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oh-allie · 1 day

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shakespeare and swooning

alhaitham x g/n reader

synopsis; you read one shakespeare play and now you want to impress your "buddy" alhaitham with your newfound knowledge !! what could go wrong?

fluff, g/n reader, TOTAL CRACKFIC, prick alhaitham, SWEARING, kind of a modern au ???? i mention "ringing tighnari" but that could just be imagined as using the akasha terminal !!!! didnt write this with a modern au in mind

warning ‼️ PLEASE dont expect this to be accurate, if youre a big classic literature fan then dont attack me for not being a NERD ☹️ just imagine a poser using their fancy words (because they think its cool)

you know how libraries are supposed to be a place of study and tranquility? no the fuck you don't, or at least you don't care, because running through the house of daena with shakespeares, "romeo and juliet," in your hands is NOT very tranquil.

multiple poor akademiya students look at you, PISSED OFF because your shoes are going clu-clonk on the marble floors, which wouldn't be an issue if you weren't scurrying through the library.

is that kaveh ?? he's giving you the same look he gives alhaitham every day ..

... but this is IMPORTANT !! you're on a MISSION right now !! you just finished reading the first act of "romeo and juliet," and you're convinced your brain has expanded tenfold in size.

you're now rushing to your good pal haitham to share your knowledge! how kind and gracious!

you're stopped before his house, you've known him for long enough and gotten close enough for him to let you come in whenever. you know kaveh isn't home, and haitham would never purposefully work overtime, so you're certain you can get his attention and show off in peace.

why are you so adamant about showing off to alhaitham? is it REALLY showing off, or are you trying to, heehee, impress him?? its too late to be flustered at this thought because you already unlocked the door with the spare key kaveh leaves behind one of haithams ugly ass decorative plants and you've taken off your shoes and oh god hes right there and the sunlight from the door is lighting up his face in that way that only happens to him and hes looking at you with a suprised, slightly annoyed, but incredibly fond look and oh no what was your plan again?

"greetings, alhaitham! ☝️🤓" you say, finding a surge of confidence remembering the story you read.

"... hey. what are you doing here?" his response is quick but before you respond he continues, "did you just say greetings?"

"indubidibdibdly! hath you be surprised?" you pretentious hipster. you think youre SO cool, but unfortunately your little crush doesn't seem very impressed either.

"okay, what are you doing? you're being weird." he's not even looking at you, and he's back in his chair before you can rush over and sit on the couch. "is something wrong? should i get tighnari to give you a checkup?"

you'd be touched by the care of the suggestion if he wasn't so cheeky in his tone.

"wha, what, no?! no what the hell- stop ringing tighnari."

"are thou o'er wrought with admiration?" you grin, somehow still under the impression that you sound cool.

he gives an eyebrow raise to that. not bothering to mark his place in his book, he stands up.

"i lie testy in why you act so unpregnant, my dear."

"what"

HUH ? what did bro just say ? testy ???? unpregnant ?? MY DEAR ??? backtrack again, UN-WHAT ??

"be still my beating heart, thou hast taken mine with absolute cunning." is he making fun of you i genuinely can't tell ... its like hes speaking in moon runes right now.

"haitham, heheh, WHAT are you DOING ??" you can't help but laugh at his funny little words, magic man. even if you're clueless to what he just said to you.

"whatever doth thou mean?" he's totally making fun of you !! after ALL your effort to impress him too?

"well, usually i do all the ranting and you sit pretty and listen, so it's weird that you're talking so much, especially like THAT?" fym sit pretty ....

"when words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain." that sounds familiar, but you can't think about it longer before he continues, "shall i compare thee to a summers day?"

"ALRIGHT, i recognize that one, dummy." you laugh, "were you really not impressed by me?" you whisper, the rush of embarrassment you shouldve felt in that library is finally catching up with you.

he stares at you for a second. you just wish you could find out what hes thinking up there, if you could even understand it.

and then he lets you into his mind, with a simple "i love you." as if alhaitham, renowned scribe of the akademiya, top student, couldn't find the words to describe how he felt for you.

or maybe that was what he felt for you. he loved you.

"... you called me unpregnant."

a/n; i read romeo and juliet like... 3 years ago.... so.. uam... 😇😇 totally accurate! hope this crackfic style of writing isnt too niche so this doesnt flop because EMBARRASSING....... do people even like al haitham anymore like guys lets go back to the good old days before the FRENCH came in..... (this is just me projecting cause i havent played genshin in a while and i still lovelove sumeru)

#al haitam x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #DONT LET THIS FLOP GANG IM PUTTING A LOT ON THE LINE POSTING GENSHIN FICS #shakespeare made up the word unpregnant #GUYS PLZPLZOLZ LIKE AND REBLOG SO I CAN SAY it popped off!!#WHEN PEOPLE ASK WHY I POSTED A GENSHIN FIC....#genshin x you #genshin impact x you #al haitham #al haitham x you #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham x y/n #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #al haitham x gender neutral reader #was listening 2 when will my life begin when writing 😇#alhiayham is my fancast for rapunzel !!!!#i started writing this in november of 2023 😇#allies fics #crackfic #crack fic #wait guys hear me out #crackship layla x alhaitham #IS LAYLA A MINOR WAIT #if she isnt then WOOOOWWWW CUTIE..!!!!#its cute

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theoryofwhatnow · 7 months

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the correct answer is Waiting for Forever, but i’m giving you a choice because Democracy or whatever

#i didn’t count vanity fair just because of how short his screen time was #and i don’t want you guys to be tempted to pick it just because it was long as shit and he was hardly there #i want to know which one you GENUINELY would never touch again #these are just the ones i’ve heard of/seen #feel free to throw more in the tags #i’ve seen quite a few of them tho #all but the last four #you can answer even if you’ve only seen two of these #just pick the one of the two you thought was worse #no i’m not counting a waste of shame either that would be too easy #the sandman #tom sturridge #like minds #remainder movie #on the road #far from the madding crowd #pirate radio #the boat that rocked #effie grey #being julia #waiting for forever #mary shelley #velvet buzzsaw #junkhearts 2011 #nigel colbie #carlo marx #will donner #jon dondon #francis troy #roger gosselyn

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hxltic · 9 months

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ghost yellin pt. 2!! (and 2k followers. omg.)

(mention of blood n knives n stuff in here)

pt. 1~~~

It was still early in the morning when your puffy eyes blink open. Despite the mission that had your arrival around 3-ish in the morning, it was still the crack of dawn, which meant the start of your day, mission or not.

The warmth you had longed for encased you, but today, it felt unfamiliar.

You hadn’t forgotten about yesterday (or earlier today). And even though what happened upset you, you’d still wanted him, so you could feel the comfort your father never gave you after an argument. You’d never received a genuine apology from him, just an offer for new shoes or to go to your favorite restaurant that day.

Even in anguish after what he did, you still wanted his touch. Or that may have been what you thought, because now you were peeling his strong arms off you, and creeping to the bedside. You cautiously swing your legs over and slowly step to the door, but even though you were going unbelievably slow, the pain underneath your feet made you wince.

“Wait—”

There’s a gruff voice that your back is turned to, making you jump at the realization he was awake. You had been taught all your life to fight when your fight or flight response flickers, but he noticed how you almost bolted towards your room.

He had been awake the whole time. He’d vouched to himself he wouldn’t close his eyes until your breaths were regular again, but even after they had, he’d barely gotten any sleep. If he had tears left to cry, one would’ve slipped.

Whenever he did fall to the night, in any circumstance, his body physically would prevent him from staying such. He was a light sleeper to another extreme. His body was trained by none other than trauma and instinct. So when he felt you raising his arm, he’d awakened and watched you do everything silently.

He would’ve said something, but he didn’t know what. An apology would sound fake in this situation.

Ghost was a hands-on man, so he moved. His large body flipped the covers off him and hastily brought itself to you.

The last time you’d let him get close, he screamed in your face. You took an involuntary step back, but had you thought about it you probably would’ve taken it anyway. His quick steps pause.

He gazes into your frozen eyes, glistening and pretty even in upset, but underneath carrying fear and shock.

Seeing him, one side of you wanted to apologize for not taking your job seriously, even though you did, or say you were sorry for the other things he mentioned. And you may have when you were 13, but you were a strong woman that built off men’s bullshit over the years, so you hold your ground.

He shrunk himself and moved effectively before you. No unnecessary movements.

“Please. Wait.”

You could tell he was trying to make his voice soft, but the octave and accent just did not allow it. He was trying though.

Do you book it, or stay?

You stay, to hear him. He recognizes your stance as one specifically military-taught, ready to move.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you. I should’ve been better,” he started. You’d come to realize even with small issues, he was an okay apologizer. “I’m sorry. You’re the last person who deserved that.”

He inspected the way you heard him but just stood there awkwardly. You were never awkward around him. In fact, he was the awkward one.

His heart dropped at how visibly uncomfortable you looked. He wanted to touch you—to take all your problems away, but it wouldn’t work this time. Not when he was the problem.

Ghost was the type of person to do anything for you, anything to get you back. You were the only one who saw him as Simon now, ever since the others died or were killed. He ruined that.

He let the mask get the best of him, finally turning into the murderous, scary man the world sees him as, everyone but you. You’d never been afraid of him, and he himself had changed that.

So in the silence he scans your beautiful eyes again, the brightness they usually reflect gone and replaced. You blink at him like a puppy. A small, scared puppy.

He’d made you cry. He’d made you cry.

He wasn’t expecting forgiveness, or your usual unconditional love, but the silence was too much to bear. He knows what he did, but he genuinely has no idea how he could make it up to you. Once you realize the conversation was over, and that’s all he had to say, you turn your head and limp past the doorway to your room. You were going to cry again.

But that was far from what he wanted to say.

He didn’t realize it when a tear of his own bundled up under his blonde eyelashes, a feeling so rare that people’s jokes about him being a robot could seem true. It had been so long, but watching you sadly walk away from him was enough.

The door was wide open, but he stood there, feeling more useless than he ever had.

These were the times he wished his mother was here. To tell him what to do. To spread the emotional knowledge of loving someone so much it pained you, something she had perfected over the years. Instead, he picked up the brutalities of his father. And he will never forgive him for that.

. .

You’d avoided him for an entire day, almost two, despite being in such close proximity and having to do everything with the squad. He didn’t know whether to leave you be or try again and again. Ultimately, he picked the first. That didn’t mean there weren’t subtle things to get your attention though.

He couldn’t think about yelling again. But it was only at you. So everyone else was graced with their lieutenant in a worse mood than he’s usually in, but they wouldn’t dare ask what was up or say anything to you. Actually, they had barely spoken to you like they had orders not to.

Ghost was rarely in the common room anyway, but now he was really tucked away in his quarters. He preserved his words, though even then they were still snappy. He had an attitude, yes, but he’d come to his senses enough to reflect and prevent himself from saying anything potentially hurtful.

He’d cherished the moments you had no choice but to be close to him a lot more than before, and his voice was barely even the tone of regular speech. Because now, he was scared.

He’d seen how bad relationships can turn, and it doesn’t help it was the man he’s seen all his life ruining what a woman gave him. He doesn’t want to be like that. And if he already has been, he tries to calm himself at night by running through his head “you’re already better than him by trying to fix it,” like a mantra. He’s cried the nights without you. He felt like he was floating away all the time, away from the Earth and the people around him. He barely knows himself anymore.

Little does he know, the time spent without him converted your sadness to anger. Rage.

He has the audacity to scream in your face? After all you do for him? After you put your life on the fucking line and take bullets for him every day?

With your father, it never did convert to anger, because you refused to let it. Being a child, you were way too dependent on him emotionally and physically. He was still your dad, you’d think.

And yes, while you loved Simon, there wasn’t the biological connection to pressure you to him. He was just a man. And if there’s anything you learned yourself, it was that you wouldn’t be pushed around by one.

So the day progressed on with an assignment. The troops were sent out, Ghost in charge.

He had made an order to surround the building, stay hidden in tall grass. A few would push in. They were armed and dangerous.

His voice was loud through the comms, going directly through the headset clear as day. Your team pressed forward alongside his. He had made every order around the fact that you needed to be right next to him, always in view, so he could keep his watchful eye out.

You crouched around the corner, waiting for command. You whisper in mic to your own squad, instructing them to watch for third-party while everyone’s idle.

The second he calls it, you all infiltrate right after smoke grenades set off. It was quickly cleared of the criminal within a few minutes because there weren’t many to take out, just a few in nooks and crannies, but one of them had caught you through a closet door. It had small blinded windows in it.

A quick sharp pain let you know there was a knife drilled into your side. It was small, and could be a lot deeper, but it still hurt like a bitch.

You had taken worse, so you gunned him down with a swift turn and ignored it. The adrenaline was medicine.

Once everyone returned to base with evac, people noticed the spot of red on your uniform but brushed it off as a battle scar. Until they saw the knife. It would be stupid to remove it.

“That looks pretty bad, you should get that patched up,” someone says. Someone you didn’t know, probably from another unit. You refrain from saying no shit and keep walking to the infirmary.

You finally decide remove it with added pressure to the wound, keeping the gauze close and the slim slit through your skin tight. The adrenaline was wearing off now and everything started to come back to you. You groan loudly when you touch it.

Red stains your fingers. It wasn’t deep but it had to be pulled out, and standing would be hard. You sit to see what you were doing.

“Fuck!” you yell.

The pain was ten times worse when you sat down, the fold of your body at the hip right underneath the opening. You feel like you could imagine the knife scraping other parts of your insides.

Suddenly the door opens. No one other than Ghost stands there, fully in gear, searching for the source of the cry. Once he locates you, you barely hear him murmur “bloody hell.” You glance up at him, then back down to what you were doing. He tries to ignore the equivalent stab in his heart at that, the one that matched the way his face drops at the sight of you. You would be able to see the white of his eyes through the mask if you’d look at him.

You were unconsciously trembling, attempting to mentally prepare yourself to pull the knife out slow. The man before you just watched.

“Get out,” you demanded.

“No,” he calmly replies. Once again, barely above a whisper, but heavy with accent.

You visibly roll your eyes and continue picking at the knife, trying to find the easiest way to retrieve it. Of course Ghost would take this time to be near you when you can’t run away from him.

He removes his gloves and opens the cabinets beside him, getting peroxide and other medical things. He walks to you with them in hand, and you bring it upon yourself to completely ignore him.

He steadily drops to a knee in front of you so you see eye to eye. You hiss when you pull at one side and it doesn’t work.

Softly, he breaks the silence, “When did this happen?”

No response. He was looking you dead in the eyes despite how horrible at eye contact he usually is.

“When did-“

“Earlier, Lieutenant.” You speak. He knows this was you digging at him. It worked, but he brushes it off.

He reaches his bare hands rid of the supplies up to help you. He was mad at nobody other than himself for not being there.

“Stop,” you shoo his hand away, tending back to your wound. Even though he wanted to help, he backed off.

To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, and he’d probably had this happen a thousand times. He was inevitably better at medical anything compared to you.

