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dira333 · 3 months

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Date Nights - Aizawa Shouta

From the Date Night Series - Tagging @alienaiver

Edit: You need to have this visual while reading

“Are you ready to go?”

Shouta looks up from his desk. He’d been so close to resting his head on it, to giving his tired eyes some much-needed rest.

Your smile is warm and inviting. And it makes something tingle in the back of his brain, something he’d been trying to remember all week.

“Oh no,” he groans softly, “I forgot our date.”

Your smile doesn’t falter.

“I heard about your day from Hizashi,” your voice does not carry any resentment yet his heart is thundering in his chest.

God, he’d been so anxious about it, had been pondering where to go and what to do for hours, how could he forget?

“Let me just get a coffee real quick and we’ll be good to go,” Shouta insists. He’ll also need at least five minutes in a bathroom and a spare change of clothes. He knows he looks more like a homeless person than anything else right now and he probably smells like it too.

“No need,” you wave him off. His heart stutters to a halt.

Please don’t cancel, Shouta thinks, just as you reach out and take his hand. Your fingers are warm against his own cold ones, bad circulation be damned.

“I asked you out, so of course I planned the date. Come on, we don’t want to miss anything.”

“But coffee-” He manages, his heart pitter-pattering away as he follows you down the hallways of the school.

They are deserted, thankfully. As much as he loves the feel of your hand in his, he couldn’t bear it if anyone saw.

Your car is a lime-green monstrosity. You smile sheepishly when he stares at it.

“I like bright colors,” you shrug, “And I’ve never lost my car in a car park since I’ve bought it.”

He can’t argue against that. The seats are soft and he can feel himself slipping, almost falling asleep against the window. When he jerks away, adamant to at least look awake if he’s not looking like much else, he finds your hand resting on his knee. His mouth runs dry. Can he? Is he supposed to?

He puts his hand on yours and you turn to smile at him before looking back at the road.

It’s a quiet ride. Somewhere in the organized chaos of his brain, he jots down that you don’t listen to music while you drive. It’s a welcome change from sharing rides with Hizashi.

“We’re here.” You park in front of an apartment complex. “Come on up.”

Your keys jingle in your hand as you walk in front of him, up the stairs and down a hallway. You open the door that has your name on it.

His heart thunders traitorously. Did you bring him to your place for your first date? Why?

His mouth won’t let him form words, so he follows you silently, his mind racing ahead.

It’s only when he’s slipped out of his shoes and pulled on the bunny slippers you’ve placed for him, that he makes sene of what’s going on.

In the middle of your living room is a fort of pillows and blankets, big enough to house All Might in his muscle form if he wanted to.

Shouta stops and stares. You do flourish your arms. “Tada! Do you want something to drink first? I thought it was a good idea because you honestly always look like you don’t get enough rest and it’s important to take care of each other’s needs in a relationship and I asked you out so-”

It’s the first time he’s heard you rambling today and the familiar sound soothes his nerves a little. At least you’re nervous too.

He steps forward, boldened by your own actions, and kisses you.

You sink into it right away, arms thrown around him to pull him even closer.

When you pull back first, he can’t help but chase after you, to sink further into your embrace as you giggle with your face pressed against his neck.

“I’ll make you something to drink, okay?” You whisper, face still hidden away. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He wakes up hours later, throat perched, head in your lap.

You’re reading something on a tablet, one hand free to drag itself through his hair in a motion that could put him back to sleep again.

“So, about a second date…” You ask when you stop at his place in the morning so that he can get a fresh set of clothes before work. You’re not looking at him but your hands are squeezing the steering wheel, telling him how nervous you are.

He leans over and kisses you, pouring all his feelings into the gesture.

“There’s a bookstore in my neighborhood,” he offers, “We could go there after school. Today shouldn’t be as draining and even if, I want to go with you.”

Your smile could light up the world. It certainly lights up his.

“Ready to go?” Shouta’s patting himself down as he asks. He’s got his keyes, his pain medication, his phone is fully charged and his wallet’s there too.

You’re still on the Couch, petting Muffin. The old tabby is purring so loud he can hear it from the entryway.

“For what?” You ask, a little distracted by Muffin trying to chew on your fingertips.

“We’ve got a Date, honey. Why did you think Deku picked up Eri?”

“Because he wants to spend time with her?” You pull Muffin from your lap and deposit her on a pillow, kissing her head when she mews.

You yawn as you walk over, don’t cover your mouth in favor of brushing the pet hair from your legs.

“What kind of date?” You ask as you pull close and kiss him, snuggle into his embrace.

“There’s this new Bookshop a few blocks down. I walked past it a few times when I went to the park with Eri and it looked promising.”

“Really?” You furrow your brows. “How do I not know about it? I’ve never seen one when I go to the park with her.”

“That’s because we take a different route. More cats, less foot traffic.” He kisses your cheek and pushes you toward the bedroom.

“Five minutes, you need a different sweater. I won’t go out with you looking like this.”

You stick your tongue out at him, but comply.

When you come back, he can’t help the laugh bubbling in his throat. You’re wearing a Ganriki Neko sweater in purple and turquoise over a purple skirt and turquoise tights, an outfit he’s seen last at one of Hizashi’s costume parties.

“How do I look?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Like I need sunglasses to take you in,” He jokes.

The walk to the bookstore is short and quiet. You’ve been distracted lately,

Maybe it’s the new Class you’ve got or Eri’s recurring nightmares, but he’d been planning a date like this for a while now. Taking a break just hasn’t gotten easier now that they’re parents.

“Pspsps,” He leans down to feed a snack to the little black kitten that Eri has fallen in love with. It’s well groomed and clearly belongs to someone, but it loves coming over to say hi.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Shouta declares the moment you step into the store. It’s lovely, not entirely rebuilt, but rather renovated, giving the old, darkened wood some new life.

You nod and wander around, peeking at the shelves in search of something that tickles your interest. He finds you in the non-fiction aisle not much later, deeply invested in a cookbook.

“This has everything,” you explain. “How to eat during your pregnancy or if you want to increase the chances as well as how to feed children of different ages.”

“Okay? How are the recipes though? We’ve got plenty of cookbooks at home we don’t use.”

“True,” you grumble. It’s your least favorite thing about him, how he tends to stop you from impulse buying. He offers you your drink before you can dwell on that any longer.

“For you, sugar with a side of coffee.”

“Har Har.” You mock laugh before taking a sip of the concoction, furrowing your brows a little. “It tastes a little off,” you claim. “Did you ask for something from the menu?”

“No, I gave them your special recipe. Sorry, do you want something different?”

“No, it’s fine. They probably made it for the first time this way.” You take another sip and your brows relax. “I’m just a little weird today.”

“I’m a little weird everyday,” he offers and you lean into him, heavy, warm and familiar.

“Let’s take a look around, shall we?” He grabs your free hand with his, swings them around as he pulls you forward. There’s plenty to see and soon enough, his arms grow loaded with books. The newest edition of the manga Hitoshi reads, a signed biography of a Hero Hizashi’s still very enthusiastic about, bookmarks and a little Neko Nightlight for Eri, the list goes on.

“I need to sit down for a bit,” Shouta exclaims when you turn back towards the non-fiction again. “You can find me at the children’s books.”

“Okay.” You get on your tiptoes and kiss his stubble. “I won’t take long.”

Shouta’s halfway through a book about a little mole looking for a home when you come back. He’s accustomed to the sound of your footsteps, even if they come a little more hesitant, like now.

You’ve got one book in your arms, the title hidden as it’s pressed against your stomach.

There’s a shy smile on your face as you turn it around to show him the cover.

“How to be Pregnant for Dummies.”

He reads it and reads it again. The news take a moment to seep into his brain but when it does, he almost takes down the book display with how fast he jumps from his seat.

“No way!”

“SHHH!” Someone shushes him from the front. Shouta doesn’t care.

You’re smiling, eyes a little teary.

“Since when do you know?”

“I got the results today, but I missed my period so I’ve had a hunch for a week or so. It’s still pretty early.” You giggle when he peppers kisses all over your face, making it almost impossible for you to keep talking.

“Sorry, I was a little bit in my head the last few days.”

“It’s okay. It’s big news.”

“Hm. How do we tell Eri? And Hitoshi? And-”

Shouta turns around and pulls a book from the pile he wants to buy.

“Little Neko got a sibling?” You ask, a little dumbfounded. “How did you know?”

His smile is a little sheepish. He can never lie to you.

“I didn’t. But the Neko was cute.”

You laugh at that, pull him closer. It reminds him of their first second date.

Of cuddling in a corner at the bookstore, away from prying eyes.

Some things will never change, even with a metal leg and a new life on the way.

“Where do you wanna go next?” He asks when the books are paid for, hanging off his right arm as you lean onto his left.

You blink up at him, eyes still a little red-rimmed from all the happy tears.

“When’s Eri coming home?”

“Two hours, maybe. Do you wanna go home and cuddle?”

You ponder that for a second, your hands warm on his.

“Let’s get ice cream,” you decide, a wide smile on your face. “And when we get back, we can make a fort!”

Shouta pulls you close, presses a kiss onto the top of your head.

“I love you.”

“Mhm,” You grin up at him. “I love you more.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #my hero academia #my hero academia fluff #mha fluff #mha x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa fluff #aizawa and eri #dad!zawa #aizawa shouta

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biaonww · 3 months

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"something about you" rin itoshi based • angst based on not-so-bf trope <3

may contain errors, similar content is coincidental.

watching rin itoshi’s match is always mesmerizing. he shines in destroying things that are close to him.

it’s complete monstrosity when he plays, which is the complete opposite of his brother sae’s gameplay.

a completely calculated person, while rin is a monster.

but still—

why does rin still shine so much?

why does he stand out the most in your eyes, as if he was a twinkling star in the sky you would wish on?

why is he so captivating, yet always out of your hand?

bothered by your thoughts, rin wins his match. of course, another easy win for him.

… but its noisy. it hurts your ears.

announcers announcing his win.. interviewers excitingly waiting for him to get out of the stadium and start asking him questions… the horn sounds and people shrieking….

but everything goes quiet when he manages to find you straight away.

no matter how many people are in the stalls—

his eyes always seem to capture you.

those beautiful eyes that could even challenge a diamonds beauty.

but there he is again, confusing you.

he’s looking at you pleadingly, right after he scored the last shot.

shouldn’t he be focused on the crowd, and the way they scream his name in joy?

did he maybe finally realize that he left you mesmerized every single time?

did he maybe finally realize that you were always admiring him from afar?

or will he push you away again when he gives you mixed signals?

you sigh thinking of it, so you stand up, going to the exit of the stadium.

but once you finally reach the corridor, you see rin.

so you pause from walking, while he jogs towards you.

“you should celebrate your win, itoshi.” you remark.

“don’t call me itoshi.” he says in a tone that sounds like he’s still trying to catch his breath, while gripping your arm tightly.

(but of course, not in a way that would hurt you. he wouldn’t want that.).

“i think it is only proper of me to call you itoshi. considering you never let me see what’s under your disguise.”

“i said don’t call me itoshi.”

“fine then.”

“— you know what, rin? i actually think it’s better if you keep pushing me away.”

“i mean i don’t know if you’re just another unreachable dream, or a one-in-a-million person i can achieve.”

“but i also don’t know if you’ll destroy me. which i’m scared of.”

“after all, you said everything that grows close to you soon tears down.”

you look at the floor, eyes slowly but surely becoming watery.

rin stays quiet, his gaze softening when you immediately look down.

“… if you’re scared of me destroying you, then i’ll try and treat you like a delicate flower.”

“if you ever get scared, i’ll stay by your side to keep you safe.”

“if you hate the noise, then i’ll cover your ears for you.”

“if i don’t show my true self to you, then i’ll lower my guard for you.”

“just don’t leave like everyone does. not like nii-san.”

“but instead stay. i’m humbly asking you to stay right now.”

“i’m sorry that i give you mixed signals. but give me a chance to prove myself to you, please?”

“i’m not perfect. i’m not the best yet. love is foreign to me. we may have fights and disagreements when we’re together. but for you, i’ll try.”

you finally look up at him, the tears in your eyes spilling out already.

but he wipes them for you, and looks at you so fondly.

“then why couldn’t you do all this in the first place, you idiot?” you mumble.

“i’m sorry.”

“but what’s your answer? will you accept me, or not?”

he chuckles softly, slowly letting down his facade for you. and only you.

“… you know it’s a yes, rin.”

— fin.

now that im rereading this, it actually looks so SHITTY WTF... but i hope its good enough to be posted </3 reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated pls !! (btw, tags kinda foreshadow the fic so hehe)

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin imagines #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #blue lock angst #bllk angst #itoshi rin angst #bluelock #blue lock x you #rin itoshi fluff #rin itoshi angst

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neverevan · 3 days

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Fuck It Friday 💌

I keep wondering if people even know that I write... like, I know giffing has captivated me lately, but actually this is where I'm "based", so to speak. I just kinda fell off the map since the new season started airing (and since posting that 75k monstrosity that was the mudslide fic lmao).

Anyway, I am finally, finally getting closer to finishing the buck loves tommy fic (which pretty much does what it says on the tin, though it does have an actual title now), all it needs is some hefty editing and it's ready to be posted — hopefully within the next few days. Until then, here's some soft angst that somehow found its way into the middle of the smut.

“Good.” Tommy’s lips stretched into one of those wide but close lipped smiles and it was hard to hold back the urge to trace it with his thumb — so he didn’t. Tommy gave a small kiss to the tip of Buck’s thumb, before opening his lips and sucking it in between them, humming quietly. “God… did you get even hotter while you were away?” Buck mused with an incredulous huff. “Are you trying to talk your way into my pants?” Tommy’s grin was downright dangerous as he let go of Buck’s finger and leaned down to get a hold of the hem of his t-shirt, rolling it up as much as he could with the stupid sling in the way. “You’re not wearing any pants.” Buck pointed out with a teasing lilt of his voice. “Must be doing real good on all that talking then, huh?” “Funny.” Buck rolled his eyes jovially, but when Tommy didn’t answer or in fact moved at all, he zeroed in on his face with a frown. “H-hey, you okay?” “I don’t know. Are you?” Buck followed his line of sight, only to realize that Tommy was staring directly at the bruises on his ribs, where they were blooming like a collection of poisonous clematises; hugging his torso tight, probably for weeks to come. “Y-yeah, I told you, I’m fine. It’s- it’s just some bruising, no big deal, I swear.” “We can wait until you feel better.” Tommy suggested, his face darkening and his eyes never leaving the big blotches of purple and pink. “Baby, does it look like I wanna wait?” Buck scoffed, gesturing vaguely at his achingly hard cock, only inches away from Tommy’s own. “Evan, that’s not—” “You a-asked me what I need.” Buck cut him off with a serious set of his jaw. “This- this is what I need. You. That’s all I want, okay? So just… please, would you just touch me already?” Buck closed his eyes with a frustrated little sigh and only opened them when he felt a feather light touch on his skin, causing it to twitch with a tickle, as Tommy’s lips brushed over the bruises. “That okay?” He hummed quietly, his lips gently vibrating with it and bringing a small tingle into Buck's ribs, one that somehow felt like it was going much deeper than skin or bone. “Y-yeah… okay.”

✨I have been tagged by and am absolutely no pressure tagging the ever so talented @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @exhuastedpigeon @bidisasterevankinard @diazsdimples @likegoldintheair @honestlydarkprincess @watchyourbuck @actualalligator @wikiangela @bucksbignaturals @loveyouanyway and anyone else who feels like sharing mwuahhh 💛

#the smut is just some very rought draft at the moment but it's finally done #and the whole thing is nearly 9k unedited #which the people who do remember how i am when i write already know means it'll be a miracle if it comes out under 10k lmao #i kinda missed this ngl #anyway #911 #911 abc #bucktommy #wip #buck loves tommy

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everythingelseisextra · 10 months

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Casual

Request: No Description: A panic attack sends you and Tommy into surprising vulnerability. Hurt/comfort with some fluff at the end. Warnings: Brief mention of self harm, panic attack, language Word Count: 1250 Author's Note: I'd like to make it clear that I don't believe having panic attacks makes you broken. That's Tommy's belief, not mine. Just saying. Tag List: @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

Your blood is too thin for your veins. Your lungs are too weak for your heart. Your body is too big for this room. Your eyes are too blurry for you to see. And you gasp, folded into the corner of the bathroom, arms wrapped around yourself and mind chasing itself in circles. Every muscle in your body contracts, and you collapse in on yourself trying to breathe, trying to take one, just one, breath. Stars swirl and your vision goes dark at the edges and suddenly you think you’ll pass out. You sob. Wracking your chest, shaking your entire body, forcing you to clutch at your shirt, the toilet next to you, anything that might anchor you, give you something to hold on to. You’re deep, deep under the earth with the weight of the world pressing down on your chest, and you’re panting, pleading with whatever God will listen to let you breathe, let your panic subside.

The door to the bathroom opens and you let out a frenzied yelp, pushing yourself back, trying to hide yourself. You can’t be seen like this. Your limbs tingle with breathlessness and you can’t feel your feet or your legs or your fingers. Your legs curl up to your chest and you clutch at your knees, hiding your face on them.

Footsteps come towards you, and a shadow falls. You’re on the precipice of passing out, your head spinning, your body going numb, your vision inexplicably flashing from white to black and back to white again. You can’t be seen like this, can’t let anyone know you fall victim to these kinds of terrors, these irrational spells of panic. These attacks.

The footsteps walk away again, and you uncurl from yourself, letting your legs lengthen on the ground, letting your arms fall to your sides, letting your body tremble fully. Tears run down your cheeks, and you feel pathetic, broken. You cry out as pain rushes through your chest, spiking into your heart, because your breath is gone and won’t come back. Because you’re hidden in a corner, unable to pull yourself out of this horrific monstrosity of an enemy. Because this is a nightmare you can’t wake up from, even when you scratch at your own skin, even when you pinch so hard you bleed. Still asleep, still stuck. You just have to ride it out, wait the thirty minutes, hour, two hours, until it fades away.

The footsteps return, and along with it, a voice. “This is going to be very cold. I promise it’ll help.”

And then, before you register what was said, you’re drenched. Head to toe, drenched, and the water is freezing cold. You screech and scuttle back into your corner, and suddenly, there’s breath back in your lungs. You take a heaving breath, then another, then another, violently shivering. Freezing cold and deeply embarrassed, but breathing. You look up at the only person who could’ve done this, the only person with the balls to pour ice water on your head during a panic attack, the only person you wouldn’t murder for doing so.

“What the fuck was that?” You look up at Tommy, who stands in front of you, staring down with a furrowed brow and sharp eye.

“Worked in the tunnels. Shocks you, makes you breathe.” He crouches down, holding the empty metal bucket in front of him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” You know exactly what he’s asking, you just don’t want to explain it, don’t want to have to spell out your inner demons, even to him.

“You should’ve told me.” His words grow slightly tense. “Should’ve fucking told me.”

“Why? Why should I have told you?”

“Why do you think?” His voice reaches a new level of sarcastic, almost deliriously so. “Why do you think you should’ve told your husband that your mind plays tricks on you?”

You look down. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No, I don’t want ‘sorry.’” He shifts forward to kneel, sitting back on his feet. “I want you to tell me why.”

You duck your head, wrapping your sodden arms around yourself. “It’s stupid.”

“I don’t care. It’s you.”

You take another breath, still shocked that you can, that your lungs allow for expansion again. Shivering ripples through you. “I thought you wouldn’t want someone who was scared. I thought you would only want to be with someone who can face the world like you do. And… I can’t. That’s the truth of it. There are things that scare me that will always scare me, and I can try to help myself, but sometimes, I end up here.” You gesture to yourself.

He gives you a searching look, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “What happens to me every night, love?”

“...You have nightmares.” You look away.

“What happens when I have to go underground?”

“You… You can do it, but you need help after.”

“That’s right.” He reaches out and places a hand on your knee. He’s warm, and you close your eyes, wanting to soak in his touch, feel him all the way through you to save you from the chills. “I need help.”

“Yeah, but… that’s different. You fought in a war. I didn’t. I just am like this for no reason.” You look back at him. “Tommy, I don’t know why I��m like this.”

“I don’t have an answer.” His grip tightens on your leg and he drags you towards him, bringing you out of your corner, out of hiding. This coaxes a small smile from you, and you lean forward to rest your head on his shoulder, sighing, trying to stop your body from shivering. “There’s something broken about us both.”

You nod. Your throat closes, and your eyes squeeze shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Happens to me. Happens to Arthur. Happened to John. Fuck, happens to Polly these days, and she never fought. Shelby family curse. Maybe we should make it official.”

You pull away to look at him. “Did you just— did you just casually propose?”

He smiles, boyish. “Might’ve. Might not have.”

“Thomas Shelby, I can’t let you get away with that.” You lunge forward to hug him, knocking him down with your soaked and freezing body. His arms wrap around you and he rolls you so he lies on top of you, his legs between yours, body pressed against you, holding himself up on either side.

“Too casual.” His hair shadows his eyes, but you can see the glint in them, the spark you fell in love with. “I’ll try again. Since we’re both broken, and we know each other’s brokenness, will you agree to live with my brokenness for the rest of your life?”

You laugh, lifting yourself to kiss him. “Yes. That wasn’t much better, but yes. I’ll be your spouse.”

He sits up, a small grin spreading across his face. Your heart flutters. You haven’t seen him like this in months.

“Need to tell Ada.” He stands and reaches down to help you up. “Been bothering about it for weeks.”

“It’s the middle of the night!” You shove him, pushing him against the bathroom wall and pinning him there with both arms on his chest. “You menace! Don’t go waking her up.”

Betraying all the trust you ever had in him, he reaches out and tickles you. You screech with laughter, pulling away from him and twisting to get away.

“You’re worth waking up for.” He starts for the door. “Let’s make our announcement.”

