#Midday Blooms

[vodika-vibes]

Midday Blooms - Lilacs and Daffodils

Years after the Sith took control of Coruscant, the Coruscanti Citizens live on a series of Space Stations surrounding the planet, waiting for the day when they're allowed to return home. When it's safe to return home. The Clones, elite soldiers born of the DNA of Lord Jango Fett, make up the large majority of the fighting force, though not the entirety. And after it comes out that Lord Fett had elected to side with Count Dooku, a fallen Jedi Master, and that both men were pawns of none other than Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine, the men are freed from the chips, and any compulsions that would have them turn on the jedi, and the civilians they protect so ably. But even now the war rages on. The soldiers, and their Jedi Generals, rotate three month deployments to Coruscant, in the hopes that one day, they will be able to live on the planet that glitters over their heads. This is very tangentially a war story. Because I cannot write action. But I will do my best. Tagging: @starrrgazingbunny Ships: Marshal Commander Neyo x OC, Marshal Commander Bacara x OC

Nebula Space Station

Bell Manor - 10:00 am

“It’s only a matter of time,” Doctor Dee Bell said excitedly to his daughter as he waved his morning toast around over his head. He either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, that some of the jam had fallen off the bread and landed on his white jacket. “You’ll see, Talia! Someday soon, we’ll be able to resettle Coruscant.”

Talia shook her head in amusement, “Father, you’ve been saying that for years, and the soldiers are no closer to retaking Coruscant from the Sith today then they were when I was six,”

“Bah! That’s only because Lord Fett decided to throw his weight behind Dooku.”

“We’re fortunate that the Jedi figured out his plan before Palpatine enacted it,” Talia pointed out as she took a sip of her tea, and then made a face. Cold, yuck. “Though it’s a shame that Knight Skywalker decided to throw his weight behind Palpatine.”

“He’s an idiot. And he’s on the losing side.” Her father countered, “Why, even Senator Amidala has been denouncing his actions since the day he defected, and she’s the mother to his children.”

He trailed off as he finally remembered that he was in the middle of eating, and he took a bite of his, now plain, toast. And then he paused and squinted at Talia, “Don’t you have a Salon you’re supposed to go to today?”

“...No.” Talia lied, badly. Damn it, she was hoping he had forgotten about the Cunningham Salon. 

“Talia,”

Aw, man. The Disappointed Dad voice. 

“You cannot skip Betty’s Salon, she’s always so happy when you go and visit.”

“Yeah, but she’s awful.”

“She’s lonely.”

“She insults Ophelia constantly.”

“Maybe Ophelia deserves it.”

“Dad!”

“What? I know she’s your friend, but she is a bit of a wild child!”

“She’s calmed down a lot since we were in Finishing School, dad. You know she’s working at her father’s company now, right?”

“Is she really?” Her father looks surprised, “Huh, well. Even so, you should go get dressed for the party. You should wear the purple dress your grandmother bought you.”

“I look awful in purple.” Talia whined, acting much younger than her 22 years.

“Nonsense, you love purple. It’s your favorite color! And you look beautiful in it!”

“That’s worse! Betty will just accuse me of showing her up at her own Salon.”

“Nonsense. Now go and get dressed.”

Talia rolled her eyes, but allowed her father to propel her out of her seat and to the stairs. She supposed there was no way out of it now. Stupid dad actually remembering shit at inconvenient moments.

Still, it wouldn’t take her longer than, maybe, half an hour to get herself dressed and her hair and make-up done. Maybe she would go all out and put fresh flowers in her hair, rather than pulling it up into a fancy updo.

She would have to send Ophelia a message. Her best friend always was good at coming up with ways to make Betty look like the hag she was.

*********

Marshal Commander Neyo was not happy.

In his defense, he was rarely happy. Being a Marshal Commander often came with more responsibilities than rights, and he had spent the last three months on rotation on the front lines.

He was exhausted.

Down to his bones.

All he wanted to do was retire to the apartment the Government gave him, and sleep for the next 9 months, until his next rotation to Coruscant started.

But no.

He couldn’t.

Because Fucking Faie agreed to a fucking Salon.

He didn’t even know what a Salon was. A party of some kind, based on the fact that he was required to wear his dress uniform.

He scowled at the pure white uniform. It was perfect, of course, and covered in medals and awards that meant jack-shit in any real world scenario. He hated it. He was much more comfortable in his armor. Hell, even his blacks would be preferable to wearing that get-up.

“Don’t be such a grouch,” Faie said with a roll of his eyes. He was already wearing his dress uniform. “We’re going to be rubbing shoulders with high class ladies.”

Neyo considered shoving him out the window. He would probably get another medal of service for it.

“Lovely,” Bacara said in monotone, “Just how I wanted to spend my first day decompressing from battles. Schmoozing with the rich and lazy.”

“It’ll be fun.” Faie insisted.

“Your idea of fun used to be reading Reg manuals,” Neyo pointed out snidely.

Faie gasped, “He talks!”

The urge to shove him out the window got stronger. “Wow. It’s sad that you think you’re funny.” Neyo said.

Faie rolled his eyes again. Neyo hoped his eyes got stuck that way. “Look, we finally have rights. We might as well take advantage of them. Besides, Bly is coming too.”

Bacara’s fingers slipped on one of his buttons, “You managed to convince him to step away from General Secura long enough to flirt with rich ladies?”

“Of course not. General Secura ordered him to come.”

Oh. That made sense.

Wait-

“I thought Bly was about to rotate to Coruscant,” Neyo said absently, as though he was commenting on the weather.

“He was supposed to, but General Secura was injured, so her battalion and the Wolfpack switched places.” Bacara replied as he finished buttoning his jacket and made sure that his ribbons were straight, “Hurry up, Neyo. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can make our escape.”

Neyo was pretty sure that was a damned lie, but it was a nice lie, so he finally pulled his jacket on and started buttoning it. Stupid brothers. Always getting him involved in stupid shit.

Maybe there would be good food at this party, if nothing else.

******

Talia stepped out of the speeder and thanked her father’s droid with a kind smile. She had been in luck, mother’s lilac bush was still in bloom, which meant she had been able to weave the delicate purple flowers through her braid.

And they matched her dress and sandals. One point for Talia and none for Harpy Betty.

She cast her gaze around, and a bright smile crossed her face when she saw Ophelia waiting for her. She looked annoyed, though no one else would think that, as her friend had mastered the art of hiding her emotions behind a fan.

Her entire face brightened, though, when she saw Talia. Ophelia snapped her fan shut, and stepped over to her. “Tali, darling, I thought you weren’t coming!” She hugged Talia tightly.

“Sorry, there was awful traffic by the spaceport.” Talia smiled warmly, her gaze lingering on the crown of daffodils that Ophelia had perched on top of her neat, platinum blonde, hair. “You decided on yellow, then?”

Ophelia stepped back and twirled for Talia, showing off her vibrant yellow dress, “Betty told me that yellow wasn’t my color due to my hair,” She said, “So I decided to be petty.”

Talia’s smile became so achingly fond as she regarded her best friend of twenty years, “You’re always petty.” She said, warmly.

“Pssh. You were the one who suggested real flowers, rather than ribbons.” Ophelia grinned, “I already got a comment about my daffodils, from Anne, of course.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That it was unbecoming of me to try and show up Betty at her own Salon.” Ophelia rolled her eyes, “I could wear a trash bag, and still show her up.” She hooked her arm with Talia’s and tugged her towards the garden entrance, “It’s because she has the personality of a sewer rat.”

The pair stepped into the garden, and were immediately overwhelmed by the scent of roses. “Ew.” Talia whispered, “Roses, really? And red ones?”

Ophelia leaned in, “I heard that she’s hunting for a husband.”

“At a Salon?”

“Mm. She invited some of the men who recently returned from Coruscant.” Ophelia replied, as she cast her gaze around the garden, “Though I doubt they’re here yet.”

“Oh, Talia you made it-” Betty hurried over and stopped, her gaze locked on the flowers in Talia’s hair, and then her gaze drifted to the flowers in Ophelia’s hair, “You made it.” She finished, sounding very annoyed. 

“There was awful traffic, Betty,” Talia said sweetly, like she had no idea that Betty was annoyed with her, “I suppose it makes sense with so many men returning from Coruscant yesterday.”

Betty flushed, the unheard condemnation heard loud and clear. “Ophelia, I’m surprised at you. Did I forget to mention how washed out yellow makes you look at my last Salon?”

Ophelia smiled winsomely, her yellow fan coming out and snapping open in front of her mouth and nose, “Mother made this dress for me, Betty. Surely you don’t expect me to disrespect her?”

Ophelia’s mother was a fashion designer of some renown. Well, she designed the gowns that the ladies of the senate wore on a daily basis, so “some” renown was rather an understatement. 

“Your mother should know better than to dress you in yellow,” Betty sniffed.

“I’ll be sure to mention it.” Ophelia replied. “Come along, Talia. I see Elizabeth over by the tea, and I’m sure that Betty has other people she needs to greet.”

Talia allowed Ophelia to direct her over to the tea table, where Elizabeth most assuredly wasn’t. The third part of their little trio from Finishing School stopped coming to these events as soon as she turned 18. With her mother’s blessing, of course.

Talia and Ophelia hadn’t been so lucky, tragically.

“Have you spoken to Elizabeth recently?” Talia asked as soon as Betty was out of earshot.

“I have, she’s met a man,” Ophelia grinned wickedly, “A soldier, named Gree. Apparently he’s as sweet as sugar and dotes on her.”

“I’m glad for her,” Talia said loyally.

“I think it’s boring.” Ophelia whispered as she handed a teacup to Talia, and then took one for herself.

“Hm. Have you heard from your gentleman lately?” Talia asked, innocently.

Ophelia looked disgruntled, “He returned yesterday, but he said that he had been roped into something today, so I’m not going to see him until tomorrow at the earliest.” 

“You poor thing. How will you survive?” Talia teased.

Ophelia shot her a look, and then her shoulders slumped, “I haven’t seen him in three months, and I wasn’t even able to greet him yesterday because he has responsibilities. It’s not even fair.”

“As if your father would okay you going to meet a man, any man, on your own.” Talia points out as she snags one of the picnic tables for them to share, “You’re lucky your mother approves.”

“Mother loves him. She’s been designing my wedding dress since I was three, of course.” Ophelia said warmly, “Of course, the moment she finds out that I’m already married, all bets are off.”

Talia laughed. She opened her mouth to say something when there was a commotion from the entrance of the garden.

*******

Neyo decided immediately that he hated roses. He hated the look and the scent. And he really, really hated the woman who dressed herself to look like a rose. Who was simpering over Faie like he deserved anything more than being shoved out a window.

At least most everyone else was dressed in more pastel colors. He saw several pinks, quite a few blues and greens, and more than one pastel yellow. This woman was the only one wearing wine red.

She stood out. And not in a good way.

“Neyo, this is Miss Betty Cunningham. This is her party,” Faie said, his glare practically screaming at him to be nice.

“Nice to meet you.” Neyo replied in a flat voice, everything about his screaming I don’t want to be here.

He took it as a victory when the red woman faltered under his unimpressed stare, and she turned to focus her attention on Bacara and Bly…neither of whom were paying attention to her.

Bly was staring at his chrono, likely wondering how long he had to remain at the party to not be seen as rude when he left. Neyo was sure that General Secura told him he had to stay for at least an hour.

Bacara, though-

Huh. Bacara was staring at something across the garden.

Neyo followed his gaze, and landed on a young woman, dressed in vibrant yellow, with yellow flowers in her hair. A young woman who was well aware of Bacara’s stare, as her face was glowing red. Her companion, a young woman in pastel purple with purple flowers in her hair, looked like she was trying not to laugh.

Neyo glanced over at his brother, who was now playing with something around his neck. That something, Neyo knew, was a wedding band. Something Bacara had admitted to him late one night, after a particularly bad day on Coruscant.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Neyo hissed, “Go talk to your wife before she implodes.”

Bacara shot him a relieved look, and slipped away from the group of men, and across the garden. Laser focused on the yellow woman, who stood and greeted him with a tight hug.

Neyo was amused to note that the red woman flushed an angry shade of red when she saw that. He decided to take a note from his brother’s book in this case, and make a tactical retreat. 

Neyo found himself near the back of the garden, by a rather large, and gaudy looking, fountain. A fountain that was covered in red roses. What was with that woman?

“It’s hideous, isn’t it?” Neyo turned and flickered his gaze slightly down to regard the young woman standing several feet behind him, she smiled at him apologetically, “The Fountain, I mean.”

She stepped up next to him, her gaze remained locked on the fountain. She smelled softer, like the purple flowers in her hair. It was nice, compared to the overpowering scent of roses. “What is her obsession with roses?” Neyo asked.

She laughed, a bubbly noise that made Neyo want to make her laugh again. “The roses are new,” She said, once her laughter calmed, “Generally you can tell what kind of mood Betty is in based on the flowers she decorates her garden with.”

“And what do red roses mean?” Neyo asked warily.

“That she’s looking for a husband,”

Fuck.

She laughs again, and Neyo’s panic fades a little. “I don’t think you need to worry,” She reassures, “I think you intimidate her.”

“Thank fuck for that.” He paused, “Do I intimidate you?”

She released a thoughtful hum, and then looked up at him with a bright smile, “I’ve never been intimidated by a man in my life.”

That was…unfairly attractive, actually, Neyo decided after a moment of thought.

“Marshal Commander Neyo, of the 91st Battalion.” 

Her smile widened, “Talia Bell. It’s very nice to meet you, Commander.”

“Neyo.”

Delight flickered across her face, “Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Neyo.”

He decided, then and there, that he liked the way his name sounded on her tongue. Plans flickered through his mind, as his entire world shifted a little bit. “So, Talia,” He liked her name. It suited her, “What kind of flowers are these?” He brushed his fingers against one of the purple blossoms in her hair.

She considered him for a moment, and then she motioned for him to duck his head. Talia pulled a single blossom bunch from her hair, and lightly tucked it behind his ear, “They’re lilac blossoms,” She said, “And now we match.”

Well then.

A slow smile crossed his face, “If we match,” Neyo said slowly, his gaze locked on her face, “Then I suppose it’s okay for me to ask if you want to leave.”

She laughed, and leaned closer to him, the scent of lilacs swirled around them. “I know how to get to the back gate open,” Talia said brightly, “And there’s a nice little restaurant not far from here that has the best sandwiches on the station. If you’re interested?”

He was definitely interested. In more than just sandwiches. “It sounds like a good start,” He says instead, “Do you mind if I ditch the jacket at my barracks though?”

She shook her head, and then offered him her hand, her eyes sparkling in the midday sun. “Come on, Neyo. Let’s go have some real fun.”

Half made plans solidified into something solid. Something real.

Neyo smiled and took her hand, “Lead the way, Sarad.”

[hzdtrees]

Fire-touched

[hurthermore]

»»------► 𝙰 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 (18+) - 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎

Pairing: 𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗. 𝚂𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘.

Word Count: 𝟺.𝟹𝚔

Warnings: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝟷𝟾+ 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝, 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢, 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚎

𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝, 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚢!

𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚎 <𝟹

You vividly remember the accursed day that Alastor was to visit you, the day after he had so passionately kissed you; pressed himself fully against you as though he would die without feeling your touch. You were exhilarated as you had waited so patiently for his appearance to grace your presence, heavily anticipating what would transpire and bloom between the two of you after sharing such a promiscuous and intense act of pure infidelity. 

The muscles in your body tingled with a sensation similar to a swarm of butterflies fluttering within as you couldn’t excrete the memory of the kiss from your mind; and regardless of how morally wrong it may have been due to your affiliation in marriage, it played on loop within your psyche like a broken record. It was unlike anything you had the pleasure of experiencing before, nothing like the kisses you were forced to share with your husband. You craved to feel his ravenous lips against yours again, craved to feel his voracious body as it pressed against you once more. It was all you could find yourself thinking of as you sat so patiently, waiting for his arrival.

Yet as the clocks in your dead home began to depict the time of midday, those ditzy inducing thoughts began to embed a sense of anxiety deep into your core. Initially, you brushed it off as him simply being tardy; something you could easily forgive him for despite how rude you found it. Yet as you attempted to delude yourself into believing he was merely unpunctual, an hour had passed before you could acknowledge it. Anxiety only doused you; engulfing every fibre in your being as malicious thoughts of what ifs and maybes consumed the constraints of your mind.

Had something happened to him?

Awful and disturbing scenarios of what may have happened to him only plagued you, vivid imagery of him being in trouble or perhaps dead wouldn’t stop playing like a mentally conjured picture show in your mind. It was devastating, having to handle such disturbing visions of the man you had found yourself harbouring deep emotions for. But as you continued to spend the next few hours in a state of sheer trepidation, your hands had begun pulling on the roots of your hair erratically as your lip became bloodied from the harsh pressure your teeth placed on them.

Despite the distress that encumbered you, your heart still remained optimistic, giving you hope that you would soon reach the light at the end of the tunnel; that Alastor would turn up, and everything would be fine. Yet as the light in your house began to dim as the sun began to process of setting into the western skies, that small amount of hope shattered, breaking everything within you before tears naturally cascaded from your oculi. 

Instead of images of something happening to him, thoughts of self-hatred began to embed within your psyche, feeding you voices that echoed eerily in reality, speaking spats of insecurities and self doubt. 

Had he merely toyed with you?

Did he realise he did not reciprocate how deeply you felt for him?

Or had he remembered the fact that you were a defiled and taken woman?

You never knew something could destroy the chambers of your heart so heavily, like a hand etching its fingers around your beating organ, squeezing it with the intention of exploding it within the confines of your flesh. It was not only unimaginable, but surprising; you were one of the many unfortunate souls that had the displeasure of having to endure numerous types of abuse as if you were merely someones punching bag; yet this sensation killed something inside of you, causing little tiny cracks of insecurity and distrust to form on the figurative image of your heart, the organ that was supposed to represent the very thing that was currently causing you pain; love.

The distress of Alastor’s absence not only affected your psyche with grief and agony, but also affected your physical form in ways you weren’t expecting. The muscles within your body would not cease twitching, similar to the breakdown you had experienced before attempting to end your husband's life, forcing your wrists and neck to convulse; causing you to only cry harder as you just wanted everything to stop.

Everything was too much.

It took a while; a long while. But eventually, you managed to stabilise yourself before your husband, the man whom you were supposed to love, entered your shared home, and as he did, you allowed the contemplation of whether or not your husband had set the whole ordeal up to weave its way in your brain; if he had gotten Alastor to pretend to be your friend, pretend to harbour feelings for you, to kiss you before leaving you in the dust, all to simply psychologically damage you.

You wouldn’t put it past him.

But as he walked in with petulance, you could only laugh at yourself for even entertaining the notion that your moronically abusive husband could have ever attained the competence to plan something out so meticulously; he was too vacuous to conjure something up that would affect you to this extent. He was a manipulator at his core, a vile abuser who hid his criminal acts so carefully; he was smart in that regard, but you were aware that Vincent simply didn’t have the mental capacity to think of enacting this scenario, mainly due to his jealousy, but partly because he simply lacked the intelligence.

Even as Vincent sat next to you, as he placed his sloppy and wet lips on your bared shoulders; a sensation that felt disgusting, especially compared to Alastors divine kisses, it didn’t register in your mind that Vincent had begun touching you inappropriately. You could only focus on Alastor and the heartbreak that he had caused you as your husband's touches only exacerbated; It wasn’t until he had released his grip off of your body that you had realised he had forced himself inside of you. Yet you couldn’t find yourself caring or fretting over your husband's assault due to the mere consumption that devoured your heart as you allowed your line of sight to intake your naked and descreated form.

Despite your dissociation, you had fallen into your usual routine of serving Vincent; cooking his food that you barely got to receive for yourself, despite making the damned dish yourself, cleaning his dishes as god forbid he do them himself, all whilst giving him whatever he wished to take from your body. And for the sake of your own sanity, you allowed yourself to become distracted by those tasks in an attempt to rid not only your husband's abuse, but also Alastor from the depths of your mind.

But it was futile.

Through the week you had known the radio host, you had stupidly allowed yourself to be deluded with thoughts of him saving you, idiotically allowed yourself to indulge in a hot and messy kiss that inevitably made you an adultress; all whilst being unaware of the fact that  Alastor had the capacity of hurting you, until he did. You were foolish to allow yourself to believe he had harboured any emotions for you; moronic to believe that he actually cared for you. He had played you like a fiddle with mastery; breaking your walls down, causing you to fall for him, then making you believe he felt the same when he had kissed you so passionately; only for him to abandon you after it, like you meant nothing to him.

Why had you ever allowed yourself to believe Alastor could actually like you? Let alone love you.

Looking over to your husband as you laid in the dreadful captivity of your bed the night of Alastors absence, intaking all of Vincent’s conventionally attractive features that you yourself found absolutely disgusting and vile, you knew you would never attain the sweet release of Vincent’s grip. You had to accept the reality that you would most likely have to stay in the abusive grasp of your despicable husband until death finally granted you or him in the loving embrace of its cold dead arms.

As your thoughts consumed you, the days passed by slowly as the sun continuously rose and set, each passing day only making the pain in the chamber of your heart increase as Alastor still refused to make an appearance before you, destroying any hope of everything simply being a misunderstanding. And once it had reached the five day mark since you last saw him; since he had begged for you to kiss him, you began to truly hate Alastor; despite how your love yearned for him.

You felt angry, betrayed, and incapacitated.

The desire of peace was all you craved for, the simple release to experience contentment was all you wished for after all the pain you had suffered and endured, not only from Alastors abandonment, but from your husband's consistent abuse. That well deserved peace was to embrace you in the form of a week away from Vincent as he was to travel to New York the following day without you; simply to establish potential businesses he could build in the big apple before officially moving the two of you into the city. But even that was apparently too much for your husband to grace you with as you sat beside him, sat like a doll as soft jazz played in the background.

“I think it best you come with me; to New York.” 

You disagreed, obviously. Only giving him a slight glance before you sipped on the drink held within the grasp of your hands as you said nothing, acting as if he didn’t exist.

“Don’t ignore me, doll.” Refusing to allow the sigh that you heavily desired to release from your larynx, you set the drink down onto the low table before you. Moving your hands into your lap, you reluctantly shifted your body to face the man who demanded your attention. “Wouldn’t you like to see the place you’re moving to? We could make it into a vacation; I’ll even let you wear some of those promiscuous flapper dresses that are the craze nowadays. You’d look ravishing in one of those little numbers.”

Looking down, you listened to his insistent rambling, merely saying nothing in return, again. The thought of having to wear one of those revealing dresses before your husband just to feed into his sexual pleasure and capricious fantasies made you feel utterly nauseated. You didn’t want to wear anything that Vincent chose for you; despising how he always took pleasure in dressing you up as if you were a mere object.

A doll.

You couldn’t help how your eyebrows furrowed whilst your mind spoke words of repulsion toward your husband. Yet despite your thoughts of disgust, your mind began to imagine wearing something like that, something so licentious for Alastor instead. Your expression only growing more malicious at the mere mental pictures of that fantasy; standing before Alastor, wearing a sexualised dress as he craved to enrapture you. Shaking your head internally, you cursed yourself for thinking of such sensual desires; wishing not to think of him, despising yourself for even allowing that absentee man into the grace of your psyche. 