“How did it happen?” He waits. Wasting time talking to him will have you bleeding out. The knife was a little under halfway visible.

“I was taking my job seriously, Lieutenant.”

He cringes at the words he’s shameful to call his own. He wants nothing more than for you to at least be on speaking terms with him, but even that he knows he doesn’t deserve. He sighs deeply.

“I’m sorry, let me help you. Please,” he begs.

“I don’t want your help, and you don’t want mine. So we can keep it that way.”

What he said that night was far from true; you did more than just help him. He was dependent on you. He surveys the way you hiss at the straining feeling, attempting to take deep breaths between tugs, but only making it worse. He won’t let everything you’re throwing at him break him down in this state.

“Grab it from the top, do it all at once. Then stop the blood immediately.”

You huff in annoyance at his words, causing yourself pain from your own irritation. But, he did know what he was doing, so you followed the orders. He inspects you.

You tug on the knife with a painful deep breath and moan at the pain, shutting your eyes. The view alone gives Simon whatever you’re feeling tenfold.

It only goes up about a centimeter. It hurt so bad though, your breaths were heavy and enhancing the stinging sensation. Your audible whimper was enough for the man in front of you to take action.

You almost forgot how mad you were at him from the pain, so when his hands reached up to you, you just let them. His right applied pressure to the sides. He couldn’t care that it stained his rough, pale hands. The left rests on your hand planted on the seat, then he instructs you to lay down. It’ll avoid scratching any more areas inside by stretching out.

“Relax. It’ll hurt, but you got it.”

You don’t respond to this, and stare up at the ceiling. You still didn’t want to look at him.

Simon has to remember you were still fairly untouched in comparison to his background in the military, the scars and scratches proof to where he’s been. He’s not used to being gentle. He’s around grown men for god’s sake.

And while he knows you’re strong, he wishes someone took the time to allow him some vulnerability back then.

You’re on your back, awaiting his next move. He hovers over you.

“I’mna to count to three, alright? I know you can do it.”

You blink, but he knows you can hear him. Somehow it hurts worse to breathe so your chest runs shallow.

“One,” he starts.

Were you ready? He was going to-

You scream loud enough to have the entire base questioning what was going on before he gets to three, but Simon’s face doesn’t falter from his soft expression as he accurately rips the object out of you. Your hands subconsciously reach for his, then grip him with a pure strength you didn’t even know you possessed. You yelled a long line of curses with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes until it all ended as fast as it came.

You were heaving and your face was hot, sweat gathering along your hairline.

“There you go,” he praises, his movements were quick and efficient. The tape was being placed over the filled injury. “Good girl.”

You were breathless, tired, and red. You wanted to lay down.

“It hurts, Simon,” you whisper.

“I know baby, I know.”

. .

You laid in bed with the dinner one of the soldiers brought you. Simon walks in sometime later, his hand cupped.

“You alright?”

He steps in beside your bed, sitting on the covers. He releases some painkillers right next to the water on your nightstand.

You just nod.

He nods approvingly back, then rests his forearms on his thighs. There’s an uncomfortable silence. An uncomfortable silence.

The ink on his arm was visible along with the scars he’s carried. Some new, some old. It’s a simple t-shirt that stops at the bicep, but he never likes to have his arms out because he’s never comfortable with them showing.

“I just wanted to say—”

“I…don’t want to hear it.” You shut him down.

“Please?”

His ocean eyes survey yours for some type of mercy, some hint you’ll hear him out again. He has concluded that he can speak, but the worst that can happen is you’ll stop listening. You can’t really walk away.

And this was the first time his please seemed to end with a question mark.

“I didn’t mean to yell, but I did, and it hurt you. Even though I just aided you, I did it as a partner. Not just a comrade. You are great at what you do, but you mean a lot more to me than just business—I love you, because you see me differently than everyone else.”

Knowing Simon, it probably did take him the whole day and a half to come up with that and relay it. This tugged your heart strings a little, but then it all came back to you.

“On top of calling me useless you yelled in my face. What were you so angry for anyway?”

Truthfully, he felt that had he told you the real reason, It’d make him look worse. But you deserved it.

“One of the soldiers in another unit looked into my background. Found out about an old mission and the people behind it.”

You hadn’t known much about Simon’s life, because he never talks about it, but you knew enough. It was the mission where he was set up. Betrayed.

You would be pissed too.

But his head hung low in shame, angry that he let an old part of him rekindle in the form of fury. He let out said fury on you.

“Regardless, it was uncalled for. Just think on it, yeah?” He pleads. He’s not sure what he’s telling you to think on, though he doesn’t know the active status of your relationship. But he understands how degrading what he did was, and he’ll never forgive himself for it.

But you already had an answer.

“I don’t have to think on it,” you say.

His head whips around, the sadness on his face replaced with shock, and the crinkles coming to form between his brows in confusion. He’d expected the worst, but the worst was what he deserved.

“I’m still very upset. But I don’t hate you. I want you to go to therapy,” you insist.

On the inside, Simon was thrilled. This is the best outcome, better than anything he’d conjured up in his head, and he’d been told a billion times to go to therapy. If it meant being able to hold you again, he’d stay the whole day on a little couch instead of downing prescribed medication that wasn’t working every night.

“I’ll think about what to do from there. But I don’t want it to happen again, because I promise I know what my decision will be the next time,” you declare. He took this message more seriously than he takes Price some days. There was a fire in your eyes to show him how serious you were, and that you’d get up extra close to him just to point your finger in his face if you could.

He understood you hadn’t forgave him, but was giving him some type of redemption. So he could prove himself.

And he was damn good at proving himself worthy of things, hence the Lieutenant in front of his name.

this a lil long. @thesecretwriter @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @jjmoonjj @bigmannico @bloodyquillink-blog @boggiesho @earth-to-lottie @e1fade @instantplaiddream @mentallyillartist @stillinracooncity @missborntodiex @rhyanna6012 @hao-ming-8 @starrrchiato @goth-boi-atlas @keiva1000 @pampeop @sleepy-time-dreamy @laurenbenoit70 @tojis-big-daddy-milkers @jstarrs23423 @madameducyberversailles @eri-channnnnnn @schmelscorner @commandertorinshepard @lua83727 @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @nyannyanmochi020 @p1nkliquor

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

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I feel like Graves would end up with a really soft and innocent s/o just because he loves being the 'strong man' lol and even though they're maybe even smaller than him all sweet and shy- he is absolutely whipped for them! Especially if they can cook and be a lil housemaker for him??

♡♡♡ warning(s): nsfw + sfw, fem!reader

─── graves and his homemaker s/o ❤︎₊ ⊹

there's no one on earth more loved and adored by him, despite the stigma surrounding the dynamic you two have. he doesn't pay any mind to their judgements. in his heart, he knows how tender he is with you behind closed doors. and in yours, he hopes.

you never pictured it to end up this way. before, you were like any adult. busting your ass at work, ending each week exhausted and struggling to buy yourself groceries.

and then you met him. chivalrous and borderline self-obsessed. but you weren't being patronized when he acted with traditional courtesy. you weren't a body to be claimed or a trophy to hang on his arm.

you were merely his. all his within months of meeting, and that meant you were to be taken care of. spoiled rotten, some would say. what better way to have it? compared to your old life of hardship, it was paradise.

everything paid for, without a second of hesitation. what little savings you had idle in your bank account, untouched when he's around.

he can and will take care of you — in every way. it's in graves' nature to provide.

no different than he does for his men, only you've been appointed the privilege of seeing the gentler side of him, when the uniform of a commander is rid of his scarred body.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈nsfw under the cut!

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙˖⁺₊˚⊹♡ it's only fair, to be taken care of in every way possible. you've been so good to him, so good for him, right? there's no quicker way to his heart, than someone who enjoys being smothered with his praise.

what better sight, than opening the door and seeing you concerning with such trivial things. he spent the day making life or death decisions, and you're there; concerned with which centerpiece looks best on the dining table. some men would see it as a means for competition, or a degrade — but graves finds it irresistible.

the house smells divine; your scented candles, the fragrance you spritz, and whatever you have baking in the oven. he can practically feel the tension leave his shoulders, how his senses come alive when greeted with the comfort of your shared home.

you've dressed nice for him again, though he always gave no pressure for you to do so. clothes to match the summer heat, hair styled and pinned back to stay out of the way.

you, in your domestic, relaxed state — the one thing better than all the trivial pleasures in life, better than the house you were both standing in.

though you usual greet him, you're immersed in the centerpiece debate. you hold the two pieces up to him, "do you think I should go with the silver candle candleholders? or how about the brass ones?" it's a genuine question, but it's only met with an amused scoff — a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

graves sets aside his luggage, stepping closer to you and your very concentrated gaze. "why do you ask me, sweetheart? it's up to you. and if you don't like 'em, we'll go buy more." he examines the decor in your hands briefly, but his eyes end up back on you permanently.

"just want it to look nice in here," you sigh at his dismissal, turning away to resume contemplation. "we have that supper planned in a few weeks, don't we?" you add, setting the options back on the oak table.

as if the place could be more meticulously decorated. there was barely a trace of him in this house, except for his nightstand and office. you had free reign to adjust the home to your taste, considering you were the one who spent most of your time there.

a gentle chuckle rang from him, followed by a click of his tongue, "don't think it can get much nicer in here, darlin'. i reckon you've left a touch on just about every inch of place, haven't you?" you shoot a flustered look, even though his words are truthful.

it was a silly dilemma, considering not a soul would be criticizing your centerpiece decision. "oh, c'mon, don't do that face... my guys will eat anything you slide in front of them, you know that? could host the damn supper in the closet and you'd charm the daylights out of 'em." he says, soothing every worry down to a simmer rather than a hard boil.

he's definitely good at shutting you up. only, in the most embellished of ways. without fail, a charmed smile spread on your face — as did a surge of warmth. graves cupped one of your cheeks, running his thumb along it, "see? much better than a scowl. now, tell me, what's cooking?"

"you know the rules. i can't tell you until the timer beeps. besides, it's supposed to be a surprise." you replied, making a meek escape from his gentle grasp. displayed on the small screen; eight minutes remained.

with a hasty yank and then a stumble on your end, your back was against his chest. "i don't like surprises, do i?" you felt the sensation of his teeth nibbling along the side of your neck, all in the midst of his patterned kisses. when he was this close, he got deep whiffs of your intoxicating perfume, the freshly shampooed hair on your head, the detergent you insisted he buy. heart-stopping — like it was every time he pulled you close.

it was true, he hated them. the tickle of his lips made you squirm — a futile attempt to slip away and leave him hanging. that never worked, and you knew it. "we're down to five, time's a-wastin'."

somehow, someway, neither of you made it up the stairs this time. all he did to prepare was send the stacks of mail flying from the island; the one you found yourself sitting on. graves stood between your legs, his caressing fingers your means of preparation. though, by the times your legs were exposed to the breeze — you and your body were eager enough for him.

the minutes decreased no matter how hurriedly he moved, and he always stuck to his rules. if there was a time limit, he'd get it done before zero.

"been thinking about you all day," he breathes. "by the looks of it, you have too, sweetheart." his tip prodded at your slick entrance, while the other hand hooked around your thigh to keep it hiked up with ease. wasn't the first time he ravished you on the kitchen counters, it certainly wouldn't be the last. slowly at first, then all at once — he thrusted inside of you.

once he got situated, there was no stopping him. every rock of his hips was purposeful and deep, yet his kisses remained delicate and tender. your moans muffled against his mouth, his lips pinkish and coated with saliva as it roamed your warmed face.

soon, your back was flat against the island with your legs still hanging off and in his grip. with every methodical movement, your walls tightened around his length and edged him closer to a finish. by now, you were certain your appearance was faulty; either ruined by sweat or the constant hands graves had on you.

despite being close within the first few minutes, he had gotten carried away ogling you. your gasps, your squinted eyes, the teeth indents on your bottom lip from how harshly you sunk into it. however, now there wasn't any restraint left in him. the tight coil in his abdomen begged for release, no matter how much stamina that remained in his body.

as the clock struck zero, he bottomed out with the force of his whole body — spilling every last drop inside of you. the oven beeped three times, as if on cue.

a string of curses against your lips as he leaned down to kiss you, sneaking in a few sloppy thrusts afterward. "i'll make it up to you later, make it worth your while." he pecked along your jaw, adjusting the strap of your top that had slid down your arm.

"it was worth my while." you replied between catching your breath, voice still quivering slightly.

he chuckled, fingers still playing with the fabric, "so, what's cooking? have i earned my right to know?" he was right; you always told him once the meal was ready, and that's what it was right now. the aroma hit your nostrils, as intoxicating as he found yours.

your eyes flicked over to the digital screen, still flashing and urging you to remove the pan, then it beeped for a second round as a reminder. "just a roast your mom taught me. thought you would've recognized the smell by now." you uttered, tracing your fingers along his blond stubble.

"hm, something must've distracted me, darlin'," he ran a tongue along his bottom lip, now gazing with admiration rather than hunger.

then, his brow raised with interest. both in humor and intense dread he added, "you've been calling my mother?"

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut #phillip graves cod #graves x you #graves smut #graves x reader #graves headcanons #commander graves #shadow company #task force 141 x reader #141 headcanons #cod headcanons #philip graves

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gay-dorito-dust · 5 months

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How about something about being a very soft and feminine person, strong independent in their own way, with Mizu. I like to think she is joins the party and acts as the “woman” for the group, and she just genuinely is a good person. I just want to see Mizu with someone who just cares about them.

This was way too long and whatever else you wanna call it.

‘You’ll die.’ Mizu puts bluntly.

‘I don’t care. I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.’ You shrugged, mind made up as you already have packed your essentials for the departure overnight.

Mizu closed their eyes, sighing deeply through the nose before opening their eyes once more to look directly at you with their usual stare. ‘I won’t be held responsible if you were killed unawares.’ They said but the fire of excitement and adventure within your eyes hasn’t faltered once.

Mizu can only wonder how they attract people of similar natures in one way or the other to trail after them like a little horde of stubborn ducklings; A question they’ll couldn’t quite find the answer for.

You have been prone to leave Mizu perplexed since your first met after healing them of their wounds after a particularly heinous fight. Your soft touches and kind encouraging words brought about uncertain feelings within Mizu. Making them feel as though they have somehow ventured off into unfamiliar territory, immediately sending them to act out in self defensive tactics.

Constantly looking over their shoulder, hand clutching at the hilt of their sword, ears and eyes honing in on every snaps of branches and the rustling of bushes, waiting for a potential ambushes or ransacking attempts. Anything that would put their life in any and all levels of risk.

Mizu found themself in a battlefield they weren’t well versed in whenever your face shone with a bright smile upon seeing them in the mornings, presenting them with the clothes they’ve entrusted to you to sew up the worn and torn fabric, seeing as how only you were the one with the tools and the experience for the job. Or how you would often help fix up breakfast for everyone but always end up making yours last, when Mizu asked about this, you just shrugged and told them that you’d rather survive off of scraps if it meant others having full, warm and satisfied bellies.

