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universestreasures · 1 year

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@blasterdiablo (Yet another Club drabble for an idea I had to get out that you do not have to respond to but tagging you anyway LOL)

Dreams were a weird thing. At times, you could wake up remembering every thing in vivid detail as if it really happened to you. Others, you could recall nothing at all what you saw. Though, surely the dream Asaka was having right now would fall into the former category, a dream that seemed so intense and real it was as if it was a memory.

The college student finds herself in an unfamiliar location, one where silver weapons decorated the walls and It was a dark space that's only light came from the few candles from fixtures on the walls. She shifts her head to further examine the place, quickly realizing she wasn't alone in this strange room. Yes, with her right now was...

"Ren...? What are you doing here? And where is here?" She questions, being unable to get a good look at him. Much of his body, other than his red locks, were being concealed by the darkness that surrounded them, after all. Slowly, she approaches him, being careful where she steps, but eventually stops once she makes it in front of him and is able to see him clearly as the room suddenly becomes brighter with the addition of more candles being lit.

And what she sees before her icey blue hues is an image she never wished to see. It was a sight that can only be best described as her worst fear brought to life. What she sees is her love, the person she most treasured in this world, covered in blood from head to toe. His eyes were wide, his body covered in bruises and slash marks that could be seen through unfamiliar clothes, and most shockingly of all, his stomach had been peirced with a black sword, one that resembled the one Ren had hung up over their bed in their bedroom.

Worst yet...that sword wasn't stuck in there. No, it was being held there by something. As soon as Asaka's gazes follows the end blade to the handle...she realizes just what or rather who was holding it. The one who had presumably stabbed Ren, who presumably caused him great suffering was...was...

Herself.

"W-What?! This...This can't...This can't be! I wouldn't...! I couldn't...! I'd never...!"

It's then that his body finally limps and falls on her, bringing both her and him down to the cold stone ground. His blood now stains her own body, both now covered in the red substance that to vampires symbolized life and to humans symbolized death. A hand is swiftly placed on his neck, checking it for the sign of a pulse. However, it just as quickly goes limp as soon as she feels nothing coming from it, a coldness now surging through her body like it had just been hit with a winter breeze.

Ren was...dead because of her.

Ren had been killed...because of her.

Ren had been killed...by her.

Just as she always feared might happen to him one day...

"No..."

"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Her cries of agony echo throughout the dark room and back in her shared dorm room with Ren. They were so loud that they were probably heard by those in the floors below them, such as Aichi and Kai. Her eyes then shoot open, sweat dropping down her face as she quickly sits up and breaths in and out heavily trying to process everything. Though, her concern quickly switched from her own well being to search around her room, looking for the person who she had just witnessed being killed by her own hands.

However, Ren wasn't...in the room with her. She checked the closet. She checked their balcony. She even checked under the bed to see if he was trying to prank her or something. He wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere she looked. And that fact...made her body start to shake, Asaka's knees buckling as she sinks to the floor in the center of their shared space.

Asaka had a reputation of being strong and beautiful, the person who knew how to hold it together and get things done. She was the one who started the Pale Moon Club in the first place. If it wasn't for her efforts, her kind wouldn't have a sanctuary in this human-run university. The club president she prided herself on being was far from the horrified woman who was on the floor now, the one who was slowly starting to cry as panic and worry took over regarding the current fate of her beloved human.

"Ren...Ren you can't be...You can't be...dead... All because of me...Because of a miserable creature like me...A creature who doesn't deserve you...or the love you've given me..."

#💎 Crystalized Hidden Gems (Drabble)#💎 Assassin Treasure (Asaka Narumi)#💎 King Of The Blasters Of Darkness (Blasterdiablo)#💎 Assassin's Hidden Sanctuary For The Cursed Crimson (Asaka Pale Moon Club AU)#tw long post #tw blood #tw vampire #tw death #tw dark imagery #tw killing #(A Chan getting Luquier dreams cause Kai Aichi and Ren cant have all the flashback fun #(MY HORT FOR POOR AH CHAN I CANNOT #(I ICONED HER FIGHT WITH REN IN V CAUSE THOSE EXPRESSIONS JUST FIT THIS WELL CAUSE OMG THE ANGST #(Like i said before you dont gotta respond to this if you don't want to its a drabble lol but if you want a asaren warmup here #(I FIGURE RENS LIKE GETTING A MIDNIGHT SNACK OR IS IN THE BATHROOM OR SOMETHING IS JUST GONNA COME BACK TO ASAKA A MESS #(WE HAVNT WRITTEN REN COMFORTING A CHAN YET SO THATS ANOTHER THING WE CAN DO HERE #(IF YOU WANNA RESPOND TO THIS

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lovifie · 2 months

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After a long day at work, you made your way back home. If you hadn't been so tired, you would have probably taken more notice of the multiple police cars around your building, or the fact that the parking lot was empty.

But you didn't.

And once you had parked the car, you walked up to the elevator... only to be met by four uniformed military men looking at you like you just discovered the moon.

“I thought we had cleared the building?”

Lift Me Off My Feet Masterlist

Original Thought

Chapter 1: New Beginnings (Gaz)

Chapter 2: Captain’s Dinner (Price)

Chapter 3: Poltergeist (Ghost)

Chapter 4: Midnight Snack (Soap)

Chapter 5: Home Sweet Home (Gaz + Price)

Chapter 6: Boundaries (Ghost+ Soap)

Chapter 7: Price’s Date (Price)

Chapter 8: Training Session (Price)

Chapter 9: Soap’s Date (Soap + Ghost)

Chapter 10: Ghost’s Date (Ghost + Price)

Chapter 11: Gaz’s Date (Gaz)

Chapter 12: Finale

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paperultra · 9 months

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mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

#opla #one piece #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #opla zoro #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #once again i underestimated how long this would take. hoowee #opla zoro my grumpy old man :)#good thing reader is coming along otherwise he'd NEVER make it to mirror ball island rip

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seonghwaddict · 10 months

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one more minute — choi san

in which you indulge in some midnight snacks and kisses in the kitchen.

bf!choi san x fem!reader. genre. established relationship. fluff. warnings. a little, tiny make out sesh but nothing else. wc. 0.6k.

lilo's notes. i’m a little sick so updates on both the event and nsn will be a bit slow. but anyways, here’s a little san drabble i wrote at 3 am :>

listening to. rises the moon, liana flores.

masterlist.

your eyes fluttered open to be met with darkness, the first thing you noticed was the arm draped around your waist. turning your head to look behind you, you caught sight of your dear boyfriend, san, sleeping soundly, his face lit by the dim moonlight seeping in through the gaps in the curtains.

silent snores left his mouth and you smiled, wondering how on earth you were lucky enough to call this perfect man yours. but the silent moment of admiring him was ruined when your stomach grumbled quietly, reminding you what you woke up for. after taking one last look at san and pressing a light kiss to his forehead, you wiggled yourself out of his grip without waking him up and walked down to the kitchen for some food.

you grabbed a paper plate and put a slice of pizza from the night before on it, placing it in the microwave. then you grabbed a mug, filled it with water and set it next to the paper plate before closing the microwave's door, pressing some buttons and starting it up.

a familiar arm wrapped around your waist from the back as san’s other arm brushed your hair away from your neck, nuzzling his face into it as he dropped the hand to wrap it around your waist as well. he placed gentle pecks on your neck and shoulder, nudging the fabric of your neckline to the side to access as much of your soft skin as possible.

you chuckled and turned your face to the side, your eyes meeting his soft brown ones. without averting your eyes, you turned in his grip and wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug. he smelled faintly of peppermint and the shampoo you keep in your bathroom.

you pulled away from each other and he moved his fingertips under your shirt, his knuckles brushing against your sides. his touch sent sparks and goosebumps travelling through your whole body, a feeling you were well acquainted with.

“i love you," he whispered, lips brushing against yours.

you smiled, muttering a heartfelt, "i love you, too."

he leaned his face in and your lips connected in a kiss, moving in a slow and synchronised rhythm, lips slotting together like perfect puzzle pieces. instinctively, your hands travelled up and tangled themselves in his already messy chestnut locks of hair. his grip on your waist tightened, trying to close every remaining millimetre of space between your bodies.

he bit down on your bottom lip, his hands simultaneously gliding up and down your waist, fingertips brushing just beneath your breasts before dropping to your hips and squeezing twice. knowing what that meant with him, you jumped up and warped your legs around his torso, his firm hands supporting you under your thighs. as if you had done this multiple times before—which you have—he turned and set you on the empty counter behind him, standing between your legs.

you continued, your kisses turning desperate and bruising. but before he could take it any further, the microwave's timer rang and you pulled away with a mischievous smile and flushed cheeks. your boyfriend groaned as you inched your way around him and got off the counter to grab your food.

"baby," he whined, drawing out the last syllable, "just… one more minute?"

"i don't want my food to get cold," you laughed and took a bite of the pizza, a playful pout on your lips. "you’re very needy when you're tired."

"at least give me some of the pizza?"

you considered it for a moment before turning and walking to the living room with a broad grin. "i’m not your mom, you can get it yourself, love," you called over her shoulder, resisting the urge to giggly at his dumbfounded expression.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu

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mimiriko · 11 months

Text

You are increasingly becoming aware that bringing the exact amount of change to the vending machine was a risk. A risk you never make because this particular machine is notorious for malfunctioning and dropping snacks.

It’s near midnight. A lone breeze brushes past and ruffles your nightwear, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You could go back to your room, but there’s a tender soreness in your legs from the days work. It’s too troublesome for the mere purpose of sweetening your mouth.

But your chocolate…

“You’re still up?”

A figure shadows you. You look up to your right, and see the moon in the form of bedhair. Sometimes, he forgoes his glasses when everything is casted in black and slightly easy on his eyes, so you’re met with blue rimmed with snow peering down at you.

“Hungry,” you respond, focusing back on the task at hand. Cautiously, experimentally, you tip the machine further right, small uniform shakes to loosen the kitkat stuck on the edge, an arrow away from a bullseye. Satoru stretches next to you, idly releasing the kinks in his neck. “I wanted to sleep early today,” he bemoans, slumping to your side and stays put, even with you floundering with his weight.

“Quit it!” you yelp, tightening your grip on the machine. You’re finally making progress and he decides to set you back three steps.

“Suguru told me i’m getting eye bags,” he prattles, rubbing at the aforementioned place, “I cannot have eye bags. Imagine that! My perfect sky blue eyes and dull skin underneath. It will ruin my whole look.”

Almost there…you feel yourself going cross eyed from staring at the kitkat for so long. The hook of metal around the corner of the package is slipping, just a little jostle away from setting your chocolate free.

