#i’m just in a mood for beau being held! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreams-of-valeria · 1 year

Text

CHAPTER TEN

Paris was a dream.

Both in quality and time.

While I cannot in good conscience say it was not overrated, it was not not overrated either. I think what draws people in is the vibe, the energy of the city. The last time I felt the buildings thrum with the spirit of its residents was in New York and that was a good 10 years ago for a field trip. Paris, similarly, sprung charm and beau monde from its hallowed halls. While Atticus and I didn’t exactly fit into that cutout, we certainly acknowledged it, and quickly found ourselves slipping into shallow cracks like molten gold.

We danced to live music at cafes by the Arc de Triomphe, held hands as we walked through the Louvre–twice, because there was just too much to see and speak and too little time. We dined, we took long evening walks, made out in parks, made out in bars, danced in underground pubs to German punk rock. We let the city take us.

Atticus only left me by myself on the last day there, where he had to meet with a tech company rooted in France for a partnership. It must have been a huge win, because he was in a fantastic mood when he came back to the hotel to pick me up for dinner. He was singing.

His lifted spirits flew us right through a cancelled reservation at a swanky restaurant because we were late by a minute–it was probably going to be ridiculously expensive anyway and I didn’t want more discomfort for having him keep paying for me–and even through spilled chocolate on his shirt when we settled for croissants for dinner at a cart around the street corner.

We sat at a freezing park bench by the bridge and munched on our dinner, dressed to the nines. I wore sheer stockings, because as I recently discovered, Atticus had a mighty thing for women in stockings. His hand rested on the inside of my thigh, while his other wrapped around my shoulders. All we heard was our gentle breaths, violin from somewhere down the street, and the gentle lap of water against the rocks beneath us.

“You know I’ve wanted to come here ever since I watched that stupid movie Monte Carlo?”

He tittered and buried his nose in my hair.

“I still don’t get why you like romcoms so much.”

“I’m learning,” he said against my hair.

“Learning?”

“How to be a good boyfriend.”

I had to look at him for that. I saw no hint of a joke, no ghost of a smile. He really meant it.

“I feel like I come short sometimes, like there’s stuff I’m supposed to do but it doesn't occur to me.”

“What sort of stuff?”

He licked his lips. “Even simple stuff, like trying to do something nice for your birthday. It doesn’t occur to me.”

“I don’t celebrate mine.”

“Me neither! Like, what’s the point?”

I moved to face him. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“Because, in a relationship, people expect certain things from a partner. I don’t mean me, I’m just so caught up in spending time with you that I don’t pay a lot attention to the what. Does that make sense?”

“It does. And that’s exactly how I feel too. Like all day yesterday, it didn’t occur to me once to take pictures. Do you know we have exactly three pictures of us together? I get caught up in you enough to conform to norms too. And I’m insulted that you thought I expected a fairytale romance from you.”

“Don’t you?”

“Not from you. You’re not ordinary so why would I want an ordinary relationship?”

“So you’re fine with being exactly at this stage . . . a year from now?”

I nodded.

“Two years?”

“Yes! And I don’t plan on having kids either.”

“It’s just that the three year mark is the time most couples get married.”

“That is a ridiculous timeline and I’ve always thought so. Who decided these milestones in a relationship anyway? Three dates and it’s suddenly acceptable to have sex, then you meet each others’ friends, parents, have night caps, and oh, the throne that people place saying I love you on is ridiculous,” I sucked in a breath. Atticus was hanging on to my every word.

“And then you move in, get engaged, go broke trying to get married and then have one kid, then two, then get a dog when the kids move out, work through erectile dysfunction in therapy, work through vaginismus in therapy, couples counselling for just being stuck with the same person for years on end just because of a fucking ceremony, be there mentally and physically for your kids until they’re old enough to do the same thing all over again and just to die like everyone else in the end? That, my friend, is the biggest scam people have fallen for. It’s not Ponzi, it’s not Nigeria, it’s the ancient false promise of organised religion and government telling you must find someone to settle down with and procreate as a means to achieving fulfilment in your mundane, pathetic lives and that there will be anarchy if you didn’t do exactly what’s been done for generations because you want to fit in, you must fit in, but really it’s just a form of control. Sure, we can pick who to fuck and marry but it is still institutionalised prison scraping the bottom of Maslow’s pyramid of needs.”

I looked too late to see my tone was not park worthy at all. My skin prickled and my breaths trembled.

“Jesus Christ,” Atticus whispered, a cautious smile on his face. Was that pride?

“I just had to get that out,” I grinned, rubbing my hands over my face. Where did all the air go?

“I’m glad you did, because same–”

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” I stood to my feet so suddenly that my head reeled.

“W–”

“I want you,” I leaned down and kissed him. With tongue. With teeth. With everything I could give him. I wanted him, I craved him.

Within ten minutes, Atticus was buried deep inside me on the edge of the bed. He didn’t fold our discarded clothes this time. I wouldn’t let him. We didn’t turn on the lights, or the air conditioning. I clung on to him, damp with sweat and agonising desire, only the light from the Eiffel Tower in the window behind him illuminating the room. The air was heavy with our breaths and the musk of our bodies reacting to each other. I felt transcendent.

“You feel so sweet,” Atticus groaned into my mouth as I grinded my hips against him rhythmically, hands fisted in his hair. His lip was still swollen from when I’d bitten him, his eyes dark and pensive, like an abyss beckoning me closer and closer. And I needed to go.

It took me by surprise: both our orgasms and what I said.

“Oh God, I love you, I love you, I love you,” I moaned with a final jerk of my hips and Atticus landed on his back. I slid off him and we stared at the intricate crown moulding on the ceiling, not saying a word.

What the fuck. Where the fuck did that come from? Didn’t you tell him the whole thing was a scam five fucking minutes ago? And now you’re fucking telling him you love him like you’re caught in a fever dream?

I wanted an undo button, I wanted to be anywhere but here. I needed myself to not have said that, or to say or do anything else to get his attention away from it. He probably thought I was a hypocrite, or a clueless hack, but I was frozen. Did I give that big speech because I actually meant it, or did I just want to see his reaction to save myself the embarrassment of saying it first? I so wanted to correct things, to make it better but I found nothing. My mind scrambled in white noise as I grasped at imaginary straws until I brought up something much worse, on a complete whim.

“I came to your office that day because I thought I was pregnant.”

I couldn’t explain the thinking behind that exactly. Did I bring it up because it was worse than what I’d said? Or because I finally decided it was time he knew?

He didn’t look at me, but his breathing changed.

“I was a week late and we had unprotected sex a couple of times and I just wanted to tell you before I even took the test. I think I was afraid you’d hate me or be disappointed in me and I wanted to face the consequences before even confirming it. But I got my period like ten minutes after that, so . . .”

“I wouldn’t hate you. Or be disappointed.”

I looked at him. His eyes were moist, and he was still looking up at the ceiling.

“I think I would just be afraid.”

His adam's apple bobbed as we swallowed.

“There is a lot of generational trauma in my family, Cleo. My dad was present but never involved, and I don’t think my mother has ever touched me.”

Holy shit.

“I think they just had me to establish an heir but I never wanted any of it, so I left. And that day,” Atticus swallowed again and looked at me. “I thought my mother was coming to see me.”

“That’s why you had the lawyers.”

“I just didn’t want to be alone.”

Holy fucking shit.

If I embraced him, I was afraid he would break. Atticus liked space when he was upset.

“I’m so sorry,” I touched his face.

“Don’t be,” he sniffled. “I’ve moved on.”

I slid closer and kissed his neck, staying below his eye line. I knew the last thing he wanted was pity. Atticus, thankfully, leaned into my touch. If he rejected me right then I knew I would weep.

“Why did you say you loved me?”

I froze again.

“We mustn’t waste our breath in fact affirmation.”

***

While I should have been ecstatic with the fact that Atticus felt the same way about me, it was severely dampened by the other details of that conversation. I spent a lot of time trying to correct his past traumas, but I caught myself, and focussed on understanding him instead. A lot of things about him began to make sense. The intimacy drift, why he was repulsive of marriage and having children–while we may have had the same ulterior motives, my apprehension stemmed from non-conformation to societal norms and a reluctance to assume responsibility of another human being while I had the glorious choice not to, while Atticus was so traumatised that he couldn’t bring himself to even consider the possibility.

I skirted around questions of therapy, subtle and mostly hesitant, but he assured me he had regular appointments, often surprised when I showed concern about it.

It was tragic that there were so many ways to mess up children. There was no foolproof method to raise a good human being, and some mistakes in parenting eventually turned out to prove more malignant than others. The whole thing was a gamble, even with the most favourable conditions.

But I didn’t discuss this with him. Rather than dwell on what happened in the past and console his childhood persona, I found merit in dealing with the man he was today. Although he wasn’t sure how to show it, I knew Atticus was grateful for that. Over the next two weeks, he would often embrace me wordlessly from behind as I got the coffee ready, or engage me in a sincere, passionate kiss or hug out of context. He showed me appreciation in ways he knew how, in ways he wasn’t able to engage in as a child. But I was proud of how far he’d come, and how he was finally opening up to me.

Atleast, that’s what I thought.

On the morning of March 17th, as I was scrolling instagram, I came across an alternative film festival downtown, and signed us up on a whim. I couldn’t exactly explain why, I’d seen plenty of those flyers before, but perhaps it was just an excuse to see him. Atticus had been scarce the last few days, blaming work, and I thought a show at lunch would be a nice change for him.

“Hey, Heather. Is he out yet?” I asked, sipping my coffee. The only time he didn’t take my calls was if he was in a meeting.

“Uh, not yet. But I could give you the number to the hospital if it’s an emergency.”

I set my cup down. “Hospital?”

As it turned out, Atticus has been having yearly angiograms and was scheduled to get one that morning at 11 AM. I ran all the red lights on my way there.

I found Atticus on the fourth floor in a private room, dressed in a hospital gown and nodding grimly at a doctor reading from an iPad. His lips formed a tight, thin line, and he was rubbing his index finger against the pad of his thumb too often. He did that when he was nervous.

Taking a breath, I entered without knocking.

“Sorry, I’m late,” I smiled at the doctor and kissed Atticus on the side of his head. He gawked at me like I had three tits.

“Not a problem, Miss–”

“She’s with me, Hendy. Cleo, this is Dr. Henderson of Sigma kappa.” Atticus sighed and sat up. “And this is Cleodora–”

“The designated driver,” the doctor grinned and shifted his weight.

“You remember that?”

“Well it was my house party and it's not everyday that Atticus himself is enchanted by someone,” he winked at me.

“Alright,” he cut him short and gestured with his hand to keep it moving.

“As I was saying, the vaginoplasty will yield great results and you can resume pegging from tonight, even. Right, Cleo?” He winked.

“Fuck you.” Atticus answered for me with an exasperated grin.

“In all seriousness, though, you’ll be fine. I have your back, man. Leave it all to me,” Dr. Henderson patted his shoulder, and that pulled another breath from him. He was really nervous. No wonder he was going to great lengths to calm him down. After the good doctor left the room, Atticus refused to look at me. I could tell he was choosing his words.

Before he could say anything, I went up to him and ran my hand through his hair. “You’ll be fine,” I cooed, tapping his nose. That made him smile. “Wanna know how I know that?”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Because I need to yell at you and I’m not doing that until after the anaesthesia wears off.”

“How did I get so lucky?” he sighed whimsically.

“You’ll be just fine,” I repeated with a smile and kissed him. “I love you.”

“I know.”

A nurse then came in and wheeled him out. The last thing I saw before they turned the corner was his bright, smiling face.

They brought him back soon enough that I hadn’t had time to gnaw my entire finger off. He was still asleep, of course, mouth open. I stepped up and wiped the drool off.

“All good?” I asked Dr. Henderson as he eyed the monitor hooked up to Atticus.

“All good,” he flashed me a smile. “I’m happy he has someone to wait for him this year when he wakes up.”

“Me too,” I smiled and he left with a pat on my shoulder. Ouch. You can take the jock out of college . . .

After my mind decided I’d touched him enough to comfort me that he was alright, I sat at the couch, and immediately drifted off.

I dreamt of our week in Paris, albeit mixed in with other inexplicable elements. I woke up to the smell of coffee, and Atticus sipping it quietly with my feet in his lap, as he went through his phone.

“Hey,” he greeted me gently, and all the fear was gone. He was dressed in a casual white linen shirt and jeans.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Just about four hours now,” he smiled again, squeezing my foot. I slipped them off him immediately and stood up.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

He shrugged.

“Oh God, how are you feeling?”

He pat his thigh wordlessly. I stared at him.

“SIt on me and I’ll tell you,” he proposed.

“Isn’t the wound still fresh?” I asked, eyes glancing to his right thigh where there was a slight bulge of the gauze dressing.

“Somebody’s been googling,” he smirked

“Youtube, actually. Driving myself crazy. Why do you need to get it done yearly, Atticus? Are you ok?”

He sighed. “Please sit.”

I took the place next to him, and he wasted no time mounting me, slightly wincing. He wasn’t all that heavy, actually. Atticus was not a tall man and he was one breath away from skinny. Toned skinny, but skinny nonetheless.

“You are aware that people have serious conversations without straddling each other, right?” I asked, as he put his arms around my neck.

“Do you wanna know or not?”

I humoured him. He needed this.

“Well?” I started off, touching my nose to his and wrapping my arms around his waist.

He stared at the space between us. “Both my dad and grandad died from cardiac arrest before they were 40. Just the one. There were no warning signs, no symptoms. Just one big attack and poof!”

I swallowed, but held my tongue.

“And they must have realised that emotional unavailability didn’t sweeten the pot enough as some familial hypercoagulability in the genes, so I’ve spent the last 5 years just trying to get ahead of it.”

“But you’re fine,” I said, holding his face.

“For now.”

“Kit,” I sighed. “You eat healthy, you exercise–” I paused as it hit me. This is why he had to make sure. “You take care of your body.”

“I’m just prolonging it, Cleo. My death has been dictated before I was even born.”

“No, it’s not. Certainly not with that attitude.” Why was I yelling? Well, I did say I would. But unlike before the procedure, Atticus wasn’t afraid. He had accepted his fate. Well, tough.

“You are not your father.”

His eyes glanced up at me.

“And you are not his father before him.”

His nose sniffled and eyes went moist. Did he really not know this? Had he accepted that personality passed down through genetics just like disease?

Holy shit, he did.

“You are so much more than you think. You’re compassionate, you’re loyal and you’re loved. And that’s only three differences.”

He smiled and gave me a peck. “You’re loved too.”

“I know. We’ll be fine, cherie,” I said, making him chuckle.

To this day, I think often about that phrase, because it was the greatest lie I ever said. Every night since Atticus was lowered in his grave, I think about that moment.

1 note · View note

casukaga · 2 years

Text

[yasha voice] “frame so small…yeah, she’s so small…”

🌟 Instagram | Twitter | Youtube | Ko-fi 🌟

#i’m just in a mood for beau being held!#also their height difference #and size difference #they love each other so much i miss them so bad #critical role #crit role #cr #the mighty nein #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #beauyasha #critical role fanart #digital art #fanart #casu art #my shtuff #ever since dax told me they knew i was short because i fixate on beauyasha’s height difference i have not been the same since #you got me so good i’m—

9K notes · View notes

ivyglow · 3 years

Text

Mine | Anthony Beauvillier

A/n: this idea came after we had a very sexy- I mean- Angry* Anthony pushing Sidney Crosby. Barbie and some anons send the good energy and so althought it took me forever here it is *cheers*. A huge thank you for @barbienoturbby for sending me some specific ideas (sharpies, choking etc hehehe), putting up w my random messages in the middle of the night or being a insecure bitch, ILY BARBIE! Huge shout out to @sebs-aston for proofreading this so fast *you’re amazing, liv!*. PS. More than ever I’m gonna need your feedback because I’m an insecure bitch and this is my first time writing smut (freddie was thigh riding, I don’t consider it too much). So please just lmk if you like it or hate it <3

Word count: 4k

Warnings: smut, mention of chocke, spitting, oral -female receiving- and all those dirty stuff.

Summary: after getting angry on the ice, you decide to make Anthony angry in bed too.

You knew Tito was a dom in bed as soon as you met him: he helped you to sit and to get up on your first date, and he led you to your car with his hand on your lower back. One month into getting to know each other, you were planning a gathering with his friends and he was the one to assign everyone with a task. Some days he would use fewer words and stick with hand gestures or eye contact to tell you what he wanted or what he was silently saying.

So when you two had sex for the first time and he was on top, you were not surprised, you also weren’t surprised when he asked how would you feel about hair pulling, choking, and tying. And, well, you’d never tried any of this, so you were honest with him, knowing that honesty was the key to make things work. He promised to go slow, and he watched you intently while he did everything just to make sure you were comfortable. You can still remember how it felt when he first stretched you, how your heel went to his back to accommodate his waist better, how this movement gave him the perfect angle to go all the way until the end.

You also remember the hickeys he left on your skin, mostly on places where your clothes could hide, but some you knew he purposely made for people to see. And people saw, indeed and also heard. He got a noise complaint twice because his old bed would scratch and bang on the wall, and that wouldn’t be a huge problem if it was anyone else, but it was Anthony, a hockey player, at that point -your boyfriend-, and he had the stamina to go for hours. A chug of water, maybe a fruit snack, and less than twenty minutes later he was ready to go again - or he would use these twenty minutes to get you off with his mouth and fingers. So the noise complaint was very much expected.

Now six months into the relationship, this wasn’t a problem anymore. Tito bought a new bed, and even talked with a friend about the possibility of getting soundproof walls. That’s why you were drinking your water and eating one of his energy bars while watching the game. The dynamic after games was usually very sexual, it didn’t matter if he was on the road or at home, you would find a way to get off, either phone sex or spicy pics. He never left you to your own hands.

The Isles were playing against the Penguins and you knew he was pissed off because of their losing streak against that team. That made him angry with some specifics players too. When he got home last night, you just cuddled together and went to sleep, he was tired and fuming because of their loss, and he probably heard a handful by his coach. Because of those losses, you knew he was going to skate his way around the ice tonight more than ever, and, especially, that he was angry.

You were laying on his couch when the game started, the Isles skating around the ice in a way you would have bet was a premonition for another loss, but ten minutes in things started to go differently, and that was the exact moment when you sat and gripped Beau’s shirt before an amazing shot hit the Pens’ net. They kept the rhythm on for the next two periods, although they were pretty much stressful- a handful of times you caught yourself holding your breath or cursing. The last two were also a stage for your boyfriend’s anger. He was pissed in a way you’d never seen before on the ice, and when Sidney Crosby pushed Pulock, Tito had had enough and shoved the opposition’s player on the ice. Torn between finding it hot or funny, you chose the latter letting out a loud laugh. Yet, when another exchange of pushes happened between the Pens’ superstar and Beau you sure felt the heat taking up space inside your body and you shifted on the couch. There was another goal and the game kept on providing stress and anxiety for the fans, but you were stuck on the scene your boyfriend had just put up.

He was usually like this in bed, but not that much on the ice, and seeing that happening outside the four walls left you with a lingering warmth inside your body, and not the cute warmth you usually felt when he cooked for you or told you how much he loved you. But the warmth you got whenever he bent you on the kitchen counter or held your hand tight while going down on you.

It was past midnight when you heard the door open and close, the soft click making your heart beat faster. He was home. You heard the thud of his bag on the floor and his steps bringing his scent closer to the living room where you were sitting on the couch wearing only his jersey and his favorite lace.

“Hey you, winner,” your voice echoed in the dimly lit apartment and you could see his lips curling in a small smile.

“Hey, babe,” his lips found yours on a quick peck and you looked up for more contact, but Anthony was already walking to the kitchen.

“Are you ok?” you asked, barefoot padding the floor until you reached the stool.

Your boyfriend was already busy cutting some bananas in a bowl, “Yeah, just a little stressed with the game and hungry,” he answered.

“But you won,” you stated in confusion.

His eyes scanned you for a second before going back to his task. The silence was everything you needed to know: he really was not in the mood for long talks after the episode, but you were a woman on a mission and you knew exactly what to do to get Anthony riddled up.

“You guys had a great game…” you began, cautious with your words and actions, hands reaching for a banana on the fruit bowl. “How was playing against Sidney Crosby?”

You saw how his eyebrows raised slightly before pouring honey on his bowl and whipping his fingers with his tongue. You knew the action wasn’t supposed to be filthy, yet you’ve been dating him long enough to know that he knew every action of his could be seen as sexual at some point.

“It was normal, he’s a normal hockey player like any of us,” his tone is nonchalant.

You suppress a grin, “he’s not like any of you, he’s Sidney Crosby. Just last night he reached his thousandth game,” Tito’s now chewing on his fruit and you can see how the motion seems tighter after your words, still you keep going, “he’s like a superstar! I would love to meet him any of these days…” you trail off busying yourself on biting the banana you just peeled off. His eyes trained on how your lips wrap around the piece of fruit, your tongue purposely darting out. Your boyfriend chooses silence again and you huff rolling your eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he queries, eyes on his bowl, jaw still clenched tight while biting another piece of his fruit. You dart your eyes in another direction while biting your banana again, this time without so much care on giving him a hard time. “I asked you a question, y/n,” his tone was sharp and his voice low. You shake your head.

He grabs his water bottle before chugging half of the content, “Cat got your tongue? I swear I just saw you poking it out while eating that banana to provoke me,” he tauntingly gives you a defiant look.

Anthony motions for you to come to him and you follow his orders willingly, eager to finally have your way with him. You’re within arm’s reach when he tugs you closer, making you stumble in the middle of his big thighs. In a blink of an eye, you feel the sting on your butt cheeks, his big hands finding it again one more time before grabbing your chin. “You can’t even wait for your man to eat,” it’s a low grunt and he seems more annoyed with your playful smile, and you see the perfect opportunity to tease him a little bit more, “You could eat something else, there’s nothing stopping you…”

With that Anthony seems to lose his judgment before swinging your body on top of the counter, “you’re being such a brat tonight” his hands grab your butt squeezing it hard, “that’s not how you get the things you want”

“No? Then why are you about to fuck me?” you mock him knowing damn right that this would only make him go harder on you.

“Crisse,” (holy shit) his French accent makes your pussy throb. You loved when he talked in French to you.

His big hand pushes you back in a swift motion, the same hand spreads your legs for him, and it’s only a second before you’re fully laying on the counter. Still wearing only a lace thong and his jersey, you know the former is about to be ripped out of you. Anthony drags his fingers from the bottom of your belly to your breasts before gifting you a devilish smirk as soon as he notices you’re not wearing a bra.

“You think Sidney Crosby is the superstar, but you know damn well I’m gonna be the reason why you’re seeing stars tonight,” he whispers before sitting on the stool and kissing up to your thighs. His lips are sticky from the honey and because they’re cold it sends chills running through your warm body. You stretch your arms to reach his hair and he hums grabbing your wrists harshly, “no hair pulling for you tonight,” his murmurs hit your skin and you let out a small whine.

In order to play with your sensations, you see him taking a long gulp of his cold water. You know it will make his mouth colder and slicker, and you know he’s only doing it because he’s planning to spend a long time between your legs.

And that he does.

You sigh when his lips finally reach your pussy, the shock it causes is good and you can’t help but close your thighs in an attempt to bring him where you are really yearning for his lips. Nevertheless, that’s not what he has planned for you, and he drags his mouth between your pussy lips long before finally wrapping his lips on your clit and humming in pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” you let out a whine when his fingers reach for your nipple and twist it hard. His wet tongue flickered on your clit and he dived in deeper, making you feel all of him, from his stubble that was starting to grow to his full lips, you could feel it all.

“Anthony,” you try to form a sentence in the exact moment he pushs one finger inside of you, but your voice comes out as a prayer. A plea for more.

You were a sinner for him.

“You taste so good,” it’s a pleasure mumble and it comes just before his palm strikes your butt cheeks in a firm slap. “I could spend days here, bébé”

“Anthony,” you try again and this time he laughs with his lips still wrapped around your clit. The vibrations send shivers through your whole body, your toes curl and you try to reach for his hair again before his hand holds both of your wrists.

You’re close and he knows it because he adds another finger and curls it. It’s a ‘come here’ motion and from another dimension, you were almost able to hear him whisper the same words in French.

“Give it to me,” he demands, and you do as said just as another finger hits your right spot. For some seconds the kitchen’s ceiling turns black with dots and your vision goes blurry. Toes curling, the pitch on your belly button finally making its way out just like the curses and moans that leave your mouth. Most of them being his name and how good he makes you feel.

You’re not even done with your high when his big hands grab your ankles bringing your body to the edge of the counter and making you sit. “Open your mouth,” he demands.

You moan, eyes rolling back from pleasure, “put your tongue out for me, má chérie,” his hands, now holding your jaw, tighten around you. There’s a whimper of bliss and you part your lips wide bringing your tongue out just like demanded before he spits on your mouth.

“See how good you taste?!” Anthony hums and you swallow it before poking your tongue out again and licking from his glistering chin to his lips. The action fuels a passionate kiss and it’s seconds before your weak legs wrap themselves around his waist bringing him closer. Your core finds the bulge on his pants and you whimper feeling aroused again.

Your boyfriend is fast to grasp the underside of your thighs bringing your body close to his before making his way towards the bedroom. You take your time licking and kissing his neck and jaw until your body hits the mattress and he’s unbuckling his belt.

“Take it off” he commands, unbuttoning his dress shirt. You’re fast to obey taking off the jersey you’re wearing, now you’re fully naked in front of him.

