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cleo-fox · 2 months

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As the Clock Strikes Midnight - Part VII

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: In which your patience is finally rewarded. Chapter Warnings: Sex, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink. Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Getting through the next day is a challenge, to say the very least.

Your day typically includes a fair number of mindless tasks–peeling pounds of potatoes, kneading bread dough, scrubbing pots and pans, and so on. Normally, you don’t mind it; normally, it’s an opportunity for your mind to wander, a way to distract yourself from the neverending drudgery.

Today is a different story. Today, the only destination for your wandering mind is what awaits you at the end of the day. And what awaits you at the end of the day, well…those sorts of thoughts tend to leave you flustered and checking the time.

The others, thankfully, are too preoccupied with their own tasks to pay you much mind, which feels like a small blessing—you couldn’t even begin to come up with a believable excuse for your inattention.

You’ve taken care to maintain a sort of playful distance from Loki as a matter of protection—the more detached you appear, the less likely you are to be hurt when this ends. Not that you’re having any feelings you need to protect yourself from, of course—this is just a precaution. The practical part of you knows that you should probably wait a little after dark before making your way to his chambers. Unfortunately, the part of you that has been anticipating this all day (to say nothing of the last three) is not particularly inclined to listen to practical advice; consequently it is barely dark when you arrive at his chamber doors.

He notices. Of course.

“You’re awfully early,” he says as he lets you in, not bothering to hide his smirk.

“Yesterday you scolded me for being late. Today I am too early,” you say, arching an eyebrow at him. “Perhaps the problem is that you are too particular, your highness.”

“An artful deflection,” he says, taking your hand and leading you to the bedroom. “There’s no shame in admitting you couldn’t wait for me to ravish you.”

A huff of a laugh escapes your lips and you give him a look. “That’s awfully bold of you.”

You say this largely to bait him and he gives you a catlike smile as you come to a stop in the bedroom. He looks you up and down and wets his lips. “I suspect I’ll find you slick and aching under your skirts.”

He’s right, though you don’t intend to admit it. You simply raise your eyebrow and he smiles like he knows exactly what you’re hiding. Bastard.

“And similarly—” his voice drops as he guides your hand to the front of his trousers, “I’ve been contending with this for much of the day.”

His cock is hard and straining against the material of his trousers, which only fans the ache between your thighs.

“Oh.” You wish you had something clever to say, but lust has made your brain pleasantly foggy. You run your hand along the length of him and he watches you with hooded eyes, the slight intake of breath his only tell. You move to undo his trousers and his fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” he says. “I want to take my time with you.”

As much as you want him to finally, finally take you, the thought of him taking his time is also wildly appealing. His eyes remain hooded as he trails his fingertips down the curve of your jaw, across your lips, along the column of your throat and down to your collarbones. His touch is light and reverent, like he wants to know every part of you and commit it to memory. It’s entirely chaste, but still somehow erotic and you can’t hide the way that you tremble in the wake of his gentle caress.

His fingertips trail down your sternum, skimming along your ribcage, then down the sides of your waist to your hips. He pauses for a moment before reversing his course. He does this several times before your resolve begins to waver.

“Loki.” Your voice is a strained whisper.

He brushes his lips against your forehead, his fingertips still following that light and teasing path. You tilt your head up in the hope that he’ll kiss you; instead, his lips ghost against yours, pulling away before you can draw him deeper.

His light touches and barely there kisses are inspiring a specific sort of madness in you, one that feels particularly unbearable after three days of waiting. After another brief pass of your lips, it’s enough to override your remaining shred of pride and self-control.

“Kiss me,” you breathe.

The flash of a wicked smile makes you wonder if this was merely another ploy to make you admit to wanting him, but the thought is fleeting and dissipates completely when he finally brings his lips to yours.

This is different from the other times he’s kissed you—it’s deeper, more searching, hungry. You wind your arms around his neck, twining your fingers in his hair and pressing yourself against him. His hands slide along your hips to the buttons at the back of your dress, nimbly slipping them free, trailing his fingertips down your spine as he goes. You release your hold on his hair to help him pull your dress off, leaving it to pool on the floor at your feet. Your hands slide to his tunic, tugging insistently at the fabric until he obliges you and breaks away long enough to pull it up and over his head. Your shift and undergarments are next to go, joining the other clothes on the floor in quick succession.

He pulls you back to him and the heat of his bare chest pressing against yours feels so good that you almost don’t notice that he’s walking you backwards toward the bed until you feel the mattress brush against the backs of your legs.

“On the bed,” he says roughly. His voice is commanding and stern and it goes straight to your aching cunt.

You slide onto the bed, relishing the feel of silk against your bare skin, your eyes locked on Loki as he starts removing his trousers. He looks like something out of a figure drawing, all lean muscles and understated strength. Your eyes drop to his cock as he removes his trousers. He is achingly hard, the tip flushed. You can feel yourself tense in delicious anticipation of what he will feel like buried to the hilt inside of you.

Your gaze trails back up to his face and you find that he is looking at you with the same sort of appraising, lustful look. His gaze roams over your breasts and down to your hips and back again before he finally meets your eyes.

“You look so pretty in my bed,” he says. “Even better than I imagined.”

“Were you not paying attention? I’ve been in your bed these past few nights,” you say.

“Not like this,” he says. “Not bare and waiting for me to fuck you into the mattress.”

You shiver, but you manage a sardonic smile. “To be clear, I wanted that last night and the two nights before. You simply chose to be a tease about it.”

“Trust me, darling,” he says, his gaze dark and hungry, “I’m about to make it up to you.”

You lick your lips and smirk. “Prove it to me, then.”

He allows himself one wicked grin before he crawls up the bed on top of you, looking as intent and hungry as a caged panther stalking its next meal.

You inhale sharply at the first brush of his bare skin against yours. He lowers himself on top of you, his cock resting hard and heavy against your stomach. You’re fairly certain you’ve never wanted him as much as you do right now. He leans in and kisses you deeply, his fingertips stroking along the curve of your jaw and the column of your throat before wandering lower to cup and caress your breasts.

You wrap your legs around his waist, arching against him and trying to angle your hips so that his cock rubs against you. His right hand trails down your body, pausing briefly at your hip to hold you in place.

“So eager, so slick,” he purrs. He kisses you again and you feel him take his cock in his hand and drag it in a slow circuit from your clit to your entrance and back again. You moan into his mouth and he chuckles. “It takes so little to soften that sharp tongue.”

You arch your back and press your breasts against his chest, your hands twining in his hair. He strokes his cock along you again, like he’s getting ready to fuck you properly and put an end to your aching need. You rock your hips forward, trying to encourage him.

But the moment you feel him smile against your mouth, you want to kick yourself. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

And indeed, he begins kissing a leisurely path down your neck mere seconds later.

“Loki,” you groan as he begins slowly easing his way down your body.

“I need to get you ready for me, darling,” he murmurs, sliding his tongue over the curve of your right breast.

“I’ve been ready for the last three d—”

You gasp as his teeth lightly graze your nipple, his tongue darting out to sweep over the sensitive skin before drawing it gently into his mouth and sucking as his hand cups your other breast, fingers gently rolling and pinching your nipple until it becomes pebbled and hard.

“I do so enjoy quieting that wicked tongue,” he murmurs.

You open your mouth to say something, but Loki is quicker, sucking your nipple back into his mouth, teasing it mercilessly with his teeth while his hand redoubles its efforts with your other breast. Your complaint fades away into a whimper that would be embarrassing if you had the capacity to care about anything beyond his mouth and hands. Your hands tangle in his hair, your hips rocking fruitlessly as you try to find friction that evades you as he lavishes attention on your breasts.

No amount of pleading seems to persuade him to go any faster, but eventually, he begins slowly kissing his way down your body, trailing his lips along your ribs, then down your stomach and to your hips. He looks up at you from in between your spread legs and you swear you can feel your arousal practically dripping out of you when he gives you that hungry smile.

He brings a single forefinger to the very top of your slit, his gaze locked on your face. Your breath hitches.

His finger skims but does not part your folds. It’s a soft, barely there touch that makes your aching cunt clench tightly around nothing. He takes his hand away and brings his face closer and for a moment, you think he’s finally going to give you some relief, but instead, he repeats that same feather light gesture with his lips, lightly pressing closed mouth kisses along the very edge of your slit.

He looks up at you, his eyes hooded and hazy with lust, though not so hazy that you think he’s lost any amount of control. He didn’t even really touch you, but you can still see a faint glint of moisture on his lips from how wet you are.

He licks his lips and your resolve breaks, abruptly and completely.

“Loki, please.”

He draws back slightly, his fingertips grazing your folds as he parts you gently, staring greedily at your exposed cunt.

“Look at you,” he breathes, his voice a low, dark purr. “Absolutely soaked and begging for me.”

You whimper.

“Such a pretty, needy cunt.” He licks his lips again and looks back up at you. “Shall I taste you, or do you want my fingers?”

Whatever shred of pride you still possess has long since vanished, your entire focus zeroing in on the throbbing ache between your legs. “Both,” you say, without a thought.

He raises an eyebrow, but there’s a spark of delight in his eyes. “Greedy girl. Do you think you deserve it? You’ve been awfully pert.”

“Loki, please,” you whimper. “I need you.”

“You need me?” he says, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Darling, you have me, I’m right here.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” you say.

“And what did you mean?” His voice is low, the warm exhale of his breath lightly brushing against your folds.

He’s played this game before, making you say exactly what it is that you want, no matter how filthy or indecent it may be. The prideful part of you isn’t fond of letting him win, but this is largely overshadowed by the desire that’s coiling like a snake in your belly and making you desperate.

You lick your lips. “I want you to put your mouth on me. I want to come for you.”

This particular turn of phrase seems to stir something in him—he gives you a wicked smile that is almost feral, his eyes darkening with lust. Slowly, he lowers his lips to just above your clit, pressing another chaste kiss against you, drawing forth another whimper from your lips.

“Say my name,” he breathes against your cunt.

“Loki, please.”

You can feel him smile just before the warm blade of his tongue presses forward, parting your folds in one long stroke.

You are so slick and sensitive and his mouth is so warm and perfect that for a moment, all you can do is moan as his tongue lightly brushes against your clit. He seems determined to continue things on his terms, working at a slow, leisurely pace that is enough to nudge you closer, but not quite enough to pull you over the edge. After a few minutes of just his tongue, he slides one finger inside of you, curling it so that it brushes ever so slightly against that soft, tender spot that can so easily unravel you. It’s not enough to make you see stars, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch and your hands tangle in his hair to pull him closer. He chuckles against you, but does not change his pace.

Just when you think you may start to go mad with wanting, a second finger joins the first, his fingers drawing sparks from where they graze against that spot inside you.

“Loki.”

His tongue flattens against your clit and his fingers curl just a little bit more.

You are panting, your heels digging into his back as he draws you closer to the starry oblivion that you’ve been thinking about all day. You are a mess of half whimpered pleas and breathy moans as he keeps you balanced on the edge, his fingers gradually curling more to rub that aching spot inside you as his tongue works your clit. The knot in your hips is impossibly tight, the heat in your belly smoldering. Distantly, you wonder how much more of this you can take.

He sucks your clit gently into his mouth as his fingers simultaneously hit that spot in just the right way and all at once, the heat and ache inside of you reaches its peak and breaks like a wave on the shore and you utterly unravel.

At first, you can’t even make a noise—all of your energy and focus is zeroed in on the way that your muscles are spasming and releasing and everything feels so good. But then that next wave pulls an obscene moan from deep in your chest and your fingers grip his hair so tightly that you think it might actually hurt, but he merely purrs against you as his tongue continues to stroke your clit.

You’re not sure how he manages to draw it out for so long, but it seems to last forever, every part of you fizzing like you’re filled with champagne and stardust. Eventually, the tingling pleasure of the aftershocks blurs into your second orgasm, stealing your breath and bending your body upwards like a bow pulled taut as you moan Loki’s name like a prayer.

He doesn’t stop, though—not until he draws a third one from you, making you cry out so loudly you almost expect half the palace to come running.

He finally lifts his head as you come down from your high, his lips and chin coated in the evidence of your arousal as he gives you a ravenous smile. “You taste so sweet when you come,” he says. “I could stay between your legs for days.”

Just the thought of that makes you shiver and his smile widens. You reach for him, arms trembling and you’re a little surprised when he obliges, crawling up your body and into your arms with little more than a pleased smirk. Your arms wind around him as he settles on top of you, his cock pressing enticingly against your stomach. He kisses you and you melt, your hands moving again to tangle in his hair.

“Please,” you breathe when he brings his lips to your earlobe, gently worrying it between his teeth, “don’t make me wait any longer. I need you so badly.”

His hand slides down your thigh, hitching your leg up over his hip. “You’ve had my mouth and my fingers and now you want my cock?” he says, pressing a kiss just behind your ear.

“Yes.” There’s no point in denying it, not when he’s felt how wet you are, not when he’s so close to finally taking you, not when you still want him so badly you ache.

“Hmm.” He shifts slightly so that his hips align with yours, dragging his cock along your sopping cunt until his full length is covered in your slickness. He frowns thoughtfully, like he’s genuinely weighing whether you want him, whether you’re ready, though that mischievous glint in his eye is a dead giveaway of his true intentions.

You decide to try flattery once more. “Please, Loki. I need you.”

You can feel him, hot and hard, poised at your entrance. When he doesn’t immediately push forward, you are not surprised to find him smirking down at you. And as much as you need him, as desperate as you feel, you can’t help but scowl at him.

“Must you always be an insufferable tease?” you say.

“I’m merely savoring the moment,” he says, though the spark in his eyes says otherwise.

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure.”

“There’s a lot to savor.” He presses his hips forward ever so slightly and you gasp as the tip of his cock slides into you. “That right there,” he says huskily. “That lovely little sigh.”

You try and thrust your hips forward, but he’s got you pinned against the mattress. “Loki,” you whine.

“Be good.” He creeps forward another inch and his eyes close, his breath hitching. “Norns, you’re tight.”

This gives you an idea and you intentionally clench your muscles around him. He’s not expecting that and he groans, his teasing expression yielding for a moment to a pure, unguarded pleasure. His eyes refocus and he grins at you. “Vixen,” he says.

“Stop teasing and fuck me properly,” you say.

“Ah, but you make such pretty sounds for me when I tease you,” he says, pressing forward another inch. A breathy whine escapes from your lungs before you can stop it and he indulges in a catlike grin. “Just like that.”

“Loki.”

“Yes, darling?” He says this with a smirk, like he still has the upper hand.

“Fuck me. Please.”

“Such filth coming out of that pretty mouth,” he says, his hips pressing forward another inch. You tense your muscles again and his groan is delicious. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say.

“Filthy girl.” But at last there’s a crack in his impeccable composure and he slides forward those last few inches.

Your head tips back and you moan as his hips finally press flush against you. You knew he was big, but you still weren’t entirely prepared for how full you would feel, how he seems to press against every sensitive part of your cunt. His fingers and mouth were incredible but his cock may very well send you to another plane of existence entirely.

You are so distracted by how good he feels that you’re almost taken aback when he begins to move. He feels so good when he’s seated fully inside of you, but when he’s moving—when he’s moving, it steals your breath away and sends sparks shooting all over your body, even at the slow teasing pace that he’s currently employing to try and drive you wild.

It’s so good. It’s so good and you don’t want it to end, but after so many days of teasing and the three orgasms he’s drawn from you tonight, you can feel your end quickly approaching, inevitable as thunder after lightning. You try to fight it off, wanting to make this last as long as possible.

“You’re holding back,” he says as you struggle to keep yourself on the edge. “I want to feel you come.”

“Don’t want it to end,” you manage to gasp.

To your surprise, he gives a low chuckle. “If you think I’ll be done fucking your exquisite cunt so soon, you are quite mistaken.” His eyes darken as he gives a particularly sensual thrust that makes you keen. “Now be a good girl and come on my cock.”

You try to hold back even so, but it’s no use: his words speak to some hungry, feral part of you and your orgasm overtakes you, sudden and swift as a riptide pulling you under. His pace never falters, his hips continuing to move in steady, powerful thrusts as you shudder around him. You ache for him even as he fills you, his cock rubbing against all the sensitive places deep inside you and drawing out a raw, primal pleasure that makes you cling to him, your fingernails painting long scratches down his back.

You expect your orgasm to drive him quickly to his own end, despite his assertion otherwise. His eyes flutter shut when you come and he allows himself a soft groan, but his pace remains steady and even as he fucks you through your orgasm. As you tremble through the aftershocks, he offers you a rather wicked grin and leans in to kiss you.

“You’re going to do that again for me,” he says against your lips. His husky voice alone is enough to make you shiver.

“Do you think you can manage it, your highness?” The effect of this retort is immediately ruined by the obscene moan that falls unbidden from your lips as he pulls your right leg up higher and presses even deeper inside of you, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit.

“Your mouth says one thing, but your cunt—” He punctuates this with a rough thrust that makes you keen, “—says something else entirely. I can feel you fluttering around me.”

You whimper as his too clever fingers stroke your sensitive clit and slow, deep thrusts drive you closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes,” he breathes, his gaze intent on your face. “Give into it. Let me feel you.”

Your back arches and your nails dig into his shoulders. It’s only a matter of time, a few more thrusts. His eyes glitter like he knows this. His fingers press against your clit.

“Come for me,” he says and you do without hesitation, careening headfirst into another starry euphoria. Your cries mingle with a low groan from him, but his pace never falters as you tremble around the thick girth of his cock.

His cool facade is starting to falter, if the desperate way that he kisses you is any indication. His fingers leave your clit so he can shift his position above you, putting his weight on his elbows to drive himself even deeper inside of you. His pace is still slow and steady, but there’s a slight wildness in his movements that makes you arch up into him. His hands roam your body, gripping your hips, kneading and squeezing your breasts. His mouth covers yours, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, his tongue sliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm as his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. He overwhelms your senses in the best way possible and all you can do is wrap yourself around him and meet the maddening rock of his hips with your own.

He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes are slightly unfocused in a way that makes you ache because you immediately know he’s close—and the fact that he’s close because of you is incredibly arousing.

“I’m going to come inside you,” he says, his voice rough. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you breathe, tensing around him.

“You’re going to come with me,” he says, and despite the wanting in his voice and the desperate hunger in his eyes, his tone is still commanding and sure in a way that makes you shiver in anticipation.

And despite the fact that he’s already made you come so many times already, you know that he’s right.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” he says, somehow managing another one of those wicked grins that goes straight to your cunt. “You’re going to come on my cock like a good girl while I spill myself in your tight, wet cunt.”

“Yes.” Your brain works in fits and starts now as he takes you higher and higher. Yes. Yes. More. Please. More. Please. Yes…

He grinds his hips into you, his pubic bone pressing against your clit in a way that makes you see stars.

“Come with me.”

Bliss overtakes you and you come hard, only this time, it’s different because this time Loki is cursing and moaning with you and shuddering through his own orgasm and that alone seems to extend yours as he spills himself deep inside you. His thrusts become erratic and slow until he finally stills, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

The weight of him is comforting and solid, anchoring you as you slowly regain control of your senses. You can’t help but feel a small flash of pride over the way his breath is still a little ragged against your neck, how he stays pressed inside you, how you can feel his heart pounding hard.

After a few minutes, he lifts his head. You expect him to set about the business of cleaning up, but instead, he kisses you. It’s surprisingly tender and slow, especially for a tryst that you fully expect he’ll end tonight. Now that he’s had you, surely there are others who will occupy his attention.

The thought makes you a little sad, though you don’t like admitting it.

He pulls back slightly after a moment. “I believe I’ve properly atoned for teasing you these last few days,” he says with a lazy smirk.

You raise an eyebrow. “There was an awful lot of teasing, your highness.”

He grins. “I suppose I’ll have to try harder tomorrow.”

It’s probably not a good idea to continue this, but it’s more difficult to keep yourself from smiling as he kisses you again.

Next chapter

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki laufeyson smut #loki fanfiction #as the clock strikes midnight

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year

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Title: cruel summer | chapter 2

Pairing: Joel Miller/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapters: 6/6

Read on AO3 | Join the tag list

Summary:

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Content warnings: age difference (15 years), explicit sexual content

Additional tags: oral sex (m receiving), masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, angst, internalized guilt, Joel Miller is emotionally constipated but Trying His Best. Let me know if I’ve missed anything!

Joel stops eating lunch with you after that day in the kitchen. You try not to let it affect you, but you miss him. You miss the easy conversation and the way he makes you laugh without even trying. It’s hard to focus on studying with him constantly on your mind, especially when he’s so close but just out of reach.

A few days pass without any interaction with him at all. He comes inside and immediately heads upstairs and the only reason you even know he’s there is the heavy footsteps above your head.

So you’re surprised when one day he comes downstairs and heads straight towards you, stopping a respectable distance away. He clears his throat and runs a hand nervously through his hair.

“Sarah’s daycare just called. I forgot it was a half day for them, I gotta go pick her up,” he says. “I’ve got grout mixed upstairs. I’ll come back as soon as I can, but I’ll have to see if Tommy can come watch her.”

“Oh. Why don’t…you can just…bring her here? I can watch her, if you need,” you reply. He stops his nervous fidgeting, hands dropping to his side.

“Really?” He asks. “You don’t have to do that, I don’t want to interrupt your studyin’.”

“Not getting much done today, anyways,” you say pointedly. He presses his lips together.

“Right. Well, uh, if you’re sure. I’ll go get her now.”

“Why don’t you give me your cell number. You can call me if you change your mind and are going to take longer getting back here,” you suggest.

He nods, digging his phone from his pocket and handing it to you. You pass him yours from the table. After entering your number, you exchange devices again. You check your contacts, biting back a smile seeing the entry titled “Joel (contractor)”.

As if you wouldn’t know who he was.

“Okay, well. I’ll be back,” he says, heading out the door with a lingering look.

————

Sarah is sitting in her car seat, asking Joel a thousand questions about where they’re going.

“Daddy’s gotta work, sweetheart. But I’ve got a very nice friend who’s goin’ to watch you while he’s busy,” he explains. “We’re going to her house.”

“Oh. Does she have toys?” She asks.

“I’m not sure. She might.”

“I hope so. Does she have snacks?”

“Probably.”

Her questions continue in the same manner until he pulls into your driveway. She frees herself from her car seat and hops from the truck, running to the front door faster than Joel can catch up. She’s bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet as he pushes the door open, but she clings to his arm as he enters the hallway.

Joel checks the kitchen but finds it empty. He calls out your name.

“In the living room!” You shout back.

He’s surprised to find you surrounded by a couple large storage totes, digging through one and pulling out another box stuffed with what looks like fabric. You look up when they enter and smile brightly.

“Hi! You must be Sarah,” you say to his little girl, giving her your name as well. “Do you like Barbie dolls?”

Sarah nods, her grip loosening from her dad’s arm as you start to pull some Barbie dolls from one bin. Joel watches you tell his daughter about how they’d been yours when you were her age, and that they’re very excited to have someone play with them again. You open the box of clothes and accessories, Sarah’s face lighting up at all the options.

Watching you with his daughter feels like a fist to the gut. You’re so attentive and kind, patiently explaining the different dolls to her and their backstories that he just can’t look away.

It’s not until you look up at him and your smile falters the slightest bit that he clears his throat and says, “Alright, sweetie, you all good here?”

“Yes, daddy,” she says dutifully, focused on changing the outfit on one of the dolls you’d given her.

“I’ll be upstairs if you need anything,” he says, more to you than to Sarah. You only nod in response.

He trudges up the stairs with a lump in his throat and a vise grip around his heart.

_______

Sarah might just be the best kid you’ve ever met. She’s smart and funny, making up the silliest stories for the Barbie’s to act out. You can see why Joel is such a softie for her.

“Do you have anything else we can play with?” She asks after about an hour of playing with the dolls.

“Why don’t we head outside?” You ask, picking the toys up off the floor.

“Okay! Can I show you my cartwheel?” She asks, jumping up from the floor and trailing after you towards the back door.

“Uh, absolutely!”

She runs full speed out the sliding glass door, bypassing the pool and heading straight for the grassy yard beyond. “Watch! Watch!” She calls out to you as she plants her hands to the ground and shows off her cartwheel.

“Wow, that’s awesome, Sarah!” You call out. You dig in the pool storage and pull out a forgotten soccer ball that you’re pretty sure has been in there since high school. It’s a little flat, but it’ll do.

Sarah continues to do cartwheels through the yard while you kick the ball around. She catches sight of what you’re doing and runs over to join, watching as you demonstrate some of the footwork from high school sitting in the recesses of your mind.

Sarah eventually starts to complain about being hungry, so you head back inside to set up a snack for her. “Give me one second, sweetie, I’ll be right back.”

You jog up the stairs and head to your parent’s room. Joel’s wiping the excess grout from the shower tile he’s just laid when you tap on the doorframe to get his attention. He looks up at you in surprise, dropping the wet sponge in the bucket and standing.

“Hey. I was just about to make a snack for Sarah and I wanted to make sure she doesn’t have any allergies or anything?” You ask. He stares at you for a moment before taking a step closer, hand wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging your lips to his.

You’re surprised but your traitorous body responds before your brain can, your lips moving hungrily against his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He presses you back against the door frame, his calloused and slightly damp hands coming up to grip your face and angling it to his liking. His tongue slips past your lips and tangles with yours, making you whimper.

He pulls away all too soon, smoothing a hand against your hair as he stares into your eyes, his breathing quick and labored.

“No…no allergies,” he finally says. You huff out a laugh.

“Right…you could have just said that,” you joke. He cracks a smile.

“Get back downstairs. I’ll be done soon.”