Mizu only scoffs at this, not thinking too much into your words, but their sharp eyes would immeditly notice the difference in the amount of food you gave them before looking at your own proportions; which was enough to satiate your hunger for the time being but it was obvious that you gave larger portions of food to them. Their eyes would soften somewhat at the gesture, knowing that your words were more than just words, only to harden afterwards when catching you given them frequent side glances.

You would also patch up reopened words that were in harder to reach for Mizu or Tiagen to get to by themselves , much to Mizu’s dismay at the thought of being in such a vulnerable and open position for sabotage. However under your watchful eye, Mizu had learnt over a long period of time to put their trust into you and your seemingly never ending well of talents.

‘Stop doing stuff that’ll only reopen your wounds,’ you scolded, finishing sealing up the last of Mizu’s wounds with a final stitch. ‘I’m staring to run out of thread and alcohol to disinfect the needle with the rate you and Taigen are going at!’ You added, putting your hands on your hips like a disappointed parent.

‘If it displeases you so much to waste resources, then why bother healing me in the first place.’ Mizu responded straightforwardly as they slowly refitted their clothing on their body whilst trying not to reopen any wounds as to not waste the effort you put into putting them back together again. You huffed, knowing that Mizu was still a little on edge with you and the kindness you went out of your way to give them.

You didn’t blame them for being the way they were and only accepted this as their way of acting the only way they knew how and went to sit down next to them, remembering to keep some distance for keep Mizu from unwarranted contact. ‘It’s not the resources that I’m worried about. It’s you.’ You admitted, seeing Mizu look at you from the corner of your eye, looking as though they weren’t expecting that type of response to come from your mouth. That reaction only hurt your heart knowing that a concerning about of people lacked empathy towards their fellow man. It genuinely disgusted you at how easy it was for them to show you their back the moment you’ve outgrown your usage.

‘Me? Why?’ Mizu asked.

You chuckled humourlessly. ‘Is it a sin for me to be concerned about you? To worry about you whenever you come back from where ever you wander off to, suddenly unable to stand on your own two feet without collapsing from immense blood loss?’ Mizu reminded silent and so you took that as a sign to continue. ‘Am I expected to just stand there and not do anything? I’m sorry but I’d rather wast every resource I own on you because if it meant bettering your chances of survival, even if by a margin, then I’d do anything to make that possibility into a guarantee.’ You finished with a smile before getting up to your feet and leaving the room to give Mizu privacy and time to process your words.

Meanwhile Mizu was back to feeling those foreign emotions. They weren’t use to someone caring for them to the extent that you did, not without wanting something in exchange but Mizu noticed that you haven’t even once asked for anything in return for making them breakfast, sewing up their clothes, gifting them sharping stones for their sword nor patching up their wounds. All you did was take care of them and their every needs, so much so that they felt a weird warm within their chest at the memory of your bright smile that you gave them after everything.

You were sweet and soft but strong, firm in your beliefs and posses a strong independence. A true diamond in the rough in regard to everything they’ve bore witness to since childhood. Your attitude towards them was an extreme contrast to everyone else’s, it often caught Mizu off guard in the odd occasion but it wasn’t until now did Mizu come to realised how much their body ached to be tended and cared for by someone like you. They’ve persevered through the hardships they’re forced to call life and bore the scars of said hardships in a multitude of places upon their body, both new and old.

Mizu was use to being alone but now that you entered their life, they were starting to think that they don’t wanna be alone anymore but was a tad hesitant to make the first move on their own accord. If Mizu was grateful for one thing in life, it was the fact that you were in it and by their side for the indefinite future.

#blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu imagines #mizu imagine #blue eye samurai imagine #blue eye samurai imagines #Netflix

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kiibichio · 1 month

Text

SAY IT ✩ C. STURNIOLO

OVERVIEW ;; last time you and your boyfriend, chris, had sex, his brothers heard you, you two played it off and managed not to get caught. but ever since, you’ve been insecure about your volume.. so you try to hide your noises, but chris fixes that.

CONTAINS ;; dom ! chris, sub ! reader, no use of y/n, begging kink (?), hella praise

mora speaks ;; so i was listening to say it by tory lanez and i thought abt this fic . then it left my mind 😭 THEN i saw an EDIT OF CHRIS to the song and i knew i just had to get this done. SO HERE WE AREE !! ENJOY 🙏🏾 (btw we jump straight into the story so buckle up)

date published ;; 3.20.24

not proofread

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4:11 pm

chris slams his lips onto mine while grabbing my hips and positioning me so im straddling him.

“god, baby..” he mumbles onto my mouth, “ive been waiting to do this since you got here..”

i came over to my boyfriend, chris’, house to visit my him and my friends (nick and matt). although they left about 20 minutes after i got here. claiming they were ‘getting food’ but they would probably be a while considering they never come straight back home. chris immediately took his chance and dragged me downstairs to his room eagerly. as soon as he got in he began taking his hoodie off and throwing on the floor, followed by mine. which brings us here.

after a good 5 minutes of making out, chris stops. he realizes he hadn’t gotten a sound out of me at all, which is odd because im usually the most vocal out of us two. this whole time it’s been ‘so good baby’ and ‘i missed you so much’ combined with small whimpers and quiet groans from chris. but none from me.

“hey, you’re real quiet. something wrong, ma? is it me?” he genuinely looks at me.

i sigh. there was something wrong.

“no, no! chris, baby, you did nothing wrong. you’re doing great. it’s just..”

“you can tell me. im here to listen and i won’t judge.” chris reassures me as he rubs my shoulder

“well.. it’s just- ever since that one time last week. you know, when matt and nick heard us?”

he nods, making eye contact with me.

“ive been thinking im too loud and extra… so im trying to change that. i don’t want to be an inconvenience to everyone else.”

which was true because who wants to hear me and chris fuck everytime we do. that’s also embarrassing to deal with. getting weird looks from your friends because of something that you’re were supposed to keep private, but couldn’t because of your volume? crazy.

he stares at me for a moment. did i say something wrong? then he chuckles.

“hey! what are you laughing for? i thought you said you wouldn’t judge.” i huff, pouting my lips and crossing my arms.

he throws his head back and continues to laugh, “baby.. are you serious? matt and nick aren’t even here right now.”

i look away from him, arms still crossed.

“hey. look at me, ma.” chris grabs hold of my chin and moves it, forcing me to make direct eye contact with him, “i do not care if my brothers hear us. i swear. i want everyone to know that you’re mine and im yours. i need to hear you say it. make all the noise you want, baby.”

“are you sure, chris?” i ask hesitantly

“100% positive”

he doesn’t let me respond again and immediately starts kissing me. he moves his hands up and down my body slowly, his left hand going to my ass and the right one moving to unclasps my bra under my shirt. he breaks away and his mouth travels towards my neck and chest area.

“mmh.. chris..” i whine.

“there’s my girl, keep those same pretty noises up for me while im inside of you.” he smirks against my collarbone.

he flips us over as to where im laying down on my back and he’s hovering over me. he starts moving his face downwards, leaving a trail of kisses on my stomach behind him. he hurriedly takes my pants and underwear off with one pull.

“ready, ma?” he breathes against my heat

“mhm..” i whimper

“louder, i can’t hear you.” he says teasingly

“yes, chris, please just touch me” i say, starting to beg, which i know he likes.

“whatever you say, princess.” he gives a sly grin before completely going down on me, eating as if this is his last meal.

“ohhh… fuckkkkk, just like that chris. keep going baby.” i moan loudly

chris smirks against me. hearing my noises is just turning him on even more. this makes him move his mouth faster. he loudly slurps and licks on me, trying to get more noises out of me as he lets his own out himself. my legs start to wriggle and close a bit, trying to get more pleasure. chris takes notice of this and holds them open and still with his left hand, his right being occupied with my clit, which he was toying with at a rapid pace.

“mmh.. taste s’good, baby. s’good.” he moans, face deep in my pussy, moving and hitting all the right places. he starts to quickly motion his tongue in and out of me. hands still on my clit and legs, holding them open.

“mghh.. yes, chris right there!” i yell out as my legs start shaking “b-baby, im about to-”

“do it. cum all over my face ma.” he mumurs

with one final flick of my clit, i burst and my juices start rolling onto chris’s mouth. he happily laps all of it up.

chris lifts himself up to give me a slow, heated kiss, making me taste myself on his tongue.

“you’re so good, princess. lets see if you can be even louder.” he smirks, winking at me.

he pulls his sweatpants down, his boxers following after. he gives himself a few pumps, spreading the precum all over his dick. chris looks up at me.

“ready, baby?” he asks, sweetly, lining himself up with me.

“yes, chris.. please” i whimper

he gives a small, silent chuckle at my begging before pushing himself all the way in me. he gives me a few seconds to adjust before slamming in and out of me.

“ohhh! oh my g-god…” i moan out

“yea, baby. say it. who’s making you feel like this?” he asks, relentlessly pounding into me

“you! fuckkkkk.. you chris. only y-you baby mmm..” i yell

all that’s heard now is the sound of squelching, coming from the spot where me and chris connect, moans, groans, whimpers and whines from the both of us, and skin slapping. a few moments later, he speeds up, now rapidly thrusting against me.

“chris! oh. shit shit shit shit. b-baby im close!” i warn, my legs starting to shake and my body starting to tremble under him.

“c’mon, baby. let it all out on me.” i can tell he’s close to by the way he tightens his grip on my waist and his thrusts get faster and sloppier.

“fill me up, baby. p-please.” i request.

that sentence alone makes him cum right there. and im close behind him, letting out a pornographic moan as i let my liquids out. chris’ thrusts slow down as he lets both of us ride out our high.

he pulls out and falls beside me as we take a few moments to breathe.

“that was great, baby.” he smiles at me, turning on his side so he can look at me.

“yea, you did amazing” i reply, giving him a smile as well

“im gonna go get a towel to clean us up.” he lifts himself up and makes his way to the bathroom. he returns with a damp towel and wipes me down. after that, we both get up to get dressed and make our way back to the living room. we put on a movie and wait for matt and nick to get back.

“ma.” chris looks at me.

“yes, baby?”

“do me a favor and don’t ever hide those pretty sounds from me again.” he says

“you got it baby” i laugh as i pull him and give him a soft kiss.

——————————————————————————————

mora speaks (again) ;; lmk if you guys enjoyed this oneee. i really liked writing because this is my first chris smut ‼️ ALSO MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN SO REQUEST AWAYYY. (might take me some time to do them but i will get to them !!) TOODLES <3

tag list ;; @sturniolos-blog @mayhem-72 @hearts4chris 🍵

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satorusugurugurl · 7 days

Text

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 4,782

Warning: cursing, asshole Toji, mentions of blood, physical altercations—👀

A/N:The long-awaited part five! This was so satisfying to write. I hope you all enjoy it!! I think we have maybe one part left, maybe two. Omg! 🥹💚, If you want to be in the tag list YOU MUST HAVE AGE LISTED! Thank you!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six

Red. Red was the only color Satoru saw as he dragged his suitcase. He'd never felt so angry! Hurt! Betrayed! The emotions swirled and festered like an infected wound.

He'd let his walls down with you. A mistake he would never make in his life ever fucking again. It didn't matter how desperate a voice would sound on the phone. And it wouldn't matter if he genuinely enjoyed talking to the client or if they gave him the butterflies.

Gojo Satoru would never allow himself to be put into a situation like this again. One where he got hurt. Where he mourned the loss of a girl he barely even knew. A girl that left a scar on him no one would ever see.

The thoughts continued to swell and build up in his mind as he bought himself a hotel room next to the train station. They built up like a typhoon, threatening to destroy everything in its wake, all the way to his room, where he collapsed on the bed. Satoru didn't like feeling this suffocating pain. He needed to distract himself, to talk to one of the only people he trusted in this world.

He needed Suguru.

With a few taps of his finger over his phone screen, Satoru stared at himself, praying his best friend was still up. Which he was. Satoru sighed in relief as Suguru’s face took up the screen. His best friend was propped up in bed, his face dimly illuminated by the lamp on his nightstand. He took one look at Satoru’s face and cocked an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

Satoru chuckled, covering his eyes with his elbow. “Is it that obvious?”

“You just called me three hours ago. You said, and I quote, ‘You’re going to love her. She's got the prettiest eyes. Her skin is fucking flawless. I wanna put her mouth on my mouth.’ end quote.”

“I didn't say that last part!”

“You didn't have to say it, Satoru.” Satoru didn't argue with that. “So, are you going to tell me what happened??”

“I—” he groaned, sitting up, “we, well, ya’ know—”

“Fucked?”

Satoru glared at his only best friend. “No!” Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Well, we didn't go all the way.” God, he wished it had, but he was glad it hadn't.

“Okay? So, did she give you major blue balls? This isn't helping me decipher what happened.”

Although the pain was fresh and stung, Satoru rehashed the night's events. The kiss at the bar, you calling him after Toji showed up, and everything after. From your sudden confidence to the gentle caresses to the intense intimacy between you both. It had been so fierce, raw, and real. Satoru had never experienced kisses and caresses like yours; hell, your touch still lingered as he lay in bed ranting.

All of the chemistry he felt didn’t change the fact that he’d been hurt. He thought you were genuine, that you didn’t want to sleep with him just because of his good looks. Maybe, just maybe, you wanted to sleep with him because you felt the same spark that he did. A spark that would lead to sex, but from there, it might grow into something more! A relationship, the possibility of a future together.

But those stacks of cash changed it all.

The possibilities Satoru had been fantasizing about, wanting, came crashing around him when he counted the bills. You had been so unfazed by it. All you did was check your wallet before pulling out the bag with condoms in it. Your pitiful face when he asked about the money flashed in his mind. You had been incapable of telling him why you had all that money; you just stared blankly at it like you were trying to put two and two together.

Playing around like you didn’t know what was happening had set him off. Why would you have that much money in your purse? Conveniently, it was also the exact amount that he charged for sexual services. Services that Satoru didn’t typically provide. He had been honest with you. He didn’t like having sex with people that he didn’t know, so for him to find all that money, it set him off.

Satoru finished up his story, rubbing his hands through white hair. “So I left, and I missed the last train out. Could you pick me up in the morning? I want to get home as fast as I can.” His blue eyes darted towards his phone screen, where Geto was staring at him like he was an idiot. “What?” Satoru asked, looking at himself on the smaller screen. “Do I have something on my face?” His best friend let out the most extended, most profound sigh in the entire world.

“Are you a fucking idiot?”

“Huh?!”

“I said, are you a fucking idiot?”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed, eyebrows pinching together. “Why the fuck are you asking if I’m an idiot? Are your gauges too big? Did everything I say go through them and not into your ears?” He watched as Suguru rolled his eyes. “I just told you I found all that money in their bag! Right before we did the nasty! I confronted her, she couldn’t explain. That, to me, screams that she’s guilty, Suguru.” He gestured with his hand in front of him as if motioning toward the evidence before his face.