But you stop.

You notice it’s suddenly quiet.

The reflection of the display glass allows you to see him staring just as you are, attentively watching if you make it out of here happily or suicidal. You straighten a bit, weirdly put on the spot.

“Hey…why don’t you just—“ his hands shoot out, shaking it ten times rougher than you.

Your alarms blare. “Wait wait wait—”

Your kitkat is set free.

And you watch it drop to the row below it, on top of a juice box.

“Oh.” He says shakily, a nervous giggle following. “Whoops.”

You turn your face to his side profile, and he pointedly looks ahead. His neck is bared to you, unblemished and devoid of accessories. A solid mark left on him would paint a good picture, an outline of your teeth. It might be the first mark he has ever gotten.

You think of Yaga-sensei, and his strict protocol for punishment when a fight breaks out. Especially when it disturbs others, because you’re definitely sure his screams will bleed to the top floors. You’ll make sure it does. Shoko will give you a celebratory hug for finally giving it to him, but will be disappointed that you would have to miss your lunch together. Utahime from all the way in Kyoto will mail you a gift and you’re pretty sure even Mei Mei would send you some cash.

As if sensing your malevolence, he quickly backs away. “H-Hold on! Look—“ he digs in his pocket hastily and pulls out a note. With sweaty hands he inserts it into the machine, and takes your hand palm up and places another kitkat in your hold.

You stare at it, and then at his pockets. “Give me another.”

You end up walking back to your dorm with handfuls of chocolate and a broke Satoru holding more just for you.

#I love kitkat they’re my favorite #this was supposed to be angst LMFAO #☆.satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

Text

there was no place in nature we could meet ; suguru geto

synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex. especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart — who also just so happens to be a wanted mass murderer.

word count; 3.3k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)

the moon is out.

in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.

a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.

”hey.”

for a second, you think you must be dreaming.

the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.

geto looks something like a bad omen.

sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.

still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.

the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.

what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.

(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)

what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.

so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.

geto watches, eerily silent.

(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)

finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.

mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.

his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night, even deeper than it was back in high school.

slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes.

”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” comes an exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…”

a beat. you struggle to find the right word.

”annoying.”

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.

”well, thank you.” he hums; crossing his legs.

the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling that eerie smile.

when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.

”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. ”you miss him that much?”

”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.

your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go.

”whatever you say, geto.”

at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips.

”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, casually, hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.

a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me what you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”

geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”

”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.”

the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face.

”guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”

a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that.” his smile grows with the drawl. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”

to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.

(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)

geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence between you — a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”

”— i was hoping you’d come back.”

a beat.

somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by darkness, melting into that sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.

”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”

…

”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”… about your decision.”

”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”

with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement. geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards before he sends a curse to eat it from the asphalt.

you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.

a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs back in high school — after you had spent about ten solid minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted.

”what can i say?” you lean back, palms against rough concrete, breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”

geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”

with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.”

a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”

geto doesn’t say anything. you continue, voice dripping with venom.

”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking, a sardonic coo on your tongue. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”

…

his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.

so you look away.

a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”

he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.

”you’re better than them,” he states, matter-of-factly, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.

”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”

a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?

”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”

an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.

it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.

”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”

geto stills.

”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”

you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”

and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.

his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.

when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.

”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”

then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”

an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all.

something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.

(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)

”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”

…

”join me.”

the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.

”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.

a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”

”that’s not what i meant.”

he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters.

you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.

”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”

unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.

”with me.”

there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”

a moment passes.

(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)

”.. like you give a damn.”

geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes.

”my love.”

you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.

it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.

but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.

(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)

if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.

yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.

”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”

and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.

geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.

”this world doesn't deserve you.”

silence.

a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.

”and you think you do?”

another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”

his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.

”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”

a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —

a chill runs down your spine.

when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”

what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.

geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.

(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)

a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut.

you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.

”i don't love you.”

…

for just a second, his smile falters.

”no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”

a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.

geto closes his eyes.

”you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.”

he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”

dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.

”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.

then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.

”come. let me show you the world we can create.”

he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing at you. the promise of something twisted, new, forbidden. you think of red skin and yellow flesh; the bite of sin.

and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. a world where sweetened fruit never give way to rot.

paradise.

geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground.

(you think of the serpent. you think of god.

only one of them banished eve.)

”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”

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carlyraejepsans · 6 months

Text

Technically speaking, he was a light sleeper.

Which was just hilarious for two different reasons. One, he topped at twenty pounds soaking wet—and that was after he'd reached for the towel. The joke basically wrote itself. The other reason was, of course, that nobody believed him. Honestly, he could kinda get it. It's pretty hard for irony to escape him, even on a bad day. The way he saw it, though, maybe he wouldn't take as many naps as he did, if he just managed to get one to stick.

...heh, nah. Probably not. Late to rise, early to bed, makes a man lazy or clinically dead, or however the saying went. Still.

The kid stiffened against his ribcage and that was all it took for his eyes to fly open.

The popcorn ceiling of the living room stared back at him through the darkness in all its tacky glory. Now that's another joke that writes itself. It wasn't a movie night at Tori's without some comment about her taste in decor. That always earned him a round of groans. Or a halfhearted pillow to the head. It was one of his favorite moodsetters.

His hand dangled in the air at his side. Not on the floor. Just a few months earlier, that alone would've told him he wasn't in his room, but oh boy, had things changed. He had a bedframe now, not to mention enough self respect for one. AND fitted sheets—that was a lifetime first. You had to be careful not to fall off, but all things considered, it was the fanciest bed he'd slept on since he'd tried using his worker bonus at MTT's. If he risked falling off the bed now, he'd risked never finding his way out then. Not to mention the guy in the other room calling for room service the entire night. He almost retired the midnight snacks bit on Undyne out of sympathy the next time she came over.

Almost.

The kid's head twitched.

Right. Popcorn. Living room. Springy mattress. He didn't need to smoke a pipe to realize he'd fallen asleep on the sofa. Didn't need a goofy hat either to see that someone must've thought he'd make a good pillow. Go figure. He'd gotten real good at making himself look softer under his clothes, but still, it wasn't exactly the kind of magic a guy could keep up with his eyes closed and a pillow behind his head. He just hoped they weren't too uncomfortable.

He must've dozed off sometime after Papyrus left the house and Toriel turned in for the night, 'cause nobody had stopped by to throw a blanket over him. Most nights that would've been fine. Nice thought aside, skeletons didn't really feel cold "to their bones", on account of lacking all the soft and fleshy stuff on top of 'em.

Yeah, well. Most nights. Most nights he didn't have a human kid sleeping on top of him, either.

Sans looked down. He resisted the urge to blow a strand of hair out of their face.

Most nights, skeletons didn't have hearts beating against their ribs.

Ba-dum—ba-dum—ba-dum.

He would've asked them if it felt any different, having it beat on the other side of their ribcage, if they hadn't already crawled their way inside his months before.

Heh. Not like they hadn't done the same with everyone else. Or ever asked for permission, the little freeloader. But he supposed that part came free with being monsters. The whole HOPE and compassion and everything nice kinda shtick. As a rule, they were, uh, very prone to attachment. It was hardwired into their SOULs or something. Of course, he knew better than anyone that compassion had its cost, and he'd ran low on HOPE for a long, long while, but...

There was a ray of light coming through the kitchen at night like he hadn't seen in an even longer time. The kind with a moon and stars hung at the other end of it.

Yeah. Maybe he could afford something nice for once.

Frisk stirred again. He kept as still as possible as they wriggled around, pushing themself off of him—trying, he assumed, not to shove their boney little knees somewhere unpleasant.

Then they flopped to their side and fell to the floor with a thud.

See, THAT'S the kinda issue you don't have when you have no self respect.

Slowly, the kid got to their feet again. They stood perfectly straight for a moment, then took an unsteady step forward. Then another.

To call it "walking" would've been an act of mercy. It was more of an ambling. Maybe a shambling. Sans watched their journey towards the kitchen mentally listing of adverbs. Stumbling. Fumbling. Trailing. That one didn't have a mbl in it, points for originality.

Mostly, he was ecstatic. Nothing made for fun breakfast stories quite like sleepwalking. And well, he hadn't had one of those since Papyrus turned fifteen and stopped sleeping entirely.

When the kid finally reached the fridge, they all but shoved their head inside it. He heard them do... something in there. There were definitely teeth involved. He was about to ask them to bring some goods back to homebase.

The door of the fridge clicked closed.

He didn't.

Then, he almost made a joke about forgetting their headlights on, but thought otherwise. He was glad he'd left his own off.

Besides, it was the taillights that were supposed to glow red.

Eyesockets dark and still pretending to sleep, he kept watch as the kid turned around and retraced their shambling steps to the living room like a miniature zombie.

Halfway to the sofa, they stopped, making a small sound like a grumbling of annoyance. For a second their eyes grew even more unfocused.

"Sleep," they rasped out in a low, halting whisper, "I saved you a crick in the neck."

It took him a second to register that the kid wasn't talking to him. Mostly 'cause Frisk didn't speak. To him. Or ever.

By the time they reached their starting point again, his excitement had died off into quiet confusion and quickly curdled into caution. They stopped at the edge of the sofa and fixed him with a stare, looking at where they'd been sleeping before. Sans waited.

"I am not doing that," they rasped to themself again.

Then they climbed onto the other end of the sofa and curled around themself as small as possible. So tightly it looked like they wanted to tuck their tiny body into a ball.

When they stopped moving, they didn't move again.

Sans didn't lift a finger. His brain whirred in his skull, ready to chalk up the past few minutes to the sleepwalking and forget they ever happened. Staring up at the popcorn ceiling again, though, he couldn't shake off a wave of uneasiness; like he'd seen something he wasn't quite supposed to put together.

Any man would've spent the night awake.

He cast a glance at the kid, huddled in their corner. There was no heartbeat against his ribs now: something about the silence felt foreboding.

Sans closed his eyes.

Ten minutes later, of course, he was out like a light.

#i wanted to write more but it's! 5am. and I can't. lol. quality is about what you'd expect from an allnighter but i am excited about this #so i couldn't wait to post it #I'll check for readability in the morning ok MWAH. so hyped for where i want to take this #undertale #sans #mywriting #frisk #chara

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slushycoookie · 3 months

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Late Night Trip ~ Miguel O'Hara x GN! Reader

A/N: A drawing from @scwibbs inspired me to write about going to the store late at night with Miguel. All because he wanted some more ice cream. I hope you all enjoy it!

