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doremimosasol · 2 months

Text

𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ☆

warnings: suggestive, home situation

word count: 2 k

summary: looking for some peace and quiet but interrupted by a thief

@thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge prompt 2

a/n: thank you thank you so so much @slytherinslut0 and @pizzaapeteer for proofreading this and taking the time to make suggestions!

The Black Lake was a place you often visited after school hours. Most days it was a quiet place, which always confused you — not enough people took advantage of the peace it brought. The majority of them just stayed in the castle. Not you though. It was the great opportunity for some change in scenery, the never ending hallways tiring your brain at certain times.

You loved the lake, all year round. During winter it was a magical place where you could use your skates to dance on the ice, when it transformed into a tapestry of thick glass. It calmed your mind, the scratching sounds of your blades gliding along, making you feel as if you were floating...

The clanking of firewhisky bottles rang out into the night, as they continued to clash together from within the bag you were carrying. Admittedly, this was something that you did often: using an invisibility potion and sneaking into the Three Broomsticks. It wasn't stealing, you always left some money behind for the things you took. It was just a smart way of getting your hands on some alcohol around here.

It was a hot summer day, leaving the evening a light, breezy temperature, the sky painted in beautiful shades of blues, oranges, and purples. You decided to seat yourself on a rock close to where the waters hit the edge, and took off your shoes and socks, dipping your feet into the water. The sensation of the slightly cold water cooling your mind and body.

You emptied the contents of your bag: some cake, 6 bottles of firewhisky, and 2 muffins. like you could possibly devour everything but there was no harm in bringing spare. Who knew... You always hoped some prince charming would appear out of nowhere and decided to join you in your drunken activities. Your hopeless romantic state of mind couldn't help but wander through the possibilities.

"Thank you for that." The sudden voice startled you as someone sat down beside you and opened a bottle of your firewhisky. Of course, it was Mattheo Riddle, that boy had no shame. You couldn't even say something, you just sat there sort of flabbergasted that he even dared to pick up one of the things you 'bought' with your own money.

His eyes never left yours as he chugged down almost half the bottle, trying to hide the clear stinging in his throat. You rolled your eyes at his tough boy facade.

However, it wasn't working on you as you snatched the bottle from his grasp immediately. "Excuse me? What the actual fuck do you think you're doing?" You sent him a glare while chugging down almost all of the remaining liquor.

"Mhmm, you know we just indirectly kissed, right?" He had a smug look on his face, of course, he had to act this way. "Ah come on, y/n, don't be such a party-pooper. Isn't this better than drinking alone? It almost looked pathetic."

Pathetic? He was the one who called you pathetic? The guy who had a bloodied face almost every single day of the week? "Who exactly are you calling pathetic here? Because all I see is a dirty thief."

He raised his brow and just laughed. Pardon? The fucking audacity. "You should drink all of these bottles, maybe that'll get rid of that stick up your ass." He snatched the bottle back and downed everything left in one go. "What else have you brought? Cake?" He took a look at it, it was just a plain vanilla cake with some icing on top. "I'll ask it nicely this time since you seem to care so much about that. So, please dear y/n, can I have a piece of that cake? ...and another bottle?"

You couldn't believe this guy, he suddenly came here to join you and acted like all this was his to eat and drink? But who else were you even going to share it with... Maybe you should just give it to him, maybe he'd surprise you for once. "Fine. But 3 bottles each, okay?"

"3 bottles each, deal."

As it seems, Mattheo turned out to not be that bad after all. As more drinks were consumed you watched his demeanor loosen up and his guard drop. To the point he got looser and started to tell you about himself: his friends, his studies, and even his father. You don't know if it was the alcohol or if he just felt comfortable enough to share those things with you.

You found yourself telling him about your own family too, the situation at home, and that most of the time you just stayed at school during the holidays. It sort of felt good, letting it out. Though your situation would never compare to his, it was nice for someone to understand you. Someone who went through the same shit as you.

Even though, you just now kind of started to get to know each other, you promised each other something. A promise to stay at school every holiday, to make it epic as if it were at home. To be each other's home while that home didn't exist for either of you. It would be nice to do something other than reading during those days, but to actually have someone to talk to maybe.

"Did you know it's possible to lead a cow upstairs... but not downstairs?" It just came up to you and you started even laughing before you finished your sentence.

It was obvious that you confused the guy because he just straight-up looked at you with a judgy and confused face. "What?"

"I mean I'm just stating facts here. You can't lead a cow downstairs, you know, like a cow. Moo." It all sounded really slurred, it'd be a wonder if Mattheo even understood one word you were saying.

"Are you speaking parseltongue or am I really that drunk?" He squinted his eyes slightly to even make out your whole form, he was obviously struggling. Both of you were extremely intoxicated.

"What?" You looked at him, maybe you were speaking parseltongue. Could it be? Wait, did he speak parseltongue? "Do you speak it yourself?"

"Ah yes, of course, heir of Slytherin kind of things, you know." He suddenly started sissing and hissing and you weren't even sure if he was being for real or just making some shit up. You just nodded, agreeing with whatever he was saying, hoping he wouldn't wake up any snakes in the bushes behind the two of you.

You averted your gaze to the lake in front of you and got the most ridiculous idea all of a sudden. You didn't even announce your stupid idea but just started undressing until you were left standing in only your underwear.

"Are you stripping for me now? Alright, continue." He leaned his body back on his arms to get a better look, a disgustingly attractive smirk covering his face. Sucks to be him because before he knew it, he got a large splash of water thrown all over him when you hit the surface of the water.

"Are you crazy?!" It was quite the sight, his face was fuming. It almost looked murderous, didn't he like water or something? He couldn't be that much of a pussy, right?

"Come on get in! It's actually still quite warm!" The past warm days warmed up the lake quite a bit and it was a surprisingly comfortable temperature. You were even surprised yourself.

"Absolutely not! You're insane, y/n. I won't save you when you start drowning, you'll just have to die right in front of my eyes then." He looked extremely agitated. He was wet already so what would be the difference in getting in?

"Oh, come on... Please? It's not even that deep, I can still touch the ground with my feet. Don't be a wuss!" His eyes squinted and he got to his feet after all. He took off his clothes and you couldn't deny that you quite liked the sight. The hours of quidditch practice were visible hidden underneath that shirt.

"You're staring, princess." He jumped in after and you almost drowned by the water that splashed right into your face when he hit the surface. The water didn't taste all too pleasant, it could just be the alcohol but it wasn't nice.

"Well if you like staring so much, maybe you should touch it? Touch is better than seeing after all." Before you knew it he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. He took your hand and guided it to his chest, running it downwards. Good thing you were drunk because there's no way you would've ever done this sober.

"Don't be so shy, you weren't shy when you were almost fucking me with your eyes." He pulled you deeper into the water which made you unable to still touch the ground. He was doing this on purpose, he could easily still stand on the ground in the deeper waters. He almost forced you to wrap your legs around him. Silly you, it was his plan all along.

"Kiss me." Excuse me? He did not just ask you that? "Come on, y/n, give me a little kiss." Only one small move and your lips would be touching, he was extremely close to your mouth. He blew on them on purpose just to lure you into his trap. "Kiss me..."

And that's what you did, he wanted a little kiss but he most definitely got more. The whole night had been tense and this was your way of showing him your true desires. It was obvious you weren't alone in those feelings tonight. Because of the way he kissed you back, it was almost magical, like he sent you to another dimension.

He moved his hands lower and squeezed your bottom slightly which made you gasp into the kiss. He took this opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth, exploring it like it was his last meal. It was like both of you were completely in sync, your bodies moving in a rhythm that made your heart almost jump out of your chest.

Just when you were about to lose it, he pulled back to take a deep breath. The both of you were exchanging breaths like it was the oxygen you needed. "Damn, y/n, I didn't know you could kiss like that. Let's try again, shall we?" Those stupid eyes of his, just made you melt into his touch. You shouldn't have folded this fast for him, but you couldn't help it. Everyone would do the same when the Mattheo Riddle would look at them with those chocolate-brown eyes.

Only the moon and the stars could retell the events that went down that night, both your bodies intertwined with the moonlight reflecting on your wet skin. The skin that was meant to be each other canvas, painted by the passion but faded over time.

Mattheo thought about it every night in bed, getting chills when he thought about the kisses and imagining it happening again. His fingers traced the places on his skin that were touched by you, trying to replicate the feeling your fingers gave him.

During normal school weeks, both of you wouldn’t even talk to each other, just the occasional glance. But those looks spoke more than words.

Both of you waiting for the holidays to come to share the same passion like that night once again. Hoping that the other kept their end of the promise to spend them together.

And yes… after the fair sharing of gifts for Christmas, the best gift you could’ve got that night was to be touched by him like that again.

#harry potter #fiction #slytherin #slytherin boys #benjamin wadsworth #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #hogmarch challenge #hogmarch #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheoriddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader

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thealtoduck · 4 months

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Water

Dick Grayson x Male Reader

Content: Greek Mythology AU

Warnings: Smut, virginity loss, bottom!Reader, top!Dick, anal sex, unprotected sex, fingering, missionary position…

Prequel to: Sweet Juice

Summary: You recently joined Dionysus following, and one day when you’re on a walk you come across an injured hero…

——

You wandered peacefully through the forest, humming softly to yourself. You enjoyed taking walks to get a break from Dionysus and his retinue. It hadn’t been long since you’d been offered a spot to join them by Apollo and Dionysus so you were still getting used to how… excited they could get.

And as much as you enjoyed their company sometimes you needed a little quiet time to yourself. You walked along a small river seeing the water flow along easily. The sound of water trickling putting your mind at ease.

That ease was soon interrupted by the sound of snapping twigs and heavy panting. A figure appeared from behind some trees a head, stumbling clumsily in to the shallow river almost falling over. It was a man.

You stopped carefully as you did not recognise him. He hadn’t seen you so you snuck and hid behind a tree. You heard some grunting that sounded almost as if he was in pain. You peaked out behind the tree and took notes on his appearance.

He was very disheveled, his hair was messy and his chiton was torn and dirty. Then you saw injury on his semi-exposed upper body, he was bleeding. You watched him struggle to get up on the other side of the river.

He eventually managed but almost as soon as he did he collapsed. You don’t know what came over you but you hurried from behind the tree towards him. You got down on your knees next to him and rolled him on to his back. His eyes were closed. He was still breathing but he had passed out.

You studied his injury, it didn’t look to be fatal as long as it was treated immediately. You ripped a a piece of your own chiton, leaving your chest bare, and wrapped it over his wound. You then went to the shallow river and dipped your hand in, cupping some drops of water in it.

You brought it over to injured man and sat down beside him once more, you whispered a naiad blessing over the water that your mother had taught you, it would keep the wound from getting infected and furthering his injuries. You then let some drip on the bandaged wound.

You then rubbed the remaining drops on his forehead softly. It wasn’t until then you noted the beauty of the man, despite his overall disheveled appearance, he had a incredibly handsome face. Which made you almost immediately suspect he was a god or at least a demigod.

You then remembered you should probably try find some actual help for him. You went towards the small river and stepped down in to it. You used you half-naiad powers to call for whomever it belonged to. Soon enough a river god appeared before you.

You asked him for help, if he could travel to Dionysus camp and ask the olympian send help for the man while you waited with him. The river god was happy to help and made his way up stream towards the camp. You then sat down dangling your feet in the running water while you waited.

——

(Dick’s pov)

——

Dick opened his eyes, he felt faint as he looked up at the bright blue sky. His body still ached. He reached a hand towards his wound to feel how bad it was but found a piece of cloth had been tied to cover it. He wasn’t alone.

Dick tried his best to sit up, using his elbows for support. He looked forward and saw a blurred figure in front of him, he focused his eyes to the best of his abilty and saw the bare back of a man with dewy y/c/s skin.

”Who-Who are you?” Dick asked weakly making the figure swiftly turn his way. Dick immediately noticed the man’s striking facial features, youthful yet very handsome.

The man got up quickly and came towards Dick. ”You should lay down again, you’re injured, I’ve sent for help they’ll be here soon” he said in a comforting tone but ignoring his question. Dick didn’t push for and answer and instead layed down again. Closing his eyes once more.

——

(Your pov)

——

Soon enough two satyrs came carrying a strecher. You helped them lifting the man on to it. And the four of you started to make your way through the forest back to Dionysus’ camp. Once you got there the man was brought in to the medical tent where the maenads and satyrs would care for him.

The next day you visited the medical tent to check on the man, he still hadn’t woken up yet after the day before, but his caregivers assured you he’d be fine after some rest. You had brought him a set of new clothes and put them on the table next to his bed.

As you did a low groan came from the man, immediately catching your attention. You moved over to him as his eyes fluttered open. His sat up on the bed, looking carefully around, his eyes finally landing on you. ”Where-Where am i?” He asked in a hoarse voice. ”You’re in Dionysus camp” you answered softly.

”Who are you?” he asked. ”My name is Y/n, I was the one who found you, you had collapsed next to a river” you explained, the man had a moment of clarity. ”I remember you now, I saw you, you covered my wound” he said and you nodded, your eyes lingering on him.

You then realized you were staring and quickly turned towards the tent opening, saying rapidly ”You must be hungry, i’ll go find you some food”. And you hurried away before he could even answer.

You collected a bowl of fresh grapes and apples and brought them back to the tent. As you walked in, you were caught of guard as you were met with the the naked form of the man standing in front of you. You immediately turned your gaze to the tent wall.

”Sorry, do you want me to come back later?” You excused, your cheeks heating up. ”No, it’s fine” the man said casually and started getting dressed in the clothes you brought him. You walked over and put the bowl of fruit down on a table and immediately turned to leave once more.

But the man grabbed your arm making you stop and turn to look in to his rich brown eyes. ”I must thank you Y/n, you’ve saved my life and provided me with food and clothing, i’m forever grateful” he said warmly. You were completely taken of guard and didn’t know what to say.

Then another figure entered the tent, it was one of Dionysus’ personal guards. He was slightly shocked of the sight of the half naked man holding you but quickly regained his composure and said ”Y/n, Lord Dionysus has requested the presence of you and our guest”.

”Of course” you said formally and turned to Dick and said ”Once you’re finished getting dressed come to the big purple tent, we’ll be waiting”. You then left along with the guard and walked to Dionysus’ tent.

”Did he try anything with you?” The guard asked in a stern manner. You shook your head and answered ”No, no need to worry, he was just thanking me for helping him”. Everyone within Dionysus following was aware of the fate of your mother Daphne, at the hands of Apollo and Eros

And when you joined them, Dionysus had sworn that he and his retinue would protect you from gods and mortals alike that would try to violate you and protect your virginity for as long as you wished to keep it.

You entered the big tent where Dionysus and Ariadne were sat on their respective thrones, they smiled at you appearance. ”Y/n!” Dionysus said happily at the sight of you, he waved for you to come closer. You stood yourself in front of Dionysus and Ariadne and gave a polite bow to both of them.

”Lord Dionysus, you asked for my presence” you stated. ”Yes but let’s wait for our guest, meanwhile you can come sit down” Dionysus said politely and gestured to the fluffy pillows spread next to his throne. He had saved you a seat on the ground next to him like always.

Ever since you’d arrived you had quickly become one of his most dear followers. You didn’t know it but he could relate to your loss of your mother to that of his own and them both being screwed over by horny Olympian.

You sat down next to him and Dionysus handed you a goblet of wine telling you to drink. You took a sip of the dark liquid tasting it’s rich flavor.

Soon enough, the man entered, he had a confident walk that could only be matched by that of an Olympian. He bowed before Dionysus and Ariadne and greeted formally ”Lord Dionysus and Lady Ariadne, i must thank you for welcoming me to your camp, Is there any way i could be of service to repay you for your kindness?”.

”Yeah, get out…I don’t want your kind here hero” Dionysus said in an immediately sour tone. You were suprised. ”You’re a hero?” you found yourself asking outloud, drawing all eyes to you. Of course it did explain his good looks but he seemed so humble for how Dionysus had described heroes to you.

You were aware of Dionysus and Ariadne’s distaste of heroes because of Theseus and the pair had not painted a good picture of what they were like to you.

The man turned to with a smile and stated in a kind voice ”How rude of me, I never introduced myself, I’m Richard, Son of Hemera, Goddess of daytime, but most people just call me Dick”.

Dionysus the continued to grumble annoyed ”You heroes only cause more trouble then you’re worth, the only reason I let you stay the night was because our dear little Y/n here didn’t want you to die, now I want you out of my camp right now”.

Dick nodded and said calmly ”Your wish is my command, Lord Dionysus, may i ask for a map so i can navigate my way home”. ”Done” Dionysus said simply, just wanting him gone as soon as possible and waved his hand making a map appear out of thin air in front of him.

”Lord Dionysus” you spoke up. ”Yes, my dear half-naiad” Dionysus said in a immediately more kind tone. ”May I help escort our guest home, his injuries aren’t fully healed yet and we should make sure he gets home safe” you suggested.

Dionysus went quiet for a moment to think until he let out an annoyed sigh followed by a drawn out ”Fine”. He quickly turned to Dick and said threatiningly ”But if you as much as pluck a hair of my attendant, I’ll turn you in to a leopard just so i can skin you and wear you, got that?”.

Dick nodded and said ”I swear he’ll be unharmed, Lord Dionysus”

”Well then, get going” the god said.

——

The two of you packed a big basket full of food and several canteens of water and some of wine. Then you started your journey. Dick suspected the journey there would only take about 2 of traveling.

As you walked the two of you started talking and getting to know each other, you told Dick about your mother and how you ended up in the Dionysus’ retinue. And you learned that Dick was apparently from a small village where he lived alone in a big house passed down by his father who had died from illness.

You enjoyed the forest scenery as you traveled, occasionally stopping next to a spring or a meadow for a quick break. The sun started getting lower and lower until eventually the sky was getting dark.

The two of you found a good place to camp for the night and Dick started a fire. The two you then enjoyed some food. You then realised you had forgot to ask him something. ”Hey Dick, how come you ended up in the forest in the first place?” You questioned.

”Well, recently my village has been having trouble with giant aggressive boar along the main road attacking everyone from travelers, workers and even families with children passing by. And since I’m the only demigod in the village i felt it was my duty to deal with it to keep the people safe” Dick explained.

”And although i managed to slaughter the beast I got injured, and well the rest you know” he finished. ”That was very brave of you, i’m sure your village will be proud” you told him, making Dick smile brightly.

