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twola · 9 months

Note

im just wondering if you could do a short story with arthur getting ‘jealous’ of you at a bar for flirting with other men? 👀 and he later makes you regret pissing him off? *wink wink*

Learning The Hard Way

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

In which Arthur needs to teach you a lesson.

taglist: @pinkiemme, @redwritr, @mykneeshurt, @bimbo-dollz @verai-marcel @shootybangbang @cowboydisaster

CW: There’s a bit of back and forth in this one… that devolves into physicality. Obviously, I do not condone any type of domestic violence. So we’re gonna go with that this type of play is consensual.

Many thanks to my meowdy pardners - @verai-marcel, @shootybangbang, and @redwritr - for helping me shine this one shot until it gleams!

Your voice rings out in the night through the camp, where Lemoyne’s heavy humidity hangs low. “You ain’t my husband, you ain’t my daddy, you ain’t anyone to tell me how to do my job!”

“You listen here- ”

You burst out of the tent and stomp toward the lakeshore, away from the orange firelight glowing toward the center of camp. Fortunately, the night is loud enough, and your voice doesn’t jar the entire camp, drowned out by cicadas and the rumble of men drinking after dinner.

Not that you’re particularly concerned about making a scene. No, you couldn’t give a shit about that. Your temper flares and your boots slap against the muddy grown as you clench your fists, skirts swishing at the speed of your gait.

But even with your artificially elongated stride, the loud footsteps that follow you eventually catch up to you as you reach the wood line away from the glen.

You’re yanked back by your elbow and turned around to come face to face with an equally aggravated outlaw, wrinkles set deeply in his frown as his eyes narrow under the brim of his dark hat.

“I’ll damn well tell you when you’re bein’ stupid about a job. Coulda got yourself picked up by the law on that last stage,” he hisses, and you scowl in return as you yank back your arm from his grip, “Ain’t no way you’re doing this one.”

“No, Arthur. Just because we’re sleepin’ together doesn’t mean you can order me around like some little housewife.”

Arthur Morgan’s scowl deepens. “You ain’t comin’ on this job and that’s final.”

“Fuck you.” You seethe, turning on your heel before he grabs at your arm again, yanking you backward.

“Get your ass back in that tent, you little-”

He doesn’t see the whip-fast arc of your other hand before it connects with his cheek. It sends his hat flying to the ground and he immediately lets go of your arm, reeling from the blow.

“It’s over. I’ll get my things out of your tent and back to my own. You ain’t gonna treat me like I’m some prissy little thing. I don’t need this and I don’t need you.” You enunciate the last word with venom in your tone, spinning on your heel again to walk in the other direction, along the wood line, skirting the edge of the camp toward where the horses are hitched.

You needed some kind of outlet to quell the hotness of your blood after the fight, and stomping around camp wasn't doing it.

Hiking your skirts, you hurry toward your spry little gelding, dapple coated and one boy you know you could always count on. He neighs softly as you untie his rein frm the hitching post. You run your hand through his black mane.

“C’mon now boy. Let’s get outta camp to blow off some steam, sound good?”

As if he can understand you, he nudges against your shoulder with his nose and you laugh as you move to pull yourself up into his saddle. You tighten the strap on the holster mounted on his saddle, your repeater at the ready should you need it.

Without a look back, you guide him into the freshly-borne night, at a gallop before you even hit the main road.

But alas, breathless riding through Scarlett Meadows can quell your aggravation but so much. As the moon rises in the sky, you slow your gelding down upon the red-dirt path leading into Rhodes - the Parlour House in the distance is lit up, beckoning visitors with its warm glow.

A drink or two. That would certainly help you unwind.

Laughter and music waft into the warm night as you slide down from your horse, hitching him to the post right outside the main porch. You straighten your skirts before tucking back stray hairs along your temple as you step onto the porch and push your way through the door.

Indeed, the saloon is full of people tonight gaily drinking away their wages. You weave your way through the crowd to the bar, where you order yourself a whiskey from the bartender, tossing him a few coins when he slides the glass to you.

The drink goes down far too quickly to alleviate your frustration. Barely takes the edge off. It’s not the first time you and Arthur have gone at it - but you know, you know you were right. You were robbing stages before Arthur was your bedmate, before you joined the gang. He’s just going to have to learn to give you your space to do your work.

Hell, no one ever told him not to go on a job. Damn double standards.

Though… you can’t lie to yourself too much. There is a corner of your heart that is warmed by the fact he’s concerned for you - that he wants you safe. No one has wanted that for years.

No. You were an outlaw first. And damned if Arthur Morgan makes you some camp filly to warm his bed.

“Why, ma’am, you look like you could use another drink.”

You turn your head toward the man. His cheeks are flushed with drink and the starched collar of his shirt is unbuttoned at the neck. A silken waistcoat. Probably a Gray or a Braithwaite cousin. Pomaded dark hair and a clean-shaven face. All of the trappings of a feckless rich boy who had never seen a hard day’s work in his life.

Completely the opposite of Arthur.

You give a smile, leaning on your elbow, “Suppose I could…”

He nods to the bartender immediately, and a glass of whiskey appears in front of you at the bar.

You sip at it slowly as he steps closer, his elbows nearly touching yours. A subtle air of fancy cologne; of bergamot and southern jasmine, wafts off of him as he begins to engage you in conversation.

One drink turns into two. Turns into three.

The man’s arm wraps around your waist, landing on your hip, pulling you to near sit in his lap on the barstool. “Pretty little thing like you - we don’t get that much here out in Rhodes.”

You lean into him. Who knows where this could lead. Maybe you could have a little fun tonight. Maybe you could rob him after. Maybe he was just what you need to get a certain brooding outlaw out of your system.

“What do you say about headin’ upstairs for the night?” You whisper as you toy with the lapel of his waistcoat. The golden chain of his pocket watch glints under the lanterns. A sly smile creeps across your face.

He can barely contain himself, grinning from ear to ear, and leans in to nip at your jaw. You giggle in response. He helps you slide off of his lap and presses his lips to your ear, whispering things he wants to do to you all night as he squeezes your hip.

“Just you wait here, sweet thing - I’ll get us a room and we can continue on.”

You smile a roguish, knowing grin that betrays your intent as you return to the barstool. The bartender pushes another glass of whiskey in front of you, which you down quickly, sucking air between your teeth as it burns on the way down.

You tense up as you feel a body moving too close behind you, a man with a large frame leaning into the bar behind you, crowding you in.

The tang of tobacco and whiskey wafts into your nose before you’re yanked from your seat.

By the time you’ve regained your bearings and your footing as you’ve been dragged out the side door of the Parlour House, you recognize what’s going on.

Just like you recognize that black hat.

“Get off me, Arthur.” You yell but are fairly helpless to do anything but be dragged along the path to the empty stable.

The outlaw gruffly snorts in your direction, his large hand clamped on your upper arm. As you reach the stable, your shoulders slam against the wooden wall of the workroom he had cornered you into.

“Your goddamn mouth - I need to remind you who you belong to.” Arthur hisses, groping roughly at your breast with one hand. The other grasps at your skirts and starts hiking them upward. You’re forced face down on the workbench, Arthur’s hand across your back to hold you down, your bucking unable to move against his strength. You squawk indignantly as your bloomers are yanked down your thighs and puddle near your ankles.

“Sure as fuck, ain’t you-”

The loud smack of skin on skin cuts you off, and you yelp in painful surprise at the sting of his palm on the bare, pale skin of your behind.

“Wanna try again?”

Your ass throbs as he removes his large hand from your skin, but with his other placed down hard against the small of your back, you’re unable to move from where he has you pinned to the table.

“I said, sure as fuck ain’t you-agh!”

You cry out, louder, as he swings again, hitting you square across your rear with a searing smack.

“Honey, ain’t making me happy to do this, but you gotta learn your lesson, and seems like this is the only way to get through that thick head o’ yours.”

You hiss at him, glaring daggers.

Smack.

“Changed yer mind yet?”

“Fuck you.”

Smack.

After the fifth blow, tears start to leak from your eyes as you clench your fingers on the table. You aren’t going to be able to ride for a week at this rate - your ass is red and hot, but you also can’t deny the moisture accumulating just below, starting to trickle down your inner thigh. Goddamnit.

“You belong to that man you were battin’ your eyes at?” He seethes behind you, and you growl in response, unwilling to give him satisfaction.

Smack.

The eighth blow makes you cry out in pain, and Arthur falters. When he removes his hand from your rear, he slides his palm down to trail over your thigh for a moment. He pauses, pulling back up and rubbing his palm over your behind almost tenderly. But you know, you know, that he felt your slick as he swept his fingers across the backs of your thighs.

“Y’ready to stop all this nonsense?” Arthur drawls, softly, slowly, as if he were trying to calm a skittish horse. The circles he’s gently rubbing on your sore ass feel almost pleasant, and you don’t clench your fingers nearly as hard on the edge of the table. Your tears have stopped, leaving a drying trail down your cheeks.

You don’t respond - you can’t - because at that moment, he slips his hand down, down between your thighs to caress your glistening folds, and you gasp in surprised pleasure as he presses his knuckle against your clit. You widen your legs without thinking, giving him more access.

“Think you are…” he rasps, and gently moves his fingers against you, placing one arm on the table next to you to lean over your frame. His large frame smothers yours, clothed hips brushing against yours gently.

You whine and shiver beneath him. You know you’ve already lost.

“What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

“I-I… agh- I need-” You stumble over your words, your knees shaking as he pushes that finger within your cunt, suckling on your earlobe as he leans further over you. You can feel his thickening cock against the back of your thigh as he gently presses his hips forward against you in time with the strokes of his finger.

Arthur presses a second finger inside you and a needy cry escapes your throat, your hand shooting forward to grab his, forcing your fingers through his free hand. His breath is warm against your ear and he chuckles, curling his fingers as you moan. God, his hands are so big, his fingers filling you so much better than your own.

“F -fuck …” you stutter out, pressing your hips back against his hand, “A-Arthur… I need you.”

The outlaw extricates his hand from between your legs and you whine in dismay at the loss. Strong hands encircle your waist and lift you from where you are laid out on the table, and through no small feat, he turns you and winds his hands under your thighs, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist, your arms wound around his neck.

It’s then that you look at him, for maybe the first time all day, caught drowning in the pools of his blue eyes. You can barely feel him stepping forward, carrying you, his hands firm under your thighs, careful not to touch the inflamed skin of your rear.

Your back is pressed against the wooden wall of the barn, but he doesn’t crowd you in at all. He leans in, and uncontrollably, you do too. When your mouths meet, you give a little sigh, opening your lips and permitting him to enter, his tongue pressing against yours as a rumble bubbles up from his chest.

“Shouldn’ta yelled at you,” he breathes against your lips, and as much as you can, you shake your head at him.

“Shouldn’ta run off,” you whisper in between kisses, the wet sounds of lips meeting nearly drowning out your low reply.

“Shouldn’ta hit you.”

“You know I liked it.” You whisper with the hint of a smile ghosting across your lips.

“Little spitfire, you are.”

Arthur presses his hips forward into yours, and the long, full column of his cock in his pants presses against your bare folds, and you moan and throw your head back, gyrating your hips against him. He swears under his breath, one hand leaving your leg and furiously working the buttons of his fly as he retracts his hips just enough to work his pants open.

It's only a moment more before you feel the hot head of his cock press against your weeping opening, and he presses his lips to yours desperately as he juts his hips forward, greedily swallowing your moan as he quickly pushes himself inside you.

Your hands fly to his hair, fingers interlaced with honeyed locks, and his hand returns to your thigh as he starts to retract his hips and thrusts them upward in a slow rhythm, the wet noise of skin joining loud and stark in the night.

“ ‘M yours, Arthur.” You breathe as your eyes flutter with the slow, languorous rhythm he’s set. He leans in and takes your lips in a passionate kiss as he presses himself deeper within you.

“Was never a question,” he replies with a smirk, as he draws back enough that his forehead still leans against yours as he rolls his hips upward.

You frown slightly, but Arthur leans in for another kiss that steals your breath away. He’s a natural, of course, in the art of stealing. Your breath, your heart. Everything.

“You’re mine, Darlin’,” Arthur whispers against your lips, “You’re mine, ‘nd I’m yours.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #red dead fandom #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption #twolafic

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anto-pops · 1 year

Text

Atonement PART 2 - Dark!Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: "Love has within it a redemptive power. And there is a power there that eventually transforms individuals. Just keep being friendly to that person. Just keep loving them, and they can't stand it too long. Oh, they react in many ways in the beginning. They react with guilt feelings, and sometimes they'll hate you a little more at that transition period, but just keep loving them. And by the power of your love they will break down under the load. That's love, you see. It is redemptive."

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, hurt/comfort, explicit sexual content, rough sex

This ended up being 8 pages of straight sin, I refused to let the make-up sex be short so SORRY if it's a lot of horny word babble LMAO

As always, the full fic can be found here on Ao3! Part 1 of Atonement can also be found here on Tumblr

The Clagmar Coast was brutally cold.

You’d apparated yourself and Sebastian to a secluded cove nestled between the rocky mountains and the shoreline. It was far from the main roads the village folk used to travel this way, giving you a modicum of privacy that you planned to make good on for the night. Trudging through the chilled, wet sand towards a dilapidated cabin, Sebastian shuddered against the piercing breeze.

“That pile of wood won’t do shit– we’ll freeze to death before morning.”

Biting back a snide comment of your own, you rolled your eyes instead. “It’s just an illusionment charm. See?”

Sebastian followed the line of your pointed finger and spotted a shimmering glow emanating a foot away from the door. He had to focus hard to see it, but now that he knew what he was looking for, it was easier to pinpoint the blurred movement of the spell, as though it were swaying in sync with the breeze.

“Exactly how much prep work went into this scheme of yours?” Sebastian asked, amusement coloring his tone as he glanced at you.

You deflected the veiled compliment with a shrug and kept your eyes trained on the cabin, increasing your pace to escape the icy wind and the feeling of his eyes on you. “Enough to get us this far. There’s bags inside already packed with some essentials, and extra clothes you can change into. I’ll need to double check a few things before we leave in the morning but feel free to get some sleep– I’m sure you’re tired after today.”

Sebastian frowned as you strode ahead, fixing his narrowed eyes on the back of your head as you disappeared through the shimmering veil of magic. He quickly followed suit, emerging on the other side to find a wholly intact cabin with warm firelight spilling through the open doorway. You were already inside, rummaging around in a desk for Merlin knows what to occupy yourself in favor of talking.

What the hell was your problem?

“Can I help you with anything? Maybe a fresh set of eyes will–”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off hurriedly as you rose from your crouched spot behind the thick oak table. “I mean– I’ll take care of it, thank you. It’s okay, really. Go get cleaned up, I’m sure you’re itching to ditch the prison uniform.”

He was still rubbed the wrong way by your sudden change in behavior, but he allowed himself a quick look down at the tattered fabric clinging to his scraggly form. You had a point. “Fine. Where are the extra clothes?”

You ignored the bite in his tone, fixing your eyes over his shoulder as you pointed him down the hallway to the bedroom. “In there. The washroom is on the right, and there should be soap in one of the bags. Take whatever you need.”

Without another word in your direction, Sebastian strode down the hallway and disappeared into the room, letting the door dramatically slam shut behind him hard enough to shake the walls. You didn’t have it in you to be bugged by it though. Instead you sighed, deflating against the surface of the desk while your heart hammered away in your chest.

Why was it suddenly so difficult to be near him? After months of planning and a never ending slew of sleepless nights, he was finally with you again, so why were you abruptly shutting yourself down in his presence?

Maybe it was because having him back made the last two years real. Seeing him in the flesh validated every terrible thought that had haunted your mind until now; that he wasn’t the same, that he was a broken man, and that deep down he probably hated you for what you had done to him. Sure, you’d saved him, but anyone would be grateful to make it out of a situation like that alive. The kiss meant nothing. It was simply a ‘thank you’ that you didn’t deserve.

These thoughts were getting you nowhere.

With a resolute sigh, you walked around the desk to collapse in a creaky chair, pinching the bridge of your nose before you started unraveling the map Ominis had given you months ago. It was covered in your messy scrawl, stray blots of ink staining the corners and betraying just how much time you’d actually spent slaving over your desperate plan.

The time passed in silence as you cross referenced the routes you’d charted leading from the coast to your next destination. Since there had been no way to know how rescuing Sebastian would go, the last leg of your journey was relatively unmapped. All you knew for certain was that staying in England was out of the question.

Scotland was far too close for comfort to consider any longer, so you axed it from your mind. France was promising, but also just a stone's throw away from London should the Ministry choose to expand their inevitable search. At the very least you could attempt to travel to one of the ports in the southern region to get farther away on a ship, but that still left the question of where the two of you would go unanswered.

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, your thoughts pulling you in a million different directions while the quill in your grip failed to obey. The fire crackling across the room was all you could hear, but your nerves had you on edge. More Ministry officials could appear at any moment, and while you were fairly certain you hadn’t been followed, your experiences in life thus far had taught you to expect the worst and hope for the best.

The feathered pen hung limp in your fingers as you shoved the heels of your palms into your eyes hard enough to see shapes, and you swore softly under your breath. But then the sudden feeling of a warm, calloused hand ghosting down your neck had you releasing the quill and jumping back in your seat, your wide eyes flying to Sebastian’s as he yanked his arm away. His hair was still wet from his bath, the dripping strands soaking through the fabric of the borrowed, black button down he wore. Your heart hammered in your ears as you took in his appearance. Despite the more slender frame he now bore, the clothes didn’t swallow him up, instead accentuating his long legs and lithely muscled biceps. His long fingers curled into fists at his side, and you observed as his entire upper half tensed up uncomfortably.

“Are you afraid of me?”

The question pulled your attention from Sebastian’s body back to his stormy expression, and your stomach flipped. He looked angry. More than that, he sounded almost… offended.

“Of course not,” you answered quickly and glanced back at the map. “You just startled me– I didn’t hear you leave the bedroom.”

His frown deepened, seemingly darkening the rings under his eyes in a way that conveyed he didn’t believe you in the slightest. “Then can you look at me when you speak to me?”

