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aerynwrites · 7 months

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Unexpected, But Not Unwelcome

Gale Dekarios x afab!Reader/Tav

A/N: based on this request - god I literally wrote this the second that I got it lol. Gale was the perfect one to write this request for imo and it was such a pleasure!

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: pregnant reader, slight angst, pregnancy, fluff.

The longer you’ve lived in Waterdeep the more you start to understand why the balcony outside the study is Gales' chosen spot in his tower.

You still remember the slight shock you felt when you first arrived to see the space was exactly like the illusion he showed you all those months ago.

Now it’s also become your place of solace, much to the wizards delight.

“Views like this are much better enjoyed with company. And I couldn’t wish for a better half to spend it with.”

The balcony is swathed in deep orange light, the sun slowly creeping towards the horizon, the bottom just barely kissing the edge of sea way out in the distance. Her fading rays dance along the calm bay waters, the only disturbance to its surface being the few ships leaving or entering port.

‘What do they carry?’ you wonder.

Fine silks and clothing? Or perhaps rare spices from across the world. It’s a game you find yourself playing more often than not whenever you sit out here. But now…

Now it’s all you can do to try and focus on the ships, your mind constantly flitting back to the news you were given earlier in the day.

You’d missed your monthly cycle a few weeks back, and while it wasn’t immediately alarming, that along with other symptoms finally made you decided to seek out a healer.

Gale had told you of his plans to spend the day at Sorcerers Sundries, looking for a specific tome for research he was working on. So, today was the perfect day to slip away unnoticed. You didn’t want to worry your husband unnecessarily, but now you want nothing more than for him to be home, the news eating away at you.

You’re pregnant.

It’s honestly nothing you’ve ever truly thought about. Before the tadpoles, you’d been alone, just living day to day in Baldur’s Gate. Then of course the whole tadpole incident happened and then…you met Gale and fell in love and started to build a life with him here, in Waterdeep.

You’re honestly surprised the topic never came up. But now, with it staring you in the face…a sense of uncertainty settles deep in your belly.

Tara noticed immediately of course, aware of your unusual quietness as you retreated to the balcony as soon as you got home. You’d found yourself spilling the news to the intelligent cat as soon as she asked, her deep eyes softening ever so slightly as she jumped in your lap and curled up.

You couldn’t help but sense a wave of excitement coming from her, though. A sense that somewhat calmed you despite the nerves running wild in your mind.

That was a few hours ago, Tara hasn’t moved from her spot, lounging peacefully as you stroked her fur and watch the ships glide across the water.

Only the very distant sound of the tower door opening and closing, and Gales faint greeting finally pulls you from your thoughts, that anxiety creeping back in full force as you tense.

Tara sits up as well, stretching and letting out an enviable yawn. You wish you could be that relaxed.

“Relax, dear,” Tara says gently, nuzzling your hand before turning to jump from your lap. “I feel you have nothing to be worried about.”

She turned and pads towards the inside of the tower just as Gale appears in the archway, stopping to offer her a welcoming scratch before she disappears.

He sends you a warm smile as he rights himself, approaching and taking a seat next to you on the padded bench, arm wrapping around your waist instinctively as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“How was your day, my love?” He asks, nose nuzzling your cheek.

You smile, realizing it doesn’t quite reach your eyes past the anxiety roiling in your chest. “It was good,” you tell him, not completely lying but not offering the full truth either. “How was your adventure to Sorcerer’s Sundries?”

At the mention of the bookstore Gale’s eyes light up as he tells you about what he found. Slowly, as he talks about the new information he found regarding his research, you both maneuver into a more comfortable position. Gale moves to lay across the length of the padded bench, leaning against the armrest as you settle between his legs, back resting against his chest.

His arms wrap loosely around your middle, hands resting over your stomach, completely unaware of the life that’s now growing there.

His words fade into the background as your mind starts to wander again, your hands moving to rest atop his own, your fingers slipping to toy with the simple gold band around his ring finger.

You don’t truly have many worries about the news. You know that Gale will weather anything with you but…you don’t want this to be a storm, or anything negative. What if Gale doesn’t want children? What if he pulls away from you when you tell him the news or is just as scared as you feel?

Soft lips against your neck pull you from your thoughts, familiar fingers slipping between your own to give them a squeeze.

“I know my research ramblings can at times be boresome. However, you seem to be lost to me more than usual this evening.” His words are gentle with just a touch of amusement as rests his head against yours. “What’s on your mind?”

You don’t respond right away, your nerves at an all time high and making your already tumultuous stomach even more uneasy. You squeeze his hand in yours.

“I went to see a healer today.”

Gale’s arms tighten around you, and you can feel the way he sits up straighter, your words concerning him.

“A healer? I didn’t even notice - are you sick?” He asks, worry clear in his voice. “I cannot believe I was so preoccupied I failed to take note of-“

You tug on the sleeve of his robes, holding him tighter to you. “I’m not sick. At least not…” You trail off, taking your lip between your teeth.

Gale urges you on with a gentle press of his lips to your shoulder, and that action alone seems to calm the raging sea of anxiety within you.

“I’m with child, Gale.”

The silence that follows your revelation feels oppressive. The only sounds meeting your ears being the lapping of waves against the shore and the distant call of gulls in the air.

Emotion clogs your throat as you clutch his hand. “Please…say something.”

You sit up then, turning to face the man behind you, but before you can fully do so, two strong arms wrap around you and bring you to your feet. Your surroundings turn into a blur around you as Gale spins you through the air, boisterous laughter falling from his lips until he brings you to a stop, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss.

His lips are warm and his arms secure as he holds you to him, as if afraid this would all fade away if he were to let you go.

Heat floods your cheeks when he pulls away, elation adorning his features as he looks at you, eyes glowing with an utter joy you’ve never quite seen on him before. He cradles your face in his hands, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks.

“I’m going to be a father? We’re going to have a child?” He asks, whispering the words in unbelieving reverence.

The smile that splits your lips is almost painful, any and all anxiety dissipating from you as you take in his reaction.

“Yes they…The healer said I would start showing soon, and if we want…Towards the end of the pregnancy they should be able to tell us the gender,” you tell him, hands grasping at the fabric of his robe.

Gale smiles wider, hands falling down to cradle your stomach and the new life that sits there.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says gently. “They will be loved either way, and no doubt a powerful wielder of the weave if I have anything to say about it.”

You can’t stop the chuckle that slips past your lips, and the surprising happy tears that fall down your cheeks. Gale notices the streaks immediately, smile faltering ever so slightly as he reaches back up to wipe the tears away.

“Why the tears? This is a joyous occasion, we should be celebrating!”

You shake your head, reaching up to place your hand atop his own as you turn to press a kiss to his palm. “They aren’t tears of grief…I was worried. Worried about telling you. I didn’t…we’ve never talked about children.”

Your husband smiles gently, eyes reassuring as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I can admit that this news was unexpected, but it’s…it is not unwelcome,” he tells you, eyes bright once more. “I’ve never given much thought to children because of everything that had consumed my mind in the past and then you appeared in my life and took over the rest of my thoughts,” he laughs. “But this…” He presses his hands to your belly again. “This is more than I could have ever asked for. More than any power I’ve ever dreamed of having. I find myself filled with indescribable joy at the thought of creating a life with you - a family.”

You press your lips to his as soon as the words leave his lips, pulling him impossibly closer until you break away to nuzzle into the space between his head and shoulder, excitement and happiness threatening to burst from your chest.

“I love you, Gale Dekarios.” You say, smiling as he pulls you tighter against him. “I can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You move to speak, but the presence of a familiar winged feline interrupts you as Tara rushes onto the balcony, wiggling happily.

“Oh my!” She exclaims, weaving between yours and Gale’s legs before jumping effortlessly up to perch on his shoulder as you both separate. “This is most exciting! Another Dekarios, can you believe it?” She asks, turning to Gale. “Hopefully this one won’t light himself on fire like you did all those years ago.”

You watch in amusement as Gale flushes a light shade of pink, flicking Tara’s ear playfully. “I was just starting to learn to master the weave! And I was eight, you can hardly blame me.”

You chuckle at their antics and reach up to card your hands through his hair at the nape of his neck, drawing his attention back to you.

“Well, they will have the best teacher. There’s no telling what they will accomplish with you as their guide.”

Gale smiles, leaning down to kiss you one last time before embracing you once more.

“We’ll guide them together.”

You hum in agreement, basking in the golden rays of the setting sun, the snapping of sails echoing across the water as you whisper against his skin.

“Together.”

Tags:

@dark-and-kawaii

#Gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #bg3 x reader #gale x tav #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale

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skzdarlings · 1 year

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04. sharing a bed series ; skz ; hyunjin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 4/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. penetrative sex n the pull out method lol. also hyunjin n reader were drugged the night before, premise is based around them getting married in vegas under the influence and not remembering how it happened in the morning. drama llama antics ensue.

Hyunjin has the heart of a sentimental corvid; he loves his people, but he’s weird and sneaky about it. His propensity for dramatics is only in certain situations and the rest of the time he is quiet and tends to balk at grand displays. He definitely does not like cuddling or hugging. He will only begrudgingly suffer through it when his more physically affectionate friends get the bright idea to attack him with their loving arms.

So you are wildly confused when you wake up in your hotel room with Hyunjin plastered to you, hugging you so tightly that you are halfway convinced he glued himself there. His chin is nestled on your shoulder, his breath coming softly against your neck. The hood of his grey sweatshirt is pulled over his head but some of his long blonde hair still falls on your face. You blow at it unsuccessfully, getting some in your eye. He holds you tighter.

What the hell?

You arrived in Las Vegas yesterday and while most of last night is a foggy blur, you do remember the room had two twin beds. Sure enough, there is a second bed just a few feet from yours, the covers completely untouched. The neatly made bed is a stark contrast to the mess of your bed: the duvet sliding off the foot, the pillows on the floor, the bedding partially untucked. All the sheets are wrapped around your body like a cocoon while a shivering Hyunjin clings to you, presumably for warmth.

You try to roll over but your bedsheet-burrito has you trapped, never mind Hyunjin’s death grip of a spoon.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper. “I can’t breathe.”

He grumbles and squeezes you, making you squeak.

“Hyunjin,” you say, a bit louder. “Wake up.”

He groans in his sleep and buries his face further in your neck. His nuzzling sends shivers shooting down your spine.

“Hyunjin.” It comes out like a croak. You try wriggling your shoulders. “Hyunjin, wake up!”

He makes a disgruntled sound but doesn’t move.

“Oh my god,” you say. “How are you such a bitch even when sleeping? Wake up!”

When he stays sleeping, you are forced to take drastic action. You turn your face and blow, hard. His face scrunches up and he finally stirs.

“Ew,” he says, slowly blinking his eyes open. His mouth draws into a sour pout, his brow tight. “Stop. Your breath is so disgusting.”

“Ahem.”

He makes a fist and rubs his eyes. His dark brows are still furrowed but there is modicum of clarity when he looks at you. It takes a minute to fully register your proximity, his eyes flicking here and there. Finally, they open wide.

With remarkable speed, Sleepy Hyunjin concedes leeway to Drama Queen Hyunjin. He mewls like a frightened cat, ripping away so quickly that it knocks the air out of you with an oof.

“What—” he starts.

He is interrupted when his thrashing makes him slide. You are still bundled in your bedsheet-prison and can only watch as the clumsy oaf slides backwards right off the bed. All those long limbs make a frantic windmill as he shrieks on his way down, hitting the floor with a heavy crash and groan.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Ugh,” he replies. “My head.”

“Are you dying?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well, when you’re done, come help me.”

His hand appears first, thumping onto the messy bed. His head follows with an exhausted peek over the mattress. His hood has fallen back and his long hair is infuriatingly neat considering everything. Hyunjin is so beautiful that it is ridiculous. All he does is run his long fingers through his hair, shake his head a little, and he looks picture perfect.

“You’re staring,” he says with a scowl.

“It’s because you’re so ugly,” you say.

“Liar,” he says. He makes a V with his fingers and licks between them. “I’m sexy and you love me.”

He is correct, so it is only natural that you try biting him.

You chomp at him when he approaches, threatening to bite his fingers when they get too close to your face. He pinches your nose between two knuckles and squeezes.

“Hyunjiiiiin, staaawp,” you say in a nasally whine.

He does, but only after playfully snapping his own jaws in your direction.

“I should just leave you here and have a peaceful day,” he says.

“I’ll kill you and bury you in the desert.”

“Gross. Can’t you bury me on the strip?”

“I’m gonna feed your carcass to some desert scorpions.”

“Ew.”

It takes some effort, but Hyunjin manages to find where your blanket-burrito starts. He grabs it and tugs like the annoying bimbo he is. Your protest comes too late and he whips the blanket open, sending you flying off the bed. You land with a heavy thud of your own.

“Oops,” he says. He rustles through the sheets to peer over the edge of the bed. “Are you okaaaa—whaaaat are you wearing?”

You were already dizzy before Hyunjin decided to throw you around like a human tennis ball, but now it’s even worse.

You have no idea what happened last night but it clearly involved a hit of something way, way, way stronger than usual. It takes you a minute to come back to reality. After shaking your head a few times, you are able to push yourself into a sitting position. You finally look down.

You freeze.

“Hyunjin,” you say. “What the fuck am I wearing?”

“That’s what I just—”

“Hyunjin. What the fuck am I wearing?!”

It is an utterly useless question because it is abundantly obvious that you are wearing a wedding dress. A big, poofy, princess wedding dress with giant puffed up 1980s sleeves and enough cleavage on display that Hyunjin almost falls off the bed because he is tilting his head so much.

You yank up the skirt as if that will offer any answers. You find a pair of white stockings, one still neatly clipped to a thigh garter and the other halfway down your calf. You stare at that stocking for a long moment, the vaguest recollection of something fighting its way through the fog of your druggy, drunk memory.

“Uh,” Hyunjin says.

You look up at him but his eyes are downturned to his own wrist. You look there, your own eyes widening when you see what he sees.

Your missing garter is looped around his wrist like a silky white bracelet.

An image comes flooding back. The periphery is still in smog, but you distinctly remember Hyunjin kneeling in front of you, gathering his long hair into a ponytail as he smirked up at you. You remember him lifting your skirt, his head disappearing under the pile of white lace.

You look at each other at the same time. Did he just have the same memory? Does he remember more? You have no idea and you can’t bring yourself to ask. Your voice is shot to hell, swallowed up by the heart that seems to have jumped into your throat.

The silence is tense. It is hotter than the desert in here.

“We didn’t…?” he finally says, pointing between the two of you.

“No way,” you say. It sounds very uncertain.

He lifts his other hand to tuck some hair behind his ears. That’s when you see it. Hyunjin wears so many rings so often that you completely missed it at first. But right now his hands are bare save for one unfamiliar ring in a very particular spot.

Hyunjin follows the trajectory of your horrified gaze and freezes when he spots the wedding ring. He slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“Oh my god,” you say. You are afraid to check your own hand but it is imperative. Hyunjin looks at you, his shocked hand still covering his mouth. Together, you watch as your hand shakily rises out of the pile of white princess lace.

There is a wedding ring on your finger too.

You and Hyunjin scream at the same time, him clapping both hands over his ears as he hollers and you shaking your head and kicking your feet. After your mini-freak out, you wave your hands to silence him.

“Stop, stop!” you say. “It’s okay. Be calm. Be quiet. This is okay.”

“We got married,” he wails, dragging his fingers down his face. “My mom is gonna kill me.”

“Your mom? YOUR MOM? Hyunjin, I’m gonna kill you before you even leave this city, so don’t fucking worry about your mom.” You mime throttling him because he is too far to reach.

Hyunjin flops down on the bed. He lays on his back with his arms folded like he is ready to be mummified.

“Oh my gawd,” he says. “Oh my gawwwd…”

“Look, we might not have even done it,” you say. It takes a lot of effort and you fall on your ass twice, but you manage to stagger ungracefully to your feet. “Some rings and a dress don’t mean anything. We were probably just goofing around. What do you remember?”

He is still in a mummification pose, his eyes closed.

“Nothing,” he says. He frowns. “No, wait. You were hitting on some ugly bitch of a man and didn’t listen to me, as usual, and the loser put something in your drink so I drank it to prove a point. But then you still drank it because you’re the worst, and I dragged you out of there.” He covers his face with both hands. “Then we got married and ruined our lives.”

“Okay, the last part you don’t know for sure,” you say. You stumble around the bed. “I’m gonna go wash up and clear my head and sort this out, because there’s no way we—” You stop when you spy something sitting on the television stand. It takes a few clumsy steps to reach, but you get there.

“Uh oh,” you say.

“Is that a marriage certificate?” Hyunjin asks.

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.” He rolls over so he is facedown on the bed, his voice muffled by the messy blankets. “I love this.”

“I’m gonna… go… wash up still,” you stay. You sigh and gather up your dress to stomp over to the bathroom door.

“Brush your teeth,” Hyunjin says. “Your breath is gross.”

“I hope you suffocate over there and make me a widow.” You close the door with a pointed shove.

You want to disobey him on principle, but there is a truly nasty taste in your mouth so you brush your teeth before anything else. You avoid your reflection for as long as possible because the crazed madwoman in the mirror is a terrifying sight to behold.

You reckon with her monstrous appearance eventually, tidying up as best you can. You remove the stockings and garter, gulping when the memory returns. You splash a lot of cold water on your face and it helps ground you.

Just as you begin to feel cleansed, you feel an itch on your throat. You crane your neck and tentatively touch the sensitive indentation, the raised bruising of a hickey. Touching it awakens another memory, one that strikes hot at your core.

Hyunjin. You. This hotel room. He pressed you against the door and caged you in, forearms on either of your head. Despite his presence looming over you, you did not feel nervous. You touched him as if that intimacy was something you always shared. You remember him cupping your face in one hand and turning your head, him kissing you softly on your temple and cheek, him breathing lightly over your throat before sucking a hard kiss under your jaw. He was all teeth and tongue, drawing moans out of you while you bucked against him. You remember him grinding against you, remember him pinning you to the door. You remember stringing your arms around his neck and him picking you up, then it all goes black again.

You turn away from the mirror, still holding your neck.

Did you… no.

Did you?

No.

You didn’t fuck Hyunjin. No way. You would have remembered that much. If nothing else, there would be evidence now. A used condom or a mess somewhere, a twinge between your legs. You are both fully dressed. You even have underwear on. It’s not the underwear you were wearing when you first left the hotel room, but it is underwear nonetheless.

One thing is certain; you did not go that far. He took a bite out of you and carried you to the bed where you probably passed out. How you got into a blanket-burrito, you are not sure, but at least it protected your dignity. Whatever was left of it, at least.

You step out of the bathroom only to walk straight into a pacing Hyunjin. You bonk heads and cuss each other out, swatting the other person out of your way.

He walks over to the bathroom and is about to step inside when you release a sigh.

“I have a hickey,” you say.

He pauses in the bathroom doorway.

“You gave it to me,” you add.

You cross your arms when he turns around, his gaze suddenly too hard to meet. You tap your foot and stare at the wall.

“I know,” he says. “I remember it.”

That draws your attention. You look right at him and plant your hands on your hips.

“Well, what else do you remember?” you ask.

“I—I—ugh! This is so annoying! Ugh!” He grabs his head and shakes it like a snow globe.

His stupid beautiful hair is barely ruffled and he still looks amazing when he surfaces. He runs his teeth over his plump bottom lip and you suddenly remember him grabbing your face with both hands, him smiling at you as a hot breeze fluttered around you, him holding you steady as he planted a big, wet kiss on you. It makes your whole body lock with tension, barely paying attention to the Hyunjin in front of you now, the Hyunjin on the verge of a meltdown as he intentionally smacks his head against the doorway.

“We came back here,” he says. His whole face is scrunched up with disgust like he just ate something bad. “Then I gave you that.” He slaps a hand over his face. “Then you… tried…” He puts the other hand on his face too.

“I tried what?” you ask, heat creeping your neck.

“You put your hand down my pants,” he croaks, hands over his eyes. “I said we should wait until morning and you started crying. I think you tried to give me a lap dance while crying, actually.” That does sound like you, drugged or not. “Then I…” He points to the messy bed. “I wrapped you in the sheet to protect your honour.”

“My honour? Ewwww. Don’t call it that.”

“I’m gonna go drown myself in the shower.”

“Hyunjin, wait.”

Once more, you stop him before he crosses the door. He sighs and his shoulders deflate. Pushing a hand through his hair, he turns around.

“What?” he says.

“I’ll take care of this, okay,” you say gently. “We weren’t ourselves. Thank you… for taking care of me. Seriously.”

He sniffs and looks aside, the tips of his ears turning red. You try to ignore the pitter-patter of your heart.

“It’s Vegas,” you say. “I bet they have drive-through divorces. I’m just… I’m just sorry this happened.”

“You are?” he says, staring at the ground.

“Of course,” you say with as much sincerity as you can muster. “Hyunjin, I know you. You’re a goofy old romantic. I’m sure you’re not happy about your first technical marriage happening while you were drugged up, and to someone you don’t even love. Right?”

He looks a little panicked when he meets your gaze. It flashes in his eyes for a second, then he looks away. He crosses his arms protectively over his chest.

“Hyunjin,” you say. It feels like someone just lit fireworks in your chest. “You… don’t… love me, right?”

There is a long moment of silence then he throws both hands in the air.

“Why do you say it like that?” he demands. “Would it be that bad if I did?”

“What.” Your jaw falls open. “You love me?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Sorry for inconveniencing you with my goofy romantic feelings.” He snarls at you. “It just happened. If I could have stopped it, I would have, but I can’t. So live with it.”

“What kind of love confession is this? You’ve watched like a million romance dramas and that’s what you come up with?”

“I’m a painter, not a poet. Good-bye.” He is quick this time, jumping into the bathroom and slamming the door closed.

It leaves you standing there, jaw still hanging open.

Hyunjin loves you.

Of course Hyunjin loves you. How could you be so stupid? All this time, you had yourself convinced your best friend was unattainable because he’s the most gorgeous creature on earth, but all this time he loved you and you didn’t even notice. He drank a drugged drink just to protect you. He got a bit nutty in the head and married you, but even at his most fucked up, some intrinsic part of him sprung to your defense. No matter how out of his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything that could potentially hurt you.

Oh my god.

Hyunjin loves you. You love Hyunjin.

You are pacing when Hyunjin exits the bathroom and smacks into you. You bonk heads and curse, again, then he brushes past without saying anything more. You watch him go to the clean bed, watch him fold back the covers. He takes off his hoodie and his pants. Despite how many times you have casually dressed down around each other, this time you find yourself looking away, hot in the face. When you look back, he is in a t-shirt and his boxers, sliding under the covers.

“What are you doing?” you ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“Going back to sleep,” he says. “I’m tired.”

He doesn’t look at you once. He rolls onto his side and faces the wall, laying stiff as a board.

You touch a finger to the mark on your neck and shiver.

