#Was the first time I had a thunderstorm in my town

[emile-hides]

I missed the New Leaf Roost a little more than I thought I would.

#Animal Crossing #I made it all nice and thunderstormy #Because as a kid when I couldn't sleep I'd go to the roost and sit at the extra tables and listen to the music #As it was THE best music in the game #And the best night of my life #The one that got the cloestes to curing my depression #Was the first time I had a thunderstorm in my town #it was like 3am I couldn't sleep I had school in the morning #And the sound of the Roost music with the thunder in the background was *chefs kiss* #I miss the old Roost ngl #I miss working for Brooster every day #I wish being able to actually sit at one of the tables and just hang out #The musics still the same tho and that's all that matters #I also watched the AC movie just before I made this so. #The song is KK Bossa. Because I feel a normal amount of emotions for the AC Movie Fandub.

[peachessndreamss]

Thunderstruck

Summery : When a scorching hot summer a thunderstorm wakes you and Eddie and gets the two of you worked up

Characters : Eddie Munson x fem!reader. no use of y/n

Warnings : explicit sexual content including, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex, canon typical drug use

Word count : 3.2 k

A/N : Previously posted on my now deleted page. Honestly just re-sharing because I still love this idea and this character. And I'm willing the summer to start here.

Is there anything sweeter than a summer thunderstorm? The weather had been oppressively hot for two weeks now, the grass was dead and yellow with the lack of rain and the soil in every flower bed deeply cracked and dusty. The town pool was full to bursting every day of the week with children and adults alike trying to escape the heat. 

Eddie's home often became so hot in the day it was physically impossible to stay inside for more than a few minutes without feeling like you were being cooked alive in an oversized tin can. You’d spend the hours of sunshine sitting outside on old and creaking sun loungers listening to music on Eddie’s stereo, reading or dozing. Eddie would strip down to his boxers and stretch out his slim, pale body in the shade but only after you’d smothered him in sunscreen and he was so greasy with it he looked like a professional wrestler. 

At night the trailer was a little cooler, but still every window needed to be flung open wide to coax in the almost non-existent cool breeze that danced on the warm night air. You’d sleep under a thin, cotton sheet, as anything else would have been too uncomfortable and even then, with Eddie running hot, he often abandoned the sheet all together and just slept naked and uncovered. 

It had been an easy Saturday, nothing to be achieved and nowhere for either of you to be. Band practice had been cried off due to the heat and D&D wasn’t until Tuesday so you and Eddie had spent the day on the sun loungers. Eddie was re-reading The Hobbit, his copy battered and bent at the spine from the many times it had been opened and poured over. He would read his favourite parts aloud to you, giving every character their own distinct voice, he’d read it so many times now he was reciting it from memory rather than reading. 

After a dinner of take away pizza enjoyed outdoors with Uncle Wayne before he headed off for his shift , and a few joints to see the day home, you and Eddie had climbed into his bed, laying as far apart as possible as to not make each other warmer than necessary. 

It was very early in the morning when you were woken up, the room was still dark, not even a hint of the dawn in the darkness so it was the sound that had disturbed you and after listening for a few seconds you heard it again, the deep, rolling roar of thunder. It lasted for as long as 10 seconds before fading into a heavy silence. Then the rain started, a gentle plink-plonk at first but within moments it was a downpour. Heavy rain drops slamming into the roof of the trailer and bouncing back up only to fall again. Then another rumble of thunder and a flash of bright white lightning. 

“Eddie,” you whispered, grabbing at his arm and tugging gently, “Eddie, wake up,”.

Eddie snorted and shifted onto his back, turning his head and squinting at you. 

“Was it?” he grunted, confused and upset by being woken up. His nose scrunched up and his eyes struggled to open. 

“Listen,” you insisted quietly, grabbing hold of his forearm. His skin was hot to touch and clammy. 

It took him a few seconds to realise what you were talking about, as he listened, his brows unfurrowed and his eyes eased open. He cocked his head to one side, the tangle of curls under his head crackling on the fabric of his pillow. 

“It’s raining?” he asked, glancing at you. 

“It’s a thunderstorm,” you replied with a grin. 

“Awesome,” he said with a grin as he sat up and flung himself off the bed and across the small room to the window, yanking back the light curtain and taking in the scene. 

The sky seemed to glow dark red and stormy grey, the clouds low and flat, hanging over the town like a wet blanket. The rain that was falling was fast and heavy and the clattering, pattering sounds it made caused a shiver to run up Eddie’s spine. Suddenly there was a deafening roll of thunder, so loud it felt like it was happening inside your head, it was followed only a second later by a fork of lightning that illuminated the whole sky as it raced toward the ground. 

“Shit, that’s close,” Eddie said over the sound of the rain. 

“It’s so cool,” you replied, standing next to him at the window. 

The air outside was now much cooler and it whipped into the open window, bringing with it a smattering of rain. Eddie slipped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. The two of you watched three more lightning strikes, Eddie was certain that the last one must have hit his favourite picnic bench because the strike had been so close. 

You were now a little bored with the weather and your attention turned to the man standing beside you. You turned your head and placed a gentle kiss on his jaw, then another soft kiss on his cheek before bringing one hand up his naked back and shifting his curls away from his ear so you could kiss the lobe of his ear. You felt Eddie shudder and watched his eyes close as you let your lips linger on such a sensitive spot for him. 

"It's cooler now isn't it?" You said softly, turning your whole body so your front was now at his side, you placed one hand on his stomach, feeling the warmth and softness of his skin and the slight rasp of the hair that led down to his groin. 

"Yeah, a bit," Eddie swallowed as your hand moved a little lower down his stomach. 

You moved your head forward and snuggled into Eddie's neck, catching the smell of his sweat from his hair and his skin as you dragged your teeth against the soft skin. 

"Let's go back to bed Eddie," you mewled, your hand slipping even lower on his stomach, feeling the distinct change in his body hair, from the loose curls of his happy trail to the tighter and coarser curls of his pubic hair. 

Eddie swallowed hard, his cock already hardening and thickening at your touch. In less than an inch you'd be able to wrap your hand around the root of his dick and find him so ready to fuck. While the weather had been as hot and uncomfortable as it had been sex had been completely off the menu, neither of you liking the idea of any additional physical exercise than was strictly necessary. 

Eddie grabbed hold of your wrist before you reached the apex of his thighs and brought your wrist up to his mouth, biting gently at the soft underside of your wrist where a few delicate veins rose up from under your skin, almost imperceptible to the eye but Eddie knew they were there and how it made you squirm when they were touched. 

A thrill of pleasure ran around your naked body as his teeth caressed the delicate skin at your wrist before he kissed it softly. 

"Bed please, my love," he whispered before letting your wrist go and giving you a little bump with his hip in the direction of the bed. 

You smiled sweetly as you slipped out of his embrace and stepped back to the bed. Climbing on the end of the bed, glancing back over your shoulder while on all fours, finding Eddie watching you with his mouth open and a hungry look in his eyes. 

"Like this?" You asked, wiggling your hips from side to side. 

Eddie shook his head as he started to gather up his curls into an elastic he kept around his wrist. 

"On your back baby," he replied as he tightened the bun at the back of his head.

You grinned, feeling your body’s Pavlovian response to seeing his hair tied back like that as you flipped over onto your back in the centre of the small bed, your head resting on the pillow as Eddie positioned himself comfortably between your thighs. He'd settled himself with his cock trapped between his stomach and the mattress so when the mood took him he could grind down on the mattress. 

He ran his tongue over his lips as he looked up at your face, one of his forearms slipping around your thigh and lifted it onto his shoulder, your foot now resting on his back. His other hand pushed your other thigh aside, pushing your sex open for him. He made a sound of appreciation deep in his chest before he used two fingers to spread your slick lips open, exposing you even more intimately, giving him unlimited access to your clit, your entrance and with a tilt of your hips he'd have access to your tight asshole too. But right now, Eddie only had one thing on his mind. 

"Hey sweetheart," he cooed softly, dipping his head forward and placing a soft, closed lip kiss just above your clit.

"I've missed you," he continued in a soft, lilting voice, placing another kiss just below your clit. 

You made a soft purring sound, lifting your hips up a little, urging him to get to the main event. Eddie chuckled and gave you a very gentle slap on the thigh. 

“Don't rush me," he insisted, lifting his head to speak to you, "we need to get reacquainted and she's shy," he added before touching the pad of his thumb to your clit, the sudden direct contact making you jerk your hips off the bed and your hands claw at the bedsheet. 

"See?" He said with a grin as he cocked his eyebrow at you, "she's skittish,". 

Eddie returned his attention to your pussy and continued his slow torture, kissing around your clit, occasionally giving a small lick either side but never touching it directly. In what felt like hours to you, but was only 2 minutes in reality Eddie had you rocking and twisting your hips, trying to force him to give you the contact you wanted. 

"Eddie please, please please," you moaned as your hands fisted at the bedsheet. 

Eddie chuckled softly, rubbing his chin against the thigh he had hooked over his shoulder. 

"Needy, needy girl," he whispered sweetly before finally kissing your clit. 

The bud was tight and thumping in time with your heartbeat and Eddie's wet mouth created an explosion of pleasure and pain as the thousands of nerve endings were stimulated in unison. You gave a strangled cry, bucking your hips up and bringing one of your hands down on the back of Eddie's head, holding him in place, rocking your hips against his open mouth, feeling the hot, wetness of his tongue as he danced it over and around your clit. There was no consistency to his movements yet so while pleasure rolled around your body you knew he wasn't trying to make you come yet. He was still holding back. 

You moaned and bucked again, pushing Eddie's head down harder, feeling the press of his nose into your pubic mound. 

"Eddie, fuck, Eddie," you groaned as you noticed for the first time the slow, undulating movements of his lower body. 

You lifted your head up and watched his hips pressing and grinding down against the mattress, the muscles in his bare ass popping as he rolled his hips and clenched his glutes and thighs. The sight of him fucking at the mattress sent your body and mind spiraling as you dropped back onto the pillow and moaned loudly, your whole body suddenly more alive than ever. 

Eddie's tongue was now constantly licking at your clit, his lips fixed around it  creating a hot, wet seal around the bud. Eddie let you buck and grind and hold his face down all you needed until you finally reached your peak. Your voice disappeared for a few seconds as you felt nothing but hot pleasure rushing around your body.

As your muscles clenched and stars exploded behind your eyes a streak of lightning raced across the sky, turning the room as bright as your body felt for a few seconds. Your hand released Eddie's head and he moved a little, not enough to break contact but to ease up on your clit, stopping the intense licking and changing back to soft kisses to draw out your climax until you were shaking and writhing, nothing but soft mewling noises coming from your mouth.

"Oh god," you moaned softly as Eddie moved his kisses to the inside of your thighs, his eyes travelling up your body to your face. 

"That was so cool baby," he whispered, "you came so hard there was lightning,". 

You gave a soft laugh, lifting your head to look at the sweet man between your legs, he was looking up at you, his big brown eyes looking soft and loving. 

"Get up here and fuck me," you said, twisting a curl of his hair that had fallen loose around your finger. 

"Fuck yeah baby," Eddie replied as he clambered up, crawling up your body, pushing your thighs apart and bringing his hard cock right to your waiting entrance.

You were both beyond ready so Eddie sank into you easily, placing his hands on your thighs and drawing them up his body so you cradled him either side of his chest. He rested with his forearms either side of your head and kissed you deeply and he pressed his hips forward, filling your body with his, making you whole and creating a passionate fusion of your two bodies and your two souls. 

You broke away from his mouth and moaned his name, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging deep and leaving red marks in his alabaster skin. Eddie hissed at the burn of your nails in his flesh but the hiss quickly turned to a laugh as he dipped his head and licked up the column of your neck to your chin before kissing you again, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he drew his hips back before driving forward again.

You broke away from his lips, taking a deep gasping breath as the head of Eddie's cock hit right against your g-spot. As the lights burst behind your closed eyes the sky seemed to shake with a huge rumble of thunder, it was so loud and so close it felt like it might have made the trailer shake but it was hard to tell if the shaking was the weather, or Eddie as he picked up his pace. 

He moves from drawing out and pushing forward to grinding, keeping his cock buried deeply inside you and rocking his hips back and forth, meaning he was able to constantly stimulate you internally as well as externally, your clit now being rubbed by the muscles of Eddie's pelvis. You clawed at Eddie's back, crying out as you felt your second climax starting to build deep inside your belly. 

"Eddie, oh God, Eddie," you breathed. 

You moved your hands from his back to his face. Catching his cheeks between your hands and bringing his face close to yours, pressing your foreheads together. His face was sweaty and so was yours, your two sweats mingling on your skin. 

You felt so completely connected to him it was overwhelming, Eddie was everywhere and, in that moment, he was everything as well. The intimacy of it all aided in pushing you over the edge very quickly, your orgasm burst outward with the power of an exploding star. Your legs gripping Eddie's chest and your arms dragging his upper body closer to yours so it was impossible to tell who skin was who's. 

With a stuttering and guttural cry, taken by surprise by your suddenly gripping, milking pussy Eddie came, hard and deep. Filling you up as another rumble of thunder and flash of lightning split the sky. 

The two of you seem to float, for a while, suspended in space and time, your bodies both corporeal and ethereal, human and divine. You come back to the sound of the pattering rain and the tickle of Eddie's curls, the weight of his body feels safe and the heat of his skin feels comforting. 

"Eddie baby?" You said softly, stroking your fingers down his spine. 

"Yeah?" He mumbled, his face pressed deep into the space beside your neck. 

"You okay?". 

"Baby," Eddie sighed, lifting himself up to look at your face, "that was the best," he grinned. 

You giggled, more of the physical sensations of post sex coming back to you. An ache in your hips, a stretch between your thighs, and warm wetness on your thighs. 

"It was good," you agreed. 

"I think we should always have sex when there's a thunderstorm," he said sleepily as he moved, withdrawing his softening cock from you and flopping down beside, patting a spot on his chest where he wanted you to put your head. 

You wriggled toward him and placed your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around your body and the two of you kissed deeply. 

"I feel like we just conceived the anti-Christ or something," you said with a giggle. 

Eddie scoffed and shook his head. 

"Don't even joke," he replied, kissing the top of your head tenderly. 

The rain seemed to be slowing and the rumbles of thunder sounded further away, the storm seemed to be rolling on, maybe waking up other young lovers as it went. 

Eddie dropped off to sleep after a few minutes, his body and mind completely relaxed and satisfied. You stayed awake a little longer, the day was getting lighter by the second and Eddie's features were being revealed to you in glorious golden morning hues. You were contemplating how much he looked like an angel from a painting when you dropped off to sleep yourself. 

The two of you woke up a second time when Wayne came home from his shift with paper bags of hot and greasy breakfast food. The three of you sat around the small table and ate. Wayne was tired from his shift and you and Eddie were dozy from being up half the night enjoying each other's bodies. The day after the storm was cooler, the air fresher. The plants seemed to be greener and the sky bluer and even the people seemed more friendly, Eddie's usually sullen neighbour greeting you when you stepped out of the trailer to find your rain soaked sneakers. 

Eddie brought his guitar out that day and he sat beside you on the same sun lounger and strummed chords, humming tunes and making up nonsense songs. Songs about his D&D campaign, songs about summer, songs about love, and one about passionate nights while lightning splits the sky. 

Hearing him recount the night before in his deep, rich singing voice sent shivers down your spine. 

"You're not sharing that one with the band are you?" You asked as he came up with a lyric about how the sound of the thunder was second to the sounds you make when he’s inside you.

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. 

"This one's just for you and me baby,".

#Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson romance #Eddie Munson x y/n #Stranger Things fanfic #Joseph Quinn #Joseph Quinn character #Eddie Munson imagine #Stranger Things character #eddie munson x female reader

[threadbaresweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan x reader

Arthur doesn't think you're interested in him any more than you're interested in fishing, which ain't much. You hope he shares even an inkling of the feelings you have for him. It's no surprise to anyone else in camp that there's something between the two of you, and they make sure you get a chance to show each other how you really feel.

The details: 3.9k words. Female reader with a backstory that isn't really elaborated upon in this fic but might be at a later date if I have the spoons; several gang members act as side-characters/wingmen (and women); alcohol and cigarette use; sex (pretty vanilla, but a little rough and intense). NSFW. This is also my first fic for a new fandom, so please be gentle with me. It's been a while.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now. 

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs. 

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess. 

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?” 

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house. 

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight. 

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers. 

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch. 

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips. 

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench. 

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…” 

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.” 

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road. 

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.” 

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.” 

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed. 

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed. 

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above. 

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours. 

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him. 

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible. 

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grab at each other like it's the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you want more than what the other of you is able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours. 

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

#arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader

[hier--soir]

whole new can of worms

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: two friends decide to blow off a little steam together. warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] fwb!joel, famous HOG joel miller lmao, age gap [20 years], language, alcohol consumption, established friendship, guitar playing joel!!, oral [f and m recieving], p in v sex, starts slow and careful and ends up rough oops. word count: 6.9k (nice) series masterlist | masterlist a/n: okay LOOK. i’m working on a final part to this little impromptu series, but I got very side-tracked with the idea of a prequel and then the most smut I’ve ever written just fucking spilled out of me. this is the first time they had sex, ladies and gentlemen. you get the beginning before you get the end. enjoy. also, this moment from tlou pt 2 game is what i was picturing for the beginning when joel is playing the song. dont watch if you don't want to, its from a cut scene very late in the second game. zero spoilers, just joel miller strumming that damn guitar in a way i'll never forget. this is part one of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: two, three, four.

“Play that one I like.”

Joel offered no verbal response, but sat up straighter in his chair, fingers adjusting along the fretboard of his guitar. You relaxed into your seat, closing your eyes and taking a long sip from your glass of amber liquor.

He began playing and you smiled happily, goosebumps breaking out across your skin as the familiar tune filled the air between you and your friend, melding with the sound of rain softly pattering against the roof of his veranda. You kicked your feet up onto the table between you, the tense muscles in your legs aching from the stretch.

“Get your feet off the table,” Joel muttered, fingers never ceasing on the instrument. “Animal.”

Your eyes stayed closed, but you stuck your tongue out in his direction, smirking a little and keeping your feet up, knowing he didn’t really mind.   

Both of you had endured a long fucking day.

Winter was fading into Spring, and the trees and plants in Jackson were slowly but surely beginning to bloom again. It meant you were spending more hours in the green house than out on patrol, and you weren’t complaining. Tending to the garden relaxed you, connected you to nature and to one of the food sources in the commune that helped put a little bit of food on everyone’s plate each week. Working there made you feel connected to the town, and you loved it, truly. Except, for when a thunderstorm happened.

They’d scared you for as long as you could remember. Since you were a kid, thunder and lightning had made you want to crawl under the covers on your bed and hide away until the loud noises disappeared. But as a full-grown woman, you weren’t afforded such luxuries. Rain, hail or shine, the people in Jackson depended on each other, and you couldn’t duck out of a shift because of a silly little phobia.

When the rain started pouring down on the glass roof of the greenhouse you hadn’t been surprised. Only a few weeks into springtime, the town was still shaking off the remnants of a bitterly cold winter, and a little rain was still common. It was only when the first crack of thunder sounded that you’d stilled, hands frozen gripping a heavy pot, an unwelcome shiver racing down your spine. You’d had to work for hours, the sound of rain pelting against the roof accompanying you, with flashes of lightning appearing out of the corner of your eye all day.

When all was said and done, you’d trudged through the downpour to Joel’s house and arrived on his doorstep looking like a drowned rat, only to find out that he’d spent his afternoon stuck outside on patrol, in the very weather you were so upset about.

He’d opened the door with damp hair, bundled in warm clothes, the tip of his nose a light shade of pink from the cold.

“Whiskey?” he’d asked.

You nodded. “Whiskey.”

And so the pair of you had ended up on his porch, under cover from the residual spit of rain, forgetting all about the shit day through good company and good alcohol.

As Joel strummed the last few chords of the song you sighed glumly, cracking an eye open to watch him. He set the guitar down gently and reached for his glass.

“So beautiful,” you murmured. “Wish I could play.”

“And then what use would I be?” he chuckled. “Can’t have you learning guitar; I’d have no one to play for anymore.”

