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dramaticals · 6 months

Text

following instructions

pairing: theodore nott x gryffindor reader

summary: enemies with benefits with theo where they're constantly insulting each other but they still can't get enough. smut. au where characters at hogwarts are aged up to be 19+. mdni. / requested by anonymous.

author's note: co-wrote this with lily (@softeliza) <3 we honestly wrote this as a theo x hermione, but swapped hermione for reader

✧ read part two: following instructions (headcanons) ✧

Theo's judging eyes watch as you dice the sopophorous bean before tossing it into your cauldron, your gaze shifting between your opened textbook and your cauldron. A bead of sweat drips from your forehead. You were meticulously following the directions, and yet something still didn't seem right about your potion.

Theo scoffs, shaking his head. What an idiot, he thinks.

"You're supposed to crush it." Theo says, demonstrating pointedly with a silver dagger and popping the squashed bean into his own cauldron. The cauldron bubbles, and the liquid shifts a shade darker.

"You're supposed to follow the instructions, which clearly say to cut it," you say through gritted teeth.

Potions was the one class Theo never followed the directions for, and yet he always seemed to be doing significantly better than you. You hated that.

"You know," you add with a huff, annoyance laced in your words. "Just because you don't respect the rules any other time doesn't mean you shouldn't follow a simple recipe."

There was something about pissing you off that gave Theo the right amount of joy to get him through the day. Hearing you huff at his words was like finding a jelly slug in a mountain of acid pops. It was glorious.

"Do you believe everything you read?" Theo asks mockingly, his eyes unmoving from the cauldron in front of him. He doesn't know why he was helping you—this was meant to be a competition for the coveted felix felicis. Maybe it was because Theo knew you weren't going to listen to him anyway. "Besides, I respect the rules." Theo says, but even he can't keep a straight face at his claim, his lips tugging into a smirk.

"I believe everything I read in a textbook," you say, your eyes narrowing and your mouth falling open in shock. Was he serious? "You know, that book of words that literally outlines how to make the potion? How else would you know how to brew it?" You hope he doesn't notice the genuine curiosity in your question. You actually wanted to know how Theo knew what to do all the time. It was so infuriating.

"Natural intelligence and charm." Theo says coolly.

In actuality, Theo had managed to find a textbook filled with inscriptions, correcting the printed text with tips and tricks on how to brew a potion every time. But he wasn't going to tell you that. Theo would gladly and happily let you believe he was gifted.

Theo peeks at your cauldron and has to hold a snort back. It looked just about ready to implode.

"This is a simple recipe, huh?" Theo muses. "Is that why your potion looks and smells like absolute shit?"

"Maybe I just thought I'd throw you a scrap with this one. I mean, we both know you're in desperate need of some luck, especially on the Quidditch pitch. If anyone needs this win, it's you."

"Oh, so you watch me on the pitch, do you?" Theo says with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes. Curse him.

Theo stirs counterclockwise a few times and then once again clockwise. The potion bubbles again. This time, it shifts into its final colour form. Bingo.

Theo, with an expression beaming with pride, calls over Professor Slughorn to inspect the potion. You zero in on Theo's cauldron and let out a small sigh. You didn't need confirmation from Slughorn to know that Theo did it. That bloody asshole did it.

Slughorn tosses a single leaf into the cauldron. The leaf disintegrates, and Slughorn clasps his hands together and announces, "We have a winner! Class dismissed!"

As Theo receives congratulations from all around, you begin to tidy your workspace, empty your cauldron, and pack your things. Anger boils in your stomach. As much as you tried to avert your gaze from Theo, your eyes are drawn to the tiny vile Slughorn passes to Theo. With a triumphant smirk thrown your way, he tucks the potion into his pocket before cleaning his workspace.

"Try to use it for something other than trying to sleep with girls," you quip, clutching your books to your chest. The confident, holier-than-thou persona slips over you like a glove. It was a default shield whenever you felt threatened, especially academically. And Theo was often on the receiving end of it all. "I mean, I'm sure you could use some luck in that department, but I doubt that's what Zygmunt Budge had in mind."

"I'm doing quite well in that department, actually." Theo says. With looks and an attitude like his, girls were flocking to him like nifflers to gold. "Much like potions, really. They all just come to me."

Theo awaits your signature glare and snarky remark, but he was simply met with a silent shove to his shoulder as you headed to the door. His brows furrow, disappointed in the lack of repartee, before Theo's walking after you. He falls into step with you, following you through the dimly lit corridors of the dungeon.

"What's the rush, little lion? Can't stomach losing?"

"I'm not in a rush; I just don't want to be around you. Don't you have some dingy hole to crawl back into?" You fume, your grip on your textbooks tightens, and your pace quickens.

"You wound me." Theo simpers, clutching his chest in mock-hurt.

Being in Theo's presence was getting you more and more riled up. You felt like you were minutes away from becoming a human version of a Filibuster Firework. Theo loved when you got like this. He can't quite pinpoint the exact moment he realized why he liked seeing you so worked up, but he's quickly reminded by the staggered breathing and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Theo continues to stroll alongside you, an air of arrogance in each step he takes. You quickly realize you have no idea where you're headed. The echoing of both your steps, coupled with the hovering nuisance on your side, makes you let out a sharp, frustrated exhale. You turn to Theo, glaring daggers into his stormy eyes.

"Can you just go? You're so—ugh." You growl, unable to find the proper words.

Theo's brows perk upward. There's something familiar about the expression you give him. He'd seen it before. Last time he'd seen it, the two of you ended up christening the boy's change room after a Quidditch match—Slytherin should beat Gryffindor more often.

Before you can articulate your frustrations, Theo grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into a vacant classroom. The feeling of his fingers around your wrist sends a jolt of warmth straight through your body. Theo pins you against the door, your books falling to the floor with a sharp thud. He skillfully locks the door with a slight flick of his wand before muttering the muffliato charm and putting his wand away. Darkened eyes meet your gaze, a mixture of amusement and want in his eyes.

"I'm so what?" Theo demands. His hand caresses your cheek before roughly wrapping around the base of your throat. "Use your words."

Your mind goes hazy, as if you've been confunded, the moment you feel his hand on your throat. You'd never admit how much you loved when Theo did that.

With a shaky breath, you meet his intense gaze to say, "Infuriating."

The way you reacted to Theo's touch was unlike any other girl he had the pleasure of fucking at Hogwarts. You were just so obvious, and Theo had no shame in admitting that he found it all extremely arousing. Of course, your mouth would claim otherwise, but Theo always had a plan to occupy your pretty little mouth.

You bite down on your lip, stifling the whimper begging to escape. Your breathing is in sync with each other, and the sexual tension makes the air around you thick.

"Are you going to fix it? Or are you just going to stand there like an idiot?" You tempt, leaning up slightly, just to see if he'll close the gap between your lips and his.

"I don't know," Theo responds, keeping a fair distance—only enough for your lips to brush lightly against his. To keep you wanting. Theo leans into your neck, ghosting breathy, teasing kisses up until he's milimeters away from your ear. "Are you going to say please?"

"You've got to be kidding," you huff, shooting a glare at Theo as you try to keep your breathing steady.

You weren't exactly experienced, at least not like Theo. You had a few moments with others, but no one had ever gotten you to feel as good as Theo did. It enraged you that Theo knew how good he made you feel, but you also took pleasure in knowing that you must be riling him up just as equally because Theo always seemed to come crawling back.

You bring your free hand up, tangling your fingers in his lush, brown locks, before tugging his head back a bit so he could look at you. He groans at this. It was one of many acts that really got Theo going, and it just so happened to be where your hands gravitated to the most.

"Please," you say, the tiniest of smirks on your lips.

Anticipation runs through your veins. You didn't need to say anything else. By the way he was looking at you, his lustful eyes boring into your gaze, Theo knew you needed him right now.

"Good girl," he muses with a cocky grin.

The first time Theo had praised you like that, while laced with ridicule, it had elicited a whimper that had him reeling. Today was no different.

Theo moves his hand from your throat and down to your waist, expertly pulling you away from the door and onto the desks behind him. Theo wastes no time and captures your lips with his. One hand finds your thigh, teasing up your bare skin and under your skirt. Your hands find and tug at his belt. Theo unbuckles it and tosses it aside.

"Let's see if you can keep it up." Theo says hotly against your lips.

It was in your nature to be good. But with Theo, there was that bubbling voice inside you that beckoned you to misbehave—to get under his skin. To be bad, all so he could teach you a lesson. Which is why, as Theo plants nippy, wet kisses down your neck, you can't help the words that blurt out of your mouth.

"Let's see if you can make me shake, like—what was that bloke's name..." You trail off, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt for another kiss and wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close.

There was no other guy, of course, but you wanted him to think otherwise. The mischievous glint in your eyes changes to amusement as Theo's eyes darken. His fingers drag possessively across the insides of your thighs. It was hard for Theo to imagine you with someone else. You two weren't exclusive by any means, but the way you'd whimper and dig your nails into his back had him feeling territorial.

"Shake?" Theo asks against your lips. There was a tinge of something in his tone, and, deep down, you wanted it to be jealousy. "I'll fucking make you shake."

Feverish kisses move down your neck, eliciting a whine out of you, his free hands taking residence on the base of your throat. He plants open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive spots along your neck, sucking softly on the skin, surely leaving a mark everyone would be able to see. Theo pulls back to admire his work. He's pleased. You, on the other hand, were equal parts excited and annoyed. Excited because the sensation made the blood rush to your cheeks and to your core, and annoyed because you had to explain the markings to your friends.

"Theo," you hiss. "You know better."

Theo doesn't listen, obviously. Instead, he moves down your body until he's crouched and face-to-cunt. Slender fingers reach under your skirt, hook onto your panties, and slide the garment off. In an instant, Theo's between your legs, lapping his tongue relentlessly over your clit.

"Oh my god," you gasp, one hand grasping onto the edge of the desk, your back arching instinctively to bring yourself closer to his tongue. Your free hand finds his hair again, your hips rolling to meet his movements.

Theo's smirks into your core, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels you roll onto his mouth. Strong hands position themselves on either leg, urging you to spread your legs wider. You try to obey his silent requests, but it's not enough. Impatience hits him hard, and he's repositioning your legs so they're slung over his shoulders, a firm hand pushing your hips down onto the wooden desk. The new position allowed him to be flush against you, his tongue circling your entrance and lapping up any arousal.

"Theo," you moan, louder than normal.

You could tell he was pissed. It'd always been your goal, especially in intimate settings, but Theo had never been like this. He buries his face between your legs, his nose rubbing against your clit as his tongue works on your opening. He dips a finger in and withdraws it out of you slowly, contrasting his unyielding tongue. Your eyes flutter shut with pleasure.

"More," you choke out. "Please, give me more."

Your moans were fueling the already raging fire in him. Fuck, he needed to hear more of that. Theo uses his free hand to hold you steady, his tongue and lips unrelenting. He adds another digit inside of you, curling his fingers against your spot. Theo wanted to make you cum now more than ever. He wanted you to remember that even if you were fucking someone else, he was the only one who could make you unravel like this.

"Sit fucking still then," he growled against your slit, stormy eyes shooting up to look at you.

You fight hard to listen to him, desperately trying not to squirm. Theo was cruel enough to stop and leave you high and dry, so it was in your best interest to do as instructed. You dig your nails into the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep your focus on something other than the pleasure growing inside of you.

"Th-Theo," you gasp. "I—"

You're close, and you know what Theo wants—what he always wants. Theo wanted you to ask for permission, and with the image of someone else messing with you fresh in his mind, Theo needed to know he had that control over you now more than ever. Breathy pants fill the room, and you fear you can't hold it back any longer.

"Fuck, please. Can I please..." You moan, throwing your head back against the desk.

"Please what?" Theo says roughly against you. If Theo's cock wasn't already erect, it would be now. Your moans and gasps of pleasure were truly something that needed to be studied. Who knew these delightfully ragged breaths could come out of someone so irritatingly uptight? "Words, Y/L/N."

The fog of pleasure Theo has you in has made it impossible for you to do the one thing you pride yourself on: following the instructions. Typically, Theo would remove himself and make you beg for contact. Today, though, his actions were ceaseless. Despite your strong will to be good, your body wouldn't cooperate.

"Oh my god," you whimper, your back arching as an intense orgasm washes over you. Your body jerks—no, shakes—and your moans are broken up by desperate gasps as wave after wave hits you.

Theo curses under his breath. As pissed as he was that you didn't ask, Theo graciously allows you to release on his tongue, lapping up your sweet fluids. He'd reprimand you later. As you come down from your high, your body collapses onto the desk. You've never felt anything like that before.

Theo stands and slides his fingers out of you slowly. His darkened, lustful eyes are trained on yours. As much as he enjoyed the view, Theo wasn't happy.

"Don't," you breathe. "I know—I should have... I know."

"So much for following instructions," Theo says, disregarding your words. He licks your arousal off his fingers casually, and the sight makes you shift and clench your thighs together. He was the hottest irritant you've ever seen.

"Fuck off," you say with an exasperated huff. You prop yourself up by your elbows, slowly moving into a sitting position. "You didn't exactly help the situation."

So maybe Theo was being a bit of a prick. Not like he could help it—you squirming and moaning for him like that triggered something primal in him. Theo didn't want to stop; he wanted to make you scream for him. Still, it really shouldn't have been hard to ask.

By the way Theo was looking at you, you could tell it would take more than a crass brush-off to wipe the icy glare and pouted lips from his expression. Delicate fingers grip onto Theo's shirt, tugging him closer to you. You ghost your lips against his, meeting his steely gaze. "Will you let me make it up to you?"

You don't wait for a response. Instead, you nip at his bottom lip before pulling him in for a slow, deep kiss. Despite his annoyance, Theo kisses back, placing a strong hand behind your neck to keep you in place. The kiss is full of passion, anger, and need.

You maneuver yourself off the desk, unbreaking the hot kiss, as you reposition so that Theo's the one against the desk. He acknowledges you taking charge, and he allows it because, quite frankly, whenever you did take charge, Theo found it extremely intoxicating.

Only now do you break the kiss, peering up at Theo as your hands fumble with his pants. He kicks them off just as you remove your own top, making a point of leaving your bra intact. Theo's breath catches. God, he wanted to bury his face between the valley of your breasts.

"So?" You ask again, a devilish smirk on your lips, your fingers making progress on unbuttoning his collared shirt. "Will you?"

"Go on, then." Theo says. It's not lost on him how much leniency he gives you—not just in this moment. Any other girl who disobeyed his instructions would have been tossed aside so he could move on to the next. But with you, as vexing as you were, you also very much intrigued him.

At his permission, you lightly push him back so he's sitting on the desk, giving him a much comfortable position to watch as you slowly unhook your bra, letting the garment fall to the floor. You can sense his probing eyes on you, and you can't help the sly smile that appears as you straddle him, one leg on each side of him.

Theo's hands find your waist immediately, slowly sliding up your sides, to your bare back, and then to your front. He squeezes your breasts, eliciting a breathy moan from you. Your skin was soft under his rough hands.

"And I thought you were going to let that ego of yours make a horrible choice for the both of us." You tease.

Theo's too enamoured with this new position (and view) to respond to your jests. One hand rests firmly on your jaw as he pulls you in for a kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. Meanwhile, your hand moves to stroke his length, feeling Theo grow even harder at your touch.

"Shit," Theo groans.

"Someone's missed me," you whisper against his lips. Your thumb teases the tip of his cock, evoking a slight twitch out of him.

"God, shut up."

Theo wanted nothing more than to wipe—no, fuck—that smug expression on your face. And he's just about ready to take matters into his own hands, but you beat him to it.

Still wet from your previous orgasm, you were beyond ready to have Theo inside you. You lift yourself up slightly, guiding him to your entrance. He bites back a groan, his hands gripping your waist. You lock gazes as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your mouth falling open in a glorious 'o' shape as you take all of him into you.

While this wasn't the first time you had Theodore Nott resting deeply in your cunt, you took a moment to adjust.

"Are you going to move, or what?" Theo growls impatiently, bucking his hips and roughly nipping at the soft skin on your neck.

His impatience makes you smirk.

"Hey," you say, with a wry smile. You snake your fingers up to his hair, tugging his head back slightly to give you room to trail a path of kisses along his neck. You were going to prolong this and make you both ache for more. You didn't want to be the only one who was a moaning mess today. "If I'm making it up to you, then it's my rules."

"You know I don't give a shit about rules."

"Too bad."

This makes Theo's jaw clench. Before he can utter another quip, you're rolling your hips, feeling him embedded inside you. The movement feels good, but you know it's not enough for either of you just yet.

"God, I'm thankful your ego isn't the only thing that's big," you moan against his ear.

This makes Theo's jaw clench. You hear a string of curse words in another language, something you've noticed Theo does in moments where his brain had short-circuited. Enough sense, it seems, is knocked back into him as you can understand the breathless words, "And you take me so fucking well."

Theo's lips find the top of your chest, kissing down feverishly. His tongue flicks expertly against your right nipple as his hand moves to grip your bare ass from under your skirt. You arch into him, letting out a sharp gasp at the dual sensation. Despite his sentiment about rules, Theo lets you control the pace. He holds back the strong desire to thrust upwards into you, to fuck you hard.

"Oh, Theo," you whine as you continue to roll your hips. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and lift yourself up, almost completely off his dick. Ghosting your lips against his, you push yourself back down—hard—feeling him go even deeper. You repeat these movements, your moans growing louder.

Theo can't stop the thoughts of how gorgeous you looked from clouding his mind. You weren't bad to look at normally, but seeing you fuck yourself with his cock had to be one of the wonders of the world. Only if that were a reality, Theo's not sure he could stand anyone else ogling you like this.

"Yes, that... that feels good." Theo groans, his cock throbbing from your movements.

You press your forehead against his, your eyes locking with his as you continue. One of the things Theo liked most about this little arrangement was your unnerving ability to keep eye contact—there was nothing more sexy than seeing the woman you were pleasuring crumble. Eyes can tell you everything.

"I'm trying to—" you breathe, rocking yourself against him. The movement wasn't nearly fast enough, but the way you were moving had him reaching depths you didn't know were attainable. "—to be good."

"Are you?" Theo asks between pants, squeezing your ass roughly. He leans into your lips. "Can you be a good girl for me now?"

You give him a small nod, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Your breath is quavering as you try to speak; your eyes re-lock onto his. "Am I not being good for you?"

This makes him chuckle darkly. Theo wasn't an idiot. He knew you practically yearned for his words of praise. The knowledge was something he took advantage of from time to time, withholding and dangling his praise in front of you just to see how far you'd go to make him say it.

To prove to Theo you were being good, you push yourself down onto him roughly, a whimper escaping your lips. You increase your speed, unable to hold out anymore, fucking yourself hard, deep, and fast on his cock.

"Fuck." Theo swears, and he can't help himself now. Hands keep you in place as he fucks up into you, cock hitting your spot repeatedly and mercilessly. He relishes the feeling of your wet core around him. Your clit presses against his pelvis at each thrust.

You took pleasure (literally and figuratively) in Theo's natural ability in knowing. He knew what to say, how to touch you so you were melting, and when to take back control. His hands digging into your hips told you everything you needed to know: Theo was going to fuck you senseless.

