#he loves you too much to worry about trivial things like that <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

love-toxin · 1 year ago

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Ellie i want astarion to fuck my mouth

im SO sorry queen i had to make the meow meow a lil emotionally vulnerable while im at it pls forgive me 🐸

(cws: gn!reader, vampire fuckery, bg3 spoilers, oral (m! receiving), teasing, possibly ooc astarion bc im only starting act 2 LOL, jealousy sex, deepthroating, a touch of feral/rough sex, facefucking, astarion is so in love it makes him look stupid <3)

word count: 3.9k

Once again, an evening spent with your mind somewhere else is interrupted by something you weren't expecting. The fire gleams from the pit and washes warmth across your face, a glow cast over your skin as you sit with your fingers white-knuckling a cold mug. Your companions are off on their own save for Scratch, who despite being a bit furrier than the tavern's normal patrons sleeps quietly at your feet. It barely took any convincing to let him in considering the rather stellar reputation you've earned yourselves–not to mention you're sharing a spot around the hearth with a couple frizzy-haired barbarians and a Tabaxi bard strumming out a tune on her lute. All seems peaceful, the noise just relaxed enough that you can let your mind wander about all manner of things. Ponder all sorts of worries you have yet to deal with on your adventure.

But it seems you're destined for an interruption. The back of your neck prickles from nowhere, a chill slithering coldly down your spine…from the corner of your eye you spot him, his pale hand vanishing behind a door on the second floor of the inn.

He's watching you. That's your cue, his methods of distraction always seeming so trivial and out of the way–he could always just come over and tap you on the shoulder. But Astarion likes the chase and isn't much of a fan of sincerity, so it's only natural for you to pass your half-empty mug off to one of the barbarians, get a bumbled shout of gratitude and a slap on the back, and slip away from the night's bustle of the tavern to thump your way up the winding stairs. All four of the rooms have been rented out by you and your party but one will sit empty tonight–aside from your gear, you're fairly certain your room will be unoccupied as you find other sleeping arrangements.

Tap tap. Just in case there's danger looming too close to comfort, you and your partner have a particular signal. Just as your knuckles come away from the door the tapping echoes back, tap tap, and you smother a grin as your fist closes around the knob for you to step inside.

The oak door thuds behind you at once and clicks softly as the latch falls in place. Nothing but the ire of a god or a drunken ogre could interrupt you now….but there's not much to interrupt if there's only one of you here, and as your eyes sweep the simple room you don't spot hide nor hair of your darling creature of the night. You've got a teasing remark on the tip of your tongue, ready to let loose-

"Don't. Move."

-But before you can even take a breath, there's a blade's edge digging into your throat and a cold, lean body pressed up against your backside. Effectively caught between a rock and a hard place. Prey. Astarion's whispered commands, however deep and punctuated they are, only send shivers of delight through you rather than true fear–and you find yourself struck with a dumb grin, not at all immune to the soft touch of his lips as they graze your tender neck from behind. He's got his arm pulled so snug around your waist it feels more like the grasp of a lover than a robbery, but that's because it is.

"Light on valuables, huh?" You tease over your shoulder, your hands braced against his arm as it holds the knife so dangerously close to your pulse point.

"You aren't. Show me what you've got, or I'll look myself." He murmurs back, breath cool as it puffs shallowly against your skin. It's somehow sweet when he tries to be so hard-to-get with you–maybe, you wonder, he doesn't yet realize how attached you are to him despite all you've been through already. Enough that you don't feel the bite of harsh, real danger in your peripheral, which sooner leads him to loosen his grip and push you forward with a palm on the base of your spine–all while tugging the knife out of the way, of course. If you asked him, he'd say it's because it would be a waste to spill such divine blood all over the ground.

As you turn yourself around to face him, you come eye-to-eye with the glaring tip of the knife yet again. Astarion is half-dressed, a bit disheveled, looking as though he's on the cusp of needing a drink again. Those carmine-coloured eyes echo some deep, violent desperation, one that shakes his voice as he commands you with total sincerity to strip.

"Will you join me?" You ask, your voice tinged with adoring hope. It irritates him, hope. Usually, at least. Usually it doesn't rub him as wrong when you're the one with hope in your heart, but evidently tonight is different if his scoff is anything to go by.

"That depends." His gaze flits away as he worries his lower lip between his teeth, not as careful about nicking it with his fangs as he usually is. Something surely must be wrong if he's acting so strange, especially since nothing has happened lately that's seemed to upset him…at least not that he's told you. It could be something else entirely, or something you don't have any idea about. Once he meets your eyes again, the hand he's gripping the dagger in lowers slowly. It was just a prop, after all–never a real threat. "...So long as you don't forget who you pledged your love to. Me. I won't stand for all this…this nonsense I've seen of late."

You cock your head in reply with a raised brow, questioning and curious of what on earth he could be referring to. Astarion rolls his eyes but it's most assuredly a gesture to mask how weak your sincerity makes him, your honesty painfully boring but, at the same time, endlessly endearing. With a sigh he tosses the knife aside in an arc, the handle flipping over blade for it to fall perfectly on the tip, sunk half an inch into the table by the bed. He's got his attention locked on it for long enough that the shuffling of fabric is what turns his head back towards you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips on instinct as he watches your clothing slip off your positively tantalizing figure.

"We're gonna have to pay for that, you know." Whatever you're saying goes right through both ears, the way your giggles shake your shoulders being all that he can focus on right now. He can barely tear his eyes away once you've wiggled out of your bottoms, and you're swift to remind him of his stare when you cheekily throw the travel-worn trousers in his direction. But all he does is grab a handful of them and press them to his face, not soaking in the scent as much as the undeniable warmth from just coming off your legs. They're only an introduction, however. They're tossed right back at you without pause, and fall to the floor in a heap that Astarion carelessly steps over to get to you. To get closer. He can never really get close enough, ever.

Even an inch away from you, though, your love does nothing to close that last shred of distance between you. Where he was eager to touch you just a few minutes ago, now he keeps his hands down like he's nervous about grazing you with just his fingertips. But despite that you can clearly see how he keeps eyeing your lips, so if he won't meet you the rest of the way, you simply have to do it for him. A quick peck on the chin is too much yet not enough–he endures a noticeable quiver through his body that he tries to stifle, but he can't resist raising a hand to your neck and tilting your head higher, just enough that you won't miss this time when he plants his mouth on yours. Deeper this time, much deeper, with his tongue making an appearance to slither from a cold embrace to your unbearably hot one.

You'd love nothing more than to take it further right here, right now, but there's something stopping Astarion that you'd like to get to the bottom of. Just as he's getting a little lost in your kiss, his eyes shut and fangs scraping at your delicate tongue as it moves with his, you break it off with a warm hand pressed to his chest and bring him back to your unspoken question.

"Azzy, what's wrong?"

"Don't call me that," He snaps back suddenly, brow furrowed in immediate annoyance. He doesn't move away though–clearly you're a bit too enticing for him to rethink the embrace he has you in, nor the fact that you're bare and warm for nobody else but him. "So childish. Or did you simply forget my name already?"

"I could never forget you. Now tell me what's wrong, Az. You're acting weird."

This time, he just shoots you a glare that could kill you on the spot. It's damning, his fury terrifying enough written so plainly on his face….but it also stirs up something within you that won't be sated by words alone.

"Last time, darling. I'm warning you. And it's nothing. Just…" A shake of his head sends his perfect curls flying about, each one falling back into place more perfectly than he's coming across right now. "...I wish you had been around when I was alive. That's all."

"What do you mean?"

"The others are all…alive. Breathing. Warm. Some of them look at you like–like you aren't with me. Like they could sweep you off your feet without even a thought." He says it with so much defeat in his tone, so gently with so soft an edge that you almost can't hear it with the muffled sounds of the tavern under your feet. It's rare to hear him sound so…sad. It's a bit odd to think, but he often comes off younger than he is when he speaks this way. "Maybe, if…if I was with you, then…" He huffs, flinching away from your hand as it grazes his cheek. Yet, within a moment, he's turning back and nuzzling his face into your palm like he can't get enough, his hand coming up to brace your delicate wrist as if he's afraid you really will pull away from him. "...If I was with you, maybe I would never be what I am now."

"But I like who you are now." You insist, the smile slowly returning as it creases the edges of your lips. "I love you, Astarion. I mean it, I always will. Forever."

"Forever is a very long time, my sweet." You shoot him that naive look like you don't really get the gravity of what you're saying. You don't, on second thought–you haven't suffered through two immortal centuries like he has. "...Fine. You love me? Prove it, then."

His tone grows dark, as does the once-vibrant colour in his eyes. Something swirls about behind them like a shadow in the water of a blood-red lake.

"On your knees."

Huh?

"I said," The air grows hot around you despite the chill of his body on yours, a purr rising in the back of his throat as he pushes very gently on your shoulder. "Get on your knees."

And with his command hanging in the air, you follow so obediently you give him a pleasing shiver down the length of his spine and back. You sink down to the floor in one long, fluid motion, barely breaking eye contact as you brace yourself against his pale thighs. They don't even need your touch to come undressed, his pants falling with his thumbs hooked into the waist and tugged down just as easily as you did. He wastes no time in stepping out of them and kicking them away, but he doesn't really have the option to when you're already mesmerized by the image of what lies beneath–once the tip of his flushed, heavy cock sprung free of catching on his belt, you had your gaze glued to it like it's the first time you've ever laid eyes on him.

"I'll never get tired of this view." He smirks, all pompous and smug with no idea of the test of self-control he's about to face. Because although you may be the one beneath him, where you belong in this scenario, the haze over your eyes as you stare openly should be enough of a tell that your mouth is already watering. Astarion's gentle humming hits your ears as he takes himself in hand, tugging out a few slow strokes for your entertainment before he settles on holding it by the base, and guides it down towards your lips. He's so pale everywhere else that the ruddiness of the rubbery head is almost uncanny, but the pale pink blush that spreads throughout gives his flesh such a delicate look that you can't help but dive right in.

One slow, tentative lick up the tip, and Astarion has it written all over his face–he isn't going to be finished until you've got some bruises, that's for sure. You try another and he finally gets a grip on your head, fingers woven through your hair to keep you steady and to calm his trembling hands. Those soft kitten licks are always his weakness, each one a bit braver and deeper but peppered with hot little kisses in between. You press them all down the shaft and back, smearing the stiff flesh with spit and giving him a tongue bath that feels like it never ends–not that he wants it to, though. Those shaky breaths overhead are a telltale sign otherwise.

"More," He purrs, half-needy and half-demanding in the same breath. You kiss over his knuckles that still grip the base of his shaft, and can't help but smile up at him as he quietly taps the head against your lips, tap tap. Twice he knocks and begs silently for entry, and soon he releases a sigh from the depths of his belly as you swallow him down and welcome him in. "Show me what I deserve."

Astarion certainly doesn't need to tell you twice, he barely needs to tell you once. As soon as he's settled snugly where he belongs, he lets go of the grasp he had and watches in awe as you swallow. Every inch he thinks you can't take more of disappears inside your mouth, slid further and further until he starts to curve into the bend of your throat and loses the last vestiges of his willpower. All his strength saps into you like his teeth on your flesh–where he stole your power in your blood, you take it back just as easily with a flick of your tongue and the incessant squeeze of your throat.

"Getting impatient? Already? We've only just begun, love." You can feel the heat of his eyes shift as they turn further downward, no clothing able to serve as a boundary to hide the needy grind of your thighs together as you kneel. The reaction of your body to his rather lewd commentary doesn't help you either, and in one sweep of his gaze over your exposed figure he can see everything you're thinking like it's written across your skin in ink. "Don't stop rubbing those legs together. Show me just how badly you want me, darling."

It might be more embarrassing if you didn't know Astarion had seen it all already, and that he would most definitely be seeing much more of everything below in the future. The fact that you trust him with those fangs around all your sensitive areas is touching…and it also means he trusts you enough to be a little rougher when you're returning the favour. You've degraded yourself to a humiliating extent by being with him, by getting down on your knees for him no less, and with him wrapped so tight and cozy in your throat he's got a look like he's ready to make himself at home.