“Hands,” you put both of your wrists together and he fastens his belt around it tight.

From the way his eyebrows were slightly up to his lips parted, you knew he was about to give you another orgasm, you knew that he wasn’t done and he wouldn’t be any time soon.

“Do we have a safe word tonight, bébé?” his full lips find your jaw and neck and he nibbles on your ear before sucking harshly on your neck again.

His purpose is to mark you, not only where people can see, but also where they can’t. Just like your waist is being held with such fierceness, you know it’ll leave prints there. You hum a yes dropping your head to the side so he can have more access to your skin, “use your words, you know I need to hear you say it,” he whispers now bringing his mouth to your nipples and biting it lightly. You whimper, “our safe word is blue.”

“Perfect,” you can feel his smile on your skin and when you reach for his hair with your hands tied, he pushes them up. His strong arm swings on top of your belly and he takes his time on your breasts before making his way lower. There’s a pitch bubbling on your belly again just with the idea of it and he gives you mischievous grim kissing and licking your thighs.

“Beau,” you whine already feeling your legs weakening again.

“I told you I was hungry, you were the one who suggested the meal,” the funny remark is accompanied by a flicker of his tongue on your cunt. “Now I’ll only stop when I’m satisfied.”

You curse closing your hands and trying to bring your waist up. He shakes his head, “huh huh, that’s a bad girl attitude,” he spits on your pussy and you moan loud, “and you know exactly what we do to bad girls in this house, don’t you?”

You nod and he chuckles.

“Words.”

“I know, sir.”

“Now, there’s my good girl,” he praises finding your clit and holding it carefully between his teeth, “now give it to me just like you suggested,” he murmurs before diving on your pussy, his tongue gentle and slow, in contrast with his solid arm pinning you to the bed and his rough behavior.

It would be a long ride and you would feel every step taken, because each one would bring you closer to the inevitable. You felt urgency though; you wanted him to fuck your brains out already. But Anthony took his time, and you knew he was being good because he let you cum in the kitchen even after you provoked him. When his point finger entered you, your eyes couldn’t focus and you knew you were closer, yet instead of giving you a release, your boyfriend took his kisses to your thighs grinning at you one more time.

“You’re so beautiful,” he speaks under his breath, eyes trained on your pussy. Yet you don’t feel ashamed, because it’s Anthony, and he knows you like the back of his hands, he knows what to do to make you comfortable and he knows how to make you feel good. He would praise and love your body rightly, so you let him. You spread your legs wider and gave him a lopsided smile.

“Please,” you plead again that night; however, he follows your request this time.

Anthony dives in again, licking and spitting, flickering his tongue and using his fingers. Giving you what he got and what he knows you like. Your body is fast to answer, your waist trying to go higher to find his mouth, your toes curling, your head shooting back and your eyes rolling.

He got you there. Fast.

And he made sure to ride you out of you high, this tongue not the least careful with your sensitive bud, while cleaning you up he kept licking it lightly. Full lips brushing it with dedication.

“Now I want you on all fours,” there’s a dirty smile on his glistering lips and you hold back another moan with the image of Anthony sitting between your legs, face glowing with your cum, “allos y,” (c’mon). You turn your body, holding your hands before supporting your head on the pillows, ass up for him.

There’s the noise of a slap and the sting on your butt cheeks, right before a soft kiss is placed on top of the surely red mark. His hands roam around your body and you shiver when he grabs your hair. “Crisse, tu as l'air si chaud,” (holy shit, you look so hot) Anthony slaps you booty again and finally slips his finger at your entrance feeling your wetness pool around. You’re already ready for him again and he seems pleased with the realization. So pleased it doesn’t take long for him to slip inside of you hitting just the right spot. Your body shots upward and he holds you by your waist keeping your butt bent.

“Anthony,” you moan loudly when he starts moving ruthlessly inside of you. There’s something hot about how his body is being aggressive and you are taking it all, how his hips are almost knocking your body down, “right - fucking - there,” you whine and he keeps going, this time grabbing your hair and making your body lean towards him.

“Whose name are you screaming tonight, bébé?” he mumbles bending his own body on top of yours without completely letting go of the position.

“Yours,” your answer between groans.

“Let me hear you”

And you do.

You say his name out loud and clear, and you’re almost sure the neighbors are going to hear it. Yet you do it again and again while the sound of your voice is mixed with the noise of his skin hitting your skin and his feral grunts. He’s big and hard inside you and every time he goes out to get inside again you can feel your pussy stretching out to accommodate him.

“Beau,” you moan and he chuckles leaning his body down to kiss your back. You see from the corner of your eyes when he finds the black marker on the top of your drawer, you can almost see his head working on ideas, and then he’s grabbing the sharpie you were using to write on your sticky notes earlier today.

His body is straight up again and his movements are now slower, as he unclasps the marker and you feel its cold material hit your skin. There’s a long up and then down movement, you’re almost sure it’s an M, and then there’s a harsh line of an I, you can hear his grunts louder and he stops himself for a second before shooting his body towards yours again. The sharpie finds your skin again, this time to draw an N, you knew he was doing it big, not only for his eyes, but for you to feel and to know exactly what it was as he wrote the last letter, an E.

You roll your eyes when he closes and throws the sharpie somewhere in the room before leaving another one of his blows on your butt cheeks. Anthony swings his arm around your torso bringing you up to him, your back hitting his solid chest, “you’re mine,” and that’s what it takes for you to come undone on his still hard cock. Your whole body trembles and your vision goes blurry again, there are tears in your eyes, and this time your moans turn into screams of satisfaction.

He keeps fucking you through your high and you curse dropping your head back on his shoulder. His hand sneaks in front of your body to touch your sensitive clit, and you hold it sinking your nails on his skin. “Oh fuck,” he grunts drawing his finger deeper. You’re not sure if your body can’t take so much pleasure.

“Let me ride you,” it’s a prayer, a plea, a cry, and you can feel his lips on your neck before your bodies are turned and you’re on top taking him deeper, touching new spots.

“That’s it, bébé,” he praises you and you roll your hips using your last energies. His hands find their way to your thighs and his short nails dig on your skin bringing you impossibly closer. There’s a deep grunt from him and a small whine from you. It’s hard for your eyes to focus, and you use your body to pin his down and your tied hands find his neck before squeezing it. His hips shot up under you and you scream, tightening your grip on him and squeezing his dick inside of you.

You can feel another knot on the pitch of your belly, but this time it feels different to recognize this new sensation. That’s when you notice the wetness under you dripping onto his cock to his belly button and in the bed.

“Fuck,” he moans, “Oh shit, you’re squirting,” his big hands go to your back and he keeps shooting his hips up to meet your pussy, “that’s it, bébé, give it to me once more,” and you’re squeezing him one last time before giving both of you a mind-blowing orgasm. Your body tumbles on top of his and this time things go pitch black instead of blurry. You can still feel his hot body under you and his rapid heartbeat, but your body is fluttering and there’s nothing in front of you. There’s only his body. There’s only your boyfriend existing under you with his cock still deep inside of you.

It’s seconds before his caresses on your back become some kind of poking, “y/n?”

“Huh?” you mumble, your voice raspy. He chuckles.

“Fuck, you passed out,” he sounds proud and you giggle.

“That was the best sex we’ve ever had,” you confess without finding the strength to move your hands and caress him back, but Anthony keeps the tip of his fingers moving softly around your body, “I think I should talk more about Sidney Crosby, huh?” you joke and his hips shot upward making you moan Anthony’s name. Although he just came, he’s still hard and deep inside your soaked pussy.

“What were you saying?” he questions with a smug grin. “I think you were saying something about a certain player, Sidney Crosby maybe?”

You arch your eyebrows, “who’s Sidney Crosby? I only know Anthony Beauvillier,” and he laughs at your answer before kissing your lips softly. You know there’s gonna be a time for water and a fruit snack later and then he’s going again, because he’s never done until you’re completely wrecked, the only name able to escape your lips being his.

Taglist: @smit41 @mybrokenshitthoughts @linasobsessions @hoiyheadharpies @barbienoturbby @barzysandmarnersbitch @elitebarzal @fallinallincurls @starswin @sortagaysortahigh If you wanna be added to my taglist you can send my your user in here

If you want to read more of my works here’s my masterlist and if you want to support my writing hit the reblog and like button <3 feel free to send me a pm or an ask telling me what you thought about this piece!

#anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #anthony beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier smut #melinda writes smutty #hockey smut #mels writing #smut

497 notes · View notes

rosesvioletshardy · 3 years

Text

mr. perfectly fine - mat barzal

okay first ever fic for Mat and I really hope you all like it. sorry it took so long i've been busy with school and work and the only time i got to work on it was in the middle of the night and it's finally done. sorry that it’s really long i sort of got carried away with it and if it's really bad

i got the idea for the fic after Taylor released the song and i lowkey got some mat vibes on some of the lyrics

(please note this is fiction and just like my nolan “all too well” fic, i don’t think that mat is like this as a person and would not be like this)

masterlist

mat masterlist

warnings: angst, fluff, mainly angst

# of words: 3,550

Being with Mat was something you never thought would happen. From the moment the two of you met the first time to where you currently were it felt like it was all just a dream. He would tell you stupid jokes that would always make you laugh, try to make you breakfast or dinner, if you were upset he’ll start singing off-key while holding you to make you give him a small smile. It wasn’t like that anymore. No more stupid jokes, attempted dinners or breakfast, and off-key singing.

Mr. "Perfect face"

Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right

Mr. "I've been waitin' for you all my life"

Mr. "Every single day until the end, I will be by your side"

It was the morning. The morning after 1 year of being together. You had everything planned for a nice dinner, a walk back to the apartment before a night of activities. The sunlight was creeping into yours and Mat’s bedroom through the closed curtains as your eyes began to flicker open. Mat was still asleep, his hand lightly touching yours, mouth parted open a bit and his hair now messy as a piece of his face in his face. Everything about him just felt perfect and the moment felt perfect.

“I can feel you staring at me and it’s rude.” he mumbled in his sleep, feeling your eyes on him causing you to giggle as he pulled you in

“Well I’m sorry Mr. Perfect. You just have such a beautiful face, nice features I can’t help but stare.” you told him before giving him a kiss. Pulling away, the two of you stared at each other for a small moment. Nothing but silence between you two before you spoke up again

“What’s going through that head of yours? I can see the gears in your head tuning and overworking.” you said to him while rubbing his hand, trying to calm him down

“Nothing, just thinking about how much I love you. I know we’ve only been dating for a year, but I wanted you to know that I don’t think I could imagine myself anywhere else or with anyone else.” he said before continuing

“I promise you I will never go away. I’m going to be with you every single day, by your side, and how we’ll work out every single one of our problems when we run into them until we’re old and gray. I didn’t think I’d meet someone like you and I’ve waited for it to meet someone like you. I want to be with you until the end when we’re old and gray.” he said

When he said that you could help but kiss him. He wasn’t shocked to say the least but he returned the favor and kissed you back. Pulling away, your foreheads touching as he gave you one last peck. Everything in that moment felt right as he held you in silence

You knew that’s where you should’ve been cautious. Making promises that you can’t keep like the ones he made. The only promises he was capable of making that he fulfilled were protecting you when it came to feeling unsafe at times and coming back home from long roadies. You never suspected anything because you always thought everything would be alright, especially if he was out with Beau or any of his other friends but sometimes they never suspected anything either. You didn’t blame them seeing that you weren’t dating them or anything but it would’ve been nice for them to tell you what happened sometimes. Now you were thinking about everything all over again even though you promised yourself you wouldn’t give into any thoughts of him no matter what and tried to block it all off.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart"

Mr. "Leaves me all alone, " I fall apart

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

Your relationship with Mat was odd to say. You both understood that there were days that you needed to be alone even if you wanted to help each other. It was worse with Mat because he would hold everything back most of the time and not tell you what’s going on with him. The worst was when he would get up and leave. It felt like someone had just stabbed you and all you could do was just go lay down and think about every small thought that could make you cry.

Your friends have helped you get over him when you two broke it off, after allowing yourself to wallow and take time for yourself. The hardest was having to wake up in a bed alone without him holding you, his hand on your leg, or your head on his chest.

It’s been 2 weeks since he called it off. 2 weeks since you’ve seen his face that wasn’t on the tv. You knew you had to get over him sometime but every time you saw him or someone had mentioned him, your heart broke all over again. Anthony has tried calling you multiple times to see what happened and why Mat was in a mood during practices and games. You didn’t have the heart to tell him what happened seeing that it should be Mat who does so. You didn’t know whether or not it was worth watching the games and hockey entirely anymore. It annoyed Mat whenever the team and wags asked about you and why you weren’t going to any home games, or why you were never answering any messages they’ve sent. He would simply just ignore them or pretend that he didn’t hear.

“Hey so is Y/N coming to celebrate? We haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Yeah, we miss her.”

“Well she’s busy so you won’t be seeing her anytime soon” Mat finally snapped

Everyone stayed quiet after that and didn’t ask anymore questions as they left to go celebrate. You knew that they would be celebrating due to the fact that they’re one step closer to going to the playoffs. You haven’t done anything other than manage to hide the fact that you got your heart broken and have to force yourself to get out of your bed since those 2 weeks. Your friends have come and checked up on you but they knew that you needed space and will come out on your own.

Hello, Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breakin' mine?

Mr. "Always at the right place at the right time," baby

Hello, Mr. "Casually cruel"

Mr. "Everything revolves around you"

I've been Miss Misery since your goodbye

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

You’d never thought you’d run into him again, especially seeing and remembering his schedule all the time and the routes he takes. It wasn’t your fault you ran into him and it wasn’t his either. Mat had spotted you hiding in between the fruits and vegetables. You had no choice but to face him seeing that you didn’t want to cause a scene by running away and leaving everything. He still looked the same but his hair was a little longer and some stubble of his beard was growing in. Mat couldn’t help but smile at the way you looked. He always thought that you could be wearing a garbage bag and still look beautiful. There wasn’t any between the two of you other than the faint music playing from the speakers

“Hey.” he said with a smile

“Hi.” you answered, voice barely above a whisper and trying to avoid looking at him

“How have you been? It’s been awhile since what happened and I wanted to see how you were” mat asked knowing it was probably a stupid question seeing that he broke your heart

“I’ve been okay. You know always busy with school and work” lie

It wasn’t entirely a full lie seeing you’ve been doing your schoolwork and going but you haven’t been to work since those few weeks

“That’s good”

“How have you been? I heard about your recent win” you asked him wanting to change the subject and quickly finish the conversation

“I’m doing great, and yeah no one suspected that I’d make the goal but you know, guess I was lucky. Just really glad that Nelson was there with the assist to help me out before shooting” he chuckled a bit. He’s been shooting goals and living his dream while you drown in your own misery by listening to your depression playlists on repeat and going back into old habits. Mat could see that you were lying but he didn’t want to say anything. The most he could do was nod and smile knowing how much he hurt you

“That’s good. Always knew that you could make any shot no matter the situation. Always at the right place and the right time.” you smiled trying not to tear up knowing that he’s living his best life at the moment. He smiled back and was about to say something before you both got interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing

“It was nice seeing you again Mat. Hope you win the cup this year.” you tell him while giving a small smile before leaving

Mr. "Never told me why"

Mr. "Never had to see me cry"

Mr. "Insincere apology so he doesn't look like the bad guy"

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

Trying to wrap around everything that happened the day he broke up with you hurt but you had to figure out why he did it. The thing about Mat was that he sometimes would never tell you how he was feeling and you’d have to read off the signals he was giving from his body language and at times he was good at hiding those too. One moment you were getting ready to go out then next you’re at Julie’s crying into her shirt as she rubbed your back.

Taking days off where you just needed to focus on yourself were always needed. The entire day you wouldn’t use your phone, unless it was an emergency, and you would try to treat yourself to a good day. You’ve managed to go to the gym and workout not caring if people were staring at you, you went out for a nice lunch and decided to try something you’ve never had before. It was going well until during your lunch you saw him again. He was by himself and at his stuff with him which meant he must’ve come out of practice. He hasn’t changed much since the grocery store but this time you knew he had a girlfriend. Mat must’ve known you were staring at him because he looked up as soon as you got up to leave and waved you over to join him. It’s not like you hated him with a passion, it’s just you still didn’t feel comfortable or confident enough to ask him why he wanted to break things off.

“Hey Y/N, it’s good to see you again” Mat said with a smile as you sat down

“It’s good to see you too.” you said back to him trying to hide the fake smile

“So how’s everything” you asked him trying to make it less awkward

“Um, before we talk, I just wanted to apologize. I know I wasn’t the best boyfriend when we were together but I’m trying to change. Before you interrupt and say something, save it. I was wrong to hurt you like that”

You didn’t know what to say and sat there shocked. It was hard to tell whether or not he truly meant it due to his body language but you brushed it off and told him it was fine

“Mat, don’t worry you know. It happens. So what is going on? How’s hockey? I see pre-seasons about to start” “Yes it is and I know this season we’re going to make the playoffs and win the cup” He started as you began to zone off. You couldn’t help but realize that he was just like the rest of them; every other guy you’ve dated or even went on one date with.

Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

And I never got past what you put me through

But it's wonderful to see that it never fazed you

Social media was sometimes cruel to you but it wasn’t their fault entirely that people decided to post about their personal lives on there. You haven’t really checked anything in a month thinking it was best to limit social media for your own mental health. Occasionally you would check for any news but otherwise it was for the best to delete them all. It was a good breather. No one has tried contacting you about any celebrity gossip that was happening. You knew your friends would post pictures of you (with your permission of course) but other than that, they completely respected your choice of not posting or liking anything.

You were currently out with some friends for lunch after a long week of being busy and needing a day to each other. They were telling you all about everything that’s going on in their life and were about to show you pictures from their siblings' wedding. When one of them handed you their phone, your finger hit the home button again and took you to the top of the timeline. As soon as it hit the top, you felt your heart stop and drop all the way down to your stomach. It was Mat with his arm around a girl as they both laughed and looked each other in the eyes. You knew he’d move on quickly but you didn’t know exactly when they got together. Julie was the first one to notice your face and took the phone from your hands to see what made you react the way you did. Everyone gathered around before looking back at you and giving you their sympathy. It wasn’t their fault that they still followed him on social media and you had no problem with it, it was what you heard ended up being true.

“Babe, i’m so-”

“No, it's fine. I mean he’s allowed to move on. People don't always move on at the same time and if that’s how quickly he moves on, then that’s okay. You know? I need to focus on myself. That means taking my time to heal whether it ends up being weeks, a month, or a year. I’m taking my own time to find myself. I’ve overheard him talking to someone from when I ran into him and Anthony but it’s nothing now.” you let out all in one breath as your friends sat there in silence as you handed them their phone back.

The rest of the lunch no one bothered to open their phone unless it was their work, family, etc. they kept glancing at you throughout the entire lunch to see if they were able to read your face and how you were really feeling but they couldn’t get anything. It did hurt to see him with someone new but as you said you need to pick up your heart. The thing was you couldn’t. You remembered everything from that night and at times it’ll haunt you in your dreams, everything feeling real and having to constantly relive your heartbreaking over and over again.

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Sashay your way to your seat

It's the best seat, in the best room

Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

As you came out of the hotel bathroom ready for the night, you saw Mat standing in the mirror fixing his tie. It was the night of the NHL awards where he was nominated for the Calder Rookie of the Year award. You stood there for a while admiring him as he caught your eyes in the mirror.

“You know, instead of standing there and admiring your hot boyfriend, you can help me fix this.”

“Who says I can’t do both?” you asked walking over to him and making sure that his tie was straightened and not crooked

“I’m proud of you. You deserve this award so much.”

“By the way, Tito is also coming but since he didn’t know if you agreed or not, he’s also my date.” he said holding your waist and pulling you in to kiss you to distract you

“Mmm okay. At this point I’m not shocked. Now c’mon, your family and your “date” are waiting for you in the lobby.” you told him while taking his hands off your waist and grabbing one of them to drag him to the awards before he made you both late

The awards were going by smoothly and Mat wasn’t joking when he said that Anthony was going to be there as they pretended to take pictures the way you and Mat would. You didn’t mind it though because you knew what their friendship meant to each other and knew Mat would do the same if Anthony were ever to be nominated for something this big. During his speech, he was trying not to sound smug and let his ego show, especially only being a rookie and having his whole life ahead of him within the NHL. You couldn’t help but admire the way he talked and how he stood up there from a seat that you didn’t realize how good they were until he was up there. When he came back, the smile didn’t leave his face for the rest of the night. It was another win in his book but he didn’t want to be smug about it even if you knew.

And it's really such a shame

It's such a shame

'Cause I was Miss "Here to stay"

Now I'm Miss "Gonna be alright someday"

And someday maybe you'll miss me

But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

The first person who was there for you after the break up was Julie. Your best friend who you told everything to. She knew something was wrong as soon as you were at her doorstep in the middle of the night. Julie knew something was wrong with Mat a few months before the breakup but she didn’t want to say anything to make you upset but you knew she was right and you ignored all the signs. She supported you with every decision you made afterwards and thought you were right to take time to focus on yourself before getting into another relationship. The moment you told her you were seeing some she was happy that you were moving on and told her that you were going to be okay. You were happy that you’ve got to notice what you really needed and that your life didn’t always need to revolve around a man. Mat has tried to get into contact with Julie and apologize but he was late to it. You’ve moved on from him and he needed to know.

Goodbye, Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breakin' mine?

Mr. "Always at the right place at the right time," baby

Goodbye, Mr. "Casually cruel"

Mr. "Everything revolves around you"

I've been Miss Misery for the last time

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

“How do you feel?” Julie asked as you looked in the mirror for the last time

“Honestly? I still feel upset but it’s time to move on and go ahead with my life. He’s no longer dating me and I’ve accepted it but I’ve met someone new and he’s all that’s on my mind” you told her with smile on your face while turning to face her

“I’m proud of you. You’ve been Miss Misery for the last time and now you’ve grown up.” Julie faked cried but still feeling proud

“I feel like it too. He’s moved on and his heart doesn’t seem to be broken and mine is on the mend and forgetting about him. I just know that he’s perfectly fine the way he is and I don’t need it anymore. I felt like being with him, I was always in the shadows and I know he’s a professional hockey player, but I felt like there was just never time for “just us” like it always felt like it only revolved around him and I didn’t need that anymore.” you smiled while letting out a deep breath.

You're perfectly fine

Mr. "Look me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

You said you'd never go away

He promised and he always told himself he’ll keep the promise of never going away and fulfill it someday. Sometimes when you meet someone that’s what you think, but sometimes it never does and they break your heart in the end

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fic #mat barzal blurb #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal x reader #mat barzal angst #mat barzal fanfic #mat barzal fanfiction #new york islanders #new york isles #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl

281 notes · View notes

miracleonice87 · 3 years

Text

Cape Cod Confessions - Kevin Hayes

a/n: this one hit me outta nowhere and I blame my Philly loves @broadstbroskis and @princessphilly for enabling me 😉😘 (jk you know I adore you.) writing this one actually made writing feel fun again. I'm grateful for that. also hey, I'm writing for Kevin Hayes now! keep that in mind for the next prompt list lol.

warnings: I think just swearing. also heads up, this is an OC. I like them and I ain't sorry.

word count: 4.4K+

_____

The familiar scene in the yard of Kate’s parents’ summer home on Cape Cod would normally fill her with contentment and peace, as all her family and closest, lifelong friends were gathered together in celebration. Her brother was marrying his college sweetheart in twenty-four hours, and Kate had every reason to be happy.

Today, though, after not being part of such an occasion for many months due to work obligations back in Seattle, Kate felt strange pangs of guilt and discomfort. Days like today made her wonder why she had ever left Boston in the first place.

And seeing her childhood best friend Kevin manning the grill, his nieces and nephews hanging from his long limbs as he promised them he would play with them as soon as the food was finished, made her wonder why she had ever left him in the first place.

How she had ever left him in the first place.

Kate was still lost in her own thoughts when, from across the lawn, she heard a shrill scream, followed by an ecstatic, “Auntie Kate!”

Her goddaughter Neila’s voice was unmistakable, and Kate set her purse on the grass just in time to catch Neila on her running jump, all the way from her Uncle Kevin straight into Kate’s arms. Pure joy flooded Kate’s soul as she caught Neila, giggling, and held the little girl to her chest.

“My beautiful Nene!” Kate exclaimed, kissing her cheek. “I missed you!”

Neila pulled back, pushing her hair away from her face. “I missed you, too,” she said sincerely before throwing her arms around Kate’s neck again.

A moment later, Neila wriggled out of Kate’s hold and turned toward the crowd of family and friends on the patio.

“Auntie Kate is here!” Neila announced, eliciting chuckles from the adults. Except for one — Kevin, whose eyes had already been glued to Kate since his niece’s initial squeal upon discovering her arrival. He’d turned his back on the grill to find his niece holding onto Kate’s hands and hopping backwards in an effort to pull her to join the party on the patio.

Kevin looked on as Kate threw her head back in laughter, and he felt the sort of distinct happiness that he only found when Kate was near. He couldn’t stop staring, mesmerized by how radiant she looked in her lilac sundress, with her curls thrown over her shoulders… that is, he couldn’t stop staring until his brother clapped him hard on the shoulder.

“Steaks are gonna burn, Kev,” Jimmy said loudly in order to bring Kevin back down to earth. Kevin simply nodded and turned back to the grill. Jimmy’s eyes traveled to where Kate stood reuniting with her immediate family, and a soft smile found his lips.