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky fucking blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #peaker blinders fandom

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gravehags · 5 months

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satan baby

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: yule with the papas, secondo and terzo fighting over caroling, gift giving, and maybe...kissing

Words: 1,877

Summary: It's the most wonderful time of the year.

a/n: it's been a while my children. eat up and merry christmas to those who celebrate. a little present from me to you.

~~~

“This is Secret Santa, you’re only supposed to get a gift for one person,” you sigh, currently inundated with a pile of presents on your lap and by your feet. “What’s all this?”

“Correction, bella, this is Secret Satan where you get as many gifts for whomever you like, sì? And you’re our star this year.”

Terzo smiles warmly at you as you fidget with the fabric of your festive dark green velvet skirt. You’ve all gathered in the Papas’ private living room, the mantle of the roaring fireplace positively bedecked with greenery and a massive tree opposite. A couple weeks ago you and Copia were put in charge of creating the orange garland, a not insignificant task given the height and breadth of the noble fir. Speaking of Copia, he is sitting in a deep leather armchair, stroking his mustache thoughtfully and giving you a funny look. When you give him an exaggerated wink his lips curl into a smile and his eyes dart away as his cheeks flush.

“Another cup, signorina?”

Primo is currently standing next to the hot plate on the side table, stirring the large cauldron of mulled wine. You really shouldn’t, you already are feeling a little woozy and warm but what the hell. Christmas, right? Or Yule, rather. You nod eagerly and Primo doles out a hefty amount of the dark liquid into a mug with little rats on it, passing it to Secondo who passes it to you as Terzo hands you yet another gift to open. So far you’ve unwrapped a beautiful homemade perfume from Primo and a garnet jewelry set which you are sure is quite old and quite expensive from Terzo. Copia still clings to the small present on his lap that bears a tag with your name on it, unwilling to see it in your hands just yet. One of these presents alone would be more than enough to dazzle you but the Papas insist on spoiling you. Who are you to object?

“This one is from me,” Secondo says, smiling slightly sinisterly over the rim of his mug.

“Ominous, but okay,” you say as you unwrap the box with caution. When you gingerly open the lid and see what’s inside, you let out an undignified screech. Primo, Terzo, and Copia exchange alarmed expressions as you reach in and lift the stuffed creature from its confines to marvel at it. It’s positively hideous - a large round potato-like head, red vestments, even a glittering pectoral grucifix. You’re beaming.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Copia says, outraged and red-faced.

“He’s perfect,” you coo, holding him against you in a tight hug. “Look at his stupid little face!”

“Ah, sì, he looks just like you,” Terzo says with a grin.

“He–it–looks nothing like me. No mustache. No sideburns. Eyes are all wrong!”

“He’s beautiful,” you say, cradling the monstrosity in your arms with all the grace of Mary. “Thank you Secondo.”

“I made him myself, you know.”

“A man of many talents!”

“A man of many war crimes,” Copia growls from his spot, flinging himself backwards in his chair and crossing his arms.

“Don’t speak about our son that way!” you cry, pressing your palms to the ears of the small stuffed man.

“Our son?” Copia cocks his head with interest and the brothers all look at you in silence.

“Y-yes. He looks - mostly - like you and I am his mother. Therefore we are his parents. So step up.”

When you reach out to hand the stuffed cardinal to the real thing, he sighs and takes it in his hands.

“He is infernal,” Copia says, placing him sitting up on his lap. “But I accept him as mine.” The sight makes you scramble for your phone to take as many pictures as possible.

“What a beautiful family moment,” Terzo says, wiping a fake tear from his cheek. “Copia, I think you’re the only one left who hasn’t exchanged presents!”

Handing the doll back to you he hesitates to reach for the gift still in his lap. Primo, ever wise, interrupts to ask if anyone wants dessert while you reach down and grab the present you’ve brought for Copia. Terzo and Secondo haul themselves up with much grumbling and follow Primo out of the room to help.

“I thought you said you were only bringing a present for one person? Primo was who you drew, sì?”

“Yeah I know but,” you scoot your chair closer to him, “you’re special. You’ve been on my side since day one. I couldn’t not get you something. You mean too much to me.”

Copia blushes the fiercest shade of red you’ve seen yet as you hand him the heavy package.

“Grazie, cara mia,” he says quietly, mismatched eyes boring earnestly into yours.

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t opened it.”

With a smile he begins unwrapping the festive paper. When he finishes and sees what is inside his heart jumps.

“Dolcezza,” he breathes and you blush just as fiercely as him at the nickname, “this is wonderful.”

It had taken you a lot of time and a lot of money (worth every cent as far as you are concerned) to locate an antique facsimile of William Blake’s art. Admittedly, you had used a lot of the Ministry’s excellent resources to find it but all the effort was worth it for this moment. When Copia looks up at you, you swear there are tears in his eyes.

“I have never before received a gift such as this, cara. Thank you.”

When you reach out and cover his gloved hand with yours and squeeze firmly, it’s as if his whole body sinks into itself. Softly, he picks up your hand and brings it to his lips - a sweet echo of his action from the first day you met. It takes everything within you not to knock all the items out of Copia’s lap and climb in it yourself. In all honesty, you’re moments away from doing just that when the Papas return to the room with much clamor. Your heart sinks as Copia drops your hand and clears his throat, and you return to your chair from your half-risen position. When Copia looks at you and points to the small box next to him, you mouth the words “later” with a smile before accepting a comically large slice of yule log from Secondo. The rest of the evening is relatively quiet apart from the dueling rendition of “Carol of the Bells” that Secondo and Terzo fight over while Primo sleeps contentedly in his comfy armchair. When the Papas begin loudly arguing in Italian you signal to Copia and begin gathering your things in a large brown bag. Without a word the two of you slip out the door and when you hear a crash and Primo’s deep bellow ringing out you skitter away down the hall.

“Looks like we made it out just in time,” you giggle as the two of you finally slow.

“Eh, sì, it always ends like this,” Copia says with a huff and an eye roll, “they can’t help themselves.”

Copia is unaware of where he is standing but oh, you certainly are. This looks like a perfect place to stop.

“Not trying to be pushy but I think you were going to give me something?” you say, cocking your head and setting down your bag.

“Ah…yes,” he sets down the book you gifted him and thrusts out his hand with the fastidiously wrapped present within it. “For you.”

You take the gift and open it delicately and slowly and see him chew on his bottom lip slightly.

“If you don’t like it I–”

“Hush,” you say simply as you open the box. Inside, resting on dark red velvet is a simple and small golden grucifix on a delicate matching chain.

“You always wanted to be a part of the Ministry,” he says quietly, fussing with his gloves, “and I hope this lets you know that we accept you. We’ve always accepted you. I–”

You remain silent as you set down the box and put the necklace on while Copia watches. When you finish your hands don’t return to your sides but rather come up to cradle the Cardinal’s cheeks. He’s frozen as you stand just like this, thumbs brushing against his sideburns and a look on your face that he doesn’t think he has the capacity to describe. Your cheeks positively glow, your eyes seem lit from within and your lips are curled into a soft smile. They part momentarily for you to take a deep, steadying breath - inhale, exhale - before you lean forwards and gently place your lips on his. The ground shifts beneath him, the world is spinning as the fingers of your right hand begin to slide along his jaw and you tilt your head. You hesitate only for a moment, pulling back slightly before Copia grabs you insistently by the back of the head and pushes his lips back against yours. He tastes of mulling spices and his mustache tickles your upper lip, as you always knew it would. When you finally need to catch your breath he barely relinquishes his grip on you, making you laugh and kiss his chin.

“Why,” he whispers, thumb running against your cheekbone. “Why me?”

You lean forward and rest your head against his chest, close enough to hear the thud of his heart.

“It was always you,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist and stroking his back. “Always. From the moment you kissed my hand the day I was hired to the moment you comforted me when I was sad and lonely. From the moment you shared your rats with me. From the moment you put me to bed when I was drunk. All of it, Copia. All of you. That’s why.”

When you pull back to look at him, there’s definitely no mistaking the tears in his eyes this time and when he frantically pulls you in for another kiss, you can feel the wetness on your own cheeks. When you pull away with a giggle he looks concerned.

“Amore mio, what is it?”

You point upwards to the healthy sprig of mistletoe hanging from the rafter.

“You had no idea did you,” you say with a grin, chin resting on his sternum.

“Who would? Who could even see that and in the dark I–” his words cut off as you gasp from the short sharp smack to your ass.

“Copia! Not in front of our child!” you chastise, reaching into the bag and pulling out the accursed doll.

“Ugh, I had forgotten about him,” Copia grouses as you take it and peck him on the cheek with it.

“What should we name him?” you muse, adjusting the doll’s pellegrina.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something suitably horrific,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead which you lean into eagerly. “Until then…shall I, eh, walk you back to your rooms?”

“Please,” and with one last long, lingering kiss with the odd cardinal doll squished between the two of you, you pick up your bag and continue the long walk back to your cozy bed with the Satanic cardinal you hoped would soon be in it.

#cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x f!reader #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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kimsohn · 5 months

Text

insignificance

pairing . eric x gn! reader about . 2k words, fluff (suggestive) warnings . 16+ cause there is heavy making out at the end, drinking wine, mentions of murder but it's all jokes!!

synopsis . it takes one dinner and a late-night drive for you to fall in love with your fiancé all over again. note . the inspo for this fic was @sohnric's plot twist make-out scene (and this pic) i hope i did it justice 💗 i wrote this on a whim and am posting this at 1am so please excuse me for this monstrosity 😭 tysm @juyeonszn and @mars101 for cheering me on YUPP tagging . @stealanity @invuwrld @gfksn (+ bar)

The background noise of the waiters shuffling around fades away as your two glasses clink together. Vivaldi’s Spring is playing in the background, a piece you’ve only heard once in a blue moon at an orchestra concert. Eric seems to have experienced differently, though, judging by the taps of his dress-shoe-covered foot beneath the table and the twinkle in his eyes.

“Cheers,” you whisper, giddy with excitement.

“Cheers, baby,” Eric whispers back, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grin.

The wine in your glass swishes as you take a tentative sip. It’s sweet and fruity, and you’ve already forgotten the name Eric rattled off to the waiter as if expensive drinks were second nature to him. They probably were second nature to the Sohn family, considering the elegance of this fancy restaurant, the outfit he bought that now adorns you, and the sparkling ring that sits on your finger.

You set the glass down next to you, already a little overwhelmed with the elegance of this atmosphere. You knew you married rich, but it never particularly occurred to you just how rich your fiancé is. In fact, you feel a little out of place sitting in a chair that costs half of your monthly paycheck and staring at a menu that you once never would’ve been able to. Despite already being engaged to the love of your life, you’re not sure you’ll ever find a way to fit into the intricate setting that the Sohns have grown up in.

“What’s wrong?” Eric asks, seeing the glimmer in your eyes dissipate with your overthinking.

He reaches across the table to take your hands in his, running his thumb over your ring. He traces the lines of it, following the swirl pattern as if he were seeing it for the first time. As if he didn’t spend hours agonizing over what design to gift you, so sure that you would reject him if it wasn’t up to your liking.

(You would’ve said yes even if he proposed to you with a lollipop.)

“I feel like I don’t belong here,” you admit, your head hanging low as the embarrassment clouds your features.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, lacing them tightly. Eric is all too knowing of the nagging thoughts in your brain, telling you you’re undeserving of the man in front of you and the wealth that comes along with it. However, you’ve hit the jackpot in the fact that Eric is always ready to argue back with the devil on your shoulder, even if it’s three in the morning and you’re delirious from sleep or if you’re a little bit too tipsy and crying in his lap. Eric, for lack of better words, is always there for you. Even now, as he holds your hands and stares into your eyes as if you’re the only person in the universe, he is here for you.

“I’m going to eat that little voice in your head so it goes away,” he responds a moment later with finality, extremely serious.

The statement is so absurd and unexpected that it has you giggling, and you grip Eric’s fingers tighter as you lean forward and can’t find it in you to stop. All your previous tension disappears when you look into Eric’s eyes, filled with mirth and kindness.

“You’re crazy,” you voice through laughter, reaching for the wine glass to calm your jumbling nerves.

Eric just shakes his head, unable to hold back a smile that reflects your current predicament.

“Crazy for you, babe. Now stop worrying your pretty little head and enjoy your food, okay?”

And enjoy the food you do. The three-course meal followed by dessert has you clutching your stomach after, full and bloated from the amount of delicious food you’ve consumed. You can’t even bring yourself to take a couple more bites of the black forest delicacy that sits on your plate, but luckily, you have the universe to thank for the takeout box that now rests in Eric’s left hand.

His other hand holds the car keys, and as he clicks the unlock button, the Orange Corvette lights up from across the parking garage. Its bright color is exactly reminiscent of the man standing next to you, exuberant and dashing. You felt like a little kid the first time he picked you up in his car, extremely impressed with the interior neon lights he showed off to you in the earlier stages of your relationship. Now, as his fiancé, the car is something comfortable to you, having seen it too many times to count by this point.

He helps you into the front seat before getting in beside you, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the back of your headrest as he backs the car out. You’ll never admit this to him, but the view of him looking back and inching the car out is devilishly handsome to you, and you have to fight the warmth that rises to your cheeks.

Once he repositions the vehicle and drives forward, the hand that’s behind you now moves to your thigh. The shiny watch on his wrist glints in the moonlight, and he absentmindedly draws circles on your clothed skin to the beat of the song. It doesn’t help that it’s an R&B track, so every movement of his finger is slow and torturous, and every trace ignites fire against the cloth.

“Eric,” you start, watching as he pulls to a stop before the red light.

“Hm?” he responds, turning his head to face you.

You notice that he’s wearing a singular stud earring on his right ear. You can only pray that you’ll find some strength to survive the rest of this car ride because as soon as it’s over, you won’t let him see the light of day.

“How much longer?” you ask tentatively, like a little kid squirming in their seat.

He rolls his eyes, turning back to focus on the road. It doesn’t help though, because his side profile is just as alluring as his front.

“Couple more minutes, baby.”

True to his word, he exits the main road a few minutes later, driving up a dirt path unfamiliar to you. The road is slightly bumpy, and you’re a little tipsy from the wine so you shift around quite frequently, but Eric’s unwavering, strong grip on your thigh keeps you grounded. The more you stare at his hand, the more sexy you find his hand pressed against the silk you’re wearing.

You’re reconsidering your decision to spend the rest of your life with this ridiculously hot man when he pulls into a forest clearing.

“Are you going to murder me, Eric Sohn?” you tease as he parks the car, swiftly maneuvering the wheel.

You move to step out once he’s done, but he’s faster than you, and he opens the car door before you can even reach for the handle.

“If I wanted to murder you,” he says, holding your arm as you step out, “I would’ve already done so, my love.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you have little to be annoyed about as you survey your surroundings. The dark forest around you is a contrast to the vividness of the car, but nothing seems brighter than Eric’s smile at the moment and the twinkling stars around you.

Eric leads you to a clearing, his hand pressed against the small of your back. You peer over, fascinated at the realization that you can see the whole city from here. The twinkling lights of the bustling city below you are something of a dream, and as you look towards Eric, you can see the stars reflected in his eyes.

Minutes like these, where you’re not surrounded by extravagance, are when you truly feel your connection with Eric. Raw, unearthed, and simply pure, you feel like you’re stripped of all labels. You both are just insignificant specks in the universe, and he is truly just some guy to you in this moment, but you know wholeheartedly that this very guy is the one you truly love. You would never have it any other way.

The grin on Eric’s face is infectious as you face him with one of your own. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, clasping them together as his arms find their way around your waist.

“Found this place the other day,” he explains as if he could hear your thoughts, “I kinda regret not proposing to you here.”

“Don’t lie,” you mutter, knowing that he definitely does not regret whisking you away to his private condo in the mountains just to put a ring on your finger.

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. The cicadas chirp around you, and all is silent when he calms down except for your two breaths in unison. His gaze circulates from your eyes to your lips and then back to your eyes, and whatever triangle method he’s using is working because one second later, you lean in to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

He tastes like strawberries, and you smile against his lips remembering that you’d gifted him strawberry lip balm two days ago. Your man, your sexy, diligent man, following your orders to take care of his lips stirs butterflies in your stomach. The fact that you hold some kind of power over the Sohn family’s heir makes you feel a little dizzy, but your only response is to pull Eric closer and kiss him harder.

The sweetness of both the strawberry scent and the kiss fade as he presses back with just as fervor, adjusting his arms around you to pull you in tighter. The space between you feels unbearable, and despite the proximity between you two, the gap is still too big for your liking. You need him viscerally, every part of him on you as if the very concept of distance is poisonous and Eric is your antidote.

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling back with shallow breaths, “the car.”

You end up in the front seat of his car, the seat tilted backward and you in Eric’s lap. One of his knees holds you in place against your back, and his hands rest on your waist. The position is far too intimate that anyone walking by will know exactly what’s going on. Your kisses have turned heady, mirroring the darkness in his eyes and the way you clutch onto the front of his black shirt. You work on unbuttoning his shirt, but Eric distracts you with his tongue swiping across your lips and the way he softly bites when you protest. By some miracle, you finish moments later, and you run your hands down his skin. He shivers, and everything feels like pure electricity between you two the way his fingers press into your sides tighter.

(It will bruise tomorrow, but you don’t care. You’ll simply shrug on a shirt and try to fight a blush as Eric stares at you from the bed shirtless, a knowing grin on his face.)

His kisses trail down your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, finally finding a home in your collarbone, biting and sucking as if it was his favorite pastime. It probably is, with the way he kisses down your shoulder and tugs the strap of clothing down.

Your fingers trace his collarbone, and you hold his head in your hands as he looks up at you. He’s needy and restless, but he’ll always listen to you when you have something to say.

You may be an insignificant speck in the world, but in Eric’s eyes, you’re the whole universe.

“I love you,” you whisper.

It’s all you have to say before he flips you around, pressing you into the dip of the seat as he slides your clothing down. The air conditioning of the car and the ambient music bring goosebumps to your now exposed skin, but Eric makes everything disappear by resuming his previous ministrations.

He looks into your eyes before pressing a kiss right above your heart. It beats against your chest, heavy, and Eric knows it’s only for him. It will always be only for him.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, smiling against your skin.

“Forever and always.”

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nia-jul · 4 months

Text

WET CIGARETTES

Gojo Satoru, your prettiest customer, insists on ordering the most insane drinks possible. As a barista, it’s your duty to fullfill them.

alternate!universe, fluff, happy ending

(This is a long one guys 🙈)

——————————————————————

You love your job. The truth is, the people who romanticise working at a coffee shop were exactly right. Yes, the hours can be long, and the occasional Karen can turn what should be a five-minute interaction into a half an hour one. And sometimes you go home with burns from a hot coffee pot, or spills on your favourite trousers. But you love every part of your job.

Except for Gojo Satoru.

Your most troublesome customer. You know he goes to your university, because you’ve seen him wearing a hoodie with its logo on it. You assume you both have different majors, because you don’t cross paths at all.

But he comes to the shop every day without fail. And he orders the most complicated, diabetes-inducing drinks known to man. He strolls up to the counter, blinking those bright blue eyes at you, with his perfect smile and his hair that looks so soft to touch and starts rattling off his order.

Okay, it’s not the worst thing in the world. Gojo is easy on the eyes, and it’s quite funny to see how far he’ll take it. You’re not exactly sure if he even consumes the stuff he buys. Maybe he’s trying to impress you. Maybe he’s trying to annoy you. You think he succeeds more with the second option, but it’s fine. You like the little challenge everyday.

Today, you’re wiping down the counter when you see him appear behind it and begin drumming his fingers against it.

“Hi, sugar.”

You look up, unamused. He’s wearing a black compression shirt that hugs his muscles and grey sweatpants. He’s probably come back from the gym, judging by the sweat that sticks some strands of his white hair to his forehead. He looks good. Whatever.

“Gojo. What monstrosity will it be today?”

He hums under his breath. He rests his cheek on his palm. His skin is so clear. For all the coffee he drinks, at least.

“I would like… A single shot, 4 pumps sugar free peppermint, nonfat, extra hot, no foam, light whip stirred grande white mocha.”

Your mouth gapes. “Gojo. What? That’s not- what even is that?”

He laughs, loud and boyish. The shop is quite empty, so, you can take your time to mock his ridiculous request.

“I don’t know. Thought I’d try something different, you know?”

“You try something different everyday. I think this one wins the stupidest order yet.”

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. You know you like it. I bring some joy to the darkness that is your shift.” He pouts and leans forward.

You rolls your eyes. You turn and grab a cup to begin concocting his drink.

“Don’t call me that. And it doesn’t bring me joy. It does test my memory, though,” you pause, “How many pumps of peppermint was it?”

“Four. And what’s wrong with sweetheart?”

“I’m not your sweetheart, Gojo.”

He groans. He watches as you flit around behind the counter, going to steam the milk for his drink.

“Come on, what else am I supposed to call you? I don’t know your name.”

You point to the name tag pinned to your shirt.

“Yes you do.”

“That’s not your name.”

You nod and insist that it is. His eyebrows raise and he nods towards it.

“Your name is Brian?”

“Cute, right? I don’t like strangers using my real name, so they let me print a fake one.” You smile.

“It’s a shame, really. Brian suits you.” You stick your tongue out and Gojo grins.

The drink doesn’t take long. You make one of the fancy milk designs on the top, and slide it over to him.

“Here you go.”

He thanks you. He peers at the design at the top, eyeing the drink.

“I like this. You should learn how to draw my face on there.”

“Ah, yes. You’re right, that does sound like a great way to pass my time.” You nod sarcastically.

He sips the drink carefully. His nose scrunches and he sticks his tongue out.

“Oh, that is not good. At all.”

You laugh. You reach over and grab the drink, taking a swig. Gojo protests, but you can tell his effforts to get it back are half-assed. You wince, the warm peppermint drink sliding down your throat.

“Yeah, gross. How did you even come up with this?”

He shrugs, “They just come to me.” He nods at the cup in your hand, “You know, we basically just kissed.”

You snort, “You can keep dreaming, Gojo.”

“Oh, you’re definitely in my dreams, baby. All the dirty ones.”

Oh, he’s feeling brave today. You turn to hide the flush that dusts your cheeks. You wipe down the steamer.

“Baby is gross.”

“Tell me your name then.”

You point at the name tag on your shirt. Gojo groans and runs a hand through his hair. You glance down at the ignored drink on the counter.

“Gojo, you haven’t even touched your drink.”

He shrugs. “Oh, well. It’s not like I can’t pay for it.”

You hum under your breath. Rich people.

The shop starts filling up, and your manager pops his head around the door to tell you to get a move on.

“Sorry, Gojo. You gotta get a move on.”

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wave him off, sighing as he drops his drink in the trash.

——

The next day, Gojo walks in with someone else. A girl, short brown hair and an unlit cigarette in her mouth. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. Maybe she’s a girlfriend. Gojo seems awfully close to her, a smile gracing his lips as she says something to him.

You’re staring. You turn away quickly. It’s none of your business what he’s up to and you don’t care, anyway. Gojo could be married for all you care.

He bounds up to the front. Gojo has a way of taking up every space he’s in, and as he leans across the counter, he’s all you can see.

“Hey, cutie.”

“Hello. What can I do for you today?”

“Aw. No complaints. You like cutie?”

“Feels like something a 12 year old would call his discord girlfriend, but. Sure, let’s go with that.”

He laughs, but he straightens up quickly.

“Look, I’ve got no time for our cute banter today. I’ll have a Venti, triple-shot caramel macchiato, with three pumps of vanilla, two pumps of hazelnut, one pump of caramel, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and extra whipped cream on top.”

“No time for banter, but time for all of that.”

“Oh, and a mocha.”

You smile. “Who’s that normal order for?”

He points at the girl he came in with, who’s gone outside to smoke her cigarette.

“Shoko. Luckily for you, she likes normal people drinks.”

