#though i must imagine others have told this joke before

[pennamepersona]

durge run more like bhaalanced mode

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 dark urge #jeb bush voice please clap #thought of this last night and I'm convinced I'm the funniest person on the planet #though i must imagine others have told this joke before

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (vi) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : y/n can only deflect her crush on matt for so long

warnings : smut, banter/cuteness, angst at the end

mickey speaks : sooooooo. yeah. enjoy! (also i imagine lucas as luka sabbat)

THIS IS PART SIX GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST PLS

“I’M kind of hungry though,” you groan as you stand in front of your open and very bare (besides two scrawny carrots and a few of andrea’s energy drinks) fridge, pouted mouth and limp wrist holding your phone to your ear.

“i’m sure you are, you always seem to be fucking hungry,” matt’s attitude laces into his comment’s comedic undertone.

“don’t be mean,” you close the fridge and begin to look through the many cabinets in your kitchen that are somehow just as bare. “how the fuck are we completely out of food?!”

“ask your fuckin- move out of the way! go! now, move!” matt’s voice cuts into a rage as his attention directs to the cars around him, who he’d debate the validity of their drivers licenses.

his loudness has you pulling your phone away from your ear to let him finish, then bring it back towards you, “hey, let’s use our inside voices when on the phone with someone…” you smile at your own joke as you dig through a never ending junk drawer for a pen.

“hmm let’s go to the grocery store more often so we’re not having our sneaky link take us to eat,” his comeback is as quick as his lane switching.

“well you sure know how to make a girl feel special,” your sarcasm spews as you begin to write out a list for a much needed grocery trip with andrea tomorrow.

“what are you hungry for?” he speaks over the chimes of his turn signal.

“i don’t know,” you mumble clearly not too focused on figuring out what you’d like to eat.

“what’re you doing right now?” he asks.

“nothing,” you say while biting your inner cheek trying to remember the specific brand of orange juice that andrea recently discovered she prefers.

“okay, i’m pulling up in like five, figure out where you wanna go.”

“please?” you question where his manners are among the frequent demands he throws at you.

“mhm, that too.” he half-asses an agreement, “bye.”

you drop your pen and respond with a quick ‘bye’ before hanging up the phone and tucking it into your purse along with your keys.

౨ৎ

matt's car smells of warm citrus and eucalyptus, in contrast to the coolness of the air he currently has blowing. you glance over to him once you're settled into the leather passenger seat, giving you a view of his soft side profile and torso covered with one of his many black hoodies (as if california temperatures weren’t currently at their highest) that fit his figure well, as he focuses on adjusting his hair in the pull down mirror.

the only light source in the car comes in the soft, off-white lighting synced to the mirror, that shines just enough for you to see his full smirk and head shake when you joke, “got someone to look good for?”

he mutters a light, “barely,” before placing the mirror back against the ceiling and changing gears smoothly. “your babysitter didn’t question you?”

you shake your head and begin to buckle your seatbelt, “no, she’s out with some coworkers for a drink. what about yours?”

“didn’t even notice i left.” he shrugs then gestures to the navigation screen that’s now dimly lit, “where do you wanna eat?” your silence speaks volumes to him, “how'd i just know you'd pull this shit? i told you to have it figured out by the time you got in the car!” he groans and looks over to you.

you try to hide a smile due to his irritance, “okay, and what if i just don’t know, matt?!” your hands turn and face the ceiling to show the genuine unsureness of your appetite.

“then, you must not be that hungry,” he shrugs.

you redirect your eyes from him to the road in front of you, “i miss when you were quietly mean, now you’re all obnoxious and loud about it.”

a smirk finds its way to matt's face as he continuously looks from you to the road until you finally look back over to him. “sorry, that was also mean. i don’t hate when you talk, even though you’re rude as fuck.”

matt laughs off the apology he wasn't even seeking from you, “jesus, i wasn't gonna cry over it.”

your stomach is weeping and begging for you to pick a place to eat at this point causing you to lean your head against the window (though you find the vibrations from the motor and awkward dips from the road make the position more uncomfortable than anything) and eye the blurs of brightly lit, primary colored signs. it becomes a little dizzying but eventually slows as matt eases on the brakes.

during the brief pause you take time recognize your surroundings more and just as matt starts to go through the intersection, a breath gets caught in your throat when you spot a small local store you remember going to with remi for lunch a few months back, “wait!”

matt slams on his brakes with a sudden look of fear in his eyes, rocking the both of you far forward then slamming you back into the seats. his face turns to frustration when you laugh a little and ask, “can we stop at that bodega right there?” while pointing out the window.

he raises a hand in view of his back windshield to apologize to the person behind him as he speeds off again and scolds you, "do you have any fucking etiquette?"

"oh wow, that’s a big word for you, matt!" you celebrate. he then takes a sharp turn into the rural parking lot, making you grip the side door as you jump along with the car.

you watch as he easily parks the car and turns off the ignition with a huff, "i doubt some convenience store snacks are gonna hold you over, but whatever."

"never doubt a small local market, this place has a bomb ass hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop and you wouldn’t even know." you defend while opening the car door.

౨ৎ

you lead matt inside while he unashamedly stares at how your hips move as you walk- your skin naturally exposed due to your low waisted lounge pants and small tank top (which makes him want to do nothing more than squeeze, lick, and kiss the area).

you greet the bored cashier the way you tend to greet anyone: as if you know them, and make your way to the back side of the store, the smell of toasted bread gaining potence in the air as you approach.

matt continues to follow as he glances around the very average looking store, with aisles of typical name-brand foods and drinks.

you stop near a bulletin board with a makeshift menu and read over each option. when matt gets closer to you, you feel the need to explain yourself as if it wasn't clear enough, "'m tryin' to figure out what i want."

he only replies with an "mhm," as he focuses on options for himself.

you both take turns separately ordering and paying for food (of course you had to tease him for making it seem as though you being hungry was such a hassle) and find a small table to sit at.

you fiddle with the table caddy, "watch. this will be the best sandwich of your life."

matt sits opposite of you, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, "better be. you had me driving crazy to get to this place."

"i said i was sorry about that!" you dramatically remind him of the apology you gave him when you two initally walked up to the store.

“order for y/n?” the same man (with a heavy east coast accent) you ordered from peeks his head out.

you send matt a smile before getting up and walking over to the window, “thank you so much, it smells amazing.” you compliment.

“‘course and, uh, we’ve got that second order ready as well if you want to take it over,” he offers.

“yeah, i’ll go ahead and take it.” you take the wrapped and acronym-labeled sandwiches in each hand, thanking him once more before beginning to walk over to the table.

“oh how sweet are you? bringin’ my sandwich to me and shit,” matt chuckles as he runs his tongue over his teeth casually.

“a ‘thank you’ would’ve been more than enough,” you take your seat again. the shuffles of wax paper wrapping and distant chimes of the bell near the entrance is the only noise surrounding both of you for your first few bites.

you pause eating to ask, “how’s your sandwich?” you direct your sandwich towards him as both of your hands are occupied in holding said sandwich.

he covers his mouth with a fist as he finishes chewing, nodding his head to give away his answer. he’s not really one to eat for flavor alone so his answer is mediocre, “yeah, it’s good. yours?” he questions while going in for another bite.

“so amazing,” you draw out and jokingly moan into your next bite.

matt’s face scrunches and he can’t wait until the food is out of his mouth to deliver his comment, “gross, just eat your food without all the effects.”

you put up your index finger so that you can swallow before replying, “you really have the nerve to say that through the shit ton of food in your mouth?”

he shrugs and gives a sarcastic smile with his cheeks bunched out and full of his sandwich.

you take a sip of your diet coke before asking, “‘kay, so what’d you do today?” you’re just generally curious and admittedly not the best at being quiet or reserved when around other people.

matt sighs, “you know…talking really takes away the point of this.”

“oh my god, answer the question. don’t be unfun, matt.”

“’m just tryin' to eat,” he laughs through his nose.

“okay, then i’ll go first but you still have to tell me about your day after,” you decide.

“fine,” matt uses a napkin to wipe his mouth a little.

“well, i woke up so fucking early today, i had to get to work by like 5:30 to start helping with an order of six cakes. luckily we prepped a lot the day before and carmen is like the best coworker to have to do that long shift with.”

“six cakes? for one order?”

“yeah, it was for a family reunion and they called about some dietary restrictions for certain cakes plus the different flavors- just shit to make our job harder. but love my job regardless, and the woman who picked them up looked so happy,” you take another sip of your drink, “but after that i went home and basically napped until you called.”

“this is the first thing you’re eating today?” he doesn’t care too much that you haven’t eaten today, rather uses it as an excuse to get you to continue eating so the you both can leave (or maybe this is just what he tells himself).

“i mean i ate some boiled eggs whenever i had down time at work, but yeah i guess.”

“and look at you, wasting your time yappin’ instead of eating. there’s truly no helping you,” he shakes his head slowly back and forth in faux disappointment.

you ignore him, “okay, your turn.” his eyebrows pinch and he takes a sip of his drink, telling you he won’t be answering if you don’t start to eat, “look! i’m eating,” you take a bite to prove yourself.

“right…uhh what did i do today?” he looks up in memory. “i tatted some guy’s face earlier, i guess that was a bit intense.”

“um, yeah that’s intense, what’d he get?!”

“the outline of peru above his cheekbone." matt circles the area on his own face, "it was actually really sentimental; he told this whole story about his mom immigrating here from peru.“

“that's so sweet. did he say why he wanted it on his face?”

matt shrugs, “he wanted to try somewhere he hasn’t before.”

you nod, “and was this your first face tat?”

“no, i’ve done a few before, just haven’t in a while.” matt leans back and scratches the back of his neck to stretch. “ever since i posted that pic of your tat i’ve been booked by all theses girls who want cartoon designs, now nick’s pissed i’m stealing his clientele since ‘it’s his specialty.’”

“well my hello kitty is precious so i can't blame them." you pause, "are you fucking these girls too?” you look at matt before you begin to giggle to yourself and take your final bite.

matt’s eyes widen and he lets a small laugh escape, “no, that kinda luck can only come so often. and how slutty would i be to hookup with all of my clients?” though he wouldn’t call you strictly a client anymore- but he doesn’t correct it since he’s unsure if the two of you are necessarily friends either.

“one: don’t hype yourself too much, two: there’s nothing wrong with being a slut, matt. you should embrace your nature.” you smile before gesturing to his last bit of sandwich and mocking, “catch up now, you’ve been doing all that talking and no eating! i'm starting to lose hope.”

౨ৎ

"matt, where the fuck are we?" you raise yourself up a little to look around. you’re parked in a large city center parking lot with few cars and dimming street lights.

“shhh, sit down.” he absentmindedly calms you, speaking in a low voice while typing on his phone. you lean back into your seat, bored enough that you opt to watching your hands rise and fall with your stomach as you breathe.

he continues tapping at the screen for the entirety of the next song, making you grow impatient and confused. is he expecting you to make the first move right now? did he bring you here to have sex? who the fuck is he texting?

you move yourself closer to him so that your elbows rest against the center console and hold your head up. "matt," you whisper.

he doesn't answer but you notice his eyebrows are furrowed and angled.

"matt," you repeat and guide your hand up his arm, firmly squeezing his shoulder.

"mm?" he looks over to you for a second, then out the windshield before his eyes fixate on his phone once more.

"what'd you bring me here for...?" your voice is laced with intentional seduction as your hand moves back down his arm to play with the slim silver bracelet hanging on the wrist of his occupied hand.

"y/n, hold on," somehow his voice is just as distracted as his eyes.

you pout, "can you, like, look at me?" you see him picking at the skin of his lip, only looking at you when your hair falls in front of his phone as you lean to press your lips to the hand you've been messing with.

he moves his hand to capture your bottom lip softly between his thumb and the side of his index finger, finally giving in with a small “yeah?”

before you get a word out a few taps hit matt’s window making both of you flinch and pull back. you’re so caught off guard and feel exposed in a way after having your face so close to matt’s lower half. you’re nervous as to why someone would randomly come to matt’s window, until matt willingly lowers it.

you move your head to the side to get a better view of the lanky man with deep caramel skin and arched dimples that pop when he speaks, “yooo, matt! what’s up?” they dap each other up through the open window.

“fucking finally,” matt sighs with a laugh.

he kisses his teeth, “look i got your shit right here. have some faith in me, brother.” he leans to grab a small bag from one of his cargo pant pockets as matt reaches for his sleek black wallet.

you try to keep yourself leveled and not ask a million questions about this whole predicament, but you’re feeling quite left out.

matt carelessly grabs the plastic bag from the guy while he continues to sift through his wallet with only one hand, before handing you the bag without even looking your way. once it’s in your hand you use the light of your phone to get a better look, noticing the unground weed in the bag. you scrunch your face and place it in your lap.

you don’t pick up on much of matt’s conversation until you’re brought up, “who’s your friend?” the guy leans further onto the car.

“no one you’d need to know,” matt shrugs, pulling out a few unscathed bills and handing them with a smile.

you squint your eyes at the insult to your existence he's implied calling you ‘no one,’ before reaching over matt with an extended hand, “hi, i’m y/n.”

he glances at matt, who’s shooting daggers into the side of your head with his eyes, then looks to you, “i’m lucas, nice to meet you.” his eyes and smile both very dopey.

“how’d you meet such a hush guy like matt?” you inquire and feel a smile forming as matt surprisingly allows you to continue this conversation.

“his brother nick does like all of my tattoos,” he pulls up his sleeve to show a collection of pieces in various styles. “next thing i know, i got three trusty customers!” he giggles and looks to matt who puts on an obvious fake smile. you turn your face to see him and feel yourself smile wider at his expense.

“yep…” matt replies.

you quickly turn back to lucas and look closer at his sleeve, “oh wow, nick is fucking talented.” matt fights from moving you back into your seat and driving off as fast as possible. “matt actually gave me one,” you lift yourself back into your seat, using matt’s thigh for support, and begin to move your shirt out of the way.

“hmm, right,” matt takes your shirt in his own hand to cover the spot once more, “we actually have somewhere to be like now.” he looks over to lucas and gives an impressively collected smile, “‘m sorry to cut it short, man. you know we gotta hang out soon.”

“for sure, i’ll have to text you," lucas nods, "and maybe i’ll see you around too, y/n. just stay pretty.” he points to you as he back away from the car. “get her home safe now, matthew.” he throws in the extra joke.

“uh huh, thanks for the smoke,” matt chuckles dryly and gives a bitter half-ass peace sign before rolling his window up. he looks over to you, with your legs sprawled in an awkward yet comfortable way and full smile on your flushed face, “fuck are you smilin’ about?”

