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Teacher's pet. // Prof!Alex Turner X Stud!Reader (Smut) Part 1 of 3.

prompt: (Age Gap/Smut) Alex, an undergraduate professor, wasn't known for his friendliness until he found himself gradually warming up to you. Your remarkable writing skills, particularly directed at his class, heightened his interest even further. He's determined to show you firsthand just how talented you are, even if the journey is challenging. Eventually, both of you realize that resisting this connection is futile, and you must let go of your inhibitions to explore what lies ahead.

words: 9.3K

a/n: Be aware that it's a smut but it has a whole context, so it's long. There are changes of the next parts being more smuts, this part was assembled around how they feel in front of each other and what they make the other feel. It is important to point out that I'm not native of the language, it is likely that there are some errors, but hopefully few because I try to be careful. In addition, I hope you enjoy!

You were nervous; it was difficult to digest what he was explaining when all you seemed to notice in class was the timbre of his voice. As hours passed, his accent seemed to grow stronger and huskier, not to mention how he had taken off his blazer within the first few minutes and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. You couldn't quite tell whether you were enjoying the subject matter due to its inherent interest or whether it was him who had become your focus of interest.

You found the buttons on his white shirt alluring, the warmth adhering to his skin, and the occasionally tousled hair being lazily brushed away from his eyes exuded a charm. Watching him was intriguing; at some point, you had tried to avoid such distractions, but realizing your failure, you allowed yourself to be swept away completely.

"Did you hear me?" He asked a bit louder, trying to get your attention. He hadn't shouted; he never did. You were immersed in him, yet couldn't grasp the meaning of the disjointed words he had gestured. However, the movements of his restless hands and the prominent veins when he placed them on his waist had etched themselves into your memory. If someone requested, you could depict his fingers in oil on canvas.

"I'm sorry," you shook your head, waiting for him to repeat, as he often did with everyone else. He studied you more closely, even from a distance, his hands tucked in his pockets and your breath catching slightly. He didn't often make direct eye contact with students, maybe with no one. He was somewhat reserved, and it was evident that lecturing for hours wasn't quite his natural disposition. You found the stumbling over words and how he would look out the window or shift his gaze when someone met his eyes rather appealing. You feared that you had been thinking about him for so long that you had built up an image of him beyond what he could actually be.

However, he held his dark eyes on you, offering a gentle smile, a touch relaxed as if he had expected that from you, and playfully continued, "Well, I didn't expect that from you. I must have been mistaken in thinking you're a great one." He carried on with the lecture as your cheeks began to burn. Perhaps his not-liking for you was part of his nature too.

…

You couldn't bear for him not to like you. Not until the end of the semester; you considered his subject crucial for your repertoire. He just couldn't dislike you. Some nights were spent awake, but you were certain your paper was well-written, and your readings for his class were up to date; any question he might ask, you'd know the answer to. Your seat in the classroom was always the same, out of habit. Honestly, if you had known the distraction and nervousness that Mr. Turner would cause you, you would have opted for seats further back for your own good. But now it was too late, and besides, you needed a good grade in his class.

He was wearing a light blue blazer, a shirt with a few buttons open, and high-waisted slacks, the usual attire, but it never failed to soften your senses. He looked well-rested, his expression serene, no signs of dark circles, and his hair was even silkier than usual as his fingers brushed it back. You found yourself fidgeting, imagining what it would be like to run your fingers through his hair, touch his skin, and feel the texture of the beard that was just beginning to grow.

Realizing your mental drift, you closed your eyes tightly and buried your head in a notebook, trying to avoid looking at him. The rest of the class proceeded as usual, his voice pleasant and utterly hypnotic, and occasionally, he cracked a light joke to lighten the mood. Almost no one laughed, but you found it funny. There were only a few students, so he had no choice but to notice you.

You weren't foolish enough not to notice his eyes briefly passing over you, but you chalked it up to his duty to see if anyone needed help. So you avoided letting your brain jump to impossible conclusions.

And then there was the age difference; he was older, you couldn't say for sure how much, but the more pronounced lines on his face and his authoritative demeanor made that evident. Still, he was charming and, dare you say, a bit sexy. He had a well-sculpted physique, leaving enough room for you to describe him for hours.

"Could you continue for us?" he said, his voice distinct, making you look at him reluctantly. You didn't know it, but avoiding his gaze throughout the class had bothered him, but who was he to say anything about it unless you couldn't answer him?

You nodded, your hands sweaty; you knew what to say, just not where to find the courage. Your cheeks were already burning with anxiety. "I'm sorry," your voice was soft, and you stumbled over the first syllable. He seemed to understand. "It's okay," Mr. Turner leaned down to your level at your desk, his hands on his knees, and a somewhat encouraging smile. "I know you wrote an excellent paper on this; I know you know what to say," he said softly, turning toward you, his calm eyes and a nod of the head giving you confidence. His words made you look away for a moment, and your shy smile spread awkwardly.

Once you finished, he thanked you and added that you had done very well. He seemed genuinely pleased to see you speak, but perhaps it was just a product of your imagination. You even received a light applause from him, which didn't seem ironic. This made you feel more at ease and attentive during his classes; he was a great teacher.

At the end of class, he passed by the desks, handing out the respective papers we had discussed. Your face fell into a worried expression as you touched yours. Alex knew you deserved more, but he wouldn't make it easy for you. It wasn't his style as an educator to give out high grades easily.

Your smile disappeared in confusion; he felt a pang in his chest when he saw your reaction. He didn't say anything, just returned to his desk and said he was open to discussions. He hoped you would come to him and fight for the grade you deserved, but it was clear how upset you were about it.

Others left, content with their grades, and you still had the paper in your hands, looking between the notes. He avoided looking at you directly, yet couldn't help but glance at you from time to time.

"Mr. Turner," you sounded angelic as you approached him, your steps light as you handed him the paper. Your shirt was short, and when you handed him the paper, he couldn't help but notice the exposed skin of your stomach, which was briefly visible. "I thought I had done well; that's what you just said," your voice trembled, and as you got closer, he noticed your sweet scent. On the other hand, you couldn't focus on anything; minutes ago, you were sure you had done well, and things with him had been sorted out; he didn't hate you.

"It's not a bad grade," he said firmly, then immediately regretted it. It was brief, but for a moment, your eyes filled, and he could see how much it had frustrated you. He didn't blame you; in fact, he knew you were talented, and by the way you had written, he knew you had put in the effort. The problem wasn't you; any other teacher would have given you the highest grade. However, your grade wasn't bad; it just wasn't what you deserved and wanted.

"Do you think I can redo it? I can do better," he looked at your trembling hands and continued, "This grade is final; I can't allow you to do that." His words didn't match his tone, but you didn't notice; you wanted to rip up the paper in front of him and say you didn't need it.

You stood in front of him, disoriented, while he couldn't help but let his attention wander over you. He felt wrong, both because you were his student and because he was aware that you were over a decade younger. Still, without being able to explain it well, he found himself lost in thoughts of you from time to time, especially after having read what you wrote.

"Please," you pleaded softly as a last attempt, your eyebrow arched and your nose wrinkled in emphasis of your plea, and you looked so beautiful. "I can allow you to submit another," he confirmed, his face serious, the little furrow between his brows. Up close, you felt your breath catch as you noticed the exposed hairs on his chest. The scent of cigarettes and his cologne became more pronounced, and you liked it. Creating a new one would take so much time, but if it was your only option, there was nothing to be done.

Alex had only asked that in the hope of being able to explore more of your writing; by the end of the semester, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from letting you know that you were his number one fan if you allowed it. You had a beautiful way with writing; feelings seemed worth experiencing in your words. You nodded in agreement. "Okay, I need you to submit it by the end of the week." You didn't object; you seemed grateful, and Alex took mental note of how caring so much about that grade was something youthful; in the future, it wouldn't matter, but you didn't know that yet. Your smile, now smaller but still present, returned to your kind face, and he felt more comfortable, even dressed in his serious university professor attire. With that, he guided you to the door, his palm resting lightly on your back, not inappropriately, but gently, which caused him to blush a bit. You felt shivers run down your spine, but he didn't seem to notice, and both of you made your way to the exit. You thanked him once more, telling him that you wouldn't make him regret his decision, to which he assured you it wouldn't happen.

Your path to the next class was accompanied by a light and relaxed smile after his final words were simply, "I know you won't disappoint me; you didn't the first time," in his pleasant accent, followed by a pat on your shoulders. You felt like a fool, but you couldn't even think of trying to avoid it anymore.

…

"He's good, knows what he's doing. He follows my lead during, when I'm tired and breathless; he tilts his face and lets his nose graze my clit," your friend said casually, as if it were an everyday part of her life. Well, you couldn't relate. She was lounging on your bed, while you were on the floor with your laptop open to one of Professor Turner's published stories. As well as a valuable audiobook that was read by him between the navigation tabs, waiting for her to leave so you can have your moment of peace. You wanted to learn more about him, and your friend kept failing to get you to go out and meet new people. You were unfamiliar with the sensation of being touched, and she wanted to change that.

"I don't want to have to force someone to like me," you said, reconsidering what you had just breathed out, not wanting to sound offensive. You two were just different. She didn't mind; she just laughed. "I'll keep trying for you," and you appreciated that about her. You wanted someone in your life like that, but you didn't want it to be as insignificant as she described. She had already set you up with someone to talk to before, and the kiss was good, at least until you refused to have sex right away, which resulted in his friends laughing at you and whispering as you passed them in the hallway. You learned that sometimes it's better to wait and avoid certain situations.

"I'm okay like this, it's alright," you said, even though you weren't, but you wouldn't go through that again. She respected your decision. Your smile brightened as you saw a notification that you had received an email from Alex on the screen. You bit your lip, trying to contain your eagerness to click on it, making it something important that needed to be read slowly and appreciated. His notes on what he thought of your paper would be there, and he always made a point to highlight the positives and areas for improvement. It warmed your heart.

For a brief moment, his smile for you flashed in your mind, the wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes, and his pointed nose following in harmony. You had to grip the fabric of your skirt between your fingers, soon having your friend's words echoing in your head. Professor Turner seemed like a good man in every sense of the word. You did believe he would treat his partners well in every way. Your friend pointed out that the boy she went out with listened to her, and you felt that he would too; both in listening and in other ways. You were sure, with what little you had learned about him, that he was observant. There would be no need to tell him what to do, Mr Turner would understand your body and then he would not disappoint. He could tell when a woman was tired or overwhelmed. An important one was that you also thought he was provocative, too impatient at times not to be. You wanted to be able to know what it was like with him, even if it was through other people's experiences with him, just to get a little of that taste. You didn't exactly feel good about the inconsistency of such thoughts. Still, you let yourself be carried away by them.

He made you wet with just his voice. If he were to touch you in that way, you were certain you would give yourself over completely. You sat up straighter, envisioning how good it would be to have his tongue on you, gentle and with relaxed moans because he wouldn't think going down on you was a bad thing or something to second-guess. You remembered how easily you could make your small vibrator slide when you were really excited, and you felt it would be the same with his fingers. They were longer and thicker than yours, but wet with his saliva and your body melting from his voice, they would be skillful.

The tip of his nose would surely brush deliciously against your clit as he savored your taste, following your cues. The beard that was beginning to grow would graze your sensitive skin, causing a slight burn that would remind you of his presence. Professor Turner would also shake his face into you, wanting to make sure he enjoyed pleasuring you as much as he did receiving. Oh, and you would love to be able to provide that to him. Unconsciously, you found yourself breathing heavily. Your friend laughed, "Are you this worked up over a notification?" She had gotten up to leave but returned when she noticed you were flustered. "Spill it, who's the lucky one?" You recoiled, shaking your head in denial, not wanting to admit that there was someone (or not exactly), but your smile was hard to hide.

"It's not really anyone," you still felt uncomfortable in your own skin, fearing you had done something wrong. She waited for you to continue. "Just an email about a paper I submitted, I got feedback on it now." She rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "What a nerd." Then you felt like exploring the situation further, considering that she also had a class with him but in a different subject. "Was it positive feedback at least? What subject is this for?" You mentally thanked her for asking, giving you an opening to continue.

"It's for Professor Turner's class. He let me redo one of the papers to try for a higher grade," you answered, and she raised an eyebrow. "He gave you a low grade?" The girl seemed surprised but not entirely. "This guy is impossible, what a..." She used a strong word. You didn't quite understand. While you still thought there was a chance he might dislike you, he didn't seem so harsh. He wasn't the friendliest at first, but as you thought back, you realized you had never seen him smile at any student in your class except you.

"Do people think he's bad?" You asked, furrowing your brow. Deep down, you wanted her to reassure you by saying positive things about him and making you feel normal about having this confusing crush on him. She then talked about his strict grading style, how he acted like a difficult person to talk to, and always had a stern expression. She wasn't wrong; you couldn't deny that. But he wasn't like that with you; it was different, and you couldn't explain it.

"I talked to him about my grade, and even though he was reluctant, he allowed me to redo it and submit it by email. He talks to me during class as well, asking me to explain something or asking for my opinion on what he's explaining. I think he's talented, but I can understand your point," you defended, without taking a breath, as if it were already a formulated and concrete idea in your head. You did spend a lot of time thinking about him since the first day of his class. She quickly caught on to where this was headed. "You like him, he's your type. Charming, grumpy, and writes well." Your cheeks burned. "He likes you; in my class, he doesn't chitchat with anyone, just does what's necessary. He enjoys teaching, I can see that in him, he's just not so sociable and too strict for a subject that should be straightforward. I've never even seen the guy smile." You pondered for a moment, deciding to pay closer attention to see if he treated you differently from the others or if it was just your head playing tricks on you.

You shrugged and concluded before she left, "I like him, and he frustrates me sometimes for being so strict, but I don't think he does it out of malice. He seems like a good man." She got up, laughing at how you talked about him. "Then go for it, suck his dick, choose him as your thesis advisor; I'm sure he'd love to have you under his wing." Her tone indicated it was a joke, but it sparked your imagination. He would be a good advisor, and you liked the idea of him praising your work with that pleased, bright look on his face. Alone, you opened the email. Your joy went from extreme to controlled; he could be quite harsh when pointing out the negatives, and sometimes you wondered if he did it just to be difficult. But this time, he found more positives in your writing. He had marked the parts he liked the most and written next to them why he liked them. Your heart warmed, and your stomach filled with happy butterflies. The last comment read, "You give me pleasure in reading something," and you heard it in his voice, deep and drawn-out. You felt yourself grow warm and realized how messed up you were for feeling like this. Your mouth was dry, and in the end, you saw that your grade was the highest, even with the not-so-great notes he had made.

Maybe he didn't dislike you after all. You lingered on the blurry, not much clear photo in his email signature for a while, with a stupid smile of accomplishment on your face. Then you decided to write him a thank-you, and you weren't as brief as you would have liked. The sensation of comfort taking over your body, along with your pleasant but not entirely appropriate thoughts about him causing things in your breathing, made you contemplate what could be done.

You rested your head comfortably, your laptop placed beside you. In a new tab, after opening the audiobook website, you found yourself browsing through the selection that appeared when you searched his name. If his voice was enticing in an inappropriate context, it would be even better alone, wouldn't it? Your chest tightened, knowing that it was wrong, but you weren't going to stop.

You put on your headphones, clicked on the longest one you could find, and relaxed your tense shoulders as the first whispered words filled your head. It was even better; here, you had him all to yourself, complete silence, and his voice echoing, well-recorded and clear as it guided you. He sounded precise, with deep and marked pauses, his typical breathing between phrases, and, with your eyes closed, you could imagine him gesturing and occasionally touching his nose or mouth as he spoke. Just like the gentle adjustment of the necklace and shirt that made his chest more visible and room for more of your thoughts to be explored. In fact, that necklace coming off his soft skin on top of you in sweat would be something so pleasant.

You felt weak but in a relaxed way; it was good, pushing the voice that haunted your thoughts about him into the background. Delicately, as if any abrupt movement might break the spell, you reached for your box under the bed. The small, pink object came to life in your hand, your throat already dry and his narration causing your head to tilt slightly to the side, as if he were caressing your face. You let yourself be completely carried away as you pressed it against yourself.

You swallowed hard, leaving it there for a while, immersed in how Mr. Turner seemed to be speaking to you. Everything was slow, every syllable that came from his rosy lips was cherished. You wanted so much for it to be him there, touching you and whispering while guiding you. You were sure he would say things like, "That's it, you're taking me so well, doll," or "Look at how good you are, you're such a good girl for me." And as cliché as it might sound, you had no doubt that he would make it sound like something the gods themselves would envy.

You pulled the thin fabric aside, pushing the vibrator inside you. Your legs trembled a bit, but as expected, the small object slid in just right. Your lips parted in a satisfied sigh, whispering his last name as you closed your legs slowly and felt the tingling sensation intensify. His name never felt so delicious and engaging as your tongue rolled out to the sound and went through your lips so vividly. Your head throbbed, and you could already see him sitting at his desk in front of yours, guiding you, telling you what to do and say, teaching you tricks to make it even better (you knew you weren't very skilled).

You got louder, whimpering because you wanted your thoughts to become real so badly, and then you saw nothing but white spots in your vision. Your chest heaved, your breathing completely out of sync, and the area beneath you grew wet as you felt too sensitive to continue with the vibrator.

This time, you didn't feel bad; you felt really good, actually. Your body relaxed, his voice still being absorbed by you in a therapeutic way. Then, you imagined lying on his chest, pulling your pillow to your arms, and how he would kiss you solemnly and have his hands in your hair, giving you comforting words until you fell asleep after he had made you feel so wonderful.

Although you were feeling good now, the following morning would be a bitter testament to how you were digging yourself into a hole with no bottom, and the light wouldn't be there to save you.