That commanding tenor in his voice made the hair on your arms stand on end, and you suppressed a shudder. This version of Sebastian was relatively new to you– he had never spoken to you with such a domineering timbre before, and you found yourself heeding his request. When your eyes met his, he seemed to relax a fraction of an inch, moving to perch on the edge of the desk so he wasn’t towering over you like an imposing statue.

“Why is it so hard for you to be near me?” He asked quietly, his eyes jumping between yours as if he could find the answer hidden somewhere in your gaze. “Why does staring at me make you look like you’re going to be sick? Am I really that far gone in your mind?”

It was like a punch to the gut, hearing him imply that you were unnerved by his presence. Your brows drew together, and you instinctively sat forward in your chair to lean closer to him. “No, Sebastian, never. I could never think that of you– I’m sorry…” You trailed off and hung your head sadly, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. “The truth is I look at you and I feel guilty. Nothing I say or do can take away the last two years, and I don’t even know where to begin to make things right.”

“I mean, killing two Aurors was a pretty good place to start,” he chuckled darkly, shaking his head as though in disbelief. “If you feel so terrible about it, why did you turn me in? Surely you’ve done worse, what with your abilities and all that. Me killing Solomon should have been a minuscule blip on your moral compass.”

You scowled, blinking back the fat tears that threatened to spill forth. “I’m not scared now, but I was back then. You were unrecognizable, Sebastian, it was like you were possessed– and when all was said and done you just… disappeared for days. I had to fight Ranrok by myself, Fig died, and then I single handedly uprooted a five hundred year old secret and undid all of the Keepers’ work because despite everything you had done, a part of me still wanted to– I wanted to–”

The tears finally came, a choked sob ripping its way from your throat, and you buried your head in your hands to hide your face in shame. You heard papers shuffling as Sebastian angled himself to face you better, and when he lifted his hand as though to touch your shoulder, he stopped himself at the last second. It curled into a limp fist that fell against the desk.

His voice was much softer when he finally asked, “Wanted what? And what did you do?”

Sebastian was desperate to know what you were thinking. The need to understand your mentality and find out what you meant in regards to the Keepers was overwhelming; he remembered the pensive memory he’d viewed with you before everything fell apart, and how Isidora Morganach had harnessed the ability to remove a person’s pain. Was that what you were talking about?

Lifting your head, you fixed your swollen eyes on his hand in front of you. You decided it was easier to admit what you’d done if you couldn’t see his penetrating gaze boring down on you. “I still wanted to help you. I wanted to help Anne for you. So I took the power from the Repository– the same magic the Keepers made me swear to protect– I stole it and never went back to the Map Chamber. I assume they must know by now what I did, but it was easier to just avoid them after everything.”

Everything was starting to click into place. Your potent aura outside of King’s Cross Station made a lot more sense with the added knowledge that Isidora’s magic was now in fact yours, living and flowing within you. It had felt shockingly volatile, so at odds with the underlying warm, ancient magic you’d wielded since your fifth year. The combined energies had been like a vortex of light and dark, cutting and soothing the air simultaneously as you’d killed William without hesitation.

All for him?

Sebastian’s heartbeat kicked up in his chest as he finally let himself reach for you, and this time you didn’t leap away from his touch, instead letting him cradle your clasped, trembling hands in his own. His firm hold imbued you with the strength to look up at him, and when he saw the tearful glimmer in your eyes, Sebastian knew then that he had already forgiven you for turning him in. Even before seeing how raw your guilt had left you, he’d always known he would return to you. It was what had fueled his attempt at escaping Azkaban in the first place; the chance to see you again, and to apologize for ever taking you for granted.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he brought your hands to his lips and murmured the apology against your knuckles, his breath ghosting over your skin causing you to shiver. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have known better than to keep pushing you and Ominis the way I did– and when I asked you for help with Anne, I never meant for you to do something you didn’t want to do– least of all something that would change who you are.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, turning your palms over so that you could intertwine your fingers with Sebastian’s much longer ones. It didn’t escape your attention how perfectly your hands still fit together. “I wanted to. You didn’t make me do anything, and while the side effects are ever… evolving, I’m still me. Just a bit more prone to violence, I suppose.”

He cocked his head to the side in interest. You hadn’t previously been one to start fights. During his time at school with you, it was often you mediating altercations and trying to break up arguments before things could escalate. At least, where Sebastian was concerned, you did. “Oh? So that marionette move you pulled on Singer earlier was entirely of your own volition?”

A sliver of trepidation coursed through him when your expression changed, morphing into a remorseless sneer that he didn’t recognize. “Yes. He was going to kill you.”

Nodding slowly, Sebastian allowed his next quip to die on his tongue in favor of tracing small circles on the back of your hand. He wasn’t sure what to say. As much as he knew you wanted to believe Azkaban had changed him drastically, the situation seemed to be the exact opposite. It was you who had gone through something of a rebirth, and it piqued Sebastian’s interest to no end.

What else about you had changed?

In a bid to switch topics, you pulled your hands away from Sebastian’s to rifle through the desk drawer. He watched you curiously as you found what you were looking for, and you tentatively pulled out his wand. The familiar checkered handle caught his attention instantaneously, and his bark of laughter was ripe with pleasant surprise. Your heart leapt at the sound, and you smiled in spite of yourself.

His fingers curled around the base slowly, as though he were in disbelief of the thin bit of wood. “You kept it? I thought the Ministry took it for good after I was arrested.”

“Mm, technically they did. Ominis gave it to me a few months ago when I asked him to help me track you down. I was just as surprised when he handed it over, but I think he believed I’d find you in time. He wanted you to get it back.”

Sebastian’s mouth opened and shut a few times as he took in your words, a fondness sweeping over his features. “Ominis helped you break me out?”

You nodded once, then paused as you reconsidered his role in everything. “Well, sort of. He gave me information about your transfer to London a few months ago. I asked him if he wanted to come with us once I found you, but he wanted to stay in case the Ministry started pestering Anne about your escape–”

“Anne is alive?” He cut you off in a hushed whisper, and his next few breaths seemed to shake his entire body. “How?”

You swallowed, “Isidora’s spell. The same one she used on her father— only I altered it. I can take a person’s pain but leave their soul untouched. She’s more comfortable now, at the very least, but her curse is as much a part of her as my ancient magic is a part of me. I can’t completely cure her of it, not without stripping her completely of what makes her whole. She has more time though, and it’s pain free.”

You watched his face with rapt interest, searching his expression for any signs of anger or disappointment, but to your surprise the crease between Sebastian’s brows vanished, and he looked wholly content. When he didn’t immediately say anything, you pressed him, “What are you thinking?”

Sebastian lifted his wandless hand to cradle the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to his until your foreheads were pressed together. He smelled strongly of the lavender soaps you’d packed, but underneath it was his own heady scent of cedar, and something akin to pine needles. You shamelessly sucked in a breath, and you felt his hold on the nape of your neck tighten a fraction.

“Thank you,” his dark eyes were trained solely on you, and the close proximity made your head spin, your eyes darting down to his lips momentarily. “You have no idea what it means to hear you say that. I fully expected her to… not be around, in the event I ever made it out. More time is fine– it’s perfect, even. I only ever wanted for her to be able to live the way she wanted, and it sounds like she can now thanks to you.”

Reaching up to wrap your fingers around his forearms, you flashed him a watery smile. “I really am sorry, Sebastian. For everything. If I could go back and change things I would– I should never have let the Ministry take you away–”

“Stop apologizing,” he implored you, his eyes dropping to your lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He couldn’t be more wrong. “I have everything to be sorry for.”

“Hardly. I’m here now, aren’t I?” His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the sight had your stomach churning expectantly.

“You are.”

“I thought about you all the time while I was there, you know.” Sebastian set his wand down on the desk to lightly grip your chin, tilting your face up to meet his hungry gaze. “Sometimes I would lose myself in my own head for days thinking about you. I missed you… I missed us.”

The minuscule distance between the two of you was driving any coherent thoughts from your mind. Suddenly all you could focus on was Sebastian’s thumb dragging over your bottom lip, and the glimmer of arousal that was growing steadily behind his full, dark lashes. You gave yourself a moment to appreciate it all; his hand on the back of your neck, the pure want reflected in his eyes, and the tantalizing feeling of simply being near him after two long, painstaking years.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Sebastian whispered the promise against your parted lips. “I need to know that you’re alright with whatever happens after, because if I deny myself of you any longer, I can’t say that I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

His husky tone had you clenching your knees together under the desk, the visceral need for your baser urges to be satiated taking root in your gut. This was real– he forgave you, and he still wanted you, even after everything you had inadvertently put him through.

The realization broke down the rest of your barriers, leading you to nod in his firm hold, and before you knew it Sebastian had captured your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. His hand on the back of your neck held you fast to his mouth as he released your chin, sweeping his legs over the desk so the long appendages trapped you between them, and when you heard miscellaneous items get knocked to the ground in the process, you barely reacted.

Sebastian was leaning over you completely, your head angled up in a way that left you entirely at his mercy as he ran his thumbs along your jaw and probed his tongue into your mouth. You sighed against him, bringing your hands up to rest on his thighs for better leverage, and when your nails dug into the fabric of his dark trousers, you felt him jolt with a throaty groan.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me,” Sebastian uttered in between kisses, and you boldly began trailing your palms up towards the growing bulge between his legs. Winding his fingers in the hair at the base of your neck, he tugged you away from his face to fix you with a heated look. “When I wasn’t thinking about you, I was dreaming about you. I imagined this happening in so many different ways– I never stopped fantasizing about the pretty sounds you would make, or how you would look falling apart under me.”

Your hands finally came to rest on his trapped erection, and the generous squeeze you gave him had him pinching his eyes shut in an effort to keep from bucking into your touch. “Show me,” you begged. “Please, Sebastian, show me everything, I missed you.”

Sebastian released you for a mere moment to slide off the desk completely, and then his hands were back on you, swiftly tugging you out of your chair by the scruff of your shirt to slam your back against the wall behind you. Then he was kissing you again, swallowing up your startled gasp as he roughly wedged his knee between your legs to hold you upright. When Sebastian broke away to trail his teeth down your jaw and along the sensitive skin of your throat, he rolled his hips against you, relishing in the wanton moan the friction pulled from your lips.

His hands began slowly and methodically undoing the buttons of your top, taking his time as he lightly nipped at your pulse once, twice, before finally latching his lips around the skin to work a proprietary bruise into your flesh. There was nothing gentle about it– especially once he moved his mouth lower to the hollow of your throat, licking along your collarbone before biting into the tender curve of your shoulder.

“Fuck!” Your raspy cry shot straight to Sebastian’s cock, and you felt it strain against your hip through the restrictive material of his pants. “S-Sebastian, please–”

“You sound damn good, darling,” he mouthed wetly against the bite, pressing a chaste kiss there to soothe the throbbing ache. “I’d be an idiot to not take my time with you. Let a newly freed man enjoy himself, would you?”

While you understood his sentiment, the heat pooling in your gut was a very legitimate threat. Between his breath ghosting over your wet, marked skin, and the incessant movement of his knee pressed against your core, your composure was quickly slipping. It had been a long time since you’d actually been intimate with someone, but beyond that, you hadn’t so much as touched yourself in months.

You melted against the wall under Sebastian’s persistent attention, mewling softly when he undid the last button on your shirt to immediately begin kneading your breasts. The chill of the cabin swept over you for all of a second before you felt him take one of your pert nipples between his fingers to twist it gently, and then a hot flush was creeping down your bare chest. You writhed in his hold at the feeling, your hands flying up to claw at his neck when he shamelessly branded you under your jaw, and your shallow panting made Sebastian’s head spin with barely contained need– he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out his teasing for very long.

“Merlin, you’re so fucking sensitive. How long have you been waiting to have me touch you like this, hm?”

Sebastian let go of your breasts to remove your arms from around him, but before you could voice your displeasure, he had pinned your wrists overhead with one hand against the wall, graciously sweeping his eyes down your exposed front. His free hand came up to cradle your jaw, gently angling your face to the side so he could take in his handy work. The bright, fresh hickeys that now lined the column of your throat catered deeply to the primitive part of him that demanded he stake his claim on you any way he could.

You watched as Sebastian ate you alive with his eyes, his hooded gaze darkening immeasurably further when you shifted so that his knee was nestled right where you wanted it, dragging a soft exhale from your kiss-swollen lips, and fuck– his fantasies couldn’t hold a damn candle to the real thing.

With a rough growl, Sebastian pulled your arms off the wall and hauled you against his chest, and you had the good grace to wrap your trembling legs around his slender waist to aid him in carrying you from the living room. His fingers dug into the small of your back when he kicked the door to the bedroom open, tenderly kissing your temple right before he was tossing you down on the sheets.

“You’re wearing way too much clothing for my liking,” you groused up at him, eyeing at how he palmed himself through the tenting fabric between his legs.

He flashed you a smirk, dragging his hand up to the catch of his pants before he hummed, “Mm, guess it would be a shame to soil my new wardrobe.”

“Wait–” you sat up and scrambled to the edge of the mattress, placing your hands over his to halt him in place. “Let me.”

Sebastian’s vision flashed white when you peered up at him through your lashes, his cock making its interest in that option very apparent. He swallowed and nodded, pulling his hands away to let you undress him. Unlike him, you didn’t waste any time; your nimble fingers slipped under the waistband of both his trousers and briefs, and then you were tugging both sets of attire down his thighs. You let him help by shucking everything away so he could step out of the material freely, and then you were openly taking in the sight of his impressive length.

Sebastian was big– moreover, he was completely hard, the swollen head of his glistening cock already leaking small beads of precum. You hummed pensively, considering the task before you as you took him in your fist and gave him a good, firm stroke, with a fucking perfect twist around the head that drew a moan from him that he had no chance of biting back. The sound imbued you with renewed confidence, watching him with heated eyes as you gently angled the head against your soft, plush lips.

When you began pressing featherlight kisses to the tip, Sebastian couldn’t stop himself from shivering. You smiled at the feeling as you dragged your mouth slowly down the side of his shaft, using your hands to rub and stroke him in the areas you overlooked as you savored the taste of him on your tongue.

It was taking every drop of willpower in Sebastian’s body not to grab your hair and start fucking your face, but he forced himself to keep his hands at his side and enjoy the sensation of you mouthing wetly against him. The sight of you on your knees in front of him, eagerly hunching forward to grasp as much of him as you could in your smaller hands, made the self-restraint worth it.

When your tongue came to flick at his soaked slit, Sebastian twitched, and then your mouth was sealing over the sensitive head and you were sucking, wet and messy and so fucking perfect, and Sebastian’s head tipped back, breathing a series of broken little whimpers into the empty air.

“Fuck,” he managed to grit through clenched teeth, his stomach tensing beneath his shirt. “Fuck, darling, fucking hell–”

You sucked him down further, flattening your tongue to press deliciously to the underside of his length at the same time you hummed, and Sebastian choked out a stuttered moan as his hands finally flew to your hair. The sharp sting made you wince slightly, but you relished in the scrape of his nails along your scalp, and then you were letting him pull you further onto his cock until the head hit the back of your throat.

There was no helping your strangled, choking sound, but you fought through the urge to pull away, instead swallowing around him, and Sebastian swore nothing born of this Earth could possibly be this amazing.

His mind was spinning in fucking circles as you let him thrust into your warm, inviting mouth for as long as you were able to take it. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you felt them run down your cheeks to intermingle with your spit-slick mouth. The growing ache between your legs was bordering on unbearable at this point, and you shamelessly dropped one of your hands to your clothed cunt to press against yourself through the fabric.

Sebastian groaned at the sight of you touching yourself with his cock spearing into your mouth, and when you lifted your eyes to stare up at him from way down below, he nearly came then and there from your appearance.

In a flash, Sebastian was pulling you off of him with a strangled grunt, thick strands of spit and pre-cum sinfully dangling between your lips and his throbbing member. “Fuck– f-feels too damn good– I don’t want to finish yet.”

Your chest heaved as you greedily sucked down gulps of air, gazing up at Sebastian through hooded, fucked-out eyes that brought him to his knees before you to slip your unbuttoned shirt over the bruised curve of your shoulders. It fell away, leaving your upper half completely exposed to him now, and he hungrily traced his hands down the supple rise of your breasts before pushing you back against the covers.

When Sebastian tugged your pants away, he may as well have ripped them off with the intensity he exhibited. You were flushing darkly from your head all the way to your toes– all that separated you from him now was your thin cotton underwear, but not for long. Those long, freckled fingers had looped under the material, coyly dragging it down your goosebump riddled thighs before slipping it over your feet and tossing it over his shoulder.

Sebastian stood to his full height to begin unbuttoning his own shirt, and the dark material contrasted beautifully against his pale complexion. As the buttons fell away, you got your first glimpse of his bare chest since reuniting with him, only to discover there were raised, jagged scars that ran across his pecs and along his ribs. Your brows slammed down and your stomach dropped at the sight, and Sebastian paused as he took in your reaction to the markings.

“What happened?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but the hoarseness to it was apparent.

Following the strained bob of his adam’s apple, you watched as he continued to remove his top with a sureness that, at the very least, told you he wasn’t in any pain. “There’s plenty of other things to watch out for in Azkaban, not just the Dementors,” he replied vaguely with a shockingly unbothered tone.

Despite his casual demeanor and the nonchalant way he continued to strip himself down to nothing, you couldn’t fight the rising wave of guilt that threatened to pull you under. It was another reminder of what you’d done to him–

“Stop it.”

Your eyes jumped from his chest back to his dark gaze, and he was shaking his head at you in a scolding manner. “I can see exactly what you’re thinking, and this isn’t your fault. Don’t even try apologizing again.”

Your mouth opened and closed fitfully, the words you wanted to say dying on your tongue before you could voice them, and you sighed. But then Sebastian was shrugging his shirt off his shoulders, letting the material flutter to the floor unceremoniously before he began to crawl towards you, caging your body beneath his own. With him laying on top of you this way, his long legs draped lazily in between yours, you were able to ground yourself a bit more and shake the negativity from your mind.

