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the-hidden-pages · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 1 - 'Love' Bites | Overstimulation - Astarion x Fem!Reader

Love bites | Overstimulation | Impact play

Coming out the gates strong with 3500+ words for this man. It has not been edited, I have work in the morning, I'm going to bed.

Summary: With the promise of taking you to a quiet little piece of nowhere to forget all the madness of the adventure, Astarion pulls out all the stops to ensure you forget everything, except the pleasure he gives you.

Warnings: NSFW, Blood, Vampire Kink, Overstimulation, Crying, Light Choking, Dirty Talk

You and Astarion had always had an arrangement.

To say you bonded quickly with your party would be an understatement - having the tadpole within your mind and surviving the same crash tends to form that immediate trauma bond. But you and the vampire had formed a deeper understanding of each other much sooner than the others.

That night, so early on in your adventure, when you awoke to the man perched over you, fangs bared and your throat exposed for the taking, things simply couldn’t go back to the status quo.

It fogged your mind the entirety of the next day, the proximity, the adrenaline, the pure, undiluted hunger.

You’ve allowed him to feed from you every night since.

You played it off as trust, at first. Trust in him, a want to have him fully strengthened for battle. Nothing but business.

But it didn’t take long for him to understand your underlying motivation, the reason you allowed yourself to feel drained, exhausted, and weak for each battle moving forward, perpetually distracted by the memory of his lips and teeth at your neck. The memory welcomed the fantasies with open arms, fantasies of his hands wandering as he drank, kissing your lips with your own blood on his own, his fangs sinking into your thighs, before wandering higher…

Still, you were never going to force it.

So, you allowed him to continue to drink, both aware of the growing tension, both refusing to move further.

Until that changed.

When Astarion came to you, offering for you both to find a “little piece of nowhere”, somewhere to “forget all this madness”, you sure as hell weren’t about to decline.

A chance to get him out of your head was exactly what you needed to think clearly.

Night had long since fallen, as you sat pretending to read one of many absurd tomes Gale had collected throughout the journey. A life of adventuring doesn’t make for the most consistent sleep schedule, and as such awaiting for the entire party to call it a night was practically torment as you tried to ignore the growing heat between your legs.

But no amount of pretending to study the Oral Histories of Faerun could distract you from wondering what pleasures tonight would bring.

When finally, finally, Karlach decided to call it a night, you waited a few moments more before creeping off to where Astarion had told you to meet him.

Any other night it may have been eerie, creeping through the woods unarmed as the moon rose high in the sky. But all you could feel was the anticipation growing, humming in every nerve of your body like someone had struck you with a Witch Bolt.

Your heart nearly stopped as movement caught your eye.

There, emerging from the trees, already shirtless, was the vampire.

You had seen him in various states of undress before - curing wounds of various weapons and spells will do that. But there was something different about it in this circumstance, seeing him perfectly unscathed, strong and confident from the weeks of draining your life from your veins, silver hair and pale skin hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight.

“There you are,” he spoke lowly, striding slowly towards you. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

While the words themselves made you blush, you couldn’t help comment.

“The moment you set eyes on me you had a knife to my throat.”

“Ah,” he sighed, walking slowly around you, bringing his fingers to lightly trail up your arm. “But if you remember, I did notice then and there what a darling neck you had, I just knew it would be heavenly.”

He closed the distance between you, and you could promptly feel his strong form cold against your back, a prominent bulge pressing into you, and his breath on your neck making you lightheaded.

His hand trailed down your neck to trace the marks he had been leaving nightly. “And I was right.”

Despite how little he had done, you had grown so wound up from the endless fantasies from his nights of feeding that you were already weak in the knees.

His left hand lightly began to caress your thigh, as his right takes to untying the strings of your loose shirt, his mouth never stopping.

“You’ve been so helpful these last few weeks darling, allowing me for the first time to indulge in the blood of a human, giving me strength at your expense. You’ve been so good for me too, holding back all those little sounds you’ve been wanting to make, pretending like you don’t get wet just at the thought of me drinking from you, like you don’t get soaked from the moment my lips touch your neck. Hmm?”

Your breathing was already heavy, your thighs already squeezing together in some attempt for stimulation - it was already too much. All you could do was nod, a breathy “yes” escaping you as your shirt is undone, falling to the forest floor.

His hands begin to explore, lightly tracing up your arms, down your stomach, across your collarbone. “And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you my love? To keep us alive, to keep us all going. You’ve been so helpful to all of us, to me, I think it’s time I take some weight off of those pretty little shoulders.”

Suddenly, forcefully, he spins you around, steadying you by grabbing your hips. You look into the red eyes that gaze at you intently, with an emotion that is so close to something like love, devotion, but feeling just slightly too forced, slightly too uncanny.

That gaze is a problem for another day, you determine, as he sinks to his knees and gazes up at you, untying your trousers.

After all, the love may not be real, but the lust in his eyes sure as hell is.

He makes slow work of the fabric, speaking up at you the entire time.

“Dearest, I intend to do exactly as I promised. I want to repay you for the kindness you’ve given me, the trust you’ve placed in me. Allow me to please you, to make you forget about everything, if only for a night. Will you allow me this?”

You nodded, mutely, as you stepped out of your pants.

He gazed up at you again, eyes drinking you in, darkening as they travel up your body, stopping at between your legs, your chest, your neck.

When his eyes met yours again, he stood up quickly, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a deep kiss.

You had thought about this moment too often.

What he would taste like, how his fangs would feel against your tongue, how his lips would feel against yours. He pulled you into him desperately, and the sensation of your bare chest against his made your head spin, gasping into the kiss as he took full control, kissing you with such a passion that you might have thought there was more to it than a simple need for release, repayment.

He pulled away all too soon, thumb caressing your lower lip as he gazed at you in that absurdly sultry way of his.

“Before I take your breath away,” he breathed out, pausing to kiss your cheek. “I need to know what you want from me darling.” Another pause, a kiss to the jaw now. “Tell me how to please you.” A kiss behind the ear. “Tell me how to make you scream.”

You were barely keeping it together, eyes already fluttering closed.

A sharp bite to the neck, not enough to bleed, but enough to make you gasp, brought you out of it. His red eyes gazed at you intently, awaiting your response.

“I want you to take control,” you speak, feeling as though you’re giving a confession. “I don’t want to think. I want you to drain me of my blood, of my thoughts. Make me cum, make me scream, make me feel so good it hurts, until I’m begging you to stop, Astarion.”

“Oh, darling,” he nearly growled, his hand caressing your cheek. “I'll do just that.”

He spun you again, once again catching you off guard. Within moments, you feel him press up against you again, this time the hardness of his cock being released from his pants, discarded far into the forest you assumed.

“You mustn’t keep a sound from me, by the way,” he spoke lightly. “I’ll know if you do.”

You aren’t allowed much time to consider that as you feel his lips on your neck, pecking and lightly biting and sucking. His hands trail upwards to cup your breasts, slowly, softly, deeply massaging, as though he’s trying to feel every inch of your skin. His fingers lightly pinch and tug against your peaks, and he leaves soft bites on your neck, never enough to break the skin.

It had only been moments, but you’re whining, and you can feel your wetness dripping down your thigh.

“Astarion, please,” you breathe, hand coming up to lace in his hair in an attempt to force him deeper into your neck.

He just laughed. “Darling I’ve barely touched you and you’re begging. Allow me to take my time with you.”

His left hand stays at your breast as his right once again wanders downward, slowly reaching your inner thigh.

“I can smell it, you know,” he muttered lowly in your ear, and you almost squeak, flushed with embarrassment. “Every time you’re so wet you can barely think, stuck in your little fantasies as I drink from you. You do so well, hiding your wants from me, but I’ve always known, and I’ve always wanted to push it further, to let my hand wander between your pretty little legs and feel just how wet for me you are…”

As he takes a pause, his fingers reach your folds, lightly caressing up and down, circling your clit, and you both sigh.

“Astarion…”

“Hells, you want me so badly don’t you?”

“Please.”

“Oh, I’m not here to deny you, angel. I’ll give you everything you want…”

Without warning, two of his slender, delightfully long digits enter you, and you release a moan louder than you expected.

“Very good,” he praised, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace, as he resumed his work on your neck. He continued to suck and bite, no doubt leaving a myriad of bruises and marks that you would have to explain away tomorrow.

He growls again, biting a little harder, though still not hard enough to draw any blood, you notice. His fingers within you speed up, spreading in a way that has you choking out another moan.

“I can hear you thinking, darling. That’s not what we want now, is it?”

“No - fuck, there,” you moan deeper, head tilting back as his fingers reach a place in you that is forever out of your reach.

“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, focusing on that one spot. “Good girl, telling me what you want. Focus on your body, darling, not your thoughts. Feel me against you, feel me in you, feel how badly you need that release.”

“Astarion please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Bite me harder.”

“Oh, not yet my sweet. We have all night for that, and I would quite like to sample the nectar between your thighs before tasting your heavenly blood. But I’ve left such a wonderful piece of work on your neck, now everyone at the camp will know now more than ever that you’re mine.”

“Fuck,” you gasp out, feeling the waves of heat overcome you and your thighs begin to collapse, your release hitting hard and fast at his use of possessive language.

“Very good, darling,” he praised, holding you up as your vision spun. His fingers didn’t cease as you came, immediately riling you back up, moans spilling out of you louder than before. You hadn’t noticed when he had added a third finger, but you felt the stretch as he pushed in, the emptiness when he pulled out.

You needed more, and he was clearly eager to give it to you.

“Lie down, my darling,” he whispered in your ear. “Allow me to worship you further.”

You did so without hesitation, resting back on a relatively flat portion of the forest floor, spreading your legs as Astarion knelt down, bringing your legs up on to his shoulders and staring down hungrily at you.

Despite the ferocity in his eyes, he took his time, kissing from your ankle to your thigh on your left leg, and then your right. The moment you felt your frustration grow to a peak, he bit down, once again leaving marks but never breaking the skin, marking the soft flesh of your thigh.

He teased you for a few moments before the impatience struck him as well, and leaned forward further, licking a long stripe up your folds.

“Oh darling, and I thought your blood was heavenly,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he went to work.

Immediately your hands were in his hair, pulling and pushing in some attempt to regain any sort of sanity in this moment. His tongue worked wonders, knowing exactly how to work inside you before retreating, teasing at your clit, before the vicious cycle repeated. His hands clenched your thighs as though they were a life line, and the moans that left him traveled into the depths of your core.

It didn’t take long, you were already falling over the edge again, now shouting as the pleasure grew blinding.

“I could stay here forever,” you could barely hear him lament, mind fogged. You blinked blearily as you focused on his face that was now above yours, glistening with your release as he grinned ferally, hand briefly coming up to clench at your throat. “But I have more planned for you.”

Despite your exhaustion, you feel the warmth in your core grow, another release of slick as his cock presses up against your folds.

“May I, pet?”

All you can do is moan pathetically, something between “yes” and “please” falling out of you as you weakly nod.

“Darling, you’re a vision,” once again, he strokes your cheek, uncharacteristically loving for the cold vampire. “Completely fucked out, and we haven’t even arrived at the main course.”

With that, you feel him enter you, no resistance give how worked up you are.

You take a moment, joined, as he breathes heavily into your neck and you let out quiet moans, words completely failing you.

“Divine,” he breathes, returning to kiss your neck, the sensitivity of it making you clench around him immediately. “Oh, so divine, darling I could have you for eternity, such a better use of our time than fighting all of these tiresome battles.”

He began to pump in and out of you slowly, your mind spinning from the weight of him on top of you, the sensation of being fucked so deeply, overwhelmed by the afterglow of all that had happened.

And still his words didn’t cease.

“I could keep you forever, a precious little pet, tied to the bed to fuck whenever I wanted. Or perhaps the other way around, I would wait an eternity just for another chance to taste you, to please you. Whatever fantasy you wish darling, we can fulfill it tonight, I swear to you - fuck.”

He picks up the pace as you clench around him yet again, your release not even having a build up, but instead crashing against you like a tsunami. You feel the wetness seep down your thighs, coating where the pair of you connect.

“Ast-ar…” you can barely breathe, and he laughs almost maniacally.

“Very good, darling, just like that. Give in to me. You don’t need a single thought in that head now, focus only on me and let go. You can cum again, you can, for me.”

“Can’t - I can’t…”

“Oh, you can and you will, if you want me to drink from you tonight,” he muttered darkly, and you feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes.

“Astarion.”

“You have to cum again, to get what you want. Just one more time, my darling. One more and you’ll please me so well. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

You muster up the last of the strength you have, words falling from you without control.

“Yes, fuck, yes please, Astarion, please I want to come, I want you to bite me, I need to be yours, I need you ~”

It was almost as though your last orgasm hadn’t ended, with how quickly this one had began. An endless torrent that had the tears breaking, pouring down your face and into the dirt. You nearly choked out a scream, clenching around him so tightly that you feel Astarion tense, cursing wildly as you feel a warmth flood you.

You take a moment, trying with all your might to remember how to breathe, mouth gaping, expecting Astarion to move from you any moment.

Instead you shriek as he thrusts again, hand once again curled around your neck, stopping any chance you had at catching your breath.

“We aren’t done,” he growled, your own slick and his cum leaking out of you as he continued to fuck you, harder now, less restrained that before, nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving you. “We are so far from done, my love. You’re mine, you’re mine.”

Finally, what you had been begging for all night came to pass, and his fangs sunk deep into that claimed spot of your neck. You felt the familiar warmth and euphoria as your blood drained into his hungry mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo and hips moving at an inhumane pace.

And he was right.

You were his, blood and body and mind, it was all his. He had consumed every inch of you.

It was incredible, it was numbing, all you could think about was Astarion. Every molecule of you was on fire, and screamed to be connected to him, to never leave this moment, to stay in an eternity of this torment, but after four orgasms and on the verge of a fifth, with the ecstasy of his fangs in your neck, you simply couldn’t continue.

“Too much,” you manage to croak out, tears streaming down your cheeks and your entire body screaming. Your hands grip the vampire's arms tightly when he doesn’t immediately stop, nails biting into his skin. “Too much, stop!”

Immediately the fangs retract and he’s gently pulling out of you, red eyes wide with a hint of a rare expression on his face.

Fear.

“Darling I’m so sorry, did I take too much? I felt you going limp but, hells you’re so delicious I must have been lost in it-”

You shook your head quickly, placing a hand on his chest as you tried to collect your thoughts, tears still streaming.

“No, no, no,” you breathe out, still gasping. “Not the blood, you’re alright. It was too much, I really can’t cum again, it's too much. Too much good, I promise.”

The fear melted away to a more familiar expression, a smug smirk.

“Oh darling,” he purred, hand trailing up and down your inner thigh in a soothing but teasing manner. “I don’t know about that, you can still manage full sentences. Clearly too much brain power left…and I could go all night.”

“Astarion.”

A rare, genuine chuckle left the man as he began softly stroking your arm and playing with your hair, easing you down from your intense high.

When your breathing leveled out, he began to stand up, and you nearly whined.

Sensing your distress, he waved lightly. “I’ll be but a moment.”

He sauntered away, and you laid back, taking the moment to look up at the stars, basking in the glow of the orgasms and the moon.

He really had done his job, you had to admit to yourself. You were struggling to form a coherent thought.

When he returned, he had clothed himself, and had a small cloth in his hand. Striding over to you he gently knelt down yet again, running it over the blood stains on your neck, the mess between your thighs.

You stared at him, and he caught your look of surprise.

“What?” he asked, an affronted tone. “I know how to treat my lovers, darling.”