…

Alex received your email, and a pleasant blush crept onto his face along with a warm smile. He could picture you reading what he had written, your hands between your thighs, a happy expression on your face, and all giddy, unable to contain yourself in your chair. He appreciated how much you valued his feedback, but he knew how hardworking and intelligent you were. He wanted to help you realize that you were good on your own, not just because he believed it.

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling hot from the heat. Your notification had arrived on his phone, and being a seasoned university professor, he preferred to wait to access his laptop to read and respond to you properly if needed. He tried to get into the thing that he was used to teaching, but that wasn't entirely the case. While he found it tiresome to teach subjects he liked and found interesting when no one seemed interested, he enjoyed it when you were there for him, you were the exception (the teacher’s pet). The thought made him chuckle and bite his lip. It was tiring, but he liked it, except for all the social interaction that weighed on him.

He had just returned from the market after giving two lectures, and he had exceeded his limit for social interaction. Yet, seeing your email notification on the screen gave him the extra energy he needed for the rest of the day. Just the thought of your quick exchange earlier when he passed by you on the first floor during lunch, even if brief, brought a warmth to his chest. You smiled at him, waved, and whispered a "good day" or "have a good rest of your day, Professor." He always smiled back with a hand in the air, trying to keep his face relaxed, and he actually showed his teeth. He wasn't used to all this sweetness from his students and had never found himself making an effort for it, but with you, it was worth it.

Indeed, no one but you spoke directly to him out of pure, spontaneous will. If others did, he would remain serious, with a furrowed brow, and nod in agreement. He honestly preferred it that way, with no one besides you trying to have a small talk with him. He didn't dislike his students, but he didn't like flattery and dumb questions that could be avoided if they paid attention in class.

His head began to ache, and he noticed the sweat on his body, prickling and making him feel irritated. Stress was about to come back, but he remembered that he needed to read your email. He removed his belt, sliding it off his waist slowly and soon feeling relieved. He felt even better after unbuttoning all the buttons on his shirt and peeling it off. He quickly decided between taking a shower or reading your sweet words first, considering which order would leave him relaxed for longer so he could sleep. He knew that whatever he did, thoughts related to you would still linger in his mind until he fell asleep.

He sat on the bed, pulling the laptop toward him, and although he wasn't in a hurry, he found himself restless until the screen lit up, and he could access his account. Once he did, your simple message didn't fail to soften him. The excessive exclamation points reminded him of how young you were. It was like a letter, with your polite and correct punctuation. He could almost hear your voice as he read your words.

The way you called him "Mr. Turner" never failed to affect him. Others had addressed him this way, but it was different with you. Your eyes sparkled, your smile widened, your pupils got alive, and your pleasant face eagerly awaited for him to look at you and speak to you. He thought he was too old for this, and he certainly was, but he couldn't avoid how you had invaded his soul.

You had no knowledge of what was going on in his head, but he felt like he was corrupting you. He felt dirty for getting so energized by giving you compliments he knew you liked to hear and then patting your back while seeing you happy about it. What the hell was he doing? And he couldn't deny that he found comfort in how beautiful you looked when you were frustrated, your eyes seemed more tired, and your breathing uneven when you were upset about one of his negative comments (sometimes he did it on purpose).

Feeling his own chest grow heavier and his mind getting increasingly lost, he opted for a shower, even though he was aware that idealizing you wouldn't end there. Now without clothes, under the shower, with you like a curse surrounding him, he realized just how messed up he was. He couldn't avoid it anymore, even though he didn't want to. He knew there was no turning back.

The words from your email clung to him as water flowed over his hair and down his shoulders. You had shown how much you appreciated him and knew his work, the care in choosing your words to praise him, and saying that you wanted to get to him in person soon to reinforce how much you had liked his feedback, the way would like to work through them and see you unravel in front of him because he noticed that your courage in emails wasn't the same as in person. He found that so adorable.

His overactive imagination was leading him to cute places related to you, but it was sparking other curiosities in him too, even though it was about how delicate and somewhat innocent he found you (although he would never admit it that way). Soon, he felt heavy, needing relief as the water splashed over him, and he sighed in exasperation at himself. He was being as pathetic as a teenager. Why couldn't he stop?

His breathing grew rigid, catching in his dry throat, and he allowed himself to be carried away by the flow of his fantasies. His hand ran over his abdomen, eyes tightly closed, hoping that this would make him feel less guilty about it. His thumb glided over the sensitive skin, and a soft sigh escaped his lips; he felt sore and swollen despite doing so little. He continued slowly but with precision. He believed that giving you pleasure wasn't such a difficult task; you would appreciate the touch no matter what. Not that it made him want to go easy on you. He felt like he could have his hands around your waist, squeezing your soft flesh with delight while admiring your breasts, giving them gentle bites and generous suckling that would make you gasp for air for extended periods. Your hands would be cradling the nape of his neck, fingers entwined in his tousled hair. He found comfort in this, feeling that he could make you feel the same way.

He also thought that your body would respond well to his. He was convinced that you were addicted to being a good girl, and that was not up for discussion. The way you melted under his compliments, listened to his harsh criticisms, and sought to improve upon them, you would deny any chance of being labeled a bad girl. As more moans escaped his lips, with the strength of his fingers unaltered, he thought about going a little harder on you, not to hurt, but to make you think about begging him to stop. The tears that would stream down the corners of your eyes as you tried to be good for him and take him in you just right. "You're doing so well, babygirl. You’re so good to me." You would open your bright eyes to him, feeling encouraged to continue being what he needed. He would clearly notice and slow down, accommodating his fingers on your clit and making you adjust to him with soft whimpers that made you endure and enjoy it until the end.

He also liked how you would react when he stimulated you to the extreme, your sensitivity and his desire to taste your essence on his tongue. He could say that you were as sweet as his last name sounded when you talked to him in class. He would tease you with his tongue, kissing you as if it were the only time and chance he had to touch you. And you would fight not to close your thighs around him, but as you were a good girl, you would succeed in keeping yourself spread open while he exhausted you a few more times. The thought of you reaching your peak, your eyes closed, and the tears he knew would be there because you did that when you got frustrated with his opinions on your writing, and your mouth slightly open with his name escaping, made him reach his climax. A deep, raspy groan echoed through the bathroom, his head heavy, and his shoulders feeling lighter and more satisfied. He worked his hand until the last drops came out and marked his stomach just before the water could wash it away down the drain.

He felt good, guilty, but his body wasn't saying that. "Fuck," he sighed, not knowing if it was relief or the headache that would come later due to this; it was getting worse to a dimension he hadn't imagined. He would surely ruin you if he continued; it wasn't as enjoyable as he wished.

Still, he got out of the shower and found himself picturing how you would snuggle up to him, your tired body and calm eyes enveloped by his, and how he would love to tell you stories until he saw you fall asleep safe in his arms or listen to you talk about your day. He liked your voice; it made him feel good. At this point, he desired you in all these ways, from the most profane to the most adorable, for your physical and emotional well-being.

You still haunted his dreams, so vividly that he reached out for you in bed. In his imagination, he had lifted you by the waist and placed you sitting on his desk. The remaining students had left, and he could revel in how your hands were trembling and your face was so delicate as you gazed at him. You used to wear knee-high socks with longer boots, and he found it sexy yet cute. He felt like you made things your own, that you gave life to them. And then he found himself pulling at that piece of clothing, your legs spreading apart, and he had to instruct you to stay quiet before someone noticed as his fingers touched between your thighs. He caressed over the damp fabric, nodding his head and waiting for you to do the same, indicating that you understood to stay calm and quiet. The door would be closed, but the glass window could still give you away. You were facing away from it, and if you behaved, everything would go smoothly.

Alex could feel you soaking through his fingers, making them slippery. You sucked on his finger skillfully, being such a great girl, and stayed still without him having to coax you into relaxing as he went deeper. Your sighs were adorable, and he felt himself getting hard. He woke up before he could make you reach your peak and realized that the dream had an effect on him. There, he knew that if given the opportunity, maybe he wouldn't be able to fight against what he wanted to do, purely out of morality.

…

The following week, there was no class with Turner due to some unforeseen circumstances of his. However, he was still around for the week. Being as observant as you were, you passed by the same spot at 12:45 on Friday, gave him a slight wave, and although you had planned to approach him and ask how he was, you didn't. That is, until he called out to you, causing your body to freeze and your heart to race, forcing you to get closer.

He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, his cheeks flushed and intense. You noticed his restlessness as you got to him; it was cute, not awkward. He held a coffee and had a cigarette between his fingers. He exhaled the smoke in the opposite direction to yours and got rid of it as soon as you arrived by his side.

"Are you good, Professor?" It didn't fail to make him nervous, but he still looked at you without understanding. "I'm sorry, I guess it's not my business; I just thought to ask out of politeness since I haven't seen you this week."

He laughed at how you stumbled over your words, and he didn't blame you; he felt the same way. The fact that he made you feel like your question was inappropriate even made his chest tighten a bit.

"It's okay, I had a routine check-up, but I'm fine," he replied briefly but nodded with a comfortable smile. He could see you swallowing nervously and how your fingers wouldn't stop moving while he had his eyes on you.

"I thought of a book for you, if you don't mind." Your eyes met his, and you seemed excited. "I really like it, and I thought you might like it too."

The idea that he had thought of you made your body tingle, and the rush of blood to your face drowned out the noise around you. You took the coffee from his hands, noticing how he fumbled with opening his bag, and the light touch of your skins made you wish for more—it was warm and soft.

He took out the book, handing it to you, and you nodded with a faint smile. You hugged the cover to yourself, avoiding his gaze for a moment. It felt insane being around him after all the things you did with him in mind. You weren't exactly proud of that. The collar of his striped T-shirt was carelessly folded, and the buttons you loved so much were unbuttoned, revealing his chest briefly. You wished you could fix it for him.

This time, he wore a dark blazer and flare jeans, and he was pleasant to look at. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed, "I left notes in some parts so that I can know what you think later, if you'll allow me." Then you realized that he was doing this because he knew you needed to do well in his course to get into the master's program; still, you found it cute.

"Oh, yes, I can write to you when I finish, right?" He agreed, knowing that he would be waiting for your email in the coming weeks.

"I'm glad to know you're okay, Mr. Turner," you said awkwardly, your face fervently hot, and thanked him for the book. As you turned around, you felt his hand on your wrist; it wasn't as soft as before, but it was comforting, with the fingertips firmer as he squeezed your skin. Then, your eyes met his with a raised eyebrow.

"I need you to give me back my coffee, pet," he said playfully, and your knees weakened a bit. He felt pleased to be able to contemplate you in his mind.

…

The heat had taken its toll on Alex. He had left his blazer in the car and decided to visit one of the open bars near the campus. His hands rested inside his pockets as he patiently waited for his juice and water, yearning for the moment when he could finally get home and enjoy a cold beer. It was his final class of the afternoon, which meant it was getting quite late, and the students were scattered around. While the bar wasn't overly crowded, he could still recognize a few faces.

As soon as the chilled cup was placed in his hands, he caught sight of you with your back turned. You were wearing your signature knee-high socks and boots, but this time, you had opted for a skirt and a tank top, giving you a more relaxed and comfortable appearance. You looked stunning. With you engaged in conversation with a friend he had glimpsed from a distance, you were all smiles and animated hand gestures, bringing life to the scene.

Realizing he was staring, Alex chided himself and tried to divert his attention back to his juice. Yet, within a few minutes, his gaze involuntarily returned to you. Now, you were alone, engrossed in his book that sat next to you, its pages marked to indicate that you had already begun reading. A smile of satisfaction graced his lips; he had strategically placed notes between the pages for you to discover, hoping you would notice.

You sipped from an orange beverage, and Alex decided not to speculate whether it contained alcohol. However, he knew you weren't intoxicated when you suddenly turned towards him and greeted him with a friendly wave. He felt momentarily caught off guard but managed to offer a warm wave in return, nodding to acknowledge you. Your smile was radiant, and he couldn't help but notice how different you appeared outside the confines of the classroom. He longed for the opportunity to engage with you in a context that wasn't purely academic, but he was well aware that pursuing such a connection might be detrimental to both of you.

You turned back to your previous position, sipping your drink through a straw, while still sneakily stealing glances at him. Alex deliberated whether to linger a bit longer for your sake. The table you occupied was well-lit, offering a refreshing ambiance that was perfect for a summer day. The atmosphere was delightful, and he could easily imagine you enjoying such a setting regularly.

He held his bottle of water, pondering the ethical implications of sitting with you while you were alone. His initial plan was to finish his drink and then leave. But he couldn't bring himself to do that—not for his sake, but for yours. It wouldn't be fair to you. He feared the potential consequences would fall squarely on your shoulders rather than his own.

He shook his head and eventually decided to leave. As you lowered your head into his hands, he waited for a few more minutes, half-expecting you to look his way. But it didn't happen.

Then everything seemed to happen very quickly. He returned to his car, leaving behind the water and even starting the engine before realizing he had left his wallet inside. He hesitated but ultimately turned back, despite his frustration over forgetting his documents.

His wallet was still where he had left it. He retrieved it and then shifted his attention to you, curious and attentive. Your hands were fidgeting with your socks, as if attempting to wipe away sweat. A boy was seated in front of you, but your attention was elsewhere. The guy sported a smile that made Alex uncomfortable on your behalf.

Your discomfort was palpable, yet you seemed powerless to do anything about it. You turned to the side, your head moving away from the boy, and as you gasped for air, the guy's grin widened. Your elbows dropped onto your knees, and your hands moved to pull your hair away from your face. You appeared more sweaty than usual, and you felt increasingly weak.

As you realized your strength was waning, the boy signaled for someone else to assist you. You resisted, but they gently pushed you back into your chair to prevent you from collapsing. They weren't being nice about it.

For Alex, that was the tipping point. He strode over to them and forcefully removed the boy's hand from your arm. "Get away from her," his stern voice reverberated, and you didn't understand what was happening, but you knew you didn't feel well.

The guys attempted to speak over Alex, trying to explain themselves, even though there was no justification for their actions. Their chatter only served to irritate him further. He held onto you, his hand caressing your face, and your eyes were half-closed; you were clearly not in a good state.

After another remark from the boys, Alex glared at the boy with an even more intense hatred. His brow furrowed, and his tone grew sharper. "Just stay away from her; I won't let her be alone with you," he warned, making it clear that they should not attempt such behavior with anyone else either.

The boys exchanged nervous glances and silently agreed to leave, though Alex couldn't have cared less about them at that moment.

"What’re you feeling, pet?" He placed his hands on his knees, lowering himself to your level. You were dazed, your skin tingling, and you weren't sure what to say, or if you could say anything at all. Alex considered asking where you lived and offering to take you home, but he suspected you lived in the vicinity of the campus, and it wouldn't be appropriate for him to be seen with you in this state. Taking you to his own home didn't seem like a good idea either, but he did live nearby, and it appeared to be the most reasonable option.

He cupped your face in his hands, close enough to smell your scent once again. You smiled faintly, your eyes still distant but focusing on him. You were conscious, just not in the best condition. "I don't want to stay here; my head is spinning," you mumbled, not entirely sure what was wrong. It could have been due to poor nutrition or dehydration, you thought.

"Look, I'll stay with you ‘til you feel better, alright?" he spoke gently, as if soothing a baby. You nodded, his touch on your cheek making you lean into his warmth. As he thought about reaching out to your forehead with his lips, he realized where he was and quickly pulled back, rising to his feet with you leaning on him for support.

…

Alex gently sat you in the passenger seat, and you huddled in front of him, noticeably self-conscious about your attire. He chuckled warmly, pulling his blazer from the back seat. You felt cradled by his presence as he slipped the fabric over your arms and fastened the buttons around your midsection. It resembled a short dress, making you feel more comfortable, and it carried a pleasant scent. Your stomach still tingled, and you were aware that it was because of him and not whatever had happened earlier.

He rested your head against the headrest, his serene eyes guiding you, and he didn't seem regretful about helping you, despite the crease between his brows. Then he fastened your seatbelt and handed you his water bottle. Your vision was blurry, and sudden movements hurt, but he wasn't a saint, and he had a rough view of how you must be feeling. He'd been your age before, although thankfully, in his case, it had been a result of a spontaneous choice.

"I'll wait a bit before starting the car, alright?" he suggested, and you nodded. He gently led the bottle to your lips, encouraging you to drink a substantial portion of it. He wiped your chin and face with the hem of his T-shirt, and you followed his every move, your attention fixated on him. Without the blazer, he looked even better, and you lightly held his wrist. He seemed concerned, but you did it because you wanted to and felt that you could, even though you'd never been this close before. "Thank you, Mr. Turner," you said casually, as if it didn't affect him profoundly.

As he sat down on the driver's side of the car, he closed the tinted windows, feeling safer with that precaution. He still worried about putting you in danger. He waited, knowing that feeling dizzy along with drinking water wouldn't be a good combination, even though he had insisted on it to help your body recover more quickly. He could hear your calm breathing, which put him at ease. You had closed your eyes, your mouth slightly ajar, and he looked at you, allowing himself to be captivated by every detail. He carefully adjusted your hair to prevent it from catching on the seat and strands from being pulled, whispering, "You can sleep; everything’ll be alright, I promise, little one." You found yourself charmed by the pet name, involuntarily smiling, and he made a mental note that you like it. Your arms lightly touched, and with the comforting scent of him surrounding you, you drifted into a light sleep. It was strange to be in such a bad situation with an outcome that neither of you regretted. He kept the radio off until reaching your destination. He’d never drive without music.

…

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light as you realized you were leaning on him for support. Your forehead was resting on his shoulder, his soft T-shirt against your skin. He was more comforting to touch than your mind had led you to trust. He was kneeling in front of you while you sat on the bed. You no longer felt dizzy, but you were weak, with not all your senses fully present. Alex's hands delicately removed your earrings and necklaces, and it was nice to have him so close, a bit surreal. You almost believed you could be a doll with how he was treating you. He moved back, laying you down on his bed, and he smiled at you as a way to reassure you that everything was okay. You grabbed his arm, afraid he would leave. Alex quickly shook his head. "Hey, little one, I'm not going anywhere. I just need to get some water for you and something to dry your face." He sounded caring, making you want to cry because you knew this was wrong. But why did it feel so right?