“Hyunjin,” you say, to which he just grunts in reply. “I want to sleep too. I’m sorry, but can you help me with the dress?”

He exhales and closes his eyes, shoulders dropping, but then he flips the covers down and gets out of bed. He still doesn’t meet your gaze. His strides are long and quick and, before you can blink, he is in front of you.

You open your mouth to speak but he grabs you and spins you around. It feels like an electric zap from your heart to your pussy, hands instinctively clutching your chest in surprise.

You can feel him fiddling with a few buttons, muttering expletives to himself.

He is still wearing the ring. So are you.

“Hyunjin,” you say softly. “I love you too.”

He has his fingers on the zipper. He stops.

“What?” he asks. He stops touching you entirely so you look back at him. He is tucking hair behind both ears, shaking his head. “Don’t just… say it,” he says, still staring sideways. “That’s worse than not hearing it.”

“Hyunjin,” you say. At least he looks at you this time, even if it is with uncharacteristic uncertainty. You smile at him. “Unzip me please.”

You turn back around, chewing on your bottom lip.

It takes a second, but Hyunjin does what you asked. You feel one hand on your back, the other circling the zipper. He tugs it down slowly and you shiver as the cool air conditioned air kisses your back. His fingers brush your bare skin when releasing the zipper.

“Thank you,” you say, glancing back at him.

He nods curtly and spins around. You smile, watching him march back to the bed. You turn your back to him when you let the dress drop, then you remove your bra. His open luggage is nearby so you slip a t-shirt out of the suitcase. It smells like him, his favourite cologne, and that alone gets you hot.

With a final tug on the hem of the t-shirt, you turn and walk up to the bed he is in. He is sitting upright but under the covers, his hands folded neatly in his lap while he stares at you.

“Can I sleep here too?” you ask. “The other bed is a mess.”

He nods. A second ago, he refused to look at you and now he can’t stop staring. It makes you grin, beaming at him as you slide under the covers.

“You’re staring,” you say.

“I’m not,” he lies, still staring at you. He slumps against the headboard and slides down until he is laying flat. His hair pools around him on the pillow. Ridiculously gorgeous man.

You lean over him, staring back. You rest a hand on his chest and can feel his heart palpitating as quickly as your own.

“You are staring,” you say, then giggle a little because his expression is still wide-eyed. “You look like you’ve never seen a woman in bed before, and I know that’s not true.”

You say it jokingly but he doesn’t laugh. He tilts his head, his expression softening. His tongue touches his upper lip then he smiles at you.

“Not like this,” he says with heart-stopping sincerity. “Not you. Not… my wife.”

Oh god. People always act like there is something supremely unsexy about wife or husband, some stagnant nothingness that kills sex appeal. But the second he says that word, it feels like an electric storm ignites between the two of you. His gaze is dark, his breathing hard, his heart still pounding under your palm. You suck in a deep breath, a shuddering release. You are already aching.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper.

His hand comes up and cups your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. It passes over your bottom lip and tugs at it. It feels like you have a heartbeat between your legs.

“Fuck,” you say, and swing yourself over him.

He makes a noise the second you are straddling him, both his hands dropping to hold your hips. You lean down, your hands on either side of his head. His eyes are already closed when you start kissing him. You rock against him, feel him getting harder in his boxers as his hands run up and down your thighs.

The kiss breaks for a second, just to breathe, and he sighs.

“Good,” he says. “You brushed your teeth.”

“You are soooo…” You try to sound annoyed but it’s impossible. He laughs, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Ughhh, the worst!”

You roll off him as if you have any intention of denying him, but he doesn’t give you a chance to tease him. He just follows, rolling on top of you so it’s you pinned under him, the weight of him between your open legs. He goes right back to kissing you, taking his time, almost torturously slow while pressed so intimately against you. He licks into your mouth, nips at your bottom lip, steals your breath and comes back for more.

“Hyunjin.” You are out of breath. You grab his face with both hands, gasping against his open mouth.

“Mm?” he replies, pecking your lips.

A part of you thinks you could lie in bed all day doing nothing but kiss Hyunjin. Just a small part. The rest of you is burning up with the need for much, much more.

“Make love to me,” you whisper. His breath stutters. “Please,” you say.

He nods frantically. If you weren’t so hazy with want, it might have made you laugh. As it is, you string your arms around his neck and pull him down for another kiss. This one gets heated quickly, wet and sloppy and pressed messily to the corner of your mouths, your hands moving over each other, trying to find the hems of your shirts without breaking apart.

It happens in a frenzy, but you somehow get down to just your underwear. His boxers land on the lamp and the shirts could have flown out the window for all that you care. He is laving kisses all over your body and you are so wound up that you get a little teary, arching under him and tugging on his hair.

“Hyunjin, please,” you say, dragging your nails up his back. “I need you.”

He looks up at you. You smile and bite your lower lip.

“I need my husband,” you say.

You are pretty sure you can visibly see his brain short-circuiting. The next second, he is fully above you, pulling your panties down your hips. It stays hooked around one ankle but the thought of it leaves your mind quickly. He slides his hands under your thighs and spreads you open, leaning down to kiss you as he finally eases inside you.

You both look down at where he inside you. It feels like your clit is jumping for attention, your whole body shaking when he gently rubs you there while sinking fully in.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says, mostly to himself once he fully inside you. He closes his eyes and breathes a little harder. “Don’t move,” he says. He leans down so his chest is against yours, your faces close. “If you do, this is gonna be over really quickly.”

“Really?” you say with a giggle, pleased he is as unravelled as you.

He just nods, his eyes still closed. You kiss his cheek and hold the back of his neck, stroking there lightly and giving him a minute.

“Feels good,” you say, because it does, even just like this, pressed so tightly together, him so full and hard inside you.

He just groans, dropping his face to the crook of your neck and shoulder. You rake your fingers through the hair at his nape when he rocks a testing thrust into you. You have only just adjusted when those hips starting rocking with fluid determination, rolling steady and deep. He feels almost impossibly good inside you, driving you into the mattress again and again.

“Oh my god,” you squeak, putting both arms around his neck and clinging tight. “Hyunjin.”

He just makes noise, unintelligible sounds that make him sound crazy despite how deftly he is moving. You feel a bit crazy yourself, blinking at him with your mouth open when he lifts his head. He kisses you, swallowing up your gasping moans, and presses his forehead to yours. For someone who claimed to be close, he lasts a long time at a steady pace, the subtle, corded muscles of his slender frame holding taut as he moves.

“Touch yourself,” he says, and kisses you without waiting for an answer.

You kiss him back, very messily at that, but you do what he said. You lick your fingertips and slide that shaking hand between your bodies, getting yourself off just seconds before his hips get erratic and he has to pull out. He strokes himself to completion just over you, coming on your thighs. He manages to reserve his strength long enough to gather you in his arms and roll over. He guides you to rest on top of him, your face in his sweaty neck and your rising-and-falling chest against his own.

“Why haven’t we been doing that for years?” you mumble.

He laughs, his hand flying to his face to cover his mouth while he giggles. The ring catches your eye and you reach for that hand. He gets quiet, watching you.

You lace your fingers with his, looking at the ring then looking up at him.

“We’re a little crazy if we stay like this,” you say.

He leans in and kisses you for so long that you almost forget what you were saying. You remember when he smiles down at you, when he squeezes your hand, when he leans in and says, “That’s okay. I like a little crazy.”

In agreement, you smile back.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut

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xyziiix · 10 months

Text

𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌 𝘐𝘚 𝘈 𝘊𝘙𝘖𝘞𝘋 ~ 𝘑.𝘗 & 𝘚.𝘙

PAIRINGS: Captain John Price X Female!Reader X Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

WARNINGS: SMUT - this is pure porn u guys - MMF threesome, unprotected P in V (wrap it please for the love of god) spanking, ROUGH GHOST, Price being an arsehole, being fucked over a desk, Eiffel Tower 😏, oral (m!receiving), creampie, kinda degrading.

A/N: I heard your pleas you little horndogs. You ask and you shall receive. (Sorry it’s a lil rushed and — surprise surprise, not proof read yet)

[could be read as a part 2 to ARDOUR, could also be read by itself)

It was Price that had noticed it first.

Of course he had. He was regardful. Observant.

He noticed it first a few days after you’d returned to base from Urizakstan. The way the Lieutenant’s eyes would linger on you when you were talking or just suddenly appeared — breathing life into the room, as you usually did. And it wasn’t just in a way one would be respectably paying attention to someone whilst they were speaking or doing something to gather their attention — No. it was the way his eyes — ones that always seemed devoid of emotion — would follow your body when you moved around, would watch you like a predator stalking it’s prey. Price recognised the look in his eyes.

Because that’s how he also looked at you.

While the situation you and Price were in was… delicate — and would definitely rouse misplaced reactions by the people in your place of work — he thought the idea of another man looking at you the way Ghost did would’ve angered him. Made him jealous. Irrational.

But for some reason it didn’t irk him as he thought it would.

And it wasn’t long after that he figured out Simon knew about you two. Perhaps the way Ghost seemed to be more observant and more silent than usual when the two of you were normally interacting with each other in front of the task force — keeping it strictly professional while you weren’t in the privacy with only each other. So that’s how Price figured he knew. Why would he be acting odd — even more than usual — about the two of you simply talking in the same room as everyone? It was like he knew a secret, a dirty secret.

Turns out he did.

In that battered down, sad excuse of a safe house in the Urzikstan dessert, it turns out not everyone was asleep that night while your Captain decided to fuck you.

You two had hidden it well — he’d give you both credit for that — so it was safe to say it had genuinely surprised him when he saw the sight in front of him that night. He was careful. Quiet. Like a ghost. Sticking to the shadows and moving silently — which was very surprising considering the Lieutenant’s looming height.

He had heard the noises — your noises — and it was obvious they were trying to be muffled. At first, he’d immediately thought of danger, that’s why he had been cautious to approach instead of just bursting into the room.

He remembers the feeling of his chest tightening in realisation when he saw what he saw. Price’s back was to Ghost — laying on his side on the ground. He couldn’t get a good look at your face, but he could see the glow of perspiration from the moonlight shining through the thin glass pane window and onto the dewy skin of your bare leg draped over Price’s thigh. Even just the silver of soft skin and the sound of your singing being trapped into the Captain’s palm had Simon hard, his pants tightening in his groin area — other than that he remained completely silent, even his breathing seemed nonexistent as he just watched the two of you. He didn’t even touch himself either, just watched. Like he thought if he looked away for a moment then the image of you like this would be gone.

But now it had been burned into his memory. The sounds you made. The soft and supple flesh of your thigh. And even the way your dainty hand had grabbed onto Price’s arm when he made you come. He wondered if you’d make those noises for him — except he wouldn’t muffle them with his palm. No. He’d want you to let everything out, every scream, every cry, every wanton moan while he fucked you dumb with his cock.

Price had brought up his observation of the Lieutenant one night a few weeks later. Both of you basking in the afterglow of sex in your rooms in the barracks.

“Simon.” He started simply, and you had turned to look at him quizzically.

“What about him?”

“Think he knows.”

Somewhere between then and now, you had discussed the possibility of this. To say you were very surprised when Price was the one that suggested Simon fucking you was an understatement. It wasn’t that Price wanted to be sexual with Ghost — as sexy as that would’ve been to see — he liked the idea of watching him fuck you. He couldn’t explain why, but just something that had been brewing in the back of his mind.

You had told Price that he wouldn’t have wanted that — that he was a closed off person who was hard to read, how could John have possibly conjured up that assumption that Simon was attracted to you?

Well, your captain always liked proving you wrong.

Because here you were, bent over the expanse of John’s desk — the desk you’d already had the pleasant experience of being bent over, laid atop of, and sat underneath while you sucked his cock as he sat in the desk chair — only this time it was infact, Lieutenant Simon Riley plowing into you with his intimidatingly large cock.

His grip on your hips was borderline painful — but it hurt so good. You worried he may make the desk topple over with how hard he was thrusting into you. You’d never been this stretched open before — feeling the too much, too full feeling of his dick inside of you, the blunt head of his length kissing the plug of your cervix with each steady but strong buck of his hips.

The masked man’s gaze was set of the globes of your arse, how the flesh rippled when his hips met yours, how every time it did so he got a glimpse of your little puckered hole — fuck, he wanted to fuck you there as well. But, he didn’t want to push his luck just yet. The only noises to be heard in Price’s office was skin meeting skin, the sound of your small cries and whimpers of ecstasy. You tried to stay quiet, you really did, but it was rather pathetic — your moans eventually interjecting through the room.

That’s when Price had changed his mind about just watching you. He had been painfully hard the last 15 minutes from having watched you already come on Ghost’s cock, your eyes glassy and lips red raw from biting them as you gripped onto the table for dear life. You didn’t even register him standing in front of you until you heard the sound of metal teeth being zipped open as well as the buckle of his belt.

“Gotta keep you quiet, love.” He excused with a chuckle while sliding his cock between your lips.

You really did have to keep quiet. And though the door was locked anyone walking by would’ve heard you — being fucked by your lieutenant while your captain watched.

You tried to focus on hollowing your cheeks around John’s cock. But you were utterly cock drunk, already feeling another powerful orgasm building in the pit of you abdomen while Simon continued to fuck you. Price had obviously noticed you struggling — as the bastard seemed to notice everything, he’d smugly remind you — so he had gathered your hair, using it to lift your head up as he started to fervently fuck your throat.

If you thought you felt impossibly full then you were beyond stuffed now, your jaw slack as John fucked your face and your pussy stretched almost painfully wide around Simon’s cock.

Ghost let out a prolonged, raspy breath when he felt you squeezing his dick in a vice. And in return, one of his hands left your hips in order to collect both your wrists with his single, calloused palm, pining them to your lower back as he fucked you impossibly harder, his pace quickening a little. His other palm landing a smack to your sore asscheeks — a crack of palm meeting flesh sounding in the office.

“Look at you, eh?” Price spoke, his tone annoyingly steady despite your mouth gliding up and down his cock. “Being fucked by your superiors. What would everyone make of you?” He asked with a gruff chuckle — and obviously you couldn’t answer.

About several moments later you felt yourself tumbling into another fierce climax, all but crying around John’s cock as your abused cunt squeezed Simon pitifully — which rewarded you with another slap to your rear, the skin red raw.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon grunted lowly — that adding to the short list of words he’d actually spoken this whole time.

Your arse hurt, your wrists hurt, your jaw hurt — your fucking pussy hurt — but you didn’t want it to stop, ever.

John pulled his cock out of your mouth, his dick coated in a mix of saliva and precum. His hand still buried in your hair — keeping your head up. Your neck hurt as well.

“Such a good girl.” Price praised as he bent his knees a little to see your face better, a smug smile curling his lips at the tears staining your flushed cheeks. “He makin’ you feel good?” He asks, there’s an edge to his voice.

The Lieutenant — being so full of surprises tonight — pushes his hand under you. The rough pad of his thumb cruelly flicking your clit. Your body seizing forward, a sharp cry escaping your lips while Simon still held your wrists pinned behind you.

When your eyes had widened at the overstimulating sensation, John had mirror your expression — but mockingly. “You like being used like this don’t you?”

You could only moan in response — unable to form a coherent thought let alone sentence.

Price tapped your cheek, your eyes focusing back on his smug face. “Asked you a question, love.” He reminded you. Arsehole.

“Yeah-“ you managed to babble out, your words shaking in tandem with your body, John’s smile curled into a Cheshire Cat grin — his goatee lifting.

“Yeah, you do.” He repeated.

Neither men had lasted much long after that. Price had gone back to fucking your face while Simon was relentlessly pounding into you. Your third orgasm was — quite literally — breath taking, it felt like your skin was on fire, yet numb at the same time. You definitely couldn’t feel your legs. Ghost came first, burying himself all the way to the hilt before spilling hot ropes of come inside of you with a groan — so much that it leaked out of you in a dribble of pearly white, you had let out a pathetic whine when he pulled out — the empty feeling had you quivering around nothing.

Price came a few moments later, filling your mouth with his salty spend before you swallowed it all. It tickled your raw throat.

Ghost had left soon after, not that he was ignorant in checking up on you, but because he knew that wasn’t his place to do so — not yet anyway. He had helped you up from the desk though, soothing his hands up and down your waist before Price took over. He had shared a look with you — his eyes saying everything his mouth wouldn’t.

@tapioca-marzipan @kanyewestburnbook @darksxder @louve-barnes @emodanoriddler @imonmykneessir @nightingal3-tales @ghost-2513 @fruitymoonbeams-blog

I tagged the ppl who commented on ARDOUR, if your name isn’t in grey then it wouldn’t let me tag you x

Call Of Duty MW2 Masterlist

#john price x reader #captain price smut #captain john price #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut

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wishluc · 11 months

Note

Can I request a yandre blade and kafka silently in a tug of war for the readers attention (btw the reader is a stellaron hunter being chill like silver wolf)

I adore them Ahhhhh Blade's characterisation is based purely off my impression of him :O

With Kafka seated so close to you, you were surprised that nobody had contacted the authorities yet. The three of you were treated like any other customer in the quaint restaurant, despite your companions having their faces plastered all over Starskiff Haven, and you had yet to be approached by furious soldiers or, if your luck had finally run out, the General himself.

Though you think that if anyone were to attempt to apprehend Kafka, it would make for quite the spectacle. You can already picture the unconcerned expression she'd have, her lips still smiling, her gaze piercing, and her form completely relaxed, and the words she would say to the poor fool—laced with just a hint of mock surprise—before making her way out of the building. At least they'd be alive; if Blade were to get involved...well, you were just glad that his unsettling presence was enough to ward off any justice-driven warrior.

Starwatcher Avenue was gorgeous, without a doubt. In the short time you had been there, you had fallen in love with the bustling streets and the lovely cuisine, though most of your days so far were spent hidden away and waiting for Blade. Despite this, you were really looking forward to leave the Flagship, the anxiety that followed you with being associated with two wanted criminals too much to bear. At least back on your ship, you could easily evade the authorities sent after the Stellaron Hunters.

Kafka, however, was clearly in no rush. She lounged around most of the time, sometimes taking you out for a meal or to go shopping, and appeared to have no worries regarding her status. Even though Blade had regrouped with you, she was still insistent on staying, attempting to placate your troubled heart with sweet, whispered promises and firm assurances. Today's trip was also her way of proving to you that you were in no danger, and you almost believed her.

But you recently realized that living in constant fear of being arrested was nothing compared to the troubles awaiting you. It could be much worse. It could be staying with Blade.

You could...manage, with Kafka. She was unpredictable, at times, but you could rest assured that she'd never put you in harm's way. She never told you what she was planning, forcing you to rely on her cunning words, but you were familiar enough with her by now to know what she expected, and how to appease her. You could play into her desires, smile at her clever quips and lean into her possessive hold, and she would find delight in it all, even though she was aware of your intentions. She liked your little schemes, though it was no use plotting against her—Kafka was always a step ahead, always prepared to pull you back to her side and remind you of just who she was.

Blade, however, was a complete enigma to you.

You weren't very familiar with the other Hunter, having spent most of your time being lugged around by Kafka, but even the little time you spent with him had already convinced you that there was something frightening about him. You think it might be his dark eyes, seemingly seeing through your every action, which, coupled with his habit of staring at you, never failed to unnerve you. Your first encounter with him, too, left you shaking—you'd never forget the sensation of cool metal pressing against your skin, his sharp gaze locked on you with the slightest curl of his lips. You could never tell what he wanted from you.

He had smiled at you when you were tasked with wrapping new bandages around his hand shortly after his escape, and asked if you came all the way to the Xianzhou Luofu just to see him (You remember the sound of his laughter when you turned to look at Kafka in response, and you remember how something inside you stirred at the mesmerising sight). But he had yet to pull you into his arms, or smother you with affectionate words and thinly veiled threats, and you weren't quite sure what to make of him. You could only hope that his interest in you was short lived—it was tiring enough to keep Kafka placated.

"Open up, darling," Kafka's smooth voice breaks you out of your trance.

She holds a silver spoon out, a small piece of the pudding she ordered balancing carefully on it. You quickly obey, letting her feed you despite the shame that lingered when you notice Blade's curious gaze directed at you.

"Why aren't you that well behaved for me?" You freeze at Blade's remark, the dessert in your mouth suddenly tasting like sand.

Kafka chuckles, putting down the spoon in favor for placing her hand on your cheek. She gently directs you to face Blade, the man regarding you with blatant fascination.

"Why, Bladie?" Kafka's gloved fingers trace your bottom lip, "Are you jealous?"

"You're always so stiff around me," he muses, "but here you are, acting as the perfect pet for her."

"That's because we are well acquainted," you catch a wicked glint In Kafka's eyes, "It's not an act," she taps at your cheek, "is it?"

You shake your head silently, and Kafka's smile widens. Blade's displeasure is obvious in the slight frown on his face and the glare focused at where Kafka's touching you, and you start to regret picking sides.

"How cruel."

You lean back into your seat, suddenly feeling suffocated by the tense air that enveloped the table. For a moment, you swear you catch the slightest twitch of Blade's lips, but you're immediately distracted by Kafka's displeased frown.

You clear your throat in an attempt to dissipate the tension, "When will we be returning?"

"We still have matters to conclude here," Blade informs you.

Your heart sinks, but you try your hardest to hide your disappointment, "I thought we were only here for..." You glance at him, "for Blade?"

Kafka's hand had found its way to your thigh while your attention was elsewhere, her fingers splayed over your clothes, "We need to wait for the Express crew, my dear. You can be patient a little while longer, no?"

You nod, and watch as she takes a bite of the pudding for herself, the spoon in her mouth for a moment too long before she placed it down again. You turn to look outside the window instead, not wanting to meet her gaze after that display, and instead catch sight of a familiar tall figure. Around him are multiple guards in uniform, and you can already see passersby begin to whisper amongst themselves while surveying the scene. You're reminded of the posters drawn in red ink, and the fate awaiting you if you get caught. They'd want to interrogate you, wouldn't they? To your side, Kafka stands up, carefully placing her coat over her shoulders before glancing down at you with her hand outstretched. A part of you wishes you could be as composed as her by everything, but her lack of concern came from a place of confidence, in her own ability and Elios' plan. You have neither—all you can trust in is your companions. You take her hand and get up, forcing yourself to hide your growing fear. Kafka strolls out of the exit, and you follow suit, making your way out of the building and back into the streets of Starwatcher Avenue. You don't look back to see where Blade is, assuming he had disappeared into the crowd already.

As the usual protocol in situations like this, you separate from Kafka (She has insisted, before, that you never leave her side regardless of the circumstances, but you know better than to comply), and start to find your own way back to your hideout, but as you make your way down the large staircase, a hand brushes against the small of your back and a figure appears beside you. If he noticed the way you stiffened up at his touch, Blade didn't comment on it, simply falling into step with you, as though he was always there.

