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#Grumpy has been warmer to me
medical-anon-whau · 1 month
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Looming Grump Update
tagged: @egrets-not-regrets , @kit-williams
warnings:
Update below the read-more!
So! Update on Looming Grump, which is the nickname I’ve given the Fallen Dark Angel who lives with one of my patients. 
As you  might imagine after being nearly dragged off and… Imprisoned? By Interrogator-Chaplain Asmo-whoever and his posse, Looming Grump was pretty twitchy and anxious for the rest of my shift with him. On the plus side, he was a bit less openly suspicious of me after I got the Interrogator Chaplain and most of the other Dark Angels he brought with him to leave.
I know that he was fairly distressed by the quiet whining and the way he kept pacing and pacing around his bonded’s home… I think he was probably looking for intruders or watchers. I had genuinely thought that all of the non-Fallen Dark Angels had left, more fool me, I suppose. I hadn’t seen or hard any of them, though I’m guessing that the Fallen knew that the lurker was still there.
It certainly explains the pacing and agitated behavior. Though nearly being dragged away from your loved ones for who the fuck knows what reason is probably incrediblyupsetting as well. I did inform the agency I work for about the near-invasion of the patients’  home and Looming Grump’s reaction to all of that.
The agency is currently speaking with the patient and their family. One of the things that my agency provides is assistance with housing,for those who need it for one reason or another. Being stalked by a group of astartes for mysterious reasons is one such reason. The trick is to move the patient, everything they need and whoever is living with them fast and carefully enough that the watching/stalking Astartes don’t notice.
But part of that involves getting… As you may guess… Even more Astartes involved. Some to distract the watchers, and others to help get everything moved from one place to the other fast enough as Space Marines are much stronger and faster than we humans (normal humans? I’ve heard theories that space marines are human-ish? Though they ddon’t seem to suffer the side effects of Gigantism that we normal humans do, at a similar size to them) do.
Aaand given that this Fallen seems to be a bit of a fugitive - at least among the Dark Angels - makes him incredibly unwilling to work with any other Astartes. I can’t say I blame the man, either. 
Which brings me to what happened after I finished my shift . I was walking back to my car when a huge shadow loomed over me. I’m pretty sure that he did that on purpose - either to further scare me, or to give me a moment of warning.The Dark Angel who stayed behind grabbed me and pinned me against my own car and demanded to know why I got myself involved, why I interceded and who the fuck I thought I was. Among a bunch of other questions.
He scared the absolute fuck out of me, though I made sure that I had my Calm Nursing Face on, as I figured that showing fear would only intensify this situation further. I explained to him what and why I was there - and pointed out that the Fallen in question genuinely cares for the sick and injured human who lived there, and that his removal would make their life objectively worse.
He growled at me before putting me down, told me that he would be watching, and stalked off. I hid in my car and tried not to have an obvious freak out and went home. 
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kasagia · 6 months
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Between the bookshelves
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x fem! non-grisha! reader Summary: It was so easy for you to fall for the Black General. It took him one visit to the library in the Grand Palace to catch your eye and make you fantasise about him - a dangerous, mysterious ancestor of the Black Heretic. But that was all that could happen between you two... fantasy, daydreaming, or dreaming at midnight in the privacy of your chamber. He was the strongest of all Grishas, and you… you were just a librarian woman. But maybe your fantasies and huge/little crush on Darkling can turn into something much more? Requested by: @dreampissybaby It took me ages, but I hope you'll like it! 😅🩵🖤 Word Count: 8,2k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~
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You put the books on the shelves, staring at the landscape outside the window. It was winter. The snow fell slowly, glistening in the sunlight. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the shadows slowly taking over the part of the library you were in. It was only when they blocked the view through the window, creating a black curtain, that you realised you were no longer alone.
You squealed, surprised, as your back was suddenly turned to the shelf and pinned against it as a certain man crashed his lips into yours hungrily, giving you no time to say anything.
You moaned into General Kirigan's mouth and tangled your hands in his snow-covered hair as he held you trapped between his strong, well-built body and the bookshelf, tasting you greedily with a passion you had never felt before. And each brush of his lips against yours only felt more intense.
"I was thinking about you for a whole blody month. I couldn't sit through a single meeting without thinking about those enticing lips and the things I want to do to you when I finally return." he whispers, kissing your forehead.
He strokes your cheeks tenderly with his thumbs and studies your face carefully, looking for any changes that may have occurred in the month he's been away.
"You came back earlier. I didn't even hear any sounds of horses from the courtyard or whispers among the maids that you were back with your Grishas." you say, stroking his hair messed by the air. You notice that he still has a few snowflakes in them and giggle at how this dangerous man looks so cute with the snow in his hair, black cloak, and red nose.
"I could have left Ivan in charge of the rest and set off earlier myself. They should be here tomorrow. I left them as I saw the walls of Little Palace, and actually, I saw them in the distance from the tower when I was running here." he admits, and you're pretty sure the blush on his cheeks isn't due to the change in temperature. However, you decided to ignore it and not tease him about his obvious embarrassment.
"Come. We need to warm you up. We wouldn't want the general to get sick and be more grumpy to his soldiers only because he wanted to see a girl earlier."
"But what a beauty she is."
Before you can even answer him, his now slightly warmer lips crash against yours, stealing your breath. You moan as he pushes you onto the windowsill. Your back, cushioned by his hand, hits the cool window as he kisses you, as if trying to make up for the month of separation with his one (or maybe more) kiss.
"Next time, I'm taking you with me so I can claim what's mine whenever I want." he pulls away for a moment to whisper before capturing your lips again. You smile, pulling him closer to you by the black fur on his coat.
"Aleksander..." you moan as your lips part and his hand travels under your dress, caressing your leg and making you shiver, both from the cold air and the electric touch of his skin on yours.
"So distracting, so teasing... my little Otkazat'sya, who is constantly occupying my every thought when I should be focusing on the possible war to come. The saints know you will be my sweet undoing."
Your hands land on the collar of his kefta under his coat, and you slowly move them along his chest, unbuttoning his kefta and shirt. You are caressing every newly exposed bit of his skin with your hands, not ashamed of the desire to touch, and caressing every single part of your general...
"Your man came here." your colleague taps you on the shoulder, taking you out of your 'reading', and nods towards the main aisle.
You turn your gaze away from the book, which was only your excuse anyway, thanks to which you could freely indulge in your fantasies. You take a quick glance at the general.
"Shush!" you hiss at her, checking if the general didn't hear her. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that his attention was completely focused on the bookshelves. "He might have heard you. Besides, he's not my man."
"You better tell him that. Every time he comes here, he asks specially about you. That means something." she teases you as you put the book back on the shelf.
"That means nothing. It's just that I know most of the books on military tactics from my father and brother, so only from me he can find out where exactly it is. I doubt anyone else in this library would understand which book he's looking for." you brush her comment off and walk over to the general, who was looking at the titles of the books on the shelves.
"Good morning. How can I help you this time, general?" you smile politely, trying to fight the stupid fluttering of your heart you had around him. As well as the dirty thoughts that tormented you about this unfairly handsome man.
You thanked saints every time you talked to him, for that he wasn't a heartrender and couldn't hear your traitorous, stupid heart racing fast each time you were in his presence.
You take a moment to study his face, noticing that the dark circles under his eyes have increased slightly over the course of the week. His eyes, although still shining in their characteristic, even mischievous way, are cloudier and more tired. And if you could, you would comfort this over-busy man, or at least try to provide him with some sense of comfort.
But you can't. All you can do is watch him from a distance.
So you do so. You study every bit of his face carefully, allowing yourself to do so when he talks to you about a book, and you pretend to listen to him, right after you heard the title of the familiar book he was looking for.
After all, you didn't want to waste his time… or give him any suspicion that you were taking every possible moment to admire him.
You know that your infatuation and dreams are stupid and that nothing more will ever happen between you two than a polite conversation and maybe the exchange of a few observations about books. But you can't help but imagine how wonderful it would be to kiss his tempting lips, cup his bearded cheek in your hand, or run your hand through his dark brown hair.
Just as his soft voice is no longer heard in your ears, you come back to reality, and it takes all your strength to look away from his too-perfect (for your stupid heart's sake) face and focus on the books on the shelves.
"This is a basic position. You should have it in your book collections." you say, running your finger along the spines of the books and looking for the one he needs.
If you had turned around at that moment, you would have seen a blush spreading across his cheeks as he looked around nervously and cleared his throat, trying to think of an excuse.
"To be honest... my personal library is not kept in such an... order. It's much easier and faster to come here. A nice company is also an additional benefit, as also the opportunity to break away from reports, plans, and other annoying papers."
"And here I thought that soldiers usually kept order around themselves. Especially the general of the whole army." you tease him with a smile and hand him the book he was looking for. His fingers brush against yours briefly, making you shiver.
"I found it hard to keep everything in order in the thought process. Especially lately when so many things which are on my head."
"So I guess your library is pretty messy." you smile as you hear his soft chuckle after your comment.
Everything about this man was ethereal. Starting with his appearance and ending with the way he carried himself. With pride and power radiating from him, which made everyone show respect, awe and fear for him.
Some invisible electric force was pulling you towards him—something inexplicable that only a few people could resist. And you definitely weren't one of them.
Like a moth to a flame. - you think mockingly, knowing that everything he represented was darkness and danger. But you could see more than his shadows. Something that didn't let you put him out of your mind so easily.
"That's putting it mildly." he says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You lick your lips and nod, laughing a bit.
"Maybe you should find someone who will clean up this mess for you. It would be a shame if the general of the Second Army got lost under the piles of his own books." you say, expecting to hear another burst of laughter from him.
But that didn't happen. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, as if he was searching your eyes for some kind of answer. You stared, hypnotised, into his dark irises until he finally saw something in your eyes that made him take a step towards you.
"Are you offering?" he whispers, making you shiver as you try to hold his intense gaze.
The fact that he's close enough that you can smell his cologne, his intoxicating scent, and his warmth, which is nothing like your fantasies, makes it even harder for you to string together a coherent sentence.
"Maybe I am." you whisper back, not sure if he understood it as a statement or a question.
But judging by the way he leaned towards you, slowly closing the distance between you and your lips with each small movement, you think he rather understood your intentions...
And just when you think he's finally going to end this torment—when he's going to lean down and catch your lips in a passionate, tender kiss and pin you to the bookshelves like he already did in your dreams, too many times for you to remember—you two hear somebody calling him.
You are the first to break eye contact, shift your gaze to the shelves next to you, and step away from him, even though every cell in your body screams with the need to be close to him.
"It looks like I have to go." he says. It clears your throat and catches your eye again. His dark eyes are focused entirely on you as he decides to make his move and adds, "I shall be waiting for you tonight if you are still offering your help. I could really use it." he says, ignoring the footsteps approaching the alley.
"Well, I shall meet you then, general." you answer instantly and with a little flirtatious tone before you can think about it or get scared and change your mind.
He gives you such a wonderful, charming smile that it convinces you that he was created by the saints themselves. Your heart skips a beat as he leans down and presses a such gentle kiss to your hand that you have to focus very much to feel his lips on your skin.
"I shall be expecting you then, milaya." he says, and you think he winks at you before turning around just as one of his Grishas comes into view.
They walk away together quickly, the man explaining something to him in a hurry, but all you see is him stealing a quick glance at you before disappearing around the bend into the main alley.
"Milaya?" you whisper to yourself, frowning.
And before you can think it through, you rush to the old Ravkan dictionaries to find this concrete word he used, ready to endure your friend's teasing when you tell her you think you have a date with the general of the Second Army.
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"I told you I didn't want to be disturbed." he says slightly angry, after they return from the training field, where the young Inferni have started a fight with the Squallers and started a damn fire. Aleksander frowned as he felt the soot harden on the sleeve of his kefta.
"My apologies, General, but that was an important matter." Grisha, who interrupted his conversation with Y/N, explains himself as they enter his chambers, straight to the war room.
"Next time, you can only come to me if a Little Palace is set on fire, not some field. And even then, it will be better if you find some tidemaker to extinguish the fire. Understand, Captain?" he asks madly and sits down at his desk. He sighs when he sees the new papers that Ivan must have delivered to him in his absence.
"Yes, sir." he sees Grisha nods nervously. He rubs his eyes and sighs, seeing that his hands are also black with soot.
"Bring Fedyor here. And Ivan. I need someone reasonable." he mutters and gets up to go to the bathroom and get rid of any traces of fighting the fire. "And make sure the kids show up for their night training with Baghra. That should calm them down and keep them busy... at least for a while."
Grisha salutes him and leaves as quickly as he can. Aleksander rolls his eyes and looks in the mirror, cleaning his face. He returns to his desk and looks over the reports Ivan brought. After a few minutes, his heartrenders appear.
"You wanted to see us, sir." Ivan says this, standing in front of his desk. Fedyor is next to him, looking at the general. He frowns at seeing the messy state he is in.
"I have a task for you." he says, and he signs some orders. "First of all, please explain to me how the Little Palace was almost set on fire when I was only a few minutes away?" Ivan swallows and wants to say something, but Fedyor comes first.
"Zoya is on a mission. The kids felt too... carefree in someone else's care. But I assure you, General, that after today, it is unlikely to happen again. I heard them say on their way here that they had never been so afraid in their lives. Besides, they're just kids. Good thing the tidemakers were close. As soon as Zoya returns, she will definitely teach them a life lesson."
He nods, deciding to deal with this matter another time. "Were you able to gather the information I needed, Fedyor?"
"Yes, sir. Y/F/F. These flowers are waiting in the conservatory; you can pick them up and give them to her whenever you want." before Aleksander can scold him for making such bold assumptions, Fedyor continues. "Oh, right, I forgot. David is finishing the necklace you ordered. With her favourite gem, of course. But we have a serious problem, General. People are talking."
"They always talk. What exactly do they have in mind this time?" he clears his throat, trying to ignore how the heartrender so easily suggests his blatant infatuation of Y/N. He decides to remain silent. After all, Fedyor was the best... informant regarding Y/N. And his help was necessary in this case...
Although he liked Ivan's company more, it was Fedyor who was mainly responsible for them both being together, and that means he was more useful in his little mission. How two heartrenders got together—even Darkling didn't know exactly—but he desperately needed all of Fedyor's advice after his own attempts to woo you had failed.
He may have been handsome and had many women vying for his attention, but since Luda... he hadn't really courted anyone. No one was important enough. No one had broken through the wall of his heart created by Luda's death. When he decided that he had buried too many people close to him to endure another death, another loss.
And then you appeared. An ordinary human, not even Grisha. And he fell for you fast, hard, and suddenly, and despite his better judgement, he gave in to this need to be in your presence. And every day, he wanted much more. Irronicaly, he was too nervous around you to finally make a move. Or at least one that will be clear to you and provide him with your… reciprocity of his feelings.
And Fedyor had too much fun helping him to 'get a girl'. Just like teasing the general, who put up with his taunts as long as his advice worked. At least Ivan was here to stop his lover when he walked on the thin line of the general's patience.
"They are… interesting why our general is so often a guest in the Grand Palace… a library, to be precise."
"And? Is it something wrong? Can't I use Ravka's book resources?
It was a weak excuse. Aleksander knew this. But she won't admit his feelings... especially not to Fedyor.
"It's not like I'm going there just to look at her." he adds, mumbling under his breath as his attention is fully focused on the report in front of him. He wanted to finish this as soon as possible to prepare for your visit.
"And with all due respect, moi soverenyi, what exactly are you doing there?"
Aleksander hears Ivan kick Fedyor in the ankle as Heartrender asks him this question. He smiles to himself and finishes writing the last report.
"None of your worries." he says and hands the completed papers with his directions and orders to Ivan. "I'm unavailable for the rest of the day. Only matters of the utmost importance, and I only accept these messages from you two; keep any incompetent soldiers away from me; I had enough of them today."
His thoughts wander back to that moment where he almost managed to kiss Y/N. If it weren't for that damn soldier… his mind wanders to all the possibilities of how his visit could end.
"It really worked? She comes here?" Aleksander wonders if he should be offended by the incredulous tone he used.
"She is. That's why I hope I won't be disturbed anymore. At least not with trivial matters that can be taken care of without my interference and that I can find out about the next morning."
"Does she know she's staying until the morning, sir?"
"Fedyor." Ivan hisses at him, furious, unsure how much longer the general can take it.
Aleksander swallows, embarrassed. He can't help but wonder if you'll be as willing as he is to extend your overnight visit into the next day… or two.
"General, your heart is beating faster. Do you need any help?"
Fedyor smiles, half-malicious, half-happy to see the general melt at every thought of you. You completely swept him off his feet, and he didn't even have a second to defend himself. It was refreshing to see him so... lost in his feelings for you.
"Ivan, get your other half out of my sight before I send him to West Ravka, right through the fold, without any light or Inferni with him." Fedyor tries his hardest to stop smiling at his words. Ivan covers him and nods respectfully to the general.
"Yes, moi soverenyi."
As the door closes behind them, Fedyor laughs softly at Ivan. "Who would have thought that he of all people would choose Otkazat'sya? The one who never stayed around non-Grishas longer than necessary?"
"Do not be stupid. He definitely needs her for something else."
"You yourself heard his heartbeat. He fell head-over-heels. I have to tell Genya to make him a new kefta... preferably two, one male and one female, matching, you know, just in case."
Fedyor smiles as he sees people cleaning the corridors of the Little Palace. Their general was so obvious about his feelings that it hurt. The opinion of a heartless general effectively covered up his obvious actions.
"Why? She's not a Grisha. The general knows better than to pursue her."
"My dear, in the state our general is in now, he hardly cares about the fact that she doesn't have any powers. Besides, I know of marriages between Otkazat'sya and Grishas. There are few of them, but thanks to the sharing of life energy, the couple lives happily ever after, as long as Grisha's one doesn't die."
"Marraige? Don't go that far into the future. Even if he feels something for her, he will get over it."
"You will remember my words when he asks you to be his best man. Come on, honey, let's see what we can do for our general." Fedyor laughs and pulls Ivan towards the conservatory.
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You walk through the corridors of the Little Palace, led by one of the Oprichniks, to the general's chambers. You feel weird coming here. He was usually the one who always visited you. At different times of the day in the library.
Involuntarily, you remember one of his rare nighttime visits.
You were alone in the library. You sat curled up in an armchair by the fire with a blanket around you.
You liked spending evenings in the library. It was completely silent then; you could listen to the crackling of the burning wood and get completely lost in your book.
However, lately, your thoughts have been turning more and more often around a certain general of the Second Army. Hence the book that was on your lap. "The Lives of Saints."
You've read most of the books about Grishas. About how they use their powers. About their little science. They fascinated you. Like Kirigan. At first, you were afraid of the general. He was, after all, a Black General, a descendant of the Black Heretic. But there was something... defenceless about him. Humane. Not identifying with the terrible legend circulating about him. And that little element of the common human in him drew you to this mysterious man.