With a moan slipped in between the pauses, your beloved curls his thumbs down behind the shell of each ear, his palms laid flat against your temples so he won't let go so easily. The drawing back is easy, his cock parting less and less of the space inside until he's barely brought it back to the tip–but just as you're getting in a taste of his salty sweat and bitterly rich arousal as it sits heavy on your tongue, Astarion flashes you a wink and braces your face for impact as he thrusts back in. Your heat coddles every inch of him and shakes loose a string of raspy moans from his chest, while the scrape of your nails against his thighs and your soft, squirming tongue pressed flat against his girth only has him burning hotter. The first time is a tight fit for sure, but as he enters into a steady rhythm of pulling out and gliding past your sweet, stretched lips, each buck of his hips grows smoother and it gets easier with time. Sooner than either of you expected, you barely have to focus at all–you can sit nicely and let your attention wander up to his lusty gaze, idly suckling at whatever he manages to stuff inside for as long as he's able to keep it there.

"I know it's on your mind already, but tell me I'm beautiful, my sweet." Astarion croons like a cat to a mouse, speaking so sweetly like he isn't still ravaging the most tender areas of your throat, and fucking away any possibility of you speaking properly for the next little while. And he shows no signs of stopping, your squeaky, muffled moans as he grinds the heft of his cock against your tongue too delicious for him to think about it. But eventually he does, managing somehow to pry himself off of your beautiful, fucked-out, spit-slicked face to give you a chance. "Go on. Speak."

"Please," You croak, head hazy and your face dark with warmth. "You're so beautiful, Astarion, please. I love you."

"Will you love me forever?" You nod, the answer barely a hair's breadth from your swollen lips.

"For eternity."

Astarion takes a moment, a pause that lasts a lifetime or more, but the genuine joy that starts to spread across his smile could keep you alive for a century of centuries. It's not one you see often or ever see, but that makes it just as precious as any gold or treasure you might come across in your lifetime.

"...Eternity it is then, darling." One of those cold hands moves to stroke your hair, his touch fleeting yet his grip tight with desire as you lean in for a kiss–not on his lips, but rather the tip of his dick, of which is absolutely soaked by your influence…and of his readiness for the end, as you can see by the veins pulsing up the sides and the whole length twitching with anticipation. You can feel those little spasms through your tongue as it meets his slit, Astarion's chest heaving and fangs glinting as he gives in to the urges to nestle himself back inside. As much as he wants a proper kiss, he'll get one as soon as those frantic hips slow completely instead of picking up speed as he meets your delectable heat again. He could be using you for his pleasure alone for another two hundred years, and in your endless desire to please him you're not sure you'd oppose it–you know for a fact that once the centuries had passed, Astarion would be spending twice as long with his head down between your legs.

"One day, I'll tear that wretch of a vampire's heart out through his stomach," Astarion growls out of nowhere, suddenly sounding completely feral in the span of a moment. The ferocity with which he's fighting the tightness of your throat increases too, thought not much more than he already was–if you touched your neck you would feel the bulge of him sunk so deep he can see it, the rise and fall of that soft flesh tightening the knot in the pit of his belly. "-And we won't ever spend a day apart. I swear."

All you can do is ride with the pace he's offering, your throat cinching tight like a coinpurse the more he rams it with the full strength of his hips, nails digging into your scalp as he batters you rabidly without ever losing his grip. Soon, his query of "Ready, darling?" barely meets your ears, your attempt at not choking on each thrust and somehow sucking in a breath here and there too important for your survival.

And in a matter of moments, you're granted reprieve while also left hollow and empty at the same time, Astarion's fist yanking you back by the hair as he sucks in a huge, deep breath into his lungs. The twist of his other hand stroking himself down to the last few beats comes close to your face, your soft gasps for air the perfect background for your name to trickle out of Astarion's mouth–and with such a deep moan it rattles you through your blood down to your bones, you kneel and wait eagerly as your partner lets everything go for you. His balls tighten and squeeze as the pressure of that knot inside him snaps, and he watches with a devoted gleam in his eyes as you wear every rope of pearly cum he milks out for you in that orgasm that shakes him to the core.

"Look at that," He murmurs, voice nearly as wrecked and raspy as yours will be by tomorrow. "Painted like a canvas fit for the gods. Gorgeous."

If he could, he would save this image of you in a frame forever; your sweet, smiling face marred with the essence of him, your hair pulled back by his sweaty fingers but your eyes filled with so much love. Love, genuine and sincere, your giggles loopy and tired as you come down from the high, yet without any post-sex remorse that he fears each and every time you climb into his bed with him. It stays the same when he cleans you off and persists even once you kiss him, knees so wobbly you fall back into the sheets with the slightest push. You won't ever let him free, kiss after kiss pressed to his cold mouth as he climbs over you. Your ankles hook over his waist before he knows it, your smile desperate to be wiped off your face again once he chases that heat for the second, third, fourth, fifth, tenth time, until the sun rises and you're reminded of the downsides of entertaining a lover who never needs rest.

You might tell him you love him again when morning comes, despite the exhaustion tugging down your eyelids and the sweat pouring down your aching back. You probably will, knowing how naive and sincere you tend to be even when you shouldn't. Even so, this time…Astarion might not be able to pretend he doesn't feel exactly the same way.

#astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #ellie writes #anons #3k

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luveline · 1 year ago

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hi jade! i’m obsessed with ur writing. i also love angst so much idk i was thinking maybe for zombie steve, the stress of post college life and everything gets too much for them and it all kinda blows up into a fight and the reader is thinking like his life would be so much easier if we weren’t dating and then it’s them kind of making up??? totally understandable if u don’t wanna make these poor babies suffer any more but just wanted to throw it out there! haha

thank you for your request lovely <3 steve zombie au —a trivial fight snowballs, and you get some much needed reassurances. fem!reader, 3.5k

"I think you're tired," Steve says.

You pull your backpack higher up your shoulders by the straps. "I'm not tired, Steve."

"You haven't slept well in weeks," he says.

"It's not the point. You're not listening to what I'm saying, you're just looking for the problem."

"Because," he says gingerly, "I know that you wouldn't be saying this if you'd been sleeping. That's all I'm saying."

"You're not listening," you insist.

"I am, I am listening," he says, and he doesn't sound mad, but the ice is thinning. "I get that you think we shouldn't be moving along. I understand what you're saying to me, but I really think you're– it's fatigue. You're sick of moving around, I am too, but you know the risk if we stay somewhere."

"You're not listening to me, though, you're discounting my concern because I'm tired, but if I wasn't tired I'd be saying the same stuff. We can't keep moving around, your knee is still hurting even though you refuse to tell me, and you think I don't know but I do know–"

"So the problem is that I'm not telling you my knee hurts?"

"The problem is that you have no sense of self preservation and also that you're really not listening–"

"I'm listening!" Steve says, his voice peaking.

Robin turns to look from where she's walking just ahead with Sarah and the others. She meets Steve's eyes first and then yours, and she smiles at you tentatively, as if to say, Everything okay?

You shake your head at her. Don't worry about it.

"I'm obviously fucking listening," he mutters, looking to the sun as he combs his hair out of his eyes.

"You don't have to be a jerk about it."

"You're jabbing at me."

"I'm jabbing at you?"

"It's black and white with you today. I say black and you say white, and it's giving me a headache."

You huff a breath out. Arguing with Steve is easy, you did it enough when you first met, but it's different now. It hurts your feelings when he digs in.

"That's not true, I don't need to be contrary to disagree with you," you say.

"But you are! You're just disagreeing with me because you're in a bad mood! You know we need to leave, you know it's the right thing, and I just don't want to listen to it anymore."

"Why? Why is it so hard for you to listen to me? You love me," you say. It sounds odd, nearly questioning, and you both flinch.

"Of course I love you. But I'm tired. I don't want to fight."

"It wasn't a fight until you made it one," you say.

Fight or flight doubles and you rush forward and away from him before you can get anymore heated. He says your name but you ignore him, falling in to step with Robin and Sarah.

She frowns at you apologetically. "Sorry, can I…"

"Yeah," you say quickly. "Of course you can."

Robin smiles and drops back to walk with Steve. They don't speak, and you don't look back, but you're glad she's with him even if you're mad at him; you've argued, but you certainly don't want him on his own at the back of the camp's procession.

Sarah smiles at you. She has big green eyes and pretty red hair, straight as a sheet and shiny as silk despite the circumstances. It's greasy at the top, so at least she's not perfect.

"Hey," she says sympathetically, "are you okay?"

Her asking has a heat brewing behind your eyes, but you find it to be annoyance rather than upset.

You have to force the words out, "I'm fine."

She nods, rolling the cord of her tent around her hand. It drags on the floor. It's the mode of transport the majority of your campmates have chosen for their tents and bags, a hundred pack of bungee cords wrapped around tarps and sacks to take some of the strain off of everyone's shoulders. It looks strange, all those camping bags dragging over dirt and grass.

"Love is very difficult," she says. "I don't envy the fighting. But you and Steve don't fight much. I envy that, how happy you are."

You breathe out slowly. She's nice, and Robin likes her, and you'd rather not take your anger out on her.

"It's not difficult," you say eventually. You roll your neck and whine as it clicks. "It's easy. Just hard lately 'cos things are different."

"I guess it's exhausting having to care about someone else. I can hardly find the energy to care about myself." Sarah laughs gently. "Not that people aren't worth loving, but the energy to look after someone, it must be tiring. What I'm trying to say is, I can see why it would be harder lately 'cos we're not at Oaks anymore, you feel like you're always on high alert trying to stop something bad happening."

You hear what she's saying, but you focus in on the wrong part. It's hard, so hard, having to look after someone. And that's all Steve does.

You look over your shoulder. Steve and Robin are walking side by side, Robin's hand curled around his elbow, her cheek dipped momentarily to his arm. "It'll blow over," you think she says.

Steve nudges her. She nudges back.

"Maybe it would be easier if he didn't have to look after me," you say.

You say it because you want reassurance. Sarah races to give it to you, your shoulders relaxing in tandem as she says, "No way! He wouldn't want that, and you don't either. Try not to worry, Y/N. You just need a breather."

—

You are being so, so quiet. Steve knows you struggle talking to him when you're mad. You're not cruel enough for the silent treatment but there's nothing wrong with needing space. He hates how crabby he got with you, but he also genuinely still thinks that he was right.

Who knows. Steve sighs and scratches his stubbly chin. He has a zit coming, he can feel it, and it's driving him crazy.

You'd offer to squeeze it if you weren't fighting. He knows that's a stupid fucking thing to miss, and want, but he likes you taking care of him. He loves that you don't care about the gross stuff, you'll do whatever if it makes him more comfortable. So he sits by the struggling campfire wishing you'd squeeze his stupid zit and say more than, "Hungry?" as you pass him a can of pasta.

You eat in silence. Steve suffers it until he can't anymore.

"Do you want the rest?" he asks, offering you his half-eaten can of low-carb linguini. "It's boring," he warns.

"Swap?" you ask, offering your bowl. You have a mixture of sliced water chestnuts, artichoke hearts, and half of a frankenfurter.

You'd obviously taken the worse option. You could've given him the hodge podge, but you gave him the pasta. He feels bad for complaining and trades dinner with you.

"Do you…"

Steve waits for you to finish. When you don't, he swallows around a chalky water chestnut and asks, "What?"

"Never mind. Forget it."

Steve raises his eyebrows but looks back at his meal. He was hoping you'd say sorry, because he's still feeling too proud but he wants to make up. He thinks maybe he doesn't deserve to make up if he can't bring himself to apologise —you were right that he should listen, even if he's tired. He should have more patience, just patience has never been his strong suit, and he's fucking exhausted and he knows you are too. He's sick of worrying if he did the right thing, and he's still mad at you, but he's starting to wonder if it matters anyways. It was a stupid fight that got too big. If you hadn't walked away, you might've been able to smooth it over. If he wasn't too stubborn to take the five big steps to your side, he could've done the same.

"I'm still annoyed," he says finally, "but I'm sorry for being a dick. Can we… gloss it over for now?"

You usually give in pretty easily. You aren't eager to hold a grudge, a sucker for one of his tight hugs, but you seem pretty reluctant as you nod. He's not as forgiven as he'd like to be. It's fair. His apology wasn't the best.

"Sorry," you mutter.

"Am I a dick if I ask to talk about it when we've both had some sleep?"

