#I'm so sorry again I'm a bit melancholy

[serawritesthings]

hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in. 

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man. 

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth. 

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body. 

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger. 

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject. 

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.” 

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll. 

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door. 

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur. 

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose. 

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look. 

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure. 

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach. 

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn. 

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn���t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West. 

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours. 

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing. 

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff. 

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height. 

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much. 

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?” 

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work. 

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words. 

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled. 

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.” 

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving. 

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway. 

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite. 

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby. 

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people. 

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears. 

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable. 

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes. 

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls. 

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-” 

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did. 

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture. 

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes. 

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being. 

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle. 

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him. 

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips. 

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something. 

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground. 

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm. 

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch. 

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.” 

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking. 

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck. 

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own. 

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him. 

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh. 

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers. 

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night. 

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval. 

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions. 

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.” 

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him. 

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck. 

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else. 

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you. 

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control. 

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements. 

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before. 

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face. 

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly. 

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you. 

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come. 

“Are you jealous of Charles?” 

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled. 

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs. 

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.” 

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him. 

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

[littlejuicebox]

Milk.

Back again for the third time today, this time with some porn with a plot.

I'm really on one with the Dadstarion fics. Something has been unleashed inside me, people.

I need to edit all these headers at some point.

Warnings: babies, angst w comfort, smut, nipple play, breast milk, breast milk drinking, breeding kink, daddy kink, teasing, dirty talk, a bit of soft dom Astarion vibes, 18+ only please

A/N: Most of you already know I'm a degenerate.

-----

Astarion had been uncharacteristically melancholy this week.

Sure, it wasn’t unusual to witness him in one of his moods of irritation or frustration, particularly when some business deal or another was not going particularly well, or a contract he’d already drafted more times than he could count came back to him with more rebuttals.

But to witness this cloud of sadness around your husband, especially after Gale’s birth, was odd. He’d been the picture of domestic joy and fatherhood, completely over the moon in his new role. He even wore the sleeplessness better than you in the first few months, happy to assist where he could so that his little love could get more valuable rest.

However, just recently, his mood had become detached and distant. Everything he did and said seemed tinged with worry or sadness. It reminded you of the spawn version of Astarion from several years ago, almost always caught in a poor memory or concerning line of thought. That version of Astarion hadn’t shown up in a while. You couldn’t be sure what triggered it.

“Gale’s getting quite good at holding his head up,” You inform your husband as you crawl into bed with him after just putting the three-month-old down for the evening.

“That’s wonderful news, darling.” Astarion replies, with that same distant, pensive air he’s addressed you with all week as he focuses on the book in his lap.

You sigh, and put your hand over the book, obscuring the pages and forcing the elf to acknowledge you, “What is it, Astarion? You’ve been in this… mood all week and I’m beginning to worry you’re regretting parenthood.”

Your husband’s eyebrows crinkle as he places the book on his nightstand, staring at you with a mixture of shock, hurt and confusion, “Darling, do you truly think that? What have I done besides absolutely dote on Gale? And on you!”

You realize you’ve misspoken. You see the wounds on your husband’s face as he assesses you, and your hands come to his cheeks, searching his eyes, “No, no I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I know you don’t regret Gale… I just. I’m worried, Astarion. You seem… sad. Lost in thought in a way I haven’t seen in years and… I don’t know why.”

There is a moment of silence as Astarion’s eyes flash through several thoughts, filtering through a week's worth of garbled noise within his mind. And then he sighs, “I…” he pauses and blinks, forcing himself to meet your gaze, “I’m worried that I won’t be the right masculine role model for Gale. That I’m not strong enough to show him… to show him how to be a good man.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. You cannot even think of something to say, because this certainly wasn’t the direction you thought Astarion would take. He was always quite self-assured in his talents and never hesitant to be the true version of himself after the parasite fiasco over a decade ago.

He continues, “I don’t live in the woods, or whatever it is exactly Halsin does. I’m not an especially talented spell caster like Gale. And I’m fair with a blade but it’s been years since I’ve had use for one and I don’t have the level of training nor regular practice like Wyll nowadays, dear. I review contracts and make investments; I run the winery. I embroider. I’m not exactly the picture of masculinity in comparison to… others.”

There is a moment of quiet between the two of you. Concerned tears form in your husband’s eyes, which he quickly blinks away.

“Astarion… you are the strongest man I know.” You murmur, running a finger along the elf’s cheek as he scoffs and shakes his head. His eyes jerk away from your face; clearly, he does not believe you.

You gasp in shock as you cup his face harder, willing the elf to understand how serious you are. You continue, vehemently, “My love. You cannot seriously believe otherwise! You have endured more than any of us could ever imagine. Over 200 years of… horrible atrocities. And then you came out on the other side of that, after having sacrificed so much — and Astarion, do not ever forget how much you willingly sacrificed — to be better. To choose differently. To be so much more.”

You are ripping the blankets away and crawling into your husband’s lap now, wrapping your limbs around his torso. His head comes to the side of your neck as you hold him, hoping to convey the love and respect you have for the elf with the warmth of your arms. Your fingers latch into the curls on the back of his neck as you speak in a reverent whisper, urging him to believe you.

“I watched you endure years without the sun in more stride than I could have possibly thought. And you are perhaps softer than you were when we met, yes. But this version of you gives me and Gale everything we need and more. I cannot imagine someone stronger or more courageous than you, my love. And I think you have forgotten how much strength it took for you to become this soft in the first place. I love this version of you. And Gale has a wonderful, loving, strong father in this version. Please do not ever doubt that.”

A quiet hum of acknowledgement comes from your husband, but no other words escape him as he lifts his head from the crook of your neck and envelopes your lips in a soft kiss. A thank you.

Your heart is pounding from the passion with which you spoke, and when Astarion’s lips press into yours, that passion and love begins to flow throughout your body. Pieces of you start to wake.

It had been a while since you two were intimate. Not since before Gale's birth. Days and nights had recently been filled with parenthood and left little time nor energy for much else. But as Astarion pushes forward, wrapping his arms around your back, you feel the stirrings of desire deep in your core. A soft moan leaves you as a fire begins to grow where mere glowing embers had been left several months ago.

Astarion must be feeling the same pull, because his hand trails from your back and sneaks under your nightdress to brush along your thigh. He slowly traces up the length of your leg to cup your bottom while he deepens the kiss with a soft, breathy moan of his own. He’s flexing his hips up toward you, the growing bulge in his trousers begging for further stimulation. Your lover’s tongue swipes along your lower lip, asking for entry, and your mouth opens to accept the swirling heat of desire from the elf.

He explores your mouth and caresses your bottom for a while, tenderly, slowly, and in no rush to further things along despite the mutual growing desire between your two bodies. It’s you that finally breaks the kiss before ripping your night dress over your head, exposing two heavy, milk-laden breasts in the process. Astarion brings the hand not kneading into your ass to cup your breast before thumbing the pert nipple.

You gasp, and your husband’s brows crinkle for a moment as he pauses his ministrations.

“Too sensitive?” He asks, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your other breast.

“No, keep going,” You urge him, closing your eyes and rolling your hips forward to grind into his groin. He bucks forward to meet you instinctively.

He tentatively thumbs the nipple again and you moan in response. Without thinking much about it, Astarion brings his mouth to the other breast and wraps his lips around the bud before sucking gently. You release an ecstatic keen in response when his teeth graze against the tender flesh. You are continuing to roll your hips into him when he suddenly retracts from your chest with a shocked gasp.

Your eyes snap open, and you catch the final glimpse of your husband wiping breast milk from the side of his mouth as his cheeks and ears slowly turn pink. And then you feel your own embarrassment growing as rosy patches flush across your chest and cheeks. You quickly move to cover your breasts.

“I-I’m sorry,” You whisper, “it slipped my mind. I forgot about the…”

You’re thinking the moment’s ruined, and moving to climb off your husband, but he quietly brings his hand to your waist and stills you. His eyes search yours silently for a moment, and you’re still so consumed by your own embarrassment that all you can do is stare dumbly back at him, eyebrows furrowed.

But then Astarion lifts one of his hands to your own, slowly lowering it from where it had been covering your breast. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he once again leans forward and wraps his lips around the nipple, sucking gently. Warm milk flows into his mouth and you inhale sharply, unable to look away as your husband removes his lips from your breast, opens his mouth to show you the white liquid, and then closes his mouth and swallows.

He swallows.

And then he smirks up at you with a self-satisfied, mischievous glint in his eyes that causes the slickness between your legs to instantly double.

Gods, this man.

You are convinced your entire body is flushing red at this point as Astarion slowly brings his other hand up to palm the flesh of your breast.

“Would you like daddy to do it again?” He purrs before his tongue laps circles around the side of your heavy tit.

“I— gods, yes.” You respond, blinking down at the elf.

“Okay. But you have to ask me very, very nicely, little love.” He responds teasingly as he trails kisses to your other breast, waiting for you to say something.

“Please suck my nipple,” You whisper, eagerly rolling your groin into your husband's raging erection.

But Astarion doesn’t do what he’s asked. Instead, he’s teasing the bud with the flat of his tongue and humming contentedly, waiting for something from you.

“Please suck my nipple, daddy.” You amend, and the elf instantly engages his lips around your other breast with a soft groan. He’s drinking with vigor as your hands find the curls at the nape of his neck and take hold. Before long he’s retracting again, his mouth full of liquid gold.

And he pulls the same maneuver. Mouth open, flashing the white liquid as he looks directly into your eyes. Mouth closed. Swallow. Devious smile.

“It’s delicious, you know.” He murmurs as you stare at him, still in shock and still somewhat embarrassed by the fact that you are actually enjoying this. His hands come to either breast, both now significantly lighter, and he fondles the soft tissue.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised that you like this darling, I distinctly remember a time when I made you orgasm by mere nipple play alone.” He whispers, a glint of that cocky rogue playing across his face before he trails kisses up your chest and along your neck.

“Gods, Astarion,” You respond, “I need you inside me, now.”

You’re done with the foreplay. Your husband has you ridiculously hot and bothered, and it’s been far, far too long. You're on your knees, which are straddled on either side of his hips as you urgently tug at the waistband of his trousers, trying to work his pants and underclothes off in one motion. But your husband is purposely resisting and refusing to lift his hips, watching you with that same arrogant smile.

Oh, he's toying with you.

“Darling, why am I always the one dirty talking you?” He asks, pulling back from your neck and cocking his head just slightly as he studies your face.

“I— what?” You ask, still pulling insistently at his waistband.

“I’m always the one charming the pants off of you, dear. In over ten years, it’s never really been the other way around. But you know that I love to hear your beautiful words.” He continues, moving one of his hands to stroke between your still-clothed folds.

“Astarion, please fuck me.” You try as you struggle to keep your composure. The slickness of your cunt is making obscene noises as he expertly maneuvers between your slit, watching your expression attentively as you come undone.

He chuckles darkly as he brings his lips to your breast once again, trailing kisses along the side of the flesh, “I think you can do better than that, my love.”

You groan in dismay as the bastard continues to tease you. Several months without sex and somehow you’re still the desperate one while he’s effortlessly maintaining his cool.

“What do you want daddy to do to you, darling?” He purrs, teasingly, as his other hand that isn’t stroking between your legs trails across your skin to fondle your ass once again.

“I want you to fuck me and fill me with your seed.” You whine as his ministrations on your clit become more insistent. You’re trying to play into his desires, to convince him to stretch you open with his thick cock.

Your legs are trembling now. He’s going to make you come embarrassingly fast. You know it. He knows it.

“Won’t you beg me, my love?” He murmurs as his eyes trail across your chest, admiring your larger-than-usual breasts before his gaze locks back onto yours, fingers still strumming your clit, now adding more pressure, “You know I love to hear your sweet little pleas.”

“Please— Astarion. Please, daddy. Please fuck me. Breed me like your good little wife and fill me with—“

You gasp and then moan as your orgasm rips through you with little warning, drenching your husband’s hand in your arousal. The release causes your legs to turn into jelly, and Astarion uses the opportunity to quickly maneuver you into a new position. You are sitting on the side of the bed, and he is now standing, quickly lowering his trousers.

His cock springs free, and the sight causes your eyes to widen in shock. It’s so engorged that the head is slowly turning from that gorgeous pink to a deep purple, begging for release. Thin rivulets of pre-cum are falling in strings from the tip; much of his shaft is glistening from the same evidence of his arousal.

Astarion glances down at his own erection and then warns, “It’s been a while darling, not quite certain how long I will last.”

“Just get inside me already, daddy.” You plead and that’s enough to make your husband growl as he strokes his own member once, twice, prepping himself. He peels your drenched undergarments down your legs and tosses them aside.

As Astarion’s cock slides between your folds you gasp. Gods, it really has been too long. And then he’s pressing into you slowly, groaning deeply with the amount of effort it’s taking him to not release his spend right upon entry into your tight cunt. When he reaches the hilt, the elf stills for a moment and lowers himself down to kiss your lips before pressing his forehead against yours. And then Astarion is slowly rolling his hips, his mouth hanging open in a gasp at the delicious sensation of your walls clenching around him before he closes his eyes to focus.

It isn’t long before he's losing control. Your husband normally prides himself on being a consummate lover; it’s quite typical that he brings you to orgasm twice before finding his own release. But it has been quite some time and perhaps holding off in an attempt to hear your pleas wasn’t as easy for him as it appeared on the outside.

“Gods, darling. You feel so perfect.” The elf pants, almost breathless, his hips stuttering as he jerkily thrusts into you, trying and failing to maintain some rhythm as the pleasure overwhelms him, “So perfectly wet and tight.”

“Come inside me, daddy.” You whisper as you bring your hand to the side of Astarion’s face.

The command shocks him. Like you, he’s suddenly coming with very little warning. His eyes rip open as he’s spilling into you with a loud groan, his cock jerking inside your walls where he’s instinctively buried himself to the hilt.

“Fuck-- gods, Tav--" He hisses through the waves of pleasure racking his body as his eyes roll back. His thighs are trembling as his member continues to throb, spilling several streams of hot, thick seed into you as you watch his face in awe. Mouth agape, cheeks flushed. You love the way he looks when he loses control.

You smile and kiss your husband gently as he comes down from his high, your hand stroking his cheek. And then he’s laughing and pressing his forehead back against yours. A few of his curls fall haphazardly and you reach up to lovingly comb them back into place.

“You are… still full of surprises, aren’t you?” Astarion asks as he slowly withdraws from you, causing the slickness from your lovemaking to run down your thighs and into the sheets.

“I thought you would like it,” You offer shyly, now somewhat embarrassed at your own crassness as the tides of passion recede.

“Oh, I certainly did, darling.” Your lover reassures you as he bends down to retrieve his trousers from the floor, "You cheeky little degenerate."

Just then, Gale lets out a sharp cry from the nursery. You move to stand up, but your husband stops you with a gentle hand and a soft, adoring smile.

“I’ll go and get him. Don’t waste the seed still inside you, dear. Give it a few more precious moments to try and do its thing, hm?” Astarion says, partly teasing and partly serious as he shoots you a wink before heading out the bedroom door to retrieve the infant.

This one won’t take, you know as much. You aren’t ovulating. But as you watch the love of your life exit the room on his way to retrieve the other love of your life, you think you may actually be ready to start trying for another one sometime soon. You know Astarion is simply waiting for your cue.

Anything for daddy. 

[citysuk]

echoes of us | anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!reader

summary: anakin has spent the last four years away from you, consumed by his duties as a jedi, trying to move past the pain of your departure. although seeing you again wasn't something that he was expecting, the reunion leads to a tense confrontation, where anakin's deep-seated feelings clash with his lover's sense of duty, highlighting the tragic consequences of their forbidden relationship.

words: 7,1k words (oops)

warnings: please, you already know me so ANGST. kinda manipulative anakin¿ only a little bit. stubborn reader for the sake of the plot, i'm sorry (i'm not). a little bit of spicy hehehhe. no smut tho. no use of y/n but no oc neither. no proofread. i won't say a word about the finale so read to know what happens at the end 😤

notes: i just- (SATURATED SCREAMS). i'm on a star wars binge and i just couldn't help myself, i needed to write this. all i want in life is someone to love me like anakin loves her.

It's been four long years since you left, and Anakin Skywalker has tried to move on with his life. He throws himself into his duties as a Jedi, taking on more missions and responsibilities. He pushes himself to his limits and beyond, trying to forget about the pain of losing you. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to shake the memories. You're always there, lurking in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of what he lost. His heart still aches for you, and he still feels a sense of emptiness inside him.

As the years have passed, he has become more stoic, more reserved. He barely smiles anymore, and his laugh is rare. His fellow Jedi see these changes in him and wonder what has happened to make him so serious and cold. But Anakin keeps his emotions buried deep inside, never letting them surface, never letting anyone see the pain he's feeling. He's become a shadow of his former self, the bright-eyed and carefree Padawan replaced by a hardened and withdrawn Jedi Knight.

As the Clone Wars rage on, Anakin throws himself into battle, fighting with a ferocity and intensity that borders on feral. He's become a skilled and feared warrior, known for his bravery and skill, but also for his ruthless efficiency and lack of mercy towards his enemies. Even his fellow Jedi, the ones who are closest to him, cannot penetrate the shell he’s built around himself. He hides his emotions so well that it’s as if they don’t exist anymore, and no one suspects the depth of the pain he’s carrying inside him. He still feels your loss like a physical wound, and he fears that it will never heal. But he cannot let himself think of it, cannot allow himself to dwell on the past. He has a duty to the Jedi Order and the Republic, and longing can distract him from that.

So he goes through the motions of being a Jedi, fighting in the war, protecting the innocent, and doing his best to serve the greater good. But deep down, he knows that he'll never be truly happy again, that he'll carry his pain to the grave.