________

Joel tried to do the respectable thing. He really did. He was going to let that one slip up be left in the past, move on with a perfectly normal working relationship. No more lunches, no more lingering in the doorway to talk to you when he comes in the morning and you’re still sleepy, sipping your coffee that’s more sugar than anything. No more after dark thoughts of you as he lays in bed palming his cock. Just him and the bathroom remodel.

But then you’d offered to look after Sarah, and you could have easily stuck her in front of the TV while you went about your day, but you gave her your undivided attention. He’d watched from the window as you showed her some fancy soccer footwork that he didn’t even know you knew how to do. You cheered for her when she landed six cartwheels in a row and then laughed when she crashed to the ground, dizzy and giggling. He’d watched you run around the yard with her on your back, a pool noodle held in her hand as she commanded you to charge forward.

And just like it always does when it comes to you, the weak walls of his resolve crumble around him.

To top it all off, you came upstairs to ask him the most innocent but thoughtful question and goddamnit, he can’t do this. He had to kiss you.

Now that you’re no longer standing in front of him, the logical part of his brain kicks back on and the guilt returns. What the hell is expecting out of this? He’s here temporarily, for a job, and so are you. You’ll return to school at the end of the summer and he’ll be here…what? Pining after a girl fifteen years his junior who could have any number of men her age falling at her feet?

Joel scrubs a hand over his face. Much as he hates to admit it, he’s going to have to man up and have a real conversation about all this. He pulls his phone from his pocket and shoots a text to Tommy to see if he can come over and keep an eye on Sarah tonight after she goes to bed.

________

Joel comes down about thirty minutes later and Sarah runs towards him, throwing her arms around his legs and hugging me tightly.

“We had so much fun, daddy! She watched me do all my cartwheels and we played calgary!”

You snort. “Cavalry, sweetie,” you correct.

“That!” She exclaims. Her head tilts back to look up at her dad with big brown eyes so full of love it makes your stomach flip.

“It sounds like you had a great day, baby,” Joel says, running a hand over her curly brown hair. “It’s time we head out.”

She pouts and Joel hits her with a look that’s so quintessentially dad that you have to bite back a laugh. The young girl sighs dramatically before stomping out of the room towards the front door.

Joel reaches a hand out towards you and you step forward, slipping your hand into his. “Can I come over later? To talk?” He asks quietly, fingers tangling with yours.

“S-sure,” you reply. He gives you one last nod before he lets go of your hand, heading out the door after Sarah.

_______

Tommy comes over around 8:00 that evening, after Sarah’s in bed following another chapter of James and the Giant Peach. He lets himself in, joining Joel in the kitchen where he’s cleaning up after dinner.

“Where ya off to this late, old man?” Tommy asks, opening the freezer and peering inside. “No ice cream?”

“Get outta my fridge,” Joel snaps, whacking him with the dish towel in his hands. “And none of your business, nosy lil shit.”

Tommy holds his hands up in surrender. “Geez, touchy.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t go riflin’ through the pantry, either, I already hid the cookies.”

Tommy’s annoyed groan follows him out the door. In the truck, he finds your name in his contacts and opens a new text thread.

On my way.

_______

Your phone chimes on the coffee table, screen lighting with a message notification from Joel letting you know he’s on his way. It’s the first time he’s ever contacted you by phone, and you smile down at the brand new text thread despite the dry, no nonsense message.

You fight the urge to reply, fidgeting in your seat with nerves. You have nothing else to focus your attention on as you wait for Joel to show up. You’ve already cleaned up after dinner and your second glass of wine sits on the coffee table. You’ve changed into your pajamas, a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized UT t-shirt you’d stolen from an ex-boyfriend.

The man himself puts you out of your misery with a soft knock at your front door. You open it to find Joel standing there in another pair of jeans, dark wash instead of the light wash work pair he usually wears, and a soft looking flannel, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey,” he says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His eyes roam your body, every place they linger tingling under his gaze. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’m surprised you didn’t just use the key.”

“Key is for the job. This ain’t part of the job.”

“Right,” you mumble, trailing behind him as he heads for the kitchen. “You want anything to drink? I’ve got beer.”

“Sure.”

You grab a can from the fridge and carry it with you to the living room, setting it beside your glass of wine on the coffee table. You take a seat, folding your legs under you. Joel stands near the doorway, like he’s not sure whether to sit or make an escape.

Finally, he joins you on the couch, a healthy cushion length of distance between your bodies. He smooths his palms over his thighs before grabbing the can of beer and popping the top.

“So…you want to talk?” You ask, breaking the tense silence. He sighs.

“I wanted to apologize. For what happened the other day,” he says, staring at the can of beer like it’ll say the words for him. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. After.”

You remain quiet. It had been shitty, getting left behind, all the adrenaline leaving your body and making you feel untethered. You’d cleaned yourself up and hidden in your room the rest of the afternoon, curled up in your bed.

“I don’t know what I’m doin’ here,” he confesses.

“Sure felt like you knew what you were doing,” you comment. Your smile is smug as you watch his cheeks heat.

“What I mean is,” he continues, throwing you a sharp look that reminds you of the one he’d used on Sarah that afternoon, “I don’t know what you’d want with a guy like me, baby. You’re goin’ back to school in a month, you’ve got dreams and goals I couldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, and you’re just a kid—“

“Don’t call me kid, Joel. I’m a grown fuckin’ woman, and I don’t need you making choices for me out of your own guilt.”

Joel clenches his jaw, his grip on the can of beer going tight enough to dent the aluminum.

“I don’t feel guilty about wanting you, Joel. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it. We don’t have to define anything, we just…go at this with no rules. See what happens.” You shuffle closer to him, walking across the cushions on your knees until you’re kneeling beside him.

“No rules?” He asks. You can practically taste your victory.

You lean closer, bringing your palm up to turn his face towards you, his lips parting slightly as his eyes search yours.

“No rules,” you whisper.

________

This didn’t go at all as Joel had planned. He’d been intent on coming over here, apologizing for his behavior, and explaining that he wouldn’t be sending you any further mixed signals. That all of this had to stop.

But instead, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you into his lap, his lips pressed to yours to swallow your gasp. His hands shift the long hem of your shirt out of his way so that he can grip your ass and drag you closer.

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, fumbling to get them undone. Your mouth leaves his to plant kisses to his jaw and down his neck, your teeth nipping as you go. Joel groans your name, his hips flexing as you push apart his shirt to expose his chest to your greedy hands.

Your nails scrape down his pecs, catching on his nipples and making him hiss, his head dropping back against the back of the couch.

Your weight leaves his lap and he looks up, ready to complain and haul your ass back where it belongs. But you’re dropping to your knees between his spread legs and looking up at him through your lashes as your hands smooth up his thighs.

“I want you in my mouth, Joel,” you tell him, voice pitched low. “I think about it a lot. What it would be like to suck your cock.”

“God, baby, I think about it, too,” Joel confesses, hips thrusting as you undo his belt and fly. He helps you shove his pants down far enough that his cock springs free, slapping lewdly against his stomach. “Put your mouth on me, sweetheart.”

Joel should have known you wouldn’t make this easy. You don’t listen to his plea. Instead, you wrap your delicate little hand around his throbbing length and give it a few leisurely pumps that have him gritting his teeth.

Then, holding his dick steady, you lean forward to grace him with just one little kitten lick to his head, tongue swiping through the bead of precum that’s already pooled at the slit. Your eyelids flutter and you hum appreciatively and Joel has to fucking will himself not to come all over your pretty face.

“You’re such a lil fuckin’ tease, aren’t ya,” he bites out. You give him your most saccharine smile, the mischievous glint in your eye unmistakable.

He places a hand on your head, fingers flexing against your scalp but not pressing or directing. No, this is your show and he knows that.

You lick up the underside of his cock before finally, finally taking him into your mouth. He groans at the sensation, the tight wet heat the best thing he’s ever felt.

At least for now.

You show him no mercy, taking him as far back into your throat as you can before coming up for air and circling the head with your tongue before diving back down. You gag a couple times, each time making your throat tighten around the head of his cock and making him moan out your name.

Joel catches movement below and lifts his head further to see your hand wiggle its way into those little sleep shorts you’re wearing. “Are you wet, baby? Did you soak yourself just sucking my cock?”

You nod, mouth too full to respond with words. You look so goddamn pretty with your mouth stretched around his thick length, your lashes wet with tears.

“You wanna come with me, sweet girl?” You nod. “Listen to me, then. Slide just one finger into that pretty cunt for me, okay?”

You nod again, doing as you’re told. He can’t see anything past this giant t-shirt you’re wearing and he growls in frustration.

“Bet that feels good, huh, darlin’? Ridin’ your fingers with my cock stuffed down your throat. Add another finger for me, that’s it.” You moan around his length, the vibrations nearly sending him over the edge.

“Can you take a third finger for me? We gotta get you nice and stretched if you’re gonna take my cock someday soon.” You give a little whimper as your motions pause while you work a third finger into your pussy. “That’s it, Christ, you look like fuckin’ sin, sweetheart.”

Eyes shut, you work your hand in the same rhythm as your mouth. When you start to get sloppy, Joel begins to thrust into your mouth.

“Focus on yourself, that’s it. You just worry about makin’ yourself come all over your fingers and I’ll worry about fillin’ this gorgeous fuckin’ mouth.”

With your other hand free, you use it to rub fast circles on your clit. It only takes Joel a few shallow thrusts before he’s spilling down your throat and you’re swallowing around him as you reach your own peak and crash through the ecstasy.

Joel waits until your limbs start to go limp before hauling you back into his lap, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

“Wow,” you mumble against his shoulder, making him grin. You pull back to look at him and Joel hates the bit of fear hiding in the back of your gaze. “You don’t…have to leave right now, right?”

“No, baby, I can stay with you a bit longer.”

Joel’s fingers scratch lightly down your back, making you wiggle appreciatively. He fiddles with the hem of your shirt.

“Where’s this shirt from?” He asks innocently.

“Oh, it’s an ex’s shirt,” you murmur sleepily. Joel hums.

“Maybe I have one rule,” Joel says just as you’re nodding off.

“Hmm?”

“We’re getting rid of this fuckin’ shirt.”

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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wing-ed-thing · 11 months

Text

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Part VI

Synopsis: You would say that you grew up together. From children, to teenagers, to young leaders, you did nothing but be who you were and Tobirama would forever name his love for you as the reason he hated the Uchiha.

Word Count: 6k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including physical child abuse, violence, and non-con elements. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

Notes: IT IS HERE! YES! i purposefully make it long and full of drama to make up for the amount of times I pushed the release back. I also put a lot of my own thoughts in the end author’s notes so please enjoy! I most definitely could not have written this content a year ago let me tell you—

The memory of you struck him like lightning, electrocuting him to his core with panic and disgust. He revoked his touch from you as you began to sit up on the riverbank in acute panic.

He just stared at you. Tobirama had no idea how he remembered you, yet he wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. Yes, you were older, but as he considered the shape of your face, he could see the unmistakable look from the forest back then. You had the same nose, such a familiar laugh, and your eyes… even without your sharingan.

He had thought of you as a foul creature.

That morning when he first saw you in the woods.

Tobirama had come home much earlier that day in defeat. He hadn’t wanted to stay and train after his encounter with you. He tried to continue, to find another spot to collect himself, but he ultimately couldn’t help but feel that you were still there, watching him. Knowing an Uchiha lurked around in the woods, it was probably best that he didn’t go off alone for his safety.

He remembered how his father stormed toward him when he returned to the compound. Butsuma’s jaw was clenched as tightly as ever, battle-toned arms swinging with each step of his furious gait. He swooped in on his son, grabbing Tobirama harshly by the arm. Tobirama was tugged along awkwardly, his legs too short for the angle at which Butsuma dragged him.

“Where have you been?” his father scolded lowly between gritted teeth. He paid no mind to the Senju meandering down the same dirt road, and they paid no mind to him in turn.

The question nearly made Tobirama’s heart drop in his chest, the memory of you spreading terror like wildfire across his skin. He looked into Butsuma’s gaze with wide eyes, wondering how his father could have possibly known he had made contact with an Uchiha. His fingers unconsciously rose to the space under his right eye, almost trembling. He was sure that his father could feel the tremor through his hold.

“Training, Father,” Tobirama answered earnestly. He almost crashed into Butsuma as his father stopped suddenly, the child only tripping for a moment before he was pulled into a nearby stable.

“Tobirama, where have you been?” Butsuma barked, repeating his question more harshly. He jerked Tobirama away by the grip on his arm, allowing him to stumble back into the hay. All Tobirama could do was stare, ashamed that he had disgraced the Senju name and that his father could see it painted on him. Promises piled up on his lips: if he saw you again, he would surely kill you that time! He would immediately set out and— “You better answer me now, boy, or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”

“I was training with Grandfather’s kunai, Father! On the east end by the mountains like you taught me!” He nodded profusely, scrambling into a deep bow. Tobirama’s eyes knitted closed.

The silence above him felt like it lasted for an eternity. Tobirama didn’t dare to look, and for a long moment, he couldn’t even meet his father’s eye. Somewhere between the seconds, he found himself mindlessly observing the small population of livestock grazing at the stable's far end. Tobirama glanced at them and their troughs.

“You were not with Hashirama?” Butsuma spoke slowly, and Tobirama’s head carefully rose with a shake.

“No, I was not.” Tobirama flinched as Butsuma’s hand came firmly down on his hair, placing just enough weight on his skull to ensure that all of Tobirama’s attention was on him. “I assure you. I was practicing my skill with the kunai.”

“Your elder brother has been acting suspiciously as of late. I want you to find him and report to me what he has been up to.” Butsuma landed a harsh pat on Tobirama’s back, ushering him away. He scrambled away as quickly as he could back into the forest, still gripping the pack of weaponry on his back.

***

It made more sense after that evening.

Hashirama knelt on a cushion beside him, the two sons before their father.

“About this boy you have been meeting up with. I looked into that young man and learned that he belongs to the Uchiha clan. Hashirama, you understand what that means, do you not?” The brothers stiffened, forcing on stoic faces so as not to let their discomfort show. Butsuma’s gaze narrowed. “If you do not want to be suspected as a spy, then you must shadow him after the next time the two of you meet. And if he should notice you… kill him.”

Tobirama eyed his brother nervously. Undoubtedly, the conflict between the Senju and the Uchiha would mean this was the only way to rectify things. Tobirama stared down at his lap, guilt weighing down on his shoulders.

There was no way for anyone to know about his encounter with you, and even if his father found out, Tobirama was different. At least he tried to kill you. That was enough, wasn’t it? Unlike Hashirama, he at least tried to do the right thing and kill the Uchiha on sight, no matter his level of success.

After a moment of preponderance, Hashirama spoke again,

“Are you completely sure he is an Uchiha?”

Tobirama gulped, bracing himself for the heavy hit that awaited Hashirama. But it didn’t come. Butsuma studied him with crossed arms, bubbling rage mounting in his chest. He gritted his teeth.

“You trust a member of the clan who killed your brother?” Butsuma simmered. Tobirama stewed, praying for the moment that he was allowed to leave. Hashirama sat confused and still deep in thought on his cushion, not appearing nearly as worried as he should, in Tobirama’s opinion. “If he has been tricking you, you are putting every single Senju in danger.”

Despite Tobirama attempting to convince him otherwise, Hashirama was reluctant to comply. But after a lengthy beating from Butsuma, Hashirama finally agreed to be followed. As they eventually left the room, Tobirama couldn’t help but avert his gaze from the deep bruises and the forlorn expression on Hashirama’s face.

***

“I am an apothecary,” you had told him.

He didn’t ask you where. With the tumultuous clan wars, Tobirama assumed you were part of a smaller, nomadic group. As the more prominent clans and clan alliances fought, non-combatants traveled to safer ground, ironically forming their own larger herds for protection.

That was Tobirama’s first mistake: assuming.

“An apothecary,” Tobirama repeated. You wore his fur, curled up against a bed of river glass and hidden between a mess of boulders. He sat on a nearby rock, the headband you had confiscated and returned to him clutched in a ball in his hand. Tobirama cocked his head. “Is that a healer?”

“A woman healer?” you asked, hardly restraining the tiny smile that graced your lips. Your eyes glowed with wonder as you leaned forward, having never heard of such a thing. “No, I am afraid I only collect herbs for medicine. Although our current apothecary is very old, he taught me how to create medicines when we used to live by the coast. A rare honor.” Tobirama’s eyebrows rose on his forehead with an impressed blink.

“That is admirable. Your work takes a keen eye and a sharp mind.” You shifted against the grass to sit with your legs crossed as you leaned forward. A patch of small river flowers grew in a cluster where the gravel of the riverbank began. The white petals grew sporadically down the length of the land. You weaved your fingers through the tiny stems, the pure light color glowing against your skin.

“You know about medicine?” you mused.

“Yes, my clan is well renowned for our knowledge of various medicines. The children are taught about these things at a young age, although, I possessed neither a keen enough eye nor a sharp enough mind for healing, to the disappointment of my mother.” You drew a bent knee toward your chest, rearranging your long robes as you gently collected the tiny flowers.

“Was she a woman healer?” You scooted forward to sit in front of him.

“No,” he said, letting you smooth back his hair. “She was a warrior like my father. Wove baskets—beautiful baskets— when she was with us. My grandmother was a master healer, though.”

“A woman master healer,” you breathed in awe to yourself, weaving the flowers into Tobirama’s hair. You couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed your lips. “That is fascinating.”

“My grandfather used to take me fishing in the northern streams before he passed. He always brought her herbs. Perhaps I could find some of her formulas. You may find them interesting.”

“Really?” You leaned back on your ankles, admiring the little white flowers that adorned Tobirama’s crown. “I could not ask you to do such a thing.”

“If you are not allowed to learn of medicine and herbs, how else will you pursue being a great apothecary?” You blinked at him in disbelief, taken aback. “That is your dream, is it not? You speak of it often.”

“Do I?” You let out a light laugh, sheepishly averting your gaze. “I apologize. My good friend from home often tells me I speak too much.” Tobirama scoffed.

“Some friend,” he muttered, but his gaze softened as he adjusted the fur over your shoulders. “You do not speak too much. Especially when it concerns things you are passionate about. Therefore—” Tobirama plucked one of the flowers out of his hair and tucked it behind your ear. “Tell me about this flower.”

You instinctively opened your mouth but quickly closed it when you noticed Tobirama’s expression chance. He held a glint in his eye and the beginning of a smile on his thin lips. He leaned forward, brushing your hand along another patch of little petals.

“I know you know this one,” he said softly before leaning back against the boulder behind him. His bright red eyes met your own. They held softness in them. “Please, I would like to listen.”

You almost laughed, your nervousness almost causing you to forget all your knowledge as his touch left you.

“They call this purity flower. It is incredibly delicate, and they only grow this big.” You stared down to where Tobirama had placed your hand. “You can do quite a few things with them. They are wonderful for sore throats, sanitizing wounds, upset stomachs…”

You brushed through them, and a few flowers crumpled under your fingers.

He would never forget that. The way your face fell as the flowers at the center of the cluster began to shrivel.

***

He was smarter than Hashirama.

Tobirama wasn’t a traitor to the clan. Tobirama wouldn’t be caught fraternizing with an Uchiha like his foolish brother. He was stern, calculating. He was so careful.

He had carried his prized Uchiha-killing kunai with him the entire time.

It was strapped to his leg when he first chased after you.

It was with him as you adorned him with blossoms.

He held the same knife he had once held up to your neck as he screamed in your face that he would carve out your eyes the entire time.

And he had another chance.

It was right in front of him, as you blathered on about the daylight. Your lips moved, but nothing came from your mouth.

He had another opportunity to redeem himself.

The moment of his childhood that haunted him for many nights could have been corrected. Tobirama was a true warrior now. He could have killed you. He could have carved out your sharingan, sinking his kunai into your skull as you screamed and kicked under him, just as he promised long ago. No one would hear you out here.

He could do anything he wanted to you.

But he hesitated again, and now his only weapon was lost.

The time you had been sneaking around had hardly been long; the days in sum dwarfed compared to a year.

And now he watched you in the morning sun, his heart and head doing a double take as his eyes hurriedly searched for the kunai he had pushed into the river. But it was long gone.

“It is morning?!” You exclaimed, scrambling to your feet. Startled, Tobirama scurried up with you, stumbling back until one of his feet sank into the rushing water. You lurched forward instinctively to steady him.

“Do not touch me!” he barked, and the gruffness of his voice made you recoil. He faltered, sputtering with a vigorous shake of his head. Tobirama balanced himself as the cold, rushing current pushed at his knee. He looked up at you, staring into your wide, confused eyes.

Looking upon you in the daylight made him view you in a way he never had before.

Yes, he could see it now.

He could see the Uchiha in you… and it was ugly.

Every part of him burned. It was as if he had been coated in mud, leaving his skin irritated, itchy and inflamed. He wished he could scrub every inch of himself of you. Slice, scratch, and claw into himself to erase the ghost of your lingering touch.

Tobirama burned with shame.

You shifted, moving to speak, when something covered your eyes. You snatched it slowly in confusion, but as the silk ribbon slid from your hair to drape over your fingers, your eyes quickly widened even farther than they already were. Tobirama stood in the water, watching you with a pounding chest as you, too, stumbled back. Your gaze darted from the Uchiha crest to Tobirama, who, for once, did not hold any softness in his expression.

“Oh.” You held your shaking hand up to your lips. You took another step back. Tobirama didn’t move.

He looked angry, the tension of his clenched jaw just about making the entirety of his body shake. His brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and rage. And all he could do was stare at you with fists balled up in mounting fury. Tobirama’s eyes turned glossy as he held back the burning tears that threatened to spill over his waterline.

You weren’t thinking, not as you stepped forward and spoke his name.

You wanted to go to him, tell him it was all a misunderstanding. Something. You tried to tell him something, anything.

You stepped forward, and Tobirama planted his second foot in the water.

“Do not come closer, Uchiha!” he spat. His words halted you in your stride. Tobirama stumbled back, splashing in the shallows. His clothes were drenched with dark patches which adorned his legs and sides. He held his hand up, almost as a buffer between him and you. He shook, and droplets fell back into the rushing current of the water.

His father’s words to his brother repeatedly played in his head.

Tobirama had been endangering his clan all this time. He had been reckless and naive, just like his brother. He sat as the current rushed by, stuck and frozen like a cornered animal, trying to calculate how many of his kinsmen could have been saved if he had been more sparing with his tongue.

You spoke in a meek voice,

“Tobirama—”

“Get out of here! Do not dare show your face back here, foul creature; I will kill you!” he screamed with all the weight of his guilt. Tobirama rose to his full height, hulking shoulders squared. You didn’t wait a second longer before you ran. You ran straight into the brush, and in an instant, you were deep into the forest. You could still hear Tobirama shouting behind you. “I will kill you, Uchiha! I will carve out your sharingan! I—”

He choked the moment he lost sight of you.

Tobirama dropped to his knees, splashing again down into the water. He heaved, his throat burning as he threw up into the river's current. Tobirama uttered a strangled cry, mucus dropping from his mouth and nose. Hot tears poured down his face as he gasped into the surface, nearly drowning himself in the water and his own mess.

You continued to run. You ran through the woods, paying little mind to the scrapes you collected as you rushed back toward the Uchiha colony. Your foot snagged against a fallen branch, causing you to smack face-first into a nearby log. You scrambled to your feet, heart pumping as you continued back home, your breath rasping rhythmically in your ears. Wetness streamed down your face, combining tears, snot, and blood to cake your skin.

But as you grew closer to your colony, the scent of smoke grew stronger. And as you looked up between the branches, you could see a dark cloud rising into the air.

The weeping became clearer. Agonized weeping.

You burst forth from the trees to your family’s garden.

To where the garden should have been, but the garden was gone.

Your home was gone, and a smoking pile of charcoal was left in its place.

A few structural beams shot out from the pile of char, like pleading limbs reaching up toward the heavens for a salvation that would never come. The paper walls were gone. The engawa had been reduced to rubble. The engawa that you and Madara stood on just hours before while your parents discussed your union.

…

Your parents.

You shouted for them, rushing straight for the ruins of your home. Large masses of char littered the streets, marking the resting places of other houses just like yours. Your eyes darted about in a frenzy, making eye contact with the mourning Uchiha, who littered the dirt streets for any confirmation that your parents had made it.

“Where are my parents?” You cried to people who averted their gazes. One woman covered her child’s ears, holding him close to her chest. “Have you seen my parents? Please! Someone! Did they make it? Will you not answer me?”

But no one answered you.

There was just weeping.

You didn’t see their faces or those of your family.

You raced toward the rubble, rifling through the mess with tears blurring your vision. You were howling something, letting words spill and tumble from your lips with the same liquidity as the water pouring from your face. Your fingers began to sting. Debris cut your skin, forming abrasions that filled with soot and dirt as you clawed at what used to be your home.

A muscular arm looped under your torso. You kicked your legs as you continued to wail, pounding your fists at the back of red armor. You could only watch as you were slowly carried away from the wreckage of your home, the reminisce of other ruined buildings gathering into your blurry view with every step.

You went limp about halfway down the road, hanging upside down with your cheek smushed against a bloody backplate. You cried, the compilation of mucus stuck in your nose, causing your sinuses to burn. You coughed, fist pounding a last time against armor before you were dropped back to the ground.

Your knees gave out under you, and before you stood Madara.

Tall, hulking, and imposing Madara with a somber expression on his face and a gaping wound on his side. He still held you by the hand, your fingers just barely hooked on his. His feet were stained with blood and caked with dirt, and sitting in the disturbed dirt road sat vials of herbs and a collection of your supplies from the apothecary.

