#the pining is so thick you could cut it with a knife

[cassafrasscr]

Don't mind me, just living in the look on Ashton’s face during the Dorym reunion.

#the pining is so thick you could cut it with a knife #i will go down with this ship #ashrym #orym of the air ashari #ashton greymoore #cr3 #cr3e93 #c3e93 #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #critical role

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can you do a Clark Kent, with a mate? Maybe she gets jealous of Lois but doesn’t know why; an to get over him she tries to go out with another guy but Clark is like no. Your mine.

.⋆｡Office Crushes｡⋆.

Alpha!Clark Kent x omega!plus size reader

Little bit of Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Your best friend has an office crush that seems to be becoming something more, maybe you should get your own office romance but not because you’re jealous- obviously

Warnings: a/b/o, jealousy, mutual pining, idiots in love, little bit of angst, protective!clark, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was quite common for any office to have its workers develop a sort of infatuation with each other. A confined space where you spend upwards of 40 hours a week with the same people, feelings are destined to arise, especially when it’s such a large mixture of alphas, betas and omegas. Hormones tend to go wild.

You were proud that you had never developed an office crush, knowing how disastrous it could be if the relationship ended, but you doubted your best friend could say the same. Clark had a big heart that he always wore on his sleeve and tended to attract a lot of romantic interest from practically everyone in the office. And apparently, Lois Lane was the lucky one who finally caught his eye.

A strange churning in your stomach began as you looked over the wall of your cubicle and spotted Clark leaning on the small kitchen counter, head thrown back in laughter as Lois chuckled over her now full cup of coffee. You know you should have seen it from a mile away- they were constantly paired up for articles, their chemistry was unmatched and they were by far the most attractive people in the office. You had even teased Clark on occasion for how often he met up with her after hours for some new lead, calling them dates.

Evidently, you were right. And for some reason, it was really bothering you. You felt physical disgust as Clark bent down to whisper something into the smaller omega’s ear and down right nausea as she placed a hand onto his broad chest to steady herself.

You swallowed down the bitter emotions and forced yourself to return to editing your article though a sour taste remained on your tongue. Maybe it was finally time to get your own office crush and the perfect opportunity had just landed in your inbox.

‘Bruce Wayne Interview- I trust you’ll get this done professionally’. You bit your lip at the offer, not only would an interview with Gotham’s golden boy boost your career, but whenever you had encountered the alpha before, he had always asked you out and you had always brushed him off. It was a win-win for you, and maybe it would stop the inexplicable rage you felt when you looked up and saw the goofy grin on Clark’s face as he sat back down at his desk.

Your nose wrinkled as you caught Lois’s scent clinging to him. Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you quickly sent a response back to your boss, accepting the offer. 

You just needed a distraction and then everything would go back to normal.

——————

The tension in the conference room at the top of Wayne Enterprise was so thick you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You cleared your throat and tugged down your pencil skirt, over-aware of just how high it sat on your plump thighs as you reclined in one of the many expensive seats in the room. 

Bruce’s eyes flicked down to where your hands were curled into the material of the skirt and then back to your eyes but not before stopping very briefly at your lips. “Mr Wayne-“ You began again, glancing at your notepad. The small talk had gone well as did the customary chit chat about any new scandal he happened to have instigated and the photos of the both of you for the article.

“Bruce please, I think we’re far beyond that now.” He winked and you swore that his tone held a bit of a teasing purr. Your stomach flipped at the blatant attention from the alpha but it quickly dropped as yet another wave of thick, bitter scent filled the room making you cringe away from the other man standing to the side.

Through a series of several unfortunate events, your usual photographer had fallen ill and his stand-in got hired from right under the company and left so the only person that even had the slightest bit of talent with a camera in the office was forced to come with you today for shots of the billionaire. And in the worst stroke of luck, that person happened to be the very man that ‘inspired’ you to take the job in the first place.

Clark shifted on his feet and you barely repressed an eye roll. He had been very vocal in his disapproval of the whole thing given how often the mogul had put the moves on you but none of his arguments had done anything to deter you, instead they only fuelled the fire.

Bruce’s jaw clenched and you watched in fascination as the muscles beneath his skin moved, although they were not nearly as impressive as Clark’s (you would never admit that out loud). “Well Bruce,” He beamed at you, “Wayne Enterprises has just introduced a new product line that promises to ease the severe heats often experienced by omegas, my question for you is, what about this product is so different from all others on the market that promise the same things yet all others have failed?”

The alpha leaned back in his seat, his muscular thighs spreading slightly, instantly drawing your gaze to the thick bulge that was perfectly hugged by the material of his pants. Your eyes immediately flicked back up to him but given the smirk on his lips, Bruce knew exactly what he was doing. 

“I’m actually quite proud of my team for this, they’ve worked tirelessly on development for years and I believe that it really shows. While other products are usually prescribed by doctors in the forms of ointments and perfumes that mimic the scent of an alpha, which almost never work by the way, we have gone in a totally new direction. Instead, omegas can buy these pouches at any pharmacy and when heated, they give off the scent of a pup.” Bruce gestured to the small bags that were barely the size of your palm that sat on the table next to him. They gave the appearance of a miniature version of a microwavable heat pack but he was right, if you concentrated hard enough, you could smell the mixture of milk and flowers that all babies had.

“It is common knowledge that the presence of pups actually help to lessen the effects of a heat whereas the scent of an alpha is far more complex to manufacture and can actually make an omega’s heat worse if they don’t have any other-“ he paused then, his smirk growing as the room seemed to grow smaller, “-tools to help them through it.” You barely suppressed a squeak and quickly ducked your head as if you were checking your notes once more.

You gathered yourself for a moment then spoke again, missing the way that Clark was glaring at the other alpha over your shoulder. “And how affordable are these products?”

“Wayne Enterprises are donating 2 million to women’s shelters throughout Gotham and we plan to sell them for less than $10.” As if anticipating your next question, Bruce licked his lips and continued. “While it is not feasible to gain a profit from such a low price, I would rather give them away to the people that need it but I do have a board that I have to listen to… sometimes.” He winked at you.

Heat crawled up your neck and settled onto your full cheeks. You squeezed your thighs together though you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were attempting to feign arousal or keep him from looking up your skirt. You laid a hand onto your notebook, shutting off your recorder, as you leaned forwards and offered him your other one. “Thank you for being so open to this interview, you have been a hard man to pin down.”

You could feel the way Clark’s body seized as Bruce’s smirk grew and his eyes twinkled deviously. “If it’s by you miss Y/L/N, I would gladly be pinned down any time.” He shook your hand with a firm grip, letting the tips of his fingers brush against your wrist. “For an interview that is.”

He rose to his feet and politely helped you to yours, steadying you with a hand on your waist as you wobbled on your heels. Once he was sure that you were steady, he ducked down and grabbed one of the unopened boxes of Heat Helpers (quite the cheesy name in your opinion) and gave it to you, along with a small piece of cardstock. “Why don’t you take this, a thank you for a great conversation.”

You flipped over the piece of paper to reveal a phone number scrawled on in pen. You gave him a questioning look to which he chuckled. “My number, if you ever want to have a one-on-one with me, with or without the tape recorder.” 

You swallowed thickly and stuttered out some kind of polite response before Clark ushered you out of the room, muttering under his breath about being in a time crunch. You were barely able to catch one last, “Anytime miss Y/L/N” before the heavy door slammed shut and you were quite literally pushed into the awaiting elevator by your friend.

As soon as the doors were shut, you were on him. “What was that all about?” You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a scrutinising look. Clark refused to make eye contact with you, instead he stared at the elevator doors like he was willing them to open.

“He was flirting with you.” You rolled your eyes and looked away from the tall alpha. “And you let him.”

“So what? He’s attractive and available, as am I. It was only natural.” Clark’s shoulders tensed, his grip on his camera tightening until his knuckles turned white. The confined space was now filled with a bitter scent that made your stomach drop and your omega howl in displeasure.

“Why are you so concerned about this, Clark?”

The elevator doors opened with a ping and he quickly walked out. “It’s nothing.” He said and you knew you weren’t going to get anything else out of him until he decided he was done throwing a tantrum.

——————

“So have you called him?” Lois was leaning against the bar next to you, her drink half empty but the flush on her cheeks told you that it wasn’t the first one of the night. 

“Called who?” She rolled her eyes like it was obvious.

“Bruce Wayne! He obviously wants you too, I saw the photos Clark took. He’s fucking—what’s the word— enamoured!” You scoff behind your tumbler of whiskey which you had been nursing since Perry gave it to you an hour ago. The whole office had gathered at the bar down the road for an end-of-workweek drink and against your better judgement, you had decided to join.

Clark had been convinced into joining a game of pool, leaving you without anyone to talk to but it’s not like he would anyway. For some stupid reason, the alpha had been giving you the silent treatment for days and it was really starting to piss you off. You regarded Lois with a look but she was far too tipsy to get it.

“He was just flirting, he does it with everybody.” You dismissed it but she scoffed.

“Then why did he ask Perry for your personal number?” Your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “Clark didn’t tell you?” Evidently, your wide open mouth and lack of a verbal response told her everything she needed to know. Suddenly, Lois was very sober, a serious expression on her face.

“We were in a meeting with Perry the day after the interview and Wayne just strolled in like he fucking owned the place. He said how great you were and that he was hoping to get your number for a follow-up interview sometime soon. Clark said he would handle it, I assumed that he would have talked to you.” Her gaze travelled over to said man. “Shit I guess he didn’t.”

You slammed back the rest of your drink and without any sort of conscious thought, stormed over to the group of men huddled around the pool table. “Where the fuck do you get off Kent?” You snarled. Immediately all of the men seemed to find their phones incredibly interesting.

“I’m sorry?” He asked in that way too polite way he did that really meant ‘what the fuck is the matter with you’ but you were having none of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me Bruce asked for my number?” 

“There’s a lot of Bruces in the world, you’ll have to be more specific.” He dismissed.

Anger flared in your gut. “You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about.” You snarled, making Clark stand up straight and meet your eyes. In the dim light of the bar, his expression was far darker than you had ever seen before as aggravation rolled off of his powerful body in waves. “You had no right to keep something like that from me!”

“I had every right! He was just going to use you and then never talk to you again! I was protecting you!” 

“I didn’t ask you to!” The bar went completely silent as Clark visibly flinched but you were far too upset to care. “You know what, I’m done.” You raised your hands in surrender as you turned and pushed through the stunned crowd, your anger slowly trickling away into sadness.

The night air was like a punch in the gut but it also eased the tenseness in your shoulders. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself not to cry. It wasn’t like you were in love with Bruce, but even if you were, Clark’s blatant disapproval of him and his distrust in your decisions made you feel incredibly small. And it was breaking your heart.

He was your best friend, he was supposed to be supportive if not a little teasing about your choice in men. He was supposed to console you when things went wrong, not say ‘I told you so’. Why did he get to control your love life while you could only sit back and watch him fall in love with someone else?

Your feet carried you further and further from the bar as the urge to sob was quickly becoming overwhelming. “Y/N!” You turned in time to see Clark throw open the door, the light from inside spilling out onto the street as he endeavoured to chase you.

“Leave me alone!” You cried or at least tried to, but then suddenly, the air was knocked from your lungs and you were looking up at the stars.

The shrill screech of a speeding car came from somewhere on your left as bright headlights illuminated the mass of a man above you before the sound was in the distance and darkness folded over you both. His weight kept you pinned to the slightly damp grass and you had the vague thought that you must be in a park of some kind, even though just a second ago you were standing on a sidewalk- or was it the street?

“Are you okay?” That was Clark’s voice but he had been so far away from you. “Omega?” He sounded distressed and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why.

“Say something!” His huge hands were planted by your head and it was only when one of them cupped your cheek did you find your voice again.

“Clark?” His whole body sagged with relief and he let his forehead rest against yours.

“Thank god. I thought I didn’t get to you in time. The car came out of nowhere and you were so close.” You turned your head away from him, your eyes focusing on the bar… that was across the street… a block away. The glint of something in the grass catches your attention, Clark’s glasses. 

He looked so different without them and all your confused mind could think was just how blue his eyes were when they were unobscured by the glass. 

His button up shirt which was normally so perfectly done up was unbuttoned, exposing the tight material of something navy beneath. “What?” But you couldn’t get out anymore, not when he shifted his weight, exposing even more of what was covered by his shirt and you were stunned into silence.

The red ’S’ practically glowed as realisation dawned into you. His brows scrunched in confusion, following your gaze. “I- I can explain.” Your head spun as he yanked you to your feet, though his hands never left your skin like he needed the reassurance that you were still there.

“I was going to tell you but then I realised how much danger it would put you in and if you were hurt in any way because of me, I couldn’t even stand the thought. And then we had known each other for months and Lois said you would feel betrayed so I kept it a secret-“ You placed an open palm onto his chest, stopping him in his tracks. His mouth snapped shut with a click.

“Is this why you were acting so weird about Bruce? You thought he would hurt me because of you?” Your voice wobbled with emotions as your nails dug into his warm peck. 

Clark’s growl was shocking in its intensity. The vibrations shot up your arm as the ground shook beneath your feet with its power. “No, he would never even dare to fucking touch you. He knows who you belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat, this possessiveness was nothing you had ever seen from the soft-spoken reporter before. You knew that you should find it disgusting considering how he had been treating you but instead your veins filled with warmth.

“And who is it that I belong to? There’s no claiming mark on my neck.” His grip on your hips tightened which should have been a warning but the anger was quickly returning now that the foggy haze of danger had passed. “If I can remember correctly, you’ve been courting Lois, not me.”

“I’ve been asking her for advice on how to ask you out!” He said, exasperated. “I just couldn't find the perfect time to do it.”

“You’re an idiot.” You retorted before grabbing his black curls in a tight grip and yanking his mouth to yours. His body tensed but then quickly melted into you, groaning against your lips. 

Maybe you did have an office crush but it’s not like you’d actually admit it.

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[readychilledwine]

Scream

Summary - You and Rhys have never hid a fetish from each other before, but you had one left the High Lord is more than happy to call you out for

Warnings - NSFW, slight predator/prey play dynamics, mask kink, may feel dubcon-ish to some people, dom/sub dynamics, brief penetration, oral, degradation, pre discussed consent is assumed, spit, overstimulation

A/N - surely if we've all decided Azriel uses his shadows for sexual purposes, Rhysand's tendrils of darkness could be used too, right?

Peep the Halloween 2023 Masterlist here

You sighed heavily. Coming home to a dark, cold, and empty house was never fun and never easy.

Normally loud shouts and laughter filled the halls, echoing every which way, but tonight it was as if all life had stopped existing in the Riverhouse.

You walked inside, body too tired to even bother with faelights and went straight to the room you shared with your mate.

Entering the room sent a chill up and down your spine causing goosebumps to linger.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

You reached inside of you, searching for the mating bond only to find it cold on Rhysand's end. You called for him mentally next. Receiving no whisper of a familiar claw in back.

Then you heard it.

Faint heavy footsteps echoing on the pristine flooring.

You knew the odds of someone being in your home were slim to none. Rhys had so heavily warded and shielded the Riverhouse after you two decided to make it your permanent residence that there were times your own friends had issues entering.

But the chance was still there.

The footsteps were closer now. You could not scent anything to indicate who it may have been, you couldn't place the steps. You couldn't reach your mate.

The footsteps stopped at your open door, and you did the one thing you knew to do in these situations.

You ran. Hard. You first ran to the dark halls, hoping to find somewhere to hide in Rhysands office, but each door you came to was locked shut. You stopped catching your breath and panicking slightly in the hallway. Large calloused hands grabbed your exposed upper arms. They were familiar as they then moved to your throat, not squeezing enough to hurt you, but causing that euphoric lightheadedness to want to set in.

Your body was singing, begging you to realize you were safe, but your mind refused. You slammed your foot down on theirs. You caught the person behind you off guard, body checking them into the door frame before running downstairs and out into Elain's garden. You could hear dark laughter following you, causing your body to plead again for you to relax.

Before you could decide your next move, those strong warm hands grabbed you, pulling you against a solid body and dragging you back inside. You were pushed against a wall, your hands held behind your back as one of theirs began to roam your curves. A familiar heavy scent hit you. The thick scent of mandarin oranges and the sea mixed with musk.

"What's wrong little darling," the deep purr of his voice had you shivering as heat instantly hit your core. "I thought you had always wanted a masked male to fuck you roughly?"

Rhysand took the moment you needed to process the shock of him knowing to knock your legs apart, spreading them wide enough to slot one of his thighs against your core. "Already so wet and I have even done anything."

Cool tendrils of darkness snaked your arms and wrists, pining them so you were defenseless. "Rhys-"

He put a hand over your mouth, "No, princess. Play along." You heard something behind you and froze slightly as the tip of something cold and sharp touched the base of your neck. “Do not move.”

You could not help but to whimper as the knife dragged down your spine, cutting through the expensive outfit you had worn to the meeting with Keir today. He put the knife back, ripping the shredded clothing off and then grabbing you by your hair. Such a pretty little thing, he purred softly into your mind. He kept his hold on your hair tight, forcing you into the family room.

You caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, and instantly felt yourself melting into the role he wanted. He was already shirtless in tight black pants. He was wearing a black mask similar to the one you and the twins worn on missions for Azriel. You did not have much time to process the mask, to process the heat forming between your legs nor the excitement of everything as he quickly bent you over the arm of the couch releasing your hair but keeping your arms trapped.

Rhys normally took his time with you, worshiping you, praising you, prepping you. With speed that had you mind spinning, he had managed to get his pants down far enough to enter you at an almost brutal forcing ripping a scream from your throat. “That’s it princess, scream for me.”

He set a rough pace, pulling out almost completely and slamming back into you so hard and fast that your only response was loud moans and desperate cries. You were dripping for him despite the lack of foreplay, your inner walls already squeezing him. “Fuck, y/n, so fucking tight.” You could only whine in response as he changed the angle of his thrusts and your body, pulling you back up by your hair and forcing your back to arch for him. The new position had him hitting that sacred spot inside of you with every deep hard thrust of his hips. “This is what you want, huh? Some masked male to come into our house and fuck you like a little whore?” His free hand found your front, calloused fingers circling your clit.

You became a mess of pants and cries as he kept pace. "Please," you managed to choke out. "Please."

Rhysand's deep timbering voice came to your ear. "Is the little whore going to cum already?" You nodded the best you could with the rough grip in your hair. "Such an easy thing, aren't you?"

He gently pinched your clit, sending you spiraling over the edge with a loud scream. Your inner walls began milking him, almost begging him to finish inside of you and making him groan loudly. He stopped suddenly, pulling out of you and moving you again.