There are times, when he’s alone in the darkness of night, that he lets his guard down, that is when he allows his emotions to surface. And in those moments, he allows himself to think of you, to remember the happy times you had together, to ache for what might have been. But then, as the night ends and the morning comes, he pushes those thoughts away, locking them back up inside him, and he goes back to being the stoic and reserved Jedi Knight that everyone expects him to be.

And the cycle of pain and loneliness continues day after day, year after year. He keeps on living, fighting, and serving, but deep down, he knows that a part of him will always be empty, the part that you took when you left.

He wonders sometimes if you ever think of him and if you ever reflect on your time together with the same sense of melancholy and regret that he does. But he doesn’t allow himself to hope for that. It’s better to just keep pushing forward, to keep fighting the war and doing his duty.

That's until he hears the news that your father is coming to visit the Order. His heart skips a beat it's the first thing that he feels. He knows that since you went back to your planet your father never travels without you by his side, and this won't be the exception. His mind reels at the possibility of seeing you again. It’s been four years since you left to help your father in his political arrangements. Four long and lonely years. The thought of being in your presence again, even for a brief moment, fills him with a mix of emotions. Anticipation and dread, hope and fear.

He tries to keep his emotions in check, not wanting to get his hopes up too high. The idea of seeing you again after all this time is too good to be true. Besides, he knows that there is a small chance that you will not come to the temple, but he decides to embrace the possibility of at least seeing you.

When the masters of the Order confirmed that you would arrive with your father, he couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline running through his whole body. There's gotta be some sort of catch in this whole situation. But the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it and needs it.

As the day of your arrival approaches, he can't help but feel anxious. He doesn't know what to expect, how he'll react when he sees you. Will he be able to keep his emotions in check? Or will they surface in a wave of longing and regret? He tries to prepare himself, to steel himself for the moment. He tells himself it's just a visit, that it doesn't mean anything. But deep down, he knows that's not true. He's been waiting for this moment for years, and he can't deny the excitement and anticipation that's building inside him.

When the day finally arrives, he waits anxiously in the Temple, trying to remain calm. But his heart is racing, his palms are sweaty, and he can barely keep still. He's acutely aware of every passing moment, every second that brings him closer to seeing you again. His fellow Jedi notice his change in demeanor. He's usually so stoic and collected, but now he's jittery and restless, out of character for him. They wonder what could be causing this change, and they eye him with curious and sometimes amused glances. But Anakin ignores them, his thoughts solely focused on the moment ahead. He rehearses different scenarios in his head, trying to figure out how he’ll act when he sees you. But no matter how he imagines it, he can’t quite predict what will happen. The thought of facing you again after so long both thrills and terrifies him.

And then, finally, the moment arrives. He sees you walking through the Temple, in the company of your father and a few other dignitaries. The sight of you takes his breath away. You’ve grown, your features more mature and defined. But the sight of you holding the hand of another young politician he heard being called Kenth Cardas it's what makes him feel sick to the stomach. His heart clenches as he watches you, a sudden realization hitting him like a knife to the heart. You’re with someone else. Another man. And the pain that washes over him is sharper and more intense than any pain he’s ever felt before.

It takes all his willpower to keep his composure, to keep the expression of his face neutral. But inside, he’s seething with jealousy and hurt. He had been hoping, even expecting, for you to be single.

The thought of another man’s hands on you, another man’s eyes taking in your beauty, it’s almost too much for him to bear. He watches as you, your father, and your companion make your way through the Temple, greeting the Jedi and discussing diplomatic matters. Every step you take, every word you utter, it feels like the knife is being twisted in his heart. He wants to walk up to you, to pull you away from the other man and take you for himself. But he knows that’s not an option. You’re not his. You never were.

The scene is too abhorrent for him, he cannot bear another second of seeing you with another man that isn't him. With a lump in his throat and tears of frustration pricking at his eyes, Anakin turns and strides away from the scene, the sound of your laugh following him as he goes. He can’t stay there, can’t watch you pretending to be happy with someone else. It’s too painful, too agonizing. He needs to get away, to be alone, and try to process the torrent of emotions that threatens to overwhelm him. He heads to one of the quieter parts of the Temple, a place where he can be alone and try to get his emotions under control. He leans against the cold stone wall, his hands clenching into fists. He tries to push the image of you with another man out of his mind, but it’s burned into his memory, seared into his eyeballs. He’s never felt this level of jealousy and hurt before, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He feels like he’s unraveling like everything he’s worked to keep under control is suddenly slipping through his fingers. He punches the wall in impotent rage, the pain in his knuckles a welcome distraction from the pain in his heart. He wants to scream, to shout, to let out all the emotions that are boiling inside him. He stays still there for a few minutes which seems like hours, until he feels a presence behind him.

He turns, his heart racing as he senses who it is. And sure enough, there you are, standing a few feet away from him, looking at him with a mixture of concern and uncertainty. An uncomfortable silence settles between them as they stare at each other. The air is thick with emotion and tension, and Anakin feels his heart thudding in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to react.

He studies you as you stand there, his eyes roving over your face, taking in every detail. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers, but there’s a sense of sadness and resignation in your eyes that he doesn’t quite understand. He wants to say something, to break the silence that hangs between you like a thick fog. But the words stick in his throat, and he can’t force them out. Instead, he just stands there, staring at you like an idiot.

Taking a deep breath, you break the silence, your voice soft and hesitant. “Ani... Can I talk to you? For a moment.”

Anakin nods, barely able to speak. His heart is racing, his mind spinning. He can’t believe you’re really standing here in front of him, that he’s actually talking to you again after all this time. “Of course,” he manages to say, his voice rough and raspy.

You take another step closer, the distance between you feeling like an eternity. You look up at him, your eyes searching his face as if you’re looking for something. “It’s been a long time, you've grown,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods again, feeling a lump in his throat. He wants to tell you how much he’s missed you, how many nights he’s spent thinking of you, yearning for you. But the words won’t come. He’s scared, scared to show you the depth of his feelings, scared that you’ll reject him. “Yeah, it has,” he manages to reply, his voice flat and emotionless.

You notice his tone, the way he’s putting up his walls, trying to keep his emotions in check. You know him too well, you can sense how he was feeling, the storm of emotions raging inside him. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how he’s willing to suffer in silence rather than admit his true feelings. You take another step closer, closing the distance between you even further. You reach out to touch his arm, your hand tentative and gentle, like you’re handling a wild animal. He freezes at your touch, his breath catching in his throat. He can feel the heat of your hand through the fabric of his sleeve, the warmth of your touch seeping into his skin. He wants to reach out and pull you to him, bury his face in your hair, and breathe in your scent. But he stands still, frozen in the moment, unable to move. You can feel his tension, the way his body is coiled tight like a spring. But you can also see the flicker of emotions in his eyes, the way his walls are crumbling as he stares at you. You know that underneath the hard exterior, there’s a part of him that’s aching to be let out, yearning for affection and connection.

You move closer still, your hand still gently resting on his arm. You’re so close now that he can feel your breath on his skin, the warmth of your body almost touching his. He shivers involuntarily, overwhelmed by your proximity. He wants to pull you to him, to hold you tight, and never let you go. He looks down at you, his eyes roving over your face, taking in every detail. He notices the flecks of gold in your eyes, the slight blush on your cheeks, the curve of your lips. It’s all he can do to keep his composure, to keep his emotions in check. But seeing you this close to him, feeling your touch on his skin, it’s like a dam breaking inside him. He takes a shuddering breath, trying to steady himself. He wants to tell you how much he’s missed you, how much he’s still in love with you, and how much he’s been hurting since you left. But the words won’t come, stuck in his throat like they’re glued there.

He’s torn between the conflicting desires to push you away and to pull you closer. Part of him wants to protect himself from further hurt, but a greater part of him is desperate to have you close, to feel your touch, and to hear your voice. He stands there, caught in an agony of indecision, his heart and his mind warring with each other. He wants to do the right thing, the sensible thing. But when it comes to you, he’s never been able to do what’s smart or pragmatic. He’s always been guided by his emotions, and right now, his emotions are screaming at him to take what he wants, consequences be damned. He can feel his resolve weakening, the walls he’s built around his heart crumbling. He’s always been a man of action, but right now, he doesn't know what to do.

You look up at him, your heart racing in your chest. You can sense the turmoil inside him, the storm of emotions raging in his eyes. You know that he’s struggling to keep his composure, but you also know how much he’s hurting. You take a deep breath, summoning up the courage to say what you need to say. “Ani, I didn’t forget the time we spent together, the promises we made.”

His eyes widen at your words, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn’t expected you to say that, to admit that you’ve been thinking of him all this time. He feels a surge of hope and longing rise in his chest, his breath catching in his throat. You pressed on, your voice was soft but firm. “The friendship we maintained for so many years will always be marked in my mind, no matter where I am.”

He feels his heart skip a beat at your words. It’s what he’s wanted to hear for so long, the confirmation that you still think of him, that there’s still a chance for them.

He stands there, frozen in the moment, caught between the desire to pull you to him and the fear that if he does, it will only end in heartbreak. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to react. He feels like he’s in a dream like this isn’t happening.

He looks down at you, his eyes roving over your face. He sees the honesty and vulnerability you’re showing him. He wants to believe you, he wants to let himself hope. But he can’t shake the feeling that this is just a cruel trick, the vision of you holding that man's hand it's something that he can't shake off his head. He feels that he’s going to wake up any minute and find himself alone again.

He starts to pull away, his walls going up again. “I don’t believe you,” he says, his voice cold and distant.

Your eyes widen at his words, your heart sinking at the tone of his voice. You had expected some resistance, but you didn’t expect him to deny your feelings outright. "What I'm saying it's truthful, I never stopped thinking about you"

He shakes his head, his eyes hard and cold. He wants to push you away, to protect himself from the pain. “I don’t want to hear it,” he says gruffly. “It’s too late, it’s been four years. You made your choice when I asked you to stay but you left.”

You blink back tears at his words, the hurt and anger in his voice like a knife to your gut. You had hoped that he would understand, that he would see how much you still cared for him. “You know that what we were feeling exceeded friendliness and was wrong, the attachments are prohibited. This was for something bigger than you and me both,” you say, looking at him almost guilty.

He scoffs at your words, his anger rising. “Don’t talk to me about attachments. I know the Code, I know about the stupid rules. But don’t tell me that what we had meant anything to you since you come here now holding another man's hand.” Anakin is seething with jealousy now, his hands clenching into fists. The thought of you with another man, another man touching you and holding you, it’s more than he can bear. He wants to grab you and shake you, to make you understand how much the sight of you with someone else hurts him.

He takes a step closer, looming over you. He’s taller and stronger than you, and he towers above you, his presence intimidating. “Tell me the truth,” he growls. “Did you ever really love me, or was it all just a lie?”

Your heart is racing in your chest as he looms over you, his eyes flashing with anger and hurt. You can feel the tension in the air, the danger and volatility of the situation. “Of course I loved you,” you say, your voice shaking just a little. “I loved you with all my heart, and I still do.”

He sneers at your words, his face twisting into a cruel smile. He doesn’t believe you, doesn’t want to believe you. It’s easier to think that you’re lying, that you never really loved him at all. “Prove it,” he snaps. “Prove that you love me.”

You’re taken aback by his challenge, his demand. You didn’t expect him to ask you to prove your feelings, to put them to the test. “What… what do you mean, prove it?” you ask, your voice small and uncertain.

He takes another step closer, his body almost touching yours. He’s so close that you can feel the heat of his skin, the tension radiating off him in waves. “Kiss me,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Kiss me like you mean it. Show me that you’re not just playing with me.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the intensity of his gaze, and the heat of his body. You’re nervous and hesitant, but you also feel a pang of longing and desire. You want to prove to him that your feelings are real, that you’re not just toying with him. You can feel his breath on your lips, the heat of his mouth just inches away from yours. "I'm engaged." You blurt out.

His face darkens at your words, the mention of your engagement like a slap in the face. He feels a surge of irrational jealousy and anger, the idea of you marrying someone else infuriating him. “So what?” he snaps. “You’re engaged to someone else, but you’re still here, standing here in front of me, telling me that you love me. Kiss me. You said you still love me. Prove it.”

You're taken aback by his insistence, his refusal to listen to reason. "It's not that simple, Ani," you say, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm with another person now, and it wouldn't be right to-"

He cuts you off, grabbing you by the wrists and pulling you to him so that your bodies are pressed together. He’s breathing heavily, his chest heaving with emotion. He’s on the edge, barely holding it together. He can feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, the scent of your skin, the beat of your heart. “Damn the rules, damn the Code,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “I want to feel your lips on mine. I want to taste you, I want to hold you. I don’t care about anything else.”

You can see the desperation in his eyes, the hunger and need. You’re torn, part of you wants to give in to his demand, to give yourself over to the passion and desire that always existed between you. But another part of you is wary, knowing that this is dangerous, that indulging in this could lead to nothing but pain and heartache. "Ani, stop," you say, your voice gentle but firm. "We can't do this. We can't let ourselves go down this path."

He scoffs at your words, his grip on your wrists tightening. He can’t believe you’re still resisting him, still holding back when you’ve already admitted that you still love him. “Why not?” he asks, his voice a low growl. “What’s stopping us? You said you love me. You can’t deny that you want this. I can see it in your eyes.”

You feel your resolve weakening, the heat of his body and the intensity of his gaze making it hard to think straight. "I can't do this to Kenth," you say, trying to hold onto your reasoning. "I can't just throw away what I have with him. I can't hurt him like that. He's a good man."

He scoffs again, his jealousy flaring at the mention of your fiancé. To him, he's nothing more than a rival, a hindrance to what he wants. "A good man," he sneers. "What does he have that I don’t? What can he give you that I can’t?"

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question. You know that your fiancé is a good person, kind and respectful, but you also know that he’s not the same as Ani. There’s something about your history with Anakin, something about the passion and intensity of your connection, that’s unique and special. “It’s not about what he has or what he can give me,” you say, your voice quiet but firm. "It's about the future and following the rules for the sake of everyone."

He feels a pang of jealousy and bitterness at your words, the idea of you building a life with someone else it's like his biggest nightmare turning into reality.

“You’re mine,” he says through clenched teeth. “You will always be mine. I don’t care about your fiancé, your future, or anything else. I only care about you. So stop thinking about what you should do, and what you shouldn’t do, and just feel. For once in your life, just let yourself feel what you know you want.”

His words strike a chord within you, the intensity and possessiveness of his declaration igniting a spark of desire deep inside you. You can feel yourself weakening, your resolve cracking under the weight of his words. “Ani, please,” you say, your voice little more than a whisper. “This isn’t fair.”His words send a shiver down your spine, the heat of his body and the strength of his grip making it impossible to resist him. You’re caught between reason and emotion, torn between your loyalty to your fiancé and the deep-seated love you still feel for him. “Please…” you whisper, your voice breaking. “You’re not thinking straight. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

He looks down at you, his eyes burning with intensity. “I know exactly what I’m doing,” he says, his voice fierce and determined. “I’m claiming what should have always been mine. I’m taking what I want. You.” He leans down, his mouth hovering mere inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. The tension between you is electric, the air thick with desire and need. Your breath catches in your throat, your heart racing in your chest. You can feel the heat and power radiating off of him, the primal force of his need and desire nearly overpowering your senses. You know that you should resist, that you should push him away and run before it’s too late. But you can’t bring yourself to do it. Your body is drawn to his, your mind consumed with the need to feel his lips on yours.

He can see the conflict in your eyes, the battle between your loyalty and your desires. He can tell that you’re close to breaking, close to giving in to what you both want. He leans in even closer, his lips practically touching yours. “Stop fighting it,” he whispers, his voice low and sultry. “Stop trying to be strong, and just let go. I know you want this. You’ve always wanted this.“ His words send a jolt of electricity through your body, the truth of them hitting you like a ton of bricks. You know that he’s right, that deep down you’ve always wanted this, always wanted him. You know that no matter how hard you try to deny it, there will be a part of you that will always belong to him. You can feel your resistance crumbling, your body and mind completely under his control.

He senses your surrender, the last of your resistance crumbling beneath the weight of his words and his touch. He can feel the heat and desire radiating off you, the air between you electric and charged. Without another word, he closes the tiny gap between you and captures your lips with his own. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like a circuit is completed. The floodgates of long-suppressed desire burst open, and you kiss him back with a passion that takes your breath away. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, the intensity and heat of it like a storm, crashing over you and consuming you whole. You respond to the kiss with equal hunger and fervor, his hands moving to cup your face, to pull you closer to him. He wants to devour you, to possess you completely. He can feel the tension building between you, the passion and need threatening to overwhelm you both.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him towards you and molding your body against his. You can feel his strength, his power, the taut muscles of his back, and the heat of his skin beneath his robes. The kiss deepens, your mouths moving together in a dance of desire and need. Your hearts are racing, your bodies electrified by the heat of the kiss.

You feel the possessive urgency in his touch, the hunger and need in his every movement. You can feel the jealousy and the anger, the primal need to possess you completely. And despite yourself, you feel your body responding to his touch, igniting a fire deep within you that you thought was long extinguished.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes burning into yours, his body still pressing you against the wall. He’s panting, his breathing ragged and uneven, his body vibrating with need. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice raw and hoarse. “No one else is ever going to touch you, no one else is going to have you. I want you to leave him.“

Your mind is hazy, your thoughts clouded by the heat and desire coursing through your body. You know that you should resist him, however, you want to tell him that he owns your body and soul completely. But your mind betrays you, your words coming out in little more than a breath. "I... I can't," you whisper, your voice trembling.

