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genshinluvr · 1 year

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Pictures of a Shining Star

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: Nanook's sudden disappearance has left you feeling sad. To cheer you up, and without your knowledge, Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, Caelus, March, and Himeko decided to get you a phone! March appoints herself as your unofficial official photographer and decides to take pictures of the littlest things for you and sends them your (and the men's) way.

Note: This took me a while to post because I was distracted by HSR. I made a new HSR account and was finishing up the quest in Belobog. So, yeah, that's why it took me a while to continue, finish, and post this fic 💀 This fic is longer than the first two fics I posted in the HSR series, so I hope you all enjoy this fic 🥹 After posting this fic on Tumblr and AO3, I'm heading to bed. I'll make and post the mini-fic for the Isekai Genshin series when I wake up because I've been lacking sleep. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Kind of starts off depressing in the beginning

Word Count: 9.7k

You expect to see Nanook when you wake up in the abyss, but unfortunately, you do not see the tall figure that once towered over you when you woke up in the void. The same tall figure you first met in the state of unconsciousness when you first arrived at the Xianzhou Luofu not long ago. This was the fifth time you didn’t see Nanook in your dreams, and the last time you talked to Nanook felt like ages ago.

Now, here you are, sitting at the table in the Astral Express, shoving a spoon full of cereal into your mouth before munching it glumly. From a distance, March, Himeko, Dan Heng, Mr. Yang, and Caelus look at you worriedly. If the others had to be honest, you look like shit. You have bags under your eyes, your hair is unkempt— you did wake up from your sleep not long ago and didn’t bother to change out of your pajamas or brush your hair before leaving your room— and you look very upset.

Himeko clears her throat. “Does anyone want to speak to [Y/N]? They look upset. Did something happen?” asks Himeko, looking at the four people beside her.

March sighs, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “Ever since [Y/N] regained their memories, they’ve been a little bit off. I’m not sure if it’s the lack of communication with the Aeon or if it was because they’re not in their universe,” March replies before letting out another sad sigh.

Dan Heng opens his mouth to comment, but a porcelain bowl scraping and squeaking across the table cuts him off. You push the bowl to the side, laying your head on the table and closing your eyes. You weren’t sure why the lack of Nanook was hurting you. Perhaps it’s because Nanook was the first…. Person (being?)…. You met in this universe.

That, and because Nanook told you that the both of you will meet face-to-face soon, only to disappear without a trace. Gosh, you want to be mad at Nanook, but you can’t get yourself to be upset. Plus, you have another can of worms to deal with, and that is learning how to survive in another universe without accidentally getting yourself killed.

Footsteps approach your table, and the chair in front of you slides out from underneath the table. You open your eyes and turn to see Mr. Yang sitting across from you. You blink at the older man before sitting up, running your fingers through your unkempt hair. Mr. Yang leans in his seat and clears his throat, sliding the chair closer to the table.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asks Mr. Yang, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

You shake your head, resting your chin on the table. “Not really. I’m afraid that if I talk about it, I’ll start crying,” you mumble, letting yourself stare off into space.

You and Mr. Yang sat in silence. Dan Heng, March, and Caelus slowly make their way toward the table where you and Mr. Yang are sitting. March sits beside you, while Dan Heng and Caelus sit beside Mr. Yang.

March rests her chin on the table before pressing her cheek on the cool tabletop. “How are you feeling, [Y/N]? You woke up late today,” says March, poking your cheek lightly with her manicured nails.

You hum, closing your eyes. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Too many things were occupying my mind, and it kept me up most of the night,” you reply.

March gives you a sympathetic smile. “Oh, cheer up, [Y/N]! We got something that’ll cheer you up!” says March, looking at the three men sitting before you and her. The three men stare at March blankly, making the girl laugh nervously. “I saaaaid, ‘We got something that’ll cheer you up!’”

Again, the three men continue to give March a blank stare. You look between March and the three men sitting before you, confused about what’s supposed to happen. March lets out an exasperated groan, throwing her head back out of frustration. In the distance, Himeko is giggling in the corner with Pom-Pom beside her, shaking his head with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Were we supposed to do something?” Dan Heng asks, raising an eyebrow at March.

March nods rapidly. “Yes! When I said that we have something that’ll cheer [Y/N] up, that was supposed to be your cue!” March exclaims, throwing her hands in the air before rubbing her throbbing temples with a frustrated sigh.

Caelus laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “In case you haven’t noticed, we weren’t informed of this so-called cue of yours,” Caelus interjects, puckering his lips while staring at the fuming pink-haired girl in front of him.

You reach for your bowl of cereal to slurp the milk, but March unintentionally smacks it out of your hand, sending the bowl in the air before it shatters into a huge mess. You, Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, March, and Caelus stare at the mess on the glossy tile floor. Pom-Pom waddles to your table, glaring at the pink-haired girl.

“You made a mess!” exclaims Pom-Pom, crossing his arms over his chest with a small growl. “Do you know I work tirelessly to make sure the Astral Express is in tip-top shape!?”

March laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry, Pom-Pom! I-I didn’t mean to smack the bowl from [Y/N]’s hands!” March apologizes.

You get up from your seat, grab a napkin from the table and begin cleaning up the mess. Pom-Pom grumbles under his breath before waddling off. While you’re cleaning up the mess, March is giving the three men an earful while making sure you didn’t hear the conversation. While you’re wiping up the mess, someone walks up to you, stopping in front of the shattered bowl. You look up to see Caelus, who kneels in front of you and holds a box out to you. You stare at the box before grabbing it from Caelus’ hand.

“What’s this? You guys didn’t need to get me anything,” you murmur, unwrapping the box while Caelus watches you with eagle eyes.

Caelus clears his throat. “We got it for you because it’s the best way to communicate with each other while we’re far away. In case you’re on the Astral Express and we’re at Belobog or the Xianzhou Luofu, you can reach out to any of us,” replies Caelus.

Your heart sinks into your chest. “Oh, no. You guys got me a phone?” You ask, looking at Caelus and the other three with disbelief.

It’s not like you were opposed to getting a phone, but you didn’t think they would buy you a phone themselves. Especially since they bought it without your knowledge. You hand the box back to Caelus before picking up the broken pieces of the bowl, placing them on the napkin, and tossing them away into the trash. You grab a broom and begin sweeping the tiny pieces into the dustpan.

Dan Heng looks at you quizzically. “Did you not want us to get you a phone? If we didn’t get you one, how would we be able to contact you while we’re far away or end up getting separated?” Dan Heng asks.

“Plus, when we go Trailblazing together, you can make new memories with us! I volunteer to be your photographer!” March says proudly, raising her hands in the air with a big smile.

You stroke your chin, staring at the ground. “New memories, huh?” You murmur. “I’m not opposed to making new memories with you guys.”

March perks up and cheers loudly before bouncing over to you and throwing her arms around your shoulders with glee. You snort and wrap your arm around her, making sure not to drop the broom on the ground. After cleaning the mess on the floor, March dragged you to the nearest chair and had you set your phone up while Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang hung around in case you needed any assistance with setting up your phone.

“Oooh! You know what we should do after [Y/N] officially sets their phone up?” March asks, clapping her hands with excitement.

Mr. Yang stares at March, raising his eyebrows at the pink-haired girl. “And what is that?” asks Mr. Yang.

“We should take pictures! Lots and lots of ‘em!” exclaims March. “And as [Y/N]’s unofficial official photographer, I will be the one to take all of the pictures!”

Once your phone is officially set up, March begins passing your phone around so other people can start saving their phone numbers into your phone before adding your number to their phone. Once your phone returns to you, you put your phone in your pocket, but March stops you.

She holds her hand out in front of you. “Ah, ah, ah! Don’t put your phone away just yet, [Y/N]! We still need to take pictures! I am not letting you walk around without a background for your home and lock screen!” says March, propping her other hand on her hips.

You stare at the girl in front of you. “We can do that after I’m done getting ready? I don’t want to look like a mess in the pictures,” you say.

“Pfft! It’s okay! It’s not like the photos are leaving your phone anyway!” March says.

You shake your head. “Still, I want to look decent,” you mumble.

Realization hits March a few seconds later, and her eyes light up. A smile stretches across her face, giving you a knowing look. You stare at March, heat rushing to your cheeks. You’re hoping no one aside from March notices your change of demeanor. Plus, if March is going to be your unofficial official photographer, you might as well try to look your best in the photos, right? Especially when other people will end up in the pictures soon.

March pretends to let out an exasperated sigh, slumping forward. “Alright, alright! As a professional and your unofficial official photographer, I cannot have you look terrible in your pictures. You may go get ready and freshen up for the pictures…. As long as you give me your phone before getting ready!” says March, holding her hand out.

You shrug your shoulders and hand your phone over to March without questioning her. You walk to your room to get ready for the day after multiple delays before breakfast. After getting ready for the day, you return to where the others are waiting for you, only to see March take a selfie with Dan Heng, Caelus, Mr. Yang, and Himeko. March looks up from your phone, and she beams at you with excitement.

“You’re back! And don’t you look cute! Trying to impress a certain someone?” March teases, poking you when you stand beside her.

You huff and look away from March, snatching your phone from her hands. “How many pictures did you take on my phone while I was away?” You ask, scrolling through your gallery.

March giggles, swaying to the side while watching you search for your gallery. The way you’re scrolling through your phone and searching for the gallery reminds her of Mr. Yang. She wonders if you know how to change profile pictures, unlike Mr. Yang. Poor guy couldn't figure it out and tried to message Caelus about it, only for Caelus to be no help at all. After two minutes of searching for the gallery, you finally found it. Once you clicked the gallery app, your eyes nearly popped out of your head.

“Two hundred?! How are there almost two hundred pictures in the gallery already, March?!” You screeched, turning to look at March incredulously.

March holds her hands up defensively. “Hey, hey, hey! Taking pictures wasn’t the only thing I did, alright? I also added you to our group chat!” March says, clicking through your phone and showing you the group chat she added you to.

The Astral Express Family. That’s cute.

March claps her hands. “Okay! Now that [Y/N] is finished with cutesy-ing up for a special someone, let's take pictures now!” March announces.

“Oh? Who’re you ‘cutesy-ing’ up for, [Y/N]?” asks Mr. Yang, approaching you with Dan Heng and Caelus at his side.

Your eyes widen, and you squeak, “Uh! Me? Cutesy-ing up for someone? I’m not cutesy-ing up for anyone, Mr. Yang! I just want to look decent in the pictures in case someone,” you look at March with a glare, “sends the pictures around!”

Mr. Yang raises his eyebrows at your response, a faint smirk appearing on his face as he gazes at you with amusement. You feel your face heat up as you press your lips into a thin line before nudging March’s side. March snickers and guides you to the front of the three men before standing beside you. Himeko stands beside March, and the six of you take a group selfie. The following picture was of you, March, Dan Heng, and Caelus. Then the next was of you, Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang.

This went on for a while, and the next thing you know, as you had expected, March has you send the pictures to the Astral Express Family group chat for everyone to save on their phones. You didn’t think March was going to have you send the images to the group chat, but boy, you’re glad you decided to, and you quote from March, cutesy up for the photos. You sure as hell did not want any of them to have an awful picture of you on their phones. You’re okay with sending the photos to each person individually if they wish to have the images. Still, March suggested sending it through the group chat to save some time.

While in the midst of sending the last ten photos to the group chat, March skips up to you and loops her arms around yours, diverting your attention from your phone.

“So! Are you ready to go to Belobog? Gepard and Sampo kept pestering Caelus about wanting to see you,” says March, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a teasing smile. “Right, Caelus?” March asks, leaning to the side to look at the silver-haired male.

Caelus approaches you and March with Mr. Yang and Dan Heng at his side. “I wouldn’t say that. Both Gepard and Sampo talked about wanting to hang out with us again before we go to the Xianzhou Luofu. I think it’d be nice to hang out with the two of them before we visit the Xianzhou Luofu,” says Caelus.

You blink at Caelus, March, Mr. Yang, and Dan Heng. “Wait, we’re stopping by the Xianzhou Luofu today after we stop by Belobog?” You ask, cocking your head to the side.

Mr. Yang looks at the time before sighing. “That is if we have time. Who knows how long we will be at Belobog,” replies Mr. Yang.

Everyone walks to the Parlor Car and begins taking their seats after Pom-Pom announces the Astral Express is taking off soon. You sit on the couch beside March and close your eyes, resting your head on the back cushions, bracing yourself for take off. You still weren’t used to the feeling of the Astral Express traversing through space, and it sometimes made you feel nauseous and dizzy.

You poke March’s arm to grab her attention. March looks up from her phone and scoots close when you gesture for her to come closer. “I’m going to take a nap. Can you wake me up when we arrive at Jarilo-VI or Belobog?”

March nods before looking back at her phone. You close your eyes and relax against the cushions. Your eyelids grow heavy as you slowly drift to sleep. When you open your eyes, you’re back in the abyss. The stars glimmer around you, and the void is silent. It’s so quiet that if you were to listen closely, you would’ve been able to hear your heart beating against your chest.

“You’re here,” says a familiar voice.

You turn your head and see Nanook towering over you. Nanook gazes at you with glowing gold eyes as you take a step closer. You weren’t sure if Nanook was okay with you getting any closer, but since you didn’t see any negative reaction, you stopped in front of Nanook’s towering form.

You give Nanook a smile. “I should be the one to say that. After all, you’re the one that completely disappeared after that incident,” you say, sitting on the ground. “Where did you go? Were you upset with me by any chance?” You ask, hugging your knees to your chest.

Nanook hums, refusing to look away from you. “That, I cannot answer. But what I can tell you is that we will be face-to-face in person very soon. I apologize if I made you worried. That was never my intention,” says Nanook, smiling at you.

You pucker your lips before turning around, having your back face Nanook’s direction. Nanook blinks at you quizzically, staring at your back while you stare into the void. Nanook’s lips twitch, trying to fight back a smile that’s forming. Even though Nanook has known you for a short amount of time, Nanook can tell that you’re sulking.

Nanook pokes you. “Are you upset with me? You’re not upset with me, are you?” asks Nanook, poking your back for the second time.

You huff in response, letting yourself fall over on your side, still hugging your knees to your chest. Nanook lets out an amused laugh before gently sliding his hands underneath your body and lifting you. Nanook stares at you while you continue to have your back facing his direction. Nanook sighs and caresses your hair while you continue to sulk in silence.

Nanook looks down at you, his face a few feet from your body. “If I made you upset and worried, I apologize. Will you forgive me?” Nanook murmurs.

Nanook hears a faint sigh coming from you. You roll over to face the towering silver-white-haired figure before you, staring at him while lying in the palm of his hands. You and Nanook stare at each other without saying a word. You weren’t mad at Nanook.

But you were worried to the point where you’d try to take as many naps as you could just so you could see the Aeon, making sure you could still communicate with each other. Each time you don’t see Nanook, you can’t help but feel discouraged. And since there wasn’t a way for you to communicate with Nanook outside of your dreams, and Nanook is the one that can make it happen, you feel helpless.

After all, Nanook is the first being you talked to, and Nanook did bring you into this universe. You and many people around you have no idea how the Aeon was able to take you away from your world and plop you into their universe without warning. You grab Nanook’s finger and hug them to your chest.

“I’m not mad at you. You did, however, make me worry about you. I thought I did something to upset you, causing you to ignore me for weeks!” You say, frowning at the Aeon before you.

Nanook blinks at you. “Little one, I wasn’t ignoring you for weeks,” replies Nanook, a smile gracing those gorgeous features.

“Well, to me, it felt like weeks! I….” you trailed off with a sharp intake of breath. “I was hoping to see you after you disappeared all of a sudden, but I couldn’t reach out to you. There wasn’t another way for me to talk to you.”

Nanook strokes your cheek, frowning. “I really do apologize for disappearing out of the blue. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel this way. Can you forgive me, little one?” asks Nanook, brushing your hair from your face.

You wanted to play hard to get, but you can’t. Not when Nanook is giving you what looks like puppy dog eyes. You sit up and nod slowly. A wide smile appears on Nanook’s face. You press your lips into a thin line when you see Nanook’s smile. Nanook puts you on the ground suddenly, disappearing before your sight.

You blink, getting up from the ground, and begin searching around the void for the Aeon. Oh gosh, why did Nanook disappear out of nowhere like last time? Last time Nanook looked upset, but before Nanook put you on the ground, he was smiling. While you are occupied with searching for Nanook, you feel a tap on your shoulders. You turn to see Nanook standing behind you, no longer the once towering figure above you.

Before you can scold him for disappearing so suddenly, Nanook grabs you by your wrist, pulls you to his chest, and wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. You close your eyes and relax in Nanook’s arms, wrapping your arms around his waist. Despite the open wounds on Nanook’s body and gold blood flowing from the wounds like water, you let Nanook hug you tightly against his chest.

“It feels nice to have you in my arms,” you hear Nanook whisper, feeling Nanook press a kiss on your forehead.

You close your eyes, relaxing in Nanook’s arms. It really does feel nice to be in Nanook’s arms. Being in Nanook’s arms is so comfortable compared to sleeping on your bed. The world around you slowly becomes dark, and before you know it, you wake up to someone shaking you awake. You groan and try to swat the hand away, hoping it’ll make the person stop shaking you.

You hear an obnoxious laugh. “Oh, wow, Gumdrop! You really are a heavy sleeper like what March said,” the person laughs.

Sampo.

“Come on, Gumdrop! I know you can hear me! If you had those foxian ears, it would’ve been twitching right now because you love the sound of my voice, don’tcha, Gumdrop?” Sampo asks teasingly.

You feel, you presume, Sampo brushes your hair away from your face before caressing your face with his large hands. You hear someone let out an annoyed sigh. You weren’t sure who it was exactly, but it was either Dan Heng, Gepard, or Mr. Yang.

“Your failed flirting tactic isn’t going to wake [Y/N] up from their slumber,” Dan Heng mutters.

You can hear the irritation in his voice as Sampo continues to caress your face and stroke your cheek with his thumb. You want to continue to sleep. You’re so tired, and your limbs feel like lead. You hear a faint click.

“Why are you taking a picture of them sleeping in your arms, Sampo? It’s a little creepy for you to do that,” Gepard mutters.

You hear Sampo let out a scandalous gasp. “What? It’s not creepy! [Y/N] looks so cute when they’re sleeping! How can you not want to take a picture of their cute face when they’re sleeping?” Sampo asks.

March makes a ‘meh’ sound before drawing out a sigh. “Gepard’s right on this one, Sampo. As [Y/N]’s unofficial official photographer, even I wouldn’t do something like this,” says March.

You grumble in response and slowly open your eyes. As your eyes gradually adjust to the light around you, you see Sampo grinning down at you through your blurry vision. You bring your hand up to your eyes, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You look around to see people circling around you, watching you regain consciousness.

Gepard gives you a tiny smile. “You’re awake. You were sleeping for a while,” comments Gepard, sweeping your hair away from your face when the wind blows it onto your face.

You adjust yourself to sit up in Sampo’s arms, stretching your arms while Sampo wraps his arms around your waist, snuggling up against you. While you’re trying to force yourself to be awake, the others around you are glaring daggers at Sampo. Mr. Yang subtly smacks Sampo’s arms from your waist while glaring at the merchant.

Gepard holds his hands out for you to take. You smile at Gepard and grab ahold of his hand before standing up. Sampo pouts and crosses his arms over his chest when you get off of his lap. Still feeling exhausted and disoriented from your nap, you rub your eyes with your knuckles really hard.

Gepard grabs your hand to stop you from rubbing your eyes any longer. You stare at Gepard sleepily before looking around. You’re in Belobog now, and somehow you didn’t wake up to the sound of bustling crowds or to the feeling of someone picking you up and carrying you out of the Astral Express. You turn to look at March, Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang.

“How did I end up here? I thought you guys were going to wake me up before we got off the Astral Express,” you say, running your hands through your hair.

The crisp air of Belobog sends chills down your spine, making you visibly shiver while rubbing your arms. The brisk air nipping at your skin, causing goosebumps to prick on your arms. Noticing your slight discomfort with the temperature of Belobog, Mr. Yang takes his coat off before draping it over your shoulders. You’re immediately engulfed in warmth, making you sigh with contentment.

You smiled at the brown-haired man and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the stoic man. Mr. Yang nods, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. At that moment, you hear a faint click of a camera but ignore it. You feel the cold nip at your nose and cheeks, making you press your cold hand against your face. Everyone around you seems unbothered by the chilly air of Belobog while you are shivering in your shoes and Mr. Yang’s coat.

Gepard crosses his arms over his chest and gestures to Sampo. “When the Astral Express landed on Belobog, Sampo entered the Express to greet all of you. You were sleeping on the couch in the Astral Express, and March 7th was trying to wake you up. Of course, you didn’t wake up, and Sampo volunteered to carry you,” replies Gepard.

You turn to look at March, who waddles up to you before linking her arms around yours. You yawn and nod, not questioning why they didn’t leave you on the Astral Express if you weren’t waking up. March nudges you lightly to get your attention. You look at March, blinking at the pink-haired girl owlishly.

March leans to whisper into your ears. “While you were asleep, I put Sampo and Gepard’s number into your phone while they added you to their contacts list. Was that okay?” asks March.

You nod. “Yeah, that’s fine with me! As long as you didn’t take any unflattering pictures of me while I was napping,” you reply.

March stares at you with wide eyes before looking away sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck with a nervous laugh. You narrow your eyes at March’s strange behavior. You unloop your arms from March’s arm, crossing your arms over your chest while staring her down.

March puffs her cheeks and points at the others around you two. “I’m not the only one that took unflattering pictures of you, you know! They did it too! In fact, Sampo was the first person to do it!” March exclaims, sticking her nose in the air with a loud huff.

You sigh and run your hands through your hair. There are too many people to scold, and you’re too hungry to scold anyone individually. Your phone chimes, and you look at your phone to see a new text message from Sampo. It was a picture of you knocked out in his arms while he was smiling widely at the camera. You groan internally, covering your face with your hand. You can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, and you can’t tell if it is from the cold or if it’s from embarrassment.

Sampo struts over to you and throws his arms over your shoulders, pulling you to his side. “I think you look adorable when you’re asleep, Gumdrop! I hope you don’t mind that I made it my home screen background,” says Sampo, patting your head.

Well, at least in this world, you’re someone’s phone background. You smile at Sampo and shake your head. “I don’t mind it as long as it’s not an embarrassing picture of me,” you reply.

“Are we going to do something, or are we going to stand around all day and do nothing in Belobog?” asks Dan Heng, raising his eyebrows at Sampo and Gepard.

Gepard clears his throat, nodding. “Ah, yes, right. Please, follow me as I show you around the Administrative District,” says Gepard, gesturing to you all to follow him while casting a glance in your and Sampo’s direction.

The tour around the Administrative District would have been even better if it wasn’t for the cold. While there are heaters around the area, it’s not enough for you to warm up, and not even Mr. Yang’s coat can keep you warm from the bitter cold. It could be worse. At least it’s not in some mountain surrounded by five feet of snow.

The flower shop, from a distance, grabs your attention. It looks inviting and very warm. Oh, you bet the flower shop is nice and warm on the inside compared to the outside. Without looking away from the flower shop, you grab the nearest person’s arm and tug on their shirt sleeve, pointing at the flower shop.

“Can we go into the flower shop?” You ask, continuing to tug on the sleeves.

The person hums. “Do you want to look at the flowers?” asks Caelus, gazing down at you and then at the flower shop.

You blink at Caelus and slowly nod. “Yeah! I also want to go in there because it’s really cold, and my hands are freezing,” you reply, pressing your cold hands against Caelus’ warm cheeks.

Caelus flinches and grabs your hands while you’re trying to get warm by pressing yourself against his side. Caelus chuckles and wraps his arms around you, rubbing your hands with his to create heat for your freezing hands. You shiver, pouting while sniffling dramatically. Caelus stifles his laugh, shaking his head.

While you were pouting and huddling close to Caelus, letting him rub your hands together to create heat, March pulled her phone out and snapped a picture of the two of you. Caelus walks over to the men with you waddling beside him, your hands remaining in his grasp.

“Hey, so [Y/N] wants to go into the flower shop to warm up. Is that okay?” asks Caelus, continuing to rub his hands with yours.

Mr. Yang nods. “That’s fine with us. Is my coat not keeping them warm enough?” asks Mr. Yang as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You stare at Mr. Yang with your mouth agape. The man isn’t wearing the coat he gave you, and yet he’s not freezing or shivering like you. Heck, you don’t even see a single goosebump on this man’s arm! Then again, he’s wearing a long sleeve shirt, so you technically can’t tell if he’s cold or not.

You press yourself against Caelus’ side. “Are you not cold, Mr. Yang?” You ask.

Mr. Yang shakes his head. “No, I’m not cold. Maybe you’re not used to the weather here,” Mr. Yang answers.

After getting confirmation that you can go into the flower shop, you pull your hands out from Caelus’ grasp before jogging to the flower shop without hesitation. Caelus sighs, tucking his hands in his pockets before following after you. March skips up to Caelus happily, showing him her phone. Caelus pauses in his steps and presses his lips into a thin line.

“Can you send that to me?” Caelus asks shyly.

March grins at Caelus, wiggling her eyebrows at the silver-haired man before nodding. “Sure! Would you like for me to send it in the group chat or just to you?”

Before Caelus can reply, Sampo, Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, and Gepard walk up to them. Caelus clears his throat, signaling to March that they’ll continue the conversation another time. March sighs and rolls her eyes, walking up the steps of the small flower shop. When everyone walks into the Eversummer Florist, the first thing they see is you taking pictures of the flowers while Vaska is explaining to you what each flower symbolizes.

“So! Has anyone ever bought you flowers, dear customer?” asks Vaska, gazing at you curiously.

You blush and tuck your hair behind your ear. How do you explain to Vaska that no one has ever bought you flowers, whether as a gift or in general? The sound of the bell chiming alerts you and Vaska of new customers, only for you to realize it’s your friends and not random customers.

You clear your throat. “Oh, uh, no! No one has ever bought me flowers before, Vaska. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to look around!” You say.

Vaska smiles and nods, walking away to other customers that call her over for assistance. You sigh in relief and take Mr. Yang’s coat off, handing it to the brown-haired man while looking around the flower shop.

Sampo grabs your hand and presses a kiss on your knuckles. “May I be the first person to buy you flowers? A person as beautiful as you deserves to be spoiled with the prettiest and most vibrant flowers to exist in Belobog,” says Sampo, winking at you.

Dan Heng raises his eyebrows at Sampo. “Are you sure you’ll be able to buy every flower in the flower shop for [Y/N]?”

Gepard hums, crossing his arms over his chest while looking around the flower shop. “Flowers can be expensive depending on what type of flower you want and how you want them to be arranged,” Gepard interjects.

March raises her eyebrows at the Captain of the Silvermane Guards, propping her hands on her hips while leaning on one leg. “And how do you know that, Gepard?” March questions, tapping her foot on the ground while waiting for the blond man to reply.

Gepard goes quiet and looks at March sheepishly. If you were to look closely, you could see a faint blush on Gepard’s cheek. Gepard clears his throat, looking away from the pink-haired girl before continuing to admire the flowers in the flower shop. You chuckle and nudge March while she gives you a devious smile, wiggling her eyebrows at you teasingly. You roll your eyes and walk to the other side of the flower shop, admiring the beautiful flowers while taking occasional pictures of them.