"I want to be good," you pant, your nails digging into his back, grasping for a release.

"Then you know what I want to hear."

He holds you flush against him, arms wrapping around you as he continues to thrust. He can feel his own pleasure grow. Your head falls onto his shoulder as you feel it building up in your stomach again. This time, you weren't going to wait until it was too late.

"Theo, please," you practically beg. Theo was the only person who'd ever make you feel like this, and you were past the point of caring whether he knew it too. "Can I cum, please? For you."

"Yes," Theo hisses. He was close too. "Cum for me. Now."

Your orgasm hits you hard and fast, your head falling back as you drag your nails into his skin. Theo continues to thrust up sharply, chasing the high for the both of you. You clench around his length, the sensation mixed with your moans pushing Theo over the edge.

"That's my good girl."

Theo's praise for you was not lost in the chorus of breathy moans and grunts of pleasure. His addition of the word 'my' made you shake even more as another wave of pleasure washes over you.

"Oh, God, yes, Theo."

His hand moves to the back of your neck desperately, guiding you into him for a passionate kiss as he spills into you with a moan.

Ragged breaths fill the room. There was always a moment of limbo after every encounter—a moment where the two of you stayed entangled and nestled with each other, savouring the proximity and stealing last, sweet kisses. You knew the moment you got up, the two of you would go back to despising each other again, until next time.

"So?" Theo asks after a moment, expectant of an answer, as if you could read his mind. "That dumb git you mentioned earlier. Was he better than me?"

His question makes you smirk, and you have to bite it back so as not to show how content you were that he had lingered on that thought.

"You don't want me to answer that," you say, giving him a small pat on the shoulder before getting up. You slip back into your clothes and adjust your hair.

The answer should have been obvious to Theo, but you weren't giving him the satisfaction of admitting it because it did nothing for your reality. This was as far as this would go. Theodore Nott was a pretentious asshole who just so happened to be a good fuck. There was never going to be more than that.

"You definitely exceeded expectations today, Theo," you say, gathering your books from the floor. "But you didn't do anything worth an outstanding."

With a swift flick of your wand, you unlock the door and leave Theo in the vacant classroom, already fantasizing about next time.

#if you squint this is theo x ravenclaw reader #theodore nott smut #theo nott smutt #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott x you #theodore nott #theo nott #*writing

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lvlyghost · 1 year

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Cold Nights

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: Reader doesn't show up for morning training. Ghost doesn't know what to think.

Word Count: 794

Tw: fluff, angst, mentions of being sick, soldiers being scared of simon lol, ooc simon probably, he calls reader kid, i think that's it🤭

A/N: I'm sick and this came to my mind, I just want simon to take care of me okay???🥹🤧 this is super bad as usual. still hope you like it. pls remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome ✨💖

Masterlist✨

Ghost doesn't see her at the cafeteria, nor the training room. He's disgruntled. His eyes keep drifting apart from the soldiers in front of him, waiting for the next round of endless push ups he's gonna make them go through.

Why isn't she here?

His body feels restless, pacing back and forth.

Soap doesn't say anything, just shifts his weight from one foot to another.

"Johnny," he calls him. "You're in charge."

"Lt.?" He quirks a brow, not understanding. That's so unlike him.

"Got things to do."

He storms out of the room, the walls rattle when he closes the doors.

It's a cold day. Just like the day before.

Days used to mean nothing to him.

Time.

Until she came along. Three years ago.

That woman... he sighs.

Was it something he said? Didn't they talk about it last night?

Everything was fine.

Or so he thought.

"We shouldn't be out here, kid." He mutters. It's freezing, he can see her trembling even beneath her hoodie. Well it was actually his. The hoodie completely swallowing her small form.

"I know, I know!" She laughs. Her cheeks a beautiful shade of pink. "I just... it was too loud inside." That he can agree on. "Is it true?" She asks a few seconds later.

Simon stills. Choosing his next words carefully.

"What?"

"What Soap said." A heartbeat. "About us."

There's a silence that falls between them.

"Those were the words of a drunk man."

"Were they?" her smile is contagious. Damn her and her beautiful soul. "Would you come with me if I asked you to?"

He stares directly at her, trying to find any sign of doubt. He's always mesmerized by her gentle nature. That's something he never knew. Perhaps that's why he was so drawn to her. Longed to be wherever she was. Breathe the same air.

"I'd say that's highly inappropriate." He states. "And that you've had too many shots of whatever poor excuse of a whiskey Johnny made you drink."

"Price called it piss water." She shooks her head. "You're changing the subject!"

Simon chuckles. He really does.

"You've got such power over me no one else could ever have, kid."

And he's doomed.

He's trying so hard, going through the events of the night, trying to remember. What happened? Nothing out of line was said. She seemed content when they parted ways, right after he had kissed her good night outside her room. Simon saw the way her eyes lit up with a spark he never saw before. The longing stare. Remembers vividly how she had stopped him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt pulling him down for another heated kiss.

He walks down the corridor with long strides. Hands balled into fists. He shouldn't be this mad. But that was the effect she had in him.

He tries to cool down. Ghost was scared too. What if she had changed her mind and didn't want anything to do with him? He was messing up his head at the mere thought.

He finally makes it to the room, knocking twice before her soft voice tells him he can come in.

Inside the room, all the curtains were closed, not a single ray of light made it inside apart from the lamp casting shadows around. Furrowing his brows he closes the door behind him with a low click.

"Kid?" He calls her. Immediately rolling on her side she welcomes him, red eyes, stuffy nose and looking disheveled.

"Sorry I missed training." She apologizes. Changing to a sitting position and waits for him to sit next to her.

"What's wrong?" He demands with a soft voice. She's still wearing his hoodie from last night. Rubbing her eyes she gives Simon a tired smile.

"I'm just really sick Simon." She answers, he can hear her hoarse voice now.

"Bloody hell, love." His hand goes straight to her face, caressing her cheek. "Did you go to the infirmary?" Closing her eyes, she rest her head against his hand.

"Mhm. Got some painkillers prescribed. Still feel horrible."

"Good, it'll take some time for you to feel better. You need to rest, okay?". The look he gave her leaves no room for discussion.

"Wasn't planning on leaving my bed you know?" He smiles ever so slightly. "Would you stay with me?" When he doesn't answer right away she adds: "never mind you'll catch whatever this bug is and i don't ..."

"Sweetheart," he interrupts her rambling. "Scoot over."

She looks at him wide-eyed.

"You... you don't," she stutters.

"No, I don't mind at all. If there's anything you need just tell me, copy?" She nods, staring at his blue eyes. "Told you we shouldn't have been outside last night."

"Even if it meant catching a cold, I'm glad we did, Simon."

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader #call of duty ghost simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #john price #john price x reader #cod konig #cod mw22

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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Never in a million years did Steve Harrington think he'd be standing in the drama club room in front of Eddie the Freak--who's sitting on a goddamn throne with his full lips pulled into a smug grin--asking to be taught how to play Dorks and Goblins. Yet, here he is, face a burning shade of crimson, as he explains for the sixth time what, exactly, he needs.

"Munson, it's not that hard. Henderson wants me to play in the--the game thingy they're doing when Will is home for a visit."

"Yeah, Harrington, and I stop listening every time you call it a game thingy. You obviously don't care about this at all, so why should I waste my time helping you?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "What if I pay you?"

Munson's face goes through a complicated series of changes before falling into a neutral mask, no smirk or teasing smile to be found. "You'll pay me to teach you dnd? Are you fucking kidding?"

"No?' Steve draws a hand through his hair, watches as Munson's dark eyes track the movement. "I thought you might help me out cause those kids never shut-up about you, but I'm willing to put money on it."

"Huh," Eddie says. He steeples his fingers under his chin. "Maybe I misjudged you, Harrington."

Steve lets himself smile at this. "I don't think you did. I don't give a shit about this game."

"Didn't take you for one to have a bunch of nerdy child friends."

"I'm their babysitter," he says, realizes immediately it was a mistake.

Eddie cackles until it turns into a full-bodied laugh, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "You are something else, Harrington," he manages.

For his part, Steve hopes Munson hasn't noticed how bright red his face is. "Does that mean you'll help me?"

"I guess," he rolls his eyes. "But if you're just screwing around, I'm out."

"No, yeah, totally," Steve nods too hard, sends his hair cascading into his face. "Sounds good. How much?"

"Huh?" Eddie tilts his face up, giving Steve a perfect view of the smattering of faint freckles across the bridge of his nose.

"I said I'd pay you. What's the going rate for dnd lessons?"

"Oh, nah, free of charge, Harrington. Henderson would eat me alive if he knew I made you pay."

The smile they share is soft, tentative, and Steve doesn't notice the swathes of pink decorating Eddie's pale cheekbones.

---

They meet up in the drama room after the last bell. Eddie is waiting on the throne with his feet propped on the table, sipping a Mt. Dew. His eyes widen when Steve walks into the room.

"You're on time," he says.

Steve scoffs. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Eddie shrugs, sets his feet on the floor. "Just wasn't aware that the King put a lot of stock in punctuality."

"C'mon, man, I'm trying not to be that guy, and I'm definitely not king of anything. Unless maybe it's Family Video, but even then, that's Robin."

"You're kind of weird, Harrington, you know that?" Eddie's dimples bracket his smile. The sight does weird things in Steve's chest.

"I've been told, yeah." Steve smiles back. "Where do we start?"

They start with dice, with a character sheet.

"Chaotic-good human Paladin?" Eddie asks.

He shrugs. "That's what Dustin keeps screaming at me. I got no idea what any of it means."

"That's not entirely true," Eddie says. "You've kept up with me so far."

"Yeah, that's you. Dustin rambles and then accuses me of not listening when it's over my head. When he goes on long enough, I start to get a headache right here," Steve rubs the spot between his eyes.

"That kid," Eddie says with the right combination of affection and frustration. "I don't know, you seem to have picked up on some of the stuff he said. You have a solid idea on gameplay, at least. I'd say you're doing pretty good."

"Thanks," Steve laughs. "No migraine yet, so that's a point in your favor."

"Migraines?"

"Head trauma."

"Byers?"

"And Hargrove."

"That was Hargrove?" Eddie asks.

"Hit me in the head with a plate."

"What the fuck."

"He was pissed that Max was friends with Lucas. He came after them. I couldn't just let him--I think he would've killed Lucas."

Eddie nods, hands fiddling with a die. "No wonder those kids love you," he says.

"We've been through some shit together."

"Guess it makes more sense why you wanted to learn dnd."

"As much as it pains me to admit," Steve rolls his eyes. "I love to make those little shitheads happy."

"Well, based on the way they talk about you, you succeed."

"You too, you know?" Steve offers. "All I've heard about the last three months is 'Eddie's so cool,' 'Hellfire's so fun.'"

"Jealous?" Eddie laughs.

"Completely," Steve admits.

"Don't worry, Harrington, I'll make a nerd out of you yet."

---

They meetup after school every day they can over the next two weeks. At first, Steve is surprised that he doesn't really mind spending so much time with Munson, that he actually, kind of, has fun. And the more time they spend together, the more Eddie infiltrates his space. Leans into Steve's side as they sit next to each other, brushes their hands together, hovers over his shoulder, faces nearly touching, as he checks stuff on Steve's character sheet.

It makes Steve feel--well, it makes him think of what it would be like to run his fingers through the soft gloss of Eddie's curls; wonders what that plump mouth would be like pressed against his own; can't stop thinking about if Eddie is as vocal in bed as he is everywhere else. He knows he also likes guys, has for a while, but he's never in his life wanted someone this viscerally; so much he can feel the ache of it in his teeth.

It's the last day before the campaign for Will, and Steve is fucking sad. He thinks maybe Eddie is too. He's at least quieter than normal, explanations not at their usual fever pitch. An hour before they usually call it quits, he claps his hands together (too gently, too unlike himself), says, "That's it, Harrington. You're not going to be more ready than this."

"Right," Steve says. Can't help his eyes from darting over Eddie's face, aching to know what he's thinking. "You'll be there tomorrow?"

Eddie bends his head over his notebooks. "Nah, I don't need to intrude."

"But--"

"It's okay, Stevie. I get that it's family only." He looks like he really means it, but his eyes are sad, don't shine like they should.

Steve doesn't know what to say to that, just nods, and then there's nothing else. They stare at each other for a few very long, quiet seconds, before Eddie says, "I'll see you around, Harrington."

"Right, yeah. You too." And he walks out of the drama room with the heaviest heart he thinks he's ever had.

---

Steve thinks he won't miss Eddie. That if he doesn't dwell on those hours spent with Eddie, learning dnd, that the missing will go away.

It doesn't.

Which is how he finds himself back at the high school on Wednesday, standing in front of the drama room door, willing himself to go inside. Eddie's on the throne, the typical notebooks and binders and Mt. Dew cans clustered around him, but he's not engrossed in imagining up a new campaign for Hellfire. No, his head is in his hands, knees drawn up to his chest.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

His head pops up, and even in the low light, Steve notices the silvery tracks of tears down his cheeks.

"Steve! What are you--" he hastily wipes at his face with his shirt sleeve. "What are you doing here?"

Steve's acting only on instinct, crossing the room and dropping to his knees, taking Eddie's jaw between his palms, thumbing away the wetness on his cheeks.

"Did someone hurt you?" he asks.

Eddie's laugh is wet. "Nah, Harrington. I only have myself to blame for this one."

"Can I do anything?"

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Sorry?"

"You, Steve Harrington, kind and compassionate? Learn dnd to make your little nerd friends happy? Who are you?"

"I'm just me, man," Steve blushes. "But, uh, I came to thank you." He's still holding Eddie's face in his hands, can't help but notice the way he flushes, how his dark eyes dart away from Steve's.

"I really liked hanging out with you," Steve says. This close to Eddie, his mind doesn't quite feel like his own. All he can think of is big eyes, soft curls, full lips.

"Yo--you did?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He doesn't quite remember moving, but now their foreheads are pressed together, warm breath mingling, lips almost, almost touching.

"I liked it too," Eddie breathes. After a few seconds, he laughs. "Knew I'd make a nerd out of you, Harrington."

"Shut-up," Steve laughs.

"Make me," Eddie says, and it's just that easy. Steve crosses the space still separating them, presses his mouth against Eddie's.

The kiss is slow, exploratory, the gentle discovery of how they fit together, the promise of all the things they can do in the future, all the pleasure they can bring.

"I'm not a nerd," Steve says when they part.

"No, you're right. You're like a nerd by marriage. Nerd-in-law," Eddie giggles. His eyes are bright, face pink, the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen.

"Shut-up," Steve giggles right back.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, the dare obvious, and Steve doesn't hesitate to kiss him again.

"You wanna get out of here?" Steve asks when they part, significantly more breathless, jeans significantly tighter, than when he arrived.

"You're gonna have to role persuasion for that, Stevie," Eddie smirks.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #ficlet #oneshot #dnd lessons #falling in love #mutual pining #eddie's down so bad #first kiss #secret nerd steve harrington #i don't know anything about dnd actually so sorry if it's wrong #strangers to friends to lovers #alternate first meeting #big eyes soft curls full lips can't lose #“shut up” “make me” is a love language

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cardansriddle · 5 months

Text

Sugar - (tom riddle x fem!muggle!reader)

Summary: Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time.

Warnings: Tom gets possessive halfway through so it's pretty tame for him. not proofread. oh also self-indulgent crime & punishment debate (got a lil carried away).

A/N: 5.5k words but it's kinda mehh. to the person who requested this, i hope you enjoy it at least a little <3

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom felt as if he was a solitary figure in a world hushed by the winter's harsh embrace. With each step he took away from the desolate building of grey against the pristine canvas of winter, he felt lighter. He did not cast a look back towards the orphanage looming behind him, instead focused on the sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet as they led him further into the dark street cloaked in a thick layer of snow.

The wizard knew if he spent another moment in that cursed place he would have lashed out and killed someone, so he had hastily thrown his coat and emerald scarf around himself before slamming the door shut behind him.

Two more years. He thought to himself. Then he would be out and would never be obligated to return again. Perhaps he would even burn the place to the ground if his plans worked out in his favour.

The air was crisp, and his breath materialized in front of him with each exhale. His eyes quickly scanned the narrow empty alley for a suitable quiet place where he could pass his time. There was nothing interesting, except for the tiny bookstore nestled in the corner of the street that emitted a warm, golden light through its window. Tom quickly decided it would do, and he strode towards the place with purpose. A small bell chimed as he entered the place, which he quickly realised was a bookstore with a cosy coffee shop tucked inside.

He inhaled the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of weathered books. Before he could lose himself entirely in the intoxicating symphony of scents, a sudden, loud thud echoed from behind the counter, jolting him from his reverie.

"Blimey!" someone cursed, their voice slicing through the tranquillity. Tom found himself rooted to the spot, curiosity piqued, as a figure suddenly emerged from underneath the counter.

It was a girl. Unabashedly, his eyes traced the lines of her features, noting the delicate curve of her jaw and the cascade of hair that framed her face. He assumed she was around his age if not younger and he stared at the girl as she rubbed her head, wincing when she hit a particularly soft spot before she realised that she was not alone in the shop. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and he watched as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

Tom, still an observer, saw more than just the blush; he discerned the subtleties of her response, the way her eyes momentarily widened before seeking refuge elsewhere, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her knitted cardigan.

She attempted to compose herself and met his eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sir. How may I assist you?" She asked cheerfully, resisting the urge to duck her head down to avoid his intense stare.

He crossed the small distance to the counter. "I'd like a coffee. Black."

"No sugar?" she inquired, to which Tom raised a single brow. Her blush deepened as she quickly averted her eyes from his face.

"Right, of course. You may take a seat while I prepare this for you." With a nod, she hurried to fulfil his request, leaving Tom alone with the lingering scent of coffee and old books that were now intertwined with a pleasant smell of vanilla and sweet—

It was her perfume, he realised with a start.

He hastily removed his coat and scarf before plopping down on the nearest armchair. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, absorbed in the rhythm of her practised motions as she prepared his drink, her movements seemingly both effortless and comforting. There was an almost lazy grace to her actions and he continued to watch as she sang under her breath so softly if he had not been staring so intensely, he would not have picked up on it.

He wondered how he had never noticed this place before. He had been passing through this little street for as long as he could remember but for some reason, he had only stumbled upon it today. His sharp eyes darted around, instinctively searching for traces of magic, half-expecting the discovery of a hidden passage to the wizarding world but he quickly realised the place was undeniably, disappointingly muggle.

Muggle.

He tore his gaze away from the girl at the mental reminder of what she was. He fished out a book from his bag and opened it to occupy his mind.

The subtle shuffle of her approaching steps drew his attention back to the present, and he met her gaze as she placed the steaming cup of coffee before him. A sugar packet sat innocently beside it. His eyes lingered on the packet for a moment before lifting coldly to meet hers.

She, however, was undeterred by the intensity of his glare. “In case you change your mind.” She smiled at him softly before turning on her heel and walking back.