“Amor? Do we have any more ice cream?”

You paused the movie, the frame stopping right before the part where a woman gets stabbed to death. You removed yourself from the couch and walked into the kitchen, where Miguel dug in the freezer. Only in his boxers.

“Yeah, I saw some yesterday.”

He huffed as he continued to search, “Well, I don't see it.” You pushed him aside, knowing he had tunnel vision when it came to looking for something in the house. Lucky for him, you remembered the exact place you saw it last night: sandwiched between frozen broccoli and the ice maker. But the pint of strawberry cheesecake wasn't there.

“Hold on, it was right there. What happened to it?”

Miguel didn’t look at you, “If you're talking about the strawberry cheesecake, I ate that one yesterday.”

“What?” Your head flickered, annoyed, “How did you eat that one already? We just bought that one.”

He rubbed the nape of his neck, “Late night hours at HQ.” Your fingers rubbed circles on the sides of your forehead. Miguel was the king of late-night snacking, especially if he was working late.

“Well, no ice cream for us then.” You accepted defeat, going back to your comfortable place on the couch to get ready to finish the horror movie.

Miguel had other plans. “I’ll go out and get some more.”

As he disappeared into your room, you perked your head up, about to protest. It was past midnight when you checked your phone. “It’s late.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Oh I know you will.” You stood, going into your room to grab a jacket, dressed in your t-shirt and pajama pants. “That’s why I’m coming with. I want some more snacks.” As you slipped your multi-colored covered feet into some slides, Miguel was ready to go. He resorted to simple sweatpants and a shirt, wearing matching black slides. Oh and he couldn’t forget his shades.

“You’re not going overboard.”

You raised a brow at him, “This is coming from the person who’s about to go out to get ice cream. At night.”

“Because I want some.” He stated, taking your hand and leaving the house.

There was a convenience store a block away. It was open until 3 a.m., enough time for you two to grab some goodies and go. Cool air brushed along your jacket as you walked beside Miguel. The atmosphere was quiet, crickets singing in your ears and the moon shining down on both of you. Hardly anyone was out at the moment. You didn’t see many cars in the store's parking lot when you went inside.

Miguel’s hand didn’t leave yours as he dragged you to the freezer aisle. Your eyes blinked multiple times to get used to the strong fluorescent lighting. The cashier’s hello drowned in the background from the vibrating hum of the freezers. He had to get his favorites, the strawberry cheesecake, banana bonanza, and tres leche. Your eyes caught triple chocolate fudge and dream boat, so he grabbed those too. Both of you noticed champagne, a flavor neither of you tried yet. Soon, his arms were covered in pints of ice cream.

“We should’ve gotten a basket.”

After a basket was acquired, you made a beeline for the chips. Throwing a bunch of bags of flaming hot ones inside, your favorite.

“You know, I heard they can mess up your stomach lining if you eat them too much.” You glared at your spouse, putting a bag back. Ignoring his smug look, you caught a little shelf of ramen on the other side. It wasn’t much to browse through, but there was no need. You saw that signature black packaging, grabbing the remaining two.

Miguel tsked when he saw the ramen packages you were holding, “I can't eat those. They're too spicy.”

“See, that's the white in you saying that because these aren't that hot.” You quipped back while he rolled his eyes. He took the packaging from your hands and tossed it in the basket. Being the nice partner that you were, you also grabbed the less spicy ones, the packaging sporting a green color.

Moving on to candy, you snagged a few bags of gummy bears. Stashing some chocolate bars too. Miguel picked up some hard candy, liking to suck on a few throughout his day.

“Are we done?” He asked, motioning to how much stuff was in the basket. It was almost overflowing if you put one more thing in it.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

As you two made your way up to the cashier, who wasn’t paying attention to you and was watching videos on his phone, you stopped at the beverage aisle. You smacked your lips, feigning thirst, before grabbing two bottles of a mystery-flavored cola.

The cashier's eyes went wide at the number of items you had, but he had no issues ringing you two up. You didn’t make eye contact with your husband as the beeping lingered in your ears, but you felt his eyes.

Still, he took your hand, carrying the bags as you traveled home. While walking, you opened one of the sodas and took a swig to taste the mystery flavor. Hints of cotton candy lingered on your tongue with a mix of cherry? Or was that blueberry? You needed to ask an expert.

“Here, taste this.” You placed the bottle to his lips so he could take a sip.

Miguel felt the flavor, tasting like he had a sip of wine. His eyes lowered in mild thought, his lips pursed. “It’s blueberry-flavored cotton candy.”

“I knew it.”

Once you all got back inside, you threw your slippers off, grabbed your bag of hot chips, and jumped on the couch. After putting the snacks away, Miguel sat beside you, holding the tres leche ice cream and two spoons. Both of you got comfortable and resumed the movie, treating the outing as a success.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #slushycoookie writes

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tomonana · 1 year

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Texting the obey me characters “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” This phrase is a more poetic way of saying I love you.”

Lucifer

-Doesn’t get it at first.

-“Is It? I suppose I’ll have to take a look.”

-“Ah.”

-“Yes, it is. I love you as well.”

-Overall Very sweet

Mammon

-Deadass thinks you’re talking about the moon

-“It’s covered by clouds, what’re ya talkin’ about?”

-“You’re weird, Mc. G’night. Love ya.”

-I mean, at least he loves you!

Levi

-He saw this in an anime once!

-“Omg hahahaha do you love me.”

-He loves you too, he’s just too nervous to say it back.

Satan

-Of course he knows what it means.

-“I can die happy tonight.”

-He appreciates the poetic message.

Asmo

-“Yes, but not as beautiful as me!”

-He says it jokingly.

-“I would much rather look at you than the moon.”

-He loves you!

Beel

-“It looks like a big wheel of cheese.”

-Beel is a simple man, who enjoys simple things.

-“I’m hungry. Want to eat a midnight snack with me?”

Belphie

-“Come look at it with me in the planetarium.”

-He wants to spend all his time with you, just looking at the stars.

-“It’s really pretty. I’m glad I get to share it with you.”

Solomon

-“Yes, it is. But I much rather prefer the stars.”

-Like Satan, He understands the meaning.

-“It’s fascinating that the three realms share the same moon. No matter where we are, we are all connected by it.”

Simeon

-“I agree. It is the same moon I’ve looked at all my life in the celestial realm. Isn’t that interesting?”

-Poetic mf

-“But since meeting you, it all seems new again. My perspective has changed, for the better. Would you like to look at it together?”

Barbatos

-“Yes. I believe the Devildom has the best view of the moon, because the light is so prominent in the eternal darkness.”

-“I’ve seen countless timelines, countless moons and stars. But the moon we share the same view of is special, because it is the moon you see.”

Diavolo

-“I’ve always been fond of the moon. When I was young, I used to sneak out onto the balcony to gaze it at. I would stay out there for hours until Barbatos carried me back to bed.”

-“I’m grown now, but my fondness for it is the same. Come look at it with me. I want to share memories with you.”

#obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon

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imgoingtofreakoutnow · 8 months

Text

Sketch me down, see me through – pt. 2

Summary: A couple of days after the sketch, things got a bit more complicated than what you expected

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: mentions of blood/sex/abuse, bit of violence, Astarion is a bit of a bitch but what's new, physical touch as a love language, first kiss, fluff

A/N: Enjoy the second part of this Astarion fic, here you can find Part 1 <3 (i wanted to post this tomorrow but i don't know how to queue posts correctly so @tripleyeeet @yn-ymn-yln enjoy!)

\_/

The cold light of the moon woke you up. It had slithered into your tent, bathing your pillow —and thus your face— with its silvery shine. You turned around, trying to fall back into your warm slumber, but with no luck.

Your head started roaming, thinking too much about everything. About the last few days and the subtle changes in Astarion’s behavior, his lingering gazes and the tension that stiffened his body every time you happened to tug him playfully or accidentally bump into him.

It was confusing, to say the least; making you rethink everything and pondering twice on every word you said before even uttering it.

With an irritated sigh, you pulled yourself up, sitting on your blankets as you stretched your neck and sore muscles. With another groan, you put on your boots and then walked outside.

The fire had burnt out, leaving behind just a few glowing embers that were bound to soon become cold, lifeless ash. The air stung the bare skin of your arms, colder than what you expected. You soon got used to it, thankful to that chillness for waking you up. Apart from a couple of owls shrieking in the distance and the snoring coming from some of the tents surrounding you, the camp was calm, a small Eden…

A rustling of leaves broke the silence, followed by some muffled swearing. Before you could reach for the dagger in your boot, a figure stumbled out of the woods, barely keeping themselves up. After a couple of unbalanced steps, the silhouette managed to stop, taking a deep breath as he straightened up, passing his hands through his silver hair.

“Astarion?”

“Oh.”

The moment he noticed it was you in the shadows, Astarion quickly passed his hands on his shirt, brushing away the leaves and branches that had stuck on the fabric. Then his signature smile was back on his lips, his grin as smug as ever as he leaned against a nearby tree.

“Hello, darling.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I was performing my duty and keeping watch.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he scanned you, his eyes moving slowly up and down your body. “What about you, sweetheart?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged, trying to ignore his piercing gaze. “Too many thoughts.”

“Ah, yes.” He nodded, his focus shifting to his fingers. “I am familiar with the notion.”

You watched closely as he picked his nails. What you first mistook for a nervous fidgeting revealed to be something different, a thorough cleaning that also had to do with the red streaks on his shirt —barely visible in the darkness— and those same scarlet hues that painted his fingers and the corners of his mouth.

You narrowed your eyes, putting both of your hands on your hips; in the same way your mother used to when she found out you had done something that was against her rules.

“Why were you lurking in the forest?”

He chuckled, showing the tip of his canines and his teeth, still blood stained. “Lurking… such an evil word. I’m almost flattered.”

Astarion looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to indulge him in his jokes the same way you often did since you had become… friends? Close acquaintances? Occasional lovers? The label on your relationship —if you could even call it that— seemed to change with every new dawn.

Whatever you two could be considered, you stared unimpressed at him with your hands glued to your hips.

“I was just having a midnight snack,” he explained with a shrug, his head tilting backwards against the tree but without ever leaving your eyes. “You can stop torturing that pretty brain of yours now.”

“I thought we had an agreement.” You took a step forward as you frowned in confusion. “I feed you so you can stay strong and defend us.”

Defend me.

“That was the deal,” you continued, ignoring those few words stuck in your throat.

“Indeed it was.”

Astarion was still looking at you, staring into your eyes as he always did —with a grin plastered to his face— but there was something different in them this time. A dark glimmer you had only seen when he was on the battlefield. The look he reserved only to his enemies.

