#idk. idk. i miss my dog so much it hurts but it would be much worse to see her now after how my ex treats her when im not there to stop it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedreamlessnights · 16 days

Note

Since requests are open, here's my suggestion: I recently revisited my old mythology book and found one of the myths about aphrodite bathing in a lake and blinds some pervs that sneaked up to watch her. Now, the reader might not have the powers of a goddess but you know what she does have? A dagger-happy vampire boyfriend more than willing to shank unwanted peeping toms (in his defense, he actually asked if he could be there, so no harm done here). Idk, I just like the idea of the reader having scary dog privileges and Astarion not minding looking menacing/scary while doing so

Thank you so, so much for this request, anon. It's an absolutely incredible concept, and it fits Astarion so well! I had such a fun time writing it, and I really hope you enjoy the result!

For Your Eyes Only

Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Content warnings: Mentions of brief, non-consensual voyeurism. Somewhat graphic violence, as well as mentions of blood, degrading terms, and the description of an injury and death. Explicit sexual content, including: oral sex (receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, blood drinking, and ear play. Tags: Takes place post-Cazador, some point in Act 3. Includes mild spoilers. Established relationship, a bit of emotional hurt/comfort, and tender smut.

Word Count: 5.8k

After the darkness and chill of the Shadowlands, the heat in the city feels suffocating.

You missed the warmth dearly back then, trudging through despair and gloom, thinking of nothing but the inevitable relief of the city. Your bones always ached something awful in that foul place, never warm enough to ward away the icy air. Now, though, it occurs to you that you hadn’t fully appreciated the cold when you had it.

The sun that streams down from the skies is blistering - scorching, even - and without reprieve or relief. Sweat courses down your neck, soaking the collar of your shirt. Your socks are damp inside your boots, and where the leather meets your calves, they’re chafing.

Gods, what you wouldn’t give for a bit of that chill again. Even with the achy bones.

What’s worse is the mud, somehow. One would think that Baldur’s Gate would be scarce on its share of the stuff, but it’s everywhere. Tracked up from Rivington, puddling in the streets, clinging to the bottom of boots.

Granted, your boots have seen more than their fair share of mud since the nautiloid: sticky, wet, warm. It’s seeped into socks and splattered across new armor, stained some of your favorite nightwear. Sometimes, when you’ve finally settled down for dinner, you’ve been able to taste it. No amount of scrubbing rids you of the earthy, bitter taste for long.

The mud in front of you is different, though. By all accounts, the heat should have baked everything at least somewhat dry, but this puddle remains. If it can even be called a puddle, really. The gloppy, wet mess looks more like a pond, and completely blocks the only path ahead. Even the edges of it remain entirely liquid. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’d just rained.

A quick glance at your map confirms what you’d feared; this is the only nearby route to your destination. You’re on the outskirts of the city. Rock walls line either side of the path, too steep to climb. You know for a fact that Shadowheart had recently used your last Potion of Flying. Either you lose hours of progress to get Gale from camp so you can cross, or you’ll have to proceed through this stupid pond.

Astarion watches you eye the mess with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “Oh, by all means, darling, you go first!” he exclaims, raising a brow. “It won’t be me jumping in that slop.”

Karlach frowns at the mud’s appearance, tapping the toe of her boot against the surface. It ripples at the movement, brown waves gently sloshing against the surface of the nearby stone. “Can’t be that deep, right?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. You’re aching for a stick or loose branch, something to measure it, but there’s nothing around. Just grass and stone, the scalding sun on the back of your neck, and the muddy pond directly in the middle of the path.

“I say we go back,” Shadowheart urges. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not keen on dirtying myself.”

“We’d have to backtrack through hours of traveling,” you point out. “There’s no other way forward. I’ve checked the map.”

“Fine,” she relents, crossing her arms across her chest. “You go first, and we’ll follow behind you. Once we’ve seen it’s safe, that is.”

And, hells, you do not want to step foot in there. Not one bit. Still, do you have much of a choice? Your feet are already aching from the day’s walk. It would be devastating to lose all your progress. So, no - you really don’t have a choice, not if you want to get those Netherstones and stop the Absolute in time. The quakes in the city have only been getting worse.

“Alright,” you finally reply, your voice stronger than you feel.

You step forward, pressing your right boot against the mud, then apply your weight. Your heel breaks the surface with a terrifying rush of movement, and your leg instantly slides down into the muck - much deeper than you’d thought, deeper than it should be. When your foot hits the bottom, sticky, cold mud splatters up, painting your shirt, neck, and parts of your face.

Suddenly, the day isn’t quite so warm.

When you finally muster the courage to look down, your right leg is submerged up to the knee, soaking through your trousers. You can practically hear the sick squelch of it making its way into your socks, squishing between your toes.

“Urgh,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose as you attempt to pull your leg up. “Disgusting.” But it won’t budge. In fact, your squirming seems to be making you sink down even further. You try to shift your weight, but your balance is uneven with one leg in and one leg out. You’re dangerously close to losing your footing, and every bit you struggle threatens to tilt you face-first into the makeshift mud pond. In a prime moment of idiocy, you plant your other foot in the mud for support, and find your bottom half completely unable to move.

“What a brilliant idea,” Shadowheart says. “Now you’re stuck.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart,” you grit out, sweat dripping down your neck as you attempt to twist yourself around. “I had no idea!”

Karlach steps behind you, laughing a little. “Come on. Up you go, soldier,” she says, leveraging her arms under yours and giving a quick tug. You’re expecting the mud to release you, but it doesn’t. Your legs don’t budge - not even an inch.

“What in the…?” she mutters, giving another pull. This one has more force behind it; when she tries to haul you up, white-hot pain sears up through your ribs, ripping an agonized cry from your lips. No matter how hard she yanks, the mud’s grip only tightens around you. It’s beginning to feel like you’re a brittle piece of rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “So, so, sorry!”

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, his voice suddenly sharp. “You’re hurting her! Put her down!”

“So she can get sucked further into the mud?” Shadowheart asks. Her voice is lined with fear now, which is scaring you more than anything else about this miserable situation. “We have to get her out!”

But it quickly becomes clear that no matter how hard Karlach pulls, it’s useless. Every yank is agony, and you only sink further and further. Tears stream down your cheeks from the pain, and your spine feels like it’s gained a good two inches from being stretched, but still nothing. No give at all.

Eventually, Karlach lets you go. Your body plops down in relief, but the mud is somehow deeper than it was before. It’s up to the bottom of your ribs now.

“Fuck me,” she pants, wiping her forehead. “What should we do?”

“How should I know?” Astarion’s face is drawn, more pallid than usual. His lips are pinched into a line. He should be telling you I told you so, making jokes - and you know he would be, if he were anything but absolutely terrified. Your panic is bad enough with the heaviness of the mud on your chest and lower body, but the look on his face? That tells you it’s even worse than it feels.

“Step back,” Shadowheart instructs quietly. “I have an idea.”

Once the two of them are out of the way, she steps forward. Stretching out her hands, she mutters an incantation into the air. In seconds, the slight chill of the mud surrounding you becomes sharp, painful ice that burns against every exposed inch of skin it touches. A very muddy shade of ice, but ice all the same.

Karlach’s axe crashes through the surface and it shatters, breaking around you. After another hit and a moment of digging, she finally has you out: freezing, still covered in mud, and very sore - but alive.

“Thank you,” you manage, choking out the words between your shivering.

“Never say I didn’t do anything for you,” Shadowheart says, smiling a little. She lets out a breath of relief, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Now. Turning around, are we?”

By the time you get back to camp, you’re the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been in your life. You’re wet and cold and exhausted, caked with dried mud that pulls at your skin when you move. It’s in your hair, on your face, and in your shoes, squelching with every step. The feeling makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Your ribs are sore and achy, and - on top of all of that - you’ve lost a good day’s worth of travel.

The only thing you want is to fall into Astarion’s arms, but he wrinkles his nose when you come near, holding out a finger to stop you. “Oh, no you don't,” he says. “Bath first. Then you can talk to me, darling.”

It seems no amount of persuasion is going to change his mind, so you head back to your tent and grab a number of supplies - soap, sponges, a towel, and a change of clothes. Your trusty knife for protection. The river is bound to be freezing, but it’s better than sponging yourself down and hoping for the best.

Thank the gods you’d found a decent pair of boots in an abandoned house today, because the ones that are currently plastered to your feet will take days to dry out, even in the hot sun. When you get to the nearby river, you don’t even bother to take them off before you plunge them into icy water, sufficiently drenching them until you can furiously loosen the mud enough to slip them off and toss them onto the riverbank.

The rest of your clothing gets the same treatment: the trousers which slowly pull away from your skin, the shirt that’s splattered with mud and covered in it up to the waist. Your hair will no doubt be a disaster, too.

You’re still sitting in the soaking-wet clothes when you hear the sound of a twig snapping behind you. Your hand instantly grabs for your knife, ready to throw it at whatever threat might be in the woods as your eyes sweep along the trees.

Nothing. You find nothing.

“Darling,” comes Astarion’s voice. He slips out from the shadows, immaculately clean, gazing down at the weapon in your hand with a lifted brow. “Planning to render me dead twice-over?”

“You scared the living hells out of me, Astarion!” you snap, sucking in a shaky breath. The blade drops from your loosened fingers, softly thumping against the dirt. “What are you doing out here?”

He steps closer, taking a seat on a nearby log. “You were taking ages to get clean,” he whines, sprawling out his legs in front of him. “And, unfortunately, our companions haven’t had an argument all night. How else am I meant to entertain myself? So here I am. Trudging through the woods for your company.”

“You could give me a warning next time,” you reply, still a little jarred. “I thought you were someone hoping to catch an eyeful.”

A smirk flickers across his lips. “Oh, but I am,” he says. “Do you mind terribly?”

Against your will, your cheeks heat, and his smile widens. “I don’t mind,” you say. “Not if you behave, that is. Hands to yourself.”

“I’ll be on my very best behavior,” he promises. Leaning forward, he prods your boots, wrinkling his nose at the sight. “Gods below. Those disgusting things should be burned.”

“I have an extra pair.” You move to tug your shirt off, but it’s clinging to you. “Gods damn that stupid mud pile. I should have asked Gale to use a cleaning spell.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion says. “He’s been sulking in his tent all evening. Apparently, being asked to blow yourself up by an old flame doesn’t do much in the way of socializing.”

The shirt finally pulls free, and it’s clear that your smallclothes have received the same treatment as the rest of your garments. Gods, you really should have asked for that cleaning spell. This mud is going to take ages to get out.

“Hand that here,” Astarion says, motioning for your shirt. You toss it to him, and he inspects it closely before setting aside.

“What?” you ask. “What were you looking for?”

“Oh, darling, nothing,” he says. “That’s my ‘to be burned’ pile. We’ll get you a new one.”

You’d argue, but you aren’t very attached to your current outfit - and besides, after weeks of trekking through wilderness and Shadowlands alike, it’s falling apart even without the mud.

“Do what you want with it,” you grumble, finally pulling off your smallclothes. “That shirt was barely surviving anyway.”

You glance over your shoulder and find him observing with a raised brow, slowly taking the sight of you in. You must look like a mess, but you’d never know it from the glint in the eye, or the complacent smile that plays upon his lips. Heat stirs low in your belly, simmering under your skin. Later, you tell yourself. When you aren’t covered in filth.

You lather up the soap on your sponge, scrubbing away the mud the best you can, but the damned stuff takes ages to get off. By the time you’re finally clean, the silvery moon is high in the sky, and your skin is beginning to prune.

Astarion makes a small comment or two, but mostly seems content to watch you in silence. His gaze burns over every inch of exposed skin, leaving phantom heat wherever it stalls. All you want is to get out of this damned river and touch him, but you’re determined to get every bit of the mud off before you do, and it’s taking much longer than you’d hoped.

When you’re finally presentable, you start on cleaning your filthy smallclothes. The soap is slippery, making it difficult to do much scrubbing, and the water alone is doing hardly anything.

Astarion watches you struggling, huffing as you nearly drop the soap bar in the river. After a moment, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Dearest, you do realize that it would be much easier if you-”

But his words suddenly cut off. His head snaps toward the woods, and every nerve in your body burns with fear. In the span of seconds, he’s lunged forward, grabbed your knife, and darted after the sound.

Not a moment later, there’s a loud crash - some form of impact as he tackles whatever it was that he heard. You instantly push yourself out of the water without thinking, numb, your heart pounding in your chest as you stumble into the forest after him. It only takes a few steps in before you see it: a man on the ground, Astarion’s knife to his throat.

Your stomach churns, and your skin prickles in the air’s chill. How much had he seen? How long had he been standing there?

Astarion is shouting something at him, and the stranger is struggling against his hold, but it’s useless. He’s a scrawny, weak little thing, no match for Astarion’s lithe, nimble strength. No amount of twisting or fighting dislodges Astarion’s grip. After a moment, he finally gives up, cackling like an old hag as his head plops down against the dirt.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now,” Astarion hisses, anger contorting his features.

In response, the man spits in his face. “She’s your bitch, is she?” he croaks. “You can take a turn after I’m done with her.”

Astarion snarls in response, gripping the man’s collar and pressing the blade deeper into the skin until it draws blood.

“Wait,” you call, stepping closer. “Don’t.”

Astarion blinks in disbelief, sitting up, careful to keep his weight on the stranger underneath. “My love, you can’t be serious,” he says. “You want to spare this-”

“Spare?” you echo, cutting off his words. “Who said anything about sparing him?”

Something glints in his gaze as he takes in your words. “Darling,” he drawls, his tone admirational. “By all means.”

He hands you the knife, and you kneel down next to him. It’s heavy in your hand, cold and smooth as you run your finger over the flat edge of the blade. You stare at the shimmer of it for a moment, entranced, somehow calm in the midst of this chaos. Then you slam the bottom of the hilt into the man’s nose.

There’s a sickening crunch before he screams, blood streaming over his mouth and spilling down his chin. Even after last night’s feeding, Astarion tenses up at the smell of it, but the curl of his lip tells you that he won’t be drinking from this piece of absolute refuse.