You smirk to yourself as you hear the quiet footsteps you've learned to recognise as he lets you hear that he's close. You remember quite vividly how you shouted at him when he snuck up on you and almost dropped the stack of books you were holding. You don't know who was more surprised then—you or him.
"A little late for a night visit." you say, closing your book and shifting your gaze to the man walking towards you.
The smile disappears from your face when you see that he has dark bags under his eyes and is much paler than usual.
"Do I look that bad?" he asks with a laugh at your reaction. The blush on his cheeks and his less confident step make it clear that he didn't take your behaviour as carelessly as he showed.
"You look like death. What happened?" you ask, worried as he sits down in the armchair across from you.
"Tough week. I will be good. I had to come here. I... I haven't looked here for a while."
Little did you know that he wanted to say that he hadn't come for you. That he didn't come to check on you even though he wanted to, but he just didn't have time. That he had been watching you at every opportunity, hiding in the shadows. He was stopping at the library to simply look at you each time the king called him to confer with him about a possible war with the Fjerdans, which thankfully he had managed to avoid.
Now that the vision of Grishas' blood being spilled was no longer hanging over his head, he had come here—to the only shelter he had in this forgotten by the saints country on even a world.
He came to you.
"I noticed." you say and give him such a beautiful, comforting smile that this week of fighting against the king and the general of the First Army is worth the price of his nerves, sleepless nights, and the effort he put into avoiding war. This smile is a sufficient reward for all his efforts to maintain peace and security.
For Grishas, his mind screamed; he did it for his people.
For you, whispered a small voice in his head, coming from the remains of his shattered over the centuries heart. He did this to keep you safe—the only piece of his humanity he allowed himself to have. The only ramains of a man he used to be.
"You did?" he asks, swallowing. He watches you carefully, assessing your every little move and reaction.
He doesn't trust you yet... but he feels that he is getting closer to completely losing himself in your presence, which is soothing his battered soul like anything else in this world, and the warmth that radiates from you. If he didn't know you, he would think you were Inferni.
"Mhm..." you nod and start telling him about a book you read recently that he might have liked.
And he really wants to listen to you. Your voice soothed his frayed nerves and calmed the anxiety he had felt over the past few days, but as soon as he allows himself, as his head rests against the armchair, he begins to feel tired as well. And your wonderful voice, the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace, and the familiar smell of your perfume mixed with the smell of books lull him to sleep better than any lullaby.
You smiled, watching him relax in the chair and slowly fall asleep. You quietly got up from your seat and walked over to the fireplace to add a log to the fire. You took the blanket you covered yourself with and walked over to Kirigan.
Just as you were about to cover him, a strong pair of arms swept you off your feet, leaving you in the general's lap while he snuggled into you.
“So warm…” you blush when you hear his half-asleep whisper, but you don't question his actions.
You cover the two of you with a blanket, and after he settles his head comfortably on your shoulder, with his nose gently nuzzling your neck, you can't help but run a hand through his hair. And you almost moan at how soft they are. If you could, you would stroke him at every chance you got. But now you just leave a light kiss on his temple, trying to fight the hope rising in your chest, which tells you that maybe your feelings aren't so hopeless and unreciprocable after all.
Because what other reason could there be for this man, who was completely out of your league and who is currently clinging to you like it's the most normal thing in the world, than that he has feelings for you?
As if this strong, powerful man needed a shelter and could find it only in your arms...
You never talked about that night, nor did it ever happen again, but it was one of your favourite memories with him.
Surprisingly, he always hits your shifts. And you wanted to believe that it wasn't a coincidence that you two met so often.
And that milaya... he didn't call every woman a sweet girl, did he? No. There had to be at least a hint of attraction in him for you. And you were so desperate for him that you would take any scrap of affection he gave you—any chance to see how it would really be to be loved by him. Even if this closeness was to last only for one night.
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He was nervous.
The hundreds-year-old shadow summoner was nervous. And not with the upcoming fight, battle, and important meeting with the king, in which he had to use all his manipulation techniques and lies.
He was nervous before meeting with you.
Baghra would laugh at him and beat him for being distracted by mortals. For letting his stupid heart take control again and naively allowing himself to feel something for a woman who would pass so quickly that he wouldn't have time to blink.
But does that stop him? Of course not. He always takes a losing cause and always makes bad choices.
But how could he not, when you were the only light that had appeared in a very long time that he spent utterly alone in the darkness of his war room, still planning and still thinking about how to provide all Grishas with a safe future in which they wouldn't worry about their lives anymore? How could he just ignore you when you were lightening brighter than the sun summoner herself?
A gentle knock on the door sent a shiver of both excitement and fear through him.
You were already here.
"Come in." he says, trembling with anticipation as he waits for you to enter his chambers for the first time.
However, his face grew grumpy when, instead of your silhouette in some beautiful (preferably black) dress, he saw Fedyor enter his chambers.
"What are you doing here? And what is that all for?" he asks, confused, as Fedyor places a vase with a bouquet of your favourite flowers on his war table, a basket with wine and delicacies you like, and goes to light more candles in the room.
"Things that will come in handy. Good night, General."
Fedyor leaves before he can react. He stares at the room for a moment and laughs to himself, shaking his head. You were going to be his undoing. People will see how... soft he is getting because of you. But somehow it doesn't bother him, at least as long as the prospect of holding you in his arms was within his reach thanks to it. He would put up with Fedyor's banter and whispered gossip within the ranks of the Second Army if it meant having you by his side.
The soft creak of his door draws his attention. His gaze is fully focused on the entrance, his breath catching in his throat as he waits to be blessed with the sight of you. Maybe he could afford this one weakness? To allow himself a moment of blissful peace in the constant, lonely war that he waged for the safety of every Grisha.
The curse almost leaves his mouth when someone else appears instead of you. This time, Alina. In a nightgown, loose hair, and an uncertain expression on her face. And although he really needed her in his plans, he couldn't help but damn her for her timing. It looked like he didn't deserve time free from his duties.
"Alina? How can I help you?" he asks instead, glancing briefly at the clock and wondering how politely and quickly he can dismiss her so that you won't see her leaving on your way to his chambers.
Ironically, what Alina would think about his encounter with you at night didn't matter to him at all. But it should be the other way around. After all, he was going to seduce her and use her power for his plans.
You weren't supposed to mean that much to him.
And yet he was there, standing in front of the Sun Summoner he had dreamed to find for so long, but now he was only wondering how to get rid of her.
"Am I... disturbing you?"
As always, he thought, but quickly shook his head.
"Not at all. What's the matter?" he asks in a polite tone, trying not to get irritated by the way she looks around his chambers. Her cheeks blush slightly, and her eyes glow in the candlelight.
He wonders how you will react to the scenery Fedyor has created. Maybe he should light more candles? Or dust off his old record player and put a record of slow, classical music in it. He knew it would help him. Many times, he caught you dancing alone in the abandoned alley of the library. There were many times when he joined you so that you wouldn't have to dance with the air... although the main reason that encouraged him was the opportunity to hold you in his arms.
He doesn't pay attention to what Alina is saying to him. He only catches the way she says his name, and he can't help but let his thoughts fly to you again.
Considering how often he was in this library, he should have known by now where to look for the books he wanted. However, he was glad that none of the librarians commented on it, and they immediately showed him where he could find you.
However, the reputation of a cruel Grishas' general had its benefits. No one dared to question him.
As he walks through the library, he smiles and thinks about you. How you weren't afraid to put him in his place when you didn't like something.
At first you were just a means to an end, then a pretty thing to look at, then over time you became a challenge, and now... he couldn't go a day without seeing your face or hearing your voice.
He swallowed and shook his head. NO. He didn't fall that low. Not for an ordinary woman, a mortal.
A mocking voice in his head that closely resembles Baghra's words mocks him as he tries to deceive himself. How weak he is.
And he would probably have turned back and tried to save his naive heart if he hadn't heard a familiar, slow song playing from the gramophone.
He froze, watching you dance to the piano sounds coming from the record player, and put the books back on the shelves, rearranging them in order. The skirt moved with your movements, and he wanted nothing more than to place his hands on your waist and pull you as close to him as possible, letting his hands trace your curves as he stared into your eyes.
So he did. Allowing himself to do what he wanted and forgetting for a moment what he should have done.
He walks over to you quietly and places his hands on your waist, turning you towards him and lowering you, keeping his hand on your back in reassurance that he won't let go of you.
"Kirigan!" you scream at him, scared by his sudden action.
You cling to him, and he might have laughed at your adorable reaction if the fake name he gave himself didn't feel like a slap in the face when you said it. And then, as you stare at each other without saying a word, he realises that he wants the only name that leaves your wonderful, tempting lips to be his real one.
"Please... call me Aleksander." he whispers, and somehow this was something more intimate and meaningful than all the flowers and furtive glances you had received for him. Than all the talks you have had. Than all the kisses on the hand, cheek, and hugs you had exchanged.
"Aleksander." you say back, whispering it, like it was something sacred.
His heart sinks further. It does a flip when he hears how gently you say his real name, the name he kept away from the world and close to his heart, only for himself.
He makes himself vulnerable to you.
And instead of freaking out, all he can do is look at you as if you were his only anchor, keeping him sane in his crazy life full of worries, fear, and anxiety. Your eyes shine up at him, reminding him of the stars—the stars that for a long time have guided him in his darkness and made him blind to everything else around him but you.
He was cursed. There was no turning back. He knew it the moment he heard his real name on your lips. And if it weren't for the damn pile of books falling with a loud bang, causing him to go into defence mode and hide you behind him, he would have kissed you right there and then.
He remembers perfectly that day. And he cursed every moment you decided not to use it. As if he cared who might hear it. As long as it came out of your alluring lips, he didn't care who heard it. He knew it would be the end of him to hear you scream it loud in the darkness of his chambers.
He doesn't notice when Alina approaches him. Or when she places her hand on his. At least not until a ball of light appears around them. He looks fascinated by Alina's possibilities and her power.
Alina leans towards him. His gaze shifts to her. He wonders if he should let her kiss him. But then the image of you comes to his mind, and he knows he has no choice but to push her away. He can't do this. Not when he knows he could be kissing you; taste your lips on his instead of hers. And the realisation makes him even more aware of how hopelessly he has fallen for you. To reject the Sun Summoner herself.
And that's when he notices you standing in the doorway.
"Y/N? Y/N, wait!" he pushes Alina's hand away and shouts after you as you walk away, closing the door.
He leaves a confused Alina speechless as he runs after you. When he's in the hallway, he sees no sign of you. He curses, realising what an uncomfortable situation you found him in with the sun summoner.
This will be difficult for him to explain. But damn him if he doesn't try his best.
"Don't." he stops his oprichniki from chasing you. You needed a moment for yourself. He knows that chasing after you would only make things worse... even if that was all he wanted to do right now. "Just make sure she will come back safetly to her chamber. If something happens to her, you will suffer the consequences. Understood?"
"Yes, general."
"That's all." they bow to him and leave. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.
"Aleksander?" Alina's hand is on his shoulder as she turns him to face her.
And maybe, if they had met a few years earlier—before he met you—he would have allowed himself to take the opportunity to get the sun summoner for himself. But now... all he wants is you.
"You should go back to your chamber." he says coldly, returning to his room.
Only to take his black kefta. Just because he couldn't talk to you doesn't mean he couldn't watch you to make sure you were okay. Maybe, thanks to you, he will figure out how to explain all this to you.
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You were stupid. And naive.
You think angrily as you clean the library floor with a broom. If anyone noticed that you started cleaning again as a way to release your negative emotions, they did not comment on it. And good. You were a ticking bomb today.
Honestly, you could have seen it coming. Him and the Sun Summoner. They were perfect for each other. In every book, they would end up together, and you would just be a supporting character.
The less important one.
It's good that you realised this before you let yourself do with him something stupid, before you got to know how his lips tasted, how it was to lay with his arms around you... Although... you guess he got under your skin and into your everyday life too deeply for you to simply forget about him.
Especially when he wouldn't leave you alone.
"You can't avoid me." he says, walking out of the alley. You almost run into him with a broom and for a moment, you feel the urge to hit him with it. But then you remember that you didn't actually promise each other anything. You were nothing to him. Only a librarian. An ordinary person. At best, a friend.
"I'm not." you say it coldly and try to move past him.
"You are." he says, blocking your way. You lift your head to look at him defiantly. All he does is grab your hands and take the broom out of your hands. You suddenly feel vulnerable… as if the broom could somehow protect you from the shadow summoner and your feelings for him. "Please. I just want to talk."
"How can I help you, general?" you ask him in an emotionless tone.
He sighs, but you can see from the look in his eyes that he won't give up that easily. But you also don't want to get involved in something that is doomed to failure. Men like them didn't end up with women like you. Not with someone so… ordinary.
"That's not how it looked like."
"No? You seemed… quite enjoyed your closeness to her. Besides, it is not my business. You can do whatever you want. With whoever… If you don't need my help finding a book, then I should go now."
"No, wait. Please." he grabs your arm and takes a step towards you, refusing to let you just walk away from him.
"Do you call her milaya too?" you can't help but ask him this question in a tone full of resentment, anger, and bitterness.
His reaction surprises you. Instead of responding to your ridiculous jealousy with anger or a comment as cruel as yours, he… smiles. The bastard has the nerve to enjoy how bad you feel.
"Nevermind. Just…forget about it." you say, trying to break free from his grip, but he won't let you go—not even a step away.
After a moment, you feel him pressing you against the bookshelves. His nose brushes lightly against yours, and your lips are closer together than ever. He breathes heavily, his dark, almost black eyes staring into yours as he tries to stop himself from simply kissing every thought that isn't him out of you. You look at him, waiting; you don't know what. Every inner moral battle in him is settled by your quiet whisper:
"Aleksander?"
He's losing it. All the control he had gained over hundreds of years. He leans down and connects your lips in a long-awaited kiss. At first, he tries to be slow and gentle. He caresses your cheek affectionately and carefully places his hand on your waist.
Your moan changes all his plans.
He grips your waist tighter, bringing you as close to him as possible. He tangles his other hand in your hair, deepening the kiss and taking in all your whimpers. And Aleksander, for the first time in his long life, feels like he's in heaven.
By simply touching you. By simply kissing you.
He pushes away all his thoughts about breaking you and about defiling your sweet and pure person with his darkness. But he can't stop.
Not when you respond so eagerly to his kisses. Not when you pull him as close to you as possible by his hair and kefta. Not when he feels the same lust and desire for you that he has for you. Not when his wildest dreams are coming true.
He pulls away as he feels you slowly running out of air. He gives you just enough space to breathe but still stays as close to you as he can, resting his forehead against yours and pressing a kiss there. Both of his hands roam over your figure, and he curses at how delicate and otherworldly you feel under his fingertips. Like you always should have belonged right here, in his arms, in his hands.
The saints created you for him as his eternal trouble, as his baine of existence. To sweep him off his feet. To question any decisions he ever made. To prove to him that all his plans will be ruined and that his priorities don't matter when it comes to choosing between them and you.
"I… I want… I want it to be your business. I want you to care about me… just as I care about you too, moya milaya. My one and only." he whispers, pulling away from you enough that he can look into your eyes.
He strokes your cheek tenderly, deciding he doesn't want to spend another second missing you, your touch, and your presence. Holding himself back from kissing and chereshing you as you should be.
"And how can you possibly care about me? I'm… just me. Otkazat'sya. I can't summon the sun, shadows, or anything. I can't heal or manipulate hearts. I can't composite materials such as metal, glass, textiles, and chemicals. I'm not Grisha. I'm nothing special."
"Do you think I don't know it? Do you think that meant anything to my stupid heart the day I first saw you? That after our first conversation, I gave a damn about anything, but how is your laugh so hypnotic? How can I simply spend the day just looking at you or listening to your sweet voice, talking excitedly about every single book you've read? I know it makes no sense, but... isn't that what it looks like? How is it supposed to be? To fall for someone even knowing that you shouldn't? Even knowing that it's something doomed to fall from the beginning?"
"I suppose that's not how a love confession should look like, Aleksander." you laugh a little and hearing his name on your lips again gives him hope that he needs to fully open up.
"Maybe not. But we are not in the story. I speak from my heart, with my own words, because… nothing I ever knew can be compared to what I feel for you since the time we know each other. You attracted me at first, but… with time, I understand it isn't just some attraction. It is something deeper. More personal. You understand me like no one else has before, so don't stand there and pretend there is no special link between us, because this… this is everything that keeps me sane. With so many wars I have to fight, so many plans I have to put into action, and so many sacrifices I have to make… I shouldn't think about you… and yet it is everything I can do each time I leave your presence. You became a part of me… best part of me that I have ever had. And I know I will probably lose you in time, but… I can't imagine being without you. To go my day without speaking to you, seeing you, or laughing with you. And if you let me… I would like to keep you close for as long as I can. As long as you will have me."
He says all of this while looking at you with so much earnestness and passion that you have a hard time saying no to him or entering into his speech.
He sees your doubts. And he's so afraid of them that he decides to kiss you again, to try to bribe you, to make up your mind in his favour with the feeling of his lips on yours.
This time, you pull him in, placing your hands around his neck. He shivers as you play with the strands of his hair, and he knows that if he doesn't get you, the only ray of light in his grey existence, he has nothing to lose. Nothing will stop him from becoming a monster.
"I'm not so... open-hearted. Time taught me to keep my feelings to myself. But with... with you, I feel like the man I used to be. And I really like to be him again with you by my side."
"And... what about Alina?" you ask hesitantly, unable to get used to the idea that he might be… that he might choose you.
"You are the only one I can see." he whispers. He steals another kiss from you. This time, he presses you closer to him. You feel his muscular body under his kefta pressing against you, and you feel yourself slowly turning into putty in his hands. The bastard grins gladly as he feels you trembling.
"But for how long?" you try to hold on to one last rational thought before the warmth of the moment you share with him overwhelms you, and you become undeniably his. However, your internal struggle is just a matter of decency. You both know who won anyway.
"Eternity." he whispers against your lips before kissing you hungrily, losing control as he finally gives in to his desires, touching and caressing you as he wants with your more than willing consent. "Mine." he murmurs into your neck, pressing kisses there, his stubble teasing your sensitive skin as you moan at the feeling of his hot lips that you've imagined more than you care to admit.
"Mine." you respond, tangling your hands in his hair and pulling him in for another kiss.
Feeling his lips against you, his hands roaming over your body, caressing you, pulling you as close to him as possible, and his skin that you explore with your fingertips while unbuttoming his kefta as his shadows surround you, hiding the two of you from the sight of others who might be looking for you between the bookshelves, is making you realise that maybe, after all, you were the main character… at least in his story.
And that was all you could ever ask for.
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grandlinedreams · 8 months
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"Are you stalking me or something?"
You stand a few feet back from Zoro, taking in the swordsman's stance, the cross of his arms over his chest and look of mild irritation on his face.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because you've been following me," Zoro answers, trying not to let annoyance get the better of him. "I thought we all split up to explore on our own."