This you were used to. You were used to Rhys fucking your mouth while you were told not to touch. You knew the motions like the back of your hand, hollowing your cheeks and keeping your tongue in contact but relaxed as he began hitting the back of your throat more and more. You knew to keep your eyes on him, watching as his head tilted back in bliss, watching his throat bob, his breathing increase. You knew to listen, wetness dripping more and more from your core as he mocked you and teased you for gagging, for crying. What you were not used to was tendrils of darkness and their cool touches on your thighs, slithering around you like snakes prepared to strike.

He paused in front of the mirror, forcing you to look at yourself. “Look at my little whore, already such a mess for me.” And there was no fighting that you were. A faint flush was spread from your chest up to your neck and cheeks, your hair had been destroyed by his hands, your makeup was smeared from the tears of pleasure he had already pulled, a faint sheen of arousal shining between your legs.

“On your knees.” You couldn't help but obey instantly, falling to your knees at his command and looking up at him from slightly damp lashes. “Open.” Again you obeyed, opening your mouth and staring up at him as he pushed his cock between your parted lips. “Same rules apply, darling. I do not want to hurt you.”

A loud moan left you when they finally did, swirling your swollen sensitive clit as he finally buried his cock all the way back into your throat and held you there, pinching your nose to cut off what little air flow you had.

He held you there, unable to breathe until you mentally tapped twice for him, and he pulled all the way out, allowing you to take in air long enough for your vision to fully return. He rose a brow at you, a silent question of if you were okay to continue, and you nodded. Rhys removed the mask, smirking down at you, “Good girl,” and began again, fucking your throat but allowing you every single reaction now.

You watched as his eyes rolled back, as his lips parted with each breathy moan. You watched his brow knit together as you worked his length with your tongue more, hollowing your cheeks to swallow around you as you moaned with each flick and lick of his darkness pulling you apart.

Rhysand’s name became a chant on your lips, repeating over and over like he was your prayer, your salvation. “Cum,” he commanded one last time. The coil snapped and you felt your inner walls begin clenching over and over on his fingers. He allowed you to fall into him, releasing your arms and supporting you as you gripped at his upper biceps. “There we go, princess. Just like that baby.” He whispered to you as he helped you ride through your high, praising you as your moans shifted to soft whimpers of overstimulation.

It wasn't long until that coil began to tighten in your stomach, and Rhysand's thrusts into your mouth grew sloppy. He sent you the image of yourself on your knees for him, of the spit near your mouth, of your mascara stained cheeks. You felt yourself beginning to fall over the edge right as Rhysand did. He pushed deep into your throat again, groaning loudly as he spilled down your throat. "Don't fucking swallow yet."

He pulled out of your mouth, holding your jaw open. His smirk grew feral as he spit into your mouth, "Swallow." He allowed you to close your jaw, still watching as you swallowed every last drop before dropping to his knees and replacing the darkness between your thighs with his own hand.

He quickly forced two fingers inside of you and calmed the stretch by rubbing his palm against your clit. He used his freehand to fist the hair at the nap of your neck, pulling it again before forcing you to kiss him in a mesh of teeth and spit. It was sloppy, driven by sheer lust as passion as his fingers stroked your inner walls, massaging and hitting that spot only he ever found over and over. He pulled back from you, circling your clit with his thumb as his forehead rested against yours, eyes meeting yours and sparkling lust. “Cum for me, y/n,” he commanded. “Let go, darling.”

Rhys removed his fingers from your slick core and brought them to his mouth. He groaned as he licked the juices from them. He laid you back on the floor gently, climbing on top of you and kissing your neck. HIs kisses began to trail lower and lower, pausing at your breasts to pull you nipples into his mouth one at time and mark your breasts. Wet hot kisses then trailed down your stomach. Rhys stopped right above your core, looking at you again. “1 to 10, darling?

You whispered softly in reply. “4.”

Rhysand smiled, licking a long trail through your folds at the response. “Good. Because I’m not done with you.”

“We should do this again,” you said breathlessly, as he moved your legs over his shoulders.

“No,” Rhys said plainly. “I do not know how you do it, but I cannot breathe in that damn thing. Azriel and I will be discussing those masks. You and the Twins need better." He paused, looking at your core like a man starved. "This, though?” Rhys licked up you again, sucking your clit into his mouth and rolling his tongue over it. Your eyes rolled back, body falling deeper into the floor as you moaned his name. This I can do all day.

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar

[kissagii]

Your brothers are dumb, but Isagi is always your number one fan.

cw: gender neutral reader, 2.4k words, reader is rin & sae's musically gifted sibling, silly isagi, obscene amounts of pining, i don't know how music competitions work lol

@celestair it's here!!!! thank you so much for the fabulous prompt <3

“So, you’re on next, how do you feel?” Your friend Yuki asks, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. The performer before you is wrapping up his piece, and your turn on stage is approaching far too quickly.

“Were they there?” You whisper, completely ignoring her question. 

“Didn’t see ‘em,” Yuki sighs, “But hey, you can’t see anything from up on that stage, don’t give up just yet.”

Despite her attempts at encouragement, you both know the truth. They aren’t there. They never are. Even now, as you prepare to step onstage in the final round of a national piano competition, your two soccer-obsessed brothers are nowhere to be found. You should’ve expected that from the start when the most they could offer to your invitation was “ok.” 

How many soccer games have you attended by now? How many hours have you spent in the sweltering heat, watching your brothers run up and down a field kicking a ball around? And despite all that, they have yet to deem one of your music events as worth their time. You’re half sure the reason they neglected to arrive was because neither one would be caught dead sitting in the same room as the other. It’s always a competition with those two – a test to see who could be the better soccer player, the worse brother – and you’re simply caught in the crossfire as you pursue your own wholly different passions. 

But now, unfortunately, there’s only one thing to do: go out on stage, play your heart out, and hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a scrap of recognition from one of the fools who shared your last name. 

“Break a leg. And don’t let your shitty brothers get to you,” Yuki says, nudging you out onto the stage as the previous performer exited past you.

When you walk onstage there is no announcement of your name, no applause. There never is. Just a silence so thick it could be cut with a knife as the audience watches with judging eyes, anticipating eyes, and… hopeful eyes? The stage feels different today, fresh and pleasantly cool, as if the crushing expectations are lifted ever so slightly.

Then you see him. It’s just a glance, an impression of an individual, a hint of green and black in your periphery. But when he sees you it’s earth-shattering. He can breathe again – but only one barely-muffled gasp, because you’re quick to steal the air from his lungs as his heart begins to inexplicably race. Isagi has been in the same audience seat many times by now – the same seat every time, for his favorite view – yet every time he sees you walk out onto that stage it’s like rebirth, a preparation for the waves of joy and sadness and admiration and, dare he say it, love, that would wash over him as you played. All he has to hope is that you know he’s there, watching like he always is. And for the first time, you know – you deeply, truly, know – someone is out there watching you.

For this competition, you chose Liszt’s Un Sospiro. After mastering the technique, you spent hours of practice imbuing the piece with a thousand emotions, a thousand ways to sigh, and yet none of them felt quite right. So in the ten seconds before your fingers hit the keys, you have a decision to make.

Yoichi.

Of course, how could you forget? 

Without a moment’s hesitation, you begin to play, the notes dancing with the image in your mind. Simply the thought of him makes your heart race in time with the arpeggios, your measured breaths falling out of time as you let the music wash over you. The emotion flows so naturally you’re not sure if you’re pushing them into the music or if the music is pulling them out of you, a different one for each phrase, the joy and fear and longing and hope and desperation. You could practically see them, figures of light in every color dancing together across the stage and out into the audience, seeking out their target. 

They more than find their target: they crash into him like unceasing waves. Each one slightly different than the last, yet all so familiar; a language without words, yet each phrase he understands clearly. 

Is it five minutes, one, or thirty? Time begins to blur, everything fading to soft pink and green and orange and blue, colors and sounds existing independently of earthly constraints. It’s transcendental, almost, the room immersed in a lovestruck state of reverie until the final notes echo through the auditorium.  

By the end of the piece his chest is aching, and yours is aching too. The exhilaration hardly makes sense – were you not full of worry only minutes ago? Or had it been an eternity since anything other than Yoichi was on your mind? Adrenaline pulsing through your veins makes your head spin as you attempt to process your own performance. Oh, how unreal it felt. It had been a long time since you last felt so moved by your own playing… yes, truly a long time. 

The audience applauds with the required politeness, if not a bit louder than usual. None of it falls on your ears, though. You’re too busy staring at Isagi’s distant face as he gazes back at you with sparkling cobalt eyes. He nearly forgets to clap, sitting so unblinkingly still that those in the seats next to him wonder if he’s alright. He’s more than alright – his mind is racing in the same way it does when he scores a goal, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep him from running to you now. 

As soon as you’re backstage, Yuki barrels into you, earning a few miffed glares from the last few performers preparing to go on. “Oh my god, that was amazing!” She whisper-yells, “I’ve never heard you play like that! See, I knew you’d do just fine without them in the audience.” 

Right. Them. You had forgotten about them while onstage. 

“I think I’ve found someone else worth playing for,” You murmur, half to yourself. For the first time, you didn’t really mind that your brothers hadn’t been there. Of course, it would’ve been nice, but without them… without them, you had made magic. You can make magic.

Yuki smiles brightly, the way she always does. “You’ve gotta tell me everything. And quickly, so as soon as this shindig is over you can head out and see your loverboy.”

“How’d you know that’s what it was?”

“Trust me, it was obvious. I’m pretty sure everyone knew.”

So, of course, you tell her everything. And as soon as the final round of applause echoes down the hallway, you’re getting pushed toward the door, standing nervously in the auditorium lobby until a familiar face emerges from the exit doors.

You see him first, which means you get to watch in real-time as he sees you and immediately lights up like a kid in a candy store. It’s his third epiphany of the day, and the only thing he can think to do is run toward you, frantically apologizing to strangers as he weaves through the crowd. Before you can even greet him or thank him for coming, he thrusts a large bouquet of flowers into your hands.

“You did amazing! Your music is like magic and I think I might be in love with you!” Isagi blurts out.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, that was probably tactless. No, it was definitely tactless. I’m sorry. It’s just, I saw you up there and I heard you play and it was like the music was talking to me and it was saying, oh, by the way, you have feelings for them and it’s actually ridiculous that you didn’t notice earlier because you’re absolutely whipped, y’know? Is that weird?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his unrestrained reaction, the genuineness in his tone. “No, it’s not weird at all.”

“It’s not?” He asks, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Of course not. It means you heard what I was trying to tell you.”

It’s his turn to be surprised, and he lets out a soft, confused, “Eh?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to confess to you directly, so I did it the only way I knew how. Yoichi, will you go out with me?” 

“Yes! Absolutely!” He beams, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen him smile before; little wrinkles appear next to his eyes and his slightly crooked teeth are on full display. Shyly, he asks: “Could I hug you?”

“Please do,” you say, opening your arms to let him wrap his tightly around you. For a moment you stand in silence (not true silence, of course, because the room is full of people) and feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest. He feels your heartbeat too, he swears he can hear it over the noise.

“Thank you for coming, Yoichi,” You whisper, gripping the flower bouquet tightly, “It means a lot to me that you could be here.”

He hugs you tighter, so tight it feels like your ribs might crack in his grip. “Of course. You always come to my big games, there’s no way I’d let myself miss one of your big events. Speaking of that, do you know when the results come out?”

Though you’d like to keep hugging him forever, you let go and check the time.

“They’ll let us back into the auditorium in an hour, though they never seem to announce the winners on time.”

“In that case, can I take you out on a date while we wait? Unless you already made plans to wait with someone else… ahh, I really should’ve thought this out more.” Isagi scratches the back of his neck with an awkward smile, a nervous habit of his that never seems to lose its charm.

“Oh, no, I don’t have plans. I’m sure Yuki’s already gone off with her boyfriend, and you’re the only person I really know who showed up to watch. Spending the hour with you is a serious step up from waiting alone.” 

“Let’s go then! There’s a cute café just down the road if you’re hungry, or we could go walk around the mall if you’d prefer.” 

Isagi lets you lead for the hour, making it a bit of an early celebration. Because while the results aren’t out just yet, he’s entirely sure that your performance is worth a hundred gold medals and more. Anything you want to do is good enough for him, even if it’s something as simple as window shopping in formal wear, and he does everything in his power to make sure he’s the best new boyfriend possible. After all, he’s won at life, hasn’t he? Because now he gets to date you – he gets to give you flowers and cheer for you and hold your hand and make you smile. 

As you sit in the adjacent seats waiting for the results to be announced, he rubs his finger affectionately over your thumb. 

“See, I told you they’d start late,” You whisper with a laugh.

“They must’ve realized their trophy wasn’t big enough to properly congratulate you,” He whispers back.

“Hey, don’t say things like that! I haven’t won yet.” 

“I don’t think you witnessed yourself perform. You did amazing.”

“And you’re not a musician, so you’re not qualified to decide who won.”

“Even an untrained ear can tell you were the best up there. Trust me.”

Before you can come up with a witty reply, the head judge steps up to the podium on stage, holding a single sheet of paper in her hand. She gives a short speech – something about appreciating the hard work of the competitors – but neither you nor Isagi hear half of what she says. The room is silent waiting for the top three to be announced. 

“In third place,” The Judge calmly says into the microphone, “Matsuoka Yuki.”

Immediately you burst into cheers, hastily untangling your hand from Isagi’s so you can applaud your friend. Her performance had been stunning, and she’s more than deserving of the prestigious accomplishment. 

“In second place,” The Judge continues, once the applause quiets down, “Watanabe Shigeru.”

Another talented performer, of course. He had won his fair share of competitions, and the two of you had stood together on the winner’s stage more than once. As soon as you finish applauding, Isagi grabs your hand and squeezes tightly, as if to say the Judge will call your name next, I just know she will.

The moment you spent months waiting for is here. Either your hours of rehearsal and stress and aching hands paid off, or they didn’t. And the only thing between you and knowing was one sentence from the Head Judge’s mouth.

“Finally, in first place, winner of the Japan National Piano Competition, Itoshi Y/n.”

I’ve won. It’s as if you’re up on that stage once more, the way that the room explodes into applause like thunder. Isagi is shouting and shaking you by the shoulders – he really couldn’t be prouder of you. He knew all along, it seems, that your indirect confession was worth a gold medal from the organization and a thousand more in his heart.

The head judge invites the winners up to the stage, and Isagi nearly pushes you out of your seat to receive your award. Yuki meets you onstage, whispering her polite but excited congratulations to you. You return them hurriedly before taking your place on stage to be presented with your trophy. The process of handshakes and photographs feels like it takes forever when all you and Isagi want is to spend the rest of the afternoon together in celebration. 

Isagi meets you in the auditorium lobby again, and he presents you with the same bouquet of flowers a second time. “You won! You actually won! I’m so proud of you!” 

“Thank you, Yoichi,” You say, grasping his hand with your free one, “Thank you for being here to inspire me. Now c’mon, let’s go celebrate!”

The rest of the afternoon is blissful, almost unreal, just you and Isagi enjoying the sweetness of victory and love. When your phone begins receiving text message after text message you can hardly be bothered to reply immediately, even when you get the message you nearly spent the whole day waiting for.

rin: good job on the competition or wtv

isagi 💚

#imagine ⋆｡°✩ #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x gn reader #isagi x gender neutral reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi x you #isagi x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x gender neutral reader

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

33 in hand holding with leto?

Sorry this took so long nonnie!

33. bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

Warnings: Angst; pining; brief wound description

"Leave us."

The sound of his voice makes your stomach churn with nerves. Your eyes flit to Gurney's just in time to see the thin press of his lips, and his warning frown—don't shoot your mouth off, not now. He pats your knee before he rises from the chair across from yours. You don't have to turn to see whatever looks pass between him and the Duke. You can only hope that he offers another warning, but you can't be sure. Gurney has an allegiance to the Duke that he doesn't have to you.

You're a fellow soldier, and you have his respect, but the Duke rose him from the hellish Harkonnen pit and gave him a new life.

You force yourself to focus on your breathing as you hear the door shut behind Gurney, leaving you alone with—

You don't dare look at Leto as he lowers himself to sit in front of you.

He's silent as he takes stock of the supplies that Gurney had laid out to tend to your wound, the gaping cut that runs the length of your palm where you'd stopped a knife from connecting with Leto's neck. Gurney has already cleaned it, laying the wound plain for his Grace.

Leto takes a jar of salve up, removing the lid and allowing the sharp, sterile scent to fill the air between the two of you. Your heart leaps as he cradles your hand in his, and scoops a hearty amount out. It's going to sting, but you resolve to sit still and stone-faced through it all.

You wait for the rebuke, the scolding that you acted recklessly. You wait for him to tell you that your blood is spilled across his desk, his documents. You wait for him to tell you that he would have handled it without need for your intervention.

Your answers sit ready on your tongue. Your act was not reckless, it was necessary. You've spilled blood for the House of Atreides, and this is no different. Copies of documents can be made; desks can be cleaned or removed. There is only one of him, and he cannot be replaced or replicated. You're certain that he could have handled it. You know that it is a quick man, strong, and capable.

But you had seen the knife, and you had leapt without thinking. You hadn't given a second thought between putting yourself between him and harm's way.

Leto caps the salve again, reaching for a thick roll of bandages next. You fight to keep your palm open despite the prickle of the medicine itching your aching skin.

You finally allow yourself to glance at him as his hones in on wrapping the bandage. You can feel him moving slowly, wrapping your hand with care. His lashes sweep across the apples of his cheeks; his lips are set in a grim purse; his jaw is tight. With each pass of the wrapping, he draws in a soft breath and sighs it out again. You can feel him tuck the edge in securely, and nearly flinch when his gaze lifts to hold yours.

Neither of you speak as you sit there, your hand still cradled in his, his thumb sweeping across the side of your palm, away from the wound.

"...Do not do it again."

It's a warning, and a plea. It hits you in the heart, and in that moment, you know that you cannot follow his order.

You will do it again. You will do it again and again and again until every threat is neutralized, or until you draw your last breath.

But if voicing the lie will help him sleep; if it'll lessen those dark, growing circles beneath his eyes; if it'll keep you on his detail, where you can ensure his safety—

"I won't."

#Leto Atreides x Reader #Leto Atreides x You #Leto Atreides/Reader #Leto Atreides/You #Leto Atreides fic #Leto Atreides imagine #asks #replies #anon #requests

[kaleldobrev]

You Make Me Happy

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Fem!Reader

Summary: With you doing what he believes to be an incredibly reckless thing on a hunt, Dean finally realizes how much you really mean to him

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing (2x), Mutual Pining, Slightly angry Dean

Authors Note: Dean just really loves Y/N and wants them to be safe | This came out longer than I expected it to be | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

“Dean, I really, really am sorry okay? I don’t know what else you want me to say. I saw a chance and I took it.” Your heart was racing to the point that you wouldn’t have been surprised if it just busted out of your chest. You dropped your duffel bag with a quiet thud at your feet.

