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sixhours · 25 days

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Firsts - Bath

Anna’s firsts, a series of fluffy drabbles set in the One Day at a Time universe.

Rating: Everyone Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, Joel is a sap, mostly follows canon, fluff, fluffy baby stuff, no really this is sickeningly sweet, tooth-rotting, don't forget to brush your teeth Word count: 1.3k

Notes: I promise it's just fluff this time. Sickly sweet with a dash of humor, nary an angsty cloud in sight. Joel thinks of Sarah but it's not sad.

You can also read Firsts on AO3.

~*~

Anna is eight days old.

“She smells,” Charlie says, handing the baby to Joel on her way to the kitchen, a stack of towels tucked under one arm.

Joel frowns. “I just changed her.”

“She needs a bath,” she says. “With soap.”

He takes an experimental whiff off the top of Anna’s sleepy head. She smells like mine , he thinks, that unique combination of scents that turns something in his animal brain to mush.

Then he takes another sniff and catches it. It’s still mine …just gone a little sour.

He’d forgotten how wrinkly newborns are. They find dried milk in the creases of her neck, her arms, even between her toes, and none of their gentle sponge baths seem to catch it all.

It doesn’t help that Charlie’s milk came in with a vengeance on day three, her letdown overactive and eager, and she drenches the kid if she doesn’t latch right away. The first time the poor girl took a firehose of breastmilk to the face, her parents choked on their laughter until they couldn’t breathe, then panicked that they’d drowned her–never mind that she couldn’t have drowned because she was too busy screaming at the top of her lungs at the indignancy of being hungry and soaking wet.

It’s been a long eight days.

But yesterday the umbilical stump fell off, revealing what Joel dubbed the world’s cutest belly button, and today the kid smells, so it’s into the bath she goes. With soap.

Charlie fills up a basin in the kitchen sink with warm water while Joel divests the milk-drunk and drowsing baby of her pajamas.

“Sorry, kiddo,” he mutters as she wakes and fusses at the air’s first contact on her bare skin. He never noticed how drafty the old house was until Anna came along. If they’ve learned anything about their daughter in her short time on this side of the womb, it’s that she hates to be cold. The fireplace roars in the living room and Joel tosses on an extra log to keep it that way, but the window over the kitchen sink is old and lets in just enough of the winter air to be uncomfortable.

He makes a mental note–soon forgotten, because everything is a hazy mess of nights bleeding together right now–to re-insulate that damned window.

When the basin is full and they’ve triple-checked the temperature, he lowers her squirmy little body into the water and concentrates on holding her upright, one large hand cupping the back of her neck. They used to have bath seats for things like this, he thinks, but one has not magically appeared in the multitude of baby things left at their doorstep, so they’ll do this the old-fashioned way.

Anna doesn’t seem to mind at first. Her little brow furrows curiously as Charlie starts to rub down her limbs with a bar of goat’s milk soap.

“She looks like you when she makes that face,” she says.

He mock frowns, mimicking Anna’s expression until Charlie snorts a laugh and flicks soapy water at him.

“She has your eyes,” he murmurs, nudging her with his shoulder.

“Most babies have gray eyes when they’re little. They’ll probably change.”

He shrugs and quietly hopes they don’t.

“S’not so bad, huh?” he murmurs to Anna, trying to remember if he’d done this with Sarah, but he can’t reach back that far–clouded by thirty-five years with sleep deprivation on both sides.

He does remember baths when Sarah was older–kneeling next to the tub with his two-year-old as a small tidal wave of a splash crashed over him, water all over the floor, coming away with his t-shirt and jeans soaked, lightly admonishing her for the mess but unable to suppress his smile at her delight. He’d done bathtime in his boxers after that.

But Anna is less than delighted and getting less so with every pass of the washcloth. She kicks out with a whine, legs pushing against the basin, and water splashes down the front of Charlie’s shirt.

“Baby girl,” Joel murmurs, trying to keep hold of her slippery form as she wriggles. He can almost feel the protest rumbling up her body, her little stomach going taut with a deep breath. Charlie gently brushes the cloth over her head, and that’s the last straw. Anna’s wail is deafening.

“Shit,” Charlie hisses softly. “I know, sweet girl. Almost done.”

The baby is rinsed and wiped down in a rush. Joel plucks her from the basin and puts her on his shoulder, patting her dry with the softest towel he can find. She yells her displeasure into the crook of his neck.

“I know, I gotcha,” he mutters, picking up one of his flannels that they modified to use as a swaddler–one of the good ones from Bill and Frank’s that gets softer and softer with every wash, the buttons snipped off so the sleeves can wrap around her tiny body like a hug. He takes her to the couch, closer to the fire, and wraps her into a soft, tartan-clad burrito.

A red-faced and furious burrito.

Charlie looks down at the front of herself, drenched. “I’m going to change. I need a shower, but—”

“Take your time,” he says, but he can barely hear himself over Anna’s cries. “I got her.”

“You sure?”

He’s not, but he’s supposed to be the experienced one, so he nods with a confidence he doesn’t feel. “Go, clean up. She’ll calm down.”

Charlie goes reluctantly, and Anna does not calm down, her cries growing more frantic with each passing minute, causing Joel’s stomach to clench and twist. It’s a visceral, rising panic, animal brain telling him she’s hurt and he needs to fix it .

He’s killed men in cold blood without breaking a sweat, but the wail of one helpless infant could bring him to his damn knees.

He moves closer to the radiant heat of the fireplace, shushing and swaying and patting her back through the flannel, but she’s worked herself into a state. She fights at the swaddle which is quickly coming undone. Eight days old and she’s already so strong, he thinks, a momentary flush of pride clouded by anxiety.

“Alright, baby girl,” he soothes, wracking his overtired brain.

In a flash of inspiration, he moves her to the crook of one arm, freeing his other hand to fumble at the buttons on his shirt. He undoes the first five, then unwraps her and presses her squalling form to his bare chest, skin to skin, before re-covering her back with the wrap.

It’s the shock of the sudden change more than anything, but it has the intended effect. Anna quiets, little legs and arms still moving of their own volition, toes digging into his belly and pushing like she’s trying to climb him. Her head bobs, mouth seeking, and he chuckles.

“Not gonna find what you’re lookin’ for here, little one.”

She makes a tiny sound, a frustrated huff, but there are no more tears, at least for now. He sways and hums softly with her cheek pressed to the center of his chest, fluffy hair all mussed from her bath and tickling his chin.

Charlie comes downstairs a few minutes later, toweling her hair, looking at them with wide, anxious eyes.

“Is she out?”

“Think so,” he whispers, craning his neck to try to see the baby’s face. “She just wanted to be warm.”

Charlie’s smile is soft as she trails her fingers down Anna’s flannel-clad back, a rare moment of peace that makes Joel’s heart flutter and skip against his ribs.

The quiet is short-lived, however, as he feels a warm, wet stream trickling down his chest and stomach, soaking the flannel wrap where he’s holding Anna’s diaperless bottom.

Charlie presses her lips together, stifling a laugh as the fabric darkens under his hand and the baby begins to wail. Again.

“Knew I forgot somethin’,” he grimaces.

“I’ll clean her up,” Charlie sighs, lifting the squalling child in the soiled flannel from his arms, then planting a chaste kiss on his nose for good measure. “Guess it’s bath time for everyone tonight.”

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #fanfic #babyfic #fluff #sickly sweet #tooth rotting #baby fluff #joel miller #joel miller x ofc #tlou fanfiction #tlou fluff #tlou fic

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bakutenshi · 3 months

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Komi tadano 🤝 rain kisses

my fav screenshots ever below cut 👇

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cryinq-boutstuff · 9 months

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Hey luvs! So eh I have t been posting, my cat recently passed and it had me crying for weeks so here’s a cute hobie brown Drabble <3

Hobie brown x reader(his girlfriend)

~ fluff,fluff,fluff, angst,hobie being a huge tease,reader getting annoyed,hobie being sweet

A/n:

I just wanted to write fluff and angst bc I haven’t been writing for a while and I don’t know abt smut…..

But I’m not saying there won’t be any in the future! Hope you like this!

Hobie lovvvveees teasing you. He just loves it when you get annoyed with him, he says angry sex is the best thing ever,

One day, he was playing his guitar, humming a tune as he played around with chores, I walked in and he turned to face me “hey luv’” he said, then he kissed my cheek “hey baby” I giggled “what’cha dooooin?” I ask him “I’m playing my guitar” he replies

I walk out and walk to the kitchen, looking for my leftovers, the spaghetti my mom made for me a few days back, I looked in the fridge, but it wasn’t there “hobie!” I yelled “did you eat my spaghetti?” I asked mad, “what spaghetti?” He asks

“Hobie!” I whined annoyed, as I crossed my arms “luv’ wha’ did I do?” He asks pretending not to know about the spaghetti, I looked back at him “you know what you did! I said, really annoyed I stormed out and sat on the couch, turning in the tv,

~a few minutes later~

“Oh shit, maybe she is mad at me” hobie thinks to himself and walks into the living room “luv’ I’m really, sorry, but that spaghetti was soo delicious” he said genuinely honest, I crossed my arms and looked away from him “baby.. com’ on” he said as he snakes his hands around my waist and kisse my cheek, I couldn’t help but give in, kissing him back “I love you” I said to him “oh so now ya’ love me?” Hobie teases “hobie! Say it back!” I said, playfully hitting his chest “okay, okay, I luv ya’ too luv” he said, then he kissed me. His pierced tongue sliding in my mouth, the cold metal jewellery hitting my tongue as we kissed

—————————————————————

That was harder than expected, I’ll make a smut soon my sluts, keep on simping <3

As always, love you <33

#hobie brown #tooth rotting #tooth rotting fluff #angry sex #guitar #guitarist #teasing #teasy boyfriend #hobie x reader #hobie my beloved #astv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hot as fuck

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hellcheerficdatabase · 1 year

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Unambiguous True Love

Author: lanniburdz (KEB15)

Rating/Warning: Teen and up audience

Chapter Count: 1/1

Description:

"Would you ever write a song about me?"

"I've written a thousand songs about you, Chrissy Cunningham."

Chrissy learns the meaning of true love through her metalhead and music.