“you brought me here for a fucking drug deal?!” you try to control the laugh in your throat.

“look you got your sandwich, i got my weed,”

“i don’t think those are com-” you mumble even though matt’s words never pause for you.

“we both were dragged somewhere, so it’s fair.” matt shrugs with pouted lips as he lifts the center console in search of the dope he’d just bought, “where’d you put it?” you then hold the bag up for him to see, but as he reaches for it you move back slightly. “you’re not funny, dude, give it.”

“come get it,” you look at the bag then over to matt’s unentertained face.

“y/n, that shit won’t work on me. we’re in my car and you don’t know the first thing about rolling.” he props his hand up expecting you to give up at this point. “stop playing.”

“why can’t you just play a little matt? you’re so worked up and mad most of the time,” your cheeks puff a little when you let out an annoyed breath.

“i wouldn’t say mad but,” matt’s eyes widen with the word in exaggeration but he knows you don’t actually want to debate over his mood so he recovers smoothly, moving his body to fully face you, “ alright, we can play, sweetheart.”

he leans closer, “how about about we play you give me my shit and then i’ll fuck you,” in reality the bag of weed is easily within snatching range, but the tension of coercing it out of you entertains matt more.

“that’s not a fun trade when you were gonna do that anyway,” the way your full lips move has matt itching to lay them against his own.

“no i wasn’t,” he whispers, and now that you’ve both now gravitated towards each other, practically at each other’s faces, you get a special view of his eyes and the way his cheeks pinch inward when he lies.

“really?”

he plays along, nodding while looking down in faux disappointment, though you can see him start to hide a giggle of some sort.

“damn. maybe i’ll have to take your phone next and get lucas to come back for me.” you sigh, and go to reach for his phone.

matt grabs your hand looks back to your devious face. “hell no, keep my friends off your roster.”

you purse your lips, “oh really? but you can do whatever you want with my-?” you’re cut off with a small kiss that grows as you reciprocate.

you’re too caught up in the proximity and heat to focus on matt’s hand that finds and takes the bag without fight. he pulls away (far too quickly) just to tease, “too easy.” he holds the bag up and stashes it in his side door. “and now you’ll have to wait until we get back to mine.”

౨ৎ

matt's beyond frustrated when he shows up to find his driveway lined with cars and general rowdiness that can be seen through the windows. you had some jokes at his expense to make as he drove off and away from his house to find the street you're currently parked on.

he's pretty silent until he eventually gets over himself due to his extreme horniness he's suppressed for longer than he expected when calling you. "well, 'm sorry my house is a bit occupied at the moment."

you face him, "no, it's fine." you unbuckle your seatbelt and move to hover over his face, placing a small kiss on his lips then pulling away, "right?"

matt raises his head to look at you, making you glance away from his eyes and down to his lips as you lick your own. and just as your tongue slips back into your mouth, matt is recapturing your lips in a needy kiss.

as the kiss deepens he takes a hold of the area where your head and neck split, holding any of your hair there with it. your tongue plays against his lips before he finally allows you to feel into his mouth a little.

you both kiss and play with each others' lips as he moves his hands to feel down your waist and tug on your waistband to urge you closer to him. you don’t listen though, instead greedily enjoying the slow movement of your lips.

matt pulls away at your disobedience and reclines his seat in one swift motion. you sigh to yourself at the loss of contact, still angled oddly over the center as you bite your bottom lip to mimic matt’s kiss.

he pats his lap and reaches for your arm, softly demanding, “c’mere.” with his physical encouragement you move your body to crawl onto him and settle easily in his lap. matt’s eyes never leave the place where your bodies meet as his hands squeeze at your hips and then your ass.

you lean down to kiss at his neck, causing your boobs to go into matt’s line of sight. he brings his hands up to give them a small squeeze before reaching into your tiny tank top to expose them fully.

you moan into his neck and lift yourself up to watch as matt swirls his tongue around your left nipple while caressing the right. “mmm,” you hum and encourage while your hands play with the hair at the nape of matt’s neck.

he lets go of one with a small pop, muttering “you’re so hot,” against the other. as your hips grind softly you can feel his dick, heavy and hard under you. he pauses his play, “you feel it, sweetheart, go ahead and do somethin’ about it.”

you moan softly and begin to grind against him. he continues to suck and fiddle with your nipples until they're sensitive and causing you to whine.

you then slowly adjust your tits back into place and crawl lower, watching your head of the wheel and watching your legs of the pedals. matt assumingly leans back and plays with the drawstring of his shorts while licking his lips, watching your every move. and finding it very fucking hot that you want to suck his dick so bad you’d sit on the rough, brushed carpet of his car.

you run your fingers up his thighs and beg with your eyes for matt to show himself to you. eventually, he purses his lips and begins to adjust his pants lower, relieving his member of anticipation.

you bite at your bottom lip subconsciously as you adjust yourself closer to him. matt keeps hold of the base, tapping himself against your closed mouth a few times, before you reveal your tongue to him. you run your mouth over him once before gathering your sticky saliva to spit softly on his tip. matt whines at the sensation and grows louder the second you take him fully into your mouth.

the way his eyebrows ruffle together and his mouth forms the most perfect ‘o’ shape is so breathtaking and drives you to continue working him in hopes that he only grows needier.

one of his hands finds the back of the headrest to grip while the other begins to move your hair for you into a harsh, makeshift ponytail. “mmm, fuck. keep goin’, baby.”

you allow all of him into your mouth, reaching the back of your throat before you pull off of him and begin to use your hand on his slick cock. “you like that?” you ask and you look so innocent and so genuinely intrigued at his answer that he can only answer in a groan. you kiss his tip in your own exchange of words with him without actually saying anything, then swirl your tongue around it as you bring him back into your wet mouth.

“yeah- just like that, mmm.” his voice is rough and strained a little as he guides your head continuously. your pace changes over the next few strokes, growing rapid and sloppier with time. matt's low moans and words of encouragement leave you feeling both desperate for his release and your own pleasure and fulfillment he'd give you afterwards.

without warning you, he takes hold of your head and forces himself fully in your mouth, unapologetically spilling his cum down your throat. once he's slumped and breathing heavily you pull off of him, a string of grotesque spit attaching you and his spent dick, and wipe your face with the back of your hand softly.

you force him to make room for you and sit up as you crawl back into his lap, the skin of your knees indented with the carpet's texture. "you're so fucking good," matt compliments in a daze while holding the bridge of his nose.

you kiss the corner of his open mouth and smirk, "too easy."

౨ৎ

"why does it keep biting me?!" chris yelps.

you and andrea never expected to own any kind of pet in recent years, due to both of your awkward schedules and mutual irresponsibility for your actions (finding it appropriate that you both learn to care for yourselves before an animal, no matter how tempting). but that was before you both found a tiny black kitten near a local bus stop that almost had you in tears.

you scooped him up easily and held him in your lap the entire drive home with andrea looking over and cooing at each red light she'd hit.

the entire day was spent googling, then bathing him, then googling if it was okay to use dish soap on a baby kitten, all while you both were clawed at and splashed the entire time.

but you and andrea have settled into cat motherhood well. recently you both went half on buying a cat tree (that is honestly way too big for your tiny living area) and decided to get your friends to help build it.

"he probably doesn't like you," nick suggests while twisting a screwdriver, legs sprawled on the floor.

"i'm sure he doesn't like anything with a name like figaro." chris deepens his voice when stating the cat's name and rolls his eyes.

"shut up, chris!" andrea calls from the kitchen.

"y/n, do you guys have any batteries?" erin asks as she opens the packaging of the cat toy she brought as a gift for figaro.

you smile at the ball of black fur at her side, clumsily punching the cardboard and plastic wrapping before nodding your head and placing your glass on the table, "yeah, which kind?"

"uh, triple a, three of them please."

you head to a closet down the hall to gather the batteries, fumbling with the top shelf a little. you don't hear when the bathroom door next to you opens and matt walks out, only recognizing when you hear his voice, "need some help?"

"no, thank you," you glance at him behind you and smile, giving a final stretch to reach the packaging. "see?" you show him the package in your hand proving he had no reason to even ask.

he smirks and stops you from closing the closet door just yet, "you look nice." you thank him and aren't surprised at what falls from his mouth next, "kinda need to paint with you soon."

"i'm sure you do," you almost laugh, due to both matt's undying horniness and the continued reference to painting.

he looks into your eyes carefully as he feels for your side and swipes his thumb over your tattoo. his mouth comes closer, right below your ear, "i'm not playin', i miss it." he leaves a kiss at the spot before he backs away and places his hands together in a prayer position, rocking them back and forth, mouthing "please."

the both of you almost laugh just before he turns to walk back to the group and remi calls for you to bring her a drink on your way back.

only when you're back in the living room your smile, matt once put on your face, drops as your eyes immediately catch erin and matt talking, her leg leaning far onto his as he reads the instructions and makes dry jokes about the toy she'd bought figaro.

you dont interrupt, placing the batteries near erin and taking a seat next to remi. you don't let your emotions manifest in your actions, even if you're starting to feel it a little extra when matt manages to remind you that you really are nothing but a nice fuck to him.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper @deadxrx @breeloveschris @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @hearts4chris @starrysturniolo @blissfulbellss @aoxash @st7rnioioss @blondiesjailer @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @sturnioloa @thinkingabkinkyshit101 @tcvazq @novasturniolo03

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #sturniolo triplets smut #matt sturniolo x black!reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader

[w2sology]

can i request a wedding day fic for harry pls? no worries if not. could also be a wedding day hc if that’s easier. thank u!

YES YES YES i'm so in love w this idea.... and i’m also so in love w harry 😣 tried not to make the descriptions of things too specific bc i know everyone has a different idea of what they want their wedding to be like, so most of this is up to ur imagination! <3

mrs wroetoshaw, harry lewis.

summary: you and harry get married, and it's full of so many emotions.

warnings: language, wedding jitters, that's about it!

you both being a nervous mess. it's a canon event.

both of you in separate rooms but still feeling united in your panic

the boys would be trying to reassure harry whilst he pretty much undresses himself in stress, complaining that it's too hot

the girls trying to make sure you don't cry and ruin your makeup

but eventually you both get over it, realising that it's your special day and it's also the day you and harry become best friends for life

the girls all telling you how they've always known you were going to be mrs wroetoshaw from the beginning and you tearing up at that

he would be an absolute mess seeing you walk down the isle, he told everyone he wouldn't cry but god was he wrong...

is it really harry if he doesn't drop a few jokes in his speech? exactly.

olive as your ring bearer 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

once the ceremony part is over, everyone is honestly so glad that they made it through in one piece

being ambushed with kisses and hugs of congratulations from everyone !!!!

harry had his suit matching your dress, down to his socks and underwear bc happy wife = happy life xo

the after party... the boys literally could not wait for it

best man and maid of honour speeches pretty much exposing the both of you but you wouldn't have it any other way!

the slow dance us a must, and even though he'd nag on about how cringe it was, harry would be loving every moment of it

"you're so beautiful" and "can't believe i made you mine for life" being whispered to you by him all day

harry can't wait to use the phrase "my wife", he's literally been using it since you two got engaged tbf

"can this thing end already so we can christen the new home?"

"harry! we haven't even cut the cake yet."

handsy harry. SO handsy. he literally can't believe that he's married because he never saw himself as the type to settle down, but here he is and he's gonna show that off

once he has a few drinks in him he really starts to let loose

and so do you!

dancing with your girls, holding a random child's hands as you bask in the joy of the day

the older guests start to retire to their hotel rooms or homes before everyone else, and when the party starts to die down, harry quite literally scoops you up in his arms and leaves

lots and lots of smiley kisses, kisses on your cheek... anywhere that he can reach

harry fiddling with your ring, something he's always done when you wear them but this time, it feels more special.

you already making plans on what you'll do as a married woman, harry rolling his eyes but you already know he'd be right behind you

he'd be in such a hurry trying to undress himself when you guys get back to your room, a giggling mess in between a make-out session as he tries to take off his top

"i love you so much," he's mumbling to you. "my pretty, pretty wife."

and you're in for a hell of a ride.

#wroetoshaw #wroetoshaw x reader #sidemen x reader #sidemen #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw imagines #harry lewis #harry lewis x reader

[bloodstainedsaint]

noises in the bedroom with ron, lew, lieb, luz, and shifty

word count: 770+

warnings: reader has female genitalia, degradation (only in ron's), praise, teasing, i call nixon a whore for the reader (it's true)

notes: i couldn't include babe in this one cause i just decided that i would write for him (and therefore i must do Research) but hope you guys enjoy anyway !!

ronald speirs

big on praise-degradation, like 50/50 on it

unless you managed to really set him off (ex; make him jealous on purpose, tease him, be a brat, etc.), then don't expect very many kind words

he can be so mean and unfair when he wants to, but by the end of it he’s worshiping you like you're a deity

he’ll call you a slut but his slut, yk?

could not care less about who hears — no one's gonna confront him about it anyway with his reputation, and they're definitely not coming up to you either since they know ron is going to be death glaring them the whole time

he groans and grunts huskily + openly and encourages you to not cover up/muffle your sounds with your hand

(quickies are, of course, the exception since that would be unsafe, and if higher-ups are around, obviously he's about to care; in any other situation though, no one is safe from hearing the two of you)

lewis nixon

somehow his moans are louder than yours???

LIKE that's not a bad thing, it just means he's enjoying it just as much as you but he's just so vocal about it, saying your name or princess, doll, sweetheart like his life depended on it

(he's such a whore for you, especially when he goes down on you. you're gonna be feeling the vibrations of his groans bc omg is he obsessed with eating you out…but that's another story)

this is mostly because he also does not care who hears (same exceptions as ron). i imagine dick having to come talk to you all flustered, his face matching his hair and his eyes cast to the ground, asking you guys to keep it down

…nixon definitely didn't get any play for two weeks after that

despite being the #1 slut for you, he still manages to tease you, saying things like, “tell me how bad you want it.” (as if he doesn't want it just as bad)

joseph liebgott

he's probably the biggest pottymouth out of the five

anything he does is followed up by a hoarse “fuck, doll” or “shit, (y/n)”

he's trying to cover up the fact that he's a bit of a whiner/panter

he’ll kiss marks onto and around your breasts to muffle the sound of his moans

definitely says “yeah, you like that?” or “that feel good, baby?” during foreplay, smirking down at you while you’re begging for more (he's a little cocky with it)

becomes soft during and afterwards; he's scared to be vulnerable but he can't help telling you how pretty you look, how good you feel, and how much he loves you

will probably confess some of these things in german so he's not as vulnerable, but you still get the gist either way (and if you do understand german, he's screwed)

george luz

honestly he's just kind of unserious, like this man is giggling he's so happy to be with you (and his laughter and smile are infectious so now you're laughing too and telling him to shut up)

he’ll praise you with jokes, telling you you're prettier than any pinup model

“rita doesn't have anything on you, beautiful.” cue you rolling your eyes with a smile and telling him he’s cheesy

he's a little bit of a cusser too (especially when you play with his hair), not to the level of lieb though

“damn, (y/n), i'm lucky you're all mine.”

eventually the jokes and goofiness dissolve into him straight up telling you how good you feel around him and that you're especially gorgeous like this

+ him confessing his love for you when he's still catching his breath

“(y/n), have i ever told you how much i love you?”