His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, and then, almost involuntarily, it dropped to the innocuous sugar packet.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom did not know why he had returned. Truthfully, he had not even noticed his feet had led him here until he was in front of the familiar wooden door that led into the coffee shop. Perhaps he had thought more than he should’ve about the disgustingly soft smile of that girl for the last five months. She was an insolent muggle, yet here he was, walking into the place as if he had never left.

The seasons had blurred since he had last been here. Winter had long surrendered to the warmth of summer. He had to spend at least a month in the orphanage, and he was hoping Malfoy would invite him over for the rest of the summer.

The place was just as he remembered it. The only difference was the lack of Christmas decorations. He faltered only slightly when he took notice of the girl behind the counter, already staring at him. She had not changed much. Her face was the same, less pale perhaps, but the same, nonetheless. The oversized knitted sweater that once enveloped her had been replaced by a little white sundress, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on the exposed smooth skin.

“Welcome back!” She greeted him cheerfully, and he was not surprised she remembered him. “What can I get you?”

“Black coffee,” he replied curtly

She nodded as if she was expecting it. "Coming right up." Gently shutting her book, she gracefully moved towards the coffee machine. Tom's eyes couldn't help but trail to the volume she had been reading, and to his pleasant surprise, it was Dostoyevsky. He had not pegged her as someone who would enjoy Russian literature, with its weighty and morally morbid themes. In his mind, she seemed more likely to be a Jane Austen enthusiast, with her intricately written romances and flowery prose.

“It’s 'Crime and Punishment'." He suddenly heard her soft voice declare, and he looked away from the book to give his attention to the girl. Then feeling as if she had said something silly, she blushed and looked away quickly. "Though I'm sure you figured that. I just wondered why you look so surprised."

He replied before he could tell himself not to. "I did not imagine you as someone who would enjoy this."

Emboldened at his words, she turned to face him, a hand casually resting on her hip as she sported a cheeky smile. "Am I to presume you imagine me often?"

His sharp inhale was audible as he absorbed the unexpected shift in her demeanour. He had not expected this shy, timid girl to tease him so boldly. She was a little vixen.

But he did not give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. A lazy raise of his brow was the extent of his acknowledgement before his gaze wandered towards the rows of bookshelves, feigning indifference. "Do you have another copy? Perhaps I shall like to reread this evening."

She frowned, walking over towards the table he had occupied last time to set his coffee down. He grimly took notice of the sugar packet placed near it. "I'm afraid not. But you can have mine."

"No, that is quite alri—" He began to decline but she had already crossed the small distance between them and was holding out the thick book. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers closed around the object, careful to avoid touching hers.

The girl smiled and walked away before he could even say thanks. Not like he was going to.

Settling back into the soft armchair, he opened the book only to freeze at the sight of a name scribbled on the front page and he knew it belonged to her. The wizard rolled the name around in his mind and determined that it suited her. He stared at her name for a minute longer before turning the page and delving into the content of the book.

He had been so immersed in the story that he had not noticed how the time had passed. The gradual hush of the coffee shop's ambient sounds finally penetrated his concentration, and he distinctly heard the girl approaching him.

"I'm sorry to disturb you but we're closing in five minutes." She looked at the book in his hands. "You may return it once you're done."

He hummed and looked down at where he had stopped.

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."

He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something.

Tom found himself caught in the silent narrative of this stranger's presence.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He returned the next day.

She looked up to see him enter, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up.

Tom placed the book on the counter.

"You finished it in one day?"

He shrugged. "I'm a fast reader."

She gave him a small smile, turning to make his black coffee before he could ask for it. "Every time I reread it it takes me a few days." She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The usual?"

He nodded. "The usual." He debated whether or not to voice his next question, and decided one conversation with the girl would not hurt.

"Why do you read it so often?"

"Each time I find new details that make Raskolnikov's character more complex. Each time I discover these small little things I missed the last time I read it becomes so much better. Plus I enjoy his moral dilemma."

He hummed, his curiosity piqued. He took his usual seat and watched as she brought his coffee and set it down in front of him. "Enlighten me." He gestured towards the seat in front of him. She hesitated only for a second before taking a seat.

"Raskolnikov is obviously a complex character. His actions are driven by a desire for power and superiority, a belief that he is exempt from conventional morality. However, one could argue that his internal struggles and eventual remorse suggest a more nuanced exploration of morality."

Tom furrowed his brows. "I see him as a product of his environment, a desperate man driven to extremes by the harsh circumstances he faced. His morality shifts to the other side of the spectrum."

She cocked her head to the side, and he could see her getting slightly frustrated. "But morality is not just a spectrum; it's a complex interplay of values, societal norms, and personal convictions. Raskolnikov's guilt stems from the clash between his actions and the intrinsic moral compass within him. It's the consequence of recognizing the weight of one's choices."

He scoffed before he could stop himself. "Morality is subjective. What is right for one may not be right for another. Raskolnikov was weak and he was an idiot. Guilt is a useless emotion and it is for the weak."

Her expression remained unwavering. "But perhaps it's that recognition of guilt that separates the morally discerning from those who lack empathy. The fact that you can't comprehend his guilt doesn't make it foolish. It makes it human."

Tom's eyes narrowed a glint of impatience in his gaze. "Human or not, guilt is a hindrance. It's a sentiment for those too feeble to rise above their actions. If I were to make a difficult choice, I would do it without hesitation, without remorse."

He only realised the slip of his tongue after the words left his mouth. He stilled, gauging her reaction yet her response was measured but firm. "Raskolnikov's guilt is a testament to his humanity, his ability to grapple with the consequences of his choices. It's what sets him apart from those who operate without remorse."

"But—"

"So what you're saying is you would kill and feel no remorse?" She cut him off.

Yes.

"You do not understand." He did not intend his tone to be so harsh, yet the words left his mouth coldly. She visibly withdrew and nodded stiffly. "Right. Enjoy your coffee."

He opened his mouth to say something but realised for the first time in his life he did not know what to say.

He was left staring at the cursed sugar packet she had left near his coffee again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He did not return the next day. Nor the day after. Or after.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Two weeks passed with no sign of him.

And then she saw him step into the coffee shop. He walked in with determination. He walked up to the counter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that mirrored the unspoken tension between them. "I'd like a black coffee," he said, his tone even, though a hint of something lingered beneath the surface.

She nodded, her expression composed but guarded. As she prepared the coffee, the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Her usual cheerful smile was notably absent. The absence struck him, and he realised he had enjoyed her smiles.

When she placed the coffee in front of him, there was a palpable pause. He glanced at the sugar packet, a subtle acknowledgement of the lingering disagreement. Without a word, he took it, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he poured the sugar into his coffee.

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering, before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He returned the next day. And the day after that. And for the rest of summer.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

The next time he stepped into the familiar place, winter had covered the city with a snowy blanket once again. It had been a year since he first discovered this little place. And he had not seen his little waiter since he left for Hogwarts in September.

When he walked in, her eyes lit up visibly. "Hi!" She waved at him with a bright grin.

"Hello." He greeted as he unwrapped his scarf and settled in his usual seat. In a matter of minutes, she was bringing him his usual order. She was back to wearing her warm knitted sweaters. "How did you enjoy the book?"

"Oscar Wilde never disappoints," he said. She hummed in agreement, pleased at his words. He watched as her hands dropped to fidget with the bottom of her sweater. "You wish to ask me something." He stated. "Ask."

"Do you study in a boarding school?"

Tom hesitated only for a moment before replying. "Yes."

"Oh. Well, that explains the months of not showing up."

"Were you expecting me?" He teased her with an amused smirk, taking delight in the way her cheeks reddened.

"I was just wondering that is all," she admitted, a hint of curiosity peeking through. Tom observed her, noting the return of the timid, shy girl from their first encounter. It amused him how a few teasing remarks could momentarily whisk away her fiery boldness. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to awaken it once again.

"And do you wonder about me often, little vixen?" he added, a playful glint in his eyes.

She blushed harder at the nickname but then as if a thought had struck her, she straightened and Tom watched as she visibly mustered up her courage. "I actually was wondering your name."

He bristled, but she must have not noticed because she continued. "I suppose I have not given you mine either." She mused out loud and announced her name to him. "But I thought it bizarre that considering all the time we've talked we never got around to that. Friends who do not each other's names." The girl laughed at the last notion and only then she realised that Tom had remained unnervingly quiet throughout the exchange. She raised her eyes from the frayed edges of her sweater, and the sight almost made her take a step back. His eyes had darkened, and she could have sworn she saw them flash red. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his gaze.

"Are you alright?"

Suddenly, he rose from his seat, an ominous tension permeating the air as he advanced towards her with every word. "We are not friends. You dare to think I would be friends with the likes of you?" His words were sharper than the keenest of blades, cutting into her with merciless precision. "Foolish, little girl," He spat out before grabbing his things and storming out of the place. As the door closed behind him, the little coffee shop seemed to exhale, the echoes of his harsh words lingering in the hushed aftermath.

She stood frozen in her place, helpless against the storm of emotions and the tears that began to veil her vision.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom fumed for months after their last encounter. How dare the ignorant muggle insinuate that they were friends? He scarcely considered his Knights of Walpurgis as his friends, and she thought she would just appoint herself the title? Who did she think she was?

"Mate, you alright? You've been unresponsive for a while." Malfoy nudged him slightly, attempting to draw his attention back to the present.

Tom made a noise of acknowledgement before mentally shaking the image of his little waiter— no, not his, he berated himself— from his mind.

But no matter how he tried, he could not. He could not just banish her from his thoughts. He knew a part of him, a rather embarrassingly large part of him enjoyed her company, her passion, her conversations— just her.

And there, tucked away in the recesses of his trunk, lay her damned book— a taunting reminder of her. The temptation to burn it, to obliterate any remnants of her from his life, danced on the edge of his thoughts. He had shoved away, out of sight if only just to save himself the fury, the anger, (the longing).

He wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as him. He hoped she was. She had no right to make him feel this way and get away with it unscathed.

But she was too enticing to give up. He did not know what it was about her. She was a muggle, an ordinary, plain girl working at a forgotten little cafe. Sure, she liked books, but so did a lot of other people. Yes, she was pretty, but so were a lot of other girls. But none could even come close to stirring his emotions as she did.

Perhaps it was the ease with which she conversed with him. Or the entirely too cheery smiles. Or her endearing knitted sweaters— though he secretly favoured the sundresses.

He, of course, knew what it was. He had tried to deny the idea to himself, but there was no escaping it. Tom had never been able to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. From his early childhood, he refused to allow anyone close to him. He never lowered his walls and rejected anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was refreshing with her. He had no cause to uphold a curated facade.

Had she not been a muggle, he would entertain the thought of her bewitching him. He would have been convinced the girl put some spell on him or slipped a potion into his drink.

It was maddening.

She was maddening.

He sighed upon realising that he had spiralled again thinking of her. He needed to return the book, and maybe that would ease his mind. Perhaps once he was rid of her possession, she would not haunt him anymore. (Though he knew he was only trying to reassure himself with the last thought.)

As summer loomed around the corner, it felt both too distant and too imminent, mirroring the paradox of his tangled emotions.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

The sound of her laugh rang out before he could even close the door behind him. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he did not get whiplash. But there she was, his little waiter, chuckling delightfully as some boy spoke lowly from behind the counter. Chuckles escaped her lips, and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to stifle the laughter, her hands deftly at work preparing a drink. Despite her efforts, laughter bubbled forth once more, forcing her to set the cup down to avoid any potential spills.

An immediate surge of anger coursed through him. Who was this boy? What business did have with her? What right did he have to elicit such genuine laughter from her? (Most importantly, how dare she replace him?)

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to gather himself into some semblance of a composed, unaffected man that he most definitely was not at that moment. With a loud, purposeful cough, he sought to catch her attention.

She spun around, the practised smile reserved for customers settling onto her face as she readied herself to serve him. However, the smile swiftly vanished the moment her doe-like eyes locked onto him. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she stared at him, wide eyes roving over his face as if to confirm that he was really standing there, in front of her, and was not a figment of her imagination.

Because despite their last encounter, despite the anger, and the hurt she had felt, she kept hoping he would return. She kept imagining him standing there, with his ridiculously fancy scarf as he spewed out an apology. She had delved so deep into her fantasies involving him that now that he was actually there, she did not what to do or to say. Her tongue was tied, and her brain was fogged. What was she supposed to say?

It seemed he decided to grant her mercy and be the first to break the tense silence.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

He shuffled closer, though his steps were unsure, unlike his usual confident strides that she was used to seeing. “I wished to return your book.” He declared yet made no move to reach into his bag for the said book. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her, her eyes that always seemed to glisten, her hands that were always fidgeting, her little sundress that he was afraid would drive him to insanity, (and her lips that he wished he could press against his own just so he could find out what they felt like, tasted like.) He shoved the last one into a drawer in his mind and locked it away. He could not fantasise about her. She was a muggle. He could not stoop so low as to hold affections for a muggle girl.

“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked tentatively as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, have him spitting more harsh words that would dig deep into her skin and remain there.

“As always.” He replied. Because every book she gave him held another meaning. She was a clever girl, choosing the ones that she knew would have him coming back with a strong debate prepared in his mind. They always seemed to stand on opposite sides of every argument that the books posed, ensuring that their discussion would get heated, exciting, and thrilling.

While Tom vehemently disagreed with her views, he found pleasure in the way her mind worked. He admired her quick-wittedness, her ability to counter every argument he posed. No one else had engaged him in such stimulating conversations. She was a breath of fresh air, a captivating force he wanted to inhale and never release. He yearned to suffocate in the essence of her being, to be consumed and to consume in return. He wanted to own her— that irrational desire to keep her for himself was always there in the deeper parts of his mind that he was scared to venture into.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She responded but he could detect the subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.

He hesitated. “May I have one black coffee?” He was extending an olive branch, and while it was not an outright apology, coming from Tom, it was a whole declaration.

“It’s five minutes until closing time.”

She would not be swayed so easily then.

Fine. Tom thought. He would make her come to her senses.

The boy who he had forgotten was still there suddenly came to stand next to him. Tom eyed him with disdain, his features curling into an unimpressed sneer, raising a lazy brow.

“I’ll help her close up, mate. You can leave now.”

“Daniel, that is not necessary.” She muttered, glancing between the two men nervously. Daniel? Tom clenched his jaw, enraged. In his absence, it seemed she had gotten on first-name basis with a boy. His mouth soured with the taste of betrayal at her blatant ignorance. How could she discard him so easily? Had she not suffered all these months at the mere thought of him? Had he been alone in his suffering?

“No,” Tom stated flatly. “You will leave.” He told the boy then turned to face his waiter. “We will talk.”

“Tom, I do not think—”

He cut her off with a hiss. “It was not a request.”

Daniel seemed wholly displeased. He opened his mouth to argue, but his girl beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daniel. I will see you some other time.”

“Whatever he has to tell you, surely he can say in front of me.”

She shook her head gently, trying to dissuade him. “It’s a matter between him and I. I would rather talk privately.”

Tom looked smug as he faced Daniel again, struggling to contain his smirk. He could see the indignation clear on the boy’s face as his eyes flickered dubiously between her and Tom. He knew the wizard was no ordinary acquaintance of her, he could feel the palpable tension in the air like a wolf.

Tom, of course, wished to push his buttons further, just to have the last word. “You heard her. Leave.”

Daniel scoffed. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He muttered and with one last long look, he squared his shoulders and left the café with as much dignity as his wounded pride could muster.

As the door shut with a final thud, they were left in pregnant silence, both unsure of the dynamics at play between them. The air in the café hung heavy with unspoken tension as if the silence itself had taken on a weight, pressing down on them both. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second echoing in the quiet space.

She was the first to cave. "Well? You wished to talk." Gesturing towards him with a hand expectantly. "Talk."

Tom inhaled sharply, and for the first time in his life, he did not quite know what to say. How to proceed.

"Who is he?" The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.

She raised a brow. "Seriously? After how you walked out of here last time I would think your choice of words would be different."

"Different? I hardly think the question was unfair."

She huffed impatiently, discarding her apron as she turned from him to put everything away for the night. "Of course. How foolish of me to assume that you have no business inquiring about my life when we are not even friends." She chuckled bitterly. "You made the notion quite appalling if memory serves me right. You wish to know who is Daniel? For all you know, he could be my fiancee. Would it matter? No. Because you and I are hardly acquaintances."

An unfamiliar feeling began coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick. She briefly turned to fix him with a pointed glare and froze at the look on his face. The dancing flames of the candles seemed to mirror the flickering emotions in Tom's eyes—flames of irritation, discontent, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Tom could scarcely believe his fate. How was it that he— the most powerful wizard of his generation— had succumbed to the pathetic disease of— what was it? Desire? Lust? Infatuation? Such mundane urges were beneath him, he had no wish to pursue anyone or anything that was not remotely related to his quest for power. Yet there she was. In her infuriating fucking dress and those innocent eyes. Did she even know what sort of turmoil she had caused him?

All of a sudden he felt exhausted, defeated. His shoulders sunk visibly as he ran a hand through his hair. He would use a hundred of her sugar packets in his coffee if it meant she would just grace him with her bubbly smile again and just— just what? Leave him be? He did not want that. Treat him as if nothing had happened? Maybe. Release him from whatever enchantment she put him under? Yes.

"What do you want from me?" He asked at last, frustration clear in his voice.

She regarded him with disbelief as she rounded the counter to stand directly in front of him. "What do I want from you?" She repeated incredulously. "I want an apology! I want an explanation! I want—" she sighed, cutting herself off before she could finish the thought. "You cannot just show up here demanding things and ordering people around after how you treated me last time. If you wish to continue this conversation, you will apologise to me."

"You want me to say sorry?" He took a step towards her.

"Yes!"

"Fuck your apology."

Before she could register what was happening, Tom closed the minute distance between them and caved into his desire. He grabbed her face, fingers threading through her hair, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was not gentle; it was a collision of pent-up tension and bottled-up desires.

Tom's lips moved fervently against hers, pouring his frustration into the act. It was a silent declaration that transcended the boundaries of his complicated inner turmoil. Tom knew that. But he could not pull away from her— not after having tasted how her lips feel like.

Her hands, which had hovered hesitantly in the space between them, found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer.

She felt—tasted like God's favourite nectar, sweet and addictive and he knew he would never get enough of it. She might not have been a witch, but he was bewitched by her.

As they broke apart, breathless, the air between them hung heavy with the residue of their shared kiss. He dared not to ease his hold on her, only stared at her with darkened eyes, taking delight in the way her lips were bruised, and puffy, all because of him. But it was not enough. He needed to mark her for all to see.

He dove into the tender skin of her throat like a man starved, teeth sinking into her flesh with no warning, and a sick sort of satisfaction washed over him at the muffled moan that escaped her mouth. He sucked on the skin until he was sure there would be a purple mark blooming on the spot before running his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. He did not waste any second before moving to mark another spot.

"I do not even know your name." She managed to choke out in between her whimpers, hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, and a particular tug had him growling deep in his throat.

"Tom." He whispered, pulling away from her neck only to return his lips to hers. "Say it. Say my name." He murmured in between the kisses, pushing her back until her back was pressed against the counter. He easily picked her up to place her on the surface, his fingers trailing along her thighs to her knees to nudge them apart so he could stand in between them.

