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cinnnamongrl · 1 year

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pretty when you’re high- ellie williams

pairing: dealer!ellie x fem!reader

summary: you and ellie are best friends despite your differences. ellie gets you high for the first time and the lines of your friendship become blurred

warnings: [18+] mdni, language, use of marijuana, kissing, light smut, some nudity, nipple play, top!ellie, bottom!reader, mutual pining

authors notes: this is possibly part 1 of 2. lmk if anyone would want that? pls send any feedback u may have, would really appreciate it. <3 update: part 2 can be found here

ellie williams was your best friend. you two were as close as friends could be. and despite what people around college thought, you didn’t find anything strange about the fact that the college’s best dealer was best friends with a shy innocent grade A student like you. but it was obvious to everyone that you two, despite being complete opposites, were inseparable.

what you hoped wasn’t obvious to everyone, was the massive crush you were harbouring on your best friend. you couldn’t help it; you thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. the way she laughs, her smile, her voice, the way her hands look as she rolls a joint. sometimes you’d just stare at her while she was doing sometime mundane like talking to someone at a party. you’d watch the way her mouth would move as she talks, how her eyebrows would raise in question, how her toned arms would move as she animated a funny story.

you felt like a lovesick puppy. but your friendship meant too much to risk fucking it up, so you made your peace with this one-sided infatuation.

as best friends do, you two did everything together; went to parties, listened to music, talked until the sun came up, had study/smoke sessions. meaning you studied, and she smoked.

“can you pass me that pen els” you asked, pointing to the biro a few inches from where ellie sat on your dorm floor, joint in her hand.

“what’s the magic word?”

“… abracadabra” you joked.

“wrong. now you don’t get your pen, sorry babe” she teased, picking it up and holding it behind her back.

your face flushed slightly from the pet name despite knowing she meant nothing by it.

“ellie i need to finish this essay. give me that pen” you warned

“why don’t you fuck off the essay and smoke with me instead” she offered hopefully, with a wide smile

you sighed.

“you know i don’t do that stuff” you said rolling your eyes. “and professor druckmann will end me if i don’t get this handed in by monday”

“well i will end you if you don’t stop being a priss and have a smoke with me. just a little bit, see if you like it.”

you frowned but said nothing. you had to admit you were slightly tempted by her offer. you’d always declined at parties, worrying about being in an unsafe environment. but just you and ellie, the person you trusted most in the world, in your dorm room… that’s pretty safe right?

“well.. i- i don’t know how” you said quietly.

“good thing i’m here then” she winked at you and scooched next to where you were sat on the floor, your back against your bed frame.

she held out the joint in front of you.

“just take a drag of mine. inhale and then try to keep it in your lungs okay?”

you looked at her and bit your lip in apprehension. you tried to ignore her eyes wandering down to your mouth as you did so.

“o-okay” you replied, as you took the joint from her fingers and held it up to your mouth, inhaling slowly and letting it ‘stay in your lungs’ whatever that meant, then slowly exhaling.

ellie was watching you with a small smile, feeling a sense of pride at you picking it up so quickly.

