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velvette-creations · 2 months

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Infinite Hope

House of the Dragon: Addam of Hull x fem!reader, Hugh Hammer+ fem!reader (platonic)

Rating: Teen

WC: 2.4 k

Prompt: Words of Affirmation for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Death (if Ulf has no haters I’m dead), canon smudging

Summary: You and your Uncle arrive at Dragonstone, in hopes of claiming a dragon and you bond with Addam

Hunger pains gnaw deep in your belly as you slowly slip on the broth to satiate it. Food is scarcer these days, and whatever you come across, you give willingly give to your Uncle Hugh and his wife, Kat, to nourish themselves and your sickly niece. Yet it is proven all for naught as she passes away within a sennight. What sort of king allows his people to starve? You set the empty clay bowl aside and stare down at your dirty hands as salty tears splash onto the mottled flesh. You hunger for more than food to fill your aching belly. This could not be the life your grandmother had imagined for you.

You once had a mother with the same burgundy eyes and sienna skin you possessed and a father from your distant memories with hair of spun silver. When they died, you were placed in your grandmother’s care, who had the same silvery hair. She had been all you had known until you met your Uncle. As the past blurred in your mind, you wondered if your father had looked just like him. Saera was slowly succumbing to the passage of time, using a cane as an aide to get around the pleasure house she owned. You heard the whisperings…that your mother, too, had been a whore, and that is why your grandmother had taken pity on you. Might you follow in their footsteps one day? Perhaps there were worse fates.

The light is dull in Saera’s violet eyes. Once a great beauty, not even she could escape the weathered hands of times. It is harder for her to breathe these days, and she does not leave the bed.

“Please, Hugh, look after her,” she whispers as she holds her son’s hand.

“I promise, Mother,” he says solemnly as he slowly casts his gaze over to you in the corner, your knees pulled tightly to your chest as you try to hide your weeping.

“Take her to King’s Landing, give her a good life, one befitting of a Targaryen. Bastard or not, you hold noble blood, Hugh,” she said, her voice strained and hard as she pressed a bag of coin into his rough hands.

She passed that evening as Hugh held you in his arms. He kept his promise and took you to King’s Landing by ship, but a good life was hard to find there. You began to wish he had left you behind.

You glance up as Hugh enters your small abode, and there is an odd look in his eyes. Though perhaps it is merely the weight of his daughter’s death still lingering.

“What is it?” you question, rising to your feet and brushing off the dust that clings to your filthy, tattered dress.

“Queen Rhaenyra has summoned those with Targaryen blood to test their claim to a dragon,” he explains, and hope pounds in your chest, a feeling so long dead that the ignition of it feels foreign. “I am hoping you will accompany me to Dragonstone, niece. You have as much of a chance as I do. Can you imagine?”

“Claiming a dragon? I remember the stories,” you smile.

“As do I. She wanted a better life for you, and I failed in such respect, but maybe the tide is turning in our favor.”

“You did your best, Uncle,” you assure him, resting your hands on his massive shoulders.

“So you will come with me?”

“Indeed I will.”

You wander the halls of Dragonstone, unable to sleep. You had taken advantage of the warm bath offered, your skin scrubbed clean, the faint hint of rose clinging to it, and your silver hair combed and braided. One could certainly get used to this. Your hands trace along the ancient glyphs carved into the stone walls, wondering what they said. You had once heard your grandmother speak in a tongue you did not understand. Was this the same one? It was strange not knowing of your histories.

“Can’t sleep?” a voice asks, and you nearly jump out of your skin, whirling around to face the person it came from.

“Afraid not,” you admit, approaching him slowly. There are a few smoldering torches in the braziers, allowing you a better look at his face. His smile is quite dazzling, and he reminds you of the home you left behind long ago.

“I am Addam,” he introduces, giving a slight nod of his head.

You tell him your name as you stand before him. The two of you walk side by side through the dimly lit halls.

“Have you laid claim to a dragon?” you ask.

“Seasmoke claimed me, truth be told. Nearly frightened me to death as he chased me. I thought my legs might give out from all the running.”

A smile breaks across your face as you glance up at him. “One cannot blame you. I think the first instinct when a dragon chases you would be to run, yet now you are his rider.”

“And I would assume you are here hoping for that as well.”

“To claim a dragon….would be everything to me. My grandmother was a Targaryen princess, banished by her wicked father of a King because she did not wish to abide by the traditional rules of women,” you explain.

“Goodness, I fear there is much I do not know of the Targaryens,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“I only know the little my grandmother told me, and I’m certain some of it was biased, but I do not blame her for that. It seems cruel what her father did,” you reply, sitting with him on the stone steps as moonlight streams through the windows.

“Fathers are…rather complicated,” Addam sighs. You gently rest your hand on top of his, all too familiar with the complicated feelings of family.

“Do you happen to know where the kitchens are?” you ask after a moment of silence.

“I do, why?”

“I’m feeling rather peckish.” You could hardly believe the feast Rhaenyra had provided to those who answered her query. Part of you felt guilty for imbibing while those back home struggled, but you silently promised to help them when you could.

“Come then,” he grins, offering you his hand.

You take hold of him willingly, allowing him to whisk you off through the dark halls, laughter echoing off the walls. The apple is crisp under your teeth, bursting force a sweet nectar when you take a generous bite. You do not wish to be greedy, but how it soothes the hunger that still sits deep in your belly. Addam escorts you back to your room and places a kiss upon your cheek, making heat spread across your face. You never had time to entertain such notions, but you find yourself enjoying his company a great deal, even if only for a short span.

“May you be lucky in your endeavors tomorrow. Perhaps we will both be on dragonback soon,” he smiles before wishing you goodnight.

You snuggle under the warm duvet, saying a silent prayer that you and your Uncle are able to claim a dragon. Butterflies flap in your stomach as you brush your fingers across your cheek, feeling the lingering remains of Addam’s kiss. Finally, you are able to sleep.

Trepidation hangs heavy in the air as the group follows Queen Rhaenyra into the mouth of the dragon pit. As she approaches the edge, you move closer to Hugh as you try to swallow your fear.

“Naejot māzīs, Vermitos,” she speaks clearly, and your eyes widen as the Bronze Fury approaches. Nothing could have prepared you for the size of him. Hugh’s hand presses against yours, and fingers furl together as you squeeze him tightly. You both may very well die together today. How the queen’s hand rests on the enormous beast shows how much power she possesses as she demonstrates no fear.

A timid man approaches the great beast, and chaos soon erupts. Flames scorch through the air as people run screaming. Hugh keeps hold of your hand, pulling you behind him and keeping you out of harm’s way. Fire singes your skin and hair, and you wish to scream, but nothing comes out; you just keep moving as your life depends on it, for it truly does. Hugh moves you behind a large rock next to a frightened woman, and you shake as the dragon approaches. Pain pulsates on the back of your neck, and you press your hand there to feel rough, tender skin. You are burned.

The three of you run, with Hugh pushing you toward an opening that leads deeper into the pits as he distracts Vermithor from annihilating the woman. You press against the stone, peering out as you watch the Bronze Fury lower before your Uncle. He has done it; he has done it! A man rushes past you, tripping along the way in terror as he descends toward the opening. You follow after him, taking hold of a torch as you slowly navigate down the rocks.

“Wait!” you call after him, rushing to keep up with him as screams fill your ears in the aftermath of Vermithor’s destruction. You collide with the back of him as he stands dead in his tracks. “What are you doing?” you hiss and follow his gaze, clamping your hand over your mouth as you spot the great silver beast blending in with the stones of the cave.

The man pushes you away, stumbling about in fear as his booted foot sinks through a slimy mound. The beast lifts its head and crawls closer as you crouch in front of the mound, marveling at the glittering scaled eggs nestled safely inside, unscathed and unarmed. You placed your torch down and cradle one in your hands. You close your eyes and wince as you hear the man’s scream before feeling the heated blast of the dragon’s flame. When you turn, cradling the egg against your chest, you are unsurprised to find his body gone. It’s become all too apparent that dragons prefer to roast their meat before eating.

The dragon’s head tilts in your direction, eyes slowly blinking as it moves closer. If you are to die, you will not do so as a coward, and you remain firmly in place as you lift your gaze upward.

“Your eggs are safe, it seems,” you murmur, feeling foolish talking to an ancient creature as such, and lift the egg toward the dragon’s muzzle. The golden eyes close as the beast nudges the egg, emitting a low bray.

The dragon’s head lowers before you, sizing you up before letting out a heated breath that nearly shakes you from your spot. Its muzzle presses against your belly, and with a trembling hand, you caress the beast’s curved horns. Your wits slowly return, and you realize this is the dragon your grandmother oft spoke of—the one her mother, Queen Alysanne, rode, Silverwiing.

You return the egg to its safe, albeit semi-destroyed nest and are startled when Silverwing’s muzzle bumps into your back, causing you to shift forward.

“You are certainly playful. Have you been lonely?” you hum, turning to pet her once more as she lowers her body and extends her wing. You take this as an invitation to mount her.

Your laughs ring through the air as you climb onto the dragon’s back, sinking into the saddle and taking hold of the reigns. Power surges through your veins. Silverwing climbs among the rocks before slithering through the cave's opening. You duck your head, and soon, she lifts you into the air. You shake but hold tightly to the reigns as she soars over Dragonstone. You have done it!

Silverwing lands on the beach, and your Uncle rushes to lift you in his arms, twirling you around as he did when you were a small girl. You cling to his neck as tears stream down your face. Your feet barely touch the ground before finding yourself in Addam’s embrace. His hand slips over the back of your neck, and you wince.

“Are you injured?” he asks, concern in his voice.

“Tis but a burn,” you brush off, the pain dulling, but you are sent to the Maester, an ointment applied to the area. It will scar, but it does not bother you. You wear it as a badge of honor.

Celebration rings through Dragonstone, and you indulge in the sweet Arbor gold, having never tasted such a delicious wine before. Minstrels fill the air with music, and you dance with Addam. His lips meld with yours, and time seemingly stands still. His kiss is sweet yet strong, and you enjoy it very much. It makes heat stir deep in your belly. You will invite him into your bed one night when your mind is clearer, but for now, you enjoy the heated kiss and the feeling of his large hands on your waist.

As the days pass on Dragonstone with Prince Jaecaerys and Lady Baela instructing you in dragon riding, you feel caught in a dream. You learn to roll the High Valyrian commands off your tongue with ease. You enjoy taking to the sky with them and Addam, the four of you racing each other. Silverwing is slender and quick and likes to show off. Not that you fault her, she is a beauty hidden away for too long. Knighthood is bestowed upon Addam, and your uncle, and you couldn’t be prouder. You are also provided with crafted armor, coin, and training.

“Congratulations, it is well earned,” you smile at Addam, cupping his face.

“It means if I marry you, you will be a lady,” he grins. That blasted heat is again in your cheeks.

“And do you…wish to marry me?” you whisper, gazing into his dark eyes. Your thumb grazes across the smoothness of his mahogany cheek. He is finer than any prince you imagined in your dreams as a small girl.

“You have held my heart for a while,” he admits.

“I would be happy to marry you when you ask me properly, of course,” you grin, watching a vast smile crack across his face.

Queen Rhaenyra hosts your wedding on Dragonstone. You marry on the beaches, the sand between your toes, with Seasmoke and Silvering circling overhead. Your Uncle pulls you into a tight embrace.

“It seems to me you fulfilled your promise, Uncle. You have helped me to find the very best life,” you whisper as his tears spill onto the shoulder of your violet gown, a gift from the queen you serve loyally.

“We have helped each other, and now we fly on the dragons of our ancestors. We would have made Saera very proud.”

“I am proud of us, Uncle.”

Threats still loom in the distance, but for now, there is peace, and you will play your part in securing the throne for your queen. Your only thought for now is consummating your wedding night with your beloved husband.

#fic: hotd #sweetspicyhc #addam of hull x reader #addam of hull #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #addam velaryon x reader #addam velaryon #hugh hammer x reader #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf imagine #asoiaf fic #hugh hammer

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tremendum · 4 months

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Mr. Miller's Injury ; Mr. Miller viii

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. [18+. mdni] word count: 7.8k summary: ❝"you aren't doing anything, Mr. Miller," you tilt your head, bending to fit level with his face. "if you recall, you're too injured to even leave the bed."❞ warnings: storm vibes, fairly tame compared to other parts, being stood up, dom!reader, sub!joel (FINALLYYYY), brief slapping, injured!Joel, anger, spitting, brief edging, choking, PiV unprotected, this is porn with no plot, masturbation, slight voyeurism, begging, degradation, age gap kink if you squint, calling joel 'old man', v brief praise kink, lots of pet names SORRY notes: thank u all for ur patience, it's been SO LONG. I am sorry this isn't the longest update but i hope you still enjoy! switching things up a bit bc they're learning to Talk about their Feelings <3 finally <3 there will be another update v v soon as well!!! hope you all enjoy. [previous. this is part eight of the Mr. Miller series.] [masterlist]

[important - i no longer use a taglist. I've made a notifs blog - @tremendumnotifs - for ppl to follow for notifications. tysm!!] ★

to say you're pissed is an understatement.

forty-five minutes, you huff as you stare at the ground, forty-five minutes standing alone, looking like a fool in this fucking dress.

the rain sloshes down on you, sending muddy streams down the sidewalk and under your boots to kiss the streetwater. it's been raining for days - ever since that black out the other night, it's barely let up; you're getting permanently used to your hair heavy from the drops. you glare sharply down at yourself, watching as sheets of water slap against your soaked corduroy jacket - the vibrant thread that sewed it together again all those weeks ago wilted by the water. you pull your jacket tighter over yourself, as if that could help at all.

you shouldn't fucking be out here right now, getting soaked to the bone.

sighing harshly, you squint up the street to your own house, lights off and waiting sadly; when you'd left, you'd expected not to return until the morning, anyways.

but here you are, an hour later, dateless and more furious than you've been in ages.

you feel like a fucking idiot.

serves you right for trusting that Joel would bother to put on a nice button-up and walk down to the bar to see you.

you try not to glare against the rain when you pass his house; the lights are glowing from the upstairs window, and your blood boils - he's probably in there sitting around doing nothing because he's too terrified to be a man and face you in person. the bitter taste in your mouth only grows at your brief concern - you didn't see him yesterday at all, but you'd just assumed he was on patrol.

you're about fifteen steps away from your your front door, already planning on downing a whole bottle of liquor in your bathtub by the time you hear it.

someone shouting your name.

turning your neck, you spot Ellie, waving her arm from only twenty feet away; the onslaught of drops has quickened, and you can't hear what she's saying. gritting your teeth, you trudge over to her, trying to hide your exasperation, "what's going on?"

"been looking for you!" is what she shouts as you walk towards her, shouting through the rain. "-just asking where you've been lookin' like that." she gestures to your dress, one definitely meant to wear at backyard barbecues and not in the middle of torrential downpours. she pulls you by the wrist onto their porch; the lights flicker slightly and it's just barely less dry - you ignore the wall behind you, thinking back to all those months ago when Joel'd had his cock shoved down your throat with your head pressed up against it.

you blink away the memory, anger simmering in your stomach; you ignore the heat in your abdomen.

"I had plans." you grunt, crossing your arms. her brows raise doubtfully; so full of sass for a teen. "you seen Joel lately?" you ask, hoping to sound nonchalant; she must pick up on the anger that flows from you; frowning, she jerks her head, "seen him? that's why I was lookin' for you. I've been babying him all day."

you stare at her, lifting a brow. "babying?" you parrot.

she frowns, tilting her head; the water sprays in a mist onto you, out of the direct exposure but still splattering fat sheets of rain onto your ankles. "didn't Tommy tell you?" she asks, but you're nearly out of patience.

you sigh sharply, "no, I haven't seen Tommy. been busy all day at the gardens dealin' with this shit."

this shit has been stressing you out beyond belief - a near monsoon in fucking Wyoming, drowning the crops you very desperately need for the commune. root rot is one thing, but losing all the food you'll need for months is something else.

"well, neither have I, but if you see him, tell him I could use a hand with his brother." Ellie sasses, arms crossing. for a moment, you nearly laugh - she's standing like Joel, a look of defiance in her eyes. she huffs, "I've been trying to keep Joel in bed, but you know how stubborn he can be. he got injured on patrol yesterday."

a flicker of concern betrays the anger in your heart. you blink at Ellie. "injured? he's injured?"

she glances towards the door then back at you, her own shirt pelted with rainwater. "he dislocated his shoulder. it's pretty bad."

you let out an exasperated sigh; that's where he's been? fucking injured and didn't bother to tell you? you purse your lips, feigning calm as you actively fight off the sense of embarrassment at your own irritation. "I can help you, don't worry." you promise, wishing you'd had a chance to change out of the dress. "if you want a break, I'll make sure he doesn't kill himself for a while." even if you wish he would.

she smiles, nodding as she turns on her heels, "thank you - you know how he is. didn't even mention he was hurt 'til I found him trying to hide it. been trying to tough it out, I guess."

you follow her into the house, gritting your teeth as you wring water out of your hair. "unbelievable," you mutter under your breath.

Joel is lying in his bed.

You resist the arousal that climbs at the vision of him outstretched in bed, propped perfectly on a pillow, hair grown out and curling; instead seething with irritation at him.

"what the hell is this, Miller?" you say in lieu of a greeting, crossing your arms the second he makes eye contact with you. he's surprised to see you, but not as surprised as you'd hoped.

he looks as terse as ever, eyes darting from you to Ellie, who lingers in the doorway. he grunts, shifting slightly and wincing. "hurt m'self."

you resist a laugh of disbelief, smiling sarcastically, "I can see that."

he is too fucking stubborn - you're too fucking stubborn, too; there's a beat, then you give in, "you couldn't have sent someone to tell me not to show up? I looked like a complete dick down there by myself." you snap, wounded. he rolls his eyes, "well I sent her to ya, didn't I?" he snaps, gesturing to Ellie with his good hand. she shakes her head, throwing her hands up, "I don't want any part in...whatever this is."

she disappears after muttering something about finally getting some peace and quiet - it's silent until you hear her bedroom door slam, the rain pelting down against the windowpanes.

unable to hide any longer in the quiet, you cross your arms. he sighs. "look..." he mutters, wincing as he sits up slightly. "I'm sorry I couldn't find ya. y'don't deserve t'be sittin' alone by yourself like that."

you clench your jaw, nodding, "you're right, Joel. I'm sorry you're hurt, I understand, it's just-" your doubts creep back in and you shake your head. "I don't know what I thought." you chicken out, looking away.

you hear his breathing; it seems to move with your chest - a patient, quiet breath that waits for your anger to subside.

