Can I hum a lullaby to Acheron while petting her hair, please? In exchange for her comfy weight on my chest, thank you. 🙏🏻
Acheron's weight on you was your favourite. She was warm, squished you just right, and wrapped her arms tight enough to feel perfectly snug. She made the mundane feel magical, her presence being almost a peak into heaven from all the way down from Earth.
The only downside? Acheron always seemed to grow the slightest bit entitled whenever she held this position for too long...
"Keep going."
Acheron's voice rumbled its way out her throat in a sandy grain, grating hot against the skin of your throat. It scratched enough—along with the semi-desperate drag of her calloused palms beneath your shirt—to knock you out of your sleepy trance. Your eyes fluttered open with a wisp.
"Hm?" You questioned, peering down at the mop of purple tucked just under your chin. She fit like a puzzle piece, keeping her hands tucked firmly along the curve of your sides.
Any further attempt of communication from her was entirely absent, safe from the upwards brush of her lips when you squirmed at her sliding grasp. Acheron quickly steeled them back into a frown at the return of your voice. Dramatic.
"What'd you say, Acheron?"
The woman in question only shuffled closer to you at your confusion—if that was even possible. Still, you remained clueless as to why she bristled, not when your hand had yet to stop smoothing down her violets strands of hair. You had certainly learned your lesson last time when you stopped before she fell asleep.
"Humming, love. Keep humming."
You only blinked at her words. Acheron spent your silence trying to further fuse herself into you.
"Oh," you breathed, hand pausing its movements. "I was humming?"
She couldn't help her huff of a chuckle at that, squeezing you till you nearly popped when you jolted at the tickle of her breath. Her lips pressed against your collarbone, dancing up the bottom of your throat to just below your ear. There, she left a final stamp of affection: soft and sweet.
"Yes," she replied, nuzzling her face into you then. She breathed you in like a drug before going slack once more on her exhale. "And I never said you could stop."
Ah, right.
The ever spoiled Acheron when it came to nap-time on her own personal bed (you). You hummed until she was out cold, drooling a puddle into your shirt that you knew she'd laugh about later. At the very least, you'd make her run the laundry as payback by the time she woke up. For now? You'd might as well join her in dreamland.
Hello! I don't know if you still make these but... Can you do sfw and nsfw 'about Acheron from Honkai Star with a gn reader? Thank you...
Acheron headcannons
Character used: Acheron
Cw: NSFW below the cut; gender neutral!reader
Sfw
Honestly really chill. She doesn't talk much and mostly lets you do all the talking. But if you're not much of a talker yourself, she's more than happy to sit in silence with you!
She's an insanely good listener! Everything you say is dually noted. (Ironic. I know.) When I say that, I mean that she actually makes an effort to have it saved SOMEWHERE.
She shares her peaches with you. Sometimes— if she's feeling particularly intimate— she'll let you bite out of the same one she did. (This won't happen often. Seeing you share her fruit flusters her a little.) While you do it, just be prepared to have a pair of violet eyes very intently stare at you.
She's very subtle with affection. She'll stand a little closer to you, match her pace with yours and occasionally rest her hand on your lower back.
Very stone faced. You'd think you're talking to a brick wall most times out of 10. But if you know what to look for, you'd be able to tell how the edges of her eyes soften around you. Or even the way she instinctively positions herself to protect you.
Speaking of protection, you're always on her left. She makes sure of that. Because if anything were to go down, the last thing she needs is her sword hurting you while she's wielding it in your name.
You are the closest thing she has to a GPS. Girl CANNOT tell North from South. So asking her to meet you anywhere is a pain. Chances are, you'd be the one to pick her up from places and drop her off.
And if you're both HORRIBLE at directions... I don't know what to tell you.
As sad as it may sound, she'd occasionally refer to you by a different name. I'll leave it at that.
Definitely opens up to you about her past. If you choose to comfort her, she's happy. If you don't, but stay anyway, she's also happy.