He has a point. Upon arriving at this island, it'd been settled to go explore at individual leisure, given that there seemed to be little to no Marine presence.
And you had taken your own route ㅡ and upon spotting the familiar head of green hair in the crowd, you'd opted to follow the swordsman at a distance. Partly of your own curiosity, and partly because he seems to share Luffy's innate knack for finding trouble, even when he doesn't mean to.
You raise an eyebrow, tone teasing. "Am I not allowed to accompany you? We're crewmates, aren't we?"
Zoro scowls. You're far better company than the damn cook, that's for sure ㅡ and he doesn't necessarily mind your presence. In fact, he'd go so far to admit (to himself and himself alone) that he enjoys being around you. "Do what you want," he finally huffs, "I'm going back to the ship anyways."
You blink. "You might want to rethink that," you call as he moves to walk away, and he stiffens before turning towards you.
"And why's that?"
"Because you're going the wrong way." You turn, pointing. "The Sunny is that way."
If there's a true flaw with Zoro, it's his absolute lack of directional sense. He never admits it, either ㅡ simply seems to embrace it and continue to do as he pleases, even to his detriment.
He stares at you for a long minute before he steps towards you. "Fine, lead the way, since you're so sure."
You ignore the grumpy verbal barb and reach, fingers closing around his hand. "So we don't get separated," you say before you begin leading him back in the direction you'd come from.
Part of Zoro wants to immediately balk at your touch, yank his hand back and insist that he isn't a child, he doesn't need you to hold his hand ㅡ but he doesn't.
He can't bring himself to pull away, taking in the confidence of your gait, your expression relaxed. And then, once out of town, you seem to remember that he isn't particularly fond of touch.
"Sorry," you say, moving to let go of his hand, and blinking when he doesn't let go, fingers curled around yours.
"It's fine," he grumbles, not quite looking at you ㅡ and if his cheeks are a little warmer, tinting a vague pink like the tips of his ears, you don't mention it.
All you do is smile and continue to hold his hand.
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writingseaslugs · 11 months
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Diasomnia: When You're Sick
The last dorm, and probably the one dorm you don’t want taking care of you…minus Silver. Hope you guys enjoyed this dorm series, I know I did. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to skedaddle back to work. Also the intro is the same for all parts, so if you’ve read it once, you’ve read it all.
Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please click the “Au Information” below!
Request Information | Masterlist | Au Information
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Diasomnia: When You’re Sick
The worst thing to ever happen to you while attending Night Raven College had to be, hands down, getting sick. You were alone in the dorm with only ghosts and Grim to keep you company, and as much as you loved them, they couldn’t take care of you when you became sick. This meant you had to make do and hope that everything was alright. Normally if you were under the weather, you’d just suck it up and go to class so as to not worry anyone. This time however, that wasn’t an option.
You woke up with every muscle in your body feeling sore and aching with even the slightest movement. Your stomach churned something fearsome and you had a runny nose and cough to boot. You had no idea what illness you had fallen to. Having so many symptoms…you could only assume it was the flu or something akin to that.
Still, there was no way you were making it to class like this. So begrudgingly you told Grim you weren’t feeling good and needed to rest, and to go to class and get your homework so you could do it later. The demon cat was grumpy about not having his henchman, but eventually gave in, leaving you alone to rest in your room and hope that whatever you had would go away.
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Malleus Draconia
Sebek will be the one mentioning you being sick in passing, noting how Grim had been out of control due to your absence. That’s all Malleus needs to hear before he’s sneaking away from his retainers and going over to your dorm. Thankfully you’re asleep when he appears in your room. He’s standing over your bed, looking over you and placing his large hand over your forehead, noting that it’s warmer than it should be. This prompts him to call up Lilia to inform him of the situation. That’s where the trouble begins.
Malleus has no clue how to care for a human, so it’s already off to a rocky start. Lilia himself knows a little bit, as he had to take care of Silver. The thing with Silver is, other than the narcolepsy, he was always a fairly healthy child…according to Lilia. Really he just always missed the signs that Silver was sick or though it was just a quirk. So now you have two fae over your bed, trying to figure out what’s wrong as you slowly wake up and meet their eyes. You might have a heart attack that devolves into a coughing fit as Malleus is frantically trying to help you.
You’re going to be the one needing to tell them they need to get you the school nurse, and no this is not the time to experiment with treatments. Malleus does so, just because you seemed really adamant, and it’s a good thing. The nurse is nervous with both Lilia and Malleus in the room, but eventually manages to figure out how to take care of you, and even noting that the stuff served in the cafeteria is best for your recovery. Once Lilia knows Malleus has it handled, he leaves. Malleus is doing everything the nurse says, with a little flourish of magic, to make you get better faster. He’s pretty good at reading you as well, so if you move slightly he’s already fluffing your pillow to make it more comfortable, and asking if you’d like more water. He can be very doting normally, and it only increases once you’re sick.
Malleus is going to be relieved, but also not trusting that you’re totally better. Be expecting him to take care of you for a solid week after you’re better, visiting you after classes and bringing you meals, as well as checking your temperature the entire time. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your word, he just doesn’t trust the nurse having the best treatment plan. If he could have it his way, he would’ve brought you to Briar Valley to have one of the doctors there check you over.
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Lilia Vanrouge
Lilia had just decided on a whim to visit your dorm the previous night, wanting to see what you were up to. When he found you curled up in bed shaking, clearly still asleep and unaware of your current condition, he decided to just stick around until the morning. After Grim leaves for school, he makes his grand appearance and is asking you what’s wrong. He’s not as concerned as he should be, since he’s seen Silver like this many times and his son has always made a full recovery. Still, he is a little upset to see you in such a state.
He’s not the best, at all, but he kind of knows what to do. He’s taken care of Silver while he’s sick so he assumes he knows what he’s doing…he doesn’t. If you had a fae illness, he'd be perfect. He could treat that almost as well as a normal doctor. A human illness though…well he’s less experienced in that. Still, he’s going to try and do his best before calling the nurse to get whatever medications he needs to hand you. At least he’s willing to call in help once he figures out he doesn’t know how to make you better.
He’s pretty attentive, if not a little teasing while he takes care of you. Again, he knows you’re not dying so he can have a little fun with it. He will try to put some medicine on a spoon and pretend to be a bird as he brings it to your mouth. Show him the most unimpressed look and he’ll break out into a fit of giggles. Just make sure when it comes to meal times, you request being brought something from the cafeteria, letting Lilia know that his seasonings would be too much on your stomach right now. He agrees and brings you proper food, even if he really wants to add something to it.
He’s going to be over the moon when you’re all better, telling you how happy he is and asking if you want to do something fun now. There’s no resting time after being sick, he’s been so good the past few days waiting for you to be better, that now you need to go and do something with him. He’ll be happy if you agree to sit with him in his dorm room and play a few rounds of a video game though. He’s just happy to have you back honestly.
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Silver
He’s another one who finds out through Sebek. He’s half asleep when Sebek begins shouting about how you’re missing and Grim is causing havoc and how he won’t stand for it. Silver only hears you’re missing and after asking he finds out you’re sick. He knows just how bad it can be, being sick with nobody to take care of you. Most of the time Lilia didn’t even realize Silver was sick growing up, so he was on his own. This is going to prompt him to go ahead and check in with you.
Silver is actually pretty good at figuring out what to do while you’re sick. Since he normally took care of himself growing up (even if half the time it was sleeping it off) he at least knew the basics. When he noticed you had  a fever he was looking for things to help with it, alongside something for your cough and stomach. In no time he had all the things he needed to take care of you, and was able to do it without much of an issue. Good news for you, he is very quiet while he speaks to you, so you don’t need to worry about his presence causing you more of a headache.
He’s not perfect at it, but he tries to keep a good schedule up to make sure you’ll be okay. He can cook you something to eat as well, that tastes pretty okay so he doesn’t need to worry about running to the cafeteria before it closes. For the most part though, you both are asleep. In fact, sometimes you need to nudge him awake to grab your medicine, which he will sleepily do and mumble something about being sorry about falling asleep like that.
He’s relieved to know you’re all better and that he managed to help you, but he’s exhausted afterwards. Let him crash at your place and possibly also check in on him to make sure he didn’t catch whatever you had going on. Once he’s awake he’ll just smile and say he’s grateful you’re feeling better, but he needs to get going since you’re both behind on school work. He doesn’t need anything in return for helping you, but if he ever does get sick it wouldn’t hurt to help him out. He was good to you, so returning that favor is needed…especially since Lilia might not even notice Silver is sick…again.
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Sebek Zigvolt
He’s going to notice right away once he sees Grim by himself, doing whatever he wants. He’s going to say the only reason he’s going to check in on you is because the sooner you’re better, the sooner you can control Grim. After all, Grim being crazy can disturb Malleus and cause distractions, and he would be a horrible retainer if he allowed that to happen. Nobody but Lilia and Silver would comment about how he was more fidgety the moment he found out, and how he bit down on his bottom lip, gnawing it with worry for you.
Sadly he’s another one who’s totally hopeless when it comes to taking care of someone else. More or less…it’s a bit disastrous. He’s too loud and causes headaches by accident, and he hasn’t the faintest idea on human illnesses despite being half human himself. Normally when he got sick, nobody knew if it was a fae or human illness, so he was treated for both. Which doesn’t bode well for you since he’s going to use that to try and treat you initially.
Once he realizes his efforts aren’t making you better, he’s going to call Silver to help out. He doesn't want to bother Lilia for something like this, and Silver is the only human he likes other than you. Thankfully Silver explains what to do and Sebek will do so, but stumbles a bit. At least you’ll slowly be getting better, and he’s not an idiot and will make sure you’re eating good food. He’s determined to make you better, and eventually he forgets all about the horrible excuse he told others, letting his worry take over for you. After letting him know his voice is a bit too loud, he’s going to quiet down for you. 
He’s relieved to know you’re better and for a while he’s significantly less tense, and everyone notices. Lilia is going to be teasing him about it, making poor Sebek go bright red since he’s been outed for caring about a lowly human. When you thank him, he’ll go back to the lie he told everyone else about wanting Grim to be properly handled, but the red on his cheeks is persistent enough to let you know that it’s a horribly fabricated lie…though you would’ve been able to tell either way.
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sunshine-theseus · 6 months
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Inside and Out | Aitana Bonmati x Reader
Words: 1.7k Summary: you weren't a cheerful or outgoing person but Aitana has plans to change that. - I'm back! sorry for delays Warnings: apologies, once again probably poor Spanish. request for - @realsociadadferminofan
People were often afraid of me upon first glance. You come to expect it when you’re covered in tattoos and rather buff, my resting face rather unhappy. It doesn’t mean it hurt any less when I try to talk to someone, and they went running for the hills. So I became the person everyone expected me to be; grumpy and lonely.
Until her.
Aitana was the epitome of sunshine. Smiling and full of life, welcoming people wherever she went. That’s exactly how she greeted me on my first day as Barcelona’s fitness coach. No one else bothered to approach me until Jonatan introduced us but as soon as Aitana saw me, she had her hand out for me to shake and asking how I’m doing, smiling brightly up at me.
I tried to keep up the ‘dark and broody’ demeaner for as long as I could around her, but she made it so hard. Every day before training she’d come in with that same smile, like sun beaming through the clouds, and would start up a conversation. In the beginning I replied with brief answers to get her to leave as soon as possible. Once I realised she wasn’t giving up anytime soon, I warmed up to it. Even going as far as looking forward to the daily meeting.
“Bon día!” She comes bounding into the gym, at exactly 9am as usual (after she learnt I love routine).
Other people mill around us, but we don’t notice as we begin to talk, occasionally attracting their eyes when we laugh too loud.
“Joder! Voy a llegar tarde al entrenamiento.” I’m left to smile affectionately as the Catalan makes a run for the locker room to get ready. (fuck! I’m going to be late to training).
I quickly make the decision I need to ask her out, fawning over her from a distance was not working out like I’d hoped. Completely ditching the gym plan I was scheming; I begin to make a list of things I know she likes. Instantly removing football off the list, I eventually land on a picnic at a lookout. The sunsets have been spilling pockets of warmer colours and casting a golden glow upon the city, I want to see that with her.
When the time for Barcelona Femení to walk through the gym doors comes, I grow nervous. Making a plan was all well and good but executing it was much harder than it seemed.
Making sure everyone has enough water and had a good lunch, it’s hard to keep my eyes off Aitana. Her sleeves are rolled up after spending time in the sun and her shorts are similarly so. The muscles that are normally so softly defined, prominently flexing as she makes her way over to some weights and begins lifting.
“If you keep staring she’s going to think you’re insane.” Claudia whispers in my ear as I help her fix her stance.
“Shut up, I’m not staring. Just… making sure she’s doing the right thing.” The younger girl chuckles and continues her reps while I try desperately to distract myself.
It continued to prove harder than expected. Every bicep curl, lunge, bicycle rep, my eyes drifted to her. The way beads of sweat dripped down her face and over the divots and hills of muscle that never seemed to stop flexing. The way her head tilted back as she chugged water. The laugh that echoed through the gym when Keira tried to speak Spanish or told an English joke she didn’t quite understand but found funny none the less.
The last of which did spark a jealousy deep in the pit of my stomach that I had to push down as I helped the other girls. Eventually I had to excuse myself to “take a call”, rushing to my car to bang my head against the wheel to try and knock some sense back into myself.
Jona, coming back from his late lunch with his wife and kid, knocks on my window in concern. I jump in surprise as he questions me.
“Estás bien? Qué ocurre?” the muffled voice is comforting none the less. (are you okay? What’s wrong?)
“Estoy enamorado pero tengo miedo de decir cualquier cosa. Y no puedo pensar en nada más” I groan and slump back in my driver’s seat. (I’m in love but I’m afraid to say anything. And I can’t think of anything else)
“Ahhh Aitana.” A smile spreads across his face and I flush red.
“How do you know?”
“She broke your dark and broody appearance. Only someone in love would allow their disguise to stripped away.”
“Well what about her? How does she feel?”
“Hard to tell. She’s always such a kind soul. But she’s never been so adamant in getting close to someone, so the chances are high. She risks being late every day to talk to you.”
“Qué? She shouldn’t do that.”
“But she’ll continue to.” The coach leaves with a smile and a skip in his step as he goes to overlook the team I’m currently supposed to be training.
I wipe the sweat off my palms, check my forehead in the rearview mirror to make sure there isn’t a mark from the wheel, and make my way back inside. I take to my usual spot in the corner, arms crossed, displaying the muscles that tend to scare away most, and yell orders across the room. If Aitana was risking her work for me, I’d simply stop allowing it. No more lingering conversations, no more daily meetings at 9am. No more anything. Back to my old self, for her.
That plan didn’t last long.
~~~~~
“Bon día!” the Catalan makes her usual cheerful entrance at exactly 9am, but I don’t even look up at her as I reply with a simple “morning.”
“Estás bien?”
“Mmhm.” I can picture the frown that adorns her face. Eyebrows pinched together and the corners of her mouth downturned, an expression that should never appear on such a ray of sunshine.
“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” Aitana pulls out the chair parallel from me and sits.
“I’m busy, you’ll be late.” There’s a pregnant pause and I can almost hear the cogs turning in her head. I hadn’t been this blunt toward her since we first met.
“I always make it to training on time, even when our conversations last longer than normal. You haven’t had a problem with it before.” It’s hard to fight her when she’s right.
“But I will be late today if you don’t talk to me. In fact I’ll miss all of training, sitting in this chair, waiting for you. I’ll always wait for you mi quiera.” I pause and let out a sigh, leaning back in my chair and finally looking into the chocolate brown eyes in front of me.
“There’s this girl… she’s so amazing and kind and she made me lower my guard when no one else could. She didn’t stop until I crumbed. She’s always there for me. I really like her Ai, but I don’t know if she likes me back.” Another silence follows but I watch as the stoic expression blooms into a toothy grin.
“Sí, she likes you very much.”
“Would she like to go on a date with me?”
“Sí.”
Despite the simplicity of the conversation in comparison to how I’d originally planned it, I feel myself grow giddy, a word I do not use lightly for myself.
“I’ll pick you up at 5pm? Nothing too fancy.” Aitana nods and bids me goodbye, heading to training as I try and fail to focus on today’s session plan once again.
-
As promised, I pull up to Aitana’s small apartment building at exactly 5pm, finding her waiting out front. A peach linen singlet and white denim shorts adorn her body, black sandals comfortably on her feet.
“Hola! You look cute.” She’s confident in her statement as she slips into my passenger seat.
“Thank you. You look beautiful, as always.” I barely catch the dusting of blush that brightens her cheeks momentarily.
“Where are we going mi quiera?”
“It’s a surprise.” I lean my arm on the centre consol, simply a comfort measure, but Aitana slips her arm beside it and fixes her hand in mine.
“Everything is a surprise with you.” I simply hum in content and continue the drive.
I try to distract her any time we approach a sign with the name on it, pointing out things that weren’t there or cracking jokes only she would laugh at now she understands my humour.
“Mirador Sirriá?! This is like the best lookout in Barcelona! I’ve heard the sunsets are so pretty from here, but I’ve never seen with my own eyes.” She rambles as I find a spot to park. It’s relatively deserted for how popular it is, but I can’t complain.
“The best sunset for the best girl.” I tease as I hop around to her side to open the door.
“That was cheesy.” Aitana giggles as she follows me to the boot, grabbing the picnic blanket and basket of snacks for us to enjoy.
“A picnic? Aye you have a way to my heart.” She helps me lay down the blanket and takes a seat.
“No tenía ya una camina hacia tu corazón?” I let out a fake gasp as I set the food down in front of us. (I didn’t already have a way to your heart?)
We begin to eat and talk, laughing until our bellies ache as the sun sets behind the Barcelona skyline. The air starts to feel fresh and the orange hue that casts down on us makes Aitana seem ethereal.
“Hermosa.” I whisper and she turns her head. Her eyes seem to glow in the light.
I tuck a hair that flies into her face behind her ear and cup her cheek.
“You’re so beautiful, inside and out. I would still be an angsty, cruel, unhappy fitness instructor you all hated if you didn’t force me out of my shell. Thank you.” I barely finish my sentence before her lips are on mine. It’s a feverish kiss but still full of love and adoration.
My other hand grabs her waist as both hers fist my shirt. We don’t stop until air is no longer travelling to our lungs.
“I couldn’t let the grumpy, unhappy trainer stay that way. You’re too beautiful not to feel loved, inside and out.” I bump my nose against Aitana’s and smile one of the biggest smiles I ever have.
“Te amo.”
“Te amo.”
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eternallyseverus · 11 months
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!YOUNG Severus Snape x y/n | Drunk People do not lie
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COFFEE | On AO3 here - 1595 words
Summary: Severus and you became best friends and feelings start to develop but none of you dares to say anything, not sure about your own feelings but everything is cleared out once the two of you end drunk in a Slytherin party.