You watched him closely. Staring into his glass, you could see him mulling the words over in his head. Ellie had hardly spoken a word to him in weeks, and you could see the toll it was taking, although you never pried. Clearly, something had happened, and although you and Joel were close, you hadn’t wanted to insert yourself into whatever drama had consumed his little found family. It made your chest hurt though, to watch him miss that girl. He’d always loved playing for her.

“Good thing I’m lazy then,” you mused softly. “Swear I couldn’t play an instrument with a gun to my head. I’ll need to keep you around.”

“Works for me,” he said, refilling both your glasses. “You on the patrol roster tomorrow?”

You shook your head, accepting the glass with a grateful smile. A slight buzz warmed your insides, fighting to keep your body temperature up as the cool breeze licked at your exposed hands and face. “Nope, I’m a free agent tomorrow, no responsibilities.”

“God damn,” he rolled his eyes. “Gonna be stuck out there all alone with Tommy.”

“Devastating,” you grinned. “I’m way better company.”

“Too right,” Joel agreed. “What’s your plan for the day, little miss no responsibilities? Still reading that book I found you?”

Probably masturbate. The thought zipped through your mind so suddenly that you felt your chest warm, and you cleared your throat softly.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Probably just read for a while. Dinner at Maria and Tommy's, remember?”

You hoped he didn’t see through the lie, because the truth was that you were embarrassed by yourself. Only a few days before you’d been struck by the realisation that you hadn’t had sex, or even been touched intimately by another person, in months. In fact, you noted sullenly, it had been half a fucking year. And you were struggling. It was your longest dry spell in a while, and every night lately you’d found yourself tangled up in your bed with your hand in your underwear, wishing desperately that someone, anyone, else was there with you.

Trying to ward off the unsavoury thoughts filling your mind, you took a deep gulp of whiskey and shut your eyes, contemplating asking if he had any cigarettes laying around.

Suddenly, a deep groan pierced the air between you and your eyes shot open. What the fuck?

With wide eyes, you saw that Joel was gripping his right leg tightly, thumb rubbing deep circles into the skin above his knee cap, and you forced yourself to relax. A sound of pain, you realised. But your heart had stuttered in your chest, because as out of character as it would’ve been, with your eyes closed it had sounded like a vaguely sexual noise. You rolled your eyes, willing yourself to get a grip. But it had been so long, and the sound of a man groaning in any way was enough to light a fire in your stomach.

“It’s the cold,” he noticed your stare. “Makes my knee ache.”

You nodded knowingly, eyes watching as his large hand gripped his thigh, applying pressure to the tender area.

“What’s up your ass?” Joel asked.

“Huh?” your gaze flashed up to meet his and found him watching you closely, eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re frownin’,” he said. “Gone all quiet suddenly.”

“So are you,” you huffed defensively, face warming. “You always fucking frown, I can’t do it one time?”

“No,” he grinned cheekily, stilling rubbing his knee. “I frown enough for the both of us. You can figure somethin’ else out.”  

You let out a begrudging chuckle and felt the indent between your eyebrows relax.

“Seriously,” he pushed. “What’s wrong? Is it too cold? We should move inside.”

“No,” you cringed, scratching the side of your neck awkwardly. Lowering your legs off the table you sat up a little straighter in your chair. “It’s good out here, I like it. I’m just… distracted, I don’t know.”

“What’s on your mind?” he sipped his whiskey.

Without needing any more prompting, you gave up on beating around the bush. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

A choked sound escaped him, and he swallowed quickly, coughing into his elbow. “Christ, what?”

“I’m not,” your cheeks were on fire. “I’m not thinking about you having sex, relax. I was thinking about me having sex. Or not having sex, to be more precise.”

He coughed again, an awkward expression flashing across his face.

You and Joel had been friends for a few years now, since he and Ellie returned to Jackson and decided to settle in the commune. After being friends with Tommy for a few years before that, you’d fallen into a natural friendship with his older brother. It was no secret that there was 20 odd year age difference between you and Joel, but in a post-apocalyptic world, it had never phased either of you. Friends were friends, and an age gap didn’t impact much. But sex was a topic that had seldom come up in conversation over those few years. Here and there maybe, but never in detail, and never so candidly.

“I almost walked in on Shae and Petra fucking the other day,” you continued plainly. “She was late for patrol, so I went over to see if she’d slept in, and I could hear them from outside the fucking house. Stood there like an ass for a minute, just listening like a creep.”

Joel watched you closely, and you noticed his hand gripped his glass a little tighter, fingertips white from the pressure “You… listened?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you cringed, rubbing a hand over your face shamefully. “Just for a fucking second. Hadn’t realised how long it had been, and it was like my feet wouldn’t move.”

“I see.”

“You better not tell a soul about this,” you pointed at him threateningly. “I’ll end you if anybody finds out, Miller. I swear.”

“I believe you,” he snorted, holding his hands up in surrender. “My lips are sealed.”

You relaxed a little, relieved to discover that he wasn’t going to be as awkward about it as you’d first feared.

“How long has it been?”

Your eyes ticked up to stare at him again. “Like, six months or something.”

Joel let out a low whistle and nodded slowly, sipping from the crystal tumbler in his hand. “You poor soul.”

“Oh, come off it,” you scoffed in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re having sex and I’m not? This just keeps getting worse.”

“Fuck you,” he drawled mockingly, that deep Texan accent making you grin. “Would it be such a surprise if I was?”

“S’just bullshit,” you glowered, picking at your nails in frustration. Traces of soil still lined the creases in your palms and you rubbed at it furiously, in a fruitless attempt at cleaning them.  

“I’m not,” is all he said, and you frowned at him in confusion. “Havin’ sex,” he added with a smirk. "And it's been longer for me, so quit your whinin'."

You raised your eyebrows, appreciating the honesty. “Well thank god I’m not the only one.”

“Don’t know when I would,” he shrugged simply. “And who would I be having sex with, anyways? Spend all my fuckin’ time on patrol listening to Tommy talk for hours, or I’m sleepin’, or I’m with you.”

The thought itched so suddenly at the back of your brain, and you fought against it, shaking your head ever so slightly to push it away. Don’t think that. But it was persistent, and after a few moments of silence, your mind was filled with thoughts of you and Joel Miller fucking.

Admittedly, it was something you’d thought about once or twice when you’d first met him. He was a handsome guy, and his arrival in Jackson had definitely caused a stir among the women in the commune. But you’d fallen into a friendship so quickly, so comfortably, that the thought had never reared its ugly head again. Until now.

You watched him for a moment. His hair was dry at that point, and short messy curls framed his face and neck. He had neat dark facial hair, with sweet specks of ashy grey mixed in here and there. That familiar scar on the bridge of his nose. Lips that had gone a darker shade of pink from the cold, that you’d never realised looked quite so… plush. Eyes trailing down, your gaze raked over his hands. Long, calloused fingers that wrapped around almost the entirety of his glass. the warmth in your stomach spread downward, and you knew you should feel embarrassed at where your brain was taking you, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Images flashed through your mind of his hands gripping you like that. Fingers leaving marks on your thighs, on your neck. You shivered, looking away quickly.

“Fuck,” you sighed quietly, not even caring if he heard.

“Hey,” he said softly, assuming you were upset. “Someone’ll come along. We could talk to Tommy about setting you up or somethin’.”

You hummed noncommittally and turned in your chair to face him head on. Joel noticed and adjusted his position to do the same, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look?” he asked, eyebrows pinching together.

Jesus, here goes nothing.

“What if we fucked?”

Joel stared. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, and he put his glass down on the table with a soft clink.

“What?” he said lowly, his voice taking on a sudden gravelly quality.

“I mean,” you searched desperately for the words to explain yourself, licking your lips nervously. “You said it yourself, we’re so busy, right? Always working, or sleeping, or we’re hanging out, you and me. So, what if we just… blew off a little steam together?”

His eyebrows had raised so dramatically you thought they might disappear into his hairline. It wasn’t often you managed to shock Joel, and you laughed gently at the astounded expression that decorated his face.  

“You want to blow off steam… with me?” he pointed lamely at his chest.

“Don’t sound so incredulous,” you joked. “You’re a catch, Joel. You know the teens call you a HOG, right? Hot old guy.“

“Shut up,” he held up a hand to silence you, his eyes squeezing shut tightly as you laughed at his embarrassment. “Don’t want to hear that shit.”

“It wouldn’t mean anything, Joel,” you reassured, veering back on topic. “We could just… help each other wind down after a long day.”

You watched each other in silence for a moment, and you noticed him shuffle slightly in his seat, hand gripping his knee once again. For a minute, you worried that you’d upset him. The friendship you two shared was strong, and you always known you could confide almost anything in him. He was trustworthy, and valued your word above so many others. But maybe this was over the line.

As you were about to speak again, about to take it all back and apologise for even suggesting it, he finally opened his mouth.

“It wouldn’t mean anything?” he clarified. “This won’t affect our friendship.”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing at all. No strings, bud. Final offer.”

With a deep, rumbling sigh, Joel snatched his glass off the table and downed the remainder of its contents before standing up. “Alright then.”   

You’d been in Joel’s room a hundred times over the years. Hauling him out of bed for patrol after he’d accidentally slept in, or rifling through his chest of drawers to steal a thick pair of socks. But never for this reason. The pair of you stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed, staring at everything other than each other, as the air crackled with palpable tension.

Joel scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, and you smirked, unfamiliar with seeing him being unsure of himself.

“If you don’t want to, we can just forget I ever sai-“

“Just taking your fuckin’ clothes off,” he grunted, staring you down suddenly. Wide eyed, you felt a rush of heat through your thighs.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “Romance isn’t dead.”

He huffed out a laugh and your shoulders relaxed, happy to see a crack through his tense façade. Your tugged off your sweater, and then your shirt, tossing them over the chair in the corner of his room. Working quickly, you undid the zipper on your pants and pulled them down your legs until you were left in your underwear, a thin white singlet, and your socks.

You reminded yourself that Joel had already seen you naked, thinking back on a time when the two of you had gone skinny dipping in a lake you stumbled across on patrol the summer before. But this was so different. This wasn’t a random moment of spontaneity. And at the lake he'd been a gentleman, averting his eyes for the most part out of politeness, but now? Now he was watching your every move.

Silently, he undid the strap off his watch and placed it on the top of his dresser, before working to undo the buttons on his shirt. After he had tugged it off, you let your eyes trail over his exposed skin, and with no fabric covering him, you could see how quickly his chest rose and fell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his chest. You felt his heart race under the warm skin and smiled. “It’s just me. Let me help you relax, okay?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips quickly, and you wondered what it would be like to kiss him. You didn’t dwell on it though, and leaned forward to drag your lips across the skin of his neck. He smelt like rain and pine needles, and you inhaled deeply, pressing soft kisses along his pulse point. One of his hands landed heavily on your waist and his thumb begun rubbing encouraging circles over your hip bone. You hummed against his skin, pressing your chest against his. Exposed to the cool temperature, your nipples pebbled underneath your shirt, and from his exhale you knew he could feel them pressing against his bare chest.

With a slight tremor in your hand, you trailed your fingers down his chest. Through the soft hair smattered there, over the thick jagged scar on his stomach, to his belt buckle. Joel shivered lightly, gripping your waist a little tighter. You worked quickly to undo his belt, and then you dragged his zipper down. With a low sigh, you rested your hand over the front of his pants. He jolted slightly, hand sliding around your back to hold you tighter to his chest. With your face hidden in his neck, you couldn’t see his reaction, but you took the firm pressure of his hand on your back as a clear sign to continue. You palmed him gently through his pants, listening to the little puffs of air that rushed out of his nose as he kept his breathing calm. A surge of confidence rushed through you, and you stepped away, letting your hand fall away from him. His arm dropped from your back to his side, and he watched with bated breath as you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him.

You gripped the waistband of his pants and started to drag them down his legs, helping him step out of them. Wearing nothing but a tight pair of briefs, it was impossible not to stare. You could see the shape of him through the dark fabric, your mouth salivated. More, you needed to see more. Without wasting a second, you tucked your fingers into the band of them and pulled them down slowly, giving him the chance to stop you if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He watched you with hooded dark eyes, chest moving with deep controlled breaths, his bottom lip tucked into his mouth. With his underwear gone, Joel’s cock finally came into your sight. He was only half hard, you realised with awe, and your stomach tingled as you realised what you were in for. Reaching out, your traced your fingers slowly over his hip bones, smiling as goosebumps broke out across his skin, before gently wrapping your fingers around him.

A shaky breath escaped from his nose.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, hand stroking softly along his length. He nodded jerkily. “Why don’t you sit on the bed?”

Joel dropped heavily onto the edge of his bed, and you moved forward to rest on your knees in between his parted legs, placing your hand back over him. The air in the room had turned humid, and you could feel sweat forming on your back out of anticipation. The only light source came from the moon shining in his window, bathing the both of you in a pale light.

“You’re so handsome,” you sighed wistfully, gripping him tighter. “I’ve always known it, but seeing you like this is different. So handsome, Joel.”

He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, gripping your skin and massaging the knotted muscle at the top of your back. You groaned appreciatively, and without another moment’s hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his thigh. No more fucking around. You needed him.

Your hand stroked him firmer, tighter, but your mouth was salivating, desperate to taste him. So you dragged wet kisses along his leg until you reached his abdomen, and then you brought your wet mouth to hover over his cock. You heard his breath hitch and smiled devilishly, staring greedily at his ruddy tip, marvelling as a drop of precum leaked out of him. Painfully slow, you pushed forward and pressed a kiss to it, tongue darting out to swipe along him and taste his salt. Joel hissed in surprise, gripping your shoulder tighter as his other hand moved to the back of your head. Not putting any pressure there, just holding you. Lathing your tongue over his head, you moaned lowly at the taste of him. Salty and warm and masculine. You could feel your underwear sticking uncomfortably against you from how wet you were. Closing your eyes, you cupped his balls gently and pressed wet kisses down his length, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein that ran from base to tip, and basking in the short gasps that flew out of his mouth.

“Stop teasin’,” he grumbled, and you looked up with a smirk to see his dark eyes glaring down at you.

“Sorry,” you lied, before taking his head into your warm mouth and sucking gently. Slowly, you pressed forward, taking more of him in. You felt him swell against your tongue, getting harder from the stimulation, and you hummed around him. He was so big. Maybe bigger than anyone you’d been with, and you struggled to take it all. He was so thick and heavy in your mouth, it was all you could think about. Consuming every thought, every feeling; all you could focus on was the weight of him on your tongue. You worked on creating a rhythm, bobbing your head and taking as much of him in your mouth as you could, while your hand gripped him at the base, stroking him at the same time.

And finally, finally, he made a sound.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, drawing out the vowel as a heavy breath he’d been holding escaped his lungs. His fingers dragged through your hair roughly, gripping the back of your head. You pushed yourself forward, taking more of him in until he was pressing into your throat, and you swallowed tightly around him. “Christ, feels so fuckin’ good.”

Seemingly against his will, Joel’s hips bucked upward off the bed and you gagged around him, tears springing into your eyes. He moaned lowly, cursing under his breath at the feeling of your throat contracting around him. Unable to help yourself, you removed your hand from him and lowered it down your body, slipping your fingers underneath the band of your underwear and dipping into the wet heat between your own legs. Breathing harshly through your nose, you moaned around him as your finger brushed your aching clit. You pulled back and worked your tongue over his weeping slit, enjoying the way his grip on your hair tightened as you paid close attention to the most sensitive part of him.

“You’re drivin’ me insane,” he ground out, and you glanced up to see him watching you reverently, eyes wide and glossy, cheeks flushed. “So fuckin’ hot. God, you have the prettiest mouth, how did I never notice that? Never fuckin’ thought about how good my cock would look between your lips until it was happening. I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

Your cunt pulsed against your fingers and you whimpered, taking him back in your mouth as far as you could. God, the way he spoke made you fucking ache for him. after so many years of knowing him, hearing his voice every day, you’d never have imagined him saying things like that to you. But the weight of him in your mouth was delicious, and his words only spurred you to push forward, forward, forward, revelling in the way he groaned as your nose brushed the dark curls at his base. Tears leaked out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks from the effort, but you didn’t stop. You slid a finger inside yourself and gagged around him again, eyes rolling back in your head at the intoxicating sensation of having something inside both your mouth and your pussy.

“Takin’ me so well,” his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the tears. “God, I’m in your fuckin’ throat, baby.” The pet name made your stomach tighten, and you moaned as more slick formed around your fingers.  

“Shit,” he choked out suddenly, losing all composure. “Are you fucki-“

You moaned, eyebrows furrowing as you fucked your hand and bobbed your mouth up and down quicker over his length.

“Stop,” he ordered, saying your name firmly. “I- Stop, I’m gonna come.” You ignored him, making a high-pitched sound around him as you felt the hot coil in your stomach begin to tighten. His hand gripped your hair tighter, and he pulled you off him.

You blinked lazily up at him, eyebrows furrowed dejectedly, lips parted. A string of saliva hung in the air between your bottom lip and his tip. You dragged your fingers out of your underwear, chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Jesus, don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” he groaned and broke eye contact, gripping your shoulder to pull you up off the floor. “Get up.”

Pushing gently on your shoulders, he nudged you forward onto the bed, and you crawled up before collapsing with your heads against the pillows. His bed was softer than you’d anticipated, and everything smelt like him. The pillows, the duvet. God, even if this was a one-time thing, you’d never forget that smell. He followed you, settling with his legs in between yours, and placed his palms on your stomach, pushing the thin material of your shirt up and over your breasts until it was bunched around your collarbones. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest, and you were aching for him, begging him with your eyes to just please, do something, anything.

And Joel was on you before you could speak, his fingers tracing and over your nipples, squeezing the weight of your breast in his palm before latching his lips onto you. He sucked your painfully tight nipple into his mouth, tongue lazily swiping across it, driving you insane. You sighed heavily, running a hand over the skin of his back and holding him to you. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin ever so lightly and your back arched off the bed. Moving over, he shifted his ministrations to your other breast, his eyes closed as he wet your skin with his slick mouth. And then one of his hands was drifting down your stomach, tickling over your skin, under it met your underwear, and he was cupping you through the fabric. Your hips stuttered upward, and he groaned into your chest, trailing his fingers over the soaked material.

“So fuckin’ wet already,” he muttered into your skin, and you nodded franticly against the pillows. “Did you get this turned on just from havin’ my cock in your mouth? Had to touch yourself?” Surprise zapped through you once more, ecstatic to learn just how much he loved to talk during sex. It was one of your favourite things, and it had always killed you to have sex with someone who was just silent the whole time.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Wanted you to finish in my mouth.”

He bit down onto your chest in response and you cried out quietly, eyes rolling back as he sucked a mark onto your skin with his fingers continued tracing feather light over your covered core.

“Maybe later,” his voice was strained. “Need to see you come first.”

He pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side, and then he was touching you with no barrier, and you trembled beneath him. You’d forgotten how good it felt to have someone else’s hands on you.

Joel groaned as he dipped his middle finger between your warm folds, gliding it up and down along your core, getting it covered in your slick. He swirled the tip of his finger around your entrance and you whimpered, hips grinding desperately against his hand. But he didn’t go inside you. His finger moved back up, all the way up, and swiped gently over your clit and you let out a pathetic moan. Such a small, miniscule touch had your stomach tensing painfully, ridiculously close to orgasm after so much time.

Bringing his face up to rest beside yours, he sucked your earlobe into his mouth gently, before murmuring in your ear, “I want to taste you.”

You didn’t say anything, too stunned by the feeling of his fingers against you, until he probed you for a response, purring your name into your ear.

“Need to hear you say it,” he encouraged. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please,” you begged, eyes shut tightly as he rubbed soft circles around your bundle of nerves. “I want you to taste me.” A grunt of frustration left your mouth as his hand disappeared and you opened your eyes to glare at him, but your mouth fell open, awestruck, when you saw him raise his soaked digits to his lips.

“Like this?” he goaded, sucking your slick off himself and groaning.

“Please,” you repeated, mouth dry as you watched him hum around his middle finger. “Need your mouth on me, your tongue, I-“

“Okay,” he soothed, moving down the bed in an instant. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

He spread your legs apart, fingers splayed as he held your thighs against the bed, displaying your weeping centre for him to see. A deep sound echoed though the room, and it took you a moment to realise it had been Joel. His dark eyes stared at the spot between your legs, and he dragged his fingers through the coarse hair that covered you.