When the stranger reaches over and grabs at your arm, you almost don’t even realize - you’re so caught up in your own mind, in the weight of the knife in your hand. Then his nails dig into your skin, and everything hits you at once.

The freezing night air. The stinging, throbbing pain that flares through your skin as he claws at you, unable to do much more. The feel of Astarion’s hand, gentle but firm, prying the knife from your grip. It happens before you can even react - a swift slice of the blade, slitting the man’s throat. Dark blood, gushing from the wound and onto the dirt below.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing. Sharp but shallow, straining in your chest. Jagged air that flows in and out, but it does nothing to stop the increasing amount of black in your vision.

You’ve fought and killed more people than you can count so… why does this feel different? Why here, why now? You’ve nearly died before, so why does the scrape on your arm feel like it’s much more than that?

Then Astarion’s hands envelop your cheeks, blissfully cool, and the panic and pain seep out all at once.

“Darling,” he’s saying, half-breathless, “are you alright?”

You manage to nod, and some of the concern leaves his eyes. He runs his fingers over the scrape on your arm, and you wince. “We need to get you patched up,” he murmurs, his brows pinching together.

“Don’t take me to Shadowheart,” you choke out. She’s already done you enough favors, and you won’t be able to stand her disapproving gaze if you disturb her rest after today’s fiasco.

He huffs. “Stubborn little thing,” he mutters, but he doesn’t argue.

Instead, he heads back to your supplies by the river. When he returns, he wraps a towel over your shoulders, and it’s only then that you realize you’re naked. Completely, utterly naked. It had been bold of you to break that bastard’s nose in the nude, but… well, it hadn’t been your intention.

He’s dead now, though. He’ll never look at you again.

Astarion sweeps you up into his arms and carries you out of the woods along with your clean change of clothes, holding you tight against his chest and leaving your soiled clothing behind.

You can’t find it in you to care at the moment. You’ve scrounged up plenty of clothing along the journey; those torn, stained things won’t be missed. Not to mention, if you ever need more, Astarion will gladly steal you some new ones.

He takes you to your tent, and you’re grateful to see that everyone else has turned in for the night. Anyone awake to see you would inevitably have questions, and this only affirms your decision to avoid Shadowheart - if you woke her up to heal a minor scrape on your arm, she’d be seething.

And though she’d undoubtedly be sympathetic after hearing the cause, you don’t think you can muster up the words to tell her what’d happened.

After he’s carefully set you down on your bedroll, Astarion yanks the flap of your tent closed and reaches for your pack, digging through the contents until he’s found some bandages. His grip is gentle as he takes your arm and swipes some remnants of a healing potion over it. You’ve been through this dozens of times, but you can never seem to shake the urge to wince as it sets in - the potion stings just a bit before it soothes, a sharp tingling that fades into a sweet, balming relief.

You’ve calmed down some, warming up in your tent with him, but Astarion’s hands are shaking as he wraps the wound. His brows are pinched together, his swallows are thick and strained, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes, even when he’s done bandaging you up.

“Astarion,” you murmur. “He’s dead.”

He stills in place, jaw clenching as he inhales sharply, still not meeting your gaze. Instead, he glowers down at the tent’s floor, his hands balling into fists. “He deserved so much worse than that,” he snaps.

You don’t argue with him. Instead, you let him fuss over you, taking the time to smooth through your wet hair, plucking out remaining leaves and twigs from the woods. He gets you into a warm, fluffy robe - only the gods know where he’d managed to find something like that - then pulls you close, his thumb stroking over your cheek. You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, listening to the soft sounds of his body working under his skin. No heartbeat, of course, just the quiet churn of his movements, the rise and fall of his ribs that’s become habit to him.

After a moment, he takes your face in his hands, just as he had in the woods - but when you meet his gaze, there’s a sharp intensity in his eyes rather than fear. He takes you in little by little, tilting your head up to brush his fingers over the fading marks on your neck.

Then he leans in, and you catch the smell of him you know so well, lingering on his skin like soap. Bergamot, rosemary, brandy. It’s what you associate most with him, that sweet, sharp scent that bathes over you. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is rough and desperate, heated and aching. His fangs scrape over your lip, grazing the delicate skin but not breaking it. His tongue slides into your mouth, and his hand returns to the back of your neck, tightening his grip.

One of your hands fix into his shirt as you lean into him, nipping at his lip. You shift your free hand up into his hair, tousling through the soft, silky curls before gently tugging. He groans and pulls you closer, and - gods, it’s incredible. Warmth drags down your spine like a hot coal, searing and addictive. You squirm a little in his grasp, shifting until you’re straddling his hips, and he pulls away to kiss down your jaw, murmuring soft words into the skin.

When he gets to your chest, you let him untie the robe and spread his hands underneath, peeling the fabric off your shoulders, fingers slowly warming as they trail down your back. His hands settle on your waist as he kisses you again, mouth soft against yours.

Gods, you need him. You’re already soaked, and he’s barely even touched you.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his movements growing desperate, his breathing labored. You grind your hips against him and he lets out a strained noise against your lips, shuddering. He pulls away, examining your expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

The movement is tender and incredibly sweet, but you’re hardly patient. You’ve been wanting him ever since he sat on that log in the forest, gaze roaming over every inch of you. You let out a soft whine, attempting to tug off his shirt. He does absolutely nothing to help you.

“Astarion,” you breathe. “Please.”

“Hm? Did you want something, darling?” he asks, the desire in his voice betraying his otherwise casual tone.

“I want you,” you tell him, rolling your hips again in search of the friction you so desperately need. “Please. I want you.”

“Easy, love. You have me,” he replies, brushing his thumb against your lips. Your heart swells with a fondness that would threaten to make you cry if you weren’t so ridiculously needy.

And finally, thank the gods, he takes off his godsdamned shirt.

You run a hand up his shoulder, then into his hair. You’d once thought that he was using a special shampoo - his hair was so soft, it seemed the only explanation. Then you’d seen him with the same shampoo you were using, and you’d practically wept with envy over his ridiculously perfect genes. Even now, as you run your hands through the silk-soft curls, you don’t understand it.

Then you trace up the line of his ear, and he shudders, leaning into your touch. When you gently massage the tip of his helix, he lets out a soft, seeking noise and his eyes flutter shut. Hells, you swear that you can feel him growing even harder beneath you. Another roll of your hips and his eyes slowly open again, half-lidded and glazed with desire. His hands firmly grip your waist, and there’s the briefest sensation of falling as he rolls you back onto your bedroll, tucking the pillow under your head.

He kisses along your clavicle, nosing down your ribs, humming against your skin. Feather-light brushes of his lips meet your ribs, then your breast, pausing to swipe his tongue over your nipple before he proceeds downward. When he arrives at your navel, your legs automatically spread open for him, and he lets out a hum of approval. He takes a leg in his hand and kisses up the thigh, warm, sharp kisses that trail up to the place you want him most.

He starts off slowly - a long lick over your clit, a quick swipe of his tongue before he settles between your legs, propping your thigh over his shoulder and starting a maddening rhythm. After all this time, you really should know how much pleasure to expect - but after everything, after his confession in the Shadowlands and the fear with Cazador, this still feels… new.

And Astarion is very, very good at what he does. He seems to know exactly what you want before you do, before your mind can put it into tangible thought, and before your body can even search for it. He works a finger into you, then two, and you’re left gasping and squirming as he sets an agonizingly slow pace. After a moment, he speeds up, just where you want him, perfect, perfect-

And then he pulls away, and the look on his face practically shouts that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Of course he does. He’s always been a tease. His fingers continue their work, languidly dragging in and out of you as he speaks.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “back at the river, this was all I could think about. Getting my mouth on you. Watching you come apart piece by piece.”

Gods, he’s been direct before, but never that direct. Frankly, you’re surprised you don’t come then and there. Instead, you clench hard around his fingers and whimper, rolling your hips in time with his movements.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to coax your mind into forming a coherent reply. “Gods, Astarion.”

He hums in response, flashing you a wicked grin. “That’s it, darling,” he encourages, shifting his fingers until they’re brushing against a spot that makes your vision black out. “Say my name. Let everyone hear you.”

You manage a laugh that quickly fades into a soft moan. “The entire camp will kill me if I wake them up.”

He nips at your thigh. “Let them try,” he muses. “They’ll have to get through me.”

He lowers his mouth between your legs again, and your head falls back against the pillow. It’s an embarrassingly short time before your muscles start to tense up, wiring you with pleasure from head to toe. One of your hands fixes in his hair, pulling tightly as white-hot pleasure sparks through your abdomen, and oh, gods, you’re coming-

Your vision cuts out again. Your mind fuzzes over, drunk with pleasure, leaving you shuddering, clenching around his fingers, moaning into your free hand.

You know he’d prefer to hear you, but if you actually disturb any of the others, you’ll die of embarrassment. One day, the two of you will have your own house with a real bed, and you’ll be as loud as you want. For now, you muffle your cries into your fingers and tremble through your climax.

Your body floats weightlessly for a moment in what must be Elysium, until you finally rejoin yourself and find your limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Astarion huffs, placing a final kiss on you until he crawls upward, kissing up your chest again.

He’s still holding himself back - you can see it in the way he moves, in the tension of his muscles and the coil of his shoulders. There’s a fire in his eyes, a hunger that you recognize so well. When he reaches your neck, you instinctively tilt your head, allowing him access to his usual spot.

For a moment, he hesitates, his warm breath fanning over the skin as your pulse hammers in your throat. Then he groans, grinding himself into your leg as he bites down, chasing his pleasure against your thigh as your blood spills into his mouth.

You know this routine so very well by now. The sting of the bite, and the numbness that follows. The ebb and flow of your blood, filling his mouth. The slight dizziness that comes before he pulls away, swiping his tongue over the bite for one final taste.

“Gods,” he pants, gripping your shoulder. Then, to your utter disappointment and confusion, he pulls away. “Wait here, my sweet. I need to - I’ll be right back. I promise.”

And before you can protest, he’s scrambling out the tent. For a long, numb moment, you stare at the tent opening, wondering if you’re dreaming. The silence of the tent grates on your ears, echoing the sound of your breathing until you can barely stand it. Then he’s pushing inside again, a scroll in hand as he closes the tent.

“Do I want to know what that is?” you ask.

“A scroll of Silence, darling. I’ve been saving it.” He flashes you a grin, murmuring the incantation as the scroll shimmers in his hand. Pure Weave, confined into parchment.

You don’t hear the spell take effect, but you feel it. It’s a thickness in the air, a heaviness in your movements.

Astarion doesn’t waste another second. He pushes up to kiss you, and it’s messy - your tongue against his, the sting of sharp teeth, your hand in his hair and his hand on the nape of your neck. There’s the taste of metal and herbs: your blood mixed with the remnants of a healing potion. He spreads your legs with his knee, then sits back on his heels and reaches down to undo his trousers.

You study him for a moment. The crease of his brow. The alabaster of his skin, sculpted out like a statue from marble.

If you were an artist, you’d make him your life’s work. You’d chip out his every feature little by little, painstakingly working away at the stone to define the look in his eyes when he tells you he loves you. You’d spend ages carving every wrinkle, every line, every perfect imperfection. The touch of it would be cold, like him, but it could never compare to how he looks as he settles over you, eyes blown dark with desire.

He inches closer, still on his knees, and takes hold of your thighs, lifting them up to meet his hips before gently easing inside of you. He lets out a sharp exhale as he slowly presses deeper, his grip shifting to your waist.

Nothing could compare to the way it feels as he fills you up inch by inch, murmuring praise, telling you how beautiful you are for him. “Darling,” he bites out, gritting his teeth at the pleasure. “If anyone ever tries anything like that with you again, I’ll tear them to shreds.”

You laugh a little, breathless, delirious in the delicious stretch of him inside you. “I won’t stop you. I just might ask to break their nose first.”

He shakes his head, but a small smile plays on his lips before he straightens and starts his rhythm. Slow, even thrusts that leave you grasping at the blankets beneath you, trying to steady yourself in the waves of sensation. He stares down at you, half-drunk on your blood, lips parted and his cheeks flushed.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes. “Gods. You’re incredible.”

Your eyes don’t quite know where to land. They never do. Now, they flutter over his abdomen, taking in the sight of the muscles that ripple and contract with the rolling of his hips. The droplets of sweat that slowly build on his skin, glimmering like crystals.

His jaw clenches, and his pace starts to quicken, and the feeling of him inside of your aching cunt is just so godsdamned good. His cock stretches you out like it was made for you, and soon your lungs are hardly filling with air. You can’t think, and you can scarcely breathe. All you know is that you’re not going to last much longer.

You tug at the blankets and shut your eyes, and he lets out another soft, aching noise as he thrusts deeper, faster, filling you up, the slick sound of your arousal echoing through the tent and mixing with the heaving of your breaths. You clench around him and he groans, shifting the angle of your hips, rhythm frantic.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Come for me, darling.”

And you do. Your body clenches around him as you cry out, back arching, pleasure overtaking every thought but one: Astarion. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. Your breaths scrape shallowly through your chest and ecstasy burns through every inch of you, every nerve - until you feel paralyzed. Content, thoroughly fucked and sated, but paralyzed.

You’ve just started to come back to your senses when Astarion follows you over the edge, a moan tumbling from his lips that sounds remarkably like your name. His hips thrust a few more times, chasing after his pleasure, clumsy movements that slow to a halt as he shuts his eyes. He shudders, then slackens, carefully pulling out of you before he wraps his hands around your thighs and gently lowers them back to the bedroll.

You can barely move, still lost in the aftershocks of pleasure as he cleans you up, smoothing the hair out of your face as he lays next to you.

“You know,” he says, “I think I’m going to ask Gale to make us another one of those scrolls.”