“Did you ever stop and think maybe she couldn’t answer because she was just as confused as you?”

“What?”

Suguru shifted, dark hair falling over his shoulders as he sat up. “Satoru,” he purred, “think about it. She left her bag where anyone could touch it while you two were—preoccupied.” Well, when he put it like that. “And how would you react if you found that much money in your wallet that wasn’t there before?” Satoru remained silent, not saying a word. “You claim she looked guilty because she couldn’t explain it. But what if she truly couldn’t? And you left before even giving her a chance to explain herself.” Yeah, he did; he left you crying at the inn.

Thinking back to how you ran after him, grabbing his arm, stumbling over your feet, would someone guilty do that? Try to explain themselves, beg for him to stop and listen.

“I-I don’t know how it got there, Satoru! Please! Please believe me!”

Your tear-filled eyes, the shuddering tremble in your voice, and the blatant way he’d coldly dismissed your attempts to clear things up had his stomach twisting. The fury that had been fuming deep at his core had blinded him. He didn’t even give you a chance to talk, to explain what had happened.

“I’m so fucking stupid.” He mumbled out, putting his phone down to scrub at his face. “Why didn’t I stop and listen?!”

“Because you like her.” There was something in the tone of Suguru’s voice that had Satoru glancing at his phone. “You genuinely like her Satoru, so when you assumed she just wanted to fuck you just as an escort and not as a potential lover, that broke your heart.” Satoru opened his mouth to argue. “Don’t try to deny it; you just bitched at me for like an hour like some school girl who just got dumped.”

”Fuck you,” Suguru chuckled, knowing Satoru’s words held no heat in them. “So what do I do now? Run back over there, tell her how sorry I am?”

”Well, honestly, if I were in her position, I would slam the door in your face. The whole ‘consider the orgasm, payment for the cancellation of my services’ was fucking harsh.”

”Yeah, not my finest moment.”

“Well, use that Gojo Sator charm and make it up to her.”

After hanging up the phone with Suguru, Satoru plopped down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. That red-hot rage had faded into regret. He should have listened to you; he should have stopped the second you grabbed his arm. Instead, he pulled away, refusing to listen to what you had to say.

He made you cry like you did when you told him about Toji.

Seeing you that upset had made him sick to his stomach. He thought, what kind of dick makes a girl cry like this? He hated people like that, people that were so cruel. Now the tables had turned, and he was the dick.

God, what are you doing right now? Were you still crying? Maybe you were pacing the room, thinking about what you would do since your wedding date just up and left you. How were you going to explain this to your friends and family? Or were you dreading the pathetic, woeful faces that would be on the faces of your friends and family when you told them he left? You had hired him to make this wedding easier to attend, but he had turned it into an even worse experience for you.

Gojo had been right about you crying. You were curled into a ball on the futon that still smelt like him. Your chest heaved as you screamed into his pillow, gripping it as you let the waves of anguish wash over you, pulling you deeper and deeper into the suffocating waters of despair.

You cried yourself to sleep, waking up with a numbness in your chest as the flashbacks from the night before plagued you. It had been perfect, too perfect. The butterflies, Satoru’s kisses, the pleasure. You felt so good about him, about the two of you, about yourself, to have it come crashing down around you in seconds.

It hurt being yelled at and screamed at and blamed for something you hadn’t done. The rage and betrayal in Satoru’s eyes burned into your mind, and his words sliced so deep into your skin that they touched your soul. You hadn’t been hurt like that since Toji broke up with you, and that had nearly destroyed you. You ran away from the pain, refused to talk to anyone, and stayed in bed for days. Your heart had been broken into a million different pieces, and it took you so long to put it back together. To allow yourself to live your life.

Luckily, your heart was stronger now, scarred and rough. The pain that it had undergone a year before had made it more durable and harder to break. This heartache was not going to destroy you this time around.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you exhaled heavily through your nose before pushing your hair out of your face. You could do this. You didn't need a wedding date to survive the next two days. You were fully capable of getting through this by yourself.

You put on a smile and got ready for your day. Everything hurt, but you would be able to get through it like you had done before. This heartache would not hold you down. You headed into the kitchen, greeting your family as they cleaned dishes from the morning breakfasts that had already been delivered to guests and discussed preparations for the next two nights.

Their voices were white noise as you pulled a bowl of peaches from the fridge. They asked if you were okay if Satoru felt okay since he wasn’t with you. Hearing them say his name stung, but it didn’t stop you from moving, washing peaches, and peeling them as you preheated the oven.

”He left.” You told the truth, not the whole truth, but you weren’t ashamed to tell them he left you. Their reactions varied from confusion and anger to stunned silence and disbelief. “I’ll be okay.” You assured all of them, urging them to go about preparations for the wedding. Right now, all you wanted to do was be alone, to bake the anger and sorrow out of your system.

They granted your wish, leaving you alone in the kitchen. The atmosphere was drastically different from the night before. You giggled and smiled as Satoru stood by your side; those beautiful, captivating blue eyes wandered, watching your hands move. The heat from his gaze alone had the kitchen so hot you thought every oven had been on when they hadn’t. Now, the only warmth that flooded the space was from the oven and stove as you cooked down the peaches in syrup.

You moved unthinkingly, cooking butter into three trays, before setting the stew pot of peaches off to the side. Mind and body numb as you focused on mixing your flour, sugar, and milk in a bowl, you never heard the footsteps behind you. It wasn’t until the timer on your phone went off that you turned, running into a firm chest. You knew the smell of fresh linen masked with musk, and it made you want to throw up.

Satoru rubbed at his neck, glancing down at you. Dark circles were under his eyes as he placed his sunglasses on his head. Even when he looked exhausted, he was still handsome, which irked you.

“Hey.” He spoke softly, like his voice alone would shatter you as if you were a porcelain doll. You said nothing, stepping to the side to turn your timer off. “Can we talk?”

You ignored him, taking out the trays of melted butter from the oven. You put cinnamon, baking powder, and salt into your batter before whisking it bitterly. Satoru moved, gently grabbing your elbow and stopping you from running further away.

“Please.”

“No.” You snapped, pulling away so you could continue to construct the dessert for the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Sweetie, please.”

“Oh my god!” You slammed the bowl down, turning to shove at Satoru's chest. “You fucking left! You left when I wanted to talk last night!”

“I know I did.”

His eyes never left your face, and his undivided attention only pissed you off more. “Well, guess what? I don’t want to fucking talk now.” Despite your dismissal, Satoru didn’t move. He stayed near your side, watching as your hands moved, putting the peaches on top of the batter. “Don’t you have a train to catch?”

“No, I have a wedding to attend—“

“The fuck you do.”

“You paid for me—“

“And you canceled your services!” Satoru grimaced as you all but threw the trays into the oven. “You paid me with an orgasm, remember?! Because I remember!”

He followed you as you headed to the sink with your dirty dishes. His hand gently grabs your elbow. “Look! Please listen to me.” He took the dishes from your hands, placing them in the sink. “I was an asshole last night, whatever this,” his finger gestures between your bodies, “it’s new and raw and real.” You barked out a laugh. “Stop, please. I messed up; I know I did. And I’m sorry for flipping out on you. But this is worth fighting over; I want to be with you.” His words were regretful; his face matched the panicked pain behind his voice.

That didn’t change the fact he’d hurt you. “Gojo.” The use of his last name had his heart crushed. “You did mess up, you hurt me.” You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Let’s be honest, this.” You mimicked his finger, gesturing between you. “This is never going to work, not after last night. I had my heart broken once after I was intimate with someone, and you knew that. You knew I didn’t want to have sex. I specified that several times. I put myself out there, out of my comfort zone, because I genuinely liked you. Now, well, let’s be honest: my heart has been broken twice now. So I’m going to ask you to leave.” Satoru swallowed hard, removing his glasses and putting them on the counter.

“Please don’t say that, please.”

“Go.” You pointed to the door, fighting back tears. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

He grips the counter before lifting his head to meet your teary eyes. “Okay,” he reached out, gently brushing away a stray tear, “I’m sorry for breaking your heart.” His gesture had your breath hitching as he turned, heading out of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets.

The moment you were sure he was far enough that he couldn’t hear you, a shaky cry left your lips. You stumbled, your legs no longer wanting to hold you up. How dare he come back and apologize after breaking your heart the night before. If he didn’t apologize, things would have been so much easier for you. You could have grown to hate him, but seeing how upset he looked hearing the pleading tone in his voice, made you want to throw your resolve away to chase after him.

But would a relationship with him work?

He was an escort. People paid him to go out with him. Could you date him, knowing that’s what he did for a living? To be the woman waiting at home for him to come back?

He said he wanted to fight for this, for you and whatever this strange relationship was turning into. He wanted to be with you. So, did that mean he would give up on being an escort? Would he be okay with that? The questions flowed like a steady river through your mind as you sat on the kitchen floor. These were questions you would never get the answers to, all because you sent him away.

Footsteps entered the kitchen as you stared at the floor. You perked up, clenching your fists tight, digging your nails into the palms of your hands. Did Satoru come back? You tilted your head up, tears streaming down your cheeks, to find Toji smirking down at you. The last person on the planet you wanted to see.

”Why are you on the floor?”

”Why won’t you leave me alone?” You snapped as you pushed yourself off the floor.

Toji hummed, leaning over the counter as you went to the sink to clean your dishes. “Because I want to talk to you. But you keep avoiding me.” You threw the whisk into the sink, whirling around.

“You wanna talk? Fine, let’s fucking talk, Toji!” You shrugged a shoulder. “Not that there’s much to talk about, seeing that you’re the one that broke up with me. And last night, you made it painfully obvious that you didn’t want to be with me. So please tell me! What. The. Fuck. Is. There. To. Discuss?!” You screamed, putting both hands on your hips, glaring daggers at the first man who broke your heart.

“Fuck.” He laughed, his eyes trailing up and down your body. “You got feisty in the year that you’ve been away.” When he saw how you glared at him, he held up a hand. “Right, right, fine, I’ll talk.” He straightened his back. “But first, did you enjoy yourself last night?”

His words had your heart dropping into your stomach. “I-I’m sorry?” You asked, hoping that you heard him wrong.

”I asked how your night was. Finally, get dicked down?”

”What?”

”Oh, right, you didn’t know.” He strode forward, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefingers, forcing you to look into his dark eyes. “After you left, I got a job. I’m a PI, the best in the business.” You felt goosebumps rise against your skin as he leaned beside your ear. “I did a little research into this Gojo Satoru, heir to the Gojo business. It took a little digging, but I eventually found his profile in Escorts4you.com.”

You were frozen in shock and fear. “You knew?” Of course, he knew; he knew something was up the first night.

“To think my ex-fiancée hired a fucking escort to be her date to a wedding. I had a good laugh over it. But when I saw the prices, oof, I know you,” toji squeezed your cheeks, “a pathetic baker from a cafe could never, ever afford to get fucked by a pretty boy like him.”

“W-Wait—“your head spun, “wait, it was you; you put the money in my bag?”

“Ding-ding-ding,” He reached into his pocket, holding another wad of cash towards you. “¥480,000, the money you used to cover rent when I was out of a job.” He put the money on the counter behind you. “I’ve been wanting to pay you back. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You put—you put the money—“

“But seeing that you were able to buy a high-end escort for an entire week, I figured that maybe you wanted more. So I figured I’d give you half to get the full escort experience.”

“It was you—-“

Toji smirked, gently patting your cheek. “Yep, I found your bag in the kitchen last night. Put half the money in there.” Your ears started ringing as he pulled back. “So tell me, did he fuck you as good as I did? Did he make you scream and cry like me~?” He pulled back, smirking down at you. “Or have I ruined all other men for you?”

Ruined? The only thing he ruined was what you and Satoru had. He fucked this up! It was all because of him!

“You son of a bitch!” You screamed, slapping him across the face. Toji stumbled back, grunting as he cupped his cheek in shock. “Do you know what you did!?” You slapped him again, harder.

“Ow, what?!”

“You ruined everything!” He took several steps back as you grabbed the plastic flour container, throwing it at him, which he dodged. “Yes! I hired Satoru! But I wasn't going to sleep with him!” You tossed a spatula at him, trying to close the distance so you could hit him some more. “But what was supposed to be a job turned into something more! I liked him! I liked him, you asshole!”

Toji dodged a cookie tray, “Well, tell him that!” You rushed forward, slamming your fists against his chest.

“He found the money! And he assumed I was going to pay him to sleep with me!”

“Stop it!” He snarled, grabbing your wrists, forcing you to cease your assault. “Look, I didn’t know you legitimately liked the guy!”

You snapped, yanking your wrists free before kneeing him in the crotch. Toji gasped out, hands reaching down, cupping himself as he stumbled. Vision blurring with tears, you weakly slapped at his shoulders.

“You’re always ruining everything! You broke my heart! I didn’t get to pastry school, and I lost a nice guy because of you!” A gut-wrenching sob made its way through you. “Did you stop to think that maybe I was happy?!”

Your heart was pounding, thundering in your ears as you cried, and cried, and you kept crying as Toji straightened. “Look, I didn’t know it was serious. But if you keep hitting me, we’re going to have a major fuckin’ problem.”

He hissed his vague threat through his teeth. Hearing that only pissed you off more. So you did what anyone else would to the man who broke your heart and kept butting in your life. You pulled your hand back and slapped him as hard as you could. He winced, bangs shielding his eyes as he growled.

When he snapped in your direction, he received another slap. It was when you went in for a third slap that Toji’s hand flew up, grabbing your wrist and squeezing it. He crowded you against the wall, scowling down at your smaller form.

“I told you to stop fucking hitting me!”

“I hate you! Let me go!”

“Are ya’ going to stop hitting me?!”

“No!”

“Then tough shit!”

You kicked at his shins, but he easily avoided you. You were going to kick his ass, beat him into a bloody pulp—once you freed yourself. But all the fight vanished as you saw two ivory fingers tap Toji on the shoulder. He turned around, only to be knocked back by a powerful punch. You stared at Toji, who spit out blood, his gaze locked on the man standing at six-three. Satoru shook his hand, fingers brushing over his knuckles as he glared.

His lip twitched, revealing sharp canines as he stepped forward. “Oh, you think that hurt? Wait until I get a good hit in.” He clenched his fists into tight balls, continuing to close the distance between them.

“Oh, you don’t wanna fuck with me. I’ll fuck up your face so bad you’ll never get a ‘client’ again.”

“Why you—”

“Wait!” You yelled out, jumping between the two men and holding your arms out. “Stop! Stop it!”

Satoru looked down at you as if you’d lost your mind, his momentum stopping. Toji kept moving until your fingers grazed his chest. With a deep sigh, you looked up at Satoru, giving him a gentle smile, one that had his cheeks flushing.

“I got this.” the softness of your voice was the only convincing he needed. With a curt nod, he crossed his arms over his chest as you turned to look into Toji’s eyes. “You have fucked with my life for the last time.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep!” You grinned wide and warmly before punching him directly in the nose. “Try that shit again! I dare you! I fuckin’ dare you!!”

