#shallow swim step

[bicyclesonthemoon]

Philadelphia Pool Hot Tub

Inspiration for a large contemporary backyard concrete paver and kidney-shaped hot tub remodel

[bestabsolutefashion]

Patio Concrete Pavers in Philadelphia Inspiration for a large contemporary backyard concrete paver patio kitchen remodel with a roof extension

[parkeremerson]

Pool Hot Tub Large fashionable backyard image with a kidney-shaped hot tub

[carlagriffin]

Hot Tub in Philadelphia An illustration of a large, modern backyard with concrete pavers and a kidney-shaped hot tub

[marinelethellec]

Philadelphia Outdoor Kitchen Outdoor Kitchen Example of a large trendy backyard concrete paver patio kitchen design with a roof extension

[myname-isnia]

Y’know, for someone who developed such extreme thalassophobia as a child that she refused to go into the sea unless her mom held her the entire time, screamed at the sight of seaweed and refused to watch Finding Nemo with her sister and cousin, it sure is ironic that out of all mythical creatures it was MERMAIDS I made a Kuviren AU for

[hasretbhara]

Hot Tub Pool

[solbaby7]

Tripping Over You

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, some typos, sexual tension, clumsy reader, just fluff

summary: Your lack of situational awareness has a certain Shadowsinger stumbling to maintain his patience.

—

If Azriel was being perfectly truthful, he didn’t like you much.

It wasn’t personal but in the time he’d known you, he found you to have an annoyingly bad habit of being completely unaware of your surroundings; always just barely dodging being flayed by some disaster.

Call it bad luck or just plain carelessness but Azriel fucking hated it.

His fingers twitched when he’d caught you in a pile of your own limbs on the kitchen floor, a knife held loosely in your hand and a sheepish smile on your face as if you hadn’t almost just shoved the sharp blade in your neck because you’d been too preoccupied to clean up the little puddles of water you left around. “Give me that,” He grumbles with a scoff, carefully snatching the blade from your hands.

Unintelligible words drip from his tongue and you watch wide-eyed, slowly rising back to your feet as the shadowsinger quickly finished the sandwich you were attempting to make, slicing it four ways with a huff and sliding it in your direction. “Thanks.”

“You need to be more careful.”

More of that went on for weeks.

Short, snappy comments on your inability to step out of bed without the possibility of breaking a bone, soothed over by Azriel just completing whatever task for you. His behavior should’ve deterred you; the deep scowls and gruff voice, the tension in his shoulders that formed when he noticed you in a room—but at least he always noticed.

Always had a hand curling around your arm when you tripped and was the first one to pull you out of the water after wandering off a little too deep. Water soaks your hair, dripping into your eyes and you’re weightless when he tugs you over to the more shallow area, seaweed sinking in your toes. “Why are you even in the water if you can’t swim?”

“I can swim,” It comes out choppy, cheeks red from all the coughing but Azriel can’t help the feeling that burns in his belly when you peer up at him, eyes glittering and full lips quirking at the corners. “Just didn’t realize how far out I’d gotten.”

He looks positively exasperated by your passiveness, chest rising and falling quickly with each breath and you’re no better than any of the other women who dared stare at the spymaster long enough to take in the true expanse of muscle that lies beneath those leathers. Rippling pectorals, biceps that flexed deliciously as he spoke; he’s more animated than you’d ever anticipated, usually offering nothing but perfect silence—or the occasional sarcastic comment towards his brothers. You’re not really paying attention to what he’s saying, eyes wandering down his form and he abruptly stops talking when he sees the way your eyes catch down his abdomen, mouth pouty and hair dripping down your shoulders. “Are you even fucking listening?”

“Not really.”

“Unbelievable,” The view when he turns is almost as amazing as the front, perfect dips and ridges of his back and broad shoulders enough to have you forcing your eyes away before you drooled enough to fill the lake three times over. Inky hair shines under the sun, hazel eyes snapping to you over his shoulder and shadows slink out to you in seconds. They push at you, urging you forward until your toes sink in dry sand.

Azriel lets you go ahead first, partially because he wasn’t a hundred percent confident you wouldn’t try going back—but mostly he just wants a better look at the bathing suit you’d slipped into. It’s nothing overtly scandalous but attention drawing all the same, skinny ties and bottoms that show enough to have his fingers twitching with want at his sides. “You’re staring,” Rhys informed, a bare elbow nudging into Azriel’s ribs.

“Because, I just don’t get it,” He’s referring to you, tripping twice over nothing on your return to the girls under the shade, your knees scraped from a tumble and a scarred hand reaches to cup the back of his head when Amren swiftly stabilized you. “How come when Amren finally decides to make friends it’s with fucking Bambi of all people?”

“She’s sweet,” Rhys shrugs, violet eyes regarding you no more than a sister but your beauty was undeniable. “So, she’s a little clumsy—big deal.”

“A little clumsy,” Az repeats, sounding genuinely annoyed and the High Lord can’t push back the growing smirk that tugs on the corners of his mouth. “She’s a liability, she’s going to get herself ki—“ The words die on his tongue, a low sound pulling from his chest when Azriel is forced to send a shadow out to stop you from slicing your fingers clean off with the dagger Mor had handed over to pry open the wine bottle. “Mother above.”

The air was fresh, a cool breeze sifting through quickly drying clothes under the sweltering sun and Rhysand could admit he’d seen his brother through many emotions. Anger, grief, disappointment, happiness—but never such mother hen like attentiveness; hazel eyes tracking your every move like a hawk. “Are you interested in her?”

“Are you insane?”

Rhys shrugged, bare shoulders going golden under the suns rays. “That answer varies depending on who you ask but that doesn’t really answer my question.”

“She’s—“ The words get caught in his throat, muscles tensing under the discomfort that grows under his skin because Azriel hadn’t even thought about that. Sure, he’d been slightly more involved than he’d originally planned but you just kept getting yourself into such trouble; he had no choice but to stay close behind to make sure you stayed safe. “There’s no way—“ Heat begins to warm the top of his ears and the shove he gives is less than gentle. “Oh, fuck you.”

Rhysand doesn’t seem phased, a teasing smile on sharp features and Azriel doesn’t miss the way the High Lord keeps trailing his eyes back to Feyre, her fingers raking through your hair until most of it was braided out of your face and decorated in an assortment of little flowers. You’re soft—a little too sweet and that obliviousness Az always grumbled about was a little noticeable in the way you allowed things to just happen around you. Fey deciding to do your hair, Mor topping off your wine before you’d even gotten halfway through, Nesta snatching at the book you’d had tucked in your bag and her eyes widen when she flips to a random page, a red tinge flushing her cheeks.

But the book shuts too quickly for even Az’s shadows to sneak a peek.

“You’re allowed to be happy you know,” Rhysand doesn’t look; doesn’t even let his voice get too loud in fear that his friend would shut down or disappear and never bring up a single personal thing again. “If you like her then just act on it. Mother knows we all could benefit from a little more happiness.”

There’s a pause and Rhys can’t get a good read on what Azriel’s thinking. “I appreciate that but that’s not what this is. She’s just a danger to herself and others—it’s better I keep an eye on her myself.”

A knowing smile on the Lord of Darkness’ face. “Right, of course.”

—

It only gets worse from there and while Azriel doesn’t catch onto it right away—Rhysand was definitely behind it. Conjuring up wisps of darkness to curl around your ankles and trip you up, forcing the shadowsinger to rush to your aid and somewhere along the way he ditches his sneer for just a soft frown. “Sorry,” You sheepishly allow yourself to be steadied, acutely aware of the large hands splayed at your hips. “I think I’m still a little tired.”

“I bet,” Azriel’s quick to retort, hands slipping away entirely too soon and the ghost of where his touch once was yearned for more. “Heard Amren and Mor have been introducing you to Rhys’ liquor collection.”

At the reminder your hand raises to press to your temple, a low grunt sounding under your breath and he finds your crankiness kind of adorable. “Yeah, they’ve been breaking me in.”

He swallows audibly at the word choice, hazel eyes stealing a glance at you from the very corner of his vision but you make no indication that you were intending being flirtatious—it still doesn’t stop the blood from rushing to his cock. Giant wings bristle behind him and Azriel can’t stop staring at your night clothes; a tiny pair of shorts and an oversized shirt that hung off one shoulder. Your legs look soft; bare toes padding against the floor until you’re perched on the stool, eyes still a little hazy with sleep but you don’t make a move to cook anything—not with Azriel around.

He would’ve stopped you if you tried anyway and then he’d start complaining about you not being able to touch the appliances after forgetting to turn the burner off one time—or four.

But, who was really counting?

It’s instinctual the way he grabs for some fruit and a bowl, washing and carefully cutting them; peeling bitter citrus off and leaving the sweet parts before sliding the blow over. “Eat.”

You don’t hesitate though you do sigh softly, feet swinging. “Did Amren hire you to like take care of me or something?”

His brows furrow, confusion growing at the question, at your tone, at the embarrassed expression sinking into such pretty features it makes Azriel’s stomach twist. “No.”

But you only nod, frown still present while you spear at fresh fruit. “Are you sure? I know you’re the High Lords spymaster and Ren told me how you like to keep an eye on things.”

Ren?

Since when did Amren allow nicknames?

“—mentioned how she’s had you look after a few prized possessions for her before.” You seem different to him somehow, more guarded and stern than he’d ever once seen you and it sends a shiver up his spine. Intrigue grows, the picture of you he’d been painting of some scampering baby animal was beginning to seem furthest from the truth with such contained fire behind your tone and suddenly he wonders exactly where Amren even found you.

“I have before, yes.” The kitchen remains silent; probably not for much longer with the steadily rising sun and the smell of hot food beginning to waft in the air as Azriel sauntered about the kitchen—chopping here and adding spices there, cracking an egg or two before cranking the heat up a little higher to cook the potatoes faster. “And no, she didn’t ask me to watch you.”

