#but again. i Fucking Hated Naps and GO TAKE A NAP meant i was in trouble. so naps = bad

[periprose]

Arachnid Anxiety

You're Spider-Woman, and you've been tasked with babysitting Mayday. Maybe you have a bit of stress that you need to vent about, and Hobie comes along quite conveniently for that purpose.

Genre: Fluff, reader having anxiety, Hobie giving her advice, very cute, reader is a Jessica Drew variant, perhaps mutual pining if you squint, takes place during the movie but before Miles arrives to the Society, terrible british slang attempts (sorry Hobie :'))

Word Count: 2.4k

Babies are hard to wrangle when they’re crawling up walls.

Of course, Peter B. Parker said that he needs a nap, just this once, and he needs someone to watch over Mayday while he sneaks away into the sleeping pods in the Spider-Society-System. Sometimes he and MJ don’t get sleep for days at a time, so you get it.

But Mayday is so curious, and you find yourself having to pull her prying hands away before she inadvertently tampers with things around Miguel’s labs and causes either a mass outage or a explosion or Miguel’s wrath. You understand why Peter is a little exhausted.

She’s a very cute baby, though, and you can’t help but coo at her as she clambers off the wall into your arms. 

“Who’s a good Spidey? Who’s gonna be the best of us?” You shake her up and down and she giggles, wrapping her arms around you. 

You instinctively flinch, feeling your Spider-Sense go off.

“Large statement to make. But I see where you’re coming from.” Spider-Punk comes up from behind you, and you turn to him. “She’s definitely punk.”

“Hey, don’t go claiming someone else’s kid as one of your own.” You joke, and Hobie scowls as he pulls off his mask.

“Don’t believe in claims. Or labels, for that matter.” He scratches his hair, looking effortless as he ever does, and you roll your eyes. “She is… who she is. Forgive me for using a descriptive word, Spider-Woman.”

“I get it.” You hold Mayday as she squeals at the sight of Hobie, and she motions in an uppy-uppy motion. She wants to be held by him, but he ignores her.

You never quite know how to feel about Hobie Brown. The Amazing Spider-Punk is revolutionary, known for being better than just his words– he holds himself to the very essence of anarchy. He practices what he preaches.

But you can’t quite get a read on the guy. You don’t know if he’s pulling your leg– or taking the piss as he would say– when he gives his bouts of advice while somehow simply being amazing through it all. He somehow knows what to say but he also isn’t the most comforting, and that in itself makes you drawn to him. He just happens to be kind of rough around the edges, and it’s because of that you know he truly means what he says. 

No sugar-coating, ever.

But you hate yourself, because you’ve somehow managed to fall for him. 

It’s not uncommon for Spideys to fall for each other. Peter Parker and Cindy Moon, Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy. But you know this is the one time it just wouldn’t end well for you.

You can already hear Hobie’s comments if he ever found out. He’d probably rebuke you even though you’d never try anything. Tell you he doesn’t feel that way and you’re delusional for potentially thinking that he would ever tie himself down. Spiders are meant to be swinging free and all that.

Even worse, he just happens to be beautiful. You’re positive that if Hobie wasn’t so anti-everything he would have stuck with being a runway model. His face is molded in a distinctive way that has you trying to catch his glance, even if he only looks at you with nonchalance, completely unbothered, not a hint of chemistry in his eyes.

It is with great displeasure that you find yourself wanting his bored attention anyways.

And so you’ve been swallowing your crush for the greater part of a year now. You’re sure it will pass like all things do.

Pavitr, as much as you love him, has told you many times about the “chemistry” between you and Hobie– and you have told him every time to fuck off. Not in an actual harsh way, because again you can’t help but love the guy, but because you don’t need false hope.

You’re just Spider-Woman. Another red-and-yellow suited variant of Jessica Drew, you might as well just be another Peter Parker. You know that’s not how you’re supposed to think of yourself, but it’s just how it is. Canon events brought you here, and according to Miguel, it’s not something you chose– you just happened to be there at the right time and place. You’re no Jess, who comes in on her motorcycle, raging heat and excitement on her toes– you are one of the many, instead of being exceptional like the few.

You’re not like Hobie, who is as far as you know, one of a kind.

“What’s on your mind, Spider-Woman?” Hobie asks as he picks through random tech on the desk in Miguel’s lab, taking what he feels is useful for whatever it is he does with the stuff. He’s never used your name, because he doesn’t know it.

You and a few other Spider-People have chosen to stay anonymous, for different reasons, and only Miguel and Margo know who you really are. Hobie has told you before that that’s pretty cool– he only chose to give up his name because it was easier to get along with people that way. Hobie knows there’s power in people.

“Just babysitting. Obviously.” You motion to Mayday, who takes this moment to thwip out a web and swing away from you– but you’re faster and you grab her back into your arms, and she pouts.

“Nah, nah. I mean that sour expression upon your lovely little visage, imbecile.” He pokes your masked cheek, and you find yourself blushing but pulling away from him. Hobie is like that– overly familiar and no real sense of space because he doesn’t care.

“It’s not lovely.” You retort, fully convinced of it because he has never seen your face, only your incredulous expression through the eyes of your mask. 

You think that Hobie is again being sarcastic about your unknown appearance, and because his back is facing yours as he searches through random shelves now, you don’t catch how his face frowns at your response.

“Disagreements about your anonymous-but-surely beautiful face aside– not that looks matter, mind you– you’re clearly miffed about something.” Hobie turns and crosses his arms, and it’s with a little embarrassment and comfort that you want his advice. Even if it’s kind of to do with him.

“Well, I guess, uh… lately I’ve just been feeling kind of down. Like what’s the point of all this?” You bite your lip, knowing Hobie’s feelings on nihilism. “I don’t mean like nothing in life matters, Hobie. I mean more that I don’t matt– I don’t… anyways, I feel useless. I don’t have anything special about me, I don’t really bring anything to the Spider-Society that wasn’t already brought.”

"Whoa whoa whoa. Nah, lady, you've got your priorities all twisted." Hobie pulls your arms, bringing you kind of closer to him, and rests his hands on your shoulders, making you listen. "This inner hatred stuff– that sick urge to feel shame and then blast it inside of yourself, all that repression, yeah? It's a crock of shit."

"Huh?" You and Mayday both peer up at him. You behind your mask, and she with her crocheted one. 

Hobie picks up Mayday, finally giving into her wishes to be held by him, and she immediately giggles. There’s a subtle smile on his face that warms him to you a little.

"It might feel good in the moment. It might even feel revolutionary." Hobie scowls, and scratches his jaw. "It's worthless. Notice, Spider, I didn't call you worthless. The very action is garbage, a visceral thing that brings no productive value– that's what they want you to feel."

"Ah, because then I'll never fight against the establishment, right, Hobie? I'll be too busy fighting myself." You say mockingly, taking on a fake-pretentious-Cockney accent, mimicking him, but Hobie gives you a chill look and nods.

"Now you're getting it."

"Aw." You slump and slouch and sit on the counter full of gadgets and gizmos next to him. "I know you're right, but… don't you ever get people getting mad at you?"

"You've lost me."

"Like… being so responsible." You roll your eyes as Hobie snickers and whispers the spider-mantra you all know so well. "Or just living by your own ideology so… efficiently. It's almost like a slap in the face to the rest of us Spiders. We don’t know how to cope, and here comes along Spider-Punk with all his personal assurance that even if things aren't alright, he'll make it alright for himself."

"Oi, trust me, it wasn't all that easy." Hobie sniffs and sits down next to you, holding Mayday close and then letting her go as she crawls onto the wall in front of you. "You really think I haven't had a bad day? I haven’t had my moments of self doubt, huh?”

“Uh… well. When you put it like that, it does sound kind of crazy.” You admit, and nudge him with your shoulder. “I didn’t mean any harm, Hobie. I just feel so… inadequate.”

“Just stop.” He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, and you feel that yet again, he’s somewhat unreadable. “Don’t think those things. You’re not inadequate.”

“But I–”

“Stop.” He grasps your hands, and squeezes them tightly in his own, and you wonder if Hobie has ever looked this seriously at you, his eyes soft yet firm with affection.

You’re in trouble, you think. Your heart is pounding and you’re really glad he can’t see your face.

“I don’t think you know how important you are.” He utters so quietly, in that very deep voice that has you leaning in to hear him better. “You’re not nothing, Spider-Woman. You’ve done a lot of good for your Earth-257, I’m sure, and that makes you something special. Like the rest of us– you’re kind of irreplaceable, right?”

“I guess.”

“Not ‘I guess.’” Hobie punches the side of your arm and you pretend to say ow, laughing a little. “If you didn’t exist, we’d all be poorer for it. Peter couldn’t ask you to chill with his baby, and I couldn’t be here talking your ear off.”

“But I’m not– I don’t really compare to her, you know?” You say without thinking, and then immediately squint at your own stupidity. 

“Who’s her?” Hobie is wary of how your expression is shifting. “Stacy?”

“Uh, no.” You inhale, exhale, and then decide it’s time to get it over with. “Jess.”

“Jess? Jessica Drew, huh?” Hobie smirks a little. “You don’t want to be adopted by her, do you?”

“More complicated than Gwen’s weird fantasy.” You shift on your spot on the counter, and pull off your mask after a minute of tribulations. “I’m… also Jessica Drew.”

You feel incredibly shy as Hobie takes in your face, wary of his every move as you feel yourself sweating, and he grasps your face gently, peering into your eyes and taking a look at your features, as if he’s really trying to remember them.  

“Huh.”

“What is it?” You say a little too defensively, and he shrugs. 

“You do have a lovely visage, you silly little sod. Even if it’s completely different from Jess’ face.” He laughs as you shove him away, covering your face in your hands. “No, don’t do that.”

He’s tracing your jaw, and he murmurs. “Maybe you could use a few piercings… a tat or two… ever thought about it?”

“No.” You shut your eyes. “I’m not cool like you.”

“Oh, shut it.” He leans in imperceptibly closer, and you blink, eyes open. Maybe Pavitr had a point that Hobie and you have something, because there’s not really another explanation for that look in his eyes. “You’re plenty cool, Jessica Drew. It was just a shit suggestion of mine.”

You think Hobart “Hobie” Brown is sweeter than you previously thought. You have half a mind to tell him about your feelings.

You and Hobie both look up, Spider-Senses tingling, and sure enough, Mayday is cooing from the ceiling– she leaps into your already waiting arms. She giggles at your expression.

Oh well, you think. There’ll be some other time to work up the courage to tell him.

Hobie half-smirks at her. “Way to interrupt us, Mayday.”

She looks at him all confused, tilting her head in a “huh?” motion, and you feel the same way, not entirely sure what Hobie meant by that and not willing to assume either.

He answers you by pulling your face in a sudden, swift motion, connecting his lips to yours, and in between the two of you, Mayday shrieks and laughs. She crawls off to the side of you, no longer smothered between your torsos.

Hobie is weirdly insistent– you feel like he’s been wanting to do this for a while, maybe longer than the length of your conversation (you don’t know if this is just a funny little fling for him, but you’re fairly sure it isn’t) and he’s a lot taller and lankier than you, so he really has to tower over you to reach your mouth better. He’s grasping your jaw and neck and the back of your head with a lot of intensity– you feel wildly dizzy when he pulls away.

“Uh.” Peter B. Parker is standing in front of you both, mouth wide open, and you look back at Hobie and he grins rather coolly, not really giving a damn. It’s enough to make you snort. “Wait, who are you?”

“Oh. Spider-Woman from Earth 257.” You remember Peter has never seen your face, either. “Jessica Drew?”

“Right, right.” Peter raises his hands in a whoop-de-doo motion, like he should’ve known that. “Nice to know what you look like behind the mask. Not nice to know that you’ve been avoiding your babysitting duties. Why are you two fooling around like prepubescent children? What happened to responsibility?”

“Ahhhhh, please, Peter. Live a little.” Hobie stands up, his full length of height drawing him to about the same height as Peter if not an inch taller. He picks up Mayday and hands her off to him. “Let’s not act as if you and MJ weren’t shacking up in the sleeping pods last week, yeah? Does Miguel need to know about how irresponsible you were?”

You think he’s kidding, but Peter pales and you clap your hands over your mouth, trying not to laugh. Miguel would absolutely throw a fit if he found that out.

“Uh…” Peter swallows. “At least that’s not an interdimensional tragedy-in-the-making like you two.”

“There’s no rules against that, I don’t think.” Hobie shrugs. “And if there are, fuck them. Miguel doesn’t know it all.”

“He really is punk to the very end.” Peter groans and leaves out to the hallway with Mayday. 

Hobie flashes a smile at you as he sits back down, ruffling your hair.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spider verse #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk x you #spider punk x reader #spiderpunk x you #spider verse #spider man #spiderman #atsv #atsv x reader #hobie x reader #hobart brown #spider man x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spider verse spoilers #x reader #reader insert #female reader #hobie x you #spiderpunk fluff #spider punk fluff

[st-kitten]

707

next chapter →

WARNINGS: (m.) masturbation, nicknames (baby, babygirl, good girl, princess, pretty girl) little megumi being painstakingly adorable

life as a single father trying to make ends meet was hard for toji fushiguro. his job as a security guard for some company didn't pay much. whatever he earned went into bills, rent, and groceries, leaving next to nothing for him to save or even spend. how he wished there was a simpler way to earn. he'd be exhausted by the time he came home and crashed, only to be woken up by megumi. as much as he loved the kid, getting him ready for school and out the door was harder than an mma fight.

all the babysitters he hired were useless. most of them agreed just to get into his pants so, when they found out that they were hired 'because' he couldn't be home, they left in disappointment.

toji never relied on his neighbours either. partially because they were too old or kids themselves, with parents who also hired babysitters. the closest anyone ever came to being a candidate was his next door neighbour, you.

but he vowed to never approach you. even if it meant leaving megumi to cry midday, over a glass of spilled milk. why?

[flashback]

toji had just helped megumi catch the school bus. waving him goodbye, he went back inside the building. the days got colder each passing day, which meant that he was going to have to repair the broken heater and buy some warm clothes. how ever was he going to afford it in time?

collecting the mail, he stood in the temporary warmth of the elevator, yawning. he really wanted to go back to sleep. his work began at 10 am, so he still had two hours, maybe he could take a nap. or fix that heater himself.

he stood in front of his apartment, looking through his pockets for the keys when he heard muffled noises from the apartment next door. he had only seen you once, when he accidentally took your mail instead of his and had to give it back to you. you always seemed distant and cold, so hearing you softly, yet loudly screaming a series of "yes! yes! keep doing that!" at 8 am made him wonder what the fuck was wrong with you.

he let it slide. people had lives.

but you didn't stop there. when toji came back from his work at night, holding a bag of vegetables, he heard you again.

"oh god! yes!"

and two days later when toji brought megumi home early as he got sick in school, "just like that, baby!" he had to keep babbling random trivia to his son so that he wouldn't hear you. how many times is she going to do this?

when it was toji's day off, and he was taking a nap on the couch, he heard you moaning again. it wasn't that loud, but the single wall between your apartment and his did a terrible job at muffling it. toji was glad that megumi was at school.

[back in present time]

months had passed by and he was still not used to hearing you. he'd forgotten what you looked like, so he didn't recognise you whenever you passed by him or even when you were in the elevator with him. all he knew was that he hated you for being so disturbing.

the day he was dreading finally came when he wanted someone to look after megumi for the night as he had to cover someone's shift, and not a single person was available. with an ale tankard of reluctance, he rang the doorbell, truly expecting you to open it naked, some angry fucker peeking from behind 'cause he didn't get to finish...

so when you opened the door looking the complete opposite; wearing loose sweatpants, a barbie hoodie, house slippers and your hair tied in a messy bun, half a banana dangling in your mouth... toji held back a sigh of relief.

"hey... i'm toji, i live next door," he said, trying to sound sincere.

"i mow woo yooah," you said, chewing the banana quickly, and swallowed it.

"right... listen, i gotta cover an extra shift and i need someone to look after this brat for the night."

you held back a laugh upon hearing him refer to his son like that. you'd only seen megumi from a distance. but, you had no reason to refuse.

"sure! i'd be happy to!"

toji was still unsure about this, but there was no backing out now.

"cool. i'll send him in twenty minutes." toji vanished before you could say anything else. you chuckled to yourself. for a man of his size and built, he sure was a chicken when it came to communication.

you cleaned your living room before he could come back. your place was kid-friendly enough. you made sure you prep the kitchen in case he hadn't had dinner.

your doorbell rang and you scurried to open it.

"here's a list of things you'll have to do... he's... a little tough. but he's a good kid."

you took the list and gave it a brief look and nodded.

"alright, megs, you're gonna be staying with this lady today. i'll be back soo-"

megumi began tugging his father's pants grumpily, upset at his words.

"don't be like that, kid..." toji sighed. he didn't like to exhibit his personal life in front of others.

"please? i'll get you ice cream."

megumi's ears perked upon hearing ice cream. "chocolate?" he cooed.

"yes. now go inside."

clutching a tattered dog plushie (with two heads for some reason), he stepped inside your apartment, looking down.

toji knelt down to meet his eyes. straightening megumi's sweater, he said, "i'll be back tomorrow morning. behave, okay?" megumi nodded, almost on the verge of crying. you held back the 'awwws'.

"alright... i'm trusting you. don't f- mess it up," said toji, looking at you with a glare.

"i won't..." you just smiled solemnly. you'd say the same if you were in his position.

toji wanted to tell you to not have sex for that one night, but he chose not to add fuel to the fire. who was he to tell you not to fuck? if anything, he was mildly jealous that you got to enjoy it so much.

toji left and you turned back to megumi, who was standing in your living room, anxious to move a muscle.

you sighed. "hello, megumi. i'm y/n." you crouched down and held out your hand to him. he hesitated before holding three of your fingers and shaking them. you smiled.

"sorry about this... you don't know me at all and now you're stuck with me. must be weird."

megumi stayed silent. you got up and went to the kitchen, which was open and visible from your living room easily. you opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of chocolate milk that you'd gotten free with something.

"would you like some?" you shook the carton. megumi loved chocolate in any form. not wanting to sound too excited or desperate, he gave a curt nod. you poured him a cup of milk and handed it to him.

"you can sit down wherever you want."

megumi scanned the room and spotted a bean bag. he'd never seen one. he looked at you and then back at it.

"you wanna sit there? sure!" you placed a hand on his head and led him to the corner. you held his cup for him while he tried to sit. he immediately sank into the bean bag, hearing the sound of tiny malleable balls that shifted as he sat down. megumi's eyes widened as he tried not to bolt out of there. when he was settled down, he found it pretty comfortable. he liked how he could stretch his legs and sit at the same time.

"comfy, right?" you said, handing him his cup of chocolate milk. the way he held it with both hands made you want to scream in a pillow. no way that asscrack of a man was his father.

you went over the list once more. it was simple. bedtime was 9 PM, no allergies, likes sweet food, but easily gets a sugar rush, etc. you laughed at the numerous spelling mistakes in it.

"so, what do you like to do?" you asked, sitting down on the floor in front of him.

megumi didn't like talking to babysitters. mostly because they never paid attention to him. he didn't like how they bossed him around. or how they got mad when he asked them if they could play with him. so he would stay silent. nobody ever asked him what he liked to do, so your question caught him by surprise.

he thought about it. what did he like to do?

"paint..."

"you paint?" you asked. you always liked the idea of kids drawing and painting.

megumi nodded. he was obsessed with a box of paints his father had bought him ages ago. the paints were long dried and over. but he still dipped his brush into them, watering them and painting with whatever colour came out of it.

you didn't have paints or brushes that he could use... but an idea struck you and you wondered whether he'd like it.

"wanna paint my room?" you suddenly said.

megumi's eyes lit up with curiosity. won't your walls get damaged? what if he spilled paint on the floor? or on you?

"the walls in my room are sad and empty. i have some paint cans that the painters forgot about when i was renovating. there are some colours still left. what do you say?"

megumi nodded. you got up and went into your room, searching for a shirt you give him as overalls. you pulled out the paint cans from under your bed. you took an old shirt of yours and brought it to him in the living room.

megumi had finished drinking his milk, so he thought he'd keep the cup back. hearing you call his name startled him and he dropped the cup, watching it shatter into pieces. he tensed up and felt his eyes water. you were going to scold him, punish him, maybe even hit him. he deserved it. he broke your cup.

"oh my, are you okay?" you rushed to his side, crouching and checking him for wounds.

"sorry... sorr-" megumi tried his best not to cry. he was expecting an earful at any moment now.

"why?" it was all you asked.

megumi looked at you in shock.

"cup..."

you chuckled sympathetically. "so? cups break all the time."

"i break cup..."

you stood up, unsure of how to convince him that he did nothing wrong.

"okay... you broke the cup." there it was. you were angry. megumi was going to get scolded.

instead, he watched you pick another cup from the shelf. you took the cup, and angling it far from megumi, you threw it.

"and i broke a cup too. guess we're both clumsy..." you shrugged and picked up the pieces, swiping the rest with a broom and tossing them in the garbage.

megumi didn't know what to say. had he really done nothing wrong? it was just a cup... yeah, just a cup.

"come, let's paint my room," you held out your hand to him. slowly, he grabbed it, walking behind you towards your room. your hands were soft and warm. and you didn't pull him or drag him. instead you were walking slower just for him. why were you so kind?

you brought him to your room and asked him to help you spread newspapers on the floor. then you handed him a shirt, helping him put it on since it was huge for him. he looked like a penguin.