After you finished dinner the two of you decided to get some sleep, you both decided it was best to sleep hudled together for heat, you laid down close together beneath your traveling cloaks using them as blankets. And then you both drifted of to sleep.

The next day you continued your travels through out the day until the late afternoon when you finally reached Dick’s village. The two of you walked through the town square, they welcomed Dick back with open arms deciding to celebrate his victory over the giant boar the following day.

Dick was also gifted with several items for his service to the village like new clothes, food and wines. They even gave him a crate just so he could carry everything back to his house.

Several of the towns people looked at you with interest. They probably don’t see half-naiads every day. A little girl walked forward to you and offered you a pretty flower. You accepted it gratefully. Dick then led you to his house which was located at the outskirts of the village.

”Thank you Y/n for all your help, I wouldn’t be here today without your help, I am forever in your debt” Dick said gratefully bowing his head to you, you gave a slight bow back. ”It was nice getting to know you Dick, you’ve been good company” you said and turned to begin your return journey.

But Dick grabbed your wrist making you turn back to him. ”Please, won’t you stay for the night, it’s a long journey back and you should get some rest” Dick offered kindly. You smiled, ”I’d love too” you said and you and Dick entered his house.

You sat down as Dick started a fire in the hearth. Dick then went to the kitchen and made dinner for the two of you. The two of you then sat down at the dinner table and ate. Dick had made a small feast for the two of you from the foods he’d been gifted by the village. There was meat, bread, cheese and fruits. He poured you a goblet of wine and the two of you ate.

Once you were both finished you went in to the sitting room. You studied your chiton, it was dirty from sleeping on the ground and smelled of smoke. And after dinner it now had a small wine stain too. Dick seemed to notice what you were looking at.

”Would you like me to warm some water for you to freshen up?” Dick offered. ”If it’s not to much trouble” you said. ”Not at all, you just rest” Dick said walking out on the yard to a well collecting several buckets.

He warmed the water and poured it in a bathtub for you. He poured in some scented oils and called you in. You thanked him and he left to let you clean yourself. He quickly then realised he forgot to give you new clothing to change to.

He collected one of his own chitons and without thinking walked in to the bathroom. He was met with your fully undressed body. Dick was mesmerized by your beauty. You turned to him and as your eyes met he remembered himself.

”I’m so sorry, Y/n, i didn’t mean to-” Dick started to apologise. But you cut him off saying ”It’s alright, mistakes happen, right?” And Dick remembered you had accidentally walked in on him changing. Dick smiled and put down the clothes on a table and left once more.

While you were bathing Dick made sure to wash himself off as well, he poured warm water in a basin and undressed, he then rubbed a sponge over his body. He thought of what he had just witnessed.

You were the most beautiful person he had ever witnessed. More beautiful than any god or goddess. More beautiful than Apollo or Aphrodite. Your body was more perfect than any work of art.

Dick imagined his hands roaming your naked body, feeling every part of you, he wanted to lay you down on his bed and spread your legs and pleasure you.

Dick felt his manhood and realised he had gotten hard thinking of you. He immediately tried to think of something else. Dionysus had declared you off limits and if he didn’t wish to die a most painful death so he needed to control himself. He finished washing himself and got dressed once more.

Dick went in to his bedroom and started getting ready for bed. A while later you came in, somehow you looked even more beautiful with damp skin and hair, he guessed that was a half-naiad feature. ”Where should i sleep?” you asked him.

Dick then realised he hadn’t actually planned that far. ”You can take my bed if you’d like” he offered. ”Well, where will you sleep then?” you asked him. ”I can sleep next to the hearth” Dick stated and walked to leave the room. ”Are you sure?” you asked. ”Absolutely” he answered. You grabbed his arm making him turn around to meet your eyes.

”Why don’t we share the bed?” you suggested. You and Dick studied each others eyes. ”Would that be alright with you?” Dick asked and you nodded. You continued gazing at each other and Dick found himself unable to control himself.

He leaned forward and planted a kiss against your lips, he was suprised to find you didn’t pull back. In fact you were pressing your lips against his as well. The kiss led to the two of you softly making out.

Dick helped you strip out of your clothes, and he studied your body once more. Immaculate. Dick stripped out of his own clothes. You pressed your lips together once more and your naked bodies met for the first time. Your madhoods grazing together. Dick ran his hands down your back.

He led you to the bed and you layed down on the soft silky sheets. Dick climbed on to the bed and in between your legs. ”Are you sure you want this” Dick asked. ”Yes, i want you to be my first” you answered. ”Do you want this?” you asked in return.

Dick smiled and said ”Yeah, you’ll be my first too”. He grabbed a bottle of body oil and put some on finger, he then inspected your ass. He slowly pressed a finger in to your hole, making you gasp from the new feeling. He pushed his finger further in to you.

You adjusted slowly and once you did Dick added another finger and then another slowly streching you out. ”Are you ready?” Dick asked and you nodded. He slowly pulled out his fingers and picked up the body oil again, pouring some in to his hand and slathering it on his manhood.

Dick positioned himself between your spread legs, he then started pushing his thick cock in to your virgin hole, streching you out even further. Dick groaned at the feeling of your clenched walls as he pushed himself further in.

You moaned softly as Dick was all the way in, his virgin cock leaking pre cum inside you. ”Fuck Dick, your so big” You said as you legs wrapped around his torso. After adjusting Dick started moving slowly in and out of you.

Both your groans filled the room as Dick set a steady pace. He kissed you deeply as he slowly thrust himself in to your hungry hole. ”You feel amazing around my cock” Dick whispered. The room heated up and sweat started glistening on your foreheads.

Dick’s balls slapped against your ass his hung manhood plowed in to you. The sight of your naked body beneath him made Dick long to fill you up with his seed, making his thrusts speed up slightly.

Your bodies glittered with sweat in the moonlight as Dick took you on his bed. The two of fucked for as long as could hold yourselves. Your cock was leaking pre cum on your stomach and you could feel yourself getting close.

Dick was getting close too, his big cock feeling ready burst. ”Dick, i’m gonna cum” you exclaimed blissfully. ”Me too sweetheart” he said, his thrusts chasing his realease. You moaned loudly as you were pushed over the edge.

You came splashing cum all over your’s and Dick’s lower chest, feeling in complete euphoria as you did. The sight made Dick deliver his last powerful thrusts before cumming inside you. Filling you with seed making it leak out of your ruined tightness.

The two of you were breathing heavily as Dick pulled out of your stuffed hole. Dick laid down next to you pulling you closer to himself. He then pulled the covers over the two of you. ”You were amazing” you whispered tiredly to Dick. ”You too” Dick said and the two of you quickly drifted off to sleep.

#dick grayson x male reader #dick grayson x male!reader #nightwing x male!reader #nightwing x male reader #dc x male reader #dc comics x male reader #x male!reader #male reader #x male reader #dick grayson x male reader smut #male reader smut #nightwing x male reader smut

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yayakoishii · 25 days

Note

hi! could i request for fluff and comfort with ace? there was this one reddit post i saw abt a guy who rambled abt being so grateful and happy that he's loved by his girlfriend, and the post described how he felt that way when they were having a bath together (nonsexual, i promise! feel free to look the reddit post up). i thought the prompt suited ace so much, esp since the guy in that reddit post mentioned that he cried out of happiness, so maybe smth like this with ace x fem!reader?

ofc, feel free to skip if it makes u uncomfy ^^

~ ♠️ anon

shower me in your love | Ace x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Warning(s): Nudity (non-sexual)

A/n: I loved this idea so much anon, I was so excited to write it for so long TT but post-exam creativity block really hit hard so this is a bit later than I had hoped to put out. Also, you asked for fem!reader but I think this fic never specified any body parts or pronouns at any point, so it ended up gender neutral haha... This is my first time attempting to write Ace, so please forgive any oocness ><

Please do not ask me the mechanics of a bathtub on a pirate ship and let's just pretend that can work out because the sea is on my side, 'kay? I hope you enjoy ♡ and thank you for the request!

also available on ao3!

The sun had dipped beneath the horizon but the sky was still clinging onto a fading orange. Above him, it was already starting to look like a dark midnight blue mixing into violet. Ace's shoulders slouched, the tension seeping out as he made his way to his sleeping quarters. The day had been hectic, and even the usually energised division commander was feeling a bit exhausted.

Ace couldn't wait to drop into his bed and fall asleep but the plan went out the window when he opened his door to find you sitting on his bed, your back to him.

"Hey," he called out, making you snap your neck around. Just the sight of your bright smile got a little more tension out of him. You bounced up to him, hands immediately coming up to cradle his face. You pulled him into a soft kiss and Ace exhaled slowly, pressing his body into your own soft one.

Out of the two of you, Ace was definitely the one with the higher body temperature but somehow, when you hugged, he couldn't help but feel that you were more… warmer. It was a different sort of warmth than physical– more emotional, he supposed. You felt a little bit like coming home, like coming to a fireplace after a day out in the snow.

"Hey," you said quietly, pulling back just enough to admire his face. He didn't have to say anything; he could see the understanding on your face with just one glance. "It's been an exhausting day, huh?"

"Mm," he didn't feel like talking about it, instead opting to drop his head on your shoulder. Ace pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, taking the familiar light scent of you. You giggled at the sensation, playfully pushing him without any real strength to it.

"That tickles!"

"You smell amazing," he whispered. You blushed, pushing at him with a bit more strength now.

"I'm sweaty, what do you mean?" You huffed out another short laugh. "And so are you, mister. C'mon, how about a nice hot bath, hm? I already set it up for the both of us while waiting."

Ace finally pulled away, looking at you with the softest expression. This time, he was the one to cradle your face in his hands. Pressing a light kiss on your forehead, he murmured a quiet admission of love. Gentle hands guided him toward the bathroom, shutting the doors behind him. Ace stood there as you removed his clothes and accessories with somewhat practised hands. When the both of you were undressed, you pulled him into the bathtub and sat down in between his legs.

This close, you could feel that Ace was running warmer than even the hot water around you. He quickly pressed a peck on the tip of your nose to surprise you, then grabbed the bottle of shampoo and soap to start but you stopped him. You took the shampoo out of his hands and smiled warmly when he looked at you with curiosity.

"How about I wash you today?" There was a hint of shyness in your voice, along with a sparkling in your eyes. Ace just nodded dumbfoundedly, watching you carefully squeeze out some of the shampoo into your hands. "Alright, stay still, I'll go sit behind you."

You stood up, the water splashing a bit as you carefully manoeuvred around to sit on the edge of the tub that was attached to the wall. Ace let your free hand guide his frame in between your legs and waited for a few seconds.

The moment your shampoo lathered finger dipped into his hair, he felt boneless. You weren't even doing much, just carding your fingers and working out the tangles as you ensured that the shampoo properly washed the roots and the tips, but it felt so good.

Ace couldn't really remember the last time someone touched him with such gentleness, such care and love. (He couldn't even remember who would have touched him like that the last time. Was it his mother?) You hummed a song he had heard you singing in passing, as you pressed your fingers into his scalp for a slight massage.

Another shaky exhale left his mouth along with the last remaining tension in his shoulders. Ace closed his eyes. With a soft hum, he pressed his head back into your stomach, heart singing at the sound of your giggle echoing in the small bathroom.

"Hey!" You said indignantly, pushing at his foam covered head. "Don't put your shampoo on my stomach."

It made Ace smile and he obliged, leaning his head away. You didn't touch him for a few minutes and he cracked his eyes open to look around at you, to find that you were shampooing your own hair now. You slid down into the tub and he made some space between the wall and him so you could sit properly. Once you were done, you wiped off the foam on your hand and switched to the soap.

"Alright, c'mere, my big baby," you grunted, trying to pull him by his arm. He blinked then let you pull him into the position you wanted. And then you are sitting in his lap, soap being lathered onto his skin with diligent hands. He didn't say anything and just stared quietly at you from the close proximity.

Normally, having you in his lap would get him a little… excited, but today, the action was so non-sexual and domestic, it seemed to hurt. Every movement and word you had said felt mind-numbingly relaxing. Half a year ago, if someone had suggested he would be in this position with you, he would have laughed and called them to get their marbles checked.

Right now though, he couldn't believe his own luck as your fingers dragged over him with a gentleness he had yet to experience from elsewhere. He was strong. Everyone knew that. You knew that. But even knowing that, you always touched him so softly, so gently, that it made him feel like he was made out of fragile brittle glass.

He kinda liked it.

To be vulnerable in front of you only was something he could agree to. No one had ever been this patient and loving towards him, and the fact that he loved you too much to even put it into words crashed around inside him as he watched you soap yourself up.

You were beautiful, obviously. He had to be blind to not notice how gorgeous you were. But sometimes, he couldn't help but think that your real beauty lies in how you just fit in with everyone so well. You were understanding, you were kind and you were there whenever anyone needed you. You were there when Ace needed you. And even though you were there for him, silently understanding what he needed, you never expected anything back for it. It was purely an act of love.

He wasn't talking much like usual today, but you didn't say anything about it. You only continued in your actions, washing away the soap and the shampoo with the water. Ace continued to stare at you, wondering if you were really real.

You were so good to him. He remembered when Marco had mentioned after you announced your relationship that you were good for him. He hadn't really understood the depth of that sentence until now. Until this moment, sitting in his bathtub that was definitely not made for two people, as you washed him even though he was a grown adult who could do it himself.

And it wasn't really about the ability to do it, was it? It was more about the feelings and the thoughts behind the action– it was about the care you felt. Of course you knew he could do it– but you wanted to do it for him anyway because you loved him.

You loved him so much, he couldn't help but feel thoroughly loved and blessed. You, who could have fallen in love with anyone, had fallen in love with him. On his down days, he couldn't help but think that you deserved better than him. Right now though, he couldn't think of anything else but the fact that he was so grateful that you chose him out of everyone.

Whatever made you choose him– he would forever be grateful to it. You were the best thing to happen to him.

"Ace?" Your concerned voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked at you. You were done cleaning off both of you, but you were back in his lap. Familiar hands came up to wipe away what Ace realised were tears streaming down his face. He felt a little mortified that he cried over something so small but, like always, it was like you could read his mind. "It's not insignificant if it makes you feel something so strong. Just let it out, hm?"

He didn't really need your 'permission', but the moment you said that, his body seemed to take it as the cue to cry even more. Warm tears rolled down his cheeks and he felt you guide his face into the crook of your neck– you knew he felt embarrassed about crying in front of you. You just did it to let him save face; you let him hide his face in your embrace.

Ace sobbed into your neck, body shaking as he felt your fingers card through his hair and draw hearts into his back, over his tattoo. The two of you stayed like that for a while until the tears finally stopped.

"Let's dry up?" Your eyes were soft as you helped him stand up and out of the bathtub. "And then we can cuddle in bed all night. How does that sound?"

You didn't need to say it out loud to let him know how you felt. Ace watched you wrap a towel around him and then yourself, the unspoken words lingering in the air alongside the steam.

"Sounds amazing."

I love you too.

°•❀•°

all likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

★ Taglist for Ace:

@toertchen | @boomboom-tanjiro2019 | @katiemrty | @writingmysanity | @akaashi-todorki

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Note

BABES IM ON THE FLOOR 😭 I watched this Price Voice Lines Video and my god 🫠 His voice is so deep im litrally insane. Could you maybe do something with his lines around the 13:35 mark, where he’s being a self-sacrificing jerk? 🤭 Maybe the Reader is with him on a mission or something and like their both super protective and trying to save eachother or something ❤️

All, Most, Some, None

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Snow melts in the heat of blood.

WORDCOUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, major character death(s), some fluff in the beginning, protective!Price, pre-relationship pining, obliviousness, blood, bullet wounds, hurt/no comfort, etc. no happy ending

A/N: You know I have to finish out my requests with just pure heartbreak.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You look out over the dark landscape and take down a breath as the atmosphere of the camp behind you murmurs like a warm drink. Night had fallen swiftly two hours beforehand when you’d first volunteered to take watch, your smile bright and eyes eager. Snow was just beginning to slide down from the gray sky, thick clouds hanging like a navy cloth—splotch marks of yellowish stars a far-off glimmer of infinity.

When the footsteps echo out, coming to your position, you already know the weight and pace of who it belongs to; can trace the way his feet will conform to the dirt and the crunch of white powder. A grin flickers your lips easily but you don’t bother looking over your shoulder.

John huffs as he takes his place beside you on the lookout, crossing his arms over his chest. In the corner of your eye you spy on his loose yet measured face, that authoritative edge that seeps into his skin at times.

For a long moment, the two of you look out over the earth, studying the dips and drags of the Northwest Territories of Canada in early winter. While cold, the jackets the both of you wear take the chill off well enough. Along the body of your MK14 EBR, your fingers rest casually—no need to be tensed and ready. Your sharp eyes hadn’t spotted anything for eons.

“Sitrep, then, Sol?” You hum under your breath as John looks over at you with a raised brow.

“Rabbits and Caribou, Sir.” Your voice goes teasing, “I think we’re boxed in from all sides—I suggest immediate evac.”

A low chuckle and a firm shake of a beanied head, a puff of condensation as the darkness seeps over all to be seen. John glances at you with a smirk.

“Unfortunate, seeing as we just got here.” You smile and laugh deep in your throat. It was at moments like this that you thanked whatever deity was out there that Captain Price had seen your potential all those years ago.

He’d handpicked you when you were nothing but a Private—brought you up with knowledge and stern, yet gruffly companionate, assistance all the way to Lieutenant. You don’t know the exact moment when you started to get flustered around him.

Your chest is tight right now, fingers that were once cold going clammy as you twitch them. Inside your chest, your heart pounds blood into the thin drums of your ears like boot-thumps. Clearing your throat, you shift your feet and push out, “Did Laswell get in touch?”

“Ah,” John shakes his head, taking a breath as he says, “Negative. We’re on our own for this.” He turns his head fully to you and for a moment you’re enraptured by the shine in the depths of his blue irises. Teasing, “Think you can handle it, then?”

You turn away quickly, face burning.

“Doubt me?” Matching his jab you smile widely. John chuckles and jerks his shoulders, grunting as his chin tilts.

“Never.” Hiding the violent burn of your cheeks, you look at the landscape quickly, nails tapping the metal of your gun.

