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captainpulisic · 5 months

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you dream of my mouth - m. mount

a/n - this is for my baby s, you made me the happiest girl ever today- oh, and molly for manifesting it

wc: 2.5k gif creds to owner

whoever has the fucking audacity to be knocking at your door at two in the morning just made their way to the top of your enemy list. you stifle a yawn as you reach the door, who's even awake at this time?

slightly raising your tiptoes, you look through the peephole at the inconsiderate person who clearly doesn’t care about you getting your beauty sleep. yet the person you see has your eyes widening and falling to the ground, out of sight.

as if he could see you.

you’re sure you must still be dreaming. this has to be some sort of too realistic hallucination. you must be still tucked into bed, having the weirdest dream of your life. because why else would mason fucking mount be at your doorstep after months of no contact?

there was no reason for him to be here. after signing and transferring to manchester, he had wasted no time in breaking up with you, reasoning that long distance never really worked. after that and too far away from his former life, he was quick to be papped with new girls every other week. it made you miserable, seeing how quick he was to move on, to be so open about his newest flings. you, on the other hand, had some decency to be on the downlow about the guys you began to date- or tried to date, anyway. none of them managed to stick, falling victim to you comparing them to mason. they just weren’t him. and you hated how quick you were to dismiss them over that.

catching your breath, you gain the courage to look through, again. your eyes hadn’t been deceiving you, it really was him. it was a blurry and disoriented lense but from what you can make out, he looks disheveled and quite a mess. his hair looks tousled, as if he had been continuously tugging at it.

you remember that had always been a nervous habit of his. and a habit of yours had become swatting his hands away, replacing them with your own as you tried to style his hair back into place. oh, how your hands were itching to do it right now. to run your fingers through it and feel him lean into your touch.

it had been ages since that’d happened.

your heart wasn’t giving your brain no time to think because before you knew it, you were unlocking and opening the door.

and there mason stood, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. he tried to take a step towards you, stumbling in the process. he braced himself against the door frame, trying to balance himself as he mumbled your name. and you curse yourself for pulling him towards yourself, giving him some extra support. slurring his words, “tell me it isn’t true.”

great, you sigh. he’s drunk.

“ben told me that he saw you out today,” he manages to mumble. your body freezes when his hand reaches up to cradle your jaw. and your heart speeds up when his thumb begins to swipe at your bottom lip. his eyes shift from your own eyes down to your lips, “that he saw out with some guy, saw you kissing him. ‘s not fair, it was me you were kissing not too long ago y’know?”

he always did get clingy when drunk. you’re too weak to shove him away but not weak enough to bite back, “until you left.”

you see the words register, as his eyes show a flash of hurt. the corner of his mouth slightly dips, as he shakes his, trying to forget about the night he idiotically let you go.

“oh, ‘m sorry I left, pretty girl.” after a moment of eyes sweeping all over your face, his lips turn upwards, into a dopey smile. with his hand still cupping your jaw, he begins to swipe at your bottom lip again. “but i’m back now.”

you’re certain your face is burning red, legs already turning to jelly. thank god he’s still technically holding you up or you’re certain you’d be on the floor by now. you curse him for having this effect on you and curse yourself for still falling for it. your problem had always been being too weak around him.

he waits for you to throw a sarcastic quip, or even to tell him to ‘fuck off’, but all he gets from you are blushing cheeks and an averted gaze. taking this as a good sign, he leans in to leave a kiss at the corner of your mouth. pulling pack to check your reaction, he grins when he sees your closed eyes and ghost of a smile.

from there, he plants a few more open mouthed kisses on your cheek, always going back to the corner of your mouth in between each one. never on your lips, though- just slight brushes over them. the damned bastard won’t give you the satisfaction too easily. when he feels your lips begin to chase his, desperate to taste him again, he disappears once more. with the hand cupping your jaw, he lightly tilts your face upward, giving himself plenty of access to focus on your neck.

you’re about to protest from the lack of actual kissing you’ve received but quickly bite your own tongue when you feel him leave a small bite at the crook of your neck. he presses a peck to the same spot, marveling at the fast forming bruise. mason hums, “there, the way it should be.”

he fails to see you roll your eyes at his possessive antics, too busy refamiliarizing himself with the crook of your neck. it’s a trail of kisses from the curve of your shoulder to the space behind your ear, a few bites given in between. hearing your breathy sighs, he takes it as reaffirmations to continue. so he kisses your neck and jaw and cheek (anywhere but your actual mouth, really- which becomes quite frustrating!), again and again and again.

finding his way back up to your face, he comes to a halt when he’s eye level with you. as if seeing each other for the first time again, under happier circumstances, there’s a doe-eyed fondness in both your eyes and matching lovesick smiles.

decidedly having had enough of his teasing, your hands find their way to the sides of his stubble filled cheeks. it’s all so fast as your lips finally meet masons, finding a rhythm that’s all too familiar. it was soft, yet deep and heated. it was the making up of months without each other, being desperate to fill in for the lost time. instantly, you taste the alcohol that has him acting so brazen. both your hands were desperate, tugging and pulling at each others clothes. his hands have found their way to the hem of your shirt, feeling the warm skin of your hips. closing your eyes, your arms drop down to his shoulders, around his neck, pulling him flush against yourself. and you felt a tinge of satisfaction every time he moaned into the kiss.

his lips never leaving yours, he began to guide you backward, still knowing the layout of your flat without having to look. when you felt the back of your legs hit the couch, you let mason push you down to lay on it. in an instant, he followed you down and was on you. again, his mouth was all over you. neck, jaw, lips, cheeks and repeat.

you come somewhat back to your senses when you feel his fingers nimbly trying to unbutton your blouse. he finds it a difficult feat due to his still inebriated state.

how often did he find himself in this predicament with all the girls he had been out with recently? your horrid, sensible mind question itself. all those girls that he’s papped with, how many of them end up on his couch? did any of them naively think they’d be the ones to finally lock him and his heart down, just as you had?

the thought of it made you nauseous.

you couldn’t fall victim to him, not again. if you gave yourself to him once more, watching him leave would utterly destroy you. the possibility of history repeating itself, of him leaving and parading his latest conquest back in manchester, would be your death. you’re not sure you’d recover this time and you don’t want to see it through to find out.

“mase- wait,” your heart feels betrayed by your mind, as you find the strength to lightly shove his shoulders.

you see the confusion in his eyes as he peers down at you. holding himself up with his forearms, careful not to squish you, “is something wrong?”

you try to voice your pesky worries but you can’t seem to find the words. instead, you just shake your head as you begin to detangle yourself from him. you can see the confusion etched on his face but nonetheless, he silently mirrors your actions, unsure of when the night had taken a turn. it’s an awkward maneuver of limbs and loud silence.

he had been positive everything was going to go his way tonight. truth be told, when ben had told him he had seen you out on a date with some guy, he had seen red. he was aware of how hypocritical he was being but the high volume of drinks he had drunk were making him think his childish tantrum was reasonable. taking another shot for good measure, he called a cab and made his way to your place.

he wasn’t sure what his endgame was when you opened the door, if you even opened it. he wanted to confront you for moving on. he wanted to apologize for leaving and ruining the loveliest relationship he’d ever had. he wanted you to apologize for snogging some loser who wasnt him, out in the open where anybody could see. he wanted to apologize if he ever made you think any of those girls meant what you had to him.

each knock to your door, his mind flashed to those flings he had been stupid enough to have. with every knock, he felt a sudden urgency to let you know that they amounted to nothing. you needed to know of the few occasions these girls left, annoyed and offended that he had accidentally said your name instead. that no girl made his tummy feel as fuzzy as you did, no one came close. maybe it wasn’t the wisest thing to do but his intoxicated, hazy brain had to tell you that most nights, he’d fall asleep to dreams of you.

too wrapped up in his thoughts, you clearing your throat snapped him back to the present. your eyes glued to the floor “i’m going to call ben to pick you up, okay?”

what? why? masons mouth feels too dry. he’s at a loss for words. he hadn’t told you half of the things he wanted to and now you were kicking him out. he was sure his shock would sober him up.

as you stand up from the couch to go retrieve your phone, all he can do is helplessly stare at your retreating figure. he had so much to tell you and his brain was failing him. that last shot was a mistake, not a confidence booster as he had thought.

when you come back into the room, he’s able to catch the ending of you saying, “alright, see you soon.”

you make a point on sitting on the other side of the couch, putting some distance between the two of you.

no, he wants to whine. I don’t want to leave. I wanna be with you and kiss you and your pretty mouth. I fall asleep dreaming of it.

all he can slur out, “I wanna kiss you, again.”

it pains you to say, “mason, no.”

“why not?” he pouts, a sad look in his eyes. he reaches for your hand that had been folded in your lap, the hand that had been itching to touch him again. rubbing his thumb along it, “you used to love kissing me.”

“until you left me and started kissing other girls,” you bite back. you know it’s not a fair fight, him not fully there to defend himself. and then you feel even worse as you watch his face fall.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a small voice, “I never should’ve left.”

it’s useless to argue, he won’t even remember this in the morning. you sigh, “forget it, ben will be here soon.”

resigned, mason nods and leans back to sit on the couch. the silence is deafening and all he wants to do is kiss you. why won’t you let me kiss you? his brain wants to shout.

as the clock ticks on the wall, he feels his eyes grow tired by the minute. he hoped ben would get lost and he’d be forced to spend the night. he didn’t care if nothing physically happened between the two of you, just being in your proximity would leave him content.

the thought of it makes him let out a soft chuckle, with a yawn following close by. and on your side of the couch, you let your eyes wander towards him. it hurts having so close yet with the knowledge that you’ll never have him again, not truly. tomorrow he'll be on his way back to his new home with new girls waiting for him.

no, it’s better this way you try to reassure yourself.

hearing another yawn escape him, you allow yourself to fully look at him. offering a small smile, “rest, i’ll wake you when ben gets here.”

“I don’t wanna,” another yawn, “I need to tell you so much.”

“you can tell me some other time.”

“but what if you don’t ever wanna talk another time,” his voice is sad and a bit sleepy. he’s about to fall into slumber any second now, you remember the signs of it. eyes slightly closing then opening, “and you need to know.”

you catch yourself whispering, “know what?”

he leans his head back further into the couch cushion. his words come out all mumbled together but you’re able to hear a faint ‘mouth’.

“hmm?”

“your mouth, your pretty mouth”, more inaudible whispers, “I dream of it all the time.”

“mase,” you're cut off by a knock at the door. clearly timing had never been on either of your sides. when you look back at him, you’re met with his peaceful, resting face. maybe this was for the better. and as you let ben in and simply watch him half-carry mason to his car, your heart inexplicably aches. there was a sense of finality to the situation, an unspoken final goodbye. this time tomorrow, he’d be back in his new life and you’d have to start with your new life. it was over and you had to come to terms with it

this was kinda rushed but needed to celebrate the exciting day,, like always, feedback is very much appreciated!

#mason mount fic #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount #songfic

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mrzombielover · 2 months

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Hello! Perchance, ur request is still open? I'd love your take on something that's been rattling in my brain. If you can't disregard the rest of the message, no worries! 😊 Human!Adam x Angel!Reader, I'd love an obsessed Adam who grew close to the reader after the fallout of his relationship with the trio (Luci, Lilith, and Eve). After being kicked out of Eden, he separates from Eve for years which is when he meets, well, you.

omg hi yes reqs are open!! everyone reading this pls send me more adam stuff the brainrot is realll and i need him in a way that’s concerning to feminism

also i just wanted to say thank you again for all the kind words you leave on my slow ride series it is so sweet and motivating :,)))))

warnings: none || wc: 842

When everyday in heaven is a perfect day, you tend to find yourself becoming bored. You fulfill your duties, chitchat with the other angels, eat your fill of the sweetest fruits and lay to sleep on the softest clouds. You can sunbathe, go for a swim, see your closest friends however much you prefer. Heaven is, well, perfect- it was designed to be. Everyone else is perfectly satisfied, you should be perfectly satisfied.

So why do you find your mind wandering?

When everything is perfect, you’ve found lately that you’re lacking a sense of fulfillment. Of purpose. And above all else, you’re bored.

This is when your habit started. It’s harmless, really, you just had an itch of curiosity that needed to be scratched. Sure, your job had basically nothing to do with the humans on earth, but they were so fun to watch.

There’s not many of them right now, but they’re all so fascinating, especially the little ones. You couldn’t fathom it, being mortal. Originally, you thought they lived such trivial lives, but upon closer inspection, they’re not so different from your own.

After the fall, they’re completely separated from you now. You wish there was a way for you to let them know that there were still angels watching over them.

Your favorite, though, is Adam. After eating the fruit of knowledge, he’s different. As to be expected, though, when he suddenly has knowledge of good and evil, concepts he couldn’t even fathom before.

He’s funny. It’s terrible, some of the things he says, and even worse that you find it amusing. He’s charming, in a way.

One day, you just can’t help yourself anymore. It hurts you to see them struggle. Since leaving the garden, they’ve known pain and suffering. Struggle. Hunger. And though you’ve never experienced those yourself, the thought brings you sadness. You can’t imagine suffering so, and there’s a sense of guilt because you know that you have the power to make things easier for them.

You feel such pity, watching them, so far away, as they lament about missing the garden. Adam says that, most of all, he misses the fruit. The berries here never seemed to be as sweet.