His movements were torturously slow as he leaned down, pressing sloppy kisses on your hips, along the inside of your thighs, until finally his hot breaths were fanning across your core. You clenched around nothing, whimpering at how empty you felt but knowing it would have to wait.

It was like stepping into a warm bath. The second his tongue was on you, fire raced through your veins, warming your body from head to toe. A sound of relief slipped from your lips, and your eyes rolled back as he licked a broad stripe up the entire length of you. A raspy groan vibrated against you as he pressed a messy kiss against your pussy. You looked down and gasped at the sight of his eyes already on you, watching you and your reactions to him.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he drawled against you and you twitched at the sensation of his lips brushing against your clit. His thumbs pressed against your folds, holding you open for him to see everything, and he lathed his warm tongue against your clit, circling it until you were moaning and tensing your thighs against his hold, muscles screaming at you to press against his head and hold him to you.

You whispered his name over and over as if it were a prayer. As if you’d forgotten all other words in the English language and his name was your only salvation. His tongue dipped inside your entrance, prodding firmly until you whimpered and begged him to please, please, let you come.

He ate you out like a man possessed. Like you were his last meal and he intended to savour every god damn second of the experience. He was ravenous, lips and tongue working together to make every muscle in your body tighten until you were gasping. At some point your hand had drifted behind his head and you found yourself tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling it tightly as his mouth moved against you.

“Joel,” you groaned. He hummed against you, movements never ceasing. “Oh fuck, Joel, I’m gonna come.”

His eager moan into your cunt was all it took for you to be catapulted over the precipice and drop into your orgasm. Your body was on fire, vibrating against him as you trembled through it, moans and cries leaving your mouth as your way of thanking him. His hands held your thighs in a vice grip, and there would no doubt be marks there tomorrow to remind you were his fingertips had dug into your skin. As your body relaxed into the mattress again, he pressed a final kiss to your clit before pulling back and dragging his face across your thigh, wiping the remnants of your slick off his facial hair.

“Fuck,” he rasped, grinning up at you with glistening lips.

“So good,” you agreed, nodding as you tried to catch your breath.  

“Almost came all over the sheets,” he admitted and you laughed, beckoning him towards you. He stumbled a bit, one of his knees buckling below him on the bed, leading him to land awkwardly on top of you.  

“Shit,” he groused. “Sorry, bad fuckin’ knee. You’ve got me all bent out of shape.”

You chuckled lowly, pulling him up to lay beside you on the bed. “Let’s not put anymore pressure of them then, okay?” He watched you carefully, curiously, as you turned on your side and then moved backwards, pressing yourself flush against his chest.

His cock pulsed against your ass, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splayed on your stomach to hold you against him as he rutted forward. The feeling of his wet tip dragging along your skin reignited the fire in you and you whimpered, lifting your leg only to push it back and drape it over his waist as much as you could.

“You want it like this?” he asked urgently, hot breaths fanning across your sweaty neck. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging on it gently.

You nodded, and waited as he pushed his body a little lower on the bed. His hand disappeared from your chest, and you allowed yourself to pout a little, only because you knew he couldn’t see your face. And then his left arm slithered underneath your shoulder and wrapped loosely your neck, gripping your opposite arm to pin you against him. His free hand gripped his cock and pushed it forward until he was sliding his head between your folds.

Both of you sighed at the sensation and you gripped his arm in anticipation. You could feel his torso moving against your back as he breathed, the soft hair on his chest tickling your skin.

“You ready?” he asked and you grunted, pushing back against him again.

“Joel,” you said in a dangerously low tone. “If you’ve ever cared about me, you will stop teasing and fuck me right now.”  

He laughed darkly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

He notched his tip at your entrance and you gasped as he pressed forward, pressing himself inside of you. It took what felt like minutes for him to bottom out, and when you felt his hips pressing against your ass, you tried to relax. The burn was intense, and you cursed yourself for not anticipating a little bit of pain after such a long dry spell. Joel held still, fingers stroking carefully over the skin of your shoulder, understanding that you needed a second.

“Fuck,” you choked out. “Joel, you’re huge.”  

He let out a gravelly sound into the back of your neck, body shuddering against yours. “You’re takin’ it so well though,” he gritted out. “So tight around me, grippin’ me so good.”   

He pulled back a touch before pressing back into you, and you moaned deeply. That was all the confirmation he needed to continue, pulling almost fully out of you before moving into you harder, stronger, and beginning a steady pace. Your body jolted forward with every one of his movements, but his arm around your neck held you firmly, never allowing you to go too far.

Curses drifted from your mouth, and you hid your face in his arm, biting down on the muscle of his bicep to stifle your sounds. You clenched around him suddenly and his hips stuttered forward, slamming into you in a way that made your stomach tense deliciously. He was so fucking deep, the angle allowing him to glide against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Fuckin’,” he moaned. “You’re so good, bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you darlin’?”

You writhed in his arms, accepting the brutal pace he’d set. His skin connected with yours over and over, a satisfying smack, smack, smack sound filling the air.

“J-Joel,” you sobbed. “Oh my fucking god, I-“ He cut you off, gripping your chin and swiftly tugging your face upward so he could see you, and then his mouth was crashing down on yours. He groaned into your mouth, tongue pressing against your lips to part them and then tangling against yours. His lips were soft and wet and you didn’t even care about the odd angle your neck was twisted at as you moaned into it. His thrusts didn’t let up for a second, even as you murmured desperate sounds against each other’s lips.  

“C’mon,” he grunted into your mouth. “Give me another one.” His hand dropped to grip your neck, the sensation only heightening the feeling of him inside you. Liquid heat was spreading in your abdomen, curling through your veins, turning your entire body into jelly. His free hand drifted down your stomach and then his middle finger was dragging across your clit, and a harsh cry spilled from your mouth.

“Shit,” you gasped, face contorting as you felt yourself near your end. He was fucking everywhere, holding you against him by your neck, pounding into you while his fingers circled your clit roughly, and the coil in your stomach just snapped. You yelled his name, body tensing up as he pushed into you, wet squelching sounds filling the air as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Say my name,” his voice urged in your ear, and you happily obliged, chanting his name like a mantra as he worked your body through it. Within a minute he was groaning frantically, and then he pulled out, and you could feel his come coating your back as he finished. You glanced over your shoulder to see him. His mouth was ajar, soft curses falling from his lips as he gripped his cock, angling it towards you as he painted your skin with his spend.

“Sorry,” he rushed out breathlessly, wide eyes meeting yours. His shoulders shook with the intensity of his orgasm, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and you smiled at the sight. But he looked concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you warily.

“For what?” you frowned softly, rolling forward onto your stomach to free his arm that was trapped underneath you. “What’s wrong?”

“Came on you,” he clarified. “Should’ve asked first.”

A grin split across your face and his eyes lit up when he saw it, face relaxing again. “Ever the gentleman,” you chuckled. “It’s fine Joel, it was hot.”

His body relaxed and he dropped down to rest on his back, looking at you with a soft, curious expression. “It was,” he agreed quietly.

For a moment the pair of you just laid there, gazing at each other in a moment of wonder, before you suddenly became aware of how much colder the room was now that it was over. You shivered slightly, lifting to sit on your knees. Joel’s eyes trailed over your exposed body, gazing at your breasts, and your stomach, before resting on your face again.

“I’m gonna shower, and then hit the road,” you told him, cringing at the prominent ache between your thighs as you stepped off the bed. You picked your clothes up off the chair in the corner and turned back to look at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow night right, dinner at Maria and Tommy’s?”

He was watching you in a daze, eyelids heavy with drowsiness, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Dinner at Maria and Tommy’s.” His eyes suddenly widened and he rolled over, reaching underneath his pillow before revealing a piece of small dark fabric. Your underwear. He held them out in your direction.

“Keep them big guy,” you winked, and he laughed deeply, dropping them back onto the bed.

You padded towards the door, ready to pop into the bathroom and then head home, before a thought struck you. Resting your shoulder against the doorway you looked at him again, smiling at the sight of him lying naked and fucked out on the bed, eyes closed as he breathed deeply. He looked about as relieved as you felt.

“Hey Joel,” you said quietly, and his eyes flashed open, raising an eyebrow at you. “Between us, right? Probably best if we don’t tell anyone else this happened.”

He nodded once, smiling lazily. “Between us.”

part two

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #fwb joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #my writing #cat's outta the bag #don't cry over spilt milk #whole new can of worms

[starchaserwrites]

@jegulus-microfic / february 15: poison / word count: 787

When Regulus agreed to babysit Venus (Sirius and Remus' puppy), he thought the seven days they would be out of town would go smoothly. Thinking that was his first mistake.

The thing is, Venus is very quiet most of the time... except in winter when there are thunderstorms. It's winter, and what are the odds of that happening three nights in a row? One hundred percent, apparently. To say that Regulus' apartment was ruined is an understatement. 

His second mistake was thinking he could leave Venus alone for more than an hour to go shopping. Regulus takes full responsibility for this one, as he must have seen the noise complaints from his neighbours coming when he had the idea of leaving the husky with apparent separation anxiety alone.

Completely exhausted from lack of sleep and complaints, Regulus thought he could take some time out to distract himself by watching a movie with the puppy, which of course was Hachiko. They both settled down on the couch in the living room with a large carrot for Venus and a chocolate bar for him, and Regulus clicked play on the film. Regulus considers the eight and a half minutes he was awake an achievement. Third mistake.

One hour and fifty-two minutes later, when something warm licking his hand wakes him up, panic overcomes the youngest Black. Venus seems more energetic than ever, the carrot is intact except for a few bites, and there is no trace of what was left of his chocolate bar.

Missing chocolate + Venus = POISON

It's the equation that appears in neon letters all over his brain. 

Regulus can already imagine the thousand and one ways his brother and Remus will kill him for harming their baby, so for a long minute he sits, paralysed, eyes closed, as Venus chews on the sleeve of his hoodie.

When his phone vibrates, indicating a new message, that's all he needs to react, it's a message from Sirius asking how the little furball is, and just as Regulus is about to call and tell him everything in tears, a new message pops up, causing a light bulb to go on in his head.

J. Potter: Dinner tonight?

And Regulus has never been happier that James never gives up on him, so he decides to call him.

"I wasn't expecting you to call and finally agree to a date with me, but I suppose the solemnity of the occasion deserves it, what time shall I pick you up?" is the first thing he says.

"I need help, something bad happened," the younger man says, running his hand through his now tousled hair several times. There is a noise at the other end of the line, probably caused by a sudden movement.

"Where are you?

"I'm in my flat, but James, I need your help as a professional," Regulus says hurriedly. His brother's best friend has been a vet for about three years, so he should know what to do. 

"But you don't have - oh, is it Venus?"

A few minutes after Regulus chokingly confirms "yes" and explains the situation, James arrives at his flat. As he runs some routine tests on the husky, Regulus can't help but think once again how handsome the vet looks today and how grateful he is to have him in his life.

"Are you sure she ate it? She's not showing any symptoms of chocolate ingestion, her temperature is normal, as is her heart rate, and she's not puking. Have you checked the flat?" the doe-eyed man asks as he finishes his inspection. 

The lack of response is enough for James to start scanning every corner of the living room, and when he pulls the chocolate bar of discord from behind a potted plant, Regulus swears he could kiss him, but the feeling that he's been a complete idiot the whole week he's been with Venus is greater. So when the tears of relief and frustration start to fall, he can't help but feel pathetic. 

"Hey, it's all right, okay?" the older one says, reaching over and grabbing him by the shoulders, "I know taking care of Venus can be draining, I had my fair share of her a while back too. You must be tired, let me take care of you, okay?"

And that's how they end up sitting close together on the couch (only because Venus takes up most of it, that's the only reason, really), wrapped up in a blanket and a cup of chamomile tea, watching an episode of Dr. House that Regulus has already seen about 6 times, and knowing that in a few moments, and for the first time, he'll be the one asking James out on a date.

#a bit late but here she is #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #marauders #len writes

[angry-geese]

Sea, Swallow Me

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Warnings: not OSHA compliant. hurt/comfort, light angst, ex-husband Gojo. angry/hate sex, unprotected sex, oral (cunnilingus), fingering.

Synopsis: some ex-husband Gojo smut except him and the reader are still totally in love with each other >:)

a/n: this has been rattling around in my drafts since like march and I finally got my thoughts gathered enough to write it out lol

Word Count: 4.7k

jjk masterlist

Outside, the sky grows dark, signaling an incoming storm. The weather report called for it yesterday; off and on thunderstorms all night, and well into this afternoon. Not uncommon for this time of year. This morning’s grocery trip was one made with the hope of being back before another downpour started, and from the looks of it, you were successful.

Typically, when you come home, the cat is the first thing to greet you. Today, even after she hears your keys hit the counter, she remains just out of view. You don't mind it so much, even if you do find it odd. It gives you time to put away groceries, and the treats you bought for her without her begging for anything. 

The foul weather makes it as good a day as any to spend inside. Plenty of chores need to be done around your apartment, as work has begun to consume much of your free time. That’s nothing new. Certain times of the year are busier than others at Jujutsu Tech. It certainly doesn't help that two people are out due to injuries, and another is on maternity leave, meaning you’re on call nearly 24/7. 

The cat makes herself known only after she hears a can of food open, chirping as she trots into the kitchen. She stays long enough to finish eating, and get some pets from you, before settling into her spot on the window sill, intently watching leaves being blown around outside. You settle on preparing dinner: thawing meat, and chopping veggies for a soup that’ll take nearly an hour to simmer. 

A noise from the other room draws your attention; in the living room, the TV is on—something you vividly remember shutting off. A drama was playing, but the lead was giving you such bad second-hand embarrassment that you just had to shut it off.

Maybe you really are starting to lose it. 

You’ve seen it happen to others. The stress of the job—this way of life—gets to some. You could chalk it up to forgetting; maybe the cat stepped on the remote, or maybe you really did just forget. Come to think of it, didn't you turn off the lights in the kitchen before leaving too?

The back of your neck prickles with fear. Did someone really break in? You know this isn't a particularly nice part of town, but the chance of that happening is unlikely. Besides, there is no sign of forced entry. It's just a feeling of being watched. Nothing is missing, just some lights are on, and the books on your coffee table have been moved around, as if someone looked through them. Why go through the trouble then?

Nothing in particular tips you off to the presence behind you. It comes suddenly, and without warning. Fight or flight kicks in. With your elbow and wrist parallel to your collarbone, you swing outwards.

Any normal person's elbow would have been shattered by that hit. Satoru blocks it with little effort. He uses the weight of your movement against you, allowing you to fall against him. It doesn't take much time for you to realize what he’s doing, and shove yourself away from him.

“You broke in?” You say, although your voice doesn't carry any surprise. “I gotta admit, Satoru, that's a new low.”

“Technically I didn't,” he says, “I explained to the guy up front that I was your husband and he let me in.”

Internally, you curse your landlord, a sweet old man by the name of Saito. He was one of the few people who would let you move in on such short notice. This was never meant to be a permanent placement, but you suppose you don't have much to complain about here. It's an older building, but maintenance is consistent, and the interior has been completely redone. Your neighbors are quiet, pleasant people, and this is a nice corner of the neighborhood. Not nearly as luxe as your previous home, but not bad either.

As he sits down on the couch, the cat jumps straight into his lap. You know it's not fair to project human emotions onto her. She's just a cat. But you swear you see a smug little look on her face. She chirps, and bumps her head against his hand, purring loud enough it's audible across the room. 

“I think I would have rather dealt with a house robber,” you say.

“I mean, if you're into that kind of thing,” he says, “I can put the mask back on. We'll roleplay…”

“Absolutely not,” you say, snatching the remote for the tv, switching it off, “what do you want?”

Even sitting, he’s nearly eye-level with you. His hand comes up to tug at the silver chain around his neck. You don't know whether to feel angry, or sorry for him. Gojo is almost pathetic enough that you feel bad for him. Almost. 

“What?” He asks, feigning hurt. “I can't drop in to say hello to my lovely wife?”

“Ex-wife,” you say. 

Despite your current irritation with him, the separation was about as amicable as it could be. Although it’s not official in the legal sense yet, the two of you have been living separately for months now. There was no great turning moment in your relationship, just a lifetime of little things that forced a wedge between you two. These things happen. You were young when you married, and so consumed with grief that perhaps there wasn't enough thought put into it. You don't blame yourself for it, or for anything that happened. At the age of eighteen, you had a skewed view of the world. Mistakes were common at that age. That’s just part of growing up. You were young, and every emotion felt so much more potent back then. It felt right at the time. Hell, it was right.

Maybe you still love him. It’s hard to spend so much time with someone—have so many memories with them—and not love them.

“Tsumiki has a game Saturday,” he says, “you coming?”

You're slightly offended at the suggestion you would miss it. She sent you a text about it nearly a week ago. You swore to her you'd make it, even going as far as to make arrangements to leave work early.

“Of course I am.” You say. “I’ll take her—I’m off work early anyway.”

It's better for the kids that you remain an active part in their life. Megumi and Tsumiki have already dealt with so much upheaval in their life. It's cruel enough that one caregiver left them, but two? 

You tell yourself you couldn't do that to them. That alone was enough to get you to stay in your old apartment for a few more months. By then, the kids knew something was up. They're smarter than people give them credit for, and there's only so many excuses you can make for sleeping in separate rooms.

It's been maybe a year since then. Six months since you moved out. You wouldn't call it easy, but you’ve settled into your new routine quite nicely.

“Great,” he says, “why not go together then? I’ll drive. We can get dinner together afterwards.”

Your mouth opens in protest. Although it’s phrased as a question, you know him better than that. Satoru will do everything to weasel his way into this situation. Your barely-pleasant expression sours entirely.

“No, thank you,” you say, gesturing to the door, “now get out of my house.”

“Don't be like that, baby,” he says. His arms stretch out towards you, and you immediately dart out of their path. 

“I hated you calling me that when we were married,” you say, “what makes you think I’ve changed?”

“You haven't.” He says. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Within the air here hangs a rift that time won't heal. This room—this space—is too emotionally charged for you to think straight. Your head spins, clouded with anger and spite.

“Don't tell me you left the kids alone to come bother me?” You say.

Tsumiki is nearly fifteen, and pretty independent, but you don't like leaving the kids alone any longer than you have to.

“Of course not,” he says, almost looking offended, “Tsumiki is off at a sleepover, and I got your mother to watch Megs for the weekend.”

“You what?!” 

A look of shock and betrayal crosses your face. You love your mother dearly, really, but sometimes she can be a bit… much. Early on into your marriage, she was asking when you were going to have children of your own. Being freshly twenty at the time, your answer to her was simple: never. Megumi and Tsumiki were enough. You wanted to be able to devote your time—and attention—to them, not a newborn. 

Satoru catches you in your moment of shock, his arms snaking around your waist. Your hands plant on his wrists to shove them away, yet you stop yourself. 

The sound of your phone ringing in the other room gives you a reason to escape. You free his arms from your waist, heading into the bedroom. You don't hear him get up to follow you, yet you know he does. Sitting on the table beside your bed, still charging, is your phone. It’s Tsumiki. You only glance at your phone long enough to see her name, not what she’s saying. 

The end of the bed dips under his weight as he sits. He tries his best to be covert about it, but you feel his gaze wandering around the room. From the photos on the wall, to the papers on your desk, to the stuffed animals on your bed. Oh, you can hear his snide comments now.

“Those earrings are new,” he says. And you swear you hear a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. “Pretty.”

Goosebumps rise along your arm as he reaches out to feel it, brushing across your shoulder in the process. Crystals, although they may be glass, cut to look like gems, dangling from your ears. They’re blue in color; not a light slate, but a deep cerulean. Subtle enough that they’re rather unnoticeable from a distance.

“Shoko gave them to me,” you say.

She took pity on you once she found out about the divorce. Maybe she felt partially responsible, seeing as she was the one who introduced you two.

Getting sent off to the religious boarding school known as Jujutsu Technical college was a major blow to your teenage social life. At fifteen, all you wanted was to go to a normal high school with your normal friends. Yet you weren't granted such a luxury, and instead were thrown into a world you knew nothing about. You quickly found solace, and a strange kind of companionship in the girl that smoked behind the school: Ieiri Shoko.