"this ain't 2003, sweetheart," he finally says, but there's a warmness in his voice; it is wholly familiar and foreign at the same time. "can't jus' text you to let y'know I fell and dislocated my shoulder." he sighs gruffy; you huff, walking closer to the bed. "yeah, that and if it was 2003, I'd still be learning to ride a bike."

his eyes are sharp on you - a reminder of that unspoken thing, that tension that lives between you and him, pushes you further "don't." he says lowly, eyeing you stormily as the rain forges on outside. "don't remind me of why I shouldn't be doin' this."

the hesitation that always lingers between you sneaks up like mist through a forest; you push at it, wading through until you're next to where he reposes in bed. you can't resist the smirk that plays at your lips. "you aren't doing anything, Mr. Miller," you tilt your head, bending to fit level with his face. "if you recall, you're too injured to even leave the bed."

he hums, eyes stirring with that playfulness that you never quite expect; he tilts his chin up and it's all you can do to not kiss the lips that part beneath you. "c'mere an' make me feel better then, would'ya?"

you lift a brow, letting your lips brush just over his cupid's bow, imbued with the thick hairs of his mustache. you shake your head gently; he thinks everything's fine after a measly sorry?

"really?" you whisper against his lips, "you expect me to come play nurse and give myself to you just like that?" you tut. a swirl of desire in your gut when his good hand slides up the back of your thigh, squeezing the round of your ass.

you hope he cannot see the goosebumps up your thighs at his touch.

"y'didn't even play nurse." he argues, tilting his head up at you. you cross your arms, unimpressed; he sighs sharply. "sweetheart, 'm sorry." he offers again. you roll your eyes, "whatever, Joel." you whisper, leaning close to him; the way he looks up at you is saccharine; revenge must be the only thing sweeter. an idea creeps into your mind; a taste of his own medicine.

you let your lips brush his, but then pull back slightly. "if I can wait for you, you can wait for me." you say, pressing a chaste kiss to Joel's lips. his eyes are no longer clouded in that warm brightness; no, he is cloudy with irritation. you bite back a grin as you pull away from him, eyeing the chair next to the bed. "the fuck's that mean?" he grunts, eyes hawkish as they travel with you, lowering until you're comfortable in the chair. you let his gaze travel the expanse of your legs; the dress you chose to wear to your date is soaked - it sticks to your thighs and reveals more than you'd expect - you don't shy away, though. when it's Joel, you can never shy away.

"what are you doin'?" he questions again, voice deep with growing interest.

you smirk sultrily, tilting your head as you hum, propping your foot just next to his leg, on display for his gaze.

you spread your legs gently, letting your hands explore the planes of the body you know so well; over your chest, you flick wet strands of hair away from your slick skin before skimming over your curves. a flicker of lightning in the window and Joel's eyes are darker than before; you hum, "I'm keeping you company, Joel." you simper, letting the strap of the dress slip slowly off your shoulder on one side, your hand traveling down your chest and imagining his own rough, calloused ones. "unless you'd prefer I leave?" you ask with a small pout.

"I'd prefer if you stop bein' a brat and get the fuck over here." he snaps; patience worn thin, you just smirk, knowing he's enjoying the display of your body for him in the dark room.

you slowly lift the hem of your skirt up, over your hips; his eyes hungrily devour the lace you wore - a treat for him at the end of your date, you'd thought - now teasing.

you make a show of slipping a hand into your underwear, gasping gently as your fingers slide through your folds. you flush at the arousal that has gathered there - there might be something to say about how turned on you get when you're pissed at Joel - yet you let yourself relax, gently moaning as you rub your sensitive clit with one finger.

Joel sits up, his eyes dark and lip caught between his teeth as he watches you; he winces slightly, but ignores the pain, “let me.” he says, trying to sound authoritative. you just smirk, shaking your head. “no.”

Joel ought to learn to be patient.

so you resume, your finger gently sliding inside you; it’s nowhere near how it feels when Joel touches you, but you'd never dare admit such secrets out loud. instead, you add another finger; curling them, you let out a moan, biting your lip only when you remember there is another person in the house. thankfully, the rain slams on the windows hard enough to mask what noise you've let escape your lips.

Joel stares at you as if it's torture; you can see his own arousal growing in his pants; even as he adjusts, his brows drawn and breathing sharp. sliding the other strap off your shoulder, you let the top of your dress fall; your breasts on full display, nipples perking at the cold nip of the air.

"god damn it," he hisses, "quit your fuckin' teasing."

you don't, though: and he cannot conceal the groan he lets out as you push your chest out, arching your back as you start to thumb your clit. pleasure courses through you, soaking your panties as you watch Joel watch you.

his hand barely twitches before you shake your head, "don't touch yourself." you snap, eyes sharp as you watch his palm press over his obvious hard-on.

he glares at you.

"y'think you can tell me what to do?" he snaps, eyes sharp though you can see the flush on his cheeks at your words. this makes you stop; instantly you're pulling your fingers out of yourself, sitting forward - his eyes widen only slightly when you stand, suddenly standing over him again.

he is a dream - laid back, cheeks red and eyes sharp from the tease, straining nearly out of his pants in his desire. he pants, swallowing as you trail your fingernails over his chest slowly; up, higher...

your hand wraps around his throat - it looks small, next to his tanned skin, but the way he swallows, the way his cock twitches - he loves it. you do, too. you lift a brow. "don't think I won't fucking leave you here like you left me alone at the Bison." tilting your head, you smirk. "someone has to put you in your place, right?"

his jaw is taut as he blinks at you, not daring to argue. you tilt your head, staring at him until he rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "fine, darlin'." he grunts, "have it your way."

his hand slides away from his crotch and with a satisfied smirk, you let go of his throat. "don't move your hand from the mattress unless you want me to leave." you snap, sending him a look, "okay?"

his jaw ticks, as if deciding how much power to give up. he sighs sharply, "fine."

satisfied at his answer, you slide your underwear off your legs, leaving the dress on your torso.

Joel swallows hard, cheeks pink with desire as you climb up onto his lap; his eyes watch you warily, knowing you well enough to know you wouldn't give in this easily.

and you haven't.

instead you slide back slightly onto his thighs, relieving the brief pressure of your heat over his clothed cock; you snake your hand down, returning your fingers to your heat to find the velvety arousal waiting for you. he watches with lidded eyes and a slacked jaw. sighing, you wiggle your hips, gasping as the tips of your fingers brush your sensitive clit. your other hand rises to pinch a nipple gently, eyes locked on Joel's. he's halfway delirious - exasperated, irritated, melting with desire.

"is this better, Joel?" your voice drips with antagonism as you slowly slip two fingers into your dripping cunt, "you wanted me close, didn't you?"

he says nothing; watching you, his hips move with yours, providing you with friction as you touch yourself on his lap. a muttered curse under his breath until you whine gently, fingers stretching yourself as you wish it was him.

"god damn it." he mutters, head falling against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling as if in silent prayer. you can see him searching for some god, high up there, who will take him out of this torturous pleasure. there is a burning desire, a sweet pride, knowing that you are the only one who can. "-gonna be the death of me, darlin'."

it is not the first time he's said this. in fact, the night you first fucked around with Joel he said something very similar as you walked the patrol logs to Maria and Tommy's; the memory makes you flush, the anticipation, the butterflies, the shock.

the first time Joel put his hands on your skin, caressed you, fucked you.

"y'gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?" his voice always slips into that Texan accent more when he is aroused; the heat spreads over your body and goosebumps crawl over your legs as you let your head fall back - moaning his name, you thumb your clit gently. it never feels good enough when you do it yourself; hiding this truth, you hum, sending Joel a salacious smirk. "if you want me, you're going to have to beg for it."

this seems to have brought him back to Earth, back to this bed, to remember who it is that straddles him, who it is he desires most in this town. he bristles at your play for dominance. "-oughta fuck you 'til you remember who you're talkin' to. remember your manners." he snaps - his desperation is leaking through; you can only smile knowingly as you buck your hips on his thick thighs. pleasure starts to pool in your stomach as you tilt your head back, your thumb flicking over your sensitive nipples. he watches the movement like a hawk; angry, straining with pleasure but unable to do anything against your ministrations.

you lean yourself, not daring to stop your movements - instead, your hand slips from your breast to return itself to Joel's throat; squeezing as you feel yourself tremor with ecstasy. the want in his eyes drives you forward.

"where are your manners, old man?" you whisper, breath hot as it fans across his lips. "standing up a pretty girl like me?" you tut, shaking your head. "such a mean man. you know, I could have my pick here in Jackson-" you sigh, feeling yourself pulse with your imminent high, your fingers pumping into yourself and pleasure coursing through you.

he lets out a sigh, a whisper upon your own lips, "-I know, baby." he grunts, hips bucking against yours, seeking any kind of friction for himself. something about his desire, how you've rendered Joel Miller completely desperate and breathless for you, nearly pushes you to the edge.

"-fuck, 'm sorry, darlin'," he grunts; his hand grips the sheet below him, his voice quieted with the knowledge that Ellie remains somewhere in the house. You swirl your hips, nearing your high as your head tilts back; you move, your tits bouncing as you do, gasping gently. a part of you wishes to see how far you could push it - could he cum in his pants like this, barely touched?

but a yearning desire to be filled by him overtakes that thought.

"see-" you cut yourself off with a quiet, sweet moan, pulsing around yourself, "see how wet I am?" you spread your thighs open further, leaning back; his eyes, hungry and unrelenting, stare down at the apex of your thighs, where you've made a wet patch upon his pants, where you fuck yourself on your fingers. "yeah, baby. let me feel that pretty pussy, then." he grunts.

you lift a brow. Joel lets out a desperate moan, eyes rolling gently as you pitch your hips forward, grazing his straining cock. You eye him coyly. "where's that please you love to hear so much, Joel?" you hum, your thighs trembling as you stave off your orgasm. "or have you already forgotten how to speak?"

his eyes strain as he resists the urge to put his palm over you - your tits, your face, your cunt - you grin in satisfaction. good. "jesus," he grunts, "lord- just-" he clenches his jaw, hips bucking up against you; you gasp at the friction it causes, pushing your palm into your clit hard. "-let me fuck you." he tries to order.

you shake your head, "beg for it." you says, breathless as you scrunch your eyes shut, nearing your orgasm. "beg for me, Joel." you say again, clenching- so close-

his grip finds your hand, tugging you away from your seeping cunt so quick you barely know what's happening. you gasp, eyes flying open; his eyes are not nearly as sharp as they were- no, they're begging, pleading: wide, staring up at you like you floated down from Heaven above.

"-don't cum yet, please." he says, voice breathless, "wanna feel you 'round me. promise, I'll do anything you want, anything - please."

you could cum untouched at just the words, the arousal dripping from his lips, the way his eyes drink you in like he never wants to see anything else.

the breath tumbles out of your lips, staring at him with satisfaction, your own cheeks flushed. "was that so hard?" you pull him in for a kiss that has him keening, tongue struggling to fight for the dominance you refuse to give up. even if it took Joel dislocating his shoulder, you will not let him take away your first real breath of control over him. you lean in to his ear, biting his lobe softly as his breath hitches, "now let go of my fucking hand." you whisper coldly.

he drops it like dead weight.

smirking, you lean back, lifting your fingers between you and him; your slick coats them, shining with your evident arousal and desire. you don't have to ask; he's taking your wrist gently and pushing your fingers to his lips in a second.

you watch in awe, desire simmering deep within you as his tongue laps every drop of your arousal from your fingers, his eyes rolling back in his head, groaning gently at the taste of you. "fuck, sweetheart-" he moans and you're unsure if you've ever heard something so delicious. "please, let me feel you."

you hum, roving your hips over his, sliding until you straddle him properly; his fist, squeezed and wanting, clenches against the sheets below him. a part of you flourishes within your chest as you watch him - so clearly aroused, yet letting you take the reins for once and doing what you say.

experimentally, you drag a hand down his chest. careful to avoid his left shoulder, which is propped up and slung with a makeshift sling from an old t-shirt, you explore him.

Joel has never really let you look at him very much before; you smile, eyes trailing over his puffing chest, his stomach, down to where you roll your wet cunt over the fabric of his jeans. the texture is rough - you nearly yelp as your clit catches on the cold metal button; Joel's lips quirk up in a small smirk at the noise you let out.

you ignore his stare, not letting yourself think about how full of admiration it is at the moment; no, you let yourself bathe in the arousal, in the waiting that Joel has patiently gone through for you. your eyes find his face - that rugged, guarded expression: you see the flicker of vulnerability within them that you're slowly getting used to, that warmth that always catches on your heartbeats and makes them skip or pound just that much quicker.

so patient now, but where was he hours ago, when he could have come told you in person he couldn't make your date, or hell even just sent Ellie?

"somethin' wrong, baby?" he asks, voice low - his brow is similarly so, drawn over his eyes and you nearly lean to kiss the concern away; you remember the stares you'd gotten at the Tipsy Bison just an hour ago, sitting alone - another bout of irritation washes over you. "y'tired of tryin' to tell me what to do?"

you let out a small huff, "thinkin' about what I was gonna let you do to me in the bathroom at the Bison tonight."

it's barely a hint at anything, but his eyes shut at the image. "I'm s-"

you really don't want to hear it - he's already apologized several times, and you forgive him. now, you're much more focused on giving what you get. "-shut up, Joel." you snap - and he does.

jaw snapping shut, he watches you as you move on him, eyes desperate, hungry.

you let your hand slide over the wet patch you've made to palm him, squeezing his cock experimentally. it throbs, twitches; the breath catches in his throat at your palm and you hum. he lets out a low moan when you unclasp his jeans, tugging then down enough to let his cock spring free.

he's impossibly hard; leaking precum and throbbing, Joel stares up at you as you dance your fingertips around the course hair at the base, watching him move under you. his lips are parted, but nothing more than grunts and breaths leave them; you grin. "what's wrong, Mr. Miller?" you tilt your head, "scared you'll cum too quick?"

his eyes roll at your sass, but whatever lip he was about to deliver is cut off when you move your hips upward; grazing over his aching cock is your wet arousal, your cunt enveloping him in your heat. it's as much a tease to him as it is to you - you're aching with need, cunt swallowing around nothing each time you slide your hips against his cock and feel it slide through your slick.

"please." it is like a breath in the wind, but it makes you smirk. your hand slides to hold his jaw, tilting his head until he looks at you straight-on - his eyes are wide and pleading, begging. it coils something very deep within you.

"you're real handsome like this, Joel." you say, just to watch the blush over his cheeks. his brows furrow, nostrils flaring; irritated, bashful, embarrassed. "I love it when you're so desperate you can't think straight."

he lifts a brow, not daring to say anything - you see the knowing look in his eyes, though; he loves it just as much as you do. you wonder, briefly, if he's ever really let go like this before, let someone else take control. it makes you throb to think you might be the first one. your clit brushes to head of his dick and you both gasp; your hand slides until your thumb pulls on his bottom lip. parting his mouth, he watches you expectantly - a tingle within you as you realize what he expects without having to tell you, and so you do it. spitting, you watch as your saliva mixes with his on his tongue and he groans, swallowing it quickly.

fuck, it feels good; your slick has ruined his jeans and you've run out of patience.

slowly, you rise to your knees and grasp his cock, giving two pumps that have his eyes shutting and swears tumbling from his bitten lips. but then, you notch him at your entrance, swallowing thickly at his size - no matter how many times you take Joel, it's always a stretch.

he feels it too, his eyes widening in bliss. "c'mon, now-" he becomes impatient; you serve him a warning look, lifting a brow. his expression is one of pure resentment and arousal - you're relieved for a moment that he truly is injured, otherwise you know your ass would be spanked completely raw and you'd probably be fucked out on the floor having alerted the whole neighborhood.

"quit actin' like you've never done this before," he snaps, clearly fed up with playing around, "like you weren't made to slut yourself out on my cock. let me feel you." but his eyes meet yours, and he tilts his head, adding a small, sarcastic, "please."

a shiver of desire cascades over you; irritation at him standing you up, at getting injured and not telling you, at the storm for ruining your crops - all the frustration dissipates when you sink yourself slowly onto Joel, feeling him split you open.

you moan in tandem with him, taking him as low as you can go until you let out a short whine, feeling his cock punch your cervix. deep- he always gets so fucking deep.

you remain slow because you know he wants it fast. a rise and fall of your hips, teasing, as he drags alongside your channels, your cunt squeezing him deliciously. you're already nearing bliss once again, eyes fluttering at the feeling; using him, taking what you need.

his own eyes are screwed shut, jaw more tense than you've seen before; breathing heavily, it's as if he's trying to fight an orgasm already. you smirk, shaking your head, "already so close, old man?" you tut, leaning back to balance one hand on his lower thigh, the other hiking up your dress so that he can see your slick, where his cock is swallowed by your greedy pussy.

you sigh, the feeling euphoric as his hips slowly buck to meet yours, fucking into you as you bounce on him. you try not to let your eyes roll back, taking in the slow sweetness of him filling you to the brim. "you're so fucking lucky, you know that?" you hiss, eyes knitting together. "such a fuckin' asshole, yet here I am letting you fuck me."

he groans, head falling backwards and his free fist not wrapped in the sling fisting the sheets with a death grip. you slow your hips slightly when he doesn't respond, watching him with arousal swirling across your vision. a low fire burns bright within your core, your orgasm building up again.