"Promise?" You asked, not into the idea of falling into a deep sleep and when you wake up he wouldn't be there to call you little one anymore. He nodded, extending his pinky finger to seal the promise. The silence without him wasn't comforting; you felt like there were monsters under the bed. Still out of mind about time and space, you realized you were in his room, which made you feel even more fragile. The room had a light blue color, seemed well-lit during the day, had books scattered in an organized manner, and two guitars hanging on the wall. That made you put your hand over your mouth as you imagined how his fingers would behave playing those strings. You wanted to hug him, to let the scent and the soft chest lull you to sleep again. Your head was noisy, and you didn't like it.

When he returned, he moved in slow motion to you. He wiped your face and neck with a damp cloth, and you wondered why he was alone. He was a good man; you had thought about that before. Alex wouldn't sleep next to you, but he would stay with you as long as you needed him. He sat with his back against the headboard, looking at you for a moment. It was too late; this was no longer just a casual situation. You'd have to talk about it; you had formed a bond. Although you were scared, Alex liked it.

You asked him to lie down, and he complied. You were side by side, facing each other. Your eyelids struggled to close, but first they followed your fingers as they roamed his face. You traced the gentle lines at the corner of his eye, then the bridge of his nose. He was handsome. Sometimes you wanted to forget that he was older than you, even though you liked him that way. Your hand then touched his rough stubble, and he smiled when he saw you smiling at him. It was like a dream, like you had imagined and even better.

In an abrupt and unquestionably unplanned proceed, your hand hooked onto the collar of his T-shirt, pulling yourself closer. It was a light pull, and in the blink of an eye, your lips were on his, tender and airless. They lingered there, just touching, feeling each other's warmth and the mixing of breaths. Your hand pressed against his chest and held him to yourself, like he could heal you. You moved your lips with his slowly, warmly, and precisely, enjoying in a comfortable sigh every second of it, until he broke into a sigh of reality. He couldn't be doing this, not with you like this. Not wanting to startle you, he sealed your cheeks and nose a few countless times before planting small forehead kisses when he needed to refuse your touch. He felt guilty, but he wouldn't deny that it had been good, way better than he had fantasized. There were no words, and none were needed; both of you were aware of it. Although he thought you might not be as much, he feared you might not even remember this when you woke up.

Alex held your palm against his chest until you fell asleep. Then he got up, covered your body with a warm sheet, and left you there. Unable to restrain himself from touching your face before and stroking your hair. The next day, you would wake up, wondering if it had been a vivid dream or not. But his room would leave no doubts, with the guitars, the well-lit atmosphere, and his blazer still carrying his scent on you. You didn't know how you were going to talk to him after that, you thought about how he must think of you as a kid who doesn't know how to be in the real world. This time, however, you noticed a photo on the bedside table. He was hugging a woman while kissing her forehead. She had a neatly cut fringe and an angelic face; she was very pretty, and it made you feel insecure. She was around his age. You were wrong to be there, and then you got that the bed you were on was a double bed. You wanted to run away even though your head was pounding. Professor Turner might act like a good man, but he was still a man. Above all, you tried to think well of him; perhaps it was a divorce, right? You would have noticed the ring on his finger if he were married. He wouldn't take off the ring, would he? But why was that photo still there? You quickly got up, failing to remain composed when you saw that he had left a note and some money in case you needed to call an Uber. You couldn't just read it right away. You wanted to believe he was good, but it hurt. You felt used even though you hadn't done anything. Yet, you still felt like you wanted him around more often because you felt good with him. In the middle of class, Alex struggled with impatience, hoping you wouldn't leave without taking the note and the snack he had left for you, so you would have his number and be safe. But it didn't happen, at least not when he expected it to.

...

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#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #alex turner x y/n #arctic monkeys #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner imagine #fanfic

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sae1549 · 4 months

Text

More very random head cannons. -SFW—NSWF-

Characters mentioned: Astarion, Gale, shadowheart, laezel, Wyll, Karlach, Minthara and Halsin +1

Content warning: hair pulling, oral f/recieving & m/recieving, knife play, size kink, predator/ pray kink.

Word count: 3.2k

Astarion

-SFW-

- He has a very gravelly voice in the morning that lasts around 25 minutes.

- He absolutely loves cats. And later you end up moving to the underdark, you both adopt a cat that is able to travel alone to get the things that they need. He sees it as your baby and treats it as such.

- He is the person you go to if you want any gossip. When you both get to the underdark I could see him becoming a bartender or something like that. Where he can swindle people of their money while having fun doing it.

- He can cook. Contrary to him not eating normal food anymore he was once human. But he will look over cookbooks for a while if you tell him that you would like to try his cooking.

- He dislikes flowers, of course he thinks that they are beautiful but they do not live long. He gets sad because he links that thought to losing you. So he tries to keep those thoughts away from him.

- He absolutely loves shoes, he can rant and rave about them, when everyone was in camp he would like to go up to gale the most. He really liked his shoes, even going as far as stealing them. Only to have a grumpy gale walking through camp with his arms crossed pushing Astarion over and taking his shoes back.

- Astarion has to clean himself in his bat form as well as his normal form. So he takes extra long in the shower. But he gets so fluffy!

- He starts seeing a therapist after everything is settled in the underdark.

- He loves to give forehead kisses.

- Astarion loves to be called beautiful!! Call him beautiful often!!!!!

- When you ask him what his natural eye color is he thinks about it for a while getting back to you telling you that they were a steel blue.

- He does not have many things, but he wants to some day. So without him noticing you slowly start to give him little things here and there. Like an extra bedroll that you had, a blanket. Some new pillows, candles, anything that you can find that you think he would like to make him more comfortable.

- He loves horror movie nights!!!!!!!!!

-NSFW-

Ascension ver.

- When he is ascended he does not care as much if you get off first.

- He would be a lot more rough, biting much more feverishly and more often.

- He would give you head, but he would not do it for long.

- He knows exactly how good you are feeling, but will make you tell him.

- He is the dominant one.

- He will take up multiple partners as he expects you to do the same. He would go out of his way to ask if you would want to add another partner into your nightly activities.

- His sex drive would increase greatly.

- He sets a brutal pace.

- He likes to tease.

- He would not fall asleep after doing it, but he would ask you about what you liked and how he did.

- He lets you rest your head on his lap to fall asleep after.

Gale

-SFW-

- Man can sing. But mostly does it when he is bathing or concentrating. Quite interesting to hear for the first time when you are in battle together. Singing in a tired gravely voice before shooting off another spell.

- He tried to convince Tara to let him dress her up in a cute little outfit one time. He left around 30 minutes later covered in scratches. That is to say he does not make those comments anymore.

- He likes painting from memory, yes he can control the weave but he would like to have some sort of proof if there was ever a day when he could no longer handle the weave any longer.

- When coming back from a particularly hard day, if you massage his shoulders a bit he will melt into a puddle and fall asleep.

- His favorite juice is apple juice.

- Always likes books more than movies. Does not matter if it is actually a good movie.

- He keeps photos of you on hand so he can show his students. And they know so much about you and he wants to ask if you would visit his class to shed some light on recent events. Totally not an excuse for him to see you more.

- He likes his food hot, even his salads. All food needs to be hot.

- Loves silver jewelry, his wedding ring is silver with purple stones embedded into the ring. You have the matching version obviously but it is a wide band with white and purple stones honored on the ring.

-NSFW-

- He is into pulling hair, if things are getting a bit more rough. You are sitting on his lap. Getting into a very heated makeout session, in a heated kiss his hand snakes up onto the back of your head, seating itself into your hair. The other hand softly rocking you back and forth. He breaks away from the kiss. “You are quite breathtaking my love.” He says through slightly labored breaths, he grips and gently pulls on the hair at the back of your head. Swiftly latching his lips onto your neck.

- He does like when there is a bit of lightheartedness while making love, but it is serious so he will always go back to being more serious.

- He likes to lay in the sun after finishing, watching as you also bask in the light, he thinks it makes you look ethereal.

- He would go at a moderate pace, and would not have very good rhythm when he first starts.

- He thinks it is a bit romantic to have music playing while enjoying eachothers company. So there will be soft piano playing in the background.

- He definitely uses magic, mage hand would come in handy, being able to bind your hands for a little rougher session.

- He does not own any toys, but would be okay with owning some if it helped you get off better. He would end up enjoying it immensely.

- Public sex is something that he could be talked into. As long as it is somewhere where less people are. But there is still the thrill of possibly being caught.

- He masterbates from time to time, it is not often. But if you are not around and he is fully alone then he would enjoy himself.

- His stamina is not very high, but he can fully please you and a little more if he is asked.

Lae’zel

-SFW-

- She would keep a collection of rusted or busted knives to fix while at camp. It helps her calm down plus it gives her something to look forward to.

- She would eat dinner at either 5 pm or 10 pm no in between.

- Talks to herself all the time. Saying she is the best therapist she knows.

- Her favorite color is Silver.

- She likes to read before she goes to bed.

- She also likes to sit on a high point at the camp to look at the stars.

- She would be an astrology girl. And would believe it completely.

-NSFW-

- She is the top.

- She is a biter, lightly gliding her teeth across your skin. She loves to feel you shiver from the touch she is giving you.

- She is not loud, and does not want you to be loud either.

- She would be 100% serious in bed. No laughing, no jokes.

- She has a moderate sex drive.

- She is a C cup.

- She would not fall asleep directly after having sex. She would wait until you fell asleep before she would sleep.

- She would have a small collection of toys that she would bring into your sex life.

- She has a lot of stamina, she would want to go more than one round if you are up for it.

Wyll

-SFW-

- He liked bugs when he was a kid.

- He really likes spicy food, and will go out with Karlach to find it.

- Has a very big sweet tooth, and loves to share it with everyone in camp. He has a whole pocket in his pack dedicated to sweets. Giving them away to children you may meet. It makes him feel extra happy if there is a group that he can give it to. But he has a special place for candy that you specifically like, which he gives to you when you feel down.

- He loves Halsin, and goes to him for advice about his father.

-NSFW-

- He loves sensual romantic sex.

- He could get off to kissing. You don’t even have to fully have sex to get him all riled up.

- Man is cheesy, he will set this up when you are living together. Setting out roses leading from the front door to your bedroom. When you walk into the bedroom it is enveloped in a warm soft glow of candlelight dancing over the horned man laying across your bed that is also covered in flower petals in the shape of a heart. “Welcome home my sweet.” He would say in a sultry voice, getting off the bed to meet you. Taking a rose off the table and handing it to you.

- He would be really good at praising you.

- “Tell me how good I make you feel.”

- He is not very experienced, but that is okay, he is very willing to learn.

- He likes things to be more serious in the bedroom, but a soft giggle or smile would not go missed.

- He would have a slow pace, he would want to take his time and enjoy every moment.

Shadowheart

-SFW-

- She loves yoga. And will do it every chance that she has downtime to do it. But it is mostly just her stretching.

- She would be a Hello kitty girl, and would own so many of the stuffed animals.

- She hates classical and post- disco music. But would love R&B and jazz music. Shadow heart in the garden with soft music playing in the background. She hums along while you are on the opposite side of the garden. This was an activity that you both loved to do. She would be dressed comfortably in a shin length skirt that was covered in loose soil. She turned the music on a little louder, swaying from side to side as you both worked together, sharing in kisses here and there. It was quite an eventful afternoon.

- she hates orange juice. Like genuinely hates it and will get upset if you give it to her.

- Likes a good cup of tea. With very little sugar. But if she were to have coffee she would want a lot of sugar but no cream.

- She wants a flower garden.

- She would end up being a plant girlie.

-NSFW-

-She is somewhat experienced. Having done it with a handful of people at most.

- She would get her nipples pierced. I think it would make her even more confident than she already is.

- She is very confident in bed, she is fully okay with taking charge or letting you take control.

- She would try almost anything once. Outside of things that would hurt her too bad.

- When you are in the comforts of your own home she is really into bondage. Being bound really excites her.

- She is serious while doing it, you can laugh during it. But she does want it to be a more serious moment shared between the two of you.

- She would prefer a faster pace, it would drive her wild.

-She is a B cup.

Karlach

-SFW-

- She gets very protective of scratch, he lays near her when going to sleep for a very long time.

- She loves going swimming since it cools her down. But will refuse anyone to go with her since the water around her would get way too hot. And possibly boil anyone going in there with her. But that is in fact how she has gotten you dinner before. When everyone was literally starving and going off wine and grape soup for the 4th day in a row. Karlach brings back fish. And sets them on the table. She announced that we will be having something different for dinner than the normal everyone was so excited that they forgot to ask. Later on that night she told everyone. And was met with a still silence. Before someone cleared their throat and everyone went right back to conversation.

- She would drink a lot of water to try and cool herself down.

- Her favorite color is Blue.

- She likes doing yoga to stay limber.

- She smells like Vanilla and Amber.

-NSFW-

- She is the top, no questions asked.

- She would have nipple piercings if she could. But her heat would have them melting to her skin. So she just settles for real and natural.

- She is not very experienced. Since she was always fighting for others she never got to find much pleasures of the flesh. But don’t worry she is a quick learner.

- She would definitely be goofy in bed, joking here and there. But does know when to be more serious.

- She would enjoy slow and steady pace, she would also enjoy taking her time. But also loves a brutal pace from time to time.

- She is a D cup

Minthara

-SFW-

- She would jump out and scare children if she could.

- I feel like she eats the crust first on pizza.

- Despises ranch.

- She ends up wearing glasses later in life.

- She would only eat while standing.

- She likes red wine, and will always ask if you would like to join her in a drink.

- She becomes softer and a bit nicer when you start to get close to her.

- She could fall asleep standing up. She is also a really light sleeper.

-NSFW-

- Scary in a hot way.

- She would be into knife play. Holding a knife to yours not the other way around.

- Top.

Her favorite part of her partner's body would be the neck. Thinking that it could be the quickest way to kill you in case you threaten her. But also that it is so sensitive and gives wonderful responses when kissed.

- Gives absolutely amazing head.

- She likes the predator prey dynamic, finding it quite thrilling to chase before taking what is hers.

- loves to see you in skirts (if you wear them) Or really tight fitting pants. And will tell you all about it in confidence later.

- She is quiet, she does not moan too much.

- She is very experienced, she has enjoyed many pleasures of the flesh. And is ready and willing to show you everything she has learned.

- She is very serious during the deed, there would be no laughing.

- Brutal pace or nothing. She wants to go hard and fast bringing herself and you to a high quickly before doing it again.

- She is a D cup.

Halsin

-SFW-

- He walks around barefoot. You question how his feet are still intact from all the rough places that you have traveled together.

- He literally sleeps on the ground for more than half of the time he is in your camp. I think he just didn’t know how to bring up that he didn’t have a bed roll and just waited till he could buy one. He will never tell you that though.

- He cannot handle spicy food in the slightest.

Likes plum juice, and would drink it all the time if he could.

- He has joint pain, so he sits on the ground to relieve a bit of the pain and stress off them. He will often ask if you would like to join him for a walk. When you say yes you both walk together for a few minutes before he sits on a rock in the woods. You sit down next to him and continue your conversation. For a long while. You knew why you had stopped, This had become a favorite spot to stop for him while you are in this area. Before he got up and continued walking. He would give you a soft warm smile as you walked holding hands.

- He will carve you small gifts and sneak them into your pack as long as you have the room.

- he would partake in the grass. But would be away from anyone else so they are not bothered by him.

- He likes fruit and vegetables over meat.

-NSFW-

- He is quite fluid, anything you want to do or try he would be down to do it.

- He loves when you kiss his neck, the tenderness will make him melt.

- His ideal place to do it is in a field of flowers, or a forest area where there is a soft patch of moss.

- He likes to bite, gently of course. But he gives soft nips and bites any part of their body. Loves leaving hickeys.

- We all know this man is experienced, he is ready and willing to give you all of that experience.

- He can be goofy during, he likes when things are lighthearted but sensual.

- Animalistic pace, or soft and sensual no inbetween.

- High sex drive.

- He only masterbates when he has not gotten action in a long time. But would find a very secluded area to do so.

- It takes him a long time before he falls asleep after. But when he does he sleeps like a rock.

- he thinks you being smaller than him is very hot. Definitely has a size kink.

A little extra…

Rolan

-SFW-

- He thinks it is funny when people try to cast magic and it fails.

- He ends up taking on an apprentice.

- When he has down time he would read all the books that were in the tower.

- When he would go back to his tower after the events of the game he would be sad seeing many of the books, but went in to look for survivors that may have been inside.

- He was a spoiled child, but he grew out of the spoiled attitude.

- He is only sweet in private.

- He would not be into PDA. But does kiss you when no one is looking.

- He wants to be able to teach people magic. But, would treat them all wonderfully. He would be a great teacher.

- He would smell like cedar and old books.

- When he blushes the blush spreads over his face and up to his ears.

-NSFW-

- His favorite part of his partner's body would be their hands.

- He thinks that it is so hot to cum on your face and chest. The thought alone would make him cream his pants.

- He is not experienced. He has not been able to experiment while on his travels.

- He is loud, his moans can be heard from a fair distance away.

- He loves to degrade.

- Power bottom on a good day. Bottom.

- He can get really shy when asking for alone time.

- He loves when you take charge and tell him what to do.

- He has moderate stamina. But will only want to go for one round.

- He will fall asleep soon after finishing the deed.

————————————————————————

I'm sorry for any of them being shorter than others. I have not been able to do all of their story lines yet. I am slowly working towards finishing them all. So if any of my head cannons are very off from the characters I am very sorry! Thank you!!