The words are like a cold bucket of water to his face, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and anger. He pulls back from you slightly, his hands still on your hips, anchoring you to the wall. “Why not?” he bites out, his voice rough and sharp. “What’s stopping you?“

You try to find the words to explain, to tell him that it’s too much, that you’re still engaged to someone else. But before you can form the words, he’s leaning back in, his body pressing against yours once again. “Tell me,” he says, his voice a low growl in your ear. “Tell me why you can’t be mine. I want to hear you say it.“ The heat and desire that was coursing through you moments ago has faded, replaced by a sense of guilt and confusion. You know that you should put your foot down, that you should remind him of your engagement. But you’re finding it increasingly hard to think straight as he presses his body against yours, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear. “It's a political arrangement.” You manage to say, the words coming out in a shaky breath.

A low, possessive growl escapes his throat as he hears your words. "What do you mean, a 'political arrangement'?" he snaps, his hands tightening on your hips. "Explain."

You take a shaky breath, your body still pressed against the cool surface of the wall. The primal possessiveness of his touch sends a shiver down your spine. “My marriage. It’s an arrangement made by our families,” you explain, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s meant to strengthen our families’ political relationships.”

His jaw clenches at your words. The thought of you entering into a political arrangement with someone else, someone who didn’t deserve you, is enough to make his blood boil. He moves his body impossibly closer, his hands shifting to cup your face, his voice a low growl. “So your family basically sold you to someone else for political gain?”

Your heart sinks at the harsh truth of his words. In the back of your mind, you’ve always known that the engagement was more about politics than love. But the truth hurts, especially hearing it said out loud. You can feel the tension and possessive anger in his body, the way his body is pressed against yours like a cage. You know he’s not going to let this go easily. You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Essentially, yes.“

His mind reels at your admission, his anger and jealousy growing even stronger. He can’t believe that your family would treat you like a bargaining chip like a possession to be traded away for political gain. “And you agreed to this?” he practically spits out, his voice thick with anger. “You agreed to marry someone you don’t even love?“

Your heart twists at the anger and hurt in his voice, but you can’t deny the truth of his words. You did agree to marry someone you don’t love, all because of your family’s political aspirations. You nod again, your eyes downcast. You’re ashamed and embarrassed, and guilt washes over you like a wave. You know you’ve hurt him by agreeing to marry someone else, but you don’t know how to fix it.

He pulls back slightly, his hands falling from your face. He feels a mix of anger, hurt, and jealousy coursing through him, the primal possessiveness warring with the need to protect you. “So you’re going to marry him?” he asks, his voice low and hoarse. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone you don’t even love? Are you gonna be happy with that?“

You find yourself unable to meet his gaze. You’ve never thought about it that way before, but there isn't much that you can do. You shake your head slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It's the best outcome for everyone. For my family, the Order, the Force... and for you.“

His jaw clamps shut at your words, a surge of anger and frustration coursing through him. The thought of you marrying someone else, settling for a life that is anything less than what you deserve, is unbearable to him. “Best outcome for everyone?” he grits out, his voice raw with emotion. “Except for you. What about what you want? What about your happiness?“ His words sting bitterly, the shame and guilt you feel growing stronger. You know that your happiness is not a priority in this arrangement, that it never has been. But the truth hurts, especially when it’s said out loud. You shake your head again, your voice trembling. “It doesn’t matter. I have a duty, the responsibility to see this through.“

His heart aches at your words, the fact that you’re willing to sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of duty is something he can’t understand. It goes against everything he believes in, against everything he fights for. “Duty and responsibility be damned,” he snaps, his voice edged with anger and frustration. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be with someone who loves you, who worships the ground you walk on. Not some political arrangement.“

Your heart clenches at his words, the mix of anger and desperation in his voice bringing tears to your eyes. You know he’s right, deep down you’ve always known that you deserve more than you’re settling for. But duty and responsibility have always been pounded into you, and the thought of going against them is terrifying. “It’s not that simple,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s not just about me. It’s about the Republic, the Jedi Order…”

He scoffs at your words, the anger and frustration growing stronger. The fact that you’re still focusing on what's expected of you, even after everything you’ve just shared, is frustrating for him. “None of that matters if you’re not happy. You’re not some pawn to be used in someone else’s game.“

Your heart aches more with every word he says, the truth of them echoing in your head. You know he’s right, you know that your happiness should come first, but the years of conditioning and expectations are hard to break. “I can’t just... abandon everything...” you say, your voice weak. “I can’t disappoint them.“

His eyes flash with anger and disbelief, his patience wearing thin. “You’re more worried about disappointing them than about your happiness? That’s a load of Bantha poodoo and you know it. They don’t deserve your loyalty.”

He's right, you know he is. You've been putting everyone else's needs above your own for so long that it's become second nature. You look up at him, tears streaming down your face. "But what about you?" you whisper, your voice trembling.

“What about me?” he echoes, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You’re choosing someone else over me. You’re choosing a life of political duty over our happiness, over what we could have together.“ He steps closer to you again, his body once again pinning you against the wall. His hands reach out to cup your face, his touch gentle despite the storm of emotion raging within him. “We could have a life together. We could be happy.“

Your heart clenches at his words, the weight of the decision you’re facing hitting you like a ton of durasteel. You know what you want, deep down you know that you’d give anything to be with him. But responsibility, a lifetime of conditioning, is still weighing heavily on you. You lean into his touch, your eyes falling closed. Your voice is a whisper, choked with emotion. “Is that possible?” He feels a pang of pain at your question, the doubt in your voice makes him want to just keep you in his arms until you understand what you mean to him. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life. “Yes,” he says, his voice steady and firm, despite the emotions churning inside him. “It’s possible. It’s more than possible. It’s what I want, what I’ve wanted since I met you.“ His hands tighten on your face, his touch gentle yet possessive. “Please, don’t marry him. Choose me.“

His words and touch cut through the fog of doubt and confusion surrounding you. The thought of choosing him, of having a life with him, fills you with a sense of longing and hope that you’ve never known before. For the first time, the thought of your future isn’t shrouded in obligations, it’s filled with love and happiness. You let out a ragged breath, your body tense. “I don’t want to marry Kenth.” You whisper.

His heart nearly leaps out of his chest at your words, a surge of triumph and relief coursing through him. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you like a vise, pulling you flush against him. His body is taut with need and desire, the primal possessiveness in him raging stronger than ever. “Then don’t.” he whispers into your ear, his voice a low growl. “Be with me.“

Your body melds against him, your trembling hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. You feel a mix of relief and desire and fear coursing through you as you look into his eyes, your voice a whisper. “What if they find out? What if they try to... stop us? Or worse, haunt us?“

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes burning with a mix of passion and determination. The thought of anyone trying to stop or hurt you fills him with a fierce, protective rage. “They’ll try,” he says, his voice hard. “But I’ll never let anything happen to you. I’ll protect you, no matter what. And if anyone tries to stop us, they’ll have to go through me first.“

His words, full of certainty and strength, send a shiver down your spine. You’ve never felt so wanted, so desired, so protected. The thought of being with him, of having his love and loyalty, is both exhilarating and terrifying. You look into his eyes, searching for reassurance. “And what if it doesn’t work?” you ask hesitantly. “What if we can’t make it?“

He sees the doubt and fear in your eyes, and his heart clenches at the thought of losing you. He pulls you even closer, his body pressed against yours, his arms wrapped around you fiercely. “It will work,” he says, his voice firm and unwavering. “I’ll make sure it does. I won’t let anything come between us.“ He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low growl. “I love you. And I won’t let anyone or anything take you away from me.“

His words, spoken with such unwavering conviction, send a jolt of hope and love through you. You’ve never felt so safe, so cherished, so loved. You can feel the heat and strength of his body against yours, the possessiveness and determination radiating off him in waves. You close your eyes, leaning into him, his lips at your ear. “I love you too,“ you whisper, your voice cracking with emotion. “I’ve always loved you.“

Anakin for the first time in his life, feels complete, whole. He embraces you tightly, his hands roaming over your body, possessive and protective. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “And I’m yours. No one can keep us apart again. Not the Order, not the Republic, not the universe.“

You can feel the possessiveness in his touch, the way his hands roam over your body as though he owns it. And a part of you, a primal, feminine part of you, longs to be owned by him, to belong to him completely. You nod, your body molding against his, your voice a whisper. “I’m yours. Completely yours.“

His heart nearly bursts at your words, your surrender and acceptance igniting a primal, possessive need in him that nearly takes his breath away. He leans in, his lips against your neck, his voice a low, ragged growl. “Say it again. Say you’re mine.“

You tilt your head slightly, giving him better access to your neck, your body melting against his. You feel a shiver of desire run down your spine at his words, his possessive tone sending a wave of heat through you. You let out a shaky breath, your voice a ragged whisper. “I’m yours. I belong to you, completely and utterly.“

Anakin’s eyes lock onto yours, the intensity and determination in his gaze making your breath hitch. His hands coming up to cup your face, his touch achingly gentle. “There are so many words I want to say to you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Words that will never do justice to how I feel about you. You’re the air that I breathe, the thought that consumes me, the obsession that drives me to the brink of madness.“ He leans in closer, his forehead pressing against yours. "You’re the reason I feel alive, the reason I’ll do anything, give anything, to be with you.“ His hands move to your back, his body pressed against yours, the raw need and desire in him almost feral. “I’ve tried to fight it for years, to deny it, but I can't. I can't pretend anymore that I don't want you, that I don't need you. Because I do. I need you more than anything. I’m obsessed with you, completely and utterly obsessed. Living without you it's like not having a soul inside of my body.“

He pulls back slightly, his eyes burning into yours, the force of his emotions like a tidal wave washing over you. “I will do whatever it takes, I will risk everything, I will defy the universe itself, to keep you by my side. You’re mine, and I will never let you go. You’re my love, my every thought, my every dream, my entire existence.“

Your heart is pounding in your chest, the intensity and passion in his words, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. Your hands reach up, touching his face, your fingers tracing over his features gently. “Ani…“ You whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say. You… you make me feel things I’ve never felt before. You make me feel loved, wanted, desired… worshipped.“

He leans into your touch, his eyes closing as he savors the feeling of your fingers on his skin. A small, vulnerable smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he looks at you. “Say you’ll be mine,” he whispers, his voice gruff with emotion. “Say you’ll stay with me, that you’ll be my everything. I need to hear it, I need to know that you want this as much as I do.“

His vulnerability in that moment, so different from the fierce and possessive man he usually is, makes your heart pound even harder. You look into his eyes, seeing the love, the fear, the need in them. You never knew he was capable of such emotion, such passion. “I’ll stay with you,” you murmur, your voice soft yet filled with conviction. “I’ll be yours, yours completely. For as long as you’ll have me.“

He lets out a ragged breath, his body visibly relaxing as your words sink in. The fear, the doubt, that had been lurking in his eyes vanishes, replaced by something wild and primal, something that nearly takes your breath away. “Forever,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and fierce. “I want you forever. I need you forever. You’re mine now, and I’m never letting you go. Together, we will defy the odds, we will fight fate, we will prove that love, true love, can conquer all."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle at first, but quickly turning hungry and demanding. His body presses against yours, the heat of his desire like a fever burning through you. The world around you falls away, leaving only you and him, lost in a moment of complete and utter obsession and love. You’re his and he's yours, and nothing else matters.

[lovebugism]

being with toxic people on Christmas eve, hurt/comfort with eddie + shy!reader, because this is my situation and I'm projecting 😔

i'm so sorry angel! i hope this makes you feel a wee bit better!! — when being around family gets too hard, eddie makes everything feel easy again (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, friends in love, tw for brief mentions of toxic family, 1.1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

December is bitter, glittering, and terribly cold. 

The crisp chill takes your breath away when you storm out into it. It burns your lungs and scratches at your chest like a living thing with claws. When the initial shock of wintry dreariness fades, you take your first deep breath in all day.

You feel somehow less alone out here by yourself than you did inside your own house. The falling snow keeps you company in a way your family never could. The empty, faint pink sky drapes over you like a fuzzy blanket. 

You think you’d rather freeze out here — in the peaceful, early-winter melancholy — than step foot back home.

You walk down the gravel path of the trailer park with snow crunching beneath your feet. The sound is soft and hollow and pleasant. The piling crystalline dampens your sneakers as your legs move on their own. Muscle memory at its finest. 

You gravitate towards the Munson trailer without thinking twice ‘cause the safest thing you know is waiting for you there — standing on his snowy front porch, smoking a cigarette, and shivering under a thick flannel coat that’s obviously older than he is.

A quiet smile lifts the corners of your mouth when you see him. 

Eddie’s winter-kissed features twist in concern at the sight of you, all alone and in the dark. “The hell are you doing out here?” he asks in place of any real greeting, breath leaving his rosy, chapped lips in a thin white cloud. “It’s freezing!”

You know this. The cold is impossible to ignore. You were just too eager to get out of your house, too eager to get here, that you forgot to notice how much your frigid limbs were aching.

“I wanted to see you,” you confess in a tiny voice, as light as the falling snow sticking to your hair and sweater.

Eddie’s chest swirls with warmth. Suddenly it’s summer, and everything’s golden instead of navy blue and bitter. With a sudden longing to close the distance between you, he says, “Get up here before you freeze to death.”

You climb up the steps of his porch without a word of complaint from your mouth. You gravitate towards him like he’s the sun, a bright yellow thing that makes the winter seem less dreary. You ache to be near him just the same, to hold him with your frozen hands until you’re warm again.

He reaches for the lapel of his coat, and you think he might take it off for you — swaddle you in its warmth like they do in the movies. Despite the swarm of butterflies the thought stirs in your stomach, you’d rather him keep it on. You don’t want him to suffer just because you forgot to put on a jacket before rushing here.

Only Eddie doesn’t take it off. He keeps it on and ushers you closer with a silent nod of his wild head. He wraps you up in it with him — with his palm on your back, his curls tickling your forehead, and his heart against your heart. 

You bury a final sigh of relief into his Corroded Coffin tee, thankful to be in his arms. He soothes you with the familiar scent of his musky cologne, heals you with the kindness of his touch. He opens suns inside your heart and makes you forget how cold you used to be.

“What happened?” Eddie asks, chin bobbing against your head. He snuffs out his cigarette on the small ashtray on the wooden railing, then swipes a hand over your hair to brush off the snowflakes sticking to you. “Why aren’t you at home?”

You make a vague I don’t know sound, muffled into his chest. “I just needed to be outside for a second,” you say finally, so soft your words get buried in the whistling wind. In a strained and fragile voice, you tell him, “It’s so loud back home.”

Eddie knows that’s not totally the truth. You didn’t leave in such a hurry that you forgot to put on a coat just because it was loud. You decided it was more important to risk freezing on your way to him than stay where you were, so it must be more than you let on.

Eddie doesn’t pry, though. Just holds you tighter.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he says in a sympathetic sigh.

You can hear music playing from inside the trailer — Steve Miller Band, you think, or maybe Lynyrd Skynyrd. Uncle Wayne loves both, and their rhythmic guitar shakes the walls of the old house accordingly. The Munson clan’s closest friends and family manage to shout over it all, mixed with loud laughter and something warm. 

It doesn’t sound as mean as the shouting you’re most familiar with.

“How long do I have you before your folks start hunting me down?” Eddie asks, lips curled into a smile against your head.

“As long as you want,” you answer with a sad laugh. “No one’s coming to look for me.”

Eddie nods despite his stinging chest and sways you gently back and forth.

“Good. I wanted you all to myself— It’s what I asked for for Christmas, actually.”

You snort a disbelieving scoff.

“I’m serious!” he insists with a loud laugh. You feel the rumble of the boyish noise against the apple of your cheek. “I put the letter in the little Santa mailbox on Main Street and everything!”

“Well, I’m glad I could make your wish come true,” you joke with a conceding sigh. You pull slightly back from him, only enough to see his face. You find him smiling down at you, a pink grin that shows all his teeth. Beautiful. Warm. Sunlit.

You try to smile back. It’s a little too forced and ends up looking like a wince.

Eddie’s face twists in concern. Still smiling, just a little softer now. “You’re okay, right?”

You nod at first. ‘Cause you feel like that’s what you’re supposed to do. Then you realize it’s Eddie, and you shrug. “Now I am,” you answer finally, quiet in your subtle confession.

His rosy grin widens. “That is very cheesy,” he teases with a twinkle in his dark eyes. He squints them a second later. “You’re not flirting with me, are you?”

Your face burns hot as you laugh out loud. “No!”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he jokes, pouting now.

“Shut up.”

He shrugs. “I just thought we had something going here.”

“Are you flirting with me, Eddie Munson?”

“Of course I am!” he blurts with a laugh you can feel in your chest. “I’m surprised it took you this long to notice.”

You figure he must be joking, so you shove him away with a halfhearted hand. He pulls you back into him with gentle fingers wrapped around your arms, and you let him — resting your cheek against his shoulder with every intention of melting with him.

There’s something innately sweet about his presence. His warmth. This closeness. And this silent sense of understanding you share. 

You don’t want to think about what you’re running from anymore. 

You’re just glad you ended up here.

[neoameba]

"Promise to me, please."

Aizetsu x Male!Reader

Warnings: a bit of yandere!Aizetsu, Self-degradation, melancholy (but it's Aizetsu, so that's to be expected), Aizetsu kills a few people, so maybe there's some gore implied. Can be read as ftm!reader.

Summary: Aizetsu is a difficult thing to deal with. He always seems depressed, and it's hard to be his boyfriend while dealing with this. His melancholy reaches absurd levels when he's around [Name]. 'Tell me you love me, please... Don't look at me like that...' was what he always said as he knelt on the floor like a poor soul. Even though he just killed someone and accidentally made his boyfriend see everything.

[Name] knew what he was getting into. From the beginning, when he opened the door for the oni and let him in. Why did he do it? For two reasons: If he didn't open the door, maybe the oni would still come in and out of anger and despair would kill him in the most brutal way... The other reason is simple, that sad, sly little face wanting to come in because the sun was about to rise and he needed to hide broke the human boy's heart. He looked hurt, he probably fought with someone who was a hashira and ran away from the sun. Worthy of pity.