"Tom." She breathed out in a daze, and he smirked in delight.

She was his. He had already branded her, and he would do much more to ensure she knew it was him she belonged to.

He leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "I hope you know there is no going back from this. From me." He whispered, fingers slipping under the strap of her dress and dragging it down her shoulder slowly. "You are my dirty little secret now. Mine."

She shuddered under the weight of his words but he was already snaking his hand around her throat as his lips found home on her own once again.

No going back.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

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storiumemporium · 7 months

Text

Astarion As a Father

Fem!Tav/Reader

I FINALLY GOT A NEW KEYBOARD WITH FULLY FUNCTIONING KEYS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I elected to write about something that's been giving me brainworms for ages, because I'd been talking about it with someone on here awhile ago and it just infested me. Astarion finding out you're pregnant and how he handles fatherhood. (Or, in this case, doesn't at first.) This isn't my best work but I blame it on the fact that I didn't intend for it to be THIS FUCKING LONG okay 😭

But without further ado, daddy Astarion:

Finding out:

When it comes to children, I think Astarion hasn't put much thought into it beyond 'me!? ABSOLUTELY NOT—'

He has no illusions about his state of mind and his faculties, you see. Astarion knows that he's fucked up, he knows that he's a problem, and he's only entirely too confident that any child unfortunately put under his care would likely end up just as damaged as he is, were they to miraculously make it to adulthood. He's just not equipped for it.

And, frankly, Astarion isn't even aware he can have children... That's just, not something he ever thought to question. He's undead, is he not? That should take care of the...fertility question.

Shouldn't it?

Truth be told, Cazador never told him of the possibilities because it was never meant to be a possibility. Astarion was too malnourished, his victims too short lived for anything to ever have come of it. He was supposed to die a sacrifice, not live to carry his own bloodline (hah) onward.

Were you to ever ask him about it, even jokingly over dinner one eve, he'd be very firm in the fact that it's a terrible idea and he'd be entirely unequipped. He would even go so far as to say he's the worst choice out of all of your past companions.

"Me? No. Absolutely not. I'm sure whatever little devil you managed to cook up would be the most charming child Baldur's Gate has ever seen... But even that magical explosive that fancied himself a God would be better suited to fatherhood, darling. I am built for luxury and adventure, nothing else." All bookended by typical Astarion preening.

So when the day comes and you inform him of the little life growing in your womb?

Nope. Not happening, not even a chance of happening.

The denial is strong with this one.

And when I say denial, I mean that Astarion well and truly blots out what you've said from his mind, as if it simply didn't happen at all. You never had the conversation, you never dropped the revelation, there is no child, he is not becoming a father.

It's not a lack of want— though he doesn't realize that yet— it's true, blinding terror. Before it was just a joke, just something for him to brush off with commentary about how terribly he'd do as a parent, better the uncle than anything else. But now it's a reality and to accept what you've said is to accept that he might well and truly destroy a child. But not just any, yours.

The traumas Astarion possesses heap onto his shoulders and slough off plentiful enough to make new oceans of it. Now, not only is he just beginning to regain his own autonomy, he's supposedly being given responsibility over a brand new life?

(It would only make sense for Astarion in retrospect, that the life you willingly sacrificed to nourish and nurture him would in turn allow him to grow a new life within you. The fool had just been too blind to consider it: The way, fresh off your blood, he could pull back from the delicate column of your throat and you would find his cheeks and ears and chest flushed with the loveliest shade of pink, eyes wide and soft and alive. The way his entire body would warm, going from corpse frigid to something just beneath normal. The way his once-still heart would slowly beat again.

He'd even asked you once- curled together on a familiar silken bed, foreheads touching and your hands clasped together between your chests- if you knew what it felt like to be so, so hungry that all you could even think about was about badly you wanted to eat? How food sounded so good that the desire became crossed and instead felt even more painful and nauseating? How it consumed your ability to make rational decisions, denied you the capacity to control your emotions?

He'd told you then, voice tender and timid and weak, that he'd felt like that every single day for two whole centuries, until the night you'd willingly laid down on that cot and put your life in his hands.

It was so simple really, of course you granted him the strength to create life. It was you.)

And of course it comes to a head before there is any chance at recovery. Your body begins to show the changes, you begin to swell, and Astarion only grows more avoidant and flighty. Because now he can't simply wipe the idea from his mind and continue on as if the child doesn't exist, the proof is there every single time he looks at you. He makes it very clear to you that he will not be returning to your side without a confrontation, a very potentially ugly one at that.

And ugly it is, explosive. Astarion hasn't truly had the time to recover from his life under Cazador, and all of those protective traits he grew remain sharp as ever, returning to the surface as if they'd never truly gone away to begin with. He sneers and hisses, tries his best to dig in and hurt you enough to stop poking his tender wounds. Enough to push you away so he can lick his wounds back open. He'll go so far as to accuse you of infidelity, though he regrets the words the moment they leave his lips, it's easier for him to imagine that you simply grew tired of him, that you were weary and longed for the daylight. That you wanted someone who could hold you beneath the sun, unlike him.

How you respond to this is entirely up to you, but just shy of throwing something truly despicable back into his face, such as Cazador, Astarion will apologize... eventually. If you remain stalwart and patient, if you have it in you to recognize that he doesn't mean his words, that he's barbing you with intent, Astarion will break down in that very same argument, his angry and accusatory rant will dissolve into an admission of deep insecurity and deeper terror.

But if you respond with anger? Justifiable, and Astarion knows that even in the moment as it's happening, but emotions rule him far more than he'd ever care to admit, and he will dig in and relish the reaction he's managed to draw from you. He will bristle and bite back until suspicion and bitterness fully claims his heart, and he aborts the conversation to hide in the shadows.

Astarion will wait until nightfall, until his freedom calls for him. The one thing that always manages to clear his head, even when you prove to be the cause of his muddying. It's a reminder, every time he steps into the cool and dark of Baldur's Gate, that Cazador is dead and he is a free man. That he can go where he chooses and when he chooses to, and not only that no one can stop him, but that you wouldn't even want to stop him.

And that truth is always what brings Astarion home.

Under the distant lonely stars and that cold moon, he has to remember that time and again you have let him. You have accepted him, you have not fought him on anything shy of a horrible mistake he wanted to make in a moment of weakness and hysteria. You have accepted all his deepest and ugliest wounds and kissed them like they were freckles to pour affection on. You fought Cazador for him, you defended him from your own friends. You even- at times- tested your own morals for him.

You wouldn't betray him, and Astarion knows he can't betray you.

Astarion would return to you late, curling into bed at your side, his eyes would not meet you, and his apology would come in the form of a simple confession. "I am... afraid. I am afraid."

Astarion wouldn't blame you if you don't forgive him immediately for his transgressions, he was cruel and you were vulnerable. But even then you'll find that your love doesn't abandon you again. He accepts- however frightened- that what you've said is true and is coming, and he must accept it. Mind you, it won't be perfect and it won't be romantic. Astarion doesn't know the intricacies of handling a pregnant woman, he's hardly tactful beyond his well honed and flirtatious lines. He genuinely loves you, but he's going to come pre-equipped as father material.

You need something? He'll get it with minimal complaint (but never none, you'd sooner get him to dye his hair black than cease complaining for the sake of it), he won't begrudge you your mood swings though he might be inclined to poke fun at you ever so often. And he will panic when you burst into tears for seemingly no reason, and no- time doesn't make him adjust, he will panic just as much the thousandth time as the first.

However, if it's any consolation. The moment your child enters the world, Astarion is a changed man.

When You Go Into Labor:

Astarion did the honors of informing all of your friends about your pregnancy, once he came to terms with it. And believe me when I say it is extravagant. The stationery and grandiose script that Astarion wields when informing everyone that you were expecting better fits a wedding invitation than it does... well. Very elegantly explaining that Astarion had accidentally knocked you up.

You can tell from the splotchy stains addressed to you from Wyll and Karlach that one of them had been crying when penning the message, Astarion has coin on Wyll, and you on Karlach. Lae'zel never responds to begin with and you know for a fact the Githyanki's response will likely come in the form of her simply showing up one of these days, unprompted. Jaheira personally and rather frequently visits as well, she becomes a sort of bastion as nerves take you over, confident and calm as she is. Halsin's "letter" arrives late, rather because alongside his letter is several little carved animals for the child's room, and mentions of a quilt he intends to bring along when next he visits. Shadowheart's letter, while congratulatory, contains an air of interrogation strung all about it, all aimed with pinpoint precision at the man responsible for your pregnancy and dripping with sarcasm.

Gale's letter is seven pages long, comes with a violet hued wax stamp, and multiple different inks in the most lavish hand he can manage. You daresay he's competing with Astarion. However, surprisingly, Gale's seems to be the most... helpful of them all? It wasn't your intent, you simply wanted your dear friend to join you in celebration, and yet Gale goes on to inform you that upon reading the letter he'd become a madman in pursuit of knowledge on pregnancy and giving birth. He admits that this wasn't a particularly fruitful endeavor, as he's rather confident that you're not a gnoll, troll, cambion, succubus, or any other variety of strange creature with strange metrics of procreation. Still, Gale directs the latter portion of his letter to Astarion quite pointedly, informing him of bookshops around Baldur's Gate where he might have more success.

Astarion scoffs, but you don't miss the way his fingers twitch and flex.

After the hilarity of this is resolved and you just begin to believe that peace might return to your soft little home in the city, the first of your companions begin to arrive.

This continues on for the next week or so, without you ever knowing that this had been planned- and without knowing that Astarion had been the one to plan it. It's a furthering of his apology, of his guilt over the way he'd treated you. Again, Astarion has no illusions of the kind of man he is, and the fact he's not nurturing in the sort of ways that you need- but he's not completely stupid and he knows you're scared. So... bring the cavalry, darling.

Eventually your entire home has become a crash pad for all of your dearest friends, your family, and you only grow suspicious of Astarion's hand in this chaos because he's surprisingly amicable to having his peace so thoroughly disturbed by 'everyone and their mother'. Truly, he manages to bite his tongue some of the time about them trampling his fine rugs and scratching the plates. He even seems... wistful about it. As nostalgic as you openly are at seeing all of these beloved people under one roof again.

Nights are filled with raucous laughter, clattering utensils, a table so thoroughly overcrowded that people are playfully shouldering each other out of the way for a chance to get at their own food. And Astarion stays faithful at your side, his hand perpetually clasped gently around yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Days are never spent alone, no matter what it is you need to do, someone (if not everyone) is following you along. And though Astarion feels his heart ache that he can't join you, he'll be glad to know you're safe.

Besides, your companions are likely all taking turns tormenting, testing, and relentlessly teasing him about what is to come. He has his own hands full. He's starting to regret being such a generous lover.

And then your water breaks in the dead of night.

Remember how I said Astarion was far from perfect? This would be one of those moments that it really shines.

Not that he's particularly terrible, no. He's not actively cruel toward you, and certainly not dismissive, it's somewhat the opposite. Halsin and Jaheira end up the ones helping you, the only two with some iota of understanding on what was happening and what to do with and for you. The others, less experienced in "mundane" medical situations will take up the second most important role.

Prevent Astarion from catastrophizing any more than he already has been.

Karlach has been the sole force capable of keeping Astarion away from the wine, typically bear hugging him away from your cellar while Wyll tries his best to talk your lover down from a total nervous breakdown. Of which he nearly has, several times. It's not even the sight of you, specifically. He's okay with being at your side and holding your hand, in trying his best to provide comforting words that aren't laced with sarcasm for once. But the sounds you make, that's what breaks him. Astarion isn't good at hearing you scream from the pain, he isn't good at the choked sobs or your heavy breaths. The way you sound like you're struggling against death. It makes him want to crawl out of his own skin, fight assailants that aren't there.

And for a few hours there, in the midst of your labors and your exhausted, pained little cries, Astarion isn't sure how he can love the child causing you this much suffering. It's not as if Astarion was an altruistic man on his best days, as if he were particularly reasonable when it came to you. You've both come to a mutual understanding that were something to happen to you, no morals would be involved in the things Astarion would do to rectify it.

And now, here you are, suffering. Astarion isn't supposed to do a thing about it? He's supposed to be- what, overjoyed by it? It infuriates him, he's truly prepared to have a grudge match with an infant.

Until, as the sun is starting to creep up on a brand new day, it's no longer your screams that meet the air, but another's entirely. Tiny but powerful, high pitched little squeals of fury and distress. And your laughter, disbelieving, soft, adoring already.

Astarion has a daughter.

I go with the HC that Astarion had eyes like honey once, and that his daughter takes after that, along with the delicate points of his ears mirrored in her own. She's small, so small, but healthy and already feisty, wiggling as best as her tiny body can whilst still too heavy for her to lift and move.

You're the first to hold her of course, and Astarion will be at his knees beside the two of you. The expression he wears is something you've seen maybe two or three other times in the entire time you've known him- moments when you know he expected everything to fall apart, moments where he couldn't believe that the world was so good.

It's then that you can breathe for the first time, and know that both of your darlings will be just fine.

Once he does hold her, he's not inclined to let her go. Even once you ask to have her back, he'll simply move you into his lap, so that he can hold you both. It's better that way anyhow, having both of his girls in his arms. And Astarion will repeat again and again how stunned he is, he just can't believe it. Cannot fathom any of it. I think he's the type to say that he's speechless and then spend the next five minutes doing nothing but talking. It's nervous rambling, but still, speechless is not the term I would use to describe him here.

Astarion With Your Baby:

Once your little darling is actually in your lives, you get to see how hilariously unorthodox Astarion is with children. Especially his own. Astarion doesn't baby-talk like you or the rest of your companions, he speaks in the same exact tones as he would a grown woman. In fact, for the first few days you're adjusting to a child in your life, you sometimes mistake Astarion as speaking with an unexpected guest, only to round the corner and find him lightheartedly chastising his own daughter for her poor nappy conduct as he wrinkles his nose and changes her diaper.

He's disgusted by that, by the way. Absolutely hates it, complains loudly about having to do it. But if you so much as try to stand to help he'll force you back down onto your chair or the couch, something something not useless something something already up, darling. It's as if Astarion is simply allergic to admitting that while it makes him nauseous, he wants to care for his daughter. He wants you to rest.

And yes, Astarion is the type of father that thinks all other children are hideous little fecal beasts and his daughter is the only gorgeous little angel in the entire world. Perfect, can do no wrong. He tells her as such too, in the same deadpan voice he always uses, wiggling and stretching her legs.

"You know, darling. You should count your blessings, you're the only child I've ever seen that doesn't look like some sort of hideous, deformed bean. I can't be surprised though, with as gorgeous as your parents are." And though he rolls his eyes, he's unable to contain the grin that shows his teeth when she coos and squeaks at the sound of his voice.

And yes. Astarion dresses up with his child.

The older she gets the more he does it, little matching outfits and ribbons. Nothing that she would choke on, were she to get her mitts on it. (You had to be the one to tell him no, at first. He did throw a little fit about it, just a small one).

But it's not all lighthearted, good or bad.

There are times where Astarion won't touch your daughter, won't be alone with her in the same room. He fears it, he'll eventually tell you. His... affliction came with it's dangers, always. But he's always trusted that you could defend yourself, and you're big enough that he can't just kill you between one blink and the next. The same can't be said of your darling girl. She's so small and so fragile that, were he to lose even the slightest grip of himself around her, it could cost her her life. No doubt it would traumatize her for life, regardless.

You watch it, too. The way it pinches his brows and makes him wipe his palms against his pants as if he were sweating. Nervous habits creeping up his throat and causing him to pace about like a caged animal. It's during these times that you have to bring your daughter to him. Gently place her in his arms and remind him that he's loved her from the moment he saw her. And where once he held trepidation and queasiness at the prospect of fatherhood, you can see him care so much about this little bundle that he looks sick from it. A vulnerability he can't mask.

And of course, there are times he nearly weeps for other reasons.

Like when she takes her first steps, and immediately tries to run for him.

And Astarion knows he should let her tumble, that it's good to let her fall and get back up again, but the moment her unsteady feet cause her to careen she's safe in his arms. Little kisses peppered against her giggly face. And he'll tuck away against her to try and get his bearings back, but she'll pat his cheeks and tug his ears- and you'll have to distract her with a toy while he hiccups and sniffles down his need to cry. He wasn't ready for her to grow so fast, gone is the tiny bundle that could fit perfectly in one arm, now she's walking. How long before she's dating? Gods, should he be preparing for betrothal requests!?

"I want to be mortal." He whispers to you, one night. She's tucked between your bodies, sound asleep and wiggling from time to time. This is one of the rare moments you and your love can speak to each other uninterrupted, in the tranquility of the dark hugging around you.

It's strange that he brings this up now, you'd spoken about it several times since the Elder Brain had been taken down... But in the past few years since your daughter had been born, all of that had fallen to the wayside. "What brings this to mind, Starling?"

Your hand comes to cup his throat, as you watch and feel him work as if he were swallowing a stone. "I don't want to outlive this."

It's hard to blink the tears from your eyes, understanding the implications.

Were he actually two hundred years old, Astarion wouldn't survive well past the existence of his sweet little family.

He'd been more melancholy the past few weeks, after realizing that your daughter was beginning to function on her own. She was walking, grabbing things, talking in rudimentary sentences. She was even beginning to call him pa.

He'd cried, at that.

"I'll forget," his voice draws you out from that brief reverie. The distress is palpable, but runs low like the tide before a storm. "I'll forget all of this. I don't want to know what I'll become, then."

And when you run your hands up into his hair, to scratch lovingly along his scalp, he doesn't hide the shiver or the way his face presses against your palm, cold and smooth on your skin.

"We'll find a way, Astarion. I haven't given up yet... We just- she's too young."

It's both a strain and a relief, to know that. To be reminded that your daughter is still so small, that he won't be losing her- or you- any time soon. There's still time.

Astarion With Your Teen:

Arguably this is the best time between your daughter and him. It's simultaneously a surprise and yet- not at all? He's more like her confidante and best friend than strictly a father. He isn't one for harsh curfews and strict ways of dress- rather, he's the one she comes to when she's made some sort of mistake. Or when she's angry about something.

In general, Astarion withholds judgement of her, for better or worse. The unintended consequence is that you might become more of her enemy than Astarion, because he's less inclined to punish for questionable behaviors.

It's not that he's afraid of angering her or dealing with push back- rather that Astarion's frame of reference for what constitutes a mistake is ah... rather broken. Even in the beginnings of your relationship with Astarion, the mistakes that would anger him constituted dropping an entire building on his head or... risking being turned into a Mindflayer to help some old lady find her cat.

Not feeling up cute boys in alleyways.

As a result you'll likely need to have a few conversations with him about not being so lenient on her, because she needs to have structure in how to behave. Stealing things is in fact, not okay! And Astarion will listen, but he's always going to be a bit more of a friend than anything else.

A total gossip with her, too. You'll catch them huddled around the dinner table at night, both with a glass of wine (this was an argument that Astarion ended up winning, she's allowed one glass a week, but that's all!) in hand shittalking a storm together. Astarion has become the Baldur's Gate equivalent of a PTA mom, he shows up as stylishly as he can and beefs with the parents of whichever children have upset his daughter the most. And then when they get home they just toss it back and forth together.