"megumi... please, i'll give you more chocolate milk, but can i please take your picture? you're too cute," you asked, clutching your heart.

megumi blushed and nodded, looking away.

you clicked at least twenty pictures of him in your shirt, holding a thick paintbrush, standing on newspaper barefoot. you made a mental note to send these to toji.

"alright, pick your colours."

megumi carefully scanned each colour. then he looked at you. he didn't want to mess up this opportunity. it wasn't every day that he got to paint a wall instead of paper. he wanted to make sure you'd like it.

you seemed the type of person who would appear stern, but on the inside, you were really soft and caring. like a marshmallow. he wanted the room to suit you. being the observant kid, he looked around the room and learned that you liked necklaces, most of which looked like fancy saturns (iykyk). you also liked flowers as there were vases on your nightstand, windowsill and some were on your bookshelves. you also had a lot of books. what really caught megumi's attention was that you had three guitars hung on the wall. your room was totally your personality. he knew what he wanted to paint.

megumi pointed to a few colours and you handed him a few brushes of different sizes. he dipped one in red paint and began painting a few strokes on the wall (only after glancing back at you a hundred times in case you changed your mind). you sat on the bed, watching him focus. he was definitely smarter than kids his age. you admired him.

after a while, you left the room, telling him that you were going to make dinner. curry rice got an approval from him, so you occupied yourself in the kitchen, humming to yourself. you wondered what all he had painted in your absence. you didn't really care about the wall; you only hoped he'd feel safe enough to be a child.

you finished cooking and plated the food, setting on the kitchen island you used as a dining table. you pulled a chair and stacked some couch pillows on it, increasing the height of the seat. you called to megumi, but he didn't answer.

you stepped into the room to call him for dinner again, but no words came from your mouth as you stared at your wall, awestruck.

megumi had painted so many flowers and vines that ran across your wall in different colours. he'd even mixed a few colours and created new ones. he drew the saturn orbs matching your jewellery in the center of some flowers. though he could only paint a part of it and couldn't reach higher, the wall looked full of life.

"megumi..."

he looked at you, anxious to hear what you had to say.

you stood behind him, admiring the wall.

"you made my wall magical. this is so beautiful!"

megumi had a tiny smile on his face.

"you're an artist, gumi" you said, ruffling his hair, and he blushed at the nickname you gave him. nobody ever gave him a nickname apart from his father. people would often forget his name.

he felt his chest swell with pride and happiness. he did a good job.

"let's put fairy lights on the wall!" you chirped and he nodded.

you helped him out of his shirt, tossing it into the laundry basket. you sat him down on the high chair and you both sat down for dinner. megumi liked the food. but he truly loved how you let him be himself without bossing him around. it finally dawned on him that he had broken your cup, painted your wall, and was eating your food and you had absolutely no problem with it. he felt himself breathe freely.

after dinner, he helped you clean the room and stick fairy lights all across your room. you went overboard with it, but when you switched them on and lay on the bed watching them twinkle, it felt worth it.

"we did a good job, today." you gave him a high five.

megumi yawned and you took it as a sign to prep him for bed. toji forgot to give you his toothbrush, so you tore him a new one. you wouldn't dare let a child sleep in the living room, so you tucked him in your bed. you were so glad you bought that expensive comforter because seeing megumi snuggle into it turned your eyes into beating hearts.

upon his request, you tucked in his ominous dog plushie with him and bid him goodnight. megumi fell asleep easily, snoring softly. you made rounds to the room to check on him and felt your heart melt every time. he was definitely an active sleeper. his positions would get bizarre every time and you'd pull the comforter on him properly each time.

you finally slept on your couch around midnight.

toji didn't sleep a wink. the world's most boring job had him awake all night, opening gates for rich snobs who partied and returned to the semi-residential building at odd hours.

the only thing on his mind was megumi. he prayed that you weren't fucking someone with him in the house. he wondered if he'd eaten. he wondered if he was asleep right now. he hoped you gave him his demon dog to sleep with.

when dawn broke, he was out of there. he drove his dying truck straight to the parking and dashed out of the car. he decided to grab his and your mail, just so he'd have an extra excuse to knock on your door.

he didn't bother asking you for a key. he just yanked open the letterbox and it easily came into his hand. he grabbed whatever was in it.

"did you hear apartment 707? so loud.... that too in the morning"

"how could i not? but, im not surprised..."

toji heard two ladies gossip, waiting for the elevator. 707... his apartment was 706, so it had to be you. he was going to murder you.

he sped in and out of the elevator, rushing to your place. expecting to hear the sound of sex, he stopped in his tracks... you were not having sex? your door was conveniently ajar and toji spotted a few empty cans of paint outside.

he opened the door, peeking in, only to see... his adorable five year old son, jumping around and dancing with you to a christmas song, decorating a large tree in your living room. (christmas tree farm by the one and only... blondie)

if toji could explain how much he wanted to giggle at the sight, he would. but he only watched the two of you, leaning against the doorframe, hands folded, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"where every wish comes true!!!" you sang, hanging the ornaments miscellaneously. megumi poked your leg and you picked him up, helping him tie a bell around a branch.

you swayed and danced to the beat with megumi on your shoulders, who laughed loudly.

toji felt his heart melt upon hearing his son laugh. he hadn't heard that sound in a long time.

he looked around and spotted a plate of half-eaten pancakes and glasses of milk. did you drink milk with him? he held back a laugh.

as you turned around, you spotted toji and nearly threw yourself in the tree.

"dad!" megumi chirped, happy to see his father. toji took it as an invitation to come inside. seeing megumi almost as tall as him, he chuckled and looked him in the eye.

"here's your ice cream, stinky," he said, holding a bag full of ice cream cups.

megumi giggled.

toji smiled widely and you sobbed at how cute the kid was. you placed him down and he ran to his father, clinging to his knee. you took the ice cream bag from toji and placed it on the kitchen counter taking the contents out.

[next song: under the tree by sam palladio]

you handed megumi a cup of chocolate ice cream and the uselessly small wooden spoon that came with it.

"which one do you want?" you asked toji who had yawned at least a dozen times by now.

"anything is fine."

you tossed him the pinkest strawberry ice cream cup. he rolled his eyes, but began eating it anyway. you sat next to him on the couch. megumi insisted on sitting under the tree, on the tree-skirt, looking up at the lights and the ornaments from below.

"oh! look!" you said, pulling your phone out to show toji pictures of little megumi in an oversized shirt holding a paintbrush.

"what's this?" toji asked. though his kid looked cute, he still didn't know what happened when he was away.

"yeah, he painted my wall," you replied.

"HE WHAT?" toji asked, surprised. megumi never misbehaved. but i guess he finally snapped.

"yeah! it's so beautiful, i can't stop staring at it," you began mumbling.

this kid ruined your walls and you're happy about it? he thought you'd scold him.

"come, i'll show you," you signalled him to follow you and toji did, worried about the mess his son had made.

he also did not want to see your room, given that he'd heard you have sex plenty of times for it to etch in his mind like a song that just doesn't fucking leave.

he was not expecting for your room to be so... pleasant and unsuspecting. you had a queen-sized bed with fluffy pillows, plants in the room, some equipment on the desk. hell, instead of sex, it smelled like coconut.

you showed him the art megumi had blessed your wall with.

"he's great at painting!"

toji's eyes widened at the intricate designs on the wall. had megumi really painted this? was he this good at it?

"it's... good..." toji didn't know what to say. he felt really sad that his son was capable of something so great and yet toji couldn't do more for him.

you smiled, somehow understanding what he was feeling. it was the same thing you felt about yourself when you realised your love for music.

toji asked you to send him the pictures and you complied. he looked around your room in silence, not knowing what to do. but he decided to address the former elephant in the room.

"can i ask you something?"

"sure," you said, looking down at your phone.

"i don't have the right to pry in your personal life, but... next time you have someone over, keep it down? i don't want megumi to hear... that..."

"huh?"

"you know... what you and your boyfriend do..."

"i don't have one?"

"then whoever you bring home to fuck... just please, keep the volume low," said toji impatiently.

"i didn't bring any... oh, you heard that!" you said as it dawned on you.

"yeah, whatever that is..." toji wanted to hide his face. it felt like giving a child 'the talk'. and you weren't that old too...

"toji..." you called, holding back your laugh. he wondered what was so funny.

"i'm not having sex in here. what you've been hearing..." you almost held it back... "was me recording for quinn."

"huh?"

you sighed as you explained, "it's an app for people who like listening to spicy stories... i'm one of their narrators... i try to pick times when people are busy or not here... but oh my god, i'm so sorry you had to hear that..." you said with a laugh, grabbing his arm apologetically.

toji digested every word you said.

"why on earth would you do that?"

"it pays really well, you know..." you shrugged.

now you had toji's attention. "you get paid for speaking dirty?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"and narrating, reading lines, moaning, whimpering, shouting... the works."

"that's an odd job..." he commented. it truly was. he had no idea things like these existed.

"i'm a singer by profession, so this is just a side hustle. my room is soundproof so i can't hear outside noises, but sadly..."

"you're not ashamed?"

"why would i be? it's great that people like it. you should try listening to some."

"please, no," toji held his palm out to her. he heard you chuckle. "aren't you worried that people might find out about you?"

"of course i don't use my real name."

toji shook his head in disbelief.

"i know you're ancient, but try it someday. who knows, you might end up liking it," you said, showing him the app on your phone.

toji stared at you with a blank face. he wasn't that behind the times, was he? he snuck a glance at your screen, his eyes falling on your username in a corner. embarrassed, he swatted your hand away and you chucked.

"anyway, thanks for looking after my kid." toji got up and left your room as you trotted behind him.

"anytime!"

toji left with megumi, after thanking you once more and making his kid to the same. megumi had definitely enjoyed he spent with you. he wished he could do it again.

a few days passed by and megumi started to become more interactive with you, waving at you, telling about his day when you rode the elevator together, giving you some small sketches he made after you gave him a sketchbook and some colour pencils.

toji still hadn't warmed up to you, but he wasn't as dismissive as he used to be. in fact, he had gotten slightly curious about you. you lived a quiet life, or so it seemed on the outside. but he knew what you did and how unbothered you were about it.

why would people pay to listen to strangers moaning? it seemed bizarre to him. he tried to ignore it.

he was stuck on another night shift, leaving megumi with you. he was glad that his son didn't mind you. and you'd proven to be a capable babysitter. yet, all he wanted was to be near his son. home. the night couldn't get over any sooner.

toji sat in the booth provided to him, watching the streets. nights when people came and went by were just as boring as when nobody showed up. he contemplated taking a nap, but the last thing he wanted was to be fired for slacking off. especially when the night shift paid him a bit more.

he turned side to side in the swivel chair, groaning in frustration. so far, he'd watched eight mma matches on his phone, cussing at how pathetic they were. nothing entertained him enough to keep him awake.

that thing embedded in his subconscious mind suddenly resurfaced, making him gulp in guilt. he could do it. it's not like she'll know... as if he was being watched, toji switched the light off in his booth and discreetly took his phone out, lowering the brightness and pulling out a tangled pair of earphones, and plugged them in. he downloaded that app, signing in with a random email he'd created ages ago.

[mention; compromised: victoria pedretti, on quinn]

he remembered her username and typed it in. not wanting to dwell too much on it, he clicked on the first 'story' he saw. he didn't read the description. he had no idea what he was to expect. thankfully, the audio started with some context. he instantly recognised your voice. based on what he understood in the first few minutes of the introductory chapter, it was a story about an agent watching over the witness she was supposed to protect. he realised that it was a woman x woman story. not that he minded. he just enjoyed listening to your voice. you surely had a singer's voice.

the more he listened, the more engrossed he was in the plot.

"i can stay on the line, sure..." you said, as your character stood below a hotel, at a distance, watching the woman you were on the phone with, from the window, keeping an eye out.

"you're not wearing anything underneath... i might not be the only person watching, you know," you chuckled. your laugh sounded better all over, probably due to the recording quality. toji paid attention to everything he heard.

"...tell me where you're touching...does it feel good?"

"i wanna see your other hand on your breast..."

"do you want me in that room?" your voice was laced with quick breaths...

"now i'm gonna hang up...no, not to touch myself... I don't care that you're close!"

toji sighed in exasperation, truly engrossed in the story.

"wait, shit, there is a man... fuck i think he's armed..."

toji had never clicked on 'next' that fast in his life. okay, he was hooked. when he first heard about this from you, he thought it was just audio-porn. he didn't expect a full on story with a plot, internal monologue, the background noises. it was as if it was happening around him.

the next chapter had you grunt and scream as you fought some attacker. how on earth did she record this shit? was she also fighting in the apartment? he smirked, realising what a double life she was leading.

"i saw that smirk, don't get any ideas..." you said coincidentally and toji had to look around him for a moment.

"you're very, very distracting..." your voice seemed closer whenever the background music got fainter. maybe it was the mic or some technical tweaking. but it really sounded like you were speaking in his ear.

your pants were now mixed with small laughs. it sounded blissful.

"don't ever be sorry for kissing me..." toji was surprisingly okay with hearing sounds of you kissing, probably another woman.

"oh, these lips... can i? touch them? fuck..." you moaned slightly... and then laughed. "did you just bite my thumb? you're so bad... i might have to punish you."

toji had to grasp his phone tightly as heard you make out, hearing your breaths mingled with the sounds of your lips moving against someone else's. you sounded so different, so confident.

"you like that, don't you? me on my knees... touching you, licking you, tasting you..."

fuck

toji knew you were saying this to a woman, but he couldn't help picturing himself in her place. your hums, whimpers, breaths, they were all elevating his senses. he felt his pants tighten.

"yes, fuck..."

"i love your neck..." you panted. toji raised his head, gulping.

"you're so hot... fuck... me..." your moans had started to get louder, breathier.

"what if i don't wanna hurry? what if... i wanna make you beg for it?" toji instinctively let his hand wander down his body, to his pants. he loosened his belt. he slid his pants and boxers down just enough for his dick to spring out, harder than he expected it to be. your constant moans, whimpers and dirty words became music to his ears as he stroked his cock slowly.

"tell me how good it feels..."

toji groaned, quickening his speed, his eyes closed, his mind visualising your face. he imagined you doing everything he heard you do on the phone. touching him, licking him, tasting him... he fisted his cock to the sounds of your sweet voice, shamelessly.

"so good..." he hissed, as if to answer you, gliding his fist up and down his thick veiny cock, its tip glistening proudly.

"come for me, yes! yes! yes! fuuuuck..." you moan loudly, dragging the last word, breathing shakily.

"god..." toji gave up any restraint he had and let his cock burst like a dam, spoiling his pants.

he was high. high on your voice, your moans, your words. he wished he could experience it for the first time again.

a shrieking honk from the gate snapped toji back into reality. he zipped back up in a hurry, shoving his half-hard cock in his pants. he tied a jacket around his waist to hide it and scurried out of the booth to open the gate.

toji came home early in the morning, feeling floaty. he couldn't forget last night's events. not when you were right there. next door. probably recording the next one. toji didn't know how he was to face you, but he was damn sure about hearing you again.

and hear you he did. for days. he was finding the plot interesting too. but he was addicted to your voice. how were you so confident? how did you manage to record the perfect moans. did you have help? did you get off just to get a good audio? all these questions plagued toji's mind. he really wanted to ask you about it.

but how was he to do it without sounding like a creep? or worse, a pervert? but then again, you did till him about it yourself.

so, when he had to collect megumi from your house after coming back, he came up with the simplest excuse.

"see you later, gumi!" you ruffled his hair, watching him run to his father, who told him to go inside and wait for him.

before you could shut the door, he shoved his foot inside. "hey, uh... i had a question."

"come in..." you moved aside.

you were hungry, but didn't have the time to buy groceries. so, instant ramen it was...

toji followed you to the kitchen, rehearsing the imminent conversation in his head.

"what's wrong?" you asked, looking at his tensed brow.

"i'm a little starved for cash. megumi's birthday is coming and i want to give that urchin something good this time."

"awww..."

"you uh..." was he really going to ask that? would she even listen? "you were talking about that..."

you on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. so many of your friends had tried to do that same. the fact that toji was considering doing that made the composer in you mildly excited.

"you want to earn cash on quinn, am i right?"

toji's head shot up, looking at you, slightly horrified and ready to get his ass kicked out the door.

"alright."

"wait, what?"

"i'll help you... sell your voice."

"are you serious?"

"do i look like i'm joking?"

"would i even... be able to... you know..."

you leaned on the kitchen island, looking at toji, who had sat down in a chair across from you.

"just do it..."

"you expect me to do it just like that?" he asked.

"what, like it's hard?" you snorted.

toji just looked at you blankly. "you mean, you do it just like that?"

"women are expert at faking it, you know?" you smirked.

toji scoffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes.

wickedly, you began panting, whimpering, opening your mouth as lewd moans spilled out of you. you gripped the edge of the kitchen island, and whined, "yes! toji! just like that!"

toji felt like he'd been shot in the head... both, his heads... he felt a bulge in his pants. hearing you moan and actually seeing you moan were two different things. the way your eyes shut tight, brow creased, mouth opened and chest heaved, toji couldn't take his eyes of you.

you saw his reaction through squinted eyes and stopped, reverting to your normal self, scratching the back of your head, completely unbothered.

"so yes, toji... just like that..." you said, without the moans this time.

toji gulped.

"so, do you wanna record a demo? i can send it to my agent. if she likes it, she'll ask you to record a proper script."

toji sighed... what was he getting into? he didn't actually imagine himself doing it. would it be embarrassing? no, fuck it. he could really use the extra cash.

"no one can know," he said sternly.

"you can use a pseudonym. you can literally put an emoji as your name."

"whatever. as long as nobody can trace it back to me."

"i guarantee you they won't. let's send an anonymous demo, 'kay?"

"fine. but, i don't know how to do this shit. it's too... fucking dumb."

you chuckled. "it is. dumb and fun. but doesn't it make you feel... like a king, knowing that the world gets off to your voice?"

toji scoffed and smirked. oh, how he wished she knew that he had been getting off to her voice nearly every damn night, palming his dick, picturing you saying all those dirty things to him.

he followed you to your bedroom where you had set up your mic, your laptop, you desk, under a labyrinth of wires and cables. he was made to sit in the chair facing the mic. the fuck am i doing...

you tapped on your laptop, leaning forward on the desk. toji's hammering anxiety took a break when he realised how close you were. your tits were practically in his face. he'd only ever seen you in baggy clothing, so this was a pleasant surprise. they were big. but they'd easily fit in his hands. he was a little disgusted by the fact that he was severely attracted to you.

"okay... what would you like to say?"

"i don't know..."

"what are your go-to swear words?"

"uh... fuck?"

"and?"

"i don't swear because of my kid... so, i don't know... this is difficult, y/n..."

"what do you have to fear?"

she was right. what was he to lose? to fear? nothing. he knew how hot was. he knew ladies threw themselves at him. he knew his sex appeal was impeccable. so then why was this so difficult?

oh, he knew why. you. it was because of you. the way he'd listened to your moans all week, stealing glances at you whenever he saw you, and now that he was in your bedroom with you...

fuck that! this bitch just faked an orgasm in front of me without a problem. i can at least spit out a few sentences.

"how do you start?"

"well, i usually have a script and there's good enough build up."

"so, give me one of your scripts."

"really? you wanna say, 'touch my pussy'?"

"fuck no. ugh, this is frustrating," he groaned loudly, leaning back and running his hands through his hair.

"hey, wait, that's good!"

"huh?"

"say it again."

"this... is frustrating?"

"tojiiiii," you rolled your eyes and smacked his arm. "say it like you did before. with the groan and all."

"i can't just do it on command."

"do you want me to leave you here alone with a gravure magazine then?"

toji's narrowed his eyes at her. "you read those?"

"no, but, you get the point."

toji sighed. you thought of another way to get him riled up. if a sexy audio wasn't gonna happen, then an angry one it was... there were plenty of angsty stories in demand. you clicked on record without him knowing.

"stop acting like a virgin, toji," you said and he shot you a glare. you let your mouth run a marathon, "no, for real, you're a grown ass man with a nice, deep voice. you look like you'd be pissed off if someone so much as looks at you wrong. or worse, if someone tries to mess with your son-"

"watch your mouth," toji growled, grabbing your jaw with his fingers, pressing it tightly.

"or what?"

"or you regret ever letting me in this house. that kid fucking loves you. you keep him out of this. do not... ever use him... to use me," he snarled.

you pressed the spacebar to stop recording. toji pulled his hand back, putting two and two together.

"that... was something."

"i mean it."

"sorry... but damn, angry toji... is sexy..." you commented.

"yeah? you like that?" toji said with a smirk. you squealed, regretting not recording that.

"SAY THAT AGAIN." you began recording again.

toji let out a deep chuckle. "you want me to say that again, pretty girl?" oh, he was starting to get into it.

you nodded.

"beg for it..." toji whispered, slightly closer to the mic. he watched you hold back another squeal.

"use your words, baby."

you were almost jumping up and down at how good he sounded. you really wanted to use his voice. you figured your agent would ignore yours and focus on his.

you exhaled, "please, please say it again!"

"hmm..." toji's baritone voice reverberated in the mic. "that doesn't sound so convincing, princess..."

you banged the air above the desk, pursing your lips and grinned.

"please please please! i'll do anything!"

oh, toji was starting to see the fun in it. "anything, you say..."

"yes! whatever you say!" you too were blending well with him.

"get on your knees, then baby..." he said brusquely.

your jaw dropped, morphing into a wide smile as you silently cheered him. toji found your reactions entertaining. true, you'd been doing this longer than him, so you were probably used to hearing all that. you were genuinely enjoying him.

you gave him a thumbs up and he made his closing statement, making sure to murmur, "good girl..."

you stopped recording and grabbed toji by his shoulders, shaking him. "AAARRRRGGGH. you are a natural!!!!!"

toji smirked. that was oddly easy to do. mostly because you helped him into it.