"This way," he instructs, moving you towards an inconspicuous alleyway between some stalls. You don't want to follow him, but with the looming threat behind you, you can't afford to attract any more attention to yourself, so you let his hand rest on you and follow his lead.

"Don't be afraid," he whispers, lips brushing against your ear, "nobody uses this path. This way, we'll have plenty of time to get...acquainted"

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

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xmalereader · 8 months

Text

Simon Riley x Medic! Male Reader

—

|| Masterlist ||

—

Authors Note: I’m finally updating again 😫, I’ve been busy with my studies and advancing in my Japanese before I leave next year, gotta be prepared and working extra hours for the money 🤪, but either way. I was able to get a few requests completed and will make sure to update as much as I can!

Request: Remember the quest where graves seize all Los Vaqurous (Dunno the spelling sorry- ;-;) and have to kill both ghost and soap? What if Reader who is medic from Ghost Team and Graves saw the potential and decide to have Medic Reader for himself so he seize Reader too. Follow the plot of the game, they got Reader last after saving Alejandro and his team. Happy ending where Reader said "You found me... " and Ghost reply with "I always found you" :D

Warnings: Language, background, reader is a medic, soft ghost, slight angst, mentions of past trauma, Graves is a creep, Spanish language, Price likes reader.

Word Count: 1.9K

Tag: @keera9534

—

Y/n was the teams best medic, being picked by Price himself due to knowing how good he was at patching up the team and providing the proper medicine. He first joined the team when Price was in need to medical help after taking a bullet to the abdomen. When they brought him in, the nurses and doctors were far too frantic and full of worry as they ran around the medical wing checking on other wounded soldiers and trying to attend to them, leaving Price with no medical attention. The captain had tried to patch himself up since it wasn’t the first time that he’s gotten injured and had stitched himself up.

But the situation was far worse and the bullet had been lodged inside which made it difficult for Price to get it done himself. It wasn’t until one of the rookies quickly stepped up, attending Price and making sure that he’s given the proper attention. The captain was too drowsy to fight off the rookie due to blood lose that Y/n acted quickly, ignoring Prices cursing and pained groans while he worked on his wound, using the proper tools to remove the bullet and get him stitched up.

Price noticed how fast the rookie worked and how quick he is to stitch and patch him up. The captain was left in surprise and impressed by his work only for the rookie to get in trouble by doing something he wasn’t stationed to do. That same day Price took interest in the rookie and asked Laswell about him, getting his records and reading into his life and finding out that the young man had gone to the best medical schools and ended up here.

The kid was reckless, but knew what he was doing and Price liked that.

Y/n was the first to be recruited by Price, getting trained in combat and how to handle a gun in order to keep himself alive while out on the field with the others. After a few months Price later brings in Ghost into the team, scaring the poor rookie when they first met. The doctor found him intimidating due to his silence and the skull mask he wore, rarely talking to Y/n whenever the two were in the same room or whenever he was patching him up.

The two only spoke whenever they were on missions, but never in private.

The doctor figured that he wouldn’t be getting along with Ghost for really long time since they rarely spoke, only for that to change when one of the soldiers that he was helping started hitting on him. Flirting with him and finding excuses to see him whenever he was injured and the doctor grew irritated by it. It all happened when the Solider grew upset with Y/n ignoring his snarky flirting, cornering him and growing desperate only for Ghost to randomly appear behind man and pull him away from the doctor.

Ghost had given the man a deadly look that frightened the man easily and was quick to scurry away. Y/n appreciated Ghosts help and offered to buy him a drink as a thank you which Ghost easily accepts, giving the two a chance to finally talk with each other out of base and non work related. That night was all it took in order for their feelings to grow, sometimes tip towing around each other, but it was clear as day that the two liked each other deeply.

Their relationship deepened as the years went by to the point where they ended up dating for a two years, working together in the field along with Gaz, Soap, and Price. The three knew how inseparable both Ghost and Y/n were that it wasn’t a surprise when they were assigned to work under the Shadow Company, getting the know Graves who they followed orders from.

His time working with the Shadow company was strange. Y/n sensed that something wasn’t right when he was grounded by Graves and to stay in base and work as a doctor from there, which he did not like. Their were times where he tried to get in communication with Ghost and to tell him about the strange feeling he was getting only for his requests to speak with the lieutenant to be rejected which only made the feeling worse.

It wasn’t until the night that Graves decided to go against them that all hell broke loose.

The alarms of the base were going off and the sounds of shouting and protests were being heard.

Y/n was rushing out of the medical room, looking around with confusion and worry as a few soldiers were running around the place. “Que esta pasando?” He asks one of the soldiers running down the hallways as they quickly tell him that they are being rounded up in the main lobby. It doesn’t really reassure him about the alarms going off and heads towards the lobby.

“Round them up!”

“Get them in the cells!”

He stands over the lobby to see Graves shadows rounding up Alejandros men, pointing their guns at them and forcing them into cells. The image alone lets him be aware of what is going on, noticing one of the Shadows spotting him and calling out. “We have one on the balcony!”

“Shit!” Y/n is quick to duck down when they shoot their guns at him, making him run out of sight and trying to find a way out of base without getting killed.

He’s able to make it down the first floor without being detected only to turn the corner and come face to face with Graves. “Easy, doc.” He says while grabbing him by the arms, stopping his struggles when he noticed three shadows behind Graves and armed. “I ain’t gonna hurt you doc, your far too special.” Said Graves as Y/n glared at him, gritting his teeth in anger as he pulls his arm away from his hold. “I knew something was bad about you.” He points out while his eyes remain on Graves, keeping a close eye on him as the man chuckled. “Yeah, well, it’s already too late. Your friends are probably dead by now since my shadows are hunting them down as we speak.”

Y/n scoffs. “I guess your leaving me for last to kill?”

Graves grins. “Oh. Oh no, you—“ He takes a slow step forward while Y/n takes one back. “You I will keep, your a good doctor and I will be needing you for sure, but for now I need to make sure you don’t escape.” Graves signals the three shadows towards Y/n, “Lock him up, separated from the others while I clean up this mess.”

Y/n takes a step back from the shadows and tries to fight back, kicking and punching them only for them to grab him by the arms and wrists and pining him against the wall, grunting and glaring before he’s dragged away from Graves who only watched with a sinister smirk on his face. He’s taken to his own cell, tossed inside without a care while they locket the door on him.

“Son of a bitch!” He shouts, slamming his firsts against the metal door and pulling on the handle, knowing that it wouldn’t work already. “I swear to god when I get out of here I am going to kill you!” He goes on, throwing out his own threats to anyone who can hear him. He doesn’t forget Graves’ words and how he was hunting down his team for all he knows both Soap and Ghost could be dead, but refuses to believe it. Soap was a great shot and Ghost.

Well, he was something else.

A simple shadow couldn’t kill him.

Simon had been through far worse condition. When they were a few months into their relationship and the trust between the two was growing, Simon had gained the courage to finally talk to Y/n about his past. When Simon told him about his time as a kid and the way his father treated him made the doctor realize how bad his life really was and the reason why he joined the British military. Y/n didn’t judge Simon nor did he ever bring up his traumas whenever they were alone, only thinking about it in silence.

Their conversation deepened their bond and the two grew closer than ever.

While Y/n paced around the room he tries to figure out a way out of this cell, checking every crook and cranny as his fingers skim over the barred windows only to curser under his breath when he doesn’t find anything. “Dammit, Alejandro this place is sealed.” He mumbled out to himself.

He checks under the bed, hoping to find anything that could help him and crawls underneath. “This could work.” He finds the metal bed frame to be rusty, crawling out and using his strength to kick a piece off, groaning with each kick until the metal piece falls off, taking it in his hand and working quickly to scrape it against the concrete floor, sharpening it enough to use as a weapon.

Before he could finish up the sound of gun shots is heard from outside his cell, causing him to freeze as the alarms of the base are going off again. He doesn’t stop to think and quickly continues to sharpen the metal and quickly finished up. He holds it in his hand tight while standing close to the doorway, preparing for anyone who comes in.

The sound of gun shots grows louder, hearing muffled shouts in the background as he keeps his eyes on the metal door. The sound of tumbling bodies gets him alerted while holding up the sharpened metal piece, moving closer to the door as chains rattle on the other end, he pressed himself against the corner as the door is prided open.

The doctor doesn’t think and is quick to react, swinging his arm down at the shadow entering his cell, but his hit us quickly blocked. He kicks his leg and brings him down on his knee, using his other arm to wrap around his neck and hold the sharpened blade against his neck.

“Y/n!”

The sound of a familiar voice gets his attention, looking up to see Simon standing on the other side of the door along with Rudy and Alejandro who stared with wide eyes by how fast he is to defend himself. “Ghost?” He breaths out, looking down to see who he has in a headlock only to see Soap. “Shit, Soap—“ He quickly lets go of him and lowered down his own weapon.

“No worries, mate. Understandable reaction.” Said Soap with a nervous laugh while slowly getting up from where he kneeled.

“I thought��” Y/n starts, eyes focused on Ghost who approached him slowly, taking the blade from his hand and tossing it aside while the doctor stares at Ghost. “I didn’t think you’d come for me.” He whispers and Ghost gives off a soft chuckle. “I’ll always come for you.” He responds back, reminding the doctor that he would never leave him behind.

“Come on, lets get out of here and get somewhere safe.” Alejandro is quick to speak up while they leave the cell and help out Alejandro’s man out of their own cells. “Here.” Ghost reached for one of his pistols and hands it to Y/n who takes it into his own hands and cocks the gun. “Why do I get the small one?” He pouts out, getting a reaction from the other man who rolled his eyes. “You’ll get a bigger one once we are out of here.” Y/n chuckled softly at his response. “That’s a promise.” He whispers loud enough for Ghost to hear before following the others out, getting them to safety.

#simon riley x reader #Simon Riley x male reader #ghost x male reader #male reader #mw2 ghost #Simon Riley #medic male reader #medic reader #mw2

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hintsofhoney · 1 year

Text

Radio and the Rain

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When a bad storm forces you and Dean apart on a hunt, he realizes just how much you mean to him.

Tags: 18+, smut, making love, p in v, all that jazz... nothing too crazy

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Hello, I'm back after almost 6 months. Moving across the country (again) among other big life events (all good ones!) gave me the worst writer's block of all time, but thanks to my friends (@soaringeag1e & @emoryhemsworth), writing this fic per their suggestion (based off Radio and the Rain by Chris Young) is what finally pulled me out of it! Beta'd by my angels @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean. Alright, hope you all enjoy, and I promise I'll be back again with more things soon!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Y/N!” Dean calls out, doubtful that you can hear him over the sound of the rain coming down as he tries to ignore the panic building inside him. His hair is stuck to his forehead from the downpour, water droplets streaming down his face as he tries to shield himself from the weather. It’s no use. He’s soaked to the bone – he’s not sure he could have worn enough layers to keep him dry, not in this storm – and the darkness of the forest seems to go on forever. He could have sworn there was a town nearby – some light pollution would be really helpful right about now – but he seems to be shit out of luck. Thunder booms above him, almost deafening, and he keeps on what he hopes is the right path, his heart rate steadily increasing. He needs to find you.

“Y/N!” he yells again after another minute passes. If he’s soaked, he can’t imagine what you must be. He remembers what you’re wearing; skinny jeans, a thin green t-shirt, a black faux leather jacket, hunting boots. Normally, he doesn’t complain about your refusal to wear more layers, but right now, ‘I told you so’ is on the tip of his tongue. He would need a large amount of hands to count how many times he’s told you to prepare for anything , and that a flimsy t-shirt and jacket weren’t gonna cut it, but in your defense, this storm came out of nowhere. He had to give you that, at least.

“Dean!” he whips his head around at the faint sound of his name making its way through the rain, and yells yours out once more before making his way towards your voice. His eyes are adjusted enough to the dark to where he can make out silhouettes of fallen trees ahead of him, stepping over them with little caution as you call out to him again. He has to make sure you’re okay. He has to get to you.

“I’m here, Y/N!” he yells, “Where are you!?”

“Dean!”

He hears it, clear as day from behind him. He turns around in time to see the outline of your soaked body appearing from behind the trees.

“Y/N!” He rushes to you, taking your cold hand in his, and you can’t tell if he’s relieved or angry to see you – or a little bit of both. You should have listened to him when he told you splitting up was a bad idea, but completing the hunt had been the only thing on your mind, Dean’s lectures about safety be damned. “Jesus, you’re freezing,” he comments, like he isn’t an icicle himself. He wants to say, ‘I told you splitting up was a bad idea’, but he holds his tongue. He can lecture you later.

He grabs you firmly by the shoulders, looking you up and down. “Are you okay?”

With the rain pouring down, he sounds like he’s whispering, even though you can tell he’s only a decibel away from full-on screaming. Lightning strikes in the distance, and you’re able to get a clear view of his face for a brief moment. Water streaming down his clenched jaw, hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, worried green eyes searching yours. They land on your cheek, which you think is bleeding thanks to the branch that smacked you in the face a few minutes ago, and you roll your eyes at his over-concern.

“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just a scratch.”

“C’mon,” he replies gruffly, pulling you into his coat in an attempt to shield you from the rain. “Baby’s got a first aid kit in the back.”

Ten minutes of walking later and you can make out Baby’s silhouette parked on the road on the other side of some trees. The rain seems to have gotten even worse – if that’s even possible – and the thought of being underneath some type of roof (Baby’s was just as good as any) where you’d have an opportunity to get dry was getting your tired legs through the last bit of your trek out of the muddy woods.

Your first step onto the dirt road comes with more rain as you come out from under the umbrella of trees. Dean opens the back door for you, ushering you inside and telling you not to worry about your shoes (something that he was usually a stickler about; he liked a clean car). To your surprise, he gets in behind you, quickly closing the door before the backseat can get even more wet. He leans over the front bench, fishing his keys out of his pocket, before starting the ignition and turning on the heat. The radio comes on as Baby starts up, and he lets it play as he opens the glove box and pulls out a flashlight, before sitting back and reaching underneath the driver’s seat for the first aid kit.

“Hold this,” he orders, turning on the light and handing it to you, the brightness of the bulb causing you both to squint as your eyes adjust.

“Dean, I told you, I’m fine,” you reiterate with an exhausted sigh, watching as he opens the white box in his lap.

“Shine it on your face, I need to get a better look.”

You roll your eyes, pointing the flashlight on your cheek, allowing Dean to grab the underside of your chin as he moves your head to the side and examines the damage.

“Needs to be cleaned,” he announces, letting you go and pulling out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze from the kit. You watch as he unscrews the cap and flips the bottle over, letting the cloth absorb some of the liquid before flipping it back and closing it. “This is gonna sting.”

He says that every time, and you chuckle softly in response. “Yeah, not my first time.”

He doesn’t even crack a smile. He grabs underneath your chin again, dabbing your wound with the cloth, and you’re too focused on his mood to even notice the sting. A minute passes by, and you’re sure it’s clean by now, but he seems to be on autopilot, jaw clenched and eyes both focused in on what he’s doing and glazed over at the same time.

“Dean,” you say gently, placing your free hand on top of his, stilling his movements and pulling him out of his trance. “I think it’s clean.”

Silence, except for the rain and the radio, which is quietly playing Is This Love by Whitesnake (not usually what this station plays, but it’s 2 a.m. and you figure they probably save the sappy 80s songs for this time of night).

And then, “You can’t do that.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Do what?”

“Scare me like that. I didn’t – I thought –” he shakes his head, dropping his hand and placing the gauze back in the kit, along with the rubbing alcohol, before closing it and shoving it back under the seat. “Just – you can’t do that.”

“Dean, the storm came out of nowhere. We’ve split up on hunts so many –”

“And it’s never my idea!” he interrupts.

“What do you want me to say, Dean!? ‘I’m sorry that God decided to flood the earth again while we were out hunting werewolves’!? I am fine , okay? I can handle –”

He cups your face in his cold hands, careful to avoid the fresh cut on your cheek. “I don’t doubt that you can handle yourself. But I can’t lose you, do you get that?” His face is inches away from yours, and the flashlight slips out of your hands and onto the floor as your breath catches in your throat. The radio starts playing the all-too familiar beginning chords of Night Moves , and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod. Dean tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

“I know,” you reply breathily. You place your hand over his again. “You won’t, De.”

The corner of his mouth lifts up into a brief half smile – one that you would have missed had you not been watching his every move. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip with a feather-light touch, and all you can hear is the radio and the rain.

“Your lips are freezing,” he comments, not-so-subtly (in true Dean fashion).

“Shame there’s no way to warm them,” you whisper back, biting back a smile.

“Hm,” he smirks, leaning in. “I can think of a way.”

You close your eyes as his lips meet yours, instantly sending warmth back into your body. Night Moves is still playing, and you ignore the irony as you kiss him back like not freezing to death depends on it. It’s not your first kiss with Dean, but it’s the first one that feels like it really means something, like you could be more than just friends who hook up occasionally. His hands move from your face to your jacket, unzipping it before he helps peel it off your body, your wet skin making everything a thousand times harder. He carelessly throws it into the front seat before his lips move to your neck and he works on getting his own top layer off. He finds your sweet spot right under your ear, one that sends warm shivers down your spine, and then his hands are back on your body, finding their way underneath your soaked shirt, trailing up your sides. His palms feel warm against your skin, and you don’t know if it’s the heat blasting through the vents or the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you’ve never been hotter.

The two of you separate for a few seconds and tug off the remainder of your clothes, everything landing in a nice pile on the front seat — muddy boots included. The cleanliness of his car is the last thing Dean is concerned about right now.

You feel a lot more comfortable naked — meaning, you’re only wet where you want to be now — and you lean back in the seat, your head resting against the door, as Dean hovers over you, taking you in. The flashlight on the ground was your only source of light with the moonlight blocked out by the storm still raging outside.

“You’re beautiful,” he states, not like an opinion, but like it’s an undeniable fact. Like if you were to look up ‘beautiful’ in the dictionary right now you’d find a picture of your face.

You smile. “Thank you.”

His finger traces your jaw bone, his thumb gently outlines the scrape on your cheek. “I don’t think it’s gonna scar,” he says. You love it when he’s like this: pure and unfiltered, saying exactly what he’s thinking when he’s thinking it.

You chuckle softly. “Good. Be real ugly if it did.”

His expression turns serious. “No it wouldn’t.” He states that like it’s a fact too, and you have no choice but to accept it.

“Okay. It would be pretty badass, I guess,” you concede.

He smiles and nods, leaning down to kiss you softly, quickly, before pulling back and whispering, “Yeah, it would.”

He trails his kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbone, and you catch the next song on the radio — Feels Like the First Time — and roll your eyes and try not to laugh because of course . You’re brought back to the present when Dean’s mouth wraps around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud as your hands instantly come to grip his wet hair.

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arching off the leather seat, and he chuckles softly before releasing you with a ‘pop’.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes again, but they quickly close as he moves to give your right nipple some attention, gently pinching the other between his thumb and pointer finger. Your moans cause his cock to twitch, and you feel it against your inner thigh, imagining what it must look like right now.

“Please,” you beg, and you both know exactly what for. He gladly returns his lips to yours, before nestling himself comfortably (or as comfortable as one can get in the backseat of a ‘67 Chevy) between your legs, still damp and sticky from the rain. He kisses you hard as he enters you slowly, and you moan into his mouth as you adjust to his size. Nothing’s ever felt so good.

“Jesus,” he breathes, pulling away momentarily and bracing himself with one hand on the fogged up window as he bottoms out and stays there, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him, and right now, you are. “Mm, fuck .” He starts to move, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, his hot breath and soft groans doing nothing to help stall the tightening coil in your abdomen. “‘m never letting you out of my sight again,” he whispers.

All you can do is nod; he feels so good, you never want him to stop.

“Can’t fuckin’ lose you,” he mumbles, his face coming to hover above yours as he cups your unscathed cheek with his free hand. “You hearin’ me?” He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

You nod again, a little more aggressively this time. “I know, Dean. You won’t,” you reassure him through unsteady breaths. It’s your turn to shake your head. “You won’t.”

You hadn’t noticed his thrusts speeding up, too lost in your emotions until he hits a spot that you didn’t even know you had.

“Oh, fuck ,” you hiss, arching your back. “Fuck, right there.”

He listens, picking up the pace ever so slightly, his lips on your neck again, his heavy pants in your ear. “Shit, sweetheart, you feel so good.” He’s breathing so hard it’s barely audible, but you hear it clear as day, and it’s what brings you to the edge.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna —”

“Me too, me too.”

And then you’re tensing underneath him as a wave of pleasure washes over you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you up, and he’s holding himself up on trembling forearms, desperately trying not to collapse on top of you as the exhaustion from the day finally hits you both like a tidal wave. Through heavy breathing you notice that it’s still pouring outside — probably deeming you stuck here on this no name road until it lets up — and that You Shook Me All Night Long is playing on the radio, and you can’t help but giggle softly and shake your head.

“What?” he questions, confused.

“I think both the weather and the radio are demanding that we go again.”

TAGLIST(S)

If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name below, it’s because Tumblr won’t let me tag you!

FOREVERS: @writercole // @makeadealwithdean // @slamminmine // @impala1967dwinchester // @wayward-dreamer // @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan // @deandreamernp // @kitkatd7 // @thewritersaddictions // @foxyjwls007 // @kyjey // @boeshaneboy // @besas-stuff // @babypink224221 // @stoneyggirl2 // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @samsgirl93 // @alwayssnivellus // @simpfoegeorge // @ajordan2020

SUPERNATURAL: @deans-baby-momma // @cookiechipdough // @roonyxx // @jassackles // @roseblue373 // @redbarn1995

DEAN WINCHESTER: @perpetualabsurdity // @lyarr24 // @solarrexplosion // @rach5ive // @akshi8278 // @pink-sparkly-witch // @emoryhemsworth // @whore4romance // @themerc-with-a-mouth

You can join my taglist(s) here!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction

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vixensbrainrotts · 5 months

Text

Healing slowly — Manjiro <Mikey> Sano

Content: undefined fluff

Warnings: none

Vixen‘s two cents: This has been on my mind for a while now. If you enjoy my content, don’t be afraid to let me know and remember that my requests are open if you have an idea (im having a little bit of writers block atm).

Draken has noticed that Mikey has gotten so much better ever since you came around, how much livelier he looks and sounds and how much less he feels he has to visit to make sure Mikey’s alive. Because he has you now, and Draken knows that it’s time for him to take a step back from Mikey and let him learn to love you right.

Draken has started noticing it a while ago. How much brighter Mikey‘s skin looked, how much more genuinely he smiled, how much more enthusiastic he was about most of anything, really, hell, he even smelled better now! It took him by genuine surprise when Mikey started mentioning you, speaking shyly of how the two of you met and how Mikey seems a bit fonder of you than most. Ken thought it was just a temporary crush, nothing too important, nothing too major.