Only then did you notice what he was surveying behind you, letting your hand drop from his.

Bodies of the injured were splayed out on salvaged blankets in the middle of the street. The able-bodied scurried around with what little medical supplies could be salvaged from the remains of your village, tending to warriors, women, children, and elders alike. Your head snapped back toward Madara.

“You must make medicine,” Madara said in a voice barely above a whisper, although it was by no means gentle. He held a gruffness in his voice. Frustration laced his tone. You heaved yourself up, something about being on the ground making you feel more vulnerable than you already felt in your confusion.

“Madara, I—”

“What?” Madara snapped, jerking forward at you. You recoiled, lips closing instantly. “What now, woman? Can you not see the crisis laid out in front of you? You have received exactly what you wanted and yet remain stubborn even when a man is giving you direct instructions.” You were still dazed.

“Where is Makihara?”

It wasn’t hard for Madara to wrestle you back to the ground. Your head slammed against the dirt, the vials of herbs and medicine sideways in your vision. Madara’s lips touched your ear as he spoke venom directly into your skull. His words sent a submissive chill directly into your heart.

“For the sake of the gods, make the goddam medicine and cease your difficulty. Your clan head bids it.” He released your head, which was engulfed in his wide-handed grip. You stared dizzily at his back as he walked away, his form wavering in your vision.

“Clan… head?”

***

Madara was officially deemed the head of the Uchiha clan later that night, bare except for his loin cloth as his body was painted with sacred symbols. He sat like a king on the ruins of the Uchiha village, looking pensive and severe.

The ceremony was intimate, traditional, and without frills.

Somber.

What was left of the village wasn’t made to attend, but most showed their faces in the torchlight, gazing upon their new leader as Madara was adorned with red and white paint. The population of Uchiha gathered around him, squishing together to watch the decoration of their new leader.

Madara sat amongst the ruins of what used to be your colony, looking solemn in the warm glow of the flames around him. He stared ahead. A surviving elder smeared two lines of red paint under Madara’s eyes with shaky fingers. Bandages covered the elder’s eye, wrapping all the way around his head. Another elder brushed his frail hands over Madara’s cheeks with white before anointing his forehead with his thumb.

You had made that paint. You admired it from the back of the crowd.

A few children had been sent to gather pigmented clay while you exhausted the rest of your herbal supply on medicinal remedies. Even with what you made stretch, you barely had enough to treat all the wounded. Burying the dead had taken all day.

Madara stood in front of all the Uchiha, bare-chested and painted in holy symbols as the clan revered him. He barked, the deep, powerful sound resounding from his chest. His colored abs flexed with the call, and the Uchiha chanted back, filling the surrounding forest with spirited howling.

He stood as the new leader of the Uchiha clan, yet the colors that adorned him were yours, as were the herbs that decorated his wound.

***

Your parents were dead.

It was a fact that you recalled often during the mindless time you spent crushing herbs, beseeching the weight of it to sink in. But instead, you were met with numbness, even as the mourners around you grieved their lost loved ones.

You sat under your makeshift canopy on a rug of simple woven threads. The three sides of your new apothecary were draped with fabric, acting as a buffer to the light night breeze. And there you thought, pulverizing medicine with your pestle to replenish your depleted medicinal supply. As the clan’s only apothecary, you could no longer collect herbs. In a strike of irony, this in turn meant that you were too important and no longer allowed to leave the Uchiha’s new territory.

You hadn’t noticed Madara’s presence. Only when the torchlight from outside no longer filtered into your tent did you think to even blink. He stood over you, harsh shadows cast across his face from the lone lamp that lit up your workspace. Madara’s colors had faded from his skin, but the stain from the dye remained as the faintest of hues.

You could just barely see the holy symbols.

“Does the new location please you?”

You stopped, the moment of distraction allowing the ache in your hands to set in. You nearly dropped your pestle, recoiling slightly as the tension froze your fingers. You had been working since daybreak.

“I cannot say I have been able to see much of it, Madara.”

“Come, then.”

To your surprise, Madara extended his hand to you. You looked upon him with exhaustion, almost to ask if he genuinely meant what he spoke. He waited patiently for you to place your hand in his before whisking you into the surrounding woods.

***

The Uchiha had retreated farther inland, upstream to the higher ground by the mountains. The trees were large in these parts, far larger than you were used to. They extended twice the height compared to the ones in your previous territory, towering large fans of leaves up toward the starry night sky. Even the vast constellations appeared brighter in these new parts.

Madara walked a step or two in front as you strolled across the rocky terrain. You panted as you struggled up a steep incline. Madara hadn’t bothered to help you, instead moving along onto the level above. Small stones that littered the surface of the earth slid under your sandals.

“I am—” you huffed —“I am not as agile as I used to be.”

Madara laughed somewhere above.

“You are in your prime. What is this talk of agility?”

You pulled yourself up onto the dirt with the help of an exposed root. You fanned yourself, wiping the sweat off your brow as Madara chuckled somewhere in front of you.

“I meant that I no longer climb trees every day, Madara. Perhaps that is something you do, oh great clan head, but not I.”

You turned to stand, suddenly struck by the view before you. Madara stood just ahead, holding up a branch with his forearm to expose the landscape. You hurried over, framing yourself in the window of leaves that Madara created. From up so high, you could see how the trees covered the land for miles, bisected by one of the Land of Fire’s many rivers in the distance.

“Are you able to say if the new land pleases you?” You caught Madara’s eye for a split second, quickly averting your gaze at the sight of his sentimental expression, your aloneness suddenly growing palpable. You nodded.

“Moving the clan here was clever. Having the high ground and access to fresh water will only serve to be prosperous.” You offered him a gentle smile and a nod, glancing back at the scenery. “I know you will make a great clan head, Madara.”

“We will see about that,” Madara admitted in a rare moment of self-doubt. The confession made your forehead crinkle instantly. You cocked your head, taken aback. Madara sighed, almost as if reading your thoughts before you spoke them. “The elders— the remaining elders— believe that I am still quite young to be taking up the mantle. They still hold power when it comes to making decisions on behalf of the clan. At least, until they deem I have grown into my title as clan head.”

“Why make you leader at all if they are going to make such fuss?” you scoffed, knowing very well the answer.

You sat down at the cliff's edge, watching the moon in the distance, and Madara came to sit next to you. He shifted, having more difficulty getting situated than you. The branch he had been holding up came down to smack him on the back of the head.

“I have had similar thoughts.” Madara looked off with a troubled frown. “I worry for the future of the Uchiha. Our numbers dwindle with every battle. And with this last raid, the women will be forced to join the militia.”

“Is this true?” you nearly exclaimed. You withdrew into yourself, brushing a finger across your bottom lip. The news rattled around in your ribcage. “How unorthodox!”

Madara sneered, and it hardly took his admission of “I am against such things” for you

to understand his stance on the matter. You let him grumble to himself, once again lost in a daze, as you took some of the dry dirt below between your fingers.

“Madara,” you called softly, and he perked up with a hum. Between the chaos of the last few days, you were hardly allowed to give anything proper thought. Of all the terrible things to sink in, you only had one worry on your mind. “Do you believe I might be sent to fight the Senju?”

You stared into Madara’s eyes. Tobirama’s fearsome expression flashed across your mind as you recalled his promises to take your life. They made you shiver.

“I would think not, given that you are acting as the lone apothecary of the Uchiha,” Madara answered, his voice deep and soft. “Besides, I forbid it.”

You didn’t know what to say as you let the bit of relief Madara’s words brought you to wash over your thoughts. Whether you intended it or not, you had made yourself invaluable to your clan. They weren’t about to put you on the front lines anytime soon.

Madara spoke your name.

“Do you like it?” he asked. You weren’t paying attention again. You blinked to yourself, his deep voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Do I like what?”

“The new land, does it please you?”

“It is… not home,” you admitted. “But the landscape does please me, yes. I am certain it will be home soon enough.” Madara closed the space between you before gingerly placing two fingers under your chin. He turned your face toward him.

“I am clan head now.”

“Yes, Madara, I am aware.” You tried to subtly turn your chin away, but he held firm, boring into you with vigilant eyes. Nocturnal insects chattered in the forest behind you.

“No other bachelor in the Uchiha can provide better than I.” You had no other choice than to meet his dark gaze. He spoke to you earnestly. “Will you not reconsider marrying me?” A frown tugged at his lips. Worry swirled on his face.

“We are far too young, Madara.” You took his hand, gently removing it from your skin. You folded in on yourself, backing away from the edge as you bashfully gripped the fronts of your robes to dry your sweaty hands. Madara pivoted, leaning back to keep you in his sights, the moon’s slow, enshrining him in a silver silhouette. You curled into the earth. “Besides… too much has happened for us to think about such things.”

You could feel it: the urge to fight you on the tip of Madara’s tongue. Indeed, other Uchiha have married at your age and younger. Sometimes, young girls would be considered ready for marriage after their first menstrual cycle. But to your surprise, he didn’t fight you at all. Instead, he came to sit next to you.

Madara could’ve fought you on several things. He hadn’t yet forgotten the mystery beau he was convinced was keeping your affections from him, nor was he thrilled that you had been named as the clan’s sole apothecary through a simple process of elimination.

You hadn’t forgotten his attempts to strongarm you into marriage or the terrifying outburst that caused you to run away. Although, with your parents gone, you were placed supremely in charge of your fate. Try as he must, not even Madara could force you into marriage.

But when it came down to it, with your family dead and your lover disgusted by your bloodline, you were left again with Madara. That had been how it always was. Having lost so much during the clan conflict, you were always left with each other, weren’t you?

As you began to weep, Madara scooted backward to be with you. You leaned against him, placing your head on his shoulder as you continued to cry, holding his arm to bury your face into the sleeve of his robes—dark, round spots soaked into the fabric.

Madara held you in the dimness as the surrounding clearing filled with your sobs. It had been the first time you were allowed to cry. The first time you truly had to confront the regret that haunted you from the few days prior. For his capriciousness and overall little patience for sentiment, Madara nurtured your vulnerability.

His fingers trailed lightly over your hair, rounding up stray strands behind your ear. He pressed his temple against the top of your head, caressing down your jaw to clear away the tears that slid down your cheeks with his thumb. Madara lifted your face, his second hand cupping the other side of your face as he continued to swipe away the wetness from your face.

You held his wrists in your ginger grip, as he laid a tender kiss on your forehead. He gazed into your teary eyes in the moonlight, casting away another stream of tears as he offered a gentle kiss to your right cheek, and then your left.

His nose nudged against yours, staring into your glassy eyes. You let them flutter shut, causing more droplets to splash against your face. Madara placed his lips on yours, holding the sides of your face as he kissed you with earnest.

You kissed him back for a moment, only for a moment. The shape of his face was different than Tobirama in a way you couldn’t quite place your finger on. He had rounder cheeks. A longer bridge to his nose. Madara’s hair draped over his shoulders to tickle your skin.

You pulled away, just the slightest distance between your face and Madara’s before he leaned in again. You pushed against his chest, but his movements this time were more forceful. He held you firmly in his grip, his fingers pinching against your cheeks as he lowered himself on top of you, pinning you against the earth and his larger body.

Your eyes went wide, the entirety of your body going frozen as Madara moved against yours, his once gentle motions now a gnashing of lips and teeth that made you press your head into the dirt. You tried to gasp his name in protest, but your words were muffled. His forearm rested to the right of your head, his breath hot against your skin as he smored your airways. His fingers tugged awkwardly at your hair, causing you to wince as he pulled the strands. You pushed on his chest again, kicking your legs under him, but Madara lowered more of his weight on top of you.

A line of saliva connected the two of you when he finally ceased his assault on your lips. He gazed upon you with lidded eyes before he continued, tucking his head in the crook of your neck. You screamed as he sunk his teeth into your flesh, tears pouring from your wide eyes as you stared up at the pitch black night sky. Madara’s hand swiftly came over your mouth, to muffle the shrieks that tore from your throat.

You flailed violently, limbs lashing in adrenaline-fueled terror to no avail as Madara kept you pinned to the earth with his larger, heavier frame. And then you felt a hand dip into your robes, tugged the top material from your shoulders to grope at your chest. You cried harder, squealing like a pig at the slaughter as you finally managed to squirm an arm free.

You thrashed it around in a flurry of scratches and strikes. Your hand snagged on Madara’s face as you tried to scoot out from underneath him, causing him to shoot backward. Blood dripped from his nose, forming a nasty pool of red in tandem with the jagged gash that sliced diagonally across his upper lip.

He looked at you in confusion and anger; blood streaked across his fingers. You scrambled to your feet, darting down the mountain and back to the new colony.

You would never speak of that night again.

Madara dropped all speak of marriage.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Lots of fun author’s notes: I hated the pacing of this fic. It used to have really low notes in the early days so I think I got a little sloppy with it, and now it’s exploded out of nowhere! I hope this “retcon” fixes some of the plotholes!

I would like to think the teen years were made purposefully vague and dreamy so that the transition to the dark content is more impactful. Yes, yes we’ll say that!

I don’t always imagine what Reader looks like in my stories (I usually don’t) but this one I do! I usually picture Lupita Nyong'o. Not sure if that adds or takes away for any of you. Who I picture ultimately doesn’t matter

I’d also like to think the whole scene where Tobirama scares Reader off is like any movie where a protagonist has to scare off a loyal dog. Like, “Go on, boy! Git! You’re not welcome here! Git!” while like throwing rocks or something.

Also a reminder that I am not a smut author, so please withhold any thirst comments or requests. Thank you.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

@gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake

#Tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #tobirama #Tobirama Senju #naruto x reader #naruto x you #naruto fanfic #Senju Tobirama #naruto #Hashirama Senju #x you #x reader #reader insert #x fem!reader #fem reader #foul creature #tw sex assault

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elliebyrrdwrites · 2 months

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Dramione Drabble 31

DISCLAIMER: It’s come to my attention that Ron Bashing is very upsetting to some readers. So , please do note that this post uses the Ron Weasley tag because he is a significant character in this particular story, also this is his POV . HOWEVER, please mind that this also includes a Ron bashing tag. If you are offended by Ron bashing, don’t bother.

I had to write this one, the inspiration hit and I’ll be in LA all day tomorrow visiting my sister. So here we go! Also, I’m adding to the next chapter on ao3, so it will be a minute before I post it.

Ron had mixed feelings about working the night shift on the beat. Before they were ordered to have a partner with them at all times, he’d been able to pop into Hermione’s or even Parvati’s while on patrol. Some nights, he was able to visit both witches.

He wasn’t proud of what he had done to Hermione. Parvati had been aware, from the beginning, that he had no intention of leaving Hermione. She was his til the end. And he was hers.

The thing with Parvati wasn’t serious and she had been okay with that. It was just a way to get that little bit extra he wasn’t getting with Hermione. He had assumed that she was content, if not happy, with their love life. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her that he needed more.

But, what if she had been severely disappointed. Maybe that was why she never complimented him, never praised him, never rolled off of him in a state of pure bliss.

With Hermione, it was always straight to work. She’d have to make tea, or clean her kitchen, or catch up on paperwork.

What if she wasn’t satisfied and that was why she kept busy after? What if she was seeking that little extra bit that Ron couldn’t give her from someone else.

What if that someone was Malfoy? He seemed to sordid type to get off on hitting his women or choking them. Hermione was not that kind of girl. She never asked Ron for anything naughty.

But Ron watched her, wondering. She avoided eye contact with him whenever they passed by one another. Ron would fantasize about grabbing her hand, pulling her into an office. Anyone’s office, it didn’t matter. Whichever one was nearby. And he’d go down on her and make her cry and shout out his name. She’d thank him for being so good to her, for making her cum so hard. Ask him to take her back. You know, shit like that. Something fantastical. Something erotic.

Ron would stop at the end of the hall and watch her.

With Malfoy, she’d look right into his creepy pale eyes and smile. She’d look at his bruised face, the dried blood on his lip that never seemed to go away and her eyes would fucking light up.

Hermione would look right into his face and see something in or past all of those sneers and scowls. She was blind to the monster lurking within.

Even worse now, she resembles him. The scowls and the sneers have migrated and taken residence on her beautiful round features, her eyes just as cold and pale as Malfoys.

She was scary, now. Other Aurora avoided her gestate, shivered when they thought she wasn’t looking. Whispered about her behind her back.

And now her and Harry were both looking at Ron like he was the monster. Ron was only human, and humans were animals. Fucking was just a natural need. It delivered the endorphins that were desperately needed after the war, after losing his brother.

Everyone did it. Every being did it. The birds and the bees and all that shit. It’s just that when Ron got off, he needed to be told what a good, sweet boy he was. That he was a hero., a savior. Someone worthy.

But sometimes, once upon a time, Hermione would look at him like he was. He missed it. Fuck, he missed her. It’s a terrible thing. That, even though Ron had fucked up and he still had Parvati, he didn’t want to give up Hermione. He loved her body as much as any others, probably more. No man enjoyed accepting the idea that he would no longer have it to himself. Maybe never again.

And Ron certainly didn’t accept the fact that Malfoy might be the new proud owner of that particular one.

“Hey, Weasley.”

Oh, right. The other reason he hated these shifts. Not only could he not drop by Hermione’s, he was permanently stuck with Anthony Goldstein. He wasn’t a terrible bloke. But he was shifty, a bit off. His movements were jerky, timid. He looked like somebody who didn’t belong on the force. He looked like someone who was thrown into it, forced to become an Auror and had never accepted that fact.

Ron pinched his lips together, and pulled his eyes from the corner building where Hermione lived. Her windows were dark. She probably wasn’t home.

He nodded to Goldstein in acknowledgment.

“Isn’t this the apothecary where Hermione and Malfoy got into that altercation?”

Goldstein was staring into window of the shop. The lights were dim, as if to still keep the potions advertised on display in the front window. Or perhaps the witch who ran the place was still inside, cleaning up.

Ron stepped up beside him. The wizard flinched and Ron couldn’t help the roll of his eyes. “Yeah,” He sighed. “That’s the one.”

Goldstein looked up at and stared. Ron could feel his eyes assessing him. “You and Malfoy don’t get along, do you?”

Ron dug his hands into his pockets, thumbing the wand nestled inside and laughed. One short, derisive bark. “What makes you think that, Goldstein?” He frowned and shook his head, a little ashamed at the acidic tone of his voice. “Look, let’s just say that the day where every day of my life stops revolving around Malfoy, will be the best day of my life.”

Anthony was still staring at him. Ron was staring at the window, at the dim light of the back room, a shadow moving. Through his peripheral, Goldstein was nodding slowly. He might have been grinning, but that wouldn’t make any sense. Goldstein hated conflict, he was a bit of a coward

But then Goldstein moved for the door. “We should go in.”

Ron shook his head. “Nah, she’s closing up. Besides it wasn’t our crime scene.”

“I heard she hadsa love potion. It might help mend whatever went sour between you and Hermione.”

“No thanks, mate.” Ron chuckled nervously. “I’ve had one too many experiences with love potions.”

“But, this isn’t like Amortentia. This one helps to…alter the way you think.” Goldstein voice was less flinchy and more persuasive than he had ever heard him. It was unsettling.

“That’s Barmy.”

“The witch who brews it says it allows you to connect with your lover on some kind of mental or spiritual level.”

“I’m not slipping ‘Mione anything, Goldstein.”

“You wouldn’t have to.” He opened the door and said, as he stepped inside. “You take the potion. All you need is a strand of her hair to add to it.”

And then Goldstein was disappearing into the shop and into the dark shadows of the potion filled shelves. “What the — Goldstein!” Had the wizard lost his mind?

Stepping into the Apothecary sent a shudder down Ron’s spine. The hairs on his arms stood. Something was definitely off about this. But the witch didn’t seem to notice or care about the jingle of the bell on her door, and Goldstein was lost somewhere in the vast array of potions. Some of them glittered, some were glowing in the dark. Some were as dark as the sky outside.

None of them seemed ordinary. Most of them, Ron didn’t recognize.

But he crept along the shelving, the habit of staying quiet and undetected hard to break. He passed shelves labeled things like Elixirs for Life. Others with the words, Poisons to live by. But when Ron reached the shelf that was labeled, Love, Sex and other maladies, he knew he was in the middle of something shady.

Of course, none of that helped him to prepare for the figure that leapt out in front of him, or for the wand that was pointed directly at his temple before the voice whispered the incantation that would turn his brain into dough, softening into something that could be kneaded and molded into surrendering. Ron’s entire body locked up, his mind went quiet.

Nothing was the same. Nothing was known. His name, his desires, his job.

No, for Ron, everything had changed the second that voice had uttered the word to end it all, “Imperio.”

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sixhours · 6 months

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One Day at a Time - Chapter 3 - Embryo

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Days become weeks without word from Charlie. Every time he sees her, she gives him a little nod. Nothing overt, just enough to send a message.

We’re still here.

After two weeks, he’d found an old pocket calendar from 2001 and put it by his bed, and he marks off each day that passes with a big X. He’s done the math, and there’s a date in mid-December circled in red pen.

He can’t sleep for shit under the best of circumstances, but lately it’s impossible. He’s given up trying, choosing instead to crash on the couch with a movie playing on a loop in the background until a fitful sleep takes him.

He’s parked like this on the couch one night when the knock surprises him out of a half-doze. He fumbles for the remote and pauses the movie before answering the door.

It’s Charlie.

“I’m bleeding,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

His stomach sinks.

He reaches out without thinking, hands on her shoulders; she’s shivering. He pulls her forward into the warmth of the little house, closing the door behind her.

“Midwife says it could be normal or it could be a miscarriage,” she says flatly. “No way to tell yet.”

He seethes. He remembers Maria and Tommy telling him about the Jackson midwife; she was competent, but her bedside manner was shit.

“Does it…feel like…” He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“I don’t know, I’ve never made it this far. I’m not cramping. It’s not a lot of blood. I just…you wanted me to tell you, so I’m telling you.”

He nods, feeling stupid and helpless and hating it.

“Uh…sit,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “Want tea? It’s herbal. No caffeine.”

She nods warily. “Sure…I guess.”

He sets the water to boil, gets out two mugs, pulls the little canister of tea from the shelf, and fills the infuser with dried peppermint leaves. He can’t stand the stuff, but Ellie won’t drink coffee like a normal person, so they always have some in the house.

He glances at Charlie from over his shoulder as he waits for the water to boil. She’s on the couch, arms wrapped around herself as if she could hold back the thing she fears by force of will.

“You take milk or anythin’?”

“Just sugar, if you have it.”

He does. The kettle whistles and he pours the steaming water over the leaves.

She takes the tea with a small, hollow smile and sips at it. He takes a seat in the armchair next to her.

“Is there anything we can do?”

She shakes her head. “Midwife said to check in tomorrow morning. If it gets worse before then, I’ll go to the clinic.”

“Okay,” he says. “I can…wait with you.”

She nods, takes another sip, and sinks back into the couch. Waiting.

The silence presses in around them. It’s like torture, and Joel wracks his tired brain for something, anything to say. She saves him the trouble, blinking with interest at the television screen.

“Is this Gunz Blazin’ 2 ?”

“Uh…yeah…”

“I haven’t seen it since I was a kid,” she says, smiling a little. “My dad and I used to watch these movies all the time. They’re awful.”

He swallows hard, thinking of Sarah.

She looks at him and picks up the remote. “Mind if I…?”

“Yeah, yeah…sure.”

She hits Play and sits back, curling her legs under her and clutching the tea in her hands.

The credits roll a couple of hours later. Charlie has nestled into the couch with a blanket over her lap, empty mug resting on the coffee table.

“S’it as bad as you remember?” Joel rasps.

“Yes. Maybe worse. But in a good way,” she smiles a little. “Nostalgic, I guess.”

He nods. “How’re you, uh, feelin’?”

“Fine,” she says automatically, then laughs. “Not fine, actually. I’m exhausted and I’m sick all the time and my boobs are so fucking sore I could—“

She stops. “Shit, I’m sorry. That’s more than you needed to know. My husband used to say I was born without a filter.”

“S’alright,” he murmurs, his face burning. “You’re, uh, married?”

“Was…or what passed for marriage in the QZ, I guess. We were cordyceps orphans…grew up together after the outbreak, protected each other…kept each other out of trouble. We had 17 years together before…before our luck ran out.”

“So he, uh…you and he…wanted kids?”

“Yeah,” she snorts. “Sounds pretty stupid, right? Bringing a baby into a quarantine zone?”

He bites his lip and doesn’t say anything. He knew people still brought children into this broken world, but he’d never considered it. His interest in that life had stopped when Sarah’s heart stopped beating.

“I miscarried three times,” she murmurs. “We might have kept trying if we’d made it to Jackson together…I don’t know.”

“What happened to him?”

She shrugs. “We ran into trouble on the way here. He was bit. I…took care of it. We always said that was the deal, that we wouldn’t let each other turn. He…he didn’t even flinch when I pulled the trigger.”

She’s looking down at her stomach now, tracing her fingers over the ridges in her shirt, lost in thought.

“I wasn’t looking for this any more than you were,” she says softly. “But I want it anyway…I–I can’t help it. Is that foolish?”

Her eyes bore into his then, not sad now, almost…angry. Challenging him to deny her this.

Joel doesn’t know how to answer, but he huffs a soft, “No.”

She rubs her palm slowly across her lower belly. “This is the longest I’ve ever made it. I didn’t have morning sickness or the…other symptoms before, so I thought…maybe…maybe this time…”

“It’s not over ‘til it’s over,” he says softly.

He wants to take her hand. Instead, he gathers their mugs and takes them to the sink.

“Oh…it’s late,” she says faintly. “I should go.”