(She's just happy that she hasn't freaked you out to the point of making you wanna run away. Not that she'd blame you, if you did.)
On that note, there is this lingering fear that you will leave her. If the distance between you stretches too long, a part of her will make the assumption that you'd already run for the hills.
This does eventually turn to a form of possession that shows itself in odd ways. Those could be seen in how protective she can get or her subtle clinginess. It can also manifest in other, more toxic ways too. (As you'll see in the NSFW list.)
But back to cute stuff! You remember how she does occasionally attend balls or partake in "girlish" things like doing make up. (Or at least fantasises about doing the latter.) She definitely tries it with you! If you're up for it, she isn't against dressing up so the 2 of you can turn on a radio and waltz around your shared room.
While she dances, her hands and eyes never leave you. They're firmly planted on you at all points. Once you start, you don't leave until the song ends— that's the rule.
Nsfw
Not the most knowledgeable, but she's disgustingly good with her hands. Call it instinct with the way she's hitting all your sweet spots without even trying.
Remember the stone face from earlier? It's there, but not as bad. You'll see the corners of her features twitch every time you touch her just right.
Shameless. Similarly to how she has no concept of direction, she has no concept of decorum. If you ask, she can and will make out with you in broad daylight.
Did not believe she'd experience any kind of pleasure in her life until you gave her head. Low-key became obsessed! But she'd basically never directly ask for it. If you give, she's happy. If not, she won't complain.
Keeps her sounds to herself. Sure, some might slip, but not without some resistance from her.
She's sometimes unintentionally rough. Pinning you down, tearing your clothes off stripping you, putting her hands and mouth on you— it's done so roughly— especially when she's had a particularly rough day. You're just being tossed around like a ragdoll the whole time.
Other times— when she's more conscious of her strength— her touch is firm, but tender. It's times like these when she "rewards" you for staying. Not reward per se, but definitely works to ensure that your love and devotion aren't going to waste.
Then, there are the occasions when she (wo)manhandles you. She's mildly possessive sometimes— having it be driven by her own fears. She'll mark you, pin you down and make sure that running isn't an option for you. Besides, it's not like you need anyone else but her.
When she's gone feral, her dance rules apply to intimacy. Her eyes will never stray and not once will she consider stopping.
It's actually for this reason that she offered you have a safe word.
a/n: Yay! More women! This post actually made me realise that I need to get on that grind more often.
But I'm sorry this took so long in the first place. Exams actually held me captive.😨😨
Summary: Acheron refuses to unsheathe her sword when she spars. But you're determined to spar with her anyways.
Pairing: Acheron X G/N!Reader
Genre: Fluffyish Drabble
Word Count: 537
Warning: N/A
Masterlist
A/N: Reuploading because I can't decide if I actually want to write for Acheron. I don't know if I like writing for her or not.
Usually, the sound of steel would ring out in the pavilion when soldiers, mercenaries, and rangers trained. But there was only the sound of a dull thwack as the two rangers battled it out.
You had to give credit where credit was due. Acheron knew how to hold her own. She was lightning fast and light on her feet. She could outmaneuver you in a heartbeat, as if she could see your moves way in advance. But you weren't to be underestimated.
The scabbard of your sword smacked against hers. She smirked before slashing closer to you. You pulled back, careful not to run into any of the ruined pillars of the pavilion. You smiled, and with a graceful arc of your sheathed sword, you attacked.
It was like a dance. The two of you would go back and forth and back and forth, switching between offense and defense like it was nothing. You found this kind of training to be exhilarating and with a worthy opponent such as Acheron, you enjoyed it even more.
As you fought with her, you couldn't help but wonder what her sword looked like. Everyone who was anyone in the galaxy knew that she never unsheathed her sword. That's why she never got to practice her fighting skills at the training pavilion. It was either scabbard off or no sparring. But you were eager to take on her challenge. It was a different kind of challenge that excited you. Still, why would a Galaxy Ranger not unsheathe her sword? What was she hiding exactly?
