#the last day the sun rose (and it never left the sky) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mydearlybeloathed · 4 months

Text

── 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑! 𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your people have a legend: mermaids only ever fall in love once. you never put much thought into it, until you come across a band of human pirates.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: romance dawn trio x mermaid!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: sleep who's she? ~7k baby (1.7k intro, 1.4k luffy, 2k nami, 1.9k zoro)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: my contribution to mermay... on the last day of may, it gets increasingly more unhinged, sanji kinda gets bullied, robin is carrying the last two relationships, my own made up mermaid courting rituals, biting, a bit of violence

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: i had this playlist on repeat while writing 🙆

The last island had warned the waters to come were infested with dark creatures of slithering scales and tempting voices. Creatures that pull you in deep and leave you out to dry a corpse. Born from seafoam, storms, and desire. Mermaids.

“Mermaids?” Zoro drawled.

“I met a mermaid once,” said Usopp, and everyone groaned unanimously. “She tried to take me down, but my charms were just too much, so she let me go.”

Everyone surely believed him, of course.

And of course the motley crew ignored every reservation and warning and sailed headfirst into the treacherous sea. At first, nothing at all was out of the ordinary. The morning fog hung tentatively over the water splashing at the ship's hull as it powered through. Sure, the sun could’ve shined a bit brighter through the thick clouds, but it was a lovely day for adventure.

Nami stood at the helm keeping an eye on the horizon, relishing in the breeze hitting her face, when you heard an odd buzzing in her ear. She swiped at the air and rubbed her ear on her shoulder, but the sound only grew louder. Puffing her cheeks, she turned to ask Sanji to get her the bug spray, when she noticed he too was messing with his ears.

She laid eyes on each of the crew scattered around the deck, enjoying the cool weather. Everyone shifted uncomfortably, faces screwing up as though in pain.

“Do you guys hear that?” she asked needlessly, gathering their attention.

Zoro cupped his ears, nodding. “Yeah, it’s like…”

“Buzzing,” Luffy finished. He kept swatting at the air, searching out for some fly assaulting him.

“No, it’s… it’s singing.” Sanji faced the waters, the words of the village folk coming back to him as his eyes widened. He whipped back around to lock eyes with Nami just as she put everything together too.

She gasped. “Mermaids.”

The ship rocked and the weather shifted drastically in seconds. Already thick clouds doubled in number, drawing close and creating a swirling mass in the sky. Waves rumbled and rose to crash over the deck, sending the crew into hysteria to grab their bearings.

And on top of it all, the most beautiful melody rose above the chaos, filtering into the ears of the crew and blocking all else out. Usopp’s hands slackened around the rope he held steady, eyes glazing over as he leaned toward the far off sound. Sanji’s eyes flickered up to the sky, roamed over the gray clouds, and fell to the waters below, his mind dizzied by the beauty and lithe of the voices. Zoro stumbled drunkenly over his own two feet, desire furling in the pit of his stomach, legs carrying him to the edge of the ship to catch a glimpse of the one singing to him. Luffy froze midclimb up to the crowsnest, head darting this way and that, mind clouded. Nami gritted her teeth, resolve formed to not give in to the angelic, mystifying, amazing song sung just for her—she left the helm unguarded, leaping to join her friends in calling out to the seas.

The crew’s voices overlapped in thier pleading for the woman to come near, to give them all that the song promised. Their every dream would come true, if only the mermaid would help them into the water. The pod of mermaids encircled the ship, their harmonies intertwining in one mind. The ship might have kept on drifting, guided by rough waters manipulated by the mermaids’ hand, and crashed right into the reef and all the crew would be scooped up by the she-beasts, thrust into the deep to drown,

If not for one voice which rose above the rest in a demanding, desperate order: “STOP!”

Instantly, the clouds parted and sun bled through. The song fell through to indignant shrieks, splashes dying down to ripples as shiny tails descended into the blue. Nami blinked awake, feeling hungover and headached, looking blearily out on the water. Vision clearing, she caught a sight she would never forget; a woman lain on the far rocks, a single beam of sun illuminating the vibrant scales running along her skin till they met at a tail dipping into the water.

The fact that their ship was headed right for those jagged rocks was an afterthought. She lurched back and sped into motion, barking out furious orders and smacking the men upside the head to push them into gear. Sanji stood frozen at the ship’s rail, gripping the wood in a vice, eyes glued to the creature. “Nami, it’s—”

“I know!” She gripped his shirt and whipped him around, slapping the side of his face a few times. “We’re going to crash!”

Sanji blinked, shook his head, and raced to grab a flinging rope, jumping high and tying in down in one swoop. Nami bolted to the steer, an eye out the window as she pulled with all her might to change their course. Usopp soon joined her, guiding the ship bit by bit to the left’s clear passage. She fell backward when Zoro’s shout reached them, “We’re clear!”

Risking a moment of peace, the navigator cupped her hands over her face, allowing her body to calm all its flighting-fighting instincts. The calm lasted for all of five seconds before the screaming began.

“Luffy! What—Why—What?!”

Nami sprang upright, locking eyes with Usopp, and the two sighed in unison before heading above deck. Whatever Nami expected, it wasn’t the terrified, shivering form of a mermaid baring her two fangs at a looming Luffy. The others stood a ways away, unsure what to do with themselves, but certain they didn’t want to get involved with this.

“Luffy!” Nami cried. “Did you drag her up here?”

Given the mermaid’s following hiss, Nami assumed that was the case. Luffy inched closer still, and the mermaid lost all her gusto, face falling as she scrambled away form him, dragging her tail behind her.

The mermaid was beautiful; that was the common thread of thought. Her damp hair hung all around her face, nearly covering her deep eyes. Scales creeped up her torso and faded into skin around her chest. Her every movement was caught by the sun, her scales shimmering rainbow reflections into the air around her.

“Stay back,” she hissed out, eyes narrowing upon Luffy. “Demon.”

Usopp scoffed, grabbing the mermaid’s sharp attention. “What, long-nose?”

Ruffling, chuckled awkwardly, he looked around at his friends for help, receiving nothing but raised brows. “I just mean—you’re the mermaid.”

The mermaid blinked slowly. She seemed to have forgotten the threat before her, all attention directed at a quivering Usopp. “I’m the demon? I’m the one who saved you. You think my people decided to let you live on their own?” She laughed, and the sound had a pretty ring to it. “No. I commanded them.”

Her eyes darted back to Luffy as he took to sitting criss-crossed in front of her. “I should have let you and this demon-child die on the rocks.”

It soon became obvious she knew Luffy ate a devil-fruit just by one look at him, and she was not happy about it. Luffy only tilted his head at her hostility, a little frown on his face. “Are all mermaids this rude?”

You balked, gaping before snapping your mouth shut, not dignifying him with a reply. Luffy persisted. “I like your tail. What do you mean you saved us? Why?”

Curling your tail closer to yourself, hands holding your upper body up, you glanced from the pirate captain to each of his crew. They didn’t look too threatening, but you’d learned long ago to never trust a human’s looks. Many a mermaid died on the grounds of humans looking nice. So Luffy’s question begged an answer. Why did you save them?

You shrugged a shoulder, eyes drifting out to sea. “My people need to eat.”

Usopp gulped. “We’re very gamy. You wouldn’t like us—”

“I wasn’t done speaking,” she quipped back, a brow raised. “Mers are carnivores by nature. Normally, we steer clear of humans.” You sneered at the word. “We find your kind to be a predator, and we’re a peaceful people.” The swordsman scoffed and rolled his eyes at that.

“But times have changed. The fish have fled this sea.” You took a deep breath, shakily letting it out. “My people are starving, and they look to me as their princess for guidance.” Quickly clearing your throat to hide how the topic gloomed you, you snapped, “All that is to say that I strictly forbade the hunting of humans despite the starvation. They disobeyed me. That is why I helped you.”

You faced them all as your tail began to glimmer even brighter, slowly but surely parting down the middle. Your face contorted slightly as your scales seemed to mold into your skin, leaving you bear before the crew of pirates. You shivered in the breeze, raising your gaze once more. “Any other questions?”

There seemed to be none, silence running around the deck, and you prepared to jump back into the water before your parents sent the guard to find you, when the demon-child spoke up.

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded, face taken by seriousness. “How do we bring the fish back?”

You blinked once, then twice, and then a third time for good measure, but nothing in his expression betrayed hilarity. He wasn’t pulling your fin. The devil-fruit eater meant to help you.

Demon. That’s what he was. You knew this fully well. It’s what your parents taught you from a young age. Devil-fruit eaters are the enemy of the sea, and thus the enemy of the mers. You’d followed this rule all your life… but then you looked at the one they called Luffy, you really looked at him right in his face… and none of that made any sense anymore.

Sure enough, Luffy led the charge against the oil corporation mining near your peoples’ home, threatening convincing them to move elsewhere. Within a few days of the miners’ departure, some mers managed to coax schools of fish back to their reefs. With the ecosystem and chain of life restored, the Straw Hat Pirates had no reason to stay.

And really, neither did you. What you did have, however, was a reason to go with the pirates. Adventure, the life you’d always dreamed of, away from the reef you’d felt tethered to for so long… and a certain member of the crew who had caught your rapt, undying attention.

There’s a legend that mermaids only fall in love once, never to find another who would fill the gap in their hearts. You would always call it foolish romance… but really, there might be something to it.

LUFFY

You were a goner the moment he offered to help you with those big, genuine eyes of his. As much as you tried to deny it—and you did try to deny it—you were falling in love with a human. A devil-fruit eater at that. What had you been reduced to?

And yet, there was no denying it. Especially not when you couldn’t bear to go an hour without laying eyes on him. Your mother said it was normal for mers to feel… possessive over the one who holds their affection, and that fact was not lost on you as you slithered through the water, approaching the pirate lazed out on the rocks he’d dragged you from about a week before.

Your eyes rose above the water first, little grin still below the surface. Luffy looked so relaxed, eyes on the clouds, every once in a while glancing at his crew on the anchored ship nearby. You braced your hands on the cool stone and launched yourself upward, fanged smile gleaming as water splashed Luffy’s legs. His laugh had you keening closer, dragging your tail along the rocks. Luffy grinned for all of two seconds before the seawater sunk in. Instantly drowsy, he tried to offer up another smile as you winced.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “I always forget.”

He laughed it off, already recovering as he shifted to face you. Luffy’s eyes followed your tail to where your fins dipped into the sea. “If only I could swim with you. Bet it’s fun.”

“If only.” You shared a smile for a little too long, but it never grew uncomfortable. Lingering in the moment, you gazed over at his ship, melancholy taking over as your smile faltered. “So… you’re leaving soon?”

“In the morning.” You clicked your tongue and tried your best to act nonchalant, failing miserably as you pursed your lips and combed through your hair.

“Why not tonight?” you offered with a tight grin. “You should get away as fast as possible. I don’t know how one becomes pirate king but it's not by sticking around a boring reef and its boring princess. Ha! I’ll even help bring your anchor up faster! Then you can be out by sundown.”

The silence crept up your spine, getting you all antsy as you lowered your gaze to the rippling waters. Shoulders tense, you could feel Luffy’s eyes on your profile as you picked at the algae along the rocks. He probably thought you were an idiot, rambling like that. And if so, that was fine. It would make him leaving so much easier.

Luffy inched toward you and ducked to meet your gaze. “Come with us.”

“What!” You hit an octave the best soprano would envy, losing your grip and slipping right off the rock back into the water. Your hands grabbed at the slippery stone, panic all over your face before you plunged under the surface.

You drifted under the waves, unmoving as the words replayed over and over in your head, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Glancing up at Luffy’s bright laughter, you caught sight of him peering down into the sea, his face muddled by reflections and ripples. He couldn’t be serious. He just couldn’t.

Luffy grew nervous when you didn’t resurface, leaning over the water to catch a glimpse of your shimmery tail, when as quick as lightning you broke the surface and came nose to nose with him. Blinking wide, you breathed deeply, so close you felt his every exhale on your skin. “You mean it?”

“‘Course!” Luffy offered you his hand despite the fact he’d lose all his strength the moment he touched your sea-soaked skin. “Wanna join my crew?”

Yes. You wanted nothing more than to follow him to the end s of the earth and then some. Part of you had been hoping he would ask. The rest of you longed to take his hand and smother him in hugs till he pried you off him. But… the water swirled around your tail, threatening to carry you off in a current, and your lips quivered down.

“I… I can’t!” you cried, dipping underwater before he could catch you, darting off into the blue. Panic bubbled in your chest, strangled gasps sending pops of air into the water around you. No matter what you wanted, you were bound to this reef. Your home, your kingdom… and above all that, to ever think of running off with a human was foolish beyond measure! So you wasted away all night long, lamenting around the sea, hiding above the coral and sands.

Luffy watched the water all morning, trusting you would show despite your disappearance implying otherwise. Nami set a hand on his shoulder. “Luffy, she’s not coming.”

He had to hope. You wanted to go, he saw it in your eyes, and he wanted you to go too. Luffy didn’t think he could bear leaving without you, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. He knew from the moment he met you that he needed you on his crew—but why? He searched his head for an answer, coming up short. Giving the sea one last hopeful glance, Luffy sighed and gave Nami the go-ahead.

The ship had barely sailed off when a shimmery, sparkling thing leaped out of the water, shouted his name, and plunged back into the blue. Luffy raced to the ship’s edge, a smile creeping up his face. You raked a trail of seaspray behind you as you darted just below the surface. Again, you propelled yourself out of the water. “Wait!”

Luffy threw his head back laughing, holding down his hat on his head. He shot Nami an I told you so look, to which she rolled her eyes and turned, lest he catch her pleased smirk. A round of chuckles ran amongst the crew as they slowed the ship’s leave, not that it mattered; Luffy was already slingshotting his rubber arms out at you, and the next time you appeared arcing through the air, your shout turned into a yelp as his arms wrapped around you and pulled you in. Another panicked shout of his name left you before you collided with the rubber man, the pair of you rolling to the deck.

You worried your tail crushed him, the hefty weight of it landing on his legs, but all reservations fizzled out the moment his arms wrapped you up in a warm embrace. Luffy’s head found your shoulder, your hands hooking around his shoulders. “I’m covered in seawater…”

“Don’ care,” Luffy muttered into your skin even as he weakened and sank into you. “I knew you’d come with us.”

“With you,” you corrected instinctively, pulling away to stare right into his eyes. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

He giggled softly. Luffy’s arms unraveled as he opted to instead cup your shoulders. “Good.”

From then on, where one went, you’d soon find the other. Not only on your end; Luffy quickly grew so accustomed to your presence that he began to wait for you to start eating, much to the amazement of his friends (Zoro almost admitted he was jealous before he saw the hints of puppy love in his captain’s eyes, and decided to let it go for now).

You still had some things to wear off before you fully let yourself admit you were falling for a human. Luffy seemed to be completely comfortable just going around holding your hand, swinging them between your bodies as your cheeks warmed. Luffy never strayed far from your side, comfortably resting an arm on your shoulder or some other contact. You never completely told him off for it, somewhat liking how his warmth contrasted with the cold of your sea-ridden body.

Now, it’s a given that Luffy cannot swim. He ate a devil fruit—everyone knew this fact very well. But now Luffy had his mermaid with him! All his faith went into knowing you would always swim to his rescue should he need it, so what’s the harm if he got a little bit more reckless surrounding the sea?

(The harm is to your stress. By God, he would be the end of you one way or another).

The number of times one of the crew has called your name, given you this tired and sorry look, and pointed out to sea. Luffy was likely to be flapping about in the distance. The most recent occurrence, Sanji set a hand on your shoulder and went to let down a rope ladder. “I’ll help you back up, lovely.”

Outwardly, you might gripe about holding his hand and having to save his devil-fruit ass from drowning every other week—but inwardly? You’d turn hell over before you let Luffy die. So you held his hand tightly in yours, wearing a smile so small only Luffy’s keen eye could see.

NAMI

Without really realizing it, Nami had fallen headfirst for your awkward, waterlogged, fishy kind of charm (and she wasn’t at all going to complain). She first started feeling it when the freshly victorious crew met your mer royalty parents at the surface, your tail mesmerizing as it dipped just into the water, your upper body propped up onto some scattered rocks. Your eyes filled with hope the longer you spoke to them in words too far to reach. Majestic. That’s the only word to describe you.

Well, majestic and graceless. That second descriptor was added when you rolled off the rocks into the water, beaming up at your parents before doing a figure eight around the sea and vaulting into the air. You flipped tail over head, cackling as you hit the water with a splash. A tiny laugh left Nami, eyes shining.

She was the first to help haul you up a rope ladder, hands clutching your damp arms. Nami met your smile steadfastly. “What’d you tell them?”

You giggled, cheeks warm at how you practically laid across her legs, the rest of the crew gathered around. “I just told ‘em I found something worth leaving for.”

(You’d told them you found a pretty human girl and had to leave with her or else you would probably die).

You promised to return for your birthright throne one day, though that promise hurt you. You had a duty to your people after all, no matter how pretty Nami was. But until then, you had today, and you would make the most of it.

Love wasn’t enough of a word to describe what you felt looking at Nami, and obsession was a bit too extreme (though Usopp would teasingly disagree). You simply… couldn’t help but gravitate toward her any chance there was, ever in her orbit. Where Nami was, you were soon to be found. Nami never told you to screw off or give her space; on the contrary, when your shoulder brushed hers, she pressed into you fervently, skin to skin and warm.

It only took a month for you to throw all caution to the wind and do the only thing you knew—go forth with the mer courting rituals (you were hopelessly at a loss, only doing what you’d seen the older mers do to beckon the attention of their intended).

Nami, clueless, accepted each gift of dazzling seashells and shimmery pearls with alighted smiles, taking you in her arms even when you smelled of the kelp forest you’d swam through to find the treasures. She laughed off the bites you gave her wrists, arms, and sometimes shoulders, snickering about how it tickled. And she sat and listened to every song you sat her down to listen to, closing her eyes as the melody calmed her, never needing any actual enchantment to draw her in.

In turn, you assumed her habir of buying you things was some sort of human ritual. Why else would Nami’s cheeks be so rosy as she handed you a luxury hairbrush you’d raved about seeing in a shop window?

“Did you see this new pearl she brought me?” Nami leaned toward Robin giddily, rolling the pearl in her palms. Her lip between her teeth, she stifled a too bright smile. “I’ll have enough to make a bracelet if hse keeps this up.”

“Then I’d say you’ll soon have a bracelet,” Robin mused, turning a page in her book. Nami tilted her head, eyes narrowed.

“What’s so funny?”

Robin’s lips curled up into a grin, eyes darting up to meet Nami’s. She barely contained her mirth as she flipped the book around and handed it over. “Nami, she’s been courting you.”

Jaw slack, Nami poured over the open page, heart stuttering. She slapped a hand to her temple, huffing a laugh. “So by giving her gifts, I’ve been courting her back?”

Humming, Robin took her book and closed it gently. She turned to face Nami entirely, brows raised. “You don’t seem upset.”

“I’m not,” Nami quipped, cheeks warming instantly. Robin chuckled behind her hand. “I—I mean—Uhm…”

The older woman stood and set a hand on Nami’s shoulder. “I’d expect an invite to swim fairly soon.”

Sure enough, not a day later, you shyly slinked up to Nami as she headed to the galley for dinner. Your hand found her wrist, tugging her aside as Zoro and Robin passed by wearing matching grins. You stared at your feet uncharacteristically, shuffling back and forth. Nami felt hot all over. She reached out a lissome finger to wrap around your pinky, whispering, “What is it?”

Swallowing thickly, you huffed a confident breath and snapped your head up. “Would-you-go-on-a-swim-with-me-tomorrow?”

A little smile worked its way up Nami’s face. Your eyes squeezed shut the second you finished your sentence, wincing like she might lash out. “I’d like that.”

Your whole face lit up, eyes wide as saucers. “O-Okay. At sunset. We’ll be docked at that island by then, right?”

Nami nodded and pulled you into the galley. Right as she passed through the door, before she could catch the teasing glances of the others, she turned and mumbled, “It’s a date.”

Nobody questioned it when you hissed your fangs at poor Usopp, booting him out of his seat right next to Nami, and promptly plopped down next to the grinning navigator.

Sunset came to slowly, in your opinion. All day you’d been tripping over nothing, nervous hands making your awkward legs even more coltish than usual. Around evening, the ship tipped too far left far too quickly, sending you careening right into Nami. You dragged the both of you down to the deck, face hidden in your hands as she laughed brightly.

And finally, the sun descended across the sky, shooting oranges and yellows and pinks into the clouds.

The wind kissed your face as you leaned against the ship’d railing, eyes darting back and forth over the rippled waters below. Fish flittered at the surface, bubbling her and there, muttering awful curses at each other. Nami sidled up beside you, eyeing your profile before gazing down.

You snickered, drawing her attention. “Fish hear all sorts of swears and insults from the sailors. I wish you could understand them because I will never be caught translating that mess.”