How wrong he was though, seeing that it came to the point that Mikey would come late to his own gang meetings, spend his monthly allowance on things like chocolates, flowers, cards and trinkets to gift you. It was the way that Mikey seemed to suddenly care for his appearance, ditching the overgrown hair and opting for something a little shorter, more wolffish (you mentioned you liked the cut once upon a time, he remembered). It was the way that he would care that his clothes weren’t creased, that his shoes weren’t stained, that his face was in-tact and all such casualties. It’s the way that Mikey started polishing his bike even more obsessively than before, nearly burning a hole into the rag he used with how vigorously he was rubbing it.

The first time Ken met you, he was in disbelief. Mikey, Majiro Sano, that fucking dumbass bagged YOU? How. There was no way. The disbelief led to many a questions about payment and bribery, even considering intimation and threats to be the base of your relationship. But once he talked to you, got to know you, Ken fully understood. You cared for Manjiro, made sure he was on top of his tasks, made sure that he was more aware of his own needs and fulfilled those too. Mikey cared for you too, encouraged you to take breaks, to be aware of your surroundings and making you losen up a little sometimes, making your day-to-day life just a little more exiting.

You two together were like birds of a feather. A perfectly balanced scale, your relationship was tangent to perfection. This unexpected but wonderful revelation allowed Draken to spend some of his new-found free time alone. Completely alone, nobody bothering him type of alone. There was nothing in his way, no second opinion of what he wanted to do, no nagging about the weather, and no plunderingwallet for snacks and othersuch trivial things.

Draken, whilst astounded by your dynamic, was still a little skeptic. Sure you’ve stuck with Mikey for a bit now, but how would you handle the real struggles? Mikey was a piece of work, a real lot of effort, Draken had the first hand experience to back it up. Surely you would be scared off, surely you’d try your best but eventually fall flat at the overwhelming, almost overbearing nature that Mikey surrounded occasionally. But just like in terms of the first impression, Ken was wrong. You stuck with Manjiro through the depressive episodes, through the bursts of aggression, through the phases of silent treatment, and even when he pushed you away completely, claiming that he couldn’t handle being in a relationship anymore.

Whilst the two of you had rough patches, you never broke. You bother were dedicated to each other and resilient to your relationship. It was complete mutualism with you two, no amount of strain could break the bond you two built. Ken found himself admiring your relationship, silently thankful of the security that you gave one another, and of the transformation Manjiro had gone through. He was capable of his own now. Not that he wasn’t before you, but you had encouraged him to target his weaker spots, foddering growth and comprehension of mind, emotions and expression of such.

Ken was eternally thankful of you, and has recognized that he was no longer a vital part of Mikey’s survival. Manjiro had you now.

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x you #mikey x reader #manjiro sano #sano mikey manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo revengers sano manjiro #manjiro x y/n

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cxtori · 6 months

Text

Uramichi Omota ✮ Blessing

Summary: based off of this ask. thank you @adelulugirl, i hope i did your idea justice! 🫶🏽

wc: 1.9k

Genre: fem reader, established relationship, fluff

Warnings: n/a, possibly a bit ooc? i like to think the Uramichi would be more open and playful with his partner

Cat's note: this is my first fic request to ever receive 🥹 so happy that it was such a cute scenario with one of my favorite characters. enjoy!

Uramichi opens the apartment door carefully, wincing when the hinges screech loudly, betraying his desire to enter quietly.

He steps inside and closes the door before leaning against it, dropping his bag and slipping off his shoes with a heavy sigh. It had been in his plans to be home about 3 hours earlier, but unfortunately for him, his boss had other plans. A last minute “post-work dinner party” had been planned and, much to Uramichi’s dismay, it wasn’t one he could sneak his way out of.

He’d much rather have been home with you, cuddled on the couch, watching your favorite show, but instead he’d found himself at a barbecue place, surrounded by the scent of smoke and alcohol, his ears ringing with poor Utano’s crying and Usahara’s obnoxious bantering.

Every attempt he made to leave would fail when someone’s arm was thrown over his shoulder or Derekida’s attention was suddenly directed at him. And so, he remained. At least until everyone was drunk enough to not notice him slipping out the door.

Fast forward three hours of social torture and here he was, tired, grumpy, and, as usual, dreading having to go to work the next morning.

It had been an exhausting day and an even more exhausting evening, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with your warmth to lull him to sleep. He glances at the little, decorative clock you’d bought to put in the living room, one of the many hints to your presence in his life that have appeared since you moved in.

9pm. Typically, you would still be awake, but typically Uramichi would be home by now as well. Without him there to keep you up, you were likely in bed asleep, exhausted by your own stressful workday.

He steps quietly towards the bedroom, poking his head in to scope out the situation. He finds his suspicions to be correct when he sees you wrapped tightly in the sheets, passed out and unaware of his presence.

He walks closer to the bed, admiring the way the moonlight illuminates the soft, relaxed look upon your face as you sleep peacefully. His hand reaches for your face, calloused fingers grazing your cheek as he tucks a few stray hairs behind your ear, and a smile spreads across his lips. Voices suddenly echo in his head when he remembers a conversation with his co-workers from mere hours ago.

He was zoned out, mindlessly watching the bubbles in his beer swirl around as the others spoke about he-didn’t-know-what. It was the only way he was going to get through this dinner, so he let his mind wander to anywhere but here. His attention was only brought back when he heard your name mentioned.

“Yeah, honestly, finding out about Y/n was a bit of a shock,” Utano said, dragging Uramichi’s thoughts back to earth. He looked up to find his fellow cast-member’s eyes all on him, like they were expecting something.

“Hmm, what?” He said, completely lost as to why he was suddenly the center of attention.

“Your girl, Y/n!” Usahara said as he jabbed at Uramichi’s side with is elbow. “We were just talking about how surprising it was when you introduced us to her.”

“We wondered if you would ever find someone,” Utano muttered, earning nods and hums from everyone around the table.

“Is that seriously something you were worried about?” Uramichi exasperated, looking at everyone around the table as they all gave him small, sympathetic smiles that wordlessly answered his question. His eyes eventually landed on Kumatani who, despite his lack of a smile, Uramichi could tell agreed. “You too?”

“It… was a mild concern,” Kumatani admitted, making Uramichi sigh defeatedly.

“We thought you’d be alone forever!” Iketeru chimed in his usual happy and upbeat tone, not quite fitting the statement he’d made.

“And I still can’t believe you got a girlfriend before me,” Usahara cried, earning annoyed glares from everyone.

Uramichi had rolled his eyes at his friend’s comments, even though he'd be lying if he said he hadn't feared the same. You were a blessing in his eyes. One that he wasn't confident he would ever receive. But here you were, against all odds and doubts. And now he couldn’t imagine life without you.

The weight of exhaustion hits him suddenly as he feels his eyelids grow heavy, begging him to crawl into bed and join you in your peaceful sleep.

He steps away from the bed and begins digging blindly through his drawers in search of sleepwear, pulling out a shirt and pants. He does his best to get dressed quietly so to not wake you, opting to leave his clothes in the floor than stumble to the hamper. But when his foot smacks against the bedframe and a pained yelp instinctively escapes his lungs, he knows it was a pointless effort.

He holds his breath (and whimpers) when he hears you shuffle under the sheets, and his heart drops when you soon sit up in the bed.

“Michi?” Your voice whispers, heavy with sleep and confusion. You rub your eyes and blink at him in an attempt to clear your blurry vision.

Uramichi sighs and picks up his clothes from the floor, deciding he might as well put them away now. It’s not like his blind stumbling will wake you up anymore than he already has.

“What time is it?” You mumble as you squint at the clock, unable to make it out. Uramichi’s gaze follows yours to the digital clock that has made a new home on his nightstand rather than his bed. Another small sign of your presence.

“9:08,” he says as he walks back to the bed, though cautiously. He sits down beside you, resting his back against the cool surface of the headboard. “Much later than I expected to be back. Sorry about that.” You shake your head, dismissing his apology.

“Don’t apologize. I know how those ‘mandatory parties’ can be,” you say with a light giggle. Your laughter eases Uramichi’s worry and brings a smile to his face, as it always does.

You move closer to him to rest your head on his chest as your arms snake around him in a tight hug. He instinctively raises his arm and drapes it over you, enveloping you in his warmth. You sit there in silence for a moment, hearing nothing but the steady beating of his heart as he drags a hand tenderly over your hair.

These were the moments you both enjoyed the most. The peace, the quiet, the way you would silently express your love and care for each other with nothing but simple actions. It’s what made the long and stressful days worth it.

“How was work?” You ask softly.

“The usual,” Uramichi sighs, his voice vibrating in his chest against your ear. “I think I tweaked something in my back again, but that’s nothing new. How about you?”

“Ugh, terrible,” you groan. “I got yelled at by three customers today. Told my boss I never want to work in the clothing department ever again,” you huff, being just a little bit overdramatic, drawing a quiet laugh from Uramichi.

His arm around you loosens as he shifts under you, moving away to look you in the eyes with a sweet smile that never fails to give you butterflies. That soft, genuine upturn of his lips that, to others, was a rare occurrence, but to you, was a gift you got to receive every single day.

He leans down to you and places his lips tenderly against your forehead, a simple but loving gesture that pulls a giggle from your lips. As he begins to pull away, you quickly wrap your arms around his neck to prevent him from moving any further before pressing your lips against his forehead, goofily returning the action. You eventually pull back and laugh in a way that makes him go weak.

His eyes flit over your content, sleep-laden face, and his mind reflects once more on the earlier conversation.

Before meeting you, he had finally come to terms with the possibility of never finding “the one”. And then you appeared, making his fear disappear. Words couldn’t begin to express how grateful he was for you, he just hoped you understood.

His heart twists in such a joyous way that it’s almost painful. It’s ironic really. How something can make you so happy that it causes you to ache. Of all the things he’s experienced that he thought might end him, none were as bad as this. You would be the death of him, he was sure of it.

He moves his face closer to you, his lips grazing just over yours as though to tease you.

“I really love you, you know,” he whispers, his lips bumping against yours with every syllable, sending a sharp chill though your body.

“Of course, I know that, silly,” you whisper back. You drag your hand up his torso, fingers lightly tracing his defined muscles as they make their way up to his neck, tangling in his hair.

You tug on his hair in a silent plea and he obliges, his lips connecting with yours in a warm, tingling kiss. Your lips move slowly, almost lazily, and yet it still feels energizing. You part, your light pants filling the otherwise silent room.

“I love you too,” you say, bringing your hands from around his neck to his face, brushing back his messy hair and cupping his cheeks in your palms. He raises a hand, wrapping it around your wrist as his thumb strokes over it.

He leans his body against yours, carefully pushing you back into the pillows before kissing you once more. His tongue swipes over your lips before giving them a light nip, making your mind go numb. His hands slide down your sides to your hips, grasping them firmly as he pulls you closer to him.

His lips move from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses behind. He caresses the sensitive skin behind your ear, lightly enough to tickle and causing you to laugh.

"Michi!" You scold jokingly and smack him on the shoulder. He gives his own soft laugh and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you and resting his body on top of yours.

“My little blessing,” he mumbles absentmindedly against your neck. You give a contented hum as you slip your hands under his shirt and drag them up and down his back, your nails scratching gently at his skin.

Comfortable silence encircles you again and exhaustion pulls at your eyelids. However, with your boyfriend almost crushing you, sleep is just out of reach.

“As comfortable as this is…" You start with a pat on the man's back. "I must say, you’re kinda impairing my ability to breathe."

"Oh," Uramichi says as he clumsily shifts himself to lay beside you, keeping his arms entwined around your waist. "Sorry," he says, and you can tell by his voice that sleep has almost claimed him as well.

You turn in his arms to face him, enamored by the way the moonlight highlights his handsome features, reflecting in his silky, brown hair. To him, you were his blessing, but little did he know that you felt the same way about him. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this man. All you know is that you would do it a million times over if it meant it would lead you back to him.

“Goodnight,” you say and stretch to place another quick peck on his lips. But you don’t receive a response, a soft snore telling you that he was no longer conscious. It had certainly been a long day.

You smile to yourself and close your eyes as you press your face into his chest, letting your own body finally give in to the sleep it so desired.

©Cxtori 2023 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate. reblogs much appreciated!

#☆彡cat writes #𖥸requests #uramichi omota #uramichi oniisan #life lessons with uramichi oniisan #uramichi x reader #uramichi omota x reader

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nebbyy · 13 days

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Lester Papadopoulos/Apollo x reader - It's Over, isn't It?

A/N: okay so a few weeks ago I was listening to the song “It’s Over isn’t it” form the Steven Universe series and this scenario came to my mind, so I thought I’d just make it a fic! For this piece I didn’t see a point in assigning a gender to the reader, so we go with gender neutral all the way😎😎(neither your godly parent is specified since it doesn’t really add anything to the plot, so you can choose whichever you prefer)

PART TWO IS HERE

Warning: insecurity, jealousy, angst (WITH comfort tho), mentions of suggestive activities

Word count: 3209

You kinda hate yourself right now, and you hate yourself because you are so angry right now.

Well maybe angry is an exaggeration, but still, you’re really, really upset.

And you know you should be anything but upset right now. I mean, the love of your life finally has the chance to go back to his home in the Olympus, regain his honor and his status as a god. Those were all good things that you should be ecstatic about, right?

Well, wrong.

Just thinking of it made you feel like you could throw up at any moment. Thinking about the fact that Apollo. Because, what will be of Lester, your Lester?

Your whole relationship had started because he wasn’t Apollo. He wasn’t the tall, tan, handsome and all mighty God of the Sun; he was just a normal teen, whose only things that made him stick out were his acne, his clumsiness and a somewhat nice voice. His mortal condition didn’t even give him a single chance to act in his usual exaggerated, narcissistic self. He had to start off from the start, build a personality that wasn’t based on his godly qualities, but on something more real.

And in that situation he found himself in, with his new eyes he had seen you, and you truly seemed like a deity to him.

How could you be anything less to the rest of the world, he thought. You were your godly parent’s greatest hero, you were liked and admired by most campers both because of your victories and your looks. And he spent oh so many nights fantasizing about taking you back with him in Olympus, giving you the godly status that should be rightfully yours. But hell, with the body he’d found himself in he’d barely the courage to come up to you to talk.

He told you so many times how absolutely surprised he was when he found out that you actually liked him back, even if he looked like any 17 year old loser, his actual words. And you remembered too, how his voice was so shaky as he tried to muster up a coherent sentence, how his cheeks shone a bright red, how his hands were trembling as you took them into yours and his palms sweating. But in your mind, that was more beautiful than any sonnet, any haiku, any poem, any grandiose, Apollo-like gesture. Because that was Lester, not Apollo; and in your eyes, Lester’s awkwardness was what made him stand out, because it was purely genuine.

Now ever so often you wonder, if he used to feel like you’re feeling right now, like you’re no match to the person you love. You look at your reflection in the mirror of the bathroom, and the mean joke that played your mind made you highlight all the flaws you could spot in yourself. All things that a god could never accept in their lover. You feel so wrong, so flawed that you just wish you could turn yourself into mud and reform your appearance completely.

Gods, you’re being ridiculous right now, you think, you just want to slap yourself in the face and yell at your reflection to get a grip goddamnit! You’re one of the greatest heroes of your time, you survived two wars, you can’t possibly draw the line at a failed relationship with a god.

At one point someone might think: but why are you so opposed to the idea that your boyfriend is finally becoming a god once again? How ungrateful can you be??

But the point is, you know damn well that the whole point of the creation of Lester was forcing Apollo into a form that would’ve been the total opposite of who he is.

Because Apollo is naturally flirty and superficial, he loves to love and be loved, and he pursues anything and everything that he finds beautiful. But he got bored easily of his love conquers, hence why he has so many kids. So in your mind, it was only natural that as soon as he was back to normality, he’d grow tired of you and move to the next mortal that piqued his interest, maybe even leaving you a single parent to a new demigod.

That’s why you couldn’t stop that nagging feeling deep into your core, as you walked out of your cabin, hearing all the girls already speculating about how beautiful, handsome, shiny and dashing Apollo will be once he goes back to his form. “And who knows, maybe he’ll set his eyes on some of the friends he made in here” squealed a girl, from which cabin you did not know nor care. Her friend replied: “Yeah I mean, ain’t no way he’s gonna keep staying with the same partner forever. I mean, come on, he’s Apollo!” They both giggled like school girls, then kept gossiping about something else, but you did not care enough to keep eavesdropping their whole conversation.

You really hated yourself for being like this right now.

Of course, you know that those two girls meant no harm, it wasn’t their fault if they knew just as much as you did about Apollo’s tendencies. And about that you’re already came to terms with, but there’s something else you hate yourself for…

You stopped reaching out to him. Or even worse, you even started to avoid him.

Not also him, but your friends and siblings as well. You closed yourself off of everyone else in your life, opting to spend your free days in Camp by yourself, whether it is in your cabin, sparring or all alone in your favorite spot in the forest.

Which is exactly where you’re directed to right now, as you put your headphones in your ears, wasting no time to press play and then abuse the volume up button to muffle any sound from the outside. You walk past the two girls, past another group of guys that were training with one another, and past your friends too, who you didn’t noticed as they were calling and waving at you to join them for a quick snack, leaving them rather confused and preoccupied as it seemed that you were stuck in a trance, locked out in another dimension of your own.

You didn’t even see Lester excusing himself from the group to subtly start following you wherever you were going.

It’s a quiet place, the one in the forest, protected by a thick layer of trees and bushes that makes it hard to reach it; but it’s worth all the climbing and scratches for the beautiful sight of a clear waterfall that fell right into a circular body of water, surrounded by a rather big field of moss, so soft and fresh to lay on during the hot summer nights.

And so you did, letting yourself fall on that natural mattress, then closing your eyes to feel the light breeze on your exposed skin, and let the words of the song that’s blasting at full volume at the moment fill your ears, although you can barely focus on what they’re saying

It really seems unfair, all of this. That you thought you had fallen in love not with a god, but with a boy. Somehow forgetting that boy and god mixed in Lester, two sides of the same coin.

And maybe he forgot too, because every time the two of you were together, he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to think of the responsibilities that were waiting for him. With you, he forgot about his lost and very much missed abs and tan, he forgot about his chariot and his comfortable place in Olympus. Hell, you even made him forget about all his old lovers. It was really only you in his eyes, just as he was in yours. If only he’d ever told you all of this though…

Your mind keeps swirling in a million thoughts, until it fixates on one memory in particular.

You and him, alone on that very same spot in the forest. In a similar situation as you were now, too, with your crappy phone playing music softly in the background, as the the two of you laid together, one next to the other. You turn around to look at him briefly, only to find him already looking at you. “What, do I have something on my face or..” he just shake his head with the most lovestruck eyes you’d ever seen, batting his eyes slowly before looking at you once again, “I just really want to kiss you right now”.

Your eyes widen. His eyes widen. Did he really just say THAT?

Neither of you were sure how or why, thinking back to it, you wonder if it was his godly charm poking at the back of his head. But that didn’t matter at the time, the future in which he came back to his godly state seemed so far from you, it wasn’t even an option in your head.

Nevertheless, after the initial shock from his words, you silently answered him with a slow, almost numbed movement of the head, nodding slightly, almost scared that if you moved to fast you would’ve whisked him away, or that he could’ve changed his mind already.

But that nod was all that he needed before crashing his lips against yours, one of his hands flying to grab the side of your head, while the other stayed put on its place against the ground to keep him from falling on top of you.

The kiss was an absolute mess: teeth clashing, nose bumping against each other,... but it was perfect that way to you. You broke away from each other for a brief moment to catch your breaths, and you just look into each other’s eyes. With chests heaving, breaths mixing, you both started laughing, if only for a moment, a laugh of disbelief at what had just happened.

But that laugh didn’t last long before he moved his head closer once again, this time more slowly, more confidently. The kiss was in fact much less messy, your lips found their place against each other, the panic from before had morphed into pure butterflies in your stomach and fireworks in your eyes.

After a minute at most, you broke apart once again, but only for Lester to reposition himself on top of you in a more comfortable position. Your bodies closer than ever, you could feel everything of him….

What happened after still makes your cheeks flush red at the mere thought, but it also causes a frown to form on your face. Those times, when it was just the two of you are over. Maybe it was just a time of crisis that brought you two together, the shock from a morta perspective might have caused him to cling onto the closes person he could find. You can’t help but imagine Leste- Apollo in that moment, laying in the clouds of Olympus in a much similar scenario, maybe with a beautiful nymph or a smaller deity, or a mortal he laid his eyes on while he was on this earth-

“There you are! I should’ve known that if you’re not around you’re definitely in here.” If it were a normal, mortal voice, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it over the deafening high volume of the music blasting in you ears. But it wasn’t a mortal voice.

It was loud, it was melodic, it resonated in the air like the echo of the most beautiful of songs,…

You wouldn’t even need to turn around to know that that voice came from no other than Apollo. That’s right, he probably came back to his true form already. You can’t even imagine what a scene that would’ve been, to see the handsomely perfect god walking around Camp Half Blood, how many boys and girls had probably followed him around drooling over the sight of him.

You wish you could just stay put, coldly dismiss him and let him go for what probably is the rest of your life and his eternity. But, curiosity gets the best of you, and you can’t help but turn around tentatively, eager to see what your boyfriend really looks like.

Your mouth quite literally hits the floor at the sight. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always found Lester really attractive, but this.

This was something beyond the concept of handsome or beautiful.

This, him, was beyond what humans can perceive and comprehend.

Yes, you knew that his skin was tanned, but as he stood in front of you it seemed as if his body was made of bronze.

And yes, you also knew that his hair was blonde, but that didn’t make them justice. They flew, like rays of sun through a clouded sky.

Of his eyes you knew nothing about, but you were pretty sure at this point that no description could really depict just how deep, bright, captivating, alluring, even, they really were.

Your mouth quite literally hit the floor at the sight. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always found Lester really attractive, but this.

This was something beyond the concept of handsome or beautiful.

This, him, was beyond what humans can perceive and comprehend.

Yes, you knew that his skin was tanned, but as he stood in front of you it seemed as if his body was made of bronze.

And yes, you also knew that his hair was blonde, but that didn’t make them justice. They flew, like rays of sun through a clouded sky.

Of his eyes you knew nothing about, but you were pretty sure at this point that no description could really depict just how deep, bright, captivating, alluring, even, they really were.

Your throat felt tight, your mouth dry, and your whole body gives you this tingly sensation. With all of your strength, you took a deep breath to try and calm yourself down, before mustering all of your strength to speak without a pathetic shaky voice. “I thought you were going back as soon as you got your body back.“

“Ain’t no way that I wasn’t coming to kiss my beautiful partner goodbye.” He grinned as he swiftly took a seat right by your side, propping himself on his elbow, his eyes never once leaving yours. You swore his smile was intoxicating, you’d say contagious even if the thought that this might’ve been your last moments together didn’t fill your mind with sorrow.

You wanted to protect yourself from this, detach your mind and heart from him before he does it first, leaving you with an aching heart and moving on with his eternal life.