“Then, why are you here?” You clear your throat, seemingly aware of how it comes off and he can’t resist a smile when you look genuinely confused. “Why are you always here?”

“I’m still not a hundred percent sure about that yet but,” He doesn’t face you when he answers, shoulders stretching out a plain black tee with carefully cut out lines on the back nearly six inches in diameter to make room for the base of his wings. They hover high behind him, flexing and shifting with his arms as he moves and you find yourself a little transfixed—a trained killer preparing you breakfast in his pajamas. “—you looked like you’d been stumbling your way through life for a while,” You’re pleasantly surprised by the amount of care in his voice; hair mussed and pillow lines fading in the left side of his cheek and your eyes catch on the low hang of his sweatpants. “Getting passed off from one hand to the next, just allowing life to happen to you however it came at you and I guess—“ He lets out a deep breath, the words seeming to be a struggle to muster up, to say out loud and you stay quiet in fear of scaring him off. “I suppose I could relate to what that felt like once upon a time and I figured you could benefit from a little support.”

You’re quiet longer than he’d have liked and Az can’t tell if the uptick in your heartbeat is a good thing or not but his shadows urge him to turn—to look. You seem skeptical at first, eyes boring into him so intensely he felt like you were stripping him bare, pulling back his ribs and holding his heart in your hands; judging his character and his choices and the soul that resided somewhere in between.

It’s a struggle to remain calm, the cool disposition that Azriel had thought he’d mastered crumbled to nothing before his very eyes. Scarred hands take their time fixing your plate, piling on the protein and making sure to add the fruit he’d caught you wiggling over the last time.

“No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.” Someone’s awake, you can hear their footsteps against the glossy floors and a steaming piece of bacon is pinched between two fingers when you lean over and press a kiss to Azriel’s cheek; just a gentle pressure an inch or two away from his mouth but you might as well have just punched him right in the gut with the way it takes his breath away. “Thank you.” He’s still reeling when you continue, humming in appreciation over your food and his fate is sealing when you smile brightly at him. “You know, you’re not so bad when you aren’t being a prick.”

“Tolerable enough to let me take you out sometime?”

“I’m surprised you know that’s a thing,” You tease over your food, wisps of cool darkness careening through your hair and resting at your thighs like a napping feline. “—considering you’ve taken to just following me everywhere.” There’s a blush burning on the curve of his ears, shadows ghosting past your ear as a distraction and distantly you wonder if Azriel could feel you the way they could. “Tripping me up with these things just to have an excuse to put your hands on me.”

“Wait, I haven’t—“ There’s a smug cough sounding in his brain and the spymaster’s gaze cuts to the corner of the room. A smirking Rhys still shirtless from the night before just lingering in silence, silently urging, mentally pleading with Az to just take this slice of happiness. He sucks in a soft breath, heart thudding against his chest and his voice is barely above a whisper. “If you knew why didn’t you stop me?”

He can smell your conditioner when you turn to face him, palms braced on the stool beneath you and you lean forward, eyes staring up at him and your toes graze at his knees. “Because, I like your attention.” More rustling and the unmistakable sound of Cassian’s booming laugh and you’re jumping off the stool, food finished and plate dropped off in the sink and Azriel can’t help but think that’s the most balanced he’d ever seen you as your hips swish a little on your way out, words thrown over your shoulder before you disappear. “And yes, I would like to go out with you sometime.”

[aoyum]

Confess.

neteyam x gn!metkayina reader, lo’ak x gn!metkayina reader, aonung x gn!metkayina reader, roxto x gn!omaticaya reader

fluff, a PINCH of jealousy, lips on lips, mentions of blood, fighting

how their feelings for you come to the surface

2.4k words

im aware that aonungs is way shorter than the rest.. 😞 #FREEAONUNG. LO’AK AND ROTXO ARE A PAIN TO WRITE, ESPECIALLY ROTXO. JESUS

Neteyam;

You intricately weaved one string through another, licking your lips in deep focus. Your hand searched the ground for a bead, sliding it onto the two strings once you found one.

You failed to realize that someone had been approaching from behind, flinching hard when you felt the feather-light touch on the small of your back. Snapping your head around you were met with the familiar sight of Neteyam, pulse quickening with nerves instantly.

“Skxawng,” you hissed, gripping onto the necklace like a vice, “you scared me Neteyam.”

He laughed, the sound resonating through one ear and out of the other. It was a sound you could never tire of. “I am sorry,” he whispered, shifting his body to move in front of you, “what are you making?” he asked when he noticed the object in your hands.

“A necklace,” you said coolly.

“For who?” you sensed hesitation in his voice, flicking your gaze up at him without adjusting your head.

“Well, I can’t say. it was supposed to be a surprise,” you mumbled, hinting to him subtly.

His lips formed a tight line, uncertainty etched over his face. A hand reached out and planted itself over yours firmly. At this you froze your ministrations and looked back up to him slowly.

“Who is it for?”

“Neteyam—”

“Oh, come on,” he urged. You sighed and looked down.

Crawling around him, you stopped behind him and he twisted his head to watch you. “Za’u, move your hair.”

He wasted no time in doing so.

You wrapped it around his neck and tied gently, beads clinking against each other while doing so. You moved again and examined the jewelry on his neck.

It was a perfect fit.

Smiling proudly, you drawled closer, locking eyes with him. “Luckily, you arrived just as I was finishing,” you smiled, gaze wandering all over his face.

Neteyam looked at you intensely, an indecipherable expression on his face. Butterflies swarmed the pit of your belly, your heart beating erratically. Opening your mouth to speak again, his golden eyes dropped to your lips.

“Made for you. Only you.” you whispered, fingers still looped around the string of the necklace.

“Yeah?” he grinned, gaze never leaving its place on your lips. You nodded and Neteyam leaned in close, too close. Nerves were attacking your better judgment and you were failing to think of anything other than the close proximity between the two of you.

His eyes darted to yours for some kind of approval, and approval was all he found.

Connecting his lips with yours, a warm hand found solace on your mid-thigh, his free one tugging you in by the waist.

The two of you remained like that until both were quietly gasping for breath.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Lo’ak;

“Come on bro, it’s now or never,” Neteyam said in a hushed tone, shaking his younger brother by the shoulders.

The pair was staring at you from afar, watching the way you splashed and played around in the water with their sisters and Tsireya. “You’ve been holding out for forever,” he insisted, giving Lo’ak an encouraging push.

He groaned, rolling his shoulders in exasperation. Lo’ak began making shallow, hesitant steps towards the water, insides churning with trepidation. As he neared the water, you took notice and paused, smiling at him.

“Lo’ak! Come! We were just about to swim,” you waved him over, turning on your heel and venturing deeper into the water. He quickly rushed over and ducked his head underwater.

You were already several feet under, but you stopped to look up at him.

“Hurry,” you signed, remaining still while waiting for him to catch up.

He swam as quickly as he could, when he reached you, you intertwined your hand with his and swam toward the rest of the group.

As you did so, Lo’ak had to refrain from pulling you back. He wanted to take you somewhere you could be alone to tell you, but he silently followed alongsuit.

You stopped at the large rock that everyone typically practiced breathing at and hoisted yourself onto it, followed by Kiri and the others. The group sat around in a circle and began to engage in conversation. Lo’ak, of course, choosing a spot next to you.

After a while of chatter you found yourself growing bored, so you wordlessly slipped away and into the water. No one paid much mind, other than a certain someone.

As you dove deeper, you really took into account just how much beauty the reef held, reaching out to touch the beautiful scenery and animals. Spinning around, to say that you were surprised to see Lo’ak, so close into your vicinity of space, would be a major understatement.

His eyes widened and he moved back immediately, signing a quick apology before moving closer cautiously.

“Come to the surface? I want to tell you something.” you watched his hands, meeting his eyes and nodding slowly before resurfacing.

You pushed the hair out of your face as soon as you breached the water, Lo’aks head popping up not too long after you. “What’s up?” you asked, brows furrowing slightly. You watched as he looked back to everyone, turning back to you and grabbing your arm gently before guiding you behind a larger rock.

You were confused, but played along without complaint.

“Listen, I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes. Nervousness slowly began to trickle into your system as you grabbed his shoulder, brows furrowed deeper this time. “What’s this about Lo’ak?”

“I like you,” he spat abruptly, “I like you so much.”

You froze, hand slowly slipping from his shoulder. His own hand burst out of the water and held it, searching your eyes for any twinge of rejection or disgust.

Your bottom lip quivered a bit as you registered his words, face flushing and heart racing. “You like me? You’re sure of this?” your voice sounded nothing like you as you spoke.

“I’ve never been more sure— not of anything—” he whispered hastily, eyes glowing with desperation.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When you’d returned to the others stuck to each other like moth to a flame, you would have expected some reaction out of them. But not an ounce of shock came from them— any of them.

You were told with utmost smugness that you ‘showed hardly any restraint when the other was around’, and that the attraction between you two was palpable to anyone who had eyes.

Sheepishly, you lowered your head and leaned further into Lo’ak, who greedily took in the feeling of your touch and returned it with enamored words and embraces.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Ao’nung;

The last thing you’d probably ever expected to see was the eldest son of the Olo’eyktan stumbling into your marui.

“What?” you blinked, taken off guard. It wasn’t quite a question, but then again, you wanted answers.

Ao’nung stood wordlessly, eyes boring into yours. The awkwardness of the encounter had the temperature feeling hotter than it really was.

You stood and took a few steps, stopping right in front of him. Still, he was quiet. He grabbed onto your forearm and dragged you outside, pressing your backside into the soft material of the marui.

“Everything oka—” you wanted to ask, but this had Ao’nung sighing loudly and dropping his head, as if he was getting ready to say something he really, really didn’t want to say.

“Ao’nung!” you heard the familiar voice of Rotxo. It sounded extremely close.