“fuck," he nearly moans it, "I know. I know. just- don’t fuckin' stop, baby.”

you've never heard him this desperate; it shoots ecstasy through your very veins, curling your toes and making you clench around him, throbbing in pleasure. "pussy's fuckin' heaven." he mutters to himself. you flutter, shivering down your spine.

"dirty man," you whimper, starting to fuck yourself onto him harder; you bite back a moan as you hear your wet cunt against him, legs beginning to shake. "how long did you know me before you decided you wanted me, hm?"

he lets out a low groan, hand flying to rake through his curls as he bucks his hips with yours. your hand flies to his cheek, landing a smack upon the apple of it. a light slap, one to make sure he's paying attention; the doe-look in his eyes makes your arousal coil, that spring getting tighter and tighter.

is this how he feels when you're underneath him, looking up at him like that? "I asked you a question." you whisper.

"m-moment I saw you," he says, "y'know that, baby." he affirms, barely able to string his words together. warmth courses through you at the admission, so free, so honest.

"fantasized about me for months, didn't you? and now you have me, and you're leaving me all alone on our first date?" you shake your head, pushing your hair away from your face before toying with your tits once again, sighing as you shiver. you're chasing your high already, spurred on by his flustered state, by the power you've found within it.

the rain slams on the windows outside, but you couldn't care less.

you know he's injured; you know Joel, he wouldn't intentionally hurt you - but standing you up on your first date still stings, and you're not afraid to let him know.

you're close to your orgasm, and Joel can tell - his thighs are thick cords of muscle beneath you as he begins to fuck up into you, tip of his cock pushing against your cervix and making you bite back a scream of pleasure.

you cast yourself forward, avoiding his injured shoulder as you nip along his neck, tongue sliding against the damp, hot skin. "we can play games all we want, Mr. Miller," you whisper against his ear, relishing in the deep spot he hits within you, "but we both know. I own you."

he lets out a groan at this, his hips bucking up into you; you gasp as his cock punches your cunt, hitting so deep you keen upwards, toes curling. fuck. "yeah baby, I'm yours-" his voice nearly breaks as he says it, looking as if fighting an internal war over risking further injury to his shoulder if it means pulling you down harder against him. "fuck, so fuckin' pretty like this, all mine."

his chattermouth seems to have returned; in great time, too, as you grip the hand he's cemented to the sheets and shove it between you two, gasping as you near your high.

"make me cum," you instruct, "make me cum, then maybe I'll let you cum. can you do that?"

it is an echo of what he'd asked you just days ago in your own bed; with the rain pouring down, flickering in candlelight.

"fuck," he mutters, "yes." he affirms; you nod, too blissed out to respond more. his fingers spring to life desperately, his own thrusts sloppy as he seemingly tries to stave off his own orgasm. your body is on an electric wire; every muscle clenches when his rough fingers find your clit, toying and rubbing furiously to bring you to that brink. "g-good, that's so good-" you moan, trying desperately to control the volume of your voice as you shake with pleasure. "don't fucking cum, Miller." you order, hand falling to his throat. he moans, nodding.

"please," he says it quietly; you see the hunger, that darkness in his eyes as he strains. you gasp, a wave hitting you as he begs, "please, cum for me, pretty girl." he groans, "wanna feel it. c'mon-"

you hit your orgasm with a gasp and a low, drawn out moan. it rolls over you in waves, pulsing, dragging you into the current and spitting you, heaving, back into the universe. he's pressed his hand over your mouth; a desperate plea to remain undiscovered, as your hand falls similarly to his mouth from his throat.

you feel his lips form your name under your fingers; it feels like home.

his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim; he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss Joel's neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers fly up; too weak of desire, you let him grip the side of your thigh. "shit," he mutters, "darlin', I'm close-"

shaking your head, you stare at him, "didn't tell you you could cum yet, did I?"

the taste of his own medicine looks divine upon his face; the graying facial hair glinting in the rainy light outside, his thick neck on display again. he growls and it stirs something delicious within you.

you feel your grip on reality - on your control, on him - start to loosen as your thrusts become sloppy. "Joel," you whine looking into his eyes. it's as if he snaps.

he’s surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arm rising to your waist to hold you as you move. this position hits the perfect spot inside you that you have to bite hard on his good shoulder to avoid screaming in ecstasy.

the rain washes away the sound of skin against skin but you feel it, you feel him everywhere.

"I'm close," he mutters. your eyes are screwed shut; you jolt when you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing figure-eights on your clit and you nearly writhe in his hold, whispering, "don't- you'll hurt yourself."

"don't fuckin' care." he almost growls, beginning to drive up into you, tilting until your toes curl and your whole body shakes. "jus' wanna cum with you. can I cum with you, baby?"

his voice is so desperate your eyes nearly roll back. you move your hips, chasing the high that you can feel coming. you clench, feeling the familiar feeling creeping on you, your cunt puffy and spent; hungry. his hand grips tight on the junction of your leg and hip, fingers squeezing the sides of your ass as he pulls you down onto him, grunting with his eyes closed.

he looks angelic like this, flushed and wide-eyes as he bites his lip. your eyes meet his and you nod, "cum with me, Joel, yes-"

you shake as you hit your high, legs giving out a bit as you pulse and clench around his cock. it immediately makes him cum, thrusting into you and shooting hot spurts deep inside you, his moan desperate and full of pleasure. "could stay with you forever," he says, voice hollow and spent, warm and tired as he pushes his length impossibly deeper into you, sending you keening. your thighs quiver, feeling the cum that leaks from you drip onto his jeans; your heart stops, a wash of flattery over you suddenly as you register his words. "keep you with me forever."

your heart is suddenly pounding, chest heaving, eyes blissful. you stay, arms on him as his good arm stays around you, pulling your weight on top of him. his cock still throbs gently inside you as you press your cheek against his chest.

keep you with me forever. you sigh at the thought, blinking syrupy, pressing a kiss over his chest.

you open your mouth; in fact, the sentiment is there, unspoken and unadmitted but still lingering like clouds and sunsets and uncertainty and fear in your mind. something like love.

but he cuts you off before you can even speak, "I'm sorry," he mumbles, lips brushing against your hairline, "I wanted tonight to be perfect. I'm sorry I got hurt, 'n I'm sorry I didn't tell ya."

you swallow back your words, nodding, "Joel, I understand. tell me next time."

he nods, "jus' gotta stop fucking this up." he says, voice slightly anxious. furrowing your brows, you sit up slightly; you both wince at your sore bodies, but you don't mind. frowning, you take in the melancholy that's settled now that the haze of lust as subsided. this isn't normal; trying to navigate any kind of relationship itself is difficult, let alone your rocky start with each other - god forbid you have rough patches, misunderstandings.

Joel has shown his capacity to mature, to work on himself, and you wouldn't dare write that off as nothing. you know it isn't - you know just a few of the many things Joel has seen in his time. you will learn when he is ready, but for now you wait, patient.

"hey," you say softly, guiding his cheek in your palm. he looks at you with large eyes as you shake your head, "you care about me" you affirm.

he nods with no hesitation, "yes, I do. I-" he cuts himself off, looking away before taking a breath, "jus' don't deserve you, s'all."

you shrug, "well, I care about you too. that's what matters. everything else, we're just..." you purse your lips with a small smile, giddy at the thought of his words earlier; in this life, finding any kind of happiness is wholly unrealistic and more than a privilege. and yet, you have this man in front of you; a protector, a friend, a lover - things are fucked up, yes, but there isn't anything in this world that isn't.

perhaps it's time to start maturing; perhaps it's time to start seeing things for what they are.

"figuring it out?" he offers, looking almost hopeful. you nod; he kisses you fully, lips tasting a faint hint of your arousal from earlier.

he hums as his hand trails over your back, up your neck. "your hair's still wet." he observes against your lips, hand carding through the strands. you nod bashfully, "was pouring out earlier." you remind him.

he hums, "still is." he observes, chin jutting to the window. you look on, taking in the tears that slide down the panes violently; a cry from the world, though your heart is filled with something much more joyous. "s'ppose it's too late to take you to get drinks, then?" he suggests, giving you a look. you look at him wildly, "you're injured, Joel."

he sighs, "don't matter, like I said." he argues. you huff, shaking your head, "I heard you were being babied all day, and now you want to walk down into town in the torrential downpour?"

he stiffens, lifting a brow; you flush when you feel his semi-hard cock warm inside you. "who the hell said I was bein' a baby?" he says; you laugh. he laughs, too. it's nice.

shaking your head, you sigh. "we'll wait until you feel better, Joel. then you can take me for as many drinks as you'd like."

he sighs, "get'ya all the liquor left in this place if I can help it." he mutters, kissing your hairline again, "I'm sorry, again."

you kiss his lips, knowing he means it. "I know you are." you whisper back, a hand soothing over him. his eyes are a deep honey, searching yours with vulnerability; you're reminded of his words from just moments ago and flush.

Joel speaks up again first. "would you-" he swallows thickly, and you turn to watch him, still bathing in the afterglow of two orgasms, his cock still snug within you. his good hand slides over your spine, "would you stay the night?" he asks, eyes vulnerable, "y'can borrow some clothes." he offers, looking over your soaked dress hopefully.

something flutters in your stomach and you nod, "sure, I'd like that."

he's never invited you explicitly like this; you smile gently, deciding not to tease him for the blush upon your cheeks. you watch the curve of his nose, the curve of his jawline as he suppresses a bashful grin - you flicker with a stir of arousal. "can I use your shower?" you ask, eyes flickering to the bathroom that connects to his room. clearing his throat, he nods. "'course."

you purse your lips, "can you get in the shower with your shoulder like that?" you ask; his brow lifts in interest, some kind of arousal swirling in the depths of his eyes. "for a piece of this ass?" he mutters, hand groping your left cheek hungrily, "I can at least try."

you roll your eyes, ignoring the newly restored desire that grows between your thighs, smirking. "I should say you should take me to dinner first."

he chuckles, "ship's sailed on that, I think." he slaps your ass, watching with sharp eyes as the flesh bounces with the impact. "I'll make y'dinner when I'm healed, though."

you hum against his lips, sliding off of him and gasping at the feeling of his cum slipping between your thighs. you yelp lightly, grinning as you rise up and he slaps your ass again. "help clean me up first," you whisper, pressing a kiss to his nose, "then I'll consider it."

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#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us (tv)#let’s chat abt mr miller #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us

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downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 1 year

Text

Leonardo's First Love—Splinter's Talk

When Leo realized his heart was being divided, he felt afraid.

His attention had always been captured by his family and his mission—he knew what it was like to love them. But never had he thought his love was going to be snatched up, split, and taken almost wholly by someone of the race that thought they were monsters.

When Leo noticed the pull towards something else, something new, he pushed himself away.

He found himself tonight an observer to soft skin, a vulnerable but inviting form that seemed to master existing as is without striving for status-quo. And it was entrancing, desirable; sparked sensations in him he had put under wraps years ago as a teen. Useless instinct. Basic drive. He had more to expect from the world, and expected more, he did…but every night, went back to the same old scenario. Her.

"Get out of my head," he groaned as he laid up in the quiet lair when he was supposed to be resting, lost in thought. Smooth curves. A small stature against his. Hands, running down—he paused. Somewhere in the middle of a fantasy, he'd heard the words "I love you". That brought him back to the fact that it wasn't just desire. For that there were things he felt embarrassed to indulge in sometimes; but it didn't help anymore. Because those people in the screens, the words on a page of an R-rated book, were not her. Couldn't be, even if he tried. He wanted to know for just a moment what it was like to be human. To have that possibility of love there for the taking. And to never go for it, with all the permission those men had just for being human, he was disgusted. Feeling bitter over that fact sent his mind into overdrive—because he would feel even worse if some man did go for it with her. Like a walking contradiction, he was fighting with himself every step of the way. From she should stay away, to she should be with me.

He got up to practice some forms. Maybe do maintenance on his flexibility. Sharpen his katanas. Anything to stop thinking and start doing. Somewhere during his steady training, he heard Master Splinter enter.

"What is the matter, my son?" asked Splinter. He always knew even when his more stoic child Leonardo was troubled.

"What's the matter? Nothing's the matter. I'm fine," Leo replied, balancing on one leg. "[Y/N] should head home, it's almost time for patrol."

Splinter sat cross-legged down on a cushion with a slight smile. "So quick to mention [Y/N], even when you're preoccupied," he commented, "I told her she was welcome to stay whenever she liked. To repay for her generosity." That generosity being, stocking their fridge with things they couldn't get a hold of, to help out the heroes of New York. Something along the lines of making sure they were eating right for all they did.

Leo paused, "What? I'm not quick, I was just saying…Splinter, it's weird having someone around now."

"Does not have to be 'weird'," Splinter said. Leo felt his black eyes on him even when turned around. He was flustered, still going through the smooth motions of his kata. "Tell me what is really going on, Leonardo. I know you have something on your mind."

Giving up his rotations, Leo slumped a little as he stepped off of the pedestal, setting his katanas down as he faced his father. "I don't know what's up with me, Master. I just don't get it."

Splinter gave a knowing hum. Still, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It seems like you've been quite bothered over [Y/N], my son."

He knew he couldn't hide anything from Splinter. There was no point in deflecting longer; he was only embarrassing himself. Finally, he admitted, "I can't…you know the way it is, Master, it'll never work. She's cool with us, but she's a human. And I'm a mutant." He sat down before his father on a plain mat.

"Yes, a very beautiful human, too," the old rat mused, gently stroking the longer hairs of his chin. Leo flinched and opened his mouth to switch the focus of the conversation, but Splinter beat him to it. "Surely a woman like that would not ever spend money on, cook for, and give quite undivided attention to such a mutant when he's training. You are correct, my son, it's over."

Leo's face flushed cold, blood rushing to his cheeks as he listened to his father. "Master Splinter! I'm being serious!" he fussed as he leaned forward onto his palms. "I don't know what to do, I—"

"—want to stop feeling this way, yes, I know," Splinter finished for him. "Oh, young love."

It was quiet for more than a moment. Leo's face softened, his blue eyes studying his father's as he gave Leo a look of acknowledgement. He gathered the courage stuck in his gut fluttering about his stomach, mind bouncing between [Y/N] and what his dad was saying. "I made myself stop thinking about love and stuff a long time ago. Mikey's always going on about it. I know Raph wants to be accepted more than anything, and Donnie, he's got his secrets. I'm supposed to be the example. I was supposed to show them we can live and not care. That our lives are worthwhile even without humans being involved. But now…"

Splinter raised a brow at him.

"I'm in love," Leo said. "And—and want it so badly."

Splinter reached forward to place a hand on his shoulder. As soon as [Y/N] had entered their lives, he knew this day was going to come for one of his sons. It was inevitable, he thought. "Welcome to manhood, my son, this was fated to happen at some point. I've only been waiting since she arrived."

Leo felt exposed. He felt unsure, and that uncertainty was driving him insane. He was always steadfast in his approach. Knowing he was a fish out of water in this situation disarmed him.

"Master Splinter, what do I do? Tell me."

Splinter's idle smile left as the tone turned more serious suddenly, adding to Leo's growing discomfort. "You must understand that having [Y/N] means that your burden will grow. Not only will it be your brothers you will have to protect, but her, as well. It is your job to defend her from anything that could put her in harm's way. She is not built to fight like you. She is vulnerable, and being affiliated to us will only add to the dangers already present in this world. That is what you must come to terms with. But you must not ignore your heart, either."

Having another body to look after. He contemplated that before answering. When he thought about defending her, it did not feel like an added chore. He wanted to. What was he so strong for if not to also protect the woman he loved? And what he had said before…could she have felt the same way?

"You've prepared me more than enough to be able to handle another person, Master."

He wanted nothing more than to hold her. That was something he could not deny. He enjoyed being an observer to a way of life so different from his; femininity, not always being the one taking care of others. He loved his family, but at times, leading was tiring. He wanted to forget about it for just a little bit, maybe lay down, be with someone he didn't have to "manage".

Splinter would have been lying to have said he wasn't surprised at all. But he knew his sons, inside and out—Leonardo had iron will.

"It is your choice, Leonardo," Splinter said amiably.

His choice? He wanted to laugh. There almost wasn't a choice. He felt like every road led back to her. It was either face his fears, or stay awake every night plagued with the possibilities of what could be. And he didn't handle fear well. It twisted his stomach and ate him up inside when he felt uncertain, afraid. God, one word is all I need from her. Just one "yes". One touch. One kiss. He wanted to feel her hands explore his plastron, run along the edge of his shell. Love what made him, him.

Overcoming the hesitance he felt, he let out a deep breath, committing to a final answer. " I don't know how, but...I want to try. I can't let this go. There has to be a reason all of this happened. If everything that's happened to us up until now has been destiny...I can believe it for this, too. Thank you, master."

Just felt like writing our leader in blue having a talk with his father 😌 Going to make this a little mini series for all the boys!

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt leonardo #leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt leonardo x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse #master splinter #tmnt 2003

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 2 months

Text

“Digging Your Own Grave” - Dean x Reader

Rating Teen

Dean x Reader

Tags: Humor, Grumpy Dean, Adult Language, Fluff, Kissing, Reader Insert for “Optimism” Episode 14.6

Word Count: 1,000

Dean’s ego is wounded because of Jack calling him an old man. You aren’t doing anything to help Dean feel better.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my dialogue, "Did you just kiss me to shut me up?" “Nooo?” square.

Big thanks to @zepskies for the chat and prompt that helped me rattle this little drabble out.

You’d scoped out the library for Dean and Jack a couple hours ago. Harper Sayles had a smile that took up half her face in greeting. You filled out an application for a library card with your fake Nebraska license in order to get some intel on this bad luck charm of a librarian.

Now, you’re waiting in Dick’s Red Rooster Diner while Jack swoops into the library to “save” Harper from the big bad FBI man that is Dean Winchester. To pass the time, you sip on a raspberry iced tea and relish a cinnamon roll while flipping through a spicy Nora Robert’s novel you also checked out. You’ll pop it into the drop slot tonight. You don’t need the specter of an overdue library book haunting your 2 am thoughts for years to come.