You felt a hand come up to your cheek, holding it softly as the sweetest melody came from his lips, “I’m gonna miss you madly once I’m back there, you know?” At that, you can’t help the deep anger that fills you from inside, a feeling that expresses through icy, stinging words, as you turned your head away from his touch, “I’m sure you’ll move on in no time.”

He frowned. That wasn’t the reaction he expected from you at all, but he didn’t really take it personally, it was so obvious that there was something troubling you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” your voice is louder, a mixture of frustration and anger. But also so much sadness, that can be felt by just how strained the sound that came from your throat is, almost as if you were fighting back tears. You swallow hard, trying to recollect yourself, “I mean that you are a God, I am just a mortal. One of many. I’ve got nothing special to be remembered for, to be remembered by you for the rest of eternity. And Im okay with it, really. Our destinies were never meant to combine, I was just another one of your lovers.” As you spoke those last words you couldn’t help but let the tears flow from your eyes, those who always looked at Lester with a mix of love and mischief, now only filled with a never ending sadness.

Slowly, as to avoid scaring you off, the renewed god took your wet face in his warm hands, pulling you closer and wiping your tears off at the same time. Gently, he spoke: “My love, you couldn’t have said anything more wrong. You are special to me, and I could never forget you. In thousands of years that I’ve existed, no one had ever treated like you did, like I wasn’t a god. Sure, it was temporary and you knew I could’ve incinerated you as soon as I got back to… this.” He looked down, gesturing at his body, a sight for sore eyes that could’ve really made you unfocus on anything were you not so taken by your talk with Apollo at the moment. “But that didn’t stop you from treating me like we were equal. And I hated it, at first. I thought it would be part of my punishment. But as time passed, I realized that being your equal was the highest of honors I could ever get. You’re… you’re crazy strong, incredibly smart, unbelievably beautiful, way too kind for your own good, especially with those brats of the kids in this Camp.”

You giggled at his words, a consistent contrast with your tearful eyes and quiet sobs, “Some of those brats are your children too, genius.” “Well then it must run in the family.” You laughed again while shaking your head, but only for a moment before returning your full attention on the boy in front of you. He took the sign to continue.

“What I’m trying to say is, I don’t think I could ever be able to let you go. Over all the lovers I had through the years, which I’m sure you know are many, you’re the only one that saw me and treated me with true love and care. Not with fearful devotion, never fearing what I was capable of. I only ever saw this kind of love in Sally Jackson, and I mocked Poseidon for letting a mortal like many treat him so casually. But now, now I get it, and to be honest I can’t help but think that you’d deserve to be called a deity far more than many others who already are. Maybe even more than me. So I refuse to ever let go of this blessing that fate has given me. And if in order to do so I have to take your soul and put it on the sky above, to rest as a star forever by my side, so be it. But trust me you’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

You crumbled like a sand castle at his words, that he spoke with the very same tone, on the very same spot when you still called him Lester, and you promised to stick by each other’s side for the time you had left, only a few months before this whole encounter. You let your head fall into his broad chest, sobbing softly as you desperately clung to him. Your tears weren’t of sadness anymore, but of relief, for you had just been given the confirmation that your lover was still yours.You spent the rest of the night there, cuddling as close to eachother as possible as you rested in peace.

The morning after, at dawn, when he had to officially go back to his daily duties, he begrudgingly got up from his place in your arms, placing butterfly kisses on your arms and neck, careful not to wake you. He left a little not right next to you, one that read:

“I had to go, didn’t want to wake your pretty face this early in the morning. Meet me here at dusk tomorrow, Forever yours, A.”

It made you smile, seeing that note as soon as you opened your eyes, almost made you forget the lack of your boyfriend next to you,… and the yelling of your friends and siblings calling for your name in the distance.

You wasted no time walking towards those voices, and when they asked you just where the hell have you been all night, you just smiled and brushed it off, but everyone noticed how your usual bright self had mysteriously came back after days of brooding.

Hours later, you were calmly eating dinner with the other campers, laughing and talking and eating seemingly decent food. You were totally clueless as to where exactly Apollo was, but you guessed he was on his chariot, on his way to let the sun set and go to your secluded spot. But little did you know, he was in neither of those places. He was actually walking up to Zeus’ throne, tall and proud as he respectfully bowed to his father. “Apollo, I see it took you no time to get used to your old life once more. I trust you have learned your lesson.”

“Indeed, father. And I came here to thank you for it all. It was… better than I expected.” Zeus lifted a brow suspiciously, eyeing his son as if trying to make out what’s in his mind just by his appearance. “Mmh I hardly believe that you only came here to thank me for your punishment.” “Heh, you’re not wrong, father. I came here to make a request.”

“Depends. What is it that you desire?”

“How do you make a demigod immortal?”

#lester papadopoulos #my fic #angst #fluff #gender neutral reader #apollo #lester papadopoulos x reader #writers on tumblr #trials of apollo #percy jackson #meg mccaffrey #pjo apollo #apollo x reader #apollo x you #the trials of apollo

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sonicjustbecause · 2 months

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About Sonic

I never talked extensively about Sonic and what I think about him overall, despite him being my favourite (I see more Shadow as some mystical guy, alive certainly, yet somewhat more like a guide or a protector and Sonic's Shadow, but that's for another time as I talked about him a lot).

There is still this silly battle between Sonic fans on who is your favourite take of the character. The character has been inconsistent, in videogame too, even if we only take game/Japanese media (An example? Adventure Sonic is, at least the way I perceive him, mysterious and whimsical, joyful but slightly grumpy. Unleashed Sonic is calm, balanced, a bit quiet overall. The thing that remains consistent is that he is kind earthed and optimistic. Most of the time.

Even people who tell how Sonic is supposed to be interpret him very differently from each othes adn from the games, the way they make him talk or act in certain situation in their stories is not the same I see in videogames.

For Sonic unleashed I saw the whole cutscenes both in English and in Japanese, so...

Not that this bother me, as I previously said, since is a team who work on Sonic is normal different people have a different perception of the character, is based on our personal experiences. And in next years things will change over and over.

Let's talk about how is shown in various media, not necessarily Japanese since they influence each others (example the chili dogs).

SatAM, AoStH.

Aosth/SatAM Sonic was most likely the most mischievous incarnation of the character, since he apparently took joy to make fun of Eggman but also to the french coyote, Antoine, who is a sort of 'Luigi' in this show. I remember him as being creative, impatient, bold and very self confident, but not evil.

I didn't watch Sonic underground. It was aired in Italy but I don't know when. I can say nothing

OAV Sonic

Adventure Sonic and X Sonic traits start to appear here. This Sonic is aloof, whimsical and grumpy and not as joyful as we are used to see him. but is heart is ih the right place, of course.

Adventure Sonic

If I saw Sonic OVA only in latest years, I can say I played the two Adventure games early in the '00s. This Sonic feels to me as whimsical, elusive, mysterious (especially in Adventure 2, it is perceived as such especially by Shadow "Tell me, who are you?" and Sonic's answer is rather enigmatic, is also there you start to realize you know nothing about Sonic, where he comes from etc... you know the others better), still a bit grumpy yet way more joyful than the one from the OVA, a happy guy I would say.

In particular I loved the expressions in Sonic Adventure. Here come the folded ears you often see in Prime.

X Sonic

The most quiet of all. Elusive, still a bit whimsical and grumpy if you don't take him the right way, but this doesn't mean you lost him. Socially awkward and unaware of this, I think sometimes he is leaning in the Asperger territory sometimes. Joyful, optimistic, gentle, sometimes melodramatic and funny but he can get very serious when needed.

Archie Sonic

Archie Sonic is one I don't like much. He's self centered, most of his monologues tell how awesome he is, how good looking he is, how fast he is, well, 90% about himself and it go moldy soon. And can be a jerk toward his friends sometimes. Unlike other versions, he's never too serious.

Fleetway Sonic.

Unlike other sonic incarnation, Fleetway Sonic is a jerk, a bully, he constantly makes offensive jokes toward his friends, including Tails (in other media he is more protective toward Tails). He seems to care or express nice though only when his friends are not around. Is hard to read those comics. So far the worst Sonic

IDW Sonic

Not completely bad, not completely good. He got some traits from Archie Sonic. IDW Sonic seems to me the less sincere and less carefree of all. Like, Sonic we know is mostly feeling oriented. He can be thoughful when needed, but mostly he does what he feels is right rather than what he thinks is right. IDW Sonic is well known especially for his obsession of giving a second chance (and then a third, a four) to all his opponents. That is a thing Goku does and is fine because is true to himself. But Sonic is not like that. Sonic is not so merciful, he is a kind hearted character but there is still a red line and he tends to be wary toward those who don't deserve his trust, like Eggman. He forgives his enemies. After they show they're wort deserving forgiving, not before, unlike IDW Sonic. IDW Sonic is also cunning and can be manipulative, that's unique to this version. You can see the true sonic only when he is alone. Then he is more like himself, in his monologues about his friends, and how much he worries about them or appreciate them. Also his opinion of himself is not as high as the one we see in Archie comics. He is overall aloof.

Unleashed Sonic

This one is among the most gentle and down to Earth Sonic I've ever seen. He is slightly quiet and never a jerk. Instead he is fully supportive and encouraging toward his new friend Chip who is clumsy, despite being a god.

Frontiers Sonic

Sonic's personality changed again. He is still kind hearted, brave and strong. But compared tho before he is more mature, thoughful and slightly melancholic. He smiles less and I don't see his joyful exictment anymore. He just smiles when happy.

Boom Sonic

Sonic is usually elusive. Not in Sonic Boom. I perceived this incarnation as very playful and carefree, although an attention seeker.

Movie Sonic

Oh... this is one that goes through a character arc. He is shown to be a good hearted, hyperactive and lonely kid. He is very playful and talkative yet not gossipy. He talks alot just to not feel alone and took the bad habit. Once he found a family and some living being to talk with at times however, is shown he is not as sociable as you may assume by the way he lets his tongue run. He doesn't trust so easily people he meets the first time, as is shown with Tails and only later he feels more comfortable to have Tails around and opens up to him.

Prime Sonic

Another that goes into a character arc. Here he got new traits, like clumsiness, low attention span, affectionateness. And old ones like elusiveness. This Sonic is particularly interesting for some of his traits that are hard to spot. He clearly appears to be this impulsive, talkative (yet not gossipy), overconfident kid who trips on his feet and is deemed annoying (I personally don't find him annoying). He loves his friends and is ready to protect them but, before the prism shattering, is shown (and suggested by a conversation between his friends) that he also likes to spend time alone, without people around (here one trait that not many notice). Sonic is aware of his flaws and during his experience in the shatterverse he gets in touch with all of them, either the counterpart of his friends tell him or he realize his mistakes by his own. On the outside he is cheerful, a bit dimwitted sometimes, friendly. But as the serie goes forward, he is more, gloomy and pensive and he fully opens up only to Shadow and only later to the rest of his friends in the shatterspace (including Nine, who first sees through him). In the end of the serie is shown he is more considerate toward his friends and he hold some of his energies back.

What else? This is all what I can think of, I haven't played all the games. I may mention Sonic Cronicles, but there Sonic is the way you want him to be.

To me is hard to choose. As long as is not the one of Archie, IDW or Fleetway, I'm fine with all of them. My favourite might be Adventure Sonic and Prime Sonic.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic prime #sth #sonic boom #sonic adventure #sonic adventure 2 #sonic adventure battle 2 #sa2 #sonic unleashed #sonic frontiers

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of-dragonss · 2 years

Note

Hey hey! I saw your requests were open! Could I get Hanzo with a crush please? (If you don't want to feel free to delete this😅) Hope you have a wonderful day!

of course! i love hanzo sm you dont understand. and friendly reminder i’m a multi franchise account. please read my pinned post for what’ll i’ll write for!

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵

— hanzo shimada x reader

summary: hanzo doesnt know how to deal with a crush, genji is his wing man.

Flustered

Hanzo was always strict and judgmental to everyone around him. People know him to be cold and distant, unwilling to socialize when he deems it’s not needed. But overtime, his relationship with his brother has improved. Finally forgiving himself for what he did long ago. Genji was happy his brother forgave himself and accepted him for what he was now. Yet he was still snappy to those who spoke to him. More so with Cassidy and the junkers. But otherwise, Hanzo seemed to tolerate most Overwatch agents who ran around the base.

One agent in particular got a more softened side of Hanzo. A side of Hanzo that Genji hasn't seen in a long time. He doesn't remember a time Hanzo was sweet to anyone really. But it was a sight to see indeed. Watching Hanzo flush at the attention the agent gave him. The agent in question? Y/n L/n. Genji enjoyed watching the two interact from the sidelines, unseen and unheard. Wondering when his older brother will ask them out. And by the looks of it, Hanzo was too stubborn, or maybe shy? To ask Y/n the question.

“So, when are you going to ask Y/n out on a date?” Genji asked out of the blue, once training was over and they were the last ones in the practice range. Hanzo seemed to falter at the sudden question, releasing the arrow he just knocked on his bow too early, missing the target completely. Genji smiled under his mask at his uncharacteristic behavior, sheathing his sword.

“That is an inappropriate question.” Hanzo scoffed, fixing his posture and reaching for another bow.

“Oh come on, Han. Y/n is my friend, they seem to like you as much as you like them. It’s very obvious you two have feelings for each other. No use denying it.” Genji pressed on, gently resting his left hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, feeling as he tensed up under his sudden touch.

“We are only friends. There’s no other feelings between us.” As stubborn as ever, Genji rolled his eyes and sighed, letting his hand fall from his brothers shoulder.

“Y/n likes you romantically. You like them romantically. Ask them on a date!” Genji exasperated. “I know when they like someone. And it’s not often it happens. Trust me.”

“I do not want to pursue a relationship with them. They deserve far better than me.”

“Like who? Cassidy? Brother, don’t doubt yourself, you’ve come along way. You deserve them as they deserve you. You deserve to be happy and there isn’t anyone else out there who would give you the same happiness as Y/n brings to you.”

Hanzo looked to the ground, now at his side as he took Genji’s words in. A sudden knock at the practice range doors made the two brothers look over to the sudden entrance of the person they were talking about. “I’m so sorry to intrude, but I think I accidentally deleted a file for the next mission? Would you two mind if I look at one of yours? I can’t find Winston anywhere.” An embarrassed smile graced your lips.

Hanzo stood silent for a moment, eyes wide and locked on your figure until Genji softly nudged him to respond. “I can lend you my mission files until you sort it out with Winston.” He coughed, fixing his posture. “I have the details memorized, it will be no trouble.”

“Thank you so much, Han!” A bright smile appeared on your face as you jumped on the heels of your shoes. “I just need to quickly read over the file I’m missing so I won’t take long to read it over!” The smile never left your face as Hanzo began walking towards the practice dummies before Genji quickly stopped him.

“I’ll clean up, brother.” Hanzo could practically see the smile on Genji’s face through his mask. “Ask them.” Genji whispered as Hanzo passed him, walking over to the entrance where you patiently waited for him.

Hanzo sucked in a breath as he reached you, giving you a small, shy smile. “I’ll see you at dinner, Genji!” You called out before leaving the practice range The doors slid shut, starting their trek to the dorm buildings. The first few minutes were silent, until Hanzo cleared his throat, catching your attention.

“I’ve been meaning to ask.” Hanzos face was flushed, reaching down to his neck. “Would you accompany me for tea some day?” As calm and collected Hanzo presented himself, he felt like a child asking out his crush on the school playground.

“Hanzo Shimada, are you asking me out on a date?” You giggled, tilting your head to the side as you looked at him.

“Would you want it to be a date?” He blurted out unconsciously, eyes widening. “It doesn’t have to me a date if you-“ You giggled again, resting a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Hanzo. After this mission. Yeah?” You smiled softly at him. Hanzo’s heart rate sped up, he fears you could feel the warmth radiating off his face.

“Of course.” He smiled, gently taking your hand that’s placed on his shoulder in his larger one, squeezing slightly. Continuing the walk to his room at the dorms to retrieve his mission files for you to look over, hand in hand. Hanzo could thank Genji later.

#hanzo shimada x reader #overwatch x reader #hanzo shimada imagine #i’m so excited for overwatch 2 have y’all seen how fine hanzo is with his sleeveless top are you kidding mEEEEEE #ugh he’s so gorgeous i want him

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whatacaitastrophe · 1 month

Text

If You Were Mine

Summary: Four times Astarion realized he might be in love with Fallon, and the one time he was ready to do something about it, but Gale got there first.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Female), Astarion x Tav (Female)

AO3 Link: Here

Song Inspiration: "Can I Be Him" - James Arthur

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: Pining (so much pining), angst, mentions of past abuse, denial of feelings, realization of feelings, drinking, canon-compliant

“You can kill it can’t you? Like you did the others?” Astarion asked the elven female who stumbled upon him as she emerged from the destruction of the nautiloid crash. The crash that (somehow) Astarion, this elf, and the half-elf and human man who accompanied her, and god knows who else all managed to survive. Astarion had more questions than answers at this point, but he knew one thing: He’d seen this elf walking around the ship, so surely she had something to do with the tadpole that now resided in his brain. Though Astarion was fairly certain that the very same tadpole was the only reason he hadn’t burst into flames yet, so if this elf had something to do with it, maybe he should be thanking her instead of luring her into a trap.

The elf smirked at him, sizing him up, her violet eyes piercing Astarion down to his very soul. “Easily. Stand back.” Yes, if she knew how to kill them, then she must be familiar enough with his abductor’s to have had something to do with it. Astarion could not help himself– his eyes roamed over the elf’s body as she walked past him to assess the threat he’d completely fabricated.

She was beautiful— her tight leather armor clung to the curves of her body like a second skin, and if Astarion was being perfectly honest, he could not remember the last time he laid eyes on a backside that perfect. It was an observation that took him aback because, quite frankly, Astarion also couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared enough to truly notice.

Under Cazador’s control, Astarion just went through the motions. Step one: spout pretty words he didn’t mean to get them back to the palace. Step two: sleep with them so they’d lower their guard. Step three: hand them over to Cazador. Lather, rinse, repeat. Out here though, so far, it appeared as though Astarion was far enough away from Cazador to be free of his control. Perhaps his little stowaway was also the cause for that as well.

Astarion watched the woman carefully as she crept slowly around the corner, waiting for a mind-flayer to appear. She jumped slightly when the boar burst out of the bushes instead and that’s when Astarion struck. The blade of his dagger was against her neck and they were on the ground mere seconds later. “Ah, ah, ah, shhh. Don’t fight it, darling,” Astarion warned her before glancing over to her companions. “Stay back or I’ll slit her throat.”

The dark haired man glared at Astarion, and out of the corner of his eye, Astarion could have sworn he saw fire crackling on the man’s fingertips. A magic caster of some sort— likely a wizard based on his attire. “Do that, and I will incinerate you.”

So it was definitely fire, then, and the protective look in the wizard’s eyes meant he and the woman with Astarion’s blade against her neck were either already romantically involved, or this man wanted them to be. Whatever the case, Astarion just hoped it would keep the wizard from doing anything stupid.

This close to her face, the first thing Astarion noticed was the smattering of freckles across her cheeks— wild and uncoordinated, much like the navy streaks in her raven hair that were falling out of the ponytail atop her head. There was a scar across her nose and cheek, and for a split second, Astarion found himself wondering how she got it. She was even more beautiful up close. What a pity he was probably going to have to kill her.

“I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod.”

The woman had the audacity to shake her head. Astarion’s nostril’s flared. “Don’t lie to me— ah!”

Suddenly their minds were connected, and he was seeing flashes of a life that was not his: a man with the same violet eyes as this woman, bleeding out in her arms. A piece of parchment with a singular name and a pouch jingling with coin sliding across a bar top towards her. A man leering at her, offering to buy her a drink, and agreeing to go upstairs with her. Then, his dead body being dragged toward a balcony before getting tossed into the Chionthar.

Whoever this woman was, she was a paid assassin, and if she hadn’t head-butted him while he was distracted, Astarion probably would have noticed the arousal that accompanied the fear he felt knowing that the only reason he was still alive was because he’d gotten the upper hand, and tackled her to the ground first.

Her name was Fallon, Astarion learned, and the moment she confirmed that she too had been ready to kill him before their tadpoles took them on a trip down memory lane, Astarion decided he would follow her anywhere.

—

Finding Gandrel in the swamp was unexpected. Fallon led them there because she wanted to investigate the hag they’d run into, and the woman she may or may not have been holding hostage, but a wrong turn led their group up a hill and right to the Gur hunter who admitted he was hunting a vampire spawn.

There was no way this man was looking for anybody other than Astarion, and there was no way Gandrel hadn’t been sent by Cazador to find him. Astarion did his best to quell the panic rising within himself— his new companions did not yet know he was a vampire. One word from Gandrel, one mention of Astarion’s name, and his life would probably be forfeit. Fallon had let Astarion do all the talking up to this point, and she either did not notice or did not care as he slowly reached for his dagger.

“I’ve dealt with your kind before, you know,” Astarion said coolly to the hunter as he took a step forward. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, Astarion swiftly grabbed the man by the back of his head and drove the dagger into his eye, smirking as Gandrel gurgled his last breath before dropping lifelessly to the ground. “It wasn’t a good experience.”

Gale, the wizard from the beach, made a horrified noise. Karlach, their fiery new tiefling friend shouted and swore loudly. Fallon, on the other hand, just stared at Astarion in shock. Then, she took a deep breath and let out an exasperated sigh. “Please tell me you had a good reason for doing that.”

Astarion pulled his blade from the dead man’s eye and wiped the blood on his trousers. “The man was dangerous. Trust me, I did us a favor.”

Another exasperated sigh as Fallon closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and her forefinger. “Next time you decide to murder someone, at least warn me before you do it.”

Astarion raised his eyebrow and smirked at her. “I will definitely, probably, consider thinking about it.”

Fallon rolled her eyes at him, but Astarion couldn’t help but notice the amused smile she was trying to suppress— likely to keep Gale and Karlach from freaking out further. For whatever reason, she trusted Astarion. Moreover, she seemed to like him.

That was the moment Astarion decided he was going to seduce Fallon. For protection, of course— certainly not because he actually wanted her. Having Fallon on his side would certainly make things easier if Astarion’s companions ever found out he was a vampire. Yes, survival was all that mattered, he didn’t want her.

Right?

—

Astarion observed the party happening in their camp with a sour look on his face. The bottle of wine he’d swiped from the wagon the tieflings brought with them was…well, it wasn’t the worst wine Astarion had ever had, but it certainly wasn’t good, either. The gratitude from the tieflings was endless. One by one, they all made their way to his tent, profusely thanking him for saving their lives. A few were even emboldened enough by the alcohol to make a pass at Astarion, offering to thank him in a more intimate setting, to which he not-so-politely declined. No, there was only one person Astarion was interested in sleeping with tonight.