And, gods, all you can do is laugh.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion smut #bg3 x reader #mywriting

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melodic-haze · 15 days

Text

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino (GI) x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Pet play, using a hidden vibrator in public, reader with a cock/strap referred to as the former, ROUGH sex, spanking, a lot of painplay actually, blood cuz have you?? Seen her nails????? What the hell, overstimulation, dumbification 🫶

☆ — NOTES: I haven't actually played Genshin since the eternal Ayaka timer lol but anyway I got carried away I think LMAOOO I just have a huge thing for authority figures who are all subby for me 😞 I might do an aftercare continuation post idk

☆ — PARTS: Part 1 (you are here), Part 2

I really need to put a collar on this woman and call her my personal attack dog

This tall, scary woman who wields a SCYTHE, this Harbinger slash one winged fallen angel with crosses for eyes, this person who people call 'Father'???? Imposing as hell, very much the type that you can't look at in the eyes or else you're probably marked for death next.......but who could EVER expect that all that would go off and crumble down at the mere sight of you with a collar on your hand, a smile on your face and the intent to reduce her into nothing but your personal little pet?

Intimidating? Oh, please. Maybe she'd cut everyone else, but she wouldn't dare do that to you! Not even when she has a vibrator stuffed in her pussy. What's she gonna do realistically, hurt you? Oh no no no she wouldn't dare do that, you've done nothing wrong, could NEVER do anything wrong so whyever would she do that to you?

You've always wondered how Arlecchino could ever balance on those shoes of hers, with the way her heels narrow down into practically nothing by the time its length reaches the ground.

It's an impressive feat, being able to balance on such technically impractical footwear.. especially when the wearer has a small vibrator stuffed in her cunt, controlled by none other than you and the equally small device resting in your pocket, ready for you to use when you felt like it.

And you did exactly that—as the Harbinger went to talk to some person about whatever it is (you never really cared about the current semantics), you dug into your pocket idly, innocently, even, but the both of you know full well that it was anything but.

Despite Arlecchino keeping a straight face, you know the effect was immediate; you could tell from the slight stumble and the quite-literal split-second glitch that you miss when you blink. Unfortunately for her, though, the third-party hadn't blinked so she's left to scramble for an excuse as you watch on nearby, utterly delighted.

Eventually you see her excuse herself early, making it appear as if whatever they were discussing didn't seem to work. And who would ever question Arlecchino, of all people?

You.

"Well, now," you begin with a raised eyebrow as you watched your approaching lover approach you with a surprising amount of grace, wondering how she's kept herself steady with those heels of hers, "I thought you were going to take longer. What happened?"

You see her eyes stare at you, the red crosses within them practically burning so bright it's as if you were so close that you could touch the sun and burn... Though instead of looking away like a normal person with a sense of self-preservation, you dared to flash her an innocent smile as if you were utterly clueless, but both of you knew VERY well that that was, simply put, pure and utter bullshit.

She licks her lips before answering, "I have.. rescheduled for the discussion to continue when his pr-- ..proposal has been polished to the standard I require. We can return to-- ..!"

Her breath hitches, and she moves on to sit down swiftly and cross her legs in a futile effort to keep the toy still within her, though that turns out to be a mistake as you increase the intensity even further. Her mouth practically drops open before she looks down and covers her mouth as she grabs onto your wrist, nails digging and causing you to wince, though it doesn't keep the smug look on your face from increasing.

You narrow your eyes, as if utterly unimpressed by her antics, as you speak only for your lover to hear, "Flaking on your responsibilities just for you to get some relief sooner rather than later? Okay, then." And she hears, sees you laugh, and you both know that she knows she's crossed you, "Let's go home."

The only thing your pet Harbinger could really do was nod.

She need need NEEDS to be treated roughly for her to feel things bc tbh she probably has a high FEELING threshold in general. And like she's insane but that's another thing

Pull on her collar, her leash. Actually no pull on her HAIR there's a reason why she has it in a low tail 🤨🤨 pull it use it to direct her where you want her and she'll do whatever it is you require for her to do

Please do absolutely spank her, put her in her place, urge her on. Pain is a great stimulant, and is a great teacher 🫶

Needs she NEEDS you to hold her up as you pound at her without stopping, vibrator still in her cunt and being pushed deeper into her over and over by your cock and she doesn't tell you to stop either bc she's telling you to give her more, please!!

This deadly woman is asking you, pleading you, begging you for you to absolutely ruin her!!! But nonono you can't let her have what she wants when she's been uncharacteristically not doing her job like she's meant to so you pull out of her and immediately turn off the toy inside her and she looks at you with such shock that it's so strange to see on this ever-so-composed-and-strict member of the Fatui. But at the end you don't really care as you start up the whole process again after waiting for long enough, even switching your positions and paces and everything

Once you deem it enough and that she's basically at her limit, you decide to grant her.. mercy. Fuck her until she cums and she cums HARD, her nails reducing the sheets into damaged tatters of fabric and leaving bloody claw marks and bites on your skin as she writhes and twitches and glitches violently (you'll take care of it later, you reckon, but right now do you really care?) before she settles down.......

But you don't stop. Nononono you don't stop not at all!! This IS what she wanted, right??? Being fucked so hard until she's all dumb and forgets everything she has to keep track of in that brain of hers, make her forget that she's supposed to be this scaryyy Harbinger who could kill you in the blink of an eye, reduce her into nothing but your obedient little puppy desperate for a powerless mortal, of all things. That has to be humiliating, it SHOULD be humiliating when she has all that power, but she doesn't care. Not now, not ever.

Not when it's you :33

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cheolhub · 1 year

Note

um idk what this is called but soobin being a dumb big bf. literally he’s so big and he makes u feel so good n he doesn’t know why u want him to fuck u deeper when he’s already all up in ur guts :( like it just flies over his head why u go crazy over him being so tall n big BUT COME ON😭 sorry im thinking too much abt size kink soob

HIMBO!SOOBIN

FUCK. soobin being a big himbo who only thinks with his big fat cock that fills you up just right. :( himbo soobin who doesn’t understand the great effect he has on you ‘n misses all the obvious hints about you loving his size ‘n how good he makes you feel.

and, god, do you love his cock so much. he’s huge. brings you to tears every time, but you fucking love it. you love how he can get you just as dumb as he is without even meaning to.

but he’s oblivious! he’s always so sad to see you in tears!! he could probably cry himself because “why is my pretty baby crying?” he’d ask after impaling you on length.

such a sweet, dumb little thing—he’d even stop just ‘cuz he couldn’t handle thinking he’s hurt you. </3

but you protest, as always, wrapping your legs around his waist in attempts to keep him moving and push him deeper inside of you. you’re in tears, yes, that much is obvious, but not in the bad way— never in the bad way.

“d-don’t stop! please fuck me deeper, ‘binnie, god fuck, please,” you sob out a surprisingly coherent beg, back arching and hips bucking into his.

he frowns, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “but…” he splays his big hand over your tummy and pushes gently to emphasize his current position (as if you didn’t already know where his cock was). “‘m already right here, sweet girl?”

you gasp and splutter over your words at the action, fresh tears of pleasure filling your eyes over again. “‘binnie! ‘b-binnie! don’t care,” you pant, pussy tightening around him.

but when his confused expression doesn’t falter and his body still doesn’t move, you realize you actually have to spell it out for him. “‘binnie, feels so good to me! ‘m crying ‘cus i love it so so much— so big inside of me, jus’ wan’ you to keep fucking me… please?” you plea, hands weakly gripping his forearms.

he still doesn’t get it— he may never get it with his himbo brain, but he obliges anyway, resuming his thrusts ensuring his pelvis meets yours so he can fill you up all the way. just like you want.

you thank him. you thank him over and over and over till you’re gushing all over him, creaming his cock with your entirety. you incoherently tell him how big he is, how he’s the only one who fucks you this good, how you were made to take his fat cock.

dumb, oblivious baby just nods his head, not understanding a single word you’ve just told him. he releases inside of you solely because you wanted him to and because your tight pussy was “squeezin’ me so hard.”

he pulls out of your spent cunt watching his substantial load escape you with a frown.

“always cum so much,” you gasp, body slumping in exhaustion. you look up to see his puppy dog face and mirror it. “what’s wrong, baby?”

he sighs, looking down with his big length in his even bigger hand. “‘m still hard.”

“‘course you are,” you smile. it would be abnormal if he wasn’t— soobin needs at least 3 rounds before he goes soft again. “‘s okay, ‘bin. i can take it. give it to me?”

he nods cutely, eyes wide with a small grin before pushing into your messy pussy with a moan. if there’s one thing he understands, it’s that, like you, he can never get enough.

#soobin smut #soobin x reader #txt smut #did not mean for this to be long?#and the ending is horrible #i think this is entire thing might be horrible #BUT MY GOD THE CONCEPT OF HIMBO!SOOB IS INSANE #[💌: nonnie]#anon good god i saw this as soon as i woke up and immediately got to work... thank you for ur service

2K notes · View notes

noyoyoy · 3 months

Note

Bread with cheese!!!

You can do one of Ghost x Male Reader? , a story where Ghost returns home from a mission, very stressed. Well, he goes to the male reader and proceeds to fuck the reader too intensely until he is satisfied, relaxed and de-stressed.Ghost, let's say, can withstand many rounds and the reader only 1 or 2., that is, the reader was overstimulated to the maxGhost, let's say, can withstand many rounds and the reader was only 1 or 2, that is, the reader was overstimulated to the max.

((IF ANYONE KNOWS ME, I SWEAR THIS WAS PROPOSED BY MY DOG.😭😭😭😭😭

The Mask, The Man.

Simon “Ghost” Riley X Male reader

I cannot lie. This was supposed to be pure smut, then it turned into angst, and then fluff- I’m sorry if this wasn’t up to your standard or what exactly you wanted. I might have gotten lost in the heat of the moment.

TW: Smut. MDNI, 18+, EVERYTHING. IS. CONSENSUAL. Cursing, slight mentions of blood and murder, slight Somnophilia?? Idk m/n passes out.

It wasn’t often that Simon let you see Ghost. In fact, if you did ever see Ghost, the world was most likely ending.

However, you have seen him one time before, when Simon came home from a very long 6 month mission, you’d admit you were shocked when you ran down the stairs only to see your husband facing and leaning on the front door, his boots will on, his mask still on, and his back heaving up and down from how heavy he was breathing. He didn’t bother to change, much less shower before he be-lined to his truck, and driving off to his home where he knew his husband would be waiting.

M/n didn’t necessarily hate seeing Ghost, in fact it was Ghost that hated seeing M/n. Well, it was Simon who hated Ghost seeing M/n. He wasn’t acquainted with his Military life, not his friends, that godforsaken mask, or the blood and dirt from his missions. Every other time he came home he washed himself to a T, making sure he was clean before he came home, but even then he and his husband took a long bath together, M/n scrubbing off the mental dirt and blood that Simon could never wash off himself.

And thus here we are. M/n’s head shoved into the pillow, tears streaming down his face and his breath uneven as Simon was thrusting into his body, his hand buried in his hair keeping his head down while his other hand was wrapped around his waist with a grip he knew would bruise. He didn’t care. As much as he loved Simon, he missed Ghost. One taste was all it took and M/n constantly wanting more, silently hoping Ghost would step through that door again. Simon didn’t like hurting his dear lover, so he was always soft, and gentle with him. Though while M/n loved it, he also loved being roughed around a bit.

“F-Fuck! Simonn!” M/n choked out, the tears not stopping, saliva dripping from his open mouth and wetting the pillow below him. “That’s not my fucking name.” His voice was deep, husky, yeah, that wasn’t Simon. This was ghost, this was ghost in all glory. His angry, agressive, sexy, blood thirsty glory. “GHOST!” He screamed as he came for the 4th time that night, his dick sensitive and yet still painfully hard. “Shit.” Ghost huffed out as he rolled his head back, closing his eyes. He felt the coil in his lower stomach snap, his cum filling him again. It starting to spill out forming a frothy white ring around the base of his cock.

“Ghost! I- ! I can’t! Please please please~” It hurt. His hole was swollen, puffy, and red, his prostate no doubt abused to the fullest at this point. His body moved to have his hips pressed against the mattress, his face lifted by his hair as spit followed after and dropped down his chin, his dick now pushed fully against his belly and the thought sheets, gaining friction with every thrust Simon threw at him. But oh did I feel so good. His vision soon going dark to the feeling of Ghost gripping his hips and thrusting faster, letting his head fall down against the spit damp pillow.

•

Waking up, m/n noticed two things, one, every muscle in his body was aching, and his throat was sore, and two ghost now had his mask off as he laid his head on his chest. “Ah-” he gasped out and winced has he tried to sit up, eventually giving up and falling back down onto the broad chest below him. “I’m sorry..” he heard, now realizing Simon was back, and awake as well. “Hm? For what?” M/n muttered out closing his eyes still feeling sleepy after the very long night. “I was too rough. Your body is.. fucked because of me and my selfishness.” Simon felt horrible. He HATED hurting m/n. Especially during sex. “Mm.. it was great.” His husband lifted his head, then his body to crawl over his hips and straddle him. “Simon. It’s okay, trust me, I’m not made of glass you didn’t fuck up my body! I’ll be back to fine in like.. 4 days.” M/n said ignoring the burning feeling in his lower region.

“I hate it, I used you.. I felt you go limp and I still.. I couldn’t..” he couldn’t finish. He couldn’t bear to repeat what he did. Disgusted at the fact he kept going even after his lover fell unconscious. “Oh hush up. I told you many times already, I. Don’t. Mind. I find it hot when you use me!” M/n tried to fix his husband’s aching heart. “Now c’mon, we are nasty. It’s time to clean up and get some food in us!” M/n chirped as he sat up and pulled himself off of Simon and onto the floor, his knees almost buckling under him.

Simon watched his wince his way into the bathroom where he heard the water turn on. “SIMON!” He heard from the bathroom. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” He got up, walking into the bathroom and getting into the shower with his husband, cleaning all the dried fluids on (and in) M/n’s body.

And I’m done. My first time writing smut but I feel like I’ve read enough of it to do at least decent.

Open for requests, and criticism.