“Hmm,” you chuckle, closing your eyes. “Just a softie, I knew it.”

“Hardly,” he huffed, chucking the cloth off to who knows where and pulling you up against his chest.

He began to play with your fingers, lightly tracing the veins in your hands and up your arms. The pair of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, no words passing between you, but a silent understanding growing.

“We ought to go back to the camp,” Astarion eventually broke the peace, smirking at your disappointed expression. His arms encircled you once again, and you tried not to dwell on how good it felt. “Despite your rather loud vocals, I believe the others didn’t hear us, and unless you’d like to explain to them why you aren’t walking properly tomorrow…”

You snort, pushing him off of you. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, my darling.”

One thing was certain, you noted as you returned to your bedroll, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon.

You’ll need extra healing from Shadowheart in the morning.

Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!

#fawktober2023 #kinktober2023 #x reader smut #x reader #astarion #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

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reiderwriter · 5 months

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hi! I just wanted to say I think your writing is so good and you seem like a lovely person 🥰 I’m hoping to request a post prison Spencer smut. Basically it’s when he’s just been released and he’s so touch starved and possessive over you? I’m such a sucker for prison Reid I can’t 😅

A/N: Nothing hotter than a man who looks like he has been through hell, and dear GOD, is post-Prison Spencer DELECTABLE. Thank you for your request!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni. Penetrative sex, creampie, slight dom/sub themes, use of pet names, spoilers for s12 of Criminal Minds, mentions of prison, mentions of blood/ wounds and injuries sustained in prison.

The seconds ticked down as you waited for the key to be pushed into the lock, the door to swing open and for your life to be put back together. 84 days and you were on edge, almost three months without him.

Your leg shook as you waited, heard the footsteps coming up the hall. You stood, wiping the sweat off your hands and taking a deep breath.

You hadn't been allowed to visit Spencer in prison, his teammates taking priority as they worked to keep him safe, to get him out. You hadn't seen him in three months, though you'd moved yourself into his house to be able to wrap yourself in his scent, haunt yourself with his presence.

He wasn't a ghost anymore, as he opened the door and you found your eyes on Spencer Reid for the first time in too long.

“Spencer,” you voice was pathetically small, as if you didn't trust him to be real anymore. You supposed that was probably justified. Your entire body was on edge as you looked him up and down.

Before, he'd keep himself clean shaved, but you found yourself greatly appreciative of the stubble framing his face. He'd never been the best at taking care of his hair, and now it looked perfectly ready for you to run your hands through. His clothes were still messy and by god did you want to grab the lapels of his jacket and pull him back into you.

“You're still here,” his voice was nearly as weak as your own, as if he'd not used it for nearly as much as it should've been used. “I know they said you were but… god I'm so happy you're still here.”

He took a step closer to you and pulled you towards him. You weren't used to Spencer initiating physical contact like this, his hands strong and certain on your hips as he grabbed you, one hand coming up to the back of your head to cradle it and push you further into him.

You melted into the touch, finally feeling warm after the coldest spring of your life.

“You can't get rid of me that easily, Spencer.”

“Good,” he said, tilting your head up and not hesitating even one beat before he pushed his lips against yours. His grip was hot as you let out a soft moan into his mouth, taken aback by his sudden affection.

Before prison, you'd been quietly intimate. A soft kiss here and there, and some awkward and tender sex. While you didn't mind your earlier boundaries, you certainly weren't mourning them now, gripping his shirt tighter as his tongue began exploring you. You'd been happy just to be in his presence before, but now you needed to be so close that you could no longer find where his body stopped and yours started.

When you lifted your leg, he instantly took your hint and pulled you up, holding you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Not breaking from your kiss for longer than a breath, he dropped everything to carry you back to the bedroom.

“84 days.” You gasped between kisses as he dropped you on the bed, falling down with you as he moved his attention to your neck, your chest, your bared throat.

A growl was all the reply he had to that, knowing instantly what you were talking about, but needing to feel you more, to pull comfort from the warmth of your body.

“84 days and I thought with each of them that I would never do it again. You're never leaving me again, I wouldn't survive. I'd refuse.”

“84 days, 7 hours, 23 minutes. Every lone moment thinking about this and you, and being here again,” he said, pulling back again to stare directly at your bared soul.

“I need to feel you now, Y/N. Please, be a good girl and let me.”

If you could will your own clothes away, you would've at that moment, already aware of the mounting pleasure pooling between your legs.

Instead, Spencer handled it for you, tearing where he couldn't unbutton fast enough, divesting you of shirt and skirt and beginning to work your underwear slowly down your legs. At the same time, you pushed yourself up, scrambling to unbutton his own shirt, moaning in frustration as you struggled to get it pushed off his shoulders.

“Spencer, clothes off, now,” you begged, and he finally paused for a second.

“I'm different. Not a lot, but there are some…wounds. Don't be alarmed.”

“Spencer, if you think a few cuts and bruises are going to dampen the absolute desire I have burning for you, you are dumber than I thought.” Taking his momentary surprise to your advantage, you pushed him up and straddled his lap, sitting together with him as you rid him of his clothes.

You traced hands over every ridge of his skin, trying to document every change and appreciate every line. Tracing your way downward, you let your hand disappear into his lap as you looked up at him again, catching his eye as your fingers unbuttoned his pants.

His hand stroked lazily across your cunt but his eyes locked with yours and you found yourself aching with a need for him.

Before, he'd been thorough about foreplay, making sure you were absolutely ready for him, ensuring your pleasure and bringing you to climax before he even palmed himself through his pants.

It was generous, and everything you didn't want right now. You needed him to get everything he'd missed, needed to see him relaxed, pleasured, sunk deep inside of you and losing himself with each stroke.

You softly pressed a kiss to his lips, releasing him from his pants. A few strokes was enough to have him at full mast, and in another moment you were pushing yourself up on your knees and sinking back down.

Three months and you'd almost forgotten how perfectly he filled you, steadying yourself with hands on his shoulders as you bit back a whorish moan.

“Good girl, just like I remember…” his words came out slurred, as of he were drunk on the feeling of you, intoxicated as you began rocking your hips up and down his length.

“I'm better than you remembered,” you mumbled, stroking the small soft curls at the base of his neck. It was ridiculous being jealous of your past self, but god did you want to grab the you of January and shake her within an inch of her life.

You'd tell her to grab Spencer Reid and never let him go, to make him spend his entire life filling you up, to pleasure him until he hadn't a single thought of going anywhere.

You kept up your pace, riding him at an even pace, making sure to lower yourself down as far as you could manage without becoming a moaning mess, but soon the pleasure became overwhelming.

Spencer kept one hand working over your clit, and you had to resist falling apart in his hands, determined to pleasure him before you thought of taking that same ecstasy for yourself.

“It's okay, Y/N, you can let go. I know how long you've waited for this,” his words were soft but his tone was demanding, ordering you to cum on his cock. He lifted his hips slightly, grabbing your hips in his hand as he took charge of the pace and strength of your thrusts, going harder and faster than you'd been able to manage.

You loathed to give up control, bit your body betrayed you, thighs shaking as you gave into his wishes, cumt clenching around him as you rode out your orgasm.

“That's it, nice and tight for me.” He grunted the words into your ear as he really took control. Tipping you until you were again flat on your back, he lifted his hips up and let his pace speed up, rutting into you deeply as he breathed in your scent, head buried in your hair, arms tight around your waist.

You moaned for him, knowing he loved every sound that passed your lips, knowing that he craved the knowledge of your pleasure.

He, too, didn't hold back. His voice filled your ear, filling your brain with every fantasy, every memory of you that had kept him alive for 84 days of hell.

Each story was lustier than the last, your mouth dropping open in a moan as you, too, imagined him in each of the scenarios he'd spent time on in prison.

You across his desk, his head between your legs in the morning, you in his cell, him inside you in public, the red scratches your nails dragged against his skin that had been commented on in the showers.

You'd guided his through 84 days of hell, and you were finally embracing him on the other side.

“Y/N, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna- shit.”

To your surprise, he didn't pull out as he usually would, but instead slammed himself deeper as he began releasing string after string of his sperm into you.

“Shit. I'm sorry I should've asked if that was…”

“I don't care. Just next time, make sure you do that again.” The feeling of his cum inside you was enough to push your body over the edge once again, and you panted as the aftershocks continued milking his cock.

“I missed you.” He whispered, pushing a few stray hairs behind your ear as he stared at you with all the love in the world.

“I missed you more.” You whispered back, and you meant it.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #reiderslibrary #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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familyvideostevie · 18 days

Text

time you will not spend alone

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni romance at the end of the world is this: flowers, lazy nights in bed after long days, and savoring every moment | or, joel makes you something. jackson!joel au, fem!reader, fluff, maybe a bit cheesy but idgaf, ellie cameo cause i can't do a damn thing without her, tommy gets some page time here too, smut (riding, unprotected p in v sex, some finger sucking lol), tenderness, gift giving | 5.7k a/n: i think this is the last part of the just and just as series for the foreseeable future. thank you for reading about this little au and these two lovebirds! i adore them. thank you @frannyzooey and @macfrog for your eyes and support on this. and thank you everyone else for being patient. <3

Spring sweeps into the valley seemingly overnight. The peaks remain snow-capped but the bare branches of trees between the evergreens begin to bud. Chilly mornings lose their bite and frost turns to dew and every day there is more light.

You've always thought Jackson looks its best in winter, but it's a damn sight to see as life and color return. And the latter is your favorite part -- the rolling hills outside the walls and the forest patrol paths are dotted and then overflowing with flowers.

It makes you feel more alive. Patrol isn't a freezing ordeal anymore -- it's an opportunity to see the remaining beauty in the world.

Today's shift is short and easy but you find yourself lingering, running your hands through pine needles and turning your face to the sun. Your horse is happy to munch on a patch of grass in a clearing just off the main trail, but your patrol partner is less than impressed.

"Are you serious?" Ellie moans. "You're stopping again? What the fuuuuuuuuck."

She sags in the saddle. The pout on her lips makes her look like a kid sent to bed without supper rather than an almost-twenty-year-old forced to spend some extra minutes in the fresh air. Shimmer has no problem chewing on some weeds despite her rider's moaning.

"Let me enjoy the sun," you say. "When you get older you'll appreciate the little things, too."

You hop off your horse and Ellie sighs loudly.

"Jesus, you're not that old," she mutters. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

You sweep your arms around you, gesturing at the meadow. "These flowers are nice," you tell her, pointedly. She adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to pick some and bring them home."

She snorts. "Oh, is Joel suddenly into flowers?"

You ignore her bait and crouch, gaze sweeping over the array of colors in front of you. You tried to learn the names of flowers years ago when you found a book on them in an old bookstore but they never stuck. Purples, pinks, and yellows, large petals and small ones, delicate yet hardy to survive the world past its end.

Joel isn't a fussy man. Young fathers don't get to be, and anyone alive these days sheds that impulse just as quickly. He's happy to wake up every day with you by his side, his kid in the garage out back and walls around everything he loves, keeping it all safe.

It makes it both easy and hard to please him -- you want to give him everything but he seems to want nothing. A perfect paradox, a puzzle to solve.

God, you love him. You love spring, you love Joel. Everything feels good.

So, you start to gather stems, snapping them at their bases, humming as you work.

"How do you choose which ones to pick?"

"Fuck," you gasp, careening forward onto one palm and looking over your shoulder. Ellie is off her horse and much closer than before, standing directly behind you. "Jesus, you're stealthy."

She shrugs, her smirk a pleased slash across her face. "You're oblivious as fuck."

You roll your eyes at her.

"Seriously," Ellie says, crossing her arms. She jerks her chin at the small bouquet you've got in one hand. "How do you make it look so nice?"

"Oh, so we've moved on from the making-fun-of-me part of this?"

She crouches next to you, elbows on her knees.

"I, uh -- " Her cheeks go pink, freckles standing out against her blush. "Dina likes flowers."

You bump her shoulder with yours. "I'm going to be so nice and not tease you."

"Fuck off," she scoffs, tucking her smile into her shoulder.

It's quick work. Ellie follows your lead, balances out the blooms she picks with some leafy weeds. She ties them together with one of the minimum four spare hairbands she has on her person at all times -- bits of cloth, occasionally a rare unused elastic from before if she's found some on patrol.

"Isn't it kinda shitty?" she muses, nimble fingers turning her bouquet this way and that to admire it. "We're killing them. The flowers, I mean."

"Little late to have a conscience about killing," you say lightly. The two rabbits she pulled from Jackson snares hang from her saddle. You've seen her in action, too -- gun raised, hands steady, blood splattered across her cheek. It's not an accusation, far from it. Violence is a language you both speak, one she's known for most of her still-short life.

She rolls her eyes, every bit a teenager. "Whatever."

You sigh. "You're right, though," you say. "There were whole shops dedicated to this before. Selling flowers, making bouquets and centerpieces and all that shit."

She probably knows this, but she lets you describe it. Ellie soaks up bits of the old world like it will materialize before her if she listens hard enough. Joel says it was much worse when she was younger, right after they settled into Jackson. She wanted details about everything and watched every movie she could get her hands on. You think she was satisfying her curiosity, sure, but also that she was trying to understand him better -- but didn't know how to say so.

"Weird," she mutters. "And you just...bought them for other people?"

"Or yourself." You pat her shoulder and stand. Your horse tries to nibble on your flowers before you haul yourself back in the saddle. "It was just a nice thing to do, I guess."

"Killing something to make someone else happy," Ellie says with a dry laugh. She tucks her bouquet in the crook of her arm once she's back in the saddle. "I guess everyone does that these days."

It's absurd when she puts it that way, but it's true. You've all got blood on your hands. You would kill for this girl, for Joel, for pretty much anyone in Jackson. And you have.

The flowers are for Joel, they're for your house, they're for you. Something beautiful to bring home alongside your dirt stains and scarred hands, your haunted eyes and nightmares. No one is spared those.

It's only mid-morning by the time you get back to the wall. You and Ellie left at dawn, short sticks drawn for the early shift. She leaves you in the stables with a mock salute and a shout of thanks, practically jogging to Dina's to give her the flowers.

You're untacking your horse when you hear familiar laughter, a deep chuckle and Ellie's faint indignant protest.

"Mornin'," Joel says from behind you. "Was hopin' to catch you at the gate."

"Can you hold these?"

You blindly extend the hand with the flowers. His fingers carefully extract the bouquet and you return to brushing out your horse.

"Does this have somethin' to do with Ellie runnin' out of her with flowers of her own?"

"Never let anyone say you're unobservant, Joel Miller."

He snickers. You leave your horse with a final pat on the neck and thanks for a job well done.

When you face Joel, he looks tired -- he's been pulling extra long days replacing windows and roof tiles after the winter's damage. God knows that man never seems fully rested, but it's a little worse when the seasons change.

He's told you time and time again that standing two stories off the ground is a hell of a lot safer than fighting some Infected on patrol, but you still worry. Just like you know he worries about you beyond the walls, how he's a little tenser whenever you're not in sight, whenever he hasn't seen Ellie for a few days ‘cause they're both busy. It's just how he loves. It's how you both love.

You make no move to take the flowers from him, instead brushing some sawdust from his shoulder.

"Did you have a job already?" you ask.

"Small one. Fixin' a crooked over mailbox." He looks pointedly at his full fist. "You gonna explain now?"

"They're for you."

Joel blinks once, twice, brows furrowing like you're speaking a different language. Maybe a few years ago you'd start to feel self-conscious, unsure of your romantic gesture and insecure in his reaction. But now, as fully in love and connected to this man as you are, you lean in.