Maybe he didn’t want you saying sorry, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t still show him how apologetic you were. Your hands flew to his cheeks, pulling his lips to yours with a tenacity that rivaled the strength of a Graphorn. Sebastian let you, shamelessly enjoying the mixed taste of himself on your sweet lips until the urge to move was overwhelming him, and he shifted in his spot between your sprawled legs to grind his achingly hard shaft between your soaked folds.

You moaned into his mouth, utterly adoring the friction his movements provided your neglected cunt, and you began tracing up his lithely muscled shoulders, ghosting your touch down his back where you felt the angular curve of his shoulder blades and more raised scars beneath your fingertips.

Sebastian kept himself supported on the arm draped beside your head, playing with the unruly strands of your hair until you were mewling and sighing against his lips, and then his other hand was trailing down to your slick heat to swipe through the wetness pooling there.

He chuckled darkly as you rocked your hips into his hand with a needy whine, your nails digging into the skin of his back. “Mm, Sebastian–”

“Want something, darling?”

You were breathless as he probed your entrance with one of his slender digits, then tensing and writhing under him when he pulled his finger away tauntingly. “Fucking– yes, please. T-touch me, please.”

The way he cocked his head to the side with that smug look on his face made your head spin with indignant need. “But I am touching you. I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

As though to punctuate the claim, he trailed his hand higher, pressing down on your bundle of nerves in a way that had you damn near bucking up to chase his touch. A keening sound resonated from your chest, and if looks could kill, Sebastian would have dropped dead on top of you in an instant from your icy glare.

Your voice trembled with barely contained need as you begged, “I want your fingers inside of me. I want your cock inside of me– please, I can’t wait anymore Sebastian, please fuck me–”

Sebastian cut you off with the sudden thrust of a finger breaching your walls, and your head kicked back with a sharp cry of his name as he began steadily working the appendage deeper, willing you to relax for him. He found a steady pace, pumping into you easily as you melted under his attention, your hips writhing back for more after a few heated seconds.

Obliging you with a second finger, Sebastian sealed his mouth over a random patch of skin above your breast, the salt of your skin clinging to his lips as he started to nibble and suck in a bid to gently mark you further. He kept your tight heat spread open as you arched and shuddered beneath him, and as nice as the image was, what was really getting to him were the gorgeous sounds falling from your swollen lips.

After two years without hearing it, Sebastian decidedly had a thing for your voice, but knowing how it sounded when it was hitched and raspy, forming shaky, insistent moans of his name… shit. Sebastian groaned softly, nipping at the blossoming hickey on your chest before he was curling his fingers up and firmly pressing the pad of his thumb against your clit so deliciously, it left you breathless.

The effect his efforts have on you were incredible. Your hips were arching off the bed, head thrown back into the pillows with a choked moan, and Sebastian followed you easily despite all of your brainless writhing.

“F-fuck, fuck, Sebastian,” you whined, your voice loud and spectacular, especially with the way it shook as you seemingly got closer to losing it. All you could do was cling to Sebastian, both hands clutching desperately at his shoulders, his neck, and then your fingers were tangling in his long hair so aggressively, the sting had his cock twitching against your leg.

You were positively wrecked already– gorgeously so– with your eyes glazed and unfocused, your lips parting freely around lyrical moans and mindless praises alike, and your cries of his name came more and more frequently as he curled and pressed his fingers within you. His patience was beginning to run out, though, as his painfully stiff cock continued to rut shamelessly against your thigh.

“What do you think, darling? Are you ready for me?”

Your eyes cracked open slightly, forcing a few deep, rattling breaths into your lungs as Sebastian lessened his ministrations against your core. You’d been so caught up in the building euphoria of your orgasm that you had completely forgotten it wasn’t even his cock making you crumble apart. “Y-Yeah. Been ready since you threw me against the wall…”

Sebastian chuckled at that, rewarding you with a deep, sensual kiss that made your toes curl. He peppered light kisses to the array of bruises he had worked into your skin thus far before sitting back on his heels, withdrawing his fingers from your pulsing heat. You whined softly at the loss, but then you felt Sebastian’s hands curl around your thighs to haul you down the covers so you were flush to his hips, and the luxurious feeling of him rubbing against your slick arousal was enough to have you wriggling back for more.

You were boneless in Sebastian’s hands as he looped his arms under your knees, angling your legs over his shoulders so that he could see all of you as he lined himself up with your entrance. A thrill of excitement sparked through you at the more insistent presses of the brunet’s incredibly solid cock against you. The first firm roll of Sebastian’s hips pulled shaky gasps from both of you as the thick head breached your walls, slick and tight and warm, and Sebastian couldn’t help the breathless moan of your name that fell from his lips then.

“Fuck, you feel amazing, darling– Merlin– you’re so warm, shit.” He leaned forward to plunge himself further into you, taking care to grind slowly after each small, shallow thrust. Your shaky breaths filled the space between the two of you as Sebastian rocked his hips steadily against your ass, everything he had done to prepare you paying off in the form of you taking his cock perfectly, letting him slide deeper with every short plunge of his hips.

Sebastian kept up his patient, easy rhythm, sliding his hands along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs to simultaneously tease you and hold you more firmly in place. You let out a long, whimpering moan, your eyes squeezing shut as Sebastian finally bottomed out, and you savored in the marvelous feeling of being filled by him.

“How’s it feel, love?” Sebastian asked quietly, lowering his head a bit more to nudge his nose against your sweat-slick forehead. The kiss he pressed there soothed you further, and the way you sighed and melted further was proof enough that Sebastian was doing well. “Is it too much?”

“Fuck no,” you groaned, your voice breaking slightly, but you were way too scatter-brained to care. You were completely enveloped by Sebastian in the best possible ways, the initial sting of the thick stretch vanishing entirely with his gentle grinding. “Gods, Sebastian,” you gasped, your lashes fluttering open to make dazed eye contact with your freckled lover. “You’re so big, f-feels so good…”

Sebastian groaned, mouthing wetly against the smooth curve of your knee draped over his shoulder, and when he sank his teeth into the sensitive flesh there, you responded with a keening moan from low in your throat.

He wasn’t pulling out far before he was smoothly rolling his hips back in, setting an achingly slow pace to start with. The way you felt around him was euphoric, your body quaking in time to Sebastian’s steady, languid thrusts. His bruising grip on your thighs had you panting and squirming back against his cock, musing your hair wildly beneath you, and your hands fisted in the covers in a bid to find purchase.

“You’re perfect,” Sebastian moaned his praises into the crook of your leg, increasing the intensity of his thrusts when he felt you arching towards him, the head of his cock brushing deeper and harder. “You’re so fucking perfect– I love you, darling– I never stopped loving you.”

Your denied release from earlier came roaring to life in the pit of your gut as you felt Sebastian’s cock graze over your sweet spot, wanton moans spilling from your lips as you clawed at the sheets and gasped breathlessly. “Sebastian– fuck, I l-love you, I love you so much–” His hips snapped against your ass sharply at your mindless confession, and your lips parted around a pleading cry for more, overwhelmed tears pricking at your clenched eyes as Sebastian obliged you.

With a throaty growl, Sebastian released your legs from his ironclad grip, letting them fall limply against the bed so he could lower himself to snake his arms around your waist and arch you towards him, ramming his cock into you with blinding precision that made you wail his name shamelessly.

“S-Sebastian, please, please– just like that–” you ground your hips back onto your lover, thighs trembling from how good Sebastian fucked you, filling you up deep and rough and just right. The way he dug his fingers into the skin of your waist to slam you back down into his relentless thrusts only served to add fuel to the growing fire in your core, leaving you a sloppy, gasping, pleading mess underneath him.

The two of you were holding on by barely there threads, your looming orgasms building, and you knew Sebastian was close when he buried his head in the crook of your shoulder to pant loudly against your skin. Your arms flew around his neck, clinging to him desperately as you rutted against him, wordlessly urging him to take what he wanted– to finally let go.

Sebastian came with a brutal cry of your name, his rough pumping transforming into sensual, deep grinding, and he hurriedly brought one of his hands to your clit to rub tight, demanding circles against you. The combined feeling of his cock emptying inside of you and the perfect stimulation from his fingers brought you clean over the edge with him, your nails sinking into his skin and leaving angry welts in their wake as you sobbed in ecstasy.

Thoroughly spent, the two of you stayed intertwined for what seemed like hours, but realistically couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes. Sebastian continued to slowly rock his hips into you long after the two of you had come down, until your overstimulated twitches and moans prompted him to gently slide out of your dripping folds, swallowing thickly when he lifted his head to rake over your prone form.

Your half-hooded gaze fixed on Sebastian as he tenderly trailed his hands up over your breasts, ghosting over the trail of love-bites and scratches that now decorated your sternum. His thumb swept up the vulnerable apex of your throat to angle your flushed lips towards his mouth. The kiss held a thousand promises that neither one of you cared to voice in the moment, and you let him nudge you up towards the headboard before he gathered you securely in his arms.

“Thank you.” Sebastian whispered into the top of your head after a few minutes of pleasant silence. You were tucked comfortably against his chest, his arm wrapped around you as he traced tiny shapes and patterns along the curve of your spine. You had been lightly trailing your fingers over the plethora of scars that lined his chest, committing the feeling of each one to memory, but his words made you pause.

“I can’t say I’ve ever been thanked for sex before,” you murmured against his side, and your head jostled when he laughed softly.

“Don’t be stupid– although, yes, definitely thank you for the sex. But I meant ‘thank you’ for everything else.”

Your lips pressed into a hard line, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light hearted when you replied. “Don’t go thanking me too soon. We haven’t even made it out of Ministry territory yet– ow!”

You flinched away from his pinching fingers against your back, the sharp sting throbbing to life– and though it wasn’t a severe pain in the slightest, you craned your head back to glare at him.

His dark eyes sparkled with amusement and an underlying fondness that instantly cooled your temper. “Is it so hard for you to just say ‘you’re welcome, Sebastian’ and kiss me?”

The laugh that bubbled from your throat was like music to Sebastian’s ears, and he realized dimly that it was the first time he had heard it in over two years. He never wanted to stop hearing it, and he vowed to himself then that he would spend every day of the rest of his life trying to make you feel that kind of joy.

“Is that it? If that’s all you wanted, you only needed to ask.”

Sebastian tugged you closer, lazily sweeping his broad hand over the small of your back to press you into him as his lips captured yours in a dizzying kiss. It melted away your lingering tension, and you ran your fingers through his disheveled hair, pushing the overgrown locs out of his face delicately. The fodness in the action had him sighing against your lips, and nothing in this lifetime would ever compare to this moment here with you.

“I love you,” he said, and you cracked your eyes open to see him staring at you with a deeply profound expression. “I meant what I said earlier– I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest, and you managed to flash him a watery smile before sappy tears were running down your cheeks despite your best efforts. “Me too. I’ve always loved you, Sebastian, and I always will. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“How’s forever sound? I have no plans to leave your side anytime soon. That should give us plenty of time to figure out what comes next.”

He stole your lips again, never breaking away as he rolled himself over to cage you completely beneath his taller frame. It was an impassioned kiss, full of desire and desperation, and all you could do was kiss him back with equal fervor, mirroring his wants.

Any concerns drifted from your minds as the two of you got lost in the newfound versions of yourselves, taking exceptional care throughout the night to commit every new thing about the other to memory. The moment held promise for the future— for what you now knew you could have with Sebastian, and you swore to yourself then that you would fight with everything in you to protect this second chance. The Ministry would have to pry Sebastian from your cold, dead hands.

No matter what was to come, your heart felt lighter knowing that the two of you would face it together.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x female!reader #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow #my writing #this shit is so long y'all I'm sorry #if you're gonna read this it's a fucking commitment

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x-reader-things · 7 months

Note

omg bro i’ve been actuallly dying for someone to do buff!reader x arcane characters headcanons - i’ve been working hard at the gym so i’d love to see it pay off with my fav characters pretty please !!

Hello! Thank you for requesting!!

I didn’t really get all of the characters on my list like I wanted to, so I just did Vi, Caitlyn, and Ekko. I lost motivation part of the way through and then Star Wars Rebels brainrot got to me and then I didn’t know what else to write, so this will have to to for now. I hope it’s alright.

I hope you enjoy too!! :DDD

“Look at you!”

Vi, Caitlyn, Ekko x Buff!Reafer [separate - could be perceived as either romantic or platonic]

Summary ; In which training hard gets their attention.

Requested? ; Yes

Warnings ; None

Word Count ; 831

——————————————————————

Vi is pretty buff in her own right as well as you.

I mean c'mon, we've seen her in a tanktop. We've seen her back muscles and arm muscles.

All that time running around the Undercity and keeping herself busy while she was still locked up in prison really paid off.

And while you didn't exactly have the time to train in a jail cell, you certainly did when helping Ekko with the Firelights. You helped him build, and train others since the start of it all.

You both knew each other before everything that happened with Vander and Powder - Jinx - Powder? Whatever she went by nowadays - and Milo and Claggor. You weren't as buff back then like you were now. So when Vi met you again years later after Ekko let her see the Firelight hideout properly, she was pleasantly surprised.

"Look at you!", she had said in quiet astonishment.

"Look at me.", you said back with a smile. She draws you in for a hug. You both squeeze each other tightly. It's been... a long time.

"You filled out well", Vi comments softly in your ear.

"I wanted to be strong like you were", you tell her. "Plus the muscles look amazing on me. Lotta hard work to look like this."

"Well your hard work really paid off - seriously, look at you!" She pulls back, looking at you up and down, eyes roving over the muscles you had toned for months now in endearment. "You're not wrong, they look great on you."

Caitlyn

Caitlyn has had training herself as an enforcer. She's toned herself, but lean all the same.

The muscles are still visibly there, though, of course.

Now you, on the other hand? Buff. Bigger muscles, more sculpted but not to the point of what looks to be like dehydration. You've been working for them for months.

Years, even, at this point.

You weren't an enforcer by any means, but you were consistent in visiting the gym that Caitlyn usually trains at. That's how the two of you met, afterall.

Training in the gym.

One of the days you were both there, she was spotting you on one of the newer equipment that the gym had recently gotten. Courtesy of Caitlyn using her nobility status for personal gain.

And using friend privileges with Jayce who worked with the Piltoven council.

She was watching you as you worked, and her eyes caught onto the muscle she's seen you make yourself over the years.

Thinking back on it, she never really paid too much attention to the changes. It was gradual. She was already used to how buff you looked now, and however you looked before - which was probably still buff, but not as nearly as much as now.

She hummed with a proud look, patting your shoulder when you got off the equipment. "Sometimes I forget how hard you really work. Let’s go take a break and get some water. And maybe some lunch. I'll pay."

You can read through the lines when she gives your shoulder a squeeze. And you caught the way her eyes glanced over you. She was really proud of you, wasn't she?

"Lunch sounds perfect."

Ekko

You’ve been training with Ekko and the rest of the firelights for years at this point.

Well, it’s been seven years, but still years nonetheless.

Your progress was gradual, subtle in the ways that Ekko was already used to you being buff, much like you with him.

He was buff as well, much like you were. But as said before, you both trained together with the firelights. It was normal to see him the way he was, the way he was determined to stay strong - in more ways than one - and disrupt Silco’s horrible Shimmer business and regime in Zaun.

But much like with Caitlyn, sometimes he notices your gains in strength.

How your training has paid off.

You’d be just moving boxes of supplies for everyone in the hideout with him, ranging from medical supplies and medicines, foods and stuff for drinks, and parts for whatever Ekko and a couple of the other engineers create. Even extra toys and supplies for all the other kids you guys kept safe in the Hideout.

And after setting a box onto a pile in the supply room, Ekko glances in your direction, and just stares for a bit, resting his elbow against a metal shelf in the room. A smile ends up pulling at the corners of his mouth, even more so when you notice him looking at you.

“Everything good over there?”, you ask, raising a brow. You turn away and pick up another, smaller box, and stretch up to put the container someplace higher.

“Yeah.”, he chuckles lightly, turning back to the shelf. He pushed a couple of boxes to the side, making room for another. “Everything’s good.”

He doesn’t say it verbally, but the glint in his eyes do.

You look good, and you work hard.

He was proud.

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caspercryptid · 2 months

Note

OMG! The cooking prompt was so cute! I loved the way they were both so insistently tugging on the pot but are also like "You work so hard!" "No, you." ROFL It was great.

Also, sorry about overwhelming you with prompts! I got excited!

Drunk Gale and drunk Wyll at the tiefling party being silly (maybe a little sad at some points), maybe sharing a kiss, and then passing out next to each other (maybe in their arms?)

This one next?

Don't worry about overwhelming me!! I don't mind getting multiple prompts at a time, I just prefer to get them in separate asks so I can put the request fill in the reply individually, so feel free to ping me another couple, I'll reply to whichever ones i've got the brain for. —

“I have decided,” Gale says, tone serious, “that I hate you.” Wyll looks up. Gale is beautiful in the firelight, shadows dancing across his features, his robes swaying in the faint shifting air of people passing by and the waves of warmth from the fire, sound cushioning them both— distant laughter, revelry, the general hum of joy and people. The party was, however, starting to wind down, so it wasn’t quite so loud that Wyll could miss what Gale just said.

“I beg your pardon?” he says, anyway, because surely. Surely Gale of waterdeep did not just say that.

“I am here to tell you that I hate you,” Gale says, “You are distracting. A distraction. I missed a fire bolt today, and it’s on account of you.”

Wyll. squints. A little. His mind is moving a mite slow- he’s had a few drinks, passed enthusiastically into his hand by his friends and the tieflings, but holding this conversation up against similar conversations with gale to see if it makes sense is coming up with nothing. There doesn’t seem to be a context he could place this in. “Did I.... do something wrong?” He asks.

“Yes,” Gale says, and then fails to elaborate, which is frankly very unlike him. Wyll waits. Gale continues to fail to elaborate.

“—come and sit down,” Wyll decides.

“No,” Gale says, petulant, “I wouldn’t want to— keep you from your. Evening’s diversions. Although frankly it’s unprofessional.” “Unprofessional,” Wyll echoes.