Tags: Alternate Universe- canon divergence, alternate universe- everyone lives/nobody dies, established relationship, fluff, TOOTH ROTTING, they're in love your honor, it's so cute, Chrissy POV, one-shot, Status: Completed

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giftedpink · 1 year

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Genuinely how do you other eternally singlr people watch stuff that's heavy on romance? I cannot stomach it

#it just so #tooth rotting #not that stuff being sweet is bad im not trying to be like i hate love #it just makes me so lonely feeling lol

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oceantornadoo · 26 days

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two lieutenants. (simon riley x f!reader, all fluff)

not supposed to happen, not really. but the higher ups are finding their morality (where was it all these years ago?) and want to pat themselves on the back for adding a woman to the team.

simon is prepared to hate you, someone taking his spot. this one thing he's done in his life well, the one family he can protect. it itches him in a place he can't shake, the thought of change, of a new person. someone who will stare at his skeleton ways and his gruff voice, someone who will judge but not understand.

but then he meets you, tinkling laugh with doe eyes. calculating in your military knowledge, respectful of the 141's history. never overstepping, never trying to take his place, simply wanting to learn. he tries to hate you, tries to dump sugar in your tea and hide your eye black, but you just laugh and make a face at the sweetness, drawing an extra makeup stick out of your cargoes.

he needs to hate you, but you wash his extra masks without asking on the days he can't touch them for the blood that's laced into the seams. you include his cigarettes on base grocery runs and pour over tactical maps with him until the wee hours, understanding his fundamental need to know everything, more than what's in the briefing papers.

you are prepared to be intimidated by the ghost, the killing machine without a name. you know you're the only woman on an all-male team, but even you can't work friendship miracles. then you meet him and he cocks his head and sizes you up, seeing you as a threat instead of a piece of meat. someone worth considering, not a sideshow, not eye candy.

you try to be scared of him, but how could you when he always leaves an extra tea bag in the almost-empty box? when he keeps hair ties in his front pocket because yours always seem to break in between missions. he listens to your stories and nods thoughtfully, not needing to preen and puff his status like men you've met before.

you need to stay away, but he takes off his gloves in front of you that first time and suddenly you can't. he tells you to call him simon and that he likes the way you say his name, your dissimilar accent coming through. he brushes stray hair from the nape of your neck during a desert mission, tucking it back into your bandana, and you can't remember why you ever intimidated by this man who makes you earn his comfort and care, but who gives it endlessly once you've got it. he's your simon and you're his partner in crime, and suddenly you two could never imagine a team without two lieutenants.

im not always into power/rank play i want to be RESPECTED

(don't get me wrong it still eats sometimes)

part one part two part three part four

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod 141 #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #fluff #tornadothoughts #super fluff #tooth rotting fluff #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction

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attleboy · 4 months

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fraw ragatha and pomni cuddling 0v0

oh wow it's actually been a while since i've drawn them being gay... does this work for cuddling???

ragatha is now banned from moving until pomni wakes up. them's the rules..... i don't think she'd mind though. lap full of sleepy girl. heart full of joy

#tbh i don't think i understood the concept of tooth-rotting fluff before but yeah this is so sweet i feel like i'm gonna be ill #the amazing digital circus #tadc #buttonblossom #pomni x ragatha #tadc comic #my art #anyway! no more art till tuesday probably that's when my last final is okay byeeee #pomni #ragatha

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eideticallys · 1 year

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Who Needs Time Management When I Have You?

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: one of the many perks of having a boyfriend with flawless memory is that you do not have to remember stuff—he remembers them for you.

genre: tooth-rotting domestic fluff

word count: 1.5k

author's notes: i wrote this because domestic!spencer reid is a guilty pleasure of mine. i can definitely picture him as an attentive boyfriend because aside from the fact that he has flawless memory, he's an overall caring guy. with that said, i hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

ONE OF THE MANY PERKS OF HAVING A BOYFRIEND WITH FLAWLESS MEMORY IS THAT YOU DO NOT HAVE TO REMEMBER STUFF—HE REMEMBERS THEM FOR YOU. Do you have a dentist's appointment at 9? Covered. He will be waking you up at 7 with breakfast in bed. Your sister’s birthday is coming up. No worries! He has already ordered a bouquet ready to be sent on the day. It is amazing, and you thank your lucky stars for him every morning when you wake up and see him cozily sleeping beside you.

However, you were out of luck on the boyfriend angle today. You had your monthly—or if the BAU is free—girls' night scheduled tonight. As much as you enjoy having girls' nights with the BAU girls, Spencer also likes to spend some time out with the guys for a nightcap or something, whatever the men at the BAU enjoy when there is no case. And that means, your boyfriend is busy getting ready to go out as well. Although Spencer has never forgotten a thing in his life—even when he is on the brink of life and death—you do not want to stress him out even more by asking him what you think you have forgotten to prepare.

So, today when you were running around the house like a madman trying to collect the stuff you need to bring to Garcia’s for girls' night, you have no one else to blame but yourself. You have depended on your boyfriend to remember stuff for you that you always leave the preparation at the very last minute. At the moment, you believe you’ve never hated yourself as much as you did now, which is quite the feat considering that you’ve hated yourself a lot before for chickening out on confessing your feelings to boy wonder—your boyfriend, Spencer Reid—only to find out he shares the same feelings.

Scratch that, you hate your boyfriend right now more than you hate yourself.

Currently, that same boyfriend has been snickering nonstop at you dashing left and right and gathering the things you need to bring. Face masks? Check. Wine? Check. What else were you forgetting?

“You know, there’s this study that says only 82% of people have a time management system.”

Your ever-loving boyfriend, Spencer, decided to share. You were about to chuck the throw pillow at him because you could hear the I told you so in his voice, but you knew his fact-sharing and nagging was his unique way of saying, “I love you, but you could’ve remedied this problem by preparing the stuff you’ll need the night before.”

“No, I don’t, Spence. But, do tell.”

At this point, you’re pretty sure Spencer was sporting a shit-eating grin and was probably holding in a laugh at the strain in your voice from recalling whether you’ve got everything so you can head over to Garcia’s. You’re pretty sure Garcia is about to talk your ear off if you’re running late. You missed out on the last girls' night after you bailed on them, wanting to spend the night with Spencer, watching Star Wars, and eating takeout.

“There's a survey done recently which revealed that 90% of people say better time management can lead to increased productivity.” Spencer started explaining, hands waving around as if to demonstrate the numbers in front of him. “However, only 18% of people have a proper time management system.”

“And?”

“Well, it just reminded me of you.” Spencer pursed his lips now, as he tried to explain his thoughts without annoying you. “If you just had a proper time management system like a to-do list or a planner. You could save at least..” He stared at his watch and did the math, “You could save at least one hour and forty-three minutes of your time instead of panicking over whether you got all the things you need for girls' night.”

“I don’t need that when I have you. Don’t you think so?”

This made your boyfriend blush, and you giggled, heading towards his direction, so you could wrap your hands around his waist and bury your face into his chest. You were the luckiest person alive for getting to date someone as wonderful as Spencer.

What you just said would not have made anyone flush and nervous, but Spencer was different. You knew he’s never been in a formal relationship with anyone before you. Thus, from time to time, he still gets embarrassed by your antics which you’ll always be endeared by. You live to see your boyfriend getting flustered because it gives you a reason to shower him with affection like now.

“I love you too, Spence.”

You looked up at your boyfriend, who looked like he was about to burst from your directness. You and he may deal with a lot of blood and gore during work, but he can be the most fainthearted person alive when it came to your affections.

“B-but I didn’t say I love you..” He trailed off, confused as to why you were suddenly proclaiming your love for him. You grinned even more as you pinched the tip of his nose.

“You didn’t have to, Spence. I know your nagging is one way of you saying you love me, and I love you for that.”

Spencer scrunched his nose and rubbed the back of his neck out of shyness. If you could keep him in your pocket for safekeeping, you would. He’s just too precious for this world.

“But, as much as I love you, I know just as much that Penelope will have my ass kicked by Emily if I get to her house late,” you broke free from your boyfriend’s comfy arms, checking the bags you packed while doing so. “I have to go, baby. I think I got everything I need.”

Picking up your bag and care package, you ruffled your boyfriend’s brown locks, which made him frown a bit and sigh. You snickered at his reaction and proceeded to walk towards the front door. You were about to reach the staircase just outside your shared apartment when you realized something.

You forgot your car keys.

Berating yourself in your head, you were certain once you entered that door, Spencer would be on your case like a mother duck. He can be too fretful when it comes to you. Oh well, that is one thing you love about him. Huffing, you slowly turned the doorknob and found Spencer leaning on the wall just inside the door with his arms crossed, looking at you smugly. You rolled your eyes.

One thing about Spencer Reid is he can be a cocky little shit when proven right. And that happens most—if not all—the time, with his IQ of 187 and eidetic memory. Unfortunately for him, he also happened to date a cocky little shit—you—who likes to fluster the living lights out of him. And right now, you just thought of the perfect way to get back at him.

But first, your car keys. Spencer next.

Once you have retrieved the pesky item—like it’s the car keys’ fault, you forgot to get them—you turned towards the door, not paying any attention to your boyfriend, who was already cracking up at you. Only when you’ve reached the door, your back towards Spencer, did you smirk. Oh, he’ll never know what’s coming to him. You did a U-turn and

“Forgot something, sweetheart?”

“Why, yes I did, Dr. Reid,” you stated plainly, beelining towards him, making him take a few steps back until he ended up with his back against the wall. He's so easy to fluster. "I forgot to do this."

You slanted your head and pressed your lips against his. Your bodies were snug against each other as you kissed heatedly against the wall. You could feel the flutter of his long lashes against your cheeks as he parted his lips slightly to kiss you deeper. You could taste your shared breath, smell his faint perfume, and feel the slight scruff of a stubble about to show up. Warmth blossomed in your chest when you felt Spencer caress your face as if you were fine porcelain.

Kissing Spencer Reid never gets old in your books. Despite his lack of romantic experience and being the eager researcher that he was, Spencer was an eager lover—he would kiss you every chance he'd get to know how to please you, which paid off, by the way. This may be a biased opinion but you think the best kisses you have shared were with Spencer.

However, like all good things, kissing Spencer has to end, or Garcia will have you banned from her house for running late.

You pulled away from Spencer and grinned at him, to which he returned with a stunned smile. You chuckled when you noticed your lipstick smudged on the corner of his lips and brushed a finger to erase it. You wouldn't want your boyfriend to be the subject of Morgan's teasing once they're together after this. Noticing the daze your boyfriend is under is about to wear off, and he was about to say something, you beat him to it by pressing a smooch on his nose and pulling away completely.

"I gotta go, Dr. Reid. Don't miss me too much!"

You scampered towards the door and shot a wink at your bewildered boyfriend—who was now sputtering in indignation for interrupting what he was about to say. He is so cute.

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vampiresfromxenon · 7 months

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I Wanted To

Astarion x gn! Reader/Tav

Almost 3.5k words

Tags: Fluff, kisses, cuddling, angst, biting mention, no use of y/n, words of affection (so much sappiness), soft! Astarion, they’re in love your honor!!