You thrust and she parried. You parried and she thrust. It almost seemed as if the two of you were perfectly matched, completely in sync. Until you got distracted by the glint of her blade barely peeking out at the hilt. She used your little lapse in concentration to smack you across the face with her scabbard. You flew to the ground and she placed the tip of the scabbard to your neck.
"You lost." Her voice was icy.
Instead of getting angry, you chuckle and knock her scabbard away. "Congratulations. It was a well fought loss, I must say."
She raised an eyebrow at your words, but didn't say more. Instead, she held out her hand to you. Taking it, she helped you to your feet.
"That was quite the workout." You muse, rolling your shoulders before tying your sword back to your waist. "I really enjoyed sparring with you, Acheron. You have a very unique way of fighting."
She nodded. "You're a decent swordsman yourself. I enjoyed going against you."
You smiled at her. "Thank you. I appreciate the compliment. I hope we're only against each other for sparring purposes. I don't think I could hold my own against you in a real fight."
She let out a small hum. "I think you could."
You were a bit surprised to hear that, but flattered nonetheless. "Thank you. I truly appreciate it."
Acheron stared at you for a moment longer before saying, "If you ever wish to try again at victory against me, I implore you to try."
You grin. "I absolutely will try again. Just let me practice more first."
doing that one tiktok trend on acheron where you wait till she's gotten comfortable and settled in bed before asking her for something is sooooo..... fkddjhdsdksfsd she's truly the perfect target guys hear me out
the first time you do it, she'll oblige, but only after taking a moment to enjoy how cozy she's gotten before getting up and fetching you a glass of water. genuinely she's so smitten for you so she has NO problem doing this... just let her enjoy herself for a moment beforehand
once she's back in bed and you've gotten your glass of water, you wait until she's under the covers to ask her for something again. it's crucial here that you DO NOT LAUGH, because this time she's pausing and turning her head just to stare at you fr TT just wondering why on earth you would wait until she's literally all snug and warm before asking. she's searching your face looking for something. like, any explanation at all. do not crack, soldier!!! regardless, she'll heave a quiet sigh before fetching a snack or two to keep at the bedside in case you wake up (i didn't say the request had to make sense TT). this time, however, she'll ask you veeeeery seriously if you're certain that's all you need. i'm talking eye contact and a slow nod to confirm before she settles right back into bed next to you.
the third time tho?? lmaoo genuinely she turn to face you and ask you if you're serious before saying your name so gravely JFDKSHFS "who do you take me for??" when you start laughing it's only then that she realizes her suspicions the second time around were valid and that you're just being silly™️ again. just know she will turn her back to you as soon as she clocks that. please wrap yourself around her with a few apologies.... pleaaase
Don’t forget to smile for the camera, because the first time Duchess of the North!Acheron brought you to the capital after getting married; your faces were plastered over the newspaper’s headlines for months after that.
It was granted when Acheron’s name alone brought unease within high society. Her lineage alone held enough influence to be of concern to the royal family, and being both a swordmaster and the commander of the Northern knights, Acheron marked a teetering sway of authority that veered to the North’s interest much too often for royal comfort.
As such, it came as no surprise to the aristocracy when her faction was assigned to the war effort. There was nothing more telling than the stony sendoff of the duchess and her troops to subdue invading nations along the country's border; it was a declaration of disfavour by His Majesty the King himself, long forgotten under the continued lavish lifestyle of high society as the war effort raged on.
She returned almost a decade later as a jaded war hero of sorts. Reputation bloodied with her ruthlessness in the battlefield, there was no shortage of fear held for the duchess among nobility, and marriage seemed like an impossibility for Acheron that no one, not even the royal family, dared to address.
Said to drop temperatures to a frigid low with her presence alone, Acheron did nothing to dispute the rumours surrounding her character. Even the boldest of suitors, clambering for some claim to power, faced cold rejection in their marriage proposals.