“maybe 100 times today, george”

“oh so not enough then” you kiss him before he can remind you again

shifty powers

loves to praise you (and be praised honestly)

like he swears up and down that you're the most perfect girl alive

he can't believe that you're his and he's yours

kind of shy about his moans but he can't stop himself/hide them well enough because he moans at the slightest touch (he's so in love with you)

whimpers when you say he's making you feel good and “don't stop”

he's definitely asking if you're sure about anything and everything, reminding you that you don't have to go through with this if you don't absolutely want to

you just have to be like “darrell c. powers, please just take me” and lord will he oblige you with the brightest goddamn smile on his face

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101, @samwinchesterslostshoe

#ron speirs x reader #lewis nixon x reader #joe liebgott x reader #george luz x reader #shifty powers x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #hbo war #easy company #101st airborne #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fanfic #band of brothers imagines #ron speirs #ronald speirs #ronald speirs x reader #lewis nixon #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott x reader #joseph liebgott #george luz #shifty powers

[marleyybluu]

Dreams

Spooky x black!reader

Summary: Your moms dreams… kinda come true.

No warnings. Pure fluff.

Yes Spooky as a dad again bcus it’s hot. And he’s hot. And I’m feral.

Yoooo I had the funniest idea. Idk why but imagine:

Gif intimidating for no reason he was just sexy asf here

You and Spooky have been together for a couple years, he’s a sweetheart despite the energy he gives out in the streets.

You’re his entire world and he’s done everything to impress you and even impress your mom.

Considering it’d just been you and your mother since day 1 it meant a lot that they liked each other.

More so loved each other because she treated him like her own child.

And though you and her were very close and told each other almost everything you obviously couldn’t tell her the… specific activities that you and Oscar often participate in.

Though she wasn’t an air head. She assumed it anyway.

So one day you enter your home surprised to see her home from work but also glad because you could spend the rest of the day with her. You sit on the couch and nudge her with a smile.

“What’s going on old lady?” She rolled her eyes at that name. Often saying you two could pass as sisters. “Nothing, got home early. Figured I’d rest before I cook.”

You nodded and joined her in her Real Housewives of Atlanta marathon, the both of you sucked into the show quickly until a commercial came on, your mother muted the tv and turned to you.

You were puzzled and looked to the side and back at her in confusion.

“I had a dream last night.”

Only God in Heaven knew what it was with black mothers and their dreams, specifically mothers from the Caribbean. You remembered the days when she’d tell you about a dream she had just before you’d leave for a party.

You’d get all freaked out but everything would be fine when you arrived.

You sighed entertaining this one. “About what mom?”

“Fish.”

Your eyes widened. As the story goes, when they dream about anything involving fish. Someone’s pregnant. But it couldn’t be you. You had no symptoms, your period was always irregular so missing it never scared you.

You started to sweat as she continued. “Yeah, I was back home, with you and your grandfather on his boat. The one named after you remember?”

“Mhm.”

“And we caught sooo many fish, of all kinds, it almost took down the boat.” You didn’t want to ask but you had to. “So… what are you telling me?”

She shrugged. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“It must be you that’s ready fi have a baby.” You nervously laughed. Right on cue a car door slammed in the driveway and through the window you could see Spooky come out of the car. You bolted to the door opening it before he could knock.

“Hola papito.”

“Hola princesa,” He smiled kissing your head. “Hola mami.” He nodded greeting your mom. “Hey Oscar. Good to see you. Make sure you bring my babies back in one piece.” Emphasis on the plural.

You rolled your eyes pushing him out the door. You two left and rode around Freeridge grabbing food and sliding over to the trap house. One your trip you had stopped by a store and went in by yourself making up and excuse that you needed something for your mom but really… you went to get a test.

That damn dream was freaking you the fuck out.

Your leg bounced as you sat on toilet lid waiting for the timer to go off. Spooky could be heard outside on the porch laughing with his friends.

A beeping went off and you picked up the test not even looking at it, you didn’t want to. But you had to. You popped one eye open and looked down.

Pregnant.

Fuck sake that old lady was right.

A knock on the bathroom door startled you. “Baby, you good?”

You stood up and unlocked the door letting him inside while you held the test behind your back. “You okay?”

“My mom had a dream last night.”

He chuckled. “Okay?”

“The dream made her think that I’m pregnant.”

“…Yeah?”

The longer you two looked at each other the more it began to click for him. “You’re joking?” You placed the test back on the counter. “Apparently not. I used to think that woman was a psychic you know.”

Spooky smiled from ear to ear. “You’re having my baby?”

“I am having your baby.” You laughed. He scooped you up in his arms and showered you in pure love. He was over the moon. So happy to have a little family and you just knew he’d be a great father.

You decided to call your mom, and when she picked up you could already feel her “I told you so” coming. You grumbled. “So… apparently I do have something to tell you.”

She smiled on the other line. “Mhm, what’d I say?”

“Whatever grandma.”

I liked this better than what I posted last night so... I deleted pottery.

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic. comment and reblogs help and are appreciated

peace and love

Tags: @skyesthebomb

#oscar diaz #black!reader #spooky #spooky x reader #spooky x black!reader #oscar diaz x black!reader #oscar diaz x reader #spooky fanfic #spooky fanfiction #on my block fanfic #on my block #on my block fanfiction #marleywrites #marleysfanfictions

[cemeteryspider]

A Helluva Rescue

Fizzarolli x Succubus! Kingpin! Reader x Asmodeus

Summary: Inspired by season 2 episode 6, "Oops". Luckily Ozzie puts his best man/woman on the job to get Fizzie home safe

Trigger Warnings: Violence, guns, abduction, sexual themes, strong language, and general dark themes

Word Count: 1860

Being a famous Hellborn gave you some perks that so many did not have the gull to dream about. It gave you access to powerful people, and you climbed your way to the top of the Hellborn food chain. This is how you met the Sin of Lust, Asmodeus. You often provided protection for his dancers and other employees when they left the Lust Ring. Or when you personally delivered goods from other rings to the sin.

After a few years of this you met Fizzarolli, who's spunky attitude you had come to adore. You found yourself at Ozzie's nightclub more than you'd like to admit, and one night you had a red envelope with gold lettering sitting at your usual seat.

I have a different proposal for you tonight, meet me backstage after the show and we'll discuss

~Ozzie

As anyone who wanted the Sin and his imp could imagine, the rest was history.

Despite your relationship with Fizz and Ozzie you spent most of your days in Greed. Dominating the heart of Greed Ring, your empire sprawled amidst towering skyscrapers that gleamed with the opulence of wealth. The air reeked of ambition and desperation, the constant hum of financial dealings echoing through the crowded streets. You reveled in the cutthroat atmosphere and the relentless pursuit of wealth that defined this particular part of Hell. 

Still many days were spent traveling to other rings. You went to the Pride Ring a couple times a year, and looked after some business dealings there. Though you couldn't own a human soul, it didn't mean you did have proxies to deal in them for you.

The Envy Ring granted you access to different sorts of people who were willing to spend money to get things from unsavory means. You want authentic blood sapphires, you got it. You want real human teeth, it'll be x amount. You want to get your nails done by Pride's top sinner without ever stepping foot there, well you were sure it could be arranged.

Your favorite place however, was the Lust Ring. Not for the slobs who insisted that just because you were a succubus you wanted to bang, but for your loving and doting partners.

~~~

Ozzie large hands massaging your back, "Oh darling, these knots are deep, you simply must come visit more often"

Fizz's jokes at the club, "I know you're jealous, the people I bang are 1000 times hotter than you losers"

The pampering, the caring, and god the sex was amazing.

~~~

This time however, Ozzie called you while you were in a meeting with a new client who was in debt to a loan shark. Quickly you had your assistant take over the meeting and you stepped out into the hall.

"What is it Ozzie-bear"

"Hey Doll, Fizzie had some meeting in Greed today and I was wondering if you could maybe send someone to look after him, ya know, without him knowing"

"Why didn't you send people with him, Ozzie?"

"You know how he gets sugar, he gave me the puppy eyes"

With a little smirk and a roll of your eyes, you told him you would get your best and most discreet people on the job.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"No biggie Ozzie, gotta keep our boy safe and sound"

After a quick good-bye, who are you kidding with either of your boys, good-byes were never short. A long string of I love you's and see you laters was given before eventually the new client and your assistant left the meeting room.

~~~

Seated behind your lavish desk, you sifted through an imposing mountain of meticulously organized papers, each document representing a different facet of your empire. When your phone starts to buzz. 

"Boss, something bad just happened, Fizzarolli got into a fight with some imp then they were both grabbed, me and Hen are going up to find him but-" Two shots could be heard from the other end, and two thuds presumably the two hellborn you hired to protect Fizz.

You growled as you crushed the burner phone in your fist.

"Jazz, get my jacket, I gotta teach some bitches a lesson"

~~~

Fizz started thrashing on the floor of the cage they were put in, and Blitz looked as though he was about to explode. Then you waltzed in the door with your tail swinging in circles from your right hand.

"Hey Crimson, Hey Striker, long time no see boys' ' You jumped on a crate and crossed your legs. "I hear you have somethin' of value"

"Hey, Darlin', I sure missed yer face", Striker walked up to you and took your hand in his and placed a long wet kiss to your knuckles.

Internally you groaned, but you were going to get Fizz out of this no matter what. You pressed your lips together and crossed your legs a little tighter, "Mhm, Could say the same about you, Striker".

Striker chuckled a little and got back to business, discussing prices for Fizz like he was a slab of meat.

"I don't know Striker, we have a pretty lucrative contract on the books" Crimson teased.

Your brows scrunched, who could it be, and how did they get the word out so quickly. It took you less than an hour to get from your office to this dump.

"Hmm, I think I could find a quick buyer for the real deal Fizzarolli, I'll pay double what the other guy is paying" With that everyone in the room looked at you. Their eyebrows raised and a sly grin on their face.

"Double and I get to spend the night with ya, that's offers always on the table for you babe," As Striker propositioned, a flicker of irritation crossed your face – a testament to your aversion to these negotiations 

"How about I see the merchandise first?" You tapped his nose with your fingernail and gave him a smirk.

"Anything for you sug" With a quick nod the cage descended from the ceiling and you hands went to the guns on your hips.

Two goons dragged Fizz and another imp from the cage and tossed them at your feet. You almost let your emotions get the better of you when Fizz hit the floor with a groan.

"Can someone untie them? I want to see the merchandise before I buy it, and I haven't got all day" Again another nod from Striker, and the two were untied.

Fizz had his hands over his eyes and was silently crying to himself. Despite you wanting him to look at you, to give him some reassurance, you also hoped he didn't just in case he revealed your relationship with him. Unlike Fizz and Ozzie, your relationship to them was more discrete. The other imp was still shouting, and you saw a gun holster, minus the gun, on his hip as well.

"I'd take the other imp, off your hands as well, he'll make a delicious snack for whoever buys Fizzarolli" Striker walked up to Crimson and started to discuss pricing on Blitz, with the right numbers Striker would give him to you because, as you learned, everything has a price.

You stalked over to Blitz, though the affiliation with guns was the only thing you knew about him, walked around him for a moment, quickly cutting the tape that still bound his hands with your sharp fingernail. Making eye contact with him you pressed a finger to your lips and shoved a gun in his hand without anyone noticing.

A smile spread across Blitz's face as you grabbed Fizz and threw him over your shoulder and started to make a run for it. You shot everyone you saw on the way down the stairs, while Blitz covered everyone behind you.

Once Fizz was safely in the car you continued to cover Blitz until he made it as well. However, before you could get in the car and signal to the driver to get away Striker pressed the hot barrel of his gun to your temple.

"Well sugar, I guess this is checkmate" But just before he could pull the trigger, Asmodeus appeared, snatching the gun from his hands and throwing it across the street.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Ozzie growled in Striker's face. Ozzie grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. You just put a hand on his huge forearm, and he threw Striker to the ground.

With a growl the great Asmodeus shrunk and fit himself into the limousine with the two imps and succubus.

The driver peeled out of the place as soon as the door was closed and you collapsed into the nearest seat. Fizz huddled in a dark corner, his breaths coming in rapid gasps as panic gripped him. Your heart sank at the sight, a mix of worry and determination flooding your thoughts. Despite the familiar smell of wherever he was, he couldn't shake the danger of the gunfight or being held captive so quickly. Blitz stood over him leveling the gun at your forehead.