“Oooh!” Just as you went in for another punch, you were picked up, and Satoru carried you out of the kitchen. “Easy there, I don’t want you getting arrested.”

You flailed in his arms, “I’m serious, Fushiguro!” Your ex groaned, cupping his hands over his bleeding nose as you jammed your finger at him. “That was the last time you’ll ever interfere with my life!” You glanced over your shoulder, watching Satoru grab his forgotten sunglasses off the counter before heading down the hall.

“Oh!” You heard your mother squeak out as Satoru passed them. “What’s going on? I thought you said Satoru left!”

Satoru grinned, turning to face her as he passed. “Me leave her?” He shifts, throwing you over his shoulder. “I’m not making that mistake again.” You squeak as he bounds down the hall.

“W-Wait, the cobblers! Mom, take them out of the oven!”

The halls were a blur as Satoru carried you to the room you both had shared. Only once inside, he gently places you down, taking several steps back, giving you space. You remained silent, nursing the hand you had punched Toji with.

“Do you want some ice?” Satoru said softly, eyes following you as you sat down on the futon, thumb rubbing over your red knuckles.

“No.”

You could hear him wince at your stiff tone. “Are you sure?” He slowly approached you, not moving too fast, as if you would bolt if he did. “It could make baking hard if you don’t take care of it.” Your heart slowly crawled up your throat as he sat before you, crossing his legs.

“You know what I want?” Satoru inhaled slowly, holding it for the briefest of moments before exhaling.

“No, what is it you want?”

You slowly lifted your head, eyes locked on his. He was stiff, pulse visible in his throat as he waited for you. Seeing him like this, like a child waiting to be reprimanded, had you swallowing hard as you opened your mouth, the words leaving Satoru’s eyes wide as he rocked back at your request.

“You want what?”

Tag List/ (AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

@arminloverlol @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira @faeryminnyx @tqd4455 @harmonyflora @volkins181-blog @noukstmblr @lovley212 @stinkinstuffie @desihopelessromantic @witchbybirth @sonicsolos @lilbiguy @supsiii @rentheannihilator @bloopsstuff @pepepepepopopopo @pandoness @sw33cadav3r @rixo-19 19 @meguvmii @sxnkuna @mmeerraa @lemonintrovert01 1 @bunny-lily @kibananya @kamastar39 @rjreins @lzaj19 @tiredflame132 @manyno @oliiper @rengokushair @simp-plague @matchalatte06 @haesify y @majanggeum

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pretty-little-mind33 · 10 months

Text

Starlight

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summary: You've always felt inadequate compared to Belly, but it's possible you never had a reason to.

Genre: Fluff, kinda angst? hurt and comfort <3

Warnings: harassment, underage drinking, swearing

You'd always been second to Belly Conklin. Although it had been the five of you since you could remember, for some reason it seemed like in the end only four mattered: Belly, Steven, Jeremiah, and Conrad. You were always in the shadows, and now that Isabel had returned to Cousins as beautiful as ever, you wanted to disappear.

It was now apparent to everyone around that Isabel Conklin was the Sun. And you? You weren't even the Moon. You were dust at most, and who would choose dust over the Sun?

"You having fun lil' sis?" Jeremiah fisher asks, leaning against the lonesome wall you claimed as yours. You look at him and scrunch your nose in disapproval. Parties weren't your thing. You only came because Belly had convinced you. Jeremiah grins and points behind him, "Well, that cute boy hasn't stopped looking at you since we arrived, if that makes things a little better." Jeremiah winks and your eyes round. Reluctantly, you glance behind him and see a handsome boy with blond curls smiling at you.

You panic. No boy had ever looked at you like he was and you had never wanted any boys to look at you in that way before—not unless their name was Conrad Fisher.

However Conrad is Belly's now, it's obvious, and you aren't even competition. So, you smile at the boy. You learn his name is Alex and he hands you a drink the moment you walk over to him (upon Jeremiah's insistence). Alex seems genuinely interested in your conversations so when he asks you to dance with him, you don't refuse.

His hand on your hip is foreign and it makes you nervous. But, because the small amount of liquor in your system drowns out any anxieties you have and you lean into him and let him move your hips into his. As soon as Alex's lips skim your neck however, someone's hand is gripping your arm and pulling you away. You lose your balance and bump into the person's chest.

"What the fuck." Conrad hisses. It takes you a moment to understand it isn't you he's addressing, "She's sixteen, you creep."

"Conrad!" You shout, hoping his hand would loosen around your arm. It didn't and it isn't until you push him that he turns to you. His cheeks have blushed pink and the look in his eyes makes you pause. Conrad had never looked at you like that before.

"Did he hurt you?"

You blink at him, head shaking, "Excuse me?"

"Don't touch or even speak to her again." Conard turns around to threaten Alex and your eyes widen, "Now leave." To your surprise, and disappointment, Alex reluctantly listens to him.

"What? No! What the fuck, Conrad?" You curse, pulling your arm from his hand. You stumble but keep your gaze on his. Conard frowns and his hand holds your waist instead,

"You're drunk." He says and you narrow your eyes at him.

"I had one drink!"

"You're a lightweight then." Conrad deadpans and holds out his hand to you, "I'm calling your mom, Y/n. Give me your phone."

You shake your head, "Stop it, Conrad. You're embarrassing me." You murmur and look down, tears pricking your eyelids. Conrad has always seen you as a kid. He has never seen you as an equal, or as a girl he could potentially love, and at this point you don't know which hurts more.

His expression softens seeing your teary eyes. When you look up at him, he looks guilty. You hug your arms around yourself and muster up the courage to ask, "Why did you do that?" You pause, "Alex liked me, he liked me! For once in my life a boy likes me and not Belly and you had to ruin it for me. Why!?"

You look him dead in the eyes when you say, "I hate you Conrad, and I hate that I love you even more." And you mean every single word. All you want to do now is to run and hide, but all you can do is stand there, frozen in time, as you aggressively rub your cheeks with your palm.

Conrad doesn't know how to answer you. His entire body burns to hug you, kiss you, do anything to make you smile again. Smile like you had been when he saw you dancing with that boy. Honestly, he hates himself for being jealous — because yes he was jealous. He has no claim to you whatsoever but simply seeing another boy's hands on your skin made him see red.

Conrad knows your words have been spoken only because of the alcohol you drank. He knows you don't hate him, and he knows you don't love him. Only, some part of him isn't so sure you don't love him. Part of him is hoping you do love him because he loves you too.

But he can't do anything about that now, not when you seem drunk.

"Is she crying? Y/n, are you okay?" Belly suddenly comes rushing up to you both, Cam Cameron abandoned behind her. She puts a delicate hand on your shoulder and you turn around. Instantly, you bury your head into her shoulder and start sobbing. Belly wraps her arms around you as she mouths, "What did you do" to Conrad.

You don’t think he answers her, because she takes your waist and pulls you away from him and into the nearest bathroom. You crumble to the ground and hug your knees, muttering something. Belly slowly shuts the door and kneels next to you, "How much have you had to drink?"

"Apparently, I'm drunk." You sniffs, rubbing your hand under your nose. You look at her with tears in your eyes. "You're so pretty, Belly."

Belly looks surprised, her eyes widening, and she puts her hand over yours, "You're pretty, Y/n." she says, trying to reassure you.

"Not like you are, Bells," You exclaim, "No one has ever looked at me like Cam looks at you. Or Jere. Or even Conrad! And I want them—him—to look at me like that. I don't want him to look at me like I'm a kid he has to keep in check." You choke out another whimper and bury your head in your arms, hands clutching at your hair.

"You're in love with Conrad." Belly suddenly states, her hand disappearing from yours.

Your eyes widen and you look up, quickly shaking your head, 'What? No." You could see Belly's cheeks turn pinker. You'd known about Belly's massive crush on Conrad Fisher since forever and you had never intended to stand in their way. You never even intended to tell Conrad, or anyone for that matter, that you love him.

"It doesn't matter, trust me. Conrad loves you, Belly." You assure her but she doesn't look in any way convinced.

"I don't love him and he doesn't love me." Belly comments determinedly, standing up, "And I'm going to show you why."

You don't understand what she means until a few minutes after she left, the bathroom door opens again. Conrad runs in like he's seen a ghost. In a blur, his hands cup around your cheeks and he's moving your head around, "How did that bastard touch you? Y/n tell me now or I swear–" Your eyes must have been wide open because Conrad squints at you, confused.

"Connie," You say and hearing his nickname, Conrad's body relaxes, "Alex didn't hurt me."

"Belly mentioned you had a fucking bruise, Y/n/n." Conrad continues to roam his hands around your skin as gently as he can. You look at his face. His beautiful face and you notice how different the small freckles he gets because of the sun look in the darkness of this small bathroom. Conrad Fisher has always been so beautiful. If Belly is the Sun, then you're sure he's the Moon and that realization only breaks your heart more.

Conrad's thumb pads under your eye, "Don't cry." He says.

You look up at him and he can't help but think how beautiful you are. Conrad wishes he could give you his eyes, even only from a day, so that you could see yourself just as he sees you.

"I'm not drunk. I promise." You whisper and he cracks a smile. He nods, "I-Connie, if I tell you this can you promise it won't change a thing?"

"Sure." He answers and sits down in front of you, his hands draped across your knees.

"I meant what I said. I hate you," Conrad's face falls, "But I hate you because you won't ever love me the way I love you. I hate you because every time I look at you I want to be someone else, someone that would be worthy of your love. Someone prettier—"

"Y/n," Conrad interrupts you with his hand over your mouth, "Don't finish that sentence. Please. It breaks my heart that you can't see yourself like I see you." He removes his hand and you stay silent. His fingers run through your hair until he cups your chin, "How can you expect nothing to change now that I know you love me?"

You cringe and turn your head, "Because I don't want to lose you."

You hear him laugh and as beautiful as the sound is, it tears your heart into a million little pieces. "You could never lose me." He says and leans back, his arms now crossed over his knees. He's looking into space. You glance at him and he looks like the old Connie. His eyebrows are raised and it looks like he's smirking.

You sniff, "I am losing you."

Conrad tilts his head, "How?"

"Because you love Belly. Because she's the Sun and you're the Moon and I'm, well, I'm fucking dust." You exclaim and Conrad looks at you like you've suddenly grown two heads.

"What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself." You whisper.

Conrad inches towards you, his arms outstretched. You look at him curiously but still, you let him hug you. You're leaning against his chest now and he smells like laundry detergent and sea salt. His large hand rests in your hair and he leans his chin on your head, "I don't love Belly, Y/n. Not in that way. She's like my little sister. She has always been."

"Oh," You say and you think back to Belly's words: Conrad doesn't love me, and I'm going to show you why. You think back to how Conrad looked at you when he was pissed at Alex, or how he almost broke the bathroom door down to make sure you weren't hurt. "Am I like your sister too? Is that why you got so protective?"

You sense his body tense and there is a pause.

"No." Conrad breathes out, "Y/n, you're not like my sister."

You lean away and look at him. Your tone is serious now, "So what am I to you, Conrad?"

His eyes shine blue like the ocean and you almost drown looking at them. He's so close to you now and his cheeks are rosy. You both smell faintly like cranberry liquor and his hand is soft on the exposed skin of your thighs, "You're a Star. My Star."

You feel like you've lost your breath, "I'm your Star?"

Conrad nods, "You see, the Moon is lonely." He explains, expression serious, "He's usually all alone and sometimes it makes him want to cry. But whenever his Star comes out of hiding and shines into the darkness, the Moon is happy again. Unfortunately, his Star doesn't know how brightly she shines though. Most times, the Sun can't even compare because this Star," Conrad pauses, "his Star, isn't blinding. You can look at her shine all night and she'll always be the most beautiful thing. She's kind and brave and the Moon loves her more than anything." You have the sudden urge to sob and Conrad brings his thumb under your eye again, catching some tears, "Shh, it's okay." He says and you don't know how to react. You're suddenly wondering if, because of your crying, you have snot running down your nose.

Conrad Fisher has just declared his love for you and you're thinking about snot. It's all so funny you laugh. Conrad's nose scrunches, "Are you laughing at me?" He asks, mouth ajar.

You shake your head, "No!" You say but you start laughing again, covering your mouth and shrinking into yourself.

"Oh I see, you can make corny metaphors but I can't." Conrad rolls his eyes. Your mouth twists into a smile and you take his cheeks in your hands, pulling him to you until your noses are almost touching. In between your fingers you can see the tips of Conrad's ears turn pink.

"You can make as many metaphors as you want, Con. As long as you mean them."

He smiles, "I have never meant anything more in my life, Y/n/n."

You feel his hand find its way to the back of your head and he pulls you forward, his lips meeting yours. It's like a weight has been lifted from both your chests and you kiss him back instantly. It isn't like you imagined your first kiss with Conrad to go. You certainly weren't sitting on the floor of some random person's bathroom, dried tears on your cheeks.

But, it's still somehow better.

Conrad's hands now find themselves on your hips as he continues to kiss you, lips delicately moving to your neck. The situation is so ironic you chuckle. You move away and Conrad looks confused.

You fake a pout, "I'm sixteen, Connie. Isn't this a little inappropriate."

Conrad begins to panic, "What? I-I mean, I'm barely a year older than you! Are you uncomfortable because," He pauses seeing your expression and he suddenly remembers what he had said to Alex and he blushes, "Okay, that wasn't funny." He whines.

"Kinda was." You boast.

Conrad leans back and tucks some hair behind your ear, "So what do you say we leave this bathroom and go dance." He asks and your heart flutters. You nod. You had never wanted anything more.

* ~ *

Summer ended and came again quickly. It had been a year since Conrad kissed you in that bathroom and a year since he became your boyfriend. Since you didn't live in Cousins, long distance had been complicated. But this was Conrad—when he wanted something he was determined to make it work and luckily for him you had the same amount of determination.

It was Belly's seventeenth birthday, yours having happened a few months prior to the Summer, and Shayla was throwing her a party. Parties usually weren't your thing but having Conrad around made things better.

"Hey lovebirds, this is my make out spot now. Go away." Jeremiah exclaims, leaning on the wall you and Conrad had claimed as your own. He pushes you away from your boyfriend. You laugh as Conrad sends Jeremiah a dirty look.

"You're a freak, Jere. Why can't you find your own?" He asks, his arm remaining around your waist.

"Because this is the only quiet one, and she isn't the only one who wants privacy."

You look at Micheal, Jeremiah's boyfriend, and smile, "Hi, Mike." Micheal awkwardly smiles back.

"Why can't you find a bathroom?" Argues Conrad.

"Occupied." Jeremiah defends.

"Okay children, calm down." You say, taking your boyfriend's hand in yours, "Babe, I’m thirsty, do you think you could grab us drinks while I dance with Belly and Taylor?" Conrad sighs and looks down at you. He squeezes your hand.

"Of course, Starlight." Conrad says sweetly. He then turns around and ignores Jeremiah as he says a quick hello to Micheal and leaves for the kitchen. You smile sheepishly, "Sorry, here!" You move from the wall, "Have fun! I mean–um. Yeah!" You state, waving, and quickly leave to find Belly and Taylor.