It was the perfect opportunity. After he failed to drink her blood while she slept, there was an energy shift in Astarion’s relationship with Fallon. They’d come to an agreement: he could drink her blood once every couple of days to maintain his strength, and he could drink the blood of as many of their enemies as he pleased. The blood of their enemies seemed to be endless, and while it sated Astarion’s hunger well enough (certainly more than the blood of animals), it never left Astarion feeling truly satisfied. The only blood that truly satisfied Astarion these days was Fallon’s. He craved her blood in a way he’d never craved anything, and he could only chalk it up to the fact that she was the first thinking creature Astarion ever drank from. Fallon’s blood was more intoxicating than the finest wine, and Astarion often found himself counting the days until he was once again allowed to press his mouth to her neck and bite the spot that made Fallon’s breath hitch and her heart rate increase.

Not only that, but whenever Astarion flirted with Fallon, she flirted back. Fallon entertained his ridiculous musings about what their companions’ blood might taste like (even if she’d confessed she would take a bite from Gale, of all people, given the chance). She indulged Astarion’s vanity when she caught him fruitlessly looking in a mirror, describing his features to him in great (extremely complimentary) detail. Every conversation Astarion had with the elven woman was planting the seeds for the move he intended to make this evening.

Astarion couldn’t help but admire Fallon as she worked the room, graciously accepting the gratitude from the tieflings and the druid, Halsin, who joined their party after they saved him from the goblin camp.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” The sound of Shadowheart’s voice made Astarion jump slightly, as he’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed that the cleric had made her way over to his tent, and was standing beside him observing the party.

Astarion looked over at Shadowheart, tilting his head. “A lot of this night is ridiculous, so I’m going to need you to be more specific, darling.”

Shadowheart nodded over to Fallon, who was currently laughing at something the bard– Alina, Alanna, Alfira– was saying to her. “The way they’re all falling at her feet,” Shadowheart clarifies. “Do you think she even realizes every single person at this party would take her to bed, if given the opportunity?”

An amused smirk appeared on Astarion’s face, and raised an eyebrow at the cleric. “Even you?”

“Caught that, did you?” She chuckled as she took a long drink from her wine bottle. “Why not? It’s a party, after all. Though I don’t think I’m her type.”

“Fair enough,” He conceded. “To answer your question…if she does realize it, she’s very good at hiding it.” Astarion studied Fallon as she said goodnight to Alfira, leaving the bard with a longing look in her eyes. Fallon looked over to where Astarion and Shadowheart were standing, and a bright smile appeared on her face as she made eye contact with Astarion.

“Good luck.” Shadowheart said, patting Astarion on the shoulder as she turned to take her leave.

“Not staying to converse with our fearless leader?”

“And bear witness to you trying to convince her to come to bed with you? I’d rather vomit.” Shadowheart teased, and Astarion frowned.

“What are you–” He asked, and Shadowheart gave him a sly grin as she walked away.

“I did say everyone at this party, didn’t I?” Well, she got him there.

Astarion shook his head as the cleric walked away, and drank from his bottle of wine.

“Was I interrupting something?” Fallon asked as she approached.

“Hardly. Shadowheart was just saying goodnight.” He took another sip of wine and winced.

“Why the face?”

“The tieflings don’t exactly have good taste in wine.” He scoffed.

Without another word, Fallon reached out and took the bottle of wine from his hand and drank from it. When she lowered the bottle from her lips, Fallon was trying not to sputter. “It’s not that bad.”

“You’re a bad liar, darling.” Astarion chuckled as he took the bottle back.

The smile returned to her face as Fallon broke out into laughter. “Gods, it’s so bad. I’ve been drinking from a bottle I’ve got stowed in my tent all night.”

Astarion faked an appalled look as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You mean to tell me you’ve got something better than this plonk and you’re not sharing? Darling, I’m hurt.”

“To be fair, I got it from Gale.”

“Got it, or stole it?” Astarion asked mischievously.

“He gave it to me– you and I both know I would never be able to steal it without getting caught. That’s what I have you for.” Fallon grinned.

“Is that all you keep me around for, darling? Petty theft?” Astarion flirted, taking a step closer to her.

“You’re also pretty good at killing people without getting caught.” Fallon conceded as she took Astarion’s bottle of wine from him again and took another drink.

“And…what would you say if I were to suggest you and I sneak off later to find a little death without getting caught?” Astarion asked smoothly, not even bothering to hide the suggestive smirk on his face. This was it, the moment of truth: it was time to see if all of the seeds he’d spent the last fortnight planting were going to take root.

Astarion watched Fallon carefully as the slow realization of his suggestion washed over her. Despite the fact that there was a raucous party happening around them, all sound evaporated as he stared at Fallon. Astarion didn’t need to breathe, so the act of holding his breath in anticipation was simply that: an act. Fallon’s expression softened, and she reached forward and pressed the bottle of wine back into Astarion’s hand.

“You don’t have to do this, Astarion.”

Her response was not what he’d been expecting, and the suggestive expression on Astarion’s face faltered as he took a step back from Fallon. “What are you talking about?”

Fallon laughed softly. “I know what you’re doing…and I’m telling you that you don’t have to.”

Astarion stared at her, completely disarmed by her words. “I don’t know what you–”

“Please, I’m not an idiot. You think the only way to guarantee your safety is to seduce me. Right?”

The vampire’s jaw slackened as he stared at the ranger in front of him, completely stunned into silence. “I–” Astarion stammered before closing his mouth again.

“Well, you don’t. You’re my friend, Astarion. Barring the fact that you’ve already saved my ass more than once, being my friend means I’ve got your back. Your protection is already secured. I promise. No sneaking off for a little death required.”

“Okay.” Astarion said stupidly, all other words completely lost in the shock of this woman reading him so thoroughly.

Fallon took Astarion’s free hand in hers and squeezed it gently. “Have a good night, Astarion.”

The vampire was too stunned to say anything else as Fallon walked away, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as she did. Astarion saw the way her posture and gait changed as she made her way to Gale’s tent. Fallon wasn’t walking over to see the wizard, she was sauntering, and Gale was staring at her with his mouth slightly open as she approached.

Astarion had gathered from the pining looks Gale often gave Fallon when she wasn’t looking that the wizard wanted the ranger, but it never occurred to him that Fallon might want Gale, too. Astarion watched their entire exchange: the way Fallon’s face lit up when Gale cracked a joke, the way she placed her hand on his bicep as they made intense eye contact, the brief look of confusion on Gale’s face that slowly turned into elation as Fallon spoke.

Then, the wizard stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Fallon’s cheek before she turned to walk away, and a surge of jealousy clawed its way into Astarion’s chest as the ranger blushed, a lovesick grin plastered across her face as she went to talk to Karlach. Soon a dull ache replaced the jealousy in Astarion’s heart, and he frowned deeply.

Maybe his desire to sleep with Fallon was about more than just gaining her favor and protection.

Astarion downed the rest of his wine and dropped the empty bottle to the ground. “Shit.”

–

“I assume he belongs to you?” Araj Oblodra addressed Fallon, but she was referring to Astarion. The blood dealer from Menzoberranzan wanted him to bite her, because she wanted to know what it would feel like.

Fallon folded her arms across her chest, and shifted her weight to her left side. Astarion may have been standing behind her, but he knew that stance. It was the one Fallon often took when someone they encountered said something so utterly ridiculous that she was almost in disbelief that they could be so stupid.

“Excuse me? He is his own person.” There was a coldness to her tone, and Astarion swore the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. What she said, though, hearing Fallon say those words, it warmed Astarion’s heart like it was still beating.

“I’m sure he believes that. How utterly adorable,” Araj turned her attention toAstarion. “Do you have a name, spawn?”

“Um, Astarion, but hold on—“ He could feel the panic starting to rise within him as he listened to Araj offer them an extremely valuable potion in exchange for a bite from Astarion. This woman saw him as an object and nothing more: something to be used for her personal enjoyment, something to be exploited.

Astarion declined, and that was not what Araj wanted to hear. That was the moment Astarion’s head started to spin. He felt separated from his body, like he was watching this play out from the rafters, not like he was actually there and participating in the conversation as Araj berated him for saying no.

He didn’t come back to reality until he saw the peak of Fallon’s ponytail somewhat obstructing his vision, because she’d stepped in between Astarion and Araj.

“He said no, now back the fuck off or the only blood you’ll be dealing with will be your own after I spill it all over this gods damned floor.” Fallon threatened, and Astarion felt that warm feeling in his heart again.

Araj made another rude comment about Astarion being a spawn, about him being property, and before Astarion could truly register what was happening, Fallon lunged at the drow, only to be caught around her middle by Karlach.

“Steady soldier, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” The tiefling reminded their leader as Araj drank an invisibility potion and fled. Not that the potion really made any difference— Fallon could still see the drow, courtesy of Volo, even if the rest of them couldn’t.

“I don’t care. I’ll kill her and make it look like a fucking accident. I know how.” Fallon fumed as she struggled against Karlach’s grip.

“Perhaps we should go back to camp for the evening to clear our heads before our cover gets blown and reconvene tomorrow.” Gale suggested anxiously as he peered around to make sure nobody in the adjacent rooms to Araj’s workshop was aware that anything had gone awry.

“Fine, but if she’s here when we come back tomorrow I can’t promise I’ll let her live.” Fallon seethed, and the warm feeling in Astarion’s heart intensified.

Several hours later, once everyone else had gone to bed, Fallon approached him.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently as she sat down beside Astarion outside his tent.

That was certainly the question, wasn’t it? “I should have given her what she wanted,” Astarion said quietly as he averted his eyes from Fallon. “That potion could have been an asset.”

“No potion is worth having if you have to force yourself to do something you don’t want to do.” Fallon countered.

“There’s so much at stake, though. My whole life since becoming a vampire has been about using my looks to get what I wanted—what Cazador wanted— I should have just gritted my teeth through a single moment of unpleasantness and moved on. That’s…that’s what I used to do. It should have been easy.”

“It wasn’t easy this time because you’re stronger now than you used to be. You’re not a slave anymore— you’re free.” Astarion looked at Fallon and he saw the pride shining in her eyes. She was right. Astarion was definitely not the person he was when they met, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized this was largely in part to having met Fallon in the first place. “It’s because of you, you know. You—you’ve made me realize that I deserve better. I can’t say I know what the future holds for me, but I know that whatever decisions I make will be mine; and no one can take that from me.”

Fallon smiled genuinely at him and Astarion couldn’t help but smile back. There was just something about her smile that seemed to brighten up even this land shrouded in darkness. “While I wish I could take all the credit, I wouldn’t have gotten through to you if that strength wasn’t already inside you somewhere.” She leaned over and nudged him with her shoulder.

“Gods, you really can’t take a compliment, can you?” Astarion teased with a soft laugh. Not once in the short time that Astarion had known Fallon had he ever witnessed the woman receive a compliment and just say thank you— it was always thank you, followed by some ridiculous reason she didn’t deserve said compliment, or complete denial she deserved the recognition at all.

Fallon let out a sharp laugh. “Caught on, have you?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you always do that? Deflect when someone says something nice about you.” Astarion elaborated as he studied Fallon closely. Her eyes began rapidly looking everywhere except at Astarion as she sat next to him quietly.

When Fallon finally made eye contact with Astarion again, there was a sadness in her eyes that Astarion understood all too well. “The same reason you do it: when someone spends all their time telling you that you aren’t worthy of kind words, eventually, you begin to believe them.”

Though Astarion had come to count Fallon amongst the few he could call a friend, this was the first time Fallon offered up any sort of real information about herself (and her life before they were abducted) to Astarion and suddenly, her rejection at the party with the tieflings made even more sense. The overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around the raven-haired elf and tell her just how worthy and wonderful she was flooded Astarion’s body. Instead, he just stared at Fallon and nodded sympathetically, because doing anything more than that would mean admitting out loud that he cared for Fallon far more than he ever intended to.

Another moment of silence passed before Astarion stood up and disappeared into his tent momentarily. When he returned, he had a bottle of wine in his hand. He uncorked it and took a long drink before passing the bottle to Fallon with a soft smile.

“Here’s to being better than they ever told us we’d be.” Astarion toasted.

Fallon smiled at him as she took the bottle, and just like that, warmth flooded Astarion’s heart again and all of the atrocities of the day began fading away.

Maybe, someday, he would be worthy of that smile.

Maybe, someday, he would be worthy of her.

–

“You’re running out of time, you know.” Shadowheart said to Astarion one morning when they were alone at camp. Fallon, Gale, Karlach, and Wyll had gone to Moonrise Towers to rescue more tieflings, and Lae’zel was at The Last Light Inn, discussing battle strategies with Jaheira and the Harpers.

Astarion gave the cleric a look. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you sure?” Shadowheart asked slyly, which only exacerbated Astarion’s confusion.

“Yes, I am quite sure.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “I’m talking about Fallon. You’re running out of time to tell her how you feel.”

Despite the calm look that appeared on Astarion’s face when Shadowheart explained herself, deep inside, Astarion was panicking. How did Shadowheart know? Surely it hadn’t been obvious…had it? Astarion didn’t think he’d been treating Fallon any differently since the day they met Araj Oblodra. If anything, he’d given her more space. Astarion scoffed.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about, darling.” Astarion said casually.

Another eye roll from the cleric. “Perhaps I was wrong, then. However, on the offhand chance that you’re lying, and I’m not wrong, Gale declared his intentions to Fallon yesterday. After a bloody battle, of all things.”

Despite the neutral look he managed to keep on his face, Astarion’s heart dropped into his stomach. Gale and Fallon had been exchanging bashful smiles and pining glances ever since the tiefling party a few weeks ago, but Astarion didn’t think Gale had the stones to actually do anything about it. Then again, something changed about the way Gale carried himself after that old wizard showed up and instructed Gale to blow himself up at Mystra’s request. Perhaps Gale was going to go through with it, so he needed to strike while the iron was hot.

If that was the case, how dare Gale use her in that way and pass it off as his dying wish? Fallon had a big heart– Astarion had seen it in the way she rushed to help those who needed it and to avenge the people that were lost. He saw it in the way Fallon looked out for Astarion and the rest of their companions, taking the time to actually get to know them and make sure everyone was doing alright, promising to help solve everyone’s individual problems on top of dealing with her own. It was obvious she had feelings for the wizard, and that Gale was content with taking advantage of her feelings and her kindness…to use Fallon and discard her so he could be a martyr for his goddess…it made Astarion’s blood boil.

If that was the case, Astarion would kill Gale himself.

“Astarion?” Shadowheart waved her hand in front of the vampire’s face, snapping him out of his thoughts and back to the present.

“Sorry, darling, it’s been a while since I ate and the hunger kind of took over my thoughts for a moment.”

Shadowheart smirked at him as she saw through the lie– Astarion fed on Fallon yesterday, and the ranger had the bitemarks to show for it. “Right…well, seeing as I have no intention of being your next meal, I’ll leave you to it. Just…don’t wait too long before you go hunting, alright? I’d hate for you to miss out on something good because your prey got away from you.”

Astarion shot Shadowheart a grateful look, both for not pressing him to verbally admit he had feelings for Fallon, and also for encouraging him to do something about it. “Thank you.”

The rescue mission was a success, and when Fallon, Gale, Karlach, and Wyll returned to camp everyone was in high spirits. Not only had they managed to save all of the tieflings captured by the Absolutists, but also a group of Ironhand gnomes, with no casualties. It seemed like as good a time as any to try and talk to Fallon– not that Astarion had any idea what he was going to say to her. These feelings, his desire for her, it was all foreign and uncharted territory and there was at least a fifty percent chance that Astarion would end up not saying anything at all and making up a reason he wanted to speak with her.

Astarion and Fallon were usually the last two awake– being elves meant they naturally required less sleep than everyone else. Once it seemed like everyone had gone to bed, Astarion momentarily retired to his tent to grab a bottle of wine, certain that alcohol would calm his nerves (plus telling Fallon he loved her over a glass of wine felt like perhaps it was an appropriate romantic gesture). Upon exiting his tent, however, Astarion was greeted with the sight of an astral projection of Gale, and it was speaking to Fallon.

Shit.

What were the chances that what he’d just witnessed wasn’t exactly what Astarion thought it might be? Something told him the probability was low. Astarion hung back until the vision of Gale evaporated before making his way over to the elf, bottle of wine still in hand (just in case). “What was that about? Is the wizard suddenly too good for in-person conversation?” Astarion asked as he approached Fallon from behind. The ranger jumped, clearly not aware that anybody had seen the exchange that just occurred, and when she turned to face Astarion, her cheeks were flushed and there was a giddy smile on her face.

“Oh! Hi! Gale was just– he, um– he invited me to come meet him somewhere private. I guess he wants to show me something?”

So it was exactly what Astarion thought it might be. Fuck. He was too late. “Show you something, hm? I can only imagine what he could possibly want to show you in private.” Astarion smirked as he teased Fallon.

“Shut up.” The elf in front of him rolled her eyes and giggled– Astarion was certain that not only had he never heard Fallon laugh like that before, but it was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. Her eyes drifted to the bottle of wine in Astarion’s hand. “Did you need something?”

Astarion shook his head. “I wanted to see if you were interested in a nightcap to celebrate your win today, but it sounds like you’re otherwise engaged, so I’ll be off.”

“I’m sorry.” Fallon apologized, bless her, not that he really had any idea why she felt the need to do so.

“Not to worry.. Another time,” He waved her off with his free hand and an easy smile, hopeful that it masked the fact that he felt like he was dying inside. “Have fun, darling.” With a wink, Astarion turned on his heels and walked back to his tent, his face falling the second his back was to Fallon.

Fallon and Gale did not return to camp until the next morning when everyone was already around the campfire eating breakfast. They were hand in hand, and Fallon giggled softly as Gale leaned in to whisper something in her ear before kissing her cheek.

“It’s about gods-damned time!” Karlach hollered upon seeing them.

“I, too, was growing tired of the longing glances the two of you gave each other when the other was not looking. I’m glad you both finally saw sense. Perhaps now you’ll be able to focus on the problems at hand.” Lae’zel agreed, and Astarion couldn’t help but snort with laughter. Even when she was congratulating someone, she managed to insult them. It was brilliant.

“Are you going to be okay?” Shadowheart’s voice filled Astarion’s mind as she used their tadpole connection to wordlessly communicate with him.

Astarion did not look at Shadowheart, not wanting to give away that they were having a private conversation in their minds. “Like I said yesterday, darling, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He saw no reason to admit his true feelings to his friend, especially not now– not when they officially didn’t matter. Fallon made her choice, and her choice was not Astarion.

He watched as Gale escorted Fallon to her tent, likely so she could change out of yesterday’s clothes, the dull ache that had taken root in his chest the night before intensifying tenfold as Gale tucked his finger beneath Fallon’s chin and kissed her deeply before making his way to his own tent. The smile on Fallon’s face was bright enough that Astarion was certain even the shadows of this cursed place would shy away.

“She looks happy.” Shadowheart’s voice filled Astarion’s mind again, and he sighed.

“She deserves nothing less.”

Once upon a time, Astarion might have made a play for Fallon’s heart anyway, her relationship with Gale be damned. Ironically, the reason Astarion now listened to his moral compass was entirely due to Fallon’s influence. Without even realizing it (or maybe she did), Fallon had turned Astarion into a better person, and because of that, he was going to let his feelings for her go. If all Fallon was able to offer him was her friendship then Astarion would be grateful for it. He just hoped that seeing her happy with someone else would eventually stop feeling like someone ripped open his chest and threw his heart on the ground.

How sad it was, to finally feel alive again, and not be able to share it with the person who made him feel that way.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale #astarion #female tav #gale x tav #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #bg3 fan fiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fan fic #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fan fiction

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pedrostylez · 9 months

Text

Something Else- pt. 2

pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

chapter summary: Waking up hungover is one thing, but trying to explain what didn’t happen to your friend is another. You handle it about as well as you can, shutting down and running away. Frankie is sweet about the whole thing, and you don't know how to handle that either.

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count: 5.7k

warnings etc: Frankie w/o a daughter, triple frontier movie plot has happened but is not mentioned as of yet, eventual explicit smut (not this chapter but it will build), fluff, pet names, friendships, jealousy, competition, drinking, some heavy petting....dry humping, makeout session, praise... 2nd person pov, no use of y/n

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday! I hope you're ready for part 2 of Something Else...some things heat up and there's a bit of a cliffhang at the end, so don't hate me. Let me know what you think!

Taglist: @meveispunk, @jitterbugs927, @sullyosully @3sriracha @alltheseperfectimperfections @nandan11

It is unbearably bright past your eyelids, making you see fireworks of different colors once you are conscious enough to be aware of it. You’re surrounded by the smell of fresh sheets, some detergent you aren’t familiar with. A deodorant that smells of sandalwood and citrus, and the faint smell of…sausage?

You blink your eyes open, looking at the unfamiliar ceiling for a moment before looking down at the comforter you are clutching. Dark green, with small cream-colored leaves scattered in no particular pattern. You turn your head towards the window where the blinds are open and notice a bookshelf in the corner, a chair with a pile of clothes on it unfolded, and not much else in the room.

Turning your head in any direction is painful-it hurts behind your eyes with this hollow feeling, making you blink a few times to try and get rid of the dryness. There's some shuffling beyond the closed door, pots, and pans of some kind, mumbling that is indiscernible. You briefly remember last night, realizing that it must be Frankie behind the door and that this is his bedroom.

He tucked you in.

You take a deep breath before braving the floor, cold under your bare feet, and turn the knob as quietly as possible. It feels silly to stick your head out into the hallway to look and see where Frankie might be, but you do it anyway with the intention of beelining it for the bathroom. You have no idea what you look like, and the idea of saying “good morning” with makeup smeared all over your face, makes you want to crawl in a hole and die.

You step into the hallway on the balls of your feet and into the bathroom, shutting that door behind you quickly and turning on the light. “Oh…wow.” You can’t help but say out loud, seeing the eye makeup you had put on is completely smoked out under your eyes, resembling that of a raccoon.

Scanning Frankie’s sink top for something to wash your face with, you settle on the Dove foaming soap. You think back to the last guy’s house you stayed at that didn’t have any soap, and shiver slightly before running the water to get it warm.

Frankie tilted his head at the sound of water running, looking towards the hallway briefly and noticing that the bedroom door was open. He smiled to himself, turning the sausage patty over in the pan before finishing scrambling the eggs. Based on how many drinks you had the night before, he hoped that you wouldn’t mind him cooking breakfast for the both of you.

When you finally appeared, sheepishly standing on the tiled floor, he had to hold back the full smile that wanted to appear. Your face was flushed, pieces of hair around your face damp with water, and his shirt hanging loosely around your collarbone. “Mornin’. I made enough to share.” He said quietly, watching you scan the room and brighten at the Advil bottle with a glass of water that he had set out for you.

“I’m not ruining your morning, am I?” You asked, helping yourself to a couple pills and tossing them back quickly.

