#not to be dramatic but i felt like my soul was being sucked out of my body tbh. 0/10 saddest car ride ever

[bilbao-song]

i have so many Thoughts following yesterday’s events and i haven’t even gone through my photos properly yet bc tbh i’m still in utter disbelief that the entire thing DIDN’T get ruined. like that’s how close it came

[lighteyed]

driving miss mayfield

steve harrington x fem mayfield!reader

[5.8k] steve gives you driving lessons, max gives you heat, you give yourself no time to daydream.

disclaimer- no mention of blood relation to max, no physical descriptors of reader, they are sisters in any way you want them to be.

     “What do you mean you don’t know how to drive?” The disbelief in his words is almost as emphatic as the annoyance in yours, but he seems to be more disbelieving than you are annoyed at him, who could ever really be annoyed at him, so you let Steve gape at you and blink rapidly instead of telling him to mind his business.

   You slurp down the rest of your soda from the general store in his passenger seat, shrugging, fighting to push down that urge to snap. Mayfield girls, you, Max, your mother when she wasn’t bogged down by a soul-sucking man-leech draining her lifeforce from her right before your eyes, had a less than lovely temper most of the time, and you tried very  hard to keep it contained, especially around people who didn’t deserve it. It just felt like a ridiculous question. “I mean, why do you think I’m stuck drivin’ with Billy half the time? You think I get in that car willingly? You think Max gets in that car willingly?”  You shake your head. “No way. If I had a license I would’ve been, like, halfway back to California the second you people started dragging me and Max into your science fiction monster crap.”

    “As if she woulda let you,” Steve scoffs with a similar head shake, a lock of his hair falling nicely into place in the middle of his forehead. He swipes at it quickly. He has this ridiculous urge to never be anything less than perfect in front of you, you, who is perfect without effort, leading him to put even more effort into holding up this front for himself. “Besides, you’d miss this pretty face, right?” He points to himself, smiles, and waits for you to laugh. You do. It makes his heart constrict.

   “Think you’d miss my pretty face, actually,” you snort, shoving your now empty shake in the cupholder.

    “Yeah, I would,” he teases, just a little, just enough to make further attempts at breaking all that ice you’ve got protecting you, and he swears, he sees it crack the slightest amount, even though you don’t answer. You smile and stare down at your hands in your lap, twisting a mood ring around your finger and making sure you don’t look at him. He’ll take what he can get. “Well, anyhow,” he says, dramatically blowing air out of his mouth, the subject change swift and, in his opinion, a flawless execution, “I can’t in good conscience let you keep driving with him.”

    “You already drive me and Max and all her friends everywhere, you don’t have to do anything else.” You don’t like being indebted to anyone. Even if it’s Steve, who insists on picking you up for school in the mornings and dropping you off in the afternoons and, if he’s free, taking you anywhere else you need to go. And he usually is free, because you, and the group of middle schoolers (almost high schoolers, to be fair) he’s adopted since he protected them from Billy and the Demodogs and the whole Mind Flayer debacle (you’re still fuzzy on the details, honestly) a few months ago,  are his only friends nowadays, so it’s not like his schedule is packed and there’s no room to fit you in there. There’s more than enough room. If there wasn’t, he’d make it so. You both knew that.

    “I love driving you,” he insists. “But the thing is, my dad’s cutting me off.”

    “He’s what?”

    “Like, you know, he’s gonna stop paying for my shit. I’m not goin’ to college and he thinks I’m a useless sack of nothing-“

   “You are not a useless sack of nothing-“

   “You tell that to him-“

   “Take me there right now and I will-“

    “Alright, alright, easy.” As much as he’d love to see you go toe to toe with his dad, and you’d be able to, he’s sure, he doesn’t want to talk about it any further than the basic facts of the situation. He’s not going to college therefore his dad has no reason to pay for anything he does anymore. His car insurance is his responsibility now, anything else he needs is up to him to to get, food, clothes, gas, if he has to go to the hospital he’s sure his dad would shove the medical bills onto him, too. He was like that, unfortunately for Steve. But it was one thing he could relate to you on. You had him slightly beat, though. You had two dads to complain about, both terrible in their own ways. Sam Mayfield: emotionally distant, didn’t bother to call, didn’t ask you to visit, too busy when you lived with him to spend any time with you anyway. And then, of course, there was Neil Hargrove: controlling, abusive, cold Neil Hargrove. How he’d charmed your mother into marrying him was a mystery to you and to Max, but you supposed, for as much as you loved her on principle because she was your mother and you pitied her and looked up to her all the same, she was easily charmed by men. It killed you a little more every time it happened, but this was the first time she’d actually brought him into your family, integrating them together in a way she thought would be seamless, but you and Max despised your stepbrother and he despised you both right back. “Point is, I’m gonna have to get a job, probably at that new mall they’re opening up-“

   “Oh the horror-“ you feign a hand over your forehead and slump back in your seat- “Rich pretty boy Steve Harrington doing labor, at the fancy new mall, with those soft delicate hands of yours, whatever will you do-“

   “Shut it,”  he warns, but there’s a grin on his face anyway. “You just admitted I’m pretty, by the way.” He continues before you can dispute his claims. “I’m not gonna be around as much. So you need your license. Unless you wanna be stuck with Billy yelling in your ear all day long.” He pauses, thinking. “Which might make me kill him. So, actually, unless you want me to murder him in cold blood-”

   “Please? I’m begging at this point,” you joke back.

   “Let me get a word in would you?” He laughs and it sounds like music to you. You keep it to yourself. “I want you to be okay on your own. I don’t want him, y’know, hurting you guys, okay? So you need your license.” His words and his eyes go lovely and soft, all rounded ages, nothing jagged about them, just pure, undulated care and affection.

    It makes you soften, too. You spend a lot of time looking after Max, it hits you hard when someone takes the time to look after you, too. “I don’t know, Steve, I wouldn’t be getting a car right after or anything, my job doesn’t pay enough, and we can just take the bus or something. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

   ‘I’m teaching you to drive, and you can take my car wherever you need to go. I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go on over to wherever I’m working, drop me off, and then you go wherever you need to go and come back in time to pick me up.” He says it so easily, as if it’s the most obvious answer to your problems in the world. He doesn’t even fathom how much it means to you.

   “You’d let me drive this?” You brace both your hands on the dashboard, your turn to stare at him in incredulity. His car is nice. It’s beautiful, really, and you don’t know much about cars. It’s classic and shiny and new. And expensive. Expensive being the operative word. Billy’s car is nice, too, and it’s about the only thing he takes care of other than his physique, which he thinks about obsessively, but you don’t think it’s anywhere as nice as Steve’s. Not in your opinion, anyway. The fact that Steve is nicer in personality (and looks, quite frankly) might make you biased, though. “I can’t afford to replace anything if I scratch it or crash it or if it explodes.”

   “You won’t scratch, crash, or explode it, you’re gonna be learning from the best.”

   “And who would that be?”

   “Me, obviously. Welcome to your first driving lesson, I’ll be your instructor, Mr. Harrington, thank you for joining us Miss Mayfield.” He tips an imaginary hat toward you. You’re not sure what driving instructors wear hats but you let him have his fantasy anyway.

   “Right now?” You can barely process what’s happening before he’s popping open his door, lanky legs sliding right out. He raps the hood of the car with his knuckles, ducking his head inside to look at you.

   “Yes, right now, Mayfield, no time like the present.” He comes around to the side you’re on and opens door for you, ushering you out. He holds your hand to help you out of the car, entirely unnecessary but a smooth move nonetheless, and your hands fit together in a way that makes him want to keep them clasped like that forever. He ushers you into the driver’s seat with a quickness that almost gives you whiplash.

    Your hands prop up on the wheel, uneasy. Your palms start to sweat. “I don’t like this,” you tell him. You take your hands off and wipe them on your jeans. They immediately dampen again. You’re afraid of leaving sweat prints all over his wheel and leaving a car-shaped hole in the side of the now abandoned Benny’s Burgers, the parking lot almost empty, save for the car that you are now responsible for. It’s eight o’clock on a school and work night, so naturally no one else was around and Hawkins may as well have been asleep.

   “You haven’t even attempted to drive yet.”

   “My hands keep slipping off the wheel,” you grasp for his hand and press yours against it, raising your eyebrows. “Do you feel the sweat?”

   “Jesus, yeah.” He squeezes your hand with encouragement anyway. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m a much nicer driving teacher than anyone you could hire at the school. You’re in good hands. Great hands. The best ones. Perfect, amazing hands.”

    Your eyes flick down to Steve’s hands. You have to agree. “I don’t even have a permit. You could get in trouble.”

    “By who? Chief Hopper? Officer Callahan?” He nearly cackles at the notion. “You’ll be fine, don’t sweat it.”

    “Bad choice of words.”

    “Enough stalling, let’s get to the lesson.” He claps his hands together. His face retains a serious, focused quality to it. It’s very handsome (he’s always handsome and it kills you a little because you don’t have time to daydream). “Alright, hands here, and here,” he taps the wheel to show you the correct position. He thinks he might die if you connect your hands again. “That’s called the 10 and 2 position.”

    “Why’s it called that?”

    “I don’t know, it just is, doesn’t matter, that’s where they go so you have the best control for making turns and steering.” You do as he says. “Okay, so now, you have to relax.”

    “Girls love hearing that, Steve,” you grind your teeth.

    But your rigidity and discomfort is obvious, especially to you, and you know it can’t be natural to drive all scrunched up and tense like this. “You’ll be fine. You can’t be all stiff if you ever want to get comfortable doing this.”

    “But I’m not comfortable.”

    “Hence why we’re doing this, yeah?’

   “I thought we were doing this so me and Billy don’t strangle each other.”

    “That too. Can’t have my only friend dead. Then I’ll be stuck with all the kids by myself.”

   “Can’t leave Max alone, either,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You think about her most of all. While you spend all this time with Steve, you worry over her all the time. You constantly check in to make sure she doesn’t feel left out. You fret about her being left alone with Billy. She occupies almost all of your thoughts.

   “Never,” he agrees, even if you weren’t talking to him. You give him a thankful smile. His heart almost stops but he clears his throat to snap himself out of it. “Okay, now, let’s turn the key, turn the car back on.”

  “Turning the key,” you nod, licking your lips. You turn the key in the ignition until the engine rumbles to life. The car vibrates in response. You hate it.

   “Clutch pedal down with your left foot,” he says, pointing. You do as he says. “Move this,” he pats the gear stick, “into first gear, right here, left then up.” He watches you carefully, nodding back. “Good, okay, press down on the acceleration with your right foot now, gently,” he adds. He can tell by the furrow in your brow that you hate it. “You’re doing good,” he praises.

  “Yeah, yeah, continue.”

  “Now you gotta lift the clutch until you feel it vibrating, okay, then release the handbrake, keep slowly moving off the clutch until you’re moving with just the acceleration, okay?” He finds the deeply serious expression you’re wearing kind of endearing. “If it stalls we’re gonna start again, but don’t worry about it.”

But you don’t stall. The car moves as it should, with you controlling it, in the empty parking lot by the neighborhood park. “Great, great, almost perfect” he tells you, “we can probably go faster if you wanna try that-“

  “No, we cannot,” you say tightly, your shoulders hunched.

  The laugh he lets out makes your spine tingle. “You have to relax your face, I promise you’ll drive better if you’re not all… scrunched up,” he motions to your shoulder area.

  You try. You roll them back as you keep focusing on the road, trying not to furrow your brows so much. You’ll get a permanent forehead wrinkle at this rate.

   “See, there we go,” Steve reassures. Your let out a little huff, but your face goes placid, still. “Beautiful.” He’s not sure if he means to say it. If he should. He says it anyway.

  You look sideways at him as you drive through the parking lot. You’re driving slow. Slower than slow. You’re practically inching along. “You can’t possibly be flirting with me right now.” It’s not that you don’t like it. You do. It hurts how much you do. If he wasn’t freshly single and you didn’t feel so obligated to focus most of your time on taking care of Max, you’d flirt back. You weren’t new to it or anything. You knew your way around a guy. Even a gorgeous one like Steve. But he was only a few months over Nancy and you saw the grimaces he did when she and Jonathan crossed his path. You weren’t sure if he was over her. Or if Max was comfortable and secure enough here to be a little more independent.

  “I am not,” he scoffs. The blush creeping up his neck onto his cheeks betrays him. You shift your eyes to look at him again but he points, “eyes on the road, by the way.”

  “You were flirting, you just can’t help yourself, can you? King Steve, right?” You snicker, recalling the nickname from when you’d first met him, the one that had been rescinded just as fast. It’s easy to hide the fact that you liked the way he said beautiful, like a caress, like a kiss, behind your banter and snark. Maybe it’s one thing you and Billy could have in common. Everything’s easier when you hide it behind an attitude.

  “I wouldn’t say that stating a fact is… flirting,” he shrugs, flippant. At least, he hopes it appears flippant. You don’t give yourself much time to ponder this.

  “It is when you say it in that voice,” you retort.

  “Huh? What voice?” He balks at that. He does not put on a voice.

  “Like, low and sultry,” you flick some hair away from your eyes. It had been the way he said it, after all.  

     “You think my voice is low and sultry?” His ears practically perk up like a puppy’s. You don’t answer. It’s actually all the answer he needs. “I think you’re the one flirting with me now, Mayfield, not the other way around.”

  You scoff. You are scoffing and he is laughing away. “In your dreams, Harrington.”

  “Every night.” The joke registers with that one but it still makes your stomach clench. Every butterfly in the western hemisphere makes its way into your gut and builds a home there, an uncontrollable influx of new neighbors, fluttering madly, demanding to be seen and known and understood. You understood them, you just didn’t want to. “See, now that, that was flirting,” he says, satisfied at your quiet. “And you sound like your stepbrother when you say my last name like that, by the way. Excellent Billy impression.”

   You’re doing slow, lazy laps around the parking lot at this point, your nerves still present but for entirely different reasons now. “I do not sound like Billy.” You grimace. “And you probably shouldn’t be flirting with anyone when you just got out of a relationship, like, not even four months ago. I don’t think you’re ready to be flirting again.” You, again, are saying it more to yourself than to him. A subtle reminder of the predicament you’re in.  

  “Hence why I’m not flirting,” he informs you.

  “Uh huh,” you say, unconvinced.

 “But if I was-“

“Which you’re not-“

“Which I am not,” he agrees, “how would you feel? Just for, y’know, future reference.” He juts his lip out, wondering.

  “Let’s circle back to that when you’re not still reeling from the Nancy incident.”  

  “Well,” he shifts around in his seat. He wouldn’t say he’s still reeling. Still hurt, sure. But hurt sticks around longer than heartbreak does. You can be hurt by something someone did and not still be heartbroken over them. He wouldn’t say he’s still heart broken. Looking at you, his heart feels very much intact. Nothing broken here, no, definitely not. “That’s why it’s for a hypothetical future reference.”

  “Right, of course,” you slow the car to a stop. “Then I wouldn’t be opposed. Hypothetically.”

  “You wouldn’t?”  

  “I wouldn’t.” But, you remember, suddenly, that it’s not just you that you look out for. “Once Max is all settled, of course.”

   “Settled?”

   “Like, y’know, feeling better about being here.”

    “She’s got a massive group of friends she sees all the time.”

   “I know, but-“

   “You worry about her, I get it,” he places a hand on your knee, very light, not asking for anything. “Who worries about you? You should- you should be happy, too, is that crazy to say?”

   You place your hand over his.  “I’m happy. I’m happy, I promise. I don’t need you to worry about me, I’m okay.”

   “You should do more things for yourself.”

   “Like getting my license,” you gesture to the car.

   “Like getting your license, yeah.” Like going on a date with me. Like letting me show you how serious I am about you.

   “I’m okay how I am.”

   “I’m making it my job to look out for you, y’know.”

   You smile again. Very soft, almost embarrassed. You hated the attention being on you but you had to get used to it, being around him. “Yeah, Steve, I know.”

   He’s diligent in his effort to give you driving lessons. He takes you driving almost every day after school, Max in the backseat if she’s not with her friends, both of them encouraging and kind even when you hit the curb more often than not. You were a good driver, for all intents and purposes, even though your palms still sweat every time you got behind the wheel. It was a gradual comfort process. They were less sweaty than the first time, and that had to count for something. You even get comfortable enough to drive through Main Street, which nearly sends you into a panic and leads to a shouting match between the two of you while you furiously honk your horn at the other people of Hawkins on the road, Steve slumped in his seat to avoid eye contact with everyone, but after that, you’re a pro.

    A few weeks of this pass when he says to you, out of the blue as you drive aimlessly, “So, I set up your road test for you.”

   You’re still not used to this whole looking out for you thing he’s got going on. You almost stop the car short. “Did you really?”

    “I think you’re ready. You’re great, you’ll pass easily.”

    “You think?” You’re typically confident, strong-willed, but sometimes he sees those flickers of insecurity crop up and he attempts to smother that right then and there.

   “For sure,” he nods. “They’ll be begging you to be on the road.”

   “You flatter me.”

   “You deserve it.” His eyes, his smile, trained on you, always, is devastating. Maybe you do. Maybe you do.

    At your dinner table that night, you, Max, your mom, Neil, and Billy, Max does what she should never do in front of Neil or Billy, and that’s open her mouth.

   Billy had been going on about how he was sick of being the chauffeur, even though he really wasn’t anymore, and that if he was going to get a job this summer before college like Neil wanted you two would have to learn to get around on your own, because he can’t be responsible for two people if he also had to be responsible for a job.

   “She’s getting her driver’s license tomorrow,” she jerks her head toward you, a proud, beautiful smile on her face, and you want to drag her by the hair into your shared bedroom to ask why in the world she’d ever tell that to everyone and also give her the biggest hug for the evident pride she takes in the fact that you’re independent and doing things on your own and she looks up to you so, so much. You bite your lip as Neil’s fork scrapes noisily across his plate. “And Steve’s been driving us around anyway, so I don’t know what you’re going on about-“

   You interrupt her with a hard, socked foot coming down on her own. Your eyes go wide and your head tilts in her direction,  a please oh please stop talking expression.

    “Who has been driving you, exactly?” Neil asks, eyebrows raised.

   “My friend from school, it’s no big deal,” you answer, staring down at your plate and then back up at him. His cold gaze is fixated on you.

   “What happened to the agreement we had?” Neil turned his sneer to Billy, rendered speechless by Max’s unexpectedly bold statement. Billy then glares at you, and you really don’t want an argument, so you cut in.

  “It’s only sometimes, like once a week, and he doesn’t drive us to school, he drives us home. Rarely. Rare occasions. I promise.” A lie, flowing easily from your lips, and because Neil thinks you’re a smart, good girl, and his son is always up to no good and lying, he relaxes, and so does Billy, though you’ll get no thanks from him, not now, not ever.

  “Well, who’s been teaching you to drive where you feel ready to take your test?” Neil stretches across the table to get another helping of the meal your mother prepared from the middle of the table.

   “Steve, when we’re both free.” Every day.

   And because Billy can’t let you have anything, because he needs to instantly make you regret ever doing anything nice for him, he says, “I’m not a big fan of this Steve guy.”

   “Hm, and why’s that?” Neil continues eating.

   “It’s a petty high school rivalry,” you interrupt, narrowing your eyes at him.

   “He’s got a reputation with girls, you know. I wouldn’t want to see something bad happen to you.” Billy’s stupid grin eats shit. The feigned care makes your skin crawl.

   “What sort of reputation is that? You shouldn’t be hanging out with that sort of person,” Neil frowns. Again, with that feigned care. It’s not about genuine worry for you. It’s about control. Dominance. You won’t fall for it.

  “It’s all rumors. He had a serious girlfriend for a year. And we’re not together, anyway. He’s my friend.”

   “Guys all want the same thing,” Billy says back.

  “How would you know?” You push, nearly slamming your hands on the table.

   “I’m friends with the basketball team, there’s locker room talk, you get the picture.” He continues smiling in that mocking way of his that makes you want to jump across the dining room and put your fork through his eye.

   “You don’t actually know anything, though, do you, considering you’re not friends with him?”

   “I think I know enough to know that this isn’t the type of person my sister should be associating with-“

   That gets you going most of all, which is giving him exactly what he wants, and you can’t help it. “We are not siblings-“ your chair drags across the floor with a loud screech as you remove yourself from the table, just as Neil is telling you both to settle down.

  “C’mon, honey, sit back down, you can hang out with whoever you want, I’m sure this boy is very nice,” Susan coaxes you gently but you don’t even look at her, too caught up with the fact that it’s all her fault you’re here in this place with these people, these strangers, that you hate so deeply it makes your bones ache.

  “’M done eating, going to my room,” and you don’t care how annoyed it makes Neil that you’ve gotten up before he’s finished eating, which has become practice in this house now, you can’t even celebrate the fact that you’re achieving a milestone, getting your license, God damn it, without it turning into the Billy Hargrove one man show. He makes everything, everything, hurt.

   Max comes in a little while later, her footsteps light and hesitant on the floor. She crawls into your bed even though hers is across the room and she hasn’t slept beside you since your first night here.

   “Are you mad at me?” She asks. Her eyes are big and blue, worried.

   “’Course not.” You smooth her hair back. You’re not mad at her, truly. It’s not her fault Billy ruins everything. “I know you were just trying to get back at him for his complaining. S’not your fault, lovie.”

   “I should’ve known it would turn into that,” she frowns, uneasy. “It always turns into that.”