Your entire body crumbled in confusion, your face losing its frown, your arms falling on your sides in defeat. “Then why didn’t you ask?”

You hated how your voice almost cracked at the end of that sentence. How small you felt, how desperate as you begged for an explanation, and all of this, because of that softness near the fire.

After that night and the sudden indifference that followed, you had wondered many times if you had misunderstood that look in his eyes. If that tenderness you felt in his touch had never been there in the first place but created by your delusional mind, always craving for something more. Something real.

Or worse, if he had faked it so well that you had fallen for it.

Astarion’s gaze softened ever so slightly as he moved from the tree and stepped in front of you. You cursed mentally when your breath caught in your throat.

“You were sleeping too peacefully for me to disturb you,” he murmured, taking your chin in his fingers. His nails grazed your skin but you bit down a yelp of discomfort.

“But I’m glad to see that you’re as eager to help as always.” With a flick of his wrist, Astarion hit the bottom of your chin. “That’s what I like about you.”

It didn’t hurt, you had endured much worse treatments in your lifetime, but you knew it was not meant to. Not physically at least. You felt the strike tear into your belittled pride, his condescending tone ripping through it like teeth in the flesh.

“You didn’t want to disturb my sleep,” you repeated, your voice almost trembling in anger.

He took a step back, his arms open as he shrugged with a smirk until his back met the bark of the tree once again. “That is what I said, darling.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Like that’s stopped you before.”

As you waited for a sassy retort that didn’t come, Astarion remained silent as he crossed his arms. His eyes wandered away from yours to the deeper and darkest parts of the forest where the light of the moon couldn’t get past the thick canopy. You couldn’t tell if his elven ears had sensed something you were physically incapable to, or if he was just ignoring you like he did the past few days.

Before you could stop it, your tadpole squirmed behind your eye, reaching for Astarion. Searching for answers he wasn’t willing to give you with his own mouth. You managed to get only a glimpse of that darkness behind his eyes —an anger that he was barely able to contain— before your conscience smacked against a wall.

At the same time, Astarion’s head snapped towards you. “Did you really try to slither into my mind?”

An irritated surprise dripped from his voice, but you caught the flash of betrayal that crossed his face.

“I’m sorry.”

You pressed your palms to your eyeballs, trying to get rid of the prickly sensation of blooming tears. You took that moment in the black void to put your thoughts back into place; to calm your racing heart and give some sense to the storm raging in your head. “I just want to understand what’s going on, if I did something-”

“Why do you even care if I feed on you or not?”

Another wave of confusion washed over you as your hands fell to your sides. “What?”

“It sure must be draining for you,” —with a smooth movement, he pushed himself away from the tree— “letting me drink your blood every other day. Yet you always come through.” He smiled, his teeth poking through his grin almost menacingly. “So zealous and happy to please.”

He started circling you, like a murder of crows over a carcass. A sense of unease started creeping up on you, sending shivers down your spine as you followed closely his movements. You didn’t think he wanted to kill you, but if he put his mind to it, he probably could.

“But the question remains…” He took a step towards you, close enough for you to smell the blood stuck on his clothes. You moved backwards, immediately hitting a tree in your way. Astarion stood in front of you, his eyes almost piercing your soul. “Why do you do it?”

“You said it yourself,” you said calmly even though the blood in your veins had never pumped so quickly, “you’re stronger when you drink-”

He chuckled, clapping once his hands together. “I fear my point is not really coming across, so I’ll rephrase my question. What do you gain from that?”

“I… I don’t think I-”

Your words were cut when Astarion’s hand wrapped around your neck. He leaned closer, his breath tickling your skin and waking up a desire that was entirely uncalled for while you stared into the eyes of a predator.

“Sex, darling.” His whisper ran down your spine, shaking you to your core. “That’s what you gain from it.”

Memories flowed in your brain and you couldn’t tell if it was you who brought them up or Astarion. The digging of teeth in your throat and the metallic scent of your own blood stuffing the air around hit you harder than a sledgehammer. You were back on the ground, pinned down between him and the dirt. His hands held you down as he drank, roaming over your clothes, unclasping buckles and grasping handful of flesh.

There was the aching between your legs and the release that followed when his undivided attention moved from your neck to the rest of your body. And above all else, the pleasure of being wanted.

“That was not in the deal.” You shook your head as much as you could while your neck was still in his grip. “It’s something between us and you also gain from it.”

“I gain nothing from it.”

His grip tightened around around your throat as he hissed in your face, his nails digging a little too deep into your skin. Your tadpole squirmed, anticipating a wave of disgust and shame that shook every nerve and cell in your brain. You squeezed your eyes, almost overwhelmed by the revulsion pouring into you.

“You started it.”

You still remembered the first time it happened, a week or two into your agreement. Slightly light-headed from the blood loss, when Astarion moved away from your neck it took you a second to realize that he hadn’t left. He was still there, looking down on you with blood still dripping from his mouth.

“I could ease your pain, if you want. Just this one time.” His hand accompanied his words, slowly gliding down your chest and along your thighs. “But you have to ask first.”

Then it happened again. And again. And again. And then there was not one time when he fed on you that he didn’t eat twice.

You swallowed the memory, your throat barely moving in his grip. “If you didn’t want it then why-”

“Manipulation, sweetheart!” Astarion widened his arms, posing dramatically and thankfully freeing your neck. “I saw an opportunity to bring you to my side and I took it. It was instinctive, really,” he continued with a shrug as you massaged your sore neck, “almost too easy creating a connection between pain and pleasure so you’d feed me willingly.”

A crease appeared between his eyebrows while his face crumpled in a pained expression. “It didn’t matter what it took to achieve it as long as it served me and my safety.”

Despite the fear still screaming inside, despite every survival instinct left in you, you stretched out your hand to him. Your fingertips brushed his bare forearm for a mere moment before he pulled away, his face distorted by an angry smile.

“But you have outplayed me.” He clapped slowly, loud enough for an animal nearby to scatter away in fear. “Bravo to you.”

You shook your head, even more lost than before. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you truly think me so foolish?”

His scream left his mouth like a curse, raw and jagged at the edges as his hand clenched his shirt right above his heart. The smug facade had crumbled, leaving behind a boiling anger that contorted his face. You heard more scattering in the forest: a rustling of leaves, flutters of wings, terrified chirps and squeaks as all the creatures in the surrounding area ran away.

Not you though. Immobile as the tree you were pressed against, you stood where you were, looking Astarion straight into his eyes as he pointed his finger to your face.

“You hide behind words of selflessness but you’re playing with me just as all the others before you. Always wanting,” he hissed, despair slowly filling his eyes as he lowered his hand and raised his chin, “always pushing for more.”

You clenched your jaw as the lump in your throat grew with every new arrow that Astarion aimed at your heart. “You’re painting me as someone I’m not.”

He scoffed again, as if your words were the mere whining of a spoiled kid. Taking another step closer to you, you could almost feel his anger blurring the air around him, its heat tingling on your skin.

“Then what was that? That desire next to the fire?” He tilted his head as his index moved up along your neck. “For a moment there, when I looked at the portrait you made, I thought you actually cared,” —his lips trembled with ache— “that I wasn’t just the pleasure I pushed you to want… but then I touched you and I saw it.” Astarion grabbed your chin tightly, making you impossible to look away. “That craving in your eyes.”

He leaned even closer, until your faces were barely apart.

“What did you want so badly?”

Finally all the pieces of the puzzle that you’d been gathering in the last few days finally snapped together. The blur in your head cleared and everything —or at least, most of it— started making sense once again. Sighing shakily your relief, your fingers slowly reached for the steel hand clawing to your chin

“I just wanted that,” you whispered as your fingertips brushed the pale skin of his hand. “That soft, kind touch.”

His muscles tensed under your touch, but this time Astarion didn’t jolt away. Inhaling sharply, he let you encase his fingers in yours, gradually loosening his grip around your face.

“The interest that you showed in me, the pleasure you gave me,” you shook your head, your gaze lowered on your joined hands. “It was flattering and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, but I always knew it wasn’t entirely genuine. However, that closeness,” —your thumb moved almost instinctively as it caressed the back of his hand— “that softness you showed me…”

Your gaze snapped back up to him as you tried to breathe in as much air as you could. “I just wanted more of that intimacy.”

Astarion remained silent for a while, looking into your eyes as if —by not breaking eye contact with you— he would be able to catch a crack in your act.

When your tadpole squirmed, sensing Astarion’s doubt as he searched for more reassurance than just your words, you didn’t oppose any resistance. You pushed down the tiny ache of knowing that he still didn’t trust you completely and let your truest emotions come to the surface.

The moment the realization hit him, the anger on his face disappeared into thin air like smoke after a fire; all that was left behind was a broken relief. Astarion took a few steps back, letting go of your hand as he turned his back to you. He threw his head back and took a deep breath in, his hands planted on his slender waist.

As you followed him from a distance, you noticed a movement coming from one of the tents. Wyll was looking at you, his eyebrows creasing in worry as they keep darting from your face to Astarion, who was now pacing back and forth on the grass.

You wondered how long he had been standing there. How much he had seen. The mere thought made you feel extremely exposed, as though your clothes had suddenly became invisible to the naked eye. You silently reassured Wyll, your tadpole squirming even more behind your eyes while connecting to the warlock’s. You waved quickly at him, responding to his small smile, before he disappeared back into his tent.

You exhaled slowly, moving your gaze back to Astarion. He was still giving you his back, however he stood still under the moonlight, his hair almost reflecting the silvery rays. He looked like the moon itself: so beautiful, and yet so unreadable.

A sudden thought crossed your mind, the question that had been bugging you since the start of that entire ordeal, and to which you hadn’t got an answer yet. You took a deep as you got ready to utter those words, terrified of what the answer was going to be. Scared that the response would break your heart.

“Was it real, that kindness?”

Your voice trembled, barely able to contain the worry that threatened to spill from your eyes. “Or was it just another ruse of yours?”

Astarion turned around. His face was scarred by hurting despite the smile that was pulling his face.

“Of course it was real.” He held out his hands, almost trying to grasp the words he needed, before his arms fell back to his sides. “Otherwise, it would’ve made keeping you away much less painful to bear.”

You had never seen him look so helpless, so defenseless as he stared at you. Your heart broke at seeing him like, but there was still joy gushing through the cracks as you moved towards him. Taking those last few steps that kept you apart, you stopped only when your bodies were just a breath away.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Moving carefully, you pushed your fingers forth until they gently brushed his hand. Once more, he tensed under your touch but didn’t move away.