“She looks beautiful, no?” Jimmy spoke into Kevin’s ear, more softly this time. He was always more than willing to publicly embarrass his little brother when it came to an array of subjects. But Kate wasn’t one of them. Jimmy wouldn’t dare.

Kevin only nodded, again. Jimmy squeezed his shoulder, then scooped up his little son in his arms and headed to see his old friend.

Kate’s parents, her older brother Patrick, and his fiancée Joelle had just finished taking turns greeting her with hugs when, over her brother’s shoulder, she spotted Jimmy carrying Beau.

“Baby Beau!” Kate gasped, holding out her hands as Beau smiled and reached out for her. “Who let you get this big?!” she questioned as she took him in her arms. He simply giggled and laid his head on her shoulder.

“Hello, Kathleen Paige,” Jimmy greeted, using her full name as he had for Kate’s entire life, no matter how much she had hated the Irish moniker as a young kid.

“Hi, J,” she replied fondly, leaning in so that he could wrap her in a hug and plant a kiss to her forehead. “Your boy is getting way too big,” she told him, tickling Beau’s belly and making him laugh.

“Tell me about it,” Jimmy said. “How are you? You look great.”

Kate glanced downward, tucking some hair behind her ear.

“Thanks. I’m okay,” she replied uncharacteristically dryly, switching Beau to her other arm. “It’s good to be home,” she added without elaboration.

Jimmy nodded in understanding.

“It’s good to have you home,” he agreed, then tilted his head toward the house. “Kristen’s inside. She can’t wait to see you.”

Kate beamed at the mention of Jimmy’s wife, one of her closest friends for years now.

“I can’t wait, either,” she said, just as Beau reached back toward his dad, making them both laugh. “Here, take your mini me. I’m gonna go finish my rounds,” she told him as her eyes flickered in search of the younger Hayes brother.

Jimmy retrieved his son and smirked down at her, his own eyes dancing.

“You do that,” he encouraged, teasing in his tone.

Kate rolled her eyes, but, just as Jimmy had anticipated, she headed straight toward the barbecue next, passing at least a dozen other people who had been waiting to see her.

“Hey, grill master,” she said, her hand gently coming to rest on Kevin’s back.

Her touch took him by surprise, and he nearly fumbled the tongs in his hands as he turned to greet her, his tall frame towering over hers.

“Hey, Katie girl,” he spoke, and Kate realized just how much she had missed that voice speaking those very words. She could only grin like an idiot.

Kevin pulled Kate in, his arms crushing her against his chest, and she hugged his waist as she felt his heartbeat against her ear.

“Missed you,” she said simply.

“Missed you, too, Kate,” Kevin said, his voice rumbling against her cheek. She pulled back to look up at him with a relieved sigh as he grinned at her.

And in that moment, she finally felt some of the contentment and peace she’d been searching for.

_____

Hours later, after the cookout lunch and the rehearsal dinner, when the attention-commanding nieces and nephews had long been put to bed, Kevin found Kate where he’d always found her on summer nights at the Cape — down at the boathouse, her feet dangling above the water, her short stature prohibiting them from actually being submerged.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” he found himself saying — immediately followed by an internal monologue of, God, Kevin, why are you so fucking lame?

Despite his pathetic attempt at humor, Kate still smiled up at him.

“I knew you’d find me eventually,” she replied, letting her gaze drift back across the water.

Kevin hummed in response as he set down the pair of beers he’d brought and took a seat on the dock beside her.

“I’m surprised you’re not with the girls,” Kevin said. “They’re up there poppin’ bottles in the kitchen.”

She laughed softly at the thought. “Nah, just needed some time to think,” she told him.

Kevin nodded, knowing not to press any further if Kate wasn’t feeling forthcoming.

“Well, I come bearing beers,” he said, offering her one of the bottles.

With a grateful sigh, she murmured a “thank you,” and accepted the cold beverage. And that was just another item that fell somewhere in the middle of the long list of reasons why Kevin adored her — because she never needed champagne or an apple martini or a Mai Tai. A beer that matched his always suited her just fine.

Kevin was smiling at the thought, and when Kate caught him, he quickly saved face by lifting his bottle in the air.

“A toast,” he announced. “To Pat and Joelle.”

She nodded, lifting her beer toward his. “To Pat and Joelle,” she echoed, clinking the neck of her bottle against his. “Cheers.”

Kate took a long pull, looking back across the cape, and after a few silent moments, Kevin casually reached for her ankles and swept her legs atop his lap, his free hand resting on her shin. It certainly wasn’t anything unusual — anyone who knew Kate and Kevin and their relationship knew that they had always been affectionate with one another. (So much so, in fact, that on many occasions, Jimmy had muttered, “Jesus Christ, just fuck already.”) But it had been so long since he had initiated such a gesture that Kate would have been lying if she said her breath didn’t catch in her throat a little.

She sniffed and made work of picking at the label on her bottle, trying to act as cool and collected as possible.

“You look great, Katie,” Kevin eventually piped up, interrupting the silence and making Kate feel somehow more nervous and more at ease all at once. She tucked her chin to her chest with a breathy chuckle. “I mean it,” he added earnestly. “I should’ve said it before, but… anyway, just wanted to tell you now.”

She tilted her head up to look at him, and Kevin had to remind himself to breathe as she shot him her famous pursed-lipped smile, pushed to one side of her mouth.

“Thanks, Kev,” Kate said softly. “You do, too.”

“How’s work?” he asked, assuming that he’d be posing a simple, run-of-the-mill question, one that might lighten the mood and give his heart rate a chance to slow a bit.

But Kate snorted, lowering her bottle from her lips after a swig. “What work?” she asked cynically.

Kevin’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

She cleared her throat, turning to face the full moon instead of him. “The magazine shut down,” she finally admitted. “It’s been almost a month now, I guess.”

And for once in his life, Kevin was speechless.

Kate had started working for the small, independently-owned Pacific Northwest tourism magazine five years ago — the publication was the whole reason she’d moved to Seattle in the first place. She was so proud of her photography that was featured in each issue, and so was Kevin — though Kate didn’t know it, he had subscribed to the magazine after her first photo was featured in an issue early in her time on staff. And since the monthly magazines were mailed to his place in Philly and not in Dorchester, he realized that he would have had no way of knowing about the shutdown if it weren’t for Kate directly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kevin asked gently, concern evident in his tone.

She shrugged. “Not something I really felt like talking about this weekend,” she replied, rubbing her hands along her upper arms to warm them from the cool ocean breeze. “Not necessarily something I was all that proud of.”

Kevin’s heart sank. “But it isn’t your fault, Kate,” he said, squeezing her calves. “You didn’t have any control over the magazine going under.”

She heaved a sigh. “I know, but…” she began, tipping her head back wearily, “it just feels like everything’s crashing down around me in Seattle. Half a dozen of my friends have moved away in the last year, my freelance clients are dwindling seemingly by the day because everybody and their mother think they can be their own photographer, and now the magazine’s gone. It just feels like I’m failing at everything, Kev. Failing at life.”

“Hey,” Kevin said firmly — immediately. He nudged her chin with his thumb so that she was looking straight at him, those sea blue eyes of his suddenly the only thing she could focus on, as all of her self-doubt was washed away, even before he continued to speak. “You are not failing. You’re 28 years old. This is just a part of growing up, Kate,” he assured. “This shit happens to everyone. Remember when I got shipped to Winnipeg and then to Philly so quick? I went through the same shit. I felt like nobody wanted me, like I couldn’t do anything right. But it got better. It always does, Katie. Especially for people with as good a heart as you.”

Kate sniffled, wiping at a lone stray tear with her knuckle.

“Thanks, Kev,” she said softly, followed by a few more quiet sniffles. “You’re the best. Reasons why I love you,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Kevin’s brows lifted and his eyes widened as he looked at her, wondering if he’d just heard her correctly.

As with the physical touch, it had always been this way with Kate and Kevin when it came to their long-simmering feelings for one another. One of them would slip up and say some shit like “I love you” or “you’re so hot” or “come home with me,” and then try to play it off or walk it back, while the other person was left reeling, unsure of whether or not the other had truly meant what they’d said.

“I mean, you know, like I—”

“I love you, too, Kate,” Kevin said without hesitation, not walking anything back, interrupting Kate’s hopeless stuttering.

She glanced at him, taking a few chugging sips of her beer, and shook her head.

“No, you don’t,” she asserted flatly. “You’ve had a lot to drink. So have I. It’s a wedding weekend and we’re—”

“No, Kate,” Kevin insisted. “I mean it. I-I love you.”

And Kate suddenly felt really dizzy, like, really dizzy, and not because of the alcohol or the day she’d spent in the sweltering July sun. Dizzy like her best friend since diapers had just fully admitted that he love loved her in a manner far more sincere and more convincing than all those other times before.

“I… I gotta go to bed, Kev. Big day tomorrow,” Kate said abruptly. She drew a deep breath, swung her legs out from beneath Kevin’s hold, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before pushing herself up from the dock and heading for the steps. “‘Night.”

_____

“You did what?!” Jimmy asked on the golf course the next morning, coughing as he nearly choked, not because of his cigar smoke, but due to pure shock upon hearing his brother’s declaration.

“I told her I loved her,” Kevin said. “And she told me I was just drunk, and I told her I wasn’t, and then she went back to the house.”

“I think I need to lie down,” said Keith Yandle, Kate and Kevin’s mutual lifelong family friend, as he dramatically took a seat in the golf cart.

Jimmy stood slack-jawed in front of Kevin, waiting for more.

“And?!” he finally prompted.

Kevin shrugged. “And I haven’t talked to her all morning,” he said, earning groans from Jimmy, Keith, and Noel Acciari, another longtime member of the crew. “But I don’t regret it. And I’m bringing it up again tonight.”

“At her brother’s wedding? What, are you nuts?” Jimmy accused.

“No, that’s perfect,” Keith bellowed. “You know how girls get about weddings. All gooey and shit. Just get her a couple drinks at the reception. She’ll cop to loving your sorry ass, too. We all know she does. This has only been about three decades in the making.”

Kevin hated to admit it, but Keith was right, and he knew that Jimmy knew it, too, as Jimmy stood with his hands on his hips, sighing as he exhaled cigar smoke.

“Alright, fine,” Jimmy said, putting his hands up and rounding the golf cart to take the driver’s seat. “That’s not your worst idea ever, Yands. And you know what, Kev? I’m proud of ya. I wasn’t sure ya had it in ya.”

Kevin let out a singular chuckle and adjusted his golf hat.

“Neither was I.”

_____

“He said what?!” Kristen said loudly from the makeup chair as Kevin’s sister Justine squealed in the hair chair next to Kate’s.

“He told me he loved me,” Kate replied incredulously, still not convinced that last night was anything more than some fever dream. “Like, actually loved me. And I didn’t say it back. Because I’m an asshole.”

“No, you’re not,” Kristen assured firmly as Justine waved Kate off. “He caught you off guard, that’s all. You’ll have plenty of time this weekend to make it up to him,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Justine flung out an arm and squeezed Kate’s elbow.

“Wait, are you gonna say it back?” she asked in a sharp whisper.

Kate just pursed her lips, smiling crookedly.

_____

“Jesus fuck,” Kevin muttered as Kate walked into the narthex of the church to be lined up for the walk down the aisle. Noel elbowed him in the ribs.

“We’re in a church, bud,” Noel muttered. “You’re gonna get struck down, and I’m gonna be standing next to you when it happens.”

Kevin barely heard him as he watched Kate approach her brother, who let out a “wow” at her appearance and pulled her in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Wow was putting it lightly. Her hair was left long and curled, save for a few pieces pinned back from her face, and she donned an elegant, v-neck, pale blue bridesmaid dress that appeared to have been designed just for her. Her makeup, though simple, was flawless, accentuating her strong features, making her hazel eyes, in particular, impossible not to notice.

Kevin had never seen Kate look more stunning in all his life. And that was saying something.

Kate turned toward the groomsmen next, her eyes immediately locking with Kevin’s, despite Jimmy’s wolf whistle and Noel’s “damn, Katie.”

She shot them both an eyeroll before refocusing on Kevin.

“Hi,” she said dumbly.

“Hi,” Kevin repeated. “You look beautiful, Kate. Perfect.”

There was that pushed-to-one-side, pouted-lip smile that made Kevin’s pulse race.

“Thanks, Kev,” she replied. “You look really handsome.”

Kevin gave her a grateful smile, then took a step closer to her.

“Can we talk later?” he asked, softly enough that he hoped no one else could hear and then subsequently give him shit for asking such a middle school question. His breath against her ear sent shivers through Kate, and his low tone made her mouth go dry.

She nodded, looking up at him doe-eyed and unable to form a single word. He nodded, too, and before she knew it, he was reaching for her hand, brushing a soft kiss against the top of it, and giving it a quick squeeze.

Kate didn’t have a chance to overanalyze his actions because the wedding planner quickly marched through the group, announcing that Patrick and his groomsmen needed to make their way to the altar for the start of the ceremony. Kate stepped forward to pull her older brother in for one last hug and a few whispered sentiments, then she smiled shyly at Kevin, smoothing her hand over his lapel as she passed, unaware of the knowing smile that Jimmy and Kristen shared watching the two of them.

_____

Back at her parents’ house for the reception, Kate was well on her way to a hangover for her flight back to Seattle tomorrow. Naturally, she’d been seated next to Kevin at the head table, and though the two of them hadn’t yet found time for an actual conversation, they each knew it was coming, which only increased the number of trips they’d both already made to the open bar.

After the meal, Pat and Joelle were invited to the dance floor in the middle of the yard, beneath twinkling string lights and the glow of the moon, and the strains of “Marry Me” by Train came over the sound system, filling the salty air with the peaceful guitar melody.

Kate’s jaw dropped just slightly, but enough for Kevin to take notice.

“That asshole,” she whispered.

Kevin held back a laugh at her reaction to this significant, romantic moment in her brother’s life.

“What?” he asked quietly.

“This is my wedding song,” she told Kevin incredulously, putting her hand to her chest. “I’ve said that since I was, like, in middle school. He knows that.”

Kevin wasn’t sure if it was the drinks or how breathtaking Kate looked or the feelings he’d long been pushing down finally bubbling over, now that he had let his little confession slip last night, but he suddenly heard himself say, “We can use it, too. Nobody’ll remember by then.”

Kate stiffened in her chair and snapped her head toward him.

“What?” it was her turn to whisper.

“Oh, come on, Kate,” Kevin said, sipping his whiskey casually. “Let’s not kid ourselves. That’ll be us up there someday.”

And there was that goddamn smile of hers again — Kevin knew she was trying so hard not to pull a full-on, megawatt grin, which was fine by him because he was perfectly happy with this version. Preferred it, actually.

She cleared her throat and shook her head.

“Don’t hold your breath, Kev,” Kate replied lightheartedly. But her tone was… less than convincing, some might say. Even less convincing was the way she almost imperceptibly leaned closer toward Kevin, whose arm rested loosely around the back of her chair.

And at that, Kevin smiled into his glass.

_____

Somehow, even in the midst of her own brother’s lively wedding reception, Kate still found her way to the boathouse. Kevin hadn’t even bothered to look for her elsewhere — once he noticed that she’d disappeared from the dance floor, he grabbed two Boston Lagers from the bar and headed for the dock.

She smirked when she heard his footsteps.

“Want some company?” he asked on his way down the wooden steps.

“Only if it’s you,” she replied, the flirtation evident in her tone.

Kevin smiled, pleased with that answer, and took his familiar spot next to her.

“Nice day, huh?” he asked, again pulling her legs across his lap before nudging the second beer into her hand.

“Really was,” Kate replied, clinking her bottle against Kevin’s for yet another toast.

They sat wordlessly for a few minutes, staring out at the water, listening to the laughs and chatter and music from the party up in the yard.

Eventually, Kevin cleared his throat, drawing Kate’s attention.

“Listen, Kate, about last night,” he began, but Kate’s anxiety spurred her to interrupt.

“No, it’s okay, Kev,” she said, shaking her head quickly. “You don’t have to explain—”

“No, I do,” Kevin insisted. “I-I don’t know if you’re getting it.”

She frowned. “Getting what?”

Kevin opened his mouth, looking into her eyes, then closed it again with a humorless chuckle.

“I meant it,” he finally said. “I said I loved you. And I meant it.”

Kate couldn’t break from his gaze despite the flipping sensation in her stomach, and despite the warmth creeping up her neck. The intensity of his stare was foreign to her — she was so used to happy, joking, jovial Kev, who never took anything too seriously. Even his earlier comment about their supposed future wedding reception had been tinged with sarcasm.

There was no ounce of him that was kidding now. That much Kate could see.

“You’re perfect for me, Kate,” Kevin continued. “You always have been.”

She blinked, tucking her loose waves behind her ear.

“Kev, I—”

“Wait, wait,” he laughed to himself, shaking his head before taking a long pull from his beer. “Listen, you gotta let me finish, because it took me this long to get this far. Okay?”

She nodded. He took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on hers.

“I love you, Kate,” Kevin said. “I love you in the worst way. The most real way. Not just some fleeting, fling-type shit. I mean, I want it all with you. Everything. The whole fuckin’ thing. Ring, wedding, babies in little ‘13’ jerseys. Nice house, a dog. Picket fuckin’ fence. I want what our parents have. And our siblings. You’re the only person I wanna share that with. Ever.”

Kate was crying now, blissfully unfazed that her mascara tears might stain her pretty makeup. Though, they didn’t, because before they could, Kevin’s thumbs had wiped them away, and after rubbing his fingers together, he smoothed his thumbs along her cheekbones.

“And I’ve always known it,” he continued. “But it took you going away and coming back for me to work up the balls to say it.”

Kate hadn’t flinched this whole time, Kevin noticed. In fact, her eyes grew brighter and her soft smile a bit more noticeable with each word he had spoken. But she had yet to utter a word. He studied her in anticipation.

“You gotta say something, Katie girl,” he said nervously. “I’m dyin’ here.”

But there was little left for her to say, she realized, and so instead, she leaned in, cupped Kevin’s neatly-bearded cheeks in her hands, and kissed him like she had never kissed a single soul before. And Kevin kissed her back, his relief evident in his tender touch, in the way he exhaled softly against her mouth.

As soon as Kate pulled her lips from his, hers curled into a breathless smile, and she leaned her forehead against his.

“I love you, too, Kevin Hayes,” she whispered, her fingers combing through the hair at the back of his head. “I’ve loved you since forever.”

“Be with me,” Kevin blurted, as if he actually needed to. “Like, officially. I wanna do this with you.”

She nuzzled her nose against his and circled her arms around his neck.

“Oh, we’re doin’ this,” Kate told him, beaming. She pressed a kiss between his brows and whispered, “Can’t get rid of me now.”

_____

Three summers later, in her parents’ yard on the Cape, Kate twirled around the dance floor to “Marry Me” by Train with a tall, reddish-brown-haired, blue-eyed boy from Dorchester, the very one she had loved since she was a little girl, long before she even fully understood what love was.

But now, Kate knew exactly what love was, because she knew Kevin.

Her newly dubbed husband leaned down to speak softly into her ear as her song continued to play.

“Remember that night we finally got together, when Pat and Joelle had their first dance here?” Kevin asked. “And I told you, ‘someday it’ll be us up there,’ and you told me not to hold my breath?”

Kate hid her face in his chest and felt her face warm, chuckling bashfully. Her recoiling only caused Kevin to hold her tighter and press a kiss to the top of her head. His thumb and forefinger found her chin and angled her face toward his.

“I’m glad I held my breath, Katie girl,” he said, his voice low.

Kate nodded, her eyes damp with unfallen tears. “I’m glad you did, too, Kev,” she said.

#kevin hayes #my writing #kevin hayes fanfiction #kevin hayes fanfic #kevin hayes fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey art #nhl fanfictin #nhl writing #k. hayes #k hayes

198 notes · View notes

intergalacticwanderer · 3 years

Text

It happened faster than any of them could react.

Overall, things had been going well. The sea monsters were on their last legs, they had the numbers with all of the Mighty Nein present, and it was only a matter of time before they’d come out on the other side. But in combat mere seconds can make all of the difference and one monster slipped through at just the wrong place and time, burying its claws into Kingsley’s back.

He swore, blood bursting from his neck and the monster’s eyes bleeding black, but it wasn't enough, the monster digging the claws in deeper and dragging him off of the ship, two of them going over the rail and into the ocean. He heard someone screaming his name, muffled through the water - and then the claws found his throat, and he didn't hear anything at all.

But something else started to happen.

He didn't know where he was. He knew, at the very least, that he wasn't in the ocean, his surroundings too indistinct and no longer able to feel the water around him. But even with being able to tell where he wasn’t, that still didn’t tell him anything about where he was. In fact, the only source of light Kingsley could see was - himself?

He looked down, startled, and saw that his own form seemed to be made of softly glowing light, a strange in between of tangible and intangible, floating in place. He... he didn’t understand. What was this? Kingsley raised a hand, both confused and awed at the sight.

The fingers began to disintegrate right in front of him.

He recoiled at the sight and the hand - HIS hand - broke apart even further, the once distinct outline now breaking into individual motes of light that slowly drifted away. He scrabbled with his other hand, as if to try and staunch a bleeding wound, but all that did was scatter the remaining bit of light from the hand even faster and he yanked his arm back. To his horror it was happening on other parts of his body as well, chunks carving out and being eaten away, motes continuing to drift, like paper burning into embers, or scattering sea foam, or or or - It felt like he should be hyperventilating. Was he hyperventilating? There wasn’t any sound, he couldn’t tell, could he even-?

Kingsley tried to hold on to his thoughts but they began to disintegrate too, and that realization, the fact that he could feel that happening, sent a bolt of terror through him even greater than the sight of what was happening to his body. He twisted in place, panic rising higher and higher as his body continued to disintegrate, looking for something, anything around him, but. Nothing.

The remaining parts of his legs and tail separated from his torso, stomach now gone, and while it felt like there should have been sound it continued to be completely silent, his thoughts reeling and disoriented as the parts spun away, quickly dissolving and scattering. What was- he couldn’t- who-

Further light scattered and so did his memories. His thoughts. His name. He drifted, motes rising up from near his eyes. Something from eyes. Tears? He didn’t know. Couldn't know. He was small, getting smaller, too small, no stop pleasenoPLEASESTOPNOPLEASE-

Sensation and clarity of thought slammed into him.

Kingsley (Kingsley!) gasped in a breath of air, coughing and shuddering. He was cold. Wet. Someone was holding him, cradling him between arms, one under his shoulders, the other under his knees, and his tail was dangling, limp. He blinked open his eyes. Two faces were directly above him, and there were glimpses of others in his peripheral, just out of direct sight but hovering close. The first face he could see was Fjord, wet hair clinging to his face and breathing heavily. He... he was the one holding him, wasn’t he. The second was Jester, shaking hands hovering over his chest and a faint shimmer fading from the air. He met her eyes.

“Jester...?”

A sharp inhale, and then a laugh, which turned into a heavy, wracking sob, and Jester buried her face into his chest and continued to cry. Others poured in then, crowding close with words of worry and comfort, but Kingsley barely heard them, still too stunned and numb from all that had just happened, and he didn’t react at all.

***

Over the next few days, Kingsley found himself in the company of at least one other member of the Mighty Nein at all times.

Fjord asked him for more advice and assistance around the ship. Jester sought him out even more than normal to ask about drawings, or tattoo ideas, or ship gossip. Caduceus invited him meditate. Caleb and Essek just happened to read their books nearby. Beau dragged him along to sparring practice, his complaints that he didn't even fight hand to hand normally falling on deaf ears. Yasha ended up clinging to him during sleep (though, in that case, he had been the one to initiate at least half of those). And Veth - well, he was pretty sure Veth was just straight up spying on him, but he didn't really begrudge her that.

Usually, Kingsley would have found the hovering his friends were doing to be suffocating, but this time? He sought their company right back, determined to not be alone.

There was no way around it - he had died. Full stop. That would have been bad enough on it's own but of course he had an... interesting relationship with death and revival, and it didn’t escape him that Jester had only started crying once he’d said her name. Like she’d been waiting to hear what his first word would be.

Wondering if that word was going to be “empty.”

He couldn’t tell if that made him feel better or worse. Better because they obviously cared about him, wanted him to be okay and to be the one to come back. Worse, because, well. Last time he’d been the one to come back saying empty. And they had to have gotten that fear from somewhere.

He sighed, pulling the blanket around his shoulders closer as he sat on the deck, watching the bright light of Catha above in the sky. Everyone was out on the deck at that moment, quietly talking after a late night meal and Caleb's dancing lights softly illuminating things along with the moonlight.

The main thing eating at him was the time in between falling into the ocean and the revivify spell, and he shuddered involuntarily at his mind’s word choice. He still didn't understand what that had been, but whatever it was it’d been terrifying, too strange to fall under normal experience and too vivid to “just” be a strange dream. The closest thing he had... his fingers tightened on his blanket. His reoccurring dream- nightmare- memory. Fighting in Cognouza, fighting back against Lucien, breaking free. Drifting away with hundreds of other lights. Drifting...

“Can I ask you all a question?”

Eight other heads turned to him, conversations stopping, and he had to fight to not shrink away. He was the one who’d asked.

“Kind of a morbid one but, wondering about who else has died here. You all know a lot more than me right now.”

He knew of a few past deaths. Glory Run Road. Those in... Cognouza. He wasn’t particularly fond of thinking about any of those from his perspective, however. Better to hear stories from others.