A specific flower captures your attention. You let out an audible gasp in awe, admiring the beautiful flower. You’re contemplating buying yourself a flower to put in your room back on the Astral Express. You look at the Ball Peonies in front of you, admiring their beauty and color. Gosh, it’s so pretty! How can you not buy one for yourself? You lean down, searching for the price of the flower.

After what felt like ten minutes, you finally found the price tag. You reach for the label, flip it over and let out a choked gasp, dropping the price tag and letting it dangle. You know that flowers can get expensive, but not that expensive! Noticing your shock from afar, Vaska walks up to you and gazes at the Ball Peonies.

Vaska giggles and adjusts the flower. “The Ball Peonies are very expensive, but not as expensive as the Marquis! The Marquis is our most expensive flower,” says Vaska.

You give Vaska a fake smile, rubbing the back of your neck. “The Ball Peonies are beautiful! Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be able to buy these. Maybe in another lifetime,” you joke.

Vaska chuckles and walks away, shaking her head. You sigh for the umpteenth time and walk to another flower before pulling your phone out to scroll through your gallery. You begin sorting your pictures, putting them in different files. While you’re occupied with putting the group pictures in appropriate files, your phone chimes.

‘3 Attachments from March (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ’

You click on the notifications, waiting for the messages to load. Someone taps on your shoulders. You turn your phone off and turn around, only to see Gepard standing before you with Ball Peony in his hands, his cheeks and the tip of his ears crimson red. Your eyes widen, gazing at the blond man speechlessly.

Gepard clears his throat and looks away from you before holding the Ball Peony out toward you. “I saw you looking at the Ball Peony. I also saw how shocked and disappointed you were when you saw the price of it, and I didn’t want you to be disappointed,” says Gepard.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, making your face feel warm. “Gepard, you didn’t have to get me the Ball Peony. They’re expensive,” you whisper, gazing at the ground.

Gepard looks at you. You didn’t see the soft look Gepard had on his face while smiling at you shyly. Gepard clears his throat. “It doesn’t matter to me that they’re expensive. I wanted to see you happy, and…” Gepard trails off, “I wanted to be the first one to buy you flowers.”

Your face is aflame as you grab the flowers from Gepard’s hands, admiring the Ball Peony. You look up at Gepard, smiling widely before throwing your arms around Gepard’s shoulders, hugging him tightly. Caught off guard by your actions, Gepard stumbles back slightly while wrapping his arms around your waist with wide eyes. If Gepard’s face isn't red already, it’s probably almost as red as Himeko’s hair. March squeals softly, pulling her phone out while snapping multiple pictures of you and Gepard hugging from different angles.

Sampo huffs and looks away, flicking his bangs from his eyes. “I wanted to be the first one to buy [Y/N] flowers, but Mister Captain of the Silvermane Guards had to be the first one to do it!” Sampo grouses, his face pinching up with annoyance.

You pull away from the hug and thank Gepard shyly. Gepard smiles and brushes the stray hair away from your face. Your phone begins chiming over and over, ruining the sweet moment between you and Gepard. You give Gepard an apologetic smile before pulling your phone out from your pockets to see a ton of attachments from March.

You raise your eyebrows and look in March’s direction. March looks at you with a wide smile while holding her phone behind her back, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet while feigning innocence.

Dan Heng clears his throat. “So, now that you’re warmed up. Do you want to continue the tour around the Administrative District, or do you want to return to the Astral Express?” asks Dan Heng, approaching you and Gepard.

You hum, tapping on your chin with one hand. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle the cold. People here are used to the weather, but I’m not. I would like to return to the Astral Express, but I feel bad for wanting to leave so soon,” you say, looking over at Gepard and Sampo.

Sampo smiles at you and props his hands on Gepard’s shoulders. Gepard’s smile falters for a split second before giving Sampo a fake smile, brushing the merchant’s arm off his shoulders. Sampo clears his throat and adjusts himself.

Sampo ruffles your hair with a big smile. “Oh, come on! Don’t be sad now, Gumdrop! I know you’re going to miss the amazing Sampo Koski, but no need to worry! I, and maybe the Captain of the Silvermane Guard, will be accompanying you on the Astral Express heading to, uh, what’s that ship called again?” Sampo looks at Dan Heng, Caelus, Mr. Yang, and March with a questioning look.

Mr. Yang sighs, closing his eyes. “We’re heading to the Xianzhou Luofu next. General Jing Yuan wanted us to stop by and visit,” Mr. Yang answers, pushing his glasses up his nose bridge.

You nod, holding the Ball Peony close to your chest. The trip from Jarilo-V to the Xianzhou Luofu is going to take a while, and that means you can take a nap! But knowing March, she will try to find a way for you not to take a nap. According to her, you take too many naps. You dread leaving the flower shop because you’re going to get cold again, and you refuse to borrow anyone’s jacket because you feel bad if they let you borrow their jacket.

After what felt like ages, you all arrive at the Astral Express. Instead of borrowing someone’s jacket like last time, Dan Heng lets you share jackets with him. Of course, March took a picture of that and sent it to you and Dan Heng separately instead of sending the photo through the group chat.

You sigh in relief, stretching your arms in the air. The first thing you’re going to do is get a vase for the Ball Peony. After that, you go to your room and take a nap. Well, sneak off to take a nap because March is going to find a way to stop you from napping.

You scurry to find a vase for your Ball Peony, leaving the others in the Parlor Car. You end up finding the prettiest iridescent vase for the Ball Peony. You fill the vase with water and stick the Ball Peony into the vase, wondering if the Ball Peony is going to survive in a train that’s traversing through space.

You walk to the Passenger Cabin, holding the vase carefully, making sure not to spill any water. You weren’t sure where you were going to put the flowers, but you were debating on putting them close to the window or on your nightstand beside your bed. You opted for the nightstand and set it down in the center before plopping down on your bed and pulling your phone out to look at the messages March sent to you throughout the day in Belobog.

You save all of the pictures to your phone, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you slowly succumb to sleep. Your phone falls from your hands and lies beside you as you drift to sleep. You weren’t sure how long you fell asleep, but you’re rudely awoken by the sound of your phone buzzing uncontrollably and your bedroom door slamming open.

“Why did you burst into [Y/N]’s room like that? You know they were sleeping,” you hear Dan Heng scold someone.

You rub your eyes, tempted to go back to sleep.

March huffs loudly. “Oh, no, you don’t! Get up! We arrived at the Xianzhou Luofu! General Jing Yuan and the others are waiting for us at the entrance!” says March.

March walks up to your bed and yanks your blanket off your body. You groan, stretching in your bed while reaching around for your phone. You look at your phone to see three messages from three unknown numbers.

The first message reads, “Hello, [Y/N]. This is Jing Yuan! In case you’re wondering how I got your number, March informed me, Luocha, and Blade that you have a new phone. She gave us your number. I’m looking forward to seeing you soon!”

The second message is from, you’re assuming, Luocha. “Hello, [Y/N]! I hope you’ve been doing well since the last time we saw each other. March informed me that you got a phone, and Caelus sent me your phone number! If you ever need anything, please let me know, and I’ll try my best to help you. Also, this is Luocha.”

And finally, the last text you received on your phone is from Blade. “This is Blade. Are you still talking to the Aeon?” That was the only message Blade sent to you.

You blink at the message on your phone before unlocking it. You quickly type out a reply to all three men before getting off your bed, running your hands through your hair. You shove your phone into your pocket before following March and Dan Heng out of your bedroom.

You step out of the Astral Express, yawning for the umpteenth time within the span of five minutes. March nudges you, giving you a worried look. You shake your head as if telling her not to worry about it. After all, it’s not like it’s out of the ordinary for you to feel tired. You did arrive in their universe from another world. You’re still adjusting to everything. Plus, it’s not like there’s a timezone since you’re constantly going to different planets and fleets.

“And there they are,” Mr. Yang says, smiling at you, March, and Dan Heng.

Caelus snickers and looks at Dan Heng and March with an eyebrow raised. “Was it really that hard to wake [Y/N] up from their sleep?” asks Caelus, propping his hands on his waist.

March and Dan Heng glare at Caelus while you walk to the nearest bench on the Xianzhou Luofu and plop on it. Luocha sits beside you. You lay your head on Luocha’s shoulders, closing your eyes.

Luocha smiles and caresses your hair. “Did you not sleep well while on your way to the Xianzhou Luofu?” asks Luocha.

You shake your head. “I haven’t been sleeping well recently. I’m not sure if it’s because my body is trying to adjust to the constant change of environment or if it’s because….” you trailed off, opening your eyes.

Luocha peeks down at you, looking at you worriedly. “Because what?” Luocha murmurs.

You sit up and pull your phone out, mindlessly rubbing your thumb against the smooth screen. “I don’t know if I want to say it. I’m hoping it’s not true, but who knows,” you shrug your shoulders.

You have a theory that your lack of sleep could come from your and Nanook’s ways of communication. Nanook speaks to you in your dreams, and you’re very well aware that you’re dreaming. But are you really asleep when Nanook communicates with you through your dreams? Or is your physical body unconscious, but the mind isn’t?

Luocha leans back and gazes at you with his gorgeous green eyes. To Luocha, you do look visibly exhausted. If he were to look closely, you have bags under your eyes, and the little sparkle in your eyes is dim, almost nonexistent.

“It’s because of that Aeon, isn’t it?” asks Blade as he approaches you with Jing Yuan beside him.

You blink at Blade owlishly. It’s possible that it’s because of your communication with Nanook, but you didn’t want to make assumptions. Plus, prior to March and Dan Heng waking you up from your slumber, you didn’t see Nanook. In fact, you didn’t have a dream, nor were you in the very same void whenever you and Nanook communicated.

Blade chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. “You don’t have to answer my question. I have a feeling that your loss of sleep is due to your interaction with Nanook,” says Blade.

As much as you want to agree with Blade, you feel guilty for placing the blame for your lack of sleep on Nanook. All Nanook wanted to do was to see you and speak to you through your dreams because there was no way for Nanook to be there with you physically. Yet. Is it even possible for Nanook to be there with you physically outside of your dreams? Nanook is massive and covers the sun and sky.

You let out a long yawn and cover your mouth.

Someone chuckles. “Aw, it seems like the little one is tired. Aren’t you adorable?” the voice coos into your ears.

You stop mid-yawn and look around, searching for the source of the voice. Luocha, Blade, and Jing Yuan look at you worriedly as you whip your head around to look for the voice of the person.

“[Y/N]? Are you alright?” asks Jing Yuan, kneeling before you. “You look startled.”

You stop looking around. You clear your throat, nodding before resting your head on Luocha’s shoulders, sighing. You realize the voice is coming from inside of your head and that it’s most likely Nanook. If the voice inside your head is Nanook, you’re going to be speaking to the Aeon about it when you’re asleep. Nanook can’t pop in and out of your mind so suddenly without scaring you like that.

“So, March has given you guys my number. She didn’t inform me about it, but I did wake up to a series of text messages other than March slamming my bedroom door open,” you chuckle.

Luocha stands up from the bench and squats in front of you, gesturing for you to get on his back. You blink at the blond man before getting on his back, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Luocha stands straight and adjusts you on his back before walking over to where the others are standing, with Blade and Jing Yuan walking beside him. You tighten your grip around Luocha’s neck and rest your head on his shoulders, closing your eyes.

“I was going to say that I was hoping our texting you didn’t disturb your slumber, but you already told us that you woke up to your phone chiming,” Luocha sighs, tightening his grip on your thighs.

You hum, snuggling against Luocha’s back. “It’s fine, really. I would rather wake up to text messages from you guys than March storming into my bedroom to wake me up. She said I take way too many naps,” you chuckle.

“I can hold your phone for you if you’d like. I worry you might drop your phone while holding onto Luocha,” Jing Yuan comments, reaching for your phone. “We wouldn’t want you to break your new phone, now, would we?” Jing Yuan asks, raising his eyebrows at you while poking your cheek.

You hand Jing Yuan your phone, continuing to hold onto the blond man. Blade peeks at your phone and takes it from Jing Yuan’s hands, tapping on the screen to see a group picture of you and the Astral Express crew smiling at the camera. It’s a cute picture. But when Blade unlocked your phone (your password was predictable), a picture of you with Sampo and Gepard was the background for your home screen.

“Who took these pictures?” asks Blade, holding your phone up to your face.

You squint and look at the home screen background. “March took the pictures! She’s my unofficial official photographer.”

Blade hums and begins scrolling through your gallery, narrowing his eyes at each photo that wasn’t a group picture. Most pictures look candid, while others look like it was taken without your knowledge. Especially the images of you sleeping in the indigo-haired man’s arms. Your phone buzzes, and a notification appears at the top of the screen.

‘1 Attachment from March (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ’

Blade clicks on the notification without thinking, and it takes him to the messages between you and March. The attachment was a picture of you getting a piggyback ride from Luocha. The photo was taken a few seconds ago. Blade looks up from your phone and makes eye contact with the pink-haired girl. March’s eyes widen, and she gives Blade a sheepish smile, hiding her phone behind her back while trying to act casual. Blade hands the phone back to Jing Yuan.

Jing Yuan huffs with amusement. “If you don’t mind, would you perhaps take pictures with us as well? I see you’ve been taking pictures with your traveling companions and friends from places you stop by,” says Jing Yuan.

You nod. “Of course we can! We can find a good place to take a picture. We need to let the others know about it first. After all, March is my unofficial official photographer!” you reply.

When you, Luocha, Blade, and Jing Yuan approach the group, the others give you a questioning look while March has her hands crossed over her chest while staring at you. You give March a sheepish look and wave at her from behind Luocha. Mr. Yang walks up to you and hands you an Immortal’s Delight, causing you to perk up and grab the drink from his hands after saying ‘thank you.’

Luocha squats down, and you get off his back, sipping on the sugary drink. You’re really hoping the drink will keep you up for a little bit before returning to the Astral Express and calling it a day. You tapped March’s shoulders and informed her about wanting to take pictures with Jing Yuan, Blade, and Luocha. You and March were trying to think of places to take photos with the help of Dan Heng and Caelus giving suggestions. Sampo and Gepard walk up to Blade, Luocha, and Jing Yuan, eyeing the three men from head to toe. Blade raises his eyebrows, sizing the two men up.

Blade points at Sampo. “What’s your association with [Y/N]?” Blade asks. “You seem quite close with [Y/N]. Do they mean anything to you by any chance?”

Jing Yuan laughs and pats Blade’s shoulders before giving Sampo and Gepard an apologetic smile. “I apologize for Blade suddenly interrogating you about your association with [Y/N]. While we have met a few times, we’re curious about your relationship with [Y/N],” says Jing Yuan. “Well, Blade is more direct about it. As you can see.”

Gepard and Sampo look at one another, staring at the three men in silence. Were they supposed to tell the three strange men their association with you? If those three men (specifically Blade) are curious about it, they will talk to you about it.

Luocha interjects, getting between the four tense men. “Gentlemen! Let’s save this conversation for later, shall we? I believe [Y/N] has picked out a place for the pictures,” says Luocha, laughing nervously while gesturing over in your direction. Luocha turns to look at Gepard and Sampo, bowing to the two men. “I apologize if they’re causing any hostile environment. I hope we can all get along.”

Jing Yuan blinks at Luocha, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not the one that’s creating a hostile environment. I believe it’s this one over here,” Jing Yuan says, gesturing toward Blade.

You and your traveling companions walk to where the five men are standing. In your hands, you’re holding two more Immortal’s Delight. The men raise their eyebrows at you while Sampo points at the sugary drinks in your hands.

“Picture time! We have decided to take a picture in this one area of Central Starskiff Haven! Close to where they sell Immortals Delight!” You say, waving the drinks around before taking a sip from one of the cups.

Blade stares at you and then at the cup in your hands. “You’re not going to buy any more of those drinks, are you?” Blade asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You pursed your lips and slowly walked away. “I can’t promise you anything! If you want to start blaming someone, blame someone that introduced me to Immortals Delight,” you said.

Upon arriving at the Central Starskriff Haven, you, Blade, Jing Yuan, and Luocha stand beside each other in front of the railing. Well, Luocha, Jing Yuan, and Blade are standing beside each other while you stand in front of the three men. March begins taking many pictures of you and the three men on your phone.

In the middle of the photo shoot (is it even a photoshoot?), Blade takes your Immortal’s Delight and begins drinking it. You turn to look at Blade with your mouth agape. The dark-haired man looks away from you and continues slurping the sugary drink without care. Your face pinches up with irritation before chasing Blade around Luocha and Jing Yuan. Jing Yuan and Luocha chuckle and try to get the two of you to stop before causing any more issues.

“This is perfect! It captures their dynamic perfectly!” March says, continuing to snap many pictures of what’s happening.

Jing Yuan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Blade, give [Y/N] back their drink. It’s rude to drink something that doesn’t belong to you,” Jing Yuan chides.

“Yeah, Blade! Don’t be a jerk and give me back my drink!” You say, glaring at the dark-haired man and stopping in your tracks, placing your hands on your knees and panting. “If you make me chase for that drink, I will make you pay for it.”

“Oh? And how are you going to make me pay for it exactly?” Blade asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You hold your hand out in front of you. Blade stares at you before holding your hand. You stare at your hands in Blade’s grasp. You drop his hands and huff. Luocha chuckles, giving Blade a teasing smile.

“It seems like you don’t understand what [Y/N] is implying. They want you to give them credit for the Immortal’s Delight, not you holding their hand,” Luocha interjects. “One drink costs about 3600 credits per drink. It is a bit pricey for one drink.”

Blade stares at Luocha with disbelief before handing you back your Immortal’s Delight. Your eyes light up, and you stick your tongue out at Blade before turning to look at your traveling companions standing across from you. You nearly drop your drink when you realize how many people had their phones out.

“Don’t mind us! We’re making sure we get good angles!” says March, holding both your and her phone up while continuing to take pictures of you and the three men.

Unbeknownst to you, the men before you took many pictures of you chasing the Stellaron Hunter. They made sure not to include the three men in the pictures because they were focused on capturing the moments when your eyes light up when Blade returns your drink. Who knew that the brightest star in the universe has tiny specks of stars in their eyes when they’re happy.

Note: This fic is almost 10k words, and I'm surprised because I didn't think I could type this much with little to no sleep 💀 Since my finals are in three days, I will be posting mini-fics for the Genshin series and for the HSR series! I also realized that I had forgotten about Luka. Hopefully, I can post him in the next upcoming fic. Since I don't know much about him, I'll have to wing it. Also, if there are any errors, that is because I did type the fic half-asleep and while sleep-deprived 🥲 Taglist should be coming soon after finals week! Also, please look at an important note regarding posting works that are "inspired" by the fics I have posted [Important Notice]! To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

#Honkai Star Rail x reader #Honkai Star Rail imagine #Honkai Star rail fanfiction #Honkai Star Rail fanfic #HSR x reader #HSR imagine #HSR fanfiction #HSR fanfic #Dan Heng x reader #Gepard Landau x reader #Sampo Koski x reader #Welt Yang x reader #Blade x reader #Jing Yuan x reader #Luocha x reader #Caelus x reader #Nanook x reader #genshinluvr

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wolfjackle-creates · 5 months

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Answer My Call Chapter 2 Part 2

Happy WIP Wednesday! So last week, we had a tie between Bring Me Home and Answer My Call. The tie breaker didn't come in until Monday after I'd already finished the entire Bring Me Home chapter and half the Answer My Call one.

So y'all will be getting two fic upates today then I'm going to sleep. I'm tired after a full day of work with a call out. XP

If you want a say in next week's update, vote in the poll!

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

Chapter 1: AO3 (user locked), Tumblr

Chapter 2: Part 1

Word Count: 1.3k

-----

After the performances—an odd mix where the main band yielded the stage to a poet or an accordionist when they needed a break—Jazz and Todd continued to mingle.

Jazz waited until about fifteen minutes had passed before reaching into her bag to search for her phone. “Todd!” she cried.

“Jazz? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find my phone! Shit, what time is it?”

Todd pulled out his. “Eleven fifty. Did you have it when we arrived?”

“I don’t know! I haven’t checked it. Where could it have gone?”

One of the other attendees broke into the conversation. “Lost your phone? What does it look like? We can help you look.” She was a woman in her forties or fifties. Next to her was another woman who nodded her agreement.

“Thank you, that’d be great.” It didn’t take much effort to bring tears to her eyes—all she had to do was remember that Danny was still missing. “It’s a Samsung in an unfortunately standard black case. The lock screen has picture of and my brother. My name’s Jazz, by the way. And this is Todd.”

“I’m Mel and this is my wife Jayden. I’m sure we’ll find your phone soon enough.” Then, in a voice loud enough to cut through the chatter, “Oi! Anyone see an unattended phone lying around? Jazz here misplaced hers?”

Even Mel, though, had to admit defeat after half an hour of searching through the entire apartment yielded nothing.

Jazz sat down on the floor and let herself cry. “And by now we’ve missed the last train. I’m sorry, Todd. What a disaster.”

“Hey, no. None of that, now. Tonight’s been a blast. This sucks for sure, but I can get us an uber or something—”

“How far are you kids going?” asked Jayden.

“Too far,” cried Jazz. “I live out of the city. Parked at Alewife and took the red line in.”

Jayden winced. “Well, we parked nearby. Is there somewhere close we can drive you?”

Jazz blinked up at them. “You’d do that?” She turned to Todd. “I just want to go to sleep. Is there a motel nearby we could stay at?”

Todd pulled out his phone and searched. “Looks like there’s a Holiday inn just down the street or a La Quinta that’s a little cheaper just a bit further out.” He smiled ruefully at the women who’d been helping them. “If you could get us to either place, we’d be more than grateful.”

One of the residents, an older man named Rob, took a seat next to them. “Hey, kiddo. What’s your email? We can contact you if anyone finds it.”

Jazz smiled at him gratefully and gave it. If it wasn’t so necessary, she’d feel bad for lying to and worrying all these people. But they were in so much danger. To the women, she said, “Would the La Quinta be too far out of the way? If I end up having to get a new phone, I’d like to save as much money as possible. Thank God I still have my wallet.”

“Sweetie, it’s totally fine,” assured Mel. “We’d take you all the way home if we didn’t live on the opposite side of the city.”

“Thank you, but that’s really okay. I just want to go to bed and worry about it tomorrow.”

“Come on, dear.” Mel reached out a hand to help Jazz up. “Let’s get you cleaned up then we’ll be on our way.”

Jazz thanked Rob for his help before Mel led her towards the bathroom with an arm around her shoulder.

Less than forty minutes later, Todd and Jazz were alone in a hotel room together. She pulled the blinds shut and finally let herself relax.

When she turned back to the room, Todd was looking at her with one eyebrow raised. “Want to explain to me what all of”—he threw out his hands—“that was about?”

Jazz glared back at him. “You didn’t tell me you died! Damn it, if I’d known in advance—!” she cut herself off and took a deep breath. “Never mind. What’s done is done.”

Todd was deadly still. “How do you know that?”

Jazz threw her hands in the air. “It’s obvious to anyone who knows how to tell. Including the Guys in White who I told you are dangerous to ghosts and liminals! I had plans for what I’d say when they found us, but those won’t work if you’re dead!”

“Wait.” Todd held up his hands. “You’re saying I can be persecuted under those Anti-Ecto acts?”

“Yes! You’re more ghostly than me, and I am watched every minute of every day.”

Todd narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a moment before asking, “Have you heard of Lazarus Water or had any dealings with the League of Assassins?”

“No! I have no idea what you’re talking about. Quit changing the subject. My brother is the only thing that matters and you and Red Robin promised to help me find him.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Jason’s eyes flashed green, and Jazz glared right back at him. “The League of Assassins are the ones who brought me back to life with Lazarus Water. I need to know if you and your brother are mixed up with them because that would change our approach. If it’s a rogue government agency, that’s one thing. If it’s also the league, we’ve got a whole set of other problems.”

Jazz sat down heavily on one of the bed. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t— It’s been a long few months. After a long few years.”

Todd sat down across from her and nodded for her to continue. “Tell me what happened.”

“It started three years ago. My parents, they’re ghost hunters. Been building weapons to detect and hunt ghosts since before I was born. But three years ago is when they finally finished their life’s work: the ghost portal. Only it didn’t work at first. Then my brother Danny and his friends decided to be stupid. They went to check it out. I wasn’t there and the three of them don’t talk about it, but something happened down there that day.

“My brother died and the portal was working. Only, he didn’t die all the way. He became half-ghost, half-human. And that would have been bad enough, but with the portal open, ghosts came through from the Infinite Realms, sometimes called the Ghost Zone by humans. Some were benign, but many of them came to cause problems or hurt people. Danny stopped them.”

Todd held up a hand to stop her. “Your brother became a supehero? How didn’t the Justice League hear about this? How old was he?”

Jazz shrugged. “I don’t know about the Justice League. It could be that no one ever contacted them. It could be they didn’t believe us. And it could be that no one cared. Danny felt responsible though, since it was his fault the portal turned on. And he was the only one with the ability to stop the ghosts, so…” She held up her hands in a what-can-you-do gesture.

Todd closed his eyes and let out a careful breath. “I can guarantee you the JL didn’t know about your town. A fourteen-year-old would never have been left alone to monitor an interdimensional portal if we had.”

Jazz had no idea what she thought of that. Danny had done it all alone. So finding out he could have had help? She shook her head. What-ifs were a waste of time. “Well, he did. But the government didn’t like that a ghost was the main defense against ghosts. So the Ghost Investigation Ward, more commonly called the Guys in White or GIW was formed. At first, they were as incompetent as any other ghost hunter. But they didn’t stay that way.”

“What happened to your brother, Jazz?” asked Todd.

-----

Sorry to end it there. But it's the right length and I need to go to bed. XP

Hope you enjoy!

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want notifications when I update.

Not much to say about this one. When I went to the event at this location, my friend and I very nearly missed the last train. It was pulling into the station as we entered. If we'd been 2 or 3 minutes later, we would've been stranded so far from my car, I don't even want to know what that uber or cab would've cost.

Luckily Jazz and Jason had a few good Samaritans nearby.

Next up: We learn more about what happened to Danny!

#dpxdc #answer my call #wrong number au #jazz fenton #jason todd #eventual anger management ship #emotions are running high #and jazz is Stressed™️#but they can finally talk #and be safe about it

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star-wrote · 1 year

Text

nsfw alphabet : daryl dixon

ao3 link

character: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

a/n: recently became obsessed with this man. there aren’t enough nsfw alphabets of him so enjoy :)

(not my gif or character)

A- aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

daryl thinks the aftercare is the best part of it all. it took a while to break down the habit of him just rolling over and falling asleep, but he got there eventually. he holds you and makes sure you're okay, cleaning you up if necessary. he lets you curl up into him, wanting to feel your warm breath on his skin. you listen to each other’s heartbeats, and drift into an exhausted sleep.

B- body part (their favorite part of both of your bodies)

daryl dixon loves every part of you. he doesn’t say that his favorite are your tits or ass, that’s something merle would say, and it just doesn’t sit right with him. instead, he thinks that your eyes are his favorite part of you. he likes that he can communicate with you just through the looks you give each other. he loves that he has to ask you to keep them open and look at him when he's making you feel too good to do so.

your favorite part of daryl are his thighs. big, strong, and sturdy; the perfect seat. his thigh can fit perfectly between your legs, holding your hips with his giant hands. his hands. you suppose that they could also be your favorite.

C- cum (anything to do with it)

since it’s the apocalypse, you and daryl decide that it’s better to be safe and not cum inside you. even though it takes every ounce of his control not to. he opts for pulling out and humming on your stomach instead. but you better prepare for when he finds condoms on a run because he will fuck you like it’s your last time together. which, hey, it could be.