If you didn't end up marrying him, you probably would have married her. 

For you, it wasn't love at first sight. You could barely stand him in the beginning. It was a rivalry that slowly turned into friendship, ending in romance, albeit with much prodding from Suguru and Shoko. Teenage love consumed the two of you harshly, and entirely.

It wouldn't be until years later, after the wedding, when you would find out they bet on it.

You don't push him away when he kisses you. Just a peck, nothing more. Like you’re teenagers, exchanging affections in the stairwell between classes. When the higher ups would get upset at you, not him, because he was the strongest and could get away with just about everything.

Of course you still love him. How couldn't you?

You were one of the first to look at him as something other than the strongest. Even after the star plasma vessel, and Toji Zenin. Even after Suguru’s death. Even through your own grief, your presence was constant. To him, the concept of not having you around was strange.

The taste of coffee and lipstick lingers on your lips. Your thumb comes up to wipe away the smudge of red that’s transferred to his lips. And you, so pliable and eager, fall right into his lap.

His lips find your neck, hands wandering from your arms, to your chest, to your waist. He’s savoring your closeness—the scent of your shampoo: coconut. Little do you know, he keeps a bottle of the stuff in his own bathroom. If anyone asks, he claims it’s Tsumiki’s. Only you would know otherwise. She hates the stuff, and has been buying her own since the moment she was able to. Really, he keeps it around because he can't bring himself to throw it away.

“Satoru, we shouldn't do this.” You say. You don't really want him too, it’s only to preserve your pride.

Then why is your body responding so well to him? Your body knows this routine. Maybe the last several months of living alone has sped up the process considerably. Blood rushes where it needs to be, and perhaps most shamefully of all, you’re wet. Although you’re not quite prepared yet, it’s just in the early stages of gathering.

A line of saliva connects his lips and your neck as he pulls away. “If you really wanted me gone, I wouldn't still be here,” he says. 

You tell yourself that, if you really wanted him to stop, then you wouldn't have spent so many nights dreaming of this. You wouldn't reach out to the cold spot on the bed beside you. Your subconscious wouldn't long for him in nearly every way imaginable. 

His hands trace across your waist, coming to take yours. They’re warm, albeit a bit shaky. He’s just itching to undress you—to claim what’s his. It's a sick, possessive side of him that’s only fueled by your recent months apart. He comes to kneel before you like a man bowed in prayer. Satoru sits in worship, but not for the favor of a higher being. You might as well be one to him. Should you wish it, the strongest—wielder of the six eyes—would worship the very ground before you. That devotion would soon become suffocating. It was a bandaid on an already failing relationship.

“Still want me to stop?” He asks, squeezing your hands. Whether that’s on purpose, or an accident, you can't tell. “You say no and I’ll stop here. Just give me the word and we won't ever have to do this again.”

In this moment, your body betrays you: you shake your head. You don't truly want him to go; you know that, he knows that. He wouldn't be poking and prodding at every little unhealed wound if that wasn't the case.

“I need to hear you say it,” he says. That’s when you notice what’s on the chain around his neck: his wedding ring. 

It's like he’s mocking you. Of course he still has it. Of course he saw that yours was still sitting on the bathroom counter. 

Satoru has always been like this. He pokes and prods, finding out where you’re weak. What cracks or wounds he can press his fingers into. Pushing boundaries comes natural to him. 

Maybe you’ve changed. Maybe he hasn't changed at all.

“I just want to get off,” you say. 

“Poor baby,” he coos, “you haven't gotten off at all while I was gone, have you? You should have called me. I would have taken care of you.”

“I think I'd rather call Nanami for that.” You say.

The chuckle he lets out sounds nervous. “I know you're joking,” he says, “but judging by the way he looks at you? I think he'd take you up on the offer.”

You believe it. It was a thinly veiled secret that Nanami harbored a little crush for you. The man would never go as far as to pursue his coworker, let alone his coworker's ex wife. This entire time, he’s kept a respectful distance, only speaking about your marriage if you expressed a want to do so. You’ve considered it. Hell, you’ve given it a lot of thought. You think maybe… just maybe, if the two of you were drunk or desperate enough, something could happen. But fraternizing with coworkers in such a way is ill-advised. 

Satoru is going to give him hell tomorrow when he sees him at work. Nanami will be none the wiser, assuming Satoru is up to his usual antics.

“One last chance to back out of this,” he says, “if you don't want to do this…”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You ask.

His fingers trace down the curve of your spine, before coming to the hem of your sweater, pulling it up—and over—your head. From him comes an audible little gasp once he realizes you have no bra on underneath. That part wasn't intentional; you need to do laundry, and your shirt was baggy enough that a bra wasn't necessary. Your nipples stiffen once exposed to the open air. Although you know how this looks, it sends a pang of self-consciousness through you, causing you to cross your arms in front of your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen this before. Maybe it's a last ditch attempt to preserve your pride. And he’s nearly tripping over himself to undress, pulling off his coat, then button-up, then trousers. Off comes your skirt, the silky fabric pooling around your feet. 

If you could stop for a moment and think, it would be endearing: the desperation that falls over you two like teenagers. He can hardly keep his hands off you, while you don't quite know what to do with yours. Eventually, you settle on wrapping your arms around his neck. 

You sit on the edge of the bed before him, still in your panties. Plain black. Nothing fancy, but cute. Maybe if you knew…

You almost scold yourself for thinking such things. It’s not like you had any way of knowing this would happen. You know part of it was to preserve your pride. Being able to move on without seeming like you needed him. He’s not your husband anymore; why go through the effort of getting dressed up?

Beside you, on the bed, he finds a spot to sit. He’s half hard already. His hands ghost up the outsides of your arms, before coming to cup your face. They soon fall to your waist as you move to straddle his lap.

Satoru leans in to kiss you, and it’s… uncharacteristically sweet. That almost makes things worse. If this were something over and done with quickly, that would be tolerable. You could chalk it up to raw emotions or hormones or something other than the fact you still have feelings for him and haven't come to terms with that.

Sex for the sake of mindless pleasure is one thing. It’s tolerable. You can explain it away easily. But the way he handles you—like you’re going to break—sends a pang of pain through your chest. It's too much. Should he act selfishly, that would be far more bearable than this. 

You almost want him to. It would be so much easier if he just took what he wanted, and left.

“Lay back,” he says, “like that. Good girl.”

You scoot back on the bed just far enough to fall against the pillows. Your thighs part just enough to accompany him. The body above yours is warm. His lips find yours, then your neck, then one of your stiffened nipples, softly biting down on it. That draws a sharp gasp from you, although the shock it sends down your spine is rather pleasurable. 

His fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs slowly. Achingly slowly. Shamelessly, his eyes linger on the way they stick to your already slick cunt. This moment is only dragging out because he wants it to. They’re tossed away alongside the rest of your clothes. Long, deft fingers come to trace along your slit; teasing motions done by a man who can barely contain himself. The patience of Satoru Gojo has limits, and you’re testing them.

He palms himself through his boxers. He's completely hard now. That doesn't stop him from trailing long, sloppy kisses down your stomach, and up your thigh. His thumb traces across the bundle of nerves. Slow and steady. Just enough to get you aching for him, but not enough to get you anywhere. You try to angle your hips towards him—to grind against him—but Satoru cruelty pulls his hand away. 

“Just… let me have my moment,” he says, chest heaving as he breathes in. 

So he admits it…

His thumb is soon replaced with his mouth, greedily licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves that is your clit. There's little rhyme or reason but it's just messy enough that it'll get you off. First, his index finger pushes into you, then another. Satoru must be moaning nearly as loud as you. The hand that isn't fucking out is wrapped around his cock, and he's bucking into it like it's a warm body. Judging by the noises he's making, he's going to cum, so he stops himself before he does so. You don't. Satoru guides you through your own orgasm, his mouth leaving your clit only after you've stopped trembling. It felt rushed. You're not quite satisfied.

Satoru makes a show of licking his fingers. When he kisses you, this taste only grows more prominent. He's making you taste yourself and you're not quite sure how to feel about it. It's not unpleasant, akin to unripe persimmons in taste.

“Is it how you remember?" You ask, a coy expression spreading across your face.

“Different,” he says, “better.”

There’s no time to grab a condom. Not that you have any in here anyway. Whatever consequences that result from this will be dealt with in the morning.

A small groan leaves him as he bottoms out. It's obvious that he tries to stifle it, and fails, resulting in a noise that certainly has your neighbors questioning things. You'll avoid their gazes in the hall tomorrow morning. This won't become a regular thing, you tell yourself. 

Hardly a few thrusts in and he knows he is going to cum too soon. You can see it all over his face. Pleasure turns to concentration, then thinly veiled stress. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. Some small, sick little part of you is grateful for your thin walls.

You hate him. You still love him. You wish he would walk out of your apartment right now. But part of you can't bear to sleep another night alone.

“You don't know how much I've been thinking about this,” he says, making a noise between a grunt and a huff, “about the way you feel. Taste. I couldn't get it out of my head.”

His mouth finds yours again and the kiss he exchanges with you is dripping with desperation. Something small, and quiet leaves his lips once they part with yours. You soon recognize it as an “I love you.”

He cums sooner than either of you expected, and from him, your name spills past his lips like a prayer. Though, you suppose that this is the closest he'll ever get to praying.

Your own release is still just out of reach. It doesn't take much effort to get him on his back, and you on top, riding him. He’s still hard, despite having just cum inside you. The fruits of his effort can be seen streaming down your thighs. Your movements grow sloppier as you grow nearer to your release, grinding down against him and his softening cock. Within your stomach, it’s as if an invisible band is tightening. Your own orgasm comes out in the form of a noise that sounds like both a moan and a sob. It's anger and pain mixing with pleasure. Tears of frustration are brimming along your lower lash line. You hate him. You love him. You wish he would leave but you don't want to sleep alone. A rift exists between the two of you that time will not heal.

Instead, you lay beside him on the bed. From beside you, he grabs a blanket for you to cover yourself with. As much as he missed the sight of your naked body, he knows this room is cold, and you’ll be getting up to get dressed anyway. 

To him, there’s not a more beautiful sight: you, laying on the bed beside him, leaking of his cum. It would be better if it were his own bed, he thinks, but this'll do. 

“I take it we’re on speaking terms again?” He asks.

“I don't know yet,” you say, “depends on how this conversation goes.”

From beside you on the nightstand, you retrieve your glasses, putting them back on. Outside, the sky still appears dark, only lit up momentarily by a bolt of lightning. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, running down your window in streams.

“Seems like great weather to stay in bed,” he comments. 

An arm snakes around your waist. You debate with yourself on whether or not to shove it off.

“I think some time apart will do us good.” You say, and the arm around your waist stiffens. He seems to be deciding whether to pull away or not.

“And what? Couples therapy too?” His tone suggests he's making a joke, but not one in bad faith.

“Just in general, you need therapy,” you’re only half joking when you say it, despite it applying to you too, “but I don't think there's one that specializes in whatever you have going on.”

“Funny.” He says flatly.

He lays on his back on the bed, and you lay on your side, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

“I don't know what I want.” You say, finally. “I guess I could use something to eat.”

You had plans to make a nice, elaborate dinner tonight, although you’re no longer feeling like it. You went through the effort of buying the ingredients, and cleaning the kitchen, so you might as well. 

Satoru follows you as you make your way to the kitchen, stopping once to pull on a shirt. It used to be one of his, he notes. Maybe enough time has passed that you don't remember. Maybe you do. It’s just long enough to fall towards the middle of your thighs—you won't be giving the neighbors a show. He stops long enough to pull his boxers back on, leaving the rest of his clothes discarded on your bedroom floor.

From a cabinet, you retrieve two mugs. On goes the kettle to boil. He watches as you fill the french press with one… two… three scoops of coffee grounds. Just enough boiling water goes in to wet the grounds—they have to sit for a few minutes before the rest is poured in. 

Your taste in coffee hasn't changed much over the years. You still take it with cream and sugar. Satoru—when he does drink coffee—takes it with enough sugar to make your teeth hurt. 

“We must be on speaking terms,” he says, “otherwise I'd have been kicked out by now.”

“If I was going to kick you out, I would have done it before we had sex. Not after.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee. 

Something about the casualness of this moment makes your chest ache; like the last year hasn't happened, and the two of you are just sharing a moment over coffee. 

Neither of you notice the front door opening, nor the jingle of keys being inserted into the lock. Tsumiki, standing in the doorway, nearly drops what she’s holding: a book. Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock, before narrowing into anger. 

“‘Miki!” You say, almost as shocked as her, if not moreso. “What are you doing here?”

“Returning this,” she says, holding up the book in her hand, “I sent you a text about it like an hour ago. What are you doing?!”

Truly, you don't have anything to say for yourself. Your mouth opens, and a few, broken fragments of an excuse come out. Satoru, looking nearly as surprised as you, simply waves to her, before disappearing into another room. That won't help your case at all. 

“Having coffee,” you say, “we were just talking about your game on Saturday.”

She seems unconvinced. Tsumiki, like most teenagers, is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. Silently, she sets the book on the counter, before turning back towards the door.

“I’ll see you at dinner," she says, leaving.

#jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #not osha compliant #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #ive kinda forgotten how to tag stuff tbh

[little-diable]

Summer Storm - Dean Winchester (smut)

Written for my lovely @smellingofpoetry 400 followers celebration – congrats again, love! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader are sworn enemies, enemies that keep hunting together. As Baby runs out of gas the two find themselves trapped at a beach, waiting for the summer storm to pass. Perhaps it is finally time to let go of their hatred

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car sex, enemies to lovers, please don't be like these two idiots and go for a dip in the ocean when a thunderstorm is raging

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (about 2k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

There was an uncomfortable silence lingering in Baby, filling the thick tension that grew with every breath exhaled from Dean and (y/n)’s lips. Dean had his green eyes focused on the road ahead, while (y/n) tried to follow the dark clouds moving by, gaze flickering between the ocean and the sky. They were on their way to a new town, set on finding a demon that seemed to keep the town’s citizens on their toes, forcing them to abide by its games. 

It wasn’t the first time (y/n) and Dean were on a hunt without Sammy near, wasn’t the first time both were forced to spend time together, and yet they still clung to the hatred simmering deep inside of them, calling one another their worst enemy. It was pathetic, bound together by a strange kind of hatred they’ve fuelled ever since they’ve met as teenagers, sticking to their routines, trying to avoid one another at any given cost. 

“What was that?” An unfamiliar sound echoed through the air, eyes snapping towards Dean to figure out why Baby was suddenly slowing down. A silent “Fuck” ripped from Dean’s plush lips, hands tightly grasping the steering wheel as Baby came to a halt on the side of the road. 

“We’re out of gas.” It took (y/n) a moment to reply, eyes wide, full of annoyance as she watched Dean close his eyes, head pushed against the headrest. “Shut it, I don’t have the energy to bicker with you right now. I’ll call the nearest gas station, it shouldn’t be that far.” 

With her lips parted, (y/n) gaped at Dean, not used to him speaking with words this rough, dripping with an unfamiliar annoyance. Both were all too used to their back and forth, to the words they’d growl, knowing that the other would react with matching energy. Not once had Dean backed down from a fight, not once had he pulled away, feeling a sick sense of pride in seeing (y/n) growing angry, fueled by his teasing words. 

While Dean pulled out his phone, googling for the right person to call, (y/n) stepped out of Baby, letting the warm Summer air engulf her. Before she could stop herself, her feet had already started walking, sinking into the sandy beach, drawn closer as if the ocean was calling out to her, forcing the woman to embrace the salty air stroking her limbs, eyes meeting the black sky above. 

It took her a moment to notice the raindrops falling from the fast moving clouds, dripping onto her frame. It felt as if the sky was crying, begging the woman to find her way back to Dean, who kept watching her from Baby. (Y/n) was all too oblivious to the way his eyes kept moving with her frame, always watching out for the woman he hated – at least that’s what he forced her to believe. 

“(Y/n)!” Dean called her name, hoping that she’d find her way back to the Impala before the rain would drench her clothes, but she didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t leave the sky once, feeling a strange sense of safety, with the summer rain resting on her shoulders and head, with the roar of thunder breaking through the afternoon. For months they’ve travelled from one town to another, hunting supernatural creatures without getting a day or two to breathe. This right here is what her heart had been aching for. 

“Didn’t you hear me? Come, before you get sick.” Dean’s growling voice forced her to turn towards him, watching the hunter with an almost stoic expression. For a few seconds all (y/n) did was stare at him, studying his handsome features, a face she’d curse at any given chance, not wanting to give into the pull she felt deep inside her chest. Only now did she seem to realise how tired Dean looked, exhausted just like she was, graced by the past months. “Alright, then stay here and get sick, see if I care.”

He turned from her, frozen in his step as she whispered his name. Slowly he turned back towards (y/n), watching her with raised eyebrows. “Let’s go for a swim. We haven’t been near the ocean for months, I don’t want to miss out on this chance.”

(Y/n) had started undressing before Dean could reply, wide eyes following the quick movements of her fingers. Even though his mind screamed at Dean to turn away, to find shelter inside his car, his hands started moving, pulling his shirt off his head. With only her underwear on, (y/n) moved towards the ocean, gasping in surprise as she felt his hand finding her wrist, pulling her further towards the rising waves. 

Both didn’t seem to care about the danger laying ahead, bodies lured into the ocean with aching lungs and trembling limbs. The cold water engulfed them, wrapping itself around them like a second layer of skin. Neither of them dared to speak up, bodies not parting as Dean pulled (y/n) into his chest, arms tightly wrapped around her middle.

“What are you doing, Dean?” She whispered her words, eyes trapped by his piercing ones. Another roar of the strong thunder echoed through the air, followed by more drops falling from the sky. 

“Not missing out on any chances.” Before she could even begin to realise what Dean was talking about, he had pressed his lips against hers. Their lips moved in sync, drawing a soft moan from (y/n), arms slung around Dean’s neck. The kiss was soft, testing the waters as the waves kept clashing against their bodies. Only as their lungs begged them for more air to breathe did they part, eyes not daring to break contact once. A bolt of lightning danced across the black sky, finally forcing the two to leave the ocean, grabbing their wet clothes.

With their fingers interlaced they ran towards the shower placed near the Impala, washing off the sand sticking to their bodies. Not one word was spoken, caught in their racing thoughts, unsure what to make of the past moments, wondering where their confidence had come from, breaking through their old patterns. The kiss had felt all too right, as if their bodies had been aching for this to happen ever since they’ve crossed paths, pushing them into their anger to protect their hearts from ending up broken in half. 

“Here, this should work as a towel.” Dean pushed a clean shirt of his into (y/n)’s hand, helping her into the backseat before he rounded the car. With another shirt of his Dean also started drying his shivering body, not yet ready to break the silence. Both were sitting next to one another, just in their underwear, with their eyes focusing on anything but one another. (Y/n) was shuddering in the seat, hands moving up and down her arms in a desperate try to warm herself up as she watched the raindrops roll down the windows. 

The whisper of her name filled the car, eyes slowly moving towards Dean, meeting his eyes that were filled with pain, wordlessly begging her to give in, to stray from the hatred they’ve clung to. As if their bodies knew how to tear down their walls, they moved closer, tangling them in a mess of limbs and lips, kissing one another as Dean pushed her down on the seat, towering over her. Perhaps it was their try to warm one another up, forgetting about the cold lingering inside their bodies, but perhaps it was their lust they’ve tried to bury six feet under years ago, finally giving in. 

“Fuck, let me touch you, please.” Dean murmured his words against her slightly swollen lips, fingers dancing up her sides, toying with her bra. Wordlessly (y/n) nodded her head, unable to use her words with her tight throat and her dry mouth. She wasn’t used to feeling something this intense, wasn’t used to her body reacting like this to Dean’s touch, but fuck, she never wanted to let go of this feeling ever again. Her bra was tossed to the front of the Impala, long forgotten as Dean’s mouth found her chest, kissing every inch of her body, making sure to love on every part of her. “So beautiful, fuck, been wanting to touch you for years.” 

His words drew a moan from her lips, eyes fluttering close to focus on his touch, on the way he kissed his way down her stomach, pushing her panties down her legs. With trembling hands (y/n) pulled Dean back up towards her for another bruising kiss, gasping as his hardening cock rubbed against her dripping cunt, giving her just the right amount of friction. 