“Sol?” John speaks after a moment of tight silence. You blink over with an interested look, cocking your head. The Captain had shifted to fully face you, and one of his hands itches at the side of his finely-trimmed beard. Fast eyes glance over your form like a studious teacher—your lungs still inside of your ribs. John mutters, “Stick near me tomorrow, yeah? Want you on my six.”

Touched, your brows still furrow with confusion.

“Don’t…you need me to lead Unit Two?” John’s already shaking his head, gritting his teeth. It’s like something’s bothering him.

Feet taking you forward, you grab onto his bicep and stare into his tense face with slight concern. “John?” You ask, lids narrowing.

The man stills at the sensation of your touch, even separated by the layers of his gear and jacket. Eyes slip to yours and lightly soften, the edges easing in their relentless wrinkle of dark thoughts. Like the star that your codename emulated, you seemed to be a ray of illumination for the Captain, and John’s nose twitched before his eyes quickly looked away from your open face.

It wasn’t right to think the way he did about you.

“Just have a feeling, Love,” he shakes his head slightly, clearing his throat. Your hand drops from him and he stops himself from snatching it back.

You smile at him, huffing a laugh.

“Well, who else’ll be able to take my place, then, seeing as you’re so eager to have me by you?” Gazing behind you into the small camp, John grunts, keeping his eyes on you. A small smirk slips over his lips and pulls his beard back.

“Daniels has got it…copy?” Your throat hums in consideration before you nod in a firm flinch of your head.

“...Alright.”

“Good.” The Brit shifts his feet and the snow squeals. Snowflakes collect on the top of your head, sitting atop your scalp like tiny insects as the swell of your mouth goes back in a grin. John blinks at you, and before he knows it, he’s extending his hand up to his beanie with little thought beyond how lovely you look like this.

He plops the fabric down on your head and you snap a hand up to press into it in shock. The man’s large frame slinks back as he takes his leave with you looking back at him; his feet make tracks, leading away to mirror the ones that came before.

“Don’t get a cold, eh? I’ll expect you to be back in your tent within the hour, Lieutenant.” Face burning, you can’t answer.

Blue eyes peek over a wide shoulder. Something sparks in those met gazes, a pinprick of wonder and deep affection. Perhaps it was even love.

The snow falls faster, and as John disappears into the darkness the chill of the open ridge suddenly seems less violent than your pulse as it thumps to the humming of the earth. Hiding a giddy smile, you look back out and rub at your neck; hat upon your head perfectly ingrained with a scent of charcoal and pine.

—

“Leave me! I won’t make it!” The words made your stomach drop through your intestines. Shouted over the open line John’s voice barks the order like a knife with break-neck efficiency. No hesitation.

It had all gone to shit in a matter of hours. The sun was just on the horizon, spreading its hands of dawn over the camp that was awash with blood and bodies. Enemy soldiers, the ones that your squad was tasked with taking out within the next day, had killed the next sentry on duty after you and stormed your position.

To think you were minutes away from being that very sentry was mind-numbing. But now the real problem was the state of the camp.

John had been hit through the right thigh.

Taking cover behind a large pine tree, you dart out at every other interval to fire rounds into anything that dashes like a wild animal into the open. Most of the squad was dead—the rest scattered in the sparse cover that was offered or in the process of dying. Snow melted in the heat of crimson fluid.

Spying the downed figure of your Captain, you growl and sprint out before you can talk yourself out of it, taking the recoil of your MK14 EBR into your shoulder and teeth gritted. John writhes on the ground, trying to maintain control over the remaining forces as his leg is limp and useless. He growls out in pain as his head hits the ground behind him.

“Fuck!” He shouts. You feel a bullet whizz past your head as you skid down to your knees beside him.

“Sol!” He glares at you as you survey the damage quickly, ducking when the metal projectiles get gradually closer and closer. There’s shouting in the far treeline; death cries. “What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!”

“You’re stupid if you think I’m about to do that to you!” You yell, jerking your gun up to release three bullets into someone who had burst out with a raised assault rifle. Pain flares in your left bicep, but you barely notice it beyond a strained, instinctual, whimper. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Panic had gone as deep as your DNA, seeing the large pool of blood around John, his venom-laced words that stem from agony.

“Leave! Fucking hell, Lieutenant, that’s an order!”

“John,” you shout, “shut the fuck up!” The man’s eyes go wide with shock. It wasn’t often that you swore at him.

Making your hands dive under your Captain, you loop your hands behind his shoulders and latch at his armpits. With all of your might, you shift and begin dragging him backward into the trees; gritting your teeth at his pained yell and the bare of his own pearly whites.

Moving like this was stupid, you wouldn’t be able to take out your gun without dropping John—and you certainly weren’t going to do that. Not on your life.

“Christ,” the Brit groans, and you frantically watch the blood trail he leaves behind along the ground. Like a rabbit who’d gotten his leg bit off by a wolf but was still trying to run.

There was too much blood.

Agony explodes in your side, but you keep dragging backward with a new hitch in your lungs; eyes awash with tears before the air leaves you with a ragged and violent gasp. The sounds you hear from all around are horrible—the screams and the popping of rapid-fire shots. Sucking down oxygen with a vile cough, you get John behind a cropping of rocks and have to settle him down as you hack into one of your arms; chest shuddering.

There is a pressure inside of you that digs into your flesh, but the adrenaline floods your brain over the alarm bells, drowning them.

You pull back your arm to see blood. But it doesn’t matter—not now. Not with John like this.

Looking down, you stare into his eyes while you get to your knees by his side. His gaze is wide and stuck at your abdomen with panic, where you already know the damage a bullet can do.

“Love…” he begins, but his fingers curl into fists of pain instead. John breathes heavily, and when you look down to his thigh you find far more than one bullet.

There were three, all spaced out in an arch. One at his thigh, one up on his pelvis, and the other directly in his stomach. Your eyes widen with mute horror, mouth stuttering as your throat closes.

“Yeah,” blood bubbles from John’s mouth as he chuckles in quick gasps. “No good, eh?”

Tears build in great waves, but you force out, “No,” growling, you feel your own blood stain your gear and clothes. No exit wounds for either of you, you can already tell. “No, John—not like this.”

“Sweetheart,” he tries, but you grip the beanie on your head and shove it into his stomach, pressing on the wound there as he wheezes and you sob.

“No, John!” A large hand finds the back of your hair, and you shake your head wildly.

Blue eyes stare with regret and torment before darting back down to your wound. You can feel it—you already know; knew the moment the stray bullet hit you.

The both of you…

“I’m sorry,” he says, quietly so that you have to strain to hear it above the noise. “I’m sorry, Love.” With a shiver of intense throbbing, the strain growing, you dart forward with waning strength and place your lips to his.

Bloody hands grip his cheeks, slipping over his beard in fruitless desperation. Blood coats your mouths, but the moment of pure love and tenderness takes over. For a minute you can both forget the chill of metal and the blood pooling to the ground. The shaking in your muscles.

You can forget that the both of you are dying.

John keeps the back of your head to him as strength begins to slip. When you pull away with quivering limbs, his thumb weakly brushes your undereye to dispel the bitter tears. He hums with wet eyes.

“I never got to take you out, did I?” You slip down beside him, shivering and losing heat not only because of the snow. Limbs grow heavy and in the back of your mind, you know you should be afraid—terrified. Maybe you were.

The comment makes you want to scream and rage and wail.

“No,” you instead say, laughing through a sob at the cruelty of it all as you latch onto him. “No, you didn't, John. But I’m here now. I’m right here.”

Eyes slide over your face as you stay near him; waiting. A tiny smile as his bloody fingers brush your cheek.

“When we get back I’ll show you ‘round Hertfordshire,” you both know that will never happen. His forehead knocks against yours. “You’ll love it, Sweetheart. Know you will.”

“I will,” you promise, knowing you can’t. The world besides both of your eyes swirls. “Anywhere with you, John, is worth going.”

It’s obvious what you mean.

John presses his lips back to yours with one last whispered breath of his vow. “I’ve loved you since I first saw that beauty of a smile.”

The two of you whisper promises and secrets as the gunfire dies down, lips making up for all of the times you should have kissed before and now don’t have the time to. Eyes don’t leave each other as the blood keeps flowing into two large pools of crimson sin. You’re drowned in it—flooded in it.

You should have told him sooner.

“I’ll find you,” you whisper, eyes fluttering. But the body is long cold.

You let your muscles loosen as the last of the fight leaves. Content, even in this, but for the simple fact that John’s arms are around you forever in this moment of endless infinity. The sky rolls back, and your last view is of him.

—

In the snow, preserved by the elements even weeks later, they would find your bodies, curled amongst themselves as if to protect one another. They would say that it had been because you were cold, freezing, and bleeding out from your wounds that you’d huddled for comfort. But that wasn’t the truth.

The two of you had never been warmer than when you were with the other.

What they couldn’t account for were the twin smiles on frosty lips.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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superblysubpar · 6 months

Text

we'll call it love masterlist

summary: steve and you make up at a wedding | a smut blurb request here - thank you! | NSFW 18+

2k words

warnings: this is apart of my series WCIL universe and while it can be read on it's own and make sense, definitely more fun if you've read the series, and this would spoil some things. | SMUT (oral - reader receiving, PIV unprotected sex - public)

His forearms rest on the railing, white sleeves of his button down rolled to his elbows, his suit jacket and vest long gone. The veins in his hands flexed as the amber liquid in his glass swirled. The sun was just starting to set over the skyline - pinks and oranges, a touch of purple.

It was perfect, and you weren’t watching it with him - or rather he wasn’t watching you watch it. Steve turned away from the sky you’d normally be enraptured by. Normally your hand would be in his, your head resting on his shoulder as you finally slowed down for a second and just were together.

He looked past the tables, the couples and friends sharing drinks and cigarettes. Past the twinkling garden lights and through the floor to ceiling glass windows left open for the evening.

His best friend in the middle of the dance floor in a white dress. It’s simple though, sleek, not an ounce of detail on it and hugs her curves, suiting her perfectly. He totally cried when she tried it on and he wouldn’t admit it to anyone. Her honey hair is pinned in curls reminiscent of old Hollywood that you helped with. Her bright blue polished fingers reached towards the pale pink ones outstretched to her, pulling the slender hand to lace with hers. She twirled the brunette adorned in traditional lace, whose head is thrown back in a laugh and accompanied by a smile he’s not quite sure he’s ever seen or heard from her before and it makes his eyes get a little misty. Eddie, by some feat, starts singing ‘You’re Still The One’ by Shania Twain and that’s what finally does get his lips to twitch into almost a smile. He’s certain Robin was not the only one who broke him and it probably took quite a bit of bribing from you.

He’s not too emotional as they start their first dance, but it’s when he sees you, swaying and pulling out a lighter with Eddie’s girlfriend on the side of the dancefloor that his breath catches in his throat, his chest tightens. The two of you whistled at Eddie who rolls his eyes without missing a beat, before you’re both tilting your heads together and toasting your champagne. Steve watched as you watch their love, he watched you feel it overwhelm the room and his heart beats harder in his chest.

The week of being maid of honor and best man for the couple had bent you both to your limit, and he just had to go and make it a fight. He had to push it, to turn it into a thing you yelled about until it became a thing you both were giving the silent treatment over. Now both too scared to say sorry first or talk about the big, giant, question he just sort of screamed at you and you left hanging there.

Steve sips on his drink, taking in the way the shimmering green dress hugs your curves, the way it falls at your calves and slits up the front. He swallowed as you tugged absentmindedly on the little ‘S’ resting in the dip of your collarbones, sipping your champagne. He can see the way your eyes shimmer watching the two girls dance, the way your shoulders fell in a deep sigh. He knows you’re just as much of a sap as he is, you just don’t want to admit it.

He knows it even more when the guitar drifts off and the next song starts and Eddie looked straight at him as he called, “Robin and Nancy would like anyone who’s in love to please come join them on the dance floor.”

The opening notes of ‘It Had To Be You’ by Frank Sinatra began and Steve watched your head turn, eyes roaming over the room until they met his. You smiled, shrugging your shoulders and he made his way to you.

He sets his glass down, grabbing the hand you offered and you both step onto the dancefloor, smiling at Robin over Nancy’s shoulder.

Steve’s hands found your waist easily, like they’re his favorite place to rest, home. Yours over his shoulders, fiddling with the collar and then the ends of his hair as you started to sway. Your head tilted up at him with a purse of your lips and playfully narrowed eyes.

“Are you all done being mister brooding, sexy, grumpy-”

“Sexy, huh?”

Your eyes rolled as his hands roamed to your back, pulling you in tighter to his chest, fingers warm on your exposed back and toying with the straps criss-crossing over it. He kissed at your temple and hummed, “Not sure I’ll ever be done being that. It’s tough to say about the brooding. Definitely not grumpy anymore though.”

Your cheek pressed to his shoulder, palm dragging down to rest on his chest, fingers rubbing small circles over a button. Your voice was quiet, unsure, shaking with something that sounded like genuine fear. “Are we okay?”

He stopped dancing then, eyes bouncing between yours as he sighed at the worry evident there. He grabbed both of your hands, kissing your knuckles before he dropped them to cup your cheeks.

“I’m an idiot, I never should have-”

“No, I’m an idiot, I should have-”

He interrupts your interruption with a kiss, your hands pressed to his chest from the passion behind it. Warm breath against your cheek from his nose as his hand slid up your jaw, thumb at your ear as he cradled your neck to bend back for him, palm of his other hand catching your lower back as you arched.

He parted from you with a gasp, both of you breathing heavily as he kissed you again, much softer before he suggested, “How about, we’re both idiots and we go make up real quick?”

That’s how he got you in one of the bathrooms. Fighting long forgotten, if it could even really be called that. Sorry’s mumbled into lips in between I love you’s. He had his hands on your waist, pushing you hard against the bathroom door so you were gasping. Steve lifted your dress, gaze on where your bodies met, pushing at the hem frantic, needy, until you were completely exposed and he was gulping.

“You’re not - you haven’t been wearing underwear this entire day?”

Your head smacked against the door with a low laugh, shaking it no. Steve practically growled, his hands moving over your body, worshiping your curves, down your thighs and back up. He pushed his palms flat against the door on either side of your waist, dropping to his knees, staring up at you like you put the sunset in the sky. His lips skimmed over your skin, starting at your knee and moving higher so he was at your center. Kisses and nips over your thighs until he was cursing at the sight in front of him.

Lips glistening for him already, it was easy for his nose to slide between them, his mouth close behind. His tongue traced their curves, teasing at your entrance so you jolted against him, hands finding his hair and tugging the way he liked. Steve let a hand fall to your hip, traveling lower to cup your ass and squeeze to hear your giggle, then down your thigh until he was hitching it over his shoulder.

“St-Steve.” Your body shivered around him, clenching around nothing yet.

He mouthed at your clit, tongue flicking it and pulling away to watch your hips try to chase him. He couldn’t last, not with the way your hands carded through his hair, the way you looked down at him like he was everything.

Your leg dropped roughly, so he could stand, both of your hands meeting his at the button and zipper. Fumbling and bumping, your head ducked to catch his lips, wet and sloppy, desperate in their kiss. Your mouths moved over each other’s fast, greedy, devouring one another between heavy breaths.

Steve teased his tip at your entrance, dragging it through your slick and tapping on your clit until you were biting on his lower lip, gasping out a please.

He thrust in fast, not letting you prepare or recover as he slid out of you slowly only to do it again. Your mouth parted against his, not quite kissing anymore, just breathing in and out with each other, lips and noses touching and bumping. Steve hitched your leg higher on his hip, hands roaming beneath each thigh and lifting so you were wrapped around him. He thrust into you in deep strokes, never letting his gaze fall from yours, hazel eyes consuming you.

Your head bumped the door, his hips slamming into yours as his fingers gripped at your ass. His lips took your bottom one between his, sucking dirty and pulling a little meanly until he released it, breathing heavily. Your orgasm built quickly, entire body vibrating around him, ready for him to take you away, off the planet and into the stars.

“You’re mine,” he thrust deeper, pausing and kissing over your jaw, down your neck, voice softening, “My fucking girl.”

He rolled his hips and you moaned at his possessiveness, at the weight of the gold necklace around your neck. Your spine prickled with lust, excitement, adrenaline, as your head fell forward so your foreheads touched. You panted against his lips, nodding.

“I’m yours. All yours. Forever. Whatever you want.”

Steve lips found yours again, his hand on your jaw pulled you open more so his tongue could roll over yours, so it could trace your top lip. The kind of kiss that made your stomach flutter, made goosebumps erupt over your skin, made your cheeks flush, your toes curl and your fingers push deeper into his hair, needing him closer. He parted from you, grabbed your hand and laced it with his, pushing it up against the door and your other clung to the back of his head as his hips picked up their pace.

“Oh! Fuck, right - S-Steve!” Your head hit the door again, fingers tensing and flexing between his, legs shaking from the orgasm about to rip through you.

“Louder, honey. They all need to hear who can get you like this.”

You clenched around him at his words, a little turned on by people knowing just like he was. His fingers dropped yours, quick to find your clit and press figure eights to the swollen nerves. Your feet locked behind him as you clenched around his dick, gushing over him as stars exploded behind your eyes and you yelled out even louder, unsure if you were even saying words.

Your body on fire, heat from head to toe as your eyes rolled back, band inside of you snapping as his release filled you up. Steve’s head fell into the crook of your neck with his own cry, hips stuttering until you were both still. The only sounds the low thudding of music from outside and both of your sharp inhales and louder exhales.

“Did you mean it?” His voice was raspy, nose nudging up your neck as he cupped your ass, holding you against him.

“Wh-what?” You couldn’t quite catch your breath, eyes heavy and blinking, exhausted from the orgasm he just gave you. .

Steve kissed your jaw, swallowing. “Forever? Was that an answer to my question?”

“I-”

Pounding on the other side of the wood rattled the door against your back and Steve pushed his weight against it, yelling, “Occupi-”

“You’re both animals! It’s my fucking wedding shitbirds! Clean yourselves up and you better get your asses out here before Wilson Phillips or I will kill you both!”

Robin’s voice echoed through the door and both of you sputtered out laughs, covering each other’s mouths. Eyes growing fonder, sparkling with mischief, you both let your hands drop and he was kissing you. Legs dropping to the ground gently, his fingers cupped your jaw, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

He let you go and smiled as your eyes blinked rapidly, eyelashes fluttering as you cleared your throat, dazed look behind your eyes and cheeks warm under his palms as he asked, “We’ll finish this later?”