Gripping your fingers into the cloth of your dress skirt, your teeth clenched together as you failed in ridding Alastor from your mind, your fingernails twitching into your thighs through the cloth as you grimaced from all the thoughts that swarmed you.

“Fine, be a little bitch about it. You’re coming whether you like it or not; you don’t get a choice.” You wanted to laugh at his words, words that alluded to a falsity as though he had ever given you a choice in anything prior. Looking at your drink on the table, you heavily contemplated on penetrating the glassed object against your husband's thick and pathetic skull, perhaps shoving a shard that was to inevitably break from the collision into his face to disfigure him before he died. 

As much as you wished for Vincent’s life to cease to exist, you were heavily aware of the great factor that you simply did not have the competence to kill him; even now, after one of the primary reasons for not ending his life being due to Alastor’s perception of you, you still found yourself caring about how the said radio host would perceive you for murdering another living being, despite how you were slowly etching hate into your heart toward him.

With all your thoughts consuming your mind, you hadn’t registered the words you had spoken into the reality of the world until you had heard your own voice echo into the room. “I don’t want to go with you.” Tensing up as your own voice reverberated in your ears, your eyes flickered toward your husband.

His gaze was malevolent.

A truly disturbing and exasperated expression doused his face. You hadn’t intended on antagonising him; hadn’t meant to anger him to this extent with words you hadn’t registered in your head. “Care to repeat yourself, doll?” He sat eerily still, the soft glow that emitted from the lamps caressed his face, making his eyes appear more dulled out and darker than usual. 

What could you do in this scenario? In the reality of Vincent; the man who could very easily batter you with a blink of an eye, your thoughts searched for everything you possibly could to get yourself out of this situation, to alleviate the punishment that was to come. It was then that you began the fabrication of a story, something that was a rather pungent thing to deceive a person with, but you were desperate, and your husband deserved none of your kindness, so without hesitation, you said two words that would inevitably cause you trouble in the future.

“I’m pregnant.”

You were aware of how Vincent valued and desired the award of children, how he craved to have his own offspring; so feeding him the illusion of an unborn child that did not exist was the only thing you could conjure in the depths of your mind as you attempted to avoid oncoming conflict. “I’ve known for a few weeks now.” You continued to lie, evading yourself from having to look at Vincent’s expression as you deceived him. “I didn’t wish to tell you until the three month mark, incase of miscarriage.” It was unfathomable to even yourself how you had managed to evoke something so mendacious.

Refusing to meet your husband's gaze, you wondered if he was able to discern your lie; and what actions would be provoked from such clarity. And as you heard his steps closing in on you, you began to shake, preparing yourself for the inevitable.

Only, you grimaced as his arms wrapped around you instead of harming you. Clearly, he had bought your lie without doubt.  Cringing ever so slightly as he sniffed your hair, you wished to pull away, wished to get away from him. “Oh, doll, it’s about time.” He smirked into your hair; a smirk you could unfortunately feel as you craved to roll your eyes and hurl up bile from the pits of your stomach from his incessant touch.

Trying to get him off you, you spoke. “That’s why I don’t want to go- why I can’t go, it could be detrimental to our child.” 

Perhaps you would have to excrete the unsettling bile that swam in the depths of your gut; the words you had to fabricate alone was making you incredibly nauseated, let alone your husband’s vile grubby hands.

As he leaned back, his fingers wrapped around your jaw, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Fine.” He said rather softly; something that was incredibly rare for him. As he leaned into you, he forced a kiss onto your lips as you attempted to withdraw from him; you refused to grace him with a kiss of your own. His hands gripped the back of your scalp as he shoved your face further into his, smushing you to him uncomfortably as the need to vomit was becoming a bit too real for you. 

It wasn’t Alastor who was kissing you; it wasn’t the man who you truly craved for. Despite how much you held distaste for him as he abandoned you, you could only compare Vincent to Alastor, could only wish that it was Alastor who was holding you, wish it was him who met his lips against yours.

You couldn’t help but feel as though you were cheating on Alastor as your husband forced himself onto you.

The need to cry only overwhelmed you as your pained thoughts of Alastor mingled with the ones of fear and disgust toward your husband.

Had Alastor thought about you since his absence?

Had he craved to see you, to touch you, kiss you just as you craved him?

As the tears finally left your eyes, wetting your cheeks and jawline, your husband dragged you to your shared bedroom, locking you behind the closed door that forced you to endure everything within the confines of a room so sickly. “Take your clothes off.” Vincent whispered into the skin of your face before pulling away harshly, waiting for you to enact his demand. And you did. Like a trained dog, you submitted to his request; your body filling up with self-hatred as you did. 

You took it like a trained animal too as your husband defiled your body yet again; a routine you believed you’d never escape from. 

It was a nightmare, one that encumbered your reality, your entire life and existence. It pained you, pained you that this was what you were reduced to; a bought product for a man who would force himself on you for the rest of your life.

Sleep was a thing that wouldn’t grace you that night, yet contrastingly, you felt elevated despite all the hardships you had to endure; you would be free from Vincent for an entire week.

As the darkness of the night made room for the lightness of the day, you only allowed a small amount of sleep to consume you before Vincent had jolted you awake; stating that he was leaving soon.

But not soon enough, in your opinion. 

Things moved oddly fast as you went about your morning, making Vincent breakfast before his departure, a smile etched onto your face as you anticipated the moment he finally left.

“I think it’ll be a boy.” Your husband's voice echoed throughout the room.

You had forgotten about the lie you had fabricated to avoid his assault.

Fiddling your fingers together, you only nodded with a hum as you avoided the subject all together, yet Vincent wouldn’t grace you with contentment as he continued his speech, listing potential names for an heir that was to never come, and as he continued, the time to his departure only approached.

Before you could even acknowledge it, Vincent had kissed you farewell before getting in his car,  driving off into the horizon of the road.

Walking back into the emptiness of your home, you squealed ever so slightly as you laid against the sofa in your parlour.

The thickness in the air that carried alongside Vincent seemed to disappear, vanishing as only breathable and rich oxygen filled your lungs, giving them the much needed pure air that was free of tension they craved for.

You wondered if Vincent would die in a car crash on the way; it was a long journey after all.

A smile etched onto your face as you imagined him dying, not noticing you had fallen into a slumber of a short nap until a loud rumbling of thunder shook the walls of your home, startling you in the wakefulness of consciousness. Moving towards the nearest window, you watched as rain poured from the unreachable sky above, dark and gloomy as it pattered down harshly. 

It was contrasting to the beaming sun that shone earlier from when you were awake, but the serenity of finally being graced with the freedom of the presence of your husband made you fall into a deep appreciation for the damp weather. And as the rain began to heavily splatter against the windows and wooden drywalls of your home, you looked at the clocks in your home, only to be surprised at how late it had become. Allowing yourself to relax again, intending to grant your body a sleep that didn’t require you to be on edge for once, you sank yourself into a chair, gazing out of the window that overlooked the back of the property as you watched the heavy rain drizzle the world in its essence.

Yet the soft glow of the electrical lights in your home shut off as a flash of light struck from outside, a loud rumble of thunder slowly echoing after the flare of lightning. Grabbing the armrests, you pulled yourself up as your home became doused in creeping shadows and haunting darkness that hid the contents within, the only light being the natural glow from the moon that hid behind the clouds of thunder and rain.

As you moved to retrieve some candles in your dresser to give your home some light, dread permeated within your being as a loud rhythm of knocks banged against your front door. Turning around ever so slightly, your vision focused on the door; seeming to shrink away from you as panic overtook you, vertigo ever so present before the door was banged again ever so slightly more harsher than the original set.

You vacillated on opening the door, wondering who would be at your home at such an hour into the night, and in this dreadful weather. Slowly grasping for the door knob, your breath hitched as you unlocked the door, only leaving the chained lock secured; you weren’t about to let someone barge into your home.

As the gap in the door began to reveal the contents of the outside world, the blood in your face dropped; the heart in your chest didn’t know whether to burst from relief or anger as you took in the appearance of the man who had disappeared for numerous days.

Alastor Hartfelt.

He looked awful, regardless of how the pouring rain had affected him; forcing his usual fluffed hair to stick against his warmed beige skin, how it fogged up his glasses and drenched the exact same clothes he had worn when you had last seen him, the skin under his eyes were darker, as if he had hardly slept, and his appearance indicated he hadn’t bathed himself for a few days, possibly since you last saw him.

Your heart clenched in agony as you saw the state he was in as he panted as though he had ran to your home from god knows where. Yet the echoing voices in your mind that reminded you that he had very much abandoned you consumed you, conflicting your emotions as you stared up at him through the gap in your door.

He spoke your name with desperation as his hand pushed against the door, attempting to open it further, yet the chained lock prevented him from forcing the door to widen. “I’m so sorry-” He almost whined, the look in his eyes seemed anguished as he looked at you, but as those words came out of his mouth, you couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

Did he realise how much distress he had put on you for the former days he had abandoned you? 

How many breakdowns you had to endure?

Slamming the door quickly, you shut it in his face, only to hear him bang against it yet again, more frantically this time as his voice seeped through the cracks of the hinges of the door. “Darling, just let me explain-”

“Go away, Alastor!” You screamed, interrupting him. Betrayal was all you could devour in the moment; the heightening emotions of his absence and how it had affected you was all you could comprehend. “You’re despicable, and I truly never wish to see you again.” A lie; you knew it to be, but you wished to hurt him as he had you; you didn’t know why. Despite everything he was still the only person who had shown you kindness, even if he had abandoned you.

How could you treat Alastor this way and not your husband?

Probably because Alastor had never hurt you in ways your husband had.

He just broke your heart instead.

Running up the stairs as you wished to leave the dreaded area of your door; the same one where the man you harboured feelings for stood behind, you flinched as he began banging the door with such force you were certain he was kicking it; attempting to break it down.

Screaming at him to stop it, he ignored you, and before you could begin to walk down the stairs to attempt to halt him from breaking your door down, the front entryway was quite literally torn from the hinges that held it; parts of the wood from the door shattered into splinters; scattering across the floorboards as the door itself hanged from the wall, still connected to the drywall via the chained lock.

As you looked at Alastor as he took a step into your home, the dark shadows of the night caressed his entire body, hiding his facial expression from you as you could see small glints of his eyes and smile reflecting towards you; a truly horrifying sight, one that had your knees trembling ever so slightly. Taking a step back, you watched as he made another step towards you, his shoes harshly slow walking echoed throughout the home, and as a struck of lightning flashed behind him, the goosebumps on your skin erected, forcing a bone chilling sensation to douse you.

One that had you unable to dictate if it was from fear or lust.

Not once did you take your eyesight off of him as he stood there, your breath hastening as he simply stared at you.

“I told you never to walk away from me like that again, darling.”

← 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 ✦ 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 →

✦ 𝙰𝙾𝟹 ✦

Quick PSA:

The sadomaso won the poll, YALL HORNY so I will be writing that next, hopefully I can get it out tomorrow!

ALSO, I wasn't expecting my last assignment to be so difficult, so I will only be able to realistically work on Misconduct and any other fics during the weekends, fortunately, I will probably have my assignment done in like 2 weeks max as I can get shit done when it needs to be done, so don't fret if I'm not as active! I'm still here and I'll return to my normal upload speed once i've finish with this year at uni.

If you've stayed long enough to read all my bs, let me know how you felt about this chapter! And also... Congrats! You get a little treat... >.<

The next Chapter is going to be in Alastor's POV.

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

@cherry-cola-100 @hana-en @undrgroundtheme @roxxie-wolf @mutifandomkid @gentle-aesthetic-bby @itsmskeisha @k1y0yo @d34dl0ve @reikamasama @taygirl24 @alastorssimp @ieatcocoa @tremendoushearttaco @spottypug @bishiglomper @marcysbear @zazamagicaldonut @little-slyvixen @wendigonamecaller @schiz0preniczz @trippoverrt @reader3 @kittyandbluey @xinhar @sol3chu @yuckypuppie @forest-knights @ivebeenthearchersstuff @feellaaya @babesway22 @straows @blobin456drawz @saccharine-nectarine @blakeaha @nishayuro @impulsivethoughtsat2am @zarabethe @petrichorvzlia-blog @burninupa-star @alastorsaries @saints-wrapped-in-plastic

[bby-deerling]

behind the sea (zoro x reader nsfw)

saccharine sweet loving sex with zoro :)

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 2.4k masterlist

cw: afab!fem!reader piv, oral (reader receiving), virgin!zoro, established relationship, soft soft soft zoro, part of my lil zoro x reader universe (but can be read standalone), strawhat!artist!reader (this is only relevant for like one line)

tagging: @zoros-ball-sweat, @sleepymarimo

The moon hangs high in the sky, softly guiding the ripple of the tides and the drifting of the stars.  The sea is calm tonight; the air is still, and the gentle rocking of the ship is comforting and soothing.  Serenity was far from an unfamiliar feeling to Zoro—he felt it when he meditated, or when completely focused and in his element, but nothing compared to the peace he felt on quiet nights like these as he holds you close as he keeps watch in the Observation Tower, with you fast asleep between his legs, back leaning against his chest.

Natural—the connection between you two was so raw, natural, and understanding.  Falling in love with you was effortless; little gestures of kindness had slowly developed into fondness, and then something deeper still.  Attentive and accommodating to each other’s needs, the slow, easy pace of your connection was refreshing and welcome to both of you, who were craving something simple but profound, untroubled but immeasurable, and above all, tranquil and easy, with love expressed quietly in a spattering of unspoken actions.

Blooms of growth in your relationship occurred when silent admiration failed to convey the level of sentiment you carried for each other.  Brushing his thumb across your cheek one night in the Crow’s Nest of the Merry, he had decided the look in his eyes wouldn’t suffice to show you how much he cared, and he gently pressed his lips to yours.  Passion and hunger had overcome you on another night, lips and tongues locked in a messy kiss in an alley behind a bar, and you had dropped to your knees, staring up at him with starry, love-struck eyes.  Construction of the Sunny brought lazy midday make-out sessions on the couch in your studio that eventually led to him sliding down your torso to taste you; his tongue was initially sloppy and erratic, but you guided him gently with soft directions and fingers threaded through his hair until the cook had banged on the door to inform you lunch was ready.  The intimacy you share is sacred and special, and something he was endlessly grateful for, but tonight, as he watches the way the moonlight scatters across your legs, takes in the soft, gentle rhythm of your body shifting as you breathe, and traces the curve of your sleepy smile with his thumb, he craves more.

He doesn’t check the time, but the placement of the moon tells him it was near three in the morning—heart pounding, Zoro hopes that what he has to give you is worth sacrificing your last hour of sleep for before your watch begins; as he kisses the top of your head, the sweet hum that comes from your lips gives him all the reassurance he needs that he could wake you up for any reason at all and you would simply be pleased to soak in his presence.

“G’morning, Zoro.” you mumble with a smile, nuzzling into his touch.  His arms squeeze you tightly, and his heart melts at the way your grin widens; he used to worry about crushing you with his embraces, but you only seemed to want more of him, always seeking the comfort of having him pressed as close to you as possible.

“Morning.” he whispers softly in your ear, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear; a pulse of electricity races down your side and you shudder against him.  Emerging further out of the groggy haze of sleep with each kiss he presses along your jawline, you become increasingly aware of his arousal, and sleepily attempt to grind against him; noticing your struggle, he uses the arm around your waist to pull your hips on top of his as he continues to press wet, heated kisses on every piece of skin he could reach.

“I want you.” he whispers, words light and barely audible as they drift upward into the air.  He twitches with want as he feels the heat radiating from your burning cheeks, confidence building as he sees how worked up you are for him with such little effort.

“I want you too, Zoro.” you reply, voice breathy and dripping with excitement; vulnerable and open for him, any shyness or reservations had long been replaced with neediness and yearning.  The sensual dance to reach this point had been slow and gradual, but something in the serene stillness of the night and the heat of his touches made you feel like there could never be a sweeter, more perfect time to give yourselves to each other.

“Wanna taste you first.” he mumbles, pressing sweet kisses along the column of your neck and rolling his hips into yours before pulling himself away from your warmth and settling between your thighs.  A wave of nerves washes over him as he pushes your nightgown up, but the soft, encouraging, understanding glint in your eyes lights a fire in his chest.

Taking his time, he gently kisses along your thighs; the calm peace of the early morning left him in no rush, and Zoro was determined to drag out and drink up every serene, tranquil bit of intimacy you shared.  When his tongue finally licks a stripe across your needy bundle of nerves, you let out a sigh and lace your fingers between his mossy strands of hair.  The reassurance of your touch emboldens him to lean in closer and run his tongue along your clit in the same languid, flat strokes that he remembered you responding so well to.  The soft moan that escapes your lips has him grateful for his innate ability to commit actions to his muscle memory, and he starts to relax, relying on instinct and your reactions to carry him to your high.  The taste and scent of you has his head feeling dizzy, and he wants nothing more than to messily lap up every drop of your essence, but he stops himself, focused on drawing more sweet, breathy sounds out of you as you grind your hips into his face.

“Mmmfh… Feels s’good.” you sigh, grip on his hair tightening ever so slightly as you pull him even closer.  For a moment he considers that drowning in your wake like this was what heaven felt like—a pleasure that a demon like him hardly deserved; however, a pirate takes what they want, and he greedily consumes all you give him and then some.

“Y-you’re gettin’ good at this, Zoro.” you whisper; you’re barely able to get the words out, mangled and jumbled on your tongue as the sweet feeling of his tongue rolling across your bud overwhelms your mind.  The movement of your hips starts to become erratic, and your pulse jumps to your cheeks as you get close.  Zoro’s hands slowly drift to the underside of your thighs to grasp them tightly, his tongue unrelenting in the process. 

The grip of his warm, wide, strong hands on your plush skin is enough to make you let go and see white; it’s messy and intense and drawn out, and leaves tingles running through your bloodstream as you can feel your heartbeat pulse through your whole body at once.  The sight of you falling apart all over his mouth leaves him staring up at you reverently, taking in every twitch, gasp, and whimper as ecstasy overwhelms your body.  Pride surges through his veins at the knowledge that he did this to you—he was able to make you feel this good.  As you come down from your high, he rubs soothing circles into your inner thigh with his thumb; when your senses return, the dreamy look you give him makes him simultaneously melt and twitch with need.

Gently nudging you to lay down, he hovers on top of you, stroking the side of your cheek with a soft smile before capturing your lips with his.  The kiss starts out gentle, but slowly turns messy and needy; he slips his tongue into your mouth and the taste of yourself on his tongue makes you let out a sigh full of want against his mouth.  “Need more of you.” he mumbles into your lips as the kiss deepens, his hands roaming across your body to touch and knead and feel any part of you he can reach.

“Please…” you whisper faintly, voice full of yearning.  He breaks the kiss, and gives you a look, silently asking you if you’re certain.  One of your legs hooks around him in response, rolling his hips into yours.  Reaching up to stroke the side of his cheek with your thumb, you search for any doubt or hesitation in his eyes; all you find is admiration, need, and lust as he stares down at you with darkened eyes and slides off his boxers.

The night is still, and reality shatters; the only visceral and real concept that remains is the intangible thread connecting the two of you as he lines himself up with your entrance, holding your gaze with his own.  Leaning down to kiss you, he means to keep his mouth on yours as his cock slides inside you, but the way your walls grip him makes his head tilt back and he lets out a shaky gasp, lips still connected by a string of saliva.

Overwhelmed by the sensation of being inside you, he gives you little time to adjust, but his thrusts are so tortuously slow and deep that they ease you into a gentle, languid rhythm.  Drunk on feeling how warm and wet you are, and wanting to feel as much of you as he can at once, his tongue swirls alongside yours, settling into a rhythm that matched the thrusts of his cock inside you.  Craving the feeling of his skin pressed closer to yours, you loop your legs around him, locking your grip at the ankles to pull him even deeper inside of you, and his pace picks up speed, beginning to lose himself in a haze of lust.

“I wanna get you off again.  Wanna know how it feels when you come around me.” he says, voice gravelly as his hand slides down your side to rub circles into your clit.  His hands are rough and motions unpracticed, but the friction makes your back arch regardless.  Warmth spreads through your body as his movements start to tighten the coil in your abdomen, until a sloppy circle or slip of his hand makes the tension ebb, unintentionally keeping you on edge.  He’s making you feel good, but not enough to get you to your high, and he knows it, judging by the way he grits his teeth in frustration.

Stubborn and proud, he can’t bring himself to verbally ask for help no matter how much he loves and trusts you—instead, he shoots you a look that’s somewhere between pleading and exasperated.

Show me how you like it.

A soft smile spreads across your face as you accept his silent confession of frustration and inexperience with compassion and dignity.  His breathing hitches as your hand trails down your torso and place it on top of his, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze.  Pressing your fingers on top of his, you gently roll his fingertips in rhythmic circles around your clit; soaking your guidance in and absorbing it like a sponge, he takes note of the dips and increases in pressure that you crave, determined to get your walls to flutter around him. 

The assistance you give him starts out clear and lucid, but you quickly are lost in a haze of pleasure, and he’s left to his own devices as you turn into a whimpering mess.  His thrusts inside of you are slow and lazy as he focuses on the way his fingers drag across your bud; still sensitive and aching from your first climax, and worked up from his inadvertent teasing, your second high creeps up on you quickly, and your hips snap against his to send yourself falling over the edge.

Satisfied could not even begin to describe the way he feels as you grip him, body shivering and walls convulsing around his cock.  Breathing heavy as strangled moans fall off your lips, he smashes his mouth onto yours and drinks up every vibration from each sound that escapes your throat.  Pliant and limp beneath him, he grabs at your hips and gently massages your skin, and presses hot, messy kisses along your neck.

“That wasn’t too hard.  I’ll get at least two more out of ya’ next time.” he whispers into your ear, and you can feel his cocky grin against your neck, making you flush and clench around him.

“You should give me three.  One for each sword.” you reply with a soft giggle that melts away as his thrusts deepen and pick up speed, making your head dizzy and thoughts blurry.  Instinctually, you tighten the grip of your legs around him, wanting to be smothered in and completely surrounded by his warmth and his love.

“Don’t forget about the fourth one.” he mumbles, voice dripping with pride.  He’s close—he had nearly spilled into you when he felt your walls spasm around him earlier, but he’s so drunk on the feeling of being inside you that he does everything in his power to not let this end.  However, the way he’s reduced you to a puddle of sighs and moans and gasps, eagerly clawing at him to pull him closer is too intoxicating, and his hips start to stutter.  Hot, thick ropes coat your insides with no warning except the way he grabs your jaw and messily plants his lips onto yours as he cums, the taste of you still on his mouth.

“I love you.”

“I love you so much.”

Neither of you are sure who says it first as he collapses on top of you and buries his head into your neck, but you’re both mumbling it repeatedly, like a ritual, sealing an otherworldly pact to swear yourselves to each other.  Waves continue to crash against the ship; the sea is still calm and gentle, and like the connection between you, is so deep and profound that there are no words or phrases to adequately express the strength of your sentiments.  Despite this, you both can’t help but to try, murmuring one last love you before he gently brushes wayward hair from your face and presses his lips to yours as he slowly slides out of you.