#artists on tumblr #ghost cod #simon riley x male reader #male reader #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #smut #fluff ending #slight angst

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joels-shitty-puns · 7 months

Text

The Key To Your Heart - Track 4

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Gif by:@sh214

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

*! New warnings will be listed first !*

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: ~2.3K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi there! To those of you who have read and are still with me, THANK YOU! I love you all. I'm sorry that my chapters are taking longer and longer. Work has been a bit more hectic lately and I also just had some serious writer's block with this chapter. That being said, it feels a little rough and I apologize if its awful lol. But either way, thanks for hanging in there with me and please let me know what you think! Your comments make me happy!

__________

You groaned, stepping out of bed and drifting towards the bathroom. Your face was sticky and your eyes stung from crying late into the night. It was silly, naive, and frankly stupid… but sometimes you can't control how hard emotions hit. Seeing that Pedro didn't actually watch your video was a let down - to put it mildly. Obviously he's a popular guy. A star. He has better things to do.

You should be grateful he even responded to your Instagram message before. Even though it hurts, surely he has more interesting things to do than message someone like you. Just because you wrote a song and he said he liked it doesn't mean he owes you anything more.

So after a fitful night's sleep, you were utterly exhausted; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Luckily, it was still your weekend and you could rest today.

More like spend the day wallowing in your self pity… you think, disdainfully at yourself.

Looking in the mirror, you notice your puffy eyes. There's some new acne, and a mop of frizzy hair on your head. After using the toilet, you step on your bathroom scale before your shower; a morning routine you started during years of dieting. Another 3 pounds. Up again?!

You look in the mirror, pinching your stomach with a sigh. I guess I shouldn't have had those cookies yesterday…

The food guilt creeps up as you think of the goodies you've eaten recently. Cookies yesterday, fast food the day before. You were bitter that you weren't one of those people that could just magically eat whatever they wanted without gaining an ounce.

But you aren't, and you should know better.

Frustrated with your appearance, you begin your usual internal debate about how to fix it.

Maybe I should go back on the diet…

But the diet caused you so many problems. Remember the stomach issues? The hunger? The lack of joy? Binge eating on cheat days until you were sick?

But! I lost so much weight!

Yeah, until you started gaining weight…

Maybe I didn't cut enough. People said I looked so good. I was *almost* skinny.

Maybe people would like me more if I was skinny… Maybe Pedro would like me if I were skinny. There's no way he would be with me looking like this.

These were the debates that plagued you for months… years… a lifetime.

You showered, tears beginning to flow again as you tried to push out the thoughts. He was probably just busy, but either way you knew you didn't have a chance.

Your friends were right. You were an obsessed fan. It was… concerning, as they said. They pitied you when you felt sad about your feelings. Just find someone you actually have a chance with, they pushed. Someone real.

But... he did message you. Maybe he didn't even know you had an interview yesterday? Maybe he watched it later. You were being utterly ridiculous. It didn't matter anyway.

But what you didn't know was that Pedro felt just as disappointed. He wanted to be the one on your list. The one you loved. He went to bed just as mopey as you did and woke up just the same.

_____

Having washed away your bad feelings as best as you could, you gave Skipper a kiss on his little forehead and made some coffee while scrolling Instagram. You were nervous to see what people had to say about your interview, but you had to face the music eventually.

As you could have predicted, people were running through the potential suspects (or prospects, that is) who have brown curly hair and brown eyes. Some supported you and loved your interview. Others criticized you for being too chicken to show yourself.

You weren't used to this level of attention, and you really weren't sure you enjoyed it. But you were grateful to have your two lives kept separate, your true persona still shaded in privacy.

What you did not predict, was a notification popping up from Pedro, interrupting your scrolling. Forgetting to breathe, you immediately clicked on it. If the message were food from the oven, you would've burnt your hand the way you grabbed it so fast.

Perhaps I should've been a little more chill about opening this so quickly... Oh well.

Pedro Pascal messaged you: "Hey! I watched your interview yesterday. You did fantastic. I know fame is new to you and you're nervous, but you're a natural."

Your heart swelled. He did watch it!! He must have just been busy during the live stream.

You replied: "Pedro! You watched it!?! Thank you so much. That really means a lot to me."

Pedro read your message immediately, but instead of sharing in your level of excitement, he was hit with a wave of confusion instead. She must just be trying to not hurt my feelings. She already knows I watched it.. unless she didn't even notice my name. Or she didn't care enough to look for it…?

He decided to play along with it anyway. "Absolutely, I did. I've had it marked on my calendar since the day it was announced a couple days ago and watched it as it was streamed live."

His response took you by surprise, and then made you angry. If he really watched it, he would know that they gave you a list of the people who watched it live. Why was he lying to you about it?

You started to plan out your response, maybe even send an accusatory comeback, but then you thought about it again.

Why would he lie about it? What would he gain by lying? He messaged you.

With this in mind, you instead chose to take a different approach. One better designed for fishing. One you had to be very careful about, so as not to reveal the fact that you looked for his name.

"Wait!? You watched it live? I didn't see you on the list. You're one of the few people I've spoken to who actually seem genuinely friendly and interested in having a conversation with me. I had sort of hoped you were listening."

There. That doesn't sound too revealing, right? Totally friendly…

Pedro opened your message and was met with both confusion, and something else he wasn't expecting. Hope. Did you look for his name??

Still, he wanted to address the confusion. "You didn't see me on the list? That's odd.. but I'm sure there were a lot of names to scan through. Maybe my name was just buried in that list."

You knew it wasn't buried. He was the only name you looked for. The only name you cared about seeing on that list, not that you'd admit that to him right now. But you also didn't want him to feel that insignificant either.

"There were a lot of names, I'll give you that. But I swear you weren't there. Were you logged into your account? Maybe your Internet crashed, or you missed part of it?"

Instantly he remembered the ten or so minutes that Oscar interrupted him.

Oscar!

"Oh shit! That's it. Oscar barged into my house while I was watching it and I slammed my laptop closed."

"Oscar… Isaac? Wait, why did you slam your laptop closed?"

"Yeah, that's the one. And… I don't know. He just surprised me, I guess. It wasn't a planned visit."

Slamming your laptop closed is an odd reaction to your friend visiting, but okay, you thought.

"So you closed your laptop, and missed a few minutes. And that must have been the moment they pulled the list of viewers."

Pedro replied. "It must have. But I was there, more than happy to listen to what you had to say"

If my name had been on the list, would her answer have been different? When asked whether the man she loved was on the list and she said no, would my name have changed anything? Pedro wanted to ask you these questions. But he couldn't. Not only was he scared, but he also didn't want it to come off as some douchey comment that made you uncomfortable. He wanted to get to know you better, even if just as a friend, and he wouldn't let a silly little crush ruin that.

You sent a response that could be deemed as friendly or neutral, still cautious. "Thank you Pedro. I'm really glad you watched it."

He replied without hesitancy. "Of course. But, I am sorry that your guy wasn't on that list."

He sounds genuine. Not like he's fishing for information like everyone else on the internet. In turn, you decide to be playful with your response. Risky, but still not too revealing. "It's okay. It turns out that list wasn't as accurate as I once thought it was" you typed with a smirk.

"So maybe he was watching after all," Pedro answered.

"Maybe he was."

Pedro soon changed the subject, "I did enjoy hearing about your favorite things, though. You may know this already, but I love movies. Some of the ones you mentioned are a couple of my favorites as well. But as for your favorite books, I haven't read them, but I've been meaning to find a new book to read."

The fact that he was a reader made your heart flutter; the thought of him sitting with a book, his glasses perched on his nose, brow furrowed as he stroked his thumb over his lip in deep concentration. You were overjoyed at the thought of him reading *your* favorite book and potentially having someone to talk to about it. Before you knew it, you had frantically sent multiple excited messages.

You: "Oh! If you read any of my favorite books we HAVE to talk about them!"

Second message: "AGH the first book I mentioned is my favorite, out of all of them. The ending blew my mind. And the characters were just so amazing! Well except for that one guy.. but I won't spoil that…"

Third message: "But my favorite character has the greatest lines!!! Sometimes I like to quote it but nobody else gets it. And the way the author describes the settings is so magical, it makes you want to be there."

Pedro caught himself smiling at his phone, wrapped up in your excitement, as you were finally able to talk to someone about your favorite book. It was adorable how happy you seemed.

He started to type a reply when you sent another message. "Shoot… I'm sorry. I got a little too carried away…"

"Who told you that?"

Huh?

"Who told me what?" You asked.

"Who made you feel like you had to stop talking when you became excited about your interests?"

His question took you aback, but your mind struggled to pinpoint the answer to it. There's been so many people that have told you that over the years. People you assumed were friends. An old crush who didn't like multiple text messages at once. Classmates who would complain or make fun. It was routine.

"Oh. It's not a big deal. It's just something I've heard over the years. But I also know how I get and I don't want to be too much. I'm sorry. I don't want to monopolize the conversation too much either. But hey, you didn't mention, what are your favorite books?" You tried to change the topic.

Pedro felt that protective feeling bubble up in his chest again.

"Over the years!? There have been multiple occasions?" Pedro shook his head, even though you couldn't see through the text. "I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel that way or said anything to imply that your interests weren't worthy of being heard. Fuck them. They should be thankful that you shared your interests."

They should be grateful to hear your beautiful voice get so excited. To get to see your excitement and smile, Pedro thought to himself angrily. He hoped he could someday witness you getting excited over your interests in person too.

"Thank you Pedro. But really, it's okay. I know I get a little… obsessive and crazy, especially with sending multiple texts, so I don't blame them. Haha. :)" you tried to soften the mood.

"I don't want you to ever feel that way with me. I liked hearing you talk about your interests."

You began to type, but Pedro beat you to the punch.

"In fact… if you'd like to talk more," he gave you his phone number. "Feel free to text me, or you can call me too. I like talking on the phone, but I know not everyone does."

Holy shit. Is this real life? Did Pedro Pascal just give me his phone number? And ask me to call him?

Truthfully, your introverted self really didn't like talking on the phone. But the idea of talking to Pedro, hearing his voice on the other end of your phone was too much to handle.

What you didn't realize, was that Pedro wanted it just as bad.

Your fingers danced over your phone keyboard, trying to find the right words for a reply. What do you say when the love of your life (that you didn't think you would ever have a chance with) gives you his phone number?

Pedro watched anxiously as the three dot-dot-dots of typing appeared and disappeared over and over. His heart was racing, and he began to worry he may have overstepped this time.

Why did you give her your number? She's going to think you like her!!!

But you do like her, you idiot, Pedro berated himself.

He ran his hand down his face, waiting for your response in agonizing suspense. But instead of hearing the pop of a notification, his phone began to ring instead, an unknown number displayed on the home screen.

Wait… is that her? Is she CALLING me?!

He answered frantically, practically dropping his phone in the process.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Pedro? It's me.."

You heard him give a breathless laugh before answering with a gentle "Hi."

_____

Thank you for reading!! Let me know your thoughts :) More will be coming soon. I know this is a painfully slow burn lol. Thanks for being patient.

Next chapter! Here

_____

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #rpf #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal x afab!reader #key to your heart

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ccycloneblogging · 27 days

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Idk way but seeing catnap chasing dogday is quite funny.

But idk way but I can see player/angle. Just standing there like it a normal day like there not even trap in the factory

I had a lot of fun drawing that little chase, but you are also so right.

In fact, that inspired me to actually write some fanfiction! All below the cut, but sadly no drawings to go along with it (for now).

"Angel!!!" It was a screech, mixed with a pitiful whining and another plee for help.

Only to be promptly followed by heavy footsteps and the sound of furious hissing.

Angel gave a heavy sigh, leaning against one of the upright picnic tables as they simply watched the scene before them.

DogDay, a small cartoon dog with sunny orange fur and a personality to match, was bouncing around. Desperately, he was trying to avoid the large purple paws of the feline chasing him down. Every clawless swipe had missed so far, but the cat's aim was getting better.

"Angel, Please!!!"

Angel sighed again, raising a hand to rub their temples. Two hours. Two hours ago, Angel had first found this little pup handing in a rotting cell. Two hours ago, they freed him and returned his legs. Two hours ago, their life was quiet.

They had begrudgingly allowed DogDay to follow them, concerned the pup would be helpless. They were pleasantly surprised to see he could handle himself, but his looney behavior leaved much to be desired. Simple tasks became jokes, stealth was no longer an option, and Angel was almost positive they could hear a faint laugh track playing every so often.

The worst part?

Ever since they freed the dog, CatNap became unpredictable. Ollie had warned them that this monstrous cat would hide in the shadows and hunt them, but this? This wasn't something any of them had expected.

CatNap gave a rather loud hiss, lunging forward with a powerful pounce. The orange pup was helpless, unable to dart to the side this time, and was tackled to the ground.

The two toppled over, again and again as they came to a stop on the hard paved floor of PlayCare. Once more, CatNap returned to a smaller size like DogDay, though he had him pinned to the ground.

DogDay wheezed, trying to force air back into his lungs. It wasn't easy, as CatNap firmly sat on his chest.

"Apologize." CatNap's voice was distorted, thanks to his voice box being broken long ago. His white eyes narrowed, his tail thrashing.

"You took my legs."

"You lost our game. You knew the risks."

"But you chained me to a wall! And left me there!"

"I came back for you." The cat huffed, his purple ears flat against his head. "It kept you safe from the minis. Or so... I thought it would."

"Angel!" The dog whined, tilting his head up to spot the human a few feet away. Without hesitation, he shot them the most pitiful looking puppy eyes he could manage.

Two hours of this.

Angel would have theorized that CatNap was simply territorial, but frankly? They didn't need to guess. Yes, CatNap wanted to serve the Prototype. Yes, horrible things occurred and he made efforts to stop Angel from cutting off the red gas.

But CatNap made no attempt to hurt them.

He watched them running around, only providing small obstacles to stop them - which only encouraged DogDay's wackier side to show more. Angel was convinced that this cat, though loyal to the prototype, had his heart set towards something more.