"If you're too manly to carry flowers through town --"

You make to take them from him but he snaps out of his daze and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest in a smooth motion.

He also holds the bouquet in the air and out of reach.

"Hey, now," he says. "Hands off. These ain't your flowers."

"I picked 'em," you remind him, poking him in the ribs for good measure.

He flinches just a little but doesn't move. His embrace is warm and familiar and you sink into it. "Gettin' romantic," he mutters and brings the flowers back down to eye level to examine them.

"I'm just trying to catch up to you," you say into his jacket. He huffs and his palm rubs a slow line up and down your arm.

You wiggle out of his embrace to shoulder your pack.

"I am pretty romantic," he muses.

It's true. Even if he's joking and even if no one but you gets to see it, Joel has always made sure you feel loved. Courtship and romance look different these days, but it still comes naturally to him -- loving. Dinner dates, jewelry, and trips to the airport have become a battered paperback, a sharpened knife, and bloody knuckles, but it rings just as true. He loves you and he loves his family the best way he knows how – by keeping you all safe.

And you do your best to convey the same thing. You tell him, of course, but you also mend his shirts and chop wood when his back is acting up, and you look after his kid like she's your own.

Joel deserves to know that he can receive all that he gives, too – the protection, the tenderness, the beauty. Moments of softness and rest where he knows he’s taken care of, thought of, that he matters beyond the things he can do for everyone else.

So, you also do things like bring him flowers.

Sometimes you feel like it will never be enough. You will never have enough time to show him how much he means to you, how he's saved you, how important and cherished and loved he is. How good he is.

Joel reaches for your face with his free hand. He traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb and smirks when you inhale sharply. Another patrol returns and the stables are suddenly louder and more crowded than before. If you're both free for the rest of the day, you want to drag him up to your bedroom and spend the hours there. You want to show him, for the millionth time, how much you love him.

"Okay, Mr. Pretty Romantic," you say, grabbing his hand and tangling your fingers together. "Let's go home."

___

Joel is hiding something from you.

The flowers last for a week and you watch him eye them and smile every time he enters the kitchen.

But after they droop and go in the compost pile, something shifts. Something subtle, sure, but you spend most of your waking hours looking for or at Joel, so you notice.

He starts keeping his workshop door closed. Normally you'll sit and watch him work, or he'll teach you a few chords here and there on the guitars he's making, but your lessons move to the porch and the upstairs hallway loses the scent of wood glue and stain.

In fact, he actively steers you away from the room altogether. He's all just needs a deep clean and it's messy, is all. It's not rocket science -- he's making something for you, clearly. But giving him a hard time is too fun to pass up.

One night, you and Ellie wait at the bottom of the stairs. There's a dinner and movie night in the old church and you're taking the opportunity to make it a family outing.

"You coming?" you holler up the stairs. You hear the door creak open.

"Gimme a second," he calls back down.

"Jesus," you mutter. You tap the side of Ellie’s sneaker with your boot. "You know anything about that?"

Honesty is important between all of you, but you know Joel and Ellie need to have their secrets. There is too much tangled history between them for you to understand it all. It's important to you that they have a relationship all their own, even if it means they scheme.

Ellie is examining her switchblade with intense focus. "I might," she says with a smirk. "He's a lovesick loser, I'll tell you that."

You lean on the banister and raise your eyebrows. "Do you remember when you asked me how to embroider so you could put Dina's name on her jacket?"

The knife swings closed with a snick and she rolls her eyes at you, cheeks pink.

"Shit, dude," she says. "Why do I tell you anything?"

"She liked the flowers, though, didn't she?"

Ellie crosses her arms and smiles at whatever memory she's seeing in her mind. "Yeah," she says. "She did. Jesse gave me so much shit, though --"

The door upstairs closes and Joel's heavy footfalls cut her off.

"Finally," you grumble. He trods down the stairs, arms half in his jacket when he catches sight of the two of you. "Are you hiding state secrets in there?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie asks.

"Might be," is all he says. He's got that twinkle in his eye that means mischief but he looks proud of himself. You can let him have this, whatever this is. You trust him and you'll find out eventually.

"Alright," you say, pushing off the banister and heading for the door. "You're going to breathe toxic fumes with the door closed."

"No, seriously," Ellie says. "What kind of secrets would a state be keeping?"

"Ain't nothin' toxic in there," he says lightly. He bumps Ellie's shoulder with his. "C'mon."

She throws her hands up in the air. "You know, it's shitty when you ignore me."

"Did you hear somethin'?" Joel says to you.

You shake your head, swallowing your laughter. "No," you say. "Nothing."

"Assholes." She pushes past you and down the steps onto the street. "I'm going to make sure there are no mashed potatoes left when you get there."

You don't mind letting Joel do whatever he's up to in all of his spare moments. It does mean you have more time to yourself, so you pick up some extra wall shifts.

And when one of those shifts is with Tommy? Well, you can't help but needle him a little bit about it all.

"Do you know what your brother is up to?" you ask him.

The wind today carries some lingering winter bite, so you've got the collar of your coat pulled up around your ears. Tommy’s hair whips around his face when he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Gonna have to be more specific," he says. "My brother is always up to some shit."

"I think he'd say the same thing about you."

Tommy laughs. He's got the reputation for being the more easy-going of the Millers, but you know he's more a match for Joel than most think. Out in the world, they work as one, silent and deadly, always in step when it counts. They still speak a language all their own with just a look and you see so much of them in each other when you pay attention.

"Well, I learned it all from him," he says. He adjusts his grip on the rifle and sighs. "I happen to know what you're talkin' 'bout, though."

"Is he just telling everyone but me?"

"Nah," Tommy scoffs. "Asked me and Ellie for help, s'all. And you know he tells that girl everythin'."

You both smile for a moment at your fondness for them.

Tommy clears his throat. "Does it bother you? Him keepin' a secret?"

You know Tommy won't let your answer get back to Joel. He's asking as your friend, as your kind-of brother. He's asking because he cares.

A patrol crests the hill, green flag waving in the air. They whistle and shout for the gate to be opened.

You step closer to Tommy so he can hear you. "No," you say. "I just like to gossip."

"Don't I know it," he chuckles. "You two are the eyes and ears of this damn town. Knowin' everything."

"Except what happens in my own home," you tease.

He shrugs. "You'll like it, if that helps," he adds.

"I know I will."

You look out at the world beyond the wall and smile to yourself.

Joel has made you a few things over the years. He works wonders with his hands all the time: Beautiful, intricate carvings for the house, for Ellie, for new babies in town. The wall of guitars, not to mention the ones he's made for kids to learn on in school. You're better at sewing than he is, but he's pretty damn good – fixing up pillowcases and blankets and clothes of all kinds. Joel is a craftsman.

Hands that hold you can also pull a trigger, punch until there's nothing left, and craft a work of art.

And he knows you. He pays attention -- there is a reason behind everything he does. If he's making you something, you know you'll love it.

"Strange, ain’t it?" Tommy says. You turn to him, a question on your face. "World ended and here we all are, happy. Makin' shit for each other. Gosspin'."

You sigh. “Took a lot to get here.”

“Damn right,” he says with a long whistle. “Lotta shit behind us.”

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask.

Tommy considers your words. You two talk plenty, but you’ve never really spoken about the past. Joel tells you whatever you want to hear about the years before you knew him, so you’ve got a pretty good picture of their lives after the outbreak.

"Can I tell you somethin’?” Tommy asks. You nod. "Alright. I – I never thought I'd see my brother this happy again. And I wish every damn day that Sarah was here to see it. To know him this way, to meet Maria. To know you and Ellie."

Joel has said the same thing before and it’s an honor greater than you can ever explain.

"When I saw him and that girl a few years ago, I thought --" Tommy clears his throat. "I thought maybe he’d made it through all the shit we did. And I was right. She brought him through it. And now he’s here, doin’ stable life shit we dreamed about before."

"Ellie is a force," you say, a little surprised to find your voice watery. The love between Ellie and Joel is fierce and powerful, evident to anyone who witnesses it. They would do anything for each other, even though they're mending.

"She is," he says. "And so are you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this. Point is – seein' him love you, too, shows me he’s through it. He's alive again, you know? And I’d do all the shit we did over again just to get us all here. So, no. I don’t regret it."

It’s nothing you haven’t thought before, but the words work their way into your heart and sit there, heavy and warm.

“Damn,” you say. You swallow and give him a wide smile. "If you keep going, Tommy Miller, I will start crying and that would embarrass us both."

He laughs and blinks a few times. You join in, wiping your eyes.

"Alright, I won't," he says. "Jesus, all you did was ask what he's doin' in that workshop."

You clap him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you started blubbering on duty."

He snorts. "Ain't that generous of you.”

Days pass. A week. You almost forget about Joel's project because he spends less and less time in the workshop and more on tasks around town as the days get longer. You're both busy -- chopping wood, planting bulbs for the fall, helping de-shed the horses. There's always work to be done.

After a particularly long day on your feet, you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find he's gotten home while you were in the shower.

"Hey, stranger," you say. You're mostly dry but some water drips down your back and you shiver. Joel is leaning against the headboard on top of the sheets without his shirt, reading whatever book he's onto now.

"Didn't hear me come in?" he asks. He sets his volume aside and pulls off his glasses.

"I was too busy coming back to life under some hot water." He probably heard you singing off-key to some long-lost song stuck in your head for the millionth time. "And you're quiet as hell, Joel."

He shrugs.

You just look at each other, the intimate gaze of two people who know every inch of each other and never tire of it.

The sleep pants he wears to bed this time of year are lightweight, thin enough that you can see the outline of him from here. His stomach is soft where he's bent at the waist and the trail of hair above his waistband is dark, darker than the rest of what's on his chest.

The golden expanse of his skin just begs to be touched, so you make your way over to him in your towel. He makes room for you to perch on the edge of the bed, the bare skin of your thigh pressing into his pants. His palm rests on your knee.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," you say softly. "’Cause of that damn thing you're working on."

His fingers press into your skin.

"Ain't patience a virtue, or something like that?"

"Whatever magic you're working better be worth waiting for," you tease.

Joel's hand resumes its path up your leg and he smirks.

"I can work some magic right now," he says.

You laugh, throwing your head back as his fingertips edge under the towel.

"That was awful," you say. "I should get dressed in all of my layers right now and go sleep on the couch."

You pull away from his touch so you can straddle him, your towel only held on by one hand at your breasts.

Joel snickers. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."

Nimble fingers find your cunt between your spread legs and you gasp a laugh, one hand on his shoulder to balance you in his lap.

"Smooth," you manage. His other hand tugs on the towel and you release it, your slightly damp skin breaking out into goosebumps in the air of the bedroom.

Joel drags his lips between your breasts and you feel his smile.

"Christ," he says. "You comin' outta there in just a towel and you expect me to go to sleep?"

He pulls his fingers from you and frames your face with both hands to drag it down to his in a lazy, thorough kiss, like he's savoring each moment.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you let him in readily, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grind down on the hardness you can feel through his pants.

"I've missed you," you say, dragging your tongue along down his jaw. His fingertips press into your bare hips hard enough to bruise, but it's a grounding touch rather than an urgent one. You want to take your time because you have missed him, and you think he feels the same way.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Joel groans, dragging your lips back to his. "It'll be worth it."

You pull back to look him in the eyes. The hazel-grey is almost totally taken over by his pupil, but his gaze softens when you cup his cheek and smile.

"I know," you say, and mean it. Naked in his lap in your bedroom, you mean it. You always mean it. You always trust him.

Joel kisses you once, twice, and you pull on his lower lip with your teeth when he pulls away. His nostrils flare and before you can tug his cock from his pants, he holds two fingers out to you.

You laugh, circling his wrist and bringing the digits past your lips. You swirl your tongue around them and really take your time with it, laving at his knuckles before releasing them with a pop.

His cock twitches beneath you and he huffs.

"You're an easy man to please, Joel Miller," you tell him, tugging down his pants and letting his shaft spring free. You stroke him root to tip and he hisses.

"Nah," he manages. "It's ‘cause it's you."

He follows his words with a circle of your clit from his spit-slick fingers.

"See?" you gasp. "Romantic."

It's a bit crowded, his hand rubbing your clit and yours slowly jerking him, but neither of you rush it. You pant together, dotting lazy kisses on any piece of bare skin you can reach. You breathe him in, the combination of sweat and gun oil and fresh detergent that's just Joel. A rush of tenderness hits you so suddenly your nose stings.

"Joel," you say, a bit ragged. "Joel, can you --"

A gentle hand on your face brings your foreheads together, his eyes on yours.

"Whatever you want," he groans. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

You can't help it -- you laugh. Brightly and happily, almost in disbelief that this man is yours. Real and solid under you right now, beside you every night. Yours to love and cherish and all the rest.

"You laughin' at me?" he grumbles, though you can tell he's fighting a smile.

"I just love you, is all," you say. You probably don't say it enough. You and Joel show each other every day, so much so that you can't imagine he doesn't know. As it is, you feel loved by him with every move he makes, every time he looks in your direction, every time he says your name.

"And I want you to fuck me," you add.

It's Joel's turn to laugh.

"Now who's the romantic one?" he says.

You rise from his lap and settle onto your back on the other side of the bed, stretching with your hands above your head.

His eyes follow the line of your bare body, fondness and hunger recognizable in his gaze.

"Always so damn pretty," he grumbles. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Flirt," you tease.

He rises to his knees and pumps his cock a few times with his fist. You spread your legs for him, knees bent up against your chest.

He settles between your knees and you lock them around his hips. Joel honest-to-god winks at you before dragging two fingers through your folds to make sure you're slick enough.

"Ready?"

You nod. He enters you in one practiced move and you groan in unison as you adjust. It takes some shuffling but he finds a position he can hold, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Joel fucks you slow and deep. Each drag of his cock against your walls curls your toes and drags whines from both of your throats. He keeps up his usual babel -- doin' so good, feel like a dream, so damn tight, cunt's a fuckin' miracle -- and you press your hands into his bare back like he's a life raft.

Sweat beats on your brow, your chest, everywhere, and you suck bruises into his neck as his thrusts get a little frantic. Your own orgasm sneaks up on you, the pressure building and building and building until it snaps without warning.

"Joel -- Joel, fuck, I --"

You clench around him and he chants your name, that's it, baby, come on my cock, and buries himself to the hilt to finish inside you.

He hovers above you on trembling arms long enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips before rolling off of you.

"Now I'm ready for bed," you say, panting.

You fling a hand out lazily and it lands on his chest. He intertwines your fingers and his gaze finds yours. You smile as you get your breathing under control.

Joel smooths your brow with a thumb. "Don't forget to --"

"I know, I know," you say. "C'mon, you know this isn't my first rodeo." You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom.

"You sayin' I'm a bull?" Joel calls after you.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" you holler back, cleaning yourself up. "Didn't people used to say that?"

Joel doesn't answer you but you laugh at your own joke. You make your way back to the bed in old pyjamas and find him back in his sweatpants, feet flat on the floor like he's about to get up and go somewhere.

"Joel?"

He sighs, his shoulders moving up and down like he's bracing himself.

"It's done," he says. "Your surprise."

The confession stops you in your tracks.

"Oh?"

You know Joel better than mosty, but sometimes he's still a puzzle. The hesitation, the slight air of anxiety about him as he says it confuses you. Because Joel is good at taking care of people, and he has to know it -- those years he and Ellie didn't speak you know he left her things, know that he took care of her from afar as much as she would let him. It's just what he does, he uses his hands to beat and shoot and bloody – but also to carve and hold and love.

They're the same thing, really.

And he's made you something – one of countless gifts he's given you, tangible and not, throughout your relationship.