"Y/n!" Belly shouts from the crowd and you push your way towards them. Belly hugs you and when she pulls away her cheeks are flushed and you know she's had one too many drinks. But, by the way Taylor is holding her hand you know she's in good hands. Literally.

"Hi, Bells'. Tay." You smile and start to dance with them. Taylor nods at you, gripping Belly's hips and moves them to the music. Just like last year they're wearing flower crowns and they look beautiful. Your mind wanders to Conrad and you remember how he'd offered to buy or make you a flower crown last year since Belly only had two. He'd been so kind. You smile. However, just as quickly as your smile came it disappeared because someone's hands touched your waist. You know it's not Conrad, you know how his hands feel and these aren't his hands.

You turn around only to be met with familiar blond curls, "Alex?"

"Hi, Y/n." Alex smiles, not moving his hands. You return his smile awkwardly. You don't know what to do. His smile makes you want to puke and you don't understand why. You look around for Conrad. "You wanna finish our dance, without interruptions this time?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Alex, I actually have a boyfriend." You mutter and shakily move his hands. Belly has turned around now and when she notices Alex, she drunkenly frowns. In seconds she's taking your hand and pulling you into her and away from the boy.

"Hi," She slurs, "I'm Belly."

Alex sends her a tight-lipped smile, "Hi," You look away but his hand gripping your arm makes you turn to him again, "I-" He starts but he's interrupted by Conrad yanking his arm, causing him to drop his hold on you.

"Don't ever touch her." Conrad snaps.

Alex squints at Conrad, "Not you again." He looks at you, "Does he even know you?"

"I'm her boyfriend, dipshit." Conrad exclaims, his arm going around your shoulder and you unconsciously lean into him.

Alex frowns, "Oh," He moves away, "My bad, man." Your hands clench. Suddenly it matters that you're taken? It hadn't only a minute earlier! When Alex leaves, you turn to Belly and Taylor and they look just as disgusted as you do.

"My bad, man." Taylor mocks, "Asshole." She says and continues to dance.

"Men suck." Belly mutters, taking Taylor's hand and spinning her around. You laugh. You would have agreed, had your boyfriend's hands around your waist not reminded you that no, not all men sucked. But then again, not all men were your boyfriend.

You spin back around and he pulls you into him, "You ok?" He asks, genuinely concerned. You smile and nod, "Good." He says, rubbing his thumb over your hips. His lips twist into a smirk and you tilt your head.

"You look like you enjoyed that." You say.

Conrad raises his brow, "I did not enjoy him touching you when you were obviously uncomfortable, Starlight."

You laugh, "No, I meant telling him that you're my boyfriend."

"I am your boyfriend." Conrad smirks and leans in to kiss your forehead. He looks at you, blue eyes shining, "Is it so bad that I want people, especially idiots like him, to know?"

You pretend to think for a moment, "No," You smile, "I don't think it's bad."

"Good because I want everyone to know." Conrad says as he kisses your lips. You lean up and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"Ew, gross." Belly groans, pulling on your arm, "Connie, leave her alone. It's my birthday and I want to dance with my best friends!" You chuckle as Conrad’s eyebrows scrunch but he doesn't protest, he only points to Belly and says,

"Only because it's your birthday."

Belly drunkenly points her tongue at him and Conrad smirks, amused at how childish she is when she's drunk. You look at them and your own smile curls your lips. A year ago, Conrad smiling at Belly would have made your heart sink and your insecurities spiral. Now, those insecurities are forgein because while Belly might be the Sun and Conrad might be the Moon, you were his Star.

And what is a Moon without Stars?

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher w you #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher smut #conrad fisher fanfic #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty fanfiction

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sanguineterrain · 8 months

Text

sunset anew | dick grayson

Summary: You're a little nervous to become the Mrs. Grayson. Luckily, your husband-to-be knows just what to say to soothe your worries.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: wedding, anxious reader, the batfam actually gets along, fluff!! (dick is my wife.)

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

Contrary to popular belief, Gotham isn't a complete eyesore.

Sure, it's no vacation spot, and it's probably not the ideal place to settle down. But there are beautiful parts within the grunge.

Your wedding planner had shown you multiple locations, from Napa to the Bahamas. Bruce had insisted cost was no problem.

But that wasn't what made you choose Gotham.

Your forearms rest on the polished stone-top railing that surrounds the rooftop of the nicest hotel in the city. Thirty-two floors, all rented out for you.

You look down at the tiny cars and people below. Your heart swoops.

Your heels are in one hand. The sun crests the horizon; soon, yellow will melt into buttery orange and pink. It’s the first sunset you knew. The only sunset you know. And it’s the same one you saw the first time you met your almost-husband.

You'd come up here so you wouldn't miss it. Just this one time.

“Found her!”

You jump as the roof access door opens. Damian and Duke walk out. Duke gives you a warm smile.

"Jesus, you guys," you say, hand on your chest. “Way to scare a girl.”

“Sorry. You look really nice,” Duke says, smoothing his bowtie.

Damian crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed.

“Frightening you is the least of our concerns. We thought you’d run. Which would be understandable, considering the family you’re marrying into, but Father spent a lot renting the hotel. Plus, Grayson would’ve been inconsolable, and extremely annoying.”

“Dude,” Duke says, elbowing Damian. “Chill out. It’s not like she was actually going to leave him at the altar.” He squints at you. “Were you?”

“No! I wasn’t going to leave him at the altar, oh my God.”

Damian nods. “Good." He taps his watch and speaks into it. "Grayson, our work is done. Come to the roof.”

Duke gives you a wave and they wordlessly leave the way they came. You sigh and start to slip your heels back on. There’s some whispering at the bottom of the stairs, and Damian shouts “no!” before it’s silent.

You have one heel on when Dick emerges.

He’s unfairly handsome in his tux, hair somehow both neat and tousled. He also has what looks to be Damian’s tie wrapped around his eyes. You step out of your heel, unsure.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to scare you."

"It’s okay, baby. Why are you blindfolded?"

"Bad luck to see the bride, duh."

You can't help your idiotic grin at that. "I think it'll be fine, Gray. You didn’t have to take his tie.”

"Maybe you haven't met my family; we're not known for our good luck streaks.”

"I'm madly in love with you,” you say, feeling gooey.

Dick beams, and you nearly forget about the sunset altogether.

"I'm madly in love with you too."

You kiss him and he blindly returns it, following your lips even after you step back. You cluck your tongue and nudge him away. He obeys, though not without sliding his hand onto your waist and tugging you away from the roof. You follow because he's such a worrier.

Dick reaches for your hand and squeezes.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. Sorry I disappeared. I didn’t know the calvary would be sent after me.”

“Yeah, uh…” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Again. I got worried.”

The guilt sinks its claws deeper. You frown and touch his cheek.

“I would never leave you at the altar, Dick.”

“I know! I know that. They’re idiots; don’t listen to ‘em, whatever they said."

You cup his face with both hands and kiss him again. He squeezes your wrists and you can feel the relief rolling off him in waves, as much as he tries to hide it.

“Was my absence noticeable?” you ask.

"Just to us. Don’t worry about it. The Wayne family are professional crowd entertainers."

"I take it Bruce is doing card tricks?"

"Yep,” Dick says. “He’s pretty good too. Might retire the suit."

You laugh. "Sorry I'm missing it."

"Trust me, you'll get your fill soon."

“We can go down now,” you offer, even though you’re still waiting for that sunset.

He shakes his head. “There’s no rush.”

You smile and rest your head on Dick's shoulder. He accepts you instantly and wraps his arm around your waist.

"You feel really beautiful," he says.

"Charmer."

"I'm serious!"

"I know. That's why I'm so damn sweet on you, Gray."

"I've got a shot with you, then?" he asks.

"Oh, big time."

He nuzzles your neck. You breathe in his scent: wine from earlier, detergent, the hair gel he uses to effortlessly capture the bed head look.

"We didn't have to do this today, you know,” he says, voice vibrating through you.

You pick your head up in alarm.

"What're you talking about?"

"If-if you're getting cold feet, I mean," he adds. "Second thoughts. We can always reschedule."

"Dick, no, I'm not getting second thoughts. I want to marry you today. I will marry you, okay? We've been together for almost four years."

"So? You know how long Batman and Catwoman have been skirting around each other? We've all got a wager going. Including Alfred!"

You snort. "Okay, well, excuse me if I don't want your family to bet on how long it's going to take us to marry."

"Afraid that ship's sailed."

"Of course it has."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. His arms drape over your hips. You trace the shape of his lips with your index, up his Cupid's bow and up the tip of his nose. Dick has such a lovely nose. You've always thought so.

“So who bet that I’d actually made a run for it?”

“That feels like a trick question,” he says.

“Jason?"

“Jason adores you, actually. He didn’t doubt your loyalty once.”

“Damian had his doubts."

“Damian's thirteen, he doesn’t know shit.”

You snort and kiss his cheek. “Well, I forgive him. He was protecting you, that’s all.”

"If it helps, everyone else was certain of your loyalty," Dick says, letting you paw at his face. “Myself included.”

"That does help, actually.”

Dick stops your hand in its journey and rests your palm on his cheek.

"What were you thinking about?" he asks quietly.

You stiffen a little. "Nothing. Just needed some air."

"You sure?"

You know what he's doing: feeling your pulse to see if it changes, listening to your breathing, watching if your shoulders tense. He's a detective first, and a damn good one.

You slump in defeat.

"What if I'm not… good at this? At being… us?”

"What?" Dick asks in disbelief. "What are you talking about? Of course you’ll be good at it. The real worry is me, babe. I mean, you're incredible. I'm the one who runs around in spandex at night."

"Gray, I'm serious," you say, resting your head on his heart. "All those people who’ve been watching us, waiting for the future Mrs. Grayson to slip up. I just—I can't help but wonder if it's prophetic. I wonder if maybe you deserve more."

"Hey. Now I can't predict the future. But even if I could, I don't believe there is a timeline out there where I could ever want or need anyone but you. And you're not alone in this, you know? I'm scared too. I'm terrified I'm putting you in danger. Of fucking up completely. But I also know that sometimes… we get good things, you know? It's not all doom and gloom. I mean, you being in my life is proof of that."

God, he always knows how to make your heart ache just right.

"I really want us to work," you whisper, clutching his suit coat. "I just don't wanna let you down, Gray."

"Baby," Dick says, curling around you. "Sweetheart, where did this come from? What makes you think that? You've never let me down, not once. I love you. It's okay if you feel like you don't know what you're doing, 'cause I don't know either."

You reach to untie the tie. Dick lightly grabs your hand, but you continue to tug anyway.

"Wait, babe—"

"Dick, it's okay. I want to see your eyes. Please?"

He lets you pull it off. He squints at the light, adjusting. Then his gaze drops to you and his lips part.

"Wow," Dick says, hands sliding up your arms.

You smile. "Like it? Selina helped me pick the dress, so it's all thanks to her."

"Fuck, baby. I wanna marry you right now. Screw everyone down there. Let's elope."

You laugh, combing back his hair with your fingertips and tucking loose strands behind his ears.

"Gray, you know we can't do that. What about Bruce? He'd be devastated and more than rightfully pissed."

He shrugs. "So what? I'm the favorite, I can get away with it."

"Well, what about Alfred? You'd break his heart."

Dick pauses, mulling that over. You kiss his chin.

"Damn it," he says. "You're right. I couldn't do that to him. He's arguably more excited about our wedding than we are."

"Mmhm. But I appreciate your attempt to be spontaneously romantic," you say, smiling.

Dick tugs you closer still, rubbing your back.

"I would elope," he says. "If you really wanted to. You could convince me to do just about anything. Even if it unleashed Alfie's wrath."

"Don't tell me that," you chide playfully. "You'll give a girl all sorts of notions."

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

Dick starts to kiss up your neck and you happily let him, eyes slipping closed. It's good, until—

THUMP!

You jump. Dick immediately pushes you behind him.

The roof access door swings out so hard it slams against the wall. Jason glares, bowtie already loosened.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're gonna miss your own wedding, dumbass!" He nods at you. "Hey, future sis. Looking good."

"Thanks, Todd."

"Mm. Everything okay?"

You smile. "Everything's wonderful."

"Yeah, I'm okay too, thanks," Dick says, scowling.

"I know you're fine, idiot. Now come put a ring on it before Alfred hunts you down himself."

Jason turns on his heel, shaking his head. "Responsible one, my ass…"

You look at Dick, grinning.

"Seems like we should go do the marriage thing," you say.

"Seems like." He squeezes your hip. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah, Gray. I do. Thanks. I love you."

"Love you too, baby. Let's go marry the hell out of each other."

The sunset has morphed into a violet night. But you don't mind that you missed it; you know there will be countless sunsets to come.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson imagine #batman fanfiction #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing fanfiction

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 14 days

Text

Acts of Love

Summary: The various ways in which you and Astarion show how much you love one another

“Could I kiss you?”

Oh his favourite question that falls from your lips every night before you head to bed and every morning when you first wake up. Each time you speak those words a shiver runs up his spine, the good kind that spurns him onwards, that opens his lips to let his dam of feelings spill forth.

“How could I say no?” He smiles each and every time, genuinely. Your lips taste divine and with each kiss he yearns for more. He yearns to show you how much he loves you, how much he cherishes you, how much he needs you and yet all he knows how to do is offer his body unto you. He doesn’t know how else to show you how much he cares, but he’s tries anyways.

He mends your clothes for you in the dead of night, and when morning comes he pretends like nothing has happened but you notice the stitches anyways. A silent thank you is exchanged, a small grateful smile sent his way when the others aren’t looking and he looks away, hiding his quickly blushing face.

The way the tips of his ears turn red doesn’t escape your notice.

When small gifts suddenly appear just outside your tent, he always feigns ignorance about their origins, but it’s always something you mentioned in passing the previous day to him. One day you decide to return the favour, and now its a daily occurrence, a way to show your love without needing to say anything. He refuses to tell you how he keeps every single trinket you gift to him, no matter how useless he says they are.

They’re pieces of your deep and genuine love for him, how could he not keep them?

As he kisses you over and over again, his fingers start to linger on your face longer and longer. If he could, he would never want to let go of you but alas he cannot have you to all to himself just yet, there are other travelling companions who need you, so every time you take those steps leading up to him, he closes the distance just to have a few more seconds with you. He pulls away from your lips with reluctance each and every time, resisting the urge to press his forehead against yours and simply relishes in the fact that you don’t mind his lingering touch. He would never let you go if he could, and he knows you feel the same way too when you slowly drag yourself away from his touch, the soft smile reserved only for him sent his way.