He shook his head. “Not at all. Figured some grease might help that headache you have.” He smiles at you, he can’t help it, and serves you a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage. “There’s orange juice in the fridge, if you want some of that.”

You nod, draining the rest of your water cup and sliding over to the fridge quickly. Frankie grabs two forks, handing you one once you’ve poured yourself a glass of orange juice and he waits for you to take the first bite. He’s nervous again, tapping his fingers against the counter and taking a sip of some juice. “Pope texted me this morning; said that Anna is with him so your key is across town still.”

You nod once, taking a bite of the eggs and contemplating. “Where does he live?” You ask, looking up at Frankie. “I’ll grab a taxi to his place and be out of your hair.”

Frankie furrows his brow at you, shaking his head. “There’s no need for that, I’ll drive you over.”

Your face starts to flush red, taking another quick bite. “I don’t want to impose–”

“You’re not.” Frankie corrects quickly, laughing quietly under his breath. “I can’t let you handle the wrath of Pope and Anna on your own.” You go to say more before he stops you again. “I’m supposed to pick up Pope anyways, so it's not an inconvenience, cariño.”

Frankie watches you nod again, smiling down at your plate before finishing off the sausage. His eyes flick down to your hand that rests easily on the counter, and he wants to grab it-to hold it in his to give you a reassuring squeeze. “You’re…” You trail off, looking back up at him. You bite your lip and Frankie is just about to lose his patience, wanting to reach up and pull your lip from your teeth and bite on it himself. “You’re one of the nicest people I’ve come across in a while, Frankie.”

Frankie can feel his heart deflate a little at that. Sure, he wanted to be nice and polite, but he wanted to kiss you. He covers it with a small smile. “I don’t know if that’s sad or depressing.” He laughs, watching you flutter your lashes down to your cheek before pushing away the plate. He can’t stop himself when he reaches forward and wraps his fingers around yours. He hears your gasp and doesn’t know if he should backtrack or not. “Has everyone else…not been nice?”

You’re frozen under his gaze, the only indication that you heard him is your eyes on his and that your fingers are squeezing his right back. You blink quickly, scrunching your forehead and releasing a quick breath. “No, I guess not.”

Frankie steps closer to you and pulls your hand up to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles. He swears you shiver at the contact. “You deserve that. People being…nice to you.” He says quietly, squeezing your hand once more before dropping it and grabbing your plate to put in the sink as a distraction from the way you’re looking at him.

The short version is that you want to jump Frankie’s bones, but don’t think you can.

The long version is that once Frankie grabbed your plate after planting his lips to your hand and looking at you like you hung the moon, you stood there and stared at his back for a few seconds before turning around to find where you had folded your clothes.

As nonchalantly as possible you had mumbled that you were going to change and beelined it for the bathroom another time, phone in hand as you started to take off the sweatpants he had let you borrow. You look at your string of texts from Anna while running the sink again, groaning internally.

11:43 pm: I can’t believe you went home with Frankie!

1:24 am: Santi says that Frankie will treat you real nice, I have to know all the details later!

2:11 am: Oh god I have your key-in case you’re freaking out just let me know I’ll come get you

10:37am: Babe for real, how big is he? Did I pick the wrong friend?

You cringed at the last message, suddenly not wanting to share a single detail of just how polite and helpful and nice Frankie had been. You hadn’t even slept with him, had no claim over him, but didn’t want to let Anna have a single instance of thinking otherwise. You didn’t want to talk to her about Frankie even if you guys had done something. Not that you were opposed at all–

“Hey, uh. Pope just called.” Frankie said just outside the door. You turn off the sink, eyes wide as you button your jeans and debate if you should keep his shirt on or change back into the one that you wore the night before. You wonder which would look worse for a walk of shame… “Said that he’s getting ready for our plans. Are you…I’m not trying to rush you–”

“No, that's fine!” You say quickly, swinging open the door and trying to smooth out your hair. “Is it um…is it okay if I? If I wear this?” You ask, pulling on his shirt still covering you. “The top I wore last night is really uncomfortable–”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Frankie sighs, a happy smile gracing his face.

You shift between your feet, pushing your hair behind your ear. “I just need my shoes and we can leave.”

Frankie nods, motioning towards the door where you must have left them. “Let’s go deal with them making fun of us then.”

Frankie can see that you’re nervous. Your ability to shake your leg up and down in quick succession while in his truck while also having a totally normal conversation with him about your friend Anna makes him wonder how you’re able to think about multiple things at the same time. There’s no way that you’re not able to think about two things at once unless you’re nervous about talking to him in general.

You’re only about halfway to Santiago’s place when Frankie’s hand comes down gently on your knee to stop you. “What are you thinking?” He questions, glancing at you before back at the road.

You sigh heavily before bringing your hands together. “Nothing just–Anna is going to be…Well, she–” You cut yourself off and lean your forehead into the window. “Anna tried setting us up and it’s going to be difficult to get her off my back about whether or not we…you know.”

Frankie nods, furrowing his brow before coming to a stop at the red light. He turns his attention to you, seeing that you haven’t removed his hand. “Will she not accept no as the answer?” He digs, watching you turn to him with your own furrowed brow. He wants to reach forward and smooth the worry away, not understanding what you’re concerned about.

“She will, she just…” You trail off, your leg beginning to shake again under his hand. He holds it tighter, trying to reassure you. “It doesn’t matter.” You concede, looking back forward when the light changes to green.

Frankie doesn’t push, keeping his hand on your knee as he continues forward to Pope’s apartment. He’s acutely aware of your wringing hands and how you try to stop yourself multiple times, moving on to picking at the skin on your thumb.

He sighs heavily as he pulls up to Pope’s building, cutting the engine and giving you a final squeeze. “We don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Frankie suggests, watching your eyes flick between his. “I don’t know what Anna’s deal is but if you don’t want to tell her then you shouldn’t have to.”

You nod slowly, sighing out of your nose and laying your hand on top of his. His heart rate picks up at the feeling of your skin. “You’re right.”

He can see you relax, and he immediately vows to not tell Pope a single thing.

Frankie trails behind you closely, guiding you to Santiago’s door with a light hand on the small of your back. You feel jittery, hoping that Anna won’t say anything too obnoxious in front of Frankie, asking if you guys “fucked until the sun came up” or some other line you’ve heard from her before.

You hope she doesn’t ask if he’s single.

Santi meets you at the door, swinging it wide and scanning his eyes over the shirt you’re wearing and then behind you to Frankie with a smirk of knowing. “Morning, love birds.” He mumbles, moving out of the way to let you in before smacking Frankie on the back.

Anna is sitting on the couch, her eyes wide as she spots you, squealing out in delight before running for you. “Did you get laid?” You cringe as she wraps her arms around you, jumping up and down like you both were equally excited.

When you don’t answer, hearing Santiago and Frankie talk quietly behind you, Anna pulls away and examines your face. She breaks out into another smile before giving you a shake. “Oh yeah, you did! We are so going to talk about this later.”

You turn back around, watching Santi bump Frankie again with a quiet “Nothing? You’re going to say nothing?” before meeting eyes with Frankie. He’s stoic, calm, and observing Anna with you and it makes you blush. “You guys really aren’t going to divulge anything?” Santi says louder, looking up to you and back to Frankie.

“We gotta get going, man,” Frankie says, motioning to the door. “Engine is still running.”

You know it's a lie, but you’re relieved that Frankie is cutting it short. You can avoid Anna on your own, complain that you have a headache, and go back to your apartment, wallowing in your inability to keep a guy interested in you as Anna takes them all away. “I’ll wash your shirt and give it back to you.” You say quietly, pulling out your phone and barely holding it out in his direction.

Frankie is quick to step forward, close to you as he types in his number and calls himself, hanging up after the first ring. “Call me whenever cariño.” He says quietly, placing the phone back in your hand and wrapping his fingers around your wrist. He pulls you forward subtly, leaning down to brush his lips against your cheek. When he pulls away and locks eyes with you, you are almost able to drown out the sound of Anna’s squeal, wincing when it comes to your ears.

When Frankie and Santi leave, you are then bombarded with the questions you knew were coming.

“How was it? Was he nice to you? He better have been.”

“How big is he? He looks like he is hiding more down there than most!”

“He seems so sweet, you want to trade him with Santi for a couple spins?”

“Anna, I don’t want to talk about this.” You finally say, breathing out heavily and shaking your head at her. She looks confused, pouring a glass of lemonade at the fridge when you have finally cut her off. “It shouldn’t matter what Frankie and I did, and I don’t want to talk about it with you.”

Anna pauses for a moment, setting the glass down. “Babe, what’s going on?” She questions. “Was he horrible?”

“No!” You exclaim, frustrated with yourself. You can’t tell her that she’s the issue. “I just…I want to keep it private. For now. Okay?” You gasp out, running your hands through your hair for a moment. “I got to go, alright? Thank you for holding my key. I’ll text you.”

“Babe, you would tell me if something was wrong, right? Has he done something? Or me?” Anna questions, crossing her arms defensively.

You nod, sliding your shoes on and rushing for the door. “It’s not you, Ann, it’s me. I’m, I’m all flustered and I need to just…I need to take a second. Everything is fine.” You say quietly, opening the front door and not waiting for a response before heading down the sidewalk in your apartment's direction. You pull out your phone and go to the phone number that was added moments ago to your recent calls, texting Frankie.

Thank you.

Frankie looks at your text once he’s arrived at the hangar, smiling to himself before putting his phone back in his pocket. When he looks up to Santi, his eyes are on him already. “You’re really not going to tell me how she is?” He groans, bumping Frankie’s shoulder as he passes him.

“Not your concern, Pope,” Frankie mumbles, strapping his harness on a bit tighter around his flight suit.

“Leave Frankie alone, man.” Benny chips in, turning to Frankie with a kind smile. “She’s pretty cool, isn’t she?”

Frankie slides his aviators onto his nose and up his face, giving a quick nod. “She’s…different.” He says quietly while Benny pats his back.

Frankie is able to ignore the rest of the group quickly as he gets into the helicopter, sitting in the pilot seat, and getting to work on the practice run. He’s able to completely clear his mind, not worry about how Pope was grilling him in the ride over here, or how Pope couldn’t stop talking about how amazing Anna was…

No, Frankie was able to clear his mind and reexamine your reaction when Anna came up to you. How you stood still, stiff as a board, and ignored her questions. How you winced when she said you would be talking about it later with her. How Anna’s eyes seemed to lock on Frankie’s chest and trail down…

Frankie wasn’t sure if he really saw that or if he imagined it. But, it was enough to make him crowd you when you said you would wash his shirt, that you would return it. How you relaxed against him when he brushed his lips against your cheek–how that soothed you instead of winding you up more.

And for you to text him after you clearly had escaped Anna’s questions, had gone home even. How you thought about him enough to thank him, for just not saying anything. Up in the air, moving the helicopter around the course with his team, his friends behind him along for the ride, he could swear that he would be in love with you by the end of the day if he thought too much about you.

After a couple days, you find yourself still in a slump of avoiding Anna. It wasn’t the first time that you had gone days without texting her-she was typically in her own world and wouldn’t bother you. But this time around, she was a bit more persistent, leaving voicemails.

“Hey babe! Let me know when you get a chance and maybe we can have movie night? Santi said that Frankie wouldn’t tell him anything either-you guys have a pact or something? Kinda hot. Anyways, let me know if you want to go out again!”

“You doing okay? What happened the other day when I asked about Frankie? He wasn’t mean to you was he? I’ll go over there right now if that’s the case. Anyways…text me.”

“Hey, call me back when you get a second, honey. I want to make sure you’re good, and Santi has seen Frankie and he hasn’t mentioned you. Let me know.”

I’m working all this weekend-sorry. We can chat when I have a few days off.

It wasn’t a total lie. You had worked the next day, an evening shift at the cafe, going through the motions of the closing shift and bringing home a large iced coffee for you to drink the next day while you created a cocoon on your couch. The living room blinds were pulled, the room dark with the flashing on the TV the only thing lighting up the room.

Frankie’s shirt was folded on the chair by the door, waiting for you to get the courage to message him. You looked down at your phone, pulling up his contact and pressing “call” before thinking much more about it.

It rang twice before he picked up. “Why, hello hermosa.” He said quietly, a small smile appearing on your lips at the sound of his voice.

“H-hey. Hi.” You squeak out, clearing your throat for a moment before letting it be quiet. “I uh, I have your shirt washed.”

It was silent on the other end and you could feel the panic coursing through your veins for a moment before he spoke. “Can I come pick it up?” He questioned, sounds in the background of other people, men, making noises of encouragement before Frankie stepped far enough away to not hear them anymore.

“Yeah, you can. I work tomorrow if you wanted to stop by–”

“Can I now?” Frankie asks quickly, cutting you off before saying. “I was hoping to see you, actually.”

You look down at what you’re wearing, cringing at the thought of any man, nice or not, seeing you with your hair barely brushed, pajamas from the day before still on… ”I’m not really presentable.” You say quietly, standing to go to the bathroom and find a hairbrush, maybe to brush your teeth.

“I don’t want to push you.” Frankie states, and you swear you can hear him pacing. “I just wanted to talk about…well, Anna has asked me if you’re okay.” He sighs, and you can imagine he is rubbing his forehead. “I don’t know what to tell her, but she’s convinced I should know and–”

“You know where I live, Frankie.” You sigh, rolling your eyes at the thought of Anna asking him if you were okay. You had texted her. “Stop by when you’re done entertaining your friends?” You ask, stepping into your bedroom to find a clean pair of pants.

“I’ll be there in ten, hermosa.” He says, ending the call and leaving you panicked, forcing your jeans on and a new shirt, rushing around and cleaning up the trash of candy and popcorn that you had been eating all weekend.

The ten minutes Frankie said ended up being six, and when the knock came to your door you felt panicked and rushed and swung the door open so quickly that Frankie jumped backwards. “Sorry!” You said breathlessly, grabbing the arm of his jacket and pulling him towards you and into your apartment. “I thought I had ten minutes.”

“Were you running?” He asks, smiling down at you as you shut the door and lean against it. His hands are on his hips, sticking the knee of his tan cargo pants out while the burnt orange windbreaker he’s wearing flares out where the zipper is undone.

You sigh at him, rolling your eyes and standing straight. You reach down to the chair by the door and pick up his shirt. “Thank you for letting me borrow it.” You say quietly, holding it out to him.

He gently takes it from your hands, rolling it up into a neat bundle that fits under his arm while he leans against your counter. “Are you…are you doing okay?” He asks, tilting his head and then looking up at your ceiling briefly before trying again. “I mean, are you and Anna not talking?”

You give him a brief shrug, stepping towards your living room where you still have a bunch of blankets covering the couch. You start collecting them, folding them one by one. “I just need space from her. She shouldn’t be trying to put you in the middle.” You state, throwing him a look of apology.

“Pope grilled me about you spending the night at my house, so I assume it was just as bad for you?” He asks, looking around your living room and then at the TV. “Did I ruin movie night?”

“No you’re not disturbing movie night, I’ve been watching them all weekend.” You choose to ignore the first question, even though it isn’t really fair to Frankie.

Frankie pauses for a moment before saying “Do you…want to watch another one?” He’s quiet as he asks, scratching the back of his neck. “Unless you’re all movie’d out.”

You pause your folding to look at him and smile. “Don’t want to be grilled again, huh?” You tease, throwing the blanket down and sitting on your couch.

He shrugs, sitting down a little ways from you, spreading an arm over the back of the couch in your direction. He places his shirt on the coffee table, locking eyes with you again. “It can even be something cheesy if I don’t have to go back to babysitting those guys.”

You laugh, reaching for the remote and turning the TV back on. “Do you like Heath Ledger?”

He nods, sliding his shoes off and setting them to the side of the coffee table. “He’s awesome in The Dark Knight.”

You hum, opening up your purchased movie list on Prime, and click on something you had planned on watching later. “He’s a very versatile actor.”

Frankie looks up at the TV and sees 10 Things I Hate About You queued up and starts chuckling. “He is.” He settles back, arm still reaching towards you as he gives you a last look. “You sure you don’t want me to go? So you can have your space?”

You look over at him, smiling once again before leaning towards him carefully. You don’t want to lean on his whole body, but closer to show you’re not being a total hermit. “I want you to stay if you want to.”

He smirks at you, eyes flicking down to your mouth briefly before his hand comes around the back of your neck gently and pulls you towards him. It's a surprise, at first, how warm his hand is and how nice it feels to have him pull you into a one-sided hug to practically lay on him as the movie begins in the background. Your face is smooshed into his upper chest, the crown of your head brushing his scruffy beard and your heart begins to race when your hand rests on his stomach. “Let’s relax, sweetheart.”

Frankie wants to kiss you.

He had been thinking about you all weekend, throwing off his friends with their questions about you and what happened after you both escaped the bar. Pope gave his best rendition to the rest of the guys of you and Frankie entering his apartment, and how you exchanged numbers, and how you were wearing his shirt.

And he had wanted to call you or text you again to make sure you were, in fact, okay. But he didn’t know what to do when Anna started asking him where you were when they all hung out again. How Will’s eyes peered at him in curiosity, raising his brows in a silent question.

Tonight was different-only Will and Benny were in front of him, asking him again how you were. “Why won’t you talk about her?” Will questioned.

“It’s not your business.” Frankie groaned out again, crossing his arms when he felt his phone vibrate, picking it up as soon as he saw your name across his screen.

He had teased you about running around your apartment, but Frankie literally had run to his car and up to your door. Will and Benny had laughed at him when he said he was ditching; It only took him four minutes to get to your door, but he took two to catch his breath.

Now he had the courage to pull you closer to him after seeing you debate whether or not you wanted him to stay, looking so comfy and ready to take a nap, but in the back of his mind wondered what was going on with you and Anna. He had tried questioning you once, and you brushed it off, pretending he didn’t ask.

Frankie hadn’t seen this movie but knew based on your comments it was not something he would pick out on his own. He liked the feel of you against him, the small laughs you would make, and the sighs at some of the dialogue. He kept quiet unless you asked him a question, only moving to take off his hat when he realized he still had it on. Your hand on his stomach made him hyper-aware of your movements, warm through his shirt.

He was so hyper-aware of it that he felt it when you started to sniffle quietly before actually hearing it. There was a speech happening in the movie, and when he looked down at your eyes, they were glassy and wet with tears. “Are you alright?” He asked, startling you.

“Oh, god yes. I can’t help it.” You laugh, pulling away from him. “It’s just so…she’s so angry at him and she is saying she can’t even help but still like him.” She sighs, looking over at him and shaking her head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He says roughly, reaching forward and wiping under your eyes with his thumbs. He’s pulled your face so close to his that he can’t help himself when he looks at your lips again, flushing red when you look at his own.

You lean forward and connect your lips with his, closing your eyes and pressing yourself closer to him. Frankie groans when your hand slides up to the back of his neck, fingers curling in the hair long enough to play with. He pulls away quickly, suddenly out of breath. You start to pull away, but he holds you firm, resting his forehead against yours.

When he does pull away, you’re still flushed, eyes wide with unsureness. The movie continues to play in the background, but Frankie can’t think beyond you in front of him, can’t hear beyond your breaths.

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table, pulling you out of your stare down with him, snapping your eyes over. Frankie peeks at the same time and sees Anna has texted you again. You groan, pulling fully away to grab the phone. “She doesn’t really understand boundaries.”

Frankie clears his throat, doing his best to not read along the text that has been sent to you. Another inquiry of whether or not you’re okay. “Is everything okay?”

You sigh quietly, biting at your cheek before flicking your eyes over to him. “Yeah just…she’s always really nosey.” You mumble, setting your phone back down on the coffee table. “She always gets what she wants.”

Frankie doesn’t know how to interpret that and doesn’t want to pry more than you’re willing to share. “What do you want?” He asks, watching you slowly turn your head to him in confusion. “Is it easier to let it be, or is it easier to have a conversation?”

You did not react how he thought you would when you lean into him and cuddle up to his shoulder. His heart jumps when you rest your hand on his upper leg. “Sometimes I think I should tell her, but it's an older issue…and I don’t really date anymore so it’s not like she can really interfere…”

Frankie absorbs the information, lifting his arm to pull you closer. “Do whatever you think is right.” He mumbles, bringing his lips down to the top of your head and kissing you gently.

He doesn’t expect you to lean your head up, eyes half-lidded as you look at his mouth again. “Will you kiss me again?” You say quietly, gasping as he launches his mouth towards yours, arranging you to turn into his lap.

He wants to make you feel good. There’s nothing else in his mind as he pulls you closer, your legs apart so he can slot his hips between your legs and press his chest to yours. He’s hungry for your attention, kissing into your mouth and then down your jaw to your ear, hands wrapped around your back. He can feel you heaving, shifting himself to look down at you again and giving you a smile. “You’re gorgeous, cariño.” He can feel you giggle as he attaches his lips to your neck, leaving a small trail until he is at your ear. “We can do whatever you want.”

He hears your breathy sigh and thinks it is out of relief. He doesn’t understand what it means but loves how it feels to make you feel relaxed with him. You pull him up to reattach your lips to his, biting at his lower lip and making him groan at the slight pain. He unintentionally thrusts his hips towards you but enjoys the reward of your moan.

He gently continues to do this, pushing his hips against yours, and feels the heat through your jeans and his cargo pants, and wonders if he should slow down. “Want to make you feel good.” He sighs out, realizing his eyes are closed, and pops them open to look down at you.

You buck your hips up to meet his, hands gripping his shoulders to where it may hurt another man, but Frankie is too focused on you and your hips and the way your shirt is riding up– “Touch me, please.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice, hands running down your sides to push your shirt up. His mouth is on you instantly, biting lightly at your belly button and up your sternum to where your bra gets in the way. He flicks his eyes up to yours to ask quick permission before moving your shirt above your chest, groaning at the sight. “Fuck hermosa, you’re going to kill me.” He says seriously, laughing when you let out a breathy one in return.

Frankie has decided at that moment to only touch you, to have you taken care of, and to leave it at that. To have you satisfied at the minimum; maybe you would come back for him or maybe not. He’s already concerned that you’ll ghost him and disappear if you do that to what he thought was your friend–

A loud knock makes you both jump, and a quick yelp comes from your mouth. You both pause, staring at each other. Frankie is hyper-aware of you bucking your hips again–

“Babe?” Anna says just beyond the door. “You in there?”

Your eyes go wide, pushing Frankie off of you. “Fuck.” You whisper, getting him to stand up and run towards the door to look through the peephole.

“Your shirt,” Frankie whispers back, watching you twist around and down at yourself to pull it down, red-faced and embarrassed. He’s trying to hold in his laughter as you try to flatten out your hair which was clearly spread across the couch moments ago.

“Go down the hall.” You whisper, pointing towards your bedroom, pushing him with the other hand. “Just, don’t come out.”

