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sky-is-the-limit · 1 month

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Meddle About (Part 1)

P: Captain Price x F!Reader

Summary: You meet a handsome stranger at a pub and begin a beautiful friendship. Though you start developing feelings for the older man, he doesn't seem to reciprocate. That is, until you flirt with someone else to test the waters.

NSFW part 2 here.

WC: 2.3k words

CW: Nothing other than some angst (light), age difference and jealousy.

Notes: The age of the Reader is mentioned only because I feel uncomfortable writing about an age difference where X person is under the age of 23-25.

@glitterypirateduck

You stumbled into the pub, your heart heavy and your mind clouded with the weight of your breakup. The air was thick with the aroma of alcohol and the sound of muted conversations. You sought solace in the dimly lit corner, choosing a table far from prying eyes, hoping to drown your sorrows alone.

As you sat there, lost in your own misery, your gaze wandered aimlessly to the booth next to yours until it landed on him, the older man sitting alone, his presence almost ghostly in the shadows. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, drinking a glass of whiskey with a distant look in his eyes.

At first, you paid him no mind, too consumed by your own despair to acknowledge anyone else's existence. But then, just as the ache in your chest threatened to overwhelm you completely, a notification on your phone pushed you over the edge. It was a message from your ex, a cruel reminder to pick up your things from his apartment.

With a choked sob, you buried your face in your hands, tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought. And then, as if sensing your despair, the older man's voice cut through the haze of your misery.

"Are you alright, love?" He asked, his words gentle and filled with genuine concern.

Startled, you lifted your head to look at him, your vision blurred by tears. His face came into focus, and you found yourself momentarily captivated by the sight of blue eyes, the ruggedness of his features softened by a hint of kindness. He extended a napkin towards you, a silent offering to wipe away your tears.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of whether to trust this stranger even with such an innocent gesture. But something in his demeanor, the warmth in his gaze, made you lower your defenses.

And so, with a shaky breath, you accepted, allowing the soft material to soak up whatever was left of your relationship.

As the night dragged on, the heaviness in your heart began to ease, replaced by a sense of relief as you found comfort in conversation with the stranger. He didn't speak much, but his attentive listening spoke volumes.

You found yourself pouring out your heart to him, recounting the details of your breakup, the betrayal, the lies, the countless nights spent crying yourself to sleep, wondering what you had done to deserve such treatment.

Were you ruining his night out? Was he growing tired of your rambling? Was he secretly wishing for an escape from your company?

Your overthinking vanished every time you looked into his eyes, finding nothing but genuine interest and compassion staring back at you.

The hours slipped away and the pub grew quieter, you realized that this stranger had become more than just a sympathetic ear. And though you couldn't quite put it into words, you knew that his presence had brought you a sense of peace that you hadn't felt in a long time.

As the night progressed, you learned that he was a military man, a Captain stationed at a base just twenty minutes away. His hesitance to get into the specifics of his job only added to the air of mystery surrounding him but you respected his boundaries, content to learn other parts of his personality. It wasn't like you'd understand much of the military life anyway.

In between sips of beer, you discovered common ground in unexpected places. He spoke passionately about his love for football, declaring his support to Liverpool with pride and that sparked playful banter between the two of you, given your loyalty to Manchester United. And then there was his love for 70s rock music, a good old Sunday roast and his German Shepherd named Bucky.

Everything he uttered seemed to captivate you. But it wasn't just his words that kept you staring in awe. It was the way he carried himself, the undeniable aura of strength and confidence that followed him.

His strong, masculine features were impossible to ignore. The full beard that hugged his face and trailed down to his neck, the small charming beauty mark on his nose, his ocean blue shaded eyes.. There was no force im the world that could tear your gaze away from him.

Despite being seated, he seemed to tower over most in the room, his tall frame accentuated by his broad shoulders and defined physique with thighs barely fitting under the table.

Each time your eyes met, you felt a rush of excitement, a flutter in your chest that you couldn't quite explain.

He definitely noticed, there was no doubt about it. You caught him watching you, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips but he never made a point of it. It was as if he welcomed your attention, basking in the way you were taking him in yet never crossing the line between polite conversation and flirting.

Around two after midnight, the pub began to empty out, leaving only you and the interesting stranger as the sole costumers.

Stepping outside, the chill of the rain hit you both, shimmering under the moonlight as it landed on the darkened street below and he wasted no time in offering you his coat.

You protested but he insisted, draping it over your head as you both dashed towards your car. The rain poured down relentlessly, soaking him through and yet he seemed unaffected, almost as if he enjoyed the feeling of the water against his skin or perhaps in a way to make the night last a little bit longer.

As you turned the ignition, a sudden realization struck you. In the midst of the conversation, you had forgotten the most basic of exchanges. Names.

"Hey!" You called out over the drumming rain, "I never asked for your name."

"John Price." Came his simple reply, accompanied by a a small smile.

You reciprocated with your own name, something so simple suddenly feeling intimate, important. After saying your goodnights, you closed the door and began to drive away, the rain beginning to taper off.

But then, a nagging thought tugged at your brain. His coat still laid draped over your shoulders. Without giving it a second thought, you turned the car around and rolled down the window, calling out into the night.

"Hey, John! I still have your coat!"

He turned, his silhouette illuminated by the fading streetlights, and yelled back, "Bring it back here tomorrow, same time."

With a smile tugging at your lips, you nodded in agreement. That night, as you drifted off to sleep, the thoughts of your recent breakup seemed distant and insignificant. Instead, your mind was filled with the memory of the handsome Captain and the promise of tomorrow.

/////

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, your meetings with John at the pub became a tradition. Every Wednesday and Saturday, like clockwork, you would find yourselves drawn back to that familiar corner booth, where the outside world faded away and it was just the two of you, lost in conversation.

Your advances were subtle yet unmistakable, a brush of your hand against his, a playful flirtation laced with innuendo. And though John never shut you down, his demeanor remained restrained, as if he was holding himself back from crossing an invisible boundary.

He never pushed for more, never crossed the line into something deeper, leaving you to wonder if the attraction was one sided.

It was both frustrating and endearing at first, what had started as a playful game of cat and mouse had morphed into something deeper, more profound and the anticipation of seeing him, of sharing those precious hours together, became the highlight of your week.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. It was borderline obsessive how you tended to every detail, choosing the perfect outfit and spending hours grooming yourself to ensure you looked your best for him.

While his eyes traced the curves of your body with hunger, his hands always remained glued at his sides. Always a good conversation, a walk to your car and a goodnight to leave you awake at night, going through every scenario possible.

It was maddening, the way he welcomed your touches and flirtatious banter without ever making a move of his own.

Perhaps, if he was to turn you down outright, to reject your advances and put an end to the torture, it would be easier to accept. You could move on, content in the knowledge that you had tried and failed. But John never did that.

And so, that particular night, you swore, it would be different.

////

Another Saturday night unfolded and you found yourself once again nestled in the comfort of your favorite booth at the pub, opposite of John.

Dressed in figure hugging black dress that accentuated every curve, you couldn't help but feel confident and ready for what you were about to do. The neckline dipped low, offering a glimpse of your cleavage while the bold red lipstick painted your intentions clear for all to see.

Taking a moment to gather your courage, you lifted your glass to your lips, the sweet aroma of your fruity cocktail easing your nerves. After taking a sip, with a playful smile, you turned to John, nudging the glass towards him.

"Wanna try my drink?" You asked, your voice laced with a hint of playfulness.

You knew all too well that John was a man of simple tastes, his preference for whiskey never changing. Your intentions weren't supposed to change that, anyway.

John's gaze lingered on the glass for a few seconds and returned to yours, a small smile playing at his lips.

''I don't think I'm gonna enjoy drinking that one, love.'' He replied with a chuckle as he took another sip of his usual choice.

That was your moment.

With a coy smile, you took another sip from your cocktail, savoring the fruity sweetness that danced on your tongue and then, with a boldness you hadn't known you possessed, you placed your hand on John's thigh, the touch of your fingertips freezing him into place.

"You don't have to drink it to enjoy the taste." You replied, your words dripping with innuendo whilst you took in his unusually tensed reaction.

Without waiting for John's response, you leaned in, the anticipation coursing through your veins like wildfire.

Your heart pounded loudly against your chest as you pressed your lips against his, the taste of whiskey and strawberries mingling together the more you took his bottom lip between your own. There was a hesitance in the way your mouth moved, your tongue grazing his own as you awaited for him to deepen it.

Feeling the warmth of John's palms resting on your shoulders, you couldn't help but anticipate his next move, to reciprocate the kiss and finally make you his.

But to your surprise, instead of drawing you closer, John gently pushed you back, disconnecting your lips with a tender touch that almost felt like betrayal. His eyes remained closed, his expression unreadable as if he was still lingering on the taste of your kiss, contemplating what he was about to do next.

Feeling the weight of John's eyes piercing through you, you couldn't bring yourself to meet them, the sting of embarrassment and disappointment burning hot against your cheeks.

You felt exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never felt before. As his hands left your shoulders and came to rest on the table, you could sense the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally, his voice broke the silence, "Y/N, I can't." He said, his tone filled with a mixture of pity and regret.

"Even if I want-" He started to say, but then abruptly stopped, as if his own thoughts had betrayed him.

You wanted to scream, to cry out in frustration and anger, but all you could do was sit there, confused and curious to the thought of him finishing that sentence.

Summoning every ounce of courage you had, you took in a deep breath and with trembling hands, you finally raised your face to look at him.

All you managed, was a one word question coming out as a barely audible whisper, ''Why?''

His hesitation, his struggle to articulate his thoughts only grated against your nerves but you sat there patient, waiting for him to state a good enough reason that would match with his last sentence.

"You're so young and I-" John began but his words only added to your ticking bomb. His excuse felt like a slap in the face, and before he could finish, you cut him off, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"Young? Is that it?!" You exclaimed, the anger in your voice palpable. "I'm 25 for fuck's sake!"

In that moment, what he said, the implication of his excuse became painfully clear. It wasn't about age. It was about fear, about his own insecurities. But you refused to be dismissed so easily.

"Younger, then." He persisted, correcting himself, his tone tinged with frustration. "You should be out there flirting with guys your own age, not messed up middle-aged men that you meet at a shady pub."

How dare he, you thought, how dare he belittle your choices, your feelings like that?

Your eyes widened in disbelief at what he was saying, the anger bubbling up inside you threatening to boil over. How could he be so blind, so oblivious to the depth of your feelings?

"Guys my age, huh?!" You retorted sarcastically, raising the volume of your voice just enough to make him look back into your eyes.

But instead of backing down, John simply nodded to your question. And then, as if to salt to your wound, his eyes trailed around the pub, landing on two young guys ordering a drink at the bar.

"Someone like him, not me.'' His tone devoid of self-pity or insecurity.

It was as if he was protecting you, shielding you from the potential pain that could come from being with someone like him.

His words only added more fuel to your fire that was threatening to consume you whole and so you stood up from your seat, straightening your dress with a determined flick of your wrist. Every fiber of your being screamed with frustration, but you refused to let it win.

"You know what, maybe you are right." You said to John, your voice tinged with bitterness.

Trailing your gaze towards the blonde guy at the bar, who seemed more interested in his reflection on his front camera than anything else, you saw an opportunity.

With a calculated move, you turned back to John, his eyes awaiting your next move. With a forced smile, you continued, "Maybe I should take my chances with a younger guy."

Without another word, you turned on your heel, grabbing your purse and made your way towards the bar. As you approached the blonde guy, you could feel John's eyes boring into your back but you tried your hardest not to take a peak.

Instead you sat down next to the new stranger, who finally put his phone down and turned his attention towards you, giving you a warm smile before introducing himself with a simple, ''Hey.''

Glancing back at John for a brief moment, you noticed an unfamiliar look in his eyes. A mixture of possessiveness and jealousy that sent shivers down your spine.

With his jaw clenched and posture tense, John seemed poised to stand up. But you refused to let his sudden change dictate your actions and so maintaining the same fake smile as before, you turned back to the blonde guy.

"Hey, there." You replied, your tone light and casual as you greeted him back.

It was time for you to finally be the cat and it was only a matter of seconds before the mouse came running back to your claws.

#self insert with that Manchester United line sorry guys 🙏#captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x female reader #captain price smut #captain price angst #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #task force 141 #141 x reader #john price #captain john price #ocaptainchallenge

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redskull199987 · 6 months

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What about a Mike x fem!reader where reader helps mike through one of his nightmares?

Lifeless Stars

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request

Word Count:1.6k

Warnings:very angsty again, but also lots of fluff and comfort too, I also may have added Abby a bit into this because I love her and I wish I had a sister like her:,), also Movie spoilers

Summary:After the events at the Pizza-Plex, You and Mike both have problems coping with what happened. But at least you have each other…and a sweet little Girl, whose goal it was to make you smile again...

Masterlist

You felt tired. Terribly tired actually. The Sun had long disappeared behind the Horizon. The House was quiet and all lights were shut off, as the entirety of your little family had withdrawn behind the warmth and comfort of your blankets.

And theoretically, you should have been asleep. But much to your dismay, you weren’t. You had been awake for hours, downright tired to the verge of passing out, but sleep just wasn’t able to find you.

Maybe it was because of what had happened a few days ago at the Pizza-Plex. The events were still burned into your skull, the images still vivid and every time you closed your eyes, it didn’t take long before that damn Golden Bonnie crept his way up into your dreams. You supposed, that was the reason you were unable to sleep tonight.

With a sigh, you quietly tried to sit up while not waking up Mike, who had his head laying on top of your shoulder and his arm slung around your waist. As cautious as possible, you pushed him off of you and stood up. You looked at Mike once more and gently pulled the blanket back up to his face again, before making your way into the kitchen.

‘Maybe a cup of tea could help’, you thought. And you seriously hoped it would. Your last resort would be Mike’s sleeping pills, but you really didn’t want to use them, knowing of how much trouble they always brought Mike.

So, without turning on the lights, the house only illuminated by the shine of the Moon, you stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, so that you could put on your tea. Your eyes wandered all over the room, gazing at the various pots and plates that were standing in random places. Abby’s drawing of you guys and the kids on the fridge or the Picture of Mike and his brother, when he was still alive. You sincerely hoped that he had found peace too. That he was in a better Place now, looking down on Abby and Mike with a smile on his face while patiently waiting for the day of their reunion.

The sound of the tea pot pulled you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you poured the steaming water into your cup and set it down on the kitchen table to let it cool down a bit, so that you would not burn your tongue when drinking it.

With another heavy sigh, you walked over to the couch and flopped down on it. Your body felt heavy. Too heavy. With a small hiss, you lifted your shirt, taking a look at your still healing injury. Mike might have had it worse than you, but Afton had still managed to nab at you with his damn knife. You got way more lucky than Vanessa though, since she was still in the Hospital. You really hoped that she would wake up soon, so that you could thank her properly. If it hadn't been for her, you would probably all be dead.

A noise from your bedroom suddenly caught your attention. With furrowed brows, you swiftly jogged back through the dark hallways. You could swear, it almost gave you a heart attack, when you abruptly ran into Mike, causing the two of you to stumble to the ground.

“Mike?”, You groaned quietly, blinking in the dark trying to spot him,”Mike, are you okay?”

You didn't receive an answer, but instead, you felt a pair of hands, searching for your own in the darkness.

“Mike, I’m here.”, you mumbled, reaching out for your boyfriend. Your hands hastily found his shoulders and pulled him closer to you. Only now, you noticed that he was trembling. His breathing was fast and heavy and he was slightly sweaty.

“Mike..”, you whispered, lacing your fingers with his,”Come with me.”

You quickly pulled him to his feet and guided him to the bathroom. Once you were inside, you switched on the lights and closed the door. You saw how Mike slightly flinched away, as soon as the dim light illuminated the room. You gazed at him with concern on your face, before motioning to the bathroom counter. He quickly understood and sat down on it.

With your eyes still on Mike, his hands were still trembling, you grabbed a cloth and held it under the water, before coming back to him.

With a reassuring smile on your face, you slowly stepped in between his legs. Mike almost automatically grabbed your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

��Hey.”, you tenderly grasped his cheek, making him look at you. Without another word you raised the cloth to his face, slowly wiping the sweat off of his forehead. Mike only closed his eyes, seemingly just trying to enjoy your sweet touch on his face.

“What happened?”, You finally asked, when he had calmed down again. His hands were no longer trembling anymore and his breathing had returned to normal.

“I had a nightmare.”, Mike explained, his gaze now focusing on the ground,”I dreamed that..that, I wasn’t able to save Abby. That they took her, just like Garret. And I couldn't do anything. I was just staring like a useless piece of shit-”

“Mike.”, you said firmly, turning his face back to you,”Don’t say that. It was just a dream. Abby is safe. She’s with us. Nothing can happen to her.”

Mike didn’t say anything in return, so you tried something else instead of just talking to him. You swiftly raised your other hand, but not to his face, but to his chest. Your palm rested right above his heart, that you could feel beating rapidly. Mike only looked at you in confusion.

“Mike..”, You mumbled, searching for the right words,”What I can feel under the palm of my hand, is the Heart of a Big Brother, that’s only beating for his sister. A heart that’s beating because it’s owner decided to stay alive for his sister. To be there for her and give her the life she deserves. And not only for her, but also for me. I know what you did to save us and I will be forever grateful for that. So are Abby and Vanessa. You saved us. We’re alive because of you, Mike.”

You could feel tears well up in your eyes, because as you said them, you realized how true they were. You owed Mike your life and you would forever be grateful to have him in your life.

“I love you.”, was all that Mike was able to mutter in response, before he pulled you into him by your waist, connecting your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. You felt him holding onto you tightly and as you parted, he gently leaned his forehead against yours.

“Thank you, Y/N.”, Mike mumbled, kissing you once more on your temple.

Your sweet moment was interrupted, as you saw the lights in the hallway suddenly go on. Mike and you only looked at each other for a second, before he jumped off of the bathroom counter. He pulled you behind his body, as the two of you quietly walked over to the door. With one final step, you walked into the hallway and all your tension quickly dissolved into relief, as you saw who the culprit was.

Abby was sitting at the Kitchen table, sipping on the tea you had made earlier.

“Hey, you little thief.”, You smiled and sat down next to her, “That was mine.”

Abby looked at you apologetically, but not really:”Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”, you smiled and ruffled her hair affectionately.

“Why are you up, Abbs?”, Mike asked, also sitting down next to the two of you.

“Couldn’t sleep.”, the girl answered shyly,”So, I drew a picture for you guys.”

Wordlessly, she slid a piece of paper over to you and Mike. The two of you looked at each other for a second, before glancing at the drawing. Your heart bloomed with joy, as you realized what it was.

In the drawing, you could see Mike, Abby, Vanessa and you playing together. It looked like Hide and Seek and while Mike was the Seeker, Abby, Vanessa and You all hid from him with a smile on your faces.

“That’s really beautiful, Abby.”, you mumbled, trying not to tear up.

“Let's put it on the fridge, hm?”, Mike suggested and promptly did what he just proposed.

Abby only smiled at you and instantaneously jumped up, giving you and Mike a big beary hug. You could only embrace the girl in your arms. You had grown so much closer over the years and you were extremely grateful for that. You really did love her like a sister,

“Let’s all go to bed now, shall we?”, Mike proposed, a smile now also on his face.

Abby and You could only nod, as sleep was now finally catching up to you. You could barely remember what happened afterwards…

Bonus:

Your eyes only opened reluctantly, but the sun had been poking your face for a while, so you decided to give it a shot. But as you tried to sit up, you realized that it was of no use. This morning, you did not only feel the weight of one body on you, but two.

You blinked around a few times, before realized what was going on. Abby had asked to stay with Mike and you for the Night, so that she could fall asleep faster and thus here you were. With Mike clinging onto your left side and Abby onto your right.

But all you could do was smile at your little family and close your eyes again, pulling the two of them closer. You really were grateful for everything. And you always would be.

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gumycandyyy · 7 months

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୨♡ "ＡｔＹｏｕｒＢｅｃｋＡｎｄＣａｌｌ" ♡୧

Trying out a oneshot! Or something like that idk.

Winter King x reader

Romantic

GN reader

RQ: nah fam, I accept requests though!

Word count: 1390

No use of y/n

Summary: You're adventuring through this interesting little world, and find yourself in a snowstorm. Next thing you know, you're in some kind of ice palace. What happened?

Walking through the snow, you look up into the sky. Cloudy. Best be quick.

A chilly breeze sneaks through the fabric of your shirt and deep into your bones. It would've been better if you'd brought a jacket. Though you didn't think your wish prepared you for that.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"I wish..."

"You better think about this hard, dude. You only get one."

"Okay, okay. I wish... Hm..."

"Want a pickle?"

You agreed to Prismo's offer, gladly taking the snack. You crunched while you thought. Man, these were good pickles.

"Okay man, I'll admit I got nowhere to be, but you were kinda interrupting me. I was watching TV."

You tell Prismo that he can watch while you think, as you hadn't thought you would make it this far. He shrugged, and pressed a button on his remote.

You saw him flipping through channels rapidly, looking for one in particular.

"Hey, Prismo."

"Hm?"

"Are those just.. Shows? Or-"

"Oh, they're universes. Y'know, the multiverse theory right? I just get to watch everything. Perks of being an omnipresent god-type thing."

You think about your wish for another few moments. You snapped your fingers, and Prismo paused the TV.

"You know what you want?"

You nodded, rubbing your hands together.

"I wish that I-" "Be descriptive. Just in case, Y'know?"

You sighed with an exasperated smile. Taking a deep breath, you asked your question.

"I wish that I had the ability to travel freely and safely through the multiverse at will."

Prismo coughed loudly, as if choking on something. He took a deep breath, sighing.

"Okay, okay. So- I actually don't know if I'm allowed to do that."

"sigh."

"Did- did you just say 'sigh'?"

Prismo shook his question off, and sighed himself. He explained to you what he was and wasn't allowed to do, and how you were in a gray area of the rules. He finally shrugged.

"What could go wrong?"

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly you weren't in the time-cube-thingy anymore. You were in a grassy field. You felt something in the back of your pocket, and bringing it out, you saw a small pocket watch.

There was a note folded up and taped to the back of it. The handwriting was almost too small to see.

Yo, this thing is weird, right? Just wind the clock when you wanna change universes.

Don't break it.

I'm serious, this thing is expensive.

So armed with nothing but your wit and a pocketwatch, you traversed throughout the multiverse.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You wished that you would've added 'immortality' to Prismo's wish.

The wind was picking up, whipping your hair around. You looked into the sky, seeing the clouds grow dark, and snow beginning to sprinkle. It was almost astounding how quickly the weather could change.

A few stray snowflakes blew straight into your mouth as you breathed in, causing you to cough. The wind whipped through you, and the snow fell into your eyes. The sky was as dark as ever, and the snow clumping to your feet made it hard to walk.