“atta girl. knew my smart girl would be a fast learner” she smirked as she playfully nudged your side and you let out a giggle.

~~~~~

a few hits later and your head was starting to feel fuzzy. ellie had taken the joint away insisting you not get ahead of yourself on your first time, missy and her slight condescending tone mixed with the weed had you feeling all tingly.

“feels nice els. ‘s a nice feeling” you spoke

“yeah?” she laughed.

“mhm. feel all fuzzy and tingly” you smiled and looked at the ground through heavy lids.

“i tend to have that effect on women” she joked, mouth turning up into a smirk.

cocky shit

“yeah” you said to yourself, lower than a whisper.

“hm?” she lowered her head to your face.

you snapped your head up.

“nothing” you mumbled.

she laughed and put her hand on your leg, just above your knee.

she was always touchy; often grabbing your hand to lead you somewhere instead of just telling you where to go, hand on your lower back as she stood behind you, or playfully grabbing your arm as she laughed at something you said. she pretended she didn’t notice the way you’d slightly tense up or the way your cheeks would go pink whenever she’d do this. despite the way she felt about you, she didn’t want to assume anything; maybe you blushed when she’d compliment you because you were shy. doesn’t mean you have feelings for her… right?

“you’re pretty when you’re high” she mused as she watched your eyes flutter, a blush creeping up on your face. there it is she thought.

“can’t say stuff to me like that” you said, looking down

“like what, babe?”

“like- like you’re pretty a-and babe. ‘s not fair on me” you uttered, voice small.

“but you are pretty.” a moment passed. “you’re beautiful.”

you looked up at her, searching her face for any hint of mockery or light-heartedness, but you couldn’t find it. your body felt warm and the fuzzy feeling all over felt even more intense.

“i’ve always thought you were beautiful,” she spoke. “the prettiest thing i’d ever seen.”

“ellie” you breathed out, heart beating fast and head swirling.

her hand moved up your leg, resting on your upper thigh and she moved her face closer to yours, eyes landing on your lips.

“can i kiss you?” she asked in a whisper, eyes not leaving your mouth as she spoke.

all you could do was nod, the combination of her words and the high making you unable to form a reply.

ellie grabbed your face with two hands and attached her mouth to yours. her lips were softer than you had imagined and she kissed you with a sweetness that juxtaposed the way her strong hands held your face. you kissed her back eagerly and it didn’t take long for her to take control of the kiss as she slipped her tongue inside your mouth, making you let out a small moan.

“fuck” she uttered against your mouth. “wanted to do this for so long”

she continued kissing you as one of her hands came down to rest on your waist. you felt dizzy with how turned on you were just from her kissing you.

“more.” you choked out. “please el”

“what is it you want baby? tell me” she replied, the hand that was resting on your waist, slowly coming up to stroke your side under your shirt.

“need you to- to touch me”

“i can do that” she smirked and grabbed your waist with both hands and placed you up onto her lap. her eyes sparkled as she looked at you, head titling up slightly from where you were placed on top of her, and you smiled shyly. lightly placing your hands on her shoulders, you kissed her sweetly. she dragged her hands from your waist up to your boobs and cupped them, fingers lightly ghosting over your nipples, then lightly pinching them.

“els” you moaned, head rolling back. you closed your eyes and let yourself focus completely on the blissful feeling of her hands on you.

“arms up” she instructed. you obeyed, lifting your arms up so she could lift your shirt up and over your head. she looked at you, green eyes now darker with lust.

“so fucking pretty" she muttered, almost to herself.

“this why you wanted to get me high?” you let out a small giggle.

“no,” her mouth upturned into a smile “but apparently when you’re high you forget to hide the way you stare at me.”

your eyes went wide and she laughed.

“‘s not a bad thing, it’s got you into my lap, hasn’t it?” she quipped.

“i hate you”

“‘s that right?” she titled her head playfully.

“mhm, i-“

she cut you off, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss, bringing her arms around your back and forcing your body to melt into hers.

#ellie willliams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou 2 #ellie x reader #dealer!ellie #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut

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lukesvangelista · 1 year

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𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

in which y/n wonders if there is anything left for her and luke after showing up to his apartment late one night.

warnings; mentions of hospitals, car accidents, death of a parent, luke's a pretty big dick, and overall angst

based on killer by phoebe bridgers

part two here

You needed someone. You needed someone badly. It had been six months to the day since your father had died, and it was taking its toll on you. When you received the call that your dad had been admitted to the hospital after being involved in a car accident, the first person you had called was Luke. Luke held you in the waiting room as you worried more than both of you thought was humanly possible, caught you when you collapsed after learning of your dad's passing, and rubbed your back and held you close throughout your dad's funeral. You thought nothing would break the two of you apart.

But that was six months ago. Two months ago, you had broken up with Luke. And for the past two months, you thought you had been handling the breakup pretty well. But it's amazing how fast those feelings come crashing down when you're in a state of vulnerability.

And that's the reason you're standing in front of the door to Luke's apartment at 2:12 in the morning. You needed to feel his arms around you one last time, especially now. And in all honestly, you wanted to feel his arms around you for the rest of your life, but you knew that was unrealistic. You didn't have much hope that Luke would show up and open the door. Not only was he probably asleep, you had been buzzing his ringer to try and get him to come to the door, but he hadn't answered. In one last desperate attempt, you left your ex-boyfriend a voicemail, "Hi. Hey, it's me. I've been buzzing you - and, uh... I don't know what I'm saying. I'm at your door. If you get this, I'll be here for a little bit longer."

To your shock, not even a minute later, the intercom buzzed, and Luke's sweet voice echoed through it, "Hello? Y/N?"

Boy, had you missed his voice. You were so enamored by hearing it for the first time in two months that you didn't respond, so Luke tried again, "Y/N/N? You still there?"

You almost cried of relief, "Yeah, hi. Here I am, I'm still here."

"It's..." there was a pause as the door opened, revealing Luke standing there standing in one of his gray New Jersey Devils t-shirts and a pair of boxers. His eyes were tired and his curly hair was disheveled, but you could see flames of confusion and slight worry dancing in his hazel eyes as he saw your tear-stained cheeks. The hint of green in them was really shining through, "two in the morning."

You sighed slightly as you wiped your eyes, sniffling before responding, "I know. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"Kind of?"

"I'm sorry."

Luke stepped forward to meet you in the hallway, closing the door behind him. He left it open just enough that there was a stream of his kitchen light that had made its way into the hallway, further illuminating your red eyes. Luke looked you up and down before his eyes met yours, "It's okay."

"Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this a bad time?"

He laughed slightly, "It's... it's two in the morning."

You sighed, feeling bad for showing up so late. You knew you had a good reason (or what you thought was a good reason) for showing up to his apartment, but as he was standing right in front of you, you wondered if you had made the right decision. Maybe the reason wasn't as good as you had thought, "I know, I just... needed to see you."

To your surprise, Luke seemed to remember what day it was. Despite not acknowledging the six month anniversary directly, he looked at you with sympathy, "How're you doing? You okay?"

You looked down at your feet, "Been better." Taking a deep breath, you gathered yourself before working up the courage to look back up at Luke. As much as you needed him, he looked tired and you didn't want to take up too much of his time, "Thanks for helping me through everything. I don't think I could've made it through those four months, especially the first couple of weeks, without you."

He nodded, not entirely convinced that this was the only reason you were here. This was something that could have easily been said over the phone, but Luke decided not to question you about it just yet, "Oh. Yeah, sure."

You gave him a weak smile and let your eyes wander back down to your feet. Awkward silence filled the air as Luke looked you up and down once more before his voice pierced through the silence, "Why are you here?"

Your head snapped up so quickly you genuinely thought you had given yourself whiplash, "Huh?"

"Why are you here?"

You laughed uncomfortably as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"I don't... I'm sorry. I don't get what you're asking."

Luke sighed heavily, overlapping his arms against his chest, "Why did you want to see me?"

Your lips shook as Luke stared at you, his eyebrows raised as he was waiting for your answer. The last thing you expected from tonight was an interrogation, especially not from the curly-headed boy standing in front of you, "Why? I don't know. I... I just didn't want to be alone I guess."

"I thought you were staying with Y/B/F/N."

You shook your head in confusion, "I am... I just wanted-"

"So you're not alone."

Tears filled your eyes as your ex-boyfriend pounded you with questions. The sound of his voice was becoming agitating, something you never thought would happen due to the last two months without him, "Wow... I'm sorry... I just wanted to see you, okay? Today's been kind of the absolute worst and I wanted - I needed - to not be broken up today."

Luke drew in a sharp breath, his eyes softening, "Y/N/N... I need to be broken up today."

Your heart dropped, "Oh."

"I need to be broken up for good," he sighed, looking at you in bewilderment, "Didn't we already have this conversation? Months ago?"

"Yeah," you spoke timidly.

Luke angrily laughed as he began to raise his voice, "So why are we having it again? Outside my apartment at two in the fucking morning?!"

"I don't-"

"I wanted to work it out! You were the one who wanted "space"!"

"Yes - I know. I know."

Luke laughed in disbelief once again, "So you got what you wanted. You have space. And I have an apartment that feels empty - which was not what I wanted!"

You tried to speak again, but words continued to fail you, "I know. I just-"

"So what do you want now?"

A tear fell from your eye, "Now?"

"From me," Luke stated firmly. You didn't answer, freezing like a deer in the headlights. Luke scoffed before continuing with venom in his tone, "Huh. Well how about this? You figure it out. And when you do - you let me know."

"Luke-"

"But till then, no more. Okay? I gotta go back inside." He moved to turn back into his apartment but you grabbed his wrist. It was Luke's turn to whip his head around to look at you.

Your eyes met his for the first time in awhile, "Why?"

"Because I'm done with this conversation and... I don't have to tell you why! I just do."

You laughed quietly, giving him a weak attempt at teasing, "Do you have someone in there?"

Luke froze, avoiding eye contact, "Y/N/N..."

Your heart dropped, and suddenly everything made sense. He never slept in just boxers when the two of you were together, and the wrinkles on his t-shirt gave away evidence that he just threw on the first one he saw, "Do you? Oh my god! Do you?!"

He didn't answer your question, "That's not the point."

Your eyes widened and you ran a hand through your messy hair, "I am such an asshole! Oh my god, I'm such an asshole!"

Luke opened his mouth to try and speak, but you cut him off. It was your time to be angry, "No, fuck that. You're the asshole!"

"How am I the asshole?!"

"You just are!" you screamed, "It's a really hard day for me in relation to my father's passing and you went out on a date?! Knowing that I'd need a friend, that I'd need you?!"

Luke scoffed, his mouth open as he gaped at you, "We are no longer dating! Do you get that?! I am no longer responsible for you!"

"I know! I know that!"

"Do you?" Luke asked angrily.

"I do!" you cried, "But you're still the only person I want to see when I'm..."

"When you're what?"

"I don't know!"

Luke unraveled his arms from across his chest and threw them over his head, his hazel eyes piercing your own eyes as he stared at you incredulously, "Wow - I take care of you and I'm an asshole - I don't take care of you, I'm still an asshole. Somehow I'm always the bad guy..." Luke paused and his voice softened just a little bit, "I don't wanna be your friend. I can't be friends with someone I was in love with - am still in love with! I don't know... I just can't. I'm not that guy. And if that makes me suck, then I suck."

A long, depressing silence filled the air until Luke spoke up again, his voice just barely above a whisper, "I would've married you, you know."

You looked up at him in surprise, your voice low, "Thanks."

"I'm serious."

"Okay."

Luke sighed tiredly, "I would have. I used to look at you and see my future."

"I don't think I want to get married." you whispered back.

"To me?" Luke asked quietly, his eyes full of desperation, as if he was. hoping you'd say no.

Your eyes traveled to his feet. For the first time that night, you realized he was wearing the UMICH socks you had gotten him after you guys graduated high school, and your heart broke even more, "To anyone." You looked back up at him, and your eyes met his one last time. His were welling with tears, but you continued, "You don't wanna marry me. You really don't. I'm not the kinda girl you marry. I thought maybe I could be. And I tried really hard. But it's just not in me. You dodged a big bullet. You dodged a hand grenade. You dodged an atomic bomb."

Your eyes left his, "You wanna know why I came over? I came over to see you because I love the way you look at me. Or the way you used to look at me. You used to look at me and it was like you could see the potential for good things. And I really wanted to be. A good thing. More than I wanted to be with you. I wanted to be whatever it was you saw when you looked at me. Because all I ever see are the things that make me sick," you laughed sadly, "But I guess you and I are finally on the same page, huh? When you look at me... you just see the same shit I see. You and I are finally looking at the same ugly thing."

Luke moved to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, but you stopped him, "Don't. Please, don't."

He stopped immediately, pulling his hand away, but not without using the pad of his thumb to brush some tears off of your cheeks, "Okay," he paused, sighing sadly before continuing, "I'm sorry about your dad."

You didn't respond. Luke took that as a chance to speak up again, "We should get you a cab."

You shook your head, "I can do it myself."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll get you a cab."

"I said I'm good," you snapped, scaring Luke a little bit. You continued shortly after, "You should, uh, get back to your date."

You gave Luke a tight-lipped smile before leaving him in front of his apartment door. And for the second time in two months, Luke watched the love of his life slip through his fingers, like your relationship was thinner than water.

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #umich hockey #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes angst #luke hughes x reader #hockey

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marthawrites · 4 months

Text

Matinee Delight

Modern Harwin Strong x fem reader

Word count: 3.2k+

About: While on a cinema date, the movie ends up being something you don't like. You try to talk your boyfriend, Harwin, into bailing early for something more fun.

Includes: Porn with plot to set it up. So, SMUT. Featuring an established relationship, dom(ish) Harwin, teasing, public sex, clothed sex, pet names, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, brief spit play, unprotected vaginal sex, fluff - I think that's everything! Sorry if I missed anything!

Note: Hello lovely reader! Harwin refers to reader as "little", but as always reader is non-descript. And as always, I hope you enjoy this fic! ��

If the cut and shape of your dress wasn’t distracting enough, the buttons made it obscenely distracting–for no other reason than they were silly, small, and ridiculous, and Harwin wondered how long it’d take to undo each and every one of them. Part of his brain knew you were talking to him, but the other part was focused–really focused–on those damn buttons. And, of course, your smaller, much softer hand interlaced with his own as you walked to the movie theater; grounding him even as his mind wandered.

It was a lovely dress. Truly. A staple piece in your closet. It wasn’t anything flashy, or fancy, or even particularly trendy. You had an eye for accessories, however, and the combination of jewelry, tights, and boots really made it pop. A hint of spring made the late winter breeze a little forgiving, but not forgiving enough to forego a jacket. You were really feeling this outfit. Harwin was too, apparently!

“Babe? Did you hear me?” You asked your boyfriend, squinting up at him suspiciously.

He blinked, full mouth curving into an easy grin. “Hm? Yes. Of course I heard you, sweetling,” he answered, doing his absolute best to sound as nonchalant as he could. Those brown eyes twinkled with barely contained amusement as he refocused on your face and not the buttons keeping your dress held together.

You saw right through it. “Then what did I say?”

“You were saying how excited you are for the movie.”

You scoffed. “Wrong! I said, I can’t believe you’re taking me to see this movie!”

Harwin gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before lifting it to his mouth, kissing the top of it. “It can’t be that bad. I think it’ll be fun to catch something we normally wouldn't.”

The theater had three movies starting all around the same time today. You wanted to see the newest rom com and Harwin wanted to see the latest drama. Since neither of you wanted to give in you decided to roll a dice to make the decision. Two numbers were yours, two were his, and the final two were for the latest action movie.

In a cruel twist of fate neither of you got your chosen movie picked. Instead, the oddball won.

You'd been officially together for less than a year. Neither of you had the best record with past relationships. Because of that, the beginning was extra cautious and a little slow. There was something about this relationship, though, that undoubtedly sparked. Love at first sight? Soul mates? Nothing as cliche as that. But the chemistry was undeniable. You had three months left on the lease to your apartment, and afterward you two talked about moving in together. Things were looking up and moving fast; you loved it.

“Maybe…,” you answered, unconvinced. “If it's bad I can't promise I'll stay.” Amusement laced the otherwise seriousness of your features as your gaze slid up to him.

Now it was his turn to see through it. The little glint in your eye told him everything he needed to know. “Even if I like it?”

“Especially if you like it.”

He let go of your hand and smacked your ass playfully. Leaning down, he murmured, “my rude little love. So cruel to even think of leaving me behind. Behave, princess, I’d hate to have to punish you.”

The warmth of his clean breath over your ear and neck had goosebumps immediately prickling your delicate skin. Despite his words, you knew he’d love to make true to his threat. You giggled. Unable to control the heat rushing to your cheeks, you replied, “then let’s hope it’s good, yes?”

Harwin’s low chuckle sent butterflies fluttering in your belly; muscles beneath tightened when he gave your ass another little smack. “Brat,” he teased.

Once at the cinema and waiting in line you savored the smell of fresh buttery popcorn. It was busier than you expected. Then again, there were three showings happening at nearly the same time. So perhaps it wasn’t completely unexpected. Behind you, three younger women, perhaps around college age, talked and giggled amongst themselves. You didn’t think much about it as Harwin went on about something he saw on reddit this morning. He always found interesting–or hilarious–things there.

One of the women–an admittedly stunning blonde–tried to squeeze around Harwin to grab a bag of candy. “Excuse me, sir,” she said in a voice a little too husky, her eyes raking over him a little too obviously. She completely ignored you. “Just trying to grab this right here.” She made a show of getting the candy and you glared at her.

“Oh, uhm, yeah, go for it,” he said to her while stepping out of the way, flashing one of his easy grins.

She returned it–more heatedly–before stepping back in line.

You couldn’t blame her, honestly. Harwin was all big, tall, and dark curls. His brown eyes, perfect teeth, and maintained beard were more than enough to catch the eye of other women. But, really? While you were standing right by him? Turning your attention over your shoulder to look at her, you tilted your head and flashed a tiny smirk. ‘Smooth’, your expression said. ‘Very subtle.’

She made a face and you rolled your eyes.