Frankie bites the inside of his cheek, holding back his remark about his shoes and his hat being on clear display, not wanting to argue with you about getting to snoop in your room while you deal with Anna.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fic #something else

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tadpolesonalgae · 9 months

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Nessian x mate!reader: Good Things Come In Threes

A/N: Based of this ask. I am planning on making a part two where the bond snaps for everyone, so I’ll try and get around to that asap!

It had taken you a long time to come around to them.

A very long time.

It wasn’t that you hated them, or didn’t want to be with them, more that it had never occurred to you to seek out a partner. So to realise you could have two was a revelation. And like most children of Prythian, you’d grown up with stories of not lovers, not husbands and wives, but mates. To find one is to find your world, but to find two? Unheard of.

Nesta had figured it out first, and with Rhys still showering her with gifts, it was no struggle to have him seek out a book that held the information she desired. She’d brought the news straight to Cassian, guessing that if she was feeling the effects of a second bond, then somewhere within him, he would be too.

They’d pondered tirelessly how to bring it up with you: whether they should just tell you outright? Have one of them broach the subject with you and if so, which one? To leave it until you noticed? Or to ignore it completely?

The trouble was, you were difficult to read at the best of times, often not shifting a single one of your features even as you made—what they had come to realise were—jokes. It had gotten to the point they thought it would be best to leave you be, no matter how much they wanted to welcome you into their bond. But when Cassian had caught you sharpening your blades in the Spymaster’s company, both of you grinning in that quiet, secretive way, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand it. Not when—as soon as you’d spotted him—the grin had vanished, unreadable once again as your shoulders stiffened.

And after that, it had only served to bring their attention to how you’d been quietly avoiding them—slipping out of rooms with a small look toward the Shadowsinger, an excuse that you needed to prepare for a mission, or you needed to leave in time for your job. The list went on.

Maybe you’d already realised the bond, and simply weren’t interested. The thought didn’t sit well with either of them. Which had lead to Cassian knocking rather stiffly on Azriel’s office door that night, hoping he could provide an insight. He seemed to be the closest with you—much to his envy.

The door swings open, and Cassian has to restrain his jealousy when he spots his brother at his desk, with you leaning casually against it with your feet crossed at the ankles. Again, that small smile slides from your lips, dropping to the floor at the sight of him in the doorway. He swallows against the slight sting of pain, remembering what he came here for.

“Have a moment, Az?” He calls as casually as possible, trying to appear normal and not like he’s burning with jealousy that he’s found you yet again in the company of his brother—looking for all the world you’re enjoying yourself with him.

You both share a look, some silent conversation happening that he has to remind himself not to demand to be let in on. Once, it had been just the two of them—Rhys as well, of course, but he wasn’t always there at Windhaven—but now Azriel’s attention seems to be swaying more heavily to you. Gods, is this how he’d made Az feel when Mor had come along?

“I should get some shut eye, anyway,” you finally mutter to the Spymaster, and move to leave, not so much as greeting, or simply acknowledging him as you brush past. He might as well have been invisible; even Azriel’s brows narrow almost imperceptibly. Maybe that’s why his words come out a slight bit harsher than he’d intended once you’ve made your escape. “You seem cushy together.”

Azriel’s eyes flick to his, sensing the accusatory undertone. “I’m not positioning myself between the two of you, you know,” he says instead, remaining infuriatingly calm. “What did you want to talk about?” And Cassian just knows that his brother is being intentionally difficult. “Do you know why she acts so cold towards me and Nesta?” He voices, shutting the door behind him as he takes the spot where you had been.

The Shadowsinger’s eyes don’t stray from his reports, “why don’t you ask her?”

“Do you know?” He repeats, sensing something’s being kept from him. He doesn’t like that, not one bit—the idea of you sharing secrets with his brother. Keeping him out of it.

“Maybe she’s said something to me, maybe she hasn’t. What’s it to you, Cassian?” The bastard still isn’t looking at him, and it’s beginning to make him antsy. “I think it’s perfectly understandable to want to know why she avoids us so much, Azriel.”

“Is she avoiding you?”

“Don’t play stupid,” Cassian barks, hands fisting at his sides. An action he knows his brother marks. The bastard smiles faintly. “I’d have thought as my brother, you’d be willing to help,” he snaps, “but it seems you’re picking her over us, huh?”

Finally, Azriel shifts in his chair, leaning back with a casualness that bothers Cassian, how nonchalant he is about this whole matter. He clearly knows how much it’s bothering him—yet he’s only adding to the problem. Why? “I’m not the one taking sides here, Cass,” Azriel drawls evenly. Cassian’s brow narrows at his words, “and I am?” The Spymaster’s lips quirks again, and he has to fight the urge to slam his fist into his brother’s jaw—he’d wait for answers before taking his frustrations out.

Instead of answering, though, Azriel changes the subject. “Just ask her. She’ll appreciate the directness.”

“And how am I supposed to ask her when she practically sprints from every room I walk into, huh? Do you have an answer to that, Azriel?” He snaps, temper fraying at the edges. Something glints in his brothers eyes, forming an expression that makes him see red, “wound a bit tight, Cass?” It has enough of a bite to snap him out of his momentary lapse in judgement. But all this stress—not knowing what’s going on with you, if they’ve done something wrong—it’s making things difficult.

Cassian drags a hand through his hair, looking away for a moment, brows narrowing. Then, “you really think she’ll be fine if I just ask her? ‘Hey, we hardly know each other because you seem to run from me every time I so much as breathe in your direction, but is there a reason you seem to hate even being in the same room as me—or Nes?’” Azriel gives him a look that reads, no, and you know damn well that’s not what you’d say.

“Then what?” Cassian snaps, glaring at his brother.

“Just knock on her door. If she’s not in there, then she’ll either be out, or in the library since she’s not here,” Azriel says, and he doesn’t miss the hint—you spend a fair amount of time in his office. Fire burns in the pit of his stomach but he calms it. He needs to be level-headed for this, especially if he wants to make sure he doesn’t screw it up.

Cassian nods to himself, turning and leaving silently. He can practically hear Azriel roll his eyes, but he decides to ignore it—he needs to talk to you, find out what’s going on it that head of yours.

————

After a brief catch-up with Nesta, they both head to your door the following day, knocking quietly in case for some reason you aren’t yet awake—though the sun is fairly high in the sky. They share a look when they’re met with silence, wondering if you’re pretending to be asleep to avoid them.

Cassian raises his hand to knock again, but—

“Is there something you need?”

Neither of them flinch overtly, but instead share a mutual moment of surprise through the bond. Of course Azriel would have been teaching you stealth techniques.

And now you’re moving toward them down the hallway, Cassian firmly planting his feet on the floorboards, equidistant from one another. Beside him, Nesta settles into a similar position. “We want to talk to you. Both of us,” Nesta says calmly, features neutral as she takes you in. “Both of you,” you repeat, eyes flicking between them. “One of you wouldn’t have sufficed?” You ask pointedly, gaze darting to your door with clear intent.

“Not for this,” Nesta replies. “There are some things that need to be cleared up. I think you realise that too. Isn’t that why you’re avoiding us?” She asks, clearly. She’ll appreciate the directness, Azriel had said.

Your eyes narrow warily, moving between them and the door. “Let me put my things away, then I’ll see you in the kitchen,” you say, not waiting for them to move as you brush past Cassian’s side, shutting the door firmly behind you.

In your wake, they exchange glances. But as they turn to leave, they pause. A small spark flickers from a third direction—tense, but hopeful. Cassian blows out a breath, following behind Nesta as she makes her way to the kitchen—your suggested meeting point.

————

It takes you longer than normal to set your bags down on the table and put everything away with the adrenaline in your blood. You wonder what they want to talk about.

They’ve taken the seats that face the nearest exit—so you’ll be closer—watching as you come in. Watch as you sit down. “What did you want to talk about?”

The two fae before you exchange glances. Directness.

Nesta sets her hands on the table, spine straightening as she meets your eyes. Takes a breath. “We think the mating bond extends to you, too.”

You blink. “What?”

Nesta doesn’t falter, “our mating bond.” She gestures between her and Cassian, “we think it includes you, too.”

You blink again, “oh. I see.” You shift in your chair, leaning forward ever so slightly. “And you called this meeting because?”

“We wanted to know if you’d realised,” Cassian says steadily. “If you’d felt anything on your side.”

Your gaze runs over them, weighing; assessing. “I’d felt something,” you admit, “but what makes you think it’s a mating bond? Those are shared between a couple, they don’t go for threes.”

“Actually,” Nesta speaks this time, “mating bonds join equals, connecting those fate or the Mother believes belong together. Originally, that was the only condition, but with the rise of civilisation and society, ideas of marriage were pushed onto the concept of the mating bond. In the earlier centuries marriage was strictly between a husband and wife, purely heterosexual and monogamous, and so those views became ingrained in the modern idea of how the mating bond functions,” she explains. “But that’s wrong. A mating bond was never limited to two individuals, was never limited to male and female,” She finishes, watching you carefully.

Like Nesta you don’t stutter or stumble, just take her words in at your own pace. “Okay, so your mating bond extends to me. Do you want me to join, or promise to stay out of your business?” Your scent has shifted ever so slightly, along with your posture as you readjust in the chair.

Right. If you’ve admitted you’ve been aware of something tugging at your soul, then it’s reasonable to assume you’ve been able to sense whenever they’ve…

You realise they’ve made the connection between your confession and the slight flush heating your features. “I haven’t purposely sought those senses out,” you add hurriedly, sensing their mild shock, “they just sometimes wash over me—I don’t know how to block them out. And it felt too personal to ask Feyre, or even Rhys.” You look between them again, and a spark of nerves skitters from your side of the bond.

“That aside,” Nesta somehow manages, pushing away the thought of you being able to feel either of their pleasure—at all times of day. How much do you know about their coupling? How they like to play it in bed? “To be perfectly transparent, we hadn’t got to that point. As far as we were aware, you had no idea this connection even existed, and your behaviour was confusing.”

Your brow furrows ever so slightly, the smallest contraction of muscle, “how so?”

“You weren’t exactly subtle in your recent avoidance of us. Is that when you started to realise that there was something more between us?” Nesta asks, holding your gaze calmly. You swallow down your nerves, trying to calm yourself as your heart begins to accelerate. “I was developing feelings that were new to me. I didn’t know what they were, an to be honest, they made me feel uncomfortable. Disgusted, sometimes. So I think it was a reasonable response to have. As far as I was aware, you were a perfectly happy, mated couple that I had no business tampering with. Or invading.”

“So, it wasn’t out of a dislike for us,” Cassian says slowly, processing, “but rather you felt guilty for having a seemingly open pathway into our relationship.” You nod in confirmation, then flush a little.

“Have you ever felt anything from my end?” You ask.

“Occasionally a spark or two, like when you were with my brother yesterday,” Cassian answers, hiding his jealousy well.

“I sometimes feel a tug in the mornings—when Cass’s still asleep, so it couldn’t have come form him—but I can’t tell the emotion behind it,” Nesta adds on.

Your eyes again flick between them, teeth finding the inside of your lip. “You’ve never felt anything else? No…?” You trail off, and it takes a moment for them to figure out what you’re asking. “It’s not directed at you,” you hurriedly tack on, “it’s just a bother to go through a day with that in the back of your mind.”

“No,” Cassian answers, a little hoarsely, “we haven’t.” His throat woks as he stares at you, hands fisting on his thighs beneath the table. You nod to yourself, relieved they haven’t been able to sense you scratching that itch. Rare as it is for you to fall for that temptation.

“About how to progress from here,” Nesta diverts, getting a handle on the tension that had begun to thicken. “I’m sure one of our siblings would be happy to help in blocking out the senses—if that’s the direction you want to move in.”

“What other direction is there?” You ask carefully, watching them a little warily.

Cassian and Nesta share a look across from you, something passing between them that you can only catch the edge of. Their gazes return to you, and you can feel your hairs rise. Skin prickling. “We trust in the Mother’s choice,” Cassian admits slowly, attempting to select his words carefully but you can practically see the cogs turning in his mind as he tries to sort through the correct way to phrase what he’s wanting to say.

But, directness.

He sighs, shoulders loosing their tension as he leans back in his chair, giving Nesta a signal to take over. He doesn’t know what to say—she’s better suited for this task.

“We’d like you to join, but if you would rather take up lessons in strengthening your mental shields, we will not interfere with you anymore,” she says. Straightforward. But then you nod, as if in acceptance, “I think I would like that, then.”

Cassian stares between the two of you—how quickly that was sorted through. Maybe directness really was the solutions to his problems. He can practically picture Azriel’s shit-eating grin at the realisation he was right about you.

“Right,” Nesta breaks the silence, her voice slightly rough around the edges as something warm spills across the bond. “Well, we’ll take it slowly and see what happens. Is that fine with you?”

You nod, but add, “I’m not…” Your eyes dart about the room, as if debating telling them. Cassian sits a little straighter while Nesta leans forward openly. “I’m not that interested in sex. It’s never been a topic of interest for me. So I might… I’m not sure what ideas you had regarding intimacy, but I thought it better to be upfront about this.”

“Of course,” Nesta reassures, even if the slightest flicker of disappointment reaches Cassian’s side of the bond. “If you’d rather stay clear of that side of things, that’s fine. I’m sure we’ll find a way to work around the frenzy when the bond properly clicks,” she soothes, glancing at Cassian who nods in agreement.

“It’s not a hatred, or repulsion, or anything like that,” you say, quickly. “I wouldn’t mind trying, or it actually happening if it will help ease any tension brewing. I know it’s supposed to be more intense for the males—I don’t want to make things complicated.”

Cassian’s mind goes a little silent at the offer. Beside him, Nesta’s stiffened—so you won’t detect her scent, he realises. Good idea on her part. He copies her lead. “I suppose we’ll take that one when we get to it,” he says to you, offering a tentative smile designed to set people at ease.

They’re both relieved when your shoulders relax, hearing the soft puff of breath from your lips as you settle back in your chair. “Yeah,” you agree, “maybe that would be better. Let things happen as they’re supposed to.”

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22

#Nessian #Poly!nessian #poly!acotar #acotar #acosf #Nesta #Cassian #Nessian x fem!reader

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morfiveuscxo · 8 months

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ahoy, Buggy The Clown

LA!!Buggy the clown x fem!!assassin!!reader summary: y/n works for a very underground league of pirate assassins. They aren't too known and that was exactly how they liked to keep it. y/n had been with them as long as she could remember- killing whoever she was told to for money. But her next target was going to change her life. tw!! violence, sexism

The air was still as y/n walked through the destroyed village. A younger version of herself might have found this entire picture hard to look at- but being in this business has left her numb to it all.

Her target is a man called Orson. Known for the large scar going through his right eye and stretching down to his neck- Orson is a well-known and incredibly violent pirate. The person who hired her was a victim of his violence and was going to pay her handsomely for Orson's head on a stick.

The only issue was that Orson was a part of a crew named The Buggy Pirates, captained by someone who went by Buggy The Clown. Of course, y/n knew who he was, she wasn't completely ignorant. The clown has a 15,000,000 berry bounty hanging over his head.

But y/n hadn't been hired to go after the pirate captain- so she wouldn't be going after him.

She paused in her step when spotting a large circus tent ahead of her, it was the only thing in the entire village that wasn't levelled to pieces. Figuring that, that was where she was probably best heading to, she begin walking in its direction.

She's not an idiot so she had already unsheathed her sword from the sheath strapped to her back. Holding it out in front of her, she inched closer to the tent, listening closely for any footsteps that may be inside or behind her.

Lifting her hand, she lifted her mask up so it was covering the lower half of her face, her dark eyes were the only thing visible. Her mask and suit were dark so she could easily slip into the shadows if she needed to.

With one last inhale through the nose, she raised her sword and pushed the curtain to the side with the blade. It wasn't incredibly dark inside the tent but it also wasn't filled with light. In fact, the only source of light in the tent was the large spotlight down the centre of the wide room.

Her eyes scanned the room as she headed further and further in. But she wasn't seeing anyone. The tent was empty. Or it appeared to be empty.

But she knew there was no way that Orson wasn't in this tent. The tent was the only shelter for miles that wasn't destroyed- if Orson wasn't here then he was stupid. She had been tracking him for days, there was no way he wasn't here somewhere.

As she advanced further into the tent- she finally took notice that she was standing in a circus tent. She knew that the captain, Buggy, was rather fond of circus acts- he even dressed as a clown to complete the aesthetic. Or she assumed he did based on the picture on his wanted poster.

She paused in her step. Normal people don't tend to hear things that normal people don't usually hear, they don't need to. But an assassin? they have to be ready for anything and so they heighten their senses to the best of their abilities. One of these senses being their hearing.

Her pupils went small as she spun around, her sword pointed in the direction of the sound. However, she will admit, she wasn't expecting to see the captain, himself, standing there.

He looked just like his wanted poster. The same crazed grin, same big red nose, same circus clown makeup, same over-the-top pirate hat. He was taller than she expected him to be.

"Show's not on for another 5 hours, sweetheart."He mocked, taking a step forward- not caring about the sword pointed at him. But y/n, yet again, wasn't here for the clown.

And so she dropped her sword, clearly taking Buggy by surprise. --"Nice nose."She simply said from behind her mask. Irritation sparked behind the clown's eyes as he squinted at her.

"What?"He spat, thinking that she was making fun of him. But she wasn't. She only hummed and gestured to his face. --"Your nose. It's real, right?"She paused for a few seconds before shrugging her shoulders. --"It's cool."

This made the pirate captain pause for a second. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. y/n, though wasn't threatened by the man standing before her, never slid her sword back into its sheath.

"Orson."She said the target's name lazily, --"Where is he?" Buggy lifted a gloved finger to his chin, tapping it mockingly. --"Now that-"He paused, grinning menacingly, --"would be telling."He finished.

It's a good thing that y/n is a highly trained assassin, right?

The second Buggy had stopped his sentence she was spinning around with her sword raised at the defence just as another sword clashed against it.

And there stood the man she was here to kill, Orson. He was significantly taller than her, wore a red and white jester hat and his arms were bigger than her head. His scar was also a lot more intimidating than she had been told- it looked incredibly painful and led her to wonder what could have possibly given it to him.

But despite all of that- she still wasn't scared of him. In fact, if anything, that made her much more cocky. y/n was the very best at overcoming the odds.

I mean, why do you think she was given this target by her boss specifically? she's the only one suited for this type of hit.

She sprang back, using her athleticism to her advantage. Orson was attacking her top half- roughly might I add. Since that was the place he was striking- she decided to go low.

Whilst the jester and the assassin fought, the clown captain walked around to lean against a barrel. He was rather interested in the masked woman currently getting the better of his freak.

Springing back on her hands, she rolled to her knees where she swung her sword at the front of his feet, slicing the skin on impact instantly. Orson yelled out in pain and stumbled forward.

Annoyed, he rammed forward and wrapped his arms around the smaller woman- squeezing her as tightly as he could manage- lifting her off of her feet. Her spine started to creak causing her to let out a grunt of pain and swing her legs forward.

Pressing her feet to his chest she flipped backwards out of his grasp, but not before he grabbed ahold of her mask and clutched it in his fist with hatred.

Now she had no face protection and Orson was able to get a good look at what she looked like. But so did Buggy.

She wasn't what Buggy was expecting. y/n was a tanned woman with a small face and a mess of thick plum-purple hair. Her tanned skin was smooth despite the many small scars that littered her cheeks as well as one going through her right eyebrow. Fitting that her eyes were the darkest eyes Buggy had ever seen, given her profession.

Orson let out a pained laugh as he gestured to her. --"You are but a little girl and you expect to kill me? I could squish you like a bug, "He laughed and slapped a hand against his chest. --"Do you know who I am?!"He snapped as she fixed her footing.

He continued to stare at her- expecting a response but he didn't get one. Instead, she chuckled and gestured for him to come at her with a 'come here' hand gesture, a wide smirk on her lips.

Another annoyed look appeared on his face as he rushed towards her. With a grin of adrenaline, y/n ducked out of the way of his rapidly approaching forearm. When he spun around to strike her she swung her sword- successfully slashing his throat.

Orson completely went numb, his eyes going wide as his hands reached up towards his gushing throat. His half-dead eyes flickered over to his pirate captain who watched carelessly, his arms folded.

"C-Captain....-"He mumbled pathetically through gurgles as he collapsed to his knees. y/n completely ignored Buggy's existence as she kneeled down in front of Orson, lifting her hand so she was gripping the back of his head- tilting it back so he was forced to look at her.

"I'm actually 30..."She hummed in a bored tone- as if she didn't just slash his throat. --"Not a little girl."She clarified with a tight grin as she reached into her thigh holster, pulling out a dagger.

"Sarah sends her regards."She told him, speaking the name of the person who had hired her. And then, without a second thought, she slashed his throat again- this time much deeper. Blood splashed onto her face and she smirked and shoved Orson's dead body forward so he crashed to the ground.

Tilting her head to the ground, she reached for her mask only for something or rather, someone to beat her to it. Suddenly, a hand, and only a hand, flew from out of nowhere and grabbed ahold of her mask.

With furrowed eyebrows, she watched the hand fly right over her head and over to Buggy who now didn't have a right hand. She figured that he must have eaten a devil fruit at some point in his life- that would be why he could detach himself.

But she didn't care about that. She cared that he now had her mask in his returning hand. He grinned at her. --"Forget about me?"He questioned sarcastically as she stood her full height and walked towards him.

She really didn't want to kill this clown, not if she didn't have to. She wasn't tasked to kill Buggy so she wouldn't.

"I like you."He told her, pointing a finger at her. He held her mask over his head so she couldn't grab at it. --"I think..."He paused to lean forward a little so his nose was practically touching hers. --"I'll keep you."He declared.

She squinted at him. Her eyes flickered all over his face for a moment, never moving away from his uncomfortably close face. "I just killed one of your crewmates."She reminded him with raised eyebrows. --"What makes you think I won't kill you?"She hummed, folding her arms and taking another step closer to him if that was even possibly.

They were practically all up in each other's space, but neither of them seemed to care.

He laughed in response and leaned closer to boop her nose with his free finger. --"Because you couldn't kill me even if you tried."He grinned cockily. He then smacked his hands together and took a massive step back away from her.

"Now!"He exclaimed excitedly. --"How about we add some excitement to your life."He giggled, grinning widely. He then lifted his left arm, revealing that he no longer had his left hand.

And just as y/n was about to question him, there was a tap on her shoulder. This was completely out of the ordinary for her- she could hear people sneaking up on her- but how exactly was she supposed to hear floating body parts?!

There was Buggy's left hand, and it was clutching something. With a squeeze- a red cloud of smoke surrounded her head. She didn't even have time to comprehend what was happening before her eyes were rolling to the back of her head and she was beginning to lose consciousness.

The last thing she heard was Buggy laugh and say, --"We're going to have so much fun together!"

#fanfic #fanfiction #fypage #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #x reader #buggy the clown imagines #buggy the genius jester #one piece #netflix #imagines #oneshot #netflix series #live action #one piece series #jeff ward #captain buggy #lfl

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