He frowns. “You shouldn’t be alone. You can stay here tonight.”

“Oh, no—”

He shakes his head, cutting off her protest. “If somethin’ goes wrong or if you get…sick…someone should be with you. I could come to your place if that’s–or call a friend if you don’t want, uh, me–”

“It’s not that, Joel, but I’ve been through this before–”

“By yourself?”

She swallows hard and ducks her head. “No.”

“Then stay,” he says. “Just for the night. I can put you up in–”

He falters, thinking of Ellie’s old room, still decorated in ugly pink stripes. Meant for a teenager but too close to a nursery.

“You can stay in my room,” he says quickly. “I’ll take the couch. Usually end up down here anyway.”

“I couldn’t–”

“It’s fine,” he waves her off. “Can’t sleep for shit no matter where I land. C’mon.”

He makes for the stairs before she can argue, and breathes a sigh of relief when she follows. He pauses outside the door to his bedroom.

“Just, uh…wait here. Gimme a minute.”

He ducks into the room, picking up clothes and tossing them into the hamper. He strips the bed and digs wrinkled but clean sheets out of the linen closet. After a pause, he picks up the calendar and the red pen from the nightstand and stuffs them into his pocket.

“Should be all good. The bathroom’s, uh, right through there,” he gestures. “All yours. There’s, uh, pain medicine if you need it.”

“Thanks…”

“I’ll be downstairs,” he says. “If you need anything, if anything, uh, happens…just come get me. Or yell.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it,” he says.

“I will, Joel,” she murmurs. “Thanks.”

“G’night then.”

He goes back to his usual spot on the couch and lies down, staring at the little cracks in the living room ceiling. He won’t be able to sleep now. He thinks about the raw need in her voice as her fingers traced her stomach, the hitch in her breath, maybe this time …

He throws an arm across his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts. A small, grief-blackened part of him hates that he cares. Before Ellie, he could numb the pain with booze and pills and a lucrative career in smuggling. But he’s not that man anymore. It would be so much easier if he were, if he couldn’t feel the little flicker of hope in his chest.

The calendar and pen dig into his hip, and he pulls them out of his pocket. It’s well after midnight, so without thinking, he uncaps the pen and crosses off another day.

He must have fallen asleep. When he opens his eyes, the room is lighter, and Charlie is nudging his shoulder.

He’s upright before he’s fully awake. “What is it? Y’okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says quietly. “I’m going to go. The midwife said she’d see me at 7:00. I need to go home and change.”

“Right, okay. Do you, uh…do you want me to come with–”

“No,” she says quickly. “I haven’t told her…or anyone…about you.”

“Right,” he blinks. “Um. Let me know…okay?”

She nods, holding her arms around her middle like she could protect herself from the worst. Without thinking, he reaches out and touches the back of her hand. She doesn’t pull away.

“Sorry,” he mutters, withdrawing. “I…I hope it works out,” he says lamely.

“Do you?” she asks, with an edge of bitterness in her voice. She’s immediately contrite. “I’m sorry. You’ve been kind, and that was…cruel. Missing my filter again.”

“It’s…fine.”

He wants to tell her he does have hope, despite himself, but she’s already out the door.

Charlie hasn’t been gone for five minutes when there’s a knock.

Shit.

He’s on the schedule for a construction job and he’d promised to meet Tommy early. Now he’s late.

“I’m comin’,” he mutters, wincing at the stiffness in his back. “Hold your goddamned horses.”

“Long night?” Tommy smirks on the other side of the door. “Thought I saw Charlie doin’ the walk of shame–”

“Shut it,” Joel growls, surprising himself at the bite in his voice. “Don’t say another fuckin’ word.”

Tommy’s hands coming up in mock defense. “Whoa, easy. Didn’t know it was like that.”

“It’s not,” Joel snaps.

“Alright,” he says, peering at his older brother curiously. “So…you ready to go?”

“Yeah. Lemme get my stuff.”

He’s distracted all day. The work is simple enough–framing a new barn for the sheep, to replace one that’s been infested by termites beyond repair. It should be easy, but he’s overtired and he can’t seem to make his hands behave. Tommy keeps having to repeat himself, giving Joel curious looks.

“You’re losin’ it, big brother,” he says amiably when Joel brings him a jar of the wrong-size screws for the second time in a row.

It’s mid-afternoon when he brings the hammer down on his middle finger. He watches the whole thing as though in slow motion, knowing exactly what’s going to happen well before he feels the pain, but he’s powerless to stop it.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he hisses, shaking out his injured hand. Purplish red blood is already blooming under the wide, flat nail. He resists the urge to stick the finger in his mouth to soothe the throbbing ache like a child.

“You break it?” Tommy’s looking over his shoulder.

“No,” he growls. “Just a bruise.”

“Yeah, right. Well, you’re done for today,” Tommy says. “Go home. Made good progress, anyway, we’re almost done.”

Joel shoots him a look, but it doesn’t affect his younger brother in the slightest. It never does. So he relents, packing his tools and trudging away, finger throbbing.

He sees her on the walk home.

Charlie is standing with someone just outside the caf. She looks about as tired as he feels, but then she sees him and brightens, the subtlest glimmer as she catches his eye. The look stops him in mid-stride, frozen in the middle of the street.

She gives him a little nod.

Warmth spreads through his chest, a flood of relief, and that blasted hope again.

We’re still here.

#the last of us #fanfic #fic recs #joel miller #the last of us hbo #babyfic #pregnancy

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shesmyboot · 1 year

Text

Baby Severide - Chapter 7: Change of Plans

*Gif belongs to its rightful owner, it is not mine*

Pairing: Kelly Severide x reader

Summary: After only a few days home as new parents, an unexpected timeline adjustment is made

Words: 1641

Warnings: mentions of scars, parental tension

Read on Ao3 here

Notes: This is the second last chapter of Baby Severide! Also, we’re super close to 250 here on tumblr, so if you enjoy my work, consider leaving a reblog or follow! As always, a reblog of any chapter earns a tag in chapter posted after that! Enjoy!

Join my taglist here

Tags: @district447 @mrspeacem1nusone @tringeorge @storiesofsvu @cfdhouse51 @skullcupcakes @whatismypurpos @carnationworld @youraveragedorkysimp @treehouse-mouse @witchywinchester99 @keabbs @marvelcharactersxreader @pensfan5871

——

9:37AM. It was Thursday morning, only a few days after Alexis was born. You rolled over in the king size bed to find Kelly wasn’t beside you. Looking beside you, you could see Alexis wasn’t in her bassinet either.

Still sore from surgery, you slowly put your slippers on and went to the living room to find the rest of your family. Kelly was laying on the couch, shirtless, with Alexis on his chest and a blanket covering them while watching SportsCenter. Reaching down, you rubbed his shoulder to get his attention.

“How long you been here?” You asked, sitting beside him on the couch.

“Less than an hour I think. I didn’t want to wake you, I know you’re exhausted, so I fed her a bottle and we’ve been watching highlights of the Blackhawks game,” he replied with a smile.

“Your mom texted me last night.”

“Oh yeah? What did she say?”

“Said you texted her about the baby. She wants to visit when we’re ready. She can come today if that works for you.”

He nodded.

“Can you grab my phone?” He asked, “the new lieutenant officially starts today and Cruz was gonna text me about who they got.”

You wandered back into the bedroom and found his phone still charging on his nightstand. Looking at the notifications on his screen, there was a text from Boden.

Fixing your eyes on the screen of his phone, Boden had texted “call me.”

“No text from Cruz, just Boden,” you announced.

“What’d he say?”

“Call me.”

“That can’t be good.”

“Probably not. Want me to take Alexis so you can call him?”

Kelly pulled back the blanket and began to laugh. Once you saw what he had done, you started to laugh too.

“You wrapped the baby?” You chuckled, looking at the Moby Wrap you received from your baby shower wrapped around him and Alexis.

“Hands free,” he laughed.

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”

As you wandered to the kitchen, you saw Kelly mute the tv and call Boden, all while Alexis was sleeping on his chest.

A few moments later, you came back to the couch with two coffees in hand. Alexis had started to fuss as Kelly hung up the phone.

“What did Boden want?” You asked, handing him one of the fresh coffees from your hands.

“New lieutenant didn’t show up for work today,” he replied.

“Who did they get in for you?”

“Connor Maxwell, used to be an engine lieutenant before he got his squad certs.”

“Do they know what happened?”

“Boden says the guy overslept, but he doesn’t buy it. They’re gonna let him stay for the shift and cut him loose if it doesn’t go well.”

As Kelly told you about this squad lieutenant, he got a look of desperation in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I’m a little worried about my men.”

“Why, baby?”

“I’ve never been taken a furlough this long in a very long time.”

“Are you scared they’re gonna like this new lieutenant more than you?” You laughed, rubbing his shoulder.

“I just don’t want my company to go to hell while I’m gone,” he chuckled, kissing your forehead.

“How much time did you take off?

“I told Boden 8 weeks.”

“Is there a way you can go back early?”

“I guess I could, but I want to be here for you and our baby.”

Alexis began to fuss, still wrapped with her dad.

“I’ll take her, babe. She’s probably hungry.”

Kelly unwrapped Alexis and handed her to you. You raised your shirt, exposing yourself in order to feed your baby.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine here, if you want to go back early, Kelly,” you told him.

“I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed or like I want to work more than be home with our brand new baby.”

“I’ve got 8 months of leave. You would’ve had to leave me home with Alexis by myself when you’re on shift regardless.”

“I know, I know, I just hoped she’d be a little older first.”

“It’s like 3 days a week max, I’m sure we’ll be okay if you want to go back early,” you smiled, adjusting your head’s position to leaning on his shoulder, “I know you love your job and I know you love us, but we’ll be okay if this is what you want.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, wrapping his arm around you.

“Kelly, would I ever lie to you?”

“I guess I have my answer then.”

“You should call Boden and tell him there’s been a change of plans,” you gestured to his phone on the side table.

He grabbed his phone and you finished feeding Alexis. Kelly put his phone on speaker phone as you burped Alexis.

“Kelly, how’s the father life treating you?” Boden asked him as he picked up. You could hear his smile through the phone.

“Ah, Chief it couldn’t be better,” Kelly grinned, “do you have a minute?”

“Sure, what’s on your mind?”

“I was thinking about coming back to work a little earlier than what I originally planned.”

“When were you thinking?”

“Next shift, if you’ll let me.”

“Can’t stay away too long, huh?”

“What can I say? It’s in my blood,” Kelly chuckled.

“Actually though Kelly, is your wife okay with this? You sure you don’t want to take some time with your baby?”

“We’ve talked it over, it was kinda her idea actually.”

“I know he’s missing it, I’ll be okay if he goes back,” you piped up.

“Well, I still haven’t filled your spot for next shift. You’re welcome to it if you want it.”

“Thanks, Chief. I’ll be there.”

Kelly hung up the phone and turned to look at you.

“You’re really sure?” He asked, leaning in to give you a kiss.

“Yes, Kelly, I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll even bring her over to the firehouse when you’re on shift,” you replied, “you don’t have to be worried.”

“I love you, thank you for being everything I wanted in life.”

You leaned over and hugged him with one arm, Alexis dozing in the other.

“Can you take her so I can have a quick shower? I still feel like hospital.”

“Of course baby, do what you need.”

You handed over Alexis to her father and just the sight of the two of them together melted your heart.

“Oh babe, question for you,” Kelly asked as you were headed to grab your house coat, “do we have more bottles? Or should I clean a couple for later?”

“Uh,” you were wracking your brain, trying to figure out where your nesting brain put them, “I think they’re in the drawer by the fridge, but honestly I don’t remember.”

Changing out of your clothes and into your bathrobe, you couldn’t help but notice the horizontal scar on your stomach. It was still a little painful when your hand brushed it, but the pain didn’t matter because you had your baby. The perfect baby, with the perfect husband. You didn’t need anything else.

Turning on the water and getting in the shower, Kelly knocked on the bathroom door.

“I hate to interrupt you,” he chuckled, “but there’s someone here who you’re going to want to see.”

“Can it wait until after my shower? I’ll be quick, I promise. Ask if they can wait?” You asked, shampoo already lathered in your hair.

“Yeah, we’ll be out here.”

Kelly closed the door behind him and the thought of who could be here for you raced through your mind as you quickly finished your shower. After finishing up and drying off, you threw your hair up in a messy bun and put on your sweats to go see your visitor.

“Babe, I made some breakfast for the four of us,” Kelly told you, setting the table.

“Who’s here? And where’s Alexis?” You asked.

“Hi, sweetie,” a familiar voice beamed.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” You asked.

“I came to apologize,” she said, “I’m so sorry for what I said.”

Without saying a word, you walked over to your mom and gave her the tightest hug of your life. A couple tears filled your eyes.

“You want to meet your granddaughter?” You asked, motioning to Kelly to remove Alexis from the wrap.

“Yeah, I’d love you,” she smiled.

Handing over your daughter to your own mother was such a special experience for both of you.

“Kelly can you take a picture?” You asked.

“Oh, honey, I just got off a plane, I look awful.”

“Mom, you look great. I want to remember this.”

Kelly grabbed his phone from the counter and took a picture of the three of you together.

“I also came for another reason,” she admitted, sitting down at the table, “Kelly and I were talking while you were finishing your shower. He told me he’s going back to work earlier than expected. I already called back home and I’ve made arrangements to stay with you for a week or two.”

“Mom, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did, my daughter had my first granddaughter. I need to be here with you.”

“I’ll be fine on my own while Kelly is on shift, you don’t need to help me.”

“Well, then I’ll explore Chicago. I’ve never had the chance to do some sightseeing here.”

You nodded and brought Alexis’ motorized baby swing closer to the table.

“Set her in the swing while we eat, you can hold her after,” you offered.

Your mom set Alexis in the swing and it bangan to slowly swing side to side.

“So Kelly, when are you back to work?” your mom asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said, grabbing some more bacon from the counter.

“That’s quick,” she replied.

“Yeah, only missed two shifts, but I know my girls will be okay for 24 hours without me.”

#kelly severide imagine #kelly severide fic #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide #chicago fire fic #chicago fire #chicago fire x reader #one Chicago #one chicago fic #Baby Severide fic #kelly severide x you

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inairbinad · 9 months

Text

you take me the way I am

Steddie | Explicit | 7.6k | Read on AO3

Written for @corrodedbisexual for the STuad Server Gift Exchange!! I hope you enjoy it friend 🥰 tags: domestic fluff, homoerotic wound care, cuddling for warmth, nerdily named cats, Good Boy Eddie, which probably warrants a Soft Dom Steve too, mild praise kink, hand kink, unprotected sex

Summary: Eddie tries his hand at skiing to try and impress Steve. It goes about as well as one would expect, and Steve’s got to take care of him (and keep him warm) in the aftermath.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee roused Eddie from a deep, sound sleep. Before he even opened his eyes, he felt the warmth of one furry cat curled up against his hip (probably Crowley), and heard the other meowing for breakfast in the next room (definitely Aziraphale). Peeking out his bedroom window, he found a gray, rainy day brewing outside, as the wind whipped whatever was left of the bare trees’ fallen leaves through the air. The weather was finally changing to something that resembled winter.

Once upon a time, Eddie would have pulled a pillow over his head and rolled over, unwilling to wake up at a civilized hour—especially on cold days when he didn’t have to work.

But now he had Steve to look forward to in the mornings. So Eddie all but leapt out of bed, spared a scratch for the still sleeping Crowley, and padded out to the kitchen.

“G’morning, sweet cheeks,” Eddie greeted his boyfriend around a yawn. He thought it was a particularly fitting moniker, considering the way Steve’s pajama bottoms hugged his ass. Steve smiled to himself at the pet name and flipped the omelet he was making before replying.

“Morning, beautiful,” he said, his eyes so earnest and full of affection that it made Eddie’s heart tumble around in his chest like it’d been knocked loose. The only thing that kept him grounded was Aziraphale bonking into his shin to say hello before returning to his food dish. “You sleep well?”

“Like a log,” Eddie admitted before wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist from behind. He closed his eyes as he notched his chin into the dip of Steve’s shoulder and breathed deep. Eddie thought he could probably slip back into a peaceful sleep just like this. “You?”

“Same,” Steve hummed, then nodded towards the cat. “Only reason I got up was to feed everyone.”

“You’re good that way, babe,” Eddie smiled and pressed a kiss behind Steve’s ear. “We’d all starve without you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grumbled good-naturedly. “Coffee’s ready. Go sit and I’ll bring your plate.”

Eddie did as he was told, pausing only long enough to grab a mug and the sugar bowl on his way to the kitchen table. He sat back and watched Steve work on plating up their eggs and toast, content as ever. Just as Steve put their food down, though, his phone rang.

Steve sighed as he checked the caller ID, then gave Eddie an apologetic look before leaning back against the counter.

“Hey, mom,” he answered the phone in his cheery, talking-to-family-voice. Eddie gave him a sympathetic smile before taking a giant bite of his breakfast and groaning obnoxiously loudly at how good it was. Steve laughed and flipped him off, probably without missing a word of whatever his mom was saying.

“Oh that’s nice,” Steve said half-heartedly. Eddie figured “nice” had to be code for “boring as shit” once Steve started examining his cuticles as he listened. Eddie knew he wouldn’t eat while he was on the phone with his mother of all people—that was a big faux pas in Harrington Land.

“Well we were supposed to go see Eddie’s uncle—uh huh. Oh really?” Steve’s voice kicked up into a surprised register that instantly set alarm bells off for Eddie. All of a sudden, the kitchen smelled of in-laws meddling with each other.

“What—” Eddie half-whispered, but Steve was already waving a hand at him to shush.

“So we’re all spending Christmas together,” Steve said, recapping for Eddie’s benefit. “And Wayne agreed to come along so no one gets left out?”

Eddie heard a somewhat exasperated yet amused, “Yes, Stephen,” through the phone. He stopped listening so he could focus on wondering why the hell Wayne wouldn’t run something like this by him before agreeing to it, though.

Unless he just wanted to be a smartass, which was as likely an explanation as any.

Before he realized it, Steve was off the phone and sitting beside him at the table.

“Looks like there’s no getting out of Christmas with my parents now. Apparently Wayne happily agreed to come along,” Steve sighed. The look on his face showed that he knew all too well exactly how Eddie was already working himself up into a panic.

It wasn’t that Eddie and Steve’s parents didn’t get along, exactly. The Harringtons were always perfectly polite to him, and at times he even felt like they were bonding over the years. But he still always felt mildly uncomfortable in his skin around them, like he had something to prove just by virtue of the fact that he had tattoos and grew up in a trailer park.

If Mrs. Harrington was willing to head them off at the pass and invite Wayne first, though, maybe he was overthinking things.

“It’ll be fine, Stevie.” Eddie knew he sounded like he was still trying to convince himself. “Hell, your dad and Wayne will probably be best friends once they start talking about baseball.”

It was a mildly terrifying thought, but Eddie kept that to himself.

“It will be fine,” Steve agreed before sipping his coffee. There was still a line of worry burrowing its way in between his eyebrows, though.

“Why do you look worried, then?” Eddie prodded.

“Well,” Steve hedged, then placed his mug down before speaking gravely. “They want to go skiing for Christmas.”

“And…” Eddie fumbled around for why that might be such a bad thing. “You’re more of a snowboarding kind of guy?”

“No,” Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s more that I can already tell you’re worried about impressing them somehow. At a ski resort. When you’ve never skied in your life.”

It took Eddie a minute to catch up with what Steve was implying, but once he did, he snorted.

“You think I’m gonna bust my ass trying to impress your parents by strapping death blades to my feet?” Eddie asked in his best incredulous voice, even though the thought had absolutely already crossed his mind. It was less about impressing Steve’s parents , though, and more about trying it out as a nice gesture for Steve . He felt like Steve always got caught in the middle of the somewhat chilly relationship Eddie had with his family.

“I think that’s exactly what you’ll wanna do, and I’m begging you not to. There are a million other things we can do at the resort. I promise.” The tone Steve had slipped into was much too inviting for Eddie not to indulge it.

“Like?” Eddie asked, quirking an eyebrow up playfully. Steve wasted no time taking the bait as he stood and moved closer, before plopping himself right into Eddie’s lap. On instinct, Eddie’s hands moved to rest on Steve’s hips.

“Like, sneaking into the hot springs after hours,” Steve suggested in a low tone. He dipped his mouth closer until his breath skirted the sensitive skin of Eddie’s neck just enough to send a small shiver through his shoulders. “Spend a romantic evening in front of the fire, spend a night getting wine-drunk at the bar before heading back to our cabin…”

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of plans for not spending time with your parents,” Eddie pointed out, but very much enjoying the sound of it.

“Oh, that’s the Harrington Way,” Steve assured him with a coy smile before moving to kiss along the column of Eddie’s neck. By the time Steve was running his tongue along the shell of Eddie’s ear, he’d completely forgotten what they’d been talking about. “So, no attempts at skiing?”

Lost in the sensation, Eddie would have agreed to just about anything at that point. “I promise, Stevie.”

“Good,” Steve grinned and then tilted his head teasingly. “I was thinking after breakfast we could go back to bed?”

“Oh, breakfast can wait, sweetheart,” Eddie promised. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Oh really?” Steve asked in a mildly offended tone.

“Well, not for eggs at least.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Eddie had a plan. Maybe it was silly and unnecessary—or maybe even stupid—but once he got an idea in his head, he wasn’t going to quit until he’d at least tried .

And all plans, regardless of their cleverness, called for the input of a good friend.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Chrissy asked, her brow raised skeptically as Eddie clicked his boots into the skis she’d loaned him for the afternoon. Of everyone in his life, Eddie was grateful that his best friend was a certified snow bunny—and someone willing to entertain his whims. “I’m sure Steve wouldn’t want—”

“Me to feel like his family won’t like me if I’m not the perfect skier?” Eddie cut in, waving her off. “Yeah. I know. But I still want to try. So teach me to shred some powder, Cunningham.”

“I was going to say ‘wouldn’t want you to get hurt,’ but,” Chrissy leveled him with a look that almost made Eddie feel bad, but not quite. It’s not like he was as clumsy as Robin, for Christ’s sake. He could handle this. Chrissy sighed and trudged on, seemingly reading his mind. “I know your stubborn face when I see it.”

“Good,” Eddie grinned widely at her acquiescence, or at least her reluctance to argue with him. “Now be a dear and take a photo while my hair still looks intentionally windswept instead of like I got caught in a blizzard.”

Chrissy laughed even as she rolled her eyes and began to search for her phone in one of her many pockets. While she patted herself down, Eddie shuffled into a better pose at the top of the small hill they’d come out to for practice. When he’d asked Chrissy if she could teach him to ski, she laughed at first, but eventually agreed to get a feel for if he could even try to learn or not. Chrissy had loaned him an old pair, and agreed to show him the basics on a hill that even little kids could handle with a sled so that he didn’t break his neck.

It was a perfect day for it—Steve was at work, a fresh snow blanketed most of the town. Now it was only flurrying lightly to add some sparkle to the air. There weren’t many people around to witness him potentially embarrassing himself, and the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds, giving the occasional illusion of some warmth trickling through the crisp wind.

Moving in his skis didn’t feel nearly as foreign and awkward as he’d expected it to, and Eddie felt a pleased smile work its way onto his face at the thought. He could do this.

Except that he couldn’t.

In his attempt to look good for a photo, Eddie did exactly what Chrissy had told him not to, and leaned a little too far forward on his skis a little too close to the edge of the slope. In an instant, he lost his balance and was tumbling forward and down the hill at a faster clip than he’d been ready for—which was none at all.

“Shit shit shit shit shi—” Eddie’s panicked curses became muffled as he tumbled off his feet and onto his front. He ate a mouthful of snow in the process, and went from being vaguely able to feel his cheeks to not knowing which direction his face was even supposed to be pointing.

Eddie kept hurtling down the hill, ass over tea kettle, until his skis popped off and he finally landed in a heap at the bottom, with all the snow he’d accumulated on his way down still clinging to him.

Vaguely, he noticed Chrissy rushing towards him, looking graceful and not at all like an idiot as she skidded to a stop beside him with her concerned face on.

“Eddie!” she yelped, and he already felt guilty for worrying her.

“I’m okay—” Eddie tried to assure her before she could even speak, but he barely got it out before he coughed up some melting snow like something out of a cartoon.

“Yeah, you look it,” Chrissy deadpanned as she kneeled down to check him over for wounds. “Anything hurt?”

“Besides my pride?” Eddie quipped, and drew a small smile from Chrissy. “I don’t think so.”

“Your face is cut,” she pointed out, then gently dabbed his cheek with her glove. He was surprised to see it come away with a small blood stain. “And you’re covered in snow, and—Jesus, really Eddie?”

“What?” Eddie asked, starting to feel the shock wear off and the cold set in. Snow pants were helpful at keeping that feeling of frozen wetness at bay, sure, but not perfect by any stretch.

Especially when they’d slipped off a little on his way down, effectively soaking his underwear.

“You didn’t even put your gloves on yet?” Chrissy asked, exasperated as she took in Eddie’s shaking hands. They were already red and stinging from grasping for purchase in the snow.

“I was trying to look good for the picture?” Eddie tried, and Chrissy clicked her tongue at him.

“Can you stand?” she asked. “We need to get you out of this cold.”

“You mean I can’t try again?” Eddie asked, already letting her help him stand up. When he put weight on his left ankle, though, he winced.

Of course Chrissy didn’t miss it.

“ No ,” she admonished. “And even if you weren’t hurt the answer would be no.”