[primofate]

Interrupted make-out session [Genshin Impact]

Notes: This was also a request and I liked it but for some reason I can’t find the ask anymore, I might have accidentally deleted it. Has been sitting in my drafts for a while cause idk how else to make it better. It’s still a little cringy to me, tbh.

Warnings: VERY STEAMY but generally still SFW bordering on not, you’ve been warned though, not proofread, some possessiveness, yes there are sexual innuendos, mentions of alcohol and drinking, did i say not proofread?, if there are pronoun slips please let me know.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Ayato, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Aether

The two of you never really meant for it to turn into a make out session. With Aether, there’s a lot of patience and no pushing to do things. It just happened spontaneously while cuddling in bed.

The first kiss was innocent. Just a quick peck on the lips. But something in him seemed to spur him on and suddenly he’s leaning in for another one...and another one...and another... He’s still slow about it, giving you the chance to say no but also hoping that you don’t pull away. When you don’t, he peers into your eyes and sees that they’re clouded over, just as his is and he puts his all into the next kiss. 

His hand cradles your neck, his kiss is nearing hungry, wanting more of your soft lips on his. It’s an addiction now and you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the already passionate exchange. You open your mouth to let his tongue slide in, the kisses are getting sloppy, wetter. Your legs are tangled together and the heat between your lips blooms in your stomach and has you silently begging for more. The raw emotion makes you weak.

“Hey! Why is the door locked?! Did you two forget about Paimon?! Let me in!”

The two of you pull away abruptly. Panting and flushed, Aether more so than you. There’s a subtle disappointment in his eyes, but he’s a gentleman so he smiles and gathers himself, smooths down your hair and his, kisses your nose and utters a quick “I love you,” before pushing off the bed and letting the clueless Paimon in.

Albedo

Did he plan it? You’ll never know. He took you to Inazuma with him when he was commissioned to paint The Five Kasen. Of course, he took Klee with him too.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been alone,” Albedo sets down the tea on the kotatsu and sits next to you on the tatami floor. Klee is out with the traveller and Yoimiya, and though he feels a little bad for not being able to take Klee around, he was really rather busy with the preparation of the paintings.

What you didn’t get was why he wouldn’t let YOU go with Klee instead. It’d been midday when he emerged from his separate work room and sought you out. And now the two of you sat side by side each other, you feel him snake an arm around your waist. “You’re done with the painting?” You question him as he presses a kiss on the side of your head. 

“No,” he simply replies. The next time he dips his head, it lands on your lips and you instantly recognize the need in it. He rarely initiated kisses like this, the type that fanned a fire in your belly. It’s not a hungry kiss, but its long and his lips constantly move against yours, just as your head tilts to the side to give him more access. 

Your hand slides away from the teacup and rests on his shoulder, his arms are coming up to your back and pressing you further into him. When he breaks away he only does so to dip back into your neck, trailing kisses up to your ear. “‘Bedo--” You shudder a little at the light and quick pecks...until your ears pick up on familiar little, running footsteps and the door making a small rattle before the two of you break away and it slides open to reveal a very happy Klee, bursting with joy about her adventures.

You pretend to be drinking tea, though Albedo’s hand is still around your waist, he clears his throat before greeting his sister. “Welcome back, Klee,” 

Ayato

Intentional but has an excuse for it and kind of blames you for it. 

It’s rare that he gets to go to a festival with you, but he decided that he could take a break today and walk around. Inazuman festivals are always looked forward to, with lots of stalls, festivities and the closing fireworks, it’s an enjoyable time for everyone.

For Ayato, however, he can’t help but keep staring at your kimono-clad form. You rarely wore them, only on special occasions. Simply said, you looked even more charming than usual. 

So then was it his fault that he pulled you into a small alleyway in between two Inazuman houses and started kissing you? No. Not at all. 

“A-Ayato--There are people--” He’s gentle when he maneuvered you against the wall, but his kiss was not. He nips at your lips in a teasing manner, and recaptures your lips over and over again with only a second to breathe between each one, his hands sliding up your hip to keep you in place. 

“If you’re not too noisy they won’t notice, darling,” Ayato hides a smirk as he whispers to you, going back in for a now open mouthed and hot kiss. He just can’t get enough of you. Every breath he took was like breathing in lust and fire, seducing him to keep his mouth sucking yours. 

Then, he feels something bump against his foot, he pulls away abruptly, one of his arms still leaning onto the wall next to your head and he looks down to see a colourful ball there. The sounds of kids shouting about kicking the ball too far and running after it makes him pull all the way back, just in time for the kids to stop at the entrance of the alleyway and look at the two of you quizzically, then down to their ball. 

Ayato merely kicks it back towards them, and they don’t ask any questions, just caring about the fact that they can continue their game. He does pull you over and out of the small space though, despite you still being flushed and easily says. “We’ll continue later, care to come over?”

Dainsleif

Not a particularly jealous person but there are times where he can’t really stand other people giving you too much attention. 

Wolvendom was apparently a dangerous place. Not for Dainsleif. Dainsleif might have been more dangerous than Wolvendom itself. So despite the dangers of the forest you find yourself at ease when he’s around. 

The plan was to just pick wolfhooks, but things escalated pretty easily when you found your back against a tree and Dainsleif hovering above you. He didn’t have his arms out, nor was he pushing you towards the tree, but his gaze stayed you there. “...There was a man at the tavern who was a little touchy with you,” he started and you realized he had somehow been watching that exchange. 

“He was drunk, Dain. He was kicked out a little later,” You explain as he cups your chin and levels his gaze towards you. 

“...I don’t like it,” he simply says and you nod saying that you knew. No one would. However, instead of him complaining he translates his frustrations into a rather forceful kiss. Him pressing against you and trapping you at the tree, you didn’t resist, you had no intention to and all you could do was melt against him. 

It would seem as if he was taking out his anger on you, but his kisses gradually ease up, and all it starts to translate to is love and of him never wanting to let you go. His hands tether at your waist and he continues to drown you with his kiss, tongue pushing against your lips, asking for access to your mouth. It’s soft yet dominating at the same time, like an artist’s brush that confidently strokes at the canvas, he continues to stroke his lips on yours.

The first signs of rainfall drip on the tree the two of you are under, it escapes past the leaves until he starts to feel it drip on his scalp. He pulls away as the rain starts to hammer harder down on the two of you. He doesn’t mind kissing you in the rain, but it was the thunder that worried him. He instinctively pulls his coat away and over your form, then retreating under a nearby shelter that he knew of.

His face still has desire painted on it, but he looks down at you, slightly drenched and looking cold and smiles a little with apology. “Sorry,” he says curtly and you only grin back at him. 

Diluc

He likes the thought of being intimate with you. Kissing is just the most basic form of love that he discovered he enjoys. He enjoys it so much it’s hard for him to tell himself that one kiss will be enough.

It starts with your visit to his study. He’s there, poring over papers and the moment you walk in it’s as if his exhaustion billows away. He waits for you to approach him at his chair behind the desk and greets you by taking your hand and kissing the back of it. “Done with work?” He asks you and you nod your head with a small “Mmhmm,” 

He stands then and greets you more intimately with another kiss. Gloved hand placed on your collarbone and clutching at your shoulder as he pulls you in. Your lips fuses into his perfectly, like you were made for each other and he thinks the same. It’s the exact reason why he can never just kiss you once, specially in the privacy of a room. 

He kisses you again, but this time with more fervor, like he hadn’t kissed you in forever, like it was his first time seeing you in ages. His weight starts to push on you, and there’s nowhere to go but on his desk. Without ever taking his lips away he hoists you up over his desk, letting you sit comfortably while you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He’s standing in between your legs and his hands are pressed tightly on your waist. He pulls away to see the expression on your face, clearly wanting more. 

He doesn’t ever complain about giving you more and the kisses heat up to the point that your tongues are dancing together, panting against the passion, your hands are tangled in his long, red hair, and you instinctively tug at the hair band keeping it together. Your body almost trembles against his at the intensity of his lips conquering yours--

“Master Diluc? The accountant is here to see you,” The knock on the door pulls the two of you apart, but he doesn’t move from his forehead to forehead position with you. It feels hotter in the room, and he’s sure that it’s not just him who feels it. He stalls for a while to think about what to say, wanting to just turn the accountant away and tell him to come back another time, but you laugh under your breath, feeling the conflict in him. 

“Master Diluc,” you breathe out, clearly teasing him. “Don’t keep your guest waiting, I’ll come back later,” It’s you who pushes him away and jumps off the desk, turning to open the door and reveal Adelinde behind it. “He’ll be there in a second. Thank you Adelinde!” 

Gorou

Shy. So more often than not you’re the one initiating. You’re surprised that he’s actually a good kisser, or did he just get gradually better at it? Maybe he read some books about it...

Gorou already knows what’s on your mind when you ask him “Can I see the armory?” The first time you asked that, he merely raised his eyebrows and said sure. That had turned out to be a full-blown kissing session that left him flustered the whole day. 

It had actually been a while since you visited, and so when you ask “Is there anything new in the armory?” with a small grin on your face. Gorou can’t control nor hide the swish of his tail. He doesn’t admit out loud that he’s missed you far more than he can comprehend. 

You’re rather shocked as well that when the door to the armory closes he’s the one who captures your lips in a kiss. He pulls away to say “I--I haven’t seen you in so long. I just--” but you silence him with another, pulling at his clothes to get him leaning on top of you, mouths meshed together.

Your hands wander up to his ears, you always do that, rubbing at it while kissing makes him let out a low growl into your mouth and give a slight jump, but he doesn’t hate it. In fact it encourages him to do more. To open his mouth and receive yours. The kissing sounds are starting to sound lewd and his hands are starting to crawl up your sides.

“General?” Gorou jerks away from you, there’s a sound of a weapon clinking, as if it was getting hung up on the wall. There are footsteps coming around to the two of you and you flatten your clothing out hastily. One of his soldiers was in the armory and emerges from a row of weapons. “Ah general! I thought I heard you!” and proceeds to ask about which weapon would suit him more, because he was having a hard time picking. 

Gorou glances at you, face still flushed but there’s nothing but amusement in your eyes. He sighs inwardly and makes a future mental note to check if there’s anyone in the premises first before deciding to kiss you. 

Itto

He doesn’t constantly think about making out with you but when it starts to happen he can’t get his mind out of the gutter anymore. Doesn’t have a normal amount of shame as well. So getting caught making out is like nothing to him.

His favourite place to go beetle hunting is Chinjuu forest. Apparently that’s where all the big and strong ones are. He’s looking at every nook and cranny. In the river, atop trees, under boulders, on the stone stairs, inside logs. You name it. 

When he finally finds one, it’s like he hit the jackpot. “Heyyy!! Y/N, check this out!” he waves over and runs towards you to show you his new found treasure...only for him to trip on a big rock and start falling backwards, the beetle is startled and flies away from his hand. 

Itto is somewhat of an impulsive klutz, and so when he realizes that he’s falling he clumsily grabs on to the nearest thing, as if it would help him. Unfortunately, that was you and you end up on the ground with him. 

“Ow...Gee...Stupid rock,” he pushes himself up by his elbows and glares at the rock by his foot, then realizes that you’re completely pressed up against him and resting right below his chin. “Y/N! You okay?!”  

He wraps one arm around your waist, with how burly Itto was, having you resting on top of him was nothing. He realizes how close the two of you are and a bulb instantly lights in his head. “...Wanna kiss?” He grins shamelessly and you smack his shoulder hard. “Ow!” 

“Come on! Just one!” he urges and and somehow flips you over to the ground. Now he’s the one hoisting himself up above you. You consent and he giddily kisses you on the lips. Despite his size Itto is always gentle at first, and he never goes past your boundaries. Always asking if he could kiss you. He pulls away with a satisfied smile, but just looking at you under him like that...it stirs a bit of something in his gut. 

“...Another one?” He asks. Eyes tacked on to your suddenly delicious looking lips. He leans in again and this time the kiss he gives has a slight nip to it, his teeth gently nibbling on your lower lip, like he’s trying to get an actual taste of you. He pulls away again, face starting to become pink. “...A-Another--” This time it’s you who pulls him down by his coat, not letting him finish his request and it turns into a full blow make-out session. 

It’s a clumsy medley of kisses at first, just trying to taste more of each other and lips grappling for control. There’s a sudden, fiery urgency between your kisses, like you’re losing time, and your hands are starting to slide down his exposed midriff.

“Boss! Bossss!!” You push him away when you hear his gang members calling after him, but he didn’t seem to care and chases after your lips again. “Itto!” you hiss and punch his shoulder. “What?” he looks at you innocently. “Get off! Your friends are coming!” 

“So what?” he blinks, actually looking like he doesn’t care. He just doesn’t find anything wrong about giving you affection. “Get off or I’ll never kiss you again!” You threaten and he pouts but relents. By the time his gang members arrive. The two of you are stood up, with you dusting your clothes off and Itto looking like a defeated bear. 

Kaeya

You bet he initiates and he does so whenever he feels like it. However, other times, he likes to lure you into his trap by using his charms, so it looks as if you’re the one who started it but in fact he’s been sending you signals the whole time.

“Ah, so here you are,” Kaeya chuckles, kicking the door to the rooftop close as he saunters over to you. Up at the rooftop of the Favonius Headquarters, it was quiet and no one ever really went up there. You could see a small view of the town, as well as the windmills surrounding it. 

You were leaning over the railings, and only turned around to give Kaeya a half-glare, crossing your arms over your chest. “Came up here to tease me more?” You said, earning another chuckle from Kaeya. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, love,” 

He lifts your face up to meet his using his finger. His grin is handsome, and the moonlight illuminates his eye that much more. Your hands rest on his shoulders as he comes nearer and you mumble at him almost accusingly. “Liar. You couldn’t keep your hands off me during the meeting...” 

Kaeya doesn’t say anything but does slither an arm around your middle. He was a menace. The Favonius meetings were long sometimes, and you guessed that he got bored. He kept nudging you with his knee, and at some point had even secretly placed his hand on your thigh, tracing patterns on it with his finger, pretending to listen to the meeting minutes. 

Kaeya leans in to whisper into your ear, his breathy voice sends a shiver down your neck and spine. “Can’t help it, your squirming is fun to watch,” and that’s how he gets you to press your lips on his. Just with a little urging, a little teasing, a little subtle touch. It drives you crazy and it entertains him to no end. 

“Someone’s impatient,” he whispers again when you pull back, “It’s your fault,” you whisper back. This time he’s the one who makes the move. His kisses are perfect. It touches more than just your lips, it reaches your soul, your heart and the very core of your being. You’re always left wanting more. He knows how to kiss in a way that has you chasing for more, clutching at him for more. He knows that when he sucks at your bottom lip you’ll mewl and bite his back. The heated exchange continues, up until the door to the rooftop slams open. 

“Sir Kaeya--Oh...Uhm...I--” The knight who walks in realizes Keaya is in the middle of something. Kaeya doesn’t have plans to turn around, but he does so only to briefly address the knight. “I’ll be there in five minutes,” Kaeya doesn’t wait for the knight to leave, and proceeds to continue kissing you until your lips are sore.

Kazuha

Gentle but will catch you off guard. Always starts off with innocent kisses up until it escalates into a desire that he can’t ignore. 

The bird’s nest of the ship. That small lookout on the highest point of the mast, where a crewmember would stay and warn the other crew members if there was an impending doom coming. Like a storm, or another big ship, or a small ship they should avoid. It’s an important part of the ship, but also a somewhat private little getaway. 

The breeze is always nice up here, but when night falls it becomes a tad too chilly and you end up wrapped up in Kazuha’s arms and warmth. You stay like that for a moment, just enjoying the lull of the sea and the sound of the waves. After a while longer you tip your head up to look at him, finding that he’s gazing tenderly at you. 

You smile, and he follows. A little piece of heaven was so easy for him to obtain with you in his life. You tip your head up to invite him for a kiss, and he effortlessly meets your lips romantically. It takes your breath away, the manner in which he silently claims your lips as his and only his. It’s not demanding nor forceful at all, yet something about it makes you surrender and your knees start feeling weak.

His arms tighten around you, he pulls away for a brief second, only for air and comes back in immediately. This time it feels like his lips scorches yours, the flame that ignites leaves you whimpering for more, clutching at his arms, senseless to everything else except his kiss. 

The only reason it stops is because you’re suddenly jerked away from him. He startles as well, feeling his feet sway a little, but his hold on you is protective and reassuring. A strong wave had nearly tipped the two of you off balance, and Kazuha looks beyond the sea to see that a storm might be brewing. 

He chuckles a little, aware that he got carried away for a moment there. “Let’s go back down, love. It’ll get dangerous up here in a few,”

Scaramouche 

Rough and demands it when he wants it. For him it’s like an impulse, or maybe the result of holding back too much and suddenly exploding with want. 

He was sour the whole day, and you had no idea why. Possibly one of his moods. He took it out on nearly all his subordinates, shouting about how everyone here was incompetent and useless. 

When night fell and the men had fallen back to their makeshift tents or quarters, Scaramouche came back to his and your tent, done antagonizing everyone for the day. He doesn’t say much as he undresses and prepared for the night, slipping on a simple shirt and shorts. You were already on your shared cot, reading a book about something trivial. 

He climbs in with a huff and you can’t help but smile at how childish his temperate was sometimes, but you’re startled when he climbs on top of you, your wrists are suddenly pinned above your head by his lone hand. “S-Scara--”

Wordlessly, his lips demandingly bears down on yours. You let out a slight sigh as you kiss, your eyes immediately closing at how possessive the kiss felt, but it’s exactly the way you like it. You part your mouth for him, and his tongue lashes in like strong waves pulling you under a sudden splash of desire. 

The way he kisses you is beyond hungry, devouring your lips and all your senses to focus only on him. “Scara--!” was the only thing you could let out when he pulls back for a breath, a string of saliva connecting the two of you, your face incredibly flushed. That prompts him to do more, moving to yet again taste your lips.

“Sir? There’s an emergency out at the waterfalls. It seems that the resistance is closing in,” 

Scaramouche pulls away and curses under his breath. He’s about to kill that soldier who’s standing outside the tent. He climbs away from the bed and starts getting dressed again, leaving you breathless on the bed. Still, you would think he would just leave, but for you, he comes back to where you rest and places a kiss on your forehead. “Wait for me, puppy. Won’t be long,” 

Tartaglia

Mischievous and almost calculated. Beckons you to initiate it and leads you into it.

His meeting with the other Fatui agents just ended, and he’s left exhausted and melting into the sofa he was sitting on. His body is totally limp, just wanting to do nothing for a moment in the living room of his hotel suite. Sure, he loved the adrenaline of battle and the excitement it brought. But meetings were something else, it took a lot out of him. 

“Childe?” You peer into the living room, having taken refuge in the bedroom that whole time while he took care of his business. He immediately perks up at your voice, his energy levels spiking at the thought of you. “Here, Y/N, we’re done,” he confirms and beckons you over with his hand.

You step out of the bedroom door and walk over to him on the couch, yelping when he easily pulls you atop him, forcing you to straddle him, your knees on the couch and your hands on his shoulders. “Childe!” 

He only chuckles and leans back, liking the view of things, one of his hand lazily placed on your waist. “It’s been a long day honey,” he sighs out and takes his other hand to cradle your cheek. “I think I deserve a kiss,” 

Indeed he does and you agree with no complaints. You straddle his lap fully when you lean in and hotly connect your lips. Your scent is hypnotic to him, the only thing in the world that could ever catch him off guard was you. He encases your waist in his arms, pulling you closer to him until you’re pressed against each other.

“Mm,” a hint of a moan escapes his lips and into yours. He doesn’t stop kissing you, the intensity increasing with each one. He starts to kiss you in a way that makes your toes curl and your insides burn, your brain melting into nothingness, not even noticing that your hands start to slide up his shirt.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You pull away, only to be pulled back in. “Keep going,” he breathes out, ignoring the obvious knocking on the door. 

“Sir--I’m sorry. We’ve forgotten to report an important part of the mission,”

Childe clicks his tongue, but he hoists you up in his arms and shouts back. “I’m off-duty, come back tomorrow,” before the two of you disappear into the bedroom.

Thoma

Natural. It just happens when it happens. There’s not much thinking involved and there’s no prior teasing. 

He’d been busy for a while, setting up things and making sure everything was in place for the Irodori festival. You, being a worker at Yae Publishing house, was also busy during that time period. For the whole festival you didn’t see each other, nor did you have the time to pass by even for a short greeting. 

On the final day of the festival, Thoma finds himself waiting for you to finish your shift at the Yae Publishing House stall. “Thoma!” You run up to him, delighted to see your lover after a long week, he meets you with a hug and laugh, spinning you around once before setting you down again and walking to the restaurant that the two of you agreed to eat at for dinner that day.

It was also the celebration of the end of all your hard work for the festival. For this special occasion, he had requested a private dining room for the two of you. The night started off as normal, the two of you talking about your respective events and duties. 

“I missed you,” he suddenly interjects in the middle of your story. He just couldn’t help it, it’s been so long since he saw your smiling face. “Ah, sorry, you can continue your story,” he waves a hand, urging you to go on, but you’ve stopped and shifted a little closer to him. “...I missed you too, Thoma,”

And just like that your lips were inviting his. He drops his chopsticks and turns to face you, his hands on both sides of your face to bring you closer to him, to feel his lips melt and combine with yours. He feels your fingers clutch at his shirt. Thoma’s kisses makes you forget your own name. Makes your heart beat faster and faster until it feels like exploding. Every time your lips come apart and together again you’re spun into a dizzying world of fireworks and passion. 

“Y/N...” he whispers before he dives in yet again, your hands now tugging at his hair, as if wanting to sink into him deeper. 

“Your drinks are here!” The door slides open rather suddenly and the two of you jerk apart, faces an intense red. The server is oblivious and hums to herself while placing the glasses on your table. “Enjoy!” She says before retreating out and sliding the door shut again. 

The two of you are tense, but when you meet eyes, you can’t help but let out a snicker, he follows and the two of you are just laughing it off seconds later. 

Venti

It’s like a form of entertainment for him, like a hobby. He loves kissing you and he doesn’t hide that at all.

“Venti...are you drunk?” You ask as you sit next to him at the tavern. He’s rather rowdy today, but he raises an eyebrow at your query. “Me? I haven’t even had a drink yet Y/N! I’m just excited I have time to visit the tavern again!” 

The two of you are off to a table on the side, it’s a little secluded, but in no ways was it private. The deeper the night got the more people came in, but you realized that Venti wasn’t drinking any booze at all. In fact his attention was all on you, just talking to each other and enjoying each other’s company. 

You don’t quite understand Venti’s attraction towards you. It’s as if he appeared one day and decided to latch on to you. Was it really love? Or just fascination? Still, he was a handful, but he was able to take care of you and be considerate of your feelings, despite being energetic and carefree all the time. 

“...and so we decided to leave Dragonspine,” you finished your story, drinking some of your mocktail and noting that Venti was nodding at you with sparkling eyes. 