"well, i'm not one to brag..."

"no, please brag."

"heh. do you think your agent will like it?"

"she will eat it. she will want to become it."

"how much do you make exactly?" he asked.

"i had to do a lot of small freebies until i got my big break. i made [good amount] per episode. i've done three stories, each with twelve chapters. im working on a fourth one... so it's incomplete."

that must have been the one toji had listened to the first time. he did click the first thing he saw. he'd been replaying the first three episodes over and over, coming undone to them. but now that you'd said there were more...

"that's actually very..."

"rich, right? i was surprised too."

"so, you're gonna send it to your agent now?"

"yep. she'll like it. under what name do you want it?"

toji thought about it. he couldn't have this traced back to him. not with megumi's life at risk. it had to be something entirely random. yet meaningful...

"how about... 707?"

you grinned. that was a smart pseudonym. "done."

"well... tell me how it goes. and once again... not a word about this in public. what happens in this room, stays in this room," he warned you.

"WAIT SAY THAT AGAIN!"

toji chuckled as he stood up to leave and rejoin his son. before he did, he inched closer to you and whispered in your ear, "beg for it, babygirl."

you groaned and flapped your hands, fanning yourself. "you're so good at this!"

you'd sent that clip to your agent and got a response from her a few days later. to say the least, you were surprised by her request.

so, you stood at toji's door, phone in hand. he opened it.

"'sup?"

"it's my agent."

toji shut the door behind him, not wanting megumi to hear anything.

"what'd she say?"

you simply held out your phone and the text she sent you.

'WHO IS THAT?' 'GIRL LOCK THAT MAN IN THE BASEMENT' 'he's got the job if he wants it. i just got a killer script! the only condition is'

toji raised an eyebrow at the last message.

'you both have to do it together'

#toji fushiguro #toji #fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x y/n #smut #megumi #Quinn #spicy #neighbours #asmr

[brooooswriting]

vada/jenna being like, super touchy and needy? after r was away for a couple of days due to going to see their fam/going on holiday..

btw love ur work!! i’m waiting for p2 of whipped :)) it was so cute

-a

Never leave again

Vada Cavell x reader

The holidays used to be vadas favorite time, People from school were annoying the fuck out of her and she hated waking up early. So the holidays, where she could spend everyday with either Nick or Amelia was great. Until she met you.

She suddenly loved school and you were the reason. While nick and her drove to school together you’d wait for her outside every damn day, walking her to her locker and to class, offering her snacks, skipping classes with her every now and then. You were everything she wished for and at the same time everything her parents wished for her, at least mostly.

Vada was impulsive, she didn’t think most of her actions through which made her being alone dangerous. But you? You were always on time, you had good grades and manners, you were calculated at most times and knew how to deal with Vada. What her parents didn’t know was that you liked to drink and smoke too every now and then. But after all you were still just a teenager.

But now Vada had a problem with holidays, your family was one of those families who liked to go away every damn holiday. When you were on short trips they allowed you to take Vada with you, but when you asked if you could take Vada with you to your aunts house they denied. It was supposed to be an only family vacation, your sister also wasn’t allowed to take somebody with her. Even after four days of annoying them you weren’t allowed to take her with you. Sure, 6 days weren’t the world but still.

So you said your goodbye with some tears being shed on Vadas side, which nearly made you cry too. After promising that you’d text her and call her everyday she finally let you go and get into the car, waving you until you were out of sight.

Obviously you kept your promise and texted her everyday but sadly the WiFi was terrible so it wasn’t a lot of texting. You could text her like three times a day, no pictures or FaceTime. Vada understood that it wasn’t your fault and was fine with your three texts but not being able to talk to you for longer than 5 minutes.

Your family decided to stay a week longer, your and vadas downfall. At least until you could convince them to let you go already, your grandparents offered to take them home which meant that you could take the car and go back home. You decided to not tell Vada until you arrived, loading up and her favorite snacks and fast food you parked in front of her house and rang her up.

“Look outside” you said as soon as she picked up, a confused grunt following your statement indicating that she took a nap when you called.

“Why would I?” She asked with a yawn, but you could still hear her standing up. So you got out of the car and leaned against the hood, smiling as soon as you saw the front door crack open.

“Y/n” she squealed, running across the street into your arms. Her arms wrapped around your neck and your legs around your waist, while your rested under her legs to keep her up. You quickly pressed your lips to her head before nuzzling your head into the crook of her neck, placing soft kisses there.

“God, I missed you” you mumbled into her, slightly pulling away to press a kiss to her lips. She hummed in delight, one of her hands playing with the baby hairs on your neck. “I have some snacks, fast food and a house alllll to myself. Wanna come?” You grinned as you sat her back on the ground, a while leaving her.

“Of course, I’ll just get my phone and tell my parents. Then we can go” she said, grabbing your hand and pulling you along which caused you to grunt, clearly confused.

“Why am I coming along?” You asked laughing slightly as you tripped over your own feet. “Hey Mr. And Mrs. Cavell, Amelia” you called out as Vada pulled you up to her room. A faint ‘hello y/n” before laughing.

“Because, I’m not letting you go again, you’re staying with me from now on” she stated completely serious, her hand tightening around yours. The small brunette pulled your intertwined hands up to her mouth, quickly pressing a kiss to the back of yours. “Now let’s go, I gotta tell my parents” she pulled you downstairs with her, into the kitchen were her parents stood. “I’m gonna go with y/n ok?” She said as if it was the most normal and obvious thing ever, and to them it kind off was.

“Alright, don’t do anything stupid” her mother said, pressing a kiss to her head before side hugging you. You smiled and hugged her back before shaking her fathers hand, mumbling a ‘Mr. Cavell’ which made him laugh. He had told you around a thousand times to stop calling him that but you stocked with him, wanting to show him as much respect as possible.

You said your goodbyes and disappeared off to your car where you opened the passenger door for her and helped her inside before closing the door and getting in yourself. Starting the car and driving off was harder than you thought with one hand as Vada whined and grunted as soon as you were in the car, only stopping when your hand started to stroke her thigh. “Took you long enough” she grinned, you chuckled and waited until the next red light to lean over and kiss her.

Once you arrived you brought your suitcase, the snacks and the fast food inside. “I’m gonna take a shower real quick, why don’t you already choose a movie?” You asked as you set the snacks down.

“You know what, I think I might need a shower too” she grinned and run upstairs to the bathroom, you chuckled and shook your head before following. Whatever one might think happened in that shower, is probably wrong. The small brunette clung onto you the whole time, making it hard to get clean but at one point you still succeeded and could finally leave the shower. Both of you got redressed in comfy cloths before going downstairs to eat on the couch while watching whatever movie Vada chose.

Even while eating her legs were thrown over yours, her body constantly touching yours. It has been a rather long time since you and Vada had been separated for that long so her touchiness wasn’t really something that you were confused by.

Once you guys finished your food you laid back, the petite brunette immediately laying on top of you, pulling herself as close as possible. A smile forming on your face as your hand rubbed up and down her back. “I want a kiss” she mumbled into your chest for the sixth time in probably 15 minutes but nonetheless you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips, this time she didn’t let you go quickly. She kept the kiss going, titling her head to deepen it, a small moan leaving your mouth causing a grin to form on her face. “You’re insatiable, you know that?” You smiled as you parted, her lips slightly swollen and red.

A giggle left her mouth as she nodded, her hands placing themself under your hoodie, causing a shiver to erupt all over your body. Her touch always had that effect on you. “I love you” you mumbled into her hair as your arms wrapped around her waist.

“I love you too” she said and kissed your chest through your hoodie. The tv was still silently playing in the back, but both of you were only focused on each other, finally being able to bask in each others presence again. You couldn’t wait to spend a week with Vada alone.

“Wanna smoke?” You asked, a happy squeal leaving her mouth as she jumped up and pulled you outside with her. You went to sit on one of the chairs, thinking Vada would sit on the one next to you but instead she settled onto your lap, her head resting against your shoulder.

You didn’t think that getting high would make Vada even clingier but it did, she didn’t even stand up when you decided to go to bed. Instead insisting on you carrying her to bed, which you did. And again, the moment your back touched the bed she was on top of you. But the thing is, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. There was something about Vada being vulnerable like this which made you melt.

She fell asleep on you almost immediately, a chuckle leaving your chest as she snorted slightly. God, you love this woman.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #vada cavell x you #vada cavell x reader #vada cavell

[newworldwritings]

If Only (preview)

paring: San x chubby!reader

genre/warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive, second chance, time travel/new universe (1950s), mentions of car accidents, female reader, featuring all of ateez (greaser ateez), featuring some of the nct & stray kids boys, smoking, motorcycles, fuckboy activities, lowercase intended, insecurities, body shaming, we hate hyerin, san being oblivious in flashbacks, yunho being an absolute golden retriever, wooyoung is a bit of an ass (sorry, don’t worry tho he gets a character development) will mainly be in sans pov but will switch from other perspectives, any bold & italic words are what the characters are actually thinking

word count: 1k+

pls reblog!

taglist: open! just comment to be added!

a/n: I had a dream of this (not with the members) & I wanted to write it out, also got a bit inspired by “Marry My Husband” but it’s a completely different plot.

preview:

“san i can’t be letting you back in every time things go sideways with her, i'm done being the second choice.”

“i’m done. goodbye san.”

those were the last words L/N Y/N had told me after i chased after her out of the school, and being the idiot i was i just stood there watching her walk away from me towards yunho, one of my best mates. since when did they become close? but those were the last of my worries. i had just lost my childhood best friend because i was too blinded to show this school i was the best at everything by going after the most sought out girl of the school hyerin. when i should’ve gone for y/n. she always stood by my side, never once showed me disloyalty, and always picked me up anytime hyerin shooed me off for her other boy toys. she never once judged me for my ways and i took her kindness and love for granted.

now im left here alone with no hyerin in sight, probably making out with jaehyun, and my mates are probably having the time of their life’s at the dance with no clue that i had lost y/n.

while watching her enter yunho's car my mind was yelling at me to go after her. but i couldn’t, i had been selfish for too long. i knew she needed me to let her go so she could move on.

but that also meant i had to move on but how could i move on with life when i had lost the best thing that i could ever have in life.

watching yunho's car pull out the parking lot, i decided that one last time i wanted to be selfish. so i chased after the car. not noticing how i ended up on the main road, not noticing how a car was coming towards me until it hit me.

i flew back and laid on the road while looking at the night sky, i wanted to scream at the universe for doing this to me. when in reality i should’ve been yelling at myself for being stupid, and oblivious.

the pain from the impact of the car started invading my whole body. it hurts. everything. mentally and physically.

i closed my eyes hoping someone or something would come and take this pain away from me. not just from the impact but from my heart as well.

i heard sirens and people rushing towards me, but i also heard someone saying my name over and over again. but i couldn’t open my eyes. until someone shook my body forcefully.

then i got up like i had just woken up from a nap. looking around trying to find out who was shaking me rather than helping me. then i noticed i wasn’t on the road, it wasn’t night time, and there was no car.

rather i was on a field under a tree next to a building that looked like our university. what the fuck.

“san!”

i looked forward to the person in front of me calling me.

“y/n?” but this was not my y/n i could tell from the very different clothes she was wearing and her hairstyle was completely different. it seemed like a hairstyle that would be done in the 1950s.

“come on, we’re gonna be late!” she pulled me up and started fixing my leather jacket. wait when was i wearing this. where am i?!

while I was lost in my thoughts i heard a group of people calling me towards the entrance of the school. wait is that?

“come on san we don’t want to get yelled at by Ms. Lisa again hurry up!” hongjoong?

it was all my friends, but it wasn’t at the same time? since when did we all start wearing matching leather jackets? but before i can question anyone y/n pulled me towards them.

“lover boy is gonna miss his chance to talk to hyerin before class.” i turned too wooyoung, who was snickering, but i was too focused on his appearance. he didn’t have his oreo hair as he liked to call it, his hair was all black with an undercut. when did he have time to do that? before i could turn to y/n to ask her what’s going on i was being pushed towards the door, following the rest of the boys, while i had time to look around the area i looked at the backs of my mates and some of there side profiles. they all had their hairs gelled back, even jongho who preferred the boyfriend style. what stood out to me the most was the leather jackets we were all wearing had ‘ATEEZ’ in big white letters with 3 motorcycles below it. they all look like they had just came out a greaser movie with this style they all had. wait… y/ns style of clothing along with my mates. am i in a different timeline..? no that can’t be.

to further prove my theory, i turned to y/n.

“y/n, what’s the date?” she looked at me weirdly.

“it’s march 29?” she said as if it was the most obvious answer. “no, what year are we in?”

“san are you ok? did you hit your head? you’re acting really weird”

“who’s acting weird?” wooyoung turned around to look at us. “san, he’s asking what year we’re in.”

wooyoung only chuckled, “he's probably just nervous because hyerin is going out with him this weekend, san it’s 1955 you bimbo. now loosen up don’t want to scare hyerin off.”

i stopped in my place. “it’s 1955!?” everyone turned to me. “aye san you sure you good?” i turned to yunho with a look that screams ‘do i look good to you?’

“oooookaayy, i’m gonna take this one to Lee before class, we will catch up to you guys later.” y/n waved to everyone while pushing me towards a different door.

what the actual fuck is going on.

#san x reader #san x y/n #san imagines #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez san #ateez angst #ateez fluff #san angst #san fluff #ateez au #san x you #san smut

[elsfleur]

⋆·˚ ༘ * COOL ABOUT IT - PART TWO

ellie williams x reader

summary: it was an odd thing to enjoy your work, but with a passion for music and a fling with your coworker the days at the record store seemed bright, until of course you meet her girlfriend.

content warning: i guess it’s angsty, very filthy smut with sub!ellie and dom!reader, mentions of cheating and bad self image, implies of degradation, mentions of masturbation

word count: 1,749 and previous part here

📼 ʾ ⠀

she would come to you in dreams, pale green eyes pointed at you like a weapon, body soft as a menace, reach out towards your face and in tenderness you’d surrender as though you never meant to have walked away in the first place. you’d wake up panting the nights you’d forgive her, you’d shower away the disgust the nights you thought to have felt her tongue– traitor was a dramatic word, but your heart claimed it as ellie’s synonym.

work had become insufferable but you grew into an astoundingly good employee, never at the break room as to not encourage ellie into a conversation, constantly roaming around and chatting up clients with entire discography conversations going as far as escorting them to their car in odd fashion, you appeared sparkling and every glance of your shine that reached ellie’s senses immediately sent her skin on fire. she had been miserable and lazy, escaping from her thoughts only through deafening music as to drown out the distance between you, you too a constant in her nightly affairs, forgiving, beautiful, near.

she melted into the couch imagining it your embrace, let the melody transport her into better times, hated herself for replacing her songs with your laugh as a favourite track, for indulging in temptation through entirely wrong means. she thought herself a symptom of disease, wreckening plague in the lives of those she cherished that once established could only widespread devastation. the idea that perhaps keeping you casual and secret would make it unknown to the universe and therefore not give it the power to ruin it was stupid, once she fully thought it out, but it had been comforting. allowing your affection to fill in the broken cracks of her being as though glueing them together was a sensation she knew selfishly not deserved but craved as a drug addict. you thought she called you her angel as a bit, but she felt it pulsing through her veins.

tears prickled her eyes for the eleventh time that shift, heavy metal not enough. turning the volume down her body rolled sideways and she begged it into slumber for moments of peace.

“wake the fuck up williams we’re mid shift” you cursed taking hold of her headphones and tossing them aside rather agressively, the girl immediately stood up overwhelmed, a scoff being her immediate response to your turned back heading out the room.

“what the fuck? you haven’t spoken to me for fucking weeks those are the first words you say to me since you left this place before i could even explain anything and you just go walking away again?”

“jesus christ, i’m sorry someone woke up cranky from their midday nap but what the fuck else do you even want me to say? oh right i’m sorry, how about how’s your girlfriend?”

“we broke up” ellie stated simply before interruption.

“great! and i suppose you want me to run into your arms straight into a sunset beach now while it rains unicorns and rainbows, isn’t that right?”

“oh my god you are the most insufferable human being i have ever met! i fucking hate you and i hate the way every time we walk to work together you have to stop and pick out a flower at every single bush we walk by and if i don’t put it behind my ear your feelings gets hurt and you have the goofiest smile making fun of me, and i hate the stupid witchy herbs you make me ruin my weed with that makes it taste so girly and like you and i hate the way my mouth memorized your fucking lipgloss to the point i can’t do anything without feeling you on my lips and it drives me fucking insane, i hate your frilly little love songs that only start sounding not so bad by the hundredth listen and i hate that i fucking know the lyrics to taylor swift now and you made me relate to them! i hate your smile and i hate that fruity perfume you wear that always gets stuck to my clothes and i hate the way you looked at me like i’m a good person to the point i almost believed you for a second and and i hate your lame ass sense of humour and how you’re the only one who laughs at my fucking jokes and god worst of all i hate the way i can’t even begin to hate you at all!”

you opened your mouth to reply though not quite sure what words would escape you, but she was quicker, pacing around and heightening her tone in complete desperation that cracked knuckles in soothing.

“no and you know what? yes i fucked up and i cheated on my three year relationship but we were fucking done! we have been done for years! and we haven’t been more done since the day i first laid eyes on you and thought this girl is going to fucking ruin my life! i am worse than a cheater, yes, i’m a coward! because guess what angel, it has always been you. god, it probably has been you since before i even knew you existed and you don’t understand how insane it is to say this because you’re the one who believes the whole soulmate bullshit! i’m a mess and i’m fucked up and i’m too much and still not enough and-“

“ellie” you called out, her eyes finally meeting your own as you felt immersed in the same light green dreams you have ferociously tried to escape from, the pink lips you knew so intimately quivering at your stare as though taunting you to kiss its fear away, you had heard enough for an answer “kneel.”

“what, do you want me to beg for your forgiveness now?” ellie asked ironic though her legs were compliant, lowering themselves till she fell on her knees, running a hand through her messy hair to keep it from falling on her face staring up at you in clear shot.

“take off your shirt” you demanded, watching intently as she lifted up her arms to remove the fabric obeying though deeply confused, her cheeks flushing red with the attention, eyes drifting everywhere except for your face until your hand found the edge of her chin and forced it up to meet your eye “you’ve done enough talking”

“i fucking hate that you lied to me” you started impossibly close to her face “i hate the way you ruined this job for me, i hate that i can’t look at you without feeling sick with desire like a desperate whore pulsating at flashes of skin, i hate that i’m so used to moaning your name that you may aswell have ruined sex for me aswell, and i fucking hate how your little girlfriend kissed you infront of me and doesn’t even know your mouth was sucking on me minutes earlier, take off your pants”

she slowly rose up to detach herself from the jeans squeezing her figure, only to be pushed back down once fully rid of them back onto the ground, you weren’t finished.

“i hate that i can see how wet you are right now, i hate that you have made it so i feel disgusted to touch you, i hate that i still want to do it so fucking bad as if your moans in my ear would erase your dumb mistakes from my memory. just a question, were you fucking her when you were with me too? nevermind that’s silly, of course you were, unless you spent six months making her believe you have gone celibate-“

ellie shook her head hard, gulping down “n-no i didn’t, i told you angel it was a façade relationship all i wanted-“

“shut up. touch yourself” you ordered as she slid a hand under her underwear, lightly rubbing on her clit and silencing own whimpers through biting down her lip “i hate that i have to ask myself if she made you feel good like i did, if she knows your whole dominant archetype is actually just hiding a brat who wanted to be ordered around and fucked so bad, right els? did she get you on her knees for her too, touching yourself to the thought of her before she even took off her clothes? or am i just special?”

“angel” ellie moaned out, inserting a finger into herself.

“does she know about the freckles on your hipbone that look like the gemini constellation? did she see the bite mark i left there last time we fucked? does she know you like it when i spell my name on your pussy with my tongue, has she tried it? do you remember what it feels like to be inside me as opposed to her, remember begging to add more fingers so you could feel my walls closing in on you, remember staying inside even after i came because you wanted to feel the warmth around you, was she warm for you, ellie?” you asked, warm breath hitting her face like a makeout.

“angel, please” she begged embarrassingly.

“please what? use your fucking words since you wanted to have the last one so fucking bad”

“please fuck me” ellie moaned out arching her back with a gasp as you easily slid one of your own fingers inside her alongside hers, the sounds of wetness with your every thrust bordering filthy.

“i hate that i can’t fucking stop dreaming about you, that you’re so fucking wet for me you’re drenched, that i’m thinking after all this making me an idiot i shouldn’t let you cum, how’s that?” you asked curling your fingers inside her which lead to a near pornographic moan escaping past her lips and an aggressive head shook to your words “i hate your stupid lake eyes and how they shine like galaxies, i hate the way you hold my hand to cross the street because you know i get distracted, i hate the way you effortlessly played my favourite song on the guitar although you claimed before to not like it, i hate how badly i want to fuck the attitude out of you until my heart stops hurting about this”

“i’m sorry, my angel, i’m so sorry” she croaked out whimpering, swaying her hips for friction with your fingers every movement making it harder to keep a cleared mind, dizzy in desire “fuck, i’m here now please please let me show you i can be good i want to be yours”

“want?” you chuckled removing your fingers and shoving them by her mouth so she’d taste herself on them, sucking slowly “you are mine, ellie. i just haven’t decided if i’m yours”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #ellie x fem reader #lesbian #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst #elsfleur

[strawberryblue-blog]

Love again. Part 2 —Pedri

summary: You and Pedri were best friends since you were little but then you grew up and things changed between you two.

warnings: none. jealousy, love triangle, angst, friends to strangers, friends to lovers.

word count: +3.5k

#SEXYNOTE: dedicated to you @http-isabela and all the people who follow me and support my work. THANK YOU SO MUCH 🩵

It wasn't how you imagined coming home for the vacations. Lying in bed, not even going out of your room. Thinking about what an idiot you were to think that if you went back to see him it might have been different.