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mysaintkitten · 11 months

Note

Choking Cillian Murphy 😩

(He's still dominating 😏)

Between Shoots | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

prompt: you and cillian have a bit of fun in his trailer (NSFW!! NO MINORS!! + in this fic cillian is single and it does not reflect him as an actual person, it’s all for the sake of the fic)

WARNINGS: reader is implied to be an actress, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, implied age gap (everyone’s legal), brief use of the term “little girl”, slight dumbification (my weakness im sorry), slight praise/degradation, creampie

word count: 1.5k

cillian was meant to be your costar. that’s all. you had to work with him on a few scenes, but you had no idea that you’d end up in his trailer riding him.

“that’s it, god, gripping me so nicely.” cillian moans into your ear, smacking you harshly on the ass.

you hide your face in his neck and whimper, riding him at a rough and desperate pace.

his hands move from your ass to your hips, keeping you in place as he pounds up unto you, making you mewl loudly.

“how’s it feel, sweetheart?” he groans, his voice low but sweet, it almost felt taunting. he knows how good it feels, he knows you’re speechless from his thrusts, he just wants to hear you struggle.

“i-its, ah!” you stammer, digging your nails into cillian’s shoulder, “good-d, hmm, ‘s good ..”

you hear him chuckle breathily, “i know, can feel you dripping down my cock, darling. that cunt of yours is gonna ruin this sofa.”

he wasn’t lying. your slick had coated his cock, spilled onto his balls, and formed a small damp patch between his legs. you knew you weren’t going to be drying up anytime soon, so you feel a small wave of humiliation.

“sorry .. m sorry ..” you whimper, “been so l-long since .. since i felt this g-good ..”

he slows his pounding, slowly rocking your hips to allow you to resume riding him, you quickly pick up on his hints and he clicks his tongue,

“aw, such a sweet girl. it’s alright, doll. you know how you can make it up to me?”

cillian really didn’t mind that your arousal spilled onto the sofa, he had the money to get it deep cleaned. he could buy a brand new sofa if he wanted to, but he had something else in mind.

“hm?” you whine from inside his neck

“look at me, or i won’t let you come.” he purrs, you pull your head out from his neck to stare into his icy blue eyes.

his eyes scan you, as he brushes some stray hairs from out of your face, “pretty girl, if you want to make it up to me, you can choke me.” he hums, running his thumb along your cheek and bottom lip.

your hips movements slowly come to a stop as you catch your breath, “you want me to .. what?” you question

“no, no,” cillian tuts, “i didn’t tell you to stop.”

you pick up your hip movements again, whimpering quietly at the delicious fullness he was providing you with.

“choke me.” he raises his brows at you. you’re still a bit confused, despite him being very clear on what he wants.

“cillian, i-“ you start, before he sighs, “sweetheart, have you been fucked stupid already? what’s so hard to get?”

you whimper at his sudden change in tone, but you kind of enjoy the degrading nature of his words. in all honesty, his cock was making your mind a bit laggy.

“i’ve just .. never done it before ..” you mumble, feeling your cheeks burn a bit more than they already were.

“do i need to show you, baby? dumb it down for you to understand?” his voice lingering with feigned pity, as if his words itself didn’t make that apparent enough. you can’t respond, every nerve ending on your body felt sensitive and overwhelmed. having to ride him while listening to his degrading words and requests was becoming embarrassingly difficult for you.

he smacks your ass again to get your attention, “watch.”

you whine loudly at the strike, bringing your focus back to him.

“i’m going to make this really simple for you, sweetheart,” he hums, “place your hand here,” he brings your hand from his shoulder to his neck, “now, grip the sides, and ride me. easy enough, darling?”

you nod and grip his neck, continuing to ride him.

a fucked out grin spreads across his lips, “that’s it, good little girl,” he praises, “such a good listener.”

you blush at cillian’s approval, your thighs shaking from being sore and from your approaching orgasm.

you continue to choke him and whine, watching how his eyes switch from your face to down to your pussy, seeing himself disappear inside of you. his eyes are half-lidded as they make their way back up to your face slowly, “prettiest cunt i’ve ever seen ..” he moans, placing both of his hands into your ass to grip the flesh.

“cillian ..” you whine, your thighs are vigorously shaking at this point, “keep your hand on m’neck, baby ..” he groans before thrusting up into you again while holding you in place.

his harsh thrusts allow you to not only feel your arousal dripping around him, but you hear how wet you are, he chuckles lowly.

“hear that, hm?” cillian purrs, “hear how messy that pussy is?”

despite your hand being on his neck, continuing to choke him, he’s still dominant. you never knew how much you’d enjoy this combination.

“y-yes, mmh, ye-s!” you whine, unconsciously gripping his neck harder as you try and find some grounding during his pounding.

he moans and this thrust start to become more jagged, “good, gonna come in this pretty little cunt.”

in the moment, you had completely forgotten that he wasn’t wearing a condom. your mind too fixated on pleasing cillian while simultaneously being extremely pleased by him, it must’ve just slipped your mind.

so, you beg. you beg for him to come inside you, not worrying about the potential consequences.

“yes, please, pl-ease!” you cry, “come-e inside me, clai-m me!”, your desperation is pathetic, but it fuels cillian like nothing else.

“yeah? want me to claim this pussy? come by and ruin it whenever i like?” he growls, his mind becoming fuzzy from the lack of blood flow and the intoxicating grip of your cunt.

you whine at the thought, the idea of being a little fuck toy for cillian. his own personal fleshlight to use whenever he needed a warm and wet hole.

“yes! god, yes!” you moan loudly, anyone passing by his trailer would’ve heard. but you didn’t care, and cillian certianly didn’t care either.

your orgasm sneaks closer and closer, your pussy involuntarily clenching around him irregularly, he’s pushed over the edge, breathing heavily and groaning loudly as he shoots his hot load inside of you.

when you realize he’s come, you shakily remove your hand from his neck.

you huff and remain on his lap with his cock still inside you, running your hands along his pecs.

he brings his wrist up to his forehead and swipes some sweat off, “did y’come?” he breathes,

you shake your head no, “it’s okay, though, i can get my-“ before you can finish he’s snuck his fingers down between your legs, rubbing your neglected clit.

you whimper and clench around him again, the overstimulation making him growl.

you were already so so close, it won’t take much to make you come at this point.

“did so good .. sweet little girl, even sweeter cunt ..” he hums, smiling weakly at you while his free hand runs along your waist and thighs, rubbing your body in a calming manner.

“cillian .. cillian i’m close-“ you whimper, screwing your eyes shut as your body begins to twitch from his touches.

“i can feel it, darling, come for me.” he responds, and after a few more rubs you’re coming on his cock, covering your mouth to try and stifle the loud moans you knew would be escaping your lips.

although he wishes he could’ve heard you shout as you came, he knows it was probably the better bet to keep you quiet. people had certainly heard you two, maybe nows the time to have the slightest bit of decency.

he allows you to ride your orgasm out on his cock, gritting his teeth through the sensitivity.

once you’re done, he pats your thigh, “off, sweetheart, i’d love to keep this going, but i’m too sensitive and we’ve got another scene to shoot.”

you scoot off his lap and you’re brought back to reality. you just slept with your costar, who you’re going to have to continue to film with as if nothing happened.

he stands up and grabs a damp face cloth to clean himself off with, handing you a separate cloth to do the same.

as cillian stands there, sliding on a clean pair of boxers, you look down at the sofa beneath you and feel yourself blush at the undeniable wet stain you’ve left.

“want fresh panties?” he asks, tugging his jeans back up.

your eyes shoot back up to him, prior to the sex cillian had done an extensive amount of foreplay. you had only a skirt on, so a thin layer of fabric separated your warm core and his touches. you were soaking through your panties before he gave in and finally fucked you, so you reply “yes, please.”

he searches around the trailer briefly before clicking his tongue, “sorry, love. i haven’t gotten any. guess you’re gonna have to go without.”

your eyes go wide, “i can’t! i have to wear a skirt, cillian!”

he just grins while slipping your old panties into his bag, “you’re shooting with me, it’s nothing i haven’t already seen.”

your thighs clench at his words,

“maybe i’ll even get a glance of my come spilling out of you,” he coos, “do you think you’re professional enough to continue acting while you feel my seed dripping out of you?”

—

happy halloween (eve) to y’all who celebrate hehe !!

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #hope y’all like this #:)#request

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lucy90712 · 1 month

Note

Hiii, I was wondering if you could write some Marc guiu, him at his family party and always telling the reader he loves her and giving her kisses making her shy and hide under his hoodie. x

I’m not sure if that makes sense 😂 but .. yeh

A/n: this is awful I’m sorry

I have spent countless hours with Marc's family, after he introduced me to them for the first time and we got on well he has taken me to his house when they are around all the time. My family don't live in Barcelona and I don't get on very well with them as I had a tough childhood so being around Marc's family is really nice. Every time I see them they are always so sweet and make me feel so welcome which makes me feel like I belong in Barcelona a bit more.

Recently Marc has been really busy with lots of matches and training so we haven't got to spend as much time together as we would like. We weren't supposed to see each other until the middle of next week as Marc had a match yesterday and then his family were holding a get together for some extended family which he was going to. I wasn't supposed to go to this reunion of sorts as it's supposed to be for family only but after his match last night Marc texted me asking me if I was able to go as his parents wanted to invite me. I made sure that I was actually invited as I don't want to intrude on a family gathering but he assured me that his parents wanted me there as I'm family to them. I could've cried hearing that they think of me as family but those emotions were overtaken by nerves at the thought of meeting Marc's extended family for the first time.

Marc told me to dress up a little bit and I took that seriously so I sent him about a million pictures of different options for him to pick between and he picked a blue dress which matched what he was going to wear. He loves for us to be matching so we can take cute pictures and so that it makes it more obvious we are together when we are out. Being the gentleman that he is he offered to pick me up even though this party is being held at his parents home where he lives and of course I wasn't going to say no as I'm desperate to see him as I missed him.

He came and picked me up from my apartment about an hour before the party was supposed to start as he needed to be there before everyone else arrived but he wasn't going to miss the chance to pick me up. He arrived at my door with flowers for no reason just because he wanted to get me flowers which he does quite a lot because he's just the sweetest boyfriend. We spent a few minutes just stood in my apartment catching up on things that have happened since we last saw each other even though we've texted every single day we still love to talk about things again in person. The time came that we had to leave so Marc grabbed my hand and we walked down to his car where he opened the door for me like he always does before getting in the drivers side and settling his hand on my thigh which has become a habit of his when driving.

Once we arrived Marc's sister quickly stole me from Marc so I could help her with her hair which is something I often do for her when I'm around. The two of us get along really well she often asks for advice from me as I've been through school and know what it's like to deal with all the drama and sometimes we gossip about Marc especially when he's around as we both know he hates it. Today she was telling me how glad she was that I was able to come as Marc hasn't shut up about how much he's missed me and how much he's been sulking about the fact that we haven't seen each other all week which I thought was cute but naturally his sister thought was cringe.

After a while there was a knock on the door and Marc came in and wrapped his arms around my waist and shoved his face into the crook of my neck. There are times that he can be very clingy but that's usually only when we are alone as when his friends around he's busy laughing with them and when his family are there we always refrain from too much pda. I'm not a huge fan of pda in general but especially around Marc's family as I don't want them to feel uncomfortable plus I hate people knowing the way we interact in the privacy of our own places. As much as I hate it on a normal day it felt nice to have Marc close to me tonight as I've really missed him this week.

"Can I have my girlfriend back?" Marc asked

"If it means you stop holding onto her like she'll disappear if you let go then go ahead" his sister laughed

That was all Marc needed to pick me up over his shoulder and carry me back downstairs while I protested. I was so worried that my dress was too short and that I'd flash his family despite me having shorts on underneath but luckily none of them were in the living room when he reached the bottom of the stairs and put me down. Just as we got downstairs the doorbell rang and people started to arrive Marc's parents welcomed people in and then Marc introduced me to everyone as they came to greet him. Meeting this many new people makes me nervous usually but after meeting the first few people I relaxed quite a lot as they were all so nice.

Everyone sat outside talking and eating the food that had been ordered I sat on my own out the way watching as Marc talked to some of his aunts and cousins. I assumed he was talking about football and his recent matches as that seems to be what everyone knows about. He smiled at me mid conversation and then he beckoned me over so I got up and joined him. Within seconds he had his arms around my waist as he got me to stand in front of him so I could join the conversation. As I talked with his aunts about my plans for the future and university Marc pressed the odd kiss to the top of my head or my temple which made me blush every time but I tried to keep the conversation going.

Over time more people joined the conversation and somehow I ended up sat talking with all of Marc's female relatives. Marc stayed by my side the entire time he didn't really say anything but he kept and arm around me and pressed kisses to any part of my face he could reach whenever I wasn't talking. He also whispered lots of compliments in my ear and told me how much he loved me over and over again. I know he was doing it because he's missed me and he's feeling clingy but it feels like he's just trying to make me blush in front of his family.

"You two are such a sweet couple" one of Marc's aunts said

"You remind me of when I first met your grandfather although he stopped once we were together it's nice to see young love" his grandma said

"You better not let her go Marc girls like this don't come around often" his cousin said

"I don't think we have to worry about that he always wants to see her and he's always talking about her" his sister complained

"They are very sweet together I'm glad Marc found someone like y/n she's such a lovely girl and they make such a lovely couple" his mum said

All of these compliments made me feel really shy. Compliments in general make me feel shy but hearing so many people say nice things about me and my relationship made me want to crawl in a hole and never come back out. I could feel that my face was on fire so I know I looked like a tomato. I hid my face a little in Marc's chest as I didn't want his family to see how much just a simple compliment makes me blush. Marc just smiled at me as he always says he thinks it's cute how shy I get but right now I wanted to wipe the smile right off his face but I can't.

The rest of the night was a lot more chill as I spent most of it just with Marc until everyone left and he gathered some things so he could stay at mine. I was exhausted after spending all evening talking to people so we both got changed and got straight into bed. Marc got in bed after me but as soon as he was under the covers he was already pulling me close to him so I was resting on his chest as that's his he likes us to sleep.

"Thank you for coming today I think it's pretty obvious but my whole family loves you so you are more than welcome at family events from now on" he said

"I'm glad they all like me I always worry about what people will think of our relationship" I said

"Well you don't need to worry about it everyone important in our lives thinks we make a good couple so if anyone else thinks any different they don't matter" Marc said

"You need to stop saying things that you know will make me blush" I laughed

"But you look so cute when you blush I love when you get all shy because then you hide your face in my chest and that might just be my favourite thing that you do" he said

I didn't know what to say to that so I just kissed him and settled down to go to sleep while thinking about how nice it is to have a second family who love me more than my own family and a boyfriend who treats me so well.

#marc guiu x reader #marc guiu imagine #marc guiu #football imagine

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rivetingrosie4 · 6 months

Text

Sweet Love (Morgan & Family: A Fluff Dump, Pt. 3)

credit to @foundynnel i believe for the edit above

𑁦𐂂𑁦

Summary: Part of a modern au (and post gang) fluff dump work. Arthur & reader visit the doctor’s office to see their baby for the first time. Some thoughtless rudeness threatens to derail their happy day. a/n: It’s just imaginary. It’s not real.

Tags: fluff without plot, fluff & angst, romantic fluff, hurt/comfort, protective Arthur, parenthood, mentions of sex, romantic teasing

Word count: 4,250

The paper underneath you rustles as you swing and bounce both feet at the edge of the exam bed by your ankles; but you can’t help it. Never in your wildest dreams did you actually think you’d ever get here.

Yet here you are, with Arthur by your side, filled past the brim with the most effervescent sparkles of nerves and anticipation. To actually see your baby. Your baby. Yours and Arthur’s. No one else’s. The product of your deep and steadfast love. After so very many, many years of so deeply pining, watching almost everyone around you know the precious gifts of their own children and parenthood, it’s finally your turn. Finally. It’s almost too much to hope for and be grateful for, all at once. You never thought you’d ever get here.

Where you lie waiting in the sterile obstetrics room, you glance to look at Arthur. He’s clad in a blue and green plaid lumberjack’s soft flannel. And he’s filled with just as high a mound of bubbly nerves as you—some of the same, but some of a different kind. Anxiety and excitement, longing and terror, all stirred to the beautiful hue of Arthur Morgan’s heart, the only one you know so well. You can tell by the way he labors to silently breathe in, holds it a beat, and purses his lips to produce protruding cheeks as he silently releases, so you might not hear it. By the way he shoves his fingers back through his honey-chestnut locks. By the way he taps the sole of his black leather boot—the pair with the classic western flourish above the toe that you love so much—against the floor’s shining white tile.

You bite your lip against a growing grin and reach to slip your fingers into the natural pocket created by the web of his relaxed hand.

At the contact, he glances to you, and his face immediately relaxes into a knowing smile, eased by familiarity, love, and the renewed comfort you gift to him. His large hand clasps around yours, and his thumb brushes your skin. You join him in a growing smile as you hold onto him right back.

Suddenly there's a knock on the exam room door, and as it opens, all at once the resting butterflies in your belly are spurred to fluttery life again.

You look to the door and sit upright, taking a shallow breath and gently holding it as the doctor walks in. He’s a somewhat older gentleman with graying brown hair.

“Here we are. Good m—” He tilts his wrist and glances at his silver watch. “Well I guess it’s not morning anymore. Sorry to keep you folks waiting.” He sits on a round stool with a black cushion, and its wheels sound out across the tile as he rolls it closer. “I’m Doctor Kellerman. Good to meet you.” He takes your hand by only the fingers and shakes it, then shakes Arthur’s. In the next moment, he’s glancing down to the paperwork on his clipboard. “How we feeling today?”

It takes you a split moment to put into practice the knowledge that you’re the reason everyone in the room is here.

“Oh! I’m feeling fine,” you smile at his downcast face, since he hasn’t looked up from your chart. Your hand instinctively slides forward to rest on your belly, though it doesn’t look much bigger than usual, with the flab you store there. “Fit as I’ve ever been,” you airily chuckle. Looking to Arthur at your side, you smirk. “We’ve been staying as active as we ever were, or maybe even more so.”