Looking up to your boyfriend, you leaned against him while you rubbed across his broad back. Your palm glided down until your hand slipped into the back pocket of his perfectly worn blue jeans. He looked at you and smiled softly, lovingly, wrapping one of his brawny arms around you to hold you against him.

There weren't many people inside the screen room when you found your seats. “That girl was totally checking you out,” you said as soon as you both sat down with popcorn and soft drinks. “You should have seen her face!”

He laughed, his hand closest to you sliding under your dress and over your tight-covered thigh. “I was too busy thinking about these to even notice,” he answered lowly, squeezing your soft flesh as if he had a point to prove.

“You sweet talker!” You proclaimed with bright eyes in the low light.

“Shh,” he teased. “It's about to start. Don't want to miss any of it.”

Leaning into him, it was your turn to whisper, “if it's bad I'm leaving, remember?”

His only answer was a firmer squeeze higher on your thigh.

The movie had a promising start. But it didn't take long for it to turn… ridiculous, even for a silly action movie. Harwin seemed into it and you wanted to change his mind. “Hey?” You asked, trying to keep quiet for the sake of the other people watching. “I'm getting bored.”

“A little longer? Maybe you'll like it more soon,” he replied, his touch creeping higher where it’d been glued the whole time.

Unenthused, you agreed. That didn't mean you'd make it easy on him, though. Tracing over his shoulders, you eventually settled your hand at the base of his neck. You gently twirled his curls around your fingers and grazed the tips over his scalp. The nape of his neck. Behind his ear.

“You're a naughty thing, aren't you?” He asked as he leaned into you, tugging at the highest button of your dress until it slipped from his grasp and snapped back against your skin. “Are you truly bored, or are you being a needy girl?”

The low rasp of his voice sent shivers erupting all over your skin. Fuck. You loved it when it got all scratchy like that. There was little–if not anything–you wouldn't do for him if he asked in that tone. “‘M bored,” you answered, coy, your lips brushing against his beard nearest his ear. You squeezed your thighs around his hand as if you had a point to prove.

He groaned softly at that. “We're not even halfway through and you're wanting to give up?”

A smile pursed your lips as you nodded. “Yes.” You pressed your free hand over the thick muscle of his thigh, daring to trace your touch up along the inside of it. Higher. You could feel him hardening, there.

It was a good thing the movie was loud, because the noise that came out of Harwin would have likely turned a head or two. “Get up,” he growled.

You feigned innocence and batted your eyelashes at him. He didn’t buy it. He stood and grabbed your hand to pull you away. Neither of you bothered to grab your snacks. He tugged you along, hand tight around yours, as he led you out of the dark theater.

Giggling, you asked, “where are you going?”

He looked both ways down the hallway before trying the handle of a utility closet. It was unlocked. Thank God.

It was bigger than you expected and only had one light with a pull string to turn it on and off–one of the old style bulbs that didn't cast much light. From the outside, no one would be able to tell it was even on. A perfect spot. The walk home might very well turn into a proper foot race. He'd win, most likely. Not only was his stride much longer and stronger than yours, but his cardio was peak too! You'd only win if he played it easy on you. Which, you knew he wouldn't. Not when he was like this. Not when he knew you needed him.

With a flex of his entire body he seamlessly lifted you up and sat you on the storage table. He pushed your dress up high so he could stand between your legs; his favorite place. “My poor desperate little princess. We shouldn’t have even come here, hm? To think we could have stayed at my place with Netflix and much less clothes...” He mocked before his mouth crashed onto yours. Those full lips were so soft, and warm, and demanding as he led the kiss. Sliding tongues, nipping teeth, and a fiery need grew by the moment.

“I always want you,” you whispered hotly between kisses. You were both breathing heavier, now. You fisted the front of his shirt with one hand and tugged on his belt with the other, pulling him into you.

Harwin made a low noise in his throat as you demanded more of him. “The buttons on this thing are insane,” he growled as he began to open them. “And these fucking tights? Oh, shit baby, you even wore one of my favorite bras on these perfect tits.”

The front of your dress was now all the way open, exposing the fullness of your body to him. Your chest rose and fell with your gnawing desire, and your pupils were wide with lust as you curled your fist in his hair. “Keep touching me,” you arched to press against him. “Please,” you begged.

“You just need these big strong hands all over you, don't you?” He asked, palming all over your exposed skin. You felt impossibly soft beneath his tough calluses as they scratched over you in the most delicious way. Those big hands squeezed your covered breasts, slid down your ribs, across your abdomen, until his fingers hooked beneath the waist of your tights. “Lift your ass.”

Tension coiled in your belly and settled like molten between your thighs. You obeyed and gasped when he slid the material down your legs. “God–yes! I love your hands,” you mewled.

“Grabbing you, squeezing you, fucking you,” he whispered by your ear. The feeling of his smirk against your cheek sent excitement jolting through you. “You need to be a good girl and stay quiet. Think you can be my good little girl and do that?”

You nodded frantically. “Yes,” you answered, the single word loaded with wanton hunger.

“That’s my girl. Fuck–I can't believe you're making me do this to you here. If you're too loud and get anyone else's attention I swear to Christ I will stop so fast.”

Two of his fingers pushed past your lips and you didn't need to be told what to do. He groaned appreciatively as you wrapped your mouth around his fingers, sucking and slobbering your tongue all over them. Your half lidded eyes stayed on him the whole time. His were darkened with lust; the set of his brow and jaw already had your toes curling in your boots.

He pulled them free with a wet pop. Without any other warning he pushed the front of your panties to the side and dragged those slobbered pads up your folds. Testing you. Teasing you. A dark laugh rumbled in his throat. “So fucking wet.” One thick digit pushed up into your body making you choke on a cry. “I bet this pussy could take three without even trying right now,” he said as he worked that single finger; curling, pumping, stroking all along your inner walls.

His name left your mouth in a strangled whimper. “More..! Please, please, more.”

A second joined the first and you thought you might explode on the spot. “Shh, shh… feels good, I know. Feels so fucking good. Gotta stay quiet, baby,” he cooed as his wrist flexed all the way up through his forearm. He pumped in and out of you just the way you liked it. As soon as that sweet hidden patch of nerves brushed against his fingers he was relentless.

“Shi–! Yes, yes, yes, fuck–!” You moaned through whimpers. Your hand lowered to wrap around his thick wrist, holding onto him as he fucked you silly on his fingers.

“Gonna come soon, aren't you? Can feel you squeezing around me. I bet your little clit is soo achey,” he rumbled with quiet humor in his umber eyes. Shifting his position, he angled backwards slightly. While staring right where his fingers disappeared in you, he rolled his mouth around a few times, collecting as much saliva as he could into a single useful glob. He spat the spit right onto your clit. His thumb circled the aching bud. He slid over it, again and again, rubbing it up and down, in tandem with his two fingers fucking in and out of you.

Blood pounded behind your ears. It was too much. The coil in your belly snapped and you peaked harshly. Intensely. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and panted your pleasure, using him to muffle the sounds of your orgasm. Your inner walls clenched around him and he slowed until he was able to comfortably pull them out.

“Look at me, little princess.”

Heavy lidded eyes tipped up at him.

He thought you were so beautiful–so perfect–when you were half dazed after orgasms like this. “There you are…,” he muttered, satisfied. “Sweet as you sounded coming all over my hand like that, I know you're not done yet. You need one more before we leave, huh?”

“Yeah. Want to have a hard time walking home.”

“My filthy girl.” Together you opened the front of his belt, then his button and zipper, until his cock sprang free. He didn't even bother pushing them down all the way before he said, “hop down and turn around.”

You did. Excitement thrilled along your spine. Something about the idea of bending over a utility table in a closet at the movies had your cunt clenching around nothing. You two had never done anything quite like this before. Car sex? Yeah. But nothing so public.

Harwin gripped into the soft meat of your hip and spread one of your ass cheeks open, letting him see all of you. “Hold onto the table,” he warned, voice thick and raspy. With your tights still bunched down under your knees, he didn’t have much room to work with. It didn’t matter, though; it was a glorious fucking sight.

Once again you did as told, knowing you'd need the extra support. The tip of his cock pressed against your soaked opening and you bit down on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. He was so big, and so hot, and the first spear of his thick cock never failed to take your breath away. He pushed inch after inch into your slick heat, not stopping until he reached the end of you. The hair on his thighs rasped against the smooth underside of your own and you whined in pure bliss. So fucking good.

“You holding on?” He dragged out of you until only his head was inside the tight wrap of your pussy. Then, with a flex of his ass he slammed into you once again. The wet smack of your skin had you gasping. “Better be because I'm not stopping now, sweetling.” His fingertips sunk into your flesh so firm you thought they might leave bruises behind. You didn't care though. Not when he began fucking you exactly how you needed to be used.

“H-Harwin,” you gasped, biting into your arm to muffle any sound that might grow too loud. “Feels s-so good..!” Each time he left you you barely had time to miss him before he drove back into your body. The stretch from his cock was beautifully maddening. Over and over, rutting into you with the perfect pace, pressure, and angle. Soon, his cockhead began to bully over that same patch of nerves his fingers were.

“There it is,” he mumbled close to your ear, grinning, his body weight an addicting pressure atop your back. “Gonna let me fill you up?” He asked sweetly–teeth scraping over your neck harshly.

If you weren't already close that would have sent you right to the edge. “Yes! Come in my pussy! Please fill me up,” you begged in a warbling voice.

His rhythm stayed true and in the next moment bliss overwhelmed all of your senses. A lovely, radiant, weightless sensation tingled through your blood and left you boneless. Behind, Harwin growled low in his chest as his cock throbbed within the tight squeeze of your body. Spurts of his seed unloaded into you until a mess of it slowly oozed out from around his girth; a lovely mess of you and him.

“Oh my god…,” you giggled as he pulled out, spent length beginning to soften. “Is there anything to wipe up with in here?”

Looking around, neither of you saw anything. “Oh come on there has to be something,” he laughed as he begrudgingly took a few steps away. A roll of paper towels finally caught his eye. “Ah-ha! Right here.” He walked to them and took a couple off.

He offered you one and kept one for himself; more at the ready if needed. You stood up and turned around, thankful for it. A second giggle left you as you watched him clean up, too. Luckily neither of your clothes got too dirty.

“Can't believe you made me do that to you here,” he said accusingly.

“I can't believe you actually did it,” you retorted.

“You know I can't deny my girl.”

Both of your clothes were fixed, now, and he gently kissed you. “You are the most perfect thing."

You hummed a sweet noise, floating on his praise, and wrapped your arms around him.

He squeezed you tight before carefully unfolding his arms from around you. Tipping his head to the door, he asked, “shower at my place?”

Lacing your fingers into his own, you nodded with bright eyes. “That sounds amazing!”

As quietly and inconspicuously as you could, you both slunk out of the closet with–perhaps–only the security cameras in the hallway as witness.

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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#house of the dragon #harwin strong #modern harwin #harwin x reader #harwin smut #harwin fic #harwin imagine

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moonstruckme · 9 months

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On Thin Ice

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

When your usual figure skating partner Regulus is injured, you're forced to prepare the most romantic routine you've ever done with Sirius Black. You've known Sirius since you were little and have always found him irritating, but as you spend more and more time together, your feelings towards him start to change

Figure Skater!Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 4.1k words

You breathe into the stretch, pushing past the resistance and trying to relax the muscles in your leg as you bend over it on the ballet bar. You hadn’t been entirely stringent in staying off it over the last few days (you needed to eat and get from room to room, were you supposed to crawl the entire time?) but your knee is feeling significantly better than it had when you’d first hurt it. You’d decided to keep the wrap on for today, your first practice after your couple of days off, but that’s more out of an overabundance of caution than anything. You feel good, the satisfying stretch of your muscles almost as nice as the light fizzing in your stomach as you anticipate Sirius’ arrival.

The door to the training room opens, and speak of the devil. “Funny seeing you here. Does it hurt or help to stretch it?” Sirius asks, sitting down at a mat beside you and beginning to rotate his ankles.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you say, though you’re not sure if the strain is necessarily good for your knee. Your plan is to make like the other day never happened, and hope you can catch up quickly enough to give a good show at competition. “It’s a little sore, but they said that’s normal. I can skate on it.”

“Glad to hear it.” Sirius’ grin has become like a call to yours, and you feel your mouth curving unbidden. You fall into an easy silence as you rotate your knee this way and that, testing how far you can go without pain before setting it down to stretch your other leg. Sirius stands with one foot held behind him, stretching his quads, and you try your best not to look at how the muscles in his thigh shift with the movement.

“Are you making eyes at me?” Apparently you didn’t try hard enough.

“No,” you scoff. “But it’s just like you to assume I was.”

“Awfully defensive,” Sirius taunts. “Looked like you were.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Mhm.”

“I wasn’t.”

“And I believe you.” Quick as lightning, he moves for you, taking your hand in his. You startle, but don’t pull away. Sirius hums, and there’s a look in his eyes like teeth in a wolf’s mouth. “Your heart’s beating awfully fast though, shortcake. Any reason for that?”

You snatch your hand away, nearly kicking him as you take your leg off the bar.

“Hey, wait,” he says, the amusement leaching from his voice as you grab your bag. “Are you actually pissed off? I was joking.”

“I know,” you reply, heading out the door. “I’m gonna get on the ice before it gets crowded.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Despite your recovery, practice doesn’t go well. It should; both you and Sirius have mastered the choreography, and Coach even has you skipping some of your jumps for the day, just to be sure your knee doesn’t flare up and take you out of the competition.

Once again, the problem is you.

“Y/N, where’s your head at?” Coach gestures helplessly. “You’re too stiff. Where’s that smoothness I was seeing the other day?”

You nod. It feels mechanical by now. “Sorry, I’ll try harder.”

“I’m not done,” he says, and looks almost apologetic. You’ve never had as many troubles with him as you have since Regulus got hurt. You always listened well, took to suggestions easily. He’d praised how quick you were to implement feedback, but lately he’s had to repeat himself over and over. You probably seem inflexible to him. “Your facials are all over the place,” he says. “You’re supposed to be looking at your partner, not at the audience. You can do this, I know you can. I’ve seen you.”

Yeah, you think, with Regulus.

You know what this routine is about. It’s about being in love, being absolutely enamored with your partner. You and Sirius flow around each other the entire time. Every time one of you casts the other off, you glide back almost immediately. With the exception of when you’re in the air, you’re supposed to be looking at Sirius the entire time. Suddenly, you find that’s become significantly more difficult.

Facials have never been an issue for you. You’re a decent actress, and up until today, you’d been able to make yourself appear as infatuated with Sirius as the routine demands. But after what happened in the training room this morning, you’re not sure how much of it would be acting. You’ve begun to enjoy being around him, too much. You’d missed him when you had to stay home from practice. You found yourself wanting to go to Regulus’ house just to see him, invent excuses to call him and ask him to come over, pretend you needed to sit in on his practice for some reason or another. You’re not sure how your annoyance with Sirius turned into this…warmth, but there’s no denying your physical reaction when he enters a room. As he’d so considerately pointed out this morning.

To look at Sirius the way you’re expected to for the routine, you feel like you’d be laying yourself bare, even if your expression appears the same as it did a few days ago. And worse, he might know. Even if he’d only been messing around earlier, your reaction had to have piqued his curiosity, and he might well have figured you out already. If you’d just been able to keep it together…

“Hey,” Coach says, pulling you from your thoughts. “You can do this. Got it?”

You nod, skating back to your starting position.

☆ ☆ ☆

You change as quickly as you can after practice, worried that Sirius will wait up for you and hoping to beat him outside, but when you come all but bursting out the doors, he’s already there.

“Wow.” He laughs, a puff of air in front of his face. “In a hurry?”

“How did you do that?” You throw up your hands, zipping your bag up the rest of the way. “I couldn’t have been in there more than five minutes.”

Sirius shrugs, grinning at you bemusedly. “Less clothes, I guess. Were you trying to run out on me?”

You purse your lips. It was probably obvious, but you’re about to deny it anyway when Sirius nods. He doesn’t look angry.

“Yeah, fair enough,” he says, and when he reaches up to take his hair out of its knot, the movement seems almost sheepish. “Listen, I’m really sorry about earlier. I know it’s been hard for you to get used to being touched, and I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”

For a moment, you’re silent. Then it’s all you can do not to sigh, nearly dizzy with relief. “It’s okay,” you say, smiling at him a bit dazedly. “I’m sorry I stormed out like that. I just felt…awkward about it.” Not a lie, though of course not the whole truth.

Sirius returns your smile (his eyelashes pinch in the corners when he means it, you’ve realized, and they do so now), a tension you hadn’t noticed in his stance relaxing. “Well, I don’t want you to feel awkward around me. If I’m doing something that makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me, you know? I promise I’ll stop.”

You feel your smile waver, doing your best to keep it in place. This is the problem. You wish, sometimes, that he’d just act like the rude, conceited boy you’d thought he was. The kindness he shows you so often now, even through jokes and teasing, is what’s making everything so difficult.

“Got it,” you reply. “Thanks.”

The eyelash pinch again. You’re growing unsettlingly fond of it. “Anytime, shortcake.”

You try to scoff, but it comes out as more of a laugh. “You’ve got to stop calling me that.”

“Alright,” he says, and you feel your eyebrows come together at his lack of resistance. No protests, not even a taunting remark? Sirius is fond of his pet names, you wouldn’t expect him to give them up so easily.

☆ ☆ ☆

As it turns out, he doesn’t. “Shortcake” drops out of his vocabulary, but it’s replaced by “angel,” “gorgeous,” “sweetheart,” “dollface,” “lovely,” and a slew of others that make your face go red and your knees go wobbly.

“Slower, dollface,” he murmurs as you skate alongside him, and it’s all you can do to keep your balance, slowing your pace just slightly before twirling in front of Sirius. His hands find their home around your waist, tossing you into the air, where you spin for a thrilling moment of dizzy weightlessness before your blades hit the ice and you pivot into arabesque.

“Yes!” Coach shouts, and you beam at Sirius as he picks up his pace, coming up alongside you and touching your fingertips to his. “Yes, that’s it! Facials, Y/N, facials!” You straighten your neck, widening your eyes and giving Sirius your most adoring look. His lips twitch rewardingly.