“Fuck me, Dean, need you inside of me.” Her voice trembled, struggling to form any words as Dean kept grinding his middle against hers, distracted by the heavenly feeling. With one last kiss pressed to her lips, he let go of her, reaching for his wallet to pull a condom free. She watched him free his cock, watched him roll down the condom before he aligned himself, eyes searching hers. He pushed into her slow at first, allowing them both to adjust, not used to their bodies meeting like this, moulding together.

With one hand placed next to her head Dean moved his other hand down her body, fingers finding her cunt, rubbing circles on her bundle of nerves, drawing sinful moans from her. (Y/n) was trembling beneath Dean, eyes struggling to stay open, drawn in by the intense sensation, clinging to the newfound mixture of emotions filling her veins. Her head was spinning, unsure what to focus on, on the groans leaving Dean whenever she clenched around him, on the way his eyes were filled with such an intense gaze, or the nearing orgasm he forced her closer towards. 

“Feels so good, shit, don’t stop.” (Y/n) kept blabbering away, gasping for air whenever his cock met her swollen spot, unsure how long she could keep holding on. Both were urged on by the tension that had grown over the past years, bodies begging them to touch one another, finally allowed to do so, thanks to the summer storm and the gas Baby was aching for trapping them here. Her fingernails left scratches down his arms, clinging to him, needing to feel every part of him close. 

“It’s okay, baby, let go, I got you.” Her moans filled the car as her orgasm clashed through her like the waves rolling ashore, a beautiful spectacle Dean couldn’t help but marvel at. He gave it a few more thrusts, letting go with a moan rumbling through him, trying not to collapse on top of her. 

“Fuck, whatever that was, we need to do it again.” Dean murmured the words against her neck, face buried in the crook of it, deeply inhaling her sweet scent, mixed with the salty water still somewhat clinging to her. Her body shook beneath him, soft laughs filling her as she combed her hand through his hair, still trying to catch her breath. 

Both would have enough to talk about, needing to figure out where to go from here, but for the next few moments, they’d just listen to the sound of the summer storm, to the waves roaring near, and to the singing of their racing hearts.

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #smellingofpoetry400celebration #supernatural imagine

[nexerist]

Heyyyyy, so I got into writing since work hasn't given me time to actually work on my art. It will soon be resolved in a few weeks, then back to posting more often. I am making a comic again and almost done with it so I don't promise projects that won't come.

Enough about me, and let's get to you! This is a thunderstorm comfort I wrote a while back on AO3 and forgot to post it here. My collection is called Nebula Kisses. This one-shot can be seen as platonic or romantic, next one is more on the romance side but still can be platonic if you wish. But so I don't clog your feed, I'll post the next chapter tomorrow or later but within the week!

I also apologize for the weird formatting, this was written on my phone during the time so I don't have the fancy indents or proper grammar check.

Thank you for sticking around with my inconsistencies, I wish I had more time.

So much love,

Nexi

Breath |Sun/Moon x Scared!Reader|

[Power had gone out, leaving Sun and Moon to look for you in the dark. However, you are absolutely horrified of thunderstorms.]

The daycare was lit up during the town wide blackout. The rumbling generators along with the constant loop of the daycare music, Sunnydrop was busy awaiting got his favorite visitor. Who might that be, well none other than the security guard who is ordered to look out for the lobby, green rooms, and of course, the daycare. Y/N is what they call themselves, which Sunny really liked that when they mentioned it to him, he walked around repeating it like a song.

But they were late, a half hour late. He taps his foot impatiently, he checks the attendance and sees that they did clock in. What were they doing? Did they get lost? It's impossible to miss his big daycare! Surely you didn't forget either, his lovely face was everywhere, that had to remind you to check on him.

A quiet rumble of the storm outside rang through the building. According to the weather, it was going to be a rough and long storm ahead. Heard it was going to last until morning.

Sun, getting impatient, decided to look for them himself. Feeling confident, he takes his long strides to the daycare door, his hand reaching for the door knob. He felt himself pause for just a moment. He hasn't really left daycare, not that he can't leave, but it was risky. Last time he left was to take care of that rulebreaker and set up some banned signs around Kids Cove, but that was the furthest he went in a very long time. Sun was still very angry about it, but it did reopen the daycare after Freddy left. So maybe he should forgive him? Nah, he needs to apologize first.

Sun shakes his head, he was getting off track. He opens the daycare door, mind back on his mission. To find his Starshine. He takes his long strides, making sure to stay near the light and flashing signs. The easy part was now over as he got to the entrance door that faced the slide back into his daycare.

As soon as he opened the door with great confidence, he saw that is was pitch black. Maybe his friend did get lost, with this darkness and no flashlight, it would be nearly impossible to find him! Not taking into consideration of muscle and location memory. He felt Moon stirring from inside.

“Moon, sorry to wake you up from your nap. Our dear friend is missing and I had hope to do it myself! But uh... Looks like I can't do much.” He spoke aloud. Silence rang through his head, awaiting for his alter ego to speak.

Moon was recently having a fit, and not talking. This happened since Eclipse disappeared into the arcade cabinet when he was playing that discount floppy bird game. Moon had tried to get him out by playing the game, but something happened to him too. He became mostly unresponsive, giving out short phrases or sentences.

Sun would hear his alter giggle, which relieved Sun that Moon was at least in a good mood. Sun takes in a false breath of courage and walked into the dark. If he could close his eyes, he would've. The familiar pain in his face shocked through him, making him grab at it. He feels his rays click into his head on at a time, unlocking his chest compartment which his infamous hat was held in. It started from his fingers, the oranges and silver turned to white and blue.

Sun felt himself pull back and release control. He now stood outside and watched Moon take his hat and place it up on his head. Moon crouched down and stretches his legs, then start crawling on the floor towards the wall. Sun, not wanting to be alone, would do his best to follow.

“Little Star has gone missing.” Is what Moon would say before climbing up the wall and opening a vent to crawl through. He started to giggle and cackle, it echoing through the building and alerting that Moon was out early. The glamrocks retreating to their green rooms as to not go to parts and services.

*×*×*×*×*×*

You had entered the building on time, rarely ever late. Today has been storming hard, the rain pattering hard on the glass of the lobby entrance. Things were up and normal, doing your normal tasks. Checked stock, picked up any lost and found items to either throw away or await for the owner to come in the next day to pick it up. As you head into lost and found, that was when you heard it. It started as a small rumble before the sky roared a building shaking thunder, knocking the power out.

You have always been afraid of thunder since you were young. Not that you could explain it to anyone without the fear of being made fun of for a childish fear. It wasn't childish to you, it was real, the sense of dread and fear that paralyzed you proved it. You drop to the floor, staying as close to the ground as you could. If you could just find your flashlight, you had to crawl around a bit to then heard another rumble.

It took your breath away, your hands shaking as you retrieve the flashlight. Trying to find some solace in the light, you put your thumb on the switch and pushed up. Click. Click-click. Nothing. The flashlight, so cheap that it doesn't even last a hour with full charge, was dead and the charging stations were down. You were in the dark, the loud storm rattling the outside shutter doors, making it very loud and overwhelming.

You grab a blanket from the shelf and put it over you and your head. It just felt safer when surrounded by the soft fabric. Peaking through the opening, you hesitantly get on your feet again. You still had a job to do, but it was going to be slower. You would like your paycheck still and you knew how stingy the company was, taking your panic and finding a way to no pay you.

You would manage to get out of lost and found in the dark. On your way out, a little glow in the dark Monty was resting in a stroller. It must've been left behind but picking it up, it still had its tag and security pin. Rather, someone tried to steal it. It did produce light, enough to get around at least. However, these toys don't glow in the dark for too long. Got maybe, a solid twenty minutes? It's been dark for five, so fifteen. You did your best to scamper to the green rooms and peak around.

You arrive and you see the famous glamrocks interacting with each other. Monty with Roxy and Chica, heading back towards their respective rooms. Monty had taken over as temporary lead as they remade a new Freddy. They did have to use the scraped Mr. Hippo glamrock to fill the fourth spot. Your train of thought was cut off as another loud crash of thunder rang through the building. You huddle against a corner and put the blanket over your head again.

“Why... Why now... Why can't you come when it was after work...” You mutter as you croutch down and felt tears prick your eyes. Another crash finally made you crack, you try to hold back your tears but they started to stream down your face. All you felt was dread, paralyzing fear that. You wanted to scream in fear but that would reveal your fear. You try to be fearless, not let anything bother you. When you first met Sun and Moon, they were rather surprised that you approached them. You had a fascination with how they acted and looked. It was endearing, when you took the time to watch them and interact that even under their rough attitude and words, they were lonely.

Lonely.

Another crash, you were shaking and on the ground. Hands over your ears and a quiet sobbing from your blanket shell. You were too scared to notice the vent opening and the giggling of a certain jester. One with the Moon rather than the sun. The jester made his round, single red eye darting around to find something. Then he hears the sobbing, unfamiliar to his sensors. Crawling over, he finds the shaking blanket of which the sobbing came from. When he lifted the blanket that was when he saw you. Your glow in the dark Monty plush was almost out of glow, leaving you in almost pure darkness.

Moon was all you saw now, his eye lit up the small space. He tilts his head in confusion.

“Why is Little Star hiding? No monsters are here, just Moon” He spoke, unsure to react to the crying. You quickly wipe your face and sniffle, putting up your strong front.

“Cause uhh, I was playing a game..?” You made it sound more like a question than an answer. Of course, it was a lie, so Moon leaned closer.

“Then why cry? Liar, liar I hate liars. Speak truth.” Moon wipes a tear from your cheek. But as you go to answer, the loudest crash of thunder lands. It shook the building again, making the lights flicker and power back off. You yelp and cling onto Moon. You try to get as close as you could, fingers slipping a tad just for you to scramble to get your grip. You breathing escalated and felt the verge of hyperventilation. You weren't expecting anything from Moon, never was the touchy one unlike Sun who couldn't stop having tiny touches and bumps.

But you then felt mechanical arms wrap around you. He sat down and pulled you onto his lap, cradling you close to him. He gently rocks back and fourth, winding his broken chest music box. He was taking nap time protocol with some modifications. His broken music box plays a soft tune, though in some places it wobbled.

“Breathe. Deep breaths. It will be okay..” Moon whispers. You try to follow his instructions, still freaking out. Your shaking breath and hiccups try to find a rhythm. Moon rests his blue hand and rubs gently up and down your back. It was slow. “Breathe in..” He whispers, his hand gliding up slowly, helping you follow. You take a shuttering breath in, slow like his hand. It stops, in which you held your breath. “Breathe out...” His hand runs back down and you sigh out. It was then looped

Moon would then carry you, you holding onto him with your legs around his thin waist, him with a arm under you and one on your back to keep the rhythm going. He adjusted the blanket to keep it over your head.

He arrives back to the door of the daycare, avoiding the light, he hooked his arm around the wall to find the light switch to turn off the lights. He finds it and flicks it off, hearing the buzzing electricity stop. He peeks in to make sure and then walks in. He takes the long way around and gets inside the daycare. He would have the fly hook attach to his back and he glides over to his and Sun's tower.

“... Moon..? Why are we here..?” You asked, hearing the rumble again and wincing at the noise. Moon would hold you close as he goes back to crawling. He crawls through a small hole off to the side and see that it was a small hiding place. There was boxes, drawings, a mattress with a few pillows. There was also an arcade cabinet in the corner with the screen busted.

“Hide away, storm won't follow here.. Safe here..” He crawls onto the mattress and lays you next to him. The rumbles of the storms were dampened, making it barely audible. With the help of Moon's music box as well, he pets your head.

“... Thank you.” You mumble out, only for Moon respond with a fake click of his tongue. He giggled a bit and curled up around you, his legs are under yours, making you rest yours on top of his. You both cuddle up under the blanket, Moon rubbing your back to keep the deep breath rhythm.

A very loud roar of the sky fills the room, and you both tense up and huddle. A few more tears fall and Moon quickly wipes them away. It was the first time you would ever see Moon have a slight shake in his hand. He was afraid too, of thunder and storms. He was able to repress his fear as his tip top priority was to make sure you were okay first. But he felt as if he needed to keep up this false confidence that you could remain calm.

You mimic his movements, running your hand on his back in a soothing motion.

“Breathe...” You both say at the same time. You get as close as you two could and comforted each other. Moon pecks the top of your head. He felt safe with you, and you felt safe with him. For someone as reclusive as Moon, this was a good bonding experience that neither of you would forget.

#fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sundrop #moondrop #fnaf moondrop #fnaf moon #dca sun #fnaf dca #dca fandom #dca fnaf #dca moon #dca #sun x reader #sundrop #sundrop x reader #moon x reader #moondrop x reader #fluff #angst with a happy ending #moon is a softie #Sun is a nervous wreak #first fanfic in 4 years #please be gentle

[fourstarsoutofnine]

Can I request Sky x reader where reader gets rescued by him and it's also their first time meeting each other as well? uhhh something like Sky slays the monsters that held reader captive and then they can properly meet. hope it's not confusing.

Safety

Sky x reader <3

Warnings:none other than this is probably straying from canon. Also it’s short and probably bad, I haven’t written anything for Loz in a while, but bc of a resurgence in my Zelda era I’m back.

Link was going about his day like any other weekend. He slept in late, got up around noon, walked around with a dazed smile on his face. The surface had its perks. Of course he loved living up in skyloft, but there was something so enchanting about the surface. The vegetation was so much more lush and beautiful down here… everything was rather dry in the sky… made sense, it was always direct sunlight… all the clouds loomed below. He’d since experienced rain for the first time, and loved it. His first thunderstorm, however—that was different. He reminisced as he walked along a path, the master sword on his back as it always was. He was ripped out of his daydreams by a bloodcurdling shriek. He took off and found someone being backed into a wall by a bokoblin. They were holding their head as the bokoblin raised its weapon, ready to strike. Link stepped in between the person and the beast, catching its weapon in his shield. He slew the beast and turned, crouching in front of you. “Are you okay..? You’re not hurt anywhere, are you..?

Too stunned to speak, you shook your head. You weren’t hurt—or at least, you didn’t think so. Your adrenaline was still pumping so hard you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Link held his hand out and you took it, letting him help you up. He helped you back to the main trail, and back to town with the others. Finally, you were calmed down enough to speak. “Thank you for saving me… I’d be a goner if you weren’t there.”

“It’s nothing at all.” He smiled softly. “I’m Link, by the way.”

“The hero. I know.” You smiled just a little. “Y/n.”

“Well, y/n—it might be wise to keep a weapon when you’re straying from town..” he laughed a little. “I could teach you how to use one sometime..?”

“I might take you up on that… I mean—I’ll definitely take you up on that.” You laughed. “It’d be useful. Thank you, hero. Or—Link. Thank you, Link.”

“Of course… stay safe, y/n.”

“You too.” You smiled, watching him walk away as your friends rushed up to check on you and get all the details from the conversation you shared with the hero.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #sky x reader #lu sky

[charmingsoa]

■ Bring it On Home to Me (one) ■ John Egan x OC ■ ■ Multi chapter story ■

⚠ Chapter warning ⚠ Sexual content, physical and verbal abuse, mention of sexual assault, cursing, sexism. Please be advised when reading.

🚨 A/N: Hello and welcome to the first real chapter of Bring it on Home to Me! So, this will start at the very beginning of Vanessa and John's journey and I found it important to focus the first chapter on Vanessa's life before John. It will feature some moments that are tough to read and the warnings have been posted above. It will also feature German and British words - Google was my friend for this chapter! I hope you all enjoy the update and I would love to hear your thoughts, opinions, anything really! My DM is open and ready!!

📣 If you would like to be tagged, please let me know 📣

The atmosphere in the room was thick with a mixture of desire, desperation, and a touch of melancholy. The women moved gracefully among the patrons, their painted smiles hiding a myriad of emotions – from weariness to resignation to a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight would bring a reprieve from the harsh realities of war.

The soldiers, their uniforms worn and dusty, bore the weight of the battlefield on their shoulders. For a moment in time, they sought solace in the arms of these women who offered fleeting moments of respite from the chaos and carnage that awaited them outside.

The women, too, carried their own burdens – stories of loss, of shattered dreams, of lives upended by forces beyond their control. Yet in the dimly lit room, they transformed into sirens of solace, offering comfort and companionship to those who sought it amid turmoil.

For these girls, the prospect of spending the night with a soldier meant more than just a temporary escape from the harsh realities of war. A chance to rest their weary bodies and minds in the comfort of a warm bed. The opportunity to freshen up and tend to their basic needs was a luxury in a world where survival often took precedence over self-care.

I was one of the fortunate ones with relatives who still resided in the small town where many of us had sought refuge. My aunt’s house giving me shelter when the night was over. There were times when I would accept the gentleman’s offer to stay until morning, most of the time sneaking out before the rooster had time to crow.

My home in London, once a bustling metropolis teeming with life and energy, now lay in ruins – a somber reminder of the indiscriminate nature of conflict. The streets I had once walked with purpose and pride were now buried beneath layers of concrete and ashes, the echoes of past laughter and conversations drowned out by the deafening silence of destruction.

My family – or what was left of family now only consisted of my aunt – my earned money keeping the bank from taking the house from under her feet. She didn’t agree with what I was doing to make the money, but that didn’t stop her from pushing me to leave every evening, making sure that I wore the dresses that would get the most attention.

“Slow night, huh?”

The bartender smiled as he poured the glass full of the brown liquid that kept my courage high enough to get through to the next day. “Seems that way.” I gave a nod as I nursed the glass.

My last client was over an hour ago – a poor RAF soldier – married to his secondary school love. I could tell he was a nervous wreck, his hands shaking like a leave in a thunderstorm. He explained to me that his CO had sent him to us – to take the edge off before he was sent off into the air. He didn’t want to do much – just talked about Lucille and his hope to finally get back to her once the war was through. Like many of the soldiers that had crossed my path, I wished them the best, saying a silent prayer as they walked out the door, back to a hell that no one could escape.

"Nessa – you're up!"

The words pierced through the subdued ambiance of the room, a sense of purpose stirred within me, pulling me from the comfortable numbness that had settled over my thoughts. With a quick glance in the direction of the older man who requested my service, I took in his features – a strong jawline, broad shoulders – devoid of any telltale signs of military service.

Finishing the last remnants of my drink in a single smooth motion, I slid off the stool with a practiced grace, the fabric of my dress whispering softly against my skin as I straightened it with deliberate care. The air around me seemed to crackle with anticipation, a silent energy that hummed beneath the surface of the room.

Louella, the madame of the establishment, offered me a brief nod of approval before turning her attention to the other patrons. With measured steps, I made my way towards the man, my movements a delicate balance of confidence and allure, honed through years of navigating the intricacies of this world.

"Hello," I greeted him, my voice dipping an octave lower, the cadence laced with a hint of sultriness that mingled with the lilting notes of my native accent. In that moment, as our eyes met, I stepped into the role that had become second nature to me – a performer on the stage of desire, where masks were worn, and truths were whispered in the shadows.

He chose to stay silent, simply nodding his head, his hands in his pockets in a defensive manner. There had been men like him that stayed silent for most of the evening, only speaking when asked what they would like to do. This man felt different – his demeanor feeling like that of an ice block.

I hesitated for a moment, pushing away my gut feeling that this was going to end badly if I continued. I – Aunt Beatrice needed the money. I could do anything for a short amount of time, whether standing up or flat on my back.

Walking into the back bedroom, I stepped inside the dimly lit room, jumping slightly as he slammed the door shut behind us. His eyes boring into my soul. I cleared my throat, breaking the suffocating silence that enveloped us. "So, um, what exactly did you have in mind?" My voice sounded small and insignificant against the backdrop of his brooding presence.

He just stood there, never breaking eye contact as he evaluated me – searching for any cracks that he could fully break. "Take off your dress," he commanded, his German accent adding an edge to his words even though they were barely audible.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly reached up to the neck of the dress, my fingers pulling at the knot as the two pieces of fabric fell. The humid air hitting against my bare skin as the man’s eyes devoured my exposed chest. My hands pushed the remaining portion of the dress down to the floor, carefully stepping out of the ruched fabric as I now stood in nothing but a pair of heels in front of the stranger.

His long, slender finger pointed towards the bed, the dim light casting eerie shadows across the room. Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as I followed his gesture, my heart pounding in my chest. I approached the bed, feeling a sudden wave of self-consciousness wash over me as I carefully took a seat on the crisp linen.