“Yes, unprofessional. Lots of people make careers out of adventuring, and even if we were thrust into it, we could— follow professional standards. Of conduct.” “We could,” Wyll agrees, slowly, trying to see a way out of this conversation, but that seems to be the wrong answer, because Gale puffs up like a pigeon. Actually, it’s rather cute, the way he sticks his chest forward. Wyll always thought it was funny when people did that in fights. Trying to make themselves look bigger, as though size was ever an indicator of how well they were going to hold up in a fight. Wyll had fought some halflings, it really really wasn’t.

“You,” Gale says, and then fails to elaborate.

“Me,” Wyll agrees.

Gale open and closes his mouth, and then he says— “Lae’zel.” “—Yes?” Wyll tries.

“You’re— fornicating. With her.”

“...fornicating,” Wyll echoes, and then, hastily, “I know what it means, I just— um. No.” That seems to throw Gale off.

“...No?” He repeats.

“No,” Wyll repeats. “Uh, or, I did. A little while ago. We’re done. I’m not expecting a repeat performance, so if it bothers you—” He trails off, trying to understand what Gale’s expression is doing.

“Oh,” Gale manages. “Oh, I suppose that’s—-fine, then. She’s— not suited for you, anyway.” “Seems she agreed,” Wyll says, baffled.

“You ought to have someone more suited to your temperament,” Gale continues, “kinder, perhaps. Or. More understanding. Of you. More... like. Me.” Oh.

Wyll laughs, he can’t help it, but before Gale can get up in arms again he extends up his arms.

“Come here,” He says, encouraging, and then lets out a little Oof as Gale just sort of crumbles, landing on top of him and knocking him from his sitting position onto the ground. “Oops,” Gale mumbles. “Perhaps none of that is what I meant to say, perhaps i meant to say— something else—” Before Gale can invent a better lie, Wyll kisses him.

“—That’s better,” Gale says, when he comes up for air, and Wyll grins at him.

“It is,” He agrees, and decides he’s going to learn from experience not to run his mouth too much, and kisses Gale again.

#bladeweave #wyll ravengard #bg3 Wyll #bg3 Gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x wyll #wyll x gale #casper's haunted fic tag #bg3

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vashbug · 1 year

Text

Just As Human

Hello, this is my first post on this Trigun side-blog. This a fanfic that is Vash x GN Reader, with the Vash specifically from Stampede, from before the last episodes :’) I hope you enjoy.

Read on AO3: Here

You sit at a campfire in the middle of nowhere, cooking worms and whatever rations you could into a meager stew. You offered to cook, given you’re the best out of the group at these sorts of things, and you really don’t mind having something to concentrate on. The others stand near the car, chatting about what to do next, and you can barely hear them over the crackle of the fire. You’re so concentrated on the task at hand that you don’t notice when a familiar figure sits down near you. He is quiet as he watches your face in the firelight, the flames reflecting off his yellow-tinted glasses.

He coughs quietly, startling you and making you drop your ladle into the pot with a clink.

“Vash!” You clutch your chest, trying to slow your heartbeat. “Don’t scare me like that, oh my god.”

He chuckles and gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just came over to see how you’re doing.”

Every time he is around you, you can’t seem to calm your nerves. “I’m doing alright, dinner is almost ready. I know it’s not much but…” You trail off as you reach your hand towards the pot to retrieve your ladle. For some reason, your hands are trembling slightly, and you miss the ladle and touch the tips of your fingers to the hot rim of the pot. You let out a yelp and pull your hand towards you.

“Are you okay?” Vash is at your side the moment you make a sound, kneeling in the sand next to you and taking your hand in his. “Let me take a look.” He inspects the tips of your fingers closely before taking out a flask of water and spilling it over your hand.

The concern in his voice makes your face hot. It feels crazy to you that he, an immortal being, cares so much about humans, or you. He fusses over your burned fingertips and you can’t seem to look directly at him.

“Does it hurt a lot?” He asks, and then without waiting for an answer, he begins blowing air onto your burns. This gesture makes your heart practically leap out of your throat as you fall backwards into the sand with a yelp. He looks startled at your reaction, and then he chuckles bashfully, running his mechanical hand through his hair and looking down. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you, I thought it would help. Are you okay? You seem a little on edge.”

You take a moment to gather your senses before returning to a kneeling position next to him by the fire. “I’m fine! The burn isn’t even that bad, it doesn’t really hurt.”

He’s having a hard time understanding your behavior, and you feel bad that you’re making him worry. You realize this and muster up the courage to look him in the eyes as you hold up your burnt hand and say, “See? Everything is in working order.” You smile as you wiggle your fingers.

He breathes a small sigh of relief and gives you a small, apologetic smile. “Okay, if you say so. Let me know if it starts to hurt more. Are you okay to keep cooking?”

You turn back to your pot, thankful for an excuse to look away. “Yes, I’ve got it.” Your heart is still beating hard in your chest.

Vash sits back a little and continues to watch you stir and add ingredients. You can feel his eyes follow you and pretend that you don’t notice. It’s quiet for a while before either of you say anything.

“You know,” he begins, “I’ve met a lot of humans, and every single one of them knows something different. I’m always learning, I guess.” He chuckles softly. “No matter how long I’m around, I doubt I’ll ever meet two people that are exactly the same.”

You laugh softly. “I doubt I have anything new or interesting to offer. I can’t fight, I’m not particularly strong, and all I can do is follow everyone else around, really…” Your words trail off as you feel a hand gently tug on your shirt from behind.

“That’t not true.” Suddenly his tone is serious, and you find yourself turning to face him. “That’s not true,” He repeats. When you look behind you, he is leaning forwards, knees on the ground, arm still outstretched and holding onto the back of your shirt. His face is serious, almost determined. He sits upright with his hands on his thighs. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that. You might not be any good in a fight,” You wince internally at this remark, “But you’re strong in other ways. You…” He pauses, averting his eyes. “I wish you knew that. And I wish you knew what you mean to me.” His face is red now, and you’ve never seen him look this shy before.

You feel guilt rise in your chest in place of your embarrassment, and you turn fully to face him, your back to the fire. “I’m sorry, Vash. It’s just that everyone else here is so much stronger, and they can use weapons. I’m really just a regular human.”

“But you’re not!” He replies immediately, his voice raised slightly higher than before. The others look over, and Vash looks slightly embarrassed as he continues in a softer tone. “You’re not just a regular human. I mean, no human is just ‘regular’, but you, you’re special.” He flushes red. He begins again, his hands moving as he talks. “You’re special to me. It’s been a long time since anyone told me that I deserve a normal life, maybe even a happy one.” He begins to ramble. “And you’re always taking care of everyone, and making sure they eat, and you’re honest, but in a nice way, and you make me feel-“ He catches himself. “You make us feel like we’re… Somewhere like home.” He is starting at you with that determined look on his face again.

You’re sure you’re bright red by now, and you do your best to keep your face composed. Vash is looking at you expectantly, and you know you have to say something, but your heart is in your throat. Your thoughts race as you consider what to do next. You reason with yourself, no, you can’t do this, don’t fall for him, he’s practically immortal, he’s on another level entirely. Besides, there’s no way he could love you… But god, you want to reach out to him so badly your hands itch. You imaging grabbing his face in your hands…

Instead, you swallow your heart and look down at your lap.

“You’re right, I know I’m too hard on myself. But I want to become stronger so I can stay with all of you.” You look at the burns on your fingers and sigh. “But thank you, I know you really mean it.” You flash him the most convincing smile you can manage.

This seems to satisfy him enough to drop it, but his gaze is still locked on your face. You can’t really tell what his expression means. Hurt? Disappointment? It hurts so much to have him look so directly at you that you have to look away. You turn back to the fire, back to your purpose here, and finish your task for the evening.

***

Later that night the fire has become dim, and everyone has settled into their tents or sleeping bags. Vash is sleeping in the back of the trailer, hands placed lazily behind his head. Or at least you think he’s sleeping. You realize you left your warmer coat in the car, and the night is chilly without the fire. You are on your way past the trailer when a quiet voice nearly sends you stumbling into the sand.

“Hey,” You hear Vash shift around slightly in the back of the trailer, but he’s still looking up at the sky. He hears you trip and gasp, and lets out a soft chuckle. “Sorry again,” he whispers, “But you should come up here, I want to show you something.”

You make your way clumsily up the side of the trailer, careful not to make too much noise. Vash doesn’t look up as you sit cross-legged and awkward next to him. Instead, he points up at the sky.

You look upwards and it takes everything in your power not to gasp. Millions—maybe billions—of worms, floating and flying around in a swarm far above your camp illuminate the sky with a beautiful, soft green light. You’ve never seen anything like it, usually staying close to the fire and low to the ground when you camp at night. You can’t hide the look of awe on your face and you take in the sight. For a moment, you forget about Vash laying next to you.

You don’t realize he’s not looking at the sky anymore. He’s studying your face instead, his gaze soft and admiring. He likes that you are able to see that there are beautiful things in this world, things that many others don’t take the time to notice. He likes that even though you have been through so much you are still so kind.

“Come on, lay down next to me. Your neck will hurt otherwise.” His voice sounds a little eager, but he’s hiding it well. You don’t hesitate this time, leaning back and settling down next to him about a foot away. You are careful to put some distance between the two of you. He’s quiet for a while, looking up at the sky, lost in thought.

When he finally speaks, you can hardly hear him. “I meant what I said, you know.” You turn to look at him, but he’s still looking at the sky. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He turns his head to face you, and suddenly the foot of space between you doesn’t feel like enough. Your heart beats so loud you swear he can hear it too. “I understand, kind of, how you feel.” He gives a soft laugh. “Well, maybe not exactly. But I know I’m too hard on myself and that I blame myself for things that weren’t my fault. At least, now I know.” His gaze is so warm, it’s almost too much for you. “Thanks to you.”

“Vash…” You say his name so quietly it’s barely a whisper. There is no denying it now, that look he’s giving you. Like he cares about you, like he admires you. You turn your face back up towards the sky and try to drown the hope you feel rising in your chest. You don’t say anything for a long time, instead focusing on the sky and your thundering heart. After a while, you realize how cold you are, and you feel yourself begin to shiver.

Vash notices that you’re shaking immediately. “Hey, are you cold?” Before waiting for an answer, he sits up and strips off his red jacket, placing it over you in a single fluid motion. You nod and smile as a thank you, but your teeth are still chattering. You sit up awkwardly, pulling his coat around your shoulders.

“That’s still not enough, huh.” Vash leans back against a crate and motions for you to come closer. He has his arms open, and the look on his face is inviting you to sit against him. “I really don’t want to be responsible for you freezing tonight,” he chuckles.

You hesitate a moment before the cold wins against your better judgement and you settle with your back against his chest, his coat still wrapped around you. Suddenly, you feel really small. His arms are strong as they wrap around you, and you can feel his mouth close to your ear. You can feel his heart beating behind your back and wonder if all plant hearts beat this fast.

You sit with him, trying to concentrate on the sky. His thumb absently rubs against your arm, and every movement makes your heart palpitate. Despite your best efforts, you notice every breath he takes and the slightest shift in weight against your back.

“I want you to stay with me,” He whispers, breaking the silence. His voice is so close to your ear it makes your hair stand on end. “It might be dangerous, and you can say no, but I’d like for you to stay with me.” He laughs, and this time it sounds a little forced. “I know it’s selfish, that I’m being selfish and I should tell you to stay away. But…” He pauses and takes a breath. “I think you’re good for us. I think… You’re good for me.” He exhales, as if he is relieved that he finally said it. “You make me feel almost human.”

You debate whether or not you want to look up at him over your shoulder. You are burning hot and your heart feels like it might escape from your chest. You so badly want to see what kind of face he’s making that curiosity finally wins out and you look up at him.

He’s making an expression you haven’t quite seen before. It’s the same kind of look he gives people when he feels like he’s let them down, almost apologetic, but softer. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something. “What… What are you saying, Vash?” Your voice sounds high-pitched and strained.

“I’m saying,” He begins, reaching down and sliding his hand over the back of yours, locking your fingers in his, “That I want you to stay. With me. We can travel together, we can keep running. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I promise that I’ll protect you. I’ll take really good care of you and make sure that you’re always safe.” He squeezes your hand gently, as if to reaffirm that he means it. The expression on his face, his closeness, the softness of his voice—all of it is making your head swim. You realize, for the first time, just how much you love him.

This realization opens a flood gate within you, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore. You twist slightly and bring your free hand up to his face, cupping his cheek in your palm. He looks surprised, but you don’t give him time to say anything else before you press your lips to his. He stiffens, immediately letting go of your other hand. For a moment he doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, but quickly he relaxes, reaching his hand up and gently lacing it through your hair. He melts into your kiss, and it is a long moment before you pull back to look at him. He looks at you like he doesn’t understand know what just happened, and you realize what you’ve just done.

“Oh my god…” You bring a hand to your mouth in disbelief. “I can’t believe I just did that. I’m so sorry, I just- you’re just so-“ You aren’t sure what to say. “That’s so funny, I think I hear someone calling me.” You make a weak excuse as begin to untangle yourself from his lap and his coat. You’re embarrassed, and he is sitting there, stunned and breathless.

You get halfway to your feet before you realize he’s grabbed your hand, cold crystal pressing against your palm.

“Wait, look at me.” He doesn’t pull on you, and he is holding your hand so gently it feels like he’s worried he’ll break you. You turn to look at him and his eyes are clear, bright, and serious. You’re entirely sure you look like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide with panic. “I know it seems crazy, and I know I don’t deserve it, but would you please give me a chance? I want you to be with me.” His voice sounds slightly unsteady. You’re taken aback by his forwardness—his willingness to say what you wouldn’t dare to.

“Give you a chance?” You scoff in disbelief, and he immediately looks hurt. “I’m just a human, a human that can’t do more than stand on the sidelines and offer a few words of encouragement. And you,” you gesture vaguely at him, “You are a plant, you’re powerful, you’re unique, you’re clever, and you’re so… so…” You trail off as you search his face, trying to decide what to say next. He looks wounded at your words. His head falls, and his hair covers his face.

“I get it, I know. You don’t want to get caught up in the Humanoid Typhoon. I can’t blame you for not wanting to be anywhere near me.” He releases you hand and when he looks back up at you, he is wearing that same strained, apologetic smile he always does. “It’s okay, you don’t have to stay with me. You can travel with me for as long as you want, and move on when you need to.”

You stand in front of him under the glow of the worms and look carefully at him. You’re used to looking at his back in front of you, whether he is shielding you or leaving you, that to see him in front of you now makes him seem so much *smaller*, and so much more *human*. You feel a pang in your chest and you realize something.

You realize that he’s just as human as you, whether he lives forever, or has powers you can’t understand. He loves people, and he loses them, and he makes mistakes, and he carries that guilt with him everywhere he goes. Just like you. Just like any other human. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest. He’s just as human as me.

“I was going to say that… You’re so beautiful,” you manage to whisper, your vocal cords tight in your throat. His head snaps up and he looks at you, bewildered. “You’re beautiful a-and you’re clever, and you’re also so stupid,” you say with a laugh. “I was worried that maybe you were too plant, and that I was too human, and how could someone like you care about me, and there are so many things to consider…” you’re rambling, looking at your hands as you talk. “But I realized that even though you were born a plant, you’re just as human as me-“

He doesn’t wait for you to finish. He’s on his feet so quickly you hardly see him move. You barely have a moment to register that he’s grabbed your face before your lips connect. He is firm but gentle as he pulls you closer to him, until your chest is pressed against his. His lips are soft against yours, and your skin is so hot you can barely stand it. You reach your hands up and wrap them around his neck, bracing yourself against him like you might collapse without his support. The kiss lasts until you can’t breathe anymore and you have to pull away. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed, and lets you have a moment to breathe.

“I’m sorry,�� he laughs lightly. “I couldn’t take it anymore.” He brings his real hand up to your face, the mechanical one still wrapped around your waist. “I don’t care that you’re human, and I don’t care about how long I’ll live, and how long you’ll…” he lets the sentence die in his throat. “I know my life will never be normal, and we have so many things to talk about, but I don’t want to lose you.” It is one of those moments where he looks so much weaker and younger than he actually is, and you feel like you’ll be the one to break him.

You let out a breathy, shaky sigh. “Well, we won’t know unless we try. I mean,” you chuckle softly. “I was going to be traveling with you anyways. It’s not like I have anywhere to be.” You wrap your arms around him tighter, pressing your face into the crook of his neck above his collar, where you kiss him lightly. You feel him startle slightly. “I already knew that my life would be different since I met you, and I was aware of the danger.”

He laughs quietly, almost ruefully. “If you get hurt while you’re with me, I’ll never forgive myself.” His hand is on the back of your head now, holding you against him. You can feel that he’s holding you as tightly as he’ll allow himself.

“Then you’ll just have to teach me how to defend myself.” You smirk into his neck. “I’ll have the privilege of learning marksmanship from the one and only Vash the Stampede.”

“Ha, ha.” He lets out a mocking laugh. For a while you both stand there, pressed into each other. You’re not sure how long you stay like that before he whispers, “Maybe we should get some sleep and talk more about this tomorrow.” His voice sounds meek, but hopeful.

You pull away so you can look at his face, and you realize for the first time how red he is. It’s so cute you almost can’t stand it.

“Okay,” you say. You can’t help yourself, and you lean in for another kiss. This time it is much softer, and less passionate, but for some reason it makes your heart race even faster. You decide to stay in the back of the trailer with Vash for the night, regardless of what the others will think in the morning. The two of you settle down under the glow of the worms, your back pressed into his chest, his face in your hair. You’re not sure if you’ve ever slept this well in the desert.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #vash x you #vash x reader #fluff #trigun fic #trigun fanfiction #vash fanfic

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warmblanketwhump · 2 years

Note

Hi! I love your writing, it's the perfect form of soft whump! Could you maybe write about a touch starved Whumpee who's hypothermic and Caretaker has to cuddle with them to warm them up??

okay, so first have to apologize profusely - i started a fill for this MONTHS ago and it was just not working for me so i rewrote it like six times 😂 but thank you so much for your prompt and patience, and I hope you enjoy!