But he's nervous. As if you wouldn't love anything he made, anything he does. As if you're not gone over every part of him.

"Hm," he says. "Yeah. Let me --"

Joel gets up from the bed and pads over to the dresser to rummage around in a drawer. You meet him back on the bed and he's holding a square-ish parcel wrapped in cloth.

You gingerly take it from him.

"This is what you've been working on?" you ask softly. He nods.

You unwrap the cloth and find yourself holding leather-bound journal. The hide is smooth under your fingertips, scraped clean by hand and tanned a dark chestnut.The spine is about an inch wide, the whole thing swen together with neat stitches of what can only be catgut. A thinner strip of leather is wrapped around the cover and tucked into itself carefully. It must have taken him ages to make.

"Joel," you gasp. "It's...god, it's beautiful."

He tells you how he found it on patrol a few weeks ago. The cover was fucked but the paper was somehow fine, so he dried out the pages and rebound it with a hide he tanned himself. You run your hands over it again almost like you can feel his fingerprints all over it, the hours he poured into the pages.

The inside cover falls open easily when you undo the tie and you see letters in the bottom left corner of it. Your eyes sting.

Joel has carefully burned your name into the leather, each letter perfectly lined up with the next. You haven't had something with your name on it in years.

He clears his throat. "Ellie said she'd give you some of her pens. Show you how to refill 'em."

You look up from your gift and find so much love on his face you can hardly stand it. He was inside you not that long ago and somehow this is more intimate. You surge forward into his space and wrap an arm around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

"I don't know what to say," you confess. "Just -- thank you."

He runs his hand along your spine.

"S'nothin'," he says. "Just saw it and thought of you, is all."

You release him and shake your head in disbelief. This man.

"What should I write in it?"

Joel's cheeks darken a little. Of course he's thought of everything.

"Figured you could write about...all this." He waves a hand in the air like that explains anything.

"All what?"

He shrugs one bare shoulder.

"Life," he says. "Jackson. Folks here. Might be nice, havin' the memories."

You scoot closer to him so you're almost in his lap again.

"You want me to write down the gossip?" You mean it as a joke but Joel nods.

"You pay attention," he explains. "Someone's gotta."

You're not much of a writer anymore, haven't had cause to be in twenty years. But you do like to tell stories. You both do.

The pages are soft under your fingertips as you flip through them again. You're going to fill them with stories -- about this town, about Joel and Ellie and Tommy and the people you love. The people you've lost, too. The memories that hurt like bruises, like fresh wounds. But the good stuff, too. The gossip, the love stories, the plants in the yard and the flowers on the trails.

Joel has given you the ability to record your lives.

You reach over him to set the journal on the nightstand before you frame his face with both of your hands.

"I'm going to write pages and pages about you, Joel Miller," you whisper.

He huffs, cheeks warm under your palms. "That's borin'."

You shake your head and lean in until your lips brush and your eyes flutter shut.

"That's the story," you say. "That's my life. This is my life. You are."

“I love you,” he breathes. “So damn much. Y’know that?”

How could you not? You say so and kiss him firmly but without hurry. You’ve got lots of time. You’ve got forever.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 3 months

Text

But do you love me?

a/n this just came out of nowhere. Had a little break and my brain said Azriel. So, I said yes in return.

summary: Azriel and oc having silly conversations before falling asleep. Or more like Azriel dealing with a slight sleep deprived lover.

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It was late, and Azriel was more than thankful that he had a chance to slip away from his family and spend the night on the outskirts of Velaris, tangled up in his lover's embrace. The relationship was fairly new. Azriel had fought his heart and feelings as if it were a battle of survival for a handful of months. He denied the fuzzy feelings until he was blue. He crushed the delicate butterflies every chance that he got. Waiting for you to leave. To come to your senses and realize that he wasn’t worthy of your love.

But you stayed. Stayed and fought back. Not letting him fully push you out. Always showing up. Always remember the little things that Azriel enjoyed. From knitted sweaters to lavender tea. From slightly open windows at night to lemon sugar cookies. You let him set the pace with almost everything. Physical touch was a touchy subject, no pun intended, for the spymaster, so you let him make the first move. Get familiar with what he liked. Yet Azriel was convinced that he was never going to forget the smile on your face when he finally reached to hold your hand after your tenth date. The sky might have been full of stars that night, but your eyes shone brighter then the brightest start in the sky ever could.

Now the spymaster let out a content sigh at the feeling of you pressing against his chest. The hour was rather late, but since both of you had no plans, neither of you cared about it. But it did feel heavenly to finally lay between plush sheets after a long day. Azriel was a step from slipping into blissful sleep when he felt you turning in his embrace. Your palms pressed into his bare chest as you moved to hover over him slightly.

The shadowsinger opened one of his eyes lazily. You were biting your lip. A sign that something was still brewing in your head. Azriel tried to suppress his smile at the sight of you like that, slowly reaching to push some loose strands of hair behind your air.

“Out with it, my love," he muttered softly, watching as your eyes landed on him, instantly sparking way brighter. “This is serious, by the way," you warned him instantly, making Azriel frown slightly. “I never said that it wasn’t. What’s keeping you up?" He shifted his body slightly as well, wanting to have a good look at your face.

You watched him for a heartbeat before muttering, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Azriel stilled for a moment, letting your words sink in. For a moment, he thought that maybe he had heard you wrong, but the determination on your face washed that thought away.

“Yes, sweetheart, I would still love you," he reassured you, but you shook your head, muttering, “No, don’t think about me as in me; think about me as a worm," you added in a serious tone. Azriel bit the inside of his cheek, “Yeah, I think you would make a pretty cute worm." He nodded his head, making sure to keep his face straight.

“What about if I was a dust bunny?", you practically cut into Azriel’s last statement, making the male let out a low chuckle, but since your mind was working faster than Azriel could pull himself to answer, your palms hit his chest in excitement as you muttered, "No, I have a better question; do you think butterflies are intelligent?”.

That sent Azriel into a full-body laugh. He simply couldn’t contain his laugh anymore. It’s not so much that he found it silly and pointless. It’s the way you were determined to get an answer as if it determined the most important part of your life.

“I'm serious, Azriel," you groaned, clearly not as pleased with your boyfriend’s reaction. Azriel nodded his head, still smiling. "Yes, I think they are." You nodded alongside him, "But... Why?”. Azriel bit his lip, trying not to fall into another fit of giggles as he muttered, “Go to sleep, baby." Tugging at your arm, Azriel hoped to get you closer to him once more. But you had other plans and turned to flop down on your back next to him instead. "No, how will I sleep now?", you huffed, raising your hands in frustration.

"Love," Azriel pleaded. It was entertaining to watch you in your slightly sleep-deprived form. Not to mention that it got him thinking about how a night after Rita’s would look if this was how your brain worked when you were tired. “Where do they fit their brain?", You tapped your finger against your forehead, frowning slightly. “Oh, Mother, please," Azriel growled, turning to flop right onto your chest. Aware of his size and weight, but enough to keep you in one place. And most importantly, to keep you close to him. Azriel gently nuzzled against your neck, opting to leave a kiss or two as he went. And was more than happy to feel your hands slowly moving to scratch the back of his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"But..." you muttered after a moment. “Do you love me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. "Yes," Azriel muttered again, pulling back to brush his nose against yours before leaning closer to capture your lips in a kiss. He knew that, for the most part, you had been anxious to date him too. And even if this was all fun and games, Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if, in a way, this was your nagging doubts needing that extra reassurance.

“But do you?", your delicate gaze searched him. Azriel crooked his head to the side. “I just said yes. My answer hasn't changed, love," his fingers gently brushed against your cheek. “But you said it without you knowing..." Your voice died down as you searched for the right words. A slight frown paints your face. “Without what?", Azriel smiled at you, waiting patiently for you to pick up your battle in your head.

“Without the bedazzle," you crinkled your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “A what?", Azriel was left frowning once more. “The umpf," you urged, making tiny expressions with your hands. Azriel let out a low sigh. “You are losing the plot,” He moved one of his arms around your middle, pulling your body closer to him as he turned to lay back on his back. “Go to sleep," he muttered against your ear.

But your peaceful stillness lasted no longer than a heartbeat. “That was mean," you pouted at your boyfriend. "Love", Azriel grunted as you pushed against his chest to sit up. His fingers tried to hold you back, but you batted his hands away. “Naah, now I don't want to sleep facing you," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Trying to keep a serious face even if the look on Azriel’s face was worthy of a chuckle. You watched as he calculated his next answer before muttering,

“Are you about to start your cycle?”, the moment a gasp left your lips, Azriel knew that he shouldn’t have. Both his and Rhys’s mothers had drilled it into their heads that one should never ask females questions regarding their cycles, especially ones that imply their behavior being affected by it.

“Azriel, I will suffocate you in your sleep”, you scrunched up your nose right as Azriel leaned over to tackle you into the plush sheets, once again wrapping you in his warmth. You, however, didn’t give up the fight, wiggling in his embrace. I tried to huff and puff, but soon the sounds turned into laughter. “Stop moving around," Azriel chimed as his fingers danced along your ribcage. “You are squishing me," you wheezed, your eyes filling up with tears. Happy tears. Azriel kissed them away one by one. “Give up the fight, darling," he mussed, “and just go to sleep, please." Azriel chuckled as you tapped against his chest, taking in deep breaths to catch your breath.

“But do you love me?", you bit your lip, trying to suppress yet another chuckle when Azriel dropped his head back with a growl. Exposing his toned neck. Making his ink-covered muscles flex. Before he narrowed his eyes at you. “Yes, yes, and yes," he stated. “Even if you were a worm, a slug, a bird, a boat, or a sticky bun," Azriel listed one thing after another. “I love you now and most definitely will love you in another lifetime." His hazel eyes were full of affection as he spoke. "Screw that," he huffed, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, “I will love you in all the universes, all the worlds." The shadow singer watched as you bit your lip, trying to suppress the wobble in your chin. “Even if you’re a wildflower in the field and I’m the morning breeze passing through, I will still love you”, Azriel’s words were met with a shaky exhale. And then both your legs and arms were messily wrapped around him as you pulled him closer. “Careful, or I will crush you," Azriel chuckled, trying to keep some of his weight off you, but you didn’t seem to mind. “You are the sweetest, most precious male I have ever met," you muttered into his embrace. “Doubt that..." Azriel had begun to object to the fact that you had called him precious, but your finger had found his lips before he could say anything else. “I love you, and to me, you will always be just Azriel," you said, “My Azriel with a heart of gold."

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader

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wonderlandwalker · 4 months

Text

After All These Years | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: You think he no longer cares, and he thinks you're better off without him. But the reaping for the 75th hunger games puts a dent in both of those thoughts

Content Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, insinuations of smut, kissing, once again not proofread

Requested by @rottingpeache: absolutely need to see enemies to lovers with finnick. “I really don’t like you.” “And I really don’t believe you.”

Word Count: 1k

A/N: No clue if this is actually enemies to lovers or just a poor attempt at it. I'm gonna go take a nap now but there is more coming cause the requests sparked something in me again so thank you to everyone who sent them!!

None of you had expected it to happen, how could you? But you've learned by now there is no point in fighting it either. So when you heard Mags’ name being called out and you volunteered in her stead, you suppose it was simply out of habit. In a world like this, the only thing that makes you feel like you are surviving is helping others do the same thing. As you stepped forward you could see the cameras zooming in on your face, trying to capture every expression you were making. You saw the cameras do the same for Finnick. Years of being in an unwelcome spotlight had made his poker face almost unbreakable, but the small furrow of his eyebrows and the twitch in his gallant smile told you everything you needed to know.

It wasn't until the next day that he first spoke to you. Over the years you would see each other, of course, you would talk. But at all the events and all the parties you did nothing more than exchange pleasantries. But now he came out of your peripheral vision and cornered you against the wall behind you with his broad arms.

“What were you thinking, this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done.” His demeanour seemed angry, he seemed serious. But you had no reason to match it, you just wanted to get under his skin like he got under yours.

“Be careful what you say, you might actually be the stupidest thing I’ve done.” you wondered if he remembered, if he remembered the night you had spent together so many years ago, it had been the best night of your life, and you had no idea if he even remembered. If he did, he didn't let it show.

“Did you even think it through? You survived the arena once, and only barely, what makes you think you’ll make it out alive again.” His voice was a low rasp, and if you didn't know better, you'd say he sounded upset. But you knew better, Finnick had shown you his true colours when he started avoiding you, and you did remember that.

“I wasn't thinking, how could I? All I could think about was Mags having to go through it all again, you more than anyone else know she deserves better.” you were looking him in the eyes now, and it took all of your willpower not to melt. “My games weren’t that long ago, I did it then and I’m still here, I can do it again.” He stepped closer to you, eliminating the remaining space between your bodies, his chest against yours, and you could feel his heart skip a beat as he spoke.

“Exactly, I was there, and it damn near broke me too. I was there to piece you back together. But I won’t watch it happen to you again, I can’t let it happen. Because what if I’m not there this time, what if I'm not there to put you back together.” There was a stark contrast between his face and his voice. As you looked at him you saw his eyes soften, and it gave you a glimpse of the Finnick you once knew. But his voice was still filled with anger, and it snapped you back to reality.

“And how would you know what I can and cannot handle.” You were challenging him now, but he had you matched.

“Because I know you. Even if you don’t believe so, I know what youre like, I know how you think. You might believe I forgot, that I ignore you and go on with my life as if nothing happened. But if you were to actually think for one second you would see that I’m simply doing what's best for you, I just want what’s best for you but now you’ve gone and ruined all of it in one day.

You’re at a loss for words, because maybe he was right, maybe you had gone and messed up everything with a single sentence at the reaping. But maybe everything was finally making a turn for the better, because for the first time, he was telling you he cared. And you’re thankful to finally see his thoughts shine through, but you’re overwhelmed too. So you turn around, you turn away from him, wanting to escape the confrontation. Except he’s not letting you go, not this time

“I really don’t care what you think Finnick.” You weren’t sure if you believed your own words, but you needed to get away from him.

“And I really don’t believe you.” You tried shrugging him off again, and you were about to turn away from him when you felt him grab onto your arm and pull you into him. As you looked up you could feel his eyes fixed on yours.

And so you do the only thing you can think of, you do the thing you want most in this moment right here, you kiss him. You tell yourself that consequences be damned, because even if he will hate you for it, even if you’ll regret it later, at least you have this one moment to get yourself through it, at least you didn't let your fears of losing him completely win this time. You kiss him as if everything will be okay, because when you feel his lips start to move in sync with yours, it is.

For a moment you think everything will resolve itself and you and Finnick can live together in a small house near the beach. For a moment you forget how much you hate him for everything he put you through. Because in this moment, if life could be like this moment, you’d forgive him for all of it. And you don't know it yet, but he’s even more scared than you are.

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dollfacefantasy · 14 days

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I want RE6 leon to fuck me until I pass out.

only a little drabble cause i'm having a hard time focusing rn but here you are cause this is real asf <3

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, overstimulation

You weren't sure what it was about tonight, or more specifically, what was up with Leon tonight. The past couple days he'd been clingier with normal, which was totally fine by you. You'd rather have him attached to your side than barely able to speak to you as was the case after a hard mission or a night when he had a bad dream.

But the clingy he'd been over the past couple days wasn't his normal clingy. It wasn't a hand constantly on your waist or swarms of gentle kisses landing at your hair line. A more accurate word to describe this would be need.

He was giving you tons of kisses, but they weren't gentle. They were open mouthed and sloppy up and down the side of your throat. His hands lingered on your body but not in a protective or loving manner. They groped and squeezed. The mere feeling of being so desired gave you the smallest spark of pleasure in your belly, but his desire for you nearly had burnt through an entire fuse.