“I’m not like you, darling.” His smug smile made a brief appearance before it split into an aching wince. “I don’t open up easily.”

“Really?” You couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, which gained you a raised eyebrow from him. “It took me over a month to bring myself to sketch in front of anyone else. Honestly, I might be more mysterious than you are.”

Astarion scoffed playfully. “Darling, I am a riddle in vampire form: forever unknowable.” As you softly chuckled, his fingers moved and hooked onto yours. “However, I must admit that your secrecy is… very intriguing.”

“There’s nothing that interesting about my life,” you admitted softly, lowering your gaze. “It’s been a pretty boring existence before meeting you and the others.”

A second later, two fingers moved your chin up until your eyes were back into Astarion’s. Your breath stopped for a second when they moved along your jaw before gently cupping your cheek.

“There is —and never will be— nothing boring about you, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your cheek as you stood still, too scared that he would take it back to move even the smallest muscle. “And even if there was, I’d be happy to hear all the tedious details. And perhaps contribute with some exciting tales if things do get too boring.”

You shook your head with a chuckle, gently tugging his hand. “I expected nothing less from you.”

He grinned, his hand moving down your neck and then brushing along your arm. “Am I already becoming so predictable?”

Before you could answer, Astarion wrapped his fingers around your wrist and brought your hand to his face. He placed your palm on his cheek and leaned into it. You immediately felt the tension in his clenched jaw, the sharp breath he took in and the way his fingers tightened around your hand.

“You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to,” you whispered softly.

“Trust me, I do.” He closed his eyes as he leaned more into your touch. “I want to feel your fingers trace my features and remind me of their existence. I’m just…” —he inhaled and exhaled shakily, before a small grin appeared on his face, “adjusting to it, you know?”

You nodded with a smile. You understood completely as your palm adapted to the edges of Astarion’s face, to his heat —slightly lower than yours— and to the way your cheeks were also flushing as you watched Astarion slowly relax into your touch.

Freeing your other hand from his grip, you cupped his face and gently pulled him with you as you sat on the grass beneath. The ground was moist, the due dotting the stems slightly dampening your pants, but that was the last thing that could bother you in that moment.

When Astarion sat in front of you, you leaned forward, kneeling as you pointed at his crossed legs with a nod. “Can I sit there?”

A mischievous glint shone in his eyes, something you should’ve expected, but you shook your head, your serious frown never leaving your face. “And feel free to tell me to go fuck myself if you don’t want to, because I will.”

His hands had moved to your hips before you were finished, pulling you in his lap as his smirk grew even wider. “Oh, I’m sure you gladly would, wouldn’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head and biting your lower lip as your cheeks started burning up. “Shut up.”

Then your thumbs moved, circling on his cheekbones. Astarion closed his eyes for a moment, his eyelids shuddering at every brush of your fingertips. His fingers dug slightly into your hips when the warmth of your hands left his cheeks to the chill air of the night; when your fingers started wandering on the rest of his face. You traced his eyebrows and then moved your fingertips along his nose and back up, always under Astarion’s scarlet gaze. When you passed them on his forehead, the tension in his face disappeared under your touch. It was almost like a spell, some secret magic that your hands had always possessed but kept hidden from everyone, even from you.

While your fingers moved almost on their own along those features you knew like the back of your hand, you studied those smaller details that you couldn’t make out from a distance. The wrinkles and circles around his eyes, the small imperfections in his otherwise flawless skin.

“See anything you like?”

You smiled, mirroring his grin, as your indexes followed his smile lines until they brushed the corner of his lips. “What’s there not to like.”

“Good answer.” His smirk grew wider as his hand cupped your face. “Please, don’t hold any compliment back.”

Your thumb brushed over his lips, pulling down ever so slightly his bottom lip. “The same goes for you, fangs.”

Astarion cocked his eyebrow. “Fangs, really?”

“It’s cute, don’t you think?” You passed a hand through his hair, noticing the way his lips slightly fell open when you did. “Just like you.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “I would never use that word to describe me, darling. Not in a thousand years.”

His hands left your hips and moved to your face, caressing your cheeks before gliding to the back of your head. Your breath hung in your throat as he stroked your hair; as he pulled your face closer to his until your foreheads touched.

“But I have to admit, it sounds quite nice when you pronounce it.” His whisper hit your skin, warm and intoxicating, setting your face —your entire body— aflame. His fingers traced your mouth, a feather touch that you were not expecting.

“Perhaps,” he breathed again, even closer than before, “your lips could transform any monster in a docile and submissive creature.”

“Is that a request?”

“More a suggestion. For another time, perhaps. ” His fingers moved along your jaws, dreadfully slow. “But I wouldn’t mind a taste.”

His other hand, still wrapped on the back of your hand, pulled you in but your lips didn’t meet. Your fingers, that you had moved on his mouth, were keeping him away. When he moved back, eyes narrowed in confusion, Astarion was met with a mischievous grin.

“You should ask more nicely, fangs.”

His confusion was soon replaced by a pleased glimmer in his eyes. He snorted before cupping your cheek with his hand, his half-lidded gaze on you.

“May I taste your lips, darling?”

The low growl in his voice sent shivers down your spine, stirring your insides like a boiling stew, but you weren’t done. Not yet. You leaned in, stopping inches away from his face as your thumbs kept stroking his cheeks.

“I said nicely, fangs.”

Under your eyes, Astarion swallowed, his tongue darting in between his teeth and licking quickly his lips before he grinned.

“Please?”

“Very good.”

Your whisper brushed against his mouth a second before yours pressed softly on it, in a kiss so different from the rawness you were used to with him. So sweet and calm, even when he kissed you back, slowly opening and closing his lips on yours. He was in no rush as his hands stroked your hair, as they tentatively moved on your shoulders and along your bare arms —sending shivers alone your spine as he did so— until they covered yours. His fingers were almost trembling as they intertwined with yours.

You gently pulled back, gasping for air as you looked him in the eyes. They were still studying you, scarlet pools reading into the darkest depths of your soul and seeing things that they couldn’t understand yet. You weren’t used to that emotional closeness, to someone else being able to see you and wanting to know more.

It was terrifying, no denying that; but also kind of exhilarating.

Astarion smiled, almost as if he had just read your mind —and maybe, he really had. Nudging his nose against your cheek, he squeezed your hands in his.

“I believe you will truly ruin me, my dear.”

“For good or for worse?”

He kissed your lips again, a quick kiss but somehow deeper than before that left your head spinning even when he pulled back and shrugged. “That’s still to be determined.”

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dnd #astarion ancunin #astarion fic

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hezzabeth · 5 months

Text

By the year 3856 animals are a myth. Insects however are incredibly common. Due to the colonization of the solar system there are also many mutant off breeds. The Phoeben Scorpion is native to the terraformed moon known as Phoebe. Over the centuries it has invaded our moons and satellites. The Phoeben Scorpion has a colorful candy like appearance.They are considered to be a delicious and popular snack food.

"Don't you want to watch the next log and find out how it ends?" Brigadeiro asked.

"It probably ends the way all fairytales do, with the Duke taking one look at Dityaa and falling madly in love! Just like everyone else," Revati said, pressing the side of her bangle, causing it to turn off.

"Not everyone falls in love with your sister at first sight, I didn't," Brigadeiro said, shooting Revati a sly, knowing look.

It was the same knowing look that he had given her on a bridge at sunrise, in a tent during winter, and once under fireworks. A warm, dark-eyed look that would have made a weaker person tremble at the knees.

"That's because you imprinted on me the second I saved your life, like Phoeben scorpions," Revati shot back.

"Phoeben scorpions?" Brigadeiro had to ask.

"You know, the scorpions on the Phoebe satellite, the ones that imprint on their mates and then end up starving to death," Revati said.

"Are those the fried ones they sell in coffee shops with the cupcakes?" Brigadeiro asked with a small grimace.

"Yep, the more sick with love they are, the sweeter they taste," Revati said, shutting her eyes and savoring the taste of the scorpions.

Brigadeiro held up his hand for a moment and quickly licked it.

"Well, look at that, I taste just like sugar," Brigadeiro winked, and Revati rolled her eyes.

"You really are ridiculous," she replied, and he took her hand, holding it up to his lips.

"And I bet you taste like dark chocolate... not quite as sweet as me," he said before his lips grazed her knuckles. Revati felt herself glance upwards into those familiar eyes, and Revati blushed.

……

Nine minutes past midnight. Brigadeiro's room was filled with pale blue moonlight. Revati was twenty-one years old.

She had, of course, fooled around on the road before. A few times in her tent, sometimes in the middle of a forest. On one memorable occasion, one thousand feet above Mars' surface with the aid of hover boots.

Never in a bed, however. Never with a person who actually fell asleep next to her afterwards. Brigadeiro was a decent sleep companion; he didn't snore and he stayed on his side of the bed. Revati had to admit his back curved down in a way that she rather liked. Still, it was nine past midnight. Revati got off the bed and walked towards the window. The garden's shadows reminded her of her father's inky blue hair. The tables and chairs outside had long ago been abandoned. Someone was darting across the lawn, trying their best to stay in the darkest shadows. The person was heading towards the kitchen house. In Revati's experience, people with nothing to hide didn't even notice shadows. Revati tiptoed to her backpack and grabbed her trusty pants. Sliding into them, she felt the way she always did, like a warrior heading out to meet her destiny.

Everything was quiet and still. The front door of the kitchen house was flung wide open, something that would never happen in Olde Landon.

Pecan was actually asleep on the path next to the door, cuddling a giant inflatable apple. Revati crept lightly inside, her feet barely touching the floor, her weight being carried in her hips. Something was making a faint shifting sound in the rose room.

Revati reached into her left pants pocket, pulling out the tiny container of mushroom tent spores. Carefully and ever so gently, she crept into the rose room. Someone was stooping over Dityaa, and as far as Revati was concerned, that was all she needed to know. Revati undid the top of the container and blew the spores towards the figure.

Within seconds, the fungus blossomed and twisted, wrapping itself around the figure who was now gasping in horror. The rose room suddenly filled with light, and the figure fell to the ground like a caterpillar, half stuck in a cocoon. It was Paulette.

#comic #nanowrimo2023 #nanowrimo #science fiction #life on mars #speculative worldbuilding #speculative fiction #saying farewell to armageddon #ya scifi #scifi #ya dystopia #ya fiction

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callisto-corner · 1 month

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Cooking at 3am | Geto Suguru

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn reader

You remember those words from Virginia Woolf: 'One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.' She had a point, didn't she? Food, it's like the engine oil for your body. Without it, you're just grinding gears. And right now? Well, let's just say you're feeling the effects. Since two in the morning, it's been a battle on all fronts. Physically, emotionally, mentally—you're feeling the strain, the emptiness gnawing away at you .