A finishes the perimeter check of the camp just as night falls, shuddering as another gust of wind blows right through them. They’ve been waiting all day for the minute they could get warm in their tent, and in just a few minutes, they’ll be able to curl up in a blanket with a nice cup of tea and a book.

They’re almost back to their tent when a small, shadowy figure at the edge of camp catches the corner of their eye. Who’d be outside on a night like this?

As they get closer, their confusion only deepens. It’s B.

B’s huddled alone next to a pitifully small fire, a thin grey blanket wrapped around their shoulders as their only protection from the winter cold. As A draws closer, they see that B’s shivering hard, the blanket barely offering any warmth.

B had hardly been more than skin and bone when they found their crumpled form in a snowbank a week ago, so A doesn’t know why they’re out in the bitter wind instead of hunkered down in their assigned tent. And even if they did prefer the great outdoors, they should have on their standard issue coat, hat, and insulated pants to protect them from the winter chill.

“B? What are you doing out here?”

B shrugs. “Th-thought a f-fire would b-be nice.”

A frowns—it’s a non-answer at best. Everyone has a wood burning stove in their tent, so it doesn’t explain why B’s out here. “B, where’s the winter gear we gave you? Why aren’t you with your assigned team?”

B’a teeth are chattering so hard they can barely speak. “I’m ok-kay here. Th-this is enough.” In the firelight they look like a ghost - all hollow cheeks, shadowed bruises, and a fresh black eye. Slowly, they extend a shaking hand over the small flame, trying to soak up some heat, before giving up and tucking their hand back into the blanket.

A can feel their heart crack in two at the sight. “B, you’re freezing. There’s no way you don’t have hypothermia.”

“They told me it’s enough.”

“….what? Who?”

“No one.” There’s fear in their voice now. A frowns - after B had recovered enough in the medical tent, they’d been reassigned to stay with a specific squad for the remainder of the posting.

“B, this is an order. Who said that?”

B takes a shaky breath, and A can see the twin tears that trickle down their cheeks. “The….the others.”

“Are they why you’re out here?” A can hardly keep the shock from their tone. B’s assigned squad was a bit rowdy and rough around the edges, but this kind of cruelty was beyond anything A had ever imagined.

“They said it’s more than enough for a filthy traitor like me.” B’s voice is hollow and broken, and A swears they can see them slump even farther down. “They’re right, though.”

Hot anger floods in A’s chest, but they stuff it down and trade their rage for tenderness - if not for their own sake, then for B.

“These people, your team…they took what we gave you?” B nods, curling deeper into their pitiful blanket.

“Well we can’t leave you huddled by this pile of matchsticks all night. Come with me.” A stretches out their gloved hand toward B.

B turns to them, something in their eyes bearing the vaguest resemblance to hope. But it’s tenuous and trembling, and their voice is barely above a whisper when they ask “Why?”

A ignores the way their own stomach drops at the question, forcing a gentle smile instead. “Why? Because no one should freeze to death out here alone, that’s why. Come on.”

They scoop B off the ground, wrapping an arm around their waist and half-carrying them back to their tent, wincing as they feel B’s every bone through the blanket, how terribly light they are, and how badly they’re shaking.

In a moment, they’re back to their warm canvas tent, where their best friend C is filling out their daily logs by the blazing wood stove.

“C, help.” A’s breathing hard. “I need you to get them bundled and get them a hot water bottle from the med tent. They’re half frozen.” C drops their pen and stands almost to attention as A deposits B on the cot, pulling two of their own thick quilts over B’s small, shaking body.

“A, what happened?”

“Found them outside.” A lowers their voice and leans closer to C. “The other team didn’t take too kindly to them.”

C stares at the little lump on the bed, nodding as they swallow hard. “Are they…are they okay?”

“I think they’re okay. They’re still awake and talking. But they need to get warmed up.”

C nods, moving to the stove to heat up some water and pull on their winter clothes to dart to the med tent. “Do you know….why?”

A shakes their head, still taking it all in. They’d found B a few weeks ago when moving camp, beaten and bruised in a snowdrift. They wore the enemy colors and uniform, but the team still took them in - if anything, they could be a useful source of info.

Once B was on the mend, they confessed they’d joined the enemy group to escape their life of poverty - only to find out they’d been lied to about the other team’s motives and recruited under false pretenses. By then, it was clear that B was too weak to meet the brutal daily demands in the harsh elements. But by then, they’d already learned too much to be sent back—so they were left to die in the cold snow, where they were discovered by A’s team.

B had promptly disavowed their old team and gave up critical information to help their new team, but many were still wary - if they flipped this easily, how easy would it be for them to flip back?

But A knew that wasn’t likely. They saw the way B flinched every time voices got too loud in a room, the way they snuck pieces of their rations to the team dog, the way they curled in on themselves every time they walked in a room, or how they hung back in the medical tent helping to wrap bandages and tend the wounded instead of jostling their way into strategy sessions or striking up conversations around the bonfires. They didn’t want intel. They just wanted to belong.

“Be right back.” A snaps out of their trance and turns for the door.

“A, it’s a blizzard out there—where are you-“ C starts.

“I’ll only be a few minutes. I just need to fix this.” A’s so full of anger that they don’t even feel the cold as they stalk across the camp, only pausing to give the obligatory salute to the guard before entering the camp leader’s tent.

“A! I thought you’d be hunkered down with everyone else. What brings you here this late?” The leader’s leaned back in their chair, glasses low on their nose.

A clears their throat, hoping to strike the balance between convincing and respectful. “Requesting that B be transferred to my care.”

The leader frowns, paging through the piles of paper on their desk. “A, you’ve got enough on your plate. Another team member is the last thing you need.”

Deep breath, keep it cool. “They have…issues with their current assignment. Issues that I believe put them in danger, and ones that I’d like to personally ensure don’t continue.”

“I don’t see how that’s unusual. Not three weeks ago they were the enemy, however uncommitted. It will take time for people to warm up to them.” The captain flips their file over, frowning as they read, half-distracted from A’s request.

“With all due respect, B can’t afford to wait,” A snaps. “I just found them out in the wind, alone, next to a pathetic fire. Their squad took all their winter clothing and kicked them out, which goes against everything we stand for.” A swallows hard, hoping that they’ve stuffed the white hot rage far enough within. “Sorry. That was out of line. But I just don’t trust anyone else with them.”

The leader eyes them warily, but shakes their head and pushes forward a piece of paper. “If you think you can handle it, sign here. But know that your duties won’t be lessened. They’re your responsibility.”

“Yes, Captain. I understand.” A scribbles their signature in a flash—they’re too red-hot with anger to broach the idea of discipline for the other squad, but that can wait. Their main priority is B, and keeping them safe, and now they can.

They turn on their heel and practically run back to the tent, stomach flipping with some unnamed emotion. When they dart back into the warmth of the tent, they see C shaking a glass thermometer, palm on B’s forehead. In the firelight, the glass sends little ice-crystal prisms across the canvas roof, which billow and roll against the stiff wind outdoors like the waves of the ocean. Below, a shivering B is covered in a pile of quilts and blankets, a woolen hat pulled over their head.

C gazes at the thermometer for a moment, then shakes their head and grabs one of three cups of tea from the stove and hands it to A. A accepts it gratefully, curling their frozen fingers around the warm mug.

“Their temp is still way too low.” C turns A toward them and lowers their voice. “They’ve hardly got any insulation as it is, and who knows how long they’d been out there. I got as many hot water bottles and blankets the doc could spare, but it’s just so cold out and they’re so small…”

“Then we improvise.” A kneels down next to their cot - B’s cot, now - and places a hand on their forehead. “B? How you feeling, bud?”

A can’t quite hear their response, but it’s somewhere between a shaky whimper and the word “cold”.

“Yeah, I know, it’s pretty miserable out there, huh?” B nods, and A sees the tiniest glitter of a tear slip down the side of their nose. They sneak a hand out from under the blankets and reach toward A, and A takes their icy fingers in their hand.

“That’s another thing. They keep reaching for something, but I don’t know what.” As C talks, B keeps weakly pulling on A’s arm.

“We’re going to warm you up, okay? Is it okay if we get under the blankets with you?” B nods, eyes scrunched shut.

A shucks off most of their layers and walks around to the far side of the cot. C also sheds their extra layers and pushes their own cot against the one B’s on, with the twin cots forming a full-on blanket nest.

The cots squeak as both of them ease onto the bed, curling up on both sides of B. Blankets are rumpled and pillows are adjusted, and after a bit of jostling, both A and C have snugly sandwiched B in a pocket of hot water bottles, blankets, and body heat.

“There you go. All snug.” A reaches out and shifts a water bottle closer to B’s chest. “Soon you’ll be so warm you’ll be shoving us out. How’s that sound?”

The only reply they get is a big, gulping sob. Somehow, B works their hands out of the layers and frantically clutches A’s shirt in their fist, pulling it toward them.

A’s confusion is reflected in C’s face, and they lean back, trying to catch B’s glance. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Talk to us, B.”

B’s sobs are small whimpers now, and they lean their head down to rest on A’s chest, their body wracked with shivers, their arms reaching, clutching—

Oh.

They want to be held.

Of course. The poor thing’s been starved of affection, even in the place that should’ve been their salvation. Why didn’t A think of this before?

“Oh, B. Come here. It’s alright. We’re not going anywhere.” A wraps their arms around B’s shoulders, and B practically melts in the hug. C’s eyes are questioning, but A just nods, and C scoots even closer.

“Don’t let go,” B whispers. “Please don’t let go.”

“We won’t, B,” A whispers back, arms circling tighter. “I won’t.”

The wind howls and buries the camp in feet of sparkly white snow—and there, in the middle of it all, someone feels safe for the first time in their life.

#hypothermia #cold whump #hurt comfort #cuddling #touch starved #i threw the book at this one lol #as in #this has most of my favorite tropes

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oreo-oro-orero · 5 months

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A Writing thing for #firelight jinx au

Dark Impulses

"I thought about it.... A lot you know."

Jinx raised an eyebrow while still standing defiantly across from Ekko, her eyes still piercingly pink and staring daggers into him.

"About what?", Jinx said in a mocking tone, "About how much of a fucking dumbass yo-".

"About hurting them....about killing them.", Ekko said in a tone that could only be described as oppressive.

Jinx was taken aback, she didn't even get to finish her insult. She still tried to keep that aggressive tone with him. She was still mad at him and he wasn't going to get out of it just because he surprised her a little bit.

"Who?", she said again in a mocking tone.

"All of them, the Chembarons, Gang members, The Enforcers....even Silco."

Jinx subtly cringed at the mention of her late father but it's not like this was shocking news to her. Who didn't want to kill somebody in this city and with someone as acclimated to death as her, it's not like Ekko was saying something shocking....but still a small pit in her stomach started to form....hearing Ekko say kill....it just felt....wrong in a way.

"So what.", Jinx said still trying to keep up her anger "everybody wants to kill everybody else down here and your not special just because you wanted to kill my dad because newsflash "Mr. Perfect" he wasn't exactly well liked an-".

"I thought about how I would do it too.", Ekko said in that same oppressive tone.

Jinx was interrupted again but this time instead of annoyance, a pit in her stomach slowly started to expand.

"How they would look when they died, to see the fear in their eyes, to see that hopelessness finally set in as they realize that there is no where left to hide, no more shimmer or goons to hide behind. To see them broken and begging in front of me....those thoughts flashed through my mind every hour of every day." Ekko stated, it's like he was talking to himself now.

Jinx eyed him with a slightly concerned expression, her anger started to fade as something more thicker kicked in and that pit in her stomach continued to grow.

"I even would dream about it too." Ekko chuckled dryly causing Jinx to grip at the fabric of her pants with her fingers.

"In the dreams it felt so much more real, so much more feasible. I could hear their bones break every time I would slam my club against them, their skin splitting open with every slam of my fist, their skulls being split with every slam of their heads on the metal floors. It felt so real and it never seemed to end, all my rage, my aggression, my anger I could let it all loose and against them with practically no end....my own personalized version of heaven.", Ekko said, the oppressiveness in his voice replaced again with something more sinister.

Jinx's eyes once fiery with pink started to fade into a dull color and even that dull pink started to fade as well. She gripped her right wrist with her left hand and pulled both up to her chest. The pit in her stomach seemingly reached a size that not even she could comprehend. She knew this feeling despite trying to get rid of it, she stopped feeling it after Silco's death but yet here it is front and center, just like Powder seemingly being buried but popping up every so often to remind her that things really truly never stayed dead.....Fear. This time though it was accompanied by something or someone else, that little girl she tried desperately to bury. Thoughts bounded across her mind like bullets.

"What are you doing Ekko?"

"This isn't you, stop talking like this"

"Please you need to stop this isn't right"

"Please stop Ekko your...your...your scaring me"

She tried to attribute these emotions to just Powder but the hard fact is that Jinx was Powder and if Powder is scared...then so is Jinx.

She knew Ekko had a capacity for Violence, hell that was one of the things that made him attractive in her mind, his ability and willingness to get his hands dirty but this was something else. This wasn't like him, Ekko shouldn't kill, he wouldn't kill, he couldn't kill...right....no Ekko shouldn't...he just...he just shouldn't!

"For years I've kept it all at bay though, always wanting to cross that line but always just on the edge I would pull myself back..but I don't know how much longer I can keep teetering like this Jinx....i just don't.", Ekko said now holding his head in his hands as though ashamed of what he's said.

Jinx felt all that anger and rage she had previously die in her throat, she didn't know what to say. She wanted to beg, start crying, do anything because this wasn't Ekko, this wasn't her Ekko...it just wasn't. Jinx suddenly found a new emotion welling inside of her, determination. She steeled herself and marched towards Ekko and in one swift motion wrapped her arms and legs around him and nuzzles into his neck.

"Fucking idiot." She whispered into his warm skin. "Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?", Jinx questioned.

Ekko wrapped his arms around her and held onto her like she was the only thing in the world keeping him from falling.

"You've already been through so much, I didn't want to bother you wi-", Ekko was interrupted before he could finish.

"That's such a shitty excuse.", Jinx stated firmly deeping her hold on him.

"that's not how it works dummy, I'm not going to let you lose your sanity just so you can help me hold onto mine, we tell each other everything the good and the bad and if we both happen to go insane then we'll go insane together and that's the end of it.", Jinx said firmly.

"I'm sorry for scaring you.", Ekko said still clutching onto the girl.

"I wasn't scared.", Jinx said jokingly "But if I was it's fine, like I said before, if we go insane we go insane together and if we're scared well.... we'll be scaredy cats together.", She said clutching onto the boy even tighter.

They both lay still there taking each other warmth as though time stopped for just them and that's just how it should be. Just two of them embracing each other.

Wether its fear

Sadness

Happiness

Anger

Regret

They'll embrace all of it... together.

You can blame @starry-nights12 for giving me this idea at 5 in the morning😭

#timebomb #ekkojinx #firelight jinx au

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alwaysbethewest · 1 year

Text

The Last of Us fic: What I Need's Been Buried

Okay, so I'm posting it. I guess I've been feeling some new fandom jitters with this fic. I don't know the game (and don't want any spoilers, please!!) but I loved the first episode of the show and frankly felt a little overwhelmed after watching it. I couldn't imagine writing fic for it because the show itself was so rich and intense I just had to sit with it and absorb it for a couple days.

And then, I thought, but hmm, what's the deal with Joel and Tess? I wonder how they met? And I felt compelled to write this—just one vision of how it could have gone.

Title: What I Need's Been Buried Pairing: Joel Miller/Tess Servopoulos Rating: Mature Word Count: 1.2k Content/warnings: Non-detailed sex, food, alternating POVs, kinda sad vibes as you might expect because of the show, kinda sappy vibes as you might expect because it's me. General spoilers for TLOU episode 1. Unbetaed but many thanks to Fleetwood, Clare, Kirsty, and Iris, who read draft versions of this and gave me their support 😘

He meets her in a FEDRA refugee caravan, one week south of the QZ. Fraternization is discouraged—too dangerous out here, outside the safety of walls and militarized police and diagnostic scanners—and there is an air of wariness throughout the group, with Boston’s salvation so close at hand, a tenuous thread of hope that could be snapped by a single set of infected teeth. But she meets his eyes across the campfire and gives him a quick, wry smile and sits beside him as the guitar gets passed around in turn—this impromptu open mic circle an echo of a humanity that will never be the same—and she raises her eyebrows when he takes it for himself and strums a familiar chord.

It’s the closest thing to pleasure he’s felt in years—since Before. His body relaxes a little at the tone of the strings under his hands and the crackling warmth of the fire, his brother’s faithful presence on one side of him and this new woman on the other, setting a spark of something nervous alight in him. An odd desire to impress her. When the song ends and he passes the instrument down, she holds out her hand to shake, and it is small and uncalloused in his, accessorized with silver rings that flash in the firelight.

“I’m Tess,” she says. “I like your voice.”

He likes hers. It’s deep for a woman, clear and assured. She has to bite it back, quiet in her throat with his hand firm over her mouth, when he’s fucking her in the dark of the perimeter just outside the camp—hoping they don’t get caught and, just for this moment, not giving a shit if they do. It’s a funny thrill—the clutch of this woman he hasn’t even kissed, up against a tree at the end of the world, in the unknown on the cusp of a new one. They could have met in a bar, before, and her legs would have been shaved and he’d be wearing cologne and it wouldn’t have felt as good as it does in this moment—losing himself inside her after he has lost nearly everything else he ever had.

She clutches his shoulder hard when she comes, face twisting silently in rapture, and he watches her, memorizing it: muscles tight and slack, tension ratcheted to its peak and then released, her quiet panting breaths as she returns to herself. At the last moment he thinks to pull out of her, coming messily over his fingers and onto the leaves at their feet, and she looks grateful for it and finally, softly, gives him a kiss.

They are one week still from safety and yet he’s had a glimpse of it here, held tightly in her arms.