"Does ANYONE want to tell me what the FUCK just happened"

~~~

The screeching tires signaled your escape, but the tension lingered in the air, still adrenaline was high in all parties involved. 

You explained the situation to Blitz while pulling Fizzarolli in between you and Oz who smiled up at the both of you.

"Ah Fizz you could've just told me you were fucking them", Ozzie, sensing Fizz's discomfort, shot Blitz a stern glance, causing him to back off immediately.

Blitz was waiting for the car to stop where he could get out and call someone who's name was Loona.

Once that happened you, Fizz, and Ozzie snuggled up in the backseat with both Fizz and Ozzie tearing up.

"I'm so sorry that happened Froggie, you will be getting a full escort the next time you even leave the mansion" Ozzie coddled Fizz all the way to bed and you tucked him in and told him that you and Ozzie had to talk business for a minute.

"Thanks for the save back there Ozzie, I would've been done for, if it wasn't for you" The slight burn on your head pulsed, a persistent reminder of the close call, but you dismissed it, not wanting Ozzie to worry unnecessarily.

"Sweetheart, you didn't tell me you were hurt" He grabbed your right shoulder and inspected the bullet wound that must've just grazed you, and the small burn on your temple you tried to hide with your fingers.

"I didn't even notice it Ozzie" Still he sat you down on his desk and bandaged you up.

"There, Doll, all better" You smiled as he kissed the white bandages, and picked you up to take you to bed. "By the way, Doll, you did all the heavy lifting".

You snuggled in a little closer to his chest and breathed out content with the moment.

"Breakfast tomorrow?" You mumbled already falling asleep.

"Always, pancakes with extra whipped cream" He set you between him and Fizz where you usually slept.

Your boys tangled their limbs with your and scooched as close as they could to snuggle up with you.

#helluva boss #helluva blitzo #helluva loona #helluvaboss #helluva boss oc #helluverse #helluva boss x reader #helluvaboss x reader #helluva boss x you #helluva boss x y/n #fizzarolli x reader #fizzaroli helluva boss #fizzarolli x asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #fizzarozzie #fizzarolli

[agent-love-101]

Yandere Johnathon Ohnn Headcanons

an: I am quite bored and I'm very desperate for content of pre-collider spot/Johnathon, so I must deliver!! it may be a bit ooc and have a lot of my own interpretation, but it's a fun concept to imagine what he'd be like as a yandere! I might do regular headcanons and a draft of what I think he was like before the collider incident. also yay! experimenting with a new format!!

in comparison to his post-collider self, Jonathan is a bit more of a tame yandere, but due to one of his only friends being liv, he's still not a normal romantic guy. Sometimes he can think realistically and know that you and him aren't meant to be, but other times he really believes it.

he uses his intelligence to his advantage. He is fairly calculated in his decisions. He knows what he can get away with and exactly how to do it.

He knows he should steal your dull dirty clothes rather than your brightly colored ones because they blend in easier and are more likely to go unnoticed when missing.

he will also occasionally take a gamble and steal your comfort shirts or your pillows. you'll always find a new pillow in it's place.

it comes to a point where he can't sleep without the presence of your scent somewhere. he gets distressed whenever the scent of you fades from the stolen items he has, and he can't swap out the items.

He knows your usual pattern in the day, and what circumstances could possibly change the outcome. I wouldn't be surprised if he had a whole bulletin board hidden in his closet. Maybe even a whole shrine of stuff he has stolen and was able to keep.

he's still very capable of being a sweet and sappy romantic though.

He'll angrily and anxiously chew on his pens thinking about how to kill a man trying to get close to you,

But he will also use his lunch break to go and buy you a gift if he notices you're sad.

He'll comfort you or offer support when you're freaked out over someone trying to break into your home, all while being that person. Either it was an accident for you to come home when he's intruding and he was able to get away, or it was carefully planned out so that he can use that stress to comfort you.

he definitely gives off a nervous kind of demeanor when you engage with him— hands trembling, excessive sweating, stuttering, and such a goofy grin plastered on his face.

you might think he's nervous— and that could be part of the reason he's acting that way— truth be told he's excited. overjoyed that you're talking to him.

he'd hang out with you every second of the day if he could.

as for how he'd get rid of someone that he thinks will damage the relationship (either non-existent or genuine) can vary.

the thought of murder crosses his mind many times a day.

whenever you exchange greetings with a coworker, laugh at someone's jokes— he always thinks something bad is happening.

but it takes a lot for him to actually act upon it.

if it's a coworker of his he has many opportunities to stage work accidents. and sometimes the opportunity is so great it would be foolish not to act upon it. so he does.

nsfw continued below!

He also knows that towels go in the wash at the end of the day, but they have enough of your scent on them to help him "get off".

I think used towels are one of his favorite things of yours to steal and smell. They're clean but they also have your scent clinging onto them...and the implication that your nude body was all over it. huffing the scent as he fondles himself—the humidity coats his throat, it's almost like he can taste you.

and those pillows of yours? there's a multitude of reasons as to why he doesn't return them— the main one being what he does with it.

the cuddling isn't an issue. but sometimes he just cant help himself and he grinds against the pillow— sometimes clothed, sometimes nude. and it just wouldn't be right to return it afterwards!

if you're coworkers, sometimes after a conversation, even just an email reply, he has to excuse himself for a quick break in the bathroom to regulate him— and by that I mean stroking himself.

#tw murder #tw stalking #tw yandere #nsft #near the end #johnathon ohnn #johnathan ohnn #spiderverse #yandere johnathon ohnn #yandere x reader #yandere #johnathon ohnn x reader #johnathan ohnn x reader #the spot #atsv the spot #atsv #the spot x reader

[desidarling123]

Summary: Toph and Sokka become unexpected partners for a top-secret undercover mission. Their cover is that of a newlywed couple -- but as the mission drags on, the line between fact and fantasy start to blur for these longtime friends...

A/N: The premise just tickled me, so I wrote a small scene from the larger story I imagine. Could I write the full thing out? Yes, probably. Will I actually, given how busy I am recently? Not sure.

READ NOW ON AO3 or below the cut :)

They've been at this shitty little hole-in-the-wall bar for what feels like hours, now, hashing out all the details they need for their joint cover story: where this couple met, how they got together. Their dreams, their ambitions, and their plans: past, present, and future.

They keep the details similar enough to their own to remember, but with just enough changed that they won’t reveal their true identities on accident.

And it's just as they're close to winding up that Sokka finally works up the nerve to spring it on her.

“We should kiss,” he says, trying for casual and unaffected, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Toph smiles and finishes off the last of her drink, like he's just told her a joke. 

“Heh. Good one, Sokka.”

“No, I'm being serious,” he insists, and although he knows she can't see him, he fixes her with a serious stare, anyways, as if he can somehow convey the gravity of the matter to her that way. 

She must sense the genuine shift in his tone, because she looks flustered, then. Well, as flustered as he’s ever seen her, and she’s hard to rattle to begin with.

“Why ?” she says, voice pitched low.

“Well,” he explains, “I don't want to look surprised the first time it happens in public.”

“Who’s to say it ever will?” she counters, and there’s an unusual hardness in her voice, one he’s never heard from her before.

“Really, Toph?” he says. “You know far better than I do how unpredictable these things get.”

She sits back in her seat from across him, slumping ever-so-slightly as she mulls it over. In the low, warm light, which glints against her metal armor, he’s struck by how authoritative she looks, despite it.

“Fine,” she says at last. “But it should be you kissing me, not the other way around.”

Now it’s his turn to be confused.

“Why ?”

“Because,” she says tightly, “my assumed cover is a blind woman who doesn’t have seismic sense. If I initiate a kiss, it could tip someone off. I don’t have the benefit of a low profile, these days.”

“Besides,” she finishes, “I don’t want to have to pretend to feel for your face before I kiss you. That would look objectively ridiculous.”

Sokka finds he can’t argue with that. Though he’d kind of been hoping she’d be the one to take the lead, here.

But it’s fine. It’s not weird. It won’t be weird.

“Go ahead,” Toph says, and despite the brusque tone, he knows this is the best he could expect.

So he goes for it. Sokka stands up and leans over the table. Lets one feather-light hand push the dark hair out of her face before he puts his hand on her cheek and guides her mouth to his.

It’s somehow both unnatural and yet also the most natural thing in the world, to kiss his best friend of over a decade. 

She doesn’t kiss him back, per se, but that’s not really a surprise. He pushes past that and kisses her the way her ‘husband’ would: gently but firmly, a hint of familiarity beneath it all. Takes note of the little things, in the moment: the way her lips are slightly chapped against his, the fact that she tastes faintly of the lychee beer she’d just finished off.

He pulls away a beat later.

The moment is over just as it started -- abruptly. He sits back down in his chair.

She nods once, leans back again. He notices, absently, that her arms are still crossed on the table. 

“Okay, got it,” is all she says. He’s passed this little test of hers.

Sokka exhales, then. Takes a swig of his own bottle, briefly abandoned on the table’s far corner.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “do you think you can pretend to like that?”

Her tongue darts out, tracing out her lower lip briefly, and if he watches her a beat too long, well, she’s none the wiser.

“Yeah,” she says simply. “I think I can.”

#tokka #toph #toph beifong #sokka #atla #lok #my writing

[fooled-around-and-fell]

I was thinking about Pedro open monologue and his porny voice. What if Frankie accidentally called a phone sex line and talks to someone and keeps calling just to talk to her. And it ends up being someone we kinda knows . Like i was like someone write this!!!!

a/n: Love this idea! Hope you like this, love 💖 and I am SO SORRY it took me forever

Pairing: Frankie Morales x female reader

MINORS DNI

Masterlist

-----

Frankie was nervous.

He had never done anything like this before, but there was an urge, a want, a need.

He gulped as the line connected. He didn't know what to expect from the other end of the line, it could even be a prank, but the tightness in his pants defied any morality he had left.

He didn't know what to expect, but he was definitely not expecting an angelic voice that lured him in.

"Hey, how are you?"

Throat dry, hands sweaty, he's sure his grip on his phone was so tight he might break it. "Uh.." was the only thing he could muster.

"I understand this is your first time calling me.. I'm glad you chose me." He heard a light chuckle, "are you nervous?"

"Yeah, just.. just a little bit." Frankie looked around to check if anybody was near even though he's alone in his own house.

"That's okay," Your voice was smooth and calming. It made Frankie's heartbeat race. "Why don't you lay down for me, love?"

Frankie did as he was told. "Okay."

"There we go, more relaxed?" You asked. "Now, how about let's get to know each other first?"

Frankie blinked in confusion. "Um.. I like beer."

"That's nice, I'm a whiskey girl myself," You chuckled, "Anything you like to do in the bedroom? Or be done to you?"

At this point Frankie could hear his own heartbeat. It was loud, so loud that he couldn't speak.

"How about I start, hm?" You said. "I like a dominant man who'd do things to me."

It piqued Frankie's interest. "What.. what things?"

You smiled at the other end of the line. "Mm..punish me if I did something bad, play with me as he pleases... tell me if I'm being a good or a bad girl.. and.. well, I think you can imagine the rest."

"Fuck." Frankie cursed, his other hand palming his pants.

"Tell me more."

-----

Frankie kept calling you after that. Just once every few days. He was captivated with your voice, what you could do with just your voice... it was like you were there with him.

You never told him your name -- not like he told you his. But he found himself wanting to call you more than just babygirl these days.

You couldn't help but think of this mystery guy, sometimes. You've asked for his name several times but he never told you. You've resorted to calling him sir, daddy, or love.

There was something about his voice that sounded familiar, like you've heard it before, and you liked it. He was shy at first, but then he really opened up to you and told you the things he liked, things he wanted to do, the things he could do to you if you two met in real life.

"Fuck, baby, what I'd give to have you right here with me. Right now."

"I want you, too." You weren't lying. "I want you so bad."

"Are you touching yourself?"

A pause, cause you knew you shouldn't. You're the one working. "..Yes."

"Bad girl." Frankie chuckled, "You know you're not supposed to."

"Can't help it. You're just.... fuck. There's something about you." You pulled your shorts up.

"I feel the same way." He sighed, "Well, if you see a guy with a hat, a shirt -- mostly greasy shirt, and a mustache everyone is clearly jealous of.. that's me."

You chuckled. "Must be quite the mustache you have."

"One of the many great features I have." Frankie joked.

You described yourself to him, truthfully. You weren't sure why, but he made you want to be honest with him, made you want to show him who you really are.

"All I hear is beautiful."

Your legs were kicking under your table, a smile was on your face, and you realized you might be crushing on this man whom you've never met before.

You didn't even know what he looked like! How could hearing his voice make you this excited?

"Serious question though," Frankie cleared his throat, "How'd you start working here?"

You blinked a few times, "Are you trying to get to know me?"

Frankie let out a nervous laugh. "Sort of.. haha, is that so bad?"

"Mm. I don't know. I don't even know your name."

"What, calling me sir or daddy isn't satisfying you enough?"

You laughed, "You know that's not what I mean."

He smiled cheekily, "Well then say it. Call me daddy."

-- it wasn't like any other session. Usually with your other clients, you'd roleplay into this character you knew they liked, try to help them build their ideal scenario until they finished and you get your pay.

But with this man... it felt more natural. It felt like you're two people in a long distance relationship, talking at the end of your days, catching up, and just longing for each other.

It felt good, but you wonder why he was doing this. And if he, like you, wanted more.

-----

You were out at a party, one of your friends was hosting a BBQ night at his backyard, and you were more than happy to join in. Spending the entire day studying for school and then with your side job as a phone sex operator.. wasn't easy.

"Hey!" Santiago hugged you, "Sorry, I was busy helping Ben with the grill. Anyway, come on, you haven't met the guys in a while."

You and Santiago are friends because of your brother, who used to be his childhood friend. When your brother died in the field, Santiago treated you as his own little sister, taking care of you and making sure you're okay every time he's not busy.

Santiago knew about your side job, and he doesn't mind. You know it can be quite taboo, but it also pays your bills and you live very comfortably off of it.

"Guys, you remember Y/N." Santiago brought you over. "She's like my little sister, so don't mess with her."

"Relax, gramps." You chuckled, "You're only 3 years older than I am."

"Oh, they grow up so fast." He faked a tear.

"So, how's the studying going, kid?" Tom went along with the joke.

"Pretty good, actually." You chuckled, "If everything goes well, I should be able to be a nurse soon."

"That's great!" Tom said, "You can finally let being a phone operator go."

You laughed, "yeah, maybe. It does pay really well."

"It's a tough job, I don't know how you do it." Ben said. "How do you deal with a bunch of horny men desperate for... for release??"

You shrugged, "I got used to it, just gotta get to know them and have fun."

You were having a good time talking to the guys, having great food, reconnecting with people and just.. socializing. It's been a while since you did that, but you can't help but feel there's a pair of eyes staring at you.

And that pair of eyes managed to catch you off guard, alone in the kitchen while you were grabbing something to drink.

"I was wondering when you'd talk to me."

That was a complete lie. You had no idea who it was until you turned around -- Frankie.

He put his hands in his pockets. "Didn't want to bother you while you were havin' a good time is all."

You smiled. "How have you been, Frankie?"

"Good, mostly. And then I found out you're the one I've been calling."

You almost choked on your drink.

That's why he sounded so familiar, of course.

"Oh shit." You cursed. "I.. I didn't think this could happen."