Since that day when Aizetsu didn't kill [Name], they began to create a subtle and fragile bond. In the past, [Name]'s father was a formidable swordsmith, and thanks to that, the two lived in the swordsmith village. The boy knew about the existence of oni because of his father, but he never paid any attention to it. When his father died, [Name] felt that he no longer had any obligation to remain in the village, and fled far away. But who knew, now he's harboring an oni that refuses to leave his home. Aizetsu only came out at night and nothing else, before the sun came up he was already inside [Name]'s house. He would close the curtains and windows, blocking any rays of sunlight from coming in while he was buried in [Name]'s arms... The boy hadn't even given permission for Aizetsu to sleep in the same bed as him, or even come close.

"I'm sorry, [Name], I won't do that again... Don't talk to me like that, it makes me sad..."

That's what he always said, even though he remained suffocatingly close and always did the same thing the next day. After a while, [Name] didn't even complain anymore, it was a waste of time. He just hugged him back and went back to sleep. Their relationship became stronger... But at the same time, more irritating.

"[Name]!... D-Don't do that... You know it makes me sad, makes me feel like scum, pitiful when you go out for the day with your friends, just because I can't go out..." Perhaps he enjoyed degrading himself, as his cheeks would turn pink and his legs would tighten to relieve something as he knelt. It's a difficult thing to know. And in a way, [Name] even liked seeing Aizetsu like this... It was a strange feeling, something like having such an inferior and humiliated creature in his care.

But... Aizetsu is still an oni, one of the most dangerous. Even though with [Name] he acts like a puppy that sits on his owner's lap when doing things he doesn't like, he still kills innocent people and destroys families, swallowing the flesh and blood of those who pass by. He needed to feed, and he didn't want to have to go as far as he had the last few times.

"AIZETSU!"

A voice echoes in that hut, disturbing the oni's meal. He recognizes that voice before it is even heard. "[Name]! D-Don't be mad at me...!" But how can he not get angry? All the corpses there were those of [Name]'s friends. Aizetsu knew this. And he cut their throats anyway. He drops that corpse and runs to [Name], who doesn't have time to react.

He cries, like never before. His face showed pure despair at losing his boyfriend. "[N-Name], it wasn't my fault... I swear! But I had to, it was my hands...! Don't hate me! I'm scum, a depressing being..." He threw the entire weight of his body at [Name] causing the boy to fall to the ground. With that, Aizetsu sits on his lap and hugs him.

"You always knew I was an oni and you still let me into your house! Don't look at me like that... Promise me you won't abandon me...!"

He said, while looking like he was on the verge of an anxiety attack. Anyone who knows the true body of that oni, or its history to be more precise, knows that that behavior is the purest juice of its true personality. A wolf in sheep's clothing, someone who cries like an innocent but has a lot of blood on his hands.

"I promise."

The oni looked at him with wide, glowing eyes as he looked in disbelief. He kissed the boy's lips without any malice, and buried his face in the human boy's chest. Maybe it's pure mental exhaustion and desperation, maybe [Name] did it so he could have time to call a demon slayer... Or maybe he just loves Aizetsu. There's no way to know for now.

Masterlist~

[lint-beetle4]

Can u do a Macaque x Female reader smut. The scenario is that they had some history and dont want the group to know(but they eventually find out). One night, Macaque and reader talks and they let out how they felt ever since they split. " Like even though I was mad at u I still loved u" or like "When it rained I remembered how u liked it". Then they just make love knowing they missed each other.

Old Scars (Macaque x Fem!Reader Smut)

The Guardian and The Warrior were like the stars and the moon, their light reaching where The Sun's rays missed, casting the world in their protective glow

This story is as old as time itself, yet many failed to realize that as the sun and his shadow grew, the stars twinkled weakly compared to the light around them

So, as The Moon chased The Sun, the stars were left to glow in the dark sky, forever to wait for the cold moonlight to return with the sun's rays

You and Macaque were old, ancient in modern times

Of course, that meant you naturally found each other when empires were thriving and the world seemed big, gravitating towards the other as immortal beings

Yet, something happened between the two of you, something that led to you leaving Macaque's side and away from Wukong

In the modern age, you found him again, surrounded by new friends and old foes

You wanted to run from him, but you couldn't escape his ears. He still remembered what your heartbeat sounded like

So there you were, surrounded by strangers while two pairs of eyes looked at you with such melancholy--deep down, you wondered if death would set you free from the pain you've lived through

"So, Monkey King--this another enemy of yours?" Pigsy sighed, turning to you with a tired gaze. "Look, you're gonna fight, do it outside my shop, will ya?"

You averted your gaze from the surprised monkeys before you, shaking your head with a nervous smile. "No, no, I just smelled the food from your shop. I--err--wanted to buy some noodles."

Pigsy perked up, shock evident in his face. "Oh--Well, you have any preferences in your noodles?"

"No, this is my first time trying them if I'm honest." You chuckled, remembering the lands you've traveled during your life. "I'll have whatever you think is best."

"One house special then."

As you waited for the food, you felt more eyes on you, a group of familiar energies before you. Macaque looked away, almost hiding behind Wukong as a young man turned to the monkey.

"Monkey King?"

Wukong sighed, still looking at you with those pathetic eyes. "It's been so long. Where do I even begin?"

"By letting me eat my food," You shrugged, grabbing the hot bowl. "You haven't changed a bit, Great Sage. I see Macaque still hides behind you as well."

Macaque remained unresponsive to your quip, and you merely ate in spite of it. Wukong stepped closer to you. "Where have you been all this time? I couldn't find you anywhere after--"

"Sorry, but just--not here, Wukong." You set down your chopsticks, eyes boring into the shadow behind him. "I'm trying to eat."

A girl stepped up to you, eyes naively curious yet her voice confident and strong. "So, what your deal with those two?"

You fought back a laugh. "We just have--a complicated past is all. Macaque and I were a team, partners. But, I was too weak to stay by his side. I'm not powerful like him and Wukong."

"It wasn't like that." Macaque growled, glaring at you. "You never came back-- We needed you."

"You didn't need shit, Liu-Er." You stood up, broth sour on your tongue as you paid for you meal with a hefty tip. "Neither of you did."

You left the building quietly, returning to your home.

The presence of The Warrior was obvious to those who knew him--you were no exception. Turning your head, the glowing eyes of your shadow widened, Macaque emerging strangely quiet.

"You needed anything?"

Macaque sighed, a growl underneath his throat. "Look, I just--the argument--everything that happened I just--"

"You what?" You snapped, eyes glaring daggers into the agitated simian. "You didn't mean to leave me behind, fueled by your petty anger towards Wukong? You didn't mean to attack Wukong's master, leaving me alone--?"

"He left us first!"

"The moment Wukong was freed from that mountain-- the moment you laid eyes on him again, you went mad!" You shouted, voice quivering against your will. "You died for a cause that didn't exist. You died trying to send Wukong to his old ways."

Macaque practically snarled. "He killed me."

"I know." You whispered, hugging yourself tightly. "I tried to stop you. I tried to save you from yourself, and you pushed me away."

"You hurt me, Macaque." You shuddered. "And because I couldn't stop you, you got killed trying to be a monster."

"It's just like you to take the blame for something that doesn't involve you." Macaque scoffed. "The world has been brought to its knees more than once, but now you show up, spewing your self-pity?"

"You said it yourself--You didn't want to see me around anymore." You sighed. "Plus, Wukong wasn't too pleased that I didn't tell him about your plan. I didn't want to be a memory lingering over his head, so I simply just--left."

"Oh please, you know Wukong loves to see you." Macaque rolled his eyes. "...I didn't mean it."

"What?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I didn't mean to push you away...You were right," Macaque's gaze lowered, his shoulder tense. "I was a fool to try and convince Wukong away from his journey, and I paid the price for it."

"That day--When I left, before I--" Macaque sighed, gritting his teeth. "Before that, I was so afraid of losing you. I was angry at Wukong--at myself, but I was afraid you'd join Wukong and leave me behind."

Macaque reached out, gently grabbing your hand. "I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be forgotten."

"When Wukong told me everything," You smiled sadly. "It was raining... like that Sun had hidden itself away, allowing only darkness in the world. I was--I was--I felt like I lost everything that day."

"I didn't see Wukong again after that, and--" You swallowed harshly, tears emerging from the corner of your eyes. "Every time it rained, I knew I wouldn't see you again either."

You felt strong arms embrace you, squeezing you gently. "I came back."

"I saw--" You laughed. "You certainly made an entry with how much property damage you caused."

Macaque smiled fondly, nuzzling into your hair. "What did you expect? You know I have a knack for the dramatics."

"I missed you so much." You kissed the shadow demon's cheek. "I could never stop loving you, y'know."

Macaque cupped your face, pecking your lips. "Neither could I. I'm so glad to have a second chance with you in it."

In a flash, Macaque had taken you to your bedroom, kisses and light nips littering your neck.

You chuckled beneath the increasingly desperate monkey--only you could get him so worked up with a few words. Macaque tore off your clothes--actually ripping a hole in one of them to your dismay-- hands fondling your body, squeezing your breasts as another traced circles into your hips.

You jolted as Macaque's teeth lightly bit around your nipple, tongue soothing you quickly. The shadow monkey was meticulous in showing his dedication to you, biting at you collarbones and shoulders and rubbing at the soft skin in your inner-thigh.

You gasped lightly as his finger entered your pussy, stroking the inner walls with pressure that you out of breath in an instant. Macaque entered another finger, stretching you slightly as his scissored the two appendages, curling up to find the sensitive spot that made you moan loudly.

His hand drilled into you, fingers digging into your walls while another hand help your hips down. You grinded against hand, practically screaming his name as you felt his tongue lap at your clit, his mouth sucking it lightly.

Your body felt light, drifting through the waves of pleasure that were rising in your core. Feeling your pussy tighten against the fingers that abused your g-spot, you whimper lightly, hips trying to grind deeper into them.

Macaque's voice was by your ear, familiar shadows stimulating your clit and hugging your body, "Go on, cum for me. Let me hear that beautiful voice of yours."

You moaned deeply, feeling your orgasm wash over you almost painfully. You breathed heavily as Macaque pet your thighs comfortingly. You looked at lover, seeing his flushed face gleam at you warmly.

Eyes drifting, you saw how painfully hard Macaque was. Lifting your heavy body, you laid Macaque on his back, crawling over him as your second wind slowly came to you.

"I've craved you for so long, my shade." You smiled, stroking Macaque's cock as he looked at you with wide eyes. "Eternity could pass, and I'll still crave you more."

[yyawnjun]

CHANGE TO GROW

wonwoo x reader ; to everyone who's about to face a big change in their life, I see you and I feel you ; be proud take care, and believe in yourself a bit more (i am always here to cheer u!!) ; and gimme a hug bc my big change is truly draining me ; anyway! sorry if this is not proofread again ; fuff and comforting i hope ; 951 wc ; @kflixnet

Even when we will be tired, I know we'll be there.

You have been spending your days in melancholy for a while, tears would appear now and then, and they come quickly and abundantly as soon as you gave them time to fall.

When you let them to fall when you were alone, at night in your room.

You gave yourself a limited amount of time to cry. You hated feeling so sensitive to a future you wanted so much. You chose that university, and now you had to leave everything that had been your routine for all the past years. You felt that all the effort you put into growing those friendships would be lost; all the years you worked to gain the trust of everyone around you and to trust those around you were lost?

You were wandering around the new city alone, and you let your mind wander. Now and then, you found yourself sobbing in front of some random bar while you watched groups of friends, and you felt a little more alone than before. You looked at the parks and felt far away that places did not belong to you.

But the city was so stunning, the sun was shining and the sky was clear.

And among all those unknown faces, you stopped at one that you knew better than all.

You thought it was a mirage or a hallucination. You moved cautiously towards him, who was busy writing on his phone.

"Wonwoo?" you asked almost in a low voice.

"Yn!" the boy said as he came towards you.

As soon as he saw your condition he took your face in his hands and dried your tears with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. You remained still; while the sun hit from behind his head and made him look like a magnific sculpted statue.

"You found me," he muttered to you as he pulled away and stroked his hands down your arms as if to give them some warmth.

"What are you doing here? I'm so happy to see you wonwoo." you managed to say while big drops of tears started to form in your eyes. To hide them you immediately moved towards him, rested your head on his chest, and held him in a tight hug.

Shivers flooded your entire body, almost making you jump.

You felt that hug tighter than usual, almost as if he feared you could disappear forever after that moment. You hugged him too, and let your tears run down his chest.

It was a silent cry, surrounded by the hug, enlightened by the sun but hidden from the world.

" I know you are terrified because you are about to start a new chapter of your life. Yn, remember that you only grow by leaving your comfort zone and that never physical distance can separate souls," he told you while looking into your eyes. he stared at them, and they appeared bright from the tears and the light of the sun that caressed you.

While you lost yourself in admiring him, all your worries disappeared for a moment.

“ Hold me for a little longer, okay? Then I promise I’ll be stronger ” you said in response.

You knew and hoped with all your heart that things would go for the better and that only by starting the day you could live your future.

But your soul trembled in front of the change. Rationally speaking, it was the right thing to do, but something inside of you was profoundly influenced by the fear that had reawakened the insecure, judgment-dependent young you.

You relaxed in that hug and let the boy's final words resonate through your mind like a repeating echo.

He had stayed in the hug, holding it tight and gently planting a kiss on your head.

And in the end, after endless minutes of confusing his breathing with yours, you took him and you started to walk without a destination.

“ Your words still resonate in my head, they are so precious,” you told him.

“ I am so happy to hear it. I thought a lot before putting my thoughts into words"

"Without change, there is no growth it sounds poetic"

"Thank my wisdom, and seventeen, and some video games"

and you nodded.

You knew that even when you would be alone a new strength would appear, as if from afar he could transmit his warmth to you. This couldn't be a physical strength explained rationally, but it was better like this.

Now you were more relaxed, you had let the tears fall without holding them back in front of someone.

You would have cried once again, and the melancholy would still be there, but you would have looked forward to the future differently.

You looked at your new city, then glanced at the boy who had left everyone to surprise you that day. He was there for you. He was there only for you.

Just as that city was there ready to welcome you with new possibilities.

Your life didn't end when you faced that big change, and with time you would have been able to notice it too and be proud of it.

"Here, some letters for when you need them" the boy gave you without adding anything else about the meaning.

But sometimes words were useless.

You thanked him with a delicate nod of your head. And you continued walking until it was time to say goodbye.

You were still alone, but your soul was filled with the bright light given to you by the presence of that boy.

Who had come by surprise and left you, expecting nothing in return but offering the healing of something he had not hurt.

[blackcathjp]

draco constantly complains and makes fun of harry's hair. one day, harry snaps and gets a haircut. he comes home and draco just stares. slack jawed. shocked. speechless. harry snaps, "what? isn't this what you wanted?"

draco, with sad eyes, whispers, "love of my life, what did you do?" and bursts into tears.

draco is inconsolable. devastated. heartbroken. yes, he jokes about harry's messy hair, it is most definitely a rat's nest, but seeing him LIKE THIS... that is NOT his harry 😭

meanwhile, harry is still reeling from this revelation. "i'm the love of your life?"

draco pauses, realization setting in, his face turning redder. his voice wobbles out, "y-yes, isn't that obvious?"

harry softens, steps closer. "i love you too."

draco's heart skips. harry loves him back! but all of his teasing, mean-spirited jokes drove harry to cut his hair off and make such a drastic change. his heart aches thinking that he must have caused so much sadness and anger in harry, and oh no, the tears start again.

"oh, my love, i didn't mean it, i loved - love - your hair as it was. it's just so... YOU. and it's still you but it's also not and i'm sorry if i made you think you should change-"

harry kisses him, amused. "i was a little mad about that last joke you made, but i was due for a haircut anyway."

"still," draco sniffles. he pats harry's hair. it was much too short, he couldn't ruffle it anymore like he used to. he didn't realize until now how much he did that everyday. a gentle hand on the back of harry's head, softly petting his hair while he read. an unconscious habitual gesture that was comforting and domestic. he didn't realize how much he liked it until he couldn't do it anymore :(

over the next few days, draco feels bittersweet. he stares often at harry's head. he kisses his temple a lot, a bit as an apology, and mostly because he wants to. if he sheds a tear in private about the loss of harry's glorious hair, then that's his business.

a week later, after his quiet moping and harry worshipping (lots of kisses, lots of cuddling, lots of touching) his magic manifests a miracle (it was just tired of his dramatic melancholy and longing):

harry's head of full of hair, restored to perfection.

[steddieas-shegoes]

i'm a freak that is searching for redemption

for @subeddieweek day seven with the prompts subdrop and daddy kink and praise kink

rated e | 2,239 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one:  ao3 | tumblr Day two: ao3 | tumblr Day three: ao3 | tumblr Day four: ao3 | tumblr Day five: ao3 | tumblr   Day six: ao3 | tumblr

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Steve dropped Eddie off at the trailer, only coming inside to make sure he got into a warm shower and had a snack.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning to bring you to school, okay?” Steve kissed his forehead as he gently guided him into the steamy shower. “I’ll leave a note for Wayne so he knows your van broke down.”

Eddie could only nod, still a bit out of it from their fun in the car.

He still felt unmoored, even with music playing softly in his room and a candle lit that smelled like the cologne Steve wore.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up still wrapped in his towel, pillow soaked from his hair being wet, all he could think was how much he wished he hadn’t woken up yet.

Wayne used to call him his Melancholy Mule when he first came to live with him and spent mornings pouting in bed. He had no good reason, other than most of the shit that life had handed him, and Wayne was just trying to make light of a shitty situation. But he couldn’t help but wonder if he was having one of those days again.