A solitary tear escapes, trailing down your cheek as you clutch your rumbling stomach, wondering why Geto hasn't stirred yet. Seriously, does he sleep through earthquakes? you roll over to the small table, the moon's feeble light filtering through the curtains, barely illuminating your quest for sustenance. It's a scene straight out of a tragic romance novel, only instead of longing gazes, there's just you and your grumbling belly, desperately searching for snacks in the dark and there was none. A tragic ending in truth but one you refused to accept.

You unplugged your phone and it blinked. The clock struck 2:30 and it was time to deploy. Guided by the soft illumination of the moonlight seeping through the curtains, you navigated towards the door with deliberate steps, each footfall measured and precise. You spared a brief glance at Geto, cocooned in the warmth of the duvet, his peaceful slumber undisturbed by the nocturnal activities unfolding around him.

With practiced precision, you reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly to minimize any noise. The hinges yielded with a soft murmur, barely audible in the stillness of the night. Casting one final glance at Geto's peaceful slumber, you slipped out into the hallway, leaving behind the cold of the room for the cool embrace of the night.

The darkness enveloped you as you ventured into the living room, the moonlight filtering through the windows providing little assistance. With a quick flick, you activated the flashlight on your phone's camera, its beam cutting through the shadows and revealing the path ahead.

Navigating through the familiar terrain, you made your way towards the kitchen, each step cautious and deliberate. After a few moments of searching, your efforts were rewarded as you located the switch for the kitchen's light. With a click, the room was bathed in illumination, casting a warm glow over the countertops and cabinets.

Relieved to have finally made it to the kitchen, you wasted no time in getting to work. With your stomach rumbling impatiently, you eagerly scoured the pantry and refrigerator, hoping for a quick fix to satisfy your midnight cravings. But as you peered inside, your heart sank.

As you scoured the pantry and refrigerator, your hopes dwindled with each empty shelf. No chips to crunch on, no crackers to nibble. Not even a solitary cookie to salvage the situation. Instead, all you found were ingredients that required cooking—nothing suitable for instant gratification. Not a juice box or an apple in sight.

And then, like a slap in the face, it hit you: today was grocery day. The realization hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of your oversight. With a sigh of resignation, you accepted your fate and prepared to face the challenge of cooking up a meal from scratch, determined to make the best of the situation despite the inconvenience.

With a sense of determination, you propped your phone up against the knife holder, relying on the video's guidance to cobble together a meal. But frustration mounted as you realized that key ingredients were missing, throwing a wrench into your culinary plans. With a heavy sigh, you cracked your brain, considering alternative options to salvage the situation.

As if on cue, Geto's voice pierced the silence of the dark hallway, catching you off guard. "What do you think you are doing?"

You couldn't help but let out an involuntary gasp, your hand flying to cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to hold back your outburst. The sound of your own heartbeat thundered in your ears, drowning out any hope of a coherent response as you watched Geto's calm face from across the kitchen.

And then, with a pointed gesture, he directed your attention to the sign above the stove—a sign you had failed to notice until now. The bold letters spelled out your ban from the kitchen, accompanied by a flurry of exclamation marks that left no room for ambiguity.

"Really?" you exclaimed, a mix of disbelief and amusement coloring your tone as you turned back to face him. His upper body rested casually on the island's marble surface, his expression calm yet resolute. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he met your amazed gaze. "I still want a house to live in," he stated matter-of-factly, reaffirming the rules he had set in place.

"Come on Sugu" you placed the pot on the stove. "It was an honest accident"

"And I honestly," he began, his voice gentle as he met your gaze, "would still like to live in this house and not its ashes." your small smile dropped as you watched him. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Can you teach me then?” you threw your hand in the air.

He gestured a hum to your request, as he washed the vegetables. “You’d like to learn?” he turned to you

You have never cooked anything out of a small childhood mac and cheese. It was simple and it was tasty. Only required boiling water and after simply separating the liquid from the macaroni then you added cheese.

Your admission hung in the air, a stark contrast to the warmth of the kitchen. It was a confession that spoke volumes, revealing a vulnerability you rarely showed. Geto's expression softened, his eyes reflecting understanding and empathy.

"Never cooked anything beyond a childhood mac and cheese?" he echoed, his voice gentle yet tinged with curiosity.

You nodded, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. It was a humbling admission, but one you knew you needed to make if you were ever going to learn.

Without missing a beat, Geto turned off the water and dried his hands, his movements deliberate yet comforting. "Well, then," he said, a spark of determination lighting up his eyes. "It's time we change that."

"I'll leave the vegetables duty to you," he added, gesturing towards the colander of vegetables that he had placed in a bowl to catch the dripping water.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Geto set to work, his focus unwavering as he began to prepare the shrimp with practiced ease.

Throughout the cooking process, Geto patiently taught you how to julienne carrots and peel various ground provisions efficiently. His guidance was clear and encouraging, and you absorbed his instructions eagerly, eager to learn and improve your cooking skills.

As you watched Geto work his magic in the kitchen, a surge of excitement and anticipation bubbled up inside you. This wasn't just about cooking; it felt like the beginning of a whole new culinary adventure, and you couldn't wait to dive in.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Geto, you are soaked in the sights and sounds of the kitchen—the sizzle of the shrimp hitting the pan, the aroma of spices mingling in the air. His movements were confident and sure, a testament to his expertise in the kitchen.

As Geto poured the shrimp into the pan, the sizzle of the seafood hitting the hot surface filled the air with an enticing aroma. With a deft hand, he sprinkled the perfect blend of seasoning over the shrimp, each movement deliberate and precise. You couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as you watched him work, eager to play your part in this culinary symphony.

Instinctively, you reached for the dishes, your fingers dancing across the smooth surface as you prepared to assist in any way you could. As Geto stirred the sauce, you moved seamlessly beside him, your actions perfectly synchronized as if you'd been cooking together for years. It was a fluid collaboration, each of you anticipating the other's movements with a natural ease.

And then, as the aroma of the simmering sauce filled the kitchen, it was time to taste. Geto reached for a fork and a small plate, his movements deliberate as he carefully selected a plump shrimp from the pan. With a gentle touch, he dipped the fork into the sauce, ensuring that each bite would be infused with flavor.

You'd like to believe that no other man could have held a candle to a man like Geto. He, a man whose essence radiated warmth like a cozy hearth on a winter's night. His patience wasn't just a virtue; it was a cloak he wore with effortless grace, never once allowing the chaos of the world to ruffle its serene folds. And his kindness? It flowed from him like a gentle stream, soothing the weary souls he encountered along life's winding path. Geto was the embodiment of tranquility, a steady anchor in a sea of uncertainty, his presence a balm to those fortunate enough to know him.

As he held out the fork to you, offering you the first taste, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. Taking the morsel of shrimp into your mouth, you closed your eyes, savoring the explosion of flavors that danced across your tongue. You hummed as the food melted in your mouth, the spiciness and sweetness of the sauce mixed the spiciness erupting a tiny cough from you. .

“Is it any good?” he asked

You couldn't help but chuckle at his question, even after countless meals he'd prepared for you, his humility never faltered. “Now you're just fishing for compliments,” you teased, giving him a gentle poke in the chest.

“But if you must know, I think you know the fastest way to my heart”

His smile widened, a mixture of pride and satisfaction evident in his expression.

“Then I'll just have to keep cooking for you, won't I?”

#jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #geto suguru headcanons #geto #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu geto

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 3 months

Text

[Smut Challenge - Neighbor Series] John "Soap" MacTavish*Fem!Reader

Soap with a Jogging partner!Reader neighbor.

Word Count: 2.1k

CW: 18+, mdni, pet names, shower sex, thigh fucking, I’m practicing writing smut :) (maybe poor Scottish accent I tried sorry)

pls tell me if I forget to tag something in CW! tyvm!

Johnny loved his neighborhood quite a lot.

Near both the base and a gym, not far from a lake with fresh air and kind people greeting him when he was off from the base and going on a jog every morning.

so it was not exaggerating to say he missed his flat so much when he finally came back from a 3 months mission and was fortunate enough to have 2 weeks off to recover from the injury he gained during the mission.

The injury wasn’t that severe, just a bullet grazed over his right hand, but since the mission was successfully completed and all his teammates were going home during the vacation (or Simon munching chips in his flat near the base too) there was no reason for him to stay at the base.

Johnny climbed up the stairs to his flat at midnight, the whole neighborhood was silent, only the moon was his company, so he tried his best to stay quiet too, but just as he passed by the room next to his, he noticed it wasn’t vacant like the last time he came back here.

Maybe he could find out who his new neighbor was tomorrow after he washed off all the grime and dirt from his body so he wouldn’t leave a nasty weird man first impression for them.

Johnny still kept up his morning routine — jogging, since the wound wouldn’t be affected by simply running around.

Putting on his sweatpants and a hoodie, he stepped out the threshold and bent down to tie his sneakers.

A creak from the next door drew his attention.

You came out from the next door, and his eyes traveled, from your joggers, up to your sports bra, then stopped at your face.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you the moment his eyes laid on you.

You looked majestic, even though you were just wearing normal clothes for exercise, but he adored your body’s curves, the lines of your muscles on your thighs, firm abs on your tummy but still got a little belly, hair tied high up into a cute bun.

“Oh, Good Morning!” He watched you recognize his existence and greeted him with a dazzling grin.

“Mornin’ lassie.”

“Haven’t seen you since I moved in, nice to see my neighbor is enjoying morning jog too.”

Johnny strolled to your side, and the sight of you raising your head to meet his eyes almost made him want to squish you into a hug.

“aye, ye wanna go with me? used to have a run along the lake.” He invited, jogging alone was a bit boring, and now there was a pretty girl in front of him, of course, he wouldn’t let the chance slip from his hand, and from how your eyes brightened to his words, he knew he made a right step to the relationship.

“that’s where I always go for!” You signaled him to follow you “Of course, I would be happy to have someone with me.”

It became a morning routine since the first day you two went to jog together.

Every morning, Johnny stepped out of his flat and was met with a smile that he thought was too pure for a man like him.

He wasn’t a stupid man, he could sense the sparkles between you two, the blush when you handed him a bottle of water and accidentally touched his hand, the fluster and attempt to cover your face when he flirted with you, how you stared at him while he was looking at other direction and unaware of he noticed it.

Not like he didn’t enjoy your affection, Johnny told you his job when you asked about his injury, and when 2 weeks passed and he went back to work, he no longer stayed at base when he could choose to live at his flat, so he could continue the morning routine you two had.