She loses track of him once they reach Boston. FEDRA separates their cohort, poking and prodding each of them and splitting them up between different blocks of the QZ and various miserable jobs, and weeks pass before they meet again.

He’s a few seconds too slow behind her, hand landing on top of hers as they both reach for the last ration of dry, unidentifiable meatloaf at the open food pantry. She glances up at this bulk of a man, recognizing him immediately, and she can see that he does too—it makes him hesitate, just for a breath, long enough for her fingers to tighten around the food and clutch it to her side.

There’s fire in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw; he’s angry and not feeling chivalrous. But the food is hers by right and they both know it. Reluctantly, he takes a step back and turns away.

She watches his sullen shoulders. The people behind him in line have taken their cue and turned away, too, grumbling in frustration at the lack of supplies. It makes her feel sick, and greedy, and powerless.

“Joel,” she calls out. He stops, waits a beat, turns around. Looks at her guardedly. She jerks her head, nodding him to come closer, and he does. “We can share it,” she offers quietly.

His face softens in surprise. He wouldn’t have done the same for her, she realizes—but maybe he will next time now, and keeping him as an ally can only be a good thing in this shitty new world they find themselves in.

He twists his mouth, a little sour, like he knows he should say thank you but doesn’t want to speak the words. Like he hates accepting her charity but going hungry is still worse. After a long moment of silence, he nods.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

When Tess was a little girl, her father had adopted a dog named Shelby, a big, loyal creature with a loud bark and not much bite. It didn’t matter that he was a sweetheart—his appearance was intimidating and Tess might as well have been marching down the street with her own personal guard dog, the way that people granted them a wide berth as they passed. There’s something reminiscent of that old feeling now, with Joel glowering just behind her shoulder as they walk through the town.

She can’t say she minds it.

She’d been leading the way back to her block, but Joel clears his throat, bringing them to a stop.

“Ah,” he says, “My apartment is in here, if… you want to come up.”

It might have been a pick-up line, in another life.

Inside, he slides a kitchen knife towards her, inviting her to divide the loaf, and she slices it evenly in half. He takes the knife, halves his share again, and sets one piece aside.

“For my brother,” he explains, catching her curious look. She glances around the apartment, as if another six foot tall man might appear out of thin air. “He’s working an afternoon shift,” Joel tells her. Her stomach sinks a little, at how small his portion looks now.

They eat quietly, side by side, leaning against the old kitchen counter.

“I gotta get my hands on some Tabasco,” he says around a bland bite. She snorts.

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

He gives her a tiny smile at that, finally, just one corner of his mouth tipped up, but it’s enough to transform his face and make her pulse quicken.

He’d been nice to her, in the forest that night, during their camp rendezvous. He’d given her a real smile when she shook his hand, lit up by firelight and looking younger and more alive than he does in this dingy room. He’d pressed close to her, intimate, had watched her face as he’d pushed inside of her, had looked hungry for the quiet, desperate sounds of pleasure she’d made before he muffled her mouth with his hand.

She hopes she can get him nice like that again sometime.

“I owe you one,” he says, seeing her out. He’s all broad shoulders taking up the whole doorway, this big grown man eclipsed by his own broken heart. She reaches up and cups his face in her hand, watching as he takes in a deep breath, like her touch has relaxed his lungs, if only by a little bit. She pushes onto the balls of her feet, leaning up—he tips his face forward instinctively to meet her—and she kisses him, softly, on the lips.

“Don’t worry about it,” she tells him, and she means it.

(comments more than welcome and appreciated but again please no spoilers past Episode 1 of the show 🤫 Thank you!)

(Mini tag list: @fleetwoodmactshirt, @mourningbirds1, @knittingqueen13, @agirllovespancakes, @loversandantiheroes, @littlemisspascal, @pedrostories, @thirstworldproblemss)

#tlou hbo #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos #joel x tess #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #tlou spoilers #fanfiction #my fic

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an-abyss-of-stars · 1 year

Text

She Whispered To Him In The Night - Part 4

(previously known as - It's Visceral And It's Cruel: Possible Moment)

Summary: Dreams really do come true, Aemond finally gets to sleep with Rhaena.

Warnings: SMUT! Like I can't stress that enough! Just pure fucking at this point

Tag list: @minim236 , @bohemiandreams99 , @neocil , @readsalot73 , @nettysnest (feel free to tell me if you want to be on the taglist or not)

P.S: PLEASEEEEE this is the longest sex scene ever!!! I feel like this dissolved into just pure porn, BUT the fluff is still present! And that thin veil of an overarching story is still woven within it...sooooooo...hopefully it's good! For imagery purposes, in my mind, Aemond's giving our girl a sold 8 or 8 1/2 inches, she is FULL. Anywaysss enjoyyyyy!

"Rhaena," he breathed, nearly choking. Pulling his hand through his hair, watching as she saddled herself on top of him. Her legs on either side of him as she sat herself down on his lower abdomen. The warmth of her soft thighs pressing against his sides, the burning heat of her wet cunt against his abs, as her plush bottom nearly grazed against the protruding impression of his hard cock.

She was going to be the death of him.

Aemond gazed up at her in pure awe. Her beautiful face slightly flushed, accentuated with soft elegant features, unmatched by any other. Her striking long silver locs spilled down her slender shoulders and her back. Her full perky breasts and overall stunning tawny skin she'd left exposed to him, all glowing beautifully in the firelight.

Truly a goddess sat above him. Wet and wanting for him.

If he'd known this was a truly viable possibility months ago, he would've confronted her sooner.

It was nearly aggravating, all those moons he laid alone in bed thinking of her and here she was…wanting him just as badly.

Rhaena flipped some of her silver locs over her shoulder, she was truly enchanting, "I thought you wished to bed me, Aemond," her alluring lips playfully pouted.

She lowered herself down onto him, her soaked cunt dragging along the ridges of his abs, pulling a strangled groan from his throat. Rhaena gasped airily, biting her lip, oh she liked that. He'd keep that in mind, the thought of her riding his abs, taking her pleasure from him…he'd love to see it.

Though his mind was dragged back to reality as Rhaena's pebbled nipples ghosted along his toned chest, her lips pulling a playful smirk. The contact shot streaks of fire throughout his body, drawing strangled shaky breaths from his lips.

She'd barely touched him and he felt like he was melting, then she softly caressed his cheek, her other hand dipping into his hair, "did you not wish to fuck me…put a child in me,"

His Princess was taunting him.

Her chambers now smelled of her lavender scent mixed with the heady smell of her spent pleasure. And he found himself happily taking deep breaths, gulping the air around him. His lips parted softly before clenching his jaw as he drew his hands up along her thighs, sliding underneath her nightgown. Grabbing her plush bottom, forcing a gasp from her, "don't tempt me, little Princess,"

He watched her breath hitch at the contact, "oh Aemond, I can feel how much you want me," she gave him one of her dazzling smiles, stunning him for a moment as she leaned her lips against his. Pressing a soft lingering kiss to his lips, dragging her lips down to the shell of his ear, in a low sultry whisper, "and I know you can feel how much I want it too. I want my dragon."

He exhaled shakily, his chest felt so tight he could barely breathe now. The animal he'd worked so hard to keep caged in her presence was primed break free. And this time he wouldn't attempt to stop it.

If she wanted this…if she wanted him…he'd give her everything.

With a low growl, he cupped her cheek with his free hand and drew her back to him, claiming her lips roughly. His lips devoured hers as her tongue sought his out in a delicious entanglement. His other hand tightly gripped into the hold he had on her bottom as he skillfully flipped her onto her back.

She panted against him, allowing him more access to the molten heat of her soft mouth. Rhaena moaned softly as her own hands travelled down his back and slid over his backside.

He groaned against her as she swallowed the sound, her graceful fingers slid to his front, finally undoing the laces of his breeches.

At that moment Aemond broke the kiss to glance down at her hands, Gods this was finally happening. He released a shuddering breath as she undid the last knot, pulling his breeches down, exposing his very needy cock.

Gods he was a mess, he was leaking so much precum it was a wonder he hadn't spilled himself entirely already.

His jaw clenched tightly as he watched Rhaena reach for him, smirking knowingly at him, "oh my, Aemond. Is all this for me?"

A choked shuddering groan caught Aemond by surprise when he felt her gently stroke him, her small hand unable to grasp him fully. She was gazing wondrously down his lengthy member, marvelling at the weight and thick girth of it, her thumb gently gliding over the leaky smooth tip.

Surely he was dreaming, he dreamt of a scenario just like this several times a week. It always started with her praising his size, touching him slowly and carefully, unsure of how to hold him. Then she'd stroke him like she knew exactly what she was doing, then she'd take him into her mouth-

Fuck, he needed focus!

His cock throbbed in the cradle of her hands, twitching at every touch she gave him. Drawing more precum from his plump tip.

This was ridiculous, he'd had his cock stroked before…fuck, he stroked it quite often himself to just mere thoughts of Rhaena. But they seemed like such rough rushed desperate affairs in comparison to this. Her tender touch was torturing him, his heart was beating against his ribs at a dangerous pace.

And then, his body froze…Rhaena had taken her thumb, dripping in his essence and slowly brought it to her mouth. Her pale violet eyes locked with his, her thick silvery lashes fluttered only once, as her tantalizing pink tongue darted out. Lapping up his drippings, before she slowly slipped her thumb into her mouth. The hollows of her cheeks sinking in as she sucked, a final pop when she drew her thumb from her rosy lips

To say he stopped breathing…would be understatement.

His lips had parted, and he'd been unable to snap them shut.

Rhaena Targaryen just tasted him.

"You taste quite nice, my Prince," she grinned, licking her lips.

Rhaena Targaryen just tasted him…and she liked it.

He wanted those pretty lips wrapped around him, sucking every ounce from him. But he could feel it, his entire body was begging to spill his seed…

He could not, he would not.

He knew all of this pent up wanting, months if not years of wanting Rhaena Targaryen…it would certainly be a large load. And he didn't wish to waste his seed, not when her needy cunt was right there.

Aemond might've wanted to spread her legs and bury himself deep inside, stretch her sweet cunt until she sheathed his thick length.

But he wasn't that cruel.

He was rather large, the first whore he'd ever bedded properly had praised him for it at six and ten. Now at two and twenty, he knew well one was meant to prepare a lady when they entered her…especially when their cock was of his size.

Aemond didn't wish to risk hurting his Rhaena more than necessary, he already knew taking a woman's maidenhead to be a somewhat painful affair for the woman. So he needed to be sure she was ready for him, he needed her to enjoy this just as much he would.

He wanted to wreck her…but he wanted her well satisfied by the end of it.

"Take the gown off," his raspy voice had a slight edge to it, "and spread your legs for me,"

The predatory look she caught in his eye made her smile fade into something more akin to tingling anticipation. And so she did as she was told. Slipping her nightgown off over her head, tossing it to the floor. Then spreading her legs wider for him, letting him slot himself snugly between her legs.

"Good girl," he breathed, slowly touching her with an odd sort of reverence taking over as he enjoyed her warm bare body pressing against him.

Every part of her, visible for him to see and touch and kiss. He kissed her slowly, attempting to regain some composure as he let his hands explore her body with no constraints, gliding over the soft peaks of her breasts and down her smooth stomach. He let his fingers slide past her damp thatch of silvery curls that guarded her core, slipping a digit inside her heated entrance.

She whimpered softly against him as his thumb added pressure to her apex. He worked his finger slowly within her, as his thumb drove in a circular motion against her. Rhaena's arms slid up over his shoulders, gripping into his hair as her lips grew more forceful against his.

Her tongue swiped against his deliciously, lips claiming his as if she knew what she was doing, drawing a series of groans from him. Maybe she had learned well from him.

Aemond's throbbing cock now free from any constrictions was itching to sink into her. Desperate to feel her heated walls surrounding him.

But patience was a virtue, and so he kept his focus on widening her entrance for him.

Adding another finger inside her, stretching her nicely, he pumped into her. Feeling her warm slick gathering on his long slender fingers, making his strokes nice and deep, as he increased his ministrations on her sweet little bud.

His Princess was bucking against his hand, crying softly into his mouth as her grip in his hair pulled tighter.

He lifted off her just slightly, "you seem to really enjoy pulling my hair, sweet girl," he half groaned.

"Oh, Aemond, I can't take it," she moaned needily. The look on her face, her flushed cheeks, furrowed brows, her quivering lips…she looked so perfect for him. He wanted to give her everything. He'd do anything to keep her looking at him just as she was, so much fondness, so much trust, so much wanting.

He softly shushed her, pressing a soft kiss just below her jaw. Nuzzling her softly, while he slid a third digit inside her.

"Mmmmm," she sobbed, her hips truly riding his hand now. His intention was to stroke her slowly, stretching her gently at first, for he understood three fingers was a lot to take. But Rhaena seemed desperate for more, her hips frantically working against his fingers. He curled his fingers within, causing a sleek moan to escape her.

He felt like he was mentally cataloguing the many sweet sounds his Rhaena could make. Banishing the false sounds his imagination had conjured up and replacing them the real far more lovely sounds she actually made. The added fire it gave him knowing he'd been the only one to draw these sounds out of her.

Soon enough he'd make sure he'd be the only one to ever hear them. When he secured her as his bride, his lovely little wife, he'd make sure to draw every possible sound from her.

Even now, he added her disappointed needy whimper to the list when he took his fingers from her, he'd drawn her to the edge just to take it away.

"Oh Aemond, how could you," she pouted, looking up at him, her brows had creased even though her motions had become slightly dazed as her head pressed into her pillows.

He pulled himself away from her, smirking devilishly down at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then down the flat soft skin of her stomach, "oh sweet Rhaena, I promise I'm not done with you yet."

Gods he was eager, pulling himself from her bed, he stepped out of his breeches smoothly. Stepping back to the edge of the bed as he drank her in, splayed completely bare before him.

His fantasies never did do her justice.

Once he secured Rhaena's hand, once she was truly his wife…he wondered how he'd ever leave their bed. Surely he'd want to spend every waking moment filling her sweetly. He knew she'd look absolutely perfect, swollen with his child in her belly. And he just knew his insatiable need for her would intensify once she was heavy with his child.

Gods, he'd make that fantasy a reality too…soon enough.

Aemond slowly climbed back onto the bed, forcing himself to breathe evenly as he sat back on his knees. Watching as Rhaena's eyes widened at the full size of his thick cock, a heated sense of pride washed over him. Certainly whores had complimented the size before, but he'd only care for Rhaena's reaction. She'd held his length in her hands just moments ago, but clearly she hadn't truly realized just how large he was.

Or maybe she was just now realizing where he was finally heading.

He watched intently as she licked her lips before swallowing deeply, "Aemond...you're certain that…your…is going to…fit?"

Clearly when she made her offer to mount him earlier, she’d underestimated the size she would’ve been riding.

Aemond grinned wide, caressing her warm thighs absentmindedly, keeping his eyes on hers, "my cock will definitely fit, sweet girl."

He'd make sure of it.

"But it's so," Rhaena gulped, propping herself up on her elbows, biting into her lip, "...massive." Her eyes were glued to his thick long member, and while he should've been more thoughtful about her apprehensive feelings…her expression and her words were only driving his burning desires further.

Aemond smirked, grabbing a hold of her hips and pulling her closer to him, "well I thank you. You honour me, truly."

Grabbing a couple of pillows from beside her, he gently lifted her as he slipped them underneath her lower back. Elevating her hips upwards for him, he held his cock in hand and stroked the length in a couple of smooth motions before he aimed himself for her.

Rhaena's eyes followed his movements in clear anticipation, her hands fisting the sheets at her sides.

Slowly, he held her hips in place as he guided himself, his tip was weeping with need, streams of precum dripping down his engorged length as he gently pressed into her entrance.

"Fuck," Aemond rasped, his lip snarling just a bit, “you're so tight.”

Gods she felt unreal, all burning heat, tight and constricting. He groaned deeply as he pressed further, he knew an innocent's cunt would be tighter than a whore's, but it was clear he wasn't as prepared as he thought. He hadn't anticipated just how tight his lovely girl would be.

Rhaena had gasped when he entered her, whimpering as he sank deeper and deeper. Her wet arousal from his previous preparations had made it slightly easier, but even still, Aemond found himself fighting how incredible the pressure felt. If he wasn't careful he'd spill himself in an instant, and that's the last thing he wanted.

So he worked himself in slowly, grating on his patience, he worked far too hard to achieve this moment. He wouldn't squander now.

Besides that it'd be wholly disappointing to cum now when he hadn't even sheathed his whole length inside of her yet. He had to inch himself in slowly, for if he forced himself in now, he was sure he'd tear her.

Obsessed as he was with possessing her, he was still desperate for her to enjoy this.

Aemond was little more than halfway in, her legs writhing against him, as she bit her lip aggressively, her hands now gripping into her locs. Rhaena's eyes intensely watched as he slowly slid himself into her, sobbing, "Gods, Aemond…I can't…I can't take much more, there's no…I don't think it can fit."

He might've chuckled, his sweet girl sounded drunk and dazed, "you're focusing on it too much," he brought his thumb to his lips and sucked it gently before sliding it down along the apex of her sex. Causing Rhaena to whimper this deliciously haunting sound, it sent a flurry of embers through him as he worked to draw that sound from her again.

He took her lips sweetly at first, letting her dazed lips trace along his, her tongue gaining access to his mouth, exploring him hungrily. He let her lead their sloppy kiss, breathing hard and intensely, distracting her entirely. Rhaena's hands smoothly slipped into his silky strands, all the while he slowly slid himself out of her and then slammed himself into her, one solid stroke, finally breaking her maidenhead successfully.

She cried into his mouth, her chest heaved against his as her grip in his hair sharply tugged from the full intrusion.

He knew he'd stretched further than his fingers had prepared her for.

But finally, Aemond was well and truly sheathed within her, brought to the hilt, her plush bottom pressed sweetly against his balls.

Aemond let out a shuddering breath, his cock now throbbing deep within her. Of the handful of women he'd bedded in the past, nothing would compare to this. Nothing had felt so otherworldly, so straining and perfectly exquisite.

