#we should be more focused on making sure we all have some rights rather than what the 100% correct way to use a label is.

[heresvix]

sometimes i doubt my bisexuality so when that happens i just scroll through your blog and remember “oh yeah men are really hot actually”

👀🏳️‍🌈,

Hey i hope you’ll grow to feel more comfortable in your sexuality. Queerness is not a competition.

Attracted to more than one gender and you vibe with bi? You’re bi. How ””much”” or how ””little”” is irrelevant. No one arguing about the ”quality” of your attraction is worth talking to.

#also i firmly believe queer people should be allowed to try on labels as their figuring their shit out #we should be more focused on making sure we all have some rights rather than what the 100% correct way to use a label is.

[yinyuedijun]

ZERO-SUM GAME

It’s different with Aventurine. You like being his luxury hand watch. You like being his elegant knife, his liar’s dice, his pretty poker chip. You want to be his object—the object of his affections, something he can parade around just like his expensive suits and his beautiful jewellery and his ostentatious furs. Look at me, he uses them to say. Look at what I own. Look at what I own despite this code on my neck. Look at what I've won despite my eyes and my blood. (Or: Aventurine wins you in a game of poker. He decides to cash out his prize right then and there—to enjoy you on the card table, laid out among all the chips and cards.)

8.6k words of psychological issues, explicit smut, and deranged characterization. aventurine tops, reader bottoms. public sex, voyeurism from strangers, piv, oral (reader receiving), fingering with gloves on, creampie. mild dubcon but the reader is ultimately into it. afab gn reader, they are playing a fem-coded role for an espionage assignment (dress, heels, makeup). themes of objectification. discussion of slavery and sa during slavery (not explicit). dead dove do not eat, mdni.

You are in the grandest casino of Kinyoshi Moon Colony, and Aventurine is running your latest husband into life-ruining debt.

You aren’t cut up about it. If your marriage (or concubinage, rather) were genuine, you'd maybe be annoyed about the loss of capital. But as it is, this relationship is an assignment from the IPC—one of the longest and most excruciatingly boring yet. Fortunately for you, Aventurine’s presence tonight means that you've finally gathered enough intel for Diamond’s needs. It is time for the IPC to terminate your latest contract, and Aventurine is here to collect you.

Which is a little funny, given your relationship. It is strange sitting across from your boyfriend, draped over another man and thoroughly ignoring him. You’re entirely focused on fawning over your husband instead—laughing into his ear, lighting his pipe and filling his whiskey glass, and oh, Mister Li, you're so funny, you're so clever, I think you should go all in!—but Aventurine doesn't react. He only smiles at the two of you, like he isn't bothered by the sight.

This is, of course, an act: when you came home from your last marriage (assignment), he'd made sure to pleasure you so thoroughly that you forgot all about your ex-husband (mark). Aventurine did not openly admit to any kind of jealousy at the time, but you could tell he hadn't been keen on letting another man touch you. He usually isn't too keen about anyone touching any of his things, in fact. Despite appearances, he always abhors the thought of losing anything important.

But any fears he might have are concealed right now. They’re always concealed. Hidden by the expensive suit, the countless stacks of chips, the golden walls and high-vaulted ceilings of the Venetian Zhijin, Masked by his generous gifts, his easy laughter, his careless frivolity. You can see right through his gilded smile. The rest of the table cannot.

They are all intrigued when Aventurine asks, a playful lilt in his voice, “How about we make this game a little more interesting, gentleman?”

The other players at the table consider him. The other plus-ones—concubines, courtesans, gigolos, and so on—look at him with calculated expressions of cursory interest. You do so as well, but only for a moment. Your gaze quickly returns to Mister Li’s face—your husband is meant to be your true focus, after all, not the game. You are not a player at this table, but an accessory. Closer to an expensive watch than a human being.

Some business magnate from the Triangulum Galaxy leans back and raises a brow. “I'm listening,” he says. You watch a bead of sweat travel down your husband’s neck.

“How about we up the ante,” Aventurine says, his voice light, “but instead of betting more money this time, we bet our dates?”

You think, in other star systems, other worlds, such a suggestion would invite riot. But Kinyoshi Colony being what it is, and the Venetian being the establishment that it is, the other players at the table only laugh. Nearly half of them deal in the trade of human beings anyway—this is nothing novel for them.

“Well,” one of them says, “it’s not like winning more money’s gonna make a difference to any of us.” A round of chuckling. He turns to his date—some noblewoman from Jarilo-IV who seems greatly out of her depth—and says, “What do you think, love? How do you feel about being part of my wager?”

She doesn't like it. She clearly doesn't like it, and she also clearly doesn't know how to say it. Were you not on the clock, you might intervene. Maybe. As it is, though, all you can do is observe quietly. All the power in this gambit lies with Aventurine. Even when surrounded by men who manipulate the wealth of entire cities, planets, galaxies—he remains in full control.

“There’s never any shame in folding,” he says, magnanimous. Then he looks your husband in the eye, smiling conspiratorially. “But I know there are some of us who aren't afraid to take risks.”

Li laughs. “You’re right about that, Mister Aventurine.” He gives you a fond smile. And of course he does—you’re his last shot at winning back all his losses for the night. “I think you'd make a pretty little chip, don't you?”

Although Mister Li is clearly less distressed at the thought of betting you than he was at the thought of betting his company just last round, you notice, out of the corner of your eye, a muscle in Aventurine’s neck twitching. It’s very, very subtle, and he'd have never let himself do it if the table’s attention were on him, but he did it. Perhaps it was involuntary. Your mouth curls.

“Sure, darling.” You try not to sound too giddy. “I’ll be whatever you like.”

Ordinarily, you wouldn't be so happy about this farce. This is, put plainly, a stupid way to extract you from your mission. Were the cards in anyone else’s hands, your husband could win and you might be stuck with him for another several weeks, at least—assuming that you aren't discovered and killed first. Or you could go home with another man and be subjected to the kind of things that men do when they trade human beings, and you don't think the IPC would care too much if you were. You are an asset before you are a person, after all. At this table, you are closer to an expensive watch than a human being—and at the Company, you are an overpriced knife.

But to Aventurine, you're a chip in one of his games, and you don't mind that so much. Men who only know wealth will throw around their riches thoughtlessly, but men who have endured poverty will hold onto them tightly—desperately. Aventurine takes care of his luxury watches, his elegant knives, his liar’s dice. His capital. And he never loses anything. He always comes to collect. You trust him to collect you, even with this stupid plan, so you are calm as you watch the dealer shuffle the cards.

The table makes their bets. Most of the players go all-in. A couple fold, perhaps feeling some degree of concern for their partners, but it's more likely that they just have shit hands. A lot of the ones who continue playing have shit hands anyway. Your husband doesn't do too badly—a straight flush. He seems confident.

Then Aventurine lays out his cards. Ten. Joker. Queen. King. Ace.

All hearts.

You have to take a sip of your whiskey to stop yourself from laughing.

Aventurine, himself, has the grace not to look too smug about the outcome. Or maybe it's very unremarkable for him, all these winnings being pushed over to him—poker chips and human beings. Some of the other dates are clearly anxious as they move toward him (they are expected to be loyal to their husbands), and some are clearly excited (they are expected to be frivolous, hedonistic playthings). He humours them all, for a little while. Puts on the usual show as they crowd around him, charms them because it'll be good for business partnerships in case any of their husbands care even a little bit about them. You'd do the same in his shoes. But in your current ones (six-inch heels, black leather, red bottoms, luxury), all you can do is seat yourself on the card table and light up a cigarette. Waiting.

Aventurine eventually sends them all off. All I wanted was to get to know you, he says cheerfully, which is probably not a lie. After they leave, he asks the dealer to close the table and go on break. Turn a blind eye. You raise a brow when they obey him.

How interesting.

You're still enjoying your cigarette by the time he turns to you. You flash him a smile, one of the ones that you use for work. His expression doesn't change, but his thumb brushes against one of his many rings—switching off your synesthesia beacons for some privacy—and he leans back to study you. You know he's admiring you, but it could be mistaken for a leer.

“Well, well,” he says, “If it isn’t the esteemed concubine of Li Fengzhi.”

“The esteemed fifth concubine,” you correct. He hums, looking surprised.

“I thought you were the fourth. Did I misremember?”

“No, just misinformed. He took another concubine right before I arrived on Kinyoshi. He acquired a sixth just last week. Turns out he picks up paramours like they’re strays.”

“How inconvenient.”

“It made no difference to me,” you dismiss. “I’m his favourite anyway, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

“I’d have had to be blind not to notice it. You have the man wrapped around your finger.” Aventurine leans back, studying you as you smoke on your perch. “But before we continue—why don’t you come a little closer, esteemed Fifth Concubine?”

You make a face. “That title doesn’t sound as nearly as flattering in Avgin dialect as it does in Zhijinese,” you note, though you get off the table anyway. You don’t go very far, electing to seat yourself on his lap, your arms draping around his shoulders. The feathers of his jacket tickle at your bare shoulders; the satin of his gloves glide down the skin of your thighs before settling on your calves. “Since you’ve won my company for the night, though,” you sigh, “I suppose I can humour you, Mister Aventurine.”

“Lucky me.” He leans in, his breath sweeping the shell of your ear. His fragrance surrounds you, your body warming at the familiar scent of ambergris and vanilla. You realize, all of a sudden, how much you missed it. You have to stop yourself from pressing your face into his neck and melting—it would be a dead giveaway for your identity and also too revealing of your feelings. Aventurine might be endeared by it, but he might also find it disconcerting. He often needs to be tricked into intimacy.

He does enjoy being wanted though, and he can obviously tell that you want him. He pulls you closer, one of his hands giving your thigh a generous squeeze. It makes you throw your head back in a laugh, exposing the soft skin of your throat. You aren't surprised when he takes the opportunity to kiss it, his lips gentle against your pulse.

“You’re being very forward,” you tease him. “Did you miss me?”

“I’m just trying to be careful,” he defends himself between kisses, his breath warm on your skin. “We should try to conceal our mouths as much as possible. No one can intercept our synesthesia beacons, but someone could still read our lips.”

You give him a funny look. “We’re the only two speakers of Avgin in the known universe. Who could, other than ourselves, could read our—mmph…”

Aventurine has caught the rest of your sentence with his mouth. He’s hungry and wanting for you, the heat of his lips overwhelming. Your tongue is as practised as his, but you find yourself too distracted by your thrill to focus, your kiss wet and eager. Messy. Unprofessional.

You’ve never kissed any of your husbands like this. You’ve never kissed any of your other owners like this. You feel dazed when he pulls away.

You compose yourself. “So you did miss me.”

He smiles. “Guilty as charged.” A gloved hand rests on your face, satin tracing your lips. “How could I not? You’ve been away from the house for so long.”

Your eyes narrow. There’s no idiom for this in Avgin, so you flip briefly to Interastral Standard: “Pot, kettle, black. You leave home all the time.” You smack away the hand at your waist, petty. He looks amused. “And you almost always die.”

He switches out his smile for a pout. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last time.”

“You nearly got yourself blasted with atomics, so yes, I’m still mad at you.”

Now he’s frowning. “Am I going back to sleeping on the couch when you come back?”

“Yes,” you say. His deepening frown is meant to be read as a joke, but you know better. Deciding to throw him a bone, you lean in, whispering playfully into his ear: “You can still fuck me on it though.”

Aventurine hums, as if considering. His hands traverse your sides as he contemplates your suggestion. You move to straddle him, your thighs squeezed around his hips. When you grind against him, you can feel how much he wants you despite his composure, his control—his length straining in his pants, pressed against the silk covering your core.

“I don’t think I can wait long enough to fuck you on the couch,” he says, voice teasing.

“No?” You hum as his hands travel upward, feeling every inch of you. “The ship on the way home, then?”

“We don’t leave until tomorrow. Do you really think I can wait that long?”

You don't expect to feel the warmth of his hands on your chest. Your breath hitches when he starts palming your tits through your dress, neon eyes admiring the curve of them. One of his thumbs skims over the peak of your breast, and his mouth curls when your nipple hardens. “No bra? That's convenient.”

“I—” You squirm in his grip, whining. It just makes you grind against his lap more, your cunt moving against his slacks. A wave of heat runs through your lower half, and you clench around nothing. You can see people from a nearby table glancing at you, doing double takes. You can feel their lingering gazes on you, and you know Aventurine can too.

“I—are you going to”—your voice shakes as he pinches your nipple, as his other hand moves to squeeze your ass instead. Your dress is short—designed for easy access—and his fingertips easily skim the underside of its skirt. You wonder if he’s going to pull it up. You wonder if he's going to go even further than that.

But that would be an absurd thing to do in the middle of the busiest casino in the colony, which also happens to be the busiest trade hub in its star system. It would be absurd even for the two of you. Nevermind the reactions of the other players in the room—the staff here would immediately blacklist you, and so would every other gambling house in Kinyoshi.

You try to calm yourself. “Are you—ah—going to take me upstairs?”

He's fully kneading your breasts now. You can feel your clit throbbing, your body responding to his rough and unrepentant touch. “Hm… I don't think I want to.” Aventurine’s voice drops. His smile takes on a distinctly wicked quality. “I think I'll take you right here.”

“But we’ll get kicked out,” you whine. Even as you protest though, you're panting and moving your hips now. Grabbing at his arms, rutting against him like you're in heat. His fingers hook around the thin straps of your dress, pull them down your shoulders, already starting to indulge despite your reservations. You bend into his touch.

“Kicked out? By who? The staff?” He smiles, as always. “I own the place now. I don't think they'll be giving me trouble.”

“Y—you what?” For a moment, you're too shocked to keep up the wanton show. “You do? Since when?”

“Since last night.” He thumbs one of the straps that's fallen halfway down your arms. The rest of your dress threatens to come down with it. “Technically it's the IPC who acquired it—or, well, their shell company did—but I'm their designated representative here. I signed the contract.”

“The IPC isn’t going to be upset that you're fucking a concubine, who's not even your concubine, on their new property?”

Aventurine shrugs. “They know the kind of establishment the Venetian is. People gamble with humans here all the time, you know, so this has definitely happened before. The IPC definitely expects it to happen again. And besides”—he returns his attention to your dress, starting to slip the fabric down your shoulders—“I'm just cashing out my winnings. I'm sure they wouldn't deny a gambler his vices. That'd be bad business.”

You want to say more, but then he tugs, suddenly exposing you. You’re bare in front of him—in front of everyone. You can feel eyes on you. Heat curls in your gut as he grabs your tits again, his satin gloves smooth across your skin, and your nipples pebble beneath them. “Hm… much better.”

“But…” You bite your lip, glancing around. There are so many people watching now—so many voyeurs, who've forgotten about their games and their slots. Though there are a greater number of people who are continuing as usual, studying their hands, smoking their cigarettes, unperturbed. All regulars and VIPs, you know from your intelligence.

Aventurine pauses as you catalogue the room, raising a brow. Probably he's surprised at your sudden modesty; you usually have none when his touch is involved.

“Of course,” he adds, “if you'd rather enjoy the suite upstairs…”

“No—I don’t mind staying down here… it's just that I’ve never…”

Your voice trails off. Your eyes traverse the space again. There are people who’ve fully thrown their cards down, greedily drinking in the sight of you instead. Even some of the dealers are watching between hands, glancing at you instead of watching for cheaters. Like this is public entertainment, like you're a show.

Aventurine tilts his head.

“You've never had sex with an audience?” he guesses. He sounds surprised—perplexed. You don't know why. You know he knows it's a stupid question. You know he knows the answer.

You had sex in front of people all the time before you met him. You did it for the exact reasons that he’s almost certainly done the same. To this table of business magnates, you are closer to an expensive watch than a human being; to the IPC, you are more like an overpriced knife; to this gambling hall, you're an interesting sideshow.

To your captors who fucked you in public, you guess you were something like a toy.

The thought sitting in your mouth is this: you've never had sex with an audience and enjoyed it. It was painful—not painful for the heart or the mind or anything else sentimental, but painful like it felt you were a fish being gutted open by a knife. And even beyond that physical pain, you simply didn't enjoy being passed around. You didn't like being owned by those people. You didn't like being an object for their entertainment, a spectacle to be consumed.

But it's different with Aventurine. You like being his luxury hand watch. You like being his elegant knife, his liar’s dice, his pretty poker chip. You like being his plaything, spread for his viewing whenever he wants. You want to be his object—the object of his affections, something he can parade around just like his expensive suits and his beautiful jewellery and his ostentatious furs. Look at me, he uses them to say. Look at what I own. Look at what I own despite this commodity code on my neck. Look at what I've won despite my eyes and my blood.

You want him to own you too. You want him to show everyone that he won you, that he bought you, that you're his possession now. That he, and he alone, is free to treat you like a toy.

You're getting wetter just thinking about it.

“Nevermind,” you whisper. “Let's do it.”

His smile widens ever so slightly. Slyer than usual.

“Good,” he says. He guides you into standing. “Let’s get you settled then.”

You're seated back on the card table. The cigarette is forgotten in the ashtray next to you. Aventurine takes the time to straighten out your dress, lifting the straps back up and affording you some modesty—before he gently lays you out.

You look up at him as you're spread in front of him, laid out next to his royal flush and winnings. Like you're another chip in his stacks, the most expensive one. He puts a hand beneath your leg, drapes it over his shoulder. He takes the opportunity to kiss your calf, his lips delicate.

You glance at the tables around you. You watch the business owners and politicians as they watch Aventurine. You watch them as they watch your boyfriend pepper kisses up your leg, unless he's settling in between them. Your thighs spread easily for him, and you don't resist as he hikes up your skirt.

Then he frowns.

“I’ve never seen these panties before.”

“They’re new,” you relay.

“From your husband?”

“Yup.”

“I see.”

You can't see his face, but he sounds distinctly displeased. You expect him to complain, to say they're not expensive enough or not designer enough or just plain ugly.

You don't expect him to tear them right off.

“Aventurine?!”

You're so surprised you sit up, just in time to see him throw tatters of silk to the floor.

“What?” He looks up at you, expression unbothered, almost mild. “It wasn't your colour.”

Your mouth opens. “But it was still very nice!”

“I'll buy you nicer ones later. I’ll buy you a whole drawer of nicer ones later, when we’re done here.”

He looks down again, humming. Your cheeks flush as he spreads your legs again, baring your glistening sex to him—this time completely bare. Satin glides along the inside of your thighs, and your breath hitches when he reaches their apex. You feel the light touch of a finger along your opening, and you feel your body responding, tightening around nothing.

“Tell me,” he says, “What else did your husband do with you?”

His voice is casual, almost disinterested, but you know Aventurine is listening carefully.

“Not much,” you answer truthfully. “I haven't cum in months, you know.”

“Oh?” He sounds surprised. “You don't have sex with him?”

“No. He's fucked me a lot. It”—you whimper, pausing when you feel his fingers spreading you open, fluttering hole and swollen clit exposed to him—“it just wasn't very good.”

“Then”—you feel a thumb press against your clit, and you swallow—“he never touched you here?”

“N-no.”

“Stupid of him.” He’s drawing slow, lazy circles into the bud now, making you squirm on the table. You press yourself eagerly toward his familiar touch, having desperately missed it for months. Aventurine, perhaps sensing your neediness, asks, “And you didn't touch yourself?”

“He didn't let me,” you whine, and now he's frowning at you.

“I knew I should have gotten you out of there sooner,” he says, and you have to bite back a laugh. Aventurine’s mouth curls at the sound, and he leans in to place a kiss on your thigh. “But that’s fine. I'll make it up to you now.”

Aventurine kisses are soft and precise. They pepper a path up your thigh while his fingers continue to play lazily with your clit. You want—need—to feel something inside you, but he doesn't oblige. His fingers merely run along your entrance, teasing your dripping pussy with luxury satin, and that's all they do, even as your hips buck needily toward him.

He pauses for just a moment. When you look at him, you see him staring at you—at the brand on your inner thigh, the commodity code that your captors left on you, branding you as a product to be used and sold.

His voice is almost soft when he asks, “And what did your husband say when he saw this?”

“He never did,” you reply. “He always fucked me from behind. And he never went down on me.” You pause, thinking about the way he spoke of his business. Of his trade partners. Of what your captors had done to your home when you told him about it, feigning intimacy only to be matched in cruelty. You think about the way he fucked you, how it felt to be gutted open on his expensive, silk sheets.

None of it matters to you, really. This is behaviour that you’ve long accepted, that your body always anticipates. But you always like to offer Aventurine intimacy, whether real or feigned, whether he returns it equally or responds with undeserved cruelty: “I think it wouldn't have bothered him if he had noticed it.”

You can't see Aventurine’s eyes, but you can feel his reaction when he places a chaste kiss on your product code.

“I should have gotten you out of there sooner,” he repeats. Then he pauses. “Maybe I shouldn't have let you go at all.”

“I didn't mind,” you say. You aren't lying. “You gave me up for a reason.”

He stands. Cups your face with a palm, luxuriant fabric and gold rings pressed against your skin. Sometimes he's given up the aventurine stone temporarily for assignments, parting with it in elaborate gambles that he always manages to win. The way he’s touching you now reminds you of the way he holds the gem whenever it returns to his hand.

“Well,” he says, “I’m sorry it took so long to get you back.”

Aventurine tilts your chin up for a kiss. You meet it eagerly, and it's so tender in its familiarity that every memory of your husband fades. There's only Aventurine, and his gentle mouth, and the way his hands slide your dress down again, how he palms your breasts again. How he teases one nipple with his expensive rings until you're moaning into his mouth. How his other hand travels down until his gloved hand is cupping your heat. You drag your hips against his touch, desperately seeking some kind of friction, your wetness drenching the cloth. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your body aching to be filled by him, aching in a way that it does for no one else.

It’s one of the most addictive feelings you've ever known.

Aventurine only stops touching you so he can push away all the chips, clearing space on the table. He ignores the cacophony as countless stacks fall over, not sparing the plastic coins a single glance. Like you're the only prize that matters to him, even though the sum of his winnings come out to more than you ever were worth.

He lays you out on the table again, flat on your back, exposed, before kissing a path down your body—your neck, your breasts, your stomach, between your thighs. He deigns to give your product code one more kiss, his lips so gentle that it makes you tremble—and then he finally puts his mouth on you. He licks a hot stripe from your dripping pussy up to the crest of your sex, and your eyes close in bliss.

If you felt any uncertainty before this, it's completely gone now. Your hands ghost over your tits, playing with them as Aventurine’s tongue plays with you. He sucks on your neglected clit, fingers squeezing your thighs, keeping you spread open and still for him. He presses in, lets you drag your cunt over his greedy mouth and grind your clit against his face. Heat and pressure coil tight in your belly as he pleasures you, your body flushing with the kind of bliss only Aventurine can give you. You’re so lost in it that you almost don’t notice how quiet the rest of the hall has gotten, the cacophony of chatter and slot machines oddly subdued—almost missing. In their absence, the obscene noises that Aventurine is drawing from your mouth and body are louder than they should be.

The pleasure in your belly is just starting to swell when he pulls away. You give him a pleading look as he leans over you, but before you can start begging for more, you feel his fingers press against your heat. He watches you with keen eyes as he starts rubbing your pussy, maybe enjoying the desperate noises you make at his touch. You buck your hips, moaning as your clit and entrance grind against the fabric of his gloves, seeking friction. You’re empty, aching, desperate to be filled, but you think you can finish like this, just by rutting against his satin fingers—

Aventurine withdraws his hand, and you whine.