You shake your head, shooting him a nice, albeit small, smile. "I think that's a good idea."

Robin appears as you're pitching your tent.

"Okay, don't make this a big deal, but I'm sharing with Sarah tonight."

You smile. Steve frowns.

"Uh?" he asks.

"We were talking about how you guys had your, uh, disagreement, and I mentioned that you're cranky because you never get to hook up because I'm always there, and she invited me. So that's what I'm doing. Maybe you guys will feel better after some time alone."

"You think we're cranky because we aren't hooking up?" Steve asks, genuinely baffled.

"Not really, but Sarah laughed. I," —Robin tucks her hair behind her ear, looking bashful in her huge hoodie— "really do think you could benefit from, like, privacy. Just have some time together. Don't argue again."

"Thanks, Rob," you say.

Robin presses her lips together in a funny smile and shoots you a double finger guns. "I'm a philanthropist."

"Maybe you'll be less cranky when we see you in the morning," Steve says.

"Please, Steven."

Robin says goodnight. You and Steve pitch the tent slowly. He thinks you might be scared of being alone with him while things are still awkward, reluctant to meet his eyes, and you haven't smiled since the little one you offered at the fire.

He sits at the entrance of the tent beside you and sighs. "I'm sorry."

"You already said sorry."

"I know. But I figured it couldn't hurt."

You pull tufts of grass up in your hands, slouched forward into your own lap. He puts his hand on your back and rubs at your poor posture. Sometimes he worries that months ago, when you fell through damp flooring in a dilapidated building hundreds of miles away from here, you'd permanently fucked your discs. Your recovery was rough, and he barely noticed how much grief your back was giving you because he'd been so scared of the lump on the back of your head. He wonders if it still hurts.

He gives it an extra soft rub to be safe.

"Do you think things would be really different if we never met?" you ask.

"Things would be awful–" He starts immediately. You cut him off.

"Would they?" you ask, propping your face in your hand, elbow digging into your knee.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he asks. He's trying to be one hundred percent joking, but it's a solid 80/20, the 20 a startling hurt. "Would things be awful if we never met? Let me think about that one. Yes. Things would be awful."

You smile weirdly.

He takes his hand back. "What, you think things would be better if we never met?"

"For you."

Steve gets this feeling like he's had hot water chucked over him, and his eyes start to hurt. They ache. He could cry for you, he really could. How can you even think that, for a moment, for long enough to ask him, and begin asking him an hour ago? You sat there for an hour thinking about it and this is still the conclusion you came to: you think things would be better for him without you.

Steve takes your face into his hands. He needs you to be looking at him, straight at him and into his eyes as he tells you.

"I would not be here without you."

"But if you were–"

"But I wouldn't be. And not because you saved me from geeks at the start," he says, frowning, furious, "or any time after that. I could be the best survivalist in the world and I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

"Robin–"

"Is my best friend. I'd die for her." His hands slide further back on your face. "But I wouldn't be here without you."

"I make things so hard for you," you say. Steve watches helplessly as your eyes fill with tears.

"You don't, and if you do, I make things hard for you too."

"I'm sorry for being miserable," you say, staring at his chin.

He ducks his head to force you to meet his eyes. "It's okay, it's okay," —he wipes under your eyes with his thumb to catch a tear that hasn't fallen yet— "it's okay. It doesn't matter. You don't have to be happy, you don't have to be nice to me every second of every day, you just have to know what you mean to me and get a handle on it."

"No, 'cos I know I make it hard, I know I've been hardwork right from the start and I don't get easier. I'm always getting hurt–"

"It breaks my fucking heart, but if you think that matters to me–"

"–I'm not strong, I complain and I– I make bad choices, I cry all the time–"

"Why do you think that?"

"I'm messed up," you say, pulling his hands from your face.

"There's nothing wrong with you." Steve squeezes your hands, shuffling closer to you on knees, desperate to set you straight. "Come on, Y/N. You need to be strong to get through this. You think you'd have gotten this far if you weren't strong?"

"I got here because of you–"

"I'm here because of you," he says firmly. Loud, angry, abrasive in the face of your heartsick tears. "Why can't you see that? Did I do something, to make you think you can't do this?"

"You didn't do anything, Stevie," you sniffle, wiping your cheek with the back or your wrist, "and it's not the point."

"What's the point?" he asks, much softer than before.

You shrug. You wipe your cheeks again, stemming the rapid flow of tears spilling at the corners of your eyes. Your lashes are darkened triangles against your skin. "I don't know. I just wish you had someone looking after you who could actually look after you, rather than make you miserable all the time."

"I'm not miserable." Steve takes in a big breath, hand tangling in the worn fabric of your shirt as he leans in too close. "Would you tell me why you're crying?" he asks quietly, tilting his head to one side. "Please. Just tell me what's wrong."

"I don't want to fight anymore," you say, and you sob.

"We're not fighting, baby," he says, hand slipping under your t-shirt. His palm roves the soft pouch of your stomach to your side, where he grasps at you, pulling you in toward him for a hug. His chin bumps into your shoulder, your wet cheek to his stubbly one. "This isn't a fight, this is me trying to make you feel better, honey. I don't want you to feel like this."

"I'm worried you'd be better off without me," you mumble, lowering your head and pressing your eyes to his shoulder, the wet of your tears leaching into his shirt. "I'm doing it right now, I'm being fucking useless."

"Why are you so afraid of being upset?" he asks, frowning.

"Because you never are," you say. You move into his touch, like you're trying to climb into his lap. Steve yanks you forward.

"That's not true, you've seen me at my worst. You've seen me angry, and mean. Crying my eyes out."

"You cry when things are bad. I cry all the time," you say, sounding very, very small.

"Honey, I cry more than you think. I cried two nights ago. I cried when you were sick." He doesn't enjoy admitting it, because he wants to be strong for you, but he thinks his confession is a different kind of strength, and one you're in dire need of. "I'm sorry I don't always let you know. It's not fair. I expect you to tell me everything and I keep shit from you."

"Why did you cry two nights ago?" you ask, peeling away enough to look up into his face.

He has to tell you, even if he doesn't want to. He should've told you when it happened. "I felt sick."

"Yeah? Like nauseous? Do you feel sick now?"

"Not really. I don't like seeing you cry, but I'm alright." Steve's hand slides down your side to the hem of your jeans, his thumb pushing into the waistband. "See?" he asks imploringly. "I felt like shit so I cried, and it doesn't mean you'd be better off without me. It just means I felt sick. You don't have to give meaning to everything, you really don't. I hate to say this, but you have to keep your head up. For me."

You nod, sniffling and wiping your snotty nose with your sleeves. He bats your hand away and does it bare handed. There are much worse things in the world than this. In fact, he's happy to do it.

"I'm sorry, for fighting with you and for crying all over you." You laugh, and Steve's heart soars.

"I love you, you idiot," he says. "I love you. Hold still a second."

Steve climbs up on knees to press kisses from temple to temple, from temple to chin, and from chin to your lips. Your skin is hot and damp under his lips but he traverses unperturbed, trying to plaster each inch of your frankly gorgeous face in love.

"I want you with me forever," he says, hoping you understand exactly the severity of what he means.

"I want you," you say. "As long as you'll have me. Forever and ever." You give a few quick nods, and the sadness drains from your expression, replaced with a relieved and ecstatic affection instead. "I really think I might be tired."

"You think?" he asks. You laugh together, and he grabs your hand, giving it a sharp squeeze as he tacks on, "But I really need to listen to you, even if I'm irritable."

"We take stuff out on each other sometimes," you say.

He squeezes your pinky finger. "We do. It's gonna happen. And I'm glad it's me and you, you know? I don't wanna fight, but I want it to be with you."

"I want it to be with you, too," you say.

He can finally relax for the night. You make your way into your tent and lie on your backs, ankles hooked, a shitty paperback resting on your chest. The camp quietens as people head to their own tents for the night, though a gaggle of people stay awake at the fire, telling stories and laughing. Despite everything, there are moments when all of this feels fun. When Steve can pretend he's two years ago on a loser-group camping trip. And maybe he didn't know you then, but he would've seen you across the way and asked you out. Or he would've bumped into you at the communal showers and told you how to work the ice machine. Maybe you would've met at the lake. Maybe you would've hated one another. However you met in this distant what-if, Steve knows it would've somehow ended like this; your hand lifted to his hair and stroking wayward patterns, your breath sharp with spearmint. You'd brushed your teeth together over an empty can. Steve misses sharing a bathroom mirror with you hip to hip, but he'll take the small stuff whatever way it's packaged.

"For the record? That was your stupidest question to date." Steve turns his head to you, tarp wrinkling under his ear. "Like, you're the queen of stupid questions, and that one still managed to surprise me. And you once asked me if I thought petroleum jelly had nutritional value."

You flick his eyebrow gently. "I know it was stupid," you say, voice rough from a good cry. "I just couldn't stop thinking about it."

He tugs you in for a forehead kiss, lavishing in the feeling of your skin under his lips. "You believe me, right?"

He pulls away.

"I believe you. I love you. I'm gonna keep my head up, Stevie, s'long as you start telling me when you need me."

He thinks that's a deal he can make. "Deal. Easy."

You grin at him. "Can I squeeze your pimple now?"

"Yes!" He whips into a sitting position. "I've wanted to ask you all day."

"It looks like an ingrown hair."

"I'll have to stop shaving. Maybe I'll grow a beard."

You don't bother sitting up, only beckon him toward you with a raised hand. "That won't be necessary, H. Just let me work my magic…" Your fingernail digs into his chin. "Ew, it's kinda gross."

"Please don't ridicule me."

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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queer-coffee · 24 days ago

Text

simple words | pt. 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Read on Ao3

Sanji has been sad lately.

Luffy has been noticing.

Sanji doesn’t hang out with everyone as much. Sanji spends a lot more time in the kitchen, preparing all the crew’s meals, creating new amazing desserts. Creating food that really takes a lot of time and preparation and love.

Luffy finds himself wanting to comfort Sanji. To hug Sanji, to touch Sanji. But something tells him that Sanji wouldn’t like that right now.

Sanji hasn’t been liking that for a while now.

Sanji also has changed things. Luffy didn’t really notice at first, but ever since Robin pointed them out to him, Luffy can’t stop noticing.

Sanji’s hair is short now, and Sanji’s suit fits different in some places. Sanji doesn’t talk as much anymore, either, when Sanji used to never stop talking. And it’s even more when things like clothes or showers or certain preferences come up. Things Luffy doesn’t even think about.

They’re small things, but Luffy knows. They’re not trivial things. Not to Sanji.

Sanji must think about those things a lot. That must be why Sanji seems so sad.

Luffy wonders why that is.

He misses Sanji’s smile. Sanji’s laugh. Sanji’s temper.

He would do anything to make Sanji not sad.

Luffy looks down across the lawn from his spot in the bird’s nest, watching Sanji water Robin’s flowers.

A gust of wind forcefully blows his hair back, as Luffy thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

………………

Sanji thought he knew who he was going to tell first. It was the obvious choice. There was no one safer. It was the one person Sanji could truly say he wasn’t worried about at all.

Until he started acting all weird.

Sanji can feel Luffy’s stare on him wherever he goes. Not that Luffy is trying to even hide the fact that he’s been looking at Sanji. A lot. So much so that even Chopper is starting to pick up on it. Sanji can see his furry head whipping back and forth between them at lunch, meaning it’s only a matter of time before someone says something. And that cannot happen.

Sanji isn’t ready.

The sun sets lower in the sky, casting long and looming shadows from the West. They stretch out endlessly before him.

Sanji adjusts the wheel a little, keeping the Sunny on her steady course, deep in his thoughts of how to make sure this doesn’t blow up. And his thoughts of that dumb marimo.

Sanji breathes in deeply, trying to recall before the memory fades to time.

The scent of warm spice, the feeling of arms around him, safe and capable.

Sanji shudders.

Suddenly, Luffy appears in front of him, and Sanji lets out a yell. This makes Luffy laugh.

“There you are!” he shouts, “I said your name five times, Sanji.”

“Oh.” Sanji’s shoulders fall. The wheel creaks.

He reaches into his pocket for his smokes. It’s not until he opens the pack that he remembers he’s out. He wonders how he forgot to throw the box away.