D- dirty secret (self explanatory)

other than wanting to cum inside you, daryl really wants to fuck you alone in the woods, up against a tree. he knows it’s not very practical, especially with the dead walking around. he just can’t help but thinking how hot it would be for you to try and be quiet as not to draw in any walkers.

E- experience (do they know what they’re doing)

most of daryl’s experience came from random drunk hookups that merle pressured him into before the world ended. it involved dramatic moans from the women, and daryl being too stuck in his head to remember anything else. he was open to you teaching him what felt good, and picked up on it fast. as a hunter, he has always been observant, and that doesn’t leave when it comes to your pleasure. he watched every expression, and hears every hitch in your breath to learn what makes you feel good. he asks if you're liking it, which sounds like sinful dirty talk to you.

F- favorite position (self explanatory)

it started out being doggie style, because he just couldn't bear for you to look at him or his scars. but with some gentle begging from you, he decided that he couldn't bear for you to not look at him. missionary is now his favorite, because he can still control the situation, and see the pleasure in your eyes at the same time.

G- goofy (how serious are they)

daryl is obviously very serious when it comes to the outside world, which doesn’t really change when it comes to the bedroom. since you managed to relax him and get him comfortable enough around you to break his walls down, he lets little laughs and smiles come through at your jokes, but not without jokingly telling you to stop.

H- hair grooming habits (how much hair do they have down there)

it is the apocalypse, so grooming isn’t necessarily the most important. the carpet matches the drapes. plus he doesn’t expect you to shave, so why should he? in fact, when you did shave one time, he freaked out and begged you to never do it again(unless you wanted to of course), which warranted a sigh of relief from you. he says that only bitches eat shaved pussy.

I- intimacy (romantic or rough/dirty)

it was always hard for daryl to bring out his romantic side, but he tries so hard for you. he grunts out praises and a little “love ya s’much” when he cums, letting you know that you’re the only one on his mind.

J- jack off (how often do they masturbate)

literally never. it isn’t very convenient, and he never really has a high sex drive. when he does get turned on, it’s because you’re right there. no point in taking care of it himself when you're in front of him.

K- kinks (self explanatory)

daryl never got a chance to explore his kinky side before the apocalypse since most of his experience was with women who he didn’t trust or love. when he started to trust you in the bedroom(or where the apocalypse allows), you both started to experiment with what you are into.

-size kink: he loves when you look so small compared to him

-daddy kink: this one felt weird to him at first since you were younger than him, but he couldn’t help the twitch in his dick when you called him that while you were cumming (it is definitely used more after that)

L- location (where they like to get it on)

anywhere that is safe and gives you time to explore each others bodies is his favorite. still, the idea of fucking you in the woods sounds hot to him...

M- motivation (what turns them on)

anytime he sees you taking down walkers, or just overall being badass, he gets a little turned on. also when you look at him with your big doe eyes, he has to control himself from taking you in front of everyone.

N- no (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

daryl isn't into hurting you in any way, especially because of what he went through in his childhood. he sees it as somehow becoming like his father, and that is something that he hates. so big no on hurting you, even if he does think you're pretty when you cry.

O- oral (do they prefer receiving or giving)

one of daryl’s favorite sights is you on your knees for him, with tears streaming down your face as you try and fit all of him in your mouth. however, that sight can't compare to how you look when he’s between your thighs. he thinks he must've died and gone to heaven when he sees your breasts rising and falling with each deep breath. the little tugs on his hair and the praise from your lips makes him decide that he loves going down on you more than anything.

P- pace (do they prefer fast or slow)

when he’s had a long day or just wants to get some anger out, he wants to go fast and rough. usually he goes slow and deep, just to feel all of you for as long as he can.

Q- quickie (do they like them)

quickies have become a must in some cases, especially if you don't have much time because you're on a run, or you have to get a round in before the group wakes up. he always makes sure to make every time you're together special, no matter how short.

R- risk (do they like to try new things)

he’s never been a risky guy, but if you suggested something to try, he would consider. as long as he knows you're safe, he is down for anything.

S- stamina (how many times and how long each round)

even though he’s older than you, his stamina is immaculate. even if he’s tired, he knows how to make you cum enough to tire you out.

T- toys (do they like using them)

since most things gathered on runs get checked, toys aren't really a priority. if you’re with him on a run, you two might find one and use it, but you don't dare bring it home with you. daryl likes to pleasure you by himself anyway.

U- unfair (how often do they tease)

such a tease. when he’s feeling especially cocky, he likes to have complete control over you, which includes controlling your orgasm. he will edge you for what feels like an eternity, just because he loves hearing your pretty voice beg all pathetically.

V- volume (how loud are they)

he adapted to being very quiet because most of the time you were together were around the group, or outside where walkers could hear. his grunts, moans, and dirty talk start coming through when the group finds safety, or when you are on runs in a safer place. he definitely starts going on runs with you just to fuck you and hear your moans.

W- wild card (anything random)

daryl had never been one for talking, but when his dick is deep inside your wet pussy, he can’t help but spout the dirty thoughts that come to his mind. whether it’s praise, degradation, or the occasional swear, he knows it works you up from how you whimper and clench around him.

X- x-ray (what’s going on down there)

long and thick, a couple of prominent veins, and a slight upward curve. this man walks like he has a big dick.

Y- yearning (sex-drive level)

very very low before he met you, but now he wants to fuck you every night if able.

Z- zzz (how fast do they fall asleep)

maybe it was his body adapting to living on the run, or never getting good sleep as a kid, but daryl takes ages to fall asleep. having your body next to him helps, and he starts to feel safe enough to let his guard down and sleep. however, he does wrap a protective arm around you just in case <3

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon twd #twd #daryl dixon hot #daryl dixon x reader

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

Text

Memories of Innocence

Synopsis: Astarion sees snippets of his own past through the reverie.

Tags: comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs, reverie, Astarion's memories

Alethaine's age: 3 days

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The newborn girl squeals demanding to be held and fed.

Astarion leans on the cradle where three-day-old Alethaine cries loudly stretching her arms and legs.

“So, what is it now?” Astarion smiles while taking a thick blanket to wrap around his daughter. He can’t allow her to feel cold—unfortunately, his vampire body isn’t really warm. “Your mother has just gone to sleep.”

Tiriel has been exhausted—first, labor and then a newborn who needs all her attention and also requires her body to survive. Astarion sees a weird irony in the fact that he first fed on Tiriel’s blood and now Alethaine feeds on Tiriel’s milk.

Astarion has been enjoying being a father so far. He loves being with the newborn all the time when Tiriel is asleep—and waking her up only for breastfeeding. He even likes the dirty side of having a child, and he is surprised at himself that it doesn’t annoy him.

It’s his child. His baby daughter.

Elves are so infertile every child is a blessing, and since the process is almost painless (well at least it’s a painless process for an elven mother—Astarion will never forget Tiriel’s cries). Usually, the birth of elves is welcomed by the whole community, and every member of said community wants to hold the newborn. And elves remember that moment even if their whole childhood is forgotten.

Alethaine was welcomed to the world only by her parents and a halfling midwife. Will she remember her mother touching her ears, so different from her own? Or Astarion’s ugly crying?

Is she even an elf, after all, Astarion wonders.

Alethaine squeals again and Astarion carries her to the next room where, behind a shut door, Tiriel is fast asleep.

“Tiriel, love, I hate to wake you up, but she wants to eat.” Astarion enters the room and sits at the edge of the wooden bed.

Tiriel sighs, still half asleep, and takes Alethaine in her arms. Astarion is mesmerized by how Tiriel tugs the collar of her shirt freeing the swollen breast and puts Alethaine in front of it. How a nipple disappears in the baby’s mouth and how her ears start twitching with every suckling movement.

It’s the nineteenth time Astarion has seen it.

And he wants to remember every one of these sessions.

“Are you tired?” Tiriel asks. Her eyes are half-open. “And when was the last time you ate?”

“My sweet, I can spend a few days without meditating and eating. I am a vampire-elf, after all,” he chuckles, but the next moment he realizes he actually wouldn’t mind to trance a bit.

Tiriel yawns. “Give me a couple of hours and I will take care of her,” Tiriel stretches her left hand to play with Astarion’s hair.

He closes his eyes concentrating on her touch.

Sometimes he thinks that’s all an illusion. A cruel trick of his mind. He is still locked in the dungeon, or worse, buried alive in a tomb. But he opens his eyes and sees his beloved feeding their newborn child.

And they are both real.

“Do you think she is normal?” Astarion asks. “I mean… I don’t mind if she is a dhampir, not at all! But do you think she is a mortal like you?”

“Honestly as far as I'm concerned her current species is ‘baby’", Tiriel sounds exhausted. “I think we will know, sooner or later.”

Astarion leans to kiss Tiriel. She answers him with the same passion she has had for the last twenty years.

He breaks up the kiss and pecks Tiriel’s cheek.

“A couple more hours, all right?” she whispers.

Astarion nods and then picks up the blanket.

“Astarion, I understand it’s winter and she is a newborn, but don’t you think it’s too warm?” Tiril notices as Astarion wraps the baby.

“I am as cold as a dead man,” Astarion says. “I don’t want her to suffer in my hands.”

Tiriel nods as if suddenly remembering Astarion is a vampire. “If she falls asleep and you need to reverie, come to me. I suffer without your hands on me,” she smiles adjusting the shirt.

Astarion places the baby into the cradle in the other room. Alethaine stares at him with her eyes wide open.

“I am very lucky,” he mutters. “You don’t understand it, but I am very lucky” he adds in elven.

He is lucky he was outside during the nauthiloid attack. He is lucky he was so paralyzed with fear he didn’t try to run away. He is lucky that the mindflayer, the Emperor, decided Tiriel could somehow benefit from carrying a tadpole in her head.

He is lucky Tiriel didn’t push him away.

He is lucky they both survived.

Astarion doesn’t believe in destiny, but it has been such a wild sequence of events leading to him standing in this nursery he finds it all unreal.

He notices stains on his once-white shirt, takes it off, and tosses it to the same pile of dirty fabric on the floor. Astarion will wash all these nappies and clothes later and, no, he isn’t going to let Tiriel do that.

Astarion sits on the floor, pressing his back against the wall. It seems like he can meditate to recover a bit. The last time he managed to do so was a few days earlier and it was interrupted by Tiriel’s muffled cry as she was pressing her hands to the belly.

Alethaine starts squealing. Her little face is red and her toothless mouth is wide open.

“What is it now?” Astarion asks. It may be the first time he is really tired of hearing her screams. “You are fed and still pretty clean.”

Alethaine squeals again.

Astarion picks up the blanket to take the baby in his arms, but the moment the fur touches her she yells even louder.

“What do you want, Alethaine? You don't like the blanket? Too bad, I can’t hold you without it!”

Another scream. Gods, how is it even possible for such a small child to make such loud noises?!

“My hands are cold, princess. You won't like them. I am not warm like your mother.”

The girl stretches her arms to him. Astarion feels a wave of desperation—it’s just unfair to think about it. His life was taken away from him, his youth, his childhood memories, his family, and even his past lives, if elves are right about reincarnation.

And now he can’t even hold his own daughter.

“Princess, I am going to take you but don’t complain,” he lifts her tiny body and puts Alethaine on his own bare chest. “See? I am as cold as the grave I’ve dug myself out of.”

Alethaine stops crying.

Astarion stares at her in disbelief as the newborn buries her little face in his cold skin.

Alethaine smiles.

Astarion carefully sits back on the floor and takes the blanket to wrap himself. Alethaine is blissful and he concentrates on her heartbeat and breathing.

She is so warm.

“You… wanted me to hold you,” he whispers. “Without blankets or anything else?”

Astarion sniffs. This little bundle in his arms makes him…normal. What is more normal in this world than a father holding his newborn child? He was forced to do the most atrocious things, he had to crawl back from his own grave, and his body was used in the most disgusting ways…

And yet he is here.

In his own home far away from the Sword Coast. With the most amazing woman in the next room. With their child.

Alethaine is so delicate, so innocent… So small.

“Well, it seems like you are finally asleep. Do you mind if I meditate?” He smiles, touching her baby hair.

He closes his eyes and lets the flow take him.

Astarion drifts in complete darkness. No, not this. Not the memories of being buried. He tries to run away from those memories but can’t. It's only a dream, he reminds himself. Whatever horrors he is going to witness it’s all in the past.

But why is it so dark?

Why does he feel so helpless?

He is still aware of his real surroundings and the tiny bundle in his own hands—but the weird memory takes a grip on his mind and he questions if he should have put Alethaine back in her bed.

The darkness shifts to light. Astarion can’t see anyone but he knows there are people around him. Quiet murmurs in elven reach to his ears forcing him to let out a cry.

Then a pair of hands take him and he hears a loud heartbeat. Long silver hair brushes his head and he sees the face of a tired elven woman whose smile is exhausted yet happy.

Tiriel looked similar three days ago.

“My little star,” the woman whispers to him.

The memory fades away. No more years to witness, no more light. Only darkness, misery, and cold—until he ends up in Tiriel’s arms that promise him safety and warmth.

“And you were afraid she wouldn’t want to be held by you.” He hears Tiriel’s voice as she kneels beside them, “I will take her, all right?”

Astarion, still half in his trance, lets her take the baby and Alethaine makes a disgruntled sound. “Oh, so now you like your dad more than me!” Tiriel laughs. “Was it all right? Your reverie?”

Astarion finally returns to reality. Tiriel asks him that question any time she witnesses him waking up. Unless it’s obvious he’s seen something really bad and ends up crying in pain.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t?”

“I think I saw my mother,” Astarion finally confesses. “She was holding me like you are holding Alethaine right now.”

“Oh?” Tiriel touches his cheek. “I thought you didn’t remember anything”

“I still don’t. It’s like a glimpse.”

Tiriel tugs him, helping Astarion to stand up. “Do you think she is still alive? Your mother?”

“It doesn’t matter. I am a vampire, no one would want to have a vampire son.”

Tiriel nods—she knows when to stop asking. She knows when he feels uncomfortable and uneasy and never pushes his boundaries. And if she does, it’s by sheer accident.

“It’s already dark outside,” she notices. “You need to eat”

Hunger is too painful. Gods, he wishes he could feed on Tiriel—but they agreed he would return to his habits once she stops breastfeeding.

“If you go into the woods, kill something I can eat, too,” she asks. “I am fucking starving.”

“Of course,” Astarion puts on his winter shirt. “It seems like I am leaving the house as a father for the first time. I will be back soon, love,” he kisses her lips, and the moment he pulls away Tiriel points at their daughter. Astarion carefully plants a kiss on her forehead.

The winter night meets him with howling winds and piercing cold. Astarion is on a hunt, he is going to let his predatory nature take the lead once he is in the woods. He needs a lot of blood to compensate for the few days he spent with his wife and daughter, and when he returns to them his body will be temporarily hot.

Maybe it’s for the best that those who mattered to him when he was mortal think he is dead. There are three Astarions—a forever lost soul from Baldur’s Gate, a tortured spawn, and a free elf who fears nothing and no one, who has a home, who has people to love. It doesn’t matter what happened before he woke up on that spelljammer.

Only what happens next.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids @ednaaa-04 @dajeong

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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months

Text

ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter two

ain't no rest for the wicked series

two: trouble will find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

words: 6.9k

summary: After weeks of nothing, you finally hear from Tess and Joel again.

warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, bittersweet ending/no happily ever after, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, degradation, face slapping, pussy slapping, spanking, stalking, canon-typical violence, threesome, cum eating, light rope bondage, shower sex

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Weeks go by, and nothing weird happens. You can’t say you aren’t disappointed, but they didn’t say it was going to be a repeat thing. They definitely implied it, sure, but you could be cool about it.

So you had the best orgasms of your life with two of the most unhinged people you’ve ever met. Who needs hinges, anyway? And why do people say unhinged?

Wait, does it mean open? Like they’re unhinged because they have no door? Because, in that case, they’re two of the most hinged people you’ve ever met.

God, you miss when you could ask Google. Or Yahoo. Or Jeeves. Man, the internet was so cool. You bet your fucking Neopets are dead.

By the time you circle back and decide that you’re pretty sure unhinged does not mean open, you’ve autopiloted home.

You turn the key until it clicks and push open the door to your flat. At first glance, there’s no explanation for the way the world seems tilted just so.

Except for the little folded scrap of paper on your shitty rusted table. When you pick it up, something garishly yellow flutters to the ground.

It’s unmistakably a sunflower petal. It’s winter. Where the fuck—

No. Nope. You do not want to follow that thought; you want to let it fuck right off.

You rub the petal between your fingers. It’s so sinfully soft, there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s real.

The paper just says “tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow what? Tomorrow when?

When you open your cabinet to grab a can of soup, the first can you pick up rattles. It also doesn’t have a lid, so. There’s that.

You groan out loud. If you don’t look and just put it back, will it disappear into the other dimension from where it came?

In the end, you peek anyway, and yep. Sunflower seeds. Baked and salted, from the smell.

The implications are unsettling. In their minds, are you cannibalizing yourself at their whim? Are you consuming yourself in a pursuit of pleasure?

Are you really fucking overthinking it?

Tomorrow. For cripes sake. There’s no way you sleep tonight.

Except once you’ve had your soup and nibbled away at most of the sunflower seeds, your full belly lures you into the quiet of the night.

You’re nearly as jittery at work as you were the first time. Granted, you’re a little less afraid of them and more anxiously excited, but the thought of them sends your leg bouncing.

Your chair squeaks the whole time.

“Hey Sam,” you say as casually as possible to your deskmate.

“What?” He says warily.

“Do you know where I could get a horseshoe?”

“A… what?”

“A horseshoe, you know, like horses wear.”

“A singular horseshoe? Do I even want to ask why?”

“Yeah, just one. And no, probably not? Let’s say I’m just really into country chic decor right now.”

Sam turns back away from you.

Typical.

You’re getting ready to leave when you realize you don’t actually remember their address. You’re pretty sure you could find the right building since you walked yourself home, but there’s an uncomfortably large margin of error.

Also, the stupid note didn’t give a time. Should you go home first? Maybe they’ve broken in again to leave a little clue?

You’re saved from figuring it out when you find Joel in exactly the same place as before. You don’t startle this time—you’d peeked around the corner on purpose.

“Hi,” you say, fingers wrapping around your backpack straps.

“Hi.” It’s brusque and he’s scowling, doesn’t even look at you.

“I-I could have walked over. I don’t wanna inconvenience—“

“You’re not. I don’t want you walkin’ by yourself.”

“Ok.” You kind of wish Tess was there. You like Joel fine, but she’s at least a little more talkative. Even if everything out of her mouth throws you off center.

Actually, this is probably fine. Maybe you’ll still have your wits about you when you get there.

He keeps a little distance ahead. Not enough to lose you in the crowd but enough that it almost looks like you aren’t following him. Like he doesn’t want to be seen with you.

You don’t have hurt feelings. It’s fine. People might think he was cheating on Tess, you get it.

Whatever the fuck they were doing with you was certainly not cheating.

Tess is already in the kitchen when you get there. Joel hovers in the living room until you head in, like he thinks maybe you’ll snoop through the apartment if he doesn’t keep watch.

You’re not that stupid. That’s a fucking death wish.

She’s cleaning a pan. Joel grumbles at her about leaving it for him, and she rolls her eyes while he pulls out your chair.

You remember this, at least, and manage not to make a fool out of yourself.

Tess dries her hands and sits down across from you. “Hey, sunflower. You miss us?”

You burn up immediately, wishing it were literal. It’s like she knows you’ve had fingers stuffed up your cunt every night, remembering how they felt. How you buried your face in the pillow and wished it was the soft folds of her.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry, we missed you too. We’ll show you how much later.”

Joel sets hot plates down in front of you both, followed by glasses of water, before he takes his own seat.

You wonder if this is a special production or if they’re letting you see their natural domesticity.

If you thought dinner last time was a delicacy, nothing could have prepared you for this.

The slab of meat is unmistakably pork and rests on a bed of baked apple slices beside yellow squash and pale zucchini rounds.

You look up from your plate with wide eyes.

“Best not to ask,” Joel says.

You nod. This time, you go slow, savoring each bite. It can’t be real, you think. It can’t really be yours.

But they let you eat everything on your plate. No one snatches it away or scolds you for touching something you don’t deserve. Tess seems downright pleased when you set your fork down for the last time.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You finally blurt.

Tess quirks an eyebrow. “Thought we made ourselves clear last time. When you’re here, you’re ours.”

“And we take care of what’s ours,” Joel says. When you snap your head to look at him, his eyes are dark and narrowed. Like he’s angry at the insinuation that they wouldn’t.

“O-okay,” you say, fixing your gaze back on your plate.

He stands up and clears the dishes, piling them in the sink.

Tess takes you by the hand and leads you out of the room. You expect her to stop at the couch again, but she takes you into what must be their shared bedroom.

Joel shuts the door behind him when he comes in. The room is warm and dark, the winter sun having retreated for the day already.

They don’t give you a moment to work yourself up. Tess is already kissing you as she walks you back to the bed. Instead of pushing you into it like you expect, she tugs you to a stop when your knees run into the mattress.

Her mouth moves down your neck as she easily discards your clothes. You shrink a little, and she tugs on your hair, forcing your head back so you look her in the eye.

“No being shy, now,” she warns. “S’ours to look at anyway.”

She peels your arms away from where they had instinctually folded across your breasts. Moving to one side, she smirks at Joel.

“Look at your little pet, baby. Ain’t she pretty?”

His hand brushes the curve of your breast, barely making contact but drawing a shiver from you anyway. “Sure is. A real sight for sore eyes.” His thumb finds your nipple, and you moan, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He pinches it, smirking when you gasp.

“You look like you got a plan,” he says to Tess.

“You want two cunts to fuck today, baby?” She says.

You can almost see the switch flip in his brain. “Yes, please, ma’am,” he says.

She presses a much chaster kiss to your lips before patting the mattress. “Hop up, sunflower. On your back, head right here.”

Once you’re situated, she tucks a pillow under your head and climbs on top of you, settling her cunt right where you need it. When you try to touch her, though, Joel stops you, catching your wrists.

“Keep ‘em by your sides, or I’ll tie ‘em down.”

Tess laughs, dragging a finger through your folds. “I think she wants you to, baby.”

He crouches down by your head. “S’that so?”

You look at him from where you’re trying to reach Tess with your mouth, but she’s lifted her hips just a little too high. You whine.

“Yes, sir.”

His grin is otherworldly, all sharp teeth and shadow. “Attagirl,” he says, patting your cheek.

His hands are gentle but competent as he binds each wrist to the bed, stretched out to the posts of the footboard. Tess sits on your face while he works, letting you overstimulate yourself between her wet cunt and his control.

Once you’re secure, she leans forward and flicks her tongue over your clit, pulling a gasp that deepens into a drawn-out moan as she continues.

You whine when she lifts her hips back up just too far for you to lick inside her. Joel grabs your hair and holds you in place, dipping his cock into your mouth.

“Get it nice and wet for her, sunflower.”

You try your very hardest to give him the sloppiest blowjob you can while being held still.

When he pulls out, he presses his balls to your mouth, and you respond with soft licks as he notches his tip at the slick entrance of Tess’s cunt.

“Lick her,” he grunts, resisting the urge to plunge in all the way.

You’re on fire. This has to be, hands down, the filthiest thing you’ve ever done, but he props the pillow up more so you don’t have to strain your neck when you lick down his cock to where he’s splitting her open.

She moans into your pussy.

He holds you there, with your tongue flat against where he pushes in deeper. When he’s buried, you flick your tongue to his balls and back.

“Suck them,” he pants, and you obey, stretching your mouth around him.

He starts to thrust gently, not wanting to jostle himself against your teeth, but he loses patience eventually and yanks you off to shove you to her clit.

You’re squirming as she works you over, three fingers deep, stretching you to get you ready for Joel. You suck and lick at her clit as she cums, meaning to lick her through it and keep going for another.

But Joel tugs you back to lick where she leaks around him.

You’re glad he tied you down. It’s all so much, almost too much, and you don’t think you could have held still. The rope’s embrace holds the last shred of your sanity.

At some point, you started whimpering against them, pleading as best you can without pulling your mouth away.

“Aw, you wanna cum?” she mocks with an affected simper.

“No,” Joel grunts, his hips snapping hard against her. “Only way she's coming tonight is on my cock.”

You sob a little bit, and she pulls back to slap your aching clit. Your hips buck, and you nearly lose the fight.

“Oh, she fuckin’ loved that, baby,” she tells him.

“‘Course she did, she’s a fuckin’ slut for us.” He says.

You moan. You think you should probably care that they’re talking about you like this. Actually, you do care. You care a lot. It’s so fucking hot.

“You’re just our little whore, sunflower?” he says.

You nod minutely with Tess’s clit pinched between your lips, and she cums again, her slick rubbing on your face with each stroke of his dick.

“Alright,” she says, tapping his hand where it grips her hip.

He pulls out and unties your wrists. Tess lets you keep lapping at her for a minute, but when you’re free, she slides off you and sprawls, languid and satisfied.

He gives you a light slap on the cheek. “Trade places.”

You sit up and lay on your stomach to the side to let Tess move to where you had been. But first, she rolls to face you and pulls you in for a deep, slow kiss.

You go to tangle your fingers in her hair, but she catches your wrist, rubbing her thumb over the ridges left behind.

“That’s enough,” Joel growls, yanking you by the ankle.

Tess laughs. “Don’t wanna be left out, baby?”

“Wanna get my fuckin’ dick back in one of ya,” he says.

She gets situated with her head down at the end of the bed and tugs at you to climb over her. You waste no time diving back into her cunt until Joel smacks you hard on the ass.

“Did I tell you to start up?”

“No, sir,” you say, voice breaking a little with desperation and a little shame.

He slaps the other side of your ass for good measure. Unlike the way he eased into Tess, he doesn’t wait to push into you.

You’re so grateful for Tess stretching you out before. His cock feels impossible. You cry out into her bush.

Your wriggle, and she holds you still with a powerful grip on your hips, licking at your clit while he shoves forward.

“That’s right. Shit,” he slaps your ass again when you squirm. “Hold still and fucking take it, girl.”

Your cries are muffled, but you’re not protesting. It’s just so fucking much.

Tess distracts you from the sting and pinch of him by gently biting your clit, which hurts a hell of a lot more but also makes you a hell of a lot wetter, ultimately easing his passage. Enough so that he slams the rest of the way in.

Your mind whites out when he starts pounding into you. Tess shifts to lick at where you’re broken open on him, and your fists tighten in the sheets.

“Please,” you whine, breaking away from her cunt only long enough to beg.

“What d’you think, baby? She been good enough for you tonight?”

He rubs his hand over the side of your thigh and hums. You hold your breath. You’re pretty sure he’s just teasing you, but it’s a fucking struggle not to cum.

“Yeah, she’s been a real good girl,” he says. “Go on, sunflower, cum on my fucking cock.”

It hurts. It hurts where you clamp down around him. It hurts where Tess is relentless against your clit. But it’s maybe the hardest you’ve ever come—you’re pretty sure you blacked out.

When the world filters back in around you, you’re laying with your head on her, giving pathetic little kitten licks to her clit. Joel’s fucking you down into her, and when he sees that you’re semi-present, he shoves your head back into her folds.

“Again,” he snarls, and your body listens. Spasms. Falls apart again.