“No,” you beg, “please, please keep going, I was getting close—”

He raises a brow, feigning surprise. “Keep going?” He brings up his hand, shows you his gloves. The satin is soaked, shiny and stained with your slick. “I don't think I should. Look at what a mess you’ve made of my gloves.” Aventurine hums, frowning. “These are designer, you know. And limited—there are only 95 pairs of these in the whole universe. And you're ruining them.”

“I'm sorry,” you say, mind so fogged with lust that you can't even return his teasing. “I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, I'll do anything, just—just let me cum—”

“Anything?” His smile is sly.

“Anything.”

“Well. I suppose if you help me clean this up, I wouldn't mind rewarding you with more.”

You don't need to ask what he means by that. When he holds out his hand to you, runs a finger along your lips, you obediently open your mouth for him. Your tongue slides along the wet satin, only making his glove messier—but he seems not to mind. He merely watches intently as your tongue cleans his fingers, taking in the obscene image of you hungrily lapping your own slick off the expensive fabric.

He lets you ruin his glove thoroughly before finally drawing back, peeling it off.

“I'm not sure that did any good,” he says, frowning. “I’ll probably need to buy a new pair. But”—he pulls away, and you feel him settle between your legs again, his hands spreading them. “I'll still reward you for the effort.”

Aventurine is quick about getting his mouth back on you. His tongue is hot on your skin, expertly teasing your clit. You feel his fingers running along your entrance again, growing sticky with his need. He laughs when you press your hips toward his hand, desperate to be filled.

Then he's pressing his bare fingers into your heat, and your back is arching off the table.

The moan you let out is obscene. It only gets worse when his fingers curl, making the pressure in your belly even heavier. Utterly shameless, you beg for him as he fucks you with his fingers: Aventurine, please, please, I need more, please, I'm so close, I'm so close.

As if taking pity on you, his mouth finds your clit again, his fingers pressing into your sweet spot at the same time. And he doesn't let up, pushing into it even when you think you can't take anymore—tongue swirling against your overstimulated bud, fingers making you gush uncontrollably. You practically sob when you cum, a noise of desperation that echoes in the gambling hall.

His smile looks a little fonder than usual—or maybe just entertained—as he stands again and leans over you. You taste your own release in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, and he strokes your face when he pulls away.

“So good for me,” he praises. “Are you going to let me do more?”

You nod eagerly. “Whatever you like,” you say, all sense of shame gone from your body, “and however you want.”

Aventurine’s mouth curls. “Your husband fucked you from behind, right? Why don't you bend over for me, then? Let's show him how he should have been doing it.”

You see the diamond pupils of Aventurine’s eyes glance off to the side, where, sure enough, your husband is spectating with some of his business partners. You force yourself to turn away before you can smile, hiding your expression from the other men. You’re not meant to derive any real pleasure from any of this, let alone pleasure of the vindictive kind. Your relationship with Aventurine is supposedly nothing but a gambler and his newly won, human plaything. It would be suspicious if you appeared to be anything else.

You slink off the table in a distinctly performative way, and Aventurine plays equally into the show—probably an act as familiar to him as it is to you. He guides you into turning around, your eyes falling on the scattered cards on the tabletop, the casino’s eyes falling on you. His hands waste no time in pulling down your dress and reaching around to knead your breasts, in full view of the rest of the gambling hall. You're only vaguely aware of your audience now, registering the interested, hungry stares, but not really caring. You're too focused on the way that Aventurine is tugging and twisting at your nipples, at how he’s pressed up against your ass, his cock straining through his pants. You grind needily against him, whining.

Aventurine kisses your shoulder. “Poor thing. You've been neglected for so long, haven't you?” His hands retreat, and you hear the sound of a zipper being undone. Then your skirt’s being pushed up and you're being bent over, your dripping pussy fully presented to him. When you feel the press of his cockhead against your entrance, you desperately try to push yourself back onto him. But he doesn't allow you to—only running the tip along your wet folds, still sticky from your release, while he stills you with a gentle touch on your hip.

You make a pathetic, desperate noise. Aventurine chuckles, though there’s now a breathy quality to his voice.

“Be patient,” he chides. “I'll take care of you.”

You know he will. He always takes care of you, in a way that no one else ever has. Even when he gambles your life for some mission, even when he can barely afford you the barest hints of intimacy, even when he displays your body to an audience of slave traders and murderers—he always takes care of you. Even if you are only a knife or a wristwatch or a chip in one of his games, he still treats you like you're worth holding onto.

Aventurine finally moves. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his cock sliding into you. Usually he needs to be careful after your long missions away from him, knowing you'll be tense. He understands that your body always anticipates being in pain after being touched by other people. But he has you so worked up right now—still dripping from your release, still pliant from his fingers, still eager to please him before the crowd—that your cunt easily swallows his length. The stretch is pure bliss, pleasure unfurling in your body as you're filled up properly for the first time in months. He's just as affected as you, breath shaking as he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he breathes—laughs. “Nearly forgot how good this feels.” He pauses, his breathing slowing—almost stopping each time you squeeze around him. You turn back, throwing him a pleading glance, and he meets it with an endeared smile. “Eager today, aren't you?” He hums, a hand sliding along your waist. “You really do need to be properly fucked.”

He's stalling. Trying to give you a moment to adjust, but you don't need it. “Yes,” you encourage him. Aching for the press of his cock against your walls, you grind against him, and you hear a strangled groan as you force him to move inside you. “Please, Aventurine—please, please fuck me, I need it so badly—”

He hums, both hands grabbing your hips, his fingers sinking into you. “Well. Since you asked so nicely.”

The first thrust has your eyes going wide, your hands reaching for the card table as you’re forced to bend over. You spread our palms next to the mess of heart cards and shiny tokens, bracing yourself for the way your body’s about to be used. He doesn't give you time to breathe after, each stroke filling you deep and fast. The rest of the gambling hall grows very, very quiet as Aventurine fucks you, and suddenly all you can hear is the appreciative murmur of the crowd, clink of ice cubes in aged whiskey, the noisy flick of lighters as more patrons opt to pause their games and enjoy the show. You hear the shattering of all the stacks beside you, hundreds of thousands of dollars in chips fall over beside you, tokens clinking as they roll across the tabletop. But all of that is soon drowned out by the wet noise of your pussy being fucked open, the squelch of your slick around his cock. You moan each time he bottoms out, eager to be filled.

When you feel his cock press into your sweet spot, your moans quickly turn into cries.

You hear something like a breathy laugh from Aventurine. Your body always reveals itself so easily to him, and you know he enjoys it. He hits that spot again and again, builds an agonizing tension in your body with every thrust of his hips. It has your pussy gushing around him, your thighs growing wet and sticky with your need.

Just when it feels like you can't take anymore, he reaches down and presses his fingers against your throbbing clit. Your knees buckle as he toys with you, chest heaving against the table as he sets a brutal pace. You're—overwhelmed, mind going hazy as you're fucked mercilessly. So far gone, you can hardly register the disgruntled expression of your husband, the hungry gazes of his companions, the way that other players are starting to shift in their seats, palming themselves at the sight of your pussy being split open. There's only the tight coil in your gut, the chips between your fingers as you grab uselessly for something to ground you, the cock that's filling you over and over and over—and oh fuck, you’re going to cum, you're really going to cum after being won in a game, from having your pussy used like a sleeve, from being watched by men who will never own you no matter how many times they trade you, no matter how many times they fuck you, no matter how many times they pass you around, because you'll only ever belong to Aventurine—

Your orgasm crashes through your body, and you sob.

It's a broken, blissed out noise. Your pussy is equally shameless, gushing as you pulse around Aventurine’s cock. You go limp as he fucks you through your orgasm, uncaring about the mess you're making. He only groans as you squirt all over him, hips stuttering as he reaches his own peak—spilling himself inside you, pumping you full. Aventurine’s body slumps over yours as rides out his high, his face pressing into your shoulder. You find the wherewithal to shift yourself, just enough to your lips against the tattoo on his neck. He looks at you for a fleeting moment, the blue ring of his eyes electric on you, before capture your mouth in a desperate, messy kiss.

The two of you stay there for a long moment, panting into each other. Then Aventurine collects himself, remembers how to talk: “Fuck.”

You piece yourself together just as easily. Maybe even faster. Smiling into his mouth, you ask, “Enjoy yourself?”

“Clearly.” Aventurine presses his lips into your neck, lingering only briefly. “Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

Aventurine takes his time with moving, as if basking in the afterglow—or bragging in it. But he does rise, eventually. Pulls out slowly, making you shudder. He helps you to your feet, lets you hold onto him for support. His spend drips down your thighs as you right yourself, messy and hot on your skin. You can feel it sliding down your legs as you walk, braced against Aventurine as he guides you in the long walk toward the elevator. It slips all the way down to your calves, to your expensive heels, even onto the marble floor.

You're fairly certain that it's not an accident when Aventurine flips up your skirt as you pass your ex-husband. At the very least, it isn't a mistake when you stumble in that same moment, bending over and giving him a good look at your well-used pussy, now overfilled with your boyfriend’s cum. You don't stop to look at him, but you know he must be red-faced, displeased—aware that he’s been humiliated. Beaten by a Stoneheart, concubine stolen by Sigonian, one of his favourite possessions claimed by a former slave. You'd laugh if you could.

You can't help but kiss Aventurine while the two of you wait for the elevator, a smile glowing into his lips.

It's absurd, but a staff member approaches the two of you as you indulge in one another. Aventurine pulls away as you’re approached, looking mildly annoyed as he switches on his synesthesia beacon.

“Sir,” the staff says, “you’ve left your other winnings at the table.”

Even in his post-orgasm bliss, Aventurine responds promptly. “I’ll cash it all,” he says. “Send the money to my room. I'm not coming back tomorrow.”

“Very well. And the terms of the… human resource exchange that just happened?”

Aventurine’s jaw clicks. It's quiet, but surprising. You watch him carefully.

“We didn't bet contracts,” he says. “This is a concubine, not a slave. But tell Mister Li I'll buy them anyway. I'll pay whatever price he wants, which I’d wager is the company that he gambled and lost to me. Maybe suggest that to him.”

“Of course,” the staff member replies, bowing. Despite the first-rate service, Aventurine looks like he can't get out of there sooner enough as he guides you into the elevator. You give him a curious look as the door closes.

“You're going to give up a multiplanetary corporation just for this?” you ask.

“Not entirely. The IPC was planning to acquire it anyway. It'll be ours again in a few months.” He stares at your reflections in the mirror, his strange eyes lingering on your dishevelled form. “We’ll put your intel to good use,” he adds, and although Jade or Diamond or any of your real bosses would say this with a smile and reward you with a bonus, Aventurine’s expression is unreadable.

“What's on your mind?” you ask, fingers brushing against his hand. “You’re worried about something.”

Aventurine blinks, and it takes him a moment to recover.

“Nothing. Just hoping we didn't give our relationship away just now.” He cups your face with a hand, guides you into looking at his smile. A deflection. “I might have gotten carried away.”

You lean into his touch, eyes playful: a performance. As if he's some stranger that you're servicing, a captor being entertained; as if you're a plaything about to be used. As if you expect to be treated like the disposable commodity that your husband just gambled away.

“I wouldn't worry,” you reassure him. “I'm sure after the show we put on, it'll be clear to anyone that you're only keeping me around for sex.”

It's very, very subtle, but a muscle in Aventurine's neck twitches. He'd never allow it in a game of cards, never before the IPC, never before the prying eyes of slavers and killers—but he allows it in front of you. He always unwittingly bares himself to you, even as he swallows his discomfort before adopting his usual, vulpine expression. You don't think anyone else would notice what lies beneath the gilded surface of his smile, his liar’s eyes. You don't think anyone else would notice his tells, his vulnerabilities, his quiet fear of loss.

After all, there is no one else in this universe who knows how to trick him into intimacy.

Winning has always come with a certain emptiness for Aventurine. Gambling is, after all, a zero sum game. He plays a royal flush and people lose their homes. Winner takes all. He survives the fighting pits, his blade dripping red with the lives of other slaves. Winner takes all. He runs from the stench of blood and burning flesh, praying for thunder and rain loud enough to drown the screams of his dying kin. Winner takes all.

He alone survives. He alone enjoys his riches. Ever since the Avgin died, he has always been by himself. There is no amount of coin nor credit that will ever change this.

Here is another unyielding fact that hollows any win: that no matter how many credits he collects, he will always be a chip himself. He will always be a plastic token worth sixty coppers. Gambling is a zero-sum game, and ever since the day he was chained, Aventurine has been the pool of riches divided among winners. He has always been the commodity being traded between hands. He has always been the prize to be cashed out and used. Even now, with all this money and power, it will never be him who comes to collect: it will always be the IPC. Winner takes all.

Such is his fate. Luck is always on his side, but he has always had the losing hand against destiny. No matter how many times he wins, there is nothing that will ever truly belong to him.

But then he met you.

Then he met you, and now his luck does not always feel like such a cruel or empty thing. Now the zero-sum game has meaning. He hedges his bets in the market and buys out a planet, and acquires you along with the shares. Winner takes all. He gambles his life against a nuclear power and comes out on top, and the IPC allows him to keep you by his side. Winner takes all. He plays a royal flush and wins at a table of slave traders, and he gets to fuck you until you can't think of any cock but his own. Winner takes all.

Gambling is a zero-sum game, and when you're the reward, Aventurine wouldn't have it any other way. He’ll never share you with anyone. He'll never sell you to anyone.

He’ll never lose you to anyone.

Sometimes it surprises him, this attachment he feels to you. He doesn't quite understand it, but he thinks it mostly just has to do with how good it feels to fuck you. Much like gambling, Aventurine has never enjoyed sex until you came along. Sex for him has always felt like a humiliation, like being gutted open as a captive animal, like being won and passed around in the grand hall of some gaudy casino.

Which is, in fact, another thing he never thought he'd enjoy: having sex in the Venetian Zhijin before an audience of revolting men. He'd resented having to do it as a slave, but he’d enjoyed doing it with you as a Stoneheart. He'd even do it again if he could—take you over and over again on that card table, fill you up with his cum. Spread your cunt in front of everyone, so they could see for themselves that you were now his. Winner takes all.

Winning doesn't feel empty when you're his reward. Sex doesn't either. Because Aventurine isn't a chip or an animal or a commodity when he fucks you—he's a player. Someone with a seat at the table, as just as wealthy and powerful as the slave traders around him. Someone who’s allowed to own something—really own something.

Really allowed to own you.

Aventurine owns you. When he fucks you, he is a player at the table, and you are the prize he gets to keep. And no matter how you feel about him and how you act toward him—this is all the two of you will ever be. He knows this. He knows that you know it too.

So sometimes he can't fathom it, the way he treats you in bed. The way he always kisses your commodity code when he sees it, the way he allows you to kiss his own. The way he always thinks about pleasuring you until you're drunk on his cock, so addicted to him that you’ll never want to be touched by anyone else. The way he always likes how your body feels when it's being shaped by his hands. How different it feels from being forced to touch other people.

How badly you make him want something that he's always hated.

And this is what he understands least of all: how he doesn't like to hear you say aloud the true nature of your relationship. How he doesn't like it when you accept this reality and say, you're only keeping me around for sex.

It hollows him out when he hears it. A bitter feeling swells in his throat, and he forces himself to swallow.

Aventurine keeps his face neutral as he enters the suite with you. As soon as the door is shut, you pull him close—close enough for him to see the blurred lines of your lipstick, smudged from his mouth; close enough to see the white diamond necklace on your neck, a collar for a concubine; close enough to see the finger-shaped discolorations on your throat, poorly hidden by your foundation.

Close enough to see all the things done to your body by others—all the things you didn't choose for yourself.

“How do you want to have me next?” Your fingertip traces his lips. “On the bed? In the shower?” Your eyes are playful. “Maybe against the window?”

Aventurine’s hand cups your cheek, gold rings pressed against your skin. His hold is delicate, more careful than with anything else he's ever handled—any of his watches, his furs, his jewellery. Even more than with the aventurine stone.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You blink.

“Kiss me?” Your brow ticks up, but then your face lights up in supposed understanding. “Okay. You can kiss me. And then?”

“And then I'll keep kissing you.”

You tilt your head, not understanding. “Really?”

“What? Is that off-limits now?” He leans in, expression playful. “Don't tell me I've got to go back downstairs and win back permission to kiss you from your husband.”

Before you can say anything else—ask anything else, perceive anything else—he presses his mouth to yours. Your eyes widen for only a moment before falling shut, your arms wrapping around his neck. Your lips part for him, and he delights in the noise you make as he deepens the kiss.

He did lie, in a way. The two of you do end up fucking again—this time in bed, your mouth gasping into his as you fall apart for him, wet and needy around his cock. You're so warm around him, so pliable beneath him, so desperate when possessed by him. He knows that he could keep going, that he could do anything to you, that you'd be eager to let him use you however he wants.

But all he does afterward is kiss you.

This is yet another act that he never thought he'd enjoy. Kissing has always felt like a chore or a power play or a manipulation. It has always come with a certain emptiness—just like gambling, just like sex. And then he met you, and now it no longer feels so hollow. Because when he wins bets for the IPC, he feels like a poker chip in one of their games, but when he’s fucking you, he feels like a player at the table. And sometimes, when he kisses you—when he holds you close, when you come down from your high and press your face into the crook of his neck and in the vulnerable haze of your bliss, tell him, I missed you—

—he finally feels like a human being.

end notes: christ alive I have never written anything so horny glddjsksjs. I apologize for both my mid smut writing and deranged characterization 💔

initially this was supposed to be brainless pwp about aventurine eating you out on a poker table but I kept asking myself “why the hell did aventurine gamble for human beings and why are these two insane enough to be fucking in a casino tho lol”, and thus a coherent narrative was born from my shameless lust for this guy! but please also don't take the story too seriously because this is a dumb smut piece first and foremost and I mostly wrote it with my clit 😔✌️

that being said, if you are curious about the subject matter that I covered – here's an afterword expanding on my intentions with the themes.

#aventurine x reader #aventurine smut #hsr smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #x reader #im so tired of editing this the quality of this piece is a lost cause sldkfjsldkfj #DIVIDER BY @/CAFEKITSUNE BTW it is so cute i thought it was perfect for this fic #anyway. sorry to everyone for character assassinating our favourite gambler #yueshuo.fics #dead dove #cw.slavery

[creatingblackcharacters]

“The Same Place as the Music” Lighting & Color

“Where is the light coming from?” “The same place as the music.” Andrew Lesnie, Cinematographer of LOTR

How & Why It's A Problem

If I had to summarize the frustration I have with this topic in one image, I'd use JeCorey Holder's (queer Black creative!) meme:

Now here's the thing. I'm not saying you have to be a master at lighting. I'm surely not. Hell, I still play around with lighting in my art in ways that aren’t the ‘most realistic’. You can’t ask me the technical explanations behind ‘color theory’ or 'contrast' without me doing some more reading. However… I don’t think anyone needs an art degree to understand this point:

We should be able to SEE your brown skinned Black characters!

I brought this up in my lessons about skin tones and blushing, and it applies with lighting as well. If all of your other characters have focused light and shadows, so should your Black characters.

However, this does NOT mean making them lighter-skinned!!!!

It's not funny nor logical at all to suggest that they somehow can't be seen like your other characters when you’re the one creating the piece. It's like a classic fifth-grade racist joke, “You blend in at night”. Har-de-har.

I was once rudely told to my face (well in the DMs) that a Black character that was completely Europeanized looked like that “because of the [sepia] lighting”. So I'm going to give you all, gracious readers, an example to show that that's not true.

This is Ana Flávia, Afro-Brazilian model! Gaze upon her beauty! Notice how in both of these filters, Ana did not, in fact, turn into a white woman! Because, my friends, that is not how that works! At all!

Here are some other examples of Black people in non-color lighting:

None of these people vanished from the frame just because there was no color. They didn't have to paint on lighter makeup to be captured by the camera. What do they all have in common (in this example)?

Lighting!

Now let’s discuss different ways to think about and potentially try instead!

What I want you all to keep in mind, is that the art you’re painting:

And I know that's silly right, like yeah no shit Ice, we knew that. BUT my point here is don’t be afraid to study photography, theatre, and staging for ideas. They actively work with light! It’s why I share so many images of models; it’s purposeful, focused staging of light with many of these compositions!

Brown-skinned Black people- brown-skinned people in general- GLOW in the light! Our skin reflects environmental light! There’s so much opportunity to play with that, and you can see different examples in those mediums.

Here are a couple articles of lighting in film focused on Black actors.

When lighting a person with dark complexion, the answer is not LIGHTENING THE SKIN, it’s understanding how light reflects off of dark skin.” -Nilah Magruder

Nilah Magruder (Black creator!) has an ENTIRE, thorough and wonderful essay on the topic, far better than I could give! She incorporates the use of cameras, lighting, painting, and more- so rather than be redundant here, I'm going to spotlight (ha see what I did there. It's okay, I know I'm funny) her and her explanation.

Incorporating Blackness in Color/Colorful Lighting

@dsm7 has an excellent and short visual explanation of how picking certain colors will lead to washing out or whitewashing Black characters, and how certain lighting and backgrounds (think the black and white photos on brighter backgrounds) will change the way their skin tone looks.

@nicosbighead has one of my favorite images on here, that shows how many different colors can still be used to convey the image of Blackness. Notice how all those pinks still worked?

@gaksdesigns has a beautiful picture here that I feel utilizes the light in a very minimal yet effective way to show highlights even on a palette that's fully brown.

This article approaches from a lighting perspective via filmmaking, but essentially Sade Ndya suggests instead of increasing the amount of light, change the color/lens of the light based on your character’s skin, as well as for the circumstances of the scene. They'll remain vibrant that way, and you’ll still capture what you need.

I know one way I do this on CSP (I think I’ve mentioned this but I can’t remember) is to use the Add Glow tool with the same or a similar shade of the character’s brown skin tone as a highlight under natural light, or maybe use different colors or filters depending on the sort of light on their skin at the time.

Here’s a reddit about it too, just because I know y’all value Reddit on here, and someone else discussed the topic that both Nilah and Sade discussed.

Is It Intentional?

There are going to be times where you intend for the light to be minimal. Maybe it’s a style choice. That should still show purposeful composition. Here’s an interview with famed Black director Ava Duvernay discussing the intentional darkness on Black actors in the prison scene in the movie Selma. To show that they're both trapped in prison AND that Martin is temporarily low on resolve- it's a part of the story that's being told.

I'm always talking about this: there is a difference between intention (and following through), and neglecting to think about it at all. And neglect isn't what we want, because often we can tell visually when it is- when an artist simply did not think to do it for one versus the rest.

Sidenote, on Youtube in the suggestions after Ava's interview, are also plenty of videos discussing lighting for dark-skin as well- why not take the chance to look?

Conclusion

We do not lack for light! We aren’t flat and lightless when you see us in life. It's actually a pretty awesome part of being brown-skinned. If you’re giving proper, flattering lighting to everyone else, give it to us as well. Study and experiment with ways to highlight brown skin.

You already know what I’m going to say. It’s going to take practice, same as anything else, because it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #character design #black characters #black art #black character design #black artists

[luveline]

Would you write a fic with either Eddie or spencer about reader being ghosted by someone they genuinely thought was into them (not speaking from personal recent experience or anything😅🥲) but they’re in love with reader and comforts them?

“I thought we had a nice connection,” you mumble dejectedly. 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “A connection? With him? He was five foot three.” 

“Eddie, that’s not nice. I don’t care how tall he was.” Your voice disappears into the cushion you’ve decided to lay face down on, your back a shuddering slope he wants to reach out and touch. “I don’t care about that. Much. What’s important was that he–” You lift your flushed head, eyes rimmed with teary wetness. “He was so nice to me, and he didn’t pressure me into anything, and he brought me flowers without me having to ask. He was nice.” 