But I want to stress, just because he doesn't punish her doesn't mean he isn't protective of her. Astarion is more protective than you are.

Once she begins dating you'll find yourself home alone semi-frequently, because Astarion will play the supportive, loving father part when she leaves- and immediately follow her out into the dark. He's had centuries to know what dangers lurk around every corner, and foggy memories of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time before his nightmare began. He won't allow that to happen with his girl.

And it's funny, because Astarion will talk mad shit to himself while he does it. Logically he knows that she's with some teenage boy or girl, but it doesn't stop the petty, emotional side of him from rolling his eyes and sneering at the cheap one-liners and the dumb tactics that this would-be charmer utilizes. Really, taking her into dark alleys to get her to tuck into you? Going to a totally secret spot that Astarion has known about for at least a hundred and sixty years? Get real, kid.

And you have to try valiantly not to laugh when he comes home, huffing and puffing about it. Because you will hear every single petty thought he had the entire time, and you will know that he looks like a petulant child. It's very cute.

All in all, I think Astarion is a reckless, chaotic, petty father. And one that loves his child so, so much. To the point of ruin, to the point where suddenly staying in one place doesn't seem so bad, just so she can have friends. Helping people isn't the worst, just so she can know there are heroes in the world. Suddenly he's learning to bandage scrapes and kiss bruises, and having tears and snot on his clothes mean nothing compared to the grief of the one shedding them. He loves her in ways he didn't anticipate he ever could. Enough to know all of her ticks and secrets, to know when she's lying through her teeth and when she's being devastatingly obvious.

Learning to cook even when he can't eat, listening to her spin a story with a straight face and then- as she's stepping out the door- telling her to be careful with that boy and listening to her groan loudly as the door slams shut, a mischievous smile on his face.

Holding you and dancing you around, cradling you close with all the tenderness he has in the whole of his body and soul. Kissing you, calling you the mother of his child, thanking you for giving him something he didn't even know he'd wanted. A family.

Small and odd, but his.

#astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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mythrilthread · 2 months

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My magnum opus, the jewel of my Binderary round-up, the result of four months of hard work (that is to say, a lot of force applied over distance), the project affectionately known as The Motherfuckers (because it was rather unclear if I was going to finish these books or if they were going to be the end of me).

Force over Distance by cleanwhiteroom. It is currently also on AO3.

I was first introduced to this incredible story by a dear friend, who first sold me on actually watching SGU, and then said that they remember this fic since like 2011, which is always a promising sign. I went digging and found out I was in luck - the story was being rewritten and reuploaded on the author's blog. The next two weeks are described by the same friend as "one of the scariest moments in our cohabitation" as I'd spent literally every waking moment injecting the story directly into my eyeballs, and let me tell you, I'd not been doing a lot of sleeping at that time.

Then I gathered up my courage and reached out to CWR re: my burning desire to bind this story. And the rest, well. Let's dig into it, shall we?

This was my first time typesetting 540k words. Considering I tend to prefer larger font sizes for increased legibility, it was immediately obvious that this was going to be a multivolume project. I settled on three, as it's the relationship between three individuals that forms the core of the story.

I also knew I wanted to keep the typeset in black and white, but play around with light and dark a lot. So I did. One of the first design idea I actually had was the way I wanted to handle projected speech. Mental link between Young, Rush and Destiny is THE most vital part of the story, and I wanted to make it immediatly obvious. I also wanted to be able to take one glance at the page and tell how much of the action is actually just two guys staring each other down :) Hence the blackout effect of thoughts being represented as light over darkness.

I also wanted to preserve as much of my reading experience as possible. So I saved all the chapter quotes/summaries in the TOC, and hid the chapter content warnings in the frame of the gate that marks the beginning of each chapter. For most of the chapter the warnings stay the same, so after a while you stop really noticing them, but then you open a new chapter and see that the familiar shape of the words has changed, and get this UH-OH feeling. Which, I think is very much how it works in my design, because when the warnings change there's usually another line of text added.

For flashbacks and dream sequences I switched from italics to a lighter shade of gray. I woudn't say it's more legible per say, but it's in keeping with the overall light/dark theme.

There are instances of people using handwritten notes in the story. I collected more than a dozen of assorted handwriting fonts, with each character having their own "handwriting". So when, for example, someone begins writing in someone else's hand, you immediately know it.

The most insane, labor-intensive part of the typeset, however, was the way I decided to handle the Ancient translations. CWR's gone through the trouble of setting up hover-to-discover for it, which gives you a very different reading experience than, say, having the translations in the endnotes. So, naturally, I said to myself that I want to replicate that, and footnotes just won't do the trick. So. Every instance of Ancient in the text has an underlay of light gray Ancient script. And an OVERLAY of paper vellum with the translation printed in blue. Now, not to toot my own horn too much, but if looks SICK AS FUCK. You also MAYBE SHOULD NOT LIVE LIKE THIS. For the two copies of this work I had to cut up 10 sheets of vellum into strips, and then spent from 20 minutes to an hour per volume tipping the strips in their proper places. I then had to wear kinetic tape on both my hands to help with the joint pain. (It was worth it.)

Now for the title spread. It is also paper vellum that you see as soon as you turn the first page (the half-title), and see it covering the title of the book and author's name. And then you turn it. And the shields sing the matter wave of Destiny through the black. And yeah, I think that's very, very clever of me, actually.

Then, of course, were the endpapers. All 12 of them are unique abstract paintings done on black cardstock by hand with brush pens and correction tape, I scanned a sample of each set for posterity. All of them are my interpretations of characters' midscapes. For volume 1 I went with the fire wind of Rush's thoughts. Volume 2 was for Young, and I went for the reverse blackout poetry effect (because for all the mental talking they do, the unprojected thoughts are opaque to their counterparts) and all the loops, hairpins and blocks he does. Volume 3 is for the combination - Rush's fire wind, changing its color to match the circuitry pattern of Destiny's AI.

The rest, in comparison, is easy. All volumes are stitched with 3 strands of embroidery floss, a combination of black, blue and silvery-gray. The French double-core endbands are sewn in the same color scheme (though with a different shade of blue and gray switched for white for added contrast). The edges are painted and splattered to look like space.

The covers feature my (signature at this point, I guess) half-cloth river pattern, with the base being dark blue linen and the printed parts being Spitzer telescope images of the W51 star forge, Jack-O'-Lantern Nebula and the Eagle Nebula (courtesy of NASA), waxed by hand for added sheen. The spines are foiled in silver with a foil quill.

Each set is 5 pound of solid hand-crafted book, with one set being my personal copy, and the other sent as a gift to the author.

And that's it, folks! This has been an incredible project to work on, and I'm very proud of what I achieved with it.

#mythril thread books #bookbinding #ficbinding #fanbinding #binderary2024 #stargate universe #sgu #force over distance #stargate

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bunnys-kisses · 2 months

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and there's nothing daddy can do about it.

price tries to gather intel on your father, a well known arms dealer. price didn't expect for his daughter to be such a good lay. but price has further intentions with you.

xoxo, bunny

price found you by accident. you were assisting your father and price thought you were the most precious thing ever. the plan to gather intel changed when he got a glimpse of your cotton panties where the wind on the tar mat blew up your skirt. fuck the old man, he was going to get everything he wanted through you.

it had been a while since price had really flirted with a woman. with missions and paperwork up to his neck, he didn't have time to bed a pretty birdie. but he didn't expect for it to be so easy.

oh, he realized. you liked older men, you liked when they gave you attention.

"you like that, baby girl?" he asked as he practically folded you in half to get access to your sweet pussy, "who would've thought that the big boss man would have such a lovely daughter." he rubbed his hard cock up against your slit. he groaned.

you were blushing and had your hands covering your face. your heart was racing with anticipation as he eventually sunk his thick cock into you. you arched your back and made such a sweet noise that price almost bottomed out into you that moment.

"such a good girl for me. lettin' the tip just press up against your sweet little cervix." price purred as he held your hips and started to thrust.

you could feel your heart in your throat and your stomach in your chest as he practically pushed your organs up with each heavy thrust. you whimpered like the sweetest little kitten. he loved when you made those sweet noises.

price had hair all over and a bit of chub at his waist. he was domineering over your smaller body. even if you had your own chub on your hips, he was still so much broader.

he just thought you were so tiny, yet you took his cock like a champ. he was bent over you as he gripped your hips, you knew there were going to be marks. his breathing became heavier and he pulled his hand away to wipe the sweat from his brow.

you felt hot all over as he bulled your pussy like a man on a mission. you laid under him so nicely, singing your sweet song of moans as he made sure that he was going to finish inside of you.

'please, john!" you whimpered as you clutched on your knees to keep yourself upright. you swore you felt his cock in your stomach, bruising it as he did your pussy.

you were often left a nice shade of purple when he was done. your hips, you ass, even your throat was something a sweet wine color. you moaned and arched your back as you felt the pleasure course through your veins. your heart hammered and you thought you were going to have a heart attack.

"pretty girl." he purred, "only i know how to make you feel this good. fuck, i'm goin' to knock you up, love." he chuckled as he continued to thrust in and out of you.

you kicked your legs out as you felt the heat of pleasure bloom in your stomach. you want to please price, you wanted him more than you needed air to breathe.

his thrusts were erratic and quick, too drunk off your pussy to care. he was a man on a mission and the details of it didn't matter, as long as he got results. and that meant a round belly and his little brat kicking in there.

he reached for you hair and pulled on it as he put his entire self into his movements. he was getting close, he could feel the tightness in him. he loomed over you and sloppily made out with you as he battered your sweet womb.

"my girl." he said, "my girl havin' a few brats and livin' away from this shit. now be a good girl and make sure you take every drop. i'd hate to find other ways to keep it all in." he chuckled, he could see the haze in your eyes from the pleasure. he pressed up against you and held your face and hair, he wanted to see you climax.

your eyes almost rolled out of your head when you came. now in a dazed state, he used your body like a toy. he purred, "yeah, girl. that's it. be good for me, put that feminine biology to use and make me a fuckin' kid." your pussy was so nice around his hard cock, he knew he ruined other men for you. but that didn't matter now, you were going to be his wife and mother to his children.

he yanked your hair once more and your eyes met, even if your vision wasn't the most focused. he chuckled darkly, "you will bear my kids, i’ll make you my pretty wife wife and your daddy won’t be able to do a damn thing about it." then gave one last hard thrust as he came inside of you.

you whimpered once more and arched your back. price let go and patted you on the face. you felt en emptiness in your brain. don't worry about ever having a thought again, just give price everything he needs to know and you'll have a happy little life as his bride. <3

#bunny writes #cod price #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #captain john price #john price #john price smut #john price x reader #reader insert #captain john price smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #cod smut #breeding k1nk #captain price

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userlando · 9 months

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sweetener — oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader [4.2k] summary: you'd shown him a picture of a couple on a date, painting. it was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that oscar had apparently stored away in his mind. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, semi-public sex, cunnilingus. a/n: hellooo my loves, this was completely inspired by the mclaren painting video and I just couldn't resist writing it. it was time that oscar made his debut on my blog so hope you enjoy this. as always, don't be a ghost reader bc i'd love to hear your thoughts!! happy reading xx

Your boyfriend was a closeted romantic but not many people believed it. He was sarcastic, funny and way more intelligent than people gave him credit for and your friends had warned you of lovebombing when you first started dating.

They couldn’t believe that a man his age could be so sweet, doting on you from the start and planning your dates whereas, in the past, you’d handle everything, secretly wishing that the men on Tinder could - for once - plan nice dates that didn’t involve a couch, a movie and minimal dry conversation that lead nowhere.

It was on your fourth date, when Oscar had taken you for a fun night of mini golf that you realised that you’d quite literally struck gold. And when he’d wrapped his arms around you to help you put and kissed your cheek, you knew you were screwed.

Summer break had just begun but you were still swamped with work, sitting in online meetings until your back turned sore and Oscar kept his distance out of respect for exactly two days before he grew bored and restless. He had your full attention during nights, where you’d go for late night drives to get your usual soggy fries and milkshakes, but he saw how you were growing more and more agitated from work and he couldn’t have that.

It was a bit tricky to set up a picnic basket, packing everything up neatly for a drive out to a meadow he’d come across a few months ago. It was something he’d randomly planned - and scrolled through Pinterest for, and the look on your face was worth all the trouble and then some.

You’d cupped his face in your hands and pressed smacking kisses to his face in thanks, squealing in barely contained excitement as you skipped into your room to change out of your sweats. And when you’d emerged… Oscar had half a mind to throw the plans to the wind, restraining his urge to grab you by the hips and guide you back into the bedroom.

He couldn’t stop staring as you walked in front of him, watching the way your legs moved as you took large and calculated steps over the tall grass. You were surrounded by beautiful flowers and greenery, but his eyes were focused on you and the flowy dress you wore. The hem of it was kissing the tops of your thighs, beautiful and flattering on you but then again, everything you wore was. It must’ve been new, because Oscar would have definitely remembered a dress like that.

You turned your head to shoot him a smile over your shoulder that was brighter than the sun above and Oscar stumbled a little, causing you to giggle as you stuck your hand back for him to grab. The warmth of your palm made him squeeze it in his grasp, taking a few big strides to fall into step with you.

“This is beautiful.” You mused, voice laced with wonder and he was nodding, even though his eyes were trained on you.

“Yeah.” He murmured, sounding faraway and you shot him an amused glance that Oscar absolutely loved.

The furrowed brows and teasing tilt of his lips would be the death of him. He glanced up, scanning his eyes for a good place to spread out the blanket and he made a pleased sound in his throat when he spotted a hidden spot beneath a gigantic tree. It had plenty of shade and he thanked his lucky stars because he’d forgotten sunscreen and the sun was brutal today. He’d hate to see you get sunburnt. Although he never did mind rubbing you down with aloe.

Oscar cleared his throat when his mind started wandering, ridding himself of his thoughts as he steered the both of you to the spot under the tree. You followed him, humming a song quietly and he couldn’t help but smile at the serenity of it all.

You took a few moments to spread out the blanket, toeing off your shoes and settling down with a sigh. Oscar popped open the lid of the basket and reached inside for the bottle of Orangina and champagne.

“Ah, fuck.” He swore as he peered down into the basket, making you frown in concern.

“What?” You scooted closer, craning your neck to see what he was looking at.

“I forgot the glasses.” He looked up at you, giving you an apologetic smile that you were quick to wave off. “Sorry, love.”

“That’s fine.” You made grabby hands at the bottle, watching him pass it over with a laugh. “We’ll just have to share.”

You unscrewed the cork and took a sip of the cold juice while Oscar started unpacking the vast array of food. He’d really gone all out, picking out your favourite pastries and fruits and something about that made you very emotional. Oscar glanced up at you, stopping his movements when he noticed the shine in your eyes and your wobbly lip.

“Baby.” His voice made you look up, and he laughed when you smiled tearfully at him, like you were trying to reassure him that your tears were out of joy rather than sadness. Oscar cupped your cheek and pulled you forward for a kiss. “Why have you gone all teary on me?”

You gave a heavy sigh that made Oscar’s heart clench painfully in adoration. “It’s just… You’re so sweet to me. I love this. I love you.”

Oscar watched you scoot closer, pressing his face into your hair when you cuddled into his side. You smelled like flowers and he couldn’t resist burying his nose in your hair because that scent was absolutely intoxicating. It was everywhere at home. On the pillows, towels and blankets and it always pulled the same reaction from him.

Sometimes you’d pack his suitcases for him, not because he asked or demanded you, but because your heart was just that kind and you’d spritz your perfume on his clothes because you knew that he secretly loved that. And he did. Nothing made him feel more homesick and loved than when he flipped the lid of his suitcase open and was hit with your scent.

“I guess you’re gonna love me even more.” He said and that prompted you to look up, pulling away from his embrace slightly. The curious tilt of your eyebrows made him smile. “Here.”

He handed you the small container of washed and fresh strawberries before turning to his bag to rifle through it. You gave a laugh of surprise when you realised what he was pulling out, eyeing the paintbrushes and tubes of colours.

You couldn’t believe that he remembered. The one time you’d tilted your phone towards him when you were sat on the sofa, showing him a picture of a random couple painting during a date. It was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that Oscar had apparently stored away in his mind.

“I suck at painting.” He said and it made you laugh. “But I thought this could be fun.”

“Oscar!” You didn’t even know what to say, staring wide eyed and speechless at the things sitting between you before moving your eyes up to him.

His cheeks went pink, bashful smile stretching his lips and you got up on your knees to smack a kiss to his mouth that he laughed into.

“We’re going to outshine Monet.” You said determinedly, sitting back down and grabbing your canvas.

The evening went on as the both of you painted, not very well but it was fun and prompted several fits of laughter from the both of you as you took occasional peeks at your paintings.

One too many gulps of fizzy champagne later and sandwiches eaten, the both of you found yourselves almost done with your pieces. You were sitting cross legged, face pinched in concentration and Oscar couldn’t help but sneak a picture on his phone; finding the sight of you all too endearing. You had a little paint on your cheek that you weren’t aware of, lips slightly pursed and Oscar couldn’t for the life of him stop staring at your exposed thighs. Your dress had ridden up, giving him an amazing view of your legs and he had to physically flex his fingers to keep from grabbing at them.

He cleared his throat and looked away, glancing up at the sky squinting. The sun had found its way behind some very dark clouds and he silently cursed the weather app for giving him false information because it looked like it was definitely going to rain.

“I think it’s gonna rain.” He said, absentmindedly voicing his thoughts out loud and you looked at him before glancing up at the sky.

You scrunched your nose before your face transformed into a smile that made your boyfriend’s heart skip. He squirmed.

“That’s okay.” You said slowly and put down your brush. “Because I... Am done.”

“Let’s see it then.” He grinned at the way you grabbed both sides of your canvas, revealing the other side slowly.

The splash of colour was pretty and it wasn’t hard to make out what it was supposed to be. A beach with a colourful sky consisting of pink, orange and even subtle red. Oscar nodded his head, visibly impressed and you smiled.

“That’s gorgeous, I don’t even wanna show mine now.” He said and you frowned.

“But I wanna see it.” You said, pushing yourself up a little to strain your neck.

But Oscar was quick to hide his canvas close to his chest which made you pout.

“No, it’s hideous.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes.

“Oscar!” You whined and it almost made him cave.

You realised fairly quickly that he wasn’t going to concede, so you put your canvas down and crawled on all fours over to his side of the blanket. He leaned back, smiling at your giggles until you were on top of him; The awkward angle sending you both into a fit of laughter.

“Is that a duck?” Your voice went high with laughter and Oscar sucked his cheeks into his mouth when you grabbed his canvas and took a look at it. “It’s so cute!”

“It’s —“

“It even has lashes!” You squinted your eyes at it and Oscar frowned.

“That’s eyebrows.” He said and you looked up at him, an apologetic smile playing on your lips.

“Oh.” You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth in a poor attempt to hide your laughter, but Oscar raised his eyebrows in mock insult and it made it harder. “Sorry.”