You left with a broken heart and you had come back for Pedri to break it again. Maybe even he didn't know that. Why couldn't he see you with different eyes? With those eyes that used to see you when you were growing up. When you ran along the beach at sunset, when you fought in your backyard or when you walked home after school.

Even their families were friends. They had lived in the same neighborhood all their lives. His house was next door to yours, that's why you had never left your house. You knew her family might see you and you didn't want them to know you were here, it would be more painful for you.

His chat was open when you looked on your phone. The last few messages had been from you but there was no reply. Pedri had ignored them. He hadn't even taken the time to reply to you. That was what you meant to him.

A sob came out of your mouth as you slammed the phone down on the mattress.

Had you scared him? Did your relationship mean so little to him? Maybe you should never have kissed him. Maybe you should never have told him how you felt but you didn't imagine he would completely ignore you afterwards. You were about to lose him when he was leaving for Barcelona and you wanted to tell him how you felt because it was important to you, but you had completely ruined it.

Your sheets were already wet from crying. Even your eyes were tired and your head hurt. Nothing was going to be like before, he had asked you to stay away. He didn't even want your friendship anymore.

You sniffled when your doorbell rang. Your head still tucked under your pillow when it rang again.

"Mom?" you shouted calling out. No one answered.

You snorted as you had to get out of bed and out of your room, screaming your mother's name again but no one answered. You wiped your tears a bit and rearranged your hair as you walked vaguely to the door.

You half-heartedly opened it ready to kick out anyone who interrupted your wailing nap.

"But what the fuck are you doing dressed like that?" asked your friend, Ana. Lucrecia was behind her, coming in with bottles of alcohol.

Oh no.

"Look, Y/n. We forgave you yesterday because after what that idiot did, we understood that you felt bad but not today" she said pushing you to enter your house. Lucrecia kissed your cheek and you whimpered a little.

"Stop crying!" she shouted from the kitchen. "We don't cry for men, remember?" she walked towards you with the glass and bottle of champagne.

You reached out your hand to take it but instead grabbed the whole bottle snatching it away from him. Lucrecia looked at you in surprise. You shuffled over to the couch and plopped down on it, taking a sip from the bottle.

"I-I c-can't!" you sobbed tearfully. The two of them ran to you. "He hates me, I ruined everything!" you continued to cry.

Your friends quickly hugged you. You were a mess. You couldn't stand the pain in your heart, literally Pedri was everything to you.

"You don't understand," you said. "I've known him since we were born and I thought we loved each other."

The sad looks from your friends made you feel worse. You hated feeling this way for that reason you had left but deep down you knew going back was not a viable thing to do.

"That's enough" Lucrecia said grabbing you by the shoulders. "He's not worth it, he ignored you, he dumped you, he doesn't care about you."

"He's an idiot who thinks he's the center of the world!" continued Ana. "You have to get over him or he'll have won."

You let out a sigh. They were right. He had already decided, ignorant for years, forgetting about your existence, asking you to stay away from him. You were not going to be his puppet, letting yourself be driven by his power.

"Life is one and Pedri can shove his life up his ass" Lucrecia spat taking the bottle from your hand to drink too.

"We'll go to the party. We'll ruin his night" you said trying to believe it. Your eyes stopped leaking tears and your friends jumped around you.

Pedri wasn't going to ruin your life any more than he had. It was time to put it all behind you and move on with your life. He had done it somewhere else. With other people.

Now it was your turn.

Your friends took care of finding the perfect outfit for tonight. It consisted of a light blue silk dress and your blue sandals, and they had even done your hair and makeup for the occasion.

During all the preparation, some others had joined you and had cheered you up while they were doing the preview at your house.

You arrived at the beach after midnight, almost everyone was already there. It was decorated with lights and bonfires, although it was not cold, but it gave life to the night. Your friends did not stop cheering you on and making you have fun while dancing and laughing.

You could not avoid looking for Pedri with your eyes. Even if you did so in disguise, Lucrecia had already scolded you with her gaze several times. It was inevitable. But you were here to enjoy your homecoming and you weren't going to let your heart ruin your evening.

"Hey ladies!" someone shouted nearby. Your body turned to see the group of players arrive.

You cursed as your friends started greeting and chattering to each other.

"Hey cutie" someone said behind you.

"F-ferran" you called out to him as you turned to see him. "Hi" you greeted. You moved closer to leave a kiss on his cheek and he wanted to do the same too, making your faces so close.

"Are you better?" he asked smiling. You looked at him confused. "Lucrecia said you were sick and that's why you didn't come last night" he clarified.

"Oh yes" you replied. "It was just discomfort. Thanks for asking, Ferran" you thanked with a sincere smile.

Your eyes fell to two people watching behind the boy. You swallowed saliva when you saw him arrive. He was not alone. Someone was holding his hand as they walked towards the group. Pedri looked haughty and the girl next to him was gorgeous, definitely not from around these parts. Was that why he had asked you to stay away? Why did he have a girlfriend now? You didn't expect him to reciprocate your feelings, just to go back to the way things used to be, long before what had happened. Friends.

"I've been looking forward to seeing you," the chestnut said, leaning closer for you to hear. You sighed nervously, giving Ferran your full attention. Your cheeks flushed red. "You look beautiful tonight."

His words made you choke on your own saliva, had Ferran just called you gorgeous? You blinked in surprise. And for a moment you forgot the couple behind you.

"Buy you a drink?" you asked cordially.

He nodded.

You took his hand fearlessly, interlacing your fingers. Ferran looked at you smiling and you smiled back as they walked away from everyone. You reached the bar and ordered a drink, waiting for Ferran to order his to hand over the money.

You started talking about yourselves. Ferran listened attentively about your life in the US, then he told you about his life with football and it was so cool. Talking to Ferran Torres was amazing. You couldn't believe it that he would come up to you.

"Shall we dance?" you asked as bodies rolled on the beach.

You were finally distracted, not even thinking about Pedri (Or his new girlfriend). Ferran made everything more enjoyable, he was a nice guy and super fun. You walked laughing to the dance floor, where he took your hand and spun you around in a circle. The music was perfect and they quickly adapted to it, dancing and having fun while being joined by their friends.

Ferran's hands held your waist and pulled you closer to him, making you blush a little. It was clear he had other intentions and you weren't going to let it go. Your back was pressed against his chest as you moved your hips to the rhythm of the music, smiling at the feeling of freedom. You were enjoying his company and anyone who saw you would notice.

Even Pedri.

That when you opened your eyes, you saw him far away from you. His face was serious, his deep black eyes shone in the darkness of the night and on his lips there was a distinct grimace. Your body set off your alarms as he continued to stare at you.

The memory of his words came to your mind and moved you, resonating in your chest. But you were interrupted when Ferran turned you on top of him, pressing your chest to his. A nervous laugh escaped your lips.

Would he still be seeing you? You wanted to know.

Ferran smiled at you, pressing his fingers into your body. Your hands took his strong shoulders and you moved close enough to brush your lips against his, asking his permission. Ferran took your face with one of his hands and kissed you.

It was slow, soft and warm. But you didn't feel anything special. Not like that time.

There were no butterflies. There were no shivers or electric currents. Just the desire and need of the moment.

They broke apart after a while of kissing. You turned your head a little, seeking his gaze and when your eyes met his, your breathing stopped.

There he was, again, staring at you.

His face now looked harder, as if he were angry, his jaw tense, his eyes blacker than before. You had ignored his request and he was probably angry. But you weren't going to listen to him, who did he think he was to tell you that?

You were no longer related, why would you listen to him? Why would you walk away when Ferran was the one who approached you? You were going to take advantage of the opportunity.

You wanted him to know that you had also changed and that now you were not going to listen to him, you were not the same as before, he had said it himself.

He had ended everything between you, so you owed him nothing.

His girlfriend danced around him and he just ignored her, drinking from his bottle and looking at you as if he wanted to say or do something, yet he did nothing. You swallowed in confusion.

Now he was seeing you, why was he still seeing you, wasn't it that he didn't want you around? Fuck him.

Your mind filled with thoughts and confusion. With pain in your chest, you turned away from him. You crashed your lips against Ferran again, this time, being rough and dangerous. You knew he was still watching, you could feel his gaze burning into your body.

Your hands took his hands and directed them to your teasero, Ferran squeezed it and you gasped into his lips. You didn't care that you were surrounded by people, they were all drunk and partying enough to see you. His lips moved to your neck and when you stretched your head, you opened your eyes staring at him.

Pedri's teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed, the vein in his forehead had swollen and his neck was turning red. His reaction surprised you but you didn't think anything of it. His girlfriend was still dancing, trying to take him with her to dance but he refused, staying right where he was.

#football imagines #football one shot #imagine #fc barcelona #pedri x you #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri #pedri gonzalez

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A/n: Yessss more Cal, I love him.

Five years….five long years since you’ve seen your favorite red headed Jedi.

You missed Cal, missed his jokes, his smile. The poncho you managed to swipe before you two went your separate ways was started to lose his scent though you couldn’t help but cringed at that thought.

“God I feel like a creep.”

Shaking your head you tugged at the poncho, your head snapping to Mirrian. You weren’t quite sure you should trust the woman’s smile. “Is something wrong?”

Shrugging her shoulders she then turned her back to you. “Cere wants to see you.”

Dropping your shoulders, you bit back a groan. “I was hoping to take a nap.”

“Trust me, you’ll want to be awake for this.”

Shaking your head you tried to wonder what the hell that meant then again you could never tell with Mirrian.

Rolling your shoulders you glanced around the room spotting Cere talking to some guy you didn’t know but your heart nearly stopped seeing who was talking to Greez.

“Cal?”

Hearing his name, Cal’s eyes went wide for a moment before he started to rush towards you and soon you were being lifted off the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around you in for a crushing embrace. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He whispered in your ear.

He was trembling as he held you, he thought he would never see you again. He did his best to look you up but you just vanished and he was to scared to ask the others.

Cal honestly thought you would hate him, maybe you did hate him. Should he even be hugging you?Wincing he then let you down as he stepped back rubbing his neck. “Sorry…..I uh got excited.”

BD-1’s beeps seeming to agree as the little robot jumped at your feet. Shaking your head you laughed for a moment stepping close. “I see you haven’t changed Cal” titling your head you then placed your hand on his cheek, him leaning into your palm.

“Well not all of you are the same, I like the beard and the hair is a nice touch.” You teased.

Letting out the breath he was holding in Cal returned your smile though it turned to confusion once it finally hit him. You were wearing his poncho, one he thought he lost. “Is that…Is that my poncho?”

Feeling warmth creep up your neck you adverted your eyes. “Maybe…it’s been helping me….I can give it-”

Shaking his head, Cal quickly grabbed hold of your hands. “You don’t…You don’t need to give it back, I want you to keep it…it looks good on you.”

It was cute, seeing the red envelope the man’s cheeks though you did see his eyes darken. You’re all to familiar with that look.

Biting your lip you took a step closer, your chest needy touching his. “Can I show you the Archives?”

“I’d like that.”

Grabbing Cal’s hand, you tugged the man towards one of the rooms ignoring Greez shouting at you both.

“Where the hell are they going?! Don’t we-.”

Mirrian hummed Placing her hand on the pilots shoulder, she gave him a smile only glancing to where you two walked off, happy to see her two close friends finally reunited again. “Let them be, they’ll be fine and they’ll be much happier when they return.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean.”

Cere sighed as het shoulder’s slumped. “I just pray they stay far away from our work.”

“Is anyone gonna clue me in on what you two are talkin-.” Seeing the look on Cere and Mirrian’s face Greez’s eyes went wide before he let out a laugh, BD-1 jumping on Mirrian’s shoulder. “Well as long as it’s ain’t the Mantis then I’m happy.”

Though it was Mirrian’s turn to let out a bark of laughter.

“Why are you laughing, why is she laughing Cere.”

Cere shrugged turning away. “I am not getting in on this, let me know when they’ve returned.”

“I just find it funny that you think they haven’t fucked on the ship.”

“Wait! What! You must be lyin! Come on Mirrian! Tell me you’re lyin? Stop walking away Mirrian.”

#drabbles #drabble #blurb #blurbs #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x y/n #cal kestis x you #cal kestis jedi survivor #cal kestis #jedi survivor #star wars x reader #star wars cal kestis #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #star wars jedi survivor

[rowretro]

𝕆𝕙 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪

WARNINGS: Blood, violence, mentions of sexual things, like wyr games if ykwim

✧tag list✧: @strawbsj @nikipedia07 @enhypensccstarlight @nikisdubblchococake

✧CHAPTER 1✧

Y/n watched as the kids hugged their parents before running to the school bus, to go to their school. Sighing, she went downstairs, smiling as she heard her little pet bunny hop to the door part of the cage, wanting to be set free. "Suzi~" she cooed, opening the cage as she stroked the bunny's head, softly booping it's pink nose.

The girl lifted the bunny by it's ears and left it in the bigger cage that was in her backyard, not wanting to take the risk of letting the bunny in her house, knowing full well the tiny menace will chew threw the wires and get electrocuted. She glanced at the small greenhouse she kept just for her butterflies. Her late mother was a lepidopterist, since her murder, y/n was given this extremely expensive build in the back of her apartment.

Locking all the doors, she hopped onto her motorbike and rode to school. Upon arriving at the school, she didn't even bother entering the building, because there he was, getting into yet another fight. Riki harshly punched male in the same spot multiple times, the male striking back, aiming for Riki's face, but he ducked. She wore her earphones, and purposefully pushed past him. Riki glared at the girl, already pissed, Sungchan used this chance to finally punch Riki.

He pulled on Riki's hair and kneed him in his stomach before running off. "MOTHERFUCKER GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE YOU PUSSY!" Riki yelled, running after him. God how bad he wanted to kill y/n. The girl smirked to herself as she slumped in her seat, in the back of the classroom, doodling on her notebook. She was only a few minutes late, her head down on the table, one earphone in, as she tried to nap.

It wasn't that easy to nap when she could hear Yeonjun and Taehyun, just a few rows in front of her, mention her name a few time, disgust evident on her face as she overheard them "Would you rather... be locked in an empty classroom with Mrs Lee, or... have sex with y/n?" Yeonjun asked with a grin as Taehyun snickerred. "Please, she's hot but she's our teacher, plus Y/n is kinda hot... Yeah Ima go with y/n" the male said.

The girl threw a paper ball in their direction, then pretended to be asleep. "Who tf was that?" Yeonjun asked, sounding like he meant business. "It was me." Y/n simply said, glaring holes into his head "w-well uh... Don't do it again!" he said sheepishly, trying to put on a tough act, before turning away and continuing his little immature game. The girl was suddenly yanked off of her seat, a painful tug at her hair.

"You fucking bitch look what you did!" Riki yelled, pointing t the small blood stain on his white shirt "I wouldn't have cared if it was his blood, BUT IT'S MINE, you think I'll let you get away with this?!" Riki asked glaring at her, as she looked back at him, unamused. Riki was never the type to hit women, but with y/n it's like something possesses him, and all he wants is to beat her until she begs for mercy. God he hated that dirty smirk on her lips.

"babyboy I'll count to three, and if you don't let go of my hair, then your pretty face will be met with a chair." she dared as Riki didn't let go "3...2... 2 and a half...1 bitch ur dead." She simply said, pulling onto the chair and swinging it at him, to his luck, a teacher stepped in, grabbing the chair from her. "NISHIMURA RIKI! KIM Y/N! TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE RIGHT NOW!" the women yelled as they both walked there.

The 2 were now stuck in a room, each writting the word "sorry" until 5 pages were full, beside them was Y/n's older brother, Sunoo who had to come off of work early to see his sister's hair a mess, and blood stains on his dear friend Riki. "How many times do I have to tell you? STOP GETTING ME CALLED INTO THIS OFFICE. Y/n, I replaced dad's contact details with mine for your wellbeing, NOT FOR YOU TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT AND HAVE ME COME IN EVERYTIME YOU TO SQUABBLE OVER SOMETHING STUPID!" He yelled as the girl groaned.

Yep, this was what everyday in a high school these two went to would be like. Sunoo sighed, using his hands to detangle the girl's hair, as he brushed it out for her, glaring at Riki "And you, Didn't I tell you not to motorbike race with those boys?! so fucking egoistic, do you need to prove every 5 seconds that you're better than them?! I told you so many times, don't mess with them they come from shitty backgrounds and the police won't dare to lock them away, you have sisters right? can't you behave for once?!" Sunoo lectured as he rolled his eyes.

"Ah- you're pulling too hard!" y/n whined as Sunoo flicked her forehead "I won't let you do my nails if you keep getting into trouble like this!" Sunoo added before aggressively, yet gently brushing her hair out. Riki just slept, his head on the blank papers as y/n pulled out her back up phone to scroll through.

✧𝕆𝕙 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪✧

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen ff #enha x reader #enhypen niki ff #enhypen niki #enhypen x reader #ni ki #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura niki #enhypen nishimura riki #engene #nishimura riki #riki nishimura #enhypen angst #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen niki angst #enhypen riki #ni ki enhypen #niki enhypen #mafia enhypen #mafia au #drug lord #bloody sweet #enhypen au #niki reaction

[cupids-chamber]

— I'M GONNA LOVE YOU, RIGHT TILL' YOU HATE ME GENDER NEUTRAL READER 

IMAGINE: Yandere!Twst cast, dreaming of the MC, before they ended up Twst, and even though they searched for them, they couldn't quite find them... now that they've found them.. they can't seem to let you go.. how would they feel when they've learned that there are more competitors for your love.

A/N: I'm gonna call this the dreaming of you au! I have some plans for it.. I had to split this in part, because of tumblr's fucking word limit.

SAVANACLAW / HEARTSLABYUL / DIASOMNIA / OCTAVINELLE / SCARABIA + IGNIHYDE / POMEFIORE

He couldn’t recall when the dreams had first started, it was quite suffocating.. Looking back, he was tired of the same dream over and over again, yet it changed.. Slowly, he watched you growing up along with him, it was as if his dreams mirrored your own life.. And at one point, he believed that these vivid dreams held some meaning, there had to be a reason why he’d keep seeing the same person over and over again… At one point, he even started to believe that you were his.. Someone meant for him.. And as he grew older, he couldn’t help but search for you, wanting to validate his thoughts and imagination, which has gotten rather out of hand over the past few years. 

He didn’t even consider that others would have taken interest in you as well, ‘did they see you in their dreams as well?’.. The thought would have driven him wild, had he not been patient thus far, he might have truly lost himself then and there.. However, if he had waited this long, then it wouldn’t have been difficult to wait a bit longer.. After all.. He knew you a lot better than you know yourself.. He just needs you to realize.. That you’re his.. and he is yours…

YANDERE!AZUL, From his very first dream and then on, he was infatuated with you.. You were a positive change from his own dreadful school life, he’d take naps somewhere in class time, avoiding his schoolmates, where you’d haunt his dreams.. But he didn’t mind, you were so lovely.. So sweet.. Surely, you wouldn’t treat him like others did… would you? No! Of course you wouldn’t! You were better than those lowlifes, you weren’t stupid nor despicable, your thoughts were lovely and he loved seeing you in his dreams, your happiness was but his own.. And the thought of you by his side cheered him on.. However, when he had first seen you.. he knew immediately, that others viewed you in the same way as he did.. Something he couldn’t help but despise..  Maybe he should bind you to a deal.. One in his favor of course.. However, he knows better than that.. his dreams of you were so serene, you were far too angelic in his eyes for him to taint and bind, he'd love to see you as free as a bird, all the while having your love and eyes, look only towards his own.. it may be quite difficult to have it that way, however he wasn't new to playing dirty.. and if that was the price he needed to pay, to have his way, then so be it.. After all, he couldn't last a moment without you any longer, you were his from the beginning, and you will continue to be his, no matter what.. However, he does wish you’ll accept him before all else.. and forgive him for any crime he may commit..