Dean turned to you, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor of the Bunker; the sound of the drop slightly echoing unlike yours. When he looked at you, his face was hard, and his jaw was clenched. Although he had the most beautiful green eyes that you have ever seen, despite everything that he has gone through, there was always some kind of light behind them. But in this moment, there was no light behind them – they were dark, ice cold, and his stare was like a sharp knife piercing into your skin. “Sorry? That’s it?” His voice was harsh and sounded just as cold as his stare.

You had seen him mad plenty of times before, this life would do that to you, but this was the first time that you had ever seen him mad at you. Him being mad at you was something that you’d hoped that you never have to experience; because the last thing you wanted was to have Dean Winchester upset with you. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time Sweetheart,” he continued. “You did something reckless and almost got yourself killed.”

“Oh, like you’ve never done anything reckless in your life Dean.” The minute you said those words out loud, you knew in your gut that you were in trouble. Dean stepped closer to you, not breaking the cold stare that he had on you. The tension in the room was so thick that you could probably cut it with a knife.

“I may be reckless, but I’m not stupid. What you did…that…that was stupid.” What you had done, you didn’t think it was reckless or stupid; you thought that it was pretty smart considering the circumstances.

The two of you had just gotten back from clearing a vamp’s nest a state over, and it was considered to be a relatively small one – only about three in the nest compared to the usual five plus. With Sam out of commission for the moment – who knew the common flu could make someone like Sam be bed ridden for days – you offered to go along with Dean. At first, Dean didn’t want you to come along because you really weren’t that experienced with vampires. You had taken one out a few years ago, but that was all there was – only one vamp one time; and this was going to be at least three, maybe more. You had reassured Dean that you were not a child and have been hunting for over a decade; something that he sometimes forgets from time to time. While in the warehouse where they were stationed, Dean got cornered by one of the vamps who had knocked his machete from his hand. You were on the top floor and there was a long chain next to you. You eyed the chain and grabbed onto it, your machete in the other hand and swung over and chopped the vamps head off, thus saving Dean. When you touched down, you thought how cool it was, but Dean on the other hand thought it was reckless of you to do something like that. The whole car ride back to the Bunker there were no words exchanged between the two of you unlike the usual banter you had; it was just the sounds of AC/DC.

“Dean, if I didn’t do my little swing and a hit trick back there with that vamp, you would have been dead.” He was closer to you now and all you could do was start backing up; Dean was starting to scare you a bit.

“And if that chain didn’t hold you? Newsflash, you would have been dead too Sweetheart.” There was so much anger building up inside of him. A part of him was grateful for what you did, another part was impressed that you were able to pull off something like that, but the strongest part of him was angry that you risked your life like that, not fully knowing if your little plan was going to work or not. “I’m fucking awesome! Did you see that?” You said to him, the biggest smile plastered on your face. Truthfully, when he saw you do that, he had wanted to kiss you in that moment and tell you how awesome it really looked; how superhero like it looked. But all that came out was, “What the fuck was that?” The second he said those words, your once huge smile dropped.

“I’m gonna go to my room.” You made your way around Dean. “You…you should go shower…cool off.” You suggested.

It had been a few hours since you and Dean had that weird confrontation. Dean had taken a shower like you had suggested he do in order to cool off and was now sitting on the floor of his bedroom with a beer in one hand looking through photos of the two of you. As he drank, he stopped on a particular picture; it happened to be one of his favorites and he honestly had no idea why. The two of you weren’t doing anything particularly special; it was just some random picture that Jack had taken of the two of you about a few months back. For Jack’s birthday this year, you had bought them a polaroid camera because you had wanted to teach Jack about making memories. “Sometimes humans like to take pictures when they want to remember a moment, or a particular person forever.” You had told them. The photo that Jack had taken of the two of you were of you guys sitting next to each other in the War Room, each of you with an open book in front of you on the table with Dean looking at you with the biggest smile on his face. For some reason, this was the moment that Jack had wanted to capture, and Dean had no idea why so he had asked Jack. “You looked happy. It’s like what Y/N said. Humans take pictures when they want to remember a moment or person forever. This moment was happy, and I want us to remember that.” Is how Jack responded to the question.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the picture. “I really do look happy.” He said aloud to himself. He took a sip of his beer and moved onto the next picture. This one he knew was your favorite. In this picture of the two of you that Jack had taken, you were sitting in front of Baby. Dean was in the driver’s seat like normal with his hands on the steering wheel, while you were in the passenger seat giving him the biggest smile with one of your hands resting on his thigh. Dean had remembered that day clearly – not fully knowing why – but you and him were going to run errands in town. It was supposed to be just the two of you, and for some reason Dean was excited that it was just going to be the two of you. But you had asked Jack if they wanted to come along so they could get more experience being around people. Jack of course said yes and insisted that they bring their polaroid camera. At some point during the drive to town, your hand had found his thigh and you had given it a small pat. Dean asked Jack a few days later after seeing the picture and asked why Jack had taken it. “Y/N looked really happy. I like seeing her happy; like how I like seeing you, Cas, and Sam happy.”

“You looked happy…Y/N looked really happy.” Jack’s words echoed in Dean’s mind. “You really do look happy Sweetheart. God knows why.” Dean commented placing the photo back into the small wooden box he kept underneath his bed. “Humans take pictures when they want to remember a moment or person forever.” Yet another sentence of Jack’s that echoed in the back of his mind. These sentences, looking at these pictures of the two of you, getting unnecessarily angry after the hunt, looking forward to spending alone time with you – it was all starting to click into place for him. These pictures of the two of you and the memories that he had of you were the only things that he would have left to remember you by if you had died on this hunt. He would have lost someone that truly made him happy, and that scared him; the thought of losing you.

You were lying in bed watching TV, still slightly wet from the shower you had just taken. You were under the blankets and wearing one of Dean’s faded Motörhead t-shirts that he had given you because it no longer fit him. He was originally going to throw it out, but you had convinced him to give it to you because, “It still has some life left in it.” In which he replied, “Knock yourself out Sweetheart.”

There was a light knocking at your door. “Who is it?” You asked.

“It’s me.” Dean replied. Dean was the last person you wanted to talk to right now, still slightly upset about the way he had talked to you a few hours earlier.

“Who’s me?” You asked, full well knowing that it was Dean – you recognized his voice, and his footsteps from a mile away. “I don’t know who me is.”

You heard Dean sigh from the other side of the door. “Dean.”

“Come in.” You said shutting off your TV; you had a feeling that he had wanted to talk.

Dean opened your door slowly. “Can we…Can we talk?” He stepped into your room and shut the door behind him.

“Are you going to get mad at me again?” Your question made him sigh.

“No. I’m…I came to apologize. You…you didn’t do anything wrong.” You raised an eyebrow at his weird attempt at an apology.

“You said I was reckless, that what I did was stupid.” You were confused. He was so angry just several hours earlier, not taking your apology but here he was attempting to apologize to you.

“Honestly…the way you swung on that chain and chopped his head off, it was…it was awesome.” He walked toward your bed and sat down on the edge of it. “I know you were only trying to save me. And…you did. Because, truthfully, I’d be as dead as a doornail if it weren’t for your quick thinking back there.”

“So, you’re not…mad?” You questioned.

“No, not anymore. I uh, I shouldn’t have gotten as mad as I did, and truthfully, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at all. But I realized why I was so angry before. I wasn’t angry at you. I was…” He looked you in the eyes; his eyes were no longer full of that darkness and coldness that was there a few hours earlier. “I was mad because I didn’t like the possibility of losing you.” To some, this admission may have seemed like it came out of nowhere, but not for you. For some time you knew how the older Winchester brother had felt about you; but you weren’t completely sure if it was in a platonic or romantic way. But the way he had said it, you knew that the feeling wasn’t platonic – it was romantic in nature.

“Dean.” You inched yourself toward him and placed a hand on his thigh. “You’re not going to lose me, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you may not be able to keep Y/N.” He was afraid, and you could hear his voice was slightly breaking. “I’ve lost too many people that promised me that they were going to come back that didn’t.” You knew about some of the people that he was referring to, but not all of them. Some of the people that he had just hinted at were some of the same ones that you had lost.

“Okay.” Was all you could say at first, knowing that Dean was right. There was no way you could in fact keep that promise; especially being in this life. “But I know…I know there’s one promise that I can keep.” You stated. You removed yourself from underneath the blankets and adjusted yourself to sitting on your knees, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“What’s that Sweetheart?” Dean asked.

“I can promise you that, as long as I live, I’ll always be in your corner no matter what. As a friend, family…” you were unsure if you should say the next couple of words but decided to say them, probably against your better judgement. “Romantic partner…I’ll be there, even if you think I’m not, I will be.”

“Romantic partner uh?” He asked amused, placing his hands on your hips. If someone walked in right now, they would have never guessed that you and Dean had an argument only hours earlier, and just had a somewhat emotional conversation not even a minute ago. “You make it sound so…business like.” A strand of hair fell in front of your face just then, but before you could do anything about it, Dean was already on top of it, tucking the strand behind your ear. Without any kind of hesitation, he leaned in, and so did you; your lips capturing each other’s.

The kiss went on longer than either of you probably expected; and it was the type of kiss that you weirdly weren’t expecting from someone like Dean. It wasn’t rough or lustful; it was gentle and slightly needy. You were the one that broke the kiss between the two of you – something that you thought wouldn’t happen. You looked at him for a moment, slightly brushing his cheek with your thumb. “Does this make us romantic partners now?” You half joked.

“You tell me Sweetheart. It can be anything you want it to be.” He responded.

“Romantic business partners it is.” You stated, leaning in again to kiss him. He was happy for you to of said yes, even if it was in your own weird way.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x reader #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #reader insert #female reader #supernatural #spn

[sprout-fics]

request for ghost 👀 ghost x medic!reader that is basically the opposite of him. super gentle and docile, they’re the sunshine of the team (affectionately named by Soap). ghost is infatuated but refuses to believe someone as good hearted as them could ever be interested in him. like he feels like he’s not good enough for reader but reader is scared of rejection so they also don’t say anything. basically two idiots in love pining for each other

Sunshine (Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN! Reader)

Rating: M

Word Count: 2.5 k

Warnings: Explicit mention of murder, blood, and injuries, I have not played any of the games so if Ghost is OOC then shoot me I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summary:

“Sunshine” They called you. It was a bit of a misnomer, all things considered. While your sweet, gentle personality was quietly adored off the field, your laser focus and scorching gaze locked that part of you away on mission. Soap had teased you once in the early days as you stitched his arm in a safehouse, saying you had the sweetest, gentlest touch on a medic he’d ever felt.

“Feels like fuckin’ sunshine, corporal.” He slurred, heavy off painkillers as you tended to the bullet in his shoulder. “Best hands I’ve ever had on me.”

You had given him a sharp pinch for the innuendo, but the nickname had stuck anyways.

It had taken some time to earn the trust of the group. They had been burned one too many times to take in a new member without a healthy amount of suspicion. It was only after you had managed to patch them up half a dozen times each that they grew accustomed to your steady, reaffirming presence.

Most of them, at least.

Ghost was a quiet one, living up to his name as he lingered in the shadows, haunting like a specter at the corner of every scene. When he spoke, it was only to issue orders, to patch into the comms and relay intel. Like a wraith, his broad form occupied the corner of your mind, his voice a rough hard scrape like soot against your fingertips. His eyes watched you from afar, deadly, precise, ever true to his aim.

You never see his face.

“Don’t worry, he’s just got a bad chin.” Soap whispers conspiratorially to you as you both lay low over a rooftop that looks over your target. “Like one of those goddamn Hapsburg royals.”

“I doubt that.” You snort, eyes never leaving your scope.

Still, you do wonder sometimes. You can’t help it. There’s something inside you that gravitates towards him like being pulled in by a black hole. The very presence of him draws your eyes to his, dark, unflinching, cold. Sometimes you feel like he can see straight through you, as transparent as a phantom.

“Sunshine, on me.” He barks, and damn if you two don’t make quite the duo- bright sunlight and a dead man walking.

The only times you get glimpses of him are when he’s injured, which is rare. You pull up his sleeve to reveal his forearm, thick, muscular, veiny. For a moment you want to trace your fingers over it, nails scraping against the dark ink in contrast to his skin- a skull.

Ghost’s eyes never leave you as you work, and you don’t notice the way his gaze lingers over your lips, your lashes.

You talk to him as you clean the cut- a sharp slice of a knife from a terrorist who got too close. He had been a step to your left, and you had raised your gun but Ghost had gotten him first. You didn’t even realize the hulking soldier was in your shadow until his knife was buried into the man’s neck and a curse tore from his throat at the blade lodged in his own arm.

The blood drips red across your gloved fingers as you try to distract him from the pain, and yourself from the strange flutter that echoes low in your stomach. Inside, you try to quell whatever this is- this want, this need inside you for him to be even closer, to hear his voice whisper across your skin.

Your nimble fingers work over the wound, neatly gathering the edges. It’ll leave a scar, and you wonder for a moment just how many he has, exactly. What are the stories that tie them to his flesh? The history woven into the sinew of his muscles?

“I’m sorry.” You offer, and your voice is quiet somehow, unable to fill the scant space between you. Sorry that you had been too slow, sorry he had gotten hurt as a result, sorry for having feelings despite yourself.

“…It’s fine.” The Lieutenant offers after several long heartbeats. “I’m fine.”

It’s not fine, not really, but you accept his words regardless.

“Thank you.” Ghost manages after you’re done, and his voice is uncharacteristically subdued. His eyes avert from you, as if he doesn’t want to meet your gaze. That shiver inside you swoops low with uncertainty at his hesitation, but before you can part your lips to speak he’s gone as if he was never there at all.

---

It’s only after a close call that is far too close that things change.

The sniper catches you by surprise, having managed to circle around your group and catch you from behind. The bullet goes straight through your shoulder, and if you hadn’t turned to listen to Price just a millisecond prior you know it would have been through your skull. The impact topples you forward onto the rubbled concrete below you, and the world is spinning, ringing as Price is shouting orders seconds before the rapid pop of gunfire erupts around you.

“Sunshine!!”

You try to stand, to reach for your weapon but it feels like your lungs are caught between a hydraulic press. There’s blood splattered across the ground under your hands and it blurs as your vision tries to right itself from the pain. Someone is calling your name but it sounds like it's coming through water, garbled and distant.

The world around you shifts abruptly, tilting on its axis as a pair of thick cut arms lifts you like you’re no heavier than a sack of flour. Hands reach across you, removing the strap of your rifle from your form and you catch a glimpse of the blood that’s soaked through it, dark and glistening.

“Got ‘em.” A voice gravels next to your ear, and it takes you more than one second to realize its Ghost who’s got you slung over his bulking shoulders, his gear digging into your ribcage as you wheeze and try to ground yourself against the nauseating wave of pain that bubbles up your throat, thick and red.

“Go!” Price barks, and you dimly are aware of the fact that he sounds oddly afraid. “We’ll cover you.”

The world is jostling, turning, shifting, and the sudden dizziness of it all crashes over you as your vision turns black.

---

The next hour comes in flashes of black and red, and you learn later that the bullet narrowly missed an artery- a fatal blow. Your entire left side is soaked in blood by the time you wake, but you’re alive, drowsy, laying down on a cleared off table at the safe house with the dusty kitchen light shining brightly down on you.

You hiss at the brightness and try to move to press a hand to the wound, only for an iron-rod grip to settle your wrist back onto the flat surface under you.

“Don’t.”

You blink for a few moments, turning your head to meet the white skull mask next to you. The lieutenant looks comically too large for the chair he’s sitting in, and with his size his gaze is still above you, gazing down with that unblinking stare

“You lost a lot of blood.” Ghost relays calmly, his grip still on your wrist. It’s nice, the warmth of his hand spilling through his glove onto your clammy skin. “Thought we lost you.”

There’s a tenderness in his voice that surprises you, and you can’t tell if it’s the painkillers helping you imagine it. The fact that he’s sitting here, with you, instead of with the voices that filter in from the other room, should tell you something. Your senses are too cloudy, heavy and weighed down by whatever they gave you for the pain.

“ ‘M not dead.” You manage, voice a hard scrape in your throat. “It’ll take more than that to make me a ghost.”

Maybe it’s the painkiller after all, but you swear you hear him chuckle.

---

You’re haunted after that.

Ghost’s figure is too large for your own shadow, but he stays there nonetheless, dark and omnipresent like a curse. In some ways it is. The constant presence of him forces you to constantly push down that flutter in your stomach, to make sure your eyes don’t linger on his for too long, to not say his name like the soft sigh that it is in your heart. You catch his eyes and feel a rush of warmth creep up your neck under your gear, feel the phantom of his touch skim across your wrist.

You’ve fallen for him.

Fuck.

That itself is not a problem- well, it is, but not as bad as the issue it presents. You can’t say anything. He’s your superior, you’re part of his team, and there are clear boundaries that can’t be crossed in wartime.

More than that though, is the fact that he probably doesn’t feel the same. Ghost has never mentioned anything about romance, even to Soap, who he seems closest with. When you had gently queried the sergeant for intel on the topic he had merely looked at you as if you expected him to know the secret of the afterlife itself. You count your blessings that Soap is dense when it comes to that sort of topic, otherwise he’d be pestering you for weeks about your little secret.

So, you try to contain it, this infatuation of yours, spoon feeding yourself lies about how it’ll pass, how it’s just a phase, that you two were never meant to be. It’s difficult to do just that when he’s always there, crowding into your space like your own personal attack dog, wordlessly present at all times. His eyes trace you as you pass, and you feel the chill of them carve into your bones and leave you trembling and weak.

It's fine, I’m fine. You tell yourself, more than once a day at this point, forcing down the rush of warmth when your eyes meet, when you hear his voice speak your name, when you feel him right fucking behind you.

On top of it all, Ghost starts putting you in the backseat, starts holding you from rooms until they’ve been cleared, and starts treating you like a goddamn rookie. The part of you that is hopeless over him thinks at first he’s being overprotective, watching your six and making sure there will never be a repeat of the incident that nearly cost you your life. You know better than that though, know that Ghost likely doesn’t have feelings for you, that he’s putting you on the back burner deliberately to teach you a lesson over not paying attention- and that pisses you right off.