You wish you thought of bringing a jacket.

You really wish you thought of bringing a jacket.

It didn't even occur to you to leave this universe, you were too cold to think. Stumbling around in this white wasteland, you wondered if there were any towns nearby.

Just as you thought of that, you saw a light in the distance. Struggling to climb up an embarrassingly small hill, you saw a glowing little town next to a palace probably around a quarter mile away. It looked to be made of ice, but that might just be you blurred vision.

You staggered through the snow, just trying to make it to the town.

You stop in place when you realize you can't feel a single thing in your body. Breathing in deep through your nose and cringing at the chilled air, you decided to use up the last of your energy to get to that little town as quickly as possible.

Bringing your arms up and crossing them, you tried to keep as much warmth to your chest as possible. After getting within about 100 paces to the town, you were ready to collapse. You heard light and seasonal music playing from the town, and hummed along deliriously.

People were ice skating on a small lake near you, and you tried to call for help.

But you couldn't get out more than a whisper.

Collapsing into the snow, your vision blurred and darkened. Just as you were about to lose consciousness, you heard a voice.

"Ice scouts! Come help this-"

Then you were out.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The next thing you knew, you were inside some glittering blue room. Was this place made of ice? Impossible, you were warm. Looking down, you saw that you were covered in blankets. Fluffy, Warm, blankets... You almost wanted to fall back asleep...

You sat up quickly, realizing you didn't know where you were. You then heard a soft voice from your bedside.

"Oh, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

You looked to your side, seeing a man sitting in a chair, reading some book. You couldn't see its title. The man had light blue skin, white hair, a long nose, and sparkling eyes.

You noticed he was dressed quite elegantly, and a crown sat atop his head.

"Who are you?"

He blinked for a moment, and laughed softly while slapping his forehead. He stood up, brushing himself off.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is the Winter King. You'd passed out in the snow when my ice scouts and I were not but twenty feet away from you!"

You introduced yourself,and tried to remember what exactly happened, but couldn't. You just had to take the Winter King's word for it.

Wait..

Winter King.

You quickly apologized for being so nonchalant with royalty, but Winter King stopped you.

"Oh, no need for such formalities. You are a guest. It's my duty to serve you. If it would make you feel better, you may just call me Winter."

He sat down again, looking at you. Not in a creepy way, just... curious.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. The air was cold, but not nearly as dreadful as the blizzard outside. You then realized something strange. You asked Winter why it hadn't been pouring snow in the town. He laughs softly, smiling gently at your question.

Man, he was pretty.

"Oh, my dear, I have control over this domain. From every ice sculpture to every snowflake. While sometimes I cannot control the weather, I can however, keep it from affecting my town."

From your basic understanding of magic logic, this seemed plausible enough. You went to stand up, but suddenly felt very fatigued, your legs wavering. Winter stood up from his seat, ready to catch you if need be.

You cleared your throat, sitting down. Only then did you realize how much your throat hurt. You coughed for a moment, trying to get this scratchy feeling out. Winter noticed what you were doing, then gently clapped his hands. A person- looking to be made out of ice- skated into the room, holding a tray with a glass of water on it.

You thanked the little ice servant, and thanked Winter.

Winter seemed a little perplexed that you thanked the servant, but carried on, as it wasn't anything to fuss about.

"I see you're sick. Sometimes I can forget that people aren't immune to the effects of my wondrous realm."

He seemed to be really proud of his little winter wonderland. You looked out a massive window to see the town below.

The town.

You were in the castle.

Huh.

"However, I am more than willing to aid you throughout your journey to regain your health!"

This man cannot be real. He's so incredibly kind! You've never really met any royalty, but you guessed that Winter was pretty much the nicest king in history.

You sneezed into your elbow, then cleared your throat once again.

"Rest for now, my dear. Though, if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask. I am at your beck and call."

Winter bowed, then gracefully slid out of the room. You forgot the floor was made of ice. Snuggling into the plush pillows and multiple blankets, you closed your eyes,

and drifted off.

︵‿︵‿T B C‿︵‿︵

My first Winter King oneshot! This was so fun to make. Tell me if you'd like a part two!

reblog for a beginner writer?

Your complimentary WK fanart ^^

Please send asks! I love writing prompts!

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justporo · 4 months

Note

Could I request no. 44 (Public Kisses) please?

Maybe the kisser proving the kissee that they don’t care who’s watching and that they’re proud to be with them

(with either Astarion being worried about Tav being seen with ‘an undead’ or Durge worrying about Star being seen with a Bhaalspawn).

Thank you!

Last one for the kiss prompts - allow me to take the "not caring who watches" a bit further even. I fully didn't intend this to become this long (like always...) but here we are... Oh, and then I edited it and it became even longer. Enjoy Tav making clear they belong to Astarion and vice versa!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) | Wordcount: 2,2k | Warnings: light mention of violence / Act 2 spoilers

MASTERLIST | AO3

Affirmations

Everyone was staring - all the time.

It wasn't enough already that, entering Moonrise Towers again, meant venturing deep into the lion's den. But to add to this you couldn't even go unnoticed.

Of course not, you were a True Soul! In touch with the Absolute itself! Destined for great things! So there wasn't a single moment without a pair of eyes upon you. And you hated it - deeply.

Quite frankly, it seemed like the primary requisite to becoming a cultist of the Absolute was being way too fucking nosey. But you had to be honest with yourself you were at least partly to blame with the scene you had caused with this godsdamned drow yesterday.

Just thinking about her made your blood boil again. Just the way she had looked at you, but most of all Astarion. The arrogance, the unquestioned privilege - it immediately conjured another wave of bile rising up within you.

If not for the sake of the greater mission you would have very much liked shredding her to pieces so she would have never been able to even look at Astarion again. You would have done it with a pleasant smile on your face. But alas, it would have only complicated matters even further

Your visceral reaction had been surprising even to you. Normally you weren’t one for excessive blood shed. Actually you much more liked solving things without weapons: talking your way out of situations, tricking others. That was much more your style. But your bloodlust, brought on by a powerful urge to protect Astarion, had almost taken the better of you yesterday.

It had shaken you; not least your companions as well - and most of all Astarion.

All the way back to camp the vampire had been barely able to hide his wild mix of feelings - shock, admiration, insecurity. You had felt his wide red eyes on you the whole time and had known that something was about to happen. A tipping point had been reached.

But you hadn't even remotely been prepared for what had followed when Astarion had approached you when everyone else had already retired to their tents for the evening.

On the other end of the night the two of you had come out with a new layer added to your bond: fresh still, barely fully formed - but fueled by both of your deep desires to hold onto the other and not let go.

Immediately, it had been weird for the two of you after. The next morning you had barely been able to look at each other. Simply because this was daunting for either of you. Hells, not even the two of you knew how to go on from this but you were determined to make it work. And unsteadiness had quickly turned to small glances, short touches in passing as you all got ready for a new day ahead, affirming smiles - and some suspicion from your fellow companions.

When you had made your way back to the godsdamned towers you had felt uneasiness rise up again, tendrils of negative feelings forming a tight knot in your chest.

And in an overly brave moment you had grabbed for Astarion's hand when you had been about to enter the towers again - repeating a gesture from last night. Wishing to feel same kind of warmth and steadiness again and also relaying the same sentiment to the vampire you saw slightly nervously move his head to loosen the tension in his neck.

It had made the vampire almost recoil as he looked at you with shocked wide eyes and you were sure you had heard a surprised gasp from your other companions behind you. But when you had tried to let go again, immediately regretting your short-circuit action, you found that Astarion had been lightly holding on to your hand and had thrown you a small smile. You would have called it coy with anyone else but him.

The gesture hadn’t gone unnoticed by Lae’zel whose eyes had been steadily narrowed at the both of you from there on out.

Only when you had come across the first guards had Astarion let go, but not without squeezing your hand in his a last time.

You had stayed close to each other walking through the headquarters of the Absolute, trying to investigate this damned place further. An unsettling feeling was filling all of you but the only thing you could do was trying to pull through.

In the main hall - Ketheric's throne thankfully empty - most of the cultists had gathered for some strategy discussion. So, an excellent opportunity to listen in on them and maybe find someone to squeeze for some more information.

Thankfully, Gale and Shadowheart had somewhat taken the lead today giving you and Astarion some time to recover from everything that had happened. You were standing next to the vampire - your partner now, you reminded yourself - stealing glances up at him from time to time. He usually caught you while he stood there, arms crossed over his chest, throwing you a small smile in response that always made you turn away again, slightly blushing. But then you also noticed him peering at you out of the corner of his eyes. And despite your dire situation as a whole you couldn’t help but feel a little giddiness inside of you - maybe all wasn’t lost after all.

At the moment, Gale was talking to another higher-up drow, trying to convince her to give up some more details about Ketheric Thorm. She very much was having none of it, but the wizard kept deliberately trying. Shadowheart, meanwhile, did next to nothing to keep him from verbally digging his own grave.

It was then that you felt the hairs of your neck stand up and felt someone staring at you. With a sinister suspicion, you turned to look over your shoulder to find: Araj Oblodra looking at you angrily. The drow from the day before was openly staring at the two of you, after having just entered the hall, wearing a massive displeased snarl on her face.

You immediately felt your own face sour, a deep fold forming between your furrowed brows. At your negative reaction Astarion’s brows drew together quizzically and he looked over his shoulder as well. When he found what you were looking at his nose scrunched up in distaste, mirroring you closely. You even heard a low growl rumble in his chest. Had he been unsure yesterday how to react you had worked wonders to help him draw a line. Astarion’s repulsion was radiating off him, almost physical.

The drow kept staring. And so did you - not willing to give her the impression that her presence was bothering you.

Moments became minutes while Gale kept rambling with some half-hearted support from Shadowheart (the rest of the group staying painfully silent). Meanwhile, others noticed the silent staring contest across the room. Even more pairs of eyes were observing you now. Probably everyone here knew to the tiniest detail what had gone down yesterday. And the longer this moment was drawn out, the more you felt your grip on your emotions slip. One of your hands had formed into a fist at your side - nails biting into the flesh of your palm and leaving crescent moon indents behind.

Then an idea, or just an impulse really, sprung to your mind. Your eyes jumped to Astarion who was still staring down Araj through his brows, crimson eyes sparkling dangerously. One of his hands had casually wandered to the dagger at his side, wrist languidly resting on its hilt. A leisure threat, but an open one.

“Astarion,” you whispered silently to him, “you trust me, yes?”

The vampire’s brows furrowed a bit more, gaze flitting to you, then back to the drow still glaring at you.

“Of course, my love. Why-,” he began and quickly looked at you again. Then he interrupted himself. He must’ve seen your intention on your face and now he turned his head to fully look at you. His fingers unconsciously clenched around the pommel of his dagger now, focused on something entirely else than making barely hidden threats.

You threw him a questioning glance as you took a deep breath. He lightly nodded, a soft smile curling up one side of his mouth while he turned to you.

And then, before you would get too scared, you moved to grab Astarion’s face with both hands, stepped even closer to him and stood on your tiptoes to reach for his lips with your own.

There was another short moment before your mouths met in the kiss: his full lips slightly parting, his eyes open almost vulnerable, glinting with something much different from the anger before, if not less passionate.

A shaky breath left you as you stared up at him. You knew you must be pretty much mirroring his expression at this moment.

And you were sure that this, all of this, had been the right decision.

Then your lips met. A sigh immediately wandered from your mouth to his as Astarion kissed you open-mouthed, softly opening up yours. Then his tongue shortly ran over your lips, then entered your mouth, taking up yours in a dance you were already familiar with.

Astarion’s arms moved around you. He placed his hands on your hips but immediately let them wander to your behind to pull you closer to him, making you almost slam into his body. You felt him grinning as he did that. A yelp left your mouth, pleasantly surprised by his initiative, but didn’t break the kiss for a single moment.

You had done this dozens over dozens of times, almost the exact same motions. It had been enticing and electrifying each time, enjoying each time it had happened.

But this was different. Everyone’s eyes were on you. You were making it very official what you were to each other. Not only to your friends but for the whole world to see. And in that sense it felt very much like a first kiss altogether.

The passion was there, as Astarion kept deepening the kiss, turning his head, looking at you intensely as you batted your eyes open for a short moment. His hands were stroking up and down your back while yours had entered his hair, tugging on some curls, pulling his head closer.

Somewhere in the middle you had almost forgotten that you weren’t alone. You felt him smile as you desperately wanted to keep going. Gods, you never wanted to let go again.

But Astarion slightly withdrew, his lips hovering slightly over yours, looking at you through his lashes. His voice was sinful. “Think we��ve given them enough of a show, darling?”

You frowned, shook your head. And without another word you pulled him in again as you heard a low laughter from him vibrate through his chest and by proxy through your body as well. He was intoxicating and he knew it. You’d given him the room to start feeling good about it. And you were merely getting started.

The kiss went on for another few moments although becoming softer now, slower. Less a show than a treat for the two of you. Then you softly lifted your mouth from his and looked up at him: breathless and a little shaky now, but a wicked smile already forming on your lips from the passionate kiss as you were still on your tiptoes.

Astarion mirrored your smirk before he pressed a quick peck to the tip of your nose - in just a whim of the moment. His arms were still firmly around you, holding you close to him. You kept smiling at him.

And then your smile grew icy and vicious as you turned to Araj who was looking at you in shock now. You let your tongue run over your bared teeth as you kept up the eye contact, daring her. And eventually the drow turned away, unsettled while your grin grew even broader.

You noticed that almost everyone else around you had also turned away from the public show of passionate affection. Only some still dared to look at you out of the corner of their eyes.

A victorious smile crept onto your face as you looked at Astarion again who looked at you with his signature smirk and a keen sense of pride he didn’t even try to hide.

Then, after a while, you turned to the other side.

And were faced with your friends staring at you in disbelief, just blinking at the two of you. Even the unshakable Lae’zel looked slightly irritated, not being able to hold your gaze for long

“Hot!” Karlach exclaimed, her expression of shock quickly turning to a smug, broad grin. And in true Karlach fashion she gave you a thumbs-up and a wink - causing you to blush and bite your lip. “Get a tent, am I right?”

You must have gone a little overboard with your public display of your newly formed bond. Your heart dropped a little. But Astarion only softly laughed at that and affectionately bit into the tip of your pointy ear. Seemingly the ice for public displays of affection had been broken for him - with a cannonball.

“So, you guys are official now?”, Wyll asked while cocking his head, looking kind of sceptical. Shadowheart just rolled her eyes, while Gale seemed stuck in a state of being too flustered to react.

“I guess you could say that, little lord”, Astarion answered, grinning smugly, one eyebrow twitching and pulled you to his chest again with one arm casually around your waist. He couldn’t keep a proud tone out of his voice as he looked down at you again.

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3 #kiss prompts

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 24 days

Text

little cleric

masterlist

shadowheart x reader

blood and injury, hurt/comfort, minor angst, a little kiss

a/n: based on this request - no use of 'y/n' or 'tav', though i am inclined to use tav in the future unless you'd prefer different (let me know bc idk what to use)

wc: 1.1k

The stinging pain of metal sliced through your skin, leaving its mark on your sleeve and its painful etching of blood in the muscle of your upper arm.

Shadowheart watched as though time had slowed beneath a wretched coating of molasses as the arrow flew near her; she was lucky to escape its assault, but you hadn't the same favour.

The final blow was enough to knock you down. You were at her feet with a wail of pain, and she hated how she couldn't do anything to aid you. The battle was almost won, and all she hoped was that her body positioned in front of yours would serve as well as possible as a shield.

The claws of Shar had rid her of this ache - until you, it was foreign - but her stomach pulled each time a whimper of exhausted pain fell from your lips. Each time she checked on your tired body, blood-stained and gasping for breath, she felt her heart lurch. With such a sight, she almost wished you had not been that shine of light within the darkened shroud of her goddess - or that she hadn’t embarked on this journey at all. Though, she could never claim - even to herself - that she would rather rid herself of her time with you than bear her own suffering in witnessing yours.

In learning of love, Shadowheart has also learned of the bittersweet moments that accompany it. Your pain is hers, and she’s learning to brace its weight.

When the final foe had fallen, she didn’t waste a second; the cleric was crouched at your side with her arms hoisting your aching body to its feet. You leaned against her, and she could hear each shaking breath; she could feel the rapid thrum of your heart beneath her palm.

“Here,” she murmured, lifting a vial to your chapped lips. The crimson solution soothed you with minimal reprieve, but after such a tiresome battle, you all needed rest. Your lover was counting down the seconds until she had the strength to adequately heal you.

The journey back to camp wasn’t much of a trek, so, with a slowed pace and your companions letting you take your time, you soon made your way back—not without a fretting girlfriend by your side, however.

“I can’t help but blame myself for your injury,” she frowned. Her eyes stayed trained on her feet, and you could see the furrow in her brows when you glanced her way.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you returned. “I often find myself in precarious situations,” you added with a smile, hoping to appease her when she looked at you. You didn’t miss the cloud of guilt pass over her when she eyed the bruise beginning its appearance on your cheek.

“I know,” she smiled. “Though, I’d prefer it if you got yourself into fewer spots of bother.”

“Well, I do have a little cleric at my beck and call,” you teased, huffing at the shoulder she bumped into yours.

“This ‘little cleric’ may have to retire if you’re going to be injured so much,” she returned. “Think of it as a protest.”

“Loyal servants are hard to come by, I suppose,” you replied with a dramatised sigh just to hear her laugh.

“I’ll stay with you for now, I suppose,” she answered with a matching tone. “I have come to enjoy your company, afterall.”

“I’m glad.”

“So am I.” Her words were coated in sincerity, and her hand on your waist guided you in the direction of the stool beside her bedroll; you allowed her to aid your steps and felt the relief of finally being able to take a seat.

It was a comfortable quiet as she knelt at your feet, finding out the herbal ointment Jaheira supplied her with for when you get into your inevitable scrapes.

“Here, take this off,” she instructed, pulling at the hem of your clothing whilst she grabbed a wooden bowl of water.

“There are easier ways to get me naked, you know?” you mumbled, though you did as she said lest you be berated into complying.

“Oh, I know,” she smirked, dipping a bundle of cloth into the lukewarm water.

Her soft hand greeted your arm with a gentle touch, nudging you to position yourself in a way that would allow ample access to the wound. A mere potion of healing had done little to aid the gaping mark carved into your skin, you hissed through your teeth when she began to wipe it clean.

“I can’t say I enjoy seeing you like this,” she whispered. “Especially when it was caused by a weapon meant for me.”

She spoke to distract you - to distract herself, even. And, considering her affliction to vulnerability, you are always eager to listen. So you left room for her to continue.

“Under the influence of Shar, I was rid of this guilt. Another’s vulnerable state was merely a liability, and though I would tend to an ally, I would never feel their discomfort as my own,” her voice was small and even the ache of the makeshift bandaging being wrapped around your arm was soothed by her words.

“It’s a tricky thing to swallow—taking each of your blows as though they were my own. But I can’t say that I would trade it for anything else in this mess of a world we find ourselves in.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Of course not,” she quickly responded with a vehement shake of her head. “It’s new to me, and I’d be lying if I claimed it to be anything other than daunting, but I’m enjoying the change.”

You admired the light hair she’d opted for and the smile that had stayed the same throughout your time together.

“I’d like to keep sharing your pain if you’ll let me,” Shadowheart murmured, guiding your face with a gentle hold to wipe the blood and grime from your skin.

“Only if you’ll share yours, too,” you replied, your lips ghosting the pad of her thumb as she cupped your cheek in her hand.

“I wouldn’t dare deprive you of such a thing,” she grinned.

“Have I been brave enough to earn a kiss?” you smirked, ending with a pout and a nod towards your tended injury.

“I suppose so, lover.”

Her hand brought your face to hers, lips tentative so as not to disturb any marks of unease; her tongue swiped over your bottom lip, stealing your breath and your heart in one fell swoop. She pulled away much sooner than you’d have preferred, but you could still see the semblance of blame she cursed herself with.

She pushed herself away until she was beneath the purple, cushioned, comfort of her tent with enough space next to her to house your body.

“Come here,” she said, patting the place beside her, opening her arms for you to fall into as soon as you approached.

In the warmth of one another’s embrace, it was easy to fall beneath the impended sleep. Your eyes grew heavy, and her breathing evened—you felt her heart slow with the knowledge of your safety.

“Goodnight, love,” she murmured against the top of your head.

“Goodnight, ‘Heart.”

#shadowheart x reader #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate fanfiction

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manicpixiefelix · 21 days

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 21.

Summary: The morning after Oliver fucks around with Venetia, and he has the gall to act like he doesn't know why you and Felix are in such a bad mood. Unfortunately his lies about the event don't placate you the same way they do for Felix.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

A/N: 5412 words. this chapter was meant to explain felix & eddie's relationship, but that got YEETED to several chapters in the future when this ended up over 5k as it was. if you're questioning my characterisation of the reader, just know that they're a complex individual and dont always make the most thoughtful choices. sorry it's late, i still love this and you, i will finish this fic or die trying. <3

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

The morning sun is a cruel mistress, you think as one of the maids - Emily? You're barely awake, you can't quite tell in the onslaught of sudden light - pulls the curtains back, announcing breakfast would be ready shortly. Felix groans, sounding exactly as enthusiastic about the prospect as you feel.

"I'm cancelling today," he muttered, muffled where he'd sunk further down into the bed and pulled the covers over his head, "it doesn't exist." Wriggling onto your side and desperately trying to ignore the brightness of the impending day, you hummed in agreement.

"Sounds good to me," you yawned, squeezing your eyes shut, as if attempting to will yourself back to sleep. But you both know it can't really last.

Felix is grumbling under his breath the entire time he's getting dressed - stupid bloody Saltburn, and it's stupid bloody rules, and stupid bloody Oliver, and stupid, bloody, goddamn Venetia; the nerve on her, honestly - while all you could do was yawn, and make faint, distracted noises of agreement. Both of you go quiet on your way to breakfast, keeping your frustrations bottled up to keep the peace in front of the rest of the family, but it still didn't make things easier.

They're eating outside that morning, taking advantage of the beautiful weather by the courtyard. Venetia's looking all kind of pretty and smug, her gaze trained on Oliver as you and Felix join the table, while Farleigh looks to you, cigarette poised and beautiful between his slender fingers, wearing a grim expression as he takes in the state of you and his cousin. When his gaze meets yours, for a second it darkens, and he quirks a single eyebrow in unspoken question. Despite the way you sit primly in your chair, trying to feign nonchalance, Felix slumps down on your other side, between you and his father, the furthest seat from Oliver he can manage. It's answer enough.

"You sleep well?" Oliver turns to both you and Felix. It's almost like you can hear stupid, bloody Oliver run through Felix's head before he answers.