YANDERE!JADE, Jade found it rather interesting, he used to never have dreams.. really.. It was just a blur in his memories in the morning, he remembers his mother asking him at the breakfast table, about his dreams.. Floyd almost had something, rather concerning to say to his mother, which they’d laugh off as something playful.. But when it came around to him, he couldn’t answer, he remained quiet until the topic changed, simply flashing a smile towards his mother, who probably was dissatisfied with her child's lack in enthusiasm about typical things, every child they had met was interested in trivial things, truly they had such out of the box, and unordinary children.. Not that they cared for it, Floyd filled in for jade’s lack of enthusiasm anyways. Where Floyd lacked, Jade could fill in the gaps, truly a pair of perfect, close knitted siblings… That night when he slept, he had a dream.. However it was odd.. For someone who barely dreamt, or couldn’t remember anything as if it was a blur in his memories, he remembered this one well, a weeping child, around his age, sitting in front of the TV, watching a rather unfamiliar horror show, that they obviously shouldn’t have, way beyond their bed time. That’s where it started, where he became so obviously drawn to you, and your presence, an amazing person and sweet person you were, you were very enthusiastic.. well at least in a more typical way, compared to his brother, he was drawn to you instantaneously… maybe he fell for you early on as well, he was contempt with watching you, and letting his childish love flourish, into something rather twisted and resentful, for as he grew, he began growing rather angry.. At the fact that you weren’t here, and that even in his dreams he couldn’t quite interact with you.. That was until he had finally met and saw you… at that moment the man felt an explainable amount of joy, his crooked smile, seemed much more genuine, and rather frightening.. As he watched you playfully prance around.. Oh if you knew just how twisted your life was about to become, you would have ran and hid… 

YANDERE!FLOYD, Floyd had dreams ever so often, they were quite obscene however, and rather creative.. They were very vivid as well.. And he was proud of them, he told his brother and mother in heavy detail about his dreams, and would love any surprised looks and glances he’d get from them, Jade’s smile would shake up a bit, while his brows would perk up, and eyes widen every so softly, he knew that expression way too well, Jade always seemed to be concerned for his safety and mental health while he expressed his stories and dreams with great excitement.. He loved and adored getting a reaction out of people, especially when it was one of fear.. Though that was something he gave up expecting from his family.. And then he had a dream.. A dream of someone rather unfamiliar, a person.. They seemed soft, and kind…. Well he’d rather not go into detail.. At first Floyd would simply view you from afar, not that he couldn’t interact, he just didn’t mind watching you from a distance.. Until he finally did interact with you.. He scared you.. He put on his best act, and boy.. was your reaction scrumptious.. your unsolicited fear drove him wild.. He couldn’t help but crave more… so every now and then.. He’d disturb your peaceful self, in his dreams.. by scarring you.. It drove him really, to see you quiver in fear as you lost your composure.. And then suddenly you didn’t appear in his dreams anymore.. Something that greatly agitated the eel… and then he saw you on campus.. and as the two of you met eyes, he could see the color drain from your face, and Floyd grinned.. “Heya shrimpy”.. Floyd, wouldn’t take well, when he found out his little’ shrimpy' had others, who have taken quite the interest towards them as well.. After all, you were his, long before you came here..

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior and or confirmation.

#twst #twst x reader #yandere twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst fanfic #twst angst #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #azul #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #floyd #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #jade x reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech #jade #twst x yuu #twst x y/n #twst x you #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland angst

[luciddaydreamsstuff]

Desert Duo Doodles! I am in way too many fandoms to count, including content creators and whatnot. It wasn’t until a doodle of some CCs that I realised how many were MCYTs. But I wanted to draw these two cause I liked how I drew Scar in the other original doodle and have drawn Grian a bunch but constantly changed the design. Now I have one that I like.

Under the cut are the individual drawings plus stickers that I forgot to add to the original but decided fuck it it’s done, plus some explanation about design choices and headcanons. (Does anyone even care about that?) Idk and idc, I’ll ramble anyways.

(you don’t have to read the stuff, I don’t really care, but you can if you want)

First off, this one was annoying since it was supposed to be a hug. I was too lazy to draw the Third/Sercet Life outfits, so they are in their default outfits with crowns representing the fact that they won at least one of the Life games.

Ramble: For Grian’s design, I wanted to keep the bird/avian hybrid but also reference other series or past friend. The Life series has the poppy has memorabilia, the blue and red bracelet represents YHS/TS, and the eye necklace is for Evo. The tail is more so a mix of Watcher magic and Avian DNA, bird feet cause why not. The wing ears are hidden to look similar enough to his regular hair, I like to imagine that wing ears are a rarer trait and to not draw too much attention, he would use Watcher magic to change the colour of the wing ears to match his hair. The freckles are based off of the idea that Angel Dust’s freckles are actually just eyes (which were shown in the show), and I liked that idea. He didn’t have freckles before Evo but after in Hermitcraft he did, they are just eyes that are always closed though he can see out of them. It’ll be clearer in the next piece, but his eyes are based off of some bird eyes so a black sclera with coloured pupils. Grian just hides his eyes under his hair since they are more sensitive than normal. Also I didn’t wanna draw his eyes cause it was one of the things I kept changing before.

I’ll go into Scar later since it’s just a half body but he goes by the same rule of his outfit showing where he’s been. So the poppy and lavender for Third Life and the heart necklace for Secret Life. The earrings are based off of the crystals from Season 7.

Alter Egos! Or at least Hot Guy and Arianna Griande. Not much here, but you can see what I meant with the eyes beforehand.

Also, I can’t be the only one to notice or at least point out that Ari and Cute Guy have like the same or a least a very similar colour palette of pink and white.

Final one, and the two are taking a much needed nap. This could take place anywhere though I like to imagine somewhere in Double Life or somewhere between Season 7 - 10

(also I find it very funny how close these two’s bases were for Season 6 - 10. both were near each other in the futuristic district of season six, then next door neighbours at the start of season seven, I don’t need to mention much besides boatem in season eight, again near the start and most of season nine with Scarland and Grian’s timejump build, then finally again in season ten with Magic Mountain. just funny to me for some reason)

Ramble: Scar is like a hybrid between an elf/fae creature and a cat centaur (that I cannot remember the proper name for). The cat half is based off of Jellie, RIP, and his body is scarred because well I mean the dude is accident-prone it’s bound to happen. I imagine that Scar would wear slightly baggy outfits, like they hang off just a bit to not hug his figure. His hair is more based off of Season 9 with him leaning into the whole elf aesthetic, and I both hate and like the hair but whatever. Idk, I kinda just wanted to make him centaur based cause that visual isn’t something I see often. I imagine that hind legs are weaker than the front so he would switch between a cane and a wheelchair that you would see for animals. I might draw that later idk, but yea

If you actually took the time to read this incoherent mess, idk comment a content creator you like, no matter how niche they may be

#digitalart #artists on tumblr #procreate #characterillustration #art #myartstyle #fan art #fanart #mcyt #mcyt fanart #mcytblr #mcytumblr #desert duo #third life #life series #secret life #grian #grian fanart #grianmc #grian minecraft #scarian #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #gtwscar #gtws fanart #hermitcraft #hermitblr #platonic or romantic #why do i procrastinate so much #too many tags

[kai-anderson-whore]

Your fucking perfect (Tate Langdon x curvy reader)

Warnings: feeling insecure about weight and relationship, tate comforting reader,self degrading ,crying

Taglist: @spill-the-t @iluwmycats @lili-tate @evanpeterswifeyy868 @jademunson @evanpetersfansblog @howtobesasha @lustforeverrrr @fand0mh03

A/n: as a fello curvy girl this made me cry writing this since I relate to this 😭 also I'm taking requests since I'm running out of ideas to write I have some things in the works but I don't know if I like them also on wattpad I'm writing alex turner things again idk why they were terrible since I was 15 and couldn't write for shit but oh well

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

You were stood infront of the mirror a towel wrapped securely around your frame as you examined yourself in the mirror, all those horrible thoughts you tried to Bury about yourself flooding back haunting you.

'Why is tate with me?' You thought 'he could have someone more skinner than me I'm not good enough for him' the tears slipping out your eyes as you just stared at the person you hated most right now yourself, your hands grabbing the chucks of flesh of your body wishing they would disappear, sucking your stomach in hoping it would stay like that.

"What are you doing?" You heard a familiar voice behind you ask seeing tate stood leaning againt the doorframe arms folded from the mirror, "erm nothing" you mumbled trying to wipe your stray tears away praying tate didn't catch on, "Hey were you crying what's wrong?" He went on to ask his face even softer arms unfolded reaching out to you, you shook your head dismissing it sitting on the edge of your bed in tates old room.

"It's silly tate I don't want to give you my silly problems" you chuckled trying your best to leave it at that, "y/n your my girlfriend your silly problems are my silly problems now what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" Tate whispered now sitting beside you, throwing on a old baggy hoodie you sighed before telling him, "that's the thing tate I'm not pretty it's beyond me that you think otherwise".

Tate stared at you with confusion and shock by what you just said to him, tate always thought you were pretty inside and out he didn't care about your flaws or insecurities he loves you for you, "where is this coming from?" He asked his arm over your shoulder pulling you closer to him, "I don't know where this is coming from tate but it's true I mean look at you and look at me you deserve someone skinny with a beautiful face a fucking model but your with me someone chubby good for no-" tate cut you off by pressing his soft cold lips on yours.

The tears still ran down your face as your responded to his kiss, his hand on your cheek wiping away your tears pulling away, "I'm not going to let you talk about yourself like that because you are beautiful y/n and if you think otherwise then that's beyond me" tate whispered against your lips.

"Tate" you sobbed quietly shaking your head in disagreement, "why are you even with me what do you see that I don't?" You asked pulling your head away from him, "well I don't see your weight to begin with I don't care about that, I see a beautiful girl who's smart, funny loves the same things I do, I see someone who loves me as much as I love them" tate said you let out a smile feeling those insecurities drift away slowly.

"I love you tate" you said a smile creeped on tates face his hand his on your cheek, "not as much as I love you y/n and remember your fucking perfect to me" he reminded like he always did a didn't go by where tate didn't say how much you meant to him, tate loves the bones off you and more you couldn't believe how you ended up with someone like tate so loving and caring saw the beauty in thing others couldn't.

Your eyes growing heavy from the crying tate took notice gesturing for you to lay down on the bed, "wanna take a nap?" Tate smiled thinking how cute you looked right now with tired eyes, "Yeah" you chuckled climbing into the bed resting your head on a pillow, "I'll be the big spoon" tate stated usually tate was the little spoon but tate also loves being the big spoon since he can hold you close to him like you were being protected from something.

Your eyes fluttering shut slumber drifting apon you "I love you tate" you sleepily whispered nuzzling closer to your boyfriend, "I love you too y/n" he whispered into your ear his head practically on top of yours his arm around your waist fingers intertwined as both of your feel into blissful slumber

#american horror story #evan peters #james patrick march #tate langdon #kit walker #ahs asylum #evan peters x reader #jimmy darling #kai anderson #kyle spencer #austin sommers #evan peters imagine #evan peters smut #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters icons #evan peters fluff #evan peters requests #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x you #evanpeters #evanpetersedit #ahs smut #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #ahs fanfic #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #ahs cult

[thissortofsorcery]

6. Coffee in bed

Babe, I wasn't put on earth to be brief, so. Hope you like this! Once again we hop on the Steve loving on Billy train. I had a lot of fun writing it.

I appreciate your prompt so much <3

-----

i want coffee >:((((

Is what Billy sends in the group chat in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday, fighting to keep his eyes open. He can't just give in and have a nap. He has a paper due next week, and Billy's never been the kind of person that believes in leaving things for the last minute, so he's got his laptop and his textbook and his notes from class spread around him on the bed, and he's going to get the bulk of this hell assignment done today. If he doesn't fall asleep.

Billy would get up and get coffee for himself, except he's very comfortable and he just found a nice position for his back. He doesn't want to get up.

Heather: i remember seeing a coffee maker in your kitchen

Heather: you could use that

Billy: don't wanna get up tho

Chrissy: are you about to fall asleep?

Billy: might be

Chrissy: I can call you in 30 mins if you want to nap

Billy: no im gonna fight it

Tommy: just take the nap dude

Heather: the coffee is 10 feet and 5 minutes away

Steve: did you eat?

Confusion pulls Billy's eyebrows together, and he waits for another text to come elaborating the question, but nothing does. In fact, the whole group chat stalls.

Billy: not yet

And Steve sends him a thumbs up. 

Billy rolls his eyes, and tosses his phone to the side. Steve makes no damn sense, sometimes. He's got this whole pretty boy, midwestern nice guy going for him, which Billy has to admit is charming as hell, and a line of chicks wanting to date him, but he never wants to date any of them. Billy is relieved, a little bit. If he had to watch Steve fall in love with someone while sharing an apartment with him, he'd lose his fucking mind, on account of the huge crush Billy's had on him since freshman year.

He really should get back to his paper, or he's gonna be stuck working on it until late.

Billy rubs his eyes blearily and turns his music a little louder, puts Kill 'Em All on loop because it never fails to fire him up. The guitar notes fill the room and make his eyelids feel a little lighter, make his limbs feel a little looser, and Billy jiggles his feet to the beat of the song while he takes notes on the library book he's reading. He can already imagine some of the paragraphs he wants to write in his head.

About an hour later, Billy's managed to outline some of his topics, but his eyelids are getting heavy again. His body feels like it's sinking into the bed, and all he wants is to burrow into his hoodie and curl up into a ball. Billy yawns and covers his face, letting out a long groan. Maybe he can close his eyes for five minutes. 

The sound of keys jingling on the front door of the apartment jerk him awake, and he opens his eyes like he's been hit over the head.

"Billy?" Steve's voice sounds from the living room. There's some shuffling, then Steve's head pops in his open door. "Hey."

Billy squints at Steve, takes in his swept up hair, the jacket he hasn't bothered to take off, and the soft smile spreading on his face as he looks at Billy, eyes shining, looking awfully fond in a way that makes Billy's chest hurt.

"You fell asleep," He says, and his voice is fond too.

"I didn't."

"You so did," Steve laughs, and comes into the room. He's wearing socks, because he hates shoes indoors, and he pushes something at Billy when he reaches his side. "Brought you coffee. And uh, a sandwich, cause you said you didn't eat."

Billy blinks at the to-go cup in Steve's right hand, trying to figure out if he's still dreaming, still caught in the haze of his subconscious fed by wishful thinking, because he can't imagine why Steve would stop to buy him coffee on his way back home. 

"You what?" It comes out sharp, meaner than he'd meant to, and Billy immediately cringes.

But Steve just laughs.

"Jesus, you're grumpy," He shakes the coffee cup at Billy. "You have that paper due monday, and you're gonna be bitchy all day tomorrow if you don't do anything for it today. Drink your coffee."

Billy's mouth falls open, and he can only listen to Steve's words repeating themselves in his mind while he traces Steve's features with his eyes – the playful angle of his eyebrows, the endless brown in his eyes, fixed on Billy, how his mouth curves softly upwards, deliciously red. He's wide awake, now.

Billy feels himself being pulled upwards by invisible strings, unable to look away from Steve. He gets his knees under himself and straightens up, hands stretched out, finding the perfect angle of Steve's jaw, thumbs nestled in the hollow of his cheeks. Steve's smile has given way to shock, and Billy would have pulled back if Steve hadn't swayed into him, eyelids fluttering, breath stuttering, eyes jumping between Billy's eyes and his mouth.

When their lips meet it's sweet, it's tender, it's more than Billy thought it could be, because Steve sighs into the kiss like he's relieved, sucks on Billy's lips like he's hungry, molds his body to Billy's like he never wants to feel cold air between their bodies again. Billy welcomes Steve's tongue like a cool drink, like fresh water, begs for more of it when it retreats. Billy can't get enough of it, can't get enough of him, not now that he has it.

Steve presses more sweet kisses on his lips once the first one breaks, like he can't bear for it to end, and Billy revels in it, on the soft, fluttering feeling they ignite in his chest. Steve's kissing him like he's something to be savored, a delight to be enjoyed carefully and slowly and patiently. It makes Billy's breath catch in his chest, and he wants to hold on to Steve, to clutch him tightly.

It ends with Steve's nose stroking along Billy's cheek, sending shivers down Billy's spine. He's clinging to Steve with his hands in Steve's hair, taking deep breaths under the guise of slowing his breathing down, but really he's taking in Steve's smell, the warm, woodsy tones of him under the apple scent of his shampoo. 

"Hey," Steve murmurs against his skin. Billy's grip on him tightens, and Steve kisses his cheek, maybe to assure him that what's coming isn't bad. "Your coffee's going cold."

It startles a laugh out of Billy. He'd forgotten about the coffee.

He pulls back just enough so Steve can disentangle his arm and hand Billy the cup, and when he takes a sip, it's on the hotter end of warm. 

"It's good," Billy says, and the smile Steve gives him is wide and toothy.

"I, uh…" Steve fumbles to put the sandwich bag he was still holding on Billy's bedside table, then settles a hand on Billy's waist. It's the first touch of Steve's hands on him, and it burns deliciously. "I should– let you get back to your paper."

Steve ducks his head, hair flopping into his eyes, suddenly looking shy. Like he's not sure Billy wants him to stick around.

Billy sets the coffee cup aside. He winds his arms around Steve's waist, draws him close, so he has no doubt of where Billy wants him to go.

"Screw the paper," Billy says, and Steve stares at him with his mouth open. "Come here."

And Steve kisses him.

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send me a number from this list of soft prompts

#sorcery asks #anonymous #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #sorcery writes #mine

[echo-rambles]

love don't know how to rest

words: 2,679 summary: a quick phone call with your boyfriend chan turns into a mini vent session. tags: swearing, established relationship, long distance relationship, minor argument, fluff, making up note: this started off as me clowning on chan's new hair because as much as I love him I was not a fan of it when I initially saw it. somehow it turned into a weird little vent thing about missing someone and wishing they'd take better care of themselves. (title from how to rest by the crane wives)

-o0o-

“Hey baby.” You immediately greet, answering your phone and then propping it up so your hands are free. 

Chan's face takes up the majority of the screen, and you get a close up of his forehead before he also seems to settle his phone somewhere. He hums in acknowledgment. 

You know for a fact he’s not trying to be rude, so you don’t worry too much about his non-greeting. Quickly looking at the time and doing the math, you speak up again. “Good morning. Have you just woken up?” It would be about 8am in Korea right now. 

“Hi- sorry I meant to say hi when you did.” It’s ok, you mumble, moving about the kitchen as you continue to make yourself dinner. Chan had messaged you only a few minutes ago, asking if you were busy and if he could call through. It wasn’t a very complicated dinner, mostly just heating up leftovers on the stove, so of course you told him to call. “I’ve been up since… six? Five maybe.” 

“Chan.” You chastise gently. Sending him a little look from your spot at the stove. He ducks his head, already giving you one of his smiles that spell an apology. 

“I know. I just- my brain hasn’t been able to shut off. I’m making the most of it until I end up crashing in the middle of the day.” 

“Light schedule?” You ask, already assuming the answer since otherwise he wouldn’t be able to so readily nap mid day. Chan makes a little agreeable noise. “That's good. And hey, if you don’t sleep at some point I can always ask Seungmin to smother you until you pass out. Forced nap time.” 

“That’s so fucked up.” But it gets him to chuckle, and that’s really what matters. “He’d do it too.” 

“Of course he would; I asked. Hey, nice hat by the way.” You lean close to your phone, squinting at the beanie he’s wearing. 

It makes Chan groan and push the beanie over his eyes for a brief second. “I'm trying to hide my hair, since someone hates it.” 

“I never said I hate it!”

“…you said it reminded you of straw.” 

Ok, so maybe you absolutely said something like that when you first saw his hair. It sort of just tumbled out of your mouth. “Because they bleached it all wrong! They killed your hair, Christopher. I was shocked, and distraught.” 

Chan shifts his beanie around, laying his hand flat on his head but never once taking it off. “I thought it would’ve come out better. I’ve been wanting to dye it-”

“I know, baby.” The teasing slips away from your tone, replaced by something more gentle and understanding. “But you gotta let your hair heal first before you fuck with it. Maybe let it grow out and dye it dark the next time you can? And then, once it’s no longer damaged as hell, you can do something fun. Like pink?”

Chan’s nodding along to your words, clearly watching you shut off the stove and shove all of your food into a bowl. He smiles at your suggestion. “One day you’ll get your pink hair dreams.” 

“We can match! It'd be so much fun. I think the world needs Pink Chan more than ever, really.” 

He hums instead of playing into the banter, hand still on his head, and you know that no matter how much you apologize for your initial reaction or how many jokes you make, the thought that he did something you don’t like is going to eat him up. Sighing, you bring the phone close to your face. 

“I think you look gorgeous no matter what, you know that right? I’ll tell you every single day until you believe me. Even with straw hair.” You lower your voice, trying to sound as solemn and as serious as you can. “Even if you were bald.”

“Bald?” His face goes all scrunched as he laughs, tipping his head out of frame and pressing a hand over his eyes. 

“Yeah. Shave it all off. Start from scratch.” You bring the phone and your bowl over to the couch, settling in. “I’m sure there’d be girls who would go crazy for the shaved look.”

“Should I be worried that you’re making sure I look good for other girls?” 

“Hey, listen, this is your job, and part of my job as the world's greatest girlfriend is to make sure you’re marketable to your audience.”

He’s still smiling, all big and soft and it loosens the knot of guilt in your chest. 

After a few minutes of the both of you falling silent, you eating and Chan just watching you, you finally speak up again. “I’m sorry for saying that stuff about your hair. I didn’t mean to sound so… mean.” 

“I know. I appreciate the apology though.”

“I just worry. Which is a shit excuse but- I don’t want them ruining your hair. I need you to take care of yourself, because I’m not there to do it!” 

“I know-”

“You take care of the boys and I take care of you because you refuse to let them do it; that’s always been the deal, but I’m not there so now no one is taking care of you-” 

“Love,” he cuts you off. Voice firm and commanding. “It’s just hair.” It’s your turn to mumble out an I know. “It’ll grow back. It can be fixed. I’m ok.” 

“I just wish I was there.” 

The silence creeps in again, and your food is growing cold. Every day you miss him, and the feeling just continues to grow and grow and you’re so afraid that it’ll get so big that soon you won’t have room for anything else. You need him to be ok, because if he’s not then… you’re not really sure what you’d do. 

“We take care of each other, yeah?” Chan says, making you snap your attention back to your screen. He must have pulled his phone closer to his face, and if this were any other moment you’d take the opportunity to snap a picture of the angle he chose, but since you feel all cold and serious in the pit of your stomach you instead just nod at his words. 

“Yeah-” 

“I don’t want you to ever feel like this is a one way street. It’s not your job to take care of me.” 