He hadn’t in a while, not since Steve, maybe not since he’d failed high school the first time.

But his body felt heavy, his eyes drooping closed despite the nagging feeling that he needed to get up and get ready. His thoughts were all over the place, but nothing was connecting.

Steve.

He needed Steve.

A shiver went down his spine as he realized he was still alone.

Steve hadn’t come back for him. He’d left him here.

“Ed?” Wayne knocked on his bedroom door, opening it a crack and letting in some light from the hallway. “Steve’s here. You want me to let him in?”

Steve’s here? He didn’t leave?

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice was rough, rougher than it usually was in the morning.

There was a voice behind Wayne, and then the door opened more. Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut at the light entering his dark room, his body curling into itself.

“Eds? You okay?” Steve’s voice was right next to him, and when Eddie managed to open his eyes, he was kneeling next to Eddie’s bed. His hand covered Eddie’s cheek, thumb rubbing soothing patterns under his eye.

Eddie let out a small whimper and closed his eyes again.

He couldn’t understand what was wrong, had no idea why he didn’t even cheer up at the sight of Steve, but he knew he couldn’t possibly get out of this bed right now.

“Shit. Sweet boy, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you last night, not until you fell asleep at least. Did you sleep last night?” Steve was suddenly pushing him over on his bed, sliding into the spot Eddie had previously taken and wrapping him up in his arms.

Steve was warm.

His hands felt big against Eddie’s back, strong, like they could pull him from whatever depth he was drowning in right now.

“Eddie, baby, look at me.” Steve’s voice sounded worried. Eddie didn’t want that. He managed to open both of his eyes and look up at Steve. “That’s it. Love when you’re so good for me. Did you sleep last night?”

“Mhm. Can I sleep now?” Eddie was so tired. His whole body felt like it was being dragged through the mattress, right through the floor. His chest was heavy, almost like the last time he had a chest cold, but without the coughing.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling first? Just so I can make sure I know how to help.”

Steve still sounded worried and Eddie didn’t want him to. He was fine, just tired. And maybe a little bit sad. He didn’t know why he was sad, but it would pass.

“Just wanna sleep. Can I skip school?” Eddie mumbled against Steve’s chest, listening to his heart beat as it lulled him into a comforting silence.

“Sure, baby. Wayne’s gonna go look at your van.”

“Mmkay.”

A voice in the back of Eddie’s head was telling him to try to stay awake and talk to Steve more, but he couldn’t quite keep his eyes open or form any more words.

***

“Thanks, Wayne.”

Steve’s soft voice filtered through Eddie’s dreams, causing his eyes to flutter until he was blinking open to sunlight coming in through his window. He always kept his curtains closed so someone must’ve opened them.

He was mad at that someone.

He groaned and turned his head further into Steve’s chest, his fingers curling into his shirt.

He smelled so good all the time. How did he always smell like he just got out of the shower?

“Hey, sweet boy. Feeling a little better after your nap?” Steve asked, one hand playing with his curls while the other played with the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah. Sorry I was out of it earlier. Must not have slept good,” Eddie started to pull away, but Steve’s arm tightened, pulling him close against him again.

“My fault,” Steve muttered under his breath. “Have you ever dropped like that before?”

“Dropped?” Eddie asked, finally pulling away to look up at Steve.

“I think you dropped after last night. It was my fault. I knew you were still a little floaty when I put you in the shower and then I left without checking in again. I’m so sorry, baby. You were so overwhelmed with everything that happened with the van and then what we did in the car, I should’ve stayed or taken you to my place,” Steve was running his hands up his sides. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

Oh.

That’s what that feeling was.

He’d thought Steve left because he hadn’t done good. He hadn’t even realized until now that’s what the disappointment was in the shower and when he crawled into bed and when he woke up this morning.

“I didn’t?”

“No, sweet boy. You were perfect for me, you’re always perfect for me. Letting me have you whenever and wherever I want? God, you’re so amazing.” Steve kissed his forehead. “Do you need anything from me? Anything.”

“I…don’t know,” Eddie was feeling quite a bit better, still a little bit off, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Steve was clearly beating himself up over what happened, and his words were melting what was left of the ice in Eddie’s stomach. “Can you hold me for a while?”

“Of course, baby. All day if you want. Wayne took the van to the shop and they’re gonna take care of it. He’s gone to grab dinner and go to work.”

“What time is it?” Eddie couldn’t have possibly been out all day.

“Nearly five. You were tired, love.”

“But-”

“It’s okay,” Steve hushed him with a kiss to his lips. “You’re good.”

“Does Wayne…know?”

“He just thinks you’re having a bad day. Didn’t think you’d want me to tell him the details of our sex life,” Steve smirked. “I didn’t really want him to kill me either.”

“He knows you take care of me.”

“I didn’t last night.”

That tone was not one that Eddie wanted. That tone was beyond apologetic, bordering on self-hatred.

“You did. You made sure I took a shower. You had music playing so I wouldn’t feel so alone. A candle that smelled like you. You did what you thought was gonna work. It probably would have any other time.” Eddie kissed his chest, then his jaw. “You were good to me. You’re always good to me.”

Steve smiled at him before he kissed his lips, soft, but lingering.

“How long are you staying?” Eddie asked him.

“As long as you want me.”

“So…forever?” Eddie poked his cheek.

“Forever sounds good to me. You wanna get up and have something to eat?”

“Yeah.”

Steve helped him up and gave him a piggyback ride to the kitchen, smiling as Eddie giggled against his neck. He set him on the counter and started cooking some spaghetti, wanting something quick and easy, but still filling to make up for all of the meals Eddie had missed today.

He did everything but feed him by hand, which…hm, maybe they could do that sometime. Eddie liked when Steve got in the mood to take care of him like this, so it was worth a shot.

“Good?” Steve asked after they both had a bowl and a half.

“Good. Thanks for taking care of me,” Eddie nuzzled his neck, noticing that they hadn’t stopped touching the entire time.

“You know I love to,” Steve kissed his temple. “Bed?”

“Depends.”

“On if we’re gonna be naked.”

Steve snorted. “You sure you feel up for that?”

“I am dying to have you inside me again.” Eddie half-joked before looking at Steve seriously. “I feel empty without you inside me.”

“Eds, baby,” Steve leaned in to kiss him, hard and fast. “I would live inside you if I could.”

“You can live there part time. Like, right now. I won’t even charge rent or anything.”

They both laughed as Steve lifted him up in his arms and carried him towards his bedroom, smiling up at him and barely paying attention to where he was going. He knew the way like the back of his hand anyway.

It was more rushed than usual, but they weren’t playing right now. At least not yet.

Eddie could tell Steve needed this, needed to just have Eddie against him, touch him until he was writhing with pleasure. Eddie needed it too.

Having Steve kissing his tattoos, his moles on his chest, the scar on his thigh from when he cut himself trying to make his own sword as a kid, was like finally feeling sunshine after a rainstorm. He could feel himself shivering, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“You okay, baby?” Steve whispered against his skin, breath making goosebumps appear against him.

“So good, daddy.”

Steve paused, pulling away from him.

Eddie whined.

“Eddie, baby, look at me.” Steve’s tone was different now, not nearly as soft or calm. Eddie looked at him, of course. Whatever it was had to be serious. “Love, do you know what you just said?”

He wasn’t floating or anything, hadn’t really gone numb or thoughtless like he did when they played. They were just making out, getting a bit heated, but nothing like they had the night before.

“Um, no? I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You called me daddy.”

Eddie sat up.

“I didn’t mean to. I-”

“Eds, baby, breathe.” Steve’s hands were solid against his shoulders, holding him down, keeping him tethered to their bubble of safety. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“But it’s weird, right? It’s different than what we do. And we didn’t ever talk about that and you shouldn’t have to-”

Steve’s lips against his shut him up quickly, but his mind still raced with apologies and excuses, things he could say to make sure Steve wouldn’t run from him.

“Sweet boy, nothing we do and nothing you could ever say is going to be weird to me. It just startled me a little.” Steve kissed the tip of his nose while his hands rubbed gentle circles into his upper arms. “You never mentioned that’s something you were into before.”

“I didn’t think it was something I was into,” Eddie admitted, cheeks red. “I’ve never been into it before.”

“Not even in porn?”

Eddie shook his head. “I didn’t really get it.”

“Do you wanna talk about why you said it?” Steve was always so careful and kind, patient when Eddie felt ready to explode.

“I just felt cared for.”

“More than usual?”

“I guess,” Eddie shrugged. “I wasn’t even floating or anything. I just knew you’d make sure I was okay and that you’ve been making sure I was okay all day.”

“Yeah. I’ll always take care of you, baby, you know that.” Steve pecked his lips. “Do you think you wanna call me that sometimes?”

Eddie didn’t really know. He certainly hadn’t put any thought into it before now, and he didn’t think Steve had either. And with how he was still coming off of his drop, and how stressed Steve had been this morning, maybe now wasn’t the time to dissect it.

“Maybe.” Eddie leaned his head forward, resting it against Steve’s broad chest. Steve’s arms wrapped around him, centering him. “Think I need to sleep on it.”

“Mkay, baby. Whenever you’re ready,” Steve kissed the top of his head. “You wanna keep going or just cuddle?”

Eddie knew it would feel good to keep going, but he could feel the exhaustion deep in his bones and muscles, and he knew that Steve was probably just as tired. Anything they did now would be born out of necessity, not because they wanted to work each other over.

“Cuddle.”

“You’re so good for me, baby.”

He let the words wash over him as Steve pulled him against his chest. They settled together, Steve’s fingers tracing patterns along Eddie’s back and sides until all he could focus on was being surrounded by Steve’s love.

“Love you so much, sweet boy,” Steve whispered as Eddie slowly drifted to sleep.

The next time he woke up, he’d smile and curl further into Steve’s side and he’d start his day feeling good.

He’d always feel good with Steve by his side.

[books-and-catears]

I need to cry, my suicide tendencies are at there peak, can you help me with something with the Obey me brothers?

Like please I want to cry my eyes out

Okay hon, you really need to talk to someone about this okay? Please make sure you're not alone. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. I don't know what's wrong but things always get better...You will get through this. Again please talk to someone and don't isolate yourself okay?

It's been a while since I've received this ask, I apologise deeply for the delay, and I sincerely hope you're feeling better now.

TW: Suicide ideation

Cry Your Heart Out

Lucifer doesn't like the way your eyes look as you sit in on another RAD council meeting. Your mind is far, far away. Like you don't want to be here. He ended the meeting early so you could go home. But you look the same.

"MC." He knocks on your door after dinner. You open the door. Somehow your eyes look worse. His gut screams at him to not leave you alone.

"I feel particularly tired today. Would you like to listen to some music with me?" He asks. You shrug and say, "Sure." You almost seem like you're on autopilot.

He takes you by the hand and leads you down. The music has a strange melancholy that stung your heart. Like it understood you. Like it was screaming your misery out loud. You didn't know when your face flushed red, steaming tears falling off your cheeks. In the next second, you're buried in his chest.

"I- I can't-"

"You don't have to say anything. Just stay here for as long as you want."

❄️

Mammon didn't like the way you were avoiding him. It's not like you were ignoring him, but you seemed so distant. So...disheartened. Why? He couldn't even bring himself to ask.

There was something he dreaded deeply about the answer. Because he'd seen a semblance of those eyes before and it never ended well. And the long rope just resting on your desk brought forth more worry.

"Oi Lucifer, I have a favor to ask." He muttered into his phone. That day, after school, you found him hanging upside down from the ceiling in your room.

"Mammon what-"

"What's wrong with ya lately?"

"Me? I'm fine-"

"I can't get down unless you tell me the truth. These ropes are enchanted and everything! So if you want me out of here, you better spill okay?!"

Why do you care? The question died in your throat. And you spilled tears before words. He was down in seconds, cooing in shock and distress. "Oi, I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

But you held on tight to his jacket. He cared. That was all you needed really.

❄️

Leviathan was sitting straighter than usual as you entered his room. Alert and eager. You almost felt bad coming all the way to his room to tell him you don't feel like gaming today. But the console wasn't even plugged.

"Hey Levi-"

"Don't do it. Don't you think about it!" He sounds around. He was trembling, on the brink of crying.

"O-okay I won't say no to gaming with you I'm sorry I didn't know-" You bent down to his level. He caught you offguard, throwing his arms around you.

"You're thinking of leaving again, aren't you?" Levi's voice cracked, muffled in your shoulder. "You're thinking of going away and never coming back."

"Wait...Levi, when did I even say-"

"I thought you were just spending less time with me, I just assumed you finally got tired of me. But then you weren't with my brothers either... you're tired of ALL OF US."

You were tired of yourself, you wanted to reassure him. But he wasn't going to stop wailing anytime soon. In your heart you were just a little bit glad to have someone want you.

"Please don't go... we'll be better. I'll be better. I'll be even better than my brothers! I'll try my best to be! So don't you dare thinking of going anywhere!"

❄️

Satan seemed to be extra wary of you during all the magical classes. Potions, Charms, Curses and hexes - everywhere the demon of Wrath followed even tricking teachers if he needed to.

"I'm not trying skip my classes or anything, Satan." You said one day, turning to look at him. It was the last class of the day and everyone had left the room except the two of you.

"What I'm worried about is much worse than that and you know it, MC. Now let's go home."

He reaches out his hand. You don't take it, just sighing and glancing at the potion on your desk.

"Everyday I wake up hoping that all these bad feelings were a nightmare. But every morning, it's real. I'm tired."

"What is it that worries you so?" He leans down to cup your face, turning your eyes to meet his earnest ones.

"It's a human problem."

"I don't need to be human to understand your pains. Just give it a chance, won't you?"

You left the classroom holding his hand, the vial of the Sleeping Draught potion you'd concocted lay smashed, a mess on the floor. Satan apologized for his clumsiness.

❄️

Asmodeus had the unfortunate timing to barge in the middle of your breakdown. He gasped and fell to the ground watchin you curled up in bed with your eyes red and puffed up.

Immediately on his knees he crawls towards you, his gentle touch nudging you back to some resemblance of reality. "Darling..."

"I'm fine. Just need some more rest." You shook your head and tried to brave a smile. "Need to be alone and relax a bit."

"Oh MC, if it's relaxation you want, there's noone but me that can provide you the best!" He promptly tucked you in the sheets with him.

"Asmo I don't need-"

"Shhh! Give me a chance, won't you? If you don't like within 10 minutes, I'll leave you alone."

You closed your eyes and sighed, wanting to get over it. But then Asmo's fingers ran through your hair, soft and cool, gentle and slow. For once, all the horrible voices in your head fell asleep before you did.

"How do you feel MC?" He coos as he brushes some hair off your forehead. You only murmur in hia name in response, he chuckles and pulls you closer. His heart beats easier seeing you at peace.

[p4p1l0nn]

“brew-tiful banter”

pairing: barista!jaehyun x reader (featuring jungwoo and doyoung)

genre: romcom, slice of life, comedy, mystery, friendship, coffee culture.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: not my top pick, but decided to let it see the light. take a peek, share your thoughts if you want. enjoy the read!

like any other day, jaehyun greeted his regulars with a warm smile as they entered the cozy coffee shop. the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, creating an inviting atmosphere.

“hey there, sarah! the usual caramel latte to kickstart your day?” jaehyun grinned as he prepared her favorite drink.

sarah chuckled, “you know me too well, jaehyun. you coffee is my morning lifesaver.”

a new customer walked in, and jaehyun welcomed them, “welcome! first time here? our coffee's so good it should be illegal.”

the newcomer laughed, “i'll have whatever's the house specialty.”

“the house special? that's a bold move!” jaehyun winked. “how about a velvety mocha with a hint of hazelnut? it's our secret weapon.”

as the coffee grinder whirred in the background, jaehyun engaged with another regular, mark. “mark, my man! how's the novel coming along?”

mark sighed, “slowly, but your espresso shots keep the ideas flowing.”

with a grin, jaehyun replied, “that's what i'm here for – brewing inspiration one shot at a time!”

the mix of laughter, the clinking of mugs, and the hum of conversation filled the air, creating a lively ambiance. the smell of freshly ground coffee beans lingered, inviting customers to savor both the delightful banter and the rich aroma.

but that was before. the once lively jaehyun, whom customers adored for his infectious energy, had now transformed into a more somber version of himself. despite the change, his dedication to excellent customer service remained unmatched.

as he greeted customers, there was a noticeable absence of his signature enthusiasm. “hey there,” he would say, a faint smile attempting to mask the subdued tone. the nickname “brewmaster bummer” circulated among regulars, a stark contrast to his former title.

a long-time friend, jungwoo, sensed the change and asked, “you seem a bit off today. everything okay?”

he sighed, “just one of those days, you know? but don't worry, the latte is still going to be as perfect as ever.”

jungwoo nodded understandingly, “well, if you need someone to talk to, we're here for you too.”

the coffee shop atmosphere retained its charm, but a hint of nostalgia lingered. the smell of coffee beans mixed with an underlying melancholy, creating an unusual blend. despite the change in jaehyun's demeanor, his banter still resonated, though it lacked the sparkle it once had.

a new customer, unaware of the transformation, approached the counter. “hey, i heard this place has the best banter in town. what's the secret?”

jaehyun managed a small grin, “ah, the secret ingredient is a dash of wit and a sprinkle of charm. welcome to brewmaster bummer's, where even the gloomiest days can't dampen our dedication to good coffee and, well, decent banter.