With the book fanned out in front of your face, you don’t notice Dean sat across from you until he clears his throat.

He looks miserable.

Totally fuckable but miserable.

“What happened? You peek out the picture window. “Where’s Jack?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Playing hero like we planned.” He grabs the cinnamon roll off your plate and stuffs half of it into his mouth and chews in deliberate, deep-in-thought, slow motion.

You frown at the sad state of affairs that is your significant other and also at the loss of your treat. “That’s good. He wanted to help on a case and he’s doing his bit.” You wait a beat. “Right?”

Dean swallows, then washes it down with some of your iced tea. “He called me an old man.”

Your hand holding the book flops to the tabletop with a thud that rattles the silverware.

You stare at him while he stares back at you with those apple green eyes.

He waits with those crow’s feet you love to trace with the tip of your finger when he sleeps. With etchings of furrowed forehead from years of contemplation and worry. With those perfect lips that aren’t quite as pouty as they used to be. With that one gray hair poking out atop his head of spiked strands.

“What’s funny about that?” Dean asks in irritation.

You realize too late that you’ve been grinning.

“Dean, he was probably just acting… you know, pointing out the obvious age…” You clamp your lips shut.

Dean’s eyes widen and he straightens in the chair.

“I mean, it’s Jack. He’s still learning the nuances of language.” You try and salvage what you can.

His brows quirk up. “He’s not the only one.”

You’re about to fire something back when Dean’s attention shoots to the window. You follow his lead. Jack and Harper are on the sidewalk outside the library. There’s another man talking to them before they part ways.

“Son of a bitch did it,” Dean mutters. “I’ll follow them.” He stands. “You,” he points at the linoleum by your feet, “Stay here.”

“Dean…”

“I don’t need a walker or a chaperone. And I don’t want to have to worry about you getting in trouble. If I need you, I’ll press my Life Alert button.”

“Be careful.”