A/N: I am not a native English speaker so I am sorry for any spelling mistake and if my first smut scene is too bad :D. I tried my best! Also I am not 100% happy with this one. It is intended to be a two chapters story but I am not sure if you guys will like it. :] Maybe the beginning is a bit slow because I ALWAYS HAVE THE NEED TO GIVE A CONTEXT AND A DEVELOPMENT.
Triggers/Warnings: Y/N is a she probably using female pronouns. Both are of age. Mentions of bully. Alcohol involved and hint of sex / intimacy. I think I am not forgetting anything else. :] ---------------------------------------------------- Severus and you have been inseparable since at the beginning of the seventh year he was paired with you in a potion project but it was hard, extremely hard for you to get closer to him and to be able to call each other best friends.
It was obvious why he was reluctant to let you in. People would mock him, bully him and life taught him nothing but to be defensive towards everyone and every moment in his life so the moment you started to show him kindness (since the very first minute you were paired with him for that project) he taught that it was because you needed to get a good grade so it was convenient for you to treat him like that.
But it wasn’t like that.
You heard a couple of rumors about him which you dismissed because luckily you grew up with the mindset of judging the people yourself with their actions not with the words other random people had about them.
You only found him a bit cold and grumpy but you thought that it was something normal because people are different so it might not be in his nature to be a warm person. But you were wrong about that.
The day you found him being teased in the Great Hall by the marauders, the way others laughed and didn’t do anything made your blood boil and you quickly got in the middle of their actions, threatening the entire group and not hesitating to take out your wand to duel them if needed. All of those weeks made you grow fond of Severus, of how intelligent, quiet, respectful he was. How hardworking as well and every time he looked at you, you were starting to see a hint of his kindness and some softness that was covered by layers of… something that you couldn’t quite decipher until that precise moment.
During that night the two of you went to the Astronomy Tower and he thanked you for your kindness and he broke in front of you, crying in your arms and telling you everything that he has been going through.
And you listened without interrupting him, only offering your warmth, your gentle strokes to his long hair and your shoulder so he could cry on.
Severus knew that you perhaps were different, not judging him and not treating him differently after talking about his life, about his pain, about his trauma.
Through the following weeks the cold and short answers became longer and warmer ones, gaze exchanged through the library and you dropped your circle of friends to spend more time with him.
He became even more gentle in everything: with his words, with his actions and with his small touches in your arms and hands whenever the two of you talked, worked or studied together.
It was due to that that you started to feel uneasy because Severus started to be, sometimes, unexpected with his words towards you.
“You look pretty today” or some “I just saw this flower and it reminded me of you when you smile” or even a daily “I missed you” every time the two of you met.
You reciprocated his words each time with a timid blush in your cheeks that (you didn’t know) he extremely loved and you started to feel some tingling around your body.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------
Before Christmas Holidays arrived the Slytherin House decided to do an illegal party in a hidden part of the castle to celebrate the end of the year so obviously you had to go.
You begged him and with pouty lips and some kind words Severus had accepted to go with you knowing that no one would dare to say something to him if you were around.
So there you were with him. Surrounded by sweaty and drunk colleagues, alcohol floating around and loud music.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Stop telling me these things” you said breathlessly, the loud music making it hard for Severus to understand you.
“Tell you what?!” he said a little bit too loud due to the extra cups of butterbeer, firewhiskey and wine plus the loud music was making it difficult to understand you.
“Stop telling me these things Sev” you said again sounding a little bit annoyed. Severus didn’t hear your tone but he completely knew when you would be annoyed due to the change in your body expression.
His hand went to cup your cheek and your body temperature rose way too fast for your liking. Severus was almost in auto pilot, his desires and feelings conducting his actions and all was thanks to the alcohol.
“Telling you what? That I enjoy being around you? That you look pretty today?” he repeated some of the things he has been telling you tonight and you just nodded slowly.
“Yes, all of that Sev” you confirmed to him, getting closer and both bodies extremely closer. It was needed so your mouth could go closer to his ear so he could hear you better.
“And why would I need to stop?” He replied back to you, his mouth also closer to your ear.
You didn’t realize but he had wrapped his left arm around your hip so both of you could be positioned better but the truth was that he desired for your warmth.
“Because you make me feel things, Sev” you replied a little bit too honestly, praying that you would not make him feel uncomfortable.
Severus blinked twice and looked at you and he placed his glass of firewhiskey on a table that was on his right side.
“What… things?” he ventured to ask. 
You gulped and started to speak again, slowly, trying to carefully pick your words and your hot breath tickling his neck and earlobe making him lose the left control he had in himself.
“You make me feel things, Sev. When you talk to me like this, When you hold my hand. When you look at me. I feel butterflies inside of me” you pointed at your stomach feeling silly “And make me yearn for your touch, and look good only for you” He was looking at your lips hearing everything you had to tell him. He only was able to say the last sentence
“Good only for me” 
“Yes, for you” you replied back, your mouth moving slowly towards him.
“And… only me” he moved his mouth as well, this time his lips brushing softly against yours. “What you are feeling, y/n, is love” he ventured to say in a bold move. Once again, thanks to the alcohol.
“Do you think so?” you replied back mimicking the soft brushes of his lips. 
“I do, because I do feel the same” and after that sentence he closed the gap and he gave you a clumsy kiss. Thin lips warm that tasted like a weird mix of alcohol but that made you have your eyes widened processing his confession and his kiss.
The music was loud and your heart was pounding, your thoughts racing trying to understand that he had the same symptoms as you do: love, desire, yearning to be touched.
Your hands wrapped around his waist and you kissed him feverishly, biting from time to time his bottom lip earning a soft moan from him.
People were glancing at the two of you, Severus kissing a girl and you kissing him. No one said anything, but it was obvious what they were thinking.
Your hand moved from his waist to unbutton his shirt and he grabbed your hand softly to stop you and then he shook his head.
“Not here, not now” he said breathlessly and pressed his forehead against you.
Your shoulders slumped thinking that maybe, just maybe, your advances were making him uncomfortable and that he didn’t like you more than to share some kisses.
“O okay Sev, I am s sorry” you stuttered, feeling shy. Maybe he was right, it was in the middle of a party but the two of you could move to the bathroom or an empty chamber?
“I am not rejecting you. I said not now and now here” he said a bit shyly and he intertwined his fingers with yours.
“You don’t deserve your first time with a drunk man, in a nasty bathroom or bedroom. You deserve it in a nice place where I can give you time and the sober kisses you deserve”
Severus didn’t know that these words and feelings existed inside of him. And he never thought that he had a chance to share this time of actions with someone else and more with someone who really liked that much. 
But it was the truth.
He didn’t want to give her drunk kisses, quick encounters in a nasty place in the middle of parties. Not, at least, in her first time. Even if it was his first as well he only priority was her and only her.
You nodded slowly and gave him a smile. Severus stood silently looking at you and you stood looking at him.
“Wanna go on a date with me?!”
“Perhaps we can have a… date?!”
The two of you laughed after asking each other at the same time for a date. Even in your drunken state you found him the most handsome man in the entire world.
No need to confirm that indeed the two of you would be accepting each other’s date but you simply kissed him once again enjoying the rest of the night and a couple of butterbeers more that earned a huge hangover the following day.
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Text
Starving in The Dark
Okay another mini thing while I'm struggling to do the other responses rn, these ones I do while im laying down to go to bed lmao, but your requests will get done I promise!
Anyway! This is based on the thing I posted earlier today 😈 if you know you know.
Its very 18+ so minors DNI
WARNINGS!: NSFW, arthur literally devouring you, in general sexy things, chubby reader because I said so and theres not enough chubny reader and chubby arthur in this world
TAGS:@mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @kieropal @cantchoosejust1 @6kaja9
So lets get started!!!
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You feel as though you're gonna loose a finger to the cold around you, even being bigger and retaining heat better than smaller people would, you felt frozen to the core.
After the gang had left the Amberino mountains on your run from the law you didn't figure you'd be back up here so soon, but here you were, shivering and shaking on your horse, even in your heavy coat, as you and Arthur trek through the snow the further you got into the mountains.
Granted the snow that you traveled through now was no where near as bad as it had been the first time the gang had come through here, but it still seemed to sink right into your bones, you could only imagine how cold your horses were.
But you refused to complain. Arthur had told you he wanted to take you somewhere out of camp, far away, just the two of you, so you could finally spend sometime together without being harassed by the others or being pulled apart to do other jobs.
Granted you would have appreciated it if he'd taken you somewhere warmer, but you weren't about to start whining when he was trying to do something sweet and thoughtful for you. It wasn't often the two of you got to sneak away like this.
"We're almost there Darlin' I swear, then I'll get the fire goin' and that cabin'll warm up quick."
Arthur looks over his shoulder at you, his face reflecting a mixture of guilt and apology.
He'd clearly recogonized your freezing state.
"I'm okay!" You lie through your teeth offering a smile, you hate seeing the big guy look so sad. "Just cold!"
"I know, I shoulda just had you ride in the same horse with me, woulda been warmer for ya." He sighs and then nudges his horses sides. "C'mon, pick up the pace, let's get there."
The two of you ride for just a little longer, snowflakes sticking to your eyelashes the further you go, until eventually the two of you come over a hill to see a rather small cabin on what would be a beautiful lake, had it not been frozen over.
You're quick to hitch the horses in a nearby area where they're slightly sheltered, and make your way into the cabin.
It's a little run down, but upon looking at it you realize someone's clearly cleaned it up, and as you look back at Arthur you realize he really has been planning this for a while. The bed is made and the floor's been decently cleaned, a stack of wood decently high is sat against one of the walls and the cuboards are stocked with food.
Arthur moves and closes the door behind him the moment the two of you step over the threshold, he gently kisses the side of your head before beginning to start a fire up for you.
You can't help but watch him as he works, crossing your arms in an attempt to retain your heat.
Even in the cold he keeps his demenor, which around you is a little softer, kinder.
There's a small smile on his face as he does his work and the cold air has caused his cheeks to bloom red.
"You look so cute in the snow." You mumble, taking note of his denim clad jacket, the collar lined with fur. It covers his cheeks a little, but not enough to cover the fact that his face gets slightly redder at your compliment.
"Now, I don't even believe you when you call me handsome," he chuckles and continues to throw wood into the stove settled in the center of the small cabin. "What makes you think I'll believe you when you say that?"
"Who says I need you to believe it grumpy?"
He simply offers another small chuckle to you before he starts to attempt to light the fire. Luckily it doesn't take long.
The fire blazes and you find yourself crowding in the front of the stove as soon as Arthur shuts the front of it and opens the vents to allow heat into the room.
He stands behind you, his hands gently grasping your shoulders and his chin resting on rhe crown of your head.
"Sorry it was such a long ride Darlin' and a cold one too." He mumbles under his breath, letting out a long sigh that you feel reverberate through your body.
"It's okay Arthur, really." You smile this time, to yourself, he needed this break more than you did, you were just happy he wanted to take it with you. You'd follow him anywhere he wanted to go, and this included anywhere.
"Hmm." He gives the hum in response and then another sigh before he lets go of you to move towards the bed placed against the wall across frkm where you stand.
You watch as he plops down and begins to take his boots off and his coat soon follows.
He himself is a big man, and even he seemed a little cold, that redness of his face, and the small chatter in his teeth that occasionally appeared, it was no surpise you were so cold.
"I know it's cold," he mutters. "But you should get that heavier stuff off and get under the covers body heat'll be better for the two of us then these cold jackets."
You offer a nod, and then move to meet him, taking your coat off as you move.
It was gonna be a cold night.
.............
You wake up sweating, with the smallness of the cabin and the constant wood going into the stove to keep it that way, plus Arthur's body heat, you felt as though you were absolutely swimming.
The two of you together, both bigger bodies, the heat you both gave off, it was a wonder he wasn't sweating his ass off too.
It's completely dark in the cabin, other than a little bit of fire light from the stove.
You manage to get up out of the bed without waking Arthur, sliding out of his iron grip as quietly and as gently as possible.
You do the only thing you can think of to get to a comfortable temperature and strip out of your night clothes.
Tossing them to the side you feel much better, still warm, but without the extra cotton its a much more comfortable warmth.
You give a quiet sigh and clamber back into bed, getting back under Arthur's arm as quietly as possible.
"Y' good?" His words are slurred agains your neck as you settle back down, and after a moment his hand finds your waist and he seems to wake a little.
"The hell did your clothes go?"
"It's hot in here Arthur-" you hear the whine in your voice and feel awful for a moment, but you realize now laying back under the cover with arthur again that you'll most likely wake up covered in sweat once more.
Arthur's silent for a moment, but then you feel his hand travel over your stomach, going a little lower, reaching your thighs.
He's clearly not thinking about the words you just said.
"Arthur you are not listening-"
"Kinda stopped after I realized your tits were out if 'm honest." He sighs and you feel a hot kiss against your neck. "What I wouldn't give to feel these around my head...."
He squeezes your thigh gently, his fingers crawling towards your inner thigh.
"I'm already warm..." it's a feeble excuse, and you know it, yiu absolutely love it when he gets like this, so despite your discomfort you know that you're more than likely going to go along with him.
"Maybe if you got out from under these covers ...let those pretty tits of yours hit the air..."
"What the hell are you suggesting?"
"Mhmmm...." Arthur's voice comes out as a groan in your ear, and he places a small kiss there, right behind your ear.
"I'm sayin'," he mumbles. "I think you should sit on my face..."
"Arthur!"
You've never done such a thing. Of course you've had him between your legs before, and you'd never deny him that, as he got pleasure out of it just as you did, in fact it was one of his favorite things, but NEVER had you ever sat on his face.
"I'm too big." You mutter. "Too heavy, I sit on your face and I'll sufficate you-"
"Good, a fine way to die." He kisses your neck again.
"Arthur I'm serious!"
"I am too."
You sigh and he simply gets closer to your ear.
"Please Y/n...Please, I want you to do it so badly....please."
He's begging you. How could you tell him no.
"Okay..." You mumble the answer after a few moments of silence. "But you have to promise to stop me if you can't breathe, please?"
"Of course, you're My Girl."
You feel a heat in your cheeks and move, watching as he moves to lay on his back.
He keeps his hands to the sides, lazily awaiting you to sit on your throne.
He motions you towards him with his two middle fingers on each hand.
With just that you're compelled.
You manage to manuver yourself to the right place, and you begin to squat over his face, hovering if you will, and you feel Arthur's hands latch onto your thick thighs.
"I said sit." His voice comes out in a growl and then with a tight squeeze and a single rough pull on his end you find yourself completely sat on Arthur's face.
You can't move, he hold's you tightly against his face, buried in your pussy.
His hands massage your thighs, and you can feel his tongue moving in the best way you can think of.
It sends tingles through your body, the way he seems to nearly devour you, as though he'd never had a meal in his life.
His mouth is warm, and wet as he licks, and licks, and each flick of his tongue that seems expert you can't stop yourself from letting out lewd sounds that make you grateful he's taken you all the way into the mountains.
You reach between your thighs, gripping his hair tightly as he has his snack.
"Arthur...." You doubt he can even hear you from his position, but you hope that he gets the message when you begin to move your hips, riding his face.
His hands move from your thighs to your ass, and he helps guide each thrust of your hips.
You take a moment to look down, meeting his eyes between your thighs.
He's got a look there that you've seen many times, full and utter lust.
You can feel his nost brushing against sensitve areas of your heat, and his tongue still works away at you, lapping like a thirsty animal.
One of his hands moves from your ass, wrapping over your thigh and reaching between your legs, finding your clit easily, as it's nearly second nature for him.
Your breathing is ragged as he continues his assult of pleasure on you.
You know it isn't gonna take much longer for you to come undone, and your grip in his hair gets tighter, he can tell it won't be much longer.
The faster his tongue gets the faster his hand goes, he matches the circular motion just right with everything else until-
"Arthur!"
You feel yourself clench up and your thighs close instinctually against Arthur's head, and he continues to lick, doing his best to help ride out your orgasam.
When you're able to regain your composure he offers a few taps on your thigh and you manage to move off of him, catching the glint of your arousal on his face from the small firelight.
"Next time, when I say sit on my face I mean sit." He swallows and you watch as he licks his lips before placing his hands behind his head. "I want you to smother me."
You simply blink at him, your heart still racing from your high.
He'd just eaten you as though you were his last meal and that's all he could say.
You blink and then look towards his waist.
You had some giving to do.
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imrowanartist · 4 months
Text
Written with the prompt “We need to talk.”
Set in the Rosie AU
Tags: Established PriceGaz, trans pregnancy, just some fluff
-
After John leaves for his training shift at Credenhill, Kyle tries to lay in bed a while longer.
Tries being the operative word there, since he can already feel the urge to pee again; his little Bee making it known that she’s awake too. He places a hand on his bump and despite his morning grumpiness, he can’t resist a smile as he feels her usual movements.
Just ten more weeks before he’ll get to meet her for real, a thought that both excites and terrifies him.
With a slightly exaggerated groan, Kyle drags himself out of bed to get ready for the day. He promised Laswell he’d go over some intel and he has an appointment with his ob-gyn later in the afternoon too.
Researching intel for Kate is not his favorite job, but it makes him feel useful and he likes being able to contribute to the team, even if he can’t be in the field anymore.
The morning passes by uneventfully, besides a handful of extra pee breaks and one snack craving he can’t resist. The afternoon brings its own challenges.
The weather is slowly getting warmer and the closer it gets to the summer, the less Kyle can hide his growing bump behind coats and sweaters when he goes outside.
It’s not that he’s ashamed - he hasn’t been since he was a teenager and he refuses to be now. He just discovered that he has very little patience for having to explain his situation to random curious strangers.
Today, however, is a typical gloomy spring day, which means he’ll be able to go about the rest of his appointments with relative anonymity.
When Kyle gets home by the end of the afternoon, his limited amount of energy has been spent. He’d planned on unpacking some of the baby stuff they received from Dotty in the nursery, but as he sinks down on the couch, he decides that a nap is in order first.
It’s one of the plus sides of being pregnant, he thinks to himself as he fluffs up a pillow. No one bats an eye when you take a nap at random times a day.
He must sleep longer than he thinks because it’s the sound of a key turning in the lock that wakes him up. Squinting at the clock he notices that it’s indeed about time for John to come home from the base.
He’s still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when his partner enters the living room and throws his jacket over the armrest of the couch. Kyle blinks at him as he notices John’s stiff movements.
“Hey, “ he greets, sitting up. The what’s on your mind? goes unspoken between them.
John’s body language is tense as he puts down his bag and crosses his arms. “So what did you want to talk about?”
Kyle frowns at him, confused as to what he's referring to. “Eh?” he says, wondering what on earth has John so on edge.
“Your message,” John replies, clearly getting frustrated as he rubs his forehead, “You said we need to talk?”
Kyle grabs his phone and opens his messages. “I don’t remember sending you - oh… aw, bloody hell-“
At the top of his messenger app, he indeed sees that he sent John exactly that. And now that he reads it again, he suddenly remembers why and when.
“Kyle?” John asks, almost nervously.