“I definitely don’t get paid enough for it to be a job.” The pit isn’t too cold or serious for you to deny yourself mumbling out a little quip. 

“We choose to look out for each other, yeah? I take care of you too. Don’t forget that.” Your little comment makes him smile. Just a tick of his mouth, but his whole face softens and you wish you could touch him right now. 

You want to be in his arms. Face pressed to his neck, where you can feel his pulse against the highest point of your cheek and his hands spread across your back and anchoring you. Long distance sucks ass. 

“I won’t. But sometimes-” You stop yourself, chew at your bottom lip and aggressively spear your food with your fork. “I worry that you’re so busy taking care of everyone else that sometimes you forget about yourself.”

“I’m guessing this has gone way beyond your feelings about my hair.” Chan tries to joke, but there’s still that underlying tone of his. The special one that only he can really get. It works it’s way under your skin. 

For a brief moment you think about leaving it there. Changing the subject. This was meant to be a relaxing phone call during a moment Chan had to breathe. He has a break and he chose to call you and all of a sudden you're just sort of dumping out all of these thoughts onto him over room temperature leftovers. 

But then you remind yourself that this is Chan. He’ll know if you’re trying to bottle something away. He always does. You joke that you know him, that he’s like an open book to you. This isn’t a one way street. He knows you just as well. 

Fuck it. Rip the band-aid off. 

“You look stressed. Overworked. Like you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Oh wow, ok. Straight to the point.” 

“The only reason I know you’ve been eating is because Lino and Bin would probably force feed you before you ever went hungry. You just look exhausted and I know this is your job- I know you signed up for this. But it still breaks my heart sometimes when I can see you starting to strain under the pressure.” 

“I’m- I’m doing fine. It’s hard, yeah, but-”

“It’s worth it.” You finish his sentence, already knowing what he’s going to say because he always says the same thing. “I know. Why do you think it kills me that I can’t fucking be there? Because you work yourself to the bone and there’s no one around that’s willing to pull you away and force you to actually take care of yourself. The boys- I know they try, but they still see you as their leader. As their big brother. The things I do, the way I argue with you? No way they’d be willing to go that far. And I’m not trying to paint myself as this ultra special person but- jesus Chris, you can’t tell me that if, I don’t know; Felix tried to speak to you the way I do, you wouldn’t get upset.” 

Chan doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are big and liquid and he’s listening to every single word out of your mouth. When you say his name, directly ask him a question, he’s blinking. Thinking about it. “No, you’re right.” 

Finally, you place your bowl on the coffee table, feeling like you need to get up and move or else you’ll probably start crying or something equally as embarrassing. God, it’s like all of these pent up emotions have just decided to spill out. Things you didn’t even realize you were upset about until now.

“Your hair honestly means nothing in the grand scheme of things. It’s hair, like you said. But it was something for me to tease you about- something small that I was upset about that I could actually comment on, when really all I’ve wanted to do these last few weeks is scream at you to slow the fuck down. No- I know what you’re going to say and I’m not talking about the company schedules. That’s your job. I’m talking about all of the extra hours I know you’re pulling because nothing feels perfect enough. All of those hours where you’re meant to be relaxing but instead you just work more because you feel like if you stop you’ll stagnate.”

Leaning away from his phone, Chan takes a deep breath. Puffs out his cheeks for a moment before releasing it all and then dragging both hands over his face. The beanie gets dislodged, and you see a shock of pastel yelloworange. It’s not even that bad. It looks cute on him. But it felt like some weird shock to your system when he showed it to you and you could tell he was unhappy with it. 

“What do you want me to say? It seems like you’ve covered all of the bases.” 

“I want-” You huff in frustration. “I don’t want you to say what you think I want to hear, ok? Never. We don’t do that to each other. I just want-” Again, you cut yourself off, not actually sure what you want. Not sure what the entire fucking point of this little rant has been. 

You take your built up tension and you make good use of it. Bringing your bowl to the kitchen and beginning to clean up the dishes while you listen to the way Chan sighs into the silence. There really isn’t anything for him to say. 

You can hear the way he tries to start a sentence at least twice, and you know that he’s frustrated that he can’t fix whatever this is. But there’s nothing to fix because nothing’s broken. You’re just kind of at the end of your rope and you just want your boyfriend close. Shutting off the sink and picking up your phone, you try to give him something close to a reassuring smile.

“Listen, I think I figured out what I want.” He looks at you, jaw working and eyes shining and you want to take his face in your hands and kiss him stupid. But you can’t have that, not right now. So you’ll have to settle with second best. “We take care of each other, yeah, absolutely, but that means you have to take care of yourself when I’m not around to do it. Because I’m thousands of miles away. I know it’s a big ask but can you please do that… for me?” 

“Yeah… yeah, I can do that. I’m sorry I made you worry.” 

“Baby, I don’t need an apology. I just want you to be healthy.” You’re quiet for a beat, watching the way his eyes flick down and away from his phone before skipping back to you. “And also for your hair to look different.” 

“Wow.” It gets him to laugh. It feels like a small victory. 

“I’m nothing if not consistent. And hey, I’m sorry too. For just- whatever that was. It was unfair to unload it all when you’re probably minutes away from being busy again.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for. Like, I do get why you’re sorry but I’ll always choose to listen to your problems. Especially if they include me, that way we can figure out how to fix it.” His soft smile is back, crinkling his eyes and making your lungs weak. 

Humming, you finally finish putting all of the dishes away. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” 

“I love you the most.” 

“I’m pretty sure I loved you before I knew you.” Chan says, smile stretching wider as he tilts his head like an adorable fucking puppy. 

You smile back, and it feels like sugar fills your mouth. “Ooh, that’s a good one.” 

It’s the same little game you always play after any sort of tense conversation. Trying to one up the other and having to concede when they say something that legitimately makes you melt. It’s a reminder that things are hard but you get through it. 

Hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen counter, you sigh. It’s a little dramatic, infusing just enough theatrics to keep the levity of the conversation. “Sometimes it really sucks that we both believe in healthy communication. I wish we were the type of couple to ignore things until the feeling goes away but really it just festers until we can’t take it anymore.”

“I know, right. We’re just too good at being a couple. It’s kind of boring actually.”

“That’s what I’m saying! You should tell me to shut the fuck up more often and I’ll… I don’t know, accuse you of cheating?”

“With who?”

“Lino?”

“Wow. Shut the fuck up!” He manages to say, between his breathless laughter.

“Yeah! See, you’re getting the hang of it already.” 

Things might not be solved, like at all, but you feel a little lighter. You spend the next ten minutes joking with Chan, and things feel like they settle back to normal. You’ll probably have to have this conversation again, with less tension and frustration. But that’s for later. When he doesn’t look so tired and has a block of free time to actually talk about it in depth.

You’re going to see him, soon. You hold on to that knowledge as tightly as you can. You’ll be there, with him, able to touch him and kiss him and tell him that all you want is for him to be happy. Maybe you can have this conversation again, in person. Where you can hold hands and crawl into his lap. Soon.

#stray kids #skz #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #echo writes #this is incredibly self indulgent #also i make some assumptions on how chan feels/how things work #anyway here's more self insert fic from me #because chan has bewitched me and caused me to write self insert for the first time ever

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 17, "Get Up"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Already weakened from their fight with the duergar and subsequently Glut as well to protect Spaw’s circle, the party encounters their most monstrous enemy yet in the Underdark while they seek a place to rest. On their last legs and fighting for their lives, Áine reawakens an old power within herself to save them all at a cost. Astarion, mortally wounded and terrified for Áine, scraps with his allies as they try to help him. The group finds a safe spot to make camp and focus on recovering. An old acquaintance returns to Áine.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Graphic fantasy violence (appropriate for canon, but described in detail); blood; descriptions of pain and injury (seeing it on others and feeling it); grief; trauma and descriptions of trauma, panic, and anxiety responses; angst; comfort/hurt; close calls for canon characters; no one dies but I do love to toe that line, besties; suggestive dialogue and content; lightly proofread

Word Count: 9.3k

Listening to: Destroyer - Of Monsters and Men

“I knew that fucking mushroom was going to be trouble!”

“Seemed like a fun guy at first.”

“Karlach,” Wyll warned through a snicker at Gale’s joke, “he didn’t mean it.” More likely it was Wyll who didn’t mean what he was saying because Gale had gone all-in on that one.

Karlach was halfway between laughing and barbecuing their wizard. “Gods, I hate you both,” she seethed, her flames calming in time with her chuckling. “Affectionately.”

“Chk,” Lae’zel grumbled. “There is no overlap in love and rage.”

“There is when it comes to dealing with their puns, Lae,” Karlach noted, adjusting the straps of her pack. “Gods, I need a nap and away from these two… Áine!” Up ahead, the bard paused and glanced over her shoulder at the tiefling barbarian. “How long until we camp?!”

“Soon,” Áine called back, taking stock of their party while she was half-turned. They were all tired and battered—the duergar had proven a tough fight, especially when their plan to take them by surprise had failed and one of the slavers had raised a small army of zombified corpses to fight on their behalf. Gale had helped to minimize the damage by destroying the rope ladders connecting the wooden platforms and funneling them into a singular nearby path, but they’d still taken a beating. 

And then there was Glut. They’d no sooner finished one fight before another was started and they’d had to kill the clanless myconid, who’d attacked them as soon as Áine refused to betray Spaw’s confidence.

They’d meant to take a more straightforward path back to Spaw’s circle, but the path had led them in a more roundabout route than intended and they were now more fatigued than ever. At least the path forward was clear—the Selûnite outpost was just up ahead and with a couple of short climbs, they’d be back near its crumbling walls and able to retrace their familiar path from its gates, back to their old camp.

“What do we think?” Áine asked no one in particular. “Keep going until we’re back to the circle?”

“The outpost is just there,” Shadowheart pointed out, unable to keep the wrinkle from her nose when she gazed upon the outpost again. Áine resisted rolling her eyes. “I don’t recall the circle being too far from where we ran into those minotaurs, do you?”

Áine shook her head. “Not too far, no. And we are likely the safest there while we recover.”

“It sounds as though our best option is to make our way back in full,” Halsin supplied, supportive of their conjectures in his reaffirming way. He cast a glance across the others, his features a little grave as he took in the smattering of split lips, bruises, and limps. “Anyone opposed?”

Silence stretched and Áine drew in a deep breath and nodded to herself. She looked to her side, meeting Astarion’s eyes as she said, “We keep moving then.” He nodded once, equally roughed up but ready to settle down somewhere he felt safe enough to meditate and heal. He walked along just behind Áine as she approached a rocky incline and said, “If anyone starts to feel otherwise, please say something, alright?”

There was a collective murmur of agreement as the group fell into step behind her. Áine set her jaw and prepared for her body to protest as she scaled the craggy outcrop. It echoed its ongoing soreness with renewed fervor, but she made it to the top just fine. Her shoulder was even cooperating for once and it made her a little more optimistic about their journey back.

She was so focused on assessing her condition that she didn’t notice the statue she’d risen beside until it nearly scared her out of her skin. Áine hopped back, prepared for a fight until she realized it was merely stone. On closer inspection, she saw that it was a life-sized statue of a drow in mercenary garb. 

On even closer inspection, she realized it had once been a drow. It wasn’t stone-carved, it was a petrified elf. “What in the Hells…,” she murmured, her fingertips tracing along its arm.

“A statue?” Gale asked, stepping to the other side of the petrified drow and lightly knocking against its shoulder. 

“Not always, I don’t think,” Áine murmured, her eyes shifting further down the path and seeing more of the same. She raised her voice slightly as she ordered the party, “On your guard.”

“Always,” Lae’zel murmured in confirmation, her hand resting against the hilt of her sword as her reptilian eyes traced the eerie plateau.

Áine neared another of the petrified drow mercenaries, noting that this one was unmasked. The look of unbridled terror on his face, frozen into eternity, sent a chill down her spine. There was no telling when this had happened exactly, but every survival instinct she had urged her not to linger. “Let’s hurry up t—”

She was cut off by an unnatural rumble through the ground beneath her feet. Áine steadied herself, glancing toward her friends also struggling to keep their footing. “Another bulette?” Wyll wondered aloud. It did seem the most likely based on their experiences so far, but Áine’s urge to hasten away intensified nonetheless.

“I don’t want to find out, let’s go,” Áine said, turning around to step back down to the plateau and get to the break in the outpost wall. She didn’t manage more than the turn before she looked up and saw precisely what had created this purgatorial statue garden they stood amongst.

Spines rippling with every undulation of its ghastly tentacles, the monster that had upset the earth in its uprising lifted into the air and opened its singular, enormous yellow eye. Its pupil spasmed and adjusted, skittering between them for just seconds until its mouth opened on a scream, the expression splitting its nightmarish face in twain.

“RUN!” Karlach shouted, jarring them all from their varied states of panicked freezing. 

Bolts of light shot from the ends of the spectator’s appendages, barely missing Áine and Gale, but hitting Shadowheart and Halsin. The bolts paralyzed them, rooting them in place with only their eyes able to move. Any plan to retreat was shelved then and those still able to move turned to fight.

Gale was the quickest to react, unleashing a fireball at the creature and hitting it squarely in the eye. It screeched and flung an appendage at him, sending him sprawling against a nearby outcrop. He clutched his side, rivulets of blood weaving from beneath his hair and across his temple as he shot more fire at the creature. “Ardē!”

Arrows sliced the air from Astarion’s bow, finding purchase in the creature’s leathery skin and the jelly of its eye. Lae’zel surged forward, sword in hand, only pausing along the way to free Shadowheart from her paralysis. The cleric looked jarred but nodded to the githyanki in thanks as she quickly dredged up what healing magic she had left, spreading it across the group. 

After Halsin was also cured of his paralysis, Wyll concentrated his final dregs of power to unleash bolts of red eldrich energy upon the beast, unsheathing his rapier when he felt his strength draining from the effort to little avail. Nearby, Karlach screamed wrath into her veins, aflame as she took her battleaxe into the fray and hacked at one of the spectator’s tentacles.

Their confidence was momentary. Fleeting, even, as their preexisting injuries screamed back to life, worsened or accompanied by new ones with every bite, every hit, and every bolt the monster threw their way. They were reminded that they’d meant to retreat, only fighting out of necessity, when the spectator took a chunk from Halsin’s broad, blackened shoulder with its needly teeth and flung him into the dirt near Gale. 

The appendages ignited anew with bolts of what they first thought would be another paralysis spell but instead found purchase on the petrified drow. Reinvigorated from stasis, the mercenaries were propelled into the spectator’s defense and caught the party’s blades with their own. 

Astarion’s attention diverted to sinking arrows into the resurrected drow, finding his shots counting for more against the smaller enemies descending upon their companions. He was unloading an ice-imbued arrow into a mercenary nearing Áine’s flank when the spectator unleashed a new wave of paralysis that caught him in its turning tide. The arrow had found its target, loosed just before the light struck him. 

His crimson eyes froze wide as the spectator descended upon him, shredding his torso and right arm with its teeth. He was left unable to scream his agony as his blood poured from the gaping wounds, his undead body barred from beginning any sort of healing process until he could move again. 

Cold blood waterfalled from his slashes as the spectator ravaged their frozen, bloodied friends, only Karlach, Lae’zel, and Áine left mobile. He felt his body growing colder, his mind growing fuzzier and number, sending him back in time to when this was his normal state of mind, bloodless and barely alive. If he could have shuddered, his body would’ve made him. Instead, he remained frozen in time, his struggle against the enchantment rooting him in place weakening with every second he continued to bleed.

It occurred to him that only seconds had gone by, seconds that felt like eons, when he heard Áine scream his name. With effort, he focused on her. Unfortunately, so did their foe. As the creature turned on her, suddenly bleeding out in his paralysis wasn’t his worst fate. 

Watching this thing kill the woman he adored and being unable to save her was.

Áine had been working off adrenaline and horror ever since the monstrosity hovering over them had hurled Gale to the ground. Each time one of them was paralyzed, it was a race with just her battered legs and her swords to fend it off one of her defenseless friends before it killed them in their stasis. Suddenly it was just herself, Lae’zel, and Karlach left moving. The drow were all dispatched save two. Áine had rushed to help when she saw Karlach roll with one of the resurrected elves over the edge of their plateau and disappear, only stumbling to a stop when the one Lae’zel had been fighting threw the injured gith against a rock and came at her instead.

An arrow had sliced the air and punctured his side, a sweep of ice blossoming beneath the drow’s feet that immediately sent him down on his face. Áine’s mistake had been to assume that was enough in her desperation to get her blades back into the monster assaulting her friends, her vision tunneled into protecting her loved ones as she’d slid on the ice herself and fallen on the drow’s upturned blade. 

The possessed mercenary thrust up into her when she slipped and Áine gasped, muffling a low whine of pain as she stabbed her scimitar into his neck, effectively finishing him off. She looked down at the long, spindly dagger he’d plunged into her stomach and her fingers twitched, aching to pull it out despite knowing she shouldn’t. She felt a familiar tickle of drow poison spreading through her, but her resistance was such that pulling the dagger out and letting her wound bleed more freely was the larger danger. 

The keening of stripping metal and tearing of flesh broke her bemusement and she whirled, tracing the spectator and seeing amongst its multitudes of teeth—

“Astarion!”

Gods above, there was so much blood. All around her, but leaking without pause from his pale body, his armor shredded where he spurted red. This can’t be the end…

Her vision shifted as her wounds and her panic at seeing her lover and her friends so horrifically mangled sank into her mind. She didn’t see the spectator change course. She wasn’t even sure she would have cared if she had. Perhaps she would have felt relief that it turned its attention away from Astarion onto her. Maybe he could get away.

Áine’s eyes rose to meet the spectator’s gaze, her features taut with defiance as she stabbed both her scimitars into its dripping, lacerated sclera. It responded with an unearthly shriek and a hurl of its tentacles that slammed her like a ragdoll into a nearby stalagmite with a hard crack.

The scream in Astarion’s throat was half-loosed when the paralysis finally wore off, but the condition’s fade sent him immediately tumbling to the ground, into puddles of his own blood. Shaking, he raised himself on his elbows, his nails digging and scraping against the plateau gravel as he tried to drag himself forward. The sensation brutalized his mind with intrusive flashbacks—the scratching and clawing against a stone crypt lid, painstakingly picking dirt out of the ridges after seizing against the dungeon floor for hours after being whipped, beaten, and carved into. He ignored them, unwilling to let his last thoughts be those long wretched years. If anything would be his and his alone, it would be his death.

“No, you can’t die,” he gritted out, his voice barely managing above a murmur as he clawed the dirt in a daze, desperately trying to get to Áine. What would he even do when he got there? 

She was slumped in a heap on the ground next to the rock she’d hit, her shiny pearl locks bathed red and pooled around her face. A dagger he hadn’t even seen pierce her stomach was buried to the hilt and poked past her arm folded beside her. The spectator made a breathy noise that almost sounded like a laugh and the odious air flowing from its jaws stirred Áine’s hair. It was the only movement Astarion saw from her. 

He snarled, one of his palms slipping in blood and sending him to the ground again. “Get up, damn you!” he growled, but his voice cracked in desperation.

Áine, barely lucid, slowly tilted her head, looking through hair stained red at Astarion. Around them, the paralysis was slowly wearing off the few it affected, Shadowheart included, but the damage was so great and the situation so hopeless that the freed immediately collapsed beneath both. Áine’s vision blurred and she heard Astarion plead with her as if through a long, narrow hallway, his words clear but far away.

Subconsciously, she extended her arm, reaching for him despite knowing neither of them could make the crawl. She winced at the simple movement, her body rending around every injury. She could feel her pulse, an irregular burning around the dagger buried in her belly. Get up, she growled inwardly, her mind’s voice sounding a mix of hers, Astarion’s, and voices from her past, not all of them fond. 

Shaking, she withdrew her outstretched hand and planted it against the ground, her bicep straining as she tried to do as he asked. The hilt of the dagger clacked against the dirt, sending a new shock of pain through her body and she shuddered, a hiss escaping between clenched teeth. Áine managed to push herself up just enough to turn towards the lingering spectator, her body vibrating with the effort while her legs remained buckled beneath her. A cough wracked her body and a spatter of blood projected from her parted lips.

The spectator blinked slowly, its lids hitting the hilts of her blades still sheathed in its eye. It seemed undeterred, its gigantic, slobbering tongue slipping over the surface of its teeth as it stared at her and then began to advance again.

She heard her name croaked again from the vampire lying nearby, too weak to even sit up despite trying desperately to. She could hear his hands splashing against the gore he crawled through, too drained to find purchase on the slickened cave floor. 

Áine’s mind remained addled with her own urgent demands to her body, her memories surfacing in a mingling of voices. Astarion’s, Shadowheart’s, the illithids’, even her father’s. Was this what people meant when they spoke of one’s life flashing before their eyes? Was she dying? 

No. No, she wouldn’t die. None of them would. An old voice resonated in her, reminding her, and her mind traced the contours of that voice with recognition, finding within it a buried ancient power she’d long refused, ignored until it faded into ether and the bearer of that voice left her too. Áine, for the sake of her new family, would embrace them both now.

She shoved herself up once more on one shaking, bleeding arm and with the last of her might extended her other hand toward the looming creature, its bared teeth littered with scraps of their flesh and smears of their blood. Its maw split open, still hungry, still eager to strip every scrap of her skin, every ounce of her defiance off her bones. 

A deadly silence fell over them all until all that could be heard was the crackle of building power around Áine’s hand, a building flush of emerald light blaring from her fingertips and the slits of her half-hooded eyes as, in the quiet that also extinguished the vocal clamor in her mind, one final word caressed her conscience with a tone of recognition. 

“Oathbreaker.”