Almost as if it was coming from the opposite side of your—

His head lifted with quick speed, bringing his body impossibly close to yours. You were utterly trapped between the exterior of your home and the warmth of the boy you were head over heels in love with.

“Let me kiss you,” he pleaded, breath fanning over your lips. The request alone left you breathless and took all words from your mouth. Sounds of multiple hurried footsteps were heard from around the marui, hinting that Rotxo was approaching quickly. Too quickly for Ao’nungs liking.

He hissed in frustration, meeting your gaze.

“Okay. Yes.” you whispered, in a matter of seconds his soft lips were on yours.

“Ao’nung you wuss!” Rotxo’s laughter resonated through the air, “I knew you wouldn’t—” his sentence quieted and never finished. You pried one eye open, not so much that it was noticeable, but just enough to see the look of astonishment on their faces.

The sight alone had you smiling into the kiss, bringing your hands to his chest while his fingers gently caressed the skin of your outer thigh.

Their footsteps could be heard walking away, yet you wanted nothing more than to continue feeling his touches.

He was first to break the kiss, leaving you chasing his lips for more. He gazed at you through hooded lids.

A smug grin broke out onto your face.

“Did you wanna tell me just what that was, Ao’nung?” you queried, voice full of amusement.

He clicked his tongue and lifted himself off of you, walking away.

Your jaw fell slack and you took off after him, yanking his tail playfully, “Oh no! We are not done here!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Rotxo;

Rotxo had a genuine staring problem.

From the day you and your family arrived at the Awa’atlu village, seeking a safe sanctuary, he would eye you up and down until you had to move yourself away from him.

Furthermore, whenever his friends would hurl insults at you, he would take to defending you and your siblings against their harsh words.

Apparently, it was extremely uncharacteristic of him, as you’ve caught him and Ao’nung quarreling about it once or twice.

“Seriously, what’s gotten into you?” Ao’nung grumbled, throwing a fish to an ilu. “I’m starting to think those freaks have really gotten into your head.”

Rotxo stood in silence beside him, glowering at his side profile. When Ao’nung turned to look at him, a wide grin broke out onto his face “Don’t tell me they already have?” he scoffed, chest rising and falling with laughter.

“Cut it out, Ao’nung.”

The teasing smile faded slowly, with him now staring at Rotxo with a hardened jaw. “Or what? Gonna get your freak friends on me? They’re not even real Na’vi, Skxawng.”

Rotxo hissed, fangs gleaming as he flaunted them.

Ao’nung mirrored his actions.

It was obvious what was next to come, and just as you were about to step in, the sound of a horn sounded out.

Many Metkayinas rushed out of their homes, jumping onto their ilu’s hastily.

In the distance, long and heavy fins could be seen lifting up in the water.

The Tulkun had returned.

Ao’nung glared at Rotxo for a moment longer, before turning and running to join the others.

You were too busy watching him to realize that Rotxo had spotted you, staring at you with an intensity that had goosebumps rising on your arms. You crossed your arms and tentatively held his eyes, slowly backing away to join the others as quickly as you could.

Now, you were put in the same position, watching as he and Ao’nung began to argue over how defensive he was over you and your siblings.

Ao’nung was first to lunge at Rotxo, knocking him onto the ground. He growled, standing quickly and whirling around, slapping Ao’nung clean across the face with his tail.

He was grabbed by the ankle and knocked down once more, the left side of his face making a collision with the ground.

You cringed, knowing it would more than likely leave a nasty mark.

He lifted himself and climbed on top of Ao’nung, bringing his fist down to his face several times before he was pushed off, now being Ao’nungs turn to land a few.

While the situation was beyond humorous to you, you figured it would be best to put a stop to it before it got any worse.

Quickly moving on the sand, you mustered up all of your strength and shoved Ao’nung away, defensively standing in front of Rotxo.

At first, he wore an expression of anger, and then realization.

“So this is why you’ve been acting like this, huh? Over some five-fingered dreamwalker,” he chuckled dryly, wiping some blood from his split open lip.

You hissed, eyes darkening. “I am no such thing. Leave now.”

He circled around you, eyes never leaving your form. Stopping for a moment, he tilted his head, examining you thoroughly.

Rotxo had stood ages ago, only now taking the spot next to you.

“Are you so stupid that you cannot understand what I said? Leave. Now.” you seethed, glaring daggers onto him.

Scoffing, Ao’nung slowly backed away and left, never bothering to look back.

After a stretched moment of silence, you turned to look at Rotxo, only to find that he had already been looking at you.

There it was— that same stare with the intensity that had you feeling like he was burning lasers into your skin with just his eyes.

“Za’u,” you grabbed his hand and led him to your marui.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had gathered all your medical supplies and was now kneeled in front of Rotxo, gently taking care of his wounds.

Lightly dabbing his open gashes with a disinfectant, he sharply exhaled at the sting and grasped your wrist without realizing it. When he did though, he was quick to snatch his hand back, at this you smiled softly.

“All done.” you reassured him, packing up whatever leftover material you had and throwing away used items. You failed to realize that Rotxo watched your every move, eyes never daring to leave you.

When you turned your attention back to him, you took notice of the newfound glint in his eyes.

“Why do you stare at me all the time?” you asked while sitting yourself in front of him. His ears perked up and he looked away instantly.

“I do not,” he said, defiant.

You scoffed, moving your head so that you could meet his eyes. He refused to look at you, standing abruptly. “Thanks for the help,” he grumbled, making an attempt at stomping away, but you were quick to grab hold of his hand.

“Rotxo, do not leave. I am truly curious.”

He paused, internally battling himself. It wasn’t long until he gave in and fell to the ground before you.

“I don’t think you are a freak.” he whispered so quiet, you almost didn’t catch it.

You blinked, a smile pulling at your lips. “Ah. How reassuring.”

“No! …No.” he seethed, tugging at your wrist firmly. “You don’t understand what I’m saying.”

You traced patterns into the back of his palm, searching his eyes with furrowed brows.

“So tell me what you’re saying.”

A few beats of silence passed as Rotxo averted his eyes, nervously pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth. It took ages before he finally mustered up the courage to look at you.

“Oel ngati kameie.”

©olangi 2023

za’u = come

oel ngati kameie = i see you

skxawng = idiot, moron

[starkeyisthelastname]

Hi! Could you do Rafe x virgin!reader where she wants to do it but she’s scared bc all her friends said it hurts and also bc rafe is big. He talks her through it (smut please🫶🏽)

(I picture Rafe in this as at the party in season 3 episode 7 🥵)

You sat on the edge of the king bed in what you assumed to be the master bedroom. The music from the party outside, could still be heard as you waited patiently for the man who told you to go upstairs. You couldn’t deny the fact you were nervous as you didn’t know exactly what was about to happen. All you knew was that you and the party host had been flirting with each other from the moment you arrived.

You had met Rafe working as a cart girl at the Island Club. The attraction there from the moment your eyes locked. He was gorgeous but intimidating. Your friends telling you to stay away from the troubled boy. His sex was rough and was painful as he showed no mercy to any of his partners in the bedroom. His size also part of that. You had never talked to him much, only occasional flirty glances and a hello. But the day he came in with his hair buzzed, sporting a whole new look, had you wanting him more than ever.

Which is how you found yourself in the master bedroom of Tannyhill at the party he had invited you to. Small talk, and red solo cups full of alcohol, had him asking you if you wanted to go upstairs. With a little bit of liquid courage, you nodded, ignoring the fear in the back of your mind. You were still a virgin and Rafe Cameron was most likely about to take it.

The bedroom door opened, making you looked up to see Rafe walking in, the lock clicking behind him. You swallowed the lump that was in your throat, the funny feeling in your tummy coming back as you looked up at him. “Is uh.. everything okay?” You asked, watching him stand in front of you. His light eyes, raked over your body which was barely covered by the tiny pink bikini.

Nodding, he stepped closer. “Yeah.. yeah.. everything is good.” He scratched the back of his head as if he was hesitant. “Mind if I tell you something?” He asked, glancing at you as to wait for your reaction. “What is it?” You asked, your voice barely audible as you felt his presence close in on you.

Your eyes focused on his, the magical looking blue now turning a dark color. “I absolutely want to ruin you.” He said lowly, smirk on his face.

Your fears came alive the moment he stripped of his swim trunks, the monster everyone had warned you about was now right in front of your eyes. He had taken his time with his thick digits and amazing tongue before telling him that you were ready. You were certainly wet enough after cumming for him, the bikini you wore, across the room as you laid naked. The man before you now completely nude, standing between your legs.

He helped you bend your legs back, knees resting against your chest so that he could see the pretty view. He ran the tip along your soaking folds, watching your body tense up immediately in nerves. “Hey, relax. Yeah? Look at me.” He told you, your eyes falling on his. Pushing in, the burning stretch had you wincing in pain as you felt just how huge he was. He let out a groan, eyes rolling back as he pushed through your tight cunt.

“You.. are so big.” You whimpered, gripping the sheets, the pain slowly subsiding to turn into pure pleasure. You looked down to watch his length disappear inside of you, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. His thrusts sped up, toned abs flexing and mouth open as he began to pound into you. You were soaking his cock, your cream at the base of his dick when he pulled back.

“I’m stretching this virgin pussy open, aren’t I?” His breath shallow as he hit something that was making you feel funny. “Such a good girl. Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

You gasped, your cunt clenching the more he spoke. The way this man was making you feel like you were on cloud nine just with his dick had you on the verge of exploding. “Ruining you for anybody else. Got that? Making you fucking mine.” He told you, his face nothing but serious as he made sure you looked directly at him. All you could do was nod lazily completely hypnotized by him and his dick, coming undone as you did something you had only ever seen in a porn video which was squirt like a geyser all over him.