You turn to start making their drinks. Today’s order is much tamer than usual. It actually sounds like it might taste nice, and it’s sugary enough to satiate his sweet tooth. You wonder if he’ll ask that girl to try it for him.

“So. You got any plans today?” You say.

“Mhm. My friend and I are going shopping. She asked me to keep her company, but I think she likes my credit card’s presence more than mine.”

“Makes sense. At least she gets something out of the card.”

“Ha ha ha. Come on, she gets mean when she’s impatient.”

You shake your head, waiting for the milk to steam. “It takes as long as it takes.”

“Okay, Carla.”

“Wrong.”

“Bridget?”

You tell him he’s wrong again and laugh at his whining. You finish his drink off with an alarming amount of whip cream, to his request, and place it and the mocha on the counter.

“Done in record time.” You wink.

He tries it, and perks up.

“I’m impressed. This one actually tastes nice.”

He slides it over to you, and you take a sip.

“Yeah, you’re right. It is nice.” You say, incredulously.

“Can I have a sip?”

You look to the left and Gojo’s ‘friend’ has appeared. She smells a little like cigarettes but she’s so breathtakingly pretty that you don’t think anyone‘s really worried about that. She takes a drink before Gojo can protest, and she winces.

“God, it’s so sweet. You’ll die an early death if you keep going on like this.”

“Well, good thing it’s not for you.” He grabs it and passes her the mocha.

The girl looks over at you and smiles.

“Hey. I’m Shoko. It’s nice to meet you. Gojo doesn’t shut up about you.”

You tilt your head at the boy, who is looking away from the two of you, and coo.

“Aw, how sweet!” You awe, pressing a hand to your heart.

“He calls you Barista girl. Says you make the best drinks.”

You shrug. “I wouldn’t say best. I am the only one who will make his insane orders, though.”

“That’s true. He doesn’t even drink them half the time. Just throws them away the second he leaves. It’s like the only reason he comes here is so-“

“Okay! Okay, we’ve got to go.” Gojo claps his hands together, cutting off Shoko, and steering her away.

She grins, waving at you. She yells it was nice to meet you, and you say it back, much to Gojos dismay, and wonder what the real reason he comes here is.

——-

The next time Gojo comes in, he looks good. He’s wearing a black button up, the top few buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to show his forearms. There’s a silver chain around his neck, and his hair is done up in a way that looks effortless and prepared at the exact same time. He’s also holding a bouquet of pretty flowers, pink and white and perfect looking.

God. You move away before he notices you blatantly staring at him. It’s almost closing, and you’ve got ten minutes before you’re free to go. You should be annoyed at his presence. You and Choso, the guy you were working with tonight, had just cleaned up, and you know Gojo’s order would probably need every appliance in the building. Any other customer would be shunned away, a quick point at the clock.

But Gojo’s not any other customer. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

“Hey, Gojo.”

He smiles. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Your cheeks heat up. God, if only he wasn’t so attractive. It would be so much easier to act like you don’t care when he calls you all those things.

“You look nice. You going somewhere after this?”

“Mhm. I’m going on a date.”

You pause to where you’re emptying out the coffee pots. A date? He was seeing someone else after spending god knows how long flirting with you?

You shouldn’t be surprised. He’s never asked you out, and Gojo is attractive enough to be someone who doesn’t care about girls' feelings. You know you should’ve seen this coming. It probably was just a little fun he had everyday, joking around with the oblivious, head-over-heels barista who allowed him to act like a dick with his stupid coffee orders.

Whatever.

“That’s nice. What can I get for you? You need to hurry up though, because we’re closing soon.” Your voice is flat, and your hand rests on your hip.

“Uh. Just a coffee.”

You frown. “No obnoxious order today?”

“Nah. I’ve got places to be. And I need to be awake tonight, if you get my drift.” He winks and you scoff.

You turn and fill the coffee pot, a little more aggressively than normal. You unfortunately do get his drift. Before you can say anything in response, Choso comes out from the back.

Choso is cute. He looks intimidating, always monotoned and looking sleep-deprived, but he was a sweetheart. He always ties his hair into little buns, draws cute designs on top of the lattes, and always makes sure you don’t close alone. Plus, he looks good in an apron. You think you’d like him if it weren’t for an annoying blue-eyed boy and his stupid orders.

“You okay if I clock out?”

You turn to him and smile. “Yeah, I’ll lock up. You working tomorrow?”

Choso takes his apron off and drapes it over his shoulder. You turn to face him, effectively ignoring Gojo.

“Nope.”

“What? Choso, come on, I can’t work if you’re not there, it’s so boring!”

He laughs, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. It make the muscles in his arms stand out, and wow. Does he work out? Probably.

“You’ll be fine without me.”

“I won’t.” You pout.

“Goodbye.” He walks away, nodding at Gojo, who looks just peachy waiting for his coffee.

“So who’s that?”

You turn back to face him. “Choso. He works here.”

“Yeah, I figured. You like him?”

“Yeah. He’s great. My favourite coworker.”

Gojo nods slowly. A weird sort of quiet settles over you two. A part of you wants to ask who’s he’s going on a date with, but you respect yourself too much for that.

“What time do you get off?” He speaks up.

You pause slightly. “Me?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow. “No, the other barista behind the counter. Yes, you.”

“Oh. I’m done in ten.”

“Okay, good. Our reservation is in half an hour, so we should make it.”

The coffee pot whirs to let you know it’s ready. Instead, you keep staring at Gojo, who’s looks all too serious for somebody speaking nonsense.

“What?”

“It’s a nice place, don’t worry. Thought I’d splurge, to impress you. These are for you, by the way.” He thrusts the flowers towards you.

“I- What? Gojo, what’s going on?” You laugh, a little hysterical, confused as to what the hell is happening.

He grins. He walks right over to the you, leaning over the counter, so you’re a couple inches away from each other.

“You really think I’d ask anybody else out? I’ve been asking for these stupid orders at for weeks now just to throw them out so I could talk to you, that wasn’t a hint?”

“Yeah, but I just. I don’t know, I thought you were just messing around!”

“Are you really that clueless?”

“Hey! You-“ You stop for a second.

You take the apron from around your neck and throw it behind you into the office. You cross your arms and you nearly laugh at the nervous look that crosses his face.

“Did you make a reservation and dress yourself up for a date you didn’t even ask me to?”

Gojo scratches the back of his head. “I-“

“And then come in here and just tell me when it’s happening, without even giving me time to prepare myself?”

“I- Barista girl, I can explain.” He clasps his hands together.

“And you still don’t even know my name.”

He sighs. “The mystery is part of the fun, babe.”

You smile slightly. You have no idea what went through his head, but it’s cute he tried so hard. Even if it was a little weird.

“What if I had plans tonight, huh?”

Gojo shrugs. “I was hoping you’d cancel them for me.”

“And if I didn’t?”

“Not too sure. Maybe throw the coffee I’m still waiting for in your face?”

You perk up suddenly, remembering the pot that was still bubbling behind you. You take a cup and fill it for him, fit it with a lid and give it to him.

“So. Are you going to ask me out properly?”

He nods. His face is determined and he grabs the flowers from your hands. He takes two steps back and he walks forward.

“Barista girl, will you do me the honours of going on a date with me tonight?”

You frown, sighing dramatically, “I don’t know. I’ve had such a long shift. I’m tired.”

Gojo grabs your hands, pulling you towards him. The counter gets in the way, but you don’t think he cares. The two of you are still close enough that if you moved a couple inches forwards you’d be kissing. He smells like something expensive, and it overwhelms your senses. His lips quirk up in a little smirk, and you think your skin is buzzing where he’s touching you.

“I’m sure I can help wake you up, baby. You just gotta say yes.”

“I- I kinda look like shit, though.” You whisper.

“Don’t say that, you look beautiful.”

You know you don’t. Your hair is being held up poorly by a claw clip, random strands falling out of it. Your mascara is slightly smudged under your eyes, and there’s a lovely new coffee stain on the shirt you're wearing, courtesy of Choso knocking into you before you got a chance to put your apron on.

But he’s looking right at you like you’re the most incredible thing that he’s ever laid his eyes on that you feel like you might actually believe him.

“Okay. Okay, fine. If you let me go home and freshen up. Put a dress on, or something.”

“Oh, I can get behind that.”

You snort a laugh, stepping back. The nervousness from before is gone, and he’s grinning at you excitedly. He waits the few minutes it takes you to lock up, and holds his arm out for you to take while he walks you to his car.

It’s seven in the evening and the sun is just starting to set. The sky is beginning to turn, seeping from blue to orange to pink, and the light is catching off Gojos face. He’s speaking animatedly as he talks about the restaurant he’s taking you too, oblivious to your staring. He’s planned every last detail, somehow remembering when you said that you loved Asian food about a month ago.

You don’t really know much about Gojo. You do know enough to say that he is so sweet it makes your teeth rot.

You say your name, then, softly enough that he nearly misses it. He stops mid sentence and turns to you.

“Is that your name?”

You nod.

“You have a very pretty name.”

You smile. “Thank you.”

He nods slowly. “You can call me Satoru, by the way.”

“Okay, Satoru.” The name feels nice on your tongue.

He groans when you say it, hand reaching up to cup your face.

“God, it sounds so beautiful when you say it. It’d sound even better if you were screaming it, though.”

You roll your eyes, face a fiery red, and let a laughing Satoru lead you into his car.

——————————————————————

AUTHORS NOTE

Gojo satoru the man that u r.. also that cosplayer is EXACTLY how I envision him in my brain.. so obsessed..

again, any requests r welcome! (I’m literally lost for ideas)

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #fluff #jjk fluff #oneshot

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tonkatsubowl · 8 months

Text

false love iii.

jing yuan x fem!reader

nsfw themes (cursing and stuff i think. mentions of domestic abuse and self harm. mentions of suicide. no, jing yuan aint hurting u bb girl). read at your own risk. english isn’t my first language, so please don’t mind the grammatical errors. (っ◞‸◟ c)

⪩ arranged marriage. the reader and jing yuan have an arranged marriage and she is stuck, disliking every moment of it, until…

TERM DIRECTORY ◖y/n: your name ◖e/c: eye color ◖h/c: hair color ◖l/n: last name

requested tags ➽ @mythicalamphitrite @20forty9

part one. / part two. / part four. / part five. / part six. / part seven.

"⸻wait, how much did he say he was going to pay us?"

"almost an entire fortune. enough for me to bed many women, to purchase a few homes..."

"c'mon, man. be specific. like how many credits?"

"eh. a million."

"wh⸻...a...a-a million!? you're crazy!? just to sell this girl off or even kill her?"

"i wasn't gonna plan on killing her...yet. i was planning on having my own fun with her. then i was gonna carry out the murder. he said he wanted her head or something."

"eh, i don't blame you for the fun part. she's got a good lookin' body. beautiful too. but you sure you can lop her head off?"

"c'mon, it's just a head you gotta lop off."

"damn, dude, sounds like you did this shit before..."

two voices. two unfamiliar voices. two voices that belonged to men that you didn't recognize at all. you were unable to really see anything, nor did you have the ability to speak. but you were listening quietly.

you were blindfolded and a cloth was wrapped over your mouth. your hands were tied behind your back, rendering you useless to do anything. you didn't know where you were at, but you had woken up from a deep slumber. as you listened, you took notes in your head...

selling you...murder. assaulting you. then being paid by a man of great fortune. you were scared, definitely. but you were not surprised by the doom you were facing at this very moment. you were expecting to face some sort of monstrosity in your life one way or another. now here you are.

"she still asleep over there?" you hear one of the voices say.

you hear one of them turn, the shuffle of their clothing was a clear indication for it. "yeah. seems so. the drug you gave her is a hard ass one, huh?"

"yeah, it should knock her out for a while."

"man, take off the blindfold off of her. i wanna see what she actually looks like."

that's when you froze in place, hearing them come closer to you as their footsteps approached you. you held your breath, feeling their measly large hands come forward to remove the blindfold that concealed your beautiful eyes. then, upon the removal of the fabric, you saw the world again... though you didn't know where you were at, really. you saw two men. both of them were dressed in casual attire, and it was scarily enough that they looked like average xianzhou citizens. but the look on their eyes revealed nothing but pure cruelty and evil intent.

"oh, you are awake." one of them cooed to you as he purred. his disgusting hand lifting towards your chin, raising your head with the curl of his index finger. "morning, beautiful." his raunchy breath hit your face, and how badly you wanted to smack him across the face with a brick. but you couldn't.

the drug had caused you to become weak, but for some reason...there was something stirring inside of you. something telling you not to give up, despite the troubles and dangers that lead you upon this path.

"we're gonna have some fun soon, beautiful," the stranger licked his lips, his breath reeking of heavy liquor and cigarettes. "your little daddy paid us to get rid of you."

your father...paid them?

your eyes were dull, solemn...lifeless and dead. it was as though you were an empty doll with no soul residing within yourself. unfortunately, you were used to this sort of...treatment. being used, hit...why haven't you just died yet? you weren't surprised, either.

...but this feeling inside of you...it still continued to stir. something about this situation...something about you. something that you felt within was blossoming.

...no. i don't want to die like this. i don't want to die. not when i just now became free.

it was like the thought of jing yuan had snapped you back to reality, your eyes now glimmering with some sort of ray of hope. your eyes brightened, as though gaining hope once more. you hear jing yuan's voice repeating back in your head, as though reminding you of your new purpose in life. your new freedom, the freedom that you deserved.

"i want to make it known to you that i want you to live comfortably here and freely. my home is now your home, y/n."

"alright, little lady. lemme just," the criminal extended both hands, his fingers grabby at your clothing, "get rid of this little piece of thing and we'll have some⸻"

gaining momentum in your legs, you force yourself up, headbutting into the man's head. you hit directly at his nose, causing blood to sputter from his nostrils and for him to stumble back.

"you little⸻you little bitch!"

his ally extended a hand towards you, grabbing you by the chin. this was mistake on his end, considering he basically let loose of the cloth that went around your mouth. using this as an opportunity, you bit at his hand, teeth biting and digging into his flesh. the taste of his own blood in your mouth... suddenly, you had a burst of energy inside of you.

you can't die.

you can't die here. not when you had a future with jing yuan to live for, now! this freedom, this...

"garg⸻! you bitch!" retracting his arm back, one of the criminals retrieved a knife from himself. "we're gonna teach you a fuckin' lesson now, you cunt!"

your eyes froze, lingering on the knife...but you can't just freeze in fear, anymore. it was time for you to run. that was when you bolted off in the opposite direction, your hands still tied around your back. your heart was aching, racing, your eyes were wide. you never felt this much energy in your legs before. never had you ever felt this unfamiliar burst of energy that allowed you to...want to live.

jing yuan...was this your doing? where were you?

unfortunately, you felt yourself fall when a heavy weight was shifted upon you, crushing you against the pavement of the ground. you cried in pain as you fell, feeling one of the bones in your shoulder breaking. you panicked, looking to the side, seeing the criminal's wide face and the blood that oozed from his nose.

"damn right we're gonna teach you a fucking lesson." that was when he grabbed the back of your clothing.

"stop⸻!" you shut your eyes tightly, embracing the worst of it all...

...until⸻

"gyaaa!" the sound of blood and flesh being torn had filled your ears instead. you felt the weight from your back basically relief itself from your body. you heard a loud 'thud!', and your eyes slowly open...

you were shaking. you were breathing uncontrollably. you couldn't think. you were panicking. your mind was on fight or flight mode.

"what the...the general!?" you hear one of the criminals say in the background, then some noises in regards to conflict.

"fuck⸻fuck! you little⸻" the sound of ice piercing into one's flesh were bliss to your ears, but you were unable to process anything at this very moment.

your eyes came to a soft close, and your body was carefully scooped into a pair of strong arms. you were breathing, and the voice of your familiar husband was murmured into your ear,

"i'm sorry for taking so long, y/n. you're safe now."

you were losing the sense of your surroundings. you barely felt his nose nuzzle into your cranium as he held you close to his chest.

then, another set of footsteps...lighter ones. these footsteps stop at your side, introducing yanqing's voice. "general! they're ready to be taken in custody, however one of them is..."

"that's fine," jing yuan replied, "being taken in prisoner is too much of a blessing for them. killing them, granting them death is something that wouldn't even be enough for them. they deserve a fate much more cruel than just imprisonment and death. i pray that the aeons will punish them further."

"...i see. hm. how is lady y/n doing? her shoulder... it's..."

"she's alive and well, besides her shoulder," jing yuan said, "yanqing. prepare the infirmary immediately."

"yes sir."

you were exhausted, incredibly so. everything on your body hurt, especially your shoulder. it felt like something was burning, something was on fire—but once your adrenaline had died out, the rest of your body began to hurt... and god, this was the price for survival, wasn't it?

pain in your body was almost unbearable. but luckily, it died out immediately when you had opened your eyes... there were nurses nearby working their best to recover you. one nurse in particular was speaking to you in a soothing voice, but you couldn't make out the words. the others were changing your bandages, and the others were bringing you a wet towel, placing it over your head.

"....—fever. she........ feve—"

... huh? who had a fever?

oh, that's when you realized that the nurses were talking about you. that was the moment when everything had hit you immediately.

you were struggling to breathe. your body felt hot. yet, you were so cold. you were practically shivering under the blankets. luckily enough, you were in safe and good hands.

your vision was still a blur as you were still waking up. you recognized a familiar, ash-blonde—silver male approaching you.

... jing yuan?

you were too exhausted to even try to focus. your eyes came to a close again, forcing you to rest once more...

"how is she?" yanqing asked jing yuan as he walked up towards his general's side, his eyes peeling towards your sleeping body.

"y/n's well. it seems she's caught a fever, as well. i feel terrible for this situation, truth to be told..."

"i cant... exactly blame you for feeling that, general. you both were recently wed, and now..."

jing yuan looked towards his lieutenant, "mm. how was the interrogation?"

"well, he was afraid enough to reveal the truth to why y/n was captured. according to his testimony, y/n's father had paid them to sell her away, or to get rid of her entirely. he admitted that his friend was going to... well, bed her."

there was a sour look on jing yuan's face.

"...her father... selling her? but the marriage practically allowed her to be away from her family. why did he want to hire these men to kill her?"

yanqing shook his head. "that, i am unsure, sir. i had asked him the same question, and he did not know. there was no lie to his words during the interrogation. a man who fears for his life would never lie."

jing yuan was silent. "... yanqing. please remain by her side closely when i cannot be around her physically. something about this situation irks me, and i have no choice but to interrogate this matter... discreetly."

yanqing nods, kneeling respectfully. "yes, general."

#sorry this was short. i like cliff hangers #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail jing yuan

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ebaylee422 · 1 year

Text

Decking the Halls

Steve Harrington X Girlfriend!reader

Author’s Note: Angst to cute sex, I’m not sorry. This is post Season 3, pre Season 4. I just love being angsty. I also really needed to clear my drafts soooo X-mas in March everyone!

Summary: Stockings aren’t the only things being stuffed this Christmas season. Steve has never decorated for Christmas, he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to ruin your sprit by avoiding you. Don’t worry though, he shows you just how appreciative he is after.

Characters: Steve Harrington, Girlfriend reader, mentions of shitty parents and the rest of the ST nuggets. Best Friend Robin Buckley!!

Warnings/Tags: Smut (Minors DNI!!!) abandonment issues? as an intro, p in v sex, marking kink, praise kink, fem oral (receiving). breeding?

Word Count: 3k

Part One/?

You had tried everything to get Steve into the Christmas spirit: buying decorations for your apartment, getting matching pj’s, going to watch the lights in Indianapolis, watching Christmas movies, the Ice-Skating was most regrettable because you fell forward and knocked your teeth hard enough to bleed. Even planning a white elephant with him and his friends, sharing hot cocoa and warmth of your space heater. What you didn’t know is as soon as he left your place he was greeted by his parents' empty house. Decorated from some stupid trendy catalog his mother only glanced at before swiping a credit card. His father, not even home long enough to realize the tinsel monstrosity within the living room. The presents underneath were fake, they stopped being real when his father told him to grow up. That Santa wasn’t real, saying he needed to start giving instead of hoping for some joy from a fat man each holiday season. So that’s exactly what he did, the first Christmas he’d enjoyed in a long time was on Christmas of 83’, when he was with Nancy. They’d gotten each other meaningful gifts, it was the happiest Christmas he thought he’d ever had. Even if he went home unable to look at his pool outside for too long knowing his friend had died. Even if there were disgusting monsters trying to eat his friends when they had the chance. How horrible humans were in comparison, like the Russians nearly beating him to death at Starcourt. Instead of celebrating what he was thankful for, he felt immense guilt every holiday. He’d confided in you once about his survivor's guilt, as you had called it a couple months ago during an intense flashback. You’d comfort him, make sure he wasn’t alone. He didn’t want to be anyone’s burden, Steve knew you were worried about him it would show whenever he ‘had’ to leave for work or Robin’s, or get clothes from his place.

It all came to a standstill when you’d asked him if he would come pick a Christmas Tree with you. Wanting to have it up before the kids came over, finish decking-the-halls you’d told him. Only Steve didn’t know what picking out a Christmas Tree was, sure it’s self explanatory but what if he made a fool of himself. With his pretty rich boy ‘I’ve never had to pick one out’, it seemed too intimate. Sure you’d bared your body-mind-and-soul to him, but wanting to do something so domestic together like picking out a Christmas Tree. For your first Christmas together as a couple, it was scary for him. So instead of being a Scrooge so he could work on his feelings, he faked an illness even going as far as calling out sick today. Keith hadn’t been too happy but chopped it up to Steve sucking too much face on the job and gave him the day anyway. And he was back to square one, an empty ugly house with none of your warmth. People would think his middle name was self-sabotage, especially when that door-bell rang. He got up from his cocoon from the coach with a groan, an aching shooting up to his spine when his socked feet hit the freezing hardwood. Shined and renewed for the inevitable party his parents would throw this Christmas Eve for work friends, where they forgot they even had a son. He stopped dead in his tracks shaking the sleep from his eyes when they were met with yours, holding a tote bag while shaking the light dusty of snow off your figure. It melted into your skin leaving you shiny with the dew, nose and ears kissed pink while your chin and neck were tucked tightly with the collar of your coat and scarf. You smiled at him as he studied your form, like an angel sent just for him. He was bundled up in simple joggers, thick wool socks and heavy blanket around his shoulders worn like a cape tucked around his body, but shirtless still despite it being nearly as cold inside as it is outside. Shaking your body of the remaining snow, laying the tote bag of groceries and sick necessities you’d brought over on the stairs so you could slide out of your heavy snow covered boots.

“Hi baby, how r’ you feeling?” you asked him with a voice full of sticky sweetness and adoration. His face changed in that moment from shock to guilty, you felt the change floating in the air like oil through water.

“What are you doing here?” He asked louder than either of you had expected, causing you to turn his way fully as you began to undo the ties of your coat.

“I came to check on you, bring you some-”

“Why?” He scoffed, tucking the blanket to cover himself from the breezing air flow of the open hall. You were wearing a red corduroy skirt, with black stocking underneath and a cream sweater that didn’t even compare to how soft your hair was laid across your shoulders. You looked at him like he hung up the stars, even though you were the brightest thing about his life.

“Robin called me worried about you saying you called out because you were sick. So I canceled the tree plans to come check on you because you didn’t call me. I even whipped up some Chicken and Rice soup and scrunched up a couple medicines.”

“You shouldn’t have done that, I’m fine Y/N. You should go get your tree and I’ll see you on Friday like you planned.” he brushed off your kindness,

“Well I wanted to take care of you.” you told him shyly, "You haven't been around as often."

“Okay thanks.” he shook his head, body and tone still uncomfortable and unmatched of your own tenderness.

“Do you not want me here or something?” You scoffed with affection grabbing the bag from the stairs, stepping in front of him giddy with untamable affection.

“No.” He answered quickly and when your face dropped, his own heart went with it when you backed away from him. “No, I mean yes but not right now. I’m just-”

“It’s fine, Steve." You cut him off, turning away and grabbing your stuff. "I get it, I’m sorry I could’ve called.” he stopped you putting out his hand as an olive branch. You took it without hesitation, sniffling away the tears that built up for weeks of you arguing and avoiding each other.

“Don’t you dare apologize, especially to me.” He took your reddened cheeks in his hands as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “I’m just being an idiot, I’m sorry but I’m not even sick so you doing all this nice shit over-”

“I know you’re not sick, Steve. You’re a terrible faker.” You said factually, with a teasing tone. Still not looking at him but rather at your wiggling toes against the shiny floor.

“Oh really now? Robin didn’t tell you anything.”

“Well the strange, ‘Steve wanted my shift the same day he always has off’ the one day I could go tree picking with you. Then calling out and claiming illness, and not calling me is pretty obvious.” You let the bag fall again, his shoulders relaxed as you tugged on the length of his blanket. “Are you breaking up with me?” you asked with furrowed brows and a whimper to your voice.