By the time you’ve finished, stopped hand-in-hand in the middle of the rink, your coach is all but bouncing on the edge of the ice. “That was great, you guys! Not to jinx anything, but—” his grin rivals both yours and Sirius’. “—I think you’ve got a pretty solid shot at medaling tomorrow if you can do that again.”

Sirius looks at you, the both of you breathing heavily, before setting a hand on your shoulder. He squeezes lightly. “I feel ready. You?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, giddy from both the praise and his touch. “Yeah, I think so.”

Coach must be feeling the same, because he doesn’t give you any notes before you go, only reminding you both to stretch and telling you to make sure to ice your leg tonight, just in case. There’ll be no mishaps or flare ups on the ice tomorrow if any of you can help it.

☆ ☆ ☆

You need to sleep, but you really, really can’t. The way your body is humming with adrenaline, you’d think you were competing in five minutes instead of twelve hours.

But twelve hours.

In twelve hours, you’re going to be performing the most objectively demanding and emotionally draining routine of your life so far. It’s no small thing. Almost unconsciously, your mind keeps running over the mechanics of your spins, the muscles that need to be activated when you jump, how you’re supposed to look straight ahead when Sirius lifts you. There’s so much that could go wrong. But if it goes right, it could be one of the biggest moments of your skating career.

Your phone rings, the noise jolting you out of your reverie. It’s Sirius, and your thoughts plummet to the worst possible conclusions. He’s sick, he’s hurt, he doesn’t want to do this anymore.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” His voice is characteristically jovial, and you relax. “You sound freaked, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” you say, blowing out an anxious breath. “I’m just…on edge, I guess.”

“Me too,” he admits, and you raise your eyebrows teasingly as if he can see. Sirius Black, nervous? Someone should alert the press. “Actually, that’s why I called. I know we told Coach we’d turn in early and rest for tomorrow, but I couldn’t sleep. I’m guessing you can’t either, since you picked up.” You’re silent, and when he continues you swear you can feel the knowing smile in his voice. “So if you want to join, I’m at the rink.”

You guffaw. “Wait, seriously? This late?”

“They don’t close for another hour,” he says. “I was gonna practice my jumps and stuff, but if you were here, we could run through the whole thing…”

You grin at your ceiling. “You are a terrible influence, you know that?”

“That’s what they tell me,” he replies, and you can picture him in the rink, a shit-eating grin paired with a shrug. “So how quickly can you get here?”

☆ ☆ ☆

You ditch your duffel bag on the bleachers by the door, skating out to meet Sirius. One good run, you tell yourself. One good run of the routine is all you need to reassure yourself tomorrow will go well, and then you’ll be able to relax until the competition.

“Hi there, sunshine,” Sirius greets you as you skid to a stop in front of him. “Don’t you look excited?”

You roll your eyes at his teasing, but you’re smiling. “I’m excited for anything that’ll help me get to sleep tonight.”

“Same page.” Sirius winks. “Wanna go through it from the top?”

You think you execute the routine nearly perfectly. You start to wobble during one of the lifts, but Sirius steadies you, and you’re not sure anything less than an expert judge would even have noticed. Other than that, it’s seamless. You land all of your jumps, you’re perfectly in sync, and by the time you finish, you’re feeling as sunny as Sirius had accused you of being.

“Yes!” you all but squeal, pivoting to slap Sirius’ palm in celebration. “That was great!” Sirius grins at you, but the corners of his eyelashes don’t pinch. “What?”

He blinks. “Nothing.”

“No, come on.” You look at him bemusedly. “What is it?”

Sirius shakes his head, surprise giving way to resignation. “I just, I know my turns aren’t as tight as yours. I don’t want to get us docked for not being synchronized enough.”

“I didn’t notice,” you say truthfully. “I mean, I feel like I would have, if it were that bad. And anyway, I’m twice as likely to get us docked as you are, so I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”

He gives you a look of halfhearted remonstrance. “Come on, we both know you’ve got much better control than I do. I just…” he pauses, seeming to steady himself. “Look, I know there’s no changing partners before tomorrow, but I want you to know that I’m sorry you got stuck with me, especially if I mess this up for you.”

“Sirius.” It comes out more breath than word, a puff of freezing air in the space between you. “You’re a beautiful skater. I can’t believe…I’m so sorry I let you think that I got stuck with you.” Sirius looks like he wants to interrupt, but you push on before he gets the chance. “I know I was sad when I found out I couldn’t skate with Reg, and I still am, but only because we’re so used to each other. It’s easy, I don’t have to think about it. But I’ve loved skating with you. I don’t want Reg to be hurt, obviously, but I wouldn’t trade you out if I got the chance.”

Sirius shakes his head at you. “Dollface, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to say that.”

“But I mean it.” You take his hand, and you sound nearly angry now, but good, because it’s getting his attention. Sirius’ face looks wide open, his eyes bemused and lips just slightly parted in surprise. “Being your partner, it’s been amazing, really. You’re fantastic on the ice, and you’re great at giving me advice, and you’re nicer than I thought, and I just really like being around you.” You flush. You’ve gotten a bit carried away, and try to reel yourself back in. “I just don’t want you to think that you’re bringing me down, because you’ve made…this routine a lot better. You’re a great partner to have, Sirius.”

Sirius’ hand is warm in yours, and he doesn’t try to smile as he says, so softly you might not hear him if you weren’t standing this close, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Something feels abruptly different in the air between you, but you don’t shy away from it. “I mean it,” you say again, ardent.

“I don’t know if I’ve said it,” he says, all but whispering, “but I really like having you as a partner too.”

“Yeah?” you breathe, and you’re not sure who pulls the other first, but all it takes is one little tug for your skates to comply, and then his lips are on yours. Despite the shift you’ve witnessed tonight, his kiss is everything you know Sirius to be. Confident, unhurried, giving and taking in equal measure. Warmth seeps from your lips all the way to your fingers and toes, and it’s a good thing you’re so close to the wall, because the muscles in your legs feel suddenly useless. You bring a hand into his hair, and he takes it for the invitation it is, gripping your waist to pull you closer to him. You’re eager to let him. In fact, you wish you weren’t wearing these damn skates so you could climb him like you want to. You settle for placing both hands on the sides of his face, pulling him closer to you, and Sirius groans as you suck his lip into your mouth, grip tightening on you even as he pulls away.

“Fuck, you’re so…” he pants, a little chuckle escaping him. “Well, you’re a lot of things, gorgeous.”

You take his laughter as a good sign, but your voice is still tentative when you say, “I hope that’s a good thing.”

Sirius gives you a fond look, swooping in for a quick peck. “It’s a good thing.”

You flush, grinning at him. “This isn’t what I was expecting when I came here tonight.”

“Me neither.” He nods, blowing out a breath. “I mean, I wasn’t planning on it, but I’m not sorry. Are you?”

You shake your head quickly. “No. I just hope this doesn’t affect our performance.”

Sirius laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you off the ice. “Sweetheart, after your little speech, I don’t think anything could ruin us. We’re untouchable.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“Don’t think you’re untouchable,” Coach lectures in the bleachers the next day. “I know that face, Sirius. Stop it. Be…well, be more serious.”

You snort, and Coach fixes you with a look. “You too.”

You smother your grin, giving him your most solemn nod as Sirius’ eyes shine with laughter beside you.

Despite your worries that you wouldn’t be able to sleep at all after what had happened with Sirius, you’d crashed as soon as you’d gotten home last night.

“Listen, you two did great yesterday,” Coach says. “I want to see that same energy on the ice today. If you don’t mess around, keep everything tight and do it just like we practiced, I could see you placing third or fourth.”

You beam. At a competition like this, getting on the podium would be an absolute dream. You’re doing your best not to let your hopes get too high, but Coach and Sirius are both radiating a confidence that makes that difficult.

“Alright.” He claps you both on the shoulder. “Go get changed.”

You’re barely starting to contemplate letting your fingers brush Sirius’ as you walk away, but as always, he’s bolder than you could ever hope to be, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“How’re you feeling, sunshine?” he asks. “Good?”

“Great.” You mean it. “Ready, I think. You?”

“Ready, I know,” he counters, jostling you affectionately.

“I think we’re gonna do good,” you say, blowing out a breath. The adrenaline is starting already. You feel like you could run a lap around the building. “We had a great run last night.”

Sirius smirks at you. “I thought so.”

“In more than one way,” you allow, face warming slightly. “And it’s like Coach said. As long as we do it like that, we’ll be good.” You stop outside the women’s locker room, turning to him. “Just don’t drop me, okay?”

“I won’t drop you,” he repeats, mimicking your playful tone. He slides his arm from around your shoulders, leaning down to peck you on the lips. “Meet you by the entrance?”

Your entire face is buzzing from the brief contact. “Yeah,” you say, sounding somewhat dazed and probably looking it too. It’s unsettling how little it would take for Sirius to kiss you completely stupid. “See you there.”

You ignore the knowing quirk of his eyebrow, turning the corner into the locker room. You try to refocus on the competition, shaking your head as if to rid yourself of the extra stuff. Spins, jumps, landings. That’s what needs to be going through your mind today. Any thoughts of Sirius’ touch, the warmth of being pressed up against him, how sturdy his shoulders feel under your hands…any thoughts of all that need to be strictly relevant to the routine.

You do wonder what he’ll think of your costume, though. That’s relevant to the routine, isn’t it? He’s never seen it, and you haven’t tried it on yourself since the fitting with Regulus months ago. It was clearly selected for a routine about passion, a sleek, black bodice that fades smoothly into a blood red skirt that flutters around your thighs. It’s simple, meant to accentuate the romance of the routine without distracting at all from the routine itself. Regulus’ outfit had been all black, equally simple, but you don’t know if they’ve had to change anything for Sirius. The brothers are hardly the same size, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d gotten a different costume altogether.

You know that at least your makeup is the same, a simple slash of black eyeshadow across both eyes. He’d told you the other night that he’d practiced it to make sure it would look good. You’re positive it did. Knowing Sirius, his eye makeup will probably look better than yours.

You shake some of the nerves out of your limbs after lacing up your skates, and head for the rink.

☆ ☆ ☆

Everything before your slot is a buzz of adrenaline. Warming up in the training room, standing at the entrance, your coach gripping you and Sirius’ shoulders in one hand each. Knock 'em dead. The sound of your names over the loudspeaker, and Sirius’ hand warming yours as you skate out into the middle of the ice.

Sirius looks like he’s been drawn into the scene. He is indeed in the same costume Regulus had picked out, so he’s all inky black hair and eye makeup and clothes against the gleaming white of the ice. Even his gaze looks darker, the contours of his face more defined, and his poised expression is slightly unnerving, but then he drops a wink, lightning quick, and he’s just Sirius again. It takes all of your self-control not to smile, but you turn from him, easing into your starting pose.

It’s an endless wait for the music to start, but then it does, and you’re off. The movements flow easily from that repository of muscle memory where you keep them stored. You barely have to think, but you make yourself focus, conscious of each muscle as it’s activated, each signal Sirius sends through his touch, each change in the tempo of the music. You jump, and you land it, spinning right into Sirius’ hold. He throws you, and you land it again. And land it, and land it, and land it. Sirius is even better, the natural artistry of his movements melding with the results of tireless practice. He’s gliding seamlessly from one move to the next, making it look easy. Part of you wishes you could step back and watch him, but there’s nowhere you’d rather be but here, looking into his eyes like you’re supposed to as he takes your hand, pulling you closer to him before letting you spin away again.

Your chests are heaving when you finish, smiles far from performative and palms slippery with sweat where you’re pressing them together.

It’s hard to tell whether the applause that erupts from the audience is genuine or merely polite. The judges are impassive, but Regulus isn’t, a rare smile on his face as he claps. You blow him a kiss as you skate to the edge of the rink, knowing he’ll hate it but needing to express the sentiment anyway. You’re sorry he couldn’t perform today, you’re happy he’s here, you love him. He rolls his eyes, and you know he gets it.

As soon as Sirius steps off the ice, he grabs for you. You squeal as he spins you, pressing your face into his shoulder.

“We did it,” he says breathlessly into your hair. “You were amazing out there.”

“So were you,” you say, feeling it more sincerely than your voice can convey.

He sets you down as your coach comes over, telling you much the same thing. You listen to him, but you can’t stop looking at Sirius. You’re like a flower tilting towards the sun, pivoting towards him almost unconsciously as his face shines with unchecked joy, his smile huge and brilliant. Pinched eyelashes and all. You hardly care how you place; it’s inconceivable that you could get any happier than this.

He glances down at you with a knowing look, but you know him well enough by now to see the softness in it. As you walk towards the kiss and cry, Sirius takes your hand, or maybe you take his. It doesn’t matter which.

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sunshinebingo · 3 months

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@gwynrielweeksofficial Day 14 - Free Day

Aaand it's the end of Gwynriel Weeks 2024. Kudos to everyone who has managed this event ❤️. It was amazing to see all this love for my favourite ship and also to be able to participate in it. Thank you!! ❤️

Today's fic is a gift to @avabrynne (my little love letter to you is on Ao3 😉)

Synopsis: Catrin finds a baby in their backyard and tries to convince Azriel and Gwyn to keep it.

Word Count: 1.7k

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

≽^•⩊•^≼

Azriel’s head whipped around so fast his neck almost cracked. If he told his wife that, the only thing she would hear would be the cracking part and make a joke about him getting old.

“Daddy. I found an orphan.”

“What?”

He placed his knife on the kitchen countertop and looked towards the back door, to the little girl walking in with a few leaves in her pigtails and her lavender sweater balled up in her tiny arms. He removed the kitchen towel that was thrown over his left shoulder and wiped his hands before placing it down next to the knife and chopping board.

“I found an orphan in our garden.”

Azriel approached his daughter, mouth opening to ask what on earth she was talking about, when a little noise coming from the sweater made him stop. The little noise sounded a lot like it belonged to something with claws and fur. As if to confirm what it was, the little thing decided to poke its little head – after struggling for a few seconds– out of the sweater.

“Look daddy, look. She’s a baby,” Catrin exclaimed as though he wasn’t seeing the fluffy black kitten too.

The tiny creature looked around with bright yellow, almost gold, eyes. It seemed more curious than afraid despite being in the arms of an excited child. Cat beamed at the kitten in her arms. She jumped on the spot, causing the kitten’s head to move this way and that while its body remained trapped in its prison made of wool.

“Ok honey, calm down,” Azriel said and reached out his hands to take the kitten from his daughter’s arms before its head flew off.

Cat pointed at the door leading to their garden. “She was alone in that bush,” she explained, leaving Azriel to guess in which of the several bushes in their backyard she could be referring to.

Azriel held the sweater in the crook of his arm and extricated the kitten from it with his right hand. He handed the sweater back to Cat when he was done and took a closer look at the black ball of fur. It looked quite thin to him but showed no sign of injuries.

“How do you know it’s an orphan?”

“She told me,” Cat replied with a shrug.

The kitten meowed. Azriel had no idea whether it was to confirm or deny what Cat had said. He looked down at his daughter but decided against questioning her supposed ability to talk to animals.

“She?” he asked instead.

“The baby,” Cat pointed to the kitten that was busy trying to climb on Azriel’s shoulder.

He pulled the little thing away, removing its claws from his t-shirt when it tried to hold on, and turned it around.

“It’s a he.”

“He who?” Cat furrowed her brows.

“The baby,” Azriel explained as he brought the kitten closer to Cat’s face. “It’s a male.”

Cat giggled at the paw that reached out to boop her nose. There was dirt on her knees, on her bare feet and forearms. The blue jumper she wore was in a barely better state than the rest of her. Azriel smiled at her dishevelled state but sighed internally for the fact that he had thought of changing her clothes before letting her play outside. Gwyn would have been pissed if Cat had ruined yet another one of her school clothes.

“You’re my baby brother now,” Cat announced to the kitten while she petted its head.

Azriel laughed. “Hold up honey. What if his mommy comes back for him?”

Cat wrapped her arms around one of her father’s legs. “But he was alone,” she reminded Azriel, looking up at him with her big blue eyes and a pout on her lips. Not for the first time in 4 years, Azriel noticed Cat’s striking resemblance with Gwyn whenever she used the puppy eyes on him in a desperate attempt to get him to agree with something he had said no to. Apart from having her father’s black hair, everyone who knew Gwyn could see that Cat, on the outside, was a pretty good copy of her.

“Mommy can be his mommy too.”

Azriel’s eyes darted from his daughter to the kitten nipping at his finger with his sharp teeth. He knew that it was common for cats to adopt their humans instead of the opposite and this one did not seem to be an exception to this rule. The longer he took to reply, the tighter Cat wrapped her arms around his leg.

“Daddy pleeease.” She threw her head back and dragged the last word until Azriel sighed and stopped her with an, “Ok fine.” Cat gasped and looked at him with hope in her eyes.

Azriel hadn’t had a pet since he was a child. He had always been fond of cats. His daughter had also been asking for a pet for a while now – well, either that or a sibling. Azriel had been on Cat’s side the whole time in trying to convince Gwyn to agree to either of those. With the way this little thing here was purring and scratching at his shirt, he thought perhaps it was a trick of fate that had sent him here.

“OK listen. We will give him back to his mommy if she comes back,” he stated as firmly as he could to Cat as she gripped the fabric of his pants and nodded with a widening smile. “And we’ll have to ask your own mommy if she agrees with this.”

Her messy pigtails moved when she nodded again and started jumping. “If she says yes, then we can keep the baby,” Azriel added.

The squeal that Cat let out was so loud that even the kitten jumped in surprise. She released his legs and started running excitedly around the kitchen while waving her dirty sweater. Azriel lifted the kitten up to his face. “You still got time to run buddy.”

The little thing meowed, and tried again to climb on his shoulder.

ฅ^•⩊•^ฅ

“Mommy, mommy. I found an orphan. Can we keep it mommy?”

Gwyn stopped at the threshold with one foot still outside. She didn’t have the time to put the other one in before her daughter was hugging her leg. It wasn’t the first time that Cat greeted her at door when she came back home. Though usually Gwyn was greeted with a “hi mommy” before the babbles started.

“Can we keep it mommy please?” Cat asked very loudly while jumping on the spot.

Gwyn placed her bag on the small bench near the front door. She picked Cat up and smooched her cheek. Her daughter smelled like the bubble-gum shower gel she liked so much. Judging by Cat’s clean matching yellow t-shirt and shorts, she guessed that her daughter must have had her bath not long before her arrival. Even her hair was styled in the twin French braids that Azriel was so skilled at doing now.

“Hello to you too, my darling.”

Cat wrapped her arms around Gwyn’s neck and returned her mother’s kiss with another one of her own.

“Now, what was it you were saying?” She asked as she walked them further inside the house.