When he told you he was deployed and won’t be back for weeks even months, he always got a lot of things from you to bring to base, from snacks and sweaters to handwriting, spoiling him with your love.

He realized you became the person he thought of within the arduous missions. He recalled your laughter the times he told you jokes, your relaxing sigh when you two were resting from a run, the breeze blew away the heat, and he turned around, eyes unable to move away from your smile.

but he ate his own words, this time he came back from a mission, but he got shot in his left shoulder, he didn’t come back without injuries as he promised you.

Johnny felt a bit guilty when he knocked on your door, and your face changed from excitement to concern when his bandaged left shoulder came into your sight.

“Johnny! How do you get this?” You quickly but carefully pulled him inside, pushing him to sit on the couch.

“Nothin’ to worry about, jus’ a bullet.” Johnny playfully squeezed the hand you used to inspect him, but you glared at him.

“No way a bullet wound is ‘nothing’, how many days do you have this time before you need to go back?”

“3 weeks?”

“Good.” Your voice firm “From now on, you’re not allowed to do anything except sit still and recover, got it?”

“I ken ye worried but-“

“I said do you got it, John MacTavish?”

“aye, bonnie...”

Johnny obediently sat on the couch after you threatened him to not move around then headed into the kitchen to make some food. He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, sometimes you’re adorably stubborn, especially when it was regarding his health, but 5 minutes later, he still sneaked up to your back.

“Hey...”

“Ah!” You let out an incredibly monster-like squeal when Johnny snaked his arms around your waist, and you looked over your shoulder, the face of the man you secretly liked was just a few inches away from yours.

“Didn’t I tell you to sit on the damn couch?” You scolded.

“can nae jus’ sit right there and look at ma bonnie busy in the kitchen.”

Johnny nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, he loved the scent of yours so much, mixed with the shampoo, lotion, and your detergent, he couldn’t describe the smell, but it never failed to fascinate him.

“you know...” abruptly, you stopped the hand cutting the vegetables “You shouldn’t do this to people other than your girlfriend.”

You hanged your head and stayed still, maybe it was time to tell him your feelings. This time he was lucky enough to come back alive, but who can guarantee the next time? Every time he left, you swallowed down the confession that was just about to slip out of your lips, you were afraid, you knew he must be good at his job, but each time you saw him with bruises and wounds, you were scared at the possibility of not having a chance to tell him you want your relationship not only stay at jogging partner or friends.

but Johnny just let out a question, voice full of confusion.

“You aren’t?”

You turned your head and faced him “Wait, Am I?”

“Aren’t we together for months?”

“but you didn’t tell me you like me!”

“Oh.” He smirked, “So you don’t want to be my girlfriend?”

“...” mouth agape, you literally can progress what you just learned.

“ye gonna drool all over ye shirt, bonnie” Johnny’s pinch on your cheek brought you back to reality, the gear in your head finally started functioning again, and you pouted at his laugh.

“You are an idiot.” You said.

“aye aye, I’m an idiot, your idiot, okay?” He just shut you up with a kiss on your lips.

You were not going to complain.

You and Johnny finished the dinner and cleaned up the kitchen. You wiped your hands on the towel and called out at Johnny — who kept following you around.

“Alright, you go to shower first, tell me if you need anything, okay?” You handed him some towel, but he just stood there, and the smugness on his face told you he was definitely planning on some weird things.

“I can nae lift my arm, I can’t wash myself.” He spoke.

“I can help you wash your hair first.”

“I can’t reach down to wash my feet.”

“I can-“

“Do ye really want yer poor boyfriend who’s severely injured wash himself?” He stepped closer, shoulders slumped and eyebrows collapsed.

“You said it’s just a bullet.”

“It hurts.”

“...fine.” You obliged, and you watched his smile become wider, this man just understood how to let people fall into his trap by his fucking doe eyes and begging.

so now here you are, standing next to your naked boyfriend who took off his clothes suspiciously too fast, and now he was staring at you again, feigning innocence on his face.

“Why ye haven’t taken off yer clothes, baby?”

“I'm going to help you wash your body, not wash mine with you, Johnny.”

“But ye will get yourself wet if you don’t.”

“You sure you won’t do other things?” Your eyes narrowed, asking him a question you weren’t even sure you could accomplish.

“I won’t, please?”

“...” You sighed and started taking off your own clothes. Fuck this man and his fucking beautiful eyes.

Johnny turned on the shower, and just as you stepped into the shower, the steam had already filled the bathroom.

“bend down a bit.” You commanded, and he did what you said, lowering himself so you could put shampoo on his hair, and massage his scalp.

You heard him let out a sigh, and you chuckled.

“Is it comfortable?”

“aye.” his eyes closed, indulging in the sensation.

Keeping massaging his scalp and making sure every inch of his hair had been washed, you rinsed the bubble off his hair.

Suds flew past your feet, and just as you turned around and ready to squeeze some shower gel, a pair of feisty hands settled themselves on your hips without warning.

You should know this man wouldn’t stay still from the start.

“Yer so fucking beautiful, bonnie” You could feel his chest pressed against your back, and something was prodding at your thighs.

“Didn’t I tell you nothing but a normal shower just a few minutes ago?”

“Just can’t help myself when my pretty lass is right here helping me.” He nudged forward, now you could feel his shaft sliding between your thighs.

A moan came out from you when Johnny licked a line from your shoulder to your neck, resonating in the cramped bathroom.

“Hey! Johnny! ahh...! You will tear your stitches!” you tried to reprimand him, but you couldn’t even convince yourself, voices shudder and pussy dripping juices on Johnny’s cock when he started sliding it against your slickened folds.

“Then ya can help me, lovie, hmm?” He suddenly halted his movements, only teasingly slapping his tip at your folds.

“You bastard...” The eagerness you had for this man finally conquer your rational mind, you stuck your ass out and humped back, whines rolled off your tongue uncontrollably when Johnny’s thick cock kept stimulating your clit every time you shifted, whilst Johnny moans out his pleasure, you slightly plumpy thighs with some muscles added the proper pressure to massage his cock.

You could feel his shaft twitching, indicating his high wasn’t too far away, so you quickened your hips, making the man let out a sexy groan that made your cheeks flush redder than rose.

“gonna cum if you keep moving like that... fuck...” Johnny panted right into your ears, his Scottish accent heavier than usual, voice sweet like candy, alluring you to reach an arm back, shove him down and pull him into a passionate kiss.

The squelching sounds fueled the impulses in your mind, tongues dancing with his, and you felt like your orgasm was just a step away.

“Johnny... ahh... I’m cumming!” Your legs trembling due to the bliss, and Johnny just swallowed all your moans down with another deep kiss, and just as his tongue swipe through your bottom lip, the knot in your tummy untied, your muffled scream was drank down by him, and you heard Johnny broke the kiss few seconds after and groan, warm and milky cum staining your inner thighs as his groan lasted long.

Both panting hardly, Johnny hugged you against him with his good arm, your ear abut on his chest, and a warm feeling occupied your chest when you listened to his steady heartbeat.

“Guess we gonna clean ourselves again.” You muttered.

“Ye mad?” A peck landed on your cheek, you saw the sly glints in Johnny's eyes.

“Well, not that I can’t forgive you for this time.”

#soap x reader #soap x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mctavish x you #soap smut #john soap mactavish smut #cod imagine #cod x reader #soap mactavish smut #cod x you #female reader

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istoleyoursk1n · 4 months

Note

Hii 💕 can I request where Gale,Wyll,Halsin,Astarion are cuddling with a female Tav in the middle of the night the owl bear cub walks up to them and stares before trying to cuddle her as well thank you💕 sorry to bug

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅

How would the boys react to Tav cuddling with them at night ft. The owlbear cub!

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Gods, does it really have to join us? Yes? Oh, fine. But don't put the poor thing near me, darling, it smells! Don't give me that look, I said what I said.”

He likes the cub don't worry

It was a quiet night with you and Astarion, one which was spent with a couple of bottles of wine and the occasional silent laughter. All but him and you were awake at this time, bickering and bantering as the alcohol slowly sank in.

It started off with his usual snarky remarks in regards to your companions (Gale), then about the various foes you've both slayed and how they were absolutely hideous. Oh, and how he nearly broke a nail. He’s devastated.

Even so, the both of you were content with each other’s presence. a sudden warmth filling his otherwise undead heart.

Though he didn't admit it out loud just yet, he had never felt more alive in his life. Every moment he spent with you was making up for all the years of suffering he had been out through.

Who knew that one quiet night alone by the campfire could make him feel… hopeful. Hopeful that whatever you both may face, he wouldn't have to stand alone in fear. He has you.

And just when he thought the moment was right. Just when he thought he could finally lean in for the sweet kiss he’d finally come to initiate himself, that was when you both heard a sudden chirp.

The face he made when he suddenly saw his midnight snack the owlbear cub nudging against you was priceless, he couldn't decide whether he wanted to curse it or awe at the poor thing.

I mean. It was an adorable sight. But gods damnit this was supposed to be his moment! Nevertheless, he settled with cuddling both you and the owlbear (to his reluctance, he's still quite bitter about it.)

: ̗̀➛GALE

“Well hello there little one! I wasn't particularly expecting to have another join such a special night but how can I to turn away this fuzzy friend of ours? Perhaps I could put on another light show! Dedicated to the both of you this time. How does that sound?”

He was in the midst of conjuring a few light spells here and there as you two nuzzled up together, giving you a tiny little light show all for you.

He simply adored the twinkle in your eyes every time he began to show a few magic tricks here and there, anything to make you smile of course.

This man would light up the sky with the most brilliant of stars for you, but trust and believe that above all the comets and moons above, you will always be the most radiant thing he could have ever admired.

He probably would have tried to teach you a simple trick or two (assuming you aren't already a knowledgeable wizard such as himself), so both of you could light up the sky together.

He could have written a hundred love letters all in your name right then and there and still, each word could never have captured just how deeply he treasures you.

All his time studying and channeling the weave in all of its forms and yet all of the comforts and powers it may hold could never compare to the ultimate bliss he feels when he's with you.

He was a mere second from pulling you closer, a tiny inch closer from finally pressing a sweetened kiss against those spellbinding lips of yours, and he would have gotten it if it weren't for the damn owlbear pouncing atop him.

He nearly screamed He was all so good at pretending not to be startled. Despite the interruption, he could hardly remain upset for long, not when the cub was this adorable! However, he still managed to wriggle a quick kiss against the corners of your lips before you eagerly brought the owlbear closer to the both of you.