“You’re no fun,” Eddie grumbled, but dutifully hobbled off with Chrissy’s arm looped around him.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

“For the last time, Chris, I’m fine ,” Eddie insisted again, plopping down into the safe cushioning of his couch at last. “I’m just sore and cold.”

“Right,” Chrissy said, not sounding at all convinced as she went off to make him some tea. Crowley came over to greet him then, but promptly gave him an offended look when he felt Eddie’s cold fingers scratch his chin.

“Well sorry ,” Eddie grumbled, and Crowley gave him a brief lick on the arm before disappearing to warmer climes. At least he cared enough to try to clean Eddie up, if only a little.

If he was being honest, Eddie’s ankle hurt pretty bad, but he could still walk on it well enough. But all he wanted at this point was to warm up and live down his humiliation in peace.

Naturally, Chrissy wasn’t going to let that happen. Once Eddie was sipping his tea, she gave his hurt ankle a gentle squeeze, palpating like she knew what she was doing. Eddie tried to hide a pained whimper behind an annoyed grumble, like her fretting over him wasn’t needed.

“I wish you’d go get this looked at,” she sighed, but carefully lowered his foot back to the floor. “I don’t think it’s broken, but if you wake up with a fat, purple ankle tomorrow and Steve has questions—”

“Questions about what?”

For the first time he could remember, Eddie winced at the sound of Steve’s voice. Because of course Steve was here to witness this embarrassment that Eddie’d been hoping he could take to his grave. Steve tilted his head in question at the scene before him, the look on his face growing quickly more concerned as he took in Eddie’s state. Eddie was pretty sure he looked something like a drowned, half-frozen rat.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked after what felt like an eternity of silence, eyebrows pinching together when his eyes finally landed on the bloody cut on Eddie’s cheek. Then he was by Eddie’s side in a second, kneeling beside Chrissy and putting her nervous fussing to shame. “What the hell happened?”

“Well, see,” Eddie fumbled for an excuse. He wasn’t prepared to come up with a story yet, thinking he’d have hours before Steve got home. Not that Eddie wanted to lie to Steve. He just didn’t want to worry him, either. “I tripped.”

“Down a mountain?” Steve asked, incredulous.

“Pretty close,” Chrissy mumbled, and Eddie gave her a soft kick with his bad leg and regretted it immediately. “He tried to ski.”

Steve’s eyes locked on Eddie’s with a look that was somehow equal parts pity, concern, and also somehow finding Eddie to be the most endearing thing in the whole world.

Even though it was still half-frozen in his chest, Eddie felt his heart clench.

“He what?” Steve asked, calmer than Eddie expected. Steve was speaking to Chrissy, but didn’t take his eyes off of Eddie.

Eddie gave him the best sheepish smile he could muster.

“You know the big hill all the kids like to sled down? Just up the road?” Chrissy asked. Steve just nodded. “Well. He wanted me to teach him to make it to the bottom.”

“Seems like you made it, one way or another,” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Ha ha,” Eddie groaned. “Now will you stop mocking me and help me? I’m injured here.”

“I tried to take him to the hospital but he refused,” Chrissy added, making sure she tattled on Eddie in every way she could.

“ Eds ,” Steve chastised, but he was already rushing to take care of Eddie himself. He moved to slip Eddie’s coat off and found a thick blanket from the couch to replace it with, to start.

“Can you throw some of his clothes in the dryer for me, Chris? Warm them up a little?” Steve asked, and Chrissy was already moving towards the laundry before he’d finished the question.

“I’m fine, Stevie, I swear,” Eddie tried.

“You just admitted that you’re hurt, so hush. You’re bleeding, you’re soaked—” Steve paused just long enough to brush his hand against Eddie’s cold cheek, warmth blooming across Eddie’s skin from his fingertips alone, “—god, Eds, you’re freezing . Come here.”

Steve wrapped the blanket even tighter around Eddie’s shoulders, then pulled Eddie into his arms—surprisingly warm, always strong and inviting. Eddie sank into the embrace, and even though he was still wet through, he was happy to stay there for a little while and absorb some of Steve’s warmth.

“Clothes are in, including your fuzzy penguin socks,” Chrissy informed them as she made her way back into the living room. Those were Eddie’s favorite pair, and he was suddenly very glad that Chrissy knew it. “I trust you’ve got him from here?”

“I do,” Steve assured her. The deep rumble of his promise echoed through Eddie’s cold bones, sending another shiver running through him. “Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

“Is that a come on?” Eddie asked, smirking and unable to help himself.

Steve rolled his eyes, but bit his lip all the same. Eddie only heard a muffled snort come from Chrissy as she slipped out the front door.

“Pants off, Munson,” Steve ordered once he’d helped Eddie into the bathroom. He left Eddie leaning against the sink as he got the hot water going in the shower, then he gave Eddie two pain pills and urged him to take them for his ankle.

“You know,” Eddie said once he’d swallowed. “If you wanted to get me naked so badly, you could have just said so this morning. Might’ve saved us a lot of trouble.”

The exasperated sigh that escaped Steve’s mouth turned into a low chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair. The look he gave in return left Eddie feeling closer to warm than he had for hours.

“I’m serious, Eddie,” Steve nodded at Eddie’s zipper as his voice dropped even lower. “Off.”

Eddie couldn’t help but note the promise in the way Steve was turning bossy already.

“My hands are much too cold to be of any use, Harrington,” Eddie crowed, surprisingly grateful for how this was turning out. “You’ll have to help me.”

Steve didn’t look too displeased at the prospect, either. He stepped towards Eddie with a little more hunger coloring his eyes now, beyond just the worry. Eddie thought maybe his flirting was going a long way towards convincing Steve that he was alright.

Steve paused after undoing Eddie’s snow pants and pushing them to the ground, looking surprised. “You borrowed my long underwear?”

“Yes?” Eddie asked more than answered. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” Steve chuckled lightly as he played with the waistband between two fingers. “Some of my favorite parts of yours would’ve frozen off if you hadn’t.”

“Oh? Like what?” Eddie asked, unable to help himself.

“Oh, you know,” Steve shrugged. Slowly, Steve worked his hands around to cup Eddie’s ass and squeezed, drawing Eddie in closer as he did. Steve just barely pressed one thigh between Eddie’s legs, creating just enough friction on Eddie’s dick to grab its attention.

Eddie let out a small gasp, but Steve kept moving along.

“I expected you to be a little more apologetic, really,” he mused as he pushed Eddie’s underwear to the floor. Steve deftly ignored the way Eddie’s half-hard cock bobbed as he did, and moved on to peeling Eddie’s shirts off next.

Eddie tilted his head to the side, watching Steve’s face as he started to feel the steam from the shower defrost his stinging skin. “Why’s that, Stevie?”

Steve didn’t answer at first, instead grabbing a towel off the hook and running it through Eddie’s damp hair. It felt so good, the way he massaged Eddie’s scalp as he gently wrung the melted snow from his curls, that Eddie almost forgot he’d asked a question.

“You broke your promise,” Steve sighed, sounding almost hurt about it, but still resigned. Like he knew all along that this was exactly what Eddie would do, one way or another. “You hurt yourself, made me worry about you.”

Steve brushed Eddie’s hair over one shoulder, then just barely brushed his lips against the skin of the other. Eddie felt his muscles contract at the gesture—and felt the burn of probably having pulled one or two of them as he fell—and gained new resolve to fix things.

Because Steve was right, Eddie had broken his promise.

“Let me make it up to you?” Eddie suggested.

Once more, Steve didn’t respond right away. Instead he moved around to towel down Eddie’s front, taking his time to trace along each curve of Eddie’s torso and make sure not a drop of cold water was left clinging to him.

Then Steve dropped to his knees, and Eddie bit back a gasp as he watched Steve dry off each of his legs, slow and deliberate, taking extra care around his sore ankle. Steve propped that foot up on his own thigh for a moment, giving Eddie a much needed break from putting any weight on it. He ran the towel between Eddie’s legs last, sending another shiver up Eddie’s spine from just the barest touch of his cock.

“I don’t know if you can be that good, Eds,” Steve murmured, then pressed a kiss to the inside of Eddie’s thigh.

“I’ll be so good for you, Stevie,” Eddie retorted quickly. “I—”

“Promise?” Steve finished for him as he drew himself back up to stand, his eyes skeptical.

Eddie gulped, regret and anticipation coursing through his veins and fighting it out for dominance. So he just nodded, hoping his gaze would impart the pleading he felt in his gut as he locked eyes with the man he loved—the one he regretted hurting more than he did hurting himself.

Steve smiled, a dangerous, beautiful thing, then drew Eddie’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucked. “Show me.”

“What do you want me to do, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, happy to comply with whatever Steve wanted.

“Wait here,” Steve smirked as he drew back from Eddie, leaving a gulf of empty space in his absence as he opened the door and left. Eddie heard the distinct thunk of the dryer door opening and closing before the machine started up again. Steve thankfully returned nearly as quickly as he’d gone, holding up a clean robe for Eddie. “Put your robe on.”

“But—”

Steve raised an eyebrow in challenge, and Eddie swallowed his retort. He chose to rephrase it in the form of a question.

“Aren’t I supposed to be getting in there?” he asked, nodding towards the shower.

“Nope,” Steve said simply, guiding Eddie’s arms into the warm, fluffy robe as he did. Eddie melted into the softness of it, thinking maybe the clothes dryer was a contender for the greatest invention of all time. “Just needed the steam to help warm you up.”

“Why just steam?” Eddie asked, hearing the way his voice had melted and finding it hard to care. “Why not actual water?”

“Because going from too cold to too hot too fast will just make it worse,” Steve explained patiently as he tied the robe around Eddie’s waist. “I’ve gotta warm you up slowly.”

“I have a few suggestions for that, you know.” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows, and not-so-subtly nodded at the tent he was sporting in his robe.

Steve looked down and bit his lip, but still didn’t touch. It was already driving Eddie mad.

“Only you could get that hard at a time like this,” Steve pointed out.

“Hmm, I think you’re selling yourself short, sweetheart,” Eddie said, just as he palmed Steve’s dick through his pants. Sure enough, Steve was sporting the start of his own hard-on.

Eddie grinned like he’d won a prize.

“I need to wrap your ankle before you get any more of those ideas, Eds,” Steve said. His words didn’t quite match the way he was running his teeth along the underside of Eddie’s jaw, though. Or the searing grip he had around Eddie’s hips.

Eddie wanted to argue, wanted to say that his ankle was fine, that all he needed was Steve to touch him for real —but more than anything he wanted to be good for Steve, to reassure him, to be everything he needed in that moment.

“Okay,” Eddie hummed, and Steve steered him to sit before getting an elastic bandage from the medicine cupboard.

Steve kneeled back on the floor and got to work, starting at Eddie’s toes and working his way up as he wrapped the bandage just tightly enough for Eddie to feel the relief of it. By the time he was done, Eddie’s ankle barely hurt at all.

Sometimes he swore Steve’s hands were magic.

Like he’d read Eddie’s mind, Steve ran his hands up Eddie’s still bare legs, slow and steady, before stopping to squeeze Eddie’s thighs and slot himself between them. Seemingly out of nowhere, he produced a tube of ointment and dabbed a small amount on Eddie’s cut cheek.

“You’re still cold,” Steve remarked as Eddie leaned into his touch. Their faces were so close, Eddie could almost feel the heat of Steve coming off him in waves. He wasn’t sure he even remembered what feeling cold was like anymore.

“Nuh uh,” Eddie argued. “I’m warmer than I’ve ever been. Feel like I’m on fire. You fixed me, Stevie.”

“Mhmm,” Steve mumbled, clearly unconvinced as he leaned in to press a soft kiss against Eddie’s lips. It was too quick, though, before Steve was talking again. “I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Show me?” Eddie asked, echoing Steve’s own words. Steve smiled again just as the dryer beeped to signal its finish.

“Glad to,” Steve agreed, and once again was on his feet and out the door.

Eddie did his best to keep his complaining to a minimum as Steve put more clothes on him instead of less—especially considering how nice his fuzzy penguin socks felt coming straight from the dryer.

Still, he had to say something.

“Stevie,” Eddie half-whined as Steve slipped a thermal shirt over Eddie’s head, “aren’t you going a little overboard?”

“Definitely not,” Steve gave him a stern look and put his hands on his hips. Now that Eddie was fully clothed and cared for, Steve finally turned off the shower, but the lingering steam still left his skin more flushed than usual. Eddie found it mesmerizing to look at. “Now are you going to behave and get in bed yourself? Or do I have to carry you?”

“Oh, you definitely have to carry me,” Eddie grinned at the prospect.

In an instant, Steve hoisted Eddie up and draped him over his shoulder, like he barely weighed anything at all. All Eddie could see was Steve’s back, entranced by the way his muscles worked beneath his t-shirt as he carried Eddie into their bedroom. It was all so surprising, even though he’d asked for it, Eddie couldn’t help but laugh wildly.

“So much for being good,” Steve muttered under his breath, but Eddie could feel his shoulders bobbing with laughter as well.

“I am, Stevie, I swear!” Eddie said, his own giggles interrupted by a snort.

“Gonna need some more proof,” Steve said just before he dumped Eddie onto their bed. Despite Eddie’s flailing, he managed to do it gently, and Eddie felt like he’d landed on a warm, soft cloud.

Eddie didn’t know how or when he’d managed to do it, but Steve had piled at least three more blankets than usual on their bed. There was an indent in them that was distinctly cat-shaped, which Eddie thought was probably vacated when Steve discarded him on the bed. Apparently neither of the cats cared to stay and find out why one of their dads was tossing the other around the house like a rag doll.

“In you get,” Steve nodded as he pulled the blankets back.

“Aren’t you getting in with me?” Eddie pouted just enough to still be taken seriously and get his way.

“Figure I don’t have much of a choice,” Steve smirked as he stripped down to his boxers. “You’ll need the extra body heat.”

“Damn right,” Eddie agreed and moved to take his socks off before slipping his feet between the covers.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, and Eddie stopped his movements.

“You know I hate wearing socks to bed, Stevie,” Eddie said.

“Humor me?”

Eddie left the socks on. Steve’s small smile as he climbed into bed was worth it.

Steve laid back against the pillows and held his arm out—an invitation for Eddie to tuck himself in. Eddie thought about protesting, about throwing a leg over Steve’s waist to straddle him and kiss him until he forgot whatever his plan for the rest of their night was. It was tempting, but so was finding out what Steve had in mind.

And based on the look on his face, it was more than cuddling.

So Eddie complied, laying on his side and burying himself in Steve’s arms. Steve folded around him easily, happy with the responsibility of being the big spoon for now, and pulled the blankets up around them in a cocoon of warm coziness.

“You know, I’m still a little chilly,” Eddie murmured without an ounce of sincerity. “I think skin to skin contact would be much more effective.”

“Oh I bet you do,” Steve laughed, but obliged by taking his own shirt off. Then he prodded Eddie to sit up, and slipped his off next. Eddie took the opportunity to quickly kick his socks off, as well.

“You know I am capable of undressing myself—”

“Shh,” Steve hushed Eddie as he pulled him back under the covers. For a while he just held Eddie and let the steady beat of his heart warm them both. Eventually Steve started to massage Eddie’s sore shoulders. He hadn’t even realized how tight they were before Steve’s strong hands were working out the knots, then moving on to Eddie’s arms, his hips, his scalp. By the time Steve slid his fingertips across the line of Eddie’s collarbone and down his chest, Eddie was turning to mush in his hands.

It also had the added bonus of leaving him feeling hot all over.

“Stevie,” Eddie sighed, somehow in a daze of contentment and yet getting unbearably excited again. He could feel each slow, happy thunk of his heart reverberating through his ribcage.

“What, baby?” Steve asked, voice quiet and full of innocence.

“Please,” was all Eddie said.

“I know,” Steve hummed as he pulled one of Eddie’s nipples between two fingers. He couldn’t help but arch into the contact. “You’ve been so patient for me, letting me take care of you.”

“I have,” Eddie opted to give himself a little bit of credit, and Steve rewarded him with a low chuckle.

“What do you want, Eddie?” Steve asked, just like he always did when Eddie let him take the lead.

“Don’t care,” Eddie said, because it was true. He just needed Steve to touch him, to love him the way only he could.

“Then you can’t want it that bad,” Steve laughed.

“ Steve .”

“ Eddie ,” Steve matched his tone. “Tell me.”

“Want you to fuck me,” Eddie admitted around a whine. “Just like this, with you holding me.”

For a moment, Steve’s presence at Eddie’s back disappeared, and Eddie felt the loss like an ache. But then he was back again, this time pressed closer still, and slowly pushed the waistband of Eddie’s sweats down his thighs. He continued his slow movements, massaging Eddie’s hips, his legs, his ass, leaving no part of him feeling unloved or uncared for.

Eventually, Steve withdrew his hands for a moment, just long enough for Eddie to be surprised at the cold feel of lube trickling against his hole.

“Ack, that’s cold !” Eddie gasped, even though the temperature swing felt kind of nice. All the same, Steve pulled away and began warming the lube with his fingers.

“You usually like that part.” He placed a single, soothing kiss against Eddie’s shoulder.

“Well I’m more sensitive since I became a human snowball today,” Eddie retorted quickly.

“Sorry,” Steve assured him, but his quiet laughter let Eddie know he wasn’t sorry at all. Eddie was proven further right when Steve started humming Frosty the Snowman into the crook of his neck.

“Stop that, you assho— ohh ,” Eddie’s laugh morphed into a moan as Steve finally slipped his fingers inside. He stretched Eddie open just how he knew it would frustrate Eddie the most—with just enough of a burn to leave him needing more, and now .

Eddie pushed back onto Steve’s fingers, dragging his aching cock against the sheets for some much-needed friction as well. Steve laid a hand over Eddie’s hip to still him just as he pulled Eddie’s earlobe between his teeth.

“Stay still, babe,” Steve instructed, and it took all of Eddie’s willpower to comply. Seemingly reading Eddie’s mind—or body, or both—Steve slid one arm beneath Eddie’s head until he could press his hand against Eddie’s chest, then pulled him back until he was flush against Steve’s. The position had the added benefit of holding Eddie still, while also making him feel the safest he’d ever been. “You ready for me?”

“Fuck, sweetheart, beyond ready,” Eddie said, practically panting already.

Steve pulled his fingers free, leaving Eddie clenching with anticipation. Then, ever so slightly, he felt Steve line the tip of his cock up with Eddie’s hole. And then he waited.

“Please, Steve.” The plea was barely out of Eddie’s mouth before Steve pushed deep inside in one hard thrust, the wet sound of it filling the room alongside Eddie’s gasps. Eddie tensed at the sensation, pleased and relieved and aching all at once.

Steve rubbed soothing circles into Eddie’s hip with his free, still lube-slick hand, and began pressing more kisses into the now overheated skin of Eddie’s shoulders.

“You feel so fuckin’ perfect, Eds,” Steve groaned, setting Eddie’s senses further alight. “Doing so good for me.”

The praise went straight to Eddie’s dick, already twitching and leaking precum all over the sheets. Eddie only managed a whimper, desperate for Steve to move, to touch him, for anything more than he was willing to give in that moment.

“You wanna touch yourself?” Steve asked, eyeing the way Eddie’s cock was clearly in need of attention.

“Y—yes,” Eddie managed weakly. “Can I?”

“Not yet,” Steve said lowly, then took Eddie’s hand in his own as he started to move his hips. He set an agonizing pace, slow and deliberate so that he could coax every bit of pleasure out of Eddie’s prostate with the tip of his cock and sheer willpower alone. Eventually Eddie managed to hook his leg up and over Steve’s behind him, deepening each thrust so deliciously that Eddie couldn’t tell where his body stopped and Steve’s began.

For what felt like ages, Steve dragged Eddie right to the edge and then back, picking up the pace and slowing it again, like a pendulum of pleasure and denial. Steve’s free hand kept roaming, too, teasing Eddie’s sweaty skin with what he might do next—whether that was pinching Eddie’s nipples, or pressing into his taint, or just barely teasing the nest of hair at the base of his cock before pulling away again.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” Eddie gasped, feeling like he might fall apart at the seams as Steve set another particularly punishing pace. “I— fuck .”

Steve stilled his hips, filling Eddie up completely and staying there until a torturous kind of pleasure trickled up Eddie’s spine and spread through his limbs. Then Steve finally wrapped his hand around the base of Eddie’s cock and squeezed , leaving Eddie seeing stars and desperate to thrust into it, desperate for any movement at all.

The sight of Steve’s hand on Eddie’s cock alone was enough to drive him crazy—from the slight sheen from the lube and precum on his fingers, to the way he enveloped Eddie fully, or how the veins between his knuckles strained against his skin.

It was electric, the way every inch of Steve could make Eddie fall apart, and it was reaching the limit of what Eddie could handle.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie chanted, grabbing a handful of sheets so he didn’t immediately come all over Steve’s perfect fist.

“Who’s my good boy?” Steve asked. His lips brushed Eddie’s ear as he talked, hot and breathless yet entirely in control.

“ I am ,” Eddie all but screamed, pleading for it to be true. “I am, Stevie— please . I’ve been so—fuck— good .”

“Have you?” Steve asked, his teasing bordering on unbearable at this point.

“Yes!” Eddie cried, squirming in Steve’s talented hands now as he babbled. “I swear I have, I’ll do whatever you want baby, please, please, fuck don’t stop.”

“Anything I want, huh,” Steve mused, voice playful, then licked a stripe up the side of Eddie’s neck. “What if I want to stop?”

Eddie actually managed to laugh, but it was a pained little sound. “I’d probably cry, but I’d do it. For you.”

“For me?” Steve asked softly, all traces of teasing gone from his voice now, leaving nothing but want in its place.

“It’s all for you, baby,” Eddie nodded frantically. “I’m only good for you…please, I swear. Shit, please let me come, Steve.”

“Well, since you asked nicely,” Steve purred, and Eddie could’ve come from the sound alone. Steve swiped a bead of precum from Eddie’s tip, then brought it to his mouth and licked his fingers clean. Eddie groaned loudly at the sight, barely able to hold it together before Steve even touched him again.

In time with his thrusts, now, Steve wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock and jerked him off in long, graceful strokes. There was nothing slow about the way Steve moved now, with each roll of his hips getting sloppier as he chased both of their orgasms like he meant it, this time. Every push inside sent a shockwave roiling through Eddie’s whole body, every roll of Steve’s palm over the head of his cock seemed to splinter time itself. Barely holding on, Eddie grasped for whatever purchase he could find, reaching behind him to thread his fingers through Steve’s hair. Steve let out a broken whimper when Eddie gave it a tug, and Eddie wasn’t sure life could get better than this.

“Go on, Eds,” Steve said, his own voice sounding wrecked now. “Wanna watch you come for me.”

That was all it took—all Eddie ever needed, really.

“ Fuck ,” Eddie nearly howled, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears as his orgasm tore through him like wildfire. He could barely hear Steve follow him soon after over the blood buzzing in his veins, but Eddie felt the hot, wet spray of Steve coming inside of him. It sent another spark of arousal shuddering through him, and Eddie made a desperate, keening sound as his body contorted around it. He wasn’t sure if it was moments or hours later when he finally gasped out a raspy little, “Goddamn it, Stevie.”

“Good?” Steve asked, and all Eddie could muster was a weak laugh.

“Incredible,” Eddie corrected. “Some of your best work.”

Steve’s small, proud smile at the compliment was enough to set Eddie’s heart all aflutter again, like some kind of lovesick teenager. But that feeling never really went away where Steve was concerned, and Eddie never wanted it to.

“Do you still want that hot shower?” Steve asked eventually, once they’d caught their breath and the sweat started to cool.

“I’d probably just drown,” Eddie said simply. “Couldn’t move if I tried.”

Instead, Steve opted for the quick clean up with a warm washcloth. Then he helped Eddie shift, bonelessly, to move one of the dry blankets beneath them for now.

“You’re too good to me,” Eddie purred as Steve finally curled his body back around him like it was exactly where he belonged. Eddie believed wholeheartedly that it was.

“Here I thought you were the good one,” Steve said as he settled in closer and pulled the covers tight around them. Eddie twisted in his arms so that they were face to face.

“Oh, I am,” Eddie assured him with a kiss on the nose. “But you can be, too.”

“Oh phew,” Steve grinned, pretending to be relieved. “Are you warm enough?”

“Positively toasty,” Eddie said. Then a wicked thought occurred to him. “Maybe I should totally fuck up at skiing more often.”

“Don’t you dare ,” Steve warned, just barely letting his amusement shine through his stern face. He still wasn’t actually annoyed enough to stop running his fingers through Eddie’s hair, though. He sighed, seeming thoughtful for a moment, so Eddie didn’t interrupt. Instead he let himself get caught up in the feel of Steve’s hands in his hair, their legs a tangled mess, the way he felt warm through, and more than just on a physical level.

“You know you don’t have to change anything for me, right?” Steve finally said, a whisper filling up the narrow space left between them. “Whether you know how to ski or not isn’t gonna change how much I love you, or how I wanna spend the rest of our lives together.”

The words settled in Eddie’s chest and crackled like they were flames and Eddie’s heart was the kindling. He swallowed thickly, not sure how to respond right away no matter how many times Steve said something so earnest like that.

Even though Eddie knew he and Steve were in this for the long haul, sometimes it still knocked him off his feet to be reminded.

“I know,” Eddie said softly, grabbing Steve’s hand in his own and bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. Steve seemed pleased to hear it, his brown eyes gleaming. Still, Eddie had a question. “Isn’t the point of sharing a life with someone to grow together, though?”