“Your standards are so, so low,” Eddie says. 

You grumble and force your face back into the pillow. Eddie should be nicer. He wants you to feel better, and he hates seeing you upset, but if you’re sure that guy was your soulmate Eddie’s selfish enough to wish he’d stay gone. “Hey,” he says, finally putting his hand on your back, though the touch is for you rather than him. He loves you as your friend just as much as he wants to be more than that, and he doesn’t have any intent now but to get you smiling as he bends down to talk near your ear. “It’s okay. You didn’t need that guy, just like you don’t need any guy. You have me. I love you to pieces.” 

“I know, Eddie,” you say softly. “Just sometimes I want more, you know? I love you too, but I want a partner, I want a lot of things… I really liked him.” 

Eddie can picture the heartbreak quite clearly. “You want the picket fence, right?” 

“What?” 

You again raise your head. Eddie meets your eyes with a hesitant smile. “You want the white picket fence. The little two story house with a wrap around porch, or a backyard big enough for the kids to play in, the kids to play in it.” He licks his lips. “Or not. You don’t have to have kids, right? Anything would be enough if it was just you and…” 

You frown unhappily, and Eddie thinks shit, I’m making it worse, but you say, “I always thought you’d wanna live in an RV, travelling the country. You want a picket fence?”

Eddie shrugs self consciously. “Sure. I also want a games room and a five thousand dollar loan.” 

You look at him long and hard. “You've always said that stuff is dumb.” 

“It is dumb. Seeing you all torn up over some jagoff who probably can’t tell his hand from his dick is stupid.” You laugh and turn your head to lay back down again, cheek pressed to soft velvet. “That’s stupid, babe. Let’s give up on stupid things and– and stop crying over boys who don’t deserve you.” He can’t stop himself, says it too hotly, “He didn’t deserve you.” 

You're hard to read, still as a statue with your hands pressed under your heart, but at least you aren’t crying anymore. You nod against the pillow. “Okay,” you say hoarsely. 

He flushes white hot. “Okay. Good… That was exhausting.” 

You roll your eyes at his complaining and he pats himself on the back, sure he’s gotten away with it again. He completely misses the strange looks you give him from the corner of your eye, too focused on giving you the world's best, totally not too friendliest back rub. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[killerpancakeburger]

Outpace the dawn

Gif by @silverformymonsters

Summary: BG3 Spawn ending Fix It fic! Because I refuse to let him deal with the sunlight alone.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Warnings/tags: SPOILERS obvsly, angst/comfort, non canon compliant.

Words count: 936 words.

A/N: It should be Gender Neutral, but if I fcked up since I tend to write from my pov, you can tell me and I'll correct it.

Yes the title is from that Hozier song. It got me thinking how Astarion would need to outpace the dawn from now on.

Astarion’s voice cut through the silence that followed your last battle, as your little group was gathering on a pontoon.

“So, what’s next for us?”

You had been thinking about what was to come for a while, actually. Probably longer than any of your companions have. Some might argue that it wasn’t the time for that, that you should have been completely focused on defeating the Netherbrain. But you couldn’t help it; it was a matter of life and death - Astarion’s life and death. Or rather, undeath and death. Since you’ve known that the brain was within reach, it had become an omnipresent apprehension in your mind.

The slaughter of the brain sounded the death knell of the tadpoles, and their disappearance inevitably meant that Astarion’s resistance to the sun would vanish like it never existed. Like nature rightfully reasserting itself by getting rid of this aberration that had been a vampire walking in the sun in the first place. 

This knowledge has been haunting you for days and nights now. It was your first thought when you woke up and your last when you fell asleep. A knot of dread had settled inside your stomach, making it hard to fall asleep and to interact normally with the source of your worries. And right now, following Astarion’s question, the knot in your guts got even tighter, even more painful.

At any moment, any second from now on, your vampire lover would catch fire as surely as straw in the summer. 

It was fine. You planned. You prepared for this. You procured a large, thick, hooded coat that was guaranteed to block the sunrays. It was even imbued with magic that made it impossible to tear, pierce, or rip in any way. It hadn’t been easy to acquire, but Astarion didn’t need to know that. 

You were on the lookout for any sign of burning, wound as tightly as a spring while still trying to appear normal to the others.

“The world is our oyster, and she has many pearls we can choose from.” claimed Astarion, blissfully unaware of his fate.

He illustrated his remarks by spreading his arms far apart with vigor. The genuine excitement, the happiness in his voice almost made you sick to your stomach. Astarion’s displays of authentic joy were few and far in between, and this one would end as soon as it started. As fast as a vampire spawn left in the sun, as a pile of ashes on the ground.

You could barely bear to look at him. You didn’t have the heart to remind him of his imminent doom. He obviously had forgotten about it for the time being, and while the cruel reality was taking up almost all the space in your brain, like blaring alarms, you’d be damned if you took away from him his last, his only instants of light and warmth, of complete freedom, by reminding him. No Cazador, no tadpole, no mind control, no deadly sunlight, no slave and no master. Just an immense ocean of liberty, intoxicating, vertiginous.

“I honestly don’t mind what we do, once we get to- Ow!”

You instantly straightened up at the sound, like a wild animal who picked up the sound of an upcoming danger. For a terrible second, there was a twisted part of you who felt relieved. Finally, your gnawing, agonizing wait was coming to an end. Then, swiftly, the relief disappeared, flooded with your concern for Astarion. 

“What the- Oh no. Oh Gods.”

Already his hands were fuming, his beautiful pale face sprinkled with silververy cracks like delicate porcelain. He had always looked more like a piece of art than a living being after all. The frantic panic in his voice was like a punch to the chest. In all your battles and struggles together, you had never seen him so horrified. Even against Cazador. Even a True Vampire had to yield to the Sun.

He threw you a harrowing look, like he was bidding you goodbye before bolting. As if you were going to leave him to deal with this alone. Already you were rushing towards him, the life-saving coat in hands. You wrapped it around him as fast as your hands would allow, put the hood on, and gently grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him so his covered back would take the blunt of the light.

“There we go, you explained softly. This will block the sun.” 

“You’ve got this, and I’ve got you.” you added, mirroring his own words.

You were smiling sadly, trying to be supportive, to not add to his burden. The look in his eyes was hard to describe, an intense blend of heartbreak, vulnerability, and gratefulness. 

“Well… It was… it was nice while it lasted.” he managed to articulate, his voice breaking like he was about to cry. 

You could feel your heart break in response like an echo.

The magic sunproof coat was in no way a solution. Barely a bandage on a sinking ship. You had to get out of the sun, quickly.

“Come on, love. Let’s get you some shadow, uh?”

Your encouraging smile was as fragile as a spiderweb. You could feel it teetering on the edge of an abyss. 

Astarion simply nodded, like he didn’t trust his voice anymore. It was fine. He was already expressing so much through his gaze.

You put your hand on the small of his back, barely applying any pressure, threw a telling look over your shoulder at your other companions, and you both started your search for protective darkness between the walls of Baldur’s Gate.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #fanfic #fic #bg3 fanfiction #yes i know i said i was doing rolan - lol - but i already written half of this one so i might as well finish it right?

[hgfictionwriter]

Maybe This Time - Part Three

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie and you finally get some 1:1 time together (thanks Janine!). You work to build new memories together, but hurt from the past needs to be addressed.

Warnings: None. Temporary, very light angst, but mostly sweet fluff.

A/N: Part two and one. Part Four will likely be the finale.

"What do you think? Should I go for it?" 

Jessie smirked as she saw the screenshot you sent her of her jersey in the Thorns' site shopping cart. 

"I don't know. I thought you said that was too big a commitment." 

"I did. But I was rather impressed at the last game. And we went for drinks after, I finally got to meet Janine – so you know, points for that. And if I think about it, I'm like an OG fan. But if you think I should get a different jersey..." 

Jessie laughed under her breath, her smirk now a full blown smile as she read your message while she ate lunch. The conversation she'd been on the periphery of carried on as she ate another bite before typing out a reply. 

"Oh yeah? Post-game drinks were a hit, huh? And you know, my stats are only getting better with each game 😉 And let's be honest, I'd be pretty offended if you got someone else's jersey. Except Sinc's. Because, you know, GOAT." 

"Oh, well, say no more. You had me at 'stats' lol. Done. I'll pick it up before next game." 

"Lol I figured. My plan all along – I know how much you love stats." 

"You know me so well. I have to say, I'm kind of tempted to modify the jersey. Add some sort of patch or stitching, 'Yay sports!'" 

Jessie laughed out loud, less discrete than before.  

"Don't you dare lol. I've taught you better than that. But hey, if you ask nicely, I could actually sign it for you 😎" 

"I'm sure I have an old group paper kicking around with your signature on it. I need to be able to wash this thing lol. What else can you offer though?" 

Jessie swallowed her food hard, the bite getting caught temporarily in her throat with a wince. Okay, no signature – how humbling. However, there was an opening. 

She stared at her phone temporarily before a loud clearing of someone's throat caught her attention. She lifted her gaze with a curious frown on her face to see Janine staring expectantly at her. Jessie instinctively tilted the phone inwards towards her body. 

"I don't even have to spy to know who you're texting," the blonde said rather self-satisfied. Jessie looked around, heat building in her face already as she hoped Janine was the only one focused on her.  

"Yeah?" Jessie retorted, attempting to appear as unfazed as possible. "You should be pleased. You keep pushing me to text her." She cracked a smirk. "Now that you don't think she's the devil incarnate for 'stringing me along' in university." 

"Oh I don't think you need to be pushed," Janine teased with a wicked grin. "And I never said she was the devil incarnate." She lifted a hand to her chest in exaggeration. "I merely questioned things. But you're right," she relented, "she's quite lovely. And she gives you butterflies, and she makes you blush - more than usual - and you try to act all nonchalant and it's just too adorable for words." 

"Uh huh," Jessie muttered with a flat look. Janine leaned in excitedly. 

"And I have to say, I got the sense that she and I could riff off of each other and just tease the heck out of you, so that really sealed the deal for me." 

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, that's exactly what I need in my life." She'd never admit that it actually excited her that her best friend and you could get along so well. If – and it was a huge 'if' - anything evolved between you two, it was key that you got along with her friends and family.  

She started thinking about how well you got on with her parents and sister – you'd met before during your days at UCLA and they loved you. She also remembered how disappointed they'd seemed when she eventually told them that you two didn't speak anymore.  

"Well, since you're so invested," Jessie went on, rolling her eyes facetiously once more as she opened her phone again and turned it to Janine, "what should I say?" 

Janine squinted as she leaned in to read and it only took a moment for her expression to light up. Before Janine could say anything, Jessie snatched the phone back and placed it on her lap with a frown.  

"I don't want to hear it," she pre-empted the girl. 

"What?" Janine said innocently with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I am totally supportive of the flirtation between you two." She ignored Jessie's look of complaint and cut off her protest. "Her shutting down your autograph is pretty hilarious, by the way," she said with a marginally apologetic look. "Not smooth on your part – you know she's not impressed by your elite football skills. Don't lean on your Jessie the Footballer identity." 

"I wasn't," Jessie nearly hissed, trying to keep her voice down and avoid drawing attention. "I was joking. Half joking." 

"You were flirting, or at least attempting to. She left you an opening here though. So, you should ask her out." 

"I'm not asking her out," Jessie pouted, her shoulders rounding as she scooched closer to the table. She huffed upon seeing the scrutinizing look her friend gave her. "We're still getting to know each other again." 

"Fine. Don't define it as a date, then," Janine dismissed with a wave. She leaned in, folding her arms on the table. "Ask her to go for dinner." 

"Basic," Jessie remarked as she sat up and crossed her arms in disapproval. She frowned. "Plus that's too date-like." 

"Fine," Janine said curtly. "How about a hike?" 

Jessie hummed and hawed, unconvinced. "Maybe someday. Doesn't seem right at this point though." Janine rolled her eyes in exasperation.  

"Well, what did you two used to do back at UCLA?" 

Jessie shrugged. She saw the frustration Janine was telegraphing at how unhelpful she was being and jumped in. "We went to drop-in art classes sometimes." 

Janine held a hand up to the sky. "Thank you. Finally – something I can work with. Okay! Let's find a drop-in class for you two to go to then." She pulled out her phone and started browsing before shooting a look at Jessie as an aside. "Oh, and dinner's too date-llke, but an art class isn't? Okay." 

Jessie grunted and pulled out her phone as well to look.  

"Here," Jessie announced after a couple of minutes. "This'll work. She enjoyed painting." 

Without further consultation, Jessie began to type out a message to you. She bit back a laugh at how Janine's head was bobbing around periodically trying to peek at the message from across the table.  

"Don't send it yet! I want to see it," Janine pouted.  

"You are not writing my messages for me," Jessie told her pointedly, but gave a heavy sigh as she turned her phone for the blonde to see. An affronted look crossed Jessie face as Janine let out a guffaw and snatched the phone out of her hand.  

"No," Janine simply said with a wag of her finger before she started typing. Jessie reached out for the phone, but Janine turned her body away. Jessie clamored more, but stopped as soon as she noted some of their teammates glancing their way. She shrunk back into her seat, a hand rubbing the side of her face as she spoke in a harsh whisper.   "What are you doing." 

"Jeff. Relax. I would never lead you astray," Janine assured her. "And this is so very satisfying for me since I never got to help you with any of this during uni. Cause let me tell you, if I had been involved, you two definitely would've been living happily ever after." 

Jessie breathed in exasperation. "Please. Give me my phone back." 

"Okay, okay. Here," Janine said, all humour from her tone gone as she now offered Jessie a sincere smile. "Read it over, but I think this is good." 

Jessie gave her a lingering stare as she took back her phone and let out another withering sigh before reading.  

"Funny you should ask. I was thinking about how much I missed art classes together. How about I take you to one of the drop-in painting classes across town when I'm back from Houston?"  

Jessie lifted her gaze to meet Janine's and she studied the blonde for a few moments before relenting with an inaudible sigh. It was better than her original "I don't know. Paint class?" reply. She hit send and released another heavy breath as she tucked the phone away once more.  

"You're welcome," Janine said with a saccharine smile. Jessie gave her a fake smile in return, pulling a laugh out of the girl. "Hey, let's remember which one of us is engaged and which one of us is perpetually single." 

"Ouch," Jessie said with a light laugh.  

"I'm just teasing," Janine went on. "I genuinely hope this turns into something for you. Considering you've only come back into each other's lives, what, like a couple months ago? You two seem pretty solid already. And you seem happier." 

Jessie wanted to give a dry retort of some kind, but Janine was right. You two talked every day now and the chemistry you had in university was still very much present. And the depth you once had in your friendship was something that was quite easily and naturally being broached again. Even if you'd both grown and changed, the cores of who you were still aligned well and fit together. Too well. 

She'd more or less dismissed the spark of emotions that came up during your initial interactions as some sort of emotional muscle memory, but the feelings were proving to not be fleeting or diminishing.  

If anything, her feelings for you were growing. And this time they felt different, too. Heavier, deeper in some way. She was a more realized person now, as were you, and it made the connection between you more substantial. Less juvenile.  

Her phone buzzed. She opened her lock screen.  

"That sounds like a lot of fun! Let's do it." 

————

By the time your paint date night came around, Jessie was nearly buzzing with anticipation. It wasn’t an official date, of course, but she hadn’t seen you since that night after the game, and truthfully, it felt like it had been too long.

She was early - as usual - but as she rounded the corner to the building, she bit back a smile upon seeing you waiting. You were always early too, which she appreciated.

“Hey.” Jessie greeted as she approached. Again, she had to tamp her smile when you beamed back at her.

“Hey, good to see you,” you said as you stepped in for a hug, which Jessie reciprocated. “I love your shirt,” you continued when you stepped back.

“Oh,” Jessie said with a slight frown and a mild laugh as she looked down at herself in question. “Thanks,” she said as she gave a shrug and fought off a blush. She looked you up and down, not entirely discretely. “I like your outfit.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and gave her a look. “You don’t need to reciprocate my compliment. But thank you.”

“I legitimately like your outfit,” Jessie retorted, her pitch rising and pulling a laugh out of you as you both walked towards the building. Jessie took a few quick steps and grabbed the door, holding it open. “After you.”

“Such service. Thank you,” you said, both teasing and appreciative. Jessie didn’t wink, but she did give a teasing lift of her eyebrows as you passed.

As the instructor gave their directions for the lesson, Jessie found herself distracted, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. The whole lesson carried on like that, really. Jessie had to make a point to not fall behind as she’d uncharacteristically lose concentration. The worst, well, best, moments being when she'd lean over feigning critical assessment of your work when really she just wanted to be close.

By the end, she was decently satisfied with the forest landscape she’d painted. However, she felt it paled in comparison to the ocean sunset you’d crafted.

“I love your colours. And the little cabin you added is great,” you told her as you were both leaving, canvases in hand.

“Well good,” she said as she got to a clearing on the sidewalk and stopped to turn to you. “Consider it my gift to you,” she went on as she held it out to you.

“Jessie,” you said sweetly with a smile as you took it and looked it over more thoroughly. “That’s really sweet. Thank you. It’s beautiful. And bonus - I get my Jessie Fleming signature, but on a far rarer painting as opposed to a jersey,” you laughed. “And what a coincidence. I painted this for you.”

Jessie looked at you for a moment before a smile broke out across her face as she belatedly took the painting you held out.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she studied the image. She frowned in realization as she lifted her eyes to you. “Is this the same beach from our photo?”

You nodded. “It is. Nice eye.”

“Who knew you were so sentimental?” Jessie teased.

“Apparently not you,” you replied with a roll of your eyes, but gave a small laugh. “Come on. It’s been a while, but you know me better than that.”

Jessie was quiet for a moment as she took you in. She eventually nodded. “I know.”

A small lull fell over you both before you asked. “So, what now? Do you have to leave?”

“No.” Jessie spoke quickly with a shake of her head. “I don’t have anywhere to be. How about you?”

You shook your head in return. “Same. Well, it’s beautiful out tonight. Want to just go for a walk? We can drop these off at my car first,” you proposed as you held up the painting.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

After a short detour, you both began your stroll along the quiet, tree-lined street.

“Thanks for suggesting that class,” you said. “I don’t really get to paint or pursue creative hobbies as much anymore. It was nice to make a point of it. I can’t imagine you have much of an opportunity to focus on things like that anymore, hm?”

Jessie sighed quietly in contemplation and gave a shrug.

“Not extensively, no. But we do lots of team building, so sometimes we’ll do artsy things. And I can do hobbies and such in my down time, whether during the week or between seasons.”

She looked over to see you giving her a soft smile.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing really. Just kind of crazy how everything turned out. You’ve achieved so much and your life is so impressive.”

Jessie was about to interject with a compliment for you, but you carried on.

“Are you happy with how things turned out?” You asked with a slight cock of your head.

“I-um, yeah.” Jessie stammered slightly, caught off guard by your question. “I mean, yeah it’s been incredible. More amazing than I could’ve ever pictured. And I know I’m very lucky.”

“You’re not lucky, Jess. You’ve worked exceptionally hard.”

She huffed lightly. “Yes, but luck is involved too. Lots of people work hard and still don’t get half the opportunities I’ve had.”

“I suppose,” you relented. “But you’ve made the most of those opportunities and haven’t taken them for granted.”

“That’s true. But look at you. You’ve worked so hard. And I know what you’ve been up against, but you’ve risen above and built a great life for yourself,” Jessie emphasized.

“Thank you,” you accepted with a half smile. Jessie knew the ins and outs of your family dynamics - something few people truly knew. You smiled more fully at her. “And look at us now. We both left LA and then found ourselves in the same city again and got to reconnect,” you finished with a laugh. "It sounds strange, but it really feels like in some ways like no time has passed. Not really, anyway. Like you and I were able to pick up where we left off."

You let out a quick sigh, giving a deep shrug as you did so. Your eyes remained trained on the ground as you two walked. "I mean, we talked the other week about my family and it just felt so different. Like, I've told recent friends or girlfriends my history and everything, and they listen and they 'get it', but it's not the same. That conversation with you – via text, no less – had more depth and weight than any comparable conversation with my exes or current friends. You were there. You know it – and me, I guess - inside and out. And even if I retell things, it's just not the same." 

Jessie nodded, watching you. It did feel like yesterday when she was sitting next to you on your bed, sobs wracking your body after one confrontation too many with your family. Normally, Jessie was so analytical and tentative about her physical contact with you, but the second you started crying she put her arms around you without hesitation and you leaned in, resting your head on your shoulder as she held you. That was the first time, but it wasn't the last.  

Looking back on it, maybe your girlfriends did have good reason to dislike her. 

"I know what you mean," she told you. "It's different. I mean, it's the same with you in a lot of ways. You were there for me during some critical points – big decisions in my life and you understood who I was and who I wanted to be." 

You smiled at her fondly. You looked ready to say something and Jessie waited. A moment passed and you exhaled, saying, "It really meant a lot – having you in my life and the support you gave me back then. I hope you know that." 

"I know," Jessie accepted with a smile of her own. "And likewise." 

Her mind drifted. She should probably just leave things be, but not speaking her mind is what held her back all those years before. She needed to share her thoughts and feelings if things were going to be different this time. She took a breath.  

"You know, I was really shocked when we saw each other here." She paused briefly. "I don't know. We hadn't talked in so long. I think I'd relegated myself to assuming we'd never see each other or ever talk again. Despite how important we were to one another at some point." 

Her statement seemed to give you pause, the mild surprise evident on your face. You eventually glanced down at the street as you two continued to walk. 

"Yeah. That's true, I guess," you conceded, your voice soft. 

Jessie studied you, unsatisfied with the response you gave. She pushed.  

"I knew we wouldn't be able to stay as close as we were. That was inevitable with us living so far away from one another, but I don't think I expected contact to fall apart as quickly as it did." You didn't reply right away and she went on with an ironic laugh. "We went from talking all day every day, to a few times a week with a video call scattered in there, to the odd message every couple of weeks, then just texts on birthdays and at Christmas, to nothing at all." 

She wasn't sure what she was anticipating, but she didn't expect you to turn to her with a perplexed frown.  

"Yeah. It did taper off pretty quickly."  

Despite the time that'd passed, Jessie still knew when you were telling half-truths. She gave a bit of an empty chuckle. "What else are you thinking?" 

You returned her laugh with a mild look. "I don’t know. I'm just kind of confused, I suppose." Jessie frowned.  

"About what?" She questioned. Faint alarm bells went off in her head when you stopped walking. She stilled her movements as well and you turned to one another on the sidewalk.  

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. You spoke with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. 

"I know it was me who stopped replying right away to messages – I don't deny that – but you weren't exactly giving me a lot to work with." You took a breath, dropping your shoulders before you spoke further. "Honestly? It was kind of feeling one-sided. Yeah, you replied, but a lot of your replies were brief and noncommittal. And when I asked if everything was okay you just told me you were busy. Which," you let out a slightly rueful laugh, "is absolutely fair. You were building this brand new, big life. Which is exactly what you were supposed to do. I don't begrudge you at all. I don’t know." You shrugged and averted your gaze momentarily. "I guess things just started to feel off." 

Jessie exhaled quietly as she processed your reply. What you were saying wasn't false. It had been so long it was easy for Jessie to just recall the end result – that you'd stopped replying altogether. That you'd given up on her; on the connection you'd both built for years. 