“and as much as i want to serve our specialty, i'm sorry to say that we're closed,” jaehyun declared with his usual wit, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “jungwoo must have forgotten to put the 'closed' sign again.”

the customer sighed, “that's a bummer. i should have brought my friend earlier today, but she's too busy to even step foot in any store. i guess we'll have to come again then.”

jaehyun chuckled, “tell your friend not to worry. brewmaster bummer's is always here, and we'll have the banter ready for her next visit.”

as the customer left with a promise to return, jaehyun exchanged a knowing glance with jungwoo, who shrugged apologetically. the coffee shop may have been closing its doors, but jaehyun's spark of banter remained, leaving a lingering anticipation for the next day's interactions.

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

“order for the brave souls, your bold double-shot espressos are ready!”

a guy who visits everyday with his regular orders approached the counter. with a cheeky smile, jaehyun handed him the cups.

“bold and ready, just the way i like it," he grinned, taking the cups. “fuel for conquering the day.”

curiosity got the better of jaehyun, and he quirked an eyebrow, “does your friend always ask you to get her order? i feel like i've been making these double-shots for weeks now.”

the guy chuckled, “she's a busy lady, always on the run. i'm just the coffee messenger.”

jaehyun laughed, “ah, the coffee courier! well, i appreciate your dedication to delivering the caffeine goods. by the way, i never got your name. no need for introductions, you might already know mine.” he winked playfully.

he joined in the banter, “yeah, jaehyun the banter. the name's doyoung.”

grinning mischievously, jaehyun couldn't resist a playful jab, “so, doyoung, when do i get to see this 'double shots of espresso' lady in person? is she avoiding the legendary banter brewmaster?”

doyoung laughed, “oh, she's a mystery. always on a caffeine quest, but rarely spotted in the wild. you'll just have to keep brewing those double shots, and maybe one day she'll reveal herself.”

jaehyun, leaning on the counter, feigned disappointment, “ah, the elusive coffee connoisseur. i'll keep the banter extra sharp for her eventual appearance.”

their banter continued, with doyoung sharing more stories of his mysterious friend's coffee preferences, and jaehyun adding his own theatrical twists to each tale. the coffee shop, usually filled with the comforting aroma of brewing coffee, now also echoed with the shared laughter of the banter duo.

as doyoung left with his usual order, jaehyun called after him, “tell the espresso enthusiast she's missing out on some top-tier banter!”

doyoung waved back with a smile, “i'll let her know. maybe one day she'll take on the challenge.”

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

a few days passed, and jaehyun's mood seemed to uplift bit by bit. despite his persistent gloom, he managed to pull off the banter routine, but occasionally, a shadow still crossed his face. perhaps it was the absence of his favorite mystery regular, who hadn't made their double-shot order in days. the reason remained unknown.

one day, as jaehyun absentmindedly stared into the coffee beans, jungwoo, his ever-supportive colleague, nudged him, “hey, jaehyun, feeling the coffee blues again? missing the elusive double-shot enthusiast?”

he sighed, “yeah, it's been a while. wonder what happened to doyoung's friend. maybe she found a new favorite coffee spot.”

jungwoo grinned, “or maybe she's on a caffeine detox. you know, trying to banish the coffee spirits for a while.”

despite his lingering melancholy, jaehyun chuckled, “coffee detox? that's like trying to ban banter in here. impossible!”

jungwoo playfully continued, “maybe she's preparing a grand entrance. the return of the mysterious coffee lover, starring doyoung and jaehyun, the dynamic duo of banter and brew.”

jaehyun couldn't help but smile, “i like that plot twist. maybe we should spice up the banter even more. make her reappearance unforgettable.”

and there goes the ring, signaling a customer. jaehyun's eyes darted to the clock – exactly 4 pm. could it be—

“double espresso shots, please,” a voice requested, but it wasn't doyoung's.

jungwoo approached the counter with a friendly smile, “sure thing! we've got a thing for double shots today. what brings you here?”

the girl chuckled, “my friend got sick of me asking the same thing and told me to come myself.”

jungwoo's eyes lit up with recognition, “sounds familiar. are you perhaps doyoung's friend?”

caught off guard, you chuckled, “well, aren't you a detective in disguise? guilty as charged.”

jungwoo laughed, “you're the mystery double-shot enthusiast he's been talking about, aren't you?”

you nodded with a mock serious expression, “i am. i come in peace, armed only with an insatiable love for double shots.”

with a playful grin, jungwoo nudged jaehyun, who seemed momentarily lost in words. his sudden all-talk demeanor had vanished, leaving only silence in its wake. “well, lover boy, you heard her. make her the regular and show off your specialty.”

jaehyun, finally finding his words, chuckled, “alright, alright, the specialty it is. get ready for a taste bud adventure, espresso lady.”

as jaehyun prepared the coffee, he couldn't help but add, “i'll brew it with an extra sprinkle of magic, just for you.”

jungwoo teased, “a sprinkle of magic? watch out, jaehyun's turning into a coffee wizard. maybe he'll even add a dash of love potion.”

you laughed, “love potion in coffee? now that's a unique selling point. i'll take my chances.”

jaehyun worked on your regular order, jungwoo engaged you in conversation, “so, where's doyoung been? we've missed our fellow banter enthusiast.”

you shrugged, “oh, he's on a mission, exploring uncharted coffee territories. said something about discovering a hidden gem.”

jungwoo laughed, “hidden gem, huh? maybe he'll find the banter diamond mine. we could use some extra sparkle around here.”

you joined in the humor, “well, if anyone can uncover a banter diamond, it's doyoung. maybe he'll bring it back for the grand reopening.”

as the two of you bantered back and forth, jaehyun couldn't help but stare at you in awe. your playful demeanor and easygoing banter had injected a fresh energy into the coffee shop, and jaehyun found himself captivated by the newfound presence.

jaehyun gazed at you, his heart seemed to skip a beat, much like the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans that permeated the air. it wasn't just your captivating smile or the way your eyes lit up with each playful remark; it was an inexplicable warmth, akin to the comforting embrace of a perfectly brewed cup of coffee.

your laughter echoed in his mind like the melody of a well-steamed espresso machine, filling the quiet spaces with a delightful hum. jaehyun found himself enchanted by the way your eyes sparkled, reminiscent of the gleam on the surface of a freshly brewed espresso, rich and inviting.

he couldn't help but notice the graceful way you carried yourself, akin to the smooth and velvety texture of a well-poured latte. your presence was like the perfect coffee blend, a harmonious mix of sweet and bold, leaving an indelible imprint on his senses.

every word you spoke was a flavor note in his heart, a symphony of tastes that danced like frothy milk on the surface of a cappuccino. and as he crafted your specialty drink, he realized that, much like the meticulous art of brewing coffee, there was an art to the way you added a touch of magic to the ordinary.

perhaps it was the way your laughter lingered in the air, like the aromatic notes of a freshly brewed pour-over. or the gentle way you leaned in during the banter, reminiscent of the careful pour of a velvety flat white. jaehyun found himself lost in the warmth of your presence, much like the comforting embrace of a favorite coffee mug on a chilly morning.

and just like a well-prepared cup of coffee, you left an aftertaste — a sweet and lingering essence that made jaehyun yearn for more-

“oh shi-”

immersed in admiration of you, reality struck, and he yelped. his coffee daydreaming had led to an unintentional overpour, and a splash of hot coffee stung his hand. jungwoo, the good friend he is, burst into laughter.

“smooth move, barista extraordinaire!” jungwoo teased, laughter echoing through the coffee shop.

your playful grin hiding a hint of concern, quipped, “well, that's one way to spice up the brew, isn't it? hot coffee, hotter hands.”

jaehyun, now a mix of embarrassment and shyness, stammered, “w-well, you see, i was just, uh, lost in the aroma of the coffee, and then, um, things got a bit too dreamy . . .”

jungwoo, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, chimed in with a hearty laugh, “lost in the aroma, huh? i didn't know coffee daydreams could be so dangerous. maybe we should get you a helmet, buddy, to protect you from those hazardous beans.”

“who knew coffee brewing could be such an extreme sport? i'll have to be careful around here, might get caught in the crossfire of a barista's daydream.” you playfully added.

the poor barista, still recovering from the coffee mishap, managed a sheepish grin, “s-sorry about that. i guess my mind wandered into the coffee fields without a map.”

jungwoo, still relishing the moment, teased, “more like into the coffee clouds. next time, warn us before you take a caffeine-powered trip, captain jaehyun.”

with a playful grin, he nudged jaehyun and added, “or is it because you're nervous? coffee daydreaming might be your secret escape from the mysteries of the heart.”

jaehyun, now fully embracing the good-natured banter, rolled his eyes, “nervous? please, i handle coffee pressure like a pro. it's just, uh, occupational hazards.”

you, shyly enjoying the banter, quipped, “well, captain jaehyun, if your coffee daydreams are anything to go by, i'd say you're navigating the coffee seas just fine.”

jungwoo, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, continued to playfully prod, “maybe you need a co-captain to help you steer through those daydream storms. preferably someone with a good sense of direction.”

the trio chuckled, the coffee shop once again filled with the lighthearted melody of their banter. as the laughter subsided, jaehyun, with a flourish, finished preparing your coffee and handed it to you.

“here you go, espresso navigator. a brew crafted with the precision of a well-charted course and the heart of a caffeine adventurer. may it fuel your journey until our next coffee-filled escapade.”

you, smiling at the banter, accepted the cup with a playful thank you.

finally, you prepared to leave, the banter had woven a comfortable atmosphere, and you playfully remarked, “well, my lunch break is up, it's my cue to leave. thanks for the coffee and laughter, boys. see you around.”

jungwoo, ever the jester, grinned, “anytime you need a caffeine pick-me-up or a good laugh, you know where to find us.”

jaehyun, still recovering from his coffee mishap, added with a sheepish smile, “yeah, and next time, i promise not to turn the coffee shop into a comedy stage.”

you chuckled warmly, “oh, i don't mind a bit of coffee theater. it adds to the charm. and by the way, even if doyoung warned me you both are double trouble, i must say, you're not so bad after all.”

as you gracefully walked out, jaehyun, struck by an unexpected surge of realization, dramatically grasped jungwoo, who nearly tripped in bewildered confusion.

“i forgot to ask for her number!” jaehyun exclaimed, wide-eyed and dramatically clutching his chest as if he'd missed out on the last bean in the coffee bag.

jungwoo, eyes rolling, retorted, “your moves are as weak as decaf. you didn't even bother with the name.”

their banter continued, a hilarious exchange of blame and accusations, transforming the coffee shop into a spontaneous comedy show. back and forth they went until, in the midst of their banter, the closing lines arrived.

“next time, maybe start with a simple 'hi, i'm jaehyun.' that might save you from tripping over both words and your own feet.” suggested jungwoo with a sly grin.

but jaehyun, seemingly lost in his own world, responded with a dreamy smile, “i think i might be in love.”

jungwoo, catching onto the shift in the atmosphere, raised an eyebrow and remarked, “love? you sure it's not just a caffeine-induced daydream?”

jaehyun, still smiling, shrugged, “who knows? maybe my heart just found its favorite blend.”

[kyokutsu-sama]

My wife, My everything

"The storm inside him was over, now all that was left was the comfort of being in the arms of his beloved" Tw: Nsfw content, angst/confort Author's note: Soo, I'ts been raining where I live again and it gave me some quitet and a bit of angst vibes. Long live rainy days💙. I written some scenarios like this one and I will post them later (I'm already writing one for Jushiro too).

_____________________________

It was past midnight and you were still in the bedroom waiting for shunsui but he still hadn't arrived and you were starting to get worried about his delay. He didn't usually take that long to come home unless he had gone somewhere but he used to let you know before he left so you wouldn't be worried, but he hadn't that night. You tried to go to the places where he used to go but no one had seen him. Your heart was only relieved when you went to the first division office and found him with his arms crossed on top of the table and his head in the middle of them hiding his face. You looked at him for a moment and you could see that he wasn't well, the empty drink bottles beside the table also cleared your doubts about what had happened.

"Shunsui? Is everything alright with you?"You crouched down next to him passing your hand over his back trying to get some response out of him

"Did you come to see me Y/n-chan ? I'm sorry for making you worry" His voice sounded like a distant and deep whisper

"It's okay, you were taking so long and since you hadn't said anything I came looking for you. What happened here?"

"Don't worry flower, I was just finishing some things but I already was on my way"He lift his head and looked at you with a sleepy face and a melancholy look

"...finishing some things, he say..." you thought after seeing the empty bottles next to him

"Have you been crying?"You put your hands up to his cheeks as you noticed his slightly dry and red eyes

"No, I'm fine. I probably ended up being careless with the drink again. Nanao will kill me if she finds out that I'm drinking at work" He laughed trying to hide it but you weren't convinced

"Come with me, I'll take you home. You don't look well at all "You tried to help him get up from the chair

He had some difficulty standing up straight so he leaned on you so he could walk straight. You opened the door and walked out with him leaning on you until you got home.

Already after you got home, you took him to the bedroom and sat him on the edge of the bed, you sat down next to him looking at his face that looked so haggard and melancholic. His eyes were blank and his face expressionless, you had never seen him like this before.

"Do you want to tell me what happened to you?"

"I don't want you to be sad Y/n-chan"He looked at you and gave you a slight smile

"I won't, I promise. Please tell me what you're feeling?"

"I'm not feeling good, not good at all. I just wish I had some company to drink with again, like old times"You realized at that moment that he was referring to the loss of his loved ones. "You know, I don't like to cry especially when you're around, a woman as beautiful as you shouldn't carry the pains of a man like me"

"Don’t say that, I promised to stay by your side and help you with these heavy burdens. You don't deserve this, you've been very strong all this time and you need someone by your side to support you and I'm that person, I'm your wife, don't forget about me"You said holding his hands

"I know my flower, but I just don't want you to suffer too, this pain is not something easy to bear"

"I know, but you don't have to keep everything to yourself. It destroys you and leaves you like this, and I don't like seeing you with a sad face. Come here"You pulled him into a hug putting his head next to your chest while you ran your fingers through his brown and wavy strands

You felt his body get lighter after a while, he seemed calmer now and the sparkle in his eyes was slowly returning. You couldn't help but give a little smile after seeing that he were feeling better, even though he was still feeling that pain in his chest. You just wanted to see him smile again

"Are you feeling better now ?"

"Yes, much better. Your chest really works miracles”He said in his usual perverted way

"You really don't change, even though you're suffering you don't miss an opportunity to make one of your jokes" You pushed him away from your chest

"But I'm praising you"

"Praising me? Oh shut up"You slap him on the shoulder and he laughed

You calmed the chaos in his heart and it was you he needed at that moment. Even though he lost a lot of people, life put you in his path with a purpose and that purpose was to help him be strong and smile again.

"Oh my, look at your clothes, take them off"

"Are you trying to start something Y/n?"He gave you a mischievous smile

"No, you just smell like booze and your clothes too"You sighed as you waited for him to take them off

"Fine, I'll do it now"He said starting to undress

You saw him taking off piece after piece and you reached out to take them. When you were turning to go put them in the laundry basket, you felt his hand grab you and turn you towards him to bring his lips together with yours. You were taken by surprise because of the sudden movement, your body fell apart in his arms and you ended up dropping his clothes on the floor. You placed your hands on his face and kissed him back slowly and passionately.

You couldn't tell if he was being overcome by drink or something else but when you looked into his eyes you saw more than just simple desire, you saw need and passion.

"I need you so much my flower"He whispered against your lips

"Shunsui I.."

You wanted to speak but he kissed you again making you forget anything else you were going to say at that moment. You ran your hands along his arms and then over his shoulders to steady yourself as you jumped into his lap. His hands held you and led you to the bed.

"I love you so much...you make me feel like this"He said as he brushed his lips over your neck

Your breathing started getting uneven and your body was starting to heat up. He took off the fabric that was covering your naked body and couldn't help but curl his lips in a smile after seeing the way you looked so perfect and the way you look at him as if you were telling him to continue what he was doing. He felt so good to have you and when he was drinking he didn't hold back especially when you were around him and even when you scolding him for drinking so much, he he thought you were perfect. It wasn't the first time the two of you had been in such a scenario, but it was the first time he'd admitted he wasn't well. He always remained calm and rarely spoke of his sorrows, as he did not want others to suffer too. As his wife, you learn how to read in his eyes what he was feeling, it was difficult at first but over the years you managed to better understand what his good days and his bad days were.

He started to trailed his lips down your neck to your collarbone as he lifted his gaze to meet any expression on your face. He continued to taste your skin until his lips reach between your thighs. The little stubble hairs scratched the skin on the inside of your thigh as he kissed your skin and down to your folds, you felt a shivers as he placed a kiss on your little bud. 

He wrapped his arms around your thighs keeping you closer to his face, you moaned when you felt his lips leaving wet kisses on you. You held onto his brown strands as you rubbed your hips lightly against him, your back arched and you rolled your eyes in pleasure. His tongue in you was more than enough for you to feel your body give in to the desire and make you come, your vision was blurry and you could feel small drops of sweat falling down your forehead. Your legs tremble as his touch rushes in and you come moments later.

He leaned over you and kissed you, his lips felt so soft and full of love. You could taste the yourself and the sake he had drunk, you placed your hands on his cheeks as you followed his lips over and over again.

"You make me feel so good"You whispered between the kiss

"No... it's you, it's you that makes me feel good, my dear"He tasted your lips again and again while his hands roamed your body

He moved away from you for a moment so that he could remove the last piece of clothing he had left and he approached you again. He hugged your body close to his to keep you as close as possible so he could feel every corner of you as he filled you slowly. You ran your hands over his back digging your nails in here and there as you moaned his name in his ear and told him not to stop. He kissed your temple and held one of your thighs as he moved in and out of you. He wasn't being too fast or too slow, a balanced and intense pace was what made you arch your back and hold onto his shoulders.

"You are so perfect my dear y/n..."He whispered close to your ear

You felt a little tear poking out of the corner of your eye that was the response to all that emotion and his care for you. He looked at you and wiped it with his thumb and then kissed your forehead.