"You two are acting like children." They frowned. They shouldn't be scolding their enemy - if they could even call CatNap one. "If you two are going to do this, can you at least play a little quieter?"

"I thought he had died!" CatNap hissed. "You stole him from me! I thought -!"

"...What?" This got DogDay's attention as he snapped his head back to look up at the cat. "Angel freed me, and we were chased around by the minis for a bit. They saved me."

"I... I saw the human." CatNap's frown deepened as he flexed his claws. "I needed to see if they harmed you, so I went to your cage. I found minis, eating and bloodied orange fur scattered around the cell. I found your belts, torn and cut. I thought..."

"Oh, Moonbeam..." DogDay's voice softened, reaching over to the cat to gently pull him in for a hug.

Angel rolled their eyes again.

At least Huggy had been simple. Hungry beast, shove off catwalks. Miss Delight? Hungry creature who went insane? Smash into a wall.

But CatNap? He seemed to love only two things. The prototype, and this odd dog. Even the severed legs hadn't been an issue. They were in the next cell over, casually walking around on their own. DogDay hadn't experienced any pain reattaching them. The belt on his waist and some torn fur were the only signs that he had been ripped in half to begin with.

It didn't make sense to the human, and it certainly wasn't adding up how this cat needed comforting from the same one he had torn and held captive - or even why the dog was providing such tender moments so easily.

CatNap looked furious, still trying to stare daggers at the human. Though... It was impossible to take him seriously as DogDay nuzzled into him. Even more so when a soft purr escaped the cat.

Whatever.

So long as the cat wouldn't try to kill them, and Angel could escape this hellhole, they wouldn't ask any further questions. All they really wanted was to go back home and sleep in their own bed, preferably away from any sort of cartoon.

...Though deep down? Angel had a feeling that dream would be impossible now.

#thanks for stopping by the inbox!#toon logic au #ccyclone rambles #have some ppt fanfiction from me #maybe I'll post this on AO3 as well

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lucysarah-c · 1 month

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Hi! Happy new years eve ✨🥂 hope you had an awesome 2023 and all my best wishes and blessings for 2024 🫶🏼

Now, I can’t get this idea out of my head. Levi adopting a kitten with his girl. I always thought of Levi like a cat person, idk he just seem to fit on it. And as a cat person myself I would love to read something about it.

I can imagine him thinking is a bad idea but then he cant go anywhere in the house without the kitty 🫶🏼 so adorable I guess

Ahhh happy new year!! Thank you for all your well wishes and sending them back to you! I'm sorry it took me this long to write this for you sweetie! T-T so sorry

It started in the least expected way. Levi and his group of friends had been trying to find new ways to spend time together in their difficult adult lives. They wanted to revisit certain activities they used to enjoy in their glory college days and bond a little. You, of course, didn’t complain. If Levi decided to go camping with his friends or hiking on any weekend, it was also a chance for you to hang out with your friends at home, maybe watch a movie he doesn’t like, and have a “me�� afternoon. It was all positive until Levi began to notice something during their hangouts.

Dogs.

All of them, particularly Mike and Erwin, had their own respective big, fluffy, loyal-to-death dogs that they would take with them on hikes, jogs, or even camping trips. You could see from the look in your boyfriend's eyes that he was envious. The only reason you and Levi hadn’t adopted any pets before wasn’t because of you in particular. You grew up with pets, loved them, and felt that the house was missing something without a fluffy companion. And don’t get me wrong, Levi had always had a soft spot for animals. But, in his own words, “As a kid, my family could never afford one… and Kenny hated them so.”

When you two moved in together, he didn’t want any pets due to "too much hair, too much mess, and too much money spent on the vet." But now, you could see in his eyes that he desired one, especially when they took pictures with his friends' dogs, and Levi hardly ever took pictures himself. Sooner or later, you brought up the idea, and he seemed excited. You quickly guessed that he wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it since perhaps his pride stopped him from admitting that now all the previous reasons he had given you to say no weren’t that important.

One lazy Saturday, you were walking past the doors of a shelter. Both of you admitted that if you were going to get a pet, it would be a rescue, giving the chance for an animal to live the American dream (two adults with good salaries, a pretty house, and no kids) after someone had made them believe they were trash. Both of you talked to the receptionist, who said that soon she would walk both of you to the dog’s department to choose. But when the guide came back and you were ready to go in and check out the puppies with your boyfriend, he was nowhere to be found.

Quickly, you followed the sound of people talking, and there he was, talking to a vet at the cat’s side of the shelter. The vet seemed to be deeply engrossed in conversation with him as you reached his side.

“Lev? Love, they are waiting to show us the dogs,” you called to him before smiling softly at the vet, acknowledging their presence.

“Oh, I was just telling him that she never gets close to anyone, not even to us. It was almost magical seeing her trying to reach out to him,” the vet said, and you quickly concluded it was the cat that was rubbing the top of her head against the front of her cage, trying to reach Levi.

“Aww, poor thing,” you said as you bent down slightly to have a better look at her face and perhaps give the cat some love through the small space of the bars. But the cat quickly moved away from your touch and softly hissed.

It hurt you, despite knowing that all cats have their temperament, until the vet spoke again, “Oh, she has always been a little grumpy; she’s not a fan of people.”

Levi also bent down to the cat's level, and he seemed to be the chosen one because the cat was continuously bumping her head against the cage, seeking more love from him. “Well, that makes two of us,” he commented, admitting his antisocial tendencies.

“When we found her, we thought she was feral because of the damage from living on the streets and her attitude, but we found she was chipped. We contacted the owner, but he said that since she couldn’t have more kittens, they left her in the streets,” both of you slightly raised to look at the shelter’s owner with heartbroken faces. “She’s been here for a while, but nobody wants her because she’s old, grumpy, and because of all the pregnancies she had, she has FIV, which is an expensive treatment an-”

“I’m taking her,” Levi interrupted the vet without a second thought, and you were about to comment that the plan was to get a dog, nothing against taking the little cat.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of responsibility, and she’s rather old,” the vet warned.

“I’m sure. What do I have to do to take her home?” Levi replied with confidence.

That’s how Chai Tea, or just Chai, came into your life. She was a grumpy old lady, but you two loved her to death, especially Levi. She seemed to be a golden brownish Persian, which made sense given her breeding history, but one of her ears was damaged from living on the streets, giving her a permanently angry face. The first sign of her enjoying being a spoiled princess was during her first visit to the vet after her adoption, when the instructions were to reduce her food rations because she was already a bit too chubby.

“Shhh, don’t listen to the vet. You’re perfect,” you heard Levi whispering as he rocked her in his arms in the kitchen. “Here, have some ham.”

She was obsessed with him, and he was obsessed with her. Did Levi complain about the hair? A lot, but at least he took the effort to vacuum and brush her himself. In his own words, “If I can make her life worth it for even a little bit at the end of it, then I’ll do it.”

It was endearing to receive a text message from Levi saying "On my way home," and then witness the little fluffy ball rushing down the hallway with her short legs once you tell her "Chai! Daddy is coming home!"

It was incredibly cute how she would meow all the way to the front door, occasionally looking back at you to make sure both of you were going to greet him.

It’s rather funny how he went to a shelter to get a big dog for his "bro's" adventures and came back with a cat that demanded to be picked up and rocked in his arms while he prepared dinner. Even funnier is how he accepted it. Now your camera phone is full of pictures and videos of Levi humming lullabies, sleeping with a cat on top of him, or holding her up in the air so she can hunt a moth.

A little bit jealous? Perhaps. Sometimes, Levi seems more eager to greet the fluffy cat when he gets home than he is to greet you. But being able to give an elderly cat a second chance was a better experience than anything else.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @s0meb0dy-0nce-t0ld-me @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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gaiathemexicanbeauty · 3 months

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"what makes you think you can..?"

(bingo challenge prompt #2 :D)

pairing: re4!leon kennedy x gn!reader word count: 693 warnings: arguing? does that count idk, angst maybe??, mentions of ashley (my queen), leon throwing disses at you for sure, no kiss kiss :(, unrequited love?, leon's a man of few words yall

takes place during re4 :3

"what makes you think you can just walk away?"

leon's voice is icy, brimming with poison when you turn your back to ashley and him. there's no doubt in your mind that he has his gun aimed and at the ready where you stand at the bottom of the dirt path. "leon, stop-" "ashley, you've been amazing company but i can fight my own battles." you say firmly, slowly turning back to face leon to show you mean no harm towards them. "don't worry, i think you can drop the act by now." he says with a glare, rainwater glistening off of his gun and drenching the three of them. you only hum in response to that, looking over at ashley: it'd really only been a few days since you'd been tagging along with the pair, but the look ashley was giving you was like you'd just kicked her dog.

"what tips you off that i'm with the bad guys, hm? am i too friendly, too giving?" you say, crossing your arms against your chest as leon tightens his grip on his gun. he doesn't respond, just keeps glaring at you with this indiscernible look in his eyes. ah. you muster up as much face as you can, trying not to both relish in and repent the way you can sense his hurt from a mile away; maybe ashley was picking up on it, too, it would make more sense as to why she'd been so willing to bond with you while leon kept you at arms' length. "who will i tell, leon? who could i possibly working for that needs to know if the president's daughter gets home safe or where she is? i don't exactly see the locals welcoming me with hugs and kisses." you say, earning a scoff from leon that makes you swallow thickly. "something tells me this is a need to know basis. but i'm also not gonna end up being the one 6 feet under when i find out who needs to know."

you let out an incredulous laugh at that, shaking your head before smiling coldly up at leon; god, you wanted to smack that stupid gun out of his hands and shake him. "i bet you used to be fun at parties. i really don't know what else i can tell you to let me home free." you say, the three of you unmoving as thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance. leon seems to just stare at you (or through you) almost in shock though it's not evident on his face. his features falter for a second, one of those 'blink and you'll miss it' moments and then you see it: under the grime and rage and stress and years he'd never even been a shadow of a thought in your mind, you see him. the boy he'd told you only bits and pieces about that explored a strange city and a strange police station ravaged by destruction and gore. the boy who never had his famed first day. the boy who's job first and foremost was the protection of others.

the moment's gone before you have time to process it, watching leon put his gun away and turn on his heel in the opposite direction; anything you wanted to say was lost to him now. ashley is left to look between the two of you, unable to meet your gaze and her eyes meeting leon's back. "ashley, let's go." "leon-" "on me." ashley's lips part in shock a bit as leon keeps walking, not looking back even once. she looks over at you, worry obvious in her expression. you finally meet her eyes, giving her a smile that says 'what can you do?' and waving her off. she doesn't take her eyes off of you, walking hesitantly before eventually turning away to catch up to leon. you watch the two of them disappear behind a patch of trees, standing in the rain for a bit longer; you tell yourself it's to show him you won't follow them but if he glanced your way for even a second, you'd join them again in a heartbeat.

◦°˚\(*❛‿❛)/˚°◦

I MISSED LEON KENNEDY SO BAD, he was actually going to be my first prompt but this one helped me create that sweet sweet drama

thanks for reading once again! im having such a good time writing for this challenge and being able to do small pieces instead of one big piece. i hope you all are enjoying it too! :3

next prompt:

one finds the other crying

PSSTT here's the link to the bingo masterlist to find all the prompts in one spot ;3

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ohbo-ohno · 7 months

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But!!!! What if!!!! The Princess’ entire kingdom is a werewolf kingdom. And!!! And maybe the Princess is a vampire from her mother’s side. Then the Princess’ escape options are even fewer because she can’t go out in the sun. Maybe she even gets addicted to Simon’s blood because of how good it is but hates Johnny’s (says it tastes like a dog’s) - 🕸

oh spiderweb.... i love you...

vampire king and queen who keep the werewolf population oppressed in their kingdom, and their daughter the princess promises her werewolf guard she'll make changes when she gets into power - but vampires are immortal, so she's stuck waiting for some outside for to kill her parents so she can make real change

but then here comes ghost (wraith? dragon? demon? idk!) who does kill her parents, but he doesn't put princess in power, for obvious reasons.

but... he is making changes. even if johnny's loyalty is to the princess, she never could make real change and ghost definitely is. and he keeps asking johnny for advice on how to best help werewolves, so he really feels like he's actually helping

and princess fucking hates ghost. yes it's good that he's making things better for the wolves, of course, but also... everything gets worse for her. suddenly the entire kingdom is on a day schedule, so princess always feels like she's missing everything.

and ghost does this horribly annoying thing where he always acts like he's doing her a favor. yes she's missing all sorts of meeting with diplomats, but she needs her sleep and he can't restructure everything in the kingdom for one little vampire, can he? no, no, that wouldn't be fair! she'll just have to talk to ghost when she wakes up to catch up on everything she missed <3 johnny can even be there, to make her more comfortable if she'd like

and it would make it so easy for ghost to bring johnny to his side, because he can show him real tangible evidence of what good he's doing. things are getting better, and the proof is right in front of his face everyday that he sees his people freed from their leashes

also princess needing blood but hating johnny's :( johnny hates being fed off of because it goes against every animal instinct he has, but it also hurts his feelings that he apparently tastes like dog and that his favorite person in the world hates the way he tastes. ghost just sees an opportunity, though, and totally forces princess to drink exclusively from him

i like in the vampire diaries how when vampires don't drink enough blood they just slow down a lot and eventually become statues. let's imagine something like that here - princess trudging around all slow and sleepy and ghost just smirking, says oh? did i forget to give you breakfast, princess? i'm so sorry, why dont we fix that. c'mere, on my lap. and holds her real close, keeps a hand on the back of her neck to hold her in place

pulls her off when she tries to take too much :( grabs her by the hair and tugs her right off, smiles a little when she whines and tries to go for more. swipes his fingers over the blood, holds them in front of her mouth and nearly laughs when she licks desperately at each of his fingers to get every little drop

#🕸 anon #asks and answers #conqueror ghost au #demon ghost and vampire princess who turns werewolf johnny into a hellhound? idk!#bo writes

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mm-275 · 9 months

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MILES MORALES HEADCANNONS 2

Request: yes

tw: none i think?