CW: Slight mentions of SA and trauma (extremely minor, incredibly light piece)

Summary: You and Astarion decide to start your relationship over once you both confess your feelings. It's a mutual decision to take things extremely slow, celebrating little victories of intimacy here and there. Tonight, you can't hide your words of affection as he becomes more comfortable and vulnerable around you.

It’s been a few months traveling with this rowdy crew, and you can’t help but smile thinking about how much you love them all. Granted, they all piss you off on the daily, what from Shadowheart and Lae’zel attempting to kill each other, to Gale eating your favorite pair of enchanted gloves, but you can’t help yourself from smiling every time you think about how close you’ve all grown. One particular member in the party you have become very close with stands out a bit more than the rest, and thoughts about him are enough to make you unsettlingly giddy.

For the longest time, you and the pale elf fought your feelings, too cold to warm up to each other. You both had a wicked past, something that tainted your current perceptions of love and romance. His may have been far more extreme than yours, but regardless of that fact, your feelings and emotions were still valid. For a short few weeks, you found yourselves being extra intimate, dismissing it all as stress relief and nothing more. Those little excursions were merely there as a form of self protection: He gained your trust and protection, and you felt less alone and vulnerable at night. Or, so you thought, until you noticed how distant he was, his eyes never meeting yours every time he sought to pleasure you.

It wasn’t until recently that these barriers slowly began to be chipped away for the both of you, your infatuation not only becoming more real, but unfortunately, more terrifying. One night, you approached him, being brave and understanding if he had other thoughts about what you two could be. It was late, most of the camp either asleep or preparing for bed. You approached him, a soft hand on his shoulder, even though he was well aware you were there. What you were there for though, remained a mystery to him. He turned, smiling at you, taking your hand and kissing it affectionately. As your heart raced, you began a discussion with him, asking his thoughts and feelings about your ‘connection’ rather than just bombarding him with an overwhelming confession of love.

He seemed stunned to say the least, unsure of what to say or how to feel. It was strange for him, his cold heart beating a little faster, feeling a little warmer at the sight of you in front of him, actually seeing him for him and not just another plaything. All these feelings were bubbling up inside him because, for the first time in a long time, someone not only asked him what he wanted in a romantic relationship, but they respected anything he said on that subject matter. In all his nervousness, he felt that he could be honest in his reciprocation to see how far you two could go, this time with real feelings. That was a few weeks ago, and all this time since has been magical.

You haven’t intimately slept together since just before that night, instead establishing boundaries and focusing more on the non-sexual ways to be intimate, loving, and kind. He loves the way your hand brushes his, the way your fingers interlace with his as he moves in to hold your hand. You love the way his hand lands on your back, stretching to your hip to pull you closer to him, especially when meeting new people from town to town. While you still struggle with eye-contact in general, it feels easier around him, especially now since he has found himself to be more comfortable actually looking at you, taking in your appearance and being more present in your conversations.

For many nights now, you’ve been cuddled up nicely in one or the other’s tent, fingers interlaced, hands gently wrapped around hips, legs occasionally intertwined. He still continues to feed on you, though he makes sure to gain your permission before bed each night. On the nights where you felt too tired, too drained mentally even, he would leave you be, hoping to keep you as comfortable as possible. Those nights were just as romantic, as you could feel his breath against your neck as he cuddles you tightly, his lips on your shoulder as he falls into the soft rhythm of sleep.

Tonight didn’t start off any differently from any other night; you both gathered in his tent, doing your nightly routines as per usual (always before promptly passing out until the next morning hit you like a boulder). Most nights he would wear a nice, silky pajama set, one he purchased from an unreasonably expensive fashion designer in a small village. You didn’t have as luxurious of pajamas, but yours still covered most of your body, keeping you feeling safe and snuggled up each night.

Neither of you expected that this night would change everything.

He’s standing off to the side of your shared bedroll, changing into his pajamas while your back is turned to him, fiddling with the blanket you both share. You notice just how used this blanket is, and you realize that it might have been the only thing giving him comfort, the feeling of security over the past 200 or so years. Astarion was far from one to share, whether it was his feelings or his belongings, and it isn’t long before you have a second realization: you are possibly the only person to have ever slept with that blanket besides him. Your fingers gently roll the decaying fabric between your fingers, taking in all of his memories that have been exhausted on the threads.

You hear him walking over and you drop your thoughts about the blanket, not wanting to pry into more of his distressing past. He kneels, picking up the blanket and sliding next to you, your bodies touching in an instant. Turning your attention away from the blanket, you look up to see your love is shirtless, moving around in the bedroll, trying to be more comfortable at your side.

You know just how insecure he is about his scars from Cazador, that disgusting, vile, treacherous bitch, but it was so lovely to see him stepping out of his comfort zone. While you’re quick to notice this new change, he’s even quicker to notice your reaction. Diving back into his comfort charm, he smirks at you, loading a phrase to protect his vulnerable side.

“Like what you see, darling?” His eyes flutter to the side a bit, and you immediately notice his withdrawal from the conversation. With a calm and gentle hand, you caress his cheek, turning his attention back to you.

“I always love what I see…” You smile, your eyes looking at him in such a way that your face beams with pride, though you try to find a balance between that and neutral so as to not overwhelm him. To see just how much he trusts you, is willing to open up to you and be vulnerable… Your heart can barely take it. In a quiet voice you’re sure to check in on him, wanting to make sure he feels secure in his choice. “Don’t feel you have to do this for me though, okay?”

His hand reaches up to hold yours against his cold cheek, his stare suddenly becoming more present. “I wanted to.” His voice is low, his hand taking yours off his face as he leans in gently to kiss your palm. He kisses your forehead before moving to lie down, making himself comfortable in your small space.

You sit there for a moment, considering your options. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you want him to be aware that you feel the same sense of shared comfort. As he turns to the side, looking at a book he left on the ground earlier, you move to remove your shirt, tossing it off to the side. He moves the book away from you both so you don’t roll into it in the night. Turning back to face you, he pauses, taking in the sight of your bare chest. He looks up at you, tilting his head, nearly asking you the same question you just asked him.

Before he can say anything, you lean slightly closer to him, your voice a loud whisper. “I wanted to.” His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s flattered by this display of intimacy. You begin to crawl under the old blanket with him, and he pulls you close, his hand around your waist. The feel of his cold, soft skin against your bare back is enough to send shivers down your spine, and you realize that this must be so close to what heaven feels like. His free hand reaches up and caresses your jaw before tangling in your hair, gently playing with it as he knows it helps you fall asleep.

Your hand rests on his bare chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat slowing down as he continues to relax in your care. You lie there for a while, trying to sleep, but something is keeping you awake. Perhaps it’s the looming threat that you could all die soon in brutally vicious ways, or the fact that you don’t want to waste a single second enjoying this time with your new lover. Suppose you’ll never truly know.

Regardless of what is keeping you up on this night, you begin to feel a little restless, unable to lie there in that position for too much longer without your arms going numb. You sit up a little, leaning on the arm you’ve been lying on, trying to not wake your companion. However, his body shifts with you, and it appears that he is still just as awake as you are.

“I didn't wake you, did I?” You whisper in a worried voice.

“Not in the slightest, my dear. Unable to sleep tonight, as I am sure you understand.”

You sigh, still leaning over him slightly, his hand that was once on your waist now drawing circles on your shoulder blade, the hand in your hair now resting on your hip. You want to speak, but you find yourself getting lost in the way his face looks in the moonlight peeking through his tent flap. It frames his face so perfectly, almost as if this scene was sculpted by the Gods. He notices your sudden distance, and he is quick to check in on you.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks, a tinge of concern in his voice, once again tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Sorry… Yes, yes. More than alright.” You reassure him, not breaking your focus. A beat; he attempts to determine what’s on your mind. Thinking he’s found it, he smirks.

“Admiring how beautiful I am?”

“Yeah… Just looking at creases around your eyes…” You say in a loving tone, not even remotely aware of how backhanded the comment you just made sounds.

He begins to shuffle, pushing you away, offended by your lack of sincerity. “Alright, there’s no need-”

“No! Not like that.” You chuckle, snapping back into reality. You grab him, pulling him back to you, his head pressing back into the pillow below you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just-” You can’t stop yourself from laughing a little at the sight of your pouting partner underneath you.

You notice just how unamused he is, and you abruptly stop laughing, clearing your throat and composing yourself in a more serious manner. Your hand reaches up and the pad of your thumb brushes against his crows feet, your mind falling back into your feelings of love and adoration for him.

“The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh… The way your eyes sharpen when you’re glaring at me, like you are right now… The way they soften every time I walk in the room… I love those wrinkles, they’re such a beautiful part of you.” He relaxes again, taking in your words, though still unhappy at your mention of his wrinkles, making him feel old. Though, no matter how much he hates his aging characteristics being brought up, he will never turn away any form of flattery.

“Well, augh. You really are sweet, aren’t you? But I’m sure you like more of me than just my dreaded wrinkles.” He was definitely fishing for compliments, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t aware of just how much you wanted to smother him in loving words. You lean forward and kiss his crows feet on both sides, surprising him. Smiling, your thumb traces over his eyebrows, taking in their shape and feel.

“My eyebrows, really? Nothing else catching your eye?” He whines, his hands going back to resting on your shoulder blade and hip. He can feel your body shake as you laugh, your head falling forward towards his chest as you continue to giggle from his pouting. You bring your head back up, focusing on his face once more.

“One thing at a time, dearest.” You pause, analyzing the shape of his eyebrows. Just how sharp they are, how often he uses them to his advantage when he is charming people. As you continue to gaze at them, he raises one of them, making your heart go crazy.

“You’re so expressive. Your eyebrows are so perfectly shaped, the way you use them like a weapon… I know it’s silly, I know they’re just eyebrows, but they’re your eyebrows, and they mean so much to me.” You trail off, your face flushed with embarrassment as you realize just how overly sentimental your words are. He smiles at you, knowing just how hard you’re trying, and appreciating every second of it. You kiss his eyebrows before quickly moving on.

Your fingers trace along his face, noticing his mole. By now he’s exhausted, you’re three for three with things he’s sensitive about. “Darling, if this is your way of making me feel less upset about not being able to look in mirrors, I must say it’s starting to work.” His words deceive his face and body language, but you still try to abide by his wishes.

Wanting to show your love, without spending too much time on it, you mention how much the mole under his eye suits him, how he would almost seem incomplete without a beauty spot. The usage of ‘beauty’ in ‘beauty spot’ convinced him to let it slide, but the ice you were dreamily skating on was wearing thin. Kissing his mole, you move on once again.