[ddejavvu]

you’re probably sick of animagus reader fics but if you’re up for it i was wondering whether you were in the mood for some remus x fem reader?

maybe r is a dormouse or smth and just practically stays tucked inside rem’s sweaters or the inside pockets of his robes/blazer. r possibly falls out his sweater is a really crowded corridor (can’t change back) and rem panics cause he doesn’t fancy his girl being flattened <3

You make a mental note, while fleeing the shadows of impending doom that cascade onto the chilled stone floor around you, that you need to make sure Remus never buys another pair of pants with such shallow pockets. You typically cling to the inside of his sweater, but he's bundled up a little too warm for your taste today, and you'd tucked yourself into the linty confines of his corduroys instead.

It had all been going well, until someone had bumped rather aggressively into his thigh, the one that you were pressed worriedly against, and you'd darted to your left to escape the pain. Unfortunately, left was the direction of the pocket's opening, and the fall to the stone tile beneath you had been a monumental one for your small size.

Thankfully, you hadn't splattered against the tile, but you're running for your life now, and you seem to be swimming upstream no matter which direction you turn. There's always feet working against you, feet close to trampling your tail, feet threatening to squash your lungs, and you yearn for the solace of Remus's plush pocket once more.

Remus only gets a few steps away from the spot where you'd tumbled unceremoniously to the ground before he reaches his hand into his pocket, intent on scooping you out and discreetly moving you to his sweater. But there's nothing in his pockets save for a button that had fallen off of the inside of his book bag, and panic seizes his chest in its heavy, unforgiving claws.

"Uh-" He flounders, steps hesitantly stuttering over the floor as the ebb and flow of students around him becomes suffocating. Now, all of a sudden, he's not a part of the crowd, he's what they're fighting against, and he pats down his other pockets in case you'd just moved addresses.

You haven't.

Dropping to his knees is rather difficult amidst a stampede, and it's not only his weary joints that ache, but his hands as disgruntled students hoof over them. He ignores the way his pinky smarts, twinging pink with a pained flush beneath the toe of a third-year, and ducks his head to the ground to see if he can spot you scampering amongst the students.

There's movement all around him, but none if it is your size. Black and red and green and blue and yellow blur through his vision as students of all houses flood the halls, and each second that he doesn't find you alive and well worries at his heart with panic's mangled claws. He thinks he sees you to his left, but- oh, that's a cat, and that's worse, so he ducks even further to the ground, and redoubles his effots.

Thankfully, you've noticed the deviated path the students are now taking, annoyed grumbles about the idiot stooped in the hallway. That's your idiot, you think, and you scamper as fast as your tiny legs allow to meet Remus where he knees.

He sees you coming, his pretty eyes flood with a relief so palpable you can feel it in your own chest, and just before you can scurry into his outstretched hand, you feel something heavy land on your tail and trap you in your place. You feel a puff of breath against your back, and the snare of cat's claws against the meat of your tail, but before the beast can lean down and devour you, Remus lunges for your body, cupping his hand over your trembling form and swatting the animal away.

"Absolutely not, thank you." Remus snaps at the cat, and a second-year gives him a rather apprehensive stare as she hurries around him, "Darling, are you okay?"

You're not very articulate in mouse form, but you manage a thankful squeak, one that Remus smiles fondly at while straightening up.

The cat doesn't look very happy with him, but Remus isn't afraid of a few more scratches on his arm, and you nestle securely into his palm when he straightens, limbs limp with confident exhaustion, that he'd let the cat claw open each one of his scars ten times before he ever let it get a shot at you.

[sakkiichi]

HERE COMES THE SUN.

They comfort you while you’re having a difficult time.

ft. Childe, Lyney, Albedo, Shikanoin Heizou x gn! reader.

cw/genre: hurt/comfort.

for my dear @https-furina I know you’ve been going through trying times lately, so I hope this can comfort you a little <3 I also struggled a lot with Heizou’s part, so I apologize if it’s no good at all…

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ CHILDE

Linen sheets feel like ropes on raw skin against the morning chill.

Its warm cream color, ashen, nothing like the mirror sunrises you were used to witnessing right after you opened your eyes.

What’s the point in opening them anymore? You wonder.

You bury your face against the pillows. In any other occasion, you would have been grateful for the coolness of its silk.

Now it’s just an iceberg. Like a missing shard of your shallow beating heart.

“Someone’s sleepy today.” A familiarly perky voice greets, the mattress dipping slightly with new weight.

You rolling in the other direction is all the greeting that meets him.

“Hey, love! It’s time to wake up!” Childe chuckles, his hand gently shaking your body.

Yet something already tells him this is not right; you usually would have already shoved him away by now.

But today you’re just… unresponsive…

The dull oceans of his stare rise in dangerous waves at your state.

Hesitant, he calls your name, his tone more like a question.

And this time, he does get an answer.

Familiar arms he adores wrapped around him loop around his middle, your face burying against his chest.

You’re warm, yet you feel so… faraway… as if the pain of past memories was seeping out your light.

Ajax is no stranger to the despair palpable in your strong grip around him, he’s endured it himself, through years robbed of him by an abyss that turned him into a master of all weapons.

So because he’s known the cold of endless nights where all he had was a tattered red scarf to remember the warmth of a distant home, he now holds you.

And for someone whose hands were tainted in the filth and bloodshed of a lifetime of slaughter, Ajax is undeniably gentle.

His fingertips ghost over your skin, easing the burning anguish of bed covers that felt too rough, too suffocating, too wrong.

When your lover’s hands get lost in your hair, combing it, you swear sun rays filter through the deep sea you’re falling through.

And then, suddenly, the choice to swim upwards presents before you, scarred sun-kissed hands extended towards you.

You take them.

When you open your eyes, russet sunsets and constellations over your beloved’s skin greet you.

His lips find yours, a bit chapped but gentle; not his usual playfulness, but soothing aquamarine waves.

You swear Childe’s kiss tastes salty. And that’s when you realize the dry tear-tracks down your cheeks.

He made them dry, sunlight evaporating puddles after grey days.

You break the surface, the waters now turquoise beneath Ajax’s light.

He won’t let you sink again.

✧ LYNEY

A whole audience’s cheers fill the Opera Epiclese. Lights shine upon every smiling face, every vigourous clap of hands after the magician’s grand finale echoing through the theater.

However, the illusionist’s gaze of amethyst is focused on the sole grim expression amongst millions of joyous others.

Yours.

Your hands move, clapping together, as if automated; your eyes stare at everything, seeing nothing; your mouth is a taut line, your lips devoid of their usual vibrant tint.

Lyney doesn’t like that being his last memory before the curtain closes.

When you step out of the Opera House, an infinity of starfields is abloom across the crepuscular skies.

What a mockery; a cruel jinx on display, for you to see the unfulfilled sparks dimming inside your heart.

A sigh escapes your dry lips, a small cloud forming when it meets the late night chill.

“You’ll catch a cold there, mon coeur,” Someone you know, tricks and all, utters behind you.

Welcome warmth tinted in lavender envelops you the instant your eyes meet the magician’s starry ones.

A small smile tugs at your lips, the curse of melancholy still clinging to you through it.

“Lyney…” You start. The twilit breeze picks up around you, your arms instinctively wrapping around yourself for some semblance of a warmth you haven’t felt in days.

“That won’t do, ma chérie.” Your lover chuckles.

Then, with a wave of his hand, a piece of the night sky itself seems to become tangible in his grasp.

“Here,” he offers, draping it over your shoulders.

Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s a shawl; the cloth feels delicate to the touch, quite fine too, and yet, you feel the warmth of a thousand suns. If you had to describe its color you would come up empty. Silver glitter seems to be embedded in the fabric, but at the same time, it looks like multiple tiny lights had been stitched to the material. You suppose you’d call the hue, dark; a myriad of indigoes merge into violets, threaded together with navies and cobalts. And yet, when you move it, the colors seem to shift, almost like the clouds drifting across this midnight.

“I take it you liked it.” Lyney smiles, softer than his usual cheshire-like grins, when he observes your wonderstruck features.

“Very…” You muse, awestruck at the magical silk.

“It’s a châle de ciel,” your beloved explains, “It will change depending on the state of the sky at each time of day.” He pauses, eyes, the color of lumidouce bells and rainbow rose petals merged, glinting as he admires how the garment fits you. “But I can guarantee,” your illusionist steps closer to you, plucking something out of your hair. “That it will always keep you comfortable… warm or cool, whatever you need.” He finishes, handing you a pluie lotus.

You take a few seconds to appreciate the second gift of the night. The flower’s petals are the same color as Lyney’s eyes, yet not as vivacious.

“Shall we go, mon amour?” Your boyfriend inquires, already offering your arm to him.

Together, you leave the opera house behind.

You hope for light blues on your new cape tomorrow morning. And somehow, you know that’s what you’ll find.

You squeeze Lyney’s arm gently. The sun will rise soon.

✧ ALBEDO

When he sets foot on his camp in Dragonspine, Albedo finds the heater already on.

Strange.

The sun hasn’t even quite awoken yet, the snowy peaks outlined against skies still clinging to dreamless cloudy nights; shards of ice, embedded in the softness of dawn clouds. An accurate representation of the region of freedom’s snowy mountains: menacingly beautiful, brimming with lethal charm, for one step in the wrong direction, and the cold might as well consume you for good.

At this hour, no one was ever already working at his lab, making of these moments calm sunrise-tinted memories in the alchemist’s mind, before the day’s hustle and bustle began.

However, today, the running heater is not the only out of the ordinary salutation to greet the chalk prince.

The acute sounds of clicking vials, books being rearranged and crunching snow are confirmation enough that he is, indeed, not alone.

With silent steps, Albedo advances, keeping one hand hovering over his trusty sword. Then, he finally lays eyes upon the cause for the commotion, and despite the lack of danger, the sight doesn’t calm him any better.

“My dearest?” He calls. The instant your gaze meets his, your condition scares him more than any bandits ransacking his research material. Your hair is messy, falling on your face; dark circles are etched beneath your lower lashline, darkness clinging to you like remnants of turbulent nights; and you’re shivering, whether from the cold or because you’re distempered he can’t quite discern, although it’s most likely due to both.