He nods and manages a sort of smile.

~~~

You have stayed quiet since Dean called you to drive Baby to the back alley behind the library. Vance’s body was stuffed in the trunk by Dean, even though Jack offered to help. Vance’s body was pulled out of the trunk by Dean, even though Jack offered to help, and carried to the open grave by Dean.

Dean tossed Jack a proverbial bone with the shovel when Vance was safe and sound, coffin lid creaking shut. “Dig.”

Jack was downright giddy to shovel piles of graveyard dirt over what would now be Vance’s, hopefully, final resting place. The stake through the heart should ensure Harper’s zombie boyfriend stays good and buried.

You haven’t lifted a finger in the cemetery. Mainly because Dean hasn’t let you. You’ve kept careful watch over Jack and Dean and surveyed the surrounding pitch black for any danger. Harper Sayles sailed away and you don’t want any happy returns.

You should feel more at ease with Dean joining you by Baby’s trunk. But you can sense he’s still prickly. He’s breathing deeply in and out through his nose. He’s trying to hide the exhaustion and exertion of the entire ordeal.

He stands next to you, shoulder to shoulder. He’s got your six, staring behind you as you survey Jack’s shoveling form in front of you in the lantern light. He’s chucking and tossing dirt in hyperdrive mode.

“Jack,” you whisper yell and his head whips in your direction, his bangs following a second later. “Bend at the knees.”

He nods and smiles, offering a thumbs up before taking your suggestion and getting back to work.

“Kid doesn’t need to worry about his joints. He’s not an old man.” Dean’s comment drips with sarcasm.

“Never too early to learn proper form.” You counter and look up to side-eye Dean. He stares down at you briefly, his mouth quirks up in a grin that lightens your heart.

It’s quiet except for crickets and the cyclical sounds of Jack’s shovel slicing into soft earth and the subsequent spatter atop the coffin lid.

You muster the courage to speak. “Dean, you’re not old. I mean if you’re old, then that means I’m old. And I am in no way, shape or form ready to admit that.”

Dean hums to let you know he’s listening.

“If anything you’re just older, you know. A seasoned hunter. Someone that Jack looks up to. Wants to emulate. Because of how much you know. How much good you’ve done. And, besides, you know what they say. With age comes…”

Your words are cut off by Dean’s lips, pressing with force against your open mouth. You moan at how warm he feels even with the chill in the air. He breaks off sooner than you’d like. He’s smiling, guarding your back at your side.

You feel your brows scrunch together. “Did you just kiss me to shut me up?”

He tilts his head, not looking at you, only offering his achingly beautiful profile. “Nooo?”

You chuckle. “Way to sound convincing. Then why?”

He shrugs. “You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.” He lifts a brow and glances at you. “And that, my dear, only comes from experience.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fluff #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction

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chesterfieldblossom · 29 days

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BITTERSWEET Logan Howlett x Reader (6.9k words)

SUMMARY | You were on a mission, Stryker got you and Logan, making you forget everything about him. You woke up in the Med Bay of the X-Mansion, not knowing what happened. NOTES | I cried writing this shit, you guys better enjoy. Also, I listened to Cry from Cigarettes After Sex and K. from Cigarettes After Sex in loop to write. WARNINGS/TAGS | Angst! Loose of memories, comforting, fluff! Logan, F! Reader, intimacy, deep talking, explicit words, amnesia. RATING | + Teen

Being the girlfriend of Logan Howlett was a hard thing sometimes. Specially when that involves being an X-Men too. But something happened in the last mission, Stryker got you and messed up with your memories. You lost everything about Logan. You just remember being a mutant and living on the X-Mansion. Nothing about him, not even his name.

As soon your eyes dart open, your mouth feels dry. You frown to yourself as you mumble, tossing.

"Where— ?"

A man that was sitting on a chair by your side wide his eyes to you as he heard you mumbling. He looked relieved.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

You wide your eyes too, sitting on the bed quickly.

"Who are you?"

He groans annoyedly. He thought that you remembered him, but obviously that wasn't the case. He had dark hair, styled on a beast form. His eyes were hazel, and he was wearing a button black shirt and a leather jacket. He had something comforting about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

"Logan, or you used to call me Wolvie. Does that ring any bells?"

You rub your head, frowning.

"Listen, love. I probably drinked with you last night and we probably did things, but that was not me." Everything was looking very confusing. What the hell you did last night?

The man groans and facepalms. Great. You don't even remember him. It was like talking to a whole new person. But it was better having you this way than not having you.

"You're telling me that you don't remember me at all? Even a little bit?"

"Is not personal, the alcohol do these things." The calmness on your voice was a bit annoying as you reach the glass of water nearby and gulp.

He groans again. This time even louder.

"It is kinda personal though! I mean, don't you think it's bad that you don't remember me? We used to be in love, y'know! It's not like we just randomly hooked up or something.” Uh-oh.

You stop gulping, confused.

"I-" But nothing more cames out.

He rolls his eyes before looking at you

"Yeah, you heard me. We were in love. Well, until Stryker got us and erased your memories.” He sigh as he rub his head. “Damnit.”

"I don't know what you're talking about." You shake your head as you reach your shoes from the floor, putting them.

But a hand grab your wrist as you attempt to walk out of the room.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Home?"

In fact, you didn't know were you’re going. His grip on your wrist getting tighter but not to the point where it hurts you.

"Like hell you're going home. Not when I just got you back. This is your home." His voice was rough.

"I—" You look around, your eyes recognizing the familiar walls. The X-Mansion.

He doesn't let go of you and instead moves in closer to you. To the point where your bodies were almost pressed together.

"Just... look into my eyes, please?"

"How do I know you were my boyfriend? Say something about me, quick." You threat him, narrowing your eyes.

He groans again. Great. You were being difficult. He moves even closer, to the point where his chest was against yours. You could feel the heat irradiating of his body.

"Alright, let's see. You're stubborn, hot headed, and you like country music." Fuck. He knew you, at least a bit.

Your legs tangled on each other as you walk back, in shock. But he moves quickly and catches you before you can fall. He then pulls you even closer to his chest.

"See? Told you that you're stubborn. You nearly fell on your ass and you still tried to get away from me.” He hisses, the eyes throwing daggers on yours.

"This is not happening."

He chuckles slightly seeing how confused and flustered you were. But the chuckle has no humor at all.

"I beg to differ, darlin'. This is happening and you can't change that.”

"Tell me more." You pull away from him, crossing your arms. You needed answers.

He groaned again. You had to be so damn stubborn about everything, even when your memory didn't work right. But that was his girl, she was there, even not remembering him.

"What do you want me to tell you about? I can go on and on about the past and how much of a little minx you are.” His tone was annoyed.

"Say anything." You put your head in your hands as you sit on the bed. He sighs and thinks for a few seconds.

"Let's see. You have a weakness for coffee, you can't take a damn shower on normal temperature— always lava, and you can never go a day without wearing black or red nail polish."

He could hear your cursing under your breath in surprise. He smirks slightly and moves to sit right next to you on the bed.

"You really don't remember anything huh? Not a single thing that I've just said rings a bell?”

"No." Your voice cracked. But that things made sense to you, sounded like you— somehow.

His smirk falters a bit when he hears your voice crack. He wasn't expecting that. He gently puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, look at me.”

But you can’t. You keep your head between your hands as you feel the tears hitting the floor. He gently grabs your hands and moves them away from your face, forcing you to look at him.

"Hey, sugar? Why are you crying?"

"Because I don't have any idea who are you and you know me." You didn't remembered him, but the empathy was boiling in your blood. His expression softens when he sees the tears in your eyes. He knew how tough you were. Seeing you crying like this was very rare.

"Oh, hey. Don't cry, please. I promise that you'll remember me someday. You just have to give it time.” He pats your back in a soothing manner. But you keep your eyes shut, almost thinking that this is a nightmare and you need to wake up. Wake up, come on. You say to yourself.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you even closer to him. He rests his chin on top of your head.

"And if you have no recollection of anything, I'll tell and remind you just how much I love you. I promise you that.”

You don’t touch him back, but he can’t blame you— you don’t remember him. You could hear he groaning in annoyance again when you don't reciprocate. He knew that you just didn't remember, but dammit it hurt like hell.

"C'mon. Gimme some kinda response. You're being too quiet.”

"I need time." The way your voice sounded nasal broke something inside him.

But he just sighs and nods. That was... fair. You did lose your memories after all. But he wanted you to remember him so damn badly. He wanted to beat himself for letting Stryker put his hands on you. That was his damn fault.

"I know, I know. You take all the time you need. I'll be right here waiting.”

"Tell me about you." You pull away to look at him. This was a good start, right?

He leans back slightly. His eyes dart to some place behind you, thinking.

"What do you want to know? About how grumpy I am in the morning? About the fact that I drink about 8 cups of coffee per day and whiskey when you’re not watching? About the fact I love riding my motorcycle or where I hide my Cuban cigarettes? There's a lot to tell, sweetheart.” He say with a shy grin, trying to stole a laugh of you. And did worked, you chuckled.

"How we met?" You sniffed, tugging your hair behind your ear.

His annoyance from earlier subsided a bit and was replaced with a more gentle expression, a small hint of a smile showing on his lips.

"Ah, you asking the tough questions huh? Hm, let me think. It was about three years ago. You joined the X-Mansion and I— I couldn't get my eyes off you since that day." He paused painfully.

"Really? I wasn't scared by your... personality?" Your arched your brows. Now it was your turn to make him laugh. And worked— he chuckled as he rolls his eyes.

"You? Scared of my rough and grumpy personality? I doubt that. If anything, I think you liked the fact that I was grumpy so you could tease me."

You nod in silence, smiling a bit.

"I'm guessing that you're starting to believe me a bit, huh? About me being your boyfriend?" There was hope in his rough voice.

"It's still confused, but I don't doubt of you."

He looks at you with a soft expression, his thumb gently caressing your knee. He had missed you so much, and now that you were back, even if you don't remember him, he wasn't going to waste this opportunity.

"It is a little confusing, huh? But that's alright. You're here and you're safe, and that's what matters to me right now." The tenderness on his voice was killing you inside. You wanted to remember him so bad.

"What if I don't remember?" Your thoughts echoed. "The relationship —I mean."

And he groans again. You knew exactly where to hit him to make him worry. That damn stubborn attitude of yours was as infuriating as endearing.

"Then we just go from zero. I'll just make you fall in love with me again.” His voice was deadly serious.

"What if I don't fall in love with you again?" You retorted quickly.

You received a glare when you retort and a groan in annoyance. You were being intentionally difficult just to piss him off. It always worked and he hated it, but he also loved it. It was that personality of yours that made him fall in love with you —in the first place.

"What, are you saying that I don't have the charm and skill to win your heart twice? Because I do, damnit."

He made you chuckle again. You were loosing it.

"You need to be patient with me, you know?"

He rolls his eyes and nods, but underneath he was mentally cursing at himself. Patience was not exactly his strongest point.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Patience is key right?"

Your shrug, nodding.

"Yeah." You squirm your eyes to him, trying to remember a thing.

He studies your face for a bit, watching how you look up and down his face, inspecting it intently. A small part of him hoped that the sight of his face would be enough for you to magically remember him and all the memories the two of you shared. But deep down he knew that it would be a lot more work than that, it wouldn't be that simple, and that you wouldn't remember him that easy. It was never that easy.

"Tell me more about you." You try to disguise your lack of memories with a random topic. "What do you want for your future?"

He relaxes his shoulders a bit, he expected another difficult question from you, but he was pleasantly surprised that you were starting to cooperate with him. He takes a deep breath before answering your question.

"Future, huh? I've never really thought much about it. I just want a peaceful future. A future with you.” He lock his eyes on you. “I want the both of us to go somewhere and live quiet lives, away from all the bullshit and fights." You nod quietly. So he was an mutant too, maybe an X-Men.

"You're a mutant too."

He grins at you.

"Yeah, I am. And I'm damn good at fighting." He chuckles as he shows you his claws.

"Nice claws." You grin, admiring the sharpy metallic claws.

"More than just nice. They come in handy in a fight.”

"Okay, so." I pause as I look at you. "What do you do in your free time?"

He sighs, rubbing his hands on his jeans— of course you'd ask him that kind of question.

"Why do you want to know? Trying to figure out if I have any weird or kinky hobbies?"

"Maybe." You say, understanding why you felt in love with him. He was very careful with you, lightening the mood when you needed it, being patient even though you felt that this was not a strong trait of his personality. He knew where the conversation was about to go, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to lie to you if it did.

"If you must know, I usually drive around on my motorcycle, and when I'm not doing that, I'm in the training room punching things.” He show his knuckles to you. But they don’t have a bruise.

"And..." You carefully lift your eyes to his. "With me? I mean, what we were used to do?"

He grins slightly and raises an eyebrow at you, his mind wandering elsewhere. He glances you up and down, thinking if he will say or not.

"Well, we didn't really do much talking when we were together.”

"Oh." You wide your eyes in surprise. "So we’re that kind of couple."

He smirks as he looks into your eyes, his expression almost amused.

"Oh, you have no idea."

You laugh, avoiding looking at him.

"Jesus."

He chuckles, seeing your reaction. You looked embarrassed, flustered and shocked at the same time. He found it adorable.

"Told you that we weren't exactly 'conversation-friendly'”

"But we— in the Mansion?" Your smile drops and change into a concerned face.

He knew what you were insinuating. He had a feeling that it was coming.

"Yeah, in the mansion. You have no idea how many times we almost got caught.” He sighs, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Oh my God, but—" You suddenly feel embarrassed by your past version.

He chuckles and shakes his head at your reaction. He actually found it cute how flustered you got right now.

"Calm down, relax. No one ever caught us, if that's what worrying you."

You let a sigh of relief escape.

"And we date for how long?"

He takes a deep breath and thinks for a moment. He couldn't believe that you didn't remember this. Three years was a long time to just forget. He couldn't imagine how awful it must be to just not remember the three years.

"About... three years. We got together three years ago.”

"Oh." Your heart dropped. "I'm sorry."

He groans again. Why the hell were you apologizing? This wasn't your damn fault.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You have no control over the fact that you don't remember anything.”

"How I lost my memory?" You felt more secure to ask that now.

He groans again, groaning a lot today apparently. This was a touchy subject for both of you. Just thinking about what you went through makes his heart hurt. He tries to be calm as he answers your question.

"Do you remember a man called 'Stryker'?" He says the name in a disgust you never saw before.

"No."

He nods. He thought that would be the answer even before he asked you that question.

"Yeah, I figured. Anyway, he's a mutant-hating doctor. He's in charge of a mutant... elimination group. He took us a few months ago. Wanted to use us for his own personal gain.”

"And?" You encourage him to keep going.

He sighs and rubs a hand across his face before continuing his story.

"They took us a while back. Stuck us in separate cells and didn't tell us Jack-shit about what was going on. But before that, they injected us both with a serum that would... erase our memories. The next thing I remember was waking up in the X-Jet and you unconscious by my side.”

You nod silently, trying to remember. You frown to yourself.

He watches as you try to force your mind to try and remember the past. It frustrated him to see you frown like that. He hated seeing you like that. God— if he could, he would lost his memories too to keep you in company.

"Don't push it. You'll just end up giving yourself a headache.”

"Can you say more about us?" Your eyes are a bit glassy and you feel your throat sore.

He nods and takes a deep breath before answering you, trying to ignore your glassy eyes. You were holding back your emotions, that much he could tell, and he absolutely hated it.

"I... I don't even know where to start. So much has happened between us in the past three years. You and I... we share something that's pretty special, darling. I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you— and I don't think I ever will.”

You nod, holding a sob for not remembering. You wanted to beat you up, throw yourself and the floor and scream. He watches as you try to keep yourself together. He wanted to give you space to process everything, but seeing you like that was absolutely killing him. It takes every ounce of his control not to move closer to you and pull you into his arms.

"We have the same room?" You were trying to distract yourself. In fact, his voice was soothing.

He nods, smiling slightly at you. He was grateful that you were trying to change the subject. He didn't really want to talk in-depth about the past. Not when it was hurting you like that.

"We do, yeah. I like having you close by. You give me less reasons to go looking for you when I'm bored.”

You hug your legs, nodding. Logan sighs as his heart tightens a bit seeing you hugging your legs like that. You looked so insecure and so unlike your usual confident and tough self. It kills him to see you like that— broken.

"Can I sit next you?" He asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. It was odd asking you permission to a thing he would do so naturally.

You lift your eyes to his, thinking for some seconds before nodding. You shift to give him more room on the tiny bed of the Med Bay. He smiles slightly at your nod and moves closer to you, sitting right next to you. He makes sure to leave a small space between you so you don't feel smothered.

"Thank you." He says gently as he looks at you. The way he looks at you is almost painful, he looks exhausted.

"What time is it?" You furrow your brows.

He glances over at the wall clock. It was getting pretty late into the evening.

"About... nine pm. Why?"

"You can go rest on your room." You nod, reassuring. "You don't need to be with me all the time."

He groans and rolls his eyes. Resting was that last thing on his mind right now. There was absolutely no way in hell that he would leave you alone here.

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here by your side in this damn room.” His strong genius was something else. In the same way he needed to be patient with you, you needed to be patient with him.

"Why?" You say in a frown. "You need to rest. How long you've sleeping here waiting for me to wake up?"

He sighs when you ask him that question. That was something he did not want to talk about right now. He didn't want you worrying about him. It felt wrong. His eyes leaves your face before speaking up.

"About four damn days. I— I refused to leaver this room at all. I didn't want to miss the moment you woke up.”

"Oh God." Your heart sinks as you look at him. You put your hand on his. "You need to rest."

He groans in annoyance again, but he secretly loves the feeling of your hand on top of his. It felt electrifying.

"I'm fine. I don't need to rest, I can go a few more days without sleeping.”

"Logan..." Your eyes snap. His name. You said his name without him remembering you.

His eyes widen slightly at the sound of you saying his name. It was the first time since you lost your memories that you said his name without him having to tell you first. He looks at you intensely and studies your pretty face.

"I—" You frown, worried that may not be his name by his reaction. "Is that your name, right?"

He nods, feeling a mix of emotions. Relief, love, happiness, sadness, worry, fear. Seeing you struggling to remember things, even his name, was killing him.

"That's my name, darlin'. Good job.”

"Me on the past probably said your name a lot of times for this to happen." You chuckle, looking down. He laughs slightly at your comment.

"Yeah, you said my name quite frequently. In a multitude of ways.” He had that lazy charming grin tugging on his lips.

Your jaw drops as you realize.

"Ew, I don't need details."

He laughs again and rolls his eyes. There's the sarcasm and witty comeback that were so uniquely "you".

"Why not? Afraid you may like it if I tell you the details? Because I can tell you.” He arch one of his brows, ready to say it.

"Say it." Suddenly you dare him, looking at his eyes.

He groans and grins. You were actually daring him to tell you about the naughty stuff? Goddamn, he loved you so much. He looks right into your eyes and says, his tone lower and huskier than usual.

"Are you sure you want me to tell you about all the ways you've said my name before?"

"Yeah. Why, scared?" You tease back, almost eagerly.

He chuckles again, loving the fact that you were starting to act more and more like your old self.

"Not in the slightest. Just checking. I just don't you to feel 'overwhelmed' by the details.”

"Go ahead." You say as you shift your seat, anxious.

He laughs and grins at your anxiousness. He's been holding back for the last few days and now that you were giving him the green light to say and talk about the things on his mind, damn right he wasn't going to hold back even for a second.

"Whenever you said my name, it was never just my name. It was always 'oh Logan' or 'oh God, Logan' or my personal favorite; 'oh Logan, yes, please', or 'please, Logan, yes.'"

"Shut up!" You wide your eyes as you laugh, tapping his mouth with yours hands before someone can hear it. He laughs under your hands.

"Hey" He mumbles against your hand. "You asked for details. Now you get to deal with them.”

"Jesus." Your jaw are dropped as you laugh, removing your hand of his lips.

He grins and grins even wider as he hears you laughing again. You have no idea how much he loved that sound. It was almost like music to his ears.

"You know that's not even the half of it, right?"

"Oh God." You burst in laughs, shaking your head. "There’s more?!"

He laughs as he watches you crack up and nods. Oh yeah, there was definitely more where that came from.

"Oh yeah, a whole lot more. I could go on for hours talking about the ways you say my name."

"You're terrible." You say as you tap his mouth again before he would say anything else.

He grins and chuckles again, loving the way you're playing with him. He can feel your fingers right against his lips. He really wants to grab your hand and kiss the palm of it.

"I'm terrible? You're the one who insisted on knowing all the details."

You low your hand as you shift on your knees to have a better look on him.

"You can give me more?" You asked so shy, feeling a bit eager. That memories seems to be so precious.

He looks at you and immediately feels his insides melt as you get on your knees to look at him. God, you were adorable. He tries to sound serious when he answers your question.

"Of course I can.”

"Can you say some details of me and you?" You sit on your legs to listen to him.

He thinks about your question for a moment. What kinds of details did you want to know? Before he starts, he moves a bit closer to you so your knee is almost touching his thigh.

"Sure." He says as he looks at you. "What kind of details we talking about? First date, our first time, when we first confessed to each other?"

"Everything. Start with the first date." You grin just like a teenager receiving gossip.

He laughs at your reaction. You were acting like a little kid listening to a very interesting story. You were absolutely adorable. He had to fight the urge to pull you into his lap and snuggle you close.

"The first date, huh. Alright" He grins back at you, arching his brows as he quickly lick his lips. "Well, it all started when you agreed to go on a date with me in the first place. You were being all snarky, of course. Didn't want to go at first.”

"Ha." You roll your eyes. "So, how did you convinced me?"