Cat beamed at her and placed her hands on Gwyn’s cheeks. “Can we keep the little orphan, mommy?”

Gwyn’s brows furrowed. “What orphan?”

“The baby.”

“What baby?”

“The orphan,” Cat said like it should be obvious.

She had had many interesting conversations with her daughter before but this one felt particular strange.

“What on earth are you –”

Gwyn stopped abruptly when she reached the living area.

“Can we keep it mommy pleeease,” Cat kept going, shaking her mother’s face, while Gwyn took in what her eyes were seeing.

Azriel was lying down on his back, shirtless, on the carpet beside the coffee table, with a little black kitten on his chest. The kitten was hitting and biting the finger that Azriel kept waving at it.

“Hello, my love,” he greeted her but didn’t look away from the kitten. There was no doubt his smile was more for the little thing than for Gwyn. Azriel laughed every time the kitten missed his finger when he removed his hand faster than it could hit it.

“What is this?” Gwyn whispered to no one in particular. Her body was still frozen and her eyes glued on the scene before her.

“It’s a baby,” Cat replied.

The kitten attacked Azriel’s hand again, wrapping its tiny paws around his wrist and turned on itself but it only managed to slide off his chest and fall down clumsily on its back. Gwyn gasped and let out a shriek louder than when the enemies in the enemies-to-lovers book she was currently reading finally became lovers. She placed an equally excited Catrin on the ground before she ran towards a stunned Azriel. Gwyn sat on the floor beside him and picked up the kitten.

“Hi little baby,” she cooed while petting it. “Aren’t you the cutest little kitty.”

Cat reached her mother and leaned over her shoulder to watch. Azriel rose from the floor and stretched out his legs before filling Gwyn in on everything that she had missed before she came back. He rested his back against their grey couch and pulled Gwyn by the waist until she sat on one of his legs. Though his wife wasn’t paying him any attention, he still kissed her cheek and lips. It only took a second before Cat felt left out and moved to sit on his other one. The little girl brought her face close to Azriel’s until he kissed her on the cheek too. And another one on the tip of her nose where it always made her smile the most. Azriel wrapped his arms around them both and they all snuggled against him. Meanwhile the kitten between them was only interested in playing with whatever moved in front of its face.

“So, we are keeping it?” Azriel asked unnecessarily.

“Of course we are.”

The kitten stopped and stared at Catrin when she squealed from her mother’s answer. But then it went back to what it was doing, as though the little thing was already used to all this.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #Gwynriel baby #gwynriel weeks 2024 #gwynrielweeks2024 #fluff #domestic fluff #This was what I supposed to post on Domestic Day but it wasn't going well #Anyway #This is nothing but fun and fluff

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gold-rhine · 1 year

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Sub afab! Kaeya x GN Dom! Reader

Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned. Part two of this fic, can be read as standalone, but follows the emotional arc from the first part, so I think it’ll feel more rewarding to read them in order. But you do you, ofc.

Warnings: nsfw, bondage, fingering, oral (character receiving), vaginal and anal sex, overstim, graphic description of a panic attack. It’s a bit intense and angsty at one point, but it gets better, I promise

Wordcount: 4k

Trust me/ You can be sure

You kiss him, enjoying the languid and sensual way his tongue moves against yours, low sweet hum deep inside his throat. His hands are tied to the bedframe above his head, and his body is completely in your power when you slide down, pepper him with kisses, he’s beautiful and silken and arching under you.You suck on his clit briefly and then slide your tongue into his cunt, and his hips lift under your mouth, his legs shuddering and falling apart in pleasure, but his voice is still cocky and ironic, if just a little breathless

“I’m so sorry, I’m afraid that’s a wrong hole. I thought we wanted to try the other one.”

“And I think someone wants to get his smart mouth gagged.”

“You won’t,” he says with an arrogant smirk. “You like hearing me talk.”

He’s gotten more used to the compliments, but that only means he now sounds smug when fishing for them instead of bitterly sarcastic. You still can’t help but indulge him.

“I do,” you smile, straighten up to sprawl next to him, catch his chin in your hand to bring his face next to yours. “But there are ways to shut you up for a few moments without a gag.”

“Oh, you mean with a kiss?” he grins wolfishly, reaches up for you despite the cocky tone. “That’s chea…”

Holding his gaze, you slide two fingers into his cunt and watch him choke on his words, then smile wider and start caressing him in a way you know can drive him crazy in seconds, - thumb roughly at his clit, fingers hooked deep inside him, stroking his sweet spot with slow, methodic pressure.

“I would never cheat like that,” you tell him and you can feel his face heating up in a blush from how close you are. “Not when your mouth looks so pretty gasping for air.”

He blushes brighter and bites his lip harshly to stop himself from gasping, but can’t stop his body from betraying his desire, how he clenches around your fingers, turns from glistening to soaking wet so fast. It’s a different kind of powerlessness from just being tied, helplessness from how well you know him, how precisely you can break him, and he loves that you know it, care to remember it, even if he'll never admit it.

You can tell from experience when he’s about to come, when the thrusts of his hips first turn frantic, then his entire body arches up, desperately lifting off the bed, tense legs spread at the bent knees and breath held. You slide your fingers out before he can finish and he crashes down, glaring at you indignitally and catching his breath before he can speak.

“Oh, sorry, you said something about a wrong hole? I’ll leave it alone then,” you say with a feigned innocence. “Anything you want, as always.”

He groans, rolling his eyes.

“You were not such an insufferable tease when we first met.”

“I’ve learned from the best”, you grin and kiss the corner of his scowling mouth.

You use both lube and his own slick from his throbbing, soaked cunt to coat your fingers, then slide them down and start massaging the tight ring of his asshole.

“Babe,” you tell him softly, “remember, we’re just experimenting for fun. If it doesn’t feel good, tell me, we’ll do something else.”

He flushes, looks away and drawls with pointed irritation.

“Ugh, I wouldn’t tell you I haven’t tried it if I knew you'd make such a big deal out of it. It’s fine.”

Here’s the thing, you know sometimes he tries to hide his own discomfort if he thinks it’ll disappoint you, and also that he only gets so rudely defensive when you hit his sore spot. You can hear his heart racing in his chest even as his voice is confident. The time to be most gentle with Kaeya is when he tries his damnest to be the most unpleasant.

“Okay, just don’t hesitate to say something if it changes,” you bring your mouth to his ear and whisper quietly. “You are more than enough as it is, baby..”

He takes a shaky breath, still refusing to meet your eyes. You don’t pressure him, draw a trail of sloppy wet kisses down his neck, then on his fast rising chest, tense stomach, until covering his swollen clit with your mouth. It doesn’t take long of playing with it to make both of his holes twitch, pulsing open. You press one finger inside and he clenches around it immediately, his entire body tensing up. You glance up to see him arching, his chest with hardened peaks of nipples rising up feverishly in quick frantic breaths.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“Yes, don’t stop,” he says, sounding strangled, and then you catch a barely audible, tiny “please…”

You grin against his pulsing flesh and get to eating him out, with your finger slowly moving inside his tight, tense ass. When you start picking up the rhythm, he moans, hips bucking up to meet your lips, knees shaking and falling apart, toes scraping at the bedsheets.

“So you *do* like it,” you smile, actually relieved at this undeniable display of pleasure, no longer needing to worry that he tries to hide his discomfort for your sake.

“Can you…” he swallows harshly, still doesn’t look at you, even though his hips are rising eagerly to meet your movements. “I want you in my cunt too…”

You smirk and slide your thumb into his wet, trembling entrance, suck on his puffy clit. He lets out a choked noise, something between the strangled moan and a needy whine, his pussy clenches, gushing with wetness. Hiis legs jerk up to press his knees to his chest and offer himself better to you, toes curling in the air.

“Oh, so you *really* like it, hah?” you smile, move your tongue along his beautiful quivering folds and sliding another finger into his ass, eliciting another moan, his legs raising even higher up to expose himself. It’s humiliating, but he can’t help it, wants to be open for you, loves this feeling of being filled by you, wants even more, wants you in his mouth too, even if he’s too proud to admit it, having already openly asked for too much.

But you see him lick his lips and bite them, gasp, opening his mouth wider than he had to. You slide two fingers of your free hand into his mouth, and he shudders, tenses up, looking up at you paralyzed, like a deer caught in headlights. Before this moment, he didn’t know he wanted this so badly, but now it takes over him, how good it feels to be so open, all of him in your disposal, all of his holes, and how you still look at him with such a hunger, like you want even more, like you want all of him

“Fuck, look at you. You’re so beautiful. And you’re mine,” you fuck into him, his cunt, his ass, and his mouth, and he trembles and arches, eyelashes fluttering helplessly. “Everything you have, I’ll take you whole.”

He comes harder than he’s ever had before, scream muffled by your fingers in his throat, cunt squirting on your hand, his mind completely black and blank, nothing but the waves of pleasure. You let him ride through orgasm until he goes limp, slide your fingers out and move to untie his hands, but he arches up into you feverishly, closes his legs around you.

“No, please, don’t stop yet,” part of him is embarrassed of how quickly he came, even larger part wants more of this thoughtless bliss, but there’s an unspoken, shameful undercurrent that aches to be held, can’t stand the thought of losing the feeling of being wanted so completely. (you offer him aftercare after every session and he shrugs it off, too proud of being in control, confusing genuine care for pity, because despite being brilliantly smart, he is sometimes a complete idiot) “I want more. I want you to fuck both of my holes, hard.”

“Are you sure you can take it right now?” you pause, looming over him. “It seemed pretty intense for you, baby. We can always try it next time.”

“No, let’s do it now.” He smiles seductively, his voice turning into a purr, but with a wry edge. “Come on, don’t you want me? Haven’t you promised me so many times, “anything for you”?”

You do want him, especially because he’s begging, so openly needy, arching and rubbing against you, without any irony or performative flirting. Here’s another thing. You think he has experience and knows his limits, so you can trust him when he says he can take it, and he thinks that being traumatized in other areas somehow makes him tougher in this one. This is, of course, not how it works.

You get the harness that lets you add a strap in addition to the first starp\cock. He’s on his knees in front of you, tied arms bent at the elbows, back arched and ass high in the air, exposing his soaked cunt. You cup it with your hand and stroke his swollen, pulsing clit, and he bites back a needy moan, rubs against your palm desperately, the slick petals of his folds visibly trembling open.

“Just fuck me already.”

“You can’t blame me for enjoying the sight. It’s not every day I see you begging to be used.”

“You could be,” he says quietly after a small pause.

You raise an eyebrow and make a mental note to bring it up later. You haven’t discussed many terms outside of the bedroom, and from his independent and flirty attitude you’ve assumed he wouldn’t want to be exclusive. He still didn’t tell you that he hasn't slept with anyone else, for which he has completely rational reasons, such as why would he go try some untested swivel when he already has a source of delicious wine, it makes complete sense without bringing feelings into this. And also all of the time that you’re not fucking him, he’s very glad that you don’t ask him to be yours, because that’s just more convinient for everyone involved, and the fact that he feels like dying if you don’t say it when you’re inside him is just. Hormones. Or kink. Or both, but who cares, it doesn’t matter.

For now, you align the heads of both cocks against his entrances and carefully press into him. He shudders, gasping, an unfamiliar overwhelming sensation of both of his holes being stretched at the same time. You move slowly, give him time to adjust before every thrust, run your hand soothingly over the tense muscles of his back. He’s usually not very loud, but now he moans with every movement, tied hands clawing at the bedsheets. He feels so full, like there’s no way he could take any more and yet every time you push deeper, until both of your cocks are buried inside him to the hilt.

You lean down, gently move away the long strand of midnight blue hair to kiss his stiff shoulder, whisper into his ear, sweet and dirty. His forehead, damp from sweat, is pressed to the sheets, eyes squeezed shut, mouth opening silently in gasps for air. You hold him from behind, your chest against his back, one of your hands caresses his throat and then trails down to play with his nipples, another hand slides in between his thighs to stroke his swollen clit. He turns his head abruptly to catch your mouth in an characteristically clumsy, awkward kiss, his entire body writhing against you with needy abandon, his mind too far gone in pleasure to be concerned with pride. He comes like that, just from the feeling of you all around him and filling him up.

It’s so rare to see him unraveled so completely for longer than a fleeting moment after which his defenses go up again. You want to fuck him so badly, he’s so pliant in your arms, sweet and wet and open, but you contain yourself to ask

“Hey, baby, are you okay? Do you want more?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. He’s dizzy and breathless, but all he knows through the fog of pleasure is that it feels so good and he doesn’t want it to stop, doesn’t want you to let go of him. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t need anymore encouragement, start fucking him, slow at first and then raising the pace. He screams, choked and so unlike himself that you’d be worried he’s in pain if he wasn’t screaming “Yes” and “Please”. You dig your fingers into his hips, enjoy the obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin, of his gushing wet cunt being fucked.

It doesn’t feel like usual orgasm for him, not the tight knot in the pit of the stomach, but lightning bright currents rolling through his entire aching body, turning him raw and overwhelmed, like he doesn’t even belong to himself anymore, filled and used so deeply by you. After a little while, he loses both his mind and control completely, his mouth going slack and his eyes rolling, his body trembling and shaking helplessly under you. He almost blacks out when he comes, his screams turning more and more desperate until you stop, slide out of him.

You only move away for a minute to take off the harness, thinking he’s too far gone to care. He doesn’t exactly come to his senses, but the deep-ridden survival instinct urges him to take control. His mind is still blank and dizzy, black rings under his eyelids and heart drumming in his ears, and all he knows is that he’s alone and weak, so weak and helpless and TIED, he can’t move, so he struggles, pulls at his ties, but can’t break free and he’s horrified.

You turn back at the high clinking sound and see the icy crystalyne shield forming around him. It looks fragile like cut glass, but the thought of forcefully smashing it, while he’s curled inside, scared and desperately trying to break free, is sickening. He’s weirdly quiet, he screamed in pleasure while you held him, but now he’s biting his lip and struggling silently, his eyes shut, his heart beating way too fast and his ears ringing, like he’s so sure he has no no one to help if he calls.

“Kaeya, it’s me, it’s okay, baby,” you touch the shield and it freezes your fingertips, but you don’t move away. “You need to drop your shield, darling, it’ll be okay, please, my love, you have to let go...”

You keep talking and gradually it gets through the ringing in his ears, he still can barely understand the words, but he can recognize that it’s you. All of his survival instincts scream to not trust you, not trust anything you say, because anyone can turn on him at any time, so he can never let his guard down. …but it’s your voice asking him to let you in.

He chokes on the breath, his arms tense and wringed in the ties, and drops the shield.

You move immediately, scoop him close to your chest, hold his shivering body with one arm, and clumsily try to untie his hands with the other. It’s not easy, but you’re afraid to let him go, and he’s shaking against you. You finally manage to free him and he curls against you, only now starting to sob. His wrists have deep red marks from the ties from where he pulled too harshly on them, trying to wring them out. You gently kiss the sensitive bruised skin of his inner wrists and keep telling him that it’s okay, he’s safe, you’ve got him.

He actually comes to his senses some time after, and the first thing he thinks of is how embarrassing this is. There’s a difference between being seductively helpless and horribly pathetic and he never intended to cross that line. He pushes you away, stands up, determined, if a little wobbly, and stumbles his way to the bathroom, holding onto the walls.

“I’m fine,” he snaps when you try to help him, but it’s hard to be pissed at his tone when he’s still so visibly weak and disoriented. You help him settle in the bathtub as the warm water fills up to cover him when the subject comes to him leaving after this.

“Are you kidding me? You cannot leave like that,” you say incredulously, and his gaze suddenly sharpens, turns cold blue.

“Why? You think you can actually order me around?” he drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm, but you don’t take the bait. You cover his hand with your own, look him in the eye and say slowly

“Kaeya, don’t be ridiculous. I won’t let you go alone in this state,” he visibly bristles, tensing under your hand and you continue calmly, “You can sleep on the sofa and never talk to me again after this if you want, but I won’t leave you alone like that.”

He looks away and tenses up, quiet for a long time, until he finally says “Okay, fine. Can you leave me be for a little while here at least?”

“Of course,” you squeeze his hand and stand up, fighting the urge to kiss him when he’s so obviously closed off. He still doesn’t look at you when you walk out of the bathroom.

You prepare the sofa for him and go to bed. He appears on the threshold of the bathroom sometime after, wearing your oversized t-shirt. Kaeya is someone who can make a potato sack look good, quite literally. Illuminated by the orange light from behind, ruffled hair and long slender legs and just a little of a curve of his ass visible under the baggy shirt, he looks incredibly hot.

He turns the bathroom light off and walks out to the other room with the sofa. He lingers at the threshold, glancing briefly back at you. You’re not sure if asking him to come to you will help or only spook him away, so you keep silent. After some hesitation, he walks out of the room and vanishes out of sight. You sigh and close your eyes.

Few minutes later, you look up at the quiet sound of the steps. He walks up to your bed slowly, a silvery silhouette, illuminated by the moonlight, but his eyes are invisible in the shadows.

“I thought if I’m staying at your place, I might as well enjoy the best sheets, which you will obviously have at your own bed,” his voice is confident, even cavalier, but he wavers in front of your bed, uncertain of your response.

“Of course. It’s the least I can offer you,” you smile at him in reassurance. He gives you a small, barely noticeable in the dark smirk, and finally climbs into the bed. Despite his arrogant tone, he freezes at the very edge of the bed, his back to you, visibly trying to take as little space as possible. His silhouette is sharp and tense in the moonlight and he pulls just enough of covers to put over his waist, laying exposed otherwise. It breaks your heart for some reason you can’t quite articulate at the moment, how lonely and guarded he looks just next to you, and you want to just reach out and pull him closer, but remember the cold crystalline shield and don’t do it. Instead, you carefully pull the bed cover onto him. After a few minutes, when you close your eyes and start to adjust to the cool air without the covers, he scoots over to you, bringing the sheets back to cover both of you.

You smile and softly kiss the back of his neck. He doesn’t say anything, but leans back against you, so you throw an arm over his waist and fall asleep, holding him close.

When you wake up the next morning and start stirring, the first thing you see is him looking up at you sharply, like he’s reading your reaction to seeing him. He only relaxes when you smile and say “Oh hey there, gorgeous.”