The skin of his nose was soft as you trace the pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose. “Your nose… it’s so sharp. Don’t laugh, but one of my favorite feelings is when I wake up and your nose is either on my back or my neck. I can feel your breathing on my skin, your nose pressed against me while you sleep. It’s so calming, having any little part of you so close to me.” He looks at you a little confused, mostly due to the fact that you’re still here appreciating him. The things you’re saying, they’re so small and insignificant, yet you enunciate each word like it’s the most important thing you’ll ever say. Each word has a purpose, a meaning, and they fall out of your mouth effortlessly; something he still has yet to learn how to do.

You kiss the tip of his nose, your fingers tracing down his face to his smile lines. Oh his smile lines. You just can’t help but adore his smile lines, no matter how much he absolutely hates them. He hates them because they age him, but you love them for all the same reason. To know he laughs, smiles, has any semblance of being happy is enough for you to be overjoyed at the sight of these lines that prove the existence that he has been able to enjoy life enough to have physical proof on his face.

“Don’t you dare.” He teases, though you wish he could bear with you for just a moment to explain your thoughts. Figuring you could do it another time, as tonight has already had enough excitement, you kiss his smile lines and spare him from your honeyed words.

Last, but certainly not least: his lips. Your thumb traces over his lips which are closed together, gently pushing up just enough to where you wonder if he was trying to secretly kiss your thumb. As you continue to run your thumb over his lips, reminiscing on all the times your own experienced his, he takes you by surprise.

Removing the hand from your hip, his thumb graces your lips, and you find yourself trying to inconspicuously kiss at it like he did to you just moments ago. You open your mouth to speak, but he uses his finger to silence you, gently shushing you.

“My turn.” His voice is smooth and tender as his thumb continues to trace over your slightly parted lips. “Your lips… They have always been so soft and inviting.” He pauses, still staring at them.

“I must admit, I despised them at first.” A confused expression crosses your face just before he continues. “They would taunt me on a daily basis, the one thing I couldn’t have no matter how much charm I threw at you. When I was eventually graced with them, I loathed the way my name would be cried out from them, almost as if you were saying it like a prayer. It tore me apart, wanting something I wasn’t sure I actually wanted, or even felt like I deserved…” He trails off, though his gaze remains constant on you.

“How do they make you feel now?” You softly ask, just barely loud enough for even yourself to hear.

He thinks on this for a moment, searching for the proper word.

“Safe.”

He leans up to you, cupping your cheek as he kisses you, the most delicate and loving kiss you two have ever shared. You both pull from the kiss, exercising restraint and respect for your pre-established boundaries. A hand resting on his chest, you encourage him to lie back on the pillow once more, which he does. You lean forward, kissing every part of his face that you mentioned, as well as a few spots just because you wanted to. Kissing his lips again, you pull apart just enough to whisper against his lips.

“I admire everything about you. Every aspect of you is just so lovely… Thank you for being here, with me. I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

He smiles, his fangs poking out this time. His hand moves a strand of hair out of your face as he clears his throat.

“And thank you for all the kisses.” He says, resuming his usual charm. You try to hide your slight disappointment, but you know he is trying his best and you can’t expect him to always meet you halfway, especially in this time of healing.

“Always.” You whisper, lying down next to him as he wraps his arms around you, holding you closely. It’s late, and now that you have this feeling lifted off your chest, you find it easier to sleep. Your heart rate begins to slow, your breathing finding its usual pattern, your lover wrapped up tightly with you.

When you’re on the edge of falling asleep, you feel his head tilting down towards yours, which is resting on his chest. His lips kiss the top of your head, his chin then resting on that same spot. A quiet voice breaks the air, unaware that it still has an audience.

“I love you.”

You freeze, unsure of whether or not you have actually fallen into a dream state, or if you just heard him correctly. In this state of grogginess, your body shifts as you attempt to determine the truth.

“Shit. Did you hear that?”

“Mhm.” You sleepily groan. He lets out a sigh of relief, thinking he’s talking to you in your sleep like he has before. Settling further into the bedroll, making himself more comfortable, he pulls you tighter, finally deciding to rest.

“I love you too.” You break the silence, your voice more awake this time. His eyes flash open, his red irises laser focused on you. You can feel his heart pounding as you rest on his chest, and you lean over and kiss just above his heart.

“Safe.” Is all you can say before promptly passing out, your warm skin slowly heating up his own. He sits there for another moment, taking in the events of today. It was a lot, to say the least, but he felt comfortable and confident in his decisions, and that was almost truly a first for him. His hand finds its way back into your hair, stroking it as he begins to drift off to sleep, for the first time in a long time feeling comfortable, guarded, protected, safe.

Author’s Note:

He’s extremely OOC, I’m 95% sure lmao but I love making characters total softies, even if we don’t see that side of them in the media they’re from. (I'm still in the very beginning of Act 2 so I'm learning a lot about him through this site too)

I’ve never experienced love, I’m also sure that’s obvious- I’ve always wanted to do something like this with someone though (look at their face and kiss all my favorite spots). While I was writing this, I felt so awkward writing such sappy dialogue, but I realized that moments like these aren’t smooth and rehearsed; feelings get mushy and oftentimes people say dumb and dorky things because they’re just so in love. I hope it gets translated that way at least hahaha

My Spotify is fucked because I listen to specific songs on repeat whenever I write. I have probably about 4-5 hours of “Blue Moon” by Billie Holiday logged on there now because of all the time planning, writing, and thinking about this fic- I got this song from Neil’s Astarion playlist, it’s so sweet and loving :)

Edit: So many people are saying he’s actually pretty in character so thank you for the validation because I was nervous 😭

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caelanglang · 1 year

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Shhhh…. They’re busy recharging and being in love

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malebreastmilk · 1 month

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how gojo would sleep with you imagine(?)!!!

Gojo ♡ Greedy ♡sleepy!gojo who is actually a bit nervous the first few times you cuddle despite his usually confident exterior, short glances trying to gauge if you’re comfortable with being so close with him like this, reassure him and watch the way his eyes light up ♡sleepy!gojo letting out fake and obnoxious yawns, throwing you fake frowns as if he was the saddest puppy in the world until you finally concede to his attempts at getting your attention, don’t expect to be moving once you’re next to him, he’s tangling his lanky build around you holding you tightly… he can’t lose you

♡sleepy!gojo SNORING like the perfect prince he is! denies that he snores if you mention it, he feels safe with you that’s all, he lets his guard down, he lets himself live, hold him while cuddling and watch him melt in your arms, blush painting his face pink, he’ll hold your hand with his and squeeze it, he’s eternally grateful

♡sleepy!gojo always ending up with all the blankets leaving you with nothing but him, not even anything you sleep with is safe…if you sleep with stuffed animals? across the room on the floor, he punches them when you aren't looking too! pillows? his side or also on the floor! despite that he’ll litter you with kisses when he wakes calling you all yours and his favorite pet names

“Goooooood morning my sleepyhead~! Are you ready for your morning kisses, because I know I’m ready for mine!”

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lovelybluebirdie · 3 months

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Everyone's favourite

There are those words lingering back on Astarion's throat, eager to dig themselves out.

They appear while you rest in his arms, sleeping comfortably, calm breaths escaping your lungs.

When you pull him into a deep embrace, spending comfort after he wakes from another nightmare of his past abuser – holding him close to your chest, without any judgement, only warmth.

Sometimes they rise as he just perceives you, sitting on a log with a goblet of wine in your hand, gesticulating wildly while talking to Karlach, looking so adorable that he has trouble taking his eyes off you.

Other times they flash his mind when he sees you fighting, concentrated, doing everything in your might to protect your dear companions – to protect him.

He thinks of those words while his chest aches over the fondness in your gaze. Your smile – affectionate, always warm.

It’s when you insist on treating his minor wounds after a rigorous battle – barely a scratch, and yet you won’t leave his side until you make sure that his bleeding stops and he’d promise to rest.

They seethe from you touching him – his hair, his ears, his back. Your fingers, light and soothing, exploring his body, caressing his cold skin.

Words he used before on you – dishonest, tainted. Back when he was trying to manipulate you, gaining your trust.

Since then something between you has shifted, and those words continue to linger. To consume him, his thoughts.

It distracts him – annoys him.

Hells, deep inside he already knows what this is, he just needs to find his voice, his courage to let you know.

One night you two sit by the campfire, alone, only Scratch beneath your feet and the Owlbear cub resting on your lap.

Astarion needs to tell you – now – or he might burst into flames. A lump forms in his throat, his tongue heavy.

He grasps your hand, nervous, his eyes widened. You ask if he's alright, and he nearly stumbles over his words as his mouth opens, fangs bare.

When he finally tells you, you lean forward to kiss him – soft, loving.

You say that you love him too, more than anything you ever held dear in this world, and Astarion’s heart grows full.

When he kisses you once more, somehow it almost feels like it starts beating again.

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x you #astarion brainrot #astarion drabble #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #bg3 x reader #astarion imagine #astarion baldurs gate #astarion romance #astarion fluff #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #bg3 #bg3 astarion

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hyperactively-me · 8 months

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king!ghost x reader -- exploratory

it’s giving anakin and padme in the fields in that one scene from attack of the clones except add in smut 💐

warnings: smut, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, missionary (also yes i am aware that this is fantasy and theres no protection here, she's not gonna get pregnant from this time because i say so lol i make the rules!)

Under the vast expanse of the open sky, the gentle clip-clop of hooves resonated through the serene countryside. You and Ghost rode side by side on your horses, the wind playing with your hair as you explored the winding trails and rolling hills of Kastron. You were rarely let out of the castle, so this little day trip with Ghost was meaningful to you. You were excited to see the natural beauty of Kastron. There was an air of freedom around you, the two of you escaping your responsibilities just for today, finding solace in the beauty of nature.

As you rounded a bend, the landscape before you transformed into a breathtaking sea of color. A ginormous flower field stretched out like a living painting, petals swaying in the breeze like waves on a tranquil sea. Your eyes widened in awe, a delighted gasp escaping your lips. You reined in your horse, a large grin forming on your face.

“Simon, look at this!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with excitement.

Ghost pulled his horse to a stop beside you, his gaze following your pointing finger. The corner of his lips quirked up as he studied your reaction, his normally stoic expression softening in the presence of your sheer delight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice warm.

You turned to him, your eyes sparkling. “I've never seen anything like it! I’m going to see it up close.” You slide off the saddle, patting your mare before turning to face the fields.

"Of course," Ghost replied, his tone holding a hint of amusement. He sits high atop his horse, studying your form.

The scent of flowers filled the air, wrapping around your body as you entered the field. The world was a carousel of colors – vibrant reds, delicate pinks, and radiant yellows, – all coming together to create a rainbow.