He wanted to open his mouth and feign insult, but the way you were chewing on your lip made it very hard to concentrate and he found himself getting distracted easier than he’d like to admit. The shine your saliva left had him craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, revelling in your surprised moan that you breathed into his mouth.

You tasted of fizzy champagne and sweet fruits, Oscar licking into your mouth and it made you squirm in his lap. He kissed you until you were out of breath, grabbing your sides and rolling the both of you around until he was straddling you. The squeal that left your lips made you both laugh and it didn’t stop when he struggled to get his canvas out from between your chests to throw it to the side. You blinked up at him slowly, and it was like he was stuck in a trance.

The first drop on your forehead was almost comical, and you thought that maybe he’d accidentally drooled on you for a second. But Oscar glanced up with a frown, just in time for the skies to open up and begin drizzling. Luckily, you found yourselves under the tree and that’s what made it so easy to dismiss the rain, grabbing the collar of Oscar’s shirt to redirect his gaze back to you.

“We’re gonna get si—“ He was interrupted by your lips, a small mmpfh being punched out of his chest and you were quick to swallow the noise, kissing him until the pink in his cheeks deepened to a pretty shade of red and his lips were kissed raw.

You loved the way he looked after a make out, with the dark eyes and the smatter of colour on his cheeks. It drove you further to mess his hair up and have him grinding down into you.

He wasn’t doing it yet, hips carefully held above you so he wouldn’t crush you with his weight but you wanted it. Craved it, even.

The rush of water coming down from the sky turned the air damp, clamming your already heated skin up and making it sticky. You let your thighs fall open in an obvious invitation, one that Oscar was too happy to accept when he slotted his hips against yours; Successfully pressing your crotches together. The weight of him was delicious, sparking something hot in your body that had you wrapping your legs around him to keep him close. You felt your foot knock something over, but you were too preoccupied with the way his lips were wandering to actually care.

He kissed wetly down your jaw, sucking insistently on your sensitive skin under your earlobe. You keened, hips jumping up into his in an attempt to grind your centre against him and Oscar quickly met you halfway, the hard bulge of him setting fireworks off in your chest.

“Oscar, please.” You gasped when he bit your throat. He hummed in acknowledgement, low and breathless. “Need more.”

He detached his lips from your neck, glancing around as if he was keeping an eye out for someone and you took that moment to take in his face. The pout of his lips and the width of his neck that you were dying to mark up with your mouth. The sight of it always did things to you, so much so that there had been several occasions where you went a little overboard and sent him on his way to the paddock with a bruised up neck and a blush dancing on his cheeks. He never really protested though, so you didn’t stop.

“Out here?” He asked, looking down at you and you nodded shyly. “Really?”

You turned your head to stare off into the distance, thinking that there was no way anyone was frolicking anywhere near you in this weather. And if there were people around, it was almost impassible to spot the two of you with the way the rain was coming down incredibly heavy. It was hard to see past a few metres and the grass was high enough to hide you both from any prying eyes.

In the meantime your thoughts had calculated the very low risk of being caught, Oscar had begun his ascent up your thighs with his hands, pulling the hem of your dress up in the process. His eyes were fastened on you, wanting to catch every micro expression on your face the higher he went up.

Your mouth opened in a quiet exhale when his hands touched your clothed pussy, thighs trembling when his finger ran over the nub of your clit. Oscar’s heart was beating fast, emotion and adoration gripping his heart in a vice when you looked up at him through your lashes.

You hadn’t dated for that long, but he’d memorised every single expression on your face, along with their meaning. He prided himself in how well he could read you, and he felt just a little smug whenever you brought it up. There was always a bit of wonder in your eyes and surprise in your voice when he said something that you didn’t expect him to remember. Like you never had anyone in your life to pay close attention to you, or even care to and it made him sad because how could they not?

You had somehow managed to become his entire world in the span of a few months and he intended to keep you happier than the average person.

That’s why he didn’t wait to pull your panties to the side when you whispered a small plea, sounding a lot like please, fully zoned in on making you feel as good as possible.

“Oh, shit.” You swore and Oscar hid a smile by hanging his head to stare between your legs instead.

You never swore in daily conversation, but boy, did you turn into a sailor when he was between your thighs.

“My pretty girl.” He complimented you, voice quiet but loud enough to overpower the sound of the downpour.

You smiled shakily, lip wobbling in pure pleasure when he swiped his fingers between your slick folds to wet them. Oscar circled your clit a few times, pulling some moans from your lips and he kept his eyes on your shiny bottom lip as he located your hole and pushed a finger inside.

He groaned around an exhale at the tightness of you, your warmth enveloping his fingers beautifully as he tested the waters. He must’ve deemed you ready for a second digit, sliding it inside alongside the first and watching you squirm atop the blanket.

“God, your fingers.” You bit your lip when his thumb joined in, rubbing your clit just the way he knew you liked it. “Like magic.”

It took everything in your boyfriend not to smile proudly and puff his chest out. It always made him preen when you complimented him while you were lost in the moment, and he knew that a big part of him needed and wanted your validation.

Oscar listened to your whines and moans, bending his head down to press small and fleeting kisses to your clammy skin. Your chest was heaving as he kissed you between your breasts, feeling his own breathing go heavy when you arched your back and stuck your chest out. Like you wanted him to touch you there. And really, who was he to say no when you begged so prettily?

The neckline of your dress was thankfully very stretchy, allowing your boyfriend to pull the material down enough to expose your chest to his eyes. You weren't wearing a bra, something he’d noticed on the car ride over here when the AC had been blasting cold air and tightened your nipples. He hadn’t said anything then but his cock had stirred in interest at the sight.

He moaned almost depravingly when he got his mouth around your nipple, licking and sucking on it until your walls were clenching around his moving fingers. He gave the other the same treatment before deciding that he’d waited enough, moving down your body while his other unoccupied hand bunched up the fabric of your dress over your stomach.

You were dripping wet, slick sliding down his hands and presumably messing up the blanket underneath you and Oscar had to bring a hand down to squeeze around his cock. The sight of you under him with your legs bent and wide open was something he’d take a mental photo of, storing it away in his mind for his loneliest nights.

“Fuck,” he swore, shuffling further down so he was face to face with where you needed him the most. He gave you a sucking kiss on the inside of your thigh and you whined. “You smell so good, baby.”

That had you squirming self-consciously, bringing your hands up to hide your face. Your mouth opened against the palm of your hand when you felt his tongue swipe between his fingers messily, like he was tasting you and you bit down on your hand to stop the inevitable moan from tumbling out.

“Oscar.” You pleaded with him and the next swipe came almost immediately, like he didn’t want to keep you waiting.

Oscar was as talented as they came, when it came to his hands and how to use them. The way the both of you had learned each other’s bodies was admirable, and Oscar had really learnt it well. He knew what made you tick, what made you throw your head back and scream out blasphemous words that had him smirking.

It wasn’t a surprise, really, when he took you to newer highs in record speed. With the aid of his fingers and mouth, he managed to pull out your first orgasm that sent your head spinning right into the gutter. Your thighs closed around his head, turning your head to the sky as you cried out your climax.

Oscar withdrew his fingers from the tight grip of your pussy, but he didn’t stop licking gently as you slowly came down from your high. He kept his eyes on you, enjoying the tremble in your legs around him and the occasional hitch in your breath.

He couldn’t see your face, it being turned to the sky still, but he watched your throat bob before finally looking down at him with a dazed look on your face. Your body jerked when he tongued across your clit, hand shooting down to his hair to grip it loosely.

“That was…” You trailed off, still out of breath and tongue thick in your mouth but Oscar grinned like you’d handed him the stars and moon.

“Another one?” He asked, almost hopefully and you gave him a look of slight disbelief.

You laughed with a nod, trying not to flush warmth when he tilted his head back to wipe at his wet mouth with the back of his hand. He looked so casual, but the sight of it made your entire being turn fire hot. Even more so when he pressed a few absentminded kisses to your thighs before going right back in, working you with his tongue until the initial sensitivity faded off to the background and brought forth a second wave of pleasure.

Oscar’s jaw was starting to ache, but you were grasping at his hair and scratching his scalp so pleasantly that he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He needed you to come again, needed to taste more of you because he couldn’t have enough. So, he upped the ante and focused on your clit, laving his tongue over it and pursing his lips to suck it into his mouth.

He was almost disappointed when your moans started turning high pitched, thighs clenching tightly around his head because he wanted it to go on for longer. But he couldn’t be too sad about it when you sounded the way you did, so breathless and lost to the world.

There was no doubt that anyone could’ve heard you if it weren’t for the rain, the way you were moaning and cursing. It made Oscar smug, but also so fucking hard that he had to reach his hand down to fish himself out of his pants, almost moaning into your pussy when his hand closed around his length.

It really wouldn’t take long for him to come, already feeling sensitive to his touch as he jacked himself off.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cussed suddenly in one drawn out breath, hips arching up into his mouth as you groaned out your second orgasm.

The hitches in your breaths as the orgasm rolled through you made Oscar squeeze himself and it was when you pushed his head off of you with your hand that he hurriedly sat up, getting so dizzy from the sudden movement that he almost went teetering to the side. You hadn’t realised that he was taking care of himself until you caught sight of his hand, peering at him through hooded eyelids as he groaned low in his throat and aimed between your legs, coming with a jump of his hips.

It made you clench around nothing. The sight of him throwing his head back, hair damp and floppy as he sucked air into his lungs. He gave off a full body shiver, sitting back on his heels with a deep sigh.

“That was new.” You said around a smile, making him look down at you. His cheeks went pink, smile a little shy and you grabbed his arm to pull him down so you could kiss his smiling mouth.

“I hope that was okay.” He whispered against your lips and you gave him a slow nod.

“More than okay.” You glanced down between you two, pulling a slight grimace at your soiled underwear. “Need to get those off though.”

Oscar laughed and sat up, reaching for tissues while you did your best to pull your panties down your legs. You let them drop to the side, cheeks warm at the sight of both your spend on the wet material.

“Do you reckon it’s better to wait the rain out?” Oscar asked casually as he pried your legs apart, gently cleaning you up.

You glanced around, noting that while it was still raining, it seemed to let up quite a bit and you figured that it wouldn’t take long before it ceased completely. It was a trek back to the car and you honestly didn’t think that your legs could work for the next half hour anyway.

Oscar threw away the soiled tissues and grabbed your legs, pulling you closer to him until you got the memo and moved to snuggle up into his side. He pulled you in, burying his face in your hair with a sated sigh.

“Probably best to wait it out.” You replied belatedly. “I don’t mind sitting here with you.”

Oscar hid a smile in your hair.

“Me neither.” He murmured against your temple.

He’d sit around here forever if it meant spending time with you.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x female reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri imagine #f1 #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smut

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myfictionaldreams · 9 months

Note

I saw your post about poly marauders x reader inspo. What about angst and fluff where the reader is working really hard and doesn't take care of herself? She ends up fainting, hitting her head and having a seizure. (This is common for me.) The boys freak out and rush her to the infirmary. Maybe they take her back after she's given the all-clear and take care of her.

-🐍

Working Hard // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

A/N: hello, thank you so much for this request! I hope I've been able to write the information about seizures ok, I personally don't have them so was worried I'd get the information wrong but hopefully, this is alright!

Tags: angst, fluff, fainting, head injury, seizures, not looking after yourself, anxiety/crying, emotional hurt, protective marauders, cuddling/kissing etc.

Words: k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The library was fairly vacant of students as it approached the evening time, not that you’d noticed. At one swift glance, anyone could have seen the state of disarray that you were in. Ink stained your fingers and clothes, the whites of your eyes were bloodshot and dry from the lack of blinking, sweat on your brow and hair unkept from the number of times you’d brushed it out of your eyes.

Not to mention the disorganised surroundings you were sitting in with multiple stacks of books covering the desk space with different length parchment paper, ink pots and a single quill also messing up the area.

“How long has she been like this?”, Sirius asked Lily, concern etching deep into his face as he’d just arrived at the library following his day of lessons. Lily briefly looked up at Sirius with the same look of worry on her face from where she sat at a different desk, having been there most of the day just to keep an eye on you as she knew you were slowly spiralling into madness.

“She’s been like this since this morning. I’ve tried to convince her to have a break but she just wants to finish the work. I’m kind of getting worried about her, she hasn’t stopped in hours and keeps pushing my glasses of water away saying she’ll have it later but she’s yet to have any”, Lily explained to Sirius who was now clenching the strap of his school bag so tightly in his hands that his knuckles turned a ghastly shade of white.

“Thanks, Evans, I’ll stay with her don’t worry”, Sirius explained, patting his friend on the shoulder as she stood, having packed her bags ages ago but was reluctant to leave you on your own. “If you see Moony or Prongs, could you tell them where we are please?”

“No worries, I hope you can get through to her”.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head hard enough that his shoulder-length, silky hair flew in all directions as he walked over to your desk. You didn’t so much as flinch when the chair next to you scrapped along the stone floor as he dumped his bag onto the floor.

As he began to talk to you, he kept his voice calm, not wanting to frighten you out of the deep focus you were in. “Darling? Is everything alright?” When you again didn’t respond to having heard his arrival, he reached across and took the quill out of your fierce grip. This snapped you out of your trance as your head whipped in his direction, body jumping in a startle at finding one of your boyfriends casually sitting next to you. Your heart was already racing before the jump scare are you looked between Sirius and the quill you so desperately needed.

“What are you doing? I’m not finished my work yet Sirius and I am not in the mood to mess around, I just want to get it finished”, you demanded to him, reaching out with a trembling hand that had Sirius’ worries increasing.

“What was the last time that you even ate anything? Or had a drink of water?” Sirius asked whilst continuing to hold your quill out of your reach.

Shaking your head in annoyance, you shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know, a couple of hours ago maybe, I can remember. Now please, can I have my quill back!”

Sirius looked at the mess on the desk surrounding you, “Honey, this assignment isn’t even due for another week. You’ve got plenty of time to finish it another day but you need to look after yourself. Let’s have a little break, maybe go and get something to eat and drink and then depending on how you’re feeling, we could potentially finish this later”.

The marauder spoke calmly and slowly, taking in all the signs of your declining health. There were only a few occasions where you had been like this, neglecting to look after yourself and it usually ended with you crying from exhaustion or sleeping a whole day away feeling ill so he needed to be a good protector and make sure this didn’t get any worse but he feared that it was already at that stage anyway with how reluctant you were to listen to his advice.

“No, you aren’t listening to me! I don’t need any of that right now, I just need to finish this today because there’s still the potions assignment due in two days and I need to plot this week's stars for astronomy. There’s also the herbology that I haven’t even started yet so I don’t have time to go for your breaks! Just give it back to me Sirius!” As you were beginning to raise your voice, you caught the attention of the handful of other students who were studying. Sirius didn’t react to being shouted at, especially as it was never something you’d done before, he knew he was getting to the point of no return and was unsure just what it was that he was supposed to do. Let you carry on? Force feed you a snack and make you have a break but then would that anger you more?

Thankfully backup had arrived in the form of Remus and James. “What’s going on here?” the taller Marauder asked, his scarred face flicking back and forth between Sirius and where you were glaring at him.

“We were just about to have a little break”, Sirius began to explain with caution but you were quick to interrupt.

“No we aren’t Sirius! I’m fine, just let me continue other I’ll forget what I’m going to write!”. You were breathing heavily now, like you’d just run up a flight of stairs and Sirius couldn’t tell if it was because of your anger or just another symptom of how worn down you were getting.

It looked like you were close to a panic attack with the way you were reacting irrationally and the two Marauders that were standing took a protective step forward, placing their bags onto the floor.

“My Love”, James spoke carefully, “just take a deep breath for us, okay? We’ll just have a small break and then we’ll help you finish this assignment”.

Your hateful gaze turned to him, “I don’t need help James”.

The way you spoke didn’t falter him in any way as he continued, “Why don’t we just quickly get a drink of water and some fresh air and then we can come back-”

“Don’t talk to me like a child James, I know my limits. I’m just studying, I’m fine, I just need to finish this, but you’re all prolonging it!” You glared at all three of them, not thinking clearly at all and when Sirius once again held the quill away from you, you snapped. “You know what? Fine. Keep the quill. I’ve got plenty more in my dormitory which luckily doesn’t let guys in so I can continue this in some peace and quiet.”

You gathered as many books as possible into a messy pile, bundling them into your arms, along with your parchment paper.

“Wait, Sweetheart, just give us a moment-”. Sirius began reaching forward as you stood abruptly.

One minute you were taking a step forward and then next, it felt like the floor was moving, your eyes unfocused as the books dropped to the floor, swiftly followed by your body as you fainted, accidentally knocking your temple on the corner of your desk as you fell.

Remus, James and Sirius all lurched forward trying to soften your fall but to no avail, as they all watched you hit your head and collapse to the floor However the panic didn’t end there as your body began to convulse, eyes rolling back in your head as you didn’t respond to shouts.

“Shit! Go and get Madam Pomfrey!”, James demanded to Sirius who was out of his chair and sprinting within a second as a crowd began to form of scared students. This didn’t stop James though as he remained calm, kneeling next to your head but holding out a hand for Remus, “Hand me your jumper”. Remus pulled the clothing over his head and handed it to his boyfriend who balled it up and gently placed it under your head. “It’s ok baby, it’s going to be ok, it’ll be over soon, you’re safe, everything with be alright”.

With each word that he spoke, he remained calm, even managing to loosen your tie so that it didn’t restrict your breathing as you eventually calmed with your convulsions and remained unmoving on the floor, breathing heavily.

“Remus, help me roll her onto her side”, he asked the man who was also on his knees next to you, looking paler than usual. He followed James’ movements until you were lying in the recovery position, your hair carefully being moved out of your face so that they could assess your head injury as well. Thankfully there was no cut or blood but the area had already begun to swell into a small bump.

Remus shook his head, trying to process anything that had just happened as he then gazed towards James. “How…how did you know what to do?”

“My mum had seizures, usually she takes some potions to stop them from happening but on rare occasions they still do so she and Dad have taught me what to do if they were to happen, It’s not like I’ve done much anyway”. James looked you over, as Remus shook his head in disbelief, feeling guilty that he hadn’t come and found you at an earlier time but just assumed you were doing your usual revision in the library.

Sirius soon arrived with Madam Pomfrey who did her own assessment and praised James for the bits of care that he provided like putting you into the recovery position. You were then moved to the Hospital wing where you remained asleep for the next 12 hours which is what you needed, lots of rest and sleep.

When you did eventually awake, the sun was just beginning to rise over the mountains and you were disorientated and confused, being in an unknown area and alone, not remembering how or why you’d gotten there.

Thankfully the Matron was already working and hovering nearby so was able to come over and explain the events that had occurred whilst making sure you drank the numerous healing potions she’d decided you needed. With each glug of the horrible tasting, colourful concoctions, you could feel life beginning to pour back into your body, no longer feeling dehydrated or shaky, however, there was still some memory loss but she explained that was the side effect of the seizure. Your stomach twisted with guilt at not prioritising your health which was also the same sentiment expressed by Madam Pomfrey as she gave you a talking too as well about looking after yourself and making sure to take regular breaks, having food and drink nearby during long study sessions.