He grins and presses against you, sprawled at your side, catches your mouth in a kiss. He’s eager to prove to you that yesterday was just a fluke, that he can compensate for all the trouble, that he’s certainly, undoubtedly worth it.

He has nothing under his shirt and when you slide your hand up his thigh, it rides up, exposing his naked ass. He throws his leg over you, grinds against you a little too aggressively, when through the fog of morning sleepiness and lust you finally remember what happened last night and stop moving.

“Wait, I think you should rest up for at least a day, baby, let’s wait.”

“Ugh, I’m fine, don’t be such a bore.”

“You said you were fine yesterday and then almost gave me a heart attack. Sorry, I’m not risking it again.”

You say it in a light tone, so you don’t expect his response to be heated, but he abruptly moves away and glares at you, tensing up.

“So what, you’re just going to throw me out like that? Fine, I’ll go and finally fuck someone else then.”

“Kaeya, what the fuck are you talking about? Of course I won’t throw you out.“ He still stares at you incredulously so you throw an arm around his shoulders and pull him down on the bed next to you. “Come here. It’s way too early for this, babe.”

He freezes up against you, staring at the ceiling, your arm that’s holding him close burning him like a hot iron, but he can’t move. The sprouts of tenderness crawl under his collarbones, insidious and unwanted, his calculating mind frantically searching for any motives that aren't caring about him for you. He watches dust dance in early rays of slanted sunrise and wills himself to move away, to leave, but can’t. Fine then, if he can’t bring himself to leave, it’s not like being left instead was ever hard for him to achieve.

You start dozing off, your cheek pressed against his soft hair, when the thought of what he meant when he said finally fuck someone else crosses your mind. But before you can think about it any deeper, he plants his arm across your face.

You catch his wrist and gently move it away, squinting at him.

“Kaeya, are you trying to be annoying enough to make me throw you out to prove a point?”’

“No,” he grins pleasantly, his voice sweet. “I’m trying to find out “how” annoying I have to be to make you throw me out.”

“I won’t ever throw you out,” you tell him almost solemnly, holding his gaze, that is anxious under bravado if you know him well enough. Then you smirk at him. “But I might be forced to whack you with a pillow if you keep this up.”

He looks over you intently, his eyes searching, questioning if you really meant it, but then he grins back.

“Then I have to warn you that I’m ruthlessly proficient at pillow fighting, being an undisputed champion at the dawn winery except for the five months after Diluc hit the growth sprout first and his strategy of falling down like a cut tree log was paying off due to the sheer size advantage.”

“Hmm, it doesn’t sound like you’ve been winning due to skill then, maybe you’ve just never met a worthy opponent.”’

“Well, now I’ll have to defend the honor of my doofus brother. I can call him useless, but other people can’t.”

“I need to take your threats seriously then,” you catch his chin and gently rub under it in a way you know makes him melt. Then you kiss him and reach around to steal his pillow while he’s distracted. “So I better make sure you’re disarmed.”

He gasps in exaggerated dismay, not even trying to hide a grin at the same time.

“I cannot believe you’ve backstabbed me like that,” he says, sounding delighted, and breaks into laughter. It strikes you that you’ve never seen him laugh so carefree and openly, without reservations, not just a wry chuckle or a smirk, and how lovely and happy he looks like that. “I hope you understand that you leave me no choice but to retaliate just as ruthlessly.”

You smile at him, hoarding both of your pillows behind your back.

“Of course. Anything you want, as always.”

#rhine writes #rhine writes filth #sub kaeya #genshin smut #sub genshin #kaeya

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alexiela73 · 1 year

Note

Hi!!!! <3 Is it possible to get another Ramattra headcanon, maybe a little angsty? Like...what are his final days with human s/o like?

Absolutely!

Ramattra

The life the two of you lived together had so many beautiful moments

Ramattra was the first omnic to get married- something the two of you decided to pursue a few years after getting together

While the two of you never had kids, you both travelled all over the world helping to repair omnics and try to make peace between the omnic and human societies

The two of you spent the last fifteen years in a house on a small acreage, as you started to get older. It was your first house together, and holds so much love

Despite how the years wore on, and how you continued to age, it never mattered to Ramattra how many gray hairs or wrinkles you had. He loved you, intensely

He was used to now helping you up and down the stairs, letting you nap and cleaning the house or taking care of the property. Your favorite thing to do together was to look through the albums you'd made of all the places the two of you had gone together

Ramattra knew your time was coming. You'd reached the ripe old age of 86, and while humans could have lived longer, Ramattra felt it- the shift in your life force

It was like watching the dying embers of a fire trying to stay alive

You had very little energy left

Ramattra would sit in the bed with you, a tray in your lap, and feed you while crooning soft words

You slept more often now, and Ramattra would gently stroke your hair and hum to you

Seeing you so fragile and small broke his omnic heart

The two of you had talked about this many times- Ramattra had felt like the years were passing far too fast. For him...he would never age or die like you.

You had held him at the time, as he struggled with the reality of knowing someday you would be gone...and he'd be all alone

Now he held you. It felt selfish, the way he held so tight to you, praying that you'd live another day

Each breath though clearly caused you discomfort, and he could only gently press a damp cloth to your head and hold your hand

It felt like the both of you knew when the moment came

"Ramattra," you had rasped, looking at him with half lidded eyes. As he leaned his face into your soft, delicate hand, he watched as the corners of your eyes scrunched as you smiled. "I want you to remember that I love you. So much...and that the world...is not a evil place."

"Shhh, y/n," Ramattra had said softly. "Save your strength."

A low chuckle had left you. "My darling...I have no strength left to save. You know...as well...as I that...this is it," you choked, coughing a bit.

Ramattra smoothed your hair, leaning in to press his forehead to yours. "I'm not ready yet," he said softly. "Please."

"No one... is ever ready, Ramattra. This is part...of humanity. And this...is why I have appreciated....everything I've had with you. When I'm dead...I will live on...in your memories," you said, voice weakening with every word, your breaths drawing out. "And carry... your love with me...always."

A part of him knew you were right, though that made accepting this no easier. Ramattra was scared of you going though, without knowing how much you meant to him. But what words could describe enough how you meant to him?

His voice sounded choked, even as you closed your eyes. "I love you, y/n...thank you. Thank you for being...my home," he said softly.

The way your lips pulled, eyelashes fluttering...your smile, no matter how small, was so beautiful to him.

"Thank you...for being...mine....." you whispered.

It was minutes before your heart gave way. Ramattra knew the moment it stopped beating.

For him, it was impossible to understand the kind of anguish he felt, the loss and grief, the love...

After all, he had never expected to fall in love with a human

And yet...given the chance to repeat it all... Ramattra knew he'd fall in love with you all over again, if only to hold your hand one more time

He ended up burying you beneath your favorite tree

Even years later, he visits it every day, and leaves flowers on your birthday and anniversary

#Ramattra #Ramattra x Reader #Ramattra Overwatch #Ramattra Headcanon #Overwatch #Overwatch headcanon #Overwatch x Reader #Overwatch Angst

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hansols-yoda-boxers · 2 years

Text

Oct 17th [Bang Chan + Edging]

[9:13] Your tease of a boyfriend was being nice. Very nice. Too nice.

He liked to play with you. He liked to take his time. You knew in the end he would always make you feel good but you had to go through a lot to get there. He never made it too easy for you to get to your orgasm. Even if he never outright said it you knew he loved when you started squirming and whining and you could always see just how much it stroked his ego when you started sweetly begging him to touch you properly and make you cum.

So the fact that he had so easily taken you into his lap, fingering you open. The fact that the second you had asked for more he gave it to you. The fact that he was listening to every little thing you wanted and you didn’t have to whine or beg at all for any of it was… suspicious.

Even your lust-addled brain could tell something was up. He was a little too sweet. It was too soon for him to be sinking you down onto his cock and letting you control everything. He never let you just cum so easily. He couldn’t help making you whine just a little bit. He couldn’t ever help himself. So your nerves were mounting as you mounted him, bracing yourself on his shoulders and biting down onto your lip to stifle the sounds that were on their way out anyway.

“Feeling good, baby girl?”

Were his words a trap? If you said yes would he stop you from moving with that cheeky, smug grin he always had? Or if you said no would he lift you off and tell you that since you weren’t enjoying yourself you could just stop? You didn’t even know if he was playing mind games or just being sweet. Either way a moan tumbled past your lips and he seemed satisfied with that. Chan’s hands squeezed your hips as he leaned in and captured you in a deep kiss. At least he was just a little desperate with his kisses, at least he wanted release too. Maybe he was just that horny, enough to let you get off without making you work so hard for it for once.

You started to carefully grind down on him. Despite how needy you were feeling, you didn’t want to move too fast too soon. You loved being close to him like this, chest to chest, straddling his lap, feeling his hands on your hips and his moan dying on your tongue. But even so you couldn’t kick the thought that he was not going to let you have what you wanted. So you tried to move slowly, savoring the moments and trying to tell yourself he might not realize when you were about to cum.

Chan kissed your jaw before slipping down to kiss at your neck. You let out a quiet string of moans as you moved just a little faster and started to swirl your hips instead. Each movement made the coil in your core curl tighter, made your body tense just a little bit more. You tried not to let it show in your moans, keeping your body moving at the same pace on his cock and quietly cursing yourself as you started to clench around me.

Chan nipped at your ear. “Do you want to cum on my cock, baby girl? Fuck, I wanna feel that.”

Some part of your brain was yelling to still be suspicious but he was basically telling you to cum now and your body was far less willing to exercise caution. You started grinding down on him quickly, a string of curse words falling off your lips. Chan let his head fall back as he let out a groan that sent even more arousal rushing through you. Everything in your body pulled tight as your moans climbed higher and your gripped Chan even more tightly in a silent plea to cum with you.

Suddenly his hands pressed down hard on your hips. Your hips jolted as he stopped you, not letting you move any more and even though his head was back, sweat on his skin and chest heaving, his lips curled into a grin that made you whine.

“No! I was so close,” you sounded exactly as desperate as you felt and you could see in his expression as he tilted his head up to look at you just how much he enjoyed it as you squirmed and tried to start moving again. In one, smooth movement he held you to his chest and rolled you over, onto your back, before bracing himself on the bed and pressing up just enough to look at you.

“I know,” he hummed. “You sounded so cute.”

“Why did you stop me?” You whined, hitting his arm weakly to emphasize your displeasure.

“Because you’re even cuter when you pout,” he grinned.

“You’re a j-jerk, you know that?” Your voice stumbled as he started to slowly and shallowly thrust into you.

“I just love all of your reactions,” he leaned down and pecked your lips. “Is that a crime?”

“You want me to suffer.”

He gave you a much deeper thrust and your eyes fell closed as a moan tumbled past your lips. In spite of yourself you back arched off the bed and he chuckled.

“It sure sounds like you’re suffering, baby girl.” He teased.

“Why c-can’t you be a nice b-boyfriend?” You muttered, trying to keep your voice even as he kept the pace with the deep thrusts, already bringing you close to your edge again from the slow motions.

“I’m nice,” he hummed, pressing kisses across your cheeks. “I want you to feel as good as you can and isn’t it so much better after I make you wait for it.” You let out a gasp as he picked up his pace, your hands gripping his arms tightly as each thrust brought a wave of pleasure. “It’s okay to be patient, baby girl. I promise it’ll feel so good. Don’t I always make you feel good?”

You held onto the last shreds of indignation by not responding and instead focused on the way your body was tensing again. You could feel the build again, bringing you to your edge and you tried to control your reactions but you couldn’t help the way your nails dug into him and your thighs tightened around him as you got right to your edge.

In an instant, Chan stopped moving. A chuckle fell off of his lips as you let out the loudest flustered whine yet and he held your hips still so you couldn’t get any more sensation.

“Come on, Channie please,” You whined.

“Oh now my girlfriend is being nice to me?” He laughed.

“You got what you wanted,” you said. “You got to see me whining, now make me cum!”

Chan pouted at you. “Oh, you’re not being nice.”

You let out a heavy sigh before giving him the biggest doe eyes you could that he could never resist. “Channie, please.”

“Maybe I don’t want to now.” That statement was a damn lie on account of him still being ball-deep in you cunt.

“Channie,” you put on a sing-song voice, cupping his cheeks making eye contact with him. “Won’t you come with me? It’ll feel so good.”

His lips twitched into a smile before he leaned in and gave you a kiss. His hips started to move again as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I can never truly resist you, baby girl.”

#the way i was so tired when i got this i knew he was gonna be annoying #i had fun #also i dont wanna see yall tagging this as dom chan i worked so hard to not making a boring or generic dom chan idea #i worked so hard guys ksajdhsa #timestamp #kinktober 2022 #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #skz imagines #skz smut #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #chris bang smut

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m0chisenpai · 8 months

Text

But You, Are Mine

Game of Thrones

Oberyn Martell x back!reader x Ellaria Sand

Part of the Marie Antoinette series. You don't need to read the other parts but if you'd like more background I'd suggest reading some of the other imagines before this one.

Oberyn loved his son. Of course he loved each and every one of his daughters, but a part of him could not help but yearn for a son. And so as you pressed his first son to your flushed and heaving chest he felt his own heave as Ellaria hugged herself behind him.

"A son..." Oberyn sat himself beside your body. He pressed kiss after kiss to the side of your face, thanking you, praising you.

"You did amazing my love, so amazing. Bearing my child is a gift I could never repay."

Your tired smile was all you could offer as your arms held your first born, your son to your chest as the midwives made work of cleaning you and your babe.

When you first found yourself to be with a child you were beyond furious. You begged the midwife to check again, you’d been careful for years, you were young. Grandmother taught you to not let a single drop taint your womb lest it was legitimate that could bring favor to your house name. And you had too much life ahead of you! But alas the women once more told you that you were with child. You’d miss your flowering twice. It was a telltale sign.

You were calm, too calm as you stood and walked down the stony walls. Maids looked upon your stoic face in concern as they were so used to your joyous greetings. Your gaze was blank, so cold that whispers began to spread among the palace that very day. Your hand carefully grazed the hidden dagger within your dresses, sliding it beneath your sleeve.

And as you turned the corner you saw the one who cursed you greet you most joyously in your shared chamber.

Oberyn found out when you had taken your most prized gift and pressed it to his throat, cursing him to the gods. Yet despite this predicament he held the most joyous smile with the sharp weapon just inches from putting an end to him.

Ellaria managed to talk you down, her gentle hand curling around the fist and lowered the slim dagger. She understood your anger was truly the pain of loss, you were becoming a woman. And it was painful. She held you in her arms watching as the anger morphed itself into bitter pain, into sadness that drenched your cheeks with bitter tears that she wiped away.

She would try to bring it up in conversations. She offered to send word to your mother about the newborn, you waved it off. You would fall into silence, or spit out a short response. It was as though the thread between the three of you was being pulled tight.

You refused to speak to Oberyn. He first found it to be part of that quick temper he fell in love with. But slowly it festered. Unforgiveness planted seeds which blossomed into a garden of silent hatred. You would mumble to yourself in the mirror, to your stomach at times. He heard you curse it, his little snake. That’s when the thread snapped. The day you cursed the babe back from whence it came.

“It has done nothing against you to earn you bitter hatred!”

“I never wanted it! I never wanted this burden Oberyn! What do you know? You merely plant seeds, but do you know the burden of a mother? My mother told me stories! The pains, the aches, the near death.” You hissed each word. “You’ve damned me and I hate you both!”

“Take your words back” Oberyn’s voice is hoarse. He could care less about your hatred towards him, but his babe? He refused to allow the child into a world without a mother to love. Your lips pressed tight as your fist shook, and Ellaria wrapped her arms around her lover.

“Let us go Oberyn, give her time to breathe…please.” She begs, her eyes are tired as she guides him out the room, her gaze staples upon your broken resolve before the doors shut, much like your heart.

You and Oberyn found yourselves in a period of silence. When it was time to break fast, enjoy a mid day meal, Ellaria would notice the stiff tension between the two of you. At this point you had just barely begun to show. You hid your bump like it was a dirty secret, like you were ashamed. Your favorite dresses are replaced with ones much looser. You felt disgusting. Your diamonds, and jewels no longer held the shine to them.

It was a day where Oberyn was needed to attend to his duties, Ellaria was to accompany you. And as she went to your dressing quarters she saw you crumbled to the ground, surrounded by your gowns. Your jewelry scattered as you blubbered incoherently.

It broke her heart. Because after she watched you quickly fix yourself and whisper harshly to your reflection as you dabbed at your eyes. She watched you pick up broken pieces, and it made her ill as she sat upon your bed waiting for you. When you stepped out you jumped at Ellaria sitting on your bed. “How are you flower?”

And she felt her eyes water as the mask smiled and breathed out, “well.”

Slowly you found yourself sleeping in your personal chambers apart from Ellaria and Oberyn. His heart tore in two. He had forgotten what it was like without your form. He missed how you’d tug the sheets to yourself on the more chilly nights. Or how Ellaria managed to always hold you to her chest and massage your head till your slow breaths lulled him to sleep.

You were at the stage of aching. You could no longer run after the girls in the gardens. You couldn’t keep your meals down, Oberyn nearly broke down your door hearing your whimpers and curses in your bed chamber as you heaved. One of the midwives would sit beside your side, dabbing at your damp head with cold towels, messaging your back and belly with oils.

They’d deliver updates to Oberyn daily, the babes was healthy, it was fine as was the mother. How she was moving a bit more, keeping some food down. A sad smile found its way to his face when she informed the prince how she adored cherries. You would sneak bowls of them in your rooms and the servants would find bowls filled with stems and seeds.

So now he makes sure every morning you awaken to a bowl beside your chaise.

“Ellaria,” he never sounded so broken in his life, “have I truly cursed her. My precious rose.”

She can only wrap him into her arms and kiss his tears away. “No my love.”

A trip, just you and Ellaria. Oberyn bid his paramour a safe travel, he said the same to you, but you kept your eyes ahead, hands folded beneath your aching stomach. The villa was set atop a hill. You remember Oberyn bringing you to see it. As you walked along the beaches you saw it just barely in the distance andi inquired who was to live there and he revealed the gorgeous second home to be your own.