It’s no coincidence when, not long after, he discovers a bushel of all the fruits he’d missed. It nearly brings him to tears when he takes a bite, the sweetness on his tongue and juices rolling down his chin. And it’s not much, but the pride that blooms in your chest as you watch is the best thing you’ve felt in millennia.

So you leave more gifts for them. You ought to be more careful, you’re pretty sure you could get in trouble for this. But if you’re not actually talking to them it’s fine, right? That’s just a line you won’t cross.

“Holy fuck-“ You dropped the basket you were holding. “It’s you!”

That startled you. How had a human managed to sneak up on you??

“I knew it-!”

You quickly shush him, looking around anxiously.

“I’m really not supposed to be here,” You say quietly, but you crack a small smile. He smiles, too.

You straighten up, and you mean to leave, but then he grabs your arm.

“Wait!” You can feel the blood pumping beneath his mortal flesh against the skin of your arm, what a strange feeling. “You have to leave already?”

You pause, biting the inside of your cheek as you consider it. Oh, you really shouldn’t. But you’re missing the warmth from his touch on your arm already.

Though you know it’s wrong in every sense of the word, you figure a few minutes couldn’t hurt. So you sit with him. You tell him about heaven, how every day is perfect, how one day he’ll forget what any of this feels like. And he tells you about Lilith and Eve, and how lonely he is down here. You tell him you wish you could fix that, frustrated by your own incompetence.

“Trust me, you’ve done enough,” He laughs, but hes putting a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. The touch is innocent, but it (embarrassingly) takes a great effort to keep your wings still.

Adam doesn’t move his hand away this time, and you cautiously raise your hand and put it over his. You turn to look at his face, and his eyes flicker briefly to your lips.

Then he leans closer to you, and presses his lips against your own, in the same way you’ve watched other humans do. It’s an odd sensation, he’s so warm, and causes a feeling you’ve never felt to stir in your chest. and this time, your wings do flutter.

you’re utterly speechless when he pulls away, already longing for his touch again. but you’ve already spent too much time here, and on top of all the rules you’ve broken lately, that was probably a big one.

you stand up hastily, and you feel a pang of sadness at the look on his face.

“I’ll see you again, I promise,”

He can’t wait.

reblogs + comments greatly appreciated :)

#ooops looking back this is a bit different than ur request i hope it’s still ok lol #adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #!asks #!my stuff #first man adam #first man adam x reader #hazbin hotel

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sinful-lanterns · 4 months

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The Garden, my beloveds.

Just imagine Coquelic keeping you in a cute little collar and leash that Garofano made for you. Such a spoiled little pet you'd become. We know how the women of the Garden serve Coquelic, so it would hardly be much of a difference to them to extend that to you as well. Joining her your owner in the bath becoming a regular occurrence and how you always seem ro leave baths with more bite marks and hickies then when you went in.

And between them, whenever one needs to leave to take care of something, the others are there to keep you distracted. I don't think they would let such a cute girl like you know what it is they do when they leave, that's much too scary for their sweet girl! No no, much better to stay with them, to focus on Coquelic's wandering tongue at your throat, or resting against Sumire so she can enjoy your warmth, or playing dress up with Garofano.

And when they get arrested by the MBCC? Well, it would simply be the organizations best interest to bring you along too. Wouldn't want such a dangerous trio of women to be getting angrier and angrier, just because they don't have their sweet pet, now do we? All of them suddenly becoming feircly protective of you, so many scary people around their sweet baby, no they wouldn't let anyone so much as lay a finger tip on you. Save for maybe the Chief, who gets a particular exception after all three come to trust them more.

The other Sinners must be so jealous of the sight. Just sweet and adorable you following the three women around like a loyal puppy, getting passed between their laps to be showered in all the love and affection you could want. None missing the way you suddenly appear, completely covered head to toe in bites and hickies, far far more then normal, after the most recent visit from Rahu and Shalom.

Yea.... I might think about the Garden women... maybe just a little.

I am…drooling a little bit over this ask 🤤

Something about Reader being a cute, compliant little pet that tails after Coquelic, Garofano and Sumire is scratching the itch in my brain so well… I imagine that all three women love to spoil you so, and in turn, it’s caused the MBCC some issues when they finally detained the women for being sinners. Coquelic probably came hissing and scratching for her cute little pet to join her at the Bureau when she was shackled, and poor Chief had no choice but to take you along with them, as the three Garden assassins were not having it being separated from you 🥺

nsfw under the cut

After a brutal back and forth argument between Coquelic and the Chief, the Chief had no other choice but to detain you as well, for fear that her Garden sinners would come for her head if she refused. A bit apologetic for detaining you as you did nothing wrong, the Chief was surely surprised when you came running up to your owners rather eagerly. With Coquelic, Garofano and Sumire smothering you in affectionate kisses right at the entrance.

It was clear that the four of you had a very close bond, so Chief allowed you to stay in either Coquelic’s, Garofano’s, or Sumire’s cells when it came to sleeping over for the night. You’d routinely take turns sleeping with each women throughout the week depending on how much they wanted you, but Coquelic was usually the woman you most often stayed with, as she was the most possessive and the most needy.

Every time you’d spend the night at one of these three women’s cells, expect to have a 70% chance of being fucked, as these women have quite the high libidos. You’d think Garofano and Sumire were women who’d most likely be able to keep it in their pants, but you’d be wrong. They love you, and they want to show it off to you whenever they get the chance. Which would most often them not lead to you being tied up and fucked out of your mind.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. The Garden Sinners are very much into bondage. All three of them in fact, as it is common to find you with rope markings whenever you step out of their cells in loose or slightly revealing attire. All the sinners in the Bureau (plus Chief and Nightingale) are painfully aware of what happens to you whenever you spend the night at a Garden assassin’s room, but aside from the jealous stares and blushes that show their arousal, no one says anything for fear of Coquelic coming for their head…

Speaking of Sinners, some of them get a bit jealous over the trio having such a cute, submissive pet tailing their every move. Some of which have tried getting close to you (Namely Bai Yi, Shalom, and Chelsea) and were promptly met with an angry Coquelic, or a knife slamming way too close to their face.

Shalom especially, as that woman got on Coquelic’s nerves the most. If Coquelic ever saw Shalom sitting close to you, trying to swoon you over with sweet words and caresses to your hair, Coquelic gets pissed the fuck off and snatches you away as quickly as she can.

In conclusion, Coquelic, Garofano, and Sumire are all like possessive cats when it comes to you. They are capable of sharing you amongst themselves, yet when it comes to the other Sinners…well…

The Chief would have to use her shackles often 😅

#⛓️ mbcc lovepost #path to nowhere #path to nowhere smut #ptn #ptn smut #coquelic smut #coquelic x reader #garofano smut #garofano x reader #sumire smut #sumire x reader

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bettysupremacy · 2 years

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Sleepless Nights Like These

Steve Harrington x fem! Reader

Summary: When Steve is lonely, and can’t sleep, he thinks about his girl, and everything he loves about her. Though a late night visit from his favorite girl always makes things better.

Warnings: none I think? Like one mention of a strip tease as a joke, one curse word I think, it’s literally just fluff. Overbearing and tooth rotting fluff. Literally sick to my stomach while posting this cause I want it so bad.

1.5k words ☻

Steve’s favorite place to receive her kisses were right under his ear, on the tender malleable skin that always felt oh-so sensitive. He loved how her lips molded into it, the way it sent tingles up his jaw, the way each of the kisses were long and thought out.

He knew she loved them too, but definitely no more than him.

He wished he could take that feeling, preserve it, hold it close to himself on the nights he couldn’t see her. He’d keep it tight in a Mason Jar, in Tupperware, between pages of a book like pressed flowers, if it meant he got to pull it out and have it on nights like these.

His fingers itch to grab his phone.

He loved the way she loved his voice. Talking, singing, whispering. He knew she wished she could record everything he said and replay it back in her Walkman, she’d told him herself.

She’d stare at him with these dopey lovesick eyes when he sang, heart squeezing satisfactorily when he’d lazily look down at her. He wouldn’t normally sing, but when his girl asks for a song, she’s getting a song. They’d lay in bed and she’d feed his ego these big bites he didn’t know if it could swallow.

“Your rasp changed my life.” She’d said, and he believed her.

He loved the nights, like last night, where she’d beg him to drive her outside Hawkins city, to somewhere the blinding streetlights couldn’t reach. She’d show him the constellations she saw through the misty morning air, on her walk to the bus that morning. Steve doesn’t care that he can almost never see them, he’ll let her grab his outstretched arm and guide his pointed index finger where she wants him to look.

“Do you see those dots?”

“Yes.” He’d been lying.

“Those make up Orion’s Belt.”

“Who’s Orion?” He’d pushed. It was his way of begging her to keep talking.

“Orion was a huntsman who-“

He loved the little notes she would slip into his lunch bag. He’d pretend he didn’t see her sneak it in there before she had to leave for school.

“Nancy’s driving me to school today!” She’d yelled by the front doors, and he gave it a moment before he came into the foyer, giving her time to stuff the colored paper into the bag.

They were often no more creative than the greeting cards he’d see at Melvald’s general store, but they were greater by far. He’d make himself wait till lunch to read them, give himself something to look forward to, but he’d be itching to read them all day.

I love you!

Have a good day Stevie!

Don’t get on Robins bad side, I love you!

He’d keep them in his pocket for the rest of the day, thumbing at it. The message staying in the forefront of his brain until he saw her next. He kept them in a spare brown bag up in his closet hiding away, he could never find the strength to throw them into the family video bin.

He wished she were here now, laying in bed with him. Nothing dirty, he needs to clarify. He wants her to push his hair back and to beg him to keep scissors away, to tell him for the millionth time don’t shave the mustache.

He grabs the phone quickly, split decision before he can change his mind, dialing in her number. It rings 3 times before he checks the time. 12:34 blinks at him brightly. Shit, he should’ve-

“Hello?” His girlfriends groggy voice comes from the other side.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up, sweetheart?”

“Good morning, Stevie.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He hears the click of her lamp. “Why’re you calling so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Could I help?”

“This is helping.” He tells her honestly.

“Could I come over and help in person?”

“You can’t walk here at midnight, because your dickhead boyfriend cant sleep.”

“Don’t call yourself that.” He can hear her shuffling around her room, “We live two houses away from each other.”

He huffs, giving up the small argument — this is what he had wanted. “I’m gonna wait outside for you.”

“You can if you want.”

“I do.”

He hangs up, jogging downstairs quickly so he can be outside before she leaves her house. The cool night air nips at his skin, settling a chill of goosebumps over his arms and thighs. He really should’ve put a shirt on. Or pants.

“Is this strip tease for me?”

He turns, watching her hop down her front porch steps. She giggles at his horrified face.

“We have neighbors!”

She shrugs, pulling her coat closer as she checks the empty street for cars. “The Wilsons are on vacation.”

“And the Clifton’s?”

“On vacation with the Wilson’s.”

Steve gasps, “And we weren’t invited?”

She walks into his outstretched arms, letting him wrap himself around her. “I’d hope not, they’re weird.”

“They are weird.” He agrees.

She leans up on her tip toes, grabbing his jaw in both her hands so she could kiss under his ear. He leans into her touch, gripping her waist tighter as he fights to bottle the feeling, so he can remember it later.

They’ve never talked about it. The ear kisses. It wasn’t something you needed to talk about, something you needed to discuss. They were uniquely them.

His eyes droop sleepily and he stressfully rubs at them, hoping she didn’t see the way his blinking stalled.

“What’re we doing tonight?” He bends down and nips at her jaw.

“Getting you to sleep?”

“The fun way?” He murmurs into the kisses he just worked down her neck.

She draws from his touch, pushing him away, though she can’t hide the giddy smile from his affection. He looks down at her, pulling her closer by her forearms. His smile is saccharine sweet as he watches her abashed nose wrinkle.

“Was it something I said?” He muses, chasing her eyes. When she doesn’t answer Steve, he pokes her sides. “Hm?”

She giggles, peels of them getting lost in the dark night. “Nothing you said.”

“Oh, okay, I was getting worried.”

She shakes her head, bubbly giggles dying down. It’s cold out here, so cold, and Steve is still in his boxers. He pulls her in again, wrapping his arms around her and nosing at the juncture where her neck meets her shoulder. She smells like her chamomile body wash.

“I’m cold.”

“Baby,” She wraps her arms around his back flatter, willing her warmth to transfer to him, “You’re freezing. Lets go get under your covers.”

He takes her up on that offer, chasing her up his stairs and into his room, pulling her close to him and relishing in her whines as he tumbles onto his bed with her. He’d affectionately called it their bed once, and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t do it more often. The way she nuzzled her head in his chest, abashed, had him dizzy for a week.

She struggles against him, whining something that goes in one ear and out the other.

“I need to take off my pants, Steve.”

He drops his arms from around her, enthusiastically helping her up so she can peel off her pants. She laughs at him, pushing his hands away when he tries to help.

“Sicko.”

She climbs into bed with him, pants newly gone. They adjust and settle, getting comfortable for the night. Limbs tangle, breathing settles out, loud unapologetic voices calm to whispers, and eyelids droop. He wraps his arms tighter around her, each movement languid.