He laughs as he thinks back to the memory of the first time he tried to ask you out. You didn't make it easy for him at all.

"Well, like I said, you didn't want to go on a date with me at all." He says grinning "You thought I was a pain in the ass.”

You let a laugh escape, listening to him.

He grins again, loving the sound of you laughing. He takes you back to that first date as he continues to speak.

"I had to beg, and pretty much pester you for like an entire week before you finally said yes to go on a date with me.”

"And the date was good or a completely mess?" You sit at his side again, leaning on the headboard.

He laughs as he feels your body sitting right next to his. He can feel the heat of your body so damn close to his.

"Oh, god no, it was a complete mess. I'll admit it to you right now, that was the most awkward date I've ever had in my life.”

"Oh." You rub your face painfully. "What happened?"

He laughs again as he remembers just how awkward that date was.

"Everything, basically. I was so damn nervous, you were so damn quiet, we basically sat almost in complete silence for the entire date.”

"Jesus." You shake your head, surprised. "How did— how did you kept interested on me?"

He laughed again. He has no idea how he managed to keep his interest on you after that horrible date.

"Honestly, I still can't answer that question" He sighs before shaking his head and continuing. His eyelashes brushed his cheek softly as he blinks. "I just... just something about you kept me interested, despite how absolutely damn awkward our first date was."

"Okay," You nod, taking mental notes. "How about... our first time?"

He glances at you and sighs. Seeing your eyes on him, looking at him with anticipation, it made his heart beat just a little bit faster and his mind go a little more fuzzy.

"You want the details on that one, too, huh?"

"Please." You nod, keeping your eyes on his.

He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck as he prepares to tell you about your first ever time together as a couple. He can feel his face heating up, it's almost a little embarrassing to talk about the intimate details of that day.

"Alright, the first time, huh" He says as he looks at you. "You were... really nervous about it, which, honestly, caught me a little off guard, considering how you were usually so confident about everything.” He frowns a bit.

"Yeah?" You asked curiously. "And— what happened?"

He laughs softly as he remembers the events of that night. As awkward as it was at first, it was still one of his best memories.

"We— well, it was pretty rocky and awkward at first. We weren't exactly, um, communicating well at the time. But then we just... things, I suppose you could say. We started really getting into it, and by the end, we both had a damn good time.” He grins at you in a tender manner.

"So you managed to get me comfortable." You could feel your heart getting warmer.

He smiles slightly at you. Yeah, he managed to get you comfortable. He managed to get you to lower your guard.

"Yeah. I managed to get you to relax enough to enjoy what we were doing." His eye flutter, remembering.

"And our confessing? How was that? When happened?" You say as you lean on him, unconsciously.

He grins at your question. God, that was almost as nerve-racking as the first date. It took him a ridiculously long time work up the courage to confess to you for the first time.

"God, it took me forever to work up the courage to confess to you and to tell you I had feelings for you.” He chuckles, rubbing his face.

"Tell me, please." You plead, completely taken by his memories. "Details." He sighs and groans slightly as you demand the details from him. It's almost like you're making him go back through all those stressful moments again.

"Fine, I'll tell you the details." He says, feigning annoyance. "It was the middle of the damn night. We were on that damn jet after a mission, and I waited until you were completely alone to corner you and tell you how I felt."

"You waited after a mission to confess at the X-Jet?" You frown a bit. That shit must be funny as hell.

He laughs slightly at your reaction, nodding to confirm your statement.

"Yeah, I waited until after a mission. I wanted to make sure you were alone and you had enough time to relax before I approached you about it. I was worried you were going to kick my ass or something."

"This is the worst time ever." You, chuckling. "And what did I said?"

He grins again and laughs, agreeing with you. It was probably the worst time to pick to confess to someone.

"You thought I was making a bad joke at first. You weren't even taking me seriously when I told you I was being serious. So, I had to try and convince you that I was being completely serious about my feelings for you."

"How did you convinced me?" You were enjoying this conversation —and silently loving hearing his voice talking nonstop.

He grins again, loving the way you look so interested in what he has to say. It gives him the courage to continue to tell you every single little detail he can remember from the night he confessed to you.

"I told you that I had been feeling that way for a really long time. That it wasn't some random, stupid joke. I had to literally sit you down and convince you that I felt that way about you. It took a really long time to persuade you to believe me."

"And what I said later? I kicked you?" You frown, curious.

He laughs softly and grins.

"No, sugar. You didn't kick me. You were still a little stunned and confused, but I saw how— how your eyes suddenly flared up as soon as you finally understood what I was saying. There was no way I was going to let you run away when you were looking at me like that"

"Looking how?" You keep your eyes on his, it was impossible to look away. That hazel eyes burned on yours in a way your mind couldn't ratiocinate.

He looks into your eyes intently as he thinks about how you reacted that night. He remembers your eyes looking at him with shock, confusion, excitement, surprise, and then a flare of intense heat.

"Like you didn't want me to stop talking. Like you wanted me to keep going and keep explaining myself. Your eyes were flared up, and you were looking at me with so damn much heat in your gaze that I almost pounced right on you right then and there."

You could feel your heart bumping as he talks.

He returns your intense gaze, feeling drawn to you. Just like that night, he feels the urge to pount on you again and just take you, right here and right now. But he holds back, for now. He still had plenty of details to tell you about. And yet— you need time and space.

"I swear, you were looking at me like you wanted to devour me."

You grin to him, keeping the eye contact.

"Do you— do you believe in soulmates?" The way his presence would absolve all the ambiance, God, that wasn’t normal.

He grins back, loving the way you keep looking at him. Damnit, he could look into your eyes for hours.

"I... I don't know if I buy into the whole 'soulmate' thing.” He says jokingly. "I wasn't sure I could ever have a soulmates until the moment I met you."

"It's so weird." You narrow your eyes, putting your hand on your chest. "I don't remember a thing, but I feel so comfortable with you."

He smiles and sighs. Yeah, it was a bit weird. You don't remember anything about him or your life together. But he's happy at the fact that you're feeling comfortable around him.

"Don't overthink it.”. He says softly. "Maybe the mind forgets, but the body and the heart never does."

You melt under his words, wanting to beat yourself for forgetting. How could him be so charming?

He keep his eyes on you, loving the way you look right now. Like you're absolutely smitten by him right now. He really does wonder sometimes how his tongue manages to be so silver. It's gotten him into plenty of trouble over the years, but right now, he's so very happy with how it's working for him.

"And what is your favorite memory?" You don’t want to pull away from his hazel eyes.

His smile softens as he immediately thinks of his favorite memory with you. There were plenty of moments and memories he loved, but one in particular stuck out, even among his favorites.

"My favorite memory, huh?”

He looks into your own eyes as he grins again and sighs softly, thinking about his most favorite memory of the two of you together.

"My favorite memory was the day you told me you loved me back for the first time."

"Can you tell me about this one?" You plead, even worrying about asking him too much.

He smiles and chuckles, immediately thinking about that moment, one of his all time favorite moments of his life.

"Of course. I can tell you all about it." He says softly as he lets himself become immersed in that specific memory. "It wasn't some big and elaborate moment, to be honest. It was just the two of us in the living room, just relaxing together. I was just talking, babbling about some trivial stuff that happened when I was away on a mission. I made some joke about something, and you just— just looked at me with that sweet little smile and said."

You keep silent, feeling a bit emotional.

"Thank you for having patience with me. I know I can't stop throwing questions on you."

He laughs softly and grins, shrugging his shoulders. He honestly doesn't mind it at all. He gets to talk about his memories with you and seeing the wonder in your eyes as you listen to his stories. That's all the incentive he needs.

"Don't worry about it. You can ask as much questions as you want. I ain't going anywhere."

You gulp some tears. You glance away, feeling your heart clenching.

"I just—" You pause, gulping a sob. "I'm just feeling so cared right now, I’m sorry."

He immediately notices how distressed you sound and how your face is starting to crumble. He immediately feels the need to comfort you. To make sure you're okay.

"Hey, hey it's alright.” He says soothingly as he moves closer to you. His smell filling your nostrils— pine, musk, cigarettes, leather. "Hey, there's nothing to be sorry about, alright? Don't cry, cmon."

You chuckle at his worried face, trying to pull the tears away.

He watches as you try to hold back your tears, feeling the need to reassure you. He wants to wrap you up in a tight hug and soothe you, but he's not sure if it would be alright to make a move like that at the moment.

"Hey, listen." He says. "you don't have to apologize for anything, alright? Don't let these damn tears fall."

You look at him with the tears already falling.

"Too late." You smile to him.

He groans to himself as he sees your tears fall. He can hear the wavering in your voice as you struggle to speak, and it's making him really want to just pull you close and hold you close to him to stop your tears.

"Dammit... don't do that, okay? Don't cry like that" he tries to sound stern, but it's a useless effort. He just sounds concerned for you now.

"I feel lucky to have you, even If I don't remember a thing." Your voice cracked.

His heart squeezes when he hears your voice crack. You sound so— so distraught right now, and hearing you like that is not sitting well with him at all.

"Hey, don't talk like that, love." He says as he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "I'm the lucky one here. I'm the luckiest man in the damn world right now."

"For what? Having a girlfriend with amnesia?" You whisper with sad eyes, you almost laughed without humor, almost.

He frowns, feeling himself getting a bit angry at your words. How dare you think he's unhappy about you losing your memories. It's certainly not ideal, but he won't let you talk like that about yourself.

"Just shut up, alright?" He says firmly. "So what if you can't remember any damn thing? I still love you. I don't care if you remember me or not, I still love you.” He says as he holds you by your shoulders.

You wide your eyes, looking at him. The way you look at him just like that day, the day that he confessed. The same burning way. He could feel his guts twisting. You look like he's the most precious thing in the world to you, just like you did the night he confessed to you. It reminds him of that night. Makes his heart beat a little bit faster as a smile slowly appears on his face.

"Darlin..." He says in a low, soft tone.

"Yes?" You whisper, wiping a tear.

He sees your face, the tears staining your cheeks. He wants to hold you so damn badly. He wants to pull you tight against his body and whisper sweet things against your ear, promising to take care of you and never let you get hurt again.

"Come here for a second." He ask, opening his body language to you.

You reach him, laying your face on his chest as you embrace his waist. You could feel the warmth of his body comforting you. He grins again as you immediately move so close to him. He can feel your soft, slender arms wrapping around his waist and your face burying into his chest. He feels his heart skip a beat as he realizes that you're willingly getting closer to him and wrapping yourself around him.

"Shhh... it's alright. I got you" He soothes as he wraps his arms around your body and pulls you flush against his chest.

You close your eyes, and for one second— you felt like in home.

He rests his chin on the top of your head, holding you tight. The feeling of your body pressing against him is one of the best feelings in the world. You feel so small in his embrace, he wants nothing more than to keep holding you close to him, to keep you safe in his arms and to never let you get hurt ever again.

"Close your eyes.” He whispers. "Just listen to my heartbeat and focus on that."

Logan can hear you sniffling again and feels the way your hands are tightly clutching at his shirt as you bury your face against his chest. He can hear the way your breathing is getting a little bit more heavy as you're desperately attempting to force your tears to stop.

"It's alright.” He whispers softly. "Just focus on my heartbeat, alright? Focus on that and nothing else. Just breathe and relax.”

He smiles to himself again, he can feel your heart slowing down as you start to focus on the sound of his heartbeat. He feels so damn happy having you in his arms like this. Being able to hold you and comfort you. He can't get enough of the way your body feels pressed up against his, and he knows he'll never get enough of this.

"There you go, good girl" He says, rubbing his hand up and down your back. "Just keep listening to my heartbeat."

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4st4rion · 10 months

Note

if you ever feel like it i would love to see a fic where astarion's ears are particularly sensitive + tav finds out about this and begins testing his limits !! i wanna see him lathered in love and taken care of and made to feel good + i really love your fics🤍

ao3 link!

this was SUCH a cute prompt!! I had fun whipping this up 😊 let me know if you're on ao3 and I can gift it to you there as well!

made to feel good

500ish words, rating teen to mature, ear petting and some kissing, and second person pov (so astarion x you)

It happens by complete accident.

You just... Reach out. His hair is wild, as usual, and you think it'd be cute to tuck it behind his ear, and he shivers at your warm fingers brushing over it.

Time stops; he looks as surprised as you feel, like cornered prey, and you pull your hand back quickly.

"Sorry," you say, fast. "Was that uncomfortable?"

"No," he says, also fast, and his voice cracks in half on it. "No, no, it was... It was fine," he says, looking away from you and then back, then away again.

Nervous. You haven't seen him nervous like this in a while.

Slowly, you reach out again — he has ample time to stop you or tell you not to, but instead, he leans imperceptibly closer. He trusts you, deeply and fully, and your heart swells with love being reminded of it once again.

This time, you run two fingertips over his ear with plain intent. You trace the shape of it from the base to the tip, and he shudders.

"That is... Rather nice," he admits, so quiet you can only just hear him over the crackle of the fire.

You turn toward him properly and bring your other hand to his opposite ear, and this time, you pet your thumbs over the lobes and dip into the ridges, gently massaging warmth into his corpse-cold skin.

"Is this okay?"

He nods.

You continue.

At some point, he shuts his eyes. He leans into your touch like a satisfied cat leaning into pets, and it's hard not to smile at how relaxed he looks as you pet and squeeze his ears from top to bottom.

You pause briefly to pet his face, too, thumbing lightly over his cheeks and pecking him on the lips, and his eyes remain shut as he smiles in your hands.

Gods, he's beautiful. You still can't believe you're lucky enough to be with him.

You kiss him again, fingers returning to his ears, and he makes a soft, needy noise against your mouth when you stay there and he kisses back.

You stay like that for a while, kissing while your hands idly stroke and pet his ears. You scoot closer in the dirt to hold him and he scoots closer to be held, the two of you slowly entangling as much as you can with as little movement as possible.

You don't pull away until he whines against your mouth and you can feel him squirm against you.

It's only the two of you that remain at the fire in the middle of your camp. Everyone else went to their tents a while ago.

"Would you like to go to your tent?" you ask quietly, and his eyes shoot open.

"Yes," he says too quickly.

He clears his throat.

"Yes," he repeats, in a lower, more seductive tone. "I would like that."

"Okay," you say, and kiss him one more time.

You sit there nose to nose for another long moment before his smile falters. Your smile grows wider when he stands abruptly and turns away, toward his tent, and you make out the outline of a bulge in his breeches as he does.

You wonder how he'll react when you put your mouth to work on his ears, too, an even warmer heat than your fingers and much more tactile.

You imagine you'll find out.

#astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #idk what else to tag this tbh. it'll reach its audience idk lmao

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griefabyss69 · 3 months

Text

Blown A Wish

Written for @steddiemicrofic!

[ AO3 ]

'STUFF' wc: 483 | rated: E | cw: The mild breath play that sometimes comes with oral sex

A little love letter to men who love to suck dick; Steve finds out he's one of them.

While Steve’s always been pretty good with his mouth, learning fast when it came to whistling, the perfect smile, and eating people out, Eddie beckons him onto grass of another shade of green.

It's newness. He hasn’t experienced anything like it since he lost his virginity in his teens. Instead of the earth cracking open to let in demons, the stagnant path of his sexuality has split into fresh forks.

"There you go," Eddie says, one hand on Steve's cheek, the other in his hair. "Ease into it."

Steve thinks about the closest he's gotten to this; an adventurous date sitting on his face. He'd open his jaw as far as it'd go, but it’s still so different. Eddie’s stuffed inside of him; he's never been filled like this in his life.

His palm presses harder to feel his cock through Steve’s cheek, and he melts, starting to get the hang of not choking as Eddie carefully pushes him further every time he thrusts.

It's been very slow, one step at a time, but he's patient; happy on his knees.

"Jesus, you’re too good," Eddie groans, his fingers twitching against his head. “It’s unfair.”

Nobody’s fucking kidding when they say Eddie doesn’t shut up, but Steve's bathing in the praise, the gold-medal glow in his chest; If dick sucking was a competition, he'd train daily. The fact of the heavy throb on his tongue makes it sweeter, even as Eddie works past Steve's soft palate to bump into his throat.

It’s like floating underwater, a mermaid guiding their mouths together in a life-saving kiss; he's drowning, but not really, even if he can't breathe like this.

Eddie hisses, his hips pushing until Steve feels his pubes against his face. He could die happy with Eddie's fingers rubbing absently through his hair, with his dick resting so deeply.

"Getting close, you doing okay?" Eddie asks in a hazy mumble.

Steve gives him a thumbs up. He needs to breathe, but all he wants is to kneel here and feel Eddie's heartbeat inside of himself. He pulls back and Eddie slides out of his mouth.

"Gotta breathe," he says, palms on Eddie's thighs. "Then you can come in me."

Eddie’s eyes shut as if watching Steve is unbearable. He wonders if he looks as messy as he feels; tears, spit, deeply flushed.

"How are you so good at this?" Eddie asks, almost complaining about it. “Insane.”

"Hotdog eating contests," he jokes, and settles in as Eddie laughs. "I'm ready."

Eddie cups his jaw and guides his dick to Steve’s mouth, making hot eye contact as he pushes in. He's gentle; Steve notices how hard he’s holding back, so he shoves forward until he's stuffed full again. Eddie chokes and shudders and he starts thrusting, shaky and uncoordinated, grinding up against Steve’s face until he’s coming down his throat.

Steve melts while he drowns in it.

#griefabyss69 writing #steddiemicroficjune #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic

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elfyelation · 1 year

Text

𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 | oneshot

pairing—astarion x gn!reader summary—nightmares were nothing new to astarion, he’d been living one long before the tadpoles settled themselves inside your heads. now, however, it seemed there was something he feared even more than the possibility of returning to his former master… warnings—mentions of slavery, nightmares, indication of past abuse/trauma, mentions of astarion’s past, angst, some fluff word count—811 rating—teen

He tosses and turns in his sleep, another cruel nightmare tearing through his slumber.

You hear him mumble, hot sweat running across his creased brow, “No... M-master… please… No…”

His body is still trembling when his words trail off, the discomfort never leaving his face. His eyes squeeze themselves even tighter shut in a frail attempt to push the thoughts from his mind.

You were awake now, concern threading through your brow as you shushed him and ran a gentle hand over his cheek.

“Astarion? Astarion, wake up.” It is no use, your voice is but a distant echo — a whisper in the darkest depths of his mind. There is no way to free him, he is a prisoner of his own mind. All you can do is wait for him to open his eyes himself.

You sit up then, moving to pull his head into your lap. Quietly, you comb your fingers through his ice-white hair. His skin is hot to the touch as if he were stricken with a fever so foul it scorched from the depths of all hells.

Softly, you called out again, “Astarion.”

Still, he does nothing but stir, head rolling from side to side in agony.

Leaning down, you press a light kiss to his crumpled forehead and finally, his skin smooths out. It takes a moment but soon his eyes flicker open and look up at you with wide, startled eyes.

“It’s okay,” you remind him, continuing to run your fingers through his hair, “You’re with me, you’re safe.”

He smiles but it only lasts for a moment and his eyes close again as he readjusts to his surroundings. His hand reaches up to rub at the tense skin on his face and even he seems to be surprised by the heat he finds there. He was always cool to the touch, even on the warmest summer day. Another side effect of his foul affliction.

“It isn’t me I’m worried about,” he all but whispers, as if he is unsure whether he wants to show any more weakness in front of you.

Then he sits, lifting his head from its comfortable place in your lap, and turns to you. His eyes flicker over your body as if searching for wounds and he closes his eyes again as he takes in a deep breath. “You are safe, that is all that matters.”

When you involuntarily raise a brow in question, he sighs and returns to his charismatic persona. “I was dreaming of you, darling. Although that dream would not be my preferred scenario, I must admit.”

Still, you watched him, waiting until he was ready to tell you the full truth.

He knew what you were doing. He knew you too well. You did not need to say anything for him to know you were waiting for elaboration. He could confide in you, he knew that. It was just… difficult at times to speak it out loud.

He seemed to shrink as his eyes flitted away from you, glancing at the ground for a moment before he looked back up at you again.

“Cazador had captured you. Captured us both. Instead of hurting me, he was hurting you. He was hurting you to hurt me and I could do nothing but sit by helplessly as it happened.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, and he leaned into your welcome touch.

“It was just a dream. I’m here and I’m safe. We’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let him.”

Usually, he’d have laughed at your words and told you that you were a fool for thinking he was truly out of his former master’s reach. One day Cazador would find him for in his search he was relentless. He would not let even a single slave escape him, not while he still lived.

Someday Astarion would have to face the music but, until that day came he wanted to enjoy the time he had with you. And, after hearing you speak that way, sounding so sure of yourself, he found he wanted to believe it too. That you would be by his side when the day came and that the two of you would emerge victorious, standing over the vampire lord’s corpse.

Until then, he’d offer you an honest smile and wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him as he pushed his lips to yours.

He wasn’t sure when he stopped being afraid for himself and rather became afraid of losing you but it was a small price to pay in comparison to the joy you brought him. You had given him a purpose in life. A purpose that was more than just survival. You had shown him what it was to truly love and for that, he would forever be in your greatest debt.

#—warrenwrites ✦#astarion x reader #astarion x gn!reader #astarion #astarion angst #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #bg3 #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #astarion fanfiction #astarion fluff

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cloudshapedpatch · 8 months

Text

Burgers and Lilies

Reth x Reader one shot

(canon compliant, no spoilers, ft. Shepp!Hassian)