Kyle sighs, cursing the hormone-induced forgetfulness that most definitely caused this. “I’m so sorry, I was gonna say ‘We need to talk about that registry list mum sent’ but I guess I got distracted.”
It’s been happening a lot lately. He thought Dotty was joking when she said pregnancy brain was a thing, but by now he has discovered that she was dead serious. He looks up at John. “You okay?”
John lets out a relieved chuckle as he sits down next to Kyle on the couch. “Fucking- yeah I’m good. Thought you’d gotten some bad news at the doc or something.”
“Like I would have sent a text like this-“ Kyle snorts, leaning into John. He feels kinda bad for causing his partner distress, but it’s also a little funny.
John turns to him abruptly with a raised eyebrow. “I distinctly remember you texting me the same thing before you told me you were gonna keep her.”
Kyle has to wreck his brain for a moment, but then he remembers what John is referring to with a wince. “…Yeah okay fair,” he says, before leaning towards his partner and kissing him on the cheek. “But no, everything’s good. Me and Bee are right on track.”
John sighs again, but this time Kyle recognizes it as one of relief. It’s sweet how much he worries, making Kyle feel a wave of affection for him.
“Good. That’s good.” John grunts, then asks, “You hungry?”
Realizing it is about dinner time, and that Kyle definitely has no energy to cook anything whatsoever, he nods. “I could go for some food, yeah.”
John already reaches for his phone, giving him a questioning look. “Anything you’re craving?”
Ah, how well his partner has gotten to know Kyle and his particular pregnancy moods by now. He gives John a grin as he leans back onto the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table.
“Thai, I think,” he hums thoughtfully, putting a hand on his stomach and feeling Bee nudge it as if she agrees. “Yep, definitely Thai.”
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iamthecomet · 5 months
Note
-walks in with a sleeping bag and pillow-
I bring you... sleepy thoughts feat. Omega and Dew.
Dew's actually pretty big on cuddles and being held, like, to an extent that he doesn't even pretend to hate it when his packmates scoop him up, give him hugs, or pull him in for a cozy little nap, but he isn't always aware of the fact that he NEEDS it.
He'll completely neglect to seek out physical comfort from the others if they don't initiate it first, because he forgets how good it makes him feel, and when he's in a funk, it doesn't even occur to him that he can ask for that.
So imagine if you will, a very overtired Dew trying to sleep and not being able to, taking to walking around the abbey until he winds up at the infirmary, because, "Maybe someone there will have something to knock me out." and he walks in to find Omega sitting in there at the desk filing some paperwork, also unable to get to bed for the evening due to stress and other little things keeping him awake.
So they're both there, beyond tired, and they make eye contact and, well, suddenly they're walking back to Omega's room, because it's closer and his bed is bigger, and it only takes a minute for them to snuggle up and fall asleep.
Something, something, I dunno how to elaborate other than that I think Omega has, like, maroon bedsheets with some kinda fancy gold trim, because he got them as a gift years ago and they're the softest, fluffiest damned things Dew has ever been wrapped up in in ages.
Also, maybe Omega lets Dew wear his pajamas even though they don't really fit, because they're warmer and softer and smell sooo nice...
-sprawls out on the floor-
Oh, these twoooooooooo. I just love the idea of Dew being a little grumpy--over tired--just desperate at this point. Asking for drugs. Someone to hit him over the head with something big. Literally anything to put him to sleep because he's pissed off and he's sick of it. And Omega just being like "you know what, I know exactly what you need." and putting his work away and just pulling a sputtering--still grumpy--Dew back to his room. And the two of them just slotting together, wrapped in the softest sheets in the world. And they're both out like a light almost instantly. And when Dew wakes up the next morning he looks at Omega and scowls even as he's snugging closer. Because how did he not know that all he needed was to be held in order to fall asleep? And worse, how did Omega know even when he didn't? Doesn't matter. He's still just so tired. Just a few more minutes. He'll deal with it later.
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qcomicsy · 2 years
Text
Bruce wayne platonically sleep with both Clark and Diana pass it on.
It started as the three of them were responsible to supervise a very particular thing on a random mission, it went for literally days. They played cards. Gossiped about their coworkers. Had a heart-to-heart (to-heart-to-heart-to-heart-to?). Clark cried a little. Played cards again. Diana cheated except she didn't because she would never, but Bruce was bored and butthurt so he said it anyway and "Clark stop laughing this is a serious matter". They ate whatever the jl freezer had. It tasted horrible. They talked about their family's. Clark is a good father. "Bruce it's going to work it out if you're just open it up-". They fought.
and then made it up because otherwise Clark would get sad. "How long it has been?" "42 hours". They waited in silence. "Bruce you should sleep". "No you won't stay awake a second night in a roll while we sleep. No I don't care how much your ninja training prepared you for that, I also don't care if he's going to do It anyway. Diana which side are you on?" Bruce stayed awake a second night in a roll. Clark woke up in a bad mood. It's nice how they're one of the few people who ever saw Superman in a bad mood. No they will never talk about it out loud. Diana made coffee. "It's not strong Clark. You have the taste buds of a child, don't look at me like that". They waited a couple of more hours. "How long it has been? I'm calling Jon-". Batman and Wonder woman play chess. Clark still is on his phone, he waits patiently as Jon tell him about his day, only giving his input every now and then. When they run out of things to say, Clark tells him to be good to his mother, that he loves them both and he's going to be back soon. He waits Jon to hang up. "Who's winning? Oh he's fine but Lois already went to work,". Batman won 5 times and Wonder Woman won 7. He's sulky about it.
"Let's do a re-mach again Alfred will make cookies".
"Ok".
They made it up for real this time.
"Bruce you should take a nap". "He wont". "I wont". "I know but he should". It's getting cold and didn't they had a warmer? Oh yeah of course it broke, they should really fix that thing. Diana wonders if she's ever going to get used to this type of weather. She misses home, not the one made of concrete, the one she danced with her sisters, she wonders what they're up to- "Oh thanks Clark". The fabric of this cape is really soft. "Thanks-
"my mom made it"
"his mom made it"
Clark glares at Bruce. They laugh. It's night again. "Have I ever told y'all...". "Yes Clark". "Oh". Now it's time to Diana glare at Bruce. "But tell us again". He does.
Diana laughs and in the same breath "When I was a child...". When she finishes Bruce hums "My father he...". "There was this girl...". When they blink it's day and when they blink twice is night again.
This time Bruce is going to sleep. Clark it's not playing. "You look like a mess". "He's right-" Diana adjust Clark's cape in her shoulders. "Even the bravest soldier needs a rest. You'll be no help if you keep going like this". Bruce want's to tell her they're not soldiers, they're a bunch of delusional misfits with too much power on their hands. But there's a curve in Diana's brow and a frown in Clark's lower lip that wisely tells him not to. He's exhausted. "I'm fine". "I won't argue about that". They do.
Bruce sleeps in the fourth night. He refuses to lay down so he just slauches in his chair, grumpy. Clark is not happy about it. Diana is not going to babysit a grown man. He'll sleep however he likes. They whisper. They don't need to have their faces close to eachother, they both have super hearing. But they do it anyway. It's comfy and Clark's shoulder is warm. Bruce might be having a nightmare. Clark reaches to the nape of his neck without thinking, thumb slowly caressing his cheek. "It's what ma uses to do". Present tense. Diana smiles. She does a small nod without taking her head of his shoulder.
They talk. Clark's heart is so big Diana swears she can feel it. They wait. Diana's knowledge transcends time and space and make Clark feels small in a good way. He almost feels like a child again. The world's too big fill with unthinkable wonder. It's when he realizes, he's a boy from a farm listening to a goddess. It doesn't feel as intimidating as it sounds. He misses not being expected to know it all. To do it all.
Bruce is awake but he's pretends he isn't. And Clark is aware but is pretending to not notice. He doesn't ask Clark's to take his hand off him. Nor does it take it himself. So Clark stays there. Diana is talking about art, culture and war and the good and bad of it all. Bruce it's breathing deep and his heart it's calm. The moment seems frozen on time.
It almost felt human.
It happens on the sixth day. Clark and Diana had an arm wrestling context. Clark won five times and Diana won two of it. He's trying not to get up to his head or overthink the possibility of her letting him think he won. Or the fact that with their sleep schedule no outcome would even come close to a honest result. She's not usually the type to lie and let him take the victory like that. "A fair match is a fair match" but she's has done it before. He's pretty sure of it. Batman is stuck in front of his computer, he misses his family. He misses his family but he won't say it. His jaw is clenched, he checks his phone every ten to ten minutes. But he won't say it. So he's keeping himself occupied.
Diana looks at the window and sit on the couch as Clark stretch himself before he sits next to her. Its noon. It's almost over. Bruce let's out a frustrated sight and turns off the computer crossing his arms to himself. He looks at them as Clark finishes stretching and lays his entire weight on Wonder Woman's side. There's few people there are able to handle him like that. And even fewer times where they actually have the time and the freedom to do it, so he's saving every opportunity that he gets. Bruce is staring at them. Clark lays his head on her shoulder. Bruce is staring. She mindlessly circles her arm on his neck resting her hand in his hair and messing his curls with the tip of her fingers. Bruce is staring. Clark looks at her to check if she's seeing it too, but her eyes never leave the unbreakable glass of the window. He looks at Bruce as he rest his head on her shoulder. There's a grown ass man dessed as a bat in the middle of a conference room crossing his arms glaring at an alien made of steal who's resting his head on a demigoddess who's humming a comercial dingle to herself, all of that, because he's to petty to come in and enjoy the moment. Clark wants to laugh about that.
And he does a little.
"You know, you can join too." He humours.
"Hn."
He's still glaring. Clark wonders if he's blinking.
He listen to Diana's heart. It's beating slowly, he's listening because we kinda wants to listen Bruce's, too. But the fact that Diana's heartbeat is matching the strokes in his hair caught him in a surprise. He's about ot say it when Diana goes unprompted.
"For a man who's willing to die for those he love you're sure afraid of showing intimacy."
It sounded like a teasing but her voice is cristal clear. It was obviously directed at Bruce but she's not even looking at him. And Clark want's to laugh because the man in his front it's unshakeable but his mouth twitched.
Clark still wonders if it was or wasn't a tease when she doubles down.
"Scary cat."
Clark chuckles.
Now she's looking at him.
Bruce lays on his back unmovable.
"Didn't know it was a requirement."
"There's a lot you don't know."
"Enlighten me."
"You're smart enough to get it."
Bruce takes a deep breath. The type no one would noticed, well no one but him. He's frustrated and Clark notices. But Bruce always look frustrated, so Clark knows it's not at them. The man eyes exchanged between his and Diana's.
"It's almost over".
"That's good."
"But we will have to stay a little more."
He can hear Wonder woman's other hand scratch the surfice of the couch with short nails something so small that he just silently registers it.
"How long." She's using her Wonder Woman voice. They all have one. All super-heros he means.
Some villains too.
Funny enough not many anti-heros do.
She's not even asking.
"I like this as much as you do."
"I never said I hate it."
"Neither do I."
"But I'm not happy with it." There is, Diana's voice. The tired one, the one he only heard five years into their friendship.
Batman drops the act.
"Me too." He takes of the cowl and passes his both cloves hands over his face and stays there as if he's analysing if he should say it. "I'm going to lose Damian's PTA and Cass's Ballet."
Silence.
"It's the third..." When his hand reaches his mouth he stops himself.
Silence
"So it's 16th." Diana helps.
"19th."
"Three days."
"Yes."
"Here."
"Yes."
"Until it's done."
"Yes."
"Have you warned the others?"
Batman just looks at her.
She doesn't bother to answer.
Silence again.
It's crushing. Clark misses Lois. He doesn't know if Jon has eaten, he called yesterday but no one picked up. They must've been sleeping. Kara promised check in. He misses his wife. He misses his wife and his house and his dog. He hopes Jon is feeding Crypto well because he forgot once, but he hopes Jon's be more aware now even if he's not there to remind him. He's kid is grown. He should send a message. And he should call Kon. But Kara promised check in. But that doesn't really matter because that's not the reason why he should call. And he should call. He won't, but he should. And Clark Kent was supposed to go back to his work after being "sick" four days ago. And-
"I mean it is cozy"
He hears his voice saying, it's the first time he intervene in a while.
Both Di and Bruce smile.
"He wouldn't know." She follows.
And that's enough to Bruce to join in. He sits besides them with the silent over-confidence he always has. But he clearly has no ideia about what to do with his hands. At first he puts on his own thighs, then he tries to rest in the back of the couch behind them, his hand nudges wonder woman's arm so the retreats it. Clark want's to giggle, instead he just take it on his own.
Clark was fourteen when he noticed men aren't supposed to be as affectionate as he was.
There's a akward wait between them. It's not the first time they do it, it probably won't be the last. But he always like to check. So he waits. There's a small squeeze, lighter than a feather and Bruce's weight slowly rests on him.
Clark's hand is too soft for someone made of steal.
They're exhausted. They all are, but they're not supposed to say it. Clark is resting on Diana's shoulder and holdings his hand and Bruce refuses confront what that does to hi heart. It's something too warm, too fuzzy and tender for him to grasp. Men like him aren't supposed to get that.
They sat in silence. Two of the most important beings of the universe and a spoiled brat. It's a joke. But he doesn't feel like laughing. He's not worth it. God knows he's not. But Clark's hand is soft and Diana's voice is crystal clear. So he stays anyway.
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Hoping it never does.
Diana's reciting the constellations name's. More to herself than to any of them. She knows the star's first names. He knows the scientific one's. He kinda wants to correct her, just to be a brat. But his eyes are closing and clark is warm.
Bruce wakes up the next day with Clark's cape on his shoulder and no one at his side.
He smells coffee from the kitchen and hears Clark's voice faintly complaining from the hallway.
And he's horrofied.
He's horrofied because that's the comfiest and safest that Bruce has ever slept in his entire life.
And he can't stop thinking about it.
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ticklishfiend · 2 years
Text
Love Language (My Hero Academia)
Ship : Switch!Bakugou, Switch!Deku (BakuDeku)
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A/N : sorry if there’s any mistakes, the tumblr app is a bitch and i am so tired of using this platform! sorry for the cynicism, just tired. hope you guys enjoy!! i’ve been wanting to write for bkdk forever so this was fun :)
Summary : Bakugou's keeping a secret. Deku is very eager to figure out what exactly he's hiding, and this leads to some...playful antics.
Word Count : 3994
REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED! LOVE U ALL MWAH <3
. . .
Deku had put some real thought behind what his and Kacchan’s love language together would be. He felt every relationship had one that stood out above the rest, whether it be words of affirmation and adoration for one another, or simple physical touch that lingered so one could be as close as possible to the other they love. 
But if he had to choose a word, just one word to describe the love language he and Kacchan shared together, the answer he finds in his vocabulary sticks out like a sore thumb:
Bickering.
“Kacchan, I already told you there isn’t another day we can go. I’m either babysitting Eri or training with All Might every other day; it has to be Tuesday.”
“Fucking reschedule then, nerd. I’ve got plans on Tuesday, and I know damn well I’m not rescheduling,” Kacchan lounged against Deku’s bed, sprawled lazily as he scrolled through his phone and argued like it was clockwork. Because really, it was. 
“I can’t just reschedule, you know that! What’s so important about Tuesday anyway? Got a hot date you care to clue me in on?”
“Oh yeah, super hot. Way outta your league, don’t bother asking,” the smirk on Kacchan’s face made Deku smile at the corners of his mouth before immediately pulling his face back into a pout-like scowl. 
“I’m serious, Kacchan, why not Tuesday?”
“Because I said so.”
“Stop being so stubborn.”
“Stop being so annoying.”
“I’m not annoying, I’m persistent.”
“Persistent on annoying the shit out of me.”
Deku sighed frustratedly, finally shutting the laptop on his desk and swiveling the chair around to face his incredibly hard-headed boyfriend, who was still looking at his phone.
He stared at Kacchan for a good moment before the blonde gave in and looked back at him. The blonde kept his eyebrows up and lips pressed, like he was pretending to care about the conversation. He did care, but it’s fun to tease Deku and get him all huffy like he is now.
“Yes, your majesty?”
Deku groaned, but he felt his face getting just slightly warmer at the teasing remark. He said nothing in response, just continuing to stare Kacchan down like his eyes had hidden lie detectors installed in the retinas.
Finally, Kacchan huffed, his face relaxing from the teasing one he held back into that infamous grumpy expression, returning his glare to the phone in his hand, totally uninterested. Totally.
“Look, I’ve got shit to do that day, alright?”
“Like what? Why can’t you tell me what it is?”
“Because I just can’t, okay?! Not a big fucking deal..” Kacchan continued with a mumble of feign annoyance, “You’ll figure out what it is later anyways.”
Ohh. Okay then. So it’s a secret for Deku, not from him. Interesting. Very interesting.
Deku sat in thought, allowing an almost tense silence to fill the room. His glare remained aimed at Kacchan, finger curled against his chin that tilted down as he pondered. It was an expression Deku wore quite often when thinking. Every couple of seconds Kacchan spared him a glance, before clicking his tongue like he was irritated at the cogs turning in Deku’s head. 
Finally, Deku stood, sauntering over to the bed innocently enough. He peeked down at Kacchan with a sweet smile, the blonde finally peering above his phone and grimacing at the look.
“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” He grumbled.
“So what’s this about Tuesday?”
“Oh my god are you still on that shit? I said you’ll find out soon enough so just drop it-- hey-! Gah whAt the-! S-stop, dohon’t you-- shihit stop!”
That was another thing Deku could probably count as one of their love languages: tickling. Whether to settle a dumb argument, win against the other in a spar, or just to hear some cute giggles whenever they felt in the mood, somehow tickling was always brought back up in their relationship like they were rekindling the childhood they fucked up for each other.
Neither one of them minded it. In fact, they both thoroughly enjoyed the activity when it was with one another. But one was definitely more keen on admitting that fact than the other would ever dare.
Deku’s smile was innocent and sweet; the fingers curling into Kacchan’s lower ribs, pinching the sensitive bundle of nerves that left his boyfriend near thrashing through choked-back laughs, were much less so.
Kacchan growled through restrained giggles, trying hard to fight back against the silly sensations that forced his body to curl around his evil boyfriend’s fingers and his belly to bounce in giggles so unlike him.
“Q-quihit! I swear I’ll- gggrraahaha nohoho!” His feet kicked out against the mattress, ruining the well-made comforter just so he could relieve himself from all the pent-up ticklish energy coursing through him. He tried pushing away Deku’s hands, but even when he managed to move them away from one spot, like his belly, they always found another that somehow felt more ticklish than the last, like his fucking ribs. “I swehehear! GAhaAHAHahah Deheheku!”
“You swear what? Sorry, I can’t understand you, you’ll what now? Hm? What are you gonna do, Kacchan?” Deku teased, delighting in the squeal and curses against his life he got in return. “Oh, I know what you’ll do! How about you tell me what you’re gonna be up to on Tuesday? Hm? How’s that sound, Kacchan?”