Several of them glanced between each other. Essek was the first to speak up.

“Personally, I have been lucky enough to not require any resurrection magic, and I hope it will remain that way in the future. I believe the same is true for Beauregard?”

Beau nodded. “Yeah. It’s gotten close a couple times but I’ve never actually died. Still kinda shocked at that, honestly.”

“I think I’ve died in a dream? Or maybe it was a vision...?” Yasha said, and when she got multiple confused looks she shrugged. “It was a trial from the Stormlord? I’m not really sure if it counts.”

“Let’s call it an in between,” Kingsley said.

“There’s the time I drowned and came back as a goblin,” Veth said quietly and the mood immediately dropped. She took a long drink from her cup. “And I guess there was also that time in the Happy Fun Ball.”

“Which is why we always check for traps,” Caleb said, giving her a pointed look.

Veth waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Checking blast radius is also important,” Caduceus said, sipping on his cup of tea. “I was too close to an exploding crossbow bolt once,” Caduceus said matter of fact, and Kingsley was gobsmacked at how serene Caduceus was at having literally been blown up. Then again, it was Caduceus, so he shouldn't be that surprised.

Veth bristled. “Hey!”

“Not assigning any blame, just stating what happened,” Caduceus said and he took another sip.

Three people left, and he already knew what the answer could be from two of them. Jester met his eyes and he gave her a little nod. He was okay with them talking about it.

“The only one I’ve had was when we were fighting Lucien,” Jester said, hands resting in her lap. “It happened really fast, but Caduceus got me back up, and Fjord protected both of us. It was still pretty scary, though.”

“I also went down to Lucien, but later in the fight,” Caleb said. Essek looked particularly miserable at the reminder and Caleb gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. “But the Mighty Nein does not leave anyone behind, so I was okay. And the same is true for you,” Caleb said, giving Kingsley a meaningful look and a nod.

Kingsley nodded back, relieved both at the reassurance and the reminder that they never considered him to be the same as Lucien. Sometimes that was enough against the images of them lifeless below him.

(Sometimes.)

Fjord was the last one left, and he downed the rest of his drink before looking Kingsley directly in the eye.

“I died the first time we were attacked by Uk’otoa’s minions.”

Kingsley gave a start. “Wait, really?”

Fjord nodded. “Really.”

“But- that doesn't make sense.” Fjord was the captain and Uk’otoa attacks, those were just- they were just a thing. An annoying and very dangerous thing, sure, but what had happened to him, that was his fault, he hadn't been careful enough, or-

“Kingsley.”

Fjord still held his gaze, not looking away. “What happened the other day is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine.”

“It totally is,” Veth added in and Fjord sighed.

“Regardless, don't blame yourself. I died to just the same thing and it can happen to any of us. And taking care of this problem is why we’re all on the ship right now anyway.”

“Cheers to that,” Beau said, raising her cup in a toast. “I’ve had enough murder fish for my lifetime.”

There was murmured agreement around the group, several others draining their cups and Kingsley staring at the bottom of his when he finished. So that was six. Two thirds of the Mighty Nein had died at least once, himself included, and Fjord even had a similar cause of death to this last time. Definitely not alone. And yet...

“Do you remember anything? From when you died?”

He didn't look up from his cup but he could just imagine the amount of eyes that would be staring at him right now. Whatever, it was already out there.

“A little,” Fjord said. “Mostly just that it was cold, and feeling scared, but...” Fjord’s voice softened and Kingsley looked over at the change in tone. “I also feel like the Wildmother would have been there to catch me. And that’s comforting in its own way.”

Kingsley nodded, mind going back to the scent of a warm sea breeze. Even though he wasn't a follower himself he knew of the comfort that Fjord spoke of.

Which just made him feel even more miserable in that moment.

“So... nothing else? No kind of visions or anything?” No disintegrating and losing everything while completely alone? His voice cracked a little, no longer able to hide his anxiety.

“Nothing in particular.” Fjord frowned. “...are you alright, Kingsley?”

“... not really, no.” He was too worn out to lie at this point and he hunched over, pulling his blanket even tighter.

“Is that what happened to you Kingsley? A vision?” Jester asked.

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know, vision isn't quite right, but- I don't know.”

“Well, how would you describe it?”

An involuntary shiver ran up his spine. “An experience, I guess? But not a good one, and if anyone ever tried to sell me that kind of ‘experience’ I’d straight up stab them.”

Kingsley went to take a drink before remembering he’d already finished his and he scowled at his empty cup. Caduceus passed over another one without a word and Kingsley murmured a small thanks, taking a long drink to wet his suddenly dry throat.

“I was made out of light or something like that? But-” His throat closed up and he had to loudly clear it to keep going. “I started to disappear. Like I was just a bunch of dandelion fluff and-” he mimed an explosion with his fingers- “poof. Just blowing away. And it wasn't just my body, it was my memories too. I think Jester got me just in time.” It took a moment for him to realize he was shaking.

“C'mere,” Yasha said quietly, moving closer and holding out an arm, Kingsley almost falling into her side and curling close. She held him in her arm and rubbed his shoulder, his shaking slowly subsiding. There was a stunned silence for several moments.

“What the fuck,” Beau breathed out, finally breaking the silence. “That’s so fucked up.”

“And concerning,” Essek said, a curled finger hovering over his mouth. “I have never heard of anything similar, even in death accounts from consecuted individuals. Caduceus?”

“I also have no idea,” Caduceus said, frowning. “Either way, that doesn't sound like how it should go. Not to me at least.”

“Or me,” Veth said, eyes wide. “Dying’s bad enough, that’s- that’s just excessive!”

“This isn’t exactly making me feel better,” Kingsley grumbled. Sure, it was commiserating, but mostly it was just reminding him of how alone he was with what happened.

Yasha squeezed his shoulder. “Well, what would make you feel better?”

“Answers,” Kingsley said without hesitation. “Just... what the hell that was. Or why it happened. Just something.” He curled further into Yasha’s side, his head and tail now the only things peeking out from under the blanket.

“I can research, but it will have to be after the voyage,” Caleb said. “I do not have a personal archive unfortunately.”

“Yet,” Essek added on, giving Caleb a quick smile. “My ability to help is limited but I could still assist with some of this research.”

“And I’ve got the Cobalt Soul stuff of course,” Beau said. “So, definitely a more long term thing but we’ll find out what we can.”

“Thanks guys,” Kingsley said quietly. He wasn’t a fan of the wait but just the chance of answers and the fact they were willing to do it still meant a lot.

All through this Fjord had had a hand on his chin, contemplative, and he looked over at both Jester and Caduceus. “Maybe you two could ask for some godly input? It’s worked before and it shouldn’t hurt at least.”

Caduceus nodded “I say it’d be worth trying out.”

Jester nodded as well. “Yeah! It’d be nice if we could get some answers right away. You want us to give it a shot Kingsley?”

“Please,” he said, latching onto the mention of ‘right away’ and pushing away the small shiver at directly asking the gods for help. That sort of thing was the entire reason he was even alive at all, but even when it was positive the idea of it still freaked him out a little. That didn’t mean he was going to pass up the help however, and he looked at the two of them expectantly.

Jester looked over at Caduceus. “You want me or you to go first?”

Caduceus gestured towards her. “You go ahead.”

“Okay!” Jester said, and Kingsley watched as she brought Sprinkle down from her shoulder and held him in front of her. “Okay Artie, if you’re there, we could really use some answers about what happened to Kingsley, it’d be suuuuper helpful.”

The moment Jester finished speaking Kingsley found himself hit with a sudden wave of tiredness, and as he slipped into sleep at Yasha’s side he saw one last glimpse of Sprinkle’s eyes flashing a brilliant green.

***

The first thing he heard was the quiet shuffling of cards.

He found himself sitting in a room. A tent? The lighting was soft, coming from a few candles scattered around the space and a lantern in the shape of a crescent moon hanging from the ceiling. Colorful cloth was draped from the walls (or was the walls, if the guess about the tent was correct), and while the colors were muted by the low light he saw it was mostly blues and purples, with a splash of red or silver here and there. The sound of shuffling cards came from the back, where a woman sat behind a low table and fanned out a set of cards in front of her, gave a satisfied nod, and shuffled the cards back into the deck, Kingsley catching a brief glimpse of one that said “The Dream” before it disappeared from view.

The woman was wearing a red coat.

She looked up, caught his eye, and smiled. “It has been awhile, has it not?”

Kingsley was unable to speak, heart in his throat but he nodded anyway. He recognized her, would recognize her anywhere, but he had never expected to actually see her again. That dream he’d had in his first day had been precious but fleeting, starting to fade even at the time and he’d resigned himself to never fully knowing what it’d been about. The two parts that had managed to stick with him were the sad angel and the woman in the red coat, and while the angel had been revealed to be Yasha no one had known anything about the woman, and over time he began to wonder if she had been based on an actual person at all. And now here she was.

She placed the deck of cards down on the table and gestured for him to come forward, Kingsley moving up to sit cross legged on a red plush cushion, setting down gingerly and his tail curling up next to him. The fact that he had fallen asleep just before this told him that this should be a dream, but at the same time it felt as if it were something more. Something important. Clasping her hands together on the table she held his gaze, expression serious.

“Normally, I would deliver this kind of message through a reading, to avoid saying too much and to allow ambiguity in the meaning. But what I must say is important enough to be blunt. Your soul is fragile, Kingsley Tealeaf.”

Kingsley swallowed hard. He didn’t know who she was, not really, but absolute truth still rang in her words. “W-what does that mean?”

“In practical terms, returning from death is far more dangerous for you than some of your friends.” She opened up her hands and in between them was a ball of softy glowing light. “If your soul is returned to life quickly enough, as it was this last time, there may not be too many complications. But if you are dead for too long...” At her words the ball of light shuddered and then it scattered just like Kingsley remembered and he flinched back, breathing heavily, having to catch himself on one of his hands as dozens of motes of light rose up around them and then dissipated. She brought her hands back together, looking at him sadly. “I am sorry you had to experience a portion of that. It is not something I would wish on anyone.”

He slowly brought his breathing back under control and righted himself on the cushion, emotions stuck between a giddy rush at the fact that Jester’s intervention seemed to have actually worked and terror at the reminder of what had happened to him. Not to mention that something was wrong with his actual soul itself, so, plenty more potential terror and possible nightmares for him there. But for right now, at least...

“Is there anything I can do to... ‘fix’ my soul? And do you know why it’s like that?”

“For your first question, it will mostly just take time.” She cupped her hands in front of her, smaller motes of light reappearing and coalescing until once again she held a ball of light, and she lifted it up to float above their heads, the space around them now brighter. “The longer it has, the better it will be. It is both as simple and as complicated as that, unfortunately.”

“As for the why...” She spread an arc of cards out on the table with one hand and smoothly flipped them over with a pass from the other, but instead of individual cards it was a picture that continued from one card to the next.

“The journey your soul has gone through is far from normal. In fact, some would say it is astonishing that it exists at all.” She trailed her finger along the edge of the card created artwork, narrating as she did so.

“Your soul began with the sundering of a different soul, life springing from death when none should have been there.” A body pulling itself halfway out of a grave, hands scrabbling on the ground, red eyes shining in the face but also on the body. “This soul fragment may have started as just one piece of a larger whole, but something important happened. It changed. And it grew.” Hands helping the purple tiefling to stand, him walking forward and gaining additional color and vitality with each step. Tattoos, jewelry, vibrant clothes, the gaudiest coat imaginable. A bright and happy smile. “The love and experiences your soul had, both good and bad, allowed it to become a full soul in its own right, separate from where it came from.” Helping out at a circus, performing. Blood flashing along blades and becoming ice in an early taste of combat. Sitting side by side, content, with a certain aasimar. Riding along in a cart with the aasimar and five other individuals, sun low on the horizon. “And then... an end.” Blood stains on snow by a road. A coat placed on a staff, fluttering in the wind. “But not the end.”

A new arc of cards was laid down and revealed below the first, with a new artwork. “The soul that yours originally came from was brought back, and it had forcibly reclaimed your soul.” Four figures standing next to an empty grave, the body of the purple tiefling rising into the air and surrounded by magic. “At first, it seemed that your soul had been subsumed.” The group of five, purple tiefling in the lead, bundled up and trudging through a harsh winter landscape. Bodies left in their wake. “But your soul had become its own, and because of that it could no longer slot neatly into place.” Two tieflings sitting across from each other, one purple, one blue, three tarot cards suspended between them. The purple tiefling standing in front of a circular gate before eight other individuals, many of them from the prior artwork. “Your soul fought back, and it eventually helped to free itself from its prison.” Screaming at those eight from a changed body, nine eye stalks coming from the back. An even more monstrous form, torn in half by its own hands.

One final set of cards was placed. Revealed.

“Your friends then attempted to return your soul. But it failed.” A body lying on the ground, partially covered by the gaudy coat and bisected by a new scar. Eyes closed. “It took a prayer to the Wildmother and her intervention for it to be successful.” The same body, standing, eyes open, the ground now covered in greenery and flowers. “However, your soul did not come out unscathed. Not broken, or missing parts, but... injured.” The body now shown as an outline, filled with glowing light. Light that was rough around the edges, shot through with spiderweb cracks. “The time it was forcibly shoved in with originating soul, and having to separate itself out from it again, was traumatic.” A large pair of hands, each hand holding a source of light, one angry and boiling, the other small and dimmed, but warm. “Still the same soul, but changed by the experience. Needing time to relearn. And to heal.” The purple tiefling sitting in a lush graveyard garden, surrounded by both flowers and friends. Sailing on a ship, hanging from the rigging and hair tossed in the wind.

She pulled back, resting her hands on the table. “Your soul is whole, and your own, but less... stable under stress, as it were. There is no way to know for sure, since it has not happened, but I suspect that if you were brought back after a longer period of death you would be in a similar state as to when you woke in the city, due to the healing your soul would need again. I do know however that your friends would do everything they could to return you from death.”

“They would,” Kingsley said, without even thinking about it. His attention was still stuck on the cards. The artwork, as stylized as it was, captured a certain life to it. It felt... real. Alive. But at the same time, something felt off. Something missing.

“Kingsley.”

He startled, as if released from a spell, and he closed his eyes and let out a long breath. When he opened his eyes again he saw her giving him a concerned look. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I, ah. Thank you?”

Her concern didn’t fade.

“Something about this troubles you.” Not a question. A statement of fact.

“Are there other art cards in that deck?” The words spilled out of him. “I mean, they’re gorgeous, and they worked really well, but, are you sure there’s not more?”

She tilted her head, gaze growing sharp.

“There are if you want there to be.”

Something about the way she said that made him pause. He looked down at the cards again. Three rows.

Three names, he realized.

The last one, Kingsley. Him. His body, his soul, himself. The second, Lucien. Most definitely not him, and she had confirmed that as well with differentiating the souls, even with the strange situation of the shared body and his nightmares. And the first... Mollymauk. A different name, a different life, but according to her, the same body. The same soul. His hand gripped his knee, nails digging in.

His soul was his, and Kingsley would fight anyone who implied otherwise or tried to take that away. He knew from experience, however, that he might not have a choice. His eyes lingered on the second set of cards. Flicked to the first for just a moment.

“... maybe not.”

She inclined her head, and nodded. Her hands hovered over the cards and he made a go ahead gesture, and she scooped them up, one, two, three rows, shuffling them back into the deck.

“I admit, I am not accustomed to speaking of things so plainly,” she said lightly as she shuffled the deck. “Partially due to preference, and partially due to limitations I am often bound to. But a prior... interloper decided to facilitate as a way to make amends.” Kingsley saw a flash of another card, this time with a silver dragon, but it was gone too quickly for him to read the title. “It is difficult to judge the character of one such as him, but he was actually the one to ask for help first.” A small laugh. “Luckily for him, this was something I had wished to do anyway. He simply made it easier.”

Kingsley was almost positive the interloper she spoke of was Artagan, but that just raised even more questions. He’d known coming into this that she was mysterious, and that she had to get her answers from somewhere, but the fact that Artagan had been the one to ask her for help?

Another shiver ran through him, even stronger than the one he had pushed away on the ship. Caduceus and Jester would go to their gods when they needed help. So that meant that if one their gods (or sort-of-god, when it came to Artagan) asked someone else for help, that person was...

“I understand if you can’t answer, but. Who are you?”

The shuffling of the cards stopped.

“Do you want to know that answer?”

She was giving him an out. It was probably even a good idea for him to take it.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t going to take it.

She smiled again and set the now shuffled deck down on the table, drawing the top card and handing it to him. Moon and mirror, with the moon facing him, though with one key difference from the card in Jester’s deck - the crescent moon was strung like a bow.

Kingsley stared at the card, heart hammering in his chest.

“...I’m really sorry, but I have no idea what that means.”

She blinked, taken aback, before noticing his slightly manic grin and she burst out laughing.

“I think you almost believed that yourself for a moment,” the Moonweaver said and she graciously accepted the card when Kingsley handed it back to her, him immediately going and sitting on his hands afterwards to hide their shaking. “Unless you’d still prefer for me to say it out loud?”

“Nope, I’m good,” Kingsley said quickly. He was totally good right now, not panicking at all, nope. He got a raised eyebrow at that response, but her smile was still there as well and she didn’t press him.

Kingsley’s leg bounced as she placed the card back into the deck, having to actively work to keep his breathing steady. On some level, he knew that his perspective on the gods and faith was a bit skewed. Fjord sailed the seas with the Wildmother’s blessing. Caduceus had performed literal miracles with the Wildmother’s help (and, once again, one of those was the entire reason he was even alive at all). Yasha was a full fledged champion of the Stormlord. And proper god or not, Jester was still outright friends with Artagan.

In comparison, his own tentative explorations towards faith and the gods had felt like they didn’t really count. He’d learned about the Moonweaver, and her commandments had resonated with him, so he’d decided to follow them. He didn’t actively worship, or ask for blessings, or go out of his way to do things on her behalf. Instead Kingsley mostly just lived his life, sending a small prayer when it felt right and taking some comfort in the light of the moons. That was it. The big stuff, that was what his friends did. They were the ones who...

He looked around at the rest of the tent again, trying to distract himself. With his new knowledge he saw nods to the Moonweaver throughout, most of the decor having been subtle enough on its own to escape attention the first time around, though, okay, maybe the lantern hanging from the ceiling was a bit on the nose. It was an understated but beautiful space, and just one more reminder that he was talking to a literal actual god right now.

Maybe that hadn’t been the best way to try and distract himself.

Her casual comment of ‘something I had wished to do anyway’ spun over and over again in his head, him trying to figure out what the hell that even meant and dread growing at what it could mean. It didn’t make sense. Why-

“Why me?”

He’d just said that out loud. Fuck.

Kingsley looked back to her and nearly jumped when he realized that she’d been staring at him the entire time, swearing several more times in his head and wondering if he’d just pissed her off. But instead of anger her expression was soft.

“Why not you?”

Whatever he’d expected to hear, it hadn’t been that.

His brain stalled. There were so many things he wanted to say in response. So many things he knew he should NOT say in response. But she hadn’t said anything else yet, simply watching him and her hands resting on the table. He slumped, bringing his hands back to his lap.

“Because I’m not actually who you think I am?”

That got him another raised eyebrow, but this time there was no accompanying smile, and he quickly continued. “I know I’ve met you before, in that dream, but that wasn’t- I wasn’t even me yet. I didn’t know who I was s-so it makes sense that you were there for someone else.” Fuck, he knew this was a bad idea, second guessing the decision of, once again, A LITERAL ACTUAL GOD, but the sour sick fear that had been growing in the background was finally too much for him to ignore.

“Mollymauk, right? You said yourself that he’s where my soul came from and what if I'm just-” His voice cracked, and he hastily scrubbed a tear away from the corner of his eye. “I know he was a follower of yours, and he did a better job than any of the half measures I’ve ever sent your way, so. That’s why not me.” Kingsley couldn’t hold her gaze anymore and he looked down, eyes boring into his lap. “And maybe you were there for me, originally, whoever I was. But I still fucked that up anyway.”

A couple frustrated tears dropped down and landed on the back of his hands, Kingsley feeling like he was about to scream. His soul was HIS. He was Kingsley. He was himself. He knew who he was. He was. He was supposed to know who he was. He...

(Breaking apart. Disintegrating. Motes of light drifting away).

A hand cupped his check and his breath hitched, and then his breathing almost stopped entirely when a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead.

“Time for that later,” she murmured, and then she was pulling back, tilting his chin up with her hand. She was kneeling in front of him, just a couple feet away and table now gone.

“Yes. Mollymauk is where your soul is from. And yes, my first visit in that dream was to see you, in part because of the sacrifices you had made in Cognouza, and in part because of a life lived in full and prior faith. But there is something important you must understand.” She held his gaze, not looking away. “You are not inferior to Mollymauk. You are not a mistake. And you do not have to fear losing yourself and becoming him, because he has already become you.”

Her hand cupped his check again, and she smiled softly.

“You are Kingsley Tealeaf. And I am so proud of all that you are.”

Mollymauk was... him?

Kingsley swayed in place. He didn’t know whether to cry, or to laugh, or what even to do at all. Instead he just sat there, feeling lightheaded at what had just happened. He wasn’t dead for disrespect. She had actually listened to him. Reassured him. Her. A god.

“I think I need to lie down,” he said weakly.

She gave a small laugh, withdrawing her hand and Kingsley slow motion flopped onto his side, before rolling to his back and staring at the ceiling. There were stars embroidered in the fabric up there. He hadn’t seen that before.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her sitting down next to him, leaning on one of her hands. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” he said. He could almost pick out some constellations in the embroidered stars.

“Good.” She played with one last tarot card in her free hand, just barely visible to him. A sun rising over a grave. Dawn.

Slowly, almost so slow that he missed it at first, the lights in the tent started dim. Eventually the only light left was a faint glow from the crescent moon lantern, and, to his quiet awe, the embroidered stars themselves, silver threads glimmering with magic.

“There are only a few more things left for me to say.”

He tilted his head to look in her direction. Even in the low light he could still see her clearly, and he realized she was actually the final source of light in the space, her white hair and blue skin giving off a faint luminescence.

“If a day comes where things are not fast enough, where others are not able to reach you in time and you cannot remember with your mind, remember with your heart like you did once before. Even when starting over, a home and a family will still be waiting for you.”

She glowed a little brighter, surroundings starting to fade.

“Hopefully, by the time you pass on your soul will be healed enough that you no longer have to worry. But if that is not the case...”

She leaned down, held his face in both of her hands, and placed one last kiss on his forehead.

“I will be there. Shine bright, my little monarch.”

He closed his eyes, for a single blink-

-And opened them to the deck of The Nein Heroez.

“-I told you, I’m not the one who knows. I just sent him along to someone who does, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t smite you,” Kingsley croaked and Artagan whirled around, pointing at him.

“See! I told you, he’s fine.”

Jester gasped. “Kingsley!”

“Welcome back,” Yasha murmured, and she gave him a hug with the arm around his shoulder.

“Wait, smite? Who the fuck did you send him to?” Beau said, shooting Artagan a look.

“Well! It looks like my work here is done,” Artagan said, completely ignoring Beau and clapping his hands together. “Just let me know when you need something again Jester, tah!”

He vanished in a swirl of green cloak before Beau could get another word in, and she groaned.

“Ugh. He didn't even do anything himself.”

“Yes he did!” Jester said, and she looked at Kingsley. “... it did work, right?”

“... yeah,” he said, a little dazed, and he reached up to touch his forehead. He was going to need time to process that. A lot of time.

“See! He did do something!”

Fjord gave him a thoughtful look. “Who did he send you to? You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“T-the Moonweaver.”

That got everyone’s attention on him at once. A couple of them blanched.

“... you were not kidding with the smite comment,” Caleb said, eyes a little wide.

Essek looked around at the group and everyone’s expressions. “Being sent to a god is notable, but I feel I am missing some additional context here.”

“We um. Miiight have had a plan where Artie pretended to be the Moonweaver?” Jester said.

“It went badly,” Fjord said bluntly.

“As in dragged off into the sky in chains badly,” Veth added on.

Essek blinked, then shook his head. “I should not even be surprised anymore.”

“I was pretty surprised the first time I heard about it,” Kingsley said, shrugging. “And I only heard about it cause of all the times the ship docked at Rumblecusp. I think you're good.”

Essek gave him a wry grin. “Well. I am glad I am not the only one to hear about things after the fact.”

“You get used to it,” Caduceus said, smiling. “And we’re all here now, so, you don’t have to worry about it this time.”

“True enough,” Kingsley said and he stretched, sitting up straight but still at Yasha’s side.

“What did you learn?” Yasha asked.

“Well... the main thing is she said my soul is. Fragile? And that if I’m dead too long I might forget things again. But she also said it’ll heal after enough time so it’s not all bad?” Her last words to him, about what she would do if it hadn’t healed yet, echoed in the back of his mind.

“It’s still not great though,” Beau said, sitting with her arm resting on a raised knee. “She tell you any way to fix it sooner?”

He shook his head. “She just said it’d take time.” After a second he glanced over to Essek and Caleb. “And I don’t think she meant your kind of stuff. Sorry nerds.”

“Magic cannot fix everything,” Caleb said. “As much as we might want it to.” He was lost in thought for a moment before Essek squeezed his hand, Caleb returning the gesture.

Kingsley took a moment to inhale the ocean air, grounding himself, before fully flopping back against Yasha like a cat and she chuckled, starting to comb her fingers through his hair.

“What else did you guys talk about? You were gone for a while,” Jester said.