   “You don’t have to know anything. You should be allowed to say whatever you want to our parents, that’s what they’re there for. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” You boop her nose with the tip of your finger. You’ve been sulking in your room because of him, not her.

  “Can I ask you something?” You’re face to face with each other, both your heads lying on your pile of pillows, hair fanned out behind you. Her expression is earnest and endearing.

  “Always.”

 “I thought you and Steve were dating already.”

 You hesitate. “That’s not a question.”

  “Okay,” she rolls her eyes. There’s no malice behind it. “Why aren’t you dating?”

  You crinkle your nose, dismissive. “Because, I’m- I’m, like, busy, with stuff, and he’s not over Mike’s sister and I just, I don’t wanna get mixed up with some silly boy.”

   She admires your dismissive attitude toward boys, and it might be why she breaks up with Lucas every other week in exasperation with his boyish faults. She just thinks it’s crazy that you have this attitude when a guy like Steve is the one following you around with shiny looks and dreamy smiles. She’s sure that you’d never deny Steve, who, when she observed you both from the backseat, did everything in his power to make you feel comfortable, safe, secure, was kind to her while also maintaining a brotherly banter, something she thought she was getting when Billy had been introduced to her, was funny, and generous. He was always letting you drive his car and buying you both food and making sure you had a ride somewhere if you needed it. And she drove her and her friends around everywhere even if you weren’t there, too. Steve seemed perfect.

   He was easy on the eyes, too, but it brought a hot flush to Max’s cheeks to admit that, so she never would. 

   “He’s not a silly boy, he’s Steve.”

   “A boy is just a boy no matter who he is, you know that.”

   “Yeah, but,” she huffs, indignant, “he really likes you. I bet he’d go out with you if you asked.”

   “I’m not asking him out, and he doesn’t like me like that. He’s a good friend. And I told you, I’m too busy for him.”

   “Busy with what?” She cries, exasperated. “Busy driving with Steve, busy doing homework with Steve, busy getting dinner with Steve, busy-“

   She’s running out of fingers to write her list on. You grab her hand to stop the count. “I get your point.”

   “You can’t be too busy for someone if you already spend so much time with them, is all I’m saying.” She has a point. You scratch your arm absentmindedly. “What’s the real reason?”

   “What real reason? You’re saying that’s not the real reason?”

  “Definitely not the real reason.”

   “Says who?”

   “Says your best friend.”

   You sigh at her, a loving sound. “Oh, yeah, her.” You run a hand through her hair again. The softness of it soothes you. “I don’t wanna leave you alone.”

    She pokes your cheek. “I’m not alone. I have my friends.”

   “Didn’t you hear that we’re best friends? I can’t leave you in the dust.” It’s more playful than you really feel. You don’t want to burden her by unburdening yourself, relaying all your fears about what would happen if you spent more time with Steve, things like her resenting you, something awful happening between her and Billy, her getting hurt, injured, killed, your brain delved into all sorts of dark, terrible places, and these spiraling thoughts led to one conclusion: you would never, ever, let your focus waver from her. “I take care of you, okay? I don’t have the time to think about anything else. Besides, he might not even be over Nance, remember?”

   “He is. He is over her. I promise,” she insists, placing her hands on your arms. “He looks at you like he’s in love, I’ve seen it!”

   “You don’t know what you’re seeing, babe-“

  “I do.” She shoves herself off your bed, your hand, where it was twined in her hair, falling back onto the covers. You sit up, confused, as she stomps off to her own bed.

  “Are you mad at me right now?” You ask.

   “I’d be happy if you were happy.”

    “Max, stop, I am happy-“

   “Not happy enough. He’s nice. You should just go out with him. Stupid to worry about me all the time.” She flicks off her lamp light and turns away from you toward her wall. You sigh. You think. Your stomach twists itself in a knot you don’t want to think about. Eventually, when her stubbornness about it overrides yours, you turn back toward your own wall and turn out your own light. Your eyes strain from trying not to cry, so eventually, you cave in to that, too.

   Your hands shake at your road test the next day. For a multitude of reasons. You look at Steve differently, with your head tilted toward him like the head of a flower tilts toward the sun, waiting and wanting. You’re running over all the ways it could go wrong. You resign yourself to never doing a thing about it.

    He notices your quiet, so unlike yourself, and attributes it to your nerves about the test. He rubs your shoulders, an attempt to hype you up. “You got this, okay? You’re gonna kill it. You’re gonna be the second best driver in Hawkins.”

   “Lemme guess, you’re the first?” It’s the first smile you’ve cracked all day and he takes it as the victory it is.

   “Well it’s certainly not Billy,” he rolls his eyes. “Seriously, how you feelin’?” He spins you around and the gaze he bores into you is too intense to bear. You look away fervently.

   “Fine, ‘m fine, nervous, but fine, should be good, my driving instructor was excellent.” He beams with pride at that, a blinding flash.

   “World renowned, I heard,” he brags.

   “Let’s see if I pass first.”

   “You will,” he says. Confident, assured. It makes you feel assured in turn.  

   And you do. You pass. By a hair, truth be told, but you pass. It thrills you, clutching the paper declaring your triumph in your fist, walking outside to greet Steve who leans against the hood of his car in his devastating way of his, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he taps his foot in wait. When he sees you come out, he brightens, straightening himself out.

   “What’s the verdict?” He asks.

   You wave the paper around. “I passed!” You can’t fake it for a second, your joy at this little bit of freedom absolutely inescapable. He lets out a loud, thrilled whoop for you, and his joy brings you even more of it. He picks you up off the ground and spins you in a circle, and when you’re back on the sidewalk, steady, he envelopes you in a deep, encompassing hug.

  When he hugs, his whole body goes into it, if that makes any sense. He throws his all into it. There’s no hesitancy, no timidity, he’s not ashamed of it in the slightest. He hugs you, hard. He’s that proud. And he likes holding you. You pull away first and he’s not surprised.

  “Proud of you,” he squeezes you arm again.

   “Couldn’t have done it without, Steve, really. You- you’re the best, y’know that?”

   He decides to push his luck. “Good enough to go on a date with?” He can see already that you’ll say no. That you want to say yes but you’re going to say no. He doesn’t care. He’ll wait until you’re sick of him.

  “You don’t wanna go out with me,” you squeeze his arm back.

  “You’re real silly, you know that?” His voice is warm and awfully fond.

  You can’t bring yourself to let him all the way in just yet. You walk with him back to the car and agree with him. Yes, you’re real silly, indeed.

[jahayla-parker]

Mistaken Emotions : Conrad Fisher x Reader

Description: 4.5 k wc, y/n and Conrad have been best friends for years, so she’s knows there has to be more to his sudden change in behavior. Friends to lovers, angst to fluff, hurt comfort.

Warnings: mentions of/references to cancer & illness, panic attacks, anxiety, mentions of smoking and weed/pot/marajuana, anger/sadness/other emotions, etc.

Y/n sighed to herself as she walked down the beach. Her shoulders lifted briefly during the inhalation, only to dramatically plummet as the deep sigh left her lips. Belly was right, Conrad was smoking. Y/n had hoped their mutual friend was wrong. But, the puff of smoke being expelled from Conrad’s mouth -visible despite the dark sky that greeted them at the beach tonight-, told y/n her hope had been futile.

Conrad didn’t turn his head as he heard y/n approaching. Instead, he wiggled his toes into the cold sand under his flip-flops as he exhaled another cloud of smoke. Conrad knew by the sound of her feet shuffling in the sand, that y/n was hesitant to join him. He felt a twinge of guilt knowing he’d caused that unfamiliar tension between them. But, the guilt lessened in his body as he took another toke.

Y/n silently lowered herself onto the sand beside Conrad. She looked straight ahead, but still noticed the way he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Y/n sat wordlessly for a few minutes as she collected her thoughts. Where to even begin?

Conrad nearly laughed when y/n finally spoke. He didn’t know how he expected her to greet him, but he hadn’t anticipated her whispered, “this isn’t you”. Conrad pulled the blunt from his lips, pinching it between his fingers as he held it before him as if inspecting it. “Maybe you don’t know me anymore,” he muttered curtly.

“Yes I do,” y/n argued, glancing over at Conrad with a slight glare. Was he actually trying to imply she didn’t know him? This was Conrad; even when he was moody, she knew his heart. When Conrad merely raised an eyebrow at her, she sighed. “Stoic wall or not,” y/n commented scoldingly, “I know you”.

“You’re still the boy who went to three stores to replace my Monsters Inc. bandaids when Belly had put mine all over her babydoll,” y/n said, smiling to herself. “The one who taught me how to surf even though I sucked at it and Jeremiah said I was a lost cause,” she murmured as she stared out at the ocean. “You’re still that boy who begged his mom to let him drive to the store to get me cold medicine when I was sick that one summer, even though you only had your learner’s permit”.

Conrad nearly smiled as he listened to y/n recount some of the memories they had together. But, the mention of his mom sent the painful stab of reality back to the forefront his mind. “Well, people change,” Conrad muttered before bringing the blunt back to his mouth.

“Maybe,” y/n nodded in contemplation. She hummed, zipping up her lightweight jacket. “But, souls don’t,” y/n argued.

Conrad coughed on the marijuana smoke from his latest toke as he laughed. “That’s so cheesy,” he teased, a sly smile on his lips. Conrad shook his head in amused disbelief, “of course you’d say that”.

Y/n smirked as she looked over at her best friend. “Like I said, souls don’t change,” she repeated smugly. She reached over and wordlessly stole the blunt from him and put it out with a smirk. When Conrad laughed some more, she smiled contentedly as she leaned back, now propped up by her elbows.

Conrad smiled appreciatively at y/n. As annoying as most people would find her behavior, it was comforting. She was still y/n. He had to fight to keep himself from staring at her lips as they somehow shone even though the sky was dusk. He needed to get his mind off the all too familiar feeling that was creeping up on him again as he felt pulled to confess his feelings towards the girl beside him. So, Conrad reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a new blunt and his lighter. He quickly turned his back to y/n so she couldn’t put it out again as he ignited the end. Once it was lit, Conrad turned around and stared back out at the crashing waves.

Y/n scanned Conrad closely. She hated that he was clearly going through something that made him feel like he had to -or should- change his mind on matters like this. Conrad had been so against smoking -especially pot- before now. She didn’t know what had changed; after all, it wasn’t like he was offering much in the way of an explanation.

“Let me have a toke,” y/n stated, reaching for Conrad’s second blunt. She huffed in annoyance when Conrad pushed her hand away from his face.

“What?!” Conrad replied with a bewildered stare. “Y-you know the words?!” he groaned, analyzing y/n as if he’d never seen her before. “How?“ Conrad questioned, his tone coming off offended.

Y/n laughed loudly, her cheeks hurting from the wide grin on her face. “We’re not 7 anymore, Con,” she reminded lightly.

Conrad hummed loudly. He gave y/n a small sad nod. “I wish we were,” he confessed quietly. Conrad could feel y/N’s intense gaze on him, but he didn’t elaborate.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/n wondered.

Conrad shrugged faintly. “Just easier back then,” he mumbled. “But, that’s not where we are now”.

Y/n hummed. “I guess not,” she agreed vaguely on the premise. “Now, let me have one,” y/n repeated her request. She once again leaned over and reached for the blunt in Conrad’s hand.

“No,” Conrad argued, chuckling as he moved away from y/n’s reach.

Y/n frowned and furrowed her brows. She crossed her arms over her chest as she turned her body towards Conrad. “Why not?” Y/n retorted.

“You don’t smoke,” Conrad said simply. He smugly held the blunt away from y/n.

Y/n huffed loudly as she raised a brow. “Neither did you,” she countered.

“No,” Conrad said shaking his head, “still not happening”. He relit the end

“Why?” Y/n repeated.

“You’re against smoking,” Conrad stated simply.

“So were you,” y/n retorted with a smug tone.

Conrad huffs loudly in frustration. But he stopped lighting up nonetheless. “Somethings change,” he shrugged.

“So then let me see,” y/n protested. She nodded at the blunt in Conrad’s hand expectantly.

“No,” Conrad practically whined.

“Conrad,” y/n groaned as she once again reached for the joint.

Conrad pulled his hand away from y/n’s reach and shook his head. “No”. “It’s not going to happen,” he told her.

“Then what’s the real reason?” Y/n pressed knowingly.

“I’m not letting you put that into your body,” Conrad admitted. He stared directly at y/n in hopes of her understanding he wasn’t playing around; she wasn’t going to take a hit.

“But it’s okay going into yours?” Y/n questioned rhetorically.

Conrad shrugged. “Who cares?” He asked dismissively.

“I do, Con,” y/n stated matter of factly.

Conrad’s lips formed a small smirk. “Really?”

“Yeah,” y/n responded with a soft nod.

Conrad gave y/n an appreciative smile and put the joint away. “Okay”. He sighed as he intentioned shifted his gaze away from the girl who could still get him to do just about anything. “Though it’s not like it matters what one does or doesn’t put in to their body,” he mumbled as he stared at the ocean.

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked. She pushed herself off her elbows so she could see Conrad better.

“You can do it all right,” Conrad began, shaking his head. “And yet, life will still fuck you,” he gloomily said as he gazed into the distance.

“Con,” y/n whispered quietly as she watched him closely. “What’re you talking about?” She questioned hesitantly. Yet, despite her soft approach, Conrad nevertheless mumbled a dejected “nothing” as he once again shut down. Y/n hummed softly and grabbed his hand as she went to lay down. As her head hit the sand, she could feel his eyes on her as he watched her closely in silence. “If, and when, you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here,” she promised.

Conrad curled his lips upwards faintly. He wordlessly shifted and moved to lie down beside y/n. Only once he was completely flat on his back, facing the dark sky did he speak. “Not going to force me to tell you? Or be mad that I don’t?”

“No,” y/n replied tenderly. She gently squeezed Conrad’s hand as she stared at the stars that had begun to shine above them. “That’s not always the best way to handle things,” she said sympathetically. She knew Jeremiah and Belly had likely given him a rough time lately given his behavior. Y/n didn’t want to add to that. She just needed him to know she was here for him.

Conrad turned onto his side so he could face y/n. He leaned forward and blinked slowly as his eyes scanned her. After finding a loose hair floating beside her cheek farthest from him, he cautiously reached over to tuck it behind her distant ear.

Y/n had been watching Conrad calmly despite the way her heart was racing at how close he was. Yet, when his breath hit her nose, she couldn’t help but make a slightly disgusted face. He didn’t smell like himself. “You smell like smoke,” she murmured as her head sunk into the sand a little more to get away from the scent.

Conrad smirked and laughed loudly. “I thought you were wanting to smoke,” he teased.

Y/n bashfully broke eye contact and let go of Conrad’s hand. She playfully pushed him into the sand as she looked away with a quiet laugh.

Conrad grinned and shook his head. “Hey,” he whispered, grabbing y/n’s hand and pulling her closer. With his head hovering over hers, he smiled warmly. “Maybe you’re right, maybe some souls don’t change,” he said blissfully.

Y/n smirked shyly. “Told you,” she replied in a whisper.

Conrad laughed and leaned forward. He closed his eyes and kissed y/n’s forehead lips, his lingering on her skin. “I’m glad yours didn’t,” he confessed as he pulled away and laid back down on the sand beside her.

Y/n bit her lip affectionately as she tried to keep the butterflies in her stomach at bay. “Yours didn’t either, Con,” she remarked, her tone sure. “You’re still there, and I’ll be here every step of the way as you get that back,” y/n promised as she squeezed his hand.

“He’s such an ass,” Jeremiah hissed as he glared at the patio door that his older brother had just stormed out of.

Y/n shot the younger Fisher a look. “Stop,” she pleaded with a sigh. She hated hearing everyone talking about Conrad behind his back. Especially like this.

“It’s true!” Jeremiah defended loudly as he threw his hands up in the air. “How do you put up with that?” He groaned as he shook his head at y/n in disbelief.

“Just,” y/n sighed again. “Leave him be, please”.

Jeremiah scoffed and raised his eyebrows dramatically. “Why?” He questioned rhetorically. “He doesn’t care about anyone else,” he seethed.

Y/n squinted pointedly at Jeremiah. “Yes he does,” she said in defense of Conrad.

“No he doesn’t,” Jeremiah argued. “I mean come on, he isn’t doing anything this summer,” he began, putting one finger up as though he was making a list.

“He’s angry all the time,” Steven agreed with a frown as he set his beer on the counter.

“You’re reading it all wrong,” y/n protested. She looked out the patio window to see if she could still see Conrad or not. “He’s not angry,” she murmured. He’s hurt. And when Conrad gets hurt, he doesn’t know how to act.

“Y/n,” Belly sighed. She walked over to her friend and set her hand on y/n’s arm sympathetically. She knew what it was like to have a crush on Conrad, except fortunately she’d gotten over it by now. Whereas Belly could tell y/n hadn’t and therefore wasn’t processing what just happened properly. “He just snapped at you for no reason,” she reminded y/n gently.

Y/n shook her head. “He’s not angry,” she mumbled again as she moved away from the group in order to go after Conrad. She knew her friends were just trying to look out for her. But, she knew Conrad. Better than anyone. And she knew that his outburst moments ago was an overreaction to a potentially dangerous situation she’d put herself in. He’d just been trying to look out for her, but his overwhelming emotions made it come out wrong. She didn’t know what those overwhelming emotions were exactly nor what was creating them; but she knew him well enough to know it wasn’t just anger as their friends claimed.

Conrad groaned to himself as he heard footsteps nearing him. He had expected that after his outburst he would be left alone. He’d overreacted when y/n had acted a bit unsafely. But, he didn’t stop there. He went so far as to lash out at her afterwards. He’d seen the worry in her eyes and hoped his subsequent lashing out at her would keep her from following after him. He didn’t want y/n to see him like this. Besides, he didn’t deserve for her to come after him after the way he’d acted.

“Conrad,” y/n greeted quietly as she walked towards him.

“Go away,” Conrad grumbled with his back still to y/n.

“No,” y/n replied defiantly as she continued her approach.

Conrad shook his head. “Y/n knock it off, I’m not in the mood. I want to be alone”.

“That’s a lie,” y/n pointed out as she came within a few feet of Conrad.

Conrad quickly spun around in frustration. “God damnit Y/n!” He shouted.

Y/n’s heart shattered and she nearly gasped as she saw the tears Conrad was trying to hold back. She shook her head and moved closer. She saw the hesitant reaction he had and could see he wanted to keep his guard up. “It’s okay,” she promised quietly. “You don’t need to say anything.” Slowly, y/n made her way across the few feet between them and over to him. She wordlessly wrapped arms around Conrad and held him. It took a few patient moments, but Conrad eventually began to fall apart in her arms. Y/n held him to her tightly as she whispered soft words of support and encouragement as he practically clung onto her.

After Conrad had calmed and a few moments of comfortable silence had passed, he glanced at y/n. “Why didn’t you just ignore me like everyone else?” He wondered. “I’m being an ass,” he admitted.

“You’re hurting, Conrad,” y/n corrected. She noticed the way he froze and as much as she wanted to know what he was thinking, she just smiled sympathetically. “I don’t know why,” she acknowledged. “I’d like to, but I don’t have to know the why in order for me to see what’s really happening”.

“I can’t..-“ Conrad muttered hesitantly. He could see how badly y/n wanted to be there for him; for him to open up so she could. But, he couldn’t. He had to keep this to himself. Even if it was tearing him apart.

“That’s fine,” y/n nodded. She wrapped her arm back around Conrad, it having slipped slightly when he pulled back to look at her. She rubbed his arm as she felt him rest up against her.

Susannah was washing up some dishes from lunch when she overheard Conrad’s name. She sighed to herself as she thought about how strangely her eldest son had been acting lately. She tried to talk to Laurel about it earlier, in hopes that maybe she either had an idea as to why he was behaving this way or that she could get through to him. Conrad has always been close with Laurel, so she felt it was worth a shot.

However, as Susannah eavesdropped on the conversation between y/n and Laurel, she realized her oversight. She hadn’t wanted to get any of the kids involved, especially not when they already seemed equally frustrated with Conrad’s behavior. But, she hadn’t noticed how compassionately y/n had been handling the whole thing. In fact, as she listened to y/n defend Conrad to Laurel just now, Susannah wished she had as much compassion as the girl somehow still had. Susannah knew Conrad had been pushing away his friends, including y/n a lot lately and was being far more difficult with them than he was to Susannah herself. Yet, Susannah had long grown frustrated with her son’s behavior nevertheless. She loved him, so much, but she despised his recent behavior; even if most of it was directed away from her. So she couldn’t help but cherish the way y/n still showed such compassion for Conrad despite being one of the people he was trying so hard to push away.

“I really think you should just let him be,” Laurel commented in a sympathetic tone. “He clearly wants to be left alone,” she pointed out.

“No he doesn’t,” y/n sighed as she sat down on one of the lounge chairs. “He’s just going through something is all,” she shrugged. She didn’t know what more to say. After all, she didn’t want to expose any secret of Conrad’s, not that she even knew what was going on currently; but, still.

Laurel shook her head sadly. “I can see that,” she remarked, “we all can”. She tsked loudly as she continued wiping down the patio side table. “Problem is, he’s too confident and thinks too highly of himself right now”.

Y/n scoffed and stood up. “No he doesn’t,” she argued. How could they all be so dense? Couldn’t they see it was clearly the opposite? Couldn’t they see that Conrad was pushing people away because he was trying to hide the fact that he was uncertain about whatever was troubling him? Y/n still might not know what it was exactly that troubled him, but she knew his actions weren’t from being overly confident.