“Here!” Luffy says, he pats himself down until he stops at the final pocket possible, and pulls out a fresh pack. It’s not one of the brands Sanji currently has on the ship. “You used your last one.”

Sanji takes the pack, a little off guard. If it was anyone else he’d tell them not to fucking stalk him. But it’s not just anyone. “How could you tell?”

“You always look sort of happy when you take one out," says Luffy, "but not last time.”

Luffy leans forward and rests his arms on the wheel, rocking back and forth with it as Sanji makes slight adjustments.

Luffy’s eyes are limitlessly bright. It’s almost too much to look at.

So Sanji doesn’t. He looks down to the pack instead. He pulls one out, and finds his lighter.

Luffy rests his head now, too.

And Sanji realizes.

They’re alone. It could be the perfect time.

Sanji’s heart beats faster.

He sparks the lighter, and swallows, surprised to find a lump in his throat.

Sanji tries to swallow again, but it’s persistent.

He wonders where in the world that came from.

Sanji sparks his lighter again, guarding his cigarette with his hand. He has no good reason to be feeling like this right now. It’s almost embarrassing.

It could be the perfect time.

But then Sanji thinks of Luffy’s gaze, relentlessly lingering on the back of his neck.

When he thinks of that, the timing doesn’t feel so perfect anymore.

Sanji sparks his lighter. Really, it’s putting him on edge. Why has Luffy been looking at him so much? Damn near through him.

It’s making him nervous. It's making him...

He sparks his lighter once more, his shoulders relaxing when it finally catches. Sanji inhales generously. The cigarette flares in front of him, warm on his face.

“Hey, Sanji,” Luffy says, but Sanji barely hears it.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to tell Luffy. Holding onto this any longer isn’t something he wants to do. He is dying to let it out. In fact, it’s killing him not to. Finally being free is just on the other side of a few words.

It should be so simple.

“Sanji,” Luffy’s voice is low, just in his ear now. Now, Sanji hears him. “You haven’t been looking happy lately. Ever. Even when you don’t run out of those things.”

A shiver shoots down Sanji’s spine.

Is that why Luffy’s been looking?

Sanji exhales. The smoke is smooth on his throat, so painfully tight now. His breath shakes.

“Sanji.”

Sanji blinks again, annoyed at his eyes for being wet.

“Damn it,” Sanji says, and he can hear it in his voice right before it happens. But it's too late to stop it.

He lets out a sob. Then another. He muffles it with his sleeve, but he can’t stop.

And still he feels Luffy’s eyes on him.

“Sanji, can you tell me what’s . . .” Luffy pauses, then urgently leans closer. “Tell me how I can help you.”

Sanji covers his face, so frustrated that he can’t stop. That he can’t look Luffy in the eyes. That he can’t even bring himself to tell him, when it should be so easy.

Why can’t it just be easy?

“Sanji.”

“Luffy, I—” Sanji cries. The words are right there, but, “I can’t,” Sanji breaks down. “I can’t,” He shakes his head. His whole body shakes. “I can’t, Luffy.”

And he hates the tone in his voice, the way it’s so out of control. He hates how he’s shaking. He hates that he can’t even tell Luffy, and how it feels like even that’s out of his control too.

“That’s okay,” Luffy says, like it really is. Sanji wonders how Luffy does that.

“I can’t,” Sanji repeats. "I can't."

“I know," says Luffy, “I know something is on your mind.” Sanji nods, overwhelmed, unable to do anything else. “I know something is wrong. But," Luffy's voice is so gentle, "I’m here. When you can tell me.”

Sanji cries, surprised to feel a warmth inside now, too. It’s a feeling he places immediately.

"I'm here, Sanji."

Sanji nods. Thankful.

#one piece #zosan #Trans Sanji #FtM Sanji #Zoro #zoro x sanji #sanji x zoro #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #one piece fanfiction #zosan fanfic #trans!Sanji #ftm!Sanji #trans!zosan

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mazeinthemiroh · 2 years ago

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Hii, I was wondering if you could do a stray kids headcanon with like a foreign s/o. Of course you don't have to do it. Don't feel pressured and please take care of yourself ❤️

stray kids with a foreign s/o

genre: general, fluff

warnings: none

please like and reblog if you enjoy! feel free to request anything <3

bangchan

it doesn't make a difference to him tbh

he's just happy with the person you are and doesn't mind where you come from at all

he's technically a foreigner too so you guys relate in that way

just as he talks about his beloved australia with all his heart, he could listen to you go on forever about your home country. he wants to hear everything: what your childhood was like, what traditions you have, etc...

just loves learning about his favourite person sm :(((

lee know

you guys actually bonded over sucking at each other's languages

learning other languages is not a strong point of minho's. and when you can barely speak his language when you first met him, it was like a match made in heaven

you would think this would be an awkward affair. but not at all! you both were laughing over the situation and using the limited vocabulary you both had to joke around with each other

very cute stuff

since then, you both have taken a lot more interest in learning each other's language, and communicate very well together <3

changbin

changbin loves variety in his life and you provide that for him

he notices when he is travelling, other than relaxing and taking time to unwind, he enjoys learning about the local customs of the country his visiting

culture is something he recognises as important and will be happy to learn about yours

especially loves it when you cook or teach him how to make a traditional dish from your country!

hyunjin

i mean he doesn't care where you come from

this hopeless romantic? no way is he gonna let anything as trivial as what country you come from come in between you guys

he loves you for you

you can come from a different country. a different continent. hell, you could come from a different planet and hyunjin wouldn't care

he defends you regularly because sometimes the media aren't too keen on him being with a foreign partner. but he doesn't care. why should any of that matter?

han

he likes how open you are about your culture

wants to hear different stories from your country and learn what life is like over there

is very interested in the type of music your country provides as well as any traditional dances you may have

will beg you to teach the dances to him; he's a quick learner and will master it quite quickly most of the time!

just loves how passionate you get about your country

felix

he views learning about your culture as a very important part of being your boyfriend

he wants you to know that he appreciates your background and he's so enthusiastic about embracing your differences

will buy gifts relating to your culture

also attempts to make different cultural recipes to really get into the spirit of things. even the hard recipes he gives a try, and while he's a little worried he might ruin them, felix, of course, ends up cooking them to perfection!

seungmin

spends a lot of time trying to learn your language

he's quite studious in nature anyway, so it's not really a chore for him

he wants to learn to communicate with you in a way you're comfortable with

is the type to totally take you off by surprise though. perhaps if you don't know he's been studying hard to learn your language and he just comes out with a couple of phrases he has learnt like it's no big deal and you're just like?? when did you learn this????

jeongin

you being foreign adds a new vibrance to his life that he didn't know he needed

similar to changbin, jeongin likes variety and he likes new, different things

he feels you can teach him a lot and open his mind to a whole different culture and way of life

you inspire him so much, knowing that the life you have led to get to and settle down in south korea hasn't been an easy one for you

this is why he values you so much as his partner even more!

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jayden-killer · 1 year ago

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Heyaaa! Saw your requests were open, is it alright if I ask for moon knight with a reader who overworked themselves and sort of just collapsed? It's okay if not thankuuu <3

REASSURING WORDS.

Moonknight boys x gender neutral reader.

Omfg this is my first request IM SO HAPPY thank you so much for requesting and i hope you will like it!<33 Remember you can request at the top of my profile button, 'Ask me anything!'. :DD

☆

You know when work is so much, but like so much, and you don’t have a moment of peace? That. The workload I had accumulated in the days before was impressive, and I was almost amazed at the work I had to do. Eating seemed like a waste of time, drinking seemed like a waste of time... And if I needed to fulfill my duties, I had to do it without unnecessary breaks or interruptions. That’s why I warned my three boyfriends, Jake, Marc and Steven, not to worry about my sudden disappearance. ''Don’t worry, I just have a lot of work to do.' Xxx :)))' Something told me they would worry. They would understand, right?

Everything seemed so.. Complicated. Maybe, I should have continued. But the concentration began to disappear and slowly my eyes closed, and the breath regularized. Leaning my head on the wooden desk I closed my eyes, succumbing to the sleep so rejected.

«Love? Are you awake?»

A voice as sweet as honey brought me back to reality. I felt a sweet shake of my body, waking up from that 'nap' I had promised myself to have. And, in an instant, I found the hazel eyes that I loved so much about Steven. He smiled at me. «Love, I see that you’ve collapsed. What... What’s going on?» he asked me in a concerned tone.

Rubbing my eyes, I checked the time. 7.39 fucking pm. The last time I checked the time was 4.11 pm. Man, that nap took longer than I expected.

«It’s okay, Steven. The job’s just a lot, but I’ll be fine.»

He sighed loudly, fidgeting with his fingers. «Lovie, I know you have a lot to do. Believe me, I appreciate how much you try, but...It's dangerous for your health.»

«Hey, it's okay. I-I think...»

«You’re trying harder than you should.»

Steven’s sweet tone changed to a harsher one, yet concerned. Even his eyes changed from sweet to almost expressionless.

Marc. It could only be him.

«Hello to you too, Marc. And no, I’m sure I’m not putting my health at risk. I’d stop in time otherwise."

He made a mocking noise. «I, no, we know your habits very well. And we all know that you would risk your health for something as trivial as...this.» He pointed rather angrily at the work table, filled with papers to fill in and the computer, which had an open document not yet complete.

«Marc...»

Marc tilted his head to the side and stared at the computer screen. I turned to look where he was looking and thought he was seeing Jake’s reflection there. Suspicions were confirmed when he rested on the mental conversation he was having with the latter. «They're are not well! I can see that well, I am not stupid yet, man.»He Inhaled and shook his head, pinching his nose. «All right. Try talking to them, since you know what to do every time."

And here his facial features harden more than before, shifting to an expression of pure anger. Now Jake crossed his arms, but there was a half-smile on his face. «Florecito, Steven, Marc and I believe you should rest properly. So whether you want it or not, we will drag you into bed and let you relax. ¿Has entendido?»

Maybe I didn’t deserve them. I didn’t deserve how they paid me so much attention so easily, like it was the most normal thing in the world. I had always put work above everything else, risking losing even important hours of sleep for the previous day. Jake took me gently by the arm, so I got up from the chair and looked him right in the eyes. I could feel Steven and Marc behind those eyes.

«You’re right. I’m not gonna finish this without resting and eating at least.» I showed him a smile, and he smiled back, tracing the index finger on my forearm. «It’s my fault, florecito. Ah, ¡callense! Steven and Marc say that it’s not that I have to take all the credit.» I laughed at seeing my three guys fighting each other.«It’s thanks to all three of you that I’ll be better by tomorrow.» I left a kiss on Jake’s lips gently, and he took me by the hips, bringing me more to himself, adjusting his hair dishevelled.

«Ah, I’d be lost without your help, guys!»

#marvel imagine #steven grant x reader #marvel x reader #moon knight series #marc spector x reader #steven grant x y/n #moonknight x reader #moon knight #oneshot #jake lockley x yn #jake lockely imagine #jake lockely x you #oscar isaac #sfw #comfort #request open #request

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liv-does-stuff · 1 year ago

Text

“Happy Birtday Dumbass”

Hasan Piker X Reader

Warning:cussing but that’s it

A/n: I’m so sorry for whatever this bullshit is I’m high asf right now and I proof read this as best as I could.

————////———-////———-////———-

You and Hasan rarely fought. Yes you argued over trivial things sometimes, but you could count on your fingers the amount of times you actually had a bad fight and boy was this a bad fight. It all started Monday, you had spent the whole summer so far trying to help your best friend move down to North Carolina, God knows why, with you being away for the a few months you had seen Hasan only a few times through June and July , but you made sure you would be there for his birthday. Now you may be wondering where the fighting came in and here’s the answer. One night you had been on the phone with your boyfriend, trying to find a cheap flight, but they were all pricey.