It was felt through high society as if Acheron's stature constantly loomed, sharp in its form even in the most relaxed of circumstances—a human turned weapon made to quash enemies without mercy. She stood firmer to the ground than she did before the war, unshakeable and never hampered by the expectations of nobility.
So, her marriage to you came as a surprise to many. There was no strategic linking of families to predict the union, no sneaky interactions at public gatherings to divulge in. Just a clean-cut marriage, wrapped in scandal and hypocritical accusations of lovelessness despite the common nature of strategic unions within the aristocracy.
The hearsay of her affections that wrangled their way to the capital held little weight over the gossip columns of the paper and the inner circles of high society that prattled and speculated over the North’s most popular couple, both attesting to the icy nature of Acheron’s heart.
It all came to a head at the coronation ceremony of the next crown princess. Much to Acheron’s displeasure, the selection of a successor made her presence obligatory. As much as she'd prefer to keep you and herself hunkered down in the northern territories, your presence was required as well.
Despite the duchess' indignation to appear, one would find the main characters of the ceremony a debatable subject.
The royal succession found itself a backdrop behind the arrival of the Northern Duchy's heads. With your hand hooked to Acheron's arm, you entered the hall in the finest of needlework, draped in fabrics that whispered a tasteful opulence and screamed Acheron's munificence.
Soon after, it was futile to claim estrangement in your marriage.
By your side, Acheron seemed no longer the fearsome duchess of the North, unapproachable by the wider attendees. Her posture turned at your attention, dipping low to murmur into your ear. Even gracing the gala with a smile, won by the flutter of your garments as she spun you across the dance hall.
So yes, when riding the carriage back up to the North, you found great amusement in teasing Acheron over the headlines. Unfamiliar entirely with the knave they once described her to be.
calling all scaredy-cats to the front: if you identify as such, apocheron needs and will get her hands on you... like right now. turn around.
as much as she wants to (and does) keep you safe, protected, and happy as one can be during a zombie apocalypse, something deep, primal, and exhilarating is tickled in her whenever you get frightened and turn to her. lets hope i havent made this point before but rlly idc cuz i can't stop thinking about this because acheron is crazy for the way you reach out for her arm to make sure she's still there with you like she reaches nirvana when you shuffle closer subconsciously. this is her purpose. truly. when the world has gone to shit, she still has you and she'll keep you alive for as long as she breathes.
when the two of you hunker down in a safe spot that's secure enough for no one to be obligated to keep night watch?? it's her favourite. because you always without fail end up sleeping just the teeniest tiniest bit closer to her when the night gets eerily quiet. she sleeps facing the entrance (just to be ready for anything crazy), so the times where you move to press yourself against her back, shes up in the same exact second and shes memorizing the way you feel snuggled up against her. when the two of you are close enough, UGHHH bc she's waking up right before you just to stay up, turn around, and cuddle you to her chest. you cannot move. you will not move. not unless she says so (well.. more like not until you ask) ((she'd do anything))
i can't stress this enough guys, acheron wants nothing more than to be your protector. whenever your stomach flips as she yanks you behind her to put herself between you and danger, she's feeling just as crazy inside i promise i promise i promise.
The Rain | Acheron x GN!Reader
zombie apocalypse au
acheron x gn!reader, zombie apocalypse au, mild nudity; 2.8k words; reader is in need of a major break, acheron soldiers on as per usual, author needs to make a masterlist for this series, author is also very lazy.
beta read by my lovely wife @chaer-cherry go check out her servalposting. part 1 in case you missed it, but this could be read as a standalone i guess
Your sweater wasn’t waterproof. At all. And the rain poured over like rocks over your head and the ridge of your shoulders. You hissed, sucking air through your teeth as every raindrop hit, each droplet spearing through your clothes before sinking in like an unwanted apology.
Worse, your socks clung to your feet. Each step produced a nasty squelch that bubbled through your toes as you dragged on behind Acheron, who was powering ahead with apparently no mind for the rain that soaked into the violet ribbons of her hair. She was luckier, with a trusty pair of rugged boots and a freshly stolen waterproof backpack from your last mall visit.