A delicious heat sprang through him, so much so that he had to take a moment to calm himself. Willing himself not to spill his seed just yet.

Rhaena's fingers curled in his hair, her head dropping back, "oh Gods," she shuddered.

Her little moan finally spurred him into action, he withdrew his cock just slightly, before thrusting himself back into her. At first his sweet girl whimpered and winced, her hands had slid down his back, nails digging deeply into his skin, sending a raging heat coursing through his veins.

He kept his thrusts steady and smooth, but as soon as Rhaena's moans grew more sensual his ferocity took hold. His hips snapping into her with more need and fervour.

She moaned so lovely for him as his cock licked her deeply, his sweet Rhaena taking his full length in.

"Gods, Rhaena," Aemond moaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck, "Mmm you feel so good, you're taking my cock so well."

She couldn't respond to his praise, her moans had risen to the most heavenly sobs he'd ever heard. He was pleasing his goddess and it made his heart ignite.

Her arms had wrapped around his neck while her legs had latched around his waist, holding him close, pressing his pelvis hotly against her hips. He felt like he was becoming one with her, their bodies writhing in burning synchronicity. Two dragons bonding fiercely.

A dragon and his rider.

She'd made the offer to ride him earlier, and by now he was quite certain she wasn't ready to take him in such a way. He'd happily teach her how once he'd gotten her used to his size.

Aemond had kept one hand on her hip, the other pressing against the headboard of her bed to steady himself. He could feel his peak creeping up, each deep stroke drawing more and more pleasure for them both. She was crying his name, begging him for more, though she couldn't specify what.

Aemond was certain he’d died and ascended by now.

He pulled himself back only slightly, keeping his thrusts at an even pace as he gazed down at his Lady. The picture of beauty and perfection, her flushed tawny skin, her hypnotic pale violet eyes peering up at him all heavily lidded, hazed in desire and pleasure. Her silvery locs all sprawled beneath her like a classic painting of old.

His Valyrian Goddess.

She was going to claim her dragon, he'd make sure of it.

Aemond sat himself back into a seating position, pulling Rhaena into his arms, keeping his cock buried within her, he had her sat atop of him. Still rocking himself into her leisurely now, drawing out her climax for as long as possible. The warmth of her soft body pressed wholly against him, swaying in his arms as she slid her fingers into his hair once again.

If tonight taught him one thing, his Lady was quite taken with his hair.

A note he'd be sure to exploit going forward.

Looking deep into her lovely eyes, he felt like he could lose himself in them, they were like precious Amethyst gems staring back at him.

Aemond's hands gripped into her soft bottom, trailing up her smooth back. His hand wrapped around her long locs, pulling nicely. Ripping a strangled moan from Rhaena's throat, her hands grasping his broad shoulders for stability.

It'd never been like this before.

He'd never fucked a woman like this…he'd never call anything he did with women, making love.

But this…this was definitely the closest he'd come to it.

Being with her now, he knew he never wanted to fuck anyone else ever again, this was his peak, he'd never do better. No other woman had ever or would ever compare.

Obsessed as he was, he knew he would not want for anyone else. Everything started and ended with her, he would not share, he would not give her up. He'd bind her to him, keep her with him always. Possessing her body and soul, he wanted everything from her…down to the last minute detail…if this was what love felt like, then he was sure this was love.

Rhaena was the one, and he wanted this to be clear. He wanted her to say it. Before he spilled himself, she'd have to tell him.

He claimed her lips first though, it was possessive, harsh and needy. He hoped to pour everything he felt in this moment into that kiss.

When he broke their kiss, cupping her cheek with one hand, he gazed deeply into those eyes that meant everything to him. "Rhaena," his voice rasped, his throat grown hoarse and breathy, "...you've mounted your dragon, my sweet. Now claim him,"

She'd leaned into his caressing hand, whining softly as she nodded. Rhaena's back had arched, her hips rocking against his with a clear purpose in mind. She'd pulled him flush against her, her nails scratching along his back as he felt her building her own brutal pace. He groaned soft praises into her ear as she fucked herself beautifully on his cock, he'd found that sweet spot within her moments ago and now he made sure his hips aimed for it with with every rock of her hips.

And then he felt it.

Her lovely core crushing in around his cock, she'd cried his name in the most beautiful sobbing moan he'd ever heard.

This was better than any fantasy.

For Aemond had not known his name could sound so lovely just falling from his beloved's lips as they did.

He kissed her cheek and her temple softly, but he was not done. He fought against her squeezing muscles, now that she'd taken her pleasure, he aimed to take his.

Boneless in his arms, he laid her back down. She'd mumbled something about how beautiful she thought he looked in Valyrian, her eyes sleepily gazing up at him, her lips in a soft satisfied smile.

He was going to wreck his little pristine Princess.

Aemond took her arms and raised them above her head, leaning down he kissed her slowly, coaxing her back to reality, the haze of her climax slowly wearing off her.

When he saw her eyes widen for him, he only grinned knowingly, "I want you to cum for me again, sweet girl,"

She'd bit her trembling lip, shaking her head, "Aemond, no, I can't."

He'd given his sweet little Princess two magnificent orgasms already, but he was aiming for a third now.

He stilled his hips for a moment, still embedded within her. Aemond grasped both her wrists together in one hand above her head. Her exquisite full breasts beautifully pulled and angled for him. His eyes lingered on her soft rosy lips, plush and swollen from his attention. His sweet princess, all his, "you can, sweet girl. Just let me give it to you, all you have to do is cum for me."

With that he kissed her sweetly, slowly rocking his hips before growing a viscous pace.

He'd asked a lot of his cock this evening, kept a stamina he wasn't even sure he could only to finally have his moment now. He hadn't been selfish, he lavished his Princess with all the attention and worship she deserved. He put her pleasure above his for most of the night, but this was his.

He would chase her pleasure yet again and capture his own in the midst of it.

Aemond felt the power and rage building up, all the moons he wished for nothing but this. Picturing and imaging her…suffering through lesser cheap versions of her.

She was the blood of the dragon, same as he, the blood of Old Valyria.

Their blood sang for one another's, that is why this felt so heavenly.

He felt like they were fated. She was meant to be his, only his.

The Gods had made her just for him, her body fit against his perfectly right.

Rhaena's body writhed beneath his, legs tightly wrapping around his waist as her hips desperately rose to meet his deadly strokes. He watched as every deep stroke gave him a glimpse of the bulge his penetration caused in her lower belly. The way her perky breasts heaved and swayed just for him, as her lips trembled a series of moans just for him, the way her hands struggled within right hand. As his other hand gripped tightly into the dip of her waist, bruising her most likely.

His hair had fallen over her, as he bore his gaze into hers, he felt his peak coming. He couldn't hold on any longer.

"My beautiful, sweet, perfect, Rhaena," he groaned, breathing erratically, "say you're mine, all mine."

"Aemond," she moaned just as his cock stroked her sweet spot,

"Say it," he rasped, his grasp on her wrists growing tighter.

At that Rhaena cried, "I'm yours!"

"All mine," he whispered lowly, pumping into her. This time when her walls clenched around him, he finally let his peak wash over him. Willing himself to keep his eyes open, because he couldn't possibly miss the enchanting look on his sweet Rhaena's face when she came for him. A silent cry on her tongue as his final moan died strangled and needy.

That fire coursing through him finally burst free, like an explosion waiting to happen, his heart felt beyond full, he felt so right…like the first time he flew on Vhagar and knew she'd chosen him.

This time…Rhaena Targaryen had chosen him.

Finally spilling his hot seed inside her, her cunt seemingly hell-bent on milking every last drop from him as her muscles squeezed his cock brutally. He felt the warmth of her arousal coating his shaft as his arms finally gave out.

Collapsing onto her, this had taken everything out of him.

He worried about how heavy his weight would be on top of her, but once her hands were free from his hold, she only held him closer. Stroking his hair soothingly, as he groaned hazily.

He'd never felt so sated…so content and comfortable.

This feeling was beyond what he'd ever imagined. A feeling he'd never even thought to chase, for he wouldn't have known what he was looking for exactly.

But this warmth…this utter coziness…it was as if he'd found a home. A true home here with her. Somewhere he was meant to be, somewhere he truly belonged.

When his strength returned, he'd keep himself sheathed within her for just a bit longer. He wasn't ready to lose her, he didn't wish to sever their connection just yet.

Plus he figured the longer he stayed within her, the more likely his seed would settle within her. He was quite serious about filling her with his child.

Daemon could rant and rage in the aftermath all he wanted, but he knew Daemon would have to see reason if his daughter was with child.

Aemond's child.

He'd iron out the things necessary to say to her father on the morrow, for now he'd need to slowly pull himself from her.

Aemond knew it was inevitable, he would have to, he could not fall asleep still inside her…though maybe he wished he could.

Slowly pulling himself out, he gazed longingly at the cavernous hole he'd made. Her cunt stretched wide and big just to fit him snugly. Aemond's eye watched as their mingling viscous fluids slowly leaked out of her and placed his fingers at her opening to stop it. Gently fucking the mixture back inside of her.

Rhaena gasped just slightly, "Aemond,"

"I'm quite serious about that babe, Rhaena," he remarked, his undivided attention on her lovely stretched cunt, he felt so much pride over it. For he was the one who had her wrecked so, "can't let our chance for a child spill onto the bed."

When he'd finished, he sat back gazing down at her. In his fantasies he hadn't taken the time to imagine what she'd look like afterwards. He hadn't dared to think that far ahead he supposed.

But now, seeing his Rhaena look so calm…so satiated…so utterly and truly well fucked. He couldn't help but feel that surging pride swell within him once again.

Leaning down, he kissed her forehead tenderly. Laying down beside her, gathering her arm in his arms and pulling onto him. She seemed to naturally want him to, nuzzling her head against his chest, wrapping herself around him as he held her close. Pressing kisses to the top of her head, as she mumbled sleepily.

"Aemond," Rhaena said, his name barely above a whisper.

"Hmm," he hummed, rubbed soothing motions against her back and down the thigh she had draped over his legs.

"Iksan aōhon," I am yours, she ran her soft fingers across his chest, through his faint pale chest hair before she reached up for his chin, "yn nyke've also claimed ñuha zaldr��zes, issi ao ñuhon sir tolī?" but I've also claimed my dragon, are you mine now too?, she'd tilted his chin down, ghosting her lips across his.

Her eyes pleading with him for his response, he'd swallowed raggedly. His heart once again hammering in his chest, he'd all but ordered her to tell him she belonged to him in the heat of their coupling.

But now, even afterwards, the hazy satisfaction of their lovemaking made way to clarity. And within that, she was still giving herself to him.

Willingly so, she'd allowed him to claim her…and she wanted him to allow her the same.

Semantics really, for in his heart, he'd long since have himself away to her.

She just wanted him to say it.

He took her lips once more, consuming her for himself, the freedom to be allowed to do so whenever he wished was all he'd want next. He breathed her in, held her as close as possible before he gently parted from her lips.

"Iksan aōhon," I am yours, he breathed, feeling something akin to a massive weight lift off of him, "va moriot" always. He drew his fingers through her hair, caressing closely as she smiled up at him.

"Aemond Targaryen, ever the romantic," she grinned brightly, cupping his scarred cheek in her soft hand, "who would've thought."

His eye nearly rolled as he fought the grin growing on his face, "just for you," said somewhat tersely.

When her smile grew wider, he sought to regain control. Pulling her waist up and on top of him, causing a small shriek to slip through her lips as she laid herself on him. She did not fight him, in fact there was no hint of reluctance at all.

He wasn't sure why he kept expecting her to suddenly refuse him…reject him. Turn away and run screaming from him as if she could clearly see the monster he was now in the dim light of the candles. In the clarity beyond the haze of her wanting…he couldn't help but fear she'd change her mind.

Or worse, regret all this.

Regret all they'd done…all she let him do.

But Rhaena would surprise him yet again, her legs straddling his hips as she happily snuggled her cheek against his warm chest. Letting her hands slide along his sides before she wrapped them around him, pressing her warmth against him.

He was sure she could hear his erratic heart beat, feel the way his chest rose and fell with each shaky breath he took.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, tell her how she was the only one for him, how there would never be anyone else for him.

Maybe it was far too soon for all that, it was all far too emotional and vulnerable in any case, he'd never utter the words in all actuality.

So he opted to just wrap his arms around her, clutch her close and let her feel how secure she could feel within his arms.

He could show her how he felt. And then she'd know.

Technically this little slutty story COULD end right here, but I promised someone a BJ scene and that did not fit within this part, sooo expect that and the wrap up will be in PART 5! I don't why I bother trying to estimate the end of this crack fic when I just end up writing more for it.

#rhaena x aemond #aemond x rhaena #rhaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #rhaena smut #aemond smut #rhaemond #hotd fanfic #hotd fic

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cymbaline72 · 2 months

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Swallow Your Pillars Whole- Hannibal fanfic

Summary- Hannibal comes out to Will in a fucked up way during therapy. This scene takes place in late season 2. ft. bitchy Will.

1K words

........

Hannibal and Will faced opposite each other. Will leaned back in his chair, legs spread and elbows leaning against the armrests. Hannibal faced forward, posture straight, and hands dangling at his lap.

“Your becoming lies between you and I Will,” he began, “A tethering of forged efforts, blood, and smoke risen through the flame.” He looked into Will’s eyes with strength and knowing, and the gesture was mirrored. “This is your monument Will. Do not let Jack Crawford stand in the way.” Hannibal spoke with lulling ebbs and waves of sound, stable and direct.

“The fire will swallow him too. Just another civilian casualty.” Will gazed straight, unmoving.

“Is alana bloom a casualty?” He began with a trembling fluctuation in tone.

“Are you going to eat her?” He placed a sultry emphasis on eat, and tilted his head in suggestion. His eyes were wide and cold.

“God invokes piety in his worshippers, then strikes them. Their undying olatry only strengthens the wrath upon their downfall.” Filtered daylight shone on Hannibal’s cheek, masking the rest in warm shadow. His face was visible from a pointed angle, jaw soft but expression forward.

“You fabricate trust,” Will started. “When the prey is trapped and unidentifiably enfolded within the nest, the snake slithers across and swallows it whole.” His words meandered in dark circles, a personal wound. A jab, an attempt at retaliation.

Hannibal took in his glare with indifference. “The time is celebratory.” He was seemingly unaffected, transparent.

“Wine, Will?”

Will hardened his stare, focused, glimpsing beyond the cracks. He did not respond. Hannibal stood up leisurely, taking in his lack of an answer. He buttoned his jacket with a swift pull, and advanced towards his desk. His gaze jutted towards Will voluntarily, then returned straight beyond him.

He lifted a bottle of wine and two glasses at his desk, that had been set there hours ahead in expectation. Will took the cue to step forward and join him. He walked away from the sunlit glow of the windows, and became set in the dim lushness where the illumination did not reach. Firelight reflected onto his features, absorbing a darker, rustling glow. Hannibal took him in, standing harsh and tall. Will was one with the scene and his energy palatable.

Hannibal gracefully poured a stream of wine into the glass, the sound smooth and sharp and continuous. He met Will’s eyes with a suggestive tilt of his face, then handed over the glass.

Their fingers brushed lightly, and Hannibal lingered at the exchange. Will’s hand stood still, only accepting the wine. Uncooperative. Hannibal gazed at him with sharpness and depth, but Will shut him off coldly. He took a sip of his wine unflinching, eyes unreceptive like stone.

“How many unsuspecting lovers have been sacrificed for your monument?” He said, teeth bared, tensed, expression hardening. A rough, pursed emphasis on his lips.

“As many as were necessary.” Hannibal looked downwards, and trinkled a delicate stream of wine into his own glass. Voice and actions matched in calm.

“Tell me doctor lecter, when you slaughtered your first pillar, did you rejoice in her revelation?” His tone was almost bright. “Did you savour the deception that wounded as the last words on her lips?” There was a nagging curiosity, an unfolding of elements.

Hannibal placed the bottle of wine down with a clink, then resumed his residual gaze. A matched curiosity, connection.

“I relished in his wounds, mental and physical, and the mutilation at the core of his being,” he said, defying. 'He,' 'His,' a softness in pronunciation.

He met Will’s eyes. Silence overcame them. His voice had been hard in menace but calculated, breezing in admission. Elements had unfolded.

Will met his eyes. He projected a quizzical stare, softening and hardening. He took a sip from his glass, lips clamped around the ring. Their eye contact did not falter, but whatever lay within their vision was unknowable. Will sighed lightly. He oriented himself towards Hannibal. His face tilted upwards baring his neck, and he leaned against the desk, hips jutting outwards. Suggestive, hostile. Will’s eyes were wide, expression blank. He took another sip of wine, their inexplicable pull unremitting.

“You assume my point of view, and stand victorious at your dissection,” Hannibal began, a thinning of his eyes, a dragging in his lure.

“Do I still have the ability to surprise you?” He drank a sip of his own wine, and turned his face to the side. His profile and features were sharp and leering.

“Was that not the desired effect?” Will said crisply, a ghosting of his lips on the words.

“To understand your truth is to reflect your perceived truth of others, and witness the reality before you.”

“I witness you.” Will deliberated. “I understand,” he paused, “that your proclivities grasp at both the desire to mimic god, and to swallow your pillars whole.” He finished with a tang, dragging out the syllables, the faint curve of a smile on his lips. He placed his mouth on the wine glass and swallowed a gulp, tension persisting.

Hannibal stared with heavy lids, watching intensely. The glint in his expression was not exclusive to malice, nor delight.

“You surprise me, Will.” It was almost casual.

“We've surpassed typical boundaries of judgement and initial discomfort.” Will stared to the edge of the room purposefully, denying his eyes. He then flickered back, raising an eyebrow, suggestively.

“We accept one another because we are the same,” Hannibal spoke with lightness. “Mirrors of each others image.”

“I’m not like you, Doctor Lecter,” Will said.

His words were slowed, and harsh. Hannibal only looked back at him with stillness. If the statement had affected him, he did not show it.