Rated Teen for some spicy stuff at the end ;)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Y/N’s hands were steady as she pulled the arrow back, feeling the pull of the bow deep in her shoulder, just like Hassian had taught her. The wind was gentle, rustling her hair and the grass gently as she focused on her prey. She knelt there, still as a tree, lining up the shot. The unsuspecting chapaa wouldn’t feel a thing.

She heard a rustle in the grass behind her, and the chapaa must have heard it too, because it perked its ears, chirped, and ran in the opposite direction.

“Sorry.” She heard a sweet voice behind her, and she could never be mad when he sounded so genuinely remorseful.

“Its okay, Reth.” Y/N lowered the bow and put the arrow back in its holding case with the rest. She stood then, and turned around to face him with a smile. “There are plenty of others.”

Her smile only grew wider as she saw the picnic basket he was holding, and he held it up a little higher as he spoke. “When you didn’t come in for lunch like you usually do, I figured you were lost in the hunt again.”

“I never know how much time has passed when I’m out here.” Y/N said sheepishly.

“I know. Should we sit?”

“Don’t you have to get back to the Inn? The dinner rush will be starting soon.”

“Ashura told me to take my time.” Reth was already getting comfortable in the grass, so she followed suit and watched him take out the sandwiches carefully.

Y/N was glad for Reth’s company. Reth had been one of the first people she properly met after materializing in the ruins. She didn’t know much about what was supposed to be normal for humans, but she figured by how Jina, the resident Human Expert, had reacted, it wasn’t normal to appear in a cloud of pink mist and sparkles. At least, that’s not how the Majiri operated. Most of what she had learned about their way of life had come from Reth and his sister, Tish. They had taken a special liking to her almost immediately.

“Copper for your thoughts?” Reth said, with his mouth full. She smiled at his boyish nature.

“Just thinking about how much has changed for me since coming here. I’m sure my life before was very different than this.” She could tell this from a number of signs. Her hands had been soft, and her arms lithe when she first came into Kilima. Her body had not known a day’s work like she had grown accustomed to. Y/N’s hands were worn and rough with calluses now, and her muscles, while not much compared to Sifuu, were still visible. And she could run faster and farther and haul sernuk much easier now. She was sure the magic pack Zeki had given her, plus Kilima’s fresh air and pleasant weather was helping as well.

He nodded thoughtfully, considering his words before speaking. “Have you ever thought about what your life was like before? Not just human life in general, but yours specifically?”

She had heard the word ‘memory’ before, and while she was sure she had some memories, they were not the kind Reth was talking about. Like she could remember watering her plants this morning, and she could remember shooting her bow for the first time. But these memories were vivid in her mind, having been so recent. She was told older memories got fuzzy with the passing of time.

“I have.” She said shortly, not feeling like she wanted to get into it. “I really like my life now, though.”

She leaned over and nudged her shoulder against Reth’s, pushing him slightly. He exaggerated the gesture and dramatically fell back into the grass. She placed her sandwich down on top of the basket and laid next to him and looked at the clouds.

She could feel an uncomfortableness radiating from Reth, though, like he wanted to say something but was holding back. Turning her head to look at him, she found him already looking at her, and he quickly looked up and away.

Reth was… something. She wasn’t sure what this feeling was in her chest when he was around. It was different from the feeling of wanting to gossip or craft with Tish, or the feeling of wanting Hassian to be proud of her for hunting a large animal all by herself. It was deeper, and made her anxious, and made her feel warm all at once.

Like she needed Reth to understand her, deeply, deeper than she knew herself.

She was sure this was a purely human emotion, because Reth always seemed calm and collected. At least, now he did. When he had first spoken to her, though, he had tripped over his words greatly.

“When I first met you,” he started, seeming to read her thoughts, “I had never seen a human before. And it surprised me.”

She let that hang there for a moment, feeling like there was something he still wasn’t saying. “What surprised you?”

She was still looking at him but he was none the wiser, his eyes locked on the sky. His cheeks slowly darkened to a magenta color.

She felt something soft and gentle on her fingers, and upon looking down she found it was Reth’s own hand, slowly sliding in the grass closer to her own. She took in a quiet deep breath to calm herself, even as it felt like pure Flow was shooting up her arm at the contact. She was very confused, but allowed him to take her hand in his and intertwined their fingers. She didn’t understand the purpose of it, and yet she found it was quite pleasant and didn’t want to let go. So she relaxed into the grass, and gave his hand a small squeeze. He reciprocated the gesture, finally turning his head to look at her. He smiled at her then, a wide smile that made her toes curl in her boots and ingrained itself in her mind. His eyes sparkled in a way she had never seen before.

Y/N looked away first, pointing out a cloud that looked like a star. Reth chuckled and squeezed her hand once more, agreeing with her, before he suddenly gasped and sat up, looking towards the basket.

“Oh! I brought you something. Caleri waived my late fees so I could bring you this. I’m lucky she likes you so much.”

He handed her half-eaten sandwich to her, which she took another bite of as he opened the basket and produced a book, handing it over. Y/N sat up as well, taking it from him gently. Their hands touched briefly, and a burst of warmth blossomed in her chest. Ignoring it, she studied the strange writing on the worn red cover. It looked like English characters, but it was too worn to make out the words on the cover.

“You found this in the library?”

“I know, right? In the small Human section. I think it’s a cookbook. Look inside.”

She looked at him and shared his excited smile, then opened it to a random page. The pages were old and stuck together, and made a pleasant crackling sound as the spine expanded. Near the middle of the book, at the top of the page, was a full color picture of a cooked dish. It looked odd, it was a stack of bread and what looked like vegetables and meat. The writing at the top of the page read Burger.

Reth peeked over her shoulder, scooting closer to get a better look. Their legs were pressed together as he mouthed out the foreign word.

“Bur-jer.” He said confidently.

Y/N repeated the word. Jina would get a kick out of this. She wondered if she had read this book. She must have, but then again, Jina had never mentioned any human foods before. “I think it’s pronounced ‘bur-gur’, actually. Feels better in my human mouth.”

Reth laughed and threw his hands up. “Hey, you’re the expert. Do you want to try and cook it?”

“But we can barely read the recipe!”

“Won’t it be fun? I’m sure we could figure it out.”

The idea did sound very appealing. She would love to get closer to her roots, and she would never deny spending time with Reth.

“Let’s do it.”

He nodded, putting a handkerchief between the pages to mark the place.

They sat in the grass and talked a little while longer before Reth announced he had to get back to the Inn, so they packed up and parted ways.

Back at her housing plot, after Y/N had washed the chapaa meat and furs in a bucket of pond water, she wondered about her odd feelings for Reth, and the tightness in her chest when she thought about him. She stood at her stove, grilling the savory meat and letting the smell fill the air. Sometimes, when she cooked, she felt sad, and wished she was cooking with others. Cooking alone felt deeply wrong to her, and she could not explain why. She let herself feel the sadness, and then let it wash away when she was done, just like Jel had taught her. And by that time the meat had finished cooking. But as she reached to grab a plate (from the set that Elouisa had gifted her) she accidentally hit the hot pan and burned her hand.

All at once, her mind’s eye was filled with the sight of a kitchen that wasn’t hers. The wallpaper was different, and there were many plants, and more cabinets. A woman whom she had never seen before, and yet felt so familiar, with skin tan like her own, fawned over her.

“Oh dear, did you burn yourself, button? Come to the sink.”

The woman grabbed her wrist gently and led her to the sink, and turned the handle. Cool water started flowing from what she recollected was called a ‘faucet’. The woman, her mother, put her hand under the cold flow of the water until the burning sensation stopped.

And then Y/N was standing alone once again, holding her injured hand to her chest. Luckily, her sink basin was already filled with fresh water from the pond, so she submerged her hand in the cool water until the familiar burning stopped once again.

Was that a memory? Was that what remembering felt like? Her mother looked so similar to herself. She had so many questions, and she knew that no one else would have answers. Suddenly she felt so alone, even in this village of kind people, she felt totally isolated.

– – – –

The next day felt very weird. After her odd kitchen experience the night before, Y/N had tossed and turned all night and didn’t get a wink of sleep. She ended up chopping many trees to take her mind off it, and after that didn’t help, she figured she would head into town and see if Hassian wanted help filling his meat supply for sale. The hunting in silence seemed to help a bit, and she always enjoyed his company, but every time she pulled back an arrow in the bow, the burn on her hand ached, and she remembered her mother’s face. And after that, she spent some time with Tish and Jel in the square before their shops opened. But as Tish complained of washing her cotton in pond water and finding a tadpole in her fabric later, the memory of the convenience of running water came flooding back. So she spent the day on her housing plot, alone and wallowing, unsure of what to do with herself.

When she didn’t show up for lunch again that day at the Inn, Reth thought at first it was because she was hunting. But after speaking with Hassian and learning she had already been hunting that morning, worry took over. It wasn’t like her to run off without telling someone where she was going. Everyone worried over her, being the only human any of them had ever seen, and having just materialized just a few months ago, the village as a whole didn’t want her to get lost or injured or worse. He couldn’t leave the Inn and go all the way to her house himself, but he could do one better.

So late that afternoon, Y/N was surprised when she got a knock at her door, and was even more surprised to find Auni at her doorstep with a small paper bag. Usually he just left packages in the mailbox or on her porch, even if she was home, so she found it odd that he knocked.

“Heya! Reth sent me with some food for ya. Wanted to know where you were.”

She smiled at him. Even though she didn’t feel like smiling, Auni was just a little ray of sunshine, and it was impossible not to be amused in his presence. And it warmed her heart to know Reth was thinking of her.

“Hey Auni, long time no see. Do you want to come in; I caught a few new bugs I wanna show you.”

He nodded enthusiastically, and when she was done showing him the butterflies and beetles, she sent him on his way with some fresh crab meat for his mother. Now she was left with her lunch (now, she supposed she could call it dinner), some carrot soup. Her favorite. When she was done eating the warm meal, she laid on her bed and smiled, kicking her feet and giggling that Reth would be so kind.

There were a lot of things she didn’t know, but maybe talking about them would be a good start.

– – – –

“Steady… Steady…” Nai’o hushed to the ormuu, patting it’s head while Y/N knelt beside the large animal, getting ready to milk it. She had never milked an ormuu before, and Nai’o was kind enough to offer to teach her after she had offhandedly expressed her curiosity about it a few sun cycles prior. Delaila even offered to share some of the resulting butter for her work.

He had taught her the hand motions, and once she started, it wasn’t so bad. Nai’o stood and watched and gave her encouragement as the bucket slowly filled with the good milk.

But her mind was elsewhere. Last week she had come around the corner of the City Hall and found him and Kenyatta behind the wall, doing what Tish called ‘sucking face’ but had learned the official word was ‘kissing’. It felt like an intrusion and she had pretended not to see them and had quietly snuck away, but the sight (and the curiosity) had stuck with her.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” She said, sure to say it loud enough to be heard over the mooing of the ormuu.

“Go ahead,” he replied instantly.

Y/N felt awkward bringing up the subject, and she wasn’t sure why. But she pushed ahead in the pursuit of answers.

“When you first met Kenyatta, what did you feel?”

“That’s tough. Kenyatta and I grew up together. We’ve always known each other.”

That made sense, but it wasn’t what she meant. She took a deep breath and turned away from the ormuu for a second to meet his eyes.

“What about when you started dating?” The word ‘dating’ was still new to her, but she had heard Kenyatta use it, so she was sure it applied at least to her and Nai’o.

“Well, when I realized that I had feelings for her, I tried everything to get her attention. I just wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.”

“Had feelings? What did those feel like?”

“Why, are you feeling this way? I wonder who the object of your affections is?” Nai’o teased.

She blushed, and went back to milking in hopes that Nai’o couldn’t see her dark cheeks. “Affections?” she asked, when she had found her voice.

Occasionally, the Majiri would say a word that Y/N did not recognise. It felt childish to have to ask what a word’s definition was (even if Y/N couldn’t remember her childhood). She had heard this word before, but not used in this way.

“Ah, how to explain it…” Nai’o said, mostly to himself as he thought for a moment. “If you have affections for someone, you like them more than you like everyone else. We call it love. It’s different than the love you feel for your parents or siblings or a close friend. You want to spend the rest of your life with that person.”

She thought about this for a moment. She didn’t have parents that she could remember, but Sifuu had joked many times that she had adopted Y/N and was her makeshift mother. And Y/N would do just about anything for Sifuu, so she guessed that was love, in a way. But she certainly did not want to kiss Sifuu. And she felt a camaraderie with Hassian, which Sifuu had also mentioned that Hassian, her Shepp, worried over her like an older brother (Hassian was not thrilled that his mother had mentioned his concerns, much like when he found out she had told Y/N about the poetry). And the mere thought of kissing Hassian made her want to throw up. And she felt proud of him in ways similar to how Tish described feeling over Reth. Now that she thought about it, she figured that Sifuu and Hassian were like her family, similar to the Daiya family. But what did that make Reth?

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Reth lately,” Nai’o continued when she didn’t say anything.

She had brought up the subject thinking about Reth, but now felt like she should be doing more for Sifuu and Hassian. But she liked finishing what she started, so she circled back in her mind to her ultimate concern: the weird pressing in her chest when she was with Reth.

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that you want to kiss Reth, don’t you?”

Her words stuck in her throat at his bluntness. Did she? “I don’t know.”

“I know what you can do,” He said, looking very proud of himself, “Go to Zeki’s and buy a box of chocolates. And then give it to Reth. See what he does.” He said with a wide smile, and he leaned down to pick up the now full bucket of milk. Y/N took the cue and followed him into the house, leaving the ormuu with a small pat.

“I thought chocolates were gifts for married folk only.”

“I give chocolates to Kenyatta all the time, and we aren’t married. Don’t you want to be like her and I?”

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure that she did, as the image of him and Ken with lips locked resurfaced, but she guessed it couldn’t hurt. “Alright, I’ll try it, and let you know.”

He clapped his hands and jumped up, in a demeanor she had never seen on Nai’o. His nosiness surprised her. “Good, tell me all the details. Ken is gonna love this.”

They went into the house and Delaila showed Y/N how the churn worked, and let her try her hand at churning the butter, but ultimately Del sent her on her way with some jam, and promised to have the butter delivered when it was finished.

– – – –

It wasn’t for many sun cycles that Y/N and Reth could work their schedules around and meet up to try the recipe. Anxiety bubbled in her chest at the thought of what she was going to do, but she also was apprehensive to cook again. After burning her hand, she had avoided her kitchen like it was tainted with the plague. As much as she had relished and replayed the memory of her mother in her head multiple times, she was scared it was going to happen again. Even though she was slowly growing used to recalling such an old memory, having it spring up so suddenly that first time was alarming.

She had already spoken to Jina about it, and she had urged Y/N to continue trying new things in hopes of triggering another memory to resurface. Y/N wasn’t exactly sure that she wanted that to happen, but maybe she could learn more about her own past, and about what happened to the humans in general.

So when the time came where Reth was on his way to her home, she was a little out of sorts. The box of chocolates was hidden in a cupboard until the right moment appeared, the ingredients (what she had) for the recipe were laid out on the counter, fresh water in the sink basin, and her home cleaned and reorganized. She had only had time to build two rooms since coming to Kilima, but her living-kitchen-entry was tidy and her bed was made in the next room. Even Eshe would be proud of the decorating.

After what felt like ages of pacing the floor, finally she heard a knock on her door. Wiping her sweaty hands on the new dress she had bought from Jel for the occasion, she opened the door.

There he stood, in a crisp blue button-down shirt, a bouquet of heartdrop lilies in hand, and a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, sweet-tooth. Ready to make Majiri food history?”

The sight of him alone was enough to make her swoon, but the flowers were something else entirely.

“Of course, come in, make yourself at home. Shoes off, please.” Y/N said hoping she masked the nervousness in her voice, and she accepted the flowers from him while he took off his boots. They were beautiful, and she had just bought a new vase the week prior too, so the timing was perfect. “Thank you for the flowers, they’re lovely.”

“Not as lovely as you.” He replied all too quickly, causing Y/N to blush profusely.

“Thank you.” She whispered, reaching into her cupboard for the vase and filling it with water. The flowers sat pretty on her table for two (she had crafted the second chair just for Reth that day), and the two of them washed their hands in preparation to cook.

“So first the recipe says to make the… the patty? I think it says.” Y/N said, looking at the open cookbook on the counter.

Reth came up behind her, putting an arm on the counter next to her and looking over her shoulder to attempt to read the book. She blushed at his close proximity. She could feel his breath gently on her neck.

“Sounds about right. I’ve never ground up meat before. How do you think we should do it?”

“Maybe we should just mince it and hope for the best.” She looked at him and was surprised just how close their faces were to one another. Despite her pounding heart, she liked being close to him.

“I can do that, easy peasy.” Reth smiled, locking eyes with her. “Where are your kitchen knives?”

“Um… I’ll get one.” Y/N sputtered. She had to get ahold of herself! She should be cool.

It was increasingly hard with the heartdrop lilies on the table, seemingly watching her.

While Reth minced the chapaa meat, Y/N worked on washing and cutting the tomatoes, lettuce, and onion. The recipe also called for something called ‘cheese’, but neither of them knew what that was, so they decided to just leave it out. They seasoned the minced meat with spice sprouts, wild garlic, and an egg, formed it into round patties, and grilled them on the stove. The recipe was worn over the part talking about the onions, so Reth suggested putting the onions on raw. And they didn’t have any ‘burger buns’, so they made do with hot hound buns instead.

"Hey, Reth, I have some news."

"Oh? Like what?" He asked, flipping one of the burger patties in the pan. She watched the action, and got distracted for a moment watching the muscles in his forearm ripple.

She twiddled her hands in anticipation. "I think I remembered something. About my past life, I mean."

At this, Reth perked up and gave his full attention to her. "Really? What did you remember?"

"It was odd, it just came so suddenly," Y/N started, then backtracked. "I was just cooking last week and burned myself, and I remembered a time when I was younger and had also burned myself while cooking, and my mother had taken me to the sink and run my hand under cold water to relieve the burn."

He thought about it for a moment, then replied, "Do you think you'll remember more things?"

"I don't know. I kind of hope so, but it was a little startling. Maybe next time it won't be as surprising."

He nodded, understanding. He could only sympathize with her since he would never experience losing all his memories and waking up in a strange place, but he was sure this was a new and exciting time for Y/N.

"Thank you for telling me. I hope you get to remember more about your past life."

"Of course, thanks for being here for me. No matter what I remember, though, you'll still be my favorite part of my new life."

Reth blushed at this, and went back to tending the meat in the pan, lest it burn like his cheeks.

The result of their efforts was a little oddly shaped, but upon sitting down to eat, found it was absolutely delicious. They enjoyed their meal together with good conversation, about Tish’s latest creation, Y/N’s new dress (Reth told her she looked absolutely stunning, cause her to nearly choke on her human burger in surprise), and Ashura mentioning something about a raise for Reth. And after, they washed the dishes together, standing too close together, arms touching, laughing and splashing water everywhere.

It was the best night Y/N had had in a long time. And it was all thanks to Reth.

“Hey, I’m having such a good time, do you think I could stay a little while longer?” He asked, when the last dish had been dried and put away.

“Of course, I don’t want you to go home yet either.” She admitted.

“What would you like to do?” He asked, plopping down on the couch and sinking back into the cushions.

“Actually, I have something for you.” Y/N admitted, feeling nervous and excited. Reth made her feel like she could do anything, and like she was on top of the world, and she hoped her gift would instill similar feelings in him. “But you have to close your eyes.”

He closed his eyes immediately, and her heart leapt at the sight. “Alright, I do love surprises.”

With a wide smile and shaking hands, she carefully pulled out the heart-shaped box of chocolates and sat down on the couch next to him. He sat up as he felt her weight on the couch next to him, and instinctively, she scooched closer to him until their legs were completely pressed together.

She placed the chocolates on his lap gingerly. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

She watched as he opened his eyes, looking down at the box in his lap, then turned to look at her with such boyish joy in his eyes. Nothing could have prepared her for the energy in that room, filled with tension and joy and pure happiness and nervousness all at once. It was nearly overwhelming.

“You really want me to have these?” He asked, his voice not much above a whisper.

“Of course, all for you. You deserve them.” Y/n said simply, though she wanted to proclaim that he deserved so much more than a simple box of chocolates.

But he looked at her like she hung the flaming moon, like she was all he had ever wanted. Because, simply put, that’s exactly how he felt.

“Y/N,” he started, carefully placing the chocolates on the coffee table in front of him, never taking his eyes off of hers, “You are the most generous, kind, beautiful soul I have ever met,” Now that his hands were free, he reached for hers. Gently caressing the backs of her hands with his thumbs, he gazed into her eyes with all the adoration in his heart. “I’m honored you would gift these to me. Thank you so much.”

Y/N was so happy she could cry. And she nearly did. Reth made her feel so safe and appreciated, and she knew he reciprocated everything she felt by the way he looked at her now. She glanced at his lips and wondered what they would feel like pressed to her own, and now she understood Kenyatta perfectly.

He seemed to read her mind, moving one hand to her face, gliding his thumb over her cheekbone as he pressed his forehead to hers. With eyes closed to fully savor the moment, he whispered gently, “May I kiss you?”

Her heart was doing flips in her chest now as he moved ever closer, and she mewled out a meek ‘yes’, feeling the faint brush of his lips against her own due to their proximity.

He wasted no time once she had consented, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. His hand on her face held her in place, and his other hand moved to her back to pull her closer. Her own hands rested on his strong forearm, and one on his shoulder as she deepened the kiss. He was all over her, invading her senses, and all she could think was more, more, more. She wasn’t sure what ‘more’ entailed, but she would happily spend the rest of her life figuring it out. She needed him impossibly closer, and he seemed to be thinking the same thing by the way his hands gripped the fabric of her dress. His tongue gently opened her mouth, allowing himself access to her. The sensation was foreign but she found it wasn’t unpleasant. She allowed him to explore her mouth for a little while, and just enjoyed the feeling of him pressed against her.