#a we'll call it love blurb #we'll call it love #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb

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rafedaddy01 · 9 months

Text

Coconuts

Series Masterlist

A/n: I promise I will make them fuck in the next part. And it will probably be the final part.

Warnings: oral m receiving, language, sexual implications

It’s been a day since her and rafe have been in contact. Night had fallen and still no message. The last memory she has is of his hands wrapped in her hair. A memory she could never forget. The piercing of his blue iris is in his. She wanted him so bad.

Without thinking her fingers dipped inside her panties. It wasn’t as long as Rafes, but it could get the job done. She arched her back as she came, Rafes bulging veins in her memories. As she finished her phoned dinged. “Hey” Rafes message read. Her insides tingling as she read it. “Hi” she replied. “What are you doing?” She knew messaging him back would only get her in trouble. “Thinking about you” she typed. She hesitated on sending it. Would it be to forward. Would he think she was weird. She sent it, shutting her phone off and nervously biting her nails. Her phone dinged. She read the message. “What exactly are you thinking about baby?” She smiled as she typed. “Your hands. Your tongue. I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel” she sent it without a second thought.

“I’m coming to get you. Be ready” was all he wrote. She got out of bed and quickly put on a comfy outfit. Some sweats and a light tee. Her phone dinged. “Here” she grabbed some sneakers and headed out the door. As she approached the truck a tingly feeling filled her body, she was nervous. She couldn’t help it. She was always nervous around rafe. He was so hot and forward. She was also excited. He helped her experience a new side of her. A side she never thought she had. “Hi” she softly spoke as she shut the car door. He answers her by tangling their lips together. When she pulled back he stared at her taking in her beauty before staring up the car and driving off. He had something special planned for tonight. They pulled up to s cliff where you could clearly see the night sky filled with stars. Who knew Rafe Cameron could be a romantic. He set the bed of the truck up with some blankets and had her lay on some fluffy pillows he had prepared.

“This is so beautiful” she spoke as she layed in his arms. Taking in the nights glory. “Isn’t it?” He said back. She picked her head up to look at him. “Kiss me?” She asked. He smirked before obliging and pulling her into his embrace. As their lips danced with each other her hand slipped down to his crotch. He grunted at the action. “What are you doing” he laughed. “I told you. I want to make you feel good” she leaned in for a kiss again. Her hands palming him through his jeans. She pulled back and bit her lip as she watched his eyes for any denial. When she received none she slowly unbuckled his belt before zipping his zipper and freeing him from his underwear. Her eyes widening at his size. He smirked down at her “don’t worry baby you can take it” he wrapped hand in her hair and tugged. “Don’t think I forgot how you told me to be rough with you”

She smiled as she leaned down to attach her lips to his cock. “There you go baby, just like that. Now take it down your throat” he instructed her. She slipped his length down her throat and froze, not knowing what to do next. Rafe made a makeshift ponytail and pushed her head down a bit further till he heard her gag. He chuckled to himself knowing that he was gonna have his way with her tonight. She started moving her head, licking the tip every time she came up. He got impatient with her pace and started fucking her face. She looked up at him and her thighs clenched at the sight. Rafe fucking Cameron was moaning because of her. His head dipped back and his eyes clenched and nose scrunched. She was turned on by his moans and groans. She brought her attention back to his cock. Hallowing her cheeks as she took more of him and her hands came down to play with his balls.

“Shit..” he muttered. “For someone’s whose inexperienced you sure know what your doing babe” he grunted as she worked his balls and slobbered all over his cock. “Fuck! I’m gonna cum” he warned as she felt him twitch inside her mouth. She hummed and the vibrations sent him over the edge. His hot cum shooting in the back of her throat. She slurped up every drop. Not letting any go to waste. She pulled back and rafe brought his thumb to her bottom lip, pulling it down as he smeared some cum like lipgloss. “So pretty” he spoke. She smiled as she licked her lip, rolling her eyes at the taste. “You taste good daddy” she said without thinking. “Shit.. call me that again?” He demanded. “Daddy?” She gave him a teasing look. “Fuck.. so hot. I could fuck you right here right now” he gripped her throat and squeezed a bit. She moaned as his other hand tranced her cheeks, cupping it and pulling her towards him. “When are you gonna fuck me?” She spit out, almost desperate to have her cunt filled. “Someone’s needy”

part 6

#outer banks #rafe cameron #drew starkey #dark rafe cameron #outerbanks #smut #drewstarkey #drewstarkey smut #rafecameron #fanfic #rafe fluff #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe x y/n #rafe imagine #dark rafe

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jeromeswife · 2 years

Text

namor x f!reader - research and fishman

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x f!reader

Word count: 842

Summary: A college project leads you to a local legend from the ocean.

Warnings: none! just chivalry type of fluff I guess

A/N - had to write some Namor fluff since I saw people wanting some. I don’t enjoy writing it, but this was lots of fun and I hope you guys like it!

translations:

Ch'íij - human

In yakunaj - my love

(Y/N) sat on the beach, wearing a sheer dress with a corset wrapped around the top that displayed an old panting across it. In her hand held a leather notebook and a mechanical pencil in the other. She'd been working on an assignment assigned to her by her college professor pertaining to studying the ocean and its inhabitants. In the long history of projects her professors displayed in a PowerPoint presentation, she'd never realized that no one ever ventured to Yucatan, Mexico.

When she arrived there a few days ago, (Y/N) asked the town locals about anything about the coast of the waters. She was determined to collect all the findings so she could learn more about its history, but also secretly wished to pass her class. After all, college was not cheap. (Y/N) was only able to afford this trip due to working long hours as a server at her local restaurant, saving up the money to do something extraordinary.

The locals of the state had refused to speak up about most of the information. Frustrated, she decided to wander elsewhere near the coast. There she found a few natives who opened up to her about what mysteries lied in the ocean. (Y/N) had been told about a man from the sea with wings that could soar across the sky, pointed ears, and the ability to breathe out of water and underwater. Which lead her to where she is now.

(Y/N) got up from her spot in the sand and dipped her feet into the water. By her toes, she could see various types of fish swimming around her; the seashells that popped with vivid colors of white, blue, pink, and the color of midnights. The pencil in her hand immediately was drawn to the pages of the notebook, writing down the observations she took note of in her head.

She really had never seen much color like this. So much beauty that hadn't been tainted by the pounds of waste being dumped in the US by a neglectful government. The only color of water (Y/N) had ever seen was the murky, cloudy blue water of the shorelines she'd visited as a child.

But before she knew it, a wave crashed into her and her belongings dropped into the water along with her. The once dry locks of (Y/N)'s hair became tainted by salt water. She leaped out of the water and pushed the wet hair away from her face. A gasp left her mouth as she looked around her.

"My journal! My research! I-It's gone!"

(Y/N)'s did seem to notice some odd ripples in the water that went in her direction. Emerging from the water, she peered at the man with golden brown skin, multiple jewels and necklaces adorning his neck. He pushed the wet hair back and gazed upon her.

In his hands, lied the journal she unfortunately lost, dripping in water that soaked the pages to the point where they'd be unrecoverable and unrecognizable.

"I believe this belongs to you, Ch'íij"

He looked even more handsome to her up close as he stood closer to (Y/N), giving her the prized possession she lost. "I'm afraid that there's too much damage to this to recover your research."

She became alert at the fact that he was onto her. Yet (Y/N) noticed how close he resembled to the legends the natives told her. She'd opened the pages of the journal and found years beginning to well up in her eyes. She was heartbroken. The tales of the natives, the observations of the environment and ocean, the fish and sea shells, all gone. Lost to the damp pages.

"Thank you.. I do appreciate your help, even if it was essentially meaningless due to the state of my journal."

He frowned and breather deeply, "My name is K'uk'ulkan. My enemies call me Namor, but I prefer my native name my people call me."

K'uk'ulkan... The name replayed itself in her head on loop, trying to soak in that information Namor told her. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile at the chivalrous actions of the king. Only a stranger, yet as kind to her as anyone could be.

"I'm (Y/N)! But my enemies call me.. (Y/N)?"

The two laughed in sync and Namor took her smaller hand into his callused one. He brought his lips onto (Y/N)'s soft, (S/C) hand, giving it a sweet kiss.

"I believe your research can be assisted by me, as I know everything there is to know about this are of the atlantic ocean. Let me show you my world, In yakunaj."

(Y/N) bit her lip. She couldn't believe in her wildest dreams of what was happening to right now.

"Your world of what, K'uk'ulkan?"

Namor stepped closer, "Talokan, my kingdom. It resides in the ocean and I wish for you to see it."

She hesitated to accept his offer but before she knew it, she had dissapeared into the waters with Namor.

#namor x reader #namor #namor the sub mariner #namor x y/n #namor x you #kukulkan #namor fluff #tenoch huerta #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #namor imagine #namor fanfiction

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ashensgrotto · 10 months

Text

A Merfolk's Melody (Part 3)

Characters: Yan!Floyd x Reader, Yan!Jade x Reader, Yan!Azul x Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Intro Floyd Leech Jade Leech (You Are Here) Azul Ashengrotto Epilogue

Synopsis: The sea always calls to those who feel lost and alone, wanting to fill the empty part of their soul until they are loved and full… and as such, it’s only fair that the strange creatures that live beneath its depths would want the same as well…

Author’s Note: Another 4-part fanfiction courtesy of @merakiui ‘s headcanon of the reader being stuck in a room/wall (I’m sorry, but I just enjoy your headcanons and they always give me these ideas) -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/722393818829373440/in-addition-to-being-stuck-in-a-locked-room?source=share & https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/722677892623056896/about-the-stuck-in-a-wall-trope-in-the-oceani?source=share

Here’s how it’s going to work: each character is going to get their own part following the intro. It is going to focus on the Octrio again (bc it’s my current liking, sorry guys). If you want to read a certain character’s part, feel free to jump around and select the one you’re most interested in.

Again, as stated before, this is a work of fiction; I disagree with any and all behaviors that are represented in this story.

****

During your earlier days in college, you and another of your close friends had once discussed the difference between coral and mushrooms - as there were some fungi corals that lived in the coral reefs, even though they were not classified in the fungi family. You both agreed that fungi and coral played huge parts in their own ecosystems, providing both nutrition and hiding areas for the wildlife that inhabited the area around them. Both were made up of microscopic organisms - as most plants and other wildlife are - but while one shot spores, the other grew polyps on top of each other over time.

Your friend had asked if you knew if there was a coral reef back in your childhood home - to which you responded that you weren’t sure. You had been told by someone once long ago that beyond the crashing waves of the sea outside of your family’s cabin that there were coral structures the size of Burj Khalifa - the world’s tallest building - and a few that were wider than the Aerium - the world’s widest building. Imagining the depth and how big the ocean was already a monstrous task as it is, but the knowledge that some coral was as large and as wide as two of the world’s biggest buildings was mind-blowing.

Now, a few years later as you dipped beneath the surface as the waves pulled you further into its depths, an amazing sight greeted you.

Colorful coral of all shapes, sizes, and types spread before you - elkhorn coral, fungia and pocillopora corals spread along the ocean floor as pillar and staghorn coral reached for the sky. Sun coral and sea anemones waved with the current of the tide while bubble corals and zoanthids peered out from dark crevices. The colors of neon in pink, green, teal, orange, and yellow shifted together with the darkness of the water here and there, making everything seem like a blacklight room from one of the city’s downtown clubs.

But the coral and plants weren't the only thing colorful within the dark waters.

Bright colorful fish of all shapes and sizes surrounded you from all angles - clownfish peered out from behind the sea anemone as the occasional blue or yellow tang fish passed between the coral walls alongside lionfish and butterfly fish while nudibranch slugs crept along the edges with starfish as seahorses perched among the organ pipe corals and the carnation corals. You saw banded pipefish hidden in the crevices between rock and coral while moon jelly swam out to deeper waters, their nearly opaque bodies hiding their forms in the shifting waters that crashed against the waves. Manta rays swam close to the bottom of the hidden paradise, one occasionally coming up to you and brushing along the side as your light-weight tank top fluttered in the water around you, the feeling of soft smooth skin coated in a slick film surprisingly pleasant.

The colors of the deep dazzled you - pulling you into deeper waters as you held your breath for as long as you could before your lungs would force you to the surface, gasping out deep breaths as you floated above the surface world for a few moments before diving back down to stay for as long as you could in the peaceful paradise that existed beneath the waves, amazed by everything that surrounds you. You swam along the coral beds, fingers grazing over the pieces of coral polyps as you passed - as beautiful as the structures were, you could never break a piece off. The same person from your past had warned of doing such things as a child - breaking off pieces of coral can take years to grow back, and if they are broken off consistently, the coral eventually dies. Seeing the bright beautiful healthy green coloring of the coral beneath you reminded you of that memory - a smile tugging on your lips as you dived deeper.

Lost in thought, you didn’t even realize you had swam as deep as you did until you felt your lungs struggling to hold your breath until your sides ached. You had traveled between some coral beds and were now surrounded completely by it, the coral twisting around you like thorns on a rose bush and every time you would attempt to get through, the coral would dig into your skin - cuts forming along your arms, face, and legs.

You looked around desperately - but there appeared to be no way out.

“Poor child…” you heard a voice then, something soft and sickly sweet that tickled your eardrum, “Poor sweet child…”

Your head turned in the direction of said voice, seeing nothing in the darkness. Fear ran along your spine as you did your best to keep calm, the anxiety eating away at you as you struggled to think of a way out as well as struggled to keep yourself from falling into exhaustion from losing oxygen.

A shadow shifted then as a pair of heterochromia eyes - one brown, one gold - peered out at you from the darkness beneath you. You watched as a figure appeared before you, their form coming into the light that shone in between the coral that surrounded you.

The figure was that of a very large creature that was half man and half fish - the pale sunlight reflecting off of his pale teal skin that was the color of sea water; his tail was long, making him approximately six or seven feet in length, and swayed with the water as he propelled himself toward you, slowly and filled with caution while his hands - which you thought may have been webbed - clenched at his sides, the claws digging into the flesh of his palms. His facial features appeared strong and sharp, eyes clear and calculating, as his lips spread in what appeared to be a friendly smile that was anything but; his dark hair - nearly the same color of his body - framed the strong features, though one long strand - nearly the color of deep seaweed green - fell over his left eye as the golden hue began to glow the closer he came to you.

It was then that you realized you were looking at a mer - a moray mer, to be exact.

Moray eels were known to attack when provoked, but the mers were known to hunt anything that trespassed into their territory - watching from the darkness before striking unexpectedly. You had heard stories about them when you were a child - the locals believing that they typically traveled in pairs, meaning that there was likely a secondary one close by and you had to tread carefully now that one of them had found you.

The mer only smiled, teeth sharper than a shark’s gleaming in the darkness as his body began to glow; the large teal stripes that lined his hips, arms, and face began to glow in the darkness, his left gold eye nearly turning yellow as he gazed upon you.

“You seem to have a very serious problem,” the mer spoke, his voice sounding like sweet honey dripping down from a hive on a hot summer day, “... There might be something I can do to help you.”

You were beginning to slowly lose consciousness, the edges of your vision fading into darkness as you struggled to stay awake - to stay aware. The mer seemed to sense this as he drifted even closer, slipping through the water like a water snake as he stopped in front of you, looking down as his smirk grew wider. The moray mer’s features were now mere inches from your face, his webbed hands closing in to cup your face in between his palms before he pulled your face up to look at him, your body slowly becoming numb as your eyes drifted closed - the oxygen nearly out.

Something soft and surprisingly warm pressed against your lips before a sudden rush of air filled your lungs.

Your chest heaved as your eyes snapped open to see the mer pressing his lips to yours, pulling the water out and breathing for the both of you as the gills behind his finned ears fluttered with the current. You pressed your hands against his chest, trying and failing to push him away before one hand moved to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him as his other hand tangled into your hair, keeping your head still as he pressed his lips harder against yours - no longer breathing for you, but kissing you. You felt his long tail curl around your legs, keeping you trapped within his hold.

When he pulled away, his pupils had dilated; hunger reflecting within them.

“I saved your life, little pearl,” he whispered, “and now… I will take something from you as payment.”

You struggled, wanting nothing more to do with the mer that now wrapped completely around you.

However, the moray pulled you down into the depths of the coral enclosure, pressing the front of your against a large stone with one hand on your shoulders and the other holding your hands together above your head. You held your newfound breath between your lips before cool lips pressed against the nape of your neck, drawing the skin into the mer’s mouth as he lapped and sucked on it like a newborn babe. You shuddered with every lap of his tongue and whimpered with every nip that you barely registered his hands releasing you before something dug on either side of your neck, deep enough to draw blood.

You cried out, bubbles escaping from your lips before the mer pressed his lips against yours again, breathing for you as he turned you to face him - webbed hands and claws creating small cuts in the fabric of your cotton capris before the fabric was removed along with your bottoms. You threw your head back as one thumb rubbed circles against your entrance - a musty-sweet odor slipping into the salty waters around you before something fleshy and hot pressed against it. You mewled as the mer flicked over your entrance, slipping one, then two fingers within - thrusting them in and out at a leisurely pace as the glowing on his body increased, his eyes never leaving yours. You whimpered softly, one hand reaching out and clasping onto his dark hair, his eyes closing and humming against you as a fire began to build in your thighs and lower belly - threatening to consume you as your body twitched with want.

As he worked you over and over, you shuddered and groaned, arching your back away from the stone as your muscles clenched. He pulled away after a few moments, the loss of contact making your body grasp at nothing. You whimpered in need before something long, thick, and rigid rub between your legs.

“Ah… mine,” the moray mer sighed as he bared his teeth at you in a mocking grin, grabbing a hold of your ankles and pushing them into your chest as he leaned against you, moving his hips and rubbing himself against you, “Mine… my precious little pearl… Do you know what you’ve done to me?”

You can only quiver in response as he leans close, his nose nearly touching yours as his length continues to tease you, making your insides squirm with anticipation.

“How long I’ve waited for you, little pearl,” he brushes his nose against yours, his voice soft and sugary-sweet, “I’ve waited over six years… six years for you to come back to me. And now that you’re here… I can never let you go.”