Your laugh trickled off as you looked at her, eyes trailing up and down her form. She wore one of her bikini tops and a pair of shorts, nothing too special, but something flared up in your chest at the sight of her. Skin prickling, you whipped around and found Sanji not too far away. The cook took a drag of his cigarette, admiring eyes set on Nami. Your fangs peeked out of your lips, trilling a low hiss. Sanji choked and nearly dropped his cig into the sea, catching it betwixt his fingers at the last second.

Nami’s laughed gently, taking your arm and swinging one leg over the ailing, then the other. You gazed into her eyes deeply. “C’mon,” she smiled. “I thought we were swimming?”

With that, she jumped off the ship and plunged into the sea. You jerked forward, watching bubbles fizzle up from the deep before Nami’s head popped back into sight. She kicked into deeper water, calling for you. Taking a moment to sike yourself up, you stood precariously on the ship’s railing, preparing to make a graceful dive after her—when your foot slipped.

Yelping, you tottered offbalance and fell face first off the ship, just barely flipping around to land feet first in the water. The water fizzled and bubbled all around you, the usual sting of scales surfacing from the depths of your skin causing you to squirm slightly. Your senses enhanced instantly, so Nami’s rich, boisterous laughter flowed down from the air to the sea, embarrassment flooding your body. Slowly, you swam upward, water parting over your head and dripping donw your face.

Eyes hooded, you came to face to face with Nami’s state of hilarity, clutching her sides as she struggled to remain above water. You waded toward her, hands finding her sides and giving her a break from kicking even as your eyes avoided her own. She hooked her finger under your chin, grin cheeky. “I thought it was cute.”

“Wasn’t meant to be,” you grunted.

Nami rolled her eyes and kicked away form you. “I thought we were swimming?”

“Not here,” you said, coming back to your sense. You reached for her hand and led her along the coast. “This way.”

You placed her arms around your neck and sped through the water, taking the pair of you far from the prying eyes of the crew and nearby sailors. Nami tucked her face into the crook of your neck, chuckling as seaspray stung her skin. Your tail propelled you toward a secluded cove you once visited with your aunt’s migrant pod, and you reached your destination in no time at all.

Now, Nami had done her research. She knew what to expect… But then you actually started to swim, your tail not making the usual constant up an down movements. You took a deep breath, eyed her hopefully, and parted the water by arcing your arms outward. Using a single, powerful thrust of your tail, you glided through the water like a piercing arrow, rotating in a spiral corkscrew. You circled Nami, who treaded water with a confused furrow in her brow.

She had been picturing the Dance of Sea Hearts all day, and yet she hadn’t come close.

Taking a breath, Nami gulped some air and ducked under the surface, flinging open her eyes. The salty water stung her eyes but she remained wide eyed, gaze trailing after your lithe curves and spirals. She caught your eye and the whole world seemed shifted all at once.

Suddenly pickiing up speed, you swam on your side round and round Nami, creating a current that spun Nami in a circle. Cheeks puffed of air, she went up for another bout of air and sank back down in one fluid motion. It was odd sort of dance, your fins brushing her skin and your hands tangling in her hair, taking her hands and spinning Nami in circles till the girl’s lack of oxygen and dizziness created a euphoric lightedheadness. But she trusted you, so she rose up for air and descended under the waves once more.

When you finally started to sing, Nami wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to return to the surface. You were one person yet your voice sounded like a choir, echoes forming under the water and overwhelming every living creature in the vicinity with the beauty of your vocalizations. She remembered when she heard your people singing her crew to thier watery depths… and this was nothing like that. Their voices beckoned her forth with promises of jewels and safety of wealth… but you didn’t promise anything other than the safety of your love.

Nami’s lips returned to the surface, sucking in as much air as she could. As the water closed around the crown of her head once more, you floated right in front of her, careful to not allow any enchantment into your voice. You wanted to do this right, not the way your people usually took the hearts of humans. Lips parted, you strung out your song—the song your father sang to your mother, and her mother to her father, and his father to his partner, and so on.

The dazed look in Nami’s eyes was nearly concerning, and you nearly feared you’d let slip some magic, when her hands cupped your cheeks and her forehead collided with yours. Bubbles flew form your mouth, song halted instantly. Nami gave you a tilted grin, picking up the melody where you’d dropped it, and you were putty in her hands.

Deeper the pair of you sank into the waves, your arms enveloping her body and holding her close, your tail curling around her legs. Noses brushing, your voices twinned together as your smiles rose to greet each other. Nami tapped your arm rapidly, on the brink of suffocation, and you swiftly swam the both of you back to the surface.

Gasping in air, Nami curled her arms round your neck, lungs no longer straining under the power of the sea. “Are we, like, mermaid married now?”

You laughed awkwardly, nosing her cheek. “Not exactly… Do you understand what I’m asking?”

“I do.”

“And?”

She pecked your lips. “I like you too.”

Though your heart threatened to sink, you accepted her kiss wholeheartedly, vowing to someday make her understand the depth of what you felt for her. The night grew long and full of laughter, splashing water hitting your faces as you committed a dance of your own making: having fun.

ZORO

Zoro knew the moment he laid eyes on you that you were dangerous.

With sharp fangs, fins that flared when angry, and the most hypnotizing eyes that made him feel things when he looked in them—you were close to the myths he heard growing up on his home island. Except, unlike the myths, you were kind, and maybe that’s what made it worse.

Zoro also knew something else the moment he saw you jump in the way of a sword strike from an oil miner and proceeded to tear him to shreds. With a mumbled curse and flushed face, he felt a thump in his heart as you heaved, dark eyes taking him in like you intended to devour him whole. But then you smiled, corners of your mouth curling to reveal shiny teeth that should have been threatening, and all he could think was a very firm shit.

He wasn’t getting a crush on a mermaid.

Yet, he found his eyes always drifting to you one way or another. And that voice—you swore you never used your enchantments on anyone, finding it unethical, but you had to be doing something to him. Each morning you went up to the crows nest and sang a song. Zoro was able to name every single one by now, but he’d rather die than admit it.

(But you knew, having a keen eye to catch his eyes fluttering closed whilst you spun your melodies).

You composed yourself far better despite feeling a similar tug in his direction. You were a princess, after all—albeit a feral sea princess, but you held poise nonetheless. Of course, that didn’t change the fact that every time you laid eyes on Zoro you had this innate desire to bite him. Maybe then the cook would get the message and stop staring.

Either way, it was really only a matter of time before the culmination of looks, touches, and songs took its final toll on you both.

You sat with Robin on the steps leading up to the helm, you head propped in your hands, eyes unabashedly laid upon the swordsman training on the deck below. Robin’s eyes drifted up from her journal, flicking between you and the source of your admination, before shaking her head. “You could talk to him, you know.”

Blinking, you glanced her way. “I do talk to him.”

“I mean,” Robin laughed. “Talk to him. About you and him.”

“Oh no, I can’t do that. It would complicate things.”

“And constantly undressing him with your eyes doesn’t?”

You cast her a little glare. “Don’t test me.”

Rolling her eyes, Robin shoved your shoulder, nearly sending you falling donw the stairs. “I’m sick of watching you two. It’s sickening. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of your own romantic customs?”

Cheeks burning, you stammered over incoherent words and wobbled to your feet. Pausing to breathe, you peered over your shoulder, losing yourself for a moment as you caught sight of the grace with which he moved. He moved on from lifting weights, instead going over his katas and form with sword, the Wado Ichimonji.

Robin’s chuckles brought you back to reality. Pouting, you gritted out, “Shut up.” You whirled around and meant to march right up to Zoro—what you were going to say was the issue of future you—but you walked head first into a broad chest and fell in a heap of limbs on the ground.

Zoro’s eyes went wide, motionless as you glared up at him only for your eyes to soften instantly. Zoro huffed a laugh and reached out his hand. You eagerly accepted his help, jumping back to your feet and falling right into your habit of admiring every detail in his face. Your surprisingly strong grip remained on his wrist, your eyes darting between the flesh of his arm to his chesnut eyes. Zoro frowned deeply, confused, trying to tug his hand away and reeling at how strong your vice was.

Blinking quickly out of your trance, you released him, stared blankly, and bolted below deck. Zoro watched carefully, having half a mind to call you back; he’d walked over to talk to you, after all. He liked talking to you (it was a shocking revelation he was still having trouble accepting).

Robin felt like an intruder on such moments, yet always found herself in the middle. She snapped shit her journal and Zoro’s head snapped in her direction, quickly darting his attention elsewhere. Robin let loose a sigh of exasperation.

“Ridiculous.” Before Zoro could process whatever that meant, Robin was gone, leaving Zoro clutching his hand ot his chest and wondering why his skin crawled with the lingering sensation of your touch. He really couldn’t take much more of this. And neither could the crew.

“Every time they speak I feel like I’m walking in on a hook up,” Nami complained to Sanji. “They make asking about the weather feel sensual.”

Sanji chuckled to that. “Patience. Not everyone is as emotionally aware as you, darling.”

A week passed, and the usual brief glances and looks of longing exchanged readily. And then came the night of your watch. Everyone always knew when you had watch because you made it everyone else’s problem the whole day. Groaning and grunting, you lamented your lost sleep, and the others usually chuckled behind their hands whilst you sighed.

Usually, you spent your watch alone, charting the stars to pass the time and singing old sea shanties to keep yourself awake. But tonight was different; tonight, someone joined you.

Zoro’s footsteps thunked against the deck, startling you from your daydream. Shoulders dropping, you sent him a smile and went back to leaning against the mast. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope,” Zoro sighed. He followed you gaze to the night sky. “Have they moved?”

“Have they—?” You paused to stare at him, mirth glittering in your eyes. “Have the stars moved?”

He flushed from his neck to his nose, only worsening at the sight of your blue-moon smile. “You know—are there new ones? Constellations. Don’t new ones appear when we’re in different areas?”

His frantic explanations only humored you more, dragging tiny chuckles out of you even as you nodded. “I know what you mean. Sorry for laughing… There are new ones. See there?” You sidled up to him and pointed to the left side of the sky. “There’s the South Mother. I could never see her back at my reef.”

Zoro’s brows met. “South Mother?”

“I think you call her Ursa Major,” you explained. “To us, she’s our ancestor, banished to the stars for loving a human.” Realizing how close you’d drawn to him, you glanced at Zoro before swiftly clearing your throat and stepping away. The tranquil quiet filled the space between you, before the stories of your childhood rose to the surface of your memory.

“My mother always told that story as a warning. Never deal with humans. They get you cast among the stars.” A tiny scoff left you, smile forming. “But my father? He told me South Mother was a revolutionary. Why shouldn’t she have loved a human? If she found one worth her time, then that’s her choice.”

You chanced a look at Zoro, locking eyes with him. You found it in yourself to not look away. “I always liked my father’s version better.”

Zoro nodded tentatively, unsure what to say if he should say anything at all. He settled for sitting against the mast, motioning for you to join him. You dropped down quickly, taking a spot on his right and resting you head against the wood. Minutes went by in blissful silence.

“Can I bite you?”

The question caught him off guard, Zoro lurching up to stare at you. His jaw agape, he found your expression to be one of utter seriousness, blinking at him expectantly. His swallowed thickly. “I—In what context?”

You shifted around to face him, waiting for him to do the same. “In the context that I want to bite you so no one else does.”

Reeling, Zoro managed a laugh, lips curling upward. “I don’t think you have to worry about anyone else biting me.”

“So you don’t want me to?”

“I didn’t say that.” Gods, what was he doing? He lowered his gaze, watching your hands fidget nervously with your boot laces. You were nervous… Glancing up, he saw that same nervous energy swarming your face. “Can I ask why you’re worried someone else will bite me?”

You thought back to your conversation with Robin, and her advice, and regretted ever bringing any of this up in the first place. It was all so stupid. You’d done so well of pushing all of this down… but he was waiting for an answer, and you’re quite certain you’d give Zoro anything he wanted.

“In my culture,” you started, “we bite those we… feel things for. It lets others know they’re talking with someone.”

Zoro understood what you actually wanted to say, no matter how hidden in your words it was. “And you want to talk with me?”

You wanted so much more than that. Honestly, you were clinging to your composure. He’s lucky you even asked first. “Yes. I do. And I don’t want you… talking to anyone else.”

Squinting at the space over Zoro’s shoulder, you awaited the blow of rejection. Surely, Zoro had other options. He was a warrior—strong, wise under all that moss on his head, and kind. Yet slowly, Zoro moved into your line of sight. His heart thundered around in his ribcage, his next sentence feeling silly, yet true.

“Humans do something similar,” he offered. “You bite me… and I’ll bite you.”

You hadn’t expected to get this far. Nodding gently, you threw caution to the wind along with all the pretense. “All that is to say… I… Well, I understand the South Mother because I met you.”

Zoro’s gaze softened, his hands drawing you closer till his exhale fanned your face. You knelt before each other, a single question in his eyes, to which you nod and lean in if only to be near him. His hand cradled the back of your head, lips dancing across the skin of your neck, finding the spot that made you squirm and biting. Zoro had no fangs to sink into your flesh but it hardly made a difference; the mark was there, along with several others littered along your shoulder.

Letting out a shaky breath you gripped Zoro’s jaw before he could go any further and brought his face level with yours. Running your tongue over your two jutting fangs, you muttered, “Where?”

Zoro craned his neck to the side, his breathing heavy and pupils consuming his irises. You gently traced the line of his jaw, completely enamored, before latching onto the skin where his neck met his collarbone. Careful to not wound him, you bit down just enough to leave your mark. Zoro’s slight hiss had you soothing your tongue over the mark, remembering the feel of his lips on your skin, and copied his earlier ministrations. Zoro would deny it over and over, but he whined, and you would take that knowledge to your watery grave.

Come morning, imagine the crew’s surprise walking into the galley expecting the usual dance of awkward feelings, only to find the pair of you thick as thieves showing off the fresh territorial markings splayed across your necks.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s @murnsondock

597 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 11 days

Text

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 05. ANGEL OF SMALL DEATH

a/n: i am apologizing now and a chapter early because this will be the last bit of happiness before the real angst settles in. i'm talking absolute pain. but for now we get to indulge in logan being content and happy with having his honey exactly how he wants. this chapter wasn't supposed to be this long, but i'm feral for this man. so here we are. enjoy the equivalent to a beach episode in a tv show before the real pain begins!

summary: when the world grows silent and time seems to stand still, you and logan find a reprieve in the serenity of your apartment.

OR nasty fucking him all over the small space until he sees god.

word count: 8k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), sloppy toppy to the highest degree, p in v sex, choking, cumplay, spitplay, dirty talk, wade being a peeping tom, just wade, squirting, slightly dom!logan, accidental edging, face fucking, creampie, logan being a freak and his honey matching him entirely.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He slept. For the first time in near a decade, he slept long after the sun rose in the morning sky. He resided in a vast emptiness of nothing but darkness. No nightmares, no screams, no fear that ate his heart bit by bit until all but a shell remained. Merely the echo of your breaths as you lay sprawled across his chest—naked skin pressed intimately atop his.

The curtains on your bedroom window remained open from the day prior—allowing the sun to stream in. Catching across your face and forcing your eyes to open with a squint of displeasure. You stirred gently, a sigh pressed to the hard chest against your cheek. The one that rose and fell in time with his heart beat.

Surprisingly he didn't snore as often as you expected. The first night he spent in your bed he was rigid. Unsure of where to lay, or how to curve around your body. Now he remained a heavy mass that slumped into your soft mattress, one arm spread to your side of the bed and the other a weight on your back.

Even in sleep Logan was adamant on keeping you right there. Pressed tight enough to feel every shift, every deep and sated breath.

A sore ache built between your thighs as you turned your head to look at him—admiring the way his face was devoid of a frown. After the fifth orgasm (three around his cock and two from his mouth) you had no choice but to shove him away. The promise of more on the tip of your tongue—as long as you got a chance to rest.

Although you were positive if he tried to fuck you right away you'd be screaming. And not from pleasure. The raw pain of your still leaking cunt is what kept you from shuffling up his body to sit on his now hard cock. It stirred against your stomach, pressed deliciously on your warm skin. You could feel it begin to drip, pooling against the trail of hair that led downward.

Moving slowly, you managed to maneuver yourself down his body—checking with each shift to see if he remained asleep. The sight made you smile; knowing he felt safe enough to find some solace in a dreamless night here in your bed. You watched him toss and turn on Wade's couch long enough.

For now he’d get a chance to actually breathe peacefully. His body no longer at the ready for a fight that would never come.

"Pretty," you sighed, eyes trailing down his stomach to the patch of hair nestled at the base of his already hard cock.

A pearlescent drop slipped down the vein, his chest a steady rise and fall even as you carefully peeked your tongue out to lick it up. You froze when his body shifted, a heavy sigh falling past his lips. Waking him up was the last thing you wanted—given the state of unrest he found himself stuck in for two weeks—but the thought of finally getting to taste him kept you going.

The salty tang of him spread along your tongue as you licked at his cock again. This time less afraid of feeling his body shift. He seemed to be on the very precipice of consciousness. But sleep would hold him captive for just a bit longer.

You moaned softly when your lips wrapped around him fully—hand gently holding what you may not be able to fit in your mouth. If last night told you anything, it’s that James Howlett was not a small man. In fact you had proof to uphold that statement. Yet that alone wouldn't deter you from taking him as deep as you could; even if you choked.

The stuttered breath that left his chest made your heart race the further you went. Pulling off quickly, you let your spit drip out of your mouth, coating his length to help you slide down a bit easier. The wet echo of your hand filled the room—his breaths deep and raspy as he started to feel the tendrils of pleasure take hold in his body.

Biting back another whine, you swallowed him down until he hit the back of your throat. Your hand a steady rhythm along what you couldn't fit. He pulsed on your tongue; precum dribbled down the back of your throat. The taste made your head spin—his cum now leaking from your spent cunt. Coating the inside of your thighs with a combination of you and him.

A match made in the entanglement of two universes. Colliding into one another without mercy.

"F-fuck," he groaned, hips shifting forward and choking you on his cock. You spluttered for breath as he caused you to gag—spit leaking down to his pubic hair.

Even through your gasps for air and soft breathy whimpers, he remained asleep. Lost in a dream of you sucking his cock greedily back into your mouth. Eyes overflowing with tears and lungs begging for just a bit more oxygen. He fucked your mouth gently, hips thrusting unconsciously to stay in that wet heat. To feel just a bit more of a white hot ecstasy you helped him chase.

Cupping his balls, you felt your spit coat them in a sticky layer. You wanted them in your mouth. Ached to feel them on your tongue. And with a gasp of the crisp morning air, you shifted—sucking on them with a soft moan of need.

Your hand pumped him rapidly, building his high until there was no denying what was happening. Scraping your teeth along the soft skin of his balls, you felt them draw up tightly. Logan's eyes flew open with a sharp gasp of air, his face tilting to see you between his thighs—your chin and mouth covered in a mix of your spit and his precum.

His mouth opened to speak, to give you a filthy comment you'd no doubt feel down your spine. Only for you to take him down your throat in one swift thrust. Tugging sharply on his pulsing balls to draw him right over the edge.

He came with a raw shout of your name, spilling into your mouth with enough cum to choke you. Until it began to leak out around your spread lips—trailing the sticky mess down your hand. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe—head pushed back into the pillow and back arched with the force of his release. And you kept going.

You licked up every trace of his spend with an eager tongue and sighed out moans. A hand yanked you up his body, fingers gripping your chin to keep your mouth open as you looked at him with eyes glazed over—your body covered in a sheet of sweat.

"Share," he rasped, tugging you closer.

Smiling, you cupped his chin and guided his open mouth towards yours. Allowing whatever cum remained on your tongue to drip down onto his awaiting taste buds. The shiver that ran down his body caused you to clench around nothing—empty and aching for this to continue.

He moaned, pulling you in for a kiss that had you clambering into his lap. Your tongue sliding against his and fingers delving into his bedhead of hair. The passion from last night still lingered in your veins. A silent plea for his touch to drag down your naked form; for him to consume you entirely. Yet you remained content like this—in his arms, lazily kissing until you had no choice but to come up for air.

"I can make us breakfast," you murmured, running your thumb along his cheek—your breath a warm caress on his face.

A hum purred in his chest, hands cupping your ass and kneading the flesh with a sleepy grin. "That sounds good."

"Got anything in mind?"

His eyes trailed down your throat to the way your breasts were pushed up against his chest. You felt your nipples tighten at the heat from his gaze. The want in his touch that left you craving for more. Vanessa really wasn't kidding when she told you he'd lock you in this apartment. Ravishing you every way he knew how; showing you everything he learned in his two hundred years on Earth.

"I do," he replied, voice low and thick with sleep.

"Yeah?" He nodded, an air of serenity lighting up his eyes. The sight felt new—unlike the Logan from last night—but you could feel the warmth of it slide down your spine. Encasing you in a cocoon of domesticity that thrived in the afternoon sun. "Pancakes?"

"Mm." Lips trailed along your jaw, tracing the line of your neck with gentle bites that were soothed by his hot tongue. "I've got somethin' else in mind honey."