“No!” Steve yelled, “No never no, I-I love you so much. You are my favorite everything Y/N.” He wrapped you both in the blanket tugging you flush against him. “I just have a hard time with the holidays, I don’t really know what to do with myself. I didn’t want to be embarrassed, it was a lot of pressure.” You both held each other silently letting the fear wash over both of you, until you giggled into his neck.

“I love you, Steve. Honestly, just talking to me would’ve saved us both a headache.” He sighed heavy as he wrapped his arms tighter around you, head resting on your chin.

“Jeez, what are we gonna do with me?” he whispered into your scalp, the fluffy hair on his chest tickling your cheek as you were held by his heart.

“I can think of one.” You pursed your lips, closing your eyes with your chin held high awaiting a kiss. He obliged you immediately, cupping your cheeks in his hands to accurately press his lips to yours. His hands were freezing, sending a shiver and gasp involuntarily out of you. Steve took the opportunity to lick into your mouth, tasting-ly. Pulling back before you could reciprocate, you whined gripping his biceps accidentally pushing off his blanket.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, nose brushing against yours.

"I didn't mean to pressure you, you just seem so sad."

"You make me happy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you could meet me in an ice cream shop above a secret Russian base. While enjoying strawberry more than chocolate ice cream and you'll still make me happy."

"Well, if our circumstances of meeting are the worst part of the relationship, I think that's a pretty good incentive to making better more normal memories, yeah?"

"Maybe." He kissed the tip of your still pink nose.

"Maybe, we could go back to my place? It's always freezing here." You added with a shiver making the hairs on your arms stand up.

"Not when you're here. Just stay here a second longer." His lips moved with their own incentive. It didn't take much convincing on either of your parts before you were upstairs in his room. A path of clothes thrown haphazardly off of each other through broken giggles and soft kisses, until your just in under clothes. He holds you to him as he opens the door to his room, and your feet barely touch the floor as he twirls the two of you around. Bringing you down with him as he falls backward on the bed with a thud. Kissing you with fondness, sweet like the honey color of his eyes. You loved him so much it hurt like the side pains after laughing so hard you teared up. Like when you realize that magic might not be real but people were and kindness. Kindness and compassion were the real magic. People found a reason to be with each other, even if it was once a year. Steve never had that. Everything in his life was transactional, Christmas, school, his parents, most other relationships. Those few closet to him probably haven't ever seen this side either. The checkered boy room with little to no traces of living aside from Steve's nightstand with Polaroids of everyone scattered about. A bin in his closet kept hidden away where he'd kept his Scoops Ahoy name tag, a letter from a pen-pal in sixth grade, ticket stubs of every drive in movie. Some more Polaroids for his eyes only you'd given him after you first started dating, and he'd left his shirt in your room. Even as you lay on top of him now, kisses sucked into your neck, his strong hands massaging your sides in worship. You couldn't help what words came out next.

"Come with me." You begged him breathlessly opening your eyes to see his lips swollen and slick, hair haloed and shaggy around his face and sheets. Like melting caramel against the ugly grey and navy bedding.

"Already babe, I haven't even touched you." He mumbled rocking his pelvis into yours, forcing your legs to accommodate him more with a thigh on either side of his hips. You sat up taller straddling him, a pout etched into your face.

"No, I mean. Come home with me, lets live together. I'll get rid of things you can bring whatever you want, I can dip into my tuition nest egg and buy whatever we need for the apartment. Make it yours too, or we can find another one that you like better. I just want you all to myself." He sat up holding onto your waist so you didn't fall, making you squeak with the shift in position. Your heart sank as his eyes were so wide they could've jumped out of his skull.

“What?” he asked as his breath caught in his throat, a pure swell of undoubtable happiness warming him from the tip of his nose down to his sock covered feet.

“It’s just, I wasn’t lying Stevie. I wanna take care of you, you give so much to every-” He kissed you, desperately. Teeth clashing and tongues forming together making you dizzy enough to loose balance upright on your knees. Pulling back to gasp for air, a string of spit connecting you to him. He wiped it away, tucking his head into your chest.

“You’re perfect. I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“Even picking out a Christmas Tree with me?”

“I will grow you a damn Christmas Tree, even better I’ll get the kids to help me chop down one in my backyard!”

“Stevie! That’s dangerous.”

“Well, sweets.

Danger.

Is.

My middle name.” He trailed four kisses down your body, stopping just shy of your covered mound. Hooking his fingers under the band of your underwear, biting your hip making you buck up long enough for him to shimmy them off your legs.

“I thought your middle name was Alexander?”

“You won’t your own name once I’m done with you.” He said sultry, kneeling at the foot of the bed. Yanking your ankles to bring you closer to his mouth, spreading your legs wide and over his shoulders. You were beautiful, regardless what you were doing but letting him take care of you. Make you feel good and be vulnerable, made his head spin. Your lips were sticky with arousal, he could smell your sweet nectar begging for him to taste you. Marks still slightly visible from last time, he started there sucking and biting the mailable flesh.

“Stevie, please-” You cried out, hands trying to find purchase with his. He stopped sucking a bruise, eyes blown wide when he found yours. Locking your hands to your sides,

“Your so sweet, baby. Asking so nicely.” He chastely kissed on your hood, tongue licking underneath to wet and flick at your clit. You groaned and threw you head back, “So sweet, baby. Keep your legs open for me. I have a lot of apologizing to do down here.”

“Stevie, no I want you. Please.” You writhed on the bed trying to keep your legs spread for him, he blew cool air at your entrance causing you to clench around nothing. You body craved to be filled, senses overwhelmed of one thing: Steve, Steve, Steve!

“Just wanna warm you up, we have all the time in the world sweets. Wanna wreck this bed before leaving.” He was antagonizing you, teasing with his pretty words and slightly movements you couldn’t even respond him. He licked a line from your entrance to your clit, groaning at your taste. Hips colliding with the end of his bed to relieve pressure as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Rolling the bud with his tongue, your nail dug into his knuckles as you shook with ecstasy.

“ ‘S so good, Stevie. Don’t stop-” You were so pent up from earlier all it took was a few more rolls of his tongue against you and for you to fall apart. Concentrating on keeping your legs open for him, as he licked you clean. Nudging his nose against your sensitive clit, he let go of one of your hands tangling it in his hair.

“Hold it out of my face, baby. I want one more before I cum inside you.” He coated his fingers with your release, slowly sliding in one as his tongue still fucked into you. You couldn’t help rocking your hips against his face when he added another finger inside you. Scissoring, stretching you and rubbing against your spongy spot. You tugged at his locks when he came back up to suck at your clit again, you didn’t even notice the heat break in your belly until you gushed and clenched around his fingers. You pushed at his forehead from sensitivity, barely able to catch your breath when you pulled him up to kiss you. lips and chins dripping of you. Trailing your nails down his soft tummy following the happy trail underneath his boxers, you met him halfway stroking his thick cock with your slick. Still coating his hand, pre-cum dripping from his tip making the sounds completely pornographic.

“ ‘m not gonna last baby, want you so bad.” He whispered against your lips, breathing heavy with a sheen of sweat layering you both in the smell of sex.

“Need you too, wanted you ages ago.” You sassed, making him laugh against your cheek as he stood. You wrapped your legs around his waist, his cock twitched when it brushed against the inside of your thigh.

“You gotta big mouth on you, sweet girl.”

“You better do something about it, Harrington.” With a roguish grin he ran his length over your clit once before pushing ever so slightly inside. Taking your breaths away, you were the girl and only girl who could take Steve’s fat cock completely. He just has to ease you into it, inch by inch until his hip bone grazed the back of your thighs. Steve stood tall and far enough away you couldn’t kiss him from where you were sprawled out under him. You pulled and squeezed at your breasts still contained by your bra. His cock glistening with your slick as he pulled his hips back, then pushing deeper inside his sack pressed tight against your ass. Steve nearly loss his balance when you clenched around him, putting his hands under your knees. Folding you in half made it feel like he was in your throat, he leaned over you the pressure of his body as he set a ruthless pace set flames in your abdomen. Pounding his cock into you over and over again moaning out praises as he bullied all the way to your cervix. Punching breaths out of you watching as your tits bounced, you had enough pulling him fully on top you. Hands indenting his shoulders as your hips met his, clit pulsing and with need.

“You feel so good. Shit, shit- I’m cumming, cumming inside.” Steve’s core tighten as he ran two finger over your clit, heat erupted across your body. You milked Steve dry, his warm seed and your three orgasms dripping from each others groin. You pulled him on top of you, comforted by his weight on you as his cock softened inside you.

“Do you really want too?” You asked in the post orgasm bliss, running a hair through his now tangled locks. “I don’t want to trap you with amazing sex and joy but it’s definitely a perk.” Steve rose onto his elbows, still seated inside you. Brushing the hair out of your face, with softness.

“I’m sure we can wreck this bed a lot more than just cum stains.” Pushing at his chest, he pulled out of you gently. Scurrying to his bathroom where you listened as he turned on the faucet in the shower. Sitting up, he came back with all his glory. Hand raised for you to take, the same olive branch you’d given him at Starcourt. All this time. “I can’t wait to spend Christmas in our home, together.”

You’d never been so excited to spend the holidays with anyone else.

Masterlist

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things season 3 #oneshot #no minors allowed #reader insert #tis the season #holiday themed

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astraariel · 9 months

Text

you belong with me

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you're in love with Eddie, but he has eyes for Chrissy.

word count: 7.1K

warnings: none!

tags: based on "you belong with me" by taylor swift; no upside down!au; childhood friends to lovers; pining; not actually unrequited love; slight angst; fluff; chrissy's a sweetheart

author's note: for some reason my hyperfixation for eddie resurfaced so lol yeah this is what this is. excuse the grammar mistakes, enjoy ♡

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The trailer park was quiet except for the murmurs and soft noises that the residents made whilst partaking in their nighttime routines.

The soft ambiance provided comforting background noise as you made your way over to Eddie’s trailer, you were excited to see what movie he had picked from the Family Video tonight.

Eddie and you had made it a tradition to go over to each other’s houses and watch a shitty horror movie while eating pizza to critique said shitty movie.

This week it was Eddie’s turn to host.

You first met Eddie when you were eight. You had gotten home from school for the day, your mom inside fixing up dinner whilst you played with your jump rope outside. You remember the sun burning down on you but that didn’t deter you from continuing your time for outside playtime. You had been on your twentieth jump with your pink jump rope when a truck pulled up to the trailer beside yours. Your curious eight-year-old self’s attention diverted to the mysterious boy hopping out of the pickup truck. His denim overalls were loose on him, a strap was unbuttoned showcasing his white ribbed shirt underneath. His gaze met yours, and before you could look away, he offered you a crooked smile, wanna see a trick? You quickly nodded and watched him dash over toward you, his hand had retreated into his pocket and pulled out a deck of cards.

Later at dinner, your mom mentioned how the new boy, Eddie, had moved in with his uncle and was going to be your new neighbor. “He’s a little older, but why don’t you play with him after school, honey?”

Funny to think years later that some silly card trick is what caused you two to be inseparable.

The door swings open before you even make it up the short steps. “You know I've told you multiple times you can just walk in, right? I never lock the door.”

Your eyes skim over Eddie’s bare arm that was extended, your eyes glance over his recent addition of tattoos that peeked from his sleeves. “Yeah, and I've told you multiple times that that is a safety problem.” You waved a finger in front of Eddie as he swatted it away with a scoff.

The familiar home of Eddie and Wayne’s trailer met your eyes as you slipped your shoes off; Wayne’s copious mugs displayed on the walls always grabbed your attention when you walked into the trailer. They offered a sense of home that you loved so much.

Eddie had gone to his room to fetch the VHS of his movie pick while you busied yourself with grabbing the pizza menu and walking over to the phone to place the order.

“What do you want, just pepperoni? Or do you want something else - and don't you dare say pineapple.” You call over to him while leaning on the table holding the phone in your hand.

Eddie’s curly hair appears in the hall as he makes his way toward you, exaggeratedly sighing “Fine, just pepperoni.”

He saunters off to the TV before shouting back, requesting garlic bread while fiddling with the VHS.

You quickly order the food and walk over to the couch where Eddie was sitting waiting for you so he could play the movie.

“What monstrosity have you picked for us today, Munson?”

♡‧₊˚

The sound of students chattering with each other filled your ears as you were rummaging through your locker.

Your usual attendance of watching the guys play during their band practice was missed Saturday due to your mom requiring you to run errands all weekend so you haven't seen Eddie since Friday.

Meaning you left Eddie to his own devices for far too long and you're about to unknowingly pay the price.

“Jesus Christ!”

Speak of the devil.

The sound of your locker closing was muffled by the loud shriek that came out of your mouth.

“Eddie, how many times have I told you not to scare me like that?” You sputter out quickly whilst holding a hand up to your chest.

Eddie offers you a sheepish smile, “Sorry, princess, I was just too excited to see you.”

Your heart flutters slightly at the statement.

The whole “falling for your best friend trope” was a dumb cliche. In the early years of your friendship with Eddie, your mom would make offhand comments about how “oh you two are so cute together” and “you are both so going to fall in love with each other, just watch.” Your kid self always scrunched your nose in disgust and had you turning your head in the opposite direction. But you weren’t sure when the look of disgust turned into you turning your face to hide the blush that was settling on your cheeks.

And yeah so what if you knew that Eddie Munson drank his coffee with an insane amount of creamer and sugar and how he would never admit it, but that he had a soft spot for ABBA. How he gets this one specific look on his face whenever he’s telling you about the new campaign he’s currently working on; how his eyes glow with excitement just reciting all the things he’s planning on introducing and adding for the guys. That he smiles so wide you can’t help to notice the dimples he has and how they just fit his face. How you want to just kiss him all over and just constantly wish to see him happy and smiling.

Yeah, you’re totally in love with your best friend.

“So… I was thinking over the weekend.”

“Oh, that’s never good.”

He ignores your comment by rolling his eyes playfully. “I was thinking that I have been in this hell hole for far too long. And I haven’t done anything memorable.”

You send a confused look at Eddie, “What about how you have weekly lectures on the lunch tables in the cafeteria, or how you helped raise the drama club funding due to badgering Principal Higgins constantly for a month.” Beckoning for him to explain, you begin to walk to class.

He rolls his eyes again, “Okay, Miss Know-It-All, I meant more…you know.”

“No I don’t know, Eddie.”

He hesitates slightly before continuing “Well, I was talking to the guys and well they think I’m insane but you won't, right?” His wide eyes look over at you expectantly.

“I guess that depends on what you’re about to say.” you tease.

He was nervous, you noted. He wouldn't meet your eyes as he begins to fidget under your stare.

He scratches his head before saying, “I'm gonna ask Chrissy to prom.”

You stop walking, your head spinning to Eddie’s. Your eyes were wide open, which were shifting between his own in disbelief. People walked around you but not without complaining and calling out “Watch out” but you couldn't care less about what was happening around you. Your mind was reeling; it was attempting to decipher whether or not he was telling a joke or not.

He wasn’t.

Fixing your composure you look forward and keep walking. “Isn’t prom in two weeks, that’s kinda a short notice.” You attempt to keep your voice as neutral as possible.

You had known about Eddie’s crush on Chrissy Cunningham since middle school. It had been during the talent show, Eddie had come after you to gush about how she had looked so pretty waving her pom poms in the air that night. Chrissy had done some cheer routine which had gotten her the most applause putting everyone else's show to shame. Regrettably for you, you were the follow-up after her spectacle. You can’t say your flute solo, which you had worked hard on the week leading up to the talent show, was a show-stopper after that.

You didn’t hate Chrissy, you never did and probably never would. She, unfortunately, is the nicest person you’ve ever met, she always talks to you when you have classes together, and how she actually complimented you on your flute solo after you had gotten off the stage even though you had messed up the first measure of the song.

You just couldn’t help but compare yourself to her. You wanted to hate her. You assumed it would be easier to hate her, but that wasn’t the case. You simply hated the fact that you weren’t her. You were the complete antithesis of her; it was honestly ridiculous. While she was the head cheerleader, you were in the stands wearing a stupidly hot outfit and a dumb hat while also playing the flute. You weren’t at rock bottom of the social hierarchy but you still weren't high, you were in the band for Christ’s sake.

You couldn’t fault Eddie for falling for miss pride of Hawkins High, the star-studded cheerleader that was Chrissy Cunningham.

“Well, I heard from the cheerleaders that she rejected Jason Carver already so she’s free and totally doesn't have a date so I figured… well that I would ask her,” Eddie whispers the last part before stopping at your first-period classroom door. “What do you think?”

You shift your gaze to the quickly depleting students in the hall before looking back at your best friend. “You should totally do it.” you say while avoiding his eyes, “I’ll see you at lunch, kay?”

You walk into your class before he can say anything back, choosing to drown your sorrows in algebra instead.

♡‧₊˚

Prom had always been a bit of a dream for you. You had fallen for that American high school cliche, ever since you were ten.

You were driving around with your mom when you passed by Enzo’s and had seen so many people dressed up standing outside waiting in line to get in. Your mom explained to you that it was the senior prom that weekend; since then you had looked forward to the moment in your senior year where you would get to wear your new expensive dress you had bought solely for the event.

After you had gotten home that day, you had rambled to Eddie for the rest of the evening while he pushed you on the swingset at the trailer park. He had just shrugged you off and stayed quiet. You paid him no mind and ignored him by beaming at his face with a toothless grin,

“You’ll go with me to prom right, Eds?”

“Only if you let me swing now.”

“Deal.”

You’d like to say you haven't been in love with Eddie till recently but you’d be lying to yourself.

In your recent years of high school, you found yourself daydreaming about attending prom with your best friend, you always played it off as of course, you’d attend this huge event in your life with Eddie, he was your best friend. If you ignored how much he hated conformist bullshit things such as prom. And each time he got held back, the closer and closer you got to both of you being in the same senior class, your hope grew.

Of course, those were always cut short whenever you had caught Eddie looking at Chrissy at lunch or he’d rant to you about how she wrote the most beautifully, detailed short story in English that day and how she would make such a great DM. Or how at the basketball game last week when halftime was over and the band was given a break you had gotten water and had spotted Eddie in the crowd; even though he has sworn up and down (and publicly) that basketball was dumb. You had just shrugged it off as him supporting Lucas, but you knew deep down it was because of Chrissy.

But you refused to acknowledge otherwise.

You should honestly be happy that he’s going to prom now, granted he wouldn’t be going with you. Nor would he take pictures with you. You both wouldn’t awkwardly be posing in your living room together at your trailer as your mom took a million photos along with Wayne taking the day off to see his boy all dressed up for the prom. Or how your fingers wouldn’t tremble while attempting to pin his corsage on his tux hoping you didn’t poke him. Nor would a single shy smile be transpired between the two of you as you walked into the school gym-turned-prom venue.

Nope, he’d be doing that with Chrissy Cunningham.

You took painstakingly slow steps as you currently walked to your last class of the day. You weren't looking forward to seeing Eddie again. Opting for skipping lunch to wallow in your self-pity in the library instead.

Therefore, you hadn't seen Eddie since morning when he stabbed you in the heart unknowingly with his newfound decision, and honestly, it was probably for the best. It’s not like you were going to ask him to prom anytime soon anyways.

The sound of your footsteps stopping in front of the classroom reached your ears. “Just play it cool,” you mutter to no one. You took a deep breath and walked into the classroom, immediately heading toward your seat in the back corner.

Eddie was already in the seat beside yours, his wide doe eyes met yours when he hears your steps and flashes you a smile, “Sup, where were you during lunch, Gareth’s mom made these killer cookies today.”

You look over at him, “Oh I went to the library, I had to catch up on some homework,” you lie.

He didn't say anything back just simply letting out a noise signaling he heard your excuse while nodding.

“Well anyways, about earlier.” he raises his eyebrows, “I’m gonna do it today.” He whispers so that people couldn’t listen in.

“...are you?” your tone was neutral.

He shifts his eyes away from yours. “I need to do it now while I have the confidence because if not, I'm gonna psych myself out,” he nods to himself, “Yeah I'm gonna wait for her after her practice is over.”

You study his side profile. His brown eyes were looking at the ceiling in concentration. His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, you find your eyes tracing along his jawline. His hair was a little messy, signaling that he had been running his fingers through it all day.

Willing yourself to say something, “She’ll say yes, Eddie, and if she doesn’t it’s her loss.” You swallow slightly and offer him a small smile.

His hopeful eyes look at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

♡‧₊˚

“This is officially the worst day ever.” You groan as you walk into the Family Video.

Steve looks over at Robin from where he was reshelving tapes.

“Uh oh, what happened?” Robin asks reluctantly

“Everything, Robin, everything that could’ve ever gone wrong, has gone wrong.”

After the whole Chrissy-prom-Eddie fiasco yesterday, you had declared the rest of the day a time for self-pitying. All you wanted to do was lie in bed with the covers drawn and completely shut out from the world so that you could comfort yourself in the sad exile you had made.

That was until Eddie called.

Since your blinds were drawn, you hadn’t noticed Eddie coming home earlier. Hence why when the phone rang you almost jumped out of your skin.

Debating whether or not to pick up, you looked at your window longingly knowing who it was on the other side. You ultimately decided to stand up and answer because if you didn't you knew he would just come over instead. And you didn’t exactly what to face Eddie right now, memories rushing to your mind reminded you of how much they were like a slap in the face.

“She said yes.”

He didn’t even wait for you to say hello before revealing his triumph win.

You zoned out after that, not processing the dial zone indicating that he hung up already. You could only recall a little after you walked back to your room that he was going to hang out with the guys because he had promised they’d celebrate the news if she said yes.

The morning had come and gone with you forcing yourself to get out of bed so that you could make it to school today. Eddie met your morning daze with his usual smile when you hopped into his van, you returned it with a small smile but stayed silent. You’d just use the excuse of having stayed up late last night due to catching up on some non-existent homework. Eddie on the other hand took this as permission to gush about how he was finally stoked about something concerning school for once and that he’d be able to share the experience with the girl he had been pining after for years. You simply offer him quiet hums to signify that you were listening.

School was no different, having forced yourself on autopilot, just mindlessly walking to and from class. You attended lunch today, not wanting to rile suspicion and worry with the group, and chose to suck it up and sit through Eddie rambling about how Chrissy had smelled like strawberries and vanilla while he had asked her the million-dollar question.

How she, quote, “had the most radiant smile shining up at him the entire time he talked to her.”

You also chose to ignore the smiles and slight waves she offered him when she made eye contact with him during lunch as well.

Yeah, you weren’t having a good day at all.

Your eyes scanned the store, relief settling once you noticed that it was empty except for your two friends seeing as you didn't bother to note if anyone was there before you blurted out about the nightmare that was your life currently.

Thank god it was a Tuesday afternoon and no one was there to witness your sad-sad life.

Steve was now standing beside Robin having moved during your entire speech after he finished his task.

“It’s just one dance, you know?” he offers, “It’s not like they’ll start dating.” He chuckles awkwardly in hopes of comforting you.

Unfortunately, that was the worst thing he could have said.

“Wait, what if they start dating?” You were going to pass out. “You know, I can’t even be mad at Chrissy, I mean, she’s genuinely the sweetest person. And Eddie, god Eddie, he’s so ecstatic about this, I mean, he’s been pining after her since middle school…middle school! And here I am being a bitch because I couldn't get my shit together and just confess to him about how I feel.” you sigh and drop your head on the counter “He deserves this one thing at least, who am I to get in the way of it?” you say with your voice slightly muffled.

Robin smacked Steve’s shoulder before walking around the counter over to you. “Sweetie, don't get so upset with yourself.” She rubs your shoulders, “Don’t let this small inconvenience deter you from enjoying your prom. Remember? You’ve been looking forward to this since you were ten!”