The crack that split the air was deafening and, for a second, scattered conscious members of the party feared that Gale’s orb had detonated. A blinding, sickly green light erupted from Áine’s hand. When the light cleared, the spectator lay in steaming slices of viscera across the cavern floor. 

When the ringing in Astarion’s ears faded, he heard Áine collapse, unmoving against the rocks. No, was the only word he could think with any clarity and it grew repetitious and feral as his terror and fading condition mingled. No no no no no no no no no no no—

Something touched him and he snarled, swiping backward with one blood-covered hand. He heard Shadowheart mutter at him to stop moving as she dodged around him and turned him over to assess his damage while looking half-dead herself. 

“Don’t touch me!” Astarion hissed, attempting to shove her hands away from his destroyed armor but finding himself too weak to win the battle of wills. The realization just made him further lose his composure.

“Hold still!” she snapped, prying apart what she could of his scrapped armor to get at the deep wounds beneath. Shadowheart caught Astarion’s wrists, drawing another angry snarl from the vampire spawn fighting against her aid. “Wyll, help me!”

Wyll’s face appeared in Astarion’s vision and the Blade took hold of his wrists from Shadowheart, pinning his arms above his head and away from her work. Astarion’s anger bordered on panic. There were too many hands on him and he was too weak to rid himself of any of them. He hissed and growled, still struggling despite knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that they were trying to help him. All he could think of was getting them off him and Ái—

“Go help her,” Astarion gritted, snapping at Wyll’s arm when it came within reach. The Blade held fast, avoiding his fangs and maintaining his bruising hold on the vampire’s arms. Seething, Astarion shouted at Shadowheart, “Go to Áine and get off me!”

“You are dying, Astarion,” Shadowheart finally snapped, near-black bruises under her eyes as she forced her remaining magic through her fingertips as they pressed into his torso. 

“So is she,” he tried to snarl back, but the words came out with a panicked whine. He twisted desperately to try and see past Wyll to where Áine had collapsed. He got a vantage point just as Halsin and Lae’zel stooped to peel her limp body off the floor. “Bleeding Hells, Áine!”

“Halsin will help her until I can, but you’re in more dire shape than she is and she will never forgive either of us if you die,” Shadowheart gritted, finding Astarion even harder to hold in place now that he’d seen Áine. 

“I don’t care!” Astarion spat, his eyes rolling back in his head as his vision blurred sideways again. “I don’t care, just help her—please—”

Shadowheart felt panic lance through her as Astarion started to lose his focus. At least when he was fighting her, she knew he was lucid, but he was drifting again and she could only assume the worst. “Shit,” she snapped, holding his face as his head started to roll sideways. “Stay with me. Astarion!”

Wyll looked at her, panic in his eyes that only flared further when she pulled one of Astarion’s daggers from his belt. “What are you doing?”

“He needs blood,” Shadowheart said under her breath, her features contorted in pain from her own injuries. 

“Let me,” Wyll quickly said, holding out his hand. Astarion was half-conscious and had stilled his struggle in his delirium. “I’m in more of a condition to do so.”

Shadowheart hesitated, but he was right and they both knew it. She hesitated, handing him the dagger and switching her hands down to Astarion’s wrists. Wyll sliced his palm with a quick wince and held his dripping hand over Astarion’s mouth, squeezing the wound. There was a moment of uneasy stillness before Astarion’s entire body seized, almost succeeding in bucking Shadowheart off him as he lunged up toward the source of the blood. Wyll jolted but held his ground as Shadowheart wrestled the drained vampire back down onto his back. 

“That’s enough,” Shadowheart said as she saw Astarion’s pupils begin to react more normally when shadows passed over them. “That will help and we’ll still be able to cart him to wherever we set up if he fusses again.”

Wyll retracted his hand, starting to scout a makeshift bandage when he felt Shadowheart’s fingertips against his, a gentle light cascading from the touch to knit his cut closed. Wyll looked up, meeting Shadowheart’s tired but grateful gaze. “Thank you.”

Realizing they were lingering, the two quickly retracted their hands and set back to work on getting Astarion into a stable enough state to move him. Astarion had grown slightly more aware with some fresh blood returned to his system, but he felt dissociated from himself. When his eyes did wander, they tried to follow Halsin’s hulking form as he struggled to find Áine again. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way her head had lolled on her neck when they’d picked her up, not an ounce of fight left in her. Furthest from his mind at that moment was what she’d done to save them all. He didn’t care as long as it meant she’d saved herself, too.

It made very little sense to Áine, when she awoke, that she was still alive. It simply didn’t add up. Not the way she felt her eyes open in such a familiar corporeal sense, not the warm hands she felt resting against her stomach, and not the way her persistent, stubborn heart still thudded in her chest. 

But her eyes did open. So who was she to argue?

Past the fringe of her lashes, she saw a blur of dancing blue light, a shimmer of iridescent motes. When her amber eyes focused, she saw the bioluminescent spores for what they were, aglow as they wove in through the flap of her tent from outside. Their song thrummed gently against her aching head and seemed to settle among her bruises and cuts, their faint warmth second to the touch against her waist.

Gingerly, Áine turned her head to regard the cleric hunched over her. Shadowheart’s focus was solely on the wound she was pulling together in Áine’s gut, the dagger that had made it set aside near her medical pouch. The pouch was dotted with blood as if the dagger, coated in the substance, had been thrown down in a hurry. The shadows under the cleric’s eyes were nearly black against her ashen skin and while her hands appeared still against Áine’s flesh, she could feel the faint tremble in them through the wound they covered.

Áine tried to speak but found her throat dry as a bone. Shadowheart heard the little sound she made at least and her eyes flickered to the bard under her care. “Welcome back,” Shadowheart murmured, an attempt at humor.

“Did you have to revive me?” Áine asked, managing to find her voice this time but just barely.

“No,” Shadowheart said, the glow fading from her palms as she removed her hands to reveal a fresh scar where the drow’s dagger had run Áine through. “But it was close. Not just for you.”

“Is everyone—?”

“Don’t stress yourself and undo my work,” Shadowheart scolded Áine as she tried to sit up too quickly. “Everyone is alive. We’re back in the circle. We’re safe…” She gave Áine a peculiar look. “Thanks to you.”

Áine let out a shaky sigh of relief to hear the others were all alright. She parsed back through what she could remember before blacking out, but it was scattered. More vividly than what she’d done specifically, she remembered that whisper in her mind, the familiar gravelly voice as vivid in memory as in life. “Oathbreaker.” 

At least it had worked.

Áine glanced at Shadowheart’s imploring eyes, feeling bare under the other woman’s scrutiny. She focused on the shadows beneath her eyes again and the bruises and cuts she could see scattered across her uncovered skin. “You should rest, too,” she informed the cleric. When Shadowheart grimaced, Áine insisted, “Seriously. You’ve done more than enough. Take care of yourself for a while. Please?”

“Fine, fine,” Shadowheart mumbled, waving Áine off as she gathered her things back into her pouch. She plucked up the bloodied dagger with a sneer of resentment. “I’m going to rid us of this unless you want it for some reason.”

“I’ve had enough of it, thanks,” Áine murmured.

Shadowheart nodded but didn’t yet budge from Áine’s side. She broke her troubled silence just as Áine was about to insist again that she go get some rest. “You know… Whatever you were before we met, before you were a bard, it’s okay,” she said, catching Áine off-guard. “It won’t change anything, even if you feel it might.”

Áine frowned. “I’m not so sure.”

Shadowheart nodded, meeting Áine’s eyes. “I understand. And I can’t speak for everyone, of course. But I can relate in a way. I felt the same fear when I hadn’t yet told you I was a Sharran. And, for whatever that’s worth in relation to what you’re dealing with, that ended up okay.”

“It’s different. You’re not riddled with shame for it,” Áine said, trying to gentle her curt tone. “But I understand your meaning. And I’ll take it to heart.”

“That’s all I ask,” Shadowheart said, patting Áine’s hand. “That and for you to check on Astarion when you feel ready to get up and around again. Not that you wouldn’t regardless, but—”

“Is he alright?” Áine asked with renewed urgency. Memories of his torso slashed apart, his panicked frozen eyes, and how he’d tried to drag himself to her flashed through her mind.

“He is,” Shadowheart hastened to reassure her. “He wouldn’t be if you hadn’t done what you did. None of us would be, I don’t think. But he made it very difficult to save him and I’m worried I didn’t find all his injuries before he ran me off.”

“Ran you off?” Áine repeated.

“It took me and Wyll to stabilize him on that cliff so we could move him,” Shadowheart told her. “He was fighting us nearly the entire time and telling us not to touch him.” Áine’s heart stung. “And yelling at us to go help you instead. Then when we finally got back and I took you over from Halsin, we had to all but cram him into his tent for him to leave your side and actually rest. Succeeding that, he wouldn’t let anyone in to finish cleaning up his wounds and—”

Shadowheart was becoming more and more impassioned and blustering as she recounted it, only pausing when Áine rested her hand against the cleric’s arm. “I’ll go.” Shadowheart was frustrated and Áine could see it, but she only got this flustered when she was also worried.

“Right. Thank you,” Shadowheart said breathily through a sigh as she ran a hand across her forehead. Her palms and fingertips were speckled with blood she’d missed between patients and her nails were crusted with dirt and grime. She looked like she could pass out at any moment and it was finally that fatigue hitting that encouraged her to follow Áine’s advice. “I think I’ve said it before,” she said as she turned to leave, “but I can’t remember in my current headspace if I’ve said it aloud to you… I was wrong about him.”

Áine adjusted to her side so she could push herself into a seated position. “How so?”

“I told you a while back that I doubted his intentions with you,” Shadowheart explained. “And I still sort of did, even after he asked me about your shoulder. But I was wrong. He loves you. Dearly.”

Áine blushed and the color got mixed in with the bruises splotching her skin. “I wouldn’t go that far, but—”

“Oh, I would,” Shadowheart insisted. “You should see the way he looks at you, especially when he thinks no one’s paying him any mind. Then you wouldn’t be able to argue with me.”

“I’m sure I’d still find a way,” Áine mused, gathering her hair into a low side-ponytail and noting with some alarm how streaked with blood her hair was. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but she supposed she’d just forgotten both how much she’d bled and how much blood she’d fallen into in general during the fight.

“Hm. Probably,” Shadowheart hummed. “Take it easy tonight.”

“I will,” Áine assured her, watching her leave before slowly staggering to her feet. She ducked through her tent door as well, her eyes finding the cleric and watching her progress back to her tent. 

Shadowheart started to deviate toward Halsin, who was working on closing a wound on Gale’s scalp. She hesitated and glanced furtively back as she felt Áine’s eyes on her. Áine gave her a scolding look that put Shadowheart back on a path to her tent, not satisfied until the cleric was in her tent with the bit of canvas falling back into place behind her. 

Satisfied, Áine scoped out the camp, noting Halsin and Gale again but not resting until she also scoped out Wyll, Karlach, and Lae’zel. The last she’d seen of Karlach, the tiefling had been scrapping with one of the drow mercenaries and it had taken both of them over a ledge, but at a glance, she seemed the most intact of all of them. 

Wyll looked more or less just a bit bruised with a few treated cuts to his name and he was assisting Karlach in checking a wound on Lae’zel’s head. Lae’zel had only agreed to Karlach evaluating her wounds, as she saw a sister-in-arms in the tiefling and felt less scrutinized by a fellow warrior. However, Karlach couldn’t touch Lae’zel without setting the young githyanki ablaze, so Wyll was permitted to be Karlach’s hands, carefully moving Lae’zel’s bloodied hair so they could check the damage.

From Áine’s vantage point, they looked like they were doing well to take care of each other, which meant she could feel zero qualms about going to see Astarion and likely staying there for the rest of the night thereafter if he let her. They’d been cohabitating since he’d confided in her just a couple of nights back, but she’d never seen him in such a state of injury and figured there was a chance he preferred to weather those conditions alone. 

Meeting her comrades’ gazes as she passed them to get to his tent door, she exchanged smiles and reassuring looks with each, her heart full and her head light with relief that everyone, somehow against their odds, had survived another night. As put-together as she seemed on the surface though, her mind hadn’t stopped racing along with her heart since she remembered how badly wounded Astarion was before she fainted. Neither slowed until she was able to peek through the door of his tent and confirm he was inside, alive and in a deep reverie.

Áine held a hand against her aching heart, a sigh easing from her chest and relaxing her frame. He was okay.

Astarion lay on his bedroll, his fingers curled into small circles for his meditation and his skin littered with cuts and bruises. Shadows bloomed as dark as Shadowheart’s under his closed eyes, standing out against his porcelain pallor, dark petals against snow. He was without a shirt, either of his choosing or something Shadowheart and Wyll had managed to do when they’d fought to stabilize him. His pants remained but they were tattered from the battle, slashed through in several places. 

To Áine’s relief, the wounds she remembered pouring blood to stone looked well on their way to healing. His chest rose and fell with even breaths despite not needing to breathe. She was glad he did anyway—it reassured her in times like this.

Her gaze shifted down to a small bowl of water and a cloth near the bedroll, the bowl half spilled across the dirt beside it. A relic of Shadowheart’s scrap with him, she supposed. Áine shook her head as she carefully sank to her knees beside him and submerged the cloth in the lukewarm water, wringing it over the basin. Didn’t he understand that whatever vigil he may have kept in or outside her tent would have done her no good at all if it hindered his healing? 

She smirked softly as she supposed he probably hadn’t thought that far at all. He rarely could think more than two steps ahead into a plan at any given time.

Áine started with his arms, carefully wiping away the remnants of blood Shadowheart had been unable to get to and Astarion had likely left in favor of tending to his pain and exhaustion. She took her time to be thorough, humming the melody to “Lilac & Gooseberries” under her breath while she worked, musing over how she could change more of the lyrics to suit his fine qualities. When she felt a sliver of her bardic abilities touch upon the tune, she allowed them to flow in, giving the strokes she made with the cloth a touch of magic to help along his recovery.  

She sighed again, soft and more sad this time. My poor boy, she thought, locating his essential oils near one of the pillows she’d brought from her tent and adding a couple of drops to the basin before she began cleaning the blood from his chest and neck. He was okay and she knew that. He’d go hunt and be better in a day’s time and he was already most assuredly more healed up than she was. She just kept thinking back to the look on his face after she’d gone down, and kept hearing that crack in his voice as he’d begged her to get back up. 

It was possible, she thought while she featherlight cleansed his neck, face, and ears, that she may not have found it within herself to reawaken that old, unexplored power had she not felt compelled to push through for him. She was giving up before hearing his voice. She’d felt herself buckle, delirious with pain and fatigue, and flood with despair at seeing her friends so broken. At seeing him so broken, too. She’d started to lose hope.

A star in the Underdark, indeed, she thought, thinking she was perhaps still a little delirious with pain when she noted the sappiness of her own musings. She felt herself smile even though it aggravated the split in her lip. Áine drew her lower lip between her teeth, fidgeting with the healing cut while she moved on to Astarion’s hair, meticulously smoothing the red tints from his silver strands.

She didn’t notice he was conscious until a few minutes after he first opened his eyes, too focused on tending to his curls. When her eyes met his, she found them already on her bearing a mix of emotions, some of which she couldn’t quite translate. One almost looked like anger.

Áine’s lips curled in the beginnings of a smile that fell away when he suddenly bolted upright. They stared at each other—Astarion agitated and Áine bewildered—until Áine’s gaze once more traced the dark shadows beneath his scarlet eyes and held out her wrist. Astarion looked between her confused expression and the vein she offered him before scowling as if insulted and swatting her arm away. 

More flummoxed than before, Áine’s eyes narrowed and she parted her lips to speak, but he lunged forward and swallowed her words, his hand catching around the back of her neck as he angled her head and kissed her hard. She made a small noise of complaint against his lips, bracing her hands against his chest when he crowded her with his body. 

Regardless of his reasoning, Áine was uncomfortable and her wounds were aching as he pulled her closer and she slapped his cheek with as much force as he’d swatted her wrist away. It was enough to jar him and he withdrew, looking at her with shock that had mirrored hers just moments ago. 

“Cut it out,” Áine mumbled once her mouth was free, the split on her lower lip feeling like it might bleed again. “Astarion, stop,” she said emphatically when he yanked her closer by her belt, slapping his hands away from the buckle.

His eyes, somehow far away and yet present enough to react, flashed with hurt. “I…,” he faltered, his empty hands hovering with nothing to touch as he tried to reroute his reactions. “Darling, I’m sorry, I just need to be close to you.”

“Then come here and be close to me, my love,” Áine suggested simply and with a patience beyond her years. She guided him to her and folded him in her arms, one of her hands moving to cradle his face as he buried his head against her chest. “Is this better?”

“Yes,” he murmured almost too softly for her to hear. She felt his tears trickle over her hand before she heard them in his voice. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Áine felt her faint frustration with him melt away along with the presentation of his poor coping mechanisms that had caused it in the first place. “You didn’t.”

Astarion craned his head back to look at her, his ear still pressed to her heart. His eyes were rimmed in red. “But I almost did,” he argued in a whisper, a quiet crack in his voice.

“And I almost lost you,” Áine murmured, sniffing against her own tears that threatened to come. “But I didn’t. We didn’t. We’re both alive and on the mend.”

“I don’t think you understand, dearheart,” he said, clearly very shaken. “I can never feel like that again.”

Áine frowned, smoothing her thumb against his tear-dappled cheekbone. “We will,” she told him honestly, not liking it any more than he did. “Probably several times before this is over.”

“Well, that’s…,” he paused, drawing a shaking breath. “That’s shit.”

The bard offered him a smile dipped in nothing but understanding and sympathy. “That’s life.”

Astarion scoffed. “There has to be something I can do,” he seemed to muse exclusively to himself. “If at the source of the tadpoles’ creation, we can sort what controls the cult, the parasites, even the Absolute, too, then—”

“Astarion,” Áine admonished him, her tone flat and unyielding. He stopped and looked at her, his expression pleading. “Power doesn’t make you safe. In fact, it often does the opposite.”

“Darling, I need the means to protect you,” he murmured through clenched teeth as he sat up from her arms, his hands moving to cradle her face. “To protect myself, to protect both of us.”

“I don’t need protecting,” she told him, her hands resting over his and holding them to her cheeks. Áine turned her head just enough to kiss the inside of his wrist. “This is the risk we take in—,” she sighed, kicking her anxiety aside, “in loving each other. Especially in our present circumstances.”

“Well, I hate it,” he snapped, his tone severe even as he stroked her face as carefully as if she were made of glass. 

Áine raised a brow at him. A mostly teasing challenge. “You want out?”

“No!” Astarion muttered, tensing with embarrassment at how quickly he’d shot down the notion.

Áine tried to contain her smile but failed utterly. “Good. I don’t either.”

Astarion finally smiled a little and the sight eased the tightness in Áine’s chest. “Good,” he echoed. “May I kiss you now?”

“Depends why you want to,” Áine said. “Is it still old motions?”

“No,” he assured her, still occasionally blown away by how much of him she truly saw. It was becoming less jarring every time. “I just want to kiss you.”

“Then please do,” Áine said with a smile, giggling when her face was immediately peppered with kisses. He relished the sound of her delight before pressing his lips to hers again, his fearful urgency gone and replaced with a gentle savoring that did perfectly well to coax them both back into their bed for the remainder of their rest. 

Áine fell asleep in Astarion’s arms, a thing that was now common practice for them but felt much more significant and rare when they’d even for a moment questioned the possibility that they’d ever have this again. 

She woke to a faint tugging on her ponytail and when her eyes fluttered open, she saw the cloth she’d been using to clean the blood off Astarion being used to gently wipe down her hair. Áine watched him work for a moment, admiring his hands, before she traced the line of his arm up to his face. He briefly met her eyes to smile at her before he focused back on his task of painstakingly smoothing every reddened layer from her white locks. 

“Good ‘morning’,” he said, using the term loosely as it was just as dark outside as when they’d finally settled in. 

“Hello, love,” Áine mumbled, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. She noticed the water in the basin had darkened, which told her he’d managed to sort through more of her hair than she first realized. “How did you manage to do all this without waking me sooner?”

Astarion smirked. “Roguish stealth and dexterity, my dear,” he answered simply. “I’m afraid though that because of the oils you added to the basin last night, you’ll smell like me now.”

Áine laughed. “I probably already did.”

“Because you’re mine,” he grumbled as he leaned in to kiss her temple, reaching over her to wet the cloth again and wring it out. 

The bard smirked. “Am I now? And what am I to you exactly?”

She’d never seen Astarion get so immediately flustered. His hand froze against the basin and nearly caught the edge and knocked it sideways until he steadied himself. He cleared his throat so hard he had to turn into his sleeve to cough. Were he not low on blood, she was sure he’d be a cherry red. “Well, I…,” he mumbled, realizing she was waiting for an answer. Astarion made an impatient noise in his throat, “Oh I don’t know! But isn’t it nice? Not to know?”

Áine snorted. “Is it?” She hadn’t expected this response, but it was an interesting one.

Astarion groaned and gestured vaguely when words didn’t immediately come to him. “Well, you’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just one-night-it’s-better-to-forget,” he listed off, seeming to find it difficult to look her in the eyes lest she see the vulnerability there. As if she hadn’t seen it before. “But then… Whatever in the world could you be?”

“Is this a test?” Áine asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed loudly as he brought the cloth back to her hair, working on the last few streaks so he could have a secondary reason to not look at her expression. “Well, what would you call this?”

“You mean what would I call us?” Áine bartered.