It takes a while but you manage to corner him back at base after a successful mission where you all but sat on your ass the entire time while he and Price took the lead. You find him lurking in a back hallway, and you can’t contain your uncharacteristic anger as you stride up to him, plant your hands on either side of him on the wall and gaze furiously up at his masked face.

“What.” You grit. “-the fuck was that?!”

Ghost, for what he’s worth, actually looks surprised. The expression is foreign to you, his eyes usually cold and dead, calculating and precise. He stiffens, and even though you barely reach his collarbone with just how gigantic he is, manages to look like he’s actually a bit apprehensive of your stance towards him. In any other situation it would be borderline comical, with how you’re trying to physically intimidate a man much, much larger than yourself, with your arms barely able to box him in on either side.

“Watch your tone corporal.” He replies at last, and there’s a warning in his voice you don’t heed.

“Not until you tell me exactly why you’ve decided to treat me like I don’t know which end of the gun to shoot with.” You snap back, and the look your words earn you is chill inducing. Even so you don’t back down. “You have me being baby-sat during these missions like you can’t trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

The words spill out before he can catch them, and the confession has you both startled and blinking at each other wide-eyed. You feel shock spill across your chest, electric and dazzling for all of a moment. You aren’t surprised at the fact that Ghost trusts you, it’s the fact that he went so far as to say it out loud, voicing a rare instance of his inner thoughts to you in your confusion.

“Then why?” You ask, and you hate the way your voice sounds almost desperate, pleading for an answer.

Ghost stiffens, and you feel his muscles ripple as they brush against you.

“…I couldn’t have you injured again.” He speaks at last, and you know he’s trying to school his voice into a cold indifference, but you can hear the little note of shame there, of guilt.

“I’m going to get injured no matter what. That’s the job.” You point out, unable to contain the bite from your words.

“No.” Ghost manages, and his voice is tight, choked. “Not like that.”

You blink up at him, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in his voice, the way he seems to almost be pleading with you.

Yet your entire world screeches to a halt at his next words.

“Because it’s you.”

Your heart beats against your chest like a trapped bird, and suddenly you’re stumbling back from him, back braced against the opposite wall of the hallway as you try to reconcile his words with reality.

Because it’s you.

“Why…why didn’t you say anything?” You croak, hands coming up to your face to massage your temples. “All this time, you…you didn’t say anything.”

Ghost shifts where he stands, and you know him well enough at this point that he’s fighting the urge to walk away, to blend into the shadow and pretend like this conversation never happened.

“You don’t feel the same.” He says bluntly, voice detached and empty as he braces for what he thinks is your inevitable rejection. “And even if you did, I…don’t deserve someone like you.”

Your eyes shoot up to meet his, and you shiver at what you find there. Hurt, longing, desire dark and deep and barely tamed.

“You-“ Ghost manages, and you can feel the discomfort radiating off of him, this brute man built like a tank but taken down by a few tender words. “You’re too good, sunshine.”

Slowly, the pieces fit together, like skin mended together by the seam of a stitch.

He thinks he doesn’t deserve you, bright and radiant as you are. You’re sunshine and he’s Ghost, he’s shadows and darkness and blood and the whisper of death with every bullet. He’s afraid that if he even touches you he’ll dye you dark at the seams, stifle that brightness within you.

He doesn’t know that light illuminates the darkness.

“Ghost.” You manage at last, and there’s a laugh on your lips, sweet and bitter all at once. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

You yank him down and kiss him through his mask, and something radiant glows inside you both.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ask box #requests #oneshots

[hellfirexhoe]

at the lakehouse | eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the gang spends a few nights at the Harrington’s lakehouse, chaos ensues

4.5K words

warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI, reader is same age as eddie, swearing, drug use (weed), strip poker, me not knowing how poker works, bad writing, mutual pining, friends to lovers, wax play, knife play, fingering, oral (m&f receiving), risky sex, unprotected sex (make good choices), creampie, jonathon probably outside taking pictures idk i forgot he existed

Searching through the Harrington’s kitchen drawers with Eddie in the pitch black was not how either of you guys imagined spending the first week of your summer, but the offer of a secluded lake house with a hot tub was pretty hard to turn down. Steve had however not been able to predict that the night you guys would arrive would be the same night of a massive blackout.

“Anything?” You speak into the darkness and you slam another useless drawer shut,

“Uh-uh,” Eddie opens another cupboard, “How do they not even have torches?”

You shrug, you open another drawer, and in the darkness you can just make out the thin white tapers of a few candles,

“Gotcha!” You spin around grasping the candles in one hand while your other hand goes into Eddie’s pocket where he keeps his lighter,

“Hey! Just because the lights are out doesn’t mean I don’t know that’s you groping me, princess!” You roll your eyes at him while you light up the candles, Eddie watches as your face becomes illuminated, taking in your lips, cheekbones, thick lashes that frame your eyes, the eyes that suddenly meet his,

“uh, everything okay there Eddie?” He coughs to clear his throat and drops his gaze to the floor,

“Mhm- yep totally fine,” You shrug it off and carefully walk your candles back to the coffee table as Robin and Nancy come downstairs, clutching much larger candles, Robin has a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she speaks,

“Guess where we found these!”

“Robin, don’t. I don’t want to think about it anymore.” Nancy groans

“No fucking way. Parental Harrington’s bedroom?” You laugh as Nancy gives a pained nod,

“It could be innocent, but they were right on the night stands.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of candlelight to set the mood.” You all look over at Eddie who hasn’t looked up from the joint he’s rolling,

“And what would you know about setting the mood?” You grinned as you teased him, you guys discussed everything, including sex. Eddie’s lack of input in these discussions had lead the group to believe he had no experience in that department, but no one had wanted to embarrass him by making him confirm it.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Steve appearing from the garage,

“Oh nice, where did you guys find those candles?” Steve gestured to the candles still in Robin’s hands, causing all four of you to start snickering at him. Eddie takes that as his cue to head out to the deck and smoke, you follow, as fun as it would be to watch Steve’s horror at the candle revelation, it would be more fun to get high with Eddie.

“So what was that about setting the mood?” You ask as you take a drag, trying not to leave lipstick on the joint, and as always, failing miserably.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Eddie wiggles his brows at you as he takes the joint from you. You don’t want to pry, he’s your friend and if he doesn’t want to share this information then you can’t force him, so you settle for smoking and trying to ignore the pit of jealousy that has formed at the thought of Eddie with anyone other than you.

You’re both lightly buzzed by the time you return to the living room, flopping down on the beanbag next to Eddie,

“So I’m guessing movies are out of the question?” Robin gestures to the tv,

“Unless you can pull a generator out of your ass, then yes Robin, movies are out of the question. We’ve got board games somewhere around here.” Steve moves up from the sofa and begins to rummage in a cabinet, you hop up to help and Steve smiles at you gratefully,

“Since you’re the only one to help, what do you think?” You scan the cupboard and spot a small deck of cards, a devilish smile forms on your lips “Oh I don’t think you’re going to like my suggestion Steve.” You grab the deck and hold it up to the group flopped on the sofa and bean bags,

“Strip poker anyone?”

“I’m in.” Eddie speaks before Robin and Nancy have even registered what you’ve said. Perv. You think as you look over to your friends, Robin shrugs,

“Alright, no full nudity and no orgies though guys.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You tease but nod at her, “Nance? Steve?”

Steve is watching Nancy with an indecipherable expression, when she agrees she is staring at him, as if they’re having a silent conversation.

“Harrington! You in or out? Nancy’s already seen what you’re working with, why don’t you enlighten the rest of us?” Eddie throws some popcorn at Steve’s face,

“Yeah fine,” Steve settles between you and Nancy, taking the deck from your hands to shuffle.

Eddie is the first to lose an item of clothing, so he takes his jacket off, earning boos from you and Robin,

“Patience ladies, please.” He raises a hand comically. More hands are dealt until you are somehow wearing the most clothes, sitting in a bra and skirt, while everyone else is in their underwear.

“Right I think we’re all suitably uncomfortable now. Y/n wins!” Nancy gestures to you with flourish while you take a bow, trying not to spill out of your bra. “Next game?” Nancy starts shrugging her clothes back on, everyone quickly follows suit, not wanting to be the odd one out who’s happy to sit in their underwear with their friends, you cast a quick look over to Eddie while he’s pulling his shirt back on, slightly disappointed.

“Twister?” Robin jokes, “We’ve seen the goods, now we feel the goods?” This earns a groan from the group,

“Absolutely not,” You all speak in unison,

“Fine, lets play never have I ever,” Robin smiles over at Steve “I’m sure you can find some alcohol somewhere around here.” Steve hops up to his feet and disappears into the kitchen, coming back with a bottle of vodka and some beers tucked under his arm.

“Ground rules, if you need to puke, either run out to the lake or to the bathroom. I am not cleaning up after lightweights.” Steve pulls out the authoritative mother hen voice you’ve heard him use with his little nuggets many times. You grab a shot glass and level it, waiting for everyone else to get ready.

“Right, who’s first?” Nancy looks around the circle you guys have formed around the coffee table,

“I’ll go. Never have I ever had sex in a public place.” Steve and Nancy’s drinks don’t move from the table as he speaks, but you, Eddie and Robin all take your drinks and stare at each other in stunned silence as you set your drinks down,

“Robin? Care to elaborate?” Robin shakes her head, scrunching her face at the vodka burning her throat, “Nope, that’s not part of the game princess, but I’ll share if you will.” You shake your head,

“I’ll plead the 5th” Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Eddie’s ringed fingers tightening over his can, reflecting candlelight. His jaw is tensed until he notices you looking at him and immediately he resets his body into neutral. You wonder if he had lied and was nervous that he’d be caught.

“Ohhhhhh me next! I’ve got a good one!” Robin starts clapping her hands excitedly as she stares you dead in your face, oh shit, you think, Robin knows all of your secrets, you break out in a slight sweat as your mind races - what is she going to say?

“Never have I ever... got my nipples pierced.” You groan as you take another shot, no one else drinks but Eddie is tensed again, trying not to look in your direction. You relax into your seat, of all the dirty secrets Robin knows, she picked the one you really don’t give a shit about.

“Okay, if that’s how we’re going to play I need to swap my drink to the beer, I cant be doing endless vodka shots.” You push your shot glass to the centre of the table and grab a can instead. “My turn then? Never have I ever had a sex dream about Steve’s mom.” Your turn to stare down Robin, who cackles and takes a shot, winking at Steve,

“Sorry Harrington, the blouses get me hot.” Steve makes a disgusted noise as the rest of you erupt into laughter, “Okay, first of all, fuck you y/n, that was a secret,” Robin speaks softly, letting you know she’s not mad “and second of all, it was one time, many months ago.”

“Robin, that doesn’t make it better!” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, “Okay, lets move on from this conversation. Never have I ever, gone skinny dipping.”

Robin and Eddie drink, “You know, we could all go now...big lake, pitch black no one would see us?” the corners of Eddie’s eyes crinkle as he flashes a smile that you could only consider to be dangerous.

“We’ve all been drinking Munson, not the safest idea. Plus you and y/n are still buzzed, I can see it in your pupils.”

“Alright dad, we’ll save the skinny dipping for the morning, all the better to see you with.” Eddie winks at Steve.

The game continues on for a few more rounds, the questions becoming tamer as you go, you’re getting sleepy now and yawn, Eddie noticing this pulls you onto his lap and tickles your ribs to wake you up some more, earning a squeal from you as you writhe around on his lap.

“Wake up, not time for bed yet.”

“Actually, it might be.” Nancy gives a yawn and then holds a finger up to Eddie “Don’t even think of tickling me.”

“Relax, that’s just for y/n, she gets the special treatment.” You both laugh, it was true that Eddie was a lot more physical with you than his other friends, you just put it down to the fact you’d been friends for so long that it just seemed comfortable. But last time he’d got physical with you he’d popped a boner and that kind of shut it down, he’d barely hugged you since then, even though you’d told him it was okay, and that you knew it meant nothing, just hormones.

Your friends say their good nights and start heading upstairs, leaving you still on Eddie’s lap, arms around your waist. You lean back on his chest, settling into him and sighing contentedly.

“Comfy princess?” Eddie asks sweetly, teasing you,

“If I say yes would you get the wrong idea?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes, so comfy.” You grind your hips on the pretense of getting more comfortable, making him take a sharp intake of breath. Eddie’s arms tighten around you, holding you closer before he places a gentle kiss on your neck, then you feel him freeze and let you go.

“Shit, sorry I - I just forgot who I was with.” Eddie stumbled over his words as you turned to look at him,

“Who the fuck do you think I am? Gareth?” You lift his dropping head gently by his chin, smiling at the blushes that now cover Eddie’s cheeks, “Eddie. It’s fine, you can kiss me.” His brown eyes meet yours, then drop to your lips, biting his own. He wants this badly but doesn’t think you could possibly mean it, you’re just fucking with him surely.

Impatience takes over and you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, freeing it before kissing him, your hands in his hair as his return to your waist, pulling you closer. Eddie moans into the kiss, the sound traveling straight to your pussy, making you wet and you start to shift your hips, seeking some friction. Eddie’s hands grip you tighter, cold rings pressing into your skin, forcing your hips down further, granting you some friction against his jeans. You come up for air first, panting, hands now gripping onto his shirt, not willing to let him get away. Eddie’s hands are still rocking your hips, he’s looking up at you with a breathless smile, fuck he’s never looked so pretty.

“What’s on your mind baby?”

“Just thinking about how pretty you look right now.” The flush that spreads across Eddie’s face is adorable,

“Pretty? No that’s all you pretty girl.” You pull Eddie to you, needing to kiss him again, as your lips connect your hands find his and you shift them so they’re resting on your thighs, under your skirt, this time Eddie pulls away,

“Are you sure this is okay? I know we’ve both drank a bit and smoked, I don’t want to do this if you’re not clear headed.” Your heart flutters as he checks in with you, making you want him all the more because you know he’ll keep you safe, he won’t push you further than you want to go. You nod,

“Eddie, I want this. I want this so fucking badly.” You rock your hips against his, and your hands travel to the bottom of your shirt, lifting it above your head as he traces circles on your thighs. Eddie saw your bra earlier, and had to play it cool, this time he lets his eyes widen and his mouth drop open at the sight of the smooth skin, nipples poking through the thin fabric, begging for his attention. His hands trail up your waist, to your back, and rest just below the clasp,

“Can I take this off??” He looks up at you pleadingly,

“Please, things been killing me all day.”

“Oh well, we can’t have that.” Eddie unclasps your bra and in a swift motion throws it somewhere in the room. Before you can cover your chest with your hands his mouth is at it, kissing the newly exposed skin, running his tongue over your nipples, making you moan. You gasp as you feel teeth closing on one of your nipples before he starts sucking, you glance down at him, seeing his head buried in your chest, his other hand toying with your breast and the sight makes you cry out in pleasure again, this is all you’ve been waiting for years, and its finally happening. Eddie’s hand slips between you two and starts rubbing your pussy over the fabric of your underwear, he can feel your wetness soaking through and releases your nipple from his rough sucking to groan,

“Fuck. Did I make you this wet baby?” He hisses at you and you moan in a pitiful way as he doesn’t stop teasing,

“No, use your words, I want you to tell me that I made you this wet.” Trying desperately to keep control of your voice you answer in the most pathetic whine,

“You, Eddie, you made me wet. You always do.”

“Always?” Eddie raises an eyebrow at you as you realise what you’ve just told him. “Think about me a lot do we?” He’s found your clit and is slowly stroking it through the fabric of your panties, you pant and moan, praying he doesn’t want an answer,

“Kitten. I asked you a question.” He starts to slow down his stroking, letting you think and speak. The new nickname makes your pussy twitch, and you bite your lip.

“All the time.”

“When you’re with other guys?” Eddie kisses your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh and sucking, leaving an angry purple mark behind, marking you as his.

“All the time.” You repeat struggling to keep your moans under control as your best friend continues his relentless assault on your body. Eddie seems satisfied with this answer and pulls himself away, you almost cry out for him and seeing your face he smiles,

“Shh, hang on, I’m not going anywhere, just want to get more comfortable.” He starts undressing himself, leaving you still in your skirt and soaked panties. You cant help but gasp softly when you see the erection his jeans have been holding down. Eddie smirks when he notices your line of sight,

“See something you like?” You nod and get up to your knees, pulling the underwear that covers him down and wrapping a hand around him,

“This okay Eds?”

“More than okay.” You pump him in your hands, still marveling at the size of his cock, Eddie starts to buck softly in your hands as his tip leaks precum. You look up at him, smile sweetly and let him watch as you lap the precum up,

“Jesus christ, you have no idea how hot that looks.” Eddie is hissing under his breath, watching you, completely transfixed. Loving the dumbfounded look on his face you take the tip of his cock into your mouth and then sliding down further until your purple lipstick is staining the base of his cock. You clench your thumb in your fist, holding back your gag reflex, a trick you had heard about a few months ago. You had yet to practice it and were pleasantly surprised to learn it worked. Eddie’s cock started to twitch in your throat and you had to pull back, tears streaming from your eyes from the effort of not gagging. Barely waiting to catch your breath you took Eddie’s cock all the way to your throat again, Eddie was biting his fist, desperately trying to hold back howls of pleasure as you bob on his cock. Your jaw is aching and your face is covered in mascara stains from your watering eyes by the time Eddie is begging for you to let up.

Eddie falls back onto the sofa, cock twitching and panting heavily,

“Where did you learn that?“ He pants, struggling to catch his breath.

“You really want to talk about that right now?” You smirk as you use your fingers to wipe your tears away. Pussy absolutely dripping for him by this point.

“Good point, come here.” Eddie pats the sofa next to him, as soon as you sit he drops to the floor between your legs, pulling your skirt and panties down smoothly and placing a kiss to your pussy, before using his fingers to part your lips and lick a stripe from your tight hole to your clit, your thighs shake at the contact, you’re no virgin but no guy has ever gone down on you before, they’d make an excuse and skip straight over it, so the sensations Eddie is creating is entirely new to your body and you fucking love it. Eddie is buried in between your thighs, sucking on your clit as he teases you with a single finger, loving how your pussy clamps down on him, a vice grip that makes him almost cum all over the sofa without even being touched. You cry out and grab Eddie’s hair, pushing him closer, realizing you must be close Eddie begins to up his speed, sucking harsher, fingers curling against your g-spot faster until that knot in your stomach comes undone and you squirt against his face, another new sensation for you.

Eddie kisses your thighs as he comes away, face dripping with you and a devilish smile on his face,

“Oh, my kitten squirts?” He looks at your flushed face, “That’s never come up in conversations before. I know plenty about how many guys have made you cum, but no ones made you squirt before have they?” He taunts you playfully,

“N-no. No one.” You pull him up to you, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue, moaning when you do.