#hannibal #hannibal nbc #hannibal x will #hannibal fanfiction #fanfic #coming out #lgbtqia

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oxenfreeao3 · 1 year

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The following is excerpted from Saltwater on AO3

“Vi…” Ekko hesitated, “where were you?"

Her gut clenched. Bile churned. She’d wondered when he was going to ask. Had kinda hoped he just…wouldn’t.

But he deserved to know.

She took a breath.

"Stillwater."

The word shuddered out of her.

"Stillwater?" Ekko flinched. A little too loud. A little too fast. Not the answer he expected, then. He shook his head. “Nah. Since when? Not the whole time."

"Yeah," she swallowed.

"Since…?"

Vi lowered her head between her shoulders. Tension pestered a muscle in her neck. When it spasmed, she rounded her back to make it let go.

Boards creaked beside her as Ekko shifted his weight.

"But…that…it doesn't make sense. We've had people in and out of there. No one saw—you're hard to miss. Someone would've told me.”

Vi let out another breath. Her leg began to rattle with nerves.

Ekko touched the back of his hand to her arm.

"I looked,” he said, “After—I looked for you. If I'd known—"

She cut him off. Had too.

"You couldn't've known, Little Man. No one could've." She ground a thumb into her palm, twisting. Her mouth went sour. "They, um…they threw me in with the Lifers."

"...what?"

She couldn’t look at him.

"Yeah,” she said quickly, “So, don't beat yourself up. 'Kay?"

Eyes burning, she pretended to scratch her chin on her shoulder.

Ekko stopped to take a few steadying breaths of his own. Vi could hear him moving. His hand was on his neck again, rubbing. She knew the sound by now.

He huffed and let his arm drop.

"How'd you get out? " he asked.

There. Relief. Subject change. This, she could do. Clearing her throat, Vi pulled her gaze back from… wherever it had gone and leaned forward to scan the grounds below. Spotting a lithe figure in the distance, she tipped her chin.

"Told you,” she said, “Her."

Ekko followed her gaze. His eyes caught on Caitlyn’s outline as she walked across the lawn.

"Huh. Yeah, so what's up with that, exactly?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You tell me.” He rearranged his limbs. “You're saying she brought you back."

"Yeah."

"Okay. Why?"

Vi shrugged.

"Silco. She wanted help getting dirt on him. I wanted to find Powder. There was…overlap, I guess. Didn't realize how much, though."

"And? " Ekko still wasn’t satisfied.

She glanced at him. "And…what?"

"And that still doesn't explain why a Piltie enforcer was willing to trade out her life for a trencher."

"Oh.” That. “Yeah, I don't get it, either,” she admitted. Her eyes followed Caitlyn as she stopped to talk to a bird-masked firelight with lively hands. “I think she just cares."

"...about?"

Vi glanced at her fists. "Everything. Everyone."

Ekko didn’t respond. Not directly, and not for a while. When he finally spoke again, his tone was grave.

"I'm risking a lot on your word, you know. Trusting her."

"I know,” Vi lifted a shoulder, “but I stand by it."

Ekko’s hum of acknowledgement was grudging, barely blunted by acceptance. But he didn’t argue, and he didn’t ask anymore questions. He just arched his back and stretched, settling back into the sun.

Grateful, Vi dropped down onto her forearms, letting the railing take her weight. Knitting her fingers, she let her eyes follow Caitlyn as the enforcer moved deeper into the sanctuary. For the first time, she noticed the sag in the satchel on Caitlyn’s back.

“Ekko,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Her gun.”

“Huh?”

“You should give her back her gun.”

“What gun?” The Firelight leaned forward, squinting. With a frown, he shook his head and sat back. “She didn’t have one on her when we took you.”

“...you sure?”

Ekko lowered his chin and gave her an indulgent smirk. “Uh, yeah. I’m sure.”

Vi pushed off the railing with a scowl. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she turned and stalked towards the stairs.

Ekko called after her. “Where are you going?”

“Be back in a bit.”

#arcane #arcane fanart #arcane fanfic #piltoversfinest #violyn #caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #vi #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ekko #SaltwaterAO3

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acatalystrising · 2 years

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I’m back with the next oneshot, this time suggested by the amazing @spooky-karl : a jealous Boba/clueless reader prompt! This was a LOT of fun to write, so I hope you enjoy!

Oneshot: Hidden Desires

“You’re doing it again, boss.” Fennec’s dry voice rolled over the background music, soft enough for him alone to hear.

“Doing what?” Boba leaned against the back of his throne, idly tapping his fingers on the stone armrest.

“You realize she’s never going to know you like her if you sit here and brood, right?” The master assassin leaned further against her perch on the throne’s side, one brow lifted at him in one of her usual pointed looks. “Seriously. All this pining is gonna make me sick.”

Boba huffed, flicking his gaze over the gathered crowd, pointedly hesitating before his eyes fell on you.

You…and the young, wide-eyed, fluffy-haired excuse for a man you were talking to.

He’d seen you spending time with him for months, now. Nearly inseparable, always laughing about something. He liked it when you smiled, there was such a…light to you, something that took his breath away. He only wished you’d smile at him like that, too. Given that you’d been working at the palace ever since he’d taken over, you’d crossed paths before, but he’d always been busy, unable to stop and have a proper conversation. But you had captured his attention the moment he’d first seen you.

“Boba…c’mon,” Fennec’s tone sharpened, shaking him from his thoughts. “Just talk to her. For all you know, the feelings could be mutual.”

A sharp bark of laughter rose over the din, and he nearly flinched, hiding the reaction with a roll of his shoulders. He knew how he looked, up on his throne - the Daimyo of Tatooine: dangerous and cunning, formidable beskar glinting in the firelight. He was powerful, renowned, and had faced more hells then most people would ever dream of. And yet the prospect of being rejected by you was something that twisted his stomach into knots.

“That boy is too young. Doesn’t know how to treat a woman like her.” His voice was low, nearly a growl, but he could only curb it so much. He clenched his fists and sighed, returning his attention to Fennec. “I don’t understand what she sees in him. Doesn’t she know she’s worth more then that?”

“Maybe she doesn’t…unless you tell her.” She slid off the side of the throne with a sigh, still wearing that admonishing look. “You gotta do it, boss. If you don’t take the leap, she’ll slip through your fingers and you’ll regret it. And who knows, you may have more of a chance then you think.”

“Perhaps.” He watched her turn to face him, her lips curved in a small smile.

“I’m getting a drink. Do us both a favor and take the step.”

Boba didn’t respond, merely watching the assassin slip through the edge of the crowd toward the bar, eyes still surveying everyone. He sighed, wishing he could just don his helmet and slip away to the safe quiet of his rooms. But he had to be here, as the head of his family…

He looked back at you, and felt something in him snap when your lively companion gave your cheek a quick peck. He stood so abruptly he startled a couple passing by. He paid them no mind, forcing himself to walk down the steps slowly, even as a mixture of rage and jealously swirled to a combustive mix in his chest.

Damn it, get a hold of yourself. You’ve hunted hundreds of bounties. Escaped a sarlacc. Outlived an empire. You can talk to a kriffing girl.

He slipped through the crowd, eyes fixed on you, heartbeat thundering in his ears. He could do this. He wasn’t a coward. He’d tell you how he felt, be honest, and…

You suddenly turned and hurried out of the room, the younger man in tow. Frustration and rage welled in Boba’s chest, and he resisted the urge to find the boy later and cave in his skull. But he truly hadn’t ever done anything to upset him other than capturing the attentions of the one woman Boba was interested in. He was a hard worker, did what he was told, and any interference would be manipulative - something he refused to stoop to.

Well, that settled that. Boba didn’t want to think about the way his heart sank in his chest like some lovestruck foundling. He cursed under his breath and veered to the bar, sliding next to Fennec with a grunt, setting his helmet on the counter.

“So?” She sipped her drink, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“She’s gone,” he flagged the bartender down with a flick of his chin, hating that he was practically seething, jealousy wrapping around his throat like claws. His words were choked, clipped and curt. “I was too late.”

“I see.” Fennec looked away with a small nod, draining the rest of her spotchka in one gulp and sliding it back to the bartender for another. “I’m sorry.”

Boba only hummed a response, lifting his drink to his lips, hoping it was strong enough to shove his emotions back down where they belonged. It was probably for the best, anyway. He was scarred…older, nowhere near the person he’d been in his prime - for better or for worse.

And if you were happy, that really was all that mattered.

You stormed out of the room with a near growl on your lips, finally relinquishing your hold on your friend’s shoulder when you both were well into the hall and out of earshot.

You were starting to believe you had the worst luck ever. Boba Fett, of all people, had looked like he’d wanted to talk. But of course, per the trajectory of your life, someone had to ruin the moment.

“Hey, what’s the big-“

“Why the kriff did you kiss me?” You spun on your heels, eyes narrowed, anger flaring in your chest. “Chaz, we’ve talked about this. I like being your friend, a lot, but that’s it. That was a really dumb move.”

“It was just a peck…” Chaz grinned sheepishly, crossing his arms to try to mirror your expression. Judging by his reddened cheeks and slurred speech, he was already nearly drunk. “‘S not like I kissed you kissed you. Though I would, if…”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose with a frown, hoping you’d have enough self-control to stop yourself from fully snapping.

“You crossed a line, okay? You’re a fun friend, really - but you’ve been so pushy lately.” You met his gaze, hoping he was sober enough to understand. “I’m not into you like that. And I need you to respect that I-“

“That’s not fair.” Chaz pushed himself up from against the wall, approaching you with a frown. “Yes, we’re friends, but I’d want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. Is that really so bad a thing to want?”

“It is, if both parties don’t agree.” You locked gazes with him, and despite the fact that he was taller, he withered and slowly took a step back. You sighed, gesturing back at the room where the party still continued. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you. Ever since Boba took over, things have been so much better here. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

Chaz’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and you inwardly groaned.

Here we go again.

“Oh, so it’s just Boba now, huh?” Chaz spun on his heels and paced, brows furrowed, barely able to walk in a straight line. “I knew you had a thing for the Daimyo. Called it. Kriff, I don’t even stand a chance against that. Why are you such a bitch?”

“Chaz, you’re drunk. You need rest, sleep this off.” You expertly dodged the question and turned the attention back to him. “I’m concerned for you. The way you’re talking about me…it’s obsessive. I don’t want to keep hanging out if it’s too difficult for you.”

Then Chaz did the unthinkable. He reached out with a frown and gripped your shoulder, fingers squeezing tight enough to bruise.

“You don’t understand, I love you! I-“

“Let. Me. Go.” You locked eyes with him, tone dripping, and your hand slid unconsciously toward the blaster holstered at your hip.

His gaze followed your movement, and he cursed, pulling away with a dark frown.

“Whatever, this is stupid. Not dealin’ with this anymore. I quit.” He turned away and stormed down the hall before you could get another word in, and you sighed when he turned the corner, leaving you alone in the silent hall.

Ahh, kriff. Why are people always so annoying?

You sighed, adjusting your shirt, trying to ignore the familiar pain that made your heart ache. You’d never had the best luck with friends, and the ones you had didn’t usually stick around. Oh well, it’s not like you hadn’t been here before. The last thing you needed right now was to think about the past, or deal with the fresh pain of your present - so you turned and headed back to the throne room.

You needed a drink.

The crowd had thinned considerably when you reentered, and you slipped around the straggling guests and made your way to the bar.

You were so lost in your thoughts, upset with the way things had gone with Chaz, that you automatically took a seat before you realized who you’d sat next to.

You glanced to your side, and your eyes immediately widened when you met the gaze of your boss, Boba Fett. He was helmet-less and looked mildly surprised, and you realized with a groan that no one else was there - he clearly had come here to be alone.

“Oh kriff, I’m so sorry,” you went to move, heartbeat fluttering when he shook his head, calling the bartender over with a small smile.

“It’s okay, you’re welcome to stay.” He let you give your order, patiently waiting until the bartender walked away. Gods, his voice was deep - you always forgot how every word spoken from the damn man’s tongue sent a warmth curling down your spine. “Is something wrong?”

Stars, he was perceptive. Or you were just really bad at hiding your emotions. You met his gaze, and found his expression to be surprisingly soft. You’d never been this close to him before, not without his helmet anyway, and you prayed to whatever gods existed that you weren’t blushing.

“I’m okay,” you managed a smile, hating that your voice nearly squeaked, but not with fear - Maker, he was attractive. You were so, so out of your league, even talking to him. “It’s just been a long day.”

He nodded, shifting to take another sip of his drink, and you couldn’t stop yourself from observing him as you were given your own beverage, the liquor a welcome warmth settling in the back of your throat. You’d heard so much about the formidable ex-bounty hunter, but he’d only ever been respectful to you and the rest of the palace’s staff.

“Where’s your friend?” He spoke casually, gaze flicking back to you a raised brow. “Well, boyfriend, I wager.”

“Chaz? Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.” You sighed and took a swig of your drink, unable to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “That’s why I’m here. He’s, well…was, my friend…but the guy doesn’t know how to take no for answer.”

“Did he hurt you?” Boba shifted in his seat to better face you; broad, armored frame accompanied by a near protectiveness in his rough voice nearly making you blush.

You detected a particularly dangerous edge to his tone, but you somehow understood it wasn’t directed at you.

“No, he’s just annoying,” you took another sip, starting to feel the alcohol take effect, but you recognized that tone enough to know you had to intervene. “Don’t worry, I can take care of myself. You don’t survive around here by being soft.”

Oh kriff, were you trying to sound tough? He was surely just being nice - you needed to get a hold of yourself. You took another swig of your drink and tried to play it off with a shrug.

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Boba watched you, lips slightly parted as if he wanted to say more, and you found yourself leaning toward him, waiting to hear what he had to say.

Pretending, if even for a moment, that someone like him would show a shred of interest in someone like you.

“There you are!” Chaz’s voice, which you suddenly recognized to be much squeakier then Boba’s, interrupted the moment.

You turned, but you could have sworn you heard Boba groan as the younger man approached, and you cataloged that for future pondering.

“Figures that you’re here,” he was still drunk, if not more so, and you wanted to sink into your chair. You’d just tried to get him out of trouble, and here he was, unknowingly digging himself into a deeper hole. “What’s he got that I don’t have, huh?”

Oh stars, you wanted to go bury yourself in the sand and call it a grave.

You were glad Boba couldn’t see your face, because you were certain it was red as the suns themselves. So you focused your anger on Chaz instead.

“I told you to go get some sleep. You’re drunk.” Your kept your tone icy, even. Hoping he’d listen. Really, really, wishing he’d get the message and leave before he got killed. “We’ve already been over this, so quit it. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

And me…

“But I-“

“You heard her,” a thunderous voice behind you nearly made you flinch, and you felt the chair behind you scrape against the floor as Boba stood. “When a woman says no, you listen.”

“I get you’re my boss, and I respect that,” Chaz had the audacity to cross his arms, indignantly meeting the older man’s gaze. “But she’s my friend. We’re having a conversation I wanna finish.”

Your jaw dropped so fast you could have sworn it would hit the floor. Was he insane? Did he have a death wish?

Boba walked past you, deathly silent, and stood before Chaz with a furious glare and taut jaw. He was imposing as a mountain, his beskar gleaming in the dull lighting, and you finally saw fear cross your friend’s eyes despite his drunken state.

“I’ve killed people for less then your insolent words, boy. And you’re only breathing because I wouldn’t dare upset her,” he jerked a thumb back at you, tone low, nearly a growl. “She’s a true beauty in this desolate desert. Know your place. If I ever see you antagonize her again, it’ll be the last breath you draw.”

Chaz flinched, face draining of all color, and he shot a panicked glance at you before he turned and bolted out of the room without another word.

But you were no longer thinking about him. Your gaze was locked on Boba’s armored back, mind replaying his words on repeat. Had he…just called you beautiful? And what was more was that he’d defended you with such fierceness, it didn’t make sense…

He turned back to face you, and the moment his eyes met yours, the darkness shifted to something softer. Maker, you knew nothing about men such as him. Was this how he treated everyone? And yet he looked hesitant as he spoke, as if he was worried you were upset.

“I’m sorry about that. Didn’t want to scare you,” he seemed somehow smaller when he sat back in his chair, drowning the remnants of his drink with one gulp. “You’re worth more then that kid’ll understand.”

You took a breath, turning to meet his waiting gaze, daring yourself to be brave.

“Did you mean that?” You frowned slightly, mustering the courage to speak your mind even at the risk of being wrong. “When you said I was beautiful?”

“Of course,” he didn’t skip a beat, expression matter-of-fact, the corner of his lip curving in a deliciously small smile. “I’ve wanted to tell you that for months.”

You jaw dropped for a second time in one evening, and you watched him, stunned, as he continued.

“But I always saw you with that boy,” he shrugged, the gesture nearly comical for someone wearing such intimidating armor. “Figured I didn’t have a chance.”

“Boba…” his name still felt foreign, yet somehow familiar, leaving your tongue. “Why didn’t you…”

Then it dawned on you, and you blinked, surprised by your own revelation. Was Boba Fett, of all people, jealous?

And so you took a leap, daring to place your hand over his, meeting his gaze - unable to wipe a silly grin from your face.

“Stars, if you’d told me that months ago, I wouldn’t have given Chaz a moment of my time.” You chuckled despite yourself, eyes widening when he took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

His touch was warm, surprisingly soft. The gesture alone made you swoon, and you were glad you were already sitting. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, something nearly protective once again in his eyes.

“Then I’m asking now.” His tone was somehow rougher. “I’ll make up for the time missed, if you’ll allow it.”

Maker, was this really happening? You wanted to pinch yourself, but you spoke instead, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Yes, I’d love that, I just can’t believe…”

“None of that, little one.” He lifted a hand to caress your cheek, and you shuddered at his touch. “You’re beautiful. You must believe that for yourself.”

You nodded, feeling captured in his gaze, and his gaze flicked to your lips and back to your eyes as if waiting for confirmation. You smiled and nodded, and that was all the encouragement he needed to close the distance between you and kiss you so gently, so lovingly, you felt yourself melt in his powerful embrace.

Perhaps you didn’t have such back luck, after all.

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