“Look, Laurel,” y/n said evenly as she tried to maintain her frustration. “I know everyone is upset with him lately,” she sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “But, no one knows what’s truly going on. And talking about him behind his back isn’t going to help anything”. She could tell Laurel was about to reply so she quickly shook her head. “Especially not when you guys are all looking at his actions instead of trying to understand them; to understand him!” She huffed loudly as she began to slowly pace in front of the lounge chair she had once been sitting on. “Maybe you all should stop looking at the behavior and see what triggered it, what caused him to act like that”. Y/n felt sometimes both Conrad’s actions and the triggers showed his underlying emotions, but clearly they weren’t seeing it that way, so she figured changing their focus might help. With that, she shook her head and walked down the patio to the beach to clear her mind.

Susannah finished drying the dishes and made her way to her eldest son’s bedroom. She knocked and waited for permission to open the door. When it finally came, she creaked his bedroom door open and slowly made her way inside. She could tell he hadn’t done much other than be on his phone since lunch. Once again, something that wasn’t like him. Especially not during the summer, and not when y/n was around and free.

“You know,” Susannah whispered as she sat on the edge of Conrad’s mattress. She watched with a small smile as he sat up in response. “I know how you feel about her,” she told him vaguely, knowing he didn’t need her to say the girl’s name to know who she was talking about.

“Mom,” Conrad groaned with a roll of his eyes.

“Do not roll your eyes at me,” Susannah scolded lightly, resulting in Conrad nodding and giving her an apologetic look. “Anyways, Connie,” she continued, “I also know you’re pushing her away for some reason”.

Before Conrad could argue, Susannah held up her hand. “Don’t try to act as if you’re not,” she warned, “you’re pushing everyone away”. “I may not know why you’re doing it,” she sighed, grabbing her sons hand from where it was resting on the bed. “But, you’re only going to cause both of you so much more pain. She somehow seems to understand you better than anyone,” Susannah commented with a tender smile, “maybe even better than you know yourself. She’s stubborn when she cares. So, you can keep causing trouble for yourself and for her, or you can try to let her in again”.

Conrad just stared at his mom for a moment. He knew she was right. But he couldn’t. If his mom truly knew what he was dealing with, she wouldn’t be telling him it was okay to talk to someone else about it. Right? After all, she didn’t want anyone to know about it. That much he knew. But, that was already ruined as he himself knew. Perhaps one more person wouldn’t hurt. Right? Conrad shook his head. “I’m fine, mom,” he said, adding a sigh when she gave him a sad look, “really”.

“Conrad, just breathe,” y/n whispered as she held his upper bicep tenderly. “Just breathe,” she repeated. She’d followed him out from a party where he’d gotten worked up over something minor once again. And now they were on the beach as she tried to help Conrad through what appeared to be a panic attack. “I’m here, just copy my breath,” she advised calmly.

It had taken y/n several tense moments to calm Conrad down. But now they were seated on the cold sand, shoulders touching, as they stared out at the sea. Well, while Conrad stared out at the sea. Meanwhile, y/n was watching his profile closely.

“How often do you get them?” Y/n questioned softly as she took hold of Conrad’s closest hand.

“W-what?” Conrad asked, his gaze snapping towards y/n.

Y/n gave him a warm smile and squeezed his hand supportively. “The panic attacks,” she said, pausing when she saw the understanding of his experiences dawn on him. “That’s what they are, Con,” she commented. “I know because I get them too,” she added bashfully.

Conrad’s eyes squinted and he abruptly shifted to see y/n better. “What? Since when? Why didn’t y-“ he began to ask, a thousand worried questions entering his mind.

“Con, breathe,” y/n directly calmly. “I don’t usually get them in the summer,” she admitted. “As you can see, it has to do with stress and anxiety, I tend to have less of that in the summers,” she paused as a timid smile formed on her lips, “or, at least the summers I get to spend here, with you”.

Conrad felt his cheeks heat up as he bit back a smile. Only, his giddiness dissipated quickly. “And I’m ruining that with -“ he began guiltily.

“No,” y/n stated firmly as she turned to face Conrad. She shook her head. “Conrad, you’re not ruining anything,” she promised. “I don’t mind following your moody ass out of parties all summer,” she teased.

Conrad chuckled and shook his head. “I… I want to.. to tell-“ he paused and sighed as he broke eye contact with y/n. He couldn’t tell her. No matter how much it would help to get it off his chest. He didn’t want to make her have to deal with the knowledge of his mother’s condition the way he had been. Even if it meant he would still have to face this alone. “It’s a lot,” he commented vaguely as he looked back out at the waves.

Y/n hummed and leaned her head against Conrad’s shoulder. “I know,” she commented kindly. “You don’t have to tell me,” she added, nuzzling her head deeper against his shoulder. “But because I know you, because souls don’t change,” y/n said, echoing her words from an earlier conversation, “I know you feel you have to face this, whatever this is, alone”. She sighed as she lifted her head off Conrad’s shoulder in order to look him in the eyes. “But you’ve never let me face anything alone,” she smiled, “so I’d really like to help you carry the weight of whatever you’re going through, if you’ll let me”.

Conrad gave y/n a sad but appreciative smile. He reached out and shakingly tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “I want to,” he admitted, “selfishly, I want to”.

Y/n shook her head. “It isn’t selfish,” she corrected, staring back at Conrad. “You’d be letting me do this,” she argued softly.

Conrad laughed lightly. “Some souls never change,” he murmured happily as he gazed into y/n’s patient eyes. He sighed and looked away. “I … I’m not supposed to even know, but I do”.

“I see,” y/n replied slowly. “Well, you don’t have to be alone in that knowledge. And no one else has to know that either of us know,” she promised with a gentle smile.

It took time for Conrad to fully open up about what it was he had been dealing with. But, he was immensely grateful he’d pushed past his reservations to do so. Not only had he and y/n become even closer friends, he could now also not just rely on her support but also benefit from not being alone in his pain. He now had someone who was trying to reassure him that the taunting voices in his head were wrong. Someone who tried to silence the self blaming thoughts that told him it was his fault; that he should’ve seen the signs. It was something he desperately needed, especially on nights like tonight.

Conrad had finally gotten ahold of his breathing; with y/N’s help once again. But, he couldn’t ignore the thoughts that were still bouncing around in his mind. Thoughts that told him he could’ve pretended this. Thoughts that told him off for the way he’d treated everyone as a result of harboring this secret on his own for so long.

Y/n glanced over at Conrad knowingly and mentally sighed in sympathy. She shifted her butt in the sand to see him straight on and smiled when his eyes shifted from the water to meet hers. “Hey,” she commented.

Conrad chuckled and smiled back. “Hey,” he echoed, grabbing y/N’s hand as it rested between them on the sand.

“They’re wrong, ya know,” y/n promised warmly, her eyes focused in on Conrad’s. “The thoughts,” she explained gently.

Conrad felt his cheeks flush as the corner of his lips curled up even more. Of course she’d seen through him and his silence. He shook his head and rugged her hand towards him. He watched silently as y/n shifted in order to comply with his wishes. Once she was curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder again, he sighed. Conrad crooked his head and placed a gentle kiss to the side of y/N’s head. One day he’d offer her more, when he was in the right mental state to do so without risking hurting her along the way should he push people away again. For now, he simply smiled lightly to himself as he whispered, “thank you for understanding me”.

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[whatthefishh]

Hello there babes!

As we discussed: Human weighted blanket + Din, please 🥺 smut if you're inspired!

Sorry for taking so long with this!! I hope you like it! I took a little different route from my original idea but, here we go lolll. Thanks @kittyofalltrades for reading it over bb ❤️

*NSFW under the cut* 2k of Din Djarin smut.

You look up from your place on the cot to see the small amount of light being blocked by a giant, dark figure and your heart beats a little quicker at the sight. The way he looks in his beskar is familiar, but it still gives you the same fluttering in your lower belly every time you see him standing tall in his armour. Shoulders so wide you find your eyes dragging over the width of him regularly, wherever you may be.

Right now, Din looks like he’s about to collapse on you, like he’s allowing himself to drop all his weight forward. Frantically holding your hands out to shield yourself, you yell, “Don’t come in the bed in all that metal, you’re gonna crush me!”

Sighing dramatically, he leans away from his previous position, which was seconds away from climbing on top of you, and slowly removes his helmet. Soulful brown eyes meet yours as the black visor is out of sight and drops to the ground. Maintaining eye contact, he begins taking off his chest plate, followed by his under armour garments.

When he first came in, you thought he needed comfort, but the more layers he removed to obey your demand, the more heated your gaze became. He noticed. So, yeah, he starts peeling off the layers with a little more flair and a little less haste. Your mouth goes dry as your lips part. He noticed that, too.

Din finally climbs on top of you in your makeshift bed, and you begin to shift because you think he’s going to hold you from behind. Instead, he holds himself parallel to you before plopping his weight on you completely, face burying into your neck and his hands sliding up and under your pillow to get comfortable.

You’re frozen before your body acclimates to the weight of the warrior, currently nuzzling his nose into you and humming low in his throat. Your legs split on their own accord, hips notching together naturally. Din’s thighs keep your legs open as your hands slide up his back into his curls, holding his head in place from the nape of his neck.

Din’s nuzzling slowly transitioned into pressing his mouth into your skin, leaving you slightly breathless. The combination of melting into the mattress with his full weight on you mixed with the addictive feel of his lips dragging on the sensitive part of your neck was dizzying. He tried to be subtle with the grinding of his hips into yours, causing your breath to catch.

You whimpered when he started sucking slightly after each press of his lips.

“Din…” you sighed.

He responded with a quiet groan before pulling out one of his hands to slide down the side of your body, slightly squeezing the flesh as he did so. He only stopped when he reached your sleeping bottoms, fingers dancing along the waistband.

Pulling back to look peer down at you for permission, you nodded, kissing his chin softly as confirmation. Resting his forehead against yours he reached into your bottoms, fingers seeking out your hot sex, breath heavily leaving him as he finds you already wet.

“Mmmm.”

The usual raspiness of his voice through his modulator left you wanting, but this? When you could feel the vibrations of every noise he made against your rib cage, against your whole being, it lit your skin on fire.

“Din, please,” you whimpered again, desperate for his teasing fingers to fill you in the ways you know your own can’t.

His lips twitch. Bastard.

“Din, Maker, I’m going to-“

“You’ll what? You can’t move even if you wanted to, which we both know you don’t.”

That shouldn’t make you wetter than you already are but you felt yourself leaking on the fingers that rested just outside where you needed them. He pushed the tip of his finger into your hole, just resting inside to feel it flutter around his skin. You close your eyes in an attempt to control your breathing as you realize you’re panting into his mouth, his face inches from yours.

“I love it.”

You have no idea what he’s referring to because all you can focus on is where you need him and where he’s not touching you.

“W-what?”

“The face you make. Especially when I do this.”

At the last word, he thrusts the two fingers the rest of the way into your cunt, feeling your walls hug them at the intrusion. Your eyes scrunch closed, mouth drops open and a tiny mewl leaves your lips.

Kissing his way back to the spot on your neck he was nuzzling before, he rests his weight on you entirely again, leaving your limbs heavy. How was it you felt both relaxed and pent up at the same time?

After keeping his fingers still for a long, tense minute, Din begins to slowly drag his fingers out, plays with your folds a bit, spreads your slick around and then pushes back in. He repeats this at such a leisurely pace, thoroughly enjoying just playing with you and building you up, but not paying it any mind. He wasn’t trying to be cruel, you know this. Din just really liked the feel of you, of how your body reacts to him, how even with soft and slow touches he could bring you pleasure. In a steep contrast to his wide knowledge of combat and lethal interactions, he found a reprieve in between your legs.

You keened as the pressure built steadily between your thighs, regardless of his slow pace. The low gruff voice in your ear telling you how soft and wet you were for him was pushing you towards the edge, and you felt engulfed by him. The way you were literally pinned to the mattress by Din’s sheer size, unable to do anything but take the slow torture he was inflicting on you. Your bodies were so tightly pressed together you couldn’t reach his hand, leaving him truly in charge of your pleasure at the moment, and the thought only made you whine louder in his ear.

“Such pretty noises,” he groaned into your neck. “Are you going to come for me? Gush all over me?”

Maker. That almost did it for you, just a little push was all you needed, your breath coming out in half whines now as Din continued to mar your skin with licks and bites.

“Uh-huh.” Was all you could manage with the intensity of the first wave of pleasure washing over you. He curled his fingers inside on the next stroke in and- “Oh!”

Your vision went black as your eyes closed in bliss, pussy clamping down on his thick fingers, which had stilled inside, giving you something to hold on to while you rode out your high.

Belatedly you realize Din is looking at you, perched on one elbow, and he’s been grinding his hardened length into your thigh. The thought of him filling you up in this position sends another shot of pleasure to your core, clenching on his fingers once again.

“Mesh'la, did you need something else? My fingers not enough for you?” At that he pulls them out, resting them against your lips waiting for you to clean them.

You lazily take them into your mouth, licking your spend from them and humming around his digits. Looking up at him through your lashes while he pulls his fingers back, you raise your hips up to press against his length, wordlessly asking for his cock.

Din leans down to kiss you messily, languidly dipping his tongue to dance with yours and your mind goes white in the kiss. It’s all consuming, like a slow fire in your veins, your hand tightening in his curls desperate to keep connected.

All you can think about is his taste, his skillful fingers that he just made you come apart on, the heavy stature of your strong lover resting against you comfortably, Din, Din, all Din.

You’re so lost in his indulgent kiss that you miss his hand moving to line himself up to your entrance, moaning loudly into his mouth when you feel the tip of him starting to breach your core.

Breaking apart for air, Din takes the opportunity to swiftly push all the way inside and watches your face as you fall into pleasure.

Resting his elbows on the bed again, he lets his weight settle into you again, effectively melting you into the mattress before he begins his slow torment. The pace he chooses to start with drives you mad, fingernails digging into his back at every hard thrust back in, but the slow drag when he pulls back is what causes the air to leave you in a gasp.

He continues like that for Maker knows how long, muscles flexing under your hands, low grunts in your ear as you continue to gasp and sigh in his ear, moaning loudly on a particularly hard thrust. After that he picks up the pace, still resting heavily on you but Din’s strength allows him to fuck you into the mattress without ever letting up.

You come a second time, pussy clenching hard around his cock and making his already slick thrusts much smoother. He groans as he feels your slick smearing across your thigh, messily spreading as he continues to fuck you through it.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s what you needed, right?”

Din finally rises to his knees, his length pulling out entirely. He shifts your legs so they’re splayed wide across his thighs before he pushes his cock back in, both of you moaning at the new angle. Holding your hip with one hand, the other pushes down on your lower belly as he begins to brutally fuck into you again.

“Look so good like this. So wet, you take me so well.”

Your fingers scramble to clutch on to him, hands reaching his forearms, desperate to ground yourself as you feel the pressure building uncontrollably again.

“Din, it’s too much, I-“ your pathetic whine as he presses down on you cuts you off from your weak protests.

“Be good for me. You can take me, can’t you? Don’t you want to be my good girl?”

Your whines were hysterical now, his thrusts knocking something devastating inside you, and the large heavy palm that kept its weight on your lower stomach inched its way towards your clit, thumb rubbing you just right.

“Take it, take me. That’s it.” He growls the last part while you cry out, coming for the third time.

A few more brutal, erratic thrusts and he joins you, hot ropes of cum painting your insides as he stills his hips.

Din looks ethereal like this, a marble sculpture with his head thrown back, eyes shut in ecstasy and muscles glowing from exertion.

You’re staring at him, completely dazed as he starts to leak out of you, but you’re not paying it any mind. Even as he comes to and starts to pull out, the action causing you to whimper pathetically from sensitivity, you still can’t take your eyes off him.

He’s saying something now, asking you something.

“Mmm?”

“I asked if you were okay to walk to the fresher on your own or if you needed my help.”

Blinking owlishly at him as you processed what he was saying, he huffed out a laugh before collecting you in his arms.

The man literally fucked you into the mattress and now he expected you to walk right after?

“Shh, I’ve got you, mesh’la. Did so good for me, let’s wash up now.”

Resting your head against his collarbone as he carried you across his ship, you laughed at the memory of how tired he looked when he initially came to you. Laughing even harder at the idea of how crazy you probably looked to him, hysterical giggles bubbling out of you as he looked down at you in concern.

[purplelupins]

Agnellino

|Ghost|

Terzo/Papa Emeritus III x Fem!reader

Summery: You hoped the church wouldn’t find out about your little lie upon joining them…but evidently your papa is smarter than you think.

Warnings: nsfw, power imbalance, light body worship (f receiving), fingering, low-key manipulation…Terzo being a horny man.

Notes: this is a commission for @ethanhoewke and I do NOT speak Italian so if anything is wrong here it’s not my fault. I took creative liberty and called the church “Satanae Ecclesiae”.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Nighttime was when you felt most vulnerable.

You were selfconsious when the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

It wasn’t that you were just shy, however. It was that you felt out of place…overly observed and scrutinized.

Stared at.

Picked apart.

It didn’t matter that you wore the same habit as every other Sister of Sin or that you recited your nightly prayers in any incorrect manner- in fact you recited them better than most.

It was that you were a latest addition to the flock.

You were new.

And new was interesting.

The edges of the grucifix clutched in your hand nearly began to draw blood from how tightly you grasped it. Your eyes grew glassy with tears that wouldn’t fall as you refused to blink; the sight before you too extraordinary to miss.

Rituals were in and of themselves a sight to behold, regardless of the papa delivering it, but since you had joined the Satanae Ecclesiae when you did, you had the sublime pleasure of being guided by Papa Emeritus III…or Terzo as he insisted most everyone call him. He was dramatic and perverted and commanding- a fair contrast, you had been told, to his predecessors. There were very few reserved or modest bones in his body.

As the man stood upon his pulpit and spoke down to you and your fellow brothers and sisters, his words seemed to muffle in your ears, though you still absorbed them. It was as if he was communicating to you on another plane of being. Like a sixth sense. You wondered if that was how your fellow children of sin felt, or if you were alone in your rapture.

“…bow your heads now my children, and let your eyes fall to the stone beneath your feet, for it is what lay beneath them that will be your forever home once you are freed from your life here. You are cursed and damned, may Satan devour your souls…Nema.” His voice echoed in the large stone hall, and following his words, you all bowed your heads, and the soft murmur of “Nema.” rippled around you.

You finally sucked in a deep breath that you had been meaning to for an hour, but simply hadn’t been able to lest you make a noise in the silent room. The last thing you wanted were more eyes on you. You had made a point of remaining as anonymous as possible ever since you had been initiated during your first ritual.

That night, you had been told to stand before the pulpit, and accept the ceremonial welcoming from your papa, just as everyone else had. However, as soon as he had knelt down to you, and extended his hand with a flick of his wrist for you to take, your mind had gone blank. Your papa had taken your hand, and pulled you to the edge of the pulpit where he leaned over to you, drawing you in as close as you could before your ribs ached from being pressed against the wood. Those mismatched eyes of his had bored into your soul and mind. You didn’t even remember reciting your vows, but evidently you had done well as the next thing you had known you were being pulled in for hugs and kisses to your cheeks from various children of sin.

They had welcomed you into their home with open arms, and you hadn’t looked back. But since then, you had indeed been the talk of the compound.

The sisters nearest to you began to shuffle out, or talk amongst themselves.

It seemed, however, that you had forgotten to lower your gaze from your papa; unfortunately for you, once you did in fact realize your error, it was too late. Papa continued to gaze across the crowd and seeing as you were one of the only faces turned up to him, he caught your stare quickly. You felt as if you had been gripped by his eyes alone; he gazed into your very soul like he knew it was fresh…young…not yet entirely sinful.

He smirked.

Actually smirked.

You felt a shiver run down your spine- you couldn’t look away. It was…it was almost as if he could tell you were still untouched.

But how could he know?

You had told them otherwise…it wasn’t as if he could find out. Your heart began to race at the idea of him knowing that you had lied…

The seats around you began to empty, and you took the movement around you as your escape. It made your chest ache to look away, but the longer you waited the harder it would have been.

The sound of shoes on the stone floors reverberated around the halls, as did the chatter- both lively gossip and sleepy grumbles. As you went to turn down your wing to reach your room, a hand gripped your shoulder and halted you.

“Pardon me sister.”

You turned and saw one of the senior sisters standing before you, a straight stare on her face. You wondered how they showed such little emotion sometimes…you knew that they were indeed capable of a great deal of feeling- you had seen them laugh and smile many times…but there came times where they looked like statues.

“Good evening, sister…can I help?” You replied, hands clasped neatly in front of you.

Your elder nodded.

“His Unholiness has requested your presence imminently.” She said, gesturing behind her, back through the dark corridors.

You felt all blood drain from your face.

Had you done something wrong? Cursed hell below…did he take offence to your staring? We’re not completing your daily duties correctly? Was there something wrong with your initiation-

You froze.

He knew.

When you had joined the welcoming arms of Satanae Ecclesiae, they had asked you whether or not you had been…taken. “Fucked” they had said to be precise. You had nearly choked, and to save your embarrassment, you had managed a “Yes.” Regardless of the lie.

That “Yes” had been one of the biggest lies that you had ever told. Hell, you barely even knew how to touch yourself let along be touched by someone.

“Sister y/n?” The elder asked.

You snapped out of your daze and stared back at her dumbly.

“I asked if you needed me to show you the way to his chambers.” She must have asked a few times to sound that cross.