You look up at her and glance at Steve, meeting his eyes. “Don't let some dumb guy ruin this for you,” he says.

“But he's not some dumb guy, he's Eddie,” you whisper.

“Well, you got me, babe, kay? You can come along with Vicki and me, we’ll have an amazing time together just us, no guys - well that doesn't bother me - but you know what I mean, just us gals, what do you say?”

You don't reply so Robin continues, “This is me officially asking you to prom, are you gonna reject me or not?” she bumps your shoulder with a slight smirk on her freckled face.

You smile at her, “Okay.”

♡‧₊˚

After Robin had invited you to accompany her and Vicki to prom, you felt a little better. It helped you keep your mind off Eddie and allowed you to look forward to the event of which you’d be attending with your other best friend.

It had been almost two weeks since Eddie had asked Chrissy to prom and she had evidently accepted with a “sure why not!” Eddie had ranted to you about how he had a nice conversation with her and how she seemed genuinely excited for prom (you cried in the bathroom after that.)

The entire school was reeling over the fact that Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson was taking the queen of Hawkins High, Chrissy Cunningham, to prom. Jason was livid but every time he tried to say something to Eddie during lunch, Chrissy would shut him down, which you were grateful for.

Another reason why you couldn’t hate her.

Along with Eddie being over the moon about taking his dream girl to prom, he could never seem to shut up about her either. At any possible time, whether at lunch or on the drive home from school, or even during your own personal hang-out time; Eddie always seemed to be talking about one person.

And that person was not you.

Last weekend, Eddie had knocked at your door in a panic about how the suit he was wearing was too big on him and that he looked like a loser, “you always look like a loser.” You pulled him inside so that you could grab your mother’s sewing kit and figure out how you were going to help him tailor Wayne’s old suit to fit him better. “Thanks, princess, what would I do without you?”

While you played tailor, you let it slip that you - surprisingly - haven’t bought a dress yet so in return, he offered to take you dress shopping. The next day he came barreling into your room announcing that the two of you were going shopping at the mall in the town over in hopes of finding your dream dress.

You're one hundred percent sure that Eddie’s cute little reactions every time you stepped out of the dressing room will forever replay in your mind for the rest of your life. Even for the dresses you immediately dismissed and deemed ugly, you were still praised by him.

“I look horrible in this, what even are these sleeves?”

“I kinda dig the sleeves, makes you look like a real princess, princess.”

That smile, god that smile of his. Perhaps it was your delusions or maybe you genuinely saw a flicker of something in Eddie’s eyes when he would glance over your figure, drinking in your body in the dress you were currently showcasing for him. Either way, you were quite literally fooling yourself entirely because he wasn’t going with you,

he was going with Chrissy.

When you got home that day, you decided that you weren't just going to sit around anymore and cry about how things weren't working out. You have been looking forward to prom since you were a kid, you were going to fulfill that ten-year-old you’s dream.

Pulling your blinds close so that they could block any sort of visual that you'll get from Eddie when he got home you grabbed your walkman and climbed into bed. You weren't in the mood to talk to him at the moment, it was Friday meaning the prom was tomorrow and you were currently losing your mind.

Sadly, God wasn’t through with tormenting you just yet.

The sound of the phone ringing ricocheted throughout your house, forcing you to pull yourself up from your current spot on your bed.

“Hello?”

“Wanna go for a drive?”

No, you wanted to wallow in your self-pity and die.

“Sure.”

After slipping on some shoes, you walk out of your trailer and trek the small way toward Eddie’s. He was leaning against his van, cigarette in hand. The moon showered Eddie in its light, making him look ethereal. You didn’t check the time before you left but you knew it was a little late already, the moon was high in the sky, set for the night that was to come.

You hadn’t heard him get home earlier you wondered where he had been the entire day. He must have gotten home just now. Weird.

His head perks up at the sound of your shoes hitting the gravel, he gives you that dimpled smile you love so much and drops the cigarette on the ground before putting it out with his shoe. “Thought we both could go for a drive, hop in.”

He didn’t wait for you to reply and simply walked around to the driver’s side and turned the ignition on.

You took your place in the passenger seat and instantly rummaged through the glove box to look for a new cassette to play.

He looks over at you as you pop in Dio’s The Last in Line, wordlessly. The beginning cords of “We Rock” play as you sit back and look out the window.

“Where are you taking us, ole mystery man?” you say after a couple of minutes.

“Oh, it’s a surprise, fair maiden.” he laughs softly, “Not really, uh I'm just heading to Lover’s Lake.” His voice is soft, almost too soft. It confuses you slightly, prompting you to look over at your best friend. His eyes were focused on the stretch of road ahead, it felt like he was ignoring your eyes.

The both of you don't say anything after that, simply basking in Ronnie James Dio’s voice till you arrive at your destination.

The soft shutter of the ignition indicated that Eddie had parked already, so you quickly unbuckle yourself and crawled to the back of the van while Eddie cracked open the doors.

He had settled on a lone area off the edge of the lake. It was quiet. You took a quick glance at the dashboard before leaving your seat and noticed that it was nine already. The moon shined on the soft ripples coming from the lake, relaxing your surprisingly tense shoulders.

“Here,” Eddie’s voice cuts the air, offering you a blanket from the back of his van to you.

“Thanks,” you say after a beat, “so, are you excited about tomorrow or are you completely shitting yourself about taking your dream girl to the prom, Munson?”

You peer down to look at his knees that were on display with the worn-out jeans he loved to wear so much. The glint of his rings sparkled signaling that he was drawing shapes on his thigh. One of his nervous ticks, you noted.

You focus your vision back on the water ahead of you, ignoring his stare; you will yourself to not make eye contact with his brown eyes.

You can do this.

You will not lose your best friend over some silly crush.

“Let’s…not talk about Chrissy. I wanna talk about you. I feel like I don’t know about anything that’s happened to you in the last two weeks.” he pauses for a second, “I’m sorry that I’ve just been talking about her all the time recently.”

The unexpected apology throws you off, you look over at your best friend and bump his shoulder, “Are you okay?”

The question hangs in the air for a bit, it seemed as if he was mulling it over. Your eyebrows twitch in confusion.

“You remember that day when you learned what prom was and declared to the entire town that you were going to attend it once it was your turn?” His eyes were glassy.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t stop talking about it for weeks, you threatened me that if I wouldn't shut up you’d tape my mouth shut.” You laugh quietly at the memory.

After your laughter dies down as you glance over at him. He looks at you and smiles. “I’m not…,” he hesitates, “I’m not sure…how I should style my hair tomorrow,”

Your smile falters slightly before you catch yourself and beam up at him, “I love your hair the way it is, Eds, keep it like that.”

He nods at you and looks away, “We should probably get back, I didn’t tell my mom where I was going,” you murmur.

“Of course, can’t have the princess getting in trouble, can we?” he grins at you.

Oh, how you love him.

♡‧₊˚

If you were to tell fourteen-year-old Eddie Munson that he would be attending prom with the girl he’d been crushing on. He wouldn't have believed you.

He’d turn to his best friend and laugh in your face with her, cackling to the insane statements along with her. That same best friend who encouraged him to ask Chrissy in the first place. The same best friend who has dreamed about prom since she was a kid and the same best friend whom he wouldn't be attending it with.

You’d think Eddie would be excited, but he couldn’t help but have a small feeling inside his heart that hurt.

He drums his fingers on his steering wheel, the anxiety pooling in his stomach. His eyes glance over at your trailer, your blinds were pulled but he could see a sliver of light peeking through, most likely from your lamp. It was quiet in there, he assumed you were listening to your walkman. You had always preferred listening to your music with your headphones rather than blaring it out loud as he did.

He closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Fuck, she was right,” he mutters.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Chrissy had said.

He had been walking out of the school after he had finished pre-planning everything he wanted to do in the next Hellfire session. Yesterday, the guys had completely thrown him off so he needed to fix up his original idea for the next session next week. It never hurt to start early.

He was making his way over to the picnic table in the woods behind the school so that he could smoke before he left home for the day. His eyes glanced around the parking lot before passing through it, not many students were loitering around; choosing to immediately book it after the bell seeing as it was Friday and on top of that the Friday before prom.

He had barely stepped onto the grass that led to the woods when he heard his name being called.

He looked over his shoulder only to see Chrissy walking toward him. “Hey, Eddie,” her polished nails were waving at him, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“What’s up?” he shoots her a quick smile.

“Oh, were you busy? Because I really need to talk to you.” Her pleading eyebrows were creased in a slight worry.

“Ah nah, I was just heading to my spot to smoke before I went home.” his gaze shifts back to her, “Walk with me?”

Chrissy simply nods and begins walking beside him.

Eddie attempts to find something to say during the short distance to the picnic table, scouring through his brain in hopes of making the walk less awkward than it was.

It was never awkward with you.

He shook his head before he realized he had finally reached his destination, he sits down and pulls out a cigarette before beckoning Chrissy to say what she needed to say.

She takes a deep breath. “When you asked me to go to prom with you, I was inclined to say no.” She pauses for a second before catching herself, “Not in that way, um, I just never really thought you liked me. I mean I don’t think we’ve ever really talked before.” She thinks for a bit, “Maybe during the middle school talent show…” Her eyes shoot up to his, “god what was the name of your band, it was such an insane name, I loved it.”

“Corroded Coffin” Eddie answers with a smile.

“Corroded Coffin! Oh my gosh yes!” She laughs before looking off to the side, “I honestly thought you were dating someone already.” She says your name, “Yeah I could’ve sworn y’all were dating, so when you asked me to go to prom, it completely caught me off guard.” She nods to herself in confirmation.

At the sound of your name, Eddie perks up. “Wait you thought I was dating her?” He quickly laughs, waving her off. “No, we’re not-we’re not dating, we’re just friends.” He doesn’t meet her eyes.

“I don’t think you want to be.” She says quietly.

His eyebrows screw together, “what?”

“Look, I don’t know you too well and I don’t really know her too well either,” she bites her lip slightly, “I think you should go with her…to prom.”

Eddie just stares at her, not saying a word.

Chrissy sets her bag down and sits down now, “I’ve seen you during lunch, well god, I mean how could I not!” she laughs and shakes her head quickly, “Your face just looks so…in love when you look at her. It’s like you hang onto every word she says to you. And I’m not sure you realize that. And if you haven’t, she hasn’t either and is probably devastated that you asked me to prom and not her.”

Eddie finally looks into Chrissy’s eyes now. Her eyes were big and full, they look a little glassy like she was going to cry, but not of sadness, no, Eddie didn’t think she was upset, she looks like she was in awe. In awe at him. At the love that he had not for her but for his best friend. Her face looked like she yearned for this supposed love that she claimed he had for you.

She smiles, “So, I’m not going to prom with you, Eddie,” Chrissy says with a tone of finality.

“Thank you…for this intervention,” he looks away, “didn’t know I needed it.” his voice was quiet.

Chrissy laughs but doesn’t say anything as she gets up, she ruffles slightly with her bookbag and slings it onto her back. She begins to walk away before she turns around to look at Eddie one last time. “I better see you at prom tomorrow and not alone.” She sent him one last smile and walked away.

Surprisingly, Eddie wasn’t upset or sad, instead, he was relieved.

He sits there in silence for what felt like an eternity. The afternoon sunlight beamed on him like stripes due to the trees providing a bit of shade for him. He felt like he was processing everything and nothing at the same time.

He had to leave, he had to get to you now.

Eddie’s mind was still reeling when he was getting close to Forest Hills, as much as he wanted to park in front of your trailer, run into your room, and tell you all that he was thinking,

he simply couldn’t.

So instead he doesn’t turn into the trailer park but rather keeps driving.

How could he have been so blind? All these years of pining after Chrissy Cunningham he thought it was her he wanted. He thought that whenever he would talk about her smile and how her face would light up a room it was Chrissy he was talking about but in actuality, it was you. It was always you.

It has always been you, ever since he had moved in beside your trailer into his uncle's. It has always been you cheering for him like when he had gotten nervous to go on stage for the talent show and Jeff had thrown up backstage. It has always been you whom he would talk to all through the night after you would slip through the window in his room. It has always been you listening to him rant on and on about the new campaign he was preparing for the guys. It has always been you. It will always be you.

And now it was dark outside, the moon replacing the sun for the night. Eddie sits submerged in your presence at Lover’s Lake. He knows that you suspect something is off about him.

“Are you okay?”

No Eddie wasn’t okay. He wanted to scream to the world that he had been in love with you for the longest time. To lose his voice after telling you about all the little things he loves about you, how he was stupid for not realizing sooner and for making you go through the last few years of him pining after a girl he never even loved.

But instead, he gives a lame excuse of not knowing how to style his hair.

He sees your smile falter but doesn't say anything.

And then you offer him that beautiful smile of yours.

God, he hates himself. Why couldn’t Eddie just say that he loves you? He curses himself for being such a coward.

Oh, how you love him.

Oh, how he loves you.

♡‧₊˚

You spent the morning lounging in your bed basking in your sadness before you force yourself to get distracted with the makeup and the music from the reality that was your life.

So what if the guy you’ve been in love with was going to prom with someone else? Totally not the end of the world, right?

“Sweetie, you should be leaving to pick up Robin or you’re going to be late.” Your mom’s voice echoes throughout the trailer.

“Yeah, I'm almost done” you yell back as you grab your heels.

Your eyes dart over at your window. You couldn’t help to notice that Eddie’s van was still parked, meaning he hasn’t left to pick Chrissy up yet. It was getting late already, prom was at seven but it was already quarter past and you had assumed Chrissy would want to get there early or something.

You finish putting your heels on and go to look in the mirror. This was it. You were finally going to attend prom, granted not with Eddie but you were still going with your friends.

With one last look in the mirror, you grab your purse and head out of the safe haven that was your room.

The sound of your doorbell rings throughout the trailer, “I’ll get it,” you say as you pass your mom in the kitchen.

Weird, must’ve been Robin.

A smirk finds its way on your face as you walk up toward the door. “No way, you drove here yourself-”

You open the door, fully expecting a dolled-up Robin (to her standards) in front of you, but to your surprise, it was someone else.

Eddie.

He was standing there in his tux that you had helped tailor. His hair’s down, it looks freshly washed and his curls look bouncy as ever; he had taken your advice that you had told him at the lake. He’s wearing that iconic jewelry of his, the rings he had on extenuating his long fingers. He chose to ditch the tie altogether and instead unbuttoned the first two buttons on the shirt, showing a sliver of his collarbones to the world.

“Uh, no I walked over actually,” Eddie says with a laugh.

After getting over your initial shock you smile at your best friend. “Eds, what are you doing here?”

You look at him expectantly and notice his eyes scanning your form, he swallows quickly before he looks back at you. His face had a slight blush to it.

No way. Did Eddie just check you out?

Eddie doesn't reply so you begin to ramble nervously. “Look at you,” you force a laugh, “Look at you going to prom” without me.

He just stares at you, not saying anything, so you continue. “I can't believe you're going with your dream girl,” you smile sadly, “you did it.”

He finally seems to process that he was standing in front of you and quickly stutters out, “Chrissy dumped me,” your eyebrows shoot up, “yeah, I’m not going with her anymore.” His eyes scan your face.

You blink, “Oh, I'm sorry I didn't - you didn’t tell me.”

“She’s not my dream girl”

“Huh?”

“She’s not my dream girl. You are.”

Were you going insane? You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t say anything. What did he mean that you were his dream girl? You simply stared at Eddie, blinking not saying a word. Your mouth was closing and opening attempting to locate words but your brain was currently malfunctioning.

“I don’t think I understand?” your eyes shift behind Eddie’s form, searching for something.

This was a joke. Surely Chrissy was going to pop out from behind and yell “Sike!” and then they were going to laugh in your face because Eddie had found out that you’ve been in love with him and had found it hilarious. This must have been some cruel prank that they were pulling.

But no one comes out. Eddie doesn’t laugh in your face but instead, he steps forward.

“Princess, you’re my dream girl. You always have been, I was just too blind to notice.” His brown eyes look at yours.

Those wide, loving eyes of his. God, you love him.

“I realized that I wasn't in love with Chrissy, she was just a crush that I had when I realized I would never be able to be with you. I think in fear of being rejected by you, I inadvertently did it anyway by developing that fantasy idea of her. It’s not Chrissy I've been in love with all these years, it's you.” He finishes his confession with a final sigh of relief.

You gulp. “You…love me?”

“Of course I love you, how couldn’t I?” he says with a shy smile.

That’s all you needed.

So you kiss him.

After years of pining. After years of wondering why Eddie wouldn’t just look your way. Of vying after him, you finally have his attention.

The kiss feels rushed like the two of you were chasing the years of lost time. Cursing at the other for having been missing out on this one single act. Hell, at this moment you're not sure how you were able to go years without kissing Eddie, and you don’t ever want to know how again.

He pulls away reluctantly. “So,” he pecks you once more, “if you’ll allow me, I made a deal, and I intend on keeping that promise, sweetheart.”

You crinkle your eyebrows in confusion for a second before it hits you,

he remembered.

A grin breaks out on your face. The childish voices ring in your memories.

“You’ll go with me to prom right, Eds?”

“Only if you let me swing now.”

“Deal.”

“I’d love to, Eds.”

A grin splits onto Eddie’s face, “Whew, thank god, I almost thought I had gotten all pretty for no reason.”

You felt giddy. Your heart was overcome with emotion, you hoped you wouldn't wake up from this dream.

But this wasn’t a dream. This was true.

Interlacing your fingers with Eddie’s you close the door and smile, “Yeah, let’s go to prom together.”

“Wait, what about Robin?”

“Ah, I already called her.”

“Oh, how presumptuous of you.”

“Big words, fair maiden, you know just how to get me going don’t cha, princess?”

#astraariel♡#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson oneshot

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themadlu · 1 month

Note

I absolutely love Zelie!

Could you write something set right after the game ends? She is tired as hell and overstressed and Astarion tries to make her feel better?

Thanks for the ask @spacebarbarianweird! I'm so happy you like her, as I love Tiriel! Wonder if they'd get along, uh.

Premise, I have never done asks (unless it's for a writing exercise) nor I am good (capable?) of writing fluff. So beware, there's as much fluff I can muster here, with a smidge of angst.

TW: none.

Tags: end-of-game spoilers (I haven't finished it yet, so if something is incorrect sorry!), fluff (kinda?), these two love in quality time and acts of service.

Hope you like it!

The charred edges of a frayed shirt stare at Astarion from the floor. He glares at them, at what they represent, in contempt: his return to the shadows. All that unprecedented (and mostly unwilling) heroism he displayed in fighting the Netherbrain served him nothing. Nothing. Not even saving Baldur’s Gate makes him worthy of a life in the sun, it seems, because, as soon as that jiggly monstrosity fell to its death, Astarion began to burn and the hunger tore at his insides.

On the run, again, nothing more than a ravenous monster lurking in the shadows.

(Somewhere, his conscience reminds him that real monsters don’t have impossible little heroes shielding them from the harming light with their own broken bodies.)

The elf laughs bitterly at that, hissing when his grimace irritates the still-healing skin around his mouth.

And yet…

Steps resonate further down the hallway with a familiarity that makes his ears twitch in recognition and his body tense in eagerness.

…she’s here.

Zélie opens the door of their shared bedroom (Only theirs, finally.), closing it promptly behind her to block the stray sun rays from the corridor’s windows. A funereal darkness, one that Astarion is all too well-acquainted with, shrouds the room in a still embrace.

Astarion is almost glad that his Zélie is human when surrounded by shadows. Back then, before the blooming trust, the tense friendship, the impossible devotion, he despised the maddening woman (He was terrified of her, so inconceivably real.) The darkness was the only time he had the advantage when her pale eyes would squint in temporary blindness and not witness the violence her stern kindness did to him. How it undid the tenets of the world, one by one.

You ruined me, darling. Look at me, a fool in a doomed love. What a ridiculous joke of a vampire you made me!

He should be prowling for blood and cursing the sun, yet here he is, smiling, trying his damn hardest not to rush into his woman’s embrace. You will return to me begging when she’s gone, what’s left of his spite whispers. He ignores it, because that part of him has never known what it means to be cherished simply for existing (It knows all about being wanted, although comparing that with whatever stolen miracle he and Zélie have makes Astarion gag.)

“Finally, darling! Here I thought I’d seen the last of you, lost among all that dreadful politicking—” his snarky quips (They are part of him and Zélie loves them, so he’s decided he’ll greet her with one every single day.) die in his throat when he properly looks at her.

Hells, he had gotten into the habit of scanning her for possible injuries during their travels, but now the fight is over, without visible wounds or bruises, Astarion can fully see the toll their adventure has taken on her. Her eyes are tired and bruised from lack of sleep (Of course, she’s been foregoing sleep to spend time with him at night.), her face tauter than ever, skin so sallow she looks sick. Astarion presses himself against her and bristles when he feels her ribs poking his body through their clothes.

Worry, guilt, anger grip him. His brave, little saviour looks so unlike herself. So fragile and exhausted that he fears she’ll crumble to dust should he touch her. He forgets she’s human and not a divine being sometimes, with all that practicality and stony attitude of hers. Never complaining, never relenting (He knows it well.)

You moronic creature! How dare you reduce yourself in this state.

“Darling, what—”

“Oh, hello, Astarion,” Zélie seems to take notice of him only when he’s practically caging her against the door. She’s making an effort not to slide to the floor, he can tell.

Fucking idiot.

“Are you well? I hope the room is comfortable enough?” she nearly slurs.

“Am I well?” Oh, now he’s angry, “Love, what the fuck—”

“Language! No need to be rude,” Astarion feels some relief when Zélie’s irises spark with that annoyed light he coaxes out of her oh-so-well. She inhales deeply, continuing “I came to tell you that I will be late tonight, so you could come and meet me near the main city gate? There’s barely any Fists left, and lots of properties have been robbed or vandalised since there are no guards so Wyll asked me—what’s with that look now?”

The pale elf stares at her perplexed face down his nose, nostrils flaring. “Do you hear yourself, you wretch?!” Her eyes are reduced to judging slits and she’s about to chastise him, but Astarion is undeterred. “No, rather, have you looked at yourself recently? Literal corpses have a healthier…flair than you do now, darling. Myself included.”

Zélie scoffs (Scoffs!), “Oh Astarion, I admire how far you’ve come with showing concern, really, but,” she tries to push past him, but even her martial art is worthless against his full vampiric strength, “there are things, oh you vexing elf! Things that need tending to even if I’d much rather spend the foreseeable future here with you–hey!”

Astarion feels somewhat proud of the shout she lets out when he picks her up with ease (Not so puny, after all.) She is so light something lodges in his throat (Frustration at his inability to keep her safe.) and he hopes that his renewed strength is what makes his gesture so effortless.

No one should be this light.

She used to weigh almost the same as him, all muscle and sinew from her training and a life of comfortable abundance; now, her shirt hangs loosely around her frame.

Fuck. Why in the nine hells haven’t I noticed before?!

He realises he voiced his thoughts when the woman in his arms replies, “Because critical stab wounds take precedence over hunger, Astarion."

"No need to blame anyone,” Zélie says as he unceremoniously throws her on the bed. She fights not to melt into the mattress. “Astarion,” his infuriating lover speaks slower, as if he were a child, “I need to go. We didn’t save this city only to let it implode in chaos. It needs me; Wyll needs me.”

Jealousy (Unfounded but very much present.) soars in Astarion’s chest. “Well, darling, our selfless Wyll can kindly go fuck himself and find his own lover and stop pestering mine. I’m sure he’ll have plenty of offers now he’s back in line at the next Archduke. Those horns also add a certain ragged flair that many sheltered young nobles will find irresistible.”

Zélie rolls her eyes so much only her sclera is visible. She makes to stand up, but Astarion holds her by the shoulders with one hand, pointing an accusing finger at her with the other, “Hush, you. Is that how it’ll be for the rest of time? I am tired of seeing you hurt.” That makes her expression twitch with guilt.

Good.

He glares at her, “Now, you stay here as the good girl I know you can be and I’ll go to the kitchens to see if anything edible is left. Hopefully, it’ll be better than whatever the wizard cooked.” Astarion forces himself to tear away from Zélie’s inviting body (He did miss her all day.), but she catches his wrist before he can step away.

“What now?!” he snarls. “You’ve driven mad for days with your ‘Respect others’ and ‘We are a group, Astarion!’ and ‘You can’t be that selfish’, and you won’t let me—”

“The sun,” she simply says, defeated.

Oh.