It came no surprise to you that in the evening, his hands were snaking beneath your clothing, maneuvering your limbs around as if they belonged to a doll.

Needy kisses continued all along your throat and collar bone. Little murmurs of "just wanna feel you, baby" and "need to be inside that sweet little pussy" drifted up to your ears. Your fingers found his hair and gave it a little tug, a switch putting him into a state of no return.

Now his hand was wrapped around your throat. Your legs were bent over his shoulder. He was as deep inside you as physically possible without causing you an injury. You'd cum a few times already, pussy sore and aching but still sucking him like he was essential to your survival.

"Leon, fuck!" you cry out as his shaft continues sliding in and out of you raw, massaging all the pleasure spots that drove you wild.

He groans into the crook of your neck, biting at the skin as a way to not lose it. He didn't really know what was going on either. His stomach was doing flips at every tiny whimper you made, and his heart was locking up each time your walls fluttered around him.

"I know, honey. Just a little more. I'm almost done. I swear," he murmurs thoughtlessly.

The words were simply tools of placation. Another method to keep him safe and secure where he needed to be, balls deep inside of you.

Your back arches as much as it can in this position, and you whine like a desperate animal.

"That's my girl. I know, baby, I know. You're such a good girl, always giving me what I need," he coos in a strained tone.

His hips have a mind of their own, you know this well by now. You can feel them beginning to move like they're possessed. No regard for your pleasure, and in a way, almost no regard for his. They move purely with the drive to claim you. The deep primal part of him that ached to own you.

Your thighs quiver violently and the ability to speak with any sort of coherence is ripped away from you. It's all so much, and it's been so much for however long he's been drilling into you.

The noises coming from where the two of you connect sound throughout the room, wet and lewd. Unbridled and desperate.

You cum again at some point, but he's still fucking going. He's whimpering almost as if he's in pain. From what you can see with you're fading vision, his eyes are screwed shut and his breaths are coming out in ragged puffs.

"Baby, Jesus, I... ah- oh fuck, baby, my baby," he mumbles against your skin.

The bed below you feels as if it's on fire. Your skin burns with absolute overstimulation. Your head feels cased in a foggy container of lust. You aren't sure when it happens, but somewhere in the middle of all this, you pass out.

You're gone for a good ten seconds, head lolled back, eyes vacant, mouth parted and silent.

That's what clues Leon in that something's up. Your passionate mewls for him had abruptly faded to nothing. The hands clawing at his back had dropped away in favor of being limp on the mattress.

He pulls his head back, eyes widening when he sees your incapacitated state. But he can't stop moving his fucking hips. He so can't stop that the words "baby are you ok?" get tangled up into a whiny, humiliating groan that he's happy you most likely won't remember.

As you come to again, he cums inside of you. He throws his head back with a silent moan. Your gaze shows your disorientation but also the pleasure still coursing through you. He fucks that cum into you like it's his mission, and when he's done, you're pretty sure he's the one passed out now.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #inbox 🎀

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princeoftheeternalbog · 3 months

Text

Really sleepy and so like sleeping with you headcannons lets go

I'm not sure half of these are even on the same vibe so uhm like do with that what you will, this is so long and it's atrocious but oh well. Also sorry if its ooc😻

I think maybe one line of suggestive in Franky's and Namis.

I feel like i forgot someone tbh..

Luffy

Sleeps anywhere and everywhere but sleeps better and longer next to you. Thus he is obsessed with sleeping with you and whenever he wants to sleep now you have no choice you must take sleep too. He snores and drools but that's kind of a win because then he doesn't care if you do yk? Loves taking naps with you and it's a way he likes to connect with you. Always kisses you before you sleep and after you wake up. He's so comfortable to lie next to because he's so squishy and he holds you in like every way possible because he doesn't have to worry about circulation being cut off or anything.

Zoro

Again he will sleep literally anywhere. He sleeps like a log but somehow you are the only person able to wake him up, Robin theorises it's his observation haki keeping an eye on you but whatever it is you are Zoros designated alarm clock. However, there is about a 30% chance that when you wake him up, he will just snatch you to cuddle and go back to sleep. You cannot escape his hold and if you keep trying to wake him up he'll just bite you(gently) idk he's feral. Depends on his schedule if he's comfortable or not, usually when he's bulking up he's squishier and it's nice to cushion your head on.

Sanji

Never naps and it's so alarming. How does he survive on like 6 hours everyday we will never know. Anyways he's very clingy when he's sleepy but in like a 'I don't want to bother you so I'll just sit over here looking really forlorn', just take the man to bed. Is somehow so comfy to sleep with it's actually annoying because after a certain point you just can't sleep alone anymore. Always tucks you in if you don't get up at the same time as him and he'll leave little snacks and drinks on your bedside table for when you do wake up. Sanji has a more lean muscly build so it's more comfortable to have him lie on top of you and he is not complaining in the slightest.

Nami

Loves cuddling in the winter, hates it in the summer. She's really sensitive to the temperature yk it's that innate sense of the weather, so when it's hot she is hot. But she really likes being able to touch you, so after a certain point she just forces franky to install(invent) air conditioning and it makes the summer so much more bearable. After this there's no escape, you will be cuddling every night (unless boundaries yk). She always tries to convince you stay in bed in the morning...and it always works. She's very persuasive okay. Lets you use her as a pillow, like her chest or thighs or tummy, she just wants to be next to you.

Usopp

Really shy about sleeping with you the first time. Only the first time. After that well lets just say you created a monster. He's really good at telling when you need a nap, especially when you won't admit it. He just subtly ushers you to a comfy spot and then oh what a surprise your eyes are getting really heavy and hm Usopp wouldn't mind if you leant on him for a bit and then snoreville. He thinks you're so pretty when you're sleeping because you look so peaceful and relaxed, so even if he's not tired he will always agree to a nap. He will carry you to bed. And he's so casual about it too, I guess because you're not like watching him directly so he's just like really chill.

Robin

Actually has a nap schedule with her sleep schedule, she usually takes a very short one after lunch because her power can be quite draining and so once you find this out it's just a big cuddle session which she loves. She tends to keep you to a sleep schedule too but she won't force you if you are really insistent on staying up, but she will say I told you so when you're grumpy and feel sick the next day. So lovely to sleep with, she barely moves, never hogs the blanket, doesn't snore and somehow always stays very cool even in the summer. She also always makes sure you get into bed safely if you're drunk or ill, even if she is too, she really cares about you.

Franky

I won't lie...he builds himself an entire like cushion add-on thing so you can comfortably sleep next to him. He looks like a giant marshmallow man it's so funny. But also it's so cute because he takes your comfort so seriously and he runs multiple tests to make sure it's the absolute comfiest he can be for you. Loves naps but absolutely adores actual bedtime because of the whole like rituals and because he knows he doesn't have to get up in like an hour. Sometimes he will seriously overwork into the night, but on those occasions it's fairly easy to coax him to bed(😚). Also he wears one of those stupid scrooge hats tbh. And yes he says super in his sleep.

Brook

Really insecure about sleeping together because he thinks he'll be uncomfortable to lie next to or cuddle :(. On the other hand, you're also really worried because you don't want to accidentally hurt him while he's asleep, so for the first few months you sleep in beds that are close enough to hold hands instead. Eventually when you both become comfortable with the idea, you end up sleeping together almost every night and you occasionally nap together too. He wears really soft padded pajamas to make sure you're comfy. It's surprisingly more comfy to sleep next to him than you thought it would be.

I won't lie sometimes you do shit yourself waking up and seeing a skeleton.

Jinbei

So responsible, absolutely will stop you from napping if it's too close to bedtime. He knows sleep is important but he also knows a routine is important...and he can't bear watching you sleep alone so if you mess up your schedule then you're messing up his. This also works for if you try to stay up late too, he'll straight up snatch you off the ground and just carry you to bed no matter how much you complain. Really good cuddler, like really good. He always knows how much pressure to use while holding you and when you want more or less contact, knows when you need extra blankets, when you want to sleep in a hammock instead of a bed. He's got a sixth sense for your sleeping habits (read: he's desperately in love with you).

Law

Really grumpy about it. And really shy. Also he's a hypocrite, he'll stay up working till early hours of the morning but if you dare even try he's stood there staring at you like the mf eyes of notre dame. He always wants to cuddle but absolutely despises asking so again he just stares, you can always tell though because his ears go really red. Once you're in the bed though he's suddenly mr suave i will arrange everything, he will literally pick you up to manoeuvre you both into a better sleeping position and doesn't even bat an eye. He will nap but you have to trick him into it, he secretly loves it and lets you do it even when he knows what's happening.

Kidd

Needs like 15 million blankets to sleep. Uses one of said 15 million blankets to wrap you up like a burrito if you refuse to come sleep/nap with him. But actually it kinda does hurt his feelings so you can make up for it by playing with his hair until he falls asleep. Loves napping, he's like an overgrown cat and he'll sleep literally anywhere. But if it's anywhere other than his or yours (or killers) room he somehow? manages? to scowl? in his sleep? Yeah I don't know but it just stops his crew from messing with him because he looks so angry. Like Zoro he will literally just snatch you if you're in his vicinity, like you walk past for two seconds and then suddenly your vision flips and you're just stuck in this iron grip. He won't let you go and the crew just walk past you too.

Killer

You literally don't sleep together until you've been dating for like a fucking year. He really values his privacy and you really respect it which culminates in neither of you asking for such a long time that you both forget its a common couple thing. Until someone asks why you don't sleep together and then you guys are like huh idk and then that's the day you finally do. He's a good cuddler but he's a blanket hogger and you have to braid his hair before bed or it will end up in your mouth. On the plus side, he will make and leave breakfast or coffee (or anything you want) on your bedside table if he wakes up first. Also he always picks the best bedsheets and eventually buys two quilts so you can at least have some blanket when he snatches it all.

Ace

Naturally runs like a furnance and is hell to sleep next to in the summer. But he gets really grumpy if you dont sleep next to him so the crew make you suck it up I'm sorry. Literally you're like clawing at the walls as they throw you in and lock the door. Anyways he's a really good cuddler and so comfy to sleep with, and he always takes naps with his head in your lap. He loves to have you sleep on him too because he loves to look at your face and stroke you hair, idk he likes being slow with you even though he's really energetic. Being naturally sleepy and like a little radiator also tends to make the people around him sleepy so you two are banned from working next to each other because you both just end up napping.

Marco

He doesn't sleep a lot because well he doesn't really need to. But he adores sleeping with you. It's one of his like favourite 'bonding' activities, especially if you haven't been able to be alone for a while, he just loves being that close and the intimacy of sleeping in each others beds. On another note he's obsessed with making your bed really comfy because as a doctor he knows sleep hygiene is important and as a bird...well yk...nest. He's not shy about it but don't tease him because it will hurt his feelings and he won't tell you to save your feelings, beautiful sweet man that he is. LOVES a good nap/cuddle especially in the winter, if you both have spare time he just bundles you both in a big fluffy blanket and just exists with you for a bit.

Izou

He is surprisingly a really undignified sleeper, which is why you don't sleep in the same room for months when you first get together😭. When you finally do, you wake up with his arm in your face, his hair is everywhere, there's a pillow across the room, the blanket is somehow under the bed, you're just like wtf how. And Izou is just (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿◡⁠`⁠). But he gets better over time because his brain becomes more aware of your presence as you become more important to him and then bedtime settles into comfy chaos. Pillows still end up everywhere but he is now your cushion so you don't really care. He doesn't really nap anywhere that's not his room but if you do then he carries you to bed :).

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msgexymunson · 9 months

Text

Forbidden Fruit Part 2

Description: Saying it's been awkward after your experience with Eddie Munson is an understatement. How will you survive a trip together?

A/N: WELL, you liked the first part so much I had to write part 2! Potential for a part 3 and 4 if you guys want it. If you do y'all better reblog ;)

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI or I'll tell a teacher on you, a LOT of angst, hella smut, fluff if you squint, voyeurism, spit play, hair pulling, fem oral receiving, p in v unprotected sex (don't be a dumb dumb) rough sex

4k words

Masterlist Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

It has been two weeks. Two weeks since your sordid encounter with your Dad's best friend. You thought about it every day, every hour. It has embedded itself into your mind like steel wool, an unscratchable itch that you're almost certain will never go away.

You'd only seen Eddie twice in that whole time. That was odd in itself, he only lived across the road. He was usually around every couple of days, even if it was to just have a coffee and a chat with your father. It felt very much like he was trying to make himself scarce.

The first time was barely even a glimpse; he'd been leaving his house as you'd been heading to college, driving there since it was close enough for you to still stay at home. You'd sent him a shy wave which was not returned. He just got in his car and reversed like a demon, tires screeching as he drove down the road.

The second time you were in the kitchen on your tippy toes, trying to reach the cereal that someone had placed on the top shelf as if to spite you. Feeling eyes on you, you looked around and saw him standing in the doorway.

"Eddie."

He ignored it, strode in and grabbed the cereal box with ease, slamming it on the counter in front of you with too much force making you flinch.

You tried again, fingers lightly resting on his arm.

"Eddie, I-"

"Don't." Was all he said, pulling his arm away as if you'd burned him. Tears had stung the corners of your eyes as he left without a look back. You'd abandoned your snack and ran upstairs to your room, to cry in peace.

So it was no surprise at all when you overheard your Dad saying Eddie was coming over to watch the game and it felt like your stomach dropped out from under you. You hid in your room, not wanting to face another gruff encounter whilst your stomach rumbled its dissent.

This is fucking stupid. He'd said that was it, you need to get over it. You shouldn't be scared to go into your own damn kitchen.

Steeling your nerves you go downstairs and start to make yourself a sandwich. You could hear Eddie's laugh echo from the TV room and it twisted a knife in your gut.

Your dad's voice rang out over the noise of the TV.

"You free next weekend Eddie?"

Oh fucking shit. You knew what he was talking about. You pray that Eddie says he's busy.

"Free as a bird, why what's happening?"

"Mandy's invited us to her lake house for the long weekend. You fancy a trip?"

Even from here you can sense Eddie's hesitation.

"Oh, I'm not sure that's a good idea?"

"Why? It'll be fun! I'm sure Mandy's got a thing for you, you know."

"Yeah, sure, I suppose I could come."

Fuck.

********************

Cue the most uncomfortable car ride in your life, squashed in the back seat with Eddie and thankfully a duffel bag in between providing a slight buffer. He was hunched in his seat, barely making eye contact with you.

Your mom turned in the passenger seat to face you.

"You alright Hon? You've hardly said a word."

"I'm fine, mom."

"You know, Jake will probably be there, Mandy's boy?" She waggled her eyebrows at you.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, "he's a little, young for me."

"He's a year older than you! I thought you liked him?"

"He's fine, it's just… he's a boy." And I need a man. One particular man.

You couldn't fail to hear Eddie's snorting laugh that he tried to disguise as a cough.

As you arrive at the lake house, you rush out of the car to breathe air that wasn't laced with the scent of Eddie. Your thighs hurt from squeezing them together for the past two hours.

"Hey! Welcome!" Mandy's waving at you all as you get your bag from the car.

Your mom runs over and gives her a hug.

"Hey! So good to see you! Where's Jake?"

"Oh, he's come down with something, poor boy, he couldn't make it."

Well, there goes the plan you had wistfully thought of to make Eddie jealous.