"No, not really, mate," Felix has never been one to hide how he feels. Once, you'd told him as much, and though he hadn't taken it well at the time - he'd been in a mood, it was why the topic had come up at all - but he'd come back to you the next day saying that Venetia and his parents had always told him as much. It was one of the reasons he liked being around you, he'd said, not because you don't bring up his moods - obviously you did - but he said he could never stay in a bad mood for too long around you. In this moment, you were really wishing that was true, because this level of sulking was one you'd only seen in the weeks after Eddie had left.

Oliver looks concerned, the picture of an innocent, worried friend, like he has absolutely no idea why Felix was clearly unhappy. You try not to look at Oliver as much as you can help it. So you stand, press a kiss to the top of Felix's head as you pass him, and make your way to get the both of you breakfast as Sir James talks about the dinner being hosted the following night. Apparently one of the attendees - Sackfield, Sussex natives, if you recall rightly - had dropped out, leaving the guest list at thirty.

"God I forgot about fucking dinner," Felix groaned around a cigarette he'd already managed to light in the short space of time he'd been at the table.

"Wait, who is coming to dinner again?" Farleigh asks with a vague frown.

"The Henrys," Venetia announced cheerfully as Farleigh sighed his protests. The girl had no fucking shame; you fight the urge to flick a blueberry at her, mostly since you know you'd miss at this distance.

"Who are the Henrys?" Oliver enquired, as if trying to ignore the mood of almost a third of the table. If you'd turned, you'd see him looking to you; even now you were seen as a fountain of information about the formalities and events that went on here. If you'd turned, you still wouldn't have answered him.

"Dad's friends," Venetia answers instead, "they're all called Henry."

"Not all of them," Sir James rebuffed quickly from beside his son, looking up from his morning paper.

"Just most," you called back, as if out of habit alone.

"It'll be fun," Elspeth tried to insist, though Venetia was quick to chime in again, smug as always as you made your way back to the table.

"It'll be, being molested by Henry," Venetia's smugness at least dropped with that, adding as an aside to her mother, "you know which one."

"Well I'll put you next to Oliver, then," Elspeth sniped back, "he can molest you instead."

Unfortunately you return the table just in time to see the look Oliver gives to Venetia, and the little giggle she answers with. No-one in this house knows subtlety and you kind of hate them both. However it seems you're not the only one who notices, as Felix's eyes flick between Oliver and his sister, glowering at them both as you place a plate of fresh fruit in front of him. He's surly enough that he doesn't even thank you, but in this moment, you don't care; expressions mirroring each other in a way neither guilty party seems to notice as they focus on each other instead.

"Oh, Oliver," the moment is broken, however, by Elspeth, energised with a new thought, reaching out to Oliver sitting beside her, catching his attention, stealing it from Venetia for the time being, "I was going to say, we should do something fun for your birthday." She's insistent, though Oliver is confused. Right about now you regret informing her that Oliver's birthday would be occurring during the time he was at Saltburn, "a proper party, no Henrys," she's insistent, "something actually fun;" she glances at Sir James, hand still resting on Oliver's, "what do you think, darling?"

"If Oliver would like it, I think it's a splendid idea," Sir James agrees amicably. You begin to eat your breakfast, hoping your gaze doesn't burn a hole in the table like you think it might.

"I think Oliver looks like he'd rather throw himself out of window," Farleigh chimes in flatly, actually startling a laugh from you that you have to quickly cover with a cough. When you look up, he's levelling a cold smile at the man himself, but when his gaze flicks to you and how you're trying to hide your embarrassment in a glass of water, his gaze turns almost fond. Solidarity; for all the shit he'd said to you last night, you really did adore Farleigh.

"What kind of party?" Oliver turns back to Elspeth, and you go back to your food, only after glancing quickly at Felix. He's too caught up in his brooding to be amused by Farleigh's aside; he's too caught up in his brooding to do more than smoke and poke at his breakfast with his fork like it's offended him.

"I don't know, whatever you want," Elspeth offers, already planning in her head, knowing the matriarch and her love of events, "what do you think? About a hundred people?" Chin on her hand, she's looking through Oliver more than she's looking at him.

"A hundred?"

"Or two," Elspeth takes his shock the wrong way entirely, "it invariably ends up being two with this sort of thing, doesn't it?" She looks over to her husband, while Oliver looks to you and Felix, that look in his eyes like he's out of his depth at Saltburn once more, "invite whoever you want," Elspeth insists, returning her attention to him, "all your friends -"

"What friends?" Farleigh mutters cruelly, but this you don't find nearly as amusing. For a moment, there's a twinge of guilt in your chest, but Sir James provides a clean distraction as he excitedly suggests the party be fancy dress.

While Elspeth and Sir James are both enthused about the suggestion - Sir James is always looking for an opportunity to wear his suit of armour, he's almost embarrassingly proud of it - Oliver tries to reach out to you like he can tell you're upset too, like he's concerned. When you shift out of his reach subtly, Felix catches sight of the movement and follows it to Oliver's hand coming back to rest on the table. Expression flickering with irritation, Felix offers you his cigarette, and you take it, crossing one leg over the other as he starts on his own breakfast and you push yours away with your free hand. Both of you are decidedly focused on the table.

Venetia absconds from the table for reasons you can't bring yourself to even half care about as Elspeth settles on A Midsummer Night's Dream as the theme for the party. Usually you'd be all but matching her joy at the suggestion, or at least matching Farleigh and his amused aside about slutty fairies, but your stomach is turning all of a sudden.

Felix clears his throat quietly, and takes a quick sip of water, but it still draws your attention, if not anyone else's. The way he gives the barest gesture with his head would be missed by anyone but you, but you can read it for what it is.

Go if you need to go, don't feel like you have to stay here.

Immediately you stand, drawing all eyes but Felix's, not caring either way. Handing back his cigarette, or what was left of it, he mutters a thanks, but doesn't look up from where he's lazer focused on his food.

"Captain," Duncan's voice speaks into the sudden silence, "if you have finished with your breakfast -"

"I have."

"Then I'd appreciate a brief word with you."

Nodding jerkily, you follow him into the foyer to see a thick, yellow envelope on a little table by the door, topped with a thin piece of card. He hands you the envelope first, before holding the card up to show you it was a notice from the local post office, telling you there was some large items that arrived. They'd be the flowers you'd had flown in; they wouldn't last long in some storage facility. Damn, alright, you sighed, expression pinched as you wondered if it was worth it to even pick them up at this point.

"Have someone collect them and put them in the greenhouse for now -"

"The greenhouse?" Duncan sounds almost confused.

"I mean, check if they're the flowers I ordered, first, and if they are, have them unpacked and put into the greenhouse, I'll get to them," you waved your hand dismissively through the air, "eventually."

"Of course," he acquiesces, and you thank him quietly.

Already exhausted by the day, despite it not even being close to noon, you head to your study, weighty envelope of documents in your hand. Later this week, they'd said in the email, you thought you'd have more time. Huh, that seems to be a sentiment plaguing you often these past few days.

"Everything alright?" Felix, draped over the wicker sofa on his balcony, hears you come in and doesn't even get up. Giving nothing more than an irrate, dismissive noise, you throw yourself onto the bed, "yeah it's a bit like that, isn't it?" He muses loud enough for you to hear.

"It can't be that hard to be a parent," you snapped, rolling onto your back, leaving the envelope on the bed by your side.

"If it was easy, nannies and wet nurses wouldn't have a job," Felix offers, though has the grace to add, "but I know what you mean." Then, sitting up, if the squeaking of the wicker was anything to go by, he asks what's wrong, softer this time. Looking to him, you scowl, and flick your hand to smack the envelope, "they being assholes to you again?"

"Always," you sighed, before adding without much thought, "sometimes I'm tempted to marry you so I can tell people I have half-decent parents for the first time in my life."

"But you'd have Venetia as a sister-in-law," Felix offered with clear distaste, but it's enough to get you to laugh, to break your discomfort.

"Forgot that part; you think Farleigh being my cousin is enough to make up for it?"

And Felix, thankfully, is grinning too. It's him who suggests getting out of the sweltering house on this beautiful day, getting out of both your heads with some time spent down by the pool. Right now, you'd take anything to try distract you from the packet of paper by your side.

The last thing you do before you head to the pool, book in one hand and towel in the other, is toss the envelope onto the desk in your study for later. Later you'd deal with your parents. Later you'd deal with Oliver and possibly get him expelled from Oxford if you're feeling especially vindictive after some reading or a swim. But for now, out of sight, out of mind.

Except it doesn't work for long.

While you'd chosen one of the armchairs to curl up in while you were in the early chapters of a memoir your Marketing professor had recommended to you, which was keeping your thoughts at bay, Felix had said he'd wanted to swim. After getting in for all of five minutes, he'd spent the rest of the time drinking jack and cokes through a curly straw and getting lost in his own thoughts again as he sunbathed. He's been alternating between smoking and sweets, and you have decidedly not commented on his attitude.

Both of you are wearing very little, looking as though you're on your way to the pool or the lake, probably looking like the start of any number of fantasies Oliver may have had. At least, that's what crosses your mind when you catch sight of him, gazing at you both with quiet longing. The sight of him like this, his eyes on you both, so clearly wanting, would have delighted you even twenty-four hours ago. Except so much had happened in those twenty-four hours.

I want to know you. I want to love you. But there's something wrong with you.

And then he'd gone and messed around with Venetia after you'd explicitly warned him not to. Your gaze leaves Oliver as he approaches, instead frowning down at your book, irritation settling in your bones.

Felix notices your shift before he notices Oliver. But that's when Oliver makes himself known.

"Hey," he drapes himself across the sun lounge on Felix's other side, blue eyes boring holes into the side of your best friend's head, while Felix refuses to acknowledge him, "Felix," Oliver tries more insistently, but gets no response, "is everything okay?" Finally Oliver asks. You turn a page pointedly, but Felix still answers.

"Yes," his tone is anything but okay, "why?"

"You seem annoyed about something," Oliver says carefully, almost demurely, "you both do," he adds after a moment as Felix makes a face. You turn another page you have not read.

"I'm not annoyed about anything," Felix clearly lied, and though Oliver sounded unconvinced, he tried to take him at his word. Except Felix isn't done, "it's just slightly bad form, that's all."

"What's bad form?" Oliver asks flatly, as if he has no fucking idea.

"What do you think?" Thankfully Felix's tone is annoyed enough for the both of you.

"What do you think?" He scoffed, disbelieving at this little act Oliver was clearly putting on, "getting with Venetia, Ollie," he has to spell out to make sure Oliver doesn't weasel out of the accusation. Still, he tries - the audacity.

"What makes you think I got with Venetia?"

"Farleigh saw you two," Felix answered immediately, "told Y/N all about it -" finally you allow yourself to look up, to level a cold stare at Oliver, who seems almost surprised when he meets your gaze; you make a faint tsk sound, as if to confirm, and go back to look at your book as Felix goes on, indignant, "it's just fucking cringe, mate, I mean really," he huffed, "you're my friend, you're supposed to be here with me -"

"Look, I didn't want to embarrass Venetia," Oliver cuts him off suddenly. Both you and Felix turns to look at Oliver very slowly.

"What do you mean?" Already Felix's voice is softer, still unable to fully bring himself to look at Oliver, while you're fascinated by the panic in Oliver's eyes.

"Well I saw her- I saw her outside and I went down to see was she okay," Oliver can't look at either of you in this moment; you wonder if he's scared to look you in the eyes as he weaves this little story of his. Fascinating to watch, "and... I think she got the wrong end of the stick because..." he trailed off, but his gaze returned to Felix. So gentle, so eager to placate his friend's ego, "she tries to kiss me, and I politely steered her away." It sounds very believable.

"Farleigh said you two were practically eating each other," you finally find your voice, still wary, unlike Felix, who was quickly buying into this series of events. He wants to believe in Oliver so badly.

"Oh, and you believe him?" Oliver shoots off almost automatically, but the minute his gaze meets yours, he has to look away; you absolutely still believed Farleigh, and Oliver could see it in your eyes. But then he's almost scoffing - "me and Venetia? Come on."

"Well, why didn't you tell me?" Felix sounded softly betrayed, but clearly won over, and Oliver returns his attention to the safer of the two of you, gaze trained on Felix and his pout.

"I just..." he searches for a believable answer, something Felix wouldn't hate him for; Venetia was still his sister after all, "I thought it'd be nicer not to," he settles on, "she was hammered, probably doesn't remember," which was unfortunately in character for the eldest Catton sibling.

"She's so embarrassing," Felix finally groaned, and you know he's bought it, hook, line, and sinker. You go back to your book, "and fucking Farleigh, what a little shit-stirrer," he huffs, to which you add, carefully casual.

"He's always known how to get a rise out of me," you know Farleigh wasn't lying to you; Farleigh was a shit-stirrer, but after last Summer, he would never be so cruel as to joke about this. But you play along. Oliver's looking at you now, you can see it in your peripheries, you can almost feel it.

"Well someone has to entertain us all," Oliver offers, to which Felix faintly agrees, glancing at you with a faint question in his eyes, like you're the final piece left to solidify whether he believes. Giving a faint, exasperated smile, you echo him softly - right - and see him finally relax, "that's why we love him," Oliver adds, in what you know is an incredibly pointed move, considering his strained relationship with Farleigh himself.

Felix finally breathes a loud sigh of relief.

"Thank god," he exclaims, like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, turning so casually to Oliver with an easy grin, "you know, I thought we had another Eddie situation," despite his casual mention of the past guest at Saltburn, you, several feet away, go perfectly still.

"Eddie?" Oliver asks carefully.

"Yeah, Eddie was my- um, he was my best friend at school," the way Felix stumbles over his wording momentarily is not lost to either you or Oliver, "and he came to stay with us," he continues as light as before, "and he kind of..." Felix makes an uncomfortable noise for a second, fidgeting at the memory, "developed a little thing for Venetia, and everything just got so awkward." Eddie broke Felix's fucking heart, your mind snarled defensively, though as he always has, since the initial betrayal had occurred, Felix retold a much lighter history, "yeah, it kind of ruined our... you know..."

"Ruined your friendship?" Oliver supplied, getting a noncommittal hum from Felix, who refused to elaborate further, "I can imagine," he quietly adds, sounding altogether empathetic to the situation.

Clearing his throat loudly, desperate to remove himself from the discomfort the memories had left him in, Felix declares his intentions to head back inside, not waiting for either Oliver or yourself before he collects his towel and absconds. At least, you find yourself thinking, he moves with far more ease, far less tension, than he'd arrived with. It eases something in you too, as you watch him go, able to smile at his retreating figure before remembering how you're still being watch by Oliver. Oliver who'd all but yelled at you last night because you hadn't told him about your mother. Oliver who you're almost certain definitely did fuck around with Venetia last night, despite what he'd said.

Sure, you could get over Oliver and Venetia being together for one night since he'd felt guilty for having betrayed Felix, and worked to create a lie that even absolved Venetia of anything other than being a predictable embarrassment to her brother. That you could forgive, even if you knew it was a lie.

But his words still haunt you from last night.

"You're still annoyed at me," Oliver moves to take Felix's seat the minute he figures Felix is out of earshot. You don't want to dignify the comment with a response; your sour look should be answer enough. But then his voice turns soft; "you didn't tell Felix what I said to you, did you?" It's not a real question; Oliver's watching you once more with a kind of anthropological fascination that you remember from back at Oxford. In an attempt to avoid his gaze, you bury your nose in your book.

"No idea what you mean."

There's something wrong with you.

"Can I be blunt for a moment?" Oliver asks with a surprising hesitancy. Oliver is often blunt, so the asking seems more and more like a performance than anything else. You turn the page of the book you're definitely not retaining a single word from.

"'m not going to stop you," you huffed momentarily. Oliver, for the long few seconds that follow, is quiet, is watching you. In this moment, his gaze is like a fucking scalpel; you wonder if he's going to ask if you realise believe him, or if he's realised how he hasn't even tried to apologise for what he'd said.

"Why 're you being good to me?"

"If what I am right now is your version of good, that's bloody tragic," you tell him airily, "what was I to you before, saint-like?" It comes out rather bitter, but thankfully Oliver doesn't seem deterred.

"You've always been good to me; all things considered I think this is the most saint-like I've ever seen you," and it sounds sincere enough that you lower your book, expression flat when you finally turn your attention to him. But his blue eyes are earnest, sitting on the edge of the chair far closer than before, all his attention, his focus on you, "you love me," he says quietly, almost awed by the words themselves, "even after all that stuff I said to you; you still love me enough to keep that from Felix -"

"Because how he feels about you shouldn't be effected by how you feel about me; it's not his business," you tried, feeling trapped by the truth of his words.

"You are his business," Oliver insists, and your mouth snaps closed; you kind of hate that he's right, "and you love him like nothing I've ever seen before," he wets his lips, eyes wide when he leans across the space towards you, hand coming to rest on your knee, "but you know he'd never give me another look if he heard about how I spoke to you -"

"I know," you agreed with an awkward little huff, finally, "so you could at least apologise to me," avoiding his eye contact, the silence spills from one moment to the next until you hear him take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry for prying about your mum," his thumb is gentle as he rubs small circles against your skin. The thing that lays unspoken between the two of you, the remainder of the apology, why it's lacking, is not a mystery; he's not sorry for the rest of his outburst because he believes it's true, and he knows you think so too.

Still, the apology itself has you relaxing, settling, feeling far more unburdened than before.

"What do you want me to say, Ollie?" Finally, you spoke. It's barely more than a sigh, book closed and head turned to the sky. When Oliver makes a confused noise, not quite sure about what you mean, you sighed, "if you meant what you said last night, about wanting to- to know me, to, you know -" love me, sits heavy on your tongue, unable to leave your lips, "what do you want to know, what do you want me to tell you, what can I say?"

It doesn't occur to you the way it does to Oliver, how starkly revealing your choice of words often is. Once again you find yourself acquiescing to others wants, to Oliver's implicit demand for your truth, taking the path of least resistance for yourself. Instead you're wondering why Oliver's hesitating now of all times, when finally being given what he'd apparently wanted; you don't understand his reluctance, how he feels as though he's coerced this offer from you, how he almost feels disgusted with himself for what he perceives to be your honesty under duress.

"What 're you reading?" He finds his voice finally, but it's surprisingly meek. This was not the question you'd been anticipating, and your eyes open, looking to him curiously. There's no coldness to your gaze anymore. Oliver's gone bashful and almost apologetic. Raising the book enough that you could show off the cover, you levelled a confused frown at him as he asks if it's good.

"It's dry," you tell him after a beat, "but it's modern, so it's not the worst of it's kind that I've slogged through." When you rise from your chair, he seems almost confused until you sit yourself down next to him, laying back on the sofa and coaxing him back to recline in the space by your side, as you'd done what feels like a million times over with Felix and Venetia. At first, Oliver is stiff, looking all too much like a timid deer, half pressed to you until you continue to explain, "a lot of biographies published by successful businessmen from pretty much any time before two-thousand will invariably have this weird undercurrent of biological essentialism and how the subject owes a lot of his confidence and intelligence and all that bullshit to the fact that he's a man, which is why I'm glad my professor had the good grace to recommend me this one, since that caveman-binary-bullshit is gross as hell."

Oliver nods where he's tucked up against your side, gazing at the book in your hand. You can feel him relax into the familiar contact.

"Is that really the most pressing question you had?" At least you sound far lighter than before when you asked it, almost teasing, and Oliver takes a deep breath, still looking at the biography and your finger stuck between the pages in leu of a bookmark.

"Why'd you go into business of all things to study?" His cheek presses against your shoulder, your arm around him warm and secure. A humourless laugh escapes you, and carefully you open the book with the one hand holding it.

"Because a failed lawyer makes a terrible CEO," you'd chuckled more to yourself than to Oliver. It takes you a moment to compose yourself and your thoughts before you give a proper explanation; "the only good thing about my father being in charge of my family's business is that he cares so little about it that he hasn't tried to interfere with it, and therefore hasn't run it into the ground, at least that's what Nan says." Then, wetting your lips, you give him an awkward smile, "you asked me a few days ago what my dad does; Andreas - that's my dad - he doesn't do anything," you admitted, "everyone thinks he runs the family business, but it's a vanity title. At best he's a trophy husband to Pearl - you met Pearl - and her artistic, philanthropy bullshit."

Oliver doesn't manage more than a quiet 'oh', but he settles himself against you, chin on your shoulder, arm warm when he drapes it over your middle. For a few, gentle moments you go back to reading, flipping back the few pages you'd skipped in your frustration with him earlier. There's comfort in the slow turning of pages, in the steady beat of Oliver's heartbeat pressed against your side, in the rhythm of your shared, quiet breaths.

"You still believe what Farleigh said, don't you?" Oliver's voice is so quiet in your ear, he actually sounds forlorn.

"Of course I do," you murmur back, trying to focus on the words in front of you.

"He's just trying to push your buttons."

"Farleigh doesn't have to try if he wants to menace me."

"Nothing I say will convince you, will it?"

Finally, you close your book, sighing faintly. Closing your eyes, allowing yourself to accept this conversation was happening now, you shake your head.

"You think I wanted to hurt Felix that badly that I'd fool around with Venetia?" Oliver tries again to convince you, but your tip your head to face him, expression unimpressed, but not unkind.

"Farleigh is a shit-stirrer, and I'd believe that Ven was drunk, but you, Oliver Quick, are neither as subtle as you think you are, nor as harmless as you want everyone to believe; I think I know that better than anyone," after a moment, you take a deep breath, "and trust me when I say that Farleigh wouldn't lie to me about this."

"If you believe that, why'd you let me lie to Felix?" Its as close to an omission of guilt as you'd get, but that's something about how Oliver apparently respects you enough to not outright deny it that brings you a strange comfort.

"You know why," voice softening once more, place your book down to free your hands. Holding his cheek gently, you can watch the faint guilt in his gaze before his eyes fall closed and he leans into your touch, "I know you won't do it again." His head tips until his forehead is pressed to yours, and you sit in this quiet moment for a long few seconds.

"I don't want to break Felix's heart," Oliver breathes, sounding, for the first time, genuinely remorseful. Hand moving from his cheek, you wrap him up in an embrace, "I do love him," he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper, adding, "and you."

"I know," you assured him, "our Ollie," you teased warmly, and though Oliver remains quiet, when you crack your eyes open you can see him turning red, fighting back a pleased smile, "you're very good at playing bashful, so I always find myself especially endeared in these moments between us when it's actually genuine," slips from your lips quite without you meaning it to, only causing Oliver's blush to deepen. But as soon as you've said it, seen his reaction, your grin widens and you double down, "catching you off guard always catches me off guard, I feel like you're always so deliberate -"

Oliver kisses you quick as you laugh, interrupting your teasing kind of analysis of him before you can get too far in. Another deliberate play, but this one you don't mind. Oliver pulls back from you, only a few inches, enough to once against rest his forehead against yours as you're still sharing this space, this single pool lounge together. He's grinning so brightly.