Then, you feel him thrust hard and fast inside you, pushing your stomach into your throat as a silent cry leaves your mouth. The mer is merciless against you, pressing you hard into the stone beneath you and keeping a firm grip on your ankles as he pounds into you, each thrust making the precious air that still exists within you leave in the form of tiny bubbles from your mouth and nose.

He presses his lips to yours again as his eyes close, breathing for the both of you again before pulling away to lavish at your neck, his tongue flicking over the scratches he made as you feel something rise up and down from your skin. Both of your chests heave together, the pounding of your hearts argue in your rib cages as he presses his lips against yours, no longer breathing as his thrusts become more urgent. He releases his grip on your ankles and hauls you up by your waist, moving your position around so you may settle onto his lap, your thighs resting on either side of his hips as he presses deeper into your core.

The change caused you to gasp again, feeling him practically nudge into your stomach. The mer slows, allowing to adjust to this new position as he kisses your features - your forehead, your nose, eyelids, brows, cheeks, and lips - as if he is completely worshiping you.

“Sweet, precious little pearl…” he whispers, snapping his hips in urgency against you after a few moments, “Let me lay you… keep them safe for me, for us…”

You whimper softly, a name long forgotten now bubbling forward, “J-Jade…”

Jade lets out a low growl in response, thrusting hard and fast against you, “That’s r-right, little pearl… my precious (Y/N)...”

You let out a cry as your entrance grips onto Jade’s member, the muscles in your lower body spamming wildly as something thick and heavy slips between your legs.

Jade presses his forehead in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his breath caressing your skin, billowing the tank top you’re still wearing, gasping, “...not enough, little pearl. Not enough, yet…”

***

Jade has carried you to his corner of the shadows, curled beside you as you laid on his bed of seaweed surrounded by coral. His hand cups your cheek and follows the curve of your cheekbones before pressing another kiss to your lips and resting his forehead against yours.

It had been years since he had last seen you - the two of you plus his twin had been thick as thieves, frolicing along the shore lines and had taught you to swim. He had gathered many pieces of coral during that time and presented them to you when you all met up each and every day - the giggles that slipped past your lips making him smile with pride and puffed out his chest like a seagull. Eventually though, those days of spending time with one another along the shores became fewer and fewer.

Floyd had moved on, now more interested in antagonizing Azul verses waiting on the rocky shoreline for you to come out to play - but Jade was more patient than his twin, his tail swaying with anticipation along with the tide as he watched from his spot on the rocks, his heterochromia eyes never straying from the shoreline. Eventually, his patience thinned to the thickness of a thread, going to Azul to test out his latest potion that would allow him to take on the form of a human for an hour. He headed into the village, searching high and low for your family. One of the village members had been kind enough to explain that your family had moved to the nearest city where you had been accepted into college.

Jade felt his heart break. There was no way he could follow you - and even if he did, how would he find you?

Azul noticed his sour mood upon his return, the typical Jade he knew would never lounge on the rocks among the coral like his brother did unless something happened. Jade had stayed silent about what he had heard on the surface above - merely going through his life day by day as the heartache festered and grew within, making him irritable - once snapping at Floyd which made the younger of the two surprised. It didn’t take long after that incident that Jade decided to move away to another part of the coral city, hiding within the darkness of the crevices as thoughts of you consumed him day and night.

He was about ready to give up on himself when you came swimming back into his life - quite literally.

Jade tucked his head under your chin, arms wrapping around your waist as he hummed. Tomorrow, he would go to Azul to find a potion to make you more like him… even threaten the octomer with becoming fish bait if he refused.

But, for now… Jade was content to have you in his arms, back in his life. His precious little pearl…

#twisted wonderland #jade leech #twst jade #yandere jade leech #yandere jade x reader #yandere jade leech x reader #twst n/sfw #n/sfw

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strangerdangerwrites · 1 year

Text

twin flames | L.S. (Avatar: The Way of Water) - Chapter One

Summary: You meet the people who were once your clan’s enemies.

Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk’itan x Ash People Na’vi!Female!Reader (Uses she/her/hers pronouns; No use of Y/N)

Warning: None

Chapter Masterlist

In the eyes of the flames, everything is one and the same.

Within you is the fire, the urging desire…

to cause destruction, all because of the ember's seduction.

Mahuika is a beauty. After all, it is your home, the warmth of the sands on your feet, and the scorching ashes dancing through the air never bothered you.

The kiss of the breeze on your skin was what you love most, the warm embrace of home.

The marui surrounded by magma, spouting its embers into the air.

The tarākona that roamed and rested among the large rocks, your bonded creature forged in fire.

The children watched the flame dancers during the eclipse in glee.

Your clan, happy as another group of warriors, celebrated victory in conquering the leap of faith in Mount Valko. The burn marks on their skin tell their own tale.

Your sisters dance among the fire, as you cheer among their grace.

Your Olo'eyktan, your mother sat among her people smiling.

And the most sacred place upon Mahuika is the large tree that sprouted among the volcanic grounds with golden luminescent leaves and white roots and trunk; it almost looked like it was burning, The Roots of Life.

Your heart longed and ached for your home.

But now you are surrounded by blue and green. Water, the enemy of the flames.

How ironic, your enemy— no companion— no savior… had been basking in the clear blue seas. At first, you would've thought he looked like the depth of the ocean, the unknown. Yet as much as you looked at him clearly, he didn’t resemble the clans who resided in the waters; perhaps he is one of the forest dwellers you thought.

On your journey toward Awa’atlu, the place where his family had already considered their own, you revel in silence while the tulkun tries its best to carry your wounded tarākona. A place where you could rest, rest before heading back to your shattered home.

The cinders still remain and a simple flick could easily ignite it all. You’d heal and when all is done…then what?

You were silent while both of you rode his ilu back to Awa'atlu, you held your bleeding arm across your chest, untouching. Even if there was a fine line that made you understand one another, you cannot trust him completely; you are still wounded by the scars of the sky people. You only hold onto his waist with one hand. But when you shivered as every wave slapped your arms and legs; your teeth chattering loudly he couldn’t help but turn around, and with you bleeding profusely, you can feel your eyelids grow heavy.

You were too tired. Too exhausted to even be conscious of your surroundings.

His ilu stopped midway, while Payakan continued his way among the seas he knew.

“Would you like to stay at the front? I can—shit— I could warm you up?” He moved away from his ilu, ready to go behind you while you looked at him with your intense glare. Even if you were bruised and shivering in the cold, you still looked at him with this cold glare making him cower.

Lo’ak almost smacked himself in the back of the head with how he worded it out, but you slightly shifted to the front of his ilu and left him space behind you. Lo’ak gently placed himself behind you, at first giving you the distance that you needed while you held your bleeding arm across your chest.

When he commanded his ilu to go forward, slowly you leaned against him making his breath hitch. Lo’ak felt like he was stepping on eggshells with how careful he wanted to be with you; he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries and toy between the line of what this is and what you are to each other.

This was oceans that are not traversed and Lo’ak is simply dipping his toes in the waters, testing…waiting.

He can smell the faint smell of smoke, fresh spice…from you. You were warm, not too much that he would sweat, just the right amount of touch for physical contact. You fit right beneath him perfectly, still shivering while he held his ilu’s reins.

Throughout the whole ride, Lo’ak never heard you talk, only after your fight earlier. Even Lo’ak was silent, he could’ve just left you there alone but he didn’t. The bitter understanding of the taste of loneliness painted on his lips.

He knew your darkest secrets without needing to know you that long. This blind trust you have with each other makes him feel things he never had… it makes him feel wanted… depended on at long last… that he is worthy of trust and responsibility.

This would probably do both of you good, you were both alike, weren’t you? Lo’ak thinks.

How bizarre it is to think that you bare your fears and pain to a complete stranger? There would be once-in-a-million chances for you to meet and yet here you both are.

Every line becomes muddled with uncertainty.

Lo’ak only realized that you’ve been leaning on him completely when he lowered his hands, you were sleeping. Your drowsy state, trying to open your eyes when you saw the faint light of the fire.

The urge to close your eyes was too strong, and so you did. Putting your complete faith in the na’vi that you almost considered the enemy into safety. After all, what else could you lose?

When the both of you reached the island surrounded by roots of mangrove-like trees, there are multiple campfires and lanterns open. Right in the distance, Lo’ak could see figures he knew too well, looking out into the ocean.

Looking for him.

‘The boy has returned!’

When Lo’ak tried to shift you awake, your eyes remained closed and your head lulled backward. His ilu guided him towards the white sands, people had gathered to look at the boy and the figure he was carrying.

“Where were you?!” Jake came barging right in front of Lo’ak, anger and fear littered on his features.

Neytiri, his mother looked at him with panic in her eyes, muttering ‘my son’ in the wind. Neytiri’s hand placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, scanning her son’s body for further injuries when she realized the figure he was carrying, a bloodied na’vi with ash blue skin, the large feathers and bones that adorned your frame told her that you are the same age as her son.

Payakan had pushed your tarākona towards the shore, the crowd gasped at the large creature slumped right behind Lo’ak. It hissed in pain and the eyes of the Olo'eyktan narrowed as soon as he saw the creature trailing behind you, almost making a protective barrier with its large body. Preventing even his family from even coming close beside him, with the tarākona protecting you both.

“A tarākona.” Ronal hissed. There is only one clan that tamed this monstrous beast.

Lo’ak kneeled, gently placing you in the sand yet refusing to let you go. You were still bleeding, he cannot afford to pass any minute with you being dead to the world. You were running out of time.

The sole reflection of his pain, the only person who’d understand is lying here waiting until Eywa would take you as hers.

“I-I found her drifting across the sea…and I… help her please.” He begged the Tsahik, looking at Ronal with a pleading stare.

Metkayina’s Tsahik was cautious as she did not trust the Sully family at first. And Lo’ak was at the last on her list of good graces, Lo’ak brought nothing but trouble and yet here he is presenting another problem to the Metkayina’s home.

A na’vi from the Manawa Wera Clan, an enemy of their own clan.

Manawa Wera had their own beliefs and cultures that are far too different from the Metkayina. If they believed in The Way of Water, your clan believed in The Seeds of Fire.

For the Metkayina, the sea is a better ally.

For the Manawa Wera, fire is judgment

If the water is eternal, the fire begins with a spark and ends in ashes.

If the sea is your home, the flame is a lover who is erratic. uncontrollable, unforgivable, everything and beyond.

If the Metkayina can learn acceptance and forgiveness, your clan on the other hand would burn everything in ash and cinder.

A fire cannot be contained or trained, they ran havoc in destruction.

Because no amount of water can quench the fire that resides within.

“You have no idea about the child you brought here, she is from Manawa Wera.” Ronal growled.

Lo’ak feels helpless and he can feel his own anger rise upon the accusation just because of your own upbringing. He could almost see himself in you, untrusted, enemy… just finding solace and comfort only to be pushed away. You showed no signs of threat and just like his first time with the Metkayina Clan, he is being ridiculed, scorned, mocked, and shamed.

The anger in him slowly crept up in his veins. He felt his eyes twitch.

Like a calculated venom, he spat out the following words: “If you are no help then maybe you don’t deserve the title of the Tsahik.”

Ronal's intense stare wavered, as Lo’ak parents scolded him. He held his ground, looking at the Tsahik in front of him.

Tonowari held his mate’s arm softly, looking at her as if talking with her with only his eyes.

“It is a child…” Tonowari whispered, looking at Ronal softly and back towards their own children. Ronal knew the feeling of a mother, and how she didn’t want her own children to be separated from her own family; When the Sky People had posed a threat far greater than what they could fight.

Your own mother must be out there, worried about her own child's loss in the sea. Ronal couldn’t do that even with the former enemy.

Metkayina’s are forgiving, and if the sea had brought you here then there must be a purpose. Because if not, you should’ve drowned a long time ago.

Ronal exhaled defeatedly conceding to her husband’s request.

“Bring her to me.” Ronal demanded, and with that, the healers of the clan carried the girl away from Lo’ak’s hands.

Leaving Lo’ak standing there with his family looking at him worriedly. Kiri carefully stepped around the tired creature, looking at it in wonder. It was majestic in her own eyes, far too different as its muted red color scales glinted in the moonlights.

“You disrespected her and our family. Do you understand that?” Jake scolded looking at him in anger.

“Lo’ak, you do not talk to the Tsahik that way!” Neytiri scolded, only for his mother’s eye to fall right into his bloodied chest. His mother’s breath almost caught in a hitch, it reminded her of another most recent loss far too great for a mother to experience.

Neytiri’s hand wavered in front of his son’s bloodied chest, she could almost feel the cold embrace of her guilt when Lo’ak slapped her hand away.

The pain in the eyes of the mother did not go unnoticed by Jake and Lo’ak.

Lo’ak reassured his mother: “I am fine, mother. It’s just a scratch.”

Lo’ak own erratic breathing was pulsing with anger, but when Jake place a comforting hand on his son’s head Lo’ak realized that he was back to directing his anger to what was in front of him. Just like what he had done when he met you.

“Where have you been?” Jake asked, this time he lowered his tone. Wary about how it would sound in the ears of his child.

“Ma Jake, you ask questions later. Your son is bleeding.” Neytiri softly said, grabbing her son’s shoulder tightly, as if Lo’ak would disappear as soon as she closed her eyes. “I apologize… let us go and I’ll heal you.”

Walking side-by-side, the tarākona shifted awake, looking at Lo’ak, and followed him begrudgingly. Its forked tongue hissed in the air, while Kiri remained intrigued. It was a beautiful creature, it looks to be a bonded creature of a warrior.

Kiri noticed there was a prominent burnt scar on the tarākona’s neck. Far too calculative to be just a mere coincidence, like it was meticulously placed there. Even with its tired state, the creature followed its own owner; not even bothering as it slithered away from the watchful eyes of the na’vi who were far too curious about the said creature.

Lo’ak looked behind him, watching as the light in the pod of Tsahik glow as they healed you. In the dim light of lanterns, it gave your sleeping figure a heavenly glow.

You looked serene, peaceful… perfect.

Māori Words Used: Manawa Wera - Manawa (heart), wera (hot) means “being fervent of heart and passionate”. In the case of the story, it is the Clan of the Ash People, the Fire-Dwelling Clan. Taglist: @okaylorrainee, @destinylb

A/N: I SPENT A GOOD TIME RESEARCHING GOOD NAMES THAT FIT FOR ASH PEOPLE CAUSE JAMES CAMERON WOULDNT PROVIDE ME WITH ONE.

Also, I would like to give credit to the recording artist, Ria Hall, I was listening to her album named “Manawa Wera”. Also "Set Fire to Rain" by Adele is one of my looped songs for writing this. Also if you go back to the prologue you would notice something, there is now a header! This is a reminder that the plot belongs to me, except for the characters of the Avatar Franchise. This is only for fictional purposes.

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rokuhoku · 1 year

Text

"... are you pouting?"

Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader

Rating: General Audiences, Comedy

Summary: Namor waits by your usual meeting place... except this time you don't show up. And for the following days, you fail to show up again, causing your friend to feel greatly unnerved.

Word Count: 3,552

Content Warning: None

Disclaimer: Again, as mentioned before, Namor is slightly cold towards the reader! He isnt hateful or anything, just has his guard up bc of surface world resentment. Though, that guard can be taken back down sometimes ;)

__________

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." /

"... are you pouting?"

__________

“I always go here before the sun sets, the view gets really good, you know? Pero wala pa rin siya sa Pinas, ang init dun, shet.”

You stated, though what you said only seemingly fell on deaf ears. Namor continued looking ahead, not showing any signs that he was actively listening. Nonetheless, you smiled, staring back at the ocean, just as he was.

“Yung tipong parang niluluto ka na nung araw kada labas mo.” You laughed to yourself, and Namor’s lips twitched upwards for a split second.

The golden hues shining on your skin wasn’t as scorching as it was in your country, however. You mused to yourself. Your hands splashed a bit in the water, as you were in it with him this time, making sure to wear something waterproof.

Was it a dumb idea to be in the same environment as someone who could kill you in an instant? Probably. But it was a particularly hot day out and you will be damned if you don’t take a dip in the water.

“So when you come up here to…” Your lips pursed, and a part of Namor disliked your hesitation. “... meet up. Make sure to not make it so late? I don’t like waiting until night time. Baka magtaka kaibigan ko tas masampal pa’ko pag nakauwi ako ng sobrang late na, hehe.”

Namor would’ve scoffed if he could, it was as if you were demanding him to attend these meetups that weren’t even mandatory. It did not benefit him nor you in any way to keep meeting up like this.

And yet.

He still always managed to come on time.

Just as how it is right now.

Namor’s eyes scanned the area from where he was in the deeper parts of the water. You weren’t here yet, which was particularly strange for him. You always managed to get here a few moments after noon, so seeing your regular spot empty was somewhat foreign to him, having spent so much time with you.

He frowned, this was peculiar. You were always there to greet him with an enthusiastic smile and wave, sometimes with a book in your hands or with the soft tunes of your native tongue in the air. Today, however, none of those were present on the land he often frequented.

Had something come up? You would usually tell him the day before if you were not able to come by, though he would often reply with nothing or just a silent nod. He did not know why, but his stomach seemed to turn in on itself as he anticipated you to walk in any moment now.

Namor waited with bated breaths while he stared down your usual spot, as if you would materialize there in any moment. He waited for you to walk in with a laugh, pointing at the way his head would stick out of the water. He waited for the sound of your home country’s tunes, or the sound of your voice humming quietly as you would set down a blanket of sorts to sit on, because you hated the feeling of sand in your clothes.

He waited.

Namor paused in his thoughts. Why was he overthinking this? An earlier, not so distant past version of him would have felt relieved to not see your face, to not see the face that was somehow capable of flipping his whole worldviews upside down, who challenged yet understood his worldviews.

The blue hues of the sky soon faded into a colorful mixture of yellow, orange, and purple. Yet there was still no sign of you, causing Namor to slowly feel quite dumb for waiting in the water for as long as he did.

He should just go back, his mind would reason with him. Manage over the people, protect your land, protect your people.

Namor’s lips twitched downwards as the scenery around him already darkened, the sun disappearing over the horizon, and still no sign of you.

He wistfully sighed and turned back around to head for his home, it was not fair of him to expect you to always attend these daily meetups of yours. He, for one, has been guilty of not attending these meetups and just leaving you in the dusk. So of course, he should not have expected punctuality from you when he himself did not even do it.