“I missed you.” Steve murmurs into the darkness of his room. The calm has settled over them like thick blanket, hushing them and tucking their conjoined bodies into sleep. He half isn’t expecting a response.

“I missed you in my sleep.” Her sleepy voice whispers.

He cracks a smile, closing his eyes as her lips press to his chest. “I wasn’t in your dream?”

“You’re in all my dreams.”

“Oh, okay, just checking.”

Her shoulders shake with a short laugh, like sleep is weighing them down too much for anymore movement.

“I’m so tired.” He murmurs again.

“So sleep.”

He’s too embarrassed to tell her he doesn’t want to. That he’s fighting it off so he can have this memory forever. He stares at the ceiling trying to memorize the way his arms feel around her, the way he doesn’t know which leg is his and which is hers, the way he can feel her warm breath fanning across his chest. He wants something to cling to on another lonely night, where she can’t just walk down to his house and make him feel better.

How can you get a memory in a mason jar? How can you wrangle it into Tupperware, or stick it in between book pages like flowers?

He turns towards her, pulling her flush up against his chest, and she lets him, too asleep to fight.

“More comfortable?”

“Mhm.” He grumbles.

He tries to memorize the way the smell of her body wash still hasn’t worn off, how she sighs when he presses a kiss to her hair, the way she hugs his arm close to her.

“Goodnight.”

“G’night, love you.” Her consciousness is fading.

“Love you more.”

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington my beloved #Steve harrington x reader fluff #Steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington x y/n fluff

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meanbossart · 1 month

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A long over-due ask compilation (Art & Music)

It's vaguely based on a short story from the book "The Consumer" by Michael Gira, specifically "The Boss". I think it came up in conversation with a friend or something when I was picking a new username, so that's how we arrived at it - this was almost a decade ago so, my memory on it is a little hazy!

{MORE UNDER THE CUT]

HAHA thank you so much!!! Glad you enjoy what I do 😎🍻

I BELIEVE this little guide I put together over here might be helpful to you, also! I touched on pretty much everything you brought up.

As for reference material when it comes to facial expressions, I have a mirror next to my desk which I glance at often and make weird faces at LOL and for consistency, it's really a matter of learning to dissect and remember facial structure. It's just something you end up developing an eye for when you've done it for long enough! Naturally, if we're talking about drawing existing characters, it's always helpful to just look at some pictures of their mugs and take a minute to define what features about them make their faces recognizable - I touch on this at the link above as well!

I do plan on making a "drowstarion" (love that, by the way LOL) playlist eventually, life's just been kicking my ass and I hardly have the time 😭and when I do, I just wanna draw.

Otherwise I don't have any other playlists floating around at the moment, BUT the one my boyfriend made for his Vellioth comic can be found here, and it might scratch a similar itch!

Thank you! I believe this was in reference to this post. Something like that takes me about... An hour??? If we're talking just the colors, at least. Though that's a really rough estimate because I take a lot of breaks, so my sense of time when I work ends up pretty skewed. Even if the application of the colors themselves took less than 20 minutes I probably spent 2 hours just staring at it LOL.

My friend, I have no idea. I'm in a constant battle between "I want to draw more realistically" and "I want to simplify my art so I can draw more/faster". What you see is the result of that ongoing brain-tug-of-war.

Also, just the way I assume everyone else develops theirs - they see stuff they like and emulate it until their art is Frankensteinish enough to be it's own unique thing!

I'm far from a Type O Negative buff, BUT I'm happy to share some of my favorites with you! They're quite scattered across a couple of their albums so I'm not sure I have a favorite, but I would say October Rust is a good starting point.

In no particular order, these are my most listened tracks of theirs: -Love You to Death -Black N.01 -Haunted -She Burned Me Down -Can't Lose You -I Don't Wanna Be Me -Be My Druidess -September Sun -Tripping A Blind Man

Alas, I was one of those people who was already drawing in kindergarten 😅 though I would say I only started taking it seriously when I was around 15-16 years old. As someone who has tried their hand at several other hobbies since reaching adulthood, I get what you're saying that it can kinda feel like... You missed the wagon? I've felt that way about all kind of things lol

That said, I've seen adults managing to develop their art skills extremely fast and effectively before. Understanding where and how you need to improve, and how to follow lessons/guides best is something that is vastly improved by maturity and knowing how to best hone your time, attention, and resources - and those are skills we completely lack as children. So, I sincerely believe that as long as you commit yourself, you can definitely get to a point that you're happy with in a couple of years if not less.

JUST DO IT BUDDY we are all just people looking through a screen and you won't ever see, talk, or meet 99% of the folks who ever clap eyes on what you post. Whenever you start getting nervous about sharing something, take a minute to ask yourself why you're nervous, and if none of the reasons have any genuine substance besides being afraid of what people "might think", just go ahead and post it. You're no mind-reader after all, and if you are, I doubt you can hear what a guy from Argentina or wherever is thinking about the art you made.

Point is, nobody online can touch you 🤷and if someone doesn't like what you do, they can simply choose to not interact with it, and if they do you can block and move on. There are zero reasons for you to feel "bad" about putting up a doodle when our experiences on the web are so easily curated nowadays.

#ask compilation

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frenziedslashers · 1 year

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C'mere, Honey-Bear

Pairing: Negan x GN!Reader

Warnings: No pronouns are used, but Negan uses a LOT of pet names. Established relationship, canon typical violence, swearing, sex - nothing real graphic, it's more just mentioned than anything. Negan loves you. OOC Negan, probably, idk. I was emotional and needed to write this.

REQUESTING INFO || TWD MASTERLIST

Negan had no idea what he was getting himself into when he ordered his men to line Rick and the others up. The night was still young, and Lucille was hungry. That was all he cared about for the time being.

"Well, well, well," He tutted after hearing some voices from the group try and protest the situation they were in. He loved seeing people on their knees for him. It gave him a sense of superiority. Like he was a King, and they were his peasants. Begging for mercy as his eyes jumped from face to face. Though he primarily focused on the men. Mapping out who he thought would be a problem. Like the big beefy red head that would totally kick him in the balls if he had the chance. Or the Asian kid, who he just knew would be a problem in the future.

He wanted to bash their brains in. It was who he was now, he couldn't help it. In this world is was truly kill or be killed, and he wasn't about to let some new comers step in and kill him. Not when he was the top dog of D.C. Fucking Washington D.C., what more could he ask for?

The whimpers were enough to have his hair stand on end. Crying as he he stepped upped to home plate. Ready to swing and hit that winning home run. All until he heard a little voice. A voice he completely thought he had imagined.

"Negan?"

It was so soft and feathery light. Like the person saying it was a mouse in his ear. He recognized it from somewhere, but he couldn't place where. It had been so long since he had heard that little scared voice.

"That's my name, don't wear it dry, honey," He sing-songed into the night air, eyes scanning every each and one of the faces before him. Until they landed on the one who dare speak his name. You. A face he hadn't seen in a long time. A face he thought only visited him in dreams.

Now, Negan was far from a touchy-feely guy when it came to nights like these. Nights where all he wanted to do was prove a point. These nights, he was all about busting balls and cracking skulls. But he was frozen.

His eyes were locked on you, Lucille lazily hanging in his hand. The tip of her head brushed the ground by his feet while his heart thumped in his chest. All he could hear was the beat of his own heart. It was like a drum pounding that wouldn't stop.

"You.." That was all he could say. Everyone was looking between the both of you. The tears that stained your cheeks, blood that equally stained your lips, and other portions of your face. You put up a hell of a fight with his men, but he still recognized that gorgeous face of yours.

"Sir," Negan held his hand up, quieting his men. It seemed to get him to gather his thoughts a bit more. His whole demeanor changed, and everyone in the area noticed. He went from Mr. "I got an itch to scratch and it's your head against my bat." To something none of his men had ever seen. Something softer. It scared some of them, even. What would his next move be? Would he pretend to like you and then hit that winning home run? Or would he drop the bat and forfeit the entire game? All because of one meek and tired voice, that called out his name into the night air.

He took quick steps over to you. Dropping to his knees in front of you. The King fell for what used to be his Majesty. His other half. He used to be your Knight, and you his Ruler, but things changed. The apocalypse happened. "I thought you died," he muttered, voice soft, only for you.

A cry fell from your lips, and by golly did he want to punch the nearest person to the left of him. Even if they weren't who made you cry, and it was all him. He hated seeing you do such a thing. "Negan," Hearing his name fall from your lips again made his heartache. He never thought he'd hear it again. His eyes fell shut briefly before the man reached out to touch the side of your face. "Baby, I'm so sorry," he frowned once you flinched away from him. You had never been scared of him in your years of being together, but here you were. Shivering like a mouse confronting an old Tom Cat.

"Negan, let them go, please, don't hurt us, this isn't you," He frowned deeper. You were right, this wasn't him. This was a charade he picked up in order to survive. "I'd never hurt you," he muttered, finally able to reach out and brush his knuckles over your cheek. "But who did? Was it one of my men?" He asked, and you nodded, a glare settling on his face. "Point to me baby, which one?" Once motioned, his eyes were locked on the man. "What have I said about hurting people before I see them?" Negan snapped at his man. The guy flinched at his harsh tone. "I'm sorry sir! They were fighting with me!" "And you're a big guy! You can't handle yourself without bloodying up an innocent person? My innocent person?" He snapped, noticing you flinch in front of him.

God, he didn't know what to do. He was still mad at Rick and the others for the damage they caused, but he knew you. He loved you. He never stopped loving you. Even when he thought you died he still kept that stupid ring and necklace that you got him. Along with a photo of you that he carried anywhere he went.

"Honey bear," he cooed, "Do they take care of you?" You sighed at the pet name, closing your eyes while pursing your lips. Nodding softly, "Yeah, they do." He hummed at your voice, reaching out to grab your hand which you squeezed back. Falling forward in order to wrap your arms around his neck.

Negan dropped Lucille in order to catch you. Holding you close while his men stared in shock. This wasn't like Negan at all. Any other person he found he'd be ridiculing them. Making fun of their future death or hitting on them and offering them a nice fuck if they were up to it. He was never this gentle. Never.

The sigh that he let out was loud. Everyone stared awkwardly and anxiously. Waiting for his next move. His eyes parted, still keeping you in his grasp. Negan looked at Rick with pursed lips, and a slight scowl on his face, but it was quick to fade. "You kept them safe?" He asked, and Rick nodded, "We all did. We're a family," Negan rolled his eyes. He didn't have time for a life story. Not when he just got you back. "Spare me your sob story, Prick," He spat, and felt you nudge him with your hand. A soft apology left his lips - another thing his men had never seen. "Well, I want to thank you," He spoke, genuine words that fell from his lips. Rubbing up and down your back in a comforting manner.

No one could believe what they were hearing. Rick was certain that someone was going to die that night, but maybe since you happened to come along for Maggie's sake, maybe you saved everyone. "Look, I'm still pissed about my men. Hell, you wiped out a lot of innocent people. But, I might just have to let that slide knowing that you kept my honey bear safe." You couldn't help but giggle lightly hearing the nickname again. Negan smiled while his eyes darted down to where your head was still buried in his shoulder.

God, he missed you.

"I thank you, really. I'd like to repay you by.. Not killing your people," Rick nodded, everyone seemed to ease up at that information. You as well. "Thank you," Negan held his hand up to stop the Officer. "Don't thank me yet, you still have time to prove me wrong. I still think you're a murderous psychopath. Anyone could be friendly enough to help a major hottie like my baby here," he grinned, "Negan, stop." You protested, and he snickered. He loved getting under your skin.

"So, I'd like to make a deal with you. We join forces, so long as you don't kill any more of my men. What's yours, is mine," he spoke, a stern look in his eyes. "But, with that being said, I'll help you with whatever you need, too. Protection? We got the men. Medical? We could arrange something. Women? Well, maybe not that," He spoke with a shit-eating grin. Finally pulling you both up to your feet, Lucille abandoned on the ground. His hands found better things to grab.

Rick nodded, swallowing thickly. "Thank you, we all appreciate it," Negan shrugged, he had better things to focus on. Holding the sides of your face with a grin as you smiled back up at him. "No need, Rick the Prick," You rolled your eyes at his words. "I found a better way to spend my night anyways," he hummed, his smile quickly growing mischievous. You felt your body heat up at the remark. Eyes darting to the side out of embarrassment. "Now, come on, darlin'. How about I show you my joint, I'm sure you'll love it! It's safe, and I can make you that pasta you used to slurp up faster than my dick!" You let out a groan, rolling your eyes for the millionth time, but your smile ceased to fade. "You still blurt the stupidest things, Neeg'..." You sighed, and he snickered. An arm came to rest around your waist as he walked you over to his truck. "Well," He shot a glare over to the man that busted your lip and gave you the scraped cheek. "I haven't really changed that much." he purred, leaning over to kiss the side of your head.

Once you were in the safety of his truck, Negan ordered his men to let the others go. Telling them to inform Rick that they'd be back a week max in order to keep their promise of working together. Along with you being able to visit your friends and maybe grab some of your things to move into Sanctuary with him. Hell, maybe he could move to Alexandria with you if he liked the place enough. Make it an even safer outpost for him and his men - along with your 'family'. Hey, maybe you two could start a family of your own. Adopt a kid - maybe a dog or cat if there were still any in this shithole world. It was sure something he'd love to talk about with you in the future. Once the both of you got cozied up wherever you both decided to stay, after all.