"At least there's one person here I can fool around with without my head getting bitten off because of it."

#felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x reader #felix catton imagine #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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wordsarelife · 3 months

Text

—fearless

pairing: george karim x gn!reader

summary: george admires you deeply. not only because you're his girlfriend, but because you have an extraordinary gift

warnings: slightly suggestive if you squint, mentions of dying, ghosts, the usual

note: i just noticed, that this was probably the last george fic i'll ever write. it was so fun to write and i love george with all my heart. i hope you guys like it!!

the stairs were rusty and every bit of wood was making a sound when you were walking over it. george was following you and even though you knew it were his steps behind you, they still made you turn around and check. just to be sure.

lockwood and lucy were inspecting the first floor of the house, while you had decided to accompany your boyfriend upstairs, feeling like a type two wasn't far away.

george had been impressed by your ghost fighting skills ever since you had joined lockwood and co. you were one of a kind, able to talk to ghosts and calm them down.

george had been a bit suspicious of you when you had told him and lockwood what you could do.

"sure" george had said "you know, when it gets dark i can fly"

lockwood had noticed the look you where sending his friend and had known right in that moment that the two of you were a match made in heaven. or at least thats what he liked to claim.

in reality he had to seperate the both of you, because you kept making each other more angry.

after your first case george had apologized to you and the rest was history.

"do you have the chain?" you turned around to look at him

he patted the bag hanging from his shoulder. you could hear the silver clinging and nodded relieved. "good"

he followed you into one of the bedrooms and closed the door. he put down the bag and started laying down the chain, while you inspected the walls. "not long" you mumbled while checking the temperature

"i can feel it too" george got up from the ground and watched you closely. you closed your eyes, feeling over the walls and hearing voices fill the room. you gasped, walking backwards, right into george's arms.

"what is it?" he asked worriedly

"it was an accident" you mumbled "she isn't angry"

as if on cue, a ghost emerged from the wall. she was flowing in front of you in a constant motion.

"then what is she?" george voice slipped into a light panic

"sad" you answered softly.

even without your special talent, you were able to notice that the ghost in front of you was the opposite of angry. she wasn't even coming closer. her long hair was flowing in the air and her eyes looked so regretful you almost wanted to pack everything up and leave her alone.

"hello" you said instead.

she looked confused at your try to talk with her.

"i'm y/n" you continued. you pointed behind you "this is george"

george raised his hand hesitantely "ehh, hi!"

"and you're maddy, right?" you asked and the ghost smiled "your mum told us about you" what she leave out where any information about how her daughter had died. now you were wishing she hadn't. the eyes of the little girl made you so sad, you almost couldn't concentrate. but you had to.

"yeah" george added, unsure if she could understand him as well. but you had told him she could, as long as he was holding onto your hand.

that was another extraordinary thing george had noticed. you were even able to share you talent, by touching other people. he could only admire you for using your power. he had never met someone less scared of ghosts than you. not even lockwood.

no ghost could scare you, he thought. not even wraiths. most of them would calm down by your presence alone. maybe it was that they had no one to talk to before, or it was just something about you. maybe your smile or your kindness that they could feel and kept them from hurting you.

"mum" maddy repeated and george's eyes grew soft when he heard her voice. it was a lot to see a young girl as a ghost, but her voice tore his heart open.

"yes" you smiled sympathetically. "she moved, that's why she's been gone"

"because of me?" maddy asked

you shook your head. "no, sweetheart. she wanted to take her with you, but she didn't know how, so she called us"

maddy smiled.

it was true what you were saying. her mum had been too scared to hurt her or destroy the ghost form of her daughter, while she had sworn that she was a friendly ghost. but she wasn't sure of she would react to the strange agents in her house. she had thought that maddy would be angry perhaps. that's why you came as prepared as you were.

lockwood had promised the woman to safely secure her daughters source, so she could take her with her.

"teddy" maddy said simply. your eyes wandered around the room, until they landed on a chair, a little teddybear sitting on top of it.

"this one?" you asked, picking up the bear.

maddy nodded.

"okay" you smiled. "we will put it under this net. you will be gone for some time, but we will give it to your mum and when you wake up, she will be there, okay?"

"okay" maddy said and george was surprised how easy it was to deal with her. almost too easy. as if on cue, you could hear loud sounds from downstairs.

"the man" maddy said fearfully

"what man, maddy?" you asked, hearing lucy cry out your name "you have to tell us, okay?"

"the angry man" maddy said again "he is screaming and he is mean"

"it's alright, sweetheart" you tried to calm her. george had never seen a ghost be scared before. "wrap her source" you took out the silver net and held it in george's direction. "we will make him leave" you assured maddy "and you will be with your mum"

"okay" maddy nodded and the next second she was gone.

"what now?"

"we have to get rid of an angry man" you smiled, leaving the room and dashing down the stairs to help your friends.

lucy and lockwood were in the middle of a fight with the ghost, when you entered the living room. "y/n" lucy called relieved "maybe you can-" she jumped to the side, escpaping a chair the ghost had swung at her "talk to him"

"i'm not sure that will work" lockwood panted, throwing a few saltbombs. "it won't take him long to come back" he fixed his suit.

"we have to find the source" you turned to george, who nodded at that. "you go" you told lucy and lockwood "we will take care of him"

"are you sure?" lockwood asked and you nodded, making a gesture for them to leave the room. "okay" lockwood said "we'll be quick"

"i know" george took his position next to you

"how about some netflix and chill after this?" you asked as soon as your friends hat left the room

"y/n!" the shock on george's face made you giggle

"what?" you laughed "a perfectly normal question if you ask me"

"you are always flirting in near death situations" george rolled his eyes

"yeah" you smiled smugly "but it got you to sleep with me, didn't it?"

"oh my god" george hid his face in his hands

"shit" your words made him look up. the ghost was slowly coming materialising again. you losened your belt, holding it in george's direction

"are you getting undressed?" george asked and his voice seemed to be a pitch higher than usual

"no" you dragged the word out "the belt is filled with saltbombs. i want you to get behind him and throw it, in case my plan doesn't work"

"what plan?"

"just do it, darling" george complied hesitantely, but did eventually walk across the room, behind the patch where the ghost was slowly coming back.

"hello" you muttered "maddy already told us about you"

"a talker" the ghost bid back, in a voice that send shivers down your spine. he seemed to be intrigued by you, which held him back from attacking you. well at least for now. "did she now?"

"she's scared of you"

"did you destroy her?" he was a lot calmer than he was before, george noticed, so he relaxed a bit, having new found trust in your abilities

"no" you said, truthfully "her mum is moving. she couldn't leave her behind" you explained "where did you come from? you weren't mentioned"

"i wasn't mentioned?" he repeated, laughing sarcastically "this is my house. i was here before any of you were even born" he screamed the last part and george was ready to throw the belt.

not yet, you mouthed in his direction. "we want to find your source. you'll be at peace" you said

"you want to destroy me" the ghost corrected angrily, but to george's surprise you didn't falter at his tone, but rather matched it.

"we want to save you" you said between clenched teeth "there's a clear difference there. let us help"

"you can't fool me" the ghost laughed

"fighting me is a lost cause" you crossed your arms "we got the best listener in the country. she will find your source and any fight will be in vain"

"you're foolish" the ghost muttered "you can talk to us and you don't use it for bigger things? we could rule the world" he clenched his fist, raising it diabotically.

"sorry" you smiled "i have a date at seven"

in the exact same second, as the ghost began charging at you, lucy called from the next room. do it you mouthed in george's direction. "contain it!" you called to the next room, moving on your feet quickly, to dodge the ghost's closer coming form.

george threw the saltbombs and a second later, the ghost disappeared. lockwood and lucy came back into the room. lucy held up the silver net, which was wrapped around a book.

"the bible" she said "who would've thought?"

"i don't care about his source" you shrugged your shoulders "let's get maddy back to her mum"

your friends nodded. leaving the house close behind you. ghosts like the second one where the true threat to your world, but maddy was the opposite. you didn't use your powers in a wrong way, like the man had claimed. you were doing the right thing with them. helping people who weren't able to help themselves.

on the way out you interlaced yours and george's fingers, thankful that the world you were living in had at least brought you both together.

#george karim x reader #george x reader #george karim #lockwoodandco #lockwood #lockwood and co #lucy carlyle #ali hadji heshmati #cameron chapman #ruby stokes #ghost hunting #anthony lockwood #netflix

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sunny-mercya · 4 months

Text

Guilty Eyes

01. Oppressive Anger

Guilty! Gojo Satoru x Male Reader

Fandom -> Jujutsu Kaisen

Masterlist || Next || Based Prototype

Sometimes, when the days are dragging and the nights too short for blissful sleep, sometimes Gojo wished for your anger.

Wished for you to scream at him, accusing him of all the things he had done—the lies he had told and the sins he committed—and throwing the most hurtful words and insults at him, you—with all your neutral and rational mind—could muster to say, then your tongue was coated with kindness and compassion—and saying such harsh hurtful regrettable words, to a friend you oh so adored, was as if your tongue had being chopped off.

He gladly, with great relief, takes your anger over your current state of mental being. Because if your angry at him, Gojo knows you're still here—being human.

Lazying around on the couch, Gojo stretched his arms up—pretending to reach the ceiling—looking at his hands, which are ragged with scars—tiny and pale skinned they are, barley noticeably—and at one particular scar his gaze lingered longer.

A scar which goes aslant from thumb to his pinky finger across the inside of his palm. It had been deep, healed ragged and bumpy and leaving a line of visible white.

Reminder to what he wished to receive from you again. Furious anger, like in the night he had—so causal as if it had been of unimportance—told you, that it was him who had killed Geto Suguru—your Husband—and would do it again if needed.

Oh, how Gojo reminiscent in such a memory;

~~~

When Gojo had asked you, via sms, to meet him in the Jujutsu Faculty—sounding urgently about whatever matter he wanted to tell you—you had hoped, perhaps foolish, that he and Geto had made up—being friends again.

Honestly you didn't wanted to come, would have preferred to have this talk tomorrow or in the afternoon instead in the dead of night.

You're exhausted, utterly tired. Eventful weeks it had been, you're daughters—you loved Nanako and Mimiko to death—had been pulling at your nerves all day long, with a whole field trip of shopping spree and then the repeating upcoming house chores, it left you feeling drained.

Plus the adding worry for Geto, who hadn't come home in two nights.

»Sato, I'm exhausted, so I hope whatever you wanna tell me, is something of importance and not some silliness.« you pinched out a sigh, rubbing your eyes.

»I killed Geto Suguru.«

Gojo had said it without batting a eyelash. No sugarcoating it, bluntly straightforward with nonchalantly.

»What?«

»I killed Geto Suguru.«

You frowned at him, breath hitching up in your chest. A silence emitted in between you two. Your brain, mind—however such a complex organ, was it even an organ though? You should ask leiri about it, is working—was fizzing with incomprehension lack of understanding.

Trying to defuse what Gojo had said. The meaning of doubleness behind it—decoding a code which probably doesn't exist.

That's, that's a nasty—cruel—joke to say, even for Gojo himself. Aren't they friends? Sure, not right now as both boys are having a small fallout, a break of each other, but still—they are friends.

Gojo takes a few steps towards you, standing almost before you. Towering over you, like a looming shadow. You half expected a grin from him, the taunting arrogant one, but Gojo lips are sealed shut into a line.

Gojo took your right-hand, holding it up and inspecting your ring-finger—the wedding ring weighing heavily now—promise of everlasting—a dim shimmer now in your eyes as if the flourishing light in the metal had burned out like a extinguished flame.

»I have killed Geto Suguru.« Gojo repeated it again, slower—dragging the words out, as if you're too slow to understand otherwise.

In a split second of silence, when it had begun to settle again—leaving everything too loud in your own ears, a thunderous blood rush to hear with a way too loud beating heart and breathing—a smack echoed through the room.

Gojo stumbled back in surprise, his sunglasses flying off from the impact of your hand and landing on the ground.

In astonishment, Gojo holds his cheek, which started to sting now and a slight throb to it. Never had he believed you would slap him.

He had expected a punch from you—you could hit hard and lightning quick, considering your curse ability, breaking someone's nose and bones with ease—but a slap? No way, that was out of character.

Blue eyes—so bright like the morning sky, a form of heaven and sea in its own—gazed, more like starred, into (Eye-Colour) eyes—which had a dust of slight gold in it, reminding one of the stars or actually, more of the jerking lightning's.

»Don't make such cruel jokes ever again, Satoru.«

»Here, I send you proof.« Gojo got his phone out, typing quickly on it and pocket it back. Watching how you take your own phone out and opening the attachment he had send to you.

It would have been like a dramatic episode of some Television, if the situation had been another—with a more humorous take—how your phone slides from your shaking hand and below onto the ground.

If the situation, its circumstances, had been different—Gojo would've chuckled, applauding himself and Geto proudly for tricking you so majestically perfectly—but it wasn't.

Your breath hitched again, clogging your lungs. It felt hard to breathe for mere moments. All oxygen leaving your body—causing a colour drain from your skin, leaving it ashen and sickly pale.

Then, like a wild animal—no, more like a madman full of hysterical bloodlust and surreal reality lost—you lunged at Gojo. Gripping his collar and tumbling to the ground with him.

You straddled his hips and Gojo—who had dreamed of such lustful scenario with you, having developed a longing of love—a crush per say—to you, let it remained hidden though—behind a friendship he valued more and knowing too well how strongly Geto's affection had been to you—would've snarky teased you

You slapped both sides of his cheeks, terror filled shrill screams of frustration and anger leaving your throat.

»HOW COULD YOU?! WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?!«

»Satoru, Why did you kill Suguru? Tell me, Satoru.«

»I had to. It's for greater good, for a cause of the better. I had to, to keep you safe.«

Gojo looked up into your eyes—dulled they are now, having lost its sparks and colours.

Those blue eyes, which once you have adored, are too bright now—bringing a discomfort out in you—itching you to scratch them out. Such blueness, who resembles heaven and sea—a reflection of refuge and safety when looking in them, could get someone lost for hours in their beauty—should be not allowed to see the world anymore.

You got off from Gojo, legs shaky and wobbly, walking towards the door, ready to leave this damned school—which only causes harm—for final and good.

»We're not friends anymore. If you dare to get near my daughters or me, I will kill you Gojo.«

Two years later—like a deja-vu it felt, though it wasn't Gojo himself who had told you these news, but he was there and for once he was aware of it—Gojo stood in front of you again.

Gojo had hold to his, himself giving, promise—after witnessing your thundering breakdown, your weeping causing a havoc throughout the coast and seas, during Geto's funeral—not to bother you anymore directly. Indirectly he still keeps discreetly watch over you.

Though this situation, a new circumstance, was a complete different chapter as the one before for the both of you—and yet it felt just like last time, a repeat.

Blinding rages fills your body, like a hot steam of tea and makes the sweat run down your skin.

Your faces scrunched up into a frown—lips jutting out and shaking, nose flaring up whenever another exhale of breath you took—and for once Gojo thought, just how ugly you're looking at this moment.

It's you, you you you you you you, your fault. No.

How, how can he dare to be in your presence again? You warned him and yet he is here.

Why was Gojo next to you, when the doctors—not the doctors but the pathologist—had told you that your daughters—your precious girls—are nothing but a exploding bloody mess of deranged limps and spilled organs.

He had no fucking right to be here, next to you and gazing at your mourning and sorrow.

Once the doctor had left, leaving you two alone in the lonesome of hallway, Gojo turned to you—an apologetic expression, filled with a hint of mournful, on his lips.

You wanted to suckerpuch him, pummel him into the ground. You didn't though, opted to just walked away.

It's me, me me me me me me me me, my fault.

You just wandered through the hallways, no real destination in mind. Just a mindless little walk. Unnoticeable, seems as you have forgotten, you didn't sense Gojo behind you as he followed you.

Your feet leading you into an operation room. The sterile tools for cutting up a Humans body, glistening in the dimly lit room so magnificent—that you felt drawn to them.

Taking the scalpel into your hand, moving the handle in your fingers, you take a look at its clean metal and sharp edge—so sharp indeed that it could easily..........yes.

Mind completely blank, knowing no more what's right or wrong—moral compass finally broken—and having no dignity and responsibility and neither respect to your own life and body left—you did what you never thought you would have been able to do.

In a swift clean motion you sliced your left wrist, pain seemed not to flare up at all—just a slight tingle—and then, with a eagerness as if it's the only thing to do with such passion, you stabbed the scalpel again and again into your chest—piercing your lungs and heart—and abdomen, wanting to quill your organs out like porridge.

When Gojo had come minutes later into the room you had disappeared in, he sucked in a breath and stood in stunned in stupor for seconds there.

Red and white. Red and white. Red and White. Red. Blood Red.

The essence of life, besides air and to a degree water, itself dripped from your body, your veins—like a leaking pipe—onto the white tiles below. Creating a puddle to sit in.

Gojo rushed to you, slipping on your blood and the polished tiles, hitting hard the ground and feeling the warmth of your blood on his hands and face.

He crawled on hands hand knees to you, kneeling before you now and gripping the scalpel. Gojo didn't care in this moment that he had took the sharp side in his hand, slicing open his palm and letting his own blood mingle with yours.

»My fault, my fault fault fault fault fault. It's all my fault–«

With shaky breath you repeated those words, trying to stab yourself more and more, but couldn't—someone's stopping you.

Gojo ripped the scalpel from your grip, deepen his own fresh wound even more and brought you in his arms. One hand holding your spilled organs back and the other supporting your head against his neck.

~~~

leiri had to put you into a two months coma and when you woke up, not even fulled healed, not only did you attack everyone around you who remotely comes near you—but you also had tried another suicidal attempt and this you almost managed to succession.