“It must’ve been cold up there, hm?” He simply says and it dawns on you only now that his arm is wrapped around your waist and the two of you are quite cozy in that position, your body tucked in his. “You’re so cute, Y/N. It’s almost unbearable, ehe~” 

Then, his eyes light up almost instantly. “Ah, you haven’t given me a kiss today! You were so busy in the morning that you forgot!” He leans in, putting his face out for you but you feel your cheeks heat up and decline his offer. “Idiot, we’re in public!”

He’s silent for a moment, realizing that you’re shy, and for some reason that face of yours spurs him even more to try and kiss you. Assertively, he uses his hand to move your turned away face to meet his and he’s the one who leans in for a mind-bending kiss. 

You gasp into it, eyes widening at his bravery. Although it was loud in the tavern all you could really hear was your heart beating in your chest. He doesn’t let up, you feel his tongue prodding your lips, asking to be let into your hot mouth and your eyes close automatically, losing yourself into the sudden tingling sensation running up your spine. 

He kisses you like you’re the finest wine he’s ever tasted, he drinks you up like he hasn’t had water in days and you feel his mouth just pressing on yours over, and over, and over again--

BANG! 

The two of you startle away from each other. One of the waiters has smacked a medium barrel of wine on your table. The type that was for sharing and had a spout connected to it. The waiter saw you kissing, but he didn’t bat an eyelid. That happened all the time in the tavern. Instead, he actually grinned and said. “Here’s that wine you ordered, this’ll warm you both up quick,” and left cackling. 

Xiao

Always doesn’t expect how he likes kissing so much. He doesn’t usually initiate but when it happens he’s also surprised by the hunger he has for your lips. It’s almost like the demon inside him comes out and wants to devour you.

Xiao has his own room in Wangshu Inn, but he doesn’t use it as much as one would think. He rarely needed sleep and staying in human quarters just seemed odd to him. He never got used to it. 

As an adepti, the outdoors was his calling. It’s where he spent most of his time, even with his brothers and sisters back when they were all together. In a way he was very in touch with nature and his surroundings. 

Today he spent the usual night up on the Wangshu rooftop with you. Looking down at the lights and the people weaving in and out. You came to him that night with red lipstick on, and it’s not because you had intentionally put it on. It was because you just finished an opera performance at the inn, and though you weren’t the lead singer you worked as a background dancer, and sometimes that required makeup that stood out, specially in Chinese opera. 

Xiao had seen your performances several times. He didn’t say much about it, but he did comment once that he thought the story was beautiful and that your moves matched the story. That was more than enough for you, coming from him.

That night, you were merely wanting to say a brief hello, just as you always did after a show. “I’ll be going now, Xiao,” you say after a moment but his hand reaches out for your wrist and holds you in place.

You turn back with a curious look on your face, wondering if he was alright. “Xiao?” He gently pulls you towards him, and stares at your face. Something in him aches to kiss you. To mess up your makeup.

He moves you over to the wooden railing of the rooftop, your back pressing against it and him trapping you in between. He continues to stare at your lips, and you finally get the message. “Xiao, do you want to...” you gulp, and he does as well. His eyes dart up towards yours, as if asking for permission.

The permission you give is your eyes closing, head tilting the slightest bit forward, letting yourself fall vulnerable in front of him. He lets out a slight sigh at the sight before pressing your mouths together. His hand finds its way to your scalp, moving you closer to him, tasting your moist lips. 

He’s aware that he’s possibly smearing lipstick all over himself, but that just heightens his desire. He wants it all over him, only him and when he pulls back to see the mess that he made of you, eyes clouded over, red lipstick smudged to the side of your lips, mouth parted as if asking for more and panting, he lets out an almost guttural groan and plunges in for more. 

It’s intense, like his lips had a mind of its own and he wants nothing more than for you to just hold on to him like this forever. And then, in a sudden split second, he disappears into black smoke. 

“Here’s your dinner Xiao!” The chef of Wangshu inn, Smiley Yanxiao appears at the entrance of the rooftop, but when he looks around and doesn’t see Xiao there, he scratches his head and addresses you instead. You who was covering your lips to conceal how smeared your lipstick was. “Hey, Y/N, tell Xiao that I’m placing his dinner here, okay? Thanks!” 

He proceeds to place the almond tofu dish on a table off to the side and turns around to go back to the kitchen. Your heart is still hammering in your ears and you’re not sure if what happened earlier had really transpired. But when you blink your eyes again and Xiao reappears in front of you, face covered in a rare blush and avoiding your gaze, you’re a hundred percent sure it had happened, and you can’t help but feel your heart skip another beat at that. 

Zhongli

Patient. Knows how to bide his time. It’s not rushed or sloppy. It’s slow and sensual and he knows what he’s doing.

“Darling, I’ll be off soon,”

It’s how your mornings with him usually start. He wakes up to tend to his duties as a worker in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and you also have to attend to your duties as a simple hairdresser in Liyue Harbor. Appointments with you are usually done in your home, where you and Zhongli lived. Occasionally you do home visits and go to the client’s home instead of them coming to you. 

“Mmhmm, I’ll see you later,” You rush over to him who is already at the door, tip toe for a quick kiss and attempt to unfurl away from his hold, only for him to hold on to you tight. 

He doesn’t like rushed kisses, though the two of you are busier than usual this morning he’ll hold fast to his promise of giving loving kisses. Never rushed nor in a hurry. “Hold on a moment, dear,” he requests and holds your chin in his hand, slightly squeezing your cheeks and holding it up for him to dip down properly and sensually into a heart-melting kiss. 

It gets you every time, and you don’t know how he does it. There’s always an air of confidence in his kiss, he knows what he’s doing and he knows that it gives you butterflies in your stomach. This morning, however, instead of you pulling away satisfied with just one, you ask for more by putting your hands lightly around his neck. 

He gets the message and leans into your touch, pulling you by the waist, flattening your whole body against him and starting to deepen the kiss by the second. Glued to one another he claims your mouth sensually, still not in a rush. When your lips come together, it’s soft, but it’s searing hot, as if his lips is melting your skin and kissing every crevice of your being. “Zhongli...” you breathe out when you pull apart for a second, not knowing where your sudden desire comes from. 

“Hm...” He merely lets out, amused at this development and continuing to brush his lips against yours. There’s a knock on the door, and that’s a clear sign that the two of you had kissed for too long. Zhongli chuckles, knowing that it must be your first appointment for the day. Just as quickly, he regains composure and kisses your forehead for a final goodbye, like nothing had happened at all. 

You’re the one who’s still flustered, staring at his back and wondering how he could open the door and converse happily with the middle aged woman waiting outside your home. You almost pout, but you see him turn towards you and mouth the words “Let’s continue later,” before he bids you goodbye and leaves you with your first client.

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[1111jenx]

𖤓Synastry series: Sun in the Houses𖤓

MASTERLIST — for more quality posts✨

💘Sun in the 1st House: Beneath the celestial canvas of this synastry placement, a tale as enchanting as a dream unfurls. The house person, akin to a night sky, emanates a radiant glow, echoing the Sun person's presence. To them, the Sun is their guiding star, the source of their joy, their radiant beacon in a universe otherwise cloaked in darkness. A profound contentment envelops them when bathed in the Sun's light, an authentic happiness as splendid as dawn's first light. The Sun, in return, basks in the house person's deep-rooted admiration, mirroring it back like a tranquil lake reflecting the midday sun. This tandem, like a pair of celestial bodies, graces the universe with laughter, an exquisite sonnet of shared joy. Together, they shimmer, illuminating the surrounding cosmos with their radiant togetherness, a spectacle of love that outshines the stars. Yet, within this symphony of love, a certain possessiveness persists, a gravitational pull that binds them irrevocably. They perceive the other as their celestial twin, their sole companion in the vast expanse of the universe. An echo of 'mine' resonates between them, an assertion of mutual ownership that is as potent as the heart's deepest longing. But as is the nature of celestial bodies, clashes may occur, ego battles akin to cosmic storms, threatening to disrupt their harmonious orbit. However, even these conflicts are silver-lined, offering pearls of wisdom and shaping their cosmic journey in profound ways. In the radiant presence of one another, they shimmer with unspoken brilliance. They ignite the best within each other, like distant galaxies awakening to their own magnificence. The house person swells with pride in the comforting glow of the Sun, who, in their unerring wisdom, whispers words that elicit pure, unadulterated joy. They orbit in their celestial dance, two bodies radiating love, learning, and laughter, a testament to the poetic resonance of their shared existence.

💘Sun in the 2nd House: In this bond, we find two souls who naturally stir each other's desires and comforts. Together, they revel in life's luxurious offerings, savoring the finest fruits of existence. The Sun person, like a guiding star, helps the House person grasp their true worth, understand their needs, and appreciate their resources. If the stars align favourably, their partnership blooms into something extraordinary, blessed by the gracious hand of Venus. They see worth in each other, a priceless treasure that enriches their shared journey. The Sun person recognizes the unique gifts the House person brings to the table. Yet, there's a shadow to the Sun's warm glow; a tendency to possess, to control, often without realizing. The House person, drawn in by the Sun's radiance, finds themselves doing more to please the Sun, adjusting to their needs, no matter what those might be. In this dance of connection, they move in harmony, a duet of love, desire, and mutual respect.

💘 Sun in the 3rd House: In their shared space, words intertwine like star-crossed lovers, ceaseless, captivating. Little disagreements dance on the edge of their tongues, only to be silenced by the tender symphony of make-up kisses. This placement weaves a sense of familiarity, a strange déjà vu, as if their souls have crossed paths in another life, another time. An unspoken comfort lingers between them, a tranquility that whispers of home. Conversations flow like rivers to the sea, their intellectual discourse as effortless as the wind caressing the leaves. The House person finds a certain charm in the Sun's words, hanging onto them like a melody that never grows old. The Sun, on the other hand, sees the House person as a precious gem, something to shield from the world's harsh edges. Their interaction is a feast for the mind, a stimulation that sings to those who crave deep, intellectual bonds. In this union, comfort abounds. Each word spoken, each secret shared, peels away another layer, revealing the essence of who they truly are. Their openness is as natural as a flower blooming under the spring sun, a testament to their profound connection. Intimate moments are shared in the small details - the clasp of their hands, a language written in the lines of their palms, a silent promise of enduring togetherness. Inside jokes punctuate their interactions, shared laughter blooming in their personal garden of camaraderie. A timeless dance of love and intellectual stimulation, their union weaves a tapestry of memories, each thread gleaming with their shared joy and affection.

💘 Sun in the 4th House: In the embrace of the House person, the Sun finds a home, an abode that whispers of permanence, a space it never yearns to desert. The sanctuary of their presence is a magnet to the Sun, a refuge radiant with solace. This cosmic alignment is intriguing, for it oscillates between providing profound comfort and eliciting the chill of fear, particularly if the Sun's chart is parched of the life-giving water element. There's an undeniable allure in the vulnerability this placement offers. The House person peers into the Sun, seeing its authentic self, acknowledging its limitless potential, and loving it unabashedly. They are the unwavering shield to the Sun, sometimes blindly so, standing in steadfast support irrespective of the circumstances. In response, the Sun flourishes. It blossoms with an ethereal beauty, basking in the adoration it receives, thriving on the nourishment of support. The presence of the House person is a soothing balm, a calming melody that seems to know the right notes to bring tranquility. The House person, in their turn, reveals a clear soft spot for the Sun, perhaps even forgiving their occasional bursts of tempestuous heat. It's a placement that prompts both introspection and reflection, a cosmic dance that sees them turning inward, mirroring each other's steps. Together, they discover a respite from their armor, a space where they can shed their toughness. They become a testament to the beauty of vulnerability, an echo of support and affection that resonates in the celestial symphony of their unity.

💘 Sun in the 5fth House: A placement I hold dear, is a dance of two cosmic entities feeling as though they've discovered their mirrored soul. It's not just a joyous union but one filled with exhilarating thrills and daring adventures. They revel in their shared laughter, their exchanges brimming with the innocence of child-like banter. Yet, beneath this playful veneer, there lies an infatuation, clear and profound, humming in the spaces between their words. The House person transforms into an eternal flame, a radiant beacon matching the Sun's relentless luminescence. The Sun, in turn, gazes upon the House with a sense of awe, often entranced by their seeming perfection. The House, in the Sun's eyes, feels like an equal partner, a reflection of their inner self. The fifth house is synonymous with romance. It's a fixed house, firmly rooted in its position, a steadfast testament to the House person's feelings towards the Sun. Regardless of their playful mind games, their seemingly flighty demeanor, their feelings towards the Sun person persist, burning with unwavering intensity. To the Sun, the House becomes an escape from the mundane, their daily dose of joy, their most ardent cheerleader. It's an alignment at times witnessed in tales of enemies turned lovers to bestfriends, an exciting dynamic where they continually challenge and dare each other to delve deeper into life's mysteries. It's a placement pulsating with positive energy, echoing with shared giggles, and resonating with playful touches. It's a cosmic dance of two entities, navigating the universe hand in hand, their hearts beating in a rhythm that speaks of love, laughter, and endless adventure.

💘 Sun in the 6th House: In this celestial arrangement, the Sun finds itself nestled in a house of pragmatism and routine, shedding its brilliant light upon the practicalities of daily life. These constellations spin tales not of grand careers or cosmic pursuits, but of everyday work, the quiet rhythm of health and wellness, the structure of routines and the serene act of service. In this dance of the stars, the Sun's light illuminates pathways to healthier eating, disciplined exercise, and even companionship with beloved pets. The Sun, in its radiant role, serves as a guiding beacon for the 6th house dweller, leading them towards the sanctity of a balanced lifestyle. It may inspire a shared commitment to physical exertion, perhaps in the form of joining a gym, or ignite conversations about nutritious diets and wellbeing. The Sun person may even act as a catalyst, helping the 6th house dweller establish routines that reinforce physical and mental health. Yet, the orbits of these celestial bodies might lead them down professional paths that intertwine, potentially finding one in the service of the other. However, with the Sun's position in the practical 6th house, a word of caution is warranted. The equilibrium of give and take must be carefully maintained to prevent the transformation of helpfulness into servitude. It's crucial that neither the Sun nor the 6th house dweller feels overburdened, their efforts unreciprocated.. It inspires a mutual journey towards better physical and mental health, encouraging each to uplift the other, illuminating their shared path with the light of practical wisdom and mutual care.

💘 Sun in the 7th House: In the grand tapestry of the cosmos, this placement is akin to a celestial masterpiece, an ideal constellation in the realm of astrology. The Sun, in its radiant glory, casts its golden light upon the 7th house, a house rich with the resonance of companionship, the solemnity of marriage, the intimacy of one-on-one relationships, the practicalities of business partnerships, the binding power of contracts, and the hidden faces of our alter-egos or shadow selves. In this dance of the stars, the Sun person stirs a longing within the 7th house dweller, a yearning for partnership, perhaps even a hankering for the sacred bond of marriage. The 7th house person may perceive the Sun person as the embodiment of their perfect mate, a mirror reflecting all the qualities they admire yet feel they lack. This celestial alignment weaves a balancing harmony in their relationship, as the Sun person displays characteristics and idiosyncrasies that the 7th house person cherishes but doesn't possess. As the 7th house is the celestial realm of marriage and contracts, the potential for wedded bliss, or perhaps a formal business partnership, is a tangible possibility should their relationship endure the test of time. However, as with any celestial arrangement, there are potential pitfalls to navigate. The two may become so entwined that they lose their individualities, their identities blurring until they cannot discern where one ends and the other begins. It is vital to remember that they are unique souls united, not a singular entity. Additionally, the mirage of the ideal mate may only be visible to the eyes of the 7th house person, with the Sun person potentially oblivious to this perception. The entirety of the synastry chart must be considered to gauge the mutual feelings of compatibility and the potential for enduring companionship. Thus, in this symphony of stars and planets, the dance of destiny unfolds, charting a course of love, partnership, and shared dreams.

💘 Sun in the 8th House: The placement of the Sun in the 8th house is a pas de deux that is not meant for those with faint hearts. It is a dance where the dancers—the Sun and the 8th house person—are likely to be pulled in one of two extreme directions. They may find themselves entwined in an intoxicating whirl of magnetic attraction, an intense passion that seizes them, or they may feel an unsettling disturbance, a disquiet that rattles their core, often swaying between these polar opposites. The Sun, in its radiant role, casts an unflinching light on the profound themes of the 8th house, illuminating the shadowy corners of sexuality, the cyclical dance of death and rebirth, the tumult of transformation and crisis, the journey of personal growth and evolution, the undercurrents of psychology and addiction, the intricacies of finance, and the hushed whispers of societal taboos. These subjects, often shrouded in mystery, may either captivate or unsettle the house person. They might either welcome the Sun person into their hidden depths or push them away. The house person might perceive the Sun as an enigmatic entity, while the Sun person uncovers the secrets that the 8th house person keeps hidden from the world. Should both individuals bear the mark of Pluto's dominance, or have a strong 8th house presence in their natal chart, this union may flourish in mutual fascination. However, if one or both harbor hidden trauma or suppressed shame, this intense connection could serve as a deterrent, overwhelming their senses. This celestial arrangement signifies the potential to unravel each other's hidden layers, maintaining a profound bond that might lead to mutual transformation. Yet, caution must be exercised to prevent power dynamics or manipulative tactics from seeping into their relationship. Ultimately, this celestial alignment can flourish if both are open to exploring the depths of each other's souls, embracing growth and transformation, and traversing the labyrinth of shared secrets.

💘 Sun in the 9th house: The Sun weaves golden threads into the 9th house tapestry, infusing wisdom's domain with the vibrancy of its radiance. This divine dance resonates with the seekers, the dreamers, those who chart the star-studded expanse of their fate, guided by an insatiable thirst for depth and meaning. The Sun, a luminary beacon, casts an ethereal glow on the winding paths of philosophy, spirituality, and the rich tapestry of global culture, sparking a flame in the 9th house soul, igniting the tinder of curiosity and wanderlust. In the sacred dance of their divergent or converging beliefs, they find a melody, a rhythm that binds them in an intricate ballet of understanding. Their shared intrigue transcends the constraints of culture, religion, and philosophy, knitting them closer in the vast expanse of human thought. Together, they traverse oceans, cross continents, and journey through the labyrinth of the mind and the world, venturing into territories unseen and unexplored. Yet caution must be heeded, for clashing perspectives may strike discordant notes, marring the celestial harmony. But through the crucible of understanding and growth, they shall rise, bound by a shared quest for enlightenment and truth. Soaring high, they ascend to the sublime realm of knowledge, guided by the radiant beacon of the Sun.

💘 Sun in the 10th house: The Sun, in its radiant glory, casts a shimmering glow upon the 10th house, bathing the lofty pinnacles of ambition, authority, and societal prestige in golden light. The 10th house individual beholds the Sun, seeing within its fiery aura the embodiment of a mentor, a guiding star, perhaps even a paternal figure. In this celestial dance, the Sun nurtures the dormant seeds of promise within the 10th house soul, kindling a fire that empowers them to scale the towering heights of professional achievement and public recognition. Unseen currents may churn, as the tides of power and authority ebb and flow, wrestling for harmonious balance. Should the rhythm of their hearts align, with the melody of guidance and humility ringing louder than the discordant notes of dominance, their shared journey shall carve a path to victory in the grand stage of career and societal prominence. Together, they'll ascend the mountain of success, guided by the Sun's resplendent glow.

💘 Sun in the 11th house: As the Sun anoints the 11th house with its golden kiss, souls intertwined in this celestial ballet discover a fellowship deeper than mere companionship. They merge as confidants, their dreams and aspirations entwining like tendrils of starlight, fueled by a shared devotion to the grand tapestry of humanity. Hand in hand, they champion noble crusades, threading their bond of friendship through a loom of diversity and acceptance. The Sun, a celestial minstrel, serenades the 11th house soul, inspiring them to dance in the unique rhythm of their being. In turn, the 11th house individual perceives the Sun as a lighthouse of acceptance, its unwavering beam illuminating their path in times of tumult. For hearts fluttering to the cadence of romance, seek reinforcement from other heavenly harmonies, for a profound friendship forms the bedrock of enduring love.This cosmic duet, a symphony of souls, signals unity, mutual respect, and a shared pledge to a future as radiant as the Sun. Their shared bond, an ethereal waltz, tells a tale of harmony, shared dreams, and a commitment to a collective dawn where every dream finds its home.

💘 Sun in the 12th house: As the Sun slips into the enigmatic embrace of the 12th house, its bright sovereignty is shrouded in gauzy veils of mystique, spirituality, and the unseen. To the house person, the Sun appears as an ethereal apparition, a spectral force oscillating between healing and bewildering, like a siren's call echoing through the vast and shadowy cosmos. Shrouded in the silken shadows of the subconscious, their connection pulses like a hidden heartbeat, a secret rhythm known only to them. This clandestine bond invites introspection and self-discovery, a voyage into the deep waters of their shared consciousness. For the Sun person, the depths of the 12th house may feel like a labyrinth of twilight, where their radiant essence is held in a silent waltz, yearning for the symphony of expression. When suspicion or paranoia creep into this celestial bond, trust must be kindled like a beacon in the deep, for their connection thrives on the revelation of buried truths and the unearthing of the divine spark within. With hearts aglow and an attuned awareness of their spiritual dance, they navigate the labyrinthine realms of the soul, transcending the mortal shackles, and ascending into an otherworldly romance. This sacred journey, a testament to their courage, becomes an intimate dance between two souls weaving their way through the cosmic tapestry, seeking the divine in each other.

Thank you for staying til the very end loves, I hope you enjoy this as much as I do, let me know your thoughts in the comment🤍

love,

saint jenx🪐

© 2023 Saintz Jenx All Rights Reserved

[sorceresssundries]

Heatwave

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: It is the final social event of the summer season, and Tav has dressed poorly for a festival in the midst of a heatwave. One-shot.

Warnings: Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Sweat-licking, Smut.

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Another smutty Austen inspired work with a bit of fluff! This time in a universe outside of BG3. There definitely seems to be a weather theme in these one-shots. Maybe they'll fuck in the snow next, who knows?

The Festival of Shieldmeet had dominated conversations throughout the city all summer long. With the event occurring only once every four years, the anticipation had reached a fever pitch, rendering even the sweltering heatwave a minor inconvenience. The idea of postponing or, heaven forbid, cancelling such a revered social event due to something as minor as the weather was simply inconceivable.

The festival was being held in the sprawling grounds belonging to some Lord or Lady who had earned the privilege of hosting. In the heart of a large, manicured, bloom-laden garden stood a bandstand where bards were tuning their instruments, ready to serenade the guests with summer melodies. Alongside it stretched a long table adorned with dishes piled high with the richest Waterdhavian delicacies. Attendants in crisp uniforms weaved through the crowds, bearing trays laden with sparkling drinks in tall glasses, as well as refreshing juices and icy water. There also seemed to be tables scattered around with trays stacked with rolled up flannels sitting in ice, patiently waiting to be scooped up and dabbed at the forehead of the sweltering guests - These seemed to be a welcome addition, as there was scarcely any shade to be found anywhere. 