"I love you so much"You whispered as you felt another tear fall down your eye

He smiled and kissed you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer. You needed him like he needed you, it was mutual and unbreakable.

You felt your insides tighten and your legs tremble and that's when you felt it coming.

"Come to me love"He said kissing your neck feeling your fluids drain out

You tipped your head back and moaned his name as you felt him come inside you shortly after. Both eyes met and you could see he looked much better now than before, your love colored his gaze.

"Are you feeling better my love?"You asked

"Yes. Thank you for everything Y/n-chan"He said showing his bright smile

"I love seeing that smile of yours, it makes me so happy too. Don't stop smiling my love"You ran your hand over his face

He held your hand and kissed it and then kissed your lips gently.

"Can I lie down on your chest, again?"He asked smiling at you

"You can, but don't you dare make any jokes of yours"You warned and he laughed

"Don't worry, I'm just going to get some sleep. I think I've had enough for today"

"Yeah, you're right"

He laid his head on your chest and you hugged him as you ran your fingers through his hair. You watched him as he fell asleep and soon after you fell asleep too.

"The storm inside him was over, now all that was left was the comfort of being in the arms of his beloved"

[johnwickb1tsch]

graphic by @treedaddymcpuffpuff 😍😘😘😘

~ Enigmatic Stranger ~ Part 2

a young!John Wick x fem!Reader roundrobin fic… by @sweetwolfcupcake , @treedaddymcpuffpuff , & @johnwickb1tsch

part 1

johnwickb1tsch

He’s following you. 

You know it’s the only explanation. 

You don’t really think he means you any harm, but…isn’t that how all those creepy stories on DATELINE begin? 

A neatly packed giftbag appears on your doorstep a few days later, containing your notebook and all your favorite pens. No note, but you know. 

He knows where you live.

You can’t call the cops–even if you wanted to. You just know it won’t do any good. 

And…you don’t really want to get him into trouble. You just want…

Well you don’t know what you want, dammit. A properly functioning brain around him, maybe. That would be helpful. 

The next time you’re in your favorite corner cafe, the barista tells you that your usual order has already been paid for. Happy holidays to you! 

Not nearly as thrilled about it as the nice girl was clearly expecting, you look around frantically. You know he’s here somewhere–in the corner? Across the room? That’s when you spot a flash of mocha dark eyes meeting yours from the other side of the window–outside. He gives you a smirk, and a little finger wave. 

Coward. 

You don’t know where you get the courage to march back out to the sidewalk with your fists clenched–maybe because deep down you know by the time you get out there, he’s already gone.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

It's a bit silly but you are the type to get excited when your breath clouds in front of you. You know how childish it is, and if someone would point that out, it might make you a little embarrassed. But for the most part, you barely care. The world is already miserable, last year, in retrospect was brighter and lighter than this year and life in general, is never going to be a fairy tale. So, why care?

You blow out your breath with a deliberate heaviness, smiling at the sight of the puffs of clouds escaping your nose and mouth as you make your way towards your apartment. It's freezing and you are reminded of your pending grocery shopping.

Oh right, you want to make the perfect cup of hot chocolate and eat healthy for once. It was...what? Your last year's resolution?

New Year resolutions are stupid anyway...

You think as you put the needed items in your cart. Where was the---Your car bumps into a surface before it is held firmly still. You look up immediately, ready to apologise when your eyes meet a similar dark pair. His hair is slightly tousled, and it's unfair because now, besides being devastatingly handsome, he is also cute. To any passerby, he would be an attractive and cute stranger.

He is technically a stranger to you as well. But your eyes are not tricked by this. A panther looks adorable too, as long as it's on the TV screen, in the zoo or far away. A panther right in front of you will make your life flash before your eyes.

He is the panther. Dressed in black, he reminds you of a black panther---dark, majestic, rare, almost mystical. But the eyes...They are everything you fear and crave. You see the quiet melancholy, the yearning, the kindness, and then the depth, the darkness, the...hunger. You have never seen so many contradictions at once.

(ref image)

"Be careful."

There it is, the slight curl of his lips and your cheeks are heated again.

"I'm sorry." You manage to whisper out and attempt to pull back your cart. But he holds it in place.

Why are you reminded of the wildlife adventure tale where the protagonist comes face to face with a wolf and begins to back away? Why does it make so much now?

"Please excuse me." You frown at his hand holding your shopping cart. It's not as assertive as you would have liked it but at least you show your displeasure.

"Oh, my bad." There is an amused gleam in his eyes as he lets go of your cart. "You should be careful walking around," he adds after a moment of pause and a little twinkle in his eyes which grow slightly softer.

In silence only nod and back away,  waiting for him to pass by as you pull your cart aside. You sigh when he makes no move. He just observes you, standing without even a basket, you notice.

Just pass by, it's not like he's going to pounce or something.

You tell yourself before gathering enough courage and breezing past him. All the while, your heart thumps in the way you are familiar with. you have got a fat crush on him, but he also scares you.

He is this mysterious, brooding stranger who has been kind to you. But he carries an aura that makes your sixth sense stand still and stiff in alert, and have your body pumping adrenaline for a fight or flight response.

No, this man is not good for your health. Besides, you are sure he has been following you around and if this doesn't make you run in the other direction or activate your self-preservation, you don't know what really will.

Such men look good only in fiction.

You tell yourself as you grab the first item you see on the shelf, disregarding your brand preference and rushing towards check out.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

This is ridiculous. You are a grown woman. You shouldn’t be pining after some boy like in the school playground when your hormones were raging, out of control beasts. You have your own place, your own car, take care of yourself quite well, actually, thank you, and it kinda sorta maybe feels like you’re being intimidated by a man right now.

That will just not do at all. 

However, you don’t want to make assumptions. Sure, every part of this dance with handsome, dangerous, sometimes blood speckled stranger seems like you’re being hunted—followed, but what if it’s just a coincidence? What if your paranoid and anxious, creative mind has gone too far—again?

These thoughts, the flimsy ones that protect your pride and sanity, are also the ones that make your tongue dry up and your voice shrivel the next time you see him at the library. He’s sitting at your usual spot, nestled into one of the big stapled chairs with the huge tome of Aesop’s Fables looking way too tiny balanced in his big hands. 

Before you can turn on your heels and put your tail between your legs, he speaks, a speck of amusement tinkling in his dark, velvet voice that makes your tummy hurt. “Are you ever going to ask me why I’m following you?” 

Oh. Oh. There it is. Your suspicions confirmed. Or maybe he’s just fucking with you. Either way, what a dick move, and that nervous boil in your belly turns sour with anger in seconds. 

“You’re…following me?!” You try it as a roaring demand but it comes out like a timid squeak.  

He shuts his book softly, and looks over at you, eyes roaming once over your body—stiff shoulders, little Pride and Prejudice book clutched white in your knuckles, legs twitching with the urge to run. “That’s what I said, yes.”

“Well—I’m—“ your voice crescendos into a tight, high whine, wheezing and struggling to escape from your bone dry throat. “I’m calling the police, then.”

A couple people are looking over at the two of you now—he notices and you don’t. And, he should get you out of here before this escalates any further, but Jesus Christ you’re so delectable and sweet and too innocent for even that book you’re holding, so instead he chuckles at your threat. Laughs at you. 

Your hand twitches to slap him, and you think maybe this is how it feels when the tiny mouse bites the big hungry snake in a last ditch effort to escape death. “I’m not kidding, stay the hell away from me. I will—“

How in the world does he move so fast—quietly, too, pressing you back into an alcove of shelves before you can scream or think or fight. You feel the worn spines of adult fiction digging into your back as he settles his hand over your mouth.  “I am following you,” he says again, “because someone else is trying to hurt you, and I need to know why.” 

You barely hear or care what he’s saying, before all of your teeth sink into the hard flesh of his palm, and you bite. You bite like the mouse, and the serpent curses and loosens just enough so that you can wriggle out of his grasp and run for your life.

Johnwickb1tsch:

You’re not stupid. 

Usually you would never be out alone this late at night, but you had a bad day at work, so you decided to treat yourself seeing a movie, and then your subway train broke down. You had to walk for blocks, and you are exhausted, and freezing, and your feet hurt. 

It’s like this man can just materialize from the shadows. Like he’s some kind of fucking ghost. 

You don’t try to run this time. You just freeze, looking up at him with your big woodland creature eyes. You notice he has a bandage on his hand, and you wonder if he’s going to pay you back for that. 

“Please don’t hurt me.” You hate how small your voice sounds. 

“If I was going to, wouldn’t I have done it by now?”

“Unless you like playing with me.” It leaves your lips before you even realize what you’re saying, and the sardonic curl of the corner of his mouth floods you with agonizing embarrassment. 

“I do, but you still shouldn’t be out here alone this late.”

“Subway broke.”

“Then take a taxi.”

“I’m broke.”

He just growls in response to that, maybe understanding all too well. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“I can walk beside you, or behind you. Pick one.” 

Sweetwolfcupcake: 

You try not to steal glances at him as he walks beside you. You are keeping an eye on him. At least this is what you tell yourself. The silence is nowhere near suffocating, but it is tense. Not the confrontational type of tense but with the kind that comes with the acknowledgement that the man you have a fat crush on, claims that some other people are following you, and now, he is walking you home, being all gentlemanly after almost creeping the daylights out of you with his antics.

Well, for someone very comfortable with her mundane life, this is a lot to take in for you. And yes, you would admit that seeing him so often and the way you can't seem to stop yourself from thinking of him every now and then, you realise that you love your solitude, but you also are lonely and crave as just as much as love, shelter and support that any normal human around you. No matter how many philosophical texts you have come across, and understood, you know that you are not above the person you pass by. Your needs are just as humane, you are still bound by the social expectations, your thoughts, your doubts, your dreams and your emotions. You are no saint.

But you also know that the least you can do is to avoid a man like him who exudes danger and yet holds an allure so strong that it makes you weak on your knees. You know that men like him are either a lesson or a lifetime's worth of wait. You should not allow your heart to flutter the way it does when he stands close behind you while you unlock your apartment door.

Is he going to follow you in?

Should you even allow that?

Thankfully, your rational mind kicks in at the right moment.

"Thanks for walking me home." You turn around, keeping the door closed. A clear indication that you do not want him following you in.

You really don't, right?

Stop reading foolish novels!

Mr Enigma, as you come up with the name, raises an eyebrow with that amused twinkle that makes your lips twitch, itching to smile for some reason.

It's not that the fear magically vanishes from you. No, it is there, but somewhere, you are growing comfortable with him. Not too comfortable, but enough to be able to stand your ground and try not to chicken out. Even though you find it hard to believe that there will be no repercussions for the bandaged hand.

"Isn't it rude to not invite your guests in?"

"You are not a guest."

His lips curl up again and even though it is faint, you can bet that he has a heart-melting smile.

His dark, deep eyes assess you for a moment before he relents and steps back, but it feels like a chess game trick. The type of move that makes the opponent feel at ease, while the person comes up with a check-mate.

"Okay, good night then."

You are relieved and partially scoff at your train of thought. Maybe you have been watching too many crime shows.

"Good night" You nod and turn around, opening your apartment door.

"Do not forget to lock the kitchen window."

"Yeah, thanks." You mumble as you enter your home before shutting the door.

The sigh of relief bubbling in your throat stops at the realisation that leaves you cold.

How the hell does he know about your kitchen window?

Treedaddymcpuffpuff: 

You really do plan on locking it initially, in your defense. That little rusted latch with the white paint chipped off—you wrap your fingers around the unpleasant texture of it and start to slide the lock into place, but then stop. It’s a bad idea. Terrible, even, to leave your window unlocked, to go specifically against Mr. Enigma’s word. 

You smile a little bit, probably out of sheer insanity, as you grab the ledge of the pane and tug that window fully open. Cool air is not the only thing that perks goosebumps on your skin as you look out into the street-lamp yellow night for a slinky black figure lurking just out of sight. 

You’re only going to leave it open for a few minutes, you promise yourself, bundling up on the couch with a thick blanket and cup of warm, spicy tea. Otherwise your heat bill will be astronomically high on this month’s statement, and you definitely can’t afford that again. 

You don’t have to wait long with that rapid expecting beat of your heart before a cold weight settles heavily into the couch beside you. You refuse to look up from Pride and Prejudice—the childish games we still play—as if you’re the 16 year old again with a mad crush on the guy that wears leather jackets and smokes behind the bleachers and trying desperately not to prove it.

“It’s okay,” he assures, “I have all night.” 

“Just a couple more pages.” Trying banter with him feels so oddly natural that it scares you, much like everything else about this man. You try to swallow and have 0 saliva to do it with.

You have no idea what the last five pages even say, no matter how many times you try to read the lines over again, because it’s impossible to focus on anything but his increasingly warming body on the other side of your little sectional, still as stone.

When you finally shut it and look over at him, he’s smiling a little bit again, like he can’t help but be entertained by your shy demeanor. You purse your lips to avoid nervous giggles—or maybe terrified screaming—whatever works. 

“I told you to lock your window,” he says. 

You open your mouth to say something witty, but instead the insolent child comes out. “You’re not the boss of me.”

Johnwickb1tsch:

“Oh no?"

"No." Where you get the pluck to lift your chin at this man, you don't know.

"I’m just trying to keep you safe. You’re not helping, by the way.” He still seems amused, but there’s a hard undercurrent in his words.

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why do you care? Why did you warn me, that day in the park?”

“Because I could tell you’re innocent.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about me.”

The corner of his mouth turns up at that. 

“Okay. Have you ever killed anyone?”

Your heart stutters. “No…”

“Right. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. You even give the pigeons right of way on the sidewalk.”

You sigh resignedly. Maybe he’s got your number after all.

“And I know you love books. I know you like vanilla roast with so much milk and sugar in it that it barely passes for coffee.”

You stick your tongue out at him for that. Maybe it’s a mistake, because you see the glitter of laughter in his dark eyes…and they fixate on your mouth for a long, pregnant, second.

“I know that in a different life, I would have liked to meet a girl like you.”

You’re not sure why you feel sorry for him in that moment. He’s practically a stranger, and he broke into your apartment. You should be scared, not wanting to hold his hand. You shouldn’t be excited, that he is still looking at your mouth. 

When he touches your chin lightly with one long finger, angling your face towards him, you freeze. Can he feel you shaking? You don’t even know if it’s anticipation, or fear. If he actually kisses you…you might implode.

This is it, and there isn’t anything you can do to stop it.

Whether it be resignation, or surrender, you close your eyes, and you feel him lean in, the warmth of his mouth hovering over yours. 

“I’m a bad man, y/n,” he says quietly, so close you feel his breath on your lips, and you swear your heart stops. “So lock. Your damn. Window.”

Then he’s gone, as though he disappeared into thin air like a ghost–or The Boogeyman. Only the flutter of your curtains indicates that he was ever actually there.

Suddenly, your limbs feel numb, and you can’t tell if you’re relieved–or disappointed.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

For once, you take out the tea bags and prepare a cup for yourself. It has been four days since the eventful night and there is no sign of your Mr Enigma. You're not counting, you just have selective memory.

You pause, realising that you thought of him as 'yours'. Nothing could be further than the truth, which should not bother you.

It does not upset you to the standards of being truly upset, but there is this disappointment. He clearly said that he wished it were in another life that he met you. And you take it as a sign that he clearly does not want to be involved with you. If he can't or if he was being just kind at the moment, you don't know.

The universe has its funny ways---wait, you don't believe in these silly theories.

You do not want to think of why you closed your eyes that night. What were you expecting? A kiss?

You smile sardonically as you fill your cup with warm water before dropping the tea bag. Has life not taught you enough? People like you are not made for 'love stories', or even 'miracles'. No, people like you see through the shit the world has built around. All those couples smiling and lying to each other. All the aged-up 'perfect' pairs resenting one another till the day of their death when they wish they had never met each other.

You see that all around you. No matter how much effort one puts in, the other somehow manages to smash it all. You love too much, you end up hurt, you love with restraint, and regret kills you from within.

Love isn't for people like you. You do not believe that you have anything to give after what you already lost a few years ago. The night when you waited in the rain for that one man you loved to turn up.

Something turned numb in you eventually.

One man with haunting eyes can not hurt you. You decide and sip your tea, trying to shove his thoughts somewhere far away.

-----

You find yourself at your favoured corner table in the cafe again. The sun set a while ago and while you are tired after work, the Christmas special offer on the hot chocolate chimed its bell for you.

Okay, you love hot chocolate and even if there were no offer, you would have gone for it.

Taking out your notepad, you begin to scribble out the words that refuse to leave your mind until they bleed into paper. A short poem of six lines. But as soon as you read it again, you know it is all about him.

Wow.

You are one messed up woman.

You sigh and put your head down on the table. Along the internal monologue of self-slander, the aroma of hot chocolate wafts through and it has your attention already. You look up to find a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of you before you hear the chair scrapping. Y

You blink. There he is again, sitting in front of you with your notepad in his hand.

Shit!

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

”I locked my window,” you say.

“But not your door,” he muses, a dark eyebrow raising.

“Shit.” 

“If you keep being careless, I might have to take you home with me to keep you safe.” 

“You said you’re dangerous, so how would I be safe with you, exactly?” To your credit, the sarcasm is biting a little harder through your tone, now as you grow accustomed to his presence.

“Safe from everyone but me,” he revises.

“Then how is that safe?” You ask, even growing the balls to roll your eyes. You bring the steaming mug up to take a rich, chocolatey drink, and the liquid almost spills over with the nervous quake of your hands. 

“Safe in the sense of being alive.” 

“So…you don’t want to kill me?”

He snorts. “Far from it.” 