Your grip, enclosed around the straps of your very much not waterproof backpack, tightened at the memory. That mall was an utter disaster of a building, brimming with walkers whose skin warped and stretched in a horrific macabre. By the looks of it, they seemed to be turned just at the beginning of the epidemic years back and were, as a result, literally built different.
You took the liberty to grumble under your breath at the thought of that godforsaken place, as there was a fortunate lack of need to keep quiet under the rush of the rain coupled with the booming claps of thunder. What was usually you and Acheron creeping around the city together (which is still a concept you’ve been trying to wrap your head around) was now your heels slamming against concrete in a hurried pace to find any possible shelter.
Acheron passed another building with you in tow, and your eyes caught on the concrete enclosure with half a mind to slip away and tuck yourself inside there, free from the downpour.
“We could stop here,” you offered to the absolute soldier in front of you. The grit in your voice betrayed the budding annoyance that began to teeter into a dangerous flame. “Or we could turn back and hide out in one of the other perfectly safe and dry-looking spots—your choice, though, of course.”
Your words sounded as soft as sandpaper, and, much to your surprise, Acheron ground to a halt at your suggestion, digging her heels into the ground.
Much to your displeasure, however, you met her slamming nose-first into Acheron’s back thanks to her lack of warning. You groaned, stumbling backwards as you cradled your face like she had broken it. Casually, Acheron examined the building, yet you almost felt as if she was the building herself.
Acheron shook her head after a pass of disapproval over the building, certainly spotting weak points that were invisible to your eye. “It’s not secure enough; people could find us. Not walkers—people.”
She let you into her thought process with a frustrating nonchalance, and as she turned to face you, she had the gall to look surprised at your aching.
“You okay?” She questioned, brows raised.
If looks could kill, Acheron would’ve been walking with the horde by now. Whatever fire licked and flickered inside you fanned to something ferocious—you really did feel like killing her sometimes. Honest. But she was just too useful.
Because now, you could sleep a little sounder knowing she was keeping watch for beasts that stalked in the night. Now, you felt like your chances of surviving a few more months—years, if you were being generous—felt like a genuine possibility. So, instead of wringing her throat like your fingers twitched to, you only shoved past her, serving only to make your shoulder bloom with pain the same way your nose did.
This time, you led the way, stomping on ahead to God-knows-where. Acheron, albeit frazzled by your annoyance, followed behind you in silence. That fact not only confirmed that she, too, had no idea where you were headed but was simultaneously effective in its aid in ignoring her through the guilt of being snappy with a woman who was nothing but accommodating to you. You shook your head, ridding yourself of your stresses.
It was this damn rain, and the cold, and your stupid wet socks that were getting to you.
Either way, the two of you continued through the motions of finding somewhere, anywhere, that satisfied Acheron enough to rest at. Your legs ached with the journey, and as much as you did argue, you weren’t going to ignore Acheron’s frustratingly informed advice on where to stop.
At the next block of concrete jungle you approached stood a handsome building, mostly intact. Built with a beautiful red brick you would’ve appreciated before the colour was tainted by the brutality of the apocalypse, you craned your neck upwards to examine the way it fringed the sky, holding a hand over your eyes to shield yourself from the raindrops.
“What about this one?” You shot your finger out to point, swivelling your head to Acheron as she hummed thoughtfully at your discovery.
It was a lovely building. Well, good enough to be considered nice among the rest of the decrepit buildings around you, and the excitement of finding somewhere suitable to stay had you vibrating in place, ready to get the hell out of the rain.
When Acheron stepped ahead to survey the building, you trotted along behind her with a shimmer of satisfaction. The flicker dimmed when she stepped a little far to the left of your dream-building and flitted out entirely when she stopped at the small garage door next to the place, opening to, likely, a small storage unit.
A smile curved at Acheron’s lips, coloured impressed by your find.