Mandy shows everyone to their rooms. The lake house is gorgeous. Mandy must have gotten some huge settlement from her divorce. Your room is small but comfortable, a double bed, wardrobe and side tables all in a deep wood. The walls are wood panelled too, carvings of little animals and leaves all over. It puts you in mind of being in an enormous cuckoo clock.

Changing into your swimsuit, you grab a towel and head towards the lake for a swim.

This felt better. At least you could cool off, trying to escape the heat from the sun as well as the heat between your legs. The water is crisp and cold as you swim until you're shivering.

As you exit the water, arms tired, you look up to see Eddie on the deck, watching you.

You need to speak with him, try and clear the air. Moving towards him he stubs the cigarette he'd been smoking out and turns on his heel back to the house.

Anger started to bubble up, acidic in your throat. How dare he give you the most amazing sex of your life and just throw you away like some slut. You'd eaten in your room that night, feigning exhaustion.

Tip toeing out to grab a drink from downstairs thinking everyone had gone to bed, you hear the tinkle of laughter.

There he was, sitting on the couch with Mandy. She was fawning over him pathetically, her hand stroking his arm that rested on the back of the seat.

Great. Just great. Now he'll fuck Mandy and get married and live right opposite you with her. Fantastic.

Grabbing a water you flounced off to bed in a huff.

********************

Sitting up at the breakfast bar, you'd plastered your bravest face on and ate some pancakes, cutting them into little pieces and nibbling like a rabbit.

Eddie sauntered in, saying good morning to everyone, then he was taking a seat on the bar stool opposite you.

"Morning sweetheart."

You flashed angry eyes at him, and looked away, delivering a clipped "morning."

It was enough to shut him up. He filled a plate with pancakes and bacon, picking up a rasher and tearing into it with his teeth. Then he did the same with a pancake, ripping it into four and shoving a piece in his mouth.

He looked like a caveman. It was half amusing, and half a turn on. Watching him eat like an animal was doing something for you.

Mandy looked less amused.

"Um, there is cutlery, right there." She snipped.

"I know." He ignored the knives and forks, picking up the next piece of bacon and plunging it into his mouth. Your mom and dad shared an amused look.

He licked bacon grease off his fingers while looking straight at you, making your cheeks rapidly grow in heat. All you could think was that you wanted to wrestle that piece of bacon out of his mouth with your tongue, to smear your greasy lips together and have him throw you down on the counter top and fuck you until you see stars.

"Just going to get ready." You mumble, excusing yourself.

God damn why am I so wet? A shower, that'll help.

You stand under the stream of slightly too cold water and try to wrench the images away, but they are coming thick and fast.

Greasy fingers running over your skin. That tongue turning you into a whimpering mess. Plates smashing on the floor, food flying everywhere as he lifts you on the counter top and fucks you like an animal. The shower head was looking extremely tempting right now.

Right, get it out of your system, then face the day.

You unclip the shower head and turn the heat up slightly, moving the warm stream of water to your expectant lips. The water makes you gasp as you move the shower head around, finding your clit with a whimper.

And then the door flies open. Eddie stands there, frozen, face blushed the deepest pink.

You shout, "don't you know how to knock??" At the same time Eddie's rather hoarse voice yells "are you trying to kill me??"

Quickly exiting, he slams the door shut.

You hear your father call up to ask what's wrong. Eddie's muffled voice responds.

"Nothing, I just made your daughter jump."

The clipped emphasis on the word daughter rings in your head. You're unsure for whose benefit that was.

Am I trying to kill him? He's the one that barged in on me!! Why the fuck is he upset?

For the rest of the day you ignore him, opting to spend some quality time with your mom, attempting to push the weird encounter out of your head.

In the evening your parents announce they are going into town to a bar with Mandy.

"Eddie, you coming?" Your dad asks.

"No, I'm good, got a headache. Think I'll have an early night."

When everyone leaves you retire to your room, putting on some music and reading a book. You start to drift away, losing yourself in the words, feeling comfortable and less on edge.

There's a soft knock at the door. Ignoring it, you flick to the next page. Another, more insistent knock. Huffing and pulling your silk dressing gown around you, making sure everything important is covered, you shout out.

"Yeah?"

The door opens, and Eddie's standing there, looking very sorry for himself. He's only wearing a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips, muscular frame and tattoos fully displayed.

"Can I come in?"

"So you can knock. What do you want?"

"Look, I want to apologise to you, I've been acting like an asshole."

You nod in agreement, eyes going back to your book, words a blur.

"You really have a headache?"

"No."

"Shame."

"Mandy kissed me last night, invited me back to her room."

Why the fuck is he telling you this?

"Oh yeah? how was she?" You spit back, venom lacing each word.

"I wouldn't know, I didn't go."

Speechless, you return his gaze. He comes into your room, shutting the door behind him, but doesn't move any further.

"Sweetheart, I can't stop thinking about you, about what we did. I've been fucking my fist like a teenager thinking about you. That's why I've been avoiding you. I smelled your perfume the other day and I got fuckin' hard. You weren't even there. It's pathetic."

A small smile creeps onto your face, smug to have had such an effect on him. You sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your hands as he explains further.

"I really want you, but we can't do this. It's so wrong. If your dad finds out I'm a dead man."

"Hey, he'll kill me too!" You respond.

"No sweetheart. He'd be disappointed in you. I'd be blamed for it. For- for defiling his daughter!"

You laugh out loud at that and his lips quirk into a nearly smile.

"You make it sound like you forced yourself on me. I kissed you first."

"True, but I asked. If I hadn't-"

"Eddie, trust me, sooner or later, I would have jumped your bones."

"Really?" He asks, surprised.

"Really. You're super hot." You admit.

His hand rubs the back of his neck compulsively. You see the nerves then, etched into his features, deepening the fine lines on his face.

Just his sheer presence is making your pussy pulse.

He walks over to you, standing over your form. Staring up at him, he looks like he wants to devour you whole.

"We can't do this, you know." He says again, but his hand is reaching to the tie of your dressing gown, pulling it undone. The flimsy fabric parts down your middle, showing a sliver of skin from your chest to your navel.

You nod back, breath hitching in your throat. "Yeah, we really shouldn't."

You let the dressing gown slip over your shoulder, exposing your left side, pert breast on display. Eddie groans.

"This is wrong." But his hand has other plans, sliding the other side off of your shoulder, so you're sitting there completely naked for him, gown pooling around your back.

"Yep. Super wrong. Naughty." You say, legs parting slightly. Eddie's smirk is debaucherous as he sinks to his knees in front of you, pulling your legs even wider.

Preamble forgotten, he forces his head between your legs and licks a fat stripe up your cunt. Throwing your head back at the onslaught of his tongue, you dig your heels into his back, forcing him closer if it were even possible.

"How the fuck," he says between dirty kisses to your clit, "do you taste so fucking good?"

He doesn't seem to want an answer, and you're entirely not in the position to provide one. You just mewl and buck into his face pathetically, lacing your fingers into his hair and gripping on.

His tongue is everywhere, devouring you. It's messy, messier than you ever thought getting head could be. You could feel his spit and your own juices dripping down the crevice of your ass.

Legs quivering, you moan wantonly, gripping onto him with everything you have. He's moaning into you, almost as loud as you were.

Then he's pressing the flat of his tongue against your clit, his firm hands gripping your ass, grinding your body against his face. The pure, unbridled need pouring from him had you toppling over that edge.

"Holy fucking shit, Eddie!"

The intensity and power of your orgasm shocks you to your core, spilling out in a slew of profanities, limbs twitching uncontrollably.

Eddie doesn't stop licking into you until you drag him away by his hair.

Eddie's face is a picture, dripping with slick; his smile is broad, lighting up his face as if he'd just been to heaven and tasted the finest ambrosia.

He leans over you, hooking one finger into your mouth, pulling at your jaw.

"Open."

Your jaw flops open at his command. He spits then, directly into your mouth. Eyes widening in surprise, you taste the savoury edge of his spit intermingled with the sweet tang of your cunt as it slides down your tongue.

"Swallow." He orders, eyes dark.

You close your lips around his finger, swallowing hard and sucking the tip of his finger.

"Fuck you are perfect, my dirty fucking girl." He says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You moan at his words, breath speeding up, feeling dizzy and hot all over.

"You like that don't you? Being a dirty girl?" He smirks.

"I like being yours." You admit, feeling slightly bashful.

He cups your face gently with his hand, a queer look in his eye, before leaning towards your ear and whispering, "mine."

Writhing under him, pinned by his body, you can only whimper as he sinks teeth into your neck.

Pushing a needy tongue in your mouth, he gives you an earth shattering kiss, of salt and cigarettes and sweetness. You reciprocate, hands running over naked flesh as you push your chest against him.

"I need you. Now." He says as he climbs off, frantically pulling his sweatpants off and flinging them to the side, his impressive member standing almost painfully to attention.

You give a startled yelp as he grabs you by the ankles and flips you over.

"Hands and knees for me, my good girl."

You scramble on all fours, waiting for the breach of his tip, when you feel his thumb press on your asshole.

"Fuck, Eddie!" You shout. It had made you jump, but you couldn't deny that you liked it.

"Bet you'd let me fuck you in the ass if I asked sweetheart." Entirely unprepared for that, you whip your head around. He just laughs.

"Don't worry, not tonight baby." He says as he rubs his tip over your folds, spreading your wetness even further.

Then he's pushing and pushing into you, balls deep. You both let out a groan of satisfaction as he starts ploughing into you hard and rough.

"This pussy is fuckin unreal," you hear him mutter behind you, gripping on your hips so tight its bordering on painful. You allow yourself to be used, pushing back into him as much as you can, but it's impossible keeping up with his brutal pace.

Feeling your hands stiff against the bed, your elbows are shaking, on the edge of giving up. You feel Eddie's hand gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail and twist it in his hand, pulling you upright. A lightning bolt shoots down your spine at the animalistic gesture.

He's now hitting that sweet spot inside you on each thrust, the slapping of skin and slick echoing through the room with your pornographic moans.

"Oh God, Eddie, I'm gonna come-"

"No, no please," he slows, letting go of your hair, making you fall to the bed.

"I need to see it, I need to see you. Turn around."

You turn, feeling him slip out of you, and shove him to the side, hard. It takes him entirely by surprise and he falls onto his back, hands up as if he's afraid he did something wrong.

Taking his shock as an opportunity you clamber on his lap, gripping his swollen cock hard at the base, lining him up with your entrance. Eddie's look of surprise turns into a lecherous grin, hands resting on your waist.

Sitting on him, sheathing him once again within your silky walls, you look him in the eye.

"How dare you mess with my orgasm again." Your words are hard, but you're smiling.

He laughs, rubbing at your hips.

"Oh I'm sorry, my poor sweetheart," words positively dripping sarcasm, complete with pouting lower lip. Clenching around his cock, you struggle to even register that him mocking you is such a turn on.

You push at his chest with one hand, and start grinding into him, firm and slow. Eddie looks like he's about to bust already at your movements, eyes darting from your own, to your tits, to your cunt.

"What- what were you thinking of? In the shower?" His words have a quiver to them, a flash of pride bursts across your chest at the fact you're doing this to him, getting him in such a state.

"I was thinking," you say breathlessly, "about tongue wrestling that bit of bacon out of your mouth and you fucking me on the kitchen counter."

"Fuuuck" He replies, eyes rolling back, "you are something else."

All of a sudden it's hitting just right. You don't feel like you'd moved but it's definitely different. Your whole body is buzzing with sensation as you roll your hips against him. Needing to grip onto something, anything, you don't risk changing the angle and instead twine your fingers into your own hair.

"Oh my God, oh fuckfuckfuck!"

Eddie's mouth hangs open as he watches you unravel. You feel your entire body pulse out what may be the best orgasm of your life. It rolls in waves around you, over you, through you. Grinding down hard, you keep it going. And going. Until it stops, or nearly stops. It's as if you are looking down at that edge yet again, on the brink of falling off.

"Fuck Eddie don't you dare move," you struggle out, rubbing over him, juices squelching obscenely with each thrust of your hips. He's beyond words, just biting his lip and nodding.

"Oh fuck I'm gonna come again, oh!"

Screaming into the night, it forces out of you again, almost as powerful as the last one. Your whole body is shaking like a leaf, completely stunned. Realising you're still gripping into your hair, you let go, feeling a sting on your scalp.

"Holy shit." You laugh out, limbs convulsing of their own accord.

"That was, fuck sweetheart, that's the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life."

You smile, fingers stroking up and down his chest.

"Think you can give me one more?" He asks, eyebrows raising.

"Eddie, I don't-"

"Shh, sweetheart, just one more, I'm gonna come, come with me."

You begin to grind, moving against his length once more, clit dragging across slickened hair making you whimper. Your legs are protesting but you want to give it to him.

He helps you, hands on your hips dragging you back and forth, praising every thrust.

"That's it baby."

"Just a little more."

"You can take it."

"My good sweet girl."

Until you release again, together, wetness squirting out of you, voice hoarse with a stuttered moan that seemed to bubble up from deep inside your chest cavity. Eddie groans out, hissing at the feeling as he releases his cum deep into your cunt.

Melting, a puddle of a woman, your body pours over his, bones a distant memory.

"I think my soul left my body for a minute there," you murmur into his sweaty neck. His laugh rumbles from his chest and vibrates into yours, hand resting sweetly on the back of your head.

Both laying there for a minute, you know what needs to happen, but you're loath to admit it. Reality is looming and neither of you want to look it in the eye.

Eddie breaks the spell.

"I need to go sweetheart," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I know." You whisper back. Neither of you move.

"Did you mean it?" You ask, voice as small as you can muster.

"What?"

"That I'm yours?"

You feel Eddie's breath, the silence stretching just a little too much. You stop breathing in anticipation. Finally, he responds.

"Yes. Yes I meant it."

Masterlist

Tag List (If you want to stay on the list, please reblog!)

@hereforshmut @g4ys0n @winchester-angel @eddiemunson95 @corrodedcoffincumslut @shazzie33 @severusswife @daluamaia1 @callsignraver @lightvixxen @newlips @eddiethefreakkmunson @hollster88 @ali-r3n @bebe07011 @roanniom @eddiesprincess86 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #older!eddie #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic

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a-hazbin-reader · 3 months

Note

Hey! Love your stuff! But i kinda notice you mainly do Vox and Al so...

Can you do like....... A husker x child!reader headcanons ? (Platonic ofc)

The old bartender finds a kid completely without adult supervision at a bar (their just drawing ) , goes up to them to find thier guardian only to realise they dont have any?

Husker wants to get rid of them but they ultimately grow on him and they become closer. The kid is sarcastic and they shit on alastor together....

And they draw a mocking pic of the radio demon and stick it onto the fridge of the hotel for everyone to see?

There is a LOT of Vox and Alastor in my inbox but I'm a sucker for Husk so-

Husk X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Unaccompanied minor in places a baby shouldn't be

Description: 👆⬆️

Sometimes Husk just needs a break from being a bartender, wanting to be the one being served

He wants to relax in his free time and just have a moment to himself

Actually starts to let loose when he suddenly feels a tiny hand tugging on his wing

Husk is so confused when he looks down to see a child staring up at him, clutching dirty paper and crayons

"Can you help me up, mister..? The chairs are too high..."

Sets you up on the barstool next to him, still too stunned to really ask why you're even here

He looks at the bartender as they pass him his drink, gesturing to you with a wtf expression

They just shrug as they give you a plastic cup with water in it, obviously used to having you around by that point

Finally snaps out of it once the bartender pushes a plate of food towards you

Don't look at him like that it's perfectly natural to be freaked out by a kid at a bar

You're just kicking your legs and drawing, munching on the food given to you

You shouldn't be in a rowdy place like this, who's supposed to be watching you??