Standing here now though, if she was honest with herself, it was true that Jessie grew distant in her messages - purposefully so - knowing it would drive you away. What was she supposed to do? You two were never going to be together. And being friends was so incredibly hard sometimes because it was never just friendship for her. There was always this bittersweet feeling to everything and now that you were on completely different paths, there was an inevitable conclusion. Yet, she struggled to cut herself off cold. So instead, she took the coward's way out.  

Jessie scratched the back of her head. "I was busy," she repeated. She contemplated doubling down, but thought better of it. "And I guess I was finding it hard. We were building two very different lives." 

There was so much more she wanted to say, but she couldn't. What would be the point? Her chest panged when you gave her a sad smile.  

"I know," you accepted with a sadness in your eyes. "And I really wanted that for you. I just - it was hard to not feel like a nuisance. Like some obligation. So I just stopped writing."

Jessie's frown deepened. She knew all those years ago that she had to be hurting you, but she could lie to herself about it and focus selfishly on herself. Seeing you talk about it in front of her wasn't something she'd anticipated.

"I didn't mean for that," Jessie said. "And I never stopped caring about you," she compromised. 

"Yeah. I never stopped caring about you, either," you reciprocated in a subdued manner. Despite her role in everything, Jessie was still harbouring hurt from all those years prior and she felt compelled to push on. Sure, she'd pushed you away, but you'd let her. She erased you from her life little by little, day by day and you allowed it.

"Funny how quickly things change sometimes," Jessie went on. She didn't mean to scoff, but she did. "You didn't even tell me when you and [y/ex] broke up. You didn't even tell me you were having problems."  

In years past, Jessie was your sounding board for all your girl troubles. She remembered it well – it was painful. Having to hear you either swoon or – more often – complain about your girlfriends. Hearing how they disappointed or frustrated you when Jessie knew she could love you better. Just thinking back to it stoked a fire in Jessie's chest again. While she had genuinely loved you and cared about your well-being, she'd vowed to never get stuck in that dynamic again.  

You cracked a smirk. "It just seemed frivolous to bother you with something like that at that point." 

Another pang in Jessie's chest. "Well," she kicked idly at the concrete beneath her, "I would've been there for you if you ever needed me. I hope you knew that." 

You sighed and gave a hollow laugh as you pushed your hair back, causing Jessie to get momentarily distracted by the way the rays from the street light hit your face.  

"I know," you said quietly before meeting her gaze. "And I hope you knew the same about me. I know you're surrounded by people who love you, but," you shrugged listlessly, "I'd be there for you, too." 

Before Jessie could respond you gave her another smirk. 

"Besides. Though you never said anything explicit, I know you didn't like her. And by the end I could see why, too. No point wasting any of our limited conversation talking about her." 

Jessie bit back a smirk, but knew her eyes betrayed her. "Well, I guess that's poetic. Your girlfriends never liked me and I never liked them." 

Despite the mounting tension in your conversation, you laughed and gave her a nod. Jessie didn't return your laugh though. She gave you a solemn look. 

"You always deserved better than them. I know some of them were just fine, some of them even good, but they didn't seem earnest enough and they didn't love you enough." 

You were taken aback by her sudden proclamation. You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words.  

Jessie never understood how they didn't worship the ground you walked on. She practically did, even if she didn't show it. While those girls showed they cared through superficial acts like a generic bouquet of flowers, Jessie listened. In many ways. It was obvious to Jessie that they didn't really get you – not the way she did. And if they were so in tune with you, then why was it her you came to when things were hard or you were scared or even hopeful. If she'd been your girlfriend, she would've given you everything you needed and more. They clearly didn't. 

You eventually gave a soft huff and offered Jessie a quiet smile. 

"You've always been very observant. And very thoughtful. I get it now. There's a reason I'm single now. I don't want to settle anymore," you told her. 

Jessie was quiet before giving a nod of acceptance.  

"I'm glad to hear that." 

You both started walking again, though neither of you spoke right away. There was still a heaviness in the air, but it felt different now; hopeful.  

"I'm sorry for how things ended," you said as she glanced over at Jessie as you two strolled through the quiet street. "You've always been really important to me – regardless of whether we were in contact or not. I don't want to say that I wish things had been different, because I really don't see the point in regretting anything, but I will say I'm very grateful that we've had this chance to reconnect and rebuild." You paused. "I've really missed you. I didn't realize how much." 

"I'm really sorry, too," Jessie said, a smile spreading across her face. "And I agree – we can't change the past, but I also appreciate the chance to be friends again. I've missed you, too." 

She swallowed as she contemplated whether to add more. The lull that naturally formed told her to forge ahead.

"And you were never a nuisance or an obligation. I'm really sorry it came across that way."

"Awww, Jessie," you said in a teasing voice, lifting your conversation up again. You paused your steps and Jessie stopped and turned to you in question. "Come on," you beckoned as you waved her over and brought out your phone. "We need a new photo together." 

Jessie didn't fight it. Instead, she smiled at you and walked over to stand next to you. You leaned into her and Jessie found her hand naturally gravitated to your waist. It rest there before Jessie could even realize it, but before she could fret, you looked back at her with a smile before facing forward again. 

You took the photo and immediately opened up your messages with Jessie to send it to her. Jessie belatedly realized her hand was still on you and she pulled it back, holding her hands behind her. 

"There," you announced. "Now we can start rebuilding our collection. Portland memories – not just UCLA anymore." 

Jessie laughed and held up her phone, pointing the camera at you. 

"No, come on," you whined immediately and she laughed further.  

"Hey, this is part of the deal," she countered. You huffed, but eventually smiled for her. "Just remember. This goes both ways. I get new photos of you, too." 

She found herself giving you a wink. "I'll allow it."  

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #portland thorns

[justporo]

An Assortment of Strays

I believe I still owe you guys a drabble about how Astarion adopts a stray kitten. So here you go. @mushy6902 this one's on you again! (Also I only googled what you could give a kitten for improvisation, don't take that as advice!)

Pairing: Astarion/Gn!Tav

Wordcount: 2,2k

After an autumn storm Astarion comes home completely drenched, under his doublet jacket he has a small kitten that's desperately trying to cling to the vampire's chest.

Astarion had gone out to run some errands - probably mostly threads for his embroidery projects and some new tomes he could brood over.

He‘d asked you if you would care to join but you had taken a look outside your tall living room window, seen the autumn storm brewing outside, making itself known with stormy winds and clouds passing over the moon and told him “thank you, but no thank you”.

He couldn‘t catch a cold - you could, and weren‘t very keen on it.

Then you had cozied up in front of the lit fireplace with a goblet of wine - you had adopted Astarion‘s inclination to it in no time - and a book. Surely, it had started to rain cats and dogs soon after. And because you were such a nice and thoughtful person you had already collected some towels for the vampire when he would return and curse the weather, looking like a wet puppy, his white curls all but flattened by the rain and drooping adorably around his pointy ears.

He took much longer than expected though but you weren‘t worried - he was a free man now after all and could do whatever he pleased.

So, you sat and read - Scratch had come over too when the storm had really started going. After your party had split after everything was said and done, you‘d insisted on keeping the stray. So now he lived with Astarion and you in your little townhouse and very much enjoyed being spoiled by you.

Astarion didn‘t bond with the dog awfully much - „rather a cat person, my love, sorry“ - but he still sometimes could be found sitting in the window alcove reading with the dog in his lap, who received some head scratches.

Scratch had almost buried himself under the blanket you had spread over your legs now, when the first lightning strikes had turned into roaring thunder. You were gently patting his head and ears to soothe him while holding your book with your other hand. Focused completely on your reading you only looked up when you heard noises - and cursing - in the hallway.

You put your reading down and softly lifted the dog‘s head from your lap to get up. As you walked in the hallway you saw the expected scene: Astarion completely drenched, hair dripping and cursing like a sailor.

„Gods, I should have listened to you concerning the weather - you were right“, Astarion spat and made and disgusted face. „I‘d say I am right more times than you would like to admit, my love“, you answered with a chuckle and grabbed the towels you had prepared but were startled when you realised there was something more.

The vampire seemed to have something inside his doublet jacket he had obviously tried to keep dry.

„What is it you have there, Astarion?“, you asked curiously and drew your brows together - somehow you were sure that it wasn‘t just books or a precious bottle of „a fullbodied red“ that he was carrying.

The vampire ignored your question. His face lit up when he saw that you were holding some towels: „Oh, good thinking, my sweet, we could really use something to soak up all the godsdamned rain.“ „We?“, you replied confusedly and helplessly held up the towels.

Astarion carefully opened up his doublet and revealed a small furry creature. A small white kitten that was just as drenched as Astarion and desperately tried to cling to the vampire‘s chest: small, scared, miserably shaking and meowing.

„Oh no, who‘s this poor little thing?“, you cooed immediately and opened up your arms with one of the towels opened up so you might wrap the small kitten in it.

„Really? That‘s how you treat a cat you‘ve just met when I am here - your cherished soulmate - just as wet and miserable?“, Astarion complained. „For being so miserable you have an awful lot of breath to waste, my friend.“ Astarion huffed in protest. „Also you are not probably only a few weeks old and loudly meowing for help“, you continued and carefully took the kitten from Astarion who just as carefully handed the tiny little thing to you.

„Oh, I could meow if that‘s what would help further my case with you“, Astarion pouted while you cautiously dried off the kitten.

When the vampire just stood in front of you and said nothing while still dripping all over your hardwood floors you looked back up. „Oh uh, there‘s another towel back there, my love, if you want to dry yourself“, you said and then went back to cradling your small new friend.

Astarion sighed dramatically and walked past you to grab the promised towel. „I already get the feeling, this was a mistake. Your heart so eagerly conquered by a cute little stray you just took in“, he proclaimed theatrically, the back of one of his hands placed on his forehead.

„Hmm, says the cute little stray that I took in and that conquered my heart“, you replied matter-of-fact, not taking your eyes of the small animal and started to walk towards the living room and the burning fire there in the fireplace.

As you passed Astarion who was still trying to get his hair dry you threw your vampire a sideglance though; just to make sure he‘d caught that. And, oh, he had. He smirked and winked at you, having heard exactly what he wanted from you.

You sat down in front of the fireplace. Scratch was immediately up and wagging his tail, smelling the newcomer. “You be nice and keep your distance, Scratch”, you warned the dog. “I guess our new friend is already scared out of their mind!” And so the stray layed down again, his head on the ground between his paws, looking up at you with puppy eyes. His tail was still lazily wagging in excitement.

The kitten was slowly stopping shuddering with the warmth of the fire starting to dry her fur, but she wouldn’t stop meowing. Astarion came over to you after some time after he had put on some dry clothes. “I guess she doesn’t want to be held by me. Will you hold her? I’m going to look for something we can feed her in the kitchen”, you explained immediately after the vampire had sat down on his knees in front of you. You cautiously handed over the towel with the kitten to the stunned elf who started to huff in protest: “No, Tav, please you are the one good with animals…” “You brought the small cat here…” “Yes, but only because-“ You were already out the door and halfway to the kitchen. You searched your brain for what you knew about what you could feed a cat that was still so small. Tomorrow you would have to go out and find proper nutrition for the poor small thing.

You rummaged through your cabinets and finally mixed together some milk, water, yogurt and eggs – at least for tonight that would hopefully suffice. In one bowl you had your improvised kitten food and in another you filled some water. Then you went back to the living room. Astarion had donned the towel and was holding the kitten against his chest where it had calmed down. But she still had her claws borrowed in Astarion’s doublet and apparently they went right through the cloth judging by the vampire’s grimace.

“Watch out, she got you, tiger”, you joked as you kneeled down in front of him with the two bowls in hand. Scratch was up again too and sniffed curiously at the mixture for the kitten. But it was seemingly not much to his liking as he laid down again quickly.

“Should I set her down so she can feed and drink?”, Astarion asked you. He really seemed a bit overwhelmed with trying to care for the small furry thing. As she clawed at him again a soft “oww” left his lips. “We can at least try but we should pay attention Scratch doesn’t get too close. He would probably be a bit much for our newcomer”, you said and looked at the dog tentatively. But Scratch seemed to have taken the hint and had laid down a bit further and had just started to snooze peacefully.

Astarion slowly and carefully lifted the kitten from his chest, having to remove a claw or two with his fingers. He sighed as he looked down and saw some loosened threads in the embroidery: “I’m going to have to patch that up later.” Then he sat the small one down in front of the bowls. But the vampire did not let go f the small animal before he let one finger caressingly run over the creature’s head and down it’s back. He almost seemed scared that it would run off. But the kitten did not. If anything, she seemed to even enjoy the vampire’s pets.

“She’s so weird. Animals usually don’t feel very comfortable around me – you know, the whole vampirism thing… They feel it”, Astarion said absent-mindedly while he watched the cat slowly check out the two bowls. His red eyes were still observing her, a small warm smile was playing on his lips. Your own heart swelled with affection seeing how much he cared for this small being.

“Where did you find her?”, you asked. The vampire reached out to the kitten again, softly stroking her why she drank a little water. The small blue eyes were wandering around the surroundings – cautiously. But she still moved up her head to get more of the vampire’s pets. “I guess she likes you”, you said with a smile and kept your eyes on her before the Astarion could answer your previous question. “Trust me to get someone to purr”, he smirked. “Eww Astarion, not the time”, you moaned. You only received a chuckle and a smirk in response.

“I heard some meowing while everyone was scurrying from the rain in a small alley. I thought I was imagining it at first but there she was, a small little kitten, sitting alone in a small basket. It was completely drenched and it didn’t look like its mother was still around. Maybe she was the runt of the litter. I… just couldn't leave her there, all alone and cold, in the dark”, Astarion explained, his eyes miles away as he remembered the situation. But you could quickly see that that wasn’t the only thing. It was apparent why he felt for the lost little creature.

“You have a big heart, Astarion”, you told him sincerely which made his gaze flick to yours. But his eyes immediately left yours again. He surely didn’t believe what you said himself. At least not yet. That was okay though, you would tell him again and again until he didn’t doubt himself anymore.

The kitten meanwhile was trying to feed from the mixture you had concocted but it seemed she was only really getting the stuff on her adorable little face.

Astarion kept observing her a little bit more, cocking his head. Then he shook his head and softly grabbed the small creature again. “It’s not going to work like this, little one, if you only keep rubbing your face in your food”, he said affectionately as he made to hold her with one hand. With the other he took some of the mixture with one of his fingers and then held it to the kitten’s snout.

And surely, after a few seconds she licked it off the vampire’s fingers. A big smile crept onto your face and your heart grew in size while you watched the scene. Scratch also had slowly come back and was pushing his nose under your arm so you would let him rest his head on your lap again. You allowed it and kept watching how Astarion slowly fed the kitten. She’d quickly grown more eagerly and had started using her teeth too.

“Oww, will you stop biting me, you mean little thing”, Astarion exclaimed and shook his hand. “Serves you right, now you know how it feels”, you immediately threw in. The pale elf threw you a glance, saying “are you even serious”, but he kept allowing the cat to feed of his fingers until she seemed sated and her eyes grew heavy.

The vampire grabbed the towel that still laid next to him and lightly rubbed the mess of the kitten’s face. You offered Astarion the blanket from before to make an improvised bed for the small one on which he placed the cat carefully so she could get some rest.

“She’ll need a name if we’re going to keep her”, you said as you both watched the fur ball breathe softly. “Well, we already have a dog called Scratch, maybe we can call her Bite”, Astarion replied with a grin. You made a face at him and left the topic for the time being.

“What a fine assortment of strays we are, don’t you think, my love?”, Astarion asked then and looked at you with warmth in his eyes. You leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Fine, yes”, you answered as you made to lay down and put your head into Astarion’s lap. “But we’re not strays anymore, we’re home now”, you said with a smile and looked up at your soulmate. The vampire let his hands cup your cheeks and ran his thumbs over them lovingly: “And how sweet it is being home with you, my heart.”

Bonus: Enjoy this sweet little creature stare directly into your soul!

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #baldur's gate iii #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #astarion x you #poro writes #kittens!

[wayfayrr]

Self-conscious captain

the next self aware link and this time it's the captain my favourite boy, warriors!

[masterlist]

“Hey [Name], I’ve been going through some of my old games to clear things out. I found my copy of Hyrule Warriors and wanted to know if you’d like it?”

“I thought that was one of your favourites though, what’s come into you to give it away like this? Do you want anything for it, I’d feel bad simply taking from you.”

“Nah I got it as a gift anyway, I beat the game and did everything there is to do. Plus I know you’ve been wanting to play it anyway, so please have it.”

There’s something off about this, between how skitterish they’re acting and the fact they’re so willing - that they’re so desperate for me to take their favourite game from them? I’ve got nothing else to go off of though, and they are right I have been planning to buy it. They wouldn’t be offering if they didn’t want me to have it so what is there to lose?

“If you’re sure then. I can’t wait to play through it myself rather than watching you.”

Is there such a thing as too much relief? Because if there is then that was definitely it, with how their shoulders relaxed; all the tension left their body as they handed me the game. Why does this feel like the start of a creepypasta, am I simply gonna go home then suddenly there’s some new version of Ben drowned for me to deal with? I won’t know until I play I guess, but it might be fun. 

There’s no better time than now to learn though, I’ve got the whole afternoon to myself anyway so why not? Putting the game into my switch; booting it all up it seems fine, so there’s nothing there that should have messed with them. It’s up until the first cutscene for anything to even show up that could be wrong. Link’s eyes seem to be focusing on me far more than they should during it, more than what should be possible, with more of a smile than he usually does during this too. Then I finally get to the level.

I can’t control Link, the game seems to be frozen, not a single bokoblin moving, Link is still moving, the camera isn’t even focused on him now and he’s moving closer to the screen. 

“Honeybee? You’re here! I knew your friend would cave pretty face when I pressed them. It’s so nice to have you here alone with me!”

“...What.”

“Oh it’s all alright dear, I did think you’d be a little shocked at first because, well I mean I know this isn’t something that happens very often. Would you be against getting to know me better though?”

What. The. Hell. No wonder they were so eager to pawn the game off to me, a living character that seems to be obsessed with me? If the roles were switched then I’d be throwing it at them as quickly as I could, I’m amazed they could even keep calm for long enough to hand it to me without seeming any more suspicious than they did, he threatened them he’s already admitted that stop lying to yourself [name]. Why does he even want me over the person who actually played as him? None of this makes any sense. 

“I - No I wouldn’t, actually could I ask you some questions too? Just y’know, try to get my head around all of this.”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t ask me any, I mean right now? You’re treating me more like an actual person than anyone else ever has.” 

“...”

“Where would you like to start then honeybee? We can take this at your pace, you’re in full control here.”

Where should I start? There are so many different things I want answers to, I could stay here for hours just talking to him to find out everything; now that I think on that, it’s not like I have anything else planned today. I could simply just stay here for a bit and talk, it’s probably the safer option too. If I don’t, do I really want to test the sanity of a sentient game character, no. 

“Um, if it’s all up to me then. Can I ask when you first became aware? Of the fact that you’re you know, a character in a game.”

“Oh, that? Well, it was about three months ago now, two or so weeks before you played with them. They really just saw me as a toy, not caring if I got hurt or anything, which is fair they never knew I was anything more than that; but you didn’t know either and you treated me like a person. You always apologised whenever I took any damage, never tried to get me hurt for your own pleasure or replace me as soon as you could. It was only a matter of time until I started to want you, then it was fairly easy to get eyes in your phone.”

“You've got ‘eyes in my phone?’ what do you mean by that.”

He looks so pleased right now like he wanted me to ask that exact question, it’s such a smug look on his face too. There’s something else to it as well, I can’t pinpoint what but there is certainly another look on his face. With how emotive he is it really doesn’t feel like this is some kind of sick joke, he’s too alive.

“That’s one of the things I’m most proud of!! It was pretty easy when you linked your phone to their switch to download a photo, I just made part of that connection a bit more personal and permanent. I promise I didn’t listen in on anything too private, I swear on Nintendo that I’m not like Cia. I promise.”

“Moving on from… that then. Why’s the real reason you wanted to be with me like this, I mean I get the feeling there’s more to it than you’re letting on.”

“You caught me I actually wa-”

The scowl that crossed his face when he was interrupted by the doorbell was unlike the cheery demeanour he’s been using, it’s almost like he’s angry or jealous of me having my attention split from him; it barely lasts a second though. Before his face swaps to one of remorse possibly because he got so irritated over something so trivial, that needs my focus more than he does right now. 

“I think you already know, but I should go check that. I’ll only be a couple of minutes, it’s probably nothing after all.”

Not even a word, just a nod and a look of rejection as if he was a cat I’d had to move off of me when I turned to go and answer the door. True to my word it wasn’t something that going to take long, simply signing for a couple of parcels. It only took me a few minutes to collect it and then start heading back to my room, I’ll be able to open them while I talk to Link after all. Really it would be cruel to make him wait after everything else he’s been through, even if he’s been monitoring… most of my movements, is it bad that I still feel bad after knowing that?

A shrill yelp followed by a shattering sound right when I was about to go back in wasn’t the best sign, the worst thing is that this time there wasn’t a digital overlay. Did someone break in - or break out? Only one way to find out.

“Honeybee? I - I’m sorry I - I really was trying to keep it in one piece.”

He’s out of the game.

Link is in my room bawling his eyes out because he accidentally broke my LED screen, the hero of hyrule is standing in my bedroom crying his eyes out because he broke a piece of glass. Earlier there was always a feeling of him trying to come off as likeable to me, to the point where it was manipulative, he wouldn’t even consider the idea of me not liking him. Now it’s like he’s having a panic attack at the possibility that I won’t like him because he broke my monitor. 

“I - I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Please - just - I - I didn’t mean to break it.”

“Link -”

“My clothes would probably be worth a fortune to someone right? I - I mean it’s an actual set of armour from the Hyrulian forces - it’s real chainmail. If you sell it - it’ll more than make up the cost, right? You won’t hate me if I did that, right?”

“Link. I don’t hate you, it was an accident and even if it wasn’t I would forgive you.”

That seemed to snap him out of it, if only a little; he’s still crying but now he’s not rambling about ways to make it up to me. He clearly seems to want me, even if I still don’t entirely get why so maybe I could; opening my arms proves the fact that he really does just want some affection. Waiting wasn’t even on the cards as he practically dove into my arms barely seconds after looking at me for permission. 

“You really don’t hate me then? Really? Even though I’m not as good as the other games?”

“I don’t hate you for wanting to get out of what was essentially your prison or - you being as good as the other games? Your game is different but it’s just as good”

“But - you and your friend both said it. I - I’m not canon. You still treated me well that‘s why I fell for you, but I’m still - I’m still less than the other games. So I just, I really wanted to prove to you that I can be the only one for you [name]”

Stroking his hair seems to be calming him down now, the tears are slowing and his breathing is evening out the longer I stay here with him; only a few more moments until I should be able to get some answers from him. Adjusting to having a roommate might be a little strange, he really does seem nice though, nicer than anyone else I’ve ever met. Wait no I’ve only really just met him, why am I already thinking about that? It’s something to consider for certain - oh come on, just admit to yourself that you love this. He cares so why not see where it all goes?

“Canon just describes the story, it doesn’t change anything about you and I’m sorry if it’s ever seemed like that link. Come on, I'll clean the glass up, then you can finish explaining things okay?”

“No wait, it’s my fault, let me clean it up for you. If nothing else, please honey.”

“You don’t have to, it’s not a bother.”

So he already knows his teary puppy face can get me to agree to anything, he’s been here for less than a few hours and it already feels like we’re in a relationship as he knows me inside out… Which makes sense given that he has been watching me through my phone. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad if I stopped fighting against what he’s offering.  The gloves he’s wearing make picking up shards less painful than it would be otherwise, doesn’t take him that long either.