The familiar heavier pressure of the waves underwater enveloped Namor’s body, as did the feeling of... disappointment.

~~~

The following day, Namor made sure to come a bit earlier, justifying that this time he would leave earlier instead. When in reality, the back of his mind had been telling him that he should try to make up for the lost time from yesterday.

Your usual spot had still been empty, with no evidence of you by a blanket or bag in sight. The sky wasn’t clear this time, as if the clouds were accompanying Namor in your absence. This time, his head was fully out of the water instead of the upper half just peeking out, so he could get a good look from his position to the whole beach.

His eyes desperately searched the area, his ears twitching in hopes of hearing your familiar mischievous laugh, his hands twitching within the water as he remembered the few times it had brushed with yours.

Namor’s actions of today echoed those of yesterday, yet now with a slight hint of more desperation and anticipation. It felt foreign not to see your face, the way it somehow always managed to trick his lips into smiling more and more as the hours would go by.

This hadn’t even been the first time he hadn’t seen you for days at a time, yet those were by his terms. Now, it was you deliberately not meeting up with him, and it somehow affected him quite a bit.

Namor’s thoughts recalled those of his yesterday, as he is reminded with the various times he would just not show up for days at a time, and yet you were always there to welcome him with a laugh and a wave. Sometimes, you would even come with a mango in hand that you claimed to be superior to the rest as it had come from your home country specifically.

He should not feel bad. His mind would reason. He is the one tasked to lead and protect his people. It continued. He had duties. Of course he wouldn’t always be available. Namor knew that, and he was sure that you did too.

And yet, the multiple times of Namor not even showing up seemed to have weighed heavily upon his shoulders as he returned once more to Talokan, the sky already turning dark.

~~~

As the days went by, the feeling seemed to only grow heavier and heavier, as he felt somewhat more and more anxious and impatient to see you, desperate to listen and reply to your various musings about the most mundane things.

The people of Talokan could somewhat feel the disappointment and loneliness haunting their king as he went on his usual strolls about their kingdom.

The king thought he was subtle, but almost everyone knew of his escapades, often disappearing into the shallower parts of the water. But no one had the heart to tell or stop him, seeing as he always seemed to be in a better mood, his smiles being gentler and brighter whenever he visited their various homes.

Their king had a sort of bounce to the way he traveled the waters, and this feeling seemed to travel and spread with his people, as children were joyfully laughing, playing and running by him.

Yet now, the king seemed to wear a sullen expression, his eyebrows pushed down, furrowed as he seemed to be deep in thought. Of course, he would still gently smile and nod whenever making eye contact with his people, yet it felt hollow and empty this time.