Heat pooled between your legs, slicking your skin with a fresh wave of arousal. You felt his nostrils flare—your scent thick in the air and drawing out a side of him that begged to take a bite out of your plush form. He wanted to eat you alive. It sent a thrill of fear through his body.

You longed to explain that you felt the very same way about him.

A low growl emanated from your stomach, pulling him free from the shackles of lust that clamped on his neck. The flutter of your heart was only furthered by his soft laugh; hazel eyes now a bit clearer as he listened to the cues of your body.

"Actual food then," he said, tapping your ass lightly to shift you when he clambered out of bed. Searching for the jeans that were thrown to the side.

You tried to swallow the flare of disappointment that soured your stomach and Logan could tell. He knew you wanted to stay there tangled beneath the sheets. Your bodies stuck to one another long enough to cause discomfort. Fuck he'd never wanted anything more. He could sense the danger in letting his heart be filled by you—the fear of this going a different way.

Silencing it was near impossible when all he wanted to do was listen to it.

Pressing a kiss to your furrowed brows, he handed you his flannel. Watching in adoration as you struggled with the buttons. Similar to him twenty four hours prior.

Not bothering with his belt, he walked out into your living room—seeing the trail of clothing left in your wake of need. He gathered what he could, tossing your robe to the back of the couch. His boots placed by the foot of the coffee table. While you stumbled behind him on unsteady legs that still shook from last night's activities.

Pride flared hot in his chest at the sight; his cock twitching in interest at your messy state.

"I can make the pancakes," you announced, trying your best to walk to the stove without your knees buckling beneath you.

He laughed, reaching an arm around your waist to tug you back and into his chest. "I know how to make pancakes bub."

"And if I don't believe you?"

His lips pressed to your ear, teeth biting at the lobe. "I used to be a teacher honey. Who do you think kept those kids fed most of the time?"

"The other X-Men," you huffed, though the smile on your face told him you were more than happy to stay in his arms. "Weren't they professors too?"

"Yeah right," he scoffed. "Jean was considered a fuckin' fire hazard and forget Scott. He couldn't even find the kitchen if he wanted to." He walked you both towards the counter, turning you to sit you on it with a messy kiss that had his teeth digging into your lip—pulling at it gently with a groan. "Storm was better. She knew how to handle the little shits when they came up with strange food demands."

You smiled, curling your arms around his waist. "I like hearing you talk about them."

A flicker of grief filtered through the joy, reminding him of what he once had. But as usual, he smothered it with a puff of air—craving the taste of a cigar between his teeth he could bite down on. Something to let his pain sink into other than you.

"It's been awhile."

"Well you should talk about them. They're your family Logan."

His body went stiff, hands pressed flat to the counter, and you let the words sink into his skin. You watched his mind come to life with old memories long past. Good memories. Ones that involved cooking in a kitchen full of students and jokes with the people he loved most. He felt the weight of grief begin to lift off his chest with each moment of laughter, each piece of love he once forgot.

All the horrors he'd endured buried the good under a wave of bleak nothingness.

To have them back brought a light he forgot once belonged.

"They uh..." He cleared his throat, moving to grab a mixing bowl you stored somewhere deep in your cabinets. You weren't one for cooking often; the dinner with Logan being an exception. "I forgot how it feels."

"What?"

"Havin' them back. Even if it's just through this." He smiled—more to himself than anything—and flicked the stove burner on.

A part of you knew that was the end of the conversation for now. After spending decades avoiding his past mistakes—his trauma that might never heal—he finally felt safe enough to open the door. Even if it barely remained cracked enough for you to peek through. This was him taking a step towards keeping true to the promise he uttered against your lips last night.

The intent of staying no longer an echo of words that held no weight behind them.

There existed—between you and him—a sense of fulfillment that sprouted from the seeds of the you he knew before. A version that was capable of handling his grief, because you shared in it. You mourned his family for one sole reason: they were your family too.

If you could give that to him now, you would. Offering him a place of serenity despite the chaos he lingered in was enough. You could see it on his face—the peace he'd been searching for...now in his grasp. He'd be damned to let even a sliver of it go now.

The scent of batter being poured onto a grill filled your apartment, setting the hunger in your body alight with a new vigor. He moved with such fluidity and ease. As if he already memorized the layout of your kitchen from the last time he was here; his hand reaching for things in drawers you forgot were there. You traced your gaze along his bare back, down the curves and sinews of his muscles that rippled beneath his skin.

Skin you clawed at with need; that ripped beneath your nails and healed over seconds later. You longed to place your mark on his body, to see a trail of hickeys lead down into his jeans. But that remained a disappointment you could live with. As long as he let you try over and over again.

"Careful honey." His hand pressed to the counter, back hunching as his nostrils flared. "I gotta feed ya before anything else can happen."

"I'm not-"

He turned, eyes narrowing at the way your thighs pressed together to alleviate the growing ache. "Then spread 'em."

Your breath grew heavy, eyes lidded as lust washed over your body with a demand you couldn't fight again. The sight of you practically panting at the sight of his grin—so sure that he'd find you dripping onto the marble counter—left you clamoring for some semblance of control. Surely you could wait until he'd finished cooking. You needed food more than him.

But the longer he watched you—scrutinizing every part of your trembling form—began to shift that truth to something else entirely.

"C'mon bub. Show me the mess you're makin'." A whine echoed in the small kitchen as he flipped another pancake onto the plate. "Be good and I'll reward you."

Fuck.

Your legs parted, flannel pulled up, as you revealed the slick lips of your cunt that begged for his attention. A groan rumbled in his chest, his eyes greedy in the way he devoured the sight of you so ready for him to slip right in. The spatula nearly bent in his hand—the smoldering scent of a forgotten pancake became an afterthought as he stepped closer.

"Logan the stove," you breathed.

He flicked it off without looking, the small pile of pancakes slid beside you with a fork. "Eat."

"But-"

The pointed look shut you up within seconds, his hands parting your thighs to spread you even further. Until he was standing before you with intent hammering in his heart. Cutting through the pancakes, you moaned at the taste as it hit your tongue. Only for Logan to drop to his knees—his thumbs pulling you open for your slick to pour out right onto the counter.

"What are you—oh-" you gasped, a hand digging into his hair as his mouth sealed over your cunt with a husky moan.

He watched you while his tongue licked over every part of you. Plunging into you as you swallowed down the buttery pancake—your mouth parted with another heady moan of his name. The challenge was clear enough for you to understand without further questioning. You were meant to eat. As he indulged in devouring a breakfast of his own.

The tip of his tongue flicked at your clit, drawing a whine from your throat—the fork nearly slipping out of your hand. Only for him to grasp it and drag it back to the plate. He stopped, keeping his mouth directly over your throbbing center, yet never touching you. The action was enough to drag even a sane person to madness.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, the burn of tears stinging your eyes as you cut another piece and placed it on your tongue.

He continued with a growl. Sucking at you lewdly until all you could hear was the echo of his mouth moving over you wetly. His thumb rubbing quick circles over your clit, tongue thrusting deep enough to drink down every drop of you that poured out.

Having managed to eat two of the smaller pancakes, you felt the tendrils of pleasure begin to rush through your body—pulling and tugging at each nerve with a familiar heat you'd grown to love. He moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he ate you with a drunken hunger. An urgency to feel you pulse around his tongue.

"Logan I'm gonna-" You gasped, fingers yanking on his hair.

The fork clattered to the counter—your hips dragging along his mouth with a cry as you broke for him. Unlike before this felt like a rush of fresh air. An echo of love that lingered in his tongue, in his promise to keep you. Your chest heaved, legs trembling over his shoulders, and the ache of want still stuck to your skin like the humid air of summer.

He didn't quell your hunger.

He merely lit the match for something stronger.

"Good job," he murmured, catching your lips in a kiss that had you wrapping your body around him, arms twining around his neck. "Mm. Think I found somethin' better than fuckin' syrup."

The skin of your cheeks burned hot as he smiled; his tongue licking at your open mouth. Words were lost as you kissed him with an eagerness that threatened to break you. This is what you longed for. The promise of a life overflowing with small bits of joy. Pieces of a future that echoed with what you built together.

Certainly not a perfect Polaroid, but you supposed that's what made the sun spots so endearing. It captured the truth of what still had to be figured out. The pain that you'd one day have to face head on. But as he kissed you slowly, hands grasping gently at your flesh, you felt certain that things would be okay.

Because he would be there, standing beside you with his hand in yours, ready to face it with you.

The midday sun cast shadows along your living room, turning dark spots into shade you now lounged in. Logan sat at your kitchen table with a plate of food you'd made an hour after your kitchen escapades. The quiet of having him there, watching you with a warmth in his eyes that burned lovingly against your skin, left you craving more of this.

"I like you in my shirt," he said, pushing the now empty plate to the side.

You smiled, leaning against the edge of the table as he kissed your bare thigh. "I like you in no shirt."

"Yeah I bet bub," he chuckled.

The heavy press of his palm to your leg kept you still—even as you continued to burn from an hour ago. You didn't rush him into the act, because if anything you had an excess of time. One more day off from work left you with the knowledge that you would have Logan more times than your body could handle.

He was quickly turning into an addiction you held no intention of kicking. How could you? When the sweetness of him spread along your tongue like the finest whiskey known to man. When you were so devoted to a relationship that barely started to bloom. Yet you felt as if you'd known him your entire life. Your heart was waiting for him to appear—claim you without question—and you could do nothing but respond with a desperate yes.

"Still needy for me honey?" he teased, standing to his full height with a soft grunt, his hands spreading along your hips.

You scoffed, pushing at his chest; even if he did resemble a brick wall. "You're imagining things Howlett."

"Oh it's Howlett now huh?" He nipped at your jaw, smiling at your soft bubble of laughter that burrowed its way into the depths of his heart. "Thought you liked callin' me James."

The breath caught in your throat when his tongue slid along your throat, heat pooling in your stomach. "Logan," you sighed, fingers tangling in his hair to draw his face up.

"That's better," he growled, cupping your chin to connect his lips to yours.

The raw needy ache of last night reared its head in your body, screaming out for him as he licked into your mouth with a purr. One you felt reverberate through your chest and down to the very tips of your fingers. He was yours to kiss, yours to love, and without knowing it you managed to tame the lonesome Wolverine that begged for a hint of your affection.

"Can't fuckin' get enough of you," he mumbled against your neck, sucking at the tender skin as his hands kneaded at your ass. "Got me goin' feral honey."

"I don't mean to."

"I know." He pushed his hips into yours, dragging you along his jeans with a stuttered breath. "'M gonna fuck you."

Your eyes met his gaze—a pool of slick now staining the dark denim he leaked into. "Here?"

He nodded, teeth bared in a ravenous smile. "When you eat dinner here without me..." Tugging the flannel open, he sucked at the top of your breast. "You'll remember me bending you over this table."

No words could counter what he just uttered as if he was reading straight from a novel of your life. His hands guided you to turn around—your palms flat on the wood and breath heavy in your chest. The audible echo of his zipper sent a flare of want through your body. Slick now coating the inside of your thighs, dripping down for him to see the slight shine of it in the sunlight.

He grunted palm sliding along your cunt and jolting you with a shuddered breath. Though he'd already eaten—twice—he was intent on indulging in a dessert so sweet he would go to the grave thinking about it. His cock—hard and throbbing—slid along the lips of your cunt. Coating him in your slick with a soft puff of air that blew across the back of your neck.

"Press your cheek down for me honey," he said softly, hand gripping your neck and guiding you until your back had no choice but to curve—ass presented to him with a soft moan. "There we go. Lookin' like a damn goddess."

"Oh fuck-" you sighed, the ache between your legs now a searing burn that could only be put out by him.

"You want my cock?"

You nodded, a stray tear falling to the table. "I do."

He huffed, lips pressing to the shell of your ear. "Begging so sweetly for me. Can't believe you thought I'd leave willingly."

The comment was more for himself than you, but you mewled for him, hips pushing back into his until the head of his cock tapped your clit. Drawing a high pitched cry from your parted lips still shiny with his spit.

"Please," you gasped, nails scratching along the wood. You'd see the marks later and be placed back into this memory with a visceral shove. As he intended

"I know, I know."

Lining himself up, he pushed forward with a broken gasp—his face buried against your shoulder. The stretch was divine. Last night's pain dispersed the second he slid into you with one thrust, your walls clamping down around him tight enough to choke a moan from his throat. The breathy grunted fuck had your head spinning, another gush of slick pouring out of you until it leaked between you.

Yet he held himself there, panting against your back as his cock twitched inside you. Begging him to move. He gave you a moment to catch your breath, to find something in your mind to latch onto. Yet what remained when he already sent you to the stratosphere? What could you attach yourself to when you were floating above the clouds?

"Need you to move," you whined.

He kissed your ear, grinding against you with a rasped grunt. "So fucking tight bub. 'M tryin’ not to cum."

"But I want you to-"

Pulling back he thrust into you with a stunted shift of his hips—cutting off your words as you moaned. Your eyes rolled back when he began to move in earnest. His hips slapping against your ass and hand bunching the fabric of his flannel to pull you back along his cock. And you took it.

You were reduced to a moaning wet mess when he fucked into you with a growl. Searching for the place that would draw you over the edge with ease. The cry that wrenched from your throat—your body trembling in his grasp—told him he'd struck gold. A smile curved over his lips as he kept that angle. Thrusting into you with a needy growl you heard bounce off the cabinets and walls.

"That it?" His hand gripped your throat, pulling you up and off the table. "That's the spot huh bub."

A sob fell past your parted lips, tears spilling down your cheeks when his other hand found your clit—fingers pulling up the hood to press right against the nerve. A burning sensation began to build in your stomach. Unlike what transpired in the times before.

This felt like more. All encompassing and treacherous enough to split you right down the center.

Your fingers scrambled to clutch his wrist. Unable to discern if you wanted to push him away or keep him there.

Logan merely chuckled, going faster with ease. You choked on your spit, your knees buckling, but he merely clutched you tighter. Keeping you right where he wanted as he fucked you within an inch of your life. The wet squelch of his cock plunging into you only made the fire burn brighter. You swore you could feel the flames lick along your skin—eating you alive.

"Got no words for me honey?" he grunted, teeth biting at your jaw. "Don't tell me I fucked 'em all out of your head."

"Hngg-"

"What was that?"

Nails dug into his skin and a cracked sob ripped from your raw throat when you came. Your walls pulsing around him as something wet gushed down your thighs. It splattered against the table, causing Logan to feel as if all the breath was punched from his lungs. His fingers still moved, spreading the mess and pulling every last drop from your spent body.

Even as he fought to ram his cock into you without mercy—desperate for his own high. You whimpered with each shift of his hips, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open with gasped breaths. And Logan had never seen a prettier sight than this.

He felt his heart clench, breath aching for lungs, as he fucked you through it. Until your body sagged against his with a sigh—eyes fluttering open to reveal your dazed expression. His heart twisted at the sight, cock throbbing with a needy ache he could no longer ignore.

"Y-Your turn," you panted, reaching up with a shaky hand to draw his lips to yours.

"Yeah?" His hips shifted forward and your mouth dropped open. "You want me to fill you up honey?"

The quick nod was all he needed to start chasing the built up high that threatened to strangle him. But the shrill echo of your phone across the table killed him like a shot to his head. He bit back a snarl of rage when your eyes lazily dragged to the face down device. Your heart picking up speed at the thought of who might be trying to contact you.

"I can ignore it," you mumbled.

The temptation to murder whoever was on the other line built up like bile in the back of his throat. But like a better man, he swallowed it down with a grunt. Pulling himself free with a hiss as his cock slapped against his stomach—covered in the sticky white cream that was your cum and aching for a release that would have to come later.

"Might be your work." He tapped your ass, carefully placing himself back in his jeans with a pained grunt. "Go on bub. I'm okay."

A glimmer of disappointment flared to life in your eyes before you were answering without checking the screen. The soft hello barely audible over the rush of blood that blared in his ears. He knew he wouldn't die from this. But fuck if he didn't feel like his body might combust at the sensation of being edged so hard his chest hurt.

"Wade?"

His head whipped towards you—a look of blistering fury crossed his face as he ripped the phone from your grasp. "You motherfucker," he snarled.

"You should really fuck with your knees Log. Save that adamantium skeleton." His voice was light, cheerful, and Logan had never wanted to rip him to shreds more.

"Are you watching us?" Your eyes widened and before Wade could give a snarky response, you were facing the still open window.

Wade stood across the street in his living room, waving with a knife. "Gotta give you pointers peanut. I've never been so hard in my life."

"Oh god," you sighed, covering your face. You reached for the phone; Logan gave it over before he could crush it in his fist. "Wade!"

"Whoa sweet angel! Don't go screaming my name after your man just made you see Natasha Romanoff in the afterlife. Did you tell her I said hi by the way?"

"It's rude to spy on people Wade Winston Wilson." His face fell as Logan snickered behind you. "Now I want an apology. Or I'm calling Nessa."

Though you couldn't see him well, you caught the way his face paled. "Right. I'm sorry. I won't be a perv next time. Even if you do have your window open and are screaming Logan's name so loud they can hear you on Knowhere."

"I wasn't-"

"And for your information FYI, I didn't spy. I just happened to see him and you bent over a table and assumed." He smiled, toothy and proud. "Can't fault me for being right on the money."

In an attempt to control your breathing (so as not to ask Logan to cut off Wade's limbs) you smiled through the flicker of annoyance. He was your friend. The person who was there for you in times when you needed someone. You couldn't really stay mad at Wade—even if the actions did call for the anger.

Especially not when you were still in the throws of recovering from the greatest orgasm of your life.

"I'd say I could do better, but now I'm not so sure angel face. I think Logan's won this round."

Surprisingly, you laughed. "He definitely won this round."

Logan stepped in closer when he was mentioned—his head dipping to hear Wade's voice through the phone. Unconsciously you found yourself leaning into his warmth—your body seeking out the gentle aftercare from the man who held your heart in his hands. His arm went around your waist, lips placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, and Wade groaned audibly in completely disgust.

"Would you get a room. God it's like watching an episode of WandaVision. Only this time it's the deleted scenes where they were allowed to actually fuck." He smiled, fingers forming a faux gun as he winked.

"We all know the robot dicking her down extravaganza exists Marvel. Don't lie."

"Your fault for peeking in on the show Wade," you replied, eyes fluttering shut as Logan fixed the flannel to cover as much of you as possible.

"I get it. I'm an unpaying customer. Therefore not wanted." He sighed, gesturing to no one in particular. "I mean what about those guys? They get a free show!"

"Wilson," Logan bit out, his claws sliding free to cover the top of your thighs.

Another weary (yet dramatic and totally Oscar worthy) sigh came through the phone. "I'll just dance the Lonesome Tango tonight. Don't mind me, taking all of the domesticity in so I can vomit."

You smiled when Logan nudged your cheek with his nose. "Goodnight Wade."

"Hardly good! Ness is out for the day and what about me? Don't I have needs? Am I not just a boy looking at the couple he's going to third wheel someday saying: please save some pancakes for me?"

The gasp that flew from your mouth was loud enough to be heard through the open window as Logan ripped the phone from your ear. Cussing out the man who stared at you with a Cheshire grin big enough to fill up an entire room. He waved, tossing his phone to the couch as he leaned out the window.

"Turns out you are gonna dance again peanut!"

Before you could shout a response, Logan was slamming the window shut with a growl. His claws slicing through the already fragile wood at the base of it as the lock slid into place. The middle finger he offered was all Wade got before Logan was dragging you back towards the bedroom; the decision to buy you some fucking curtains now solidified in his mind.

"Favorite movie?"

He groaned, dragging your legs over his lap as you curled into his side. "I've been alive too fuckin' long to choose honey. Tell me yours."

A wince overtook your features as Logan ran his hand up and down your bare leg—his gaze determined to trace every detail of your face a thousand times over. Hoping that over time he'd find new things to fall in love with. New pieces of you he'd grow to cherish. He settled on the shape of your lips—watching them move with each words you spoke.

"Okay don't laugh at me. It's a good movie." You toyed with his fingers, thumb tracing the spaces between his knuckles where his claws broke the skin to come free. "The Mummy."

His eyebrows pulled together. "Isn't that the one where they...fight a fuckin' mummy?"

You nodded, laughter falling on his perked up ears. "Listen! She's a librarian who gets to go on an adventure and fall in love. I'm an archivist who...well meeting you has been an adventure and..."

You fell in love.

Saying the words out loud felt wrong. Misplaced. Yet you'd never felt something sit in your chest so perfectly and feel like it belonged. Love had always been a complicated formula that felt impossible to crack. After all, no real theory ever mixed well with something so convoluted.

But nothing else could possibly make the same amount of sense with you as those three words did.

Logan watched every thought cross your face; every problem you struggled with now on full display for him to see. He willed himself to say them aloud. To simply let them fall free and settle in your heart with ease. But the last person he said them to now hated his very existence. They held an entirely different heart yet wore the exact replica of your face.

That only seemed to complicate the matter further.

So he pressed a kiss to the space between your eyebrows until the skin smoothed, and pulled you out of the internal battle you seemed to be losing.