“Do you have any idea how fucking crazy I’ve been driven hearing about how many orgasms you’ve had that should have all been with me?” Eddie wraps a ringed hand around your throat and stares into your eyes, “I had to start fucking around so I wouldn’t go crazy with jealousy.” He’s rubbing his cock against your pussy, soaking himself in you, making you want to cry and beg and scream to be fucked, and he knows he’s making you this needy, you can see it in the smirk he’s wearing as he rubs harder.

“Eddie - please please fuck me.” You whisper, barely able to speak with the hands around your throat. Eddie lets go of your throat and pulls away slightly,

“I want to have more fun with you first, kitten. I want to know what else I can do to you that no one else has.” Eddie picks up a candle from the table and looks at you, your confused expression answering his question. “Does my kitten want to play some more before we fuck?” You’re torn, your pussy is clenching around literally nothing, desperate to be stuffed with Eddie’s cock but more playtime sounds equally fun, and you’re so curious to know what’s on Eddie’s mind,

“What are you planning to do with the candle?”

“I’m going to drip hot wax on you and get you even hotter.” He answers simply. You nod enthusiastically,

“Yes please.” He places the candle back down for a second, retrieving his bandana from his jeans and ties it comfortably around your eyes, then plants a kiss to your cheek before you feel him shift and grab the candle back from the table,

“Okay kitten, nice big breaths for me.” You obey and gasp as the first drops of wax hit your skin, burning for a few delicious seconds before it cools. Eddie chuckles at your reaction,

“That feel good?”

“So good,”

“Lucky for us it seems the Harringtons are kinky, these are special candles, they’re designed to be used for this.”

“Mm, remind me to write them a thank you note.” Eddie drips more wax onto your stomach, a line to your pussy beginning to take shape. As you brace for the next heat to be there you’re surprised when the slight burn is at your nipples,

“Gotta keep you on your toes.” Eddie responds to your surprise “Plus no way I could make a masterpiece out of a line, I’m more creative than that.” Your nerve endings are on fire as you’re so unsure of where on your body the wax will hit next, ever drip makes you moan for more, until the next drip you expect is instead a warm pair of lips on yours, hands removing the blindfold and rubbing your cheeks,

“Did you enjoy that?” Eddie asked as he rested his head on yours, you nodded, trying to kiss him but he pulled back, “Not until you admire the artwork.” He gestured down to your body which was coated in drips of wax, forming no particular pattern, but thanks to the colour made it look like you’d taken a huge cum shot.

“Eddie it looks like I’ve been rained on with cum,” You hiss at him as he smirks,

“That’s the point, kitten. That was the artistic vision.”

“How do we get this off?” Eddie produces a switchblade and grins at you, “Fine, just don’t cut me.”

“Never, kitten. Not unless you ask nicely.” He’s careful and quick, removing the wax with ease and you manage to remain unscathed throughout the procedure, once he’s done you realize you were holding your breath and finally let it out.

“Now, do you want to play more, or do you need me inside you, filling you up?”

“I’m done playing.” you wrap your legs around his waist and he slips his cock into you, its much bigger than you anticipate and you jerk at the slight pain, your breath catching again.

“Nuh-uh kitten, holding your breath will make it worse, take a big deep breath for me.” Eddie coaches you, taking the breath with you as he slides in further, he’s right, the breathing helps your muscles relax and allows him to bottom out inside you. You moan as you feel your body adjusting, pretty sure no one’s ever been as deep as Eddie is right now, Eddie seems to read your mind,

“What’s up kitten? Never had a cock this far in you before?” You shake your head and he looks so fucking pleased with himself as he pulls himself back, veins dragging against your soaked walls and make you cry out in pleasure. Eddie grabs your panties off the floor and holds them up to you,

“Kitten, if you can’t keep it down I’ll have to stuff these in that gorgeous mouth of yours. What’s it gonna be?” You consider being quiet, and decide that the way Eddie’s going you’ll be cockdrunk in minutes and have no control over what noises you’re producing, so you open your mouth and let Eddie stuff your panties in.

“Fuck you have no idea how fucking hot you are.” Eddie ups the pace, balls slapping against your ass as your pussy tightens around him, trying to stop him pulling all the way out. Your back arches up as you moan around the panties in your mouth, you’re so close to cumming around Eddie’s cock, your eyes are rolling back in your head and there’s drool from your mouth running down your chin, to Eddie you’ve never looked quite so beautiful as now. Eddie kisses your neck up to your ear,

“Cum for me kitten, let me feel that pussy milk me.” He slams in harder and faster, tipping you right over the edge and making you squirt around him, taking you both by surprise. Eddie is now soaked in you, you’ve covered his stomach and thighs, you can feel it as he keeps slamming into you,

“Kitten, I’m getting very very close, can I finish inside you? Please?” Eddie whines in your ear, he knew that no one had ever been allowed to do that to you either, you spit the panties out of your mouth to be able to whisper in his ear,

“Eds, cum in me, please. This pussy’s never had cum in it before, I need it filled.” You whine and moan as you speak, Eddie relentlessly chasing his release, with a few more thrusts he’s finishing inside you, you moan at the sensation inside you, hot thick cum flooding your soaked pussy. Eddie pulls out and swears when he sees his cum leaking out of you onto the sofa,

“Oops?” He laughs as he rests his head on your chest, waiting for his heartbeat to settle.

“Eddie?”

“Mmm, yes kitten?”

“You’re all mine.”

“Yes I am kitten, I have been for a long time.” Eddie looks up at you, so much love in those brown eyes that you feel you could melt. “Now, as much as I am loving this very sweet moment with my new girlfriend, I think we need to clean you up, clean me up and possibly buy Steve’s parents a new sofa.”

You laugh and feel more mess get forced out of you by the motion,

“Christ you look like a fucking goddess right now, but no more laughing, lets get you to the bathroom.” Eddie scoops you up and carries you into the small shower room, climbing in with you for “support, honest. what do you take me for?”.

#eddie munson #eddie fucking munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #munson-trashcan #stranger things smut #eddie smut

[myers-meadow]

An orange and a knife (Halsin x Tav)

Title: An orange and a knife

Pairing: Halsin x (named) Tav

Summary: You share an orange together. Twice. Or: Your adoration of Halsin grows by the day, but acceptance of those feelings is a whole different beast entirely. One night, they burst to the surface, and you can hide them no longer. Maybe you won't have to.

Warnings: none, all ages; pining, yearning, complicated feelings, happy end. First person pov. An exploration of emotions and how I wouldn't be able to take living close to Halsin as I'd just implode from adoration.

Wordcount: 1459

Please reblog or comment if you enjoyed! Have fun reading! <3 Dividers by@saradika-graphics.

I sank down on the log by the fire, plate and knife in one hand, a big orange in the other. Gale had it left over from somewhere and I gladly took it off his hands. Most of the companions had already retired to their tents, to read, to meditate, to sort out food for the next morning and the journey ahead. Karlach and Halsin were left, wrapped in conversation and I sat my ass down next to Halsin, who immediately scooted over once he spotted me coming. 

"Ay girl, did you borrow that dagger from Astarion?" Karlach joked, pointing to the overly large knife in my hand. They all knew I wasn't a fighter, and I didn't tend to carry weapons, so her guess wasn't a bad one.

"No, actually," I said, going along with the joke. "Wyll lent it to me."

She and Halsin laughed. I laid the plate down on my lap, holding the orange as i sliced off the ends. Halsin leaned back, turning towards me, to allow me to join conversation. Before I came, they'd been discussing Karlach's new ability to touch people, and from the looks of things, they got along swimmingly. My heart swelled at Karlach's joy as Dammon installed the new part earlier that day. Absentmindedly, I cut the orange in thick slices, then cut them in the lenght to eat from the rind.

"You want some?" I held out the plate to them both, leaning against Halsin's arm to reach Karlach, fingers dripping with juice.

"Thanks, soldier!"

Halsin laughed, in that way he sometimes did, somewhat quietly, when he had a joke to himself, or was just too polite to say what was on his mind, but he took a piece anyway. I didn't comment on it, too busy with my first piece, having looked forward to the orange as dessert ever since Gale mentioned the fruit in the morning, hoping no one else got their hands on it before me, fingers sticky, teeth digging in the soft, stringy flesh, sweetness filling my mouth. Moments like these were what kept me sane throughout all this. I realised I was sucking away on my third slice, before coming to my senses and passing the plate along again.

"Have more, please." My cheeks grew hot, hoping I hadn't ruined the romantic tension between them. "Please don't mind me."

Halsin sucked off his fingers and I tried not to look at it for too long, afraid my hunger would show - just as these two were getting along so well. "We were talking about what Karlach wants to do now that she can touch others again."

"And all thanks to you!" she beamed, reaching over for another slice.

"Dammon is a treasure," I said and handed the last piece to Halsin, moving to stand again to clean the plate and knife. "It's getting late, I'll leave you two to it, goodnight, loves! Have fun!"

The next night, Halsin tended to my wounds before I could seek out Shadowheart. Gale was cooking something delicious-smelling back at the heart of camp, and most retreated to do their own thing before dinner. We sat at Halsin's tent at the edge of the light. It was a relief to be back around him, surrounded by his warmth, his smell, the herbs he dries in his tent, the small pots of salves and potions he keeps on hand.

"Let me come with you, tomorrow," he said, voice soft, the healing spell sizzling out, the last of the blue glow fading. "You've been taking hits like you're Karlach, but you're a spellcaster. You should stay back more, like Astarion."

"I try, I just always happen to be-" a gasp left my lips as Halsin rubbed the bruise on my leg with a warm hand, to see if he was done yet, "right there in the middle of it."

He slid my skirt up to see how bad it was, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake, but not from cold. He dipped his fingers in one of his healing salves. "The cultists really don't like you much."

I covered his hand with mine. "I'd be glad to have you by my side tomorrow."

After a particularly rough day of adventuring later that week, my dear companions elected to have me stay at camp. Karlach was overjoyed to join Wyll, Shadowheart and Astarion anyway, so it was a win-win for many. Camp was rather quiet. The hours passed agonisingly slowly, especially as most companions seemed to have their own routines, and no need for company. Sometime before midday I found myself by Halsin's tent. He went out the day before to forage for herbs, and was hanging it all to dry, tying them into bundles with lenghts of string. Movements practiced, it was hypnotising to watch him. Large hands that still had such nimble fingers.

"Did you come here just to stare at me?" His voice startled me. From the way he eyed me, it felt like he was aware of my amorous intentions.

I hummed. "I've never spent the entire day at camp before."

"That doesn't answer my question." His tone was light.

"I'd like to stare, if you'll allow me," I said, eventually. He smiled. His hazel eyes glowed. 

"You're welcome to stay, as long as you have desire for my company."

So I stayed, enjoying the easy conversation, the sun on my face, and fell deeper and deeper in love with him.

No matter how much I tried resisting my feelings, every time I caught a glance of Halsin across camp, a terrible wave of adoration washed over me. The amount of times that Gale got upset when my attention slipped was more than I'd like to admit. With the adoration, came the jealousy. It was foreign to me before, but when Karlach would nestle close to Halsin, the pangs of it were heavy in my stomach.

One night, Halsin sank down next to me, orange and knife in hand, my heart leapt at the sight of him.

"Here, you like oranges, right?"

"You remembered."

"And I remember how terribly awkward you cut it. Here, let me show you an easier way." Halsin angled towards me so much that our knees were touching, and I could see only him, the rest of camp reduced to vague shapes in the dark, the fire behind him illuminating his hair, laying harsh shadows on his face. Beauty. He laughed softly in much the same way as back then, when we shared the orange for the first time. "It'd help if you'd actually pay attention to what I'm doing."

I hummed, but did as he said. Instead of cutting slices, he divided the whole orange into parts, to eat from the rind in a much more effective manner. The knife dripped with juice when he wasn't even halfway done. I ate as he cut, as he didn't bring a plate to put them on. With sweetened lips, I thanked him. "You're right, this makes a lot of sense. Thank you."

He smiled warmly and I almost had to avoid his eyes with the overwhelm of emotion. "Gladly. Frankly, I've never seen anyone cut fruit that clumsily."

I laughed. "Well, I just love to surprise people."

We shared the rest of the orange, in this comfortable bubble of this shared experience. As I was done with my pieces, and Halsin took his last bite before discarding the peel, the juice glistening in the firelight - in an impulse I reached up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Immediately, regret drowned out all other thoughts.

"Fuck, Halsin, I'm sorry-"

Seeing my panicked expression, and not caring for how sticky his hands were, he cupped my cheek and kissed me fervently. The sweet citrus mixed with the tobacco he smoked earlier that evening, warm, heady, delicious. Tingles set me alight as though hit by a lightning arrow. In the distance, somewhere, Karlach cheered, and the others didn't remain silent either. It didn't really process - there was only the sensation of his lips against mine, lingering even after he pulled back. Halsin rested his forehead against mine. Somehow my fist was balled into his shirt, and I let go slowly, smoothing out the fabric.

"You've no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he breathed, his voice quiet and heavy with emotion.

"Since the moment-" I swallowed thickly, refusing to look at him still, "we met, amidst the goblin guts."

A laugh rumbled from his chest. He pulled me into him for the best hug of my life and happily I sank into him, heart fluttering lighter than ever before. "Then we have a lot to catch up on."

#halsin #halsin silverbough #halsin x tav #balders gate 3 #halsin baldur's gate 3 #halsin x reader #halsin bg3 #bg3 halsin #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #halsin silverbough x tav #tav #meadow's writing

[8myass]

.. all your fault .. pairing. park jisung x female reader genre. angst pov. second person (you, yours, yourself, etc.) (‘y/n’ usage) synopsis. jisung simply wants you to love him. wc. 0.5k cw. yandere!jisung tw. pocket knife, threatening, mentions choking, cursing, mentions death of side characters, gaslighting, pining, victim blaming, delusional ji, pet name (‘darling’), cutting, slapping, name calling (‘bitch’), degradation, blood

“Why can’t you just love me?!” he screamed, forcing the blade of the pocket knife he had in his grip against your already sore throat. He had his hands around your throat just a bit before this incident. You were panicking, sobbing incoherent pleas for him to let you go. You weren’t getting through to him; this was his decision, and it looked like you weren’t going anywhere because of that.

“I-I just want you to love me!” he exclaimed, throwing the knife across the room as his voice echoed through the thin, blood-splattered and dirtied walls of his once peaceful bedroom. You flinched at the sound of the metal of the knife puncturing a hole in the wall, paint flying off in thick shards.

“Is that so fucking hard to ask of you, bitch?!” he yelled, bringing the palm of his hand roughly against your cheek. You wailed out as you fell to the ground, cupping your flushed red cheek with your own hand, bruised knuckles on display for him.

“Yes,” you spat, completely hating everything he was in this instant, “It is way too hard to love a monster like you.”

With your words, he lowly chuckled, bending down to grab a fistful of your hair, jerking your face toward him so he could hiss, “You’re calling me a monster? You know what’s monstrous? The fact you have seen me pine over you for years and you just fucking led me on, not knowing the things it did to me. You broke my heart, you broke me, Y/n. It’s all your fault that you're here in this position right now, it’s all your fault that those people are dead. You killed them with your incessant need to keep me wrapped around your dirty little fingers.”

“Fuck you,” you growled, punching at his chest as a means to get him to let go of you. 

He laughed again, shoving you back down to the floor, standing up to scoff down at your form as you scrambled away from him, “You’re no longer anything like the woman I fell in love with. Why is it so hard for you to cooperate with me?”

“You’re fucking delusional,” you snapped, shaking your head as you buried your face into your exposed knees, bringing them up to your chest to cover the number of tears continuing to fall down your face. “I’ve never been so disgusted with someone in my life.”

“You’re so cute and funny,” he smiled, picking up the knife and tracing his finger along the sharpness of the blade, humming to himself as he took a few steps toward you, lowering his body until he was level with you. He placed his knife against the rough skin of your knee, pressing just enough for it to cut into the flesh, a cry coming from your pained form as you moved your head to lock eyes with him, blood trickling down your shin from your sliced open knee. “You will be even more fun to break, just as you broke me, I promise you, darling. We’ll have so much fun together.”

#[ lele writes 🐝 ] #nct fanfic #nct fic #nct imagines #nct u #nct #nct 2023 #nct angst #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct x reader #nct jisung #park jisung #park jisung x reader #jisung x reader #jisung nct #jisung

[gxbbyhoneybadger]

The Jade Viper #2

Pairing: John Wick x !F!Reader

Summary: Loyalty goes far for Y/n, she proves over and over again to John that she'll do anything for him and his honor. Even rescuing him from a kidnapping; she's always going to be right behind him through thick and thin. But John begins to catch feelings for his loyal ninja assassin.

Warnings: adult language, blood, guns, beatings, wounds, torture, abuse, character past history, child death, nightmare, sexual tension, mutual pining, flirting, fluff.

Minors DNI 🔞

Part I, Part III

--

John could taste the copper inside his mouth, his sides aching from the growing bruises. His hands being cut into by zip ties around the arms of the chair; two men standing close by as the leader cleaned his knuckles of blood with a rag. He started to speak about how great John was supposed to be, but the leader just grew more agitated.

"You are no Bogeyman, the Baba Yaga I've once heard of is nothing but a weak man." He growled, he pulled back his fist to punch John once more. "Speak your last words, Mr. Wick." John grunted as he clenched his fists.

"Have you ever heard of the Jade Viper?" asked John as he closed his eyes to take in a heavy breath. The leader held back his laugh as he let John's tie go, "Are you really trying to spook me with a fake story to avoid your death?" He chuckled. John shook his head as he looked at the man again.

"It's real. . . I've seen it, I've seen her." John then snapped his fingers; the man rolled his eyes and attempted to grab John's throat, only to suddenly choke—John saw the silver thin yet long needle pierce through the leader's neck—sending him into a paralyzed state and collapsing onto the ground. John heard the two men in a scuffle behind him—a bone was heard being snapped as one of them was thrown beside John before being quickly dragged backwards into the shadows and one of them screamed with agony until a sound of a knife being pierced through someone's body was heard.

John listened to the clicking heels coming towards him, gentle hands being placed atop his wrist as her kunai sliced through the zip tie. "Y'know, when you said you'd find the Blood Dragons yourself, I didn't think you'd let them catch you in a way." Y/n sighed, "It pained me seeing them hurt you. I'm glad I knocked the main one out for now."

John winced as he rubbed his wrists to get the blood flowing to his fingers. He looked at the dead man's body as she picked up a clean rag—tilting his face to look at her while she gently cleaned around his bruises and cuts on his cheek and head. "He's dead." He commented.