- Ok so I think that he listens to a little of all genres of music. Like he’s cool with everything but there’s a few songs or artists that he doesn’t fw

- He will make you make him a playlist so he can listen to it when he misses you and he’ll make you a playlist BUTT he’ll be nervous to send it to you, so when your like “bitch where’s my playlist?” he’s like “you actually wanted it”

- This boy BEGGED his parents for Spotify premium and they finally got it for him when there was like 3 months free near his birthday (he cried)

- When you find out he’s spiderman (you’d probably get mad he’s dropping dates and stuff so you confront him and he tells you) you make sure he’s always safe

- He drops by your house sometimes when he gets hurt after a fight or something and you patch him up. Now you keep a first aid kid in your room for him

- When he gets involved with the Spider Society, you get involved. He trusts you with EVERYTHING, so he tells you everything, and eventually you meet all of them.

- You get along with almost all of his friends there. After hearing what Miguel did, you don’t trust him around Miles and Miles doesn’t trust Miguel around you, so he tried to keep you as far away from him as possible.

- Gwen takes awhile to get used to you, but she eventually warms up when she realizes Miles is happy with you.

- Peter B introduces you to Mayday and you hold her and play with her and PB is like “if you don’t keep her I will”

- Hobie appreciates that you make Miles happy and therefore he doesn’t mind you at first. I think he’d be hesitant but he warms up to you (you guys become best friends)

- Pav is so sweet i don’t think anyone couldn’t immediately love him. You and him sit together and gush about eachothers s/o’s all the time and give eachother advice.

- Remember when he was texting his dad and had a bunch of typos because he was fighting a villain? He always responds to you, therefore most of his texts are illegible 😭

- He’s super smart (obviously), but will make you/his mom read over his school essays just in case.

- I think that he wouldn’t use a ton of pet names. Maybe a few sometimes, but would mostly use your name and a few nicknames hes made up (he has one that only he’s allowed to call you)

- Absolutely cannot play an instrument for shit. Gwen and Hobie have tried to teach him, and if you play an instrument you have too, but he gives up.

- He would be decent at most sports, but he’s the type of kid to only do gym for the required credits, and doesn’t go out of the way to play. If friends or you ask to play something with him, he would.

- Once you guys are together for a little, he would bring you to all the family functions. Cousins wedding? you’re there. Fourth of July celebration? He’s dragging you around to all of his family members.

- His mom would make him dress up for all of the holidays (my mom too), like at Christmas he’s in an ugly sweater and his mom is taking 10 photos of all of their matching sweaters (this is a self projection)

- Asks if he can adopt every dog and cat in the alleyways.

- He would know how to do a few origami pieces and does them in class when he’s bored and then gives them to you

- Draws on the corners and in the margins of your papers in class

- Watches CoryxKenshin and either youtube or spotify will be playing in the background of his room at all times.

- Before you guys meet eachothers parents, your screen time would be like 15+ hours from how much you guys would’ve facetimed

- Said this in the last part, but I have to bring this back. He LOVES holding your hand. He’s late to class to hold your hand down the hallways.

- He refuses to split the pole. He’s not even superstitious he just thinks it’s weird 😭

- He’s picky asf. Chicken tenders are his best friend (me too)

—————————

sorry this is so short i ran out of ideas.

im thinking of doing these with another character like e42 miles or hobie? idk lmk

#miles morales #miles morales 1610 #miles morales x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse

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kaiapaia · 8 months

Text

the fall of icarus

Pairing: Suguru Geto/Reader, hinted Satoru Gojo/Reader

WC: 3269 (do not perceive me)

Content warnings: canon typical violence, for both Star Wars and Jujutsu Kaisen. Also, I borrow some plot beats from the Hidden Inventory/Premature Death arcs, so there are some potential spoilers if you haven't seen those yet.

I saw the lovely @strawberrystepmom 's It Takes A Galaxy collab and immediately knew I had to write something for our greatly beloved tragic bastard.

This was so much fun to write, as a mash up of two of my favorite universes. I did kind of play fast and loose with the lore of both series, but it was all in the name of ~drama~ so I feel like it was for a good cause. Two things I do want to mention, just for clarity's sake, is that Reader uses a modified version of Force Empathy, and that when a force user falls to the dark side, their eyes turn yellow. IDK if that's technically canon in Star Wars anymore, but I thought it was a cool detail from the older stuff and decided to use here.

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI. If you don't have an age in your bio or pinned I will block you.

There is a specter that dogs your steps in the halls of the Temple. A name, only muttered in hushed whispers in the shadowed corners. Most will refer to him as the fallen one, as if saying his name will bring misfortune.

You know him as Suguru Geto.

He was your friend, once.

You remember his smile, and the way it made his dark eyes crinkle and his whole face soften. The way his big hands felt warm even through your layers of robes as he would correct your form during saber drills. The low, smoky timbre of his voice that made even the driest of texts hypnotizing to listen to.

Most importantly, you remember the day he left. Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo, freshly Knighted and already being hailed as some of the Order’s best and brightest, sent on a mission so important that they couldn’t tell you anything other than they were leaving. Gojo ruffled your hair and promised that he would bring you back something sweet. Geto pulled you into a hug and promised that they wouldn’t be gone long. You remember the sound of their laughter in the hangar, and the smiles on their faces as they waved goodbye from the cockpits of their starfighters.

Geto was right, they weren’t gone long. Just a few short days, long enough to miss them but not long enough to worry. When you got the ping that their ships had docked, you ducked out of meditation and hurried to the hangar to greet them.

When they emerged from their ships, you didn’t need the Force to tell you that something went wrong. You reached for it anyway, drawing it around you like a comforting blanket as you took in their expressions. Gojo had his eyes covered, a rare sight on Temple grounds, and walked without his usual boisterous charm. He half-heartedly ruffled your hair, resting his hand on your head for a moment before moving past you.

Geto avoided your touch entirely. His face was dark and drawn, black eyes inscrutable. He met your eyes for a second, before hurrying past you into the Temple. You reached out to him with the Force, and felt a wave of anger and pain so potent it hit you like a punch to the gut. The contact lasted for just a second, severed on his end as he turned to look at you. The expression on his face reminded you of a wounded animal backed into a corner, savage with pain. It was the first time he’d looked at you and made you believe that he could hurt you.

Things changed, after that. Gojo seemed to recover the fastest, bouncing around the Temple with his usual antics. He started seeking you out more, and finding increasingly transparent excuses to touch you, like draping an arm around your shoulders as you walked in the halls or dropping his head in your lap when he would find you studying in the archives. Each time, you would reach out with the Force, tapping into your abilities to connect to Gojo’s emotions. His control was ironclad, so you rarely were able to forge a connection, but there were sometimes where you caught a trace of a deep sorrow. On those days, Gojo seemed more withdrawn, and would burrow into your touch like a small child seeking comfort. You let him, using your abilities to push feelings of calm through the bond you shared.

Geto began avoiding you. Like Gojo, he made an effort to return to normal, but it fell through quickly. He no longer joined in on Gojo’s teasing commentary, and avoided your touch. You reached out to him with increasing desperation, trying to rekindle the embers of your connection, and were met with silence at every turn.

There were moments where you would wake up at night, sensing Geto’s presence outside your door. He would linger just outside your room, as if he couldn’t bring himself to knock. Each time, you would get up and go to the door. At first, you would open it to invite him in, but he would disappear before the door could slide open. After, you would stand behind the door, feeling his presence and letting him feel yours. You would rest a hand on the cold plasteel, and for those moments in the dead of night, it was almost like you could feel the warmth of his hand on the other side.

You also began to feel eyes on you. It’s not uncommon to be watched in the Temple, but it usually happens during lessons, sparring, or meditations, with instructors keeping an eye on students who might need assistance or masters looking at prospective padawans. Those eyes are usually calm and detached, the gaze feeling almost clinical as it passes over you. This gaze is heavy, like a physical touch. It feels almost… covetous. You feel it most when you’re alone, usually poring over a holocron in the archives or practicing your lightsaber forms late into the night. In those moments, you can feel those eyes following a bead of sweat that slips down your neck into the loosened collar of your robes like a lover’s touch, soft and possessive.

In your heart, you know who those eyes belong to. The Jedi teach their students to let go, and that attachment leads down a dark and dangerous path. But you can’t deny that you’ve looked at him the same way- stolen glances admiring the curve of his jaw, or the way his muscles flex under his tunic as he moves effortlessly through his saber forms. You’ve felt it, a need that simmers low in your gut, a dark whisper to sink your teeth in and never let go. It’s something that you’ve spent many hours of meditation trying to will away, very carefully thinking about anything else. It’s an honor to be chosen, to be brought to the Temple and trained. You won’t let this temptation lead you astray, and you won’t let this feeling call one of your dearest friends away from the Light.

Geto begins to spend more and more time in the archives. You see him moving like a specter, the light of the holocrons casting strange shadows over his bone white face. His eyes are dark and the bags under his eyes are darker, and you notice that his robes hang more loosely on his body. The next time that you see Shoko, you bring it up, and she shrugs helplessly.

“You can’t help someone who doesn’t want help,” she sighs. “All we can do is be there for him. Don’t worry too much, little light,” Shoko ruffles your hair affectionately. “He’s a big strong boy. Focus on your studies for now. Look for some fancy theological problem you can argue over with him once he pulls himself together.”

You swat Shoko’s hands away from your hair and smile. A voice calls her name, and she hastily puts out the very against Temple rules cigarette and throws it into a nearby wastebin. “Duty calls. Take it easy,” she gives you a little salute as she makes her way in the direction of the voice.

The smile on your face is weak, and fades when Shoko turns her back. She’s older and more experienced, and has known Geto longer. Still, you can’t shake the feeling of wrongness that has been dogging your steps, and is getting steadily more insistent as Geto continues to withdraw into himself.

Gojo is the next person on your list, but he’s been increasingly more difficult to pin down. Since being Knighted, he has fully come into his powers, and is a darling of all the masters. You hear whispers in the halls, calling him the strongest knight the Order has seen in over six hundred years. He is regularly dispatched on high profile missions and sent as an envoy of the Order to the Senate- you hear his name everywhere but rarely catch a glimpse of the man himself.

You never see him without his blindfold, anymore.

Geto is the moon to Gojo’s sun. He is still respected as one of the strongest of this generation of knights. He takes the missions he’s assigned without complaint. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s going to be back, and you have to make a nuisance of yourself to have any idea where in the galaxy he is. When he is at the Temple, Geto makes an effort to act like things are normal. He laughs and jokes with Shoko, and assists with the training of the younger knights when he can. His smiles don’t reach his eyes, and he still won’t touch you. You’ve reached out to him with the Force, and it’s like there’s an obsidian wall between you, glittering black and diamond hard.

Looking back, you think the catalyst was the Jinata mission. You don’t remember the details, but you vividly remember the pyre.Yu Haibara was your age, a new knight sent on one of his first missions without the supervision of a master. He was outgoing and friendly, liked by everyone around him. Even though the body was covered during the funeral, you could picture his warm brown eyes and bright smile. Kento Nanami, another young knight your age, had gone on the mission with him. His face was badly beaten, the firelight of the pyre flickering across the yellowing edges of bruises that spattered across his elegant features. He was stoic, face set and hands folded in the deep sleeves of his robe. You wished you could offer him a hand, any reassuring touch to soften the grief you could feel roiling off him like a storm cloud.

A few days later, Geto disappeared.

At first, you assumed that he had just followed his normal procedure- taken a mission and left without telling anyone. So you waited, despite the anxiety clawing at your stomach. A week later, you woke up, gasping from a dream filled with so much blood and fire you could taste the iron and smoke on your tongue. You hadn’t been able to make out any faces in the carnage you had witnessed, but your instincts told you that something had happened to Geto, wherever he had gone. You threw yourself into meditations, playing the dream over and over, trying to glean any clarity or information from the chaos. You knew the masters would dismiss this as an anxiety fueled nightmare without proof, so you searched for some kernel of truth that would prove this was a Force premonition.

You were still searching when the news broke. Suguru Geto, Knight of the Jedi Order, a murderer. He hadn’t returned within the time allotted for his mission, so the masters had dispatched a team to investigate. The knights had arrived to find the village Geto had been sent to help burned to ash, and every one of the villagers dead. The damning evidence was the distinctive wounds of a lightsaber blade on the corpses, burned almost beyond recognition.

Flight records showed that Geto’s ship had returned to Coruscant, and the Temple began a manhunt for the rogue knight. Gojo and Shoko joined the search, both of them dropping everything. The masters squawked in indignance at having their most recognizable knight and one of their only healers leave their posts to trawl Coruscant’s underbelly, and in the resulting chaos you were able to slip out and search.

Your abilities made you uniquely qualified for this. Closing your eyes, you reached out to the Force and let it wash over you. The noise of the endless city faded away, and the duracrete jungle bloomed with color as the auras of the people around you came into view. You shuttered your mind against the rising tide of thoughts, focusing your attention, looking for one signature as familiar to you as your own. You cast your net wide, and let yourself float in the sea of noise. You could be patient.

It caught you off guard, when you finally sensed it. A presence, so close to you that you could taste it in the back of your throat. You recoiled at the seething mass of anger and malice, and opened your eyes to see a figure shrouded in black, backlit by the flickering neon at the mouth of the alley you had hidden yourself in. You scrambled to your feet, putting a hand on the hilt of your saber. Before you could make another move, the figure moved, so fast it looked like they teleported the short distance down the alley. One hand caught yours, gently pulling your wrist away from your saber. The other grasped your chin, thumb and forefinger softly but firmly pulling your gaze up to their face.

Under the hood, you met their eyes. Blazing yellow irises, set in familiar fine boned features you’d dreamed about running your fingers over. Geto stood over you, radiating a power that he had kept locked away all your years together at the Temple. You felt your knees weaken under you, and the corner of his lips quirked up as he felt you sag in his grasp.

“Hello, little light,” he murmured, eyes sweeping over your face. “So brave of you, to leave your pretty tower and come looking for the murderer.”