“Yeah, it’s been more,” Arthur quietly mumbles with a chuckle in confirmation.

“Getting outside, and eating all the leafy greens, and…takin’ naps when I need to,” you chuckle as if you’ve made a fine joke. “I even got him to do stretches with me every morning!”

The doctor glances up with a genuine smile. “That’s great to hear.” Just as soon, his eyes return to your chart. “I see your last period was…”

“January thirty-first,” you finish for him.

“Ahhh… Valentine’s baby, eh?”

You fight not to warm as you steal a glance at Arthur with a pinched smile. “Guess so.”

“You’ve been trying many years?”

“Just about a year and a half.”

“Thirteen weeks…” he says as he flips a page back and forth, then looks up at you. “You’re in a little later than we usually like.”

As he glances back down, you clarify, “Yes, this was the very soonest they could get us in for our first appointment.”

“I see…” he mumbles.

“But we cleared our schedules for whatever they could give us, the very soonest,” you add, looking to Arthur for a nod, then back to the doctor. “We’re takin’ this baby very seriously. Doin’ everything we can to keep ‘em healthy and happy.”

“That’s great,” he responds with a smile as he finally claps the chart closed and returns it to the counter. “Seems like you’ve got the right mentality,” he says as he turns to wash his hands at the sink. “Keeping yourself as healthy as you can be is a great place to start.”

“Oh yes,” you smile. “I’ve been reading up on everything I can, researching, even watching YouTube videos.” You suddenly gasp a little in excitement. “I saw this one lady on there, she’s always been an avid hiker—and, well, we love to hike too,” you glance to Arthur, whose smirk gradually grows to a grin in conjunction with your eager babbling, though it’s unknown to you after you’ve returned your gaze to the doctor. “And she captures these beautiful videos of her hikes. And now she’s seven months pregnant and still hiking! I could hardly believe it. Of course, she doesn’t manage the big, tasking hikes. And she never ever goes alone!” you assure the doctor. “But because she’s been taking it slow and steady, she’s still hiking! At seven months!”

You grin as you finish your story, though the doctor’s back is still turned to you. “I just think it’s so wonderful. I’d love to be able to do that. Do you think I’ll be able to do that, doctor? Take gentle hikes at seven months?”

“Uh… Maybe ten years ago. But with a geriatric first-time pregnancy?” He tips his head as he switches on the ultrasound machine. “Probably not.”

Just like that, you feel as icy as the vast and empty planes of snow you had experienced with the gang in Colter, some years ago now. The high, craggy ridgelines you’d squinted at from above your wool-lined collar, their peaks untouched by anything but the flakes that fell and gathered in the tors and the winds that yowled and whistled.

Your smile from moments ago softly falters, and your brows slowly pinch up tight. But you fight hard to keep your staggered smile as the tears rush to your eyes.

What was there you could have ever done? How had it ever been a circumstance you’d had any power over, whatsoever? How had it ever been a gift you could manufacture from nothing? If it had been, you would have seized it years ago. How many years had you ached, your hope dwindling as your age grew? And did all those years now mean nothing? How often, how continuously, how deeply had you longed for love of your very own with a partner and children of your own; had longed for just one chance to jump at? Just one single chance? But hadn’t life kept it all far away from you, so far, for so very long?

It was life, nothing but life—this thing that has always simultaneously coursed through you and encased you in its cruel, clamp-like vise. Like a vital coffin.

As Arthur watches you, he recognizes the graciousness and understanding of your trying to maintain a smile through your depth of feeling and hurt, not wanting to be as fragile as you think yourself to be. He knows you to be strong.

It’s why he has to reel back his fury for a few moments, containing it to the single, elongated exhale from his nostrils as he leans toward you across the armrest of your exam bed and gently takes your hands.

Reaching for a box of gloves on the wall, the doctor asks, “You don’t have any allergies to latex or any cosmetic ingredients that you know of, do you?”

You quietly splutter and gulp as you shake your head and muster a calm, normally-toned, “No.”

Another knock on the door.

“Come on in,” the doctor says.

The nurse who brought you back to the room enters.

“They’re wanting to know if or when they need to set her up with an appointment for a future ultrasound,” she says directly to the doctor.

“Oh sure,” the doctor says, beginning to flip a big calendar on his desk as he waves the nurse closer. He murmurs to her in very quiet tones: “It’s advanced maternal age with high risk, elderly primigravida, so we’re gonna wanna do another in about three months.”

You have no recourse but to silently, slowly breathe through an open mouth and swallow repeatedly past the lump in your throat, as your smile finally disappears in full. But Arthur couldn’t be more spellbound or enchanted as he watches the tears remain clung to your eyes, not one trickling down your beautiful cheeks.

“Possibly one additional,” the doctor continues his discussion with the nurse, completely oblivious to the inner struggle to prevail that he’s spurred in you, that no one but Arthur knows you’re conquering. “But we’ll wait to see how the next ultrasound goes, and if both are healthy, she won’t need another.” He points to a square on the calendar. “Barring other appointments, why don’t we do this day?”

The nurse nods and retreats through the door, closing it behind her.

“We’ll have to do abdominal, rather than vaginal, since you’re further along than usual for the first ultrasound,” the doctor says. “All right,” he sighs as he turns to you with a grin. “Ready to get started?”

He’s greeted with your puffy, red eyes that look everywhere else and Arthur’s white-hot, enraged glare, trained dead-center on his forehead. And his smile slides off his face.

The legs of Arthur’s chair squeak against the tile as he abruptly stands. He can’t even be bothered to attempt a kindly mask to hide his fury.

“Doc,” he begins, managing an easy and lighthearted tone for the address that somehow seems more menacing when combined with his fatal expression as he turns him and walks him toward the door. “Why don’t you and I have a little chat.” The terse word is tart and clipped on his tongue. “Out in the hall.”

You watch Arthur’s tall, broad form disappear when he pulls the door closed behind him.

You sit alone in the exam room, waiting.

A few unintelligible words, low and quiet—Arthur’s voice, muffled.

Then the wall is hit hard with something and rattles. Before it can finish shaking, there’s a new acerbic sharpness in Arthur’s raised, growly tone.

You must’ve gasped and jumped a little, and your damp eyelashes still blink with the sudden shock. You might’ve even made out the sound of a panicked, huffed grunt in the midst of whatever happened on the other side of the wall.

After a moment, the image comes to you, very vividly: Arthur suddenly taking the doctor by the collar of his white coat and ramming him up against the wall with a few deadly words, a stern snarl to his lip, and a feral look in his eye.

A prickly, chilled mingling of emotions washes over you—amazement, disbelief, even a bit of near-horrified abashment, and worry that Arthur will receive unfavorable legal repercussions. But there are a few emotions that stand above the others, though you’d initially struggled to decipher their shape and quality. The wondrous stirrings of the deepest love. The warm and enveloping sensations of being protected and cared for. Even desire.

The tiniest twitch of a smile flicks onto one corner of your mouth.

There are several minutes more of quiet—during which your thoughts start to return to the horrendous notion that Arthur could be apprehended for assaulting the doctor—before the door finally reopens and Arthur reappears.

His caustic expression from minutes ago is wiped away. His smile is easy. Relaxed, even. Void of a hint of tenseness or concern.

“Hey, babe,” he says. “Sorry we took a while.”

At the sight of him, and knowing at least part of what he’s done, your mouth quirks and tightens into the kind of little smile you know you shouldn’t be wearing.

As he walks towards you, a slight lean to the side gives you the vantage point to see none other than a completely different, female doctor towing behind him.

Her grin is bright, buoyant, and—somehow, given the circumstances—even completely authentic and natural. Uncoerced.

As Arthur settles in close beside you again, you mumble very quietly from the side of your mouth, “I sincerely hope there won’t be any arrests today…?”

“Nothin’ to worry about, just take it easy and look at the screen,” he mumbles between his teeth in a light, wry tone.

You stifle a chortle behind your nose, imagining what possible kinds of threats Arthur could’ve employed, how dreadfully terrified to his core the doctor must’ve been to not only allow a switch of caregivers, but to willingly and practically forget the whole incident.

“Good afternoon, I’m Doctor Mahajan,” she says warmly, extending a hand. Her handshake is full and comforting in its grasp. “I’ll be conducting your ultrasound today. And before we get started, I want to let you know that, should you remain healthy and well into your third trimester, and should you feel up to it, there’s no reason you couldn’t enjoy healthy activities such as gentle outdoor hikes.”

Like a kid who’s just opened up a new toy, your grin widens as you look at Arthur. His knowing grin is better than a snuggly blanket as he gazes at you and nods once with a wink.

“Always accompanied, of course,” the doctor smiles with a gesture towards Arthur. When she looks back to you, your gaze is pulled to hers in an effort to give polite attention. “You’ve got a good one here, Mrs. Morgan.”

You immediately turn back to Arthur with a warm, enamored, affectionate smile.

Noting the enraptured, desirous way you both gaze at each other right there in the middle of the exam room, the doctor is reminded of something.

“Oh, and um,” she begins, bringing a finger to her lips as if in thought, “another healthy activity during pregnancy is lovemaking.”

You immediately turn to look at her with an inward breath, your smile momentarily wiped away. As an airy laugh comes to you, the others are given reign to chuckle. Chancing a glance at Arthur, you try to hide the smile appearing on your mouth by curling your lips inward and pinching down on them tightly with your teeth.

Arthur is leaned back casually in his chair, his forearm resting over his thigh. When you catch sight of the look on his face—a subtle mixture of gratification and mischievousness all veiled by an attempt at nonchalance—a thought crosses your mind. But it’s too silly to be real.

Then when he meets your eye and fails to prevent the rising smirk at the corner of his lips, you outright gasp.

“You didn’t tell her to say that.”

When he wheezes, you swat him, and he sits up with a snicker.

The doctor chuckles pleasantly. “He may’ve asked me to remind you, but it doesn’t change the truth of it.” While you’re busy continuing to playfully swat him and listening to his snickering that you adore, the doctor continues, “It increases blood flow, stimulates activity inside the womb, lowers blood pressure…” she rattles off, “and keeps you two close, which’ll be very important during such a big life change.”

“There now. Did you hear the good doctor?” Arthur says, trying to force the mirth on his face to smooth. “I’ve got a bonafide prescription to sex you up.”

Though you can’t help but giggle, you keep it murmured low and quiet, like simmering, scratch-made strawberry jam in the base of your throat. “Shh-shh,” you try to quietly scold him.

“I’ve reviewed your chart, so let’s get started, shall we?”

“Oh yes, please!” you return your attention to the doctor.

After gloving up, Doctor Mahajan flips on the ultrasound computer to your right. She asks you to lift your blouse and unbutton your jeans, and she squirts a chilly gel to your belly. You watch as she gently presses the transducer into the gel on your belly, turning and rolling it over your skin.

Your and Arthur’s gazes are transfixed to the screen as fuzzy, meaningless blotches of black and white suddenly play across it. You both simultaneously scramble to reach for each other’s hands, clasping tightly to each other as Arthur takes a full breath and slowly releases it.

The moment you have been waiting for your whole life. Now somehow finally, suddenly here.

The smudgy noise on the screen clears, and there’s your baby. Curled and caressed inside you. Precious and brilliant and beautiful.

Your breath is whisked away. Speechless and taken completely by incredulousness, you turn to look at Arthur with drawn brows. He tries to chuckle to play off his awe, but his breath is caught too.

“There we are,” the doctor quietly says. “Baby Morgan.”

Your gaze is arrested by your baby on the screen. The swooping slope of the curve of their head, ending in a little button for a nose. Arms and legs and feet.

“This fluttery bit here,” the doctor gestures to a point flapping swiftly in the midst of their chest, visually different from everything else. “Baby’s heart.”

Your bottom lip drapes wistfully open, and your eyes are glued as you take in every moment.

“Oh, see, they’re turning on their side, turning back,” the doctor smiles as baby’s limbs disappear for a moment and reappear. “It’s a little too early to tell the baby’s sex, but we should be able to see at your next appointment.”

She takes multiple measurements from head to rump on the screen, to verify your baby’s age and due date.

When the baby appears to give a few little kicks, the three of you quietly chuckle.

“Baby’s brain and sensory input are developing, so this is just a way for them to become more aware of their own body and their environment,” she explains. “It’s a little early now, but you’ll be feeling that before you know it.”

Reaching for a button on the keypad, she says with a reassuring nod, “I’m going to give you about ten seconds of audible heart rate, just to limit the amount of waves baby’s exposed to this early.”

When you both nod, she presses the button. A loud, quick wub-wub fills the room.

You take a breath and whisper, “Oh my God,” looking to Arthur with a faint smile.

Arthur is mystified. A single breathy laugh escapes him, but his expression is totally awestruck.

“Baby’s heart is very robust and healthy,” the doctor smiles.

And yet, Arthur’s is weak. Trembling with trepidation like stalks of overgrown sweet grass swept by ferociously rolling fetches. They have their anchor of earth to cling to. What does he have?

He gazes at the screen, into his baby’s current world of warm womb and peaceful, pocketed embrace. He watches his baby wiggle and kick, each movement so vibrantly charged. He lets his gaze trace his baby’s perfectly precious outline, the slope of their forehead and nose, the flutter of their strong heart. And he is a goner.

It doesn’t matter that he’s petrified his baby could be torn from him again. It doesn’t matter that he’s nervous he’ll screw everything up. He’ll go to the ends of the earth to make sure neither happens. He’ll do whatever needs to be done. He’s ready to dive headfirst into the risk of pain and heartache. Because in an instant, he’s been filled—overwhelmed and overtaken—with enrapturing love. Too big to grasp, too deep and beautiful and mysterious to have edges. A love that calls to attention and demands eager and ardent self-sacrifice. A love that somehow carries with it equal measures of unbridled, airy giddiness and heavy weight. A love that somehow nails to the beams of a parent’s life both an assured unworthiness and a boundless, indescribable gratefulness.

Because he is already so desperately, limitlessly in love with his child. Your child. Together.

You turn to the screen again and watch your baby move and bow and kick.

Your baby. Yours and Arthur’s. You’re not watching a video of someone else’s baby. You’re not dreaming and imagining. This is your baby. Your. Baby.

In these few instants that seem like hours, the face of your whole world and life and being have eclipsed and shifted. You’re completely overwhelmed. With love and joy—not at all more than what you have for Arthur, but different. It fills and quickens and overtakes you. So much that it almost hurts. So deep and resounding that it propels a new purpose and a new drive within you. So sweet and so precious that if you’d been standing, it undoubtedly would’ve brought you all the way to your knees.

“Baby.” You breathe it as you reach out and touch the flat surface of the screen, swiping your fingertips over the outlines and substance of your child’s precious form.

The culmination of your life’s dearest, deepest hopes and dreams and desperate longings. The manifestation of your and Arthur’s love. There, on the screen. But not on the screen.

“Oh-” You chuckle at yourself and sniffle as you bring your hand to your belly, above where the transducer meets your skin. For the screen only shows you what you can’t see inside.

Inside you.

Of all people, you. Finally you. Finally, your very own baby.

Arthur can almost read your thoughts as he watches your eyes redden and your face crumple like newspaper, sift like sand. And now, there are your tears. Overflowing and pouring down your cheeks in flooded streams. Not one allowed for the asinine doctor; whole oceans given for your child.

God, how he loves you. Didn’t think he could possibly love you any more, and yet, here it is. You are his anchor. He doesn’t need any other. And he is yours.

Wordless, you gasp and sputter and hiccup as the tears flow down both sides of your face in rivulets, dripping one after the other from your jaw.

Arthur thumbs the back of your hand, not offering you a tissue or requiring you to stop or hide your tears. He understands.

It’s another few minutes of enjoying your baby’s tumbling movements on the screen, before your tears finally slow and dry.

When you approach the jeep in the parking lot, you’re still awed and glowing with it, and almost wracked to fatigue by its powerfully engulfing wave—this love.

As you slip your hand into the jeep’s door handle, your thoughts turn to the man you love just as much, if not more. You couldn’t have thought it possible, but somehow your heart has expanded to accommodate all this added and immeasurable love.

Arthur bought the hunter green jeep as soon as he’d found out you were pregnant. ‘More of a family car,’ he’d said. Of course, that was nine weeks ago, and the jeep has already seen plenty of proper use—the splashes of dark mud above its tires from rugged, off-road terrain a clear sign of that.

You both climb up into your seats and fall into a natural rhythm of quiet breath after the jingle of the keys when Arthur leaves them in the ignition.

He looks over at you and watches your stunning face as you gaze forward, contentedly and placidly lost in your thoughts. To him, you’re made even more pricelessly, sweetly beautiful by the person you are.

“‘M proud of you,” he quietly muses.

You look back at him and start to smile. Out of all the things he could say first, that’s what he’s chosen.

“That was our baby,” he says, the low gravel in his voice now silken. “Just…”

“Amazing,” you say together.

You nod with a misty smile and gaze down at your belly before gazing forward through the windshield again.

He reaches for your hand and brings it to his mouth. “I’m gonna take you home and make sweet,” he presses a kiss to the segments of your fingers, “sweet,” another kiss to your fingers, “sweet love to you.” With that, he kisses the back of your hand. “Mama.”

You simply turn to look at him with a growing, winsome smile. His eyes flit up to yours in the midst of a kiss. It’s the very first time in your life anyone has ever called you that.

“All day and all night. And you best just get used to it.” He gently returns your hand to the seat and starts the car.

Your smile brightens to radiant.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he says with the glint of a wink. “Doctor’s orders.”