"Awh, John, you doubt me so much. He isn't dead. Not yet anyways. These are metal needles with a point at both ends. . . They're often used for medical purposes in my clan, being used to strike acupuncture points. Anyone with great proper medical knowledge can effectively use these in battle to incapacitate or even kill their target should you aim for vital spots. I aimed to incapacitate him." She smirked, "He's just asleep for now."

"You know a lot of techniques." He said, "How were you able to learn all of this?" That made her grow a smile on her face as she let go of his head. "I'll tell you once we get out of here." The incapacitated man was stuffed into the trunk, hands and feet were tied. Y/n was driving and John was resting in his seat as Bones jumped into the backseat, "Good girl." She cooed while tossing her pet a treat.

She had started to drive and watch the view of lights being blurred by the raindrops. John sighed as he relaxed, "So. . . are you going to tell me?" Y/n nodded with a grin. Her fingers lightly drumming on the steering wheel.

"You already know that I'm not just an assassin, but, also a ninja, John. Something you'd hear in one of those dumb movies. But it's true. Even I want to laugh at it myself. When I was born, the Grandmaster took his pick of the litter. Each son and daughter in his clan wasn't there by choice, only by force. I was chosen by him and dragged into his training. I remember how ruthless his training was, he trained us in many ways. Those scars you saw my chest, my legs, the bottoms of my feet were all from him." She said.

John was listening while he watched her, her eyes glistening with pain as she remembered her childhood. "He beat the martial arts into us, branded it in our brains, burned it into our bodies, and carved it into our souls. To test who truly were the strongest out of the weakest, he'd match us against each other. A fight to the death. I remember beating one of my sister's, his eyes were on me and I knew what I had to do to prove that I was worthy to keep living. . . So I broke her neck."

John's eyes grew wide with sorrow and shock as he looked at her. "Her death was quick, and full of mercy. I released her from years of torment, John. I didn't want to, but I had to. We had these death tournaments once a year until we turned eighteen, the year we mastered everything. When I was twelve, he had me wear blindfold for an entire year. He said that we must fight no matter what, even without our gift of sight." John saw her hands beginning to tremble as she pulled into his garage.

"What he told us during our punishment has always stuck in my mind. . . Pain breeds weakness. Suffering exists because weakness exists." She muttered, "I had to practice to walk and run in silence. If I made a noise, he strike my feet with a bamboo rod, that's why I have permanent scars on them. . . I have scars on my body from his punishments. You must understand, John, I now do this to protect you. You only. You gave me a chance to change, and I plan to only use my skills to do whatever it takes to protect you."

John felt his heart break at her promise. He'd gone through his own training to become an assassin, it was cruel, and it was painful. But hearing just a tiny tale from her own experience sounded like hell compared to his own. He found her hand and held it in his own, her head slowly turned to look at their connection as John glanced at her.

"I'm sorry for what you've gone through, Y/n." She shook her head and placed her other hand on top his. "Don't be sorry for me, John. . ." Her eyes flickered to his and remained there for a minute. Time seemed to have slowed down, both their hands grew warmer. She shut her eyes and shook her head lightly before releasing her hand from his.

"Let's head inside, I need to take care of your wounds." With that, she exited the car and helped John inside of the house. Once settled in, she removed his shirt and coat. Seeing the bruises and scars on his body, it made her smile warmly before she attended to his cuts. "Why are you smiling?" John questioned, he heard her giggle to herself as she shook her head.

"It's just funny to see you injured like this, I've seen worse but, it's just funny when it's you." He grunted feeling the rubbing alcohol brush against his open cut, "Does it hurt?" "Not as bad as before." He replied. Y/n finished her work and handed him a glass of water, "Is he still alive?" John questioned. "He's settled in the garage for now. I'll move him to the basement after-"

"Not him. . . Your Grandmaster." John corrected. Y/n paused while washing her hands—she turned off the water and turned to look at John who was sitting on the couch. "John. . . Why do you want to know?" She asked.

"Just tell me." He said, a sigh left her as she walked back to the couch to sit down beside him. "I don't know anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I escaped. . . I left my clan, attacked the Grandmaster, and they've been after me ever since." Y/n said, "When you asked me where I lived, I said nowhere. . . Because I'm always running from them, I kill threats to keep them distracted."

"Your siblings?" John asked.

"The ones who still remain by his side. . . But, now with you. I get to stop running, now I have a purpose to stay where I am and fight for something that matters. The Grandmaster told us that we are his blood, no more than that. "Wherever you are, wherever you may. go, you must never forget who you are. You are part of me, as I am part of you. This is the truth of your lives, and it will remain true after death." Weakness compels strength. Betrayal begets blood. This is the law of the Seven Clans. . ." Y/n lifted her head and looked at John with guilty eyes.

Her foot lightly tapping on the ground as she spoke, "I betrayed my clan, scarred the Grandmaster's face so bad, I believe he lost an eye. . . It's been years since I've last saw him, but I've seen many of my siblings come and go." John saw the tears beginning to grow in her eyes as she looked down. "You took a shower when you first got here. . . Who's blood was it?" John inquired.

". . . One of my brothers, we seemed to have crossed paths when we were hunting you down for fun. . . I just overwhelmed him and got the upper hand."

"Why am I such a big target?"

"Come on, the Bogeyman? Sounds like a scary name, scary name equals scary threat." She smirked. John couldn't help but grin at her words, Y/n laid back on the couch and stretched her arms and legs. "How far does your loyalty go?"

Y/n smiled again as she sighed, "As far as it needs to go, John. You go anywhere, I'll be there making sure you're safe. Unless you need privacy with a lady." She answered—standing up and beginning to walk to the garage. "I'm gonna fetch our friend in the car, I'll have him tied and prepared for your questioning."

He nodded his head and Y/n disappeared into the garage. John gently traced the back of his hand with his other, Bubba approached and rested his head on his thigh. "I don't know what I'm thinking. . ." He muttered to his dog.

Later at night, after dealing with the leader's body and interrogation—John had dinner with Y/n, she cooked spaghetti, garlic bread, and made a fresh salad for them to eat; John took a shower and gotten dressed for bed. He got in bed and Bubba was in his dog bed with Bones in the living room, Y/n was elsewhere.

John didn't know where she had went, but he knew she was close by. He fell asleep and started to drift off into his dreams—when he did, he expected to see Daisy, or his wife, anything but woman wearing a large sunhat. She was kneeling by a row of potted flowers, she wore gloves and a beautiful green and white flower dress, her hair blew with elegance in the wind while the sun shined on her.

John felt his heart pick up speed when she turned to smile at him, Y/n was smiling at him. Her eyes were bright and innocent, full of life and glee; three puppies tumbled over her feet, Bubba and Bones both sniffing them and pushing them onwards. Y/n slid off her gloves and giggled as she lifted the large sunhat to peek at whoever was behind him. John froze when he heard, "Daddy!"

A child's voice piped up with happiness, John looked behind him to see a young girl with short black hair, similar to his own. Her eyes full of adoration for him as she smiled, she held his hand and dragged him forward towards Y/n. It was only then that had John saw Y/n's body. Her dress perfectly brought out her baby bump: she was pregnant. Beautiful, and pregnant?!

John then saw his entire fantasy become a nightmare when thunder had struck, lighting had blinded him for only a minute. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw blood everywhere. Bubba and Bones were gone, the little girl was gone, Y/n wasn't. She was there. . .

Only. . . She was standing in a pool of blood, and the little girl lying right beside her feet. Bleeding out with empty eyes. Y/n's face and hands coated with blood, behind her, shadows began to emerge from the depths of the garden. Carrying katanas, blades, and even the heads of John's old enemies.

Y/n lifted her face and stared at John with an empty expression. As if she wasn't there anymore, just a shell of her remained. The shadows then leapt at John and he had woken up in a cold sweat. His heart thumping harder and faster than ever before, he looked at his window to see the night sky still there.

He lifted his hand and held his head to calm himself down, taking in slow and deep breaths. "John?" Y/n whispered from somewhere in the room, he looked around in the dark and looked towards the closed door.

"Y/n?" He mumbled—the floor slightly creaked and he looked to the left side of the room, the corner that was filled with nothing but shadows—Y/n slowly emerged from the darkness with a concerned look on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asked with a soft voice. He leaned against the headboard and sighed. ". . . Where you here the entire time?" He wondered. She let out a halfhearted giggle as she sat on the edge of his bed.

"No, I wasn't actually. I heard you shuffling around in here, I thought you were being attacked at first so I came in. . . Then I saw that you were being attacked by yourself. . . And I wasn't sure to wake you up or not, until you did five seconds later." She explained, "Are you okay?"

He nodded his head and glanced at the clock instead of Y/n, still unsure of what his dream had really meant. His eyes found her again as she stood up and walked to the door, "I'll be out here." She added. "Don't you sleep?" said John. "Not until you have proper rest, once you're taken care of and healed up, only then can I sleep."

With that, she shut the door and left John alone. He ran his fingers through his raven locks as he rethought of the dream again. Why did he think of that? Better yet, why was she pregnant? Why was that little girl there? . . . Why was Y/n covered in all that blood? . . .

John could only wonder as he laid back in his bed, feeling cold and unsure but most definitely, alone. As if he somewhat wanted Y/n to stay in the same room with him, but also didn't. What was this feeling he was sensing? He could only shut his eyes and sleep on it.

From afar, outside hidden within the trees—watching as Y/n walked down the stairs and freeze in place as she felt a pair of eyes piercing at her. She snapped her eyes towards the shadows of the forest, seeing nothing there but a squirrel scurry up the tree. She clenched her fists as she smelled the pine trees.

"Run, run, little sister." whispered the shadow from the darkness.

_____________________________________

Pt. 3 is coming soon!!

#slow burn #smutwarning #john wick smut #john wick #keanu fan #keanu x reader #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you

[thepepsislvt]

RRRRRROBERRT

can i get some law x ftm reader w mutual pining where they’re both too bad at feelings to actually approach each other with anything, but the whole crew is like “…y’all are boning, right?” BC ITS SO OBVIOUS TO EVERYONE BUT THEM 😭

yes you can my good sir

Law X Reader (no pronouns mentioned)

Mutual pinning!

Warnings: overwhelming fluff, shachi, penguin

word count: 803

The entire crew knew that Law and Y/n both liked each other. It was painfully obvious. Right?

Well apparently not because Y/n and Law did not know of each other feelings. They thought they were just friends with absolutely no feelings. I mean it was hard to tell with Law since he hated being around people.

Right?

Well, Shachi and Penguin seem to think otherwise. They always seem to think they’re always right. Even when you know they’re wrong. You were hoping they were right about this one. And you were also hoping that the two would stop asking if “y’all were boning”

Every day you fall deeper in love with him. The way he talks and stands. Every small glance he gives you makes you feel like your heart is about to jump out of your chest. Everything about him was just perfect. you just wish you had the words to tell him how much he meant to you. Little did you know that Law was thinking the same thing about you.

Tonight was an exhausting one, the entire crew had just helped the Straw Hats on Punk Hazard, and now everyone was trying to relax. Most everyone had fallen asleep except for You, Bepo, and your Captain. You and Law were sitting across from each other not saying a word. As the silence began to grow you started to overthink your entire relationship with your captain. ‘Did you hate him?

Or was it just because you were stubborn and weren't as open as you were to him as the rest of the crew?’

As you continued to think about everything you looked up at his face without even realizing you were

‘What was there to hate about him anyway? Sure he was quiet and cold but what if you got him to break out of his shell a bit? Maybe you could see how he was behind his cold yellow eyes… and his fluffy black hair… his hair did look soft. I wonder what it would feel like to run your hand through it. Would he enjoy it? would he hate it? maybe relax into your touch? maybe lead to something slightly less innocent?’

As you were lost in your thoughts you didn't realize that your captain had called your name and you surely didn't realize it when he moved closer to you until he placed a hand on your shoulder. You quickly snapped out of your trance and looked to see that your captain was right in front of you, looking into your eyes. You couldn't help but become flustered by his closeness.

“You alright?” He asked in a voice that sounded monotone as usual but you could hear the genuine sincerity and concern behind it.

Without thinking you shrug his hand off your shoulder to try and keep up your tough act even though a part of you broke when you feel his hand leave. You mentally curse yourself for that.

“I'm fine” you say quietly, turning your head away from him so he doesn't see the blush on your face

You felt him move to sit next to you. Nothing was said between the two of you for what felt like hours before you decided to move closer to him, closing the space between the two of you. with your head being turned away from him still you missed the confused look he gave you. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a dull knife.

“You know you can talk to me right?” Law said, finally breaking the awkward silence. You finally turned back to look at him. “Contrary to what you think, I care about you like the rest of my cr-”

He was cut off abruptly by the feeling of your lips on his. As soon as your lips met you quickly realized what you were doing and moved away from him quickly. You put your face in your hands, mumbling apologies. Law just rolled his eyes and kissed the top of your head. He grabbed one of your hands away from your face and interlaced it with his.

“About time you did something, Bepo was going insane” he said quietly to you. You chuckled a bit at the thought of Bepo pulling his fur out over the two of you. “It may take time but we will work on us together”

With that you laid your head on his shoulder, finally embracing him like you wanted to for so long. The two of you close your eyes and take in each other's presence without noticing the presence of a certain polar bear who is trying to keep quiet to not ruin the peace between you two. You can finally rest peacefully.

#x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #no y/n #gender neutral reader #one piece x gn reader

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Head Full of Ghosts: Chapter 3

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 and explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge, as well as the friendships and relationships she has with her companions. Plus, everyone gives shit to Gale about his cooking. Tags: Slow Burn, Angst, Pining, Humor, Violence, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Developing Romance, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature (Will eventually be Explicit, just not there yet.) Current Chapter Count: 3/? Read on AO3 Current Word Count: 13,050

Author Notes: I'm finishing up the fourth chapter and realized I never uploaded this chapter to Tumblr. So here we are! Getting this fic back on track and should have the next chapter up soon.

Chapter 3: Monsters

“You know she is a hag, yes?” Lae’zel’s severe and even voice cut through the sticky swamp air like a hot knife through a wedge of Durinbold cheese. 

The bog was a foul place, both in atmosphere and in smell. The air was thick with humidity and an ever-present smell of wet rot. Trees sagged and bent at jagged angles, their tired limbs wilting in the gloom, and a thin fog seemed to permeate every corner of the swamp. A hazy light filtered through the tree canopy, casting blotchy shadows upon the muddy ground. 

The path the four companions were following sank into marsh every several yards, forcing the group to pick their way through mire and muck. The slog was slow, and there was much complaining. Especially from one particular high elf who no one had told not to wear freshly polished leather boots. 

“I am like…seventy percent sure she is a hag, yeah,” Eli answered as she carefully stepped over a rotted tree limb, half submerged in murky filth. “I mean, she’s entirely too eccentric to just be a normal human, right?” 

She looked over to Astarion for support, who was currently trying to rub some manner of sludge off his doublet.

“She certainly isn’t playing Three-Dragon Ante with a full deck, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Astarion replied coolly before throwing up his hands and huffing in irritation, the stain unyielding.

Lae’zel hummed for a moment, considering. “Gale is eccentric and a normal human, is he not?” she questioned, amber eyes fixing on their resident wizard who, at the moment, was trying to free the hem of his robe from the clawing grasp of a gnarled tree root.   

Eli sighed. “Gale has a magic bomb capable of leveling entire cities in his chest. I would not call that normal.”

“You wound me, Eli.” Gale responded in a good-natured tone as he tugged his robe free and the group began moving once more.

“You consumed an enchanted bracer yesterday at breakfast,” Eli quipped, recalling the morning fondly. Karlach had been fascinated, quickly trying to get Gale to absorb several other items from their camp hoard and asking him if he “took on their powers,” as she put it. 

Eli chuckled at the memory before concluding, “You’re as deranged as the rest of us and it’s not up for debate.”

Their little group really had become a hodgepodge of oddities over the past few days. Karlach was settling in well, because where else would she fit other than with their traveling sideshow which included a vampire who could walk in the sun, a warlock who was recently transformed into a part-devil by his patron, an amnesiac with the compulsion to murder anything that looked at her crossly, and all the rest of them. 

Eli was starting to wonder if she had a penchant for picking up emotionally constipated strays. They were all kind of outcasts in some way or another. People just trying to get along in a world that had kicked them in the teeth and tossed them out with the garbage. She still had no idea why they’d all just sort of accepted her as their group’s figurehead, but she was beginning to feel a certain affinity for their gang of misfits. They were all fighting battles both within and without, and Eli couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship with people who were struggling with their own personal demons, just as she was.

At least as the day wore on her constant headache had faded to a dull throb, rather than the brain splitting white-hot pain she’d been experiencing. Her memories were still lost, and whenever she tried to call upon them she was only met with flashes of red violence. Images of mangled bodies, ruptured limbs, stringy viscera…it all melted and jumbled together in a confusing blur of chaos. Her dreams were no better, and her nighttime raids on the camp’s supply of books and wine were no secret among the party. Both Shadowheart and Karlach had even joined her on separate occasions. Hells, she’d have a proper book club up and running soon.

“So,” Lae’zel’s stern voice brought Eli out of her musings. “You trust this hag?”

“No,” Eli nearly spat the word out in a laugh. Auntie Ethel, as she called herself, was a lot of things, and trustworthy was not one of them. Astarion’s assessment of Ethel as ‘positively demented’ was accurate, and hags were not known as an honest sort.

“Good,” said Lae’zel, slightly drawing out the word in approval. “Lest I remind you that the only way to remove a ghaik tadpole is a Zaith'isk.”

Eli could feel the gith’s eyes on her and she did her best not to bristle under what she was sure was a judgmental stare. “I am aware,” Eli said, trying to sound unfazed and relatively certain she was failing miserably.

Lae’zel continued to press. “And a Zaith'isk can only be found at a gith creche.” She laid emphasis on the last two words, as if she were pointing something obvious out to a very dimwitted child.

Eli felt the back of her neck and ears start to go warm as irritation stirred in her chest and tightened her shoulders. The throbbing headache at the back of her skull began to growl. 

“You don’t say…” Eli replied, quietly pleading to whatever deity she couldn’t remember worshipping to please just let her have the rest of the day without feeling like her brain was on fire. 

“I just did say.” Lae’zel shot back, drawing a sidelong glare from Eli.

Eli liked Lae’zel. For the most part. When she wasn’t threatening tiefling refugees or complaining about the lack of spice in Gale’s cooking. Though, to her credit, Gale’s food was kind of bland. 