He was perfectly content with sharing you with the cute little thing, both of you felt so warm, and if he could, he’d be sleeping right then and there.

He did in fact fall asleep.

: ̗̀➛WYLL

“Oh! Well, won't you look at that! Perhaps our furry little companion would love a dance lesson of his own? No? Ha! Cuddling it is then, come here! Both of you! Nothing but another sweet thing to brighten up the mood.”

He had spent most of the night dancing away with you in his arms. In the bright glowing moonlight you looked absolutely stunning in ways dreams of his own could never compare.

While he wished for this intimate dance of yours to go on for longer, he was perfectly happy with cuddling up next to you too.

Amidst the silence of the night, he would whisper every sweet little thing he's come to adore about you, describing you in ways that could have made your heart swoon again and again.

You’d always find your own hand interlocked with his as if your hands were the only things he’d ever want to hold onto. His touch was always soft, no matter how smooth or calloused your own hands may be, he treated them as if they were the most fragile thing on earth.

The one thing that would shatter him completely is if, in the midst of cuddling, you decided to gently caress his horns or the ridges on his skin, kissing them would only take the words out of his lips. His heart is wholly yours, he couldn't ask for anything more!

If he could, he’d hum a soft tune, lulling you both into a peaceful rest where for just this night and hopefully many more, you both can be lost in a calming peace.

Everything seemed perfect, specifically the perfect time to finally plant a soft kiss against your lips. A kiss he knew would light his heart ablaze and scorch him completely, body and soul- but then he heard a soft little chirp.

He felt no bitterness at all the moment he saw those wide beady eyes of the camp’s lovely little owlcub stumble along to cuddle with you both. In fact, he practically lit up! He was already scooping up the damn thing as if it was his own child, already pulling the sweet cub into a hug.

The kisses he was going to give to you were given to the little bundle of joy, but don't worry! He does have some left reserved just for you.

: ̗̀➛HALSIN

“Hm, as they say, the more the merrier. Who am I to exclude one of nature’s own from a well-needed embrace. Isn't that right, my heart? Besides, the little one is far too adorable for me to simply ignore.”

He was already practically bear-hugging you from behind, capturing you in his arms so it was a tad bit difficult to escape. Though you could tell he was being as gentle as possible, a single tug and he’d let go of you if you so wished.

His head was buried against the crook of your neck, taking in your scent which he had come to grow absolutely obsessed with. There was always something about the way you smelled that made him all the more enchanted by you.

He wouldn’t say much, not when he was this relaxed, the sounds of nature around you both were enough to fill the silence.

You could tell that he was holding back, his hands trying their hardest to remain where they were rather than completely traveling all over your body. As much as he was able to hold himself back, it was always incredibly difficult to do so.

With your permission, his hands would go everywhere, worshipping each part of you as if you were a true deity. One that he was helplessly bewitched by.

There would be a subtle twitch from his fingers each time he touched another part of your body, almost as if he was resisting to urge to go further but he remained behaved. He would save the far more intimate nights for another day as this was supposed to be something far sweeter.

However, if you begin to touch him back? He’d be on the verge of losing himself entirely. Perhaps even a soft warning would slip out of his lips, attempting to both calm himself and stop you from pressing even further less this was what you truly wanted.

In the middle of all his resistance, he’d eventually lose control, his body once more transforming into a bear just as he always does when things became far too overwhelming for your sweet Druid, it was only the sound of a tiny chirp that managed to bring him back to his senses.

He’d calm down the moment he made eye contact with the owlbear cub, his bear form smiling down at the little creature as if he was truly pleased to see the small creature. What was going to be a rather intimate long night between you two soon became a happy little snuggle pile with you, bear Halsin, and the lovely owlbear cub.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanon #bg3 headcanons #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #astarion #wyll #gale #halsin

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drewsephrry · 5 months

Text

slut!

Harry Styles x reader

Inspired by: slut! -Taylor Swift

Warnings: kisses, curse words, crying, drinking, smoking

Words: 1.3k

Being this young is art

The party is loud inside the house. Too loud for her liking. So there she sits in one of the sunbeds, beside the aquamarine moonlit swimming pool. Her lover laying on a pink flamingo floatie in the middle of it.

“Care to join me, darling?” His British accent, thick and inviting. Y/N looks at his green eyes shining even from afar and nods as she gets up. He gently gets off the flamingo and swims to the end of the pool where she is closer to.

He holds his hand up for her to take and she walks closer to him. Her mouth salivating at the sight of him. Long hair, now wet, wrapped in a bun, tanned and toned body adorned with tattoos, black shorts sticking on his thick thighs.

“You alright, my love?” he asks, as they swim towards the edge of the pool that overlooks the ocean. She nods.

“Do you need anything? You want me to get you a drink?”

What if all I need is you?

“No, H. I'm fine. Just want to stay like this with you in this moment.” She explains, turning away from him and looking away to the ocean, embarrassed by her confession. He hugs her from behind and kisses her shoulder gently.

“I adore you.”

Butterflies erupt in her stomach from lovesickness.

She turns around to face him and kiss his lips. They taste like tequila and mint. With his help, he has her pinned on the pool wall and her legs wrapped around his waist as they share kisses and sweet nothings underneath the moon.

After a little while, the couple gets out of the pool to dry off and join their friends in the party. Y/N puts back on her tight little skirt from earlier and Harry passes her his white t-shirt, after she dries herself with her towel. Harry puts back on his red and black checkered flannel and grabs his girlfriend's hand, walking together towards the house.

The music is really loud. People are drinking and dancing on the makeshift dance floor. Others are making out or playing beer pong.

Y/N grimaces, as Harry guides them where the boys were hanging out earlier. The boys greet the couple again and offer them drinks. Both of them refuse as Harry pulls Y/N to sit on his lap, on the couch.

And if I'm gonna be drunk

Might as well be drunk in love

Girls pass giggling and staring Y/N down, wishing they could be in her place. Wishing Harry's arms wrapped around their waist and kissing their necks.

“She's such a slut!” a jealous voice among the crowd makes herself known.

But if I'm all dressed up

They might as well be looking at us

And if they call me a slut

You know it might be worth it for once

The boys are smoking, drinking and having fun. Y/N isn't having it though. She tries plastering a fake smile on her face, for the sake of the handsome man under her. But she can't take her mind off the girls whispering about her.

“Harry?” She asks quietly, the music making it not noticeable for everyone else. Harry whips his head towards her and nods, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yes, sweetheart?” “Can we go?” she asks, playing with the rings on his fingers, wrapped around her waist. Harry nods and helps her get up. He says quick goodbyes to everyone and pulls Y/N with him.

“Hi Harry!”

“Oh my god, you're so hot!”

“Can we take a selfie?”

“I'm like in love with you!”

“What is she doing with you?”

Harry ignores everyone as he walks, holding Y/N's hand towards the front door.

The clock strikes midnight. They both are in the car, with flickering headlights, driving around Sunrise Boulevard.

Y/N is quiet. Quieter than usual.

“What's on your mind, my love?”

“Just want to go home with you.”

Harry places his hand on her thigh, as he continues driving to his luxurious house. When they reach it, Harry decides to take a shower, whilst Y/N is having a midnight snack in the kitchen. Grapes and strawberries.

Got lovestruck, went straight to my head

Her phone is ringing loudly from her handbag, that she had forgotten she even had with her. She pulls it out and sees thousands of tweets, posts and articles about her and Harry out and about. She groans and opens a random one, reading the comments.

‘How could he be with someone like her?’

‘What is she even wearing?’

‘A friend of mine told me that she was drunk and all over him at the party.’

‘She's such a slut!’

‘Whore!’

‘She was so rude the whole night and kept Harry from having fun.’

I'll pay the price, you won't

Tears are running down her face, without noticing.

Everyone wants him

That was my crime

"Fuck.” She whispers. The water just stopped running from the bathroom and she doesn't want Harry to see her like this.

She tries wiping her tears as much as she can, but more fall down with each tissue. Her mascara stains her apple cheeks, her red lipstick still intact.

“Angel, the water's warm if you want to-” he looks up. “What happened?” he asks, grabbing her face. Y/N tries to look away but he doesn't let her.

When her eyes meet his green ones with that daydream look, she breaks down. Her sobs are loud and her tears are endless. Harry pulls her to his chest and holds her while she tries to calm down. He plants kisses all over her face, wiping the rest of the tears that dared falling.

And I break down, then he's pullin' me in

In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

“Shh, my love. I've got you. Please don't cry.” He whispers. Y/N finally calms down but keeps holding Harry close to her.

“What happened?” He asks, concerned. Y/N gives him her phone and he reads the comments.

“Baby, you shouldn't listen to them. They're so wrong about you and how perfect you are. You are a gorgeous, impossibly kind, patient person that puts up with me and those stupid parties and my friends. I had a lot of fun tonight with you and I wouldn't change a thing.” Harry confesses.

Lovelorn and nobody knows

Love thorns all over this rose

Y/N nods and pecks Harry's lips.

“Thank you.”

“How about you go take a nice and warm shower and I'll wait for you? I'll bring you a change of comfy clothes and I'll make popcorn. We can watch ‘The Notebook’, if you want.” He knows her so well. Y/N nods with teary eyes and walks to the bathroom.

After her quick and warm shower, she walks up the pink stairs in Harry's bedroom. She finds him sitting with his naked back on the headboard of the bed, hair slick back, with a tub of icecream on his lap and a bag of popcorn beside him.

“I found your favorite flavor in the freezer, so I thought why go to waste?” Y/N smiles as Harry chuckles. She joins him, wearing his rolling stones graphic t-shirt he can't get rid of and a pair of his boxers. She looks so tiny and gorgeous to him. He kisses her and pulls her close to his chest.

Love to think you'll never forget

“Harry, I wanted to thank you for tonight. The way you comforted me and calmed me down…I don't know what to say.” Y/N confesses, when the movie titles come up on the screen. Harry is half asleep, hooded eyes and a wide smile adored on his face. The tangerine light on his face from the lamp on his bedside table illuminates his features and black ink covered body.

“Y/N, I don't know if I should be saying this. Maybe it's too early.”

“The worst that can happen is that it might blow up in your pretty face and I'm not saying do it anyway but I know you're going to.” Y/N pushes him to continue.

“I'm in love with you.”

“I'm in love with you too, H.” he presses his lips against hers, moving in sync with her.

Got lovestruck, went straight to my head

Got lovesick, all over my bed

And if they call me a slut

You know it might be worth it for once

And if I'm gonna be drunk

Might as well be drunk in love

“We're going to be alright, my love.”

"By the way, you taste like strawberries."

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