The blonde just shook his head defiantly, if not to also hide his flushed face in his pillow as much as he could. 
Why did he always feel like this every time that nerd tickled him. It was so fucking stupid, immature as anything. Tickling isn’t that bad, it shouldn’t take much for Bakugou to fight back and claim victory like he did with everything else.
If it was anyone else tickling him, he’d still be holding back well by now. Sure, it’d probably tickle just the same, maybe less. But he’d be able to hold off his laughter, fight back harder, do fucking anything other than curling up into a squirming ball of growling giggles and just let it happen—like he was doing right now. 
There was just something about the way Deku in particular tickled him that always made his face flame, made his brain short-circuit into nothing more than giddy mush. It just felt different. More intimate, maybe. Deku knows the ins and outs of Bakugou’s entire being, has analyzed him since the day they met, and yet still somehow the bastard manages to find out new things about him nearly every day. Deku knows exactly how to tickle him, and this makes him vulnerable. That knowledge makes the fingers squishing into his belly tickle just so much worse than they would with anyone else. 
Bakugou can't stand it. He can't take it. 
And yet he fucking does. 
“C’mooooon Kacchan! I know you wanna tell me! Tell me tell me tell me tell me tell me-”
“STOHOHOPP! You ahahasshohole! Fuhuhuck ahahaha-!” Bakugou was going to die like this. Face red like a cherry, squirming away from his boyfriend’s fingers that always found a new spot to torment no matter his struggle, those stupid fucking butterflies filling his belly and making him feel all—
NO. No. He doesn’t like this. This is torture, an interrogation tactic—and a childish one at that. He is fine, he will persevere, he can fucking handle a little-
“WAHAHAIT NOHOhohoho! Nononohohoho you fuhuhucker!” Through his struggle Deku managed to sit on his waist, pinning his body to the bed and leaving him even more helpless than before. He even zeroed in on that disgustingly ticklish spot on his upper ribs, the one he just loved to remind Kacchan of endlessly.  The blonde glued his elbows to his sides like it would do anything but trap Deku’s stupid skilled fingers to that one horribly ticklish spot. 
Bakugou tried spitting curses at Deku through his cackles, but the words always dissolved into hysterical giggles that that green-headed fucker just chuckled at in response.
“You’re so cuuuute! It tickles, doesn’t it? Does it tickle? Does thiiiis tickle?” Deku pinched faster at that dastardly little spot, Kacchan throwing his head back in giggly anguish. The blonde shook his head yet again, squeezing his eyes shut tight so he didn’t have to look at that sickly sweet expression on his evil tormentor's face.
“Yohohou-! You cahahan’t! You cahahan’t juuhust-!” He yet again lost his words to wheezes and unstoppable giggles, kicking hard against the mattress in flustered frustration.
“I can’t? Oh, but I can! I can do whatever I want, Kacchan, and you can’t do anything about it. All you have to do is tell me what you’re gonna be up to on our date night and then I might let you go!”
Bakugou gave him a wide-eyed intimidation stare, though the effect was lost on his cackling smile and scrunched-up nose. “Mihihight!?”
“Well yeah, I love your laugh~! I only get to hear it so often cause you’re this ticklish,” Deku chuckled, now poking sporadically all over his boyfriend's sensitive ribs and making the blonde throw his head back in a giggle fit. “Tickling you is just so fun, Kacchan, you know it’s hard for me to stop sometimes,” he stated it like a clear fact Bakugou should already be aware of. Even worse is that Bakugou was indeed very aware of how much fun Deku found tickling him to be, and it made his body feel torn between squirming away from him entirely to escape that horribly funny feeling, and just sitting perfectly still (or, at least, as still as one could be while being tickled) and letting his mean boyfriend have his fun. He shouldn’t be thinking like that, Deku is having his fun by torturing the living daylights out of him, but Bakugou’s come to find such a soft spot in himself for that little fucker, one that wants to let him do whatever he wants just to make the boy happy— unluckily for him, this soft spot just happens to be insanely fucking ticklish, and Deku has all intentions to exploit the hell out of it.
“I don’t cahahare! It’s nohohot—! Ahahaha shihit—!” Kacchan wheezed, fists gripping onto Dekus wrists like a lifeline. He pushed, he shoved, made a whole show about trying to get away.
And yet? There he lies; still giggling, still tickled.
Deku chuckled, giving sweet pinches to Kacchans hips and thriving in the loud, giggly whine his action brought. “You can’t even talk now~,” he keened, bringing his face so fucking close to Bakugou’s own that the blonde was almost worried he’d be able to feel the warmth radiating off his flushed face. “I’ve got youuuu~!”
Bakugou wailed through a desperate cackle. He hated that, the stupid teasy shit Deku always pulled when he had him like this. It was so mean, made him feel so damn vulnerable, why the hell is his heart pounding so fucking hard. 
“Nohoho! Nononohoho—!” It was all he could say, his only counter to Deku’s malicious attack. He can’t give in though, can’t let that bastard get what he wants out of him. He has to stay strong. 
“No? Aww, but why? I just wanna know about your fun little plans!” Deku scribbled up Kacchan’s sides, his fingers walking a dark path back up to the blonde’s worst spot. Kacchan jerked to the side, held his arms so tight against himself while still trying to maintain the grasp he had against his boyfriend’s weapons of mass destruction. He knew it was no use, they’d played this game so many times by now he knew his fate was sealed, but he had to try damnit. 
“I wohohon’t! It’s a fuhucking secrehehet you bihihitch!” 
“Always so rude to me, Kacchan. What did I ever do to you, huh?” Deku said with an all-knowing grin, tilting his head like an innocent and curious puppy. That mean fucking bastard.
“Thihihis!! You’re fuhuhcking evihihil—!” Bakugou was having a hard time breathing now, his only source of oxygen being through hysterical giggling. Deku sighed with a tut, removing his fingers from the dip of Kacchans hips and placing them on his chest. He pressed down firmly, like to assert they were not yet finished here. Bakugou groaned through the giggly breaths he took thanks to his little break. 
“I’m not evil, Kacchan. I’m persistent,” Deku smiled at his boyfriend's scoff. “We can be done here, y'know. No more tickling if you just tell me.”
Bakugou glared up at Deku, finally willing down his blush so he could actually assert himself here. 
“I don’t care about the tickling. I’m not fucking talking. It’s not for you to know, not yet at least,” He smirked, placing a hand over the ones pressed against his chest. “Can’t keep your hands off me long, huh?”
Deku pouted, mad that Kacchan was trying to dominate the situation again like he always does. But no, no he’s not in charge here, not yet at least. Deku still has some answers he’s looking for. 
“At least tell me why you can’t tell me.”
Bakugou blinked. He glared at Deku with an incredulous look, one that said “you’re fucking joking, right?”, and when he saw that look of pure seriousness on his boyfriends face, he just couldn’t help it. Bakugou slammed a hand over his mouth as he cackled at his boyfriend’s way with words. 
He laughed through a muffled palm, “You’re so fuhucking stupihid!” Bakugou cackled, his free hand squeezing Deku’s on his chest to assure his words were lighthearted. “‘Tell me why you can’t tell me—,’ that’s fucking telling you, you dumbass!”
Deku scowled at his boyfriend's hysterics, much less amused by this form of laughter than the kind he brought out himself. 
“I’m serious! Why can’t you tell me?”
“I did tell you, it’s a secret.”
“But what kind of secret? A gift? A party? Be more specific.”
“No, cause then you’ll fucking figure it out, you dunce.”
Deku dropped his face. “You’re just asking for it, aren’t you?”
“I’m not asking for shit! If I’m asking you anything it’s that you leave it fucking be.”
“But Kachaaaaan…”
Oh there he goes, whining and pulling that stupid puppy dog look again. That adorable little idiot just always gets what he wants, it’s not fucking fair. But not this time, oh no. Bakugou stayed strong, holding his own, refusing to give the little manipulator what he wants. Because if he did, it would ruin the fucking surprise. 
Deku’s birthday is next month, he’s turning the big one-eight. Bakugou had been preparing his present for weeks now, counting down the days and scheduling the purchase perfectly so nothing could go wrong. But, the only day he could line up to buy the limited-edition All Might plush that had been recalled when they were kids for whatever reason, was Tuesday. 
Deku had one when they were little, but through a tussle between the two boys (one that Bakugou knows he started and to this day feels terrible over), it had been torn and ruined in the mud of their local playground. Deku’s mom had tried everything to fix it before eventually just trying to buy a new one, but again, the damn thing had been fucking recalled, so it was nowhere.
Bakugou still has memories of Deku bawling his eyes out over the thing, sleepless nights from not being able to cuddle his favorite plush like a security blanket. Bakugou feels, and even back then felt, fucking horrible over it. 
So, when he found one for sale online a few months ago, one that was in mint-fucking-condition, he knew that was it. That plushie was exactly what Deku would get from him on his birthday into adulthood. 
Thing was, buying the damn thing was looking to be a real fucking inconvenience at the moment. He was able to talk to the seller, get to a nice price they were both happy with (well, happy was an overstatement; how in the hell could a stuffed doll be so fucking expensive?!), and agree on a time to meet up and exchange. But it had to be Tuesday. This Tuesday. No other day, the seller told him, cause if he was late he’d give it to the next seller who was just as eager to buy. 
And so, here he lies, entirely unwilling to fess up with an actual monster on his waist trying it’s damndest to get him to talk. But Deku had his fun, Bakugou at least gave him that. Now he thinks it’s about time a certain monster learned what the consequences of pestering his very nice and loving boyfriend are.
“Quit your whining, idiot,” Bakugou grinned before quickly gripping at Deku’s waist, careful not to tickle yet, but enough to make sure the boy knew it was a threat. “You think you’re just gonna get away with that little stunt?”
Deku gasped with a wobbly smile, his hands shooting to Kacchan’s wrists with an all-too-excited pleading look. “N-no, I just--”
“You just what? Just thought you could tickle all the answers out of me like it’s easy? Ohoho, I’ll show you what’s really easy--” Bakugou chuckled before delivering quick yet gentle squeezes to Deku’s hips, the boy already folding forward in embarrassed, giggly huffs, his head shaking ‘no’ all the while. “--What’s easy is making you fall apart right at the seams, you ticklish idiot.”
In one quick move, Bakugou had their positions flipped, Deku on his back with his legs wrapped around Bakugou’s waist and the blonde’s fingers pinching quick and mercilessly right at that little spot he knows Deku just can’t stand.
Deku squealed and shrieked through giggles, legs kicking beside his boyfriend’s waist and hands pushing not hard enough at Bakugou’s wrists. His hair was already tussled from shaking his head, face flushed and scrunched in ticklish anguish.
“Ahahaha!! Nohot fahahair!” He whined through his cackles, body twisting with a giggly shout when one hand moved to pinch up and down his right side.
“Oh, it’s not so fair when it’s you getting the tickle punishment then, is it? My my, what double standards you have there, Deku,” Bakugou couldn’t help the wide grin on his face. Seeing Deku like this is just always too damn cute. He looks a mess in the best way possible, shrieking pleas and apologies through hysterical giggles. Bakugou wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I’m sohohorryyy!! I wahas just--AH! AHAHahaha juhuhust chuhurious! Kahachhaan plehehease-!” Deku pleaded, trying to look his boyfriend in the eye but failing miserably when the tickling just made his eyes scrunch right back up in laughter.
“Yeah well curiosity sure killed the cat here, didn’t it?” Bakugou moved his hands to pinch at the thighs so readily available to him next to his own sides, leaving Deku to arch off the bed with a loud, desperate squeal. He tried slapping at Bakugou's hands, now too far away to get a firm grip on them, but his fight was futile. Deku was sentenced to a tickled silly death. He wrapped his arms around his torso and cackled helplessly, squirming around like it would do a thing.
“You givin’ up? Just gonna sit there and let me tickle you silly, Deku? You’re fuckin’ hopeless,” Bakugou chuckled, delighted in the blush Deku now tried to cover up with his right hand. “Do you apologize for being a pest?”
“YEHEHES! I’m sohohorryy! So sohohorry, Kachahahaha--! Ahahaha nohoho-! Pleheheehehe-!”
“Yeah, I didn’t quite catch that,” Bakugou brought his face down towards Deku’s own, the boy’s cackles so loud it almost hurt his ears. He grinned maliciously, “Can’t really understand you when, y’know, you can’t even talk~,” Oh how he loved to use Deku’s own words against him. It always made him scream so deliciously.
Hm. Bakugou was quite close to Deku’s face at the moment. His cute, red, smiley little face. Bakugou’s eyes scanned down from the boy’s cheeks, to jaw, to neck. Hm. Hmm.
Bakugou switched up his tickle tactic just a tad, from digging into Deku’s thighs to just tickling softly over the skin (much thanks to the boy’s athletic shorts he always wore for comfort). At this, Deku kicked hard against the sheets, letting out a half-screech half-whine through his bubbly giggles. Bakugou grinned at the change of pace before dipping down right into the crook of Deku’s neck and nibbling.
Deku screamed. His hands pushed against Bakugou’s hair, not enough to pull but enough to make it a mess. Bakugou growled into his neck at that, making him squeak so preciously. 
“Little stuck, huh?”
“Nohohoho! Nohoho yohohou-! Thihhiss ihihis-! AHAHAHA-!! Tihihickles!” His voice was so high-pitched now, the tickling at his neck making it impossible to lower it for his own dignity. 
“Yeah? Tickles?” Bakugou whispered right into the shell of Deku’s ear, the tickled boy shaking his head with a squeal like it would do anything but make Kacchan’s hair tickle at his nose.
“Okahahahay! Okahahay, Kachahahan!” he shoved at Bakugou’s shoulders while his own bounced in giggly mirth. He knew his face had to be bright red at this point, he could feel the heat spreading everywhere, god he felt so warm. Kacchan’s face, his lips, against his neck and ears were too much, too vulnerable, too ticklish. The way his chapped lips grazed the skin as his teeth worked oh-too gently to nibble away at every fiber of his sanity was making him lose his mind. Not to mention he was still tickling his fucking thighs. Kacchan rarely tickled him so gently, it was so out of character for the boy, and yet here he was, tearing Deku apart by the seams just like he said he would with the softest and meanest of tickles Deku could’ve ever imagined.
“You sorry yet~?” Bakugou whispered yet again, smiling into the skin when he heard Deku’s laughter start going silent, every few seconds a wheeze or hysterical giggle slipping its way through before delving right back into silent delirium. 
Finally, Deku got the breath to barely giggle out, “Y-yehehes! S-sohohorry! Kahahahahaha-!”
With a kiss at the shell of Deku’s red little ear (oh it was so warm, how delightful), Bakugou pulled away, the boy left panting through giggles on his lap. Fuck, he looks so cute like that. Bright pink and wrecked, breathing hard while still unable to control the titters of leftover sensations crawling over his neck and thighs. 
Deku seemed to have forgotten what this was all about, just looking up at Kacchan and throwing his arms over his face with embarrassed giggles. Bakugou chuckled, giving a slap to the side of Deku’s thigh and making him squeak.
“You’re gonna love it, though. Even if I can’t tell you what it is, I’ll at least let your nosy ass know it’s something good,” Bakugou gave a small smile, eyes hooded in adoration.
Deku brought his arms down to his chest so he could look properly at his boyfriend, smiling wide when he saw how Kacchan was looking at him. 
“Hope it was worth it,” he giggled before propping himself up and puckering his lips out for Kacchan to take the chance. Bakugou just rolled his eyes fondly before giving in and kissing his boyfriend softly, hand on his cheek.
A month passed, and Deku did indeed adore his gift. Tears were shed (all on Deku’s part of course, Bakugou just chuckled at his boyfriend’s sensitivity like he always did), and that night Deku had two things he could cuddle and snuggle himself to sleep with.
Maybe they had three love languages, Deku thought as he drifted off, cuddled against the soft plush he forgot he missed so much and the warm arms wrapped protectively around his waist. Bickering, check. Tickling, double check. Gift-giving? Most definitely a triple check in Deku’s books. He gave the plush a tight squeeze as he finally dozed off with a smile.
. . .
A/N : i hope yall enjoyed! it's currently 4:30am and i've got class in the morning and work in the afternoon so i should rlly get to sleep lmaoo. this jsut took way longer to post thanks to tumblr dot com being the worst platform in the world! hope yall have a great day, love u guys!! <;33
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jawritter · 1 year
Text
My Brother’s Keeper
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Chapter 4
Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam
Word Count: 2k
Prompt: Photographer AU
Written for: @spnchristmasbingo​
Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)
Warnings: It’s getting warmer... Inside at least...
A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!
Main Masterlist
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Your POV:
"Oh my God that's fucking terrible," Sam coughed as he sat the clear glass tumbler down on the well-worn coffee table on front of him and held his hands up in surrender. 
"The two of you are fucking nuts, how do you drink that shit?" Sam questions as Dean and Y/N collapse back onto the old, well-worn sectional in a fit of laughter. 
"Well, you did make Sammy," Dean chuckled as he sat his own glass of eggnog down next to Sam's. 
"Also," Y/N chimed in just after swallowing down the rest of the contents of her glass. "I think it's safe to say I murdered my liver years ago and I'm just living on borrowed time anyway."
"You and me both," Dean's agreement came from the couch behind her as she made her way over to place what she was sure was the last glass ornament on the Christmas tree that now stood proud in front of the bay windows in the living room. 
"Well, this has been fun," Sam announced with the sudden clap of his hands on his jean clad thighs, "but I'm gonna turn in for the night."
"Oh come on lightweight?" Y/N teased, knowing good and goddamn well Sam could drink her under the table. She just liked to yank his chain. 
Dean cackled at what surely was Sam's famous disgruntled puppy expression.
"Tomorrow, me, you, Dean, whiskey poker. I can drink you all into alcohol poisoning," Sam said, making a pointed poke at each warm body in the room before stalking off to his room to retire for the evening.
"Night bitch!" Dean called over his shoulder just as the bedroom door closed, and if she wasn't mistaken, she could have sworn she heard a muffled, "jerk" come from behind the door. 
Y/N was suddenly made very aware that she was found, once again, alone with Dean. It only took microseconds for the anxiety that Sam's horrible eggnog had chased away. 
"Well, it's after midnight," Dean said as he got up to pour himself a good three fingers of scotch that Sam had left sitting just above the mantel. "So I guess we can't bust his balls too bad until I drink his ass into the ground tomorrow."
Dean turned and smiled at her. It wasn't a great, giant smile; one she was certain would light up the room if he'd done it. It was just a simple smirk, but it sent a warmer feeling flowing through her vain than any whisky she'd ever drank. 
"You're not gonna turn in on me are you?" Dean questioned suddenly. "Come on, stay up for a little while with me. We decorated this dn tree, might as well stare at it for a while."
As if to add emphasis to his request, Dean reached next to him and patted the couch where he'd sat, and she was pretty sure the blush on her already Alcohol flushed face was enough to outshine the Christmas tree. All that aside, and completely out of character for her, her feet complied to his request, mostly without her permission. 