Kingsley hesitated.

He didn’t really know why he was hesitating. Maybe he was afraid. Of what, he wasn’t sure, but that fear that had bubbled over while talking to the Moonweaver wasn’t totally gone. And maybe it was the fact that he still didn’t know what to make of things himself yet. But he also remembered the words she’d said towards the end, that even if he forgot, he would still have a family. And a home.

(An even more distant memory. Of him asking for home, and Jester saying yeah, we can go home).

He saw Caduceus watching him out of the corner of his eye, expression knowing, but the cleric didn’t push, and that was what made the decision for him. The Mighty Nein was his family. And they would be there for him no matter what.

“Well,” Kingsley said, pausing for dramatic effect. “To start, she was wearing this red coat...”

He launched into retelling, knowing that he had his family, his home, and that his heart would remember for as long as he would need.

#Critical Role #cr spoilers #Kingsley Tealeaf #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Mollymauk #The Mighty Nein #The Moonweaver #Critical Role fanfiction #my writing #things get better for him don't worry #he just gets mildly traumatized first #AO3 link in reblog

135 notes · View notes

pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 3 years

Text

all wrapped up for you

summary: you’d do anything for your best friend, even if that means helping him buy the perfect gift for the person he truly likes.

word count: 3k

note from the writer: day three! make sure to check back for the next nine fics! / masterpost of the Christmas fics

tagging: @bqstqnbruin @broadstbroskis @laurenairay @calgarycanuck @justjosty @sorryjustafangirl @tayella13 @wastedheartcth @kiedhara @writinghockey / add yourself to my Christmas fics taglist

You really wished you were better at telling Anthony no. Wished you had taken up your friend’s offer to get brunch so you had an excuse to say you were busy on Saturday. Wished you weren’t so gone for him that the moment he said he needed help you didn’t clear your calendar.

Because now you were stuck helping the guy you were practically in love with buy a gift for someone else.

He showed up to your apartment half an hour earlier, before you had even gotten dressed for the day, and let himself into your apartment as if he owned the place. You couldn’t be mad, truly, because you had given him a key and it was far from the first time he had done so.

“Are you ready?” Anthony asked excitedly, making his way into your kitchen where you were putting your now empty mug in the sink. You rolled your eyes, grin tugging at your lips as you turned to face him and gestured to the baggy t-shirt and old shorts you slept in.

“Does it look like I’m ready, Beau?” You questioned teasingly, watching as he sighed dramatically with a grin that rivaled yours. A thought crossed your mind then, one that dampened your mood and you bit your lip to try and stop yourself from voicing it, but it was too little too late and suddenly you were speaking without your permission. “You must really like this girl if you’re showing up early and trying to drag me out of here.”

“Yeah, I do.” Anthony responded easily, and thankfully his back was turned as he dug through your cupboards for something to snack on so he didn’t see the way your face fell and shoulders slumped. You hurt your own feelings with that comment, the dreaminess in his words tugging at your heart. You wanted nothing more than to be his, but if you couldn't have him, you at least wanted him to be happy.

“I’m going to go change.” You murmured, and if Anthony picked on the sudden change in your tone he didn’t say anything. The time it took for you to get dressed and put the final touches on your outfit gave you the break you needed to collect yourself and your thoughts.

You knew the next few hours were going to be rough; you’d be spending time with Anthony, which you always looked forward to, but it’d come with a cost. That cost being helping him get the perfect gift for the person he had feelings for. The person who was, very clearly, not you.

“Ready?” You questioned as you emerged from your bedroom to find Anthony sitting on your couch waiting patiently. He jumped to his feet, clearly anxious to get started, and you tried your best to chase away any and all thoughts regarding your current predicament with him.

If he asked your help, then you’d give it to him.

“So, what are we thinking? Jewelry? Perfume? Shoes?” You asked the moment you entered the department store he had taken you to. Glancing up to him, you couldn’t help but laugh at the bewildered look on his face, clearly unsure of where to start.

“Is that stuff you would like?” He turned to face you, brows furrowed and for a moment he caught you off guard. This was a dangerous game, picking out stuff you would like only to have Anthony turn around and buy it for someone else. But he looked so completely lost and out of his element that you forced a tight smile and curled your hand around his bicep to lead him further into the store.

“Do you know her sizes? Shoes could be nice, or we can look at jewelry if you want it to be more romantic.” You mused, pulling him towards the shoe section to start. Even if he wanted to look for other stuff, you could still buy yourself something nice. Maybe you’d get something out of this trip other than your own hurt feelings and the confirmation that he definitely did not feel the same about it. A little retail therapy never hurt, right?

“She’s about your size, yeah.” He told you, certain in his tone despite not giving you a solid answer. You tried to stop yourself from running through the list of people Anthony hung out with that were roughly your size, but you came up short, certain that he would have told you if it was one of your mutual friends.

“Maybe we should look at perfumes, then.” You steered him away from the clothing section. If he didn’t know her exact sizes, then you didn’t want him to get her something that didn’t fit. Standing in front of the display shelf full of perfume, you getsured for Anthony to take his pick.

“Isn’t this the kind you wear?” He asked, grabbing a bottle off the shelf and spraying it. You shot him a look, unsure of why he would know that and how he was able to pick it out easily. It wasn’t as if he had smelt it and recognized it; he had picked it up off the shelf completely unprompted. Part of you wanted to melt at his words, to overthink and hurt your own feelings once more, but you shoved that part aside.

“And you know that, how?” You asked, grabbing the bottle out of his hands and putting it back on the shelf. There was absolutely no way he was going to be getting the same perfume you wore for some other girl.

“I don’t know, I’ve seen you getting ready for nights out too many times, I guess.” He said with a shrug, but you would have sworn you saw a blush on his cheeks. He turned away from you before you could be certain, and you were left standing in front of the shelf of perfume confused while Anthony wandered off to the counter full of different types of jewelry. “Jewelry is romantic, right?”

“Yeah, what are you thinking?” You confirmed, trying not to seem as defeated as you were by his choice of words. He was looking for a romantic gift, a gift that was not for you and you were helping him pick it out.

“I don’t know, what do you like?” He questioned, looking over the case of rings, bracelets, earrings and necklaces with confusion. You couldn’t help but chuckle at how lost he looked, and it was that tiny bit of pity that had you turning to look at the jewelry to pick out something you liked.

“I think those necklaces are really pretty.” You hummed, pointing out a row of beautiful gold chains with different pendants and designs. They weren’t overly gaudy but strikingly simple, and they had caught your eye almost immediately.

“The diamond ones?” Anthony questioned, looking to the rack just next to the one you had been pointing to. Shaking your head, your head, you moved closer so that the necklaces were in reach. They truly were a gift you’d love to receive, and it stung a bit that Anthony might be buying one for someone other than you.

“No, not necessarily. I don’t think the price tag matters, but maybe something a little more personal, you know?” You explained, your fingers brushing over the dainty gold chains absentmindedly. Glancing up, you noticed a far away look in his eyes as he studied you and most definitely not the jewelry you were showing him. “Beau?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Anthony said quietly, like he was having a completely different conversation that you were unaware of. You gave him a confused look, but chose not to question him. Your heart was hammering in your chest as a result of the way he was looking at you, a soft smile on his lips and a look that was too similar to adoration in his eyes. All too soon, though, his gaze drifted over your shoulder as if searching for something. “What about that?”

“A candle?” You asked, following his gaze to the section of seasonal and decorative candles. Anthony nodded, a slight flush to his cheeks as he grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the jewelry and to the candles. “Beau, you asked me to come along for gift ideas but you haven’t listened to a single thing I’ve suggested.”

“Just trust me on this? I promise she’ll like this.” He assured you, though he didn’t sound all too convinced. Candles weren’t the most romantic gift, certainly not as much as the jewelry and perfume you had just been looking at, but he had the advantage of knowing who you were shopping for.

“You know, this would be a lot easier if you told me who she is. Have I met her before?” You questioned, grabbing the first candle off the shelf and smelling it. You were trying to act inconspicuous, but you were dying for information.

“Yeah, but I’m not telling you.” He said, a bashful look on his face as he avoided your gaze and examined the candles as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. He must have felt the weight of your stare, because he shot you a mischievous smile that nearly knocked the wind out of you. “It’s a secret.”

“Does Barzy know?” You challenged, picking up another candle and inspecting it as a way to try and seem less interested than you were in Anthony’s love life.

“That’s not important.”

“So he does.” You stated, a victorious smile on your lips despite the way your heart raced at the thought of getting closer to finding out who had Anthony all worked up. Maybe it would be best if you didn’t know who it was, to live in blissful ignorance for a little while longer, but you had never been the best at preserving your own feelings. Hence the reason you had agreed to spend your free Saturday helping Anthony buy a gift for someone else. “Come on, why won’t you tell me?”

“How does this smell?” He dodged the question, grabbing the closest candle and holding it up to your face to get your opinion. You gave him a curious look, but otherwise dropped the subject and focused on the apple cinnamon scented candle he held.

“Here, try this one instead.” You sighed, handing him the candle you had previously been testing. With a heavy heart, you watched as he gave the candle sniff before looking to you for guidance. “Wisteria and jasmine, it’s supposed to be a romantic combination. I’m sure she’ll love that, whoever she is.”

“Yeah,” Anthony started, watching you with the same adoring look in his eyes that made your heart race. “Whoever she is.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty satisfaction as you watched Anthony hand the candle to the cashier, because even though some other girl would be getting his attention along with that gift, at least it wasn’t something entirely too romantic.

It was a few days until Anthony finally came around to your place again. He had told you that he needed to come over and give you his gift, because he was supposed to be heading back home to see his family soon and wanted you to have it before he left. Your present for him was sitting on your kitchen table, a nice leather wallet wrapped and ready to be exchanged, and when he finally knocked on your door you jumped to your feet to let him in.

He was nervous, you could tell from the way that he knocked instead of letting himself in and how he rushed past you with little more than a quiet ‘hello’ and a kiss pressed to your forehead. With a furrowed brow, you shut your apartment door and followed after him into your living room, where instead of making himself at home on your couch like he usually did, he was pacing the length of the room.

“Beau, are you alright?” He stopped at the sound of your voice, and spun to face you a little too quickly. He didn’t say anything at first, just dragged his hand through his hair and nodded despite looking anything but alright.

“Here’s your present.” He blurted, holding out a wide, flat box. Definitely not a candle. It was evident that he had wrapped it himself, you could see how much tape he used and how the folds were less than neat, but you smiled happily all the same.

“Let me go get your gift, and we can open them together—” You started, but Anthony shook his head quickly to shoot down the idea.

“No, you need to open yours first.” He said decidedly. You didn’t put up an argument, and instead took the box he was extending towards you and settling down on the couch. Anthony stayed standing, and you tried not to let that unnerve you, but something was going on with him.

After unwrapping the present, you opened the lid of the box to find a familiar blue and orange jersey inside. With a chuckle, you lifted the fabric up to better read the name and number on the back of the jersey. Beavullier, number eighteen. It was a running joke between the two of you, that somehow you, his good luck charm, didn’t even own one of his jerseys.

“Thanks, Beau.” You smiled genuinely, but before Anthony could say anything in response your gaze caught on something else in the box with the jersey. It was a smaller, black box that you instantly recognized as one for jewelry. Your breath caught in your throat and you glanced up to Anthony, but he was just watching you with a nearly unreadable look in his eyes.

You opened the box, a shocked grin instantly making its way onto your face as you saw the dainty gold chain and the tiny circular pendant of the necklace. You remembered it as one of the necklaces you had pointed out to him in the department store.

“You said personal.” Anthony said quietly as you brushed the pad of your finger across the lowercase ‘a’ engraved on the pendant. You felt your heart skip three beats at the realization of what the ‘a’ meant. It was for Anthony. He was giving you a necklace with his initial on it.

And he had you convinced that he was terrible at buying romantic gifts.

“Yeah, I did.” You replied just as quietly, carefully setting the boxes on the coffee table before standing and crossing the short distance to where he was standing in your living room anxiously. “Who is the other girl, Beau?”

“There isn’t another girl. Never was, never will be.” He confessed, his hands slowly finding purchase on your waist as you stepped closer to him with each word that passed his lips. Your heart was hammering in your chest, but a thin veil of confusion still covered you. Regardless, your hands fell to his chest, and you could feel the rapid beat of his own heart under your palm.

“Why’d you buy the candle that day, then?” You questioned, because for the past few days you had done nothing but think about how he bought another gift for another girl. Anthony smiled sheepishly, ducking his head slightly in nerves.

“I couldn’t exactly buy your gift with you right there, now could I?” He explained and you couldn’t help the chuckle that fell past your lips then at his comment.

“What’d you do with it?” You were teasing him then, simply bidding time until the conversation that you felt was inevitable came. The one where you finally told Anthony how you felt, the one where he, hopefully, said he felt the same.

“Gave it to Barzy. He really appreciated you picking out the scent, by the way. Said it was exactly what he was looking for.” He mumbled, his head dropping lower and lower in search of a kiss you wouldn’t hesitate to give him. He was teasing, buying time for you to pull back but you stayed still, tilting your chin up slightly in a bid to get him to finally connect your lips.

“Well, tell him I said you’re welcome.” You grinned, shaking your head in mirth at their close friendship. It was then that Anthony closed the gap between you and him, your hands moving of their own accord to hold his face as he kissed you with everything he had. It was a little dizzying, to finally have his lips on yours after so long spent dreaming of this moment. Even when you pulled back ever so slightly to breathe, it was clear both of you had smiles that would last for days.

“Besides, I needed to take you shopping to see what you liked. Pretty smart, eh?” He grinned, clearly proud of himself. You rolled your eyes playfully at his comment, but he only tugged you closer to him until you were flush against his front.

“Beau, I’ve spent the past week and a half thinking you had feelings for someone else. You could have played it a little smarter.” You teased, shifting so your arms were wrapped loosely around his neck. His expression flickered then, to one a bit more serious and he was looking at you with a sincerity in his eyes that would have made you melt, if his kiss hadn’t already done so.

“So, you like me too?” He questioned, and though his wording felt a little juvenile you nodded honestly, your gaze shifting to match his.

“Wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t.” You told him, tilting your chin up in search of another kiss that Anthony wasted no time in giving you. “And I definitely wouldn’t have done it again.”

“Do you want to put on the necklace? I want to see you with my initial.” He commented, a little cheekily but mostly happily. You nodded, slowly slipping from his arms to pick up the box you had set on the coffee table. With a sly smile of your own, you asked;

“Help me put it on?”

#anthony beauvillier #Anthony beauvillier x reader #Anthony beauvillier imagine #tito beauvillier #tito beauvilliier x reader #tito beauvillier imagine #New York Islanders #New York islanders imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #12 days fics

531 notes · View notes

beauregardlionett · 3 years

Text

hands and tears and bedsheet fears

AO3 Link

Yasha wasn’t sure why she was leading the way to Beau’s room, but it felt right. Beau was so clearly eager to keep going, to lie in bed with Yasha and find infinity. But there also remained a quiet hesitance to everything Beau said and did around her.

Especially tonight.

Yasha knew Beau didn’t want to push her too far too fast—which was sweet—but Yasha was in the mood to be a little dangerous. She was in the mood to press Beau into the mattress with her body weight alone, to taste the salt on Beau’s skin, to chase the pleasure of her tongue. Call her reckless, but Yasha sometimes did better that way.

Besides, they had the whole tower to themselves. Yasha figured they could afford to be a little stupid for one night.

She turned to glance over her shoulder at Beau, a giddy grin tugging the corners of her lips upward. Beau looked somehow soft and wild all at once, her visage sending a shock of thrill through Yasha’s veins. There was a flush high on Beau’s cheekbones, her bright blue eyes glinting with unshielded desire. But Beau was also drowning in Yasha’s tunic, her bare legs only visible from just above her kneecaps down. Her hair fell loose and damp, leaving dark patches of water against Yasha’s shirt.

Yasha squeezed Beau’s hand where their fingers wove together, chest full of indescribable emotion.

They pushed open the door to Beau’s room at long last, Yasha tossing aside the bundle of their mismatched clothing. Beau barely stepped through the door before Yasha had her pushed up against it.

Without hesitation, Yasha’s lips pressed against Beau’s, kissing her with the same fervor as before. Months of repressed feelings and desires that she had attempted to funnel through stunted conversation and longing glances poured out of Yasha. Her lips were the floodgates and Beau’s the receiving river.

Yasha eventually came up for air, forehead pressed to Beau’s as they gasped in each other’s space.

“Bed?” Yasha asked, breathless.

“Bed. Definitely,” Beau agreed, giddy and hoarse.

Yasha laughed, soft and clear, as she ducked in to seal her lips against Beau’s neck. A low noise of pleasure slipped past Beau’s lips as her fingers sunk into Yasha’s messy, damp hair. Fingernails scraped lightly at Yasha’s scalp and she doubled her efforts, hands moving to hold the underside of Beau’s thighs. She straightened up, bringing Beau with her. Beau yelped at the sudden shift before hooking her ankles together around Yasha’s waist and leaning her weight into Yasha’s mouth so she didn’t fall backward.

Yasha turned and carried Beau further into the room, humming her approval against Beau’s carotid she had captured between her teeth.

Her bare feet against the cool stone of the bedroom floor echoed dimly against Beau’s quiet sounds of approval. The fabric of Yasha’s tunic clung almost uncomfortably between their damp and sweaty chests, the only barrier to them being skin to skin. But Yasha found she didn’t mind so much since Beau was wearing her shirt.

Yasha’s knees eventually knocked against the edge of Beau’s bed. She took a moment to firm up her grip on Beau’s thighs before tipping them both onto the mattress. Beau’s breath huffed from her upon impact, dissolving into a moan when the jarring motion caused Yasha to bite at the spot on Beau’s neck she had been attending to. Her fingers tugged at Yasha’s hair with unsteady desire—an encouragement.

Yasha kept at her task of pressing the most obvious hickey into Beau’s neck for another handful of moments before pulling away. She deemed her work satisfactory and grinned down at Beau’s flushed countenance, inordinately pleased with herself. The color in Beau’s cheeks and the dazed but excited light in her eyes gave Yasha all the reassurance she needed. Teasing her fingers against the hem of the tunic, she pushed the garment up and off Beau’s chest.

Beau’s hands moved faster, circling Yasha’s wrists with gentle pressure, but enough to halt the movement.

“Wait,” Beau’s hoarse voice stopped Yasha.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Yasha’s instinct was to fret, to worry that she had made a mistake. The hesitation that had so quickly overcome Beau’s expression left a terrifying chill that settled like a rock in Yasha’s gut.

“Yeah, I just…” Beau rolled her head to the side as she looked away. Her hair—loose and damp—splayed out on the pillow like a halo, her skin still glowing with a light shine from the hot tub. For all that Yasha bore the blood of angelic ancestry, Beau was a celestial vision. (Perhaps her bias was glaringly obvious, but what did that matter when your lives were at risk in a frozen wasteland?)

Yasha slid careful fingers against the sharp line of Beau’s jaw and cupped her cheek, drawing Beau’s attention back to her. All the confidence and bravado that Beau usually wore was absent; left in its place sat everything tender and vulnerable that she kept secret and safe behind the innumerable walls of her daily facade. Yasha knew it was an honor to be privy to Beau’s honesty, one she refused to take for granted.

“What is it, Beau?” Yasha murmured. “Talk to me.”

“This date has been…incredible,” Beau whispered after a moment, tone awed as much as it was hesitant. “And I know this is what others might think is the natural conclusion to a date they have a good time on. But I don’t…want you to think this is an expectation. I meant what I said earlier about no expectations, no matter what we confessed earlier.”

Yasha blinked down at Beau, stunned. They truly must be the biggest fools in all of Exandria. She could see it all now, in hindsight. The glances, the lingering touches, the blatant concern for each other piled and slid between healing hands and violent acts of protection. They had been pining after one another for months. The tension reached a breaking point ages ago, but they somehow stalled the shattering until now. And here Beau was, keeping their fragile composure held together with her bare hands. The jagged edges digging into her palms from the desire to transform into something new, but held back just in case.

All for Yasha’s sake.

Beau seemed to take Yasha’s stunned silence as some kind of confirmation because she started babbling reassurances.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to do this if you want to, but I don’t want you doing it because you think I expect it. And if you don’t want to, we can stop here. We can go to sleep. We also don’t even have to sleep in the same bed—or even the same room. Hell, we can sleep on different sides of the tower if that would make you feel more secure. I mean—”

Yasha scooped her hands beneath Beau’s back and lifted her up, holding her close as she turned to sit on the edge of the bed. Beau’s legs straddled Yasha’s, her knees either side of Yasha’s hips. The movement silenced Beau, her lips clamped shut, eyes upset and guarded all at once as her fingers clung to the damp skin of Yasha’s shoulders. She looked down at Yasha before her gaze flicked to the side, looking almost ashamed.

“Beau,” Yasha murmured, her hands settled on Beau’s hips. “I want this. To be specific, I want this with you. There is no more hesitation on my end—I am all in. But if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I meant it too when I said no expectations.”

Beau seemed to deflate under Yasha’s hands, breath gusting out of her chest with a mighty exhale.

“I know that, and I want this, but—” Beau looked a little reluctant here, but she pushed on, gesturing to the bed over Yasha’s shoulder. “I’ve done this part before—quite often—and I know you’re aware that. There is the logical part of me that knows that you understand you aren’t just another one-night stand to feel something. But the other part of me is terrified of the morning.”

The pieces fell into place for Yasha. She firmed up her hold on Beau’s hips in response. Yasha leaned in, pressed her forehead to Beau’s jaw, and left a chaste kiss against her neck.

“It’s okay, Beau,” Yasha murmured with her lips against Beau’s neck. “I’m here. I’m staying.”

She thought she said the wrong thing when Beau choked on a sob above her. But before Yasha could pull back or say anything else, Beau wrapped her arms around Yasha’s shoulders and hugged her fiercely.

Yasha wound her arms around Beau’s waist and held her, let her cry into Yasha’s hair for as long as she needed. At some point, Yasha started rubbing a hand up and down Beau’s back over the tunic in soothing, even strokes. She kept up a steady litany of reassuring murmurs, hoping Beau would understand.

Yasha would not so easily leave again, not if she could help it.

Eventually, Beau’s tears subsided and Yasha got her to pull away so that she could thumb away the tears from Beau’s cheeks. Beau sniffled softly and murmured an apology that Yasha immediately dismissed.

“You do not have to apologize, Beau,” Yasha said as she brushed away another stray tear. “I want every part of you that you are willing to share with me. And that includes this.”

Beau looked like she might cry again, but there was also something lighter to the sheen in her eyes Yasha hadn’t seen before.

“I would like to kiss you again,” Yasha confessed as she continued to hold Beau’s face between her palms. “But only if that is okay with you.”

For all that she looked a mess and her voice croaked from crying, Beau’s answer was eager and immediate.

“Please. Please kiss me.”

They met in the middle, Yasha tipping her head to one side and Beau the other. It was easy and gentle, unassuming. They were content to linger on the other’s lips for as long as they both needed.

Yasha provided the inertia, however, when she moved her hands. Her fingers had gone a little numb where they rested against Beau’s hips. She slid her hands up Beau’s back, just to get her limbs moving, and her hands caught under the hem of the now dry tunic. The pads of her calloused fingers were a warm contrast against the small of Beau’s back, a comfortable heat.

Beau gasped into Yasha’s mouth at the touch, back arching slightly and fingers tightening on Yasha’s shoulders.

Yasha grinned up at Beau’s flushed face, amused and endeared. Perhaps a little reckless again as she put more pressure through her hands to Beau’s back.

Beau would never admit to pouting in that moment, but her lower lip stuck out as Yasha teased her gently.

The tunic didn’t stay on much longer.

#cr #critical role #beauyasha #my writing #writing #beauregard lionett #yasha

160 notes · View notes

writeroutoftime · 3 years

Text

by your side

pairing: jack thompson x reader

summary: "you wanna go save the world with me?"

warnings: none

words: 1.9k

a/n: this is for @lovelyavengers's writing challenge, and I thought it was due today, but I'm actually a month early lol! this was such a fun story to write, and I'm not really sure how I got this story from this prompt. anyway, I hope it's not too cheesy or too rushed, and please enjoy!

oOoOo

Despite the satisfaction that came with being a skilled agent with the elite SSR, it was incredibly difficult to have a social life outside of work. While others your age may have spent their evenings being twirled around the dancehall with a beau or two or even latest film at the theaters, yours were spent surrounded by endless files and fueled by numerous cups of coffee.

By some stroke of luck, however, you had been able to meet the love of your life – Jack Thompson – within the SSR walls. Of course, that didn’t mean the two of you had it easy. It was still difficult finding time alone together, especially after Jack’s promotion to chief of the New York office. In fact, you couldn’t even find time to have your wedding – which had already been rescheduled no less than three times.

Each time you thought you were in the clear to walk down the aisle and marry Jack, something popped up that took precedence. While you loved your work and wouldn’t trade your job for the world, it was more than a little frustrating.

“Ready for this weekend?” Peggy asked you as she passed by your desk one Wednesday afternoon.

A smile stretched across your face until your cheeks hurt. In just three days’ time, you would finally become Mrs. Jack Thompson. “You know what they say, fourth times a charm.” you joked, pushing the files you had been look through aside.

“Well let’s hope for yours and Jack’s sake, that’s true.” Peggy responded. “Now, is there anything you need me to do last minute?” she questioned, easily slipping into maid-of-honor duty.