"Did you miss me?" His voice was lower, staring at his lap before looking back over at you. "Of course I did, Papa bear," He smiled at the nickname, "I never stopped thinking about you, or hoping that I'd find you. Hell, I told the rest that I came in order to make sure Maggie was safe, but honestly," You grabbed his hand with a sigh. "I was hoping and praying the Negan we were dealing with was you." His smile only grew at your words. "You're a big enough asshat to pull all this off." He rolled his eyes this time, letting out a sigh. "Hun, you give me too much credit."

He wished he had a little more faith that you were still alive and out there. You were in Atlanta, Georgia visiting your family when this all went down, though. You couldn't blame a guy for giving up after not seeing his lover in nearly twelve years. It took a toll on him, and he would beat himself up over it 'til the day he died.

"Did you miss me?" You shot the question back at him, and he was quick to grab both of your hands. Scooting closer to you since you were both in the back seat. "My gorgeous, gorgeous, flower, I never stopped thinking about you, Every mornin' I wake up I hope to wake up next to you. Your sleeping face all peaceful and shit. I hope each and every goddamn time when I get out of the shower you'll be standing there, looking yourself over in the mirror before showing me a new shirt ya got. I've missed you so goddamn much, you don't even know," He muttered, a hand reaching up to hold the side of your face. "Look," he stated, pulling the hand back to reach down his shirt, and pulling out the necklace with the ring attached to it. "I still have that stupid ring you got me on our three-year anniversary." He smiled, and you did the same, looking it over in awe. You couldn't believe that he still had it. "I thought you hated that ring?" You asked cheekily, and he shrugged. "Do you believe everything I say?" You giggled, shaking your head 'no'.

The moment that you both arrived at the safety of the compound, Negan was dragging you inside. A hand on your hip in order to show everyone that you were off limits. You were his lover, no one else's. "Let's get ya cleaned up, then we can go lay down. I'll show ya around tomorrow, how 'bout that, sweetie pie?" You nodded, leaning against his side with a sigh. "Thank you, handsome," he grinned, "Well, don't mention it. I still got a reputation to keep. Gotta keep these men working for me!"

His hands were soft as they helped you clean your face off once in his bathroom. Brows furrowed as he focused on cleaning your cuts and not hurting you more than the disinfectant did. Muttering soft 'sorry's anytime you flinched. You knew he didn't mean it, though. "Baby, I'm so sorry this happened to you, I never meant for you guys to go and get hurt yet, I-" "Yet?" He frowned, "Well, you guys killed a lot of my men. Ya can't blame me for wantin' some of ya dead in return?" You frowned, rubbing your fingers together a bit nervously. "Hun, I won't be hurting none of your people anytime soon. You have my word, I promise you that." He sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

You pondered his words, but ultimately believed him. If he did break that promise you wouldn't know what to do, but you prayed that he wouldn't. You knew Negan hated seeing you upset, and you only hoped that he truly hadn't changed that much.

You reached up to hold the sides of his face, staring at him for a moment before leaning in. Finally giving in and kissing him. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you the moment he knew you were real and not just his mind playing tricks on him, but honestly. He was terrified that you hated him.

His hands dropped everything in them. One hand resting on the back of your head, the other gripping at your thigh as you rest seated on the bathroom counter. His hips slotted between your thighs. "God, I missed you so fucking much," He muttered against your lips. Both of your eyes shut while you each clung to one another. Sharing kiss after kiss until Negan had enough of standing.

The leader was quick to lift you off the counter. Carrying you by your thighs into the connected bedroom that he called his own. Lying you down on the bed while climbing on top of you. His kisses growing more feverish and hungry. He was like a starved man given a full meal for the first time in ages. Soft breaths bleeding with your own while his hands touched and groped at your body.

The moment that you were tugging at his shirt with a desperate need to remove it. It was gone. His jacket and shirt both shrugged and tugged off, thrown messily on the floor by the bed.

His body was more aged than the last time you did this with him. Scars and cuts littered his chest and stomach, your fingertips brushing over each one that your eyes saw. He only smirked a toothy grin, "Miss it?" You snorted, "You're still just as cocky," He hummed at your response, leaning down to kiss the side of your throat. "Oh, you know it, baby. I'll die cocky too."

He was quick at removing your own shirt next. Allowing both his hands and mouth to explore your skin. Groping your body while he got to work at kissing and sucking. Biting over your stomach in order to leave marks on you. He missed marking you up for the masses to see. Let everyone know that you were his. His. His. His.

The activities progressed. You and Negan showered each other with the affection that you both missed. Tossing and turning in bed while he fucked you like a madman and then vice versa. Both of your hips were sore by the time he got done with you. Each of your bodies covered in scratches, bites, and hickeys. He couldn't have asked for a better night. "Shit, honey bear," he panted, you laying on his chest while he stared up at the ceiling. "I forgot how much you wear me out," a breathy laugh left his throat, and you only sniggered. "Go ahead and get used to it, babe, I don't plan on this being a one-night thing." He snickered, excitement coursing his veins. "Good, because I wouldn't let you go without a fight, babe."

He couldn't believe that you were back in his life. That he was actually holding you in his arms. After you both gave each other the best night you both have had in years. He couldn't let go of you, not when he just got you back. His arms were tight around your body, keeping you close in order to make sure that when he woke up this wouldn't be a dream. That he wouldn't wake up to empty arms and a cold bed. He was almost too scared to go to sleep, but having you back in his arms was like taking a sedative. His eyes slowly falling shut while he pulled you a little closer. A soft 'goodnight, love' falling from his lips.

When you woke up, you were met by a soft smile and tired eyes. Negans hand resting gently on the side of your face. Brushing your cheek with his thumb. "Mornin' gorgeous," you felt your heart race just from hearing the sound of his groggy voice. Smiling back while reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. Pulling him in for a lazy kiss. "Mornin', asshole," a soft chuckle left his throat, "That's how ya feel huh? gonna call me an asshole now when I'm fairly certain the whole compound heard you screaming my name last night?" Your skin felt hot at his words, but you weren't about to let him win. "Oh yeah? You weren't any quieter Mr. "Oh fuck, oh shit, right there, shit, faster baby!" He furrowed his brows with a pout. "I did not say that," "Oh, but you did," you cooed, kissing the corner of his lips. Pressing on his chest in order to get him to move on his back. Stradling his hips like you had the night prior.

He was quick to pull you in for another kiss before he said anything, though. Pulling your hips down to meet his own. Both of you released a moan into each other's mouths. "Man, I love you, you know that? Don't think I've ever met anyone who's as feisty and cocky as you, well, besides myself." He grinned, and you sighed, kissing his cheek before laying down on his chest. "I love you too, you asshole." You responded, which earned a soft chuckle from your lover beneath you. His hands rub softly at your back and sides. He swore at that moment, that he was truly the happiest man on the face of the earth. If not that, then he was definitely the luckiest.

#negan twd #negan the walking dead #negan smith #negan x reader #x reader #the walking dead #twd x reader #notsfw #minors dni

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hype-blue-fixation · 1 month

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This may be a really unpopular opinion, but it really saddens me how many Alastor fansongs are coming out and none of them fully embrace his old-timey radio aesthetic. Like it's such a niche thing you can go wild with!!!

But instead we get rock and rap, or like one sentence that's in his radio voice and the rest is just a plain singing voice. Like no. Give me my over-voice-filtered singing with a silly 1920's radio host accent with all the grainy sounding instruments and swing beat that makes me want to bop out of my chair and do the Charleston.

So far, I only like Smile Like You Mean It (chef's kiss MUAH) and the 1920's Remix of Insane. There's also this one lullaby song I like, but wish that it had the radio voice to it. Everything else I've found just doesn't scratch that brain itch or fails to carry out the Alastor vibe for the entirety of the song.

#rambles #Alastor fansongs #my autistic opinion

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lovely-necromancy · 8 months

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Gifted Snapdragon ch.1

pairing: Astarion x Genderless Tav (called Flora but other wise not given an appearance)

Summary: A long slow burn starting from the beginning of the journey, and going on for far long after the game ends. A story for soft Tavs who have some morals and just want to help this boy heal.

Warnings: a slow burn to put Jane Austin to shame, canon compliant mind control and manipulation

A/N: I have not played BG3 yet (my computer unalived itself right after I made my character) so until I get money for a new pc I have to rely on longplays of the game on youtube. Apologies if characters or events seem off.

To think that running a simple errand for your older sister; a few days trip to Baldur's Gate to retrieve her wedding gown from the bridal hall, that's what got you into this mess. The travel wasn't horrible but you'd made it no further than five meters into the city before you'd been captured by the mind flayers. Taken aboard the ship, stuffed into a pod, and been an unfortunate soul to be infected with a worm that was currently squirming away in your brain. The dragons had been a real fun bit – you'd have to remember to tell Fauna all about them and how they'd left you in a fiery wreckage of a flying ship, left to fall right out of the sky. Though your sister would hardly find that bit amusing, she may if you emphasis the outlandishness of the ripples of psionic energy that had saved you from being but mush on the beach just mere feet above the ground, suspended.

Though you couldn't have been too sure that that was what had happened, as a fog had come over you mid fall and it almost sounded as though someone was speaking to you before you made contact with the sand. Your eyes catching on nothing but an empty beach cast a glow with the flames of the fallen ship. No one else was there.

You sit up and take a few calming breaths in time with the waves crashing on shore. The calm washes over you as the water pulls the sand with the tide, with adrenaline lowering in your system by the breath you begin to assess yourself – checking over yourself for any signs of damage or tear. Finding none but the dull itch left in your eye from that creature you stand.

Upon straightening yourself, you glance towards the flaming ship off a little ways from your landing. Time to put more space between you and that awful vessel.

As you turn you spot the prone figure of the woman you'd helped out of the pod aboard the cursed cruiser. Her name was Shadowheart if the landing didn't cause any damage to you brain that would have made that name up. You move swiftly to her side and slide down to you knees; gently you shake her awake. Her eyes are glazed and bleary when they first open, the unfocused gaze falls on you and soon recognition ignites in them.

Sitting up she takes in the chaos around the two of you.

“You're alive...I – I'm alive. We're alive but that doesn't make sense, how is this possible?” Shadowheart swiftly rights herself and stuffs her mysterious trinket into her pocket.

Scanning the area with a furrowed brow you frown, “I'm not quite sure I understand it myself.”

Upon a further inspection you realize someone is missing from your little party, “Wait a minute, the Githyanki warrior, where is she? Do you think she's fallen further along the shore?”

“Possible, but I'm not sure you should concern yourself with her, Gith aren't known for their friendly dispositions. I'd say you out grew your usefulness to her and she went back to worrying about herself. Which is what we should be doing. We'll need to gather supplies, find food, and shelter, but most importantly we'll have to find a healer.” she takes a step closer, “We may be free of the ship but we are still infected and at the mercy of those beasts.”

A little shocked you stare at her with surprise, “We? You – you want to stay together?” you ask – and it comes out in a much smaller voice than you'd intended.

“Mhhmm.” she nods, “We need each other right now, we can watch each other's backs. I can't think of better company than that of another half-elf.”

You give an understanding nod of your own, “That sounds like a fine plan. I'm called Flora by the way, wasn't much of a chance to tell you on the ship.”

To which she smiles brightly, “Very well, nice meeting you Flora.” she offers a mock bow, one you readily return.

“Well met, Shadowheart.”

Standing back to your full heights you catch each other's eyes and start to laugh. A little silliness amongst this mess does help to lighten the mood.

With those pleasantries out of the way and a renewed sense of vigor the two of you begin to head off the beach and in search of some type of settlement; when Shadow heart puts a hand on your shoulder, a gentle grasp that squeezes her fingers into your shirt just a bit, “I – I just want to thank you...again. For freeing me from that pod, so much was going on that it would've been easier on you to just leave me. But you didn't and I'll remember that.” with a nod she pushes her hand off your shoulder and mentions for you to lead the way.

The two of you travel through the wreckage of what looked to be a previously beautiful and serene beach: now bodies and viscera lay painted around every corner and crevasse it seems. And the little brain creatures seem to be posted as sentries scanning the shore for any survivors who'd made it through the crash.

An unsettling feeling fills your veins at the thought, quickly you crouch behind a large stone and look back to the brunette half-elf who follows your lead.

Speaking in a low and hushed whisper to not get noticed, “I think it's best if we sneak around those things for the moment, could get dicey if we -”

A scuttling sound, wet and sloshing with each supposed step, has the two of you pin straight and scanning your surroundings. Unable to find the source near, Shadowheart peers around the rock – now spotting three of the creatures milling about in a pattern. Coming back to meet you she silently nods her agreement.

Thinking of a plan to get the two of you out of here unnoticed proves more difficult than you'd initially thought. You know next to nothing about mind flayers and even less about the worms and these brain babies. Taking the chance you peak back around the rock and at the creatures following the same pattern that Shadowheart convey to you in a mimed manner. However, after watching them for a while you noticed something peculiar – the brains don't look up, they seem to only have the ability to perceive with a limited range of sight...one that only saw on the ground and not above.

That was it if the two of you could take to higher ground you'd have no trouble with the mutated organs and may even have a bit of an upper hand on them if you were able to keep your eye on them from a safe distance.