"So uh...does your mommy take you here often?"

"No, does yours?"

Motherfucker you're already spilling your water on yourself-here let him help you-how are you so bad at this???

"Your papa then?"

"No, I don't have any parents but- *insert bartender's name* -is really nice and let's me hang out in here.."

You're breaking his fucking heart, kid

"Oh well...don't mind me then."

"Uh yeah, I won't."

Sarcastic for such a little squirt, aren't you?

His drink suddenly tastes sour and he's no longer in the mood for another, watching you unhappily

Starts seeing you every time he visits the bar, always keeping to yourself and oblivious to the things going on around you

At first, he's annoyed whenever he sees you, reluctantly keeping an eye on you and making sure nobody bothers you

Even if they do, you're so witty for your age that you leave just about everyone gobsmacked by the shit that comes out of your mouth

The whole point of coming where was to relax and instead he's worrying about some kid

Then that annoyance slips away to reluctant fondness as you worm your way into his old heart

He starts to look forward to seeing you and starts bringing little things for you like clothes, toys, coloring books

Listens to you babble about what you do with your days and how you've managed to survive on your own

Not the bartender developing a crush on him for it

Husk doesn't even realize how attached he is until one day he visits the bar and you aren't there, the bartender distracted and upset

You haven't shown up in couple of days

He immediately goes looking for you, frequenting all the places he's heard you mention

Is asking anyone if they've seen you, getting more frantic with each negative answer

Finally finds someone who knows where you are, leading Husk to where you've been hiding out

And now he knows why you haven't shown up

Husk gathers up your shaking, feverish body, hating the fact that you're so sick

"H-Husk..?"

You can barely even open your eyes, he can feel your little body burning up in his arms

"Hey kid..."

He's not leaving you here

He takes you back to the hotel so that you can be properly taken care of, leaning on the others when he doesn't know what to do

Charlie and Vaggie are the biggest helps tbh, they're actually good at caring for people

Alastor is entirely unhelpful except for the fact that he can provide medicine and other supplies

"My my~ Look at what the cat dragged in! Aha!"

"Shut up...you weird strawberry man.."

Even when you're sick you're still a riot

He tries to keep Niffty tf away from you but you think she's funny

He and Angel are your makeshift heaters, so fuzzy and warm that you want to cuddle them all the time

Angel complains the entire time though so you don't really prefer him

Mostly you want Husk with you and he sticks with you until you're feeling better

By then you're well acquainted with everyone at the hotel and they're all quite attached to you

Everyone agrees that you live there now and you get your own room even though you have a habit of sleeping in Husk's

It's okay, Husk looks forward to waking up to your adorable face and doesn't even mind when you kick him in your sleep

You play with Niffty and Angel, learn from Charlie and Vaggie, bother Alastor with your less than flattering renditions of him

You don't like that Alastor is so rude to Husk so you've taken to being a little thorn in his side

Kids pick up on their parent's emotions what can I say

Which Alastor absolutely hates but hides it behind a tight smile, he's surprisingly patient with you

And if those drawings of Alastor on the fridge suddenly go missing?? Husk can always ask you to make him another one

Husk finds himself thinking of you as his kid more and more often, surprised that you ever got this close to his heart

And you yourself slip up a few times and call him dad/papa/daddy/father/pops

You're always a little embarrassed by the chorus of awwws that follow afterwards but you don't really mind it anymore

And neither does he if he's being honest

He struggles sometimes to be a proper caregiver for you but you always seem to just love him more for his flaws

You're too fucking cute

You're definitely his kid

And don't worry Husk lets the bartender know you're safe and brings you to visit them after their shifts

I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I LOVE DADDY!HUSK SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT TOO

#hazbin hotel husk x reader #husk x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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pprodsuga · 2 months

Text

while you were sleeping

summary: jay thinks he loves you best when the two of you are back together in the early hours of the morning.

notes: hi hi! totally messed up on my taglist and didn't realize i couldn't differentiate who wanted to sign up for what taglist. i'm sorry if i tagged you here and you only request my smau - please do let me know if you'd like to be removed and i'll rectify it, no hard feelings or questions asked! x

enjoy this short lil slice of life au

warnings: tooth rotting fluff

add yourself to my taglist !!

masterlist

When Jay looks down at your still figure after he’s awoken, he’s not surprised to see that you’re still sleeping.

It’s endearing, the way your cheek is pressed against the side of his arm and the way your lips form a small pout. He’s impressed at the way the two of you have managed to somehow cling to each other in your slumber. Your hair’s rustled from a good night’s sleep and he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up.

Jay presses a chase kiss to your temple and refrains the urge to laugh at your stone-like figure, opting to swing himself over the bed and get ready for the day. He’s no stranger to late nights and early mornings; his sleeping schedule is far beyond the point of saving and he knows there’s no use staying in bed when he isn’t planning to sleep.

When he emerges from the bathroom, you’re still sleeping in the same position you were when he first woke up. Jay looks at you from the foot of the bed and tilts his head as if he's inspecting you, and he might as well be with his laser focus on the subtle movement of your chest rising and falling against the soft mattress below you.

It’s not every day he gets to wake up with no alarm and with you sleeping beside him. Jay savors days like this where all he worries about is what time to start cooking breakfast to the time when you wake up. But he knows you’ll subconsciously emerge from his bedroom when the smell of the meal he’s preparing begins to echo throughout the dorm rooms. That, he knows for sure.

Like clockwork, Jay pulls the ingredients to make a simple, warm breakfast when he closes his bedroom door shut behind him. Jake is barely awake with Jungwon on the couch in the living room when Jay begins to scroll on his phone for recipe ideas with the ingredients they have in their fridge and pantry after a last minute shopping trip. Neither of the two boys acknowledge Jay’s presence beyond a slow nod, with Jungwon rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with no luck.

Jay’s lucky, in a sense, that jetlag doesn’t affect him too much when he returns home. He’d love to think it’s because he’d rather fight his body to stay awake in order to spend time with you until he’s whisked away on another flight to a different country. Phone calls and texts are frequent between the two of you, but it’s never enough.

Heeseung and Sunghoon join the others on the couch and Jay’s sure he must've woken up Sunoo with the accidental bang of metal bowls. Riki’s the last to emerge, appearing slightly more awake than the rest of his members, but all six of them sit wordlessly around the common area on their phones or watching the television.

The best thing Jay can whip up is a simple American breakfast–pancakes, eggs, and bacon with fresh fruit on the side–from the groceries you had so graciously offered to buy before they returned home. Jay had told you to buy enough to cover one meal for the next morning to survive the massive jetlag all seven of them were about to experience, but you’d gone a step beyond and had replenished their fresh fruits and small desserts as a form of a welcome home gift. It feels comforting to eat strawberries in the comfort of his own home as opposed to tasting it on extravagant cakes in some European city he’ll return to only for work.

“Smells good,” is the only thing Heeseung says before gulping down a large glass of water. His voice is hoarse from the months spent on tour and promotions, and Jay knows how tired the eldest must be if he isn’t willing to crack a joke or two.

Jay takes one look at his bedroom door to see that it’s still closed as he left it. He considers himself wildly lucky to have someone as compassionate and as kind as you in his life; his career path leaves little room for mistakes and the culture around dating as a public figure leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he thinks about the beginning of your relationship. Jay doesn’t enjoy hiding you, nor does he like the fact that he isn’t free to talk about you without a moment’s notice. But you reel him in and you’re the one who reminds Jay that the world doesn’t need to know about your relationship in order for it to be real.

Still, he thinks he asks too much of you when he kisses you in a secluded area of the airport or when he has to rush you backstage before his shows begin.

Jay is sure the fans pick up on his changed behavior. He’s hesitant to hold hands with people he meets unless they ask him to. He ignores fan-made signs with flirtatious comments out of respect for your relationship. It irks him when journalists ask the group about their respective love lives because he can’t talk about you. Jay talks like he knows a thing or two about a thing or two, and he tries to ignore the comments on his livestreams when he converses a little too much about the meaning of love and happiness.

His favorite moments with you are when he gets to walk around the city with a mask on his face and his hand in yours. For just a day, he can be a regular person on the streets of Seoul parading around the love he has for the person he’d love to call his life partner someday. He can make you flush in public and say things in your ear that’ll make you grab his arm just a little tighter. Jay can pretend he’s a normal twenty-year-old-something navigating his first serious relationship with the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

But he also loves it when you get to travel with him and watch him perform from the crowd in a country you’ve always wanted to visit. You always insist on it and he does his best to reserve a spot for you where you’ll be able to experience his concert like the dedicated fan that you are. He loves that you meet him backstage just moments before the encore, too, and he loves when you give him a short kiss before he’s wanted back onstage to say one final goodbye to an adoring crowd that chants his name at any given moment. Jay’s proud of his work and he’s elated to know you’re proud of it too.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears his bedroom door creak open, after he’s put the last pancake on your stack and as he pulls the bacon to fry. Jay looks behind him temporarily, your sleepy figure wrapped in a throw blanket approaching him with a blank stare as if you haven’t had a single thought in days.

You look cute like that.

“Morning,” you mumble into his back with your face pressed against the fabric and your arms around his middle. You leave room enough for Jay to maneuver without having to pry your arms off of him.

“Hi, sleepy girl.” Jay moves his head and kisses the part of your head he can reach before shifting his focus to the task at hand. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” He hears you yawn. “But you were gone when I woke up.”

“Somebody needs to feed you,” Jay chides with a smile on his face. He feels you return his smile against his back.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells really good, baby.”

Jay thinks he might combust with the extra squeeze you give him. It’s been nearly three months since he was able to feel you cling onto him like this.

“Oh, yeah? I picked up a few tricks from the hotel’s chef while I was abroad.”

“Like what?”

“I shouldn’t turn the heat up too high when cooking thin meat like bacon and scrambled eggs have better texture when you leave it sitting for a few minutes.”

“I love having a personal chef.”

Jay chuckles deeply. You press a long kiss to his back and he closes his eyes for a brief moment.

“Almost done,” he promises, dropping the last bit of bacon for the two of you onto a plate before turning the head off.

“Oh shit, that bacon smells so good.”

Sunghoon emerges from behind him and eyes the meat that’s still steaming underneath the kitchen light. Jay swats his hand when it gets too close to the bacon, but he inevitably draws the attention of the other members who are now more awake than they were twenty minutes ago.

“Those pancakes look good,” Riki comments. You’ve let go of your boyfriend by now, who is actively trying to pull away the breakfast he’s made for just the two of you.

“Yah,” Jay says. “You guys can make your own breakfast. This one’s for me and my girl.”

“But it smells so good and I might die of hunger,” Jungwon dramatically wines, stomach growling as if on cue.

While Jay is bickering with Jake, who has taken it upon himself to scope through the fruit Jay has cut for you, you’ve stolen a decent-sized pancake and begin to tear it into pieces. You hand one to Riki, and then to Sunoo who has waited quietly behind the taller boy, and then to Jungwon, who looks at you as if you’ve saved him from starvation. The four of you munch on the sweet pancake while the other four boys begin to raise their voices until Sunghoon points at the four of you silently eating in front of them.

“You wound me,” Sunghoon accuses you, hand dramatically clutching his chest when he realizes what you’ve done. “After all we’ve been through?”

“They were hungry,” is your only defense.

“This is preferential treatment,” Jake begins to argue with a pout.

Heeseung’s busy putting pieces of bacon in his mouth the moment Jay looks away from the sizzling plate. It’s too late by the time the young chef realizes what’s happening. Before he knows it, half of the breakfast he’s dedicated his morning to cooking is in the stomachs of people he had not intended to feed.

Jay looks at you with an apologetic smile despite knowing you were the one who instigated this predicament. Wordlessly, you pull the used metal bowl from the sink and rinse it before beginning to make more pancake batter. You silently coax Jay into frying up more bacon by bumping his hip with yours.

Jungwon’s the first to thank you. He leans his head down to rest on your shoulder for a few seconds before Sunoo does the same to your other. They both leave as Riki tugs your shorter body into his from behind and lets his cheek rest against the crowd of your head, mumbling a quiet gratitude as you whisk the batter.

Jay merely looks at you in awe after Riki detaches himself. You’re concentrating far too hard on not spilling the sweet mixture on the counter as the boys resume their time in the living room with Heeseung asking if any of them would like to play a video game while you two cook.

“I love you,” he says before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

The kiss itself is over quicker than he’d like, but you look at him like he’s the only person in the room.

“Come on,” you say, bumping your hip with his again. “We’ve got kids to feed.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

taglist: @junsflow @jeongintwt @fantastichoagieuniversityhairdo @h4918ymc @justletmereadokay @makiswrld @ziakzing @who-tf-soddhi @baevsxii @en-dream @strawberrysavi @cloudyseokjinx @winuvs @2interrwonw @222.palesa @bubblytaetae @ariadores @shu-aa @Enhypensbestie @hyunjisungct @nxzz-skz.

so sorry to anyone who tumblr wont tag ):

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

note again in case you missed it: hi hi! totally messed up on my taglist and didn't realize i couldn't differentiate who wanted to sign up for what taglist. i'm sorry if i tagged you here and you only request my smau - please do let me know if you'd like to be removed and i'll rectify it, no hard feelings or questions asked! x

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thegnomelord · 6 months

Text

CH 1: With a Spark It Starts Just Like It Ended

CW: NSFW Blood, gore, cannon typical violence, M reader but can be read as GN, Mage reader, Monster 141 AU, reader is described as having thick fucked up arms.

AO3 3.7k words, more of an intro to what's to come lol.

Old man Abdul had lived a good life. A harsh one. But a good one.

He was amongst the first to grab a gun and raise the fight against the Russians, risking life and limb for the freedom of Urzikstan even as members of his pack bled and died to artillery fire and noxious gas. And he alone had survived to see his country set free of tyranny and chose to stay in the military long after his hair had greyed.

And how was he rewarded for his service?

With a 'promotion' to guard the basement of a conference hall. They even called it the 'Peace House' as if that made his position grander, though in his humble opinion the only peaceful thing happening within the halls above was the lack of physical violence.

"Hey, did you fall asleep on me old man?" Taim, a bright eyed and gap-toothed human private so young he could've been one of his grandsons, asks as he throws down five playing cards on the floor between them. Royal flush, again.

Old man Abdul's eyes are soft with a glare and he throws down his own cards, already knowing he'd lost. "Go fish." He huffs, leaning back into the chair they'd been able to squirrel away.

It was embarrassing to think that boredom could torture him more than the Russians did, but they were only a few hours into their shift and he was already thinking of biting a bullet. Chances were they'd stay down here long after the diplomats up top finished bickering about who knows what...

"Hey," Taim perks up, and from the few weeks he's known him, Abdul knows the glint in his brown eyes heralds something stupid. "How about whoever loses this round takes a shot from your leg?"

He is proven correct.

"How about I throw you into a minefield so we can match?" Old man Abdul responds, his tail wagging from side to side. His tail looks more at home on a rat than any werewolf, the fur there an accidental casualty of a Russian fire mage's spell that had taken his leg off. The prosthetic leg only fitting on his human body isn't nearly as insulting as the warding totem they'd given him to protect against lethal magic after his leg had gone flying.

Taim gulps and holds his hands up. "There's no need for that sir." He quickly adds, clearing his throat and reaching to the floor to pick up their cards and shuffle them.

Taim's warding totem slips out from beneath his jacket, but it's different from old man Abdul's. Not in appearance, with the same materials every mage will make theirs differently, but in feel. It feels different...wrong.