You quickly shook your head. You knew where he was- you had walked past his door many a time, often blushing from the noises you would hear from behind the door- sometimes his voice, sometimes not. It was understood that Papa took care of his children, and he had his favourites. Said favoured brothers and sisters would…receive special attention from him. Not that you had gotten any sort of attention, and while you grew jealous from the stories you heard, you knew you wouldn’t know what to do even if you…if he…

You blushed.

You wouldn’t even know what to do if they found out your little secret…and now here you were. In that exact situation.

“I-I know where I’m going.” You whispered.

It seemed you stayed rooted to the spot a moment too long as the sister gave you an expectant look.

“Oh! Thank you. I’ll- Thank you sister. Goodnight.” You lowered your head and moved past her as a sign of respect, and scurried off. As soon as you were back in the main hall that split the compound into its various wings, you felt a cold sweat break out on your skin, and a tremor in your hands.

Only a few brothers and sisters passed by you, sending you simple greetings as their eyes devoured you. Then as their voices and footsteps faded away, all you were left with were the constant echoes of the souls who refused to leave the church- even after passing from this world to the next, decades or centuries ago; those who lurked in the shadows and sang to those who would listen…tempting them to join them in the afterlife.

Their mournful voices were addicting, and while it scared some, you found an odd comfort in them- even found yourself speaking to them. They kept you company as you began down the corridor leading to the Emeritus wing. Just as it’s name suggested, every Papa -past and present- lived there. The stones were a beautiful onyx, and gold torches lined the walls, as did various tapestries. It was considered an honour to walk down that hall, and should be treated as an act of worship.

The further you went, the less you could hear as your mind spun. If it weren’t for sheer muscle memory, you would have missed the door to Papa’s chambers. Indeed, due to your youth and desire to please,you had been entrusted with the job of second messenger between Papa II and Sister Imperator- a result of which had you frequenting that very wing daily.

You had grown fairly comfortable after the first two months, though the butterflies never seemed to fully settle when you passed that particular door that led to the current papas chambers.

You stood outside the imposing, ornate door, and your arms felt too heavy to lift and knock on the wood. Your brow was scrunched in thought and worry as you wondered what life might hold for you if they did indeed remove you from the church…where would you go? What would you do?

Your head swam helplessly, and once you finally found your strength to knock, there was a gentle “Enter.” before your knuckles could even touch the wood.

Somehow him being aware of your presence before even hearing or seeing you terrified you more.

If he did know your secret…would you be cast out? Would you be deemed too pure?

Not wanting to keep him longer than you had, you turned the knob, and pushed on the door. The soft glow emanating from hundreds of red, melting candles enveloped you immediately, and you took a moment to gaze around the lush room. A stark contrast to your simple chamber. There were plush carpets, and beautifully woven tapestries on the walls, along with magnificent paintings. Bookshelves stuffed, and vases of black roses.

“Good evening, young sister, you found you way easily I see.”

You slowly looked to your right where a large desk sat infront of a circular window. Well, it wasn’t the desk that you were staring at- it was the man sat at it. Papa Emeritus III, still donning his painted face, tousled hair and white gloves. His black jacket was nowhere to be seen, and his white vest was unbuttoned to show his shirt beneath it- the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had his feet propped up on the top of the desk, and you noticed how much his shoes shined.

He spoke to you, idiot.

“Yes, Papa…Thank you. I was told you required my presence, your unholiness…is there someth-“

“Terzo.” He said simply, a slight roll to his “R”.

You blinked and forgot anything you were saying. “I’m sorry?” You asked, taking a few steps inside as the door closed.

“You and I are alone, little one. You will call me Terzo, yes?” He removed his feet from his desk and leaned forward onto his elbows, giving you his complete, undivided attention. His gaze was even heavier with no crowd to disappear into.

You could already feel a blush creep up from under your habit. “Yes Pa- Terzo.” You managed. You would be lying if you said this was your first time murmuring husband name; although most of the time it was you alone with your thoughts in your chambers when you said it…you nightgown bunched up around your hips and your hand between your thighs-

He smiled, and you nearly buckled at the sight of it. “Good! Now come. Sit. You and I have somethings to discuss.”

You nodded and quickly made you way to the chair in front of the desk, but just as you were about to take a seat, you heard him tut you.

“Ah, ah…” he patted his lap and held his hand out for you, “Here will do.”

For the third time that night, you were rooted to your spot. Immobile. Your eyes flicked to his lap, and the way his legs spread. You would have backed away if it weren’t for his calm face and steady gaze inviting you closer. It was as if his energy alone or some invisible force was beckoning you to him.

You wordlessly walked around the desk, and slowly lowered yourself to perch on his thigh. You would be lying if you said it didn’t feel nice.

“There’s a good girl…now, I hate doing these sorts of things…far too dull for me, but evidently it needs to be done…” he half murmured to himself, running his hand through his hair. You absentmindedly wondered what he used in it. But as soon as the meaning of his words registered in your head, you could feel tears start to well in your eyes, and a sob build in your throat.

This was it.

They were going to send you away, “Are you going t-to punish me?” You whimpered.

Terzo snapped his gaze to you and barked out a laugh; upon seeing your expression however, he schooled his face and thought for a moment. For the right words to comfort you. “I wouldn’t say that, no…I certainly hope you don’t see it as punishment.” His voice rumbled in his chest, and his breath fanned across your face.

You looked away from him, gripping the skirt of your habit, “But you’re going to send me away aren’t you?”

He was silent for a long minute. You assumed it was him thinking of a way to soften the blow, but then he gently turned your face to his, and he spoke so softly. “La mia dolce ragazza…what are you speaking of?” He asked.

You slowly rose your eyes up to meet his. What you were met with was a patient confusion, and you were reminded of the father figure position he held to you and your fellow children of sin.

“I lied.” You whispered, trying to ignore how close he was.

Terzo continued to stare until he blinked and looked away with a nod.

He sighed. “You lied to us…yes.” He nodded again as if to confirm your statement, but somehow the purse of his lips was lacking the seriousness you had expected for such a statement.

A feather-light touch to your hip made you jump. His hand came to settle there, respectfully but still somewhere that could be considered taboo . Then everything hit you all at once. You were in Papa’s chambers…sat in his lap, with his hand on your hip and his breath against your cheek and you could smell him so clearly…Satan he smelled good-

“But…” he sighed, “You know I like to think I am a fair papa…” he looked at you again, and this time his arm came to rest around your waist, cradling you. “Would you like to stay?” He asked.

Your eyes went wide. “Very much.”

“Yes?” He asked, his hand creeping back down to your hip; his grip a little less gentlemanly. Terzo’s touch, however, was so gentle you didn’t even notice him hiking your dress up; even as the cool air snaked up your ankles and calves.

“Please.” You breathed, hoping he’d see how badly you wished to stay.

Terzo’s chest began to rise and fall quicker.

“I think we are both very well aware that something needs to change, hm?” His hand was now under your skirt, at the soft crease between your thigh and your hip, gloved thumb stroking your skin.

It was then, that you finally realised that you were no longer the picture of sinful modesty.

“P-papa-?” You whispered, suddenly hyper aware of how he had been dragging you closer to him on his lap. Indeed, when you had originally taken your seat on him, you had begun on his knee, and he now had you firmly tucked into his hip- your rear against his groin.

Tsk. He clicked his tongue.

Your eyes widened at your mistake, “Ter-Terzo, forgive me.” You corrected yourself, “I’m…what are you-“ you couldn’t find the right words. You expected yourself to awaken at any moment- that this was all just another one of your dreams where you’d awaken with an ache between your thighs where you wished his head would be.

“You haven’t noticed have you?” He cooed.

There was nothing you could do but stare at him, and Terzo was more than happy to elaborate.

“You think I haven’t been craving to touch you since you lied so clearly that first day? You thought I didn’t notice?” His breath was against your neck, smoothing against your skin, down under your collar.

“I-I don’t-“ you couldn’t think as his hand dipped completely under your skirt and over your navel, just skimming the top of your panties; his hands steady as ever, as if he had no idea what he did to you.

“You don’t? Shame. You got me fucking hard tonight, you know that?…La mia bella ragazza.” His voice lowered into a husky rasp that sent shivers up and down your spine. “I knew you lied. I knew no one had been given the pleasure of having you…I could almost taste you…” his hands wandered even more, the other now pulling your habit to slip it inside and palm your breast, his gloved fingers pinching your nipple. “Will you let me have you, la mia piccola?”

Your breathing came in quick gasps and your chest rose and fell rapidly; every inch of your skin was on fire.

Who were you to say no to your papa?

You nodded, words escaping you.

Terzo clicked his tongue again, “No no no no, mia bella…tell your papa.”

He wanted to hear you. A simple nod would not suffice when he desired the joy of hearing your pathetic little voice telling him you were his to have.

But then he heard that little intake of breath, and before you even spoke he knew you were weakened for him.

“Take-take me papa…” you whispered.

Those words alone were nearly enough to break the great Terzo apart…but somehow he remained whole. Whole and completely unable to restrain himself.

“Satana aiutami…” he purred before his lips were on yours and his hand under your skirt was dipping under your panties. You could taste the makeup he still wore, and wine on his tongue but they only made you dizzier; melting even further into his touch.Something that evidently pleased him greatly.

His hand drew gentle circles around your clit, but after only a moment he pulled away; an involuntary mewl left you.

He chuckled and kissed your hair. You were already so helplessly needy for him.

Then, he nodded to something just past your face, and when you followed his gaze, you were met with his gloved hand, fingers now by your mouth. You looked from him to the glove, and after a moment, you leaned forward and took the tip of the index finger into your mouth and pulled. The fabric came clean off, but you kept it in your mouth.

Terzo’s lips parted and his eyes became heavy as he watched his pristine glove dampen between your lips. You thought he might kiss you again, but instead he ripped the fabric from your mouth and replaced it with two of his fingers, place on the top of your tongue like an offering. He could have just taken what he wanted but instead he watched you intently. Waiting.

You tentatively ran your tongue along them, and watched your papa for any guidance, but all he could offer was a “Sì…that’s it.”

His makeup was smudged around his mouth, and his tongue looked as though it might being to lap at you, but he restrained himself as you began to suckle and lick at his long fingers. Terzo’a chest began to rise and fall quicker and quicker until he was nearly panting at the sight of you. Until it was too much. “Cosa mi stai facendo, ragazzina?” He asked with no desire for an answer.

He ripped his hand from your mouth and covered it with his lips again as his large hands groped at the fabric of your habit; pulling and tugging at it until the skirt was completely up around your hips and you were bare to him. You instinctively wished to cover yourself, but you fought to stay good for him- he wanted you bare and that was what you would be.

“Forgive me, piccola bellezza…Ti prego, lascia che ti tocchi!” He panted against your tongue. Your head was so dizzy you didn’t even care what he was saying…he could have asked to drink your blood and you would have been helpless to say no. So you nodded.

The next thing you felt were his hands on your hips. One running across your stomach then the other dipped down your navel.

“Y-you’re not goi-ng to fu- um- ah!” You could barely form words as his ungloved hand crept to the edge of your panties again and snapped the elastic before rubbing down your mound over your clit to your slit where he dipped his finger over the fabric to toy with you a little more.

“Oh I will fuck you mi amor…but you know my brothers? They have been taunting me…telling me I might never taste you…and I think I will do just that…very unhurriedly…and very thoroughly.” He worked his fingers past the hem of your panties until he found your bare bundle of nerves, and began to stroke it so gently you almost wondered if it was happening at all.

His free hand came up your torso to your neck where he held your head to the side easier; his lips coming back to yours in a slow but biting kiss. His teeth nipped and he sucked at your tongue like it was an offering from Satan himself.Terzo hooked your knees over his, giving complete control over the spread of your thighs to him.

By the time your papa had finished with your clit, your hips were bucking as if you were coursing with electricity with each pet and touch. His hot breath fanned over your cheeks as his concentration began to slip from your mouth down to between your legs.

Terzo eased his finger down from your clit to the slick slit that was begging for his touch. You clenched your thighs automatically at the foreign feeling, but his legs stopped them. “Ah ah…you’re doing so well, mia dolce piccola vergine…so well for your papa.” Terzo’s breathless voice sent a shiver down your spine. His excitement was as evident in his tone as it was against your backside, pressing into you.

He stroked through your wet lips, slightly dipping in before retreating again- enjoying torturing you. And oh your sounds made it all worth it. Whining, whimpering, your needy little pleas; your hands gripping his arms as they held you and caged you.

Again and again he denied you- savouring the fact that he would be the first person to toy with you as such. He hoped he would be the last as well…though with his brothers and that cardinal who loved rats, he knew…it was unlikely he would be able to keep you to himself.

“T-Terzo pl-please- ah….” You cried, tears shining in your eyes as your body pulsed with need. You hadn’t even cum yet and you were nearly limp from arousal. Your thighs twitched with every breath of his on your skin. After so long of wanting exactly this, you were finally there and couldn’t even find the words to express what an array of passionate emotions you were feeling.

Until finally, he relented, and slipped his long finger inside you. There was a moment where all time seemed to stop as his finger filled you. It was thick, and he immediately seemed to find that spot inside you that had you gasping for air. He bullied it with the pad of his finger, over and over again he stroked it, adding a second finger to the sweet torture.

It didn’t take long before you were stalking your head. “N-no please it-it’s too much!” You managed to get out in a rush as a hot coil began to twist and turn in your guts; getting tighter and tighter until you were crying out for mercy, to which you recieved a low, pleased chuckle from the man behind you.

“Are you going to cum?” He cooed.

Your eyes drooped and your lips parted, “I-I don’t- I - ah…I’m n-not su-“ your own high pitched whine interrupted your admission.

He tsked you. “My poor sweet thing…you are going to cum…that’s what it feels like, precious. Just do as I say, yes?” His voice was a purr in your ear. You trusted him. This was your papa…and he would take cared of you.~

You nodded helplessly, knowing you couldn’t do anything but that.

“I’m going to count down for you. You will count with me, yes?” Terzo crooked his fingers inside you and your vision began to go starry.

You nodded again. “Y-ah! Yes!”

“Good…10.” He began.

“10.” You said.

“9…” He began to strike you more deliberately, and you repeated the number; albeit very shakily.

“8.” He murmured, steadily fingering you in and out, not wanting to rush a single moment.

“7.” Trying to remember the number he had just said was difficult, but again you managed to whimper out the number.

“6….you can do it.” His grip around your waist was growing tighter, and you briefly wondered if he might crush you.

“5.” Halfway there and you felt as if you were holding on for dear life. You couldn’t even form words any longer, and thus resorted to tapping your finger five times on his forearm.

“4.” His voice was getting rougher with each second.

“3…” You knew you were close. Your legs began to shake and your moans refused to calm.

“2……” Terzo licked a long stripe up your neck, all the way to your ear.

“1.” You both said one in unison and it was as if he could play your body like an instrument; the next moment your papa was holding you like a lifeline. It was all too much for you mind and body alike, and you had not choice but to come apart in his arms.

“Ahhh there you go…well done.” He praised you, slowing his movements down to stroke you through your orgasm- the first of many. The sheer thought alone had him nearly bouncing with excitement. He would be the one to make you feel so perfectly.

He stilled his hand inside you, your gently little sobs were enough to tell him you were finished and overstimulated.

By the time Terzo was done with you, you had asleep in his bed instead of retiring to your chambers like you were supposed to. Not that Terzo minded, in fact he was considering keeping you there permanently for his own enjoyment.

His sweet little pet.

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[royculkins]

the universal curse of sensitivity — igby slocumb (Final Part)

part five: let the light in

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Igby Slocumb x reader

Warnings: Drug use, underage nicotine use, neglectful parents, explicit language, adults messing around with kids when they shouldn't, and anything else that can be found in the movie Igby Goes Down

Summary: Troublesome kids will always reach to find love and acceptance, even if it means making a mess where it's unintended. They’re just kids, but the older they get, the worse their inner conflicts haunt them. They want to please, but long to be pleased. They’re dramatic and self-sabotaging, they can’t help it⸺its the universal curse of their sensitivity.

Tag List: @gaysludge @wsrizz @confusedoatmeal @b1mb0slvt @slvttyclementine @he4vens-ang3l @alexiagx @moosh-i

Authors Note: It's crazy to think this is the end, but I'm so happy with how it turned out! My inspiration for this chapter was, of course, Let the Light In by Lana Del Rey and Work Song by Hozier. I hope you enjoy it! I love y'all so much!

4.6k words

The stars that hung in the sky on the night you spent with Igby would tell the tale of true warmth and delicate feelings for the rest of their burning lives. Echoing the comforting words the two of you shared. Encapsulating every touch, hug, and graze of fingertips against skin. They’d speak of the screaming color that wrapped itself around the two of your colorless lives while trying to recount the secret language of your understanding of one another.

And even if they could remember every intricate detail of that night⸺it still wouldn’t serve justice to how powerful the night truly was for you both.

That night replayed in your heads for days later, you didn’t speak about the looming presence of his family or your secret that could destroy the last lingering connection you had to your own. Instead, you held onto each other, words of comfort falling past lips and promising potential future harmony to each other. You had fallen asleep tangled in each other's presence and promises, letting reality slip away from your grasp as you soaked in the golden moment between the two of you.

However, reality would make itself apparent again. It had to⸺Igby, and you had known that from the moment he arrived at your apartment that night. But it didn’t make this day any easier.

The cold chill that had once been present in New York had allowed the graces of a warmer day to make itself known, the sun dancing across the sky with a watchful gaze. Igby glanced at it as he walked the familiar path to your apartment; his movements were more dreadful and slow than they had previously been. A part of him cursed this day away; he once wished for a warm day in this cold city, and he hated the irony that was a warm evening in this damnest of times.

He paused when your building came into his view, his eyes trained on the very window he first saw you. The memory of your body being haloed by the sun and your teasing voice irking his soul as you purposely called him the wrong name. He found you annoying and never imagined a world where your voice would become his beacon of light and liveliness.

Letting his hazel eyes rise up to where you two had shared countless joints and stared down at the passing people below, his eyes met your figure, and he had half a mind to turn around and forget what he had to do. Or he could join you and refuse to let reality capture him and swallow him whole. He wasn’t sure⸺he just knew he didn’t want to do this.

Any thought of running was banished from his mind as you leaned against the brick railing of your roof, looking down at his body that stood across the street. You tilt your head, watching the boy stand frozen in the middle of a frenzy of moving bodies. Even at a distance, even with many people standing between you, it somehow felt like it was just the two of you as your eyes locked on one another. Sucking in a breath, Igby drifted across the street toward your apartment as if he was a moth to a flame, unable to think of anything but getting to you and enjoying the burn of your light.

Pushing open the door to the roof, his eyes take only seconds to find you. Your body is in the exact place it was the first time you had invited him up to the roof. Your legs dangling on each side of the building as you turn to look at him, a small smile growing on your face. Igby takes this moment to let this image of you burn into his memory forever, the sun grazing against your features and your smile directed only toward him. Even though he dreads his future words, your smile feels so welcoming that he begins to form one of his own. Your impact on him showing clearly as he allows the warmth of the day to finally touch his own skin without cursing it away.

Approaching you slowly, he leans his body against the space just beside you⸺just as he had the first time and every time after. You watch as he stares at the people passing below, his eyes conflicted as his mouth twitches. You knew the day would come and that he’d dread it, but you couldn’t help but feel honored that he had come to see you one last time. There was a tiny amount of fear in you that he’d just leave⸺take off, running away from his family or returning to them without saying goodbye. Yet here he stood, needing you more than anything before he made his final decision.

Igby once believed that poverty was the only thing keeping him in New York, in that ratty apartment and this cold city. Yet as he stood there, he realized that now the only reason he’d ever want to stay⸺was for you.

He realized that every moment with you was warm; every time you looked at him, he could see the golden light he had always craved. Maybe he didn’t need to go somewhere new, maybe you were enough to save and free him from the icy curse of his family. He wasn’t sure how he was going to say goodbye to you⸺or if he’d even be able to.

“You decided to go home?”

Igby’s face screwed up at the term. He hadn’t called the house where his family lived home in a long time. He couldn’t even be able to recall the last time he even referred to it as such. Tearing his gaze away from the people on the sidewalk, Igby glanced at you before picking at the scarf he still had wrapped around his neck, “Got to make sure my mother actually croaks this time around.”

You don’t respond to his crude statement, you just continue to watch him struggle internally with the war in his head. Leaning forward, you catch his eyes and place your hand over the one that pulled relentlessly at a string on his clothing, “Are you going to be okay?”

He blinks fast at the question, still unfamiliar with the affection and genuinity of your voice. Suddenly, his decision to return to his mother's side doesn’t make any sense. Why would he ever return to such a horrid situation when someone as gentle as you existed? How was he supposed to leave you behind? Maybe he didn’t have to, “We should leave.”

Your eyebrows raise at his quickened words, his eyes turning to yours pleadingly as he continued almost frantically, “You and me. We can pack our bags and leave New York. It can just be us; we won’t have to worry about anything else.”

“Igby-.” You whisper, but the boy can’t stop as the words push past his lips. His fear of being in the same room as his mother and brother only increased his reasons for fleeing⸺except now he couldn’t do it unless you joined him. Shaking his head, the brunette stumbles over his words, “My family doesn’t care about me, and yours—yours keeps you locked away in this apartment! We could just leave and go and be happy without their constant weight! We could—We could–.”

The boy worked himself up so much that he resorted to pacing before you, causing you to remove yourself from the roof's edge to grab the boy's hands and keep him in place. He stops his rambling to look at your calm eyes.