Unable to contain your enthusiasm, you let out a joyful whoop, throwing your arms up in the arm. You spin around, your arms outstretched, face upturned to the warm sun. Your laughter blended with the rustling of greenery in the breeze. Turning your gaze to Simon, you found him watching you with an affectionate glint in his eyes. Your elation mirrored his expression, and a comfortable silence settled between you.

With a mischievous grin, you whip around and take off running through the field, your feet sinking into the soft earth with each step you take. Simon’s gasps for a moment, watching you take off. He jumps off his horse, following you as you twirl and skip amidst the flowers. His heart swells in his chest at your joy, in your simple infatuation with the fields of flowers. You’re dozens of feet ahead of him, your dress whipping in the wind as you frolick.

Yet, as you looked back to see where Simon was, you stumbled over your own feet, your laughter mixing with a surprised yelp as you fell to the ground. Simon’s heart lurches, and he breaks out into a sprint towards you, his concern immediate.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asks, chest heaving, falling to his knees beside you on the ground.

You roll over onto your back, your hands hiding your face. He can’t tell if you’re laughing or crying.

“D- don’t cry,” he says gently, hands hovering over your form.

You bring your hands down over your mouth, and he sees your eyes are filled with mischief.

You burst into laughter, unable to contain the amusement bubbling within you. As your eyes meet his concerned gaze, you can’t help but laugh even harder, your mirth contagious.

“I- I’m not crying, Simon!” you manage to get out between fits of laughter.

Simon blinks at you, clearly confused by your reaction. Relief starts to mingle with his confusion as he watches you laugh, and then his lips slowly curl into a reluctant smile.

“You scared me for a moment,” he says, letting out an exhale. He looks at you, your smile, your beautiful face, and it suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. He rips his balaclava off his face unexpectedly, catching you off guard. You look up at him, mouth slightly agape as your laughter dies down.

Suddenly, he straddles you, swinging his legs on each side of your body. He presses his hands into your shoulders, fingers gently squeezing your soft skin. You gasp at the feeling of his body on top of yours, and you bring your hands up to hold his wrists. You grin up at him, your eyes dancing with amusement. The flowers you’re laying in surround you like a colorful crown. The sight of you laying amongst them makes Simon’s heart pound.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just clumsy…” you murmur, brushing his tousled hair with your fingers.

He just looks at you. Your eyes flit to his mouth, his lips slightly parted. He hovers over you, unspoken desires hanging in the balance of the moment.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do all day,” you whisper, trailing one of your hands up his chest.

Before he could respond, you closed your grip on his tunic and gently tugged, pulling him down towards you. The surprise in his eyes turned to a mixture of warmth and anticipation as your lips met in a soft, tender kiss.

He groans quietly into your mouth, his hands drag up from your shoulders to cup your face.

As you pulled away, Simon’s lips curved into a genuine smile. "That was worth tripping for."

You chuckled, your fingers tracing patterns on the fabric of his tunic. "Definitely worth it."

He kisses you again, pressing his hulking body on top of you. He slides his tongue into your mouth, his hands cupping your cheeks to deepen the kiss. You gasp into the kiss, eyes instinctively screwing shut because you’re so full of anticipation and your body has gone to jelly because Simon is engulfing your senses, so big and strong, so perfect, as he kisses you.

The warmth of his body against yours ignites a fire within you, the moment intensifying as he gives you more, more, more. Every touch, every caress means something more than it ever has before.

He breaks away from the kiss, panting with his face flushed. He licks his lips, pupils blown as he stares at you with nothing but adoration.

“Si, please.”

That nickname, the breathy please that fell from your lips.

It was over for him.

In an instant, he’s latched onto your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your skin, hands running down the sides of your body. He presses his hands into your sides, squeezing your soft curves. He lifts his head up from your neck when you let out the quietest, breathy moan. He looks down at you, your mouth slightly agape, his eyes search your face.

“Do you trust me?”

You lick your lips, nodding your head.

“No, no, darling, I need to hear you. Use your words.”

You shudder at his words, at his implications. “Yes, I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

He delves back into your neck, sliding his hand behind your head to push you closer to him.

“Wanna make y’feel good,” he mumbles into your neck between kisses, nipping at the sensitive skin. Warmth floods your face as he speaks, your core growing wet with arousal. You press your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the growing pressure in your core, your clit throbbing as he kisses you.

Your hands brush over his broad shoulders, swallowing as he works on your neck. Suddenly, he starts sucking hard at your skin, putting pressure into the curve. He kisses a trail from your neck, up to your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You gasp quietly, and he pulls away, admiring his work. The feeling of his feather light breath on your skin makes you shiver ever so slightly, arching your body up into him. He lets out an amused huff, running his fingers through your hair.

“What do you want, lovie?” he coos, twirling your hair in his fingers.

“Everything,” you moan lightly, your fingers finding their way into his hair, pulling him close to you as your heart races.

He nods once, then tilts his head to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. He’s so gentle with you, methodical and patient in a way you’ve never experienced or expected from someone like him.

“‘M gonna take my time with you,” he says gently, searching your eyes. “Tell me, please, tell me if it’s ever too much at any point.”

You cup his face with your hands. He flicks away a stray flower petal that fell into your hair.

“I trust you,” you smile at him, stroking a thumb along his cheek.

With that, he slowly makes his way down to your legs, hands pressing into your ankles as he starts to lift your legs over his shoulders. He starts to bunch up the skirt of your dress, pulling it up ever so slightly to give him access to your dripping core.

“Wait, won’t someone—”

“No one will see, I promise,” he says firmly, giving you a reassuring squeeze before delving under the skirt of your dress. “Besides, there's no one around here for miles,” he chuckles under your skirt.

The anticipation nearly kills you as you feel his hot breath on the insides of your thighs, your pussy throbbing for pleasure. He peppers light kisses on the insides of your thighs, calloused hands gripping onto your supple skin with purpose. One of his hands cups your clothed sex, a finger tracing the thin cotton of your panties. You’re so wet already, and he had only kissed you.

“S’ wet already,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

You gasp, hands reaching out to your sides in the earth as he slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulls your panties down your legs and around your ankles.

And then, as soon as he fully pulls your panties off, his mouth is on your core, licking a single stripe up your wet pussy. A light moan slips from your lips as this newfound sensation, grasping the grass and flowers around you, pulling at the flimsy stems for support. Simon starts to run his tongue in circular motions around your clit, applying pressure into it as he expertly explores your pussy. You moan louder now, more freely, as he applies pressure, thighs quivering as he sucks on you, lapping your wetness like a man starved.

You can’t take it anymore, you pull your dress off his head, raking your hands through his hair as he laps at your sweet cunt. You watch as he delves in and out, watch as his nose presses against your clit just right, his tongue pressing into your hole ever so slightly. Your back arches as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, tugging his hair as you moan. Simon flits his eyes to you, still lapping at your pussy with an eagerness as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. That cheeky bastard.

“Si,” you whimper, a plea for a moment to take in what you were feeling. You make another sound, a mix between his name and a moan, all high pitched and breathless, and he groans, his pants feeling extra tight and restricting. He exchanges a groan into your core as he holds you tighter.

“Taste s’ good f’me,” he grunts against you, “such a beautiful girl."

His groans are muted but dripping with desire against your wet cunt, pulling and sucking your clit into his mouth. You writhe under him, moans freely slipping from your lips, pressing your core up against his face as you arch your back into him. You can feel him salivating against you, worshiping you like a man starved, like you were the most precious thing in the world. You are to him, though. You’re everything and more to him.

The coil deep within you starts to build towards a climax, your muscles tightening as he works on relaxing you, on helping you reach the pleasure that you so highly deserved.

“Let go,” he says against your clit, squeezing your thighs in encouragement. The huskiness of his voice, the way his tongue expertly explores your core is enough for the coil in your abdomen to unravel, and you cum on his tongue. You moan breathlessly, muttering his name, chest heaving as you let go.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he breathes as he pulls away, licking your dripping wetness from his lips. “Perfect, beautiful girl.”

You keen at his praises, tugging at his hair harder as he lifts up from your core. His cheeks are flushed, lips swollen. You’re panting, heart racing, staring up into the sky, blissed out from your first orgasm. You whimper as you watch him lick his lips, and you reach your hands out for him to come to you. He immediately obeys, and as he hovers over you, you can see how his cock is straining against his pants. You push yourself up onto your elbows, eyeing his bulge for a moment before he kisses you, hard and deep. He shoves his tongue in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“So good,” you say in between kisses. Your hands dragging up to the collar of his shirt. You start to paw on it, wanting him to take it off.

“Take this off, please,” you beg, fingers sloppily moving to the buttons of his shirt.

The way you say please so prettily, he’ll do anything for you. Anything.

He doesn’t wait to unbutton each of the buttons of his shirt, so he rips the shirt off, popping the buttons off as he rips the shirt off.

“Ohhh-kay,” you whisper, taking in his bare chest. This wasn’t like when he fell into the lake, no, no, this was better. You run your hands over scars littered across his coarse skin, feeling him shudder under the touch of your soft hands. He lets you just, touch him, feel him. It’s quite nice, honestly, he thinks. He studies your face, your eyes growing wide as you run your hands across his chest and up to his broad shoulders, and squeeze them tightly.

Absent-mindedly, Simon reaches up by the side of your head, plucking a rather large wildflower from the ground. Slowly, he slips the flower behind your ear, pushing away stray strands of hair from your face.

“So beautiful, darling,” he sighs contentedly, his voice confident and full of pure affection.

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to fade away. A warm blush creeps onto your cheeks as you smile at Simon, your heart fluttering in your chest. His touch is gentle, and his actions speak of a tenderness that leaves you breathless. You find yourself lost in his deep, brown eyes.

“I’m yours, Si,” you murmur, as you start to slip the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders. “All yours.”

He watches, entranced, as you pull your sleeves down lower and lower, and immediately he reaches up to help you. He takes the fabric of your gown into his hands, and he shimmies it up and off your frame, casting it to the side.

His breath is caught in his throat as he takes in your naked form, eyes unabashedly raking down your body. You swallow the lump in your throat, the nervousness once taking a hold of you dissipating as he looks at you with nothing but adoration and devotion. His hands trace down your shoulders to your breasts, an animalistic desire to take you then and there strong. But no, no, he was going to take his time, be gentle, focus solely on you.

“You really don’t understand what you do to me,” he says, kneading the pillowy flesh of your breasts in his hands, tweaking your nipple, pulling a string of light moans from you.

He lowers his head down, latching onto your nipple with a contended hum. His hand grazes from your side, past your thigh, and down to your dripping core. His fingers tease your clit, and you gasp with a jolt. He chuckles against your breast, mouth moving to your other. His finger traces down from your clit to your entrance, and just before he pushes a finger in, you gasp out.