Long enough for something to flicker on my switch, but that can wait.

#these boys have my heart and soul #changed my brain chemistry since the first one I wrote for sky #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #yandere link #self aware lu #self aware au #yandere x reader #lu warriors #lu warriors x reader #moss✦writes

[coffe-and-tea-time]

Lovesick! Doctor x Reader

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ You need a proper care, Dear ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Hi, Coffee speaking! We both got a cold and I wanted to indulge a bit, I also got a little obsession with Lovesick! Wally ngl but I choose to start with the doctor expect me to write for a Lovesick! Patient soon

Hi, Tea speaking! We actually were also saying nonsense about humanized Pepsi (my favorite soda) and 7UP (Coffee's favorite) so yeah (why does my twin drool over a muppet?)

btw, this isn't edited due to Tea still being really sick, so do expect weird sentence structure/words or misspells, sorry in advance, just one twin absorbs all the intelligence in the womb and that was certainly not me/j

tw: this dude shouldn't be a doctor, yandere behavior, drugging, manipulation, kinda paranoia? , reader doesn't know anything is happening, written in you/yours (this is just fiction, I don't really know about medications I just research a bit to write this)

It was only a cold, you just need to go to the doctor to get the certificate and maybe some paracetamol and then leave, easy, isn't it?

As you walk in the hallways of the hospital you turn right, having a hard time trying to find yourself in this big hospital, but it seems like you were right, as you bump into a doctor, your doctor.

"dear? What are you doing here? Here is no place to wander off!"

The panic in his voice is easily noticeable, as if you walk into a horror movie and choose to separate from the group without telling anyone.

“I’m sorry doctor, I just got a little disoriented here and there and ended up here..”

You don’t really get why he reacted like that, it's a hospital anyway, the worst thing that could happen is that you enter into an operating room but there is always a sign on them… I think?

“huh, I see Anyways, don’t worry, it's just that there is no place to wander around, let me guide you towards the other floor again. I will take you in right away, is that cold of yours keep bothering?”

“Yeh, it’s seems like everyday it’s getting worse, I don’t think I could be outside of my house too much without getting a bit dizzy”

You started talking about your recent problems because of your stupid cold that doesn't seem to faze away, the path to his consultory felt shorter than you could remember but well, guess it’s normal that happens when you're focused on talking, isn't it? You choose to just blame your mind and take a seat in the neat room as the doctor talks.

“Seems like the symptoms are getting worse… too much slowly”

“I’m sorry doctor, what did you say? I didn’t really catch the last part”

You say rather chill than you should, the first part was about your cold being worse, isn't it? Well, that’s true, kinda makes you wonder if it really is a cold but not wanting to sound like a hypochondriac, plus, the doctor is peacefully researching something in one of his drawers although you can't really see his face since his back is turned to you.

“Oh, I was just commenting how you are having a really rough time, I was thinking about giving you a different medication before it gets even worse. I would rather if you sit for a little, like 15 to 20 minutes before leaving after taking it, I’m really worried about you, you look lost in thought, it’s doesn't really appear like you are here with me right now…”

Well, what he says is right, your mind seems all over the place these days, good for you to have such an attentive doctor. He hands you a pill and a glass of water.

“This is Benadryl, it's just an allergy medicine, but can give some sleepiness. I ask you to sit and wait because of that, isn’t a real problem feeling sleepy but I want to make sure it doesn’t trigger your dizziness. I change the medication because I think you can have more of an allergy than a cold due to your symptoms that are also not fading away and even getting stronger, you see, it’s normal to find allergies or develop them as you grow..."

As he keeps explaining complex things, you just wonder what to blame if it happens to be the cause of an allergy as you take the pill with the help of the water. You two keep talking peacefully, as you wait for the time to pass, it seems like the doctor was right in seeing it coming that you were gonna get kinda sleepy. Does this doctor not have any other appointment or something?

“Well, and that's about it, any questions?”

You started to feel more tired, your head felt heavy, but well, the doctor warned you about it, so you try to ignore it and wait for it to just pass.

“To be honest, yes, but this is more out of personal curiosity, what was the floor where I was earlier before you found me? It was really empty for a hospital…”

… Are you moving or are things in the room suddenly alive? You get a little surprised and try to stand up to check your own condition without thinking about it though. You feel like you lost your balance, as if all around you is spinning, the doctor is fast to come beside you, ready to grab you if you happen to fall.

“Don’t worry about it, you couldn't see any people because it's a floor for rather special inpatients we deal with. Focus on you now, what’s your name? How many fingers am I holding up?”

You try to fight to keep yourself awake, yet before you could answer his questions, your vision went dark and you finally lost consciousness.

". . ."

He holds you so tenderly, avoiding your unconscious head to get hit and end up with a contusion or something like that.

“Rohypnol is really quick to act, huh? Don’t worry Dear, I will make sure you won’t need to deal with stressful stuff from today on, that would get you here in the end anyways, I’m just avoiding you some pain…”

He gently kisses your forehead before notifying through the phone in the room that someone fainted and will require admission to the hospital.

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

#Coffee speaking #yandere doctor #reader insert #yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere imagines #yandere oc #oc #male yandere #yandere writing #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #random #oblivious reader #yandere x darling #tw drugs #yandere x you #obsessive love #otome #stalker #soft yandere #silly #silly writing #oc x reader #x reader #dark romance #yanderecore #yandere drabble #lovesick

[honeydippedwaffles]

Smallest Drop - Part 3

Summary: Tav knew she was falling for him in some ways but she didn't realise just how bad it had become until she got shot in the leg while killing a vampire hunter for him.

Meanwhile, Astarion really doesn't understand Tav and her strange solutions to problems and ignoring it really isn't working well.

I've already planned a part 4 because I'm addicted. Tav is not mentioned by name.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 3k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Though she tried her utmost to appreciate every environment they explored (if only because she would otherwise go crazy), she couldn’t find much she liked about the swamp. Not even with its sweetened flowers, warm sunlight, and strange sheep.

She was almost a thousand percent sure those were polymorphed humans but she refused to worry about them yet. Whatever had created them surely would reveal itself and for now, she focused on the bigger problem before her.

A monster hunter standing before her with a friendly smile on his face and a laugh echoing across the swamp as though he hadn’t threated one of her companions.

He may not know what he’d done but it put her on edge regardless.

She made sure not to look at Astarion, a subliminal concern in her. She refused to give too much attention in case it drew his gaze over to those glinting red eyes or faded but very obvious scars nestled against pale skin.

Instead, she stepped forward and demanded all the attention she could with a loud voice and a smile. “Sounds awfully boring,” she said. “To hunt one creature for so long and not make any progress. Hardly even a challenge or thrill to just slowly camp somewhere and wait.”

The hunter chuckled and she seethed. “The first thing you learn in my line of work is never underestimate your opponent. This spawn has been eluding me for quite some time.”

She tried to keep her expression neutral but struggled. Even in her best moods, she couldn’t hide what she thought and the anxiety in her chest was stronger than ever. Maybe he would think the worry in her face showcased a fear of the creature rather than of him.

“Only a spawn?” she asked. “Pity. Not like it’s a real vampire. There’s little glory to be had in such a hunt.”

He frowned at the accusation in her tone and raised an eyebrow, perhaps confused by the hostility in her voice.

Before he could answer though, Astarion drawled, “I don’t know. I’m sure a vampire spawn could still rip your throat out if he felt like it.”

She couldn’t help a slight smile. Though perhaps not happy, he didn’t sound nervous which meant they fight should be easy. Lae’zel, bored as she was, never complained about further bloodshed and undoubtedly this hunter had no experience facing a gith sword.

Her own bloodthirstiness surprised her. Rarely did she feel the desire to spill blood quite as intensely as she did now and no guilt followed. This man dared to threaten somebody she cared for and she immediately moved to murder.

She really needed to be careful of the strange hold Astarion had on her.

“He is right, unfortunately. They’re only weak when compared to their masters. During the day we have the advantage but when night falls, you will not find a more dangerous quarry.”

She pretended to wince. “Awful for somebody like you to hunt something so fierce when you appear barely able to fight one of these sheep. Should I not worry about one of these spawn creeping up on you when you least expect it?”

The hunter appeared thoroughly offended and Lae’zel snorted in what she had started to learn may be a laugh.

“Well, we’ve stayed alive so far so perhaps we can focus on that.” Astarion reminded her of a cat playing with a mouse. But the cat also hovered far away from the potential battle, uncertain.

“It’ll be safer for you to keep patrols at night,” the hunter warned. “Just in case it tries anything.”

“I don’t think I will.”

He tried to be friendly and helpful but now he simply frowned. She almost felt bad for turning rude and abrasive, noticed how her response made him a little more uncomfortable but not enough to reach for a weapon. Her hand however drifted closer to her blade.

Morals said she should provide him a false lead and send him on a wild chase far away from her party.

Her brain said he may be a threat. If he doubled back or found out about her deception, he could sneak into their camp and take Astarion before she noticed.

And her heart told her if she let him go, Astarion wouldn’t relax again. He may not even stay in the area if he thought the hunter lurked nearby – too jumpy and flighty to stick around their group.

Her morals would need to keep quiet until she dealt with this.

“Maybe we should take him up on his recommendation,” Astarion suggested. “Or deal with this threat now.”

“Take him out before he hurts anybody,” she said and it was an agreement.

The hunter waved his hands quickly. “Oh, I wouldn’t recommend hunting a vampire spawn if you have no experience. You may be a strong fighter but I doubt you’d be able to challenge one.”

“I wasn’t speaking about Astarion,” she said. “If he wanted me dead, he’s had ample opportunities so far.”

Astarion hummed, almost chuckling. “You’re not wrong. It’s lucky that you’ve proven yourself far more useful alive.”

The hunter’s gaze slowly drifted between her and Astarion and her grip tightened on her blade. “That’s impossible,” he said as he reached for his crossbow. “There’s no way you’re –“

She stepped forward and slipped the blade free. Steel sunk deep into flesh and he choked out a garbled, surprised sound as his throat split open. Disgusting.

Blood sprouted from his neck and down his chest as he fell backwards, eyes wide with shock. But she had been too confident and she didn’t notice how he’d managed to get his crossbow out; how he pulled the trigger even as the last of the dark red pulsed from his throat.

The bolt stabbed directly through her thigh. It drove straight through the leather and pierced the flesh beneath even as the others drew their weapons to assist in a battle she’d already won.

She collapsed to one knee as his body thumped against the ground with a few ragged gasps. This was scarcely her first time being shot by a crossbow bolt but something must have coated the weapon. Poison or enchantment, she didn’t know but the pain and the weakness spread fast through her body and her blade fell onto the soft grass below.

“Are you alright?” Wyll arrived at her side first, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him through gritted teeth. “He’s dead right?”

“From what I could see,” Astarion said with a dramatic sigh. “Well, that’s a pity. I wanted to kill him myself.”

She ignored him and put a bit of pressure on the site of the injury. Her muscles burned fiercely as she decided to leave the bolt in for now. Rather not pull it out when she didn’t know what clung to it.

She slowly stood and blood pulsed down her leg in thick rivers. It slicked the area between her armour and left awful, sticky trails.

No visiting the strange old woman it would appear. She refused to explore a swamp when her leg felt like this.

She stepped forward and hissed in pain, just about collapsing once more if it hadn’t been for Wyll’s support on her back. Definitely something strange about this one.

“We do have spare health potions,” he said as he looked at the bolt. “But this has some magic on it. We should get back to the camp to make sure it isn’t going to deal any long-term damage.”

“I like that idea,” she admitted with a strained and uncomfortable laugh. “It’s a little sore.”

Over the past few days, she’d had many close calls with many weapons but this wooziness… she hated it. The air around her swam as she limped her way along the ridiculously long road back to their camp, reassuring her companions with soft words which held no purchase. Even they could see the way the energy drained from her body with each step.

She accepted only the occasional of assistance from Wyll and tried to make it appear as though the injury didn’t bother her.

Honestly, it had been her fault entirely. She should have noticed the crossbow and been more aware of when he pulled it free. Anger clouded her vision then and still did as they walked back.

The audacity of such a man who dared to threaten her friends… he agitated her even now when he lay on the floor, destined to be anything more than food for the various animals in the area.

Astarion didn’t return her occasional glances nor did he offer help.

She hoped he hadn’t become upset at her actions. Though he may have wanted to kill the hunter himself, she had seen an opportunity and taken it before anybody got hurt.

Well, aside from her.

The enchantment on the bold got removed swiftly but her body needed time to recover and the evening passed uncomfortably. Every muscle burned and her breaths came in soft, quick succession. She tried to keep her complaints quiet and not bother any companions. She had the antidote; she had a bandage. Now all she had to do was wait.

And wait.

The night’s hours stretched long as she lay in her tent. She prayed for sleep to find her but the ache in her bones and the burning pain refused to allow her an opportunity forward.

The footsteps distracted her from her twisting and turning. For somebody so akin to sneaking around, Astarion had stopped doing it after he’d given her a heart attack and she ended up headbutting him. He’d complained non-stop over it for at least an hour but now he didn’t sneak around anymore.

He stepped through the entrance of her tent, his hair haloed in moonlight. The night suited him as well as the day did. He looked practically ethereal as he drifted into her tent, every bit the predator she’d been warned about.

“Well, don’t you look like an absolute mess.”

She rolled her eyes and tilted her head away from him. “And it’s all because of you.”

“Me? It’s hardly my fault the man had a poisoned crossbow. You could have dodged it, you know. I’ve seen you twist your way out of worse hits than that.”

Almost always because of luck but she wouldn’t tell him as much. Instead, she offered him a small smile and tried to stop the tremble in her limbs. At least the pain felt lighter than before.

“Aren’t you meant to be cured or whatever by now?” he asked.

“Shadowheart said it’ll heal up by the morning at latest. I just have to last until then.” Exhausted of lying down, she pulled herself up into a sitting position, leaning against her travelling chest with her legs stretched out. “I’m surprised you came to visit. Are you worried?”

He put his hand to his heart and smiled. “You wound me. Of course, I’m worried. It’s not every day I find somebody dedicated enough to slice a man’s throat in my name.”

“The others would have done the same to keep you safe.”

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t trust any of them with catching a spider.”

She laughed. Though he complained, they were growing on him and she didn’t even need to prompt him to join their impromptu gatherings anymore.

“They like you.”

He ignored her comment and instead spoke of something else. “I believe my old master sent the hunter. He wants me back under his thumb, as I expected. This won’t be the only person he sends and not all will go down so easily.”

“I won’t get distracted next time then,” she laughed.

“Distracted?”

She gestured at him, knowing better than to voice the protectiveness for what it was. She didn’t understand it much either. “I’ve always told you how pretty you are. Now look what those sharp eyes have done. I couldn’t stop looking at them.”

She could play his game too. Offer him compliments and flattery instead of truth when he felt vulnerable.

“You can’t distract me with compliments,” he scoffed.

“Oh, I absolutely can.”

If she had the energy to do so, she would have continued but the wound pulsed in pain and she turned her attention to it, pressing against the soft skin to try and make it stop. The red bandage twisted her stomach into knots but it had stopped bleeding after a while.

Astarion appeared close to her unexpectedly, close enough to kiss with the smallest smirk on his face.

“You must try to stop yourself from getting hurt like this,” he said, trailing the faintest brush over her thigh. “It’s a waste of perfectly good blood. I almost couldn’t contain myself when I saw it running over your skin.”

She tried to laugh but it came out more exhausted than anything. “I’ll try but I make you no promises. My blood isn’t only yours.”

“Not yet. Perhaps the next time you give me the opportunity, I’ll drain it all so you can’t waste it.”

She tilted her head to the side to bear her throat, an exhausted but teasing smile in place. “I did say you could feed off me this morning, right? You’re welcome to take a bite now if you’re hungry.”

He appeared to not be able to tell if she joked or not. She smiled to tell him she was. Even if she had the blood to spare right now (and honestly, she didn’t), she doubted Astarion planned on feeding from her when he already felt as though he owed her some strange debt.

She’d noticed that about him. He only propositioned her when he felt as though he had to give her something in exchange.

It made her concerned.

He scoffed. “You couldn’t pay me enough. I can smell that rancid poison in your veins and it’s awful.”

She groaned and rolled her head back. “I hate this. It’s worse than that stupid apple I ate when we first entered the swamp and just as awful as when the goblin managed to sink its axe into my arm the other day. I thought I caught something from that at least.”

He chuckled. “Well, whatever magic was, it was likely intended for me so it probably won’t kill you.”

“If it’s going to kill me, I’d like it to get it over with. This pain is horrific.”

She expected him to leave soon but she took the opportunity to tap the spot beside her, asking him to sit down. What better company could she ask for? Elves didn’t sleep and despite pretending, Astarion certainly never allowed himself to meditate for very long at all.

“You’re very demanding, aren’t you?” Regardless, he took a seat and they lapsed into silence, punctuated only by her soft and somewhat shaky breaths.

She wanted to ask about the hunter. Wanted to know more about his old master and why he would be so desperate to claim a spawn back. Vampires could create as many spawn as they wanted to and he didn’t need to keep one at all times. It felt like a great deal of energy.

But as the silence stretched out, only one really bothered her enough to make her speak.

“Are you alright?”

“Obviously,” he laughed. “I’m not the one who got shot, was I?”

“No but I wouldn’t want to know a hunter is after me. I don’t want you to feel like you’re unsafe here.”

His smile turned bitter and unhappy as he answered that, his mouth twisted into a scowl. “Safe? Nowhere’s going to be safe as long as Cazador remains alive. The reach of a vampire lord goes far beyond what you may think.”

She may be a little light-headed for a proper conversation but she kept conscious, if unable to stop herself from leaning against his side. He was so cool. It felt amazing against the feverish nature of her skin and she wanted to hug him so badly.

“If he tries anything, I’ll make sure he doesn’t take you.”

He frowned at her and shifted his weight, not quite moving away from her but also not wholly embracing it. She hoped he would move away if he felt uncomfortable, as he did to a few of her other casual touches.

“You’re greatly misunderstanding the power he wields,” Astarion warned, his voice soft. “It would never be as simple as what we’ve seen so far. If he wanted to, he could stroll into this camp and whisk me away before you even noticed what had happened.”

Her solutions were a little scattered so she went for the easy one, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together before she could think about it.

“There,” she murmured. “If he tried to take you away now, I’ll notice immediately.”

Astarion’s muscles turned strangely tense and he made a small coughing sound, muttering something about how she would lose a hand then. She didn’t really hear it. Sleep crept up on her fast with the relaxing touch of his cool body and she lowered her head to his shoulder, eyes drifting closed.

When she woke in the morning, she lay alone in her tent beneath almost every blanket she owned and feeling brilliantly better. The pain faded and she felt ready to take on a hag.

Which incidentally is what they ended up doing. She spent the longest time afterwards wondering if she’d dreamed the previous night or not, distracted enough to nearly spill a bottle of unknown potion all over Gale. After a multitude of apologies, they made their way out and if Astarion’s hand brushed against the back of hers for a second, she didn’t mention it further.

Taglist: @venus-wrts @stephmundo @cassiopeia-adaar @escapistoftherealworld @scarletrosesposts @mavix

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Nine: The Pomegranate Theory

Summary: Jakes still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening with your health. Doctor Ignatii oversteps? And you settle in while Jake helps you write some of your newest book.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.

Word Count: 4.3K

Author Note: My birthday present to you all is a new chapter of Was It Over. Once again I just wanted to say thank-you all so very much for all the love and support you have given me throughout this series. It truly means the world to me.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The Pomegranate truly is the perfect symbol when comparing the differences between men and women. The enjoyment of a pomegranate is something that cannot and shouldn’t be rushed. Instead, it's something that requires patience and gentle hands. With deliberation and commitment comes the reward of its sweet, sweet flesh. 

When rushed, there is failure to collect all the seeds. Many men sacrifice the collection of its entirety for the sake of saving time. They'd rather risk the loss of a percentage of the fruit for immediate gratification. What we often fail to consider is that there may be a reason for the  dissimilarities between men and women. We tend to point out that the majority of men don't have the same attention to detail that women do instead of focusing on our individual strengths, and how they can balance and support each other. 

Instead, you chose, for the longest of times, to consider that your husband was willing to learn something that perhaps didn't come instinctively to him as it did to you. It's the energy you put into cutting and deseeding the metaphorical pomegranate that represented your marriage, but Jake never seemed to want to learn how to carefully harvest all those beautiful seeds. 

You and Jake both collectively brought so much to your marriage, you both had something to learn from one another in order to grow. But choosing resentment when you decided to step away from the man you loved more than life itself was never an option. 

Because resentment always leads to isolation: 

“Okay small steps for me Y/n.” Doctor Ignatii asked as he held your arms and stood before you. Everything hurt, everything felt wrong. Everything was stiff and out of place, but the sooner you were up and walking even if it was only a few steps here and there–the quicker your recovery would be. Having a stroke wasn't exactly defined as a step in your cancer treatment plan. No, it came right out of the left field and took you, your mother and your doctors by total surprise. “That's it, small steps.” 

“I don't think I should keep going, it feels wrong.” Your body didn't feel like your own, the ground underneath your no-slip socks felt uneven. Your feet felt like lead–heavy and weak at the same time. Your head had maintained a dull ache since you woke up post surgery that hadn’t gone away. Overall you just didn't feel like yourself and it showed. 

“Your neurological pathways need time to re-adjust to normal.” Doctor Ignatii was hopeful you'd have a pretty smooth recovery, his worry about any deficits post stroke was at a pretty low concern level just based on how quickly they were able to react to the stroke itself. “Give yourself some time, I'll touch base with the plastics department and oncology to discuss your pre-op notes prior to your mastectomy.” Doctor Ignatii explained as Jake watched with crossed arms off to the side as you took a few uneasy steps around the room littered with Christmas lights and decorations for the holiday seasons. “It's gonna be a slow but steady recovery, we just wanna make sure prior to your mastectomy that your body can handle the additional stress it's placed under while in surgery. The fact you're taking baby steps right now is a really good sign.” 

“Can I have a shower soon by any chance?” All you wanted was to not feel sticky and gross. “Is that in the realm of possibility any time soon?” 

“Only if you try to walk to the bathroom.” Doctor Ignittii replied with a quick wit you appreciated, he wasn't treating you like a sudden gust of a strong wind your be knocked on your sare and you truly appreciated the vote of confidence from your doctor. “But sure, I don't have any problem with you showering, maybe ask for some help?” Doctor Ignatii gestured over to where Jake stood just watching over you. He kept his respective distance but his eyes never left yours. He’s yet to leave your side for more than twenty minutes to grab something to eat, drink and take a deep breath. He was still trying to process how quickly things had changed. 

“Happy to help.” Jake teased as he sent you a wink, the half sided smirk was prevalent across his flustered but composed face. “Respectfully.” 

“Respectfully–” You replied as you stood on your own, Doctor Ignatti had stepped aside to let you take the lead. “You need to call our children and let them know you haven't abandoned them at their grandmother's house.”

“I should do that, shouldn't I?” Jake sighed, he'd been avoiding the call all together. With it being Christmas Eve Eve and your surgery still going ahead as planned, it was a call Jake wasn't looking forward to making. 

“I think it might be a good idea–” You slowly but surely sat down on the edge of your hospital bed, the IV poll you were gripping for dear life pumped against the side before Jake stepped a little closer to fix the tangled wires and cords. “Thanks.” You smiled softly as you watched him work.