“Hello, ‘Bedo…” You mutter, the flesh of your lips bitten, flecks of Dragonspine’s freeze coating them, the cold lacing with your bones, chilling you to the core. Your eyes widen when you notice your lover’s teal gaze scrutinizing you. You quickly busy yourself with classifying some potions, by color and texture, whatever takes the longest for him not to worry about your less than ideal condition.

However, perhaps you underestimated his attention to detail; for he has a skilled artist, after all.

“My love, are you feeling alright?” He questions, gloved hands gently taking the crystal vial-filled wooden box you were carrying off your trembling hold.

And in that instant, you don’t know if it’s the warmth of your prince’s hands on yours; or the comfort of his voice, like honey on bitter tea, but you find yourself taking a deep breath, the fresh air of a midwinter’s sunrise filling your lungs.

And then you talk. You spill every worry and bad dream, your shadows opening up to the gilded starlight of him.

And through it all, the alchemist’s hands warm yours, fingers interlocked, very much in the way your souls are undeniably so too.

Because no matter how daunting the river seemed when you faced it alone, when you were with Albedo, its typhoons calmed down, stone bridges and his outstretched hand painting safety and comfort in hues of gold before your eyes.

While the kreideprinz grounds you, the sun reaches its peak, a canvas of aureate and cornflower blue grazing the mountaintops.

You would be okay.

✧ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU

Emerald eyes read through you as if you were made of clear glass.

The way you worry your lower lip between your teeth; your fingers almost going white at the knuckles as you clutch a pencil, its wood creaking in your grip; and the general absentminded state you’re in, papers scattered over your desk, several case files stacked in disarray.

Something is clearly weighting on your mind.

“I think a break’s in order, wouldn't you agree, sweetheart?” Heizou suggests, standing up, those striking eyes of his fixed on you.

The detective’s voice is enough to stop the quickening clock ticking in your mind, regrets and dark spirals momentarily coming to a halt.

When you rise your furrowed brow, shades of maroon and viridian flood your sight, vivid as summer and warming your up just as much.

Nodding, you stand up too, limbs feeling heavy despite the comfort of your lover beside you.

The brown shades of your office turn into blue skies and soft pink sakuras not long after, the scented tree branches swaying above you, like fragments of dreams someone had given up on, waiting to be picked up by another soul who dared to imagine.

Your back rests against your lover’s lean but strong torso, the sweet smelling breeze combing through your hair, as Heizou’s chin rests on your shoulder.

“So will you tell me what’s wrong, darling?” Are the words of his that break the birdsong-filled calm.

A pang settles on your chest, you didn’t want to take away that cheeky grin that most of the time decorated his quick-witted lips.

“I…” You hesitate. “Well, it’s- it’s complicated, Heizou…” Your lids flutter closed, a shaky breath raking through you, as you turn around in his embrace, your hands bracing on his shoulders. “I don’t want to bring the mood down, you know…”

The detective places a thumb on your lower lip, smoothing over the bite marks you left there earlier.

“You never, ever, bring the mood down, dear. Never.” He leans in, brushing a soft kiss over your forehead. “My intuition told me right away there was something up.” He takes a stray cherry blossom petal from your hair. “So, why don’t we take the rest of the day off, love?” Your partner proposes, as he takes your chin in between his fingers, mischief flashing in his features.

And perhaps your lover’s smile was more infectious than you had ever given it credit for; and maybe the way he flashes his green eyes at you has your heart trembling in ways that have nothing to do with the fear and guilt you’ve been festering, but you find yourself retorting back, with a grin of your own:

“Don’t you have cases to solve, detective Shikanoin?”

This time, he takes a full sakura flower, delicately placing it behind your ear.

“I have something more important to solve right here…” He smirks, cheekily, as he admires your now flustered expression.

When you lean the side of your head against his chest, he cradles it with one of his hands, the other playing with the ends of your hair.

It would be unfair, if gloom were to take your soul captive when spring seems to linger through Inazuma’s breeze.

With a last look at you, the detective’s maroon lashes flutter closed too. He hopes, at least for today, he managed to protect precious you from the crimes of cruel sorrow.

He leans his head on top of yours.

The case is solved.

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.1

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Ch Notes: Minor character death, Near death experience, Parental Neglect/Abuse, Graphic descriptions of violence

Summary: The passing of your older brother forever changed your relationship with your parents. After a particularly brutal incident with your mother, the Maximoffs welcome you into their home.

An: It's been a minute, but I said I was coming back with a vengeance. I've already got multiple chapters of this drafted so be ready for weekly releases. Thanks for sticking around and I hope you enjoy this series!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Often the word delicate is used interchangeably with fragile. The only main difference is an obvious and inherent beauty that comes with something delicate. Something fragile on the other hand is viewed as predominantly breakable. Glass is fragile while a flower is delicate. Some items have a duality to them like a vase or feelings.

You were fragile.

Not entirely frail, there was some strength to your bones. It was more so from your unwillingness to be perceived as weak than anything else that kept you semi-strong. You were aware that life could be unkind, but also knew that it took pity on no one. There would be no exceptions made for you, no matter how much your mind craved it.

You were young when you learned the cruelty of life. The memory lives in your mind as clearly as the day it happened. It was summer, the sun was high in the sky, beaming down ferociously on your hometown. It was well over 90 degrees, the perfect weather for swimming. Your parents suggested that you and your brother get in the pool to cool off.

Lucas was wearing blue trunks while you had on a black and white one piece. He was 12 and you were 8, merely children. Left unsupervised, you played in water as you always had with each other.  You couldn’t swim so you always stayed on the shallow side of the pool.

After spending the majority of the day in the pool, you wanted to get out. You hoisted yourself out of the pool by the side, instead of going to the steps. You were successful in getting out of the pool. It was walking along the side of the pool that made you slip. Your head hit the cement and you felt your body hit the water.

You couldn’t recall much from there. The rest had been recounted to you more times than you could remember. You sank 12 feet to the bottom of the pool. Lucas hadn’t noticed immediately but once he did, he sprang into action.

He could swim, but he wasn’t a strong swimmer. Regardless he swam to the bottom of the pool to retrieve you. He found you there unconscious blood surrounding the water by your head. On the darkest days you speculated about the moment he knew that he was losing air.

He was only 12, but he used his strength to get you out of the water. You had laid on the cement unconscious, while your brother passed out in the pool water. By the time your parents decided to check on you, your head was resting in a puddle of its own blood on the concrete and your brother was face down in the pool.

They called 911 and by some miracle, you had survived. Lucas didn’t make it. You could never forget the look on your parents’ face when they told you. The pity in your father’s eyes and the hatred in your mother’s.

You could recall nearly every time your mother said you killed your brother. It was her favorite thing to throw in your face. She said it so much that it was hard not to believe it.

Your father would argue with her for talking to you this way. It never led to anything other than a screaming match between the two. It only took a few months for divorce papers to be filed. With the divorce papers came a nasty custody battle. The courts decided on 50/50 as your mother became the actress of the century claiming that she couldn't stand to lose another child.

Handling her cruelty forced you to toughen up. The words she spoke to you were nothing compared to the violence she inflicted against you. The bruises were endless with her. Even when you grew taller and stronger than her, she'd taken to throwing things at you.

When you were with your father things were calmer, but he worried a lot. So, you spent a lot of time alone when you stayed with him. It was better than your mother's and you were always grateful for that even though you wished he was more present.

The only thing that helped soften your reality was your friend Pietro. You met him in high school. He knew about everything. He was your only friend, the only person who had taken a liking to your semi-stoic personality. You were by no means an open book, but Pietro showed that he could be trusted. So, you found yourself telling him about your life.

He hated the way you lived. Any time he could, he’d invite you to his place to remove you from your situation. You gladly took his house as a safe haven. His family was affluent. He lived in a home with too many rooms to count. It was a stark difference from either of your parents homes. His family was also the most caring group of people you had ever known. It was evident after the first few visits that they had taken quite a liking to you.

It took you a long time to understand just how much the Maximoff’s cared for you. There was one instance that solidified how much you meant to them.

“Y/n, come over later tonight. Mama misses you, she said she'd make your favorite,” the then 16-year-old Pietro commented as you exited school grounds.

“I’ll try, but this is my mom’s week.”

Pietro frowned, “That just means you should come over earlier.”

You gave him a sad smile, “You know I want to, it’s just- you know how she is.”

His jaw clenched, “Abusive.”

Your gaze lingered on the floor. You heard him sigh loudly before you felt his arms wrapped securely around you. His chin rested on top of your head as he hugged you like you were going to disappear. You fight the urge to say that you were sorry, he hated when you apologized for no reason.

“I’m sorry, you know I just don't want you getting hurt,” he mumbles into your hair.

“I know,” your voice was smaller than you liked it to be. Pietro always found a way to show your more vulnerable side.

He released the hug and looked at you with soft eyes, “Be safe, Y/n.”

You nodded curtly, “I will.”

The walk home was as anxiety provoking as it always was. Dread filled your body as you approached the run-down apartment complex. You tried to be quiet as you entered your mother’s apartment.

“Well, where have you been all day?” You knew that tone indicated that your mother was already drunk.

“School,” you answered shortly, attempting to continue to your room.

“Don’t walk away when I'm talking to you,” her words made you freeze in your tracks.

There was venom in her glare as she looked at you, “Lucas would've been in his second year of college this year, if you weren't so fucking careless.”

You inhaled slowly, knowing there was nothing you could respond to her with.

“Probably would've been top of his class. He would've had friends and a girlfriend, but because of you he's been rotting in the ground for 8 years because of you.”

You balled up your hands into fists, digging your nails into the skin of your palm. You needed something to ground you, to keep you from crying as your mother continued to speak.

“If he could see you now, he would regret saving your life. You’re stupid, you’re ugly, and you’re disgusting. Still dressing like a little boy at your age, like the sinner I know you are.”