“I– I’ve never—”

He raises his head immediately, looking at your flushed face. You bite your lip, eyes looking away with embarrassment. Simon’s face morphs into a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Shh, shh, I understand. Let me take care of you, darling,” he coos, stroking your skin. “Relax f’me.”

With a breath, you nod your head, and try your best to relax your muscles, breathing in and out steadily. You stare up into the sky for a moment, grounding yourself, watching passing clouds casting shadows all around.

He agonizingly slowly plunges a single finger inside you, stilling for a moment as he feels you adjust. You shudder for a moment, your mouth open slightly as you take in his thick digit.

“Good, good girl,” he encourages, slowly pumping his finger inside you. Your back arches involuntarily, your hand sweeping in the flowers, plucking some out of the ground from your grip.

Simon grabs your hand with his free hand, allowing you to squeeze it as he works his way into you with a second finger. He starts curling his fingers inside you, reaching places you never knew existed. You let out breathy moans, gripping his hand as he picks up the pace, fucking you with his fingers.

“So perfect,” he mutters, pressing his thumb into the thumb of your hand, massaging it slightly.

“Simon, feels good,” you manage to spit out, your eyes fluttering closed as you just feel. Your wetness is gushing around his fingers.

“That’s it, lovie,” he encourages, voice sickeningly sweet. “Just one more.”

He plunges a third finger in, and you have to hold yourself back from screaming.

“My perfect girl,” he praises as you take in his third finger, now reaching deep inside you. A deep set moan releases from your throat as you take in three of his fingers, wincing just a bit from the large adjustment, but feeling pleasure nonetheless. Simon remains the embodiment of thoughtfulness and care, taking you in as you are, knowing that he has the privilege of being intimate with you. The way he stares at you in amazement, in awe, in affection has something growing even deeper within him. He loves the way he can make you come undone, the way he’s the only one who is allowed to see this side of you, the way he’s the only you trust fully and completely like this.

And with that, he can’t hold back anymore. He kisses you deeply, his fingers working in you slowly, methodically.

“Simon, please,” you beg, panting between kisses, your core aching for more than just his fingers, “need you.” Your clit is throbbing as he presses into it, building up another orgasm. The way your fingers flutter around his fingers makes his cock jump, suddenly painfully aware of how badly he wants to be inside you right now.

“I know, darling,” he soothes, yanking his pants down, his aching cock springing free from the confines of the fabric. You start to feel your muscles pulling, your wetness building up as his fingers hit a spot inside you, beckoning you to cum.

“Cum on my fingers,” he grunts, the pressure of your velvety cunt around his fingers making him move faster, reach deeper. You swallow heavily, your hips bucking into his hand a few times before cumming, soaking his fingers.

“I need you, Si,” you’re practically crying, pawing at his chest for more. Your clit is throbbing, cunt aching for his cock.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says again, sucking your slick off his fingers with a satisfied hum. You watch him, mouth agape.

“Please,” you groan again, wrapping your legs around his waist, beckoning him towards you.

In a rush, he’s checking you over, making sure you’re comfortable in the plush grass before lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance.

Slowly, he pushes the tip inside you, letting you adjust to the size of his cock for a moment. Your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head as he barely pushes his way inside you, but this feels better than his fingers. Much better. The stretch wasn’t without some pain, but you bear with it, gripping onto him as he starts to push himself inside you further.

“I know, I know, you’re nearly there, sweetheart,” he coos into your ear, his deep voice rattling your eardrums.

He lets out his own moan, feeling the way your pussy squeezes him just right. Your back arches at the sensation, a gargled moan slipping from your lips, encouraging him to slide the full length of his cock into you.

“F– fuck, lovie,” he moans, his voice high-pitched and husky. “So perfect—”

He finally bottoms out, hips meeting yours as you both pant, the stretch feeling so fucking good. He stills for a moment, relishing the way you squeeze and flutter around him, relishing the way your face is contorted into nothing but pleasure.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hands reaching to his shoulders as he hovers over you.

He grunts and thrusts himself into you as deep as he can. And it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. You can barely breathe as he sets a pace, slow yet not teasing. He works his way into you with a reigned fervor, his hands gripping onto you like you could break into a million pieces. You feel like you’re floating on air, your back arching, pressing into him as he pumps inside of you. Your eyes are half-lidded, your vision being taken up entirely by Simon. His eyes meet yours and for a moment, you swear he falters. He’s taken with you entirely, your eyes on him is all he needs to be happy in this world, he decides.

He hisses as you drag your fingernails down his back, holding onto him as he starts to move faster, harder.

“My beautiful, perfect wife,” he grunts, rocking into you. He beckons you to wrap your legs around his waist, yanking you closer to him.

“So soft, so soft,” he groans, lips meeting your neck in an open mouthed, sloppy kiss. “S’ happy you’re my wife.”

Your face flushes at his words, too flattered by his words to say anything. Pure bliss courses through you as he praises you, fucking into you like a man starved. He hits a region deep inside you, and you moan abruptly.

“That’s it,” he groans, his own eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head as he watches you intently. A coil builds faster by the second, your stomach muscles clenching.

“Si—” you manage to moan, your hands moving up from his back to cup his face.

Tears blur your vision as you stroke his cheek, and he almost stops thrusting in you at the sweet action. In a flash, he’s moving faster, the colors of the flowers around your body becoming a blur as his vision narrows in on you, you, you.

His hands slide down to grip your waist, his hold on you tightening. Your hands move to clasp around his neck, pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck, your movements sloppy as he fucks you so nicely, so perfectly. He has to will himself to stay upright on top of you, wanting to pass out from how fucking beautiful you look, how fucking perfect you are to him.

“You’re so fucking perfect, my perfect wife,” he moans, trying to express just how much he fucking loves this, how much he holds you in high regard.

“I love you,” you blurt out, yanking him down on you. And then he’s pulling all the way out, just to slam into you again, and he can’t even find the proper words to respond, just absolutely fucking you into the flowers.

“I love you,” he strangles out, bucking his hips helplessly into yours, and you press a kiss on his shoulder. “I love you, I love you,” he groans, letting you pull his face towards yours as you give him a deep, sloppy kiss.

“I’ve loved you–” you try to say, your mind foggy as you leave open mouthed kisses along his face and neck, going down to his collarbone as he ruts into you. Simon mewls, his head dropping to your neck as you work on his skin. The coil within you is about to snap, your wetness coating his cock perfectly.

“Let go,” he says, pumping into you deeply, hitting a point that his fingers couldn’t even reach. “Let go, sweetheart.”

With that, you let out a garbled moan as you cum on his cock, clenching your eyes shut as you ride out your orgasm, the world fading away as if it's just you and him. His cock twitches inside of you as your walls flutter around him, his cock pulsating and throbbing, pent up from fucking into you. He breathes heavily, cumming into you with no remorse. God, you think you see stars as you feel him fill you up, moaning lightly as he slows to a stop. Simon is hovering over you, his hands planted on both sides of your face.

“I love you,” you say again, wrapping your arms around his neck, prompting him to lay on top of you. He stares at you, mouth agape, blinking slowly.

“I thought I dreamt you saying that,” Simon says quietly, before letting himself drop on top of you. You grunt as he lets his full body weight rest on top of you, but you didn’t mind. It felt good. Felt so good having your husband laying on you like this, after the most intimate moment you’ve ever shared with him up until this point.

He turns his face to press a kiss to your cheek. He picks more flowers from the side, stuffing them behind your ear, pushing stray hair out of your face so he can see you clearly.

“I meant what I said,” you whisper, voice hoarse. You brush some stray grass out of Simon’s hair as he goes to lay his head down in your neck.

“I know you did,” he whispers back, inhaling your scent.

“I love you, too,” he says, leaving a gentle kiss on your pulse.

. . .

After laying together for a little longer, he begrudgingly gets up to slide his pants back on. He goes over to your dress and undergarments, again, begrudgingly helping you get dressed again. You blush as he slides your panties back on your legs, breath seizing in his throat. When he finally pulls up the sleeves of your dress, you take his hand in yours.

“Si, I honestly don’t think I can ride my horse back home,” you blush, securing the flowers behind your ear.

“Ah,” he nods, looking down at you with a small smirk. “Of course.”

Suddenly, he scoops you into his arms, carrying you as though you weigh nothing. You let out a small yelp, fastening your arms around his neck securely as he makes his way over to the horses, both grazing on some grass a while away.

As he approaches his horse, he sets you down for just a moment, reigning in your mare. With a lead, he attaches your mare to his horse. You watch him for a moment before he’s back on you, lifting you up so you can sit side saddle on his horse. With a grunt, he swings on behind you, gripping your waist so you can sit steady.

“Thank you,” you smile, leaning your cheek on his chest.

“Anything for you,” he says, motioning the horses to go home.

You didn’t notice the bouquet of flowers he had shoved in his back pocket.

A souvenir to remember this day by.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#FINALLY #tooth rotting sweetness exudes from this smut #blushing so hard #cheesin so big #i'm screaming at my own fic #i'm so lonely #i'm going insane #i'm eating drywall #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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hellcheerficdatabase · 1 year

Text

Drowning In His Chocolate Eyes

Author: Simp4KlausBaudelaire

Rating/Warning: General

Chapter Count: 2/2

Description:

Chrissy gets high and confesses her feelings to Eddie

a.k.a.

Super sweet, fluffy Hellcheer

Tags: Alternate Universe- no vecna, fluff, tooth rotting, I swear, high Chrissy, Eddie is a sweetheart, Chrissy is a sweetheart, mutual pining, drugged honesty, flustered Eddie, Chrissy POV, two-shot, Status: Completed

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c0smoshit · 8 months

Note

omg since requests are open.. can i request a cloud x reader with like.. shy kisses? 🫣 IABSKSN LIKE either one of them gives the other a shy kiss and how would the other respond (if that makes sense)

AaaAAAAAHH omg this idea is so cute and It also fits Cloud so good

Thanks for the request!! <33

Shy kisses ミ★

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Cloud Strife/Reader

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ do not read this if you don't like tooth-rotting fluff, kisses, cheek kisses, yeah that's it, not proofread

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ Cloud giving shy kisses it's so him and this really fits him so good. I seriously need to give him kisses until he forgets about that white haired man.

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 3.470

He had heard Aerith talking about her misterious partner, how they shared everything; hugs, clothes and even... kisses.

He was a busy man, he had a goal and he was going to accomplish it. He didn't have time for things like that.

But then you stepped into his life with steps full of grace and energy, your personality almost overshadowing his cold and quiet one, talking when he didn't know what to say or dealing with people he knew he would scare off.

He never would tell you this but he was so grateful you did the talking for him because, no matter how hard he tried to be the leader, you did a better job. He paid you off by taking down some enemies anyways.