“I'll let you know how our pre-op meeting goes, Mrs Seresin.” Doctor Ignatti interrupted with a quick tight lipped smile. “And–” Jake raised an eyebrow as your doctor paused in his tracks. “Although probably unsolicited, I've seen too many families come through these halls to know time is a fickle thing, if your kids aren't aware of your current situation, I favour the side of full transparency, no matter the age.” 

You didn't know how to respond so you said nothing and settled on a simple nod with kind eyes to match. Jake however, wasn't as graceful with his snarky growl. He was the very embodiment of a protective German Shepherd with his guard up.

“It's a good thing we didn't ask for your opinion then isn't it.” Jake snapped, he didn't mean to take his insecurities out on the man who had if nothing else saved your life.he was still trying to figure out who this Jensen guy was. But he did and it made you frown with shock horror that such a snarky comment would come from your husband's mouth.

“You’re right, I overstepped.” Doctor Ignatti held it hands up as if to say he was sorry. “I apologise, I'll be back later with an update for you.” You said nothing, you simply chose to remain silent until your doctor had left the room and silence had once again fallen over you and Jake. 

“I didn't mean–” Jake wanted to say he didn't mean to be so snappy. That he really didn't mean to bite the hand that saved his wife, But you 

“You meant it.” The tone you used broke right through the exterior of Jake's hardened shell. Despite his inability to make it known that all Jake was trying to do in that very moment was show a united front on your decision to keep your family, your husband and subsequently your children in the dark about your current situation—he still helped you back into bed, tucked your legs under the Blau and fixed your pillows. “And he’s right you know, whether we want to hear it or not the kids probably need to know why you left so abruptly.” Jake's phone had been ringing off the hook since he left his mother's house. Jasmine was persistent regardless if Jake was answering or not. Constant texts, missed calls, updates on the kids she knew he was thankful for despite his missing in action status. 

“You wanna tell the kids what’s going on?” You and Jake hadn’t really discussed it, he was following your lead on this one. Jake didn’t want to overstep any boundaries you’d set he wasn’t aware of, or had unintentionally forgotten about. He was holding off on everything, telling his sister what the hell was going on, telling his mother more than she ever deserved to know, telling the kids their mum was a little sick. 

“No—no, I wanna tell the kids, for now, that I’m just a little sick and that’s why I needed you here more than they needed you over the next few days.” You explained your view. “I don't want them panicking about me, they're young, too young to need to know the severity of the situation.” 

“Not telling them doesn't make the truth any less real, Honey–what if we tell them and–“ Jake never got a chance to finish his sentence, he never got a chance to say that if you didn’t want to tell your kids he’d support your decision regardless if he agreed or not before you interrupted to explain where you were coming from. 

“They don't need to know Jake, I can't tell them, I can't tell my children that I might be dying alright I just can't.” You were a little more harsh than need be, but the emotional weight of the situation was taking a toll on you. “But I wasn’t about to bite my brain surgeon's head off for offering a valid opinion on a rough situation.” 

“You know what?” Jake cooed as he reached out to touch your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing your soft skin. The gentle touch brought you a solace you'd never truly understand as Jake's emerald eyes swirled with all the love and admiration in the world. “You’re right.” Jake didn't want to argue, not now, not when he could tell your emotions were running high and life seemed like it was against you. You needed him in your corner, for better or worse. “I’ll call Jas, I'll tell her what's going on, full God's honest truth and then we’ll tell the kids that you're just a little sick.” 

“Just a little–” You replied with tears in your eyes, they were pooling at your lower lash line, ready to spill and open the flood gates. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you.” Jake listened as the pad of his thumb worked to catch the falling tears that cascaded down your cheek. “I should have–you needed to know.”

“I understand why you didn't.” Jake sighed as he sat by your bed side. “I wasn't–” he began to explain but shortly after changed what he was about to say. “I put myself in a position where I could lose you, and I shouldn't have, you and me and whatever our marriage is right now isn't the priority so just know I'm not saying this to fix that.” Jake cooed as he felt his eyes watering. “Right now all that matters is that we focus on you and your health and making sure you are the only priority.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“I got you one of those pant by numbers kits and some lego flowers I thought you might be able to do to fill the time.” Your mother wore a fake smile so painfully obvious that it made your heart want to burst inside your chest. This wasn't and hadn't been easy on her, carrying the burden of being the only one who knew about your diagnosis. Now, as Jake sat by your bedside, your mother wanted nothing more than to tell him how thankful she was that she now had someone else to carry the weight with. 

But Mary wasn't about to do that, no. She wouldn't make the situation about her. But watching her little girl go through something she wouldn't wish upon her worst enemy was brutal. 

“That's really nice of you mum, you didn't have to do that.” Jake frowned momentarily when he heard you say that go to line. ‘You didn't have to do that.’ It was a sentence he hadn’t heard in a long time. You always used to say it, Jake just wasn't sure when you had stopped saying it to him. There wasn’t an awful lot of things he was going out of his way to do that would earn him a bashful or somewhat self deprecating response like that. 

“I know, but I saw them at Target and thought they might keep you occupied.” Your mothers smile faded just slightly as she placed your presents under the small christmas tree that sat on the top of the small cupboard that could be used to house clothing and personal items patients brought with them. You hadn't paid much mind to unpacking, all you had managed was your toiletries. But your mother had gone above and beyond to make the space you were taking up residency in a little more homie. “How’re you feeling anyway?” 

“I'm alright, a little stiff but Doctor Ignatii said that's to be expected, he’ll be back soon to help with the first few steps.” You knew your mother wasn't really prying about a health update, but more about a romantic one. Her eyes quickly darted to where Jake still sat holding your hand in his. He was afraid that if he let go that you'd disappear. Or worse. “A little shocked to find out my children are still in Texas but I'm sure given the circumstances I'll manage.” 

“Well at least they're supervised and with family, that's all that matters.” Your mother replied as she pushed a little of your hair behind your ear. “Have you given any more thought about cutting your hair?” 

“You were thinking about cutting your hair?” Jake finally managed the courage to jump into the conversation, he still felt like an intruder of some sort. He was still trying to process everything, the very idea that you were battling an aggressive form of breast cancer along with the fact you'd suffered a very recent stroke was all too much for his brain to comprehend. 

“I'm gonna lose it all anyway.” You shrugged as you pressed your lips together in a thin line. “May as well get ahead of the curve and shave it all off before it falls out.” Hair holds memories, in some cultures it's even considered sacred. In some religions women cover their hair after marriage for only their husbands to see, others keep theirs pure and untreated by dyes. Some women of colour from countries across the world prefer to wear their hair in protective styles that give their hair longevity and life. 

But you? You were losing yours. The keratin in your follicles had stopped reproducing, your follicles were dying off and snapping. It was a hard pill to swallow if you were being completely honest, but if shaving your hair off before you were subjected to looking like your daughters weird barbie doll was something that could help you maintain whatever dignity you had left, you were going to do it, regardless if you were slightly worried about your head being an odd shape. It beats you know, dying after all. 

“Doctor Ignatii already took a pretty big chunk anyway from the surgery.” Your mother added. “Besides, it's a little more empowering to shave it yourself than losing it over time.” Jake understood, so he didn't argue. It was your choice at the end of the day. “Now, I'm not staying for too long, I thought I'd head back to yours, tidy up, make sure the house is in order for when you're able to go home.” Before you had a chance to argue or say she didn't have to, Jake was advocating on your behalf. 

“Thanks Maz, that's perfect.” He smiled softly as the pad of his thumb rubbed against your hand. All you did was nod along in agreement, it did sound nice. Unnecessary in your humble opinion, but nice. 

It wasn't long after that your mother was saying her goodbyes to the both of you for the day, being along with Jake wasn't awkward, but it did feel a little uneasy with so much still left to discuss. All the potential what if’s and could be’s. 

“Can you please pass me my laptop?” You were the first one to break the silence that had fallen between the two of you, only the steady threthem of monitors could be heard amongst the thick silence. 

“You still working on that book?” Jake asked rather tentatively, it was a touchy subject. If you said yes then that meant you hadn't had time to finish it before your due date. Jake knew he played more of a role in that then he’d like to admit, but the idea you were still working on the same book meant the separation truly hadnt boded well in your favour to focus on your career. For Jake however, it had opened up another career advancement. The Daggers. 

“Uh yeah actually I am.” You sat up a little straighter in your bed and fixed up the blanket covering your legs. “I shelved it there for a little while.” The explanation truly was just that, you hadn't really had all that much time to work on a new publication while trying to raise three children on your own. “I picked it up again around August, just haven't made much progress with it with everything that's been going on.” 

“Do you feel like sharing some exclusive details with your number one fan?” Jake was almost unashamed in his attempt at breaking down your walls. “Who knows, I might be able to inspire some creativity.” 

“Oh you're my number one fan now are you?” You chuckled softly as you watched Jake reached into the drawer your mother had put your laptop and charger in. “And there isn't much creative freedom when it comes to writing a bibliography for true crime, unless you count ghoulish overkill and an absurd use of dark humour to cover up the truly graphic details of the world's most notorious crimes.” Jake smiled back at you as he held your laptop in one hand, the rose gold Mac with stickers randomly pleased all over the lid. 

“Don't be fooled by the good looks Honey, I can read a sentence or two without stuttering.” 

“Could've fooled me.” You fired back without hesitation as Jake faked a shot to the heart. “You really want me to read some to you?” Jake hadn't asked about your work in months. You'd stopped wondering if he cared about your career path before you decided to walk away from your marriage to focus on yourself. At the end of it all you left believing Jake had stopped caring about the things that made you simply you. 

“Yeah, of course, I mean–it would be nice to read some new material, after all–the copies I have back in North Island are pretty much falling apart from how much I tend to flick through them.” Jake had never been a big true crime fan, that was until you published your first book. 

“Wait, you have my books? Which ones?” The revelation made your heart skip a beat inside your chest, so much so that Jake saw it on the monitor. It made his cheeks flush a crimson red at the very thought he could still make you this flustered. 

“Uh–” Jake started as he came back down to sit beside you, opening up your laptop and placing it on the small but practical table that could go over your legs. “I have all five.” Jake would read the dedication every night before he went to bed and every morning before he went to work. They were all slightly different but the sentiment remained the same. His favourite one to read was:

“Dedicated to the man who loves me so, thank you for your service, I love you with all my heart.” 

Jake knew deep down, after all the two of you had gone through, after all the hurt he’d unintentionally caused with his emotional disconnect, that the dedication in your newest book wouldn't be for him. It would be for your children. 

“You've never told me this before?” Jake should have told you, he should have been more open, more honest about his feelings. He shouldn't have lost sight of what was truly important to him and it definitely shouldn't have taken losing you to realise how important you were. Jake had never known female rage until he dealt and fought with a woman who was feeling undervalued, unappreciated and unwanted. 

“I should have, I know that now.” It was only a small gesture at the bottom of Everest itself but Jake knew now was the time he had to really put the effort in, to show you he truly cared, that he really did love you in sickness and in health. “I'd really like to sit here and maybe I can read what you've written so far out loud so you can just rest–and if there's anything you wanna change, I can do it for you.” 

“Oh you don’t have to—“ Your sentence trailed off into nothing as you looked into your husband’s eyes, searching for an ounce of hesitation or burden in them. But all you saw were those emerald green eyes staring back at you with all the love and warmth in the world. Jake wanted to do this, truly. “Sure, yeah if uh—I’d really like that.” 

It felt nice to be taken care of, to be valued and loved. But it wasn’t enough to undo the damage that Jake had unintentionally caused. He was going to have to put the work in, fight for you as much as you had to fight for your life. 

“Okay.” Jake smiled as he cleared his throat and turned the laptop his way. “Alright Honey, let’s go from the top shall we?”

“Take it away Mr. Ghost Writer.” You cooed as you settled into your hospital bed and found a comfortable position, if anything you were feeling rather tired. Maybe you’d be able to get some more sleep soon—that wasn’t such a bad idea. 

“In the early hours of January 1996, after an evening spent celebrating at Club Bayview in the Perth suburb of Claremonth, 18-year-old Sarah Spiers called a taxi to nearby Mosman Park. But when the cab arrived, she’d already gone. Sarah was never seen again.” Jake read out loud as you listened and laid there wondering if this was all some Lavender Haze to mask the reality that your marriage was over: 

 Or really how Jake wanted the two of you to be. Together again, in sickness and in health. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“Just tilt your head a little.” Jake was being as gentle as he ever could be. “Let me know if I'm hurtin’ you.” The steam from the shower filled the bathroom as you sat on the little shower stool. The hot water cascaded down your naked self taking all the grimy sticky remanence from surgery away with it. 

“Feels perfect.” You sighed in relief at the feeling of being clean once again, Jake stood behind you washing your body with a small lofa in soft circular motions. Under the water with you. It wasn't awkward to see each other so exposed, however, given the circumstances, you felt incredibly vulnerable. “Can you get my neck a little more?” Jake obliged to your request and moved the soap free suds around your next. It felt surreal, otherworldly even after the last few days. You let the silence fall around you as you reveled in the sensation of Jake's hands roaming your naked body in a not so sexual way. It felt nice to be touched in such a way that made you feel safe. 

“Jake–?” Your voice sounded softer than it did just a few moments ago, your eyes lingered over to the sink where in the corner of your eye, you could see the clippers you’d bought with you to the hospital in preparation for this very moment. Originally you were going to do it yourself, then, you thought perhaps you could ask your mother–but now, sitting under the stream of steady warm water with Jake helping to cleanse your weakened body post surgery– you knew you had to ask him. 

“Yeah Honey?” Jake cooed as he washed your body, being ever so careful to not knock and bump the cords and wires that were still attached to your arms. Doctor Ignatii had assured Jake they could get wet–but he was still sus.  

“Will–will you shave my head?” The silence that followed as deafening as you felt Jake's hands nearly came to a complete stop. “I just–I dont think I'm strong enough to do it myself.” Again, Jake's silence was all consuming. “You don't have to if you don't want to, I uh–i understand if it’s too big of an ask–I can always ask mu–” Before you could go off on a tangent, Jake was interrupting as he came around to kneel before you. 

“No, no Honey, of course I'll help you.” Jake made sure to clarify. “It's just–it's just no one ever prepares you for your wife to ask you to do something like this.” You saw the sadness in Jake's eyes, the understanding and compassion. “But of course, yes, I'll do whatever you need me to and if being your barber is something you need then consider me the best in the biz.” 

Your heart couldn't contain itself inside your chest as you reached out to caress Jake's scruffed cheek. For whatever reason, you couldn't stop the worlds from escaping your lips. 

“I love you–” The Pomegranate truly is the perfect symbol when comparing the differences between men and women. The enjoyment of a pomegranate is something that cannot and shouldn’t be rushed. Instead, it's something that requires patience and gentle hands. With deliberation and commitment comes the reward of its sweet flesh. 

Jake knew it was the environment, the situation and the fear of being slowly taken by disease, but he couldn't help but to lean in, cup your face and kiss you like he’d missed you everyday since you left him back in January. The slow pull of desire ached in Jake's chest as your tongue danced with his: and as he pulled away to let his forehead rest against yours? He allowed himself just a single moment of reprieve: 

“I love you so much Honey–oh so much.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb

#was it over? // jake seresin #tw: cancer #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin angst #top gun series #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction

[devildomditzy]

Pacts - Mammon x MC

Part 3

Haven’t Read The Beginning? : Part One - Part Two

Tag list + Author’s Note at the end

Tags: Angst w/ eventual comfort, Mentions of Death/The Fall, Mentions of anxiety/anxiety attacks

——————————————————————————

Okay… Deep breaths. Just like Lilith taught ya.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In

In

IN!!!!

“Mammon, what’s wrong! Hey, Mammon, come on, come back to me.”

If only the simple snapping of your fingers in his face and the feeling of you grabbing his shoulders could bring him down from the panic he was now feeling.

This should be easy. He can remember another time, a simpler time, a time long gone by. One where his sister still lived and smiled and breathed. One where she taught him things like expressing your feelings and sharing your emotions with others. One where she showed just how important family and friends and lovers could be…

He was never good at it. Of course, that was his own personal opinion. But whenever he did Lilith would smile that blinding smile and glow and tell how much of a natural he was at it.

He’s flirted, sure, he’s put on the charm and picked up various angels and demons and humans and who even knows what to fulfill his more primal desires. He’s taken lovers and partners and been a part of a couple, or thruple…or even quadruple, some of which lasting for years or even decades.

But ever since the fall, ever since he lost his home, his friends, his sister, his life; and was left to pick up the pieces with the other six who swore themselves to damnation for the rest of existence? He can’t say that he’s been interested in another being. At least not like this.

You. You. The human. The stupid exchange student he was unceremoniously shackled to. The one he had no choice but to watch over. The one that seemingly didn’t care that they were thrust into hell. The one that defied his all powerful brothers, whether out of bravery or innocence or down right stupidity. The one that calls him silly for wearing sunglasses inside and hums to themselves when they’re really focused and explores the Devildom with curiosity rather than fear and is too friendly for their own good and looks at him with big, bright, beautiful eyes that nobody has ever looked at him with before and tells him they really like hanging out with him and and and…

Everything stops. Everything goes blank. The only thing Mammon can feel is a weight, one that’s made it’s way around his body. It’s comforting and warm and all consuming and it’s…

He opens his eyes he didn’t realize he had screwed shut, only to find you clinging onto his form, arms wrapped around him. Your face tilts upwards from where it was buried in his chest, your expression painted one of concern.

“Oh god- I mean, oh gosh? I think. Are you okay?”, you question, tone laced with worry. “I have anxiety attacks too sometimes, I know it sucks. Do you need space? Or maybe water? I don’t know how it works for demons but that usually helps me.”

Mammon feels the blush beginning to spread across his face, knowing the position you’re both in looks compromising. He can’t remember the last time he has someone make such a fuss over him, and of course it’d be you, while he’s trying to sort out his feelings no less! You make it extremely hard to think, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t absolutely enjoy every second you made contact with his skin.

“N-Nah, ‘m good. I guess it’s…just a lot to explain ‘n all,” he mutters, playing with a loose thread he found on your shirt collar.

“Well, then let’s start from the beginning. The pact, right? We formed it like normal, well… as normal as forming a pact with a demon can be, right?

“Right.”

“And the placement of ours… that doesn’t normally happen right- or at least, it hasn’t happened to you?”

“Right. Hasn’t happened to me before, or any of ‘m brothers. I dun’ even think Solomon’s got one there, and he’s covered in ‘em. It’s….rare.”

“Rare? How’s it rare?”

“Well…cause it means somethin’. Somethin’…. important.”

He continues pulling at the loose thread, looking anywhere but you, his face a brilliant shade of red.

“All pacts represent a bond right?”

“Yea.”

“A shared bond? Between the former and formee.”

“Yea.”

“And so a bond formed over my heart means something…else?”

“GAH! DO I HAV’TA SPELL IT OUT FOR YA DUMMY!”

Mammon jumps up from his seat and out of your arms before shoving his hands in his pockets, turning his back towards you. He brings a shaky hand up to wipe his face.

“Tch. Can’t believe ‘m sayin this out loud”, he mutters under his breath, before turning around.

“Human, I…I like ya! Okay! There, I said it, ya happy dammit?!”

It was now your turn to blush furiously, watching as he brings his shoulders up and winces, almost like he’s waiting for something bad to happen, almost like he’s bracing for the worst.

“You…like me?”, you ask, shocked at the bluntness of his confession.

“Don’t make me repeat myself!”

You sit dumbfounded, letting the feeling of his feelings wash over you. He watched the gears turn in your head and thinks that if you think any harder, your brain is going to explode. Ya know, fragile human stuff ‘n all.

“But…Mammon, you said you didn’t like me being around you. You said that it was an inconvenience to be near me. You even said the pact mark was a blemish.”

Mammon freezes. Fuck. For once, the outspoken second born doesn’t have a response. He stares at you, eyes wide and wild, a deer caught in the headlights.

“So, you throw insults at me, tell me to leave you alone, and now you tell me you like me?”

“I-”

“Mammon, what am I supposed to do with that? You constantly treat me like an annoyance, you threatened me my first week here, hell, you just decided it was fine if I was seen with you outside of R.A.D., and now all of a sudden you like me?”

“MC-”

“I…I don’t know what to say, Mammon. Honestly, I don’t know…what you want from me here.”

His fists ball in his pockets as he starts to tremble a little. He bites his lip and turn his head, not wanting to face you for this next part. Even if you denied it due to the hurt he caused, he knew the undeniable truth; It sat right across your chest.

“Ya don’t gotta say anythin’. I already know how ya feel about me.”

“Mammon-”

“No, I do. Ya don’t have to say it. An’ I’m sorry for bein’ a jerk, alright. I just…I can’t…I’ve been…I mean…It’s cuz’…tch!”

He turns again to compose himself. You almost expect him to leave, to run towards the door and walk out, sulking by himself. You can’t say you’d blame him, you’d probably find yourself doing the same if someone responded to you the way you had just to him. Sure, you liked the second born, but he made it so hard with the way he flip flopped his feelings towards you. You don’t have long to mourn the budding friendship you were having with the avatar of greed before he makes his next move.

He shakes his head and turns back to you, his trademark cocky smirk reappearing across his face. There’s an expression in his eyes you can’t quite place, and he steps forward, crouching down to your eye level. There’s a new determination to his swagger, one that makes your heart beat speed up and your body run hot.

“MC, I know how ya feel about me, ‘cuz pact marks only form there if ya both feel the same way.”

Before you could process the thought, his lips are on yours.

You don’t have time to react, he’s doing that for you. One hand comes up behind the back of your head to fist your hair as he brings you closer to him, deepening the kiss, though he still leaves space for you to push him away, enough where if you truly didn’t want this, you could escape his grasp.

It’s tender, you think, the way he holds you. The way his lips move across yours is a softness you’ve never felt before, and it takes your brain a second to catch up and begin kissing him back. As soon as you do, you feel his lips stretch into a smile. This, a stark contrast from the sides of himself he’s been showing you thus far.

After a minute or so, he pulls away from you. “Ya have no idea how long I’ve been wantin’ to do that.”

“Based on what you’ve told me”, you muse with smile, “It looks like it’s been…hmm…I dunno…about as long as I’ve been here?”

“Shuddup.”

You can’t help but laugh at his childish reaction. No matter if he was insulting you like a kid on the playground or kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, he was still Mammon.

“So what does the pact mark on the heart mean in scientific terms?”

“Scien-what?”, He gawks, clearly stumped at your question. You stifle another giggle.

“I mean, if I asked what it meant to a teacher or, say, Solomon, what would he say it meant?”

Mammon sighs at the question. You really were gonna make him repeat himself, huh. “It means that I like ya and ya like me, okay?”

You seem kind of bummed at this answer. “Aww, is that it?”, you question.

“Whadda mean is that if? Whadda ya want, it to mean we’re soulmates or somethin’?”

“Does it?”

“…”

“Mammon?”

“…”

“WAIT! MAMMON! DOES IT?”, you wildly smile, eyes bright in shock.

“S-Some old folktales may say-”

“I’M ASKING SOLOMON!”, you declare, jumping out of his arms and speeding towards the door

“Oi! No ya don’t ya little nightmare!”, he screams running after you.

He’d let you win this race, of course he would. And the one after that. And the one after that.

Besides,

He had the rest of your life to catch ya whenever he wanted.