Vaguely, you’re aware of him begging Tess and desperately asking where he’s allowed to come. Whatever they decide, he pulls out abruptly. She slips out from under you and yanks you onto your back, swinging a leg over your hip to grind against you.

You reach for her with limp arms, and she finally, finally lets you cup her breasts as Joel tugs his aching cock and warm cum splatters across your face, tits, and arms.

You don’t even hear him walk away, but he comes back a minute later with a warm, damp towel to find you scooping some of his cum into your mouth. He groans, cock twitching.

“You gotta stop that, sunflower, or I’m gonna need that mouth again.”

You look up at him with wide eyes and part your lips.

He fists his cock and looks at Tess. She’s dozing off already but nods. He cleans her first, gently wiping away incidental splatter and residue of her own pleasure from her thighs.

You wait patiently with your mouth open and he rewards you by easing gently into your throat. He’s fully hard again now.

He fills your throat easier at this angle. Well, easier for him.

“Breathe,” he says, gripping the back of your head. “That’s it, sunflower, just breathe. You’re takin’ it so well.”

He helps himself to handfuls of your breasts, rubbing and tugging at your nipples while he chases his second orgasm.

“Cum with me. Show me what a fuckin’ cumslut you are,” he grunts between thrusts.

Tess leans over close to you. “Don’t swallow, sunflower.”

He pulls out a little right as he cums to let it pool in your mouth. It’s a fucking struggle as you let your own orgasm roll over you. When he pulls out, Tess pulls you in for a kiss and shares in his spend.

Again, the fucking filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You’re not sure how you managed it, but you’re not going to voice a single damn doubt, not going to risk whatever this is.

He finally cleans you off and putters around the room, tossing the towel in a hamper and tugging his clothes back on.

“I’m followin’ her home,” he murmurs to Tess while you’re in the bathroom.

She sits up. “What happened?”

“Tell ya more when I get back. But her place is too close to the boundary, and I caught a little tip-off when I was waiting to pick her up.”

Tess frowns but by the time you come out, dressed and refreshed, they’re lounging on the bed.

“C’mere,” Tess says before you can speak or move for the door. She tugs you down to the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good,” you say automatically. You’re not actually sure. Everything’s a little fuzzy; the world wrapped in a cotton ball. You may or may not be shaking a little.

“You sure you’re okay to get home safe?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes are heavy, though, and the way her nails are tracing swirls up and down your arm is making you woozy.

You must have dozed a little because Joel’s coming back in the room and you didn’t know he ever left.

He hands you a mug of tea and sets a plate on the bed beside you.

“Gotta eat something. Y’look like ya might faint on your way,” he says at your crinkled face.

You sip from the tea and close your eyes as the warmth and sweetness crawl through you. “Thank you,” you say.

Tess has you leaning against her still, and you stay that way while you eat the sandwich Joel made. As it dwindles, your awareness of the situation grows stiff and uncomfortable.

You sit up. “Thank you, but um. I better get going.” You’re only a little dizzy when you stand up.

Joel takes the dishes out of your hands. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Yep,” you lie. “So, um. Have a good night.” It feels stilted, after what you’ve all just shared, but what else do you say to your two-time hookups? You skedaddle before it can get weirder.

You would have said yes this time, you think, if he had offered to walk you home again.

It’s only a week later when there’s a knock at your door.

There’s never a knock at your door. No one visits; there’s no one to visit.

You stare at the door for a minute, sitting on your bed eating room-temperature peas out of a can with your only spoon. The noise had startled you, and now you’re going to have to launch a search and rescue mission.

It knocks again. Well. Not it, you suppose, not the door. Whoever is on the other side.

You stand up, spoon hanging from your mouth, and open it with the chain still latched.

“Y’ain’t even gonna ask who it is?” Joel snaps.

You shut it and remove the chain, opening it all the way to reveal his scowl.

“Hi,” you say through clenched teeth where they hold onto the spoon. You’ve got one hand on the door and the other on your can of peas.

“You don’t even have a peephole. What’re you doing, just opening the door for strangers?”

“You’re not a stranger.” You’ve stuck the spoon into the remaining peas so you can speak clearly.

“You didn’t know it was me.”

You step back to let him in, eyeing him as he steps through the doorway.

He narrows his eyes at you. “What? I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No,” you say, not at all suspiciously, and cringe internally when your eyes can’t help but dart up and then back to him.

He turns and looks above the door where you’ve nailed a blue plastic horseshoe. Despite his apprehension, Sam had actually found one—leftover from some children’s game.

Though now you were wondering if it was less about the horseshoe shape and more about the properties of a ferried shoe. Maybe intent? Maybe the metal? Maybe it had to have been worn by a horse? You had never really listened to your grandmama. She was just a crazy old lady.

Or at least, you thought she was. But now there are mushroom zombies, so. Who knows.

Joel looks back at you with an eyebrow raised. “Doing some decorating?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, trying not to feel embarrassed. Then you remember that Joel being here is the weird part of this situation. You refuse to feel weirder than that.

“So, um,” you start.

He steps closer and tucks his fingers under your chin, thumb brushing over your cheek. It’s impressive how little it takes now for your brain to shut up.

“Hi,” you squeak.

“Y’said that already, sunflower.” He takes the can from you and sets it on the counter.

“Right,” you say, feeling a little ensnared by his gaze. “You have really pretty eyes.”

To your surprise, he blushes a little. His eyes go wide and his lips part. Instead of a response, he hides his reaction by kissing you so you’re too close to see the pink of his cheeks.

He turns you so he can press you against the door, licking into your mouth and pressing a thigh between your legs. It turns hungry very quickly, and you moan, spurring him on to slide his hands up your shirt.

“Not that I—“ you try, but he doesn’t let up. “Ah—hang on,” you turn your face.

He takes it as an invitation to nip and suck on your neck. You’re still distracted, but at least you can attempt to string together a sentence.

“Not that I mind,” a gasp draws out the words, “but why-yyy are you here?”

“Wanted your advice on interior design,” he says, jerking his head to the horseshoe, “but I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Oh, shut up,” you try to say, but he’s latched back on to the sensitive area near your shoulder that has you abandoning your train of thought.

“Need you,” he says against your skin before he breaks away to tug your shirt over your head.

You can’t argue with that. Well, you could, but why would you want to when he’s got his hands and mouth on your breasts?

He grabs and pins your wrists above your head in one hand. The other pinches at whichever nipple isn’t currently in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp.

He smirks around his mouthful before biting down so you cry out. His fingers find the seam of your leggings, stroking over to feel you squirm.

“Please,” you whimper.

He slaps your breast. “You wanna try that again?”

“Please, sir.”

“Down.”

You sink to your knees, but he doesn’t pull his cock out right away. Instead, he cups your cheek in his hand, watching closely as your eyes flutter shut and you lean against his hand.

“You still okay with all this?” he says, immovable gruffness betrayed by a hint of genuine concern.

You nod against his hand.

He draws his hand back, and a whine from you. It’s cut off by a sharp, but clearly restrained, slap. “Words, princess.”

“Yes, sir.” It caught you off guard, but you find you like the faint sting and heat of it.

“Yeah? Even that?”

He seems serious, no hint of a smirk or glint to his eye, so you pause to consider.

“I liked it,” you decide. “Felt nice. Made me want to please you.”

Now he grins and slaps you again. It’s not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to make you gasp.

The heat spreads through you, and your mouth falls open, eyes following his hand as it drags away from your face to grasp his length through his pants.

“See what you’ve done?” He grips your chin tight with his other hand. “Gonna take care of that for me?”

“Please, sir.”

He pops the button open on his jeans and drags the zipper down unbearably slowly. You whine, and his fingers dig into your jaw.

“Be good,” he says. He draws his cock out and gives himself a few strokes just an inch from your mouth.

You look up at him and stick your tongue out. You want to whine, but you’re afraid if you’re not good, he’ll just fuck his hand.

He releases your chin. “Go on,” he says.

You kiss the sticky tip, licking the residue from your lips before taking his cock into your mouth. You moan in tandem, and his hand finds purchase on the back of your head.

“This place is kind of a shithole,” he says, looking around your tiny cube of a home.

“Gee, tha—“

He doesn’t let you finish, shoving you back down on his cock.

He fucks into you for a while, enjoying the way you moan around him when his dick bruises the back of your throat.

When he yanks you back suddenly, you gasp for air but try to get your mouth back around him.

“No, stop,” he says. “I don’t wanna cum yet. Want your cunt.”

You whine, and he almost caves, looking at the pure hunger with which you’re regarding his swollen, angry cock.

“I said no,” he says instead, jerking your head a little.

“Sorry, sir,” you say with a sigh.

He looks over your shoulder. “Y’ain’t even got a fuckin’ bed.”

You follow his gaze to your perfectly fine mattress. “I do so!”

“That ain’t a bed, sunflower. That’s a mattress with no box or frame.”

“Wait, hang on, haven’t you been here already?”

“Nah, that was Tess who stopped by.”

“That’s a funny way to say broke in.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You complainin’?”

You look up at the horseshoe for a moment. “Nah, I guess not.”

He looks at it, too, and back to you. “I don’t wanna know. You got a shower?”

“You hate my bed that much?”

“No, I’ve been shovelin’ ash all day. M’not gonna fuck you like this, just need to rinse off.” He should have gone home first, he knows, but going back to an empty apartment just compounds his anxiety. He took a hard labor job on purpose, hoping it would distract him from the tightness in his chest.

It’s not that he doesn’t know Tess can handle herself. He just hates it when she goes alone for a deal.

“Yeah, okay,” you say. Before you move the towel away from the bathroom door, you stomp hard a couple of times and then wait a moment before opening it.

He decides not to ask.

“C’mon,” he says, tugging you by the hand into the tiny bathroom. At least you have a combination tub, so it won’t be too tight of a squeeze.

You start the shower for him and dig around in the cabinet for a clean towel. He reaches past you and grabs another.

“Wh—I got you one,” you protest.

“Y’ain’t gettin’ in with me?”

Oh. “Oh,” you say. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“But do you want to?” he asks, suddenly very close, backing you up against the sink. His hand lingers at the side of your throat.

“Uh-huh,” you nod.

“Then get in,” he says, tugging you away from the counter and giving a smack to your ass.

You yelp and strip down as he does the same. But he stops halfway through shucking off his pants after looking at the tile where his shirt landed.

“Do you eat in here?”

“What? No.”

“There are crumbs all over the floor.”

“Oh, those’re for Estella and Georgie.”

“I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Probably not.” You pause. “On second thought, you should. They’re mice. Please don’t hurt them.”

“Estella and Georgie are mice.”

“Yeah.”

“From outside.”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. His exasperation does not, you’d like to point out, stop him from stepping into the shower behind you.

His body cages you in, wrapping himself around you from behind. He rests his chin on your shoulder for a moment while his hands dance down each rib and over your stomach. They slide back up to your breasts, crossed to hold you against his chest while he gropes you.

You arch a little, as much as you can in his iron grip, and revel in the press of his hard cock against your ass. He groans when you roll your hips against it. You whine when he releases you, and he swats at your thigh.

“Let me get clean,” he scolds. “That was the whole point of this.”

Still, he can’t resist lathering your tits with his soapy hands and drinking the moans from your lips.

“I thought you were gonna fuck me,” you whine.

His fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze just so, sending sparks down your spine.

“I thought you were gonna be my good little girl,” he growls in your ear.

You whimper, involuntarily grinding back against him. “I want to. Please, I want to be—”

“What? Say it, baby.”

“I wanna be good,” you say.

His hand tightens until you squeak a little. “No, no, baby. Say, ‘I want to be your good little girl, sir.’”

You’re burning up. You can’t even blame the shower, because even the hottest water you get isn’t that hot. You whisper it back.

He eases up on your throat. “Can’t hear ya. Speak up.”

“I want to be your good little girl!” you blurt. “Um. Sir.”

He chuckles, dark and low, and the breath sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. “Yeah? You want to be my good girl and take my cock?” His hand slides down, almost where you need it, but he stops short of parting your lips, the tip of his finger brushing gently.

“Please,” you whine.

His middle finger dips in just enough to graze your clit. “I don’t think you want it bad enough.”

You grind back against him; a frustrated sob lodged in your throat. It slips free when he rubs a slow, gentle circle. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.”

You cry out when he pulls his hand away, but it’s only so he can push you up against the wall, hand between your shoulder blades to bend you forward. You brace yourself on the chilly cheap plastic.

He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock against your slippery cunt. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem like you really want to get fucked.”

“But I’m so wet,” you protest.

“We’re in the shower, sunflower, ‘course you’re wet.”

You’re rapidly losing your grip on your sanity and also the wall, so you reach back and grab his hips, shoving yourself onto his cock. You’re not stretched enough to take it all, not even with your momentum, but the fat head of him pushes into you.

You and Joel gasp in unison, his hands tightening where they hold you, fingernails digging in. You moan, bringing your hands back to the wall as he pushes forward, voice breaking into a keen as he splits you.

He groans and grinds in deeper. “What a greedy fucking slut,” he says, having regained his senses. “Couldn’t wait, huh? You need it that bad?”

“Uh-huh,” you pant between thrusts.

“Alright,” he says, and then he stops. He holds still, buried balls-deep.

“No,” you sob.

“What?” He cracks a hand across your ass, grinning when you moan. “You want it that bad? Go ahead. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

You do. You rock yourself on it, trying to chase your pleasure on him. He grabs a fistful of your hair, to which you sputter a protest. You’d been careful so far not to get it wet.

“You got something to say?” He spanks you again. “Spit it out.”

But you’ve already forgotten about your hair, because no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to get the angle right. Your orgasm lies far out of reach.

You whine instead. “Please fuck me.”

“What’s the matter? You’re the one who helped yourself to my cock. Now ya don’t know what to do with it?”

You think you might actually cry. No, yep, tears are stinging in the corners of your eyes. You look back at him over your shoulder and hope you look pathetic enough for him to take mercy.

“Aw, baby, look at you,” he croons. “Shouldn’t have been so greedy, huh?”

“M’sorry,” you say. “M’sorry, sir, I promise I’ll be good.”

“You better,” he says, and then finally, finally shoves roughly into you.

The pace he sets meticulously takes you apart. His cock batters at you, his tight grip on your body unrelenting as he takes and takes and takes.

“So much better now, huh?” he says.

“Yes—oh fuck, s-so much. Thank you, sir.”

“Attagirl,” he moans. “Touch yourself, baby.”

You’re quick to obey, longing for his thick, calloused fingers.

But he knows that already. “See? Ya just can’t do it right yourself. Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

You’re nodding before he’s done talking. He wrenches your hand away and reaches down to pinch your clit.

“Now,” he growls. It’s a good thing, too, because you were already starting to fall apart.

He fucks you through it, and another, and another. Between the contrast of the warm water and cold wall, the brutal slap of his hips against your ass, and the dizzying pleasure, you feel fuzzy around the edges.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans. “Kneel.”

He steps back just enough to let you turn and drop to your knees. The water ricochets off his back as he plunges into your waiting mouth, and you swallow him down.

When he eases out, you’re soaked from the spray.

“Think we need to clean up again?” you say.

“Nah, why bother? I ain’t done with you yet.”

“What?” you gasp.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. Dry off and go lay on that sad little thing you call a bed for me, alright?”

It’s actually easier for him this way, he tells you with a smirk. “Ain’t gotta worry about my knees.” He’s lowered himself to the floor, with your ass perched on the end of the mattress.

Practically lounging, he’s spread your thighs to carve a space for himself, holding you as he takes his sweet time. For a goddamn eternity, all he does is kiss and bite your thighs, with the occasional soft lick to your folds. But he doesn’t dip in, doesn’t seek out your pleasure.

No, it’s very clear that this is for him. Which is not to say he doesn’t want you to feel good; he very much does. But tonight, he has the luxury of time and a comfortable angle to do whatever the fuck he wants.

You’re shaking, legs trembling, when his tongue finally nudges inside, just a quick flit of his tongue into your cunt before he drags it up to your clit.

“Please,” you sob, much like you have been. But this time, it’s different. He can tell from the way you’re squirming and clenching down.

“Give it to me,” he growls into you, and sucks at your clit until you come.

It feels like hours. There’s no way it can be, really, but he works you over again and again until you can’t take it anymore. You’re crying, real tears sliding down the sides of your face, and your hips move of their own accord in an attempt to escape.

He doesn’t let you out of it that easy. His hand comes down against your cunt before you realize he let go of your leg. And fuck, it feels good, but also, you might be dying?

“Can’t, I can’t,” you whine.

“You sure? I think you got one more in ya.”

“Fuck,” you sob.

He eases up a little, fucking you with his tongue while his fingers rub gently around your clit. When you cum, you have to bite your fist not to scream. He holds you down with a strong arm across your hips as you buck and struggle.

But he backs off as soon as you’re coming down. “Attagirl, that’s it. So good for me,” he murmurs, climbing up onto the mattress beside you.

He rolls you over into his arms and kisses your forehead, nose, and lips. “Such a good girl, takin’ everything I wanted.”

You’re limp. You think maybe he’s one of those vampires. What did they call them? Energy vampires? Or are you thinking of some kind of demon?

Anyway, you think he drained your life force out of your cunt. You can’t keep your eyes open, and your limbs are heavy. You’re sleepin’ with the fishes, you think, and giggle a little.

“You okay?” he says.

“Mhm, m’just so sleepy,” you mumble. Even your lips feel too heavy to move.

“I gotcha, sunflower; you can sleep.” He kisses your forehead again and tugs your comforter up around you both.

There’s a knock on your door for the second time in twelve hours. That’s more than the last twelve months.

You startle awake and yank the sheet up to your neck, but relax a little when you see Joel. He’s already hefted himself up and approached the door.

The knock comes again, but this time you notice there’s a pattern to it.

“Who is it?” he says anyway.

“Just me,” Tess says.

Joel unlatches the locks and lets her in.

“Thought I might find you here,” she says, low and quiet.

“You okay?” he says.

“Yeah, but I need your help with some cleanup. How’s she?”

“Good,” you whisper.

Tess does a double take. “Thought you were sleeping, sunflower.”

“Was, but people keep banging my door down today.” You yawn and for some reason, reach your arms up.

She obliges your sleepy plea, coming close enough to bend down and kiss you. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree. But something falls in your spine, something sad and heavy and taboo.

“I gotta go back out. Meet me downstairs,” she says to Joel, who’s getting his filthy clothes back on. She gives you a kiss on the forehead. “Be a good girl and go back to sleep.”

You hum your agreement and lay back down against your pillow.

Joel crouches down by the mattress. “Sorry, sunflower, we gotta get goin’,” he says, giving your cheek a brief caress.

The disappointment is there and gone so fast, he thinks maybe he imagined it. Maybe he just wanted to see it.

But it was real, much to your displeasure. You didn’t want them to think you were getting greedy, that you felt any entitlement to their time.

“Okay.”

“Need ya to lock up behind us.”

“Just turn the thingy before you close the door,” you mumble, trying to spare your poor feet the pain of the frigid floor.

The look he levels you is nothing short of furious. “You tryin’ to be funny?”

“No?”

“That flimsy little joke ain’t gonna protect you. Your hinges are too weak; anyone could kick that in. At least the deadbolt and chain would buy you a minute.”

“It’s cold,” you whine. But you know he’s right. After all, Tess got in and out without causing any damage. Hang on, though. What was that about weak hinges?

Does that make you… unhinged? You laugh out loud at your joke. Your daddy always said it was a good thing you thought you were funny, ‘cause no one else would.

He ignores it and yanks the blanket off you.

“Hey!”

“You can have it back when you get up.”

“Mean.”

“You think this is mean? I’m fixin’ to put you over my knee and change your little attitude.”

Your eyes go wide, and there’s a tell-tale heart(beat) buried beneath your panties. “You wouldn’t.”

“You damn well know I would.”

You swallow hard around the sudden ache in your throat where his cock should be.

You get up and shuffle over to him. “Alright, quit yer bitchin’. I’m here, and I will lock all the locks.”

He wraps the blanket around your shoulders. “Good girl,” he says and presses a brief kiss to your forehead. Before you even register it, he’s gone, door clacking shut behind him.

You lock all the locks and climb back in bed, but sleep doesn’t find you again.

next chapter

*title from "Trouble is a Friend" by Lenka

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #tess servopoulos x reader x joel miller #tess x reader #tess x joel #joel miller x tess servopoulos #joel miller x reader x tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x you #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopolous x joel miller x you #tlou smut #tlou fics #the last of us fics #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #fic: ain't no rest for the wicked

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mayajadewrites · 25 days

Text

could've been you - shouta aizawa, keigo takami

✦ synopsis: You're the new teacher at UA with a rocky past with one of their beloved teachers, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead. You'd rather never see him again but alas, such is life. You also meet Keigo, aka Hawks, who is the opposite of Aizawa. Smiley, golden retriever energy.

✦ chapter content warnings: angst hehe

✦ relationships: aizawa x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader

ao3

TAG LIST:

@come-away-with-me87, @kxshdoll, @evilsanzu, @friendly-neighborhood-turtle, @lili-pond,

@the-unhinged-raccoon @falling4fandoms @cherry-cosmoz @kkgraham @big-denki-energy @aphrodite-xoxo @keiweeny @minminroie

chapter nine

Your heart starts to race.

The space where Keigo once was is now empty. His duffle bag - gone. You stand up so quick you almost fall over.

You check your phone. No text.

2:45 AM.

You press his contact and call 1, 2, 3, then 10 times.

No answer.

Tears well up in your eyes as you accept this fate - that Keigo snuck out. Left you.

You tried climbing back into bed but you can't sleep.

You put your softed robe on and pad to Aizawa's door. It's late, sure, but he's probably awake.

And you still don't have his number so this is how you communicate.

You knock on the door as quietly as you can, careful not to wake up anyone else on your floor.

After a few knocks, the door opens.

Aizawa rubs his eye before finally looking at you. He can tell you've been crying.

"What happened?" He grabbed you by your shoulders and brought you into his place.

You didn't answer - you couldn't. How could you explain that you just let a man fuck you and he left?

"Please talk to me." Aizawa's voice was soft now as he set next to you on the couch.

"Keigo left." You sniffle.

"Left? Left to where? What do you mean?"

"We had sex, fell asleep and then he left. He didn't leave a note or anything! I called, no answer."

Aizawa's eyebrows almost reached the top of his forehead. "He didn't say goodbye? No explanation?"

"No. His bag is gone. He's gone."

Shouta's face was full of anger. You observed his body language - he was tense.

But then he held you. No words were exchanged. His body heat was against yours as his body mended into yours.

His hair was pulled back into a low bun - your favorite. He pulled you on top of him so your back was on his chest.

You took a deep breath as his arms tightened around you, almost like a weighted blanket. He kissed the top of your head as your eyes started to feel heavy.

"I'm sorry, Shouta." You murmured as your eyes began to close.

"For what?" His calloused hand caressed the soft skin on your cheek.

You mouth parted as a quiet snore left your lips.

When you woke up the next morning, you were in a bed.

Not your bed.

Your face is buried in a large, soft pillow with a dark gray pillowcase. The blankets are shades of gray and black, the fabric so soft against your skin.

You heard the sizzling of oil in a pan, along with soft music playing through the apartment.

"Good morning." You emerged from the bedroom, watching Shouta cook breakfast. "Hope I didn't wake you."

He was shirtless, his hair up again, flipping a pancake with a spatula.

You shook your head as you yawned, padding towards the kitchen. Shouta half-smiled as you approached him. He wanted to kiss you so bad. He wanted to take you on the counter, pulling your hair as he watched your ass cheeks jiggle against his cock.

"You didn't." You looked down at your robe that you were still wearing. "I'm gonna grab clothes from my place quick, I don't want to wear this robe anymore."

"You can wear something of mine." Shouta walked to his room, opening a drawer with crewnecks folded perfectly, then another drawer with sweatpants.

He handed you the clothing, your nose instantly recognizing the scent of Shouta.

"I'll leave you to it." He turned around and went back to cooking.

As you changed into his clothes you couldn't help but notice the feeling in your stomach. Butterflies fluttering.

A feeling you haven't really felt with Keigo. Especially with the shit he pulled.

Speaking of Keigo, you checked your phone to see if he text you.

You had 40 missed calls from him, 55 texts.

Why even bother reading them? He left you with no communication. It takes 4 seconds to say goodbye.

You make Shouta's bed for him, laying the pillows nicely along the headboard. You left your phone on his nightstand to join him in the kitchen.

Shouta served you your breakfast with an iced coffee - he remembered from when you were observing his class how you liked it.

"Thank you." You dug your fork into your pancakes, letting the sweet taste hit your tongue. "I didn't take you for a cook, Eraser."

"I'm full of surprises." He smirked, his half lidded eyes finding yours.

You heard a hand banging on a door a couple doors down from Shouta.

Your room.

Both you and Shouta walk to the door, him opening it as his body rested against your back.

And there you saw a peek of red feathers.

"Leave." You stepped out of the doorway. "You took all your stuff already, so you're free to go."

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you, that was a mistake. I-"

"She said to leave." Shouta emerged from the doorway, standing behind you again. "You didn't have the decency to say goodbye, it's embarrassing that you even try to show your face here again."

"I was on call, there was an attack, I had to-"

"All of which I would have understood if you used your words and told me. You may be a grown man but you act like a child." You press your back to Shouta's muscular chest for comfort. "Only an absolute asshole fucks someone and dips in the middle of the night. That will be the last time you're ever inside of me." You turned on your heel to walk back into Shouta's place.

"Baby bird, I-"

"She was pretty clear on what she wanted. If I see you here again, you will have hell to pay."

After a few minutes, Keigo left. You heard his heavy footsteps walk out of the building, then he took flight into the air. You watched from the window, but he didn't look back.

"Stupid fucking bird." Shouta sucked his teeth as he took a sip of his coffee. "You're gonna stay with me today. He's probably gonna try to come back later."

You didn't bother to argue. "Okay."

It really bothered Shouta that Keigo left you at such a vulnerable time. It's scary giving yourself to someone and then they leave. It fucks with the psyche.

"You know, I never got your number." You looked at Shouta as he cleaned the kitchen.

"Because you told me I was never getting yours."

"Well, I changed my mind." You crossed your awms over your chest.

"Hm, what makes you think I want your number?"

"Come on, Eraser." You grab his muscular arm, wrapping both of your arms around it. "You know you can't resist me."

"Tch." He rolled his eyes, but still smiled. "You just like my place more than yours."

"It's cozy, unlike you. You have these hard muscles that are terrible to lay on." You looked up at him with your doe, Disney princess eyes.

"They're good for other things." He smirked as he picked you up by your waist, sitting you on the counter.

You can't help but smile as he cages your hips with his forearms, his chocolate eyes boring into yours.

"You're cute from up here." You tuck a piece of his hair behind your ear.

"You're cute in my clothes." Shouta's thumb traced circles on your plush thigh. "Your ass looks way better in them than mine does."

You playfully slap his arm, hooking your ankles together to pull him closer to you.

The feeling of Shouta being so close to you makes your stomach flip with a mixture of butterflies and anxiety.

It was so easy to kiss Keigo, but you're more excited when you're around Shouta.

You were expecting him to go in for a kiss, but instead he rubbed his nose on yours, interlacing his fingers around your ass.

It was an intimate moment. No pressure, no fear of him leaving.

Your memories with Shouta begin to flood your mind, how he betrayed you. How he didn't listen to you. How he assisted in putting you in a coma.

Can the past truly stay in the past? Can you look beyond what was done?

You sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, letting your body fall into him.

You will try.