“I don’t believe it,” you bring a hand up to his face, and he lets you touch him. His skin is warm, almost feverish. There is more color to his face than you have seen on his features for a long time, and the bags under his eyes have all but disappeared. All you can look at is his eyes. His deep inky gaze used to draw you in, and now you can’t look away from the burning gold of his irises. “Suguru, please. Tell me it isn’t true,” you beg, hand dropping to rest on his shoulder.

He grabs your hand, flattening your palm over his heart. You can practically feel it racing through the layers of muscle and black robes that now cover his chest. “Look for yourself, little light. All my secrets are finally open to you.”

You close your eyes. It’s not strictly necessary, but you find yourself looking for solace from the way his eyes seem to pick you apart. Taking a deep breath, you focus on the beat of his heart and tap into the Force. Geto fully opens himself to you, and you have to fight to orient yourself as the riptide of his emotions and memories threatens to drag you under. You find yourself choked by feelings that are not your own; grief so sharp it feels like a knife in your ribs, rage that feels like a fire in your throat, and beneath it all a yawning chasm of despair that slowly begins to drown everything else out.

Frantically you search through his memories. His most recent ones are a mess of blood and fire. You recognise the burning structures from your dream, and through his eyes you bear witness to the humming green of his lightsaber blade cutting through villagers.

You feel tears running down your face as you watch the carnage in Geto’s memories. Gasping, you sever the connection, jerking your whole body away from the man in front of you, achingly familiar but now wholly a stranger. He doesn’t let you get far, pulling your hand back to his chest and looping his other arm around your waist, preventing you from pulling away.

“Don’t run away, little light,” he croons, looking down at you as you fight to catch your breath through your tears. “Let yourself feel. You tried so earnestly to reach out to me, to ease my burden. The perfect little Jedi,” he sneered, his face twisting into something ugly for a moment before his features smoothed out again.

“The Order teaches us to be ashamed of feeling anything other than tranquility. They train us to be perfect little emotionless soldiers, ready to fight and die for their cause. How many friends do we have to watch die, how many funerals do we have to attend without being able to grieve?” he smoothed a hand over your hair, cupping your cheek with a gentle hand. “It shouldn’t be like this, little light,” he turns your face to meet his eyes. “We shouldn’t be running around the galaxy, solving every little problem for every person too weak to fend for themselves while being afraid of our own emotions, our own desires.”

“The Force made us strong so we could help the weak,” you counter.

“Why should we be given all this power to only serve those without it?” Geto asks. “Do you truly believe that because you were born with this gift, you are to live your entire life in servitude?” You see a gleam in his eye, a teasing twist to his mouth that sends a shiver down your spine. “Tell me, little light. When was the last time that you did something only because you wanted to? How many chances have you passed by to take something that you want?”

“I know of at least a few,” he purrs, his hand sliding back to the nape of your neck, his lips close enough to yours that you can feel the soft puffs of his breath. “I don’t need your empathy to see the longing glances, the way you would start to reach for me but catch yourself.”

Geto closes the gap between you, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’m right here. You don’t need to stop yourself anymore,” he whispers against your mouth. He’s so close, all it would take is a slight movement of your head. He waits for you to close the gap, and in that moment you think of all of the times you wished to be in this exact position, wrapped up in his arms and a breath away from the kind of kiss you’d only dreamed of.

He is a siren. The promise of his kiss and what it would mean calls to desires long since hidden in your heart. He is offering you everything you’ve wanted, and for a moment, you almost give in.

Almost.

“Not like this,” you whisper against his waiting lips. Calling the Force to you, you blast him back down the alley with the palm still pressed against his chest. You meet his wild eyes and settle into a fighting stance, pulling the hilt of your saber to your hand. The blade ignites with a hiss, the light casting harsh shadows in the dark alley. “Suguru Geto, I must take you in for crimes against the Galactic Republic.”

“So this is how it’s going to be,” he says with a sigh, standing to his full height and running a hand through his hair that had been blown out of its tie by your push. He pulls up the hood of his dark cloak, and steps out of the alley. You run forward, saber in hand, only to be greeted by a busy street of underworld denizens who recoil at the sight of your ignited blade. You frantically search for a trace of your old friend in the crowd. You feel a tug at your neck, as a familiar hand reaches around you to grab the pendant you wear.

“I’ll see you again, little light,” Geto whispers in your ear. He waves at you when you whirl around, your pendant twinkling in his hand, before he fades into the crowd around you.

#jujutsu kaisen #suguru geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #jjk star wars au #if you made it this far mwah ily #thank you for indulging my insanity #kaiawrites

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candeathbereal · 9 months

Text

Astro observations

Placements included are Aries Mercury, Aries Sun, Aries Mars, Taurus Mars, Taurus Moon, and Gemini Mercury.

Aries Mercury

Alright you greedy fucks! Let's get into this. Like many Aries placements there are the general themes of independence, impulsivity, and chaos. I know I come off rude sometimes but that is only because I have said words in the wrong tone. Other times I’m actually trying to be rude. Here is my fun advice for people as a whole: Take a risk and be okay with someone not liking you. If one person doesn’t like you remember there is a dog that will love you more than that person ever could. Now if there are multiple people that actively dislike you, I got nothing. And even then if you're a earth mercury...are you really listening to a fire mercury? I usually get along well with earth placements but earth mercuries are a whole different thing bruh. Taurus mercuries are okay...unless you disagree with them and act like I do in an argument (with passion) because then you better hope their mars isn't in another fixed sign. Idk take what you can from that. I would say something about Virgo and Capricorn mercuries but I haven't really met too many. Plus most Virgo mercuries I have met also have a Leo sun and Taurus moon so it would be wrong of me to really say much about Virgo mercuries since Taurus and Leo placements (together) will dominant your shit most times. Anyways let's move onto the actually rest of the post.

Aries Sun

The pain of being a bad bitch. Lol idk that pain tho. Most post I have seen has labeled us as wild and childish. In actuality tho that is more likely Aries mars than Aries sun. I do wonder if the degree your sun is in affects the expression. It’s actually a moment cause Aries is exalted in the sun placement. I have an Aries sun at the 17th degree which is a Leo degree. Plus I have a Leo rising so I do wonder if that affected me in any way.

Aries Mars

Damn. I don’t have much to say besides please make sure to check on people after you get mad at them. Like it’s okay to feel anger and express it but idk sometimes people get hurt deeply by that expression. I don’t have too much experience with Aries mars people and Scorpio mars people. I can only go off by the two people I have met with either mars sign. Which are my grandma and my mom respectively. I will get into that another post so yeah sorry for the lack of stuff rn.

Taurus Moon

Indulgence. Depending on the sun sign there could be a lot of emotional repression from my experience. I love you guys…unless there is a Leo sun with the Taurus moon. Idk why but I’ve had so many issues with that combo. It isn’t because of the fixed sun fixed moon. My sister is a double Taurus, and my boyfriend is a Scorpio sun Taurus moon. And I love them both very much. I get along great even with other fixed sign sun and moon combos. Leo sun and Taurus moon however…nah.

Honestly I haven't figured out why I'm so erked by Leo sun and Taurus moon. I mean I'm a Leo rising and my MC is in Taurus so I feel like I could be missing something. Anyways Taurus moons are great. I have a lot of respect for you guys and your ability to just defend yourselves when someone says something about you that you know isn't the right thing about you. Even if everyone else in the room agrees with that person your ass is still going "I am not like that and that is that". Even with a prominent libra placements this seems to be a common thing among the Taurus moons I have met. I know someone with a Libra sun, Venus, and Mars and they will stand their ground when it comes to things being placed onto them and their character when they know it isn't right. At first I thought "maybe their Scorpio mercury has something to help with this" but then I remember my dad.

He has a Pisces sun and mercury with a Taurus moon and mars and an Aries Venus I think. If you are just arguing with him on something he is willing to listen to your point and I enjoyed that the most while I was growing up. As an fire dominant person arguing is my way to be vulnerable with people. If I don't trust that you will listen to me or if I don't want to be close to you emotionally, I will just not talk to you. And when I disagree with something you said, I will not just continue on with my day because I don't want to listen to stuff that bores me aka you. Now back to what I was saying about my dad. He and I enjoyed arguing about anything and everything but if I felt overwhelmed by shit he would literally comfort me. So he is okay with stopping a disagreement. Now I bring that up because I have seen him argue with other people and when they try to place a character trait onto him or someone he cared about, he will stand his ground if you are wrong in his eyes. I don't know if that made any sense but honestly that is the only way I can think of describing the thing that I have noticed about Taurus moons.

Taurus Mars

Sometimes I wonder what you guys feel because I can’t really guess what you guys are feeling fully. Especially if you have a mutable moon. Now the two Taurus mars I can think of is my dad and my brother. They both have two Taurus placements each (my dad as said previously has a Taurus moon as well as a Taurus mars, and my brother has a Taurus sun with his Taurus mars). Personally I rarely saw my dad angry but I have seen my brother angry when we were younger. My brother would get red in the face from yelling especially when arguing with our sister. Two Taurus suns with fixed mars refusing to back down...surprising. Now he has calmed down a fuck ton since then. Luckily he doesn't have to be as angry as he used to be.

Gemini Mercury

My besties no matter what you say I will accept the foolishness. Oh and if you have a Gemini Venus as well bruh. I will be chaotic. It is a simple fact that Gemini placements tend to make me go feral, just pure chaos. I think sag mercuries have the same effect on me but I never know how to deal with them properly. Gemini Mercury tho…bitch I’m swinging off that one loose tile on the ceiling…that makes no sense but it doesn’t matter right now. Sometimes I worry about you guys’ mental state but idk maybe you have daddy issues I won’t judge.

#astrology #astrology observations #astro #astro observations #astro posts #aries #gemini #taurus

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stars-n-spice · 2 months

Text

THOUGHTS ON S3 EP 05:

as always, spoilers under the cut and my thoughts are in no way coherent or in the order of how things happen in the episode

it's just me going to be screaming about whatever comes to mind as i type this

holy shit y'all new comfort episode just dropped!

kid you not, after seeing the episode i deadass went, "Wow, I'm so glad that episode didn't absolutely devastate me!" while I was like,, sobbing

whole episode i was either crying, screaming, or punching a pillow

can't even cry anymore, don't got no tears left

ANYWAYS

I AM AN ABSOLUTE FUCKING CLOWN FOR THINKING WE WERE GOING TO GET A PROPER REACTION/CONTINUATION FROM THE LAST EPISODE

OF FUCKING COURSE THEY WERE GOING TO SKIP OVER IT AND JUST,, FUCKING DIVE RIGHT IN. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

what is it with this show and having what would be emotional reactions to heavy things off screen???

fanfic writers you know what to do

anyways,,

Omega being back with Lula :( and her new outfit is so cute I love it so much :((

THEM BEING BACK ON PABU!!!! <3333 and still sleeping in their ship lol

AZI!!!!! HE'S OKAY!!! HE'S ALIVE AND HE'S THERE AND I LOVE HIM AND I MISSED HIM :((

Crosshair practicing :( and his aim just,,, getting worse :(((

CROSSHAIR AND BATCHER ARE SUCH A DUO!! I FUCKING LOVED EVERY MOMENT WITH THE TWO OF THEM,, THE LITTLE PETS AND SMILES CROSS GAVE BATCH UGGHH

will never ever ever ever get over cross and omega's dynamic,, I love them so much and I'm so glad he's back

I don't know how many times i went, "They're all back together!!" in this episode only to remember Tech isn't there and then sob violently

BUT ECHO FINALLY RETURNS - i'm kinda bitter about how he reacted to seeing Omega again because it seemed like,, like he was completely unfazed by the fact she was captured and sent to a hidden facility conducting god know what experiments BUT at the same time,, I could see it being that Echo always knew she was more than capable of escaping on her own so he wasn't too worried but STILL

"What no hug for me?" <- AAGUUHH,, and then the little smirk Crosshair gave after Echo's response,, they have no bad blood, love that

when Crosshair started talking about the facility I fucking KNEW he was talking about Barton IV and i was in so much pain,, agony even

Was NOT expecting them to return but I'm so glad they did because it played such a vital role in Crosshair's growth and returning to it and growing even more,, just,, aguughhh

WHEN HE FOUND MAYDAY'S HELMET,, FUCK FUCK FUCK minutes before that scene i was like "i swear to god if he finds something from Mayday-"

MAYDAY COME BACK YOU DIDN'T DESERVE THAT,, YOU DID SO MUCH :((

Hunter and Cross' dynamic in this was so fun to watch but also had me gnawing on my hands

could NOT get over the fact that they brought the dog with them on the mission, idk why but that's fucking hilarious to me

OMEGA CALLING CROSSHAIR "LITTLE BROTHER" AND CROSS CHUCKLING AT IT SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THEM!!!!!!!!