Something about Aerith's happiness when she was talking about her love experiences made him curious about the whole thing.

What would a kiss feel like?

Would it be so electrifying that time would stop like she had described? Maybe it was a cute and gentle gesture, maybe it was full of passion.

He was lost.

What would a real hug feel like?

He had hugged people before (well, they had hugged him) but it didn't felt right. She said that the first time she had hugged her lover, she felt... what did she call them?

Butterflies.

How could anyone feel those winged insects inside of their stomach? It really amazed him how she explained those kind of feelings. It felt like an ethereal sensation, something that could only happen once.

Deep inside his stubborn mind, he wanted to feel that too.

He wanted to have someone by his side, someone he could talk to for hours without feeling embarrassed. Someone he could lay his head on their thighs while listening to whatever they were talking about.

But he'd rather die than talk about all those feelings.

"Shit"

His mouth opened before he could think, a burning ache lingered on his shoulder. A wipe soaked with alcohol deprived his mind from his daze.

Right... He was still inside his "house", but he wasn't alone, you were sitting by his side. A rushed sorry came out of your mouth, your hands gently wiping a not-so fresh cut from his shoulder.

He remembers your worried face when you both returned from the mission, how you ran towards him while asking him what happened. It really wasn't such a big deal, or so is what he thought, you were just very worried about him.

Well, maybe you were too worried about him, he didn't need someone to clean his wounds up after a long day. But his body told you a completely different story, leaning slightly into your touch and letting you handle him around.

If you had stayed for a little while with him, you'd be sure his head would be resting on your shoulder.

Meanwhile he was thinking about you, did you like him? Tifa always told him about how lucky he was, "a lot of girls like you!" She would say, earning a shrug of his shoulders in response.

He wasn't aware of how handsome he was, blonde hair, piercing mako eyes, sharp jawline, cristal skin... He was so dreamy for most girls. In fact, he thought he was an average guy, not to pretty not too ugly just, normal.

But he was clearly aware of how pretty you were. Everything about you was pretty, from your beautiful eyes and gorgerous hair to your intelligence and your mindset. He loved when you talked, he liked your voice and the way your lips moved.

How would they feel against his?

Pfft- What was he even thinking about, you probably liked another boy, not him. Besides, you were his friend and his partner at work, he figured out you didn't have time for love neither.

"Almost done"

You reassured him, placing some bandages on top of the wound. He now realised how close you two actually were, your breath trickling his neck and your knee touching his own one. What if you liked him?

He brushed off those thoughts, trying to keep his cool, your delicate touch whispering sweetly into his ear not to.

He took quick glances to your concentrated face, careful not to keep much eye contact with you. He didn't want to be weird around you, not when you were treatting him so well. His eyes drawed themselves down to your lips. He remembers the little peck you gave his cheek some months ago, he still feels the warmth of them lingering on it.

"Cloud!"

His head perked up as he searched your face, he was holding a rag in his hands that was full of soap. His other hand held a cup gently, not wanting it to slip off.

He heard the sound of the door closing, two pairs of boots and shoes entering Seventh Heaven. He was backwards, cleaning the dishes like you had asked him to while you were out. He didn't like taking off his gloves and soaking up his hands, but he would do it for you.

You told him about how Tifa wanted you to clean the dishes before you and Barret went to do some chores outside. He knew you weren't just begging him to do them just so you wouldn't soak your hands. You were in a hurry, it was clear and he didn't have to do anything that morning so when you begged for him to do them, he complied without any regrets.

He had to remind himself that he wasn't doing this for AVALANCHE, he was doing this for you. Those weren't some extra hours at work, you had nicely asked him to do it. It wasn't a big deal anyways.

Then he heard you walking towards him, the characteristic clank of your shoes coming closer and closer to him. Barret was there too, but he walked around for a bit before sitting down in a chair.

"Thank you so much"

Your words slided into his pierced ears, he didn't need to look at your face to tell that you had a big smile plastered on your face. And when you placed your hand on his unarmed shoulder he tensed up a bit, his hands stopped rubbing the sponge over the crockery.

He felt your chest pressed against his arm before something soft tickled his cheek. Although it was just a cute little gesture, he melted on spot, mouth slightly agape as his hand instinctively touched the affected area.

His brows were furrowed slightly as he looked at you, hearing your soft giggles when he retrieved his hand, leaving some soap on his face.

Although it wasn't as if you had kissed him on the lips with your arms wrapped around him, it still felt that intimate.

He spent the rest of the day touching his cheek, surprised to have recieved such a gesture from you. He also recalls how Barret shouted "Get a room ya' two", making his embarrassement grow even more.

Aerith also talked about how happy and relaxed she was in the arms of her lover, cuddling with him until the sun went down. She talked about how that relieved all the pent up emotions and stress she had inside of her "kissing him felt almost like touching heaven"

Did it really feel that good?

God he wanted to know, he needed to feel all the things Aerith was talking about. But he couldn't, he didn't have a partner or a really good friend to cuddle with ( or maybe he did but wasn't fucking aware )

But those feelings rested deep inside him, the agravating man with white hair floated on top of them. He needed to get rid of Shinra and the people who had harmed the planet.

"Is it too tight?"

Your voice spoke again, soft as ever. He shook his head lightly, silently telling you that he was alright. His back hit the sofa, sitting with his legs slightly apart while he saw you mimicking his actions.

He should be tired after what had happened today, but something about your company kept him awake.

The appartment had a sad aura enveloping it, maybe it was the fact that it was almost empty. But he didn't care, as long as he had a warm bed and a bathroom he was alright with it. He didn't think he was going to rest there for a while either.

The afternoon beams hit the floor through the window, creating an cozy orange glow, your eyes lingered there for a while, enjoying the pleasant lighting.

Midgar didn't stick out by it's nature or it's beauty, in fact, it was a pretty depressing place with all the pollution and dark lighting. But despite all that, you enjoyed how the sun striked the city by the time afternoon came.

Small details like this often caught his attention, meanwhile he hated how sad this city was because of the Shinra you managed to adore the smallest things. Well, maybe it was because you didn't have other option, you were stuck here with the group just like him.

"Thank you"

Your eyes looked at him, but he was facing the wall in front of you with his arms resting on his thighs. He looked calm, a sight you almost never got to see because of his constant fighting and working to take down Shinra.

You were happy to see him like that, so you told him that it was okay, you were here to help him. He liked the idea of that, having someone by his side when he needed them the most, someone to clean up his wounds, to look after him.

He was the one that did all those things most of the time, worrying about everyone's safety although he didn't say it, he did it. But he didn't want everyone's help, it would be just too much, he wanted you.

Your shoulders were mere inches apart, his breathing slowed down. You were sitting with both of your backs resting against the sofa, the med-kit you used placed next to you. Your clothes were a bit dirtied up thanks to the task the group had to do, you couldn't wait to feel the refreshing water trickling down your skin. You adored showers, you liked them even more after a long tiring day.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Your voice caught him by surprise, he turned his head to see that you were already looking at him.

"Yeah, been through worse"

And it was true, but he always picked his limp body up and fought with all his strenght. He really was a strong and admirable guy, no matter how hard he had fallen he was standing again before the blink of an eye.

He also was really stubborn so he would do anything and everything to pursue his goal, it didn't matter if he ended up worse than he was before and he surely didn't give two shits about what other people told him he should do.

He had a strong mindset, followed by his evident trauma.

He liked your company, you weren't as loud and active as Barret was so he liked it. His mind went back to Aerith, Tifa listened to her and they both daydreamed about her experiences.

"Do you think someone likes me?"

Tifa smiled from her standing position behind the bar top, she had her arms akimbo as she looked at you and Aerith. Both of them looked at eachother and laughed quietly making you furrow your brows.

"What's so funny?"

They glanced at eachother with sly smirks before looking at you.

"You're really oblivious, y/n"

You sent Aerith a confused look, what were they talking about? Did someone actually liked you?

"Wait, what?"

"Oh come on, don't you see how he looks at you?"

To be fair, no you didn't, It could be anyone. Your mind was soon flooded with questions about that misterious guy, maybe he was in your group, maybe it was some boy in Midgar.

As much as you had asked them who was that guy, they chuckled and told you that you should figure it out by yourself. But how? There were a lot of guys around here and you didn't even have a clue about how he looked like.

You had a pretty nice relationship with the girls, they often helped you pick out clothes and Aerith often gave you flowers saying that they look good on you. They made you feel loved and happy, you liked spending time with them.

You often went out to eat with them when you all could and those were your favourite meals no matter what the actual food was. You loved hearing Aerith speak about her past and her relationship with Zack, she picked up the sweetest words and spoke with a soft tone of voice.

"Yeah let's sit over there"

Tifa said while pointing to a table next to a window that faced a sunny stone path, people walked through it, some of them were fast and anxious while others talked and enjoyed their walk.

The ambience there was calm, there weren't many customers at that hour so the whole cafe was envolved in a pleasant silence.

You walked towards the table with a cup filled with warm tea in your hand and some chocolate chip cookies on the other. The aroma made your mouth water, and judging by the looks of your friends they were drooling too. You all had learnt to adore this place, it was small, cozy and they had the best confectionery.

Great for spilling some tea too.

You talked with them for a while about what was happening in Midgar and all the Shinra stuff. Honestly, you were so tired of them, you wished they could just dissapear and leave you alone with your friends. But they didn't, they just reinforced their security after some of your attacks.

You wished you could spend more time with the girls, with Barret, with Cloud.

God you would kill to just talk with him more often, the sound of his voice, how he talked with you. He amazed you, all the stuff Tifa had told you without him knowing increased your curiosity about him. He didn't share too much about his personal life, you wanted to ask him so many questions but he didn't talked too much either so you were kind of shy to talk with him about him.

"How was your first kiss like?"

Aerith's cheeks reddened at the question Tifa had just asked her, but there was a small smile plastered on her face too.

"Well... I didn't kiss him actually, It just kind of happened"

She paused, taking a sip of her own tea as you took a bite from the cookie you had picked up before.

"Our faces got closer and closer until his lips were pressed against mine, it was such a beautiful moment"

"He must've been a great guy"

You replied, breaking the small silence that was formed after what Aerith had said. Tifa nodded her head and the brunette closed her eyes with sigh before looking at you again.

"He was... He was my first love after all"

Another sip was taken from the cup placed on her hands.

"I miss him"

Tifa reassured her, telling her that there were a lot of good guys out there waiting for her. Meanwhile you stared dreamingly into the window, your mouth opening before you could even think about what you were saying.

"I wonder how my first kiss will be like"

You smiled at that memory, you all spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and daydreaming about relationships. Your head leaning against the black haired girl's shoulder as you talked with her about all the love stories you had heard.