Tav found herself in a state of utter misery. Seeking solace from the stifling crowds, she had retreated to the embrace of the shade beneath an oak tree bordering the garden, where she fervently fanned herself out of sight. She had naively and desperately assumed that the shade would cool her, but despite the protection from the sun’s direct attention the air was still just as cloying, and squeezed her with suffocating stillness. What she wouldn’t give for even the whisper of a breeze. The sad little paper fan she had acquired was doing very little work for her, just pushing the warmth forwards and heating her even further in her efforts to keep it moving. 

For some inexplicable reason she couldn't recall, she had chosen to don her finest silk gown over a whalebone corset. It hugged her curves with an unforgiving grip, accentuating her form and lifting her breasts. With a smile as wide as her hips, she had admired herself in the mirror before departing. However, that smile faded the moment she stepped out of her cooled carriage and into the searing heat of the midday sun. She had immediately noticed the guests dressed in garments far more suited to the occasion than her own.

What a foolish notion this had been, she mused, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. She had no idea what had driven this madness. Well.. she thought as she peeked out from behind the tree and across at the crowd gathered in the garden, maybe she had a slight idea. 

Gale Dekarios was an exceptionally handsome man who exuded infuriating arrogance, boundless pride, and endless charm. From their first encounter at the spring ball, he had claimed her attention at every subsequent event. She had ‘accidentally’ stepped on his foot during one of their early dances, after he had explained to her his proficiency with magic and his gallant willingness to at least try and teach her some of his simpler spells. He had laughed at her annoyance, apologised profusely, and kissed her hand at the end of the evening. She had been aflame ever since.

Throughout the season, they had fallen into a familiar routine. Their ritual involved stealing glances at one another, offering subtle gestures of acknowledgment, and then both making a concerted effort not to meet eyes again. Yet, inevitably, one of them would find themselves drawn towards the other. It was a dance of restraint, leaving Tav exhilarated each time, despite the exhausting choreography. She was never really sure who was leading the dance, but at this moment, sweating and flustered and hiding behind a tree, Tav decided it probably wasn’t her. 

As each evening would draw to a close, he would always bid her goodnight with a kiss upon her hand, each time lingering longer than the last, and tell her how much he was looking forward to their next meeting. Upon returning home, Tav would often find herself lost in fantasies, imagining his hand tangled in her hair, his lips tracing the curves of her body. More often than not, these night-time reveries ended with her own desperate touch and his name cried out from her lips.

In the privacy of sweet slumber, she would dream of their next encounter, eagerly anticipating another opportunity to engage in their dance and hoping to step on his feet once more.

Maybe she had more magic in her than she realised, as her very thoughts appeared to have summoned him to her hiding place.

“Ah, Miss Taventon. I thought I spotted you retreating all the way out here.” He greeted her with his customary charm. As always, he was a vision to behold, with his dark, mischievously glinting eyes and sweeping brown locks pulled back from his face. Clad in simple yet impeccably tailored attire—a snug waistcoat over a pristine white shirt, adorned with a luxurious silken cravat, and well-fitted breeches. Frustratingly, he looked completely unaffected by the blistering warmth, and Tav thought she must look like a sweating, breathless fool in comparison. She only had time to be embarrassed momentarily, before she realised the precarious nature of their situation.  For the first time, they were properly alone together and Tav blushed at the thought of being found with him behind a tree so far away from the party. There would be a scandal. 

“Mr. Dekarios, a pleasure.” She looked around to try and see if anyone would catch them in their compromising seclusion, but it appeared they were safe for now. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me a little affected by the heat. I was just after a moment of respite.” She began to fan herself more fervently.

“Understandable, I'm sure. For one not versed in magic.” His smugness had returned, and Tav always treated it as a welcome challenge.

“Well, not all of us are as exceptional as you” She batted her eyelashes at him sweetly and took in his cool, handsome appearance. “Let me guess, enchanted clothing?” He bowed his head in confirmation of her appraisal, still looking smug and annoyingly unflustered by the heat. “A shame it could not chill your ego, but alas, I suppose your talent has to end somewhere.” 

His smile in return was genuine. He very much enjoyed her banter. Almost as much as he enjoyed seeing her sweating under the shade of the giant oak tree. 

He raised a hand in mock defeat. “Peace, my lady. I came bearing a gift. In an effort to cool your skin, and perhaps even your temper.” She really was ravishing in this state, he thought, overheated and fiery. He wondered whether she was aware of his true intentions in seeking her out. It was the final event of the summer season, and as such, their elaborate game would have to come to an end. 

As she reached out to accept the cool towel he offered, a surge of boldness seized him. With a swift motion, he closed the distance between them until he was almost pressed against her, and with a tender touch, he placed the cold flannel against the side of her neck. He had hoped it would elicit a reaction from her, at the very least a small gasp of surprise, but she remained silent. She just watched him as the droplets from the towel trailed slow down her neck, caressing her collarbone in the way his fingers ached to, and gathering to rest glistening on the shelf of her breasts which had been pushed up by her corset. 

He had thoughts of ripping it off her. The silk of her dress would tear like tissue in his practised hands, and he would cast the tatters of it into the wind and spend an entire afternoon finding where the pools of her sweat gathered. He ached to know what undergarments she was wearing, what colour, how the material would taste if he pressed his tongue against. It. He hoped it was white cotton, something the scent and taste of her would cling to - so damp with sweat and desire that he would be able to see her dark curls through the material. 

He could feel the cooling enchantment wrapped round him waning as his concentration and resolve were tested. Damn heat. Damn woman. She knew exactly what she was doing. Who wears a silk-wrapped corset in a heatwave? Each bead of sweat and whisper of her heated musk was a siren’s call, and he was determined to drown himself in the ocean of her. 

“I am no expert in fashion, Miss Taventon, but I must question the decision to wear a silk gown in such conditions. Surely linen, or cotton would have been preferable? Or maybe one enjoys the sensations brought on by basking in such stifling heat?” His tone was more frustrated than he meant it to be.

“I thought it would be light and cooling, Saer. Not all of us are gifted with the ability to enchant our clothing.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and wondered if every item he was wearing was enchanted.. She quickly snapped out of her musings “An unfortunate error on my part, I hadn’t taken into account the lack of breeze, or the…” 

“Stickiness?” He said, focusing intently on dabbing her neck and chest with the flannel and not meeting her eyes.

“The humidity. Yes.” 

He took a break from his attentions and discarded the flannel, to take a leisurely sip of his drink. The droplets of condensation cascaded down the glass like tiny beads of sweat. Tav couldn't help but watch, a pang of envy stirring within her as she observed the icy water slip downwards and through his fingers. There was too much electric heat here, strung out in the very air, no amount of cool water would save her. She needed to be swathed by him, to smother the flames until they burnt out into ash. Even then, she was certain there would be embers enough to fan back to roaring flame at just one breathy word from him. She was doomed kindling.

The soft clink of ice against glass filled the air as he drank, his gaze never wavering from hers. With intent, he parted his lips slightly, allowing a single ice cube to slide into his mouth. She couldn't tear her eyes away as he savoured it, rolling it around his mouth with his tongue.

“Most refreshing.” He breathed, after a long, heavy swallow,  “Could I tempt you with a sip?” 

“I..Maybe.. This heat has caused quite a desperate thirst. Although I notice you have only brought one glass. How impolite of you” She dropped her fan to the ground in vexation, stupid thing was not doing anything to help. There was no saving her now.

He smirked and bowed his head slightly. “Not to worry, dear lady.” His eyes darkened and his voice became a heated command. “Open your mouth for me”

At first there was shock, but then without question she did as she was told, like a girl entranced. With a deft movement of his fingers, he plucked another ice cube from his glass and placed it delicately on her waiting tongue. 

Tav saw a chance and took it.

Before he could withdraw his hand, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and the surprise in his eyes lit her like a firework. She burned for these moments, for any slip in his resolve, any evidence behind the refinery and politeness that there were things she could do that would shock him. If there was a crack in his armour, she would slip in like water and drown him in sin.

Locking eyes with him, she held his gaze steady as she took control. With a boldness she hadn't known she possessed, she leaned forward and enveloped his fingers in her mouth, sucking gently and letting the ice cube melt against her tongue in a sweet rush of cold. It was a calculated move, a daring play, and as she released his hand, a flicker of satisfaction fluttered in her eyes. The game was afoot, and she was changing the rules. 

She let go of his fingers, and smiled innocently. “How right you are as always, Mr.Dekarios. Most refreshing.” She lilted, still sucking on the remnants of the ice in her mouth. 

He had suddenly lost his footing. The blood that was keeping him focused and leading their little game had suddenly re-routed elsewhere, and he was struggling to compose thoughts. He had no words, so actions would have to do.

He drew closer to her, the space between them shrinking, and he reached out his hand to trace a delicate path from the warmth of her flushed cheek, along the elegant curve of her jaw, down to the hollow of her throat. There, just above the gentle rise and fall of her bosom, he noticed a glistening bead of sweat, which he captured with his fingertip. Bringing it to his lips, he savoured it, and made a noise of growling satisfaction. Her breath hitched beautifully in response.

"It appears you're still uncomfortably warm. I'd hardly be a gentleman if I allowed you to suffer like this." With a languid sip of his drink, he popped another ice cube into his mouth. 

“You are no…”  

He aimed to catch off guard before she could finish. He closed what little gap was left between them and all playfulness burned away in the heat, leaving nothing but desperation. Fuck games, fuck dancing around each other, and fuck that ridiculous silk dress she was wearing. She had won their game, and her prize would be for him to take her the way he had been wanting to for the entire summer. 

His glass fell to the ground with no thought at all, and he grabbed at her waist. Pushing her back against the tree and pinning her there with a leg between her thighs. He finally earned a gasp of surprise from her, as he pushed his lips against her throat, and pressed the ice cube against her pulsing skin with his tongue. 

The noise she made was tantalisingly balanced between relief and desire, and he kept the ice firmly against her as he moved it further down her neck, mimicking the trail of sweat his finger had traced earlier. He delighted in the way her skin prickled as the ice caressed her. She was divine. He wanted to tease her until she lost all of her brazen stares and cutting banter, and all that was left was a puddle of a woman. He wanted to undo her the way he would her clothes, and watch her fall apart under his hands, his tongue, the push of his hips…

"Someone... Will..." Her voice came out in gasping pleas as he continued caressing her with the ice. "Find us..." He needed to remove that damn corset soon; restricted breathing wasn't conducive to the way he wanted to hear her cry out for him— completely unbound. A fleeting desire crossed his mind to restrain her in other ways, at other times. But for now, he simply needed to see how the heat had flushed her body, with as little material between them as possible.

“You think I would allow anyone else to see you like this? I am not a man who shares his treasure.” His cocky little grin made a slight reappearance as he pulled his lips away from her damp skin to meet her eyes and offer some cooling sincerity. “A spell has been cast, no one will see nor hear us. You are safe with me, my dream. Always.”

He lost himself to a moment of softness, and caressed her face with total adoration.

“I have craved the taste of you all summer. The sun itself could not burn me in the way you have. I am a scorch mark, I am the cindered ashes of all restraint. You are my sun. And no one else will gaze upon you the way I will.”

There was no response adequate to match the sudden delicacy of his words, leaving Tav momentarily speechless. In that fleeting moment of enraptured, adoring silence, Gale misunderstood her reaction, his beautiful face falling with concern, fearing he had unwittingly caused her distress.

“Tell me you do not desire me, that this soft heat inflaming you is not at least partly caused by your feelings for me. Tell me I have imagined your eyes searching for me, your playful need for my hands on you as we dance, and I will leave it at this. I will have spent a summer loving you, and it will have been the brightest and warmest of all my seasons.” 

He loved her. The air suddenly felt lighter. He was the breeze she had been craving. 

Her bright smile cracked through the initial shock of his confession, and relief swept over him like a tide. “I know you have a vivid imagination, Mr. Dekarios. But put it away, it is not needed here. I have attended each event only in the hope of being in your presence. It seems we both have had a summer well spent.” She kissed him then; sweetly, lovingly and he laughed enough for the crinkles between his eyes to appear. 

It did not take long for the damned dress to be torn from the skin of her sweat-slicked body. For the corset to be ripped from its bindings. For the softness of her breasts to find their place against his tongue, nipples peaking as though the heat didn’t exist, his hot breath and cool tongue creating a heady mix of magic which made her skin sing. 

Tomorrow, there would be rough marks on her back from the bark of the tree - but for now the slight pain only added to the overwhelming sensations which crawled their way over her body, her sweat mingling with his as he tore off his shirt and pressed himself against her. Caging her against the trunk. His skin was cool against hers, and steam danced between them as though melted steel was being forged by cool water. He was hard, she could feel it. 

His tongue flattened at her skin of her neck and her breasts, and licked away the lust-induced sweat his affection had caused. The fresh, salty taste may as way have been laced with liquor for the effect it was having on him. She tasted of sweet wine with the faint hint of salt. It was subtle, but he needed something richer. His attention moved downwards, and It was not long till he reached that most sacred place, where he had been aching to lose himself in scent and taste. He took his time and inhaled her. Using his nose to caress her sweet spot as he relished in the full-bodied flavour of her. 

As soon as his mouth began lavishing her, she realised he had somehow extended the cooling enchantment to his tongue. Her head was thrown back against the tree in ecstasy, the press of his mouth against her quickly becoming too much for her to handle. There was a brief moment of self-consciousness, where she worried about how the heat of the day would affect her taste. But the worry was soon lost, the thought drowned out by the sound of his appreciation and the realisation that he was stroking himself as he devoured her. 

He was dedicated in his endeavour, although no amount of skin-tingling magic would be able to balm the fire coursing through her veins. She thought she would never cool, that she would be a woman on fire for the rest of her love-fuelled days. The sensation was mesmeric, and she could not remember a sweeter sensation than this man on his knees in front of her, face buried between her legs and using his tongue to caress her with such enthusiasm she felt as though she would fall apart. And fall apart she did. It was euphoric, and her hands gripped his hair fiercely as she crashed over rocks in reckless pleasure.  

When he came back up to meet her he was breathless and lust-drunk, giddy as a school-boy and stoked as a bonfire.  “There has never been a sweeter taste than you, my love.” He kissed her then, languidly, passionately - intent on sharing the riches of his exploration. Tav could taste herself in his kiss. They may as well have been sharing wine between their lips. 

“If you don’t fuck me soon, Gale, I swear I will combust.”

He laughed at this. At the desperation, at the slight annoyance in her voice, at the fact this was the first time she had ever said his given name and she had thrown it at him as a demand to push her against the tree and bury himself inside her. What a woman. 

He needed no further invitation; shedding the confines of his breeches, he pressed himself slowly into her warmth, and she made the most delicious groaning sound he had ever heard. This woman could drive him to madness, and thankfully he was aware that his earlier attentions ensured he need not be overly gentle. Knowing that his endurance would be short-lived, thanks to the fervour he had stoked within himself while bringing her to climax against his tongue, he abandoned all pretense of restraint. Together they were primal, the tension that had been building between them releasing in pure, carnal desire.  

Though a gentleman might have exercised more self-control, such decorum was a luxury he couldn't afford in the presence of such irresistible temptation. Stripped of his clothes, he found himself as vulnerable to the unrelenting heat of the day as Tav, and soon, his focused, determined passion ignited a sheen of sweat upon his skin.

Tav’s payback could not have been any sweeter, as soon as she noticed the sweat trickling down his neck she took her chance and licked it from his bronzed, silken skin. His response was a delicious, low moan and his rhythm faltered into something more urgent, unbound. His grip tightening, one of his hands found its way to rest gently against her throat so he could feel the deep moans rumbling against his palm as he fucked her.

“I love you” She breathed. And that’s all it takes. He is suddenly hurtling over a precipice and into sweet, tight oblivion. 

They both collapse onto the ground, sweaty, burnt-out, euphoric. And they fall into uninhibited laughter as they realise they can hear the band playing a jaunty tune in the distance, and the chatter of the ever-growing crowd is closer than they initially thought.

“You are still hidden from prying eyes, my dream.” Gale offered reassurance as he kissed her head. “And I will conjure up some suitable clothing for you, don’t worry.”

“That is most generous of you Saer, but please - by the Gods, no corset and no silk.”

[actual-changeling]

they meet up alone for the first time since- since. a roof top, to escape the bustling street below because the bookshop is full of broken dreams and bittersweet memories.

aziraphale is late, quietly showing up behind him before hesitantly walking and stopping on his left. for a moment, the air tastes like the first approaching thunderstorm and desert sand, like blooming plants and fresh apples.

for a moment, they're back on the walls of eden and familiar strangers.

"well, that could have gone better," aziraphale eventually mumbles, and crowley has to suppress the urge to throw him a glance and sigh. 

"we saved the world, didn't we?" 

his response is dry, tense with the weight of unspoken and spoken confessions, crackling like static between them and raising goosebumps on their skin.

"we did," he stops, clearly holding back more, and crowley's pulse quickens under the tenderness of his gaze, unseen but felt all the same. "crowley, there's something i want to say, and i- can you look at me? please?"

there was a time when he never stopped looking at him, following him with his eyes whenever he could see him and with his heart when he couldn't, yet when he takes his shades off now, turning to face him, crowley almost walks away.

sparkling hyacinth blue eyes, grey as storm clouds when they need to be, bright as a midday summer sky when he laughs, and so, so, so familiar. 

so, so loved.

he expects stuttered words and apologies, expects anger, maybe, and stoic heartbreak. what he doesn't expect is for aziraphale's pupils to swallow his irises whole as his hands fly up to grasp his shirt and pull him into a kiss. 

even caught off-guard, crowley melts into it immediately, reaching for soft cheeks and the nape of his neck, and this- this is coming home. not earth, not the bookshop, not the bentley, nothing except for the happy little sigh he can taste on his tongue and the heat of aziraphale's skin against his.

compared to their first kiss, it's impossible tender, still desperate but for entirely different reasons, a hello instead of a good-bye.

they pull back just enough to lean their foreheads together, breathing each other in, and crowley cannot help himself.

"i thought you wanted to tell me something?" he quips, his voice trembling and sounding adoring rather than teasing, but aziraphale lets out a tiny chuckle regardless.

"i did, but then i looked at you and just couldn't help myself. still, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry for hurting you. i'm angry you hurt me, but i-"

crowley tenses, muscles tight in an instead, but aziraphale stops himself in time.

"ah, i suppose i should find a better phrase, huh?"

"i'm sorry, too, aziraphale. angel." the smile tugging on aziraphale's lips encourages his to do the same with ease, and although a part of him is terrified down to his very essence, he inhales shakily and adds, "my angel."

no sudden rain appears, and isn't needed, not this time. nothing is perfect or easy, the opposite, really, and they both know it; there are dozens of lifetimes worth of pain to heal. 

but when aziraphale kisses the happiness off his face and leaves his own behind, humanity below them, around them, crowley thinks of a garden, an apple, and knows that he was right.

if it led them to this, to each other, he did the good thing, after all.

[arminsumi]

OUR LAST SUMMER.

五夏 ⋅ reader

PART OF THE 2k SPECIAL: ur fave duos!!

NOTE: yuh this hurt to write 🥹 was solely inspired by that one abba song i'm ngl i listened to it one night and related it to satosugu and cried like a bitch

SUMMARY — You, Suguru and Satoru shared one summer of bliss before everything fell apart

WARNINGS — fluff to angst 👍, love triangle, i think it's gn reader but lmk if there's something not gn thank u!!

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1k

PLAY ME ♪ Our Last Summer

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

It had been a blisteringly hot summer. Sweat beaded at Suguru’s forehead. The sun forced Satoru’s eyes into a perpetual squint. And you took shelter in the shade of a palm tree – the two boys met you there, when they too decided to take shelter in the shade. The chemistry between you three was explosive, truly chemical; that one of a kind, once in a lifetime kind of friendship that blooms instantly like a timelapse of a flower, that artists and poets try their hand at capturing but mostly fail.

Beach walks were impossible at midday – the sand was so hot that it burned the soles of your feet. If you were riskily treading barefoot, then the boys would take turns carrying you. Satoru carried you bridal style. Suguru carried you on his back. The prior liked to pretend that he was going to throw you into the ocean (and he did a few times…) and the latter liked to steal romantic glances at you.

Come night, you three crammed together in one hotel room. Conversations, debates, arguments, flirting… those all easily carried past the midnight hour. Satoru was the first to pass out, but Suguru being the insomniac of the group managed to stay awake even longer with you. Usually, you fell asleep in the middle of expressing a thought to Suguru, and then woke up the next morning to two bleary blue eyes blinking awake on your left and abyssal black eyes blinking awake on your right. Satoru rolled on top of you and refused to let you leave bed. Suguru smiled and told him to stop crushing you to death.

Breakfasts were met with late attendance – thanks to Satoru taking his sweet time in the bathroom getting ready. Plates piled and spilled with hotel buffet food; Satoru’s plate consisted solely of sweet pastries. The custard Danishes were his favourite. The three of you broke down laughing at your inside joke about him being the custard Danish robber; the three of you couldn’t catch your breaths from how hard you laughed at your own stupid jokes. “He’s at it again!” Suguru snorted, body falling into yours, eyes reduced to strips of pure joy.

Butterflies liked Suguru for some reason. It was awful for him – he was terrified of butterflies, they really creeped him out. During walks around Okinawa, you struggled to keep up with the two giants; Satoru never missed a beat when walking in sync with his best friend. And he also never missed the opportunity to pick on your slowness or size. Suguru would patch up your bruised ego with a well-timed compliment.

When your holiday in Okinawa was drawing to a close, you three decided to cram as much exploration as possible into those three last days. Pulling all-nighters, stargazing, joking around, sharing secrets, kissing as friends until those kisses became something more. The final day of your holiday was spent ascending a hill that overlooked the glittering beaches. Such a picturesque view. One you didn’t dare to capture in a photograph, because that felt disrespectful. It was a beautiful landscape that deserved to live only in the rich world of your memories.

On that grassy hill, in that briny wind, you three thought that the present moment would never end. You held hands. You kissed. Your hands felt warm. Your lips felt tingly. They both looked at you meaningfully.

“Come back to Jujutsu High with us.” You didn’t hesitate to agree, a sparkle in your eyes. No one in your life had ever accepted you as a sorcerer until they came along.

Summer ended…

And the school year began.

In the far future, when you and Satoru would reminisce together as old Jujutsu High teachers to your students, you two would summarize your high school days with very specific memories.

“Remember when we always got caught making out in the classroom, and Yaga chased us down the corridors?”

“ – and we’d loiter around the vending machines. You know, Yuji, Satoru had such a bad sweet tooth even back then. And! He! Stole! My! Lunches! He was a menace!! Don’t deny it, Satoru.”

“What I stole from you in food I repaid in saving your ass. Remember when you almost died? No joke, Megumi, Y/n almost died during that Alleyway Incident – you know that one we talked about? Yeah, that was Y/n. Suguru and I were stronger than Y/n so we always helped – heyyy! I’m just telling the truth!”

“Who was Suguru?”