You couldn’t hold your tongue, “He wouldn't even recognize you, you drunk piece of shit.”

She slapped you, “Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”

Your cheek stung and your gaze hit the floor.

“You should've died instead. You’re hardly even a girl, we could've had another daughter.”

You couldn't take it anymore. Walking away from her, you went to your room.  She followed you, but that didn't deter you from throwing all of your things into a duffle bag.

“Where do you think you're going?”

You ignored her and continued to grab the things you cared for.  She screamed more as you packed but you didn't give her an answer. Once you were done, she was stood in your doorway with a wild look in her eyes.

“Leaving,” is all you said as you roughly pushed past her.

“Did you just put your hands on me?”

Her tone was hysterical. You kept moving through the apartment calmly.  It wasn’t until she threw a glass bottle at the wall near you that you flinched. It shattered right by your head. Glass shards flew towards your face, and you felt one slice through your cheek.

You weren’t stunned by her actions. She had done this before in her drunken rage. The glass shattering was just what she needed to get within arms reach of you. Her bony fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly. You hissed at the feeling, knowing there would be bruising.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” she attempted to pull you back, but you were stronger than her.

You pried her fingers off of your wrist. The freedom didn’t last for long as she grabbed a fistful of your hair, using it to slam you backwards onto the ground. While you were on the ground, she kept one hand wrapped in your hair as she started to stomp and kick you.

The pain was immense. You struggled against her, trying to find her hand that was holding your hair. When you found it, you grabbed her arm similarly to how she had grabbed yours. You squeezed as hard as you could, and you heard her shriek. Her grip on your hair dropped and as soon as it did you pushed the woman away from you.

“No one wants you; no one cares about you. You don’t even have anywhere to go, you worthless fucking murderer,” your mother stood still where you pushed her to. She tried to bluff you and you knew it.

“Anywhere is better than here,” you rushed for the door.

She threw one more bottle near the exit and you felt a sharp pain in your side, but you kept moving. Your entire body was burning, but you didn’t stop moving.

You let your feet carry you until you realized you were standing in front of the Maximoff’s house. Usually, you'd text Pietro and he'd get the door for you, but instead you rapidly knocked on the door before ringing the bell.

You didn't wait too long before the door swung open, revealing Pietro’s older sister, Wanda. She looked happy to see you until she noticed your state.  She gasped silently before gently pulling you into the house. You could hear the light family chatter happening in the dining room.

Wanda took your bag from you and led you to the rest of the family. Fear coursed through your veins as your heart started to pick up speed. You didn’t want them to see you like this. Wanda sensed this shift in you and spoke.

“We’re going to help, I promise,” her words were few but there was a conviction in them.

You took a deep breath and let her take you into the room with the others. When they saw you, the chatter stopped. Your eyes locked on to Pietro’s. There was a fire in his eyes as he looked at you.

His voice was shaky as he spoke, “She did this to you?”

That’s all it took for you to burst into tears. You collapsed into Wanda’s arms, and she held you upright.

“Wanda, Flora, take her upstairs get her cleaned up and prep a room for her. Pietro, come with me,” Dragos softly ordered his wife and kids.

Without much effort Wanda picked you up and carried you to the upstairs bathroom, her mother trailed behind her. Wanda sat you on the bathroom counter before rummaging through a few cabinets.

“Mama, I can patch her up while you get the room ready,” Wanda said, already prepping to help you.

Flora left the room, leaving just you and Wanda. You were hardly there; your eyes were cloudy as Wanda looked into them. She could tell you were far away.

“Y/n, I need to know where you’re hurt. I see you’ve got a cut on your face and some bruising on your arm, anything else sweetheart?”

You were hesitant and Wanda saw you fiddling with the end of your shirt. Her hands were delicate as they rested on top of yours, “You’re hurt under there?”

You nodded slightly.

“Can I take a look?” Her eyes looked into yours begging for permission.

You lifted the shirt up not only to reveal a bruise forming but a shard of glass sticking out of your side. It was like seeing the glass triggered something in you as more tears began flooding down your face.

“I’m going to fix it ok, sweetheart. You can trust me. It might hurt a little, but you’ll feel loads better after.”

The most painful part was Wanda removing the glass. Your hands gripped the counter until your knuckles were turning white. The red head talked you through everything she was doing, which gave you a little comfort. She also praised you for being as still as possible as she knew how much this was hurting. Though she imagined it wasn’t worse than the wounds being inflicted.

Once she was done, you felt a lot better. You could tell that she wanted to ask you something by the way her eyes wouldn’t leave your figure.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes locked on to her eyes. They were a soft green tone; they held a certain warmth to them. It was easy to get lost in them.

You hummed in response to her.

“Can I ask, what happened?”

Your thumb tapped the pads of your fingers and you focused on them as you answered Wanda, “My mom got mad at me because I wanted to leave. “

You saw Wanda’s jaw clench and it was almost identical to Pietro’s from earlier in the day, “She’s never going to lay a finger on you again.  We’re going to protect you.”

Leaning forward slightly you rested your head on her shoulder. She smelled good and it calmed your nerves. She let you stay in that position until there was a knock on the door.

“I brought some pajamas and towels for a shower. Do you think you'll need help or can I steal this one for a moment,” Mrs.Maximoff peaks through the door.

Wanda looked at you for an answer, “I can do it myself.”

The older woman sent you a small smile, “Very good dear. Just holler if you need anything.”

Wanda paused before she exited the bathroom, “After your shower I'm going to bandage your torso, ok? Be gentle around the tender areas.”

“Thank you, Wanda,” she smiled at your words and left at that.

When you were finally alone with your thoughts, your tears began to fall again. You let the hot water of the shower cascade down your back. The stinging sensation felt good on your skin. The words your mom said were echoing through your head. You knew they wouldn't be going away any time soon.

While you showered Pietro gave his family some insight into your life. He had told them your brother died in an accident and your mother blamed you. He spoke briefly about your father’s busy working schedule but went into details about your mother’s abuse.

Even the short version of events was heartbreaking to the family.

Flora met her husband’s eyes, “She can’t go back there Dragos.”

He nodded his head in agreement, “She’s not.”

There was a dangerous look in Wanda’s gaze, “What’re we going to do about that bitch?”

Dragos looked at his daughter with a slight smile on his lips, “We’re going to take care of her. She’s not going to bother Y/n, ever again, unless she's got a death wish.”

“If she’s going to stay here, she needs to know the truth,” Pietro said looking down at the table.

“What good would that do her? She’s already had enough,” Wanda defended.

Pietro’s glare matched Wanda’s, “She’s my best friend and we all know there’s a danger that comes with being in this household. If she’s at risk to be hurt, then she deserves to know, and I will tell her.”

“We can keep her safe without her knowing,” Wanda argued back.

“I am not lying to her,” Pietro said with finality.

Wanda scoffs, “You have for all this time, what’s the difference?”

Pietro slammed his fist down on the table, “I would’ve told her from the start if it was an option. She has barred her soul to me, entrusted me with her deepest fears and secrets, you don’t know her like I do.”

“I know she came here barely able to talk, a piece of glass lodged in her side, a cut under her eye, her entire midsection is a bruise. “

“That doesn't mean she doesn’t deserve to know the truth.”

Neither of them was backing down.

“The truth about what?”

The family shifted their attention to you. Pietro crossed his arms over his chest while looking at his family expectantly. Wanda turned her attention to her father to see what he would do.

It was actually Flora who spoke, “Y/n if you’re going to be staying with us there is something we must tell you dear.”

Pietro started, “Remember when you saw my house for the first time and asked what my parents did?”

Wanda rolled her eyes at Pietro’s prolonging of the situation, “Y/n we’re a part of a crime syndicate.”

Dragos quickly corrected Wanda, “We aren’t just a part of it. I’m in charge of it. We aren't so bad either, we do a lot for the community.”

You wanted to laugh, but they looked so serious. They were waiting for your reaction, but you were still processing. This clearly wasn't a joke.

“Ok,” was all that you could muster up.

“Do you get what we’re saying dear?”

You nodded slowly. “You’re criminals,” your eyes cut over to your best friend, “All of you?”

Pietro tore his eyes away from you.

Wanda saw the hurt in her brother’s eyes and tried to take over, “Beyond criminals, Y/n we’re the same Maximoff family that you know. We care about you and your safety. We would never let any harm come to you.”

“Do I have to be involved with that stuff?” You questioned.

The family all eyed Dragos, seemingly searching for an answer of their own. His eyes met yours, “I will never make you do anything you don't want to do. However, if this is something you're interested in all you have to do is ask.”

You took in a deep breath, before exhaling, “Thank you for letting me stay.”

Flora shook her head, “You’re family Y/n.”

For once that night you held back the tears. You let Wanda redress your wounds and then went to bed. Sleep came easier than it should’ve, you believed the Maximoff's when they said you were safe. That was the first time in your life where you felt delicate and not fragile. However, things change consistently, and life moves fast, even faster when you’re entangled with the biggest crime family in New York City.

[lialacleaf]

To Care For A Woman

Chapter 2

Simon Riley X Reader

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not...

Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception, I'm sorry it's unedited...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Reader POV

You were swimming in a deep pool of black, waves of some syrupy feeling caressing your mind, interrupted by the occasional pinch or sting. You felt the black ebbing away, replaced by the metallic smell of blood and the sting of bright lights in your eyes. You let out a sharp whine as the pinch became an agonizing, burning pain in your left knee.

A choked sob followed as you slowly regained your awareness. You were laying in a hospital bed, and a medic was carefully redressing your injured leg.

“Where’s Lieutenant Ghost?” You asked, remembering how he’d been shot down aiding you in your escape.

“Busy. Said he’d come by once you were awake to deliver the news.”

Your brow furrowed. The news? What could that possibly mean? You couldn’t be in trouble for the mission having gone bad. Your lip trembled as the medic finished their work and left.