WHEN WRECKER GAVE CROSSHAIR BACK HIS ARMOR I FUCKING KNEW HE WAS THE ONE WHO KEPT IT AGUUGHHH

god I love Wrecker so much

"Omega trusts him and that's enough for me" FUCK

he wasn't super prominent in this episode but everything he did made me love him more

WHEN HE WAS DIGGING IN THE SNOW?? fucking lost it

THE HUG AT THE END???? FUCKING FINALLY???? THE WAY HE IMMEDIATELY KNEW AND HE JUST,,, FUCK,, RAN UP TO THEM????

like you can tell the whole episode Wrecker was just waiting for the two of them to work things out

i missed all of them so much

it was so good to see them all work together

GOD FUCKING AUGUUHH

THE FIGHT CROSS AND HUNTER HAD??? CROSSHAIR READING HUNTER LIKE A FUCKING BOOK??

when he started to blame Hunter for his failures?? oh fuck as an oldest child that hurt SO much and I was so scared Crosshair was going to pull a "You're the reason why Tech is dead" card

But your honor they are brothers, I love them so much

"i said talk to him, not argue with him!" - "he started it" <- crosshair you cannot beat the youngest brother allegations

hey Crosshair probably didn't tell his brothers about his shaky hands,, ahahahahahaha,aha,,ahh,,,ha..

lmao love that being in a life or death situation and saving each other from it was what made Hunter and Cross start to trust each other

this episode was so great you don't understand

and i'm so happy nothing like,, terrible happened in it

yes I cried a fuckton throughout it but,, at least Omega is still with them and at least Echo is back (for now) and at least they're slowly starting to make up and be a team again

anyways,, nice episode,, can't wait for things to just get worse from here

#tbb #tbb s3 #tbb spoilers #tbb s3 spoilers #the bad batch #bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb omega

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erin-bo-berin · 2 years

Note

hi erin! i have a little request and it just hit me like an epiphany- and yk when those hit and your whole mind becomes occupied with it and starts imagining scenarios- yea like that,, so in this little epiphany-request it’s a little angsty but fluffy and it’s if steve and reader had a messy break up that caused her to move away for college or something, probably after vecna when steve maybe started drawing himself closer to nancy and reader saw it, and maybe that night there was a big blow up argument and the six little nugget topic w nancy came up in it, and they break up. then reader makes a choice to move to college to get a hold of herself, and maybe a year later she comes back for the holidays ‘cause the kids and robin have been pestering her for a while, and when she comes back all the kids + robin, and eddie who didn’t die cause im not mean like the duffer bros, plan a movie night or something and steve hasn’t been told anything so he’s obviously upset and like “why are all of you going together without me?” and he’s arguing cause he’s a big of a territorial bean when it come to his kids, and then after a while max gets rlly annoyed and starts yelling at him for driving her big sister figure out of town and not letting them enjoy a day with her, and he kinda just goes mum because holy shit she’s back and he has half a mind to run to her house -that he drives past every day ignoring the pain in his heart- and beg for your forgiveness ‘cause you left. you left and he didn’t realize how badly he needed you- and idk if this makes sense but maybe when they see each other they just stare and go like the shy hi’s? bonus if reader kept a necklace or smth that he gave him cause he’s just staring at it and he’s gonna burst into tears I know it.

gasps because that made my mind breathless- and like all my requests this is very chaotic ‘cause my thoughts are like dreams, if I don’t pen them down I forget! and i hate that,, please ignore this if you don’t like it and congratulations once more on 5k!! your steve x single!mom verse changed the steve fics for everyone <3 🪐

Gah thank you! I’m really loving this request by the way. This is gonna be so cute and fluffy by the end BUT WAIT there’s gonna be angst of course!

This was just the perfect gif for this LOOK AT THAT PUPPY DOG FACE

All Roads Lead To You

Steve Harrington x Reader

Voices were raised, doors were slammed and hearts were broken that fateful night.

“I have eyes, Steve!” you shouted, “I see how you look at her!”

“Y/N, it’s not like that, I promise!” Steve pleaded with you.

“You told her you saw yourself having kids with her!” you screamed.

When his mouth opened and closed, unable to deny it, you laughed bitterly. Tears were stinging your eyes, but you refused to cry in front of him. He didn’t deserve your tears.

“Yeah. Nancy told me. At least someone has the decency to tell me the truth.”

You were angry and hurt. You wanted Steve to hurt as much as you were. You’d spent the entire week watching your boyfriend with his ex-girlfriend. There was still something there, as much as it pained you to admit it. A person would have to be blind to miss that.

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?” you whispered.

His eyes, looking as defeated as you felt.

“I’m with you though, Y/N.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you said, pressing your lips together in a tight line.

You were practically grinding your teeth to a dust to try and keep from crying. You weren’t enough for Steve if he apparently was still in love with Nancy.

“I don’t know if I am, okay?”

He threw his hands up in exasperation.

“It’s not like I’ve cheated on you! I never would!”

You knew he was right, but this was almost worse. How much lower can one feel when they find out that the person they love doesn’t love you the same? You told him just as much.

“But it’s almost worse, Steve. How would you feel if you watched me getting close to my ex again? Probably like a knife to the heart, huh?”

He was quiet again.

“You basically admitted you wanted to marry her!”

“I know, I know. It just…came out,” he winced.

“Oh that’s rich,” you huffed, “Let me just go find Eddie and profess my undying love to him while we’re at it.”

“That’s not fair and you know it,” he scowled.

“Well now you know how I feel,” you crossed your arms, glaring at him, “Not to mention she’s in a relationship too, Steve! How is that fair to her either?”

“I don’t know, okay? I wasn’t really thinking,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Be honest with me. Have you ever really be invested in this relationship or was I just a distraction from her?”

“How could you even think that? You know I love you!” Steve grimaced.

“It’s hard to tell anymore,” you frowned, crossing your arms, looking away from him.

Just when you thought he couldn’t shatter your heart anymore, he succeeded in doing just that.

“Maybe…maybe we should see other people,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah. Maybe we should,” you replied bitterly.

That is how the best relationship you’d ever had came to a horrifying, heartbreakingly abrupt ending.

•

You ended up moving away for college after your split from Steve. It hurt way too much to stay in Hawkins, having to run into him.

You have no idea what happened with him and Nancy. She was dating Jonathan after all, but who knows? Not that you cared. You threw yourself into studying, into parties, into work, anything that would help you forget about Steve, forget about Hawkins.

Summer break was coming up soon and you still hadn’t figured out your plans yet. Your roommate had invited you to vacation with her and her family, but you hated to be an imposition.

One phone call changed your course though.

You were studying for finals and had come to a much needed place for a break when the phone in your dorm rang. Your eyes were aching and had began to cross from staring at your text books for so long. You sighed in relief, even grateful for a telemarketer at this point.

Leaning across your bed, you grabbed the receiver, bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Well, look who’s alive!”

You smiled at the familiar, teasing lilt of your friend Robin.

“Hey, Robin,” you smiled, sitting back against your pillows.

“You don’t call, you don’t write, I’m starting to feel insulted, Y/N!” came a voice from the background.

You laughed, hearing Eddie’s complaints.

“I haven’t called for two weeks, not two years,” you chastised him.

“It’s been too long either way,” Robin said, “Oh the kiddos want to say hi.”

“Hi!”

“Y/N I miss you!”

“Come home already!”

“Hi Y/N!”

A chorus of mixed voices were faint over the line, but by the volume, you assumed that Robin had held the receiver up for the group.

“Hi guys,” you chuckled, “Tell them I miss them too.”

“She says she misses you guys too,” you heard Robin say, “Not sure why when you drive us crazy here.”

You laughed again, feeling a pang of homesickness. As much hurt that Hawkins had left you with, you missed the great group of friends you had. You’d especially missed the phone calls lately.

“Two weeks though? I was going insane thinking you died or something!” Robin exclaimed dramatically.

“I’m sorry, finals are coming up and I’ve been cramming for them. I’ve been living in either a state of stress or exhaustion when I’m not studying or sleeping.”

“You’ll ace them, I know it,” Robin replied, sounding certain, “Besides, then you can come home to us!”

You fingered the necklace that you always wore, even now. It was a simple heart locket that rested coolly against your skin as if it always belonged there. Steve had given it to you for your one year anniversary. You didn’t have the strength to part with it and the comfort it brought you to still wear it was surprising, considering you tried hard not to think about Steve.

“I don’t know…” you hedged, “I haven’t quite figured out what I’m going to do for summer break. My roommate invited me to go to Tahiti with her and her family.”

“Well Tahiti doesn’t have us, missy.”

You could hear the sass in her voice and it made you chuckle.

“That’s true.”

“Do I have to call in reinforcements to convince you to come home?”

You didn’t even have a chance to respond before you heard the chorus of voices pleading and begging with you.

“Please!” Max and El.

“Yes come home we miss you!” Dustin.

“Hawkins sucks with out you!” Lucas.

“I think I forget what you even look like, it’s been so long.” Mike.

“Please come home for the summer?” Will.

“Honestly, who’s gonna keep this kids in line if it isn’t you?” Eddie.

Robin knew your weak spot, that’s for sure.

“Well?” Robin pressed, coming back on the line.

“Okay, okay. I guess I’m coming home for summer break,” you relented.

You had to hold the receiver away from your ear at the shrieks and whoops of joy that came from the other end.

“You won’t regret it, I promise,” you could hear the smile in Robin’s voice.

“Hey, Robin? Could I talk to you alone for a moment?”

You heard her murmur something to the others and you heard a door click, so you assumed she’d moved to a more private place.

“If you’re going to ask how Steve is, he’s the same as always.”

You sighed.

“I’m that predictable, huh?”

“Pretty much,” she answered baldly.

“As much as I hate it, I still care about him,” you replied glumly.

“You don’t hate it, Y/N,” Robin said gently, “Honestly, I’d be more concerned if you didn’t care about him still.”

“Is he…seeing anyone?” you asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Out of the handful of times you’d asked Robin how Steve had been doing, you’d never asked if he was dating. But now, knowing you were returning to Hawkins in a few short weeks, you found yourself curious. You told yourself you were just preparing for the worst in case you ended up seeing him with Nancy or worse, another girl.

“If you mean Nancy, nah. That never happened. She’s still with Jonathan,” she answered nonchalantly, like she was giving you the latest weather report, “And before you ask, there’s no other girl either. He’s practically turned into a monk and it’s weird.”

You didn’t know how to digest all that information, so you did what you did best: ignore it.

“How’s work going?” you asked her, twirling the cord of the phone around your finger.

“If you think I didn’t notice your swift change of subject, I did. But since you’re my best friend, I’ll overlook it,” she huffed, “It’s going alright. Nothing exciting.”

You spent the next hour on the phone chatting with her about anything and everything. By the time you’d hung up the phone, your wariness about returning to Hawkins had dissipated.

It would do you good to see your friends.

•

It was Friday night and Steve couldn’t find any of his friends anywhere.

Nor could he get ahold of them.

He’d tried all the usual spots after he’d closed up after his shift at Family Video. He tried the mall, the arcade, the diner, even the Wheeler’s house—where the gang usually congregated. No luck.

Before he’d left work, he’d tried calling Robin. Then Eddie. Then Dustin. He even tried the Sinclair’s house and Max. Either they didn’t pick up or their respective families had told him they weren’t there.

He was absolutely mystified, especially when he found them all at Dustin’s house, having a movie night. Without him.

He was trying not to be hurt as he loved movie night with his friends.

“What are all you guys doing here and why didn’t I get an invite?” he frowned, “Also, I called you before I left work and you didn’t answer!”

He pointed an accusatory finger at Dustin who shrugged.

“Sorry, dude. We just got here.”

“Where have you been?” Steve asked, glancing around at them.

They all avoided his gaze and his suspicions rose.

“We had some errands to run,” Eddie shrugged, nonchalantly.

“Errands,” Steve repeated, dubiously.

They all gave him noncommittal shrugs and grunts.

“So were you just going to casually forget to invite me for movie night?” he folded his arms over his chest, giving them what they teasingly called his parental glare.

“We couldn’t, okay?” Lucas said, shrugging.

He was even more confused.

“What do you mean you couldn’t?”

“We promised we wouldn’t,” Robin clarified, though it cleared up nothing at all for him.

“Because we wanted to spend a night with Y/N and she wouldn’t have come if you were here,” Max snapped, fire in her eyes, “I haven’t seen her in a year, none of us have and I’ll be dammed if I let you ruin me seeing the best big sister I’ve never have just because you were an asshole that broke her heart. You may have suffered, but so have we because we miss our friend.”

His head was reeling. You were here? In Hawkins? How did he not know that?

“She’s here?” he asked, finding it hard to breathe.

“Well not yet, but-”

Dustin’s reply was cut off by the sound of the front door shutting.

“Sorry I’m late guys! I stopped by the store to grab some boxes of popcorn so we can-”

Your words faltered as quickly as you froze in place, seeing who was standing in the middle of the Henderson’s living room. You’d been insistent that you didn’t want to see Steve, but now that he was here…you were kinda glad.

Steve’s heart stopped. He was sure of it. There was no oxygen reaching his brain or his lungs. Nothing mattered but seeing you. You looked incredible, like you always did. You had that effortless beauty that he loved because you never truly grasped how beautiful he thought you were—are. Your lips were parted in a surprised “oh”, but the word never made its way past your lips.

My god, your lips. He missed them so much. Obviously he missed you in general, but he never realized how for granted he took the kisses shared with you. Whether it was gentle, passionate kisses, searing, desire filled ones or even the perfunctory peck when leaving or arriving, he realized more than ever in that moment how much he missed kissing you.

Apparently, he’d lost the ability to speak as well as he just stared, dumbfounded at you. You hadn’t changed much in a year, though your hair was now shorter, like you’d just recently cut it. He loved it, it brought even more attention to your pretty face.

You had an obscene amount of microwave popcorn boxes in the grocery bags in your hands—then again with this crowd it was like feeding 50 people, not eight.

“Hi,” you whispered, still stunned by his presence.

“Hi,” he whispered back.

He wanted to tell you that he regretted breaking up with you.

He wanted to tell you that he missed you so fucking much.

He wanted to tell you that letting you go was the worst thing he ever did, that he needed you in his life, by his side, so much.

He wanted to tell you how many times he’d drove past your house in the last year, pain slicing his chest like an ice blade ripping it open. He knew it was all his fault you were gone, but somehow, driving by your house was as peaceful as it made him full of sorrow. While you’d been gone, that’d been all he had left of you, that small sliver.

But now, here you were and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

When his eyes landed on the silver heart locket on your chest, he lost all pretenses of holding it together as tears sprung to his eyes. You’d kept the necklace he’d given you. You were still wearing it.

His eyes met yours and you saw the realization in his. He saw the affirmation in yours. You’d kept wearing his necklace around your neck, quite literally a symbol of you still having his heart.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said hesitantly, “I have a lot of things to say that I think you should hear.”

You said nothing, but it was the small smile that gave him hope. He would hold on to that thread for as long as it took you because if he was ever lucky enough to win you back, he was never going to let you go again.

After all, somehow, your road had led you back to him.

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