“Y/n don’t worry if it’s that big of a deal I’ll just buy the ticket.” Hasan said tired of your complaining. You were quick to shoot that down by saying, “Oh absolutely not It’s supposed to be your birthday party and I would feel bad if you bought the ticket.” He sighed, “Y/n, could just stop complaining then, I’m trying to be nice, but you’ve literally just bitched this whole call.” Normally Hasan wouldn’t have said something like this to 𝘺𝘰𝘶, but today had stressed him out, his stream was glitching and Austin was late to the podcast and it threw everything off. He never meant to bring his anger out on you, but he had and you weren’t about to take that, “Excuse me”, you said taken aback by his change in tone, “I’m so sorry that I was trying to do something nice for your fuckin birthday and yea what if I started complaining? These Flights aren’t cheap and it’s frustrating !” He sighed into the phone, “Then don’t come”, he said lowly. “What are you even saying?” You said quietly. “If it’s such an inconvenience the don’t show up.” He stated. You hadn’t meant to say it, but you did, “Fine”, you hung up the phone with a sigh.

2 days had past and Hasan hadn’t reached out. Too be fair you hadn’t either, but even so you still planned on making it to his party, which is why you were up at 3 am trying to book a flight for tomorrow and finally you got a good deal. Hasan was having a dinner around 7 with his friends and your flight landed at 5:30 so you decided to make a call.

“Hey Austin I need your help.” You said after he picked up on the 4th ring.

“Y/n what the fuck I was asleep!?” He said groggily trying to make sense of why you were calling.

“So yea can you pick me up and take me with you tomorrow?” You asked after explaining everything that had happened.

“Of course y/n/n, but seriously if you wake me up like this one more time I’ll beat you ass.” You snorted as he said that. After a few more minutes of talking you said bye and hung up.

After your plane landed you went to look for Austin and once you made eye contact you ran up and hugged him. “Oh my god I missed you so much bitch!” You both laughed. He broke the hug and led you to the car. You were nervous to say the least, you didn’t know if Hasan would still be pissed or if he would be happy to see you. You really didn’t want to ruin his birthday for him. Austin seemed to notice your worrying because he looked at you and said, “Don’t worry y/n he misses you he just wants to give you space.” You nodded and soon the conversation drifted off into how Austin’s love life was going which made the drive go by quicker, and soon you were parked at Hasans house. God you missed this place. Austin ran up the door, knocked and shouted, “Hasan it’s Austin I brought you an amazing present.” The door began to open, “Austin why the fuck are you thirty minutes la- y/n?” Hasan locked eyes with you, you wanted to hug him and run your hands through his curls right there, but you resisted. Austin walked into the house and winked at you. Hasan shut the door and you immediately fell into him not caring if he was mad or not you just needed him, he wrapped his arms around you. “Y/n I thought you weren’t gonna come.” He sighed. You looked up at him, “Hasan I’m so sorr-“, he cut you off, “No I am you didn’t do anything I was just being a dick.” You laughed, “Yea you kinda were.” He smiled and you got on your tip toes to kiss him. You giggled into the kiss and he whispered, “I love you”

“Happy birthday dumbass.”

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x-reader-things · 1 year ago

Note

Omg hi!

I saw that you wrote for star wars rebels and thought that this was my shot!

Could i get an imagine of where Ezra has a partner(non binary reader) and they get captured after a big fight, and when they come to save them they are EXTREMELY hurt, like, burn scars, black eyes, cuts littered everywhere on their body, and how he would react along with the other ghost crew and a week or so after ish?

The ghost crew is platonic btw, but i don't know if i want Ezra romantic? Just fluff and cuddles and a really worried Ezra :)

Feel free to ignore this and remember to take care of yourself!

This one got carried away from me ty for requesting this, oml-

It was really fun to write it- I literally stayed up until 4 : 30 something or 4 : 40 something writing most of it, got 3 hours of sleep, and began to write it again I love this piece sm-

Sorry for the long wait too, and I hope you remember to take care of yourself as well!! And if this isn’t exactly how you imagined it I apologize as well, but still, I hope you enjoy!!

“—Builds character, apparently.”

The Ghost Crew x Reader [Platonic], Ezra Bridger x Reader [Romantic, mostly - recently established relationship]

Summary ; In which you get captured and tortured after a… lovely argument with your partner. Only to be found and brought back home a week later. Fun times.

Requested? ; Yes

Warnings ; reader get’s tortured, descriptions of violence [not too graphic], injuries, anxiety - typical canon violence for Star Wars Rebels and Star Wars in general. Also not much of a warning but touch starved Ezra!! I love him sm- also hurt comfort things too-

Word Count ; 6.6 k [my longest one so far- :00]

——————————————————————

Thinking back on it now, the argument was so small. So trivial.

So… Minimal.

Compared to now, that is. It was just a stupid thing blown out of proportions. A stupid little spat that you got in with your partner, Ezra.

Well, it’s not that stupid.

It was about him using the damn Sith holocron to get stronger. You didn’t mind that he was using it at first, sure. It helped him. Especially after what happened to Kanan. Kept him calm. Kept him strong. Kept him believing in the Force.

After all, in your minds eye, Sith and Jedi were really just two sides of the same coin.

It didn’t make too much of a difference to you, besides in methods of how each group manipulated their abilities they got from the Force, respectively.

But now, a couple years since then - and about a few months into… whatever your relationship turned out to be - he was depending on it too much. He was taking it’s teachings to the next level, which in turn made him more powerful. Which was a good thing, in some cases. It saved your asses more times than you could count, recently.

But Ezra was… much, much angrier than before.

Power hungry, almost.

And after Kanan found out he was using it - all because Ezra was dumb enough not to hide it quickly or put it away, and too oblivious at that point to even sense that Kanan was literally at his cabin door - Ezra rounded at you.

Blamed you for Kanan figuring it out. Blamed you for spilling his secrets. Blamed you for Kanan getting angry at him for his decision.

And you knew he wouldn’t actually say those things if he was really himself. You knew that he was beginning to get corrupted by that red pyramid of a holocron. You knew he was literally losing nights sleep due to nightmares, which made him more paranoid and skeptical about everything.

But damn, if it didn’t hurt like hell and make you even angrier than he was at that point.

You snapped at him. Told him you kept his secret from everyone. Told him you’d never, ever, spill any secrets of his or anyone else’s, even if you were being tortured for the truth. And you told him that you couldn’t believe he’d even accuse you for such a thing as that. You blamed the holocron, even took Kanan’s side for it - something you rarely ever did when it came down to Ezra unless of it was something serious - saying that Ezra’s gotten angry.

Too angry.

And you honestly didn’t really think you could handle it anymore. Or him in general, for that moment. So you left. Before he had anything else to say, and before he snapped out of that stunned daze that stared right into your eyes, almost completely disbelieving into the very depths of your soul. It was a heat of the moment kind of anger that made you do such a thing.

You offhandedly mumbled something about a mission you had to get to anyways, just as you quickly walked away from him, glare set on your face, hardening any kind of other emotion that threatened to come pouring out of your eyes (stars, you hated angry tears).

All of which happened about a week prior to where you were now.

Starving in a jail cell.

An imperial jail cell, locked away from everyone and everything.

—————————————

Another cough racked out of you, a wheeze accompanying it. You must have a cracked rib or something. Karabast, everything burned.

The mission you went on was supposed to take a couple days. And Hera gave it to you as a solo-operation. You needed it anyways, to cool off from the heated and stinging argument you had with Ezra before leaving.

It was simply get a few supply crates for medical purposes for the fleet. With how big the supply crates were, it should last the fleet about half a year at most - a few months at the very least. And honestly, the fleet could take anything it can get, at this point.

The crates were located in between the planets of Batonn and Denash, two planets in the Batonn sector.

You were warned to be careful. Earlier that year all three planets in that sector were taken back over by Grand Admiral Thrawn - some guy you’ve only recently heard of through transmissions from Fulcrum in the past few months - during the Batonn sector insurgency. You would be able to cloak one of the Phoenix squadron ships (since the Phantom would be in use for another mission at the time) so you wouldn’t be able to be detected by any of the imperials, or any of the imperial fleet, there.

Once cloaked, a secret message would be transmitted to you via a comm channel that only you and the disguised transporter would know about, in order to make the exchange for the medical crates. All hidden behind a few of the moons that orbited between both Batonn and Denash.

And you were careful.

At least, you were.

Clearly, the other disguised transporter wasn’t, and the plan was found out a little too late for you to realize that - especially a good few minutes after being bombarded by heavy blaster fire from the imperial fleet’s artillery. You’d think you’d realize that the moment you didn’t see the medical crates outside and connected to the transporter for an easy attachment pick-up, but no. You just had to give them the benefit of the doubt, didn’t you?

And now, here you were.

A week later.

Severely burned, bruised, and dehydrated.

And yet still somehow keeping a level head.

At least. You think.

“I told you, I have nothing to tell you.”, you spat between ragged breaths, another stick of something electric being shoved into your side again. You grit yourself teeth and strained, keeping your groaning and screaming to a minimum. You learned pretty quickly that running your vocal cords raw weren’t going to do you any good like that. Despite having to repeat yourself over and over to the imperial scum in front of you that you literally didn’t know a damn thing about what they wanted to hear from you.

Something something, plans for Lothal and it’s liberation (terrorist attack, which is what the Empire called it), and other boring stuff like where was the other rebels.

Now obviously, you weren’t going to just hand over the second part of their questions on a silver platter that easily. You never would. Not even if someone tried using the Force to get you to spit it out. You wouldn’t reveal that integral part of information, no. That’s where your friends were, that’s where your family lived, that’s where Ezra was.

You sure as hell weren’t going to give them that information for their satisfaction.

As for the first part of their questions, however, you legitimately didn’t know anything about it.

Sure, you’ve heard talks of it. Plans of getting together to actually plan it out, once the fleet was big enough. But you didn’t know specifics. After those couple of things, your knowledge of the subject was dwindled down to just some things you heard in passing conversations back at Chopper base. That was it.

And clearly, for the past longest week ever, the imperials didn’t believe you when you told them that truth.

That it wasn’t even fully planned. That they had nothing to worry about (yet). That you didn’t know anything.

A gloved hand lurched up and roughly grabbed your jaw, digging into the ever worsening bruises that littered your jaw and cheeks, forcing you to look at whoever it was. Through the swelling of your black eye that’s been getting worse for the past couple of days, all you could see was the blurry outline of the same soldier that always questioned you, looked at you and hurt you like you were the scum of the galaxy.

“The more you lie, the worse this gets”, he sneered, another jabs of burning and electricity stinging through you at his words. He shoved your face to the side as he let go of you, your head smacking into the metal slab that held you up and kept you captive in this horrific torture machine.

Another strained noise tickled the back of your throat. Another whimper of pain that you stifled to keep your sanity. At the very least, you could do whatever Ezra taught you to do best.

Annoy the hell out of these bucket heads.

“What’s that saying about insanity? Oh right”, you coughed before wheezing out a bit of forced laughter, a smirk forming over your mouth, irritating the cut lower lip that was beginning to scab over. “If - if you do something over and over again, and continuously get the same results, that makes you insane. And uh - buddy it’s been about a week, hasn’t it? You haven’t gotten anywhere—“

The restraints were unclipped from your wrists and ankles. Confusion wracked your mind before a hand grabbed at your neck and forced you back harshly on the metal slab. That time, you couldn’t stop the loud shout that sprang out from you at the sudden movements.

“Wha—“, you grunted before you can even squeeze out a sentence, a strong fist connected with your abdomen, making all the airbrush out of you at the action. You couldn’t even begin to process the pain you were in besides the electrical burns. The adrenaline and the numbness to it at that point was still ringing true in every nerve in your body.

Before the imperial soldier could even land another hit on you, or another burn, the hilt of a Lasan Bo-rifle hit the back of them at a pressure point, instantly knocking them out.

Wait.

Bo-rifle from Lasan?

You coughed and wheezed for more air the moment the soldier let go of your reddening neck and smacked onto the ground, and you were even firmly planted on the ground yet, or strapped down onto anything. So you were about to smack onto the ground yourself when you found no energy within you to keep yourself there. Gravity acted too fast on you.

“Woah, easy there kid—“, a rough voice sounded, almost distant in your ears, until a couple of purple furred hands caught you before you fell, steadying you on your shaky feet. “You alright there?”

“Zeb?”, you croaked out, looking up and squinting at who caught you. Purple fur, blurry yellow eyes, some semblance of a scowl - yep that was Zeb.

Once Zeb got a proper look at you, he grimaced with a flinch. “Oh - Karabast, kid, what did they do to you?!”