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effloradox · 2 months

Text

Means To An End

pairings: hitachiin twins x gn!reader, ohshc x gn!reader

summary: tensions are running high in the host club when the twins start to fight over a comment made by Haruhi. as their best friend, everyone expects you to have the answers but when you failed to notice any tension between the two of them, you’re left wondering if you don’t know them as well as you thought.

notes: set during episode 1.05 (the twins fight), works in the same verse as We Want You Here but is fine as a stand-alone fic too

word count: 2.2k

There’s trouble in the air. You’d say you can smell it, but with all the rose bouquets scattered around Music Room 3 it’s hard to get away from the floral smells that all your friends, hosts or otherwise, are perpetually laced with. Yesterday had been normal as far as you could tell, even if you had left school early for an appointment, but when the twins’ car had arrived at your home to pick you up to take you to school you’d been surprised to see them sporting new hair colours.

“Should I be worried about that?” The two of them raised an eyebrow in unison before your eyes drifted up to their hair. You couldn’t deny that the blue and the pink suited them really well but they’d never expressed an interest in dyeing their hair before. Not to mention how much their mother loves their natural hair colour. To dye it on a whim with no deeper purpose would be seen as a crime in her eyes. Yuzuha Hitachiin is not a woman to cross, you don’t want to think about the arguments had over this new development in the twin’s appearance. They exchange one more glance between themselves before Kaoru finally answers your question.

“It’s a means to an end.” You take a few moments to mull over the vagueness of his words, staring hard at the blue, before replying.

“Am I going to be dragged into the middle of it?”

“We’d prefer it if you didn’t.” At Hikaru’s words, the tension in the car seems to evaporate and you finally relax into your seat. You drop your bag onto the seat next to you, smoothing a crease in your uniform.

“Suits me just fine.” The rest of the journey is filled with small talk and petty gossip, just the way you like to spend your morning journey to Ouran. By the time the three of you have arrived at school you’re almost used to their new looks.

It takes until your lunch period for you to actually find out the reason for the twins’ weird behaviour. Your involvement in various clubs and extracurriculars had kept you busy and away from your friends aside from shared classes where you’d been too busy studying for upcoming exams to pay attention to your idiotic best friends. You finally had a moment of peace on your way to the dining hall when a commotion drew your attention. The pink and blue hair makes it incredibly easy to identify the twins and you can only watch in mild horror at the food fight that has broken out between the two of them. You’d been more than content to turn on your heel and head back where you came from when a foreign pair of arms grab you, pulling you down a corridor not far from the dining hall.

“I demand you tell me what’s going on with those shady twins!” It takes you a few beats to realise that it’s Tamaki that pulled you away. You’re more than used to being manhandled by the twins but Tamaki doesn’t seem like the type to do so unprompted to anyone but Haruhi. When Kyoya appears in front of you as well, you begin to suspect maybe he put the Host Club King up to the mild kidnapping he’s just committed.

"I have no idea Tamaki-Senpai.” Your words send the blonde into a predictable fit of despair and it becomes clear to both you and Kyoya that he will no longer be an active part of this conversation. The two of you are more than used to tuning out Tamaki’s breakdowns so it’s easy to pick up the conversation without his involvement.

“It’s in your best interest to tell us everything you know (Y/N).”

“They told me not to get involved. I’ve learned to trust them when they say that.” You can tell your answer hasn’t pleased the megane but you can’t really find it in yourself to care much. If the twins told you not to get involved, you’re more than happy to let whatever this is blow over without it affecting you as well. Since you’re not a host and whatever they’re doing doesn’t affect your classes together you’re more than happy to watch from the sidelines. If it truly is just a means to an end like Kaoru said it was, you can’t imagine whatever they’re doing will last longer than a day or two. “I’ll see you both at the club after class for my usual appointment.”

It’s only when you’ve started to walk away that Kyoya responds to your statement in a monotone voice that somehow feels more calculated than usual. “If things continue the way they have been, we might be unable to fulfil your usual appointment. We’re down a pair of loving brothers you see.” You stop walking at his final words, turning on your heel to face him.

“What do you mean?” Your question, plus the blank look that appears on your face, instantly brings Tamaki out of his fit as he looks at you with an expression you can’t quite read. You place it somewhere between bewildered and perplexed but there’s another part of it that you find yourself disliking.

“Haven’t you heard? Hikaru and Kaoru are fighting.” It almost feels like the world stops spinning for a few moments as you process Tamaki’s words. The problem is that the world starts spinning again and you can almost feel the system error taking place in your mind as you wait for the blonde to tell you he’s joking. When Tamaki doesn’t rescind his sentence you feel the first prickle of anxiety starting in the back of your mind.

“They don’t fight.” Tamaki merely blinks at you owlishly.

“They’ve been fighting since yesterday. It started at the club.”

"If they were fighting, I would know."

“Is it possible that you don’t know them as well as you thought?” Part of you knows that Kyoya doesn’t mean his question to sound as harsh as it does but it still stings somewhere deep inside you.

The twins might not have fully opened up to the host club yet but you know them. There’s no way they could be fighting; there’s no way you could’ve misread the car journey that badly to miss some sign that there was disharmony between them. They’re never fought in all the years you’ve known them.

“I’ll guess we’ll find out after classes are over.” Your tone sounds more defeated than you’d care to acknowledge and you’re quick to turn away from the two hosts before you spot any kind of pity growing in their expressions.

It’s almost a relief when your free period starts and you can spend your time as you wish. Normally you’d seek the twins out, or vice versa, but something about your earlier conversation with Tamaki and Kyoya is replaying in your mind and the idea of sitting and stewing in a crowded library sounds like the worst thing on earth. You find yourself walking through the grounds of the academy, hoping some fresh air and sunlight will do something to improve your mood. It almost works until you hear a loud shout from behind you.

“Hey! (Y/N) wait!” You start to quicken your pace when you hear two sets of footsteps coming up behind you but it’s not long before Hikaru and Kaoru catch up to you. They come to a stop a few paces behind you, waiting for you to turn around and face them. The bright colours of their hair make you feel sick.

“What gives?”

“Yeah, why’d you ditch us?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but you need to wrap it up soon.” It’s clear your comment isn’t what the twins were expecting from you when they flinch back at your tone.

“What're you talking about?" You narrow your eyes at them.

“Your means to an end. Whatever the end is, I hope it’s worth it.” The way the two of them look at each other when you speak sends a wave of irritation over you that you rarely feel towards your best friends. It feels like they're in on some joke that you've been left behind on and you don't enjoy the feeling.

"Don't be like that."

"Yeah, it's not a big deal." Hikaru's blasé tone does nothing to soothe your irritation.

"Kyoya seems to think it is. He also seems to think I don't know you well enough to notice that you're fighting." Your words get the first serious reaction from the twins as they look at you with an unreadable expression on their faces.

"When did Kyoya say that?" Hikaru's tone is cold and you can't tell whether that's directed towards you or Kyoya. Or both. Maybe both.

"During your little display at lunch. Him and Tamaki pulled me out of the dining hall to try and work out what the fuck is going on."

"He had no right to involve you."

"Yeah, it's none of their business."

"Actually it's entirely their business if it directly affects the host club. Which it seems like it has since Kyoya’s cancelling appointments.”

“It’ll be over soon, we told you.”

"I don't know why you're pretending to fight, but I want no part of it. You told me you didn't want me involved and I was fine with that but now I am involved and I want out."

"We didn't mean for this to happen to you."

"I know."

“We’re sorry.”

“…I know.” Kaoru is the first to approach you, waiting for your reaction. When you don't take a step back, he approaches and pulls you into a hug. His brother is quick to follow and the three of you spend the next few moments entwined in silence. You listen for their breaths and even your breathing so that you're all in sync.

Their synchronicity is an ability that is as innate to them as breathing and it always feels special when they let you in for moments like this. It's only when your breathing is completely in line with theirs that you begin to untangle yourself from their arms. The events of the day feel like they’ve hit you with full effect and you’re left feeling weary.

"I'm going to go home. I'll see you tomorrow." The twins let you go without protest, the weight of their gaze heavy on you as you walk towards the main building of Ouran. After muttering some excuse about feeling unwell, it’s not long before you’re in your car on the way back home and it’s all you can do to put the events of the day behind you.

When you wake up the day after, you’re honestly not sure what to expect when one of your maids tells you that the twins' car has pulled up to take you to school. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, in fact it'd be more unusual if they didn’t, so it’s not hard to see that your maids are confused by your hesitancy to go to school. You climb into the car and sit in your usual seat, barely looking up at your companions as you grab your seatbelt and secure it. It’s only when you look away from the seatbelt that something odd about the energy in the car hits you.

It takes you a few seconds to realise why something feels off. They’ve switched colours. The weight of their eyes on you makes you shift in your seat and the seatbelt suddenly feels far too restrictive.

“Aren’t you worried about frying your hair if you keep changing it?” The smiles that appear on your friends' faces immediately settle your anxiety. If this was some test, you’ve definitely passed it.

“No one else noticed.” In a way, you’re unsurprised by that. The two of them pretend to be each other so frequently that you can only imagine their house staff have long since given up trying to work out who’s who.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit cruel to give people a way to tell you apart only to pull the rug from under them by changing it immediately?”

“We don’t want everyone to know who’s who.”

“Yeah, it takes away from our mystique.” It’s a fair comment, one you can’t refute, but there still seems to be a gaping hole in their logic.

“Some people will still know.” You gesture to yourself as an example, watching as their smiles seem to get a fraction wider.

“Yeah.”

“You'll know.”

“Looks like you do know us well enough after all.” Hikaru’s words take you by surprise. The three of you have never been the type to be overly doting on each other and you’re not sure if you’re reading the situation right.

“You did this for me?”

“Of course!”

“Can’t have Kyoya thinking he knows everything, can we?” Hikaru’s words touch you in a way you don’t think you’d be able to put into words, and as soon as the moment is with you, it’s passed; as is usually the case with the twins.

“So! You missed the craziest love confession after school yesterday…” As Kaoru goes into a tirade about some poor girl who tried to confess to Haruhi, it’s all you can do to bask in the moment of harmony with the two of them.

A/N: I’m kind of obsessed with the concept of the twins having this long suffering friend figure in their life, I think it’s such a fun avenue to go down with Ouran fics.

#my writing #fics #gn!reader #ouran high school host club x reader #ohshc x reader #hikaru hitachiin x reader #kaoru hitachiin x reader

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middleearthpixie · 1 year

Note

Can you please write a fic where Thorin falls in love with a human girl, but he thinks she is disgusted by his looks? 🙏

Hi there, Nonny!! I know it took me forEVER, but here you go and i hope you like it! 💜

The Harp

Summary: You and Thorin are friends, but then you find out his feelings for you run deeper, and he’s holding back because he feels he is not good enough for you.

Pairing: Thorin x fem!Reader (post-sack of Erebor, pre-quest for Erebor)

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

He came into the dining room at the same time each evening and always sat at the same table—the one in the far corner, which was also the darkest corner of the room. He was polite, but kept to himself and you noticed how he always sat with his back to the wall and rarely did his eyes pause from scanning the room.

The other diners eyed him with just as much suspicion but then again, they all eyed each other with suspicion as well. It was second nature to this lot, as they came from all four corners of Middle Earth. No one was actually from Emyn Vanya. No, every warm body had come from somewhere else to this tiny village on the outskirts of everywhere and yet somehow in the middle of nowhere. Some came to start over. Some came to forget. Some came to do both and some were just passing through. But everyone was from somewhere else and almost no one wished to discuss where that somewhere else might be.

You couldn't help but notice him, for he was a dwarf and the Grey Gander did not see many dwarves in their dining room. And not only that, but he was a handsome dwarf, to boot, with black hair, touched here and there with hints of silver, that spilled over his shoulders in a long tangle of curls. His most striking feature was his eyes, however, for they were the most piercing shade of icy blue you’d ever seen. There was a hardness within those pale eyes, one belied by his polite demeanor and deep, if soft, voice.

Night after night, this man came in alone. He sat alone. He spoke to no one other than you when you approached to take his order, just as you did this evening. He was polite, if reserved, and spoke only when absolutely necessary, which was an interesting change from the patrons who grew louder and more opinionated as they dove further and further into their cups.

“Welcome back,” you said with a smile as you approached him. “Might I fetch you a drink to begin?”

“Thank you. A tanked of ale would suit.”

“Of course. And do you know what you’d like or are you still trying to decide?”

He looked up at you with those striking eyes. “The hunter’s stew.”

His order never varied and you were certain you could just bring him a bowl of the stew without asking, which was why you couldn't resist a bit of playing with him. “I think we should start calling that your usual. Perhaps we should change it on the menu itself.”

That earned you one of the dwarf’s rare smiles. “I am not so certain that is necessary.”

“Well, you’ve been in here eight of the last ten nights and have yet to order anything different.” You couldn’t help teasing him. You sensed a hint of sadness in him, one that might explain the hardness in his eyes. And while it was a bit of a risk, teasing this man you didn’t really know, you had to admit, his smile made the risk worthwhile.

“But,” you added, taking your teasing further than you normally did, “you would have to tell me your name first. I certainly cannot ask to rename it Dwarf Stew. That would give the wrong impression, don’t you think?”

A darkness flashed through his eyes and you knew you’d overstepped. Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with something to smooth over his obviously ruffled feathers, knowing your employer would be furious if your flippancy drove away a paying customer. “I mean… that is… I apolo—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, shaking his head, “there is no need to apologize. And you’re right, it would sound odd. So, I suppose then, it would only be fair to tell you my name, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart beat a little faster at that. Perhaps it was but your imagination, but his voice sounded lower than it normally did. Lower and bit growlier. Had he, by any chance, noticed you the way you’d noticed him?

No, that was madness talking. Very few people noticed you aside from being their serving girl. You tended to blend into the background far too easily and since so many people in Emyn Vanya were only passing through, they paid little heed to you.

Still, that didn't stop you from replying, “It would, yes.”

To your surprise, that earned you a laugh. A genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh and one that sent flutters through you as it rolled across the small table in your direction. Like his voice, it was low and silken, and those flutters made you forget your own name for a moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, his eyes meeting and holding yours, “I am Thorin.”

You offered your name in return and added, “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Thorin.”

“And yours as well.”

Heat climbed into your cheeks and you ducked your head, saying, “I will be back in a few moments with your ale,” you hesitated, then added, “Thorin.”

“I will be here.”

Thorin sat back as you darted off and couldn't believe his cheek. What had possessed him to even think to flirt with you? Your interest had to be only because he was a paying customer, because there was no way a woman as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in him.

The first time he stepped into the Grey Gander, he’d noticed you at once, noticed how easily you smiled and joked with the tavern’s patrons. Your laughter was a silvery melody that made everyone turn in your direction and smile even if they had no idea what it was that made you laugh.

He noticed everything about you—from that amazing smile and intoxicating laughter to your beautiful eyes and easy grace with which you moved about the crowded dining room. You never seemed impatience, or irritated, and even when someone gave you a hard time about something, you never lost your temper and somehow managed to defuse the most volatile of situations.

The second night he’d come in, he’d witness such a scene, almost reaching for his sword, propped against the table, when the giant of man actually grabbed you by the arm. He had no doubt he’d have intervened if you needed it, but you didn’t. You smiled at the man as you peeled his fingers from your wrist and very sweetly informed him that if he touched you again, you’d turn him from a rooster to a hen in one fell swoop.

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

A foolish notion at best, as you would never feel about him the way he did you. Why would you? He was a dwarf. He had no home. He had been in line for a throne, but now supported himself by moving from place to place, taking work where he could find it.

That was what brought him to Emyn Vanya. His trade was blacksmithing and the village needed one. So, there he was, in the dining room of the Grey Gander, admiring you from afar and wishing he stood a chance at winning your hand.

It was just as well, for what did he have to offer you? A king with no kingdom was no better than a pauper, really. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t compete with the men of Emyn Vanya, who were all taller, slimmer, and far more attractive than he certainly was. You would be a fool to even consider him.

But, he watched you from afar, watched as you moved from table to table, how you brought a beaming smile to the face of an old crone, how you soothed angry children bickering over a toy, how you made a crying infant smile by making silly faces until they could do nothing else.

How you focused on him as if he was the most interesting man in the room and not, for lack of a better phrase, a homely, homeless refugee.

If only…

He sighed as you approached with a tankard in one hand. His heart beat so much faster when you met his gaze. His mouth went as dry as the plains between his lost kingdom of Erebor and the city of Dale after the dragon Smaug torched it from one end to the other.

You set the tankard before him. “Your supper will be ready in but a few minutes, Mr. Thorin.”

Mr. Thorin. He smiled, shaking his head. “No Mister. Thorin is just fine.”

“Oh, well that wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Your eyes almost sparkled as your easy smile curved your lips. “After all, we only just met.”

“This is true,” he nodded, reaching for the tankard. Then, on impulse, he added, “Perhaps you might join me one evening?”

You looked taken aback and he immediately berated himself silently. You fool! What is wrong with you?

But then you smiled. “I think I would like that. I have an off night tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

He was stunned, not only by your agreement, but by your suggestion. No woman ever approached him that way. He’d always been the one to ask. You were bold and he admired that. So, he nodded. “That would work just fine for me.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

“Half seven it is,” you told him. “And I’ll be back in but a moment with your supper.”

****

What were you thinking? How could you just blurt out an invitation to him that way? He must think you a harlot, or a wanton woman for doing so.

But at the same time, as you smoothed a hand along your skirts, you had to admit, you looked so forward to seeing him without having to wait upon him. It was a nice change of pace for you. A break in the monotony of your life that was work, sleep, and more work.

You’d told him where you lived, a rundown little flat above the florist’s shop, and at half eight, when the knock came at the door, you nearly jumped clear out of your skin. Then, laughing at your foolishness, you hurried to the door, before he thought you’d changed your mind and left.

You smiled as you pulled open the door. “You are early.”

“I allowed myself extra time in case I found myself lost. I’m still new to these parts and this town takes a bit of getting used to.”

“If you remember the streets run east and west, and the avenues run north and south, you might fare better.”