Doing your best through a series of hand gestures and trying to have Shadowheart follow your own line of sight you convey your plan.

The she elf seems to be on autopilot listening to you and following along with your gestures. And you catch the exact moment that the plan clicks for her. Dark eyes widen and her mouth goes slightly slack as the realization hit her like a crashing mind flayer ship.

Soon, it's quick work for the both of you to jump atop a few stones and climb more sturdy rock formations to get on top of a metal platform – broken pieces of the once flying ship. It's almost too convenient that you'd both managed to get around three of those creatures and now you were mere meters away from entering the grasslands.

Hopeful to reach some kind of cover from any lurking sentries you hasten your pace.

It looks like you weren't the only ones who'd made it out of the beach. Up ahead you spot a mop of silver curls just in the brush. Speeding up – creating a bit of distance from Shadowheart, who was preoccupied ensuring nothing noticed your departure from the beach – you find yourself closing in on an elf seemingly slightly older than yourself.

Red eyes are quick to find you, his face reads relieved while his stance suggests tension lies underneath. He beckons you closer.

“Help,” he calls as he motions for you, “I have one of those brain creature things cornered just in the grass over there. You can kill it can't you? Like the others.”

You had managed to kill a few whilst aboard the ship but that'd been with help from Shadowheart and the Gith woman. You're a little doubtful you'd be able to handle one on your own.

Still, taking into account Shadowheart's current distance from you, you figure it wouldn't hurt to at least give it a go. So, you nod, “Yes, as long as it's just the one. I should be able to handle that.”, taking a step closer and then surpassing the man.

“It's there can you see it?” he asks voice giving a tremble – or perhaps that was the tickling ringing you heard in your ear.

Your focus zones in when the bushes give a little shake.

You stay where you are refusing to take another step forward since the bushes are too dense to see through you'd miss the signs if the creature lunged out at you.

A gravely voice cries out, “Run!” and soon a boar is running free and away from your direction.

You chuckle and shake your head. The man has been through a lot this day, you all have, it's absolutely reasonable he'd make the assumption a young boar hiding in the brush was one of those creatures. While your relieved it was just a silly boar you're still concerned if the man needs a rest. Until you turn to see the glint of a dagger held to you.

Since the elf has it wielded towards you, Shadowheart makes no attempt to move to your aid – in fear of provoking him to cause actual harm.

Looking at the man you can tell this isn't the first time he's found himself brandishing a weapon, more specifically a dagger, to someone; no his stance is too set, too firm, and the placement of the blade indicates he won't hesitate to use it if need be. However, if he'd wanted to hurt you there was amble time while your back had been turned and Shadowheart was further away. Slowly you bring your hands up hoping to alleviate any tension in the elf that could result in him slicing you on reflex.

“Now, I just want some answers. I saw you two scuttling around the ship – you're in leagues with them aren't you? Those tentacled....urgh!”

You and the elf stumble forward and the worms in your brain communicate to one another. Much like with the introductions with the other two women on the ship you are bombarded with visions from the man's perspective. A sense of prowling on a dark street, then the tentacles from his capture, the worm, and light so much light. Then a glimpse of yourself through his eyes, a young thing with wide doe eyes and all the grace of a baby deer as well.

In turn he is plagued with visions from your perspective.

“Wha- what was that? What is happening?” he asks his grip on the dagger loosening as he lowers it to rub his temple harshly.

“It's that worm. We believe it's connecting all of us.” you fight the urge to mirror his position – it really has been of no help to stave off the pain.

His posture straightens slightly looking to you – but not quite at you, “The worm? Of course the worm – well I guess that explains a few things.”

Then the elf focuses his gaze on you once more, “And to think I nearly decorated the ground with your innards. Apologies.”

Noting the relaxed stance and lowered blade you relax yourself, dropping your hands to your side once more. And you are quick to offer him a small smile, “Apology accepted, it's been quite the day for us all I believe.”

A short chuckle spills from his lips, it's there you realize you keep staring at them as if drawn to them – his tone flows like a river, an unpredictable calmness. The sound reminds you of Fauna; star above and below you hope you make it through this, she'd never forgive herself if you died doing her a favor.

“What a – kind spirit.” he gestures in a manner you can't tell if to insult or praise you before he continues on to introduce himself, “My name's Astarion, I was in Baldur's Gate when those bests snatched me.” his expression turns just short of a snarl at the admission.

Placing a hand over your chest you introduce your little party, “Flora,” sweeping a hand to motion towards your fellow half-elf who holds a scowl over her features, not unlike the one she'd held before you released her from the pod, “and she is called Shadowheart.”

He follows your hand with an “Of course she is,” before he returns his gaze to you, opening his chest as he stands with his hands placed on his his lower back and a smirk decorates his face shifting his weight around, “A pleasure.”

You nod a little in agreement, sparing another last glance to your companion to see she is still just as wary of the elf before you.

“So,” Astarion, calls gaining your attention once more, “do you know anything about these worms.”

There's a quiver in your lip you can't shake as you pout glancing off to the side. Delivering bad news...politely was always difficult for you. With the matter of a painful transformation before you all ceased to exist as yourself...well that required more tact than you held.

“Um – yes, well unfortunately it seems they'll turn us into mind flayers if we don't find a way to get rid of them.”

His eyes grow wide and he blinks a time or two before a disbelieving laugh falls from his lips, somehow the sound sours the smooth river tone. Its weight adds to the already oppressive air amidst the wreckage of the crash site.

“Turn us into- ha. Hahaha – why of course whatever else could it have done aside from turn me into a monster.”

It may be the stress of the day but Astarion seems to have a habit of talking to himself.

Astarion speaks up again this time with an optimistic sort of lilt, “Although if it hasn't happened yet, there's a chance. If we could find an expert – someone who knows a great deal about these beasts and can control them we may have time.”

You perk at the sudden change in tune.

“Oh! Well, we were thinking more along the lines of just getting rid of them – not controlling them but yes all the same we are looking for a solution as well. Would you care to join us? Our odds must be better together after-all.”

His expression is once again drawn back to shock, as if he hadn't expected an invitation. Considering he did hold you up at knife point you can understand but again it has been a...very trying day for you all.

“Oh, hmm well I had been ready to go this alone. But maybe it isn't a bad idea after all...you know sticking with a herd.” he smiles and you take in the refreshing warmth it brings out in his features. Nearly hides the horrible bags he holds under his eyes. Much different than the earlier smirk that seemed to be his default expression, and only seems to draw your attention to the exhaustion apparent in his eyes.

“And you seem like a useful person to know.” once again the smirk is back on his face, and you can't help but sigh at the loss of such a charming expression, “All right, I accept. Lead on.” he gives a playful bow to which you offer a polite laugh.

If these were the characters you managed to attract after such a tragedy you must truly be blessed by the stars.

Turning around, Astarion right behind, you catch Shadowheart's dour expression: seems she'll take a bit to warm up to your new companion. But you'll all need all the help you can get if you want to be freed of these brain worms. Cocking your head slightly as you catch her gaze, you try again to convey a mute conversation to her. She nods and looks away, upset but understanding of your decision to request the elf's help.

She'll be civil to ensure your success.

The three of you make your way through the sparsely forested plain. You take note that Astarion, who you'd assumed would keep a distance, has fallen in step with you, flanking your left. Perhaps it's because you hadn't left your small village much, but it's a strange feeling to have that spot occupied by someone other than Fauna. Would it be rude if you ask he not take that spot? It does seem like a natural progression on his part though as Shadowheart has taken the spot on your right.

It's just strange for you. And you can't stop the occasional glances but overtime it seems Astarion has caught on because he'll return the favor and offering a small smile. It leaves you feeling guilty about being particular about something so mundane for those who weren't raised in a set.

It's during a short rest in the party that you strike up an another conversation with Astarion. You all having found a fallen log to take a seat on, the difference between your two companions couldn't be more night and day. As Shadowheart's rigid posture and practice of taking as little space on the log as possible was countered by Astarion nearly draping himself on the log.

“Astarion, do you happen to know where we've landed? Shadowheart and I haven't the fainest clue.”

The older elf had been admiring the barren landscape, no small amount of wonder and adoration shimmering in his eyes as he takes it all in. When his gaze falls on you it is near dazed.

“ 'fraid not, I'm simply city boy. So, I can't say I've been through these parts.” He returns to gazing out to the grassy knoll, you still give a nod though he isn't looking at you anymore.

“We should head to Baldur's Gate I have someone waiting for me and I'm sure there's bound to be a contact they know in the city who can help us.” Shadowheart voices, a little of a shock as she hasn't mentioned wanting to go to Baldur's Gate before.

A slight scoff comes from the man, “Let's hope we aren't too far, or in the Fyewilds, stars only know how long we have before the change is complete.”

“This isn't the Fyewilds, they are a much denser and lusher forest.” Shadowheart cuts in.

And you nod in agree with the young woman, “Yes, unfortunately this isn't the Fyewilds – if it were I'm certain we'd be able to find a healer for this affliction. Naturally gifted healers and all.”

After that you three fall into a not uncomfortable silence as you gathered yourselves and got back on the trail.

True to his word Astarion was showing himself to be every bit of the city boy he'd proclaimed, as he gets tangled constantly on the low branches that you and Shadowheart have little trouble avoiding. You have to stop yourself from laughing when he curses at branches for snaring his clothes for the tenth time.

It's during one of these moments, waiting for Astarion to untangle a wispy tree branch from his hair and catch up to you two, that you notice movement in the plain just ahead of you.

A purple hued figure barely moving lays in wait – and it's already seen you.

“Look,” you whisper harshly, garnering the attention of both. “A downed mind flayer.”

As you take a step Shadowheart holds her arm before you, stopping your movement. “Careful, those things are dangerous even when injured.”

Sticking closer together, more a tight pod now, your party of three approaches the dying monster. You could end its life once and for all right now... … …if only you didn't feel compassion. Compassion?

The thought strikes you like a young wizard's first fireball. Uncontrolled with a lot of force riding behind it.

Compassion for this – this thing, you aren't sure you could call it a person given no evidence that it feels any sort of remorse for the lives it's effectively ended and ruined. Not if making you feel compassion towards it as it lay dying was any indicator.

You try hard to take a step away from the beast, you notice Shadowheart and Astarion attempting to do the same with similar results. None of you can move away. The mind flayer has you in its grasp. Soon your thoughts are drowned out, overrun with its will: and you hear...no more like feel the words that flood into your brain.

“You can't move, can't think...thinking is done mercifully for you. It will be a joy to serve – and to die for it an honor.”

Your face is cast in a full grimace as you realize this thing is trying to overpower your thoughts and emotions. To possess your mind and force you to love it, admire it, worship it.

A rush of anger floods your body. Perfectly timed as the creature's mind seems unable to focus itself on you.

How dare it make you feel – how dare it tell you how to feel. This thing infected you, gave you a death sentence and it expects salvation in the form of your own life. As though you fight for survival was trivial compared to its own. But you were no puppet yearning to be told to dance with a pull and tug of your strings – you were your own person. Your thoughts were yours alone and not to be twisted and manipulated into a petty illusion of freedom and will. Anger raises in you and tears dance along your water line.

You lurch as the mind flayer comes back into your head with a vengeance; a vice locking your mind into obedience. It needs sustenance to survive and with your very being you can provide.

The parts of your mind that are still yours fight with everything they have, it isn't determination nor the urge to survive. It is pure unbridled spite and rage. You are your own person, not a pawn to be toyed with an sacrificed when the need arises. You break free of its thrall with a gurgled yell.

“Argh!”

White flashes before your eyes from the force you jostled back into your mind. Haggard breaths leave your chest heaving as the few tears that had gathered spill and cascade down your cheeks.

The monster lies exhausted, defeated. Its eyes -wet, not unlike the glossiness of your own, orange pearls that radiate malice.

What nerve it has to be the one cross with you as it had any rights after invading your senses. Playing at the recesses of your mind uninvited. To be angry that you broke free of its will – what a damned child.

While normally violence in reference to your anger wasn't your preferred outlet, this was a unique...a special circumstance. Building all your negative emotions from your chest you imagined pushing all that down, down though your body and guiding it into your leg. Which you lifted high above the flayer and with all that rage and energy dropped it down as hard as you possibly could. For a moment you had the fear you'd injured your ankle, having felt a pop underneath from the force of the kick. Though it could have simply been your boot going through the monster's skull.

Blood and brain matter fly from the impact, splashing back and covering your leg and other bits of you. You do not turn to see the reactions of your companions.

A grimace paints your features as you now live with the consequences of your anger. While there is shame for the display you'd provided them, you feel no remorse for the killed creature with the shattered skull.

The tears spill and a warbled cry leaves you.

It's small but enough to spring the two elves out of their stupors. Shadowheart pipes up, “Death was too good for that monster.” she says with no shortage of venom.

Astarion nods mutely, eyes lingering on the leg of yours now covered in the remnant of the mind flayer, and you yourself are hard-pressed to disagree.

You heave out a breath and find your voice after a long pause,” True. But I'd rather it be dead then left to lure another infected over to complete its revival. Best finish it than leave it to recover.” you wipe at the viscera that had splashed up on your cheek with the edge of your sleeve.