She generally sat down on the couch, sure to keep a cushion's distance between them because as attracted to him as she was, and as nice as he seemed to be, she still had a lot of unresolved trust issues from her past, and now they were alone. 
"Tell me a little bit about yourself Y/N, seeing as Sam decided I didn't even need to know you existed until now," Dean requested, his thick fingers expertly spinning the glass that sat perched on his knee, something that if she was careful of, she might be completely entrapped by, and unable to focus on the conversation, so she blinked, and forced herself to look away; even though she really didn't want too. 
"There's not really all that much to tell," she admitted. "I grew up here in Detroit. Went to business school to learn how to be a secretary because I've always liked to keep things somewhat organized. Covid hit, and I ended up here. That's pretty much it. I've never traveled all over like you and Sam, my life has been pretty boring."
"Boring is a matter of perspective," Dean offered with a shrug. "I would have given anything for that kind of stability in my life." 
Y/N looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, but there was a look on his face that told her he was telling the truth. A story in the lines and creases and scares there that was beginning to be told, and damn she would love to hear it. 
"How much has Sam told you about our family? You know? Life before he came here?" Dean pressed as a heavy silence fell over the room, and Y/N shook her head as her eyes diverted back to the tree in the room. 
"Not much really, and I never asked because I never wanted to pry," she admitted. 
Dean nodded, his eyes trailing over her face. 
"Dad was uhm… let's just say… in extreme pest control for sake of time. We traveled all over the country, helping people get rid of things that shouldn't be there. Anyway, it was always a different school, different town. Sammy hated it, and I hated it for him. I wanted him to have normalcy, and when dad passed, I spiraled a bit, but Sam stuck with me for a while…." 
Dean's words trailed away, and Y/N desperately wished she could see the things he was seeing, the pictures and memories his mind were painting for him, but he didn't let the moment linger, instead, he cleared his throat and continued.
"Anyway, traveling isn't all it's cracked up to be. I'm glad he has this now, has a friend here with him. It's good for him whether he believes it or not. He calls me bullhead, but he's just as bad sometimes."
"Well, what about you?" She pressed, desperate to learn all she could about the handsome, green eyed man that sat Meer feet from her. The more they talked, the easier it seemed to be. It was strange to her. "What have you been doing since Sam's here now?"
Dean grimaced a little, and she was afraid she'd taken it a step too far in her questions, but to her surprise he answered. 
"Now that is a boring answer," he admitted with a chuckle. "I'm a forty-four year old Private Detective that lives alone with a 3 year old rescue dog. I get up, go to work, come home, drink, repeat."
She had never wanted to reach out and hug someone so badly, but she behaved, instead she just got up, and made her way over to pour herself another drink when she heard the distinct sound of a camera shutter behind her, and turned to see Dean's shy smile as he lowered the camera, and placed it back on the small table next to him. 
"Oh gosh," she blushed, "don't do that! You will break your camera!" 
Dean scoffed as If she'd just said the most preposterous thing, and that surprised her. She had expected him to just laugh at the truth. 
"You cut yourself to short sweetheart," he insisted. "I'm just taking advice from someone that gave it to me… taking pictures of things that are beautiful for once."
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Dean’s POV: 
Dean didn’t know why, but he just couldn’t get enough of seeing Y/N blush. It made his dark little word that much better, just a little bit brighter. He hadn’t felt something like that in so, so long. For years, he’d closed himself off from the world, even Sam. He just thought he’d spiraled when John died, nope. When he’d lost Sarah, the only person he’d ever really let himself fall for, confide in. The only woman who knew everything about him, the good, the bad, and the ugly. He spiraled almost out of control. 
The drinking got worse, almost as bad as when he had the mark. The pain was intolerable. It never really went away if he were being honest. Then he met Y/N, and just like that, it didn’t hurt as badly anymore. Just like that, he could breathe again. It should have scared him, but honestly, he’d let himself wallow in this pit long enough, and it was well past time to pull himself up again. Dean wasn’t ever one to give up. Sarah would want him to be happy. Sam needed him to be happy, that much since he’d gotten here had been clear, but more than that HE needed to be happy. Y/N could do that for him, if she were willing, and it was just something he just KNEW. 
“You must be one hell of a ladies man, or a damn good liar,” she insisted with a giggle. That’s when he detected it, the little hint of slur in her speech. She wasn’t as sober as he was, and he wasn’t about to take advantage of her, but tomorrow, before the ‘festivities,’ began, he made himself a promise that he’d spend some time getting to know her more, maybe try and wash away some of that self loathing she carried so deeply. 
“Just calling it like I see it pretty girl,” he voiced, and she blushed even deeper if that were possible, wrapping her arms around her full breast to try and hide herself from him, and God he wanted to beg her to not hide from him. He wanted to see her, all of her. He’d never been around a woman that captivated him more than her, and it stung that she felt as though she needed to hide herself away from him. He’d never hurt her, he’d die before he hurt her. 
“Come on,” he said, standing up suddenly, “you’re a little drunk, and I’m a gentleman, or at least I try to be. Let’s get you to bed, or tomorrow we won't be able to make my brother look like the little bitch he is at Whiskey Poker.”
Unsure, always so unsure, he could tell, but she did it anyway, she stood slowly, lacing her arm around the one he extended. 
“Are you seriously about to walk me to my bedroom door?” she questioned with a slightly intoxicated chuckle, and Dean grinned like an idiot. God she was so fucking cute. 
“You’re damn right I am sweetheart,” he teased, “you never know what could be lurking in dark corners, besides, like I said, I am a gentleman, what kinda man would I be if I let a lady see herself to bed after keeping her up all night.”
She tossed her head back and laughed at that, and God he wanted to see more of that, NEEDED to see more of that. 
“Who said chivalry was dead I guess,” she said as they came to a stop in front of her door, and across from Dean’s, and Dean beamed, inside and out. 
“I try,” he agreed, and leaned forward to kiss her softly on the cheek, mostly because he couldn’t help it, he just had to kiss her, but not on the lips, not tonight. Not while she was a little tipsy. He wasn’t that kinda guy anymore. 
She blushed profusely as he backed away, and his own resolve almost wavered as he hovered there. Wanting so badly to kiss her, taste her; but he pulled away, because Dean was going to do this right. He was determined too. 
“Goodnight, Dean,” she said after a stunned, somewhat dazed moment. 
“Goodnight pretty girl.” 
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Chapter 5 
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Forever:
@demongirl1996​​​​​​​​​​  
@as-lost-as-sams-shoe​​​​​​​​​​
@jensenslady79​​​​​​​​​​
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@fullwattpadmusictree​​​​​​​​​​
@nancymcl​​​​​​​​​​
@christycreature​​​​​​​​​​
@whiskey-infused-dreams​​​​​​​​​​
@supernatural79impala​​​​​​​​​​
@deandreamernp​​​​​​​​​​
@forgetthisbull​​​​​​​​​​
@miraclesoflove​​​​​​​​​​
@slamminmine​
@deanwanddamons​
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@chevyharvelle​
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@lyss-dw79​​​​​​​​​​
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@lemondropirwin​​​​​​​​​
@squirrelnotsam​​​​​​​​​​
@hobby27​​​​​​​​​
@spnbaby-67​​​​​​​​​​  
@mrsjenniferwinchester​​​​​​​​​​
@defenderrosetyler​​​​​​​​​​
@thecreatiivecorner​​​​​​​​​​  
@vicmc624​​​​​​​​​​
@busy-bee-angel-misska​​​​​​​​​​
@justanotherwinchester​​​​​​​​​​
@brilovesdeanwinchester​​​​​​​​​​
@idksupernatural​​​​​​​​​​
@lyarr24​​​​​​​​​​
@emoryhemsworth​​​​​​​​​​
@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​​​​​​​​​​
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@itmejado​​
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Jensen and Dean’s Babes
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@deanwinchesterswitch​​​​​​​​​​​
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@myloversgone​​​​​​​​​​​
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@eevvvaa​​​​​​​​​​​
@bts-spnlvr12​​​​​​​​​​​
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@samsgirl93​​​​​​​​​​​
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@mlovesstories​
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bobbybutterfly · 24 days
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It’s been over 2 weeks since I last posted. Well. I hope that these four pieces were worth the wait.
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Mulori! Boy I’m proud of this piece! I tried experimenting with colour by using warmer colours for shadows and cool colours for lights. She’s really giving angel of war descending from the heavens.
What to say about Mulori? Her death! You’re telling me that scout Gosemdouchi got a whole ass music video dedicated to him and Mulori gets NOTHING?! I’m outraged. But her edition of In the Years I Spent Far From Home is just so beautiful. Now I’m writing about it, I’m not sure if they made a separate cover for when she sings it in Operation White Snow or she was always singing it. Non the less it slaps.
Interesting was to see she’s shown often with Commander Gosemdouchi. He personally sends her off on her mission to stop the weasel spies (I’m sorry I don’t remember the name of their group). He cries when she dies, proclaiming they should fire their missiles for Mulori. The reason why I find it interesting is that when I went to write a short story about Mulori’s time in the military, I made them have a let’s say weird relationship. Maybe it got saved in my unconscious memory. Just like with Udochi being scout Gosemdouchi’s younger brother LOL. I thought I made that up but no!
I should maybe go back to that story sometime. Probably change Commander Gosemdouchi to a lower rank hedgehog that still has authority over her. A country leader would not have time to bully some low rank scout. Even though it is quite funny when I think about it.
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Oewepali! I got told that this piece lacks depth because I use the same colours in the foreground and background. That’s a problem in all my pieces. It’s my fault for trying to use a very limited colour palette. Also what happened to his left arm and now that I’m looking at it, where’s his tail? The lighting too is… With the lighting in these pieces I wasn’t thinking about where it would logically go. I just made the lighter parts where they would look good compositionally. Yeah. I’m not that proud of the last two pictures.
As for what I think of this character… I originally thought that he got some developmental disability. I thought it would be interesting to write about a character during war that doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Kinda like Forest Gump. After rewatching the series (I still have to rewatch last two episodes) I came to the conclusion that he’s neurotypical but bullied by his brothers into thinking that he’s stupid. In the later episodes he’s shown to be actually quite capable. If I ever write a story featuring him I might give him like dyslexia though. I imagine he and his brothers went through a lot of trauma. Because he was the youngest and maybe had difficulty with learning they picked on him to let their frustration out.
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Mulsajo! That’s right! I know his name now! I drew his paw like that because it was like that in the reference. I don’t really like it but I don’t have an idea how I would change it. I did change though, his teeth. My mom shown me rodent teeth because she didn’t like the mice have cat fangs. So he is a little more anatomically correct. Ignore the dog nose and that he’s anthropomorphic. LOL.
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I took just so many screenshots! I should sometime post them. I love how they’re drawn in this picture! SO CUTE!
Mulsajo has one of the best designs in the show. The ripped up purple shirt is iconic. It was a while since I’ve seen the episodes with him. Before rewatching the show I thought he was a decent guy. Then I rewatch the show and he’s so mean to poor Oewepali. Dude can’t get a break. My head cannon still is that he’s nice but because they were starving, he’s aloud to be a bit grumpy. He’s also spiritual. Giving us one of the funnier jokes when Oewepali asks if he can eat the big fish only to be told no and then complain that Mulmangcho should have died earlier. This show’s dark humour is pretty great.
I want to develop my own mythology for my AU. Such as the mouse kings being descended from the sea god because Mulmangcho (he’s a king in exile in my AU) is often shown by the sea. It’s something I was thinking about when I drew this piece. It’s also inspired by Mulsajo’s death. Now if we’re talking about a main side character dying, Mulsajo has it the worst. He is never mentioned again in season 1. If you didn’t pay attention you wouldn’t have noticed he died. He is only sort of mentioned in season 2 episode 1. Mulmangcho is in disguise as a squirrel making up stories about what the wolves did to him and his family. He mentions his twelve dead brothers and how they cut off his tail. You begin to realise that he’s talking about what Flower Hill did to him. Obviously the moral is to never trust strangers no matter what they tell you. But I like to view it as a rare sympathetic scene for Mulmangcho. If someone was to write a continuation of season 2 I would like to see them expand on that scene.
Also fan art idea to design Mulmangcho’s 11 other dead brothers?
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Last one up is Scout Gosemdouchi. Please don’t pay much attention to the plane. I really got to do some airplane studies. For the background I tried something more graphic and non literal. Lots of people I shown it to think he’s jumping out of the plane.
I actually have some trauma dumping I want to do. I swear it’s related to Squirrel and Hedgehog. If you don’t want to hear me whine about my catholic trauma then skip the next paragraph.
Alright then. Let’s get on with it. So I was like 8 years old. Our whole catholic school went to church. The priest starts preaching about this “real” story from China. The communists were cracking down on Christians. Some soldiers trashed a church. Taking special care the throw the Eucharist on the ground and stomp it with their muddy boots. Later a little girl would sneak into the boarded up church and lick the Eucharist off the ground. One day a soldier noticed her doing that AND SHOT HER ON SIGHT! Lesson? Be willing to die for your god.
I guess I like the cartoon because it reminds me of my childhood. LOL. Be sure to share your stories of childhood indoctrination in the comments! For real though, scout Gosemdouchi’s and Mulori’s deaths are to me the grossest parts of Squirrel and Hedgehog. Luckily I’ve got my head cannons that sort of fix that for me.
Originally this was the first picture I talked about but I found what I had to say was quite depressing. Plus religion is a touchy subject. I hope I didn’t offend anyone. I’m just talking about my own experiences. Also it’s good to have it off my chest. Now I don’t have to think about it anymore! YAY!
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lou-struck · 1 year
Text
Beyond the Sunset
Katsuki Bakugo x reader
~ The two of you head up to the mountains to watch the sunset.
~This is one of the requested prompts for My Emoticon Expression's Event; check out the masterlist On my welcome page.
WC: 1.5k
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Ever since your coworker told you about the amazing lookout point they found the other day, you have wanted to see it for yourself. This little mountain spot is apparently breathtaking any time of the day, but the sunset is the most ethereal.
You have been watching the weather all week long, waiting for the best night to make the drive, the past few days have been cloud-filled and dreary, but tonight there is not a cloud in the sky. Perfect.
You pack the car with enough snacks to put a bear through hibernation and toss in half a linen closet's worth of blankets in the back seat before you check off the last important item on your todo list; you have to convince your Pro Hero Boyfriend to make the drive up with you. Katsuki may appear to be a grumpy homebody, but in reality, he would never say no to an adventure with you, especially when you bat your eyes at him so sweetly.
He wouldn't tell you this, but watching the sunset with you sounds heavenly, and he is over the moon about your little road trip. 
Even if you happen to be the biggest passenger princess, there is.
~
Your shoes have long since been slipped off, and your fuzzy sock-clad feet are crossed over the front dash. And even though you have the AC cranked on full blast, your seat warmer is on high, making you feel even cozier.
"Oi, get your feet off my dash before I throw you in the trunk." your boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugo, scolds. "I don't even know why I'm the one driving; you're the one who wanted to drive up to these damn mountains."
And you know he's only worried about your safety, and so you remove your feet. "you are driving because you are a terrible passenger." You tease, reaching over to ruffle his spiky blonde hair.
It's true; your boyfriend has always been a terrible backseat driver. Sometimes you have to remind him that your eyes work just as well as his. You can see the stoplights, and you can read the road signs. But on trips like this, when the road gets bumpy and twists every which way, it's much easier to skip the headache and let him drive.
He bats your hand away with a small smile, turning his attention to a rather large pothole. He navigates around it easily, and often the distance, you can see the beginnings of the sun starting to set.
"Are we gonna make it?"
"Course we are, Dumbass," he replies affectionately, the nickname making you giggle as you round the corner. You can see the whole valley below you; a wide river flows between the highest mountain peaks, and the lush greenery seems to go on for miles. Already a few cars are pulled over in some of the dirt-covered lookout and hiking spots. 
"looks like we're gonna have to get out and watch it from over there. "He says, parking into a spot a bit farther away from the viewpoint. 
"how about we go over there? You point unbuckling your seatbelt towards the large wooden fence posts and the distance. They look more than sturdy enough to support the two of you. 
"If I get any splinters in my ass, I'm blaming you." He jokes, opening the driver-side door and sliding out of the vehicle.
"Katsuki, Wait for me!" You call, trying to slip your sneakers back onto your socked feet. The first one slide on easily, but you can't find your other shoe.
"You're hopeless; up you go," he grumbles, opening the passenger side door and scooping you up effortlessly into his arms. Now that you don't have to worry about finding your other shoe, he carries you over to the sturdy wooden barrier overlooking the valley. He sets you down and joins you on the beam just as the sky fills with the majestic sorbet of oranges, pinks, and purples.
The two of you sit side by side, just watching the sky, too enchanted by the beauty of it all to say anything.
The orange fades slowly into a reddish-pink color as a flock of white birds disappears over the horizon. The sky becomes darker and darker until that beautiful purple color darkens into the rich darkness of the night sky. 
"This is pretty cool, huh?" You ask, breaking the spell and nudging him playfully.
"It was cool," he relents softly, eyes still fixated on the sky. I'm glad we came up here."
"Me too,' no hum nuzzling into his side. His naturally warm body makes you more aware of just how chilly it is now that the sun has gone down.
You start to shiver, scooting along the wooden post to get closer to your boyfriend.
"I told ya to bring a coat or somethin, but you didn't want to listen to me, did you?" he scolds, unzipping his black jacket and pulling it from his beefy arms."
You laugh at taking the garnet from him. And wrap it around yourself. "Only because you take such good care of me, you big softie."
"Only to you," he mumbles softly; he says it so uncharacteristically tender it is almost drowned out by the evening breeze that whistles through the valley below.
You wouldn't dare tease him when he gets soft like this; his words feel as if another lawyer has been tricked carefully over you. Surrounding you with his signature burnt sugar scent that reminds you of home. I
The two of you stayed at that lookout point long after the sun had set. The stars seem to go on forever on that mountaintop. Twinkling in a way that you would never be able to see back in the city.
"I think it's time we head out," he says, scooping you and his jacket up. "you're going to catch a cold out here."
"I-I'm glad we were able t-to come out here." You shiver to burrow deeper into his jacket. 
"You had a good idea." He says, plopping you down in your seat. "we can find your shoe when we get home."
With that, he pulls out of your parking spot and turns back down towards the road. All of a sudden, Bakugo stops. "Wait, what the hell?" he mumbles, "It's how the hell are we supposed to get back?"
"What are you talking about? Can't we just ride the road we came in on"
He shakes his head no, "It's a one-way; we must be stuck in a loop. We'll have to finish it to get back to the main road."
"That sounds like so much fun, "you chirp happily. Being the passenger princess you are is just happy to be along for the ride and completely unbothered by the current predicament that the two of you are in.
"I just don't know how long this thing will take." He sighs. You know he's not upset; it's just that he doesn't like being unprepared in case something goes wrong.