Maybe Ghost had been right to leave you out of missions before. The pain in your leg was agonizing, and you wanted to curl into a ball and cry. You were all alone in a place you didn’t belong, and you were suffering, but all you could feel was anger at yourself. Anger that you just weren't good enough for the job.

A small part of you wanted to call home, but you couldn’t bare the thought of putting anymore stress on your parent’s shoulders.

You felt helpless, more so than usual, and you couldn’t stop the shaking in your hands. A knock sounded, drawing a shaky gasp from you lips.

You felt you shoulders tremble as the imposing figure of your Lieutenant quietly slipped into the room.

Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the black sweatshirt he wore. He simply stared at you through the holes in his mask, not saying a word.

You felt a shudder run down your spine as he took a step closer, holding out a tan folder to you.

“What’s this?” You asked, your hands trembling as you reached for it.

“Your discharge paperwork,” he answered curtly.

“From the hospital?” You asked, your voice wavering.

“From the 141.”

Your stomach dropped. “No,” you pleaded, voice wavering. “No, Ghost…please, no,” you begged, fighting back the tears threatening to run down your cheeks and expose the turmoil of your heart.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said sternly as you opened the file. “Have it signed by the end of the day-“

“It wasn’t my fault!” you interrupted, your lip quivering. “I did everything right! Please, you can’t do this to me.”

“This isn’t about the mission,” he stated gruffly. “This is about your injuries. You’ll be lucky to walk on that leg again. You’re unfit for duty.” His eyes bore into you with an intensity that made you shudder.

“You don’t understand, I don’t have anywhere to go. I can do other things, work in the office, do paperwork-“

“I’ve already spoken with Price. You don’t have high enough clearance for that,” he stated softly. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy for you. You both did. You were just a rookie. You’re pension would be little to nothing, and your injury would make it even harder for you to find a way to support yourself.

Ghost watched carefully as you took a shallow breath, a few stray tears sliding down your cheeks. “Are you happy now?” You asked with a thick swallow. “I know you didn’t want me here in the first place,” you accused.

It didn’t matter that you had saved his life, and quite possibly sacrificed any quality your own would have had otherwise. “You should have just left me there,” you whispered, and Ghost stiffened.

Silence hung in the air and your throat burned as you tried not to burst into tears.

“I’ll work somethin’ out for you,” he said gruffly, as if he was uncomfortable making you such a promise.

“You said Price made his decision-“

“I’ll work somethin’ else out,” he clarified. “Get those papers signed,” he said, turning on his heel and leaving you to shake your head and quietly sob into you hand.

~

Simon’s POV

He couldn’t watch you cry. The idea of your little sobs took him right back to that night that he thought he was going to watch you bleed out on the way to the hospital.

He’d considered yelling at you for what you had done, but then his mother’s frightened face flashed in his mind, and his stomach dropped. He didn’t want to be his father, didn’t want to be the man that made a helpless woman cry or feel fear from his presence. He wanted to make sure you never had to cry ever again, and he was about to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe and sound.

“You’re bloody mad, Simon,” Johnny said as he looked at the piece of paper he’d had prepared that afternoon. “Hope it works out.”

He hoped so too. More than he was willing to verbally admit to the Scotsman.

If you didn’t agree to it, there was nothing more he could do to help you. But he wasn’t going to let you just slip through his fingers without trying.

Reader’s POV

You cried for every medic that walked into your room, despite telling yourself over and over again that you wouldn’t. Something about watching them tend to your leg made the situation too real.

It was lonely in the hospital room, and the hum of the air conditioner was starting to give you a headache. Or maybe that was from all the crying you’d done.

A small part of you was scolding yourself for wasting time being emotional when what you really needed to be doing was making a plan. You needed to figure out your next steps before the hospital politely kicked you off base.

You couldn’t even walk, and there would be no one to care for you during your recovery. How the hell were you supposed to survive?

He didn’t even knock before entering, and you were quick to wipe your checks as Ghost approached your bed at a steady pace, another damn tan folder in his hands.

“More bad news?” You asked bitterly.

He let out a deep chuckle in response. “Depends on how you look at it.” His accent was thick, and you couldn’t help but catch the tinge of nervousness in his voice. It had to be bad for Ghost to be rattled.

“I’ve got a…friend, and he’s willing to help you out.”

He placed the folder gently in your lap and flipped it open. You felt your chest tighten and your eyes narrowed in confusion.

A marriage certificate. It was a marriage certificate with your name on it. “What is this?” you asked.

“A way out.”

“Really?” you asked incredulously. “Cause it seems like a nasty joke! Who the hell even is Simon Riley?”

“Does it matter? He’s agreed to take care of you,” Ghost muttered.

Indeed he had. His portion of the certificate was signed and dated. “In return for what?” You asked bitterly, voice thick with emotion.

Ghost clicked his tongue softly and sighed. “I wouldn’t send you somewhere potentially unsafe,” he assured you, brown eyes boring into you as he tilted his head to the side.

“I have a feeling you’d send me anywhere if it meant you never had to see me again.”

You could tell he was frowning at you under that mask, and you swallowed thickly. He’d never exactly been kind to you, but not unkind either. He’d simply excluded you, making it harder to have anyone on your side.

“You got another option I don’t know about?” He asked, holding a ballpoint pen out to you expectantly.

You stared at the object for a moment, feeling your lip begin to quiver again. No. Not in front of him. You snatched the pen from his grasp and hastily scribbled your name down, sucking in a deep breath as you did so.

“Atta’ girl,” he praised, patting you on the shoulder. You handed him the paperwork without meeting his gaze. He must have thought you to be a sell-out, that you were pathetic. Maybe you were. You just hoped you hadn’t made a terrible mistake with this Simon Riley.

AN: well, well, well. I hope you’re all on the edge of your seats! Thank you to everyone that has been interacting so far, I can’t explain how much that means to me! Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list! Thank You!

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Gosh, I think that's everyone. I think some of y'all have settings that didn't allow me to tag you so I apologize if you don't get a notification. I did my best. Also, my dyslexia had a helluva time with some of the names XD Love you guys! Thanks again for your support! &lt;3

[tasteleeknow]

[ 5:10 ] "It's raining," he whispers as he strokes your hair softly.

It's your favourite kind: morning rain. It seals you inside, seals both you and Minho inside your small apartment together. You haven't been awake long, 10 minutes or so—waking to the gentle brush of his fingers against your temple.

"Mm," you hum. "I can hear."

"Should we stay in?" he asks. A rare day off for both of you.

You nuzzle into his neck in response, burying yourself into him. There's no where you'd rather be.

He's quiet after that, both of you lulled by the heavy rain. Your head rises and falls with each breath he takes. You're just about to lose consciousness again when his soft voice pulls you to the surface. "Should we go swimming?" he asks.

You lift your head, taken aback by his question. His eyes are closed.

"Swimming?"

He hums.

"In the rain?"

"Why not?" he questions. "The pool is heated."

It was a very nice pool. You hadn't had the opportunity to use it much at all since moving in. But why would a rainy day be the time to break out of that?

"We'll have it to ourselves," Minho says, voice still a little croaky from sleep.

Ah. He always got a little nervous at the pool when others were around, a little embarrassed at his attempts to join you in the deep end. He'd watch from the edge, his legs dangling into the water—watching the children dive and splash like it was as easy as walking.

"Alright," you mumble with a quick kiss to his shoulder. "Let's go swimming."

—

He's laughing when you throw your already damp towel aside and jump into the warm water, desperate to escape from the cold. When you resurface he's laying it out over the back of a chair, out of the rain.

You watch when he lowers himself into the pool, taking the steps at the shallow end casually—like he isn't feeling the cold at all.

You meet him just as he's submerged up to his chest, wrapping your legs around his torso and clinging to him tightly. He wraps his arms around you in return, holding you to him as you wet his shoulders with the warm water—scooping small handfuls over him. His hair is quickly sticking to his temples, the rain still falling heavy.

"Warm?" he asks.

You nod, pushing some of the wet hair from his face. "Have you been swimming in the rain before?"

"No," he says. Then, after short pause, "It's nice."

He tips his head back, closing his eyes as the heavy droplets fall across his face.

"I love you," you mutter, a little absent-mindedly.

It takes him a few blinks to get the water from eyes, before he's able to return your gaze. "Really?" he asks with a small smirk. "You sure?"

"You're supposed to say 'I love you, too'."

He closes his eyes, dropping his head back to the sky. "Mm, okay. I love you, too," he says casually.

His neck is bared, small droplets making lazy paths down to his clavicles. You bite into his neck, not hard, just enough to satisfy. It's the only reasonable thing to do, really.

He tightens his arms around you before he moves, walking you the few steps it takes to reach the edge of the pool. When you're pushed up against the wall, he speaks, "Do you bite everyone you love?"

You shake your head a little. "Only you."

He blinks a little in an attempt to clear the rain from his eyes, his long lashes only capable of holding so much water back.

"Only me?"

"Is it a deal breaker?" you say with a small smile.

"Depends," he says, boxing you in with both arms to the side of the pool. "Why only me?"

"Because you overwhelm me. What else am I supposed to do?"

He leans forward, pressing his torso into yours. "I have ideas."

You tuck some wet hair behind his ear. "Of course you do," you say with a breathy laugh. "You're so smart."

You catch his tiny smile before his lips are on yours.

[vixstarria]

Down by the river

Stand-alone, but takes place immediately after Mark me as yours

Astarion and Tav spend a night by the river, away from camp

Astarion x f!Tav, Astarion x f!Reader

18+ but I wouldn't call it smut, fluff and humour until you get smacked in the face with some trauma I guess, banter, pining, sexual references, oral sex

TW: trauma

I couldn't decide on a POV so I alternate Tav and Astarion in each section. "But Vix, why didn't you just write in 3rd person?" you might ask. Well, because I like really getting into their heads, and because shut up, that's why. It's pretty obvious which section is whose. You got this.