Without consorting with your companions you restart you journey, marching forward to find supplies or a settlement. While the latter is more preferable you'll need supplies to set up a camp if you don't stumble upon civilization by nightfall. However, Shadowheart catches you by the shoulder and forces you to come back to a stop.

“Are you alright, that was a lot back there and...no offense you don't give off the killer vibe. We can rest a minute if you need to breathe.” she says it gently and in a hushed whisper as though you'll shatter at anything more.

The tears have long since stopped but your gaze still feels watery and foggy. A slow tickle of bile rises to your throat and you struggle to speak around it. A harsh swallow followed by another shuddered breath you look to her with a tired smile, “I'll be fine – just a long day,” a sarcastic chuckle falls from your lips and even you can hear how hollow and broken it sounds; a person toeing the line of a breakdown, “Nothing a bath won't fix, I'm sure.” your hand finds her on your shoulder and you give it a reassuring squeeze.

Astarion having caught up to you both once again flanks your left and in a show of theatrics agrees with you.

“Oh, now that is one thing we can most certainly agree on. A nice warm soak, perhaps some bubbles, and of course let's not forget a nice glass of wine. Sounds like a wonderful evening after all this.” he all but moans at the thought of such a mundane evening in.

The laughter that it draws out of you is much more genuine and has both your party members looking at you with ease. One narrowly avoided breakdown done with and the rest of the journey ahead.

In all fairness you weren't completely good to travel after all, which you noticed when you were shocked to find yourself face to face with a fallen caravan. Having looked as though it broke down and was simply left to rot out here.

The landscape surrounding still suggested you were in the grassland but nothing seemed familiar. A glance to the sun showed it'd been hours since you were last aware. More than a little wary at the missing time you are quick to ease as you take note of Astarion and Shadowheart walking up to your sides.

“Oh good find. Didn't notice that from the trail, maybe there's something useful here.” the she-elf says before going to inspect the vehicle.

As she passes you notice a pack on her back that hadn't been there before. Chalking it up to your missing time, you don't really question it.

“Good to have you with us once more.” Astarion says watching Shadowheart tear the caravan apart for supplies.

Not much more is said as the two of you wait for the she-elf. And it isn't long until she finds a hidden compartment that holds a small chest. She tries to open it but a lock stops her. Looking up to you both she asks, “Any one have a lock pick?”

Astarion huffs, “Hardly, but I do possess a certain skill to help us. One moment.”

He pulls a loose nail free from the caravan and kneels to the chest, placing the needle in at a slight angle his ear twitches. He rises back up before he toes the nail with the tip of his boot, aligning it so he can place a well aimed kick and the chest pops open.

You clap at the show he'd put on and he gives a small bow accepting the praise for his talents.

As his reward he lifts the small bag of holding from the chest. Useful.

“Going to share what you've found?” Shadowheart calls as Astarion inspects the contents. He delivers a flat look her way, tossing a book he's pulled from the bag.

She catches it with ease.

“Some patience wouldn't hurt you.” returning to his task, his hand raises again with bundle of cloth held in it. This time he directs the throw to you.

Clumsily you catch the bundle. And oversized pair of pants unfurl before you, along with a set of socks. You'd all but forgotten your soaked leg, but now you could feel how the cloth of your current pants clung to your leg.

Pulling another book from the bag Astarion shrugs. “Not much I'm afraid. But there's a few more pieces of clothing and a bed roll in here.”

“Ok, that puts us at two bed rolls then possibly three if someone wants to compile the clothes into one.” Shadowheart nods.

Seems you've missed the item collection, hopefully not much else happened while you weren't coherent.

“Any tents?” you ask making your way to the back of the caravan for privacy.

“Found four, took them in case of rain we have a cover.” Shadowheart calls as you switch out your pants for the fresh pair. Rolling the new waistband up so the legs don't completely cover your feet. They are bulky but will do for now.

Rounding the corner holding your soiled pants you aren't sure what to do with them. Astarion and Shadowheart are flipping through their books as you approach. Astarion looks up first, placing his book back into, now, his bag of holding.

“Oh, please don't take those. Leave them here. They won't do much good now. I doubt that stain will come out just toss them on the wagon.” he motions and steps back and away from you worried you'll request he put it in his bag to hold on to.

Looking down at your hands and the pants, “If the worm doesn't do the job, Fauna will surely kill me for this.” you sigh, but relinquish the pants to nature. “You ready to get moving? A lot of ground to cover before nightfall and we still have a few hours to spare.”

Shadowheart places her book on the caravan, Astarion stares after her cross before grabbing the book back up and placing it once more in the bag – before following after.

It was an aimless mile you'd walked before seeing a distorted purple sigil in the side of a rock. An unstable portal, without thinking you'd walked up to the malfunctioning spell curious to who caused it and why.

You approach the sigil on the stone, magic glitters and swirls from it erratically, as if malfunctioning. It looks slightly dangerous. Still you reach up to touch the sigil and are shocked – quite literally by the portal.

A snicker can be heard from Astarion, which you deserved it was an incredibly daft thing to do, touching such volatile magic. Your lucky all it did was shock you...that is until a hand pops free of the small portal suddenly, startling the lot of you.

“Uh, hello. A hand anyone?” a male voice calls from the other side of the portal.

Like the applause you gave Astarion earlier for opening the chest, albeit slower and more wary you clap for the hand's appearance. In a sense you feel vindicated by the withering sigh that leaves the she-elf behind you.

Another huff of a sigh is pulled from the portal, “Perhaps I should have been cleared. To clarify: a helping hand would be appreciated.” the hand continues to beckon you closer.

Looking over your shoulder the others seem unphased but overall unmoving and unlikely to help. You guess saving this poor magic user would be your task then.

Placing a hand over the sigil you attune yourself to its frequency, no use in you also getting stuck in a portal with no way out. You focused in on easing the chaos of the portal that you have yet to note any change in behaviors, the magic user on the other side can tell the difference and comments you.

“There we go, whatever you're doing is working wonders! Now a quick tug should do the trick.”

A little wary of getting pulled in due to your lack of strength you beckon Shadowheart over to aid you. As you grasp the arm she wraps around your waist and helps you pull out a wizard donned in a rich purple robe. He falls to the ground, thrown in between you two and Astarion; you and Shadowheart steady each other to keep from falling as well.

Once he rights himself the wizard starts off this new round of introductions, “Hello, I'm Gale of Waterdeep.” he grips your hand and shakes it firmly and roughly. “Apologies, I'm usually much better at this.”

It feel as though cotton has been stuffed into your ears. His words are muffled to you though you know he is obnoxiously projecting his voice despite there only being three of you.

Your hand is still in his grasp and his focus is still entirely set on you: unaware that Astarion stalks behind him, circling as he makes his way back to you and Shadowheart. The wizard takes no notice of the posturing and continues talking.

“Hey, I know you, don't I? Well, in a manner of speaking that it. You were on the nautiloid as well.”

You share a look with the other two and you all have furrowed brows and tight frowns but give muted nods to Gale. It's then he takes notice of the other two in the party.

“Ah, hmm funny didn't take elves for the silent type.”

“Half-elf.” you and Shadowheart chime.

“Oh, alright fair point, well then I can only imagine you three were also on the receiving end of a rather unwelcomed insertion in the ocular region.”

A shudder run through you at the replaying image of the worm's teeth before it disappeared into your eye socket.

“I'll take that as a yes. This parasite if you weren't aware – after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mind flayers. Through a process referred to as ceremorphosis, which let me assure you: it is to be avoided!” he scans the party taking you all in, “None of you happen to be a cleric, by any chance? Maybe a doctor? A surgeon? Scarily accurate with a sharpened knitting needle?”

You like to chalk this up to a stress induced day for the man, you can't shake the feeling that he likes explaining concepts to people...or the sound of his own voice with the way he speaks without letting you get a word in.

Unsure of what to say or if it would even matter to the man, you remain silent. It surprises you when Shadowheart speaks up for your group, “You seem to know a lot more about our condition to know that it is out of the realm of most clerics.”

Gale takes his eyes off of you and directs his gaze over to the she-elf.

“Most, keyword, no doubt. But I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few. You don't happen to be one of them?” he directs his attention back to you with the last question, feeling the arcane energy that is at your disposal.

Shaking your head you offer an apologetic frown, “Afraid not. I can handle most surface injuries and other basic first aid tasks but this is way out of my league.”

“Shame, no natural family gift from the Wildes then?”

The first sentence from his mouth that rang crystal clear in your ears. It sends a chill through you, who was this man and how could he tell you hailed from near the Wildes? You can feel the stares of your other companions on your back.

“Nothing that would be useful in this instance. My born gift was animal speech.”

Gale is easy to brush off the news, “No harm in asking. As we've established few can. Not exactly a common affliction as it were.” He smiles at you all, “Well, I suppose we'll need a healer and soon too.”

You force yourself not to frown as you toy with the plain black band on your middle finger. Spinning it as a pit forms in your stomach waiting for Gale to finish his thought.

“How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”

And there it is, just what you feared. He's joining the party. You spin the ring a few more times calming yourself before turning attention to the other two. Astarion's gaze is unreadable, but he offers no objections. On the other side of the coin is Shadowheart who's gaze is filled with near childish hope and she avidly shakes her head when she's caught your eye.

Swallowing the bile in your fog in your throat you make the decision.

“Th – that would be nice, we need all the help we can get.”

The large grin on his face reaches his eyes and radiates warmth but it leaves a cold pit in your stomach. Something in his way of speech unsettles you, you will tread carefully with the wizard around...perhaps it would suit you to not be so open and forthcoming on this journey.

“Most excellent. A parasite shared is a parasite halved. Or something to that effect.” he jokes.

You give a polite smile and nod, turning to the others you start to open your mouth when Gale interrupts.

“Oh! But before you think you're about to embark on a journey with a most ill-mannered man; thank you for pulling me out of that stone.” he sounds genuine.

But you'd completely forgotten that you had indeed rescued him from being trapped in a portal.

He continues his speech. “It was an act of foresighted kindness I assure you, for I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favor.

With a simple nod you try and brush off the ominous feeling he's left you with. Fiddling a little more with you ring. You do well to school your features as you turn and call for Shadowheart.

“Will you take the lead, I'll fall back for a bit.”

Concerned she steps towards you, “We can take a rest if you need, no need to push yourself.”

A thinly veiled lie, and poor timing since Gale is now part of the party and puts in his two gold pieces.

“Actually, not to be that guy, we most assuredly need to push ourselves. Once again time is very much of the essence here.”

Looking to Gale then back to Shadowheart you give her what you know are your patented puppy eyes and implore her to listen. “That's right, we need to cover as much ground by nightfall. I'm good to take up the rear, I'd just hate to be zoned out and miss something, or have someone get hurt while we have limited supplies and resources.”

Her dark pools search yours, though you know she can't disagree: you know she believes there is some life debt she owes you or something existing in a similar nature. But as it is time is too valuable to waste on another break right now. Begrudgingly she nods and starts off on the path towards the forest. Gale looks to her before facing you and offering a closed eye smile, following after the brunette.

You spin your ring as your gaze follows after him, you have a weird feeling about him. Not bad or dangerous just strange. And you aren't sure why; everything seems normal with the guy. You'll have to keep an eye on him for the time being.

So lost in your own thoughts you don't take note that Astarion has stayed back with you. He waited until both were well out of ear shot before speaking to you.

“So, we've picked up a wizard who managed to get stuck in his own portal? Hardly a promising introduction.” you jolt in surprise as he breaks you out of your thoughts. He chuckles at your reaction and offers a charming smile.

He is hardly wrong about that though, maybe that was the reason for your unease – just how much help could an incompetent wizard be? Sure he had knowledge, but aside from a few terms he'd thrown out you'd all already known most of what he'd said. Was it really beneficial to have him tag along?

“You aren't wrong...” you finally say after some deliberation, “but we also do need all the help we can get.” your eyes lower as you finally concede that point with yourself, “Besides he seems like he knows a lot on the subject.”

Astarion makes a sort of snort scoff and places a hand on your lower back gently guiding you to move and follow after the others before they get too far from sight or worse double back to find you. “I'd hardly say that. He knows about as much as we do aside from a few terms. He's well read if anything and that's not much of a help when it's left him in the same position as us. He brings nothing to the party except two more parasites – so do not allow him to bully you in such a way.”

You look up to him confused, “Bully me?”

He hums, “Oh please, those quips about your magic background and snubs to your born gift.” he glances at you from the corner of his eye glinting in a strange way from this angle. “You intimidate him, a wizard so incompetent he gets lost in his own spell. Meanwhile here you are possessing the ability to commune with beasts and save him from his own magic. You have more control in your hand.”

“...I'll keep that in mind.”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #bg3 #fanfiction #Gifted Snapdragon

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 4 months

Text

Nerf or Nothin'

Summary: JSchlatt hosts an epic Nerf battle and ends up facing off against Reader as Team Captains.

TW/CW: None that I can think of, just Nerf guns, JSchlatt x Reader

Requested?: No

A/N: This totally isn't a dream I had while taking a nap and listening to Sleep Deprived... I HAVE however been binge-watching Sleep Deprived all day lol. Schlatt's voice scratches an itch in my brain and he's fuckin great.