Astarion bit down a small, schoolboyish smile. “I do still like the sound of that,” he mumbled. Áine melted a little. What a silly man this was. She leaned up and kissed him, a smile curling her lips as she felt him melt into her. When they parted, he tenderly added, “And I do rather like that, you know.”

Áine smiled. “I know,” she murmured, nuzzling his cheek. “I do, too.”

He hummed, ducking his head to brush noses with her. “Thank you, by the way,” he murmured. Before she could ask what for, he bridged the gap and told her, “For snapping me out of my habits. For not taking advantage. For being patient with me.”

Áine’s gaze softened. “No need to thank me,” she told him, her voice a gentle lull. “Thank you for telling me what you needed and letting me help.”

Astarion’s stare became unfathomable and it was mesmerizing for Áine to simply watch the way his features shifted. He swallowed, but the motion looked difficult. “No need to thank me, dearest,” he murmured finally, nodding a little to himself after as he reaffirmed that this was something he could do, something reasonably expected. Something healthy. Something real.

“I would call us partners, for what it’s worth,” Áine answered him at last as he set the cloth back in its bowl. “And I’d also call us late to breakfast based on that aroma coming in.”

Astarion smirked. “You’re late to breakfast, dear,” he corrected her as he rolled the word “partners” around in his mind, testing it against his tongue without moving his mouth. Equal standing, level field, two halves of a whole. He snorted softly as Áine got up to get ready to leave their tent. Cute. He wasn’t entirely sure whether the word crossed his mind in response to her answer or to just watching her get up and around, but he supposed either could’ve been the case.

The couple ducked out of their tent and Áine’s eyes went straight for the campfire, smiling when she saw their friends gathering around to eat yet another hearty meal Gale had somehow scraped together from their supply bags. She was about to apologize for their tardiness when she heard Astarion ask over her shoulder, “Who is that?”

Áine faltered and looked up at him, following his gaze toward where Withers was set up. Her stomach dropped, but she also wasn’t sure why she was surprised. She’d reawakened the dormant powers of her broken oath, why wouldn’t he show up again?

Standing adjacent to Withers was an ornate phantasm of a knight, fully ensconced in spotless bronze armor cloaked in blackened patina. Fierce, fiery eyes of vibrant orange glowed through the slits in the helmet, plumes of necrotic energy flaking from the orange aura to lick at his plating as he leaned against his enormous greatsword. His angry eyes were already resting on Áine by the time she registered his presence.

Astarion expected her to gawk at least, as he was. Or be perturbed by the intruder in their camp space, even if Withers for whatever reason didn’t seem to be. What he didn’t expect was what she actually said. 

“An old friend, I suppose,” Áine said, sounding more exasperated than appropriately horrified. It reminded him of how she’d reacted to Withers showing up in their camp as well, excluding when he’d intentionally or unintentionally jumpscared her of course. “I’ll be back in a moment or two.”

Her tone told him well enough that she wanted to speak to him alone, but he felt the urge to insist he accompany her as that innate protectiveness swelled in his chest. Ah how the tables have turned from the original “plan,” he mused, glancing down at her as she walked toward the knight. She was half the strange apparition’s size and yet strode with all the confidence of someone who towered three feet above him. Not for the first time, Astarion found his nerves easing a little at the sight and thinking, That’s my girl.

Áine drew in a deep breath as she crossed the thatch in the myconids’ circle, offering the knight a half-smile as she stopped in front of him. “Hello again,” she greeted him almost sheepishly.

“I have been waiting for you,” the knight informed her, the familiar voice stirring memories that brought her both pain and comfort. Gravelly and thickly accented, but shockingly kind. In more than a few ways, the strange soul who’d saved her in that first year of freedom. Until he’d realized she wanted nothing to do with the power her broken oath granted her and needed to make his way elsewhere to souls who needed his guidance more. At least, that’s what she’d assumed when one day she’d found him gone. “I felt your call rise again. Your broken chains echoed as they shuddered.”

She nodded slowly, still hesitant to accept this part of herself. It felt like a trap, retaining any remnant of her past and the creed that bound it. Even the shattered pieces. “I have people to protect now. I did it for them,” she said softly.

“A noble cause,” he acknowledged. “Just like the first time. I trust you still remember why you abandoned your oath?”

“Every moment of every hour,” Áine said, her throat tightening as her mind shoved the memories back down where she always held them fast. “I… I’ll never forget.”

“Good,” the knight decreed. “To know the reason for your fall, to remember it, is to know the shape of things to come. Your undoing should remain a source of comfort. For all oathbroken who have realized they are far better to choose their own path…but especially for you, Áine Ts’sambra.”

“Forgo my bloodname,” she ordered on a shaken breath. “My kin lie with my oath.”

“Your kin are alive and continue to spread their ill at Moonrise Towers under order of their master,” the knight said. “But you already suspected that.”

Áine’s blood ran cold. She had, but it was something different to hear it. She felt bile burn her throat as she asked with a forced even tone, “And my father?”

“Aye,” the knight confirmed, inclining his incorporeal armored head. “No less would be expected.”

She gave a flippant shrug of one shoulder. “I dunno. Rather hoped he might’ve died, I suppose.”

“Are you sure?” he challenged her.

“Are you suggesting I miss him?” she hissed in an effort to keep her voice low. “That I would ever forgive him?”

“No such thing,” the knight said. “But even now, the shadows gather around you. They have been with you since you ran. They sense the cracks in your armor and they yearn to be used. To be inflicted. Your power reawakens reborn. It is your path to pave, lass.”

Áine pursed her lips and glanced toward her feet. She knew what he implied. And he wasn’t wrong. While her fractured heart and broken mind reeled in terror at returning to those sickly lands knowing that the ones she’d fled still lived, some part of her looked upon this and saw opportunity. Closure. She’d always sworn to kill him, any of them, if they came after her, and some dark part of her welcomed that possibility as it drew ever closer.

“Will you be with us again now?” she asked, turning her gaze back up to his flame-made eyes. “Or is this just my ‘welcome back’ party?”

“You were not ready when first we met,” the knight said, his tone almost gentle. “You accepted this power out of fear of your family, out of fear of your weakness. You now know your way, but we reunite so I may show you how you might reach it if you have need of my teachings.”

Áine nodded. “Well, you are welcome in our camp, if you care for my permission,” she said, drawing a breath. “And I feel as if I owe you an apology. Not for resisting my power, but for how I treated you for most of our time together. I wasn’t myself.”

The knight actually chuckled. “You were young. Tortured. And too kind for your own good. Still seem to be.”

Áine smirked, a guilty press to her lips. “I suppose that’s something I’ll never shake.”

“See that you don’t,” the knight advised. “It is a rare thing and you possess the strength to protect that kindness rather than be taken advantage of for it.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Áine said, adjusting her ponytail and tracing her fingertips over the wet strands Astarion had cleansed the blood from just earlier. She glanced at Withers. “Hope you don’t mind a roommate.”

“Thou art as ever far too keen to seem amusing,” Withers informed her.

“Did you just say I’m not funny?” Áine balked. “You know what, nevermind. I’m done with both of you for a while.” When she turned to walk to the fire, the two strange figures exchanged a glance behind her back.

Áine joined Astarion’s side and served herself a bowl of porridge from the pot hanging over the fire, plunking a dab of honey into it from a jar nearby. She was surprised there was any left given how fond Halsin was of the stuff. As she stirred the honey into her breakfast, she cast another glance back at the stalwart knight. It was so strange to see him again, but also strangely reassuring. As frightening as it was for aspects of her past to be coming full circle, it felt overdue. She only hoped she proved herself in the end.

“Áine, did you hear me?”

“Hm? What?” she piped up, following the source of the voice back to Gale. “Sorry.”

“No need!” he hastened to say. “I was just curious about our, uh, new guest.”

“Do you know them? Or it?” Wyll pressed warily.

Áine deliberated for a moment before she shrugged and went back to eating her food, relaxing when she felt Astarion’s hand trace up her back. He was starting to get a little too attuned to when she was stressed. Or perhaps that was okay. Perhaps that was something she needed like he needed certain things from her. 

“Just another member of the ‘Undead Peepaw Corner’,” she said, speaking a little more loudly so she could be sure Withers would hear her. “He’s fine.”

The group shared glances, save for Karlach who was fully focused on shoveling her breakfast into her mouth. Lae’zel also seemed generally unbothered, her trust in Áine enough for her to not push further.

“There has to be more to it than that,” Wyll asserted, earning surprised glances from Shadowheart and Gale for the suspicion in his tone. 

Áine glanced at Wyll and set her spoon in her bowl to scratch the owlbear cub’s head when it ambled over to her side. “I mean, you’re welcome to go ask him yourself.”

Wyll glanced toward Withers and the knight before pulling a face and thinking better of striking up that particular conversation.

Next chapter: Chapter 18, "Bard Dance"

#angst with a happy ending #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #astarion acunin #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion romance #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate #baldurs gate iii #bg3 tav #tavstarion #unbound fic #spawn astarion

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Ok so I know Jason and the reader confessed their love in scruffy verse but after all that maybe he could ask her out on a nice date just with stuff they enjoyed when they were little

"I'm bored," Jason groused, sprawling across your bed.

"No shenanigans with the boys today?" you ask mildly, not looking up from your book.

"Yours are more fun," he pouted, picking up his battered teddy bear to fidget with. It was supposed to be a break from school. But Gotham being Gotham and Bruce being Bruce he'd hardly seen you. You were up with the chickens, sometimes even before Alfred and out cold asleep long before he got home from patrol.

He hated it. Even if he understood. But- that didn't mean he didn't worry. You were getting a cough now that the cold weather was setting in. And he knew you were tired. Years of malnutrition and medical neglect meant you'd probably never be very physically healthy. At least not without constantly being on top of eating well and sleeping enough... which you also didn't do.

"Jay I've got so much to do-"

"C'mon," he pleaded, giving you his biggest, saddest pound puppy eyes. "We can go skating? Or go see a movie?"

When you relent a little and close your book, Jason takes it gingerly and sets it aside, putting Scruffy in your lap where it had been. "Or I can make some hot chocolate and we can just cuddle for a while," he tries. Skating would be nice, but being out in the cold would probably make your cough worse. And a movie would be good but only if you could unwind enough to watch it and enjoy it.

"A nap sounds nice," you say after a long moment, turning your head to cough.

And Jason nods, smiling a little, "You really feel like shit, huh?"

"I'm just tired-"

"Yeah. And Joker just gave me a love tap," he said, frowning as he leaned forward to touch your forehead.

"Jason Peter."

But despite your protests, you lean into the touch and Jason shakes his head, "Nap it is," he decides for you. "Can you stay awake long enough for me to find some sweats?"

"Probably," you mumble, "Maybe."

And Jason doesn't need telling twice.

When he returns with his sweats, a glass of water, and some Tylenol, you look at him in askance.

"You're getting a fever," he explained, handing them to you. His suspicions are confirmed when you don't argue. "My poor baby," he hummed, taking the glass from you.

"I'll be fine. It's just sinus crud."

"Still," he said, settling you in his arms, satisfied when you snuggle closer. "You'll feel better with a nap and a good meal in you- if you feel up to it, we'll go get dinner. See if that one Barbeque place of 64th is still there."

"They have the best banana pudding."

"Remember that one waitress? Taffy? Did we ever figure out if that was her legal name?"

"She still works there, I think. Or at least she did when I went there for your birthday before-"

Jason kissed the top of your head and slid a hand up to rub the nape of your neck, just below your hairline, "You celebrated my birthday?"

"Every year," you murmur. "And I left you a notebook."

He stopped for a second, not sure what to say and kissed your head again, making a mental note to ask if Bruce had picked them up. For years, you'd passed notebooks back and forth. In the hall between classes, during classes while you sat next to each other. It was a running conversation. And somehow, without trying, you'd broken his heart in the sweetest way.

The whole time he'd been dead, he assumed life went on. Even for you. But it hadn't even as it had. You'd kept a space for him. And he hoped Bruce kept those fucking notebooks. He wanted to know about all the conversations you'd had without him.

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #scruffy!verse #ask answered #anon ask #minors dni

[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours | Chapter 16

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: It's Presley's turn to struggle, y'all. Angst, swearing, mentions of suicide, anxiety/trauma, marijuana usage

This is kind of a short chapter, sorry. The angst isn't quite over yet. Remember when you hate me that y'all asked for it lmao

Presley

Of all the weird ways I’ve fallen asleep, I’ve never done it like this.

Colson is still inside of me when we both drift off. I haven’t been sleeping and I know he hasn’t been either. Now that we both finally feel safe, our bodies are shutting down.

We nap on the floor for no more than twenty minutes before we stir and pull our exhausted bodies off the floor. We trudge up the stairs and after a quick stop in the bathroom to clean up, we both collapse into our bed, instantly gravitating towards one another. In seconds, we’re both asleep.

When I wake up again, it’s dark out and I’m disoriented. For a second, panic seizes my chest, but then I realize where I am. Colson is here in my arms, alive and breathing and okay. Megan is somewhere hopefully feeling like the miserable cunt she is while I lie here with my husband. She couldn’t win. I smile a little to myself. 

Colson stirs and I gently stroke his hair. “Hi baby,” I murmur after a few moments of letting him wake up. 

“Hi,” he croaks, sliding a hand down my waist. “What time is it?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” I admit, and I feel Colson smile against my shoulder. 

“Missed you,” he says, voice gruff with sleep. 

“Missed you, too,” I murmur, running my fingers through his hair. It’s greasy, but mine is, too. We both need some serious self-care. 

“Are you okay, baby?” Colson asks.

It’s such a loaded question that I almost want to laugh. Am I okay in general knowing my husband was on the verge of suicide? No. But am I okay right now, in this moment, in his arms, safe and alive in our bed? “Yes,” I say, because I am. We don’t need to figure everything out now. “You?”

“Yeah,” Colson sighs. “I’m okay.” He’s quiet for a moment. “You really went to her house, huh?”

I snicker softly. “I sure did. No one fucks with my man,” I tell him.

Colson chuckles. “I would’ve never let you do that–”

“Thus the reason I didn’t ask,” I say simply, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Fair,” he sighs. “Pres…”

“Hm?”

“I love you. So fucking much,” he murmurs, pulling me on top of him. “I’ll never leave you, baby. I’m sorry that I…that I was going to try.”

I blink against the threat of tears, but I don’t want to cry anymore. I’ve done enough of that. “I’ll never leave again,” I promise him. “I’m here to stay. If you still want me.”

“Presley,” Colson scoffs. “Of course I still want you. And if I’m a dick in the future–when I’m a dick in the future – I want you to leave and take time and space for yourself. What you did was not what caused me to make that decision. It was her. Okay?”

I’m quiet for a second. “Okay,” I say, hoping it’s convincing. Colson doesn’t push it and I’m grateful. Colson starts to pull away and I whimper, grabbing onto him. “Where are you going?”

“To take a shower. I smell like hospital,” he says. “Come with me?” His fingers find mine and squeeze and I instantly feel better. 

Colson leads the way into the bathroom and starts the shower. I pop two towels into the warmer and take a second to admire my husband as he leans over to feel the water. I scan over every tattoo, every ripple of muscle in his body. I don’t think I’ll be able to let him go anywhere for a while. I need him in my line of sight constantly. 

He looks at me over his shoulder and smiles tiredly. Standing up straight, he reaches for my hand and I take it, allowing him to help me into the shower. As we wash ourselves, I hope Colson takes my silence as exhaustion. In fact, we’re both silent until we’re done in the shower, and after drying off, we crawl back into bed. Colson wraps around me from behind and falls asleep almost instantly. 

I lie awake listening to his breathing, my eyes wide open. I think the shock is starting to wear off. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that if I hadn’t left, Colson wouldn’t have wanted to kill himself. And if Cash hadn’t shown up, he would’ve gone through with it. And no matter what anyone says, it would’ve been my fault. If I had been home, I could’ve prevented it. But no. I left my husband when he was at his lowest and ignored all his calls and messages. 

But now, I have to push it down. I can’t let Colson see how broken I am because he needs me right now. He needs me to help him heal. The very last thing he needs is for his wife to make this about herself. We’re supposed to be happy now. Everything worked out just fine. But I just don’t think it’s that easy for me.

Colson and I hole up in our house for a few days before our friends finally demand to see us. They never really got to talk to Colson after what happened and I know they all miss him. 

Colson and I are getting ready to go out to dinner. We haven’t been out since Megan made her allegations; Colson was too nervous to go out in public, which I understood. But now that the world seems to be on the right side, he feels ready. 

I, on the other hand, do not feel ready.

But I remind myself for the thousandth time that this is not about me. It’s about my husband.

So I put on a dress. I do my hair. I do my makeup. I put on heels. I paint on a smile so everyone thinks I’m fine. Eventually, I will be. I’ll get through this and eventually I’ll be so used to acting like I’m okay that I’ll actually convince myself.

Colson comes into the bathroom whistling and I jump a little. I glance at him and let out a silent breath when he doesn’t notice my jumpiness. I finish curling my hair while he goes to the bathroom, and when he’s done, he comes over and looks me over, head to toe. We haven’t had sex since the day he got home. I know he wants to, but I’ve come up with excuses. It’s not that I don’t want to fuck my husband. Of course I do. I just don’t trust my emotions not to spill over. 

“You look gorgeous,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. “You ready?”

“Ready!” I say, smiling sweetly at him. He smiles too, then tips my face toward his so he can kiss me. The kiss makes my knees feel a little weak. He pulls back and takes my hand, and we head out to meet our friends.

We’re going to one of our favorite restaurants. Their food is incredible and I should be excited, but I don’t have much of an appetite. Hopefully I’ll be able to force myself to eat. Colson parks his car and pulls out a joint, which instantly makes me feel relieved. I’ll just smoke and then I’ll be hungry. Perfect. I smoke maybe a little too much, but it’s a good excuse for why I’ll be so quiet tonight. 

Colson holds my hand as we walk from his parking spot to the restaurant, and the paparazzi are out in full swing. “MGK! MGK! How does it feel for everyone to see the real Megan Fox?” one of them asks, snapping pictures of us. I keep my head down.

Colson lets go of my hand and I panic for a moment, but then his arm is around my waist protectively. “I’m just glad everyone knows the truth. Have a good night,” Colson says, nodding at the cameras, and ushers me inside quickly.

My heart is pounding once we’re inside and Colson rubs my back. “You okay, baby? Sorry about that.”

I nod, smoothing my dress. “I’m fine. It’s just been a while since that’s happened,” I say. 

“I know,” Colson says with a sympathetic nod. He keeps hand on my back as the hostess guides us to where some of the others are already waiting. 

I’m a total zombie during greetings. Everything feels like a blur as Colson hugs our friends. I accept their hugs, too, with a polite smile. Olivia’s brow furrows as she pulls back from our hug, keeping her hands on my waist. “You okay?”

“Smoked a little too much,” I lie with a little wince, and Liv grins. 

“Been there,” she says with a giggle, letting me go. 

The amount of food we order is astounding. When appetizers arrive, it seems like we’ve ordered one of everything. I take enough food to not seem weird and I eat in silence. Luckily, everyone is so eager to talk to Colson that they don’t notice. 

By the time main courses come out, I don’t even have an ounce of an appetite. Colson glances over halfway through the meal when he realizes I’m not eating and his brow furrows. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m fine. Ate way too many appetizers,” I say with a little chuckle.

Colson accepts this and grins, pressing a kiss to my cheek before turning back to his conversation with Rook. I sigh and look down at my plate. I can only handle so much more of this, but I know Col will want dessert and maybe even after dinner drinks. The thought of having to be here that long makes me nauseous. Suddenly, it feels like eyes are on me, and when I look up, I see that Cash has his eyes locked on me, his expression suspicious. He narrows his eyes and my heart races. I shake my head at him as if to say what? He gives me a look that says be fucking for real and I roll my eyes, looking away. 

Soon, my phone buzzes in my purse and I remove it, opening the text from Cash. What’s wrong?

I roll my eyes and type back a quick response. Nothing. 

Don’t lie to me. Cash’s response is almost instant. Another one soon follows. Did you forget your my twin?

Your grammar sucks, I reply, but Cash isn’t having it.

So does your acting. Talk to me or I’ll make a scene.

I know you will, I text back in irritation. I lift my eyes to meet his and he stares right back. I shake my head subtly and send back another text. I’m on my period and it’s making me moody. Happy? The lie comes easily and I look up at my brother expectantly, one brow lifted. 

Cash grimaces at me and texts me once more, Gross.

You asked, I remind him, then put my phone away. 

Cash drops the issue, thankfully. I manage to keep it together for the rest of the outing but I’m relieved when we finally say our goodbyes. We get in the car and Colson is energized and happy, but I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. 

Colson chuckles. “You really did smoke too much earlier, huh?” he asks.

I chuckle half-heartedly and nod. “Yeah. I’m exhausted.” I close my eyes and lean my head on the window. Colson’s hand rests on my knee and my eyes sting with tears but I keep them closed. I cover his hand with my own and breathe. 

Colson doesn’t push me when we get home, but he decides to stay up. He tucks me into bed and gives me a kiss. “Hey. Rook’s going to come over and play some video games. Is that cool?”

“Of course!” I say, relieved. Rook will be a good distraction. Colson won’t come check on me, which is good, because I’m not sure how much longer I can hold in my tears. 

Colson kisses me once more. “Text me if you need anything. I love you,” he says.

“Love you, too,” I tell him. He smiles at me and leaves the room.

And now that I’m finally alone, I fall apart.

Taglist: @triplexdoublex@jaxbreaker@mgklove99xx@jinx-on-mars-19xx@iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker@anonymousme86@whiteleoqueen@feroniakutenpuu@hxllywoodwhxree

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