“You know I can’t do that, Igby,” You whisper softly, searching his eyes to ensure that your words don’t come off as a rejection and instead a retelling of your familial situation. Truthfully, you would love to join the boy on his adventures, yet the pull of being the perfect child for your parents was too haunting and embedded for you to leave behind.

Scoffing, the boy shakes his head, not accepting the reasoning for your words. Your name falls from his lips in an exasperated tone as he speaks again, “Can’t you see that your parents are never going to let you out of here? They’re going to keep you locked away in this prison for the rest of your life, and you’re just letting them!”

“Igby-.”

“No! They have you! They already have you here! What makes you think they won’t have you locked away for the rest of your life? You need to get out of here, even if it’s not with me! Either way, I just–I just need you to get away from here, away from them,” The boy rants with frustration rising over your current issue, the truth of his feelings about it coming to light.

Sighing lightly, you can’t help but understand his words and his fears about your parent's future plans for you. You had thought about it many times before, yet you had already decided on these thoughts long before you met Igby. Now, your only concern was making sure the boy before you would be okay and escape in ways you’ve never been able to. Bringing a hand up to hold his jaw, his hazel eyes burn as they meet yours, listening carefully to every word that leaves your mouth, “With what money, Igby? How could either one of us live a life without money? Would we just share a couch and sell drugs around the city for Russel? Is that really what you want?”

Igby shook his head and looked down at his feet. He didn’t know how he’d get the money, he just knew he wanted to be with you. Closing his eyes, the boy knew that he had to return home if he wanted to escape life as a couch-surfing drug delivery boy. Taking a deep breath, he grabs your wrist gently and looks back up at you, “I can go back to my family, get the money, and come back for you. I can come back, and we can go anywhere we want. Just the two of us.”

A part of you wants to accept his offer, but you remember every story he told about this very moment. The moment that he had enough money to be happy and alone, you knew that it would be selfish to piggyback off his escape and claim it as your own. You just can’t do it to him, so you decline his offer again, “You’re going to go to your family, see your mom away, get your money, and then you’re going to be free. Without me.”

Igby shakes his head, his eyes closing in pain as his head drops, but you’re quick to pick it back up. His eyes are misty as he looks to you again, “Please.”

Your heart aches at his pleas, but you know he needed this. He needed to find himself without looking over his shoulder for his family or carrying you, “You have to get out of this city, away from your family. You have to be free and live without anything holding you back or causing any distractions. I need you to do that. I need you to let the light in, Igby. Please, if you do anything for me, I need it to be that.”

The Slocumb boy searches your eyes for any cracks in your words, but you mean every word. It hits Igby that you’re the only person who ever wanted him to do something for himself instead of moving in a way to please someone else. Letting his fingers rub up and down your arms, he stares deeply into your eyes as he admits in a whisper, “I think you’re the only real friend I’ve ever had.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you smile at the boy, “I think you’re mine as well.”

The two of you sit silently at your confession, knowing that what the two of you felt was something much deeper than friendship, yet it didn’t mean that the hushed words weren’t true. However, Igby can’t refrain himself as his hands cup your face and his lips connect to yours softly. Warmth and comfort wash over the two of you as your bodies press against each other in a gentle action of intimacy. Pulling away slowly, your foreheads lean against one another, and the boy raises his thumbs slightly to caress your cheek. You offer him a smile, which he returns before you whisper, “I’ll be expecting a postcard.”

Laughing lightly and shaking his head at your callback to his previous words, he breathes out, “I’ll send you a whole damn plane.”

You don’t respond; you can only lift your head to place a gentle kiss on the boy's mole that sits perfectly on his cheek. His eyes close at the action, his body filling with gratitude and solace at your small yet impactful action. The two of you know that this won’t be the last time you see each other, not when the longing feeling to return home to one another was deep in your marrow. Maybe that was why Igby was able to pull his body away from yours and return to his own haunted house a few cities away, but not before leaving his scarf wrapped around the door handle of your apartment door on his way out. Something to remember him by, something to remember that escape was possible and that he’d always come back if you so much as thought of it.

It would be almost a week until you’d hear from the boy again. You’d be in your apartment, trying to return to how life was before Igby. It was proven to be a much harder task than anticipated. You had resorted to pacing the floor, chewing on your nails as you wondered and worried about the boy who ignited a fire within your soul. You could only hope that he had made it there, followed through with his plan, and escaped his life of running and hiding.

Your windows were cracked open, letting the warm breeze whisk away the smoke of your cigarette as you sat on your window seal. Flicking the ashes out the window, your eyes look curiously at the outside world. You had fallen back into the habit of people-watching as boredom filled your life at the lack of visits from a certain delivery boy.

It was the sound of ringing that pulled you from your thoughts. Stabbing your cigarette into the ashtray, you glide toward the noise and place the phone to your ear, “Hello?”

It’s silent on the other side of the phone for just a moment before a familiar voice rings out, “Hi, this is Jason Slocumb Junior.”

You can’t ignore the jump of your heart at the boy's voice that you could admit you were already missing. Furrowing your eyebrows, you smile humorously at the boy before speaking, “Your name is Jason?”

Igby hummed on the other side of the phone, glancing toward Oliver, who was watching him make his half of the calls. Smiling sarcastically to ensure that his brother didn’t know he was calling you, the boy continued without answering your question, “I just called to inform you that Mimi Slocumb won’t be answering any further invitations because she’s dead.”

The Slocumb boy waited for your response, hoping that you’d be selfish and ask for him to return to get you before fleeing. All you had to do was say the words, even just suggest it, and he’d come to you. No questions asked. No hesitation. However, you smiled to yourself and spoke warmly, “Go ahead and let the light in, Igby. I’ll be seeing you.”

The two of you sit silently for a prolonged moment, the boy relishing in your voice and promise, feeling comfort for the first time in days. Closing his eyes briefly, the boy pretends you are beside him with your beautiful smile and encouraging nods. A ghosting smile crosses his features before he hangs up the phone, not wanting his brother to know he still has you to keep promises with.

From your kitchen, you’d listen to the static sound of the dial tone before placing the phone back down with a small smile. Even though so much of you wanted him to return, you felt joyous over the fact that the boy was finally free from everything he had spent so long running from. You knew that your words were true. You would be seeing him, just not as soon as you’d hoped.

The next time you heard from Igby, it came in the form of mail.

Your tutor had entered your apartment, books and notes in hand, along with the mail the doorman had handed her when she passed. Setting up your workspace, she gives you the pile of envelopes, magazines, and newspapers, allowing you a moment to sift through them boredly. However, your attention perks as your fingertips graze the side of a single piece of thin cardboard.

GREETINGS FROM CALIFORNIA! THE GOLDEN STATE.

Looking over your shoulder, you excuse yourself from the dining room to the comfort and isolation of your room. Sitting on your bed, you place the other worthless mail beside you and cling to the most valuable object. Running your fingers over the enlarged font, you take a deep breath before flipping it over. Your heart leaped at the familiar handwriting that was scribbled on the back. At the top, your name was written clearly and sincerely, just as Igby remembered you. The only thing written on it was a new address, as well as a plane messily drawn near the bottom with a note below it.

Until I can send the real thing. -Igby

Smiling at the written promise, you bring the small piece of him you had to your chest⸺hugging what meant the most to you close to your heart. Taking a deep breath, you stand from your bed and place the postcard on your vanity where you can always see it. It becomes clear that out of every expensive piece of furniture and knick-knacks you had, this twenty-five cent piece of cardboard held the most value.

That would continue to ring true, except as the months went on, Igby would continue to write to you. His letters filled with what life in California was like; he’d write of the sun and the warmth, but he’d never admit that it didn’t compare to the warmth you had offered him. It wasn’t even close. It would beg to be written, but it would never reach the paper, the boy fearing that his confession would confirm how much distance there was between you. So, instead, he’d settle with leaving constant reminders that he’d return to get you and help you escape your parents' isolated prison. Your letters would contain what the weather was like in New York, as well as telling the boy that Russel had taken to delivering the drugs himself. The drug dealer not wanting for you to be left alone⸺he couldn’t do that to the tragic muse of his work. You’d sign off every letter with the same promise of seeing him when the time came. Eighteen was closer than it seemed. It had to be. It was a reminder you would write to him in hopes of reassuring yourself.

However, the shared fear of you and Igby would come true. Your parents would decide that letting you go at eighteen isn’t what’s for the best. They would continue to hold you hostage in the apartment, now sending in professionals to prepare you to work for your family company one day. Your once promising letters turned to ones full of misery and doubt. Igby’s remained optimistic, even going as far as offering to return to New York and bring you back to California with him. He knew you wouldn’t do it because, as he had told you on the rooftop the last time you saw each other, your parents' claws were too deep in you. They were too embedded for you to remove them without fatality. Yet, he needed you to know that his promise would always remain. He’d always hold you and the unbroken promise sacred.

Years would pass, yet Igby’s letters never slowed, and you kept every single one of them. There were occasions when the two of you would call one another, but timezones and your parents' distractions caused them to come to a predictable decline. On your twentieth birthday, you broke your own heart⸺sending him a letter of apologies and regret. You felt as though you were holding the boy back from living his life fully. It wasn’t fair of you to make him wait for you. It wasn’t fair for him to be free yet still be tied down by someone who couldn’t share that experience with him. So you offered him an out, telling him that he didn’t need to check up on you or keep your promise because your devotion to your parents had been controlling you and remained unmoving.

In return, Igby sent you the shortest letter he had ever sent to you. There was no talk about California, its weather, its glowing sun, or the new activities he had clung to within the time he received your last letter. It was just a piece of paper with three sentences scribbled on it.

My life here will never be complete until you’re here with me. I’ll wait for the rest of my life if I have to. I know I’ll be seeing you again. -Igby

These three sentences would sit with you for nearly a year. The letter would remain with you at all times, serving as a reminder that even when you’ve given up on yourself, there was someone out there who loved you enough to wait a lifetime. You’d read it once, twice, even three times a day. Letting his words ignite a bright and burning fire in your soul. Finally, on a random Wednesday evening, the fire would burn away the leash that your parents had you locked in. You had saved more than enough money on your own to live comfortably for years and enough experience to find a job elsewhere. So without warning, without so much as a notice, you walked away from your family's company, returned to the familiar apartment, packed your things, grabbed every single letter and postcard Igby had sent you, and left this life of despair behind. Not feeling an ounce of loyalty to return or shame to cower away from this moment.

After almost twenty-one years of begging and pleading for love from your parents, you finally walked away and toward the golden affection and tenderness that awaited your arrival on the other side of the country.

Igby never stopped thinking about you, wishing upon shooting stars and fallen eyelashes that you’d one day have the courage to cut the ties of your enclosure. He’d imagined on countless nights that you would call him or send him a letter that revealed that you were finally free. His mind would only ease itself to sleep if it thought of the one night you had spent together all those years ago. The night where he momentarily forgot about your shared pain and instead found light within each other. It had been the best sleep of his life⸺his body tangled against your own in a blazing flush of adoration and tranquility.

In the morning, the Slocumb boy would check his voicemail for any missed calls from you and check his mailbox for any letters. When there were none, he’d resort to continuing on with his day, his thoughts lingering around what you were doing, where you were, and if you were okay.

Reading a book you had recommended to him, Igby tried to pass the time. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he read. The boy's attention was broken by a knock on his front door. Pushing himself off the couch, he places the book down and approaches the door with a swiftness in his step. Without peering through the peephole, the brunette opens the door and pauses at the sight before him.

Your body stood frozen before him, your eyes scanning his before taking in every feature. He had grown since you had last seen him; his face was more mature, and his body was not as awkward against his posture. His slouch had disappeared after all these years away from his family, no longer looking over his shoulder or running from shadows that lingered for too long.

His hazel eyes held onto a stunned shine, taking in every part of you. His tongue darted between his lips as he tried to decipher if this was real or if his imagination had finally seeped into reality. You had looked different, yet exactly the same. The sun circling around your body, causing your new freedom to radiate off you in waves.

After a prolonged moment of shocked silence, you smile and breathe out, “Hi.”

That smile, your smile, and that voice, your voice. It was real, it was right here in front of him, you were right here in front of him. The warmth that California couldn’t supply Igby came rushing through him in waves of love as your eyes locked, a grin growing on the boy's face before his hands grabbed the sides of your head, pulling you into a long-awaited kiss.

The two of you smile into it, unable to stop laughs of disbelief from breaking through the moment. After all this time, after all the distance⸺this was happening.

You were real. He was real. This moment was real.

Pulling back slightly, the boys' thumbs caressed your cheeks softly, the two of you looking at one another with tear-filled eyes. Unable to say anything, he pulled your lips back to his own. This time, there was no laughter, there was no smiling. There was passion, there was gentleness, there was warmth, there was comfort, and above all else, there was love.

The two of you would continue to live your lives together in harmony. Knowing that no matter where you were, as long as you were together⸺everything would be okay. You’d grow together, you’d fight together, and you’d love together. There were times of hardship and disagreements, but never doubt when it came to each other or your relationship. In moments of weakness, you would uplift one another, and in times of remembrance of your estranged families⸺you’d remind one another how much love there was between the two of you, and there was no limit on it. Your love for each other was unconditional.

For so long, you two had been labeled as difficult. Difficult to obtain, difficult to tolerate, difficult to love. They said you two were too sensitive, too much to handle, too emotional. It was the universal curse of sensitivity. However, as time continues and your love grows stronger with Igby, it becomes clearer. You were not difficult to obtain or tolerate. And you are not difficult to love.

Igby and you now knew that your sensitivity wasn’t a curse⸺not when it led to this. This happiness, this warmth, and this love that would grow forever and evermore.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

23 for any combination of geraskefer please? 💖

23. Cold feet warming each other up under the blanket

Geralt is nearly back to camp, holding a werewolf’s severed head in each hand, when Jaskier’s shriek cuts through the stillness of the night. Dropping the heads to the ground, Geralt starts to draw his sword, only pausing when Jaskier shrieks again and he notices that the sound is entirely lacking in fear.

“How are your feet so fucking cold?” the bard whines. “Ye gods, is your icy heart spreading to other parts of your body now?”

There’s only one person who brings out such dramatics in Jaskier. Jaskier was alone at camp when Geralt left to hunt the werewolves, but Yennefer must have portaled in to join him at some point. Too pleased to be truly annoyed by the shrieking—though he can't count how many times he's told Jaskier not to start screaming unless there's actual danger—Geralt retrieves the dropped heads.

“Yes, that’s exactly it.” Yennefer’s voice is quieter, but still audible to Geralt’s witcher hearing. “It has nothing to do with the fact that it’s almost winter.”

“Stop pressing them against me!”

“You’re warm.”

“Yes, and I’d like to stay that way, thank you. Is this your plan to finally do me in? Will Geralt return to find me blue-lipped and silent, frozen to a block of ice?”

“He should be so lucky.”

With a snort, Geralt resumes his trudge towards camp.

“I offer you the warmth of my body,” Jaskier says with the gravity of Lebioda facing his final martyrdom. “And in return, I’m treated like… ack, Yennefer, are you well? I don’t think feet are supposed to get that cold.”

“And I don’t think anyone is supposed to get so annoying, and yet here you are.”

“It’s an art that I take—Yennefer, your hands are worse! How are your hands worse? What sorcery is this?”

“I don’t know what you’re whining about.” Yennefer sounds smug. “I’m comfortable.”

“Dreadful, horrible, blood-sucking…”

Geralt clears the trees and finds the two of them curled together on Geralt and Jaskier’s pushed-together bedrolls, cocooned in enough blankets to keep a small village warm, even though the night is mild for being past Saovine. Despite his protests, Jaskier has Yennefer wrapped up in his arms, doing little to hide how pleased he is. From the musky scent in the air, they’ve been busy while Geralt was gone.

“Geralt!” Jaskier looks up at Geralt with beseeching eyes. “Oh, thank the gods, my savior. Yennefer is freezing me to death with her horrid paws. I’m seconds from expiring of hypothermia.”

“Hm. From the way you were shrieking, I thought another werewolf got you.”

“At least werewolves are warm and fuzzy.”

“You’re fuzzy enough for both of us, bardling,” Yennefer grumbles.

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

Geralt pats Roach’s neck—she, at least, is being quiet and well-behaved—and starts shucking off his armor. “Now you know how I feel all the times you decide to use me to warm your hands and feet, bard.”

Jaskier gasps. “But you have witcher body heat! Surely, you aren’t selfish enough to keep it to yourself.”

“I’ve been letting you use my body heat for twenty years, Jaskier. Doesn’t mean having your cold fucking feet against my legs feels good.”

Yennefer guffaws. “So you have cold feet and you snore, bardling. What a prize you are.”

“I do not snore!”

“You do,” Geralt and Yennefer say at the same time. To Yennefer, Geralt adds, “First time I shared a bedroll with him, I thought a grave hag had slipped into bed with me during the night when I woke up and felt his feet against my shins.”

“I can see how you could make that mistake,” she says.

Jaskier yowls in protest, wiggling away from her the best he can while wrapped from chin to toes in blankets. “Unhand me, you cold-hearted harpy! You can’t slander me and then use my body to warm the icy depths of your soul, you fiend.”

Shaking his head, Geralt slides onto the bedroll behind Jaskier, slipping under the blankets and putting his arm around Jaskier and Yennefer’s waists, pulling Jaskier flush against him. Jaskier gives a token grumble of protest, then melts back into him.

“Thank the gods,” Jaskier breathes. “Geralt, your witcher warmth saves the day again. Now I may not freeze to death during the night.”

“I’m going to portal you to an iceberg somewhere,” Yennefer says.

“I don’t think I’d notice the difference.”

“You both have fucking cold feet,” Geralt says. “Now go to sleep.”

He’s unsurprised to find four icy feet pressed against his shins and thighs.

“Hers are colder, right, Geralt?” Jaskier asks in a stage whisper.

“Maybe,” Geralt grumbles. “But she doesn’t snore.”

He drifts off to sleep to the familiar sound of Yennefer laughing while their bard squawks in outrage.

Twenty-four touches prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

[laughingjack17]

Why didn't you defend me...

Alastor x Femreader

nsfw. 18+

swearing

p-in-v

p-in-a

age gap (your older than alastor)

ownership

blowjob

unprotected sex

Note:They were in the streets of hell. The exterminating angels were close, attacking the demons mercilessly. Alastor and sirius were fighting against the exterminating angels, until one manages to severely wound Alastor with his lance.

After a while, Alastor was lying on a bed, while sirius took care of him, but he thought that he/she did not protect him from the exterminating angel because he/she hates him.

"What are you doing...?"He said in a cold and serious tone. she didn't reply, just cleaning his wounds. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to him "Don't ignore me." He said, his grip on her wrist tightened

she smacks his hand and cleans his wounds. He growled in pain when she smacked his hand, and he tried to grab her again "Stop it! I'm fine!" He yelled.

"Alastor Hartfelt!" She yelled. He raised an eyebrow when she said his full name "Yes?"

"get your fucking hands off me and let me clean your wounds"

He reluctantly released her wrist, but he continued to look at her with an annoyed expression. "told you not to go up there but did you listen? nope. now look" she scolds him.

He rolled his eyes "I don't need you to tell me what to do. I'm not a child"

"look who almost dead again"

He let out a scoff and tried to sit up, but he winced in pain as he did so "I'm not dead yet"

"lay down. and you're not dead yet because of me"

He grumbled and laid back down on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest "I'm not laying down because you told me to. I'm laying down because it hurts to sit up"

"stop being a baby" she bandages the wounds. He grumbled again, but he didn't protest as she bandaged his wounds. He watched her with a pout on his face, still annoyed "I'm not being a baby. I just don't like being told what to do"

"get fucking use to it. i own your soul"

He rolled his eyes once again, but deep down he knew she was right. He was her property, and he had to do as she said. "Yes, I remember" she sighs.

He looked at her, noticing her sigh "What?"

"you're gonna be the death me of Al"

He chuckled "You're being dramatic. I'm not that bad" she looks at him.

He looks back at her, a smirk on his face "You know you love me"

"do i love you? hmmmm"she makes a thinking face. He feigns offense, putting a hand on his chest "How could you not love me? I'm the most charming and handsome demon in hell"

she chuckles "yea i love you radio"

He smiles, satisfied with her response "That's more like it. I knew you couldn't resist my charms"

she rubs his ear. He lets out a soft moan, his ear twitching slightly at her touch. He closes his eyes and relaxes, enjoying the feeling of her rubbing his ear.

"pretty sounds dear"

He blushes slightly at her compliment, opening his eyes and looking at her with a playful glint in his eyes "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"want me to help you forget about the pain?" He nods, his expression turning more serious "Yes, please"

"we dont have pain killers but i think something else can help you"

He raises an eyebrow, curious about what she has in mind "And what might that be?"

"remember what we did when he got really hammered last week?"

He chuckles, remembering the night they had together when he was really drunk "Oh, I remember."

"and it got ride of my headache"

He smirks, a sly smile on his face "It definitely did. And it felt good."