Somehow you got your hands on one of the stored away curses in the research faculty of the Special Sorcerers Hospital and well, to make things short—it had caused more brain damage than suspected at first.

~~~

Gojo blinked, eyes filling dry now after looking too long against the harsh light on the ceiling. He turned his head to the side, spotting you in the doorframe—looking frowning and disappointed at him.

»Can't sleep?«

»I hate you Satoru. I absolutely hate you, I hope you suffer death and burn in hell.«

Gojo only hummed, nodding and watching how you turned around—starting to walk few steps away and back to the bedroom, before coming back again.

You walked closer to him this time, face void of emotions and blanking staring at Gojo.

»Who are you?«

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@islesantuary

#male reader #x male reader #anime #manga #fanfiction #malereader #jujutsu kaisen #guilty gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x male reader

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lily-fics-11 · 21 days

Text

The Girl Next Door: Chapter 5 (Hazel Callahan, Bottoms)

Fic master post here (feel free to comment to be added to taglist)

The Girl Next Door

You hadn't been close with your neighbor Hazel for years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes

Chapter 5

Now that you are an official member of the fight club Hazel is ready to teach you everything she knows.

Word count: 4.2k

CW: Profanities. Canon level violence. Car almost crashing. Mention of a bomb.

“You better not kill me Callahan!” The warning comes with a playful smirk as Hazel backs out of her driveway.

“I swear I’m a good driver!” she laughs. That turned out to be an enormous lie. Hazel nearly gave you a concussion after slamming on the brakes as a yellow light turned red. You could have sworn she almost missed the red because she was looking over at you. But that is the type of wishful thinking that causes trouble. You see her wearing your initial on her wrist and you shake your head, reminding yourself that it doesn’t mean the same thing to her that it does to you.

In all honesty, flirting with death doesn’t sound so bad when sitting next to Hazel and dreaming about flirting with her.

“I’m not going to let PJ get away with what she pulled yesterday.” Hearing that tugs at your heartstrings. The girl you love being protective? What more could you want?

Without thinking, you put your hand on her thigh when you tell her that she shouldn’t give PJ the satisfaction. Hazel looks over at you, her jaw dropping. You quickly pull your hand away. “Oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to…” as you look away to avoid eye contact you realize that there is a stop sign that Hazel does not seem to be aware of. “Hazel the road!” You yell at her in a panic and she slams on the brakes just in time to avoid driving right into a busy intersection.

She looks over at you, afraid and ready to apologize. But it is just so damn cute and endearing that you start laughing. Her face goes from flustered to concerned. “I literally almost killed you!”

That makes you laugh even more. “What’s a few more bruises? Just drive, Hazel.” She regrips the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white, proceeding with great caution.

“I meant what I said about PJ. She’s not worth your time. There are more important things for you to focus on.” You tell Hazel before taking a sip of your coffee.

“Yeah, like you.”

Your heart stops for a second and you nearly spit out your coffee. “Like me!?” You exclaim, completely bewildered.

“I didn’t mean it like- it's just that- the thing about us is…” Hazel trails off for a moment like she has lost her train of thought. She takes a deep breath before continuing on. “I’m the one who introduced you to the club. It’s only fair that I fight you like I said I would. You’re a little behind, but I’ll teach you everything I know.”

“That sounds great Hazel, thank you.”

The rest of the car ride is awkwardly silent. Hazel is a yapper so that doesn’t bode well. Is she already regretting this? After arriving at school the two of you say “see you later” and part ways.

___________________________

The school day drags on, monotonously and endlessly. Missing Hazel increases exponentially as time passes. The hope that she still wants anything to do with you is the complete opposite. As the hours pass you convince yourself that you’ve royally fucked up.

Nerves have been building up all day, so when you get to the gym after school you are relieved to see that Hazel is once again talking to Josie and PJ. Hazel is glaring at PJ and she is glaring back, the conversation clearly heated. Josie is looking back and forth between the two like she wants to intervene but doesn’t know how.

It’s not long before PJ yells “lets get a move on cuntskillets!” Hazel is unfortunately on the opposite side of the gym from you, leaving you unable to get close to her. Instead of stepping into the center like she did yesterday, PJ stands alongside everyone else and says “alright, how about Hazel?” PJ’s eyes scan the group for a moment before landing on you. “Get out there princess!” she orders.

You and Hazel step forwards but keep your distance. Based on your observations of Hazel’s other fights, she seems to be much more calculated then everyone else. She uses moves that seem to be some sort of martial arts, whereas the rest of the girls just start shoving and throwing punches. Unsure of whether or not to make the first move, the two of you begin to circle each other. Hazel seems a little hesitant so it only makes sense to take the offensive position. Without wasting any time you charge forwards. Before making contact as intended, she swiftly turns out of the way and you stumble to the ground to avoid knocking anyone down with the momentum. Expecting Hazel to take advantage of your tumble, you twist up and around as fast as possible. Having said that, she is still choosing to leave a fair amount of space between you. You opt for a slower approach this time, but she flawlessly dodges the punch thrown her way once she is within reach.

After locking in Hazel’s gaze you smirk and roll your eyes. “Defense Callahan? Really?” Her lips part like she is about to say something but she hesitates before sighing. “You don’t know what you are doing, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m tougher than I look.”

Hazel shakes her head. “You need to learn what you are doing first.”

“Then give me a lesson, Haze. I’m a hands-on learner.” The taunt is paired with a wink. Adrenaline is fueling unprecedented confidence.

That earns you a smug look from Hazel. Her eyes are trained on yours when she gives in. “Fine. But I’m not going for your face. Unlike PJ, I know how to treat a pretty girl.” Before you can even process what she has said you are stumbling backwards after taking a jump kick to the chest. You smile, too focused on Hazel to be phased by the pain. She’s true to her word, not going anywhere near your face. All the same, she low key beats the shit out of you. Enjoying every second of it feels wrong. The euphoria is afflicting, but seeing her like this is invigorating. Fighting Hazel only makes you want her more.

She delivers a punch to the gut followed by a roundhouse kick. Allowing no time for regained footing, Hazel sends you crashing to the ground with a swift leg sweep. Back flat against the ground, Hazel looms over you, straddling your hips. You try to sit up, hands reaching forwards, in an attempt to push Hazel off. But she catches your hands in hers and laces her fingers through yours. She lunges forwards, slamming you into the ground, arms pinned down above your head. A competitive drive is the only thing keeping your thoughts from wandering suggestively. You squirm around and try to break free, but Hazel’s grip is firm and she is a lot stronger than she looks. If you simply tilted your head up your lips would meet hers. You hold your breath and close your eyes, fighting the urge to steal a kiss. When Hazel whispers “so how did I do?” your eyes shoot open, face burning red

“I’m not quite sure I’ve got the hang of this yet,” you murmur. “We should probably do this again sometime.” You long for that moment to last but Hazel pulls away with a cheeky grin. She gets up before helping you to your feet and shaking your hand. There is a dizziness that could be from your head hitting the ground so hard or the inability to come to terms with the feelings brought on by this.

You make it through another fight somewhat successfully. Being matched up with Isabel was more of a level playing field. Sure she has more experience, but she somewhat lacks strength and confidence. The lighthearted nature of wrestling with your close friend was very helpful in taking the edge off after the more intense fight with Hazel. It was all giggles and smiles with Isabel. As much fun as it was, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Hazel. Her watchful gaze was both unnerving and exciting.

Even after cooling down from the second fight your heart was racing thinking about the drive home. This morning had been confusing. It was awkward. But you two had still had a moment. And the fight? It was intense, intimate, and in all honesty, a bit of a mind fuck. You can’t believe how bold you had been or that Hazel had matched your energy. For you the tension had been palpable. Had it been the same for her? For everyone else in the room?

When the meeting is over you scramble to get your things and busy yourself by joking with Isabel about your fight. The distraction is enough to allow a few laughs, but also for you to nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a hand on the small of your back. Your head snaps around to be met with a concerned look on Hazel’s face. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m so sorry!” She quickly removes her hand and steps away. The loss of contact leaves behind an empty feeling, the yearning to be near her only getting worse.

After saying goodbye you head out with Hazel. She starts talking about how much she is enjoying watching everyone improve and that she is hopeful these girls actually stand a chance at defending themselves if they need to. Although getting the gist of what she is saying, the details are jumbled around, the overwhelming emotions an unavoidable distraction. You slowly start to zone out, unaware and out of it until Hazel asks “are you ok?” after getting into her car.

You shake your head and blink rapidly in an attempt to get grounded back into reality. Without looking over at her you make the excuse. “I’m just feeling a bit dizzy, that's all.” Fortunately you are a much better liar than your neighbor, though you hate giving her anything but the truth. However, these are extenuating circumstances.

Hazel gasps loudly. “I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you so hard.”

“That's not it, it's just that you um… you don’t need to apologize. It's all in my…” you stop and clear your throat, giving you enough time to shift your thoughts. Despite the apprehension you turn towards her so that she believes it when you assure her “I was the one who told you not to hold back. Don't worry about it Haze. If anything I should be thanking you, for presenting me with a challenge and politely avoiding my face.”

She bites her lip. “Remember what I said though. Even getting beat up can’t make a difference on a face like yours. But I’m still really sorry.”

You neglect to acknowledge most of what she just said in fear of taking it the wrong way. “Did you know you apologize a lot?”

Hazel takes a deep breath and covers her face with her hands. “I apologize so much because I feel like no matter how many times I say I’m sorry it will never be enough. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself for hurting you.”

“Hey, Haze, look at me.” She uncovers her face and there are tears in her hurt, puppy dog eyes.

“I forgive you, I really do. And you said you would make it up to me right? All I want is for things to go back to the way they were.” Thinking about that makes your heart hurt. It’s not your true desire, but it’s the best that you are going to get. She nods her head. “I just want… yeah, that's what I want too.”

“Just be mine,” you nearly choke on the air in your lungs after realizing what just slipped out. You quickly try to recover. “Just be my best friend again.”

“I’ll be whatever you need me to be.” Every last breath gets sucked out of your chest. If only Hazel knew how you really felt, she would show some mercy and be more careful with her words. She would pity you, but spare you any extra heartache. After regaining your composure you tell her “we should get going, I need to ice my whole body.”

You twiddle your thumbs, afraid of saying the wrong thing. You fear hearing more words that could be romanticized or mean something completely different for you than it does for her. After mustering up the courage, you change the subject.

“You know you actually seem to know what you are doing. When you're fighting. Where did you learn all those moves?” You inquire with genuine curiosity.

“Well I did tae kwon do for a little while but also Mortal Kombat.” Hazel explains.

“What’s Mortal Kombat?”

“It’s a video game.”

You chuckle. “Makes sense why I don’t know it. My gaming knowledge doesn’t go any further than the Sims.”

Hazel bites at her nails. “I play Mortal Kombat all the time. Do you have any plans Friday night? You can come over and we can play it. If you aren’t busy. And only if you want to.”

Your face lights up. “Friday? I'm free friday.”

—————————

The next few days go well. School work wasn’t too bad, no discernable drama, and more time spent with Hazel. You savor every moment with her, all of the car rides and getting up close and personal while fighting. Pinning each other to the ground is always the best part of your day. It is a little odd that all of your fights end that way, but you wouldn’t dare complain.

On Friday when you get to Hazel’s house Mrs. Callahan is sitting in the room off the foyer. “Is that who I think it is?” she calls, getting up to greet you. “Hazel told me you two were friends again but I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe it.”

“Mom!” Hazel groans. Mrs. Callahan puts her hands on her hips. “What honey? Can you blame me? It’s been years!”

“We are leaving now.” Hazel tells her sternly and grabs your arm to pull you away.

When you get to Hazel’s room you guys get settled. Hazel sits in her gaming chair and you get comfortable in a bean bag. She passes you a PS5 controller. “I’m assuming you don’t know how to use this?”

“That would be correct.” She angles her own controller towards you and starts pointing to the different buttons. There are some arrows and shapes? It is really hard to pay attention to what she is saying when you are looking at her hands. The silver rings on her fingers. How she effortlessly maneuvers different combos that mean nothing to you, but definitely get your heart racing. You don’t snap out of your daze until Hazel prompts you. “Think you've got it?”

You couldn’t repeat back a single thing she said but couldn’t tell her that. There was no world in which you clued her in on what had been distracting you, and even if she went over it all again the same thing would happen. “Yeah of course!” you lie with an enthusiastic nod.

Hazel loads up the game and a selection of characters come up. “Which one do you play as?” You inquire.

“I like to switch it up,” she explains. “Everyone has different special moves and I like getting to use them all. I haven’t played as Johnny Cage in a while so I think I’ll go with him this time.”

You scan the list of characters and declare “Sonya Blade looks like a baddie I’m playing as her.”

Hazel laughs. “What?” You question a little defensively. “Was that a bad choice? Should I pick someone else?”

“No, no. It’s just funny that you picked Sonya when I’m playing as Johnny. They were married and then got divorced. But they still love each other.” You are silent for a moment after hearing that. You had Hazel, only to a certain extent of course, but then you didn’t. You strayed away from loving her, but never too far.

“What a coincidence.” Your fake laugh is feeble at best. “I’m ready though, we can start the game.” After the game begins you start hitting random buttons, a futile effort. Hazel won rather quickly. She giggles. “I thought you said you were ready?” You roll your eyes with a smile. “I just need some practice, that's all. Start another round!” You demand playfully because you literally do not even know how to start a new round.

A seemingly endless cycle begins. Hazel beats you game after game with little to no effort. She eventually catches on that you might not have been getting everything she had explained earlier. You can only pray she doesn’t figure out why. “It seems like you didn’t get what I taught you before. But you said you are a hands-on learner right? Move over.” You abruptly attempt to shift over as far as you can while the bean bag chair is caving in. After failing to get very far Hazel plops down next to you. The two of you sink further into the middle, pressed up against each other. As much as you always hope to be this close to Hazel, you never actually know what to do when that fantasy becomes a reality. She sighs. “You aren’t even holding the controller right.” She reaches one arm around you and moves your hands into the correct position. This was definitely not how you imagined this evening going but you will be eternally grateful for the divine intervention. Hazel goes over the basics once again and then moves into the combos, guiding your hands into place for each one.

After going over everything again Hazel takes her arm back from around you. It feels wrong, like you belong in her arms, but you push that thought out of your mind. She puts both of her hands in her lap. Looking down, she fiddles with her rings. Hazel clears her throat and you look over to her and temporarily lose yourself. You desperately search her beautiful blue eyes for something, anything, that might indicate she wants you that way that you want her. But she looks uncomfortable, and even a little nervous. Your hopes and dreams are like waves, rising up only to crash back down, over and over again. Hazel’s lips are so close to yours. It would only take a small slip to bridge the gap between them. “Do you want to try another round?” She asks. “I won’t play, I'll just talk you through it.”

“Um yeah. Let’s try that.”

Over the next couple of games you actually start to get the hang of it, with Hazel’s help of course. Eventually you don’t even need any tips or reminders. After you really think you’ve got it, you announce “alright, I’m ready to beat you now.”

“If you say so,” Hazel laughs and gets up, leaving you regretting your decision, wishing you had played stupid. Damn your competitive nature. Especially because you played for another hour and didn’t even win a single time. Stupid. Stupid! Your ego is hurting when you groan, “ok, I surrender. I can’t do this anymore.” That leaves Hazel looking very smug and amused. “It’s basically dinner time anyway. Is there any chance you would want to, um, stay for that? We could order a pizza or something. Or we could get whatever you want. If you want to stay.” She looks down at the floor before you can answer,

You can’t help the blushing smile on your face. “Pizza sounds great.”

“Really?” she looks back up at you, her posture straightening up.

“Yeah! We could watch a movie or start a tv show,” you suggest with a shy smile.

Hazel blinks rapidly in disbelief. “You would want to start watching a show? With me?”

“Yeah, that way you have a reason to keep hanging out with me,” you tease her

A knowing smile spreads across Hazel’s face. “You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

“You say that now,” you begin, voice shaking before pulling yourself together to continue. “Just wait until I’m beating you up in fight club and in Mortal Kombat.”

“That's never going to happen. But I guess that means I’ll never have to lose you again.” Her words hit like a freight train that either came at the best or worst time, you aren’t sure which one.

You bite your lip. “You’re cheesier than this pizza is going to be Callahan. Keep it up though. I’ve missed it.”

Hazel looks away and scratches the back of her head. “Anything for you.” As hesitant as you are to believe her, there is no stopping your heart from nearly exploding.

Hazel orders the pizza and you guys stay hanging out where you were. Until the pizza arrives.

She puts it on her bed and gets comfortable. There is no point in denying that you’ve imagined this moment, ending up in Hazel’s bed, in your wildest dreams. But the reality of this is terrifying. It’s like reaching out for something but never actually being able to grab it. You are filled to the brim with anxiety when sitting down on the opposite side of the bed, at the very edge. Hazel is lounging comfortably but you are sitting with your knees tucked into your chest, arms wrapped around them to try and provide a sense of security. You are looking at the tv when your hand reaches into the pizza box, only to accidentally graze Hazel’s hand. You don’t even dare look over at her, just at the box, so that you can see when it’s safe to reach over again.

As time and episodes go on you start to relax. Instead of sitting as far away from Hazel as possible, in a state of disarray, you find yourself sitting with more ease in a spot that doesn’t come with the risk of falling onto the floor.

Once you are done eating Hazel leaves to put the leftover pizza away. While she’s gone your eyes wander around the room. All the old pictures are still up on the wall, and she has hung up the picture the two of you took the other day. She’s got quite a few completed Lego sets on display. There’s a basket of yarn in the corner, Hazel has always liked to crochet. An extensive collection of trinkets is scattered throughout the room. Movie and video game posters are plastered on the walls. There is something small, with wires sticking out of it, sitting in the middle of her desk. It looks almost like a… bomb? You don’t give it much thought. This is Hazel Callahan: certified sweetheart. She would never do anything to hurt anyone. Well, unless they deserved it.

When Hazel comes back into her room and crawls back into bed she sits much closer than anticipated. Close enough to lean your head on her shoulder and for her to put her arm around you. No matter how badly you want that you can’t let yourself get any closer. Being close and cuddling had always been normal for your guys but that was before you realized you were in love with the girl next door. But your neighbor did sit close to you, and it’s nice to see that she is comfortable with you once again. However, it would only cause agony if the two of you were doing the same thing with completely different intentions. You watch the show, laughing, talking, and overall having the best time, though painfully aware of what you are missing out on. Time does funny things when you’re with Hazel, so when you get a text and see that it’s midnight it makes a ton of sense, but also none at all. It’s a text from your mom. “Are you staying over at Hazel’s?”

Your face turns bright red. You were most definitely not going to spend the night with Hazel. The two of you are used to sleeping in the same bed but that was then and this is now. Wanting to sleep on the floor or in the guest room could raise suspicion. You clear your throat. “Wow, I can’t believe it’s already midnight. I should probably get going.”

Hazel looks over at you and seems a little disappointed. It pains you to see that look on her face. Unfortunately, you have learned the hard way that you need to protect your feelings before those of other people. She gives you a hug and you pull away rather quickly and get up a little awkwardly. Hazel’s dissatisfaction is evident. “I guess I won’t see you until Monday. Is it ok if I text you before then?” She asks hesitantly. You smile at her. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

#hazel callahan #hazelcallahan #bottoms hazel #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan blurb #hazel callahan bottoms #hazel x reader #hazelfanfic #hazel callahan brainrot #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan fic #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan headcanons #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x fem reader #hazel callahan x fem!reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel from bottoms #hazel callahan x reader

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atrwriting · 9 months

Text

the bee, the the bird, the bear -- uncle!carmy x babysitter!you

as always, warnings: major character death, past child neglect and abuse situations, swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, and eventual smut

one

“mallory... what’s your favorite color?” you asked the young girl next to you, lightly gripping her hand.

“pink,” the young girl said, keeping her eyes straight ahead at the aisle before her.

you stared down at her and fought back the urge to sigh. you tried not to hold it against her, but mallory berzatto was a tough cookie to crack. in the few days she had been around, barely anyone reported on her asking for anything she needed or wanted. you knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it was growing difficult to continue to remind yourself of that. you didn’t have any experience in how to console a child as they’re experiencing grief, and you weren’t exactly sure how to do that in a target.

“i love pink,” you stated. “maybe when you get older, i’ll show you my favorite pink makeup.”

the girl only nodded. you glanced back down at her… almost wishing you hadn't. you didn't know if it was because it was the sight you were most worried for, but looking down at that girl made your heart hurt. all you saw in her eyes was vacant space. dark, blank, vacant space. it was like ghosts casted a haze over her brown irises… and you had no idea what to do. toxic positivity? offer to get her ice cream? you knew you shouldn't push as you couldn’t exactly blame her.

so you brought out the big guns.

“so, mallory…” you began. “do you like... starbucks?”

mallory’s head immediately turned on a swivel up towards your face, where you stood a foot or two above her. a small twinkle appeared in her eye, and you knew you couldn’t let it pass.

“have you heard of…” you began, wiggling your eyebrows. “a pink drink?”

——————

a little while after you had gotten home from target, mallory said she was feeling sleepy. she left you to go fall asleep on the couch in the living room. your next task was to do up her new room.

carmy had made sure to deliver a bed for his niece before you arrived. a quick vacuum and washing of the walls had been done before you were hired. you sighed, satisfied, before pulling out your phone.

you: i hope you don’t mind… but i bought pink wallpaper.

carmy: she like pink?

you: her favorite color

carmy: that’s fine then.

that was all you needed before you set right to work.

it took much longer than expected to perfectly set up the light pink wallpaper — but once it was finished, you immediately started on your other tasks. you found white bed sheets and a comforter with pastel floral designs that complimented the color of the walls. it was soft and airy and you hoped it would make the young girl feel better in her new home. it would be some time before carmen would be able to get furniture, so you bought a few of those cubicles with cute cloth drawers. they were trendy at the moment, but above all else: they were sturdy, cheap, and easy to put together.

you started folding the young girl’s clothes; tops, pants, dresses, skirts — the works. you weren’t sure of the girl’s situation before her mother had passed away… but the girl did not have many belongings after her mother passed. you were tasked with restocking the girl’s bedroom, including wardrobe, and that you did.

….while adding one princess costume. she said she liked tianna. so you bought it as a surprise.

he could take it out of your pay — if he really gave that much of a shit.

you had stacked a few books that you had grabbed from your younger years that your family had been saving — the books deserved more than just collecting dust. they deserved to be used by a young girl like mallory.

you grabbed what else you could, too — extra sheets, extra clothes, and a winter jacket on the smaller side that your mother had vacuumed sealed many years ago. winter wasn’t for another few months, but you didn’t want to see her without any of the things she needed.

it was growing late, but not close to the time that carmy usually came back to the apartment. mallory had slept through dinner — so for when she woke up, you made sure to prepare her one of your favorites from when you were a little girl: pastina. sure, it was good — but it was also quick, cheap, and easy to make.

you spied the little girl’s awakening state from peaking around the kitchen threshold.

“hungry?” you asked, trying to appear cheery.

“not really,” she whispered.

you clenched your teeth, not really knowing what to do. you didn’t want to force her… but she barely ate anything at breakfast, and hadn’t eaten anything at lunch. “what if… you tried to eat as much as you could, and then i could show you your new room?”

she tilted her head in curiosity. “my… room?”

you nodded, smiling.

“i shared one with my mommy before.”

you swallowed hard. you didn’t know what to say — so you pretended she didn’t say it. shitty, sure, but what else could you do? instead, you responded, “i hope you like the color of your room.”

her eyes widened as her mouth fell open. “what color!?”