The smiles dropped from yours and Satoru’s faces. The color drained out of them, too. Just one little name, six little letters, devastated the atmosphere. That’s when the reminiscing ceased abruptly, and Satoru stood up and excused himself to a quiet place. You and him never cried together, only separately – except for on that day.

That day was the first and only day you and Satoru broke down sobbing into each other. Snot dribbled out of your noses. Your eyes puffed up. Your faces felt tightened with the dried tears.

“Suguru, don’t leave. Come back with us to Jujutsu High, we can sort all of this out.”

But he turned and walked away from you and Satoru, disappearing into the crowd of people. You yelled so loudly that you hurt your lungs, “Did our last summer mean nothing to you! What about the memories we’ve made at school together?! Suguru, don’t you walk away from us! Don’t – leave us behind, S-Suguru did it all mean nothing to you?!”

Just like that, three reduced to two. Just you and Satoru. Sat on the steps in heavy, impenetrable silence. Faces planted into your palms. Back curved because you had no energy to sit up straight after such an exhausting cry. You never thought you’d look into Satoru’s eyes and see no light. Over the years, he lightened up – especially when he became a teacher. But you could tell he masked his true expression; a deadpan. The real emotions were forcefully forgotten.

[suuuupernovaaa]

tìwusem

tìwusem [English] n. fighting

Anonymous request: Would you please do a Neteyam x mtf Metkaniya reader, daughter of Ronal and Tonowari, if not gn please, who can't stand each other from the beginning much to the amusement and despair of their families, who slowly began to love the other but would forever deny it, until their siblings got fed up and take matters into their own hands?

Adult Neteyam. 1,529 words.

Kiri was exhausted by the back and forth between her eldest brother and Y/N, eldest daughter of Tonowari, the chief of the Metkayina. For months, the two morons had pretended to hate each other. At first, it seemed to be a genuine distaste.

Y/N thought that Neteyam didn't take his responsibilities as eldest son of Taruk Maktow seriously enough. In turn, Neteyam thought Y/N was too stern and, as he put it, full of herself.

Under that distaste, from the first argument they'd ever had, was an obvious tension and attraction - but it was too late for them to admit it now. They'd gone on, and on, and on about how much they didn't like each other, about how they hated one another, could not stand to be within 30 feet of each other... and now, they couldn't do anything about their obvious feelings.

Lo'ak was tired of it too, and had roped Tsireya in on their scheme. She didn't protest, she was absolutely sick up to her eyeballs of listening to her sister complain about Neteyam.

So, they devised a plan. They knew Neteyam was going on a hunt with the men of the tribe that very morning, and upon their return, they were going to tell Y/N that he'd been gravely injured in the hunt. As future Tsahik, they knew she'd rush to his side in a panic. They hoped the relief upon seeing Neteyam alive and well would force her to confess her feelings. If not that, at least she might shut up about hating him so much.

"She will be very angry with us," Tsireya said. "You, mostly."

Lo'ak looked offended. "Why me?"

Tsireya grinned and shrugged. "She babies Kiri, and can't hold a grudge against her little sister for too long, so she'll take it out on you."

"Well, whatever. Her being mad at me is better than listening to Neteyam talk about how awful she is constantly." He rolled his eyes, and took on a faux-Neteyam voice. "Y/N is so stuck up, she's so full of herself, she's not even that beautiful!"

In turn, Tsireya put on her best Y/N voice. "Neteyam is so stupid, how am I expected to teach that moron anything?"

The three devolved into a fit of giggles before deciding to press on with their devious plan.

---

I sat in the water, just near the shore, relaxing for a little bit as the midday sun was beginning to set. My tsurak swam nearby, just in case I needed her, but I didn't feel like going for a ride. I just wanted to rest for a while.

For a while lasted only a moment, because soon, I heard my sisters panicked voice. "Y/N!" she shouted, and I turned my head so fast I thought my neck might snap.

"Tsireya! What is it?" I stood up quickly. Behind her followed the middle Sully children, Kiri and Lo'ak. All three looked panicked.

"It is Neteyam!" Lo'ak exclaimed.

Neteyam? The hunt! He'd been on a hunt with the other men! All day, something had been gnawing at my stomach, blooming an anxiety that I could not explain, and now it was all coming to light.

I was worried about Neteyam, the lazy moron.

"Is he hurt?" I asked, grabbing Lo'ak's upper arm.

He nodded, a grave look on his face. "He's in our pod. Come."

Before they could turn, I ran between them and past them, heading right to where I knew I would find Neteyam. My feet could not carry me over the water fast enough, my hair flew behind me, my tail whipping in the wind, as I weaved my way through the pods until I found his home.

What if Neteyam was dead? The thought made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was the worst thing I could imagine.

Ewya, how long had I been in love with him without realizing?

I rounded the last corner and saw his mother standing at the entrance of their pod. She turned her eyes to me as I approached her, panting and panicked.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"Ah!' she tsk'd, throwing her arms in the air. "What has my son done now?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. "He's... he's hurt?"

She looked behind her shoulder, into their pod. "No..."

I turned myself to look, and there he stood. Tall, strong, a little dirty but unharmed. His eyes were wide as he stared at me. He stood across from his father, exchanging tools.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, scowling.

I approached him quickly, walking past Jakesully, and examined him from head to toe, circling him, picking up his tail, making sure every inch of him was unharmed.

"Your brother, and sister, and my sister, they told me you were gravely injured in the hunt," I replied, hissing through my teeth. "I see now that they tricked me."

Coming face to face with Neteyam, I let out a deep exhale.

The annoyance on his face faded into something like confusion. "You... came to see if I was okay?"

I rubbed my forehead and sighed. "Yes."

His father slipped away, hardly noticed by either of us, joining his mother outside the pod; the two walked away quietly.

"Y/N," Neteyam said, and his voice was softer than I'd ever heard it.

Processing my thoughts and emotions in the moment was almost impossible. Going from the terrifying panic of thinking Neteyam was okay, to the complete relief that he was fine, and the realization that I did not hate him at all... in fact, I loved him... it was all clouded by fury towards our siblings at their trick.

I wanted to grab them by their throats, and I wanted to kiss Neteyam at the same time.

Finally, I met his eyes with mine. "I am glad you are not hurt. I apologize for intruding."

He stepped closer, until there was almost no space between us. If he had been this close to me this morning, I would have shoved him away - hard. But now, it was not close enough.

How much a trick can change things.

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his slim torso and pulled him to me, closing the gap. My head rested perfectly on his chest, and he hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around me.

I took deep breaths, in and out, trying to calm myself down, but it was hard when we were close like this.

After a very long, peaceful moment, I stepped back a few inches and looked into Neteyam's eyes.

"I don't hate you. Not really."

He smiled. A big, wide smile, that I'd only seen him give to his family before. It filled me with pride, being the one to make him smile like that now.

"I don't hate you, either."

His fingers brushed underneath my chin, tilting my head back, and he swiftly and softly brushed his lips across mine, just once before pulling away.

My grin stretched ear to ear to match his.

"I might even like you. A little." I felt shy as I said it, and tried to look away, but Neteyam pulled my gaze back to his.

"A little? I have never seen such a panic, Y/N. No one has ever been so worried for me, outside my family. It was a cruel trick by our siblings, but maybe it was a good thing."

A blush crept across my cheeks. "Maybe."

---

Neteyam's chest was going to burst, seeing this woman blushing in his arms.

Since the moment he'd seen her, he had loved her - and thought she hated him, so he tried to hate her too, all the while dreaming of calling her his.

He didn't know whether he wanted to kiss or kill Lo'ak for his trick on Y/N today. He hated that she'd been caused such distress, but they might never have realized how they felt without it.

Speaking of... he heard whispering and giggling outside of the tent.

"I hear you," Neteyam called, and Y/N turned her head to the entrance of the pod. To his pleasant surprise, she stayed in his arms as Tuk, Lo'ak, Kiri and Tsiyera appeared in the doorway.

"We were just so tired of hearing you talk about how much you hate each other," Lo'ak said with a cheeky grin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, and Neteyam squeezed her shoulder. "And do you think we will speak of each other less, now?" she asked.

Tuk giggled, and Kiri rolled her eyes. It was clear they hadn't considered how annoying it might be to spend their time around two young lovers.

"Whatever," Lo'ak replied dismissively, "you're welcome!"

Neteyam threw the nearest object, one of Tuk's loin cloths, in his direction as they scurried away.

He turned back to Y/N, still nestled safely in his arms.

"I will never thank them," she said fiercely, her brows knitted together and lips pursed.

"Me either," Neteyam replied, pressing a kiss to her temple.

They had both begrudgingly thanked their siblings by the next sunset.

[vodika-vibes]

Midday Blooms - Dandelions

So, while I was considering what to do with this, I realized that I could do a series of snippets, based in this AU, with various different ships. So this is the start of Rex x OC. tagging: @starrrgazingbunny

Dandelions

Coruscant, Lower Level

Abandoned Czerka Warehouse

“Someday, Rune,” Grandmother Angel whispered in a hoarse voice, “Someday the people will return from the Station, and Coruscant will flourish. Like it did in the past!”

“So you keep saying, grandma, but they abandoned Coruscant when you were still a little girl,” Rune pointed out, as she carefully poured her grandmother a cup of hot water, and flavored it with some dandelion petals. “It seems to me that they’re never really going to come back.”

Her grandmother places a gentle hand on her head, “They still fight, Rune. You’ve seen the men.”

Right. The men.

Large men in protective armor fighting the Sith Aberrations that call Coruscant home. Large men who trampled gardens and flower beds like it was their right. How many pounds of food had been destroyed because the Soldiers from the space station decided that their gardens were a threat.

“If they really wanted to help, Grandmother, you would think that they’d stop destroying our food.”

Grandmother reached down and took Rune’s hand, “I can understand why they do, darling. They’re trying to starve out the Sith.”

“But it’s not the sith they’re starving, grandmother.” Rune pointed.

“They’re not starving us either. Not anymore.”

Rune made a face, she supposed that her grandmother had a point. Since they moved to the lower levels, and started hiding their gardens indoors, the Soldiers from Space haven’t been able to destroy their gardens.

“Now, enough of this sulking, darling.” Grandmother flashed a bright smile, and she lightly patted Rune’s cheek, “You said last night that you and Habit were going to see if you can salvage anything from the old tanks?”

“Yeah,” Rune pulled away and used an old cloth to pull her hair into a messy tail, “he thinks we might be able to make our own water filter. I saw the schematics he found, and it seems legit. Legit enough that I’m willing to try.”

Rune couldn’t overstate how much of a boon having a working water filter would be for the people living in the lower levels, and the much larger population that had been forced to relocate to the Works. It meant no more fighting Sith spawn for water. It meant less infections. 

Grandmother frowned, “Just be careful, dear. The newest deployment from the Space Station landed last week, and the fighting is still going strong.”

“I know, Grandmother.” Rune smiled at her, “I’ll be okay.” She grabbed her pistols, weapons that had been ancient twenty years ago and could now be considered antiques, and strapped them to her legs. “Atom and Bliss will take care of you until I get back,” She said, mentioning her younger siblings.

“Oh, lovely.”

Rune smiled and slipped out from under the cloth that separated her home from the rest of the “homes” in the Old Czerka building. There were over 200 families living there.

And in the Works, there were, at least, another 1000 families. Though Rune was fairly sure that there were more. It wasn’t like anyone bothered to count the people who were left behind.

“There you are!” Rune glanced around for a moment, and then she smiled when she saw her friend hurrying over to her.

Habit was a twi'lek, with dark blue skin, and was covered in black tattoos. He claimed that the more Sith like he looked, the less likely the Sith Monsters would look at him.

Rune privately thought that he just wanted to get under his mother’s skin. “Am I late?” She asked, her gaze flicking up to the chrono in the center of the warehouse.

“Nah, I was super early.” Habit admitted, “Mother didn’t want to let me do this. She said I should stay home and watch over the younger kids. I had Rider do it instead.”

Rune squinted, Rider, she knew, had a nasty spice addiction and wasn’t actually allowed near her younger siblings. “By herself?” She asked.

“No. I told Griffon to help her.” Habit grinned, “I’m not that irresponsible, Ru. Come on.”

He absolutely was.

Still, Rune rolled her eyes dramatically, “Fine. Fine. Are we taking the lift to the old Senate Quarter?”

Habit was already shaking his head, “You haven’t heard? The Senate Quarter is overrun by aberrations right now. They’ll clear up in the couple of days, but we’ll be safer taking the lift from the Works to the Old Justicar sector.”

Rune hummed thoughtfully, mentally running through the map of the Works in her mind, and then she frowned, “I thought the fighting in the Justicar restarted last month.”

“They’ve moved to the old Duros sectors,” Habit reminded, before he glanced at a map under the chrono, “Oh, wait…the fighting has moved to the Nikto sector now.”

“If we stick to the Works, we can bypass the Justicar, Duros, and Nikto sectors,” Rune pointed out thoughtfully, “See, some of the old tunnels lead right to where the red-light sector used to be.”

Habit sucked his teeth for a moment, “Risky. The further away from the population center we get, the more likely we are to run into droids…or sith monsters. But…” He glanced at the map as well, “There haven’t been any reported sightings…”

“And it goes right through the gardens.” Rune said cheerfully.

Habit scoffed, “You just want to collect Dandelions.”

Rune stuck her tongue out at him, but didn’t bother to try and refute him. 

He stared at the map for a moment, and then he sighed deeply, “Fine! You win! We’ll go and collect your dandelions as well as the parts we need!”

“Yes!”

Habit shook his head with a fond laugh, “You and your flowers. Come on, before it gets dark.”

**********

Captain Rex of the 501st had a list of a great many things that he liked. 

Spending an excessive amount of time on Coruscant was not one of those things. Still, it was only three months, so he would tolerate it.

But he was going to bitch about it in the privacy of his own mind at the same time.

He eyed the sky, and made a face, though it was hidden behind his helmet. Coruscant was such a dreary planet. Why the people on the Station wanted to come back here was beyond him.

“Alright there, Captain?” High General Obi-Wan Kenobi asked as he walked over, with Commander Cody on his heels. 

“Yes sir, just wondering if it’s going to rain.” Rex replied, turning his attention away from the miserable planet and onto the task at hand.

“Probably,” General Kenobi said with a sigh as he glanced at the sky as well, “The Climate Controls are either under sith control, or have been completely destroyed at this point.” He shook his head. “It’s a shame, really.”

“Sir, Captain Rex’s mission?” Commander Cody prodded, getting them back on track before they could get anymore distracted. 

“Oh, yes.” General Kenobi smiled, he looked tired, but then they were hunting General Sky-...Darth Vader. “You and a squad of men are going to enter through the old Red Light District, and try to get to the Senate that way.”

Rex frowned, “We can’t go any other way?”

“There are some sort of Sith creatures blocking the way to the old Senate,” Cody informed, “We feel that this route is safer.”

“Alright. I’ll bring Jesse, Fives, and Echo.” Anymore and he ran the risk of attracting unwanted attention. Obviously Cody agreed, since he nodded once Rex gave him the names.

“I’ll let them know.” General Kenobi said, turning to walk away, before he paused, “Ah…one last thing. If you run into any Sith, you do not have permission to engage, do you understand Captain?”

“Yes sir.”

Obi-Wan nodded one more time, and walked away. Cody clasped Rex by the shoulder, and then walked after his General. They, no doubt, had a much harder job than he did.

He didn’t envy them in the slightest. 

Rex released a quiet exhale, and then turned back to his gear. He better make sure that he’s prepared for anything that might happen.

An hour later, he drops down the opening that leads to the Red Light Sector, Jesse, Fives, and Echo on his heels. 

Like every other sector of Coruscant, the Red Light sector was abandoned, though there was evidence that there had been vod’e there recently. Discarded weapons, broken pieces of armor, a whole tank that had been too damaged to try and salvage.

But there were other signs too.

Small footprints in dirt, small in the sense that they probably belonged to a woman, or a teenage boy. A broken necklace, well cared for and clean. A jacket, well worn, but recently torn to shreds. 

Fives picked up the jacket, and held it on one finger, “There aren’t any people living on Coruscant, right?”

“Intel says that the only people still living on Coruscant are Sith.” Rex confirmed, as he eyed the jacket. “Be on guard, we might not be alone.”

“Copy that,” The four men slid into formation, and started moving a lot slower. No need to run the risk of injury, after all.

They continued their slow procession forward, and they were almost out of the Red Light District when there was a clatter.

The four men whipped around and aimed their rifles in the direction the noise came from.

“Come on out, we know you’re there!” Rex called.

There was silence for a long moment, and Rex was about to send Fives and Jesse forward, when there was a curse. “Okay! Okay. I’m coming out. Just. Don’t shoot me.”

A door cracked open, and then pushed open with a little more force, and a young woman poked her head out.

She was young, early twenties at her latest, with dark hair held out of her eyes with a cloth that had probably been white at one point. Her clothes were much the same, clean, but looked old and well worn.

“I thought people didn’t live on Coruscant,” Jesse asked, though he kept his rifle directed at the young woman.

“So did I,” Rex answered.

They watched as the young woman wiggled out of the building, and allowed the door to quietly shut behind her. She looked anxious, but her gaze seemed to dart to the ceiling, and to the dark spaces around them, as if searching for something.

“Who are you? How did you get to Coruscant?” Echo asked, after getting a nod from Rex.

She looked offended, “How did I-? I was born here!”

That-

Rex lowered his rifle, and he really looked at her. She was clearly not a Sith, hell she had a bunch of dandelions poking out of her pants pockets. “No one lives on Coruscant.” He said, but now he wasn’t so sure.

She lifted her chin, “Yeah? The Stationers tell you that?”

Rex’s heart sank into his stomach, “People were left behind.” It wasn’t a question, though maybe it should have been.

“Oh yeah. Lots of us.” Her lips curled, “We didn’t run.”

Rex’s mind ran through the prior years of the war. Of food stockpiles getting burned, and he sighed softly, and reached up to pull off his helmet, “We burned your food.”

She stared at him, oddly, like she hadn’t expected him to look like him. Rex was kind of worried about what the people on Coruscant thought of him and his brothers, “Yeah, you did.”

“My name is Rex. These are my brothers, Jesse, Fives, and Echo.” They removed their helmets as well, and her gaze darted from face to face, suspicion and surprise warring with each other. “What’s your name?”

*****************

“What’s your name?”

Rune hadn’t expected the soldiers to be men. It made it a lot harder to hate them. Especially since they had Coruscanti like names.

“...I’m Rune.” She said, her gaze locked on the blonde man’s face, as he seemed to be the leader, “You’re not supposed to be down here. The fighting is happening in the Nikto sector.”

“We’re trying to get to the old senate,” Jesse said.

Rune made a face, “There are less painful ways to kill yourself, you know.” She said, as she folded her arms awkwardly over her stomach.

They looked surprised, “No,” Echo said slowly, “We’re trying to get into the Old Senate Building,” He clarified.

“No one goes into the Old Senate Building,” Rune said slowly, as if she were talking to children, “Ever.”

“Then where are the Sith?” Jesse asked.

“Not in the Senate Building.” Rune countered, “We think they’re set up in the old Jedi Temple, but, again, no one goes there. It’s not safe. If there aren’t aberrations, then it’s droids.”

“Fuck,” Rex ran his hand over his head, “So, what are you doing down here.”

“Salvaging. I am trying to make a water purifier so we don’t have to fight aberrations for clean water.” Rune said, “The parts on the tanks you leave behind can help with that.”

“That’s why it looked like there was recent activity around the tank,” Fives murmured.

“Thought you were aberrations,” Rune admitted with a shrug. With any luck, Habit was already back at the Czerka building. If she had any good luck, they would let her go soon.

“What do we do, Captain?” Echo asked.

Rex stared at her, and Rune shifted uncomfortably. And then Rex sighed, “I’m sorry about this, but you need to come with us.”

“What? Why?” Rune asked, her eyes wide.

“You need to talk to our General.” Rex said, “You know more about the planet than we do, at least. And the Sith.”

“...do I have a choice?”

“I’m afraid not.” Rex genuinely sounded apologetic, “Will you come with us willingly, or do we need to use binders?”

She scowled, unhappy, “I’ll come. But I’m not leaving Coruscant.”

Rune allowed them to guide her out of the Red Light District, and to a speeder, which they then piloted to a massive ship. Rex dismissed his brothers, and instead guided her himself from there.

She had seen the Stationer Ships before, but hadn’t realized how large they were until she was being directed over to the ship. And, more specifically, over to a soldier wearing orange and a man wearing distinctly Jedi robes.

“Captain, welcome bac-” The jedi paused, mid sentence, and stared at Rune, and then over to Rex, with a questioning look.

“This is Rune. She lives on Coruscant.” Rex offered.

“I wasn’t aware that there were any people left on Coruscant,” The Jedi offered lightly.

“Why not, it’s not like the Jedi came back for us when you ran away.” Rune said flatly. “Or did you really think that the rich and powerful of Coruscant were going to evacuate the poor for nothing?”

He looked surprised, and then guilty. “Are there many of you?”

“Of course there are.” Rune replied.

“We can call for another ship, and start the evacuation process-” The Jedi said quietly.

“We’re not leaving.” Rune interrupted.

This time everyone looked surprised, “Rune. Coruscant is a warzone.” Rex said.

“Coruscant has been a warzone for generations. We stayed and so we’re going to stay.” Rune said flatly. “We’ve managed to survive and we will continue to do so.” She shifted her weight, “Can I go home now?”

“Wait, Miss Rune-” The Jedi said, a small smile crossing his face when she scrunched up her face, “We’re trying to get into the Senate building-”

Rune sighed, deeply, “I’ll tell you what I told him. You can’t. It was where whatshisface did his sith alchemy. No one goes in. If you’re looking for the Sith, I would start in the old Jedi temple.”

“The old Jedi-...” The Jedi looked down at the map, “Yes. Yes, of course. That makes sense.”

“Can I go now?” Rune repeated.

“What? Oh, yes. Yes. Of course. Rex, will you escort her home?”

“Of course General.”

**************

Whatever Rex had been expecting of Rune’s home, it wasn’t this. 

He expected gloom, and dirty. Something depressing to look at, let alone live in.

And yet-

There were plants everywhere. Gardens on every corner filled with different types of crops, and massive gardens filled with a wide variety of flowers. 

The people were healthy, clearly healthy. And there were dozens of children, of all races, who chased after Rex as he walked through the clearly marked streets.

“Not what you were expecting?” Rune asked, as she handed a bundle of dandelions to a girl who looked remarkably like her.

“No. Not at all,” Rex looked around, “This is…I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Everything we grow has a use.” Rune offered, “Most of the garden plots are for food, though anything that has flowers is generally medicinal. And in the Works we managed to create a fish farm. It’s how we keep the obligate carnivores healthy.” She added, as she nodded to a family of Togruta.

��...where’d the Dandelions come from?” Rex asked, noting that she still had one of them in her pocket.

“They grow between some of the sectors,” Rune explained, she twisted the flower between her hands, “They’re my favorite.”

“Why?”

“Well. They remind me of me, of my people.” Rune smiled at the flower, “We endure, even if no one wants us to.”

Rex was quiet for a moment, his mind going to stark white halls, and harsh training, “I can understand that.”