“Just get me to the end of that aisle, whatever it takes.” you told her, not completely joking.

Before she could respond, you heard the door to Jack’s office open and he poked his head out. “Carter, I need to talk to you.” he said, gesturing for her to come into his office before his eyes slid over to yours and gave you a playful wink.

Peggy squeezed your shoulders reassuringly before she disappeared into Jack’s office. Twenty minutes later, your thoughts were back on the files in front of you. So focused on cracking the case, you didn’t notice Jack’s presence until he nudged your shoulders gently.

“Sweetheart, can I talk to you?” he asked, trying not to look you in the eye.

You gave him a worried look but allowed him to take your hand and lead you to his office where Peggy stood against Jack’s desk. Sitting down in the chair, you felt your heart beat faster as Jack knelt down in front of you, squeezing your hands in his. Somewhere deep inside of you, you knew what was coming, but you still held out hope that Jack’s words weren’t about to bring your good mood crashing down.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but I just got a call. They need us for a weeklong case, and we leave tomorrow.”

Tears immediately began to flood your eyes when you heard the word case, and you began to rapidly blink to keep them at bay. “Why does it have to be us?” you protested.

Jack sighed, feeling his heart break at the way you tried not to crumble. He took you in his arms and squeezed you tightly. “Direct orders from headquarters.” he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your back as you finally let the tears out.

Maybe it was selfish, but you had given so much of your time and energy to this organization, and you and Jack couldn’t catch the smallest break? Pulling away, you felt the disappointed morph into an angry and you held back to urge to swipe everything off Jack’s desk.

“When are we going to get to put ourselves first, Jack?” you asked, voice rising with each word as you began to pace around the office. “We’ve put our blood, sweat, and tears into this agency, and we can’t get one fucking weekend to ourselves.” you all but shouted.

“Hey, I know.” Jack said, stopping you in your tracks, knowing your anger wasn’t directed at him. “Nothing would make me happier than to finally be your husband, and I hate that I can’t give that to you yet.” he said, twisting your engagement ring around your finger to calm both you and him down.

Silence washed over the room as Jack enveloped you in another hug. Peggy bit her lip as she watched the scene, only feeling as though she were slightly intruding. Jack had called her in to try and figure out a way to break the news to you, but Peggy knew there was nothing he could’ve been except honest.

“Well,” you finally said after a few minutes. “I guess we should cancel the venue and start packing.”

Just as you and Jack moved to start getting ready, Peggy gasped and stepped forward. “No one is going anywhere just yet; I have an idea!”

“Peggy –“ you started, quickly getting cut off.

“y/n, I promised you I would get you down that aisle no matter what, and I am going to do just that, even if it’s not exactly in the way you originally planned.” she declared, looking ready to take down anyone or anything that stood in her way.

Jack shook his head in confusion. “Whatta you talking about, Carter?” he asked, his arm still around you as he tried not to get his hopes up.

“I know it’s not at all what you had planned, but we could get the two of you down to city hall before the end of the day, I’ll be your witness, and by the time you head out tomorrow you’ll be hitched!” Peggy explained enthusiastically.

The idea sank in your mind and the more time that passed, the more you thought it sounded like the perfect option. Elopement hadn’t been in the cards at first, but you and Jack weren’t exactly the poster couple for doing things by the book. Turning to face your fiancé, your grin returned at the thought of being married to Jack before the day’s end.

“Let’s do it.” you said, watching Jack’s eyes for any sign of hesitation.

“This what you want, sweetheart?” he asked.

Taking a moment to compose your thoughts, you nodded. “It is. Like Peggy said, it isn’t what we originally planned, but who cares? The only thing that matters to me is that we get to be each other’s for the rest of our lives. I don’t want to spend another mission, hell, not even another day without being your wife.”

Jack nodded silently at your words, and you could tell you had won him over. “Well then, looks like we got a wedding to get ourselves to!” he said, letting out a chuckle at the beaming smile on your face.

“In that case, let’s go, y/n.” Peggy said, suddenly grabbing your hand and dragging you out of Jack’s office. “We’ve got a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it.”

“Hey! Where are you taking my fiancée?” Jack argued with a pout.

Peggy rolled her eyes before she responded. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, and the two of you have already been together all day. Besides, we have to go get ready, while you go down to City Hall.”

Before Jack could say another word, Peggy pulled you through the SSR and back towards your apartment, both of you giddy the whole way there. Once you made it back to your apartment, Peggy sat you down and began to flutter around, quickly, yet very efficiently, styling your hair and makeup. Then, before you knew it, she was helping you slip into your white dress and zipping you up.

Smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles, Peggy smiled at you through the mirror. “Absolutely stunning, darling.” she praised, give you a side hug. “Jack won’t know what hit him when he sees you.”

Giggling, you tried to keep the tears at bay. “Peggy, I just want to say thank you. This is perfect, and you are truly the best friend I could ever have.” you admitted, beyond thankful for her support.

“Oh, stop it!” she playfully scolded, wiping away tears of her own. “You’re going to make me cry, and then the two of us will never get out of this apartment. So, let’s get you down to City Hall before your fiancé worries himself to death.” she suggested, carefully holding up your dress as to avoid on stains on the hem.

The two of you must have been a sight for sore eyes as you waited to hail a cab. But you couldn’t find it in you to care about any of the stares people were giving you. You were about to get married - besides, it was New York, they all had seen much stranger sights.

When City Hall came into sight, you felt your hands begin to shake and butterflies pound in your stomach. Once again, Peggy helped you out of the cab and inside the building where she directed you to sit down while she found Jack.

“Oh, I managed to snag these flowers on our way out of your apartment.” she said, pushing a wildflower bouquet that Jack had gotten for you a few days earlier into your hands.

A few minutes passed, and Peggy returned saying that Jack had found an open slot and was waiting with the officiant. She guided you towards the office that Jack was in and offered you one last hug before she slipped in, allowing you to make your entrance.

There was no organ playing music to signal your arrival, no hall of friends and family, not even a true aisle for you to glide down. However, the one constant that remained was Jack, standing next to the officiant, slightly nervous but with the biggest grin on his face. When your eyes met, you swore your heart skipped a beat and Jack had to blink back the tears when he saw how beautiful you looked.

Even if it wasn’t exactly the grand day you pictured, it was more perfect than you could ever imagine because Jack was holding your hands and beaming at you as though you had hung the stars in the sky. Everything else faded away because you were about to marry the love of your life.

As the officiant made his way through the standard speech for a courthouse wedding, you could only imagine the moments from here on out with Jack by your side. It might have taken a few tries, but you and Jack finally made it, and that's all you could have asked for.

“And by the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” the officiant declared.

He had barely gotten the words out before Jack scooped you in his arms and kissed you passionately, loosing himself for a moment as he pulled you flush against his chest. Your hands tangled in his hair and relished in the thought of finally being married to this man. It was only Peggy’s whistling and cheers that brought you back to reality.

Not long after, you and Jack were ushered out by the officiant, but nothing could stop the joy you felt that day. Standing outside the courthouse, you reached out to grasp your husband’s hand, ready to take on anything with him by your side.

“You wanna go save the world, with me Mrs. Thompson?” he asked, his voice proud and grin slightly dopey at the words.

“Nothing would make me happier, Mr. Thompson.”

#tori's500challenge #jack thompson x reader #jack thompson imagines #jack thompson imagine #agent carter imagine #agent carter x reader #rita writes

100 notes · View notes

matbarzyy · 3 years

Note

How about #8 with beau ?

A/N: Don’t ask me how this turned into something so long, it just did, so I hope you’ll like it. The prompt was “I’m crying on the bathroom floor, how do you think I feel?”

Word count: 1897

Warnings: abuse (family, mentioned but not detailed, mostly just yelling)

You had always been convinced that Anthony Beauvillier’s niceness had to be fake. There was just something about him that you felt was… different. Something was off with him and you could never get used to having him around.

It was a bit of an issue considering he was always with Mat and Mat just happened to be dating your best friend, Sarah. No matter what you said, they always thought it was great that the two of you could hang out so that you wouldn’t be third wheeling, and at first they even hoped you’d end up together.

After months of bickering between the two of you, it was now obvious that you would never date, but you were still forced to deal with each other. Tito couldn’t be excluded from your best friend’s birthday celebrations, and neither could you.

“I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself from a conversation to go outside.

The noise of the party was too much for you tonight. As hard as you tried, you weren’t having a good time and you were truly glad that Sarah was busy with Mat and some other people for now. You had been with her all day long doing as much as possible for her to enjoy her birthday, but now you really needed a break from everyone.

You had bigger things to worry about, and you knew you were far from done with the worrying when you saw your little brother was calling you.

“Tommy, what’s wrong?” You picked up the phone instantly. You wished you could have answered like a normal person, just saying hello and asking him how he was, but with the way things were at home you knew him calling past ten pm couldn’t be good.

“Jack is yelling again,” the ten years old sniffled.

“Where’s mom?” You asked instinctively though you knew she’d do very little to help.

“He’s yelling at her,” he told you, which only relieved you a little.

“Okay, and where are you?” You continued to assess the situation as calmly as you could despite wanting to break down and cry.

“Under my bed,”

“It’s all going to be okay,” you felt tears sting your eyes despite your best efforts. “You just stay where you are, and stay really quiet, can you do that for me?”

“I’m scared,” he almost whimpered, making you wish you could instantly teleport to his side, or even better, to kick the ass of the person scaring him.

“I know baby,” you wiped your thumbs under your eyes to get rid of the tears. There was nothing you could do in this moment except help him get through it. “I’ll be there in three days, remember? I’ll come home and we can pack your things and you’ll go to this really nice school in New York and make tons of new friends,”

“I want to go now,” the little boy complained.

“I want that too. It’ll be really fast, you won’t even see time go by, okay? I bought you those spiderman bed sheets you told me about, remember those?” You held yourself together and did your best to distract him.

Tommy listened, chiming in every now and then, but you could still tell he was scared from his muffled crying and quiet sniffles. Every little sound made your heart shatter more. You remembered being in his place, scared of a man and hiding in your closet or under your bed when you were even younger than him. You remembered trying to call the police only for your mom to get angry at you after the officers had taken you back home to her. You remembered the helplessness knowing that no one would help you.

It wasn’t Jack, at the time, but the situation was the same. You believed it had stopped when Tommy was born and your mom took you away with him when he was just a baby to get you to a safer apartment. You believed he was safe when you applied to a college so far from him, you believed it would all be okay and you could come visit during holidays.

It took less than a semester for things to turn sour again, for Tom to call you crying in the middle of the night and for your mom to lie to you about her new boyfriend every time you managed to get her on the phone too. Now, the guilt of leaving was eating at you and you would do anything to fix it.

Ever since Tom’s first call, you had been saving up all you could to book a flight to take him to New York with you. Your apartment was small, but you didn’t have a roommate so you wouldn’t bother anyone by letting Tom live with you. You’d only have to sort your schedule out according to his own school times.

You weren’t in the mood to deal with the party anymore when you went back inside, but it was still going full force around you. Mat’s place was big, so there were more people than you could count and you found that far too many were gigantic hockey players as you struggled to push your way through the crowd to the bathroom.

You went straight into Mathew’s bedroom, knowing it was off limits during the party and that his attached bathroom would be quiet and unoccupied. It’s not like you hadn’t been there before, neither he or Sarah would be mad at you for hiding in there once you’d tell them why.

You hadn’t shared your family history with many people, but Sarah was the only person who knew everything about you and you had drunkenly told Mat most of the story one night when you were hanging out with the two of them.

You sobbed your heart out on the floor, splashing cold water on your face when you calmed down only to break down again minutes later and making your eyes go even redder if possible. Your makeup had been washed down the drain by now, and your top was damp from the water that had run down your neck whenever you tried to regain a bit of composure.

It was uncomfortable and you were debating just stealing some of Mat’s clothes and locking yourself in his guest bedroom for the rest of the night.

You were still sitting on the cold tiles when a sound disturbed you. It might have been Mat coming into his room, and maybe with Sarah, so you were about to push yourself up to make yourself known when the door to the bathroom was pushed open.

Anthony stood there with wide eyes when he found you, any snarky comment he could have made dying on his tongue when he saw the way you looked.

“Um, are you feeling okay?” He asked, awkwardly shuffling on his feet.

“I’m crying on the bathroom floor, how do you think I feel?” You glared at him, but you knew you probably just looked like a pathetic mess. “What are you even doing here?”

“There’s a line for the bathroom out there, I didn’t think anyone would be here,” he explained, looking back behind himself to check that no one had followed him into the room.

“Yeah well, guess I’ll remember to lock the door next time.” You scoffed, wiping your face clean of tears again while he remained there completely still. “Are you so amused by the fact that I’m having a horrible night that you’re just going to stand there and watch?”

“I’m not amused.” He shook his head, finally unfrozen. “Can I sit with you?”

“You’re joking, right?” Your voice cracked at the end of your sentence, weak from your crying, and you tried to pass it off as a cough.

“I’m not heartless, I don’t think you deserve to be alone right now.” Anthony gave you a look that told you you weren’t fooling him with your fake coughing. “I’d get Sarah but she’s probably too drunk to be any help,”

“You can sit if it’ll make you shut up,” you eventually grumbled, too tired to spend more time arguing with him.

Tito nodded and closed the door behind himself before he sat down beside you.

He did as you asked and kept his mouth shut. He could have been out there with his friends having a good time, but somehow he chose to remain by your side. You despised him a little less for that. There were better people to bring you comfort, but he was all you could get right now and you were thankful that someone was there to keep you from getting in your head even more.

“You don’t suck as much as I thought you did,” you eventually broke the silence, earning a chuckle from him.

“Thanks… I guess,” he cleared his throat. “Can I ask why you got that impression?”

“Guys that look nice and act nice are always too good to be true,”

“So you hate me because you’re attracted to me?” He turned to look at you and you gave him a disgusted look.

“I’m not attracted to you!” You exclaimed while he scoffed.

“Yeah, right,” Tito rolled his eyes, not buying your lie.

“Did I mention that you’re annoyingly cocky?” You added to prove your point, and he nodded like he had been expecting that answer.

“I guess you have now,” he waited for whatever insult you were going to throw at him next, but you turned quiet instead.

“Sorry,” you whispered after a moment.

“For what?”

“We’re not friends, and you found me crying here and stuck around instead of running away and now I’m being a bitch to you,” you pretended to pick at things in the fabric of your jeans so that you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Doesn’t change much from the way we usually interact,” he replied and saw the way your shoulders hunched a little further. “Hey, I’m only joking,” he immediately went back on his words. He had only meant to poke you to earn another of your sassy replies.

Instead, he had made you cry again and now he didn’t know what to do. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and placed it on your back to rub what he hoped would be soothing circles. You didn’t look at him, but you leaned into the touch and it was enough for him to pull you into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out between sobs, your voice half muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay,” Tito let you hide against his chest. “You’re the boldest person I’ve ever met, and you’re brilliant. There’s nothing in this world you can’t handle,” he ran his hand up and down your back, feeling you slowly settle against him. “Whatever is going on, I know you’re going to make it all okay eventually,”

“It’s scary,” you admitted through a whisper, and Tito hugged you tighter.

“You’re safe here.”

“I know,” you breathed out, relaxing into his arms and letting your eyes fall shut as you focused on the sound of his heartbeat.

There was a lot left for you to do before things could be okay, but in that moment in Anthony’s arms you were safe, and you knew you would get there.

Please reblog and let me know what you thought!!

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed): @itrocksmysocks @kerwritesthings @pupsandpucks @barzysreputation @whythough1319 @smit41 @glassdanse @fiveholegoal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @thefootballfaithfull @calgarycanuck @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls

#tw #tw:abuse #anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #anthony beauvillier fic #anthony beauvillier angst #tito beauvillier fic #tito beauvillier angst #nhl fic #hockey fic #ny isles #new york islanders

66 notes · View notes

saphirered · 3 years

Note

Welcome back! Can you please do first times for Beau and Yasha poly?

Omg, I have no idea why I had so much trouble writing this one. I changed my mind sooooo many times on how to write this 🙈. So many edits and revisions. I hope it turned out the way you like. ☺️

First time you met Beau you were already a well established ‘student’ of the Cobalt Soul. Your reputation of an exemplary student did not go unheard by Beauregard and she kind of disliked you already based only off of that. Little did she know you only held that reputation because you knew exactly how to work the system to get away with everything.

Being forced to get to know you better Beau began to realise you were very different from what others painted you as. You covered for her getting Zeenoth out of her hair for doing something she shouldn’t have.

Beau not used to a kindness without the expectation of something in return left her a bit uneasy. So of course she took you out to have some drinks on her treat at a decent tavern. Fuelled by perhaps a bit too much alcohol and the ability to kick ass a bar fight was simply unavoidable. So your first fight wasn’t exactly between the two of you but it may have started as as an argument nonetheless. Poor fools that started the argument felt those bruises for a long while.

After the bar fight incident you were forced to find a new place to drink, but luckily there’s many more bars and taverns to find in Zadash. You jokingly took up the habit of making kissy faces and being a little too close for comfort were it anyone else after Zeenoth asked a few too many questions about your whereabouts. A slap on your ass from Beau and a kiss on your cheek seemed to shut the man up and excuse himself. Since this was very effective you kept this going until it became a second nature.

Another drunken ‘date night’ laughing about keeping up your facade like experts to be free of the reigns of the Cobalt Reserve reenacting your latest trick, may have turned into a full make out session. Not that far into your cups the both of you decided best to not let this carry on further until you’d both be sober enough to make a conscious decision not influenced by alcohol.

Beau being Beau avoided the matter, pretending it never happened for the next few days as you could have expected but you knew her better than that and were aware the difficulties and complications, instilled through her childhood so you did what any supportive friend (if not already more than friend) would do and give her time, letting her know you’re there for her. Beau claimed that might have been the kindest thing anyone had ever told her.

Eventually Beau came around to address the elephant in the room, admitting her feelings for you full on. Together you decided to take things day by day as you always had. You had already acted like partners, now you were just putting a name to it.

Beau came to you first with her concerns and thoughts of running away from the Soul. She bared it all, telling you the full story of her father, even her first love and how she ended up where she was. You supported her, telling her this changed nothing and you cried with her. You told her once you’d have her back and you don’t back down from your promises. So you left with her, letting Beau take the lead wherever your new adventures would take you.

Then the two of you met the tall circus lass by the name of Yasha. Neither of you were secretive about your attractions to the barbarian. You had to prevent Beau from drooling watching Yasha go over her morning routine a couple of times. Both of you were upfront to each other and to Yasha. Honesty is the foundation of any good relationship be that friendship or something more.

Your first moment alone with Yasha was the night of a storm. The Nein had found a nice tavern to stay the night but you weren’t in the mood to drink the night away. Neither did Yasha. The two of you instead spend the night watching the storm, lightning strike in the distance and rejoiced in the ground rumbling beneath your feet every so often.

One of these nights watching a storm the two of you sat head leaning on shoulder and a sleeping Beauregard using your lap as a pillow. You and Yasha, softly whispering reminiscing fond memories of the past until you fell asleep together, both exhausted from the busy day.

Sharing rooms was no uncommon occasion but sometimes you’d find yourselves a bed short. Usually either you and Beau or Yasha would take the floor but over time the three of you would grow more comfortable sharing (perhaps with the gentle persuasion and enabling of a certain matchmaking blue tiefling). Particularly exhausted returning to civilisation after a long time on the road none of you cared and just collapsed on the bed awaking in each other’s arms the next morning.

When Yasha was taken, both you and Beau felt a piece of you left with her, however cheesy that may sound. It didn’t go unnoticed Yasha, Beau and you had become more than friends. Your feelings were valid. Beau and you did the best you could to be there for each other but you were going to do anything and everything in your power to bring your angel home.

And then you got her back, freed her from the devil that would control her and sent him to the pits of whence he came, or what’s left of him anyway. You were the first thing Yasha saw as she was released from the control and when the fight was over you pulled her into a hug, a hug Yasha herself turned into a deep kiss muttering ‘thank yous’. A ‘no fair’ from Beau was enough for the both of you to make sure she didn’t feel left out.

Yasha, sometimes awkward as she can be began to take initiative taking your hands in hers as you walk, an arm over your shoulders as she sat with you or even a little kiss here and there, growing accustomed to the loving gestures of another person was not easy for her and both you and Beau respected that. With Yasha’s permission you took it slow still but eventually it became inevitable some of the members of the Nein would find you mid snog.

A moment spent together, relaxing Beau was the first to say it. “I’m just going to say it here and now because I know I’ve been thinking it for a long time now and am not going to beat around the bush anymore. I love you.” Turning to her surprised in the open confession you both smiled and laughed at Beau’s ‘awkward’ face waiting for any kind of response. Yasha and you were more than happy to return the words with many kisses, and a day (and night) well spent together.

Talks of a concrete future are difficult for all three of you but theorising about what it might be like after all of this is over, you decided to take it day by day, living in the now without any obligations or big goals. No dreams of playing happy family in a house with a picket fence. No, instead you’d spend your days together, maybe travel some more, spend time with the people you care about and love as family. Maybe one day you’ll settle down together. The only thing that matters to you is that you’re together and love each other. The angel and her ass kicking librarians.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #yasha x reader #beau x reader #beauregard x reader #critical role #mighty nein

52 notes · View notes

absoluteindulgence · 4 years

Text

AFK (Away From Keyboard)

A/N: My contribution to September’s first Freaky Friday (18+). New icon, who dis? I worked non-stop on this story; hopefully, y’all like it!

Pairings: Mirio Togata x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Quarantine Blues

Word Count: 3.4K

Quarantine hasn't been easy on you. You lost your job due to your line of work not being considered 'essential.' Although bummed about it, because it was a means to an end, you remembered the times you complained about the work and how some other workers didn't treat you fairly. But the realization of being home with your fiance, Mirio, had sparked comfort. Until you found out, he still had to work.

The pain of having to stay home alone while your sunny beau worked 24-Hour shifts every other day, saving lives as he remained one of the most reliable Firemen in Japan. You felt the sadness and loneliness from him not being home for so long. And most days, you stayed in bed, too sad to move around the empty home.

With time, you habitually set a routine, eat, sleep, check social media, then back to sleep. Until you came across a group chat accepting all and any fans of a game you fancied, it had been some time since you played, not having the energy to drag your ass out of the plush, king-size bed. You pondered whether to grab your laptop from your dusty work bag in the corner of your bedroom. Or to make the trip to your living room with your HQ computer.

Of course, you went for the latter. Throwing on your robe, walking to the living room seemed like a long trip, but sitting at the master computer made your nerves settle. Starting up the machine, you fiddle with your phone chatting with your new-found internet friends. After logging in, the rest was history.

You spent so much time online that the days where Mirio was home and not tired that you were too busy gaming to stop—practically ignoring him as he came within close contact of your hunched over body. You became a complete zombie to your favorite game that no longer became your hobby but now your never-ending job.

You clocked in and out, only being away from the screen to rest and use the bathroom. It became a problem that even Mirio could see; he didn't want to press the issue so harshly since he knew how the long hours had affected you, but seeing how less attention he got when home for more than 8-hours became troublesome.

Tonight, Mirio came home earlier than expected, his high energy shone throughout the home, yet you didn't flinch from your spot. Too focused on the glowing screen, to look his direction as he creeps up onto your left side with a delicate, yet tender kiss to your temple.

"Good evening, my love, have you eaten?" His bouncy, upbeat voice knocks you out of your trance.

You look up at him with low energy, replying with a mumble, "No."

"That's too bad, but no worries, I'm gonna order some food. Do you know what you want?" He walks away, fiddling with his phone, taking off his work uniform simultaneously.

You shrug with a monotone groan, your new way of saying that you have no preference. In case Mirio can't hear you, you utter louder, "I don't care."

"Okay, Babe, well, I guess I'll get your usual favorite." His grin is apparent when he speaks, playing off not getting acknowledged the way you used to before finding your obsessed hobby turned job.

You nod without notice and clack away at your keyboard, enamored in the chatroom. You occasionally smile while grabbing for your gaming controller; you're ready to start up another game as your group chat invites you. Happily obliging them, you've been added to the team and play a couple of rounds.

So focused on the game, you didn't hear your blond beau answer the door and walk to the kitchen as he carried two substantial brown paper bags with handles. He deftly set the bags onto the island counter, pulling out each takeout container with the same enthusiasm.

"Hey, Babe, dinner's here!" Your Sunshine called out to you from the kitchen.

Glued to your computer screen, you stammer, "O-okay, Babe, I'm coming."

Lying through your teeth, you sit unfazed by the world around you and only concentrate on what's in front of you. It is a crucial time as you're close to completing the umpteenth goal, your posture struggling as you slouch near the monitor to see better.

The site is genuinely unbecoming and catches Mirio's eye; he comes from behind, hugging you while grabbing onto your wrists. The sudden warmth shocks you but doesn't stop your fingers from shifting. A huff leaves Mirio's breath, tickling your neck's nape as he moves closer to its left side. His large hands grip your controller, nearly covering yours. It's vexatious, to say the least, your quest is near completion with an unbeatable high score.

Even with his hands on yours, you still maneuver the controller, eager to finish. No longer connected to your headset, you feel the sunny man nuzzle his nose close to your ear. A sensitive, weak spot that he's using as a means of leverage. Goosebumps emerge from your neck to your chest down to your arms as you try your best to overlook the familiar sensation.

A slightly annoying groan buzzes out his throat as you feign his attempts to distract you. He applies the slightest pressure to your hands, where you're no longer in control of your joypad movements.