“Well, sure,” Steve nodded, then shifted until he settled further into his pillow, close enough for them to bump noses now. Then he grinned. “But in ways you actually want to, Eds. You don’t need to force yourself to become a human snowball for my benefit, is all I’m saying.”

“But you would’ve thought it was hot if I showed up at the resort and kicked your ass on the way down a mountain,” Eddie guessed, because that was the mental picture that had driven him to insanity. He still thought the idea of surprising Steve with a triumphant kiss at the bottom of even the smallest of slopes would’ve been a nice Christmas present.

Steve seemed to be picturing it as well, because after a moment’s contemplation he admitted, “Yeah, okay. That would’ve been hot.”

“I rest my case,” Eddie said, and sealed it with a lazy, slow kiss—like they both knew they had time to savor one another.

“ This outcome was pretty hot, too, though,” Steve pointed out when they pulled apart, and Eddie couldn’t really disagree.

“I knew you love it when I’m a damsel for you,” Eddie said, preening just to see the affectionate way Steve rolled his eyes. “Either way, I made the right call today, I think.”

“You’re not gonna stop until I agree, are you?” Steve guessed.

“Nope.”

“Fine,” Steve relented, but then he cupped Eddie’s cheek the way he always did when he wanted something. “Can we just agree not to try winter sports again, though? Otherwise I might just let you freeze, next time.”

“If you do, you know I’ll have no choice but to haunt you mercilessly,” Eddie pointed out. To his surprise, all that drew out of Steve was a blissful smile that Eddie couldn’t help but return.

“Is that a promise?” Steve asked.

“You bet your sweet cheeks it is, Stevie.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Eventually, as Eddie started to drift off into sleep, he glanced out the bedroom window. He found the snow was falling outside once more, accumulating along the edges of the sill like it was stopping by for a visit.

Pretty as it was, Eddie was more than grateful to be inside, warm and safe in Steve’s arms.

#steddie #stuadholidayexchange #dani's drafts #steddie fanfic

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captainjamster · 4 months

Text

A Surprise Exception

Pairing(s): Kate Laswell x F!Reader Warnings: pre-established strained relationship with sibling, non-sexual intimacy, post-sex cuddling and talks Wordcount: 3.2k Summary: Kate really does not like children, and there’s not a chance in hell she’s having any. No one is changing her mind – but someone else might convince her they’re not all terrible. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: A few notes for this one! This was written all in one go, so I will probably come back to edit it at some point. While I normally write neutral SFW inserts, reader identifies as a woman because I won't write Kate that isn't a lesbian <3 Pre-established strained relationship w/ sibling is an important tag. This is not a generalised portrayal of single parents; this is an insert specifically with family difficulties, and a couple trying to navigate that with understanding but not permissive boundaries. Also, I hate reading baby talk too, I'm sorry! But I can't make a four year old talk like an adult, so her speech pattern just follows the overgeneralisation of grammatical rules most children engage in developmentally. Lastly, child-free individuals have every right to be child-free, this specifically isn't a "MC changes their mind suddenly" fic. Laswell just realises that not every single child makes her want to remove her ovaries

Full fic under the cut <3

“No.” Her voice is firm, lips tight in that frown that you know means business. It doesn’t deter your dramatics, eyes pleading, hands clasped in front of you. “Please!”

“I told you, no kids.” She turns back to the countertop, sipping at the black coffee you’d just placed in front of her. The room basks in the pale sunrise, orange tinting the walls as light shines from the document Kate is already pouring herself over.

“Kate, it’s just one kid –“

“No! We talked about this at the very beginning. No kids, you agreed.”

You inhale deeply, squashing down a frustrated sigh as the pressure of your palms turns your vision fuzzy for a second. “Yes, I know I agreed – but come on!”

There’s a pause as your words linger in the air, and Kate’s shoulders drop. “Come on?”

You reel back, groaning. “No, I’m sorry – I’m sorry, not like that, fuck. I’m sorry. I’m frustrated and I just feel misunderstood, like you’re not… getting it.”

“Because there’s nothing to get; because we both made a very clear agreement when we started this relationship.” Her tone is final, but you don’t back down.

“Kate!”

She exclaims your name in exasperation, swinging back around on the barstool as she white-knuckles the tablet in her hands.

“Okay, okay – just, okay, just hear me out. Please.” You try not to wilt under her disapproving look, but she doesn’t stop you, and you take the opportunity at full speed. “It’s not even for the whole day, just six hours! I’ll take her out to the park for a bit, I promise we won’t track mud in, and we’ll take a bath, I’ll dry her in the bathroom right after.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust with the shake of her head. “That’s good and all, but our rug? The couch? My office?”

Your head is shaking adamantly before her sentence ends. “She won’t step foot in your office, I won’t even let her go up the stairs, and I’m going to watch her the whole time.”

Disbelief is etched into her frown. “It’s a kid, babe. You’re fantastic, but you’re not magic. She’s gonna make a mess no matter how hard you try.”

Your mouth opens and closes, every retort coming up futile, and defeat quickly sinks in. Your shoulders slouch, a pout pulling at your lips as you take up the stool next to her, slumping over the cool granite top. The sigh Kate breathes is long, putting down the tablet. “Your sister’s asked us for this last-moment shit plenty before.”

“I know, but it’s different this time,” you mumble into your arms.

“And why is this ‘emergency’ any different?”

“Because she said the whole place still smells like insecticide, and she doesn’t trust the babysitter to know what to do if it makes Lottie sick, he’s barely seventeen. I don’t think she’s lying; I dropped off a grocery pickup on my way home from the store yesterday, and it really did stink.”

Kate bites at the inside of her lip, contemplating. “Can we not just give her money for a proper one?”

You look up incredulously, and Kate’s expression immediately crumples. “Sorry, yeah. That was stupid, I know we said no more giving her money.”

You return back to your forlorn position, tracing mindless shapes that leave a quickly evaporating trail of body heat.

“Honey, if we say yes, she’s going to keep asking us. I don’t want to set a precedent.” Her expression is sympathetic as you peer over the ruffled humps of your sleeve, a hand settling on your thigh. “She had time to get a better replacement, it’s not like the house started stinking yesterday. I’m not letting you play unpaid full-time caregiver again.”

You slide your own hand over hers, grip curling around the ring nestled against the base of her finger. “I know Kate, it won’t go that far. She can ask, but I swear, this will be the only time she ever stays at our house until she’s older. If she ever pulls this again, I’ll pack an overnight bag and go over there – I’ll go to our parents, if I really have to.”

“And she’s really going to work this time?” Kate probes, arms crossed. “This isn’t another “oh, I was definitely at ‘work’, but then I went on this date with a cute guy I just happened to meet on my ‘lunch break’ and forgot to block you from seeing the photos on my story?””

“I made triple sure – she sent me her schedule for the whole month, and a confirmation text that she’d be late this morning with a response from her boss. She already sent the interview confirmation when she got it, and she showed me the congratulatory email when we went out for drinks too.”

Before Kate can speak, you hold up your hand. “And I know, those can be easily faked. So, she’s going to share her location with me when – if we say yes – she gets there, and I’ll call her work line at some random point so Lottie can talk to her, to make sure. She’d be putting in more effort to fabricate this than she would actually getting the job.”

The air feels thick as Kate stays quiet – just looks over your face, searching for something.

“I’m not helping.” She concedes after a long pause, and you bolt up straight, slapping a hand over your mouth to keep back a loud cheer.

“I mean it, I’m going to be in my office. I’ll come out for lunch and say hello, I’m not going to ignore the kid. But no begging to play games, no help cleaning up messes or disasters, no picking you up halfway if her legs get tired.” She tilts her head, an eyebrow raised expectantly, amusement in those pretty blue eyes as she gazes at you.

“Nothing, I swear to god, baby. I’ll have lunch ready at around 12, I’ll just text you and you can come down.” You bring her hand to your lips, peppering kisses across her knuckles, making sure to be generous over her ring with a cheeky smile that Kate fondly rolls her eyes at.

Charlotte warbles a rhyme she learnt in day-care as you pull into your street, kicking her feet in time with the ticking of the indicator as you stop in the driveway. She makes a loud squawk as you reach for the door handle, a small glare peering up at you through the window to warn your hand away from it. You watch as she tugs at it until the latch clicks, using her legs to swing it open. “I did it all by myself!”

You give her a bemused smile, holding out a hand that she accepts as her little legs stretch to meet the pavement. “Yeah sweetie, you did it all by yourself, good job opening it. You wanna grab your bag, or should Auntie do it?”

Charlotte gives you the most withering look a four year old can muster, sighing loudly as she grabs the straps of her backpack from the floor. “Don’t you know I’m a big girl now? I gotta carry my own bag, Mama said.”

The pressure in your chest hurts as your throat constricts, desperately holding your breath to avoid laughing at the very serious mistake you’ve just made. “I’m – ah, sorry, I’m so sorry Lottie. You are a big girl now, yes.”

All is forgiven as you extend your hand again, and Charlotte skips up the short driveway by your side, backpack clunking with each step. “Was my singing good Auntie?”

You hum approvingly, swinging your arm gently. “It was great, honey. You know so much about bugs!”

She gives you a pleased, toothy grin, her face scrunched up in exaggeration. Before you open the to the door, you halt, crouching down to your niece’s level. She frowns at you inquisitively, gaze moving between your face and the door. “Alright, sweetheart. You remember what I said?”

Her expression dissolves into a sassy squint, nose scrunched up in distaste of your obviously silly adult ways. “Auntie, you told me like – like a million times!”

“I know, I know. Can you say it back to me, just one more time?”

With a roll of her eyes, she takes a deep breath, holding up a finger for each instruction you’ve given her. “Auntie Kate is really really busy, so we gotta be quiet, not be yelling, and I can’t be going up the stairs and being distracting.”

You nod in encouragement, giving her a smile. “And?”

Charlotte frowns, thinking for a moment, before her eyes light up. “And no making messes!”

She throws her arms up as you cheer, her chubby cheeks squished between them. “Yay! Inside now?”

You clap your hands to your thighs, standing up to reach for the handle. “Yep, inside now.”

Charlotte barrels through the door before it’s even fully open, almost pulled back as her bag is caught in the opening, and you catch her hand to stop her from running off. “Hold up, cowgirl! Those shoes need to come off first.”

You shuck off your own, watching as Charlotte tugs at hers, before helping her line them neatly against the wall. Coming out the hallway, to your surprise, Kate is sitting on the couch. You shoot her a confused frown as you walk closer, but she just comes over to meet you halfway, crouching down to Charlotte’s level. “Hey, sweetheart, I wanted to say hi again. Remember me?”

Charlotte lingers near your leg, her hand scrunched up in your pants as she looks your wife up and down. “You’re Auntie Kate.”

She gives a small smile, nodding slowly. “Yep. That’s right.”

Charlotte doesn’t respond, fingers in her mouth nervously. The room is quiet for a second as Kate looks equally unsure, twisting her hands together as she speaks again. “What… have you been up to lately?”

Your niece looks at her owlishly, round eyes slowly blinking.

“I punched a boy.”

Kate’s eyes widen, taken aback with an expression you mirror. “You punched a boy?”

Your niece nods solemnly, looking down at her scrunched up fist with a dramatic reminiscence. “He told my friend – he said, he was really mean, and he said girls can’t ride bikes, and he uhm – he did this,” she explains, making a sharp pushing motion into the air, “and she falled off and got hurted and she was really sad. And then I was sad, and then I did my fist like this and punched him!”

She raises her fist to Kate, a proud look on her small face, and you watch Kate struggle to keep the corners of her lips from peeking up. “Wow, I see. Did you get in trouble?”

Charlotte’s pigtails bounce as she shakes her head confidently, bringing a leg up to point at it as she balances on the other. “Nuh-uh, ‘cos my friend had all the blood on her knee and she was crying.”

Kate nods, clasping her hands together, already out of her depth with the look she gives you. “Right. Okay. Well, no punching anyone or falling off things while you’re here, alright?”

“Alright!” Charlotte chirps, giving Kate the same toothy grin. She gives a smile back before shooting you an impressed but shocked look that you just shrug at, grinning. Kate shakes her head, and you catch and squeeze her hand, pressing your lips to hers appreciatively before she scampers off. “Thank you, I love you.”

The wink she directs your way sends butterflies through your stomach, and they erupt as she calls out, retreating up the stairs. “Don’t worry! You’ll make it up to me.”

Charlotte peers down at the puzzle, hands on her hips as she balances the towel on her head. Impossibly happy voices sing from the TV as a show she begged for plays, and you catch a blue dog playing a xylophone with her orange sister when you peak around the corner to check on your niece. “Everything going okay, pumpkin?”

The puzzle is very uncomplete, but she’s been following your advice of finding all the border pieces, given the little pile she’s accumulating concentratedly. “We can get an easier one, honey. 50 pieces is a lot.”

Charlotte looks up at that, unimpressed. “I already did 10 pieces of jigsaw!”

With a shrug, you disappear back into the kitchen, cutting up the last toppings on your board as you call out again. “Alright, that’s fine. But lunch will be ready in 10 minutes, so we’ll take a break then, okay?”

A small grumble of acknowledgement comes from the floor, and you get back to it. Before long, the sandwiches are plated up, and Kate’s salad is in a bowl with her plate. Charlotte makes less fuss than you’d thought as she drags her feet over to the table, clambering up the chair to sit down. Grabbing your phone, you send off a text, shoving it back in your pocket before bringing the plates over. Charlotte eyes the sandwiches, peeking through the layers of bread. “Is it good?”

You laugh, picking up your own slice. “I hope so. Your mama said it’s your favourite.”

“No way!” She perks up excitedly, grabbing a quarter and taking a big bite. Kate descends from her office a few minutes later, cup in hand and making a beeline for the kitchen. She comes out with a fresh cup a moment later, taking a seat across from you. “Thanks for brewing a pot, honey,” she murmurs, scooping up a spoonful of salad. “Have you girls been having fun?”

Charlotte hums through a mouthful, wiggling in her chair. “Shaw ducksh at th’prk!”

Kate tries to hold back a grimace, cringing at the food around her mouth, and you send her an apologetic look as you speak up. “Swallow your food first, Lottie.”

Between chews, she narrows her eyes at you, but swallows before speaking again. “There was a mama and her babies.”

The meal is spent in a very one-sided conversation about your trip to the park as Charlotte earnestly recounts every detail, informing Kate about all the kinds of bugs she found under the rocks. The girl is on a long rattle about the spots on ladybug shells when Kate clears her throat, stacking her dishes together, and Charlotte cuts herself off. “No more food already?”

“I have work to finish,” Kate explains as she stands up, “and I’m sure you’re excited to play with Auntie for the last hour you’re here, right?”

A misty expression crosses Charlotte’s dirty face at the realisation, her bottom lip puckering out. “But what if I goed home and comed back after I sleep?”

Kate gives you a pointed look as she disappears around the corner, and you close your eyes for a moment as dishes clink against the metal sink, silently cursing. “Remember we talked about that, babes? You got day-care tomorrow, and I’ll come see you on the weekend.”

Charlotte brightens up temporarily at the mention of day-care, but you can see the moment she realises it’s ‘stopping’ her from coming over as her expression dampens again. “Can we go see ducks on the weekend?”

“Yeah honey, we can see the ducks again.” You nod, leaning back in your chair as Charlotte shoves the last of her sandwich into her mouth. Closing your eyes, your head falls back until it meets the wooden frame, taking a moment to sink down and relax. But tension suddenly springs back into them as fingers slide under your chin, your eyes opening to meet an upside down Kate.

“Hey beautiful,” she murmurs, and you giggle in her grasp, humming as she presses her lips to yours. “Thanks for lunch. You’re so sweet, keeping me fed.” She gives your cheek an affectionate pat, pulling away and heading to the stairs as you sit up and give her a scandalised look at her teasing praise. Footsteps against the floor patter behind you, and Charlotte darts past Kate to the door before you can question her.

“Auntie Kate!”

Your wife pauses, and you can see her breathe in before she turns. “What’s up, kiddo?”

Charlotte drags her bag over, crouching down and rummaging through its depths to pull something out. It takes you a moment to recognise the scraggly stems and squashed petals, but Charlotte shoves them out in offering with the confidence of someone holding a thousand dollar bouquet. “Auntie said you like flowers, and I thoughted maybe you got no flowers inside, so I got the best ones for you!”

Kate’s face pinches into something you’ve never seen before, and you debate stepping in before she crouches down, extending her hand to take the ragged bundle. “That was really thoughtful of you, Charlotte.” She takes a moment to smell them – more for Charlotte’s sake, you think –, and gives the kid a soft smile. “Thank you for getting me flowers. I’ll be happy to have them in my office now, hey?”

You can see Charlotte’s fingers twist and intertwine as they meet behind her back, shoulders up high as she sways happily, and you can only imagine the grin she’s giving Kate. “You’re welcome!” She chimes, grabbing her bag and hauling it back to the door. You watch Kate take in the flowers as they droop over her hand, standing up as she casts a look over at Charlotte, running back to the table. Your gazes connect as she flickers to you, a grin filling her face as she gestures the flowers at you, to which you flap your hand towards the stairs cheekily.

Your phone buzzes as you turn on the tap for Charlotte, and you pull it out as she dries her hands, tapping in on the photo of the flowers in a tall glass next to her computer.

<< Can’t wait to see yours. ;)

“I still hate kids.”

“I know,” you sigh happily into her collarbones, pressing a kiss against a mole there. Her skin is still soured by sweat, and you hum appreciatively at the taste, basking in the post-orgasmic daze washing through your limbs. Everything feels warm, exertion mingling with fatigue to settle across you in a sleepy blanket, and you can’t stifle a yawn that bubbles up.

“She was sweet, though. Thought she’d be more of a menace.”

A hum is all you get out, listening to the patter of her heart.

“We’re never having them.”

Kate squirms at the way you huff in amusement against her skin at the remark, tilting up to give her a look. “I know, honey. Wasn’t planning on changing my mind.”

She grins, running her nails across your scalp, bringing you back against her bare chest. “Thought I fucked that sass out.”

You snort, dipping out your tongue to run against her jugular, kissing the damp trail. “The only thing that recovers faster than your libido is my attitude.”

Kate laughs at that, nudging her leg further up between your thighs to make you squeak. “Now you’re trying to wind me up, close your damn eyes.”

“Uh-huh. I remember them being closed before you reminded me you hate kids.”

You whimper as her fingers tug in reprimand at your hair before resuming their strokes, rustling accompanying the sound of breathing in the moonlight room. There are lights swirling in barely visible colours as you fall further into a world between here and unconsciousness, and you feel weightless, floating in nothingness with the only person you’ve ever wanted by your side.

“… She wasn’t that bad, though.”

“Kate, go to sleep.”

dividers by cafekitsune

#laswell x reader #kate laswell x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #jams writings

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danime25 · 10 months

Text

Last Christmas

ao3 // normal masterlist // christmas masterlist

*Summary: Colt happened to overhear that there was a gift exchange. What will he do to get involved when he hears a member of the lighting crew shit talking someone else on staff?

*Rating: E for Everyone

*Content/Tags: Bittersweet Ending, Secret Santa

*Status: Oneshot?/Complete

“Ah damn.” Colt’s ears perked up as he overheard one of the lighting guys. He was in between scenes right now and he had another two hours of sitting on set before they’d actually need him for the day. So he did what came naturally to him, snoop.

“What?” The other guy asked, not looking up from the lights he was tweaking

“You know that one PA?”

“There’s a lot of them on set.” The other man rolled his eyes

“The one that hardly talks to anyone, and if she does she covers her mouth with that stupid clipboard she has?”

“Oh that frigid bitch.” His friend laughed. Colt raised an eyebrow. He knew the production assistant that they were talking about. He’d never had a problem with her in the past, and honestly she was probably the nicest member to him. She’d always make sure that he had enough time in between scenes to run to the craft table when he needed some coffee.

“Yeah, her. So I got her for the stupid secret santa. Wanna trade?”

“Hell no. You think I want that bitch who sucked a cock to get her job?”

“Well I don’t want her either, and no one else in lighting fucking wants her.”

“Did you ask the prop department? Someone in there might be desperate enough…”

“I’ll take her.” Colt, who up until then had been silently listening made a couple strides across the way, “I’ll take her for the gift exchange or… whatever.”

“Okay.” The first guy looked him up and down, “Who are you anyway?”

“I’m the stunt guy.” Colt nodded

“Fine. Here. Give me your sheet.” The guy held his hand out

“What sheet?”

“The secret santa sheet.” He rolled his eyes, “Did you even sign up?’ “Yeah. It’s just… in my car.” Colt slid away for a second and pulled a sheet of paper out of a script someone left around. He copied the general format, and wrote down a bullshit name. He strided back in and handed it off to the guy, “There.”

“Thanks.” He looked over it for a second before a runner came and started screaming about how the director needed everyone in lighting over at the other lot. Colt took a look at the sheet that he had tucked in his pocket so as not to get the two confused. He frowned a little bit as he saw how little she wrote. A woman of few words, he guessed. If he was going to get her something she’d like as a thank you for all the coffee breaks on set, he’d have to continue snooping. He looked down at his watch and hurried to the set where his next scene was. She was probably setting up there.

---

Sure enough, he found her pointing directions out to other members of the crew. He could hardly hear her and he was only about 10 feet away. Maybe his eardrums were just shot to hell being next to explosions? He shook his head and walked over to her. He gave her a quick nod. Without missing a beat she quietly said,

“You’re early. You’re never on set early.”

“Yeah. But I’m on time.”

“Last time you were two minutes late.” She looks down at her phone. He sees the music banner on her screen and asked,

“What are you listening to?” He was fishing, but maybe that would give him some ideas about what to get her

“Nothing.” She looked at him, a bit confused. “I was listening to something on my commute.”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned against a cart, only for it to move out from under him. He tipped over slightly before catching his balance and giving her a thumbs up. “That could’ve been bad.”

“Don’t get injured.” She replied. That was nice of her. “Our insurance won’t cover it.”

“Ouch.” He laughed, “I mean you’re probably right.”

“Not probably. I am right.” She sighed, “I appreciate your company, but I really need to finish setting up for the scene… Mark will be mad if I don’t.”

“First name basis with the director?’

She sighed again, even more exhausted, “Listen if those… guys from VFX sent you to spy on me. I swear I’ve never done anything immoral to keep my job… I just come to set, do my job and go home.”

“No that’s not why I’m here…” He tried to explain, but how could he without giving away that he was trying to get her something? “I’ll just… sit over there.”

“Thank you.” Her shoulders loosened up as he sat quietly in the corner of the studio. Other members of the crew filtered in, then the actors paraded in. She started talking with the star about some rewrites the writers had come up with and guided them through it. He crept closer to listen in, given that it might change his performance too. She raised an eyebrow as she saw him move into her line of sight, but decided to not do anything about it until one of the actors piped up about the intrusion. Surprisingly, no one said anything and they got to work filming. The director guided both Colt and the man he was doubling for on how to perform the stunt correctly, the angle and distance the camera would be to ensure no one saw the switch between the two. Colt nodded along as if he were paying attention and his eyes darted back to the PA. She looked to be underlining the script with due diligence.

“And action!”

Colt watched the scene until it was his time to step in. It was a basic fight scene with a fall, easy enough. He landed on the mat perfectly and rested on it for a moment, waiting for his back to crack as he pushed into the plush pad. When he got up he walked back over to behind the camera, seeing her with her teeth pressed down into her lips.

“You okay?” He asked her

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You want some coffee?” He asked in a way that wasn’t really a suggestion. She nodded and he guided her outside the studio. When she knew no one was looking at her she started to sob. Something in Colt’s heart broke seeing her completely shatter that he took her into his arms and held her. She seemed a bit confused by the gesture but wrapped her arms around his and cried. After a couple heaves and a tear stained shirt, he asked, “You want to talk about it?”

“I… sorry this shoot’s been a lot. Doesn’t help that Mark is fucking asshole.”

“Yeah.” He never noticed it, but the director was kind of a raging asshole when he thought about it. “The shoot’s done for the day, right?”

“Yeah.” She sighed, trying to regain her composure

“Why don’t I take you home?’

“Okay,” she said with a little grin. It wasn’t a date, per say. Colt considered it a mission to find out more about her when no one else on set seemed to care. He just knew when he saw something in her house it would click like that.

---

At the Christmas party, Colt was eager to give her her present. He’d grown to really like her and he noticed her more on set. There was some kind of change in her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. People talked behind her back still, but it was less about her being cold and her being ‘bossy’. Colt shrugged it all off because at the end of the day it really didn’t matter to him. His head kept turning instinctively towards the door every time someone came in, but she was nowhere to be seen. He almost decided to go home when he saw her walk in. Her hair was styled, but the curls were mostly deflated as she played with the ends at her shoulder. He waved at her and she caught his gaze, practically running over to him.

“Hi! So sorry I’m late,” she started to apologize to him, “I know I said I’d be on time…”

“It’s okay.” He smiled

“I just had to make sure my boyfriend, Nick… well he texted me that he had a flat tire…” She explained. Colt’s smile faded. He tried to pretend to be happy for her sake, but he hid the box behind his back.

“Is he okay?” He asked. It was polite, if a bit disinterested

“Yeah, he’s fine. He’s parking my car now.” She replied, looking over her shoulder

“That’s good. Glad you’re alright.”

“Thanks.” She smiled back at him. “Oh there he is.”

“I should let you go then…” He hesitated

“No, you two should meet, I think you’d really like him!” She pulled him over. “Hey hon.”

“There you are.” The other man pressed his lips onto her cheek once, then again on the other side. She hugged him tightly. It wasn’t personal, but Colt couldn’t help but see it as a reminder that she wasn’t his. From the looks of it, she’d never be his. After she pulled out of his reach, she turned to face Colt. She gestured towards her friend on set,

“Hon, this is Colt.”