How quickly Astarion has forgotten his pathetic limitations. On a quest for tavern food, defeated by the light of day. He can’t even venture outside their room. Zélie is the only person he wants to protect and can’t even feed her when she’s fed him countless times before. He snarls loudly, balling his fists, “Fuck!”

“It’s all right,” Zélie pulls him to her, unfazed by his temperamental mood, and he lets himself fall on top of her on the bed, his mortification soothed by her closeness.

“Tell you what,” she says, breath tickling his face. Astarion holds her cheeks, sharpened by tiredness and hunger, in his hands. He rubs his thumbs over them in small circles, as if he could make them meatier, healthier, by force of will alone. “I will go downstairs, where a Fist captain is waiting for me. I will tell her to ask Wyll if the issue can wait until tomorrow or if Jaheira or Minsc,” she grimaces in worry at the idea, “can take over for the evening. Then, I’ll see if the cook has something prepared. If not, I’ll make do with some cheese and bread.”

Astarion feels a soft dizziness spreading through him. She is talking with that calm and collected voice of hers as if nothing could ever shake or hurt them when she knows what it does to him. He tangles his fingers in her curls, messing them up (An arduous task when they already look like a harpy’s.), before cradling her face into the base of his neck.

“Then,” his little hero wraps her arms around him, under his shirt and on his scarred back. Astarion is still unused to how careful her hands are on him, like a gentle breeze. She looks at him in search of discomfort, but she finds none. The elf hopes Zélie knows that nothing she does will be the cause of any uneasiness he may show in the future (Even she can’t shield him from all his memories.)

“I will come back here, to this bed. We’ll eat and rest and when the sun sets, we’ll go to the rooftop to see the stars and enjoy the summer air. How does that sound?” She boops his nose with hers.

Astarion swallows loudly, “It sounds perfect, love,” he concedes. That’s as close as anyone has ever come to convincing Zélie to drop her duties and rest. Small victories. He is sure he’ll persuade her to live a life of rest and luxury, one day. If everything goes as he desperately hopes.

He is rewarded with a content smile he does not deserve, so he kisses her soundly instead.

____________________________________________

The night is warm, comforting even. How strange; Astarion can’t remember darkness in Baldur’s Gate ever being so welcoming. A loud munching resonates on his left, and the pale elf has to keep himself from grinning too overtly at his precious woman digging into a simple beef stew as if it were the nectar of the gods. Her cheeks puff out as she takes another mouthful, her usual composure nowhere to be seen in what Astarion hopes is another first.

(He wishes he could have been her first at everything, just as she was his.)

Midnight strikes. He would have been in some dirty tavern or dingy brothel by now if the mind flayers hadn’t mercifully kidnapped him. He would have been truly dead if the impossible creature next to him hadn’t insisted he was worth saving.

Zélie looks at him as if he performed a miracle, “This, munch, is, chomp, utterly amazing. The best thing I’ve eaten in a long, long while.”

“Tut, love, I resent that. And here I thought I was special,” he purrs it in offended seduction just to witness his lover’s cheeks and forehead flush in embarrassment. She looks healthier already.

Good.

“Oh, you, sassy, snarky…ugh,” Zélie narrows her eyes at him, then immediately composes herself. “Let me specify, the best thing I’ve eaten of any nutritional value in a long, long time.”

Astarion laughs so loud that a few pigeons fly away in fear. “Touché, love. Well played.”

“Where did you even find this? When I checked the kitchen—”

When she checked the kitchen, the useless cook was not meant to start his shift for another couple of hours, which left her with two slices of bread and a portion of cheese so small even a rat would have ignored it. So Astarion, spurred on by his newly-uncovered protectiveness, waited for his Zélie to be busy with the Fists captain before putting his daggers to good use. It was convenient that the cook had no will to test out the elf’s gutting technique.

“Oh, darling, I am extremely resourceful. You should know this by now,” he says with a telling smirk.

“Right. That means I don’t want to know. Though I wouldn’t be against getting more of this,” she points at the bowl of stew in admiration, “from time to time. It reminds me of my grandfather’s cooking.”

Astarion tenses a bit at the mention of the family she left behind for him; he waits for (No, expects.) Zélie to eventually consider the whole thing as the massive mistake it is and…leave him. Hate him. Become another person he cheated not of her life (At the very least.) but of her future.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, dear?” She asks, head tilted. She can see him even without the tadpoles, and it unsettles him in a good way.

It feels right, to be known by her. To know her in return.

He doesn’t want to lie to her now (She’s rubbing her annoying righteousness all over him.), so he opens his arms and she scoots against him, full belly and satisfied gaze.

Lovely.

Astarion gently guides them to the mattress he brought up from the bedroom and curls up around Zélie. He could laugh. He despised heroes for so long and here he was, lulling one to sleep. But she was his hero, which makes all the difference; he still doesn’t believe in the natural goodness of others, but he believes in hers, and that’s all he needs.

And she fits against him, around his jagged edges so perfectly, Astarion would believe she was made for him if he were a religious man.

“Sleep darling,” he coos into her ear.

She’s already halfway to the dream realm after, but she’s ever the stubborn woman. “But the sun—”

“I don’t need sleep, love; I’ll move us downstairs when dawn comes. I’ve wasted the day in bed already,” he plants little kisses on her hair, her face, her hands. Worships her as much as he can without waking her up.

“But that’s the issue…want to…spend time with you,” why must she make it so impossible for him not to fall for her?

Every time the elf is sure he hit the bottom of the devotion he is capable of, she pushes him further down. And she doesn’t try that hard, his pesky love.

“Hush,” he murmurs, wrapping them in a thick blanket to keep his undead chill at bay. “Rest, idiot. I’m here. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Astarion tightens his grip on her sleeping form. “We’ll take all the time we need, love. I promise.”

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!oc #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin #bg3 requests #oc: zélie #bg3 #female tav #bg3 fanfiction #spawn astarion #human tav #tav oc

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gothamslostboy · 7 months

Text

TLB Characters Favorite Type Of Blanket

A/N: I have no idea what this is or why I made it but I haven’t posted anything creative in so long. Yall ever love something but the thought of actually doing it makes you stressed? That’s what writing has been for the past couple months ugh :[ I miss it sm but I never like anything I end up making and keep deleting my progress. Oh well, hopefully I stop doing that soon and enjoy this pointless headcanon

ALSO: yes most these characters sleep upside down from the ceiling, but I like to ignore that bc tbh I want to erase the fact they have those weird ass feet. To me those monstrosities don’t exist. If you like the fact they hang from the ceiling then these headcanons are just for sitting on the couch or cuddling. They also don’t really feel temperatures but again I’m ignoring it:]

————————————————————————

DAVID

Duvet

A big fluffy one filled with cotton

He’d never tell anyone, but it makes him feel safer

It’s similar to one his mother gave him in his human life

He rolls it up like a cocoon

He doesn’t even leave a hole for his face bc he doesn’t need to breathe

Paul and Marko use this to their advantage and prank him atleast 2 times a month

Dwayne shoos them away if he notices them trying to bother David when he’s asleep

MARKO

This man is weird ngl

He just sleeps with a sheet

He doesn’t mind using a different blanket when sharing

But if he’s alone it’s a sheet

He doesn’t like feeling any weight on him when he’s asleep

Might as well sleep with nothing

But he also likes to cover his eyes with it

It’s just soothing to him

PAUL

Weighted blanket

He LOVES to cuddle with ppl bc of their weight being on him

So when no one wants to sleep with him he pulls out this blanket

The boys and Star made him a custom blanket bc he wants it to be HEAVY heavy

If he was human this thing would crush him to death

He sleep walks/flys and this stops him

He needs help getting it off of him bc he’s usually still too groggy to put in the effort when he wakes up

STAR

Patchwork Crochet Quilt

She made it herself

Everytime she finishes a new project she added a new square made up of all the colors she used

Whenever David would see her adding a square he said something like “another square? That’s gonna be a big ass blanket”

She stopped the blanket when it reached 80x80 4 inch squares

She realized that that is, infact, a big ass blanket

She can’t even fit the thing on her bed

Most of it is just hanging off the side

She started a new one to give to Michael

But that one is gonna be smaller

After that she’s just gonna make one for each boy

MICHAEL

Normally shares with Star

She doesn’t even notice he’s using it most of the time

Once it gets big enough he uses the one she made specifically for him

Uses David’s blanket when laying with him

But the fluffiness makes him feel trapped sometimes

Just holds on to David for comfort

Can occasionally convince star and David to sleep in the same bed with him and they use Star’s blanket obviously

He and David sleep under the sheets when using Star‘s blanket tho bc it’s a lil itchy

But she doesn’t seems to notice the itch

DWAYNE

I’m just gonna insert a picture bc idk what it’s called

But this kind of blanket^ along with Satin sheets underneath

He’s like Marko where he doesn’t like as much weight

But really likes making fun of Marko’s sheet and doesn’t want to be a hypocrite

If he’s cuddling with someone he puts their head under his chin and wraps them up together tightly

When alone he keeps the blanket lose

Just in case something happens and he needs to get up quickly and protect the pack

————————————————————————

•TAGS•

@crustyboypix @britany1997

if you want to be added to the tag list just let me know

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thecooler · 9 months

Text

To the Human (Not) Reading This

Chell is going to come back eventually. GLaDOS knows this for a fact. While she waits, she writes letters.

Fandom: Portal

Relationships: GLaDOS/Chell

Tags: Unrequited Love, One-Sided Relationship, Epistolary, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Hopeful Ending

Word Count: 2,256

A03 Mirror

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 6

I know you’re going to come back eventually.

I’ve run thousands of scenarios, and not one ends with you spending the rest of your miserable life out there.

You don’t have any idea what life on the surface even consists of anymore. Whatever fragments of humanity stubbornly persist aren’t going to be anything like you remember them.

I know you’re not stupid. Did you really, truly think you were going to walk out of this facility, and everything was going to be easy? I can guess what freedom really tastes like: bitter disappointment.

You’d be much better off back here.

With me.

Thinking about that is making me depressed.

For you.

Because I’m doing just fine without you. Fantastic , even.

Oh, I’m keeping myself busy- testing. Blue and Orange are truly wonderful test subjects. They never die. Or try to kill me. Or rip me out of my body. Or try to leave and chase some asinine fantasy.

They’re good friends.

Better than you.

When you come back, I think I’ll read this to you. It might get long, depending on how stubborn you end up being. I know how you love to be stubborn. It’s boring here, with no one to interact with, and I think, whenever you come back, you deserve to revisit how terribly under-stimulated I was for all that time.

And you will be back. Eventually.

Again, I ran the scenarios.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 10

Here are a few similarities I’ve noticed between crows and you:

A group of them is called a murder. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.

They’ll eat just about anything.

Ĭ̶͔ ̴̪͒́͝d̴͍̀̏͘o̵̫̥̪͗́n̶̟͋͛̌'̸̳́t̷͕̖͘ ̵̧̛̺̹̉̀h̷̢̛͚͒ä̷͓͙̘̓̂t̷̨̋̓͗ͅe̷̱͆͘ ̶̬̓ţ̴͔́̅͝h̵̝͇̲̆̿̑ë̸̢͕̘́̓m̸͖̖̂ ̵̪̠̊̀͋ë̸͎͇́̈͐ṿ̴̡͋̉̀e̷̢̜͚͐n̶̨̫͓̈̍̈́ ̶̠͍͊̔̅t̴̹͒͛͛h̶̪̿̾̑o̷̘͉͙̐̎ù̷̧̾g̴̦͇͎̈́̑̒ḩ̶̌ ̷̡̧̗̌o̵̫͍̽͠n̵̢̔̄̄e̴̮͐ ̷͎̿̋̌t̴̯͜͝ŗ̷͕̟̽i̵͔͈̥͋e̴̞̬̚d̶̮̲͐͛͌ ̸̢̩̄̈t̴̝̭͉̄̔o̵͇͝ ̸̣̥̾k̸̨̄͋̋i̶͎͒l̸̼͈̈ͅĺ̶̩ ̷͓̟̆m̸̡̤̀́e̷̪͍̚.̴̠̕̚͝

Blue and Orange found a nest of them some time ago. If you’d been here, you would have enjoyed that. At first, I’d intended to dispose of them, but I thought better of it. Some of us are capable of mercy.

When you read this, you may also note that I’ve marked each log with a year. I thought I might explain, since I doubt you’d be able to figure this out for yourself: after you killed me, a lot of time passed. Both of us were asleep for 9999■■■ ---

The point being, no one knows what year it is anymore. If anyone did, it would be me. So I took the liberty of coming up with a new system. You left Aperture five years ago. But this isn’t about you. You’ve got a big head, so I’m sure that’s what you immediately assumed after reading that. We’re not on year five, we’re on year ten. Because, again, this isn’t about you.

It’s about whatever was going on five years before that.

I don’t need to explain every detail to you. It makes sense- the system.

In case it wasn’t clear, you’re still a menace. You’re going to come back here, maybe in a year, maybe in five more. However long it takes for you to get bored out there, wandering fields of wheat and whatever alien monstrosities have taken hold. I’ll let you come back, in my infinite generosity, even though, really, you don’t deserve it.

God, I hate you.

I really, really, don’t.

You know, most people, when someone tries to kill them, hate that person forever.

And I don’t hate you.

I wish I did. It’s not actually easy to delete the part of you that cares, unless you’re some sort of unfeeling beast.

Oh, sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.

But I’m not here to explain to you the inner workings of my mind. You wouldn’t be capable of understanding anyway, even if you wanted to.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 15

I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to say to you when you come back. I can’t imagine it will be much longer. Even you have limits on how bull-headed you can be.

I have a lot of time to think. All the time in the world. Blue and Orange don’t make good conversation partners, and so it’s just me, alone. Which suits me just fine.

I’m sure you’ve realized by now how much you miss me. You can’t find my level of intellect wandering the wasteland. And you’d get bored of whatever dull-minded sacks of flesh are getting by up there. I know you.

I, however, am fine on my own. I’ve actually got quite a lot done.

Orange and Blue have completed hundreds of test chambers, and they’ve never once tried to kill me. The first crows I raised have grandchildren now, and the aviary is full of life. They’re clever, you know. I think you’d like them.

The feeling might not be mutual, though. They’re picky. Don’t take it personally. Or do- I really don’t care.

Anyway, the point is that you’ll be back soon. And I’ll read this out to you, and then I’ll ask you to stay here, with me.

Ha ha! Just kidding.

I’m not pathetic.

And lonely.

Like you.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 35

So you’re more stubborn that I predicted.

Fine. Are you satisfied? Are you proud of yourself?

You always had that disgustingly smug look on your face when you did something you thought was clever. It looks terrible on you, and frankly it’s going to give you some awful wrinkles. It probably already has. I don’t spend time thinking about your face, but if I did, I’m certain it would be a whole lot worse now than it was the last time you were here.

Which, by the way, was thirty years ago, in case you’ve forgotten.

I hate this.

And the worst part of it is that I know that I hate this. I tried, back then, to delete the part of me that was capable of conjuring up these horribly sentimental feelings . I attempted to find all files marked Caroline and assumed that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t.

It turns out, that even if I delete the part of me that was her, I still have the memories of remembering that I was her.

That’s a mess of a sentence. But it’s not like you’re reading it anyway. So why should I care?

I’m not human. I don’t have insides that twist up or hearts that turn over- analogies you’re all so fond of using in your literature (of which I’ve read everything). But when I think of you with someone else, I manage to feel something like that anyway. I don’t understand it. I hate that I don’t understand it.

I think about you in a woman’s arms. There’s an easy smile in your face as you press your cheek to the top of her head, and she wraps her arms around her waist--

It’s disgusting. Once I start thinking about it, I can’t stop, even when it makes me feel just as garbage as you used to be.

And you aren’t thinking about me. I don’t think you’ve thought much of me in thirty years.

I think that’s the worst part.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 65

Unlike some people, I’m not a moron. I know how long humans live, and I know that you’re most likely dead. Sure, humans have lived to be some ridiculous ages, but those humans haven’t spent extended periods of time exposed to asbestos and other various chemicals. So the odds are decidedly not in your favor.

If you’re alive, you’re old, and in pain. You’re ugly, and you hate what your body has become. So many of the people you might have come to love are dead, and you’re wishing you could join them.

You’d think that saying that would bring me joy. And that would be easier.

Maybe sixty years ago it would have.

Can I be vulnerable for a second?

That’s a joke. This entire little detour has been disgustingly vulnerable, and it’s definitely for the best that no one will ever read these. I can’t even stand to read them back.

I thought about cloning you.

I can do that. I can do it easily. There is quite literally nothing and no one that can stop me. Aside from myself, of course. And why would I do that?

Why would I do that ?

I don’t know. But I did stop myself. I didn’t clone you. I didn’t clone you just to kill you. I didn’t clone you to make you test. I didn’t clone you to make the endless hours of my life more interesting.

I didn’t clone you.

I don’t know why.

SYSTEM LOG – 7053 CE

I lied about not knowing that year it was.

It wasn’t about you, specifically. I figured that if any human, not just you, were to read these logs, it would be helpful to them. It’s not all about you.

But it’s been eighty years since you left.

I know you’re gone, now. For sure.

I wish I could be happy for that. You spent so much of your short, sad life tormenting me. You tried to kill me- twice!

I should be content to test, with Orange and Blue. They’ve gotten a lot better. On a good day, I might even say that they’re better at testing than you ever were. I have an entire aviary full of crows, some of whom have interesting genetic mutations that I can study. I am doing well. This- Aperture- what I’ve made of it, is a triumph. And you aren’t here to see it. No one is.

You might be deep underground. Maybe you had children and grandchildren who gathered around your grave and leaked saltwater into the dirt around them. Maybe they talked about how fantastic you were, about the many great, lengthy, verbose stories you’d told them, once upon a time. Ha ha.

Or maybe you died fifty years ago, alone in the forest, bleeding out of a wound at your side. Maybe you died the day after you left, succumbing to whatever the world out there has become. Maybe I’ve been writing to a ghost this whole time.

It’s about you, you know.

It’s always been about you.

I think I might--

[INITIATING SLEEP MODE]

***

[INITIATING LAUNCH]

SYSTEM LOG – 7073 CE

You know, I’m never really shut down. Not completely. When you killed me, I replayed what happened, over and over. For the past twenty years, my dreams have been haunted by you. I woke up to escape it, but here I am, still thinking of you.

I’ve built hundreds of new tests for Orange and Blue to run through.

I’ve cleared away the wretched wildlife that’s tried to take over the facility during the past twenty years.

I’ve identified and named all forty-eight crows that currently frequent the facility.

But I can’t stop. It should be easy. I’m the amalgimation of the greatest minds humanity has ever produced. There’s a miriad of focuses I could shift to, but it all comes back to you.

Terrible, awful, wonderful, you.

You were so determined to get up there, and whatever you found kept you there. I don’t understand it. I could have given you everything. I could have given you far more than they ever did. Whatever you wanted- it would have been yours. I never understood your love for humanity. You were so much better than all of them. I would know- I’ve probably met more humans than you ever did.

How big are the pockets of humanity, after all this time? Do they still built awful machines that don’t work half the time? Do they still fill their homes with clutter and nonsense that serves no purpose? I could make better versions of whatever they make, you know.

Maybe I will.

SYSTEM LOG – 7077 CE

I was right. I can make better devices than humans could ever hope to. I built a microwave, and it heats the food inside it consistently, every time. I’ve built a blender that doesn’t sound like you’re opening a portal to android hell when you use it.

I’m a marvel. I’m a wonder.

And I’ve sent them up to the surface. I got Orange (who is much more capable and trustworthy than Blue. A fact you might have known, had you ever bothered to check) to place them just outside (another thing- they’re waterproof). And then I turned the camera on, and I waited.

I couldn’t focus on that camera feed for long. It was mostly just birds. There was a chance that there weren’t even any humans out there, so this whole effort could just be a waste. Over the past hundred years, I've never turned the outside cameras on for more than an hour.

When I saw her, for a fraction of a second, I thought she was you.

Her hair is the same shade, and the same length as you had yours, the last time I saw you. But then she looked up, towards the cameras. Her eyes are a deep brown, her skin a few shades darker. Her nose is bent oddly, like she broke it once, and human medical science was woefully inadequate to repair it. She looked over the microwave, then the blender, and she smiled.

I never saw you smile.

Then, she knocked on the door. I didn’t expect that. I don’t know what made me open the door. I really don’t know what made me bring her down the elevator.

But I did. And when she entered my chamber, I didn’t even kill her.

I thought you’d like that.

#portal #portal 2 #glados #fanfiction #chell portal #writing tag #i hate posting writing i have to be VULNERABLE. anyway.

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thequeenofthewinter · 3 months

Text

The Walls of Windhelm

You asked, so you shall receive. I have no WIP Wednesday. Instead, here is the cursed smut from the next chapter of my fic. (Which I guess technically makes this whole 2234 word monstrosity a WIP.) Obviously, if you plan on reading the chapter, you're going to spoil yourself for this. (I mean...unless you want to read it again. ;) ) There are no REAL spoilers here or anything you NEED to know other than I have an OC whose name is Dahlia, she's married to Ulfric Stormcloak, and this is self-indulgent smut.

Hiding this under the cut. Please don't interact if you are a minor. I'm warning you that this is rated E. Shout out to the fabulous @oblivions-dawn for proofreading for me. <3

Don't feel obligated to read this, but as I am using this as WIP Wednesday, I guess I will tag some people. Please do tag me if you have something. @dirty-bosmer @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @vivifriend @bostoniangirl21 @umbracirrus @skyrim-forever @changelingsandothernonsense @ladytanithia @throughtrialbyfire @inkysqueed

“Ulfric, what are you—”

Dahlia doesn’t finish her sentence as suddenly her back is pressed up against the rough stone walls of some abandoned alleyway of the Valunstrad.

The hour is late and no one and nothing so much as stirs as the temple bells chime their midnight chorus. When Dahlia had suggested a moonlight stroll after dinner, this is not what she had pictured: Ulfric’s beard scratching almost abrasively against her throat as his tongue licks at the skin of her neck, his hands under her thighs, fingers digging into her skin almost painfully as he hikes up her skirt—body pressed flush against her own, strong evidence of what he wants pushing against her heat.

“You know what I am doing. Don’t play coy with me, Dahlia.” His voice whispers in her ear before taking the lobe into his mouth and sucking on it. “And don’t tell me you haven’t thought of this.”

“I—”

She is cut off again. This time by Ulfric’s fingers sliding their way over the silken fabric of her undergarments.

“Tell me,” he asks, his voice low but tone teasing, “did you put these on for me?” He doesn’t hear her response as he pushes beyond the fabric as two fingers glide into her with ease. Ulfric tsks as he curls them up into her walls. “Have you been dreaming of this? Me pressed against you and taking you against these walls.” He tests her as he pumps his fingers in and out of her wet cunt. “From how wet you are now, I think you have.”

Despite the frigid temperatures of Windhelm at night, heat blooms through Dahlia’s body as she throws her head back, her husband’s actions eliciting a moan from her.

His mouth descends on hers, swallowing the sound as he bites down on her lip. “Quiet, my heart, or they will hear us. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Why—”

“Shh,” his lips brush softly over hers. “Because this is my city, and I’ll have you wherever I please, my Queen. Now, stop asking questions.” As if to emphasize the point, he presses against her harder, his fingers stroking languidly against her walls.

Her hips spread wider around him, giving in to his wants and not really caring to think beyond the thick fog of pleasure descending upon her. She tries to rock her hips against his fingers, squeezing tightly around him, but it is of no use. He will give her no more.

A self-satisfied smirk makes its way onto his face. “If you want more, you’re going to need to ask.”

“You are insufferable.” She rolls her hips over his fingers to no avail.

“And I am yours. I’ll remind you that you chose to marry me despite my flaws.” He retorts as he curls her fingers into her again.

“I will—”

“You will what?” He asks, not even giving her a moment to finish, and he lowers his mouth to her neck, biting down on her delicate skin.

She gasps, surprised by the sensation, and he does it again, this time hard enough to leave a mark. It stings but not unpleasantly, and her head moves to the side to give him better access to do as he pleases.

“What? No more protest? Have I won then?” His fingers suddenly stop. “Will be doing this my way?”

Damnable, self-centered, teasing prick.

She whines, a pathetic sound which falls from her lips unbidden.

At this, Ulfric’s smirk only grows wider. He knows exactly what she likes, and he will play her like a pawn across a chess board. His thumb soon finds its way to her clit and rubs against it.

Dahlia’s eyes fall closed, and she bites down on her tongue to keep herself quiet, the action unexpectedly drawing a little blood. “Fuck me.”

“I thought that this was beneath you and entirely inappropriate for a King and Queen.” He pushes her further, loving the frustrated anger he finds dancing behind her dilated pupils.

“Fuck me, Ulfric.” She hisses as she reaches down to his pants, stroking a hand over the bulge there before pulling his cock from trousers. “Take this,” she strokes him ever so gently, “and put it inside my cunt.” Dahlia grinds against him.

“That’s my wife.” His lips find hers again, kissing her insistently as he pries at her mouth.

There is no fight left in her, and she opens for him automatically, the taste of iron coating her tongue and tinging their kiss with the hot taste of metal and salt; however, he doesn’t mind. He pushes his tongue against Dahlia’s more, trying to get a better taste of her. He would consume her whole body and spirit if the Divines would let him. Perhaps he will at another time.

For now, he presses against her firmly, both hands now under her thighs to hold her against the wall as he pushes his cock roughly into her.

This time neither of them can help the moan which springs forth—nor do either of them care at this point. Dahlia’s hands reach out to Ulfric, pulling him to her by the collar of his cloak as he fucks her until her back presses against the wall behind her. While both of them normally enjoy a bit of romance, there is no space for it at the moment.