"You've got a good eye," she whistled, kicking at the metal door lightly. It shuddered under the force, already cracked open at the bottom, and your spine quivered with the sound.
Acheron crouched down on her haunches and dropped her head low to peek inside for any sign of life. Or, well, death. You held your breath, glancing between her and the brick building just nearby, hoping at least this time you’d get your way.
Your soul shed a tear when she turned to you with subtle expectation. Your shoulders slumped, defeat pouring over you just as heavily as the rain as you stepped closer.
“This is absolutely not at all what I was suggesting,” you deadpanned, raising an accusatory finger between your contrasting ideas of tonight’s hideout. “How are we even supposed to get inside?”
Acheron dismissed your whining with a wave of her hand and an eye roll that told you she was not at all moved by it, it seemed. She stared carefully at the metal as she adjusted herself in place, wet gravel crunching underneath the press of her boots. She crouched differently this time, in a way that told you that brute strength was the answer when she hooked her hands underneath the gate. This time, you rolled your eyes.
“I’ll hold it up for you,” Acheron instructed, still adjusting herself as she tested her grip along the underside of the garage door. “If you can manage to hold it up for me too, that would be fantastic. If that’s too much, just find something to prop it open until I can slide in. Yeah?”
Her words were simple, a neutral mark of instruction, an Acheronism that the woman wielded like a sword of her own, cutting through the panic and scrambling of apocalypse into a clear plan of action. Something that likely kept her alive and thriving for so long. Still, it managed to grind your gears so grossly slow that you could only glare at her in silence before clicking your tongue.
“I can hold it up; I’ve survived this long too, you know.” You commented snidely, holding your nose high as Acheron regarded you with a toss of hair from her face. You didn’t know what the look in her eyes meant, but you sure as hell hoped it wasn’t amusement, as they were much too fond for your liking. You shucked off your backpack, and she did hers.
“Be my guest,” she hummed before facing forward once again, angling her head down to where she returned to grip the metal. “Ready?”
With a grunt and a tightening of her stomach, Acheron lifted with her legs. Metal screeched as her eyebrows scrunched into a miniscule furrow. You ignored the flex of her thighs in favour of slugging both of your backpacks inside and ducking in behind them. You paid no mind to where they landed, instead turning and gripping at the door where she held it up.
“I’m ready,” you breathed, eyes focused on the slip of dim light peeking into the storage unit. It reminded you of a particular closet. “Let go.”
“It’s heavy,” was all Acheron warned with a scoop of her voice. She let go of the sheet suddenly as it dropped into your hands. Adjusting your feet to dig into the ground, you pulled upwards with your legs to hold space for Acheron.
“Jesus,” you hissed. She made it look easy.
For your sake, Acheron shimmied under quickly, shoulders flinching lightly when the door slammed down to the ground behind her, you not bothering to hold it for any longer than necessary. She sat on the floor, for the first time looking small as she looked back up at you, who barely missed her with the door. There was a heave in her chest that told you that Acheron, who kills walkers and living psychos with a terrifying savvy, feared you dropping the door and slicing her in half.
Still, the look she wore was unfamiliar, and you shifted beneath her gaze, opting to tug down the zipper for your soaked-through sweater. Her eyes followed the movement before jumping back to your eyes.
“What?” You huffed.
Acheron only shook her head, breathing in a sigh as she stood up, swiping rocks from her jeans. “It’s nothing.”
You watched her for a moment longer, and Acheron instead took to examining the storage room. You dropped it there and instead let yourself be infected with the wonder of a new hideout.
Whoever owned this certainly left behind a gem.
Situated in the middle of the space was a green couch. It seemed to have seen a few years of use, as the green stained dull, and bordered on a bit dirty—but it was better than sleeping on the ground. A few boxes lay stacked on top of it, which you planned to leave for Acheron to move and for yourself to explore their contents when the morning rolled by.