Reth was ecstatic that Y/N returned his feelings, and was even happier that she was content to sit in his arms. He had dreamed of this moment ever since he first laid eyes on her, that first day she came into his world. He relished in the feeling of her so close, her warm body pressing ever closer, her hands wandering across his arms and back. She touched his neck at the base of his hair, and he simply melted into her touch. She was everything he could have ever wanted.

He got so excited that he scooped his hands under her legs, chuckling at her gasp of surprise as he lifted her into his lap. Warm hands settled on her hips as she gazed into his eyes with all the love in her heart. He just wanted her closer, so he pulled her to his chest for a deep hug. He pet her hair, gently carding his fingers through as she sighed into his shoulder. Nuzzling her nose into his neck, Y/N sighed contentedly. She could sit like this forever, legs on either side of his, as close as she could possibly be, and wondered what she would have to do to make this a daily occurrence.

“Reth?” She asked, after many minutes of just sitting in each other’s presence.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Will you be mine? Only mine?”

“Yes my love, I’m already yours.”

#reth palia #palia reth #reth x reader #burgers and lilies #reth one shot #reth romance #play palia #palia game #reth #my writing #palia #palia one shot #y/n #reth x y/n #reth/self insert #reth x self insert #self insert romance #self insert

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steviewashere · 16 days

Text

Look After You

Pairings: Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Father, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Teen and Up CWs: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Violence, Blood & Injury, Implied/Referenced Homophobia Tags: Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Whump, Platonic Stancy, Nancy Wheeler is a Sweetheart, Nancy Wheeler Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Injured Steve Harrington, Sad Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Minor Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, But Their Relationship is a Key Stone to the Whole Plot, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington's Dad is an Asshole, Use of Queer as a Slur (Steve Referring to Himself) Title from "Look After You" by The Fray

🫂——————🫂 The car crawls on the wet asphalt. It’s dark, cold, sprinkling now that the heaviest part of the downfall has subsided. And Nancy isn’t going to take any risks with driving tonight. Not after all she’s survived.

It’s hard to spot what’s ahead of her through the droplet covered windshield. She turns the wipers on—squeak…squeak…squeak. Turns up the heater another notch on the dial when her fingers begin to ache again from the cold. And lowers the volume on the radio—“Barracuda” by Heart begins to dwindle—the crackling through her speakers from a tape Jonathan gave her as a gift. “Fitted with the best tracks I could find that suited you, Nance.”

She has more tapes in the center console. One from Robin, a mash of Madonna and The Beatles that she suspects came from lingering Vecna anxiety. A short and sweet mix from Eddie—Dio becoming a new favorite band, surprisingly. And an old, tired tape from ’83, crafted specifically for her by Steve. She remembers the effort he put into it. How he nervously gave it to her, how his hands shook, his smile fond and lightly embarrassed. There were songs on it that he liked, noticeably Queen and Springsteen; but there was Bowie and Blondie, too—for her, genuinely just her. All in all, the center console is a good representation of love she’s had over the years—new friends and old. The only tape not in the car being one from Barb, dusty and lingering in a box of trinkets shoved far and deep into her bottom dresser drawer.

Barb is still honored among her things. Some of her clothes. There’s a pair of lenses she left, that Nancy has since fitted for her own reading glasses—ones that she wears when marking in loopy cursive in the same type of journal she always saw Barb writing in. It’s the principal of moving on, she thinks. Not quite leaving all of Barb behind, but honoring her in the small ways that matter—and in that, it’s forming new friendships while repairing ones formerly broken. To be loved; to be remembered; to be taken care of, even if it’s just music in her car.

Even if it’s pulling slow to the next red light and in the corner of her eye, on the left in the steadying rain, she spots a figure on the sidewalk. Hunched in, carrying a heavy sack on their back, hair floppy into their face—a battered face. And if they didn’t cross under a streetlamp, she probably wouldn’t have recognized them. But it’s the blue Adidas on their feet that she notes. With a crank, then two, and another that threatens to jam her window into the car door—

“Steve?!” She calls out. The figure stops. Startles frantically. Whips their head around, eyes darting, mouth frowning. And then they look at her. His eyes wild and scared and hazy. Her stomach drops low. “Hey! Where’s your car?!”

The rain pelts down. Heavy and heavier as she idles at the stoplight, now green. His hands are nervous in front of him, smushing palms together, fingers tangling with one another. Then, he just shrugs. But his face does something…complicated. It twitches like he’s thinking. It frowns like he knows she won’t like the answer. And so he settles for absence, like she’d ever think he’s actually stupid.

“Why don’t you get in mine, Steve?!” she shouts over the heavy rain, “I can take you where you need to go! You’re gonna get sick and we know how Robs is going to react to that!”

It’s the mention of Robin that makes him move. Slow and hesitant, hefting the straps of his backpack on his shoulders. Sluggish in a way that worries her—a reminder of concussions, of blood soaked shirt scraps, and the inevitable infection that had come in the aftermath. She thinks he looks—not exactly cowardly, but something so timid that it’s child-like. Small and shaky.

The passenger door opens with a soft click. And he climbs in, shoe making a gentle squish to the floor of the car, and the subtle squeak of his drenched clothes on the leather seat. His sack goes to the footwell, overflowing and tight against the glovebox, probably heavy on the tops of his feet. He shuts the door with his right hand, but she catches a glimpse of his left where it rests on his thighs. The contours of his knuckles are shadowed with blood, dried in the creases of his skin. There’s a jagged scratch to the edge of his palm that she wonders at, if it reaches down to the underside of his hand, where it ends, if it’s still bleeding. He scrunches his fingers minutely, but quickly straightens them again, as if it hurts to move them. And she’s sure it does. She’s very sure it does.

She looks back out the windshield when he settles into the seat. The light turns yellow, then red. Green light just missed, so she’ll stall. Fiddles with the knobs on her dashboard—cranks the heat high, turns the radio completely down. Shifts the air vents on her car so that they all point at him, rather than her. And soothes at the way he closes his eyes, soaking up the heat on his obviously cold skin—goosebump riddled and lips slightly blue. Wipers forced to their max capacity, fast and squeaking.

“So…where are you heading, Steve?” And she looks back, not head-on. Tilts her head, looks sideways and almost down her nose at him.

He shrugs, eyes still closed. Even though they’re hidden from her, she can tell he’s forlorn. Tight wrinkles between his brows. A frown still sitting stubborn. “I don’t know,” he breathes.

Nancy nods. Taps her fingers on the steering wheel. “Can I ask about…about the face?” she wonders quietly.

The way his jaw tightens, she thinks there won’t be an answer. His throat works, muscles strained, veins protruding, Adam’s apple tired. But then, his lower lip wobbles and his eyes peel open half-lidded, and he’s looking out the passenger window. Even through the rain on the glass, she can see the tears he must’ve been trying to recede. Fast and plenty, some tinted pink from the bit of blood still caked around his eye, the others crystal clear and showcasing the rapid flush of his ruddying cheeks. “Not yet,” he whispers, “can we just drive for a little bit?”

Instead of pushing, like she wants to do, she just looks at the road—light finally green—and goes under the speed limit. Empty streets, still slick asphalt, she’ll oblige. “Anywhere in mind or do you want to just go sightseeing?”

He snorts wet and snotty. “You still have that constellation book in your center console?”

“Hey,” she scolds, mock-offended, “I told you that in confidence!”

His head thunks against the side of the door, hair rustling as he looks to her. She feels his eyes on him, but won’t look over again just yet. “There’s no one else around,” he murmurs, “and besides, I was kidding. I don’t know where I wanna go.” Steve sighs heavily. “Don’t know if my face is very welcoming right now anyway.”

She clicks her tongue. “Yeah,” she reluctantly agrees, “think the…the blood and stuff would put people off.” Her hands tighten on the steering wheel. Hesitantly, she broaches the next subject, “Taking walks at night with what seems like a load of hiking gear. Did you take on a new exercise plan or something?”

“Nope,” he answers quietly—he’s been weirdly quiet the whole time—“just seeing where my feet would take me, I guess. Out of town or…wherever.”

“Out of town,” she repeats slowly. “And your car wasn’t good for that?”

He shrugs. “Dad told me I couldn’t have it, since he tossed me out. Not like I can do anything about that, it’s in his name.” Then, at that, he inhales sharply through his nose, eyes wide—wider than she’s ever seen them. Catching up all at once to what he said. “I didn’t—You didn’t hear—Forget that I”—

“Did he do that to you?” She asks, teeth gritted. Chest tight.

“My dad? My dad’s an asshole.” She remembers all the times he’d say that. Brushing over the shit he’d been thrown. Trying to convince her to not meet his parents.

He doesn’t answer now.

“Steve, if he did this, you can press charges. You can…We can tell Hop”—

“And get everyone else involved? No thanks.”

Reluctantly, Nancy finds a spot on the curb that’s completely empty, and pulls over to it. He begins to reach down into the footwell, scrambling for his bag, panicked in all his gestures. She stops him with a soft hand on his forearm. He freezes, but doesn’t look over.

“Steve,” she whispers, “what were you going to do tonight? Where were you going to go? If…if your dad is after you or something, we can stow you in my basement, I can—I’ll get Jonathan to remove the stick in his ass for a night so you can”—

“I was going to skip town, okay?” He forces himself to speak, mangled and garbled as it is. “See if I could find a passing car outside of the limits, hitch a ride, maybe end up somewhere else. That’s what I was going to do. I don’t wanna…nobody else needs to know about all of this. I don’t want anybody else to get involved. This is between my dad and I, alright?” Finally, he looks up from the footwell. Still hunched over. Hands still shaking and gripping to the backpack straps. Tears streaming down his face again.

She makes a decision, stubborn as he is, and turns on the overhead light.

In the sickly yellow glow of the car’s light, she can see all the damage done to him. There’s a cut on his right cheekbone most likely formed from a wedding ring. Dark, plum bruising around his left eye. Swollen face, blood caked around his nostrils—hopefully not broken. A cut on his lip. Another cut on his hairline. There’s bruising on his neck, in the shape of fingertips. And when she looks down his arm, past the curled edge of his t-shirt sleeve, there’s bruising there, too.

“I should shoot your dad in the fucking face,” she finally says. “Why’d he do this to you? If anything, you’ve been out of his hair for years now. He has no reason to go after you. No fucking reason at”—

“It’s because I’m a queer, Nance,” Steve spits. Not venomous, something humiliated and heated. “Okay? I’m a fucking queer. I’m dating—Eddie and I are dating. Wayne should’ve been the only one to know, but somehow my dad found out. Went snooping in my room or…or maybe one of my neighbors saw Eddie leaving my house looking a little more rumpled than he arrived. But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m a queer and my dad doesn’t like that.

“And if you’ll excuse me, I think I should get back on the road and get the fuck out of here before my dad can come cruising around, find me, and do me in worse than Vecna could’ve ever.” He rips his arm out from under Nancy’s palm. Struggles with hefting the backpack onto his lap. And reaches for the door handle.

Yet, he still stops himself when Nancy pulls him back in. Forces him back into his seat. Keeps sat and still.

He looks back to her, understandably upset.

She takes pause. Looks back and forth at his wet eyes—one half-shut, forced by the swelling of his face. Her hands are on his biceps, sat where those bruises are, and all she does is stroke her palms up and down. Soothing. “That’s okay, Steve,” she murmurs, “I don’t care that you’re queer. That you’re gay or—or something else. I care that you’re safe.”

“I’m not safe here in town,” he retorts, voice shaking.

Her hands move to his forearms. Where his skin is still cold. “You don’t even have a jacket on. You don’t…you don’t know who’s going to pick you up. What that person could be like. I can’t just let you step out of my car and walk back down the road.” In front of her, he begins to crumble all over again. Realizing, all too fast and all too much, that she’s unfortunately right. “Can I take you somewhere else? Maybe to Eddie’s? If you don’t want to explain all of this again to somebody like Hopper or my dad or even Robin, then at least talk it though with somebody who’d fully understand the severity.

“I can clean you up with my first aid kit. But I’m not letting you walk out of everybody’s lives. Even if I know you aren’t, you have no guarantee the next time you’d be able to reassure the people who care about you.” She squeezes his arms. Lightly, so gentle it could’ve been nothing. And when his tears come fast again, she holds his face between her palms. At least his face is warm, she thinks, and at least he isn’t fighting me.

Steve sniffles. Doesn’t and won’t make direct eye contact with Nancy. Forlorn, again, to the tip of his nose. “You won’t tell anybody else?” He asks, small, timidly.

“No,” she merely whispers, “it’s not my business. And I shouldn’t have forced it out of you. For that, I’m sorry. I just…I’ve seen you too close to death too many times. I’m not letting it get you because you think you’d be better off with strangers, with people who don’t care about you the way we do.” She strokes her thumb at a spot of crusted blood on his right cheek. Where it had burbled out of the cut. “If I hadn’t found you, would you have ever told anybody where you went? Would you have told Robin? Eddie?”

He sighs through his nose. Closes his eyes again. Swallows hard and shakes his head softly. “I don’t have enough cash for a payphone, so I guess I wouldn’t.”

“Right,” Nancy murmurs, “let me clean you up, okay? I’ll take you home, to Eddie’s. And maybe…one of these days, y’know, we can figure out a plan. A pact. Get all of us out of this shithole.”

“Shithole,” Steve echoes. Snorts. “Never heard you say that before.”

She grins, even though he can’t see it. “Blame Mike for that one. He’s uh…he’s creative, that’s all I’ll say.”

The clean up doesn’t take long. Some rubbing alcohol on fast food napkins. A tube of Neosporin. Band-aids. All done in relevant silence. With his head still in her hands, his throat working over and over as he can’t pinch his nose to prevent more tears. His hands slowly warmed in her grip as she wraps a bandage over the nasty cut on his palm. Where that particular injury came from, she doesn’t know, but knows better than to ask.

And in the drive over, they make the same small talk. About plans for college—for Emerson. Of Family Video, customers, minimum wage. She jokes that Eddie’s got her hair. And he just laughs, full from his belly and gravelly the way it always had been—even tells her that Eddie made a comment along the same lines.

When he disappears inside of the Munson’s trailer, she feels relieved, not satiated, but soothed. And when Eddie comes out, pajamas and all, wraps his lanky arms around her torso, pulls her in fast and hard, drops a kiss to her head of curls—she knows that Steve is in good hands.

“Wheeler, you’re a fucking hero,” Eddie remarks.

“I wasn’t just going to let him be miserable.”

“Seriously, Nancy, you’re my fucking hero. I don’t know where he’d be without you.”

Somewhere else, she thinks, somewhere else without us. Bruised and scared and small.

“Don’t think about it,” she says, “get him better though, please.”

“Will do, Nance. Get home safe?” Eddie breathes, arms still tucked around her body securely. He’s scared, she can tell, but half-relieved all the same.

“I always do.”

🫂——————🫂

#stranger things #platonic stancy #steddie #minor steddie #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #cw abuse #cw blood

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blouisparadise · 2 months

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Today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Louis and/or Harry have popular jobs such as firefighter, flight attendance, florist, and mechanic. Since we get requests for rec lists with these particular jobs often, we decided to compile them into one list. We're marked each fic according to which job it features. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog the post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) December | Not Rated | 1,924 words | 💐

Magic happens here, in December.

2) Pilot | Teen & Up | 5,279 words | ✈️

“We have fifteen minutes.” Harry glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “How fast do you think my tongue can make you come?” Still against the wall, Louis felt a shiver run from the back of his neck down his spine. In three years walking on moving planes, he’d never had such zero control over his legs. At least not until now.

3) Your Apathy’s Like A Wound In Salt | Explicit | 5,312 words | 🛠️

“What a fucking ass!” Louis shifts his body so he’s completely facing away from the scene. “I asked him last night to fix my car and he said he would accept a payment in the form of me sucking his dick. I guess he’s really desperate, I can’t believe him.” Louis rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink in one go. Niall shakes his head and shrugs, “I told you to ask any other mechanic in town but you didn’t listen to me.” “Well, I didn’t think he would fucking say that now did I, Niall?” “Louis,” Paige rests a manicured hand on his shoulder, “So, you’re saying you still wouldn’t hit it?” “My ex?” She nods. “Yeah, I’d still hit that. Except this time it would be with a car or a baseball bat.” Suddenly, Niall spits out his beer all over the table as Paige bursts out laughing. “Fucking ruthless, you are.” Niall runs a hand through his styled hair.

4) Oil and Lube | Explicit | 5,552 words | 🛠️

The one where Harry's a car mechanic and Louis' engine can't seem to stop revving around him.

5) A Place To Call Home | Mature | 8,113 words | 💐

The thing is, he’s pretty sure he’s found home in a person in his life, someone who’s been essential in everything he’s done since he was seven years old. Through every broken bone, through every breakup, through every failure; through every triumph, personal and professional, and every goal he has scored in his time in Man U, there’s been someone there for it all. That’s his best mate. Harry. A twenty-two year old with the kindest heart known to man, a slow drawl that is entirely too endearing, with the dreams to open up his own flower shop. A quiet and earnest boy with those he doesn’t know, and open and honest and absolutely lovely with those he loves. It all hits him, really, the night of their final game of the Premier League. Again, timing is not his forté. They’re gearing up, ready to hit the field for the second half against Liverpool that determines their ranking in the League, when his brain decides to come online (after seventeen years, apparently), and conveniently supply him with the revelation that oh yeah, you’re kind of in love with your best friend.

6) If This Room Was Burning | Explicit | 8,629 words | 🔥

Where Louis’ cat gets stuck on the roof and Harry is the firefighter who ends up saving her.

7) Decorated Emergency | Not Rated | 10,359 words | 🔥

So what if they kissed once. It was the end of a shift that had seemed to drag on for twelve days instead of twelve hours. Their doctor was slow and felt the need to transfer every single patient, putting more work on every member of staff. Harry was stressed. Louis was the one who crowded him up against the door in the break room. It was Louis' fault, he was always pulling shit.

8) Taking The Long Way Home | Mature | 12,499 words | 🛠️

Coming home from the beach, Louis' car breaks down and he has to call mechanic Harry.

9) Bloom | Explicit | 24,887 words | 💐

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry tucks the flower into the top pocket of Louis’ jacket, patting over his heart just once. “What is it?” Louis asks, eyeing the sunny little yellow flower, a bit like a buttercup, “It’s lovely.” Harry pushes a piece of hair behind his ear and smiles, “It’s a primrose. I got them in this morning, reminded me of you.”

10) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27,083 words | 🛠️

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

11) A Hungry Heart | Explicit | 27,601 words | 💐

Harry Styles, florist and Great British Bake Off contestant, loves many things. He loves his flower shop, he loves baking, and there’s also that little crush he has on pop star Louis Tomlinson. But when Louis arrives on set as the surprise guest judge, Harry’s worlds collide. Throw in a cup of cuteness, a teaspoon of teasing, and a pinch of pining, and there’s all the ingredients for an epic love story, or absolute chaos.

12) Tangled Up And Blue | Explicit | 30,159 words | 🛠️

Kai just shakes his head, making his way down the small batch of stairs with a hop in his step. “Have fun on your weird adult date.” Harry sighs. “It’s not a date.” “Dad, you already have him in your bed most nights,” Kai sings, walking backwards towards Louis’ car with an insufferable smirk on his face. “It’s not looking too good for you,” he shrugs, hands curled around the straps of his backpack.

13) You Wish I Was Yours And I Hope That You’re Mine | Not Rated | 31,259 words | 💐

“What did you wish for?” Harry blushes, “If I tell you it won’t come true…” Louis sits straight again, a cute little determined look forming on his face, “I wished that a certain curly ‘aired boy would take me on more dates because I ‘ad such a good time on this one. And that’s going to come true, isn’t it?” “Of course,” Harry nearly splutters. “Yeah, yeah definitely.” “See?” Louis grins smugly. “Now I told you mine and it’s still going to come true, so will you tell me yours?” Their wishes were different though, because whereas Louis’ wish was cute and endearing, Harry found his own wish rather embarrassing. But he can’t lie to Louis, nor can he say no to Louis, so he sucks in a shaky breath of air before he speaks softly, “I wished that I was brave enough to kiss you…”

14) Stay Until Tomorrow | Explicit | 36,766 words | 🛠️

There’s a dull ache seeping through Louis’ body as he wakes up; a mild headache from last night’s alcohol intake, a cramp in his right arm from sleeping on it weird and a familiar soreness between his arse cheeks that Louis fully blames on his lousy one night stand.

15) One Heart Broke, Four Hands Bloody | Explicit | 47,429 words | 💐

Louis’ life is really fucking dull until one day he happens upon the scene of a crime, as said crime is happening. A murderer with big hands and a charming smile somehow manages to change his life for the better.

16) Once Burnt, Twice Shy | Explicit | 52,644 words | 🔥

Louis and Harry are polar opposites in every way. Where Louis is a bestselling author from the city, Harry is a small-town firefighter who’s never left his home. Where Louis is spontaneous and spirited, Harry is introverted and calm, never straying from routine. When an ill-fated accident and an exceptionally intelligent tabby bring them together, they are forced to confront their pasts and forge a better beginning for themselves. Will sparks fly, or will it all go up in flames?

17) No Going Back | Explicit | 56,102 words | 🛠️

Sales reps Harry and Louis are bored with their jobs and their lives. After meeting at a conference in Cardiff they hook up, have a few too many drinks, and jokingly apply to become remote lighthouse keepers. Six months, just the two of them, looking after the southernmost lighthouse off the bottom of Australia. It’s not like their applications will be accepted. Right? This is the story of how one choice - a left instead of a right, a go instead of a stop, a yes instead of a no - can change the future forever and that sometimes, taking that leap of faith, is worth the risk.

18) Between The Sand and Stars | Explicit | 63,128 words | ✈️

When an earthquake strands flight attendant Louis Tomlinson on a tropical island, he’s got paradise at his fingertips - miles of sunny beaches, immersion in vibrant culture, and a beautiful seaside mansion to enjoy. Unfortunately, it belongs to the egotistical musician Harry Styles, whose incorrigible management can do little to hinder his playboy complex. Despite Louis and Harry’s abhorrent first impression, contrasting backgrounds, and tendency to bicker every time they speak, who says opposites can’t attract? Them, of course, because they hate each other … right?

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #blp fic recs #blp #mechanic louis #mechanic harry #florist louis #florist harry #flight attendant louis #flight attendant harry #firefighter louis #firefighter harry

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