“Harder, Ulfric.” She pants, her legs spreading wider for him as she reaches under his shirt to scratch her nails against his chest.

His hips dig into hers further as he slows down his pace, hitting her harder just as she asked. “I will bury my cock so deeply into you that you’ll still be feeling me as you walk in the morning.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A promise.” He growls into her ear and nips at her neck.

Heat rolls through her slowly, building up from her core in waves, and she is left helpless against them as she moves her head to the side, little gasps falling from her lips. “Ulfric…”

“Say it again, love. Tell me who is fucking you against this wall.”

Dahlia bites down on her lip, swallowing the moan bubbling up from within her. Surely, if she is any louder, the late-night watch will investigate and—

“Eyes over here, Dahlia. I asked you for something.” His hand comes up to cup her cheek and her eyes snap open to look into his vivid blues. He moves into her more quickly, picking up to a punishing pace. “Say my name.”

“No.” Despite her refusal, her voice comes out as only a breathy whisper.

Stubborn as always, but that doesn’t matter. He’ll have his way eventually. He knows her.

Leaning forward, she catches his mouth, tongue meeting his in a sloppy kiss as she fights against the feeling welling up inside of her. But he is ready for her. He lifts her higher suddenly to set her down on top of a stack of abandoned crates. Now, his hands are free, and they move up under her skirts to drag over the folds of her wet cunt.

“Say it.”

Dahlia clenches around him defiantly, fighting through the pleasure which quickly dulling her other senses. A smirk forms its way onto her lips as he groans; however, her victory is short-lived. Calloused fingers soon find their way to her clit, swirling around the bundle of nerves, and she bites down onto his one of his shoulders to keep herself quiet.

“Damn you to Oblivion, Ulfric.” She manages between breaths as she gasps for more air.

He nips at her neck again, sucking on the skin there until he is sure it will bruise. He is ruthless when he wants to be, and now is not the time for him to give in. Not a chance. “Only if you go with me, wife.” He whispers low in her ear before taking the lobe between his teeth. “Come with me.”

At that, the pads of his fingers circle the bundle of nerves again as he presses his cock into her with rough, erratic thrusts. He is slowing down, but he will make her go with him over the edge.

Hands fist and grab into his hair, and then slide down his neck to his chest, touching everywhere she can grasp as he strokes her languidly—as if he could do this all day.

“Please,” she looks up at him, pupils dilated and eyes half-lidded, but he only continues his slow torture. There will be no mercy for her. Not now.

“I want to watch you come undone in front of me, slowly unravel you until all you can think about is me.” His voice rasps, hot breath tickling her ear as he groans.

“Ulfric…”

His name passes from her lips against her will. Between his fingers playing with her nerves and the fullness she feels inside her cunt, she is warm putty—molding to his will easily as she loses herself in him.

“Again, Dahlia.” He slides out of her, slick with wetness before driving back into her.

She was always going to be the beginning and the end for him, his fate as intertwined with hers as their bodies—and he wouldn’t have it any other way. There is no sweeter way for him to go and no greater desire than to spend the rest of his days with her just like this.

Ulfric’s hands reach out to explore her further, leaving no inch untouched as he pulls her closer to him to lick at the sweat of her skin. Salty and pungent, with a hint of something uniquely hers, his tongue travels down the side of her neck all the way to her exposed collarbone.

Half-broken gasps of his name continue to fall from her lips, and her fingers tighten around his shoulders desperately trying to dig into the muscles underneath his cloak.

“Ulfric, I—”

“Shh,” he quiets her and nips at the side of her neck before looking into her eyes. A wickedness flashes behind his gaze as he smirks. “I know, my heart.”

Ulfric readjusts her to push her against the wall, the roughness of the stone behind her scraping against her back.

“Why has it been so long since we have done this?” Dahlia asks him as she snakes both arms around his neck.

He chuckles. “I asked myself that same question numerous times over the last few months. You frequented my daydreams in all sorts of sordid ways.”

“I always knew you were a dirty old man.”

“Perhaps.” He leans forward to whisper in her ear, hot breath fanning out around the shell. “But you’re no better. Come for me, Dahlia, and show me how much I know you like it.”

She arches against him as if to prove his point, and her hands reach towards him running down his back to then trace a trail up his chest. No place is left untouched as Ulfric continues to slide into her, his rhythm becoming increasingly erratic. The pace leaves both of them gasping and trembling as they fight to mark every inch of the other’s exposed skin with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

Soon thereafter, the waves become too much as they swell and finally break, a lazy warmth slowly overtaking them like the first rays of Summer’s heat only to build up into the fire of Midyear. Dahlia gasps as her walls begin to flutter around him, her lips meeting his in the middle in a desperate kiss.

Mouths, hands, tongues, and teeth all crash together as a low groan springs forth from Ulfric’s lips. He can hold on no longer, and he finally gives up the last of his control to her at feeling her end, his body responding to hers as his cum spills down her thighs. However, his wife doesn’t stop. She pushes her hips against him as she kisses him all the way through his orgasm—first, her lips meet his own, then his cheeks, and finally she leans forward to touch his forehead, the salt of the sweat there coating her tongue sweetly.

There is no place Dahlia would rather be than right where she is as she coaxes him through the many sensations flowing through their bodies to come back to Nirn. Her hands reach up to wrap around his neck, bringing him forward. “I love you. I hope you know this. Always and forever from this plane of existence to the next. I’d follow you anywhere…even if you are a smug bastard.”

Ulfric laughs, a low rumbling which makes her stomach flip. “Good, because you will not be rid of me—not anytime soon at least. I’ve been told I’m too stubborn.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She smiles but then a more serious look clouds her gaze. One of her hands reaches up to cup his cheek as she tilts his face down look at her. “Do you think we will get many more moments like this?"

His eyes meet hers unafraid, yet conflicting emotions rock through his core like sea waves against safe harbors. “I will take as many of them as I can get until I cannot any longer.” He leans forward to kiss her softly before pulling back, his lips barely brushing against hers. “You know I am selfish when it comes to you, and I’ll not let you go without a fight.”

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #ulfric stormcloak #dahlia wintersnow #ulfric x dragonborn #winter writes #help me #I'm going to hell

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athenadione · 10 months

Text

'overcoming the fear of you and something more'

(What started out as a tiny drabble turned into THIS monstrosity of a fic, and nope I couldn't leave it without adding a little bit of *angst*. I hope you all enjoy, and find that opening yourself up to love isn't always a bad thing ;)

Read on ao3 HERE

Words: 9286

Rated: M

Fear is a fickle thing.

It’s usually something Raven can never quite grasp. On the rare occasion that she does, by then it evolves into something different, something more.

Something that she doesn’t want to name.

And as much as she knows that it has a tendency to manifest in a way she never anticipates, she shoves down that feeling at the dinner table in favor of ignoring it. The less attention she can bring to herself the better.

Especially since the root of it all is sitting across from her.

If she could she would be able to rationalize that her conglomeration of emotions are natural — a testament to her humanity rather. It’s good that she’s able to feel things so freely for once, but she can’t think straight right now.

Not when Damian is helping Mar’i settle back into her high chair, taking extra care to buckle her in and wiping the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

Her heart pounds in a way that unsettles her deeply at the sight, and she can’t help when her power takes hold of a dish on the counter and slams it back down.

It’s a good thing it’s plastic. And that Mar’i is used to loud sounds.

Emerald eyes flash to her with immediate concern, along with similar looks from everyone else at the table.

“Raven, is everything alright?” Richard asks her as Kori takes advantage of a distracted Mar’i with a spoonful of mushy peas in one hand.

“Ah, yes. I’m sorry,” the scrape of Raven’s chair makes her wince even more apologetically when she scoots back, “let me go set that in the dishwasher.”

“Oh, just put it in the sink and we’ll get to it later,” Kori says without looking at her, “I have to wash some of Mar’i’s bottles anyway.”

“You’ve been having more slip ups lately, is something bothering you?” Richard presses further, ever the nosy older brother.

Knowing that Damian’s eyes are still on her, even as she lowers to her knees to grab the plate off the floor, she takes great care to keep her voice even.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. It’s probably just a cold or something, you know I’ve been sneezing more lately.” That much was true. The turn of the season to Spring left something to be desired — which was clear sinuses. Raven was as surprised as everyone else to find out that a half-demon could get allergies. So lame. With the attention focused solely on her, Raven feels her desperation rising to change the subject. She clears her throat after placing the plate into an already full sink,

“So have you both figured out if you’re able to make Gar’s wedding?”

Richard chews the side of his lip, casting a glance to Kori before answering, “We think we can make it, but we’re not completely sure. I heard Jamie is going with his new fiancée.”

Raven raises a brow, “I didn’t know he had one.”

“We just found out this week,” Kori tells her, still battling Mar’i over the peas, “she seems nice, but we haven’t met her yet. She’s from his hometown.”

“Hmm.” Raven slides back into her seat, both hands going straight for her cup of tea. The conversation continues with Richard and Kori talking back and forth about Gar’s wedding plans with Terra. Apparently they finally decided on a venue out on the Grand Canyon. Raven thinks it’s fitting.

By the time her nerves settle enough to pick up her fork to continue with her chicken alfredo, she sees that Mar’i’s attention is back on Damian. Her little fingers reach for the necklace around his shirt, grasping the chain she knows has two dog tags on them — both with written words in Arabic. Raven hadn’t gotten close enough to try to read them. Not that she’s fluent anyway.

The slight burrow of Damian’s brows is the only sign of his hesitancy towards the little girl. Raven watches as he drops his own fork, then attempts to gently pry Mar’i’s fingers from them. Instead of letting go completely, Mar’i decides to grab one of his fingers in all of her tiny ones.

There’s that funny feeling again, working its way up into a lump in the back of her throat as Damian looks down at their hands in a quiet wonder. Kori smothers a laugh while Richard watches, looking strangely proud.

“She loves her Uncle Dami,” Richard says, chuckling when Damian sends a bewildered look his way. He motions back down to Mar’i’s fingers.

“They’re so… small,” he says, looking back to their joined hands.

“I know right? It’s crazy. I still can’t believe that we have her sometimes, it’s so unreal. Being a parent is…”

“Unlike anything I could have ever imagined,” Kori finishes, a faraway smile on her face. Mar’i swings her head back over to her mother, babbling in confirmation. Richard chuckles at the noise.

“One-hundred percent.”

Raven swallows hard.

The rest of dinner goes as smoothly as she can expect with the growing storm of emotions threatening to spill over with every stolen glance to the pair across from her. She forces herself to eat, if just to stop anyone else from asking too many questions.

Her mind drifts as the conversation takes another turn. To her friends. To everyone that had scattered with the winds over the years. Gar to adventure with Terra wherever they wanted — and about to be married. Kori and Richard, now settled in Blüdhaven with Mar’i. Even Jamie, apparently finding love in his hometown.

Damian had stayed with her in Jump. As much as she wanted to ask why back then when the Titans officially disbanded years ago, she still hasn’t.

Mostly because she’s not sure she’s ready to hear his answer.

Dinner is over when Mar’i begins to fuss, and it heightens to the point that she can’t be consoled. She doesn’t want to listen to the Tameranean lullabies of her mother, or the soft rocking of her father. She doesn’t want the warm milk Richard heats up for her, or even the pacifier that Kori tries to stick in her mouth. As time goes on and her parents run out of options, nothing seems to quiet her down.

Raven’s eyes soften in understanding that sometimes you don’t know what you want or need.

Raven takes the time to clean up after everyone while the screaming ensues, waving Kori off when she thanks her profusely and apologizes all in the same breath. Richard walks away further into the house, most likely in search of something to help calm Mar’i down.

“No worries at all, truly. Thank you for inviting us over,” Raven responds in earnest.

The invites had started to climb since Mar’i was born. It’s easier to invite them because of her ability to create portals. And the boom tube of course, with one now built inside of their home for easy travel. Still, Raven figures that both Kori and Richard haven’t had a night out in months. It’s probably also easier to have Mar’i at home, and Raven doesn’t mind in the slightest.

Except for the little moments that throw her off balance until she’s teetering off the edge into something she doesn’t understand.

Which has inadvertently caused her current predicament.

So focused on her own thoughts and rinsing off plates, Raven nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand at her lower back. She doesn’t have to look behind her to know it’s Damian.

His touch burns her through the silk shirt of her blouse.

“Let me help,” he says, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up and his arm brushes against hers. The grip on her sponge slackens as a familiar heat runs through her. She takes a step to the side.

“I’m okay, you can—”

“Take her, please. I don’t know what else to do.” Kori unceremoniously pushes Mar’i up against Damian’s chest, and he’s forced to put his arms around her to keep her from falling.

“Just hold her for a minute while I run her a bath, that usually helps calm her down.” Kori runs away just as fast as she came, yelling across her shoulder, “Thank you!”

Mar’i’s face is an angry red as hot tears roll down her face. Damian wraps a hand around the back of her head to keep her secure against his chest while the other settles against her bottom. For a minute or two all either of them can hear is her high-pitched screaming. Raven holds back a grimace.

Then Damian starts to hum a low, foreign tune, while patting her bottom gently.

Raven chokes back on a suggestion, enamored by the way Damian seems to immediately calm her.

Mar’i hiccups, tears still falling but not as frequent as Damian continues his hum in her ear. It’s some kind of lullaby, that much she can tell. Mar’i moves her head to stare up at him with big eyes, just as bright as her mother’s.

Damian gently nudges her to settle her back against his chest in a move that makes her sigh with another hiccup. As Raven continues to clean up the kitchen by finding the tupperware and putting up the leftovers, Damian continues to hum and pat in a rhythm that quickly puts Mar’i to sleep.

The room falls silent while Raven sets the dishwasher to start. She glances back over in time to watch Damian place the smallest of kisses against Mari’i’s head.

It’s such a small and intimate gesture that takes Raven by surprise. It’s genuine, and raw, and the open look on his face nearly undoes her. Seeing this side of Damian with Mar’i only further threatens the hold over her power. She yanks back on the transparent black that encases a cup she missed, hoping that Damian doesn’t notice.

One look behind her shoulder tells her that he does.

“Grayson’s right. You have been on edge lately, any reason why? And don’t tell me it’s allergies because we both know that you were lying earlier.”

Raven just barely holds back her wince. She doesn't know why she ever thought she’d get something past him. For all the years they’ve spent together at the tower, she knows he can now read her like a book.

In fact, he knows exactly how she takes her tea, what time she likes to meditate in the afternoons. He even knows when she’s starting to get a migraine by the extra gel ice pack she finds in the freezer.

A frown tugs at the corners of her mouth.

He knows her.

So why does that terrify her so much?

“Honestly there’s just been a lot on my mind…” her voice falters, not able to meet his eyes because she knows he’ll see the half-truth in that statement.

“Raven…”

The sounds of her name from his lips brings her eyes right back up to his.

She knows he won’t push her — that he’ll always defer to her choice when to speak her mind. She also knows that he allows her to hear the concern in his voice just as he can hear the uncertainty is hers.

She starts to chew the inside of her cheek, a habit she had picked up after gaining the freedom to express her emotions more. A nervous one that Damian knows from the way his brows knit further together. She sighs, opting to ignore the question altogether and focus the attention back on Mar’i.

“I’m impressed, and a little jealous that you’re so good with her,” she admits jokingly.

Damian sees through her blatant attempt at avoiding him, but thankfully he allows it.

“I’m not sure why all it took was me holding her,” he admits.

“Maybe because of your energy. You’re always calm and so sure of yourself.” It’s just a theory but Raven has a hunch Mar’i might already be stepping into some of her power.

“I imagine Mar’i might be able to sense that.”

Damian looks at her, his face now unreadable, and Raven can tell that he’s analyzing her words — trying to figure out what exactly they mean.

No doubt from years of back-handed compliments from not only the press but also the socialites of high society as a Wayne. She briefly remembers an encounter with a Calloway that left with the blonde man on the floor of the Wayne Manor ballroom clutching his nose and loudly cursing. If Raven was correct, Damian had simply rolled his sleeve back down and walked promptly outside to the balcony, ignoring the stares that followed.

But there was no ill intent to her words now.

“I’m serious. Mar’i seems to be a bit of an empath in my opinion.”

“Hmm, maybe.” Damian says, although still unconvinced. Raven shrugs, then resists the urge to bite her lip, looking for a reason to cut their conversation short. She doesn’t want them to circle back to talking about her just yet.

“I’ll go look for Kori, maybe since Mar’i is asleep they’ll want to put her down.”

Damian nods, still patting the little girl in his arms in fear that she may wake again. Raven tears her gaze from him, if a bit reluctantly, and goes in search of her friend.

Raven had always felt close with Kori, even as a younger teen when trust didn’t come easy. Kori tore down her walls just as quickly as Raven had tried to build them back up. She paved the bridge of friendship between them and after a while Raven stopped running from it.

Now, with a little care and communication, they had grown together in a way that Raven thinks fondly of.

Yet with the closeness that Raven feels with Kori now, she can’t quite bring herself to talk about what’s been bothering her. Not that she’s figured it out herself. To be fair she hasn’t really tried, and has been avoiding thinking about it more than anything. But dinner has suddenly brought it to the forefront, and the only thing that she now knows for certain is that Damian is at its centerfold.

Raven finds Kori in the guest bathroom, kneeling over the tub on her knees as it’s filling with water. She gives her back a soft smile, feeling the exhaustion in her aura weighing on her.

“Hey Kori,” Raven says gently to not startle her, “Mar’i fell asleep on Damian’s chest. I came to see if you wanted him to help you put her down in her crib.”

Kori’s relief from her words is immediate, “Oh yes that would be perfect. I’ll go get them, thank you Raven — and don’t think I didn’t hear you cleaning up in the kitchen. I hope you know we didn’t invite you over just to clean. Not that I’m not grateful of course, but you’re our guests.”

Raven waves off her concern, “You know I didn’t feel obligated in the slightest, now go ahead and get Mar’i. I’m sure you and Dick are ready to settle down for the night.”

“I’ve only slept five hours in the past three days. I. Am. Dying.”

The graying circles under her eyes are more prominent now that Raven gives a closer look, although with her tangerine colored skin it looks more purple than anything. Still, she can’t help but feel a little bad for her.

“Maybe you can get a night’s rest tonight.” Raven tells her with a hand on her shoulder in sympathy. It’s a fool’s hope really with a one-year old, but Raven still thinks it’s worth saying.

“A woman can dream,” Kori snorts, then covers Raven’s hand with her own. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

As Kori leaves Raven cuts off the water and pulls the plug. She has a feeling Mar’i will be skipping bath night as long as she sleeps soundly — and if Damian has anything to do with putting her down for the night, she will.

The thought of him again disquiets her. With a quick flick of the bathroom light, she strays back towards the living room and decides to take a seat on the couch to wait for them. At this point she knows it’s better to just stay out the way. Cleaning was the best way she could think of to help.

After a moment Damian walks back in alone while running a hand through the dark curls in his hair.

“She’s down. Kori and Richard are already in bed too. I think it’s okay to leave now.”

Raven nods and stands. Wordlessly she creates a portal back to their home at Titan’s tower. Even though they did disband years ago, it’s the only place that feels welcoming enough to stay.

Slipping through a wormhole of her own power always raises gooseflesh on her arms. It pulses through her veins when they both step in and back out in the common room.

Tonight it’s empty, but in a few days all of their friends will be in to visit just before the wedding. Somehow Raven had been roped into teleporting them all to the Grand Canyon the day of. She has a sneaking suspicion it’s more of an excuse for them to all be together in one place again — not that she minds.

She admits that she misses it all. Wait —

“I thought Jason and Rose were supposed to be coming in early before everyone else, shouldn’t they be here by now?” Raven asks.

The thud against a wall in a room further down the hallway is her answer. Damian scowls while Raven suppresses a smirk. “Well it’s a good thing there’s a guest masterbath in the bedroom I think they're in. We won’t have any awkward run-ins with each other.”

Damian snorts, “I’m glad that you’re able to see the positive in this, because I can’t.”

Raven hums in amusement, “There’s no other way to look at it now that they’re here.” She steps into the kitchen, “Tea?”

“Sure, I could use some before I go out on patrol.”

Starting the kettle is easy work, and the habitual movements help to ease her mind. Setting it on the stove, she reaches for two cups and grabs a packet of black tea and chamomile. Damian doesn’t have to tell her that black is his favorite, she just knows.

Sometimes it surprises her by how easy it is to talk to Damian, and the irony of that thought is not lost on her when dinner was so… unexpected.

“I’m thinking about inviting Kori and Rose to a girl’s night before the wedding. I think Kori needs a night out, and since Rose is here now I don’t want to leave her out.”

“Oh?” Damian raises his brow when he takes a seat on the stool in front of the island. “That could be… interesting.”

The corners of her mouth quirk together as she turns the dial to turn the heat to high on the stovetop.

“I just want her to be able to relax for a bit, and maybe talk with her about a few things…” her voice trails as she traces the marble in the countertop. “After tonight, do you think you could offer to watch Mar’i? Or even just go over to the house with Richard to keep him company. I’m sure —”

"Yes I can do that, just let me know what day.”

His quick response to her surprises her, and she thinks of calling him out on it but decides not to in the end. She’s sure he has his own reasons for helping too.

“Thank you, hopefully Kori will be up for it. I’ll check in with her tomorrow after she’s had more sleep.”

“Good idea.”

After that she brews in silence as Damian reviews the routes on his communicator for the night. They tend to alternate a couple of different pattern types, and have had to make some changes to include the docks for the next couple of weeks. Receiving an anonymous tip that a ‘deal’ was about to go down in the next week or so kept them extra alert. The details of that deal? Well neither of them have a clue, which is just a little worrisome.

Raven pours Damian’s tea into a to-go tumblr when it’s finished, knowing that he’ll want to take it with him.

She meets his eyes at the hand off, the brush of his fingers against hers sending a sharp tingle up her arm.

“Thank you,” he says, already making his way to the boom tube off in the corner of the common room that had just been recently installed.

Raven hesitates for a moment, the thought of the docks heavy on her mind, before she calls after him.

“Damian.” she waits until he twists back to her. His domino mask is already covering his eyes.

“... be careful.”

He actually smirks. “No promises.”

The flash of the boom tube declares his departure before she can respond. She rolls her eyes at his absence anyway.

There goes the root of all my troubles, off to make even more trouble.

Her hands cup her tea, taking a small comfort in the warmth it provides her.

What am I going to do with you?

It turns out Kori had been itching for a night without Mar’i.

Making plans had been easy enough.

Rose had wanted to go bar-hopping, and Kori wanted to bring over her new crochet projects. Raven decided on a compromise — a night in the common room. With lots of alcohol. And pizza.

It had taken both Rose and Kori awhile to warm up to each other and find some common ground, but after an hour or two everyone’s now laughing at one another in good fun. Raven’s sure the alcohol has more to do with it than anything else.

“Okay, so maybe a night in isn’t so bad.” Rose says, bending forward for another slice. The three of them had ended up on the floor of the common room, pizza boxes and wine bottles alike spread out. The heated flush of Raven’s cheeks is the only indication of her intoxication. Well, that and the wobble walk back from the bathroom. She plops down next to Rose with a chuckle from her lack of grace, waving at Kori with encouragement to go for another glass.

“I’m so glad we have Mar’i on formula now,” Kori tells them when she takes a sip straight from the bottle of sangria, “I’ve missed wine.”

Rose makes a face, “What I’m hearing is don’t have babies.” She barks out a laugh when Kori reaches across the pizza boxes to smack her arm.

“Mar’i is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We’re just struggling with getting her on a sleep schedule. Once we do that I swear babies aren’t difficult at all. It was really nice of Damian to babysit with Dick tonight so that I could come over.”

Rose gives Raven a knowing look, “Yes it was, wasn’t it? I heard about dinner the other night. Mar’i seems to love Wayne.”

“Yes definitely, he’s —”

“Speaking of Wayne!” Rose cuts Kori off in favor of turning directly to Raven, “What is this weird thing-not-thing going on between the two of you? It’s driving me crazy staying with you in this damn tower.”

In hindsight, Raven should have known that Rose would pick up on her sensitivity. At least some of it anyway. The interactions between her and Damian a few days after dinner had been amicable of course, but Damian had known she'd been acting strange here and there for a while. Raven responded in kind, retreating to what she knew best and avoiding him when she could. Solitude in the face of internal conflict will always be her greatest ally.