I arrived at the warehouse around thirty minutes early due to my excitement surrounding today’s events. My boyfriend, Schlatt, has arranged a massive Nerf battle with several of our creator friends. I grab my keys and phone before hopping out to grab a box from the trunk which contains several of Schlatt’s Nerf guns, ammo, and some of my own. He had already brought quite a few with him this morning when he came to start set up but asked me to bring these as well.

I remove my sunglasses from my face and place them on my head with my free hand as the door to the warehouse swings shut behind me and my jaw drops. Schlatt had been careful to keep details a surprise from everyone, including me, and now I can see why. The large warehouse floor is dotted with various mats, cushions, and foam walls. Everything is arranged in a sort of city-like fashion but that’s not the best part. On either side of the plush battlefield are two structures that can only be described as adult-sized McDonald’s playgrounds. A red flag flies atop one and a blue for the other.

I spot Schlatt standing near a couple folding tables laden with various Nerf guns and ammo. He has an enormous grin on his face as he admires his creation and Tommy and Jack are having a very animated conversation beside him. I place my box on the table before stepping up behind Schlatt and rubbing his back, “You really outdid yourself with this one, babe. This is amazing.”

He looks down and proudly smiles at me but has no chance to respond as Tommy notices my arrival, “(Y/N)! Can you believe this?! This is insane.”

I giggle as Schlatt wraps his arm around my shoulders, “I know. I’m not sure what I was expecting but it sure wasn’t this.”

Jack whips his head away from the setup and toward me with shock written on his features, “There’s no way in hell you didn’t know about this.”

I grin and look up at Schlatt, “And I quote, ‘Just because you’re my girlfriend doesn’t mean I’m going to spoil the surprise for you.’” He nods once before we are all distracted by the new arrivals. Oompa is literally jumping up and down in excitement as Kris laughs uncontrollably at his side. Mika, Aztro, and Apanda stand absolutely stun-locked just inside the door jaws on the floor. Schlatt throws his hands up with an even bigger grin on his face at our friends’ reactions.

As the guys all begin running around like sugar-high toddlers, Kris makes her way over to my side. “This is going to be so unbelievably fun and entertaining,” she says, watching Schlatt and Oompa wrestle not too far away.

I nod, “He’s been so excited about this ever since he set his plan into motion. He’s almost let slip a few times what he had going but managed to catch himself.”

She nods, impressed, “I’m shocked he kept it to himself.” I shrug as more friends begin to arrive and chaos soon breaks out completely.

Finally, once everyone arrives, Schlatt manages to call everyone to order to explain everything, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to partake in an epic Nerf gun battle. As you may have noticed, we have two structures each with their own flag. The surrounding area is the city and each structure is a castle. There will obviously be two teams. The objective is to get the enemy team’s flag and carry it back to your own castle. If you get hit, and we have to use the honor code here, you will join the enemy team.” Everyone around, including me, gasps and Schlatt grins, “Here’s another gasp-inducing fact,” with that, the lights go down, and many whoop in excitement. There’s still enough light to see what’s right in front of us but not very far. The lights come back on and Schlatt continues, “Myself and Ted will be team captains for the first round. I’ll be on team blue and Ted, on team red. Once our teams are chosen, we’ll have fifteen minutes to collect our weapons and discuss strategy. Once that time is up, everyone will make their way to the back side of their castle. The lights will go out and everyone will have five minutes to get into position. After five minutes, our referees will shout go and we’re off. Once everything is said and done, the losing team captain will pick the captains for the next round. Any question?”

Everyone looks around at each other before shaking their heads. With that, Schlatt allows Ted first pick. Quickly the somewhat large crowd is divided in two and I of course find myself on Schlatt’s team on his first pick. It’s chaos as everyone chooses their Nerf guns and our team captains discretely give out orders and assignments. Quickly, the fifteen minutes is up and everyone takes their place. Schlatt has assigned me the task of collecting the flag and running it back to our castle while he and Oompa watch my back from atop the blue team castle and Tommy and Jack create a diversion.

As the ref calls start, I sneak around the far side of the “map” from where the messy and chaotic diversion breaks out. Ted seems to have gone for a straightforward approach as the majority of his team takes the playing field. I take a mental note of everyone who is missing and make my way to their castle. Somehow, I manage to get in and climb up without anyone noticing. I peek my head over the last step into the room of the flag and find their guards laughing their asses off at the battle down below. I sneakily nab the flag, rolling it up and tucking it under my arm as I make my way down to the floor.

As soon as I step foot onto the mat at the entrance, I hear Ted yell over the cacophony, “Where the hell is (Y/N)? Someone get eyes on (Y/N)!”

Above me, the red team’s guards begin to panic, yelling back to Ted, “Someone got the flag!” Before getting shot with foam darts through the bars.

I glance up to the top of our castle and spot Schlatt and Oompa both grinning from ear to ear, having annihilated my new teammates. Schlatt yells at them, “Get her back to base!”

I duck behind a wall and look up to find them scanning the grounds for me. Soon, they’ve joined me and we quickly pick our way back to Schlatt and Oompa. Once atop our castle, I pull the blue flag out of its stand and replace it with the red one. What’s left of our team cheers as Ted sighs, “I know exactly who the next captains are going to be.”

I cross my arms, “Oh yeah?” He nods and silently points at me and Schlatt.

Beside me, Schlatt groans, “Dudeeeee nooooooo. She’ll be my downfallllll.”

I giggle and take my first pick, “Kris! You’re with me!” Once again, the teams are quickly divided out. As the fifteen-minute prep stage starts, I whisper in Kris’s ear, “You’re gonna be me this time. Sneaky as possible, get in, get out, get back to base.” She grins and nods excitedly as I begin directing the rest of my team. I assign a group to guard our flag, an entire strike team to make it seem like they’re going for the flag, and a couple snipers to watch Kris’s back. My own job is to just screw with Schlatt and Oompa as much as possible from afar.

The start is called and I make my way onto the battlefield with my strike team. I carefully pick at Schlatt and Oompa, mostly Schlatt. My only goal is to annoy the shit out of them not actually tag them. Soon, Oompa yells out to Schlatt, “Kris isn’t out here! Is she up top?”

Schlatt quickly looks around, “You little, shit. Using my own tactic against me,” he yells at me from across the way before directing his attention to his team, “Find her!” At this point, I motion to my strike team to push in further and then turn my attention to my snipers giving them a signal that means switch to rapid fire and volley them. Quickly, their team is whittled to nearly nothing. All that is left is Schlatt, Oompa, and a couple others. At this point, they’re attempting to pick their way through to stop Kris, however unknown to anyone else, she’s already passed the flag off to Jack who is on his way up our castle now. Once I’m sure he’s replaced the flag, I let the fight go on a little longer before finally nailing Schlatt between the eyes with a dart. He grumpily glares at me before turning around and assisting my team in taking out what remains of his. Everyone stops and looks around at each other confused about what to do now as I have overtaken the entire blue team.

Schlatt drops his hands to his sides and shrugs, “I don’t know, I guess the red team wins. I didn’t foresee her going against me,” he looks at me now with a pretend look of anger on his face, “I trained you too well.” I grin triumphantly and say nothing as I point up at our castle where Jack simply grins and waves. Schlatt looks at me wide-eyed, “How? When? What?”

I giggle, “Everybody failed to notice that the flag was handed off. He’s been up there a while now.”

Schlatt struggles to contain his grin before finally giving up and pulling me into a kiss. When we pull away, there’s a grin on his face and everyone quiets their whoops and hollers, “I’m so proud of you.” Everyone aws before Schlatt rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, shut up.” He assigns new captains and before long we’re locked into a third battle.

Schlatt and I got home from our exciting day not too long ago. I make my way back to bed and find Schlatt sleeping peacefully. I brush his hair out of his face which causes him to jolt awake. He looks up at me, brows knitted together, for a moment before mumbling, “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

I smile softly at him, “It’s alright, baby. You’ve had a long day. I can tell you’re exhausted.”

He gently drags me into his side and kisses the top of my head, “Did you have fun today?”

I nod, “Of course I did. Did you?”

He seems to think for a moment before mumbling, “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun.” He pauses, “I still can’t believe you beat me in that second round.”

I giggle, “I’m honestly surprised it worked out.”

He hums quietly but doesn’t say anything. It’s not long before I realize he’s fallen asleep again and drift off myself.

Masterlist

More JSchlatt Imagines

#jschlatt #schlatt imagine #schlatt imagines #schlatt #jschlatt oneshot #jschlatt oneshots #schlatt oneshot #schlatt oneshots #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt imagines

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neon-onyx · 2 years

Text

“Hello hero ~” The villain sang as they skipped into the cell. The hero blinked sleep out of their eyes, tipping their head back over the chair. Pressure from the ropes around them jump started their memory.

“You know, I had the whole plan to rescue you but gotta say-“ the villain rested their hands on the top of the chair. Their eyes raked over the hero’s body, committing the scene to memory. If hero hadn’t known the villains power they would’ve thought they could see the skin under their clothes.

“I love this look on you.” A sick smile spread across the villains face. Blood rushed to the hero’s cheeks.

“Can you untie me already?” The hero met the villains piercing gaze. The villains hand shifted, palm laying flat against their cheek now. Goosebumps erupted on the hero’s skin.

“Now why would I do that?” The villain leaned closer, driving their knee on the small strip of seat available between the hero’s legs.

They were so close. The villains breath on the hero’s skin ignited another bout of blush on the hero’s face. If they just tilted forward a few centimeters their lips would meet, not that the movement was an option for the hero.

“Villain-“ The villain leaned forward. The kiss was brief. Chaste. It was over before the hero had registered it. None the less it sent blood rushing to their face. They dug their teeth into their lips to keep from smiling like an idiot.

“All flustered after one little kiss?” the villain teased. They slid their hand back into the hero’s hair, twisting their fingers at the base of their scalp. A shiver ran up the hero’s spin.

“Untie me v- v-“ the hero’s sentence disolved into a string of incoherent noises as the villain pressed a trail of kisses down the hero’s neck. The hero’s organs must have melted, pooling white hot in their abdomen. The villain shifted their weight, moving to straddle the hero.

“Aren’t you here to rescue me?” The hero’s mouth was dry as the Sahara desert. The villain drew back, smiling down at the hero.

“You want me to stop?” The villain asked, so smugly sure of themselves it made the hero want to swing at them. A cold hand crept under the hero’s shirt. The villains nails dragged slow, intricate patterns on their back that sparked electricity under their skin. The hero’s brain was short circuiting.

“Untie me.” The hero managed to speak without their voice shaking.

“Is that a yes?” The villain tilted their head, wide eyed.

“Villain my teammates are-“ The villain leaned forward, reconnecting their lips. They were cruelly gentle, hands and mouth moving far slower than before. Shouting echoed around the building.

The villain got more aggressive, hands dragging through the hero’s hair, down their neck, across their chest, up their sides. The ropes on the hero’s wrists chaffed their skin. Their hands itched to touch something, anything. The villain was only an infuriating inch away. The villain leaned back, hesitantly stealing another few kisses before standing.

“Your friends will be here soon.” They frowned slightly, eyes scanning the room for an escape that wasn’t the one pair of stairs to the main floor.

“Then hurry. Untie me!” The villain picked something up off the ground, tossing it in their hand for a minute. A heavy feeling settled on their shoulders.

“I’ll see you later hero.” The villain made use of whatever that had grabbed off the ground and hummed it through the thin window on the opposite wall. The glass erupted in a tinkering shower of refracted light.

“You cant leave me like this!” The hero protested, straining against their restraints. A breeze tickled their face.

“They’ll find you in a few minutes. Maybe try a little screaming if they need help.” The villain pressed a final kiss against the hero’s forehead and tossed them a wink as the made their escape.

“I hate you!” The hero shouted after the villain as they climbed out. An eruption of commotion upstairs confirmed them that the villains screaming idea was helping.

It was only a minute later when one of their teammates ran into the cell.

“Christ, what happened to you?”

Thanks for reading. If you liked it check out my masterlist.

#writeblr #villain #hero #mine #hero x villain #short story #short stories #rescue #well sorta

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mannequinreligi0n · 9 days

Text

Metamorphosis

A bite from a lycan provides a fate worse than death for Chris.

WC: 588

WARNINGS: none really, just really grim lol

NOTES: head full of lycan!chris thoughts and hcs, so this might develop into a multi-part thing, but who knowsss. also tumblr ruined the format, so check this out on AO3, if you’d rather read there.

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

Crawling. Itching.

Skin too tight.

Too tight.

Stretching, bending, breaking.

Burning - flames everywhere.

Wildfire runs through veins, scorching every fiber and nerve.

Chris writhed in pain, diving head-first into a tree trunk, grasping at the bark for support. The bite to his shoulder throbbed relentlessly, surging pain and venom throughout his cells. A flashbang of memories sparked through Chris’ brain: soldiers falling, gunfire, yellowed teeth and mirages of hair —

No.

Not teeth. Not hair.

The teeth were fangs, the hair was fur.

Pain. So much pain.

Pain in the eyes of dying commandos, in the wails of fleeing villagers, and in the ache of Chris’ body.

It’s too much.

“Get out! Get out! Get OUT GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!!!”

Blood starts to weep down his brow as he slams his head again and again and again into the tree, trying so hard to shut off the reruns of violence from yesterday. Everyone was dead, everything was for nothing. It’s all his fault. It’s ALWAYS his fault. Why did he take this job? Why did he care so, so much for other people? Why was this —

His train of thought breaks from another eruption of pain. Chris drops to his knees and claws at his clothes.