——————————————————————————

Taglist: @someoneunkownforyou @fandomhell97 @crocrafts @dragonageoregons @furblrwurblr @youaskedfurret @simpinginthecorner @astarotha @glitterandgoldfinds @liminalimmortal @bestblob @crow-charlie @hauntedcatnerd @aprilwallflower @ungodlywoes @h2ojuice @nani-nani-nani @cant-sleep-because-anime @zarakem @rawharr @nicksworld0715 @fxllen-sxldier @someoneunkownforyou @lexiekim @darlingsama630 @xiaosalmoundtofu @abadonkori @harujkookie @whatamidoing89 @all-mights-wife @oliemolliever @kamukayakmonyet @zp1cy-tr4n5m4n @toobsessedsstuff @enwriq @emsieeee @just-an-indian-pre-med-student @chaoticjojo @todosteakettle @thepaleghost777 @milkysoobi @hopeannalea @pandaplan18 @cutiepattutiestarlight @mentally-unstable-simp @satanawakenedmyoceans

Author’s Note: Holy shit. Guys. GUYS. LOOK AT THAT MF TAGLIST. IM SO HAPPY SO MANY OF YOU ENJOY MY WRITING THAT MUCH 😭😭😭.

Thank you all so much for your support on this series! I’d love to try to do all the brothers next, or keep expanding on this one via MC’s and Mammon’s relationship as MC continues making pacts with the others. Not sure which I’ll go with! Any suggestions? Would we rather it continue being MC x Mammom as MC bonds with the other brothers, or every brother having their own romance line? Anyway, let me know what you think. Love ya lovelies <3

#obey me #mammon #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #om #omswd #obey me headcannons #obey me mc #mammon headcannons #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #mammon x y/n #mammon drabble #om mammon #omswd mammon #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x y/n #obey me fic #mammon angst #mammon fluff #the great mammon

[starysky1289]

stepsis + corruption kink? vanessa starts gentle then edges reader?

Ooo I’ve never written corruption kink ( atleast on purpose) so this’ll be fun!!! This is kinda like, soft curruption but it still works

StepSis!Vanessa X Reader. First time for everything.

It had only been a week since your mom had married William. You had gotten to know him better, but he was a quiet man, he never spoke much. His daughter, your new step-sister, she was rather different.

Vanessa Afton, her name was. She was taller than you, with that gorgeous blonde hair that you’d only see on models. She was a pleasure to talk to whenever she was over. But there you where, sitting in your old room at your parents house, you told your mom you’d stay for a bit to get to know Will better, but as of right now neither where in the house right now.

You scrolled through your phone, bored as hell, until you heard a knock on the door downstairs. You got up, and made your way downstairs, looking out the window to check who it was, Vanessa. You quickly opened the door, smiling softly.

“ H-hey! Vanessa! Didn’t expect you over. “

“ wanted to drop by on the newlyweds, where are they? “

“ oh uhm, there out shopping. You can come in though, if you’d like. I’m sure they’ll be home soon. “

You opened the door wider for her, welcoming her in. She kicked her shoes off at the door, and graciously waltzed in. You shut the door behind her, sitting besides her on the couch, only a few inches away, you could feel your stomach twisting almost instantly.

“ s-so…how’s policing been? Anything good..? “

“ it’s been good. Ya know, one minute your putting some drunk dude in a cell, next your handing out parking tickets. Always something. “

You chuckled quietly, staring down at your feet. Something about her made you warm, fuzzy, made you want something more than just a casual conversation.

“ Are you alright Y/N? You’re looking kinda red…”

Vanessa asked softly, feeling your forehead with the back of your palm. You practically squirmed in your seat, god what were you doing? Attracted to your stepsister?

“ I-I’m fine it’s just..warm in here…”

“ Y/N…are you sure you’re ok? “

She held your face with her palm, her green eyes staring into yours. You couldn’t speak, you were too stunned by her, how she held you. All you wanted to do at this point was kiss her, pull her ontop of you and let her have her way with you.

“ i-i….Vanessa I just….i can’t be around you…”

“ why? Y/N what’s wrong…I’m worried…”

“ y-your so..beautiful and gorgeous….i-i…”

You stood up quickly, holding the bottom of your shirt in fisted up bunches. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, but you knew she was worried.

“ Y-you should stay down here till our parents come back, I’ll be in my room. “

“ Y/N wait- “

You quickly walked upstaires, your eyes only focused on the ground. This was stupid, how could you let that slip up, she’d hate you now.

You slammed the door behind you, imeadiatly sitting against it. You were acting like a baby, like a child. You shouldn’t grow up and get over your stupid feelings but you let them consume you, let them make you feel these ways over your own Stepsister. It’s not like she was your sister sister, but it still felt just as bad.

“ Y/N…can we talk..? “

It was Vanessa, her voice was hushed, she was trying not to freak you out again. She knocked, and you sighed, getting up and slowly opening the door, just enough to stick your head out.

“ I-I’m sorry..”

“ no, don’t be. Will you explain what’s wrong, and we can talk this out. “

You opened the door more, Vanessa leaned against the doorway, giving you a soft comforting look. You squeezed your own hand, you were in it now, nothing else you could do.

“ e-ever sense we…first met…I..I just…something happens in me around you….y-you’re just so pretty and s-smart…but you’re also my sister s-so I’ve gotta grow up and stop this…”

“…you like me, huh? “

You only nodded, you couldn’t make yourself look at her. You felt her gentle hand pull your face to face her, her eyes gently gazing into yours.

“ you hate me…think I’m weird…”

“ no…i think…”

Vanessa moved her hands down to your side, pressing her forehead against yours.

“ I think you’re charming, and kind, and beautiful…and…I like you too..”

She pulled you into her, and kissed you gently. You blushed profusely, akwardly chuckling as she pulled back.

“ N-nessy I- “

“ you can keep a secret, can you? “

“ yeah..”

Vanessa moved her hands lower, as they gently grazed your rear, and dragging them back up to your sides.

“ then why can’t we just keep this our secret…? “

“ a-are you sure though..? I don’t wanna…make you uncomfortable..”

“ I’ve had eyes on you sense we meet…I just didn’t know you did too…please..”

You smile gently and nod, pulling her in and kissing her again, longer this time. Vanessa stepped into your room, keeping you against her as she kicked the door close. She held your face as you kissed, letting her tongues press against eachothers.

“ O-oh Vanessa…”

“ are you a virgin, sweetheart? “

You felt yourself grow warm again at her question and nodded. Vanessa snickered, holding your face.

“ use your words baby. “

“ I-i am…I’m still a virgin…”

She smirked, pushing you onto the bed. You sat on the edge, your legs instinctively spread. Vanessa sat next to you, kissing you as she worked her hands up your clothes thighs.

“ N-nessy…”

“ shh…breaking a virgins the fun part of all relationships…besides…there’s a first for everything. Even fucking my stepsister. ”

“ you’ve done it before?…t-the virginity thing…“

“ a really old fling. Don’t worry…I’ve got you…”

Vanessa gently stripped you of your pants and undergarments, leaving your lower half bare. You were already soaked as she gently traced your folds, you gripped the bedsheets as she pulled you into a gentle kiss.

“ you’ll be good right? Keep quiet incase they come home? “

“ y-yes nessa…”

“ good girl…”

She gently slid her middle finger into you, holding your hand with her open hand. She would get into a steady rhythm, moving it in and out gently to get you used to her. You let out small quiet moans, trying your best not to show how ruined you already were becoming.

“ is that good? Feel good Y/N? “

“ F-feels…feels s’good. Oh v-Vanessa…”

She slowly gave you another finger, giving you gentle kisses down your neck. You moaned louder, biting your lip to desperately try and appease her.

“ doing so good…taking my fingers so well…”

“ I-i wanna be good…Good for you Vanessa…”

She chuckled, pressing a thumb against your clot and rubbing it gently. You threw your head back, moaning into the open air, eventually Vanessa pulled out, focusing only on your clit.

“ N-nessy no…g-go back…”

“ you’ve waited for me for this long…you can wait a little longer. You’ll still cum baby, don’t worry~ “

She pulled you into her, kissing your neck gently. Her fingers ran through your hair, making you whimper slightly. She was all over you, owning you like a pretty pup.

“ N-nessy please…oh I’m so close. “

“ a bit longer Y/N. I wanna make it feel good for you…cmon..why don’t you tell me some pretty little fantasy’s you’ve had about me. There’s no way you haven’t with how you’re acting. “

You burried yourself into her shoulder with her words. She wouldn’t stop unless you said something, and the build was destroying you.

“ I-I…I fucked my hand the other night…thinking it was you taking me from behind…u-using me…nessy…”

“ aww…I bet you’d love that huh? Just a little more Y/N. “

She slammed back into you, this time with three fingers, and using her open hand to cover your mouth. You could hear your parents pulling in from your room, as you tried to have Vanessa get off.

“ no your not. You’ll get to cum, just a little longer baby come on…”

“ Y/N? Vanessa, you two up here? “

Vanessa cleared her throat before responding to your mother.

“ Yes Mrs. L/N!! Y/N is just showing me something, we’ll be down in a few! “

She went back to you, fucking your throat with two fingers to keep you silent. Your eyes rolled back into your head, and with one finally kiss to your neck, she relaxed you.

“ go on baby, cum for me. Cum for me and be the pretty girl I know you can be. “

You would have screamed in pleasure if you could, but you choked yourself down on Vanessa fingers, groaning as you rode your high out.

“ shh..shh…so good for me…breath honey..”

She removed her fingers from your mouth and hole, letting you lean against her. You felt warm and fuzzy, you wanted to have her hold you all day.

“ so..do i get to take you out for dinner tonight Y/N?“

“ y-yeah…you can…”

Vanessa kissed your forehead, and helped you back into your pants. She stood you up and helped you settle onto your feet.

“ I love you v-Vanessa…”

“ shh…I love you too…you ok? “

You hugged her tightly, nuzzling into her one more time, before standing back up, opening the door and walking out.

“ I’m ok. Better than I could be. “

#vanessa shelly #five nights at freddy's #vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa shelly smut #stepsis!vanessa

[baileypie-writes]

I'm sorry for all the asks for family requests but can you please do some of Velvet and Veneer protecting their preteen sister? Maybe from a bully?

A/N ~ Sure! And don’t worry, I don’t mind the requests:) Hope you enjoy!

And remember: if you’re being bullied, please tell someone. I promise you, somebody cares. In fact, I’m one of those somebodys.

~You’re Safe Now~

Velvet and Veneer + Preteen!Sister!Reader

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Relationship: Familial

Synopsis: You’re being bullied, but thankfully, this time your sibling save you.

Warnings: Reader getting bullied(verbal and mentions of it being physical), minor violence, swearing, Reader crying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You let out a sigh of relief when you finally heard the school bell ring. Grabbing your backpack, you rushed out of the classroom. Your eyes darted around the halls as you made your way towards the front doors of the school.

When you were outside, you booked it to the side of the building. After confirming that you were alone, you finally let yourself calm down.

You can’t remember the last time you were able to peacefully make it through a school day. Each time, this group of boys would come and harass you. The’d say every insult under the sun, making fun of you for the smallest things. Things that you couldn’t control, like your looks.

You thought that telling your teacher would make it stop. You were unfortunately very wrong. After they got punished, that’s when the beatings started. You no longer felt safe at school, and you’re worried that they’ll follow you home one day.

Thankfully though, your siblings, Velvet and Veneer, were picking you up today. You haven’t seen them in a while, so they were going to take you out to eat and have fun. You were so excited, that you’d forgotten about your bullies. But all the memories came back once you saw them turn the corner.

Oh shit.

“There you are. We’ve been looking all over for you!” The leader, Jackson, called to you. His four other friends trailed behind him. You swear you’d rather have the devil himself appear in front of you than having to deal with these son of a bitches.

“What do you want?” You asked, trying to hide the fear in your voice. You failed miserably.

“Watch your tone, bitch.” Jackson pushed you, making you fall onto your back. You hit your head on the hard concrete, and you felt tears start to well up in your eyes. But you sucked them back in.

“My siblings will be here any second, so you better leave!” You yelled back at them. You were hoping that that’d scare them off, but that thought was shattered when you heard the boys snicker.

“Please, if they’re anything like you, we can beat both their asses no problem.” He grabbed you by your shirt, lifting your upper body off the ground. “Speaking of which…”

Jackson raised his fist, and you braced yourself for impact. You were already thinking of excuses to tell your parents. Maybe you should tell them you fell again. Or maybe that you got hit with a ball at P.E.

A loud honk snapped you out of your thoughts. You opened your eyes that were previously squeezed shut. All the boys’s attention were focused on a car that had just turned the corner towards the school. It was Velvet and Veneer’s car. If you weren’t being held, you’d probably jump for joy. You never thought you’d be so happy to see them in your life.

The car screeched to a stop, and your siblings hopped out of it. You’d never seen them so mad.

“Whoa. You guys are, like, those famous pop stars right?” One of the boys asked.

They didn’t respond. Their focus was solely on Jackson.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing to our sister?” Velvet asked. More like demanded.

Jackson let go of your shirt, making you fall back onto the concrete, and hit your head again. You let out a yelp of pain. The moment it fell from your lips, Veneer rushed over to you, leaving the yelling to Velvet.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking more concerned than you’ve ever seen before.

“Yeah.” You said, barely audible. You looked back over to Velvet. She had her phone out, and a flash came from it.

“I just took your picture. If you ever do anything to (name) again, I’m posting this on all my social media accounts. Your asses will be finished.” She had the boys backed up against the wall. All of them looked ready to piss themselves. The moment she stepped back, they bolted away so fast, you swore you saw a cloud of dust form behind them.

Velvet scoffed, and looked over to you. You could tell she was trying to hide her concern, but she wasn’t doing a very good job. Veneer helped you to your feet.

“What was that? Are they bullies?” He asked. You just nodded. “How long has this been going on?”