"Thank you for everything again y/n"

Your head perked up until you met his side profile, you opened your mouth to speak, fisting your hands and placing them on top of your thighs.

"Don't worry about it, like I told you, I'm here for you"

Your sweet smile ignited something inside of him, it felt ticklish like some sort of fluttering in his belly. Were they... butterflies?

He nodded his head as he stared at you, you looked really pretty with the sun light hitting your face. He wondered if you found him pretty too.

"I'm glad you're fine, don't scare me like that again"

He chuckled as he looked at the floor. He lifted his back off it's resting position on the couch before speaking up again.

"I'll not"

He kept his responses simple as always, he wasn't a talkative one after all. Silence fell over the room, you repositioned yourself too, your hands falling down to rest next to your legs. He looked so good under the orange hues of the descending sun, hell, he always looked good.

"I think I'm gonn-"

Your words were cut off as soon as his lips made contact with your cheek. You quickly looked at him red faced, touching your cheek with wide eyes.

Did... Did Cloud Strife just peck your cheek?

Your mouth opened but no words came out of it, you were going to explode right there. You absolutely didn't expect him to return your cute gesture and make it even cuter. He smirked, his cheeks also getting a bit hot but he shrugged it off.

"What? I'm just doing what yo-"

You didn't know were your sudden move came from but it did. Your hands snatched themselves into his cheekbones, pulling his head towards you before crashing your lips against his.

The kiss was soft but quick, his slightly chapped lips on top of yours. It was really happening, finally you knew what it felt like, finally you both knew. It didn't last long though, you pulled off him saying all kinds of sorry.

"I shouldn't have, god- sorry"

He didn't answer you, instead he shifted himself closer to you on the sofa. He wasn't usually this affective with anyone, anyone but you. He had fallen head over heals for you, he tried to keep those thoughts away but you were just too much for him, too pretty, too good.

He placed his cold hand just bellow your neck and on top of your collarbone, the touch sending shivers up your spine. And before you could look into his eyes, he closed the gap again.

This time the kiss was slower and sweeter, your mouth moved with his as you trailed your hands up until they rested on his shoulders.

You wished time could stop so you could spend an eternity like this with him.

It felt just like Aerith had described... magical. Although it was clear he didn't have any experience in kissing anyone, his lips moving clumsily against yours and forcing a small smile from you, it felt really good.

His hands soon wrapped around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. You melted on spot, the quiet and angry guy that mostly talked shit about how everything was fucked up was kissing you with that mouth so gently.

You both parted from each other to breathe, the biggest and happiest smile plastered on your face as you leaned your forehead with his. You hugged tightly his shoulders, afraid to let go of him and he did too, squeezing your waist even closer to him.

You opted to just stay silent and enjoy the moment, the sky already darkening outside and the people starting to go home from work.

This was really a pleasant sight because this night, you weren't lonely.

Like two magnets would attract each other, you kissed him again, his lips becoming your new source of drug. You could never get tired of kissing him, feeling his lips on top of yours.

Like Aerith said, it kind of just happened and you couldn't be happier for this moment to be like that. Your breathing calmed itself down, enjoying the sound of his own heartbeat slowing down too.

When the kiss ended again you hid your face against his neck, hugging him. His strong arms kept you in place, his head resting on top of yours.

You stayed there for a while, a long while of laughing and kissing each other's faces until the moonlight replaced the sun on his window. You had lost track of time, but you didn't care as long as you were in his arms.

You soon found yourself at his door, ready to leave his house. He followed you, opening the door for you like he had done before, but this time you were leaving.

"So... see you tomorrow"

"Yeah, good night"

A few more words were exchanged before his lips found yours again, kissing you softly on the lips and giving you a last hug before you stepped out the door followed with a "be careful" from him.

He watched as you waved him goodbye through the window, keeping an eye on you. He closed the door with a quiet "thud", when he laid on the bed that night, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.

The next morning you rushed yourself into getting to Seventh Heaven, opening the door with the energy of a dog whose owner had just returned from work.

Marlene was there, drinking a cup of milk that you imagined was her breakfast. You quickly smiled at her with the biggest smile she had seen you show off for months.

Tifa was cleaning some dishes on the sink and Aerith was yawning, sitting in front of her.

You couldn't wait to tell them what had happened the night before with Cloud. And when the brunnete had seen you place your hands on the bar top with a loud sound, she wasn't able to even wish you a goodmorning before you spoke.

"Y'all aren't going to believe this"

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dewdropdinosaur · 25 days

Text

Fixer Upper

ALASTOR x (F)READER

Summary: Someone dared to break Alastor's precious radio and his wrath is inconsolable. But turns out you may have some small tricks up your sleeve.

Warnings: NONE

For the dearest @anon-of-the-void. My darling, it is a pleasure as always to write these for you.

In the bustling chaos of the Hazbin Hotel, where demons sought redemption amidst the fiery chaos of Hell, an unlikely friendship blossomed. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, found solace in the presence of Y/N, an inventive soul from the Victorian Era who had found herself amidst the peculiar denizens of the underworld.

Y/N was a tinkerer, always tinkering away in her workshop, concocting gadgets and gizmos that would make even the most adept engineers marvel. Alastor, with his vintage charm and macabre wit, found her creations fascinating, and the two formed an unusual bond over their shared love for innovation.

One fateful day, disaster struck when Alastor's beloved old-time radio, his prized possession from his living days, broke down. The demon was devastated, his usual jovial demeanor clouded by a rare display of anger. The residents of the hotel trembled in fear, knowing the havoc that could be unleashed if the Radio Demon's rage remained unchecked.

Alastor's crimson eyes blazed with fury as he prowled the halls of the Hazbin Hotel, his usual jovial smile replaced by a menacing snarl. The residents cowered in fear, whispering among themselves as they caught glimpses of the Radio Demon's wrathful form.

"You there!" Alastor's voice boomed, sending shivers down the spines of those unfortunate enough to cross his path. "Do you have any idea of the inconvenience of my beloved radio breaking? The nerve, the audacity!"

Niffty, the hyperactive cleaner demon, spoke with a frantic passion as she viewed the mangled radio."Alastor! I'll do it! Let me clean it please!"

Alastor's laughter rang out like a chilling melody, sending a chill through the air. "Oh, my dear Nifty, no thank you. This requires some…interrogation but feel free to clean up the aftermath."

Angel Dust, lounging lazily on a nearby couch, scoffed, "Oh, lighten up, Al, it's just a stupid radio. Besides, it's not like anyone listens to your old-timey tunes anyway."

The room fell silent as Alastor's gaze bore into Angel Dust, his smile twisting into a sinister grin. "Is that so, my dear Angel? Perhaps I should demonstrate the consequences of underestimating the power of music."

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor summoned a spectral microphone, its ethereal glow casting eerie shadows across the room. "Now, let's see who's laughing when I unleash the full force of my wrath upon this wretched offender!"

The residents of the Hazbin Hotel trembled as Alastor's menacing laughter echoed through the halls, knowing all too well that when the Radio Demon was in a foul mood, no one was safe from his terrifying fury.

As fear spread throughout the hotel, Y/N knew she had to act swiftly to quell the storm brewing within Alastor's heart. Ignoring the warnings of her peers, she clandestinely snatched the broken radio and retreated to her workshop, determined to restore it to its former glory.Under the cover of night, she stealthily crept into Alastor's room, her pockets filled with tools and determination. With deft hands, she dismantled the broken radio, each cog and wire familiar to her skilled touch.

Hour after hour, Y/N toiled away, her nimble fingers dancing across the delicate machinery. With each adjustment and tweak, the radio gradually came back to life, its familiar crackle filling the air once more. But as the night wore on, fatigue gnawed at Y/N's bones, her eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. But she pressed on, fueled by determination and a desire to see her friend smile once more.

Finally, with a soft click, the radio sprang to life, emitting a crackling sound before filling the room with the familiar strains of vintage jazz. Y/N let out a sigh of relief, a triumphant smile gracing her lips as she admired her handiwork.

But as she stood there basking in her success, fatigue finally caught up with her. With a yawn, she sank into a nearby chair, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep claimed her.

Unbeknownst to her, Alastor had been silently watching from the shadows, his expression unreadable as he observed Y/N's tireless efforts to fix his broken radio. When he saw her succumb to exhaustion, a pang of concern tugged at his heart, softening the edges of his usually stoic demeanor.

Quietly, he approached her slumbering form, his footsteps barely audible against the creaking floorboards. Gently, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch light as a feather.

"My dear Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "Such devotion, such selflessness. You truly are a marvel."

A warmth blossomed in Alastor's chest as he watched her sleep, a feeling he couldn't quite put into words. For the first time in centuries, he felt something akin to tenderness stirring within him—a feeling he realized with a start was nothing short of admiration.

With a soft sigh, Alastor leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead before picking up her form and striding over to his bed; tucking her in with the utmost care. As he stood there in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the quiet hum of the fixed radio and the soft breathing of his friend, he knew at that moment that he was irrevocably touched by her kindness.

And as the first light of dawn painted the sky, Alastor silently vowed to cherish and protect Y/N, for she had not only fixed his broken radio but had also managed to mend something far more precious—his wounded heart.

The next morning dawned upon the Hazbin Hotel, the air tinged with a sense of relief as the residents basked in the knowledge that Alastor's beloved radio had been fixed. Alastor strode into the lobby with a confident swagger, his usual grin plastered on his face. With a flick of his wrist, he turned on the radio, the familiar crackle of static filling the air before giving way to the melodic strains of love songs from a bygone era.

The residents exchanged puzzled glances, their confusion evident as they listened to the unexpected playlist. Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, looks like someone's feeling a bit sentimental today."

Alastor's grin widened, though there was a hint of something softer lurking beneath the surface. "Ah, my dear Angel, music has a way of stirring the soul, don't you think?"

As the love songs continued to play, the other residents couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth wash over them. Even the gruffest demons found themselves tapping their claws to the beat, caught up in the unexpected romance of it all.

But as Alastor's gaze lingered on Y/N, who stood among the crowd with a shy smile, a wave of realization washed over him. It wasn't just any love songs he was playing—it was a silent declaration of his growing affection for the inventive soul who had captured his heart.

And as the music filled the room with its sweet melody, Alastor couldn't help but feel a surge of hope coursing through him. Perhaps, in the midst of Hell's chaos, there was still room for love to blossom—a love that transcended time and defied all odds.

With a soft chuckle, Alastor stole a glance at Y/N, his heart swelling with newfound courage. For in that moment, amidst the gentle strains of love songs and the soft glow of morning light, he knew that he was falling—falling head over heels for the one who had fixed not only his broken radio but also the shattered pieces of his soul.

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