With each kiss, the kisses grows deeper as he pours more and more of his longing into them, wanting nothing more than you, loving the way your eyes half close when your lips connect, loving the way you melt into him. Your hands always find their way to the small of his back, pressing him flush against your body as his hands roam around, finding their way to your back and entangling in your hair. He loves the way you convey the love you have for him in each moment of the kiss, a warmth blooming in his undead chest each time your hands linger on his face after the kiss. He doesn’t mind how you nuzzle him afterwards, unable to get enough of him and he can never wipe the smirk off his face whenever he catches one of your companions sending him a scowl for taking you away from them.

You are his and he is yours.

He loves the way you cup his face after every night kiss, gazing into his eyes with such love and care that he gets lost in your eyes, drowning in the sea of your love. Only the touch of your thumb brushing over his cold skin pulls him back and he rests his own hands on yours, taking in the sight before him.

He imprints into his mind the way the moonlight shines upon you, basking you in its silvery light whenever you kiss him under the stars that dot the night sky. He doesn’t believe in the gods of Faerun but if someone told him that you were sent by Selune herself, he would believe them from the way the moonlight frames you perfectly each and every time. He can’t bring himself to let this moment go, wishing this moment would last forever but time always marches on, so he lets it go and eagerly awaits the next one, knowing you will come back to him once more when dawn breaks.

And you always do.

His face can’t help but light up whenever you approach him, his tongue full of honeyed words that dissapate into the air when he opens his mouth to greet you.

“Gods, you’re beautiful” is all he can manage, moved by the way you always find him first thing in the morning and last thing in the night. You’re always the last thing on his mind before he trances and the first thing on his mind when he wakes, for you to feel the same way brings him a joy he cannot find the words to describe. His flowery vocabulary always fails him when he opens his mouth to speak to you, only ever able to hold himself together just enough to form some words of greeting and the smile you give him in return only steals his heart over and over again.

“Can we talk about the two of us?”

Your voice is the sweetest melody he’s ever heard, he could listen to you talk all day about anything and everything, never growing tired of hearing words fall from your lips. When you speak up for him, defending him from those who do not understand his boundaries, his undead heart skips a beat. You use more than just your weapons and magic to protect him, your voice weaving power into words that create a shield around him and he wishes he could do the same for you.

“They said ‘no’. You should learn the meaning of the word.”

He can’t help but jump to your defense, snapping at the drow who keeps pushing you despite your protests. The grateful look in your eyes is well worth the outburst and pride swells within him. He can defend you just like how you defend him, he can return the favour and you appreciate it when he does so.

“I love you.”

He loves you so deeply that he fears losing you more than anything in this world, and he’s always afraid that one day you will leave him for someone else, someone better. He knows he will be powerless to do anything to stop you should that day come, he believes deep down that you deserve such a person but you show up at the flap of his tent every morning, a smile on your face that shines brighter than the morning sun. So he tells himself over and over again that you will never leave him, until one day, hopefully, it sinks in and he will be free of that worry forevermore.

“I love you. I love this. And I want it all.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #durgestarion

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elfyelation · 8 months

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𝐢'𝐦 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | oneshot

pairing—astarion x m!tav summary—when tav falls ill, everyone at camp is surprised to find that astarion is intent on staying by his side until he’s better warnings—illness, mention of poison, soft astarion, worried astarion, worried party, hurt/comfort, extensive use of pet names, super soft, extreme fluff word count—754 rating—teen note—this is entirely self-indulgent because i’ve been really ill this past week (thanks covid) and the whole time i was thinking about how astarion would comfort tav if he was hurt/sick so i came up with the idea for this

“How is he?” he asks and for what might be the first time, she can hear sincerity in his voice.

“Better,” the cleric sighed, “He’s getting better but he’ll still need some time to recover. You can sit with him but if I see those fangs of yours anywhere near him—”

Astarion rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "I assure you, Shadowheart, my intentions are far from what you seem to believe. I would never harm Tav. Surely that much has become clear to you by now?"

The sceptical half-elf hummed, “I suppose he will be safe enough for now. Even if your concern for him was a lie I doubt you’d want to risk sucking up any poison that might still be loitering in his veins.”

He knew she had every right to be distrusting of him, especially when it came to Tav’s safety. He only hoped one day they would all finally see just how much Tav really meant to him. That his feelings weren’t a lie. Until then, he’d have to make do with their concern over their friend and his questionable taste in partners.

“A… Astarion?” His weak voice croaked out the moment the vampire spawn ducked inside the tent.

Tav was laying on the blankets, his body completely sweat-ridden as his face contorted with discomfort. He was in still pain, still so vulnerable.

Astarion was by his side in an instant, his cold hands reaching out to gently touch his lover’s forehead. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m here. I’m right here.”

The cool touch of his hand was welcome as it immediately began to cool Tav’s fever. Gale had already expressed his suspicion that it would do as much. There certainly were at least a few perks of being undead.

“Let’s cool you down, shall we?” He wasted no time removing his shirt before crawling down beside his lover. One strong arm gently wrapped around Tav and pulled him closer, hoping that the coldness of his skin would help ease at least some of the pain.

Tav's laboured breaths finally began to slow as he nestled into the embrace, finding solace in the chill of Astarion's body. His fingers wrapped themselves around the cool arm around him, pulling it closer to his chest.

The vampire spawn chuckled against his ear. “Easy, little love, I’m not going anywhere.” His fingers traced delicate patterns on Tav's forehead, willing the fever to subside.

Outside the tent, Shadowheart kept a close eye on the pair and, in doing so, her initial scepticism gradually gave way to a begrudging acceptance of the vampire's genuine concern. She couldn't deny the tenderness she saw in Astarion's eyes as he cared for their companion. It was a side of him she hadn't seen before. A side of him she hadn’t even known was there.

Maybe it wasn’t just about self preservation or sexual desire. Just maybe he truly did care for Tav. She never thought love was something he was capable of but the longer she watched them, the more she realised just how wrong she had been.

Soon enough, his lover was sound asleep in his arms. Sleeping without a sign of pain or discomfort. It was the first time he’d slept properly since his affliction which meant Shadowheart was right, he was getting better.

“You know, you really scared me for a moment there. I… I thought I was going to lose you. I don’t want to go through that again.”

He spoke despite knowing there was no one to hear him. Speaking to a sleeping lover who, as if on instinct, rolled over to snuggle closer into him.

"I'll protect you with everything I have, my love," Astarion murmured, "I promise you that. You mean more to me than I ever thought possible." He knew that Tav couldn't hear him, but the words were as much for himself as they were for his lover.

Astarion had always been a creature of darkness, bound by instinct and desire. Forced to do his cynical master’s bidding. Yet, in Tav's presence, he had found a glimmer of something different, something more profound. It was a love he never thought he deserved, but now that he had it, he would do anything to defend it.

And so, beneath the starlit sky, Astarion held Tav close, vowing silently to cherish every moment they had together, determined to prove that his love was not just words but a promise to protect and endure, no matter the cost.

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restlesswritingss · 1 month

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In which Astarion goes too far

Warnings: fighting and angst

Astarion x reader

Tav hadn't ever had a real relationship. It had made things even more difficult for they and Astarion to form one. But the two of them were working through it, slowly but surely. A big problem was Tav didn't know how to ask for what they want from Astarion, not that he was much better about that. However, Astarion was good at reading them. Like now, when it was written all over their face that they were jealous.

Astarion was going to have fun with this. Halsin was the culprit of it all, the sexy brute. Astarion had been terrified when the druid had propositioned his lover, but the knowledge that Tav wanted him and only him had truly emboldened Astarion. He was back to his annoying and flirty self now that he knew where he and Tav's loyalties lied. None of their other exceptionally horny companions would come in the way of that. That didn't mean Astarion couldn't tease and taunt them with it, like dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. All good honest fun.

Except now his teasing touches and flirty eyes towards Halsin was being seen by Tav. Tav who looked ready to bite off the man's head. If looks could kill as they say.

Astarion leaned in a little too close to hear whatever the Hells Halsin was saying, and Tav's entire demeanor shifted. They looked liked a kicked puppy seconds away from tears. That made Astarion jerk back from Halsin. This wasn't supposed to genuinely upset them. Astarion was just hoping for a little bit of possessiveness and rough making out in their tent.

He left Halsin mid-sentence, who at first felt slighted but understood when he saw Astarion was going to his lover. He wished them the best despite his own desires for them both.

Tav had turned away and was about to isolate themself in their tent when a cold but familiar hand wrapped around their wrist. They sighed, not particularly wanting to see Astarion after seeing that he didn't seem fully satisfied with their relationship status.

The two had only explicitly said that Tav wouldn't sleep with anyone else, they had assumed that extended to Astarion as well but that now seemed foolishly naive.

Astarion felt internal panic as Tav shifted away from him. Had he pushed them too far?

"Darling, I-" he began purposefully putting more honey into his words than normal, but cut himself off when he saw just how truly distressed they were once they faced him fully.

Tav was trying to put on a brave face, but despair was in their eyes.

"I did not mean to hurt you, I was just having fun," Astarion dropped all pretense of performance from his voice. That was getting easier and easier to do with Tav.

Tav shrugged off his almost-apology, not wanting to be a burden.

"You are free to discover your sexuality however you choose, gods know you deserve it. I just wish you would tell me whenever you find comfort in others, I-," Tav hesitated, worried they were asking too much of him.

But Astarion cut them off, "Find comfort in others? You think I genuinely wanted to sleep with Halsin?"

Astarion says that sentence a bit too loud, his offense overriding his desire to keep his relationship more private.

Tav shrugged again and mumbled, "It sure looked like it back there."

At this, Astarion scoffed making Tav's blood boil. He couldn't take their relationship seriously for five minutes. They were just trying to have a real and honest conversation with him and he was mocking them.

Tav yanked their hand out of his wrist, "Fine, do what you want with whoever you do actually want. At least do me the curtesy of telling me before doing it right in front of my face."

Astarion reared back at the venom in their voice. He knew this was his own doing, but the worst part of him wanted to fight back. He'd never been able to fight back before.

So he threw his hands up and yelled, "Well darling, don't be surprised then when I make my way through our plethora of eligible companions. You're not the only one in high demand."

His insecurity about everyone wanting Tav came in at the end and he regretted showing that weakness in the moment.

Tears started to truly fall down Tav's cheeks at his words and he immediately wanted to take everything back. But they didn't give him the chance, they just turned away and retreated to their tent. It is in this moment that Astarion realized everyone was looking at them. None of these assholes had any sense of privacy or minding their own fucking business. With nothing else to do that would save his dignity, he simply sneered at them and stalked off into the woods. He hadn't put his tent up in the assumption he would spend the night in his lover's tent but he'd gone and royally fucked that up.

Astarion was no stranger to screwing up a romantic interaction but this one was the worst. Sure, there was no vampiric master to punish him when he went home empty handed, but he had hurt someone he loved. The first someone he ever truly loved. Hells, he half-heartedly thought, I'd rather take a night of torture than this guilt.

His heart is hurting and this pain isn't something he has ever felt before. He'd gotten attached to certain marks and felt the weight of their deaths on his conscience. But this, this was different. Tav wasn't going to meet a gruesome death, but he'd broken their heart entirely of his own volition. He was no longer a puppet and with this new autonomy he just lashes out at the one person who'd cared for him. He was as bad as Cazador always said he was.

A rustling behind him alerts Astarion that he is no longer alone in the clearing he'd found to sulk in. Of course it is Tav coming to check on him. They were always thinking of him and his wellbeing. And he went and threw that love away.

"Star, please come to bed. It's not safe out here," their voice was soft and pleading.

"You want me to come to your tent after that fight?" He scoffed, self-loathing coating his tongue.

Tav approached him slowly as if he were a wounded animal. Anger reared up in his chest as he felt pitied, but then he saw their eyes. They were just as kind and loving as always. There was hurt, yes, but the love hadn't left. They still cared about him.

"How can you love me?" The words came out coarse and desperate as he bit back a sob.

That made Tav stop, and his body screamed for them to come closer.

They tilted their head and looked him up and down before saying, "I just do."

He laughed, light and fleeting, "You just do? Well, I suppose that is really all that matters then darling. Come here please."

He held out his hand to Tav, which they gladly took and allowed themself to be pulled into his embrace. Astarion melted into the kiss, his arms completely engulfing his love. His love. He ought to tell them he loved them.

"I love you as well. I am sorry for my outburst. The way I spoke to you," he paused, shame overtaking him, "it was deplorable and wrong. I don't want anyone else in my bed but you. Ever."

Tav sighed and released a mountain of tension from their shoulders. They became putty in his arms.

"I know, I'm sorry for being childish and petty rather than just expressing that I want us both to be exclusively each other's," their voice was muffled as they snuggled into his neck.

Astarion sighed back, happily, "I want that too."

#i kind of hate this but for my mental health i need to get through finishing my drafts #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfic

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fandomapocalypse · 2 months

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Love and relationships in Hazbin Hotel

Episode 7 has something interesting and in the song that is called "Out for love" is sung by a character that is referring to a type of love different from a romantic or sexual one, Carmilla is openly talking about familial love. Vaggie of course relates this to her romantic feelings towards Charlie and how she wants to help her. But something else interesting happens in episode 7, Rosie is properly introduced as Alastor's bestie. This leads to showing another type of love: platonic love.

Now to the main point of this post: Alastor. It's canon that he is aroace and as an ace myself (I'm still questioning whether I'm aromantic or demiromantic but this post isn't about me lol) I'm extremely happy to see myself through him. Plus, the fact that the perfect Tumblr sexyman is aroace is genius and hilarious, you can't possibly top this type of humor.

Alastor for me has been a great ace representation and I've seen myself mainly in how he acts around his friends or other people.

When it comes to Niffty it looks more like a relationship between someone with their feral cat or their crazy little sister. But it's still a genuine connection and a fun chaotic one at that, he even lets her touch his hair and climb on him. In regards to Mimzy, he has shown he cares about her and welcomes her with open arms. He openly hugs her, which shocks everyone in the cast. This is extremely important because Alastor usually only starts physical contact to mock others or to pretend physical closeness as a manipulation tactic (like he often does with Charlie). When it comes to people he hates Alastor may touch them but will quickly wipe his hand on his clothes, like what he did with Lucifer. Personally, I don't like personal contact and only accept it if I start it and usually I use it as a way to show affection with close friends. Also, they have known each other since they were alive, so Mimzy probably knows a lot about Alastor that the rest of the cast doesn't. Mimzy also says that they used to dance together. But that doesn't exclude the fact that she uses Alastor's friendship and affection to save her own ass and taking into account how Husk reacted to Mimzy, this isn't the first time she does this. Also, the relationship between the two starts to crumble after what happened in episode 6 and Mimzy seems to be the kind of friend who will pretend that they are still on good terms and still ask Alastor for favors in the future.

Now jumping back to Alastor's true bestie: Rosie. They probably bonded at first over their cannibalistic natures but it's clear that it evolved beyond that. Personally, I don't ship Alastor with anyone, but when it comes to Rosie I headcanon they are in a QPR.

There are various reasons why this relationship is so great and wholesome, the first one being that there is no power imbalance, they are equals. Both are cannibalistic overlords and are on equal footing in terms of power. When Rosie first sees Alastor she is genuinely happy which is something new because most people react badly to him out of fear or hatred.