"Babe, relax. We have a full tank of gas, and we have snacks for days. Everything will be just fine." You soothe, reaching over and rubbing gentle circles into his back. His tense muscles seem to relax under your touch.
"We're good." He says, at last, staring up again and driving down the road. 
Bakugo's features relax, and you go through the late-night drive. He hums along to the radio and is completely at peace. You're so relaxed that you feel as if you are getting to be a bit too comfortable.
Just as you see the main road approaching, you let a big yawn, blinking your heavy eyes a few times in an effort to stay awake.
"M' feelin' kinda tired."
"Are you really gonna make me carry you inside when we get home?" His voice is steady, soothing, when he responds.
"Mmmmhmmm," you hum, sinking deeper into the seat. A happy smile tugging at your lips. You can barely keep your eyes open at this point. Not that you're trying to. 
Bakugo's warm heavenly hand grabs your own. His calloused thumb rubs soft circles into your skin. Your last thought: It's like he is trying to lull you to sleep.
~
As you sleep softly in the passenger seat, Bakugo looks at you affectionately. It would've made your heart flutter if you were able to see the doughy look on his features and the warmth in his crimson gaze.
Goodnight, dumbass," he whispers, stroking your hair with a free hand. "You mean so much to me."
Off in the distance, he sees that familiar split onto the man road. Just as he is about to turn, he glances down at the gas gauge. He notices that he has more than enough fuel. 
With a shrug, he turns in the opposite direction and goes back into the scenic loop to enjoy its beauty one more time. 
He may not be a night owl by any means, but these late-night drives with you make him want to stay up a bit later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tagging: @tokyometronetwork
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casuallyimagining · 10 months
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When September Ends // epilogue.
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Min Yoongi x female reader
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Summary: Six years after leaving your home planet, you’re forced to confront your past… and the one you left behind.  Word Count: 2,032 Genre: Star Wars au, friends to enemies to lovers, angst Warnings: minor character death, survivor's guilt, yoongi has anger issues, mentions of the death of an entire planet, anxiety, alcohol, reader character suffers from the burden of high expectations, mentions of torture (nothing  explicit), mentions of needles, hospitalization, brief descriptions of scarring, brief descriptions of panic, hospitalization, an assassination attempt, a gun fight, murder
Notes: Thanks to @daechwitatamic and @the-boy-meets-evil for listening to me complain about this fic, helping me plan, and beta-ing for me; to @oddinary4bts for the late-game encouragement and edits.
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Playlist: All of the poetry in this fic has been pulled from various songs and poems. You can find all the songs (and some others) in the playlist that I made for this fic on Spotify.
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Daybreak is barely visible above the towering skyscrapers. You can barely make out the golden haze of the rising sun through the buildings, but it’s there, greeting you as you stand and wait for the morning transport. You sway a little on your feet, still a little drowsy without finishing your caf. You grip the metal cup in your hand tighter and take a sip, just as your other hand is squeezed. You lean into him–gently, he kisses the side of your head, just below your temple–and together, you listen to the sounds of the city-planet waking up.
The thrum of morning traffic surrounds you, the engines of the speeders and transports that zip between the buildings a cacophony of high-pitched whines and low-toned hums. Your building is nowhere near the starports, there are no mechanical roars, no ear-splitting throbbing that is so typical of interplanetary, long-range ships. No, the largest craft in this sector of the planet are the public transports and the boxy cargo barges that float between shops and warehouses like bumbling pollinator nano-droids.
There’s a daycare in your building, somewhere on the floors that stretch above you, and you can hear the sounds of children, grumpy to be awake so early in the morning, sad that their parents have once again left them with their caretakers. You feel for them. You, also, would rather be home in bed right now.
Your transport arrives unceremoniously–no rush of wind, no honk of a horn, just a relatively quiet downshift of the motor and the hiss of doors opening. You step into the transport, your right hand trailing behind you, fingers laced loosely in the grasp of the man that follows. 
It’s warmer in here than it was on the platform, the planet’s cold season just beginning to dig its claws in. And as you settle into a seat, you burrow your way into the man’s side to bask in his warmth, too. Yoongi chuckles softly and adjusts how he’s sitting so that you’re comfortable, and shifts his own caf to his other hand so that he can pull his datapad out of his bag.
His hand rests on your thigh, the caf he clutches is warm against your leg. He scrolls through the day’s news on his datapad, dark hair falling into his eyes as he reads. Normally, you’d read over his shoulder, humming when you were done and ready to move on to the next article. But today, you lean against him and look out the window.
You never thought you’d get used to living on Coruscant. Not least because the planet is just one large city, its surface covered from ground to what feels like the edge of space in endlessly tall buildings. But no, there’s something so different in the energies of the planets at the center of the galaxy. A kind of buzzing, restless energy that used to keep you up at night. Fest, though busy in its own right, was sleepy in comparison. And while you rarely got rest with the rebellion, your time there felt more like clawing your way back from the brink–desperate and hungry for something better. 
Here, though, life is easy. You enjoy it. Maybe that’s what you’d been reacting to, all those years ago.
When Commander Vela had approached you with the prospect of heading up the Imperial records dump and moving to Coruscant, you’d fought him. You wanted to be in the field. You wanted to finish what you’d started–you wanted to squash the remains of the Empire. The Emperor was dead, but his followers were still out there. Eventually, he’d worn you down. 
Or, more accurately–and more predictably–Yoongi had worn you down.
A safe place to land after a decade of interplanetary espionage was hard to pass up. A cushy job running a massive data library on a warm planet with any amenity you could dream of? You’d be an idiot to say no, he’d said. And how could you argue with that? Especially since he’d offered to come with you.
The transport slows outside of another building, and more people shuffle on. An older woman slides into the seat facing yours. Her dark skin is weathered and aged, but the most prominent lines on her face are on either side of her lips–such deep laugh lines have to indicate a long, happy life, right? She smiles at you warmly, her eyes drifting from you, to Yoongi, to where his hand rests on your thigh. Briefly, you wonder what she’s thinking, but you’re interrupted by Yoongi’s pinky rubbing against your knee. 
“Gonna be another late night,” he mumbles, angling his datapad slightly so that you can see the message he’s reading. You don’t even have to get too far into the missive before you come to what he’s referring to. “Twenty standard years of data,” Yoongi reads, and already, he sounds exhausted. 
He’s right, though. That data is getting transferred straight to you and your team. You sip your caf and sigh out, “Gonna need you to make me another one of these in like an hour.”
He laughs, dark eyes disappearing into happy crescents behind his glasses. “I can do that.” He leans in, lips brushing your hair quickly.
The old woman smiles, but you barely notice, your mind too preoccupied with the sudden influx of work now on your plate.
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The hand on your shoulder scares you. You place your hand on your chest in a helpless attempt to calm your pounding heart. There’s a soft ‘sorry’, and a gentle kiss placed to the top of your head as Yoongi massages your shoulders.
“Take a break,” he mumbles, nose pressing into your hair. “Come eat.”
It’s cute. He’s learned not to tell you to walk away, to hang it up for the night. He’s grown since the Academy, where he would tell you to end your studies for the night. Now, he’s transitioned into convincing you to take breaks and eat meals. You suspect partially because it’s easier–a way to save both of your sanities.
You sigh, push yourself away from your desk, rub your eyes. You’ve been staring at your monitor and your datapad for what feels like hours. It probably actually has been hours, because you can’t see sunlight through the slatted windows in your office. Yoongi’s fingers press into a knot in your shoulder and you groan, head lolling forward a little.
“Come on,” he coos, pulling you to your feet. You groan from the effort, muscles stiff and aching now that you’re actually using them. He tugs you forward and you let yourself fall into his arms. He hums, arms tightening around you. “How far’d you make it?”
“Not far enough.” Your voice is muffled as you bury your face into his shoulder.
His hands skim up and down your back–his touch is feather-light, yet it leaves fire in its wake. It’s been four years, and still, a simple, gentle touch from him leaves your skin tingling and your heart fluttering. Perhaps you haven’t grown so much since your teenage years, after all.
“You’ve done well.”
Slowly, he walks you out of your office, arms still around you as he guides you into the library’s employee galley. It must be late. There’s no way he’d act like this if any of the rest of your team was still there.
“I sent everyone home,” he says as he pulls out a chair for you, answering a question you hadn’t even asked. “They were done, for the most part. I finished up for them and figured we could do the rest together.”
Your team is not large–just five people not including you or Yoongi–and you oversee and organize naval data taken from the Empire’s records. You have analysts, encryption experts, historians, sociologists. And what you don’t know, you all learn together. You love your team, but sometimes, when you get slammed like this and the sheer volume of incoming data overwhelms you, you forget about them. They’re self-sufficient, and you work like a well-oiled machine, and it’s easy to get absorbed into your own little bubble of analysis and reports.
And in those moments, among almost any other moment in your day, you’re grateful that Yoongi is there to take care of what you can’t.
You shoot him a look that you hope conveys everything you’re feeling. Bless you. You’re amazing. Thank you for picking up my slack when I can’t. All of it. More. He simply kisses the top of your head and hands you a container of warm food. It smells delicious, and immediately, you know it’s take-away from your favorite place in the north sector. You sigh.
“I don’t deserve you.”
He hums. “Not true.”
There are moments like these where you feel a little twinge of guilt, the ghosts of your past still there, haunting you from the corners of your memories. You haven’t forgotten the fact that you’d left, nor the tenseness of your first weeks reunited. But you’ve come so far since then. It’s hard to believe that five years ago, you’d been so venomous and cold to each other. Looking at him now, at the doofy, gooey, honey-warm look he’s giving you, it’s almost hard to believe the journey you’ve been on together.
When you’re done eating, you sit together on the library floor, surrounded by the stacks of digitized records and books. They cast a cool, blue glow over the room, and you open the shades on the window so you can look out across the city-planet. Aside from your offices, the library is one large room, with stacks and terminals to navigate the information contained within. It’s on the 115th floor of the building, housed among other New Republic offices and resources, so the view out the windows–though you rarely see it–is something to marvel at.
Below you lights twinkle and shine like stars. It’s strange. You can’t see the stars above. Between Fest and the stations and ships of the rebellion, you’d gotten so used to seeing the stars. But you don’t mind them being gone. Coruscant is a marvel, especially at night, and there’s a certain beauty in watching the lights of the speeders and delivery trucks that run ‘round the clock as they buzz and weave around and through the buildings. It’s raining, and the falling drops only serve to make the lights glisten more.
You’re tucked into Yoongi’s side once again, legs resting over his own. He has one arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him. His thumb traces small patterns into the meat of your arm. His other arm–his left arm–rests across your legs. He hasn’t said anything, but you’re sure it’s bothering him. Physically, he’s completely healed from your final run-in with Grafner, save for a small scar, an angry silver against his otherwise lightly golden skin, and the ache that comes when there’s a change in weather.
He’s staring out the window, watching the rain roll down the windows. You watch him, admire the softness in the curves of his face, his button nose, the fluffiness of his hair. 
“Hey Yoon?” you breathe, finally breaking the silence of the moment. He hums, and it takes a brief second for him to pull his eyes away from the window to meet your own. Butterflies erupt, and your insides do an excited little flip-flop with the eye contact. “I love you.”
It’s not the first time you’ve said it–at this point, you’ve lost count–but the grin that spreads its way across his lips is just as shy and incredulous as it was back then. You can see the flush creep across his skin, a ruddy red-pink that blossoms up his neck and up to his ears. Usually, you might tease him about it, but today, you stay silent, instead reaching up to tuck an errant strand of dark hair behind his ear.
“I love you,” he repeats, leaning in to kiss your nose, then your forehead. He lingers there for a moment and he sighs, content. He pulls away slightly, lips finally meeting your own once, twice, three times. His eyes sparkle when they meet yours.
“What do we need to finish to go home?”
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so uh... that was the end. what do we think? I wanted to make sure we ended on a high note. I think mc and Yoongi deserve it after everything. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this and the entire fic! do we want more? I could see me coming back to this universe for some drabbles in the future. they're so much fun to write.
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bas-writes · 2 years
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a/n: *shakes depression by its collar* why does this thing always get into my way... should have been much earlier, for what I apologize, but here's the second entry for @onepiece-reader-exchange that I've been chewing on for weeks *clears throat* anyway, it's here and I hope y'all will enjoy!
Stolen Crumbs of Kisses
Character: Smoker Reader: gender neutral CW: fluff, established relationship, tooth-roting fluff, fluff without plot Word Count: 1336 Synopsis: Smoker, a man born to live behind the polar circle, hasn’t been fond of your warmth-seeking tendencies since they appeared in your relationship. Even now, he sits in nothing but sweatpants, not a single trace of goosebumps on his skin, not a single digit tracing your side turned ice-cold. You can’t blame him for bolting from your dream nest. But you still missed him, your body awakened as soon as it sensed his side of the bed empty. Written for: @bulle-blackhole
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“It’s late.”
Smoker’s gaze barely flicked over the book before returning to its prior place, not a crumb of word given in response. Your presence has been equally accepted and ignored, as if you were a vase someone put in the mess. Frankly, you expected as much, when he was having his time, nothing less than a tropical storm could lure him out of his safe, cozy and silent sphere. So, you repeat yourself, louder this time, with a perfectly calculated creak of the door frame you leaned against.
His eyes linger on you for longer, eyebrows knit together, but the words don’t come out as irritated, “And so?”
“You’re not asleep.” Adjusting the blanket on your shoulders, you decide to step inside. It’s warmer than the rest of the ship, even your shared cabin, but still the dampness of air gives you chills. After the incident of Alabasta you were given a different ship, more sturdy and heavily armed, but her warming system was far from good.
“Well, so you are.” Smoker watches you out of the corner of his eye, lets out a muffled, grumbling sound as you lean over the chair, trying to peek into the book. “You should be in bed. Not here.”
“You don’t like me here?” Cooing innocently, you fight over every inch of his personal space, step by step crumbling his grumpy resistance until he finally leans back enough for you to slip into his lap.
“At this hour—” he generously lets you squirm and jostle until you fit your frame, together with the blanket, as you please— “I like you better in bed.”
“Well, I could say the same about you.” Much to his displeasure, expressed with a loud huff, you take his reading glasses off. They left a little mark at the base of his nose, and you simply can’t stop yourself from kissing it.
Smoker growls louder but doesn’t push you away. If it was earlier, he would be more against such a shameless demonstration of affection—after all, one of his men, or Davy Jones Tashigi, could walk on you—but so late at night the risk is so little that he can lower his guard. 
“You turned the bed into a goddammit nest.” He, finally, breaks and wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you closer. You accept the offer with a very pleased sigh, extra warmth and a cushion—his chest and its delicious softness of relaxed muscles—always appreciated. And especially now, in the hellish vortex of winter island sea. 
Whatever you had been thinking about your cold tolerance, everything was thrown out of the consideration once you tasted what Grandline really meant. If you could, you would stuff even a fire type logia user between the layers of blankets and duvets, everything to provide an extra crumble of warmth. 
Smoker, a man born to live behind the polar circle, hasn’t been fond of your warmth-seeking tendencies since they appeared in your relationship. Even now, he sits in nothing but sweatpants, not a single trace of goosebumps on his skin, not a single digit tracing your side turned ice-cold. You can’t blame him for bolting from your dream nest. But you still missed him, your body awakened as soon as it sensed his side of the bed empty.
“It feels weird without you.” You word your concerns, resting cheek against his pecs. Soft, quite thick hair, as white as on his head, tickles your nose, and his heartbeat rumbles in your ears. Your favorite place to be, serene and welcoming, full of his scent and touch. 
Smoker doesn’t answer you immediately. Lost in silence, he traces aimless lines on your side, from the hip to shoulder and back, the other hand twitching uneasily. He’s looking for a cigar, but his will is stronger than the addiction. He promised to not smoke when you’re being so close, so he keeps to his promise. Even if a draw would help him find the right words. They don’t come easy to him, even after all this time you’re together. 
Finally, both arms wrap around you as he leans back, prison of the hold as strong as loving, “Sorry. Thought you were asleep.”
“You don’t need much to abandon me, hm?” You tease, not without a smirk as you hear him groaning. 
“Y/N—” he rolls eyes, hands squeezing you with affection and equally teasing warning— “just wanted to read a book.”
“You could do it in bed.”
“And wake you up?”
“Well—” You jab his chest. “—as you can see, I’m awake anyway.”
A heavy sigh and, after a longer consideration, a kiss pressed to the top of your head is, what you’ve thought, his answer, but soon after, shy and silent, and embarrassed to holy heavens, he whispers, “I guess, this means I have to…take the punishment, yes?”
Surprised, you peel away from his chest, now face to Smoker’s red, flustered face, and slightly panicked eyes, studying you with wary attention. “Did you just—”
“Forget it.” He avoids your gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “Forget I said it.”
“Did you willingly ask me to punish you?”
“I told you to forget it!” He almost snaps, his baritone nearly breaking in panic. “O-or do it, now. And quickly.”
You can’t help a little chuckle. He still can’t ask for affection in a normal way, this overgrown, grumpy dumbass. “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice. I need to severely punish you for your insubordination, Commodore Smoker.”
He grouses, almost whines, your name, but it quickly molds into a pleased sigh, when your lips begin “the punishment”. You start from his chest, barely pressing them to his skin, affection softer than the layer of hair in between. Now the goosebumps appear, they graze you as you work your kisses up, along the crook of his neck and further. There’s nothing heated about them, you’re as innocent as you possibly can, but his arms tighten around you the closer you get to his jaw. By the time you kiss his cheeks, giggling at the sensation of the light, evening scruff, he’s nearly trembling, the need to hide his embarrassment and save his dignity fighting the love for your touch. The latter always wins once your lips meet. With the last, desperate groan, Smoker lets the barrage of kisses swallow him and answers your ministration, in the same, deliciously sweet manner, his tongue darting out only for a split second, as if to steal a taste of you before you continue with your kissy assault.
You love this moment, when his distance crumbles, and he relaxes, melts even, in your arms, letting you do as you please. He doesn’t even roll eyes anymore, having them closed, his face as red as serene. If only you could take a photo of him right now…
“Fuck, Y/N… Are you happy now?” Even his voice can’t be stern anymore, even if he tries so hard. 
“Would be happier in bed.” You press one last kiss, on his lips again, and move out of his reach, before he can grab it and mold it as he wants. He likes to have his way, even if it’s but a whine of an animal who tries to be bigger than it is, but you’re not having any of this right now. “With you. I need my personal body pillow.”
“You will boil me alive.” The resistance is futile, and he knows it well, keeping his grumpy attitude just for the sake of pride. His arms are ready to scoop you up, soon having you in the air, wrapped tight in the blanket, and thrown over a shoulder.
“I can walk,” your protest is as fake as his, words drowning in giggles when he gives you a playful spank and shuts the light off with an elbow. 
“If I could stand your goddammit ticklish tortures, then you can stand playing a bag of potatoes for a minute.”
“You’re such a romantic.”
“Everything for you, my love.”
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