The gith fighter was blunt, stubborn, opinionated, fierce and one hell of a talent when it came to steel and blade. Eli appreciated Lae’zel’s steadfast loyalty and belief in her people’s culture, and even felt a slight pang of jealousy for it. It grounded the warrior and gave her a perspective from which to view the world, something Eli did not have. Culture, family, heritage…they were the building blocks of a person. Even if a person rejected or outgrew those foundational aspects of themselves, they still provided guiderails – or at the very least an anchor for one’s identity. 

Without those things, Eli felt adrift and directionless in a vast and swirling ocean, constantly beaten upon the rocks before being dragged back down to drown.  

“Explain to me why we are seeking this hag who you do not trust and who cannot remove the tadpole,” Lae’zel said, driving at a point Eli knew was coming and one she wasn’t sure she had a decent argument against. “Instead, should we not be pursuing a more productive course of action?”

Eli sighed, rubbing at her temples as her headache began to mount. “I’m curious,” she responded rather lamely. 

“I see,” Lae’zel said with a tone that indicated the gith was wholly unimpressed by Eli’s reasoning. “So, the situation at Emerald Grove continues to escalate, goblins continue to terrorize the Sword Coast, the druid healer remains missing, and the tadpoles in our brains remain unremoved.” Eli internally cringed at the chiding way in which Lae’zel spoke. “But, let us humor your curiosity. What is the worst that could happen?”

The question hung in the air uneasily. The worst that could happen was…really fucking bad. Everyone could die. Eli and her merry band of misfits could all turn into mind flayers. The Grove could fall under the absolute rule of a tyrant and racist. And the Sword Coast could get fully and aggressively fucked. Why was this all her problem, again?

“Lae’zel, was that sarcasm I just heard?” Astarion chimed in, and Eli felt a pull of appreciation towards him. He probably hadn’t meant to run interference between Eli and her interrogator, but she was thankful for it all the same. 

Truth be told, there was a small part of her that hoped Auntie Ethel did have a solution for their tadpole troubles. While they weren’t the most honorable of sorts, hags were rather enterprising and shrewd. And given the nature of their unconventional problem, an unconventional solution would more than likely be required. Besides, if things went south, they could just kill her. That seemed to be a particular specialty of their group. 

“Sarcasm often accompanies truth,” Lae’zel said with a pointed tone. 

Astarion chuckled lightly and Eli felt something not unlike faint affection flutter in her chest. She very quickly shoved it down into the black hole within herself where all the things she didn’t want to deal with went. Nope. That wasn’t good. That was the very last thing she needed right now. 

It had been happening more and more since the night she’d made a complete fool of herself, drunkenly asking him if they were still friends. Still friends. Gods, she was such a loser, and Astarion surely thought she was a total basket case after that encounter. But, every now and then, he’d give her a smirk or say something that caused a laugh to bubble up, and then that weird and endearing feeling would creep up and holy shit was this not the time or the place! Besides, that man had more red flags than a circus, and it wasn’t like Eli was a bastion of sanity, so together they’d be about as functional as wet hot garbage. 

“How profound,” Astarion continued, oblivious to Eli’s distressing mental spiral. “This little jaunt in the swamp does seem to be a rather unhygienic deviation from more pressing concerns.” 

The appreciation she’d felt for him earlier poofed away, and Eli glared. “I will turn this whole party around if you all don’t stop your complaining!”

Astarion’s eyes lit up with delight. “Oh, please do! I worry the putrid scent of squalor and anguish is never coming out of my clothes.” He ran his hands down his doublet, trying to smooth out some wrinkles, and sighed in an overdramatic fashion.

“I, for one, am looking forward to seeing Ethel again,” Gale chimed in as they continued to trod down the muddy path. All of them would be washing muck off their clothes for days. “Fey and the like often have access to magic that even a wizard of my caliber cannot wield. This deviation - as you put it, Astarion - could prove very advantageous if we play our cards right.”

Eli resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder at Astarion, who had surely just rolled his eyes so hard he could see up into his own skull. She could practically feel the disdain radiating off of him and pointedly kept her eyes ahead, scanning the dreary bogland for any sign that they may be nearing Auntie Ethel’s dwelling.

It took Astarion all but two seconds to quip back at the wizard. “Gale, your opinion is like the filth on my boots. Unwanted and irritating,” he said with all the cheer of a muddy wet cat as he paused to kick some grime off the bottom of one of said boots.

“It is a wonder any of you have survived this long,” Lae’zel said, glowering at Astarion as he continued to preen. 

“We are a rather astonishing group, aren’t we?” Eli asked with a small smirk, glancing back at the gith.

Lae’zel just rolled her eyes.

Eli was glad for the banter, as it provided some distraction from the pulsating headache growing behind her eyes. However, as they rounded a bend in the path where the trail began to climb upwards towards the interior of the bog, snaking away from the swampy shoreline, Eli was struck with a surging agony that flashed white hot throughout her head. She doubled over, the heel of her hand pressing into the ridge of her brow as a hiss escaped from behind her clenched teeth. Her stomach churned angrily, a hunger rising from deep within that neither food nor drink would satiate. Her head felt as if it were shattering into fragments, her conscious self being pulled apart at the seams as something else tried to push its way to the surface. Something feral, and frenzied and starved.

From somewhere behind her, Eli thought she heard Gale muttering a question. She then felt a hand on her shoulder and wanted nothing more in the world than to seize it and dig her nails into the supple flesh. She wanted to smell the crisp metallic tang of blood in the air as her fingers peeled back skin as if she were pulling the rind off a particularly ripe fruit, bloody pulp exposed and raw. The thought of her fingers sliding between muscle and skin, slick with blood, feeling fibrous sinew tear away and hearing the wet squelch and pop as she degloved flesh from limb…   

Fist clenched, her nails dug into the palm of her hand as she fought to keep control. A pleasurable shiver ran down her spine as her mind entertained depraved thoughts, and for a moment she thought she may vomit where she knelt. She was not herself. Her mind was splintering with a hundred craven desires…she wanted to walk across fields of ruptured bodies and feel the viscera turn to jam between her toes. Her muscles tensed and she flinched away from the hand, standing in a near delirious state and muttering some nonsense about “needing a minute” before stumbling off into the fen. 

Eli needed to put distance between herself and her companions. At least for the moment. At least until her head cleared. She slogged through the wetland, unfocused on where she was going, until she felt a dampness seeping through her boots. She stopped and blinked, trying to wrench her consciousness back from the brink. As her sight cleared and the world around her came back into focus, Eli found herself standing ankle-deep in water near a riverbank, looking out over the vast and gloomy expanse of the Chionthar River - the opposite bank obscured by fog. 

Sloshing her way back to shore, Eli stepped back onto somewhat solid ground just as she heard a rustling in the thicket. Her eyes shot up to see Astarion picking through the snarl of brush and weeds that bordered the muddy shoreline. His expression was one of exasperated frustration, brow furrowed and mouth pulled into a grimace, as he tugged a booted foot free of the clinging bramble. 

“Gods below, this entire place needs to be tossed into Avernus,” he grumbled as he plucked a bur off his doublet and flicked it to the ground. Astarion then glanced up at her, crimson eyes guarded, although Eli thought she caught the glimmer of something else in his gaze…a flash of something softer. But it came and went like a spark catching alight then burning out just as quickly. “Are you…alright?” 

His tone was hesitant and uncertain, as if he were unused to the concept of asking after someone else. Astarion had an edge about him that never seemed to dull, as if he were always acting under the assumption that those around him would lash out at any given moment without warning. Eli wasn’t sure why, but she felt as if she recognized that particular brand of uneasiness. It was a tension that came from an impartial distrust of anyone and anything. A response to a life lived in a constant state of conflict, always ready for fight or flight. Something gnawed at the far recesses of her mind, tugging at a memory she couldn’t quite grasp. She understood that feeling, though she did not know why…

“I think I am. Now, at least," Eli said, rubbing at her eyes as her headache growled but remained tempered. Her mind seemed to be clearing and realigning itself to the present, no longer at risk of breaking and letting loose whatever atrocity lay coiled up inside herself. “You didn’t have to follow me out here. I just needed a moment to collect my thoughts.”

Astarion eyed her and raised a brow, disbelief apparent on his face. “My dear, whatever just happened in that pretty head of yours is not nearly as frivolous as you’re trying to make it seem.” 

Eli winced internally. He was right, of course, and it wasn’t as if she had been subtle when she’d walked off aimlessly into the bog after being doubled over and obviously in pain. Hell, given how she must have looked in that moment, he’d probably followed her to make sure she didn’t trod blindly into a sinkpit or end up ensnared by some flesh-eating swamp ficus.

She sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through her silvery hair. “I just don’t want to worry people,” Eli conceded. “We have enough to deal with, without adding my violent mood swings and absconded memory to the mix.” She spread her hands out, as if the gesture could represent the absolute shitstorm they dealt with on a daily basis.

Astarion considered her for a moment, expression thoughtful and impassive, before he shook his head with a small smile. “I believe you were the one who pointed out earlier that everyone in our weird little group is ‘deranged,’ as you put it.” He emphasized her choice of wording with a gesture of his hands, pantomiming plucking the word out of thin air.

The action brought a soft smile to her lips. She enjoyed Astarion’s embellishments and dramatics. The elf had a flare for the extravagant that she found both endearingly silly and strangely alluring…

Nope. No. Stop it. She shoved that twinge of attraction back down into the deep dark hole within and refocused herself. “Yeah, well, one of us needs to at least act somewhat sensible,” Eli quipped with a smirk. “Can’t have Zevlor and his lot figuring out how truly unhinged we all are. We may not get paid,” she said the last bit with more than a little fake indignation. 

Astarion played along, pretending to be scandalized and clutching his nonexistent pearls. “Now that would be a tragedy. I have every intention of hiring a witch at the first opportunity to hex Gale’s cookpot so it will only produce boiled squid,” he said cheerily. “I’m assuming that won’t be cheap.” 

Amused with himself, Astarion tipped his chin up, smirking at Eli with all the wiliness of a fox. For her part, Eli just rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop a grin from spreading on her face as she imagined Gale, flustered and put out, ranting about the juvenile use of magic. 

A thought occurred to her, then. Something unbidden and completely inane, but one she latched onto desperately. It was a joke that had bubbled up from the deep recesses of her broken memory, and though she had no idea where she heard it or in what context, she was delighted at the prospect of finding something among the rubble of her ruined mind. It set the tiniest flicker of hope alight within her that maybe, eventually, she may be able to recover more. 

Eyes bright, and with a reserved sort of hopefulness stirring in her chest, she gave Astarion a genuinely dorky grin and blurted out with all the self-restraint of a toddler; “What do you call a magician who cooks?”

Surprise overtook the elf’s face, and he tilted his head curiously with a small laugh, thrown by the sudden and highly abrupt tangent. Before he could speak, however, a snap sounded in the brush behind the pair. Both Eli and Astarion turned to find a man, tall and well built with slicked back hair the color of burnt coffee. His mouth, framed by a neatly kept goatee, was turned down in a grimace, jaw clenched, and in his hands the man held a very large crossbow - loaded and aimed in their direction. 

“I’d think twice before you get much closer to him, miss,” the stranger warned, eyes darting from Eli to Astarion as if he expected the elf to set upon him any second. “He’s dangerous.”

Eli frowned at the stranger, fingers curling reflexively into the beginning gesture for her Eldritch Blast incantation. “And yet you’re the one with a crossbow pointed at me,” she said warily, watching the man’s fingers for any twitch or movement on the trigger. 

Next to her, she could feel Astarion stiffen defensively, but he remained quiet. Had the stranger not had a crossbow bolt aimed in her direction, Eli would have been more curious who he was and his connection to Astarion. Due to his comments, she assumed he was aware of Astarion’s vampirism, though she couldn’t be certain. Her curiosity, however, would have to simmer in the face of their current predicament. 

“Call it a precaution,” the stranger said before tipping the crossbow in the direction of Astarion. “You know what he is? Vampire spawn.” He said the last bit as if it was supposed to be some revelation, venom laced within his words. 

Eli studied the tip of the crossbow bolt, noting how the sharpened edge glimmered faintly in the hazy light. Silver? She glanced back and caught the man’s eyes with her own, a growing dislike darkening her expression. 

“Old news, my friend,” she said with more than a hint of antagonistic sarcasm. “Known that since I met him.” 

This drew a somewhat startled noise from Astarion, whose gaze she could suddenly feel turn to her. “You did?” he asked with a genuine note of surprise in his voice. 

Astarion had not admitted to being a vampire spawn until the night Eli caught him creeping in on her as she slept, hungry and poised to bite. Up until that point, though, he’d done a rather poor job of concealing his nature. What with the bite scars on his neck and his pale, almost pearlescent, complexion. The fact he could walk in sunlight was an oddity, of course, but given that she’d just flown through Avernus on a mind flayer ship after having an illithid tadpole inserted into her brain, a vampire traipsing about in the sun wasn’t even the weirdest thing she’d seen that day.   

She chanced a quick sidelong glance at Astarion and quirked an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. It was kind of the worst kept secret in Faerûn. Shadowheart and I even had a bet about who you’d try to bite first.” Eli still owed her a bottle of sweetwine, come to think of it.

She shook the thought from her head and turned her attention back to the stranger who still had his crossbow trained on them. “Mind introducing yourself before you start a fight you’ll regret?” she asked, watching his body language for any sign that he may back down now he knew Eli was fully aware of her companion’s condition.

The stranger glared at her, and Eli sighed. Another day, another fight with some ignorant douchecanoe who was wasting the last moments of their life antagonizing her. That darkness inside of her, the thing that craved slaughter and whose language was only violence, shifted restlessly like a dog in a cage, pressing at the barricades with a cruel need. She fought to push it back, but gods she could imagine her hands tearing into his gut, ripping dying organs from the yawning wound, warm and wet. The iron scent of blood in the air. The agony twisting his face as he writhed. It would be beautiful brutality. 

Her headache was mounting once again, and through the throbbing pressure she heard the man say; “You can call me monster hunter.”

He braced his crossbow, targeting Astarion, and Eli was moving faster than coherent thought. She felt a force collide with her left shoulder, nearly knocking her off balance, and then the world melted away into a manic savagery that was both achingly familiar and terrifyingly transcendent. 

Flesh would rend. Bone would snap. And her hunger would be sated. For now. 

The headache faded, and Eli was suddenly aware of a thick and deep pain radiating from her shoulder. Her mind swam dully, like a bobber struggling to stay above water as forces tried to pull it down. She felt…tired. Dazed. 

Why was she on the ground? Was that her blood spattered across her bracers? Why was Astarion yelling?

“Godsdamnit! Why would you do that!” 

Something jostled her, and the pain in her shoulder flared. She groaned and tried to turn her head towards Astarion’s voice only to find she was propped up against him. He was kneeling next to her, a hand braced against her back to keep her seated upright while his other hand pressed into her shoulder. She grimaced, trying to ignore the searing agony rocketing down her left side, but found herself unable to focus. 

She looked up into Astarion’s face, head bobbing to the side, and squinted at him. A range of emotions flitted across his face as he looked down at her. Anger, frustration, exasperation…all common day-to-day expressions for the snarky and uppity elf. But there was something else, too. Something in the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his lips and the way his sharp, clear eyes stayed fixed on her. Concern…

“Do…what?” she asked, confused. 

Eli continued to watch his face, thinking dully about when she’d ever seen him worried and coming up with nothing. Well, she wasn’t in a great state of mind at the moment and kind of just wanted to go to sleep. She was probably just forgetting…

Her mind drifted…eyes closing wearily…

Astarion shook her gingerly and she let out a noise somewhere between a hiss and a growl. “That bolt you idiotically decided to jump in front of was laced with poison! Do. Not. Fall. Asleep.” He pressed at the wound on her shoulder and her eyes wrenched back open, pain flooding her senses and slamming adrenaline into her system.

“Fucking rude!” she yelped. 

Then, the pain was fading and a slow numbness was creeping down from her shoulder. It felt cold and soothing, and she was so tempted to just relax into it and fade away. Her head dropped and came to rest against his chest, eyelids fluttering closed again. 

“I think I just like to annoy you…” she said weakly, then gave a hiccupping sort of laugh. 

Astarion was trying to jostle her out of the daze again, only this time there was no pain and she felt too content to open her eyes as her head rested against him. 

“Eli! Eli! Shit!” He sounded so far away. So far…far…away…

“What do you call a magician who cooks?” Astarion asked, a hint of panic coiling around his words. 

From somewhere very distant, Eli remembered she hadn’t finished telling him her joke. A small laugh caught in her throat as she thought about it…but she really didn’t feel like talking right now. Gods, she wanted to sleep…

Astarion was shaking her again. “What do you call a magician who cooks! Eli!”

Fucking hell, he was loud. 

Eli groaned and tried to lift her head. Too heavy… 

…she needed to finish the joke…

“A…saucerer…” she said lamely, then laughed, head still slumped against his chest. She’d have to tell Gale…

There was some muttering, then a feeling of being lifted. The ground was gone. Her arms sagged. 

“You will not die,” she heard Astarion say from miles away. “You will not die because that was just awful, and it will not be the last thing you ever say."

Eli smiled to herself. She was hilarious…

Everything went dark.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur’s gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 headcanons #astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x durge #astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav

[balladofthewhitehorse]

hope you aren't sick of me requesting things but how about "dinner is served" for eng, Scot, and Wales!

I would never be sick of your requests <3 Thank you so, so much - You inspire me to keep writing Hetalia Fics, not gonna lie. Your bear Eng has fuelled me. 

Wales scrutinised her brothers quietly, leaned back in her chair as England and Scotland stood on the shores of the lake; It was painted in idyllic colours, faint hues of pink and washed out orange unfurling across the sky. A thread of anxiety coiled tightly around her lungs, her heart, her ribs as England muttered something to Scotland - and then a bark of laughter let Wales breathe. ‘’Having fun-?’’ She called out, smiling thinly as England turned around to regard her - with an expression painfully reminiscent of younger days amongst the dandelions and the trees (Children’s wishes and sunlight - freckling the dark undergrowth). It struck at her heartstrings like fingers at a harp, Wales’ smile thinning. ‘’-Caught anything?’’ 

‘’Not yet.’’ England grunted softly, shaking his head dolefully; Fish had been furtive and England hovered on the grassy lakeside, almost tempted to dive in head-first into the brackish water. They would have more success that way, England was sure - impatience thrumming through every nerve. ‘’I don’t know how you can stand this - just a load of sitting around…waiting for something to happen.’’ (Once he had complained during a siege, staring up at those insurmountable walls - and now it echoed by the lakeshore, on a cold, grey day).

‘’Maybe if you stopped whingeing, the fish would come.’’ Scotland muttered under his breath.