“Lie down and touch yourself.”

My eyes furrowed in confusion at his demand. "Excuse me?" I stammered, taken aback by the unexpected request.

His throat cleared in an annoyed manner, the sound cutting through the tense silence like a knife. I could sense his impatience, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the air suddenly charged with a palpable tension.

“I told you to lie down and touch yourself like the whore you are.”

As I held his gaze, I could see the hatred coursing through his piercing blue eyes like a raging river. The intensity of his emotions was almost tangible, a seething anger simmering just beneath the surface. It was as if a storm brewed behind those icy eyes, ready to unleash its fury at any given moment.

Gulping nervously, I gradually positioned myself on the bed, the creak of the mattress beneath me breaking through the hot air. With a trembling hand, I reached up to fan my hair out around me as I laid flat on my back, the cool touch of the sheets a stark contrast to the heat of the moment.

As I stared up at the moldy ceiling above me, a wave of despair washed over me, mingling with the fear and uncertainty that churned in my gut. The damp patches on the ceiling seemed to mock me, their distorted shapes dancing before my tear-filled eyes. Each droplet of water that dripped down felt like a painful reminder of the situation I found myself in.

“I told you to touch yourself, you stupid slut.” His anger spilled over, a palpable force that filled the room and washed over me like a wave. "Are you deaf?" I flinched at the harshness of his tone, the venom in his words striking a nerve deep within me.

I suddenly felt dizzy as I took a few deep breaths, my eyes tightly closed as I tried to compose myself. My hand shook violently as it moved down my body, resting atop my pussy as the first tear rolled off the side of my face.

“Mach es jetzt!” The german words crashing through the room like a loud clap of thunder. “Dumme hure!”

A stifled sob escaped through my quivering lips as my trembling fingers found my clit. The air growing heavy, the silence broken only by the ragged sound of my uneven breaths. I kept my head turned away from preying eyes of the man, my eyes tightly closed as the panic of the situation and the sensual feeling of my own touch conflicted my thoughts.

Soft moans formed in the depths of my constricted throat. Each heartbeat drummed a frantic rhythm in my chest, a desperate plea for escape echoing in the confines of my mind. The rustle of fabric filled the room, amplified by the deafening silence that hung between us, as the man’s hand slowly pulled at his trousers. The metallic rasp of the zipper being pulled down cut through the air like a blade, its sharp sound reverberating in my eardrums with a chilling finality. With each article of his clothing hitting the floor, every nerve in my body screamed in protest, a primal instinct urging me to flee from the impending unknown that lay before me. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I heard him step closer to where I laid, each passing moment stretching into an eternity of fear and uncertainty.

With a trembling breath, I braced myself for whatever fate awaited me, already resigned to the harsh reality that my body would bear the brunt of this twisted exchange – the finale being a crumpled up 10 note thrown on my bruised body like I was a piece of rubbish on the street…

“Holy shit-“As Aunt Beatrice took a drag from her cigarette Her gravelly voice cut through the tense silence like a knife. “What in the heavens happened to you?” Her eyes narrowing as they assessed the bruises that adorned my face like a grotesque mask.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, acutely aware of the judgment that seemed to emanate from her every word. The memories of the horrific night flashed before my eyes – the yelling, the shoving, the pain. I clenched my fists, trying to push back the rising tide of emotions threatening to engulf me.

Louella's callous words echoed in my mind as well, her nonchalant attitude towards my suffering sending a chill down my spine. "It's the name of the game, dear. Just make him happier next time," she had said, as if my pain was a mere inconvenience to be brushed aside.

The image of the newsstand attendant’s horrified expression haunted me, his eyes widening in shock as they took in the extent of my injuries. I had muttered a barely audible thank you, my gaze fixed on the ground as I hurried away, desperate to escape the prying eyes of strangers.

And now, facing Aunt Beatrice's mocking laughter, I felt the last shreds of my composure slip away. The weight of her words – dripping with disdain and superiority – crashed down on me like a ton of bricks.

"Here's the money from tonight," I said, tossing the notes onto the table in a messy wad. They fluttered down haphazardly, some landing askew. "I think there's close to 30 there or should be at least."

She reached out to straighten the crumpled bills, her brow furrowing as she quickly counted them. “Looks like you’re four pounds short, sweet child.” The use of adoring nicknames not masking the shortness of her tone. “Four pounds short and the bank wants to collect today – are you trying to make me lose my precious home?”

Glancing between her and the money on the table, confusion was etched on my face as I knew there was enough when I counted this morning. "That can't be –" My voice wavered, uncertainty creeping in. "I could've sworn there was 30 there this morning."

Beatrice's head lulled to the side, her dismissive tone cutting through the tension. "You were never the best at counting money, sweetheart," she quipped, a puff of smoke from her cigarette swirling lazily in the air before being exhaled right in my face. The sharp scent momentarily overwhelming my senses.

"I think it's best you get out there and get the money – wouldn't want you to be back on the streets again," she added, her words carrying a hint of warning.

She slowly pushed herself up from the table, the notes disappearing into the depths of her worn nightgown. Her dirty housecoat dragged along the floor as she shuffled towards her rotting chair, the frayed fabric whispering against the dusty floorboards. I stood dumbfounded, my mind racing as I tried to piece together where the cash could have disappeared to.

"Best get going, darling Vanessa," her raspy voice reverberated off the newspaper-covered walls, "Make sure to powder up before you leave – don't need those soldiers looking at you like a punching bag."

My shoulders slumped in defeat as I started walking towards the small room that held all my earthly possessions. Everything I could salvage from the rubble of my London home was now crammed into a space resembling a broom closet. The dresses I had collected through the years hung in a row, most too conservative for the line of work I found myself in.

Among the clothes were photos of my childhood – snapshots of my mother and father, frozen in time, their smiles forever preserved. In those images, there was no evidence of the sadness and despair that would later come to define my life. The young girl in the photographs had no inkling that in just a few short years, her father would be gone, leaving her at the mercy of an ungrateful aunt who would exploit her for the sake of paying the house notes.

“Chop chop, Vanessa – time's not stopping," Beatrice's voice called out. I rolled my eyes at her words, a mix of irritation and resignation washing over me as I reluctantly acknowledged the urgency of the situation.

As I made my way over to the vanity, my heart sank into my stomach at the sight that greeted me. The reflection in the mirror revealed the extent of the damage inflicted by the German's hand. My once carefully painted lips were now split at the top, a deep purple bruise spreading under my left eye. His fingerprints were scattered like dark constellations across my skin, leaving behind dancing indentations that served as a painful reminder of his violent touch. The marks on my neck and upper chest bore witness to the brutality of his actions, his decaying teeth leaving behind their mark.

With trembling hands, I reached for the makeup on the vanity, determined to conceal the physical reminders of the night's brutality. As I applied layer upon layer of foundation and concealer, I pushed the events in the back of my mine, determined to put on the facade that everything is fine and get the money that Aunt Beatrice needed. I readjusted the dress that I had worn through the night – giving myself a small smile in the mirror – the bruises faintly showing through the mask.

My heels clicked against the wooden floor with each step I took back to the main room. Beatrice's gaze trailed down my body as she took in my appearance, her eyes assessing and judging. "It's a real shame," she spoke, her voice cutting through the air as her eyes met mine.

"Pardon?" I replied, a sense of unease creeping into my voice at the ominous tone of her words.

A sickening smirk twisted on her wrinkled face as she continued, her words like venom dripping from her lips. "It's a real shame that American soldier never came back to fetch you." Her words landed like a heavy blow, my heart sinking at the cruel reminder of a past hope that had long since faded. "He was quite a looker – could've gotten you out of this hellhole and away from the hands of all those men," she continued, her tone laced with a bitter edge. As she lit another cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around her, her words hung heavy in the air. “Guess you’ll just have to be another whore on the street who has nothing to show for her life.”

My eyes moved towards the ceiling as I fought back the tears that pricked against my lower lids. "You're gonna ruin all that work if you start crying," her voice gruff and devoid of any trace of empathy. "These men aren't gonna pay for ya if they see those bruises,” The harsh reality of her words cut through me like a knife, leaving a trail of raw emotions in its wake.

"Wouldn't that be a shame," I sarcastically chuckled, the bitterness of my words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. The tension in the room crackled with unspoken resentment and suppressed fury. "I guess no money means no house, right?"

Her eyes shot daggers at me, a silent promise of retribution simmering beneath the surface. "Guess you'll have to join me on the streets, Auntie Beatrice," I continued, my tone cutting and cold. The same sickening smile that she'd give me mirrored on my face, a twisted reflection of the familial bond that had long since fractured beyond repair. "Get those hoses washed and ready,"

This time she chose to stay silent, her rigid posture and clenched jaw betraying the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. I could sense the turmoil festering inside of her, the knowledge that kicking me out of the house would sever her only source of income. There was no way she would go and find a job. No one was gonna hire a crippled old woman, especially with a war raging on like it was.

"Don't come back without my money," she finally spoke, her voice cold and distant. I rolled my eyes in response, a gesture of defiance and resignation mingled into one. I stormed out of the house, the door slamming shut behind me with a finality that echoed in the empty hallway…

I grimaced as he pulled out of me – his sweaty body collapsing off to the side as his large stomach rose and fell in a fast pace. The whiskey that I had consumed earlier now wearing off, the image of the man lying next to me making me groan internally – the way of his touch making my stomach churn. “Goddamn girl –“ His American accent thick. “Where’d you learn to fuck like that?”

I stayed silent, trying to play off like I was sleeping. The rustling of his head turning on the pillow as he looked over at me, making my heartbeat faster, the prayer that he would just leave repeating in my brain. The feeling of the thin sheet being pulled away from my body caused a shiver to run down my spine as his fingers lightly danced across my breast.

 “My oh my –“His smoker laced voice whispered as his mouth closed over my nipple – his teeth tugging on the sensitive skin causing a moan to slip past my lips. "I knew that would wake you up," he chuckled, his rotting teeth revealed a mischievous smile before finding the bud again.

I kept my hands pressed tightly against my side as his callused hands, weathered by countless months of war, pulled me closer to his body. The lingering scent of the day's heat clung to his skin, the smell causing my stomach to roll with nausea. Just as his hands reached between us, a sudden commotion outside the room shattered the moment. The sharp sound of hurried footsteps echoing on the wooden floors jolted him back to reality, breaking the seal that he had on me. His body moved to a sitting position, muscles tensing as his gaze fixated on the wooden door The commotion outside persisted, casting a shadow of unease over the room.

Feeling uneasy, I too rose slowly from the bed, hastily pulling the sheet tightly around me Thoughts raced through my mind, fueled by fear and the chilling rumors that circulated through the town. Whispers of German soldiers raiding taverns, killing the men and taking the women prisoners.

“I'm getting the hell out of here," the man muttered urgently, his movements swift as he practically threw himself to the floor in a rush to gather his clothes and make his escape.

As he frantically gathered his belongings, my concern shifted to a more practical matter. "What about my money?" I blurted out, stumbling out of the bed with the sheet trailing behind me like a makeshift gown. Determined not to be left empty-handed after our transaction, I followed him around the room, my finger jabbing into his shoulder to emphasize my point. "This wasn't free, mister."

His stocky body pushed past me, a look of fear etched on his face, his eyes darting around the dimly lit room. As he reached for his jacket hanging on the back of the chair, I saw my opportunity to grab what I came for – the money that was rightfully mine. After everything I had been through with this man, the betrayals, the lies, the deception, I wasn't about to leave empty-handed.

With determination fueling my actions, I lunged forward and seized the other end of his jacket, my hands frantically searching the pockets, desperate to find any trace of cash. The fabric crumpled beneath my fingers as I dug deeper, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Get your fucking hands off my jacket, slag!” His voice boomed through the room, a mixture of rage and panic, as his grip tightened on my arms, his nails digging into my skin.

Pain shot through me, but I refused to let go, driven by a mix of anger and desperation. The struggle escalated, our bodies twisting and turning in a chaotic dance of conflict. With a sudden burst of strength, he pushed me to the ground, the impact reverberating through my bones. Gasping for breath, I watched as he made a hasty escape, his heavy footsteps fading into the distance.

I ran out of the room, the adrenaline pumping through my veins, my heart racing with a mix of exhilaration and apprehension. The curious gazes of onlookers met mine as I scanned the hallway, searching for any sign of the man who had just slipped away from my grasp.

As I stood there, trying to catch my breath, Louella appeared at my side, her presence always bringing me a sense of dread.

"Well, at least there's some good news in all of this," Louella remarked casually, her tone tinged with a hint of mischief.

I turned to face her, my eyes meeting hers in a moment of silent communication. "And what might that be?" I inquired, my voice hinting with skepticism.

With a nonchalant gesture, Louella reached into the pocket of her nightgown, producing several crumpled notes. I watched intently as she smoothed them out and began to count, the sound of rustling paper filling the tense silence between us. Finally, she held up four bills, neatly arranged between her fingers.

"Germany has surrendered," Louella announced matter-of-factly, her words carrying a weight of significance that resonated in the air. "And there's a gentleman asking specifically for you down in the lobby."

She slipped the bills into the top of the sheet, patting the area lightly before she started walking away. The crisp sound of the bills sliding into place seemed oddly loud in the hushed room. I watched as she started walking away – her signature cane leading the way.

“Oh –” Her voice was soft yet carried a hint of playful suggestion. She paused, slowly turning to face me once more. “I would suggest leaving the sheet on – I don’t think you’ll be wearing it for very long.”

With a coy smile, she sauntered out of the room, my mind racing with thoughts of who could be waiting and her suggestion of keeping my body covered only in the thin, white sheet. Usually, Loella wanted her girls dressed to the nines – giving the man something to fantasize about before they seen what we were hiding underneath.

I snatched the money out of the cloth, feeling a rush of adrenaline as I walked back towards the bedroom. The crisp notes rustled as I stuffed them deep into my purse. Taking a deep breath, I was somewhat relieved that I had gotten the money for Beatrice. The weight lifting from my bare shoulders as I took a seat at the vanity. Checking out my tousled appearance, I did my short routine, giving my face a quick powder and running my fingers through my tangled hair. I needed to compose myself, to present an air of confidence in myself.

Once satisfied with my appearance, I took a deep breath and gathered the bottom of the sheet, preparing to descend to the bottom floor where the mystery man awaited. Each timid step down the staircase seemed to echo in the hushed space, heightening my sense of anticipation. The soft fabric of the sheet whispered against my skin, a reminder of my daring choice to leave behind the trappings of modesty. As I reached the lobby, a rush of emotions washed over me – excitement, curiosity, a touch of fear.

As I entered the room, the crackling fire cast a warm and inviting glow, despite the balmy weather outside. The man, with his back turned towards me, seemed completely engrossed in the dancing flames. His worn brown leather jacket, weathered by time and use, exuded a sense of comfort and familiarity.

I couldn't help but notice the way his short brown hair fell against the nape of his neck. A ruggedness exuding from his stance. His broad shoulders, tense with an unseen burden, hinted at a strength that belied his gentle demeanor. The dark slacks he wore hugged his hips perfectly, emphasizing his sturdy frame.

My bare feet made no sound as they padded softly against the floor, bringing me just inches away from the man. With a silent resolve, I took a breath and extended my hand towards him, the cool leather of his jacket meeting the warmth of my palm. His muscle tenses under my touch, my body backing away slightly as he began to turn to face me.

John Egan

My heart nearly shattered into hundreds of pieces as the face that invaded my dreams nightly stared back at me – the same blue eyes that caused me to melt in the back of that bar all those years ago now stared back at me. Memories flooded my mind like a relentless tide, carrying me back to that fateful night when our paths first crossed. The fear that he had died on the frontlines haunted me daily as I would picture us together. His promise to come back for me and take me away from this world was something I held onto – praying to the Lord above that he would be the one to fulfill that promise.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years, and still, there was no sign of him. The war raged on, claiming the lives of so many brave souls, and I was left to wonder if he had become just another casualty of the brutal conflict. But deep down, a flicker of hope remained, a tiny flame that refused to be extinguished.

 His callused thumb reached up, wiping away the tears that had fallen. His towering figure loomed over me, his eyes filled with a mix of weariness and determination.

"I told ya I'd come back for ya,"

#john egan #callum turner #callum turner imagine #callum turner smut #callum turner x reader #callum turner x y/n #john egan smut #john egan imagine #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #masters of the air imagine #masters of the air fanfiction #masters of the air #bucky egan smut #bucky egan imagine #bucky egan x oc #Spotify

[punkette1026]

Thunder Rolls

Summary: As a thunderstorm rolls into town, you can't help but go down memory lane reliving how much life has changed for you. For Joel, it brings pain and sorrow and a request that you just can't just say no too.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mentions of character death, pregnancy

This is my first Joel fanfic! Please be gentle, but I am open to feedback.

Also shoutout to our amazing discord group pascal's fan net for the inspiration for this story. You are all amazing writers

You have been awake for a while now. The sounds of a thunderstorm off in the distance and the sudden cold breeze that came through the opened window in your bedroom were enough to wake you from your sleep. You could have fallen back to sleep, but your parched throat forced you to get out of bed and walk downstairs to get a glass of water. As you pass the last bedroom before you get to the stairs, you peek in and see Ellie fast asleep snuggled in her bed. She was such a sound sleeper that not even the storm brewing outside was enough to wake her. You were so happy to have her in your life and you couldn’t believe how fast she was growing into a remarkable young woman. Just thinking about it, causes you momentarily to go down memory lane…

You had met Joel and Elle three years prior in an abandoned mall in Montana. You were reminiscing on the days pre outbreak as a young teen where you would spend hours on the weekends shopping with friends and eating your weight in junk at the food court. Joel and Ellie had caught you by surprise in a decaying clothing store as you were trying to find something remotely useful and that would fit your tiny frame. As you came out of the backroom of the store, you were met face to face with a hunting rifle. You could recall Joel looking like he hadn't slept in weeks and poor Ellie was dressed in nothing but a hospital gown and what you can only guess was Joel’s jacket protecting her from the cold chill in the air. 

After a brief standoff that felt like hours, you both concluded that neither parties meant no harm and had agreed to go your separate ways no questions asked. However, Ellie had been the one to protest and had asked if you would tag along with them. At first Joel protested, alluding to the fact that he and Ellie were on the run and they didn’t have time to carry around anymore “cargo” with them. They had to get back to Jackson to warn his brother Tommy what had happened days prior. After a quick argument and one look of disapproval from Ellie was all it took for Joel to give in and allow you to tag along with him on the condition you listen to every word he said or he wouldn’t think twice to shoot you.

You and Ellie hit it off right away like you had known each other your entire life. It was nice to have another person yet alone, another girl to talk to even though she was ten years younger than you. You both gossiped over everything you had been through and both took joy in teasing Joel over how much control Ellie had over him. All of which he would roll his eyes and let out an occasional mumble that you couldn’t make out. You would take that reaction though. Joel was one tough egg to crack. He was one big mystery. He would only speak a few words to you here and there. Always keeping his distance. You would often hear Ellie snapping at him, telling him that he needed to be nice and that you never did anything to deserve such a cold response. 

That seemed to change something in Joel because one night before you reached Jackson, during your night watch, he approached you as you overlooked the ridgeline. You both sat there in silence until you decided to make the first move. You started to open up to him, telling him how you became alone after watching your family get picked off one by one either by raiders or the infected, how you then bounced from QZ to QZ, and everything in between up until the moment you met him and Ellie. You didn’t expect him to tell you anything back. You just wanted to tell him more about you in order for him to trust you. However, in total surprise, Joel opened up to you, sharing his journey. He told you everything from his former partner Tess, how he reunited with his brother Tommy, and the most shocking, what happened with the Fireflies and Ellie. That night opened a new world for you both. From then on you both grew closer sharing glances, smiles and the occasional need to feel each other's touch when Ellie wasn't looking. 

When you got to Jackson, the feelings didn't stop there. When Tommy offered you your own place to stay, Joel quickly protested. He claimed there was no need to take up space that another person can use when he and Ellie had a home big enough to fit all three of you. The real reason though, he couldn’t stand being away from you. He needed you by side. He needed to protect you. You felt the same. Joel made you feel at peace. He eased your mind when it ran into overdrive and he became a shoulder to lean on when you need to cry. Some nights after a long day of patrolling, you would cuddle up by the fireplace, him with whiskey and you with wine, and you would unravel what happened that day. It was one of these nights that you shared your first kiss deciding to give a relationship a try. 