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

Text

No More Series Masterlist

How long does it take for you to finally snap? Must you teach Ghost how to trust you, even with you being together for a year and a half?

It’s getting harder for you to make him see that he can trust you, with the nightmares coming back and a mission on the horizon that is something you could not come back from. Even if he says he trusts you, could you ever learn to believe him?

Posted on Ao3!

Chapter One - Winner Takes It All

You’ve been with Ghost for a year and a half - you allowed him into things you kept safe guarded, and realized that he has never done the same for you. OR, you feel as if Ghost has never trusted you, even though you have always trusted him fully.

Chapter Two - Wishful Drinking

He’s convinced he should leave. He’s convinced himself that you are better off without him, better alone than being hurt by a shell of a man like him. He barely got a foot out of the door before he changed his mind. OR, Simon spends nine weeks dissecting Simon from Ghost to reflect on his actions.

Chapter Three - Remnants of a Whiskey Lullaby

It takes time heal a wound that big. Alejandro and Soap are big oafs, you have unwanted conversations in person and in text, one with Keegan and one with your elusive best friend back home. OR, your best friend bothers you and you find something at home.

Chapter Four - Fear And Loathing

You really thought that sleep would do you good. You also thought that if you kept to yourself and did your job, Ghost would trust you more. Unfortunately, you take three steps back. Soap and Gaz are your therapy people, Cerby tries to help and Ghost tries his best to understand you. Includes nightmares and flashbacks. OR, something considerably relationship fracturing happens and you’re ashamed that it happened.

Chapter Five - Divide

It was supposed to be an easy operation, but now you’re being hunted - you aren’t for sure. You’re hoping that the 141 isn’t compromised, because that means Laswell will send you to the one place you don’t want to be sent. Ghost is trying his best. OR, your flashbacks are getting worse, and the operation goes…crazy.

Chapter Six - Hypnosis

It’s late at night, you’re upset and trying to communicate to Simon how to be better in your relationship - except his idea of apologizing is far from what you expected.

Chapter Seven - Home, You’re Home

You could hear the bells, calling you home as you sat in the plane. Even when Ghost kept you close, those bells beckoned - and not just for you. OR, you’re at the beck and call of the US Military.

Chapter Eight - A Different Person

…

Chapter Nine - Flight Risk

…

Chapter Ten - The Only Time It Rains In North Island

…

#simon ghost riley #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley request #simon riley #simon riley mw2 #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x afab!reader

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anguishedlurker · 7 months

Text

What a burden you are

((Hey kids wanna see Danny have Enough(tm) of Valerie['s bullshit from Valerie's POV and the fallout thereof?))

Ao3 Link

Valerie found herself reflecting on her time under Masters more than she already wanted, most nights.

Tonight was worse than most. A pathetic echo in her mind trying to take root as she chased a different kind of pathetic echo.

For each and every fault he had- she could spend years counting in that miserable creep of a man- he knew his ghosts and his weapons. Very little of his advice had proven inaccurate on even the most minuscule of levels.

“An afraid ghost is never to be underestimated, yet if careful they can undo themselves with hardly an effort by you.”

But no, Phantom wasn’t afraid in front of her. Insolent brat, darting from cover to cover. To boot, it had the audacity to stick it’s tongue out at her.

The humor didn’t reach its eyes though. Not tonight. Though, it always seemed a little rougher around the edges when she managed to jump it after some ghost had tried doing her work for her.

Yet it was always almost well humored to her.

Tonight really shouldn’t be different.

“Fear will destroy them- even in the living it’s hard to control a fear response. Aimless lashing out makes openings.

Rage, on the other hand…”

And yet, Phantom seemed annoyed by her hunt tonight, of all things. How inconvenient of her, really! Maybe she’d upgrade to threat one day, if she was realllll patient…

Phantoms head finally phased out of a tree, grinning at her in a way that didn’t meet it’s eyes.

“Well, this barking match has gone on long enough to prove bite-less, so I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take my leaf!”

Pew pew, cunt.

(As always, the faint sense that her dad would be reaching for the soap brushed past her mind)

She missed, of course. It’d been a long time since she’d hit Phantom.

“Chickening out already, Phantom? Thought you were better than that.”

Keep her voice low, even. Steady. Bait doesn’t work without patience. And everything seemed to hit less and less, now.

“No you don’t. And even if you did, don’t you have work? Or school? Promotions or tests to pass, even?”

Its voice echoed from nowhere in particular, giving no indication to location.

Its staunch refusal to indicate whether or not it knew anything about her was ever present.

“Oh, you’re interested in my life? How flattering. Stay the fuck away from my apartment.”

Same song new night. Lancers test was tomorrow though, but this was more important. Shitty junior year and it’s- focus. If she can’t get to it then she simply has to improve her attempts. It will crack eventually.

“Yeah yeah, kill on sight. Seriously though, Red, how do you keep standing with the way you live? You can’t possibly be getting more than two hours of sleep a night.”

Sound to the left- Pew pew. It almost sounded concerned about her.

How pathetic.

“Who’s to say I don’t sleep during the day?”

“You don’t.”

“And you know this because?”

A question with no good implications underneath, and no good answers.

Accusations to its integrity always seemed to work best. Closest thing to falling over itself it’d get, all to prove it was a ‘good person’.

Phantom finally formed away from cover, relaxed and cozy in an imaginary reclining chair. It seemed to cycle through ways to mock her, always implying that it was completely unbothered.

Kept up its little act even when it was hit! Really, to brush off the shots like it couldn’t feel them….

Been a while since she’d made it flinch, actually. No matter what she managed to do to it.

No, no. Focus.

She could see it. The lack of real humor in its eyes- whether or not it’d admit such a thing, she was getting to it. She had to drive a knife into its cracks somehow.

“People have bills. Doesn’t take crazy stalking to figure out you either have a sponsor or are stupid rich- and you kinda stopped talking to your sponsor. Was a whole thing in the ghost community? Anyways, you need to have some sort of job or some sort of parental support at this point.”

A dead smile, a tilt of the head. Teeth much too sharp in a mouth that almost could’ve passed for a real person’s.

She’ll need to hunt down- No, it’s already out. And if she gets pissed, she’s dead.

“Rage is lethal. They’re focused, and they want you dead.

And, I mean the best when I say it dear, you don’t know rage. Not in ghosts.”

She’d argue she knew plenty about rage, period, though the point was long gone.

Pew pew.

It disappeared and reappeared two feet to the right, still smiling.

Fucker.

“What can I say, I value my independence. Strong and capable, everything a hunter needs to be.”

“Uh-huh. Who’s that philosopher that said no man is an island, again?”

It pretended to tap its foot against the dead air, taking its eyes off her as it acted out exaggerated thinking. Bait to shoot.

“John Donne. Know any philosophers that ever chatted about not dragging people down?”

“Right, this has been a delight but- hey wait, I think that’s actually right. I dunno, it’s the kind of thing I’d actually have to look up-”

“Dragging. Down. Get it? Ha. Ha.”

Finger curled around the trigger, giving one attention grabbing pew.

Vanish, and re-appear.

“Only so many times I can try to say that first and foremost, not my dog. Not at that point. Just a concerned samaritan trying to figure out why a dog was loose. You don’t care, though.”

Its tone was… more clipped than usual. And it’d been a while since it’s last pun.

Good.

“Honestly, it goes beyond the dog at this point.”

“Really, Red? Nobody’s got you at gunpoint out here.”

She’d been stewing on this one a while actually. Never a better time than the present to try a new tactic, right?

“No, no. The town Phantom. The ghosts as a whole.”

“Go harass one of the Doctor Fentons’ about the tear in the fabric of reality in their basement then.”

Oh it was seething with that one.

Good.

Yet, this was an infuriating corner.

“The Fentons have made it clear that by now, they can’t do anything.”

“I’m missing the part where you turn it into my fault. And even if your point was clear, they are liars. Bad ones.”

The accusation against the Fentons integrity had to be bait. As such, asking was caving in to its plans.

“Simple. They’re after you. It’s a game that you’re encouraging.”

Its eyes narrowed, most of its pantomimes of life and movement ceasing.

Finally.

“You have no idea how much I wish they’d stop. Not that you’re willing to learn.”

“So you admit it?”

“Nothing of the sort. If they all stopped I would stop appearing.”

“Typical.”

“Mhmm.”

“Still, guess you’re just too used to dragging people down with you, right? Enough to never notice.”

“Listen, I get to hear my friends jack off to pseudo psychology enough as it is. You got your stinger loaded yet, or should I just, like, go?”

“Well since you’re asking… let me ask; were you even a blessing in life?”

The silence was palpable.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Phantom paused, eyes narrowing further as it processed her accusation.

“What teenager is, really?” It eventually ground out, not even deigning to smile.

“I’ll have you know I was a delight.”

Wry, guiltless. Keep steady.

“Hmmm… I dunno that I believe that one, Red.”

A pretend hum, something that if written out would sound like a quip.

Its tone was completely flat.

Valerie smirked underneath her helm.

“But something like you, I can just see it. Everything falling over itself to baby your pathetic ass… How much did they give you? How much did you take from them?”

For one single second, Phantoms eyes reflected red.

“Like your dad and your hospital bills?”

Silence.

And then, rage.

“So help me, Phantom-”

“No, no Red- Let’s- I’m done, okay? You- I blaze through and you blame me, fine.”

Her shots missed, of course

“But, Valerie, how much do you cost your dad in medical bills at this point? Delight my left asscheck.”

Even in her rage, she had to pause. She’d never heard it swear.

Her shots missed again.

“You sign up to the most insane asshole you can find just to hunt down what- even with your little revenge fantasy- is some fucking teenager-”

Lots and lots of swearing.

Phantom was properly pissed this time.

Good, it was getting old not getting to it.

And nothing it could say can-

“Hell, I looked it up once- You know your little punctured lung you got off of Skulker? That your dad had to drag you out of the wreckage for and strip your suit off just to keep your little job secret? Boom, median of six grand. Right there.”

… how much?

“What does every bill combined add to Valerie? You wanna- how much of a burden- Jesus Christ. How much of a burden are you? Good god.”

How much…?

...

No, no it had to be bait. Hospitals are expensive but- well… very expensive- but!- … how much?

She was in combat.

“Deny a girl her hobbies, eh? But finally, so you do-”

“No shit I know who you are. Some chick shows up with a revenge fetish against me? I‘m investigating.”

Fucking- fetish??

“And here I though there could be some proof not all highschoolers are assholes.” She snarked, not paying attention to what she was saying. Scripts were running in her brain with no checks to see if it was sensible or not.

“I didn’t make it to highschool, Valerie. You want to kill a middleschooler, and you can’t even tell me what you’ve costed your dad to get here.”

Her gun, for the first time in... a very long time, dropped from its lock on Phantom.

“You can’t tell me what you cost but you’re just soooo cozy with telling me I must’ve been a- Fuck you. Genuinely. Did you even know the dog was one your fathers company killed? Bet you didn’t. Allll their guard dogs in training were put down for that pretty security system. A middleschooler and a dead puppy.”

“You are not a middleschooler.”

Her breathing hitched too much, she was losing herself. Phantoms youthful (manipulative, fake, anything else please) looked at her with no warmth.

No humor.

“Not anymore, no. The dead don’t have school.”

Its tone was openly cold and resentful.

In front of her was a ghost, whom she hated. It was a violent, mean, and dishonest thing with no regard for other people.

And the same eyes it’d always had stared back at her right now. Phantoms features had never budged the slightest nanometer, the last two years.

Youthful as ever.

Pew, pew.

It did not move, and it did not flinch.

“It’s been a long time since you could hurt me Valerie.”

Borderline glacial towards her, like she was a particularly stupid child.

But maybe she deserved that one, because of all things, she should’ve seen that it wasn’t acting unbothered by her shots.

“Ask your dad how much you cost him before lecturing me on- Just. God. There’s something genuinely wrong with you. And I’m not protecting you anymore, not if that’s seriously how you’re gonna treat- just… fuck you.”

It had disappeared before she could re-aim her gun at it for the audacity. Protecting her? Bullshit.

But, all alone now, board humming underneath her, left her stewing over the entire conversation.

And, well…

At least she’d obviously touched a nerve.

~~~

More than she’d ever be worth in her life, ever again, was her answer. Not the one he said, but she knew what evasion looked like. She knew what it meant.

And how much did he pay per month?

More than what they had to spare, was not said. He’d never say it.

A new fight breaking out near her was a relief, one she didn’t dwell on.

She’d just have to be careful to not get hurt. It was so simple.

And then the battle between Skulker and lunch lady halted at her appearance, Skulker turning smug while Lunch Lady looked away abruptly.

“And what the fuck do you think you’re gonna do, looking so happy over there?” She asked, strafing left as she aimed her gun.

Skulker didn’t move as the metal helm grinned wider. Lunch Lady vanished.

“Did you know Phantom declared open season on you?” Was the last thing she heard before her world was crushed.

~~~

Her dad would never blame her. Never say it.

Never tell her she was a burden.

But now- god, how much did this cost? Doctors were saying to just hope she wasn’t permanently paralyzed. Hope that she could eventually write again with her left hand, or learn to use her right.

She’d be out of school for a long time now.

At least she missed Lancers dumb test.

The heart monitor was her only company through the pain meds (that she refused most of) and incessant nurses.

Until…

“Danny?”

Silent as mist, as always. She hadn’t heard the door. But there he was, looking like he always did.

Except…

“Listen, I’m not really here to talk. I was voted to bring you your homework and flagged down to pass a note.”

His face tight, his tone blank.

“I’m sure you have things to do.”

He was probably itching to go back to trying to help his sister around the house, sweeping after the absolute tornadoes that were his parents.

A real shame Jasmine never left. An even greater shame she never admitted why she settled for the local college.

She could’ve gone places.

“Sure. Let’s go with that.” He gruffed, setting a binder of work on the first table he could find.

“Here’s your card.”

Huffed out, the card tossed with laser accuracy to her non injured hand. She’s lucky she caught it, the pain meds she couldn’t deny like weights on her one good hand.

This was- what did she do?

“Danny, what-”

“I don’t really want to hear it. ‘Cause it’s about time you knew that I know damn well what you do in your off time, and did this to yourself really.”

No…

No.

“And when exactly did you find out that-”

“The entire goddamn time, Val! Remember the stupid flour baby? The job I was threatening you with was ghost hunting, not being the Nasty Burger mascot! Which! I still hold to that if you weren’t ghost hunting, it wouldn’t have been that hard to do your half!”

He- no, not that long. Impossible. Nobody else had even looked at it as a serious-

He’s always been a little smarter than what he lets everyone know.

The last lick of sense echoed through what had to be the meds. Danny, always there, seeming to know more than what anyone had ever told him. Easy to work with, happy to obey. He made it so very easy to forget he was so bright.

Focus.

“Fine, fine! But I didn’t- Skulker-”

“God- just… God. Don’t. Nobody asked you to fight them. You tossed out everything and everyone that didn’t fit to do it, too.’

“I didn’t do-”

“We are not friends, Valerie. You don’t have any friends, and we’re barely ex’s at this point. And for what?”

“Barely even- What are you on about??”

“Val, we dated for like, two weeks two years ago! And you dumped me to go chase after Phantom, ‘cause fuck having a real life with friends or a boyfriend!”

It was like a fun house mirror held up to those memories, how he stood there now.

Never did get taller, never did lose most of the baby fat. Now standing there seething with hate instead of adoration.

He still looked as frail as ever.

“But Phantom-”

“Shut up, take your homework, and read your shitty card.” He growled, already heading for the door.

No- No! It’s just- This isn’t like Danny! Danny… Danny just never swore- it was like, hardcoded into him!

“And what the fuck did I do to earn this? God, if it turns out you got possessed-”

Danny paused, looking back at her for a split second. So short she could’ve hallucinated it the heartstopping look before he went straight back to having his hands on the door, ready to bolt.

“Would you say that shit to me?”

“I… What?”

“What? You don’t think I ever managed to talk to some of the ghosts? I know what you said to him. Would you say it to me?”

“Of course not!”

“No, no, of course you wouldn’t. Never would even think about it, right? Fentons too cute and innocent, and small to- ugh. I know why you never tried making friends with me and Tuck- Sam hated you- but- fuck. Don’t talk to me.”

She had nothing left. Danny was-

Too cute, innocent, and small to spew this kind of hatred at her?

Ugh… Who knew such an adorable little face could be so mean...

He looked ready to slam the door. He looked like it was taking great restraint to not, every muscle so obviously tense underneath all his layers.

It’s a wonder how he never overheated.

And at the last second, he hesitated.

“I never wanted you hurt, I… I promise, even if I’m mad. Enraged, even. But I just don’t know what you thought was going to happen, anymore.”

And then it was slammed shut, leaving her with the sinking feeling he was gone forever from her life.

… fuck.

Alone, again now, with a heart monitor and a card from- Well, Danny hadn’t mentioned.

God that stung. Couldn’t even stay to say who still had a heart for her.

She needed to move on, already, because burnt bridges weren’t going to get fixed any time soon. And that left the card as her only option forward right now, right?

It was just folded printer paper, with no decoration on the outside.

And on the inside-

One logo, seared into her brain well over two years ago. Looking at her.

“I don’t know why I thought you were worth defending.

They won’t be nice about it ever again.

-DP”

She hid the card under her hip, eventually. Made a nurse toss it out the next time one came around.

Pretended like she hadn’t seen it.

#danny phantom #dp #fic #valerie gray #long #angst #come get yall juice

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chaoticbardlady99 · 2 months

Text

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me (Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader) MDNI 18+

Chapter Six: Four Clerics and a Vampire Spawn Enter a Tomb

Synposis: Astarion is struggling to adjust to not having you around for a little bit, but he amends this quickly. Astarion takes a moment to explore his own wants and needs while you are asleep.

CW: Mentions of torture, gore, m! Masturbation, Astarion being a lovesick mess I just had this, “oh Astarion and Tav were never together so he has no baseline for sexual touch.” And my brain went, “HE DOESN’T HAVE A BASELINE FOR SEXUAL TOUCH” and well- here we are. I hope you enjoy! I have put markers for when smut starts and stops for anyone who isn’t into it :)

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. I did take the picture of ‘Birdie’ and Astarion on my PS5

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Chapter 5: Chapter 7 : AO3

Astarion sits and stares at your broken, crumpled form. He had closed your eyes already and he had dug a hole to bury the cat that so graciously let you inhabit it for so long.

He recognizes the country bumpkin arrow as one of Leon’s. How could this happen? Astarion had searched the area high and low for signs of the Bastard and didn’t find a thing- where the fuck did he come from!?

Astarion lets himself cry as he buries the cat.

He can’t feel your presence around him and that terrifies Astarion to no end. He can’t lose you- you are both supposed to be ‘stuck’ with each other forever.

Astarion has hopes, dreams, and stupid fantasies about what kind of life you could live together once they were able to resolve your incorporeal person problems. He really just knows that, as long as he’s around you, life will be fun. Hard sometimes, but nothing that couldn’t be talked about or handled.

You have given him a rather large lesson in communication and the importance of it- after about six months, you had both celebrated Astarion directly telling you that something you said bothered him instead of lashing out.

It had been something stupid- he can’t even remember what it was. He was jealous of some man that you said was very attractive as the two of you peered over the railing of your inn in a small town around Amn.

That all feels so trivial now. You could be with anyone if it meant Astarion could have you back right now. He may kill the person and cry, but that’s beside the point. <

The sun is suddenly embracing him and Astarion feels his body become reinvigorated.

You never gave up on him or finding a cure so that he could walk in the sun. You also expressed having hopes and dreams amongst other what-nots. You wouldn’t give up this easily on him and he sure as hell won’t give up on you.

You have to be out there somewhere. If you aren’t around him that you had to be teleported somewhere else and if that means storming the Heavens- so be it.

Astarion immediately begins flipping through Volo’s book- rubbing the stupid pink tulle tutu material between his fingers.

It’s a stupid thing to keep- he admits it to himself all the time- but it was such a hilarious sight to see and you had said you hope one day he sees how much you mean to him. Astarion will mess with the crappy material whenever he needs the reminder that he has worth and you are busy doing something or sleeping. It’s helped him a significant amount during the night time- the happy memory soothing his soul.

And he desperately needs that reassurance and soothing right now.

Thankfully, Volo’s book wasn’t totally filled with bullshit- the back detailing a City that is not that far from his current location.

It’s about two and a half days away. That’s entirely doable and you are more than likely perfectly safe, exploring the city and, with any luck, you are hoping he’s trying to get back to you.

He can’t get himself to stop- not even for a moment. He finds himself absentmindedly humming various violin pieces you have played for him since you learned you could be an incorporeal person.

He feels border line delirious and he’s pretty fucking hungry if he’s being honest with himself- the creatures he’s finding as he goes aren’t filling enough, but he doesn’t have time to properly hunt.

You would be worried and upset with him for not taking care of himself, but he won’t feel okay again until you are back in his sight and within arms length again.

The trek is horribly boring- he has become so accustomed to even your little snores during travel that the silence is uncomfortable and wrong. Astarion can’t even begin to imagine how his heart would feel if he tried to fall asleep and stay asleep without you near.

The hour he tried to trance out of sheer exhaustion had been full of every nightmare imaginable, but it was a dream of Leon killing you- taking away the only person in the whole world that Astarion would gladly lay his life on the line for.

He should have killed Leon the moment he suggested you become a sacrifice for him to get Victoria back. Astarion would sooner go back in time sacrifice him and the other spawn than hand you over if that’s what it took to keep you safe.

At least in that reality, you could both be together and he would never have to worry about losing you because he wouldn’t have to worry about fucking Leon.

He just knows Leon is involved- he can feel the irritation in his bones grow with each minute he walks.

Astarion races through the forest- being mindful enough to not go barreling through some poor soul just minding it’s own business.

For once, he isn’t looking for a fight. He just wants to get to you and leave- get far away from this Gods awful place and begin your lives together somewhere far, far away.

The second day feels even worse than the first- twenty four hours was far too long and he was growing more worried by the second stint of his journey.

What if Leon finds you before Astarion does?

Astarion is worried that Leon will convince you to sacrifice yourself for his daughter if he gets to you first- something he knows you would do without a second thought.

Astarion finds himself begging the universe that, for once, he is good enough for someone to stay for him- wait for him.

Worth someone being a little bit selfish for once.

What if he isn’t? What kind of life could a transient vampire spawn offer you? Would you willingly remain a ghost if you had the choice or would you pass on?

He attempts to trance again when his thoughts become overwhelming. He continues, however, to refuse sleeping for very long or take the time to properly hunt.

He knows what his needs are and he will take the time later. However, time isn’t a luxury he thinks he can afford right now.

Astarion needs you- he’s doing this for himself more than anything.

His second hour long trance is much better. He dreams of you in his arms, held tightly to his chest- your hair fanning out on a plush pillow while he leaves gentle kisses on your face and you giggle happily. You are here again and everything is okay.

Astarion wakes up crying when he realizes it’s only a trance- a trick of the mind. His lips yearn to know how your skin feels underneath them.

Astarion needs you back by his side yesterday. One day was unacceptable as is, but two? His world feels tilted.

He feels like he can breathe again when he spies the massive Watch Tower in the distance- the black, oddly shaped tower looms over the other buildings and it’s presence demands to be seen.

His feet lead him through the gates of the City of Manifest and he makes a B-line to the Hall of Farewells. There are people everywhere enjoying their loved ones, but no sign of you yet.

Astarion goes to the front of the line- ready to knock whoever over so that he can talk to the teller. Your life very well could be in danger- Astarion hasn’t seen any signs of Leon in the Underdark, but you can never be too careful and that arrow was definitely one of his shitty homemade ones.

“Hey! You can’t just cu-“

Astarion gives the man a menacing, unblinking smile. The man gulps nervously.

“You were saying?”

“Ha, uh I was just saying, go right on ahead! You can cut me anywhere, anytime.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, my Boy,” Astarion says with a sneer, “otherwise you may not live to see the light of day.”

A dawning realization of horror crosses the man’s face.

“That’s not what I-“

“NEXT!”

Astarion waves, “that’s my cue- I will find your delicious self later.”

He snickers to himself after he turns around- the man was positively green-, but when he goes to look down next to him to be chastised by you as you begrudgingly laugh- he’s reminded once again of his current twisted reality.

It’s only been 56 hours and he misses you so much- there is a massive hole in his chest with every step he takes and he is praying to every God that you are here.

“Hello! Welcome to the Hall of Farewells,” an elderly woman stands behind the counter, “who are you looking for today, young man?”

If you were here? You would have busted up laughing.

“Young man, my ass!”

He can’t help, but smile slightly to himself as a tear begins to fall from his eye.

“I’m looking for Althaeastra Rothwell? She goes by Birdie,” he gestures to show your height, “about this tall, beautiful, kind, hilarious, plays the violin really well.”

“Well- that is more than enough information for me to help you!” The elderly woman states while beaming, “she must be a very special woman and how lucky of her to have such a wonderful partner.”

“I’m the lucky one, actually,” the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them.

The woman smiles even brighter and Astarion has to try very hard to keep himself from blushing like a smitten school boy.

Good Gods, he thinks, stop being a grieving, emotional mess and focus. You can be weird and dissect your feelings later once you find Birdie.

The woman claps her hand and performs some kind of magic on a book that flips pages with the intensity of a storm. Names are jumping from the pages- sorting through nicknames, letters, dates of death, etc. until a bright DING alerts the elderly woman that the spell is complete.

“Ah yes! Miss Rothwell! She hasn’t been here too long- only a couple days,” the woman muses, “hmm well, it looks like your brother already went off to find her. My guess is that you will find her with him.”

Astarion feels his entire body become significantly colder than it already is.

No- Leon couldn’t have bested him this time. How did Leon get here ahead of him? He did so many perimeter checks before entering the Catacombs and Leon was nowhere to be found. There should be absolutely no reason for him to be here- unless he had planned to kill you so you are a ghost again? That would make sense and it would force you two apart.

“Which brother?”

The woman cocks her head at him and then a realization seems to be forming in her mind.

You weren’t supposed to be going anywhere with Leon and it’s likely this woman just directed you to your actual death.

“His name is… Leon,” she reads the name uneasily, “she wrote only your name in the registry- specifically put ‘WAITING FOR ASTARION’. Brayden tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. Your brother came in shortly after and checked the registry.”

Astarion damn near loses it- screaming profanities inside his head and desperately trying to keep from exploding all together. He can’t protect you from prison so he needs to play nice.

Afterwards? Well, let’s just say Astarion may be creating a list of people he wants to Falcon punch in the throat after you are safe and with him again. You most likely won’t approve, but he told you not to go wandering off with strangers! You do not have the combat experience or street smarts to be able to protect yourself.

Astarion goes to ask another question when a man comes racing in with a very mutilated, but living ghost. An insignia with a boot print and compass rose is on the front. The man’s black, curly locks are mangled and blue stained.

The older man is hysterical- begging someone to save his son as pieces of him begin to fall away and disappear. Astarion feels a wave of panic go through his body.

“Brayden,” the elderly woman gasps, “Gods help us!”

A group of clerics descends on the men and tries to help the man who was evidently giving you a tour. Another group goes racing out the door in the direction the body was found. Astarion makes note of this “Tombyard District” and begins to leave.

His body, however, freezes as he approaches the young Ghost laying out on the floor- wheezing painfully and his eyes meet Astarion’s a look of recognition. You must have talked about Astarion a lot.

Brayden’s eyes seem to scream back at Astarion, “she’s in danger! You need to save her!”

Astarion would know that magic and knife work anywhere- Leon got to you and this poor man probably tried to defend you. It disgusts Astarion that he is grateful for a perfect stranger, but anyone who has attempted to keep you safe is okay in his books.

He will not lose you to this place and he will make sure Brayden’s suffering was not in vain or yours for that matter.

Astarion leaves the Hall of Farewells- realizing that the more he sits there and listens to that man wail for his adult son to stay with him, the more and more hopeless and scared Astarion becomes.

Leon was Cazador’s best hunter, but it was because he was an aggressive meathead about the whole thing. It irritated the piss out of everyone. He wasn’t subtle and was more than happy to swoop in and steal your mark if it meant he could get back to the Palace faster.

It doesn’t take very long for Astarion to track Leon, but he’s alarmed when the faint scent of his other siblings begins to tickle his nose. The guard at the entrance of the Tombyard warned him against going in this late, but Astarion has a feeling he doesn’t have much time.

He stole a Ring of Manifesting on the way there so that after he finds you, you can both run straight to Waterdeep. Astarion had used one of his sending spells detailing what is going on to Tav and Gale just in case you both go MIA, but they are expecting both of you to be there. Admittedly, Astarion is quite proud of himself- you are always on him for not having a plan and this time he actually has a plan!

The smell of rotting flesh and the sound of people crying over their loved ones rings through his ears. There are multiple funerals occurring at once- mostly Drow and a few Humans.

The area is not cozy nor is it an aesthetically pleasing place to rest, the buildings look like warehouses for the bored and lonely and the statues along the streets are even graveyard-esque. It makes him uncomfortable- he doesn’t necessarily care for graveyards anymore. Not that he ever did, really.

There are alleyways here and there, but only one has Leon’s scent and the other scent is Lavender and something else he can’t pick up on. It has to be you which makes Astarion feel even more sick.

What did he tell you about following random strangers places!? One time you followed a man with white hair because you thought it was Astarion and you had been missing for an hour and a half.

Now you have been missing for probably two Gods damn days!

The scent leads him to an alleyway and the stench of rot becomes worse- Astarion can practically feel the pull of the weave in the air and the dark art of Necromancy.

Wonderful, just wonderful.

Astarion creeps along the wall- grateful that he listened to your suggestion about wearing solely black armor. It made sneaking around much easier and if he’s about to face a necromancer without a Cleric around then he’s going to need every advantage he can get.

A few new scents are in the air- much cleaner than the heavy must that threatens to suffocate him.

Think before you act, Astarion reminds himself, being irrational is not going to bring Birdie back to you any faster.

As he comes around a corner as slowly as he possibly can, he pulls his daggers out with the pointed ends against someone’s throat- he is met with a set of piercing blue eyes and earthy brown eyes. Both individuals appear to be clerics and they both gesture for Astarion to be quiet- that they are not a threat. Two other people become more visible to him.

Astarion recognizes the individual symbols on their chest as Uhanam- a lawful neutral God that is about law and intelligence-, Durann- a Lawful Good God that is about healing and listening to laws, and Aluvan- protector of Ghosts. He doesn’t recognize the other God, but she has the same symbol as the poor Cleric who had been severely injured trying to protect you.

A door appears further down an alley and a man that smells of Undeath with a beating heart comes walking down the alley. Astarion recognizes him as a Shadar Kai almost instantly.

Much to his irritation, the individuals let him pass by them, but he watches one use sleight of hand to maneuver the keys off his belt. The Shadar Kai doesn’t even so much as flinch. It’s rather impressive and Astarion enjoys the shit eating grin the Wood Elf flashes at their fellow clerics.

You would really like these people. Astarion will like them as long as none of them attempt to take you away from him.

“Alright,” one of the clerics, a blonde halfling woman, releases a sigh of relief before continuing her whispering, “hello- are you friend or foe?”

“Depends,” he whispers back, “are you going to kill everyone-including the people they have held captive- or are you on a rescue mission.”

“Rescue and revenge mission- actually,” the half- elf woman with the same insignia as Brayden says, “they tried to kill my fellow Cleric, Brayden- my husband in fact, and they kidnapped the person he was showing around. We just hope she’s still alive- this Lich doesn’t hang onto people very long.”

Of course it’s a fucking Lich.

“For all of your sake,” Astarion snarls, “you better hope she is alive.”

“Your loved one, I take it?” the halfing says.

Astarion nods- they need to know there is someone here for you and if they so much as look at you funny, he will kill them with absolutely no remorse to show for it.

“That settles it then,” the Wood Elf says, “let’s go save some folks and kick some ass!”

It was like being around Karlach- the cleric has a goofy grin and an even goofier vibe.

Astarion follows them- trailing behind so that he can take more time to search and see you before it becomes a bloodbath.

You just have to find her and get out of here, Astarion repeats like a mantra in his head, she is alive, she is safe-ish, she is okay. Everything is going to be fine because it has to be fine.

��The place is filled to the brim with various undead creatures haunting it’s halls. Some creatures he has never even seen before and others look like they are stitched together with mismatched parts.

Astarion tries to swallow his panic- no sign of you yet so you may just be caged some-

“NO PLEASE!” your voice screams through the air and the sound of you struggling against someone rings alongside your voice, “PLEASE! I- DON’T WANT TO BECOME THAT- PLEASE!!!!!!”

You cry out in pain and Astarion begins barrelling past the Clerics who are trying to stop him, but they can figure it out. He needs to get to you.

Astarion pushes past every individual who comes by him- some try to attack him and he is quick to rebuke them or kill them with one blow. Your screams are becoming more and more panicked- you sound like you are fighting for your life and Astarion wishes you were aware that he is right here- nothing will happen to you.

He just needs to find you and then you never have to come to this horrible place ever again.

“ASTARION!” your cries are coming from down the hall, “ASTARION, HELP! PLEASE!”

Your voice has begun to sound gargled, but he knows he’s on the right floor- the scent of Lemongrass hanging in the air like a blessing.

When he finally finds the room you are in, he watches as some kind of magic tries to contort you into something else entirely. You are fighting to prevent it- tears streaming down either side of your face.

“Astarion- please hurry,” your anger and your voice being reduced to a tearful whisper, “I’m not ready to die.”

And he’s not ready for you to. In fact, Astarion feels positively homicidal.

Within a millisecond, Astarion is shoving his daggers between the Lich’s ribs and it cries out in surprise- Astarion uses an arrow of Thunder and sends the Lich crashing into the wall- one of it’s arms dislocating in the process.

The Shadar Kai descend on him and you struggle against your restraints- trying to get away from the ones that are trying to hold you back down and keep him from getting to you. They are unlatching your restraints and dragging you towards another hall. The Lich waiting like a coward behind it’s soldiers.

“ASTARION!” you scream, “BEHIND YOU!”

He sends another Shadar Kai to the Shadowfell thanks to your warning, only to have one of the Shadar Kai holding you cut your throat, an angry growl leaving Astarion,and he cuts through every creature his blade can get it’s sharp edge on.

A crash from behind him and the horrific creature that comes racing into the room distracts Astarion and he’s grateful that the Clerics had caught up with him because he wouldn’t have been able to save himself from the oncoming Ghoul running towards him otherwise.

He makes eye contact with Dalyria, but it’s not her eyes. The sight of his siblings and their fate makes Astarion feel ill- the Lich gestures and suddenly they are collapsing to the ground in a ball of red magic. The blood curdling scream of anger that leaves Astarion’s mouth scares him.

The Lich looks like he’s about to shit himself.

Not only had this horrible, unnatural creature taken you and harmed you significantly- it had destroyed his family. The only one he knows and remembers. The only people in the whole world who know what it means to suffer just as well as he does.

The creature gets back up and the Lich doesn’t have time to dodge before one of it’s unnaturally strong hands grabs it’s face and sends it’s flying away from the hall- it’s skull begins to crack the moment he makes impact with the wall.

The Lich uses shadow step to retreat down one of the hallways as his siblings run at him again- looking rather pleased that they chased it off.

He feels angry- it won’t be safe for you or his siblings here or anywhere with that Lich fucking off. Astarion wants to go after it- desperately and end this once and for all, but he knows he can’t.

Instead, he returns his attention back to the battle and getting to you as you continue to struggle against your captors. He’s over there in seconds- uses Dimension Door to put you in a safe corner and then using Misty Step to get back into battle. The creature that is his siblings stand protectively in front of you- waiting to destroy anyone who dare harm you. Their eyes meet his and they nod- we’ve got her.

He tries not to cry from sentiment alone- they care about him enough to keep you safe so he can focus on killing the other enemies in the room and Astarion never thought he would see the day where that would ever happen. It’s a shame it’s probably too late now to try to start over with each other again.

The remainder of the creatures are destroyed and Astarion personally mutilates the individual who decided cutting your throat was a fantastic idea.

Once it all calms down and everyone is dead- the Clerics lock the hallway door where the Lich had run away and they gesture for the mix and match of his siblings to follow as they exit the building.

The Aluvan Priestess, the Halfing, is the one to assure them that they would reverse their condition, they’ve apparently done it before and he hears your choked sigh of relief. He’s surprised to see the monstrous versions of his siblings look at you with hopeful eyes and you back at them.

It must have been a horrible 56 hours.

Brayden’s cleric in arms and wife comes over and heals your throat, your wrists, and offers you a clean outfit. You are shaking as you take the clothes and you look at the woman with your lower lip trembling.

“Is Brayden okay? He was trying to keep me safe.”

The woman nods and smiles, “he’s in rough shape, but nothing he won’t be able to come back from- thank Wyst.”

That seems to make you cry harder and Astarion is quick to scoop you up into his arms now that the initial shock of everything he has just seen has worn off. You cling to his neck, your arms wrapped around him tightly, and he just rubs soft circles into your back.

“It’s safe now, Birdie,” he whispers, “I will never ever let anyone harm you again.”

*****************************

It’s later in the evening when you seem to finally be more yourself again, but Astarion can tell that something horrible happened to you at the hand of the Lich. He is refraining from asking- not wanting to upset you or push you too hard.

You are drinking the honey mead in your hand heavily- eating bread and cheese along side it. Ghosts can’t get hung over so you took it as an opportunity to try to drown out the events of the last couple days.

It’s when you look at him with tearful eyes that he knows you are truly, honest to Gods suffering.

“Darling?” He gently takes your hand in his, “what is it?”

You look up at the ceiling with a trembling lip before looking him in the eyes again.

“He cut me open,” you choke, “he- he took out my organs and put them in other bodies before putting them back in mine.

“Then he was going t- to,” you shake as you try to get through your next sentence, “he was going to turn me into a Necroplasm. A horrible creature only made of bone and ectoplasm. Lifeless; thoughtless.”

Your face is back in your hands and Astarion is feeling an incredibly confusing amount of emotions right now.

He wants to hunt down that lich and destroy the bastard limb by limb, over and over again until he finally shows the last bit of mercy he could- breaking the phylactery.

But he also wants to get out of the City of Manifest entirely. His siblings are all separated again- temporarily Ghosts, but incredibly happy to not be melded together while the Clerics search for the remainder of their bodies to reconstruct. He has no idea how it works, but apparently the Gods over manifest are much kinder than the ones who dominate the rest of Faerun.

Leon is the only one who hasn’t come back, but he’s dead to Astarion either way. He was quite impressed with the amount of damage you had been able to inflict. Once he teaches you how to use a dagger, you could truly be unstoppable.

However, that’s for a later date when you become settled.

Gale sent him two tickets to teleport to Waterdeep and you seemed to be relieved that you wouldn’t be staying here- you want to come back, but after you feel more confident in your ability to protect yourself.

Tav and Gale are getting married in a few weeks- Waterdeep will be good for both of you. It will be familiar and comfortable.

You can stay together in the room you usually occupy, he will keep watch if that’s what you need to sleep for a while.

Anything to make you feel safe again.

“I feel so violated,” you sniff and laugh sadly to yourself, “I have the worst luck. The first touch I receive in three and a half centuries and it’s while I’m being cut open and fit to others like a puzzle piece- like a thing.

“I could feel it,” you wipe your eyes, “every horrible thing those people felt before they died. I felt their love and misery for the people they were never going to see again-“

This was not how Astarion wanted this reunion to go- Leon is dead, but it would never feel like enough.

Leon took honest, innocent moments you deserved to have and tainted them- all for something that was never going to happen anyway.

A Lich is a Lich and he’s going to hunt the bastard down- you were just a victim of opportunity in his eyes.

“I wish I had gotten there faster,” Astarion whispers, “this isn’t how I imagined this going.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, wiping your eyes.

Does he tell you that he envisioned at least kissing you? If you wanted? Now it feels like it would be pressuring you.

“It’s not imp-“

“No- enough about me,” you say, “I want to know what you’ve been doing and how life in the sun has been!”

Astarion smiles softly, “there hasn’t been a life in the sun without you. I barely noticed- I was focused on getting here to you.”

“Wait, really?” he nods in affirmation, you smile widely at that, “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who missed hanging around.”

You look so happy looking at him- you are wearing his shirt since your own clothes had been practically destroyed and the clothing that was lended to you was uncomfortable.

“I’m going to wash my face and all the ick from these last couple days off real quick- I’ll be back.”

He couldn’t help but miss you- even a room away when you go to wash off. Astarion had braided your hair back afterwards.

Every part of you is beautiful and lovely- he was so scared he lost you without ever getting to see what would happen between the two of you. He hates how gushy and mushy he’s become over the last two days- at this rate, he’s just going to embarrass himself when you ultimately don’t return his feelings.

“Be my date for Tav and Gale’s wedding,” he blurts out of nowhere.

Nice going panty dropper- you call that romantic?

“What?”

You literally said one sentence and blew up the whole thing, Astarion scolds himself.

Astarion clears his throat, “I couldn’t think of a better plus one nor anyone I would want to suffer through the cheesy affair with.”

“Yes!” You exclaim, jumping up, “one hundred thousand times yes! Oh my gosh!!!!!! We will need to go shopping or thieving- who cares- I GET TO GO TO A WEDDING WITH MY FAVORITE PERSON!!!!!”

Oh thank Gods.

Your once melancholy mood has shifted and Astarion feels a warm glow in his chest. He can already think of what cut would fit you best, what colors, how your hair should look, etc.

You ask him so many questions- what color does he think would be best? Will you match with him? What color would be best for both of them? And “GODS ABOVE HOW WILL I DO MY HAIR AND MAKE UP!? I’m out of practice!”

Oh and you made it very clear- absolutely no tulle or crowns.

You both somehow decide on lavender and silver. Astarion figures he’ll wear silver with lavender designs and you will do the opposite.

“What if I don’t remember how to dance!?” You say, mortified, “I’ll embarrass us both!!!”

“Oh the horror- to be forced to save my darling damsel in distress from tripping over her own heels,” he teases, pushing a stray hair out of your face, “I’m sure I have more than enough dancing experience for both of us.”

You look at him and bite your lip- a little bit of worry in your eyes.

“What is it, my Sweet?”

He struggles to stop his smile at the nice blush that courses under your skin at the term of endearment.

“I- I know you hate parties,” you start cautiously, “are you sure you want to dance and everything? We don’t have to if it would make you unhappy. Just being there with you would be more than enough. Unfortunately I can’t offer not going, I think Tara would murder me.”

Well that is… unexpected. Astarion’s body feels like it’s radiating with happiness and affection- you are quite literally perfect.

Pull yourself together.

“I’ll be fine, my Dear,” he says with a slight dismissive wave of his hand, “besides, this is my first party as a free man- who knows? Maybe I’ll become a party fiend.”

“Ha! I don’t think you like people enough to do that.”

“But I like you enough to,” he states, “so if you would like to go to them from time to time- I have no qualms.”

Gods when did he become such a romantic?

You, on the other hand, look like you might explode and he can’t tell why, but he hopes he hasn’t pushed it too far. Astarion is quickly reassured when a coy, mischievous smile passes over your face.

“I promise I won’t make you go to too many parties,” you tease, “one too many and one might end up being a funeral.”

“Ah see, that’s my kind of party!”

“Oh my Gods,” you shake your head, giggling, and put it in both of your hands, “you don’t even like cemeteries.”

“You don’t need a cemetery for a funeral if you are creative enough, Darling,” he smiles cheekily, “I do put the fun in funeral after all.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile at his Gods awful pun- he learned it from Shadowheart on their adventures and he loves to sprinkle it into conversations.

“Fair.”

Somehow, you eventually end up asleep in his arms in the plush Inn bed like he had dreamed about the other night. You snore softly as Astarion holds you closely to him- making a point of looking at the door and windows frequently enough so there aren’t any surprise visitors.

Astarion has never actually cuddled with anyone (willingly, at least). Anyone who’s ever been in a bed with him has been condemned to becoming Vampire spawn (he almost wishes they had all just been dead). It was just sex, nothing more or less. Sure people offered, but it never felt right.

This? This feels right and like you were made for him. It’s a miracle truly- Intimacy without any sexual touch and he has the choice to be there, curled up around you.

It feels heavenly- better than his trances could have ever imagined.

You are both the same temperature so you almost feel warm to the touch. Your eyes are moving back and forth as you dream, he is relieved to see a content smile on your face.

Astarion is prepared to be there for you if you have nightmares. You have taught him that just having someone to comfort you is enough. He just wishes you didn’t experience any of it in the first place, but he won’t be keeping you too far out of reach or unguarded so hopefully it will never happen again.

Eventually sleep takes Astarion too and he’s grateful for the somewhat peaceful rest- until it turns into a full blown fucking sex dream.

Astarion tries not to jolt you awake- somehow aware enough of his surroundings to know you are still there. You are still fast asleep- dawn is coming and Astarion is not, which could very well be a problem if you wake up while he’s hard.

He sneaks away to the washroom- making sure to lock the door.

He will just take a bath, cool himself off, and then go back to bed for a cuddle. It’ll be like this never happened.

(Smut begins)

He’s never actually masturbated and there is a significant amount of weariness when he thinks about the idea. Sure he’s done it for show, but never in a private, alone moment.

Astarion has basically been celibate for the last nine months and of course, now that you are a ghost person again, his libido decides to rear it’s ugly head.

He doesn’t even know if you actually want him that way!

The water is lukewarm and Astarion leans back against the tub- willing his hard on to go away already. It feels almost impossible to forget his trance- the way your pretty mouth looked around his cock, the way you keened when he filled you for the first time, the dance that takes the act from slow and romantic to something else entirely.

Wild, passionate- unrehearsed.

Astarion wraps his hands around his cock- desperate for any release he can get at this point. He isn’t going to be able to will this trance or these desires away and he is entirely in control of the act- if he becomes uncomfortable or begins to dissociate, he can stop.

“You don’t have to sleep with these people,” you reminded him softly, “Hells- you don’t have to do any of it at all if you don’t want to! Even if you are both naked and you’re already inside the person- you can stop. A good person, a person worthy of you, will respect your needs and be understanding.”

Astarion can stop. You helped him with this realization nine or ten odd months ago.

He strokes himself slowly at first, trying to mimic the movements of the trance- starting with your mouth. You are inexperienced and Astarion imagines teaching you how to suck him off- your wide, beautiful eyes looking up at him eagerly as he praises you for being such a good girl for him.

His breath hitches when he runs his thumb over the head and applying a bit of pressure over his slit, his hips bucking upward and his brain paints the beautiful picture of him thrusting into your mouth- guiding your movements by grasping your hair as gently as he possibly can as he gets closer and closer to his peak.

In this fantasy- you moan around his mouth and you are touching yourself while taking his whole length until he hits the back of your throat. You wear his shirt like you are now- nipples pert, your breasts swaying as he thrusts into you. Your eyes are lustful, hazy, and wanting.

Astarion’s head goes back by instinct- a breathy moan escaping his mouth and he’s thinking about what it might be like to be inside you. What it would be like to finally connect with someone he adores intimately.

He imagines exploring every single inch of you- finding what makes you wet and wanting for him. Astarion will ruin you for any other lover- his tongue teasing your clit and lapping up your juices like a man dying of thirst.

Astarion wants- no, needs- you to be crying out his name and telling him how you will only ever be his like he will only ever be yours.

(Smut ends)

He reaches his peak much faster than he anticipated- the release feeling like heaven. Astarion pants as he stares up at the ceiling, entirely blissed out.

Now that was incredible. He can understand why people enjoy it from time to time.

His mind continues to think of you and it gets caught on the words the elderly woman had said earlier today- about how you were lucky to have him and vice versa. Astarion let’s his brain indulge for a millisecond before locking the thought back into the “we aren’t going to talk about this right now, self!” box.

Althaeastra “Birdie” Ancunín. She would want a nice, but simple ring- nothing gaudy, he pauses his thoughts, or maybe she needs one simple ring and one gaudy one. Especially with her ability to pick up music again. What if she has to dress especially nice for an occasion? The ring should at least be able to tell people all the way out in the courtyard that she is spoken for.

He pushes his guilty pleasure thoughts aside. You are his dearest and closest companion- he will not screw that up by making you feel like you have to be in a relationship with him or like you have to jump into something right away. You just started your life and why would Astarion be your top pick? He’s a disaster- with or without you.

Well, the bliss was wonderful while it lasted. Now he’s just sad.

After cleaning up- Astarion finds himself leaning against the door frame, jealous of the warm rays of sun that get to kiss your face first thing this morning. You are still asleep and don’t stir when Astarion climbs back into bed behind you.

One day, he will tell you his feelings, but for now? Astarion is going to try to go back to sleep.

***********************************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion x you #bg3 #karlach #astarion x f! reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #astarion fanfiction #astarion smut

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zozo-01 · 6 months

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"it started off so innocent. (she had a vibe and a wolf started digging it.)"

Hi folks! This right here is part two to @dominimoonbeam lovely request for Darlin' piercing David! The lovely @pinksparkl had brought up Gabe's potential reaction to David getting a piercing I had to write it!! So here is Gabe being frustrated and meddlesome in his own fatherly way towards the two stubborn of asses in the pack!!!

Thank you to @thatlesbeanjew and @colloquialcolival for giving me idea of Gabe making pupusas for David to further the Hispanic David Headcanon!!!

CW: No Angel or Sam AU, This is still happening in the College AU, Underage Drinking, (author forgot the legal age in the states is 21), Gabe just wants to make sure David and Darlin' are happy, Mentions of Marriage, The smut will come soon I promise, Once again despite the title of the song Darlin' is GN, I just really like the song way too much

click here for the ao3 link!!!

It was a rough day for David, and despite the fact that he didn’t tell him, Gabriel could tell the fatigue on his son’s face before he left the house. So as a way to cheer him up and make sure his child is taking care of himself, he decided to make his favourite dish tonight. Maybe he can take a couple pupusas with him to class so he has something to eat in between meetings.

Gabriel watched the pot of boiling water, making sure the pork didn't burn while he kneaded the dough. Food had and will always be how Gabe shows love to those around him, something that was ingrained into his blood by his mother. In his childhood, he watched his mom cook big batches of food for their family and neighbours. Big celebrations filled with people and meals were a highlight from his childhood, and despite being far away from his home land now, he intends to bring David that same joy.

Once the water evaporated, he added the pork, onions and green peppers to a food processor, turning it into a paste for the pupusas. Through the noise, he could still hear the door open and close. Assuming it was David, he listened to the young man flop onto the couch. Gabe turned back to see David, with his shoes off thankfully, peacefully dozing off. Good, he should sleep after a stressful day.

A while goes by, and Gabe spends it by continuing to fill the dough with the pork paste, when he felt a head rest on his shoulder. Without looking down, he chuckled. “Feeling hungry David?” The young wolf groaned, still half asleep but clearly woken up by the amazing smell. Placing the first batch of pupusas onto the comal, he turned to David. “Give me another 10 minutes, ok son?” David grumbled and sat at the dining room table, head in arms as he tried to fall back asleep.

Gabe found David’s behaviour a little off. Sure, his son was exhausted, but even at this state, David would make an effort to speak. As a father, he told his son that he has to express what he’s feeling, for his and others sake. As an Alpha, he always emphasized that a leader must communicate to his followers, lest they lose respect for him.

(Not that he listens to either piece of advice. David is still the closed off boy from his youth, scared to express his feelings for a certain white wolf lest he makes a fool of himself. And despite his best attempts, David still relied on his father when it came to pack business, not comfortable enough in his role as Beta to voice his concerns. He only wishes he’ll be alive to see his son blossom into the man he knows David can be. Or at least be Darlin’s father-in-law.)

A quick sniff of the air had Gabe recoil. There was a sharp, alcoholic smell in the air, and it was coming from David. So either he got a cut that needed to be cleaned. Or his son decided to do a little bit of day drinking. Judging by his tired voice and vampire-like aversion to light, he’ll bet on the latter. Not that he was mad at him for it.

Walking over to David, Gabe put the plate of pupusas and a cup of water on the table. “Here you go, kid,” he said while ruffling his hair. “Eat up and you’ll feel a whole better.” He walked back to the kitchen to clean up the dirty dishes. He eyed his son, thinking about what, or who, could convince hiss on

David whined, moving his head in what looked like a nod. With what little strength he had left in his arms, he picked up the pupusa in his hand. But before he could open his mouth and take a bite, he grumbled and put it down. Turning his head to Gabe and squinting his eyes at the light, David slurred out, “Sorry Dad, can’t eat right now.”

Now David was not like other boys his age. He preferred to study over going out to parties and he took his duties as Beta so seriously that you would have thought his life depended on it. The fact that he came home even the slightest bit inebriated was already enough cause for suspicion. But the one thing he had in common with most boys, especially shifter boys, was their appetite. David could and will eat everything in sight, even more so when stressed. It was the reason Gabe made pupusas in the first place for him.

The fact that David wasn’t eating, especially his favourite meal, meant that something was very, very wrong.

Through the bond as Alpha and Beta, or through their bond as father and son, David waved his hand casually, a way to quell the worry building up in his father. “Don’t worry, dad. Darlin’ gave me some soup to drink.” With that, David got up with immense effort, and stumbled on to his room.

Gabe knew of Darlin’s habit of… making impulsive decisions that landed them in interesting situations. He still remembers that one time he had to grab them from Vancouver because they wanted ‘Tims.’ He also knows that they wouldn’t drag the pack into a situation that they deemed dangerous, opting to deal with it on their own. He hopes that one day, they’ll break that habit and rely on the pack.

He has enough trust in them to not make David do anything stupid. In fact, he’s thankful that they bring David out of his comfort bubble. With them, he feels comfortable enough to make the stupid decisions that he’ll cherish when he’s older. That being said, it didn’t hurt to shoot them a call to see what was going on. (He’s a little salty that the pupusas are going to go cold.)

Picking up his phone from the counter, he dialed Darlin’s number. After a couple of rings, the wolf in question picks up the phone.

“Hey, fluffball.”

“Whatever happened, I didn’t do shit.”

He chuckled, not surprised by the wolf’s suspicion. “Of course. You do know that I’ll take your side no matter what, right?” He shook his head at the silence, disappointed in Darlin’s continued belief that he has no faith in them. But this is for a different time. “Reason I called you was because David came home drunk. And he said that you told him that he couldn’t eat…”

He could feel Darlin’s apprehension across the line with the way their breath hitched and quickened. They were already expecting another lecture. “I’m not mad, fluffball. I just need to know why my son didn’t eat any of my pupusas.”

Darlin’s breath calmed down, but the nerves were still present in their voice, “Uhh… well… I may have given David a… piercing?” They laughed nervously, not knowing what Gabe’s reaction might be.

Luckily for them, and obviously for him, Gabe didn’t mind that his son got a piercing. For starters, it was his body, and David could do whatever he wanted with his body. He was his own person and Gabe has enough faith in him to make the right decisions. (Even if some of those decisions tend to be clouded by love and lust.) He was more shocked that Darlin’ was able to convince him to get a piercing of any kind. As a business major, David always made sure his appearance remained corporate friendly, and piercings are anything but that.

A loud laugh erupted from Gabe, his mind concocting all the scenarios that would have let his son make that decision. “I got two questions for you, kid. What kind of piercing did you give him and how on earth did you manage that?”

“I gave him a tongue piercing- but I promise that I was super safe! Ain’t no way it’ll get infected unless he does something stupid.” Gabe didn’t have any worries about the process being safe and sanitized. “As for why… um… that might be a story for later.”

“Like on your wedding day?”

He found great amusement in seeing Darlin’ stutter out a response, trying to find a way to dismiss and deny that thought. It was hard to fluster them, their resolve was strong as iron, but bringing up David never failed to break them a little. Around the rest of the pack, they were reserved, reluctant to integrate themselves. With David, Darlin’ could be the carefree kid that Gabe had heard plenty of stories about.

Now if only both of them can get their asses out of their heads and confess before he gets any grey hairs would be greatly beneficial.

“Relax, I’m only teasing,” he reassured, “But seriously. You need to tell him how you feel. For both of your sakes.” As adorable as it was watching David and Darlin’ pine for each other from a distance, he knew that it was causing them both unnecessary heartache. “The only way to resolve this, relationship or not, is by talking about your feelings. I promise it’ll leave both of you better off.”

“Yeah, I get that… But what if?”

Gabe didn’t need rocket science to know that their mind was being dragged off to a hundred different hypotheticals, combing through each scenario to figure out where everything would go wrong. He doesn’t blame them, he’s well aware of Darlin’s rough homelife to understand why they’re so cautious, even if he doesn’t know the specifics.

He just wishes that for once, they give the same level of consideration to the positives that they do to the negatives.

“I know it’s easier said than done, but just think about it. Okay kid?”

They sighed on the other end, and he deluded himself into thinking it isn’t a dismissive sigh. “I’ll try.”

He thanked Darlin’ and said his farewells, making sure to remind them to come to the next pack meeting. He could hear their eyes roll from across the line, but is thankful that they’ll abide in his request. Gabe noted that their confirmation of their appearance at the meeting was said in a more confident tone than their agreement to talk to David.

Putting the phone down, he rubbed his hand over his stubble. Dealing with emotionally reserved people was always a challenge, for one wrong step could lead to eternal broken trust. But Gabe knew in his heart that if David and Darlin’ would just sit down and talk, it would lead them both down a path of lifetime joy.

He just hopes he’s alive for the day that happens.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fanfic #redacted gabe #redacted david #redacted darlin #we were robbed of gabe making fun of david for his crush on angel #but i can use him to make fun of david and darlin teehee #zo writes tingz #this is zo speaking

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marvelmaniac715 · 1 month

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I started writing this post at exactly 23:06 PM just to plan out what I wanted to say and to make sure I wasn’t rushing when the time actually came. Wow, that sounds super dramatic, I’m not like deleting my account or anything, this is a happy post, I promise.

At the time of writing, I am 16, but when I post this at midnight exactly, as many of you will know because I haven’t stopped going on about it, I will be 17. Yep, I was born at midnight, and fun fact - there was a debate at the hospital over whether I was born on the 28th or 29th of May then it was settled by a nurse who decided on the 29th, so I was causing drama even at birth.

Not getting into it too deeply, doctors didn’t expect me to live past the age of 2 because of a variety of health complications (turns out quite literally being born dead - long story - doesn’t give you a long life expectancy in a doctor’s eyes), and I nearly died on numerous occasions as a child because my body hates me, but now I’m turning 17, so that showed them, didn’t it?

I feel like I’ve learnt a lot about myself this year, I mean I’ve written loads of fanfiction, I’ve become more open about my love of Starkid, I discovered an undying passion for David Tennant and I’ve binged all or most of two shows (Glee and Doctor Who) that I’ve centred a lot of my personality around. I’ve even signed up for work experience and written my first CV, whilst attending college, which is so insane.

I honestly don’t know why this post is so long, maybe I just had a lot to say? Before this post comes out I’ll have written and published my final fanfiction of my 16th year, just to end this chapter of my life the right way, so jump onto AO3 for angst (I may be filled with joy and excitement but angst is my best genre to write for some reason).

Thank you to all of my wonderful friends I’ve met on here for being so kind and welcoming this year, a lot of you have been part of the Starkid/fanfiction community for longer than I have, and you’re all just really cool to me. If you want to join in my birthday celebration today, I will be wearing a scrunchie in honour of my queen Heather Chandler, so I’ve made it Marvel’s Scrunchie Day, just tie your hair up with one of the best hair accessories known to man and you’ll be part of the fun (absolutely not a requirement/compulsory, I’m not out here trying to choose what you wear, it’s just a fun/cute thing that I’d like to do).

So yeah, it’s my birthday, I’m really excited and I’m probably going to sleep soon, thank you for reading this epically long post (it’s been 12 minutes since I started writing), you’re all amazing!

#birthday #long post #personal #marvel’s scrunchie day #so excited

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leonardalphachurch · 6 months

Text

@redvsbluesecretsanta present for @thetality !

sorry that she is late chronic fatigue has been absolutely kicking my ass please give love to @donut-entendre who without his help i would not have been able to finish this 🙏

thetality asked for something with theta and/or caboose so i decided to go with modern au fluffy bonding stuff. bc the world needs more theta caboose friendship

(also available to read on ao3)

***

Waffles Time

Theta wakes up at 3am scared and alone. Caboose takes it upon himself to make them feel a little less alone.

This can only mean one thing: it’s waffles time.

Blink. Blink blink.

Theta rubbed the sleep out of their eyes.

Wait.

Theta rubbed the sleep out of their eyes?

Oh.

Their mind was quiet, but for a buzzing of anxiety and stress. No one else was there. No welcoming. No arguing.

They looked around. The time on their watch read 2:35. AM. A message popped up. An unknown number.

They looked around. Their phone lay on the floor across the room. Even from their place on the bed, Theta could see the screen had been shattered. A dent in the wall above it.

Oh.

Theta took off their watch.

It wasn't long before footsteps lingered in the hall, pausing in front of their door.

"Church?"

Oh no.

Theta didn’t want to talk to Alpha’s friends. They didn’t want to have to answer questions and be looked at and judged and—

“Um. Please go away please.”

“Yeeeaaah... No… Are you okay? Did you also have a nightmare? Because…"

Theta fumbled for the lamp, flicking it on and wincing at the sudden brightness. Their things were a little bit everywhere.

“... but I get those all the time. Sometimes my dad dies again and-"

Boxers. Why did Alpha have to sleep in just a night shirt and boxers? The leg of a pair of sweatpants poked out of a pile on the bed. They quickly pulled it on.

“... I always hate the marshmallow dreams because Tucker always eats them all and there isn't any left… Hey, you're really quiet today!”

Oh, right. Alpha wasn’t very nice to his friends, was he.

“No I’m very normal!” Theta shouted at the door, “um. Fff.. fuck, you.” They winced at their own words.

The doorknob clicked horribly as the man pushed in.

Theta ducked under the covers. “Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry.”

“Oh, you don't have to be sorry for locking the door! It was already broken - which wasn't anyone's fault - Did you forget again? I can remind you any time."

That… wasn’t why they were apologizing. But for some reason, it did help ease Theta’s worries. They peeked out from under the covers.

Towering over the bed was Caboose, complete with messy bedhead and big warm pajamas. He looked down at Theta with a large, sleepy grin. When Theta just kept staring back, his expression got contemplative.

Should… should they say something?

But there was no need, as Caboose seemed to suddenly realize something. “Oooohh.... You're the little one!”

“Um….” Theta considered lying, but they would never make a convincing Alpha. “Maybe…”

“Hello little Church!” Caboose launched himself onto the bed, bouncing a little as he landed.

Theta jumped backwards, “Um! H-hi…”

“You don’t have to run away, Little Church, we’re not playing hide and seek.”

“My name is Theta…”

“Okay. You don’t have to run away, Theta, we’re not playing hide and seek.”

“I, I know.” Theta tried to relax. Caboose wasn’t a threat. This they knew. Memories of Alpha’s friends were fuzzy and incomplete, but the emotions bled through. And the emotion Theta felt the most when looking at Caboose was an overwhelming sense of trust.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t loud, though.

“Can you, um, sorry, um,” Theta tried to communicate their desires without words. Caboose just stared at them, waiting for the words to come. “I… need a shirt.”

It wasn’t what they’d meant to say, but it worked. Theta really wasn’t comfortable with any amount of awareness of the whole “having a body” thing, and wearing just a nightshirt didn’t help with that.

“Oh, yeah I can help with that!”

In one swift motion, too quick for Theta to protest, Caboose had removed his sweater and stuffed it over Theta’s head.

Church’s body wasn’t small by any objective measures, but compared to Caboose…

As Theta pushed their hands through the sleeves, far too large for them to even reach the ends, they felt absolutely tiny.

It was nice.

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome!”

Caboose looked incredibly pleased with himself, sitting there now in just his own undershirt. Theta wondered if he was cold. Maybe they should give the sweater back. Alpha had a lot of shirts, they could wear any one of those.

As they started the offer, Caboose interjected, “Are you hungry?”

Theta paused. Were they hungry? Interpreting the body’s signals wasn’t always easy. Maybe that buzzing of anxiety was actually a buzzing of hunger. Only then did they notice the half eaten bag of chips on the bedside table. Was whoever last fronted recently snacking?

“I think I’m hungry, yeah.”

“Good! Let’s get Church to make us waffles.”

“Um.” Theta didn’t know what to say to that. They thought all of Alpha’s friends knew how it worked by now. This was the fear. The questions. The judgement. They didn’t know how to be someone else. “I don’t know. Um. Sorry I don’t think. Sorry I don’t. Sorry.”

Caboose stared at them as they nervously stammered out apologies. Finally, something seemed to click.

“Oh! Hm. I guess that doesn’t work. Hmmmmmmmm. Well… We can make it ourselves!”

“Oh… I don’t know how to make waffles…”

“I do! Let’s go!” Caboose announced as he leaped out of bed, racing out of the room.

“W-wait!” Theta scrambled to follow him. They really didn’t want to get out of bed, but they didn’t really want to be alone, either. Nervous to cross the threshold, they hesitated at the door frame.

“Um,” they called to Caboose, peeking slightly out of the door to see where he went, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to cook by ourselves!”

"Yes, it is an awesome idea!" Caboose declared, hanging from the doorway to catch his momentum. "We’ve got blueberries and strawberries and whipped cream and chocolate chips..."

He ducked into the room, his voice fading off, “And goldfish and cheese and mashed potatoes and blueberries and…”

Theta balked as he disappeared. “I wasn’t worried about the toppings…”

They definitely weren’t allowed to cook something at 2:30am… right? They tried to listen to their head, again. To call out to anyone there. Nothing. They wanted Delta, or Epsilon, or even Gamma. Someone in charge. Someone who could take care of things. Someone who could take care of them.

They thought back to the shattered phone on the floor. The message from the unknown number. Why had they fronted? Alone? The buzz of anxiety grew louder. Maybe they should go get their watch. They didn’t know who was texting them, but it clearly wasn’t good. Maybe it would be so not good it could trigger someone else out. Maybe they wouldn’t have to be alone—

“Here!”

Theta jumped at Caboose’s return. They’d been so caught up in their own thoughts they didn’t hear him approach. They blinked as they tried to reground themself, taking in the sight of the large man before them.

Caboose had grabbed a shirt identical to the one he was just wearing, that Theta was now wearing, and he was holding a…

Oh my gosh.

In Caboose’s outstretched hands was a large, LARGE bear plushie. Its huge, round belly was almost the size of Theta’s entire torso. But it’s head, oh man, it’s head was tiny. Barely the size of their fist. It’s arms and legs were stuffed at its sides, the proportions all out of whack. It’s fur looked like the softest thing Theta had ever felt.

It was incredible.

“Wow…”

“And gummy bears!” Caboose wiggled the bear at Theta, its limbs so filled with stuffing they barely flopped around.

“What?”

“We can put gummy bears on the waffles.”

“Oh…” Theta looked at the oversized bear. “Um, then what about?” They gestured at it.

“Oh!” Caboose looked down at the stuffed animal in his hands, almost looking surprised Theta had brought it up, as if he had forgotten it was there. “This is Big Fuck.”

“B- oh.” Maybe Theta would just call it Big.

“I thought he could be your friend. But not your best friend, since we are already best friends."

Theta took the bear— took Big— from Caboose.

“Okay. He doesn’t have to be my best friend, you can keep him."

Caboose tilted his head like a puppy.

"I was talking about you, silly."

“… I’m your best friend?”

"Yes, see, because Church is my best friend, you get part ownership because you are like a little him. And that's how stocks work!"

Theta clutched Big tight to their chest. They didn’t think that was how stocks worked, or how friendship worked but…

“Thank you.”

It was nice to have a friend.

“Yeah! And best friends make each other waffles. Let’s go!”

***

“Are you sure this is all okay to put in waffles?”

“Yes, definitely.”

Theta was sitting on the kitchen table, Big clutched in their lap. Their head peeked out over his, looking at the display Caboose had laid out in front of them. Plates and boxes and bags of junk food, candy, chocolate, frozen fruit, sauces. Leftovers. Theta didn’t think a lot of these things would be yummy. Or could even be cooked.

“Yeah, I’m basically an expert in waffles,” Caboose said, shaking the bottle of Bisquick furiously. You have to do it as fast as possible, he’d said earlier, right before shaking the loose cap off and splattering batter all over the kitchen. Tucker will clean that up later.

Theta plopped another marshmallow into their mouth. Their sticky hands had already left some mats in Big’s fur, but someone would probably clean that up later, too. Probably.

Now, though, they were just having a fun time hanging with their friend.

“Mmm. Okay. I trust you.”

“Good! Watch.” Theta watched as Caboose poured the batter onto the waffle iron. It glooped out, overfilling the squares.

“Cool. Now what?”

Caboose gestured towards the display. “Now you put stuff in it!”

Ooooh yes. This was what Theta was looking forward to. They delicately placed Big onto a chair before going, what some might call, absolutely feral. Some logical part of them said that grabbing handfuls of every sweet that adorned the table and throwing it onto the uneven batter probably wouldn’t end up with a good waffle, but they ignored that part. After all, they were Theta, not Delta.

“Okay! Done.”

Caboose appraised their mountain of sugar-y goodness with serious consideration. Theta grabbed Big again, suddenly nervous about their creation. Caboose narrowed his eyes. Theta held their breath.

“This…………. is a good waffle.” He slammed the iron shut with what was probably way too much force. Even still, Theta beamed.

It didn’t take long until the smell of burnt caramel started wafting from the machine.

“Is that okay…?”

Caboose nodded sagely. “That’s how you know it is going to be good.” In a swift motion, he extricated the waffle from its burning home, planting it squarely on the table.

Theta didn’t think it was supposed to look like that. There was burnt chocolate and bubbling gummies and melted hard candies and uncooked batter. It didn’t get to look ugly for long, though, as Caboose helpfully started pouring on syrup and chocolate and whipped cream.

Theta hadn’t seen this much sugar in their whole life.

“Bone app to eat!” Caboose pushed the waffle in front of Theta.

They grabbed it with both hands (ow. still a little hot.) and took a bite.

Oh….

It wasn’t what most would call “good.” The flavors clashed in ways Theta didn’t have the words to describe, but which Sigma might’ve called “offensive” or “an affront to nature.” But still. It was interesting, and it was sweet, and they were having a lot of fun trying not to spill sugar all over Big’s tummy, so maybe Caboose was onto something.

Caboose looked pleased with Theta’s reaction. They could only guess their expression was some mixture of disgust and intrigue, but they kept eating it, so maybe that’s what Caboose was going for.

Caboose started on his own creation.

Or maybe, Theta thought as they watched him work, “creation” was a generous word for it. Maybe Sigma would call this one “monstrosity.”

Caboose systematically grabbed every single topping they’d laid out on the table. He seemed to consider all of his options with great importance, putting some straight onto the iron, some into the bottle, yet others on the side, presumably to be added later. Once he was happy with his choices, he took the bottle again (being very careful, Theta noted, to make sure the cap was on fully this time) and shook with an incredible vigor. The items on the pan continued to sizzle. He emptied the bottle’s contents into the iron, squeezing to get it out as quickly as possible. Goop dripped over the sides. The ingredients that had been saved for later had now found their later, triumphantly thrown onto the pile.

It was way too tall to be closed, Theta thought.

Well, apparently, they thought wrong.

With somehow even more force than he’d used for Theta’s, Caboose acted like a hydraulic press, crushing the lid into its bottom. And, much like the greatest hydraulic press videos, mess squeezed out the sides in a spectacular fashion.

Theta chewed idly while the scene played out before them.

Caboose gave a thumbs up, his other hand still holding the iron down as it continued to cook.

If before it smelt like burnt caramel, this was just burn. Theta crinkled their nose.

And nearly jumped out of their skin when the fire alarm went off.

Caboose looked at it, both annoyed and quizzical. “I thought I took the life out of you.” He reached up, easily able to pull the alarm off the ceiling, and dumped the batteries out.

He turned back to Theta, “That is how you know it will be really good!”

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Theta jumped again, clutching Big even tighter to their chest.

There, standing in the hallway, was Tucker, wearing nothing but a nightcap and a blanket.

Well, maybe there was more to describe there, but Theta wouldn’t know, as their eyes were suddenly covered by Caboose’s large hands.

“Tucker! Put some clothes on! There is children here!”

“What??? What are you talking ab— Dude, get the fucking—!”

Theta heard a scuffle. They tried to pry Caboose’s hands away from their eyes, but the man was too strong.

“Hey! Don’t touch my waffle!”

“You’re gonna burn the fucking apartment down!”

“I am not! I know how to contain a fire, Tucker. Excuse me,” Caboose removed his hand from Theta’s eyes and turned to them, “Hold this please.” He grabbed Theta’s hand and put it over their own eyes.

Theta stayed like that for a moment. Then they remembered that they could remove their hand themself, and felt a little silly.

The waffle iron was now unplugged and slightly smoking. An annoyed looking Tucker waved the cord at an equally annoyed looking Caboose.

“You are ruining waffles time.”

“Yeah, like a fire wouldn’t?” Tucker rolled his eyes, then turned towards Theta. “And what the fuck are you even doing?”

Theta’s blood turned to ice.

“I-”

“Do not yell at Theta.”

Caboose was a very large man. It was easy to forget, with his genial demeanor, just how much bigger he was than everyone else. How much stronger he was than everyone else. As Tucker’s eyes widened and he took a step back, staring at Caboose’s uncharacteristically stoic expression, he was certainly remembering.

It was a little nice to have the strong person be the one protecting Theta.

A wave of confusion washed over Tucker’s face as he registered what Caboose had said. “Theta…?” He looked over at them, in Caboose’s oversized pajama shirt, still clutching Big like it was a lifeline, still looking absolutely terrified. And confusion was replaced by realization.

“Oh, shit— uh, shoot, uh— fuck—” Tucker looked down at his blanket, the only thing covering his body, now even looser than it was earlier. He pulled it tighter.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” He whispered at Caboose.

“I said to put on pants.”

“That’s not— look, just,” Tucker sighed, then looked towards Theta, “Don’t eat that, okay?” He pointed at their waffle.

“But we’re hungry!” Caboose protested.

Tucker groaned. “I, will make you guys…” Tucker looked at the waffle iron. A bit of batter filled with leftover chicken and gummy worm slopped onto the counter. It continued to smoke. “Pancakes. Just, go into the living room and let me get dressed.”

“Okay!” Caboose happily bounded away, as if this was his desired outcome all along.

Theta looked down, sheepish. “Sorry…”

Tucker sighed, “It’s fine. This is nowhere near the worst it’s gotten.”

Theta looked up at the batter on the ceiling. Tucker followed their gaze.

He laughed. “Yeah, still not the worst.”

“Okay…” Theta got up from the counter, trying to make themself as small as possible.

“Hey.”

They froze. They looked at Tucker, bracing themself for scolding, yelling, reminders of how terrible they were for letting something like this happen.

But when Tucker spoke, it was soft.

“Next time, just wake me up, okay?” He looked exasperated, but, somehow, Theta could tell he was being genuine.

They nodded.

“Okay.”

Tucker smiled, and went to get dressed, and Theta went to go meet Caboose in the living room.

He was already sitting on the couch, flipping through some list of shows.

“Do you wanna watch something?”

“Um, whatever you want.” Theta plopped down on the couch.

“Okay! I will watch… Pokémon.”

“You like Pokémon?”

“Oh, yeah, sometimes me and Church watch it when Tucker isn’t home.”

“Oh… I didn’t know Alpha still liked Pokémon.”

“Yeah… I don’t know who Alpha is but… Pokémon is good.”

“Um, yeah, it’s my favorite.”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Are you… gonna put on the show?”

“Okay!” Caboose clicked the remote, opening to some random episode in the Gen V seasons. Theta didn’t know the episode, but they could tell because of the art style.

“All right,” Tucker called from the kitchen, “you guys are getting chocolate chip pancakes and that’s it.”

“BUT TUCKER!” Caboose immediately jumped up in his seat. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT! IT’S WAFFLES TIME!”

“You almost burned the house down! I’m not hearing it!”

Caboose bounded over the back of the couch to go yell at Tucker in the kitchen. Leaving Theta alone on the sofa.

Alone.

Theta was alone. They didn’t hear anyone in their mind. Their thoughts drifted back to the cracked phone, the unread message. What had caused them to be here alone in the first place.

But, as they turned around to look back at their friends, arguing over blueberries, as they clung to the largest teddy bear they’d ever seen, supremely sticky with sugar and syrup, as Pokémon blared in the background, a connection to their host they didn’t know they had…

Maybe they weren’t all that alone, after all.

#rvb #red vs blue #michael caboose #theta rvb #chromatic writing #caboose #theta

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grappel-writes · 9 months

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Entirely indulgent Astarion cuddles.

Orion and Astarion share a night together, absolutely nothing happens, and it's wonderful. Happens some days after tiefling party, but before confession. No major spoilers. Read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49728328/chapters/126922852

Getting out of bed without waking a partner is an art Astarion mastered over a century ago. He knows all manners of sleep patterns, how to tell when they're good and well out, and how to slowly slip his legs away first. He could slink out of even the heaviest blankets and creakiest beds unnoticed. So when Orion rouses with his clumsy attempt, he's left with the confronting truth that it was intentional. He could make excuses, half-elves were prone to light sleeping, after all. Cursed with both the exhaustion of a human and the flitting not-quite-dreams of an elf. But he knows that, really, he wanted this to happen.

The half elf in question props up onto an elbow, rubs an eye, and Astarion's expecting his sleep gravelled voice to ask where he's going or wish him good hunting. What he isn't expecting is the gentle, warm hold on his bicep. The tanned, bruised hand a stark contrast to the white fabric under it. "Do you have to go?" Orion mumbles, Astarion stays silent. "I wanted to wake up with you in the morning..."

The vampire freezes, heart stabbed through and aching. A recent affliction that's come with the new life and tenderness granted to it. Damnable thing. He places a hand over Orion's, meaning to gently push it off, explain that this was a sweet sentiment, but he can't do that. As soon as they touch, he loses all conviction. Why not? It's what he wants, to stay like this. Even if it's terrifying. To leave himself vulnerable in the night so he could indulge in this part of his freedom, too. His survival instinct tells him to run, but he can't bring himself to do it. Orion has given him an opportunity to surrender, safely, so he can be known. After the night earlier, with each second it seems easier to stay.

When they came back to camp for the day, Orion had swapped out the single cot in his tent for a larger, sharable bedroll. A message not unnoticed when he hauled the thin futon out of the wagon they found it in and all but proudly paraded it across camp. But instead of asking Astarion for a repeat performance of their prior nights together, he merely asked if they could sleep together. And just sleep. Asked it like it was more scandalous than what they had already done, like a guilty pleasure he should be ashamed of. Not making eye contact, fidgeting with the clasp of his greaves as if he didn't know them like the back of his hand. It was… sweet. The expectation of denial was written all over Orion's face, and even though he knew it was a bad idea, opened too many complicated doors, Astarion acquiesced. How could he deny a man making a bed for him?

There was a suspicion that it was a ruse to get him undressed and alone, and then his partner would surely try to move the night to something more. But that didn't happen either. Instead Orion turned down the blanket for them both, was careful not to crowd Astarion when he leaned over to tie the tent shut for the evening, lantern was snuffed, and he even asked if there was anything Astarion needed before bedding down for the night. While Orion almost always slept without a shirt, tonight he did, and Astarion now saw that was to communicate his remarkably boring, but appreciated, intentions.

It was strange getting comfortable at first, and Astarion realized with a dark laugh at himself that it was because this was the first time he could recall he had ever gotten into bed with someone without one or the other pulling at clothes on the way in. He wouldn't admit that to Orion, of course, would lead to far too many compromising confessions. Thoughts of other nights, other beds tucked away, they maneuvered quietly. Orion was clearly too exhausted by the day to even make any pointed glances, flirty remarks, or accidental touches. Or maybe this was all he wanted, companionship. He took off his jewelry, stretched, and took his side of the bed with an uncharacteristically quiet routine. Astarion followed suit, not sure what to make of the comfortable silence between the two of them.

Orion sighed gratefully once he finally got the blanket pulled over them both, turned to the other, arm under his pillow. "Wish this could've been my bed at home… I miss it. Almost as big as this tent, and a hell of a lot softer." Astarion shifted a few times until he decided that mirroring Orion would be the most comfortable for now, and he could see if his bed partner moved in any way to touch or come closer.

"I wish it was, too. I envy you. My own was a touch smaller than this, and about as comfortable." His eyes scanned over Orion's open, tired expression. No teasing, no banter, just their near whispered voices. "Wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to share the room with at least four other spawns at a time. But, if we do this right, I'll never have to do that again." "Never again. Don't get used to this, got nothing but huge feather beds in your future." He said it as if it was so simple, so plain. Even stifled a yawn as he did. "Is it alright sharing with just one other person for now?" "I won't lie, having that giant bed of yours to myself some day would be nice, but lacking that. Yes. This is more than fine." Warmed by Orion's thoughtfulness or just with lowered defenses in this intimate setting, he pushed brown curls off of Orion's face, earned himself a one dimpled, sleepy smile in return. "Kicked out of my own bed? Fine, if that's what you want…" "Maybe. I might allow you back sometimes, if you're good." Orion's eyes are already drifting closed, "whatever you need."

Astarion watches him fight his exhaustion, promising him sweet nothings the entire time. Warmth glowed in his chest, unrelated to his earlier meal, and those compromising confessions became harder to ignore. "Go to sleep, Orion. Your bed will be one day closer." "Mhmm. You too. Good night, Astarion." Such a simple sentiment shook the vampire to his core, only left more perplexed when Orion proceeded to turn over and leave his back to him. Exposed, trusting. He laid there for a moment, watched the slow rise and fall of his shoulders, before pressing a kiss that carried more gratitude than Orion would ever know between the man's shoulder blades. "Good night, my sweet."