"Tell me about your family bub."

You perked up, eyes alight with the joy that lingered from hours before. "My sister?" He nodded. "Oh well she's a teacher. Works at a high-school in the city."

"Guess you were bound to have another teacher in your life huh?" His heart twisted when you laughed, your fingers curling into his hair—toying with the sides without even realizing it.

"I guess so." You sighed, settling against his body. "It's funny, because I'd have never met Wade if it wasn't for her. This used to be her place before she—ya know—got married and stuff. Wade actually sold her the car I borrowed the day I met you."

His hand traveled higher, slipping to the curve of your hip. "Sneaky little fucker," he muttered.

"Although I think nearly killing me in the street is what really made me like him."

Logan jolted, his hand pinching your chin to face him. "What the fuck do you mean nearly killing you?"

The smile on your face did nothing to appease the fresh wave of anger that filled his body. If anything he only felt it eat away at him faster. Like a parasite with no cure. You were so calm about the entire situation. So nonchalant as you explained to him what actually happened.

That alone terrified him.

What if one day something like this happened again? What if the person who would cause you harm was someone he couldn't save you from?

Dread weighed heavy on his stomach like a rock he never intended to swallow. Even as you spoke he could feel the way it pulled at him. Dragging him into a darkness he'd never escape. He endured it once before, swam to the shore and climbed his way out, but to lose you was to put an end to his existence in this universe.

Logan couldn't die.

But he'd sure as hell find a way to if you were no longer by his side.

"I know he didn't mean to almost hit me with his knife. He was aiming for the guy behind me." You placed a kiss on his wrist, right above his pulse point. "Anyways we laugh about it now. Wade calls it fate. And since I met you...I kinda feel like he's right."

The breath caught in his chest. "Honey you got no idea..."

Lips trailed up his arm, sending chills down his spine as you placed kiss after kiss along his body. Right to his chest. Your tongue licked along his nipple—sucking it into your mouth and drawing a stuttered moan from his parted lips. His cock twitched in his jeans, the lost orgasm from earlier now raring to life with each delicate brush of your mouth on his skin.

Scraping your teeth on his pec, he felt his hips shift in an effort to find even a brief second of relief. You smiled at the feeling of him hard and aching against your thigh.

"You didn't get to cum earlier," you murmured, kissing along his jaw, nose brushing his cheek. The slight brush of your hand dipping along his stomach and down into his jeans drew a ragged groan from his chest. "Fair's fair baby."

Soft skin of your palm met his still leaking cock and the surprise that flickered across your face at the knowledge that he'd been dripping all night for you turned his mind numb. His kiss seared your entire being as you stroked him slowly. Logan shoved his jeans down the best he could with you blocking his way, simply to feel your palm drag down his length to cup his balls still covered in your sticky cum.

A breathy whine you never heard before slipped past his lips—his head falling back when your mouth latched onto his throat. Teeth and tongue sucking a mark that would fade within seconds. But catching a glimpse of the purple bruise made your heart flutter.

The wet slide of your hand filled the room with each pump. His hips canted up into your fist, fucking the slick hole you formed around him with panted grunts of nonsensical words.

It didn't build steadily like before where he held the capability of holding out. Now he felt helpless to the burn that forced its through his veins. The tension pulling taut in his stomach.

Only for you to pull away.

"W-What?" he rasped, his eyes flying open to see how you fell back on the bed—fingers popping open the shirt button by button.

"Come here," you breathed, hooking your foot around his hip. "Don't you wanna fuck my face baby?"

His mind went blank. Eyes dazed and mouth open as he watched you smile up at him—mischief shining bright in your gaze. You were an angel sent from who knows where bestowed upon him like a gift. An apology for all he'd gone through.

If the light he saw as he took his last breath was your face, he'd die a happy man.

Beckoning him forward with your hand on his thigh, Logan knelt above your chest. He could see how you longed for him to press weight against you—the feel of your palm against his ass telling him enough. But risking it would never be an option. He knew how much his skeleton as a whole weighed; you would not survive five seconds of it atop your body entirely.

"So pretty," you cooed, wrapping a hand around his cock as he shuddered. "Can I taste you Logan?"

He nodded dumbly, hand cupping the top of your head to keep himself grounded. Only for his soul to leave his body at the feel of your lips sucking him in. The wet heat of your mouth felt like a death to his heart. He'd never recover.

Yet one truth remained ingrained in the back of his mind.

He didn't want to survive.

"Fuck," he breathed, canting his hips down and into your waiting mouth.

The second his tip brushed the back of your throat, Logan knew he'd never last. He was a man lost in the depths of your body. Finding his way back to himself was never an option. You suckled on him with a whimper, letting him slowly thrust into your mouth as your fingers dug into the flesh of his ass.

Moans fell from his mouth with ease; words eventually following suit. "You fuckin' like this huh? You like me sitting on your face?"

Another muffled sound vibrated against his cock. His balls began to draw up slightly—thighs practically numb with the pleasure that consumed him. He sunk deeper, fucking your throat with a wet gasp, his body curving over yours and hand pressing to the mattress for stability.

"Fuck your mouth is heaven." He panted through the flames that licked at his spine, fighting to stay with you. "Gonna make a mess of you."

A jolt of lightning echoed across his skin when your hand slipped between his legs to fondle his balls, massaging the tender skin as tears dripped down into your hair. Whatever sanity he held left would wither away with the tendrils of his oncoming orgasm. But this isn't how he wanted to finish.

Ripping himself away, you barely got out half a question of what he was doing, before you were yanked into his lap—his tongue invading your mouth in a messy kiss. Spit spread across his cheek, but you seemed to get the hint when he grinded up into your dripping cunt.

"I promised to fill ya honey," he grunted, guiding your hand to wrap around his pulsating cock. "I don't break my promises."

With a sigh of his name pressed to his mouth, you guided him to your entrance, sinking down slowly to engulf him into your throbbing walls. A rough noise tore from his throat at the feeling—his body barely giving him enough time to comprehend that he'd been on the edge for far longer than he realized.

"Shit!" His thumb found your clit, working you over with quick circles that had your body curving into his. "'M not gonna last. Need you to fuckin' cum for me bub."

"Let go," you mumbled, dragging yourself up and off his cock. Only to sit back down hard enough to make him go blind. "Fill me up baby. Make it spill out."

His teeth set into your shoulder, claws sinking into your already ruined mattress to steady himself. He clutched you to him with a hoarse shout of your name as he came. Rope after rope of his spend spurted into your waiting body, drawing a soft breathy moan out from your swollen lips. You held him close, lips sliding along his neck, and talked him through it.

"Thank you baby," you sighed, grinding your hips along his lap. "Feels so good. So warm."

The lilt of your words bled with the adoration you felt for him in the center of your chest. The fact that you didn't finish didn't feel necessary when you had him like this. Entirely wrapped around you—face pressed into your chest and soul desperate to brush against yours.

"One of these days I'm gonna die like this bub."

You smiled, dragging your lips along his temple. "Would that be so bad?"

"Mm." Teeth scraped your skin as he slowly fell back onto the bed, taking you with him. "Probably not."

What lingered in the space between was a silence you reveled in. A peaceful kind of calm that created a bubble of warmth for the both of you to exist. Not completely in the world, yet never out of it entirely.

His body practically overheated beneath your skin, but you didn't mind the closeness. In fact, you found that you craved that above everything else. How he held you, allowed you to see the soft side of him that would normally be withheld.

This was the memory you'd hold close to your heart over the years. The one that'd always remain to give you a sense of peace in an otherwise crazy world.

"I'm really happy I met you Logan." The words weren't exactly what you wanted to say. But they felt close enough to exhibit the same emotion—the one that clawed at your heart, looking for a way to break free.

He hummed, dragging a hand down your spine. "Me too honey."

Settling atop him fully, you rested your ear where you knew his heart lay beneath layers of muscle and a cage of adamantium. The steady beat lulled you into a tranquil state. Where time no longer felt real and comfort became your only option.

Oh how you longed to remain here with him. Bound to nothing and no one, but each other.

note: i'm so sorry for what's about to befall these two.

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #my writing

302 notes · View notes

forzalando · 22 days

Note

🎶 + Charles 🥺 (ily)

What If You Change? - The Wldlfe (1.2k, slight angst/fluff, 18+)

Light streamed through gaps in the curtains - the beginning of the day’s sunrise casting a soft and gentle glow over Charles.

You’d been awake for hours at this point, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest and gently tracing the sharp lines of his nose and jaw with your eyes. You wouldn’t dare touch him, wouldn’t dare to wake him from peaceful slumber despite your urge to caress every inch of him.

With each passing hour you grew more uneasy, more certain of the impending doom that had been on your mind since last night. It had been a perfect evening - dinner, dessert, dancing (awful dancing, but dancing nonetheless), candles, rose petals, mind-blowingly amazing sex that left you sore and speechless.

It was beyond perfect, too perfect, and that yanked you suddenly and sharply out of the fantasy world that you’d been living in for the past two years. It wasn’t just the relationship that was perfect, it was undoubtedly Charles too. The kindest man you’ve ever known, the purest soul, he treated you like you were the most important thing in the world to him. Until the day you met him, you didn’t know it was even possible to love someone so much, because no one has ever made you feel the way he does.

It wasn’t an insecurity but rather the curse of overthinking, and no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t help but think that all of this would eventually come to an end.

You’ve lived long enough to know that no matter how good something is, sometimes it leaves, walks away, ends, departs, doesn’t last forever, however you'd prefer to say it, even though you desperately want it to. And with Charles - losing forever with him just wasn’t an option.

He’d never given you any reason to feel this way, had said himself many times that you were his forever, the love of his life, l’amour de ma vie. He’d said it just last night, his green eyes fixed onto your gaze as his hips rocked into yours. And, oh, you believed him wholeheartedly. Every murmured token of affection chased by heated kisses or the flick of his tongue, it was immortalized into your very soul.

But, people change their minds, and that’s the paralyzing thought that has kept you from rest.

Another half hour must have passed before Charles began to stir, stretching his arms up to the sky and then curling his body so that he was practically on top of you.

“How long have you been awake?” He hummed, nuzzling his nose against your neck and intertwining your legs. Your heart ached in your chest.

“A few hours,” you whispered. “I watched the sunrise and you looked so beautiful in the morning light I just couldn’t look away.”

“Well, then, we must stay in bed so you can get more rest. Do you want me to play with your hair? That always makes you sleepy.”

“Charles, you have so much to do today, that’s not fair. I’m fine, I promise.”

You smiled at him, your best attempt at one anyway, and prayed that his vision was still slightly blurry from sleep so he wouldn’t notice it was off. Unfortunately for you, Charles was perfectly observant and attuned to the emotions of those closest to him.

“You are not fine, what’s wrong, mon coeur?” The concern in his voice and sincerity in his eyes, life and conversation was always a safe space with Charles. There was a freedom to speak your mind and be honest in a way that you’d never shared with anyone before.

You sat up slowly, wrapping your arms around your knees and exhaling a few times before answering his question.

“I’m just worried that you’ll change your mind about me one day.”

And there it was - out in the open, lingering in the air, an admission that was a natural fear and occurrence for an over-thinker such as yourself. Charles, however, was horrified at how casually you spoke, fearful that he hadn’t done enough to assure you that to him, forever with you was just as sure as the sun rising each morning and setting each night.

“My love, that will never happen,” he whispered, rising to sit up with you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I meant every word I said last night.” He reached desperately for your hand, delicately stroking his thumb along your ring finger that carried new weight. In the excitement of the night before, and because of Charles’s insistence that you wear it while he made love to you, you’d forgotten to take it off before falling into your short, restless sleep.

You flexed your hand out in front of you, frowning at the diamond that wasn’t there the last time you’d woken up in the morning, the thing that spurred this spiral. It was perfect, beautiful, just as lovely as the man who got down on one knee just 12 hours ago and slid it onto your finger.

“You look upset looking at it. Do you…regret saying yes?” He whispered softly, you’d never heard his voice so quiet.

“Absolutely not,” you affirmed. “I just don’t want you to wake up one day and regret asking. It’s not impossible, and thinking about how…inexplicably happy I am, how I couldn’t have even dreamed a life as beautiful as this, I just got in my own head a bit. A lot. And once I started, I couldn’t stop.”

“I feel like that sometimes too, you know,” he smiled. “I can’t believe that I am so lucky that out of everyone in the world, I am the one you love. I worry that one day you’ll realize you’re far too good for me.”

You opened your mouth to object, you could never, that’s absurd, he was made perfectly for you, but he silenced you quickly with his lips. Breathing him in, feeling the taught muscles of his back flex as you rubbed your hand up and down. It was electric, soothing, and euphoric all at once - indescribable, celestial.

“When I feel that way,” he murmured against your lips, “I remember this feeling. How every touch, every kiss, every moment with you feels like coming home. And I know that you love me just as much as I love you.”

“You’re such a smooth talker, Leclerc,” you giggled, rubbing the tip of your nose against his.

“Exactly, that’s how we’ve gotten this far, no? I sweet talk you into dating me, into my bed, into being my girlfriend, and now into being my fiancée.”

He smiled brightly at you - his eyes gleaming in the morning light and quelling any fears still lingering in your mind.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For everything, always.”

“There’s no need to thank me, but you can lay down and go back to sleep with me,” he said as he pulled you into him and under the blankets. “You’re grumpy when you’re tired.”

“Grumpy enough to scare you off?” You teased, yawning deeply as his fingers threaded through your hair and the warmth of his body eased all the tension you’d been holding in yours.

“Never.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc #cl16 x reader #cl16 #f1 fluff #f1 angst #f1 fic #formula one fic #formula one

177 notes · View notes

whoopsyeahokay · 6 months

Text

October Sun

summary: you'd never been shy about sharing what you knew about the dead. to hide in plain sight was a decision you'd made behind your mother's back, all while respecting the warning she'd given you those many years ago. because, really, who would believe you?

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

tysm for all the love u guys 😭

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.2

It was the first real day of spring, the sun shining and the breeze warm, and Mathilda had coaxed you and Xavier outside for lunch. You sat in the grass beside the bleachers and were lazily watching the football team run drills when you spotted Maddie and Simon.

They joined you when you waved them over, closing the circle, Maddie beside Xavier and Simon beside her putting him to your left.

You'd seen the way Maddie and Xavier looked at each other, bashful glances and pink cheeks when they thought no one noticed. They'd been cute for each other since you'd gone to the Gorrorcon screening of Grindhouse as a group last month. It was rare that Xavier tagged along for the gory movies, but as soon as you'd mentioned Maddie's name, he hadn't needed much convincing.

While the others chatted idly, your attention drifted, tracking a footballer who appeared to be coaching a boy dressed head to toe in denim. The boy looked uncomfortable on the field, held the football like it was a baby he might drop, and grimaced when the footballer jogged backward a few yards and signaled for the ball.

You knew who they were. Knew you shouldn't be casual about witnessing a moment they thought was theirs. Only, you couldn't help yourself. The footballer was handsome. Not hot or fit or fine. Handsome. With dark, fluffy hair and soulful eyes that you wished softened for you the way Xavier's did for Maddie.

Wally Clark, stadium namesake, died doing what he loved.

Even from afar, you could see the way the muscles in his arms bunched when he tossed the ball, had to wet your lips when his shirt rose to reveal a pale stripe of skin. Instead of the sweatpants he usually donned, he wore shorts that, in different circumstances, would've earned Wally a dress code violation. Barely there, they clung to him like paint on a canvas, accentuating the curve of his ass and thickness of his furry thighs.

Have mercy...

"Leave our sweet flower alone, you know she's saving herself," Mathilda said, pulling your attention back to the conversation happening around you.

The comment she'd responded to had to have been about your virginity. A realization you shook your head at while Mathilda made herself the picture of an angel. It was one of several tactics your friend group employed to violently drag you back to earth whenever your head was in the clouds.

Xavier chuckled and nudged Mathilda's shoulder with his.

"What I miss?" You asked, glancing between the others, still a little dazed by the image Wally made on the field.

Unfortunately, Simon didn't know the rules and, curiosity piqued, asked, "Are you really?"

"Am I really what? Saving myself?" Simon nodded. You grinned, shameless, and stretched your arms above your head as if embracing the sky, "Of course I am," then dropped backward to lie on the grass.

That wasn't entirely true. Simply, your virginity wasn't something you ruminated on, having never been in a relationship, but you'd also long since accepted that you couldn't do what Mathilda had done, finding an interested partner at a concert and losing it for the sake of getting it over with. "I'm surprised Tilly didn't tell you."

Mathilda scoffed, "About your ghost?"

"Ghost?" Now Maddie was intrigued, glancing between you, Mathilda, and Xavier, seeking answers. "You're saving yourself for a ghost?"

You rolled your head toward her and winked through your aviators, laughing lightly at her shocked expression. You could tell she wasn't sure what to make of it, hovering between interested in hearing what the hell you meant by that and concerned that you were that delusional.

"So, you wanna die a virgin, got it." Simon turned to look you in the eye, expression straight for all of three seconds before he started to shake with laughter.

You sat up and swatted at him; he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to his chest, giving him the angle he needed to grind his knuckles against your scalp. He released you when you shrieked and dug your elbow into his stomach.

Once you'd both settled, "How would that even work?" Maddie wondered, raising a hand to list her thoughts on her fingers, "I mean, a) say you guys can get physical, would it be like sleeping with a corpse?" Ew. God. "And b) don't ghosts haunt the places they died? So, if there was a ghost here, you guys would have to do it in a classroom or...the janitor's closet—" "Another nail in the coffin of Romance." Xavier said. You were surprised and somewhat gleeful that Maddie was willing to lend genuine consideration to such an absurd topic, to the point you didn't see the harm in revealing, "Actually, ghosts can roam as far and wide as they want. They aren't confined the way we are. I mean, they could get stuck in a loop if their death was that traumatic, but, for the most part," You smiled at her, "Ghosts can haunt wherever their spooky little hearts desire."

It's not as if anyone really gave credence to the things you said, anyway. Proven when Simon launched into a tirade that drew a lot of inspiration from a show in the Flanaverse.

Hide in plain sight. An idea you'd concocted when the witchcore revolution had exploded on tiktok, alt kids everywhere boasting a collection of healing crystals and excusing their behavior on Mercury Retrograde. Even your mother had taken advantage of the era, promoting her services via heavily filtered videos she had your sister film.

As far as everyone was concerned, your weird ghost lore was a matter of personal opinion and not the result of your family's unique and extensive library.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

"Now what?" Simon asked, phone pressed to his ear, as he watched you retreat into the school. Probably questioning his sanity with every step after the conversation he'd just had with you.

"I don't know." Maddie admitted, picking her nails, "I really needed to believe it was true." Even though, before she'd died, Maddie had been skeptical about your sense of the supernatural.

While you'd been in the bus shelter with them, Maddie had argued at Simon to confide in you about his ability to see her. Thought, prayed, that you were perhaps too afraid to admit you could see her, too. Only, it'd become increasingly clear that you weren't faking how Maddie didn't exist in that moment with you at all.

Maddie's chin fell to her chest, eyes sullen. "She had no idea I was right here, I—" She groaned roughly and fell back against the glass, hands scrubbing her face. "—I don't know what I thought she could do to help, I just..." Hoped you'd have answers; maybe had a way of getting Maddie unstuck so she could roam further than the boundaries of the school grounds.

Too bad it was, as you'd put it, a fraud.

Simon itched to console Maddie, hated that he couldn't. He could tell she was conflicted, emotions warring between sadness and anger and resentment. You'd let her down, whether or not you'd meant to, and it stung.

"Hey," Simon said, trying to infuse some positivity into his tone, "We'll figure something out. Until then, I'll just keep doing the heavy lifting."

Maddie turned her head and regarded him softly, "I don't want to keep putting you in situations like that." She remembered Mr. Anderson manifesting behind Simon that night in autoshop, a tinge of menace in his demeanor, and winced.

"It's not like I have anything better to do." Simon shrugged and gave what amounted to a smile, "I got all this free time since my best friend went missing."

A pungent silence crept in and hung in the air between them, neither willing to address that went missing was putting a delusional spin on it.

💀___________________________

PART ONE - PART THREE

also available on AO3!

MATERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Simon Elroy #Kristian Ventura #Maddie Nears #Peyton List #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #October Sun

269 notes · View notes

saturnville · 7 months

Text

and I drove you crazy, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae

content: John is prepared to show Amelia that he is committed to her and only her. part two to sad girl. 18+ steam.

an: thoughts on MOTA pt. 7? again, thank you @turn-thy-paige for the letter-writing ideas.

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa @lovebyceleste

“Bucky, you haven’t shown her that you’re committed to her. She’s not obligated to wait around while you figure it out. You either want her or you don’t. But a woman like her doesn’t come around often, so I suggest you choose wisely. Other men are waiting to take your place.”

The words replayed in his mind like a song he couldn’t help but hum the words to. The logic of his best friend imprinted itself on the forefront of his mind. You either want her or you don’t. You either want her or you don’t. Choose wisely. Wise choices. Other men. Waiting. To take his place. His stomach churned in discomfort.