"so, my turn to help you with your pains and aches"

He grins, his eyes gleaming with excitement "I won't say no to that"

she slowly undoes his pants while giving him a kiss. He returns the kiss, his body relaxing under her touch as she undoes his pants. He pulls her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. she cupped his face kissing him back. she sits on his waist, sucking on his tongue. He moans softly as she sucks on his tongue, his hands moving down to her hips, holding her in place. He breaks the kiss, panting slightly as he looks at her with a mix of desire and affection.

she licked his neck. He shudders as she licks his neck, tilting his head to give her better access. He runs his fingers through her hair, enjoying the sensation of her tongue on his skin. she removes his jacket and shirt. He helps her remove his jacket and shirt, his chest bare and exposed. He watches her with a hungry look in his eyes, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

she kissed his chest and bites it. He groans as she bites his chest, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. He runs his fingers through her hair again, pulling her closer to him. she works her way down. He closes his eyes, surrendering himself to the feeling of her lips and tongue on his body. His breath hitches as she moves lower, his anticipation growing with each passing moment.

she removed his pants slowly. He watches her intently as she removes his pants, his body now completely exposed to her. He looks at her with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, his heart racing in his chest. she pulls him out softly while removing his underwear. He gasps as she pulls him out, his body trembling slightly. He looks at her with a mix of surprise and pleasure, his eyes filled with lust.

she licked the tip. He lets out a low moan, his body arching slightly as she licks the tip. He reaches out and gently cups her face, his fingers tracing the contours of her jawline. she look at him, swirling her tongue around the tip. He looks back at her, his eyes locked on hers. He watches her swirl her tongue around the tip, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He runs his thumb over her bottom lip, his touch gentle and affectionate. she licked his thumb, He smiles slightly as she licks his thumb, his eyes filled with adoration. He moves his thumb down to her chin, gently tilting her head up to look at him.

she licked the vein underneath his lengh. He lets out a soft moan as she licks the vein underneath his length, his body shuddering with pleasure. He grips the sheets tightly, trying to control himself, but his body betrays him, craving more of her touch. she sits up takes off her kimono robe. He watches her as she takes off her kimono robe, his eyes roaming over her body hungrily. He reaches out and gently runs his fingers over her bare skin, his touch soft and reverent.

she leans back down, letting her saliva drop onto his shaft. He groans as her saliva drips onto his shaft, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine. He reaches down and runs his fingers through her hair, his touch gentle and encouraging. she rubs her saliva into him gently but with some force. He closes his eyes, relishing the sensation of her rubbing her saliva into him. He can feel her fingers moving against his skin, the pressure just enough to send waves of pleasure through his body.

she puts the tip into her mouth. He lets out a low moan as she puts the tip into her mouth, his body arching up towards her. He threads his fingers through her hair, gently guiding her movements. she sucked on him while giving him a handjob. He moans louder as she sucks and gives him a handjob, his body trembling with pleasure. He can feel himself getting closer to the edge, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

she moves her head down more, moving her hand taking fully down her throat. He watches her take him fully into her throat, his eyes widening in surprise and pleasure. He lets out a guttural moan, his body tensing up as he struggles to control himself. she sucks him off gently and slowly. but deep. He lets out a shaky breath, his body relaxing as she sucks him off gently and slowly, but deep. He runs his fingers through her hair again, his touch more affectionate than before.

"You're driving me crazy..."

she looks at him again picking up speed a bit. He looks back at her, his eyes filled with desire. He can feel her picking up speed, and he can't help but moan louder, his body responding to her every move.

"Please...don't stop..."

she moans against his shaft. He shudders at the feeling of her moaning against his shaft, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through his body. He tightens his grip on her hair, his breathing becoming more labored.

"Oh god...I'm so close..."

she picks up a little more speed. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, the speed of her movements driving him wild. He's panting now, his body tensing up in anticipation of his release.

"Please...please...I'm gonna..."

she takes his shaft deeper into her throat. the tip of her nose pressed against the base of him slightly. He gasps as she takes him deeper into her throat, the tip of her nose pressed against the base of him. He can feel himself hitting the back of her throat, and it's almost too much for him to handle.

"F-fuck...I can't...hold it anymore..."

she gently rubbed his thigh letting him know its ok for him cum now. He looks down at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and desire. He lets out a deep breath, his body trembling as he finally lets go. He cums hard, his release filling her mouth and throat. her eyes widen softly letting out a soft moan. He watches her swallow his release, his eyes locked on hers. He reaches down and gently strokes her cheek, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You're amazing..."

she takes him out of her mouth and shows him. He watches as she takes him out of her mouth, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of his release on her tongue. He can't help but feel a surge of possessiveness, a sense of ownership over her. He reaches out and pulls her closer to him, his voice low and commanding.

"Come here..."

she crawls up to inches away from his face, He looks into her eyes, his gaze intense and filled with desire. He cups her face in his hands, his touch gentle yet firm.

"You're mine...and only mine..."

He leans in and kisses her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth, tasting himself on her. she moans into the kiss, kissing him deeply. He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth hungrily. He pulls her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close. He breaks the kiss for a moment, panting heavily as he looks at her.

"I need you...I need you so badly..."

"alright baby, just remember you asked for this" she sits up, taking her bra offand moves her underwear to the side. she gives him a quick handjob than sinks him deep inside her. letting out a soft moan. He lets out a gasp as she sinks down onto him, his eyes widening in surprise and pleasure. He grips her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin.

"Oh god...yes...just like that..."

"so..big" she sinks him fully inside. now sitting on his waist. He groans as she takes him all the way in, the feeling of her tight around him driving him wild. He looks up at her, his eyes filled with lust and admiration.

"You're so tight...and perfect..."

she sits there, adjusting to his size. in the mean time she put his hands on her breasts. He takes her breasts in his hands, his fingers gently massaging them. He can feel her body adjusting to his size, and it makes him even more aroused. He lets out a low moan, his eyes fixed on her face.

"You feel so good...so perfect...I could stay like this forever..."

she blushes more, moaning to his messaging her breasts than she started moving a little bit. He watches her as she starts to move, his eyes glued to her body. He can feel her walls clenching around him as she moves, and it's driving him crazy. He grips her hips tighter, guiding her movements as she rides him.

"That's it...just like that...faster..."

she lets out soft whimpers and moans as she pickes up speed as he asked. He can't help but moan in response to her whimpers and moans. He's completely lost in the pleasure, his mind consumed by her. He starts to thrust upwards, meeting her movements and driving himself deeper inside her.

"God, you're so beautiful...and so good at this..."

"ngh~ fuck baby" she puts her hands on his thighs looking down watching him disappear inside her. He watches as she looks down, watching him disappear inside her. The sight is incredibly erotic, and it makes him even more turned on. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, his breathing becoming more ragged and heavy.

"I'm so close...I'm gonna come..."

she a bit older than him so it takes her longer to cum. she looks at him like he's gonna have to wait for a little bit. but she did pick up the pact. He notices that she's taking longer to cum, and he can see the look in her eyes that tells him he'll have to wait. He tries to hold back, but it's getting harder and harder as she picks up the pace.

"Please...I can't hold on much longer...I need to come..."

"you can cum baby..you can cum.."

He lets out a deep, guttural moan as she gives him permission to cum. He grips her hips tightly, his body tensing up as he finally reaches his release. He shudders as he comes inside her, his body shaking with pleasure. her eyes widen letting out a whimper. but she rode him out of his orgasm.

He gasps as she continues to ride him, his body oversensitive and twitching with pleasure. He looks up at her with a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction.

"Oh...my god...that was...amazing..."

"need you...to fuck ...me..mmm...please.."

He grins, a devilish glint in his eyes. He flips them over so that he's on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head.

"You want me to fuck you, huh? You're so needy..."

"yes please daddy.." she wraps her legs around his waist, she still had him stuffed deep inside her. He chuckles at her words, enjoying the feeling of her legs wrapped around him. He leans down to whisper in her ear, his voice low and seductive.

"You're such a good girl...begging for me like that..."

"deeper please daddy..want every inch of you inside me.."

He smirks, his ego inflating at her words. He pushes deeper inside her, filling her completely.

"Like this, baby? Is this what you want?"

"ha-aaah!.. yes yes" she pushes her head into the pillow. He starts to move, thrusting into her with a steady rhythm. He leans down to kiss her neck, his lips trailing along her skin.

"You feel so good, baby...so tight and wet..."

"oh fuck..."her body moves with his thrusts. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful. He bites down on her neck, leaving a mark.

"You're mine, baby...all mine..."

"im your daddy!...fuuuck that feels fucking amazing..." she squeezes him with her thighs. He groans as she squeezes him with her thighs, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine.

"Damn right, you're mine...you belong to me..."

"fuck me baby...fuck me up...cock feels so good deep inside...."

He growls, his pace becoming even more intense.

"You want me to fuck you up, baby? You want me to ruin you?"

"yes daddy, wanna be cockdrunk off you.." she looks at him. He grins, his eyes filled with desire.

"You're such a naughty girl, baby...I'm going to make sure you're cockdrunk on me..."

"yes yes yes hell yes, wanna be cockdrunk off you.."she looks at him. He grins, his eyes filled with desire.

her eyes roll to the back of her head as he hit her G-Spot. He notices her reaction and knows he's hit her G-spot.

"Oh, did I hit the right spot, baby? Do you like it when I hit you there?"

"uh-huh..yes baby..yes keep fucking me like that.." she grabs onto his shoulders. He grabs her hips, holding her in place as he continues to thrust into her, hitting her G-spot over and over again.

"I'm going to make you scream my name, baby..."

she lets out choked out moans, drooling and tears rolling down from the corner of her eyes. He watches her, loving the sight of her completely undone beneath him. He leans down to kiss her tears away, his movements becoming more erratic.

"You look so beautiful like this, baby...so wrecked and desperate for me..."

her walls tightened around him as she stared seeing stars. her toses curling and her nails digging deep into his skin. He feels her walls tighten around him, and he lets out a deep groan. He leans his forehead against hers, panting heavily.

"Fuck...you're squeezing me so tight, baby...I'm not going to last much longer..."

"im..gonna..gonna cum daddy.." she pants and gasps for air.

He quickens his pace, his movements becoming more urgent.

"Cum for me, baby...let go...I want to feel you cum on my cock..."

"ha-ha-aah...cumming im cumming!" her cum milked his cum. He feels her cum around him, and it sends him over the edge. He groans loudly as he reaches his climax, filling her up with his seed.

"Oh, god...yes...take it all, baby..."

gasps for air again "alastorrrrr!"

He collapses on top of her, panting heavily. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close to him.

"You okay, baby? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

she shakes her head weakly "no baby you didnt hurt...that felt so amazing though"

He smiles, gently caressing her hair.

"Good...I'm glad you enjoyed it, baby. I don't want to hurt you...but you looked so beautiful when you came, I couldn't control myself..."

"wanna try another position? cause im not done with you?"

He chuckles, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Oh, really? You want more, baby? You're insatiable..."

"kinda wanna try doggy with you. we never done that one"

He grins, a sly smile on his face.

"Doggy, huh? I like the sound of that...I'll take you from behind, baby..."

"still inside?" she looks down. He chuckles again, nodding his head.

"Of course, baby. I'm not going to pull out..."

"good" she gets into position. He gets behind her, running his hands over her curves.

"God, you look so sexy like this, baby..."

she giggles. He positions himself behind her, and slowly pushes himself back inside her, groaning as he does so.

"Oh, god...you feel so good..."

"m-mmm~" she grips the pillow a bit. He grabs her hips, holding her firmly in place as he begins to thrust into her, each movement becoming more forceful and urgent.

"You like that, baby? You like it when I take you from behind like this?"

"y-yess..."she squeaked a bit, biting the pillow and gripping it too. He grins, loving the sound of her moans and squeaks.

"You're so cute when you squeak like that, baby...it's driving me crazy..."

"keep..fuck me like that baby...gonna drive me off the..ha-aah...the wall...ngh..."

He increases the pace of his thrusts, his grip on her hips tightening as he does so.

"I'll drive you off the wall, baby...I'll make you scream my name until you can't take it anymore..."

she grips her hair, stuffing her face into the pillow moaning endlessly. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as he continues to thrust into her, his breath hot against her ear.

"Let me hear you, baby...don't hold back...I want to hear you scream..."

she lefts her head up enough for him to hear her sound "oh god..deeper baby..deeper"

He smirks, feeling her body tremble beneath him.

"Deeper, huh? You want me to go deeper, baby? I'll give you what you want..."

"yes daddy, want it stuffed deep..."she hugged the pillow and grinding it tightly. He chuckles at her words, loving the way she calls him daddy.

"Such a naughty girl...I'll stuff you deep, baby..."

her eyes roll back again feeling him rubbing past her G-Spot to her A-Spot. she moans loudly and uncontrollably. He feels her body shudder as he rubs against her G-Spot, her moans filling the room and driving him wild.

"God, baby...you're so sensitive...I love the way you react to me..."

"fuck..cant..take it..but dont want you to stop...dont stop alastor...fuck me hard.."

He grins, his pace becoming more relentless and forceful.

"You want me to fuck you hard, baby? You want me to make you scream my name until you can't walk straight? I'll give you everything you want...I'll make you mine..."

"oh my god..im yours baby..im yours..."she grows louder and louder with every thrust. He groans, his own pleasure building as he listens to her moans and declarations of ownership.

"That's right, baby...you're mine...you belong to me...and I'm never letting you go..."

"alastor!.."she gasps for air as he hit her womb entrance. He lets out a low growl as he feels himself hit her womb entrance, the sensation driving him even wilder.

"You feel that, baby? That's me hitting your womb...I'm so deep inside you..."

"so deep...so fucking deep..you like being so deeply inside me dont you.. "she knits at the pillow. He lets out a low chuckle, his voice filled with desire.

"Of course I do, baby...I love being inside you...feeling your body wrapped around me...I love the way you take me so well..."

his cock rubs all the right spot. the tears roll down from the corner of her eyes, biting the pillow again.

He notices the tears rolling down her cheeks, and he slows down his pace slightly, his voice filled with concern.

"Baby, are you okay? You're crying...are you in pain?"

"tears of pleasure"

He smiles, realizing that the tears are not from pain, but from intense pleasure.

"Oh, tears of pleasure...I see. You're enjoying this so much, baby...I love seeing you like this...so lost in the moment..."

"s-stay gentle like this for a moment baby..let me feel your whole cock..."

He nods, understanding her request and slowing down his pace even more. He gently pushes his cock all the way inside her, feeling her walls tighten around him.

"Like this, baby? You want me to stay gentle and let you feel every inch of me?"

"fuuck yea baby, just like that..feels so good..hitting all the right areas.."

He continues to move slowly and gently, his eyes locked on her face as he watches her reactions. He reaches out and caresses her cheek, his voice filled with tenderness.

"You feel so good around me, baby...I love making you feel good...I want to make you feel nothing but pleasure..."

she smiles and closes her eyes. letting out soft moans and whispers. He leans down and whispers in her ear, his voice low and seductive.

"You're so beautiful like this, baby...I love seeing you like this...so relaxed and at peace...just feeling the pleasure..."

her walls start clenching on his again "Alastor..im gonna cum again..."

He feels her walls clenching around him again, and he can't help but smirk.

"Again, baby? You're so sensitive...I love it when you cum for me...let go, baby...let it all out..."

she cum pools out again, milking his cock again. "alastor..."

He groans as she cums again, feeling her juices coat his cock. He starts to pick up the pace again, unable to hold back his own pleasure.

"God, you're so wet...you're driving me crazy, baby...I'm so close..."

her mind went blank. completely cockdrunk on him. He notices her mind going blank, and he smiles smugly, knowing that he's completely overwhelmed her with pleasure.

"That's it, baby...let yourself go...you're so lost in the pleasure, aren't you? You're just a cockdrunk mess right now..."

she stick her tongue out, her own drool rolling off her tongue while she crossed her eyes. He chuckles as he sees her tongue out and her eyes crossed, clearly in a state of ecstasy.

"Oh, you're so cute like this, baby...you look so cute when you're completely cockdrunk and drooling all over yourself..."

her walls were clenching around him tightly again, her pussy getting overly sensitive making her whimper. He groans as her walls clench around him again, and he feels her getting overly sensitive.

"Baby, are you okay? You're getting so sensitive...it must be overwhelming for you..."

she nods "im fine baby. just keep fucking me until you cum.." He nods, understanding that she wants him to keep going until he cums.

"Alright, baby...I'll keep going until I cum...just hang in there, okay?"

she nods. she can feel every twitch and throb his cock makes. making her arch her back a bit. He continues to thrust into her, his cock throbbing inside her with every movement. He notices her arching her back and he can't help but smirk.

"You're so sensitive...I can feel every little movement I make...it's driving me crazy..."

"baby..."she buries her face into the pillow her body goes at its limits but another orgasm was ripped out of her milking his cock.

He feels her bury her face into the pillow as another orgasm rips through her body, and he feels her body go limp beneath him.

"God, baby...you just came again...you're so amazing..."

she gasped a little bit turning into a moaning cockdrunk mess speakinh none sense. He watches her gasp and moan, completely incoherent and cockdrunk. He slows down his pace, giving her a moment to recover.

"Are you alright, baby? Can you still take more?"

"i can take you just as much as you can take me. no matter the position or hole your fucking"

He chuckles, impressed by her determination and eagerness.

"Is that so? Well, in that case..."

He pulls out of her and moves her onto her hands and knees.

"Let's see how well you can take me in this position."

"baby we were already in doggy" she chuckles. He laughs along with her.

"You're right, we were...but I want to see you like this. You look so beautiful on your hands and knees, baby."

"as long as you're fucking me i don't mind what position im in"

He runs his hands over her body, admiring her curves and soft skin.

"Oh, I know you don't mind, baby...I'll fuck you in any position you want, as long as I get to feel your body against mine."

"gonna destroy the same place or a different one?"

He leans down and whispers in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

"I think I'll go for a different place this time, baby. Something a little more exciting."

"you might need the lubricant then love"

He chuckles again, reaching for the lube.

"You're right, I probably do. Can't have my baby girl getting hurt, now can I?"

she helps him put some on. He takes the lube from her and applies it generously, making sure it's all spread evenly.

"Thank you, baby. I'm ready now. Are you ready for me to continue?"

"im ready as you are my love"

He positions himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

"Good. Just relax and let me take care of you."

she nods, relaxing her body. He slowly pushes into her, his cock sliding into her with ease due to the lube.

"That's it, baby...just like that..."

"mmmm...." she grips the blanket. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and steady at first, but gradually increasing in pace.

"God, you feel so good, baby..."

she grips the blanket more, moaning softly. He notices her grip on the blanket and smiles.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? You like it when I take control like this."

"uh-huh...mhm baby..fuck..."she's never done anal before so this a completely new for her. He can tell that she's never done this before and he slows down his pace slightly, being careful not to hurt her.

"Are you okay, baby? Does it hurt?"

"its just gonna take me a minute to adjust to your size baby its alright"

He nods, continuing to move slowly.

"Take all the time you need, baby. I don't want to hurt you. Just let me know when you're ready for me to go faster."

"i will baby..." she whimpers softly but she smiles to the feeling

He smiles back at her, his heart warming at the sight of her smile. He continues to move slowly, gently massaging her hips with his hands to help her relax.

"You're doing so well, baby. Just breathe and enjoy the feeling."

she new she was ready for him to pick up his pact when he was sliding in easier "go ahead baby..."

He picks up his pace, thrusting into her with more force now that she's adjusted.

"That's it, baby. Just like that. You're taking me so well."

she lets out a shaky breath "feels...so good...."

He leans down and whispers in her ear.

"You're so tight, baby. It feels amazing. You're doing such a good job for me."

she can feel her arms about to give out, she leans down pushing her breasts into the mattress and grips the blankets. He notices her arms giving out and grins, seeing her in this position.

"Look at you, baby. All bent over and at my mercy. You're so beautiful like this."

"just..fuck me please Papí..." He growls, hearing her call him "Papí". He loves it when she calls him that.

"As you wish, baby. I'll give you what you want."

she grips the blankets more letting out sharp breaths of pleasure. He grips her hips tighter, his pace increasing even more as he pounds into her from behind. He can feel himself getting closer to his climax, but he's determined to make her cum first.

"You're so close, baby. I can feel it. Just let go for me, I want to see you come undone."

she lets out a shaky moan, body trembling as her cum surrounds his cock. He groans as he feels her cum, the feeling pushing him over the edge as well. He lets out a deep, guttural moan as he reaches his own climax, spilling his seed inside her.

"Fuck, baby. That was amazing. You're amazing."

she moans his name, softly and sweetly. resting her head gently on the mattress. He gently pulls out of her and lays down next to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him.

"You did so well, baby. You were so good for me. I love you."

"i love you too..." she snuggled close to him

He kisses her forehead and holds her tightly, feeling content and satisfied.

"You know, you really surprised me with that anal thing. I didn't know you were into that."

"i didnt know i was too, we're definitely doing that again"

He chuckles and smiles at her.

"Oh, we will. I'll make sure of it. And I'll make sure to give you even more pleasure next time."

she smiles and kisses him softly. He kisses her back, pulling her closer to his body. And they stayed like that for who knows how long.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

[honeeslust]

Mahito | I’m your boyfriend now

18+ only

🖤 TW: non con, blood, death!!

🖤 WC: +1k

🖤 I see y’all whispering about him and since shes a lil demented…

🖤 Scenario: Mahito finds you lonely and stranded in the train car during in shibuya.

Rushed and sloppy, I had a bad day, 👉🏾👈🏾

“ Oh what’s this?” A tall pale stranger with a model's face comes toward you. His shirtless physique dripping with blood, his salaciously long tongue licked the corner of his mouth as he stooped to your eye level. “ you’re a cute one what’s your name?” He asked, extending his hand. “ I’m y/n.” You smiled sweetly hoping he wouldn’t add you to the rest of the scattered bodies lying around you. Hesitantly you reached for his hand. Excited by your nervous shy smile, he beams at you, that lewd tongue slipping out over his lips. “ Were you here alone?” He asked helping you to your feet. “ No, I was with my boyfriend.” “ oh, is he here with us now?” He boasted gesturing to the carnage at his feet. “ no, he ran off and left me.” You said playing with the hem of your skirt. “ aww, that’s too bad. Tell you what. I’ll be your boyfriend.” You were confused and offended. “ I don’t know you.” You spat crossing your arms. He looked back and forth dramatically “uhh, what’s your point?” “ My point is, I don’t know you. You can’t just be my boyfriend.”