"Since you're not ready to eat yet, I'd thought I'd help you instead." He smiled warmly, yet you felt on edge. "Don't worry, Babe, I got this!"

As you slightly turned to look at him, he portrayed a game face. He seemed confident to beat your current quest, his hands moved as if he knew what to do, so you relaxed. Turning back to the monitor, you watched in the marvel of his hidden gamer skills; he maneuvered so flawlessly that you were shocked. Until he died, on your last life, sending your game character to the loading screen.

"Mirio, what the hell?" You squeal in annoyance, louder than expected. "That was my last life!"

He musters out a roar of laughter that only infuriates you further as you cross your arms with a huff. "Aw baby, I'm sorry. I thought I had it, but it turns out I didn't know the controls that well."

He cuddles you close to his warm chest, still resisting his advances, he snuggles you tighter than his original bear hug. You try to wiggle your way out of his loveable grip as he chuckles at your efforts. He pulls you away from the master computer, using the handles on the rolling game chair you bought together one weekend.

He turns the chair around to survey your irritated, flustered face. "Hey, don't be mad. I just wanted to enjoy the game just like you. I see how enthralled you've been and wanted to see what the hype was about."

You're silent with a bratty pout on your lips, which he doesn't take seriously and plants a brief, loving kiss onto your forehead. He beams as he gets a better look at you: You grabbed one of his firemen in training sweatshirts earlier that day after taking a shower.

"I see that my Sunshine couldn't help but to represent me while I'm away at work." A sneaky grin stretched across his scruffy, blond stubble.

"If I told you I grabbed anything just to get closer to playing my game, would you believe me?"

"No, I wouldn't," He chuckled, "I know how much you miss me when I'm away."

His stare was a tad intense after finishing his reasoning, catching you off guard. Your antics of irritation cracked as you dropped your arms and rested your hands onto your thighs. You couldn't crack a smile; all the days blurred into one as you couldn't fathom being alone at home. That loneliness you ran away from came back to spill all of your secrets.

"You're right." Little droplets of water left your eyes, "I've missed you so much. I know that you're busy saving the world one fire at a time, but since this Quarantine, I've wished for us to be together, not that I wanted you to lose your job. I just wanted us to spend more time."

"I've been suffering in silence, not knowing what to say to you as you asked me if I was okay. I thought I could get better all by myself, and yet nothing was enough." You were sobbing between words, no longer able to keep your composure. "I finally dragged myself out of bed, trying to get comfortable. And I got carried away."

You wiped your eyes of tears, focusing on your breathing as much as possible. Trying not to draw out a panic attack, you felt a warmth come from all over. Mirio held you close to him, undistracted by you sitting in the chair. He exhaled heavily, kissing the side of your face with regard.

"I'm sorry that you held on to all that pain, Sunshine. It was never my intent to make you feel alone." He held onto you tighter, "There's not a minute, no, a second that passes by, that I don't think about you. "

The warmth from his burly arms and chest eased your heart, feeling safe and wanted. Your soon-to-be husband readjusted his hands to lift you out of the gaming chair. With a gentle grip, you were in his arms, cradled close to his chest. The blond looked down at you with a passionate smile, producing your heart to skip a beat. Mirio carried you bridal style until entering the bedroom you shared, considerately laying you down onto the bed. With so much space on the mattress, you wondered why you were the only one laying on it. Glancing upon your love near the footboard, you recognized his exact mood.

"Please, let me show you how much I've missed you." He slowly unbuckled his pants, "I've had so many thoughts about what I wanted to do to you."

His look went from lighthearted to a serene, sensual gaze. It's as if laying you on the bed changed his demeanor, creating a severely lustful tone to the air. Laying on the mattress, you felt yourself go into heat, just staring back at the blond beau. His face colored an incredible hue of pink as he pulled off his shirt, too impatient to keep it on any longer.

You stare in awe as the man of your dreams crawls on top of you. Bunching up the sweatshirt, he pushes the fabric up above your breasts set to litter them and your lips with fleeting kisses, prolonging your divine flesh cavern. Your peaks are between his callous hands as his nose pokes at your abdomen, inhaling their essential fragrance. You giggle under your breath at his prickly stubble tickling your skin.

"I've missed your pillows so much, Sunshine." He muffles, erupting laughter out of you. "Yeah, get all your giggles out now, Baby. Because in a moment, I'm gonna make you holler."

Kisses trace down your body, along your hips; although his kisses feel like a rush, they're thorough in savoring every part his lips touch and occasionally sticking his tongue out to lick the bare sections of your stomach. A gasp gets caught in your throat, and Mirio groans in response. It's evident; your body's pleasure gets handled like a refined, care package.

Reaching the waistband of your generic bottoms, he slid them off with little consideration of the fabric. No protest whatsoever as to his tug at your dainty boyshorts hastened another groan to his lips. His eyes glimmered, looking at your panties, admiring the soft, satin-like material popping out so lovely onto your skin tone.

"It's like you wore all this to taunt me, Sunshine." He chuckled under his breath, "Now you're in for it."

A hastily gentle pull to your panties made for a head-turning transformation, looking at Mirio now between your legs with his slippery, wet tongue on your pink pearl. Your thighs clamped shut onto his head as he feverishly licked at you with no hesitation as if the goal to make you cum was more important than breathing.

Your short breaths turned into loud gasps and moans, echoing the room with a ringing back into your ears. Your audio sent shockwaves through Mirio, pushing him to keep going and not stop until you made a mess around his mouth. Quick licks to your clit hardened your core so tightly you felt your stomach would resemble your blond hero's abs.

"You taste, so divine, my love."

Each word between each lick set out to destroy the sanity within you. The overstimulation drives you over the edge into massive wails as you try to push Mirio's head from between your legs. His grip moves from your hips to your thighs firmly. The warmth of his palms settles your need to keep him from helping you reach paradise.

That doesn't stop the sweat from dripping off your body or your bud from pulsing between his soft, thin lips. Reaching your peak, you clench onto his hair, moaning out his name, "M-mirio!"

Calling out to him made his tongue go into turbo mode. And with no warning, united two fingers into your slippery, silk igloo. A luxurious howl left your lips as you focused on your breathing, no longer holding onto his hair, but your breasts. Pinching at your nipples caused Mirio to look at you with concupiscence. His thick fingers were less than forgiving as you contracted around them and squirmed.

The tension building within your core couldn't manage the pumps advancing in you or that relentless tongue belonging to your sunny beau. Ready to burst, you cry out, "I need to cum!"

Nothing could prepare you for the orgasm you had: with eyes clenched closed and legs spread wide, hands clenched to the bedsheets, you blasted a grand amount of squirt infused cum out of your body.

Mirio's eyes widen as he pulls back to flick your clit back and forth using his right hand, spraying your love juice all over the sheets. Pushing out your last robust grunt before your legs collapse. Your breath hitches in your throat as you attempt to catch your breath.

"Damn, Sunshine, that was amazing." Mirio sits up, looking down at your worn-out body. His attraction for you gets the best of him as he puts his fingers in his mouth while keeping eye contact, "You even taste amazing too."

An arousing shockwave stings through your body as you look back into his beautiful, cerulean eyes. With little energy, you roll your index finger for him to come closer to you. He leaps at the opportunity, mushing his still wet face onto your sweaty one, scattering kisses over your lips and neck. He positions your legs for his love rod to glide into your aching junction in the moment's heat.

"Are you ready, Beauti-"

"-Yes, Mirio, don't make me wait any longer."

Your seductive face said all that your muscular fiance needed to hear. He slid his charmer in painfully slow, observing your hungry gaze, urging him to get harder and bottom you out immediately. Grunting in unison, came right after as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You kissed along his exposed neck, making light nibbles along his right side.

"F-Fuck."

His hips pivot into you, and a light moan fled your mouth as you prepped for his roughhousing. Leniency out the window as the sloshing from your essence screamed 'keep going!' to your blond hunk. So he obliged you: Acting as a home decorator, rearranging your furniture with each thrust. Your brows furrowed from the sensual pressure placed inside as you looked back into his eyes; the smirk on his equally sweaty face was too smug. Your face was always a dead giveaway to how much you enjoyed him; these nights were no different.

"Tell me how much you love when I'm deep inside you, Baby."

"Don't make me say it, Mir-, I'm a-already showing you." The heat was going straight to your head as he put you on the spot. If you could hide your face, you would.

"Oh no, my Sunshine. You don't get to avoid this." He raised his body off your frame, lifted one of your legs to sit up straight on his bulky chest, grinding into your junction with a rapid, rugged motion.

All words escaped you; keeping up the pace was all too hard as he rolled his hips into you, ruthless and playful all at once. The grip on your leg firm with each pump is very calculated and delicate. licking his lips, he asked, "Will you admit it now?"

Tucking in your lips, you shake your head in detest. It was unbelievable, and Mirio knew it; his chuckle echoed through the bedroom, "Okay."

Positioning your legs to point west from his Adonis belt, he maneuvered himself to stay connected to your golden arches. His last straw and ultimate trump card, fucking you from the side as he smiled from above you. The position relative to hitting it from the back, but with enough spine power, you can see your firemen in action. The clutch to your waist always took you for a ride, a prime example of your fiance's strength and control.

Soaked was an understatement as your muffled whines turned into hoarse wails of satisfaction. Just when you thought you lost your voice after the lip service, your ass bouncing off Mirio's skin flute created an orchestrated symphony of lovemaking reverberating through the house. Your neighbors would have to understand; there's no holding in how incredible this sexual bond is.

"I concede, Baby." While holding onto his forearm, you passionately gawk, "You feel so good deep inside of me!"

Self-satisfied, his movement accelerated, "That's what I like to hear, Sunshine."

The harmony of skin slapping, your juicy cream canal is sloshing against his cock, the various moans and grunts you're exchanging, setting you on edge. His eyes have a deep blue gaze, leaking of an overly seductive spirit.

"Fuck, Sunshine, I'm so close. Tell me how bad you want me to pound your pretty pussy, and I will."

"Mirio, please," You grab onto one of his hands, freeing them from the grip on your thigh and placing his thumb into your mouth while sucking it, "Put my fire out."

Ironically igniting him with a trump card of your own, his pace heightened past your comprehension. Once again, your coil wound up, becoming tighter with each thrust, unbearable to endure for another moment and remaining to suck Mirio's thumb in hopes of feeling sweet deserved deliverance. The pounds from Mirio's powerful thighs were likening heavily wooded paddles sure to leave a mark.

A charge of sexual energy swelled between you two as your bodies went into a complete frenzy. The hand on your thigh moved up onto your waist with more intensity placed to your backside and your core getting the brunt of it all. Feeling Mirio expand and twitch inside indicated how close he was, and your coil had just snapped. Mirio pulls out of you, shooting his load all over your ass and thighs.

The warm puddle of white gold spills over to the front of your leg, trickling down your thighs; you watch as your fiance readjusts himself, "Shit, that was a lot. Let me get a cloth."

Less gracefully, he rolls off the king-sized bed disappearing out the room and returning with a stack of baby wipes. The cleanup is gentle and thorough as you smile at him, still savoring your orgasm. He throws them away into a trash bin near his nightstand, noting to flush them later. He crawls behind you, cradling your naked body close to his. You're melting within his embrace, feeling complete comfort.

"You know, Babe," He rubs your thigh soothingly as you quietly hum, "You didn't tell your teammates what happened after you died."

"Well, I can tell them tomorrow, no big deal."

"Well, you're right, but what if I told you, you weren't on mute?"

Your eyes shot open, "What?"

"I'm kidding, Babe! You unplugged your headset, remember?"

"Mirio, my heart just dropped to my ass, please don't scare me like that."

His familiar laugh vibrated through the room, "Sorry, Babe, I couldn't help myself! Are you ready to eat now? We've worked up quite the appetite."

He lazily winked, you giggled and nodded, "I hope you got my favorite!"

"So you heard, nothing I said when I got home, huh?"

"I didn't say that." You try to hide your face, resulting in Mirio tickling you into admitting it.

#mirio x reader #togata mirio x reader #Mirio Togata #bnha mirio #togata mirio imagine #mirio imagine #absoluteindulgence stories

337 notes · View notes

snelbz · 4 years

Text

The Ranch {9}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

At nine forty five, Cassian heard a knock at his door. He was off the couch and had it flung open before the third rap against the wood.

He was surprised to see Emerie on the other side.

He groaned. “Em, this really isn’t a good time.”

She breezed by him. “It’s a perfect time. Sit down.” She indicated the couch.

Cass just stared at her. “No, you don’t understand, I don’t have time for a quick fu-.”

“Do you love her?” She cut him off and as her words hung in the air, Cassian contemplated them.

“I- No, not yet. But, I-,” he paused and sighed. “No, but I could.”

Emerie’s face softened. “I didn’t mean to cause you problems.” She sat down on the couch and, knowing there wasn’t about to be an ambush, Cassian sat down next to her. “You didn’t answer your phone, so I thought I’d just run by. I’m sorry, I had no idea she was back.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, and he meant it. Emerie had no way of knowing what she was walking into that day. “It’s not that I don’t like what we’ve had, Em, and we’ve always been great friends-”

“Friends,” she interrupted, chuckling. “Just friends, that’s all we’ve been, what we’ve always been, since high school, so...stop making this sound like a break-up, please.”

Despite his current mood of feeling like shit, Cassian laughed. “Yeah, alright.”

“You should talk to her,” Emerie said, giving him a pointed look. “It was so uncomfortably obvious that she cares about you, too.”

But Cassian shook his head. “I don’t know what that woman feels. She’s already turned me down once….I mean, as things are getting heated and we’re about to have sex, she turned me down.”

Emerie bit on her bottom lip to keep from smiling. “Ouch.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, thanks for not laughing.”

That laughter sputtered out of her mouth, but her eyes were soft as she adjusted herself on the couch to face him. “Look, Cass, I’ve known you for a long time, and I have never seen you look at a woman the way I saw you look at her.”

“What’s your point?” he mumbled, face falling into his hands. “Is it too early for whiskey?”

“Never,” Emerie chuckled, rolling her eyes as she pulled Cassian’s face up to meet her gaze. “It’s never too early. And my point is, dumbass, is that you’re falling in love with her, and if you don’t do something about it, I will personally kick your ass.”

Cassian blinked, staring at her as she held his cheeks in her hands. “I’m pretty sure you missed the part where I said she turned me down.”

“So, what?” Emerie said, shrugging, as if it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “Feelings change, and they develop, and Nesta Archeron has feelings for you. That much was obvious when she stared at me with daggers in her eyes.” Emerie’s grin faltered. “It was actually pretty terrifying.”

Cassian laughed, under his breath. “Yeah, she has that effect on people.”

She patted his knee and stood up. “Don’t get me wrong, I hate that our little agreement is coming to a close. Do you know how hard it’s going to be to find someone who can deal with my work schedule and make me cum?” She threw her head back and groaned, but looked back to where he was sitting on the couch. She smirked. “I thought you were supposed to catch feelings for the person you’re actually sleeping with.”

He scratched the back of his neck and said, sheepishly, “Listen, Em, it’s not that I don’t find you-.”

“Oh hush,” she said, heading for the door. “I’m not cut out for the ranch life. This girl was made for the city.” She opened the door, the light from the cabin flooding out and lighting up the front yard. “Now, go talk to her before she goes to sleep.”

————

Nesta watched as the black truck bumped along the driveway, throwing dirt from under the tires. The headlights disappeared into the darkness and she swallowed hard.

She had come back, had spent a good while in Cassian’s cabin, and now she was leaving, once more. Nesta didn’t want to think about what had gone on during their time together, especially after she left things with Cassian hours before, but her mind wandered.

Nesta didn’t know what she hated more: that she had feelings for him, or that she deserved the angry words he’d spat at her that afternoon. He was right. She had shut him down, there was no reason why she shouldn’t want him to be with other women. He deserved as much. Then again, she had thought, had been so certain, that he had felt something for her, too.

She could feel it.

When he looked at her, when those snarky hazel eyes grew soft, she could nearly hear his heart crying out for hers.

Now, as she watched Emerie’s truck disappear, she felt stupid.

That feeling only grew worse as the door to Cassian’s cabin opened again and he stepped out. He spotted her right away, sitting on her little porch in her rocking chair, and swore under his breath. The panic in his eyes didn’t stop him, though, as he trudged down the stairs, hands in his pockets, and meandered toward her across the grass.

Beau, completely unaware of the tension, was running around, wildly, chasing a squirrel.

When Cassian stopped at the bottom of her steps, he said, “Hey.”

The air around them was thick, humid and charged with electricity. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “I… I can’t do this tonight,” she said, voice sounding weary. She stood from the chair and turned to go inside.

“Why do you always run from me?”

She froze, right in front of the screen door. It was a question she had been asked a million times, had asked herself a million times. Why do you always run?

She slowly turned to face him, and was met with such longing and desperation in his hazel eyes. If she walked inside, if she ran away, that would be the end of it.

If she kept running from him, he eventually wouldn’t come back, and Nesta couldn’t bear that thought.

At the bottom of the steps, Cassian was still looking up at her, waiting, patiently, but she didn’t know what to say. There were a million things she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to put them into words. That overwhelming sense of emotion flooded her, that panic, and her eyes lined with tears. She shook her head, hastily, as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth to keep it from trembling.

“Fuck, please, just talk to me,” he said, taking a step toward her, putting one boot on the wooden step.

She shook her head and the tears spilled over, staining her cheeks. She laughed, but the sound was empty, hollow. “I hope you had fun with Emerie.”

By the time Cassian realized what she was implying, she’d already started for the door. “Nesta, no, that’s not why she came back.” She shut the door with a soft thud. He heard the lock click into place and he was immediately up the stairs, slamming his fist into the door. “You’re so fucking stubborn, please, just let me explain.”

Nesta kept still, her back against the door as it vibrated from his first forcefully making contact with the wood.

“Please,” he begged, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t put herself in that situation, wouldn't put herself in that situation, not again.

Cassian finally stopped knocking, but when she peeked out of the little window at the top of the door, he was still standing there, his forehead leaning against the door.

“We didn’t do anything,” he called, through the door. “Alright? She came back to tell me I was a fucking idiot.”

Well, she wasn’t going to argue with him there.

Her little house was lit up as lightning struck somewhere on the property, thunder rumbling almost immediately.

“I don’t want her,” he said, and the rain began to fall. Anything else he said was drowned out as the bottom dropped out and the rain began to pour. She could hear that he was still out there, hear that he was still talking to her.

Another flash of lightning, followed by a roll of thunder. It was closer than it had been, that lightning, and Nesta squeezed her eyes shut as the small house shook.

When she reopened them, she leaned back against the door, sliding down it and letting her head fall into her hands resting on her knees.

He hadn’t slept with Emerie. She’d come back, and whether she admitted it or not, she would have if she were her. She knew Emerie wasn’t blind, she could see what was in front of her. But Emerie was stunning herself, with her feminine, soft curves and bedroom eyes.

He hadn’t chosen Emerie.

He didn’t want Emerie.

He wanted her.

And Cauldron damn the consequences, she wanted him, too.

She realized that she could no longer hear him on the other side, could no longer hear anything but the storm outside.

She scrambled to her feet and threw the door open, looking for him.

He was nowhere to be seen.

She cried, “Cassian?” but there was no answer.

She waited, looking out into the pasture, unable to see thanks to the rain and the vast darkness. When she realized she couldn’t find him, she stepped out into the rain and ran.

She hadn’t gotten far when she noticed him, walking up to the main house, Beau on his heels.

“Cassian!” she called.

And he turned around, eyes going wide. He didn’t hesitate as he jogged back toward where she stood, in the middle of the grass, completely drenched.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, loudly, to be heard above the downpour. “You should be insi-”

But his words were cut off, because Nesta had taken his face into her hands and pulled his mouth to hers. She kissed him, hungrily, ignoring everything else, ignoring the rain, the lightning, the thunder, the thoughts of insecurity and doubt lingering in the back of her mind.

At first, his body tensed, but it quickly relaxed, and his arms wrapped around her waist.

Nesta had never been good with words, with expressing any sort of emotion, but she would show him how she felt, and would give herself to him to devour, in hopes that he understood. That she trusted him.

Cassian’s lips trailed from her mouth to her neck, as he lifted her up, and her legs wrapped around his waist, just above his jeans. She clung to him, tangled her fingers into his wet, messy hair, as he carried her, slowly, through the storm, back to the ranch house.

He climbed the stairs of the big wraparound porch and pulled open the storm door, neither of them flinching as it widened and creaked loudly. Never once did he let her slip as he managed to unlock the main door and enter, pressing her back against the wall by the door.

One hand was gripping her ass, the other threaded into her drenched hair. He kissed her wildly, passionately, and it left Nesta breathless. If he kissed like this, she wondered what it was like when he fucked.

He pulled away, just enough for them to both gasp for air, and he breathed, “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

Nesta didn’t say a word. She just leaned up and captured his lips in another bruising kiss.

It was all the permission he needed.

His tongue slid between her lips as he took the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head, and her hands were already roaming Cassian’s back, feeling the hard muscles beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. He held her up against the wall with his hips as he threw her tank top on the floor, and unclasped her bra, making it scarce.

He admired her breasts then, as he had done those weeks ago, but this time, she wouldn’t tell him to stop.

“What?” She breathed. Her whisper was quiet, almost unable to be heard over the rain outside.

“I’m still waiting for you to disappear, for you to dissolve in my fingertips.” He softly ran a thumb over her peaked nipple. She bit down the moan building inside of her. “I need to know this is real. I need to know that you aren’t going anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she breathed, shaking her head, slowly. “I’m not leaving.”

She slid his shirt up, slowly, revealing the black ink swirled across his chest. He lifted his arms, and when his shirt was tossed aside, she ran her fingers over the intricate designs. Cassian watched her, lips parted, breathing ragged.

“I want you,” she whispered, her hands going still, and when her eyes connected with his, her delicate fingers trailed lower, down his abdomen, to the waistband of his jeans, where they slowly undid the button, the zipper.

Cassian grabbed her wrists and pulled them back up, over her head. His body pressed hers harder against the wall, and her legs wrapped tighter around him as he whispered, “Thank the fucking Cauldron.”

He kissed her with a gentleness she wasn’t expecting, loving the way his lips were constantly moving against hers, on her skin. Tasting, teasing, taunting. When he kissed a path down the column of her throat and his lips closed around the spot where her neck met her shoulder, she was no longer able to stop the moan that she let out.

That moan was Cassian’s undoing.

He kissed her with such a ferocity that she was unable to stop her hips from writhing.

She pulled away, gasping. “Please, please, please.” He released her wrists and her arms wrapped around him, nails scratching at his back. “Cassian, please.”

His eyes met hers, wild and desperate, but he said nothing. His chest rose and fell with every breath. At last, he nodded, slowly, after searching her eyes, once more.

I’m not going anywhere.

Gods, she meant it.

He carried her to the couch, his eyes on hers as he walked, his breath hot against her skin. She clung to him, desperately, afraid if she let go something would happen, again.

Cassian fell back on the couch, and Nesta straddled his waist, fully aware of how hard he’d become inside of his jeans. He went to kiss her, but she pushed him back, and when a look of confusion crossed Cassian’s face, she smirked.

She stood, between his open legs, and unbuttoned her jean shorts before slipping the soaked denim down her legs. Cassian watched attentively with a primal gaze. With an outstretched, steady hand, he traced the lines of her thong with his fingertips.

“Perfect,” he breathed, so quietly that Nesta wondered if he even knew he spoke the thought aloud.

“Your turn,” she said, as he teased a finger in the waistband of the lace.

He looked up at her, letting his eyes rove over her body. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip, and he stood.

One by one, he toed his drenched boots off and kicked them to the side, not caring where they landed and unzipped his jeans the rest of the way. He paused, catching Nesta staring, and when he caught her eye, he smirked and shucked his heavy jeans off.

Nesta forgot how to breathe. She forgot how to move. She forgot how to do anything that didn’t include worshipping the body before her in any way possible.

She blinked away the shock and cleared her throat, before saying, “So. You don’t wear underwear?”

That smirk hadn’t left his face and he said, “Oh, I do, they’re in my jeans. I just couldn’t wait any longer to see your reaction to…” His eyes flicked down to where his cock stood at attention.

Nesta huffed a laugh and shook her head, tiptoeing closer to him. Her fingers brushed along his chest, and she walked around him to finish observing the view. Her fingers trailed down his shoulder, down his back, across his ass - his beautiful, perfect, sculpted ass. He shuddered beneath her touch.

This Nesta, this beautiful, emboldened woman, this was his Nesta from the pasture earlier. Someone who isn’t afraid to laugh and touch and play. And play they would.

As she stepped back around him, Cassian scooped her up in his arms and dropped her on the couch. Before she had time to orient herself, he was there again, this time on top of her. He gave her just enough of his weight to press her into the cushions, to keep her in place, lips crashing into hers. His hand skimmed down her side, leaving goosebumps in its wake, until he reached the lace of her panties. He ran a finger under the front waistband and then traced it over the fabric, over her most sensitive area. She whimpered against his lips, his kiss drowning out any sounds she made. Pulling the fabric to the side, he slipped a finger between her folds, her slick heat meeting him.

He broke the kiss, growling, “You’re fucking soaked.”

Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut, her lips open. “You’ve been teasing me.”

“The only tease here is you,” he growled, pumping his finger inside of her, then two, and three, as his lips found her neck and trailed down her body. He took the waistband of the thin lace into his teeth and pulled them down.