"Me neither." Frankie crossed his arms.

"So what now?" You asked.

He shrugged, his expressions somewhat lead you to believe he's a little disappointed. "I stop calling you, and.. we pretend this ever happened. And.. I'm sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable during our.. yeah."

"That's it?" Now you're a little disappointed.

"Is that...not what you want?" Frankie asked.

You put your glass down. "I don't know, I was hoping to meet you in person. Get to know you.."

"Knowing what I like in bed isn't enough for you, sweetheart?" He joked.

"That's not what I meant!" You laughed, "I didn't know who you were or what you looked like, but I liked you anyway. And now that I know who you are... I kinda like you more."

Frankie stepped closer and trapped you between his arms. "I'm actually glad it's you -- panicked for a little bit, but now I'm glad."

Laughing, you and Frankie stared at each other. It was definitely him.

"That is a very good mustache you have."

"Mm." He hummed. "Mind if I kiss you?"

"Are they looking?"

Frankie glanced outside. "Yes. Do you care?"

"No."

"Good."

#frankie morales #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal fluff #frankie morales fluff #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal x reader #romance #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #fluff #angst #request fic #pedro pascal narcos #javier pena #frankie #pedro #pascal #narcos #game of thrones #pedro x reader

[moonpetrichors-blog]

lo'ak x f!reader in lo'aks pov pls

childhood best friends to lovers :DD

childhood best friends to lovers, lo'ak has always been head over heals in love with y/n ever since they were 12, and he confesses before they go into battle in case he wouldn't be able to afterwards, she retaliates the feelings and they both make it out alive, also they tell jake and neytiri and they were like "yeah that was obvious" or something :)))

love your other works so much

Stick By You

Tags: Lo’ak x Omaticaya!Reader, Fem!Reader, Headcanons, Childhood Best Friends To Lovers, Friends To Lovers, Lo’ak’s Perspective (But Not First Person), Sweet Ending

Warnings: Major Avatar 2 Spoiler Because I Had To Make a Little Jokey Joke

Lo’ak has been your childhood friend ever since you two were 12. You left the Omaticaya clan to follow him to the Awa'atlu village, and right before you both have to go into battle, he confesses. Little does Lo’ak know, you’ve been in love with him for the last couple of years too.

The way my blog has turned into an avatar page 💀💀 I can just imagine Jake and Neytiri standing there like those apple emojis like “we know” LMAO 😭 (let’s just remove all angst from the actual series of events) 🚶‍♀️ thank u for the support btw <33 yall are so lovely :)

Jonquil - Love Me, Affection Returned, Desire, Sympathy, Desire for Affection Returned

* ˚ ✦ Read below the cut  

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [01/01/23] ❞  

Lo’ak had been in love with you ever since you two were twelve.

You had met in the Omaticaya clan, and were always attached to the hip.

Neteyam always told Lo’ak he was surprised you weren’t dead yet, considering the way you two were inseparable.

Lo’ak ignored him, secretly not caring, because eventually he realized he liked you.

At first he thought he’d get over his feelings for you, because he didn’t think you could ever like him back, but they only grew the more time passed.

So, he kept his feelings to himself, because he didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

Fast-forward to two years later, shit had hit the fan.

The RDA was back, and they were after his father. His family had ultimately decided to leave.

You had followed them to the Metkayina clan, despite Lo’ak’s protests against it.

You were just like him, not minding how stupid you could be throwing yourself into danger. But, part of him was glad you would go so far as leave the clan just to stay by his side.

Your time together with the Metkayina was quite fun. The swims, meeting Payakan, and even beating up the chief’s son!

All good things must come to an end, though.

Quaritch was tailing his family, and right before the Metkayina went into battle, Lo’ak pulled you aside with a somber expression.

He noticed the way you seemed perplexed, and took your hands in his. He really couldn’t figure out what you were thinking, but he thought that in case he wouldn’t be able to make it out alive, you at least needed to know this.

His feelings for you.

Lo’ak confessed, and dropped his hands from yours, fully expecting you to reject him.

Before he could turn away to join his siblings, you stopped him.

Lo’ak’s eyes widened when you gave him a small smile and told him you reciprocated his feelings.

He was bewildered that he hadn’t realized you’d also been pining for him the last few years.

He of course pulled you into his arms and kissed you passionately, and promised that he would stay alive. For you.

There were many instances where he thought he was going to die, actually.

He almost got shot, almost drowned, and even got caught by Quaritch.

This boy really knows how to make you sweat 💀

However, the one thing that drove him to stay alive was the fact that you liked him back. That you were waiting for him.

And so he kept his promise.

When you all had reassembled, you gave Lo’ak a tight hug, telling him that you were glad he was alive.

You kissed him again, this time without the desperation and fear of death looming over your heads.

Lo’ak took your hand in his and led you to his parents, trying to swallow back his nerves.

Neytiri and Jake appeared a little standoffish, seeing how serious their son’s expression was. Did that bastard Quaritch rise back from the trenches of the ocean?

“Mom, Dad, I want Y/N to be my mate.”

You blushed at how direct he was being, but you supposed there was no other way to do it.

The both of them looked at each other, then to the both of you.

They burst out laughing.

Lo’ak felt kind of offended, because what was so funny??

Well, apparently Jake and Neytiri had known you two liked each other a loooong time ago.

They thought this was something serious, like their son dying!

This was absolutely not the reaction the two of you were expecting.

Jake pat Lo’ak’s shoulder, struggling to speak through his fit of laughter.

“Son, you really need to get your wits about you.”

#↳˳💿;; ❝ inbox ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: #↳˳☁️;; ❝ headcanons ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: #avatar headcanons #headcanons #avatar 2 headcanons #lo'ak #lo'ak sully x reader #lo'ak sully #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #childhood best friend #childhood best friends #childhood best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #omaticaya #omaticaya clan #omaticaya reader #female reader

[mcgrillzdumpinc]

so I'm writing a multi chap JinMao fic right now and I want to share this preview~

She holds up a berry for Jinshi, who stares at her for a few seconds too long. Just as Maomao realizes that she has offered to feed him, his teeth delicately take the red fruit, soon followed by soft lips that close around Maomao’s fingertips. Maomao is frozen, all her attention drawn to the glistening bits of saliva on her, while Jinshi just opens his mouth in anticipation for more.

“I’m not feeding you,” she protests.

“You are,” Jinshi quickly rebuffs. She swears, he only remembers his position when he can use it to make her do annoying things. He parts his jaws again, waiting.

Maomao complies by shoving a fistful of berries into his mouth.

Jinshi chokes. “What was that for?” Despite the mess, he laughs and begins picking up the berries that fell on him.

Maomao gets up on the bed and returns to where she was laying, back to Jinshi’s working left side. She offers the bowl and he happily keeps eating with his left hand.

She realizes then that this is the first time she’s spoken with Jinshi in awhile. They didn’t speak at the feast. Before then, they hadn’t seen each other for over a week. A pang of something like loneliness afflicts her chest.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, her voice much quieter than intended.

“The pain is receding,” Jinshi reports. He takes a goji berry and holds it up to Maomao’s mouth. “And you?”

She takes the berry with her teeth alone. “You don’t need to worry after me. You’re the patient.”

“Right…” The reminder seems to deflate Jinshi. He settles against the mountain of pillows. Even laid up as he is, he is lovely to look at. “All that really happened.” Jinshi grimaces. Maomao can’t begin to imagine what he had to endure, how much pain he was flooded with, what terrors will surely haunt him from now on. “I must have put you through a lot. I’m sorry.” It seems, though, that his mind remains preoccupied with her, even now.

“I told you not to worry after me.” Maomao takes a few berries for herself. She hears him chuckle softly.

Together, they finish the bowl. For once, Maomao wants to talk more, yet nothing comes to her mind. Jinshi, meanwhile, appears more tired with each bite. By the time there’s only a handful of dried berries left, he’s nearly asleep again. Maomao takes the last bites and goes to leave the bowl with the other fruits. She blows out the candles and considers her next step.

She should sleep on the chair or the floor, now. But she doubts she would have heard him earlier, had she been so far away. No, beside him is best. Maomao slips under the blanket, nice and warm beneath its protective cover.

“Staying?” Jinshi mumbles.

“I’m staying,” Maomao whispers.

“Forever?” he asks like it’s a joke.

“Until you’re better,” she answers cooly.

#this story is so far from finished but #clenches fist #i need that sweet sweet validation #the apothecary diaries #kusuriya no hitorigoto #jinmao #jinshi #maomao #i'll be honest i'm mainly sharing this b/c chapter 3 is kicking my ass

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt16

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

This chapter goes through the "taking down Cazador" bit of the game, with dialogue directly transcribed from the game (though altered in some places for the story's sake), so uh spoilers

Warnings: blood, references to torture/trauma/past abuse, Cazador, swearing, dissociation, crying, angst

Word Count: 2,279

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You stared up at the signs, a sickening pool of dread and uncertainty filling your stomach. It was a marker, pointing out the directions of towns for travelers to know where they were headed. The names on the worn wood stared back at you. Waiting.

Astarion stepped up and carefully took your hand in his. “We can go to Berdusk first,” he offers. He glances up at the sign.

Baldur’s Gate →

Berdusk ↑

You squeeze his hand. You wish you could. You wish you could just drop everything - the tadpoles and the Absolute and the Dead Three and their chosen and everything else that hangs over you as surely as the Sun. Go to Berdusk, take down Kir Parthene, be free.

But you can’t.

“We can’t put off Baldur’s Gate forever,” you murmur. You don’t meet his eye as you continue down the right path, reluctantly slipping your hand from his.

He watches your retreating form. He sees the way you glance down the other road, how your head hangs slightly as you clear your head of the fantasy of removing the shackles of slavery.

Soon, he thinks. Soon, we will both be free.

-

Your heart aches as you come face to face with so many spawn. They’re all disheveled, weak, starving. Their eyes stare at you, but they do not see you. They only take such keen interest because of the blood pulsing just beneath your skin.

One of the spawn, long white hair dirtied from who-knows-how-long being trapped here, stares at Astarion. “You,” he barely whispers. His voice shakes. “I know you. You’re the one from the tavern. You smiled and joked and got me drunk.”

Astarion steps forward, eyes wide with recognition. “You- No. You’re dead.”

The spawn keeps going. With each word, his eyes, glowing red, gleam with sorrow. “You called me so many sweet things. My name sounded like a lyric on your tongue.”

“Sebastian…” He says the name so gently.

Sebastian seems to perk up ever so slightly. “You remember me.”

Astarion nods slightly. A deep sadness rests heavy on his features, weighing down his shoulders. He looks at Sebastian like he’s mourning a life long ago. “You were handsome. Shy.” He can’t meet Sebastian’s eyes as he says, “You’d never been kissed.”

The spawn nodded. “You taught me how.” His face sours, creasing with rage. “And then you destroyed me.”

Sebastian screams as he lunges to grab Astarion, but the rogue is too quick on his feet. He steps back, just avoiding the hand that claws at the air. Sebastian tries for a moment longer before he gives up, drawing his hand back in and leaning heavily against the cell door as he falls to his knees.

You step forward, standing beside Astarion. You carefully take his hand. He holds onto it like a lifeline, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes. “They all have scars,” you point out quietly. You look between every single one. Sure enough, somewhere on their flesh was the same scar Astarion had on his back.

“So Cazador marked them too - bound us all to his ritual.” He gasps, eyes flickering from one person to the next. “Gods, I know so many of these faces. They’re my… conquests. I pursued them, seduced them, then brought them to Cazador. He told us he was feeding on them… But he turned them to spawn. He turned every last one so he’d have souls for his cursed ritual!”

“How long?”

You both look back at Sebastian, unclear if that’s even who spoke. “What?”

Sebastian is slow to stand. He’s so weak - you can’t begin to imagine how hungry and lost he must feel.

“How long have I been down here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and glance at Astarion. He takes a breath, but he answers. “One hundred and seventy years. You… were one of my first.”

“My family,” Sebastian gasps. “My friends… They’re gone… You took them from me. You took everything from me!”

“We’ll set you free,” you interject quickly. You can feel how tense Astarion is.

Sebastian scoffs immediately, shaking his head. “Free? We’ll never be free while that monster lives.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Astarion tells him, “to destroy Cazador.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t. It’s not possible…”

“We’ll find a way.” You step forward. Astarion’s hold on your hand tightens, prepared to pull you back if Sebastian decides to lash out again. But you don’t recoil from the glowing irises that stare at you, full of distrust and uncertainty. “I promise.”

“Even if you can kill him - what then? What happens to us?”

You tilt your head at the spawn. “What do you want to happen?”

He droops into himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I- I just don’t want to die down here. Please… Whatever you do, just do it quickly. I can’t go on waiting…”

You nod, silently assuring him of the promise you made. You wish desperately to reach out to him through the bars. You wish you could comfort him somehow; give him complete certainty that you will free him - all of them. But to do so would be to stick your arm in a lion’s den.

Astarion gently tugs on your hand and you slowly step away. He guides you away from the cells, but your eyes refuse to tear away from Sebastian until he blocks your line of sight. He sighs quietly, shakily, equal parts relieved and distraught.

“Everyone who ever trusted me enough to let down their guard… I should have known what Cazador was capable of. Ugh, he’s played us all for such fools. Not just seven spawn to placate the devil. Seven spawn, and seven thousand souls to bound to them in blood!” He huffs, glancing briefly over his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual.”

You jump back, gawking at him. He… He couldn’t really be thinking about ascending… could he?

He frowns at you. “What?”

“You can save them.”

He scoffs. “What’s the point? They’re as good as dead. I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed they will cause incredible carnage. They will be ravenous. They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. Your mind races. He talks about the spawn almost like your master does. It’s not seven thousand lives being sacrificed - they’re just things to be toyed with and thrown away. He knows them; knows their faces, some of their names! And still, his mind is set on destroying them all.

“This isn’t you, Astarion,” you barely whisper, trying to convince yourself even when you know it’s not. The lines are becoming too blurred. “Not really.”

“It should be. I don’t want to be like them…” He scowls, glaring at the souls locked away. “They’re pathetic, horrible…”

You shake your head. Any words you wish you could say get stuck in your throat.

But when you don’t say anything, his face softens with worry. “Don’t hate me,” he begs. “I just did what I had to. I swear, I did what I had to…”

“But you can do more now…”

He opens his mouth, prepared to defend himself, but you don’t want to hear what he could say. It hurts too much. You just shake your head and walk around him. If you can just kill Cazador… maybe then… maybe…

-

“Get over here. We can do this.”

You felt sick. The man before you looked like a poor copy of Astarion. His eyes were crazed and angry, face sharp and all the look of a predator. When you didn’t move, didn’t answer, a desperate growl rose from the back of his throat. “I’m doing this for you, too! We can be all-powerful, together. No one could ever tell us what to do, ever again.”

Seven thousand innocent souls. Your heart weeped for every single one of them. Their sorrow became yours. Their loss became yours. In a split second, you saw them all lining up to take their place against the wall, wading through a river of blood, each taking their turn to be whipped while you stood by helplessly to watch.

How could sacrificing seven thousand people ever be the right answer? Especially if it meant ascending.