Burn marks everywhere, bruises everywhere, scratches everywhere, rips in clothing, tattered, messy hair, more sunken eyes than usual, looking dryer and skinnier. Karabast, you look worse for wear.

“Oh, yknow”, you chucked wryly, still keeping up the act of being as calm as you could. “A bit of torture, a bit of starvation and dehydration - builds character, apparently.” Zeb rolled his eyes, brow furrowed in something a lot less like annoyance and much more like worry.

Odd, you think. It’s only been a week since you were kidnapped. How worried could they have gotten?

“Spectre-4 to Spectre-2, come in.”, Zeb said immediately into the comm.

“Specter-2 to Spectre-4, Whaddya got for me, Zeb?”, answered the crackling voice of Hera on the other end, a faint sound of blaster fire behind her somewhere.

“I found them, I found Spectre-7”, Zeb said immediately into the comm.

“YOU FOUND THEM?” , came a chorus of four other voices loudly into the comms, along with the surprisingly relieved beeps of Chopper. You and Zeb flinched at the sound. Your ears weren’t as sensitive as the Lasat’s were, but damn if that sudden noise didn’t make you flinch.

Your’s and Zeb’s shared reaction caused him to look back at you as opposed to the comm in his other hand. One arm was held onto one of your biceps, which was one of the only thing keeping you from falling next to the puffer-pig dung heap on the floor. You were so much lighter than before. That was not a good sign.

“They’re not lookin�� so good.”, he said honestly, swiveling his head around just in case of any stray stormtrooper coming your guys’ way. No one answered back right away. At least, that’s why you and Zeb thought.

Comms shorted for a second.

Imperials know they’re there, trying to get you back, trying to cut off communications with one another.

“Zeb”, came another voice. Younger than Hera’s, definitely not either of the other guys. Sabine, you guessed, mind still swirling from the burning feeling of the metal, electrifying rods being stabbed into your sides, just enough to cause burns rather than cuts in the skin. “ZEB!”

Zeb exclaimed in irritation at the loud and sudden noise of the comms crackling back, deciding best that it probably wasn’t a good idea to just sit and wait for the others to find you two while under blaster fire. “WHAT!? What is it—!?”

“Talk to me, Orrelios, how bad are they??”, urged Sabine, seemingly referring to your injuries.

You grunted at the sudden lurch of being pulled into the hallway by Zeb, stumbling over your shaking feet as he didn’t stop for a second, even at the sounds of your own discomfort, the ones you wanted to keep at bay for a while now.

The lasat pulled you aside into an empty corridor once the blaster fire began to reach you guys. With a sigh of irritation, he picked you up from your knees and held you up - almost like a kid, which you still kind of were to some degree to him - and spoke into the comms once again. You laid your head on his shoulder with a groan and a wheeze, earning another concerned side-eyed glance from Zeb.

“Look, you’ll see them when we get back to the rendezvous point, just get there, got it!?” He said sharply into the comm, shoving it back into its place on his belt.

After that, conversations on the comms were just crackles and buzzes of the other members quickly trying to communicate with one another, blaster fire covering the most of it up, along with your hands at your ears. It was all just a blur at that point, really.

—————————————

Just before reaching the rendezvous point that was agreed upon, Zeb let you down to your feet again, still keeping a stabilized hand on your shoulder as you walked - hobbled, really - over to where the rendezvous was. He figured you didn’t want anyone to see that he carried you here like a child all the way there from that corridor. Karabast, you even vocalized that.

“Tell anyone you carried me like a kid and I will steal all of your snack rations from the extra food we found, got it?”, you slurred out, arm loosely wrapped around your middle as you heave a coarse cough afterwards, still trying to recover from being tortured just before Zeb found you.

“Got it.”, Zeb said to you with a small, relived chuckle. Although, that relief was short. How the hell are you still acting normal after all of that? Your normal, sarcastic-like-you-spend-way-too-much-time-with-Ezra self? Although, the sarcasm seems to be the only remaining constant with how you were from a week before, at that moment, so the Lasat can take what he can get. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

You arrived at the rendezvous point not a minute later, being met with a very worried sick Sabine and Hera. Hera immediately took you from Zeb’s side, an arm wrapping under one of yours as she led you back onto the Ghost. Sabine held onto your bicep of the other arm wrapped around your abdomen and stomach, keeping close by, and Zeb hovered close behind as the four of you quickly boarded the ghost.

Ezra, Kanan and Chopper were the ones in charge of the escape.

Once you were confirmed to be MIA, with chatter around the imperial gossip chain leading to fulcrum about six days into your stay at that imperial facility before it got to Chopper base, the plan was made almost in record time.

It was agreed upon that the two Jedi’s were to help escape, not fight. Not after the whole debacle with the old Clone Wars Y-Wings mission days prior to that, when Ezra’s use of the dark side got into his confidence and a little out of control during that mission - which lead to the unfortunate destruction of the Phantom.

Ezra was wholeheartedly against it, and so was Kanan.

But to Hera and the other two, it was their best bet. The moment Kanan and Ezra would’ve been found in that imperial facility would’ve made things a whole lot harder to get you out of there.

The Jedi staying behind on the Ghost was their best bet to get you out of there with as minimal attention as possible.

Well, as much as they could despite being rebels, of course.

No sooner than the doors to the Ghost closed once you were all loaded onto the ship, the freighter was immediately put into hyperdrive. Not directly to Atollan, of course - just somewhere away from that cursed place around Batonn and Denash.

The four of you all breathed a sigh of relief, you still wheezing and coughing from everything and trying to catch your breath. At this point, though, you’re pretty sure you have a cracked rib somewhere. Breathing hurt. Not just around your neck, but your sides too.

“Well, that was something”, you strained out with a forced chuckle, earning some pained looks from Sabine and Hera once they looked at the state of you.

Stars, you looked like hell.

Beeping and warbling from Chopper joined you soon afterwards, the Astro-mech flying towards you, around the loading dock that everyone who wasn’t a Jedi was in. Chopper nudged onto your leg, moving its head from side to side, almost like a nuzzling manner that your would see from a loth-cat. Zeb chuckled at the sight a bit, earning a quick zap from Chopper, and what could’ve been a curious catering of curse words and what you picked up to be “don’t tell anyone about this”, in droid language. You moved your arm from around your waist, giving Chopper a quick pat on the head, taking your hand back as he rolled away, the sounds of two sets of footsteps bounding closer on the metal of the ground scaring him off to the side.

You looked up slowly, eyes barely meeting Kanan’s, nor Ezra’s.

Well, it’s not like Kanan could actually see you. But he could hear and sense you. And the pain you’re in, despite you not being able to feel it all just yet. And he could tell you were fighting the whole time. Not giving up even the slightest bit of actual information that could help the empire. He was both equal parts relieved and absolutely horrified at that.

Force knows what kind of injuries littered the skin of your body.

Ezra, on the other hand, could see you. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what he saw.

A gulp and a shaky, quiet breath followed after he finally got to see you. A week after that stupid, stupid argument. His eyes were wide, cerulean blues scanning over each and every injury and bruise that came with your battered appearance.

You were his partner.

What did those damned imperial asshats do to his partner!?

“Hey, there’s my favorite Jedi’s!”, you forced out, your voice cutting through Ezra’s thoughts, another smile cutting through the scab on your lip even more.

Kanan gave Ezra a small pat on the back in encouragement, and Ezra wasted no time on jumping over the railing of the top deck, feet firmly planting on the lower deck of the loading dock before he enraptured you into a tight hug that almost knocked you back down onto the ground.

Hera, Sabine, and Zeb were smart enough to back away once Ezra had landed on the lower deck.

You grunted from the force, a pained wheeze accompanying it. ”Easy, Ez, pretty sure you cracked my ribs even more”, you say, sarcasm and a joking lilt covering whatever kind of fears you were feeling right then. Ezra just barely loosened his grip on you, a hand coming up to gently hold onto the back of your head as the other clutched you close around your shoulders.

His eyes were screwed shut, brows furrowed downwards as his chin pressed onto your shoulder, for another reminder that you were there. You were with him. You were in the Ghost.

You were safe.

He was still reeling at hearing the sound of your voice after not hearing it for about a week. Perhaps the longest week ever.

To say that he freaked out the moment he realized you missed your check-in time with Hera was an absolute understatement. He was already antsy during the first two days of your mission. Especially since you guys both said nothing to each other after the argument, you having left not too long afterwards. He already got a bad feeling that wouldn’t stop coursing through him - no matter how hard he tried to will it away - the moment you left him alone after you offhandedly mentioned your task once the argument ended.

And when you missed the check-in time? And the days after that?

He couldn’t sleep at all.

Went through one too many scenarios through his head that made him anxious to no end in sight. Not even Hera or Kanan could help him through that one.

He grew irritable when he was told to wait for further instructions on the matter of your disappearance. He wanted to go out and find you - maybe pay a visit to whoever the hell kept you away from the base for so long. Man, even Sabine and Zeb were willing to join him on that endeavor before the transmission from Fulcrum came through. Once Fulcrum said your name and stated the now-debunked-as-true rumors of you being captured in an imperial facility for questioning, all thoughts of his previous idea flew out the window.

He remembers how the air left his lungs when Zeb’s voice crackled through the comms to speak to Hera about finding you, Kanan and him being tapped into the frequency just incase anything else happened while they were on the Ghost, waiting for the rest of the Spectres to come home with you in tow with them for the escape. It was difficult to breathe for a few seconds.

Zeb found you.

And then, of course, he remembers the fear and anger that rushed in at what Zeb said about your state of being. What he wouldn’t give to have beat up whoever thought was a good idea to torture people for information - especially whoever thought it was a good idea to do that to you. Everyone knew immediately what Zeb was referring to when he said you didn’t look too good. You were injured. And from Zeb’s tone of voice, the injuries were bad.

And now, here you were. Held in his arms, safe back on the home you called the Ghost, with him being absolutely unable to bring himself out of the hug. He can breath easier now, now that you’re at home.

“Ez, ‘m fine”, you said with a laugh. Still trying to remain calm. “You can let go of me, y’know?”

Ezra shook his head no stubbornly, eyebrows furrowing inwards a bit more for just a second at the idea, knowing damn well he got a roll from the eyes from you. That wasn’t going to change his mind about holding you at all.

“Ezra seriously my ribs are starting to hurt—“

He loosened his grip enough to pull away from you, not before pulling a surprising move and lifting you up into his arms. One arm still clung around your shoulders, and the other hooked underneath your knees. You gasped in surprise at the action, but the gasp was a little to sharp for your body’s reaction, so immediately afterwards you coughed away from him and into your elbow, trying to catch your breath, your other arm slung around Ezra’s neck instinctively.

After a bit more of you catching your breath after a few seconds, Ezra sighs shortly in relief, and makes his way towards the ladders with you, still in his arms. The adrenaline was still there for you, just slowly waning, enough for you to get tired enough not to protest Ezra’s actions.

“What are you doing?”, Hera asked him once he started climbing out the ladder to the deck above the loading dock. The arm around your shoulders was helping him climb, your arm strong enough to hold yourself up, while his other arm stayed hooked underneath your legs.

“Gonna help with their injuries.”, he told Hera curtly.

“We have a team of medics at the base to—“

“I know.”

Ezra’s voice was sharp at that answer, even just the slightest bit of annoyed, stunning a bit of silence out of Hera at his reaction. The rest of the crew watched as he disappeared back into the Ghost with you wrapped up in his arms.

For a second, Hera took a step towards the ladders, having half a mind to follow the two of you, before Kanan’s voice called out to her from the balcony.

“Let him help. They’ll be fine with him. Think they both need some time together after the past week we just had.” He explained to her calmly. Hera only stared at him for a long minute, before looking at a random part of the Ghost below them both, sighing at his words.

He was right.

You both needed this.

—————————————

“You really said that to the guy?”, Ezra asked incredulously, voice the softest it’s ever been around you. He was busy cleaning off the dried blood from your visible cuts, having already just cleaned, bandaged, and put burn salve on the electrical burns all over your middle and sides. The burn salve was long over due for them, and you visibly relaxed when the burns were finally covered in the soothing, cooling substance. That should take away the sting that ebbed away at your nerves.