Approx. 2,000 words

“Come see me later tonight, there’s something I want to show you,” Astarion murmured to you as he passed by, lightly brushing your hip with his hand.  

You thought you’d already seen all he had to show by then. Still, you were curious.  

It turned out to be a ‘where’, not a ‘what’.  

“Stay here,” he told you, at the edge of the bank. “Don’t turn around until I tell you to.” 

He then disappeared somewhere in the trees behind you. Or so you assumed. He could be eerily silent when he wanted to be. 

You were a bit perplexed, truth be told. Astarion had turned out to be all talk and no show when it came to any kind of romantic gestures that didn’t directly involve sex. It couldn’t be that. Were you supposed to see something out on the water? It looked perfectly ordinary. Some kind of ridiculous prank, perhaps..? That would be right up his alley. 

You were starting to feel a bit stupid standing by yourself at the edge of the bank. Did he just walk away..? 

“Astarion, if you’re about to make another dramatic shirtless appearance from behind a tree, I swear-” 

It was dramatic alright. You didn’t hear him until he was a step behind you, flying towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind mid-sprint and sweeping you sideways into the river along with him. He’d taken the time to take his own clothes off, of course, and yours were now drenched. The prick.  

“You asshole, what if I didn’t know how to swim?!” you spat as you resurfaced next to him 

He just laughed. 

“Why I’d swiftly come to your rescue, darling.” 

Realization hit you.  

“...Shouldn’t you be melting..? Or disintegrating, or whatever it is that happens to your kind in running water?” Another gleeful toothy grin. “...Tadpole?” 

“Tadpole,” he nodded, making his way towards a spot shallow enough for your feet to touch the riverbed, as you followed. “I only discovered this earlier today.” 

“Awww... And you immediately had to find me and go ‘Mom, mom, look what I can do!’”  

You dove again just as he went to splash you in the face.  

“Adorable,” she smiled, once she re-emerged in front of you. 

“What is?” 

“You in moments when you look genuinely happy,” she said, removing her clothes and throwing them onto the bank. “Fangs peeking out from behind your lips, all murder and mischief.” 

You found yourself at a brief loss for words as she finished taking her clothes off and turned back to you, throwing her arms around your neck and wrapping her legs around your hips, clutching on to you weightlessly in the water. 

“I like seeing you happy...” 

Something in your chest clenched. 

No, no, no, no, no, this is not how this is supposed to work. 

Your body followed its instincts and you drew her into a kiss, hands roaming her thighs and hips under the water. 

“You know, you really didn’t need to go through all that trouble, getting my clothes soaked through, to get me to take them off,” she murmured as your lips broke away from hers to trace her jaw. 

“Oh I know...” you purred. “I didn’t need to throw you into the river to get you soaked, either.” 

You kissed her mouth again, grinning, to muffle the sounds of her annoyed protest. 

Your usual script, all your usual lines had been rolling off her like, well, water. Frankly it was a breath of fresh air. She picked apart your words, expressed exaggerated dismay or tried to one-up you, turning it into a game – but still, she did exactly what you needed her to do. All that mattered was the end result, no? And if you could have fun with it, all the better, you thought. Even if it was... different. 

You hand slipped further, between her legs, teasing her exposed slit as she gasped and clung to you tighter. 

Yes, you thought. This was familiar. This you knew what to do with.  

“Let’s get out of the water,” you murmured to him.  

Sex in lakes, rivers and hot springs was much more appealing on paper than it was in reality.  

Apparently Astarion had taken the time to prepare a few things this time, including some sheets and blankets that laid next to a prearranged campfire. 

‘Ignis!’ He lit it, immediately setting it ablaze. Warmth at last, you thought, wiping yourself off.  

“Thoughtful of you to get some blankets this time,” you said, sinking down next to him, close to the fire, letting him pull you against him. 

“...Is this about the night at the clearing again?” he asked, his eyes narrowed. 

“What else?” 

“I’ll have you know, I am civilised and had a whole spread all of five meters away from where we ended up! We could’ve moved there if you’d only stopped being a complete animal for a few seconds,” he said with a mixture of amusement and indignation. 

“No, no you didn’t... Did you? Oh gods... Why didn’t say anything?!” You burst into laughter, sinking against his chest. 

“The way you were carrying on, I figured you must have been half wood elf and enjoyed having needles stuck in your ass!” 

Unbelievable... How bloody absurd. 

You lifted your head once you’d finally regained your composure, grinning at him. The way he looked back at you was so full of tenderness that you were momentarily taken aback. But it couldn’t be. Not with him. 

“Tsk... ‘Civilised’,” you murmured. “Who wants that?” 

You caught his lips in a kiss, then dipped lower, starting to slowly trail open-mouthed kisses down his neck and past his collarbone, leaving gentle teasing bites on your way down. His breath hitched as he sank with his back down onto the blankets, his fingers tensing on your back.  

You ran your tongue between the ridges of his muscles as you went lower, idly wondering what kind of magistrate kept in this kind of shape, if this really was the way he looked before he was turned. His skin felt like silk over the hardness of his muscles. 

“What are you doing, you naughty thing..?” he breathed, hoarsely. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” you purred. “Or is it that you don’t like it..?” He was already hard for you. You teased his cock with just your fingertips before taking it into your hand, continuing to slowly kiss and lick your way down. “But I think you do.” 

“Oh you have no idea...” he whispered. 

It’s not that you haven’t been on the receiving end of this before. It’s that when you were, it was usually some slobbering drunk that reeked of piss, whom you wouldn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole, much less have any body part inside of, disgusting and unpredictable, or when you were ordered to participate in some deranged bacchanalia you wanted no part of, with all its abasement and humiliation and having to act, always having to act, always the pretty boy, pretty 200 year old boy being passed around like some kind of doll, or the time with the- 

Oh for fuck’s sake, I just want to enjoy this! 

No one was forcing you to do this, this was your choice.  

‘...I like seeing you happy...’ 

It was her hand, it was her mouth, this was your choice. 

She wanted to pleasure you. She would never hurt you.  

‘...I like seeing you happy...’ 

Just fucking enjoy it, why can’t you just fucking enjoy it?! 

“Look at me, darling...” you reached down to touch her cheek with your fingertips.  

Anchor me... 

Astarion watched you for a while through his lashes, holding eye contact as you worked his cock with your mouth, before ultimately falling back and shutting his eyes. His hand moved to your hair, gripping it tightly. 

His whole body was wound up tight like a coil. You started to get the impression that he might push you away at any moment. Was he just over-sensitive..? You eased up the intensity of your motions – you would have stopped entirely, only he started to buck his hips, fucking your mouth as he groaned, the hand in your hair pushing and pulling on your head. 

Alright then, maybe not... 

You followed his lead until he started whispering something incoherent, jerking his hips more erratically. Before long, his grip on your hair tightened further, and he gasped your name several times, before finally spilling in your mouth.  

Never before has anyone made it seem like they were fighting for their life through what you thought was just a routine blowjob. You knew you weren’t that bad. Nor that good.  

Something told you you should call it a night.  

“Kiss me,” he whispered, pulling you back up, his hands wandering down before you stopped them. “No..?” 

He looked dazed. 

“Another time,” you said, kissing him lightly, before lying down in his embrace.  

“If that’s what you want,” he drawled. 

Nature got you there in the end, but the whole act was tainted, no matter how much you wanted to want it. You couldn’t ignore it or pretend you were unaffected anymore. Free, relatively safe, walking in the sun, leagues away from Baldur’s Gate, and still you were in a chokehold.  

You wanted to want it, gods how you wanted to... Maybe next time would be better? There would have to be a next time, wouldn’t there? 

You also wanted to scream. You hugged her tighter against you instead.  

Now put all this behind you and act normal, you wretch. 

You laid on his chest, gazing into the fire, edge of the blanket folded over the two of you. It was cozy and peaceful, and you could almost pretend that there was a semblance of normalcy to your life, and that you were just having a pleasant night with a lover. And that maybe you’d just imagined anything was off earlier.  

"You’re awfully quiet, what’s on your mind?” he asked, lightly tracing circles on your back.  

“Just contemplating the fact that blowing a vampire isn’t even the strangest thing I’ve done today,” you lied.  

Close enough. 

“We should head back I suppose, I doubt it’s safe out here in the open,” you said, reluctantly.  

“Darling, I assure you, I am the most dangerous creature to stalk the night in these parts,” he said in his usual flippant manner. 

“Yes, yes, you are a vicious, deadly beast,” you smiled. 

“Rawr,” he said matter-of-factly, as you buried your face in his neck in silent laughter. 

You slowly made your way back to the camp.  

You didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to lie awake, alone with nothing but your thoughts. She was contagious with her levity in her sweet ignorance, you didn’t want to part from her.  

“Did you end up fixing that teddy bear?” she asked. 

“Of course I did, did you think me incapable of mending a stuffed animal?” 

“Ah right, that’s why Karlach was chasing you around, threatening to hug you...” 

You chuckled. You’d never admit it, but you were actually growing fond of the hellish tiefling. She at least didn’t give you a wide berth like the others. 

“Can you do us all a favour and not leave me in camp wasting time on things like that all day again? I’m sure my skills would be more useful elsewhere.” 

I missed you. 

“Yes, Wyll and Gale did mention you were completely useless, if not downright destructive,” she smiled.  

You reached the camp and stood in front of your tent. Hers was further along.  

“I better go get some sleep,” she said.  

You gently pulled her against you by her waist, kissing her. 

Please just come in, stay with me, please... 

“Good night then,” your mouth said. 

“Night,” she whispered, before placing another soft kiss on your lips and walking away.  

Why didn’t I just pull her in after me..? Wretched idiot. 

Should’ve just made myself at home... Sigh. Fucking idiot... 

~~~~~

PS Astarion saying "rawr" is canon and I will stick it wherever I please.

Next in series - Something real

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Pst, anyone else - feel free to leave a comment if you'd like to be added to a tag list