Rune regards him quietly for a moment, and then she smiles, and she steps into his personal space, and carefully attaches the flower to his chest piece. “There.”

“You’re giving me your flower?”

“Like me, Rex, you have the soul of a weed.”

Rex blinked at her, touched. That might be the sweetest thing a woman had ever said to him.

And then she smiled at him, her face slightly pink, “You can’t stay here, this isn’t your world. But it would be cool if you visited every now and then?”

Rex stared at her, speechless for a moment, and then he ducks his head, shyly, “Well. Us weeds have to stick together, right?”

She grinned at him, “Absolutely.”

When Rex left half an hour later, he had a bag full of fresh fruit, a dandelion attached to his chest plate, and a piece of flimsy with Rune’s comm address on it.

[littlejuicebox]

Hello Gina! Been loving your stories a lot specially Astarion talks in his sleep and My Sun, My Moon 1&2! which is why I wanna try if you can do a one shot of their 1st anniversary of marriage! 🤭 just wondering how it was for them, usually they say the 1st year is the toughest one but i wanna see how you see it 🤭 Many thanks!! i look forward to more stories!

Hello, my friend! <3

I really love this prompt! Marriage is hard and Astarion has his quirks that would def make him frustrating to Tav! Love isn't always sunshine and rainbows.

I took this in a slightly different direction, it's a reflection on their first major argument! Hope you like it. <3

Warnings/Tags: not edited or beta read / In-game spoilers, fluff/angst w comfort / married people having an argument / this follows my HC fics for redemption Astarion x Tav but I'm pretty sure it can be read as a OneShot

Word Count: 1.7K

-----

Astarion cannot concentrate on the blasted contract in front of him any longer. The delivery should have been here by now.

He only had a few hours before you returned from the Upper City and his entire plan for your first anniversary would be shot if the florists didn’t hurry the hells up.

“You said they would arrive by midday and now it’s nearly teatime, Pascal!” Astarion snaps at his steward, a middle-aged human with wide set eyes and a scar running horizontally along his nose bridge.

Pascal sits on the far end of Astarion’s office, reviewing a ledger. He slowly raises his eyes from the document to meet the petulant visage of his employer.

“That is what the florist told me, my Lord. But it is quite a large order. Fifty night-blooming plants and shrubs would likely take several carts, sir. It’s certainly possible they’ve run into delays along the way.” Pascal responds, his voice gentle but unbothered, as if he’s grown used to placating the moods of the vampire over the past year.

Astarion simply huffs in response, “We did not pay a premium for those ingrates to simply—“

He stops as his highly acute hearing catches the sound of wheels turning along the manor’s pebbled drive. By the raucous sound of it, there are several wagons making their way towards the home's entrance.

“Pascal, they're here. I will go greet them; round up the other servants and have them stop what they’re doing immediately. We will need all hands to make up for lost time.” Astarion says as he tosses the contract he’d been reviewing, leaving it with a large stack of papers scattered across his desk.

Several of those papers had the remnants of ink splotches and blood splatters from an hours-long drafting session he’d done on a business proposal the day prior. The goblet he'd been drinking from yesterday, dirtied with now-dried blood, sits haphazardly in the corner of the desk.

Astarion struggled to contain his natural propensity toward sloppiness. His mind often worked far too quickly for him to slow down and pay attention to trivial things like bloodstains and spilled ink.

However, after multiple gentle chastisements and one angry explosion from you, he’d managed to curb his disorganization to his office, which you accepted. The argument you two had, prior to coming to this arrangement, had truly terrified him.

The pale elf makes sure to grab the goblet and place it out in the foyer for the maid to grab; she had never been allowed to enter the master bedchambers or his office, for privacy. You two were responsible for keeping those areas tidy. Astarion did... almost nothing to his office, while you kept everything pristine in the bedroom.

Except for that one time before the argument. His mind wanders as he exits the office, reflecting on the memory that keeps him cleaning up his goblets.

-----

He could tell by your voice alone that you were angry. Furious, in fact. The sound ripped him away from the contractor agreement he'd been reviewing.

“Astarion! How many times do I have to ask you to not leave cups of blood in the bedchambers!” Your voice came booming down the hallway before you burst into the office, causing the door to slam into the wall with a loud thud. His eyes caught sight of the angry red splotches on your face, and then trailed down to your wedding dress, clutched in your shaking hand.

There was a large, crimson bloodstain smattered along the train. He almost fainted at the sight.

So many hours of his own work. Drenched in blood.

“I’d laid this out for the servants to frame today, and Scratch ran into the bedroom and knocked the goblet of blood — that you left there, completely full, by the way — off your nightstand and onto the dress!” You were waving the grown vehemently as you spoke, voice cracking toward the end.

Oh, his little love was infuriated. His gut sank at the thought.

The anger in your voice sounded entirely foreign, it was rare for you to speak in such a manner to anyone. But towards him? Never. You always spoke to him in soft, adoring tones and little whispers. The only time you truly raised your voice had been in bed, and he rather liked it then.

But this? He did not like this one bit. It made his undead heart thrum with anxiety.

“My love, I—“ He begins, his voice honeyed and smooth in the usual tone he used to appease you, but you cut him off.

“I’m sick of your excuses and your words, Astarion! I’m sick of cleaning up after you! I have asked you more than once to not bring blood into the bedroom and you've deliberately ignored me. And the one time I don’t remove the damned goblet from the bedchamber look what happened! I can’t keep—“

You were crying by then. Large, angry tears rolling in streams down your face as you swiped angrily at your eyes. That dress, and the hours of work he'd put into it, had been a testimony of his love to you. His actions had made your heart soar; seeing the gown ruined caused your heart to break entirely.

And Astarion's heart almost broke at the sight of his little love so distraught, but he had no words nor actions to soothe you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath; he watched as the patches of red faded from your cheeks. When you opened them, the sight scared him and when you spoke, he was terrified.

Your face was blank, unreadable. Your tone was resigned. In that moment, in the absence of any discernible emotion, he felt certain you were going to leave him.

Eight months into a marriage and he was already failing; he knew he hadn't been cut out for this.

“I am very patient with you, Astarion. We both knew this wouldn’t be easy… with well, everything. Your condition, navigating my newfound fame, easing back into normalcy when we both have our baggage... but I chose this. I chose you. I choose you every day. Over and over. A hundred times a day."

You paused, and your eyes flicked between his, searching for something.

“I just wish I felt like you were still choosing me, too.”

And then you were gone. You left the dress crumpled on the floor as you turned and walked away.

As he moved from his desk to pick the garment up from the ground, he heard you call for Scratch and exit the front door. The sun was out, he couldn't follow you. And even if he did, there would be nothing he could say to placate you. He needed to give you time and space and wait for you to come to him; it was something he’d learned over the past eight months. Although he hated it.

So, he stayed in his office, trying to work, and failing at that, too.

After a few more hours, it was time to head to bed. When he entered your shared bedroom, he realized the goblet you'd spoken about had splattered over the sheets and onto the carpet, as well. He removed the goblet from the bedroom and placed it in the foyer; and then he changed the sheets, which you usually did. He waited for you to come to bed, but you never showed. Hadn’t he given you enough time by now?

Eventually he traveled to the guest chambers, certain you must be there sulking, and when he attempted to enter the room, the door was locked. He knocked tentatively on the door.

"Tav, darling--"

"No. And don't you dare pick the lock, Astarion."

"Tav, my sweet, please--"

"Please, Astarion. Please just leave me alone."

He wanted to pick the lock. Wanted to break down the door. Wanted to hold you in his arms and whisper apologies in your ear until you forgave him. But you always told him that his actions spoke louder than his words; honeyed lamentations would not work on you. Another thing he’d learned this past eight months.

And then he thought of the dress, which he'd left draped across the sofa in his office.

While you slept, Astarion set to work. He could have outsourced the task, sure... but truthfully, he did not trust anyone else with the fine detailing work he had spent several hours doing with his own hands. He'd created the masterpiece himself, after all, so perhaps it was best he restores it himself.

He worked gently, and for several hours, scrubbing the blood out of the fine fabric. His time with Cazador had taught him many things, and unfortunately a skill he used more often than he liked happened to be removing bloodstains from nearly any fabric.

By the time the gown was restored, his hands were raw from hours immersed in the harsh combination of soaps, chemicals, and water. It was past noon when he finished; you had certainly risen by now, but you hadn't come looking for him.

Astarion asked Pascal to place the gown in the sunroom to dry and then resigned himself to his office, back to reviewing contracts.

It was several hours later when you knocked on the office door, eyes downcast and face remorseful.

He didn't say anything, he just simply opened his arms and you crossed into the office before folding yourself in his lap. A few moments of quiet passed between you.

"I saw what you did to the dress. It must have taken hours... thank you." You finally whispered as your face nestled into the side of his neck. Your hot breath tickled, and he hummed in acknowledgement.

"It did, darling. And the skin on my hands certainly is not happy about it," He starts, and your hand comes to his as you bring it closer to your face, examining the uncharacteristically cracked knuckles and reddened flesh, "But you are worth the effort. And more. I'm sorry about the cups, my love.”

You placed a kiss on his chapped knuckle. An acceptance of the apology. And then you turned to face him and pressed a soft, tentative peck on his lips that made his entire body melt into you. Before long you two wound up on the floor of his office, and he made sure to use his actions to ensure you knew just how much he cared about you. How much he chose you.

And every day since then, he'd been certain to no longer bring goblets in the bedroom, and always leave them sitting in the foyer for the maid regardless of what room he was in. A tiny daily action signifying his love for you.

[acourtofquietdreamers]

✨Elriel moments: love languages edition✨

Acts of service:

He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door. Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face. Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breadth of his shoulders. The wings peeking over them. But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once.

“Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went.”

But I strode to my seat—nestled between Amren and Mor—in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.” Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. Mor tensed beside me. But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.” Elain’s hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them.

Words of Affirmation:

Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly?” He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” “That’s very beautiful,” she said.

Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.”

Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. The runes on the dark scabbard. “It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.”

Quality Time:

“Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.”

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea

Gift Giving:

“Az, this one’s for you.” The shadowsinger’s brows lifted, but his scarred hand extended to take the present. Elain turned from where she’d been speaking to Nesta. “Oh, that’s from me.” Azriel’s face didn’t so much as shift at the words. Not even a smile as he opened the present and revealed—“I had Madja make it for me,” Elain explained. Azriel’s brows narrowed at the mention of the family’s preferred healer. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” Silence. Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

She extended the wrapped gift, her hand shaking. "Here." … Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days, and then opened the lid. Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you..." He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse.

He pulled the small velvet box from the shadows around him. Opened it for her. Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They'd always been prone to vanish when she was around. The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

Physical Touch:

Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, “We need Helion to get these chains off her.” Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger’s cheek.

He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp. Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.

Based on these, I think Elain mostly shows love with gift giving/words of affirmation while Azriel is acts of service/quality time. I’m sure they both love physical touch coming from the right person 😉

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

In A Week's Time: Elliott x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Soft sex, creampies

Summer. A scorching summer season had settled amongst the valley. Where others saw a reason to just flock to the beach and wade in the oceans or to take advantage of the museum’s better quality air conditioner, you had been excited for this season to make profits. Sure, you had made a good profit off of spring’s fresh crops what of strawberries and parsnips and bulbs of garlic all in a row; it was summer you were waiting for as well as many other farmers around. You could just imagine your crop fields full of patches of blueberries and of melons, peach and orange trees in full bloom as well as stalks of hops to keep the kegs full of aging beer (and let’s not get started about the starfruit patches to which you’ll be turning into wine by the end of their respected harvest).

You were out of bed before Elliott - which was rare as he’s used to waking with the gulls cawing horribly before the sun even rises over the ocean’s shore. The writer’s eyes prying open to see you already out the door, flowing auburn hair a mess against the soft pillow covers, sticking to his chiseled face as he watched on in confusion as you bolted out of the front door. He squinted, grumbling something under his breath about how eager you were and quickly followed behind you.

The early summer morning breeze was cool, crisp, inviting as you overlooked the expanse of your farm from your porch. The sun barely peeking over the trees of the forest bordering the outskirts of the farm, bits of orange rays poking through, and twinkling off of the iridium sprinklers littered around, scarecrows still standing tall, protecting the now empty fields of dead spring crops.

The front door opened behind you, you peered over your shoulder to see your beloved husband standing there, squinting as the sun slowly rises over the horizon and spill into the farm. You always loved how squinty-eyed he was when he wakes, hair tied back. He was always so handsome, even when he had just woken up. You giggled, remembering how he had woken up when the spring had started and you had woken early to start planting the usual plots of strawberries, parsnips, and beans. The poor man had his shirt on backwards and nearly had his shoes on the wrong feet before you helped correct him. It was always so sweet of him to wake up early with you every crop season to help you clear and plant and water with you.

“My darling?” he mumbled behind you.

“It’s summer, Elliott! Time for the biggest harvests of the year!” you proclaimed, puffing your chest out proudly.

“I’ll make coffee,” he nodded, leaving the front door open to allow your cat to slip outside and happily trot towards the barn and coop towards the south exit of your farm that leads to Marnie’s ranch.

Around midday, you had retired back to the house where Elliott was waiting, radiating with excitement. He had just come back two hours ago from Pierre’s store with many bags of seeds roped around his hands and wrists for you to start sowing. You climbed the stairs and overlooked the expanse of your farm with your husband. You both took in the tilled dirt ready to be watered after lunch. You were both excited to slowly be able to see the dull beige and browns and ochres of the farm’s soil to slowly bloom vibrant greens and pinks and blues and yellows of fresh vegetation by the end of the season.

“Tired, my darling?” he stepped inside, allowing you to pass into your home.

“Not yet,” you hummed.

“Good! I have wonderful news I’d love for you to hear,” he chimed.

“Oh? And what would that be, Elliott?”

Leading you towards the kitchen, you noticed a large, square vanilla envelope bent in a slight curve. A glass mixing bowl sat a little ways away, most likely used to press out the envelope. It was opened, the obvious tear towards the top of the envelope, the contents gently pushed back inside. What looked to be a single sheet of paper was inside.

“Do you remember the genre of book you’ve inspired me to write, my love?” Elliott hummed.

You could remember that day clearly. Nearly two seasons had passed, the end of the scorching summer was settled on the land, the valley preparing for fall. The weather had cooled just a tad, but it was enough to warrant you a trip down to the beach for a dip in the ocean. Your crops were all done for the season, every last bundle of blueberries plucked, every melon uprooted, hot peppers and tomatoes picked from every patch you had planted. You were done for the rest of the season when it had come to the farm.

But as soon as you arrived at the beach, you had immediately lost all focus upon seeing Elliott’s cabin. You had been meaning to visit, and before you could even realize it, you were knocking at his front door. The poet was surprised to see you, emerald green eyes widening in pure delight at the sight of a new visitor.

Auburn hair tied back by a vibrant green ribbon, delicate locks not long enough framed his face nicely. Sharp jawline freshly shaved, not a single hair missed nor a single blemish on his healthy tanned skin. A loose white button-up long sleeve shirt sat unbuttoned a bit on the top. His shirt had been tucked into a pair of loose black slacks. If you hadn’t been blushing at the sight of a man as handsome as Elliott, you would’ve questioned him on why he decided to dress like a pirate.

Instead, he had roped you into an elegant conversation, allowing you to step into his cabin. Enchanted with his delicate words, you soon found yourself staring at him as he looked at you, groomed dark brows pulled up slightly as he waited for your answer.

He smirked as you shook your head slightly, clearing the fog from your mind as you suddenly found yourself in an embarrassing position.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Elliott simply chuckled softly. His silky voice filled your ears before he glanced back at you, a smile still tugging on his chiseled lips. Yoba, they looked so soft.

“It’s this awful heat. I find myself losing my words too. I was asking you your favorite genre to read.”

“Oh!” You felt your stomach tighten into even tighter knots. “I… Romance I guess. I haven’t really had a lot of time to sit down and read something proper like an actual book. Maybe a news article on my phone or something but…”

“Romance? Ah, a classic form of literature! I find myself sinking into romantic novels myself, especially during a storm.”

“Romance,” you hummed.

He pulled the single piece of thick paper from the envelope, still a little curved from its time spent in the mailbox since early this morning.

“It’s a very short notice for such big news, but I’ve been invited to do a reading tour for the book you’ve inspired me to write.”

He handed you the piece of paper.

It was from his publisher, a full schedule on the bottom of the short notice. Every day was packed with readings to signings and meetups, all scheduled for one week.

Next week.

“You’re leaving Saturday,” you noted the date stamped at the very bottom, the following Sunday being his return.

“I am. But only for one week, my radiance.” He paused for a moment, you looked up at him with wide eyes full of excitement. “Will you be alright? I’ll be gone for one week and it’s already the start of a new crop season for us-”

“Go on it! This is what you’ve wanted, yeah? I’ll be fine!”

Elliott stared at you with slight shock, soon melting into a warm smile full of absolute love.

“I’ll be here for the rest of the week, though. I’ll still be here to help water what is not covered, help with your animals.”

You nodded and looked back down at the paper in your hands. You noticed the time to leave on Saturday is missing.

“When do you leave Saturday?”

“I believe before noon.”

Elliott produced one round-trip bus ticket from the envelope. The same company that brought you here to Pelican Town a little over two years ago.

Lo and behold, he would be leaving at ten o'clock in the morning.

Elliott plucked the schedule and ticket from your hands and placed them back on the counter. He quickly replaced the empty space between your hands, he filled them with his own. Grasping them tightly with his own, he pulled you closer to him.

His hands were strong, skin soft, fingertips scarred slightly from countless papercuts he’s given himself from binge-reading new and old books on rainy days as well as spending countless and stressful days writing, editing, and rereading his work that he’ll now read to many people out there in the world. You loved how nice his hands felt, warm, but not too warm to make your hands overheat. His hands were bigger than yours, enveloping them with their strong warmth as he pulled you closer until you both were pressed flush up against each other.

You caught whiffs of him. You always loved how Elliott smelled, from his shampoo and conditioner to the subtle hints of his aftershave and cologne. Pomegranate was the main node you would get (it was really the fruit that had started your acquaintance with him when he asked if you grew them on the farm) but he would also always smell somewhat like the sea. Sea salt in the ocean breeze, fresh and alive, and inviting like the ocean on a hot summer’s day.

And looking at your husband before you, you could feel your body heat up even more. His hands slowly rising in temperature, slowly roasting your fingers and palms still a little cool from handling your iridium hoe. You swore you could feel little tingles sparking between the minute gaps between your fingers and palms, fireworks, explosions of nerves edging you both further and further closer to the end of the cliff until-

You both suddenly found yourselves suddenly tangled in each other’s limbs. Bodies pressed flush up against each other, no room between your persons. Your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, stomachs with no gaps between, legs struggling to stand up properly and support each other.

Your hands snatched at the collar of Elliott’s button-up, crisp and clean with no wrinkles in sight now sat crumbled in your grasping hands. Your fingers flexing, suddenly releasing the collar to claw and crawl to his broad shoulders, snatching at the thin, soft material by the handful, pulling him closer if that was any more possible.

Elliott’s passion placed into his display of affections always seemed to catch you off guard. You knew Elliott was a passionate man the moment you met him, but as you grew to knew him and quickly fell for him, you learned that Elliott and romance went together like Gus and any event where he’s able to serve the town. Elliott always made you feel loved, always made you feel beautiful. He may look like he belongs on the front of a romance novel cover with his god-like appearance, but damn it all if he doesn’t know how to absolutely ravish you as the books would suggest.

One of Elliott’s strong hands had come to the back of your head, agile fingers gently grasping at the back of your head, fingers wrapped around your locks, locking your heads together. The other went around to behind your shoulders. He grabbed at the back of your shirt, a fistful of cloth fabric teasing him whereas he teased you with a few tugs, threatening to rip your shirt right off of your body without another thought.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he would have done that.

Elliott’s lips seemed to be made for yours. Every kiss was perfect.

Elliott softly moaned into the kiss, the swaying weight between you two nearly had your legs fumbling, nearly allowing the two of you to fall over yourselves. Elliott pulled away for just a moment, emerald green eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment, lust filling his gorgeous hues the more he looked at you, a faint pink blush dashing over his chiseled cheeks. You could feel your face heating up as well, the apples of your cheeks suddenly scorching just looking at him right here, nose to nose with your loving husband.

He had quickly pulled you into another kiss, lips tenderly pressing against yours in a passionate embrace, lulling your legs to finally be able to move towards the bedroom.

It was sloppy, your backs pressing against the walls of the short hallway connecting the living room to your shared bedroom. Elliott had you pinned to the wall at one point, your head pushed to the side, mouth open as soft mewls and moans escaping from your slick lips as Elliott sucked at the nape of your neck. His large, strong hands were squeezing your wrists, your fingers limp yet curling as you felt him pressed his clothed erection brush against your person.

You both had managed to tear yourselves from the wall, suddenly another mess of tangled arms, hands grasping in hair and snatching at clothing until Elliott’s nimble fingers had finally dipped under the bottom hem of your shirt, carefully peeling the hem up into a small curl of fabric until he could firmly grab at it with both hands. With a swift and sudden pull of his hands, you had suddenly found yourself topless in the sights of your beloved.

Flushing under his emerald gaze, Elliott had paused for a brief moment to look over your body, eyes scanning your form, lust slowly consuming his features the more he gazed at your form with fluttering eyes. Elliott hummed deep within his throat, hands coming up to cup at your shoulders. Hooking his thumbs under the straps of your bra, he delicately slid them off of the curve of your shoulders and crawled his fingers to the hooks behind your back. Your bra quickly came undone in his hands, the delicate lingerie now sliding off of your body with a tug of his agile hands and carelessly tossed over his shoulder.

The sight of your naked breasts alone was enough for Elliott to start to unravel more and more.

A coy little smirk fell upon your lips as you saw out of the corner of your eye the tenting in his pants, noting how the fabric was tightening more and more as the seconds ticked by.

“I hardly think it’s fair for you to still be dressed while you’re stripping off all of my clothes,” you pointed out.

“My dearest, I believe you’re right. How rude of me.”

Elliott had complied with your statement, but he was a little shit. Nimble fingers that had just ravaged your top and bra off of your person within just a few seconds, had plucked the top two buttons of his shirt apart at a snail’s pace; All with a devilish look in his eye as looked directly at you.

You flung yourself at him, hands grabbing the collar of his button-up and pulling his close to connect your lips once more. Elliott’s hands moved from his shirt to grip at the sides of your head firmly, sinking his fingers into the locks of your hair. Your hands fumbled down to the rest of the buttons, fingers struggling to pluck them apart one by one until you had no more to unbutton. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest and abdomen, lightly sun-kissed skin, toned generously as the lean muscle under your fingertips flexed softly at your bare touch.

Elliott shrugged his button-up off of his shoulders and tossed it aside, the hunk of material sliding against the hardwood floors.

Elliott advanced towards you, pushing you backwards until the back of your knees bumped into the lip of the bed. You stumbled back a bit, losing your balance and falling back into the mattress, your body bouncing a bit as you landed on the springy mattress. Elliott smirked, enjoying as your breasts bounced with you.