Finally, after she declared that you were safe to leave but only if you returned to the dormitory to rest for the next few days, she explained that James, Sirius and Remus had been by your side until late at night. Each of them outright refused to leave your side but as they all fell into their own emotional and physical exhaustion, Madam Pomfrey called for McGonagall who helped to send them to their beds.

The guilt now only increased tenfold at the thought of how worried they must have been. The Matron tried to encourage you to not worry about those emotions for now, but to go and rest and that you’d need to return every morning for additional potions and investigations for the seizure.

Every step towards the Gryffindor common room, nerves bubbled in your stomach, wondering if you should follow the woman's advice and just go to your own dormitory and sleep the day away or knock on the Marauders’ room and discuss what had happened.

Thankfully for your exhausted mind, you didn’t need to decide as soon as you entered the homely common room, the three of them were already rushing down the stairs, dressed in their casual clothes and looking like they were about to run somewhere. They were all startled to see you standing there, relief and worry expressed on each of their faces, along with dark circles under their eyes from the lack of sleep.

Hating the uncomfortable silence, you nervously twisted your fingers together, glancing at the floor, unable to hold their burning eye contact anymore. “Madam Pomfrey said I was okay to leave but said I needed to get some rest”.

Another wave of relief rushed through your boyfriends as they each visibly dropped the tension from their shoulders as they stepped forward. “How are you feeling?”, Remus asked carefully, not being able to watch your nervous twitches anymore as he grabbed your fingers and linked both of your hands with his.

“I feel fine”, you answered honestly, looking guilty up at them still through your lashes.

“What about your head?”, Sirius continued the question, standing to your left and stroking the strand of hair away from the area that he’d seen hit the corner of your desk.

“It doesn’t hurt at all but Pomfrey said those sorts of injuries are easy for her to fix anyway. I um, I don’t actually remember what happened, or even from the last few days but everything else is better, my head doesn’t hurt at all”.

James was the last to approach to your right and you were thankful to see a loving smile on his handsome face as he pushed the rim of his glasses up his nose whilst asking, “And what about the seizures?”

“She said they could happen again but it was mostly triggered because I hadn’t eaten, drank or slept properly and that I needed to be careful in the future. I think it’s something that I had dealt with in my childhood as I remember my mum saying that I used to have some sort of seizures but it’s been so long that I didn’t think it was an issue anymore. She also told me about what you did James and I just… I can’t thank you enough and I’m so so sorry for putting you all through this”. Your eyes were full of tears that quickly escaped and flowed down your cheeks.

James couldn’t watch you cry and rushed to wrap his arms around your body, cupping the back of your head to hold you against his warm, firm chest. Remus and Sirius also managed to join the cuddle. The three of them didn’t expect any sort of apology from you, the anger that had been there initially for you not looking after yourself had swiftly changed to worry and fear so just making sure you were okay was their only goal.

“Shh Sweetheart, please don’t cry. We’re just glad you’re safe. You scared us so much, all I could think about last night was having you in my arms again”, Remus calmed your cries down as he kissed your shoulder, trying not to unload too much of his worries onto you.

The three of them held you for long enough that other students began to wake and enter the common room, rushing past so as to not ruin the sentimental moment. As your sobs turned into hiccups and the tears stopped staining Sirius’ shirt, the long-haired Marauder pulled away to cup your cheeks. “Come on, it’ll do us all no good crying in the middle of the common room and you’re supposed to be resting and to be honest I think we could all do with a rest so let's go upstairs”.

Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you smiled and accepted his outstretched hand, his much larger palm engulfing yours as he gently tugged you along to the boys’ room. The sight of the magically enlarged bed only increased your exhaustion as your body seemed to slump with the need to crawl beneath the sheets.

Before you could do as you wished whilst still wearing your day clothes, James stepped behind, his arms around your waist and held you for a second, swaying slightly on the spot as he dipped to kiss your cheek. “Do you want my jumper? Might be more comfortable than what you’re wearing?” he asked with hope in his voice and you knew he always loved seeing you in his clothes.

Turning in his arms and stroking your fingers through his hair to brush it out of his face you nodded tiredly, “Yes please!”

James grinned, pecking your lips before swiftly pulling his jumper off and then helping you to underdress down to your underwear and helping you into his jumper. Remus and Sirius were already down to their boxers and in bed, Sirius in the centre with his arms open and you smiled in relief, crawling over his body and settling on top of his chest. Everything seemed to fall into place as James followed behind you and lay next to Sirius, all three of their arms wrapping around you like a weighted blanket and a breath later all four of you were asleep.

When you woke next, it was because something was tickling your nose. Squinting open your eyes, you were welcomed to the sight of Sirius’ silky hair completely covering your face and his warm breath only an inch away from yours. Laughing under your breath, being careful not to wake the Marauder, you brushed the strands out of yours and his face, tucking it behind his ear.

As your fingers settled back cuddled into your chest, Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed followed by him groaning and bringing your fingers back up to his hair. You giggled louder now as you began to play with his hair and scratch your nails against his scalp, loving the sweet smile on his pretty-boy face.

“You know Pads, asking her to pet you, isn’t what I’m sure Madam Pomfrey classed as resting”, James mused from across the room, no longer by your side. Peaking open your eyes once more, you lifted your head as Sirius flipped off James who was sitting across the room, playing with his gold snitch with a pile of food waiting beside him.

“Is that pancakes?” you asked hopefully, sitting up further by pushing off of Sirius’ chest. Remus who was also still resting on the bed perked up at his, opening one eye and rolling over, his hair sticking up in all directions nearly as dramatically as James’ as he looked for the food.

“It is indeed, and there’s also toast, sausages, eggs, bacon, fruit, anything you might need”.

The four of you repositioned on the bed, leaving space in the middle to carefully lay the trays of food that James had managed to steal from the kitchens and all ate until stomachs were full and happy.

“What time is it?”, Sirius asked, still trying to wipe the sleep out of his eyes.

“Just after lunch, so we’ve only slept for a few hours but seeing as we missed breakfast I thought it might be a good idea to get some food into our systems”.

“Thanks, Prongs”, Remus said before taking another bite of his toast and looking in your direction. “How are you feeling after a bit more sleep?”

“Good, like nothing even happened, I feel like I’m back to normal”. Remus nodded at your words, giving you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, causing you to sigh and place your fork back onto your plate that was balanced on your nap. “I know we need to discuss what has happened and I’d rather do it now instead of waiting”.

The three Marauders looked at each other, unsure of how to approach the subject before James took one for the team and spoke first. “So you said you don’t remember anything, is that still the case?”

“The last thing I remember is going to Potions on Monday afternoon which was apparently a few days ago, I don't remember anything up until waking up in the hospital wing”.

“Do you understand what’s happened though? And how serious it was?”, James continued, his usual light and laughter not present in his eyes and you had to look at your fingers holding onto your plate as you felt the intensity of his emotions.

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey explained everything and why I had the seizure. I know I hadn’t looked after myself that day, but sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in my assignments for classes and if I don’t do them as soon as they are given to me, I’ll run out of time to complete them and then I’ll fail and then they’ll kick me out of the school and-”.

A scarred, rough hand pulled the plate from your grip so that he could gently hold both of your hands, tipping your chin back so that you were looking up at him as Remus came through with his words of wisdom. “You know that’s just your anxiety talking, there’s no way they would ever kick a talented witch like you from Hogwarts. You’re nearly top of all classes, always help others with their work and get good grades on your own. But you really need to look after yourself. To even get to the point of fainting is so dangerous Sweetheart, imagine if we weren’t there when this all happened?”

It was Sirius who began talking next, “We aren’t saying you need to completely change your ways but you fought us so hard in the library to even just have a little break. From now on, maybe we should put a bottle of water and some snacks in your bag and please, if you’re studying, just give yourself a rest every hour or so, even if it's to have a walk around the library to stretch your legs. Is that ok?”

The way he was speaking to you so softly and kindly had your heart melting and you hated how quickly tears were in your eyes again. You were so thankful for them, expecting them to be angry in some sort of way but once again proving how much you loved them and they loved you.

Unable to form any words, you nodded your response towards Sirius who smiled and opened his arms for you to crawl into again, his hands rubbing up and down your spine, soothing the emotions away.

James sighed away his own anxieties, moving over to kiss the back of your head before clearing away the food, waving his wand and everything disappearing back to the kitchens. “Right, a day of relaxation coming your way my love”, he began, trying to cheer the atmosphere and already causing you to laugh through the tears. “We will be having regular naps throughout the day, and plenty of food that will be ready whenever we are, All I need to do is summon one of the house elves. We have books, Sirius record player, we could even venture down to the common room if we’re feeling adventurous. Oh! I also caught Lily on my way back from the kitchens and she gave me some fruity bubble bath that her muggle parents have sent her that’s supposed to be nice so a nice candlelight bath will be ready whenever you are Love”.

You were beaming at all three of them, “Thank you! For this and everything else you’ve ever done, thank you”.

James shifted closer so that he could peck your lips, slowly and with love. The action was repeated by Remus and Sirius as you all naturally linked together in a cocoon of warmth and safety as you all hugged each other.

“I love you”, you whispered against whichever one of their shoulders you were nuzzling into. The three of them promised their love back to you before deciding on the first plan of the day.

#poly!marauders #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #hp fluff #sirius black fluff #remus lupin fluff #james potter fluff #the marauders #marauders fluff #mine*

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viviennevermillion · 1 year

Text

When you faint because of the heat

notes: new theme. i am speed. set during tamashina-mina and yasamina silk events. there's also no translation out yet at the point of writing this so I apologize if I accidentally fuck something up, i'm piecing this event story together from twitter threads and japanese-speaking mutuals exposing themselves to my annoying questions. varying lengths again because what is consistency?

contains: character x gn!reader, established relationship

characters included: leona, jamil, malleus, lilia

warnings: spoilers for new event, heatstroke

dark content creators & consumers dni

Leona may have acted like he wasn't very keen on going home and bringing anyone from Night Raven College along, but he did care a lot about his homeland and he was feeling a little proud that he got to show it to you. He just wished he wasn't the loathed second prince while doing that. The others? It didn't matter to him if they enjoyed their trip. But you were his significant other and he wanted you to have a good time. So if he already had to go back to the Sunset Savannah? He might as well bring you along. He didn't want to admit it but you brightened up every moment at least enough for it to be tolerable for him. And even though he felt like the trip was going to be quite the hassle, he was looking forward to it at least a little bit in the aspect that he'd get to spend some time with you in his homeland. Maybe he'd even show you the palace. The others could wait outside.

You wandered the plaza with Leona and the others, sneaking your hand into his at one point. "Careful, y/n~", Leona teased and looked at you with his signature smirk, "the people of Sunset Savannah still don't know I have a significant other, we don't want anyone from the royal guard to tackle you for your affection now, do we? They might throw you in jail and then you'll never get to see me again." You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend. "If you weren't the prince, I'd dunk you in the fountain." "So violent, huh?", he said with an uncharacteristically dramatic sigh, "drowning in the fountain built to commemorate my beloved nephew would be a fitting end for me, huh?" You poked his side. "I'd be foolish to believe I could get rid of you by drowning you in a fountain", you joked and now Leona took your hand in his for a moment and squeezed it gently, still smirking at you.

"Could you people stop flirting for two seconds?", Vil looked at you both with a disappointed expression. "This is their version of flirting?", Lilia put a finger to his chin in confusion. "It is and I hate it", Vil replied dryly.

All of you noticed that it had become even hotter in the plaza and none of you were really dressed for the occasion. When Jack fainted, Leona was shocked and needed a moment to process what was happening. "Y/n, could you hand me the water you packed? Y/n...?", Leona turned around to see you unconscious in Vil's arms after he had caught you. "Oh for fucks sake", Leona held his head.

He made his way towards you. "Move, prickly queen", he hissed at Vil and picked you up from the ground bridal style. Vil stared at him like "tf did you just call me?"

"This really isn't the time to get jealous, you know?", Vil sighed and Leona carried you to the shade as the others helped bring Jack there. They could see Leona seemed a little distressed over you fainting though. He put you down on a bench and sat next to you, waiting for you to regain consciousness before he helped you drink some water.

"Ah shit, how are we supposed to win if y'all die on me like a starving gazelle with three broken legs?", Leona growled and rubbed the back of his head. Despite his annoyed expression, anyone who knew him well enough could tell he was worried about the two of you.

"Do you think you two can walk with us or should I call the corpse wagon?", Leona asked about your condition, ignoring Vil's sarcastic commentary of how charming he was yet again.

At the hotel he has you sitting sideways on his lap and resting against his chest. His tail is wrapped around your waist and he holds your cheek with one hand before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He looks up at Vil and Lilia smirking at him in a teasing way and Kalim letting out an "aw" sound.

"Fuck you starin' at?", Leona commented dryly. "I'm sorry", Kalim apologized and looked to the ground.

Jamil was glad you were coming along because not only would he get to show his homeland to you but you would always cheer him up and help him relax when he was feeling too stressed with his responsibilities. When he joined you in the evening after a long day of running after Kalim, you'd sometimes massage his shoulders or kiss the tension away. He'd need that today, he mused. He'd make sure to show you all of his favorite things about the Scalding Sands in return.

What he wasn't expecting was for you to faint from the heat. If anyone was an expert in keeping people safe and comfortable, it was Jamil. He had warned you about the harsh desert heat. Repeatedly. Yet it had still happened.

So now that you had fainted despite him making sure you're hydrated and otherwise protected from the sun, the only thing that was left for him to do was to make sure you'd get back on your feet as soon as possible.

It wouldn't be Jamil if he didn't bring a first-aid kit so he uses anything in there that could possibly help you.

He ignores Kalims worried commentary of the situation and makes sure you're provided with the best possible support.

Kalim orders food for you specifically so you get your energy back.

Jamil has an arm wrapped around you and makes sure you drink enough water. When the food arrives, you enjoy the exquisite meal. "Out of all things, you had to order a gourmet lunch that's more expensive than a street food vendor's entire shop?", Jamil stares at Kalim with his typical half-lidded expression, "you know a wet burger would have been much cheaper and been here earlier right?" You immediately stop eating, still having a bite in your mouth while staring at your boyfriend in shock upon the realization of what Kalim had ordered for you. "Just eat it now, Kalim is just like that", Jamil sighs, gesturing for you not to worry about the cost.

Jamil presses a kiss to your forehead and holds your hand as you continue your trip, urging you to take things slow for now. He stays by your side and keeps you safe. Once you're wearing the outfit Kalim's family had specifically prepared for his friends, Jamil at least doesn't worry anymore about you not being dressed appropriately for the desert climate. "You look beautiful", he squeezes your hand and presses a kiss to your lips, relieved you're safe and seem to be doing well.

Malleus is so hyped when he not only gets to go on a trip to the Scalding Sands without his retainers but gets to be with you on top of it all. It's like Halloween and Birthdays and International Gargoyle Day (something he may or may not have made up) in one.

If he's waiting for three hours in front of the dark mirror before the trip out of sheer excitement you can bet you're waiting with him. "They're not going to forget about us, we don't have to get up at 4am for this, Mal-", you protested as he dragged you out of bed to get ready for the trip.

He wants to share every moment with you. The trip has barely begun and he already feels like these are going to be memories he'd treasure forever.

When you faint because of the heat, he's super worried. He catches you and holds you in his arms with a panicked expression. So terrified he's losing you for a moment. "Viper, y/n is dying", he calls out with noticeable fear in his shaking voice. The people around you are raising an eyebrow and staring at your group. "They're not dying", Jamil corrects Malleus hastily and tries to signal to the concerned spectators that you were going to be fine, "they've just fainted from the heat. Let's get them somewhere in the shade and provide them with water."

Malleus nods and water droplets start forming from thin air everywhere around you. "Not with magic", Jamil gestures wildly and is happy to see the car Kalim called arrive, "we brought bottled water. No. more. magic." Jamil is so stressed out already, he's glad when you wake up again because that makes him avoid more fun surprises from their royal guest out of worry.

The thing is that Malleus getting into a relationship with anyone is not something to be taken lightly and could have a huge impact on the political landscape of Briar Valley so until you're sure you actually want to rule over his kingdom with Malleus, your relationship unfortunately has to stay a secret. Which means none of your classmates except for Lilia, Silver and Sebek are actually aware you two are an item.

"You're all seeing this right? This is not a mirage?", Cater whispers audibly with a shocked expression while in the limousine. The reason for his bafflement is Malleus gently holding you in his arms while you were resting and recovering from your heatstroke. Malleus holds Twisted Wonderland's equivalent of a Capri Sun, letting you drink from the straw while he had an arm wrapped around you. There was still worry in his voice and he would have loved to be alone with you right now to give you some affection in order to cheer you up.

He stays super close to you throughout the rest of your trip to make sure you'll be okay because you really did a number on his poor inexperienced heart.

He's simultaneously so relieved you're okay that he's even more affectionate than usual. He shares one of those melons with you and says it's so your love lasts forever. ❤️

Lilia was so excited to take you on this trip. The last time he visited the capital of Sunset Savannah, it hadn't been urbanized yet so he was looking forward to exploring the modern metropolis with you and being able to provide you with some stories and trivia about the past during the trip.

Lilia himself is pretty sensitive to the sun and he definitely warned you about the heat.

Nevertheless, you faint early on in the trip due to a heatstroke. Did I not pay enough attention to them?, Lilia asks himself as he carries you to the shade.

He thinks it's unlikely anything too bad is going to happen to you but he's still worried. He holds you in his arms the whole time until you wake up. He gently rubs your wrist with his thumb and kisses your forehead gently. You come to your senses not long after, your eyes flickering open and looking into the face of your lover who is giving you a soft smile. True love's kiss, Lilia mused and chuckles.

"We were quite worried about you, dear", he pats your head, hugs you and Kalim hands him the water bottle. Lilia helps you drink if your hand is shaking and you struggle to hold the bottle on your own.

He raised Silver and one overgrown dragon fae, he knows how to take care of someone, so you're in good hands unless he brings up his cooking. Then it's time to hit the bricks.

Lilia has an arm wrapped around you all the way back to the hotel, so you have some support if you're still low on energy or feeling a little dizzy.

He makes sure you get something to eat and drink enough water once you're back at the hotel.

He holds you for a while and kisses your lips gently. "Don't scare me like this again, okay?", he chuckles as you nuzzle his neck and hug him back.

He'd let the medics do a check-up and he'd be really happy if you're in the condition to continue exploring the capital with him and the others but if not he vows to take note of everything that might interest you and show it to you before you go back to Night Raven College.

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #jamil viper x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #leona x reader #jamil x reader #malleus x reader #lilia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #leona kingscholar #jamil viper #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia

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nanamisdickrider · 2 months

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toji wanna put another baby inside reader.

like- heavy breeding kink.

Desires ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

## — breeding !!

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩☾⋆☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩☾⋆｡

You were arching your back, meeting toji's chest when he was pounding in your cunt. Your eyes rolling back and your chest hurting from the continuous slaps on your nipples from him, your ass was plump and red by now.