You shook your head. “I don’t need you to do this for me - I don’t want you to. We can protect ourselves! We can be better!”

“We are pathetic!” he screamed. It struck like an arrow through your entire being. Even as you stared up at him with wide eyes, he rampaged on. “We are weak. We can’t change - we can’t hope to hold our own against bastards like him,” he points at Cazador with the ornate dagger, “or Kir Parthene, without this! I promised to defend you from her - this is how we do it!”

Your lungs constricted. You couldn’t breathe. You saw their eyes looking at you - the eyes of the victims lured by Cazador’s spawn, the eyes of the spawn you were forced to watch get tortured for your mistakes, the eyes of Astarion when he’d cradle your face tenderly in his hands and promise everything would be okay. Allowing him to ascend would be to forsake all of that.

You took in a shaky breath, forming the words within your dry throat. “If you want to ascend, you’ll have to carve those damned runes into my own back.”

His face fell in an instant. Eyes, wide and round, stared at you in disbelief. You took the side of the spawn over him? He could become so powerful, and share that power with you, and never again would you have anything to fear. He couldn’t imagine losing all that.

“Astarion, if you ascend, you’ll just become like him.” You gesture to the pathetic man cowering on the floor. “Like… her. You’d lose yourself entirely. You won’t ever stop being afraid.”

His hand tightened around the hilt of the dagger. Of course you could see right through him. You always had, even from the very beginning.

“Please,” you begged softly. “Don’t do this.”

“You…” He sighs. His entire demeanor softens. No longer does he seem desperate for security. He looks at you earnestly. “You’re right. I can be better than him.” His face hardens again as he glares down at Cazador. “But I’m not above enjoying this.”

-

He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Cazador was dead. By his own hand, no less. He’d never have to seduce another unsuspecting fool, never have to suffer the torture inflicted upon him those long 200 years, never be forced to follow the bastard’s ever whim. And the spawn were alive and free, fleeing to the Underdark where they could build a new life for themselves. Sebastian was free. Things were good - great, even!

So why did he feel so awful?

Hours later, sitting in his bed at the inn, he still didn’t feel some grand catharsis. He didn’t feel free. He just felt… numb. He tried reading, but none of the words stuck. He tried embroidering, but he couldn’t seem to thread the needle. He felt so disjointed from his body, so disconnected. The dissociation he experienced during sex was multiplied tenfold, and he couldn’t figure out how to turn it off.

His body jumped when something touched his shoulder, but his eyes could only stare blankly ahead, unfocused. For a brief moment, he was afraid it was Cazador, still alive and back to punish him. But the touch was too tender, too kind.

“What do you need?” you asked him quietly, barely above a whisper. You slowly sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. His hand blindly sought yours out. You held on, anchoring him to you.

He took a long breath in. What did he need? He wasn’t sure anymore. He thought all he needed was to kill Cazador and everything would be fine. He’d be fine. Why couldn’t he just be fucking fine?

The breath turned shaky. Tears burned his eyes, forcing him to blink in a futile attempt to make them go away. A heavy lump formed in his throat, choking him. You slid your hand across his back to his other shoulder, wrapping your arm around him. He turned into you, burying his face into your neck and clinging to your waist with his free hand. All at once, the floodgates opened.

His body shook with the effort of his sobs. Each one tore apart his esophagus; made his chest feel so tight he feared with each strained breath that he’d collapsed a lung. Hot, fat tears rolled freely down his face, dripping onto your skin and shirt. You gently leaned your head on his, tucking him further into your neck, granting him an extra ounce of security.

A particularly rough sob jolted through his system, coming out with a restrained, anguished cry. “Why don’t I feel better?” he babbled wetly. “Why can’t I just fucking feel better?”

You don’t answer. There’s nothing you can say. Two hundred years of torment can’t be healed with one death, not after everything it did to Astarion. Not after every punishment, every victim - everything. You wished for all the world it could be that way for him.

So you simply sit there with him, as he’d done for you. You run your fingers soothingly through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp and tucking stray curls behind his ears. You never let go of his hand, even after he runs out of tears to cry. You just stay.

He’s never felt so safe.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueencosplay @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer @godoffuckedupcats

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #i come with knives #angst

[dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night]

Note: I've decided to tell this in a partial epistolary manner. Some scenes will be told through letters and such. Others through plain old story telling in my usual style. I've never done this before, but the prompt really took ahold of my imagination.

TW: referenced cult, parasites, hunger, fear of death, human whumpee, vampire caretaker

Dear Rahab,

Well, I've finally done it. I'm sure you'll be very relieved that I found a place to stay, given that Rosemonda or one of her loyal servants doesn't find this letter. I hope you burn it as soon as you're done reading. I know you aren't allowed to have a phone, and I still haven't gotten one, so the letters will have to work for right now.

Before you read this next part, I want you to remember that I love you dearly. Horrible start, I know. But I'm your little brother. Do you really expect anything better from me after all these years?

The man who's letting me live with him is a vampire. That's the kicker. I know you must be horrified, but it's a decent enough arrangement. His name is Ishtar. A funny name, isn't it? Belongs to a woman. I asked him about that. He acted all prickly and told me in no uncertain terms to shut my trap.

But that's all besides the point. Ishtar found me stumbling through the woods. Can't you picture it, Rae? Your dear brother, half dead, covered in leeches and ticks from marching through a swamp, chilled to the bone, I could go on. Then this vampire finds me. I start saying my prayers, because G-d knows I haven't lived a good life. I don't know much about the world to come, and too much about the damnation Rosemonda preached. I really thought I was going to die.

Then he starts yapping about how I'm trespassing. "Are you blind? There are clearly keep-out signs." I missed the signs, obviously. He wasn't really angry, just ticked off. Then he saw the sorry state I was in, and carried me back to his house. Yeah, he carried me, a bridal carry to be specific. You would have laughed if you had seen us. We looked like the cover of a trash romance novel, but I was too filthy to be any sort of princess.

His house is quaint. I like that word. Quaint. It sounds nice. Anyhow, no electricity. It's not like a nocturnal vampire needs light bulbs. I've had time to look around since half-way recovering, and he has a lovely garden. Oh Rae, you'll hate this part of my oh so lovely story. But I promise nothing happened. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.

Ishtar stripped me down and tossed my half conscious ass in a bath, without saying much of anything. Wrinkled his nose a lot, and I don't blame him. I can't recall exactly what I was thinking, just that I was too tired to be scared anymore. I do remember him picking off the leeches and ticks though, mostly cause he kept looking at me like he was daring me to crack an offensive joke. I sure as hell didn't.

He got me outta the bath and gave me some water. Surprisingly, he had food. That is to say, he left me in the kitchen and came back two hours later with a basket of plums and a freshly butchered duck. I made quick work of as many plums as I could fit in my mouth without choking while he cooked the duck. I think he used tumeric or something, it tasted weird but I was too starving to care after not eating for two days.

I think I must have fallen asleep. It's all so effing hazy. But I woke up in this grand bed. Nicest thing I've ever slept in. I don't know why exactly a vampire has a bed when they sleep in coffins. Or is it caskets? I don't really know the difference. Anyhow, he was just sitting there staring at me all creepy like.

Vampire eyes aren't exactly red, you know? They're reflective like a cat, all the way down to having those thin pupils. Red, orange, green, they just keep shifting when the candlelight hits at different angles. Not exactly something you want to wake up to staring at you in a darkened room.

He broke the creepy ass silence to ask me why the hell I was on his property. I told him the truth, figuring there was no way in hell a vampire was in cahoots with Rosemonda. She hates them, as you know full well. He was oddly impressed. Muttered something about heroism. I don't feel like a fucking hero. Oh, he liked my name. Kept repeating it under his breath. Real weird fellow.

Anyway, I'm a bit embarrassed to admit I begged him not to turn me away. I may have cried. Just a little. He just looked me over, silent for a few minutes, and offered me a deal. Remember what I said about how much I love you? Good. The deal went like this. He'd let me live with him and he wouldn't breathe a word if our darling cult came to call. In exchange I'd give him a healthy amount of my blood. Once the anemia from the leeches goes away, obviously.

I know, I know. I'm being stupid and reckless. My body is going to end up fertilizing his garden. Mother would be so disappointed in me. I've heard all of that from you before. Well, besides the second to last one. But close enough. I'm fine though. Still not over the anemia, so he hasn't tried to drink me. You know how low my pain tolerance is, so I hope I don't act like a coward next time he gets peckish.

He doesn't talk to me much, you know? Just lets me wander around his house and pick fruit from his garden to eat. I haven't admitted that I know nothing about butchering yet, despite the meat cravings. I don't see how you went vegetarian. I would kill for some bacon.

Sorry, I know I shouldn't be joking so much. But I'm not sure what to say. A lot has happened, but I'm safer than I've been in years. I have food in my stomach and don't have to listen to sermons to get it. If you want me to rescue you at any time, just say the word. I'll whisk you here when you're out proselytizing. I doubt Ishtar will mind. I mean, you're my sister.

I'll cut this letter short. I love you. I miss you. I wish you were here. I hope you're doing enough proselytizing for Rosemonda to give you good meals and a blanket to sleep in. I know I'm repeating myself, but I need to say it one more time. Just in case. I love you.

Sincerely yours, Mordecai

Taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @devourerofcheesecake @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whumpshaped @heavenly-whumper

#Abraham original: Hot off the press #Whump #Human whumpee #Vampire caretaker #Expository whump #Modern whump #Cult whump

[hugmeimtouchdeprived]

Ghost! Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader - Chapter 2

Chapter 2!!! I'm busy with school and assignments and looking for a summer job and starting my final thesis, but I write when I have time and energy to do so😊

Let's ignore the fact that I posted this a few hours ago, but deleted it because I came up with something that I really wanted to change so I'm posting it again now

Content warning: Talk of possible stalking and breaking in (not really what's happening, but it's mentioned?), mention of blood.

Original drabble | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

“Come on, what else could it be?”

“I’m not being haunted, Donna,” you groan, rubbing the bridge of your nose between two fingers. You glance around the small café, fairly empty of other patrons at this time of the day. The two of you sit next to the large windows, watching as people walk and drive by. It’s a weekday, middle of the day, so most people are likely still at school or work.

Donna is an old family friend. Used to be your neighbour when you were a kid and would often babysit you if your parents couldn’t find another babysitter. The two of you grew close until she got married and moved to the states briefly, before returning with her wife. It’s rare the two of you get time to see each other, but it’s always nice when you do.

You swear she hasn’t changed a bit since you were a kid. She’s in her early 50s, you’d guess, and still just as full of energy as she was all those years ago. Her wife is a bit of a mystery to you, but you know she travels a lot for work.

And that Donna loves her more than anything.

“What else could it be?” Donna repeats for the hundredth time. “You’re being followed by something; we both know it,” she insists. Donna has always been fairly enthusiastic, or at least interested in, the afterlife and ghosts and whatnot. You, not so much. Sure, it is intriguing, what happens after death and all the different views on the subject, if ghosts and spirits exist. Intriguing, but not very believable in your mind.

“You know, there was that terrorist attack in that tunnel a few months ago. A lot of people died there, I heard there was a soldier that passed, too,” she continues, her tone more serious now.

Donna always seems to know things. Sure, the attack, its casualties, have been public knowledge, at least some part of it. But Donna always seems to have more information than even the news do. You always joke she must have someone on the inside of all these things. “Something like that,” she’d respond.

You told her about everything as a joke, to try and ease your own nerves. She ended up taking it way more seriously than you would have anticipated. Maybe you should have predicted that, in hindsight, but at least she doesn’t seem to think you’ve lost your mind.

And sure, you promised yourself you wouldn’t talk about it to anyone, that you’d just go on with your merry life and ignore it, assume it’s a figment of your imagination. But you trust Donna, you wouldn’t be surprised if she knows you better than your parents do. Probably better than you do, if you’re being honest. And things really are getting out of hand with your ghostly friend. Roommate, squatter, stalker, whatever. You’re not sure what to call him, but it’s all too real to really keep ignoring it.

He’s in your goddamn home, your sanctuary, your safe space. Where you haven’t yet allowed even some of your friends to visit, you’re not sure if your coworkers even really know where you live. And this- this thing has invaded it, made himself right at home. Begging, yelling at him to leave you alone, to leave your home at once. The train station and the bookstore were manageable, at least. This? No. No way. This is your home, your apartment. It’s yours! You live alone and you quite like that, thank you very much.

You swear you see the shadow shake and shift, as if trying to hold in his laughter. He does seem to give you more space after that, though; instead of standing right next to or behind you, he stands in doorways, corners of rooms. That’s something, you guess.

And that’s the other thing. He’s so human, you often mistake him for an actual person standing in the corner of your room. It’s like having an extra clingy roommate, following you around the apartment. At least you can shower and change your clothes in peace. (That’s what you think. He’s not snooping or being creepy, of course not! He’s just lonely, needs the comfort of being with someone.)

It’s almost freaky how used to it you’ve gotten. It has been, what, a few months? You know by now that he, whoever he is, isn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.

The shadow in the corner of your eye no longer freaks you out nearly as much. You still don’t know who he is, or was, why he’s here and with you of all people, but you accept it. Not that you’d have a choice in the matter, anyway.

You watch movies with him. You see him next to you on your couch, almost feel his weight on the cushions, as if sitting next to a real, living person. Somehow, you can just tell when you’ve picked something he likes. The air around you feels different, more relaxed. He looks like he’s leaning forward in his seat, sitting on the edge of the couch when the movie gets exciting or interesting. You hear him laugh, not even the airy sound it was before, but an almost proper one.

He audibly groans if you pick something he doesn’t like. Might even throw a pillow on the floor or keeps turning the tv off. You’ll either scold him and keep attempting to turn it back on until he gets bored and gives up, or you’ll give up first and put on something he might like more. Problem is, you’re both stubborn beings, and might “argue” over the movie for a long time.

During horror movies you find yourself leaning towards him, looking for that feeling of safety he provides. It always takes you a moment to realize you can’t curl into his side, with his arm around you, like you would if he was physically there.

As more time goes by, you see more of him. He becomes more refined, quite literally. Going from a shadow in the corner of your eye, disappearing the moment you try to look at it, to what you’re sure is a human man. You can’t exactly see the details of his features, his face, but there are some things that are certain.

He's tall. Taller than you, at least. Muscular, too, by the looks of it, and wearing some sort of gear. Military, maybe? Donna did mention hearing of some soldier who died in those tunnels some months ago. Or maybe you’re being haunted by some terrorist who has taken a liking to you. You sincerely hope it’s the first one, though.