you grinned, stirring the pot. “i’ll tell you after dinner! you think you want to try?”

she hesitated for a second, appearing yo consider her options. you raised your eyebrows at her, hoping to influence her in the right direction.

“okay,” she stated. “it better be pink!”

——————

carmen came home a few hours later. you were on the couch, flipping through one of your textbooks, when you heard the lock click and a man’s voice sigh and enter the apartment.

“hey,” he called, setting bags down on the counter.

“hey,” you responded. “i made mallory some pastina earlier — i made extra in case you wanted some.”

“thanks,” he responded, heading into the kitchen. “how was she today?”

“she was good.” you smiled. “seemed a little sad… but i think her new room made her feel better.”

“you already put it together?” he asked. carmen was spooning the leftover pastina you had made into a bowl for himself. the thought made you smile — an award winning chef eating your, in comparison, lame food.

you nodded. “yeah, shit, sorry — should’ve asked you before. i just figured because you were busy — that it would, um... it would help you out.”

he nodded, averting his eyes to the ground. he placed his hands on his hips as he considered your words. “no, yeah, yeah — you’re right.”

you shrugged, stuffing your books in your bag. “at least now you have time to do — other things with here. bonding, and stuff.”

he laughed slightly at that. “that… is proving to be difficult.”

you nodded. “movies are a good start. disney plus.”

he threw up a few lazy pointer fingers, quite literally pointing out that you had a good idea. “yeah, yeah, right… actually… would you mind setting that account up tomorrow for me? i’ll leave you the credit card.”

you nodded, and laughed a bit. “that’ll make her really happy. can i… be intrusive, for a second?”

he didn’t even get it a second thought as he shoveled food into his mouth. “shoot.”

“i know that you’ve got a lot on your plate,” you began, swallowing. “did you have a chance yet to… look into doctors, or dentists for her?”

his jaw tightened. “the social worker left a brochure, but, um — no, i haven’t.”

you nodded. “if you want… i could call around tomorrow. i know you’re busy.”

“fuck,” he groaned, his eyes averting aimlessly towards the countertop. his tongue poked out through his lips, and slid over the cracked skin as he appeared to be consumed by his worries. “i have to put her on my insurance.”

you swallowed again. “…leave me that number, too?… or, if that’s too invasive, uh—“

“no,” he interrupted, staring at you. he shook his head thoughtfully, as if to silently dismiss you worry. “that would actually be… really helpful. thank you.”

you shook off the praise, not wanting a blush to rise to your cheeks. “she’s super sweet. i just — want to help her is all. can i ask… what happened, to her mom?”

“drug overdose,” he answered plainly, nodding almost.

your eyebrows rose as your mouth fell slightly agape. that poor, fucking girl. you fidgeted with your fingers before you spoke once more. “she said that… she used to share a bedroom with her mom today. it’s not my business, but — i figured — you should know —“

“her mom stayed at the places she would score from,” he responded.

your jaw dropped. you couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out: “that poor baby girl.”

he nodded then, placing his hands on his hips. you hadn’t known him for long, but it seemed like he did that when he was uncomfortable and/or didn’t know what to do. you figured he was also probably tired, and wanted to eat in peace, so you began packing your things to head out.

“hey, uh... carm?” you called, almost at the door.

“yeah?” he answered from the kitchen, as he unloaded the dishwasher.

“she’s lucky to have you.” you smiled at him as he was completely frozen in place, staring back at you. you closed the door behind you and left for home.

carmen didn’t know what to do with your words. he hasn’t really considered that, frankly, the girl, his niece, was lucky to be out of the situation she was — even if the berzatto family was a bunch of fuck ups who didn’t know how to control their emotions. carmen didn’t like to keep thinking about it, though — it had been hard to think about his niece, because then he usually thought of mikey — and that was too painful.

building the bear was… almost like closure. closing a chapter, but being able to look back at it fondly. however, when he was first introduced to his niece, who was the spitting image of his late brother… all of those thoughts crept back into him then.

staring at the little girl, mallory, was like the bear had never happened. the beef was still in existence; a flaming pile of shit, kicking and screaming. order was gone through the window, as was carmy’s small shred of sanity he had worked so hard to build and hold onto.

but she had smiled up at him, the first day they met — and he almost bawled his eyes out like a baby. a pathetic, fucking baby.

much like he had learned from construction of the bear, feeling collected and confident — bare minimum feeling okay — took time. a lot of time, money, and effort — but also time, and carmy could do time. he was barely at thirty, and some days he felt like he had no time — but he would make time. for mikey’s daughter — his niece, mallory.

he walked into mallory’s room after he had finished unloading the dishwasher. mallory insisted on keeping the door open with a super bright night light as she slept — so he only felt kind of bad walking into her room as she slept. he peeked around and his eyes widened.

it was like he had hired barbie instead of the girl next door studying for a law degree. the wallpaper was set perfect, faux dressers — he really had to get real ones, but that could wait — were set up and filled with clothes, there were books, toys, and it was decorated very nicely.

you had spoiled mallory.

you had spoiled mallory where carmy couldn’t find the time.

you had said before you had left that mallory was lucky to have him… but all carmy could think about, staring at his niece, sleeping peacefully despite all she had been through, surrounded by items and colors that looked like it was out of a magazine, was how lucky he was to have you to come into his life.

carmy was lucky to have you, and he would prove to his niece that he was lucky to have her around, too.

#carmy berzatto #carmy smut #carmy #carmen #carmen berzatto #carmy au #carmy fic #carmy fluff #sugar #richie #sydney #the bear

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felixsramen · 11 months

Text

Yours Truly

This is part 11 to my Skz poly fic. I'm glad you guys seem to enjoy it these have been kinda soothing writing. This one's kinda short but I promise next chapter will be longer.

Previous<<<<< Next>>>>>

Warnings: mentions of sex, doesn't go in description though

It had been 4 days since that date. You were kinda surprised and upset that you hadn't gotten a text or a call from any of the boys. Maybe you should've texted? Well that's what you were doing now.

You only had 2 of their numbers. Felix and Changbins. You decided to text Changbin knowing he'd probably text back sooner or at least you had hoped he would.

'Hey Bin I was wondering if you wouldn't mind making a chat with all of the boys?'

You watch as you look back at your computer screen. You were elbow deep in notes and typing up papers for work. You weren't even at the office though. You had gotten an email from your boss letting you know that the office was still closed and it probably would be for a while longer.

You didn't mind though. You didn't hate the work but you hated the people. They were all stuck up thinking they were too good and talking behind each other's backs. If the money wasn't good you'd probably quit. It was such a toxic working environment.

Your phone lights up.

'Of course I don't mind.' Changbin texts back.

His text brought a smile to your face. Within seconds you get texts from all 8 boys.

'Hi Y/N it's Chan' one text says.

'Im sure you already know who I am 💋' you chuckle of course you knew who it was.

'No she doesn't all she knows is that you sent a kissing emoji Ji' You laugh at that knowing it was Felix. Of course it was Felix who had always joked with Jisung.

'Don't be stupid already you two I'm Hyunjin' the text says.

'We'll come in Seungmins room right now' Felix texts and you laugh.

'I wish you guys would' Hyunjin texts back.

'Do not come in my room' a text says from who you assume is Seungmin.

'Dont test us' Jisung texts.

'You guys won't' Hyunjin texts back then there's no reply from either of them.

Instead there's another text. 'See now this is why I lock my room door 😑' Seungmin says and you laugh.

'Ignoring our 3 ridiculous boyfriends I'm Minho' a text says.

'It's Jeongin, I.n. or Innie whichever you'd like to call me' Jeongin says and you smile at his words remembering how the boys had called him Innie when you first met.

'Hi Innie' you text back.

'Hi Y/N' Jeongin says back.

'You already have my number but it's Changbin.'

'Well I'm sure you guys all know who I am then' you text in the group chat.

'Of course we do' Chan texts back.

'Hows work going' Jisung who is now back asks you.

'Its been taking up most of my time even though I'm not at the office and probably won't be for a while' you text back.

'Oh why aren't you at the office' Minho asks.

'They're adding a new floor which will probably end up taking a month or so' you text back.

'Well if you're not busy tomorrow could you stop by and help me redye my hair blonde the roots are starting to show and I hate the uneven colors' Felix texts.

'Why not me again' Changbin asks.

'As much as I love and cherish you and would do literally anything for you I'm not letting you help me again you almost had my hair fall out' Felix texts and you laugh.

'I literally read the directions' Changbin says.

'You read the directions but didn't set a timer after 30 minutes I asked you how much longer you said like 10 minutes then after the 10 I asked you again and you said a little bit longer it was almost an hour before I washed out the hair dye and I was terrified my hair was going to fall out 😭' Felix says.

'That's fair' Changbin says and you laugh.

'So will you Y/N please 🥺' Felix asks you.

'I'll try my best to get all my work done for tomorrow done today and then head over there and help you tomorrow 😊' You reply back.

'Thank you so much!' Felix says and it makes you smile.

'Of course' you text.

'Since you're coming over tomorrow why don't you help me cut the ends of my hair' Jisung says.

'Dont you guys have hairdressers?' you ask.

'Yeah but they're not you' Jisung says and it makes you smile.

'Okay I'll come help you but I'm reminding you Ji I'm not a hairdresser' You say to him.

'Don't be upset when your bald tomorrow Ji' Hyunjin texts and you laugh.

'Im not that bad' you say.

'Hey if I'm bald tomorrow at least I'll be bald and happy knowing Y/N cut it' Jisung says and you laugh.

'Ji I love you and I'd do anything for you but if you go bald you won't ever see me again' Hyunjin says.

'So you love me for my hair is what I'm hearing' Jisung texts.

'Please do not make Jisung bald' Minho says.

'I wasn't planning on it😂' You text.

'I'd be upset bc I like pulling his hair during sex' Hyunjin says and your surprised by that text but quickly realize it was Hyunjin and Jisung asking you and teasing you about Felix so you weren't as surprised.

'Really Hyunjin? Now was the time to text that' Chan texts.

'Now or never and it's true so what's the problem' Hyunjin texts.

'Well I'm not making Jisung bald so you'll still be able to pull his hair' You text.

'See Y/N gets what I'm saying are you a hair puller too?' Hyunjin asks. You laugh.

'You don't have to answer that' Seungmin texts.

'I don't mind but to answer your question it depends on the person' You texts back.

No one texts back for a second. Maybe you shouldn't have answered that.

'You're driving me crazy' Hyunjin texts back.

'You're not the only one' Jisung texts.

'You have no idea the effect you have on us do you' Minho texts.

You're surprised by all those texts and look away from your phone for a moment trying to calm yourself.

Another buzz brings you back to reality.

'Stop being horny we need Y/N to finish her work so she can can come over tomorrow' Felix texts.

'Don't pretend you weren't affected by it Lix' Hyunjin texts.

'Like I said let's let her finish her work'

'Fine' Hyunjin says.

'Bye Y/N!!!' Jisung texts.

'Bye Y/N see you tomorrow' Felix texts.

'See you tomorrow' Hyunjin texts.

'Bye Y/N have a good night' Chan texts.

'Hopefully if I'm not busy with work I'll see you tomorrow' Minho texts.

'I'll see you tomorrow Y/N' Jeongin texts.

'We'll see you tomorrow' Seungmin texts.

'Sorry for the craziness we'll talk tomorrow' Changbin texts.

'Bye you guys I'll see hopefully all of you tomorrow' You text back.

With that you turn off your phone going back to your computer. You really needed to finish all your work for tomorrow so you could go over there.

You didn't realize how much you loved seeing the boys and how much you missed talking to them. They all had their unique personalities and you loved that.

You needed to finish this work so you could see them so you push them from your thoughts for now typing again on your computer.

Taglist: @queenmea604 @lolareadsimagines @tinyworld18 @liv302 @jinniespuppy @stephy-nicole13 @haikyuuisposts @freyaniobe @chansbabygirlsstuff @jkookiejiminlvr @hyuneyeon @aerisho @sirenthalia @nagadiluc @tenshimara @leeknowleeknow @boi-bi-ahaha @shltsnglggles @jfkedldndkd @tinystarsthing @armystay89 @baby-fairy-yas @haileybugulug @freckleboilix @im-sinking-in-mud

#skz smut #stray kids smut #poly skz #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

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spacesquidlings · 6 months

Text

In The Starlight I Was Free

Description: Astarion hadn't thought he would ever know happiness, and more than that he'd thought he would never know what it was to truly love, and loved in return. And yet here he was, with his partner curled so lovingly against him, who showered him in affection every day. Who he so wholly adored, and who he wanted to show just how deep his love, and his want of her, go.

Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (Aspen)

Warnings: NSFW, cock warming, blow job, hand job, exhibitionism (sort of), sleepy sex

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

The sky was awash with starlight, so bright it could have been mistaken for the sun.

Well, not entirely. There was a gem-like glitter to the stars, a cold, sharp light more reminiscent of sharp-edged diamonds. In comparison the sun could be anything. Buttery and soft, gliding across his skin like feathered wings. Harsh and brutal, unforgiving as fire. Thin and watery, like weak beer. There were words he did not have to describe the sun, how different it could be every day, how it could change at any point during the day, how it could set the sky ablaze, or soften the edges of the world in blush pinks and bruised purples.

Not that Astarion was a connoisseur of the sun by any means, he hadn’t set foot in it for centuries, fearful of the scorching pain that would turn his body to cinders.

But doomed though it was, to have the tadpole buried in his brain, he could not help but be thankful for it, for allowing him to wrest himself free of his enslavement, for allowing him to set foot in the sun once more, to feel it on his skin, to experience the ebb and flow of its light and warmth like ocean tides.

He found he much preferred it, the sunlight, to the coldness of the stars and the darkness that bled out between their light like a fathomless pit.

Tonight, though, the stars were so bright he couldn’t help but stare up at them, watching as they flickered, as deep purples bled into the sky, softening the darkness. The moon was nearly full, casting a veil of silver over everything he could see, turning benign things into something nearly magical.

He could have laughed at himself, waxing on to no one about the stars and the sun and the moonlight making the dark seem ethereal, like some wild place he could vanish into and be safe from the monsters stalking the world, where he would no longer be a monster himself.

Yet even if that were true, if a portal made of moonlight appeared, a doorway leading him to a world where he could be safe, he wasn’t sure if he would even take it anymore. This world had been cruel, but he had found scraps of kindness, of precious, delicate things he wished he could hold safely in his hands, to cradle it against his heart.

Beside him, his partner yawned, stretching her arms above her, dragging them through the grass before rolling onto her side and nestling against him.

“Are you still awake, darling?” He slid one arm around her middle, tracing his fingers over her waist, her hip.

Aspen’s nose wrinkled, her lips pressing into a thin line that told him she was trying very hard not to laugh. “No.”

“Ah, I see.” He chuckled, mirth dancing in his heart. “Don’t let me disturb you from your dreams, then.”

Mirth was new to him, a strange giddiness that reminded him of sunlight bleeding through a canopy of leaves, staining everything in gold. He had only recently added it to his repertoire, and now it seemed to bubble in his chest alongside his traitorous heart at the slightest of provocations. She would say something objectively unfunny, like some tragic little pun, and he would feel it stirring. She would wrinkle her nose and roll her eyes when he teased her and there it would be, like seafoam gathering on waves. She would take his hand, or laugh brilliantly, or look back at him with delight in her eyes after mastering some new spell or song, and there it would be like a laugh in his throat.

He felt it almost every day, trailing behind him as they drew closer to the end of their quest, to whatever would lie beyond them in the future when the tadpoles were gone. This was certainly no time to be feeling such a childish delight, and yet he did. He did constantly.

He felt it now, lips quivering from the effort of not smirking as she nuzzled against his side, her arms wrapping around him. He’d never known himself capable of loving someone as much as he did her. He’d never known himself capable of being loved, certainly not as much as she loved him.

It was in all the little things she did, in the quiet questions before kissing him, before so much as holding his hand. It was in the way she would run her fingers through his hair, let him rest his head on her chest while she slept, listening to her even breaths, relishing the warmth that seeped into him until he felt like he was truly alive. It was in how she trusted him entirely, never doubting him. In how she’d begun to open up about herself, as much as she was always asking him about him.

He could have spent another century listing off little things. The way she smiled, the way her hands tangled with his, the way she would always try to make him comfortable before she went to sleep, the way she always did odd little things that brought a smile to his face.

She’d managed to get her hands on a cloth notebook, how he wasn’t even sure, insisting that she planned to learn to draw so she could show him how she saw him, since mirrors still would not reveal his face to himself. He’d managed to get a peek once while she was practising, and had nearly burst into laughter. She’d been trying so earnestly, but she had neither skill nor talent for it, and the sketches reminded him more of something a child first learning to hold a pencil would create.

“My dear, please don’t take this the wrong way,” he’d been smirking, trying to hold in his laughter as she’d glared at him from the corners of her eyes. “But I think you’d better leave drawing to the professionals. If you’re that hellbent on having a portrait of me, perhaps you can commission a skilled artist.”

He remembered how she had snapped the book shut, stuffing it into her pack before he could get a second glance. “I thought it would be nice.”

“And darling it is nice. Well…” He’d sat beside her, trying to draw her into his lip, thinking surely she couldn’t stay mad at him if he cuddled her. “It’s a nice thought.”

She’d huffed, bottom lip popping out in a pout. She’d looked ready to run, or perhaps to smack him. But she’d done neither, although she had crossed her arms, leaning as far away as she could considering he’d been holding her.

“Perhaps once we’re done with all of this.” He’d gestured to the camp around them, to the general situation of the world potentially ending. “We can find you some drawing lessons.”

Her eyes had remained narrowed, and she’d turned away from him. “Well your options are that, or I could write a song, I suppose.” She’d relaxed against him then, some of her ire having ebbed away as the idea had struck her. “I’m not half bad at that, you know. Although I’d be verbally describing you, and I would include something about your smile lines.”

At the time, Astarion had huffed, even as that strange feeling of mirth had awoken in him at his words. It was true he’d prefer the most beautiful parts of him to be described and immortalized only, but what were songs but drawn out poems, romanticizing even the most mundane of things.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind a song written about me.” He’d mused, leaning his head to the side so it had rested against hers. “A long ballad about how wonderful I am, about all my exploits.”

She’d snorted, easing into his arms, toying with the strings dangling from the collar of his shirt. “Could I include a verse or two about how much I love you?”

“Oh darling, I would expect nothing less. I want to know just how much you adore me.” He’d nipped at her ear, earning a small squeak. “And about how marvellous a lover I am.”

She’d dissolved into a fit of giggles then, threatening him with the promise of really writing some lovesick song about him, as if that wouldn’t be something he’d have wanted terribly.

The rest of their conversation had devolved from there, Astarion growing needy for her touch, to feel her burning skin against his. And Aspen had been happy to oblige, had wanted to shower him with all her love as she’d let him lead her far from their camp, into the shadows of the woods where no one would hear them.

She’d murmured quiet questions in the shadows, her face illuminated by nothing more than the liquid moonlight pooling in the gaps between the leaves. She’d helped him to lie down, had sung sweetly to him between fiery kisses trailed over his skin as she’d undressed him slowly.

She’d been unskilled, ignorant of the ways of seduction when he’d first met her. And when he had first taken her, she had been entirely innocent, needing guidance to know what would make her feel good, what would make him feel good. But she’d been a quick study, and in that moment she’d unlaced his shirt with deft, nimble fingers before pushing it wide to trail her lips over his skin, knowing exactly the way to swirl her tongue around his nipples, to suck at his skin while he’d moaned.

Soon enough his shirt had been discarded, crumpled in a heap as she’d made her way down his torso with her mouth, one of her hands lightly stroking him until she’d reached the waist of his pants. They were gone in an instant, followed by her own clothes, having learned how much he enjoyed tracing his eyes over the curve of her body, watching the sway of her breasts as she knelt between his legs, trailing kisses along the inside of his thighs before drawing his cock into her mouth.

She’d made love to him so sweetly that night, bringing him to completion with her mouth first, swallowing his release before planting a loving kiss to his tip before moving on. She’d scattered kisses over his body once more, but he’d grown far too impatient, taking her face in his hands and bringing her lips to his, tasting himself on her tongue, aching terribly for the feel of her body around him.

All his instruction and guidance was turned against him then, for she had grown sly now that she knew how to make him feel best, how to coax music from his lips. He’d melted in her arms as she’d circled the pads of her thumbs around his nipples, as she’d reached a hand between his legs to stroke his cock, to squeeze his balls, to make him whimper as his mind grew hazy and blank but for the quiet way she murmured his name, telling him pretty he was, he much she loved him.

When finally she’d straddled his waist, hovering just above him, he’d been able to do nothing but grip her thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, covered in sweat and panting from previous releases. But she’d only teased him further, grinding against him before finally, finally drawing him slowly, inch by delicious inch, into her body. He’d been allowed a few moments of smug satisfaction as he’d felt how she’d clenched around him, Aspen just as needy for him as he’d been for her. Then she had moved, slowly at first, languorously. Asking him if he’d felt good, if it had been nice, if he could keep making such pretty sounds because she’d loved his voice.

She’d spent the entire night bringing him to the edge, again and again, letting him fill her body until his release spilled down the insides of her thighs, smearing across them both as she’d continued to move. She’d kissed him, over and over until their lips were both bruised, until they were both breathless, her hands stroking his sides or twining with his as she came along with him.

It had been like she’d been worshipping him, like he’d been her god and she a faithful supplicant at the altar of his body. Her words had been fragments of prayer, reverence in the way she murmured his name, adoration in the sweet words that fell from her lips like rain.

Devotion had been in every roll of her hips, in every shudder of her body as she’d came around him. Sweat had streaked down her face, pooling in the hollow of her throat, and still she had devoutly breathed sweet nothings, had given her body to him like a sacrifice.

She’d stroked his face, had played with his hair, promising him that there was nothing she’d wanted more, would ever want more, than his happiness. She’d described his expression of ecstasy like she’d been reciting passion-filled poetry, her fingers gentle even as they traced lines of fire over his jaw and his lips and the curve of his ears.

When, so lust-addled and drunk on her, his own personal goddess, he had asked her to sing her pretty words instead, she had obliged, promising that all she wanted was to bring him joy, to make him feel good, in every way he wanted.

When at last he had been so entirely spent that he’d been unable to make an intelligible sound but breathy moans she had finally stilled, kissing tears and sweat from his face until he had laughed. Strength had returned to him as languidly as the sun setting on a summer's evening, and as she’d kissed him he’d slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close, not wishing for even a breath to pass between their bodies.

She’d been happy to stay where she was, to keep her legs locked around his waist and cradle his head in her arms. He’d stayed buried deep inside of her until the sun had come up, until they’d tarried so long their companions would have certainly been looking for them.

The memory of that night, of how she made such sweet, gentle love to him, made his cheeks flush now, his breath coming in short gasps. Beside him, Aspen opened her eyes to regard him curiously, stirred to consciousness by his sudden ragged breathing.

“My love?” Her voice was heavy, thick and slow with sleep. “Is something the matter?”

There was such gentleness in her voice, such care, it nearly brought tears to his eyes. She was half asleep and still she wanted to care for him, wanted to wrap him in the softness of her love.

Perhaps he really would cry, because he was sure he did not deserve this love, as sure as he was that he would forever stay with her if she let him.

“It’s nothing, darling.” He turned his gaze back up to the stars, watching as their light glittered and danced like gemstones tossed skyward. “I was only thinking.”

She hummed, the sound vibrating through him like the beginnings of a song. Her voice was so pretty, and he could have sank into it like sailors falling for sirens at sea. He was no fool and would not be so easily tricked, but he loved her so entirely he would have followed her to a watery grave.

“Thinking of what, my love?” She splayed her hand across his chest, above where his heart beat a steady rhythm. It was strange, to be dead but to have a beating heart. It was not something he’d even noticed until her, until their lives had been inextricably tangled together.

But he did have a heart, beating, stumbling at times, reminding him that he was still alive in the ways that counted. That he could love, that he did love.

Astarion twined his fingers with hers, bringing her hand to his lips. She watched him with heavy lidded eyes, lashes fluttering as she tried and failed to keep her eyes open.

“Nothing much,” he murmured, staring at the stars. They really were bright tonight, as though the world were suddenly awash in light now that he was free. But not even the stars could compare to her, and although he’d turned his head to look up, his eyes wandered away from the jewel-encrusted night, fixed on Aspen as if she were the only thing in the world that was worth looking at.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Am not.”

She forced her eyes open, glowering at him. He couldn’t help but smile, having provoked her into waking. “You’re staring right at me.”

“I can’t help it,” he cooed. “You’re more brilliant than the stars. I look at you and I feel like I am standing in the sun, like I am truly alive.”