Elliott’s graceful fingers moved from your shoulders downward, fingers dancing down your body, past the curve of your breasts, and digging gently into the soft skin of your stomach until his fingers danced along the waistband of your pants. The button had suddenly slipped free and the zipper had been pulled down.

Elliott had leaned forward, you softly gasped when you felt his warm lips press gentle kisses down the center of your torso in a straight line, going from the bottom of your neck to in between the space of your breasts down to your belly button all while he had wrestled your pants out from under your rear. He worked your trousers down the length of your legs, eventually hitching them off from where they bunched up at your ankles and allowed the trousers to flop onto the floor, all while he was still trailing kisses right down your center.

He briefly looked up at you under a near curtain of auburn locks, emerald green hues amused at your heated face, wonderful lips smirking as you softly begged him to keep going.

His index fingers hooked around the delicate upper hemline of your underwear. Twisting his fingers just a bit to secure the hemline, he slowly pulled downwards, peeling your panties away from your pussy and down the length of your legs, soon joining your pants on the floor. The sight of you dripping wet, heat blooming from between your legs stirred Elliott onwards, but he remained collected; no matter how much he wished to absolutely ravage your body.

Elliott had stood up, you whined a bit as you immediately missed the feeling of his lips trailing up and down your torso, worshipping you, ravishing you with his soft kisses.

Your loving husband gripped the waistband of his own trousers and fiddled with the buckle of his leather belt. Shiny brass clicking a little at him fiddling and soon the long strip of punched leather slid out from the belt loops of his black slacks and was tossed onto your trousers pooling at his feet. You watched on in awe as he slowly dipped his hands under the waistband for just a brief second before plucking apart the button of his own pants and pulling the zipper down, revealing straining boxer-briefs.

You flushed at the outline hidden inside the confinements of his underwear. Cock straining, erect, yet tortured to be stuck into tightening underwear.

The black slacks dropped to the floor, Elliott nudging both his trousers and yours off to the side of the bed just out of the way. The matching black boxer-briefs looked awfully tight, you could only imagine the struggle Elliott was going through as he looked over your delightful form.

A few locks of auburn hair drifted out of place, some sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead while the others hung loose in his face, covering his eyes slightly. A faint blush still settled on his cheeks as he looked down at you with half-lidded eyes full of lust and desire.

“Elliott,” you cooed, your body heating up.

Your gut was coiling, heat pooling more around your pussy, your stomach feeling full of butterflies. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, feel your blood roaring with life.

You needed him inside of you now.

“My dear (Y/n), what do you need?” he purred, still eyeing you as if you were nothing else but prey.

“You,” you whimpered.

“And what do you want me to do?” he teased, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a coy smile.

“I want you to fuck me into this mattress.”

You swore you could see something snap inside of Elliott. The once calm and collected writer you called a husband seemingly snapped. You could no longer see the emerald in his eyes. The sea of lovely green now consumed by his pupils blown wide.

It was a good thing you both live on a farm, a good walking distance away from the rest of Pelican Town, otherwise, you and Elliott would be looking at many noise complaints from the rest of the town.

You watched as he snatched off his boxer-briefs, the poor man-handled fabric flung away, no longer in your line of sight.

What was in your line of sight, however, was your husband’s cock springing outwards, now free of its confinements.

You only had mere seconds to gaze at it before Elliott had pinned you to the mattress, the man hovering over you, hands pinning your shoulders to the mattress, impaling you with his cock.

A moan lodged in your throat, choking slightly as you cried out in pleasure at the tightness. Elliott gave a satisfied groan as well, broad shoulders sagging for just a mere moment to lose himself in the sea of pleasure he found himself in.

You loved how Elliott’s cock fit inside of you so perfectly, it was like to was made for you. His cock was large, thick, always stretching your tight pussy just right. Just the feeling of being stretched had you whining, clawing at the sheets by the handful. Your head rocked back into the mattress, cradled by the bunched up sheets under your head and neck. Your eyes screwed shut at the painful stretch.

Elliott moaning softly, panting against your chest. His long auburn locks had spilled across your sweaty chest, thick strands clinging to your breasts, pooling on your person for a brief moment as Elliott had dipped his head to revel in the feeling of his cock in your tight pussy.

He craned his head back up, looking down at your sweaty face, mouth wide open as you cried and mewled under him. A wild smirk spread across his lips.

He was generous enough to give you a quick second to adjust to the tight stretch before he had started to slowly piston his hips.

The back of your head curled into the sheets piled underneath you more, your throat stretching, baring more skin to him. Elliott had leaned back down again, still pistoning his hips at a slow rate to enjoy the tight feeling of your slick walls around his cock.

Your guts were knotted with lust, only wanting you to raise your hips and match him with his thrusts, meet his cock thrusting inwards with you lifting your hips up, wanting your sexes to slap together, to rock the bed and make it groan like you normally do together. You loved how wild and powerful Elliott could be in bed.

Elliott’s hands snatched at your hips, nails digging into the soft skin. You whimpered at the bite of crescent moons, loving the pain adding on to the pleasure bubbling inside of your person. Each thrust seemed to make your organs knot closer together, made the coils heat up, and tighten. Your moans only spurred him to speed up once he had given you ample time to adjust to the tightness inside of you.

Elliott had let go of your hips, favoring to trap the sides of your head by placing his hands out flat against the ruffles and rumples of the sheets now bunched under the back of your skull, careful not to snag at any of your locks. His grip on the sheets tightened, supporting him better as he rocked his hips back and forth at a great pace, pounding into you like a machine powered by pistons.

He had dipped his head down to meet your parted lips. He groaned into the cavity of your mouth, wincing and tightening his grip on the sheets as your walls had clamped down on his cock. You could hear the sheets creaking, the soft fabric stretching and compressing under the intense grip Elliott was putting it through until he had released it just a touch.

He pressed hot, open-mouth kisses all around your face. He trailed kisses along the curve of your jaw all the way back to your earlobes where he would nip and gently tug at them. He would trail a sloppy line down the curve of your neck, grazing the columns of your throat with his teeth. He definitely had produced a good amount of hickies along your neck and upper chest, so much to possibly warrant a turtleneck at the beginning of summer if you were to have made any plans of going out in public. He had even gently sunk his teeth into the soft plush of one of your breasts, enjoying the little squeaks you produced as your clawed at Elliott’s back and grabbed at his broad shoulders.

Once he had deemed he had marked you up enough, he had only continued to ramp up his pace until you suddenly choke at the speed. You gasped, feeling your passageway clamp down on him once more, your husband crying out in pleasure and tossing his head back to revel in the feelings spiking through him.

You cried out, feeling the coils inside of you tighten even more, now white-hot as the seed about to enter your womb pretty soon as your climax was fast approaching.

You caught sight of Elliott’s eyes, emerald hues still missing, lost in a sea of black. His pupils dilated, still-full blown with lust, looking as though he had captured a starless sky in his eyes.

It was hypnotic, and the thundering of your blood in your ear like war drums had only added on to the pressure building up in your core. The splitting pressure inside of you had you squeezing your eyes closed, wincing, a soft moan passing through grit teeth as a wave of painful pleasure rattled through you, only tightening the coils inside of you even more.

Elliott was unraveling as well, auburn locks falling in his face, hiding his reddened and sweaty rugged face behind the curtain of his groomed mane. His shoulders tensed, lean muscle flexing in his shoulders and biceps, veins poking against his lightly tanned skin. His thrusts had gone from fast and passionate to sporadic and sloppy, longing and yearning to finally release inside of you.

A sudden eruption of heat spilled from between your legs, a massive release of pent up pain and turned to pleasure. A lewd moan had spilled from your open mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Elliott groaned above you, riding and thrusting into your slickening pussy, only allowing him to lose himself to his gaining lust.

Your limbs suddenly felt heavy, weighed down by bones seemingly made of lead and iridium, allowing you to sink into the plush comfort of the mattress as Elliott continuously pounded into your pussy without fail. The man of many elegant words had crippled down to only guttural moans and heavy groans. He could barely make any other noises, he was too busy chasing his won climax. He huffed and puffed in your ears, shoulders shaking as he pistoned his hips back and forth like a well-oiled machine.

It had nearly been another full minute before you felt the slight twitch inside of your passageway, his cock stiffening ever so slowly in between the rushed thrusts of his hips. His thrusts were growing sloppier by the thrust, the bed groaning under the two of you as it rocked with each thrust. The two of you were a flurry of moans and lingering kisses, Elliott occasionally kissing down your jaw or sucking at your neck. Your pussy still slick with your sweet only allowed him to seemingly thrust faster inside of you, you could feel his cock twitch a bit more.

He was going to cum quickly.

His hands on either side of your head snatched at more of the rumpled bedsheets, twisting as his back arched downwards. With each thrust, there was no room left between your two persons, no air gaps between your sexes, drawing his cock nearly out of you only to slam right back into you without mercy. You swore you were drooling, trapped in the starry bliss clouding your mind, still chasing the joys of your climax as he only ravaged your pussy more and more.

The stiffer he got, the sloppier he got with his thrusts until hot milky white suddenly erupted from Elliott’s cock, the man coming with a choked shout. His shoulders curled up into his neck, head shooting back, auburn locks spilling over his broad shoulders and you milked every last drop of semen out of his cock still buried inside of you.

You cried, mewled as you felt the fullness inside of you, only to exhale as Elliott’s cock had slid right out of your passageway, his semen following quickly after to spill onto the bed.

Elliott nearly collapsed on top of your worn person, the man of elegance managing to roll himself to land right next to you. He draped one of his tanned arms over your body, the meat of his arm over your breasts so his hand could reach under your armpit, dragging you closer to his sweaty chest. You both laid there panting, hearts racing as moments ticked by, the thrill of your orgasms slowly riding down as you both looked at each other in the eye. Sweaty faces, blushed at the cheeks and noses, you both couldn’t help the small and loving smiles spreading across your faces. You both looked at each other through the messy, frizzy locks clinging to your sweaty faces. A good shower was to be put in order now, but it would have to wait.

You shivered, still feeling his hot seed spilling slowly out between your nether lips, tangling with the sheets under your person, a mess you would both clean in just a moment.

You stood there by the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive with your husband right by your side. You could tell he was nervous, he would always toy with his long locks when he was. He had even pulled his hair back and tied it to try and stop himself from fiddling with his luscious auburn locks, but he couldn’t help himself.

He was nervous, and rightfully so!

He was going to be gone for a week, reading for his adoring fans, signing autographs, meeting new and important people.

You took his hand, startling the man out of his daydream. Wide emerald eyes looking at you for a mere second before he seemingly calmed down… just a bit.

“You’ll do great out there. I promise,” you smiled. “Just breathe, remember to stay calm and you’ll do great.”

Elliott smiled warmly at you. He only wished you could come along with him, join him on this adventure he was going to have, but you had a farm to take care of, animals to raise and crops to tend to so you can help feed the town.

You had your responsibilities, and now, he did too. This would open up a lot of doors, a lot of opportunities to expand his craft, make good relationships and business partners, spread the word about his writing more and more.

He only wished he could have you by his side. After all, you were his biggest inspiration for finishing his book. This was all because of you; Because you had introduced yourself to him your first day of arriving at Pelican Town, because you took up his many requests on the wanted board in front of Pierre’s, because you had taken the time to get to know him, to give him many wonderful gifts, to give him the mermaid’s pendant… You had spoken to him nearly every day, no matter if you were covered in dirt from the farm or covered in slime and bits of dead bugs and whatever horrors you had slain in the mines, you made it your goal to befriend him, to stick your muddy boot through his cabin door and get to know him. Even now, the mermaid’s pendant sat heavily against his throat, the polished silver chain choking him with suspense as he started to worry.

What if something happened and he wasn’t here to help? What if something happened to the farm? It’s summer, storms would surely come to try and wreck the farm. What if you were caught outside? What if you were caught in the barns? What if you got hurt and he wasn’t there to help you? To protect you?

The bus had rolled down the street and stopped right in front of you both. You both eyed each other one last time before you fully turned to him, Elliott doing the same.

Now face to face with your husband, you reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. You could feel your throat tightening up just a tad as he wrapped his strong arms around your person, a quick press of his lips against your cheekbone.

“I promise to write to you every day, my radiance,” he murmured into your ear.

“Every day?”

“Every day without fail.”

“I love you, Elliott.”

“And I love you, (Y/n).”

The doors to the bus swung open, the bus driver not even looking in your direction at first.

Elliott pulled away only to press his lips to yours. The kiss was so full of passion for how brief it had to be without keeping the bus driver and the other bus occupants waiting.

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. You could see the yearning for him to stay with you, but you both knew this was coming sooner or later.

“Be careful, yeah?”

“Of course, my dearest.”

And with that, Elliott picked up his (overstuffed) suitcase and carry-on bag and set off into the bus.

You watched on with a reassuring smile as Elliott sat down at the window facing you. You followed the bus as far down the sidewalk as you could until there was no walkway left. You watched from your spot on the sidewalk as the bus was slowly swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel, heading towards the city.

With a soft sigh, you glanced down at the mermaid pendant sitting around your neck. You gently grasped the shimmering blue twisted shell and gazed back at the tunnel.

You ignored the biting, bitter feeling bubbling in your gut, wrinkling your nose at the sensation of dread wafting around your mind, and turned to follow the trail back to your farm.

Maybe if you busied yourself with farm work and the mines and whatever foraging you could find, the week would fly by quickly and Elliott would return to you sooner than you would think.

Upon arriving at the farm, you sighed. You knew the farm felt emptier the moment you stepped foot on the land. Even as your cat brushed around your leg and trotted towards the barn and coop, you hoped time would fly by quickly.

Picking up the milking bucket and shears from the chest by your house, you followed behind your faithful kitty, attempting to busy your lonely mind with work until your beloved author returned to you.

[marthawrites]

Beneath the Blooming Branches

Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 800+

About: Spring has officially sprung. You and Rhaenyra enjoy a quiet afternoon strolling and picnicking in the gardens.

Includes: Soft wlw fluff 🩷

Note: Hello lovely reader! This fic was inspired by @hotd-bigbang! It is purely self-indulgent because our dragon queen deserves more soft moments. I wrote this with young Rhaenyra in mind, but you can use whichever Nyra your heart desires! As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

-

“Would this be considered improper if anyone were to see us, princess?” You asked Rhaenyra in an excited, hushed voice, keeping pace with her agile steps out of the Red Keep and into the gardens. On your arm was a small basket of treats. During your time as one of the princess’ maid servants you discovered she had quite the sweet tooth. Some of her favorites were: candied lemon slices, candied orange slices, and sponge cake drizzled with honey. You just so happened to have all of those in your basket–along with a couple extra treats, too.

A small smile quirked her lips as her fingers interlaced between your own, continuing to drag you along the path. “Perhaps you have me mistaken for a princess who cares what others might think?” With a playful arch of brow her smirk gave way to a wide dazzling grin. Her clean teeth and pale purple eyes sparkled in spring's midday sun.

For a moment you weren't sure what to say. When she smiled like that–truly smiled–your belly and heart did silly little flips that stopped you in your tacks. She was lovely in a maroon silk dress with delicate lace details accented by pearls. In the high noon, her golden jewelry gleamed on her ivory skin like pure strings of sunlight. Radiant. How someone like her developed such a fancy for you was one of the biggest mysteries of your heart! You felt dull next to her in your common servant attire. But, beneath the neckline of your dress, you felt the silver chain dotted with its tiny crystals against your chest that she had gifted you; pretty, beautiful.

Rhaenyra was good at keeping secrets. As were you.

Besides, a headstrong Targaryen dragging her favorite maid around hardly looked suspicious. Simply two girls out enjoying the change of spring weather!

“Oh, silly me. Apologies, princess, I must have been thinking of someone else,” you winked.

“Just as I thought.”

Giggling, while still walking hand in hand, Rhaenyra led you along the garden's path. Sun dappled through bright green flowering trees making her silver hair glow. Fragrances–lilac, rose, lilly–filled your senses. The gentle ever-present buzz of bees hazed your brain in the best of ways. Each time Rhaenyra smiled at you, or squeezed your hand affectionately, magic bloomed to sweeten the memory this would soon become.

Between gossip, jokes, and easy conversation, you barely noticed how much time passed. 

“Oh! Let's stay here,” she said wistfully, tipping her head back to stare up at a blooming cherry tree. One of the prettiest sights this time of season. 

Next thing you knew you were laying out a blanket to sit upon beneath the pink and white tree; petals falling lazily from its branches like gentle snowflakes. Worker bees were louder here than anywhere else. Calm. Relaxing. You sat with a contented sigh. “I've brought your favorites. Are you hungry?” you asked, eyes bright.

“Always so sweet for me,” Rhaenyra replied as she carefully knelt behind you so as to not wrinkle her dress. “First, though, I want to do something.”

Since she was behind you you couldn't even see her from your peripheral. You trusted her, though. Maybe that's why butterflies twirled in your belly. You felt her fingers gently loosen your hair until it lay loose and natural. Despite the gentleness–or perhaps in spite of it–a shudder ran all along your spine and you couldn't help but squirm. A little. “What are you doing?” You asked, turning your head over your shoulder curiously.

“Hold still,” she answered with mock seriousness. Then, she added, softer, “I'm going to braid your hair and put cherry blossoms in it.”

You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to not let out a tiny squeak of delight. “Ooh! Okay. Afterward, it's my turn to give you a surprise,” you proclaimed sweetly with a glance at your basket. A smile grew on your mouth and your cheeks warmed with joy. By the time Rhaenyra was done you could have dozed off against her in the warm sun.

“There,” she said, a gentle ‘aww’ escaping her. “I wish you could see it from the back! It's so lovely.”

“I'll be careful so that when we return to the Red Keep I can use two looking glasses to see it at the right angle," you promised. Grabbing for your basket, you turned around so you were both kneeling and facing each other. “Ready for mine?”

“Yes!”

You opened the basket and pulled out a clear glass jar of preserved, still plump, cherries. “From the last harvest,” you said, beaming. “How extra fitting that we can share them here.”

“How did you know I've been craving these?” She asked with bright eyes.

You shrugged, grinning. “Just a hunch.” The seal popped when you opened it, and the scent of syrupy sugar and perfectly ripened cherries wafted from the jar. You pulled one out by the stem and offered it to Rhaenyra. 

Taking it, she savored it as she ate it. Then, she did the same for you. 

Cherry after cherry, you shared the treat. By the end of the small jar both of your fingertips were stained red, as were your lips, and it made the kisses that followed all the sweeter; a saccharine secret beneath the heavily bloomed branches.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @targaryen-dynasty @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

[dottedsilktie]

Aftermath

Nanami leaves behind a bereaved reader who has yet to fully accept the aftermath of his death.

CW : +18, smut, unprotected sex, unprocessed grief, angst no comfort

You look over to your phone buzzing on your nightstand. You don’t have to read the name that lights up your screen to know who’s calling. After the first buzz, you already know how everything is going to play out, for you have revisited this scene countless times in your mind before but it doesn’t dull the pain that blooms in your chest and bleeds into your whole body. You stay still, trying to breathe in large gulps of air and take a moment to collect your thoughts.

Just like you’ve practised before, you look around your bedroom and try to anchor yourself in the familiar scent of the bedsheets, bergamot and chamomile, then your eyes follow the embroidery of purple and blue flowers on your comforter until they settle on the mahogany chair sitting at the foot of the bed. Your gaze lingers on the chair, its bow back concealed by a cream-coloured suit, a wrinkled pale blue shirt and a yellow silk dotted tie : they’ve been sitting here for days on end, waiting for their rightful owner. You’d hoped they’d bring you comfort in a time like this, instead you find yourself wordlessly crying as you finally let the crushing weight of grief wash over you.

Ever since he left, you knew he wouldn’t come back. That’s just how life is, this world is cruel and it has given you everything you wanted just to snatch it out of your grasp again. The world is cruel, and he’d told you before that, despite his best efforts, he wouldn’t be able to stay, that he will be taken away from you. His warnings were in vain, it just took a few kisses, whispered confessions of lust and love and delusional promises of fleeing all of this together for him to sigh into your mouth and give in to you.

You didn’t want to believe him when he said you were both living on borrowed time, because with him it felt as though love was endless, he made you feel like time itself was altered, inconsequential when you lied bare in his embrace and sighed contently against his heated kisses.

You look down at the watch you held tightly in your hands, unable to focus on the time. Instead, you try to take in the elegant lines of the dial and the thin creases running through the dark blue leather bracelet and you busy yourself with reversing the case - hiding the dial and revealing it again, smiling through your tears.

It brings you back to simpler times, leisurely mornings spent in your shared bedroom. You’d be moaning shamelessly under the broad expanse of his chest, only getting louder when he’d become restless above you and sneak a veiny hand to your throat. You’re reminded of the way he’d rut into you with abandon, uncaring for the noise or his neighbours or the way both of your phones were ringing incessantly even on your days off. He’d smile smugly above you when you’d climax with a scream of his name and pleas dying on your tongue, but he wouldn’t last much longer - collapsing over you and panting in your mouth, burying himself deeply into you and letting his release flood your tired cunt. Even then you didn’t inch away from him, just manoeuvring your tired limbs to tangle yourself against him and brush the light blonde hair out of his face, revealing golden brown eyes still filled with wanton lust and a hint of something else unspoken and lingering in the air you both breathed in to steady your erratic heartbeats. That’s when he’d reach behind you to grab the same watch you were now holding, checking the time to see that it was already midday and jokingly chastising you for keeping him in bed too long. 

You remember those days so vividly and the lump in your throat makes it harder to breath when you think back on how the dark room you’re withering away in right now used to be drowning in golden sunlight, its walls reverberating with the sound of your laughs dying in your throat, turning into wanton moans and whimpers whenever Kento got his hands on you. He had become insatiable right before he left, always finding an excuse to get on you, under you, then inside you. There was a sense of urgency and desperation in everything he had done at the time. His amber gaze, usually warm, became uncharacteristically vacant. Maybe he already knew how Shibuya would end. You’d like to think he didn’t though, just to keep the illusion of his last days with you being happy, untainted.

Your phone rings again, jolting you from your daydream. You’re greeted with a concerning number of missed calls and messages sent in a frenzy from Ijichi – the first ones seem almost hopeful, but they quickly spiral into mournful and apologetic gibberish. Then you find a single text from Shoko, sitting at the very top.

There’s no mistaking the foreboding and defeated undertone of her message. A simple “Sorry, there is nothing I could do” that robs you of any remnants of hope.

You chance another gaze at your room, still so full of him, specks of Kento lingering in every corner like he might come back any minute - his suit is still like he left it, smelling of cold tobacco and vetiver and something heady but elusive, the familiar smell already starting to fade into nothing. You wish you could somehow bottle it up, keep a version of him that lives beyond the grave. The Reverso's cruel ticking reminds you what you already know, though. The sound of its impassive and ineluctable forward march seems amplified tenfold, drowning out your muffled cries.

When you look up another time, the room already looks bereft and it seems to quietly tell you that he's truly left this time.

Repost

For the sake of the drabble I HC him as wearing a JLC but deep in my heart he's a Vacheron Constantin guy