It’s too hot, they’re too tight.

The clothing reverts to its natural state of mere threads as he tears them from his body, happily accepting the bite of the cold on fevered skin. He flops forward into the snow, staining the innocent white with the shameful red oozing from his shoulder. Chris, weak from blood-loss and guilt, allows his eyes to shutter. He’s dying and he knows it. ‘Finally….no…more…’, he thinks, letting the wave of black take over.

————————-

C R A C K.

With a bellowed scream, Chris’s eyes shoot open and he thrashes his limbs, spine contorting every which way. A hand comes up to wipe blood from his vision, a shriek of fear escaping him soon after.

‘My hands…..what?……how-“

Claws replaced nails on fingers far too long to be human; tufts of brown fur trailed from his arms up to the last knuckle on any given digit. He lifted his other hand up for examination, his stomach churning when he saw the transformation of his other hand happen in real time. Fur sprouted from unseen follicles as bones altered in shape, mangling the human anatomy into one of a beast.

A fate more brutal than death, Chris flailed in the snow, feeling every inch of his body betray him. He was turning into something he spent many long nights fighting. He can’t recall the amount of times he prayed to a god he didn’t even believe in before those fights, asking - no, begging to be spared just one more time.

But sometimes, your all isn’t enough.

Sometimes, your prayers are just words in the wind.

And Chris was scared.

He was so fucking scared.

Tears poured from him - it had been years since he let himself cry so fully. He didn’t care. His body wasn’t his. It was wrong. It was being replaced by a stranger, and no amount of shouting, crying, or praying would save him. He was alone with his tears and despair.

And just as suddenly as Chris’ body wasn’t his, his mind wasn’t either. It was gifted to the beast to be molded to its liking.

The tears stopped.

Pain gone.

Mind blank.

Tabula rasa.

All he was left with was this ancient hunger that was gnawing at the walls of his stomach.

Complete metamorphosis.

#chris redfield #resident evil #chris redfield fanfic #writing #fanfic #oneshot #werewolf!au #werewolf!chris redfield #resident evil 8

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tripleyeeet · 4 months

Text

SWEETER THAN DEATH

SUMMARY: The absorption of a curse has always been disgusting and lonely. Well, at least until Gojo showed up.

PAIRING: Geto Suguru & Gojo Satoru

WORD COUNT: 2,244

WARNINGS: Brief descriptions of vomiting, angst, Geto POV, my own silly headcanons about Geto's connection to curses. :)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, I saw this headcanon and my JJK brain rot grew three sizes in the span of a minute, so I made this. Also, knowing me I'm probably going to get consumed by these two so if you want to be tagged in future JJK stuff just let me know!

MASTERLIST

The flavour is revolting. A combination of putrid acidity and rotten flesh —it’s the kind of taste that would churn even the strongest of stomachs, resulting in Geto himself struggling to suppress it.

As he stands alongside Gojo, imagining the process of its inevitable digestion, he still can’t manage to do it in front of people. Fearing that they might judge his lack of composure each time he has to force the cursed sphere down, he merely pockets it instead. Muttering something along the lines of I’ll save it for when I’m hungry at the same time Gojo stretches his spine, acting none the wiser.

“What do they taste like anyway?”

They taste like death, he wants to say, like a decomposed corpse that’s expelled its insides or a pile of vomit left out in the sun. Instead, though, he just shrugs and tells him they’re flavourless. An empty vessel that fills him up but fails to provide the enjoyment of actually eating a proper meal.

An answer that Gojo thankfully accepts with a nod before moving on—both of them walking down the street as he starts yammering on about whatever topic of interest he’s deemed exciting enough to share. Forever failing to catch on to the fact that all Geto wants is some peace and quiet as they make their way back to campus.

This time it’s movies. Specifically Western ones. None of which Geto has seen or has any interest in, considering all he can think about is the curse that rests against his palm. Specifically how it causes his skin to itch with need despite wanting nothing more than to toss it as far as he can so that he doesn’t have to experience it slipping down his throat.

He’s still not entirely sure why it happens but after a curse has been exorcized it’s as if this connection forms inside his brain. One that requires him to swallow the damned thing as quickly as possible, assuming there’s some sort of time limit. As if he doesn't, something bad might happen. So much so that, even now, even though it’s only been a few minutes since he initially got rid of it, he can feel it calling out to him in the back of his mind. Begging for him to eat —screaming at him to absorb its contents until suddenly they find themselves in the heart of Kyoto.

At which point Geto can hardly contain the temptation. Palming the sphere with tightened fingers, it’s as if he can feel the curse inside pressing against the outer walls. Its voice echoing overtop of whatever Gojo’s saying now. Forcing him to close his eyes and breathe as he digs his nails into his own flesh, forcing his hands to his sides rather than inside the pockets of his pants.

“It looks so good! We should definitely see it when it comes out!” Gojo practically yells —most likely still talking about movies, prompting Geto to press his lips into a false smile and nod.

Something he does quite often these days thanks to the amount of missions they’ve been going on.

“Do you have a favourite?”

In response, he blinks, trying to force himself to return to the conversation. To seem like he’s present and calm rather than bursting at the seams with fear. “Hm?”

“Movie, Suguru!” Gojo chastises, rolling his eyes at Geto’s lack of attention as he shoves his arm. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Course.”

“Liar!”

This time Geto rolls his eyes. Unable to come up with a clever rebuttal thanks to the curse’s desire to be consumed as quickly as possible.

“I swear, you’re always elsewhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“That head of yours.” Before he can process what Gojo is doing he feels his index finger pressed against his forehead, pushing him backwards roughly. Forcing Geto to grunt at the impact before swatting away his hand. “It’s got you distracted.”

“I’m not distracted.”

“Then what’s my new favourite movie?”

Again, Geto fails to come up with a response, resulting in the humiliated feeling of Gojo Satoru being right. A feeling so utterly embarrassing that for a moment he forgets that he should be excusing himself to feed. To give in to the pressure of the curse’s voice penetrating every corner of his mind. To force the rotting flavour down his throat so that he can once again feel nothing.

It takes a while, but eventually, when there’s a pause in Gojo’s one-sided conversation, he lies and says he has to go to the bathroom. Another excuse his friend accepts without question, pulling out his phone while Geto walks a block back before dipping into the nearest alleyway. Completely unaware of the shaking hands that pull the curse out of Geto’s pants pocket.

EAT ME. EAAAT ME.

By the time he’s out of sight, the voice is borderline hysteric as it sits in his hand. Causing him to narrow his eyes in annoyance, almost immediately he raises the sphere to his mouth while clearing his throat, preparing the space with reluctant thoughts. Wishing just once he can find it in himself to consume without struggle. To taste without the urge to vomit. To feel, just this once, like his ability is more than just a fucking curse.

Swallowing hard, he does his best to imagine something else in his mouth. Dorayaki, cheesecake —hell even those awful black sesame cookies his mom used to make when he was a kid. Anything to distract himself from the truth as he slips the curse between his lips, immediately gagging when the acrid taste first hits his tongue.

He isn’t sure why but every time feels worse than the last. As if the continual ingestion of these creatures is somehow rotting him from the inside out. Consuming his quality of life each time he’s forced to absorb it.

Which is ultimately an assumption he thinks about often. Considering that’s all he’s become lately, the idea that he’s been deemed as nothing more than some glorified maid being sent out to clean up messes really pisses him off. Especially because he knows that despite being an equal level to Gojo, the only reason he’s allowed to tag along is because everyone knows he’s a liability. A potential threat they might need to subdue in the future.

Deep down, he knows he’s one wrong thought away from being subdued. After exorcising and absorbing over and over and over again, he can feel the madness slipping through. All the questions of whether or not it’s worth it to continue running rampant through his thoughts as he inevitably spits the curse out, heavily breathing through the rancid taste of failure yet again.

Under his breath, he swears and roughly grips the curse feeling his limbs begin to twitch —the angered voice returning before he can even think to suppress it.

EATMEEATMEEATMEEATME!

And all he wants is to listen. To grant the voice it's wish so that he may get his. But at the back of his mind, all he can think about is death. How it lingers against his taste buds, filling every crevice of his mouth with the kind of flavour he’d hardly wish upon his worst enemy. How it causes his thoughts to shift to a world where curses no longer exist. A world where he can finally live and breathe and—

“Suguru?”

He’s on his knees panting through the pain. Still gripping onto the sphere, instead of raised into the air it’s wedged between the concrete and his palm. Becoming more and more pressurized the longer Geto stares at Gojo’s frame, realizing he’s been had. That the illusion of his strength has been reduced to weakness in a matter of seconds.

A fact that makes him wish the taste inside his mouth was real. That instead of death on his tongue there was instead death in his heart. In his stomach and his lungs —spreading throughout his system in a path that would eventually lead to nothing but darkness.

Kneeling on the ground, he wishes he were dead instead of staring into the bluest eyes he’s ever seen, watching them narrow with worry. Seeing them twist and turn into shapes filled with panic and confusion and pity until they’re sitting directly in front of him.

“What’s wrong?”

For a while, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he only lowers his head and closes his eyes, allowing the breath of his lungs to filter through his tainted throat. Desperately attempting to coat it in a layer of something other than the leftover flavour of the curse until he’s able to look at Gojo, muttering out a pained bad.

“Bad?”

He nods his head, watching Gojo glance around the alley. Paying no mind to the curse in his hand until eventually it clicks and all he can do is stare. Focusing on the way Geto’s fingers angrily grip the sphere. Most likely wondering why he’s spent all his time lying about something so trivial as taste.

“I thought you said they don’t taste like anything.”

Despite everything, all Geto does is laugh darkly, shaking his head. Trying to act as calmly as possible even though the curse's voice is fully ripping its way through his mind now.

“Guess I really am a liar.”

“Do they always taste bad?” Gojo asks, reverting the subject to its original topic. Prompting Geto to wonder why he cares to question an answer that’s so obviously right in front of him in the first place.

Because sure, Gojo’s always been a bit ignorant of these kinds of things, deeming himself too important not to be given exactly what he wants regardless of how easy it is. But he’s never acted like that with him. At least, not in such a personal way. Not in a way that could result in some sort of crossed boundary.

So, it throws him off. As he looks back up, watching Gojo’s hand tentatively rise to cup his cheek. How his thumb shifts to stroke the highest point of his bone structure before brushing away the loose hairs that have fallen in front of his face. How somehow the tenderness of his touch feels like the most painful thing he’s ever experienced, unaware of whether his actions are the result of pity or not.

Which is why he brushes him off. Throwing his arm in the way of his friend’s lingering hand, he can’t help but groan at the sudden lack of contact as he falls back. His back crashing against the brick wall behind him as he glares into Gojo’s eyes.

As it happens, Gojo jumps at the sudden movement but doesn’t do anything to stop it. Instead, merely allowing Geto to stir in his anger as he hugs the curse against his chest, trying not to cry.

Because despite the strength he manages to exude each time he stands alongside Gojo, deep down he always feels this weak. As he blinks back tears, hearing the repetitive chant of the curse in his hands —feeling the madness it inflicts as Gojo inches a bit closer, telling him that he’s okay in such a contradictive way— all he can do is sit. And stare. Attempting to calm himself down as Gojo shoves a hand into his pocket, eventually producing a closed fist.

“Here.”

Almost immediately, Geto looks at him with confusion. The kind of look that results in Gojo scoffing in annoyance and opening his palm to reveal a piece of candy.

“Listen, I don’t know if it’ll help but—“

“I’m fine.”

“Sure, okay… but maybe it’ll make it easier.”

He wants to tell him that it won’t. That no matter how hard he tries to get rid of the taste that remains long after he’s consumed a curse, it’s always there. Sitting in the farthest corners of his body, waiting for their chance to become present once again. Waiting to make him feel disgusting and weak and—

“Stop being so prideful and take the damn candy, Suguru.”

Before he can deny him again Gojo grabs one of his hands and places it in the centre. Keeping it locked lightly around Geto’s wrist as the two of them continue to stare, wondering what the other’s thinking. Both of them trying to find the best way to go about this vulnerable moment they’ve just shared until Gojo lets him go.

At which point Geto feels that tinge of pain again. The one where he isn’t sure why his friend is doing this. Why, instead of chastising him for a weakness he’s repeatedly lied about, he’s offering support. Why he’s sitting there, allowing him to sift in the screams of this spherical curse for as long as he needs.

“It gets worse every time,” he eventually tells him. Unable to hold back the way his voice breaks through each syllable. A sound that further paints just how weak he is at this moment as Gojo sighs.

“What does it taste like?”

“Death.”

“Death?”

He nods just as Gojo starts to look around, eventually producing a small grin that leaves Geto confused all over again, watching him reach out to touch his head again.

“Guess we’ll need to get you something sweeter then,” his friend suggests, and despite knowing that still probably won’t help, Geto merely nods again, feeling Gojo’s fingers ruffle roughly through his hair before he’s suddenly standing up and offering a hand Geto isn’t quite sure he deserves to hold.

#sweeter than death #geto suguru #gojo satoru #geto suguru x gojo satoru #geto x gojo #jjk fan fic #geto fan fic #gojo fan fic #summer writes

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