The Talokanil did not speak of it, but it was clear that whatever their king had been doing, he had not seen much of it recently.

~~~

It had officially been five days since the last time Namor saw you.

And there had still been no sign of you.

For five straight days, Namor waited by the deeper depths of the water until it was past dusk, waiting for anything from you. The past five days have felt as if they were five moons, with him constantly scanning the area in hopes that you were only playing a cruel game of hide and seek. Namor kept on arriving earlier than the previous days, yet still going back to Talokan only when the sky was too dark for him to justify that you would somehow still arrive. He felt like his mind had been drowning in various anxious thoughts regarding you.

What if something bad happened to you? What if you were in great danger? What if you moved back to your country without telling him? What if you decided his grumpy presence wasn’t worth it? What if you got sick of him for being so distant and cold? What if others had found out about your close relationship with him, and planned to blackmail information from you?

Wait.

Close relationship?

He shook his head, bubbles forming around it. The thoughts swirling inside his mind could conquer the strongest cyclones and typhoons if they tried. A few fishes were nearby, side eyeing him as if to say, calm down.

Namor found that his world had become rather… quiet and uneventful without you trying to trick him into swearing, or trying to learn his own native language and stumbling over your words, before trying again with a determined look. Without the soft tunes of your music lulling him into entering a world where he could just be. Where, for a moment, he could just relish in the calming sound of the waves and your humming. Or even with only the quiet sound of you turning a page and subtly acting out the descriptors of your book with your face.

He didn’t know when or why it had become so… empty and quiet without your company. A large number of your meetups, you two wouldn’t even converse and would simply just exist around each other, with him occasionally sitting beside you and silently reading along to whatever book that piqued your interest.

The corner of his lips pulled downwards even more, as he practically bore a hole with his eyes onto your usual spot, an action he had been doing for a few days by now. Namor was somehow never tired of trying to find you and repeating the same actions, thoughts, and feelings beat for beat with each passing day of your absence. The sky was yet again fading into a warm mixture of orange, yellow, and purple hues, the sun already beginning to lower.

Namor looked back at your usual spot before sighing, shaking his head and turning away, already making up his mind to go home. He should stop waiting for you for so long, anyway. He was sure that the people of Talokan were starting to take notice of how often he would leave for more hours at a time than usual.

Thud.

Namor’s head whipped back as a loud footstep was met on the sand’s surface. Could it be…?

Thud. Thud. Thud. The familiar sound of running.

Familiar.

As if not believing his own senses, Namor’s body slowly moved through the water’s currents, as the top half of his head peaked through the water’s surface, his eyes squinting under the harsh rays of the rather beautiful sunset.

A laugh, and a point.

You were catching your breath by the seashore, an eco-bag over your shoulder, with your usual blanket tucked under your arm. You let out a rather tired sigh of relief, muttering to yourself about how thankful you were you didn’t miss the sunset. The moment your eyes met Namor’s, it seemed as if his world had become much noisier once again, as he was suddenly very much more aware of the tactile feeling of the water’s texture surrounding him, more aware of the fishes swimming near or around him.

“BA’T KA LAGING GANYAN SUMILIP AMPUTA?!” Followed by more laughter, as you practically keeled over laughing.

And more importantly, he could clearly hear the sound of your laughter, your voice.

You were laughing at him again, more than usual. Perhaps it was due to the fact that you missed seeing him weirdly peeking out of the sea with a glare, or perhaps this was just one of those days wherein you decided to be a bit more teasing.

His mouth moved on its own, a smile slowly forming on his face, as he rather dramatically flouted out of the water, the sound of his ankle-wings flapping in the air. When he was nearing you, you bore a grin at him, before setting down your bag and blanket, ready to hangout like you always did.

However, when Namor’s feet finally landed on the sand, you were met with a rather sour expression on his face. Your eyes narrowed at him, as the corner of his lips tugged downwards, the usual scrunch between his eyebrows being scrunchier than usual.

“O, anyare sa’yo?” Namor frowned even more at you, if it was even possible. His mind was already throwing its own tantrum. ‘What’s up with you’? That’s the first thing you say?

This caused you to feel quite flabbergasted on how quickly Namor can switch from smiling at you to suddenly looking at you as if you gripped on his wings (again). You stood up from your spot on the blanket, crossing your arms and tilting your head to the side in confusion.

“Did something happen?” Namor refused to look you in the eye, and his arms soon mirrored your own, albeit it was aggressively crossed. His head turned the other way, and you were sure you heard a quiet hmph come from him, causing you to laugh lightly. You hummed, noting the way he refused to meet your eyes.

“Teka…” You muttered quietly, before stepping a bit closer to scrutinize his face. You practically shoved your head towards him, causing him to flinch for a split second before going back to such a grim and tight expression.

“... Are you pouting?” You were holding back laughter, he could tell from the snorts you tried to cough away.

Namor sighed, already inching towards the water. Why he waited ever-so-eagerly for you is beyond him now, as he is met with the usual teasing and laughing from you.

When he started taking a step towards the water, you panicked. You already knew that look! You immediately stopped and grabbed onto his bicep. A part of him found that the scorching touch of your hand against his cool skin was relieving, though this part was quickly buried away.

“Hoi! Joke lang, ‘eto naman!” You practically protested, pulling Namor back to your usual sitting space. This obviously did not work, as his body went rigid, with you practically hauling him back to no avail. Damn you, super-strength!

Namor sighed once more, and turned back, sitting down with a ‘thump!’ on the sand next to your blanket, crossing his arms once again. This confused you for a moment, before you shrugged it off and sat down on the blanket, not really used to the close proximity as the fish-man tended to prefer being in the water instead of the sand.

The thick blanket of silence was placed upon the both of you, as you practically fiddled with the material of the blanket between your fingers. Meanwhile, Namor was simply sitting beside you, staring straight ahead. Gago, ba’t ang awkward?! Isang linggo lang naman kami ‘di nagkita!

In reality, Namor was also in the same predicament as you, finding himself at a loss for words or what to say to you. For a reason that escapes him at the moment, he made sure to patiently await your company for days at a time, so why can’t he say anything right now?!

He collected himself once more, opening his mouth to speak to you.

“... Tu'ux ka'ach?” Namor’s head turned to you, his frown softening along with the scrunch in his eyebrows, as he looked at you with what appears to be curiosity, maybe even with a hint of concern?

Catching on that he spoke in his native tongue, you slowly mouthed out the words he said, a quirk he noticed earlier on, before beaming at him with a reply, indicating that you understood what he had said.

“Ay! Nilagnat lang ako ng sobra, hehe.” You casually said, practically waving it off as you pulled out some usual snacks and fruits you brought with you from your bag.

“Ba'ax úuch?”

Namor was exasperated with how you brushed off the fact that you were sick, his eyes now fully showing concern as he slightly turned towards you more, leaning down to listen more intently. You decided that stuffing your face with more snacks would distract you from the palpitations that seemed to have come from nowhere. You were sure that he could hear the violent pounding of your heart, so you swallowed thickly as you processed his question.

“Actually, ‘di ako sure? Bigla lang ako nagkasakit, baka dahil nag-swimming ako nung isang araw.” You recalled, noting the way you practically didn’t even try to dry off due to how hot it was that day.

If Namor had it in him, he would have facepalmed at your carelessness. Sometimes, you were too careless with your body, just as how you were when you two first met (but that is a whole other story on its own).

He clicked his tongue at you. “You’re only human, ten asab Bik.” Namor basically scolded you. You playfully scoffed and rolled your eyes at him. “Pasensya na, ‘di lahat kasing lakas mo.” You remarked lightly. Though, with the way he seemed to be worried over you did make your heart skip a few beats. You took a mental note of going to the cardiologist.

“Seryoso ako.” Namor suddenly spoke up, jumpscaring you to your core as he spoke in your mother-tongue, albeit you can hear the slight hesitation in his voice.

His arms uncrossed, as a hand hesitantly placed itself on your leg. “Kanantaba, take care of yourself."

You were at a loss for words, sputtering around the place. A corner of Namor’s lips curled slightly upwards, amused that he somehow managed to make you choke on your words, with you always doing it to him any chance you get.

You cleared your throat, before a mischievous look glinted within your eyes once again, causing Namor to feel that maybe he should have evaluated the situation more.

“Bakit?” You started, leaning towards him, the space between the two of you now only being centimeters apart. Namor didn’t flinch, surprisingly enough, as he was too shocked at your actions.

“Na-miss mo ‘ko, ‘no?”

Silence.

If a fellow Filipino were to have heard you right now, they would have smacked you with a hanger due to how cheesy the line you delivered was.

Meanwhile, Namor was too busy having a crisis on his own. Did he miss you? Is that what it was? The anticipation? The waiting? The disappointment? What nonsense! You were but a mere surface dweller and he was the king of Talokan! (Namor would later on realize that he sounded like a child throwing a temper tantrum.)

Back to your perspective, you were only met with complete and utter silence. You didn’t know if it was the heat or what, but you were sweating quite a bit as you awaited his reply. Soon however, dread settled in your stomach as you thought of the possibility of him walking out on you again.

“Uhm, huy, joke lang yu-”

“Yes, I did.”

Silence once again.

But this time, K’ukulkan was the one to have the mischievous glint in his eyes. The way he answered so matter-of-factly caught you off-guard, and he was glad it did.

Your mouth was practically agape when you finally processed what he said. Did he just admit to emotional vulnerability? To you?! Especially about missing you?!

However, when K’ukulkan’s lips soon curled up into an amused smile, you rolled your eyes and turned away from him, hoping that the pounding of your heart against your chest couldn’t be noticed.

“WHATEVER, ‘bala ka ‘jan!” You exclaimed, pretending to look for your phone in your eco-bag, just to find something to do with your hands. K’ukulkan chuckled, which sounded like a melody to your ears, so you couldn’t help from smiling and quietly chuckling with him.

After a few moments, soon enough you were both back to your usual positions, with K’ukulkan back in the water as you quietly read a book from your blanket. The soft tunes of your native tongue played in the air, as Namor took note that this was one that he particularly favored, and he was sure that you caught on to that. He felt that this moment was close to his home.

A small part of K’ukulkan meant what he said, and he also wondered if you felt the same.

You did.

You both did.

#namor x reader #namor x you #namor x y/n #namor x filipino!reader miniseries #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 #namor mcu #mcu x filipino reader #namor x reader fluff

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footprintsinthesxnd · 1 year

Text

Love and War

Previous Chapter Masterlist

Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+.

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Alabama, 1947

“Eugene? Honey, come on we’re going to be late.” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through the house as she hurriedly tried to fit everything into her bag. Her youngest son, Thomas, cradled to her chest as he babbled, grabbing fistfuls of her neatly curled hair. From down the corridor she heard a cacophony of laughter as Bob emerged with Eugene tucked under his arm as he tickled his son.

“There’s my boys. Come on, we've got to go, we've got a drive ahead of us.”

Bob nodded, placing little Eugene to the floor. He scrambled away running to his mother. The boy was the spitting image of his father, blonde hair slicked down, mischievous blue eyes, the same cheeky smile. (Y/n) handed Tommy over to Bob as she picked Eugene up, hurrying the little family out of the door and to the car.

The drive wasn’t too long, only three hours from Louisiana to Alabama but with a small baby and a three year old it wasn’t going to be boring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pulling up the familiar drive, (Y/n) watched as Bob’s face turned into an immediate grin upon seeing Albert, with a similar smile on his face, appearing on the porch. Bob pulled the car to a halt, jumping out nearly before it had stopped. Albert hurried down the steps throwing his arms around Bob’s shoulder.

“I miss you,” Bob mumbled into Albert’s neck.

“I missed you too.”

Both men pulled away, clapping each other on the back before Bob turned to (Y/n), he stepped forward, taking Tommy from her arms so she could help Eugene out of his seat. When they both looked up Mary was hurrying down the steps, a small bundle nestled in her arms and Bonnie hot on her heels.

“It’s good to see you Mary.” Both women gave each other a small hug and a smile.

“Who’s this little guy?” Albert asked, peeking down at little Tommy who was wriggling in his blankets in Bob’s arms.

“This is Thomas,” Bob said quietly, gazing down at his son in adoration. Albert looked up quickly, a sharp intake of breath could be heard.

“After Jackson?” He asked, his voice slightly squeaky.

“Yeah, after Jackson.” Both men shared a knowing look, a look that could only be shared by two people who had been through absolute hell together. Everyone was quiet for a moment until Eugene started crying that Bonnie wouldn’t share her toys, causing all four parents to hurry the children inside in a desperate attempt to distract them. It worked and soon both children were playing happily while both baby Tommy and Mary and Albert’s son, Ronald, slept peacefully side by side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning quickly moved into the afternoon and then evening. The sun began to dip in the sky, casting a golden glow through the stained glass window in the kitchen.

Both women were occupied with the children so Bob and Albert took a moment's peace, sitting quietly on the porch swing. They sat in silence for a long while, a comfortable silence much like the ones they had shared on many nights through the war. They knew exactly what the other was thinking without even saying it, a silent conversation between their eyes.

Bob let out a deep sigh, running his hand through his blonde locks. They were getting a little long, hanging into his eyes sometimes, much longer than the army would ever have let him have it.

“I think of him, you know…Jackson. I think about him every day, every damn day,” Albert sighed, he inhaled his cigarette smoke deeply.

“He was a good kid.” Bob replied. He could feel his eyes becoming heavy, filling with unshed tears that caused them to glisten in the setting sun. Albert looked over at him, his own tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks.

“We did it, Bob,” Albert grinned tearfully. “We made it home.”

“Yeah…” Bob sniffed loudly, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “Yeah we did.”

“We survived for him. We made it back just like we promised. We survived Bob.” Albert sobbed. Despite two years having passed since they had finally returned home to the States, they were never the same. The agony that they both felt at the thought of their fallen comrade, just a boy really. It was an agony that many felt, having created such a bond that could never be broken, having formed such friendships that would last a lifetime. A brotherhood.

Sitting on that porch in Alabama next to his friend Bob knew that he’d done good by his promise to Jackson. He’d made it and he was living his life to the fullest. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as his wife cradled baby Thomas close to her, her lips moving quietly as she sang to him. He loved her more than anything else in this world and he vowed to tell her that every single day for the rest of their lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @bradshawseresinbabe @wkndwlff @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @airedale17 @shadowolf993 @flyboyjake @topguncultleader @callmemana @t-nd-rfoot @desert-fern @cherrycola27 @green-socks @jstarr86 @starkleila @alexxavicry @roostette @floralfloyd @soulmates8 @depressed-friend-blog @mayhemmanaged @shanimallina87 @shadowsintheknight @bcon24 @cassiemitchell @genius2050 @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e

#love and war #bob floyd x y/n #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #robert bob floyd #ww2 fic #ww2 au #1940s #101st airborne division #101st airborne

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rabbitenn · 8 months

Note

Kyouko Kyouko! Her is my first request~ Can I request Tenn with an idol!s/o who returned in the work recently (they were in a hiatus for some reasons) and who wears different wigs while going on tv/on stage as to not get fans while doing normal things like dating or groceries (sorry it's oddly specific ops) thank you in advance~

SUISAI.

Suisai — Japanese. Meaning ‘watercolor.’

Because no matter what, you were his favorite shade of love.

ft. Kujo Tenn x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, romance.

hello, love ! thank you so much for requesting <3 I apologize that this took a while to complete, I still hope I managed to write this to your liking and that you enjoy, mwah !

— Shades of ash and steel hung over the skies the day the famed idol [Y/n] announced their temporary hiatus from the stages. Reactions from fans were as diverse as the colors of the sky just as the sun dips behind the horizon, but a gloomy mood helplessly settled over the crowd.

— You needed a little respite after your last tour, having powered through concert after concert, no matter if you were coming down with a cold, tired from late nights or the sky was pouring down.

— Plus, the fame you had gained throughout it all brought more and more fans into your daily life: when you went grocery shopping, taking walks, to cafes… You were happy seeing their smiles when they recognized you and asked for autographs, you really were, but a small part of you was growing weary with so little privacy.

— Thus, the decision was made, your agency having approved too.

— Even your boyfriend, the renowned Kujo Tenn from TRIGGER, was relieved to hear you were taking care of yourself. Obviously you teased him about it, seeing how he always pushed himself to give his 110% for his fans no matter the circumstance.

— Poking his cheek, you smirk in amusement: “Look who’s talking.” Which is met with big maroon eyes looking to the side. “If I recall correctly, you left your hospital bed once to perform, even if you were on the brink of fainting, huh?” Another poke, to which he pouts, cheeks taking on a rather vivid tint.

— “This is different.” He mumbles. “Your health and comfort are important to me, my love.” He sighs, guiding your head to rest against his chest. Both because he missed you during your tour, and so that you don’t tease him for blushing like this anymore.

— But just as one fateful day, your temporary break was announced, sunny skies greet the overjoyed cheers of an audience as they get in line to enter the venue.

— “[Y/n], back on stage.” Different neon signs and luminous panels announce, as the crowd can barely contain their excitement. Images of you litter the space outside the building, except there’s a difference in your looks this time.

— You’re still pretty much the same as before your hiatus, except your usual hairstyle is kind of different now, both in color and styling. You chose soft pink for this occasion, with twin half pigtails. Of course, Tenn’s signature color; you really want to feel the way his hand reassuringly squeezed yours before going on stage, throughout all your performance.

— Plus it seems the public likes the new image, for as you make your final move and sing the last note of the evening, deafening applause engulfs you, in a cacophony of shouts: “So happy you’re back, [Y/n]!” mixed with “You look so cute!”

— And thus, your colorful hairstyles became your trademark. From pinks that reminded you of Tenn’s loving kisses, to dusky purples, to midnight blues, to sunny shades of gold, you always managed to impress your fans with a different styled wig at every concert and music video.

— But, of course, the masses’ expectation and anticipation as to which color and style you will wear next were not the main reason you settled for this approach.

— Because now, your daily life is much more peaceful; despite your job offers for commercials and shows having increased since your return, rare are the occasions in which you are stopped in the middle of doing your daily life activities, given that you don’t don your signature colorful wigs off-stage.

— Which, in turn, makes your love life a lot more private too.

— With the added bonus that Tenn loves seeing you in all the different hairstyles (he cherishes the quiet intimate moments the most, in which you are your natural you, however).

♡

Early october air brushes through tree branches, the patches of sky visible through them, a mosaic of lavenders fading into candle-flame oranges.

The ambiance is balmy, a little hot for this time of year, although not unpleasant.

Then again, how could anything ever be less than lovely when he was by your side?

Your head gently leans on your lover’s shoulder, the calmness of the park you currently sit at lingering around you, in an ebb and flow of unsung melodies; a unique pattern of notes following the path of evanescing sunbeams.

Svelte fingers comb through the soft strands of your hair. Today, you wore it in his favorite style for you: just natural. Your own hue, reflecting the dipping sunset; tresses let loose.

This was Tenn’s idea of perfection. You were his idea of perfection.

“Isn’t this nice, my love?” You ask him, lashes fluttering closed, your cheek squished against your boyfriend’s form.

Tenn’s gaze lands on you, molten rose quartz reflecting dawn light over snowy heavens. A soft smile curls his lips, as he wraps an arm around you.

“Indeed.” He muses, with a tender kiss to the crown of your head. “As much as I like giving my fans the best performances and seeing you on stage,” his head rests on top of yours. “This quiet… I like it.” Your lover breathes out, hand finding yours, fingers laced over your touching knees.

Now it is you who reaches out to gently peck his cheek, caressing his flushing skin.

“You’re adorable, Tenn.” You chuckle, as you wrap your arms around him, staring into the watercolor horizon.

A group of teenage girls practice a dance routine not faraway from where you and your boyfriend are sitting.

You know it by heart, it’s the one from your debut song, after all. They don’t seem to have recognized you. You smile fondly; a stray football comes rolling, softly hitting Tenn’s shoes. With a reassuring smile, he passes it to the redhead child that comes running after it; an elderly couple sit on a bench a few meters away from you. You smile at the sight, they seem to be so in love.

Resting your chin on your hand, you glance in your beloved’s direction.

Snowy locks flutter in the wind, akin to a halo, like the approaching moon’s.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” You ask him, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear.

Turning around slightly, the idol removes his scarf, draping it over your shoulders instead.

“Mostly how the sky reminded me of you just now.” Tenn utters, tucking the comfortable piece of cloth closer around you. “Its colors. They shine, like you always do.”

“Really?” You giggle, amused.

“That’s right, my love.” He brushes the hair out of your eyes. “You’re like dawn, or dusk, or starry nights, full of light, bringing joy to everyone. And you make me fall in love with you every single time.”

You stand there, a little mystified at his direct words, heat, enough to replace the fading sun’s, rising to your cheeks.

What a charming angel he was.

“You’ll fluster me!” You whine, burying your face deeper into his scarf.

“You’re rather adorable like that too.” Tenn whispers, as his hand finds the side of your face, those eyes that mirrored winter sundowns drinking in every lash and pore that constellated your lovely features.

As the sky paints itself in shades of violet and dreams, Tenn extends his hand to you.

You take it, and together, you walk, not under stage lights this time, but under the stars.

#idolish7 x reader #idolish7 imagines #idolish7 #idolish7 x you #idolish7 fluff #idolish7 hadcanons #ainana #kujo tenn x reader #kujo tenn #kujo tenn x you #ainana x reader #idolish7 scenarios #idolish7 x y/n #kujo tenn x y/n #anime x reader #anime imagines #anime fluff

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foundtherightwords · 1 year

Text

The Quiet Chaos - Chapter 4

Pairing: Billy Knight (Lethal White/Strike) x OFC

Summary: After a bad breakup throws her carefully-planned life into disarray, Esme has sworn off dating forever. However, when she forms an unexpected connection with a young man named Billy, who's dealing with his own struggles, Esme is forced to face the truth: sometimes you can't plan for love.

Warnings: mental health issues, angst, slow-burn, developing relationship, dysfunctional family, some violence (non-graphic), some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter warning: discussions of mental illness (so sorry if I got anything wrong)

Chapter word count: 4.9k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 4 - First Date(s)

It's strange, how putting a label on a relationship can change its nature. If Esme had been nervous about hanging out with Billy before, when they were not-dating, then she agonized about their "official" date now, wondering what to do, where to go, what to wear. It was so excruciating that she almost regretted asking Billy out. She should've just let their relationship progress naturally. But it was too late for that now.

Thinking back, Esme realized she'd never had to take the initiative on a first date. Her first boyfriend, Marco, was part of her friend group in school, so they just did a lot of the same things and went to the same places; she never had to decide anything. After Marco decided to take a gap year and completely ghosted her, he was followed by a string of casual dates, where she just went along with whatever her dates suggested. And then she met Neil during her third year in uni, and that was that.

Billy, on the other hand, was happy to defer to her, and now, for the first time in a long time, Esme found her suggestions being listened to and accepted. It was rather a heady experience.

She thought it best to stay in the area that they were both familiar with, but even then, the choices were overwhelming. In the end, she decided on an Indian restaurant she'd once eaten at, not far from the clinic. It was the safest bet. The food was good, there was something for everybody, and the atmosphere was cozy and homey, nothing to make one nervous.

Still, Esme couldn't stop her heart from hammering that Friday night, when she entered the restaurant with its colorful glass lamps swinging from the ceiling, their rainbow rays reflected on the walls, and the soft twang of sitar from the speakers. It was warm inside the restaurant, much too warm, and she started to regret her choice of a sky blue dress, afraid she was going to sweat and the sweat stains were going to show. But then the warm, spicy smell of food hit her, and her nervousness was temporarily forgotten as her stomach growled. She had hardly eaten anything that day, partly from nerves, but mostly from wanting to save room for the delicious fare.

She saw Billy seated at a table by the window and approached him. There were already some poppadoms and an array of dips in front of him, and he was so busy fiddling with them that he didn't notice her until she was quite near. Fumbling, he stood up and immediately knocked over the bowl of lime pickles. "Shit," he muttered to himself, then "Sorry," to Esme.

Esme smiled at him. It made her feel better, knowing that he was nervous too.

"You look nice," he said. She thanked him and smiled again, though with some uncertainty this time. She wished she could say the same to him. Although he had put on a clean pair of jeans and a nicer shirt than his usual tee-and-hoodie, there was something rather unkempt about him, different from his general scruffiness. The sunken, almost feverish look in his eyes didn't help either.

"I'm not late, am I?" she asked, though she knew she was not.

"No, I was early. I asked them not to bring out the poppadoms right away but they still did, and now they've gone kind of soft—I wonder if they would warm them—have you ever had a poppadom and cheese sandwich?"

In the few months they'd known each other, that was perhaps the most he had ever spoken to her in one go. "Uh, no, can't say that I have," she replied, slightly bemused.

"It's great. You get some old poppadom, warm it up in the oven, put in some cheese—something sharp, like Cheddar, was best—Double Gloucester was good too—why do they call it Double Gloucester? Is it bigger than the Single?—you let it melt a little, then some mango chutney, it's almost like jam—where is that waitress?!"

He was talking brightly and excitedly, but far too much and too fast. The prickle in Esme's stomach was back, and it was not from hunger. To calm herself, she picked up a piece of poppadom, only to realize Billy had almost crushed them into oblivion.

"When I was leftover—no, I mean when I was a kid, we would have leftover poppadoms from Indian the previous night, and I'd have poppadom and cheese for lunch," he continued. The waitress arrived just then, interrupting Billy's discourse on the superiority of a poppadom-cheese sandwich. Perhaps that was why he looked almost irritated when the waitress asked if they were ready to order, and barely glanced at the proffered menu. Esme ordered extra poppadoms, chicken madras, and rice. For a moment, she tried to remember how spicy the madras was and wondered if it was wise to eat something so strongly flavored on a first date. But if we both eat it, we'll cancel each other out anyway, she thought, and blushed when she realized the implication of that. To hide her embarrassment, she asked Billy if he wanted to share some bhindi bhaji. He didn't appear to be listening. His eyes were fixed on the rainbow patterns made by the lamps on the wall, like one hypnotized.

"Billy?"