And then there’s the very obvious gunshot wound to his temple, oozing blood down the side of his face and neck. It drips down his chin and vanishes before hitting the floor. It’s more visible in darkness, or in the light of the moon and stars. You do your best to ignore it, there’ll be time to ask about it later. Surely not a subject he’d be very open to discuss or reminisce over.

At some point, it starts to feel nice to have some company over, even if it means you get little to no privacy. His presence makes you feel safer, in a way. You’re not sure if he could do much if someone was to break into your apartment or harass you at work or while running errands, or if he even would do anything to help you, but it still feels almost like having a guard dog. A dog that no one else can even see, unless he wants to be seen.

That’s what you think, at least. You see him because he wants you to. There’s not much concrete evidence of how ghosts really work, so you’re mostly going on what you’ve read about the subject and different cultures, and your own gut instinct.

You know your ghost can talk, too. A little bit, at least, not quite full sentences. You’ve heard what you swear was a laugh, a groan, mumbled words. He’s getting stronger, and you’re certain he will answer your questions, eventually. You’ll be patient.

One evening, you ask for his name while getting ready for bed in the bathroom. You see his hulking figure behind you in the mirror, dark shadow almost looking like he’s leaning against the wall. Not that you were expecting any response, but it’s still disappointing to not get one. The bar of soap at your sink gets tossed to the floor. “It was just a question, you know. No need to start throwing stuff around if you don’t want to answer,” you mumble as you pick it up. It’s back on the floor as soon as you turn your back to toss your clothes in the laundry basket.

You wake up feeling cold that night. Glancing at the clock, it’s barely past midnight. You close your eyes, wanting to go back to sleep; having an early morning tomorrow, you want to at least try to get a proper night of sleep.

Something’s wrong, though. It takes you a while to realize what exactly that is. It’s cold, unusually so even under your thick duvet. A weight behind you in bed as you lie on her side. An arm around your waist, weighing you down. Someone’s cold, hard chest pressed against your back.

This is a dream. A fucking nightmare. It must be.

Feeling the weight shift behind you, a cold breath of air at the back of your neck, wakes you up rather quickly. The panic settles in slow, creeping up as you process the situation, eyes wide open.

You squeeze your eyes shut, considering your options. You could tear that arm off you and make a run for it. Scream as you go, get the attention of your neighbours; the middle-aged lady whose name you haven’t bothered to learn, who is always so quick to blame you for any and every sound she hears. Or you could just go back to sleep, ignore your problems until the morning, or until the person behind you decides to do something. Just- just ignore it until then.

Or you could turn around and see who it is.

What if they’re not even asleep? Watching, waiting for you to react?

You try to rationalize it, you always do. Always have a plan, always prepared for anything.

Not this, though.

How the hell could anyone ever be prepared for waking up to something like this?

You try to move, to slide out of bed, moving so slow the person behind you wouldn’t notice if they’re truly asleep. Their grip only tightens around your waist, stilling your movement. You hold your breath.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!

What’s a person supposed to do here, in a situation like this? You’ve heard enough horror stories – stories from real life, real people, not mere fiction – about how these things usually end. A woman living alone, someone forcing entry to their home after weeks, or even months of stalking them, getting to know their schedule, their workplace, their life. Every option, every possible action you could take has its risks, and your mind in running a million miles per hour.

You decide to turn, the pure fear getting to you. Fear of simply not knowing who this person is, why or how they’re here, in your home. In your bed.

You turn, moving slowly and carefully again, to face whoever is in the bed with you. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear and anxiety or what or who you’ll see terrifying you to your very core.

There’s nothing there. In the dark room, you only see the moonlight peeking through the blinds, not doing much to light your room.

There’s nothing there.

Your eyes close and you take a deep breath, telling yourself it was some fucked up dream that just felt too real. You have been stressed out lately, more so than usual, so it's not that out of the question that it would start affecting you in different ways.

You promptly choose to ignore the still cold to the touch indentation on the mattress beside you.

You don’t even notice the now familiar eyes watching you from the corner of your bedroom.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!🌷

Also, I've been very busy and stressed recently, mostly with uni and assignments and starting my final thesis. I've found writing this to be sort of relaxing, like a way to get my mind off of things when it gets too much and my brain turns to mush. :)

#ghost!soap #cod mw x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish x you #soap x reader #cod x reader #soap x you #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader

[captain-tch]

Candy Striper (Eddie Munson x PlatonicGN!Reader)

You help look after the Munson family while Eddie is in hospital

He was here, again. Mr Munson was slumped in the chair beside Eddie's hospital bed, his hand weakly lying next to Eddie's. He looked like a puppet with the strings cut, and from the clothes he was wearing, he hadn't gone home. 

"I don't think I've ever seen him leave." The nurse besides you piped up. "Eddie coded last night and he's not moved since."

Your heart panged for him. You couldn't imagine the pain Eddie's uncle was going through. When Eddie arrived in the hospital only two days ago, no one believed he would make it through the night. But he was still here, after a few cardiac arrests and one major surgery, he was still here. He was nothing like the boy you exchanged awkward smiles with in class, his body lacking the life he always exuded. 

"It must be so hard." You mused, leaning against the counter. You mindlessly smoothed the fabric of your candy striper apron down. "Is there anything I can do?"

"There's some coffee in the staff room. Strictly for staff, only." She enunciated the words, nodding her head slightly to the side. "You look tired, why don't you grab a cup?" 

The pieces fell together, and you nodded your head. "Yeah, I think I will actually." 

You stood up from the desk, striding towards the staff room. The room was surprisingly quiet, the nurses having little chance to get a break with the sudden flood of earthquake victims. Looking over your shoulder, you reached for the coffee pot, pouring it into one of the disposable cups. The cup warmed in your hand. You faltered, before snatching up a handful of creamer and sugar sachets, shoving them deep into the pockets of your apron. 

You felt as if everyone was watching you as you walked towards Eddie's room, knocking lightly on the door. Wayne's head shot up, his eyes connecting to yours. His eyes were red rimmed and puffy, and guessing from the size of the bags underneath them he hadn't slept a wink since Eddie was admitted.  

"Hi Mr Munson," you sent him a weak smile. "I brought you some coffee." 

"Oh, thank you." He muttered, dragging his hand across his face. 

You placed the cup gently on the bed side table, pulling out all the sachets and dumping them on the sides. "I wasn't sure how you take your coffee so there's some creamer and sugar too." 

He appeared dazed. He looked up at you, something other than sadness spreading across his features. "That's great, I can't thank you enough." 

You smiled, heart breaking at how tired he seemed. "It's the least I can do." 

You bid him farewell, leaving to attend to other patient's. 

That was the first time of many. Like a magnet you were constantly drawn to the room, bringing Wayne a steaming cup of coffee and a smile each morning. The bags under his eyes got darker; he smiled more, and that was something. 

Today was no different. You lightly tapped the door, Wayne gesturing over his shoulder for you to come in. You deposited the coffee on the table, sugar already stirred into the caffeinated drink. You knew by now he hated creamers. 

"You're late, I was getting worried." Wayne joked. You felt lighter - that was the first joke you'd heard him make. 

"One of the patients made me go all the way back to the kitchens to get them a different kind of jello - its wobbly water, how can you tell?" 

A huff of a laugh passed Wayne's lips. 

"I don't mind though," you shrugged, your hand dipping into the front of your arpon. "The nurses told me you've not been eating." 

"I'm not hungry." 

"You need to eat." You sighed, pulling out the object in your apron. "I know it's not much... Please can you eat this? For me?" 

Wayne looked at the pudding cup in your hand, then back to you. "Aren't you going to get into trouble?" 

"Food in the cafeteria is free, you know, since everything has happened. Which you'd know if you went there." You waved the pudding cup in his face, sending him a pointed look. He sighed, reaching out and taking it from you. You passed him a spoon immediately, watching him like a hawk. 

"Wait, now?" 

You nodded. 

"I could report you," he grumbled. 

You smiled brightly. "But you won't - you like me too much." 

"Yeah, yeah," he brushed it off, ripping open the lid of the pudding cup. He dunked the spoon in, taking a big mouthful. He raised a brow at you. "Better now?" 

"Much." You glanced at the watch on your wrist. "I've got to go now - but you better eat that whole thing, or I'll tattle on you for bringing in visitors after hours."

He knew it was an empty threat. All of the nurses and staff on the ward knew he helped sneak in Eddie's friends, turning a blind eye when a handful of kids would scurry past. Sometimes the cleaners helped too. The whole ward was in on it - it was the worst kept secret there.  

"Yes ma'am." Wayne nodded, dipping in the spoon again. You tried to hide your smile, grateful he was finally eating. 

"I'll be back at the same time tomorrow." 

Just like you promised, you returned like clockwork with a coffee in your hand. Except this time a towel was slung across your shoulder and determination in your stride. 

"Oh, hey Y/N, busy morning?" He accepted the coffee, slurping loudly as he considered your tired frame. 

"Not really," you shrugged. "Long week." 

"You've been here every morning since I've been here, what about school?" 

You dragged a spare chair into the room, sitting across from him. You could always spare five minutes to talk, even if it meant staying later on your shift to compensate. "I normally only do Saturday mornings but given the whole situation, I thought I was needed here. Besides, the school is shut at the moment. It's the refuge centre." 

"That's very kind of you." 

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. You never thought too much about donating your time to the hospital, it was second nature at this point. You finally managed to muster some words. "Thank you sir." 

"Do you know my boy? You're at Hawkins High, right?" 

"Yeah I am." You leaned back in the chair, fiddling with your hands. "I know him, he's in my maths class. He lets me draw on his arm if I get stressed." 

"Those are your drawings?" 

You dipped your head, embarrassment clouding you. "How do you know?" 

"He's always showing them off, telling me how the coolest kid in school is using his arm as a canvas. I'd have to beg him to shower because he just didn't want to wash them away." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah, boy did he half stink at times. At least until he figured out he could just take pictures of them, then it didn't matter too much if they faded." 

You huffed a laugh, smiling distantly. "I never knew that." 

You looked at Eddie's still form in the bed. The colour was starting to return to his cheeks, and if it wasn't for the bandages creeping out beneath the covers you would have thought he was sleeping. "You know what Eddie would say now?" 

Wayne raised a brow, waiting for you to continue.

"He'd say you need to look after yourself, just like how you've looked after him all these years. Go home, sleep in your bed, shower and eat a hot meal." 

"My home was torn apart in the quake."

You sighed, slumping back in your chair. As if the earthquake hadn’t hurt him enough, by attacking Eddie and making him sick with worry, he now didn’t have a home either. You wanted to curse whatever higher power had inflicted this level of pain on his family.

“We’ve got some showers here, and the cafeteria. I know it’s not a lot, but it’s something.” 

Wayne immediately shook his head no, dead against the idea. “No, I’m not leaving him.” 

Instinctively, you sat up, reaching for Wayne’s hand. You held it softly, forcing his gaze to fall on you. “We need to make sure you’re here and you’re healthy for when he wakes up.” 

Wayne opened his mouth to protest, cut off by your voice. “You need a shower and some hot food. I’ll stay here, and if anything changes I’ll find you, okay?” 

Wayne stayed silent for a moment. He looked between you, Eddie and the heart monitor. Eddie hadn’t coded for a few days, and the doctors had said he appeared to be doing well. They just needed him to wake up. 

“What - what if he wakes up and I’m not here?” 

You tightened your grip on his hand. “He won’t be alone. I’ll be here. And if he wakes up, I’ll run and find you as fast as I can.”

He looked so conflicted, his gaze settling on Eddie. He sighed deeply, retracting his hand from yours and standing upright. He moved towards the bed, gently reaching out and squeezing Eddie’s fingers. “I’ll be back soon - you be good for Y/N.” 

He let go quickly, spinning on his heel. You reached for the towel on your shoulder, passing it to him. You led him out of the room, pointing out one of the nurses who could help direct him to the showers. He looked down at the towel in his hand, his lips curling at the edges. 

“You planned this all along?” 

You shrugged, a small smile on your face. “Just doing my job sir.” 

He nodded, walking towards the nurse. His steps faltered as he left the room, turning towards you. “He’ll be okay, right?” 

A lump grew in your throat. Seeing Wayne’s eyes keep dancing to the figure laying in the bed and how he was twisting the towel in his hands, you knew he was nervous. You were fairly certain it was the first time he’d left the room for more than five minutes. 

“He’s in good hands.” You managed to choke out, watching from the doorway as he seemed satisfied with the answer, following the nurse down the corridors. 

You turned back towards the room, walking towards the chair and falling back into it. This was the longest you’d spent here, and god was it awfully quiet. You twiddled with your thumbs, listening to Eddie’s steady breathing and beep of the heart monitor. The quiet felt suffocating, and soon you found words spilling out of your mouth without realising. 

“So I’m the coolest kid in school, huh?” You laughed, looking at his still figure. “I always thought that title was reserved for you. You don’t care what other people think, you are undeniably you. You own that shit.”

You paused, as if waiting for a response. One never came. 

“I’ve always wanted to be your friend, and not just someone who doodles on you. Maybe once you’re better we can hang out? I bet you’re dying to get out of here.” You winced, realising your poor choice of words. “Sorry, that was insensitive.” 

The silence greeted you once more. 

“You know, there’s this great book store just out of town. They have some tables at the back and you can play board games, they even have D&D. I reckon you’d like it there. Maybe you and your friends can go? I know since you’ve been in here they haven’t played.” You subconsciously moved your chair closer, so you were much closer to Eddie. “Your friends… they really miss you. They all really miss you. Dustin in particular.” 

You waited a beat, wondering if the mention of their names might awake him from his coma. He didn’t move an inch. You sighed. 

“They visit you all the time, which you probably already know.” You breathed a laugh, straightening out your uniform apron. “They bring food for the nurses though. Dustin’s mom makes the best brownies I’ve ever had. I could marry the woman.” 

You looked at Eddie, taking in the bandages and bruises lingering on his skin. You couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him to injure him so badly, unable to wrap your brain around the reasoning his friends stuttered out when he was brought out in the ER. They blamed stray animals; something told you that wasn’t entirely accurate. 

“I know you don’t know me that well, but you need to wake up soon. Everyone is so worried about you.” 

For a brief second, you swore you saw him move. But it was a trick of the mind, as he remained as perfectly still as he had since he was admitted. You tried not to be disappointed, falling into silence as you waited for Wayne to return. Minutes dragged by until you heard fast footsteps thudding down the corridor, Wayne’s slightly dishevelled figure appearing in the doorframe.

“Is he okay?” He asked breathlessly, surging forwards to be closer to Eddie’s bedside. A whiff of the hospital shampoo followed in his wake, clogging your nose with a smell similar to baby powder. You immediately left the chair, watching him flop into his gracelessly. 

“Yeah, watched him like a hawk.” You smiled. “Did you get something to eat?” 