England’s eyes flashed as he shot Scotland a glare; The surface of the lake rippled as a fish came up for air, a darting brown shape in the dusky light (England pouted, irritation bearing teeth - a thorny thing he was, as he elbowed Scotland in the ribs for good measure). ‘’You’re hardly the epitome of cheeriness.’’ He glanced at Wales, seeking her approval with an impish grin that lit up his eyes - and one that vanished as quick as a wink when Wales shook her head. ‘’Oh come on-’’ England groused, petulant while his half-sister simply crossed her arms in disapproval; A tension crackling in the air as England reluctantly stood down. 

‘’Sorry.’’ 

Scotland shrugged, smirking as he reeled in a struggling trout - its speckles shiny in the early light. ‘’Naw, it’s alright-’’ He held up the fish to England’s face, pride blooming a fire in his heart as he slowly unhooked it from the line. ‘’-Caught something. Shown you how it’s done.’’

‘’Get it away from me.’’ Scotland snorted, amused as England’s nose wrinkled with disgust (freckles dusted the bridge of his nose - and Wales’ too, and Scotland was struck at once with the heady, heavy realisation that they were his siblings). The trout was carefully placed into an ice box, still kicking as Scotland laid it out reverently - a bruise coiled tight in his chest as the chatter of his family continued to murmur in the background like mayflies. ‘’...Hey, you know what we should do?’’ He sat down, wincing something in his back twinged - bad memories dragged to the surface, like a cat with a mouse - and pulled out a small pocket-knife, blood spooling out of the fish as he began to cut it open. ‘’-Have dinner here? There’s plenty of wood for a fire and…England, you remember how to set a fire? Like I taught you? Remember?’’ Scotland asked hopefully as he looked up at his younger brother (hands folded around a pair of dry sticks, knees bent into a thick bed of pine-needles - finger outstretched in patient instruction). 

‘’Or I could use a lighter?’’ England replied, his voice curt (the snapping of twigs beneath his feet as they stalked one another like wolves; Circling in bitter enmity, kin’s blood on their palms). He fumbled with his pockets as Wales slowly stood up - wandering along the lakeshore, in search of dry wood for the fire. ‘’It’s not-’’ A lump rose in his throat, England choking on sentimentality as he scoffed, a defensive sneer on his face; Prickly and warring with thorns, swarthy red flowers as a flush rose up his neck, cowed by the purse of Wales’ lips and the raise of Scotland’s thick eyebrows, questioning his little brother’s stubbornness.

‘’Are you saying that because you’ve forgotten?’’ Wales hummed quietly, striding towards her brothers - armful of twigs and sticks of varying sizes, carefully chosen and carefully arranged in a small pyramid-ish shape. ‘’...I thought you didn’t carry lighters, Eng?’’ Wales replied softly, watching England grasp it between his thumb and index finger. ‘’You don’t like the fi-’’ A short, curt look - a flash of sparks in England’s eyes, and Wales bit her tongue ruefully. ‘’It’s not the olden days anymore.’’ He replied, fumbling the lighter out of his pocket; A shudder as he pressed the pad of his thumb down on the cool metal, taking a deep breath as something fearful inside England filled out the space in his lungs - a stone in his throat, smooth and icy and heavy. ‘’We’re not-’’ A spark, and England wavered (a deep chill set into his bones, a field turned barren - there would be no more crops, all the men and women and children were leaving; Seeking more fruitful land, somewhere where there wasn’t ash, smoke and cinders). ‘’We’re not like that anymore-!’’ He cried out, half-between laughter and frustration, crinkling the corners of his eyes as the lighter trembled in his fingers. ‘’Old fuck-’’ 

‘’Hey-’’ Scotland’s brows furrowed, heavy and thoughtful; Scales clung to his fingers, silvery in the little grey sunlight. ‘’-You forgot. What about it?’’ (Wreaths of smoke hung in the air, trepidation at the base of Scotland’s spine; Convoys of mumbling strangers, yet no England). 

‘’I didn’t forget.’’ 

‘’Aye, you did.’’ ‘’Would you piss off, you-’’ 

Wales couldn’t help, but snort with amusement - head jerking up towards the treeline, now gone plum-dark. Streaks of gold filtered against a pale pink sky, a blue haze steadily encroaching with the usual impatience of twilight. She had taught Scotland how to build a fire, and then he had passed those lessons onto England while she was away; Cinders at his fingertips, England had a faceful of smoke and coughing lungs by the time Wales had come back to find the aftermath of an argument - tempers had frayed, red-eyed and hissing curses as Scotland tightly bound the puckered, pale seam of a blister under his palm, England’s face drawn into a defiant glare - shot up from the summer grass like a startled rabbit, raw knees. Hot coals on freckled skin, thrown in an argument over what leaves to burn. It was the typical kind of argument that would soon become familiar, and in time - even endearing, before spats were traded for conflict, balled fists and hair-grabbing for swords and war-hammers. The air crackled with tension - a storm brewing between England and Scotland, frowns drawn like blades, and she was stuck between them again. ‘’Would you knock it off, you two?’’ Wales hissed between her teeth, scolding her young brothers - pulling them apart, sit in the corner and think about what you’ve just done - and when she looked at them, eyes flitting between England and Scotland, Wales felt a pang of heartache. Some things would never change. 

‘’England, you can prepare the fish; Scotland, deal with the fire.’’ Wales huffed quietly. ‘’I’m hungry.’’ A sidelong glance down towards the copse of woods, and she nodded resolutely. ‘’I’ll get some thyme, sage and rosemary. Please try not to kill each other, you hear?’’ She offered a lop-sided smile - anxiety thrumming beneath her skin as she slowly walked away, slipping into the cool shade of the woods; Twigs cracked beneath her footsteps, a tight coil of nerves sitting heavy in her chest as she drew in a deep breath. She just hoped they would listen to her - just one day of peace and quiet, just one day of the year with her brothers that didn’t make Wales want to scream (it would well up inside of her; Dragonsfire buried deep in mud). 

Lingering in the wake of Wales’ silence, England blinked slowly - and staggered to his feet with a grunt, muttering under his breath as he slowly deboned the fish with a practised ease of a man who’s been doing this for centuries. A sailor had taught him, sat on a pier with a grey sea churning beneath their feet - stone and timber and a sense of hope that England longed for. Scotland might have taught him to fish, but England remembered with a rueful smile the lessons passed on to him through mortal hands. ‘’I’ve heard birch bark is good for starting fires.’’ He piped up, glancing towards Scotland with a thoughtful smile. ‘’Don’t remember where I heard it from.’’ A steady plume of smoke had already started, trawling through the air in a lofty and lazy trail from the pile of dead leaves and sticks. ‘’I think you-’’ ‘’-I told you about that.’’ Scotland cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘’Nice that you remember.’’ A silence - filled in by the odd birdsong - crept in, uncomfortable and yet familiar (the woolly burr of an old blanket, drawn tight around their shoulders as they lay side by side - the crooked lean-to of their shelter and one another all that they needed). When Wales returned with sprigs of rosemary and thyme, they set about cooking the fish in a small frying pan from the boot of Scotland’s car. (‘’Why do you have that?’’ England had asked, incredulous and confused. ‘’Why not?’’ Scotland had responded - his tone manner of fact, offering no further explanation and certainly not wishing to admit that it had been France’s idea, hastily sequestered on him in case of a car breaking down on the side of the road; Leaving them both to subsist on poor quality petrol-station lunch). 

Once dinner was served, they sat in the cool glow of the dusky light - and for the first time in a long while, things were amicable between them.

#hws england #hws scotland #hws wales #brit bros

[naquey]

One Kiss

Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, Remus Lupin, and Cassander Lyall are tired of Regulus and Roan dancing around their feelings for one another. Their arguments are insufferable, and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. To sleep at night, they team up to bring these two rivals together.

"I think you have too much room in your head for your small brain." Roan shook her head with a sigh.

"You didn't brew the perfect potion either!" Regulus huffed, crossing his arms.

"At least mine was closer. You have quite a lot of head space for someone who doesn't use it."

Regulus clenched his jaw. She was making fun of his forehead; that much was obvious. No one made fun of his forehead and got away with it. But he didn't know what to say to her. He'd exhausted calling her an idiot or saying she was a half-blood.

"Although, you should invest in bangs. They would look nice and distract people from that golf ball of a forehead you have."

"Yeah, well- " Regulus paused, the words disappearing in his throat.

"What? I can't think of something to use to insult me back?" Roan raised a brow.

He was raised not to pick on girls' appearances and to always be a poised gentleman, but she kept getting under his skin in a certain way, like dirt under his fingernails that he couldn't clean away.

"I'm sorry I call your forehead huge." Roan sighed.

"You apologize so much; it's annoying." Regulus rolled his eyes. "Are you people always like this?"

"You people? What? Were you going to call me a mudblood like your stupid friends?"

"No, no, I wasn't going to. I have never called you that."

"Well, there's a first for everyone."

When class was dismissed, Roan rushed out of potions, forgetting her textbook. Regulus hesitated momentarily, picking it up and stuffing it in his bag with his books.

"Hey, I saw that look you were giving her." Evan slung his arm around him, grinning. "Why don't you just tell her already? I mean, you can always just tell your family she's a pure wizard."

"Sod off," Regulus shrugged his arm off and walked away in a hurry. Probably to go catch up with her.

"Mate, he's in love." Barty slung his arm around Evan.

"Oh, I don't doubt it."

Roan sat in the library with Remus and Cassander, buried in her homework for the day. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff exchanged a weary look.

"So," Remus started. Averting his gaze, partly hiding behind the book he was reading.

"What? You've been acting weird since I got here." Roan huffed, hastily scribbling something down on parchment.

"We uh- heard that little conversation with Regulus in potions..." Cassander toyed with his quill.

"So what? It's like every other conversation we have."

"Uh no, you don't typically storm off after." Remus pointed out.

"Yeah, did he reject you or something?"

"What? No. I don't like him like that." Roan's face distorted in disgust.

"Yeah, sure." Remus and Cassander chuckled.

"Are you two alright? Did you get hit in the head at quidditch practice?" Roan looked unamused.

The following week, Cassander and Remus walked side by side, engrossed in their conversation. Remus was a prefect, and Cassander was Head Boy, a year above Regulus and Roan. They could see their chemistry from miles away, but it was always shut down whenever they tried to tell them that.

"Oi! You're friends with that half-blood, aren't you?" Evan shouted from down the hallway.

Remus turned around, rather annoyed. Evan had just started talking, and he wanted to shove his tie into his mouth.

"What of it?"

"Well, Barty and I here can't help but see how bad our dear Reggie is pining for that girl." Evan slung his arm around Barty.

"Okay..." Cassander adjusted the books in his arms. "What are you getting at?"

"We think it would be easier for both of us if they just got together," Barty gestured between them.

"You mean setting them up on a date?"

"Yeah!" Evan's eyes sparkled. "See, you aren't so dumb as I thought!"

"Thanks..." Cassander and Remus rolled their eyes.

Evan cleared his throat, their unenthusiastic responses were getting him nowhere. "Okay, that was mean. I'll admit it, but just think about it."

"She would stop ranting and raving about him when we do our homework." Remus scratched the back of his neck. "Sure, why not?" He looked away guiltily. This wasn't his vibe, involving himself in his friends' love lives. Even if they tried to fix his.

Remus shuttered, already getting flashbacks of when Sirius and James tried to set him up with some girls in Gryffindor to find out who he liked. Unfortunately for them, they gave up after a week.

"Alright! We'll tell you the plan tomorrow; see you then!"

Two days later, their plan was set in motion: Invite the two of them down to Black Lake. Of course, Regulus had to be dragged down there after quidditch practice, and Roan could easily be persuaded to study outside. She was such a bookworm; it was astonishing how their friend could even like her. Nerds were so dull.

Regulus tied his hair back, pulling at strands to cover his forehead. Her words had gotten to him, and he'd stood in the mirror examining his face for hours. She was correct; he had a prominent forehead, but what did that matter?

"Tch, what are you doing here? Where's Rosier?"

"Well, hello to you too, Black." Roan sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. It had been falling in her face and obscuring the text in her arithmancy textbook.

"I asked you a question."

"I can smell the sweat on you. Didn't you shower?"

"Evan told me it was important to come here right after quidditch practice."

"Oh, did you fall off your broom today?"

"Haha, very funny. I'm an exquisite seeker."

"You're a royal prick." Roan turned a page in her book.

"Do you need a hair tie, or will you stubbornly keep brushing your hair back?"

"Screw off,"

"I'm helping you, idiot." Regulus rolled his eyes. He should have walked away by now, but he didn't.

"Fine, give me the hair tie."

"I'll do you one better and do your hair."

"If my hair starts smelling like your hands, I will hex you."

"Relax, why are you even worried? The scent of your hair doesn't matter."

He could smell her shampoo; the earthy tones were subtle and warm. Rolling up his sleeves, he pulled her hair back into a ponytail using one of his brother's hair ties that he stole. His brother was really only ever good for one thing, leaving his hair ties around the house after not living there for so long. Her hair was soft to the touch, too. He didn't assume otherwise, but he hoped that wasn't another quality of hers that was wonderful. He envied her kindness, and the praise Slughorn would give her in class.

"Regulus? Did you hear what I said?" She raised a brow, turning around.

He was staring at her now. Pulling his hands back, he looked away and laughed awkwardly.

"I'm fine, I just- What did you say?"

"I asked when the next game was."

"Oh—" Regulus scratched the back of his neck. He wanted to kick himself for being awkward right now. "Next week, we're going against Gryffindor."

"Playing against your brother and his annoying friend will be exciting."

"Annoying is an understatement. Potter is... Something."

"Hey, got feelings for James." She chuckled.

"What? No."

"I know, I'm just teasing you."

Evan, Barty, Remus, and Cassander were watching in the distance. Evan groaned and slid his back down the wall.

"Come on! How can they sit there and just keep talking?"

"They're pretty intelligent and go back and forth for hours." Cassander shrugged.

"They just need to get physically closer." Evan pouted, covering his face with his hands.

"Relax, this stuff takes time. People are complicated." Remus chuckled.

"One kiss, one kiss. That's it. This moment could be it." Evan mumbled.

"They just need a little push." Barty rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain.

"Now, hold on- " Remus' eyes widened.

"You and me are going to crash into them." Barty grinned wildly at Cassander. "Make it look like we're in the middle of a fight."

"Really?" Cassander deadpanned.

Looking at the sparkle in Barty's eyes, Cassander caved. He couldn't say no to a bit of mischief, even if he was Head Boy. He just hoped that teachers wouldn't see him play fighting with someone. Then he'd be demoted.

So, he and Barty began to wrestle on the ground, flipping over once in a while, each on top, trying to injure the other. Remus covered his face with his hands, wanting absolutely not to be part of this, even though he had agreed two days ago. As soon as they got closer enough, Barty quickly pushed Roan, then sprung to his feet and sprinted away. Cassander followed after him.

"Get back here Crouch!" He had to make it believable.

Roan and Regulus were sitting on the hill just as Roan got pushed. She squeaked and began to roll towards the lake.

"What the hell..." Regulus looked back at Cassander and Barty.

"I'm going to kill him!" Roan shouted just before splashing into the lake. She hadn't thought to stop herself.

Regulus scrambled down the hill, reaching into the shallow part of the lake to pull her out.

"Was this your doing?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I have no idea what's going on." Regulus turned his head, and he felt his friends were watching.

"Liar." She pulled him down into the lake with her. Of course, he shouldn't have offered his hand to help her up.

Roan burst into laughter when he landed in the lake with a splash. Regulus broke the surface and splashed water at her.

"Hey, I was trying to help."

"This was your fault, to begin with."

"My fault? Okay." He shoved more water at her with a snicker.

Evan, Barty, and Cassander leaned forward. Remus was trying hard not to be seen with the three of them. Evan and Barty high-five.

"To be honest, they are kind of cute..." Cassander muttered, nodding to himself.

#hp #harry potter #regulus black #hp regulus black #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #remus lupin #roan goldfinch #ravenclaw #slytherin #slytherin x ravenclaw #fluff #just friends setting up friends #hp fandom #marauders #marauders era #marauders fandom #hp marauders #the marauders #the marauders era #finchseeker #cassander lyall #hufflepuff #gryffindor

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Hype's Holiday Drabbles, day 1-10

All of my fics written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 1-10

Artwork by @house-of-the-moving-image

Break it first

Prompt: Came back wrong | Rated: M | CW: Mind control/brainwashing; Possessive behavior; Referenced character death; Aftermath of trauma; Kidnapping | Tags: Kas!Eddie Munson; Dark Eddie Munson | Artwork link

In the ruins

Prompt: Came back wrong | Rated: M | CW: Apocalypse; Off-screen character death; Imprisonment; Body horror; Blood and gore; Hurt, no comfort; Starvation; Vampirism (referenced) | Tags: Darkfic; Came back wrong; Vecna won; Unreliable narrator

Take my hand (we'll make it, I swear)

Prompt: Mutual pining | Rated: G | CW: Steve getting vecna'd; Some violent imagery | Tags: Idiots in love; Fluff and angst | Artwork link

Punch me out

Prompt: Meet-cute at work | Rated: E | CW: Blowjobs, dirty talk, slight degradation kink | Tags: No UD AU; company Christmas party; bathroom sex; blowjobs; dirty talk; Eddie is a disaster and Steve is a slut and they both love it; inappropriate use of vending machine drinks

The biggest, brightest, gaudiest display in all of Indiana

Prompt: Domestic fluff | Rated: G | CW: One slight mention of PTSD | Post Vecna; everybody lives; pining; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; Christmas

Hungry for you

Prompt: Cooking together | Rated: M | CW: sexually explicit language | No UD AU; modern AU (if you squint); record shop owner!Eddie; restaurant owner!Steve; sexual tension; seriously, it's so thick you could cut it with a knife; top Steve; bottom Eddie

A promise kept

Prompt: Idiots to lovers | Rated: G | CW: none | Tags: Childhood friends to lovers; Mistaken identity; Fluff; Modern AU if you squint | Artwork link

Ready to roll?

Prompt: No Upside Down AU | Rated: T | CW: one mention of masturbation bc Eddie is a horny little shit | Tags: Future fic; Flirting; Record label owner!Eddie; Waiter!Steve; Steve in rollerblades | Artwork link

Morning after

Prompt: First time | Rated: E | CW: Alcohol; Dirty talk; Sexually explicit language; Nudity; One slight mention of BDSM | Tags: Established relationship; Tongue fucking (referenced); Service mouth Steve Harrington; ADHD disaster Eddie Munson; Idiots in love

[Day 11-20]

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles