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afra-blueraz · 20 days

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|| Diabolik Lovers Secret Memories Headcanons ||

Shu knew Yui since childhood and was secretly in love with her.

He and Yui were best friends at school when they were teenagers and secretly dated each other.

Shu was from a noble family, that's why he hid his love for Yui from everyone.

Their memories and secret dates continued for years.

Shu always dated Yui in one of the farthest cafes in the city and always brought her flowers as a gift.

One day he held her hand in a flower shop and kissed her for the first time and proposed to her.

They run away together to start their romantic life away from the hustle and bustle of others.

Reiji first met Yui at university.

Yui was a beautiful, dignified and very hardworking girl.

Yui and Reiji always met each other in the university library.

Yui always got help from Reiji for her studies.

Over time, Reiji fell in love with Yui and the two started dating.

Reiji always invited Yui to the park, library and cafe.

One day Reiji proposed to Yui in a park with a bouquet of flowers and a beautiful ring and gently hugged her and kissed her lips.

Reiji introduced Yui to his family and introduced her as his future wife.

Ayato is one of the bad boys in high school that all the girls liked.

But he secretly had a crush on one of the most beautiful and cutest girls in his class, but he never revealed it.

He always teased and bullied Yui.

But when no one sees them, he kisses her and smiles at her.

No one knew about Yui and Ayato's relationship. They only spent time together after finishing school and sometimes went to the cinema together.

On one of the rainy nights when the two of them were under the rain, Ayato threw his jacket over Yui's head and kissed her.

and told her that she will be only Ayato's forever.

Kanato was a boy who had no friends because of his mental problems.

Yui was the only one who was kind to him and loved him.

Kanato loved Yui. More than anyone else.

In his opinion, Yui was as beautiful as dolls.

Yui and Kanato used to go to the doll shop together and Yui decorated various dolls for Kanato.

Kanato had a rich family bought Yui a lot of clothes because he wanted her to be beautiful like dolls.

On Valentine's Day, Kanato buys a teddy bear for Yui and kisses her and expresses his love to her.

Laito fell in love with Yui from the first day he saw her and kept flirting with her.

Yui was very shy at first, but when their relationship became serious, Yui gradually got used to it.

Laito's favorite place to hang out with Yui was in the park, and every time they sat on the bench and talked, Laito would kiss Yui's cheek every time Yui smiled.

Laito had told Yui many times that he would like to date her at home to do exciting things, but Yui was embarrassed and refused every time.

Finally, on an autumn day while they were sitting in the park and watching the orange leaves, Laito kissed Yui and proposed to her.

Subaru had a crush on Yui from the first time he met her.

Known as the scary and lonely high school boy, Subaru had no friends.

But he saved Yui many times from school bullies and blushed every time he looked at her.

Yui kissed his cheek every time to thank him and Subaru blushed more and just shouted.

They always saw each other in the school gym.

Yui always liked to share her food with Subaru because apparently Subaru didn't have any food with him.

Yui was the one who took the lead in inviting him and invited him for a walk several times.

Finally, on a rainy day, while they were taking shelter in a small store with wet clothes, Subaru wiped the raindrops on Yui's cheek with his finger and kissed her lips and proposed to her.

Ruki was a genius in high school and Yui was his classmate.

Yui and Ruki were grouped together in a school project.

They met in the school library to work on this project.

Yui admired Ruki a lot and always tried to help him.

According to Ruki, Yui was a very cute and clumsy girl, but he praised her efforts.

Ruki gradually became interested in Yui and asked her for date.

Their dates were usually in libraries or book cafes where they could spend time together in a quiet place.

With the passing of time, Ruki became very fond of Yui's sweet and kind personality and gave her the title of angel.

Ruki always brings Yui chocolates and books as gifts.

One day in a quiet library, while Yui was explaining her favorite book to Ruki and smiling sweetly, Ruki gently grabbed Yui's waist and pulled her towards him and kissed her lips.

Ruki gave Yui a ring and proposed to her on a spring day at a spring festival where they were both wearing kimonos.

Kou was a famous Japanese idol who secretly had a crush on his classmate Yui Komori.

But because of his job, he had never announced this publicly.

One day, while wearing a mask so that no one would recognize him and walking in the city, he saw Yui staring at his billboard.

He was so excited that he decided to announce it on the TV show and introduce Yui as his crush.

Kou had confessed to Yui at school and Yui was very embarrassed.

Kou repeatedly invited Yui to the Carnival and park.

The two of them had a very good relationship and most of their dates were secret, and Kou wore black clothes and a mask in most of the dates so that no one would recognize him.

But some time later, Yui was harassed by Kou's fangirls in social media.

This upset Kou so much that he quit his job and ran away with Yui to another city.

They started a happy life together and after two years, Kou proposed to Yui in a park while kissing her.

Yuma first met Yui in the school greenhouse.

Each of the students had a responsibility and Yui was in charge of the greenhouse. Yuma also joined Yui.

The school's greenhouse didn't have a good situation, but after months of Yuma and Yui's efforts, it revived.

Yuma gradually fell in love with Yui and their secret dates were in the greenhouse.

Finally, one day Yuma kissed Yui in the greenhouse and expressed his love for her.

Azusa was a strange boy who was always bullied by students because of his strange behavior.

Yui defended him once and that made Azusa fall in love with Yui.

At first, Azusa was very clingy and this scared Yui.

But as time passed, Yui realized how sweet and kind Azusa is and fell in love with him.

Azusa and Yui's dates were in the school art class and secretly so that no one would disturb Azusa.

Azusa always gave his handmade gifts to Yui.

One day, while Azusa had invited Yui for a walk in a park, he took her hand in his and kissed her and proposed to her.

Carla was a transfer student who apparently came from an noble family.

All the students were afraid of him and no one wanted to be in his group except Yui.

Yui was paired with Carla in the school project and helped him a lot.

Carla found Yui charming and kind and liked her sweet and kind personality.

Carla invited Yui to his family mansion and confessed to her in a lavish dance ceremony.

Some time passed and Carla bought a lot of expensive gifts for Yui and they had many dates together.

Several years later, at a family dance, Carla got down on one knee in front of Yui and proposed to Yui, and kissed her when Yui accepted.

Shin was a transfer student from a noble family.

Unlike his older brother, he did not behave like an noble at all and was a noisy student.

He was very scary and all the students were afraid of his bullying.

The only one who stood up to his abuse was Yui.

The fact that a petite girl didn't obey him bothered Shin a lot, and he tried to bully Yui more, but it didn't work.

Shin decided to tease Yui in another way, that's why he decided to play the role of her lover.

One day he confessed to her but Yui refused.

Shin got more and more annoyed by Yui's behavior but decided to trap Yui in the secret places of the school and punish her.

But every time he did that, he found himself unable to tease her until one day he couldn't control himself and kissed her.

Kino was a student who did not have a good relationship with his family and his only friend was Yui.

He was friends with Yui since childhood and their friendship continued until high school.

Since Kino had a family issues, Yui's affection gave him a good feeling and he fell in love with Yui from an early age.

But he never told her anything.

One day, Kino invited Yui to a game club and confessed to Yui there.

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munson-blurbs · 7 months

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie's rejection made you question your own hopes and dreams, but the consequences were even more dire for him. (3.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, depiction of alcoholism, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter three: turn the lights back on

Eddie left during Dad’s shift on Friday. Over the years, there were more than a handful of guests who’d put up a fight when check out day arrived, but he wasn’t one of them.

When you’d inquired about his departure, as nonchalantly as you could, Dad only said that Eddie had signed the log and walked off without any formal goodbye.

“What time?”

“Six-thirty, or thereabouts. No later than seven.”

Almost as if he’d waited for you to clock out. Purposely avoiding you.

You shrugged off the thought, chastising yourself for taking a harmless coincidence so personally. Maybe he had to be somewhere early or wanted to beat the rush hour traffic. Maybe he didn’t even take your presence—or lack thereof—into consideration.

He did, however, swipe the blanket from his bed, leaving behind just the pillow and a rumpled sheet. Disappointment wove its way through your veins at its finality. He was simply another guest, another face stored in the depths of your memory with some many other one-timers.

Making a mental note to replace the blanket before the summer crowd arrived, you stripped the remaining sheet and pillowcase and made the bed with clean ones. The fabric was so worn that it was nearly transparent, barely concealing the litany of stains that decorated the old mattress.

Eddie didn’t appear to have added any to the collection. That was something, you supposed.

Your Friday and Saturday evenings were always spent the same way: watching groups of friends traipse up and down the boulevard, laughing at jokes that were only funny because everyone was on the right side of tipsy. Rain or shine, teenagers could always be counted on to frequent the local bars and liquor stores that didn't bother to check for identification.

Sundays brought the usual sense of existential dread; the week ahead was daunting and the week prior was a blur of exhaustion. A new guest checked in, an older woman who’d missed her flight out of LaGuardia and needed a place to stay until the next plane took off in the morning. You almost put her in room four, the key temptingly dangling from its hook, but you plucked the one for room three instead.

And then Monday arrived, baring its ugly teeth in a menacing grimace. It exhaled a rancid puff of morning breath, the same smell that belched from the bus’s tailpipe.

Backpack sagging low with the weight of overpriced textbooks, you dragged yourself towards the bus stop. Your only reprieve is that today marked the last week of classes. All that remained after that was finals week, and then you were done.

The typical small collection of commuters greeted you in traditional New York City fashion: tired half-smiles with a respectful lack of eye contact that you reflexively reciprocated. One of the older men sat on the bench, but the normally empty spot next to him was occupied by none other than Eddie Munson. He kept his guitar case safely clenched between his thighs, his garbage bag suitcase leaning against his left leg.

Curiosity nudged you and wormed its way into your thoughts. Where was he going? Was he staying at a different motel, one that had cable so he could watch MTV whenever he needed?

Or maybe he was en route to Port Authority so he could high-tail it back to not-New York, to his hometown where people considered it polite to strike up conversations with strangers.

Wherever his destination was, it was no longer your problem.

If he noticed you, he gave no indication. His vacant stare never left the ground, vaguely looking up one time to light a cigarette. He cupped a hand around the flame, blocking his view of you.

It was probably better that way.

The bus hissed as it pulled up to the stop and the doors hinged open to let passengers board. Would he sit next to you? Would he position himself as far away as possible? Or was he wholly indifferent, regarding the exchange as out of sight and out of mind?

Taking a seat towards the back, you searched for him in the sea of faces. You could apologize, explain you were only trying to help and never meant to embarrass him, and the two of you could part ways knowing that you didn’t look down on him.

But there was no sign of the frizzy curls that he wore like a crown, no guitar case inching into the aisle. For all intents and purposes, this bus was an Eddie Munson-free zone.

A disappointed ache settled in your chest and you massaged your sternum in hopes of alleviating it. When the driver turned the wheel away from the curb, you caught a glimpse of Eddie through the fingerprint-smudged window, sitting on the bench just as he had since you’d arrived.

Except this time, he was looking directly at you. It was intentional; he’d seen you waiting at the stop and waited until conversation was an impossibility before daring to glance your way.

He averted his gaze the moment your eyes locked onto his. It was so fast that you worried that you’d imagined it. A sleep-deprived hallucination, even.

You didn’t stop looking even as the bus left the stop. You watched him toss his cigarette butt to the ground and crush it with the sole of his sneaker. You watched him take another one and place it between his lips. You watched trembling fingers dig into his jacket pocket and take out the lighter once again.

He was out of sight before you could see a spark.

Excitement hummed through campus, a live wire that electrified even you. It was hard to ignore the end-of-semester buzz, especially with the sun warming the air in a soft spotlight.

Other students sat on the quad, blankets tucked underneath them as they ate lunch with friends. Their mouths moved in conversations about exam cramming and upcoming parties and post-graduation plans. You wanted to bottle their lightheartedness and carry it around with you, dipping into it when life got too serious and dabbing it on your pulse points like perfume.

Fluorescent bulbs replaced the natural light as you walked the hall towards the classroom. You slid into your usual spot and placed your bag on the adjacent chair to reserve it for Nora. Until she arrived, you’d be left alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.

Great.

The memory of the other night, of Eddie’s sullen expression and the way his lips hardened into a frown, was a stone in your stomach.

How could he think that you pitied him, looked down on him for his circumstances? Wasn’t it obvious from the motel’s disrepair that you weren’t exactly living in the lap of luxury either? And yet, he’d perceived your attempt at an alliance as some sort of enemy threat. You wanted to shake his shoulders and yell, “we’re on the same team!” but it would probably just bounce off of his MTV-obsessed brain without him ever processing it.

Eddie’s reaction wasn’t the only part of the confrontation that bothered you. No, what really drove you to the brink of insanity was that the confrontation bothered you at all.

How many guests were snippy or even downright mean to you over the years? How many had raised their voice over the most trivial matter? You had lost count of the number of times someone had spat the word ‘bitch’ in your direction because of low water pressure or a lightbulb that needed replacing.

And yet, this is the instance that grated at you, had you wondering if he’d looked away from you this afternoon out of disdain, guilt, embarrassment, or some combination of the three.

It shouldn’t have even mattered. So what if he hated you? He was out of the motel, which meant that his problems were no longer your concern.

The click of the door being wrenched open forced you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

“Last week of classes!” Nora trilled with a wide grin. She practically skipped to your side, slinging her backpack over the wooden chair back. “Then we have finals,” she contorted her face in disgust before resuming her excited disposition, “and then we graduate!”

She plopped down in her seat, adjusting her body to face you. “That reminds me; we should probably figure out where we’re going to meet before the ceremony, because I am not sitting through that alo—what?” She frowned when you flinched, the realization setting in. “Nonono, don’t tell me you’re not going.”

“Sorry,” you offered half-heartedly. The pen markings on your desk suddenly became incredibly interesting, and you rubbed your forefinger over them in a feeble attempt to end the conversation.

As usual, Nora refused to accept defeat. “Still haven’t told your parents?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, you’ve got two weeks.” She clapped you on the back a bit too harshly, her lips pinched with an edge of impatience. “Time to put on those big-girl panties.”

She meant well–she always did, doing everything in her power to encourage you to pursue the career you wanted. But she just didn’t understand the mounting pressure to be what your family needed, or how you were constantly towing the line between selfishness and dignity. One step in the wrong direction and you would either crush your parents’ dreams or your own. And while there had to be some gray area there, it was overshadowed by the polarizing categories.

“I’ll try.”

You won’t.

You spent the class forcing yourself to listen to the professor, jotting down notes every so often when you could remember to do so.

Paying attention to lectures, final papers and exams, the graduation ceremony–it all seemed asinine when you considered your failure to help people on the most basic level. Like with Eddie: as hard as you tried to emphasize the mutual benefits of him working at the motel, you’d still inadvertently offended him.

When were you going to learn to stop extending help to people who weren’t asking for any? In these situations, you tossed logic aside to make room for emotion. It had been that way since you first began to understand that answers to life’s problems were seldom clear-cut.

There was one day in particular, where rain fell in sheets and your only option was to play indoors. You were jumping rope in the lobby, excitedly counting along with each skip.

“Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty—”

The rope smacked against your ankles, but you were too distracted to feel the sting. Your eyes were glued to a man who was stumbling towards the front desk. He wobbled in his whiskey-drenched cloud, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before collapsing to the ground in sudden hysterical sobs.

“Everything okay, sir?” Dad asked. His inconspicuous hand motioned you towards your room, but you froze in place. It wasn’t fear so much as shock that a grown-up was having a temper tantrum.

The man didn’t answer; instead, he took a swig from the brown paper bag clutched in his hand. Amber liquid trickled out from between his lips as he cried, and he slowly pushed himself up and out the front door without acknowledging anyone else’s presence. Raindrops pelted down on his head and matted whatever hair was left on his head

“Why was he crying?” You’d asked Dad, the jump rope now all but forgotten. “And what was in the bag?”

Dad gave you a small smile and did his best to explain the adult situation to a child. Even now, you remembered him talking about how drinking alcohol can make people feel happy, sad, or angry. He omitted the fact that all three emotions could occur in the same person, in the same moment, but your eight-year-old mind wouldn’t have comprehended that anyway.

Ever inquisitive, you continued asking questions. “But if it makes him sad, why doesn’t he just stop?”

“It’s not that easy,” Dad said with a tight grimace.

You’d considered his response for a moment, eyes lighting up when you conjured up a brilliant idea. “What if we go in his room and throw out all of his alcohol!” You tugged on Dad’s hand, expecting him to reciprocate your enthusiasm, but he’d stayed where he was and shook his head.

“Afraid it doesn’t work that way, kiddo. He’s gotta want to stop drinking first.”

It hadn’t made sense to you then, and though you’d learned about the nuances of addiction as the years crept by, it didn’t do much to quell your frustration. Any solution being beyond your control was a piranha ripping into your ambitions with its razor-sharp teeth.

The Eddie situation gave you that same helpless feeling. If you could turn back the clock, you would have done something different. You weren’t sure exactly what would be different, but it would almost certainly be better than your spur-of-the-moment offer last Wednesday.

But since time travel was out of the question and Eddie was no longer one of your guests, both he and his problems were out of your hands.

If only your heart could accept that.

A reel of your shortcomings played in your mind on a continuous loop; it still gnawed at you as class was dismissed, the professor calling out a reminder about final paper submission while you and Nora walked out the door.

“Are you okay?” She frowned and put out a gentle hand to bring you to a stop.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

She wasn’t falling for that lame excuse, not when something heavier than sleep marred your face. “Seriously. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you ever feel like you’ll never actually help anyone?”

The words came out in a rush before you could curtail them. Wincing, you allowed yourself a peek at your friend’s expression. Confusion knitted her brows together, but her arms stayed at her sides.

“What do you mean?” Her words were soft and careful, distinctly absent of judgment or condescension.

A monologue of response was lodged in your throat. It was a thought you held inside, silently rehearsed but never dared to speak aloud:

Are we really going to make a difference? Or enough of a difference that it even matters? Like when you see a homeless person and you give them some money, or buy them something to eat. And you feel good for a split second, because now that person isn’t going to be hungry for a little while, right? But then you pass by another homeless person. And another. And you realize that, to them, it doesn’t matter that you helped someone else. Because those other people are still hungry.

You said none of it, swallowing the words and replacing them with a, “never mind, I’m too in my own head today.”

Nora nodded, not wanting to push too hard, but you knew she was teeming with questions. She offered a small smile that told you the conversation wasn’t over, just paused temporarily.

A nod of your own sealed the compromise.

The rest of the afternoon played out without a hiccup. Lunch was your usual greasy sandwich from Niko with a side of his irritated banter, this time about the price of gas.

“You girls think it won’t affect you because you take the bus,” he warned, finger wagging between you and Nora, “but just watch them hike up the fare. It’s only a matter of time. Especially with those new card things you gotta use.”

His fears were unfounded, at least for the moment, and you and Nora each dropped $1.25 into the coin slot.

“About what you said earlier,” she started, finding space to wrap her hands on the pole, “we don’t have to talk about it—”

“Please.”

“–but I need to tell you one thing.” Her eyes held firmly onto yours. “If anyone’s gonna make a difference in this shitty world, it’s you.”

The compliment should have illuminated you from the inside out; instead, it was a firefly’s light, barely bright enough to cast a shadow with its pathetic flickering. You ached to believe her, but it was impossible to imagine that the same person who wouldn’t tell her parents a simple truth could also change the world.

“Thanks.” One word compounded with a forced smile, and the truce snapped back in place. Weighing potential conversation topics, you settled on the most neutral–the final paper for your class–and launched yourself into it with as much enthusiasm as you could summon for the remainder of the ride home.

There was no overt sign of Eddie when your bus pulled up to the stop. Not at first. The only indication of him was a familiar mint-colored blanket tightly wrapped around a lump laying across the bench.

It wasn’t until you stepped off of the bus and got closer that you could make out the curly brunette tendrils peeking out from the top, the blanket rising and falling with each breath he took. His face was hidden and his eyelids were screwed shut in fitful sleep, allowing you to hold onto the false hope that it wasn’t him, just someone with a similar build and hair texture. Even the frayed hems of his jeans and his scuffed sneakers sticking out from the other end of the blanket could have been a coincidence.

But there was no denying the truth once you caught a glimpse of the guitar case being hugged to his chest.

Just keep walking. Stop trying to fix things that you didn’t break. Things that didn’t ask to be fixed.

Your conscience trumped logic once again as two fingertips gently pressed against his blanket-wrapped shoulder.

“Eddie?”

His eyes flew open in an instant, revealing the delicate red lines that scarred the whites and meandered towards his brown irises. He clenched the guitar case even tighter as he jolted upright, protecting it like it was his child, and the sudden movement sent a handful of empty beef jerky wrappers floating to the ground.

Sunlight streamed through the glass panes, fragmented where it had been shattered by a rogue baseball or perhaps the crown of someone’s head, though you would have heard about it if it was the latter. It backlit him in an angelic glow, a halo comically contradicting his bitter expression.

“Fuckin’ shit–don’t scare me like that!”

The gentle, rhythmic inhales and exhales were long gone, replaced by a frantic fight-or-flight panting that flared out his nostrils. His hardened jawline softened a bit once he’d fully clawed himself out of his sleepy haze and realized that the person in front of him wasn’t a threat, just a nuisance.

“I told you; I don’t need your charity.” His lips set into a scowl and he laid back down on the bench, tugging the blanket back up to his chin.

That’s it. Conversation over. Go home.

“You certainly need my blanket, though.” Raising one eyebrow, you thumbed at the thin material to make your point.

Eddie only doubled down, sitting up once more to ball up the blanket and toss it in your direction. “Here ya go. It’s all yours.”

You caught it with one hand, the loose threads tickling your forearm.

“That’s not what I meant.” A hiss of air passed through your teeth. This was the perfect opportunity to leave him behind, to go somewhere you were needed and wanted. He had been making it abundantly clear that he’d rather live outside than spend another second with you.

And yet.

“I’m not just gonna let you sleep out here.” Tone thick with insistence, you mustered up all of your determination. The blanket was now tucked beneath your underarm and sopping up the pooling perspiration. “And it’s only a matter of time before you get mugged. With that thing,” you gesture to the instrument still in his grasp, “I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened. So you can either stay at the motel and re-wallpaper the lobby or you can kiss your precious guitar goodbye.”

Fire burned behind your eyes as you spoke, each word adding kindling. You couldn’t tell if you were doing this for his safety or your own pride, but both led to the same outcome.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just scraped his top teeth over the dead skin on his lower lip, drawing a speck of blood that went unnoticed. You stayed silent, too, the weight of his impending decision anchoring your tongue.

Finally he nodded, slowly at first, then faster as desperation seeped in, but he remained steadfast in his refusal to meet your eyes.

“Fine.” Eddie’s breath was shaky, teetering on the brink of tears, but none fell. “Just until I find a paying gig.”

He grabbed the neck of his guitar with one hand and pressed on his knee with the other. Fixing his posture, he stood tall in hopes that no one walking by would equate him with the pitiful mess who had been sleeping at a bus stop in a stolen blanket.

“Okay,” you agreed with a quiet breath, a cautious smile playing on your lips as the two of you walked back to the motel. You stayed two steps in front of him, leading the way.

He could turn heel and run. He could back out at any moment and you’d never see him again. But when you unlocked the door to room four–Eddie’s room–he was still behind you.

“I can take the blanket back,” he said, motioning to the bundle under your arm as he stepped over the threshold and into the room.

Like a phantom appendage, you’d forgotten it was there. “No. I’ll get you a fresh one.” You shook your head, finalizing the matter.

“Okay.”

No hesitation. No argument.

Maybe there was a chance you could actually help him. Maybe you didn’t ruin everything you touched.

taglist:

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #lam

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kestrelteens · 1 year

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The lovely Rhys set by @pinkbox-anye is a bit more alpha-y than what I usually convert, but I absolutely loved every item so here it is! 🐇

I'm literally obsessed with decorating kitchens and can never have enough clutter and these objects looked good enough to eat I swear! 🐛 I have some more sets from Anye coming up, keep an eye out for them!

I have managed to significantly lower the number of polys on all of the items and most textures are 512x512 (they're very high quality so the difference is minimal but your texture memory will be thankful). 🌼

The items list as well as the unedited preview are under the cut! Everything's compressed, enjoy! ♥

download (sfs) // alt download (mediafire)

The set consists of:

apples (1,130 polys)

dining bench (432 polys)

blanket (1,203 polys)

blueberries (3,018 polys)

bread (992 polys)

utensil canisters (1,240 polys)

cutting boards (872 polys)

dining table (1,583 polys)

eggs (1,533 polys)

fried egg (1,426 polys)

pancakes (1,717 polys)

pillows (not pictured, 1,497 polys)

plant (876 polys)

hanging shelf (not pictured, one slot, 1,276 polys)

teapot (1,462 polys)

Unedited preview:

#s2 #s2cc #ts2 #ts2cc #4t2 #4t2cc #4t2 conversion #4t2kestrelobjects #sims 2 #sims 2 cc

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krenenbaker · 11 months

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Trick or Treat~!

Pairing: Che'nya x Floyd (could be read platonically or romantically)

Summary: It's finally Halloween night, but Floyd is in a bit of a slump. However, the arrival of a curious companion may just make the Halloween party a bit more interesting for him.

Notes: This is my first attempt at something following a prompt - specifically, "Trick or Treat" for the 2023 TWST Rarepair Halloween event. I'm trying to get more comfortable/practiced with writing prose (which is why this wasn't posted on the 30th... oops), and only vaguely ended up following the prompt. I'm fairly happy with how this little piece turned out, though!

Tags: @dove-da-birb, @azulashengrottospiano, @inkybloom-luv, @eynnwwyjth, @officialdaydreamer00 (please let me know if you'd like to be included or excluded from future writing of mine, or only want to be included in specific types of creations)

Floyd wanted to take a break.

It was Halloween, and all he had done the entire week was work, work, work. Getting costumes ready, decorating, helping with their dorm's presentation, plus cooking and serving at the Lounge, all on top of normal classes?

Sure, it was fun, especially getting to show off Octavinelle's cool setup, and 'taking care of' those misbehaving visitors. But now? Everything felt draining and boring, and Floyd simply wanted to leave, which sucked because the actual Halloween party had just started!

Maybe he should just ditch and go back to his dorm; being in a funk when everyone else is having fun around you is not enjoyable. He slumped down on a bench and unwrapped a sweet he had picked up earlier, before wrapping it up again. Ugh, not even in the mood for that candy he wanted only a few minutes ago.

As he shoved the sweet back into his pocket and was about to get up from the bench to leave, Floyd heard a rustle behind him. Someone was quietly humming, and… laughing? The sound gradually moved to his side, towards the empty side of the bench.

“Trick or treat~”

Floyd turned to face the voice. "Listen, man, I'm not in the mood to—” he froze, staring at the figure beside him. “Hang on a second, where's your body!?"

A toothy smile came to the face of the head that currently floated beside Floyd. "Oh, it's here.... or maybe it's there." A pair of hands materialized on either side of this boy's head, followed by the rest of his body.

“I'm just kidding. Mind if I take a seat? I’d like to rest up before I keep purrowling around and startling people.”

Floyd blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Uh, go for it.”

This guy was... weird, and it was hard to tell if he'd be annoying, or interesting. "You don't go here, do ya? At least, I’ve never seen you before. And you’re no ghost, either.”

The cat-like boy shook his head, his jewellery jingling softly. "I'm just passing through for the festivities and collecting treats. Scaring some people, too. That’s loads of fun. And it's always nice to see my friends let loose."

Floyd had a vague memory surface. "Ohh... you must be that RSA boy who's friends with Sea Turtle and Goldfishie."

"'Sea Turtle' and 'Goldfishie', hey? Those are good names for my green and red friends. Cats are known for liking fish." He leaned forward, his grin growing. “Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Floyd nodded, “Floyd Leech. It's nice to meet you, too.” He looked curiously at the boy beside him, taking in his shaggy hair, piercings, and impish smile.

"You're not what I expected.” Floyd smiled, "But you seem fun, Catfish. I didn't think Goldfishie would get along with someone so... interesting."

Che'nya's eyes lit up slightly. "Catfish? Heh heh heh, most people call me Che'nya, but I guess that works. And I’ve heard some… interesting stories about you, too."

He stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back with his arms behind his head as he sighed. "But yeah, I don't think Riddle could shake me if he tried."

"I'm almost jealous." Floyd tipped his head slightly. "Most of the time, Goldfishie likes to swim away before I can play with him."

Che'nya laughed, "Well, if you're wondering, he 'swam off' that way." He pointed off to the side. “Just don’t be rough with him. I don’t like people mistreating my friends.”

Floyd looked off into the crowd where he had pointed, and let out a small laugh. “Alright, good to know. Maybe I’ll find him later, if I feel like it”, he smiled and sat back. “And Goldfishie’s stronger than he looks, but I guess you’d know that.”

Che’nya nodded, then leaned closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I bet we could do something that would really surprise him.”

Floyd turned slightly towards Che’nya, and flashed a smile. “Yeah, we probably could. I think we should talk more in the future, Catfish. You seem pretty fun.”

Che’nya grinned, “You seem pretty fun, too.”

"Well,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I think I’m going to go and find some more treats… and play some more tricks tonight. I'll catch you around, Floyd."

With a haunting giggle echoing in his ears, Floyd watched as the boy beside him faded into nothingness, just the same way he had arrived.

What a weird guy.

Floyd unwrapped the candy he had pocketed earlier, then popped it into his mouth. Maybe this party was worth staying at after all.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst rarepair halloween #rarepair halloween #floyd leech #che'nya #artemiy artemiyevich pinker #che'nya x floyd #krenenbaker's :)#krenenbaker's creations #and now... for the ramble-y tags #first: I desperately need more people to write Che'nya and Floyd interacting. their dynamic would be so damn silly!!#second: I had SUCH a hard time figuring out Che'nya's speech patterns - he really doesn't have many lines in canon!#I based some of his lines on the Cheshire Cat's lines in the 1951 film. I think they fit?#and I have no idea is this feels at all natural or in character for either Che'nya or Floyd... but there was an attempt :)#I need to practice writing more stuff like this #I also went through about 4 different possible ways their conversation could have gone before getting this down #here... it's almost like Che'nya's taking a break from tricking AND treating at the NRC Halloween party #that's how I'm saying the prompt applies at least #anywho... I GOT IT FINISHED! I WROTE A THING!!#and I'm going to write more. that IS a threat ^v^

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years

Text

Absolutely Dripping [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A very wet towel-clad god interrupts your prank. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Extreme Loki Thirst. Language. Based on my Hot Gif Drabble: The Towel (w/c 2.9k)

You bit your lip, nerves of excitement flushing through your blood as you rounded the corner toward the men’s locker room. Revenge sat snug in the pocket of your jeans; the small bag of powder nestled against your hip. The plan was perfect. That smug bastard wasn’t going to know what hit him. You’d been planning this all week, waiting until he predictably spent Saturday morning in the Tower gym with Wilson. This’ll teach him to mess with me, you thought; grimacing at the memory of your most unflattering underwear decorating the Avengers common room like goddam bunting.

You looked around, registering the patter of a shower in use down the hall. I’ll be in and out, you thought; frantically scanning the benches. A few kit bags lay dotted around. You squinted, reading the names embroidered into their fabric; Wilson, Barton...Barnes. You smirked, tiptoeing like a cartoonish villain across the tiles, incandescent with silent glee. You unzipped Bucky’s kit bag, rummaging for the prize you sought. Why does he need so much shit for the gym, he lives upstairs; you thought, while one hand fumbled inside the pocket at your hip. Your eyes widened with excitement as they fell on the item in question. His trousers. “Reduced to indulging yourself with the stolen scent of Barnes’ raggedy sweatpants, Agent?” You froze, eyes flickering back and forth against the lockers as you stood hunched with the offending article in your hands. “You really must work on your clandestine techniques, darling. I could hear your elephantine footsteps from the shower-room.”

You spun around, clutching the black sweatpants to your chest. “Loki. Hi.”

Laufeyson leant against the open doorway, a fist holding a towel loosely wrapped around his hips. Clearly, he had been in a hurry. A dark trail of fine hair bordered the towel's edge over his Adonis belt, skin still glistening with fresh droplets of water. You swallowed.

He was soaking. Absolutely dripping, in fact. The dents in his chiselled torso glimmered with a mirrored sheen, flicking his sodden hair back from his face. Water ran down his biceps, catching in the crook of his elbow before pattering to the floor. He crossed his ankles, the jaunty confidence of his stance making it difficult to retain even a nugget of dignity. You felt your cheeks begin to burn under his amused stare.

“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.” you chuckled awkwardly. Loki shrugged, inspecting his fingernails. “Not really. There is a degree of inevitability within this scenario that cannot be denied.” You frowned, glancing back at the benches. “Do you...do you need your kit bag? Sorry, I’ll get out the way-”

“I do not require a kit bag.” he snapped haughtily, pacing forward across the tiles. He ran his hands through his sodden black hair, dripping tendrils pasted against his long neck. Fuck, he looked good naked. Well, almost naked. Fuck me, you thought; feeling heat rising in your cheeks. He's even hotter without the leather. He's fucking hotter. If you’d known there was even the possibility he’d be here to catch you, you’d have worn something a bit less...tragic. “You also ‘do not require’ a towel.” you sniffed, trying to sound clever and immediately regretting it. An amused smirk flickered at the god’s lips, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. “Is that so, Agent? Perhaps I should divest myself of it, then.” he purred, careful footsteps edging closer as you shuffled, knees hitting the back of the bench. “I mean, I meant- I didn’t mean now, I meant... because you can dry yourself...you’re always saying you can just dry yourself...oh-never mind.” you spluttered, throwing the sweatpants back on top of Bucky’s bag.

The small plastic square filled with powder fell to the tiles, landing perfectly beside Loki’s left foot. The two of you stared at it, eyes rising in tandem. Loki was brimming with mischief, his wide pupils glimmering with interest in the unexpected drama in which he had become immersed.

“And what, pray tell, is that?” he said, tilting his head as you wished the ground would swallow you whole. “It’s uh...itching powder.” you muttered, pulling at the sleeve of your baggy sweatshirt. Loki couldn’t be standing more than a foot away. You could feel the heat from his shower-fresh skin wafting across the space between you. Clean, fresh musk hung in the air; like warm pine and wet leaves and sandalwood and bergamot. The scent of him. You'd always assumed it was cologne. Christ, you thought; feeling your chest tighten under a roll of feral desire. Keep it together. Trickles ran from his hair to his glistening collarbone, gathering in the hollow. Some made paths over waves of abdominal muscle, soaking into the rich cotton hanging dangerously on his hips. You swallowed, unable to draw your eyes away. "I was under the impression that on Midgard it is considered rude to stare." Loki hummed, rolling his shoulders back and readjusting the fingers toying with the tuck of the towel. "Is that not so?" Your eyes snapped upward, lips opening and closing as you searched your empty brain for a sentence that wouldn’t make you sound like a pervert.

"Mmmm..." he murmured thoughtfully, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he marinated in the awkward silence. "So, are you going to get that?" The side of his foot nudged at the baggie lying abandoned on the tiles below. Even his toes are sexy, you thought with an internal whine; noticing your breaths quickening as you lowered on your haunches reaching for the bag. You wobbled, hands flying to the nearest surface to steady yourself. His thighs. Oh god, no. You grimaced, feeling Loki rock into your pathetic grip above his knees. “Sorry.” you mumbled, looking up. His pointed chin was cast down to his chest, the symmetry of his face heartbreakingly perfect. You let out a light whimper.

How many times you’d fantasised about kneeling in front of him just like this, worshipping him with aching slowness. You would trap every growl of pleasure from his throat in your memory as you sucked him dry. Relishing every desperate rut of his hips further into your mouth, fingertips sinking into his bare, godly ass. You could feel wetness sliding in your panties as you bounced weakly on your calves, trying to gain purchase to come back up. They were jelly. His long thighs bulged against your hands through the towel. Imagine how he can fuck with legs like these, you thought; feeling another tide of arousal seep from your pussy. The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched, making his cheekbones sharpen in the bright overhead lights as he observed you through half-lidded eyes. The angle of his jaw highlighted his flawless bone structure as he leant forward, the sharp edges making you dizzy. His patient stare filled your head with absolute filth as you hovered with your mouth level to his crotch, rendered mute. Drops of water from his dripping locks spattered your upturned face. A solitary drip rolled down the side of your nose, catching on the edge of your upper lip. Without thinking, your tongue flicked out, drawing it in. “Are you alright, Agent?” Loki murmured with faux concern, enunciating every word as his keen eyes searched your face. Your thighs began to quiver as you balanced weakly on the balls of your feet. Loki pursed his lips, his voice as richly seductive as it was in the darkness when your fingers crept between your spread legs, alone in your bed. “Do you require some...assistance?” he purred knowingly, the slant of his eyebrows making you feel faint.

“Yes.” you said quickly, the solitary word catching in your throat. Loki smirked, his open palm appearing by your shoulder. “All you had to do was ask, darling.” He raised you slowly as pangs of discomfort shot up your legs. How long had you been down there? It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds, surely, you thought; as his warm breath skated over your lips. You realised you didn’t want to know.

“Since you are so brazenly flirting with failure in this prank of yours, perhaps it’s time to enlist the professional?” he hummed, his thumb wiping trails of moisture from your temple before resting on your cheekbone. Loki’s gaze hovered on your lips, his wide fingertip rubbing the angle of your jaw twice, before releasing you. You nodded, dazed. What the hell is wrong with me, you thought, holding up the baggie of itching powder beneath his sceptical gaze. He pinched it from your grasp, observing it with mild interest. “Well for one thing, Agent...it’s white. Even a simpleton like Barnes will notice a dusting of suspicious powder adorning his black sweatpants, wouldn’t you agree?” Your face fell, realising he was right. “But never fear, darling. Your saviour is here.” Loki winked, shaking the bag as you watched the white powder turn dark. A sly smile spread across your face, mirroring the devilish glint in Loki’s eye. He nodded, an unspoken understanding as you took the bag and opened it carefully. You spread the waist of Bucky’s sweatpants holding the legs in a tight fist and sprinkling the powder liberally in the crotch. “Give them a shake.” Loki whispered gleefully, lips stretching in a broad smile as he relished the mischief afoot. You shook the trousers, scraping the sides together to mesh the powder deeper into the thick fabric. “Good girl.” Loki murmured, folding his arms approvingly. The sound of raised voices echoed in the corridor. “Shit” you gasped, dropping the sweatpants on the floor. Loki’s hands clasped your shoulders, his broad chest inches from your face as you stared up at him, wide-eyed. His features were set in determination, fair skin and emerald eyes accentuated by wet, slicked back hair. God, he was so fucking hot. “If you are to evade discovery, drastic action is required.” he grumbled, ushering you to the side as he snapped his fingers. The sweatpants flew neatly folded into the kit bag, contents re-arranging of their own accord.

“Drastic ac-action?” you stammered, wondering what the hell was happening as your shoulders bumped against the tiled wall in the corner of the room.

Loki had manoeuvred you to a tight L shape space, a row of lockers to the side blocking your view of the door. Panic rose in your stomach, “They’ll see me, Loki, when they come across for the bags...” you hissed, craning around the corner before he pushed you back against the wall. “I think you’ve had enough opportunity to prove your skills in the art of mischief, pet.” he whispered, his forearm pressed against the wall above you, “And sadly lacking, I’m afraid.” The mockery was palpable. You grimaced, making Loki chuckle. Fat strands of sodden hair brushed your cheeks as he towered over you, encased by his semi-naked form against the cold wall. You felt yourself clench, the mess in your panties becoming untenable as he lowered covertly to your ear, lips grazing the skin. You let out a light gasp, a shudder making your knees buckle. “Just stay quiet.” he murmured, as the voices drew closer. “I have a plan.” Your eyes hovered on his twitching pectorals, an impossibly firm bicep flexing as he fiddled with the side of the towel. Moisture glistened against the veins protruding against tight skin, endless drips still caressing down the side of his stomach through deep grooves of muscle. Loki turned, the expanse of his triangular back close enough to bite. Fuck, you thought; as he raised one arm to rest on the side of the lockers, his thick trunk concealing you. You devoured the sight of his shoulder-blades adjusting, the rear of his arms even more toned than the front. Not a fingernail scratch in sight, you thought with interest, before your eyes flew wide; lips pressed tight to conceal a gasp.

He had dropped the towel. You stifled a whimper, unbidden delirious laughter building in your belly as you heard the owners of the voices fumble with the door. “Jesus Christ, Laufeyson...what the hell, man?” Wilson yelled, coupled with a low yowl of surprise from Bucky beside him. "Is it not enough you’re swingin’ that thing around in those tight leather pants 24/7? Fuck, man...puh-lease.” You bit your lip hard, the sharp pain settling rising giggles as you flattened against the tiles. Loki turned to the side, extending his arm to its full length against the wall of lockers. Wilson’s shoes were all you could see of him, the toes shuffling back and forth as he clearly tried to avert his eyes. “Apologies, gentleman. I wasn’t expecting company.” Loki purred, his ass clenching. You sucked your lips between your teeth, a silent girlish scream ringing in your brain as blood thundered in your ears. His rear was an absolute monument to marbled masculinity; it was all you could do not to sink to your knees. Imagine what he looks like from the front, you thought; cupping your mouth with your hands. A silent scream puffing out your cheeks. “Expecting?! Can you believe this guy? Dude, havin’ your dick out is cool, fine...but don’t stand there like one of your brother’s fangirls in the lobby with their ya-ya’s out, c’mon man; this is a public locker room not an Amsterdam shop-window.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about Wilson. This is perfectly normal on Asgard. A little post-workout self-care, if you know what I mean." he said knowingly, a sly twinge in his voice. "Which you just interrupted, actually.”

This was met by a humph of disapproval from the men, low tsks peppering the air as Loki re-adjusted his stance, spreading his legs wider. Wilson’s hand appeared beyond the lockers, a finger waggling toward the belligerent god. “Laufeyson. Do not stand there with your schlong in my face and tell me you were about to masturbate in the same room as my stuff. Please. Tell me that is not what I’m hearing right now.”

Loki chuckled, running a hand through his hair as you slid further down the wall; squeezed as far into the corner as you could get. From this angle, you could see the profile of his cock bobbing adjacent to one muscular thigh, semi-hard. A violent shiver rolled down your spine, brow furrowing with utter, disgraceful need. Bucky piped up. “Go wack it in the showers like a normal dude. Haven’t you just been in there?” From the direction of his voice, you guessed he was facing the door. “Whatever gave you the impression I was one of these...‘normal dudes’ of which you speak, Barnes?” the god hummed, leaning seductively against the lockers. The shoulder closest to your face tightened, his hand shifting across his hips, brushing his growing manhood. “You got that right.” Wilson spat, the squeak of trainers on the tile signalling the stand-off was over. “You got five minutes. And don’t go near my bag. I’ll know, ass-hole.” The door slammed shut, raised voices sounding from the hallway growing fainter as silence reigned in the locker room once more. Loki’s back rose and fell, the scent of his skin hanging in your nostrils like incense. How easy it would be, you thought, just to lean forward and bite him. Right there between his shoulder-blades. Loki cleared his throat. “I’m going to bend down now, Agent” he murmured, casting a cautious glance over his shoulder at your contorted body pressed feverishly against the wall. You nodded; eyes glazed. This is a dream, you thought; watching Loki’s long, lean body squat and gracefully scoop his discarded towel from the floor. This isn’t happening. Not really.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, darling. I’m sure you’d agree.” he purred, rising and spinning on his heels, the loose towel clutched to his groin. You traced the twin valleys of definition with wandering eyes, on the thin wires of pubic hair creeping beyond the cotton’s reach. The long drape of towel swayed gently between his spread legs; the fist he was using to hold it aloft probably unnecessary.

You took a sharp breath, words forming on your tongue that choked behind your teeth. Loki stepped forward; the fine trail of darkness ghosting his lower stomach becoming a shadow.

The scent of his clean musk was overwhelming, the soaking mess in your underwear sliding against your clit as you squirmed. His bare chest pressed lightly against your sweatshirt, trapping you in the corner under his smouldering stare. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, eyes wide in faux-innocence. “You were desperate... weren’t you, Agent?” “Yes. Thank you, Loki…” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. He hummed approvingly, stepping back to let you pass. “Forget you saw anything with the powder” you said hastily, “and I’ll um, do the same. I never saw...anything.” You waved your hands in front of your eyes for effect, casting them downward as you made your way quickly to the door. Loki’s velvet chuckle sent shivers down your spine as your fingers gripped the doorknob, his palm sliding around your waist from behind; the other flat against the door; holding it shut. He wasn’t holding the towel. Loki pulled you back against his chest, a wall of stomach muscle straightening your spine. You could feel his cock hardening furiously against your ass, rubbing upward as he thrust gently against the soft flesh. His wetted lips grazed the edge of your jaw, making your head tilt to the side. You exposed your neck with a soft moan as more droplets from his hair rolled against your skin. “Don’t you dare forget, Agent.” he purred darkly, messy kisses melting into your heated skin. “We both know that I was not the only one absolutely dripping in this locker room today.”

Tags

@lokischambermaid @lady-rose-moon @gigglingtigger @holymultiplefandomsbatman @muddyorbs @xorpsbane @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @123forgottherest @holdmytesseract @joyful-enchantress @sititran @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @mrsbarnes32557038 @michelleleewise @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @lokiprompts @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @ladylovesloki @marygoddessofmischief @ravenwings73 @xorpsbane @filthyhiddles @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @ladyofthestayingpower @mistress-ofmagic @trojanaurora @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lokisgirll @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @peachyymallows @soldeloki @tbhiddlestan83

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki smut #lokismut #loki fanfic #loki thirst #loki fanfiction #avenger!loki #loki x you smut #loki x yn #loki x you #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki x female reader #loki x f!reader #loki x female reader smut #loki imagine

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geotjwrs · 3 months

Note

hey, um, may a request jenna x male!r base on the song "You're losing me" by Taylor Swift.

love your writings!

my heart won't stop anymore

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; angsty

Y/N sat in the dimly lit living room, the shadows from the streetlights outside casting an eerie glow on the walls. The room, once filled with warmth and love, now felt cold and distant. Photos of happier times decorated the shelves – memories of vacations, holidays, and spontaneous adventures. He stared at a particular picture, one where Jenna was laughing, her eyes sparkling with joy as Y/N held her close.

The door clicked open, and Jenna walked in, her heels echoing in the silence. She barely glanced at Y/N, her attention immediately focused on her phone. She tossed her bag onto the chair and headed straight for the kitchen.

"Jenna, we need to talk," Y/N said, his voice heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions.

Jenna sighed, her eyes never leaving her phone. "Can it wait? I'm exhausted and I have an early call time tomorrow."

Y/N stood up, his frustration boiling over. "No, it can't wait. We've been putting this off for too long."

She finally looked up, her expression one of annoyance rather than concern. "Fine. What is it?"

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling hands. "Do you even care about us anymore? About what we have?"

Jenna rolled her eyes, crossing her arms defensively. "Of course I do, Y/N. But I'm in the middle of a huge project. This is my career we're talking about."

"And what about our relationship? Does that mean nothing to you?" His voice cracked, betraying the depth of his pain.

She shrugged, her indifference cutting deeper than any harsh words. "I told you from the beginning that my career comes first. You knew what you were signing up for."

Y/N felt a lump form in his throat, his vision blurring with unshed tears. "I didn't sign up to be an afterthought, Jenna. I feel like I'm losing you, and you don't even care."

Jenna's eyes softened for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by her usual stoic expression. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but I can't slow down now. This is my dream, Y/N. Can't you understand that?"

He looked at her, searching for any sign of the woman he had fallen in love with. But all he saw was someone who had become a stranger, consumed by ambition. "Maybe we need to take a break," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jenna's reaction was almost mechanical. "If that's what you want, then maybe it's for the best."

The finality of her words was like a dagger to his heart. Y/N turned away, unable to bear the sight of her cold, detached demeanor. "I guess this is it then," he said, his voice breaking.

"Goodbye, Y/N," she replied, her tone flat and unfeeling.

With a heavy heart, Y/N walked out of the apartment, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the silence. He stumbled down the stairs, his vision blurred by tears. As he stepped into the cool night air, he felt a crushing weight settle over him. The woman he loved was gone, replaced by someone who barely acknowledged his existence.

Hours later, Y/N found himself wandering the empty streets, the city lights casting long shadows that mirrored the emptiness he felt inside. He tried to recall the moments that had led them here, to this breaking point. The late-night phone calls that went unanswered, the dates that were postponed or canceled, the laughter that had gradually faded into silence.

Their love had once been a burning flame, bright and all-consuming. But now, it felt like the last embers were flickering out, smothered by the relentless pursuit of ambition. Jenna had always been passionate about her career, and Y/N had admired that about her. But somewhere along the way, he had become an afterthought, a footnote in the story of her success.

He ended up at the park where they had their first date. It was a place filled with memories – the bench where they had shared their first kiss, the tree where they had carved their initials, the path they had walked hand in hand, dreaming of a future together. Y/N sat down on the bench, the cool night air doing little to numb the ache in his heart.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through old photos of them. Each picture was a reminder of what they had once had – the smiles, the adventures, the quiet moments of intimacy. But now, those memories felt like ghosts haunting him, reminding him of what he had lost.

"Hey," a familiar voice broke through his reverie.

Y/N looked up to see his best friend, Emma Myers, standing there, concern etched on her face. "I figured I'd find you here," Emma said, sitting down beside him. "What's going on, man?"

Y/N took a deep breath, struggling to find the words. "It's over, Emma. Jenna and I...we're done."

Emma nodded, her expression somber. "I'm sorry to hear that. I know how much she meant to you."

Y/N felt a tear slip down his cheek, hastily wiping it away. "I don't know what happened. One moment, we were happy, and the next...she's just gone. It's like I don't matter anymore."

Emma placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You do matter, Y/N. Sometimes, people change, and their priorities shift. It doesn't mean you did anything wrong."

Y/N shook his head, the weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I just feel so...lost. I thought we had something real, something worth fighting for. But she didn't even care."

Emma sighed, looking out at the park. "It's hard, man. Love can be beautiful, but it can also be painful. Maybe it's time to focus on yourself, figure out what makes you happy."

Y/N nodded, though the words felt hollow. "I don't even know where to start."

Emma gave him a small, encouraging smile. "One step at a time. You've got friends who care about you, who will be there for you. And who knows? Maybe one day, you'll find someone who will appreciate you for who you are."

Y/N knew Emma was right, but the thought of moving on felt impossible. The pain was too fresh, too raw. "Thanks, Emma," he said quietly. "I just need some time."

"Take all the time you need," Emma replied, standing up. "I'll be here for you, whenever you're ready."

As Emma walked away, Y/N sat there, letting the tears flow freely. The park was silent, save for the rustling of leaves in the breeze. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the joy he once felt here with Jenna. But all he could feel now was a hollow emptiness.

Days turned into weeks, and the weight of the breakup lingered over Y/N like a dark cloud. He went through the motions of daily life, but everything felt numb, colorless. Friends tried to cheer him up, but their efforts only highlighted the void left by Jenna's absence.

One evening, as he sat alone in his apartment, Y/N's phone buzzed with a message from Jenna. His heart skipped a beat, a flicker of hope igniting within him. Maybe she had realized her mistake. Maybe she wanted to make things right.

But as he opened the message, his heart sank.

"Hey Y/N, I hope you're doing well. I just wanted to let you know that I've been cast in a new film. It's a huge opportunity for me, and I'll be traveling a lot. I hope you understand. Take care."

Y/N stared at the screen, the words blurring as tears filled his eyes. There was no apology, no hint of regret. Just a cold, matter-of-fact announcement of her success. He realized then that Jenna had moved on, her dreams taking precedence over everything else, including him.

He threw his phone aside, burying his face in his hands. The pain was suffocating, a relentless ache that refused to fade. He had given his heart to Jenna, and in return, she had given him nothing but indifference.

Months passed, and slowly, Y/N began to rebuild his life. He threw himself into his work, finding solace in the routine. He reconnected with old friends, started new hobbies, anything to fill the void Jenna had left. But despite his best efforts, the memories of her lingered, haunting him in quiet moments.

One day, while walking through the park, he saw a couple sitting on the bench where he and Jenna had once shared so many moments. They were laughing, their faces lit up with love and joy. A pang of longing hit Y/N, but he forced himself to look away. He couldn't dwell on the past anymore.

As he walked further, he saw a familiar figure standing by the tree where they had carved their initials. It was Jenna. She looked up and their eyes met, a flicker of recognition and something else – regret? – crossing her face.

"Y/N," she said, her voice softer than he remembered.

"Jenna," he replied, keeping his tone neutral.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she said, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

"It's a public park," he replied, the bitterness slipping through despite his efforts to stay composed.

She nodded, looking down. "I know I hurt you, Y/N. And I'm sorry. I was so focused on my career that I forgot what was really important."

Y/N felt a mix of emotions – anger, sadness, a lingering love that refused to die. "It doesn't matter anymore, Jenna. You made your choice."

"I did," she admitted, tears welling up in her eyes. "And I regret it every day."

He wanted to believe her, wanted to hold onto the hope that they could somehow find their way back to each other. But the wounds were too deep, the pain too fresh.

"I need to move on, Jenna," he said quietly. "And so do you."

She nodded, wiping away a tear. "I understand. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I appreciate that. Take care, Jenna."

"You too, Y/N," she whispered, watching as he walked away.

As he left the park, Y/N felt a sense of closure. The pain was still there, but it was no longer an open wound. It was a scar, a reminder of a love that had once burned bright but had been extinguished by ambition and indifference.

He knew it would take time to heal completely, but for the first time in months, he felt a glimmer of hope. He would find his way, one step at a time, and one day, he would open his heart to love again.

#dailywomen #imagine #fanfic #one shot #jenna ortega #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you

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classicmemorialbenches · 2 years

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What is the tradition of memorial bench?

The tradition of memorial benches dates back many years, and is rooted in the desire to provide a lasting tribute to loved ones who have passed away. Memorial benches are often placed in outdoor settings such as parks, gardens, or other public areas, as well as in private gardens or backyards.

Today, memorial benches are often seen as a way to honor the memory of loved ones, while also providing a peaceful and reflective space for visitors to enjoy. They can be customized with engravings or plaques that commemorate the life and legacy of the person being remembered, and can be designed in a variety of styles and sizes to suit any outdoor setting.

Overall, the tradition of memorial benches is one of remembrance and reflection, and provides a way to celebrate the lives of those who have touched our hearts and made a difference in the world.

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peachesyeo · 8 months

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youth - yungi

💌 parings: idol!childhoodfriends!yungi x lawstudent!gn!reader 💌 genre: slice of life 💌 contains: mentions of alcohol consumption, mention of mingi's hiatus 💌 word count: 1k

:̗̀➛ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 + 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞? :̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)

You opened the can of beer, sitting by the bench of the Han River.

Today was shit. Rushing orders, unhappy customers, the yells of your manager as you tried to fix everything. You are beyond tired, physically and mentally. The light from your illuminated watch told you it was almost midnight as you took a mouthful of canned beer.

It sucks. You left your hometown, coming towards the big city of Seoul to study. You thought you could achieve your dreams of becoming a lawyer here, but reality smacked you out of it. You had no money, no power. You could even barely afford your monthly rent for your apartment. You had a part-time job at a chicken restaurant, frying chicken as your life depended on it.

The cold breeze along the Han River caressed your heating face gently as you took another mouthful of beer. Even down to alcohol, you have to opt for the cheapest one. Heck, after this one, you are not even sure whether you have enough money to buy food for tomorrow. You laughed at your pathetic situation, standing up. You would have to walk home now; there are barely any buses around midnight.

As you stuffed the empty can of beer into your pocket, you slowly made your way towards the direction of your rented apartment. Sometimes, just sometimes, you want to give up.

You thought of what your parents had told you. "Y/n, you're still young. You have to go out, make friends, create memories. Youth is everything, yet time is cruel." They have said, before sending you on the bus to the city. "You're still young. When you become an adult, you'll understand what we mean."

Easier said than done. Go out? You were either studying or working, trying to lessen the financial burden on your parents. Make friends? Your class has its cliques, and you just don't fit in. Create memories? That's just a waste of time.

You sighed, fishing out your phone. There are zero notifications, not even a reminder. Your phone is as good as a decoration, you thought, stuffing them back into your pocket.

"Y/n?" You paused, stopping in your tracks. Turning to the sound of the voice, you were surprised to see two familiar faces sitting by the bench. One of them had their hair dyed blond, wearing a brown hoodie. The other wore a mask on his face and a dark flannel shirt with a white tee underneath. "Yunho? Mingi?"

The blond one stood up. "It's you. I thought I was seeing things." Yunho said as you approached them. The smell of alcohol is strong, and you glance at the empty beer bottles littered around them. "Tough night?"

"You bet." Mingi's voice was gruff. He eyed you as Yunho gave you a clap on your back in greeting. "Since when did you come into the city? And not tell me or Yun."

You gave him a sad smile. "I didn't want to bother you guys. I know how hard being an idol must be." You gestured towards the bottles. Mingi laughed at your words, his eyes downcasted. Yunho shook his head, sitting back down as he spoke, his voice gentle. "You won't bother us. We're friends, remember?"

True. Yunho, Mingi and you were once close friends back in your hometown, with the three of you being neighbours at one point. However, Yunho and Mingi left to pursue their dreams of becoming an idol when they were in high school. You nodded. "I know, but…"

"Join us?" Mingi offered a still-full bottle. You took it gratefully, sitting down beside him. The three of you stayed in silence as you watched the Han River.

"By the way, I received your congratulatory gift when we debuted." Yunho broke the silence. You turned towards him, and Yunho was fiddling with the bottle. "Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't send a text or anything; I didn't have your Kakao."

"D'you want to exchange now?" Mingi put his bottle down, taking out his phone. You exchanged your Kakao IDs with them and leaned back on the bench. "It's very different here, isn't it?" You asked as Mingi hummed in approval. "Yeah…"

"I heard from Auntie that you took a law course," Yunho said. You nodded, sighing. "Yeah. I did."

"Is it tiring? Learning to be a lawyer?" Mingi asked. You shrugged, gulping a mouthful of alcohol. "Learning to be a lawyer isn't a problem, but my fucked up social circle and time management is. I have no connections, and I could barely fit into any of the cliques in my class. Every day, I study, work, eat, sleep and repeat them." You looked down at the calm waters. "Every time Eomma calls me to ask about my well-being, I don't even have the heart to tell her how tired I am."

Mingi clapped your thigh lightly. Yunho sighed loudly, leaning his head against the bench. "We're not exactly having a smooth life here, either. Performances, concerts, dance practices. So many expectations to uphold, especially from our fans…" He looked up into the dark sky. "Mingi's thinking about going on a hiatus."

You looked at Mingi. The usually happy-go-lucky male seemed miserable. "Yeah. Back injury and I couldn't get it together. Mentally."

It's your turn to encourage him. "If you're going on hiatus, d'you want to come out and drink sometime?" You suggested. "That'll be nice. You get to hang out with Y/n." Yunho sounded delighted. Mingi seemed a little unsure. "But you said that you barely have enough time t-"

"I can always make some time for you, big guy." You interrupted. "You know when the old folks say enjoy life as it is? Even if I might not have enough money to eat tomorrow, I still bought this can." You took out the empty can in your pocket and threw it towards the pile of empty beer bottles.

Mingi snorted. "I don't understand how that works. 'Play now, work later'?" He said as Yunho chuckled. You shrugged, turning towards him. "I wish we're still kids, man. Adulthood sucks."

"True. Adulthood sucks." Yunho said. The three of you looked at each other and laughed.

'While looking up at the starlights, I want to lean on you. I want you to smile my way.' ⎯⎯ youth, yunho & mingi

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xavierzito · 2 months

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– thou are not an angel, yet a divers creature.

vampire!prince!xavier x lightseeker!fem!reader

synopsis: you are invited to a ball. there, you encounter a familiar but unknown figure; or, more precisely, he encounters you. his presence is everything charming and alluring, from his posture to his delicacy to his scent. ❝"i have been waiting for you," lumiere repeated making you turn to face him with a jump. "i have waited for so long, my dear." his tone always calm and soothing. as odd and sudden as the message being conveyed by the blond was, your body reacted in a totally contrary manner, sighing into his presence, yearing to be drank by his words.❞

word count: 4.750

warnings: blood-drinking, historical au, a little bit of ooc xavier because he's a vampire so his wants and needs are more hm amplified, possessive xavier, stalkerish xavier (?), neckbiting, marking. not proofread sorry...

the heavy keys of the manor's piano would get pressed by your delicate fingers as they together performed a melody that resonated through the dim wooden halls. as a lightseeker, your responsibility was to train relentlessly, as your final goal was to protect his majesty; however, when you were not sparing and overworking your body to near death, you carefully created more calluses on your fingers by decorating the air with piano tunes. curiously, the tunes you played might begin differently but they would always end up in the same euphony, one which was so familiar but unknown simultaneously. today's event that prevented the lightseekers from exercising their obligation was your royal highness' ball, a long-speculated event after the rumours of a recovered prince who went through a harsh mysterious illness. you had never met him, as his sickness was such a secretive matter, few trusted men were allowed near the prince's wing of the manor.

together with the song you played carefully, raindrops gently hit the nearby window that enlightened the room with the sunset's faintest orange glow. the more you listened to the theme created by your fingers, the more you craved to look into your memories to try and find where it came from. your eyes eventually close, mind venturing into a void of stars scattered through your vision, more stars appear as your digits dance through the ebony and ivory keys. while the melody progressed, a constellation started to form behind your eyes, until it vanished with the sound of an interrupting voice.

"i didn't know you could play." you flutter your eyes open and meet the girl's purplish brown irises with a grin on your lips.

"neither did i. i felt like playing, so i did." tara approached your seat, straightening some folded cloth on her deep wine-coloured dress. "but every time i play, it always comes back to the same melody, even if i try to play a different one." tara giggled.

"perhaps your soulmate keeps humming that song over and over again so you keep playing it over and over again." the girl suggested with a smile and you returned with a silent chuckle, as you got up from the piano's bench and delicately dragged it to it's original place under the piano.

"can i tell him to stop? i deeply wish to play other songs." you joked as the only light sources illuminating the room were the lit-up candles of the ceiling candelabrum. the rain never ceased, having been raining since the early morning. as you finished responding to your companion, the sound of metal knocking against the main door's wood alerted both of the escort's arrival.

"ready to dance?" tara asked smiling from one ear to another, holding your hand anxiously as she led the way to the entrance, getting the two capes out of the hanger that was by the door, one matching tara's own wine dress and the other matching your white one, which was actually tara's. the creamy white cape was made with satin, and it's hem was a matching tone of fur, the same one that could be found at the hems of the dress's delicate cloth. the same satin on the dress and cape was found at the gloves being worn by your hands.

the two anxiously wore their capes and bonnets, tara already opening the door to meet a lightseeker colleague who offered two spots at his carriage on the way to your royal highness' ball. once you entered the vehicle, for a reason, you started to feel nervous, heart rate increasing as the sound of the horses' hooves synchronized with the rain pouring. it was not too long until you arrived at the ginormous palace; as the carriage entered the gates, the garden overflowed with life as a rich green decorated it. many other carriages were lined up in front of the large stairs that led inside. once the vehicle was close enough to the steps your colleagues put on their intricately ornamented masks; the male lightseeker, wore a face mask, while you and tara wore eye masks.

it was an intriguing decision to make the prince's first hosted ball a masquerade, almost as if he wanted to force the guests to figure out who the prince was. as you entered the main hall, quickly not to get soaked by the rain, you were almost baffled by the amount of people present. if it wasn't for the magnitude of the palace's ballroom many would be taking a shower under the cold rain, you included. but as many people as there were, it wasn't crowded, guests were well distributed between the centre, where many were dancing, and the corners, where many more drank and gossiped. and that is all they were: guests, completely anonymous and mysterious.

for a moment tara was speechless, staring and admiring the rich gothic walls of the well-lit palace, much like you, however, the starstruck daze was cut short by a tall man with a monochromatic black suit, shoes and mask who invited the girl in a swiftly rapid move, almost not giving her time for her to hand her cape and bonnet to you. you mouthed a "have fun!" to your much more excited friend, who responded with a "i will!".

when you were finally let alone you could not shake the feeling of scopaesthesia off. and not just any look, an active, perforating stare drank your figure that was now exposing more skin as your satin fingers slid the gentle cape off your shoulders and onto your palms, together with the other cloak. as you handed the pair to a nearby servant, a song, different from the other already being played, resonated from another room almost unnoticeably as its' sound was awfully faint. but to you, the melody was clear as day, no matter how far it could be, so you followed it. you crossed the room entirely, following the lines of colourful stained glass along the tall brick walls that led to a narrow corridor. the droplets fell over the glass as if following the same rhythm you so desperately were searching for, the confined hall almost obligating you to listen to the rain.

as you ventured deeper into the corridor, the less you could see from the past ballroom you were before, as the other end was now engulfed in darkness. the only light source in the corridor was the moonlight creeping in by the windows and occasional lighting, that would later strike furiously as you reached the middle of this never-ending aisle. as the light roared in the sky, the sound of a door closing banged behind you, making goosebumps travel from the top of your spine to the very end. "i could swear i did not see a door when i entered this passage." you thought to yourself, already picking up the pace of your walk until you finally reached the end of the corridor.

waiting for you was a spiralled staircase made out of refined stone that seemed to canalize the melody, so you followed it, feeling your head starting to spin from the constant spinning of your rapid pace on the steps, now making your vision go blurry and slowly darken. once your vision was pitch black you closed your eyes, and as soon as you opened them again, a second lightning struck, illuminating the wooden door ahead of you. you felt your chest shake as your breathing became accelerated. the eyes watching you never left, you still felt a deep stare boring into your face. your hands and knees felt weak, even though you weirdly felt as if you had not climbed the entire staircase. yet, none of these aspects were stopping you from opening the only thing separating you and the calling chime of the piano that was now banging near your eardrums.

using your right hand, the heavy door opened before you after a bit of struggle with its weight. there was the piano being played by imaginary fingers, the same way you were playing previously. your heels slowly clicked against the wooden boards as you started to approach the imposing instrument. a voice called your name, it was faint and barely noticeable. you got closer to the piano, the melody became louder and your name was called a second time. you approached the keys, and as your index finger, covered by the creamy satin glove, glided closely across them, a third lightning struck, making the room glow by a split second, revealing the pair of cool blue eyes, with a faint red sparkle, that were staring at your figure from the moment you stepped into the palace. finally, as you could have barely registered the seductive eyes calling you, the voice called you again with more intensity causing your eyes to flutter open.

"y/n! are you alright? we are here." tara exclaimed, her tone expressing excitement, but her slightly furrowed brows showed a slight concern towards your previous slumbered state. your eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light from outside of the carriage, light sources being blured by the thick layer of fog on the ground. as you looked to your left, the man that previously offered his vehicle for you and tara for a lift, was now standing under the gushing rain with an umbrella turned to the open door of the car.

"i apologize profoundly. i do not know what got to me." you reply mannerly, already taking the hand of the man and getting outside as to not delay their arrival more than you already did. you extended your hand to your friend as well, opening your mouth to explain the strangest of dreams you just had, moreover not being able to vocalize anything as you did not remember. tara descended from the cabin, after pointing to her own mask, signalling for you to put yours over your eyes as well, taking the same hand previously extended to you and rushing to the palace's steps, now protected by big and extended tents of an expensive fabric.

as you carefully climbed up the steps, you could not get rid of the strong sense of familiarity or even, deja vu. everything looked so familiar yet so different, as if something was out of place, but you didn't know what exactly. you reached the top and crossed the entrance gates, two different stewards carefully tended your cape and bonnet, as well as tara's.

"is everything alright?" your friend asked again in a whisper, sounding more curious than worried; you two walked side by side, approaching the ballroom that blasted dance symphonies.

"yes! absolutely, i just feel like i should have remembered something important, that i didn't." you explained in an equal whisper, realizing you sounded even more confusing as you verbalized this convoluted feeling not even yourself could decipher it completely.

"maybe you forgot your bottoms at home." her joke could have gone unnoticed to you if you hadn't made an effort to understand her, as the girl's whisper was so subtle. you giggled at her playfulness and mouth a "i wish. " back at her, as both of you smiled.

when you arrived at the party's centre, guests were naturally disposed between the dancers and the "gossipers", the firsts dominating the interior of the hall and the latter the different corners. the room was illuminated by a dozen different chandeliers and long, fanciful carved candles. you felt less anxious than you thought you would be, based on previous balls you had attended. as you observed the lively manner of the couples dancing and swinging around in each other's arms, two men, one in a navy suit and the other in a similar wine tone to tara's dress introduced themselves to you.

"good evening, ladies." the now similar half-masked man announced, as he and the other man bowed their heads in your direction. you probably realized later than tara, as her giddy giggles indicated her soon recognition, but the man who first spoke was jeremiah, a fellow lightseeker as well. however, the man next to the curly-haired boy was still unknown. "we're enchanted. would you consider granting us your first dance?"

primarily you were a bit confused as to why jeremiah's acquaintance was not even introduced, or why he did not mind even informing his name, then it clicked, part of the mystery of the masks was keeping each perspective identity concealed. seemed the friend of your friend was taking the theme very seriously, you thought.

both men extended their clothed palms towards the both of you and for a split moment you glanced at tara's enthusiastic smile for reassurance, she, obviously, took jeremiah's hand first.

"you may." the short-haired girl announced, already being pulled to the dance floor. your eyes darted back to the waiting man, almost choking back. his purplish irises, which matched his lilac locks were curiously waiting for your palm to lay on his. "m'lady?" he asked, standing tall compared to your smaller figure.

"yes," your fingers met his in a delicate touch, feeling attentive eyes now observing your every move, almost regretting your decision. "you may." as you finished your declaration, the symphony which was being played by the many musicians present came to a halt, indicating the forthcoming of the next dance. you relaxed your body, feeling your chest weight down.

the mystery acquaintance led you to the ballroom, eyes fixated on your figure. however, you could sense that his eyes were not the only ones keeping track of your every move. in fact, his began staring way after the other pair, so you looked around as you and your partner lined up in a parallel line of ladies and gentlemen. you looked to your right, scanning the many masked individuals and nothing, you did the same to your left and nothing as well, until the musicians started with a too-familiar melody, the first to play was the pianist. as your feet moved involuntarily, within the same choreography as the other ladies, your eyes darted at the piano. delicate notes echoed throughout the room, together with the sound of the rain falling against the stained glass.

you were close to the musicians sufficiently to be able to spy on the ones behind each instrument. a slender, pale man occupied the seat behind the keys, eyes slightly shut as the euphony came as second nature to the man. his suit was one which almost matched your own, a creamy, almost beige off-white that hugged his body in such exact proportions. his gloves were completely white, seeming to be made of cotton, the back of his hand holding a gentle but emasculating needlework. his hair was long and light grey, tied in a low ponytail by a lacy ribbon that matched the colour of his suit. finally, the man wore a two-toned silver mask, that covered his eyes only.

"you seem distracted." your partner commented as you joined hands and slowly spun to the theme's rhythm. your eyes came back to his, being taken out of what seemed a sort of incantation. you blinked mesmerized at the sight you had just seen, not believing you were dancing to the mystery song you had deeply programmed into your brain and fingers.

"my apologies. i think i might know this song, do you?" your heart beat accelerated, pupils starting to dilate little by little as the song progressed and the violinists got ready to join in the symphony. your eyes shifted to the piano again and the previous glowing figure was not there anymore, but someone else on his place, you could almost feel your body frown as you got closer to your partner who was ready to hold your waist and bring your torse close to his.

"i do." a different voice answered your question, sending cold shivers from the top of your spine to the bottom, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as you turned your gaze to the man you were so desperately searching for. his voice was calm and soothing, virtually like a sedative to your soul. that did not prevent your heart from beating hurriedly against your ribcage, frequency which, from the closeness of your torsos, your new partner could probably feel against his own. once you looked into his eyes, you could not prevent from drowning in his indigo ones, which had an unexpected crimson spark to them. they brought comfort and warmth, making you want to stare at them until infinity.

the both of you twisted in each other's embrace as the violins entered the melody. his touch over your waist was tender, cradling your figure with the delicacy of a feather. you unknowingly tried to mimic this softness with your touch over his right shoulder. his presence felt like home, accompanied by the song, his whole being glowed like an ethereal creature, like an angel. a moment of comfortable silence passed by until the fog of his allure wandered briefly, clearing your mind enough to introduce yourself with a shy presentation of your name.

"i know, i've been waiting for you," the man responded, adding the second observation closely to your ear in a whisper, his lips grazing softly at your earlobe, sending a second shiver across your body. "i'm lumiere."

"you play beautifully, lumiere." you complimented, feeling exponentially more attracted to the blond man as the minutes ticked. your voice matched his own, senses completely overwhelmed by the soothing scent of lavender and vanilla contrasting with the husky smell of leather and musk coming from lumiere.

"thank you, i must do justice to such a beautiful melody, don't you think?" his question sounds more rhetorical than an actual query, but you can only respond with a slow nod.

with that, as part of the assigned steps, you and lumiere part ways in opposite directions, finally stopping at a distance of 4 meters from each other, your eyes never leaving him, and his never leaving yours. you saunter to your right, his figure following you at the same pace and path until there's a halt to everyone's movement. each couple strides towards one another again, except for you and lumiere; the man continues marching at your right until he reaches the end of the ballroom. when he makes sure you are still following him, he turns his back to you, giving a rapid glance at your figure, then walking forward towards a narrow corridor, parallel to the many lined-up windows which protected all from the storm.

once you enter the hall, you yet again have a sensation of deja vu, transpiring destiny being unfolded. a lightning struck, revealing the tall figure ahead of you, still crossing the hall. instinctively you look back waiting for the door to close, however, it never happened as the corridor had no door. once you returned your gaze to your previous partner his steps had ceased until your gaze met his once more. when you began to reach the end of the passage you could barely see a meter ahead, following with nothing but instinct, in advance of seeing shimmers of light close to lumiere's silhouette. the glint was suddenly lost as the tall shadow made a sudden turn to the left.

when you arrived at the intersection, you were faced with a tower of stone steps leading to the top of a tower, yet, when you looked to your left, there was the faint light waiting for you; almost as tempted by a reality that never happened, your eyes flickered between the staircase and the man waiting for you. this time he did not wait, as the passageway was shorter and his destiny was at the very end of it. a second lighting struck, illuminating the masked individual opening the final wooden door. once you saw him completely disappear into the room you felt alone, solitary, your chest felt heavy and the flirt with the stone-made stairs was now broken with your feet swiftly leading you to the chamber.

when you entered the accommodation, the night sky's light lit up the closed instrument in the middle of it. the ivory piano, with golden stripes as details, was with its top board closed, not ready for it to be played, chords concealed within its interior. you cannot fight the whim to approach the large mechanism, so you do, and a final lightning strikes catching you off guard, making you yelp ever so slightly. your reaction causes a different one to come from right behind you, a strong chest touching your back, accompanied by a faint breath hitting the back of your head.

"i have been waiting for you," lumiere repeated making you turn to face him with a jump. "i have waited for so long, my dear." his tone always calm and soothing. as odd and sudden as the message being conveyed by the blond was, your body reacted in a totally contrary manner, sighing into his presence, yearing to be drank by his words.

"how so, lumiere?" you ask coyly, being led into the centre of the room by the forced proximity created by the towering man over you, until your back finally touched the cold material of the white instrument. while swimming in the deep blue of lumiere's eyes, you could faintly listen to the playing orchestra, almost numbing you to the sensation of his fingertips grazing against the skin of your face, delicately creating patterns until he could feel your body relax under his touch.

"you are my destiny, darling." he replied by grabbed your cheeks cautiously as if he were picking up a piece of porcelain, the tenderness of his touch almost urging you to snuggle into his palm but you resist. once you negate the impulse you can observe an instant after the slight furrowing of his brows and batting of eyelashes, almost as if his eyes were unwillingly communicating a particular message. "and i am yours, wouldn't you agree?"

"i… i am afraid i have yet to know you in order to answer that." your voice cracks and becomes timid as his hold shifts from your face slowly to your neck, your hands finding their way to the spruce surface behind you and hold it in response to lumiere's cold breath against your face making you shiver. the man giggles slightly at your rather composed response, sliding his free hand to the back of your head that held the bow which kept your mask in place. his fingers slid against the skin of your arm, to your jaw, until it reached the ribbon.

"oh, you know me. do you not recall?" he inquires against your ear, non-challant, such making your heart skip a beat, then two, and finally three. when you regain your heartbeat's stabillity, a loud thunder strikes revealing the answer to all of your previous deja-vu's, and finally, you remember who the host of this unreal ball is. you try to mutter his title, but your lips tremble and your words get lost inside your throat. "you know my name, go ahead…"

"xavier." you call his name and you can feel a weight falling from both of your bodies, together with your mask that is removed by a sly movement. his mask is next, and now you can finally inspect every inch of the blond's beauty, and while you do so your breathing picks up, chest heaving against the male's body.

"i'm glad we were able to find eachother tonight, y/n," lumiere, or now, xavier declares as his lips skim against your feverish cheeks. "you never fail to find me, and you never fail to claim me as your own when you do. you are everywhere i go, you are everywhere to me." his words when listened to sound criptic, but at your core, you understand and hold yourself not to melt into his embrace. "but i need to make you mine as well."

the prince's final sentence sounds almost melancholic, you can sense a pinch of urgency in his tone but it is buried by a heavy sense of longing and almost desperation. even if you wanted to deny his words, your body could not, your mind did not dare to opose it. thus, when xavier landed a peck to your cheek, you let go of any self-control left and let your instincts guide your actions. when his nose drew a line from your face to your jaw, you tilted your head to your left, resting against the male's right hand that was still craddling your face with upmost kindness and care.

the blond's left hand rested at your nape holding your body squished against his, making you share your raging heat with his strangely cold one. the breath and caresses against your bare skin made your hairs stand up, his mouth would later become agape and sharp teeth would tease your soft tissue, but he soon would interrupt himself with a request that would leave your rib cage rippling in anticipation.

"i need to hear you say it, dear." he whispered seductively, each word carerfuly envelopped with honey.

"please." you spilled pathetically, and by doing so, the long haired prince in an immediate response layed your figure choicellly against the piano's lid; now, you could feel every single part of his body, every fabric that covered it and every sensation he could feel. as you layed your head against the hard wooden surface, xavier's right thumb swipes against your humid lower lip, that trembled ever so slightly.

the man, satisfied with your plead, opens his mouth once again and slowly perfurates your neck with his pointed canines, that now, from the deep sting of pain from the wound, made you realize that might not be human at all. your suspicion is moreover confirmed when you feel his wet tongue glidding against your torn and bloodied collar. nevertheless, your preocupation is promptly fogged by the adrenaline rush that finally hits your system, making you squirm under his touch and body. xavier's lips dance around the wound holes made on your skin, not needing to make any sort of effort to capture the blood from your veins as it was already leaking out of your system. xavier marginally separates from you, making space for him to stare at his work, smirking at the blood drop flowing down your neck, followed by a stare deep into your blown-wide pupils. your body shook in response to his look, and once his azure eyes gleamed crimson, he licked the fluid that was close to staining your white dress, never breaking eye contact. both simultaneously squirm against each other, trembling together, your voice echoing in the room as you chanted the prince's name.

"i'm sorry, i'm not sure if i will be able to hold back." the starved man sounded completely delighted and appalled by his feast; but his apology was barely pointless as it was shortly followed by his teeth marking another bruise, but right above your right collarbone.

"xavier!" you yelp, rolling your eyes up, fluttering them shut, bringing your right hand to his waist and the opposite to his long locks, pulling them lightly as the blood-sucking royal extracted enough volume from your body to make you light-headed, airy huffs and high-pitched groans escaped from your vocal-chords.

from the light-headedness to the hormonal chaos within your system, you felt like going mad, but the more xavier drank from you, the more you seemed to enjoy the pain from it. the sting never went away, and the sensation of your ripped-open skin persisted, yet, you relished in it, you found pleasure, that could only be explained now on a chemical scale, in the pain created by such mutual devotion to each other. the song outside the room still played, and the man's movements seemed to naturally follow its rhythm. he held you close, the hand that rested until recent moments on your face, now against your waist.

as you were ready to drift off, xavier pulls himself off your skin with a groan and approaches your now-pale complexion, giving the corner of your lips a kiss that leaves a trail of your own blood on your cheek. the metallic smell permeates through the air, together with his intoxicatingly unique perfume. before you finally close your eyes, xavier hold your head with his left palm and whispers to you:

"no matter how many times it takes, no matter where you are… i will find you."

aaand SCENE! i hope this is not disappointing hah, i know i procrastinated this like a lot and it's not even funny but here it is! finally! i am definitely going to write a part 2 eventually because i just love to indulge into this vampy xavier,,, thing i have, but please! let me know if you enjoyed it and if you'd like a part 2 and/or a eventual vamp!xav smut ( ՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞ ) my requests are open and you're free to send anything you'd like! thank you for reading!

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spinningwebsandtales · 9 months

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Mistletoe Headcanons With The DMC Guys

Merry Christmas! I don't have much time for writing during this season but I wanted to get something wrote for my fellow DMC fangirls! I hope to get back into the swing of things when my life slows back down just a little! Until then stay safe and I hope everyone has a wonderful season! Happy reading! ~Countess

Dante X FemReader

Dante puts mistletoe everywhere in the office.

Every. Where.

There's mistletoe on all the door frames and some even sport several sprigs.

Above the bed...mistletoe.

Shower head? Also mistletoe.

Literally everywhere.

When you confront him about it, he acts all innocent.

But you can't complain about all the sweet kisses you're getting.

Cause you're getting a lot of them. Each one tender and gentle.

Except the few times he's feeling frisky.

Though nothing is getting done around the office.

You can't complain and let Dante have his fun.

Though taking them down after Christmas will be an absolute pain.

You take the opportunities to corner him at times just to level the playing field.

Though of course that doesn't bother the devil hunter as your kisses leaving him a smirking sappy mess.

Though he knows that you'll take them all down after Christmas he's going to make sure several stay up all year around.

Vergil X FemReader

Vergil always believed the mistletoe tradition was a useless one.

He never had a use for it.

Until you.

Vergil had few Christmas memories and no traditions he would enjoy around the holiday.

You made it your mission to make it special for him every year.

All the treats, lights, and of course mistletoe.

He'd kiss you every once in a while but maybe this would make him kiss you a little more often.

Plus it was a funny tradition that you would love to tease him with.

You decorated your apartment, placing more than one sprig of the fake plant in strategic places.

Just to make sure that you got the opportunity to corner him.

It didn't take long to corner him when he came over.

With a slight blush on his cheeks, you explained the meaning.

Vergil only scoffed before he turned the tables on you.

Clasping your chin he kissed you softly before plucking the fake plant from the ceiling and tucking it behind your ear.

He was thinking one Christmas tradition wasn't so dumb after all.

Nero X FemReader

Nero knows of the mistletoe tradition.

He just never participated.

Like Vergil he didn't see it as meaningful.

Until you.

Every year you and Nero would venture out into the city of Redgrave to look at the Christmas lights and explore the park.

They always decorated the park downtown so beautiful and it had become a Christmas Eve tradition for both of you.

Hand and hand you both enjoy the cold wind and the calming atmosphere of the city.

Stopping every little bit to look into shop windows, decorated to catch the eye of shoppers.

Though you both weren't planning on spending any money.

Just looking at all the decorations was exciting.

In the park Nero tucked you in a little tighter as you walked the pathway.

At the big tree Nero watched you gleefully oh and aw over the beautiful ornaments.

Though your legs were tired you didn't want to leave.

Nero lead you to a park bench close by where he helped you down gently before sitting beside you.

He wasn't paying attention until you pointed out the greenery hanging above your heads.

He blushed furiously.

But not one to back down he gave you a quick peck.

You shook your head not satisfied at all.

Pulling him down towards you.

You gave him the mistletoe kiss of a lifetime.

V X FemReader

V knows of the tradition and loves it.

Any excuse to kiss you is a good one in his book.

Though he does like to be sneaky and catch you off guard.

So when Christmas starts to come around he's planning on his time to strike and how.

It doesn't take long for him to come up with something and now all he has to do is wait for the perfect time to strike.

He keeps a fake mistletoe he bought years ago in his pocket until he knows when the time is right.

You know he will at some point but you can't help but get antsy.

It's Christmas Eve and V still hasn't made his move.

You can't help but feel disappointed that maybe he was tired of the tradition he created.

So during the DMC Christmas get together you're pouting.

V can't help but smirk to himself as he can tell that you're disappointed.

Leaving the office he knows the time is close.

Preparing he stays behind you watching you walk your shoulders slumped in defeat.

You're both getting close to home when he grabs you by the wrist and twirls you around.

The closed store's lights casting multicolor hues of color across your skin.

V produces his cane with the mistletoe taped to the handle where he lifts it over both your heads.

The kiss has you weak in the knees as relief takes over.

He kept to your tradition.

#Dante X Reader #Vergil X Reader #Nero X Reader #V X Reader #DMC #Devil May Cry #DMC Headcanons #DMC Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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fanaticsnail · 10 months

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Mistletoe - Straw-Hat Christmas Special

Masterlist link FanaticSnail here, SordidMusings here Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, and Happy Mistletoe Kisses. Song Suggestion: Snowman - Sia

Word count: 7,000+

Warnings: Fluff, Mistletoe, GenderNeutral!Reader (written by afab!collab!author), kissing, pining, unhinged photoshop.

Beta-Read and Collab with the ever gorgeous, stunning and beautiful @sordidmusings.

Clutching the small sprig of emerald leaves and small circular blossoms tightly within your left hand, you reached down to the bench where you last left your scissors to clasp them within your right fingertips. The tan-coloured twine within your mouth scratched at your tongue and lips as you held the string tightly between your teeth, brow low and focussed in your concentration.

You pressed your left hand within the air, your crouched position becoming slightly uneven and shaken as you attempted to maneuver yourself in your perch.

After seeing the bushels and sprigs of festive greenery from your homeland, you knew you wanted to introduce this part of your seasonal culture to your crew: the Straw-Hat pirates.

Mistletoe-kisses. The tradition first begun by the mother of your cultural and historical deities as she held her dying child within her arms, wistfully memorialising his memory with sweet endearing affection beneath the object that claimed his life. Poetic, dramatic, beautiful and romantic; the four combinations you so desired to introduce to your pirate companions as you started decorating the banisters and rudders. The beautiful branches were woven so intricately within the scraps of twine you managed to fasten around them.

“Woah, honey,” you heard the familiar feminine voice call from behind you as you continued to wabble on your position perched against the blue kitchen benchtop, “let me give you a hand.”

“Yesh preesh,” you managed to squeak out from your clenched jaw, welcoming Nami’s assistance with her hands steadying your hips from behind you. With the additional stability, you managed to wrap the twine from within your mouth around the sprigs, snip the cords with the scissors and successfully secure the sprigs with more ease.

Sighing with glee, you brought your hands down to rest atop your orange-haired companion; allowing her assistance to dwindle further against your hips as she aided your decline from the benchtop.

“What are you doing, anyway?” she asked as you turned to face her, remaining close in your proximity, “I’ve seen you skulking around the ship with the branches and tying them up against the-,” she halted her words as she glanced up to the ceiling, her train of thought falling silent as her smile broadened against her pale face with a glow of pink warmth falling to the apples of her cheeks.

“-Mistletoe,” she breathed out with a large sigh, the warmth rising to your own chest, cheeks and ears in bashful hesitancy. Her eyes fell from her gaze at the sprigs to search your eyes with her own. Her broadened grin and softened eyes twinkling with mischief searched yours, as your own reflected a similar playful mirror against her gaze.

“Yes it is,” you nodded your head, eyes drawing to the floor with your teeth pulling your bottom lip between them with your heart beating faster within your chest. “Are you aware of the tradition?” you asked her, trailing your eyes coyly back upwards to meet with her own.

You heard footsteps approaching the kitchen entranceway, but paid them no mind as Nami brought her hand against your cheek with her nose scrunched in a playful smile. You placed the twine and the scissors down against the blue-coloured kitchen counter while your gaze held firm against her own.

“I am fully aware,” she teased you with her tone, “and now that you’ve caught me in your little trap, I suppose you’d like a kiss?”

Your lips pulled outwards further to widen the enthusiastic grin into your cheeks, allowing her to lead you by your cheek to draw you into her embrace . Falling your hands against her hips, she drew her other hand up to cradle your neck as she drew her lips to graze against your own.

Her lips were soft and warm, the taste of tangerines and cinnamon from the tart Sanji had made for the crew’s afternoon tea lingered against her lips. The both of your eyes fluttered shut, you drawing her closer to your body by her hips and raking your hands over her lower back to cradle her against you securely. She smiled into the kiss, her head tilting as she parted her lips gently to deepen the caress of her lips against your own.

She slowly moved her hands from your face to circle behind your neck to secure the embrace further as you engaged each other beneath the mistletoe.

Footsteps halted with a large thud, followed by the vocalizations to alert you of disruptive attention to break your silent and intimate moment with the navigator.

“Oh, what the fuck-,” a gruff voice uttered lowly.

“-Merde,” a whisper followed closely behind.

Nami and you broke away your lips, still holding yourselves in the warm embrace of one another. A small warmness rose itself to the both of your cheeks, followed by a small giggle of mischievousness at your crewmen’s responses to your current state.

Being the first to pull away from you, Nami made her way over to the swordsman and the chef at the doorway; leaving you to collect the twine and scissors from their place atop the kitchen counter.

“What d-did we-,” Sanji’s voice attempted to squeak out, his vocal chords failing him in their articulation of his thoughts, “y-you, the two of you-, you-u b-both-,” he gulped back his words a small fine bead of sweat pooling from his brow as Nami approached him.

“Kissing?” Nami arched her brow up with a playful grin atop her partially swollen lips. Sanji nodded frantically with his eyes widening in surprise.

Zoro shook his head and made his way over to approach the sink behind where you were standing, his hands firmly securing a glass to fill water to the brim within. He grunted at you as you darted your tongue out to trace your lower swollen lip with a mischievous smirk again pulling at your lips.

She looked once more to seek out your gaze with her own; suggesting playfully, “feel free to educate these two on the tradition, I’m sure at least one of them has never heard of it.”

Nami giggled at Sanji’s rising blush against his cheeks and nose, shaking her head while pushing past him to maneuver her body behind his and giving him a gentle push towards you.

“Bonus points if you manage to get them both under it together,” her giggle prompted a blush to flush completely against your cheeks before loud laughter rose within your chest at her suggestion, shaking your head and bundling your crafting objects within your hands.

You opened the drawer below the kitchen counter, placing the scissors and twine within the vacant wooden box and shutting it back in a swift movement. Feeling a presence beside you, the warmth falling from his bare arm against your own, he hunched himself against the bench frame.

Sighing with a smile again falling to your face, you turned to meet with the hazelnut-coloured gaze of the green-haired swordsman.

“Zoro,” you shook your head at him and clicked your tongue, “you shouldn’t have come over here. Now you have no choice but to participate in the tradition.”

His brows furrowed into a frown at your words, questioning, “Tradition?”

You anchored your chin upwards to gesture to the sprigs of florals and leaves attached against the bannisters of the kitchen.

“There’s a few origins of this particular tradition,” you began, the swordsman’s eyes falling back to your own as more footsteps began falling within the dining room and kitchen: Usopp, Luffy and Nami returning to the kitchen with a grin attached firmly against the orange-haired navigator’s lips.

“Go on,” Zoro commanded you in his gruff voice.

“Well, the long and short of it,” you began with a shrug of your shoulders, “is if you find yourself beneath the branches of mistletoe, well,” your index finger traced along the wooden countertop to ghost themselves against the tips of Zoro’s fingers, “you kiss.”

Your eyes searched his own, his left brow arching up as he questioned you, “Why, though?”

“There’s a few origins around the east blue,” you began, “one was introduced as a custom at weddings, mainly because they drew comparisons with the white flowers to-, uh-, male fertility if you follow my intention.”

A blush almost graced the face of the swordsman at the reference he followed with your words, a slow blink ridding the hue from his face.

“Another was to offer a ceasefire in war,” you continued, your fingers now brushing the outer forearm and traveling upwards to rise to his shoulder, “reconciliation and peace between enemies at the receiving end of a branch, lips meeting in surrender.”

He hummed in response, his eyes briefly gracing your trailing fingertips before falling back to your own.

“And why do you, personally, choose to follow the tradition?” he asked you, brows furrowing before a small grin rose to his lips, “peace, reconciliation, or fertility?”

Your voice caught within your throat, his words halting your movements as your eyes widened at his suggestion.

“None, in truth,” you whispered, your eyes searching his again by darting your gaze between his woody-hues, “to me and those like me; the tale follows the goddess of old. She introduced the kiss as a memorial to her fallen and beloved son; who perished under an arrow crafted from the sprigs of the branches and white flowers.”

“I carry this tradition as a reminder that we are all mortal and may perish at any time,” your hand drew itself against the swordsman’s shoulder, his chin tilting down to glance at your hand once more. He turned to face his broad chest towards you, his hand tracing the back of your own in a small, dancing and timid caress.

“That,” you smiled with a slight glint of mischief falling to your eyes, “and ensnaring the lot of you throughout the ship seemed like a fun idea at the time.”

“Well,” Zoro shrugged with a small shy smile drawing itself to his lips, glancing once again upwards at the mistletoe above the two of you, “what kind of swordsman would I be if I was to shy away from a reminder of my mortality?” his gaze fell low to your eyes once more, a broader smile falling now to his face, uttering a simple: “Come here.”

A squeak fled from your mouth as Zoro circled his arm around your neck and drew you against his broad chest, lips colliding in a dance of dominance with the green-haired swordsman. Your eyes remained wide as you witnessed him furrow his brows with a sharp inhale through his nose, feeling the warmth and passion falling from his chapped and coarse lips. You placed your hands gently against the exposed chest of the swordsman beneath his opened collar, still falling in momentary surprise at the unwithheld expression in front of the crew.

Your fingertips trailed absent-mindedly along the silver-tipped healed scar embellishing his broad chest, your eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his chin upwards and raised his right hand to cradle your cheek. His broad and widened fingertips wove themselves within your hair behind your head. A small hum fell from the lips of the swordsman as he was the first to pull himself away from your lips, resting his forehead against your own.

“Thank you for the reminder,” he whispered against your face, a small blush flushing his cheeks before he pulled away from your embrace and reclaimed his waterglass in his hands once again.

You giggled, giving Zoro a gentle tap on his shoulder before turning around to draw yourself your own water-glass and taking a small shaken sip as you processed the haste of collecting kisses from two of your crewmen with ease. Nami and Zoro, the two of the Straw-Hat pirates you would assume would be the most difficult to ensnare, were the first recipients of your cultural tradition.

You spun on your heel to see the three remaining members of your crew; Luffy holding a broad smile against his cheeks with his eyes upturned with a mischievous glimmer.

“What a nice tradition,” he exclaimed with a light huff of his chest, his hands falling to his hips before looking at Sanji, “Now, can we eat?”

“Aye, Captain,” Sanji’s voice chimed in, his eyes wide as he gawked at your place next to the swordsman beside you, “any requests?”

“Meat,” Luffy smiled broadly, “and lots of it.”

“Why am I not surprised?” he chuckled, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbow as he marched over towards the sink.

You ducked your body away from beneath the mistletoe’s snare, prompting Sanji to shoot you a small wink as he brushed his way past you. You noticed he seemed to be lingering beneath the small bushel as he began commencing preparations to adhere to his Captain’s request. You giggled a little, shaking your head at the chef’s wordless flirtation before turning to see Usopp with his eyes wide, staring at you as he stumbled backwards.

“H-hey there,” he started, his voice stuttering as his attention continued to be drawn on you, “uh, how many of those things did you say you hid around here again?”

You giggled with a small arch of your left brow.

“Oh, great Captain Usopp,” you began to prowl as a hunter against their prey, a broad smile rising to your lips, “the ship is simply riddled with mistletoe.”

He chuckled nervously as he continued backing away from your descent towards him.

“A-and what happens if you don’t kiss beneath it, again?” his heart began to hammer within his chest with a drum-like rapidity, to which he was certain everyone could hear its intense beat.

“Oh, Usopp,” you sighed at him, cocking your head to the side with your hands laced behind your back, “I’m afraid bad luck and unspeakable horrors will haunt you to the very ends of your days.”

Usopp’s throat became overwhelmed by the sense of peril, his breath hitching within his mouth as his eyes widened further.

“That,” you continued with a small nod of your head, “and I would be incredibly offended.”

He shrugged off his shoulders with a small rotation and a huff of his breath, nodding at you as he processed your words.

“Okay then,” he nodded with a small, down-turned smile, “let’s do it.”

Your eyes widened as he began his descent towards you in a deep stoop; yourself leaning backwards in response to his tumble towards your lips.

“Usopp, stop,” you ordered him, him halting immediately in his actions as his brows twitched into a small frown. You huffed a small laugh and gestured above your head, indicating for him to look above his head.

“There’s nothing there, sharp-shooter,” you giggled, “there’s no need for a kiss, at least at this stage.”

He relinquished a small laugh from within his throat as a blush rose itself to his cheeks in embarrassment.

“Oh, I see,” he commented with a swaying nod, “so it’s only when you’re directly beneath the branch that you kiss. I got it.”

You clapped a hand atop his shoulder in support, your thumb caressing small circles in reassurance to smooth over his minor embarrassment. He raised his own hand up to squeeze his fingertips against your outer wrist, acknowledging and appreciating your gesture with a small, crooked grin.

“I mean,” you shrugged, withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, “you could always run away?”

“The great Captain Usopp running away from a fight?” he snickered, “oh, I would never.”

You both laughed whole-heartedly at the comment, you pulling Usopp into you by circling your arm over his shoulders and leading him back into the kitchen while Sanji continued preparing the meal.

Sanji’s gaze would continue to flutter towards you, whether intentionally or subconsciously, throughout the evening meal as the crew partook it together. His dwindling smile would rise and fall, questions unspoken remaining behind his lips to not depart from his pierced tongue.

“So once you kiss beneath it once, does that mean you’re safe in that zone from another one? Like the bad luck and horrors won’t get you if you’ve already kissed beneath it” Usopp rose his question up as he reached for a baked roll.

“Oh, Usopp,” you laughed at him, “try not to overthink it.”

You passed him the ceramic dish containing a knob of whipped butter, him nodding to you and taking it from your outstretched hands.

“It’s meant to be a bit of fun, nothing serious,” you informed him with a tone of reassurance.

You all concluded your meal engaging in questions regarding other aspects of cultural traditions: Sanji and Luffy primarily focussing on cuisine practices over holiday periods while the chef’s descriptors of the food had all of your mouths watering in anticipation and longing.

After the meal had come to an end, Sanji began expertly stacking dishes within his arms and bringing them to the sink. You smiled warmly at the blonde chef, his own warmth rising to his face as he darted his eyes between your two orbs.

“Who’s on first watch tonight?” Zoro’s voice cut through the air, your attention falling to his form at the dinner table.

“I believe it’s mine, swordsman,” you informed him with a nod, rising to your feet, “thank you for the meal, chef. It was as wonderful as always.”

“You’re most welcome, beautiful,” his nose scrunched at the bridge with a smile rising upwards to bare his pearled teeth to you.

Turning to walk on your way exiting the kitchen, you turned to land your eyes back to your crew; pausing for a moment to commit the sight to memory. The evening had a warmth from the sea air, the scents of the meals mixing beautifully with the cleaning products Sanji began to fill the sink with.

Your captain sighed in contentment, patting his stomach with praises of his own aimed at the chef. Laughter from Nami and Usopp, alongside the small smirk rising to the Zoro’s lips had you sighing in adoration. Nodding at the scene laying before you, you again turned to make your way back outward to begin your watch.

After your peaceful and lengthy watch concluded, you travelled below decks to meet with Usopp; the secondary watch for the evening to inform him of the lack of events that fell upon the night. He nodded to your words, his arms stretching upwards cracking his back in an arched shape.

“I’m sorry second watch has to be you today,” you winced out in pity, “it’s always the roughest, watching the sun rise as you only had a few hours sleep yourself is exceptionally difficult.”

“I agree,” he nodded his head with a small, tight-lipped smile, “it’s not my favourite, that’s for sure.”

You giggled, cupping his shoulder in response and giving it a small squeeze.

“Now, go get some rest,” he ordered you in a low tone, you nodding and stretching in a similar manner he did moments ago; your chin drawing upwards to the ceiling as your eyes remained closed.

Reopening your tired eyes, your sights met with the familiar small beads of the mistletoe you had forgotten you placed within the crew-quarter corridor; just as Usopp stepped outwards to draw himself into the hallway to begin his watch.

“Usopp,” you whispered, reclaiming the attention of the sharp-shooter, “look up.”

His eyes rose to the ceiling, widening as his gaze located the haunting florals amongst the emerald leaves.

“Wh-what does that-,” his words were halted as you placed a small, lazy kiss against the apple of his cheek. You hummed against his cheek briefly, your lips curling upwards into a smile before withdrawing your lips from his smooth skin.

“That should be enough to satisfy the bad luck and unspeakable horrors for now,” you smirked at him with half-lidded, glazed and tired eyes, “until the morrow, Great Captain Usopp.”

You offered him a lazy two-fingered salute before you turned away from him to begin your journey to your own crew-quarters; only for your actions to be halted by a firm grip within the crook of your elbow. Tugging lightly on your inner arm, your body rotated in a twirl once again to fall beneath the mistletoe with Usopp, his own eyes half-lidded as he drew you towards himself.

“I think a little more might be needed to halt their advance,” he grinned at you, falling his lips against your own in the dimly lit hallway.

You sighed against his warm lips, your arms raising to lazily circle behind his neck to hold his embrace firmly against your own. Your fingers brushed his hair, your fingers weaving against his scalp and lightly raking it under your tired grip. He fell his hands to your hips before dragging them against your lower back, drawing your hips inwards to hold them flush against his own.

Gasping against his lips, you again hummed in response to his open-lipped advance on you as he anchored his chin down to release your lips from his entanglement; his forehead pressing gently against your own brow.

“They’re satisfied now, I think,” Usopp commented with a small whispered sigh.

“And it’s all thanks to the Great Captain Usopp,” you whispered your praise in return, withdrawing your arms from his neck and he in turn unlacing his arms from circling your waist.

You waved him a good night as you again turned on your way towards your quarters to begin your much needed rest to prepare yourself for another day aboard the Going Merry with your crew of misfits.

Shrugging off your clothes for the evening, you placed your shoes neatly by the front door and scuttled into the warmth of your plush duvet atop your suspended bed. The chains attached to the ceiling rattled slightly as you rolled into a more comfortable position; your eyes closing as you released a small giddy giggle. You managed to capture three of your crewmen beneath the mistletoe within the first day, and you could not wait to draw in the remaining two with a friendly kiss.

Sleep welcomed you into its awaiting arms, the energy slipping from you as you fell into its embrace before welcoming the rays of the dawn through your curtained bay window. Sitting up in your bed, you allowed the sheets to fall from your torso as the duvet fell to your waist. Arms raised in an arched stretch, you thought back on the three, technically four, kisses you had shared with your crewmen the day before. Nami felt so soft against you, her femininity and playful charm held you captive as you both giggled against one another’s lips.

Zoro was rough, his lips chapped and dominant with the same amount of playful energy Nami had presented you with. Both of them held you so strongly cradled against their torsos, whereas Usopp’s embrace was slow and deliberate. The way he held you, his hands falling to your hips and lower back was foreign; you truly taking charge of that exchange.

A giggle once again fell to your lips as you threw the duvet from your lower body, stepping out to fall your bare feet to the wooden floorboards.

While adorning your sleepwear, you collected several new clothes for the day; setting to take a small dip beneath the warm rainfall of the Going Merry’s shower before commencing breakfast with the Straw-Hat crew.

You placed your slippers upon your feet, walking with a spring in your step down the hallway towards the bathroom. The sizzle of frying foods and bubbles of rapid boiling were the sounds echoing into your ears, their origins falling to the kitchen where Sanji was currently awake and preparing food for the crew.

“That poor boy never sleeps,” you whispered with a forlorn expression rising to your brows. You shook your head, your hand falling to the brass handle of the bathroom door and clicking the latch open with your thumb.

As you opened the door, your eyes immediately widened as your vision met with the dressed down version of your captain: white towel clung to his hips, his dark curls littered with glimmering droplets falling to the ends of his locks, toothbrush in hand as he vigorously scrubbed at his broad smile.

“Mfph!” he smiled with his toothbrush hanging from his lips, “guhd mmrh-nng!”

Held frozen in place, you witnessed your captain finish brushing his teeth; relinquishing the peppermint suds from his lips by rinsing his mouth with the cool water from the sink.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked you, placing his toothbrush back onto the counter beside the toothpaste, “How was your watch? I bet it was pretty boring, but thanks for doing it anyway. You know-.”

He brushed his hands over the towel clasped against his hips, you continuing to remain frozen in place as your eyes screamed at you to not look any lower than his own caramel orbs. You were not accustomed to seeing your captain in such a way. Exposure of his chest was one thing, but the way the towel hung so loosely from his hips was not something you were familiar with.

“-I really enjoy how you’re sharing your customs with the crew,” he nodded while walking over to your position at the door, “it’s nice.” You gulped in a dry mouthful of collected saliva, your wide eyes blinking with a slow joining of your lashes.

“Oh, here’s one!” he suddenly chimed in with a cheery grin, “look up,” he chuckled with a broad smile, his right hand falling beneath your chin to angle your wide eyes upwards. Innocently hanging from the doorframe of the entrance to the bathroom, the green petals taunting you amongst the white clusters of soft bulbs.

“I don’t remember putting one there,” you muttered quietly beneath your breath. Angling your chin down to meet again with the caramel eyes of your captain, his irises twinkling with a glimmer of mischief.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he murmured, his face inching all the more closely towards your own, “I may have moved some of them-,” he scrunched his nose, brushing it against your own in a small, playful caress, “-I can’t let you have all the fun.”

Holding your chin firmly, he drew you in to capture your lips with his own. He tasted of peppermint toothpaste, his lips curling into a small smile as he hummed against your lips. Your hands instinctively flew to his dark curls, lacing your fingertips against his scalp and holding him firmly against your body.

He leant forwards, dropping your chin from his grasp and opting to lace them behind your back and pull you in for a light squeeze, lifting you into the air with ease. You squeaked out a small tone of surprise at the motion, his lips giggling against yours as he spun you within the air; gasps falling from the two of you as he replanted your feet onto the ground.

He closed his lips against yours, withdrawing a little before pressing one more chaste kiss against your lips.

“Good luck finding the rest,” he whispered, his eyes half-lidded with a small chuckle falling from his lips as he unwove himself from around you, “I’m gonna keep them up, I think. It’s a healthy team-building exercise.”

He scrunched his nose one last time, exiting the bathroom doorframe and turning one last time to look at you. His hand wove around the brass door handle, pulling it closed with a small wink falling from the eye atop his scarred cheek.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a breath you didn’t think you were holding within your chest, hand falling back to clutch the sink and bearing the brunt of your weight against the porcelain surface.

“That was,” you whispered, drawing your other hand up to rake your fingers through your hair, “a little more than I expected from him.”

You turned to look in the cloudy mirror, gazing into your own eyes with a wide grin.

“Four down, one to go,” you giggled before your laughter fell from your lips eclipsed by a perplexed frown, “and the last one was truly who I thought would be the easiest to convince to adhere to the little tradition.”

After you completed your shower, you joined the crew for breakfast; merriment and laughter falling from your lips as the crew spoke again about the traditions of their own cultures. Your eyes travelled around the rigging of the deck of the ship, noticing several sprigs of mistletoe you had tied against the bannisters had mysteriously disappeared: no doubt your captain making true on his earlier statement of moving the sprigs and twine around the ship to hold you equally as susceptible to fall beneath the trap as the rest of the crew.

Your emptied plate was collected from in front of you, the bare forearms of the blonde chef drawing down to claim the plate. His sleeves were once again rolled to the crook of his elbow, the relinquishment of his regular formality drew a warm smile to your face.

“Thank you, Sanji,” you praised him in thanks, folding your hands into your lap to make it easier for him to collect the items before you, “your skilled hands never cease to amaze me.”

A warm blush drew itself to his nose and cheeks, the blonde locks falling further to shield his eyes from you. You turned your sights to the orange-haired navigator who shot you a playful taunting expression, her eyebrow raising with her chin gesturing to the chef.

“Him next?” she wordlessly depicted her question with her lips. You nodded in response, biting your lip as you watched her search the deck with a perplexed expression.

You followed her gaze, noticing the lack of mistletoe adorning the area that you painstakingly attached to the wood the day before. You furrowed your brows, noticing a trail of sprigs falling against the top mast of the crows nest.

“Well done, Luffy,” you whispered in awe, staring at the sprigs; the chef halting his collection of food-smeared plates to follow your eyes. He chuckled once his gaze fell to the floral arrangement hanging from the flag above the crows nest.

The crew began to rise from their seated positions around the external table, all dispersing to complete their various roles around the ship: leaving Zoro behind as he reclined against one of the wooden benchtops, closing his eyes with his arms supporting his head. As you stood from the table, your eyes trailed once again to the top mast of the ship, squinting to get a better look at the arrangement with your right hand rising to your brow to shield the morning rays of the sun from your vision.

“So,” a voice murmured from behind you, prompting you to turn to welcome the chef back above deck, “is there a distance rule for the mistletoe-?” his smirk pulled at the right hand corner of his mouth, “-or would it still count if I just-?”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up into his strong arms and walking you to the tall, wooden pillar supporting the roped ladder leading upwards to the look out. A giggle rose within your chest as your back was pressed against the smooth wood, Sanji’s forehead resting in the crook of your neck. He chuckled against your shoulder before withdrawing his face from your skin and gazing into your eyes.

“I think there’s a distance rule here,” you giggled at him, gesturing with your chin up towards the roof. The view of the mistletoe was now obscured by the base of the crows nest, the wooden planks falling within view now rather than the cluster of leaves and flowers.

Sanji let out a small groan in frustration, his smirk falling from his lips as he placed your feet back onto the ground.

“And here I thought I was being clever,” he breathily laughed at himself, scrunching up his nose and relinquishing his hold on your waist, “another time, then?”

You nodded with a small blush rising to your cheeks, watching his descent back below deck as his shoulders almost seemed to slump in defeat. You furrowed your brows in a small amount of pity before walking over to sit by Zoro, pulling out your journal and beginning cataloguing and annotating a variety of drawn flora and fauna.

You felt a shift beside you, two tanned fingers tugging down the middle of your journal. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head up and having your lips immediately met by the green-haired swordsman’s. Widening your eyes and gasping in surprise, you placed the book in your lap and raised your hand upwards to cradle his cheek against your palm.

He broke his lips from your own, a smirk rising against his lips as he tilted his chin up to the ceiling, uttering a small: “Mistletoe.”

Glancing up at the ceiling, there was a bundle of mistletoe adorning the railing above your seated position beside him. A giggle rose in your chest, the swordsman choosing to lay down once more; this time his head falling to your lap and closing his eyes.

“Excuse you?” you chastised him, “When did I say it was okay to lay there?”

“You didn’t,” he grunted, a soft smile rising to his lips. “Can I just lay here a while?”

“Fine,” you sighed with a shake of your head, reclaiming the book you placed down and continuing your work within the folds of your leather-bound journal. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your thighs beneath his head as he fell into a blissful slumber under the morning sun.

This is how the following week seemed to go: all of the members of the Straw-Hat crew managed to claim kisses from your lips, cheek and forehead beneath the mistletoe; you in turn offering the same. That was all except, it should seem, the blonde-haired chef had yet to have the opportunity to claim a kiss from anyone, nor receive one in return. And your heart broke for his poor, romantic soul.

You twirled the fine sprigs of withering florals within your fingertips, interweaving the branches into one another and fastening them with a small amount of twine as necessary.

Each kiss you shared with Nami felt as soft and as playful as the first, the taste of her lips against yours feeling sweet and as warm as the sun that welcomed you into the day. Luffy’s were always incredibly mischievous, his lips often catching you off guard as you went about your duties aboard the ship. Usopp was always shy, his kisses feeling like a hidden and apprehensive confession of childhood romance with all of the giddy feelings coinciding with them. Zoro’s lips were dominant, passionate and sometimes lazy; much akin to his attitude and practices with his tri-wielding swordsmanship.

Yet, you had yet to taste the lips of the beloved chef aboard the Going Merry. He eluded you unintentionally, as he did the other members of the Straw-Hat pirates. Sanji had yet to sample the tradition you had so graciously introduced to the crew, and it was devastating for you to witness.

Interweaving the final strands of the mistletoe, you nodded your head in satisfaction with a broad smile stitched against your face. Rising to your feet, you began your descent towards the kitchen where you knew the chef would be hiding away; elbows deep within the suds infused dishwater.

And that’s where he was, hunched over and clasping one of the many mugs within his left hand and scrubbing the ceramic edge with his right. His focussed grip never let up, twirling the object around as a dance within his palm as he hummed a sweet song through his nose. The filter end of a cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he remained blissfully unaware of your approach, placing the cleaned mug within the drying rack to the side of the deep sink.

“A pretty melody, Chef,” you uttered your compliments, prompting Sanji’s shoulders to rise stiff and rigid.

“Thank you,” he squeaked out in surprise, removing the plug from the sink to relinquish the murky contents from within it. He rinsed his hands with a small stream of water falling from the tap, drying them on the hanging hand towel below the countertop.

You coyly approached the chef, the woven object clutched lovingly within your palms. You bit your bottom lip.

“I hope you don’t mind my forwardness,” you began, a blush rising to your cheeks as you thumbed the object within your hands, “but at this stage-,” your eyes glanced upwards to meet with the ever widening eyes of the tall, blonde in front of you; “-desperate times call for desperate measures, Sanji.”

His eyes travelled to the object within your hands, noticing the circle of green and white florals clutched within your grasp. Mistletoe interwoven with sprigs of pine, fine branches and twine creating a beautiful and sweet crown of florals was your circlet of adoration.

“I-Is that for you?” Sanji stuttered, a small blush rising to his cheeks, “just for me to have the honour of upholding your tradition?”

You shook your head, raising the object to hover above his head; “it’s not for me, sweetheart,” you whispered with a small flush of warmth dusting your nose and cheeks, “it’s for you.”

His breath caught within his throat, eyes widening further and brimming with a small air of bittersweet sorrow. He closed his eyes and nodded his head lower, enabling you to place the crown of flowers atop his head before you circled your arms around his neck.

Tugging down the scruff of his neck, you joined your lips against his in a slow, deliberate and passionate dance of adoration. You felt him relax into your hold, his arms falling to your hips to anchor you against himself. A sigh departed from his lips as he opened his mouth to receive more of your romantic entanglement as your tongue darted out to meet his in a gentle caress.

A small gasp of surprise fell from your lips as you felt a small metal object located beneath his tongue, attached firmly in front of his lingual frenulum. He smiled against your lips, folding his arms further around you to hold you flush against his torso; swaying you slightly as he expressed his joy of finally being included in your cultural tradition.

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips, trailing them lower to press your hands against his chest to trace the collar of his shirt down to his tie. Tilting his head and angling his chin down, he deepened the kiss further; the two of you blissfully unaware of the presence leant against the doorframe as you clutched desperately within the arms of one another.

“Please,” a sarcastic voice called from the doorway, the gruff guttural energy falling from the swordsman’s vocal registry in waves, “don’t stop on my account. If you could just move over so I can get to the fridge, I’d appreciate it.”

You both sprung from each other’s arms, a flush of embarrassment at being caught at such an intimate exchange of passion rising to your cheeks.

Zoro chuckled, winking lazily at you while brushing shoulders with the chef. Your eyes widened further as you watched Zoro fall dangerously close to Sanji, whose blonde hair was framed so beautifully by the mistletoe crown in the light of the kitchen window. Zoro opened the fridge, retrieved a brown-stained glass bottle from within and turned back around to face the two of you.

“These twist top?” Zoro questioned Sanji, who shook his head in response. Zoro grunted and approached the chef in two strong strides, uttering, “Then get out of the way of the drawer so I can get to the bottle opener.”

“Zoro,” you gasped in surprise, alerting your two crewmen to their current proximity, "Zoro, the mistletoe.”

Both Zoro and Sanji’s eyes widened at your direction, both looking to the crown atop Sanji’s head before their orbs met each other’s: rage and humiliation befalling them both as their tempers rose within their close proximity.

“Idiot chef-,” Zoro began, Sanji’s voice cutting through the air.

“-stupid moss-head,” the chef growled.

“Boys,” you addressed them both, their eyes again snapping to your own. You chuckled at them both, shaking your head with a mischievous grin rising to your swollen lips; “it was used as a ceasefire once, perhaps it can be again?”

Zoro’s lip curled upwards in a small snarl, Sanji’s brows falling into a low frown.

“Forever haunted by unspeakable horrors if you don’t go through with the tradition,” you teased them both in a melodic tone, “and I would be incredibly offended.”

A small, tense air fell between the three of you. Tensions and tempers continue to fester and boil between the two men, both weighing up the consequences in choosing to follow through with your warning.

“Fine-,” Zoro growled out, turning to face the blonde chef.

“Wait, what-,” Sanji managed to stutter out before Zoro hooked his forearm around the blonde’s shoulders and drew him into his chest; the chef’s lips meeting with the swordsman’s in a hard and dominant exchange of fierce intensity. Your eyes widened as a giggle fell from your lips; Sanji’s shocked expression against Zoro’s angered brow drawing hilarity in their comparison to the red hue rising to adorn their cheeks with a light flush. Breaking away as quickly as their exchange began, Zoro flicked the tip of the crown atop Sanji’s head; the floral arrangement falling away from the chef’s brow to litter the floor with a splay of leaves and flowers.

“Zoro, my hard work!” you cried out, the smile still atop your lips as you stepped forward to collect the leaves.

“Just making sure I don’t have to do that again,” Zoro growled, a smirk falling to his lips as he reached behind the stunned chef to gather the bottle opener from the drawer behind him.

“Like I’d ever let you, Marimo,” Sanji spat back at him, walking himself over to the sink to collect a tall glass to place beneath the tap of the sink.

You collected the leaves and reworked the crown in a huff, interlacing the twine again to collect the sprigs and flowers within the circlet. You laughed, finally satisfied with your ability to collect passionate exchanges from all of your beloved crew.

“Thank you, boys,” you sighed, rising again to your feet and glancing at the chef and the swordsman, “I appreciate you adhering to my cultural tradition.”

“Of course, love,” Sanji smiled at you, raising his glass of water to his lips.

“Thanks for sharing it,” Zoro nodded to you, swigging from the cool, amber liquid within the brown bottle.

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danikamariewrites · 10 months

Note

Heya!!! Can I please request some Cassian x reader? ❤️

Punches

Cassian x reader

Warnings: slight angst and typos

Flipping onto your side to face Cassian you reach out to hold him. Your met with cooling sheets where your mate should be. Your eyes flutter open to see Cassian’s side of the bed empty. The sheets pushed back haphazardly, his pillow scrunched and at an odd angle.

Sitting up you look toward the bathroom for him. But the door was ajar and the light off. You were starting to get worried. Cassian never left in the middle of the night without telling you. You reached out to him through the bond that connects you. Getting to his side of that sweet golden thread you hit an impenetrable wall keeping you from his emotions.

Now he was starting to scare you. Throwing yourself out of bed you put on your slippers and bathrobe to go look for Cassian. You don’t know what made you go up the training ring. Maybe it was your instincts telling you where Cassian was most likely to be. It was either up here or the kitchen at this hour.

Climbing the last few steps the sound of Cassian’s grunts and fists against the training dummy reached your ears. You sped up your steps at the anger you noted in his agitated sounds.

Usually the sight of Cassian shirtless and sweaty would turn you on but this worried you. His wings were tucked in tight to his back. He swung wildly at the dummy. Each punch looked like it would could someone. Cassian even took the time to out in his training pants and boots.

You slowly approached your mate, clearing your throat and making your footsteps loud so you wouldn’t startle him. When Cassian got like this he could be a little unpredictable. You knew he’d never hurt you but you wanted to make sure he could snap out of whatever anger was consuming him.

As you got closer Cassian sensed you. He landed one more hit on the dummy, sending it flying across the training ring. His arms went limp at his sides while his hands curled into tight fists. Like he needed to be ready to attack at any moment. His chest was heaving by the time you stood in front of him.

“Cass,” you say softly. He whips his head to look down at you. A pained expression decorated his beautiful features, making him look rougher. His face was wet from sweat and tears. His usually bright hazel eyes dull from whatever was weighing heavy on his shoulders. You slowly bring your hands up to hold his face as you wipe his tears away with your thumbs.

“Cass what’s going on?” He lets out a shuddering breath, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. A small sob escaped his lips. His arms wrapping tightly around your torso. You run your finger through his messy hair, slightly swaying him as his tears dripped on your neck. With each warm drop you felt your heart break for him. You wanted to take away Cassian’s pain like he does for you.

The two of you stay like that for a while. When Cassian pulls away from you he wipes at his eyes and clears his throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” “It’s ok.” You coo at him, rubbing his arm lightly. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He nods lightly. You lead him over to one of the benches next to the ring. Your hand never leaving his arm.

Cassian clears his throat again before starting. “I had a nightmare. And it wasn’t a normal nightmare, it felt too real. We were fighting Hybern and he took you from Velaris. It didn’t matter how I just had to get you back. But I was too late.” His voice broke at the end causing your vision to blur from unshed tears.

Cassian was crying again. Cauldron this must have messed him up. Cass rarely had nightmares and when he did have them they weren’t pleasant. This was the worst one he’d had since Hybern.

“He…he did it right in front of me too. Laughing while I held you. When I woke up I was so afraid you wouldn’t be next to me. I watched you for a while. You were so still I thought…” he let out a deep sigh, his eyes screwing shut to try and shake off the memory. “Then you moved and I was just so happy you were alive. I even put my head on your chest so I could hear your heartbeat.” You moved your hand down his arm to intertwine your fingers. You squeezed once, pulling his hand up to kiss his bloody knuckles. He didn’t bother to wrap his hands when he came up here.

“I’m here Cass. I’m not going anywhere. You wanna know something? I know you’d never be late. You have always saved me when I needed you and nothing would keep us apart.” Cassian pressed a soft kiss on the crown of your head, breathing in your scent. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and we can go back to bed.” You whisper back. “I’ll even make breakfast when we eventually get up.” Cassian lets out a breathy laugh as you both stand, heading back to your room where you’re safe and nothing can hurt you. Because you’d be in Cassian’s arms. And he’d never let anything happen to you.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #Cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader #cassian fanfic #cassian imagine #cassian #cassian angst

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tadpole-apocalypse · 2 months

Text

Fortunes

Part 1 - Death [Ao3 Link]

Summary -

Cazador is dead, and it's time to finally start living. Astarion takes Morgan to his grave and asks her for a favor only she can offer.

Pairing: Astarion x Morgan (female human tav)

Rating: Explicit Sexual Content

Tags: Astarion POV, graveyard sex, mentions of torture, elf/human relationships, blood and violence, vampire hopped up on infernal blood, that elf gets his dick sucked, wild magic sorcerer tav, wet and messy, deep throating, inappropriate use of tadpole, actually an appropriate use of tadpole , telepathy, fortune telling, vampire spawn

It's done! I can finally know peace...for a few days at least until I start working on the second part. A treato to enjoy~

Astarion stares at the elaborate looping script of Cazador Szarr’s personal journal. Page after page of the monster’s private thoughts about him; his movements through the city, the quality of the victims he procured, his punishments and tortures. Many, many pages of detailed descriptions of how his body looked in various states of mutilation that would have threatened bile, if he were capable of such a thing.

Yet he cannot tear himself away from the pages about himself and reads until the light of day fades in the small window of his room in the Elfsong Tavern, forcing him to put the book down to light a candle.

He draws a hand down his face, feeling every one of his nearly 250 years. His bones creak when he moves because he has not moved a muscle since he fished the journal from the bag Morgan slipped into his room.

The image of her slips into his mind and calms the dark vortex of his thoughts that threaten to overwhelm him.

They’d talked very little since it happened. He was grateful for the private room she’d secured; a rare luxury for him. A door to shut and lock everything and everyone out and just…think.

About what he’d lost. What he’d gained.

A future to plan for.

Morgan’s voice drifts underneath the door from the common room outside. She’s returned from some excursion in the city, no doubt, while he hid in a dark room like a specter once more. A sudden need to see her fills him with a nervous energy and he scrambles to his feet, rushing to tidy his appearance. He smooths his wrinkled clothing and runs some animal fat through his hair in a practiced motion.

By the squirming in his head, even the repulsive little parasite seems excited to see her. He tosses his head to settle his hair and sets out of his room in a quick flourish of movement.

On a bench nearby, a massive elf stirs at his sudden entrance as if woken from a nap. He ignores the Archdruid, and spies Morgan on the other side of the room dumping an armful of gilded ceremonial weapons into a pile of loot being sorted by a blank-eyed hireling. He recognizes them as the hideous wall decorations from the reading room in the east wing.

Startled by his sudden appearance, the tight control she leashes around her tadpole drops momentarily. His own, eager as always to reach out to its kin, grasps at a few stray thoughts escaping into their shared Hivemind until she asserts mental control over it once more.

Is he coming to end things? Because of what I said about the ritual?

Morgan.

He speaks her name through their mind link, suffusing the word with what he feels in that moment. Anticipation, gratitude, relief, and most strongly, his adoration. Emotions that he hopes convey his intent at approaching her.

It has the intended effect; her posture relaxes and she looks up at him with soft eyes. Before they broke into Cazador’s manor, she had offered her neck to him. The memory of his last taste of her blooms inside his chest, feeling heavy and tight.

She weakened herself ahead of a great battle, so he would be stronger. Always so reckless with her own body. She held him while he drank in the shadowed corner of his own home with trembling hands on her throat, defiant of his Master’s rules. And together, they sent that bastard’s soul back to the hells to be claimed by Mephistopheles.

What sort of monster would the ritual have twisted him into? Would she have ended up as a subject in one of his own insane, rambling journals centuries later?

No, he wasn’t upset that she challenged his ambitions to the ritual. Perhaps never seeing the sun again was simply the price of freedom.

He is close enough to pull her hand into his now, so he does so.

Aww guys, he’s holding her hand! I think they’re gonna be okay!

They both turn to stare at Karlach across the room, who slaps her hand over her mouth as if she said the words aloud and not blasted into everyone’s brains through her poorly controlled tadpole. Astarion’s glare is piercing, but there is no malice behind his eyes as Shadowheart pulls the tiefling into the adjoining room by her tail. He looks back at Morgan.

“Come with me? There’s something I want to show you, out in the city.”

“Okay,” she agrees “Oh, uh…” She looks down at her robes, stained and filthy, likely from spending all day crawling through Cazador’s cellars. “I should change first. I’ll meet you downstairs, okay?”

“Of course, darling. I’ll be out front.”

When she finds him again leaning against the wall at the Tavern’s entrance, her appearance gives him pause. Her hair is freed from its usual bindings, oiled and shiny. And her outfit…

He picks at the edge of her collar, spying a familiar style of stitching. “Did you get that from the manor?”

Morgan’s eyes are saucer wide. “It was in a pile of clothing that Shadowheart said was more fashionable than the rest. I just picked the one on top! I could…go change…”

He laughs. It feels good to do so, the heavy weight of his heart feeling lighter. “You do the garment far more favors than Violet ever could. Don’t you dare change out of it.” He punctuates his point by leaning forward and planting a small, chaste kiss on her lips.

She melts into him, and when he pulls away she’s flush with her life’s blood. He smiles indulgently, feeling every bit like the lovesick fool he knew he was.

He takes her by the hand again, and leads her to his intended destination. They walk in silence, around darkened city streets that he could navigate while blindfolded. Decade after decade of stalking these streets and prowling for victims to drag back to his master.

No longer. Now he walks these streets as a free man, no longer following puppet strings, performing acts of depravity in order to serve another’s will. He could do what he wanted, where he wanted, and with whom he wanted.

And he wanted her. In every way he could have, if she’d allow it, for as long as her little mortal life would have him.

Morgan makes a small sound of surprise when she realizes where he’s brought her, but she lets him continue leading into the cemetery, winding deeper into the grounds around rows of grave markers.

She holds back when he stops at the one with his name on it.

“Oh, she says. “This is your…”

“Yes.” He lets her warm hand slip out of his grasp while she inspects the writing on the grave. He leans down to brush away the shrubbery and plant life that had grown up around the marker, trying not to think of how it must have been over a century since someone last came to visit his grave given its state of disrepair; if there ever was anyone who cared enough to.

When he speaks again, his voice cuts through the deafening silence that’s settled over them, making Morgan jump slightly.

“Buried nearly 200 years ago. I haven’t been back since the night I woke up down there.” His face twists, bitterness rising from his gut. “Cazador was waiting for me, when I clawed my way through six feet of dirt to reach the surface. From that day on I was his.”

He turns back towards her, the bitterness fading as quickly as it came. “Until today.”

“You were never his. He could compel your body, your words, but your mind was your own.”

He gives her a sad smile, knowing a bit of where her perspective comes from as a survivor of her own religious cult. Mistreated though she was, praise all the gods she never suffered the hells that only a creature of the night like him could endure.

“Still, there’s almost nothing left of the person I was, just a name on a rock. I hid in the shadows while the person I was lay here, dead and buried. Now I have to figure out who I am, and what my future holds for me...and I admit I find that to be a daunting and terrifying prospect.”

“What do you want your future to hold, Astarion?” Her eyes look at him so softly now; so different from the woman he'd known at the beginning of their journey.

“Shouldn’t you be able to tell me that, little soothsayer?” Reaching into his pack, he produces a little wooden box she would recognize as part of her fortune telling kit.

“When did you-” she snatches at the box and flashes her eyes at him.

“A while back, at the Grove. After you did those readings for the tieflings,” he smirks, still pleased about that particular bit of thievery.

“So um…I thought you knew…” She fidgets with the box, tapping the edges with the blunt nail of her thumb. “None my fortune telling is real. I make it all up based on what they want to hear, from the thoughts I can pick up on. People would pay a lot of money for that, over and over.”

“A charlatan!” he exclaims in mock surprise, sitting back on his heels. “And here I am, a vampire with a mind impenetrable to your magic.”

“Not to my tadpole,” she protests.

“Ah ah,” he tuts, tapping her nose. “No cheating! I trust you to do your best; you’re a professional after all. Treat me just as you would one of your customers.” He lets his eyes grow wet and pleading. “Please…indulge me?”

She lets out a petulant sigh, kneels across from him and shuffles the cards. When she’s done, she pats down an area of dirt flat enough to set her cards into.

“Cut the deck,” she guides him after she sets it down. He kneels in front of her and follows the direction.

“Okay, draw your card.”

He does so, revealing a skeleton in black armor on a horse, carrying a flag. Even he knew a Death card when he saw it.

“A bit on the nose given our surroundings, isn’t it?”

She’s silent for a second, looking at the card with her brow furrowed. “It’s not…physical death. It can be a metaphorical death. The end of a major phase of your life.”

“Well, That only tells me what I already know. But what does it say about my future?”

She falls silent again, studying the card as she ponders his question.

“So…Death is…change. Yeah? So...you should welcome any new changes as a cleansing of your former state of being, and see it as a welcome and positive force leading you to a new transformation. Even if the change is painful and scary at times, it is necessary for new opportunities and advantages to arise.”

“And just what am I meant to be transforming into, exactly?”

“The person you will become, without that man holding you in place.” These words are spoken firmly, with more confidence.

“Hm. I suppose that makes a certain kind of sense,” he strokes his chin. “What does it say about my love life?”

“Oh!” She plays along, adopting a thoughtful look. “Well, if you think about it, loving someone is to be forever changed. If you have someone special in your life, now is the time to embrace your feelings and tell them how you really feel."

The little showman in her comes out with that line, he observes with amusement.

“My dear fortune teller, what if she rejects me? I wouldn’t know how to bear it.”

Morgan taps the Death card once more. “Change is scary, but inevitable. You must learn to handle that uncertainty.”

Well, I suppose I mustn’t defy the cards then should I?”

Astarion gathers the cards together and sets them aside, kneeling in front of her to then take her hands in his. She adopts his same posture and kneels with him amid the soil. Her attention is on him entirely as she looks up at him cutely with those big, human eyes.

“I am…ashamed to admit I didn’t care for you when we first met. I looked down on you being a human, for being stupid enough to let a vampire bite you.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” she sighs, looking away with a wry expression. “I’ve been with plenty of High Elves and a lot of you are just…like that, vampire or not.”

“You really need to have better standards for your lovers,” he presses gently, guiding her chin back towards him.

“Funny, that’s what Shadowheart used to say when she’d catch me sneaking off to your tent.”

He lets out a bark of laughter. “She wasn’t wrong.” His mirth fades, expression turning more serious.

“I was wrong. You’ve treated me with nothing but generosity and understanding, even through the blood lust, pain and misery I caused you. For so long, I only knew how to be cruel and to see such things as weakness. Cruelty…it springs forth so easily onto my tongue and yet you were patient with me through all of it when I was least deserving of it. I feel safe with you, and seen. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

He closes his eyes and sucks in a deep, shuddery breath through his desiccated lungs. “I love you.”

Morgan looks down, then back up at him. Her eyes are wet. His chest flutters with her freely given blood.

“I also am ashamed for how I thought of you,” she admits in a trembling voice. He pushes some strands of green hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear. “I couldn’t read your thoughts in the way I was used to, so I assumed you were like many of the elves I have known before, who liked slumming it with humans. I didn’t take you or the things I was learning about you seriously…not at first. I didn’t know that you were hurting so deeply this entire time.”

“Darling, I’ve had lifetimes to conceal my own pain and feelings. It’s not something you should feel at fault for; I was the one manipulating you.”

“I know,” she sniffs, a few tears escaping. He brushes them away with his thumb. “I love you too. I want to be with you, after all this. If we survive.”

“That is…” he’s moved that she can say that after being reminded of his manipulations, and so they hold each other for a moment, cradled in the dirt of his grave. He pulls away from her warmth reluctantly, and reaches for the dagger in his belt.

“Well, I should probably fix this,” he gestures to his grave marker. She watches in silence as he bends down to carve his new dates into the stone. When his work is done, he turns back towards his lover.

“I’ve been dead in the ground long enough. It’s time to try living again.”

He kneels back down and pushes her into the dirt. She makes a small squeal of surprise he’s heard dozens of times in their previous couplings, and it excites him now as much as it did back then. Morgan looks up at him, sprawled in the dirt, her one pale eye shining in the darkness. Violet’s outfit clings to her curves in ways it never did on his sibling, and he takes in the sight of her glowing under the moonlight appreciatively. Arousal winds through him, and taking charge of it feels right at this moment.

“You know,” he bends down, presses his nose into her neck, feels her pulse jump, “If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded…”

“Really?” he senses her heart rate quicken, blood rushing. “Now? Here?”

“I brought a blanket, if you don’t want to stay in the dirt.” he grins, pulling the leather satchel from his waist. He well remembers their first tryst, where she insisted he walk back to camp to get a blanket before she would lay with him in the clearing.

“I meant…that it’s been a little while…is it okay?” She’s not hiding her eagerness very well, and he smiles at her fondly with heavy lidded eyes.

Bending down to mouth her pulse point, he’s careful not to break her skin despite his vampiric senses craving the sweet magic in her blood, just beyond his fangs. Her breathy little gasp goes straight to his groin; he presses himself against her so she can feel just how much he wants her. Her leg curls around his lower back as their bodies fit together.

“Yes,” he assures her, then grins at her loud, whorish moan when he rocks his hips. Their lips crash together and he doesn’t think about anything but the woman in his arms, laying with him in dirt he crawled out of as a slave. There was something poetic there, if he had a mind for that sort of thing.

He’d leave the poetry to young Wyll.

“I love you,” he groans again into her skin, as nothing else in his repertoire was fit for her anymore. Her lips and tongue meet his as his hands grope under fabric to press against the scorching heat of living skin. She yelps and shifts under him.

“Cold! Your hands are cold,” she whines.

“I’d better warm them up quickly then,” he smirks, moving his hands upward to cup each heavy breast from under the blouse. He captures her lips again and gives them a squeeze, delighting in the softness of her body and the way she writhes under him when he does it.

His eyes trace the scar across her sloped nose, her parted lips and the small gap in her front teeth, the freckles dancing on her throat. He wants to drown in her beauty, as penance for the man he was before that had denigrated how she looked in his mind, the pathetic wretch that only saw beauty in the narrow definition that Cazador taught him.

He opens his mouth to try and speak some pretty words about how she looks to him, but none of his thousands of lines are sincere enough for how he feels “Gods, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, though even that feels inadequate. He prods her with his tadpole instead, letting her feel how he feels.

Morgan responds in kind and his brain floods with the strong emotions surging through her in this moment. Her longing for his touch on her body, her fear for them surviving their encounter with the Netherbrain, her relief that he wasn’t angry with her, her desire to hold and kiss him over and over and over…

He lets her do just that, as they retreat from the Hivemind. Her lips on his, parting only for him to draw her top over her head and off, hands free to enjoy all of her that he could touch. He palms her breasts until his hands are warm, pulling one puffy nipple into his mouth and slipping down into her breeches, into her underwear.

She moans when he cups her, then her body goes rigid. He jerks back in concern when glowing light spills out of her body; her wild magic about to surge! Both of them scramble to their feet in the loose soil.

“No-no-no-no-no!” Morgan cries, losing her footing and falling to her knees as the surge washes over her in a blinding blue light. Astarion grabs his dagger as the smell of sulfur fills the air; A flash of heat and a cambion materializes before them, armed and angry.

“The fuck?” The devil growls and raises its spear at the pair. “You dare summon me? I’ll rip your guts out then drag your souls back into the hells with me, foolish mortals.”

Astarion steps between Morgan and the creature, dodging its clumsy swing in his direction and giving her a chance to retreat behind him and ready some spell. He has to duck under another jab of the spear that grazes a little too close to his ribs before she’s ready; vocalizing the chant to a spell that holds it in place, frozen.The cambion’s expression drops as it realizes the peril it is in.

He glances at the concentration on Morgan’s face, and then back at the helpless devil they have in their trap. Grinning madly, he bares his fangs and sinks them into the neck of their trapped prey. Not the gentle lover’s bite that Morgan has only known, but the powerful jaws of a vampire spawn at full strength; snapping deep into the soft muscle and arteries of the devil’s throat. Hot blood -violently hot- burns a trail down his throat before he twists his head sharply and tears the creature’s throat out entirely.

A great gout of blood sprays onto his face and more down his throat. The taste is smokey, sulfurous, and sets his tongue alight in a most delightful way that whets his appetite.

It's not his first time drinking infernal blood, but it is his first time having such a glut of it as once. The cambion is unable to move or make a sound despite its pumping wound; no thrashing, no wrestling, no need to subdue. Helpless as he swallows mouthful after mouthful until all life is drained from the devil, and the spell collapses with no monster left to hold.

Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he staggers a bit, overwhelmed by the sheer quantity and the burning heat now settling in his stomach.

“Gods,” Morgan pants. “A devil. Those ones are rare, I’m sorry. That could have gone much worse.”

“Has that happened while you’ve been alone?” he wonders with some concern. Blood drips down his chin and he swipes at it with his sleeve again while watching her bare tits sway while she attempts to regain her footing. He had been hard before the devil joined them, now feasted on its infernal blood, his erection strains painfully against the tight lacing on his breeches. He has to steady himself against his tombstone.

“Not alone,” she responds, approaching him from behind. ‘One time though, in a crowded market. I ran away and let the Fist deal with it.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t arrested,” he points out, groaning as his pants press even tighter into his suffering cock. Gods, this blood was intense.

She waves her hand dismissively, then giggles at the sight of him. “You’re covered in that thing’s blood. Do devils taste good to you?”

“Nothing compared to the taste of you,” he answers hoarsely. “Your blood is something special.”

“Well I was your first…so that must be why,” she waves away the compliment, her eyes dropping obviously to his crotch. “You seem to be having a hard time there. Want some help?”

He nods desperately, aching to relieve the pressure as molten fire courses through his veins and sexual arousal coils in his belly. He feels hers too, through the close proximity of their tadpoles.

Morgan’s practiced hands release him from his bindings, earning a hiss of relief. There’s a single long moment where she hesitates, one hand on his chest and the other stroking his erection softly. Far too softly.

Her heart is pounding so loudly it echoes in his ears. Then, she drops to her knees and swallows him down into her warm, waiting mouth.

His strangled cry is the one that fills the dead air now, nails digging into the worn stone. He throws his head back, and can’t help the joyous laugh that bubbles from deep in his chest. One of her hands pushes his balls up ever so gently, so she can angle the entirety of him more easily down her throat.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” he gasps through clenched teeth, eyes rolling back when she responds immediately and handles him with more force. “I want you…I want you to ruin me.”

She looks up into his pleading eyes for a brief moment and shuffles closer, her plush breasts brushing his knees.

And ruin him she does, with her wicked little mouth that works over him better than most career whores, and it isn’t long until thick strands of his prerelease are hanging from her chin from her efforts. When she has to pull back and breathe, her fist is on him, her tongue finding the sensitive spots on the head, dipping under the foreskin, lapping fluid that continues to leak out of his cock.

“Gods,” he manages to croak out, scrabbling to keep his balance against his grave stone. Her mouth on him was hotter than the fires of Grymforge and his release was building quicker than he could get a control over.

Swallowing him down all the way to the root once more and gripping his balls in a vice-like grip, she rocks her face into him. His dick, constrained by the walls of her throat, pulses once; and then it's on him. His vision goes black at the edges, silence ringing in his ears, as he spills into her throat and mouth and out of it. His eyes squeeze closed as she sucks him through his orgasm, each slam of pleasure enough to make him arch heavily against the gravestone with a shout.

The stone gives way, forcing him stumbling backwards. He hears it crack beneath him as Morgan’s mouth pulls off of him with an obscene sound, covered in his mess. It hangs in thick strands from her chin and dribbles down the side of her mouth, onto her heavy tits, and into the dirt.

He pants heavily on the piece of stone that hadn't crumbled, foggy from the bliss she’d granted him. He turns his head finally to look at the damage. The stone broke where his hands had been on the top of the marker, cracking it all the way down to the etched runes.

“Oh no,” she coughs, and spits onto the ground. “Your grave…”

He can’t help it; a forceful belly laugh erupts from him into the night air. He doesn’t care about the stupid rock. Lifting himself from the damaged grave, he pulls his ruffled shirt over his head and joins her back in the dirt, quickly covering her body with his own. He feels and tastes his own cooling spend when he presses his mouth to hers, but pays it no mind at all. The kiss is ravenous and desperate and steals all the air from her lungs.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he purrs, digging his hands into the soft, bruisable skin of her hips before turning her onto her hands and knees before him. He wipes his own mess from his mouth and takes a moment to admire the sight before him; her ass in the air, the dark thatch of hair and sopping wet cunt spread open before him. He drags the head of his cock over the opening, not pushing in but enjoying the slide of their wet skin. Her little mewling sounds are an added bonus.

“Astarion, please,” she begs when he doesn’t move right away and pushes her ass firmly against his groin, still stiff and aching. Oh, how he loves hearing her beg for it! Another time and he’d draw out her torment and tease her for much longer. Not tonight, now he gives into her need and sinks into her wet cut, tearing a howl from the both of them. A snap of his hips pushes her deeper in the dirt, and then there is just the wet sounds of slapping flesh and their moans and cries mingling together under the stars.

He watches her body bounce and jump with each thrust. The infernal blood puts him into a frenzy; there’s no outside world anymore, only her hot little hole sucking him into a quickly approaching oblivion.

“Hey! HEY!! What in the hells…you kids can’t be out here! Wait, is that a devil?”

Astarion turns and snarls at the sudden intruder, slipping out of Morgan’s wet heat while she swears under her breath and reaches for his dagger once more on this night.

He’s greeted with the vision of an elderly dwarf dressed in the city garb of a Groundskeeper looking in horror at the blade and fangs brandished on one side, and the corpse of a devil on the other. He turns and runs in the direction he came from with cry of pure terror.

Astarion lets out a deep suffering sigh at their constant interruptions, then turns back towards his lover, still sprawled in the dirt.

“He’s probably going to go fetch the guards,” he complains, pulling her close by the throat so he can plunder her lips for a moment. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him back, making his chest feel tight again. “We should move somewhere else…unless you want to pick up where we left off in one of the city jails?”

“I know a place nearby,” she plants a sweet little kiss on his collarbone and pulls away, towards her pile of clothing. Both of them are filthy; covered in a mix of sweat, dirt and cum. They hurry into their clothes, not bothering with the undergarments, and leave behind nothing more than a devil corpse and his broken gravestone.

Morgan leads this time, holding his hand while they run giggling out of the grave site, holding onto the clothing they didn’t bother to put back on. She takes him a mere three blocks down, on the opposite side of the market district, and stops at an unremarkable wooden door. A sign hangs over it, displaying only the runes that spelled out a single word: Fortunes.

“This is your shop? Where you lived?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Who knew we were so close, this whole time?”

“Thats…” he stops, unsettled. He’d probably walked past this unremarkable looking building thousands of times. That at any point, if he’d had the mind to step inside for any reason…

“I lost my key when I was on the Nautiloid. Can you get us in?”

He slips a lockpick out and twirls it in his fingers in response. It's not a difficult lock at all, and he deftly pushes the tumblers in place within seconds. “Not very good security darling, we’ll have to fix that.”

“Sure, if you say so,” she steps over the threshold, then turns back to look at him with an outstretched hand.

“Come on in, vampire. You’re welcome here.”

~~ Continued in Part 2

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #bg3: morgan #nsft

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