He bobbed his head. “I would, but there are three florists on this street alone.”

“It is a very competitive business in Emyn Vanya.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

You hesitated a moment and then stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he stepped over the threshold, you tried not to dwell on how shabby your flat was, with its scratched and scuffed hand-me-down furnishings. After you paid your rent and made certain there was food on the table, there was not much money left for luxuries such as nice furniture. Normally, it didn't trouble you. This was your home and you thought it cozy, if a bit rundown. But, when you tried to see it through Thorin’s eyes?

You saw exactly how awful it must have looked to him. Threadbare sofa. The armchair had a hole in the cushion thanks to a broken spring, which meant that not only was stuffing peeping up from the hole, one received a nasty poke in the backside, should they think to sit there.

And of course, there was that awful water stain in the far corner. You had no idea from where it had come, only that no matter how much you tried to paint over it, it bled through. You’d given up trying when paint fell into the luxury category.

But, he reached up for the frogs at his throat and then whisked his cloak off to drape over his arm. “This is lovely.”

Lovely? You looked about, wondering exactly what he found so lovely about it. “It’s a bit… ah… worn, don't you think?”

“Lived in, is how I would describe it.” He smiled at you. “Homes should be lived in. That is how they become such. Otherwise, they are but houses, flats, nothing more than buildings.”

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.”

Then he looked back at you and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. Did he have any idea whatsoever as to how handsome he truly was? Because if he did, he certainly did not act as if he did.

Of course, you kept that to yourself, especially when that night, a deep friendship was born. You had dinner together on the nights when you weren’t working. You spent off days together, sometimes running errands with each other, sometimes just doing nothing. He had a knack for the acrostics printed in the village newspaper and the two of you spent your share of days or nights looking up which answers you thought would work. It didn't matter. He had quickly become your dearest friend and while you loved that, you’d also begun thinking that perhaps there was a bit more to your relationship than only friendship.

It was too bad he’d never given any indication at all that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

So you stayed quiet. Autumn gave way to winter and the Yule holiday was only a few days off when you made your way to Thorin’s forge at the northern end of town. A bitter cold wind whipped down the narrow alleyway where his shop was located and you didn't have to look to know you were near it. The carved wooden sign identifying the forge creaked on its hooks as it swung in the wind. Through the swirling snow, you could still make out the word etched into the wood.

Blacksmith

Beneath that word, Thorin had carved symbols as well, and when you’d asked, he’d smiled and explained that they were a language called khuzdul, which was his native language, actually. He’d attempted to teach you some of it, and showed nothing but patience as you fumbled over seemingly simple words. Little by little, though, it became easier and left you wishing you had something like that to share with him.

But then you found something. One night, over several goblets of wine, he confessed that he once played the harp, but had lost his when he’d lost his home, but that was all he would say about either the harp or what happened to his home. So, you’d saved a bit of your pay each week and put it aside and then went to the music shop at the far end of town and found what you’d hoped would be a suitable replacement harp. It wasn't a big, grand instrument, as those were far beyond what you could ever hope to afford, but you hoped he’d like it the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited and impatient to give someone a gift as you were this one, which was why you braved the worsening weather.

So there you were, at the far end of a gray-shingled building with a roof in need of repair, listening to the almost melodic sound of metal striking metal. The closer you drew to his workshop, the warmer the air grew and as you rounded the corner, a blast of heat hit you square in the face. It was a welcome sensation as your cheeks felt quite numb from the cold.

He had his back to you and heat shot through you at the sight of him, shirtless in deference to that blasted heat, the muscles in his back and along his shoulders bulging as he held a piece of iron in one hand, a hammer in the other. The clang rang through you when he brought the hammer slamming against the iron, again and again and you couldn't help but just stare.

Your eyes roamed over his naked back, heavy with obviously well-earned muscle, and inked with black lines of varying sizes that covered his entire shoulder, stretched across his back, and into the opposite shoulder as well. You had no idea what the symbols and lines meant, but they looked very similar to the ones carved into the forge’s sign, so your guess was they were dwarfish runes or words.

The heat in the forge was brutal regardless of how cold it was beyond the walls. Sweat prickled along your back as you stepped closer. You didn't want to startle him. The iron with which he worked began with an orange glow, but slowly, as he pounded it flat, the glow faded and when he set down the hammer and used a pair of tongs to pick up the flattened piece and thrust it into a tub of water, steam actually rose from the tub.

“Thorin?”

He jumped, letting go of the tongs as he spun around and now heat shot up into your cheeks at the naked chest you found yourself staring at. Like his back, his chest was just as broad, with black hair swirled from one nipple to the other and down across his belly. More symbols had been inked across it, meeting with the design on his left shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” you stammered, tearing your eyes from that impressive sight to meet his startled blue eyes, “I was trying not to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

You hugged the package close. “I had to go and pick something up and thought while I was out, I’d stop by.” You peered around him, at the iron still resting in the water. “What are you making?”

“A sword.” He reached for the towel draped over the workbench and swept it across his forehead. “You should not be in here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I will come no closer then. But tell me, who commissioned the sword?”

“No one. It is mine. I work on it when I’ve a bit of free time.”

“Might I see?”

“It’s not even close to being finished.” He came around the bench and stood before you. His black hair was damp at the temples.

“You don't have to stop on my account, you know.” You took a step closer to him, the urge to reach out and touch him so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed you. You wish you had the courage to tell him how you’d come to feel about him, as you’d had when you’d left your flat. You’d left there full of fire and determined to confess your feelings for him, but unfortunately, by the time you reached his forge, that courage evaporated like the water in the tub had.

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

“Not at all. I think it would be fascinating, watching you work.”

His gaze shifted slightly to his left and you followed it to see what he looked at—a heavy dark gray henley lay draped over a chair by his desk. Without thinking, you shifted the package to one arm and reached out to catch him by the upper arm as he stretched for his shirt.

“Wait, don’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t?”

You nodded. “I—what is this?” You traced your fingertips along the thick black lines curving his shoulder, unable to believe your own brazenness but unable to halt your touch as well.

“It’s my… my… it’s a raven,” he managed, his voice deep and huskier than usual. He cleared his throat. “The symbol of my clan, and my family crest.”

You could not keep yourself from tracing along those lines as little by little, the image of a raven wearing a crown slowly showed itself to you. You’d held back from telling him how you felt for so long, now that the opportunity to perhaps go beyond friendship had presented itself and you were not about to let it slip by. But… you had to be careful. It was a delicate matter and that called for delicate handling. The last thing you wished to do was destroy your friendship with him.

With that, you lowered your hand “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for you, by the by.” You pressed the package toward him. “I know Yule isn’t for several more days, but when I went to pick this up, I grew far too impatient to wait.”

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

“Well, you have to open it to find out.”

He took the package and slowly unwrapped it and then just stared, his blue eyes growing shiny as he murmured, “How did you know?”

“You told me, silly.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “Remember? We were talking about how my neighbor plays the harpsichord and how awful it sounds and you told me you once played the harp. So, I asked Mr. Trumble if he could find me a harp for you and he did me one better. He made this.”

“He—” those blue eyes met yours, wide and incredulous—“made this?”

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

He gazed down at the harp, and then back at you. “I—this—this is beautiful. I thank you.”

“There is one condition to it, however.” You nudged him once more. “You must play it for me.”

“Oh, I couldn't now. I’d be far too rusty.”

“Well, once you flake off all the rust.”

“Fair enough.” He offered up a smile brighter than any you’d ever seen from him. “You shouldn’t have done this, though. Save your wages, don’t spend them on me.”

“I didn't mind.” You shrugged as if you spent that kind of money all the time. “And it’s Yule, so it was but a small sacrifice.”

He stepped closer. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, you know. I will treasure it. And you.”

And with that, he leaned in and to your surprise, pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, caught by utter surprise, as this was the last thing you’d expected him to do. For one maddening moment, you wondered if perhaps you were just imagining it.

But then, his lips moved softly against yours and your toes actually curled in your sensible boots when he brought his hands up to cup your face, and you knew that this was, in fact, actually happening. And how wonderful it was! The sensations that rippled through you were soft and sweet, the crisp, coarse hair around his mouth tickling at first, but then you found you didn't mind it so much as it was a caress of its own.

Your head did a slow spin, his kiss leaving you lightheaded and when your hands came to rest on those massive upper arms of his, your fingers pressed into muscle that greatly resembled stone of their own accord. You were afraid your weak knees might buckle on you at any moment.

His kiss was slow and sweet, teasing and gentle and when his lips parted and his tongue swept gently along yours, your head spun even faster. A rush of heat swept through you. Your lips tingled. Your heart beat harder and faster and it took every bit of will you had to not melt right into his arms.

When he drew back, his eyes were soft, swirling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and he seemed as breathless as you were as he murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time now.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I do and I did and now I just want to do it again.” Then he paused, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, into his eyes, “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.”

“No, I’d not rather that at all,” you told him, smiling as you curved a hand against his cheek. “In fact, I’d like it very much if you would do it again. And again. And I think you should keep doing, no matter where we might be.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his chest. “So, I am not about to send you screaming into the snow?”

“Hardly.”

“Are you certain? I mean,” he rubbed his bearded jaw ruefully, a sheepish smile coming to his lips, “I know people whisper about me and poke fun at me behind my back.”

“They whisper about you because they are fascinated by you. And no one pokes fun at you. I know they think you’re quite an excellent smithy, judging by what I’ve heard. And I won’t even tell you what the women say about you.”

To your surprise, his sheepish smile faded and a darkness came to his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“Have I said something wrong? I thought I was complimenting you. Do dwarves not like to hear how handsome they are thought to be?”

“Handsome?” He snorted as he shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but I’ve seen my own face and that is not how I’d describe it.”

“Well, perhaps you should but have Mr. Sinclair examine your eyes, for you are not only handsome, but very handsome.”

He stared at you, clearly not believing a word you said. “Thank you, but you are just being kind, as you’ve been since we met.”

“Thorin,” you caught his hands in yours, “I’ve been wishing you’d notice me as more than simply your friend, that you’d kiss me, and perhaps I’ve been too brazen in taking the first step. If you wish me to leave you alone, I will.”

“Leave me alone?” His eyes went wide and he shook his head once more. “No, no, I don’t wish that at all. In fact, I—”

A scarlet flush swept up into his cheeks and he went quiet. You waited for him to continue, your heart hammering away at your ribs. All you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms, to tug you flush against that massive chest, and kiss you until you forgot your name.

“You what?” you asked softly.

“I lied. About the sword.” He smiled then. “It’s for you, actually. For Yule. I meant it to be a surprise.”

“For me? But I don't even know who to wield one.”

“Worry not, for I will teach you. When the weather breaks.”

“You did this for me? You would do that for me?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for you, you know.” His eyes softened then as he smiled. “I love you.”

This was the last thing you ever expected him to say and you could only stare at him for a long moment, as your stupid brain forgot how to process words. The best you could muster was a whispered, “What?”

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but how could I when I thought you would be embarrassed to be courted by me. So, I relegated myself to knowing we would only ever be friends, but now…”

“Embarrassed to be courted by you? Are you mad, Thorin? Are you absolutely and completely mad? Because you would have to be to think any woman alive would be embarrassed to be courted by you.” You shifted to wind your arms about his neck. “And no one has ever made something for me. At least, not something as beautiful as a sword. So, if I didn't already love you in return, I would have most definitely fallen at this moment.”

He smiled. “So, all this time, it would’ve only taken a sword to win your hand?”

“I’m a very simple woman, Thorin. You should know that by now.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he eased his arms about your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leaned closer, his lips just brushing yours as he murmured, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You tried to think of something witty to reply with, but then his lips met yours once more and rendered words unnecessary.

***

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samgirl98 · 1 year

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Forgotten Demon Twin 3/?

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Danny meets the Batfam. He almost gets what he wants

So, apparently, COVID and lack of sleep really get my creative juices going. Enjoy this next chapter.

Danny followed Damian with a distance between them. He had left the wakizashi behind but had hidden a few non-poisoned needles up his sleeve.

He studied his twin’s body language.

Damian seemed open, if a bit tense. He kept his posture non-threatening, probably to take Danny off-guard. Danny could hear the chatter in Damian’s comm. No doubt his father and other so-called siblings.

(Danny only had one sister, and she was asleep at home.)

They ended up in the park at three in the morning.

Danny wished he could put all this behind him and sleep. As always, though, his needs weren’t considered.

Danny could see the small group of people semi-hiding in the shadows with his enhanced senses. They all looked up when they heard Damian and Danny walk up to them. All of them got defensive when they saw Danny, though they tried to be subtle about it.

“Father, meet Danyal. Danyal, meet father and everyone else.”

“Boo, you suck! Introduce us, brat,” a man with white and black hair (who reeked of death, but who was he to judge) said.

“Seriously, you little demon, that’s your introduction,” a sleep-deprived teenager asked. (Honestly, sleep deprivation was such a mood.)

“Baby bat, how could you,” a blue-eyed young man asked. (Actually, a lot of the boys had blue eyes and black hair.)

The rest of the group started berating Damian for his introduction.

Danny was stunned. If anyone had even thought about doing that to Damian while in the League, they would’ve ended up with a sword through their chest. Here, these people were treating Damian like a snot-nosed younger brother…and he was letting them.

“Children,” the older man yelled out, “Enough!”

(An older man was haunting Bruce Wayne, but Danny ignored the man dressed as a butler. It wasn’t his business.)

Damian’s face got smug as everyone else quieted down. Some of them (the eldest among them) started pouting.

The older man, Bruce Wayne, walked up to Danny and held out his hand. Danny stared at it for a second before shaking it.

“It’s good to meet you, Danyal.”

“Danny, but you already knew that, didn’t you, Mr. Wayne?”

“Please, in that same vein, call me Bruce. And, yes, I have done a little bit of research before coming here.”

“Hn,” Danny hummed out.

“Great, another non-talkative one,” someone murmured.

Danny looked at the group and noticed that the sleep-deprived teenager suddenly seemed very alert with his calculating, narrowed eyes. Hmm, he would have to keep an eye on that one; he seemed like the most dangerous one. Not physically, but intelligent wise…well, Danny has learned to fear smart people.

He let go of Mr. Wayne—Bruce’s hand. (The older man following Bruce smiled gently at Danny.)

“So, to what do I owe this…unexpected pleasure,” Danny asked.

Everyone turned to look at Damian. The Heir seemed to be, was that embarrassment?

“Yeah, Demon Spawn, why don’t you tell Danny why we’re here?”

“Fuck off, Todd,” Damian hissed out.

Todd grinned. (The butler—he had to be a butler—frowned at Todd’s cussing.)

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Children, please, not before introductions.”

“Yeah, B is right. Anyway, my name is Dick,” the eldest said. He got Danny’s hand and shook it.

“On purpose,” Danny asked.

Dick laughed good naturally.

“My parents weren’t from the US and didn’t know the word's second meaning. By the time I found out, I was attached to my nickname.”

The one who stunk of death spoke next.

“Name’s Jason. I’m the second,” he was interrupted by the petite Asian girl.

“Ahem.”

“I mean, I’m the third oldest.”

“Hello. Cassandra Cain. The second eldest. And you’re my new baby brother!”

Danny blinked, “Cassandra Cain? As in the ‘One Who is All’?”

The girl nodded while giving a thumbs-up. Danny gulped. He was so screwed.

“Tt, she’s not that impressive.”

Danny gave Damian a skeptical look for the first time in his life.

“Hi, I’m Duke Thomas. Why is your aura so weird?”

Danny blinked at the random question.

“Don’t know, dude, radioactive chemicals, maybe?”

Everyone stared at him with a look of horror.

“I’m joking.”

“Oh, hah,” Duke laughed, uncomfortable.

“Tim Drake,” sleep-deprived teenager said without adding anything else—honestly, mood.

“Of course, father already introduced himself, and you know who I am,” Damian said. He always had to have the last word, huh?

The ghost spoke last (not that anyone else would know.), “I’m Alfred Pennyworth. I know you can see me, Master Danny. It is a pleasure to meet you, even if it is after my death.”

Danny ignored the ghost.

“Great. Now, back to my original question: why are you guys here? If the League is gone, why bother with the unneeded spare?”

Everyone, minus the ghost, shifted uncomfortably. Even Damian. Danny narrowed his eyes; something big was going to happen.

“Danny,” Bruce started, “we found out about you recently—”

“Yeah, very recently,” Jason said.

“—and we wanted to meet you. We—I needed to make sure you were fine. I missed so much and could not protect you due to my lack of knowledge of your existence. I want to know if you need any help, and if you don’t, I’ll be here whenever you need it.”

Danny let Bruce’s words sink in. It didn’t take long for him to put the puzzle pieces together.

“Talia never mentioned me, did she?”

He turned to Damian, “Neither did you.”

Damian looked down at his feet, looking ashamed. Danny narrowed his eyes.

Too little, too late, brother.

Danny took a deep breath.

Here I go. It’s time to sell it.

“Look, I appreciate you checking on me, but I’m fine. I have a loving family and an awesome older sister. All of my friends are here. Amity Park is my home. I don’t want to leave. Please, I was never able to ask anything for myself. I'm asking now, begging, let me stay in Amity.”

“I have looked into the Fentons and have read some disturbing things,” Bruce said.

“What, the weapons? They can’t harm humans.”

They didn’t need to know Danny wasn’t fully human anymore.

“Not only that but a portal to the afterlife.”

“So my parents are a bit eccentric. If it makes you feel better, I can give you a full, unabridged copy of their work,” Danny lied. No way in the Infinite Realms Danny would give the freaking Batman more ammunition to take Danny away.

The ghost butler frowned at Danny’s lies and gave him a look of disappointment. Hah! The jokes on him that didn’t work on Danny.

“What about the reports of these so-called ghost attacks?”

Danny waved off the man’s concerns, “They rarely happen, and when they do, we have our own hero who takes care of it.”