“ Oh but I can,” you watched in shock and horror as he shifted his form trying on a few faces of the men that you recognized lying on the floor of the train car. “Stop, that’s so distasteful.” This makes him laugh. “Distasteful?, you’re funny, I like you.” He smiled a smile that wasn’t his as he moved toward you. He reached for the hem of your shirt, tugging lightly “ I’m your boyfriend now, which means I get to have you“ Have me?” You blushed, alone, afraid, and aroused. His breath fanned your neck making your body shiver delightfully. Every little pulse of your heartbeat could now be felt between your legs that you clenched shut trying to simmer your purring kitten. He noticed this and took a stray tendril of your hair around his finger. “ I’m kind of nervous too, this being our first date and all.” He leaned in close and the itchy bearded face of whomever's poor soul brushed against your face. causing you to flinch. “ wait,” you said gently, hoping not to unsettle him. “ I-, I think I’d prefer your actual face please.” “ Well then,” he smiles and snaps his fingers. You shudder watching the rippling flesh as it warped with bone and muscle grotesquely shifting places inside his body. Settling into his original form, he grabbed for you. “ No, sir- please I can’t.” You sobbed helplessly letting the stranger feel you up. So indecent he was. Tearing your top down so your pretty tits could bounce free. All you’d done is smile at him and the patch faced entity was serious about being your boyfriend so he could have his way with you. He smacked his perfect lips together “Aww but please, you’re just scared, just give me a chance … and call me Mahito, sir seems so formal, yeah?” “ sir.. erm I mean Mahito, this is my point, I’ve only just learned your name, so you can’t be my boyfriend. ok.” He stood, cocking his head to the side. His bubbly energy starting to seem more sinister. “ well, no big deal, this would be uh, what do your humans call it, ahh!” He snaps his fingers. “ casual, ! we’ll keep it casual.” Soon again, lips were dotting your neck with kisses but when grabbed your tits, he grew meaner, sucking them into his mouth roughly, making you yelp and grasp for his shoulders but your hands were received easily and pushed aside so he could continue his work. You flinched again. His skilled tongue was too enjoyable. It was wrong to want more of it slithering all over you. “ Mahito” you whispered closing your legs again “Sir—ah- Mahito please.” “ oh, don’t interrupt me sweetheart , I was just getting to the good part.” He comes up from your navel, pouty blushed lips glistening from sucking all over your skin. “ you know it’srude to talk with your mouthful.” He said pushing you to the wall and taking your thigh into his grasp to hoist it over his shoulder. The devilish grin makes you close your hands over your now bare pussy. His laughter was hot between your legs, fanning the wetness that leaked out of you. “ hold still sweetheart.” Before you could speak he entered you with wicked fingers. Long and lithe as they pushed in deep, “ohhhh,” he giggled like a kid in a candy store. You were trembling, feeling how well your clenching walls accepted strangers' digits. He pulsed up into that delicate center until you were dripping down his arms. If this were your boyfriend, that would’ve been it, so when he slipped that sinfully long tongue through your folds, you yelped. “ bet your boyfriend couldn’t do that could he?” As he taunted you, his fingers were behaving in such crude ways, some plucking harshly at your nipples making you squirm trying to cover yourself as you vaguely recalled where you were. The other employed his cursed fingers, transfiguring them to worm their way deep inside your other entrance. Your first instinct was to cover your mouth to hide the shameful sound of pleasure that was being forced upon you. Much as you tried though, your eyes rolled skyward as you leaned back on the wall, legs wide open as you tug at his soft ponytail.

“ Mah - mah - Mahito” you sputtered as you began to ride his face. “ does this ahhhh- mean you won’t kill me.” He smirked with a mouthful of your overflowing cunt. “ who said anything about not killing you?” You froze, the hair on your neck standing up. “ ah well, the jigs up” “ Wha—.” You were cut off by him kissing away the tear that dropped from your lashes onto your cheek. He moved to your lips pushing his disgusting greedy appendage between your lips forcing you to open. Once inside, he caressed your face before pulling away. “ you were fun, thanks.” He smiles revealing a dazzling set of teeth. Awkwardly you shuffled trying to fix your clothes when your throat began to tighten. Your eyes grew wide with terror as you felt the growing orb in your throat tearing its way out violently. He laughed shielding his face from the blast. Tasting your blood on his lips he smiled. “ yummy.”

From the blood room 🩸

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

I have two requests for Astarion, but one could be triggering for some (like me unfortunately) but the other request is how would Astarion be with a plus size partner? Could be fluff or sexully which ever one you choose

I can 100% can write this! As a plus-size person myself, I do hope that the fics I've rewritten so far are able to let anyone of any size or skin color be pictured as tav! ♡

protect yourself if it triggers you! Safety first loves!

Rated: Explicit

Warning: dubcon, dark ending Astarion

Within the temple of Kanchelsis, the God of the vampires. Not many vampires are religious types, they are predators who seek to feast and dominate. The last thing most vampires would do is answer or pray to a God. Yet, this group, a clan, keeps to the old ways before the second sundering. Your master was one of them, the Lord to an old clan— Ancient.

In this underground castle, the insane design of it being upside down within the Abyss. You had… No idea where he had kidnapped and trapped you!

You don't even know how you escaped.

The altar is the statue of a large humanoid bat creature with glowing red eyes, a pool of blood that branches out around the room, red mist as if the blood is boiling. There is comfort like in the Shadowfell when the burdens of regrets and loss are stripped from one's soul. 

Though only Astarion can say this place is as normal as a vampire domain goes, more dramatic in the architecture with suck lighting.

You stand before the altar, dressed in a white robe with a mask over your face hiding everything but your glossed-over eyes.

Kanchelsis called you upon the death of Cazador and Astarion's ascension. You, the first child of a vampire with the gift of the beast.

The hunger he felt was nothing compared to the ravaging bloodthirsty beast caged within.

"Welcome child of Szarr," Your arms wide open in greeting, "The first to ascend! How joyous to meet you in your newly accomplished flesh." The voice echoes as your movements match the expression, of glee.

"If you had wanted to see me so bad," His eyes were on your form. If this was a different situation he could spend months appreciating how the white is thin enough to see your body but thick enough to hide the fun bits. It sticks around your shapely form he knows like the back of his own hands.

"Yes, this is why I have chosen this prize," The chuckle is twisted, "This one gifted to be one to restore my hold on your world. The beast has slept for too long. It hungers, you will hold its leash."

"Now why would I do that? No offense but last time we dealt with gods they all were disappointing."

"Because little rat," Hissing out the words, "You wish to conquer the world. To rule the night and day, to dominate all beings both living and dead." Your body moves, levitating above the pool of blood before standing before Astarion. "And I want this for you. You who have completed the rites between master and slave! It has been so long since there has been a true vampire lord to walk your realm." Your hands touch his face, "Fate has decreed you to be my emissary."

The touch makes him feel warmth, not warmth of love but desire.

Kanchelsis is also the deity of debauchery.

"Cast a fog over Baldur's Gate for our children. None shall fear the night they are destined to roam– Under your rule."

Kanchelsis' power is oppressive, a presence Astarion has not felt since killing Cazador.

"They are to be yours, my child of the beast. Your spawn and kindred." Hands going to your chest to part your robes, "Consort and the succor to return my pets."

His fangs hurt, seeing the skin he has tasted and gripped, his hand grabs your shoulders with fingers ready to rip the fabric of this robe and take you.

"Couple within my temple. Rid them of the foul blessing of Lathander on them!" Anger, "Astarion, Vampire Ascendant, Emissary of Kanchelsis." A whisper of pleasure. "Cleanse them and go forth with my child."

Domination and defilement.

There is an ancient rite that grants the gift without needing a vampire. After, the individual will be made to drink from the pool of blood and Kanchelsis will gift the new kindred with a clan. Beast and Enchanter.

Your master performed a similar rite but he only drained you of blood, which only gave you part of Kanchelsis' gift. Tainted enough but not enough to stop Lathander from blessing you.

Kanchelsis will not stand for it! Especially when he has claimed to Astarion to be his Emissary, and with you as his consort: your task is to return the beasts of the sanguine hunger to this realm.

Within the temple, Astarion lays with you. He only touches you when Kanchelsis has released its hold over you,  you panic and freak out over what Kanchelsis plans. It's madness! However, you forgot it is the same goal as Astarion.

He has not changed for the better after the ritual, after freeing the world of the Elder Brain, he is hungry in a new way.

There in this temple, you are once more stripped of what is felt of your choice.

The love Astarion tells you does not help the pain you have ripping into your soul. The sex high drives you further into the maw of the beast, and further you fall from light– Yanked down by your dear beloved.

Betrayal. Why are you surprised? Your master did the same.

Marveled by your figure, the way he could grip every soft plush part of you, the way your cheeks puffed up when you pouted. He consumed a portion of you and now Astarion devours the rest both the parts you replaced and the other parts left over.

[one-piece-one-shots]

Sabo X CisFem Reader - Song fic

"How could you do this to me Marco?" You whined clutching the entertainment schedule.

"Do what to you yoi?" The blond asked calmly not looking up from his phone.

"This!" You waved the crumpled paper, "You have me performing tonight."

"So?" Another calm response.

"It's Tuesday... I don't do Tuesdays."

"Is it the Sabo thing yoi?" He asked finally glancing up to watch you flush wildly.

"N-no. Shut up." You dropped the schedule.

"Look, Kid's band canceled because they got a better gig. And honestly, you're much better than them yoi." He stood, "Sabo would have heard you sooner or later anyway. Now get out of my office."

You dramatically dropped your arms at your sides and turned to make your exit.

The stage was one of the few sacred places you had to escape your anxiety and self-loathing. You could bare your soul in the lyrics of a song. Most of the time you couldn't see passed the bright lights pointed at you so it didn't matter if people stared. Being the center of attention up there was better than being invisible off stage with everyone else.

Since puberty, your weight yo-yoed, which resulted in teasing and lots of left-handed compliments. Not to mention someone always being concerned for your health. You were always one of the guys because you were 'so funny' and had such a great personality. They always wondered why they couldn't find a girl like you.

When you got up to sing you shocked everyone. Such a smooth sultry alto tone emitting from a portly girl. It was as if people believed only thin people could have a flashy talent. You always felt like you were sticking it to them somehow, proving they were wrong.

Straight out of high school you fronted a band only to be kicked out because the boys felt no one would come to a show where a girl like you was leading. Since then you taught yourself to play guitar and frequented open mics all over The East Blue until Thatch and Marco found you.

The brothers owned a pub called The Blue Bird that featured live local performances, and the performers were also the staff. You had a weekly waiting and entertainment schedule. You'd made a deal with Marco to not put you on stage Tuesday nights when his younger brother Sabo worked. You harbored a ridiculous crush for the younger blond and refused to sing in front of him. Your stage nights happened to be his nights off.

"F/N?" Sabo called making his way across the room.

"What's up?" you shook your head and flushed making eye contact with his hazel gaze.

"Everything ok? I saw you're playing tonight!" he nudged your shoulder as he came to stand next to you, "Nervous?"

"Me? Never." you smirked hoping he couldn't see through your false bravado, "You should be nervous. I'm gonna show you boys how it's done."

"Oh, well then, I'm glad Ace and I don't play tonight. It would suck to be shown up." he played along, "I'm glad I get to see you play for the first time."

"Yeah," you rubbed your nape, "I guess you haven't been here my nights."

Little did you know, Sabo had been to every one of your performances. He, Ace, Thatch, Marco and the youngest Luffy are all brothers, adopted by Edward Newgate. The open mic night when the two eldest discovered you had been recorded and played for all of the brothers to make the decision to offer you a job. From that very moment he knew he needed to get closer to you and offered to do all of your training.

He was so calm and polite, unlike the other Newgate boys. You also had great banter, he just seemed to get you. If you made an off-putting joke or downed yourself in any way he was always there to stop you and somehow spin them into positive traits.

He tried countless times to get you to play with he and Ace or to even get you to practice with them, but you always refused. So, he snuck into the crowd whenever you sang just to get his fix.

Marco was the only person aware of your nerves and insecurities where Sabo was concerned, he was also the only one who knew Sabo's addiction to you. He moved Kid's band's gig just to see what might happen.

You forced your gaze down trying to swallow and remedy the dryness in your mouth. Knots twisted their way through your stomach just thinking about your performance time approaching.

"F/N~" Ace sang squeezing his way between you and his brother, "Are you nervous? I hear someone you're crushing on is here."

You dropped the ketchup bottle you were already struggling to fill, "W-hat? Who said that?"

"Marco told me." the raven laughed wiping up your mess.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about." you scoffed.

"That reaction says otherwise." Ace continued to tease.

"Go away." you swatted at him.

"Ok ok - geez!" he whined backing out of your reach.

Sabo had stood quietly gauging your reaction, his stomach dropping with the shade of red staining your cheeks. Of course, you had someone you liked he just wanted so badly for it to be him.

"I didn't know you had a crush on someone." the blond commented feeling a little bitter.

"It's hopeless." you should sighed.

"What makes it hopeless?"

You glanced up at him briefly, "I mean, nobody wants this."

"F/N, any guy would seriously be lucky to have you." he soothed, "You're intelligent, incredibly talented and - "

"Have a charming personality, but I'm a buddy, one of the guys, a sister." you interrupted.

Sabo frowned, "Ah..no I - "

"F/N!" Marco called rounding the corner from the main room, "Time to get your guitar yoi."

The younger blond let out a frustrated growl.

"Sorry Sabo." you gave a diminutive smile running your hand down his arm before following Marco to the door.

"Break a leg!" he called after you.

After changing and touching up your makeup you stood in the wings of the stage waiting to be announced. This was the worst. You didn't want him to see you sing because of how vulnerable it felt to have all of your feelings laid out around you. Seeing him made you nervous in a normal setting, having to play knowing that beautiful man was somewhere in the room was damn near crippling.

"We have a special set tonight...she's one of our favorites, please give it up for F/N." Thatch introduced you and exited the opposite side of the stage as you took a deep breath and approached the microphone.

Plucking your Epiphone from its stand, you slung it across your torso and leaned toward the mic, "Thank you all for coming," You cleared your throat, "it'll be a short set tonight because I didn't know I was performing. Tables 18 and 24, I'll have your drinks out when I'm done." the small crowd chuckled as you winked and strummed the teal semi-hallow.

"I don't want to talk about it to you

I'm not an open book that you can rifle through

The cold hard truth that you'll see right to

I'm just a basket case without you

He's not a magic man or a perfect fit

But had a steady hand and I got used to it

And a glass cage heart and invited me in

And now I'm just a basket case without him."

This was a song Sabo hadn't heard before. He stopped wiping down the bar and found himself drifting through the crowd.

"You're begging for the truth

So I'm saying it to you"

You searched the front of the crowd nervously through the stage lights, unexpectedly feeling your nerves melt as you met his hazel gaze.

"I've been saving your place

And what good does it do?

Now I'm just a basket case

Now I'm just a basket case

I don't say much and it'll stay that way

You got a steel train touch and I'm just a track you lay

So I'll stay right here underneath you

I'm just a basket case that's what we do."

You felt a surge of confidence watching a wide smile play upon his lips.

"Won't somebody come on in and tug at my seams?

Oh, send your armies in of robbers and thieves

To steal the state I'm in, I don't want it anymore

You're begging for the truth

So I'm saying it to you

I've been saving your place

And what good does it do?

Now I'm just a basket case"

Fading into the end of the song you realized you hadn't broken eye contact with Sabo. Flushing madly, you tugged at your blouse and averted your gaze back to the cheering crowd.

You played longer than you'd planned with encouragement from Marco and the crowd, which grew the longer you were on stage. An hour later you finally thanked everyone for coming and glanced down to see the empty space Sabo had left. A small frown tugged at your lips while you reminded yourself that he was actually supposed to be working the entire time.

Thatch crossed the stage handing you a hand towel and a bottle of water on his way to announce Luffy's band. Toweling the sweat from your brow and neck you took a seat on the steps backstage getting high fives from The Straw Hats as they passed instruments in hand.

"Uh hey." Sabo voiced sheepishly, approaching as boisterous noises erupted from the stage behind you.

"Hey." You nearly had to shout.

"Can - uh - we talk in a quieter place?" the blond asked offering you a hand.

Heat invaded your face," S-sure."

Your mind completely blanked while Sabo guided you to the breakroom shutting the door behind you. He seemed tense and nervous, making you feel like you might've done something wrong. Maybe you made too much eye contact and he felt like you were singing to him? Were you? Probably, thinking back on it.

Damnit. You knew it was a bad idea to perform while he was there.

"I uh - I know you have someone you like," He started, eyes darting around the room while you tried to distract yourself by putting your guitar away.

"Ah, no what Ace was saying earlier," you murmured, "you can ignore it."

"Good." He breathed sounding relieved.

Good?

"What?"

Sabo's face, neck, and ears began turning shades of red and pink as he kept his eyes fixed on your fidgeting hands.

"The thing is...I've seen you sing before. Actually, every time." He rubbed his nape, "Marco showed us all the video from when he found you and..." he trailed off losing his words while your heart began to race.

"Sabo?" you whispered after a few seconds causing his eyes to snap up to your beautiful heart shaped face.

"You know all that stuff you say about yourself - it isn't true. Y-you're amazing F/N." he moved forward closing in the space between you, "It isn't just your voice or your face or that you're smarter and funnier than all of us."

You stared up at him, caught in the unbelievable surge of emotions flooding your senses. The world around you fell away as he gently tapped his forehead on yours.

"It's you." you blurted, "Th-the crush... I mean."

"Good." He chuckled placing a chaste kiss on your nose, "I really like you. All of you."

Song - Basket Case - Sara Bareilles

[leahxxc3]

SERAPHIC- a neteyam series

part 1= Trepidation

part 2= Seraphic

part 3= ….

part 4= ….

After a while of walking, you and Neteyam ended up in a less crowded part of the forest.

Nothing but the soothing sound of nature surrounded you and you wondered if your baby would appreciate it just as much.

For some reason, you had a strong feeling that your baby would be a girl.

Just a nagging, unwavering feeling but it was too early to confirm yet and as you noticed Neteyam’s eyes staring expectantly at you, you realised that now was not the time to be thinking of this.

“I’m sorry for crying. I guess I was being slightly dramatic but I felt overwhelmed.” You said sincerely and you still felt overwhelmed but the panic had began to subside.

Neteyam was your mate, your soul partner, your lover and now the father of your child.

You was certain that he wouldn’t reject you or the baby.

Certain that Neteyam was not that kind of man but your courage was thinning as time passed.

Neteyam grabbed your hand and interlocked his fingers with your own.

“Hey. What’s wrong, pretty girl?” If it wasn’t for the fear in your heart, you were certain you would have blushed.

“Neteyam, I.. can we talk about us?” Your eyes found his and he squeezed gently on your locked hands.

“Of course. What would you like to talk about, sevin?”

“Well, how about.. children.” You gulped as your eyes lowered to his hand still connected to yours.

Seeing your entwined hands, the thumping in your chest eased because Neteyam held you.

He always held you with such an endearing grip and so you looked back up to his eyes which was still on yours, urging you to continue.

“Before I found you, I had never wanted them. They seemed so hard to take care of and I got a glimpse of what parenting would look like while taking care of Lo’ak or Tuk. Eywa, let me tell you, it was hard work.” A soft laugh left his lips as his eyes drifted as if remembering a sweet memory of when he was young and his siblings were younger.

Such love in his eyes while he regarded his family was awe inspiring.

Heat sparked in your chest and you wondered if he would ever have that same look in his eyes while he watched his child playing in the forest or hunting for the first time.

Neteyam smiled while snapping out of his trance and then said “ but now that i’ve met you, my love, I would love to have a prrnen.” He moved a step closer until you could feel his breath fanning your nose.

His hand lifted to your cheek and you almost sighed in relief at the feeling.

He looked at you as if you held the world in your palms, as if you was the world itself.

And that was when you realised that you needn’t fear or weep because of fear.

Neteyam would love you regardless of giving him a child or not.

“Neteyam.” You sucked in a deep breath, your eyes locked on his soft ones.

His finger stroke your cheek as if urging you to continue.

“Neteyam, I am pregnant.”

WORD MEANINGS:

Sevin= pretty

prrnen= baby;infant

A/N - i am so sorry for the long wait, i haven’t had the motivation to write recently and have been quite busy. Anyway, i hope u all enjoy.

Thank you @paintcupp for requesting!