You have to think about that for a minute. What in the ever loving hell is he talking about? He’s dangerous, so you have to lock your window. He’s safe, so you might have to go home with him. He doesn’t want to kill you, he was to do the opposite? He’s so very fucking handsome with that dark scruff just edging on unruly, curling over his sharp face. That heavy, angled nose and those fucking cheekbones. 

“Something you want to ask?” He goads, leaning a bit more toward you, that pretty mouth curled into a serpent’s smile. 

“What..” You swallow sand. “What’s your name?”

[halosdiary]

somnolent | Mermaid!Choso x Fisherman!Reader | 呪術廻戦

a/n: Aww yeah! Plot twist and part 3! This is gonna STIIING.

contains: Choso being Choso, hypnosis, implied murder, obsession

wc: 2k

You both were just staring at each other, in the middle of the town square. People were coming and going. It felt like time stopped between them. He looked at with those beautiful dead brown eyes. You feel like you were in those silly romantic scenes where the main character has a "love at first sight" scene. You snap out of at and looked at him curiously.

"You..I'm sorry, have we met before?"

The man looked a little hurt. He couldn't believe you didn't remember him. All he did was gently stroke your cheek. His hand was cold and wet, he loved the way you felt. But he couldn't blow his cover, for his family's sake, for his sake.

“No…we’ve never met.” He sadly answered you.

He continued to walk away from you. You stood there curiously, you can't shake that feeling of that mysterious man. You didn't see where he went, but it was like he disappeared. Choso looked back at you from the sea, his appearance changing more aquatic like. Unfortunately, this became an annoying routine for the both of them, you bump into each other, but avoid each other like the plague. This separation was driving then man crazy. Every second he was away from you was driving him crazy. He didn't realize it, but he was slowly growing an obsession with you.

Choso wanted to speak to you, but needed a little help. He LOATHED, seeing you just socialize with others like you. Potential dates? Nope, you'd find out they just vanished, but you did find some gifts left behind, for you. Theu were sweet, kind and from the sea?

You couldn't tell, but you felt like you've seen him before. But you don't know  where. You placed a finger on your chin, tapping it like you were thinking. All he could do was look at you.

"You just look..familiar to me." Was all you could muster.

“Maybe we were acquainted in a past life…” He says to you.

Past life? What did he mean by that? This was the only life you knew of, born on land, still living your best life. There was something off, about him. This man was a bit aloof, but you couldn't deny he was really cute.

"Maybe." You answered.

You two parted ways once again, the next time you two would meet. You'd talk would talk to him again. Funny enough, Choso didn't mind this at all. He was just in high spirits he's talking to you. A week passes back and you two meet again. The awkwardness had to end at some point. You slowly turn to leave,but he gently reached out to you.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Choso asks you.

"Yes?" I look at him with curiosity in my eyes.

“Have you ever been in love?”

"...I have." You said honestly, with a bit of a sad smile.

You then look back at him, seeing as his eyes were very curious for me. You try to make the sad feeling go away, but he can feel it.

"Sometimes, it doesn't last forever. But that's just me."

He’s taken aback by your look of melancholy. Choso can’t help but wonder about the reason behind your sorrow.

“You still seem to miss whoever it is you loved.”

"Not really, only the happy memories. Before they became what they became. Something unrecognizable."

I clenched my sweater a bit, looking off into the distance. Those happy memories on replay in my mind, but I soon snap back to reality.

"I'm sorry, I'm guessing you wanna know what falling in love feels like?"

He studies your face, looking for any hint of deceit, but all Choso sees is a somber sincerity. He nods.

“Yes, I want to know what it feels like. Love and emotions in general are foreign concepts to me…so I’m merely curious.”

"That's alright." You sit by a near bench and offer him a seat.

"Falling in love, well? I don't really know how to put it." You say to him with a small laughter.

He sits down next to you, his gaze unwavering, and listening intently to your every word. He remains silent, inviting you to continue.

"I do know. It feels like you're flying. All you can really think about is that person and that person alone." You continued on.

"You feel your heart skip a beat whenever they're near by." You blush a bit.

You always remembered how this feeling was. It felt euphoric, blissful. I unintentionally lie my hand on top of his.

Choso flinches when you place your hand on top of his, the unexpected gesture causing his heart to flutter. For a brief moment, Choso’s eyes widen before he quickly composes himself, his expression returning to the stoic look he always wore. He felt something strange stirring within his chest, a mixture of confusion and surprise. He was trying extremely hard not to focus on your touch.

“And then what happens?”

"Well? That's up for you do decide. If the feelings mutual it's the most wonderful thing in the world. If not? It will hurt, but it won't damage you if you let it."

He slowly exhales, trying to keep his breathing steady as you continue to touch his hand. The flutter in his chest is only growing more intense each passing second, the longer your hand remains on his.

“And that’s it? Those are the only feelings associated with it? Feeling like you’re flying? Your heart skipping a beat?”

You nod at him. You didn't know this pang you were feeling. Again, something about this man was all too familiar. But he was really nice to talk to.

"It's like finding your other half. That other half making you feel whole."

Each of your words seemed to send a jolt through Choso’s body, as though your explanation of love was creating a physical effect on him. He couldn’t deny the strange reaction your words and touch was having on him. He suddenly wanted to remove his hand from yours, but something was stopping him. His eyes slowly traveled down to where your hand was resting on top of his. He tried to ignore how gentle your touch was, and how his own hand seemed to subconsciously curl into yours.

You finally realized you had my hand on top of his. You slowly removed it and apologized to him. This must've made him feel awkward. You didn't mean to make it weird. The absence of your touch seemed to leave him feeling colder than before. He flexed his hand once, allowing his fingers to spread out like yours previously had. He tried to ignore the strange pang in his chest as a result of the loss of your touch, and also the urge he now had to reach out for your hand again. But Choso kept his hand firmly planted on his lap.

“You don’t have to apologize…I didn’t mind it.” Choso stated.

It was silent, his did feel cold, but it also felt comforting. I could feel my heart skipping a beat. I slowly placed my hand on top of his hand once more. The instant your hand made contact with his once more, it took all the strength Choso possessed to suppress a shiver that wanted to run up his spine. He suddenly found it difficult to look at you, and a light pink blush dusted his cheeks. He slowly moved his fingers to intertwine with yours, his heart thudding so hard within his chest, Choso feared it would burst.

You giggled at how flushed he'd become. It really was a big softie, despite his melancholic look.

"Well, look at that. You're blushing." You teased him.

He scowls in embarrassment, trying to ignore the way your teasing made his chest ache. He wanted to pull away, but that would mean having to pull away from your touch again, and even just the thought of it made him hesitate.

“Shut up…I’m not blushing.” He retorted.

"Are you sure about that?" You raised a brow at him, along with giving him a smirk.

He refused to look at your face now that you were giving him that goddamn smile. It sent a jolt straight through him, and it had his stomach doing flip-flops. Choso let out a shaky exhale, attempting again to keep his breathing from becoming uneven.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He lied.

"Y’know despite these little run ins. It's really nice talking to you." I admitted to him.

He finally musters the courage to meet your eyes once more, though his cheeks had now reddened a bit more from your comment. He subconsciously tightened his grip on your hand, the feeling of your skin against his making Choso’s heart flutter. He tried to keep his breathing steady as he gave you a nod in response.

“I’ve enjoyed talking to you, as well.”

You look down at his hand as he holds onto it a bit tightly. You couldn't help but feel my face heat up as well. You could feel your heart flutter rapidly.

"Can you feel it?" You asked him quietly.

He couldn’t help but notice the color rising to your cheeks, finding it strangely satisfying to know he was able to make you blush like he had been. Choso was fully focused on you now, his gaze unwavering, as his thumb gently stroked the back of your hand.

“Feel what?”

"That floating feeling I told you about?" I asked him.

I didn't let go of his hand, gently rubbing my thumb on his hand. I looked in the distance, seeing trees and leaves being blown away by the wind.

Choso subconsciously held his breath as your thumb began stroking his own, his heart threatening to give out at the feeling. The fluttering in his chest had only increased from your touch, and he suddenly felt more than a little lightheaded. Even so, he didn’t pull away. He just allowed himself to feel the way he was feeling, though it was completely foreign to him. Choso swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice coming out a bit shaky.

“Yes…I feel it.”

"That feeling of feeling completely whole?" I continued to ask him.

He could feel the heat on his face burning up, no doubt causing him to look like a complete fool, but he didn’t care. Not when you were sitting here talking like this to him, while your hand was still wrapped up in his. The feeling of your thumb grazing his skin made every inch of him feel like it was on fire, and the way his heart was wildly thumping in his chest was enough to make him dizzy.

“Y-Yes…I feel it. It’s hard to concentrate when you do that, though…”

"Don't overthink it." You gently take his hand and looked into his eyes. For some reason, you couldn't stop smiling at him.

He couldn’t help but shiver from the feeling he got when you held his gaze. He was hyper-aware of every point of contact between the two of you, and the urge to reach up and touch your face was almost too much to bear. His face reddened even more, and he found himself returning your smile with a small but warm one of his own.

“I’m not…overthinking it.” He said in a shaky voice.

"Alright. I don't want you to feel pressured." You stated.

I continued to look in the distance. Still holding his hand, you slowly leaned on his shoulder.

His brain stopped functioning and his heart stuttered when you suddenly rested your head on his shoulder. Choso felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. But he quickly adjusted, and slowly relaxed the tension in his shoulders. He even let his head rest against yours, feeling a strange sense of serenity wash over his body.

“I feel anything but pressured…” He muttered to you.

This was his dream come true. They're both talking to each other. You're holding his hand, and even accepting his gifts. He looked into the distance as he smiled. Unfortunately all good things turn back, he wanted to love you. He looks into your beautiful eyes. Your beautiful hypnotized eyes.

TAGLIST: @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @littlemochabunni @bleach-your-panties @blkkizzat @buttercupblu

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: 5:35 AM

Tags/Warnings: melancholy, Idol!Jungkook, Fluff, Established Relationship, SFW, implied foreigner!Reader, not home AU though

Lenght: very short.

Languages are marked as English / Korean.

AU-Masterlist

This AU doesn't have a name yet, so I'm simply using times as a name for now.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"Hm?" You can hear him shuffling around sleepily around the house, entering the loving room where you sit in front of the opened windows, cold air doing no harm to you since you're bundled up in a thick blanket usually laid somewhere on the sofa. "Why're you up?" He wonders, slurs his words since he probably just woke up after noticing you gone. Or maybe the cold air had found its way into the bedroom. You'd made sure to close the door to prevent that.

"Sorry." You say, as he gets closer to you, unfolds the blanket to steal it from you, making you whine. But he doesn't take it for himself- he simply sits behind you, his legs around yours before he covers you both in it. He sighs happily, resting his head in the crook of your neck, your hair still smelling like a mixture of the detergent he uses to wash his sheets, and the conditioner you always use- a blissfully mix of you and his home.

"No sorry." He mumbles sleepily, voice deep and raspy against your skin. "Sad?" He wonders, and you just shrug, watching all the cars pass by down, far far down below. Seoul never sleeps, never rests. There's no silence in this city, no time where the streets are empty or the mourning doves purr their songs as they accompany your way to school. Has he ever heard them? Does he share memories like that?

He probably doesn't. You know as much, because the way you both grew up couldn't be more different.

"Hm, no." You answer him, leaning back into his chest as he wraps his arms more closely around you, holding his wrist against your collarbone as he begins to sway you both from side to side. "Just.. I'm not sure." You fail to explain, eyes watering. "I don't know." You say, unsure why you cry now.

Is this what homesickness feels like? But you don't miss home.

You're right here.

Homesickness shouldn't be the word. Memory-sick is what you might be, that would make more sense. You want to have dinner at your grandpa's house again, play with his dog in the backyard while he hangs up the laundry. You want to put a blanket on the grass again and just take a nap while the warm spring breeze shakes the trees around you.

You want to go back in time, but you also don't. Because back in time, there's no him. Back in time, there's no.. this.

"Crybaby.." he chuckles, wipes your cheeks as he sways you a bit more. "Now I'm crying with you.. and I don't even know why." He laughs, and you laugh too.

"I want to.. go back." You tell him. "In time. When I was.. small." You tell him, and he nods.

"I can understand that." He says, nodding as he sniffles, wiping his own cheeks. "Would be nice. If we could, visit old times again, right?" He wonders. You shake your head. He chuckles. "No?"

"There's no you." You whine pitifully. "So I don't want to go back." You say, and he squeezes you closer.

"Aigoo.." he mumbles against your skin, kissing your shoulder. "What if we.. hm, combine?" He asks, and you turn a bit, looking at him. He instantly coos at your tear stained face and round sparkling eyes, mirroring his own who are still partially closed from sleep. "The picture, on your wall." He explains. "In the bedroom. When you were tiny." He teases, and you laugh. "We can go.. take a vacation. Put out a blanket. Nap in the sun. Have sandwiches at the beach. Make sand castles." He offers. "But this time together."

"Thats silly though." You decline. "We're adults now."

"So?" He pouts. "I want go make sandcastles with my girlfriend. So I'm gonna do it!" He proudly exclaims, and you laugh, leaning back into him while you watch the sun rise.

"Sorry. For.. crying. For no reason." You say, but he shakes his head.

"Its okay." He offers kindly. "Sometimes memories are so pretty that they make you sad."

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

[ssserpensortiaaa]

We neeeeeeed more James x Slytherin reader 😍

oh my it's been a while but let's just think about this for a second shall we:

James has been arguing with Slytherins his entire Hogwarts career

But at some point during final year he starts finding it difficult to keep going

He doesn't fully understand why, until one day when you're ranting in his face about how yesterday's quidditch results were a fix

It's the first real argument you've had in a while, and it's only because your accusations that Gryffindor would even need to cheat are frankly insane

And he's halfway through his rebuttal, glaring down at your face, when it occurs to him. And it's stupid but, Slytherin are out of the championship, which means -

You've played your final quidditch match together.

Ever

He doesn't even know where you're going after school ends

And you must see it in his face because you change too

Your shoulders drop and your eyes go a little bit wide

"Oh. I'm not sure I like that look."

James has to run a hand through his hair and huff out a laugh because he doesn't know what to do

7 years of petty arguments feel like they've just melted away with one stupid realisation

They're never going to play quidditch together again

Because they're about to fight a war

James blinks and studies your face again

It feels important now, to commit you to memory

His chest crushes in a bit when he starts to think about how things could have been, and how badly it could end up, all at once

He's wasted so much time

"Merlin, you're pretty"

It just comes out, before he stop it

And it's so mournful and melodramatic it sounds ridiculous

You take one look at him and laugh, and suddenly James can breathe again

"Sorry." He manages to choke out "Don't know where that came from"

You're cackling and it's gorgeous

"Impending doom really changes people, huh"

You're joking but it's true

And from that day on he can't seem to argue with you even a little bit

It's not for lack of trying, you bait him constantly

But somewhere along the way he manages to ask you questions and get a few answers that aren't sarcastic

And at some point he doesn't stop himself when he stands just a little closer to you than normal

One day he's walking with you to charms and he just absentmindedly takes the books from your hands and carries them for you

Sometimes you catch him looking at you and frowning, then running a hand through his hair in that cute way he does when he's stressed

That's when it occurs to you that you've been wanting to run your hands through his hair for... merlin knows how long now

And suddenly that same melancholy you laughed at when it was written all over his face the other day hits you like a train

Because you've just realised you had 7 years and you didn't use even one

You must have been staring because James' eyes flick back to yours and he holds your gaze steady for a few long seconds

Then he laughs, the bastard, and gives you an exaggerated shrug

Now he's mouthing 'impending doom' across the classroom and it finally shakes you out of it

Right, yeah. Everyone keeps doing it lately - thinking too much about the war and getting this glazed look and aching nostalgia

Your face must have been a picture

But he saddles up close to you at the end of class and dips his head down

His nose nuzzles into your neck as he murmurs

"Tell me what you were thinking about, just then"

You huff and roll your eyes to cover the shiver that wants to run down your spine

"A bad idea"

"Hmm." His hand circles your wrist and you have the horrible sense he's seeing right through you

"Sure. Tell me when you change your mind."

Then he's gone, and you're left talking yourself out of chasing after him

The parties start a few days after your little realisation

If there was one thing this impending war made everyone want to do, apparently it was drink

it didn't even matter where or with who

Which was how you found yourself tipsy and a little giggly, getting escorted back to your bed by James Potter

You've been tormented by that cream jumper he's wearing

It makes his shoulders look so broad but it also looks so soft

And now he's leaning against a wall and rolling it up his forearms while he checks round the corner for any patrolling teachers

And you can barely help it

"James?"

"Yes?"

"I think I'm changing my mind"

He has you in an empty classroom in ten seconds flat,

but you barely notice because your back is against the wall and his hands are around your thighs, easily lifting you up to wrap them around his waist

"You're sure?" He's murmuring against your lips

and you think you say "'s already too late" before you're kissing and it's so much better and all so much worse at the same time

because he's perfect, the kiss is perfect, the feel of his hair wrapped around your fingers is perfect, and you've done it all too late

and fuck, James is devastatingly good

He's groaning things in your ear that make you blush and then calling you sweet little names that make you melt inside

The second time you get him alone he winds a hand in your hair, pulling just enough to feel good, and makes you look him in the eye while he makes you come

He cooes at you while you do, telling you how beautiful you look, how good you are for him, and you're gone

The next time you can't quite choke back your sob while you say

"We did this too late"

But he grabs your chin and says

"Better make it count, then"

before making you see stars

That time he doesn't leave, just bundles you up in his arms and smuggles you right into his bed

He's just so warm and soft

It's the best night's sleep you've ever had

You wake up and see him looking at you with that sad expression again

You huff and close your eyes

"James?"

"Yeah?"

"We're absolutely fucked, aren't we?"

A laugh

"Yeah."