With difficulty, he tore his eyes away from the light and started ordering a ton of food, in the same rapid-fire speech. The waitress couldn't write down his order fast enough. Esme kept quiet out of politeness, but once the waitress was gone, she turned to Billy and said teasingly, "Hungry, are we?"

"Sure am." He grinned at her. "We never had a lot of Indian when I was a kid," he said, picking up his story as if there was no interruption at all. "If you want decent Indian—go to Faringdon or Wantage. In our village, there was only this one curry place, and I remembered it was horrible. They would just add curry powder into some unidentified meat stew and call it a curry. Us kids used to tell all sorts of horror stories about what was really in that stew. Jimmy once told me it was dog meat—"

"Who's Jimmy?"

This time, she was sure he deliberately ignored her question. "How's Angua?" he said.

"She's fine, she's settling in—"

"You left her at home?" he interrupted her.

"She'll be all right for a few hours."

"But we might be at it all night!"

As soon as those words were out of his mouth, Billy looked horrified.

Esme raised an eyebrow.

"Please tell me that's a joke about how long it'll take us to eat all that food you've just ordered and not what I think it is," she said in an icy voice that her younger siblings all knew very well.

"I'm sorry!" Billy said through the fingers clamped over his mouth. "I'm so sorry! I didn't—I don't—I didn't mean to say that!"

"Then what did you mean to say?"

Billy looked at her with such despair in his eyes that Esme's anger was almost forgotten.

"I—I have something to tell you," he said.

"What?" She steeled herself for the worst and returned his gaze with a hard, unblinking stare that wouldn't look out of place on a certain stern old witch that was her namesake. On the inside, though, she was screaming. Oh please, please don't reveal some sort of awful secret. My self-esteem can't take another blow.

"I have this—condition." He took a deep breath.

Condition? What kind of condition?! Is that code for "I'm actually a terrible human being and this is my excuse"?

"I have schizoaffective disorder," he said, his earlier excitement gone, his shoulders slumped in misery.

It was so unexpected that for a moment, all Esme felt was a sense of anticlimactic relief. But then came confusion and concern. She wasn't familiar with mental illnesses. She had her share of anxiety, of course, and some of her friends from veterinary school had struggled with depression, but that was normal for anyone in the medical field. All she heard was "schizo", and her mind immediately went to schizophrenia. Probably there was a difference, but she didn't know what, and didn't feel like asking, for fear of stressing Billy out even more. Suddenly it all made sense, his tic, his jumpiness, his slight paranoia, his mentions of therapist and medications.

"Please say something," he said miserably.

Esme floundered for words. She felt sorry for him, but she didn't know enough about his condition to talk about it. In the end, she settled for honesty. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what to say," she said, trying to sound as kind as possible.

"I usually have it under control, but what with the stress and the excitement of the date, I got hypomanic," he explained, then immediately added, "I'm not blaming you!" His hands reached across the table for hers, but he appeared to think better of it and drew them back again, keeping them twisted in his lap. "I'm just—I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner—I was going to, I meant to, I really did. But I—I didn't want to frighten you away—" His words were running together again. His right hand started its tic-like movement to tap his nose and chest, but he slammed it on the table, so hard Esme was afraid he was going to knock over the rest of the dip. Several heads in the restaurant turned toward them. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Esme looked at his usually strong and capable hand, now trembling on the table, and it wrung her heart. Whatever it was that he was going through, it was not his fault. That much she knew. She put her hand over his. "It's OK," she said. It was all she could think of to say at the moment, but that seemed enough for Billy. His trembling ceased, and his breathing slowed.

Just then, the waitress arrived with their food. Esme turned to her with an apologetic look. "So sorry to bother you, but I'm not feeling very well. Could we have this as a takeaway?"

After seeing Billy safely back to his flat in East Ham, laden down with his takeaway boxes ("I'll be eating Indian for a week," he said with a sad, sheepish smile), Esme returned to her own flat. Mentally and emotionally, she was exhausted and just wanted to curl up in bed, but she was still starving—it's funny how your body still functions and craves sustenance, even when your mind doesn't. Eating an entire curry was too much for her though, so she just nibbled on some poppadoms. Then, without really thinking about it, she rummaged in her fridge and found some Cheddar to go with it. He was right, it was delicious. It was like eating cheese with very crispy crackers.

But the thought of Billy squeezed her heart again. Unable to sleep, she looked up his condition and soon fell down a rabbit hole of websites and blogs and forums about mental illnesses. Unfamiliar, unsettling phrases jumped out at her. Psychosis. Hallucinations. Delusions. Paranoia. Mood disorder. At first, it was only her bad luck that she lamented —she had finally found someone she liked, someone kind and considerate, and he turned out to have a mental illness.

Hang on, her voice of conscience piped up. He is still kind and considerate. His mental illness doesn't define him. It's a part of him, but not all of him. The more she read about Billy's condition, the less she thought about herself, and the sorrier for him she felt. How he must be struggling, and how difficult it must be for him, to build up the courage to just talk to her. And she knew that he didn't want her pity. He wanted her understanding and her support. But could she give it to him?

She hadn't been in a lot of relationships—just two long enough to be called serious, plus a handful of casual dates—but all of them have turned out disappointing, so she knew what it was like to put so much faith into someone, only for them to let you down. How much that hurt. And from what she'd been reading about it, Billy's condition was a tough one to deal with. It would be terrible if she made him a promise and couldn't keep it.

At times like these, Esme wished she had a close friend with whom she could confide everything. But she had always been a loner. Most of her friends from uni were busy with their own lives now, and she'd never been close enough with any of them to talk about things like this. As for her family... Her parents would just say vaguely "It's your life, darling, we trust your judgment" and go back to whatever their latest projects were. Dad was making a pool house for frogs out of glass, and Mum was writing a story about frogs building a pool house, probably. Her younger siblings might have cheered her on when she broke up with Neil, who they declared a snob and a half, but they would also remind her that she was the sensible one in the family, and therefore must make the sensible choice. Which, in this case, meant not getting into a relationship with someone struggling with a mental illness. Besides, they were not that kind of family. Oh, they were certainly friendly, even affectionate with each other, and her parents always encouraged Esme and her siblings to express themselves, but when it came to personal feelings, you'd better sort that out on your own, love.

Esme looked around at her living room with its perfect white walls and perfectly arranged furniture, and sighed. She'd always valued order in her life. It was one of the reasons she'd gone out with Neil. One of the reasons she studied science and medicine and became a vet. It wasn't teenage rebellion (in fact, her parents had been quite supportive.) It was to give her life some sense of order and control, after the chaos of being dragged from pillar to post by her parents throughout most of her childhood. And now, with Billy, she was facing another kind of chaos, chaos of the unknown, and she wasn't sure she could handle it.

More chaos than Neil's infidelity? More chaos than how your life has turned out in the past seven months? She recalled Billy's sweet eyes and warm smiles, how he calmed her down, paradoxically enough, how she could nerd out with him, without being afraid of getting mocked or laughed at, how she felt more sure of herself around him. Would that be enough? Would that be enough for her to stay with him and face these unknown things? And would that be enough to silence her insecurities?

The next day was Saturday. Esme went to the rescue center as usual, wistfully remembering how she and Billy had agreed on a Friday night date just in case it turned out disastrous, so they could have another go on Saturday, when they met to walk the dogs. But Billy didn't show up.

"Where's Billy?" Priya asked, while Esme was attaching the leashes to the dogs and trying in vain to fend off their excited jumps. Angua sat patiently to the side, waiting.

"He's—um, not feeling well." Which was technically the truth. She hadn't checked in with him since the previous night, but she imagined he would want some space. And then, because she had been turning the matter over in her head until it was as battered as one of the dogs' chew toys, she blurted out, "Priya, do you know anything about schizoaffective disorder?"

Priya shrugged. "Not much. Why'd you ask?"

Esme bent over the dogs again to hide her flush. She didn't want to go around revealing Billy's condition to people. "A friend of mine just got diagnosed, and I was wondering how I could help, that's all," she mumbled, hoping Priya wouldn't put two and two together.

"Oh, I'm sorry. That's rough," Priya said. "It's good that you want to help though, most people wouldn't even bother." Her words pricked at Esme's conscience. "It's like with the disabled dogs, you know," Priya continued.

Esme protested, with a shocked laugh, "A person with mental illness was not a dog, Priya!"

"I know. I'm just saying, most people won't adopt those dogs because they're disabled, but they're still lovely creatures, you know? And if we don't give them a chance, who would?"

Those words were still playing in loops in Esme's mind when she returned home that evening. If we don't give them a chance, who would? She wondered whether it was she who was giving Billy a chance, or the other way around.

She mulled over the matter for another day, reading some more first-hand accounts of people with the condition and their struggles with dating and relationships. Then, when she came into work that Monday evening and realized she actually missed Billy, her mind was made up.

She gave him a call. He picked up immediately, as if he was waiting by the phone.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm alright," he said. "A bit calmer, now. I think it wasn't just the date, but the stress of keeping this a secret from you—"

"I'm sorry if I made you feel like you have to keep it a secret."

"No, no, it's not your fault, it's—it's just not something I want to go round advertising, you know?"

"I understand," she said quietly. And she did. She might not know what it was like to live with a mental illness, but she knew what it was like to be judged, to be pitied, for things that were out of her control. She'd had enough of that after the end of her engagement. Then she asked, "Can we talk?"

"We are talking." She could hear the slight smile in his voice, and it cheered her up to know she could still make him smile.

"Not on the phone." This was too important to discuss on the phone. "Can I come by your flat tomorrow? Or do you want to go somewhere else?"

Billy took a moment to answer. "It's OK, you can come by. I'm taking a few days off work anyway."

"We can go somewhere else, if that's too stressful for you."

"No. 's fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

Esme had been by Billy's flat a few times but never gone in. It was on a residential street lined with terraced houses and a few blocks of converted flats, some with tiny, neglected gardens out front, but most were just bordered by squares of concrete and stacked with garbage bins. While her own street was not exactly Belgravia, it always made Esme sad to know Billy lived in such a depressing place.

The inside was not much better. It was a tiny two-room flat, but the lack of furniture made it seem bigger. In the front room, which doubled as the living room and bedroom, there was a sofa bed, a TV stand that held no TV, only a CD player and a stack of audiobook CDs, and a rickety table. The other room, which was the kitchen/dining room, was equally spartan, with a small fridge, a hot plate, a toaster oven, a table and two chairs. The windows were covered with Venetian blinds, and the walls were empty, but Esme sensed that unlike her pristine flat, the emptiness was not by choice. There was no personal touch, no memento or decoration, unless one counted the blocks and slabs of wood of all shapes and sizes that were currently scattered on every available surface of both rooms.

"Sorry for the mess," Billy said awkwardly, sweeping some wood chips off of the sofa. "The charlady took the week off."

Clearly, it was a joke to make her feel more at ease. Esme smiled, and he visibly relaxed. "What are those?" she asked, pointing at the pieces of wood, which had all been carved or cut in some way, but didn't really resemble anything.

"There's going to be an exhibition at the studio, wood carvings and sculptures and things," he explained. "All of the apprentices are encouraged to enter. Last week, I kind of went mad"—he said the word evenly, without any hint of hesitation or self-consciousness—"and came up with loads of ideas, but I couldn't concentrate enough to actually carry one out. I get like that sometimes, when I'm bad. I have all these grandiose plans... A few years ago, I even—" But he cut himself off and said no more.

Esme wondered, again, as she had all weekend, if this was a bad idea. Billy did seem a little better compared to last Friday. His eyes were still sunken, but the feverish look in them was gone, and though he still fiddled with his hands, he moved more steadily. But there was still so much about him she didn't know, so much she couldn't prepare herself for.

She sat down on the sofa, Angua taking her now-customary place by Esme's side. "I brought you some food," she said, opening her tote. "You must be sick of Indian food by now. There're sausage rolls in there, some salad, and mini Bakewell tarts. Made those myself," she added, with a modest grin.

Billy remained standing, looking at her with a mixture of tenderness and mistrust, as though he still wasn't sure of her intentions. "You didn't have to do that," he said.

"I know. I just like to bake when I'm nervous."

"What do you have to be nervous about?"

Esme had prepared a whole speech about how she would like to continue seeing him, how she was willing to learn about his condition, and how she would always be there for him as long as he took care of himself first, but now, as she went over it in her head, it sounded so... rehearsed. Detached. Disingenuous. So she simply took Billy's hand, pulled him down onto the sofa next to her, and wrapped both of her hands around his.

"I've thought about what you told me," she said, "and I don't mind."

Happiness and doubt chase each other across Billy's face. Happiness won, and remained. "Honest?" he asked.

"Yes." She squeezed his hand. "But you have to talk to me. Tell me when you're feeling unwell or uncomfortable. Don't keep things from me. Promise?"

"Promise."

Another awkward pause. Esme wasn't sure if she should kiss him now or not. She was never any good at timing when it came to physical intimacy. But Billy solved her dilemma by throwing his arms around her. "Thank you," he said, his voice choked. She let herself melt into the hug and felt him relax as well.

An impatient whine from Angua, probably due to the enticing smell of the sausage rolls, reminded Esme. "We should eat, before the food gets cold," she said to Billy.

"I was hoping our first proper date would be a little more romantic than this," he said apologetically.

"I've been on worse first dates than this," Esme said, smiling. "Really, it didn't matter."

But something just occurred to Billy, and his face lit up. "How do you feel about a night picnic?"

"This isn't another symptom of your hypomania, was it?" Esme asked as Billy led her up the stairs of the tube station, down another residential street, and into a back lane that ran between allotments. It was late autumn, and already there was a bite in the air, signaling winter to come. Most of the crops had been harvested, but some rows of winter vegetables remained, and the greenhouses and poly tunnels gave the place a homey, rustic look.

"No. I told you, this allotment belongs to Jacob"—Jacob was his boss at the woodworking studio, the kindly Father Christmas-lookalike Esme had met the day she went there to find Billy—"and he lets me come here sometimes. He even gave me the key." He stopped in front of a particularly large greenhouse, which took up almost an entire allotment, and pulled a key out of his pocket to demonstrate. He unlocked the greenhouse and walked in. Angua happily followed him, and, after a moment's hesitation, Esme did as well.

Billy fumbled with some sort of switch in the corner, and strings of fairy lights twinkled to life along the greenhouse's ceiling. Esme blinked in amazement. She was standing in what appeared to be a tropical paradise. Shelves lined either side of the greenhouse, stacked with terracotta pots full of colorful orchids and lilies. Tall ferns were placed here and there amongst the blooms, their fronds almost reaching the ceiling, the fairy lights glimmering amongst them like fireflies. More orchids and ferns and air plants hung from the ceiling. A small bench was placed at the far end, between the shelves, just wide enough for two people.

"Do you help Jacob with any of these?" Esme asked, gesturing at the flowers.

"Don't have much of a green thumb," Billy shrugged. "I made the shelves though."

Esme sat down on the bench and opened the bag of food. Billy squeezed in next to her. "Sorry," he said to Angua, who was forced to stay on the ground, for there was no room left.

After the chill of the autumn air outside, the warmth of the greenhouse was delicious. As they sat and ate and talked, Esme decided to reconsider her idea of a first date. It didn't have to be perfect. This wasn't perfect. The bench was damp, the sausage rolls had gone cold, the salad was limp, and the Bakewell tarts were slightly burned. But it didn't matter, because they were enjoying each other's company, and that was all that mattered. She'd put too much pressure on herself, too much planning, too much second-guessing. That was the problem. She should let her hair down a little, as her younger siblings often said. Don't think, just do.

She glanced at Billy. He seemed to have unwound as well. He was leaning against the back of the bench, talking about his woodworking with an enthusiasm she'd never seen from him before, completely different from his manic ranting at the restaurant the other day. Were those the fairy lights reflected in his eyes, or were his eyes actually sparkling? Esme had always found brown eyes rather dull, but looking at Billy's eyes, framed by long, curling lashes, she could have sworn they could change color, going from a dark brown, almost black, to a warm chocolate, to a bright amber, depending on the light and his mood. They were glowing now, and Esme felt she could get lost in them.

Then he turned to her, and her heart lurched.

"So Jacob lets you come here whenever you want?" she asked, trying to regain her composure. "That's very kind of him."

"Yeah. When I'm—bad, or just want to be alone, all these flowers and plants calm me down."

"So why not go to a park, or a botanic garden?"

"It's safer here," he said. Esme nodded, embarrassed that she didn't think of it. Of course. If Billy was having an episode, the last thing he'd want to do was to go to some public place.

"And what does he say about you bringing girls here?"

Billy gasped. "I've never—I don't—" Then he saw Esme's lips quirk up in a grin, and he grinned too. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"I mean it," she said, still grinning. "If you haven't brought other girls here, you should start. Because it's working."

"What's working?" he asked, gazing at her with those mesmerizing eyes.

This would be another moment for a kiss, right? Right?

Don't think, just do.

Esme leaned over and kissed him, by way of answering. His lips were soft, and his beard tickled, the unfamiliar sensation making her laugh. Billy smiled as well, and their teeth knocked together, making Esme laugh harder.

"What's funny?" Billy asked, his lips hovering over hers.

"Nothing. Sorry. I just realized I've never kissed anyone with a beard before."

"You want me to shave?"

"Maybe later—no, I'm joking! I don't mind the beard."

And to prove it, she kissed him again, still laughing. Billy moved into that laugh, pressing his mouth more firmly against hers, while his hands found their way to her back, holding her close.

She believed they would've stayed like that for much longer if Angua hadn't jumped up between them and demanded their attention. They turned to the dog, both fussing over her, trying to apologize for neglecting her, but unable to stay away for long, they returned to find each other's lips, again and again.

"Wanna go home?" Billy whispered, as they drew apart for the third time.

She pressed her forehead to his, so his eyes filled her vision. "Yes," she said.

Chapter 5

A/N: Poppadoms and Cheddar are really good, actually.

"Don't think, just do" is NOT a Top Gun: Maverick reference! It's a line from Snow Patrol's "You Could Be Happy". I only realized it was in Top Gun: Maverick after I finished the fic and looked it up.

And lastly, yes, I did give one of Eddie's lines (with a bit of modification to make it more British) to Billy. Just a little Easter egg for all the JQ fans out there :)

Taglist: @quinnypixie, @accidentalslag, @etherealglimmer (as always, if you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know!)

#billy knight #billy knight strike #cb strike #billy knight fic #billy knight x ofc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn character

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k1ng0fn0b0dy · 2 years

Text

💛 DAY 5 OF MONSTER WEEK — ANGEL PHILZA

[1500+]

[gender-neutral]

Description: You're a priest for Lady Death when you kinda... accidentally... refuse to let the grim reaper claim a soul.

[Read the rest under the cut]

You were raised within a church worshipping Lady Death, who you have always cherished. You have always been told you should never fear death, as it is only natural, it is an unstoppable force. Or, that's what they told you when you had caughten the Withering Effect, a terminal disease with no known cure.

Of course, you had agreed. This has been written in Lady Death's plans far before you knew how to speak, this is your natural course, fear would stop nothing.

Now, facing off an angel, whose darkened black wings you've only seen in portraits, with golden hair and narrowed eyes like from the sculptures. Sir Philza, Lady Death's most beloved angel, has come to take a soul and you refuse to let it happen.

Behind you is a young boy, with similar golden hair and pure sky blue eyes, now watery as they cower and clutch at your robes. He is sickly pale, he is so young.

"Sir Philza," Your voice does not quiver, which surprises you because bravery has never been a title of yours. "I beg of you, do not take this young soul from us. I will offer you anything."

"Even your soul," His eyes, icy blue daggers, cling to your face, to your eyes. They see too much, you feel naked, you don't look away. "It is only natural for disturbing nature so."

"If that is the price, let it be so," You kneel, still keeping the young boy behind you. "I will pay any dues."

Sir Philza looks over you, dancing over every relaxed muscle with a fine-toothed comb, as if searching for any fear. You cannot show it, you will not let the young boy die having lived such an empty life. His eyes aren't icy anymore, there is something substantial in them when he looks at you, as if your choice was respectable instead of ruinous. "I shall accept no soul today. It is my boon to you."

"You are a generous lord, Sir," You stay on your knee, head dipped to your chest. "And what is it you wish instead?"

"I shall accompany you until you die. I wish to see why it is you live so…" Sir Philza's lips audibly pucker, "Interestingly. I can't imagine this is a common occurrence."

"As you wish, Sir," You try to take as stealthy of a deep breath as you can, disbelieving that you had succeded in your insane actions.

{《☆》}

You had arrived at the temple with Sir Philza and Tommy, who had insisted on joining you to protect you from Sir Philza, who has firmly cemented himself in the young boy's head as evil. Having brought Sir Philza along with you, your fellow priests had spoken only politely to you, with none of their usual casual speech, as if you were a Saint instead of their friend, It all felt so alienating.

Sir Philza has been shadowing you since and with Tommy's health rapidly getting better, he also followed you around. It was only after a week did Sir Philza seem inclined to inform you that Tommy had the magical attunement to become a Saint to Lady Death.

Of course, you had told Tommy, who insisted on doing morning and afternoon prayers with you to see if Lady Death could stop what he called "the dying of your light" which Sir Philza pleasantly translated as Tommy seeing your soul dying. Truly heartening.

"Sir Philza," You took the time to initiate a conversation with the angel at least once a day, both from obligation and curiosity, "How long have you been collecting souls for Lady Death, our records are unclear."

"I'm not quite sure," Sir Philza paused, "I was born very early, far before any other angel could recall. I must at least be half a million years old at this point."

"Oh," You can't say you expected a number that large.

"Wow, you're old," Tommy chimes in unhelpfully. "You're like a grandpa. Grandpa Phil."

Sir Philza smiles, every day he seems to become more endeared to Tommy, and now he positively beams, "I am a grandpa, so I suppose you're allowed to call me as such, young saint." He looks far more pleased than he pretends.

"I wasn't aware angels could have children," You say before Tommy can disrespect the powerful angel more. "Are you the exception or should I fix our records."

"A little of both," Sir Philza doesn't need to think for this one, "It's completely possible but since most of our children are born mortal, angels don't bother. So, I'm definitely an exception to something."

"And were they?" You blurt before you can stop yourself. You cough, "Mortals, Human I mean."

"Yes," Sir Philza looks down at Tommy, who looks considerably more bored as he starts stacking and breaking towers of books. His face is wound tightly in pain, "My son was born mortal, as was my grandchild. I--," his breath catches, "I killed him myself."

"Oh," You weren't sure what you were expecting. Then, your wounds flare and you grunt, "My apologies for asking such a thing."

"It's no bother," Sir Philza laughs it off. He is a very kind person, you've found out. He is polite even though he's of such a high status, cares for humanity, and adores children. He is more human than some people you've met, even as an angel. "How has your daily prayers going," His eyes curve as he smiles, "I imagine Tommy is a delight so early in the morning."

'You sigh heavily, "Do not get me started, Sir Philza. I'm beginning to think he is an imp not a saint."

He laughs, "Oh yes, I can imagine. Were it not for my aversion to mornings, I'd join you just for the sight."

"You don't need to see it to know," You gesture your hands as you talk, "Every priest in the temple is talking of the newest way Saint Tommy's disrupted morning prayers. Most find it endearing but Sir Marshall has written multiple strongly worded letters, none of which Tommy had bothered to read."

"I read some of them," Tommy protested, "But he uses too many long words and they get boring quickly."

"That's fair, young saint," Sir Philza ruffles Tommy's hair, "If I read every letter sent to me, I would also stop reading them all at some point."

"Sir Philza," You stay, scandalized. Then your stomach feels inclined to rearrange itself and your vision blacks out from the pain. Tommy is being kept preoccupied from noticing by Sir Philza, who can tell just by looking at you how little time is left.

{《☆》}

He finds you sitting outside one day, staring into the sky. Your soul is weak, dim and dying. There is so much melancholy in this painted picture; a dying priest sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, staring at stars which are simultaneous dying and being reborn every second.

"Why did you let me live that day," You trace lines at the stars, memorizing the constellations' unique shine. You don't look over when you hear Sir Philza sit. "What did you see in me."

There's a pause before Sir Philza breaks it hesitantly, "You protected that young boy. You wanted to protect his pure soul, even though he was a stranger. You were unwavering, unstoppable."

"You let me live because I don't fear Death," You surmise because it's the only thing you can fathom.

"I let you live becauseyou fear Death," Sir Philza corrects, tone ever so soft, "If you hadn't feared Death I would think you a fool but… You protected Tommy even when you were afraid. You didn't hesitate, you didn't back down. Your kindness is rare and your strength even rarer."

"You flatter me," Your eyes settle down to your lap, embarrassed to hear such a spin on that story. In your memories, it had been sudden and quick. You had been afraid, very afraid actually. But you have never once regretted it and you wouldn't've even if you had actually died. "I have a lot to thank you for, Sir Philza,"

"At that moment, you looked like an immovable object," Sir Philza said, voice quiet like the admission was a secret. It's almost like he hadn't heard you. "You reminded me of Lady Death."

"That's a high compliment, Sir, really but…" You faltered, finally looking over at him. He was looking at you too, as if he was seeing through you, cradling your soul with his warm smile, like a parent holding their child. "I will miss this after I die."

Sir Philza's smile loses its warmth and he looks as sad as you feel, "I will miss this too. You are a special soul, young priest, and it's an honour to know you."

"I should be the one saying that," You laugh sadly, gazing back up at the stars. They shine extra bright tonight as if to say We see you too, we burn for you. "I have a selfish request to make."

"Anything," Sir Philza says, with no pause this time.

"I would like for you to be the last thing I see," You whisper, "You and Saint Tommy."

"If that's what you wish," Sir Philza says, voice oh so warm, oh so mourning, "Then it shall be so. I'll ask someone to fetch Tommy. You won't die alone."

"Thank you," You smile, feeling nothing but relief. Maybe you're a fool right now because you're not the slightest bit afraid.

{《☆》}

[Okay, this was supposed to be longer but I'm already late and also have to be up in like 4 hours so just pretend the jump of strangers to friends makes sense PLEASE]

[Anyways, please don't be me. Get sleep, lots of it. Oh and check out the PROMPT LIST OoOOohhHhHWwWweEEeEeEee]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist

Taglist: @creatorofstars

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