Eyes narrowing he reaches out and holds the piece of faintly glowing rock between his claws. Heat radiates into his fingers, the magic inside pulsing in a steady even thrum like a machine instead of beating like a heartbeat; like something not quite alive.

Abdul had been in combat long enough to know how good a warding totem is with how his body reacts to it.

The shit one he'd been given barely gets the remaining fur on his tail to bristle.

Taim's makes his skin want to melt off.

"Where did you get this?" Abdul asks, tail curling up as he lets go of the totem with disgust clear on his face. "That rock could probably protect you from L3 mage without cracking, maybe even L4." Call him paranoid, but a private getting a totem to protect him from mages rarer than unicorns doesn't make any sense.

"Oh, that-" The young man clears his throat, the totem laying flat against his chest like an insult to life. "Came from up top a few days ago, guess all those terror attacks spooked command and they want to keep us normal people safe." He realizes his words and quickly adds. "-not that I'm calling you not normal or anything sir, it's just that-"

"-You're squishier than me, yes, I know." Old man Abdul rolls his eyes, leaning back into his chair with a huff.

Taim gives a nervous little giggle, scratching at his curly dark hair. "No offence sir. It's just...you know."

"We all look out for our kinfolk first." Old man Abdul sighs, going to wave him off.

His pointy ear twitches and immediately he's jumping to his feet when his sensitive hearing picks up the sound of the elevator mechanism running. No one is supposed to come down at this time, and Abdul already has his rifle raised to point at the elevator doors by the time Taim is able to get to his own feet. The old werewolf doesn't even need to say anything for the young man to stand on opposite side of him, they work together well, both guns aimed at the person revealed by the opening elevator doors.

It's just the janitor.

Taim lets out a small breath and lowers his gun, relaxing as the janitor gives them a small greeting both of them have to strain their ears to hear as a face mask muffles their words.

"That was a bit embarrassing." Taim chuckles weakly, nodding his own greeting and taking a step back so the janitor can push the heavy cart past them. Abdul notes the janitor's hands are thick and large, the veins poking out beneath latex gloves. Murky water sloshes inside the mop bucket, the trash bag filled to the brim and budging.

It's just a janitor.

But like an annoying tick on his ass, something doesn't let old man Abdul relax.

There's a buzz in the back of his mind like the one he'd get when he was being watched, and when he catches sight of the janitor's eyes beneath the wide-brimmed cap that buzzing stops; Instead replaced with a flash sense of wrongness in his bones and the feeling of tar inside his heart and an indescribable scent — like stale beer and burnt grass and deep dark rot — it has his fingers moving to the trigger before the sight of magic melting through latex can make the short trip from his eyes to his brain—

Glowing lines spring into thin air to form magic circles before their eyes.

The warding totems shatter.

'Pop' goes a head.

Both bodies drop to the ground.

"Could have told me there was a dog." Your words scrape against your throat like shards of glass from the disuse, melted latex stretching into long strands as you take off the cleaner gloves and throw them away, your fingers steaming and glowing hot with mana before you hide them away in tactical gloves.

"I-" Taim tries to say but his voice fails him, eyes and mind still blinded by the harsh glare of magical fire.

"Save it." You cut him off, pulling open the lip of the trash bag to dig out your facemask helmet. It's both a full face helmet and a gasmask, scratched up from years of use but still able to protect your head while keeping you anonymous. A shame it can't filter out the stench of burnt flesh, but you've gotten used to it.

Taim's vision clears and the moment his eyes settle on the charred remains of Abdul's head— the hollowed out skull where concentrated flame had burned a hole straight through everything in it's path, the flesh and bone charred black —he's scrambling away as fast as his feet can push him, the shattered remains of your warding totem crumbling beneath his fingers. Bile rises in his throat and he coughs when he breaths in, but his stomach is thankfully empty so he ends up dry heaving.

"On your feet." Your words are hard to understand under your gasmask, but you don't need to raise your voice. The tone you use has him scrambling to his feet in seconds.

"I- I- yes sir!" Taim manages to stutter out, doesn't even have to fake his fear as he stands at attention. He watches you reach into the dirty water to pull out a Handheld Personal Computer and shake off the residual droplets to ensure it still works before putting it in your pocket.

"When is the next check in?" You ask, reaching further into the trash bag to grasp the handhold on the heavy gas canister hidden beneath office trash. You pull it out without much effort, setting it carefully on the ground so you can recheck that the release valve is intact.

"20 minutes sir." Taim responds and he doesn't need to know Arabic to know what's inside the canister when a grinning skull is printed on the metal.

You let out a low sound, and Taim tries not to peer too closely at you. Sometimes he wonders what face a person who burns people alive without a single second of hesitation could have, but then you look at him and he sees that unnatural glow of mana in your eyes behind the darkened lenses of the helmet and he's glad he's met with the emotionless visage of the mask rather than the one beneath it.

"You have 10 to get out before Hell opens up." You say, standing back up and picking up the canister without complaint. "Use the emergency tunnels, don't spook the VIPs."

Taim is human, not sensitive to magic like the monsters are, but even he can feel the latent mana in your veins that strengthens your body. Like maggots at the back of his skull. It makes a second round of bile rise to his throat. "Yes sir."

You pay close attention to him until he disappears down the corridor before going the opposite way. Alone, it is easier to calm the lingering heat in your veins until the eternal engine of mana in your chest fizzles down to embers like a sleeping beast. Can't have your mana mess with sensitive electronics, even if that does leave you exposed on the cams (as if there's anyone alive to watch them)

"Ifrit, status?" The small radio in your ear crackles.

"Moving to the target, encountered and neutralized a wolf." You answer, taking sharp turns as you follow a path you'd memorized beforehand. "No other monsters to report."

You were lucky to run into one down in the bowels of the conference hall instead of at the front gate. Otherwise your espionage mission would have turned into a frontal assault. Not that Khaled would have minded, you were getting paid to send a loud statement after all.

"Good." You don't need to see his face to know he's smirking, your employer wasn't a huge fan of subhumans. "Continue to the objective."

You respond in affirmative, coming to a heavy metal door, locked with a passcode and even a palm scanner; It's all a valiant effort to keep sensitive data safe, but it may as well be cardboard to you. You summon another circle, this time right on the door, biting your tongue. You're not good with 'subtle' but you haven't forgotten what Taurus or Sierra had taught you; first pushing a bit of loose ash magic between the large atoms making up the metal to disrupt the bonds, then a single pulse of fire ignites the volatile ash and has the entire bottom half crumbling into red hot shards.

Molten slag drips down to the floor when you duck down under the remaining half of the door to find yourself in the server room. Steam rises when the cold air meets your hot skin, but you hardly notice as you first head to the ventilation system at the back of the room. It's dark, but you don't bother turning on the lights, the subtle mana in your eyes enough to give you primitive night vision.

"Ifrit to Alpha-Actual, connecting the payload right now." You say, setting the canister down. The ventilation collects the air from the server room to push it through the entire building and then outside, so all you have to do is melt a hole through the exit pipe until it's big enough for the hose on the canister to fit snugly inside.

"And the files?" Khaled's voice sounds in your ear once you're finished.

"Going now." Standing back up you head to the central server. Taking out the HPC you hook it up to the mainframe, watching the screen until it shows 'connection secure'. "I'm connected."

"Copy that." Your eyes scan the cracked screen (which you broke less than a week after getting it), seeing the file transfer start before Khaled even finishes speaking and trying to read and memorize the names of dozens the files but they change too quickly. "File transfer ETA 5 minutes. Sit tight."

Giving confirmation you keep an eye on the doorway. Though you are positioned in such a way that you'd see the shadow of someone coming in before they see you, years of being behind enemy lines and acting as a friendly to your foes has taught you to be careful. Especially when you can't use more than a smidgeon of mana without frying the entire server system.

You are lucky that no-one comes, the remaining guards too busy guarding the diplomats above you to check what's beneath their noses. While waiting you access the public stream to watch the peace talks, setting the sound to the lowest possible setting so you can keep an eye on the diplomats in case you need a change of plan.

"Got the files, you're clear to finish." You're moving before Khaled can finish speaking, leaving the HPC to hang by the cord from the server. "Oh, and remember: Loud."

"You get what you pay for sir." Kneeling down next to the gas canister you check to ensure your gas mask is firmly on and breathing in deeply; It restricts your breathing and makes muscles work harder, but your body is so used to it that it feels like coming back home.

"Letting the gas out now." Even with the gas mask you still hold your breath when you open the valve, the gas hissing as it escapes the canister, the fan right next to you helping push it through the system. You know there's not enough gas to reach the diplomats on the top floor, it's part of the plan, so when the gas pitters out you cast another circle inside the pipe.

The servers around you flicker meekly and crackle with electricity when you use your mana fully; Something intense and suffocating burns behind your sternum for just a second before liquid mana is rushing down your veins into your hands and coming out through the magic circle as copious amounts of ash.

The rotating fan right next to you spews some of your ash right back at you, flooding the server room in magic that has long since accepted your body enough not to hurt you. But even your seasoned stomach feels tight when you breathe in the mixture of ash and toxic gas, the chemicals turning your magic a nasty shade of green, and you make a mental note to change the filter when you're done with the op otherwise the toxified sediment collecting in there will poison you for months.

You can hear the diplomats begin to cough over the livestream in the HPC, but it all feels so distant when you shift and feel cold dog tags press against your burning chest. They're light like a noose around your neck, yet the absence of weight mocks you in a way their owners no longer can.

There's a familiar sting in your bones when your mana reservoir begins dwindling, but it's easy to push through it until the engine in your chest goes into overdrive from the stress the magic puts on your body. You only stop when the burning mana in your veins starts burning small holes in the sleeves of the janitor jacket, revealing bits of your mage marked skin.

Stopping the flow of ash your hands find themselves in your pocket, taking out a lighter. It's one of those old zippo lighters, the exterior is rusted from years of action and numerous initials are scratched into the metal, but somehow it still functions; It's the strange thing about it— the more you use it, the longer it lasts. Stop, and it dies.

"It's a bit like you, firebug."

Absentmindedly you trace the scratched initials in the metal, trying to ignore the hollowness in your chest when the screams beyond the smokescreen of ash start sounding familiar.

"Going dark." You say to them, flicking it open.

One spark is all it takes.

. . .

With Makarov having gone underground like a wanker after his escape from the gulag, Price and Laswell had been stuck with their heads in mountains of paperwork searching for the bastard. Price had known he'd be in for a headache the moment he agreed to let the boys watch a live football game between England and Scotland, but he reasoned they'd all been working hard enough to earn even a small break.

At the very least it gave them all a moment of reprieve from the stress of a possible world war.

It didn't stop Soap from being a bloody muppet.

"Oh fockin' 'ell!" Soap roars and jumps to his feet, growling at the teli where a ref held a red card above her head. "That should've been a yellow! Fock, one more eye and the ref's a right cyclops." He waves obscenities at the teli as if the ref can see them, his tail hitting Gaz every time it wagged.

"Soap!" Gaz groans and stretches one black wing to smack the werewolf over the head with his long flight feathers to stop him blocking the screen.

Though Gaz's wings are hollow, the smack still hurts. "Ow, what's that for?" Soap groans, rubbing the back of his head.

"At least take your defeat with a wee bit of dignity." Gaz smirks, folding his wings.

"Bold assumption he has any." Ghost mutters next to Price, making him chuckle.

“Oh ho! I’ll get me dignity when the bloody ref gets off 'er knees an’ stops blowing the entire game.” Soap turns to playfully snap his teeth at Gaz. "And what's tha-"

The football match cuts out, replaced with a news segment.

"-Oh, what the fock?" Soap grows quiet when the newscaster begins speaking.

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you breaking news. As we speak, the conference hall in Al Mazra, where diplomats from over 40 countries had come to discuss peace and trade agreements with the newly reinstated Urzikstan government, burns in the flames of another terrorist attack."

The footage shifts to a drone filming a bird's eye view shot of violent flames spewing from every hole and window to engulf the entire three story building in consuming fire, heavy plumes of smoke rising into the sky like a maw of a hungering beast to spew a storm of ash and cinders down to the ground. The clouds of ash have a sick green undertone to them.

"Shit." Gaz sucks in a breath.

"Mokarov's done hiding." Ghost notes, leaning in to look closely at the screen with narrowed eyes.

"How the fock did we miss this?" Soap asks the question in their minds, turning to look at Price. "This popped up like bloody whack-a-mole."

At that same time Price's phone rings. The dragon quickly fishes it out of his pocket, seeing Laswell's name as the caller ID before he picks it up while the reporter drawls on.

"Price, are you-"

"Yeah, I'm watching the teli." He cuts her off, knowing what she's going to say. Distantly he can hear the same news report sounding on her end.

"Authorities warn citizens to vacate the immediate area as toxic gas has been detected in the air. Military forces are already enroute, but the prospects for the diplomats survival are nonexistent."

Price's draconic eyes focus on the screen when the footage shifts to that inside the conference hall. Two diplomats argue about something Price can't begin to try and untangle, his focus on one man near the back who begins coughing. More follow suit, and even over the screen Price can tell the signs of toxic gas inhalation by the way more diplomats begin wheezing and coughing wetly.

"This isn't the Russians." Kate says after Price has put her on speaker.

"How come? Looks like some terrorist shite Makarov would pull." Johnny says, his tail curled up and the tip wagging occasionally as he pays attention to the screen.

Seconds later plumes of blackish-green smog erupt from the vents above the diplomats, spewing out with such force it knocks the the camera and the man behind it down to the ground. Ash Magic, Price realizes when he sees smoldering cinders drift almost peacefully in the all consuming fog. Seconds later something causes a spark and the volatile ash magic explodes.

"Ash mage." Ghost grunts, "Just great."

"Makarov doesn't use mages." Price says, scratching his beard.

"No, but Al-Asad does." Kate's voice drifts through the silent room as they watch several APC's arrive on the scene, armored soldiers exiting. But without any monsters who can stomach the heat like Price and with the fog of ash so thick it could be cut with a knife, the best they can do is secure the perimeter. "The CIA intercepted his broadcast before it went public, this is just the start."

Gaz hops off the couch, crossing the small distance to tap one claw at the screen. "What is that?" He asks. Seemingly hearing him, the drone camera focuses on where the main entrance of the building had been.

A dark silhouette of a person can be seen in the flames, growing darker and more refined until finally a featureless helmet emerges from the flames, a deep glow emanating from behind the lenses. It's followed by a body, clothes burnt away in some parts but the flesh beneath unharmed. Price can tell immediately it's a mage by the state of the arms — even from far away it's easy to tell the mage marks, the skin turned rough and dark like cooled magma, veins brimming with volatile mana.

Before the soldiers can fire a single bullet you lift one hand up, the dark mage marks turning to bright like fresh lava when mana flows from your chest to your fingers. A magic circle etches itself into the ground in an instant, so large the surrounding buildings fall into it's perimeter.

And with a second motion of your hand everything erupts into an all consuming cloud of ash.

Laswell's voice rings out. "That's Khaled's new attack dog."

Price and Ghost share a look, both know what will happen long before some nervous soldier caught in the ash cloud pulls the trigger. The cloud of ash explodes the second a spark is created in a weapon's chamber, plunging everything into chaos.

Great, a new wanker to worry about.

Price sighs, brows furrowing. "That's trouble all right."

Tag list: @resident-cryptid @diejager @lovingtyrantkitten @lieutnt

Masterlist <- Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

You can imagine the helmet however you want, but it's in the style of the Devtac Ronin helmet.

#centerpieces of the hoard #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #top male reader #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #fanfiction #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod x male reader #cod x reader #monster 141 au #monster cod au #not betaed #next chapter coming soon

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