Alastor respects Rosie, he even compliments her, in her introduction he says she is "the most darling, delightful, and dangerous Overlord of this side of the pentagram". Considering how self-centered and narcissistic he can be, it means a lot. Alastor would rather die again than compliment another Overlord who isn't Zestial, which he respects but out of fear. Alastor respects Rosie as his close friend. When they stand next to each other they give an air of equals, something that never happens thanks to Alastor's ego and sadism towering over everyone else. With Rosie it's different and Rosie can openly tease Alastor with the "Look at you, so polite! Alastor you can learn a thing or two" when comparing him to Charlie when meeting her, or "I'm just kidding, I know you're an ace in the hole" to tease him about his asexuality. This is something that not a lot of people can do because Alastor is obsessed with control and respect. After all, we see how badly he reacted when Husk insulted him.

He also harmonizes with her, he willingly makes a duet with her in "Ready for this". He isn't interrupting her, instead, he agrees with her and they sing together in unison. This is the first time he doesn't openly hijack a song or fight for control over it, like he did with Vox and Lucifer (although this also happened because this is Charlie's song, but who cares the point still stands). Also, this is the first time we see him dance with someone, instead of forcing them to join his musical number (like he does with Charlie on various occasions). Alastor and Rosie are in perfect sync and it's so wholesome and precious to see him being so openly happy with her. Many have pointed out that the only times Alastor is genuinely smiling is when he is with Rosie and it shows by his expression in his eyes.

Finally, Rosie is the only one capable of bringing the most human emotions out of him, the most obvious one being confusion. In the scene of "ace in the hole" Rosie manages to confuse and surprise Alastor for a solid second, which is a huge change of his persona around everyone else of control and manipulation. Also, it's hilarious that Alastor doesn't know what being aroace is, he probably thinks he is above all that.

He is openly relaxed around Rosie and lets her touch him in an affectionate way, something that not even Mimzy can do. It may be because of the height difference but Mimzy only touches Alastor to hug him and to emphasize he is a "heartless son of a bitch" and Alastor clearly gets irritated by her touching him that way and even moves her finger away from him. This never happens with Rosie and he even welcomes her touching him by not having any walls with her. It's Rosie the one starting the physical contact and Alastor doesn't seem to mind and he never tries to use physical contact to take advantage of her like he does with other characters. Rosie is one of the few people who can touch Alastor without losing an arm and instead have a positive reaction out of him.

The most genuine relationship Alastor has is with Rosie, he even has the confidence and comfort to stop his elegant and reserved persona of not swearing. Which he only does when he is truly angry, like what happened with Lucifer. Or when he is threatening someone like he did with Adam. Or when he is shocked when his microphone breaks. He swears to insult Susan, which is someone they both despise equally. Something that you would only do with your closest bestie.

Finally, let's talk about Alastor's breakdown in the last episode. We've already seen that Alastor is capable of having friendships that aren't based on an end goal. Alastor knows this but he rejects it because he is at the hotel originally for selfish goals and doesn't want his emotions to get in the way. He is terrified of ruining his reputation as a sadistic killer and becoming an altruistic who cares about his friends. Alastor wants to stop himself from starting to care about the crew the same way he cares about Rosie, Mimzy, or Nifty to some degree. This is confirmed by his conversation with Niffty, where he admits he has grown accustomed to the main crew and perhaps he is growing feelings of affection towards them in his own way.

In regards to shipping him with Rosie, I see it as a platonic ship or a QPR. Some people have a headcanon that if they had known each other when they were alive they would have married for tax benefits and to avoid the social stigma, which is the only right answer. When they first met in hell they probably had dates in cannibal town where they ate human flesh while gossiping and trash-talked about the other overlords. Which is exactly what an ace person like myself wants from a close friendship.

As an ace, I really like Alastor not because he is the ultimate Tumblr sexyman or see him as hot but because he is an extremely fun character that I can relate to. I'm grateful for the crew and VA that take into account he is aroace and take seriously that aspect of his character. I don't mind that the aroace representation in Hazbn Hotel is a narcissistic psychopath, if you want a more wholesome ace representation you can check Todd in Bojack Horseman or Saiki in The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.

I don't mind people shipping Alastor, after all, it's just people having fun, but you can't ignore that he is aroace and how this affects his relationships. So yeah have fun and respect and aroace community :)

ok thanks for hearing my rant bye

#hazbin hotel #alastor #rosie #hazbin hotel rosie #asexual #aromantic #aroace #aspec #radiorose

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strangersmunsons · 3 months

Text

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 5 Prompt: Love Notes 💌 ~ 2,300 words Eddie writes you an anonymous love note. it doesn't go according to plan.

Dear ____

I hope you’re not too weirded out by this. To be perfectly honest with you, it seemed like a really good idea when I saw this pink paper in the art room and swiped it, but now I’m not so sure…

Ah, fuck it. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? The pen has been put to paper — I might as well nut up and finish the job.

I really like you. I think about you all the time.

You don’t know me, but we had a class together two years ago. And on the first day, when I was still fresh off a jilt by a different girl, you came in and sat down. I didn’t think much of anything at first; you were just another body in the classroom, and I was wallowing in self-pity, nursing my metaphorical wounds. But as the minutes passed, I found myself glancing over at you — at first just once, then again, and then again, and then I was staring, and all I could think was: she’s really beautiful. And then I couldn’t stop looking.

Day after day I’d watch you in class and in the hallways and anywhere else you and I happened to be occupying the same space. I still do. There’s just something about you that keeps drawing me in. You seem so genuinely good and kind, like you would never hurt anybody, not even a guy like me. But I still can’t bring myself to approach you, because I look at you, and then I look at myself, and I feel like I don’t deserve to be loved that way, by someone as perfect as you. I can’t take the leap no matter how badly I want it.

I have dreams about you. I dream about what it would feel like to hold your hand, to put my arms around you, and to feel yours around me. If my subconscious is feeling particularly indulgent, I might get a kiss. But mostly in these dreams we just exist together, which feels like the most unattainable fantasy of them all. They’re the sweetest dreams to have but the worst to wake up from.

I’m not sure why I’m confessing this all to you now. Everyone else is sending each other candy grams and roses; I suppose it means I’m not as immune to this Hallmark-conspired holiday as I thought. If nothing else, I hope this gives you at least an inkling of how wonderful you are, in case you ever had any doubts. You’re a sweet girl. Anybody would be really lucky to be with you. Especially me.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Deliberately omitting his signature, Eddie sets his pen down and stares at the paper in front of him, rereading the fucking novel he just wrote you.

See, now this is far too much.

Cheeks violently red, he slumps over the table in embarrassment. God, he sounds like such a serial killer! He can’t give this to you, no way. Even if it is anonymous.

…can he?

On one hand, you might find it touching. On the other hand, you might find it both disturbing and grossly predative.

If it’s truly any one thing, it’s honest — Eddie has spent the past two and half years being completely and utterly infatuated with you. He’d call it love, if he’d ever said a single word to you. But instead he’s camped out here in the library during his lunch period, spilling his guts out all over this cotton-candy pink paper, with no intention of revealing his identity.

He sighs, and with nimble fingers, folds the paper into a shape that resembles a heart. Tucking the love note into the pocket of his vest, he wrenches himself away from the table and stalks out of the library. His expression is sour; to the outward observer, he looks mightily pissed off, although what he’s really experiencing is a fierce combination of ambivalence and humiliation towards his own actions. You’d never guess that his heart is thumping wildly against his chest as he speeds through the empty hallways, getting closer and closer to your locker, still uncertain of what he’s going to do when he actually gets there.

But he knows that if he’s going to do something, he needs to do it now, because lunch will be over in mere minutes, and then everyone will start pouring out of the cafeteria.

133…134…135…there it is.

Eddie stares at your locker as though in a trance. He fishes the note from his pocket and simply clutches it in his fist, mind racing.

Can I? Should I? If she’s disgusted she won’t know it’s me. No. No. Maybe I shouldn’t. Bad idea. BAD. Or maybe…I should…

“Whatcha got there, freak?”

A beefy arm shoves him violently from behind, knocking him to the ground. His fingers automatically close around the note, instant panic setting all his nerve endings on fire.

No. Oh God, no.

He quickly tries to haul himself back to his feet, but he’s outnumbered. Two jocks pin him to the ground by his arms, thwarting any desperate punches he might have swung. A third yanks the note from his hand, smoothing out the meticulously-folded paper he’d poured his soul onto.

There’s a roaring in his ears, but it’s not enough to completely drown out the bell ringing in the distance. Then the student voices start floating down the hallway, alerting Eddie to the fact that, not only is he about to suffer greatly at the hands of these meatheads, but he’s unfortunately also going to have an audience when it happens.

The third jock holding the note reads it silently, a slow, evil grin splitting across his face. He starts howling with laughter. “Shit, Munson! I mean, I figured you’d be desperate for pussy, but this? This is a whole new level of pathetic.”

“Give it back!” Eddie snarls, desperately trying to free himself.

The third jock doubles over, cackling, then reads aloud in a nasally, mocking voice, “I have dreams about you…”

One of the goons pinning Eddie down snorts, and loosens his grip. “Hold up, I wanna read it —”

Eddie, sensing his chance, breaks out of their grasp, and makes a move to snatch his note back. Before he can, the third jock crumples it into a ball and tosses it over his head to one of his friends; Eddie makes a wild grab for it, and misses.

High school students start to trickle in, drawn to a fight like flies to honey, crowding at the edges of the scene.

The four boys play a game of Eddie-in-the-middle, the onlookers puzzled but intrigued, watching the mysterious paper whiz back and forth through the air. Growing angrier by the second, fed up with the childish antics, Eddie finally stops trying to catch the note. Instead, he cocks his fist back and lets it smash into the third jock’s nose.

There’s a collective “oooh!” from the mass of students. Eddie and the jock scuffle, both now determined to fuck the other one up as badly as possible. One goon steps in to help his friend, while the other scoops the wadded-up paper off the floor, so he can finally skim the content of Eddie’s heart for himself.

And then suddenly, the most devastating thing of all: the asshole is hollering your name over the din.

For the first time ever, Eddie finds himself hoping that the bully he’s fighting actually kills him. Because death would be better than this.

“Where’s she at? She’s gotta hear this — hey, guess what! The freak is in love with you!”

Eddie wheels around in horror. The other goon grabs him from behind, rendering him motionless again, but it barely registers. The crowd has parted like the Red Sea, everyone stepping aside to make a clear path for you to walk through. You approach nervously, looking completely bewildered as to why you’re being summoned. Eddie wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

The goon thrusts the paper out to you. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” he sneers.

“More like a stalker,” the third jock interjects, voice thick from his swollen nose. He steps in front of Eddie and gives him a bloody smile, flexing his hand menacingly. “Hold his face steady for me, would ya?”

“Stop it!” you shriek suddenly, snatching the paper without bothering to look at it. “You’re such assholes!”

“That’s ENOUGH!”

Principal Higgins has finally decided to do his job, it seems. He marches through the crowd — “Get to class, all of you!” — and pulls the two boys apart.

“My office. Now.”

He corrals the four boys down the hallway, towards the office, as the other students scatter about, flushed with excitement. None of them cast a backwards glance at you, head bent, reading the crumpled note with a furrowed brow.

An hour later and Eddie’s finally trudging his way through the parking lot.

He’s been sentenced to three days’ suspension. The guy he clocked made it out with one after-school detention, which he’ll most likely get out of due to basketball obligations, and the other two got off scot-free. Principal Higgins’s reasoning was that Eddie, because he’s the only one who did any ‘real’ damage, should get the worst punishment.

Sure, he threw the hardest punch. But the idea that any of those three are suffering worse than he is right now is downright laughable.

The hot, bitter embarrassment of it all is making his skin itch. There’s a lump in his throat; he can feel the start of angry tears prickling in his eyes. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he starts driving — the last thing he needs right now is an excuse for one of Hawkins’ finest to pull him over. God knows how much they love doing that.

“Eddie!”

He doesn’t turn around, rage and shame making him want to disappear. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, or ever again, probably.

“Eddie! Wait!”

A light hand caresses his back, then curls around his bicep. He whips around, already on the defensive; you flinch backwards at his aggressive stance.

As soon as he sees that it’s you, all the tension in his body dissipates. His eyes widen and his lips part in shock; his skin becomes dead-white, then bright red in the span of about four seconds.

“I’m sorry,” the words tumble out of his mouth. “For the note — for everything. You weren’t supposed to know it was me.” He stares down at his feet, unable to look at you.

“Did you really mean it? All that stuff you said?”

Eddie shifts his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Well…yeah.” He rubs his clammy forehead with his hand in distress, heart rate spiking again. “I’m sorry, you probably think I’m the biggest fucking creep, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to give it to you —”

“I don’t think you’re a creep.”

Eddie falls silent. His eyes finally flit up to meet yours, and he’s surprised to find that you don’t look…angry. Or repulsed, or even annoyed. Your gaze is soft, the corners of your mouth pulled slightly down in a worried frown. You look concerned.

Is that for him?

“You swear you weren’t playing a joke on me?” you ask.

Eddie starts, taken aback. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do something like that to you, ever. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

You nod slowly, seeming to believe him. You swing your backpack off your shoulder so you can unzip the front pocket, and pull the dreaded love note from inside. Eyes roaming the paper once more, a small smile appears on your lips. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” Then your expression turns more serious, and there’s a slight tremble in your voice. “And I’m so sorry that those jerks did that to you. That was terrible. But you don’t have to be embarrassed about me reading it. I love the note. Thank you for writing it.”

He can scarcely believe this conversation is happening. He’s thought about you standing in front of him like this for years — imagined what it would be like to have you look at him and really see him, the way you do right now. Now that he’s living it, it’s almost too much for him to handle.

You hesitate, like you’re unsure of what to say next. “Um, to be honest, I didn’t think you even knew who I was.”

“How could I not?” he says dazedly. The notion that he might not know who you are is absurd to him.

You shyly avert your eyes, like you’re overwhelmed by the praise. Pressing on, you tell him, “You did get one thing wrong, though.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I’m not perfect — certainly not too perfect for you to come and talk to, or — or ask out. I think you’re a good guy.”

Is there air left in his lungs? It doesn’t feel like it. “Oh,” he manages faintly. He’s too scared to say anything else, that a single incorrect word will break this spell.

You give him a gentle smile. “So…are you busy right now?”

Eddie hides his shaking hand behind his back, blushing furiously. “No, I’m not busy right now. Actually, um, I’m not even allowed back here for the next three days, so…yeah, I’m — I’m pretty open.”

You nudge his arm playfully. “Do you wanna go do something?”

Even through his leather jacket the contact makes his skin tingle. “Yes!” he practically shouts, then lowers his volume. “Sorry. I mean, you read my note. So you understand that this is kind of a big deal for me.”

You laugh, and not unkindly.

“Well, let’s get going then. We have a lot of time to make up for.”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #we're an hour late! sorry bout that

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