This all started when you and toji visited your friend to see her newborn and a sudden urge to get you pregnant hit toji when you were holding the baby so gently and caressing it's cheeks. The car ride back home was quiet until, “What do you think about starting a family?” you stopped fiddling with your dress and looked at him, your cheeks forming a very light pink shade. "I'd love that Toji”

And now you were laying on your stomach on the king size bed and out of breath. He was pulling your hair back and your toes were hitting his lower back. His thighs on both sides of your body, trapping you under him completely. You were stuttering and moaning oh so loudly that toji was thankful the walls were soundproof or the neighbors would've complained about it tomorrow, he kind of wanted that to happen so that you'd know how good he made you feel that your screams were very obvious to the neighbors.

"You'll look so good pregnant, your tits will be so full of milk that it'll be spilling. Don't worry about that though, I'm here to suck it clean anytime" toji groaned and whispered that last part in your ear, his raspy voice only making you wetter. He pulls back and grips your hips to lift your lower part and put you in an almost-doggystyle position, his cock reached deeper in this position, your walls were all slippery with your cum because you have absolutely no idea how many times he made you cum on his tongue and fingers as an excuse to ‘prepare you’ you knew very well that him seeing your cum seeping out of your hole turns him on so bad.

His thrusts were getting slower but deeper, which was a sign he was close to his climax. “You like this, don't you? Having my fat cock deep inside you and filling up your womb with my warm seeds. You thought about this before yeah? Having your tummy all round and sore with my kid in it? Yeah?" He moans when you clench around him after hearing his words. You force yourself to let out a small “yes!” he leans down and you feel his warm chest on your back, his hips rolling into yours and and going as deep as he could. He let out a groan before his hips started shaking slowly and his thrusts weren't as strong as before, but he made sure to push in deep when he was shooting his cum inside of you. "Gotta make sure your pussy takes everything I give her yeah?"

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji x oc #jujitsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #smut!#jjk fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #lazywrites♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱

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wlntrsldler · 3 months

Text

thinking of you're on your own, kid and luke x reader.

warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, luke being a simp, hurt, betrayal.

i. summer went away, still, the yearning stays.

your first summer at camp half-blood was a whirlwind, as you assumed it was for anyone who finds out that they are a child of a god. you were one of the older ones, you've come to learn soon after arriving. at seventeen, you were years behind many of the children who inhabited the camp. still, you were treated like anyone new who entered.

you were greeted by the head counselor of the hermes cabin-- luke, he said his name was. it was an easy enough name to remember, but you knew him as the boy whose eyes looked honey-brown in the sunlight, whose lopsided smile made you feel a pit in your stomach, and whose voice made your head spin.

you'd gone to summer camp before. you knew what it was like to have a summer crush. in the third grade, you met a boy named evan kim in asheville. he always had his nose buried in a book. his glasses would slip down the bridge of his nose and he pushed them up with his index finger without skipping a beat. you found comfort that you could sit beside him under the shade of the tree beside the dining hall, not saying a word, just reading.

but the haze of summer subsided as the leaves on the trees changed colors, and by september, you could hardly remember what he looked like. and when he didn't return to camp the following year, you forgot all about him.

but camp half-blood was different, of course it was. and luke was different, of course he is. he stayed with you longer than he had to, but you didn't know that at the time. after all, you were new. you didn't know that all luke had to do was show you around on your first day.

he found you sweet. and really pretty. he loved how the tips of your ears turned a shade of pink when he said your name (he said it too often after he learned it, it just felt right rolling off his tongue). he loved how you smiled at him, looking up at him (he was thankful that he had a growth spurt the summer before he met you), and the crinkles beside your eyes were on full display. he loved how you giggled his name when he did the stupidest things (he did it to make you laugh; chris rolled his eyes, fondly, every time.)

the entire summer, he spent glued next to you. the campers knew that if he wasn't at training or doing his duties, he would be wherever you were. that often meant sitting at your feet while you read under the tree by the lake. too often, you'd rarely get any reading done because luke would ask you questions about yourself. he asked about your life outside of camp (what's your parent like? what kind of school do you go to? do you have a boyfriend? when you answered no to the last one, luke internally cheered.) sometimes he'd read over your shoulder, or ask you to read an excerpt to him, but he never brought his own book to read. he much preferred to watch you.

when you were claimed by your godly parent, luke feared that you'd stop hanging out with him as often (or really, stop letting him follow you around like a love-sick puppy.) because you'd prefer your own siblings' company. but he let out a breath of relief when he found you sitting under the tree the following day, reading your book.

you heard his footsteps, ones you've grown to love, and the sounds of the grass crunching under the soles of his shoes.

you grinned at him (with the smile you reserved for him), "took you long enough, castellan. thought you weren't gonna show."

he took his usual spot sitting diagonally at your feet and smiled, "there's no place else i'd rather be."

so yeah, you'd been to summer camp before. you'd had summer infatuations before, but not like this. not like luke.

when it was time for you to head back home after summer ended, you promised to return the next summer. you promised him that you'd write letters and he made a joke about how it was just like those romance books you read. he didn't miss the way your eyes widened in shock at the comparison. unable to speak, you kissed his cheek goodbye.

at that, luke made a promise to himself that next summer, he'd tell you how he felt.

ii. i waited ages to see you there.

luke waited for your return that summer. he'd grown bigger over the months since you last saw him. he was more muscular, more confident. the girls at camp were taking notice of it. sure, luke had always been a good-looking guy, but there was something about him now that made his charm undeniable. (he would never admit it, but the entire time you two were apart, luke was dedicated to making himself better for you. he wanted to impress you.)

annabeth rolled her eyes at the new-found attention her brother was getting and made it her mission to humble him every chance she got. luke made it clear to her that the attention would never get to his head. there was something unspoken there, but annabeth knew. the only attention luke wanted was from you.

she found it cute, a little gross, but cute nonetheless, so she waited with luke at the entrance of camp-half blood for you. when the sun set and there was still no trace of you, annabeth didn't comment on how luke's shoulders were slumped as they walked into camp together.

luke had faced a lot of disappointment in his life. from not being the perfect child his father expected him to be, to returning to camp as a failure after his quest, he'd gone through a lot of disappointment; far too much for a nineteen-year-old to bear, but this one was the worst of it all.

he skipped dinner to retire to the hermes cabin early. he pulled out a shoebox from under his bunk, the place where he stored all the letters you sent him over the months you'd been apart. he read through them, trying to figure out if you gave any indication of not returning to camp. but there was none.

at the end of every letter, you had written a countdown until you were back at camp. luke's excitement grew as the numbers on the bottom of the page dwindled to a week, the last time you sent him a letter. the last letter was about your eighteenth birthday. you had dinner with your friends from home and received new books to read for when you were at camp. (luke had a top three; he was really hoping you'd read them to him.) in the letter, you also managed to sneak him a polaroid of you before you blew out the candles on your cake. on the bottom of the photo, in your lovely handwriting, you wrote: "for luke."

he kept the picture in his wallet since he first got it.

as he was reading through the letters again (the paper was falling apart between his fingers. he had re-read your letters too much over the months because he missed you so much), annabeth came running into the hermes cabin. she was out of breath and luke could barely understand her. but when your name, "another kid," "grover," and "hurt" left her lips, luke ran out of the cabin to find you.

when he saw you lying on the bed, bloodied and bruised, luke's heart stopped. he ran to you, distressed, and held your hand, only hoping that you'd feel his presence. when you gave his hand a weak squeeze, luke smiled under the tears that spilled from his eyes.

as others tended to your wounds, luke sat there patiently, not once letting go of your hand. when you were finally cleaned up, luke let his sleepiness take over. he fell asleep on the uncomfortable, wooden chair beside your bed, making sure that he was touching you at all times. when his hand cramped from holding yours, he stretched out his fingers, letting his thumb rest on the pulse point of your wrist. he wanted to make sure you were really there.

waking up to a slouching luke castellan, face buried in the crook of his elbow as he snored softly, was arguably the best way to wake up on your first day of camp. softly, you moved your hand from under him and ran your fingers through his messy curls. he stirred under your touch and woke.

"thought you weren't showing up," his voice was deep. he cleared his throat to get rid of the drowsiness. "waited for you at the door."

"as you can see, i was a little caught up," you tried to joke, but failed when you winced. "ow."

"are you okay?" luke was fully awake now. his brows threaded in concern, his hand finding yours again. "do you need anything?"

"'m okay," you whispered, "or i will be, after i heal."

"you'll tell me if you're not okay, right?"

"of course, luke." you said, smiling. "don't you have better things to do than watching me heal?"

"no, nothing important," he replied. you knew he was lying. "being here with you is where i need to be."

iii. something different bloomed.

"can you read to me?"

it was one of those hot, sticky days at camp, but luke refused to get up from where he was laying on your stomach. sweat dripped down from his forehead, but he made no effort to wipe it away. he was too comfortable.

"sure, luke," you couldn't say no to him. you read a passage from the book you were reading (the book was from his top three) as luke listened to you. he hummed when you read a particularly well-written line. he made no mention of when you paused to highlight something. he waited patiently when you struggled with a few lines. you read to him until your voice was hoarse.

"you're a great reader," he said after you were done. "i always had trouble reading. the words get jumbled in my head."

"i wasn't always good at it," you confessed, closing the book and placing it next to you. you looked down at luke only to find him already looking at you. in the sun, his freckles were more prominent. they littered across his face. "when i was younger, i really struggled with it and it frustrated me a lot. but because i can't live with not being good at something, i tried really hard to get better. 'm still not the best at it. there are still moments when the words don't make sense in my head, but i learned to take my time when that happens. if i mess up, then i try again."

luke had a feeling that that last part didn't just apply to reading. he admired that about you. in the short time that he'd known you, he saw how determined you were. last summer, when he taught you how to sword fight, you stumbled a few times but never fell down. he must've spent hours on end with you because you wanted to learn. when he saw you in the infirmary on the first night after the attack on percy, he was thankful that he did that (even if his joints ached for days after.)

"have you heard from percy?" your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "are they okay?"

luke swallowed, "yeah, i talked to him and annabeth."

"are they okay?"

"they're okay," luke felt his voice betraying him so he let out an awkward laugh, "they're like an old married couple now. they're always bickering."

he was thankful that you laughed along with him. it was good that you didn't suspect a thing. he wasn't ready to tell you, not yet. he got up from where he was lying and sat up to face you. you smiled at him, reaching over to wipe the sweat off his brow.

"i gotta tell you something," you mumbled, eyes now looking everywhere but him. "promise you won't get mad."

"could never be mad at you," he said. his voice was sincere then. he meant it. "what's on your mind, darling?"

"i think i love you."

luke's face dropped, which you took as a rejection. with tears in your eyes, you began to fumble your words. you quickly got up, picking up the book next to you, and said some ridiculous excuse about why you had to go. you were about five feet away from him when luke realized what just happened.

he sprung up from his spot and chased after you, calling out your name with each step. he stopped in front of you and grabbed you by the shoulders, "where are you going?"

"luke, i don't really think it's fair that you're asking me that when you just rejected me."

"when did i reject you?" he asked. he racked his brain trying to figure out if his voice had betrayed him.

"i saw your face, luke," you sighed. "it's fine. i should've known. you're still just being nice to me because you have to be. i just got into my head thinking that you might like me, too, but it's okay if you don't. really, it is! i just need some time to wallow and-"

"oh no," he shook his head, "i was only upset because i was supposed to do it first."

"huh?"

"i was gonna tell you how i felt this summer, but since the attack, i didn't know when the right time was." luke wanted to kiss the cute look of confusion off of your face. he laughed, "i think i love you, too. was just upset i didn't get to say it first."

"oh."

luke really wanted to kiss you then.

"you love me?"

"mhm," he grinned, stepping closer to you. he moved his grasp from your shoulders to your waist. he pulled you in, letting his lips ghost over yours. "i think i do."

you placed your lips on his.

iv. you're on your own, kid.

"luke, what are you saying?"

"he has a plan," he explained, eyes wide and begging. it was only a matter of time before annabeth alerted everyone about percy. about him. "he has a plan for us."

"luke, you're scaring me," you said, backing up from him until you felt your back hit a wall. your hand found the cool metal of the blade he got you. your fingers wrapped around it, making you flinch.

this wasn't right.

you let go of your blade, letting your hands fall to your sides.

"no, no, darling, don't be scared," he said, "please, just listen to me. there's no time."

luke saw tears in your eyes and he cursed himself for making you feel this way. he tried to comfort you with his smile, but for the first time, it didn't work. you just stared at him; the same look of terror etched across your features.

he frowned, pleading, "please, just come with me."

there was a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. luke thought, for a moment, that you would take his outstretched hand, that you would follow him and disappear into the night with him, that you would fight with him.

"no, i'm sorry, luke," you shook your head, "i can't. i won't."

his ears were ringing. he dropped his hand at the same time all of the commotion outside began. he looked at you, then at the door, panicked. his time was up.

he was on his own.

#luke castellan #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #pjo #pjo spoilers #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo fanfic #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #frances song fics #frances writes

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alotofpockets · 3 months

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I've got them | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You offer to watch Billy and Tommy. When Wanda sees you interracting with her kids, she realises her feelings towards you might be more than just a simple crush.

Marvel masterlist | Words: 1.4k

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“Come on Maximoff, you can't bail on Sunday brunch again.” Natasha shook her head, already knowing what her best friend was about to say. “You know I'd love nothing more than to join you guys, but I've got no one to watch the boys on Sundays since the weekend sitter moved away.” It was hard finding a sitter for the two energetic boys, especially when their mom was an Avenger.

You were walking into the room with mission debriefing rapports for the meeting the team was about to have and overheard the conversation. “I’m free Sunday, I don’t mind watching them.” Wanda’s eyes shoot up to you. “Oh that would be too much-” Natasha interrupts her. “That would be much appreciated.” With a nudge from her best friend Wanda agrees. “Alright then, I have to get these to Tony, but find me in my office later for the details?” You wave the stack of papers in the air. “Yeah, sure.” Wanda responds before you smile in her direction and are off again.

“Why did you do that?” Wanda shoves Natasha away from her. “Well, you clearly like y/n, and she’s met the boys before. See it as a way for them to bond, and then you can finally tell her how you feel.” Wanda’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “You really need to stop being my wing woman, and let me live my life.” Natasha sits down at the meeting table, as the rest of the team makes their way into the room. “Now what would be the fun in that?”

Once the meeting was done Wanda made her way over to the office wing of the Compound. Walking the familiar path to your office made her chest warm, Natasha’s words were true. Wanda had a crush on you for about three months now, never had she said those words out loud, but over time she would start spending more and more time with you. Did she need to be on this side of the Compound? No, not at all, but she grasped every opportunity to spend time with you. On the other hand, you were loving the frequent visits from Wanda, always reserving some time in your schedule to spend proper time with her when she would show up.

“Hi Wands, how was the meeting?” She shrugged her shoulders, “Nothing special. I do have these for you, though.” She hands you the file with meeting notes. It had been quite some time now that Wanda brought these to you, instead of Fury or Cap, you were more than happy to receive them from her though. “So, Sunday?” Wanda’s face turned serious quickly. “You really don’t have to watch the boys, it’s too much to ask anyways.” You smiled at her warmly, “First off, you didn’t ask, I offered. Second off, I would love to watch them, they seem like great kids.” You discuss further details until you both have to get back to work.

That’s how you found yourself on the doorstep of the Maximoff household on Sunday. Wanda let you in while the boys were running around the living room chasing each other. “Boy’s, y/n is here, can you please come say hi.” They came to a halt in front of you, “Hi.” They said simultaneously. “Hi kiddos, it's good to see you again.”

Wanda showed you around the house for a bit, so you knew where to find everything you might need. “Okay, and call me if anything is wrong, I can be back in 5 minutes.” You stopped her with your hands on her shoulders, “I’ve got them, Wands. Go have fun with your friends.” You didn’t miss the way her eyes widened slightly, and her breath hitched. “Alright, thank you again.” She turned to her kids, “Boy’s be nice, I’ll be back in around two hours. I love you both.” The boys both smiled her way and said, “We love you too.”

The boys were getting tired from running around and plopped down next to you on the couch. “Seems like you two are in need of food, what would you like?” They both wanted bagels with cream cheese, so you headed into the kitchen to get that ready for them as well as for yourself.

During lunch Billy and Tommy asked you all kinds of questions to get to know you better. Do you have superpowers? What do you do for the Avengers? How do you know our mom? You answered all of their questions happily. Tommy was up next with another question, “Who is your favourite Avenger?” You smiled, “That’s easy, your mom is my favourite Avenger.” They both shared a look and started giggling, “Why?” It didn’t take long for you to answer, “Well, your mom is really kind, and cares a lot about people. She always makes sure the rest of the Avengers are well taken care of. And of course her red wiggly woos are pretty cool.” The boys giggled at the last part of your reasoning. “Is your mom your favourite Avenger too?” Both boys nod their heads instantly, “Mom is the best.”

After the boys helped you clean up the lunch dishes all on their own, they seemed to have found their energy right back. At first they started chasing each other again, but you had an idea that wouldn’t end up with one of them getting hurt. You connected your phone with the speakers in the living room and started some music. The boys halted their running and looked your way at the first sound of music. “You’re not going to make me dance alone right?”

The three of you were jumping around to the music when Wanda came back home, none of you realised though. You were too busy singing along to the music and twirling around together. Wanda watched the scene from the side of the room, her smile wide, and her heart full. She realised in that moment, while you were interacting with her kids that her feelings for you far exceeded those of a simple crush, she was falling for you hard.

You saw Wanda from the corner of your eye and moved towards her. “Dance with us?” You ask her with your hand held out.She places her hand in yours and lets herself get dragged over to the makeshift dance floor. After twirling her towards the boys, the four of you jump around together. The happy smiles on her children’s faces meant the world to Wanda, and the smile on her face meant the world to you.

A slower song came on, and you took Billy’s hand to let him twirl you around, which isn’t very smooth with the height difference but it was the fun you were having that counted. “You should dance with mom.” He said, pushing you towards Wanda. You tap on Tommy’s shoulder. “Excuse me sir, do you mind if I steal the lady for a dance?” He happily hands over the dance to you. Behind your back the boys high five each other, with smug smiles on their faces.

You slow dance with Wanda all throughout the song. The soft hint of her perfume spread around you, as you spun her around. Once the song came to an end you separated again, but something felt different. Neither one of you could wipe the smile off of your face. That was until you checked the time, “This has been a lot of fun, but I should head home.” Both Billy and Tommy come running towards you and engulf you in a big hug, “Thank you for hanging out with us today.” You hug them back, “We had a lot of fun.” They step away again as you tell them that you had a great time as well.

Wanda walked you towards the door and stepped outside with you. “Again thank you so much for doing this. I don’t know how I can repay you.” You smiled at the idea that popped up in your head. “How about you let me take you out on a date?” A smile started playing on Wanda's lips, “I would love that, let’s do it.”

“Mooom.” Was heard from inside the house. “Duty calls, text me the details?” With a nod and a wave, you make your way back to your car. You weren’t able to wipe the smile off of your face the whole drive home, you were going to go on a date with Wanda.

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#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda #wanda maximov #tommy and billy #billy and tommy #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff

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