A tender smile curved across her lips, her eyes falling closed once more. “Would you like me to wax on about all the ways I love you? About the softness of your hair? The creases in your face when you smile? The rumble of your laughter in your chest?”

“I’d much rather you tell me how striking my eyes are, or how I look like I was sculpted to look like one of the gods,” he drawled, stroking her hair. “But I suppose if you are that fond of those other things you could make mention of them as well.”

Laughter flitted from her lips like butterflies taking flight. “I’ll take that into consideration. But truthfully, my love, there is much more to you than just your face, handsome though it may be.”

He held her closer, tighter. His heart fluttered like the wing-beats of a hummingbird, so warm from her body pressed against his that he could have been melting into her embrace. She was always reminding him that he was beautiful, although it was a fact he knew quite well, but then she would always remind him of other things she loved. The sound of his laugh, the handful of freckles scattered across his face and chest, the way he always turned his head towards the sun when it rose in the morning, the line between his brows when he was reading.

All things he would have cringed away from not that long ago, soft parts of himself he’d have rathered stayed buried in the dirt alongside whoever he’d used to be.

Perhaps it was the cadence of her voice, the musical way she listed off the parts of him that he had long considered faults in his facade of perfection. Perhaps it was the earnestness in her eyes, the way they shone and held his for the briefest of moments before flitting away as colour rose in her cheeks, as if she were overwhelmed with a feeling so strong she could hardly speak the words. Perhaps it was in the way she asked to hold his hand before she told him, how she nestled close when she did, how she had to be touching him in some way as if she couldn’t bear to be away from him.

Whatever it was, whatever magic she’d cast over his heart, had made him view himself differently. His imperfections were no longer hated, and he felt more secure in himself, in all the shards of who he was. He wasn’t just a pretty face, not to her, he was someone worthy of life, of love.

“Do go on,” he murmured into her ear, earning a delighted shiver for his efforts. “I’d love to know what else about me you adore.”

“Where would you like me to start?” Her laugh was more of a sigh, but it was infectious nonetheless, and he warmed as it reverberated through him.

The memory of the night she’d most recently sung praises for him surfaced in his mind. He tried holding her tighter as she dozed, murmuring words to him that were becoming more and more unintelligible as she drifted away. He rolled onto his side in an attempt to tuck her close, his eyes scanning the contours of her face, the line of her jaw, the softness of her lips. Her dark lashes fanned out across the tops of her cheeks, the corners of her lips quirking up as she made a contented sound, shifting closer.

Astarion had no practice in the art of writing or of music, but he was finding that there was no end to the parts of her that he loved. It was like he was falling in love with her a little more every moment, every day. There was always something new, something he hadn’t known before but that delighted him once he did. If he’d had the skill or the desire, he would surely be able to weave every little thing into a poem, perhaps a song.

Not that he was particularly keen on such an idea, but he ruminated on it for a few moments before discarding the notion as he trailed a finger down the side of her neck. She did not seem the type to desire songs and poetry of herself, always flushing so spectacularly when he breathed sweet nothings in her ear, her entire body trembling as if she might faint from such gentle words.

She never pushed him away or begged him to be quiet, but he’d noticed that when he was only trying to express simple affections, she seemed to respond better to his touch. She was always leaning towards him like a tree torn free from the earth, whether she realized it or not. Her face would brighten if their knuckles brushed when they stood together, her eyes turning to twin stars when he reached out to take her hand in his. She would nestle into his arms when she slept, trusting him to keep guard of them both, and she was forever accepting requests to hold him with her arms opened wide.

Perhaps it was not sweet words that he needed to use, but his touch.

Which was more than fine with him. Sometimes he felt as though his words rang hollow, did nothing to encompass the vastness of the warmth he cradled in his cold, undying body. He needed something else, something more. Not sex, no, but to hold her close, closer than he was holding her even now.

He would be lying if he said it was just for her. He was selfish, and he wanted her closer, needed it, more than air, more than blood. He felt like he would die all over again if he could not close the remaining space between them.

“My love,” he breathed the words quietly, stroking her throat, above the twin puncture marks that had scarred from the daily feedings she so willingly offered herself for.

“Mmmm?” Her lashes fluttered, but her eyes did not remain open for very long.

“Do you trust me, my love?” His heart beat an erratic melody, his fingers twitching. He had an idea in mind, but he wanted to make sure she was alright with it first.

She slurred her response, and when he prompted her to repeat herself she tilted her head back, peering at him through slitted eyes as she murmured “of course.”

Astarion traced his hands lower, grazing her thigh. “And you know I love you, don’t you?”

Her brow furrowed. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing terrible, my love.” He hesitated, his hand hovering on her leg. Since he had freed himself, since he had confessed the entirety of his shadowed heart to her and she had accepted him in full, he hadn’t been able to resist slipping into her bedroll each night. Not always for sex, not when he usually wanted some modicum of privacy for that and often spirited her far from their camp so their companions did not hear the sounds of her pleasure.

Aspen had long since grown more comfortable with him, in many ways, and at night she often discarded her trousers as she slept, wearing nothing but a long tunic that nearly reached her knees. It would be such an easy task to lift up the hem of her tunic, to stroke the sensitive flesh between her thighs until she was ready for him.

“Then trust me, love,” she murmured, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s nothing much, only…” He trailed off, deciding to start slowly, reaching beneath the hem of her tunic to stroke the plush skin of her inner thigh. “Is it alright if I continue?”

Aspen’s eyes snapped open, holding his for a long, long while, surveying his face in the dark. She was human, and he wasn’t sure how much she could make out in the shadows, even with the light of the fire flickering nearby. But whatever she saw seemed to appease her, and her eyes closed once more. “Yes, love, it is.”

He dragged his fingers higher, keeping his touch light.

“Do you want me to do anything? Would you like me to help with your clothes?” She moved her hands to his chest, her movements slow and muddled from sleep.

“No my darling.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I just want you to lie still and feel very good.”

“Are you certain? Are you truly sure, because I can-”

Astarion brought his lips to hers, cutting off her argument before she could finish it.

She was breathless as he broke away, and he couldn’t help but smile at how flustered he’d already made her. “I am very sure, darling. This is something that I want.”

“Okay.” Her voice was small, her hands gripping his shirt tight.

“Although I do need you to do something for me, pet.”

Fatigue must have been a powerful opponent, because Aspen fought to keep her eyes open for more than a moment at a time, even as she spoke. “Anything.”

He grinned. “Spread your legs a little wider for me.”

She did as she was asked, and Astarion sighed in contentment as he began stroking his fingers along the soft skin at the apex of her thighs. Slowly at first, although he would be lying if he said he did not move quicker as her breaths turned ragged, her lips parting so prettily for him. He circled her clit with a featherlight touch, then again, with more force. She moaned, leaning into him, and he felt his own body responding in kind, tension growing in his core, heat spreading through him.

Aspen writhed beside him, her neck arching, her chest heaving. Even in the dark he could make out the colour spreading across her cheeks, reaching below the collar of her tunic.

“I’m going to get rid of this now, okay?” He murmured next to her ear and she nodded furiously, lifting her arms to make it easier for him as he peeled it away from her body.

“Good girl,” he breathed, smug as she whimpered.

Her thighs twitched, her hips moving of their own accord, and it was with his other hand that he had to steady her, pressing her down so she could not move. “Hold still, darling. Didn’t I tell you I wanted you to lie still?”

Another whimper, a breathy please as she trembled.

He chuckled, drawing his hand away to lick his fingers clean. “I’ve hardly touched you, and you’re already a mess.”

“Astarion, please.”

“Yes, my darling?” He couldn’t help but tease her, only a little. It was so easy, especially now. She was still half-asleep, but every time her eyes fluttered open he saw her pupils, so dilated they looked fully black in the night. “Use your words. Tell me what you want.”

Aspen whined, grasping his arm with a grip like iron. Her words were breathless, broken up by little gasps as he stroked her. “You’re not being nice.”

He clicked his tongue, enjoying the sight of her squirming, of her struggle to remain quiet and still. “How could you say such a thing, darling? I’m very nice.” He flicked her clit as she whined, earning a soft whimper as her nails dug into his arm. “Well… I’m a little nice.”

Astarion did his best to keep his movements slow and even, coaxing her to the precipice of her climax without letting her fully descend into it. It was difficult, a feral part of his mind wanting to make her scream his name into the night, to bring her to release over and over until she was an absolute mess. But that was not his intention, not tonight, and he wanted to focus on something gentler, something much more tender.

He alternated between kissing any part of her skin his lips could reach and whispering softly into her ear, delighting in how she shivered in his arms when he did.

“Shh, not too loud, love,” he murmured, circling his fingers around her entrance. “We don’t want the others to hear.”

“Do you- Do you think they’ll catch us?” She was clutching his shirt so tightly he felt certain that it would tear.

“Not if you stay quiet,” he breathed, laughing at her stricken expression. “Don’t look at me like that. I just wanted you so terribly, pet.”

Aspen moaned again, his name a prayer on her lips. It made him ache so entirely he didn’t think he would be able to last for much longer. Her chest heaved, her breasts soft and inviting, and he distracted himself with them, drawing the bright pink nipples between his teeth, biting them as gently as he could until she was mewling, even his name sounding incoherent as it was caught by the wind.

“I want to be close to you,” he said, pressing his lips to the valley between her breasts, breathing in the smell of her skin, sweat and growing things and the subtlest hint of the oils and perfumes he used for himself.

Her arms snaked around him, scrabbling for purchase against his back, pulling the material of his shirt taut. “Then come closer.”

Drawing back, Astarion’s gaze fell on her face, on the deep blush that set her aflame, the heady desire in her eyes. There was something else there, too, something hidden in the depths of the need he was filling her with.

There was love in her eyes, in the curve of her smile, in the way she let out a soft breath as she met his gaze, one of her hands sliding up to bury in his hair.

It was bright as sunshine, as gentle as an embrace. His knees grew weak from it, his body trembling as she gazed up at him with such sweet adoration.

“I want to be close,” he breathed, fingers fumbling as he quickly discarded his shirt, and his trousers next, not wanting even the slightest scrap of fabric between them. He wanted nothing but her skin against his, her heart beating a furious tempo against his chest, her breath tickling the skin of his throat. He wanted there to be nothing, only her, only him. “I want to be buried inside of you, and I never want to come out.”

Her fingers ran through his hair, sketched along the shell of his ear. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t look away, spreading her legs a little wider. “I want that too.”

A lump formed in his throat, nearly choking him. He felt like a boy, like he was taking a tumble with the first person he’d ever fallen for. His heart was beating a discordant cacophony, unused to loving and being loved so entirely in kind. He felt vulnerable, his heart bared to her, but he felt no fear. He trusted her, trusted her to hold him, to love him, to keep his heart safe.

Never in all the years of his life that he remembered would Astarion have ever described himself as soft. But he felt soft now, felt like he was melting in her arms, his tenuous hold on himself fraying.

Here he was, falling apart in the face of a kind, softhearted woman, her arms open to him, her voice a murmur in his ear. This was not something he’d ever envisioned for himself, had never even considered. There was no room for softness in his world, no room for love.

Yet he had it still. He had her love; she’d entrusted her entire heart to him, her entire being. Were she not so warm in his arms, her shuddering breaths against his skin making him shudder, he would have mistaken this all for a dream.

“Astarion.” Her voice drew him back to the present, away from the churning tides of his thoughts. Anxiety had begun to bubble in his chest, fear that this truly was a dream, that it was some great trick of his mind and he would awake and be lost in the shadows once more.

But no, there was no way for his mind to conjure a voice such as hers. Hands caressing his face the way hers did, fingers twinning in his hair as she so often liked to do. He would never have been able to imagine such sweetness as this, not in his hundreds of years of life. So she must have been real; she had to be real.

“Astarion?” Sleep still clung to her, and she drawled his name, a smile on her lips. “My love, what are you thinking?”

He did his best to offer a devilish smile, although he knew he was failing spectacularly by the way Aspen’s brows drew together, the corners of her mouth twitching.

She wiggled her hips, gently rolling them against his, and he nearly choked in response, the ache in his core steadily growing. “Tell me,” she beseeched him, rolling her hips against his once more. “Please, my beloved? I want to know what’s going on in your head.”

There were a slew of things Astarion could have said to her in that moment, but with her wide eyes and her open expression, he couldn’t bring himself to say something sharp. He was well beyond feigning indifference now, having confessed to her before the grave his old self had been buried, having clung to her almost every night since, seeking the comfort and steadiness of her embrace, of her beating heart. And now, so desperate and needy for her touch he’d disposed of their clothing so he could feel nothing but her skin against his, so he could sink deep inside of her. So he could be held, so he could feel beloved and precious and safe.

“I was thinking of you,” he professed, his voice small as a child’s. He sounded like a lovestruck fool and yet he could do nothing to change it. “I can think of nothing else but you.”

“I’m right here,” she murmured, brushing his hair back from his brow. “I’m close, my love, I’m not going anywhere.”

“It is undoubtedly selfish of me…” He trailed off, trying again to grin. It was like second nature to him, to feign rakishness. But in this moment he really could not, no matter how hard he tried. How could a disciple, kneeling before his goddess, ever hope to be anything but devout, to give himself entirely with anything other that wholehearted sincerity? “But I want to stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled, and she spread her legs a little wider. “Oh my love, I want to be with you always. I want to be with you forever. If you’ll have me, of course.”

Astarion leaned down, brushing his lips against hers, a hunger more consuming than his desire for blood taking over. “Forever, then.”

“Forever,” she agreed, breathless from the kiss.

He didn’t give her much time to breathe, capturing her lips once more as he pushed her legs further apart. Aspen’s body complied with his needy demand, thighs shaking around his hips as he lined himself up, tip pressing against her entrance.

If there was one thing he knew he would never tire of, it would be the sounds she made as he pushed into her. The delicate whimpers, the way she sighed his name, a melody spun of spider silk and starlight, meant for only his ears.

Aspen shuddered, her body fluttering around him as he sank deeper. Her hands moved from his face to his shoulders, a delicious pressure that sent shocks of pleasure across his nerves, that made him want to move faster, to thrust with ruthless abandon into her. It took every last shred of his self control to keep his movements slow as she trembled in his arms, until a little gasp fell from her lips as his hips finally, mercifully, met hers.

“How’s that?” He murmured, pulling back just a little, just enough to sharply roll his hips against hers, earning another needy little gasp.

“You’re being mean again.” Her whine was breathy, her fingernails digging into his skin.

He shushed her. “Not at all, darling. I’m only enjoying those pretty sounds you’re making.”

She opened her mouth to whine once more, and he took the opportunity to capture her lips again, swallowing the sweet sounds she was making as he slid his tongue between her lips.

“Not too loud, though,” he teased, and the laughter that rang through the air was genuine, warm and earnest as she stared up at him, utterly dazed. “Those sounds are for me, and only me. I don’t want the others to hear.”

Aspen’s mouth snapped shut, her body trembling harder now, whether it was from the arousal he had woven with his touch or from the desire to smack him he wasn’t sure. It was adorable all the same, and he trailed a line of kisses from the corner of her lips to the hollow of her throat until her head fell back, her neck arching to allow him better access.

“While I appreciate the gesture, darling, I have something different in mind.” He couldn’t resist pressing a few more kisses to her throat despite his words, scraping his teeth against her skin so she knew just how badly he wanted the hot blood that pulsed in her veins.

She opened her mouth, closed it again, struggling to find her words.

“Take your time, my darling. I don’t plan to move anytime soon.” He had only planned to fill her body, to press himself as close to her as he could. He was still so desperate for her, and he feared he would never want to pull away, never want to move from her arms again.

Slowly, her grip on his shoulders began to loosen, her nails no longer digging deep enough into his skin to draw blood. Her lips were still parted, ragged breaths billowing into the air as she clung to him. For his part, he tried his best not to move, stroking her hair, the contours of her face, the gentle rise of her collarbone. Shudders still wracked through her body like the aftershocks of an earth-shattering quake, but they were becoming fewer and farther between.

“How’s that?” He murmured as she grew still. “Feeling better?”

A nod, her eyes dark as night as they found his. “What did you have in mind, my love?”

Hearing that sweet name of endearment on her lips, ‘my love,’ made him feel like he was fracturing. Her love, her love. He was entirely hers, and she was entirely his.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that,” he breathed, utterly lost in her words, in the fathomless depths of her eyes.

The pink of her lips reminded him of flower buds, a frivolous detail he never would have taken note of before, and yet as he drew the connection in his mind he felt the fractures growing, splintering into shards of crystalline glass, reflecting the sunlight that he had not gotten to feel for centuries. Every part of her was perfect, every part of her was so alive, so soft and flush with colour.

He did not have the words to describe it, and nor did he want to. There was an enchantment to it all, something delicate he did not wish to sully with saccharine words and overwrought lines. He only wanted to love her for as long as she would let him.

The corners of her lips quirked up in a small smile, her palms pressing against his shoulders and sliding down his arms. “What did I say?”

“That I’m your love.” His voice was small as a child’s, vulnerable. But he felt no fear, only a comforting warmth that curled around him like a second embrace. He was safe; here, he was safe. “That you love me.”

He was grateful for her patience, for the kindness that he had scoffed at when they’d first met. He couldn’t imagine someone being so patient, not with him, but he didn’t have to imagine. She just was, and she was patient for him, she was kind for him.

She was patient and kind for other people, but he chose to ignore that for now. It was different when she was looking at him.

“Of course I love you.” A breathy laugh fell from those sweet lips, and he was once more reminded of a flower, something beautiful and colourful. She looked at him like he was her sun, even if he was doomed to be veiled in shadows for eternity. “I love you so much.”

He chuckled. “So much?”

“Yes!” She drew the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. “More than I have the words to say.”

“And I love you,” he breathed, because he could not stop saying it. He had said it once truthfully, and now he could not stop, doubted he would ever be able to stop. “I love you Aspen, my beloved, with all of me.”

There were no other words that he could find that would even come close to describing the depth of his emotions, but he was thankful that she did not seem to need it. That those simple words were enough, that the embrace he held her in was enough for her.

“You never answered my question, love,” she said after a moment, the starlight reflecting in her eyes.

He frowned. “What question?”

“What did you have in mind? For right now?” She traced her fingertip over the curve of his ear, tugging lightly at the sharp point.

“Well, my darling…” He trailed off, covering her hand with his. “I had… That is…” He trailed off, struggling to find the right way to explain it.

It should have been easy. He wanted her, he wanted to be close to her. He craved her nearness, not sensually, just to be close. He wanted to crawl into her skin, he wanted to be held so tightly by her that they would never be parted.

He was quickly learning that it was much easier to yearn, to want, and so much harder to give those feelings form with his words.

Aspen remained quiet as he mulled over what he wanted to say. She ran her hands up and down his arms, reaching up to play with his hair, twisting curls around and around her fingers, dragging her fingers across his scalp like a massage.

Finally the words came to him, falling from his lips like a confession. “I just want to be close to you. I want to stay like this, in your arms.” He hesitated, feeling helpless as she watched him, with nothing but the shine of the stars to illuminate her face. “For as long as you’ll allow me.”

“Then we can stay like this, my love.” Her arms wrapped around his neck, hands pressing against the back of his head as she gently drew him close. “We can stay just like this for as long as you’d like.”

“Really?” He could scarcely believe it, even as she tucked his head beneath her chin. His cheek was cushioned against her breast, the steady pulse of her heart echoing through him.

“Really.” She rubbed circles against his back, her hand gliding up to tangle in his hair before sliding back down along his spine. “I love being close to you, too.”

A familiar wave of uncertainty made his belly clench, and he couldn’t help but hazard a look back at her. “Are you sure? There is nothing else you want?”

Her fingertips drummed against his back as she hummed, face scrunching up as she feigned contemplation. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a nice pastry and a coffee. I hear there are some delightful places in the city.”

He snorted. “That’s it?”

“I wouldn’t mind a new book when all this is over. I think I’m going to need a few quiet days to recover.”

Astarion scraped his teeth against her skin, earning a yelp.

“You asked!” She hissed. “I was only telling you of some things I wanted.”

“Forgive me, love,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to the bite. “I’d meant are you sure there is nothing else you want in this moment?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she began, fingers dancing along the nape of his neck. “Can I kiss you?”

The tension that had been clutching his stomach with an iron-grip fell away, replaced by the feeling of a thousand gauzy wings fluttering within his stomach and his chest. They flitted idly between his ribs, perching on his bones, sending ripples through the oceans in his veins, like waves and tides.

“Please.”

Aspen brought her lips to his brow, smoothing his hair back as she kissed him. Gentle, soft as a feather brushed against his skin. Her breath fanned across his brow, her lashes tickling him as her eyes fell closed.

He reached up, his hand cupping the back of her head. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, only…” His words came out in a breathless rush. “Could you do that again?”

Another kiss to his forehead, just as soft and sweet as the first. “Like this?”

“Perhaps you should try that again, darling,” he drawled, smiling against her skin. “I’m not sure if you got it quite right.”

Aspen tsked softly, but she kissed him again. And again. And then her hands were reaching up to grasp his face, to tip it up towards her as she pressed kisses all over his face, from his brow to his cheeks to the tip of his nose, no part of him was safe from her affections.

She kissed him until he was quivering with laughter, struggling to keep it in, lest they wake their companions.

“Aspen,” he hissed, although he was smiling so widely his face hurt, bubbles of laughter nearly choking out his words.

“I can’t help it!” She sighed, giving him her best pout as she tucked him back against her chest. “I just love you, and I just get overwhelmed by it. I want you to know that I love you.”

As his laughter slowly melted away he began to relax in her arms once more, a small smile still lingering on his lips. He rolled his hips in revenge for her making him laugh, earning a sharp gasp. “I know you do. Everything you do shows me how much you adore me, my darling.”

He expected a stuttering response, her words to turn to nonsense as they were prone to do when he teased her. But she only smiled at him wickedly, her touch still gentle as a breeze rustling through his hair. “I do. And I know just as well how you, my beloved, love me dearly.”

It was Astarion who ended up struggling to find a response, his tongue heavy in his mouth, his words nothing but stammering nonsense. He opened his mouth, floundering like a beached fish.

“Am I wrong?” She teased, mussing his hair. “Have I assumed incorrectly?”

“No, my darling,” he gasped, his words spilling like a flood. In the back of his mind he questioned who he was becoming, this soft-hearted, blathering, lovesick fool who could not even string together a coherent sentence as she held his gaze. Surely he could not be the same person as he was when they had first met, roguish and clever and sharp-tongued.

Although then again, maybe he didn’t want to be that person anymore. Maybe he wanted to be someone different, maybe he wanted to be himself, whoever that person was.

It would take him a long while to figure that out, and perhaps it would change every day, but he did know one thing that would forever be unchanging, one thing he wanted to be more than anything. He wanted to be cared for and loved, he wanted to be hers.

“I care for you, more than anything,” he admitted, the words still falling free before he could think them through. “I love you more than I thought I could ever love. That’s the truth, I swear it.”

He was holding her so tightly his fingers had dug into the soft skin at her waist. He loosened his grip, smoothing his palms over the crescent moon indents he had left in his wake. “I know I’ve lied when I’ve said those words before, but I mean it. I feel like I am alive, truly, in a way I never was, even before.”

She remained quiet, playing with his hair, watching him with a little smile. Starlight shone in her eyes, or maybe it wasn’t starlight. Maybe the stars were only reflecting her light back from the skies.

The final words he spoke were little more than a breath, stolen away by the quiet keen of the midnight wind. “I love you.”

Aspen’s eyes glowed all the brighter, silver pooling at their edges. “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

He scoffed, although his heart wasn’t in it.

She didn’t seem to mind, her touch so loving as she slid her hands from his hair, stroking his neck and back. “I’ll try to be worthy of your love.”

He held her tighter, burying his face in the valley between her breasts once more so she could not see his blush. “Just keep holding me. Keep holding me and don’t let go.”