It felt incomplete without him there.

You sat on the beach beside watching the girls dance about in the waters. Ellaria picked up Loreza twirling her in her arms eliciting a gleeful cry of joy that in turn made you smile. They asked if you would join, but you declined. You were tired and your feet were in pain.

The sun slowly began to set and the girls sat upon their own blankets eating whatever pastries and meats the villas cooks provide in woven baskets. You managed to hold down a few berries, sipping on cool water.

“My love,” Ellaria stood looking down at you. Your eyes gazed down at her hand which she offered to you. “The water should be much cooler now.” Her arm draped around your back in support that eased some of the pains. She matched your slow steps not once rushing you, and when the gentle waves hit your feet you let out a small groan.

It felt like heaven surrounded you as you waded in more, pulling your skirts up to avoid getting them drenched. Ellaria smiled from beside you as your eyes stared out to the golden sun. Your eyes looked down as you stepped onto something hard and smooth.

“Mama! Auntie Y/N! Look!”

“For the baby.”

You smiled down at the little one taking the small pouch of shells. “I am sure the little one will love them”

The storm had blown past. You and Oberyn work slowly day by day to build back the relationship you had. Apologies are exchanged. Affection returns slowly but surely. And by the time your water has broken, you cling to Oberyn and push through hours of painful labor demanding he stay by your side.

“Have you thought of a name?”

“No, not yet. I think that’s a gift Oberyn is worthy of.”

“Oh my love..." Ellaria cooed softly as she sat beside Oberyn, her hands brushing your curls off your damp forehead. Her nimble fingers smoothed back the baby's soft curls. He was so quiet, so beautiful. A beautiful combination of yourself and Oberyn.

Oberyn begged to name him and who were you to withhold it. And so now as he takes the bundle of life swaddled in the softest of blankets in Dorne. His eyes scrunched tight, silent gurgles that pull at his heart. He rbrings his son to his face to place a kiss upon his forehead.

"Orion, my first and beloved son" Oberyn breathes.

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x ellaria sand x reader #oberyn martell x black!reader #marie antoinette!reader #ellaria x reader #ellaria sand x reader

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oh-saints · 1 year

Text

sweetest devotion (pt. 5)

everything was sort of a wake-up call for mason mount and he was now questioning every of his decision he'd made, he makes, and he'll make.

playboy!mason x princess!OC

tw: as mentioned in the masterlist only, but particularly extramarital affair to a marriage of convenience and mentions of violence in this chapter

wc: 2.7k

note: I'M FINALLY BACK! and as i’ve promised previously, here’s some happ(ier) updates for you guys! indented & italics part were flashback. but as usual, i happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet.

tags: @pingyu-in-wonderland @ironmaiden1313 @myreveriie @808heartz <3 (lmk if you wanna be added!)

<<part 4 - part 6>> sweetest devotion masterlist here

as soon as elena stepped an inch outside of his property, mason didn’t think twice to slam the door shut and ran back inside to serena’s aide.

while she was well known for being dubbed calm beauty—in line with her majestic name inspired by the word serene—mason had never wanted someone to be boisterous it could hurt his ears. anything, really, other than the sight of serena, helplessly so, curled over to a foetal position in order to protect their baby.

their baby.

ironic how it was a life they created together yet serena was the only one protecting them and mason was the one who, despite the indirectness, had a hand in this entire ordeal. if it wasn’t because of mason, serena wouldn’t be lying on the floor, holding her bulging stomach whilst hiding her held-back grunts behind her gritted teeth.

this whole situation with his little family wasn’t the most ideal scenario but mason was anything but a murderer. his parents raised him better than that and yet, mason could easily have bloods in his hands just now.

mason could taste bile on the tip of his tongue, so bitter at the reality that—no matter however put—mason was the one who put two lives in danger tonight. fucking hell, mason didn’t even know the gender of his own flesh and blood yet.

“serena,” mason kneeled beside serena, trying to lift her up from the floor so he could get her some help in the speed of light. “serena, talk to me. how do you feel?”

mason’s question was only met by another pained grunt, followed by an erratic breathing pattern. he could sense serena was trying to control her breaths in between her cry for help.

“i need you to hang in there, okay?” mason had never been so lucky he was a footballer, accustomed by now to carry weights while running on a daily training basis, as he was reaching the door of his Lamborghini with her in his arms. “on scale 1 to 10, where are you?”

but as soon as the Chelsea star placed her down the passenger seat, serena cried out an eerily screeching shriek while her hands gripped the back of his neck on a death lock. mason’s ears were ringing in alert, his eyes looked everywhere for anything that could’ve possibly caused worse pain for serena.

as he looked down, he realised it could be anything because blood was already smeared everywhere—the leather seat, the dashboard, the sideboard, the floor of his car, the concrete floor of his garage… leading all the way back up to the house.

it was red all over and he’d never feared for having painted the town red.

it was red all over and he’d never feared for anything else than now.

“god, please,” serena wailed, tears running down her eyes now/ “please, make them stop.”

“I need you to hang in there, you got me?” mason’s hands were as fast as his feet on the pitch now, buckling her up while trying to soothe the back of her hand, the one cradling the protruding belly, in hope to reduce her stress. “you’ve been doing great so far, serena…”

the last line was honestly the red thread serena tried to hang her last bits of sanity left. because mason was right—she’d been doing well so far, despite all odds, and if she failed now, she’d only fail her only friend in this lifetime; her own baby. she had to make it.

serena’s deathly grip on mason’s free hand—as the other was holding the steering wheel—was the only thing that kicked off mason’s feet to push the pedal till the speedometer showed he’d breached the speeding limit. fuck repercussions, this was life and death.

the crispy screeching sound from his wild driving—drifting would be a better word choice, now that he’d thought about it—surprised the on-call doctors and hospital staffs. some immediately threw away their coffee and reached mason’s aide before he even called for help, and he was grateful for that because serena’s wailing certainly messed up his logical thinking at this point.

“what happened, sir?”

“she—”

mason didn’t know where to start in all honesty. and it was funny, the confusion, because he wanted to tell everything so serena could get the best treatment possible but mason’s mouth couldn’t seem to summon the words. why was that?

was it because he was afraid of people’s judgement towards her? towards them? towards their so-called arrangement? was it because he didn’t want people to know what he’d done to her? was it because he was ashamed that he was ultimately the source of her on-going pain? was it because he was afraid people would jail him for becoming a monster he’d never intended himself to be?

there’s also murderer who never intends to kill their victim in the first place, his father used to say whenever he gave lame excuses for not meaning things he said.

mason wanted to throw up. he truly had bloods in his hands. literally and figuratively.

how could he possibly be a father in this state?

“mr. mount,” someone tapped him by the shoulder, and only then did he realise they’d rolled away serena to another room. “I need you to tell me what happened to your wife.”

his wife. his fully, legally-wedded wife.

good god, he needed to puke.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“mr. mount,”

hours later, a nurse finally came by to reach him, who’d been sitting and staring at the white walls lifelessly for the past hour, waiting for any news from anyone that had taken serena into their custody and care. now that he was called, mason stood up immediately, the pathetic excuse of plastic chair squeaked at the sudden movement.

“how’s my wife?”

for someone who proudly claimed he doesn’t have a wife and only a mother to his child—to ben chilwell’s face, no less—mason’s tongue rolled the word perfectly. like it wasn’t his first time calling serena his wife in public. like he didn’t even have to practice them. like it was natural for him. like it was supposed to be.

“they’re waking her up right now, and the baby’s doing fine,” the nurse smiled and mason let out a bated breath he didn’t know he was holding. “you can see her in 15 minutes.”

but mason didn’t want 15 minutes. mason wanted to be the first person to see it himself that serena was okay, that their baby was okay, that they both were okay, and that he didn’t hurt either of them.

the forward player let out a relieved sigh when he reached the assigned room for serena, his eyes zeroed on the sight of the mother lying peacefully now. gone was the agony from her face, despite the whiteness casted all over the pretty face, and mason had never been more in peace than knowing that their baby was also doing okay.

at least for now.

the nurse checked up on them every now and then, making sure the IV drip was working fine, her overall condition was okay. some even reminded mason that he could leave briefly to grab the both of them some garbs, an older nurse even went as far as scolding him to wash up and change his bloody pyjama top.

but how could he leave serena behind when he knew his crazy girlfriend could come in and assault serena once more behind his back?

right, elena. the big, fat elephant in the room. what to do with her?

in all honesty, mason was still in disbelief. he wanted to say elena was lying—possessed even—but he’d seen it with his own eyes. he truly had a hard time digesting the reality where elena—his sweet elena, unable to kill even a spider—was capable of hurting someone. a pregnant lady, moreover, until she bleed her life out. for him, nothing made sense regarding this whole situation.

or was that elena’s true self, one that mason didn’t know of?

“mason,” serena groaned, breaking his train of thoughts. her throat must’ve been very sore. “water.”

without further ado, mason immediately ran for a glass of water outside, as well as informing a nurse—the entire nurse station was perhaps a better fitted word—and anyone who knew their real arrangement would’ve been surprised to see how responsive mason was to every of serena’s whim that day. a fake husband shouldn’t demand fiercely for someone to attend his fake wife as soon as possible on a lazy Sunday morning.

“do you need anything else?” mason asked when he got back from fetching his delivery order, despite the nurses’ adamant complaint towards the fact he kept providing serena the patient with things she wasn’t suppose to be having yet. “a pillow or anything?”

“no, I’ve had enough,” serena smiled meekly. “thank you, mason.”

mason could feel his lips tugging upwards by a bit. “you’re wel—”

“didn’t I tell you,” mason and serena looked up to the dramatic door opening, only to find her personal doctor barging in, obviously pissed at the situation at hand. despite not glancing the married couple a glance, the doctor’s expression said it all. “that the next time you’re assaulted again I’m going to hunt your husband down?”

mason’s chest fell heavier than the biggest rock found on earth as soon as his brain could register the next time and assaulted again in the same sentence.

“oh there he is,” the doctor exclaimed, rather sarcastic this time around, as she looked up from the clipboard she was holding. “looks like I don’t need hunting after all.”

in another circumstances, mason would probably have a clap back to the doctor’s jab. but he didn’t have it in him, not today, not after learning too much all at once. he didn’t even think he had the right space of mind to even nod at whatever the doctor was saying, everything just went off before his eyes like a shinkansen train.

“I need you to be honest with me, serena,” mason didn’t waste another breath after the doctor—finally—walked away from the pristine white room. “the doctor said next time. when was the first time?”

serena’s breath was caught in her throat. she didn’t think mason would pay attention to such detail, for he was looking at distance during the whole time the doctor was berating her.

“serena, I need you to answer me.”

serena had been in countless intense court and constitutional hearings full of intimidating men greedy for more power and they’d never been able to tackle her face first—thus her given dib of calm beauty—but this… the way eternal fire was blazing in mason’s eyes, full of determination, hatred, vengeance all at once. it was certainly something she’d never wish to be on the receiving end.

mason turned her into a coward desperate in need of hiding. the papers back in her country would have a field day if they found out about this.

“serena,” mason clicked his tongue, obviously annoyed at her silence. “I’m not in a very patient mood.”

angry and bothered mason was certainly not a sight and side serena would want to see of him again. “remember the one week you thought I went missing?”

mason’s breath immediately got stuck on the airway.

it didn’t take a genius to figure out the main takeaway for her answer, and mason had never felt more useless and more similar to a piece of shit at that moment. how could he not, when he remembered precisely he once harboured an ill thought that serena wasn’t taking their arrangement seriously when she was the mastermind behind the plan?

but right now wasn’t the perfect time to dwell on his misjudgement. as much as serena’s words invoked a churning feeling inside of him, mason needed to know everything. “what did she do to you?”

serena was visibly gripping the blanket beneath her palms, playing with the fabric, while her lips were pursed in deep thought. oh, how much penny mason would pay for her thoughts in this moment… did she hate talking about this? if she did, which part of the incident did she particularly hate? or did she just want to forget about his? worse, was she contemplating not to tell him at all like the first time it happened?

“she always comes at wee hours, drunk and asking for you,” always? mason could feel his brows curling in confusion. “she always comes on times whenever you’re staying over the night and she always asks for you. I never let her in because you’re obviously sleeping so she gets physical about it.”

elena always comes whenever I left her for his own home? mason had to remind himself to breathe, gathering himself because there was no way he could continue this conversation without cooling his hand but that was the last thing he’d want to impose serena, especially not in her current recovering state.

“always?”

he needed her to confirm his hearing didn’t fail him, and serena averting his gaze was the most important answer mason needed.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

if mason was living in an animated world, his head would’ve been drawn with blowing smoke coming out of his crown and ears, as he drove down a familiar lane he wouldn’t wish to visit again.

the smoke was blowing harder and darker as his feet grazed down the asphalt towards the house he only stepped in a day ago—how time changes everything was real in every sense of the word. and everything serena had recounted back at the hospital didn’t help his mood at all. in fact, the more he recalled what she said, the more he gained the courage to burn the house if he could.

why and how could he even muster up that vile of intention, he didn't know. but he didn't want to know now, that would be a question for another day.

“serena, why don’t you talk to me about this?” mason whispered when serena had done elaborating each and every sequence of her hidden pain, partly in disbelief she’d been enduring such mistreatment for far too long, partly in outmost proud because she’d manage to recall each and every incident and willing to share them with him. his hands were untangling hers, one by one, releasing the gnawing grip she held over the frail blanket. in his defence, he was finding a distraction from the burning wrath boiling inside of him, slowly but surely, targeting at one particular person he didn’t want to see now but realised he needed to face. “why are you doing all these?” the footballer continued, gently—unlike his true nature inside of him. “you could’ve told me.” “it does not matter—” “it does to me,” serena had to hold back an audible gasp when she saw the raw emotions mason was displaying through the clear, brown orbs. “I want to know why you’d do such thing, endangering our baby.” while mason certainly didn’t want to be held accountable for another flash of pain in serena’s eyes, even for a split second, he needed to say the words. he needed to know her ulterior motive for doing such thing—a bit peculiar to see a princess, all in her glory and power, choosing to glower under pressure for a mere peasant, no? mason could practically see the gears shifting in her brain, probably contemplating to choose to reveal the truth or to spike another lie. “because one of us deserves a happy ending and by the looks of it, it’s never going to be me.”

replaying that particular scene fuelled his anger more. that was apparent by the way he knocked on the door like a police trying to catch a criminal red-handed—ironic enough for mason to laugh inwardly.

“mason!” surprise and elation were two emotions were clearly painted on his mistress’ face as she opened the door. “I didn’t expect—”

but mason had only one thing in his mind and it aligned with his initial intention. “don’t ever come near my wife and my child again, you got me?”

gone was the happiness in elena’s face, washed away and was now replaced by huge devastation. mason had never seen someone sporting that particular emotion so clearly. “but mase—”

“you got me?”

elena didn’t say anything and mason doubted she’d give any response any time soon—probably hoping to stall mason longer around her—so he decided to take matters to his own hands.

“don’t ever come near my family again or I’ll see you at court.”

next chapter contains:

“serena,” mason remembered thinking her last comment was so ridiculous that he had to grasp her by the shoulders, before grazing her now slightly bulging belly when she’d stayed in place. “you’re the most useful person in this household.”

#oh-saints writes #mason mount #mason mount fic #mason mount series #mason mount x oc #mason mount story #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fics #mason mount angst #mason mount fluff #mason mount imagines #footballer x oc #footie fics #football fanfic

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 10 months

Text

💞

Summary: Steve realises he's in love with you, now he just has to tell you.

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Fluff.

Don't reuse, copy or repost my work.

❤️

It took Steve a while to realise he was in love with you.

With Nancy, he fell for her hard and fast but you were different.

He met you after Vecna's defeat, once The Upside Down and all the inhabitants-demobats, demogorgons, The Mindflayer were destroyed along with it.

So maybe it happened when you first started working at Family Video? The first time he met you was practically imprinted into his mind.

You were nervous, sarcastic at first and yet when you began to get to know him and Robin all that melted away.

You were funny, kind and could make him laugh when he needed it most. Just like Robin.

Unlike Robin, the two of you had a different relationship. For one thing it definitely wasn't Platonic with a capital P.

There was an underlying tension between you, touches that lingered between the two of you, loaded words and actions.

Maybe he fell for you during the nights that you spent with him, helping him through his nightmares about the Demobats.

The night terrors terrified him, he tried to hide it from Robin and the kids, Eddie talked to him about it and shared the nightmares that plagued him about his near death experience with the Demobats.

Despite Eddie trying to get him to open up, he kept his emotions bottled inside. He didn't want to worry the kids, so he pushed his feelings down, locked them away even though he knew he desperately needed to talk to someone.

His family were never the lovey dovey type, sharing emotions and fears. His father instilled in him from a young age that he had to act like a man and not the young boy he was.

"Tears are a sign of weakness and Harrington men don't show weakness son"

It was toxic bullshit but there was always a tiny part inside Steve- as much as he hated it-that wanted to make his father proud.

After many sleepless nights, reassuring Robin that he was okay, battling his rising emotions daily, it was you that broke down his facade.

You visited him at home, movies in hand and popcorn and ice cream in the other. It was an impromtu movie night you told him.

During Back to the Future you turned to him and gently interlaced your fingers with his.

"Steve, I'm here. You can talk to me anytime okay? You're exhausted and hiding how you feel and that's not healthy. If you need to vent, cry, anything at all, then just know you can talk to me''

That night he told you everything about what happened in Hawkins the last few years.