“Nice to meet you.” Her boyfriend smiled back at him. He looked like he was in another world… Colt really couldn’t blame him. He held his hand out and Colt shook it loosely

“You as well,” He replied. He didn’t have much else to say to her boyfriend but he tried his best to keep a conversation going between the two of them while she went to grab a drink. She managed to find the person on the crew who she was Santa for and gave her her gift. They shared a quick hug and she came back to the two.

“I guess I should tell you, I was your Santa.” Colt rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand

“Oh!” She smiled, “Thank you. I’m sure whatever you got me is nice. You don’t have to give it to me right now if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, I seemed to misplace it…” He acted like he dropped it when he went to get a drink, but really he left it on the table everyone had discarded their presents on. “I was just gonna head out then. I’m all partied out.”

“Oh. Okay.” She nodded, “I get that… Let me see if I can find my present before you go though. I’ll just hold onto it.”

“Okay.” He smiled at her as she went to find his present. Sure enough, she found the little box and she brought it back with her

“I can’t wait to open it later.” She smiled as she held it between the palms of her hands

“Yeah, I hope you like it.” His words seemed to deflate as they left his lips. He turned around and left the party. He sat in his truck for a moment before riding home alone.

---

The next day that they needed him on set, production had promised it would be his last. He came in with thoughts running through his head. Would she be mad at him? Would she scream ‘how could you give me this’? He wasn’t sure how she’d react. Maybe he didn’t really know her enough to have wanted to ask her for a kiss. He walked into the studio and it felt like nothing had changed. He followed her directions, the scene was shot and it was time to go home. Before he could though, he felt a tug on his shirt sleeve from behind him.

“Hey.” She said

“Hi.” He replied

“I…”

“Listen. I’m sorry about my gift. I just thought that we were getting really close. And I was gonna ask you that night for a kiss.”

“I’m sorry.” She bit her lip, “We’d just gotten together a couple days before the party.”

“Oh.” His heart broke even more. “He seemed really nice though. I hope you’re happy.”

“I am now.” She nodded, “I… don’t think I would have been able to talk to him if we hadn’t met.”

“Oh.”

“That’s to say… I feel like I owe you something.”

“Whatever it is, let’s just call it even,” he took her hand off of him

“No I mean… Colt.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe… maybe it could have worked out.” She said after a moment of silence lingered in between them. She leaned in and pressed her lips onto his. He pulled away from her and looked at her. He had to walk away otherwise he’d never be able to live with the feeling in his chest of tearing her away from her happy ending. He dryly laughed and said,

“Well at least we weren’t under the mistleto…” She pulled the gift box from out of her pocket and held it out for him to see. He turned his back on her and walked away. She didn’t try to chase after him. Maybe they were better off this way after all.

#colt seavers #colt seavers x reader #wow my first one and it's light angst #humor and angst #light angst #my fic #my fic writing #my fanfic #the fall guy #the fall guy 2024 #ryan gosling character #ryan gosling #12 days of goosemas

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bookish-karina · 3 months

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Writing Share / Last Line / First Kiss Friday Tag!

thank you for all the tags @the-golden-comet (X2), @drchenquill , @willtheweaver , @rotting-moon-writes , and @gioiaalbanoart !

ahhhh okay so since I was tagged in a variety of these, I'm combining them! I've been playing around with how Jace and Maeve's first kiss is going to happen. I have so many ideas for this since it's a slow burn (and I'm little miss impatient when it comes to the slow burn burning) and the opportunities are limitless, please give me some feedback or a way you think it should happen (whether it's in a comment, reblog tags, ask, or private message)! bonus points if you've been reading the chapters as I've published them on AO3, which I know many of you have been (which thank you so so so much for all the love and support you have been giving me and Your Average Fangirl !! whenever I'm having a bad day at work, you never fail to make me want to cry happy tears at your comments, reblogs, kudos, etc)

without further ado, here's a first kiss scene <3

“Truth or dare?” Lucas asks, a small smirk dancing on the edges of his lips.

“Dare,” the word is out of my mouth before I can fully think of anything remotely gross he could dare me to do, being out in the middle of nowhere and all.

A full grin takes over his face as he says, “I dare you to sit in Jace’s lap,” he points towards where Jace sits to the right of me, “and make out with him for one full minute.”

“No way,” I laugh nervously. There’s no way he just suggested I make out with Jace. “That’s not gonna happen,” I shake my head.

Kai and Gabriel both laugh, shaking their heads at Lucas for such an inappropriate dare this soon in the game.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jace says to me before turning to Lucas, giving him a look I can’t decipher. “She doesn’t have to do that.”

“Come on,” Lucas taunts, “it’s just a dare.”

It’s just a dare. Except it’s not. I’m a fangirl, I’ve probably dreamt of this situation hundreds of times. But to actually do it? That’s too much pressure. Too much pressure to be perfect. In my head? I’m the perfect kisser. In reality? I could be mediocre. What if I ruin kissing for Jace?

“It’s just a dare,” Kai echoes, shrugging a shoulder as I meet his eyes.

“Come on, do it,” Lucas whines and I know he won’t drop it until I do.

With a deep, steadying breath, I get up and slowly walk over to Jace. His eyes widen as I lightly place my hand on his left shoulder.

“It’s just a dare, right? Meaningless?” I add the last part for his benefit, my heart beating so hard I swear I can feel the vibrations in my fingertips.

He nods, wetting his lips.

For some unknown reason, my heart sinks at his response. This is going to be meaningless. It doesn’t matter if I kiss him tonight or a year from now, I’ll only ever be a fan. A friend at most.

I gently crawl onto Jace’s lap and he moves so that I’m straddling him, my legs dangling on either side of his hips. His friends start hooting and hollering as I remind myself one last time that this means absolutely nothing.

Then, I lower my lips onto his.

The kiss starts slow, gentle, but my heart never slows down as his hands roam my body. His fingers dive into my hair as he pulls me impossibly closer, deepening the kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck as I lean into him, letting him take control.

His hands slide down my back and his fingers tickle the bare skin on my lower back, causing me to shiver at the sensation.

Jace smiles against my lips before pulling away and kissing a line down my jaw, where he finds the sweet spot on my neck and starts peppering it with kisses.

A timer goes off loudly, causing me to jump away from him and land harshly on the ground in front of his chair.

My chest heaves up and down in quick breaths as I refuse to look up at Lucas, Kai, and Gabriel, who are all laughing and clapping as if they’ve watched the best show.

I run my fingers through the grass, reminding myself of what’s real. What just happened, everything I just felt, it wasn’t real. It was meaningless. It practically never happened.

After a few more minutes of trying to calm my heart, I get up and walk quickly to the tour bus before slamming the door shut and burying myself into the covers in my bunk. Embarrassing. That was so embarrassing.

basically what I was going for with this scene is that Lucas knows there's something going on between Maeve and Jace (whether that's from mere observation or Jace confiding in him) and he knows nothing will happen unless he forces their hand a little. he bands together with Kai and Gabriel to egg them on into doing this, not thinking that he may be harming what could've happened naturally. he's definitely the golden retriever of the group, though!

one song I really associate with this scene for some reason is Dead Inside by LØLØ, which I'll link here :)

if you want another version of their first kiss, let me know!!

also no pressure tagging @romances-not-tragedies @wyked-ao3 @katenewmanwrites @kaylinalexanderbooks + an open tag

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themculibrary · 27 days

Text

Baby Groot/Groot Masterlist

A Good Team (ao3) - FormlessVoidbeast groot/rocket M, 2k

Summary: Rocket and Groot make a good team, and Groot isn't going to let a little thing like completely incompatible biology prevent them from taking very good care of each other.

always, really and forever (ao3) - Cyndi M, 26k

Summary: Friendship is the most understated form of love.

Groot’s quest to understand love goes awry when Rocket ends up in the hospital because of his out-of-control drinking. Without his social crutch around, Groot suddenly finds himself having to prove his competence again and again.

A Short List of Relevant Skills and Abilities (ao3) - ignipes T, 2k

Summary: They're very good at a lot of things, but none of those things are very good.

family (ao3) - Groot (grootiez) T, 10k

Summary: When Rocket tries to enroll Groot into a prestigious preschool, he discovers the people in charge there don’t have Groot’s best interests in mind. When they forcibly remove Groot from the only family that he’s ever known, Rocket will stop at nothing in order to get him back.

But time is of the essence: If Rocket fails to prove that Groot should be reunited with his family and that Rocket should be given full parental rights and allowed to formally adopt Groot as his son, they might never see Groot ever again.

Found Family (ao3) - fabrega G, 2k

Summary: "Where did it come from?"

"I am Groot," Groot declares.

"Who would just hand you a baby?!"

Freedom Day (ao3) - Cyndi groot/rocket T, 35k

Summary: Groot and Rocket are friends who have each others' backs and take care of each other no matter what. Now what are they celebrating and why are they celebrating? (Autistic!Groot)

good night (ao3) - HippieGeekGirl G, 376

Summary: Groot can’t sleep, and Rocket needs a little comfort.

Grow, Grow, Grow (ao3) - Eclectic_Goddess G, 715

Summary: Self-realization should be a shocking thing. Instead, it comes slowly and steadily. With each bud, each new leaf, each new bit of growth brings more with it, until…

Groot.

Growing Up Groot (ao3) - Groot (grootiez) T, 6k

Summary: After The Battle of Xandar, Rocket mourns the loss of the only person in the galaxy that has ever cared about him. In a tribute, Rocket plants some twigs that came from his friend’s body to keep as a memory of their friendship. Little does Rocket know, that he will gain a new friend.

I Can Fix This (ao3) - laylabinx T, 6k

Summary: "I can fix this, Quill; just you watch. I can fix this. We'll be out of here in no time." Rocket rambles because he's afraid if he doesn't, he'll suddenly realize how totally and utterly screwed they are.

i’ll be there for you (ao3) - Izzyaro (Isilarma) T, 2k

Summary: If Rocket has faith in anything, it’s that Groot will never let him down.

name game (ao3) - SPARROWFOOT N/R, 6k

Summary: Peter, Drax, Mantis, Groot, Nebula, and Rocket. A bunch’a jackasses sitting in a circle. The core Guardians of the Galaxy, sans Gamora, and — yeah, that will never not sting. So it’s probably for the best that they find their own path, but Peter’s always found it hard to let go of the past. The Guardians will live on, and they will always be family, but they’ll never be this group, in this time, ever again.

“Alright, alright,” Rocket says, with a half-assed attempt at his usual swagger. “Here’s how this is gonna work. We’re gonna, one at a time, name a raccoon baby.” He reaches into the box, pulling one away from the pack. Its little paws knead at the air, trying to find a surface. “Then we’re gonna tag it. Then they’re gonna get to run free ‘round Knowhere until they’ve grown enough to go home.”

Before the Guardians formally disband, Rocket asks one last thing of them all.

of groots and death buttons (ao3) - Groot (grootiez) T, 4k

Summary: Groot is a fast learner. However, when it comes to a certain weapon that Rocket taught Groot how to build for himself, it is Rocket’s responsibility to teach Groot how to handle said weapon as to not put others at risk of death or bodily harm.

The Care and Feeding of a Baby Groot (ao3) - JenTheSweetie T, 1k

Summary: If Rocket wanted to babysit a stick in a pot, that was his business.

We Are (ao3) - Psilent (HereThereBeFic) N/R, 1k

Summary: “I hope you don't mind that I come here. I... appreciate your company. And the quiet.”

(For a prompt on the Guardians of the Galaxy livejournal kink meme: Five (or four) times Groot comforted one of the Guardians and one time they comforted him.)

you’re still young, that’s your fault. (ao3) - DigitalMeowMix T, 3k

Summary: Trying to raise your best friend after he’s turned into a child is hard work. This is definitely not what Rocket signed up for. He just wants his damn partner back.

Scenes from an unconventional parenthood

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #guardians of the galaxy #groot #groot masterlist #family

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uhohwhathaveidone · 2 years

Note

Can I request Sebastian x m!Hufflepuff MC

Them spending their first date in Hogsmeade :>

HiHi! There was another request asking for a M!Hufflepuff mc with their first kiss with Sebastian and I smashed them together and this was the product!

First Date (S.S)

I've never been on a date but if I did it would be to an art museum, probably. I visited a whole bunch one time maybe 2-3 years ago, was very fun. And again, I know I said maybe yesterday that this would be late, I didn't mean to be this late! I hope you enjoy <3 Why do I keep the reader and Sebastian bantering, I will never know. Also, I wanted to tag this on AO3 with hand holding and? That was not an option, ya nasties.

You smiled as you followed Sebastian down the path to Hogsmeade, your scarf blowing into your face as a cold breeze blew by. “Should we go out today? It’s a rather cold day out.” You said, speeding up to walk beside Sebastian. He shook his head as he smirked at you. “Chickening out already? We haven’t even walked into the village yet!” He laughed, making your cheeks heat up. “I am not chickening out! I just don’t want to get a cold while we’re out here.” You said, shaking your head as you wrapped your yellow and black scarf tighter around you. “Those are the words of someone trying to get out of a date with his favourite person, you know.” You sighed, giving up as you raised your hands in defense. “Fine, but if you get sick, I told you so. Hate to get sick on a date, though.” Sebastian chuckled in response, pointing to the sign that read Hogsmeade. “Just up ahead, last chance to back out.” Sebastian said, turning back as he raised his brows at you. You shook your head as you walked past him, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him into the village. “Now you sound like you’re trying to get out of a date.”

Sebastian led the way as he pointed to Honeydukes, smiling at you in a way to ask if you wanted to head in. You smiled back, nodding as you made your way to the entrance. You were hit with a mix of sweet scents as you walked through the door, the warm atmosphere greeting the two of you. “We should pick up some sweets, I hear that the Fizzing Whizbees are really good!” Sebastian stated, grabbing your hand, and pulling you to where the balls of sherbet were. “What are they, exactly?” You asked, peering into the container. Sebastian shrugged as he picked out a few, handing some change to the cashier. “Only one way to find out, hm?” He asked, holding out the treat for you to take. You smiled nervously as you took it from his hand, watching Sebastian pop the candy into his mouth before taking a bite yourself. You smiled in excitement as it began to pop in your mouth, a tangy orange taste mixing with the sherbet base as you chewed. Sebastian furrowed his brows in confusion as his eyes widened, not expecting the fizzling pop that now invaded his mouth. “Popping candy? That’s a new one.” He said, covering his mouth as he spoke to not drop any of the treat. You nodded, enjoying the sweet yet tangy delight as you watched Sebastian’s face change with each new pop.

You pointed to another shelf of candy as you walked past Sebastian, picking up a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. “Say’s here that you could get popcorn or…. earwax? How would you even?” You said, reading off the box as Sebastian walked over. “Are you afraid of some earwax?” You raised a brow at him, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Definitely not. But could you handle…. Squid ink?” Sebastian frowned in disgust, grabbing the box from your hand as he read the flavours. “Squid ink? Who would ever want to risk that?” You shrugged, paying for the box and turning to Sebastian, motioning for him to open it. “I’m not eating these with you.” He said, handing you the box. You frowned as you bit the inside of your cheek. “Sounds like you’re afraid you’ll get all the gross flavours. But it’s fine, I’ll just eat these on my own.” You shrugged, picking out a bean and popping it into your mouth. Sebastian watched you in horror, taking the box from your hands and looking at the label. “You didn’t even check what that could have been! You could be eating grass right now, you know.” You shrugged, smiling as the taste of green apple started appearing as you bit the candy in half. “I’m already winning.” You said, pointing to the green bean on the back of the box. “Green Apple.” “You’re a crazy man, you know that right?” You shrugged, offering a piece to Sebastian. He sighed as he took it, eyeing it suspiciously. “Which one is this?” You looked at the box, smirking. “Blueberry.” “Go on.” “Or soap.” Sebastian let out a frustrated sigh as he popped the candy into his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut as he prepared for the worst. You watched him, smiling as he opened his eyes in confusion. “It doesn’t taste like either of those things. Are you sure you read it right?” You shrugged, looking at the box again. “What do you taste, then?” Sebastian frowned, taking in the taste as he tried to put a name to it. “Earthy? It doesn’t really have a taste, to be honest.” You snorted, covering your mouth as your shoulders shook. Sebastian frowned at you, snatching the box from your hand. “Dirt?! You didn’t say it would be dirt!” You continued to laugh as you shook your head. “I didn’t read that far, I figured those were the only two options!” Sebastian sighed, closing the box up and placing it into his bag. “I’m going to grab us some Sugar Quills for the road, please don’t try anymore strange candy, yeah?” You nodded, smirking as you looked at another shelf containing Chocolate Frogs.

You chatted with Sebastian as you walked down the cobbled path, looking at shops as you passed by. “I’m feeling quite parched from all that candy, what about you, Sebastian?” You asked, nodding in the direction of The Three Broomsticks. Sebastian thought for a moment before nodding. “I could go for a Butterbeer, I’ll buy for us.” You shook your head as you walked over to the doors. “I’m buying, it was my idea.” You said, opening the door for Sebastian. He scoffed, shaking his head as he waved to Sirona. “The date was my idea, so naturally I feel like I should be the one buying for you.” You sighed as you walked over to a table in the corner of the tavern, smiling as Sirona made her way over to you. “Welcome back! What can I get you lads?” You went to open your mouth, only for Sebastian to put his hand on your shoulder as he smirked. “Two butterbeers, please. I’ll be paying for it too, so don’t ask him if he wants the bill.” You looked at Sirona, tight lipped as you sent her pleading looks. She smiled as she nodded, leaving to make the drinks for you. “You are impossible to deal with some times, you know that?” You asked, looking over at Sebastian. He shrugged, smirking at you. Sirona came back with the drinks as she sat them down, sending you a good luck wink before returning to the bar.

“Look at that! Never in my life have I seen something more beautiful.” Sebastian sighed, taking one of the drinks as he smiled. You shook your head as you took a sip, smiling as you tasted the butterscotch. You glanced over to Sebastian as you set the drink down, coughing as he smiled at you, pointing at the foamy moustache he had received from the drink. “It suits you, though I doubt you’d be able to grow one as marvelous as that.” You joked, shaking your head as he frowned. “I would certainly be able to grow a moustache like this, and it’d be even better.” He scoffed, wiping the foam onto his sleeve as he looked over at you. You took another sip of your drink, feeling the soft foam at the top decorating your lip as you sat it down again. “You know, I think mine might be better.” You said, smiling. Sebastian shook his head as he crossed his arms. “We can’t both have a cool looking moustache. So, leave that to me, yeah?” You shook your head. “No way. I look way better with one.” Sebastian sighed, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I suppose you do.” He muttered, biting the inside of his cheek. You smirked, straightening up in triumph as the foam began to drip off your lip. You quickly wiped it off as you chuckled. “What else do you want to do? We have the whole day, you know.” Sebastian asked, resting his head in his hand. You brought a finger up to your chin, pretending to ponder his question. “You didn’t plan very far ahead, did you?” “To be fair, I didn’t think you’d actually agree to something like this.” “And yet I did.”

Sebastian paid Sirona for the drinks as the two of you left the tavern, looking around for the next shop to visit. “How about Madam Puddifoot's? Might find some new tea blends we could try.” You offered, gesturing to the small tea shop. Sebastian nodded as the two of you walked over. “Our supply in the Undercroft is getting low, it would be best if we refilled it before Ominis got upset.” You smiled as you walked into the shop, the strong aroma of different blends of tea leaves mixing as they filled your senses. “Well, that wasn’t here the last time I visited.” Sebastian whispered, picking up a bag of tea leaves as he read the label. “What kind of tea is it?” You asked, looking over his shoulder. “Butterbeer. Apparently, it’s new.” You picked up the teacup with a sample of the leaves inside, sniffing it. “It certainly smells like butterbeer. Perhaps we could try it out?” You breathed, continuing to smell the leaves as vanilla and butterscotch warmed the air. Sebastian shrugged, keeping the bag in his hand as he looked through the other bags of tea. “What kind of tea would you want? I’m sure you have a cup or two in your dorm.” He said, peering at the different bags. You looked with him, biting your lip as you browsed the different flavours. “Elderflower tea is rather good; I could make some for us every now and then.” You said, picking up the bag labeled with a flower. Sebastian gently took the bag from your hand as he studied it, reading the ingredients. “Elderflower blossoms, good choice if I say so myself.” He said, sending you a smile as he handed the shopkeeper some coins. “Where to next then?”

You gently pet the small Pygmy Puff as you softly cooed at it, its big eyes looking up at you. You called for Sebastian, gesturing for him to join you. “Look how fluffy it is! Most of it is just fur too, without it this little guy is probably the size of a small mouse.” You said, patting the fluff that surrounded the creature. Sebastian looked at it skeptically, slowly raising a hand to pat its soft fur. “Is it a Hufflepuff thing, liking these kinds of creatures?” He asked, eyes widening as you shifted the Pygmy Puff into his hands. “I wonder if I could keep him as a pet?” You asked yourself, walking over to the shopkeeper. Sebastian sighed as he looked down at the small puff of pink fur. “You’re almost as cute as he is, you know. Almost.” He said, poking the top of its head with a finger. It squeaked at him, as if it understood what he said, turning around in his hand and looking back at the cage it came from. “Oh, did I insult you? My apologies. You can go back if you wish.” You stood behind Sebastian, smiling softly as he talked to the Puff, gently placing it back into its cage. “What did you say to upset him?” You asked, causing Sebastian to jump. “You can’t do that! What if I had that thing in my hands still?” He gasped, frowning at you as you laughed. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Let’s go, it’ll get dark soon.” Sebastian looked back at the Pygmy Puff, furrowing his brows. “I thought you wanted to keep it?” He asked, following behind you. You nodded as you opened the door, slipping out with Sebastian. “I did, but the shopkeeper said that he was a bit stubborn. Told me to come back another day and have a look.” Sebastian scoffed as he shook his head. “Stubborn is right.”

You continued to walk around the village, checking out a few more shops that caught your eye. Sebastian smirked as he pointed to the Shrieking Shack, watching as you shook your head. “Absolutely not, they say it’s actually haunted!” You said, stopping at the trail that led up to it. Sebastian scoffed as he walked ahead a bit, turning around as he raised a brow. “Scared of some ghosts? One of our professors is a ghost, you know. You can’t be that scared.” He said, crossing his arms. You shook your head as you frowned. “I’m not scared of ghosts, but it isn’t even time for scary stuff yet. You’re the one that gets scared easily anyway, how do I know you’re not using that as a ploy to grab onto me?” Sebastian felt heat rush to his cheeks as he dramatically placed a hand to his chest. “Me? A ploy? If anything, you’d be the one holding onto me.” You scoffed, walking up to him with a brave face. “If you’re so sure, then let’s find out, yeah?” “After you then.”

You stayed close to Sebastian as you sneaked into the building, going through a door in the back. Cobwebs littered the corners of the walls, and you felt the urge to sneeze as you kicked up some dust. “So much for being scary, seems like it’s just an abandoned workshop or something similar.” Sebastian sighed, looking around. You shook your head as you followed him, the hair at the back of your neck stiff as you turned the corner. “Perhaps the ghosts are taking a break?” You said, shrugging as you stood next to Sebastian. He sighed, taking a final look around the room before turning around. “I guess we will never know if you would grab me if you were scared. A shame really.” You lightly swatted his shoulder, puffing your cheeks. “I knew it was just a ploy! You were never good at hiding your plans, Sebastian.” You said, turning to see Sebastian in the doorway, frozen. “Sebastian? Come on, I can’t move it you’re in the way.” You sighed, grabbing his shoulder. “Shut up.” “What?” “Look.” Sebastian pointed to a corner of the hall, a rocking chair by the window occupied it. “It’s a chair, Sebastian. You’re not telling me you’re afraid of a lone chair.” He covered your mouth with his hand as he kept pointing, your eyes widening as it rocked slightly. You grabbed Sebastian’s hand from your mouth as you got closer to him, whispering. “Maybe it’s just a draft? It’s pretty common in old houses.” He shook his head, still watching the chair as it slowly rocked. You sighed as you watched it with him, glancing over at him every so often in confusion. “Okay, maybe it is just a draft. Let’s get going, then.” He breathed, releasing the breath he had been holding. You nodded, taking the lead as you walked toward the door. You reached for the handle, about to turn it when a crash sounded behind you. Your eyes widened as you quickly turned, met with Sebastian who grabbed onto you, pulling you with him as he opened the door and ran outside.

You stood outside the shack with your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath. Sebastian stood next to you, shaking his head. “What was that? That wasn’t a draft back there!” You shook your head, smiling as you looked over at him. “What are you smiling about?” He asked, his cheeks red as he tried to steady his heart. “You grabbed me. Looks like you were the scared one.” You breathed, your shoulders shaking as you laughed. “I was trying to get us out, thank you very much. If anything, you squeezed my hand until just a moment ago, I can already feel it bruise.” You shook your head as you straightened up, walking over to Sebastian with a smile. “Sure. Come on, I’m starving.” “You’re starving after all that?” “Wasn’t scary. If anything, it was funny to see you so scared.” “Shut up.”