“I can definitely do that.” He felt her cheek pressing against the top of his head, her breath tangling in his hair. “I’ll hold you for as long as you want.”

Although he could not sleep, not the way Aspen did, Astarion still closed his eyes. Nestled safely against her, he let his mind wander. He no longer bothered to look at the stars, did not even think of them. He knew that even if he were cursed to live amongst the shadows once more, there would still be light. Aspen would be there with him, brighter than any star, brighter than even the sun.

She would keep him close, hold him tight whenever he needed it, and whenever she wanted to be close too. And in her arms, he was finally free, he was finally home.

#astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #honey the sweeter the sun

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collapsedglasshouses · 7 months

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An Angel for Noah || Noah Sebastian x OC [Part 1]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Jules (she/her)

SUMMARY: When Jules finds herself assigned to be a rockstar's guardian angel, she couldn't be more overwhelmed.

WARNINGS: ANGST (LIKE A LOT), talks about death and grief, talks about mental health issues, talks about religion, swearing, … (each chapter is going to have individual content warning, if I forget something pls let me know)

A/N: Hello! I'm back with a new series. I’m not religious at all but I wanted to do something like this because it spooked in my head for years but I never found a fitting story line. Also this was my way to tribute Keaton Pierce, whose music I loved and whose death still makes me so incredibly sad. So this fanfic is dedicated to Keaton and therefore very dear to me.

Keep in mind, this takes place in an alternative universe. Even though I write about real people, the way I write them has nothing to do with how they are in real life.

If you wanna be added to the tag list, please let me know in the comments or DM me.

When her alarm rang at 6 AM, Jules was everything but pleased. The weekend had been way to short and the gravity of life slowly began to hang on her shoulders again. Sometimes she couldn't believe how stressed she was at such a young age.

She was twenty-two years old, a music student at Juilliard and literally all the pride and joy of her family. Being an only child of a couple who wished to have children for years, made it very clear that Jules was going to have everything she needed in life.

So when she crawled out of her bed and made her way into her bathroom, she reminded herself of how proud her parents were always going to be.

When she looked at the clock again, she realised she was running late, so she quickly grabbed her coat and scarf, before heading to the front door, where she reached for her backpack and keys.

Not even five minutes later she ran out of the apartment building and looked from left to right. Quickly she started to walk in the direction of her university. She knew she couldn't be late again. It was only weeks before a very big performance with the school orchestra and this semester she finally got the opportunity to play one of the first violins.

When she reached one of the big crossroads, she quickly glanced at the green traffic light and than back at her phone, ready to dial her best friend's number to inform her about her possibly being late.

But she hadn't had the time for that, because the next thing she knew was a sharp pain in her whole left side and than a hit on her head.

When she woke up again, her head rang. The room she was in, was so bright that her eyes just couldn't adjust to it. It took her several minutes to finally realise where she was. She was laying in a hospital bed. Or was she even laying? She just noticed her parents in front of her. Eagerly Jules tried to remember what had happened but she just couldn't put the pieces together.

"Mom?" She asked weakly but couldn't hear anything except her mother's muffled cries.

Jules felt so different. She could remember the immense pain she had right before she was here but she just couldn't think of the thing that made her feel like that. When she tried to get up, it was easier than she thought. Everything just felt so light and easy.

She sat at the edge of her hospital bed, when she realised that she had no cables attached to her. Why was she even here, when she wasn't even in pain?

"Mom? Dad?" She said again but again her parents didn't answer her.

She sighed before standing up and turning to the bed, when it hit her just like the vehicle earlier this morning.

Why was she still laying in that hospital bed?

Jules's gaze wondered between her parents and herself. Her parents were crying. Her mom almost crumbled in her father's arms, while he tried to hold himself together.

When she looked back at herself in that hospital bed, she just couldn't believe it. She looked awful. Her hair was tangled and a bandage was wrapped around her head. She couldn't even recognize herself anymore. There was no color on her except the blood sticking on her forehead and neck. When Jules noticed that even on her other self no cables were attached, it really hit her.

She was dead.

Her parents cried because they lost the only child they had. The child they loved more than anything. And only because she was looking at her damn phone.

"The driver is still alive." She heard a familiar voice behind her and jumped a little. When she turned, an older man stood at the door of the hospital room and she instantly recognized him.

"Grandpa?" She asked the man in front of her and couldn't believe her eyes. He stood there like she remembered him. Very colorful and satisfied.

"The driver is still alive. A single mother. She also looked at her phone and didn't realize she drove over a red traffic light." He explained and stepped next to his granddaughter.

Jules didn't know what to say so she just looked at her parents again, who couldn't bear to leave her side.

"What now?" She asked her grandpa, who put an arm around her.

"Now begins your new forever, my dear." He answered her softly before guiding her away from the bed. Jules realised she had began to cry. Everything in her wanted to go back inside her body. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to leave her parents.

"Five more minutes." - "Jules, you know it wouldn't be just five minutes."

Her sobs became more hysterical. "I can't go, grandpa. I can't leave them."

Jules closed her eyes for a couple of seconds and tried to contain her cries but when she opened her eyes again, she was in a white room. Confused she looked around her while her tears ran down her face. Her grandpa was gone. Everything around her was just white.

"No!" She screamed and tried to run in one direction to get back to her parents but soon her head was met with a transparent wall. She fell to the white ground and held her head in reflex. She couldn't even feel the impact. In fact she couldn't feel any of the things that happened to her. No head injury, no pain at all.

"Let me out! I NEED TO GO HOME!" She yelled with so much anger and sadness in her voice that she knew she would have had a sore throat if she hadn't been dead and therefore numb already.

"Fuck." She swore and ran a hand over her face. This couldn't be real, this was all just an obscure dream of hers. She would be woken up by her alarm in a couple of minutes and she would go to university and she would drink a coffee with her best friend Meghan after classes and than she would call her parents and talk to her mom for hours, like she always did. "Fucking hell!"

"In fact, it is not." A voice suddenly said, causing Jules to get up from the floor and look around the white room. There was a man she didn't recognise at first, but when she got closer she got even more confused.

"Aren't I supposed to be dead? Why the hell do you look like Oli Sykes?" She asked the person in front of her. He laughed.

"No worries, darling. Oliver is pretty much alive." The man exclaimed while Jules eyed the guy closely. There was literally no doubt, he looked like Oli.

"Then why the fuck do you look like him?" - "Oh, yeah... I'm an angel... You know... Heaven and shit." - "I don't believe in god and that doesn't explain your appearance."

"That is kinda rude, Julliett." The man walked through the empty white room and looked around before his gaze landed on her again. "You may know about angel appearances. We normally don't look very human-like. So we got the regulation to turn into someone our new angel trainee wouldn't be scared of... And since I know about the dirty little fanfiction you read when you thought you were alone, I thought I would make myself attractive to you."

Jules mouth fell open. Did an fucking angel just out call her and her taste in fiction?

Her cheeks must have been a dark red tone, because the Oli look-a-like cleared his throat and began to talk again, "No worries, I wasn't the one who was spying on you. That was own your guardian angel."

Jules couldn't even talk. She hadn't even had the time to process her passing and now some Oli Sykes guy tried to tell her something about heaven and guardian angels.

"I know this is a lot, so imma just talk you through it. I'm just here because your guardian angel is a very busy one... You know... Sometimes not enough people are fitted to become guardian angels and than our workers need to protect more than one person and than things get messy... That's actually why you aren't playing your violin at the moment... BUT... To his defense, he really has some difficult people to watch over and that is where you come into the game." 'Oli' told her, while her mouth still stood slightly open. She knew if she would have been alive right now she would have drank herself into a coma.

"And who is my guardian angel? And where the fuck did my grandpa go?" Jules finally asked.

"Your grandpa his back at his well deserved rest. He just wanted to make sure you got here and wouldn't freak out." - "But I AM freaking out right now." - "Well, you are stuck with us so no need to panic." - "How kind of you."

"To your other question. You guardian angel will be here any minute." 'Oli' explained and with that there was a door banging shut and a stressed man appeared in the nothingness this room was.

"I'm so sorry... I couldn't make it earlier." A man stumbled into the room. He had blonde hair and soft face features. His nose was decorated with a nostril and he wore a band shirt and a black jeans. He instantly made Jules feel comfortable.

"Jules!" The guy exclaimed happily and gifted her one of the most heart-warming smiles she ever received. Immediately she recognized the feeling she had in her stomach right now. She felt it pretty often over the last couple of months. Was it him? Did she always feel it when he was near?

"I'm Keaton... Your guardian angel." He introduced himself to her and she felt herself began to smile. She liked that name.

"I know this is all very confusing. I do remember being in your position pretty well." He instantly started to explain and Jules noticed how his smile turned sad for a moment. He hadn't been here for long. "They are very picky about their guardian angels, so consider yourself lucky to be part of the team." He joked, before looking at the Oli-angel.

"You can go if you want, I'll take care of her." Keaton told the angel and with a last examining look, Oli smiled a little and than disappeared into thin air.

For a couple of seconds Keaton looked like he didn't know what exactly he wanted to say, so Jules decided to take the lead. "I just wanted to thank you for helping me. The Oli look-a-like told me you were really busy with watching over us all... You did your best. I felt protected... You couldn't save me from being dumb and looking at my phone."

Keaton looked surprised by her statement, blinking a couple of seconds before talking. "Thank you. That means a lot to me... I feel really guilty though... You were literally just an adult and now... You are here."

Jules shrugged her shoulders and gave him a reassuring look. "So? Guardian angel? What am I going to do?"

Keaton reached out to grab Jules's hand and before she knew she sat on a bench near a forest. The scenery was beautiful. The sky slowly turned into red tones while the cold wind blew around her face. She wasn't cold, but she felt everything.

"I wasn't really fond of this whole Heaven thing myself... But they really except every opinion. If you don't believe in god, it's fine. If you do, it is also fine. They usually don't have anything to do with this whole thing anyways." Keaton started to explain. "You will be assigned a person, you will guide over."

"And how exactly do I do that?" - "That is yours to find out."

Jules looked at him confused.

"You will find your ways. The only things I can tell you are: You protect them. You need to guide them. You need to prevent them from making mistakes. If you fail, they fail. If you succeed, they will thrive." Keaton explained and Jules didn't know what to say, so she just nodded confused.

"They asked me to assign you someone. You always get to watch over someone that matches you and your energy. It will be easy. Really. I got the opportunity to watch over my friends. My best friends to be exact." He explained further. "So I am more than honored to tell you, you were the first person I was assigned that I didn't already know when I was alive and it was such a fun experience seeing how a twenty-two year old reminded me so much of myself when I was younger."

Jules eyes turned a bit glossy. Seeing Keaton talk about his past and everything, made her so honored and sad at the same time. They were just two souls that were took way to early.

"So, I'm literally going to be the one to support you by taking over some of your duties?" Jules asked interested, nearly forgetting the fact, that she died not even 24 hours earlier. Keaton nodded.

"But since I know you, I decided to give you just one task." Keaton than explained, "It is something I trust you with and I just know, you are going to be the right person for it."

Jules gestured for him to continue talking.

"You need to watch over my friend Noah for me."

PART TWO HERE.

#bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #collapsedglasshouseswrites #bad omens rpf

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dibschair · 2 years

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𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟚: Day 8

ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕥: Creampie w/ Danny Johnson (Ghostface)

CW: Unprotected sex, Slight somo, dirty pictures, over stimulation.

Minors DNI

A click and a flash rouse you from your sleep, followed closely by the sound of a Polaroid spitting out a photo.

You feel the delicate piece of plastic land on your exposed hip before it flutters somewhere down on the bed. The familiarity makes you smile inward, this is just so like Danny.

A new weight on the bed causes you to shift. Your eyes finally opening once you feel the familiar leather of Danny's gloves gliding up your legs.

"Lemme sleep, Danny!" You whine eyes straining in the dark in search of his face. Your half asleep mind struggling to keep up.

"No can do doll.." Danny whispers from somewhere to your left. His hands stilling at the apex of your thighs, gloved fingers pressing firmly against your clothed clit.

Your hips instinctively grind against him a despreat whine passing through your lips. And in that moment you really wish you could see him.

Danny tsks above you but his hand doesn't move, no he begins rubbing youin tight firm circles.

"You know I almost wished you wouldn't wake up.." he chuckles his weight shifting on the bed to find a better angle for his teasing.

You gasp as his fingers slip past the thin fabric of your panties to delve into your already wet pussy. Danny fucks his gloved fingers into you for another moment bring you straight to the edge of orgasm just to pull out.

"The pictures always turn out so nice. You body completely fucked out on my cock pussy dripping with my cum, all while you sleep absolutely none the wiser.." Danny's voice is dark as he recalls the countless times he's 'visited' your room late at night.

You're only half paying attention of course, too busy with reaching out blindly for him in the darkness. Your hand makes contact with something firm and wide, it takes your sleepy mind half a second longer to realize that it's Danny's thigh.

There's a bark of a laugh above you and a gloved had grips your wrist.

"What's wrong doll? Want me fill your pussy up like I always do?" Danny's mocks his fingers flexing around your wrist.

"Yes please Danny, I want you to cum inside me. Please, I'll be so good." Your voice I weak, rather it's from the lost orgasm or sleep your not sure.

Danny let's go of your wrist as he stands from the bed, causing your body to shift slightly.

"I'm gonna get so many fucking pictures!" His voice is almost a touch too excited for the situation at hand, but you can't bring yourself to care. Especially when the distinct sound of a zipper cuts through the quiet.

Your panties are off in an instant as Danny fits himself between your legs, slowly rubbing the head of his cock along your folds.

"Get your tits out for me sweetheart."

You immediately obey, hands grasping the material of your tank top and tugging down. Causing your breasts to pop out from the neckline, nipples harding once they meet the cool air.

Not that Danny can see them exactly, but oh well they'll look good in the pictures.

Danny's cock drives into you with no warning, making you gasp and grip the sheets.

You can practically hear the sadistic grin on his face when he next speaks.

"Just relaxe and take it all doll, take it all..."

The pace he sets is teetering on brutal, his lean hips snapping against you as he fucks you rapidly, eliciting gasps and down right pornographic moans from your mouth.

Danny shifts to drive himself deeper into you and the teeth from his zipper bite into your thighs. It's in that moment you realize he hadn't undressed all the way.

Danny pulls all the way out till just the very tip was still inside your aching pussy, you feel his hands grope around the bed besides your joined bodies.

Just as you're about to beg him to get on with fucking you he slams back in, and a flash lights the room for a brief second.

"Shit! Fuck, Danny!" You wail as he sets back to his earlier pace. Only now there's the added click and flash of his camera every few thrusts. Sometimes aimed at your face or sometimes down towards your cunt. Capturing the sight of his cock inside you.

The incessant Click. FLASH. Click. FLASH. Combined with the feeling of his dick dragging consistently against your G-spot and the bite of his zipper sends you into a state of over stimulated bliss. Before you know it you're back is arching of the bed while your orgasm rattles your body.

Click. FLASH.

"Now that's gonna be a cute one." Danny remarks though his thrusts never still.

You smile sleepily at the praise, not even minding the spots in your vision from the flashing lights or the feeling of pointy poloarid pictures littering your bed.

All too content to let Danny use you to chase his own high.

Which he is all too keen to do, his pace faults after another few blissful moments. And just like that Danny is cumming inside you just as you had asked.

He huffs and puffs with his orgasm, shooting warm rope after warm rope into you. He pulls out almost immediately after he's done, the bed creaking as he sits back on his heels. You can feel his cum already leaking out of your abused hole.

He levels the Polaroid with you pussy.

Click. FLASH.

A/N: I took yesterday off so I wanted to make this one a bit longer for yall. I'm not completely happy with it, but I am my worst critic lol. Also I tried new formatting I hope mobil doesn't kill it lol

#slasher x reader #dead by daylight x reader #ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #kinktober 2022

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nights-flying-fox · 27 days

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Hopelessly Surviving

Chapter 1 (AKA Prologue): Ghosty Leo and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Resurrection

They saved Leo, but it was too late. As the family was still not accepting what happened, hours later Draxum shows up, and somehow he has the help they need. Now Leo is back to life, but something is different. Something is wrong and Leo has to figure out what is true and what is not to win this battle (with the help of his family). ☾ Updates every Sunday. ☾

Word Count: 1614 ☆ Fandom: rottmnt ☆ Warnings: temporary character death, if there is anything else i should tag please tell me ☆ AO3 Link: Here!! ☆ Next Chapter: here

Welcome to the Prologue everyone <33 Hope you like it!! Shoutout to @little-banjo-frog for helping me with this chapter (and the titles)!!!! You are the amazing my dude!!!

...

Gasp.

Leo shot up as he took a strong breath and wheezed, feeling the pain strong all over his body. His legs were hurting, his shell was thumping, he still could feel the hold on his throat... but the worst of them was the one he felt on his plastron. The one that was so sudden and painful, and he was sure Krang Prime had taken out his heart or something. He was sure he had died.

But now he was alive.

And the world- no, Prison Dimension- was blurry and he barely could hear anything (not that there was much except Krang's growls).

And yet, he almost could hear more over the sound of his fast beating heart. The coldness of the floor wasn't the rocks he felt every time he was thrown on, but something different. Familiar. Something was off here.

He blinked, trying to calm down. Trying to ignore the memories that belonged to the moment right before he blacked out. The red light and the sound of the metal suit.

Something touched him, and he immediately tried to get away. He tried to get on his feet, at least make enough force to be able to leap back or float away. Instead he felt gravity pull him down and he was met with the floor again, this time rougher and colder. …What?

He blinked again, trying to focus. Whatever he was against, he couldn't escape if he was acting without the knowledge of his surroundings.

The voices kept calling. There was something- no, someone in front of him. Then he noticed the green and red.

Leo froze. He knew those colors. Comforting, safe... It couldn't be. There was no way. But... what if... Leo swallowed, "Raph?"

His vision hadn't cleared fully, but he still could see the wide smile on his face. He said something (and Leo knew it was his name even though all he heard was muffled nonsense), and then pulled him into a tight hug.

Less than in seconds, he was surrounded by many. Everyone hugged him, holding him. And he knew all of them. He recognized all of these colors and knew the warmth and... and...

"Am I hallucinating?" He asked quietly. A muffled murmur answered. Leo didn't know what they said. He decided to ask another question, half joking, "Or am I in heaven?"

As things got less and less blurry, Leo now could see the way they looked at him once he asked it. Their voices had gone quiet too. Just when they were becoming clear, all the muffled left itself to a faint ringing.

Then he was met with Donnie, his hands holding Leo's face. "You're fucking alive, that's what you are." He said, and Leo saw the tears on his face.

"You're home, Leo." Raph added. Leo noticed his hand was on his shoulder, holding him with care.

He stared at them for a few seconds, trying to progress the words he just heard. Alive and home? Sounded too good to be true, but also... There was no gravity in the Prison Dimension. He wouldn't be able to imagine this warmness even if he wished to.

He looked at them again. It was them, and they looked at him with the most hopeful, strong and yet vulnerable eyes. Just like how Raph had when he almost fell down from that building. Huh, that felt like irony. He had once again ended up falling and yet was saved by his loved ones.

And they were here. They were okay, and with him. They held him. Safe.

This was real. Leo looked at all of them- everyone in his family- one by one. His brothers, April, dad... Of course. Of course they had saved him. He believed they would after all, didn't he?

Finally he responded, "Holy shit."

"Holy shit?" Raph repeated with a laugh. "You got through all this and just say 'Holy shit'?"

"Hey, I got caught unprepared and unconscious, you can't blame a guy for taking time to process he was saved while he was out of it!" Leo said back, and even though it sounded like he was complaining he was grinning and he could feel the tears forming. He was safe, he was with them!

Suddenly there was quiet. A quiet that he didn't like. Something was wrong.

"What, it wasn't you who saved me?" He took a guess. He didn't want to think of the possibility of anything worse happening.

"Uh, Leo..." Raph began, but he failed to continue his sentence.

"What?" Leo asked. He was getting impatient, and the grip of anxiety since he woke up wasn't helping.

"You weren't... ya know... unconscious." Raph struggled, but managed to find the words.

But Leo didn't understand. "What do you mean?" He questioned, getting more nervous. It didn't make any sense. “What was I then?”

There was a moment of quiet, and Leo was about to ask again when Donnie spoke : “Dead.”

“Donnie!”

Everyone turned to him with various faces of glares and a 'Donnie, what the heck?'. But Leo didn't care about them. "Dead?" He repeated. "Didn't you just say I was alive? Are we really sure this is real?" He laughed nervously, because it started to feel like a fever dream.

April sighed, "What he means is when we found you you were, well, dead. But Draxum found a way to bring you back." She explained. Then cringed, "Saying it out loud really doesn't make it any better."

"Draxum?" Leo repeated, and he was doing this a lot lately, didn't he? But he couldn't help it when nothing made sense. "Bring me back? I'm sorry, I'm not following what you're saying." The grip tightened and he felt sick.

"Maybe we should've taken this slower." Mikey interrupted.

"And give him some space guys." April added turning around him. Leo was glad, because as much as he liked getting a hug from his family, right now everything started feeling a bit too much.

“Leo, it's okay.” She talked to him in her gentlest tone he had ever heard. “Do you need some time and space?”

He didn't answer, instead he asked again. "I... I died?" He was feeling stupid for asking what he has been told many times now but he still couldn't understand. He didn't understand anything. "Guys- what- this doesn't make any sense."

And then there was the quiet again. He hated the quiet.

Luckily, none other than his dad knew that better. "Blue, my son. We can explain everything in detail. Well, maybe Draxum could do that better than us," He glanced towards the yokai on the side of the room. Leo hadn't noticed he was watching them the whole time. Heck, he was just now noticing Casey Jr. was in the room (they were in his room!) and was avoiding eye contact. Splinter held his hand gently. "But this can happen later. Now you need to calm down and rest."

Leo looked at him, his concerned eyes looking back at him. Then to the others. Okay. Okay he could figure out this later. As long as he wasn't in Prison Dimension it was okay. As long as he had his family with him it was okay. As long as they were okay, it was okay. He didn't have to worry himself with this, nor should worry anyone else. He nodded, "Yeah..." He said, then forced a smile. "Who cares as long as I'm back here anyways. Now tell me how in the name of the Pizza Supreme in the Sky you got me out of there, because what the heck!"

"Now that's the spirit baby!" Mikey cheered.

Leo opened his arms again, and his family once again were hugging him tightly. Leo looked at Casey Jr, who still was avoiding looking at him. "You too, Casey." Leo called. “Come on!”

Casey blinked in surprise, then smiled genuinely and joined them. Leo shared that genuine smile as well as he let himself surrounded by the hugs of his family.

“How does your bed not break?” Casey Jr. asked after a beat, clear that his curiosity won.

“Genius Built.” Donnie answered proudly.

“Oh no, here we go again.” Leo rolled his eyes. “I get out of Prison Dimension and immediately have to hear Donnie infodump.”

“You cannot hide your amusement from your face, you little liar.” Donnie replied with a smirk. “Weak.”

“Says the one who's been crying the whole time.” Leo retorded with his own smirk.

“Cut it you two,” Raph huffed. Then he smiled albeit a bit evilly, “Everyone knows both of you are idiots.”

“Gasp!”

“Betrayal by my very own brother!”

“Ah, there is the family I know.” April sighed happily.

“You all are so weird.” Draxum commented, his frown not changing a bit. “But I guess it is good to see you being like yourselves again.”

“Aww I knew you loved us!” Mikey exclaimed.

“Tolerate would be the proper word.” He corrected.

“He definitely loves us.” Mikey hummed.

“Sure, Angelo.” Leo said sarcastically. But a part of him believed him, or at least the possibility of the yokai warming up to them. All of them. If what everyone told him was true and all… But who cared about any of that now.

Yeah. It was fine as long as he was with them. As long as he was safe.

“Oh, and by the way, since you wanted to know,” Mikey leaned towards Leo's face. As he pushed down Donnie with hands, he took all of Leo's viewpoint with his face right in front of him. “I opened a portal to the Prison Dimension.”

“Huh?”

He raised his hands, “With theseeee!”

“You did what?!”

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