“Hey, it really was the definition of insanity in there!”, you said with a chuckle as you defended your word choices. Which, granted, prompted you to get choked by the guy before Zeb stepped in, so it probably wasn’t the best word choice, but still. It was better than nothing. “Couldn’t help it, Ezra. I spend too much time with you to not say something, yknow.”

That comment coaxed a small smile out of Ezra, a gentle hum of a chuckle already being pushed through him. But it still wasn’t enough to make him laugh all the way. At least it got him to smile, though, even for a little bit.

He was cleaning off a couple of the cuts on one of your hands, attention staying on that hand as he let the small smile turn the corners of his mouth upwards.

“There’s the smile I missed for the past week”, you said, your other hand coming up to cup the left side of his cheek. Your thumb lightly grazed over the two shallow indents of scars left by the inquisitors a couple years prior, and he leaned into the feeling of your hand on his cheek, stopping his small mission of getting you patched up himself, and relishing in your touch. Even if it’s for a few seconds before he got back to work.

One week without any knowledge of how you were doing was enough to make him realize how much he really, really missed you during the longer missions. He missed your hugs, your talks, the banter. He’d give anything to prevent another week like this one from happening again.

One week without him around was enough to make you worry. What kind of lengths he’d go through to get anyone back. To get you back. That is, if he fully turned to the darkside of the Force. Sure, two sides of the same coin with the light side of the Force and everything, but it still harbored some level of fear in you. Luckily, though, it seemed like Kanan knocked some sense in him. That or your disappearance and subsequent torturing - but honestly you’re hoping it’s not the latter. You’re just glad he’s ok. That he isn’t hurt. That he’s here and he’s safe, and that you protected the secrets of the Ghost and Chopper Base without breaking to anything the imperial facility threw at you. That was an accomplishment in its own right. And you were glad that you were able to keep those secrets safe.

And that you were able to keep Ezra safe.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when a thumb swiped over the split cut that was on your lower lip. Ezra just barely grazed it, but it still hurt, and made you wince a little bit at the touch. Only by a smidge.

To cover that up, however, you decided to joke around a bit.

“If you wanted a kiss you could’ve just asked”, you said, snickering a little at Ezra’s eye roll, and the red that began to tinge his ears. He closed his eyes and shook his head with a chuckle, and your smile grew. That got him to laugh.

His hand moved to hold the side of your neck, just below your jawline. Part of his hand still rested on it, more so at the corner, and just underneath the skin of your ear. The touch was careful, and his thumb lightly brushed against the bruising on your jaw. He gently pulled your head closer, and his forehead lightly bumped against yours, his nose lightly nudging against the side of your own, all in an attempt to get more calm and comfortable.

And it worked.

He took in a breath, and let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally leaving after a couple seconds of the breath.

“Sorry about the argument”, he mumbled the apology, eyes tilted downwards, focus on the ground. “I shouldn’t have—“

“Hey”, you cut him off, knuckle from your free hand coming up, gently nudging his chin up so he could look at you, eyes that swirled with the power of the Force onto yours, that only caught the reflection of the light in the room, and the reflection of Ezra in front of you. “That was just a stupid argument. That doesn’t matter now.”

“But it does!”, he exclaimed in a whisper, irises boring into yours. You swear, you could see your own soul reflected through them. ”I went out of line and blamed you for being careless and—“

“You really think that argument has any affect on me right now?”, you ask, raising a brow. “Karabast, I was literally tortured, I would love to go back to when that argument was the most of my worries.”

That was only last week that that argument happened. So trivial, compared to the events that unfurled.

So trivial compared to the burns on your sides, the ache in your ribs, the twinges of pain from your bruises and the black eye that plagued your left eye.

It hurt emotionally, sure.

But what you wouldn’t give to go back to that being the only kind of pain that swirled in your mind.

Before even you realized what was happening, through the haze of the loud thoughts that made up your mind at the moment, Ezra’s other hand disconnected from the rag that cleaned up your dried blood, and reconnected with your other cheek on the other side of your face, away from the black eye. He nudged away a stray tear with one of his knuckles, and brushed his thumb over the swell of your cheek once more began to slowly tumble out. Mainly from the one eye you could actually see out of properly, the one eye that went wide after you mentioned the torture you endured, the one eye that let that tear go loose, providing other tears with enough confidence to start falling as well.

“I was tortured, Ezra.” Your voice went quiet, strained.

It was only then that you realized just how horrified you were.

Strange, how some feelings of anxiety didn’t pop up until way later, once you were actually processing whatever kind of traumatic event you just went through. Other times the anxiety bubbles up pretty quickly, during whatever you were going through - even if it was just a normal, calm situation that somehow made your anxiety act up. But this time, it took you a week to actually feel the damned fear that wouldn’t actually allow you to sleep very much throughout the time you were being held at the facility.

Then again, you were also doing your best to keep a level head the whole time. To keep yourself from spilling anything. To keep yourself sane.

Maybe it was the fact that you were finally in the comfort of your own home, in front of your partner no less, that made you feel comfortable enough to grab onto the bad feelings again, rather than to just force them down until they were too much for you.

Your eyes blurred Ezra out of focus due to the burning tears that bubbled up behind your eyelids. You screwed them both shut, and gulp with a shaky breath. Ezra furrowed his brow again - this time, however, they were pointed more upwards than downwards.

Still keeping his hands in the same places on your neck and cheek, he lifted his head from resting against yours and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, staying there for a couple seconds, just to linger. Mainly for his own comfort, to remind himself you were physically there with him, and also to remind you of that as well.

After that he wrapped you up in another hug, gentler this time. One you leaned into, your forehead coming to rest on his shoulder, near the crook of his neck. The hand on your cheek moved to the back of your head, lightly pressed into your hair, and his other hand on the side of your neck, just under your jawline and ear, moved to your back, pulling you forward for the hug that you graciously accepted.

He nudged his nose onto the crown of your head, placing another soft and comforting kiss there. “Took you that long to figure it out, huh?”, he murmured, voice soft with an air of humor. Just the slightest lilt to make things much less strenuous than they seemed.

“Shut up, Bridger”, you sniffed, lightly punching his arm, a chuckle spilling out between the both of you. The hug tightened just a little bit, the hand you punched Ezra’s arm with holding onto the sleeve of his orange jacket he always wore.

“Sorry, sorry”, he apologized, laying his cheek down on the top of your head. “Had to joke about this somehow, right?”

You let out a breathy laugh, followed by a sigh, quiet and exhausted. “Right…”

A silence fell over the two of you. Ezra let out a sigh through his nose a couple minutes into it. “You’re safe now, ok? You know that, right?”

The message was quiet, a soft mumble only meant for your ears. The tension in your own shoulders began to ease a little, much like his minutes beforehand.

Your arm moved from his jacket to around his neck again, pulling the hug even closer, just to be nearer to him. Just for more comfort. For your peace of mind to remind yourself that you’re home.

You’re safe.

You’re with Ezra.

Things are fine for now.

Everything will be alright for now.

Just for right now. Which is all you could ask for at that moment.

“I know.”, you mumbled back. You sigh out of relief, of being there with Ezra, in the comforting arms of home, in the surprisingly comforting metal rooms of home, deciding against breaking the hug for the time being.

Until Ezra broke it himself.

“Oh c’mon, Ez!”, you complained. “I was just getting comfortable, dude!”

“You were falling asleep on me”, he responded back, grabbing the rag he was using to clean off the dried blood from your injuries strewn about your skin. He stood up to get more water for it, along with a cooler ice-pack for the nasty bruise on your eye.

“Like I said, I was just getting comfortable!”

“You can get comfortable and sleep on my shoulder after I’m done taking care of your injuries - and after we’re sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have a concussion.”

“I’m not convinced.”

You groan, leaning back on your arms as Ezra gathers the supplies you need from one of the medical kits that came from the medical crates you were supposed to get from your mission beforehand. “Stars, you’re just as stubborn as Chopper - like friend like droid, y’know?”, you say with a playful scoff.

Ezra laughed. It was less of a chuckle now, more genuine. Good. You liked it when he laughed. “I could say the same thing about you, y’know—“ you interrupted him with a indignant noise, absolutely appalled that he would ever compare your stubbornness to the astro-mech. You were the only one allowed to do that, how dare he?

“I’m not that stubborn—“

Another laugh bubbled out from Ezra, and you couldn’t help but smile at it. It was a noise that never failed to brighten your day, even in the darkest of hours.

A chuckle made it’s way out of your throat again as a smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, and you shook your head a little, the banter between you both continuing. Just like normal.

Just like home.

Maybe some things were definitely worth getting tortured over.

If you could keep the base safe, the Ghost safe, and Ezra safe, you’d do it all over again, no matter what.

You’d always protect your home from the Empire.

Even if your home wasn’t always protecting you.

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junkiespromise · 2 years ago

Text

𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 | 𝐩𝐠𝟏𝟎

pairing: pierre gasly x fem!reader

summary: All the love she ever knew was one that hurted and burned but at a Parisian coffe shop on a wednesday she realized that maybe that was not all that love had to offer.

warnings: some angst mentioned because of the subject of the song.

notes: hey! my first story for the eras masterlist is finally here, so sorry it took me so long, i had a bit of a writers block, hope you enjoy it, also remember that if you want to ask for anything the requests are still open <3

masterlist

Took a deep breath in the mirror

Her apartment felt lonely now that he was gone, she was so used to the always present sound of his voice or some football match none of them paid attention to that now, in the quiet of her bedroom she also felt lonely.

Y/N felt as if a part of him was still trapped with her in that apartment, his things were still there and his smell on the shirts lingered as if they had been worn only a few days ago. It was unhealthy, she knew, that to keep reminding herself of him and what they could've been was probably one of the most self-destructing things she could do, but her mind just couldn't do anything else but go to the back of her mind and bring out memories of them.

She had spent hours looking at their room, now only hers; the feeling of his hands on her body still lingered over her every day. But she knew she could not hold that lifestyle for much longer because people would start worrying and she hated when they asked about her life; she thought she could solve her problems on her own with no help needed from anyone.

He didn't like it when I wore high heels

But I do

But ironically she found herself accepting the proposal of her friend to have a date, a blind date with a guy she had never met before and whose only information she had was his name, Pierre. She didn't really have good luck with the french but Y/N reminded herself that she needed it, she needed to meet new people, hiding away from the dating world and encapsulating herself in the same routinary life couldn't happen anymore.

Lily had set them up for a coffee date. While Y/N ended the last touches of her makeup and looked at the clothes she could wear, she put as a background sound, which was always needed, the multiple five-minute long audio messages she had sent. Where she told her trivial things but just one thing truly stuck around; "Wear your favorite shoes, those heels you love, the black ones"

Y/N stared at herself in the mirror, she could only see her face and top as she bent down to check her makeup. Taking a deep breath in, she sat on the edge of her bed and slipped her black shoes on. And in the action, she remembered how he didn't like it when she wore high heels, and the hour-long arguments about what she liked and what he didn't like her to wear.

She shook her head slightly with the intention of blurring out those memories and got up from the wine-red sheets that decorated the twin-size bed and started pacing around the room, thinking about all the possible outcomes of the date and trying to find the courage to go.

. . . . . . .

The weather in Paris was not the best on those days, it rained too often for her and her hair's own good and even when she told herself that the cold days were not that bad, they were. The cobblestone streets were still humid from the midnight rain of the prior day, making her do an effort to get to the cafe without slipping on them. Her shoes click-clacked on the sidewalk's grey tiles and stopped when she reached the corner of it where a small coffee shop stood.

Y/N took a deep breath in and walked inside, the chime rang inside the small cafe, a few heads turning to look at her hastily before focusing once again on their prior actions. It wasn't too crowded, usual for a Wednesday afternoon. A warmness hugged her when she stepped in, the heating of the place suddenly replacing the before feeling of coldness.

Walked in expecting you'd be late

She was six or seven minutes late, used to her ex-boyfriend always arriving late to the dates he planned but reproaching her when she showed up a few minutes after the clock hit the hour they had agreed upon. She didn't know how she was supposed to know who the guy was, her friend didn't even give her a physical description of him.

Y/N approached the counter and quietly asked for a Latte and a Croissant. While she waited she looked around, paying attention to the people, imagining their lives, what they worked as if they had studied something and what, and then she moved on to the furniture, the trinkets that decorated empty parts of shelves and the antique tables covered by sheer white tablecloths.