The two of you sat at a table in the Hog’s Head, talking as you ate. “You should have seen your face; it was like Professor Sharp caught you sleeping in his class. Pure horror.” Sebastian scoffed, chewing his food. “Laugh it up, next time you’ll be the one running away with your tail between your legs.” You smiled, taking a sip of your drink. “I look forward to the day that happens.” You continued to eat as the warm air kept you cozy and away from the dropping temperatures outside, Sebastian’s cheeks were slightly pink as the two of you talked. “Would you want to head back to the Undercroft after this? I’m not sure how late it is, but if we make it back in time we could still hang out before we have to be back in our common rooms.” He asked, glancing over at you as you nodded. “I would like that, but I’m not sure we will have time for it, we’re already pushing curfew as we speak.” Sebastian sighed as he nodded in agreement, looking down at his empty plate. “I suppose you’re right. We should head back then.” You nodded, standing up and walking over to one of the servers, smiling at Sebastian as you paid for dinner. He scrunched his nose as he watched you, glaring at you playfully when you walked back. “Shall we head off, then?” You asked, offering your hand. Sebastian flushed a bit as he nodded, taking your hand as the two of you walked out of the pub. You shivered as the cold air bit your nose, causing you to shuffle closer to Sebastian as you walked.

“You wouldn’t be so cold if you had your scarf on properly, you know.” Sebastian stated, stopping in the middle of the trail back to Hogwarts as he turned to you. You huffed in response, your face heating up as Sebastian unwrapped your scarf, sighing to himself as he wrapped it around you properly. You shivered once again as you rubbed your hands together, the cold breeze that had blown through making both of your noses red. “I’d offer my scarf to you as well, but then you’d be blind. Although,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek as he looked over at you. He took your scarf once again, causing you to frown. “If you keep taking my scarf, I’ll be a popsicle before we even make it to the castle.” You huffed, crossing your arms. Sebastian shook his head as he took his own scarf off, wrapping the Slytherin styled fabric around you instead. “Mine’s warmer, trust me.” He said, taking your scarf and wrapping it around his own neck before taking your hand again. You blushed as you pushed the scarf up with your shoulders, covering your cold nose with the fabric. Somehow, it did feel warmer. Perhaps the Slytherin’s got specially made scarves for them, or maybe it was because it came from Sebastian, but you didn’t question it. You smiled as you breathed in the lingering scent that Sebastian had, hints of cedar and smoke soaked into the warm fabric.

You sneaked around the halls as you made your way back to the Hufflepuff common room, Sebastian walking next to you. “I don’t see any Prefects around, perhaps curfew hasn’t started yet.” He said, pulling you behind him as you walked up a flight of stairs. “No one really sneaks around the Hufflepuff common room either, so I doubt they need to stick around for long.” You whispered, pointing down a hall that led to your house. Sebastian sighed as he slowed down, taking his time as he walked with you towards the barrels that led to the cozy interior of the common room. “You’re stalling.” You smirked, glancing over at Sebastian. His freckled cheeks turned a light pink as he shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m walking at a normal pace, thank you very much.” You chuckled as you kept hold of his hand, basking in the dim lights of the hall and the warmth in your face. You reached the entrance shortly after, and you stood there awkwardly as you said good night to Sebastian. “This was fun, right?” He asked, avoiding your gaze as he looked around at the walls. You nodded, grabbing his shoulder. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be. I wouldn’t want to be with any other Slytherin.” Sebastian glared at you for a moment, raising a brow. “Just a Slytherin?” You chuckled as you shook your head. “Not just a Slytherin, of course. I had a lot of fun, though. Perhaps we should plan for another one soon?” Sebastian’s cheeks grew darker at the thought, stuttering out a response. “I- yeah! I mean, yeah. Sure. Whenever you want?” You nodded, blushing as you moved closer to Sebastian, placing your lips onto his in a small kiss.

Sebastian stiffened up at first, not expecting the sudden contact, but he quickly melted into the kiss, placing a hand to your cheek. His soft, perhaps a little chapped, lips tasted like a mix of butterbeer and dinner, both of which you had in the past hour, and you smiled. You continued the kiss for a few moments longer, pulling away for air as the two of you smiled. “You can keep the scarf; it looks good on you.” Sebastian breathed, adjusting the scarf around your neck. You nodded, poking your scarf that decorated his neck. “You can keep that one too, it’s a nice pop of colour compared to the dark wardrobe you usually wear.” He chuckled, placing another kiss to your lips before waving to you as he walked away.

#sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow imagine #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hufflepuff reader #harry potter imagine #hogwarts legacy fluff #hogwarts legacy imagine #hand holding #soft Sebastian #first kiss #first date too #male reader

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verai-marcel · 7 months

Text

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 21 of 28)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

AO3 Link is here, darling.

Word Count: 4,513

—————————————

Act II, Chapter 9 - The Artifact

As everyone packed their things and got ready to leave for the Gate, you realized that you had a new party member.

Jaheira had decided to accompany you to help defeat the Chosen of the Dead Three. She had said she couldn’t stand and watch some young brats make the same mistakes she did when she went against the Bhaalspawn.

Halsin had rejoined your party as well; he had promised your group that he would lend his aid in defeating the Absolute before returning to help rebuild Thaniel’s land. It was the least he could when everyone had helped him remove the curse.

And so now, with two druids along for the journey, you carried on to the city, despite your own misgivings about returning to a place where you might be recognized.

It’s been three years. Perhaps no one will remember me. I was only here for a tenday, after all.

It should have been a straight shot to the bridge that led to Baldur’s Gate. But just as you all had attempted to pass through, a gang of githyanki warriors ambushed you. But after having a good night’s sleep, your friends were invigorated and took them out quickly.

Lae’zel didn’t seem surprised by the attack. You spoke quietly to her as the group continued down the road and discovered that she had been visited by one of the other githyanki shortly before your group entered the Underdark. You had been sound asleep, apparently. She had met with the one you had seen flying a red dragon when you had just started traveling with them. You thought the brothel was a strange place to meet, but you figured clandestine meetings were probably commonplace there.

As you left the Shadowlands, you felt a soft tingling along your spine. It felt more like a gentle touch, like someone running their fingers delicately along your skin. You turned to see the huge tree that had been blackened and rotting suddenly glow and bloom, life returning to it in a sudden wave of growth. Light was returning to the land, and your friends had helped make it happen. You turned to the others, who had also stopped and were looking back, satisfied smiles on their faces.

The day passed on the road, chatting away, almost as if you all weren’t about to face the biggest threat to the city in nearly a century. You managed to pull Shadowheart aside and spoke with her separately from the others about what had happened in the temple.

It took her a bit to open up, but once she started to tell you, everything came pouring out. Her refusal to kill the Nightsong. Her decision to trust her instincts for once and not blindly do what Shar asked of her. What Dame Aylin told her last night in the inn.

“When we get to the city, I want to start searching for my parents.”

You held her hand. You had not put on your gloves today, on a whim. You were glad, for you felt a determination, strong and clear. The haze that you had always sensed in her emotions before was now gone, replaced by a clean clarity, like spring water. “I’ll help you, in any way I can.”

Shadowheart smiled warmly at you. “Thank you. For always being here for us. For me.” She squeezed your hand in return. “There is… one thing, I’d like your help with. I’ll tell you when we make camp tonight.”

***

You were halfway to the city when night fell, so you set up a camp a little ways off the main road. There was an abandoned house surrounded by red grasses and red-leaved trees. It was a beautiful area, not quite healed, but not quite dead either. You supposed it was because it looked like autumn had come to all the foliage that made it look so alluring to you.

Setting up the campfire, you were about to sing your fire cantrip when it suddenly lit on its own.

You felt a harsh sting at the base of your spine, and you quickly turned around. The air shimmered and Raphael appeared, all smirks and slimy grins.

“Oh? And where’s your pet?”

Your brow wrinkled. “He’s not my pet.”

His gaze focused on something over your shoulder. “Could have fooled me, with how quickly he’s coming to your side.”

You didn’t take your eyes off the devil, only listening for Astarion as he marched right up next to you.

“We delivered the devil. Now I want what I’m owed. We had a deal.”

Raphael sneered. “Indeed we did.”

You listened quietly, taking in everything that the devil was saying. It was horrendous. When Raphael disappeared with a flamboyant snap of his fingers and a plume of infernal smoke, you turned to Astarion.

He frowned. “Hmmm.”

You stepped closer and took his hand in yours. His emotions were a jumble of confusion.

“What do you think I should do?” he asked you in a quiet murmur.

You thought about how hard it was to feel free when you were constantly looking over your shoulder. “You’ll never be free while Cazador lives.”

“I hate how right you are.” He paused, thinking. “I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone even when I was just another wretched toy for him to play with. But if I’m the key to this power he craves, he’ll hunt me to the ends of Faerûn.”

You squeezed his hand.

Astarion let out a resigned sigh. “I need to take the fight to him.”

“Let’s ask the others for help.”

He looked at you, unsure.

Tugging on his arm, you led him to the others sitting by the campfire.

“No need to ask,” Gale suddenly said as you and Astarion sat down. “We’ll help you, Astarion.”

He blinked. “I…” Taking a small breath, he bowed his head. “Thank you.”

Karlach came over and sat beside him, lightly punching his arm. “C’mon now, did you really think we’d let that arsehole take you away from us?”

“And we’d be doing the city a favor,” Wyll mentioned. “I can’t in good conscience let someone like that become even more powerful.”

You watched Astarion, clearly still not used to having friends, awkwardly accept everyone’s offer to help.

Aww. I’m happy for him.

As everyone sat by the campfire, you mentally tallied up all of the things your friends wanted, and needed, to do. Visit the arcane bookstore to research the crown. Find Shadowheart’s parents. Kill Cazador. Beat the shit out of Gortash and take his netherstone. Find Orin and take her netherstone. Destroy (or control) the elder brain.

So many tasks. At the end of the day, it sounded like a laundry list for legendary heroes, not average folk.

But looking around at your friends, you thought, perhaps they could become legendary. After all, they all had harsh pasts that forced them to grow stronger, wiser, bolder, than anyone you had ever met before.

So why am I here?

The night went on, and the others began to head off to bed. You cleaned up and went to Shadowheart’s tent and asked her what she needed help with.

“I… I want to change my hair.”

You blinked. “Sure, of course.” Looking at her dark braid, you imagined the possibilities. Luscious wavy locks? A cute bob cut? “You have an idea in mind?”

“Well… I think I’d like to change the color, mostly.”

You blinked. “To… what?”

She looked up at the moonlight. “Perhaps something that suits my… heritage.”

Ah, Selune. Oh! “I have an idea.”

You sang your illusion spell, the one you had learned from Gale a while back. But now you could manipulate it to change aspects of the image, and with a few hummed notes, you could change how her hair looked in the image. She selected one that looked similar to her current style, but in silver.

“Alright, I apologize if this doesn’t work exactly how you imagine.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

You took a deep breath. Gods, I hope this works.

Then you sang. It was a soft song, one that grew out her bangs to mid-length, and changed her dark strands to platinum, the darkness ebbing away from her roots to the tips, as if you were singing away the shadows from her hair. When you finished, you grabbed her mirror and held it up to her. “What do you think?”

You held your breath as she turned her head one way, then another, her gaze critical.

Finally, she smiled. “I love it.” She turned and hugged you. “It’ll take some getting used to, but… it feels right.”

You hugged her tightly in return. “I’m glad.” Stepping back, you gently touched her braid. “It really does suit you.” Then you waggled your eyebrows. “Be sure that you ask Gale what he thinks in the morning. Or tonight.”

Shadowheart lightly slapped your arm, but shared your laughter.

***

“Are you quite done with your ladies night?”

You raised an eyebrow at Astarion, who was sitting inside of his tent, lounging back on a cushion, sipping a goblet of wine and reading a book.

“Are you jealous that we didn’t invite you?” you asked as you sat next to him.

“What do you think?”

“I think you were.”

He put his goblet down, grabbed his hair brush, and handed it to you silently.

You smiled. “You were.” Quietly brushing his hair while he relaxed under your touch, you realized after a while that he had placed his book down. You leaned over to look at his face.

His eyes were closed, his lips curved slightly, contentedness flowing from him.

“When’s the last time you fed?”

He answered after a few moments. “Yesterday, I think.”

You placed your wrist in front of his mouth. “Here.”

Gently, Astarion grasped your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist. He lightly ran his fangs along your skin.

You could feel his hunger, and his delight. And something simmering beneath those emotions, something darker, more primal. Bracing yourself for the pain, you took a deep breath.

“Thank you for this meal,” he said in a reverent whisper before biting down. It stung, as always, but the emotions you had felt before became more intense. Your whole body felt like it lurched with the sensations, and you could feel your heart suddenly racing, both from his eagerness to feed, and also from the intimacy of the act.

You weren’t sure how long he fed from you, but when he let go, he kissed your wound. “I have a vial of healing potion near those books in the corner,” he said. “Just for you.”

You poured a few drops of the potion on your wrist, then you lay down, almost curling up around him like a cat.

Astarion chuckled. “You’re like a kitten,” he murmured, commenting on your body language.

“Meow,” you said playfully.

He reached up and undid the leather strip that kept your bun together. He ran one hand through your hair, letting it cascade around his hand. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

You blinked and looked up at him. “Erm, thank you.”

His expression looked pained, and you could feel a slight tinge of guilt through his touch. “So beautiful it almost hurts,” he whispered.

Frowning, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him down beside you. You stared into his eyes, trying to figure out why he would say such a thing. Oh. I think I know why. “What would take that hurt away?”

He looked sad. “I don’t know.”

You gently pressed your forehead against his. “Perhaps a chaste kiss?”

You were half-joking, but he looked at you with such hope that you immediately felt bad.

“Can you imagine?” he whispered. “I’ve bedded thousands. And yet the thought of a mere kiss with you sends my heart aflame.”

Cupping his cheek, you smiled. “That’s because I’m special.”

“That you are.”

He and you both leaned in slowly, eyes closing as your lips came into contact. There was a spark, a flash of white hot heat that lasted half a moment before it melted into a soft warmth. You pulled away first, not wanting to risk anything further.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered open. “Perfection.”

You smiled. “You liar.”

He chuckled softly as he pulled you in close and settled in to trance. “About you? Never.”

***

You awoke in his arms again, and together you broke down the tent before you went to help clean and pack up camp for the rest of the journey.

After another day of eventless travel, you found an abandoned fort as night fell, and decided that although you were a stone’s throw away from the city’s outer limits, there was no reason to exhaust yourselves so soon when there would be fierce battles ahead. After setting up the campsite, you climbed up to the tower and stared at the city lights. It had been a while since you’d been here. Over three years, and to you, Baldur’s Gate still looked the same.

I wonder if Waterdeep looks any different now than when I left. Not that I would ever go back. Not unless I knew that masked lord was dead.

Taking in the view for a few minutes more, you finally turned and headed back down the ladder to the campfire, where Shadowheart and Gale were setting up the kindling.

“Shall I light it up?” Gale asked, his hand raised, ready to cast a cantrip.

“Sure,” Shadowheart replied, and while you quietly stood back and watched, Gale snapped his fingers, waved his hand, and murmured some words you couldn’t hear, his eyes never leaving hers.

Alright Shadowheart, I see why you fell for him.

Setting the campfire ablaze, Gale leaned a little closer to the cleric, their arms brushing against one another.

You tried to slip away, but you accidentally stepped on some dry leaves. Gods, could I have been any more cliché?

They both turned to you.

“How long have you been there?” Shadowheart asked as Gale stepped away from her.

Argh, I’m sorry Gale. “I was just walking past, so only a second or two.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“She was lying?”

Both of you looked at Gale.

You’re so smart, and yet so dumb. “I was trying to be discreet,” you said as you turned to Shadowheart. “Isn’t that what you taught me?”

She laughed. “I did, and I appreciate the effort.” Taking Gale’s hand, she smiled. “But… I think it’s alright now.”

Gale looked back at her in surprise.

“Besides, everyone in camp already knows,” you said with a laugh.

Gale continued to look surprised.

Oh my gods, Gale. “Anyway, I can’t wait to see you two holding hands openly now.”

When the supper was ready and everyone sat down together to eat, Karlach gasped and pointed at the two lovebirds holding hands, like a little girl excitedly seeing something cute.

“Oh my gosh, finally!”

Gale and Shadowheart blushed. The others only laughed.

“I told you, everyone knew already,” you said, passing out glasses of wine to everyone. “A toast, to friends, to love, and to beating up bad guys.”

Everyone heartily cheered and had a few more glasses before supper was over. While you cleaned up, everyone was relaxing by the fire, amicably chatting away. It was peaceful and nice.

But you felt a foreboding, deep down in your gut. And on your seal, to be honest. And for some reason, every time you focused on the lines of magic, there was always some kind of thread leading back to Shadowheart. Or more specifically, her pack.

Could it be…?

Finally, you could no longer resist your curiosity. You knew she kept some kind of strange artifact on her person, everyone knew about it. The others hadn’t told you too much about it, other than it contained a power that was helping them resist transforming into a mind flayer. So you went up to Shadowheart after you finished your chores.

“Can I… see your artifact?”

She looked surprised. “Why?”

“I…” You paused. You realized that only Astarion knew about your seal. “Um, just curious. You all have spoken about it here and there, and I realized that I had never seen it up close.”

She raised an eyebrow, but pulled it out of her pack and showed it to you. “You can look, but I don’t think you should touch it. It might… react poorly.”

You could tell she was lying, but you weren’t sure why.

As you approached, it glowed, power pulsing along its creases. Your seal pulsed in response, and you stepped back. “Oh, wow. Alright, well, it does seem a bit… dangerous.”

Shadowheart nodded as she put it away. “It’s the only thing keeping us from transforming into brain suckers, but it’s certainly brought us trouble along the way.”

“Ah, that’s true. Well, thank you for indulging my curiosity,” you finally said, and bid her good night.

Returning to Astarion’s tent, you lay on your bedroll and stared up at the stars. Astarion was taking first watch tonight, so you would be alone for the first half of the night. Before, it wouldn’t have bothered you. Now, you wanted to hold him in your arms.

Gods, is this what falling in love feels like? To be so… needy?

Slowly, you fell into a restless sleep.

***

You awoke to the sting of your seal burning on your back and sat bolt upright.

“Darling?”

Glancing over at Astarion, who had only just taken off his armor, you only said, “seal,” and ran outside, following the lines of power. You could hear him pulling his armor back on as he ran after you. Not bothering to sneak past the other tents, you ran to the main campfire and stared up at the wooden walkway. The lines of power ended there.

“There’s nothing here,” Astarion said as he caught up to you. “At least, not yet.”

Then he suddenly grasped his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

At the same time, a portal opened on the wooden walkway and several figures stepped out, their menacing silhouettes darkening the glow from the portal.

The figures, sensing that you were the weak one, all honed in and dashed towards you.

“Go to Withers!” Astarion yelled as he deflected an arrow shot straight at your head.

You ran towards the little hut at the edge of the campsite, just as everyone else appeared and ran towards the enemy, passing you on the way.

Then you saw the owlbear cub, snarling and growling, while Scratch tugged on its neck, trying to pull him away.

Oh gods, the little ones!

You stopped to help Scratch pull the owlbear cub away from the fight to where Withers was staying, calmly talking the cub down from its bloodlust.

“No sweetheart, you can’t go fight, not now. Wait until you’re bigger.”

~~But I want to fight now. Help big brother.~~

“Big Brother?” You looked over to see Halsin in his bear form, knocking back enemies with a mighty swing of his paws. Turning back to the little owlbear, you scratched his head. “When you’re bigger, my sweet. Let’s make sure you get lots to eat so you can grow big and strong, alright? But for now, you need to stay safe and alive so you can fight later.”

Owly looked up at you with his big pleading eyes.

“No, you must stay here.”

He hooted sadly.

You turned to Scratch. “Thank you for helping him.”

~Of course, Mistress. I couldn’t let our little brother get hurt.~

You blinked. “Mistress?”

Scratch tipped his head. ~Well. Yes. I suppose you’re our mistress now. You’ve been good to us. You care about us. You feed us.~

You nodded. “I suppose. But to me, we’ll always be friends.”

Scratch pressed his wet nose against your knee. ~Yes, always.~

Turning your attention back to the battle beyond, you decided to stay behind and wait for the others to handle the fight. You watched as they defeated the enemies and jumped into the portal. Everything grew quiet, and it looked like the warriors on the ground were well and truly dead.

You came upon the corpses, a bit surprised to see that they were githyanki.

Ah. Odd. Oh well.

You began to loot their bodies, taking all of their armor and weapons for later bartering. Then you dragged their bodies, one by one with Scratch’s help, to the cliff’s edge, tossing them off the side.

When you saw Owly devouring one of the bodies, you had an idea. “Owly, do you want to eat the others?”

Owly looked up and looked around. ~~Yes, more food!~~ he chirped happily around a mouthful of flesh.

Good, that’ll be less weight to push off the cliff.

You cleaned up the camp and prepared some healing potions, waiting for the others to return.

A few hours passed, and when they came out of the portal, your companions looked exhausted. More concerning to you was Gale was helping Shadowheart walk, her arm wrapped around his shoulders, favoring her left leg. You called her name and immediately went to the other side of her, putting her other arm around your shoulders. Helping her to the campfire, you and Gale sat her down, leaning against a rock to prop her up.

You went to grab a few healing potions, quickly returning just in time to see Gale holding her hand, gently whispering to her as she grimaced against the pain. You knelt down beside her and helped her drink two of the potions, monitoring the ghastly wound that ran along the length of her thigh as it healed.

“You’re a tough one, aren’t you,” you said soothingly as you helped her out of her armor.

Shadowheart only shrugged.

“Can you walk now?”

She nodded. “Yeah, seems alright.”

“Good. Leave your clothes outside your tent, I’ll clean and mend them before morning.”

You didn’t say anything when Gale led her to her tent and followed her inside.

Now you could tend to the others. Everyone already knew the drill as they tossed their clothes in piles outside of their tents, clearly ready to be done for the night. Just as you were about to dutifully gather their things, Astarion gently guided you back to his tent.

“Astarion?”

“It can wait until you’ve had some sleep,” he said, dropping his armor and bloody clothes on the floor inside of his tent. He pulled on a pair of soft linen pants and lay down on his bedroll. “Come here, darling.”

Just as you laid down next to him, he pulled you on top of him, draping you over his body like a blanket. A feeling of satisfaction oozed from him, so you let him hold you.

Letting his body lull you into a warm, comforting stupor, you softly sang a lullaby from long ago.

Soon enough, both of you fell asleep.

***

You woke up when Astarion did. More specifically, he jolted upright, accidentally flinging you to the side.

“Astarion? Are you alright?” you asked, panicking at the look of fear on his face.

“I… I slept.”

You blinked. It took a moment for you to register exactly what he said. “Wait, I thought elves didn’t sleep.”

“We don’t, generally speaking. At least, I don’t.” He stared at you. “Your song last night. It was different from your usual lullaby.”

You thought about it. “Oh… it was one my mother used to sing to me. It’s… in Sylvan…” You shook your head. “Wait, I thought nothing could make an elf fall asleep?”

Astarion stared at you. “Curious.” He finally shrugged. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you not sing that song in my presence again. I… dreamed about the past.”

He said that last word with such disgust that you were afraid to ask what he dreamed about. “I’m sorry.”

He waved away your apology. “You didn’t know.” Looking closely at your face, he raised an eyebrow. “You want to ask me what I dreamed about, don’t you?”

You swallowed. “I don’t want to make you relive something you don’t want to.”

He shrugged and held your hand. “Perhaps telling you will help me forget about it.”

You could tell that Astarion was omitting or glossing over certain things as he spoke, but you got the gist. Entombed for a whole year. You could barely manage a day without eating, but a whole year? You wanted to tear out Cazador’s entrails and strangle him with them. Your tears fell, full of rage and sadness for Astarion, who was punished far too harshly just for showing a bit of compassion.

He brushed your tears away. “You’re far too empathetic,” he said.

You have no idea. Taking a deep breath, you calmed yourself, your breath still shuddering. “I wish I could feed him his own innards.”

Astarion laughed. “If you could fight, you would have been a magnificent menace,” he said proudly. “It’s almost a shame you’re as sweet as you are. Can you imagine yourself tearing your enemies limb from limb?”

You chuckled. “That is definitely a fever dream of an image.”

He took your hands and pressed his forehead to yours. You could tell that some of the fear was subsiding, but there was still a slight thrum beneath everything else. He finally leaned back and took a breath.

“Everyone said that they’d help you. They’ll help you kill him, and you’ll be free,” you assured him.

He only hummed thoughtfully before getting up. “Well, I suppose we should face the new day, hm?”

***

As you went around cleaning and mending the damaged clothes from last night, you could overhear snippets of conversation as the others ate breakfast.

“The Gate is close. As is Cazador.” You could hear Astarion’s ire as he launched into a tirade, his words dripping with venom.

The others commented, but your ears perked up when he mentioned taking Cazador’s place in the ritual.

I’m not sure about this.

You continued to eavesdrop until they decided to look for Astarion’s ‘siblings’ around the dens of the city. You couldn’t quite tell what everyone was thinking, but with each person having their own goals in the city, you wondered if they were all distracted with their own thoughts and not truly paying attention.

After an hour, everyone had packed up and gotten their things packed onto the floating disc. Walking down the path towards the city, you quietly pulled Astarion aside.

“Are you sure about… taking Cazador’s place?”

“We need to find out more, but why not? Don’t you want me to be stronger?”

I do, but not if you’re sacrificing souls to a devil to do it. “Just… think about the consequences.”

He shrugged. “I am.”

You could tell that he wasn’t. Leaving it alone for now, you followed the group into Rivington, and a new phase of your adventure.

Gods, we have enough shit headed our way. I hope I can help them, if even just a little bit.

-------------------------------

Act II, Chapter 9 End notes: Finally, we’re getting to the city! What new trouble will our heroes find themselves in? How will our dear hearth witch handle the big city? Find out next week! Just seven more chapters to go, my dears…

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