It went on for a few months with some bumps along the way. An occasional fight or two that ended up with both parties apologizing and making love till the sun came up. Neither one had said the dreaded words I love you yet, as they were both afraid of the other's reaction. Everything came to a head one day though after a scouting trip went horribly wrong. You had been ordered to go out with a scouting party to investigate a fire off in the distance. Joel had begged you not to go and to stay with him. He had been on the mend after spraining his ankle, tripping over Ellie’s jacket that she left on the floor one night. You told him that you needed to go. Tommy had given you an order and you had to follow it. That led to the mother of all fights and you ended up storming out telling Joel you didn’t think this relationship thing would work out. The next time he saw you, you were being carried to the infirmary after being shot twice. It turns out the fire ended up being a trap by a group of raiders looking to make trouble. No one could stop Joel as he forced his way into your hospital room crying that he loved you and that he was sorry for fighting with you. You ended up surviving of course but it was a long road to recovery and Joel was there with you every step of the way. Giving you all the love and attention you needed.

As you stood there reminiscing, a flash of light followed by a loud clap of thunder was enough to bring you out of your thoughts. Quickly heading downstairs, you grabbed your glass of water before making your way back upstairs to your room as the storm finally made its way into Jackson. 

Getting gently back into bed being careful to not to wake Joel, your now husband of over a year, another clap of thunder rocked your house. This one was loud enough to stir him. You could hear small whimpers coming his mouth and the bed sheets that covered his naked body started to move. Looking over, you could see sweat start to form above his brow and the whimpering started to get louder. It was obvious he was having a nightmare. You became torn with waking him or just letting it play out. However the decision was made for you when another clap of thunder came from above causing Joel to jolt up.

“Sarah!” he shouted in a painful scream as he jumped up fully awake. You watch as he tries to get his bearings and figure out where he was. After a moment or two with his chest gasping for air, he turned to look at you, “What…what happened?”

“You were having a nightmare baby,” you console him, sitting up and running your hand up and down his naked back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Joel looked down in shame and shook his head. You knew Sarah was still a touchy subject for him. Even after all these years and now married, she was something that Joel rarely talked about. You didn’t mind though and you didn’t push. You knew what happened to her and how tragic it was, but other than that, she was off limits. Sarah was Joel’s business and his alone. You knew when the timing was right, Joel would tell you everything about her. Until then, you were here for him anyway you could be.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep or do you want to go sit by the fire? It’s still dark out,” you ask him, placing a kiss on his shoulder.

“I jus wanna lay here, but do…do you think…nevermind.”

You sat up a little bit more, this time wrapping your arms around his midsection, resting your cheek on his broad back, “What is it Joel? You know you can ask me anything baby.”

He turned to look at you with tears filling his chocolate colored eyes, “Do you think you can hold me? I don’t think I can go back to sleep without it.”

“Of course baby, you never have to ask me. Lay back down and I’ll do my best,” you tell him as you usher him back to bed.

With Joel on his side, you maneuver behind him wrapping one arm around him, while the other folds behind your head, “Is this good?” He nodded and took your hand, intertwining his with yours. 

As you lay there, you listened to the rain that was pouring down now. Joel’s breath had returned to normal and you thought the rain had lulled him to sleep. However out of nowhere, he let out a chuckle. “What is it?” you ask.

“He’s kicking me,” he chuckles once again, feeling tiny thumps against his back.

You look down at your growing belly that was nestled between you, “It’s because he knows his daddy needs him. He doesn’t like seeing his daddy upset.”

Joel rolled over to look at you and placed his hands on your belly, “It’s okay little guy. Daddy just had a nightmare about your sister. She would have loved you.”

“Joel you don’t…”

“No it’s okay,” he interrupts, “He needs to know about her. I want both of you to know her. I just…I just need more time. Be patient with me.”

You take his hand from your belly and bring it up to your lips, giving it a gentle kiss, “We are here for you. We love you and will always be here for you.”

He gave you his signature smirk, the one where his dimple showed. The one you hoped that your son would inherit. “I love you too darlin. You, Ellie and mini me are my entire world. Thank you for choosing and having me.”

“The pleasure is all mine Mr. Miller. Now roll back over. Momma needs her sleep and you know Ellie is bound to come running in here the first thing in the morning. You know how much she loves the rain.”

“Yes ma’am! Just watch my back kiddo. Daddy has a bad back and is getting old,” he smirked one last time before leaning down to give you and your belly a kiss before rolling over. 

You once again wrap your arms around him and pull him as tight as you could, before letting out a peaceful sigh. The rain at this point has calmed and the thunder is no more. It wasn’t long before you both found sleep again. This was all you needed, just Ellie and your boys all nestled in bed, safe and sound and loved in this apocalyptic filled world. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #pedro x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff

[bamdelune]

sickly dan heng x reader fluff drabble

notes: not proofread, just fluff in general, might be a little ooc dan heng because this is my first hsr work

A series of knocks echoed through the archive room where a sickly Dan Heng laid as a virus threw punches at his body.

The Nameless had begun an expedition on a new planet where a Stellaron had been found. This time the planet’s climate was not-so-pleasant (read: never-ending thunderstorms) and Dan Heng had initially warned you to bring an umbrella.

Did you listen?

Of course not!

“We’ll manage, love. I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

You thought you would be able to manage because the towns were filled with roofs anyway but little did you know that little could be done to avoid the harsh rain and thus, finding out that the thunderstorms continued inside the numerous establishments of the city.

That day, you were the subject of a handful of unamused stares of “I-told-you-so” from your boyfriend.

✦

Here you stood in front of his room with a tray in your hands, standing in a certain guilt. Lucky for you, your immune system had the balls to fight the cold that was creeping up on you whereas Dan Heng’s… not so much.

You slide the door open with your foot to create a space for your head to poke through.

“Hey, bud. You alright in there?” You ask sheepishly with an awkward chuckle.

With all the energy Dan Heng could muster, he shoots you a weak glare. If looks could kill, you might as well been buried way underground already by the time he makes eye contact with you. You sigh with a nod. “Right, right.” You then push the door open to give way for your body to come in.

You set the tray down on a free space on top of one of the shelves, praying to any entity above that it won’t drop as you tended to your boyfriend as it was halfway off the shelf.

“Sit up for me, please?” you say, kneeling down to his level on the floor, your hand finding a way to press on his back to support him. He grunts tiredly, shifting some of his weight onto your palm and sits upright. Dan Heng then leans against a shelf with a huff.

You shuffle over to where the tray was whilst on your knees and come back to Dan Heng’s side, placing the tray down on the free space on the floor.

“What’s that?” Dan Heng asks softly, prompting a soft sneeze from him right after. His face was mostly pale with pink blooming particularly on his nose. His voice was a subtly scratchy. You assume that he has a mild case of a sore throat as well from his cold.

You pick up a bowl, its evaporating steam following in a trail of movement. You gently spoon through the liquid to cool it down a little. “Porridge. Not the usual one you like though since Pom Pom said it apparently ran out so I had to manage.”

You catch an uncertain look on Dan Heng’s face and pout slightly, “Do you not trust my cooking?” You jest, feigning hurt.

“I trust that you wouldn’t want my reply on that, darling.” He coughs, turning his head to the side to avoid coughing in your direction. "In fact, I'm not sure I trust your judgement."

“You wound me."

He sends you another look,

"I'm sorry, I'll listen to you next time." You exhale in defeat.

“Hm.”

You scoop some of the porridge onto the spoon as you bring it to close to your lips, blowing on it gently before you move it near Dan Heng’s.

“Open,” you nudge the spoon slightly to prod his mouth open.

Dan Heng follows with no reluctance when he feels the metal of the spoon on his lips, gulping down the warm porridge down his throat.

You take the spoon out of his mouth and settle it in the bowl, before looking back at him with hopeful eyes. “Is it good?”

Dan Heng nods, sniffling his nose afterwards.

You feed him the porridge until it’s almost finished, setting the bowl on the tray again after it has cooled down.

“Himeko told you to drink this after eating.” You hand him a tablet of medicine packaged securely in a tin packaging. He examines the label before picking the area around the medicine with his nails to take it out. Your hands reach for the glass of water and wait for him to pop the tablet in his mouth before giving it to him.

Once he finishes drinking, he returns the glass to the tray and sighs with relief and slumps down back into the duvet covers. You bend over to tuck him in properly and place a gentle peck on his lips.

“Don’t do that, you’ll get sick.” He mutters with a pout before clearing his throat.

You chuckle quietly at your boyfriend’s words before placing another one on his cheeks.

“Trust me, I won’t. Now get some rest.” You say as you pick up the tray and dim the lights of the archive room when you leave.

Suffice to say you spoke too soon when you wake up two days later with the same cold, earning you another “I told you so” from Dan Heng. But despite his words, the man is eager to take care of you just as you did.

© bamdelune may 2023. do not repost or plagiarize any of my works, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

(masterlist)

#bamdelune #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader

[beesandhoney1219]

TW: Death, Blood, Murder, Assassination. My interpretation of Riju’s mother’s death :) /

Riju was only a little girl when her mother died. Her memory was fuzzy, but she could still picture the moments before her death crystal clear.

Like most little kids, Riju had a fight with her mother. It was something so trivial that the reason was completely gone from her memory.

But she remembered storming into the desert, her sneakers leaving deep marks into the sand, as she muttered and groveled under her breath. Waving her hands around frantically.

Riju didn’t mean to get lost that day. She was still young, and didn’t know the desert like she does now. It all looked the same to her back then. Big, sandy hills and hot wind that whipped at her cheeks.

By the time she realized that she was lost, the sun had set and the cold was creeping in. She looked around, confused, feeling tears weld up in her eyes. All she saw was yellow and orange, and the endless sea of sand.

“Mama?”

Her words were hoarse, on the verge of breaking, as her bottom lip began to quiver.

“Mama?”

She repeated, louder this time. But all she received was dead silence.

Until she heard the sound of chuckling behind her.

The girl wiped around, coming face-to-face with a group of Yiga Clan members. Riju didn’t know who the Yiga Clan were back then. To her, they were just scary masked people.

To them, she was a highly valuable asset. But it was up to their leader to decide if she would die, or be used as a hostage. But they needed to get her to the hideout first.

A gloved hand as big as Riju’s entire arm reached down to grab the small child, and she let out a loud scream.

The scream was enough to cause the group to shrink back and cover their ears, but only for a moment. The girl didn’t wait any more time, and spun on her heels, running in a random direction.

She screamed, sobbed, begged for help.

“Mama!! Mama!!!”

She wailed, her vision becoming blurry. Her legs ached but she didn’t stop running. In the distance, she could see small flames dotting across the horizon. Torches?

With no other choice, she ran towards them.

“Mama! Mama!!”

She screeched, coughing and choking on sand as the flames grew bigger and bigger. Until she could finally see who was holding them.

It was a group of Gerudo guards and her mother, the leader of the town. She looked beyond herself in worry, but she turned around so fast when she heard Riju’s voice, that she almost hit a guard with one of the torches.

“Riju!”

She ran towards her daughter, relieved, but it quickly turned to horror. Riju could see the guards running right behind her, shouting, waving their weapons.

But the child didn’t understand. Why were they telling her to run?

The leader could see what Riju couldn’t. A Yiga bowman, who had just released an arrow, aiming right at her precious daughter.

They weren’t going to make it on time. The arrow wasn’t going to be stopped.

Unless…

Without a second thought, the woman threw herself at her young daughter, grabbing her in her arms and twisting their bodies.

The arrow entered a lung, but not the lung of the target.

The two bodies crashed to the ground as the guards formed a protective circle around them.

Riju was confused. When she looked down at her hands, she noticed red. Paint? Why did her mother have paint? The woman gasped, finding breathing suddenly ten times more difficult. But that didn’t matter. She saved her daughter. She saved Riju.

She cupped the girl’s face in her hands, wiping tears and sand off her skin.

“Riju…”

She croaked.

“My little thunderstorm. I’m…so sorry that I yelled at you. I’m so sorry that we couldn’t find you earlier.”

A tear of her own traced down her cheek as she stared into her daughter’s big eyes.

“I’m so *proud* of you, vehvi. You’re going to be a great leader for our people. I’m…sorry I won’t be there to witness it.”

“Mama?”

“I love you, Riju. And I’m…sorry…”

With a thud, the woman collapsed, still. The guards began shouting in concern, shaking her. One, Buliara, scooped up the shaken Riju in her arms and ran back towards town.

“I’m so sorry Riju. I’m so so sorry.”

#botw #breath of the wild #linked universe #tears of the kingdom #legend of zelda #link #ravio #zelda #botw link #hyrule #totk #the legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #riju #totk riju #botw riju #gerudo #gerudo town #lady urbosa #lu wild #linked universe wild #totk sages #wild linked universe #princess zelda #prince sidon

[roguetonorth]

More of us

Gif by: @cowboydin

pairing: din djarin x reader

warnings: angst n' yearning, descriptions of injuries, fluff and soft!din <333

summary: they say home is where the heart is— and in a stormy dusk, you learn that the mandalorian's heart belongs with yours.

word count: 4.571k 

a/n: life's been weird lately and my writing consistency has become nonexistent, i have no idea what this is.

• masterlist • send me a request! •

You had made a deal. 

Din would be gone to try to fix what he unintentionally had done. Things were calmer now, though more complicated. His new ship was good, but it barely fit himself. The empire wasn’t after him anymore, but now he was rightful to the throne of mandalore. He had gone through more changes since he found you and grogu than he had in his whole life. The tides were changing greatly and quickly.

You, though, had promised him peace, consistency, and security. The way you found to do just that was not of your liking and certainly not like what life had put you through for so long, but it was working for the both of you right now. And though Din reassured you that there was nothing he was more fond of than having you by his side no matter what, you both had made promises to each other. You had promised to stay put, safe and alive. Din had promised to come back to you; no matter what, no matter when, no matter how. 

And Din was one to keep his promises.

Yet, there had been a while you didn’t see him.

It had been rotations, maybe moons, you weren’t sure. The planet you had settled in was beautiful, hardly populous and anywhere your sight landed in, it was subdued with dark tones of green of its forests. The cottage you had gotten yourself there was modest, the classic type of thing expected to be found in the middle of nowhere. It was a good distraction to do whatever daily tasks you could, getting temporary jobs in the nearest town once in a while, learning new things, just keep things going.

Here, sitting on the trunk that had fallen over part of your little garden, every day felt longer and longer than the previous one. At first, when you arrived, you thought it would be good to finally stay put— achieve your dream of finally staying, living somewhere. But as the days and nights in this calm and lonely place went by, you could all but realize that your only dream had always been only Din. Despite time seeming to carry on to you slowly as the waters of the lake near your cottage, no matter how far and unknown were the stars Din laid down under, you hoped time passed differently for him.

And hoped for your mandalorian’s return you did. 

You knew that, as soon as he could, Din would come right back to you. He promised you he would, that it was going to be alright. And you believed him with the same faith you believed the dawn would come. But at every dusk, as you watched the clouds cloak the setting suns, all you could do was stare at the horizon —alone and in sickening silence— and hope once again, that you’d hear the whirring of his starfighter above the tall trees. Hoping you’d see Din coming back home. 

The solace you had were his words, his trust, and the promise that he’d be with you again. 

Soon. Eventually. One day. 

And as the life you once dreamt of turned into almost some kind of prison, you tried to convince yourself that those promises were enough. That the now seeming distant promise of Din was enough. As you watched the cold breeze and darkness take over the afterglow of another sunset fade behind the heavy and dark thundering clouds, the thoughts of din were momentarily pulled out of your mind. Pouring rain compelled you to force yourself to rise up from your place and gather the freshly chopped firewoods inside. By the time everything was set for the night, the pouring rain had turned into a thunderstorm.

As you listened to the lullaby of water hitting the ground your mind drifted again to where your heart had been. With din. You wondered about how he was, not just physically. Was he getting enough sleep or was he just as restless as he’d been while he was with you? You wondered that If half a galaxy away, he was giving himself time. You were ready to drop everything at any moment just to know if he was okay instead of keep hopelessly wishing on it. 

 Laying on your back, you dropped your arm around your head, staring through the skylight in the ceiling. You tossed and turned in the bed you had got to share with din for much less than you’d like to before he left. To make the hole in your heart his absence caused feel shallower, you imagined once again the whirring of his ship zooming beyond the window louder than it sounded in your memory, hoping it would lull you to sleep. 

But then, the noise shifted. The source of it seems now rather nearby and your eyes shot open. You frowned, fighting the smile the renewed hope it lit within you. It could be him. It could only be him. Though your mind fought the relieved happiness that started to spread through your features for the sake of avoiding disappointment, your body jumped out of your bed and ran to the front door, not caring about the cold of the rain soaked wood of the porch crepting to your bare feet. 

And your hopes crept to you as it kept you standing by the door, looking out to the dark path that came from the woods. Your fingers taped nervously against your thigh — something you had unconsciously started doing some time after you realized din used to. — and you waited. You were almost sure it was him. But not completely. The rain turned severe and thunders rolled over, and you started to brace yourself for another disgruntled and dinless night. 

Yet, your eyes never strayed from the little dirt path.

As a strong lighting enlightened the sky, you shuddered, like you always did when your gaze landed on him. And there he was, your mandalorian, making his way through the woods with drops of water running down his armor, reflecting brightly the hue of the stormy sky. Just as the first time you saw him, he was quite a sight. But more than that, you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt such joy. 

He walked in long but slow strides, and without getting to contain yourself you ran in his direction to meet him halfway.  You practically fell against him, the man having to step back a little to keep you both from falling all the way into the ground. His arms encircled your form in a tired yet just as affectionate motion, the piercing cold of beskar nothing compared to the warmth his presence burnt you with. “You're back.” You smile, your voice weak and muffled by the fabric of his cowl as you hang onto him tightly as if he could slip away from your arms at any moment. Since you met him it had been the greatest of your worries. When he was away you worried for him, and when he was near you worried about him too. But right now, you collapsed onto din, letting yourself absorb the moment you had longed for. 

He was finally back, holding you dearly, letting you know he was there. And though you knew he could leave soon, you didn’t fight the dazzling calm you felt upon his return. One of your hands made its way to the edge of his helm to have him facing you at a proper angle. Tears threatened to run down your cheeks along with the drops of the continuous rain as you smiled for him instead, a smile of relief from the pain his absence made you ache with, “I missed you, you stupid mandalorian.”

He smiled wider for you, though all you could catch was a pleased sigh that escaped his modulator prior to the words he whispered back, “I missed you, too, cyare.”

Din holds you, as if rain wasn’t soaking the both of you to the bone and as if nothing in the galaxy was real but you. You, you, you. Your laugh, your voice, your way to do things, your never ending care for him. He had missed, longed for you. All of the straining nights and battle-occupied tainting days he spent away from you, second guessing himself over and over; and over were these days were he in control of it all. Did he like to admit it or not, he felt weak without you. 

He rested the chin of his helmet gently upon your head, his grasp was as strong as his weary state allowed. You held him back just as heartfeltly, shifting one of your arms from around his neck to hold his waist closer. He shifted, letting out a tiny pained groan upon the action, which he quickly tried to conceal from you out of habit. 

You were pulled out from your moment of boon, suddenly hyper aware of every pant he let out, “What 's wrong?” You parted from him in concern, scanning down his torso as much as you could see given to the situation. You eyed his side, where your arm had been, noticing part of his flight suit was wet and stained evidently from more than just rain. “Din, are you bleeding?”

“Maybe.” he puffed.

“Din…” You sighed, shaking your head before moving to get a better look at him, chasing his hidden eyes with yours. Drops of rain dripped down from his visor to his cowl and it made you smile again, before you remembered he was injured and you were set to find out just how badly. “We need to get you inside.” You called up, one of your arms leaving him as his hand grasped your forearm tightly, desperately trying to keep you close to him, “I'm not gonna let go of you, okay? C'mon, let's get you warm again.”