"Order for Pierre" She heard who she assumed would also give her the order say, the name made her head turn, and right there was when she connected with probably the most beautiful pair of blue eyes she had ever seen. He was now looking back at her probably after feeling her stare.

But you got here early and you stand and wave

I walk to you

As she approached him, Y/N couldn't help but realize how handsome he was, Lily had told her that he was but she didn't imagine it. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle under the rays of sunshine that faintly reached his face also making his hair seem blonder.

"Hey, this is weird, I'm sorry I'm not the best at blind dates but, I'm Y/N, Lily's friend." She said and as the realization that she was the girl he had been waiting for settled in he warmly smiled, making Y/N's nervousness slightly dissipate.

"Ah, yes, bonjour Y/N. It's great to finally meet you, truly. You are even more gorgeous than I imagined" Her cheeks flushed as the words left his mouth, the man in front of her offered his hand to her to shake and she accepted gladly.

They both sat down at a corner table beside one of the windows. The conversation started rather awkwardly, as most first conversations on blind dates do but both of them easily connected, faster than she thought they would.

"So, how do you know Lily," He asked before taking a sip of his cup "She's the first person that I friend-shipped I guess, when I first got to Paris" Pierre nodded, noticing that she was going to keep talking, not wanting to interrupt her. "How do you know her?"

"Well, she's the girlfriend of a friend of mine and, by the way, she talked her tongue out about how amazing you were, that's how she convinced me to come" She laughed at his words, Lily could certainly be a lot sometimes "Yeah, she was like that with me too, I haven't dated in a while so when I told her I was coming she was more excited than me" He laughed at her words "Not like I wasn't excited to come you know she was just super happy I am excited yeah but-" Her rumbling was rapidly stopped by his voice that told her not to worry and he understood what she meant.

And you throw your head back laughing

Like a little kid

As they chatted Pierre couldn't help but notice the way Y/N's eyes sparkled each time she talked about her passions, making him want to know more about the girl, to explore every inch of her mind and soul, something he hadn't felt about anyone ever, especially not on a first date, and Y/N couldn't help but notice how he laughed at her jokes and didn't roll his eyes at them like he used to do each time she did or said something relatively funny.

We tell stories and you don't know why

I'm coming off a little shy

But I do

While the chat went on she found her heart skipping a beat when he laughed or touched her hand that was resting above the table and she began to feel a sense of hope in his words, Pierre's presence warmed her wounded heart, and found herself opening up to him in a way she hadn't with no one else, not even her stupid ex-boyfriend.

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny, 'cause

He never did

"Sometimes my mind wonders if I will ever find love again you know." She confessed, and their conversation had turned to a deeper tone now. "But also starting something from scratch is so hard"

"Trust me, I know the feeling ma belle" The nickname made her blush "But I'm certain that sometimes love comes knocking on your door so suddenly you don't even realize it"

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does

Is break and burn, and end

As the afternoon set in and those who had entered the cafe while they talked had left she realized she had never felt that way before about anyone on a first date, she couldn't help but feel drawn to him in a way.

Their conversation continued until the cafe started to close, obligating them to leave, but they couldn't end it there, and as if it was natural they left the cafe still talking and what was supposed to be a two-minute-long walk to her car turned into a walk around the city; they strolled through the cobbled streets laughing and chatting

And we walked down the block, to my car

And I almost brought him up

But you start to talk about the movies

That your family watches every single Christmas

Both of them ended up sitting alongside the Seine River watching the water flow past them. They enjoyed the comfortable quietness of the moment. Eventually, Y/N turned to him and said "I have to admit, I was nervous about this date, I haven't been to one for a while, but in all seriousness, I'm really glad I came."

Pierre felt a warmness in his chest as she pronounced those words. He knew he felt the same way she did but he couldn't find in his mind the right to express them verbally. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her lips, softly, to which she quickly responded in the same way.

As they pulled away from the several-second lasting kiss, Pierre whispered "We should go on a second date after this, right?" She giggled and nodded before kissing him again.

And I want to talk about that

And for the first time

What's past is past

They both now knew that their blind date had been something they would never regret and the start of an endless connection. And they were also endlessly grateful to Lily for setting them up, who by the way, would never shut up about how it was thanks to her that they had happened.

They found love in the most unexpected of places, and they knew they would cherish it for a long time.

But on a Wednesday in a cafe

I watched it begin again

taglist ;; @amayakingw @f1wh0r3 @misiafix @dan3avocado @thtbwltts @myaurorasandsadprose @qualitygiantshoepsychic @myescapefromthislife @light-23 @magical-imagination-kgp @leclercsbae @here-comes-the-moon @leclercs-posts

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #f1 x taylor swift #taylor swift x f1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one fanfic #Spotify

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cinnamonest · 2 years ago

Note

If you’re still open for character interactions prompts, could I ask for Ayato + “Ayato, i’m so sorry to ask for such a shameful thing but… There’s been weird stuff happening around lately and it’s scaring me. Could I please stay with you for a while, until things calm down? I’m so sorry to bother you like this, I hope you’ll forgive me…” ? Thank you a lot <3

Ahhhhh I love this, ty anon

//Yandere themes, gang stalking

----

“…This is the first time you've mentioned this to me.” His eyebrows raised. He set his cup back down on the table. “Care to elaborate?”

You shifted in your place on the floor, tightening your grip on your own cup, holding it firmly against the low table. You shifted your gaze downward, rather than where he sat on the opposite side.

You had been waiting to ask, but you felt rather guilty about doing so. After all, he was the one who had graciously invited you here for tea, and you had accepted as you always did, only this time to make such a burdensome request of him… you swallowed.

“It’s… it’s really dumb, really, I’m probably just being paranoid—”

“I insist.” His voice was firm, but not angered, more of a concern in his tone. “Your face makes it obvious that you’re worried. You wouldn’t be so much so if it was completely unfounded.” After a moment, he added, “if it is just paranoia, you know I would be honest with you and tell you so. Perhaps I can help you understand the situation better?”

You bit your lip, looking around the room. Expensive-looking furniture and décor lined the walls, the floor. Even the table you rested your arms against had an ornate design carved into the sides, a fine polished finish on the top.

Being at the estate always made you feel slightly uncomfortable for that reason, you felt almost nervous being around so many expensive things, you felt out of place… but you’d gotten used to it over time. Still, it reminded you of how important he was, and thus bothering him with what you figured to be trivial issues in your own life (at least compared to the significance of the matters he dealt with on a daily basis) made you feel that much more reluctant to bring it up.

Still, you were truly quite frightened by the matter, so you forced the words out of your mouth anyway.

“I just…” you fidgeted, shifting the position of your calves as you sat on them, “I’ve noticed over the past few months that… I keep feeling like there are people following me around,” you started, stumbling over exactly how to word it. “More than one person, too… I don’t know. I feel like I keep seeing the same faces over and over and notice people walking the same way as me for a long time… the thing is, when I make eye contact with them, they always dart away. I dunno, that especially seemed... strange."

He was quiet for a moment. You couldn’t quite read his expression. He didn’t show any outward emotion in particular, but his eyebrows seemed to furrow slightly, he sat more upright, fingers drumming against the cup. He appeared to be thinking seriously about your words.

“If you’ve noticed it this frequently, it’s likely serious,” he replied, after a moment of quiet. “That sounds perfectly reasonable to be concerned over, in my opinion."

“N-no, I don’t…” You shook your head. “I don’t know. I’m probably being paranoid and convincing myself of it... why would there be people spying on me anyway? It would be one thing if it was one person, but…” You inhaled, and sighed. “I can’t think of any reason multiple people would follow me. I’m not involved in politics like you or anything.”

“…Yes, that’s true.” He leaned back, tilting his gaze to the wall. His eyebrows furrowed further, and he sighed, almost with a frustration to it. With his next words, his voice took on a hint of irritation. “If assigned to watch you without being noticed, it sounds as though the individuals in question are perhaps not performing their job very well.”

There was a quiet that followed. The sentence felt like an odd choice of response, and the tone bizarre for such a thing to say. It thus threw you off, leaving you unable to form a reply. You merely looked at him for a moment at you thought through it. "You think it's like... their job to watch me?"

His gaze flickered over to you, and seeing the expression on your face, he seemed to go rigid, quickly straightening his posture, tilting his head downward and giving one shake of the head back and forth. “Just one possibility… but never mind that.” He looked back up at you, eyes directly meeting yours. “You really should not have waited for me to invite you over to tell me about this.” He leaned back just a bit, releasing his grip from his cup, hands intertwined and resting on the table. “In truth, I’m a bit bothered to know that you would delay telling me this. You should have come to me as soon as you had this suspicion.”

You felt a twinge of guilt and distress at the tone of his voice. He always managed to maintain a certain calm, dignified tone of voice, but you could hear the frustration in it, even if restrained. “O-oh, I’m sorry. I just…” You averted your gaze, looking everywhere but at him. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’re busy.”

He shook his head. “I’m never so busy that your safety would not take priority. I would prefer it if you prioritized your safety as well. Don't be careless."

You swallowed, quickly nodding. "Y-yes, you're right... I will." Although the answer seemed obvious now, you reiterated your original question. “So… that’s a yes, then? I can stay here?”

He blinked, eyebrows raising as he realized he’d momentarily forgotten the question itself. “Ah, apologies,” he closed his eyes for a brief moment. “I got caught up in talking about the matter.” He smiled, that pleasant, soft smile of his that always felt so reassuring. “Of course. You don’t need a reason to stay here, you know. You’re always welcome.”

“Thank you! Thank you, I…” You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale of relief. “I… well, thank you for the tea, too, but I should probably go get my things. I didn’t bring anything with me because I just… wasn’t sure if—"

“No need.” His response was immediate. “I will send someone to collect them for you. It’s already nearly sundown. I don’t want you walking out there, given everything you’ve told me.” He paused, and then, in a quieter, lower tone, added, “…besides, I need to have a talk with some of the Shuumatsuban anyhow. I’ll see to it that they take care of that as well.”

You felt guilty for imposing such a burden, but you nodded your head. You knew he would insist upon it if you tried to refuse. “Thank you, Lord Kam…” you trailed off as his expression changed – a raised eyebrow, a soft smile of amusement. You remembered how many times you’d been over the matter now. “Ayato,” you corrected yourself, flashing a sheepish smile. It still felt almost wrong to your tongue, no matter how much he insisted, to be so casual with someone of his social hierarchal standing.

He merely chuckled, seeming to find it endearing. A few moments passed in silence. He stared down at the cup in his hands, grin slowly fading, eyes falling half-lidded. After taking a deep breath, and taking a moment to tuck a tuft of hair behind his ear, he abruptly stood.

“If you’re done, just leave everything on the table. I’ll send someone to clean up. Please, make yourself at home." He smiled at you once more, although this time, it seemed just a touch forced. "I’ll send someone to show you to a guest room in just a moment as well. And be sure have your keys on hand to give to them, they'll need it to get into your residence."

His voice was pleasant, amiable, and yet, there was a faint coldness to it, as if rushing things. You supposed he was truly worried, which was sweet, you thought. You still felt guilty about it all.

He took a few steps towards the door, sliding it open, but paused before exiting. He turned his head back towards you.

“You know, if you want to move here permanently, that is also an option that I would be happy to offer to you. This whole estate is very well-guarded. It’s far safer than the city.”

Your eyes widened. The statement, such a generous offer, caught you off-guard. “Oh, no, I… I could never ask you to—”

“Really. It’s no trouble. It would be quite reassuring for me to know you’re safe.” He waited a moment, but seemed to understand from your bewildered expression that you would not be formulating a response for the moment. He closed his eyes pensively for a moment, before opening them again to look at you once more. “Well, I’ll let you think it over. Someone will be by in just a minute, so, wait here for now.”

You gave an awkward smile. “Oh, ah… alright. Thank you.”

He only nodded, saying nothing more before exiting the room, leaving you alone in the quiet. For some reason, despite the reassurance, you still felt a faint hint of unease in the back of your mind… you concerns must have just bothered you more than you’d realized.

#methinks I will tag these from now on even though theyre kinda short #yandere genshin impact #yandere ayato #rip poor shuumatsuban boutta get chewed out 😔#.ay

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