Cassian didn’t warn her as he spread her legs attached his mouth to her sex. He circled her clit with his tongue, still pumping his fingers in and out of her and he listened as her moans echoed around the empty house. Pulling his lips away, he pressed his thumb to her clit as he slid his fingers in and out of her. He turned his head to the side and kissed the inside of her thigh, sucking and teasing. Without warning, he bit the sensitive skin, causing Nesta to cry out and clench around his fingers.

He groaned at how tight she was, the way she tasted, the way she smelled and the noises she made. He kissed a path back up her body, still pumping his fingers in and out, faster and faster every time. His lips brushed hers and he breathed, “Are you close?” Yes,” she breathed, unable to control her voice, unable to control any of the noises pouring out of her mouth. “Fuck, yes. Fuck me.” Her words were shaky, unstable. She wanted him inside of her, needed him inside of her, couldn’t think of anything else.

“Say ‘please’,” Cassian crooned. He stilled his fingers inside of her and at her disappointed whimper, he brushed his fingertip over that elusive spot inside that Nesta had only dreamed of. She gasped and began to writhe, chest heaving, and he could tell she was right on the edge of ecstasy. He stopped with no warning.

Nesta snapped her head up to look at him. “Wha- Why did you stop?

“Do you want to cum?”

“Cauldron, yes,” Nesta groaned. It had been so long since something had given her an orgasm that wasn’t made of plastic or her own hand.

He slowly stroked inside her once more, then began to slowly roll his thumb over her clit. “Then all you gotta say is ‘please”, darlin’.”

Nesta could hardly get the word out. “Please.” Her voice broke, hardly able to form words over every other sound tumbling from her mouth.

“I can’t hear you,” Cassian whispered, thumb rolling faster. Nesta cried out. “Say please.”

Her back arched as her fingers dug into his dripping hair. “Please!” she gritted out, eyes shut, yanking on his hair with such force that he groaned.

Her body felt lighter, like she was floating on air, as the tension in her body slowly began to fade.

She cried out as she came around his fingers. He pumped slower as she did so, watching her eyes widen as her climax took hold. She worked to steady her breathing as her eyes fluttered shut, and his fingers moved, slowly, tauntingly, in and out. When Cassian pulled his fingers out, Nesta’s eyes shot open, just as he moved them to his mouth and sucked off her juices.

Her chest was heaving and her eyes slipped closed as she caught her breath. Cassian couldn’t help but stare at her body; at the tight, sleek lines of her toned stomach; at her long, tanned legs; at her pretty, pink pussy, which was the best fucking thing he’d ever tasted. But her breasts…

Gods, those fucking breasts.

Those breasts had been on his mind every time he’d had to take care of himself in the past few weeks, but seeing them again, tasting them, watching them move with every steadying breath she took…

“You’re thinking about fucking my tits, aren’t you?”

Cassian’s gaze snapped to hers, smirking at him from where she’d propped herself up on her arms.

His eyebrow raised and he said, “I wasn’t, but now I definitely am.”

She laughed, and sat up on the couch, letting him sit down next to her. He didn’t know why he was expecting it to be awkward, why he was expecting her to have changed her mind and run buckass naked out into the storm.

He wasn’t expecting her to flip over and lay on her stomach, breasts pressed against his thighs. He wasn’t expecting her to reach a delicate hand out and grip his cock. And he sure as fuck wasn’t expecting her to wrap those full lips around the head and suck.

But that’s exactly what she did.

He stared, watching her intently, their eyes connected. He was fairly certain he wasn’t breathing as her tongue slowly danced around the head of his cock. His head fell back against the couch cushions, his eyes slowly closing.

The sound that left his body was inhumane as his dick filled her mouth, her head bobbing up and down, that wild tongue gliding over his sensitive skin.

His abdomen contracted as she took him farther into her mouth, and he swore under his breath as his eyes opened and he stared down at her. He could swear there was a laughter in her eyes as she continued to bob her head up and down his considerable length.

“Are you trying to tease me now?” He asked, voice husky. She hummed in response and the vibrations had one of his hands gripping her hair in a hand. The other, he reached over and gripped her ass, firmly squeezing. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Because two can play that game, sweetheart.” He pressed his hand between her legs and trailed a finger along her entrance, swirling it around her clit.

She moaned, lips still around his cock and she nearly swallowed him whole.

He swore, voice low, his fingers intertwined into her hair gripping the strands with far more force, causing Nesta to whimper against him.

All he could think about was how he would feel inside of her. She was so wet, so ready, and he was nearly about to combust.

She moaned around his cock, her eyes shut desperately as the finger he used to circle her clit kept steady.

He gently rolled his hips into her mouth. She gagged, eyes flying open to meet his, once more, as one of her hands met his thigh, nails gripping into his tanned skin, the other cupping his balls.

“If you keep doing that,” he growled, eyes nearly black in his lust for her. “I’m going to be coming down your throat instead of on your tits.”

Nesta removed him from her mouth, nearly gasping for air as the head popped out of her mouth. The second she had moved, he was gripping her shoulders, pulling her onto his lap, his lips crashing into hers. She ground down against him, his erection sliding against her opening, so close to where she needed him.

He gripped her hips and rocked her back and forth against his length, the tip rubbing her clit with every pass, causing her eyes to flutter shut as he brought her right to the peak again.

“Are you close, Nesta?” The words were a hiss, his teeth clenched together. Her head was thrown back, chest heaving. She nodded. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

She groaned, “Gods, yes, please.”

Without warning, he lifted her hips and slammed his cock inside of her.

She cried out, her fingernails digging into his shoulders to keep from losing herself completely. His name tumbled from her lips, nearly lost in the continuous moan that she couldn’t control. She rode his length, as Cassian held onto her hips, his face nestled between her breasts. He bit into her skin, nipped at her tits with gentle teeth as he groaned, voice low, shamelessly. His curses filled the air as Nesta clenched around his cock.

He breathed her name, and Nesta felt ready to explode into a million pieces.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, burying his face between her breasts. His hands moved farther back, gripping the swell of her ass and Nesta bounced quicker and quicker. “Are you going to come again?”

“Yes, yes,” she gasped, wrapping her arms around his head, nearly suffocating him with her tits.

He’d stopped moving, content to let her use him for her pleasure. He lavished her skin, his tongue circling her peaked nipple and he sucked it into his mouth. She clenched around him, moaning his name, and watching her unravel around him, letting her use him as her own personal sex toy, it felt almost as good as ramming his cock into her had felt.

Almost.

As she shattered, as her climax tore through her and she cried out, his name a prayer on her lips, he gripped her ass and stood.

Her back hit the wall and she moaned as he fucked her with no abandon, slamming into her at a relentless, unforgiving pace. His lips found her neck, followed by his teeth and he sucked, unable to stop himself from leaving a mark, from claiming the beautiful woman in his arms for all to see.

Nesta’s hand roamed his back, the other tangled into his damp hair. Her lips tumbled open, but nothing came out as his hips continued to thrust into hers. A string of curse words were muttered into the skin of her neck.

She clung to him, eyes snapped shut, unable to breathe as he groaned into her neck. His lips left her skin as he abruptly pulled out, then he fell into her body as he came, his hips moving slowly as his cock slid beneath her, between her folds, riding out his climax.

He fell against her then, eyes closed, lips still open against her neck, unmoving. She could feel his heart beating against her as they tried to catch their breath in the silence, nothing but the storm raging outside and heavy, shaking, panting to be heard.

“Fuck,” he finally breathed, lifting his head to look at her. There was nothing but pure ecstasy in those stormy eyes. He carefully set her on her feet and stepped back, watching as she leaned heavily against the wall. He smirked. “Legs not working?”

Her response was a breathy chuckle. “No, not quite. I don’t think they’ll be back to normal until tomorrow morning.”

Cassian let his gaze travel down her body, pausing as he saw the trail of mosisture running down her thighs, a mix of both her and him. The sight had his cock hardening again already.

“Oh, darlin’,” he crooned, pulling her against him and nipping at her earlobe. “What makes you think you’ll be getting any rest between now and tomorrow morning?”

Nesta chuckled, letting him scoop her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist.

His eyes met hers, and he kissed her, once, before she whispered, “Take me upstairs.”

________

There was no more fucking. Nesta was fairly certain if there was she wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.

But he had carried her upstairs and laid her down in her old bedroom. They found themselves beneath the blankets, the rain pouring outside the large window as they laid awake in a comfortable silence, Nesta wrapped in Cassian's arms.

Which is exactly where she woke up.

He was still asleep, one of his long, heavy legs draped over her, holding her in place. His handsome face looked almost boyish in peaceful sleep, and Nesta hesitated to disturb him, but the sun had been creeping across the wall for almost thirty minutes now.

She pressed soft kisses to his cheeks, over the stubble dusting his jaw, to his forehead and eyelids, until he began to stir.

He groaned as his eyes fluttered open. He met Nesta’s amused gaze with a sleepy one of his own.

“Good morning,” he muttered, voice raspy, quiet, burying his face back into the pillow.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

Beau had made himself comfortable after helping himself through the doggy door the night before after they’d left him outside in the rain due to their beautiful, lustful distraction. He was now sleeping soundly at the foot of the bed.

Cassian reached up and brushed Nesta’s hair out of her face. For a moment, neither of them said a word. Then, Cassian asked, “Sleep good?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. Perfect.

“Good,” he breathed. “Me too.”

“You look like you’re surprised I’m still here,” she mumbled, and Cassian’s fingers froze from where they were trailing down her cheek.

Then he laughed, quietly. “Not surprised. Happy, though.” He tentatively leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, gauging her reaction. When she responded, letting her lips move against his own, he rolled on top of her, running a hand down her still naked body. He paused and pulled away, looking at the window. “Shit, what time is it?”

“Like, six-fifteen,” she admitted.

Cassian’s eyes went wide. “I have to get up, I didn’t mean to sleep this late.”

Nesta’s smile was soft. “I figured. You go get started, I’ll make you some breakfast.”

A dark eyebrow rose. “Sex and breakfast? What’s the catch?”

Nesta stilled from where she was rolling off the bed. “Do you want there to be a catch?”

Cassian grinned. “No.”

“Then don’t ask questions,” she said, laughing under her breath as she scurried from the room, fully aware that Cassian was watching her go.

Ten minutes later, she stood in the kitchen, wearing her mother’s robe once again, a pot of coffee brewing in the corner, and bacon sizzling in the pan on the stove. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she jumped slightly as he rested his head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She shook her head. “I just didn’t hear you. I sometimes space out when I’m cooking.”

She transferred the bacon to a plate, dabbing it with paper towels to remove the excess grease, before cracking three eggs directly into the pan. He poured himself a cup of coffee and watched her as he pulled his boots on. She glanced over her shoulder and looked at him, biting down the laugh that tried to bubble out of her.

His clothes were horribly wrinkled from where they’d been thrown to the side last night, but at least they were dry.

She pulled a couple of tortillas from the fridge and wrapped the food, handing him the two warm bundles. He took them and smiled. She smiled back.

An awkward silence filled the kitchen and they looked at each other and started laughing. He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Let me take you to dinner tonight.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and she nodded, a grin spreading across her face. “I’d like that.”

#the ranch nessian #shara collab #shara tag #tacmc x throne of ashes and beauty #toab tacmc collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #nessian

349 notes · View notes

getyouasenju · 3 years

Text

Dearly Beloved

We gather here..

Warnings: Profanity, Angst

Word Count: 3k

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – :

I smiled at myself in the mirror. wow. I looked gorgeous, I had to admit it. I wasn't the most confident woman in the world, but even I had to give myself props. Ino was a truly miracle maker with that makeup brush of hers. I calmly brush my fingers across my face as I admired the woman standing before me. Running my hands down my sides, I feel the lace and beading of my beautiful white dress. It was perfect, I was perfect- not a hair out of place. The dress, the hair and the makeup were to die for. Reaching out, I grabbed the beautiful earrings to complete my look. Glancing at the clock on the wall in front of me, I start to worry. When would Ino be back with my bouquet? As if my mind were being read, the door clicked out. I smiled widely to myself in the mirror. I knew she would come through! "How do I look?" I start to speak as I turn around to greet my maid of honor, and my breath caught in my throat.

"You look stunning."

I backed up and placed my hand on the wall for support. This was not ino. I furrowed my brow and looked at the man standing before me. "W-what are you doing in here!" I half shouted at the man, "You shouldn't be here." I finish. My eyes run over his body, analyzing him. He was dressed up, grey turtleneck, black suit, a handkerchief neatly folded within, and his regular pony tail. He almost looked ready for the wedding. Except for the fact that he wasn't invited. We stood in silence for a moment before he fully stepped in and closed the door.

Now I was pissed. "Hey! You open that door right now Shikamaru Nara!" I shriek at him, but he still stays silent as he looks over my body. I was getting frustrated as the time went by, what the hell did he want? Pushing off the wall, I crossed my arms over my chest and sneered at him. "How did you even get in here?" He shrugs his shoulders and gave me a short reply, "Doesn't take a genius to figure out." I scoffed at the cocky man. How could he be making comments like that in a this like this? In a place like this?

"Well, what do you want? I have somewhere to be- obviously." I tried keeping my resolve even though my entire body was humming with anxiety from his presence. He sighed, wiping his hands down his handsome face. "I can't let you do this." he finally pushes out. So that's what this is about. I laugh at him, he has officially lost his god damn mind.

"Let me? You can't let me do this, huh?" I shake my head, insulted that he would even think he could make any kind of demand to me. Maybe once upon a time, long, long ago- but not now. "and why is that Shikamaru? Because you love me so much right?" I finish. If he thought he could just waltz in here on my wedding day like this... and where was ino with my flowers god damn it! "If you're done making an ass out of both of us, then I think it's time for your grand exit. If you leave right now, I'll forget you ever showed your face here." I try to bargain with the pony tailed man, waving my hand in his face as I turned back to the mirror and primping myself.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and he took a couple of steps towards me, but I held up my hand in the mirror. "That's close enough, Nara." I commanded. "J-just what are you trying to pull here!" I nervously let out, keeping my head down and my expression out of his view. Taking his hands out his pockets, he quickly stepped forward ignoring my warning and placed his hands on my waist. Oh absolutely not!

With a quick spin I smack his hands off of me “Keep your hands to yourself!” I growl out, balling my fist up and shaking it in his face. Jamming my finger into his chest I straighten up and look him in the eyes, “You had your chance. You made it clear that you and I want different things ....or maybe you just didn’t want them with me.” I whispered that last part. What ever his situation was, I didn’t want to hear it at the moment. I just wanted to walk down the aisle, say my vows, eat my wedding cake and go on a much needed vacation. What I didn’t need was a wedding crasher.

He looked stunned. “So that’s what you think? That I don’t love you? That I don’t want to be with you? Look at me (Y/N), I’m here! Isn’t that enough?” I look up to him confused at his outburst. I scoffed again “Okay, so what now? Are you going to marry me yourself now Shikamaru?- Oh wait!” I suck in a gust of air, placing my finger on my chin as I fake being in deep thought, “You don’t want to marry me! There, case closed, are you ready to leave my presence yet?” I was becoming impatient, we’ve already had this conversation before and I wasn’t about to repeat it.

Closing his eyes and letting his shoulders drop slightly, he opens his mouth to respond “There’s more to life than marriage, (Y/N).” My eyes widened as I paused. Suddenly I let out a loud bitter laugh as I stepped closer to him. “More to life than...” I couldn’t contain myself, next thing I knew- I was beating my hands on his chest yelling at him. How could he make comments to me like that? “How dare you! How fucking dare you say that to me!” I shout in between my assault. “You were with Temari a year! one single fucking year before you proposed to her! I gave you three years of my life and got nothing!” I screamed.

Glaring at me Shikamaru snatches my hands in his own. “Yeah, and look were that proposal got us? Do you see her anywhere?” he hissed out at me. Snatching my hands back sneering at him I bark out a reply. “Why must I pay the price for her fucking mistakes! You’re a fucking genius yet you can’t separate her and I.” Leaning forward and pointing my finger in his face once again I continued. “Now where have your actions gotten you, huh? You’re crashing your ex girlfriend’s wedding when It should be you waiting at that altar for me!” Wait, that’s not what I meant to say! “Oh yeah? and you think you’ve got it all figured out, right? You can’t separate love from marriage!” He challenges back at me. Oh you little.. “If you loved me, you would marry me Shikamaru, It’s not that hard.” He was the one sneering at me this time around. “And when you pull your head out of your ass, you’d realize a title doesn’t mean shit.” he hisses out at me. “Yeah, well it means a lot to me..” I quietly reply. My chest was heaving at this point. Who the hell does he think he was? “More than what we have?” He asked me. “Had” I corrected him sighing.

“Temari and I were fine before I proposed, everything was perfect and that stupid fucking proposal ruined everything! I don’t want that to happen to us- It complicates everything!” I was baffled that he was still mentioning her to me. “Oh because everything is so peachy between us right now? I’m standing in a fucking wedding dress aisle ready- for another man!” I screech out. He groans loudly “Yeah because you’re so blinded by your want to be connected with your parents that you’re too blind to see we already have what they did and we don’t need to get married to prove it!” He was breathing hard by this point.

“Am I not good enough to be your wife? Is that what you came here to do? Rub it in my face that I’ll never be enough for you Shikamaru?” He steps extremely close to my face “That’s the entire point. I’m trying to tell you that being together is enough, you’re enough for me. Always have been, always will be.” It felt like my heart was touching the back of my chest. “But it’s not enough for me Shikamaru.”

Our heads snapped to the door as it popped open. “I got the flowers (Y/N)! Aren’t they just beau-” Ino stops mid sentence as her eyes land on the scene before her. The two ex lovers standing awfully too close. “Oh.. Shikamaru, what are you doing here?” Taking in his dressed up appearance she continues, “Have you come to attend the ceremony?” She asked him genuinely confused. I snorted wiping my nose. I hadn’t noticed I’d been crying until now. My makeup! leave it to him to ruin things! Ino takes notice of my ruined face and quickly placed the flowers down. “Shikamaru, I think you should go find a seat now. I need to fix her makeup. Shoo!” She dismisses him as she moves to fix my ruined face. He hesitates, looking at my face while I avoid his gaze before he slowly makes his escape.

Sitting down, Ino gets to work on me. The once light and joyful mood was now dark and gloomy. Ino steps back and stares at my face. “Is it that bad?” I joke with her. She shakes her head and I was puzzled, what? “He loves you a lot, ya know.” I deadpanned “Well I sure hope he does cause the wedding is in like forty minutes.” Ino sighs and puts the makeup brush down, gently grabbing my hand. “Not him, but I think you know this.” I grimaced “Not you too. I just can’t catch a break today, geez.” Rolling my eyes I pulled my hand back gently.

“He’s just.. I think he’s just scared.” She continues. “Ino... you know how much marriage means to me. He knows that too.” I sigh and wrap my arms around myself. It was true, marriage meant so much to me. My parents were married for twenty one years before they died in the war. I wanted what they had so bad. I promised myself I would have that. “I know, I know. You want a love like them, something strong, But let me ask you. You might get the marriage you want today, but will you get the love you deserve tomorrow?” My heart sank. Omoi was a nice man, I met him through Chōji when he and Karui started dating, they were siblings. He was strong he treated me well, he was respectful and he wanted to marry me. It seemed like a dream.

“He was so distraught when Temari broke the engagement, but then he fell for you. I was so sure you two would make it.” I looked up form my hands to the blonde as she spoke. “I know he doesn’t do things by the book, he was never one to pay attention in school.” We both giggle at her remark. “But I know he loves you more than anything in the entire world. Omoi is great- don’t get me wrong, but If you’re just marrying him because he wants to marry you, then I don’t think you two would be anything like your parents, (Y/N).” I was confused and a little upset at her comment, I went to speak but she went on.

“Your parents married for love, true love. Not saying you don’t love Omoi, but not the way you love Shikamaru.” She was right, I was still in love with the idiot. He words resonated with me.. I wanted what my parents had- love. They had a genuine love for each other, I don’t think a marriage defined that. I was basing my happiness off of title, not the work that goes into it. My face started to heat up as I stared back at ino, realization coming to my mind. I wanted to be with Shikamaru, ring or not, but I was terrified. My anxiety started to creep into my chest, everyone was waiting for me to walk down the aisle and I couldn’t. And I had already sent Shikamaru away.

The door opened again revealing my other three bridesmaids, Hinata, Sakura and Tenten. Turning my head to look at them, one glance and they already knew. “She isn’t doing it is she?” Sakura asked with an... excited tone? “Well, good cause this dress is killing me!” Tenten says with a smile. “(Y/N), are you okay?” Hinata asked with concern, but I could see her grinning. I go to answer when Sakura yells out, “Pay up Ino!” What the-. “No fair! I was sure she’d figure it out by last week! You only won because you two days were closer!” Looking back and forth between the two I spoke up “You two bet on my marriage?” I face palmed as they laughed nervously. “Who else was in on this!” I asked loudly. Sakura spoke up counting on her fingers “Well you see, there was me, Ino, Tenten, Naruto, Kiba, Shino, Sai-” I held my hand up, “Yep, that’s enough information for me.” Hinata speaks up “Sorry (Y/N), we just knew you two would end up together!”

Ino grabs my shoulder smiling widely, “Don’t sweat it girl! We got the wedding covered!” The others chiming in with their sounds of agreement. I facepalmed once again. Oh I’m sure they did...

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – :

I nervously fidgeted with my fingers as I waited at the door. The white dress was long gone and was replaced with my usual favorite hoodie. I sigh as I go to tap my knuckles on the door once again when it suddenly opened revealing the disheveled man.

“Hi” I nervously breath out. He looked at me confusion, quickly glancing down at the watch on his wrist. “Shouldn’t you be saying your vowels right now?” He slowly asks me. Okay, I guess it was my turn to be the one intruding, but my words were failing me as we just sat there staring at each other. Breaking eye contact and looking down, I sighed. “I couldn’t do it.”

I got no response from him, I deserved it I guess. Maybe I should just give it up and go home. Laying face down in my bed for a year in shame seemed just about right at the moment. I hear foot steps and look up to see that he’s stepped aside to let me in. I hesitantly step inside the house, It looked almost identical to what it was a year and a half ago. Hearing the click of the door I turned to look at him. I was nervous.

“Why didn’t you marry him (Y/N). Isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted?” He asks me while leaning against the door. I pondered his question for a minute before responding. “I wanted what my parents had.” He shakes his head at me, crossing his arms and taking a rather defensive stance. “Yeah, I get it. You want marriage and my love isn’t enough for you. I got an ear full of your troublesome speech today.” He snaps at me. I cautiously took a step near him, testing the waters.

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” I made eye contact with him. “I grew up hearing my mother and my father address each other as husband and wife... watching how in love they were.” I shrugged my shoulders. “When they died I wanted to keep their love going, I felt like a strong marriage would be the way to honor them, to honor what they wanted for me, what they represented.” I let out a breath. “Back there I told you that you couldn’t separate Temari and I- How I shouldn’t have to pay the price for her actions.” I shook my head at myself. “....When I’m the one who couldn’t make the separation between my parents and us.” He looked surprised.

“Shikamaru, you were right. The marriage- the title, didn’t make them into the couple I idolized. It was the love for each other that made them so strong, that made them bring me into the world.” I step even closer to him as I continue. “I don’t want a marriage if I can’t have what we had, it’s more than enough for me.” He was quiet.

“Have” he replies soon. What? I was confused what does that even mean. “Shikamaru, I don’t underst-” He swiftly cuts me off. “Have, you said what we had. We still have it.” My eyes widened as he closed the gap and embraced me, wrapping his arms around me, and dropping his lips to mine. Pulling back he grabs my chin with one hand and wipes my eyes with the other. There I go crying again. “This whole day has been a drag. I thought you were going to be a married to another man by the end of it, how troublesome.” He groans at me, but I was too starstruck to care, I had my love back.

“Don’t ever leave me again.” He sighed burying his face into my neck. “Well I did walk out of a wedding for you so...” I could feel his low laugh in my neck. snuggling into him I smiled brightly. Pulling back and looking up at him I grinned. “But I can’t let you take the blame for all of this.” I was taken back by his sudden outburst. “(Y/N), I want to marry you.” I was shocked, we went through all of this for him to want to marry me now? “What do you mean?” The words slip quietly out of my mouth.

“I can’t let what happened between Temari and I control my relationship with you. Maybe It didn’t work out with her because I was always meant to be with you.” He says confidently. I was overwhelmed... He wanted to marry me. “Are you just saying this because you’re afraid of losing me? I already told you I’m here for good.” I hesitantly replied. Stroking my face he leans closers to me “Am I sure I want the girl I love to share my name? For sure. I want everyone to know you’re a Nara. I want our family to have the same name.” I could feel the blood rushing to my face and he chuckled at my expression. “H-hey! Don’t think you’re getting off the hook so easily!” I say as I wave my finger in his face. He was puzzled as he furrowed his brows at me, “huh?”

“If we’re gonna do this.. then you still owe me a real proposal, Idiot!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – :

Damn I might as well be a Shikamaru account to be honest. Gonna have to start rolling out the tobirama fics soon!

Masterlist

Until Next Time! xxo (▰∀◕)ﾉ

#naruto imagine #shikamaru nara x y/n #shikamaru #naruto imagines #anime #naruto #imagine #shikamaru imagine #shikamaru imagines #shikamaru nara #shikamaru nara imagine #shikamaru angst imagines #shikamaru nara angst

133 notes · View notes