You didn’t respond. You were so overwhelmed, that you began to uncontrollably sob. Your siblings were surprised by your sudden burst of emotion, but after a moment, Veneer gave you a gentle hug. Velvet, not knowing how to comfort people, just placed a hand on your back. They both let you cry it out.

~~~~

After the whole event, Velvet and Veneer took you out to eat at your favorite restaurant.

You ate your food slowly, being tired from all the stress and crying. Across the table, Veneer was trying to gather enough courage to bring up the whole bullying thing. Velvet, tired of waiting, spoke up for him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” She sounded really upset.

“I tried telling people already. That just made them start hurting me.” You said, avoiding eye contact.

Veneer decided to speak as well, now that the subject was brought up. “But we’re your family. We can help you!”

“Look, I’m sorry okay? I was just so scared at what they would do next!” You raised your voice, making them jump a little.

“How bad was it?” Veneer asked after a moment of silence. You looked so traumatized, he almost didn’t want to know.

“They… beat me up a lot. And they make fun of me. I don’t feel safe at school.” Veneer felt his heart break for you. That’s when the anger caught up to him.

He turned to Velvet. “I want you to post those pictures.” His tone genuinely scared you.

“Oh, I already did.” She said, expression unchanging. Veneer gave her an almost menacing smile, and turned back to you. He placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry sis, you’re safe now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~baileypie-writes

#trolls 3 band together #trolls 3 #trolls 3 x reader #velvet x reader #veneer x reader #trolls 3 velvet #trolls 3 veneer #trolls veneer #trolls velvet #velvet x reader platonic #veneer x reader platonic

[emmyrosee]

hii! if your requests are open, can i ask for a fluffy time skip kenma x hard of hearing fem reader? maybe they can bake an apple pie together on a stream or something 😫 but if not it's totally okay! i understand that not everyone is willing to write about things like that, so you don't have to include the hard of hearing detail but it'd be greatly appreciated if you did!

btw i love your writing! keep doing what you're doing :)) 🖤🖤

You’re nervous. He sees that.

While you’re no stranger to Kenma’s streams or videos, it’s the first time you’d be doing a… collaborative effort, rather than just conversing with him, and it has your head spinning slightly to try and work on the ways you'll be able to communicate with him.

He tells you his holiday stream can wait, and he's more than happy to make this an easy video for you both; you tell him to shut up.

"I'll be fine," you groan. "It's not like I can't hear you, it just takes a second to hit.”

“That’s not the point,” he says simply, watching as you continue to set up pots and pans to bake with, pausing briefly to keep you from getting lost in the clattering of metal. “The stream doesn’t have to be us baking or anything like that. We can just play overcooked or something.”

“They voted for this.”

“I don’t care what they voted for.”

“Yeah, see, that’s where we differ,” you tease, and you walk over to him and tug him to a hug. “Besides, look at the queue to get into the stream; do you really want to be the big, bad Kodzuken who ruined Christmas for his fans as the donate to the shelter-“

“They should be donating regardless of what we do.”

“I know, but we still need the incentive.” He quirks a brow at you and you roll your eyes. “You’re being dramatic, babe. I’ll be fine!”

He holds his hands up in mercy, then leans forwards to start the stream, slender fingers peeking out from his hoodie sleeve to start it.

“OH!”

Instantly, you turn on your heel to look at him, his fingers just a few inches away from starting the show.

“No signs Kenma,” you say firmly, which makes his brow cock in confusion. “I mean it; I don’t need your viewers to… see.”

“See what?” He asks genuinely. “That you have a hearing disorder?”

“Yes!”

“Baby, they know-“

“Yeah, but…” you sigh softly. “They don’t need to see it in action. I’m sure I can hear you fine. We'll just have to work a little bit slower is all."

He opens his mouth to speak, but you quickly make your way to grab some more ingredients, sure to tune him out from whatever he could say. You hear him sigh, and he quickly shuffles over to you to let you know he’s going to start the stream.

Immediately, there’s so much happening it’s almost overwhelming.

Right off the bat, there’s donations flying, alerts ringing in the air of your spacious kitchen and echoing back through to rattle your skull. Kenma tries to talk just a hair louder than everything else, just to keep the flow of any potential conversation going.

You know he’s trying to help… but it’s not exactly helping as much as he thinks it is.

You feel your palms shaking and growing clammy, trying to ignore his questions and comments and focus on the recipe that you can see from the counter.

Bless his heart, he’s working at the end of the day, but he ends up focusing more on the scrolling chat than trying to help you to make a semi-actually edible pie.

Of course you could read the cookbook. That’s not the point. You want to interact with him, you want to pay attention to him, but you’re completely discombobulated, trying to work efficiently and cooly without being both, efficient and cool.

The sounds of his donations and notifications throw off the flow of what you are able to make out, his lips moving but the words not quite hitting your mind.

And you freeze.

Your hands on the bag of sugar freeze, nails digging slightly into the manila in an attempt to keep yourself grounded. The grains shift under your grip, and you try to focus on the texture rather than the heating up of your cheeks.

You’re not sure how much time has passed before Kenma finally, gently, touches your shoulder, snapping you out of a daze and bringing you back down to him. He smiles, “hey angel.”

“Ken…”

“I had to turn down the dono’s; they just got a little too loud for me,” he says, letting a hand gently rub down your back to soothe you. “I hope that’s okay.”

He’s lying, for your sake. You’ve never been more in love with him.

You nod shakily, “yeah no, that’s… that’s fine. Just let me know if there’s a big donation to celebrate.”

“Will do.”

He wraps an arm around you, dramatically for camera purposes but still enough to keep you grounded and comfortable in his grip.

“Just relax,” he encourages, kissing your temple before pulling back and offering you a sign with his hands low by his hips. Cinnamon. “I think we need cinnamon.”

You blink in confusing before he smiles softly. You beam back at him and nod softly, “right! For the filling! Be right back.”

You hear a small call from Kenma, but he’ll have to talk about it later. Once you’re at the cabinet, you rest your head against the cool wood, letting in a sharp breath before slipping it back out. He talks some more, a little bit easier to process now that you’re still, and all you can do is smile to yourself while he acknowledges chat.

You told him you’d be just fine.

#THIS IS OLD BUT ITS DONE MY BELOVED #I did so much research and I’m still not sure if I got things right #but I hope you’re able to enjoy regardless 🥺🩷 #kenma kozume #kenma kozume fluff #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume x gn!reader #kenma kozume imagine #kenma kozume haikyuu #kenma #kenma fluff #kenma x reader #kenma x gn!reader #kenma x reader fluff #kenma imagine #kenma haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x yn

[serasvictoria]

Title: Firsts

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: You ask Eddie to be your first, but unbeknownst to each other your feelings for one another run a lot deeper than expected.

Word Count: 6084

Content Warning: P in V (safe) sex. Loss of virginity. Eddie and Reader are both 18, but it is never explicitly mentioned. Some swearing. One mention of drug use to calm Reader’s nerves. Loads of insecurities and feels.

Notes: A huge thank you to @adrille88 for beta reading and for helping me out with the ending, because I was pretty damn stuck before ❤️

Tagging @blackseapearl @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @istorkyou @quantumlocked310

*

“I-is this okay?”

Eddie's voice comes out all shaky, completely devoid of the usual mock confidence that he throws in all the time.

It was almost like all the layers had been stripped away completely from the moment that he had parked the van, stripped down right to the bone, until there was barely anything left.

The one who's responsible for it is you and he would like to think that you would be proud of it, too, if you could actually get any words to come out of your throat right now.

You huff underneath him instead, the sharp intake of air almost as wavering as his own, but you don’t reply. Your eyes are squeezed shut tightly and you’re biting on your bottom lip so hard that he fears that you’ll draw blood any moment now.

“Hey.” Your eyes open then, blinking once and then focusing on him. He presses the tip of his nose against yours until you offer him a weak smile. “You back with me?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply. “Sorry, ‘s just-“

“Hurts?”

“K-kinda, but not l-like… it’s just… f-feels weird.” You try to elaborate, but it’s difficult to find the right words to express how you're feeling. You shake your head and throw in a, “Sorry.”

“What for?” That makes him smile, you being all cute and thinking you need to apologize. “If anyone should be sorry, it should be me.”

“Why?“

“For doing this in the back of an old van.” At least that makes you laugh and he’s thankful for it. It’s a lot better than your slightly pained expression of earlier. “I’m serious.”

“Not like we could do this in my room.”

Your mother was almost constantly at home, always hovering around the house, either to clean, cook or keep tabs on what was going on.

Whenever Eddie came over, she was always asking if you wanted lemonade or snacks, constantly standing in the doorway of your bedroom as if she was afraid that the two of you would jump each other’s bones the second that her back was turned.

So your house was very much out of the question.

“Or mine,” he answers.

“Well, we could, but you’d have to clean it first.” There’s some mild discomfort laced through your smile and Eddie momentarily wonders if you're still sure about this, if you're only smiling to stop him from worrying. “I have standards after all.”

“Hey.” He squeezes your hips once in retaliation. “Not nice.”

The only option that the two of you had was Eddie’s van. He would have much rather made it more special, rented a motel room somewhere or something, but it wasn’t like he had the funds to do that.

He had been working at the garage whenever he could to pay for his van and whatever spare money he had left from dealing had gone into buying equipment for his guitar, a new amp for starters, so there wasn’t anything left.

When you suggested doing it in the back, he had been surprised that you had been up for that, but Eddie wasn’t going to complain about it either. Not when the girl that he’d known for years and who he’d secretly been crushing on for about the same amount of time asked him to take her virginity.

Didn’t matter that it was under the pretext of ‘if someone has to take it, I’d want it to be someone that I trust.’ He ignored that small detail, instead focusing on making sure he did it right.

Because it wasn’t like he had any experience himself…

“Eddie.”

“Hmm?”

“You can move.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that.” He gives a gentle and experimental roll with his hips and you hiss through your teeth. “Bad?”

“N-no. Just need to get-“ Eddie’s still unsure if he should just pull out completely and forget that this ever happened, but the muscles in your jaw tense and there’s this blazing determination in your eyes all of a sudden that makes his heart skip a beat. “Fuck, just keep going.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” you reiterate. “Keep moving.”

Eddie pulls his hips back, out of the warmth that’s surrounding his cock, taking care to move slowly so as not to overwhelm you, because that’s the last thing that he wants. You whimper when he slides back in and he sees it then, a slight uptick at the corner of your mouth, the merest hint of a smile.

“Good?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathe back. “That almost felt nice.”

“A-almost?”

He panics a little, immediately thinking to himself that you might not enjoy this as much as he was.

And he was. He really, really was.

From the moment that his cock had slipped inside your tight, wet heat, it was like he was in heaven. He couldn't even describe how it felt for there was nothing that he could even compare it to.

Eddie had done everything that he could to make sure that it would be good for you, too, even going as far as asking the least intimidating guy that worked at the garage for advice, and getting told that he should make sure that you were aroused and wet first and to make sure that you had climaxed at least once before sticking his dick inside you.

But he was too big, wasn’t he? That must have been the problem here and he should have known that from the moment that your eyes had nearly popped out of your skull when you saw his dick. Even if you had no previous experience and would probably have been intimidated by just about anything, he knew that he was too-

“Eddie.” You run your fingers through his hair, as he reluctantly keeps moving, seemingly noticing his thoughts immediately. That’s what you get when you’re on the same wavelength. No hiding anything from each other. “I-I didn’t mean it l-like th- oh fuck.”

“W-was that-?” You nod before he finishes his sentence. He had managed to hit your sweet spot completely by accident. “I d-don’t even know w-what I did.”

“J-just- ah.” When he pushes himself in deep, it's written all over your face how much you enjoy what he is doing right now, how right he has gotten it. Eddie grinds his hips against yours and he can feel your walls grip him a little bit tighter. “R-right there.”

“There?” He still doesn’t know what the hell he did, his mind too scrambled from having his cock snuggly enveloped in your twitching walls, but as long as you keep making those noises, he’ll do anything. “C-can I move a bit f-faster?”

“Yeah,” you mewl. “Please.”

In all this time that he has known you, Eddie has never heard you beg for anything. Not even in situations where it would be in your best interest to do so you never did, almost as if your stubborn nature wouldn’t let you. He genuinely thought that you would rather die than to be forced to beg.

So hearing you give him permission to go faster, and not just that, but begging him to please go faster, makes his mind go completely blank and he snaps his hips harder than he had intended.

“Fuckkkkk, Eddie.” Thankfully, you don’t seem to mind. From the way that your mouth is opened in a perfect o-shape and how your thighs grip him a little tighter, you really seemed to enjoy that. There’s a flicker in your eye as you tell him, “Do that again.”

“Jesus, fuck, okay.” His next thrust is so hard that he can see your tits moving up and down from the ferocity of the impact and he manages to pull a sound from your throat that he has never heard you make before. “You’re s-so… damn.”

“W-what?,” you ask, but Eddie dips his head down. His lips are suddenly on the column of your throat, licking and sucking, a bit too preoccupied to recall what he had wanted to say. “Oh god.”

“Still good?” he pants against your flushed skin. He’s absolutely relentless now, slamming into you, your walls fluttering around his cock so deliciously, sending him closer to the edge with every messy thrust. “You like that?”

You let out a noise that’s meant to sound affirmative, beyond words yourself now that you’re almost being ripped to shreds by the building pressure inside you. Eddie’s hand, which had been stationary at your hip, simply gripping you tightly until then, moves to where your bodies meet and you clench your teeth when his fingers start rubbing your swollen clit clumsily.

“Please don’t stop,” you keen. “Please, Eddie. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” He presses his lips onto your cheek, to the corner of your mouth, and he can hear your voice breaking over the continuous repeated pleas that keep falling from your lips. “F-fuck,” he grunts. “I’m so close.”

No sooner has he said those words, barely even out of his mouth, that he feels your pussy gripping him tightly. You gasp and your fingernails dig into his back so hard that he thinks that he’ll be covered in marks for the next few days.

He will wear those marks with pride. Hell, he might even get someone to tattoo them on him simply to make it a more permanent reminder of what just happened.

His eyes are on you, even if it’s difficult to keep them open, watching your blissed out features as your climax washes over you. You never looked more pretty to him, something that he had wanted to voice out loud earlier if he hadn’t gotten distracted.

Eddie’s right behind you himself, his cock jolting inside you, buried as deeply as possible, his balls tightening first and then unloading. Your walls are still clamping down on him like a vice, attempting to pull him in deeper, and he can feel his cum pulsing up his shaft in waves. The rush that he experiences is like nothing that he has ever felt before.

Surely, nothing could top this.

Claiming the girl that he’d known for years as his own, being your first, and you being his first as well. He would never ever forget this.

Collapsing on top of you, he feels guilty for crushing you, but he can’t move since all his muscles have gone completely slack. He can’t even pull out. Then again, he doesn’t want to pull out, not even now that he’s softening inside you. It just feels too good.

You stir underneath him, crane your neck and press your lips against his temple gently. When your fingers tangle through his hair, he sighs deeply as you start dragging your digits through the strands, pulling out small knots.

He knows that he has to move eventually, but for now he'll do his utmost to burn this exact moment into his memory, how he feels and how you feel underneath him. He wants to remember every movement, every sigh, every touch… all of it.

Eventually, you nudge his side and he rolls off of you with a groan. He misses the warmth of your body immediately, even if he can still feel it from where your arms are still touching each other.

It's simply not enough.

"So… w-was it…" Eddie starts to say as he sits up and removes the condom from his now soft cock. He ties up the end and places it in the corner, right behind the driver’s seat, hoping that he won't forget to toss it when he's home. "What I'm trying to ask is…" he clears his throat and blurts out the rest of his question. "How was it for you?"

"Weird," you reply and when he looks back at you, you're fiddling with your bra, getting ready to put it back on. "But not as bad as I…" He watches you shake your head and absentmindedly sees you rubbing a hand over your knee. "I expected worse? Not that I thought that you'd-!"

"No offense taken," he laughs. Eddie knew that if not done right, it could be worse for girls. His eyes are still on your hand and they slowly drift up your thigh, ever higher before you manage to cover yourself up. His eyes widen when he sees what happened. “Oh, baby, shit. You’re bleeding.” He reaches for his jeans, pulls his signature bandana from the back pocket and gently rubs it against the apex of your thighs before he freezes and realizes what he just called you. “I uh-"

“What, Eddie?” His eyes are dragged away from what he's doing and then he locks eyes with you. You're awfully close, close enough for him to feel your warm breath on his face. "It's okay… it happens sometimes. Apparently."

Your eyes keep flicking back and forth between his eyes and his lips and all that he'd have to do was lean in just a little bit more, only a couple more inches and then your lips would meet.

But he couldn't.

Because friends didn't kiss.

Even after what had just happened, he was still too cowardly to actually lean in and kiss you, almost as if he would be overstepping some boundary if he did. The kiss to the corner of your mouth was the closest that he'd ever gotten that evening.

"Y-yeah." Eddie pulls his hand away, the bandana stained with your blood, and then he turns his head to toss it right next to where he had put the used condom. "What time are you supposed to be home again?"

"N-nine," you stammer as you finally put your bra back on. "What time is it now?"

Eddie checks his watch and replies, "Quarter past eight so we have plenty of time left." He puts his own clothes on a lot quicker than you get back into yours and he slides back into the driver's seat a mere minute later. "You want a smoke?"

"Yeah, but just a normal one." With his eyes firmly fixed on the rearview mirror, he watches you get dressed, memorizing every inch of your bare skin. "My parents will kill me if I show up high."

"Fair enough." He grabs a packet of cigarettes from the dashboard and sticks one between his lips. "Some other time?"

"Yeah sure." You sound oddly distant, but Eddie blames that on the awkwardness of the current situation. After what you two had just done, it will probably take some time for things to be normal again. If they ever can be. "Light it for me?"

"Sure." He grabs another cigarette, digs his lighter from the pocket of his jeans and lights them both. When he looks back in the rearview mirror, you're almost fully dressed. Your sneakers are in your hand as you step between the seats to the passenger seat. "Thanks," you reply as you take the cigarette from him. "Music?"

"What?" Eddie realizes that he had been staring at you and follows your finger as you point at the radio. "Oh. Music. Sure."

You finish your cigarettes without saying another word, instead listening to a mixtape that you had made the week before with various punk rock songs until it was time to bring you home.

Last Caress from The Misfits was playing when you got out of the van and bid him a good night. It was the first time that you had said anything since asking him to put on some music. Eddie waited a bit longer, until you had opened the front door and entered the house, which was what he always did, before pulling away and heading back to the trailer park.

He ejected the tape fairly quickly after he pulled away though. Something about the lyrics of Last Caress rubbed him the wrong way for some odd reason.

One last caress, sweet death

It simply felt wrong…

*****

Eddie doesn’t see you the entire weekend and he’s too scared to go to your place or to pick up the phone so he can ask you if you want to hang out.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this anyway. You had said it yourself, you had asked him to take your virginity because you trusted him. There wasn’t anything more going on there. He had convinced himself that there wasn’t, that the act itself was ultimately meaningless.

On Monday morning, when he was waiting outside your house to come pick you up like he usually did, that was the main thing that was on his mind, but he didn’t want to make things awkward between you by asking you questions that would confirm his suspicions.

You slid into the seat next to him, saying a quieter “morning” than was usual for you, but Eddie does his best not to comment on it. All he does is incline his head in greeting and then his foot is on the gas as he drives to school.

Nothing else is said. Maybe there’s a reason for it, for your silence.

Embarrassment for one, because you can barely look him in the eye. Nervousness perhaps, because you can’t stop fidgeting with the hemline of your shirt. Regret? He hopes not, but who knows.

The silence drags on and you look out the window, alternating from rubbing your shirt between your hands to grasping the strap of your shoulder bag and twisting it around your fingers. You could cut the tension with a knife and you’re unsure how to lift it, not knowing what you could or should say.

You clear your throat and Eddie finally looks at you right before he comes to a stop in front of a traffic light.

“S-s-so,” you finally stammer out.

“So. What's up,” Eddie replies, but his voice sounds all weird. Detached. Angry almost. And he wasn't, not really, but the rational part of his mind seemed to have switched off completely and he is incapable of sounding normal in any way.

“A-are you angry with me?” Unlike Eddie, you don’t avoid the potentially awkward questions now that he has finally opened his mouth.

“Angry? Why would I be angry?” he snaps, but he seems to realize how that sounds and amends himself. “I’m not angry,” he sighs, his tone softer now. “There’s no reason for me to be.”

“Oh,” you mumble as the light turns to green and he starts driving again. “It’s just- I didn’t see you this weekend.”

“We saw each other on Friday.” He notices how you look down at your shoes when he says it and for someone that was able to read every single emotion on your face before, he sure has trouble deciphering them now. “You didn’t call.”

“I-I usually don’t have to,” you reply. “You just show up and then we hang out.”

That was true. The two of you hardly ever called each other beforehand to schedule anything. There were certain times during the day that you kinda kept empty for each other so neither of you had to call to ask “Are you free right now?” It had been like that for years.

“I was busy,” Eddie says. “Maybe I should have told you.”

“Oh no, that’s okay." You seem unusually flustered by this and immediately stare out the window again. "Fine. That’s fine.”

"What is the-" He begins to say, but even though your head is turned away, he can see your bottom lip wobble. "Hey, are you-"

"Fine," you repeat like a broken record, a bit more forcefully and he can definitely hear in your voice that you're on the verge of tears. "I'm fine."

“You don’t sound-“

“Just stop talking!” Eddie visibly flinches when you raise your voice. Okay, you’re definitely crying. “I don’t want to… just don’t say anything.”

Even though he’s close to school, Eddie still pulls over to the side of the road. If he reaches the school parking lot, you’ll bolt out of his van and he won’t see you for the rest of the day, he just knows it. But he’s still far away enough now and you’re too upset to actually get out and walk. He knows you well enough to know that you won’t get out here.

“What’s wrong?” He tries to reach for you, but you turn away. Your arms are wrapped so tightly around yourself and you’re leaning forward as if you’re trying to curl yourself up into a little ball. “Is this about what we did?”

Even though he didn’t want to, he had to broach the subject. There’s no other way around it anymore.

“What do you think?” You wipe at your cheek furiously, the tears falling in full force now. “Enlighten me, Eddie.”

“I told you upfront that we probably shouldn’t do it, alright!” He hates himself for raising his voice as well, especially since you’re so obviously hurt but fuck, he was hurting, too. “But you-“

“Don’t blame me for it! You got what you wanted and then you couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the goddamn phone?”

“I got what I wanted?" He wasn't expecting that response, especially not after you so obviously used him. "You’re the one that-“

“It was an excuse!” you shout. “I knew that you would never touch me like that, so I fucking lied!”

“What?” It’s all he can say as he stares at you dumbfounded. “What?”

“I-I-I figured if I’d offer you that… if I’d let you… that maybe you’d see me in a different light, that you’d think of me as a woman instead of… actually I don’t even want to know what you think of me…" Eddie has no intention of answering, but you hold up your hand anyway, apparently under the impression that he had been about to speak. "But it obviously… fuck, it’s so obvious now… it didn’t fucking work… and it’s not like I can take it back...”

You ramble on, more to yourself than to him by the looks of it, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do. He’s heard you rant before, usually about books or bands or whatever other subject you're passionate about, but never like this. This was pure, unfiltered self-doubt talking and it's a side of you that he was oddly unfamiliar with, because it was a side of you that you had never once allowed him to see.

Part of him knows that he should stop you, before you run out of breath since you’re babbling so much, but another part of him wants to know what you’ll say now that your internal filter seems to be malfunctioning.

“So I ruined everything… and I want to fix it… for things to go back to how they were, you know? But I can’t just… wave a magic fucking wand around and make everything go back to normal.” You hang your head in your hands and he can see your back begin to shake, signifying that you’re close to sobbing. “S-s-so now I’m going to have to… learn to live with that, I suppose… but fuck, I wish I could… really, really wish I could make you-“

“Stop. Fuck, please. You’re not making any sense.” Your mouth snaps shut and you wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. “So, here’s what I got from that… that speech. When you told me that you trusted me, that you wanted me to be your first because you trusted me, that was a lie?”

“N-no. Not r-really.” You shake your head and quickly add, “I do. Trust you, I mean, but that’s not why I asked you if you wanted to… you know.”

“So why then?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Oh, trust me, babe, it is.” When you were mid-rant, the pieces kind of fell into place and he felt like a right idiot for not realizing it before. “I just wanna hear you say it. And say it to my face.”

He watches you take a deep breath, trying to steady your breathing because right now it sounds like you ran a couple of miles. You close your eyes and repeat it a couple of times.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

It takes a short while for your breathing to even out, but when it does, you look a lot calmer than before. Eddie can see your hands shake and to stop them from doing that, you grip your knees so tight that it's hurting him just from looking at it.

“Okay,” you say softly as you turn to him. Your eyes are red and there are streaks on your cheeks, but you seem to have found the determination to want to do this, to tell him what’s going on. “Eddie.” A shiver runs down his spine from hearing you say his name like that, his mind suddenly filled with reminders of last Friday. “I love you.”

“And that’s why you asked me to f- make love to you?”

“Yes.” You look ashamed of yourself and you don’t seem to catch that Eddie very deliberately said that he ‘made love to you’ instead of ‘fucking you.’ “I shouldn’t have asked you, I’m sorry, and now I ruined everything.”

“Why would that ruin everything?”

“You think that we can go back to being friends after that?” He shakes his head in reply. “See? I messed up.” Your eyes well up again and you rub at them before the tears can fall. “I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you sob and he can see your hand gripping the car door, getting ready to open it and get out.

“Wait,” he blurts out. You sniffle and pause, but your hand doesn’t let go of the handle. “You don’t want to hear my answer?”

“Your answer?” You frown, a brief flash of anger crossing your features because you’re convinced that he’s making fun of you now. “I’d rather not know if that’s okay.”

“No way. You got to say what you wanted so I should get the opportunity as well.”

“Just… be gentle, okay?” You seem to have resigned yourself to the fact that whatever you felt could never be reciprocated, hence why you had even come up with that badly thought out idea to have him be your first to begin with. “I don’t think I can handle much more today.”

“Babe…”

Seeing you like this was breaking Eddie’s damn heart.

All the thoughts that had been plaguing him these last two days seem to have been on your mind as well.

He wonders how many times you had the phone in your hand, ready to call him, before deciding against it. Wonders if you had been thinking of grabbing your bike to cycle over to his place, with the excuse that you’d lost some random thing that you desperately needed right that instance.

Because those were all things that he had been thinking of doing, too. He’d even made it as far as a few blocks away from your house on Sunday before turning around and going back.

The only problem was that now that he had the opportunity to tell you exactly how he felt, and how he had felt for several years now, that he couldn’t find the words.

His entire mind was drawing a blank.

And the longer the silence dragged on, the more your face seemed to fall. He could see every single insecurity written all over it, a million doom scenarios flashing behind your eyes, each one worse than the other.

Eddie wanted to take all your doubts away, but he didn’t know how. For someone that had an answer for almost everything, he sure was struggling now.

“Eddie,” you said softly. “You don’t have to-“

Practically lunging forward, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you instead. It was just the one kiss and when he pulled away, you were staring at him with wide eyes, like your brain was struggling to process what the hell had just happened.

“I um… I didn’t know what to say,” he whispers. “So I just-“

“So you just-“

“Yeah. You don’t mind?”

“No, no, I don’t mind,” you blurted out. “Why would I mind? I mean, I-“

Eddie presses his lips on yours again before you can go on another nervous ramble. The first kiss was over before it even started and you hadn’t gotten a chance to respond then, but you do now. He feels your hands on his shoulders, your touch uncertain at first, but your grip tightens when his tongue swipes over your lips.

You sigh and he takes the chance to lick into your mouth, seeking out your tongue. You match his eagerness and then take it further than he had intended to.

You shift in your seat until you’re sitting on your knees and looming over him. The kiss breaks for a few seconds and you push him back, moving in to straddle him immediately. There’s not a lot of room with the steering wheel right behind you, but you won’t be deterred and Eddie doesn’t stop you either. His hands circle around your back, pulling you into him.

You’re basically grinding into Eddie’s lap while most of Hawkins is on their morning commute to work, dropping their kids off at school, passing by his van without having a clue what's going on in there. Whenever they hazard a look inside, they’re treated to the sight of two horny teenagers who look like they’re seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off.

Some random woman that passes by on the sidewalk bangs her hand against the window, muttering something about devil worship. She didn't even have to look twice to check who was behind the wheel, because everyone in Hawkins knew exactly who the proud owner of that van was.

“What’s the devil got to do with you sitting on my lap?” Eddie murmurs against your lips, amused.

“No idea,” you shrug as you pull away and move back to your own seat once more. “Probably thought that you’d brainwashed me or something.”

“Sure I did,” he mutters. That’s when he thinks of something else entirely. “What’s first period again?”

“Phys ed.”

“Fuck that.” Eddie turns the key in the ignition and makes the engine roar back into life. He turns the van around and drives back in the direction that you had come from. “We’re skipping class.”

“Oh, are we?” If you had asked him to, he would have turned around and driven right back to school, but he knew that you wouldn’t challenge him on this. “And what are we going to be doing instead?”

“Some physical education of our own. It’ll be loads better than playing dodgeball again.” Eddie starts chuckling and couldn’t resist adding, “You can dodge my balls instead.”

“God!” Your arm shoots out and smacks his bicep. “You’re such a child,” you say with a laugh. “Honestly.”

“I’ll make sure that you get your workout, baby, don’t worry about it.”

“You gonna make me sweat?”

“That’s the idea.” He holds his right hand out to you, palm up, and you take it without hesitation. He gives your hand a quick squeeze and throws in a, “Best way to work up a sweat.”

The rest of the drive is relatively silent. The only noises are coming from the car stereo, which wasn't set to its usual volume for once, interspersed with the occasional laugh when the two of you happen to make eye contact.

Eddie drives to the exact same place where he parked the car last Friday afternoon, a relatively secluded spot near Lover's Lake which was eerily quiet at this time on a Monday morning.

It had taken quite some time to coax you into the back on Friday, nervous as you were, and even sharing a joint with Eddie hadn't made your nerves subside.

You'd sat in the passenger seat for at least a half an hour longer before you had joined him and then it had taken another half hour for you to even take your shirt off. All that happened while Eddie had his back turned to you by the way, while he continuously promised that he wouldn't face you until you were ready, even if he was hard as a rock already by that time (uncomfortably so).

There wasn't any hesitation now.

Seconds before Eddie had turned the engine off, you got up, squeezing through the space between the seats and sat down in the back. Eddie hadn't gotten round to putting all the blankets that he had grabbed from the trailer back yet so you were sitting quite comfortably among them when he joined you.

His mouth falls open when you take your shirt off like it's nothing and when your hands start moving down, fingers already moving to open your jeans, is the moment that apprehension sets in for him this time.

"Nice to see that you're so comfortable now," he laughs nervously. "But there's one thing that I need to tell you first."

Your fingers stop moving, jeans pulled open far enough so that your light blue cotton panties are visible. "What is it?" You move over to where Eddie has sat down and ask, "You don't want to do this anymore?"

"Fuck, that's not it. I definitely want to do this." He very crudely takes your hand and places it on his crotch so you can feel exactly how hard he is already. You give him a quick squeeze and he groans in reply. "I just wanted to clarify something."

"And what's that?" Your eyebrows arch in amusement and he doesn't really know why. "You can tell me, Eddie."

"Well, when you first suggested that we sleep together, you did that with the assumption that I'd slept with someone before."

"Yeah?" You briefly cover your mouth with your free hand and clear your throat. "Are you trying to tell me that you didn't?"

"Yeah," he says quietly. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Eddie." You lean in and peck his cheek. "I already knew."

"Wha-?" he says, dumbfounded, and you can't stop yourself from giggling now. "How did you know?"

"You did say that you didn't know what you were doing. It was just the once, but it was kind of a dead giveaway," you reveal. Eddie smacks himself in the forehead. He had said that. "It made me feel a bit better, to know that we were both new to it and were experiencing it together."

"Can't hide anything from you." He reaches out to touch you then, his hands skimming up your chest until he's cupping your tits. "My girl's so smart." You let out a moan, one that's a bit too loud for what he's doing, and Eddie's face lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. "You like being called my girl?"

"Uh-huh," you pant as you arch your back and press your chest into his hands. "I love it."

"Good." Eddie leans back until his spine is pressed against the side of the van, pulling you along with him and making you straddle his lap. "'Cause you are my girl, right?" You whimper when he runs his hand through your hair and grips the back of your neck gently. "Tell me."

"I'm your girl." You pop the button of his jeans, pull his fly open and slip your hand inside. "I've always been your girl," you tell him as he pushes his hips up into your hand. "Eddie." There's a sense of urgency behind your voice. "We're gonna have to hurry up if we want to make it back in time for the second period."

Eddie presses his forehead against your shoulder and groans, "And what's that again?"

"Maths."

"Fuck that," he replies as he reaches around your back to unhook your bra. "We're skipping that one as well." He licks a stripe from your collarbone up to your ear and growls, "Now stop talking about school please? It's putting me off."

"Oh really?" Your hand jerks upwards over his shaft. "If anything, you're only getting harder," you observe with a grin. "Or is that because of-" Your sentence ends in a yelp when Eddie suddenly flips you onto your back and gives you a searing kiss to shut you up.

"You done?" You nod, your sass now completely gone. "Good, because we have about an hour left and I want to make you come at least three times before we get back to school if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you squeak. "I don't mind at all."

"That's my girl…”

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