Everything from the first demogorgon he faced with Nancy and Jonathan, El, all the way to being tortured by the Russians and finally to the the demobat attack and defeating Vecna/The Upside Down.

You listened patiently, shocked but not suprised. Hawkins has seemed strange for years now, all the unexplained phenomena and deaths.

Being with you, the way that you were so gentle with him, how your hand never left his, talking about all the trauma he had been through pushed him over the edge.

For years he had looked after others, never giving himself time to process anything he had been through.

That night he cried for the first time in a long, long time.

You stayed with him and held him and after that the nights got a little easier when you were with him.

❤️

He finally realised he was in love with you a few weeks ago. After a string of just bad dates that didn't work out.

When he was talking to the women he dated there was an ache inside him that grew stronger. Honestly he just wanted to be with you.

How he didn't know sooner was a mystery according to Robin.

"You look at her like she's an angel on earth, like she hung the moon. Seriously Steve? Dustin is right do you need to be told everything?'' Robin exclaimed looking completely exasperated.

He scowls and ignores her comment, anxiety blooms inside him, he feels jittery and the fact that Tate Andrew's is in the store and flirting heavily with you only makes his mood worse.

Jealousy gnaws at him and he knows he has to make a move but the thought you might not feel the same way concerns him.

"What if she doesn't feel the same way Robin? We're friends, I don't want to ruin that'' she a softens and pats his arm.

"Steve, she looks at you the exact same way as you look at her, all longing and wistful. Take a chance. Don't be a dingus"

Tonight, he will tell you tonight.

💖

Okay, so telling you tonight didn't work out so well, nor did the fact the two of you were fighting right now.

You had a date with Tate and Steve stupidly let his jealously get the better of him when you told him.

The fact you even came to his house after the date suprised him. However, you were still very pissed off and the argument resumed.

"It's hardly fair that you get so annoyed at me going on a date when you go on like a million dates Steve. Double standard much?"

Steve didn't know what to say back to that, tried not to notice how beautiful you looked even when you were furious with him.

"They didnt mean anything, shit they were terrible. You know that" for a brief second you calm down but then you're eyes flash with pain and he moves closer to you concerned.

"Because they aren't Nancy?" he is taken aback by this, he talked to Nancy months ago and they cleared the air, renewed their friendship and agreed they were better off as friends.

They both realised a relationship would never work between them, they wanted different things.

Why were you bringing Nance up?

"What? This isn't about Nancy, I don't want Nancy" He notices the way the pain leaves your features when he says this.

"You're right, this isn't about Nancy. So let me ask why you were so against me going out tonight?" he swallows feeling himself clam up when you ask this.

"I... shit, you know how protective I am over you and...'' He trails off, Shit! This isn't how he planned this to go.

"That's all this is about? Because you're protective?" You ask him and he runs his hand through his hair, takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

"No, that's not all" He can't focus because you're so close to him and he can smell your perfume, feel heat rise in his skin as you touch his arm.

"Then what is it?" You're voice is gentle but there is a touch of curiosity, a little bit of exasperation.

"Because I love you okay? I'm in love with you, Robin said you felt the same but obviously you don't so I've just made an ass of myself" he finally let's it out and it's a relief to say it, even if you don't feel the same for him.

Nerves fill him, you gently cup his cheek and his eyes meet yours.

"You love me?" you whisper and he nods, his heart is pounding in his chest. Then you kiss him and all his fears melt away.

"Yeah, I do" He replies as he pulls you closer to him and presses a kiss to your hand.

"I love you Steve, the date with Tate was terrible, all I could think about was you" He rests his head on top of yours.

All the tension he has felt all day just melts away. He has his girl and he feels on top of the world.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you

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enigmatist17 · 3 months

Text

Part 1 - AU where Angel comes to help Spike after he escapes from the Initiative

-----

Buffy and Riley didn't notice as Cordelia slowly closed her phone and stood, one hand nervously swiping some imaginary strands of hair from her eyes.

"Cordelia? Is something the matter?" Wesley asks, currently bouncing back and forth between research texts with Giles.

"Um...Riley, is it?" Buffy and Riley look up from their conversation, the soldier a bit confused by the woman he'd only met a few days ago looking at him with concern? Disgust?

"Yes ma'am, how can I help?"

"You uh, wow you're really just like cardboard." Cordelia shook her head, and pressed on before he could express his offense. "So fun fact, Angel's coming, and you need to stick close to Buffy because he's totally going to rip your throat out if you piss him off." She finished with a grin, the room going silent as everyone stared at Cordelia and Riley.

"On a level of general irritation to dealing with Wolfram, how angry are we talking?" Wesley asked suspiciously as Giles headed for his defense stores.

"Like Doyle... like Doyle angry." Cordelia gripped her phone for a moment as her voice trembled before shaking her head. "Says he wants to talk, but you know how temperamental he can be."

"You're being nicer than usual."

"You got here fast." Wesley swallows thickly, the sight of Angel practically materializing in Giles' kitchen making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "Is Sp-"

"Yes." The answer is more a growl than an actual response, and his eyes scan the room before fixating on Riley.

"We are talking, right?" Buffy had moved between the two men, and for a moment the two lock eyes before Angel shrugs, crossing his arms.

"You know Hos- the guy who escaped?" Riley bit his tongue, watching eyes colder than anything he'd ever experienced in training lock onto him.

"What did you do to him."

"Me? Nothing." Riley winced as he stumbled over his words, extremely uncomfortable that the vampire could probably hear the beating of his heart increasing as those eyes just stared.

"You should tell him." Buffy's voice is light, but both men are well aware that she's stamping down as much of her frustration as possible, so Angel slowly uncrosses his arms.

"Buffy I can't just tell one of them-"

"What can't you tell little old me?" Angel's lip twitched in a barely repressed snarl, and before Riley could move for the pistol strapped to his thigh, someone loudly cleared their throat.

"As much as I am loving this whole macho manly man dick measuring contest, we need to play nice now." Cordelia gives her brightest smile as all eyes shoot to her, and Angel to everyone's chagrin looks embarrassed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as Giles barely hides his chuckle with a forced cough.

"Man, I need some popcorn." All eyes turn toward the now open door as Xander walks in, freezing in place with Willow curiously peeking from behind his shoulder.

"Hey guys, welcome to the shit show." The two finished entering Giles' home as Riley sits back down with Buffy, constantly looking toward the far corner of the room, where Angel had joined Wesley to quietly murmur about something.

"Nice to see Deadboy hasn't really changed." Xander, helpful as ever quipped, earning an annoyed look from the vampire in question. "But Cordy, you look..."

"Amazing? I know." The brunette smiled, and despite their rocky departure, it's not long before she draws him to the couch to catch him up on everything she's done in L.A.

"H-Hi Angel, hi Wesley." Turning to his left, Angel is surprised to see Willow standing near his side, trying to look at the book they were rifling through.

"Hello Willow." The aspiring witch gave a smile, and her hands fiddle with a small pouch.

"Pleasure to see you again." The former Watcher gave a small bow and looked at what was in her hands. "May we help you with something?"

"I uh, I can help you." Willow held out the pouch, and Angel carefully accepted it with a raised eyebrow. "I um, I read up about vampires who get hurt, o-or starved, because that's what Spike is like right now? So, I found these different herbs and stuff, a-and if you mix it in the blood you give him, it should help accelerate his healing."

"You did this for him?" Angel is surprised as he opens it, seeing varying bags filled with dried powders labeled for a feeding schedule.

"I may not like him, n-not that it's like a bad thing, but no one deserves to be starved, you know?"

"...thank you, this is very sweet of you." Angel's praise was soft, making Willow blush a little bit, and he gently reached out to squeeze her shoulder.

"L-Let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

"Will do." He nodded, and Willow wandered off to join Xander on the couch.

"She's still such a lovely girl." Wesley hummed, glancing down at his books.

"That she is." Angel shook the bag before closing it back up, stowing it in his breast pocket for later. "Was Cordy really worried that I was going to hurt the kid?"

"Well, yes?" Wesley coughed, avoiding his gaze. "Angel, may I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." Angel leaned against the closest wall with his arms crossed.

"You hate Spike, don't you?" Wesley began cautiously, heart thudding in his chest as he kept his gaze away. "You're quite upset with his state however, helping him despite the fact he nearly tried to kill you, so I must ask...why?"

"Hate is not the word I'd use." Angel sighed, closing his eyes briefly as Wesley watched without a word. "As much as he's done a lot to cause pain and irritation, Spike is family, the blood we share supersedes everything. I can't explain it in ways you'd understand, but he's a childe of mine, and I just...have to help."

"I'd say I understand, but for the most part I don't." The former Watcher winced as he scrambled for the right words. "You know I follow where you lead."

"I know, and I really can't thank you both for leaving everything to come with." Angel gave him a small smile, missing the look of surprise from Buffy across the room.

"Speaking of Mr. Hair dye, what are we going to do with him?" Cordelia asked, the conversation with Xander and Willow having trailed off as both men looked over. "I mean, I don't think we can exactly leave him here, not with the government doing all their...wait, what are you doing anyways?" Cordelia looked behind her, Riley once again squirming in discomfort.

"We -" He glanced over at Buffy, who just squeezed his hand. "I can't disclose government information to civilians."

"We don't need a whole dossier." Angel crossed his arms, his words twinged with a growl that had everyone sitting up a but straighter. "What. Do. You. People. Do."

"Learn about the enemy." Riley's response is terse, and he's trained his gaze on the floor.

The silence could cut through steel.

"By any means necessary, right?" Willow crossed her arms as Giles did the same. "That's horrible."

"I just help keep the peace."

"By hunting down demons for capture." Angel filled in the blanks, rather unimpressed.

"...that's the crux of it."

The silence dominates once more.

-----

The sounds of the shower alert Angel Spike is once again awake when he returns shortly before dawn, the older drawing curtains closed to make sure the main area was kept from the sun. His jacket is slung over the back of the couch, the torn duster carefully spread over the coffee table and cleaned at the least, judging by some blood-soaked gauze tossed to the side. Angel scoops up the trash and tosses it before going to the half-emptied duffle from earlier, pulling out the several types of sewing kits and varying thread he'd scooped up earlier to place them beside the familiar jacket.

"Reckon I can fix it."

"Most likely." There's a small grunt of acknowledgment as Spike retreats back into the bedroom, Angel moving to get himself a mug and Spike two of blood. The powder Willow had given him mixed in with ease, and by the time Spike returned with clothes that shouldn't have been loose, Angel is offering his mug.

"Cheers." Spike raised in before his face changed with a slight wince, looking down at the blood in hesitation before bringing the cup to his lips and taking a large sip. Whatever reservations there could have faded when Spike chugs, reaching for the second mug before he has enough time to set down the first.

"Ease up, I'm not cleaning up vomit." Angel rolls his eyes when the other gives a grumpy growl, but slows down as his grandsire scoops up the empty mug and takes it to the sink.

"Dunno what's in this, tastes bloody amazin'." The smaller man hums, one hand snatching Angel's jacket and draping it over himself like a blanket.

"Healing powder, though I don't think it tastes like anything." Spike grumbles something he can't quite hear, but a quick peek shows that the other keeps drinking. "Do you need more?"

"No, likely going to be sick if I do." Spike is lying, he could drink for days, but his stomach decides it doesn't want to listen as it roils at the first decent meal in ages. "Bloody soldiers."

"I met one, dating Buffy of all people." Angel tries to not sound irritated, but Spike giggles. "He hasn't said much. Yet."

"You'll make him sing, peaches." Spike sets the mostly drained cup on the coffee table before tucking his legs underneath the coat.

He's so bloody tired.

"I know I will." Angel isn't much warmer than he is, Spike's mind supplies, but it feels like the arm that magically appears around his shoulder is as warm as the sun. "You need to rest."

"Can't, not for long." Spike mumbles, rubbing his cheek against Angel's shirt unconsciously. "They'll find me..."

"No, they won't." The pompous voice is so soft, so gentle, and Spike wonders what he's done to deserve it. "You can rest, I'll be on the lookout."

"You can't lookout for shit." Spike tries to keep his eyes open, but the task is herculean.

"I'll get by." There is the soft voice again, and now a hand is running through his curly hair. "Sleep."

For once, Spike listens.

#buffy the vampire slayer #angel the series #spike #spike btvs #angel #angel btvs #cordelia chase #wesley wyndam pryce #xander harris #willow rosenberg #rupert giles #riley finn #spangle #angel x spike #season 4

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bearsinpotatosacks · 4 months

Text

I wrote a snippet of Bones welcoming some new Starfleet medical cadets. I'm not sure exactly how training works for Starfleet doctors, but after watching ER, I get the idea that it works mostly the same. Start training, do your rotations as a third year medical student, but I like to imagine that once you've chosen your area, surgery, psych, etc, you have to do a rotation on each kind of Starfleet vessel. Maybe they start on a starbase, then go to small ships that may or may not need your specialisation, then end up on some of the big ships such as the Enterprise. Enjoy!

Words: 1136

Looking at the group of fresh faced cadets in front of him, he knew that coffee wasn’t going to be enough. He hated when they hosted cadets. Partially because the little fuckers didn’t leave him alone when he was working, anything and everything he did was ripped apart and he couldn’t walk for two seconds without some question that a stupidly simple answer. The other reason was that they didn’t pester him anywhere near enough when they were off duty. It was like they were trying to pack all their questions into their eight hour shift and then were too scared to hold break their silence.

Part of the journey of being a medical student, at least in his opinion, was pestering your mentors. You had to really get on their nerves because no matter how much it pissed him off, he knew that they had to learn somehow. And the ones who disregarded his gruff exterior, who plucked up the courage to ask him questions ten minutes after he’d woken up, or ten minutes before he was going to bed, were the ones who he answered. Not the fifth one in a row who’d stopped him as he went to go and check on a scan for a patient. There was a time and place for bothering him and these cadets never seemed to learn when that was.

“Welcome to your rotation on board a constitution class vessel,” he said, not bothering to put any effort into the script they gave him to say. “This is where you’ll learn about the vital part you play, yada yada yada, be on the cutting edge of discoveries, yada yada yada, and face the final frontier.”

He rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his coffee. “Now that the mandatory stuff’s out of the way, here’s your real induction.”

The cadets looked at each other confused. Ah, so naive, they didn’t know about his reputation yet. Good, he wanted them to be shocked when they learnt how he really was.

“Real induction, sir?” One of the cadets, who looked unnaturally groomed for someone standing in a sickbay, said.

He held up a finger and stopped the cadet before he continued. “First rule of sickbay, no one is sir, especially me, if you call me sir, I will not answer.” They seemed more puzzled. “You can call me Doctor, but that might get confusing fast, McCoy, Leonard, Len, or any number of curse words or well divised nicknames that I have no doubt the nurses will teach you in your time here, will suffice.”

They wrote that down. He almost laughed, but decided against it, he didn’t want to confuse them any further. Seeing them all so fresh faced was rather jarring for someone like himself. Medicine was in his blood, so to speak, it felt like a lifetime ago that he was in their place, all squeaky clean. Yet again, he hadn’t trained in Starfleet. And that was another point.

“Who can hazard a guess as to why I don’t like being called sir, or by my rank for that matter?”

Scanning the crowd, he didn’t see any hands popping up. Disappointing, he at least expected one person to be enough of a swot to look into the crew of the Enterprise. None of them were surprised when they saw Jim was their Captain, or Spock was XO, yet none of them did research into the department they were going to work in?

A sigh was on his lips as a cadet, near the back with her hair suitably tied out of her face, raised her hand.

“Yes, Ms?”

“Cotteril.” She answered. “Is it because you didn’t train with Starfleet?”

“Bingo! I trained in Atlanta, Georgia, and despite the wonders we’ve made in socio-economic policies in the last few hundred years, some places remain rough, and nowhere else is that seen than in large cities. So trust me when I say, I am a doctor more than I am an officer of Starfleet, and I expect every single medical professional who works on this ship to follow that same rule of code.”

He stopped with the half hearted attempts at humour and made sure to stare across the group. A few of them gulped, some were either confused, or others annoyed.

“My father, god rest his soul, was a doctor in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, so I learnt medicine in the best way you can, the messy way. My first experience in the medical field was helping a horse with a c-section because there ain’t no vet hospitals in the Appalachian Mountains, I can tell you that for free.” His accent was coming out now, it always did when he talked of his childhood home. “And I want you all to understand that when you walk into my sickbay you leave your politics at the door, understand?”

They didn’t reply.

“Excuse me, I thought I asked y’all a question.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“Good, because if you have Vulcan with a sprain and a Klingon bleeding out, I expect every one of y’all to pick the Klingon,” He gestured at them with his coffee mug, a splash got on the floor. “So, repeat after me, the Hippocratic Oath is my Prime Directive.”

“‘The Hippocratic Oath is my Prime Directive’” The group chorused.

He nodded at them again, “Good, you may now step into sickbay.”

Turning around he gestured for them to follow. He’d never say the q-word, but he was grateful that there weren’t a lot of people in today. The last thing he needed was some part of engineering breaking and causing an overflow of red shirts. They weren’t the best of friends, engineers and those in sickbay, and it wouldn’t be such a problem if they knew some kind of first aid down there.

“I will give you a full introduction of staff when we do rounds, but first I'll give you lesson number two of serving in the Enterprise sickbay,” he turned on his heel to face them. “Do not disrespect a nurse. Not only because they do some of the most vital and downright disgusting jobs there are to do, they set up the beds, machinery, administer the drugs, take samples and bathe the crew when the replicators malfunction and start spewing rotten fish guts in the mess hall, don’t laugh that happened last Tuesday, but also because if you do you will get doing rectal exams for most of your time here while also, most definitely, getting a mystery hypo that will make your dick turn purple, if you have one, or make you grow one if you don’t, and you won’t even feel it either. Understand?”

Yet again, more confused faces. One cadet was looking down at his trousers, concerned.

“Excellent, now for the tour.”

-----

Take this an early WIP wednesday, I guess? I'm not sure if this will go anywhere apart from this snippet, but it could. I mainly just had this scene fully written in my head this morning and finally had a chance to write it.

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