“Not sure what all the fuss was about, it was hot mush.” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “But you ate something other than pudding cups.” 

“Eating is overrated.” He looked up at you, a small curl to his lips. “Thank you. For looking after me and my boy.”

“It’s my pleasure.” 

After that the two of you maintained a routine. Wayne would go shower, eat, try to find somewhere to stay while you remained at Eddie’s side, ears always perked for the consistent beeping of the heart monitor. It quickly felt as if you were visiting an old friend. Each day you brought something different to occupy yourself - a book (which you read aloud to Eddie), some knitting (you didn’t talk much these times, just allowing your string of curses to fill the silence as the yarn got tangled), and sometimes you wouldn’t bring anything at all. Sometimes you would merely sit by his bedside, talking into the void and hoping you would hear something back. You never did. 

On one mundane Tuesday morning, you strolled into the room, Wayne’s coffee in hand. You were oblivious to the unusual levels of noise leaving the room, simply walking over the threshold to complete your daily ritual. 

You froze. 

Wayne sat close to the bed, clutching Eddie’s hand as he chatted endlessly. This didn’t take you by surprise, having found Wayne engaging in full conversations with Eddie’s comatose body on many occasions. What did take you by surprise was how he was talking to Eddie - a very much awake Eddie. 

The coffee cup slipped out of your grip. The hot liquid sloshed onto the floor, burning your legs yet you couldn’t register the fleeting pain, gaze transfixed on the boy you had believed would never wake up. 

Both pairs of eyes spun towards you. Wayne smiled widely, frowning as he took in the coffee dripping off of your calves. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

Wordlessly you nodded, gulping nervously. “I’ll uh, I’ll go grab a mop.” 

Without uttering another word you turned on your heel, marching down the ward corridor. Casting a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw Wayne hadn’t followed you out. You collapsed against the closest wall, body slumping. 

He was alive, he was awake. Suddenly all of the conversations you believed to be one sided played on repeat in your brain. Oh god, you’d told him you wished you two would be friends. A wave of embarrassment washed over you. You prayed he couldn't recall any of it, just so you could save your dignity. 

But you couldn’t avoid him forever. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you pulled yourself upright. You marched towards the supply closet, filling a bucket with some water and snatched up the mop. As you were walking back towards the room, you could overhear snippets of conversation drifting out into the hallway. 

“This entire time?” 

Wayne’s laughter filtered into the corridor. “There wasn’t a day that would go by without them coming in here. I’ve got all the time in the world for them - they helped pull me back in during my darkest hour.” 

“Uncle Wayne…” You could hear the sadness seeping into Eddie’s voice. You didn’t want to interrupt their moment, waiting for a lull in conversation so you could re-enter. After a few minutes you grabbed your chance, walking in with the mop in hand, pretending to not have heard a word. 

“I see someone finally decided to wake up.” You teased, dunking the mop into the bucket, letting the mop soak in the soapy water. 

“Disappointed I can talk back now?” 

You occupied yourself with cleaning up the spilled coffee, hoping he didn’t catch the embarrassment clouding your features. “Guess I’ll just have to find another comatose boy to vent to.” 

Eddie laughed, a noise you never believed you would hear again. It was nice, you took a moment to relish in the sound. “Nice to know I’m so easily replaceable.” 

You matched his mood, a huff of a laugh passing your lips. You finished mopping, tidying away the fallen cup and looked at Wayne, who seemed the most alive you’d ever seen him. A smile curved onto your lips. They didn’t need you anymore. 

“Do you want another coffee Wayne?” He shook his head no. You picked up the bucket, sending the pair of them a bright grin. “I’ll leave you two to it - I reckon you’ve got quite a bit of catching up to do.” 

You retreated from the room, thankful that Eddie was finally awake and his uncle had him back. Deep down, sadness took root. No longer would you sit by Eddie’s bedside reading, knitting or talking. It felt like you had lost a friend. Shame quickly took its place, how could you think so selfishly when Eddie now had his life back? 

You brushed your feelings away, pushing down the pain whilst you attended to the rest of your duties for the day. 

~

Each day that passed, your days were getting less busy. More patients were returning home, the aftermath of the earthquake slowly but surely ebbing away. Beds were left empty in the hospital and eventually, they no longer needed you everyday. You found yourself lost on what to do, having buckets of time and no way to spend it. You were accustomed to spending hours walking the sterile halls, to spreading happiness to patients and trying to brighten their day. It was good work, work you took pride in, and now you had returned back to your usual Saturday mornings you found yourself craving to be back there. 

Your muscles acted with a mind of their own. You found yourself at the hospital, walking the familiar route to his room. You patted down imaginary dust from your jeans, suddenly self conscious. This would be the first time you had seen him outside of your working hours. 

You greeted a few nurses along the route, spending a few minutes chatting to your favourite cleaner. As much as you enjoyed the interactions, you were itching to already be down the corridor and in the room where you belonged. 

When you arrived at his door, your feet no longer cooperated. You wanted to walk in, self doubts suddenly plaguing you. To him, you were a volunteer, someone who was there to complete a duty. He could never comprehend the friendship you had woven with him over your visits. Maybe he would find this weird, you seeing him during allocated visiting times. Maybe he would kick you out. Maybe he would report you to the nurses. Maybe he had forgotten who you were, you hadn’t seen him since last Saturday. 

“Who’s there?” He called out, breaking you from your spiral. “I promise I won't bite.” 

You gathered all of your courage and flung the door open. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, a wide grin quickly overtaking his features. “Y/N!” 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you had been holding. He remembered your name, he recognised you outside of your candy striper uniform. 

“I haven’t seen you in forever - I thought you’d forgotten about me!” Eddie pouted, gesturing for you to come in. You obeyed, stepping into the room and falling into your favourite seat. “I didn’t realise you owned anything other than a candy striper uniform.”

You laughed heartily, relaxing back into the chair. A bout of silence enveloped the pair of you, and you thought back to the time where you sat here by his side, listening attentively to the monitors. That felt like a lifetime ago. 

Eddie broke the silence, playing with his fingers. “Have you been to the bookstore?” 

Your brows furrowed. “Bookstore?” 

“You know, the one with the D&D tables?” 

Your head fell into your hands. You prayed your hands could hide you from him, you could disappear and he would forget all of this ever happened. You mustered a squeak, unable to face the truth but thirsty to know the answers. “How much did you hear?” 

“All of it, I think.” His hands reached out, gently pulling at yours. Slowly you peeked up at him, your shoulders sagging at the sight of his shy smile. “You know, when I heard the coolest kid in Hawkins wanted to be my friend, I knew I had to wake up.” 

“Oh shut up,” you giggled, averting your gaze from him. “I’m nowhere near the coolest kid.”

“I heard what Wayne told you, you know, about the drawings? God, I wanted so hard to wake up right there and then to shut him up.” He shook his head, traces of a smile on his lips. “I always looked forward to that class, pretty sure that’s the only class I never skipped.” 

“I… I didn’t know.” You couldn’t wrap your head around Eddie’s words, scrambling for an explanation. “Why?” 

“Because it was the only time I could spend with my friend.” 

You couldn’t hide your smile, shaking your head. “Why didn’t we ever hang outside of class?” 

“I don’t know, I thought you wouldn’t want to be seen with the town’s freak.” 

“I don’t care about any of that.” You laughed again, shaking your head. “Why are we both so awkward?” 

Eddie joined your laughter, wincing as he jostled his side. 

“You know, I think I saw a pen around here.” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows. “What do you say we reminisce about the good ol’ days?” 

You gleefully obliged, scavenging the nurses office for a pen. You were by Eddie’s side in an instant, assuming the position and uncapping the pen. 

That’s how you spent the rest of your night, pen ink sprawling along Eddie’s arm as you talked way past visiting hours, forging a friendship that would last a lifetime.

stranger things masterlist

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[givemea-dam-break]

Hey!! I love your writing and was wondering if i could request a Lockwood x reader where the reader works at another agency, is injured and research-bound while they heal, and they meet Lockwood at the archives (thought it might be cute if he pretends to be researching but is really only there to see them) <333

a/n: yes!!!! oh i love this idea! thank you for requesting and for your support <3 I'm not entirely satisfied with the end, but i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: none gn reader

Carrying a bunch of newspapers and files while on crutches is much harder than it looks, you've found out.

Most of your time at the Archives which was supposed to be spent researching for an upcoming case has been spent, instead, trying to pick up the pile of newspapers you've dropped everywhere. Unless you want to sit on the ground and then try to stand up once you've retrieved them, there's no easier way to collect them off the floor with a cast that stretches from foot to thigh, and the few people in this section seem to be conveniently engrossed in their work.

You huff as you push the heap of information along the ground with your crutch.

Stupid stairs, you think. Miserable people.

But, then, there's a voice behind you saying, "Oh, let me help with that!"

Someone slips past you, bending down to the ground to pick up your research before turning to face you, smiling.

You know this face. It's the same face that you often see grinning in the current newspapers after completing big cases. It's the same face you see at odds with the Fittes teams throughout London. It's the same face you've seen around the Archives before, though it's usually accompanied by one of your close friends, a fellow researcher, George Karim.

This boy is Anthony Lockwood, owner of Lockwood and Co.

You'd recognise that grin he dons anywhere, having grown far too accustomed to seeing it when you read the newspaper in the morning before heading to your agency's headquarters - well, if a tiny studio apartment with a stash of equipment and a consultation table can really be called that. Bunchurch isn't much, but it got you on your feet in a town as expensive as London.

"Thank you," you say, clutching your crutches a little tighter.

"(name), right?" he says. "George's friend from Bunchurch? I'm Anthony Lockwood."

You nod. "I know who you are. You're practically the most famous teenager in all of London."

The smile he gives you is full of glittering white teeth that should come with a blindness warning. "Where are you sitting? I'll bring these over for you."

You point over to your table, which is covered with notebooks, pieces of paper, and multiple pens that have already run out. He takes your items over, and you hobble behind, flushing red when he pulls your chair out for you.

"Just to make your life easier," he says. "I can't imagine how annoying it would be to have a full-leg cast. How'd you end up with it?"

For the moment, he sits across from you. His smile eases the tension in your bones, and you understand why he's so successful. George has always told you of Lockwood's way with charm - it's how they've kept out of trouble - and how people always fell for it like flies in honey. You figured you'd be different, but you realise you're not. You're not mad about it, though. There's something reassuring in the easiness of it.

"I was on a case the other night," you explain. "Just me and this other girl. She got such a fright from the ghost that she tripped over while we were near the stairs on the second floor, pushed me over, and I fell down. I fractured some bones in my knee, or something, so now I'm stuck solely on research. Had no clue it propagated such a big cast."

Lockwood looks like he wants to say something, but changes his mind. "Must be sore."

You give him a look. "You can say Bunchurch is a joke. George has told me exactly what your opinions on us are, but some of us don't have Talents strong enough to constitute working for prestigious agencies such as yours." A pause. "Yes, it is quite sore."

"I don't think -"

"Yes, you do." Your laugh seems to ease him a little. "I think the exact same, don't worry, but they're the best I've got."

"It's nothing personal," he insists. The tips of his ears are curiously red, and you smile.

"No, of course not. Anyways, what brings you to the Archives? Thought George was your research man."

His grin has returned. "George is currently handling something else, so I told him I'd get some research done, although I'm having trouble finding things. I don't know how you do it."

"Well, I've spent most of my time here trying to push a pile of newspapers from one place on the ground to another, so I'm sure I can waste more helping you out if you'd like some help."

"Oh, you will not be wasting your time," he says. "Interesting stuff, this case."

"Is that so?" You raise an eyebrow. "What's the case?"

He looks like he's trying to hold back a laugh. "A cat haunting this poor kid's bedroom."

You snort in response, taking the notebook he hands you. It's not George's handwriting, which is messy and akin to chicken scratch, but rather loopy and pretty fancy-looking. Lockwood's, perhaps. He watches you the whole time, and usually the attention from someone would make you shrivel up and want to hide, but there's an easiness in his company. If anything, you feel bolstered by his attention, like you've done something right and earned it.

"It's in Soho? You must be getting paid a fortune. It's expensive there."

"Not much more than our usual fee," Lockwood says. There's a little undertone to his voice - nerves.

You frown at the writing. "Why are you even taking this kind of a case? It's something the people living there could solve with silver decor and a little bit of lavender in each room."

Lockwood shrugs. "We like checking everything out, I suppose. Getting rid of the ghost completely."

"Well, if you really want to do research on this, there's a section over there, you see that sign at the end of that bookshelf - No, not that one, the one behind it. Yes, that one. You'll find some stuff on Camden, the people who have lived there. Maybe there's a newspaper filing about a cat's brutal death or something."

He's quiet for a minute as if comprehending the words. "Yes, okay. Thank you."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you say, "Where's the case again, Lockwood?"

"Camden, remember? You just said."

"You've made this case up."

"What?" His ears are red again. "No, I didn't."

"Lockwood, I'm a researcher. I know things, like when people are lying. Camden and Soho are two extremely different places. And, well, no offence, but this write-up from your 'consultation' doesn't contain nearly as much as it should."

"Easy mix-up," he insists. "I had a long night."

But, judging from the masked expression on his face, you know you're right.

"George would never pass up doing research, no matter what else he was doing. He isn't handling anything today, is he?"

A moment of silence. "No."

"And you're not here to research a case. Even a six-year-old would know to go to the big sign that says Soho for a case there."

He's looking anywhere but at you, adjusting his tie or playing with the cuffs of his shirt.

"You just conveniently appeared when I needed some help." You think for a minute before smiling. "Anthony Lockwood, did you make up a case just to see me?"

It's a bold claim. You've never properly spoken to him, and you only really know him superficially, through newspapers and George and seeing him from afar. Logically, there's no way what you're saying is true. There's nothing overly interesting about you - no special Talents or hobbies, and your agency barely ever makes the paper. But your claim is right. You know it is.

"I'm not that scary. You could've asked me out for coffee, or something."

That's when his eyes meet yours, and you feel completely entrapped. They're warm and soft and filled to the brim with stories beyond your comprehension.

"And you would've accepted?"

You shrug. "As long as you suggested somewhere nice."

And there's that grin again, but something about it has changed. It no longer holds a building's worth of charm and persuasion. It's gentler, more Anthony than it is Lockwood. You smile yourself, goaded on by his.

"Well, would you like to go to get coffee with me? When you're not on crutches, probably. Or whenever."

"Do you always make up cases to ask people on dates?"

"Would my answer change yours?"

"Probably not."

"So...?" he prompts, and there's a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"I'll go," you say. "We'll see where we end up."

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