[teen-heart-throb-mr-hyde]

sir danvers is a plot device, not a twist villain: a brief essay.

can you tell i'm so tired. sorry not sorry for being extremely long winded. content warnings for discussion of SA/SH and homophobia beneath the cut.

there’s a lot of interpretations of jekyll and hyde that i disagree with. these disagreements range from a benign acceptance that some people have a different view of things than i do, and some of them genuinely really frustrate me. the idea that sir danvers was actually a terrible bigot or predator, with all of that information being passed onto hyde during their thirty second interaction, making the murder a Cool And Based thing, actually, falls into the latter category. it both embellishes minimal canonical evidence while ignoring what we actually know to be true, occasionally plays into some really nasty tropes, and is clearly just born out of a desire to shield hyde from criticism.

first things first, i’m not going to pretend like the type of guy sir danvers was, an old, presumably white british aristocrat, was a saint. if he was a real person, or even a fleshed out character, he would probably suck at least a little bit. but to put it simply, sir danvers is not a character, he’s a plot device. we know nothing about him. he exists to be murdered, to raise the stakes, both for utterson, proving to him that hyde is genuinely dangerous, and for jekyll, having this be the moment where he finally realizes he’s gone much too far. he exists for a couple paragraphs as a victim of this terrible crime, as a symbol of hyde’s monstrousness and jekyll’s shame, not as a real character. that is the purpose stevenson made him to serve.

we get a description of the murder from two perspectives: from a maid, and from jekyll. from the maid, we understand that the murder occurred some time near 11, and the inciting incident of the crime is seemingly sir danvers just asking hyde for directions in a friendly manner.

and that’s literally it! the guy asks someone for directions at night, and for his trouble he is murdered. i really think any reading of the maid's account to paint sir danvers badly is grasping for straws. 11 is really not that late to be walking home, or going for a stroll, and asking kindly for directions a stranger is both a totally mundane interaction, and one the maid finds hard to misconstrue.

"It did not seem as if the subject of his address were of great importance; indeed, from his pointing, it sometimes appeared as if he were only inquiring his way;"

again, i think that like sir danvers' character, we need to stop looking at this interaction and the maid's reaction to it through such a literal lens. stevenson makes a point at how in this moment, the maid feels at peace, that "never had she felt more at peace with all men or thought more kindly of the world." right before she witnesses such a vicious crime. sir danvers' "innocent and old-world kindness of disposition," solidifies that for her and makes what follows all the more horrific. it's textbook dramatic irony.

from jekyll's perspective, we get nothing of the actual events of the interaction. more so we're told of his internal process, what was running through his (or hyde’s) mind in the moment and aftermath of the crime. specifically, we get this passage:

"I was conscious, even when I took the draught, of a more unbridled, a more furious propensity to ill. It must have been this, I suppose, that stirred in my soul that tempest of impatience with which I listened to the civilities of my unhappy victim; I declare, at least, before God, no man morally sane could have been guilty of that crime upon so pitiful a provocation; and that I struck in no more reasonable spirit than that in which a sick child may break a plaything."

this is really the nail in the coffin for me. while the exact words exchanged between hyde and sir danvers, and really anything of sir danvers' character are left a mystery, we know for a fact that jekyll is an unreliable narrator. specifically, that he wants to paint himself as the better persona, to say that he is at least partially blameless and remorseful for hyde's action. why then, would he frame the murder like this if there was some way to salvage him being the good guy out of it? jekyll puts it in extremely plain turns: sir danvers did nothing to provoke hyde but speak to him, and hyde killed him because he was impatient, angry, and cruel, things about him that we already knew to be true. jekyll has no excuse for it, it is truly just an insensate act of malice.

a common (and in my opinion, Straight Up Weird) interpretation of sir danvers' and hyde's interaction is that sir danvers is a predator. sir danvers' "friendliness" and "civility" is really stevenson's secret code that he's making a creepy pass on hyde, presumably not taking no for an answer, and hyde's reaction to this is to attack him. frankly, i think stevenson is a bit smarter than that as a writer, and wouldn't hide something that intense, and different from what is portrayed on page, under layers of hypothetical victorian code language.

but other than that, this really bothers me. the vast majority of j&h fans on this site, where i've seen the "sir danvers was a creep" theory toted the most, are overwhelming queer. in turn, a lot of people interpret the narrative of the book as a queer metaphor, whether through gender or sexuality. jekyll has a part of himself that he has to hide from the world, a part that he's been made to be ashamed of. he has desires that are taboo or "undignified," and he takes chemicals to change his appearance to a form he is more comfortable with. in this light, jekyll becomes a sympathetic figure, a queer icon, to many readers, including myself. so it's frustrating to see this paired with a thoughtless use of the "older gay men are predators" trope. not only is it gross, it's genuinely a poor analysis of the actual events of in book, as i've explained above. in fact, the "queer predator" trope is something a lot of j&h fans accidentally fall into while somehow trying to be more progressive. (see any time people act as if in the musical, hyde and lucy's relationship would be fixed if they were both gay men or lesbians, while ignoring the actual text of the show.)

finally, i really think this interpretation comes down to one source: the woobification of edward hyde. people like hyde! at least, they like a version of him they've interpreted in their head. "he's not evil, he's just misunderstood!" "he wouldn't kill sir danvers in cold blood, provoked by nothing but impatience! hyde would only do that if he did something really awful, and actually sir danvers might have had it coming, so the murder was Cool And Based, actually!"

this characterization of hyde is narratively spotty, to say the least. there are more instances of hyde's violence, beyond just the murder, which stands out as the most brutal. what about the little girl he trampled? or the woman selling a box of lights while he's waiting for lanyon who he "smote in the face"? did either of them do anything to provoke hyde's Cool And Based righteous violence? they didn't, because it's not righteous, it's not Cool, nor Based. it's unprovoked cruelty. and if i'm being honest, to me, the fact that hyde kind of sucks is a feature, not a bug. personally, i like him because he's, for lack of a better word, evil. do i think there's more to him than that? yes. do i think he can still be sympathetic? also yes. but i think trying to soften his flaws by making the worst thing he does on page justifiable or reasonable is silly. declawing him as a character not only capable of great acts of violence, but one who enjoys them, really does him, and the book as a whole, a disservice.

anyways. tl;dr (because god knows this has been long as hell), hyde killed sir danvers in a random act of cruelty, not because he was The Real Villain all along. sir danvers is more of a plot device than a person, and trying to characterize him in a way that both misinterprets vague, minor events and larger canon can play into gross tropes, as well as erasing more complex aspects of hyde's character. in the end, i'm not the boss of you. if after all of this you still interpret events this way, and i'm aware you can do whatever you choose with fan adaptations, i don't really care. this is just take that really frustrates me based on the points above, and it's even more frustrating to see so many people to adopt as some sort of pseudo-canon.

[bluberimufim]

WIP Excerpt Tag

Helloooooo I have a lot of energy rn so I'm doing some more Complicated tag games. @words-after-midnight tagged me for this (check out his excerpt) and it seems fun, so I'm sharing a bigger snippet of DoS that I'm particularly proud of <3

Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and discussion of said thoughts because you can't take two steps in this WIP without hitting a trigger warning ffs

Theo's eyes, flowing with tears that ran down her face, were fixed on hers, never wavering. "Please..." she repeated. "...Theo?" "Let me die." Her expression didn't change. "What?" Her words could have been mistaken for a breath. "Let me die." Without hesitation. She tried to speak again, but her voice failed her. "...Theo" "Seth, my soul hurts so much. All the time. Please." She remembered, albeit vaguely, the words Dora had spoken years ago: My soul hurts. It has for some time. My mortal soul and my divine soul don't mix well. She tried to take Theo's hands, but she drew back with a pained yelp. "I can heal you," she said. "Let me heal you." "No, you can't." "Yes, I can! Let me heal your pain. Please." More tears fell from her eyes and a sound of pure agony was ripped from the depths of her chest. "Being healed hurts me... so much." "No-" "Every time you heal me, it feels as if my pain increases a thousandfold. I can't take it anymore..." "How long?" "I..." She hesitated. She knew the words would hurt her. "Two years?" Even with healing, there's not much you can do. And being healed constantly hurts. "I just want the pain to end, now," Theo confessed. "I want it to stop. I can't live like this." Seth felt tears burn the corners of her own eyes, threatening to spill. "But-" "Seth." Theo kept not letting her touch her, but she pulled her closer. "I love you. I love you more than anyone else. And I know you feel the same for me. That's why I'm asking you, please..." "I won't let you die!" Seth shot out, in a sudden burst of strength. "I need you!" Theo's gaze was impossibly hurt. "Seth, please... For as much as you love me, don't make me stand this pain any longer." Seth shook her head. She loved Theo. She loved her too much. She couldn't live if she wasn't by her side. She felt she wouldn't survive if Theo died. "I can't." "Seth..." "I refuse." Theo took her hands in hers - the wrists, through her shirt, still not giving her the relief of touch. The strength of her grip was immense, pulling her forward. Her tears made her words almost indistinguishable from her cries, intercut with sobs that seemed to shake her whole body. "Seth, I ask you. I implore you. Let me die. I can't take it anymore." It looked like she wanted to say something else, but she was unable to. She succumbed to her pain and collapsed, curled up on herself. Seth removed her wrists from her hold and hugged her, letting her bury her face in her shoulder, as she often times did. She raised a hand to her face, finally touching her skin, and let the energy flow. Right by her ear, Theo's breath was coming in short. She whined, softly, her voice holding back a scream. The hand she'd laid on Seth's back closed, dragging with it a fistful of her cloak. She ignored her cries and continued healing her.

This is one of those Seth's Questionable Moments when it comes to, like... being a good person in general. I love her so much. My morally grey and generally unpleasant protagonist. (Actually, calling her "morally grey" is kinda wrong since she pretty much has no consideration for morality. Her moral compass is working but Theo is a giant magnet.)

I really like this scene bc 1) it's Dramatic and Emotional; 2) it later gets paralleled with a scene where the Goddess of Time also does the exact same thing to Theo where she's basically like "I'm hurting you because I love you?" and Seth is like "damn she sucks, I'd never do that to you, bestie <3". No self-awareness whatsoever. Truly the character of all time.

And now, I want to gently tag @macabremoons, @olliexwrites, @full-on-sam, @pumpkinsplots, and anyone else who wants an excuse to share a big snippet. Have fun!!

[kisaraslover]

How do you like to imagine the Millennium Arc would have go down has Takahashi not been been too sick to give Priest Seto and Kisara the story that they deserved? T.T

see, reason im not a writer but an artist is that i SUCK at writing probably. best i can do is analyze and ask the story reinforce its pressure points? like for Seto and Set as the reincarnating single soul the story has these recurring beats that act as bridges for his arc,

Brief happy childhood interrupted by tragedy

Followed by prodigal formative years rise to power UNDER an oppressive father figure

The years above resulting in The Iconic Seto Kaiba Personality, power obsessed, proud, self righteous, unbendable will, complete commitment to his status, cold, cruel, crass, uncaring, except for affection for exclusive people.

Death of the father figure

Set(o) in now unquestionable power position, Set having become a sad but fair ruler, Seto having been placed into the plot of DM for further tests of fates

Kisara is placed in the middle of this fated story in ancient Egypt, supposedly forever changing the fabric of his being by the very tangible and very powerful and FELT effect of her undying loyalty and submission always backing him up. with her established points of;

a life of oppression and exclusion because of something as inherent and simple as her looks (truly a test to the cruelty of mortals) (neatly drawing a line between her and Others, making her out to be otherworldly)

followed by her, presumably multiple times, losing control of her Ka and punishing said mortals when she herself is in mortal danger, to unknown extent, always outside her control or will, contrasting her from Set(o) who bends, if nothing else, his own self to his will relentlessly, Kisara is outside of her own control,

which would be followed by her confusion, guilt, anger, grief, regret, self-hate, unknown feelings around her Ka

the exception to how world treats her being Priest Set, even if with wrong intentions in the beginning, which in return catches her interest and takes away her breath

them being Forced by outside forces into a single unit, oppressive conditions taking the Priest right from where he stands, opposite of her, and placing him cleanly in front of her, protectively.

then, as the concluding beat for them both, now forever changed and linked by their connection, Kisara's uncontrollable power is placed under his control, and his unbendable, ruthless and cruel force of will, bends for her, established by the final "All I wanted was your light" not your power, not your death, you by my side, having been changed

We can more clearly see the picture. So far everything ive said is inferred from canon, but like ALL of it could stand to be reinforced by a writer that Cares about what happens to Kaiba or Kisara in the story. What could stand to be said again better, THE MOST would be their love connection, the last two points. As you see, im already plenty happy with the exposition of both characters it gives us believable grounds for "and in the end, hes forever the master of the power of a woman who he'd rather have by his side no power and its his single saving grace and its what she would choose to do in every life" the characters can believably fall into this conclusion.

the problem is HOW they fall into that. it was HURRIED. Kisara's dramatic personality and Set's dramatic personality, seen by the other, appreciated, FORCED into allyship and the growing affection of both sides. the plot could have been slowed down, if by nothing else then prolonging her prisoner status, giving them some alone time. things i would like explored like:

her thankfulness and his interest in her Ka morphing into genuine care. We needed to see his compassion and her loyalty grow. Could have so many moments....

theyre ALWAYS going to end in tragedy IN THAT LIFE so why not commit fully. he feels resentment his mother died the day he saved her. that same day is the shining most beautiful moment in kisaras life where a complete stranger showed her compassion. finding this out breaks his heart.

if she and him are, at the time of the story, two people whose fates are crossing or were they ALWAYS meant and created for each other: to explain, im curious if BEWD, whose power rivals gods, did have godly roots before becoming a Strictly worldly being made of 2 working parts, the mortal vessel and the Ka. Set and Seto both have blue eyes. doesnt seem like the work of a Ka.

is it sadder if they kiss or is it sadder if they dont. idk but im voting kiss

the themes of control and will and dominance and submission. HEAR ME OUT OK Kisara, let alone her life, even her own self and body is outside of her control, things outside of her control like her coloring make everyone elses reactions to her out of her control, spiralling and living a lost life, wandering and walking into the one man who is obsessively, relentlessly a Problem to fate itself by sheer force of will, who's single moment of gentleness towards her rewards both of them with her favor, therefore the dragons favor, therefore relative control of it for the first time, should have been shown and spelled out. she surrenders to him with such trust, which inspires good in him in return. its a breath of relief to both, her power out of her hands, finally listening to someone and him being gifted SUCH a loyalty from a woman, SUCH absolute surrender......jesus im getting lightheaded..

so in general as you can see 1-im not good at making up my own plot points and 2-the point of contention isnt how ancient mizushipping is handled, while it needed more time to cook, im p good at squeezing out of canon MANY interesting threads and implications, so the way its hurried is ultimately forgivable to me.

my problem is modern world writing around Seto, BEWD, Kisara. i think the writing was generally wack all around and especially callous to Kaiba, therefore resulting in inconsistent Kisara, basically erased for other than moments establishing his obsession w power and feeding his narcissistic characteristics which is so sad to me, as Kisara represents HIS melting and HIS softening and HIS light. the entire canon makes BEWD just his ally outside of some minor moments, which dont have lasting consequences.

and this ⬆ is all about Staying In Canon and how It Could Be Improved, with answers to Fuck Canon How To Make It Better? being infinite and very interesting.

[asukamood]

Birthday special (Me)

***

It’s my birthday today! I have decided to write myself some Drue to celebrate it and it’s also a way for me to spend this lovely day with you all 😀

So let us rejoice in this!

***

Warnings: Panic attack

Synopsis: Today was supposed to be a good day.

So why, of all days, why was today the day Life had decided to make him deal with a panic attack?

***

Today was supposed to be a good day.

He had less work than usual and none of his subordinates had rushed to his office in panic to inform him of any kind of dramatic problem that he had to dispel one way or another.

There was no meeting to be upheld so no one to look at him in expectation in wait for one of his enlightening ideas.

There was no speech scheduled so he did not have to feel everyone’s piercing gazes from afar, history’s eyes set onto the target of his back, nor did he have to endure the stress and panic at the idea of stumbling on his words and making a fool of himself.

The door to his alcohol stash was sealed shut still so he did not have to worry about relapsing and breaking the promise he had made to a dear friend.

None of those stressful factors were present.

So why, of all days, why was today the day Life had decided to make him deal with a panic attack?

He had just been doing paperwork as usual, it was fine.

It was supposed to be fine.

So why was it not?

His hand had started to shake.

He noticed but he tried to ignore the trembling of the limb and keep writing.

It did not work.

His hand trembled enough to leave an ugly smear of ink on the sheet he was writing before it spiraled out of control, and he eventually let go of the pen. He tried to pick it back up but every time his fingers wrapped around the item; it would jolt away like it had been electrified.

He frowned as a heavy feeling crept its way through his chest until it was wrapped around his soul.

He brought his hand to his face and his eyebrows furrowed slightly more as he focused on how uncontrollable his hand was being.

Unknown to him, his hand was not the only thing that had started to become uncontrollable, his breathing had begun to act up.

The weird feeling squeezed his soul.

He pushed his spinning chair back, attempting to stand up.

He did not know why exactly but something was terribly wrong, this room felt like it was suffocating him, the walls closing in and leaving him no room to escape.

He had to leave.

His knees buckled under him when he stood up, forcing him to lean onto his desk with his two hands to stabilize himself. He could feel his soul beating his rib cage to hell.

One of his hands left the desk to grip at the front of his shirt instead, right above where his soul would be. He felt like blazing flames had engulfed him whole but at the same time, the sensation of being buried beneath thick layers of icy snow did not leave.

His breath got quicker as he tried to suck in oxygen through his mouth.

The silence was deafening.

He had to leave.

He took a step on his left, still holding onto his desk for dear life and accidentally knocked over a cup that fell to the floor and shattered. He barely noticed it when he crushed one of the shards with his foot.

He had made it to the end of the desk, but it felt like he had just run a marathon. He eyed the door in front of him, it was not too far away, surely, he was going to make it.

He had to leave.

But he could not, apparently, his legs having given up on him halfway and he collapsed. At least, he had managed to sit up against the door.

By now, saying that his vision was blurry was almost an understatement.

It was safe to say that he was pretty much blinded by it.

All shapes have been strangled beyond recognition by the heralds of anxiety and the colors swirled together in a frantic tornado, urging Dream to shut his eyes closed.

His ears were ringing.

His eyes were burning.

His head was aching.

He had to leave.

“...eam?” A voice vaguely called out to him, but he paid it no mind, preferring to focus on figuring out what the problem was in the first place.

“Dream?” The voice got louder and closer, it was not a figment of his imagination. Although, he would rather have it shut up now. The sound of a voice was only making his headache worse.

“Dream.” The owner of the voice seemed to sit up next to him and Dream groaned, bringing his legs over his chest. “What’s the matter?”

He felt sick.

He tried to tell the other person, whoever it was, to leave him alone or something of the sort. He could not be bothered to sort out his thoughts, but he only ended up sighing instead.

It was still hard to breathe.

His chest felt so tight.

“I’m going to touch you, okay?”

Vaguely, he could hear the other person inching closer to him before they lowered his knees. He let them do as they wanted, having the feeling they were no threat despite not being able to recognize who it was exactly.

His eyes remained closed.

That person put their hand on top of his hand, the one who was gripping his shirt and started rubbing soft circles on his knuckles. He tried to focus on the touch.

Why did it feel so familiar?

“Can you state three things you can feel for me?” Dream frowned in concentration.

“Your hand...” His other hand started to feel the ground. “The carpet...” A wind current sneaked in through the open window, grazing at his cheek. “And the wind.”

“Good, three things you can smell?”

… “Blueberry, coffee and-” He sniffed the air again. “Vanilla.”

He was starting to calm down.

“Okay, move three of his limbs then.” He shook his head then moved one of his feet and last but not least, raised one of his hands.

After that, he risked opening his eyes again. Thankfully, they did not seem to be out for his blood again as his vision had gone back to normal, the colors no longer burning his irises.

He blinked a few times before turning his head, meeting Blue’s eyes. He blinked awkwardly as he recognized him. “Blue?”

Well, he supposed that it was better to have been found him by him than one of his subordinates (or worse, a paparazzi. Dream shuddered in horror at the thought.)

“The one and only.” He smiled, taking the hand he had been rubbing slow circles on before bringing it to his face, kissing the knuckles. “How are you feeling now, angel boy?”

Dream masked his heated cheeks with a deadpan expression. He retracted his hand, letting it fall to his side. He could still feel tingles from where Blue kissed him. “I’m okay.” Then, after a few seconds of hesitation he added, “Thank you.”

Blue’s smile widened. “There is no need to thank me. Though, I would rather not be given such a fright again, I almost thought someone drugged you!” He dramatically shook his head. “What happened to you anyway?”

“I wish I could tell you.” Dream sighed, leaning back onto the door behind him. Suddenly, he felt like the entire world had fallen onto his shoulders. “I was just working as usual and it just, hit me.”

Blue hummed. “Sounds to me like you’re in dire need of rest.”

Dream eyed him before sighing. “You make it sound like I could just take a day off any time. I have work to do, I cannot be slacking off.”

“The multiverse isn’t going to crumble because you took a break.” Blue retorted, tracing the outlines of his hand with his finger. “Besides, your mind isn’t clear enough to go back to work yet, you won’t be as efficient if you were to go back to work now.”

Dream frowned. He had a point. “Plus, what would they do if you were to take a day off? Stop you? No one has much authority as you do, you are aware of it yourself. If you were not, you would not be doing this to yourself.” Blue lifted his hand before his fingers slipped beside Dream’s own, intertwining their hands.

Against his better judgment, Dream let him.

“You deserve and desperately need a break, so why not indulge yourself in some rest while you’re not too busy to do so?” He said nothing, preferring to look away.

Though, it was clear that Blue had understood it meant that he won.

“Splendid!” He exclaimed before getting up. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor though so stand up for me, will you?”

Dream nodded and a few minutes later, he was lying on the couch and peacefully sleeping as Blue entertained himself in running his hand through Dream’s soft locks.