Bruce gave him a calculating look. Cassandra was whispering in Tim’s ear. While she spoke, Tim started narrowing his eyes at Danny. Dammit, this was why he hated intelligent people. Danny was a decent liar, but he couldn’t come up with something if there were more than one detective.

Not to mention, he heard rumors about Cassandra’s abilities.

Time to bring out the sob story.

“Please, I don’t want to leave the only family I have ever known.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze. Bruce felt the boy was hiding something. He’d have to ask Cass what she saw.

“Maybe we should let him stay, B. We can always keep in touch, can’t we, little D?”

Danny nodded vigorously. Bruce almost gave in, but he had to ask.

“What about the report of the city being pulled into an alternate dimension? The Justice League hadn’t heard about this, and I know you know that I’m Batman. You could’ve reached out whenever to let us know.”

“I don’t know. It didn’t occur to me. The threat wasn’t that bad. There were just a few more ghosts than usual. Besides, other cities have seen stuff like this. We have two heroes, and the citizens got together to fight the threat.”

“So, there was a threat.”

“Listen, dude, I’m not here to assuage your guilt. I want to stay with my family. I deserve that much, at least, right?”

Danny refused to break eye contact first. He stared down the Batman; he knew the man wouldn’t kill his family, so he felt confident asking for what he wanted. After a few moments, Bruce sighed. Danny knew he had won.

“Young man, you should really tell your father the truth.”

Danny ignored Alfred. He wasn’t the boss of him.

“Okay, I’ll choose to believe you,” Bruce took a card out, “but if anything happens, and I mean anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

Danny had almost been home free. A few more minutes, hell, seconds, and he would’ve gotten away with his lies and well-crafted half-truths.

Of course, that’s when everything went to shit.

Danny’s ghost sense went off. Bruce’s gaze narrowed, and Tim asked, “What was that?”

Before he could come up with a lie, he heard him. Fucking Skulker.

“I’ll have your skin, whelp,” he shouted and fired.

Danny didn’t think. He transformed and put up a shield around the group.

It didn’t even take Danny 10 seconds. He took out his anger on the so-called hunter and sucked him up in the thermos. He was going to get a month of soup time, at least!

Danny turned toward the stunned group.

“Um, surprise?” He said while giving jazz hands.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed in anger, “Well, Phantom, is there anything you’d like to say?”

“This is why honesty is the best policy, young sir.”

“Um, you’re all dreaming?”

Bruce crossed his arms.

“Really, Danyal? You thought that would work?” Damian asked, angry.

Tim was looking at him with triumph in his gaze. Dick looked disappointed, and Jason looked entrance by Danny’s predicament. Cass was shaking her head, and Duke was, weirdly enough, blocking his eyes.

Fucking Skulker, man.

“I think it’s time you told us the truth.”

Make that two months of soup time.

Danny sighed and hovered in the air, crossing his legs. He might as well get comfortable.

Yay, Alfred has appeared. Danny was a bit rude, but considering what Damian did to him when they first met, I think Danny was being downright pleasant

Danny: Lying through his teeth.

Tim: This little bastard isn't telling us everything.

Danny: Gets caught in the lie.

Tim: Ha! I knew it. Once a demon always a demon

yeah, Tim is a bit prejudiced, not that we should completely blame him after what Damian did to him

#Forgotten Demon Twin #dc x dp #dp x dc

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tw1l1te · 6 months

Text

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼- 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 3

Part 3! We finally get to Wars, Sky, and Wind! WIND IS PLATONIC ONLY DON'T BE GROSS

Warnings: possible suggestive themes (AGAIN NOT FOR WIND), angst, mental health topics, scars/wounds

⋆｡°✩

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖗𝖘

21-22 years old, one of the captain's of the Hylian Army. Zelda offered him a higher rank (general I'm assuming) and a position on the Hylian Council, but he refused almost right away.

Pretty tall, an inch above Twilight, but still shorter than Time

Blonde hair, shaggy but in a fashionable way. Idk y'all, he makes it work

Leaner muscle, double pierced lobes, wears chain linked earrings when at fromal events but usually sticks to his signature blue hoops

Can't read Hylian that well, but can understand/speak several languages, such as Twili (Twi is kinda jealous)

The strategist of the group. He was always under a time limit during the war, so he knows how to handle a tricky situation quickly and efficiently most of the time

Went to school in his developmental years, though was recruited at around 14-15 because he was way better in the fighting field than in academics. It worked out for him though, so he's not complaining.

As much as he cares about appearance and fighting for his country, he hates balls/formal events. The fake interactions and smiles make him sweat and he usually leaves an hour into them. He'll suck it up if you're there with him though

Closest to Time, Wild and Legend ironically enough. Wild and himself can relate on the aspect of being in the Hylian army, and they typically talk about how their experience was. Legend and him mostly bicker, but its all fun n' games. Time and Wars are essentially the higher-ups, though nobody actually says that, its just been silently established.

Super wary of Y/n, especially with his expriences with other dimensions and eras. He was honestly convinced you were part of Cia's plan or the shadow, since your timing seemed a little convenient, but you've gained his trust little by little, maybe a little too much.

Unlike his usual demeanor with women, he doesn't outwardly flirt with our protagonist. Yes, he throws a few quips here and there when appropriate, but he respects Y/n. He doesn't see them as everyone else. He has them on a pedestal towering over everyone

Has scars from the war, duh. He was mostly up close in the front lines, so a lot of slashes and nicks. Has a pretty bad burn on his left arm from Volga's fire, it's healed but still pretty scarred on his skin.

𝖘𝖐𝖞

20-21 years old, the "Chosen One".

Average height, light freckles across his face and shoulders, he was living right under the sun, you can't tell me he doesn't have freckles!!

Also... sleeper build. I said it. He has a sleeper build and boy when Y/n first sees him shirtless?? AWOOGA-

I headcanon him as having a gigantic triforce insignia tattoo all over his upper back. It was part of his ceremonial return, more on that later.

Suprisingly very school smart for falling asleep in class all the time. Sun was and still is very jealous of his natural smarts.

Has his lobes pierced, wears small red hoops. He wants to get more stacked piercings, a loftwing feather to match with Y/n in the future, who knows?

Doesn't have the biggest sweetest tooth, but he does love pastires of almost any kind. Pumpkin ones are his favorites, though Y/n's cinnamon rolls are quickly climbing up the ladder.

One of the most conflicted about Hylia and the whole "following the goddess" thing. He s=has insomnia because of it, causes him a lot of anxiety.

He was very depressed after his journey was finished, as he didn't identify as anything else besides a hero, and since his purpose was completed, he was nobody.

Struggled a lot with isolation and self-deprecation right up until joining the Chain. He still struggles with it, despite it being years later.

After meeting you and learning about your similar struggles of identity and burden's of mental health, he felt so much less lonely. Sure the Chain were his brothers and they knew what he had been through, you really understood him. You went through the same thing, you knew what it felt like.

Close to Hyrule and Four, but probably most attached to Y/n, even before the romantic feelings set in. He's got a big heart.

Biggest sleepyhead. Will sleep almost anywhere, especially if he's exhausted.

Hobbies include woodworking and playing his harp, but recently took up making a piece of jewelry for Y/n. He's been working on it for months, adventuring prevents him from working on it too long. He wants to give it to you during the winter festival, when you're all his.

𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖉

little shit

...

I would say I'm kidding, but he is :3

around 13 I wanna say, it's only been about a year since his adventure.

Short, duh, but his growth spurt is kicking in. He's catching up to Y/n, and you are not excited to be the shortest in a few years.

Sandy blonde hair, a bit wavy. Somehow always has a tiny bit of sand in it, no matter how many times he washes his hair.

If you think Twi or Hyrule had the biggest sweet tooth? HELL NO

If Wind ever found out about energy drinks or soda/pop, we're done for

Not the best in terms of speaking and reading Hylian, though being a pirate has helped him develop his own colorful vocabulary

Very skilled with up close combat, though the others hardly ever let him be on the front offensive

Similar to Wild, likes taking pics of anything (mostly weird faces that the others make)

Y/n and him clicked INSTANTLY. He might've not trusted them immediately, but they were best friends super fast. Wind has helped you get through homesickness by tellng you his own stories about his home.

"Captain" of Tetra's ship, or that's what he believes

Everyone knows Tetra's in charge though

Struggles a bit with alcoholism, being a pirate and all kinda leads you to be reliant on alcohol. The boys are trying to help him with it, but its the main coping skills he uses when after a high stress situation or he's feeling lost mentally.

Everyone sees him as a little brother, despite how much of a little shit he is >:3c

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe au #final promise au #linked universe headcanons

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megumisgirl · 1 year

Text

too hot. a game where the two players kiss without stopping and touching each other. if one player touches the other, s/he loses. the winner gets to do whatever they want with the loser.

megumi x fem!reader

on a regular day, you wouldn't indulge in stupid games with your best friend-- megumi. specially at a party. you were a sloppy(-horny-)drunk, and you kept the horny to yourself.

"come on, y/n!" yuuji whined, dragging you as megumi stood behind you. you turned to look at him with a pleading look so he'd help you with yuuji. but he just looked away.

as much as megumi hated you being drunk, he kind of secretly loved it. how you would bat your eyelashes at him, how touchy you would get, kissing his jaw, going lower and lower till he has to forcefully stop you. the only thing he hated was how you forgot everything the next day because of your bad tolerance.

"megumi! tell him i can't!" you whined, yuuji wheezed, dragging you in the private room. nobara, maki, inumaki, yuuta sat in a circle, waiting for the three of you. "guys!" you whined.

"there they are!" nobara said, angrily. " 'bout time!" you groaned as yuuji pushed you. you sat down beside nobara as megumi sat opposite you. you smiled at him sarcastically as he smiled back at you.

"we have an exam tomorrow!" you whined, the group boo-ed as you raised your hand up, signalling peace. nobara put the bottle in the middle and leaned back.

"so, we're playing too hot. whoever the two people lands on, must kiss untill one of them breaks it, or touches the other. winner does whatever the fuck they want with the loser." nobara smirked, "and i mean... whatever."

naturally, your eyes went to the raven haired man in front of you. his eyes were already focused on you. his blue eyes now almost seeming black, with lust, greed and hope. you took in a breath, blinking, hoping you imagined that. his eyes, however, stayed focus on you. how you squirmed under his gaze, your nervousness as the bottle spinned. you watched yuuji and inumaki kiss awkwardly and inumaki telling gojo to flash his abs at the new freshmen students as punishments. you were actually having fun.

as everyone settled down again, the bottle spun. your heart beating inside your ears as the bottle stopped. shit. everyone "ooh"ed as you looked up to see megumi. the boy's cheek crimsoned as maki nobara nudged at you.

"kiss!" she cheered. you looked at her with wide eyes before you looked at megumi again.

"he's my best friend!" you protested. megumi's heart cracked everytime you said something like that. he's just a friend. you're my best friend, megs. but when you were drunk, you'd just blabble the truth. you're so kissable. i wish you would let me kiss you more often. can you rail me, please? he knew you never really meant that, but you did. drunk words are sober thoughts.

"tuna mayo." inumaki said.

"yeah! he had to do what he was said, we even kissed!" yuuji groaned, "you have to as well!" he pulled you towards the center as inumaki pushed megumi to the middle. "inumaki's breath smelled like swiss cheese." he mumbled.

"mayo."

"NO I DID NOT LIKE IT!" yuuji screamed. you looked at megumi who didn't say a single word since you two arrived. you breathed as you brought yourself closer to him.

your lips hoovering over his before he inisiated the kiss. nobara from behind brought your hands to your back, saying something. but the sounds stopped. everything stopped when your lips crashed with his. his tounge swirled over yours as you bit back a moan. moaning in front of everyone while you kissed your best friend would've been an embarassment you couldn't live with.

unconciously, your hands went to his hair, pulling him close as the buzzer rang in your ears. "y/n loses!" yuuji grinned widely, winking at megumi. "fushiguro! you're the winner, what's her punishment?" his blue eyes went to yours before you blushed brightly. your mind still processing the kiss that happened.

"i'll take it from here." megumi said, standing up as he dragged you with him. your eyes wide as the other "ew"ed at you. he dragged you through the various rooms, till he found a good one. he opened the door, pushing you inside before he locked it. your back was still turned to him while your mind ran scenarios of what could happen right now.

you turned out to face the raven haired boy. he just looked at you, savouring every inch of what he was going to destroy. his hands cupped your face, his eyes scanning yours. "not drunk.." he mumbled, taking your hands as he checked your pulse, "not drugged." his eyes went back to yours, but you stared at the two of your hands connected. his large hands practically absorbed yours.

you looked up at him when his hands slowly went higher, caressing you in the slighest way. "megumi..." you breathed out, "what are you doing?" you asked. he didn't answer right way, his hands snaked to your neck, and then the back of his hands caressed your cheek before you leaned in his touch. closing your eyes, letting the dim purple light beam through your eyes.

"what i should've done years ago." he said, before pulling you by your neck and crashing his lips into yours. you moaned at his rough movement before you moaned in his mouth before he guided you to the bed. you slammed on your back before you pulled your sweatpants down. you didn't a chance to breathe before his lips was on yours again.

"megumi..." you moaned as his lips nibbled at your neck, your jaw, your earlobes. his hands roamed around your body, pinching, rubbing and caressing every bit of free skin he could find. his hands went inside your hoodie, pinching your nipple. "ah!" you moaned in his mouth. he groaned as your hands went to his buldge, palming it over his sweatpants.

with one swift movement he took of your skirt, leaving you only in his hoodie and your panties. he pushed you into the bed, the matress sinking as he lowered himself right in front of your pretty cunt. his long slender fingers rubbed you over your panties, you bit your lips, trying to calm the moans that were in your throat. the loud chase atlantic music coming from outside, the loud thumps making your heartbeat faster than it already was.

pushing your panties aside, he ran his fingers through your slick folds. you whimpered, your legs spreading unconciously. he looked up to see your face, head thrown back, hair sticking to your face from the sweat, your face red and mouth slight agape. you felt his gaze as you lowered your head. your eyes hazy and vision blurry.

he pulled your panties and threw it somewhere with your skirt on the floor. wrapping his arms around your thick thighs he yanked you closer to him. you yelped at the sensation. his tounge flickered over your bud, licking, kissing, sucking. doing anything to make you feel good.

you arched your back, pushing yourself further into his mouth as you felt your orgasm near but he stopped. you panted as you opened your eyes, your mascara smudged from the tears and your lipstick anywhere but on your lips. "this is a punishment, remember?" he smirked, you whined. a sharp slap to your pussy. you jerked up from the sensitivity, tears welling in your eyes as you moaned as he rubbed your cunt. "good girls don't whine, y/n. they take their punishments, and get rewards..." he lowered himself to your ears, kissing your cheek as he whispered, "do you want your reward, y/n?"

you never saw megumi like this. truth be told, you barely acknowledged that he might have feelings for you. but seeing him like this made the knot in your stomach tighten, "yes." you said, breathlessly, almost panting.

he sent you a mocking smile before he got up again. his hands running through your hair, letting your bun fall loose. he kissed the top of your nose as he pushed your hoodie upwards and your bra downwards. his thumbs gazed over your peaked nipples as you shuddered at his touch.

he kissed your nipple. rolling his tounge over your bud as he gently grazed his teeth over it. you turned your head to your side, trying to stiffle the moans but he roughly turned your head to him. his hands still wet from your slick, "i want to hear you, okay? dont be quite."

he made it impossible for you to be quiet. his fingers went in and out of you, knuckles deep, at such a fast pace, you felt your entire body shake. and just as you were going to come, he would stop. making even more tears fall from your eyes. the sound of your sobs and his fingers squelching in and out of you filled the room.

"megumi please..." you sobbed in a shaky breath, he laughed, taking his shirt off, his perfect tonned and tanned abs in display for you. "please let me come." you cried, he ran a thumb over your tears and brought it to his lips, licking your tears as you inhaled shakily.

"aww... you wanna come?" he taunted, you snuffled, nodding your head. "fine, butterfly." he cooed, running his hands through your hair as he pushed his sweatpants down with his free hand. "i'll let you come this time, hmm?"

he tapped the tip of his swollen dick to your pussy, making you jerk up again. a soft smile placed on his lips as he kissed you sloopily. his dick slipping inside you perfectly because of how wet you were. he thursted all nine inches of him side, you arched your back, feeling him up your throat as you shook your head.

"too full, too full, too full!" you mumbled, curling your toes as you felt your orgasm near.

he brought his face closer to yours whispering praises as you cried at his girth, "doing so well, butterfly." he kissed your cheek, leaning back to see his cock slide perfectly in and out of your pussy. a ring of arousal coating each thurst. he started going harder, rougher, deeper, "so tight.." he mumbled, grabbing your leg and throwing it over his shoulder.

he used his free hand to rub circles around your swollen clit. thats all you needed to come all over him. hot liquid gushed all over his thighs, your leg and the sheets. he smiled cockily, "i made ya' squirt?" he chuckled, drool slipped from your mouth as he flipped you over, so you'd be over on your stomach.

he pushed you down and arched your back just the right way before he entered you again. you screamed as he hit your g-spot. the second orgasm almost coming minutes later. he wrapped your loose hair around his fists and pulled you up. saliva dripping from your open mouth, tears streaming down your face. a smirk formed on his lips, "have i fucked you dumb, y/n?" he chuckled.

you cleched at his words, squeezing his dick as he lets go of your hair. your head thumping into the pillows as he thursted into you sloopily. bruises started to show on your hips as he gripped you tightly.

you gushed out all over him again, triggering his come to squirt all over your thighs, your stomach and your boobs. he panted on top of you, both of your breathing getting lost into the music.

"i should come to parties more often." you joked, he chuckled, still panting as he laid a soft kiss into your mouth.

"yeah, you should."

#megumi #megumi smut #megumi jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #megumi x reader #notsfw #gojo smut #nsfr

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