You positioned yourself beside him, ignoring the fact he had been walking on his own minutes ago, one arm under his and around his torso, taking as much of his weight as he allowed you to. You aided him through the stairway of the porch and then to your bed, supporting him again as he sat on the edge of it with slight struggle. As he let his back rest against the wall, you inspected him again, searching for any signs of injuries you hadn't got to see and knew he wouldn't mention under the lamp’s golden light. 

But he looked okay though. His shoulders were slightly slumped in, from the cold possibly. Through his partially soaked flight suit, you noticed the rest of his muscles relaxing as he let his hands rest on his lap. His visor faced you, but you weren’t sure his eyes were open. As your body adjusted back to the warm temperature of the cottage, you sat in front of him, the tip of his socked toe touching your leg, his boots discarded at some point. Din carried the typical smell of blaster smoke, now wearing out by the scent of rain and grass. 

Your heart ran faster as you took in the sight of him right there— the fact that he was back finally sinking in. The idea of parting from him for any longer than you already had even if it for the shortest of the seconds was absolutely awful for the both of you. Your gaze held his for a while, longer than you meant to, as you tried to gain courage to force yourself to get up. 

“Your bed's gonna get dirty.” Din blurted out, his gaze straying from yours to inspect the light fabric covering the bed. You chuckled at him, being the most din he could be. Innocently worried about the state of your bed when he himself was bleeding out. Oh had you missed him.

“The bed's going to be okay.” You couldn't help smiling reassuringly at him before speaking again, the little light hearted moment he’d just provided you with was enough to give you strength to get up, knowing he would be right there when you came back. “I have to go get the medpac.”

Din offered you a nod, observing his surroundings as you disappeared into another room. He casted his gaze to some furniture, the majority of them weren’t there when he left. All of them made out of local woods and metal. A particular piece drew his attention, a wooden wardrobe set opposite to the bed, which was also new. He wondered about how you’d brought it to the cottage, how you had set it up together. Had you paid someone to do so or had you gained favors from your friends in town? Though you avoided befriending too many people, you had likely made friends. People were attracted to you, like suns attract planets and keep them around with such force. He himself had been a victim of said talent of yours. As you appeared back into the room with the medpac in hands and kneeled by his side, he confirmed to himself that he was nothing but glad.

You set the materials you’d need on the bed near you as you looked up at him, silently asking for permission to lift his shirt just enough to gain access to the wound. He nodded, moving his arm out of the way to support it lightly on your shoulder. You watched him,  trying to ignore the butterflies swirling your stomach upside down upon the action while looking for any signs of discomfort as you lifted the fabric carefully off his skin, grimacing at the sight of the fiery red gash you were met with. You kept your focus on the task at hand as you started cleaning the injury as gingerly as you could, stifling your gaze from trailing up further than it should. 

Of course you had been in this position before. Cleaning and patching din’s wounds whenever he came back from a rough hunt, which was much more often than you’d like to. But when you were done with said work and made sure he was completely alright, you had to admit you enjoyed it. The closeness you shared whenever you took care of him that way, the vulnerability of it all made your heart flutter for longer than what you could keep track of. But now, you could tell something was different. Din was different. Though you couldn't quite name it yet. 

The both of you stayed silent while you worked on him, deep lost in the thought of each other, way too discouraged to voice it out loud. You glanced up at him as you finished cleaning the wound, which clearly had been a vibroblade slash, “It's not that deep. We've been through worse.” You offer him a pained smile as you reach for the materials you’ll need to actually patch him up.

He tilts his head in acknowledgement, dropping it to rest against the wall. You move to get the work done quickly to free him from the distress, patching him up thoroughly, skill you had gained having to tend to him constantly. His hand on your back tightening itself in a fist whenever it started to sting as he clenched his jaw under the helmet. 

You continued your work, stitching the wound, occasionally stealing glances at him when his skin flinches away from your hands.

“I'm sorry.” din sighs, tilting his helmet down in your direction, his tone loud enough to catch your attention but not to cause you to look away from what you were doing. 

Your brows furrow as you shake your head at his self conscious tone, giving his knee a quick reassuring squeeze, “It’s okay, I know it hurts.” 

“No,” He huffs, half a sigh and half a strained cuckle. “Not for that.”

You don’t look up at him while you set the used materials beside you as his visor watches you intently, “Then what for, love?” you ask mindlessly, starting to cover your work with a bacta patch.  

Din feels his heart leap to his throat upon the realization of what you just called him. You called him love. And you did it so naturally. His breath hitches as you chase his visor with a soft look of your own, encouraging him to speak. He stumbles over his thoughts, the sudden raised emotions causing him to get the words out somewhat rushed and bashfully, “I- shouldn't have taken so long. I couldn't send you transmissions,—”

His voice trails off momentarily, and you take the opportunity to shush him to calm again, “Hey, hey. It's okay,” you pause, studying his chest plate steady itself as you gain the boldness to run a hand soothingly on his uninjured side. “You're here now and that's all that matters.” 

A warm fire burns brighter in his chest as he watches your focus turn back to your work as you finish covering the stitches with bacta, then securing it safe with a thin layer of gauze with gentle hands. “Now we just gotta leave this here. But try not to move much.”

Din considers your words briefly before nodding at your suggestion. 

You start gathering everything you used to patch him up from the floor by your side to wrap them up in a towel to avoid a bigger mess. Din stares at you while you do so, even as you discard said stuff in the sink near the fresher’.You knew you looked, at most, awkward. His gaze burnt through you as you returned to the place you’d been before you tended to him. You stare back at Din, wishing your eyes could say as much as your heart wanted him to know. 

He had been gone for so long you’d thought you had forgotten how calm he could get you. Of course you knew that the life the both of you had lived was hard to leave behind and that in such an endangered galaxy, you could hardly do so. But Din was like a haze over all that. 

Seeing the way you watch him, looking for any other way he may need help in the way he always did for you, his chest aches with the urge to lay himself bare of his walls and say or do something. He opens his mouth then closes as the right words escape him, his chest stalling as your eyes find his own. 

His visor avoids you as he speaks next, his voice sparking his uneasiness, "I should get changed.”

You nod at him with a fond smile that hides the slight disappointment upon the knowledge your mandalorian didn’t need you anymore. Rising from your place you offer him your hand as support to help him get up. You stand one step away from him, his leather-covered fist holding on to yours heavily for seconds longer than necessary. You don’t move your hand away from his, instead biting your lip nervously as you stare up at him,“Do you need help?” 

A deep hue of red flushes across his cheeks as the image of you helping him get rid of his layers forays his judgments, “No, I uh… ‘can manage.” 

You draw in a breath and din stops by you, his beskar-covered shoulder touching yours as he towers over you. For anyone else, the vision of the though visor staring down that way would have been the most intimidating sight they’d see. For you though, it looked like nothing but home. The vague feeling that the eyes staring at you behind the darkness looked lovely. Din touches his helmet to the side of your head tenderly and you feel your heart jump then hollow at the action— his way of saying ‘thank you’ without a word. 

Rarely did you need words with him. 

So that, though Din hadn’t said anything, you knew he didn’t have anything to change onto as you observed he hadn't brought barely anything with him besides his weaponry. But you had taken care of that, long ago. You look through your things in the drawer for a specific pair of sweats; they were of dark green that reminded you of his cape, the fabric much more comfortable than what he usually wore. You had gotten him some stuff while he was away hoping it would help you deal with his absence. You place the clothing near the fresher’ door without saying anything. 

By the time he returns, all he wears was what you had given to him along with the helmet. The sleeves of the green sweater rolled up to his elbows. He takes cautious steps towards you and you scoot over to make space for him on top of your bed. You watch him as he takes your silent offer, sitting by your side, his bare hands tightening and loosening itself as he keeps looking away from you. 

A furrow crosses your features as you wait patiently for his helmet to turn back at you with a slight tilt.  A smile replaces your worried features and you tilt your head back at him as you decide to speak, your voice quiet as you catch his attention, “How have you been?”

Din shrugs, a hint of not so sincere humor in his tone, “Alive.” You give him a serious look to get to him to be honest, and he releases a breath. “It 's been hard… without you.” 

“I could say the same thing,” You relax, warmth taking over your chest upon his sincerity as you scoot closer to him, “But I'm always here, you know.”

Din nods, a sweet grin appearing then vanishing quickly from his face beneath the beskar, “I know. It's the only thing I still believe in.” 

You hold your breath, confusion striking through you while you swallow hard, your gaze locked on him with a curious yet nervous glint. “Me?”

There is a pause before he speaks, his chest rising then falling again as the small word comes out heavy as a lump. “Us.” 

Your gaze softens even more at him, your own feelings starting to overcome your senses and you try to push them down, moving even closer to him to focus completely on Din. You’re so close to him now that you can see his breath fogging the lower part of his visor. 

“There’s always going to be us, Din.” Your voice is filled with honesty and affection as you fight the urge to lift your hand to touch his beskar cheek. 

“But I,” Din pauses, his heart racing so loudly in his chest he can barely hear his thoughts. “I want more— Of us.”

Your chest heaves, his meaningful yet dizzying words making you freeze. You'd expect him to say anything but this. The overwhelming feelings you forced yourself to push down every time you saw din bubbling up to the surface altogether as it threatened to somehow burst inside you. “How so?” 

Anxiety builds inside of you as you study him as the question sits heavily in the silence. Din’s helmet tilts almost shyly as if he was scared of what he was signing up for. 

It takes Din all of his faith and strength to voice the feelings he hid from you for so long that it catches in his throat. His uneasy hands shake as much as his voice. “I hate waking up and not having you with me.” He exhales, his voice dull due the modulator yet dripping emotion as he takes another slow, shaky breath, forcing the tight words out through his throat. “I hate when I can’t sleep because you’re not there. And I hate when I can’t have you, not even in my dreams.” 

You about melt away at his confession.

An empathetic frown strikes through your features followed by a comforting smile and you lift your hand to stroke his unclothed neck before you could even think about stopping yourself.  Your heart races as din’s steady breaths work to shush your wishful thoughts upon his words.

Din covers your hand with his then lets it fall to an eager, tight hold of your wrist, “I'm done with doing nothing right, cyar’ika.” His voice is crumbled and hushed as he lifts a hand to brush against your cheek, “Please, let me do this right.”

You shift on your weight and you move closer to him, hesitating even as you let the side of your crossed leg drop over his. You search for a glimpse of his eyes with a look as soft as your voice, “Don’t say that. You’ve done nothing wrong.” You give his fingers a gentle squeeze and he secures your hand in his, running his leather-free thumb across your wrist. “You don’t know how many times I've regretted telling you I would be fine on my own when you left. I should have told you,” You keep your words and actions slow as you urge him to stay close. “Nothing feels right without you.” 

Din’s heart shudders when you embrace him. His eyes fall shut as he absorbs the warmth you provided him with —both emotionally and physically— without the barrier of his beskar. Your hand rests on the back of his neck while he holds onto you, the brown curly strands of hair that escaped from the base of his helm peeking between your fingers as he leaned into you.

Listening to the beat of his heart sync with yours, he slides his arms down your back to keep you close. “We’re alright.” You beam, his helmet draping heavily on the crook of your neck as you hold him close like you had always wanted to. 

When you pull away it’s Din who starts the movement and he does so hesitantly. Even through his visor you can sense his eyes cast yours with longing and a hint of pain, as if only the thought of it was enough to make him hurt. “I don’t think I can leave again.” 

"It 's okay.” You tell him, caressing his wrist and hoping your touch would soothe him away from wherever his thoughts were leading him. “Whatever it is that you want, I'll always follow you, wherever you go. Or I can wait for you, no matter how long. I'm gonna be here.” 

There’s a moment after he drops his beskar forehead to touch yours, but this time Din doesn’t hesitate to speak with full honesty. “My heart’s always with you.” 

You smile and close your eyes, the truth in your voice matching his.  “Then I'm always going to be with you, Din. Through the furthest of the parsecs, with you.”  

Din looks up, tilting his helmet up slightly as his visor brushes against your nose. “Even if we’re apart?”

You squeeze his hand, lifting it to your lips to press a gentle kiss upon his knuckles as you offer him your answer. “Even then.”

“Okay.” Din utters back, the word small and contended as for the first time ever, he doesn’t fight the urge to embrace you tightly.

You bask in each other’s arms, for a long moment and no time at all— knowing that no matter how difficult things were or could be, no matter how unknown and opaque the stars you laid beneath were, as long as you had each other, you’d always find home. 

Taglist: @girlofchaos

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#din using pretty words??? #has me in my soup of feelings #babi #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #star wars #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader fluff #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

[whumping-valentine]

Continuation of that short Sailor Whumpee Lighthouse Keeper Whumper thing I wrote last month. Will tag as "Sailor Whumpee" Also I guess Whumpee is trans and uses he/they pronouns.

"The Docks aren't the friendliest of places, you know." The Lighthouse keeper warned the sailor about to leave. It was the day after their shipwreck, and out of all the many sea travelers he's seen, never has the old keeper encountered one quite like this. Already so eager to leave despite their condition.

Whumpee stopped in their tracks, hand on the cold iron doorknob. They turned around, "What do you mean by that?"

"What else is there to mean? The pirates in town are rough and tumble, and I'm just not so sure they'll take too kindly to the bruised, washed-up sailor." Whumper closed their eyes, taking a slow sip of their tea. "Mm. Besides, they all know about you. The Boy in the Boat, they called you. Found your little pathetic board smashed out on the rocks. Not much of a boat now, is it?"

"So you pull me in off the shores just to insult me?"

"Yeah, pretty much." A sly smile appeared on Whumper's face. "People often find my hospitality comes with a price. But hey! I pulled you off the shores, bandaged your wounds, and gave you a place to stay. Though I know sailors don't take too kindly to badmouthing their ships— even if she is nothing more than plywood now."

Whumpee rolled their eyes, "Well, thanks for saving me, but our short paths end here. You can quit your yapping."

"Farewell. But there is one thing you should know—"

Whumpee opened the door, and was greeted to a horrendous downpour, and a perfect strike of lightning.

Whumper smiled, "Welcome to The Docks!"

~~~ Continued ↓ ~~~

Whumper was surprised when Whumpee actually went out into the storm, with no hesitation, at that. Suppose that kind of stupidity is exactly what got them crashed here in the first place. It didn't matter, though. They'll be back, and they'll have questions. It was only a matter of time.

Whumpee was never one to care of storms. He'd sit in the mud during a downpour, run across the beaches in a hurricane, and hoist his sails in a thunderstorm. He lived for the clouds, the sea, and the storms. People called him crazy and reckless, but he would never see it that way. After all, he always said:

If you don't die on a boat in the middle of a thunderstorm, did you ever truly live?

He made his way off the rocky shores of the Lighthouse, despite the crashing waves hitting his feet. They knocked him over quite a few times, but a face full a' sea water n' a rock jammed in his side wasn't any new feat. Most people might find the sand up the nose and wet clothes to be uncomfortable, but for Whumpee it was just another part of life, and they tried to enjoy all of them. Even in the unpleasantries there is something to be experienced.

That experience was life itself. It was something to be cherished. Every shipwreck, every storm, every literal rock in the side, it was life. Even death was just another part of it, albeit the end.

He stepped off the rocks and onto the docks. Ships swayed in the violent rain, hitting loudly off them. He walked down them and into the coastal town, simply referred to as "The Docks" as a whole. They weren't too sure what time it was, as the clouds were just that thick, but they reckoned it had to've been midday.

The town was as rough and tumble as they came, more so than Whumpee had seen, and they'd sailed all over the world. What I meant by that is it looked like it was out of some nautical maritime fairytale. A cluttered, disheveled, seaside town, but it was medieval, too. Old timey, 15th century, and— did that Lighthouse keeper mention pirates earlier?

Sure, they're still around, they've ran into a few, but to so casually mention them like that seemed strange. Then again, they were also talking about mermaids sinking ships, so maybe the lonesome old keeper was just crazy and full of shit. Still, with curiosity at its peak, they walked down the cozy wet cobblestone streets.

Though the rain was loud and rough, they could hear the lively chatter inside the old buildings. The sound of clanking glasses, laughter, dancing, and old-timey sea shanty music boomed inside the large tavern building. The widows were open holes in the wall, covered by planks that could swing open.

Whumpee pulled opened the tavern window, and an olive skinned woman happened to be standing right against it.

"Oh, hi, sorry." Whumpee said.

"It ain't be a bother." Said the woman, a piratey accent to her voice. She took a sip of the beverage in her hand, "Mm. Besides, the air be nice, it's stuffy in this ol' place. Name's Caretaker."

"Whumpee."

"Charmed." She said, doing a raise of her glass before taking another sip, "What bring ya peerin' into taverns?"

"Just walking around, getting acquainted."

She chuckled, "Durin' a storm? You're quite the adventurous one."

"I was born out at sea, I wouldn't be me if I wasn't." He said, hoisting himself to sit on the windowsill, getting out of the rain. "There ain't a better time to get out into the open air than during a thunderstorm."

"Ain't ya frightened by it?"

"It's about risk vs. reward. Is the risk of dying out at sea greater than simply being out at sea? Is the threat of getting struck by lightning worse than the experience of being out in a thunderstorm? Does the thought of getting sick outweigh the positives of being one with nature? The answer is no, to me at least. Like, I'd much rather die in a shipwreck than of a heart attack in some dumb suburban house, you know?"

"Can't say I do, but I respect your enthusiasm."

"That's more than most people. I just really love life, and that includes all the bad things that come with it. I've gotta admit, I love me a good shipwreck."

"Oh, are you the new boat boy who crashed on the bay last week?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm surprised people know about me already."

"In a town like this, word tends to spread fast. Ain't much goin' on. How'd the grumpy ol' keeper treat you?"

"Well, he was talkin' about merfolk and stuff."

"Ah, that old bastard is always so cryptic. He is one of the merfolk. Don't know why he does it, but I suppose it's just to scare any of the humans he gets."

Whumpee furrowed their brow in confusion.

"Oh, yeah, you're new, sorry. He's a human-trapper who works with the royals. Sometimes they end up crossing over, so it's his job to turn them in."

Whumpee was incredulous, "What are you talking about?"

"Hm? What d'ya mean?" She asked, brushing her long, dark, curly hair behind her ears, letting Whumpee see they were long and pointed. Whumpee nearly choked on air as their eyes widened and heartrate accelerated. Was... was this real?

"Hey, you alright?"

"Eh, I was... just in a crash the other day, ya know? Still a bit lightheaded and all that. I— I should get going. Nice talking!" He said, jumping down from the window, shutting it, and running off down the streets back to the shores.

He practically had to crawl through the sea across the stones to the Lighthouse, the waves that stong and harsh. He kicked open the door, dripping wet.

"Back so soon?" Whumper asked, but Whumpee only had one thing on their mind.

"You sunk my ship!" He slammed the door behind him, "Where am I? Who are you? How did I get here?"

Whumper smiled, still with his cup of tea that he sat down on the table. "Welcome to The Docks."

--- --- --- ---

Hey hoped you like this! It wasn't very whumpy, but I'm currently just fighting demons (writer's block) hoping they'll go away soon. I was sat out in a thunderstorm soaking wet and wrote this while waiting for round two so then I could go shower 😂

I wasn't intending on this being anything other than a one-off, but I love the rain and sea (if you couldn't tell) and when inspiration strikes, it strikes. I now plan on continuing this, as I have a few ideas, but I'm just kinda going with it. I don't have a plot or anything but I DO know that while Whumper may seem chill now he's going to be the absolute worst later. This confident, life-loving Whumpee is about to be crushed.

Also! Since I'm continuing this, I'd like to name them! Since I have literally, actually, 300+ named characters (I listed them) I'm kinda all named out. So I'd like some suggestions! Masc/neutral names for whumpee and whumper and fem/neutral for caretaker.

#sailor whumpee #whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #whump writing #my writing #whump things #ocean whump #writing

[the-ninjago-historian]

Fun Fact! Skylor has her own Spin-off Short Story!

It's called The Amber Spiral and as far as we know, it's canon! Here's the chapters. And also Tommy and the author's comments on it! It shows the history of the element of Amber and shows insight to Skylor's life! Very cool!

(P.S. If you will be reading my fanseason Into The Deep, you might want to read this! Some of the stuff in this story will be referenced and/or used!)

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago lego #trivia #skylor chen #ninjago skylor #skylor ninjago #books #Ninjago Amber Spiral #tommy andreason #Ninjago: Into The Deep