The lamp stood in the backmost corner. It was a dainty thing, with a yellowish lampshade at its helm. It made for a weak plea for normality in the dingy storage unit, but you appreciated it nonetheless. Flicking it on proved pointless, and Acheron was quick to pull out her flashlight, lighting the space with its harsh, reliable beam of light.
The torch illuminated the room enough for you to get by, even lighting up the cobwebs, which you elected to ignore. Acheron moved to deal with the boxes that were in the way of your makeshift bed, and you shifted your attention back to the slick clothing that clung to your frame.
“You’ll… have to strip.”
Acheron regarded you briefly before grasping another box by its underside and moving it elsewhere. There was a hesitation that dipped into her inflection, one that was unlike her clean-cut nature. Cautious, even.
Your eyes slid to her like you hadn’t heard right.
“We will.” She corrected herself like it was any better. “Both of us. Else, we’ll freeze.”
The mental image washed over you and flushed you through the cold of your outerwear, enough to draw your voice petulantly from your throat. “I’m not doing that.”
“Then,” she paused. “You can freeze. Alone.”
With that, Acheron stripped herself of her jacket, hanging it on the back of a broken chair before she pulled her shirt clean off her head.
Her hair mussed, the muscle of her arms flexing under the effort of her wringing out the top before she stretched it out and hung it along the edge of a box. When she stood in her boots and jeans, reaching for her bra next, you scuffled about and turned your back to her.
“Whatever,” you grumbled and acquiesced. Acquiesced only because she was right. And for the fact that you were currently shivering your wet socks off.
You made to strip as well, listening to the rustle and fuss as Acheron kicked her boots off.
“Toss your clothes here. I’ll wring them dry.”
Your stomach flipped at the casual air that her voice carried, seemingly unbothered by the fact the two of you were… naked.
It was to be expected; Acheron being calm was well within her nature, but you were absolutely not. In dealing with the sudden spike of your heart rate, you opted to sling your clothes behind you, hoping for them to land anywhere near Acheron and save you from having to turn and face her.
And you succeeded, judging by the resounding, wet smack of cloth against skin behind you.
“…”
Every single muscle in your body tightened with embarrassment. Even your toes curled into the concrete floors, only releasing with an eventual sigh through your nose and a shimmy of your shoulders.
You breathed back in for a lungful of fresh air, but your nose caught the atmosphere of the room, rich with a tension you didn’t wish to address. One that couldn’t be shaken off with a quick jostle of your body.
“I call the couch,” you muttered only, tiptoeing over to the seat and laying yourself along it.
You shuffled inwards, to the cushion. Tucking yourself into the wedge of it, you faced yourself to the backrest in lieu of baring every intimate part of you to Acheron.
Acheron took pause at this, turning to peer at you sneakily through the corner of her eye before staring more openly upon realizing your back was to her.
Her gaze drew from the slope of your spine, along the curve of your ass, and down your legs before moving back up and lingering there.
“Where am I meant to sleep?” She questions, turning back to hang up your clothes. She lined them along the boxes with a significant amount of care, one she hadn’t afforded to her own wet fabrics.
“On the floor,” was your reply, airy and uncaring.
Acheron didn’t bother with a response, not finding that one the slightest bit amusing after having slept on the floor for the past week. Her back was stiff, and she was in desperate need of a massage.
“Absolutely not,” she stated back firmly, unzipping your soaking-wet bag and emptying its contents to let dry before hanging the pack on the chair next to her jacket.
You listened as she shuffled about, but it faded into a fuzz and a distant hum of background noise as the wear of your journey weighed down on your eyelids. You only hummed in reply.
Sleep seemed to call for you like a siren, your muscles finally getting a moment of respite as you succumbed to its chaunt. Its song was sung low and enchanting before your eyes snapped open as the couch dipped behind you.
“You—”
“Shhhh,” Acheron hushed, cozying up to you from behind. Your hand gripped defiantly at the arm that slung over your waist, holding onto you. “There’s not much space on the couch—and I’m not sleeping on the floor. Not a chance.”
She made it sound logical, and it was, to an extent. But you had drawn several lines in the sand the first time you’d seen the ripple of muscle that stretched along her core the one time you had to patch her up.
You felt that same muscle, along with the rest of the line of firmness that was Acheron, curled around you.
She was all-encompassing with an embrace similar to that of a cocoon and endlessly warm. It was also incredibly awkward to do something like this with someone you had met only a month ago, but you hadn’t been held like this in so long.
Your mind was tricking you—it had to be—that this was… nice.
Acheron’s breath puffed at your nape, the searing heat causing goosebumps to rise along your body, and she shifted closer when a shiver rattled through you.
“Still cold?” She hummed, clearly as exhausted as you.
Her weariness took you aback.
Acheron always seemed like a statue. Sometimes, a soldier; always ready to shoulder the weight of the world. But, when she was close like this, you could feel her every movement, laden with fatigue.
Her leg pressed between yours for nothing else than what you assumed to be comfortability. It still had your breath catching in a hitch that, upon reflection, was definitely a fluster. You stamped down the thought, burying it beneath the many layers of embarrassment that you weren’t willing to peel back.
Instead, you let the heat of Acheron’s body sink into you.
The rain continued to pour fiercely outdoors, and you weren’t sure if you were tired or if it was Acheron who was wiggling every so often behind you—against you—but it wasn’t long before sleep had won you over and tugged you into an embrace of its own.
roommate!acheron has the hugest, most coziest bed known to man.
just by looks alone, you can tell just how comfortable it is with all the pillows and blankets spread across it. all of which recommended to her by black swan after acheron first bought the bed and confessed that she didn't really care for what it looked like.
sometimes, she has a really pretty set of sheets stretched across it. you're certain it has a thread count higher than anything you've ever seen before and it makes launching yourself into her bed all the more enticing. however it does look a mess when that set is put in the wash. acheron replaces it with the most random assortment of bedsheets on earth for the week and it's actually jarring. like, it still looks so soft and comfy, but where was the creative direction in getting these sheets?? hello? (there was none. every single pillowcase and sheet are from separate sets she bought for cheap)
regardless of this fact, the first time you had the chance to chill in acheron's, bed you genuinely rejoiced. she was busy doing her makeup, getting ready to go out with some friends who invited her to dinner and, seriously, this shit was better than it looked. you were halfway asleep as you watched her from her bed, and she didn't say much, but she genuinely thought you were passed out at a certain point because you weren't carrying the conversation like you usually do (she was right)
but one day, it all came to a head when it was too difficult to not give into the temptation that was her bed. it was all too perfect: acheron was out running errands, having said she'd be out for a while, and you now had the perfect window for a quick nap.
were you potentially crossing a few lines? maybe... possibly... but you and acheron had gotten close enough that you figured it'd be fine. plus, the two of you had literally seen both of each other naked at some point (purely by accident lmfaoo), so what's a small nap in her bed going to do? whatever.
there's not much more thinking done once you've crawled into her sheets, knocking out entirely the second your head hit the pillow. warm, plush, and smelling like her, you were out cold, lulled into sleep before you could even fight back. you didn't even have the chance to set an alarm as planned, out like a light surrounded by the clean, comforting scent of acheron.
and don't you dare feel embarrassed when acheron returns home, finding you curled up into yourself and snuggled beneath her sheets. you won't even have the chance.
acheron's heart literally dropped to the floor and shattered into a million pieces at the sight, and she could barely find it in herself to put the pieces back together. she really had to pinch herself briefly, wondering if this was a dream before she was kicking off her pants, tugging on an inside shirt, and joining you in bed.
you'd stir at the movement, and she'd be quick to hush you with a coo, mumbling out quiet "don't bother" as you bumbled out a sleepy cross between an excuse and an apology. your mouth was effectively sealed shut when acheron tangled your legs together, pulling you against her as the two of you joined each other in drifting off to dreamland.