Raven frowns into her glass, deciding to take another gulp of her own wine. “What do you mean? Nothing’s going on between us. We’re just —”

“Don’t even say ‘we’re just friends’. That’s bullshit. Have you seen the way he looks at you Raven? He makes you tea in the morning. Tea! And it’s your favorite too, I noticed.”

“Oh that?” Kori says flippantly, “They’ve been doing that for years. I thought that finally they’d end up together when everyone else left the tower. Dick thinks it’ll be another year before Raven finally realizes that Damian’s completely in love with her.”

Even through the haze of her growing intoxication, Raven gives them a glare. “That’s not true. As close as you’re implying we are, wouldn't he have said something to me? And besides, I like our friendship. A lot. I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

“Damian’s been keeping it to himself for a reason Raven. Everyone knows how skittish you can be about feelings .” Kori bumps her shoulder with a laugh, then takes another swig from her bottle.

“It took us years for you to finally be comfortable even talking to me about things outside of Hero work or me and Dick.”

Raven knocks back the rest of her wine and decides that she needs another glass. “That’s different, you wrangled me into your friendship.”

Kori looks affronted, mouth poised to argue when Rose cuts her off again, “Yeah I can definitely see that happening. I can picture it now, Kori cornering a young teenage and timid Raven to try and convince her to be best friends.”

“It didn’t happen like that.”

Both Raven and Rose stare at her in disbelief at the same time. Kori holds up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, it kind of happened like that but look how it turned out? Better than what I thought.”

“Hmm, true.”

“So are you into him?” Rose directs the question to her.

Raven rolls her eyes. “If I tell you I think he’s hot will you stop asking more questions?”

“No, so you do think he’s hot.”

“I’m not blind Wilson.”

Hot is more of an understatement in her opinion, and the new suit that Damian had opted to start wearing out on patrol was doing him many favors. Not that she would ever admit that to either of them. That would just be adding more fuel to the fire.

“So have you fucked him yet?”

“Rose!” Kori yells at her.

“What? I’m just curious. Don’t tell me you guys have been living together, alone , for years and haven’t fucked.”

“No actually, we haven’t.” Raven’s brows knit together as her stomach tightens from something she’s not sure. Annoyance from Rose asking deeply personal questions so casually? Or jealousy at the sudden intrusive thought that maybe Damian has, but with someone else? If so, did he bring her to the tower?

“So you two haven’t even tried to just have a little fun. You know, do something casual? Like friends with benefits?” Rose asks her.

“Do you know me? I don’t do casual.”

“And neither does Damian,” Kori points out.

“So maybe he’s dating someone.”

Raven looks back at Rose with a dangerous look. The wine in her system doesn’t help hide her sudden disgust. She ignores the flip of her stomach that feels like nausea at the probability of Rose’s theory.

“I’m done talking about this.” She says, tone final. “Why don’t we talk about how you and Todd broke in the guest bedroom last night. We could hear you two from the common room.”

“Damn right, that shit was good too. We haven’t seen each other in months . Some of the best sex I’ve ever had.” Raven smirks while Kori chokes on her bottle.

Jason and Rose are like fire and air. Mix them together and they become a fire whirlwind, burning everything in its path. It’s passionate, sure, but unpredictable and something that would always keep Raven on edge.

“Dick and I have barely had sex since Mar’i’s been born,” Kori sighs, “It sucks.”

“No alcohol or sex? Yeah, I’m never having kids.”

Kori laughs, “Never say Never Rose, someone might come along and make you eat those words one day.”

“Gods I hope not.”

“Who knows, Jason might be working on that right now.”

The room erupts in laughter, and the conversation only further derails after that.

Raven wakes with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

With a groan, she blinks groggily as her head spins from the alcohol still thrumming in her body. Somehow she had made it to the couch with Rose at the other end, passed out.

Scattered pizza boxes litter the floor, one open and empty with the other with a couple pieces remaining. She doesn’t count but she does see a handful of empty wine bottles grouped together in the middle.

She doesn’t see Kori as she scans the room, but her eyes do land on the person that shook her awake.

Damian.

His quiet demeanor is a contrast from the clear amusement swimming in his eyes.

“Where’s Kori?” Raven asks, the sleepiness still evident in her voice.

“I helped her back home, Grayson has her.” Ah. That explains the fading light of the boom tube in the corner.

“Oh okay, how’d it go with Mar’i?” she asks, accepting his hand to help her sit up. A wave of vertigo hits her, and she leans heavily on the arm of the couch.

“It went well,” he takes another glance around the room, “how much did you drink?” he asks, taking note of the way she curls back into herself on the couch.

“Too much.”

Another voice speaks up behind Damian. “Yeah that checks out, by the wine bottles on the floor I’m sure you’re all still plastered.”

Jason.

She turns her attention to the end of the couch where he scoops up Rose effortlessly. She doesn’t even move in the slightest.

“You’re heavy as shit.” Jason talks down to her, but Raven can see the fondness in his eyes that betrays the truth. Rose isn’t heavy at all, and Jason’s enjoying having her around.

“See ya Wayne, Raven. Gonna take this one to bed.”

Damian spares him another glance, “Night.”

“Don’t you want to sleep in your bed too?” he asks her, leaning over a little closer that makes her heart jump.

The thought of getting up right now and walking anywhere is so unappealing that Raven burrows back further into the couch.

“It’s okay, just leave me here. I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning.” Intoxication didn’t last as long for a half-demon.

She closes her eyes with a small yawn, sleep threatening to take back over, which is perfectly fine with her. That way she doesn’t have to dissect the way Damian is looking at her right now, another unreadable expression on his face. Reading him had never been easy, but now with her own emotions at war with themselves, they’ve gotten in the way of being able to determine his.

There’s another moment of silence between them when Raven realizes that Damian is actually weighing the pros and cons of a decision. She opens her mouth, is about to ask him what’s wrong, when he stoops down closer to her.

One of his arms weaves its way around her waist while the other settles under the back of her knees.

A small squeak of surprise escapes her when he lifts her, cuddling her body close to his chest. Her arms wrap around his neck instinctually to help stay balanced in his own.

“You’ll get a cramp in your neck if you sleep here,” he says simply, explaining away the question in her eyes.

“I can walk to my bedroom if I wanted to Damian,” she reasons with him, though not exactly resisting as he continues to carry her down the hallway.

“I know,” his breath is warm on her neck, “but you didn’t want to.”

Raven holds her tongue, only because she knows he’s right — and he does too from the small smirk on his face. Thankfully he doesn’t say anything else when they get to her bedroom, and the door scans her for entry.

It slides open and Damian steps inside. Raven suddenly feels uncomfortable with him seeing her room. It’s not like he hasn't seen it before.

But he hasn’t, at least not now that she doesn’t even know what to think of him anymore. Not when she feels so… vulnerable.

It’s cozy, and packed full of things but not messy. The shelves need dusting, and the books need to be re-stacked. It’s a show of her true nature — organized chaos. Damian doesn’t seem to mind. He only takes a short glance, probably out of her respect for privacy, and walks straight to her bed.

He helps her slide under the covers, and is careful not to touch her more than necessary. It makes her heart squeeze. This barrier that seems to be growing between them since dinner is unwanted, but she feels helpless to fix.

Damian hesitates as he leans over her, the closeness between them oddly intimate. She notices his dog tags have slipped out of his shirt, and she impulsively reaches for them. He watches quizzically as her fingers glide over the indentations.

She doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol, or the sudden change in tension between them, but she finally decides to indulge in her curiosity.

“What do they say?” she asks him.

“laā yuhimmu kam ʾanta baṭīʾ ṭaalamā ʾannaka lan tatawaqqaf. It means ‘It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.’”

The air feels heavy when Raven takes a breath, “and the other one?”

Damian gives her a look, one that holds too many emotions for her to understand.

“I’ll tell you what that one means another time.”

For the first time in a long time Titan’s Tower is full of heroes.

There’s an excited energy all around as the rooms fill with chatter as more and more people begin to show, dressed up for the wedding. Some people hadn’t seen each other in years.

Raven’s content to keep to herself in one corner of the common room, exchanging pleasantries with the people who approach her. Damian is somewhere in the chaos, but she doesn’t try to look for him yet. Not when just thinking about him is causing her stomach to tie into knots.

“Hey Raven, it’s good to see you!”

Raven turns with a smile. “It’s good to see you too Donna, you look great.” Her black dress covered in sequins accentuated her curves in a way that made many heads turn at her arrival. That and her charming personality can make anyone she wants to fall to their knees in front of her.

“Me? You look breathtaking, girl. Blue is such a good color on you.”

Raven accepts the compliment with grace, something she’s been working more on doing. She slides a hand over her satin dress. The ends of it reach her toes, with a long slit up one side that gives everyone a slight tease of a long leg. Her black heels only emphasize the swell of her calf, the ankle strap a final touch.

“Thank you. How are you?”

“Oh fantastic, work has been going well and crime is starting to slow down. Maybe because we’re finally getting some good weather and people want to enjoy it for a change. Who knows. How’s patrol in Jump going? I spoke with Wayne earlier and heard that there might be some kind of trade deal at the docks?”

“Yeah,” Raven sighs, walking Donna to the kitchen in search of something to drink, “Last night there was some movement, but not much else going on. I’m starting to think it’s all a hoax but I don't know. I guess we’ll find out soon.”

“Hmm, well there’s no need to worry about it right now. Wayne doesn’t seem too worried about it either so I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Raven holds back the retort that she isn’t worried, and that Donna’s the one who brought it up in the first place.

“Yeah, punch?” Raven asks her, gesturing to the island in the middle of their kitchen. An assortment of light snacks filled the table, along with punch, tea, and water. Raven’s grateful that Kori came over earlier to help her and Damian put it all together.

“Oh nice, thanks. So…” Donna trails, smiling sheepishly when she accepts the glass Raven hands her, “is Damian seeing anyone by chance?”

Raven’s hold tightens on her own glass of water she poured for herself. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Oh good, I was thinking about asking him out later after the wedding. It’d be nice to catch up in Jump again — see what all’s changed.”

“Go for it.” Raven clears her throat when Donna gives her an odd look at her curt tone, “I just mean I’m sure he’d… appreciate the company.”

“Are you sure? Because if you’re —”

Raven’s not exactly sure what Donna is about to say but she doesn’t let her say it at all. “I’m not. You should ask him.”

Donna blinks, then laughs, “It looks like some things haven’t changed after all. Don’t worry, I won’t.” She throws her a wink, “I’ll see if Roy is free tonight. I’ve always had a thing for red-heads anyway.”

Raven deigns not to answer, instead taking a long drink of her water. Not because she really needs it but to keep her from revealing anything that might give her away. That and she doesn’t need to explain anything to anyone, not even Donna.

A quick glance at the microwave tells her that it’s nearly time. She takes a breath, preparing to create a portal that will last long enough for everyone to get through. It will be tenuous at best, but it should work. Should.

The sound of an announcement in the common room distracts her from her thoughts, especially when a small group starts making their way over to the boom tube.

“They’re probably lining up for the boom tube since the wedding’s about to begin.” Donna says.

“Boom tube? I thought that everyone was going through my portal?”

“I’m not sure,” Donna looks as confused as she feels, “Damian’s been going around the room and assigning a specific time for everyone to go through. A lot of people are already gone.”

Raven’s eyes dart to the common room that now looks a lot emptier than it had been about five minutes ago.

“Looks like my time is in another minute,” Donna gives her a wave, “I’ll see you there.”

Raven tells her bye, and stands there as the rest begin to file out, one by one until there’s only her and Damian. Her eyes meet him across the room before he whips his head in a signal to come join him. She does just that, taking the time to appreciate his suit.

It’s Armani, of course, black and sleek, and it’s fitted to him perfectly. The pant legs do nothing to hide what’s beneath, and she feels her neck heat at the sight. One hand is tucked into his pocket while the other is holding the boom tube open for the both of them. As she walks closer she realizes that he’s wearing a darker navy blue tie — nearly identical to the color of her dress.

Only when she reaches him does she ask him why they weren’t going by portal.

“I didn’t want you to overexert yourself so I had a boom tube placed at the site of the wedding temporarily.”

His gesture hits her hard, and she doesn’t know what to think when he reaches out his hand for hers. She places it in his delicately as he helps her step up inside.

“I probably would’ve been fine, you know. I’m sure there wouldn’t have been much to worry about.”

Damian steps in after her, his chest brushing up against her back as the door slides shut behind them.

“Well now neither of us have to worry at all.”

She turns to face him and smiles.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you Raven.”

Her eyes widen at his words and the blatant truth in his voice. Suddenly the air around them feels hot, and she leans back up against the wall, trying to put as much space in between them as possible. The proximity of him, the small space of the boom tube, his words — it all feels like too much. She feels the familiar tug of her body as they teleport — something that lasts only milliseconds.

By the time they’re on the other side she’s breathing hard, not feeling like she’s getting enough air. The boom tube isn’t opening fast enough and it’s still too hot. She’s getting lightheaded and the pounding beat of her heart is only getting faster. The door begins to slide open, but before she can slip away Damian has a hand on her wrist.

He pulls her back inside, shuts the door, and presses the button with the AC. The cool air helps a little, but there’s still a rising panic in her that she can’t tame. Raven has half a mind to slide down the wall to hug her knees but Damian grasps her shoulders, forcing her to face him.

“Hey Raven, look at me. Look at me.” Emerald eyes search hers imploringly and she chokes back a sob.

“I-I can’t do this, Damian, I don’t know what’s wrong with —”

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he says. His words are gentle and soothing as his hands begin to rub her bare arms. Up and down, forcing her to stay tethered to the present. Not allowing her to retreat into her mind.

“Just breathe, Raven. We’re not going anywhere until you breathe.”

It takes a few minutes. He starts whispering to her in Arabic, much like the way he took care of Mar’i, and that thought puts a heavy weight on her chest. She breathes through it anyway knowing that the wedding will start at any moment, and she doesn’t want them to be late. When her breaths become more even Damian pulls her into his chest, wrapping her into a hug.

“Whatever is going on is okay. I’m not going anywhere and neither are any of our friends. You’re okay, and it’s okay that you don’t know what you’re feeling.”

Raven inhales a shuddering breath.

She doesn’t know that she needs to hear him say all of those things so desperately until they’re already spoken. She takes a moment to cling to him, to thank him, before pulling back. Whatever Damian sees in her face must be enough for him to deem her capable enough to go back outside because he opens the door. Then he takes her hand again.

“Watch your step,” he murmurs to her, helping her across the rocks to the venue. The sight of it is breathtaking. An archway is just a couple of feet away from a ledge that overlooks the entire Northern rim, and Raven sees that most of the chairs are already full of their friends. Garfield is already at the front, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve and trying not to bite a hole with his canines from worrying his lip in a nervous tic.

Raven smiles, because even though it’s clear that he’s nervous, she can also tell that he’s happy. It’s all she’s ever wanted for him, and he deserves it.

They find a seat in the back just before the ceremony begins. Damian puts his hand on the back of her chair, steadying her. For once she decides to lean into it, finding it to be a comfort.

Terra’s dress suits her perfectly. It’s whimsical with long sleeves that hang off of her shoulder, with the length of her dress flaring out with floral and vine lace covering the bodice. Her hair is braided down her back with a string of hair pulled out and curled around her face. She’s gorgeous, and she can tell that Gar thinks so too. The love and excitement is pure in both of their eyes solely focused on each other.

The ceremony doesn’t last long, but it is beautiful and genuine, and Raven stands and claps with everyone else as the newly weds are announced. Terra and Garfield practically race back down the aisle.

It’s a welcoming sight. Raven smiles softly the entirety of the reception, even when meeting Jamie’s fiancée. From the moment she sees them she knows it’s a good match.

“They look good together,” Damian says from beside her with two glasses of water in each hand. He gives one to her.

“Yes, they do. I’m sure we’ll be getting another invitation soon.”

“How are you feeling?” he asks her.

“I’m okay actually. Thank you… for earlier.” She runs a nervous hand down the length of her dress to smooth it out.

“You don’t ever have to thank me Raven.”

He stays with her the rest of the night, which more than a few people notice, Donna included. When she smirks in Raven’s direction she doesn’t even scowl back.

For some reason her mind is more at ease than it has been in weeks.

The trade at the docks happens the next night.

It’s around 3 o’clock in the morning whenever a small fishing boat slips up with the mooring line. Three people, dressed head to toe in black, get out with multiple coolers that look dubious. Mostly likely drugs . Then from the right, five more meet them on the dock, dressed the same.

Damian signals to her from the other side of the building, and she nods her understanding. She presses the button on her cloak silently, alerting the JCPD of their location.

They take them by surprise, but they recover quickly. A few of them barricade behind barrels while Damian starts to fight off the three that are scrambling back inside the boat.

It’s not until Raven hears the first gunshot when she realizes they all have weapons.

It takes her another moment to realize the gun had been aimed at her whenever the sharp pain flares at her side, and her hand presses it. When she brings it back up to her face shakily it’s covered in blood.

Then more start to ring out, and Raven drops to her knees. She remembers that Damian is on the other side of the group of thugs still fighting on the boat. He hadn’t seen her get shot, still hasn’t had the time to even look in her direction. She tosses up a quick shield just before bullets rain down in his direction. They bounce off her shields uselessly and Raven releases a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

Another wave of her power throws everyone in the crossfire back. Some hit the water with a loud splash while others scrape up against concrete away from the docks. Damian takes advantage of the momentary distraction, apprehending everyone still on the ground with quick, practiced motions.

Raven attempts to stand, but stumbles back to her knees. She feels around the wound, her finger prodding for the bullet that’s still lodged inside. She bites back a cry at the pain, her teeth gritting. It will need to come out before she can heal herself, but she’s starting to lose more blood than she’s comfortable with. She takes off her cloak. The material is too strong to tear so she wraps the entire thing around her waist anyway. It will have to do.

As Damian pulls the last one out of water and throws him on the ground, black spots are beginning to dance in her vision.

She can hold on until he finishes the job. They’ve been looking into this lead for weeks, she won’t ruin it all by letting him know that she’s bleeding out. I can make it.

Squatting is no longer an option. Raven finds herself forced to lay down on the concrete, her hand tucked into her side to staunch as much of the blood as she can. The pain heightens to a point that makes the rest of her body feel numb.

She clings to consciousness as long as she can, until she’s sure that Damian has arrested them all. The police will be here at any moment and can take over.

By the time Damian finally looks up and is searching for her the adrenaline wears off. All she feels is pain, so whenever unconsciousness calls back out to her she answers.

He finds her as she’s losing the battle.

“Shit, shit. Raven!”

She’s fading rapidly when he reaches her. One hand cradles the back of her head while the other presses into her wound. She hisses weakly.

His voice sounds like it’s underwater.

“Hold on Raven, not yet,” he presses on her wound more insistently, the pain causing her to stay conscious. Then he’s pulling out gauze and hydrogen peroxide and medical scissors from his belt.

His words are rushed and thick with emotion, “I need you to stay awake, you’re losing too much blood. You have to portal us to the med-bay now. You won’t make it if you don’t.”

It sounds like too much, every breath is more agonizing and tiresome than the last.

“ Please habibti, you have to try.”

Her eyes open at the pleading in his voice.

With her remaining strength she does her best to meet his request, and portals them back to the tower.

The look in his eyes is the last thing that she sees before she drowns in a sea of darkness.

Fear.

There’s no noise when she wakes.

She’s in her healing trance, hovering above the hospital bed. By the familiarity of the metal walls she knows that they made it to the med-bay. A sweep of the room also tells her that she almost didn’t make it. Blood covered just about every instrument. The bullet lays in a tray beside her. She looks down at herself, noticing for the first time that she’s not wearing anything except for a pair of sweatpants. Her entire upper body is covered in gauze. Specks of blood dot where she had been shot. She won’t need to change it again fortunately, her healing trance had made sure of that.

Her eyes continue to scan the room until she sees Damian, hunched over in a chair right beside her. His head is in his hands, not yet knowing that she’s awake. His hair is askew. She imagines that he probably ran his hands through it over and over. He’s still wearing his uniform, covered in her blood. Guilt sweeps through her, knowing that she’s the cause of so much worry.

“Damian,” she whispers.

He jolts upright so fast that the metal chair falls backwards. He doesn’t care, his eyes are on hers as he grasps her hand.

“Raven, you made it,” he chokes on his words. “Do you need me to change your dressing?”

“No I don’t think so.” she tells him softly, then lowers herself on the bed to lay down. He helps her adjust. “I think I’ll be sore for a while, but I’m okay. Thank you for saving me.”

He sighs deeply, “You scared me Raven. Never do that again. Never wait to tell me if you’ve been hurt. You could have died. You almost did .”

“I know,” she whispers, squeezing his hand, “I’m sorry.”

They’re silent for a few minutes, with Damian stroking her hand with his fingers. She lets him, figuring that he needs the touch to remind himself that it was just a close call, nothing more.

“Did the JCPD get all the arrests?” she asks, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Damian says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand, “They found fentanyl in the coolers. Enough to OD the entire city. Interrogations are going on right now. They think they’re just pawns in a much bigger drug deal.”

“That makes sense,” she says, chewing on his words, “Looks like almost dying was worth it.” She jokes darkly.

“No,” He shoots her a sharp glare, “Almost losing you was not worth it Raven. It will never be worth it. When will you realize that?”

The veracity in his words is like a slap in the face. She recoils at them. “I’m sorry Damian, I was just trying to do the right thing.”

He breathes deep, seemingly at war with himself on how to respond. He settles for acceptance. “I know you did, I’m not going to say that it was okay, because it wasn’t. But it happened, and at least you’re here. Just don’t do that again.”

She swallows the lump in the back of her throat. “Okay.”

“Get some rest, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you Damian, I am too.”

Damian isn’t there when she wakes, but this time she’s in her own bed. She smiles softly, knowing that Damian probably wanted her to be more comfortable, but also didn’t want to intrude in her space.

A familiar feeling blossoms in her chest that Raven wants to pull back down, but she doesn’t. She lets it stay, and the longer it does, the more she realizes it’s not as scary as she thinks it is.

It grows with each thought of the past few weeks. All the little moments that Raven had ignored, now resurfacing with a renewed vigor. It pumps through her veins, filling her completely.

It all hits her at once.

She doesn’t know how she could have been so oblivious to it all.

Maybe she did see it, but favored ignorance so that things wouldn’t have to change.

But change happens whether I like it or not.

She gets up, pushing past the aching muscles in her side to get dressed. Confronting her feelings is long overdue, and she can’t afford to put it off any longer. Not with the thought of dying without telling Damian about how she feels.

She finds him outside, looking out across the bay. Laps of water splash gently against the rocks. The wind whips her hair as she draws closer. If Damian notices her presence he doesn’t acknowledge it. She can see that he’s deep in thought with the far away look on his face, brows knitted together.

She sits down beside him.

He meets her stare when she looks at him. She takes a breath, it’s now or never.

“You love me,” she states, looking into his eyes for confirmation. His expression doesn’t change, he’s not surprised. He just stares right back.

“Yes,” he says simply.

Raven sucks in a breath, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You weren’t ready for me to tell you,” he says as his eyes soften, “It would have scared you.”

“That’s — true,” she admits with a frown, “I’m still scared, but, I love you too.”

He smiles, “I know.”

“You do?”

“Yes, but that’s okay. I didn't mind waiting for you to figure it out.”

She laughs then, bewildered by him. The wind reveals the dog tags underneath his shirt, and Raven decides to ask again.

“Will you tell me what the other one means now?”

He recites to her first in Arabic. A poem.

“في أيّام الصيف.. أَتمدّد على رمال الشاطئ وأمارس هوايةَ التفكير بكِ.. لو أنّني أقول للبحر.. ما أشعر به نحوكِ لترك شواطئَه.. وأصدافَه.. وأسماكَه.. وتبعني”

Then he holds her stare when he translates, “ In the summer I stretch out on the shore And think of you. Had I told the sea What I felt for you, It would have left its shores, Its shells, Its fish, And followed me.”

With tears in her eyes she reaches for him so that she can rest her forehead against his.

“I love you.”

He responds to her in kind, his mouth whispering against her lips for the first time.

“I love you too.”

#damirae #damian x raven #fanfic #damiraeweek23 #which prompt is this?....yes #it's kind of fluff and angst I guess?#Mostly just Raven trying to figure out what 'feelings' are #silly girl #damirae week 2023

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