The sun dipped below the horizon, hues of orange and pink across the sky. John found himself alone with his thoughts, as he had been for majority of the day. The weight of his burdened his strong shoulders, and the fear of Amelia slipping through his fingers gnawed at his heart. His fingertips drummed against the iron headboard as his mind raced faster than a Jeep on a gravel road.

The silence in the room was deafening. He rose to his feet and paced around the room, his sock-clad feet slipping against the floor with every movement. With a heavy sigh, he collapsed against the bed again, carding through his hair in frustration. He knew he had to make things right, but where to begin, he wondered. That was the question that tormented him as he stared out the window, watching as the sun and moon traded places.

John felt stuck. He felt emotions he’d never felt before. They were big, they were intense, and they were overwhelming. He was rattled by Buck’s words, uncomfortable with the thought of another man looking in her direction, calling her beautiful, or asking her to dance. What would he do if she decided she wanted nothing to do with him? If she left him high and dry as she moved onto another man? His lip twitched in disgust.

He couldn’t believe it; a woman who he hadn’t known for even a year had turned his world upside down and it drove him insane. Caring for someone on such a deep level wasn’t what he was used to and it was an odd feeling. Having his chest cave, his throat constrict, and his shoulders burdened with guilt. Major Egan wasn’t sensitive to such things. But, John was.

His resolve solidified, John retrieved his boots and hastily packed a few belongings into his backpack. As he prepared to leave, a sleeping Buck stirred, casting a curious glance his way. "Where are you going?" Buck's voice was laced with concern, but John's determination was unwavering. "Amelia?" he guessed correctly.

John nodded, a sense of urgency propelling him forward. "I need to talk to her," he muttered, his jaw set in determination. With a final nod to his friend, he slipped out into the night, the weight of his goal heavy on his shoulders.

It was late. He was surprised when she let him enter her home. By the look she gave him, she seemed disturbed by his presence. He felt as though he had to walk on eggshells; the last thing he wanted to do was give her a reason to push him out and slam a door in his face. He had to be calculated. Meticulous.

John slid his bag off his shoulder and it hit the floor with an echoing thud. Amelia did not wait for him to gather his bearings before she walked away. He followed her into the kitchen, where she grabbed a ceramic mug from her cabinet and turned on the kettle. Its high-pitched whistle disrupted the disgustingly tense atmosphere his presence created. She swiped a tea bag from beside her stack of letters, placed it in the mug, and poured the piping hot water on top.

“Sugar?” she asked without facing him. He requested two teaspoons. She placed the mug in his hand. Always so considerate. However, the hope he had diminished at her question, “What brings you here, Major?” John forced himself not to roll his eyes in annoyance Had he upset her that badly? He sighed heavily and circled the rim of the mug with his fingertip.

“I wanted to talk to you, Rose.”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed. Her eyebrow rose and her tongue circle the roof of her mouth. It had been seven days since they’d spoken for more than five minutes and he came to talk to her late at night? She found herself growing more frustrated by his antics, but more disappointed by her inability to stand her ground. She refused to show any signs of weakness, so sternly she replied, “So talk.”

John pressed his back against the island, wincing once the draw handle punctured a weak spot. He placed the mug behind him. Carefully, he said, “You’ve been avoiding me. What’s that about?” Calculated. Meticulous. Walking on eggshells.

Her jaw clenched evidently. The muscles in her neck strained, her nostrils flared, and one again, her tongue circled the roof of her mouth. He recognized those mannerisms easily; she was thinking and trying to come up with an answer.

"I just figured I needed some space," she said after some time, her voice tentative yet resolute. “That’s all.”

John's expression shifted, a mixture of frustration and concern flickering across his features. So, we're doing this, he thought to himself. His chuckle was hollow, devoid of any amusement. Meeting her gaze, his voice was low as he probed, "Is that right?"

Her arms crossed defensively over her chest, a shield against the vulnerability of their conversation. She met his gaze with a hint of defiance, but her eyes betrayed the emotions swirling within her. With a hesitant nod, she affirmed, "That is correct."

His jaw tightened at her response, a surge of emotions rising within him. "You want to tell me why?" he pressed, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and longing.

Silence. Her jaw shook and her eyes welled with tears. She was strong enough to keep her rigid stature, but not enough to keep the lone tear from streaming down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly. “I don’t think we are on the same page here, John. I can’t tell if you’re wanting to be with me for entertainment or if you’re serious.”

“Amelia--”

She cut him off. “You take me out, you buy me a dozen roses a week, you send me letters, yet, for an entire weekend, I see women in your face…and what don’t you do? Reject their advances.”

He didn’t bother to speak as he knew she wasn’t finished.

“If you want a plaything, fine. A casual girlfriend, fine. You need to be honest and say it as it is. But I’ll let you know, I won’t be either one of those. I’m a good woman.”

John used his hands to press off the counter. He took a step toward her. “I know you are, Amelia, and its obvious I have made you feel that I don’t see that. I’m not going to say you’re right, but I can agree that I never made it clear with you what I wanted.”

Amelia’s chin rose as she soaked in his words.

“I do want to be committed to you. It hasn’t appeared that way, and I’m sorry. But, I haven’t cheated on you and I never will. I want this to work…I want to be yours in every way; tell me what I need to do, Amelia…”

He sounded so hopeless. His walls were torn like Jericho and left at her feet. Everything was new to him—love, commitment, and how to do it. John knew it left no room for excuse, but that was his honest truth. Everyday, he was learning how to love someone more than himself.

“Just put yourself in my shoes, Egan. I just wanted to be yours, in all ways, and I want to feel wanted by you. So, knowing that, how would you feel if you witnessed what I did, regardless of how loyal I claimed to be…”

The thought alone would drive him insane. He resisted the urge to show the look of despair that fought to show on his face. John urgently repeated, “Tell me what I need to do, Amelia.”

There was a moment of silence. Just a moment. It seemed like an eternity for John, who resumed drumming his fingertips, this time against the side of his thigh.

In an even tone and cadence, Amelia simply said, “Prove it.”

“Oh…” She was breathless. Her words were interrupted by soft whispers against the shell of her ear. She sighed softly against his face and wrapped her arm around his broad shoulders. “Johnny.”

Through hooded eyes, he caught a glimpse of her face. Her hair, which was usually pressed, was a curly array against her floral pillows. Her forehead glistened with the faintest sheen of sweat, which only made her glow under the rays of the moonlight. Her eyes were screwed shut and her lips were just hardly parted. Softly, he said, “My pretty girl.”

He brought his lips to hers, swallowing her soft cries and gentle moans. “I love you, darlin’. Do you love me?” She whimpered weakly, tracing the ridges of his muscles with her fingers. He winced when her fingertips dug into his skin.

“Yes!” she cried out. “I love you, I love you…”

As their bodies melted into each other, tangled in a fervent embrace, they whispered declarations of love into the quiet night. The four letter word sealed the bond between them. Love. And it was so.

270 notes · View notes

mellifluouaamor · 5 months

Text

TANJIROU KAMADO ⍣ FEMALE READER

synopsis. tanjirou thinks you're like a flower.

you're just like a wisteria flower, TANJIROU would always think to himself. beautiful and elegant, kind yet resilient - and your beauty was akin to that of a blooming flower. there's an air of tranquility around you whenever you're on the battlefield, the smile you'd wear soothing your frazzled teammates and reassuring them that everything will be okay.

tanjirou never regretted meeting you that day - the day he saved you from being devoured. you were the only survivor of the squad that was sent to the inn infested by a formidable demon, and he clearly remembered witnessing you struggle to live as you fought with a breath style that he had never seen before: the breath of ayatori style. it appeared to branch off from the breath of love style as it heavily involved agility and flexibility, and the blade of your nichirin sword was also identical to the love pillar's. watching you fight was like watching a dancer perform, and he had never been so mesmerised by graceful movements meant to kill.

after his first meeting with you, the two of you grew closer to each other, and slowly but surely, stronger feelings blossomed in your hearts.

when the sun rose from the horizon, marking the break of dawn, tanjirou was prompted to pick up his pace and ended up jogging the rest of the way to the butterfly estate. he had received worrying news of you returning from a mission severely injured just as he completed his, and he wanted to check up on you as soon as possible.

as he approached the familiar gates of the butterfly estate, he spotted a particular flower growing amongst yellow daffodils. its striking purple colour reminded him of you, causing him to stop in his tracks. would you like this? he could bring it as a small gift since he didn't think of bringing anything for you until this moment.

without another second to waste, tanjirou knelt down and plucked the sweet violet.

❀

tanjirou spotted you lying on your side on the veranda. you were fast asleep, eyelids drawn shut and lips slightly parted as soft breaths slipped past them. traversing the garden, he soon came to a stop in front of your resting form before reaching out to brush away the stray strands of hair covering your face.

he hesitated to wake you up because of how peaceful you looked. although he could have just left the violet for you to wake up to, he wanted to give it to you in person, all so he could see your expression light up like the sky at dawn. tanjirou released a long, drawn-out sigh and then lowered himself on his knees, eyes never leaving you. he subconsciously moved his free hand to cup your face, his thumb tenderly caressing your cheek.

as if on cue, you drifted out of your slumber, your eyelashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks. a slight frown etched itself onto your countenance when you tried to figure out who was in front of you.

"tanjirou...?" you mumbled, recognising his scarlet hair, "what are you doing here?" stifling a yawn, you carefully propped yourself up on your elbow, kneading one eye with a fist.

"why are you sleeping out here?" he asked, chuckling, "the mornings are still cold."

"i was stargazing last night... i guess i accidentally fell asleep," you replied, scratching your lower cheek sheepishly. you then gave tanjirou your signature smile and added, "welcome back by the way! you must be tired from your mission."

he beamed. "thank you! but i'm probably not as tired as you. you should sleep on a proper bed since you're still healing from your injuries..." his gaze swept over the bandages on your body as his red hues flashed with concern. "how are you feeling?"

"some parts of my body are sore, but i'm generally feeling okay. kochou-san said i should avoid strenuous work for now," you said, shifting your body to sit properly.

suddenly remembering the flower in his grasp, tanjirou presented you with the sweet violet he had intended to give you, making your eyes widen.

"it's for you!" he chirped, "i found a flower that reminded me of you on my way here. i... think it suits you."

your cheeks heated up at his remark. with a shy "thank you", you happily accepted the flower and inhaled its sweet scent. "it smells nice... and it's so pretty."

"just like you," tanjirou blurted out before covering his mouth upon realising what he just said.

instead of getting embarrassed, you surprised him by leaning over to kiss his cheek, eliciting a blush from him.

"you're so cute~" you cooed, giggling.

tanjirou let out a huff. before your brain could register what was happening, you found yourself being carried like a princess in his strong arms. you immediately clung to his shoulders with a squeal, afraid that he might drop you (even though you knew that he wouldn't) as he strode away.

"h-hey! put me down!" you exclaimed, kicking your legs.

feeling a bit bold, tanjirou leaned towards your face and lightly bumped your nose with his, smiling. your breath hitched in your throat; that little gesture was effective in silencing you as he brought you inside the infirmary and tucked you in bed.

truly, you're a flower he wants to protect with his life.

#loveletters—!#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #scenario #female reader

379 notes · View notes

incendiobrock · 6 months

Text

Ghosted {Matt Sturniolo}

Request: Hi could I request Matt x reader.(Dialogue 20,action 17)The reader is Matt’s best friend but she loves him.It gets hard when he kinda ghosts her for this girl he has been seeing.When they do hang out that’s when the reader pours her heart out to him.Very much angst in the beginning but hopefully a fluffy ending.Thank you !

Prompt(s): accidental confession + “Are you crying?”

Warnings: language, angst, fluffy ending!

“We’re almost there.” Matt said softly, gently waking you up from your sleep. The plane was finally landing in Boston after hours of being in the air. Matt was kind enough to give you the window seat, knowing you would want to rest your head against it so you could take a nap.

“How long was I out for?” You questioned, feeling groggy and slightly out of it. Matt laughed, “You fell asleep maybe thirty minutes into the flight… And that’s a big maybe! It was honestly more like twenty minutes.” A smile grew on your face as a blush rose to your cheeks. He would always tease you because you could practically fall asleep under any circumstance. In the car, on a plane, on the couch, and you vaguely remembered falling asleep at the kitchen table at least once in your life.

Matt’s mom met you both outside of baggage claim greeting you both with a big hug. You would be staying at their childhood home for a few days, accompanying Matt with some secret project he was working on. Chris and Nick had decided to stay in LA which meant you had plenty of time to spend alone with Matt.

It was weird not having the others with you but you were excited to hang out with your best friend one on one. There had been talk of watching some movies, going to eat at some of your favorite Boston restaurants, and meeting up with some of your old high school friends together.

Matt had some plans for the first night, he was going to catch up with Nate and some others. You were going to just crash at the house and let them have a boys night, especially since it had been a few months since they had last seen each other. What you didn’t anticipate was that Matt would be completely ignoring your texts. Hours had passed and he hadn’t responded to your message asking when he would be coming back.

The sun was completely gone out of the sky and it was nearing midnight. The bedroom you would be sharing was dark and the bed you laid on felt unusually empty.

Are you okay? Haven’t heard from you in awhile

You texted him again, nerves getting the best of you. It wasn’t like him to not be on his phone for this long. Before you knew it the night had turned into morning and there was still no signs of Matt. It was a miracle you had even been able to fall asleep last night without hearing back from him.

The smell of bacon filled the house as you made your way out to the kitchen. You expected to see Mary Lou cooking your favorite breakfast but instead you were met with the sight of Matt’s back as he faced the stove.

“So what, you’re just ghosting me now?” You somewhat joked, causing him to turn around and see you standing at the island.

Matt didn’t reply as his phone buzzed, echoing off the counter where it was placed. You watched intently as he began to text back, assuming it must have been Chris or Nick since they never spend this much time apart. It became suspicious to you when you noticed how he was grinning about whatever he was reading.

“Oh so you do know how to use your phone…” You scoffed, insinuating the fact that he never responded to your messages from last night.

“Sorry, I was busy and forgot to respond.” He said, brushing you off.

As soon as the words left his mouth he was quickly tucking his phone away into his pants pocket. His lips forming a tight line as he glanced at the ceiling, twiddling his fingers now that they were set free from his phone screen. The sound of his phone buzzing still noticeable, even muffled by his pocket.

“Matt- Who is it and why are they blowing up your phone?” You pressed, his body language was setting off a million alarms in your head.

He was hiding something from you.

Matt sighed as his phone buzzed once again, he pulled it back out of his pocket and began to look over the messages he had received. Six messages to be exact.

I’m so happy you’re back in boston for a few days.

I would love to meet up again while you’re still here

We could go to that place we used to go to

What was it called?

Davis Park???

I remember we used to go there to watch the sunset by that little pond, I really miss that… Thanks again for last night, I had so much fun :)

You couldn’t help but read over his shoulder, your heart sank as you realized what had him so giddy. He was texting the girl that he used to have a thing with before you guys moved to LA. He had decided it would be best to not continue anything serious with her so as far as you knew he had cut ties with her. A familiar stinging sensation began in your eyes as tears started to form. You had no reason to be jealous, Matt was just your friend.

Nervously, you coughed trying to clear your throat, trying your best to think of anything else besides Matt with someone else. Next thing you knew you were sniffling, still fighting back the urge to cry.

“Are you crying?” Matt asked, sounding genuinely concerned as he watched you head back towards the stairs, trying to quickly remove yourself from the confines of the kitchen.

You stopped in your tracks at his voice, feeling your body tremble. You weren’t sure if it was from anger, nerves, or the overwhelming feeling of your heart being crushed.

“Y/n?”

The tears started to fall as your head spun thinking about how you had been ghosted immediately as he reunited with somebody else.

You turned around to face him, wanting to yell and scream and possibly cuss him out for the way he had treated you. A scowl was plastered on your face as you heaved in some air, trying to maintain some of your composure.

“You can’t seriously be upset about this?”

You felt your eyes roll bigger than they ever had before, was he hearing himself right now?

“Matt, you literally ghosted me. You could’ve died for all I know!” You said, raising your voice but trying hard not to yell since this wasn’t your house.

“I was busy.” He restated, as if that was any excuse to completely ignore someone he called his ‘best friend’.

“So I heard,” You scoffed, more tears leaving your eyes and staining your cheeks. How humiliating, letting him see you in this vulnerable of a state when he clearly doesn’t give a damn about you.

“You know Matt, if you weren’t so fucking stubborn maybe you would realize that there’s a girl who’s madly in love with you who doesn’t live halfway across the country!” You spit, realizing what you had said immediately after saying it. A hand flew over your mouth as your eyes widened in shock, “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t meant that.” You practically whispered.

Matt had closed the distance off between the two of you, now standing directly in front of you. “You what?” He asked back softly, searching your eyes for any hint that might confirm that you were telling him the truth.

Your body stayed frozen, unable to speak. “You’re in love with me?” He asked another question, breaking the suffocating tension that filled the air.

“Is that what I said?” You tried to joke, playing off your slip up.

“Yeah, that’s definitely what you said.”

His hands were now delicately taking ahold of your own, trying to ease your nerves and catch your full attention.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just- you’re my best friend and all…” You rambled.

“That’s a shame, because the only reason I was out last night was because I was trying to avoid the fact that i’m madly in love with you.”

You felt your heartbeat speed up at his words, your cheeks heating up in return, “Really?”

“Really.” He replied. His eyes bore into your own, a slight gleam inside of them displaying his admiration for you.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, bringing a hand up to brush some hair behind your ear before resting it on the side of your face. “Please do.” You answered, anticipating his next move that you had been waiting an antagonizing amount of time for.

His lips met yours in a slow but passionate manner, taking in every detail of your lips with his own. You melted at the touch, instantly forgetting any of your jealousy. If you would have known how addicting his lips would feel on yours you would’ve confessed a lot sooner. When you finally pulled apart he rested his forehead on yours, breathless.

You could definitely get used to this.

#matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

227 notes · View notes

ninii-winchester · 10 days

Text

Behind Closed Doors (Part 3)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, cliffhanger lol, not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

The engaged couple spent a blissful week in the Bahamas, with lazy mornings on the beach, where they enjoyed the sun and turquoise waters. They explored hidden coves, snorkeled among vibrant coral reefs, and took sunset boat rides that painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. Evenings were filled with romantic dinners by the ocean, where they savored local cuisine and each other's company. Between laughter and quiet moments, their bond deepened, making the trip a perfect escape from work and the stressful life they led.

On Monday, they were back home and back to work. The of them were at their respective workspaces catching up on missed work. Y/n sat at her desk, skimming through the files that were placed in front of her when the telephone on her desk rang.

“Winchester Co, this is Dean Winchester’s office.” She said answering the phone with a professional tone. She waited for the person on the other end to introduce themselves. It was Mary Winchester. After exchanging pleasantries Mary asked her if Dean was free. “He’s catching up on the work he missed while he was away.” She replied, almost saying ‘while we were away’ but caught herself before she could ruin it all. She knew she had to wait for Dean to tell his mother about them.

“Could you ask him if he can come home for lunch?” Mary said and Y/n nodded although the other woman can’t see her.

“If you’d give me a minute.” She replied asking her to be on hold while she goes and asks Dean. She knocked on the door and went in when she heard his approval. Dean looked up to see Y/n enter and his face immediately morphed into a smile. “Hey! Your mom called and she’s asking if you could go over theirs for lunch?”

“Am I free?” Dean questioned getting up from his chair and walking over to her. She nodded in response. “Well then you can tell her, I’ll be there.” He said holding her waist. “Might as well tell them about us.” He leaned down to peck her lips. Her face broke into a huge smile and she quickly kissed him but he deepened the kiss pulling her close. She pulled away from him.

“Your mom’s on hold, waiting for me.” She scolded him lightly and he chuckled. He let her rush out of the room but not before smacking her rear, and she turned to glare at him. With quick steps she reached back to the phone and with a deep breath she picked it up. “He said he’ll be there, Mrs.Winchester.” The older woman thanked her and hung up.

A few hours later Dean left to meet his parents. When he returned, Y/n was right where he had last seen her, at her desk working diligently. He really admired her for her work, she never used her relationship with him as reason to slack off.

Y/n looked up to see Dean coming back but he didn’t seem to be in a good mood. His brows were furrowed, eyes narrowed and his jaw was tensed. He seemed frustrated or irritated. He moved past her and went inside his office without a word. Y/n furrowed her brows at his behaviour clearly not expecting him to ignore like she followed him inside.

“Dean?”

“Not now.” He replied with a sharp intensity in his gaze.

“Baby what’s wrong?” She tried again but he didn’t answer her.

“I said not now, Y/n. Get out of here, right now.” He bellowed and she jumped back a bit. He knew he fucked up the minute he looked at her, before he could open his mouth to apologise, she shook her head and left the room. The whole day Dean tried to approach her but she gave him the cold shoulder.

Y/n went back home when she was done for the day. She was midway preparing her dinner when her doorbell rang. She sighed dropping the spoon she was using to stir the pasta sauce because she knew who was at the door. She opened the door and there stood Dean. He had bouquet of red roses in his hands and an apologetic look on his face. At least he knows he fucked up. Without another word she left the door open and went back to her food.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly entering the kitchen. “I really am, I’m an A grade asshole who doesn’t deserve your forgiveness but you know I’d be a mess without you.” He said standing behind her and pulling her into a back-hug. “I’m sorry sweetheart I promise I won’t do it ever again.” He mumbled in her neck.

“Never again?” She asked turning her head slightly to look at him better.

“Never.” Dean said sincerely. “I promise.”

“That was the first and the last time you’ve pulled this, you hear me?” Y/n said sternly and he nodded eagerly. “Forgiven. But—” she held a hand up before he could get too excited. “If you’re staying you’re sleeping on the couch.” She added. Dean’s eyes widened and he immediately protested.

“What- baby no!”

“Yes!” She said crossing her arms against her chest. “Just so you’d remember not to be a bitch to me next time.” Dean wanted to argue but he knew he was fault so he had to make it up to her by proving to her that he’s remorseful and he’d never do it ever again.

“Fine. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He said dejectedly. “But I’m not compromising on kisses.” He said turning the stove off and smashing his lips to hers. He picked her up and placed her onto to counter. He slithered between her legs, resting his hands onto her waist. “I’m sorry, i missed you.” He mumbled against her lips.

“What actually happened?” She asked pulling away from him. He tensed a bit, avoiding eye contact. “Did she not approve of us?” She questioned meekly, already coming up with the worst case scenario.

“No!” He excalimed quickly. “No, my mom, she just said some stuff that pissed me off and i stormed off before I could tell her about us.” He said looking into her eyes. “I disappointed you twice today, I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward for me to tell my family.”

“It’s okay Dean, I’m just worried about what she said that made you so angry. I’ve never seen you like his before.” She said running her hand through his hair and he leaned into her touch.

“Just about work, she thinks I’ve become impudent ever since I’ve become CEO.” Dean rolled his eyes repeating what his mother said.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n said not knowing what else to say. Dean brushed it off telling her it wasn’t her fault. Disregarding the issue Dean suggested dinner and the two of them sat in silence. After dinner Y/n declared she’s going to bed and Dean very sneakily tried to get in bed with her but she withstood her request.

“I had a bad day. And I said I’m sorry.” Dean whined like a child and she swore this man is not her boss. He is literally a different person outside of work and no one could ever convince her otherwise.

“No, just because you had a bad day doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. Let this be a lesson.” Dean reluctantly settled onto the couch. After hours of tossing and turning he had finally managed to fall asleep. Y/n looked at the clock, it read 3 am and she couldn’t sleep. Softly padding across her apartment she made her way to the couch, pulling the blanket off of Dean she settled beside him. Dean smiled in his sleep, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her closer. He knew she’d come around and she knew too that they’d both eventually end up on the couch.

The next few days were uneventful, Y/n went back and forth between home to work and vice versa, with Dean following her home everyday. It was normal Thursday afternoon, Y/n had just gotten off phone with Cas, she asked him where the hell has he disappeared to and he’d told her he had to fly to France for a charity event for a week. She told him to come back soon since she’s got news to share with him. Although she was pretty sure he was in on the plan when Dean suggested the vacation.

Y/n was buried deep in work when she heard the clicking of heels on the marble floor and she looked up to see a woman around her age sauntering over to her. She was ready to greet the woman with her well practiced professional smile but the woman walked past her towards Dean’s office. She quickly jumped from her desk chair and went behind her.

“Ma’am you can’t go in there.” The woman turned to face Y/n. “Do you have an appointment?” She asked but the brunetter shook her head. “I’m afraid I cant let you in there without an appointment.” Y/n said softly.

“I’m sure you’re just doing your job, darling but it’s fine. He won’t mind.” The woman replied with a smile.

“I wouldn’t be so sure ma’am, he doesn’t like unscheduled visitors.” She tried to be polite but she was running out of patience with this woman.

“It’s alright, I’m his fiancée.”

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

@10ava01

108 notes · View notes

rustytrident · 2 years

Text

beelzebub who has obscure knowledge because he cares so much about his brothers' interests, they become his, too – or, a slight beelzebub character study at 3am because i need it and so do you.

beelzebub who can name every constellation in the night sky of all three realms, who knows both astrology and astronomy, who has read all of belphie's essays and research papers, who was there when they were written.

beelzebub who knows how to play (and cheat, and win) about every casino game, who knows how to do fast math even if he doesn't really care for it, who checks the fucking stock market every morning to see if mammon's mood will be affected by it or not.

beelzebub who knows the difference between the scent of white and red roses, who knows how to properly do your (and his) makeup, who has memorised which products are good for his complexion and how many times a day he needs to apply sunscreen, because asmo swears that the fridge light hits him as much as the sun would have in the human world.

beelzebub who can quote jane austen and poe and shakespeare and euripides from memory, who makes references from books that were destroyed with the library of alexandria, who knows about every breed of cat there is, who listens to satan explain whose fur is the thickest and whose the softest.

beelzebub who will rewatch tsl for hours, who will carry boxes upon boxes of games upstairs, who will (poorly) draw ruri from memory, who will know how to play most games levi hyperfixates on and the plot from most anime he has rambled about.

beelzebub who knows even the most bizzare of genres of music, who can taste the difference between a thousand year and a thousand and one year aged demonus, who immediately recognises the jazz song lucifer is playing when he wants to spend quality time with him but doesn't want to disturb him.

beelzebub who, if you ask him about his interests, will reply that he doesn't really have any, who will search within him for an ounce of self, who will give up after a while because he is six beings in one, and he doesn't know if there's room for one more.

beelzebub who decides that it's okay to be a mosaic of his favourite beings, who finds out that he has been carrying seven in him all along, who gazes in your – a human's – eyes and understands why she fought and why she fell and why she tried so much.

beelzebub who, in his spare time, will go in the human world to visit museums and archaeological sites and long abandoned villages, who will reminisce about when everything he just saw was once new and shining, who will retrace the steps he took aeons ago, alone this time.

beelzebub who often feels lost, who grieves and eats and grieves some more, who carries the memory of his sister because he once read that one truly stops existing when they are forgotten, yet smiles when he sees red roses and shiny coins and old books and video games and cursed records and the starry sky, who sighs into your neck right before he falls asleep and promises to never forget the way your skin feels under his.

beelzebub who, without you asking him, tells you he likes flowers and animals, who likes everything the sun touches, whose eyes glimmer when you ask him to tell you about yarrows and their meaning and their colours, who will explain in a heartbeat, just for you.

beelzebub whose self is a wounded one, a fighting one, whose self is a memory box he just keeps adding into, a scrapbook of eternity's erosion, who finds happiness in the little things, in the simple things, who binds his family together.

beelzebub who loved and loves and will love until there's nothing of him left, until he is the last one remembering, until the night sky is no longer a painting, but just an accumulation dead stars.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #beelzebub obey me #beelzebub x reader #i feel like he has so much depth #and if he doesn't he does in my head #some people only view him as the nom nom himbo but good lord #i beg to differ #finally being able to let out the 2 year beel brainrot to real humans and not the voices in my head is fantastic #i hope this wasn't too messy #sing me a song // the song of our glory

2K notes · View notes

yelena-bellova · 9 months

Text

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x Reader - One Shot #3

Talking to the Sky

Plot: While doing some gardening, Y/n deals with unpleasant memories.

Word Count: 753

Warnings: loss of a child, ptsd, (16+)

A/N: Miss me? I know it’s been a while but to be honest, fic writing has just not been a priority. But I wanted to finish this one and get it out since I promised to continue this every once and a while. Since we’re all preoccupied again because of award seasons, I thought it was a good time to revisit Rosebud and Joel.

This one’s a bit more sad than the last few, but I really wanted to do one just of Rose dealing with some of her s-it. Hope it’s somewhat enjoyable!!

————

Winter was somewhere in that middle bit. Jackson had weathered the worst of the storms, but the fierce cold hadn’t let up yet.

Y/n cursed her gloves, two times too big for her hands, as she dug up the soil of her backyard. She was attempting to plant a garden, emphasis on attempting. She’d done a fair amount of gardening pre-Cordyceps, but that was purely for pleasure. This had more weight to it.

Those who worked the greenhouses had helped her during their shifts. They’d taught Y/n which plants grew during which seasons, some blooming best in winter and others in the summer. There was a science to it more important than ever to know.

Y/n was planting a medley of vegetables, fruit and herbs. She couldn’t feel her knees anymore, the cold having sept into her joints within minutes. She built a few mounds, burying the seeds below and allowing enough space between piles.

She sat back on her feet, struck by a memory she’d been trying to ignore.

Flower bushes.

The looming warmth of a Texas spring.

Sarah’s laughter.

Dirt under their fingernails.

Y/n sighed, her chest aching from something far sharper than the cold.

Finding Joel in Boston hadn’t been the catalyst to bringing back life to her memories. Sarah had lived in her mind every minute of every day since the girl had left the Earth. Etched in her heart till the end of time. But between settling in Jackson and marrying Joel, living some strange version of the life they’d wanted, it breathed new air into Sarah’s ghost. Sometimes it rendered Y/n speechless, frozen somewhere between the past and the present.

She looked up the sky, the cloud coverage shielding her eyes from the sun.

“You hated when I made you do this,” Y/n spoke to the air, “You never liked getting your hands dirty but you were smiling. The whole time. So there was never much weight to what you said.”

“I remember that time we were planting those flowers in the backyard,” she continued, “Daisies or roses…I don’t really remember, just that they were beautiful when they bloomed that summer. That your dad wouldn’t admit to them prettying up the place because ‘What’s there to pretty up?’”

Y/n chuckled, Joel had never made a big deal about the little changes Sarah and her made to the house. They both knew he secretly liked them and loved the two of them too much to ever say no.

“He’s gotten worse, if you can imagine it,” Y/n looked down at her shovel, wiping some of the dirt off, “If you thought he was bad in the morning then,” she whistled, “But he’s also…better. He’s him.”

Y/n sunk into the snow a little deeper. The cold didn’t matter anymore. “The other day, I caught him humming to himself. He was doing the dishes and I came in from patrol and…it just reminded me of all the times we’d catch him singing and he’d deny it,” she smiled, “We’d literally be standing right there and he’d say it was the fridge or something.”

Her little laugh quieted, turning somber. The sweet memory inevitably turned sad.

“God, I miss you,” Y/n whispered as her throat tightened, “I miss you so much. Everything I do in this house, I keep looking over and expecting you to be right next to me.“

She paused, beginning to feel just a drop of the sun’s distant warmth. “And then your dad comes in or Uncle Tommy and it’s like you’re there. Making us laugh, calling us old…and for two seconds, it feels okay. Not perfect, but alright, and I can get through the rest of the day,” Y/n rubbed her running nose and looked back up at the sky, “Just keep doing that. Don’t ever leave us down here on our own.”

Y/n had long lost track of time since starting her work, and she didn’t hear the front door open. Joel was home from patrol duty. He walked through the empty house, looking more and more like their home each day, looking for someone to greet.

“Rose,” Y/n heard Joel call from inside. She wiped a melancholy tear away and got to her feet.

Taking one more look at the grey sky, she smiled, as if Sarah was radiating her presence down from the clouds. Telling her to get inside and hug her husband. Help make dinner. Make their remote corner of the world a little brighter. Just as Sarah would have.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @themultifandomofmadness @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (more tags in comments 🩵)

#the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #twenty years later

170 notes · View notes

thedgeoftheuniverse · 6 months

Text

THE DETRIMENTS OF HUMANITY.

CHAPTER ONE — NOW.

Four years after The Rumbling, Levi is still mourning the past.

[ TAGS: post war levi, depression, swearing, levi deals with chronic pain, heartbreak, what do you call a breakup when you never even dated in the first place? ]

The sun rose above Marley with hues of orange, yellow, and a smattering of dusty pink—a stark contrast to what was a black and moonless sky, the colors blanketed the city below and slowly began to cast a warm embrace on the landscape. Through the crack of an east-facing window, a blinding beam of light shone and disturbed the already restless sleep Levi was in. Despite everything, it was a welcome change; for six days straight, it rained and poured and rained just a little more. The sky raged and cracked with little consideration for him or the condition of his ragged body.

The pain was worse on those days.

Not to imply that there was truly ever a good day, but some were—objectively—worse than others. On the third day of the deluge, the pain split him in half and left him bleeding out in his bed, with tears threatening the corners of his eyes. His legs and what limited mobility he still grasped onto betrayed him, as did the pounding of his head and aching of his spine. He laid there for nearly six hours before allowing Falco (who had begun to grow faster than the day could turn to night) to assist him into his wheelchair. God, did he ever detest it, but he gave up fighting it a year or so ago. He despised the feeling of helplessness that arose from needing the assistance of a sixteen-year-old boy and a wooden chair to make it to the kitchen, but such is the hand with which he was dealt. His knee seemed determined to buckle under his own weight, and his cane provided little to no support in the matter.

Not all days were so intense.

Most days were fine.

Bearable. Tolerable.

Most days, he could scrape himself together and get out of bed, go to work—the tea shop owner, a sweet older lady by the name of Marsha, purchased a comfortable chair for him to keep at the front counter and never complained when he had to call off at the last minute—and entertain Gabi and Falco on the nights they spent at his home. Most days, the pain amounted to that of a half-healed broken bone (he says he’s had worse when Gabi chastises him. She knows she can't argue because she was there for the worst of it), and his cane was a sufficient aid once he accepted that the subsequential limp was a permanent fixture in his gait; it was subtle, but it was there. Most days, Levi could care for himself. Most days, his vision was clear, and the headache only reached his temples. His legs trembled only slightly as he combed through his hair, and he was only plagued by memories of the past in his sleep.

(You were always there. This doesn’t make sense anymore.)

On the night of the third day, Levi (forever as stubborn as a mule) collapsed on the floor, a mere three feet from his bed.

Falco entered the room in a flurry. “Levi! Are you okay?”

He batted his hand away. “I'm fine, brat.” Determined to refuse the help. Most days, Falco could handle Levi’s prickliness in stride. On that third day, he felt dejected but nevertheless aided a wholly agitated and combative Levi into bed. In spite of everything, he could not bring himself to be angered, because what is left of a man once stripped of all he once held dear? of his sense of purpose? What is left of a soldier after the fight is won? Falco didn't know much, but he knew the answer resided somewhere behind the eyes that Levi so desperately tried to hide. Perhaps that clouded, milky iris was the answer—nothing. Perhaps, once deprived of the very essence of his being (he would always be a soldier at heart but no longer in practice), misplaced aggression was all that remained.

In the early hours of the fourth day, Levi awoke with a searing pain in his knee. He did not have to move his legs or pull up his pant leg to know there was an ugly, angry bruise beneath the surface of the scar. Much like that previous morning, the pain ripped through his body and rendered him speechless. The pills on his bedside table did little to dull his agony, and they tasted like utter shit when swallowed dry. Too stubborn, as always, to ask for help, there was nothing to do but bask in the glow (read: cold sweats) of his misery until the pills eased his suffering just enough to make his way to his wheelchair.

“Humanity’s strongest,” he chastised himself. “What a fucking joke.”

In comparison, the seventh day was pure heaven; in a literal and metaphorical sense, the seas of clouds parted and lightened the pressure in the air.

Levi awoke the same as he had every morning for the last year—alone, in a quaint home in Marley (graciously bestowed upon him by the efforts of his previous comrades and begrudgingly accepted by him) on his back beneath a patchwork quilt. He much preferred sleeping on his side; however, his knee and spine refused him even that comfort. There was a routine here. He would first sit up, using his left hand to prop himself up in his bed (some mornings he would attempt his right, but the missing digits made it harder to retain stability), and experimentally wiggle his toes and shuffle his legs. He discovered early on that sudden movements after an extended period of inactivity would cause his joints and muscles to stiffen and end in searing pain on his injured side; without proper precautions and preparation, he’d be bedridden with pain. So, ever so slowly, he stretched his legs, rotated the joints, and gently curled into himself in an effort to prevent such misery. This was typically a five- to ten-minute ordeal, depending on his pain level that morning.

(You used to be so patient.)

The seventh day was a six, if he was forced to choose a number.

After spending roughly eight minutes preparing himself to leave bed, Levi, with a black metal cane in his left hand, made his way to the kitchen, where he ate a single apple. There was a routine here as well. Eating always felt like a chore, even before the state he found himself in; so rarely did he have time to indulge, and the food offered by the Scout Regiment was tolerable at best. An apple, or banana, or—on the rare occasion—a handful of strawberries were Levi's breakfast. He never spent much time enjoying them, rather opting to eat as quickly and efficiently as possible so that he could savor his morning tea, which was also a routine. He boiled eight ounces of water in a silver metal kettle on his stove to precisely one hundred and eighty-five degrees—never higher, never lower—and steeped one and a half teaspoons of his chosen loose leaf tea for five minutes. He always added the extra half teaspoon, seeing as he preferred his tea on the stronger side.

(You preferred black tea, slightly cooler than his, with half a sugar and a splash of milk.)

The routine was the only thing keeping him sane.

It still wasn’t enough.

He still thought about you every day. He still thought about your laugh and how he longed to hear it again. He thought about your smile and how rarely he saw it in his final days with you. He thought about the way your hair smelled when you were freshly showered. He thought about the last day he saw you—what he would have done differently, what he would have said had he known it would be the last time he ever spoke to you. Would it have changed things? If he hadn’t said such horrible things to you, would you have stayed?

He thought about the letter. The one he never had the strength to move off of his night table. Every letter and every ink smudge were etched into his brain.

(Levi,

I’m sorry to say this in a letter, but I won’t have the strength to do it any other way. I can’t risk changing my mind.

I love you. I have loved you since we were in the Scouts. Before any of this—before we knew about any of this shit, and we were just trying to kill the Titans and hope to God we weren’t going to be their next meal. You’re everything to me. You’re my best friend. You were the only person I trusted to walk into Hell with. It’s crazy to think about how things used to be. We were so different. I still remember the day you joined the Scouts. Hell, you didn’t even bother with a salute. I remember thinking Erwin was insane for bringing you in, there was no way that his gamble on you and your friends was going to pay off. I’ve never been more wrong. I’m still thankful for that. You have been my closest companion for nearly twenty years. I owe you my life more times than I can ever count. That’s why I have to leave.

You haven’t been the same since the war. For the last four years, I’ve watched you wither away into practically nothing. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve tried for so long to help you, and you fought me every step of the way. I can’t watch it anymore, Levi. I can’t keep watching you kill yourself. I don’t even recognize you anymore, you don’t even speak to me like yourself, it’s been like living with a ghost. I don’t know who you are, and I can’t keep looking for you anymore. I held on for so long because I loved you. I still do, even after all of this shit—I’m going to have to live with that for the rest of my life. I hope you understand that this is why I cannot stay here any longer. I can’t watch you die. Not again.

So, for now, this will have to be goodbye. When you find yourself again, please come back to me. I’ll be around. I miss you.)

And there, on the morning of the seventh day, Levi wept in the kitchen. He wept for so long that his tea went cold and his eyes burned through every tear he shed. The seventh day marked exactly a year since your departure, and Levi was no closer to himself than the day you left. You disappeared without a trace. He never once saw your face in public, never heard your voice, or caught a scent of your shampoo. Not even as much as your name.

He was so angry, so consumed with the past, and he felt as though he was not entirely human anymore.

And so Levi wept. And he mourned. And he grieved the life he could have had.

And then it was time for work.

MASTERLIST.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x female reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #levi ackerman x you #aot #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction

101 notes · View notes

holdmytesseract · 11 months

Note

Could you please do tom x reader where they are friends to lovers? Maybe the pretend boyfriend that turns real? Smutty and fluffy?

Hide & Seek

Tom Hiddleston x fem!Reader

Summary: Tom asks you to accompany him to Ben's birthday party. On the way there, you get stuck in traffic. A misunderstanding reveals long harboured feelings and things come how they had to come...

Warnings: mutual pining, thirst, fluff, jelousy? a misunderstanding, smuttish/suggestive stuff

Word Count: 3,1k

a/n: You guys wanted it and I am a woman of my words, so... Here it is! 🫡

I hope you like what I wrote for you @huntress-artemiss . 🥰 And I hope that everybody else enjoys it of course, too!

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @smolvenger @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @evelyn-kingsley @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @lokiforever @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @crimson25 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @coldnique

Masterlist °☆• Hiddles Masterlist

You heard the familiar 'ding' sound of your phone; announcing the arrival of a new message. With a hairpin pinned between your teeth and one hand in your hair, you quickly scooted over to your little make-up table, on which you had left your phone. Tapping on the screen, you immediately saw the message popping up.

'I'm here, darling. Are you ready? x'

You smiled, fixated your hair and quickly unlocked your phone; texting back.

'Almost. :) Gimme five mins, Tommy. x'

Not wasting any time, you applied some decent make-up, gave yourself a once over in the full-length mirror, grabbed the things you'd need and made your way towards the main door of your small, cosy house.

You had promised Tom - your best friend since you were teenagers, to accompany him to the birthday party of Ben. He didn't want to go alone - and you couldn't say no, of course. You never could say no when it came to Tom. Never. You'd anything for him. He was one of the most important people in your life. He was your sunshine on a rainy day. Your lighthouse in the raging storms. A safe haven to which you could always return.

A lot of people told you that this friendship wasn't going to last. After all, Tom was an actor. A famous actor. And you were just... you. But you proved them all wrong. The friendship lasted; survived every sharp turn, bump and crash on the way. A deep bond was formed; stronger than everything you ever experienced - and yet you were just best friends. Sure there had been opportunities to take this friendship to another level and turn it into something more, but neither of you took the opportunity.

You couldn't deny, though, that you had developed strong feelings for the handsome Brit over the years. Romantic feelings. How could somebody not fall for a man like Tom? He was a charming, kind, funny, talented, handsome gentleman with a heart of pure gold. You didn't dare to confess your feelings, because you didn't want to lose your best friend. Better have him as a best friend in your life than not at all, right?

So, the years flew by. Boyfriends came and boyfriends went. Just like with Tom. It was a heart wrenching pain whenever you met Tom's new girlfriend - and you hated it, but what were you supposed to do? All you wanted for him was happiness; but neither of you seemed to find happiness - at least when it came down to romantic relationships...

Another 'ding' of your mobile ripped you out of your thoughts. Shaking your head softly and trying to focus again; you opened the door and stepped out - only to almost stumble back inside.

A soft, cool breeze brushed past you; swirling your beige dress around your knees. The smell of rain hit your nose and some dark clouds hung in the sky; shielded the sun from shining down on you.

That wasn't what took your breath away, though. It was Tom, who stood not far away from you. Just a few meters; legs crossed, leaning casually against his black Jaguar with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his suit trousers.

Speaking of trousers... He was wearing a dark blue suit. Black dress shoes shone against the wet pavement; suit trousers hugging his long legs and hips snugly - held together by a black leather belt. The matching dark blue shirt wasn't any less tight; tailored perfectly for his lean yet strong upper body and forcing the small buttons to hold on for dear life. A tie and suit jacket in the exact same colour completed his look.

You swallowed a thick lump; had a hard time to control yourself and the rapidly beating heart within your chest. Luckily, Tom wasn't looking your way and didn't notice your distress. His gaze was directed to the street as he watched the cars drive by. The position showed off his ridiculously beautiful face; sharp jawline, high cheekbones - peppered with soft and fuzzy looking facial hair of his three-day beard. Tom's wild, blonde-brown curls had gotten so long; a hairsbreadth away from touching his broad shoulders. He looked like a prince, straight out of a fairytale book; combined with the perfect image of a photo shoot.

You bit your lip painfully hard; trying desperately to suppress the moan which threatened to slip past your lips.

It was insanely hot - and Tom didn't even notice the impact this had on you.

"Hey, Tommy," you finally greeted him; attracting his attention. Sure, you could've stared longer and admire the fine man he was, but you didn't want him to accidentally look and notice...

His head whipped around towards you; baby blues meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Hello, darling." A smile spread across his face, as he made his way over to you; giving you a hug. The hugs he gave his other friends didn't last quite as long as the hugs he gave you... You just didn't notice.

"Are you ready?" You nodded; smiling. "I was born ready. You should know that by now." You loved to tease him from time to time. Tom just chuckled; shaking his head. "I won't start now to recount the times you weren't ready. Let's go." You just giggled and followed your best friend to the car.

Being the gentleman the Brit was, he held the door open for you to sit inside his Jaguar. Once you were both seated, Tom started the engine and drove off towards the party.

Unfortunately, was the traffic on this fine Friday evening very bad; causing the both of you to get stuck. Like... Really stuck. Everything stood still. The little highway you were driving on was closed.

"Ugh, great... Now we'll be surely late to the party..." Tom gave you an apologetic look. "Apologies, Y/N/N... I should've taken the other route when I had the chance. Now it's too late... Can you text Ben?" He asked you, handing you his phone; gaze fixated on the cars in front of him. You shook your head, "No need to apologise, Tommy. You couldn't know. But yeah, I'm gonna text him." and unlocked Tom's phone as if it was your own. Not that you knew each other's password by heart... "Thank you, darling."

You tapped on WhatsApp, searched Ben's contact and entered the chat. Of course you tried hard to not read the last messages he received and sent to give your best friend some privacy, but when your eyes caught a glimpse of a text just above the text box you were writing your text in, you couldn't help but to look. You knew it was wrong, but before you were able to stop yourself, it was already too late and your gaze wandered...

Ben: So... You're gonna take her finally home then, right??

Tom: What, I- Ben stop that. I... I can't just do that. I don't think she'd want that... Me...

Ben: Friend... Are you kidding me? It's obvious she wants you.

Tom: You, uh, think so?

Ben: Know so. Shoot your shot, man, before it's too late...

You didn't have to read more. Swallowing hard, you stared at the messages for a moment. You knew exactly who Tom and Ben were obviously talking about... Chloe. A woman Tom had met on set a few months back. She was - well, is one of the costume designers and therefore saw Tom quite often. Someday, they started to talk during a break and well... According to Tom the sparks had been flying. He had told his best friend everything, of course - while you wished he hadn't. You tried to be happy for him - like you always did when he met a new woman, but... As much as you tried, your head never could win the battle against your heart. It was an undefeatable opponent. A invulnerable fortress.

You never met Chloe - and yet you despised her wholeheartedly. It wasn't fair, of course, but love had turned you into a monster.

"Y/N? Hey, Y/N/N."

You flinched and snapped out of your thoughts as Tom's soft velvet voice urged to your ears. "Is everything alright?" You blinked, nodded, "Yeah, sure. Sorry, I, uh, just drifted off." and sent the text. Giving him a fake smile, you exited the app and handed him his phone back. "Are you sure?" "Yep. Everything's good, Tommy."

You hated to lie to him, but you couldn't just tell him the truth now, could you?

'Hey, Tommy, I'm sorry but I spied on your texts and saw that one message, saying that you are going to obviously shag that bitch Chloe and now I'm kinda jealous, because it should be me instead!'

Nope, certainly not. But you also couldn't shake that thought of. It occupied you. A lot. Your brain thought about it non-stop; causing your heart to crack and shatter even more with every passing minute. You could not stand the thought of another woman in Tom's life. In his home. His bed. His heart.

You tried your best to put on a brave face, but your best friend wasn't blind. Neither stupid. He knew you better than you probably knew yourself...

At first the Brit didn't say anything. Given the fact that you clearly told and signalled him that you didn't wish to talk. But at some point, an undeniable, unpleasant tension started to built up between you both. Almost like an imaginary wall... It felt like every untold word, every unspoken feeling had pent up over the last weeks, months - years and were now about to culminate in the middle of an upcoming rain storm. Right here, right now; while being stuck in traffic.

Tom just couldn't take it any longer. He needed to know what had turned everything upside down all of a sudden. Why everything felt so wrong at this very moment.

"Y/N?" He asked you carefully once again. "I know you said everything is okay - and I feel that you clearly don't wish to speak to me, but-" "No, really, Tom. It's all good," you interrupted him once more; giving him another fake smile - and you could tell at the look of his face, that he had seen immediately through that fake smile. But before he was able to say something, you intervened; only digging the gaping hole in your heart deeper.

"Did you go on a date with Chloe?"

Tom frowned; was clearly confused of the sudden change of topic. "Y-Yes, but-" "Great. How did it go?" "Um, great, I-I guess, but why are you-" "Good. That's good. I'm happy for you Tom." You swallowed hard; feeling your heart scream in pain - but no matter how hard it hurt you, you just had to know what happened between them. You wanted to spare yourself the double gut punch. Might as well feel all the pain at once.

"But, Y/N... Why-" You chose not to leave him any space to question you and just get over with it. "Did you kiss her?" "W-What?" "Touch her?" "T-Touch her? Why would I-" "Sleep with her?" "I-" "Was she at least good in bed?" You kept on bombarding your best friend with questions. "Y/N-" "Was she, huh?" "Y/N, I-" "Did she made you cu-"

"Y/N!"

Tom suddenly exploded; screamed out your name and slamming his hands on the steering wheel of the Jag. He clearly had heard enough; couldn't listen to this any longer.

You went silent; didn't even dare to breathe for a second.

"I didn't sleep with her! I didn't touch her! Goddammit, I didn't even kiss her! Nothing happened between us! Nothing!" The Brit took a deep breath; trying to calm himself down again. You just stared at him; mouth closed shut.

"Yes, we met. Yes, it was great. But I wouldn't even call it a date. We talked and drank a glass of wine. Nothing more." You swallowed hard. "B-But, I-I thought you and Chloe were-" "A thing? No. We're not, Y/N." You blinked; were quite stunned at the sudden turnout of this situation - and once more was your mouth quicker to speak than your brain was able to think and so it came how it had to come...

"About who did you and Ben talk about then in your chat, if not Chloe?"

It slipped past your lips - and you immediately regretted it; afraid of Tom's reaction.

Tom's eyes widened to the size of plates; hands twitching to grip the steering wheel tight, while his cheeks turned beet red. The Brit had not thought about this conversation he had with his his friend - and now you knew.

"Shit, Tom, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to spy on your chats, I-I just saw it a-and was wondering about who-"

"You."

You blinked once more. "W-What?"

Tom turned to face you again; oceanic blue eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones.

Now or never, Tom thought.

"You, Y/N. We were talking about you."

You could've sworn that your heart skipped more than just one beat at his words. "M-Me?" You squeaked out; pointing at yourself. "Me?" "Yes. You. And the party today." Your eyes widened; jaw slacking in disbelief. "Y-You wanted to... Me?" Tom nodded; smiling nervously. "I always just wanted you, darling. No other woman on this earth is able to compare to you. My heart fell for you a long time ago. It belongs to you. Always has. Always will. I was just too afraid to tell-" Before he was able to finish his sentence, you had pulled him closer by the lapels of his stupidly sexy suit jacket and literally slammed your lips on his.

Tom was definitely shocked and overwhelmed at first, but he immediately relaxed; sighed in the kiss and pulled you as close as somehow possible with the car interior being quite a bit in the way.

All suppressed feelings and emotions finally broke free and melted into that very kiss. It felt like getting hit by an 18-wheeler truck and floating through heaven at the same time. It was a beautiful, chaotic mess, which the both of you enjoyed every second of - and tempted you to indulge into kiss after kiss after kiss.

You felt how your heartbeat quickened at the feeling of love and desire for the man beside you, as they were finally able to flood your body; veins pulsating with a dangerous mixture of endorphins and oxytocin - and Tom's musky smell, combined with the fruity blood orange and leather touch of his perfume didn't help at all. It made everything worse, without a doubt. Resisting Tom had been always difficult - but now that the chains were broken, it was impossible. And why should you stop yourself? There was no holding back anymore. The cards laid on the table.

You pushed Tom back into the driver seat; catching him by surprise. Your hand started to play with his tie; quickly undoing it. Tom's eyes watched your fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt; steadily wandering lower as he was swallowing hard. "Darling, w-what... what are you- Woah!" Tom had clearly anticipated that your hand would land at a place where he had often imagined it to be late at night, when he was all alone at home. But it didn't. You gave his belt a soft tug, but then moved your hand over his thigh and down to where the lever was, which allowed his seat to slide back; bringing even more space between him and the steering wheel.

Another thing the Brit hadn't seen coming - just like the next move you made.

Within the blink of an eye, you had slipped out of your high heels and elegantly swung yourself over; sitting on your former best friend's lap. It caused your dress to ride up your thighs - and Tom's eyes to widen. He literally froze in place; realising in which position you just brought yourself and him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, tugging at his suit jacket; trying to get him to shrug it off - what he did. "Y/N, w-what are you doing?" Tom knew of course very well what you were doing, but he needed to hear it. "What does it look like? I'm, uh, saving the car and riding you instead."

Tom's eyes almost popped out of his head at your bold words. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that it stirred something deep inside him. And his dress pants.

"Darling, I-I don't know if we should do this here, I-" You raised a playful eyebrow at him.

"Oh, Tommy please... Don't be so shy now. You can't tell me that you never imagined doing this..." You leaned in closer; whispering into his ear: "Me. On top of you." The Brit couldn't help the moan which slipped past his lips. "I-I did, I-," he panted out; feeling one of your hands opening his belt; metal clinking. "See? Besides, the windows are tinted. Nobody's going to see this. Plus, we are stuck anyway, so... What are you waiting for?" You asked in a hushed voice; tracing your lips down his pulse point. "Touch me."

Another breathy moan escaped Tom's lips; big hands flying up to grab your bare thighs and working on slipping your dress even higher up your hips. His warm, slightly sweaty palms sent a shiver down your spine; nerve ends sizzling with desire.

"I-I've wanted this for so long, now, darling." Tom whispered; pressing his forehead against yours. "And now that I can finally have it - you... It's so surreal and- Oh fuck..." Tom's hands started to tremble; eyebrows slanting and mouth forming into a perfect 'o' as you lowered yourself on him. Only your lips messily entangling themselves with his seemed to bring him out of his haze.

"I love you, Tommy. I love you. I always have," you whimpered; body jolting with love and pleasure. His soft beard scratched the skin of your cheek, as he buried his head in the crook of your neck; lips marking you as his.

"I love you, too, darling. With all my heart. I'm yours." He lifted his head once more; glassy blue eyes gazing deeply into your soul. "Now let me love you. Let me make love to you." You smiled deliriously and raked your fingers through his long, blonde-brown curls. "I beg you to, Tommy."

And when he started to move, the world around you faded. All you could think and feel was Tom.

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston au #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader smut #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fic

308 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 4 months

Note

hi hanna! could i please request a jim street fic/blurb, using the prompt, caressing the other's cheek softly, hoping to wake them up that way? please and thank you!!🤍

Hi Rachel!! Absolutely! I love this prompt with Street because he deserves all of the loving affection he can get!! It's pretty short, but I hope you enjoy!🫶🏼

warnings: just fluff! | 1.1k+ words

Wake Up, I Miss You

Being a SWAT officer is hard on the sleep schedule. Not just for the officers, but for the people closest to them. When you moved in with Jim Street, he warned you about his unusual and inconsistent schedule. Some nights, he’d be home before the sunset, others he would crawl in bed beside you a few hours before the sun rose, and on the bad nights, he wouldn’t be home at all. You love him, though, so you welcome him home, into your arms, no matter what time it is.

You look at the clock by the bed. The red letters blink as the time changes to 1:37 a.m. Jim called you around lunch, “just to hear your voice,” so you knew it was a hard day. He deserves love regardless, but after that call, it was easy to decide to stay up and wait for him to get home.

The click of the front door closing and locking is barely audible, and you sit up straighter in bed to greet Jim. He walks silently through the house, his movements only registering when something else makes noise. The faucet in the kitchen runs for a moment, his keys jingle quickly as he hangs them on the hook by the door, and his backpack thuds softly when it hits the floor. You wait patiently for the last sound, the creak of the floor outside the bedroom. Jim wanted to fix it when you moved in, but you argued that it told you where people were in the house, and he left it alone after that.

“You’re still awake,” Jim whispers as he walks in.

“I wanted to see you,” you answer softly.

His eyes soften as he walks to your side of the bed. He brushes his fingers over your cheek before he bends down to kiss your forehead.

“I’ll be back,” he promises.

You watch him walk to the dresser and gather clothes before he disappears into the bathroom. He returns quickly and joins you under the blankets on your shared bed. You extend an arm toward him and welcome him into your arms again. Jim sighs as he rests his head over your heart, soothed by the steady thumping of your heart. His arms tighten around you briefly as he relaxes.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“I am now,” he replies. “I promise. Just needed to get home to you.”

You nod. After so long with him, you know better than to press. Instead, you brush your fingers along his back as you turn to press your chest to his. He falls asleep quickly, and you join soon after. Moments like this are precious, and you will always choose them over sleep.

Mornings are harder than nights, you think. Falling asleep alone is one thing, but waking up alone after feeling someone join you in the dead of night can hurt. The first few weeks were the worst, but you’ve grown to expect it.

That’s what makes this morning so surprising. When you wake after Jim’s late night and need for comfort, he’s still asleep beside you. His arm is spread over your waist, his hair ruffled by deep sleep, and his face is turned toward yours. You can’t remember the last time Jim had a day off and was still beside you when you awoke.

As you turn under his arm, you smile happily. He makes you happy, you love him, and you should let him sleep. Yet you raise your hand toward his cheek to rouse him. The sun is bright in the sky as it nears 9 a.m., and Jim would never forgive you for leaving him alone in bed (until you kissed him and whispered an apology, at least).

You lay your hand over Jim’s cheek and gently brush your finger under his eye. His eyelashes move as his eyes flutter quickly. He doesn’t wake up, though, so you brush your fingers down to his jaw. You trace his jawline with your fingertips before moving them along his cheekbones and over his nose. You tell Jim constantly that he’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen, and while he playfully agrees, you’re not sure he will ever understand just how beautiful he is to you. Right now, he’s never looked so peaceful and perfect.

Jim stirs, moving closer to you in his sleep. Your smile widens and you curl your fingers before returning to your ministrations. You move the back of your fingers along Jim’s cheek, careful not to scrape him with your nails. As you fold your other arm to lean up and better see him, his arm moves tighter around your waist. He’s waking up, you think, as you continue brushing over his cheek and jaw.

“G’mornin’,” he mumbles, his voice deepened with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply softly.

You open your hand to lay flat against his cheek again, and your fingers hold his jaw as if he’ll break. Jim turns against your hand and presses his face into your hold before he opens his eyes. The sleepy smile that follows makes you turn away from him, but not for long.

“How are you feeling, sleepyhead?” you ask.

“Better now. Whoever invented alarm clocks didn’t have someone like you,” he murmurs.

“Luca doesn’t wake you up like that when you spend the night at HQ?”

Jim shakes his head and chuckles, and you move your hand down to rest against his jaw and the side of his neck. He may have enjoyed the wake-up call, but you enjoy simply waking up beside him. SWAT is important to Street, and you’d never ask him to leave that to be with you more. It’s part of him, so you love it, too.

“Why are you still here?” you inquire.

“We’re off today. I didn’t tell you?”

You shake your head, and Jim tilts his head to kiss your palm.

“Yesterday was rough, so Hicks decided we could use the break. We’re on call for the Marshals tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Bad days are still hard but they’re easier now... Knowing that I’m coming home to you makes a difference.”

“I love you.”

Jim kisses your hand again before he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He tugs you quickly, and your hand slips to his shoulder as your chest hits his.

“Hi,” he teases in the proximity. “If you like touching my face so much, maybe you should try it with your lips.”

You shake your head but tilt your chin to kiss his cheek anyway.

“I love you, too,” Jim whispers as he raises his hand to brush your hair from your face. His fingers linger by your temple before he spreads his hand over your cheek to pull you in.

#jim street x fem!reader #jim street x reader #jim street fluff #jim street #swat cbs #requests #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#mutuals 🤍

97 notes · View notes

nekohime19 · 5 months

Text

Mini Mac #2 : How to lure the feral lil guy living in your walls a guide by Sun Wukong

Damn, I need to study for my exams but mini Mac is in my head, 😔

Sun Wukong has always been quite the odd ball. He was the type of person to follow his own rules, and sometimes expected people to understand those rules without truly revealing them in the first place. Azure Lion has often been troubled by the lil monkey nature. He was a merry lad one day, laughing at anything coming his way without truly minding them, and he was short-tempered another, fighting anyone daring enough to call him small (everyone in the brotherhood learned at their own risks what would happen if they ever mentioned their merry monkey size). It wasn't weird for the golden monkey to be doing something incomprehensible for the others, he spent the last week fighting with every inch of his life against a common pest for heaven sake, but he seemed particularly weird tonight.

Now, Sun Wukong was a lot of things but he was never quiet. No matter in which mood the brotherhood finds their littlest brother, he would always be loud about it. If he was in a foul mood he would complain about it until everyone's ears started bleeding (last week had been particularly hellish). If he was feeling joyous, he would shout praise and raise his glass of wine (the ones sitting around him knew to scout away everytime he was rowdy, drops of wine always flew beside him). He was an expressive lad, unable to keep his feelings for himself, perhaps because his emotions were too big for him alone.

As such it was quite surprising to see him so meek tonight. He was quietly staring at the night sky, absently swaying his glass of wine, head in his left hand, sighing now and then. Azure Lion shared a glance with Yellow Tusk, the elephant looked lost as well despite usually being the one able to discern their rowdy monkey’s feelings. Bull King seemed quite shocked himself, and perhaps a bit disappointed, Azure knew their biggest brother, contrary to many others, enjoyed when Sun Wukong was in a fighting spirit. Peng looked ready to spill what was in everyone's mind, as they usually did when no one dared to confront the Monkey King. Azure decided to intervene before they could, this seemed to be a delicate matter, not something someone as direct (for lack of a better word) as Peng could handle.

“Brother, is everything alright? Did you defeat the pest hiding in your home?” Asked Azure, hoping the mention of the pest would ignite the sage fighting spirit. However, contrary to what he thought, Sun Wukong slumped in defeat, letting his head fall against the table. The brotherhood shared a common worried glance when they heard Sun Wukong whine. It wasn't unusual for the sage to whine, but he never whined that way, so small and defeated. Azure worried for a second that the King may cry, something unheard and unseen till now.

“He's gone!” Whined the sage, almost as if he was some grieving maiden talking about her long lost husband.

“The pest?” Tried to clarify Azure, Bull King leaned over Peng and mumbled :

“Isn't this a good thing?”

“Don't ask me. I don't know what this madman is talking about half of the time.” Quietly scoffed the bird.

“You don't understand! It's been two days and I haven't caught a sign of him!” Wailed the golden monkey, he narrowed his gaze at his glass, as if it personally offended him for simply existing, and downed it.

“So you chased away the pest, and now you're sad about it?” Asked Azure with a raised eyebrow, this was getting weirder than usual, even for Sun Wukong.

“I don't know what to do to make him come back…” Mumbled the sage, cheeks flushed by the wine.

“Well…usually they like food. You said they stole some of your peaches, maybe try to lure them with that.” Proposed Yellow Task, trying to soothe the Monkey rather than understand the ways of his mind.

“That's right!” Laughed the golden monkey, he rose, so suddenly that his knee hit the table and spilled some of the wine. “Why didn't I think of food!!” Sun Wukong smiled at them and ran away with a skip in his step, almost tripping on some roots along the way.

“Well, at least we helped him.” Sighed Azure as he downed his own glass.

“One day he hates the pest, another he wants it back. Tomorrow he's gonna tell us he fell in love with it or something.” Snorted Peng with crossed arms, they all laughed at the absurdity of their comment, because surely Sun Wukong wasn't this insane.

Was he ?

***

Sun Wukong had never been the type to dwell on something, he usually forgot what bothered him after a few days. Yet he couldn't forget the face of the lil macaque even if he wanted to. It's been two days since he used the magical device his brothers gave him, two days since he discovered that a lil monkey lived in the walls of his mansion, two days since he was haunted by the face of the lil guy.

Sun Wukong searched everywhere in his mansion, he discovered a fancy new room almost each hour, but no trace of the gorgeous lil guy. He almost gave up when he noticed no peaches were stolen since the day he discovered the macaque's existence. Maybe the lil guy was afraid of him? He tried to appear less threatening and cooed at the holes in his walls with what he hoped was a reassuring voice (a few of his lil suns watched him with tilted heads and tried to imitate him but he shooed them away, not wanting to overwhelm the lil guy in his walls) but the macaque didn't even show the tip of his snout.

Yellow Tusk advice revived his vigor, an offering was a sign of good-will wasn't it ? Maybe he should let the lil guy take a step in his direction instead of ransacking his own house in the hope of getting at least one sight of him. The sage took one of his freshest peaches and cut it into tiny pieces with the tip of his claws, he then put the pieces in a large leaf and laid it in the middle of the living room. Sun Wukong hid behind his couch (or at least the wooden bench veiled by pillows he called a couch) and peeked over it, towards the leaf.

He stayed there for a good while, perfectly still, except for his wagging tail. This time he didn’t fall asleep, not wanting to miss anything. Something finally moved at dawn, a shadow slipping in the dark, almost unnoticeable in the house obscurity. Sun Wukong watched, entranced, as the lil guy's head got out of the leaf’s shadow. He narrowed his eyes at the pieces, sniffing the air suspiciously. The sage silenced the coos tickling his lips and looked quietly. The macaque left the shadow, the dawn's luster gliding on his fur. He carefully walked towards the leaf and leaned towards the peach pieces, he took one in his lil hands (the pieces the size of his palm) and brought it to his snout. He bit it after assuring everything was alright and sat before the leaf, munching on his piece with a swaying tail.

Sun Wukong thought this was the most adorable thing he ever saw, he accidently let a quiet purr stumble out of his lips. The macaque straightened, ears erect, the piece clutched in his arms, as if he was afraid someone would take it away.

“It's alright!” Shouted the King, he jumped on his feet and tried to appear as non-threatening as possible. “I just want to be friends.”

The lil macaque stopped hissing for a few seconds, his eyes went towards the peach pieces then towards the sage in a silent question.

“Yeah! It's for you!” Beamed the King, overjoyed he was making some progress with his roommate. Sun Wukong tried to take a step closer but the lil macaque immediately hissed, crouching on all-four. Panicking, the sage took a step back and the lil guy calmed down. “Okay, boundaries, got it.”

Sun Wukong silently watched as the lil guy ate some peach pieces, and stuffed others in his makeshift sling. He couldn't help but wonder how the other voice would sound, what his name was, if he even had one. Unable to keep his thoughts for himself, Sun Wukong opened his mouth and began to ramble.

“My name's Sun Wukong by the way. But I'm sure you already know it, I'm the Monkey King! You have a name?”

The macaque turned towards him and eyed him up and down, as if accessing whether he posed any threats or not.

“Macaque.” was the only thing the lil guy deigned to say, however it was enough for the sage to beam with unadulterated joy. His voice was nice, a bit squeaky, perhaps because of the size difference, but nice nevertheless.

“Macaque, that's your name?” Excitedly asked the King, voice rising with his excitement.

“You're loud.” Groaned Macaque, his lil ears folded on themselves.

“O-oh right, sorry.” Sheepishly apologized the King, one hand rubbing his neck. Macaque eyed him for a bit before muttering about “weird giant” and dipping in a flurry of shadows, disappearing from the room. “I guess I'll see you later.” Mumbled the sage in slight disappointment.

At least he had a name now! He told himself as he enjoyed how the name sounded on his lips.

Previous / Next

#Shadowpeach #Mini Mac Au #Simp Sun Wukong #Wukong being dramatic like he's in a living k-drama #Wukong is a short king and Mac is an even shorter king #Food is the way to a lil guy heart #The brotherhood being confused but supportive #LMK

73 notes · View notes

gaylotusthatexists · 4 months

Note

Scarian and 32? :3

(very silly concept that turned out very sweet here <3 prompt is 'to wake up', hope u enjoy :D)

ao3 | send a number and a ship for a kiss <3

Morning light glared through the window, the little room quickly heating up as the sun rose over the desert. A voice rang out from down below, someone shouting at the base of their tower, and for a good few moments Grian did his damn hardest to ignore it - a peaceful morning was so rare nowadays, as tensions rose all across the land, and it would’ve been so nice to stay right there, besides the one he loved, safe and secure. But the shouting only increased, growing more and more annoying, and eventually he groaned, forcing himself to sit up in bed.

Whatever. The night had been lovely, at least. Held in Scar’s arms, up against his chest, a chilly night breeze blowing in through the window and cooling them down after such a hard day of work under the beating sun. And, for as long as the two remained here, however long that may be, he had hope that every night would be just like that. For however long they had left, he had Scar, and they had their little room at the top of the tower at the top of the mountain, overlooking their desert. A safe place, away from all the fighting and anger and betrayals. A place where they could just be.

Sighing, Grian carefully pulled away from the arms still wrapped firmly around his waist, his heart aching as those same arms grasped at the air, attempting to pull him back. He needed to get up, and so did Scar. Though by the look on his face, ever so peaceful, that wouldn’t be happening without Grian’s help.

He stood up from the bed and made his way over to the window. Leaning against the sill, he looked out across their desert. Jimmy and Scott were down below, waiting by their door, and the sun was a lot higher in the sky than Grian had expected - they… must’ve slept in, huh? Probably needed it. Definitely wanted it.

Still wanted it, if he was being perfectly honest. But nothing could last forever, and he had a war to fight and a long day ahead of him, and there’d always be the next night, and the one after that, for however many nights they had left.

Grian turned back to the bed, sighing and shaking his head as he saw Scar hadn’t moved a single inch. “Scar,” he called, stepping towards the bed and stopping by its side. “Scar, time to get up.”

Still no movement. Not even a ‘five more minutes’.

Grian rolled his eyes, sitting down on the side of the bed and gently shaking Scar’s shoulder. “Scar. C’mon, man. We got stuff to do.”

This, at least, did prompt the man to shift, rolling over to instead lay flat on his back. With this movement, the thin blanket draped over the top of him, used to keep the two of them warm during the colder desert nights, flung off the side of the bed, leaving Scar bare-chested. (Because of course he refused to wear a shirt at night as well, not even to keep himself warm. At least in the daytime, he had the excuse of keeping cool.) Grian tried his best not to let himself get distracted by the toned muscle, sweat beginning to glisten across tanned skin as heat began to increase, beautiful pattern of scars branching out across his bodies like fractals, each one intimately familiar.

It was really hard not to. But Scar still wasn’t awake.

“Scar,” Grian said again, pushing in a little annoyance to his tone. “We have stuff to do, c’mon. Jimmy and Scott are already outside waiting - we don’t wanna leave them out there alone for too long, do we?”

No response. Not even a shift in expression or a twitch of a finger.

He had to be putting it on. There was no way he was this deep of a sleeper - sure, he didn’t wake up to the smallest of sounds like Grian did, usually managing to make it the full night without so much of a peep even in the middle of a goddamn death game, but it was never this difficult to get him up.

Grian’s suspicions were immediately confirmed when Scar puckered his lips.

He knew this game. And, as much as he sort of wanted to play along (void knows under any other circumstances he would’ve), they did not have time. They had a goddamn war to win.

“Scar,” Grian said, again, “now really isn’t the time to be playing princess.”

He did it all the time back home. Whether it was to be dramatic, or to signal he wanted attention, or just for fun , Grian wasn’t sure, but void was it annoying at times. Endearing, sure, but annoying. (And boy, if that didn’t sum up Scar to a tee, he didn’t know what did.)

He wasn’t going to back down, staying perfectly still, waiting for Grian.

Because of course he fucking was.

Grian let out a heavy, over-dramatic sigh. “Alright. Fine.” He leant down, placing the tiniest of kisses to Scar’s lips - barely even a peck, but a kiss nonetheless. “There you go. Now would you please wake up?”

Scar’s brows furrowed, a displeased expression crossing his face for half a second, before morphing right back into that peaceful state, puckered lips remaining. Grian shut his eyes, taking in a sharp breath and slowly exhaling. Of course he wanted more. Of course he did.

He leant down again, placing another kiss - slightly longer this time, lingering for a second or so, but not attempting to part his lips as he usually would. “That’s all you’re getting.”

Again, Scar’s eyes remained closed, and he stayed perfectly still.

“Scar-”

“But the curse, Grian,” he whispered, barely even audible, with that morning grogginess to his voice that Grian always adored, sending shivers down his spine. “The curse.”

Grian tried his best to stay annoyed. Tried to stop his lips from turning upwards into a smile, fondness wrinkling around his eyes. “There’s no curse, Scar.”

“The curse.”

He still wasn’t budging. If it was anyone else, Grian might’ve physically dragged him out of the bed, gave him no other choice but to get the fuck up.

But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Scar.

“Okay, fine. I’ll play along,” Grian decided, though tried his damn hardest to sound unhappy about it. A smug look quickly grew across Scar’s face, and- well, how else was Grian supposed to wipe it away but with a big ol’ kiss? He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t want to.

He leaned down again to capture Scar’s lips, this time gently working them open, quickly settling into a steady rhythm as he moved his lips against Scar’s. This time, Scar finally reacted, lifting his head up slightly to push further into the kiss, a pleased hum rumbling around the back of his throat, melting underneath Grian’s touch. Grian found himself shifting further onto the bed, bringing up on knee to balance himself above Scar, a hand reaching around the back of Scar’s neck in an attempt to pull him upwards, closer, closer.

Scar had won. Just as he always did. And, as much as he’d complain to the air about it, Grian wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Before he could convince himself to pull away, to carry on trying to get Scar up, (void knows that was the last thing he wanted to do, now that they were doing this), he felt a hand worm its way around his waist, slipping just beneath his shirt to grasp onto his skin. That was more than enough to keep him in place, only pulling back for a split second to force enough air into his lungs to then go right back in, continuing to kiss Scar with more passion than ever before.

Because void had he missed this. Sure, they’d spent pretty much this entire game by each other’s sides, snuck in plenty of kisses in those quiet moments beneath pale moonlight, but it was so hard to allow themselves to focus their entire attention on one another, between all the constant threats looming in the background. It had been so, so long since they’d allowed the world around them to fade away, since Grian allowed himself to think of nothing but Scar.

Scar, who was so wonderful in every possible way, melting so easily beneath his touch. Scar, who always held the brightest smile, ever so pretty with a permanent sparkle in his eyes. Scar, who he truly, truly loved, more than anything in the world. Scar, Scar, Scar.

A second hand looped around his back, pressing firmly against his spine, and Grian leaned into it, allowing an arm to pull him up even further onto the bed, as the hand on his waist slowly moved around to join the other on his back.

Next thing he knew, he’d been flipped over to the other side of the bed, lying flat on his back with Scar above him, staring down at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes and the smuggest of smirks spread wide across his face. A hand landed either side of his face, with Scar’s knees moving to lean either side of Grian’s body, trapping him in that position. Grian stared back up at him, once again trying his damn hardest to look annoyed, but nothing could stop the small giggle that escaped from his lips. “Scar.”

“What?” Scar said, leaning down to plant a kiss to Grian’s forehead, then to each of his cheeks, then to his jawline, and finally his neck. Grian gasped, skin tingling with pleasure, every touch like sparks of electricity, lifting him up to lean into his lover.

“Scar,” he whined, eyes flitting shut, though made no attempt to actually stop the man. Enjoying the attention perhaps a little too much.

Scar hummed, leaning back for a second. “Don’t tell me this isn’t what you wanted.” Before Grian could even open his mouth to respond, Scar leant back down again, taking his lips for a long, soft kiss.

“What I wanted-” Grian said, in the gaps between kisses, where Scar pulled back for air. “-was for you-” Breathe. “-to wake up.”

The next time Scar pulled away, he was panting for breath, and eventually collapsed down besides Grian, though kept his arms wrapped tightly around him, refusing to give him even the slightest chance of escape. (Not that Grian really wanted to, more than happy to melt into his lover's hold.) He pressed another kiss to Grian’s forehead, before tucking Grian’s head beneath his chin, bringing one hand up to gently card through his hair.

“And you succeeded,” Scar said. “The curse is broken. You’ve valiantly completed your grand quest to rescue me from the evil grasps of slumber.”

Grian couldn’t hold back his laughter, burying his head into Scar’s chest. “Right. The curse.”

“I’m being serious!” Scar tutted. “If you hadn’t come along to save me, I could’ve been trapped here sleeping for thousands of years, you know. Thousands!”

“Right. Of course. So now, what I need to do is get you out of this tower and carry you away to freedom, yeah?”

“No, no, of course not,” Scar said, shaking his head. He leant back a little to look Grian in the eyes, deadly serious. “What you need to do now is stay here with me and enjoy yourself for a little bit. Think of it as a reward.”

Grian raised an eyebrow. “A reward?”

“Yeah, yeah. As a prince, surely you’d want your princess to give you a little love as a thank you. For breaking her curse.”

Grian rolled his eyes. “As a prince, I think I’d want to lead the princess to safety before the dragon comes to eat both of us.”

Scar frowned. “Who said anything about dragons?”

“We’re in a tower. Obviously there’s gonna be a dragon.”

“Who said anything about towers?”

“We literally live in a tower, Scar. Where else would we be?”

Scar hummed. “Alright. Fair point,” he conceded. “But surely as a prince, you would’ve already killed the dragon.”

“Never said I was a fighter. Maybe I snuck in, you don’t know that.”

“I’ve seen you fight, Grian. You could absolutely take down a dragon.”

“I’m not Grian, though, am I? I’m a prince,” Grian said. “I don’t think princes generally go out and fight dragons. I’d imagine they’re more inclined to sit around in a palace and yell at servants to fetch grapes for them.”

“Well, if this prince is out to rescue a princess, I’d imagine he’d be a little more proactive than your average prince-”

“He’s just doing it to get the girl. Doesn’t mean he has any fighting experience.”

“Stop trying to ruin my fantasy.”

Grian giggled, bowing his head then burying it in Scar’s chest, as he tugged himself a little closer to his lover. “Alright, alright. Whatever. This prince is very grateful for his reward, and wants the princess to know that he already loves her so very much.”

Though he could no longer see Scar’s face, he could hear the smile in his voice. “That’s what I like to hear.” Another kiss to the forehead, a finger gently stroking up and down his back. “Love you too, G.”

Grian allowed his eyes to slip back shut, letting out a long, contented sigh. He brought a hand up to wrap around Scar’s back, tracing the familiar line of scars up and down with his finger, feeling his lover shiver beneath his touch, warm breath making its way down his neck. Scar’s chest moved up and down in a steady rhythm, steady breathing, alive and safe with Grian here besides him. If he could, Grian would’ve wanted to stay there forever, entangled in his lover’s arms, alive and safe and happy. No terrifying world beyond the window, nothing to ever worry about. Just him and Scar. Just them.

But there was a terrifying world beyond that window, and they didn’t have forever. Grian sighed, a frown pulling at his face. “We really should get up though, y’know,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. Despite his words, he still made no move to follow through.

“Says who?”

Grian huffed. “Says everyone? Jimmy and Scott were waiting outside for us-”

“Fuck Jimmy and Scott. They can’t tell us what to do.”

“Says me, then,” Grian said. “We have stuff to do.”

“We sure do,” Scar said. “Stuff like cuddling, and kissing, and making sure you know how much I love and appreciate and adore you.”

Grian felt his cheeks heat up - and, again, whilst he couldn’t see, he could hear Scar smirk at the way Grian squirmed under the praise, entirely at his lover's mercy. (Really, there was nowhere else he’d want to be.)

For a moment, Grian couldn’t respond, having to take a second to recompose himself, but eventually he said, “I- I appreciate that, really, and I love you lots and lots as well - but what I mean is stuff like killing, Scar. You’re red, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Not today, I’m not,” Scar muttered. “We can go kill Ren tomorrow. All this red-business is cutting into my Grian time. You can’t just take away a man’s Grian time.”

“What, and your ‘Grian time’ is more important than winning a death game?”

“My Grian time is the most important thing, I’ll have you know,” Scar said, matter-of-factly. “And it’s been seriously lacking recently, between all the killing and trapping and scamming. Just…” He trailed off, then sighed. “I miss it, y’know? I miss home.”

Again, Grian was silent for a while, but… for a far different reason, this time. “...yeah. I know. I miss it too.”

He did miss it. More than anything. He missed being able to wake up and not have to worry about what the day would bring. Whether or not they’d make a new enemy, whether or not an existing one would attack, whether or not they’d survive to see the stars again. He missed mornings like this, lazing about with Scar right by his side, knowing he was exactly where he belonged.

“Hey,” Scar said, his voice soft. “Look at me.”

Grian obeyed, just like he always did. Just like he always would.

He stared at Scar with wide eyes for a long few moments, as if nothing else could ever compare to their beauty, staring into the universe itself. (Grian’s universe, at the very least.) And Scar stared back, with so much fondness, so much adoration sparkling in his eyes. He shifted one arm to tuck a finger beneath Grian’s chin, before shifting again to cup his jaw, stroking his thumb over Grian’s cheek. Grian leaned into his hand with a contented sigh, a smile soon growing across his face.

“We’re gonna get through this,” Scar reassured him, with absolute certainty. “I- I know you worry, I get it. I do. But- But it’ll be okay. We’ll get through this. Me and you.”

“…yeah.” Perhaps those words were all he needed. “Me and you.”

Scar nodded. “Me and you.” He leant in close again, pulling Grian into another kiss. Long, tender, and so, so gentle, Scar’s lips ever so soft against his. Grian’s heart hammered in his chest, so close to bursting out. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Eventually, though, when Scar pulled back again, another frown settled into Grian’s face. “…and… and if we don’t?” he wondered, his voice small.

Scar hummed, taking a few moments to come up with a response. “Well…” He sighed, tugging Grian closer still. “Well, then we’d best make the most of the time we have left, ay?”

He was right. As much as Grian would try to deny it, Scar was always right.

“So… can we please just… stay like this, for today?” Scar asked, and with the way he wrapped his arms even tighter around Grian, a leg moving upwards to wrap around the smaller man’s body as well, Grian figured he already knew the answer. “Or even just for an hour or two. The world can wait for us.”

Grian smiled, burying his head back into Scar’s chest, clinging onto his lover as though his very life depended on it. (In some ways, it sort of did.) “Alright, fine,” he said, failing to sound annoyed, far too much fondness leaking into his tone. “You win. You can have your Grian time, for a little bit.”

“Good.” Scar planted yet another kiss to Grian’s forward, then settled into his usual position, chin atop Grian’s head, hand carding through his hair. “I love you.”

Grian closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax. “Love you too.”

The world could wait.

#scarian #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #my writing #my fanfic

50 notes · View notes