Then, he again mirrored the fighter, turning to face away from him. He stared blankly forward, unseeing. Nothing to look at but canvas. He was safe here. Surrounded by Orion's things, his scent, back to back with him, there was no duty or task to fulfill. It was daunting, a great wide void of choice loomed out in front of him. Now that he could decide, what did he want?

Even if the answer seemed obvious, he took his time to consider it, and decided he wanted more of whatever this was. So he pushed himself back, and when he just barely bumped Orion's shoulder with his own, the fighter moved back to meet him, too. Orion shuddered, even through the layers of clothes, Astarion's cold. But Orion reached behind him, a firm touch on Astarion’s side kept him there. "We'll warm up…" He mumbled, and pulled the blanket higher over them both.

And eventually, they did. Pressed against each other, the vampire laid awake and felt it happen. Warmed by the other, by his blood beating through both of them, and the terrifying, complicated, tangle of affection and guilt that burned in his chest. But for now, for tonight, he let himself enjoy it. He indulged deeply in the chaste intimacy and let himself drift away to trance.

Now, awake after a blissful few hours of rest, the sun not yet up, he's left with only the guilt. And a beautiful, trusting man that just wants him to stay. Orion has no idea that this was all just a maneuver. He knows every stratagem and tactic for the battlefield, and nothing about people who could do all of that in bedrooms.

"You want to-...?" He scoffs, squeezes the hand on his arm. Remembers that first night together, how he woke up with Orion on his chest and the sun on his face. How it ruined him. He could do it again. And every morning he wanted to. Guilt be damned, it was time to face the harder emotions, he wouldn't let them keep him away from this light.

"Okay." He shifts back down into the bed, the half elf hums contentedly and turns towards him. A tanned arm falls over his side, and Astarion tenses. "Is this okay?" "...yes." No one had ever asked if it was okay before, no one asked if he was happy with what was happening to him. Things happened to him one way or another so why bother. But he was asked, because Orion wanted to know the answer, for just an arm over his side. And Astarion hurts.

The space between them now feels far too large and too cold. Again, Astarion presses back against his partner. Back flush against the chest of his protector and protected. The man who cares if he's okay laying in bed, being touched. Orion's arm tightens around him, legs curl together, and the vampire closes his eyes and lets himself be lost in this. He doesn't deserve it, and he's going to drink in every second before Orion figures that out.

Hours go by, and the red behind his eyes and the returning color of the things in the tent when he opens them let Astarion know that the sun is coming up. He curses it, curses the passage of time, holds gently to the arm over him and wills the sun to slow down or go away. That clouds will roll in, a thunderstorm will trap them, that Orion is never awoken by the daybreak. If he had ever wondered if Lathander was the one to hear his pleas, sending him a parasite to walk under his sun and a son to walk with him, he knew that by making this night end, that that surely couldn't be the case.

Just like he feared, his darling stirs behind him. Orion takes a deep, filling breath, and squeezes the vampire impossibly closer. A sleepy kiss is pressed on the cool skin of his neck, and Astarion releases any dread he had about the night being over. "Mornin'" He mumbles against the pale neck, and the sleepy smile can be heard in his words. "Good morning," Astarion breathes, letting his own happiness live here, too. "I don't want to get up." "Then don't." Holding Orion's arm tighter to his chest, he kisses the knuckles still split and bruised from the last fight. "I said I would stay, you have me until you're ready to go." The sincerity of it crushes him, what is he saying? "Don't say that. I'll send everyone else out to kill a cult and save a city without us." "Well they'd be doomed without you… That would make me the new villain of our little adventure." "Mm," he nuzzles into Astarion's back, seriously considering going back to sleep. "As long as it's you they're blaming and not me…"

Astarion huffs a quiet laugh, then lets their back and forth taper to silence. He's lost in the feeling of laying here for so long he really does wonder if Orion's gone back to sleep after all. He chances it: "Would you really like that? To just stay in bed all day?" "Hm?" Orion adjusts their pillows, stalling his answer. "Not by myself, I don't usually like to just waste a day, but with you…” he sighs, embarrassed, but if these feelings were nothing they wouldn’t be holding each other in bed right now. “I’d love to. Do nothing but lounge with the windows open, let the sea breeze come in. I’ll read over your shoulder, you can get frustrated when I can’t keep up with you.”

The vampire’s smile softens, he can picture it all too clearly. Slanted afternoon sun cascading over linens and thin house clothes, the breeze swaying the curtains around the window and on what he can only assume is Orion’s four poster bed. There’s a cat purring by their feet, and so many pillows. His lover glows in the sun as always, looking at him with nothing but trust and adoration. Astarion’s heart twists with how sudden and intense the want is. A life like this was never for him, he’d never even dare dream of it, but now that he has, it feels like it could be so close.

“Honestly, I could do it today. Not ideal in a tent, but I could make it work.” He clears his throat, and Astarion knows he's flushed without even having to see it, but he wants to anyway. He turns in his arms, happy to see reddened cheeks and tips of ears. That golden look off to the left, his tell for when he doesn't want to admit something. “The tentacle time bombs in our heads put a damper on things, too.”

Just laying in each other's embrace, quiet, enjoying each other. Could anyone be content with just that? Could he believe that Orion would? "Would you?" the fighter interrupts his distant look and far off thoughts. The distracted elf blinks, brought back, realizing he hadn't answered but instead just watched Orion's face in awe. "Lounging all day in a giant bed, you under an arm? All that would be missing is decent wine, and I could see myself being quite content, actually." Orion props his head onto an elbow, still with a shy smile. "Good." He looks to the left again, chewing his lip like he has more to say, but he releases it for now.

“People are going to start looking for us.” “I know, I should leave before they let themselves in to make sure you weren’t drained in the night.” Orion laughs, and looks like he’s going to kiss Astarion again, just on the shoulder where he’s closest, but he lingers and pulls away instead. It’s a loss when the arm around Astarion is now pushing the blanket off of them both. He hadn’t even realized how cold the morning was until now, without him.

The vampire follows suit, not going to be the one left looking like a jilted, wanting lover still in bed. He straightens his clothes out, the ones that miraculously, weirdly, stayed on all night while Orion stretches and rolls his shoulder. As Astarion unties the tent, debating how he'll react to curious looks that might be up early, he drops his voice. "I enjoyed this." Orion looks up, unfastening his shirt just to change it with the brightest, most excited grin. "I did too. Let's do it again sometime." "...yes, let's."

#astarion x tav #astarion x male tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #fluff #sharing a bed #orion

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corazondebeskar-reads · 7 months

Text

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter seventeen

well it's love, make it hurt series

seventeen: it's you I can't deny

series masterlist | prev chapter | epilogue

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Words: 4.7k

Summary: You and Din learn to know each other again.

Warnings: bdsm, d/s dynamics, enthusiastic consent, preestablished safeword etc, dom!din djarin x sub!reader, soft din djarin, din djarin is a good dad, long distance relationship, vaginal sex, oral (m & f receiving), communication, angst, major life decisions, author plays god with the timelines (sorry), canon adjacent?, canon divergence?, no use of y/n

a/n: my friends, this is the end. the epilogue will be posted on December 18.

i love you, and thank you for spending time with these two. it means more to me than you'll ever know.

also um just bear with me about what I've done to the canon timeline. it's only a little wonky.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

9 ABY - Fall

Despite his intentions, you don’t talk every day. It’s just not feasible. And maybe nights pass when you’re already asleep when he calls, but if it happens, he doesn’t mention it. You think he’s still afraid to scare you.

What scares you is how much you wouldn’t mind, and even that isn’t so frightening these days. This is easy, far easier than having to be stuck in hyperspace while you learn how to know him again.

When you ask him to tell you the story of how the kid became more than a bounty, you can hear the smile in his agreement. Can hear how glad he is that you want to talk to him, that you want to know.

He tells you the whole thing, and another night, he tells you about the Purge.

You didn’t ask about that one, could never have. It’s an awful, agonizing story, and it leaves you raw. But it feels important that he shared it with you, allowed you to take on some of his pain, and bear witness to his sorrow.

One night, after a few of radio silence, he calls to tell you he’s in a town on Tatooine. There’s a sick anger in his voice as he describes the man who was not a Mandalorian and the agreement they made.

“Should have just killed him and taken it,” you grumble.

“I think he might be a good man,” Din admits.

It’s high praise, you think, coming from him. He might be the only good man you’ve ever met.

He promises to call after, and you don’t worry, even when several days go by.

You don’t.

The way your body feels warm for the first time in days when he finally calls has nothing to do with it.

You roll your eyes at his story, of how Vanth almost ruined the whole thing by refusing the Tuskens’ drink, of how he blows off defeating a krayt dragon as something simple. It surely wouldn’t have been without him, from the sounds of it.

Later, when he tells you the full story, you take back all of the compliments you had given his strategy and competency. (But you forgive him. He wasn’t wrong, really. You weren’t ready to hear it then.)

9 ABY - Winter

You tell him the things you held close before. The things you kept stitched up, that you thought would make you more of a person than an idea, if he knew them.

Some of them were the building blocks you knew would betray you—the day your parents died. The first time you sucked cock for food. Your first kill.

Stories you’d never shared and tried your best to forget.

Moreso, though, you try to share the little things. The things that you wouldn’t have had to share before when you lived your days side by side.

You bitch about bounties.

You gossip about your neighbor Moshi’s on-again-off-again relationship with the Rodian couple down the street (they’re on again right now—you know because you get a lot less sleep lately).

You tell him how you went to the market for new shoes and came back with a little gorg-shaped instrument that makes croaking sounds for the kid instead.

(“How loud is it?” he asks, with no small amount of apprehension. “Loud,” you tell him with a grin.)

He sulks a little the next time he calls. He wanted to see you before moving on, but the next lead was time-sensitive and drawn out.

“That’s too bad,” you say, voice soft and low.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” He almost restrains the hope in his voice.

You’d laugh, but you’re honestly a little nervous. But it’s easier to say this than any of the other things haunting your mind during those sleepless nights. “Oh, I don’t know. Been thinking a lot about having your cock in my mouth again.”

There’s a strangled groan from the other side of the comm. “Cyar’ika,” he warns.

“You don’t want me to get on my knees for you?”

“I do, but I can’t talk about this right now.”

“You don’t have to talk,” you say. “You can just listen.”

In the end, he has to lock himself in the fresher. When he can’t help but cum, you think you might understand why he likes to have power over you.

He does promise to get you back for it, though. If it’s supposed to be a threat, it’s not a very effective one.

But Din being Din, he throws you off balance. “Don’t you dare touch yourself until I get there,” he says after. “If—if that’s still alright.”

A shudder runs through you. “Yes, sir,” you whisper. It aches in your throat on the way out, but you’re not afraid.

He means to tease you next time. Instead, you know something’s wrong as soon as he calls.

He deflects. He’s not ready to think about it, about Bo-Katan Kryze and what she had said about his people. You let him change the subject without pushing it, but he knows you’re not happy about it.

And he knows that not knowing will be worse for you. That you’ll think he just doesn’t want to talk to you. That you’ll simply shut him back out.

So he tells you. He tells you how angry he is at them for their disrespect. “It’s got to do with why our people were so divided before,” he admits. “I can accept that they have different beliefs about what it means to be a Mandalorian. But—”

“But they didn’t have to be such bitches about it! She straight up said ‘cult’?”

He laughs. Your righteous indignance soothes his anger. “You going to fight her for me, sweetheart?”

“What, you don’t think I could take her?”

“Well, she’s got head-to-toe beskar.”

“But she takes the helmet off, so all ll I have to do is punch her in the face.”

He can’t help but laugh again, grinning foolishly in the empty hull of the Crest.

“You know, you’re being pretty rude to someone ready to fight a trained warrior for disrespecting you.”

“I’m not. I just—thank you.”

“You’ve lost it.” You roll your eyes when he just laughs again.

“I might have,” he admits when he’s settled down. It wasn’t really funny, after all. But the abrupt switch from betrayed fury to the overwhelming affection made him feel happier than he had in a long time.

“Hey,” he says, suddenly soft and serious.

“What?”

“I miss you.” It was the first time he had said anything of the sort on these calls. But the danger of setting off your alarms, of causing you to run, seemed so much less these days.

You’re quiet for a moment. You let the feeling sink in and breathe through it. It’s okay, you remind yourself, it’s not a dangerous thing. He’s not asking you to run away with him.

He’s not asking you for anything.

“Yeah, I miss you, too,” you say. You’re quiet, like it’s a secret, and you guess it kind of was. A secret you’ve spilled now, and can’t just wash away.

He doesn’t know what to say. He said it because he wanted you to hear it, not because he ever imagined you’d admit it, too.

But he doesn’t have to figure it out. You surprise him again, and ask, “How far is Corvus?”

“From Batuu? I’m not sure. I’ll look it up later.”

“No, I meant from you, like how long until you get there.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going there first. I’m coming to you.”

“Are you sure? Don’t delay your mission just because I—”

“I’m not delaying it because you miss me. I’m delaying it because there’s time and I miss you. The nav was set before I called.”

You meet him at the docking bay. Well, you time your dinner around his estimated arrival, but it’s basically the same thing. A compromise you made with yourself.

Rather than waiting there, feeling stupid in public, or waiting in your apartment, still feeling stupid but alone, you’d just get something to eat. Still, you can’t help but watch out for the Crest on the horizon. When you spot it, the nausea you’ve been fighting in the four days since he told you he was coming returns tenfold.

It doesn’t take him long to find you, sliding into the seat beside you. It’s all very smooth, the way he wraps an arm around your waist and presses his helmet briefly to your forehead.

You flush and try to focus on your tip yip and grains.

“You know,” he says, letting you go so you can eat. “If you want to fight people for disrespecting me, start with the di’kut trying to pass that stew off as Mandalorian. It’s a joke.”

You cover your mouth when you laugh so you don’t drop rice all over. “Oh, I know. I told him there was no way it was really Mandalorian. It was edible. My face didn’t even come close to melting off.”

He shakes his head, bumping his shoulder against yours. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle it.”

“Maybe you’re just a bad cook.”

“You never complained about anything else I made.”

“Well, yeah, almost anything’s better than ration packs.”

“It’s supposed to hurt,” he insists. “That’s what makes it tiingilar. It can’t be called tiingilar if it doesn’t make your sinuses burn.”

You grin up at him, eyes bright, before the look falls abruptly off your face, and you turn back to your food.

He’s not sure what he’s done.

But you take a minute, take a breath, and swallow down the terror. “Sorry, I got a little overwhelmed. It’s still weird, you know. To see you,” is what you finally say.

“It’s okay.”

From anyone else, you’d bristle at the platitude, but from Din… well, you know he means it. It really is just okay. You set down your spork. “He asleep?” You nod at the closed pram.

“Yeah, just fell asleep before we landed. Should be out for a while.”

Another grin creeps across your face, sly and pleased. “So, we’ve got a few hours?”

His fingers twitch into fists for a moment. “You, um. Are you done eating?”

You laugh, standing up and closing the lid of the takeout box. By the time he stands, you’re walking down the road. “You coming or what?”

He catches up with you easily, the pram trailing silently behind. “You first,” he promises, taking your free hand in his.

After he parks the pram in the living room, he stops and studies you, head tilted. “We don’t have to,” he starts. “I didn’t—I want to spend time with you, it doesn’t—”

“Din,” your voice is soft as you approach him, winding your arms around his neck. “I don’t think you’ve been talking to me practically every night for months, all just to get your dick wet.”

“I don’t want to screw this up.”

You don’t know what to say, so you pull down on his neck until he leans forward. You press your forehead to his helmet.

His hands find your waist and hold tight. For a moment, you find peace in the solidity of him after only having his voice for so long.

His embrace feels like coming home.

After several reassurances that yes, you did want this, he finally beckoned you to your bedroom without a sound. You found yourself knelt between his thighs at the end of the bed, moving on instinct with him and reading his intent in the line of his body.

“Open,” he says, voice soft but firm.

You obey. The command has you a little dizzy, and how is this so easy? So easy to slip right back into your place at his feet, so easy to just listen.

“Oh, cyar’ika,” he lifts your chin with two gloved fingers, “You want to be so good for me, don’t you?” He’s close enough like this that you can hear the way he croons, voice velvet beneath the crackle of the helmet.

You give a small nod, not wanting to knock his hand away. He rewards you by sliding it up to cup your cheek in his palm. You waver, but don’t melt completely, not yet.

“I know,” he says, running his thumb over your tongue. The glove is rough and metallic, and you whimper with the effort of keeping your jaw stretched open, aching to take whatever he’ll let you. He chuckles, shoving it further into your mouth.

“Go on then,” he says with a slight tip of his helmet. Immediately, you wrap your lips around his thumb, gently licking and sucking on the coarse tip, pushing it deeper so you can reach the leather at his knuckle.

“That’s it. You feel better already?”

You groan around your mouthful, eyes falling shut. He shifts his grip on your chin to the other hand in order to thrust the digit deeper, brushing against the roof of your mouth. It tickles in the worst way, and you attempt to choke down the cough by swallowing more of him. He pulls his thumb from your mouth.

Your heart sinks, but the whine that sneaks out is muffled by two long fingers, two long, bare fingers that are unceremoniously shoved down your throat. He curls them a little, pressing down on the back of your tongue, and lets out a soft groan when you fight the urge to gag by swallowing hard, the soft walls clenching around his fingers.

“There you go,” he whispers, bringing the other hand—now also bared—to hold the side of your face. Between the feeling of his skin against your cheek and the salty taste of his fingers on your tongue, you don’t even notice as you start to slip. Eyes fluttering shut. Drool leaking between his fingers from your stretched lips. He continues to murmur, but you hear little beyond the rumble of his voice.

He taps his hand lightly against your cheek, just firm enough to be on the sharp side. You blink, taking in the way he’s leaning back, head cocked to the side. He pulls the fingers out of your mouth and just sits there for a second.

Oh kriff. He asked you something. “Um,” and your voice creaks a little, “what?”

He shakes his head, neither cruel nor dismissive. “Cyar’ika,” the baritone is a notch lower, “I need you to stay with me for now.” His thumb rubs circles on your cheek. “I’ll help you down when we’re ready.”

“Okay,” you say, little more than a whisper.

“What do you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” His cock throbs a little when a shudder runs through you at the praise.

He can’t wait any longer. He doesn’t think you can, either. You're staring at the line of his cock through his flightsuit.

Despite his urgency, he moves slowly, making sure you’re following his hands as they rub over his length through the fabric. He chokes back a moan and is rewarded for his silence by hearing yours.

Your mouth is still open. Waiting. Your hands are on your knees, fingernails digging in through your trousers.

He pulls his cock out, and you whimper, but don’t falter. “Look at you,” he murmurs, holding himself in one hand and your chin in the other.

He doesn’t make you wait longer, can’t. He holds you in place, groaning as he settles himself on your tongue.

You moan at the taste, and he takes the opportunity to grab your hair and thrust in. You gag but don’t tap out, instead pushing forward to take him deeper.

“Fuck,” he moans, already panting with the effort to hold back. He tries to hold still, to let you take what you need from him. He can feel the way you’re still trying to pay penance for a sin he doesn’t think you’ve committed. He doesn’t like it, but it’s less desperate than when you begged him to hurt you for it, so he lets you offer yourself this way. It’s safer, controlled.

And he can’t say he’s not enjoying being the focus of your worship.

You think fleetingly of him asking you to stay present, and grab at his hand while you drool around his cock. With his fingers in your grasp, you tug a little and whine, throat fluttering around him.

“Go ahead, ner kar’ta,” he says, clasping your hand in his and stroking the other through your hair. “I’ve got you.”

So when you start feeling like you’ll float away, you let it happen. Your mind quiets in the way only he has ever helped you achieve, and with his hands tethering you, you give yourself to him completely.

He fucks into your mouth roughly, now. You take everything he gives, and more, still licking and sucking when he allows. When he abruptly pulls out, you whine but don’t move, swaying a little where you kneel, eyes closed.

“Up, cyar’ika,” he says, and helps you climb onto the bed. You peer up at him as he arranges you how he wants, arms above your head with your hands clasped, knees bent and spread wide at the end of the mattress.

He turns the light off.

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper.

The hiss of his helmet follows. Your window is closed, curtains drawn, and no light sneaks into the room. His hands find your thighs and squeeze, reassuring you of his closeness, and giving you warning as he sinks to his knees and licks from your cunt to your clit with no hesitation.

His hands slide down to hold you open, and it doesn’t take long before you’re begging. You had already been soaked from sucking his cock, anyway.

He pulls back minutely. “I don’t know, cyare, you weren’t very nice, teasing me the other night.”

“Please, sir, I’m sorry,” you cry.

His thumb flicks at your clit. “I’m just teasing you, pretty girl. Cum all you want tonight. I’ve got five years' worth to collect.”

And who the fuck just says things like that? But you don’t consider it long, because the second his tongue is back on you, you cum, crying his name.

It sounds just as irresistible as he imagined. He’s already starving, but it makes him ravenous.

He pulls two more orgasms from you before he stands up and sheathes his cock in your warm cunt, swearing as you bear down around him, pulling him in.

“Such a good girl,” he bends over you, your legs around his waist, and presses his lips to every inch of your skin that he can reach. His teeth catch on the line of your neck and the curve of your breast before capturing your bottom lip, pulling you open for him to push inside your mouth. He consumes without restraint, gorging himself on your moans and cries.

When he buries himself as deep as possible and cums, you join him, enveloping him in the heat of your release. He stays rooted inside you, looming over you, as you shake and start to cry.

It’s wrong, though.

It doesn’t feel like the way you used to crack open under his fingers and let him carve out all your distress. It’s not a burst of catharsis or a moment of blossoming under the deluge.

“Cyar’ika,” he cups your cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you plead between sobs that wrack your whole body. “I’m sorry. I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

He carefully extracts himself and lays beside you, gathering you into his chest. “It’s okay. I understand,” he says, even though he thinks maybe something inside him isn’t going to survive this.

You don’t hold him back, arms folded into the space between you. But you do bury your face into him and sob until you can breathe again.

“Din,” you whimper. “I’m so sorry.”

“Can you tell me why?” he asks. He presses a kiss into your hair, though he knows he shouldn’t, not now.

You let out a shaky sigh that threatens to crack into a new round of cries. You shouldn’t let him; you should stop him, but the sobs get stuck in your throat and fade when he kisses you.

It gives you the nerve to speak. “I love you.”

He freezes, baffled. “What?”

“I love you, Din. I thought I could ignore everything and be happy with whatever you could give me, but I can’t do it again. I can’t.” You also can’t stop talking, now that you’re finally admitting it all to him and to yourself. “There’s no place for me in your life, and I just. I’m not doing that to myself. I can’t watch you leave again.”

“So come with me,” he whispers, both your hands clasped in his. It’s still flawlessly dark, but he has his sweaty forehead against yours, and you can feel the curve of his nose with your own. He steals a kiss. “Please, cyare.”

“My whole life is here,” you tell him again, but it feels like a lie with the way your lips chase his for more. Your apartment is here. Your possessions are here. But there wasn’t anything you couldn’t walk away from. That wasn’t really the issue.

“So keep it. Keep the apartment, the connections. We’ll come back after.”

“Din, I—” you try again. The words are scrambling to leave you, only restrained by the horrible anxiety of having to hear the truth spoken aloud.

“Tell me exactly what you’re afraid of, cyare. I can help. We’ve always been stronger together.”

“What happens after?”

“After what?”

“I don’t know. After. When you go home, and I can’t go with you. I can’t do the same thing again, Din; I’m not made for it. Not for what you’re asking me to give in between.” It wouldn’t—couldn’t be casual, this time. Not with the way his love for you has survived the last five years. And if you’re really honest, not with the way your love for him has survived, too.

It’s a petrifying thought. Except it isn’t quite. Not anymore. Maybe it’s why you’re confident in these boundaries, ready to admit you aren’t capable of the same untethered companionship. You’ve loved and lost him enough to know it has to be all or nothing.

And he can’t give you all. So it has to be nothing.

His shaky breath floods across your lips. “What if you could go with me?”

You sit back a little, but don’t pull your hands from his. His thumb is tapping against your knuckle. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m putting any pressure on you. I just want to—it’s just an option, okay?”

“What’s an option, Din? You’re making me nervous.”

He takes another deep breath with a slow exhale. “I think I’ve told you before, but being a Mandalorian is a Creed. A choice. There are no rules about who can or can’t swear it, as long as they’re committed.” He pauses, and when you don’t react, he adds, “and you can walk away at any time. It doesn’t have to be until death. You just can’t come back if you leave.”

You do let go of his hands, now. Not because you’re pulling away from him, but because what you think he’s trying to say is overwhelming. You bury your face in your palms and try to parse his words.

“I’m sorry, that’s—I shouldn’t ask that much of you.”

You put a finger up and remember that he can’t really see. “Shh, just give me a second, okay?”

You mull the concept around. It seems like such a monumental thought, an idea of incredible ridiculousness.

But really, what would change about your life? You would hunt. You would carry a small arsenal of weapons.

What would you lose? The ability to show your face?

It meant nothing in comparison to what you could gain.

“What if I went through everything, and then you decide you don’t want me?”

“That won’t happen.”

“Din. I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“No, ugh,” you grind your teeth. “I need to know, realistically.”

“Realistically? Then when you kick my ass for it, you’ll be in full beskar, and it’ll be a fair fight.”

You can’t help but laugh, even if it's a weak, shaky thing stolen from your breath.

“Cyar’ika. I have no intention of being apart from you if I can help it. But I promise that if something were to happen, there would still be a place for you with the Mandalorians. We don’t abandon our own.”

It doesn’t quite compute. He knows that. Knows the way that even before your parents died, there was no one else. Everyone always willing to cut you open and take. But, if you do this, you’ll learn.

And he wants so badly to give that to you. A family. One way or another.

He takes advantage of your silence, rolling onto his back and pulling you against him, tucked into his arm, where you should be. He kisses your hair and rubs a hand over your back, nails gliding gently over your shoulder blades. Every touch you let him steal while you think over his proposition gives him hope.

You’re not running. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

But you don’t answer him that night. Instead, you let yourself be lulled to sleep by his warm body and soothing motions. He takes it as a good sign when you drift off.

The kid wakes first in the morning. It’s for the best, since he forgot to put his helmet back on when he fell asleep. Din regretfully slips out of bed, tucking you in. He helps himself to your kitchen and starts a pot of caf before working up a breakfast.

He’s frying eggs when he hears you up and moving around the bedroom. He keeps to his cooking, trying to temper his expectations by reminding himself that you very well may slip out the window.

But you don’t. You come out of the bedroom and sit on one of the metal stools tucked under your countertop.

“Good morning, cutie,” you say to the baby, who is sitting in your sink with the faucet running, filling a bowl, and dumping it out over and over. The drain is open, making sure no water accumulates, and he seems fascinated by the flow. He abandons it, however, when he sees you, cooing and reaching his hands out to you.

“I don’t know, buddy; let me grab a towel first.”

Din tosses you one from your drawer without breaking away from his task.

“Look at that,” you tell the baby. “Like magic.”

Din snorts under the helmet. If only you knew.

Actually, he thinks, he should probably tell you.

But later. When he’s not struggling to keep focus, pretending like his hands aren’t shaking, like he’s not waiting while you hold his heart in your palms and decide what to do with it.

While you dry the kid off and let him climb on your shoulders and head, he plates the meal, setting his own aside.

The kid lunges for the plate, but you catch him. “No way, it’s still hot. Be patient,” you tell him.

Din catches himself staring right as you do.

“What?” you say.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head and pries the kid off you, untangling his little claws from your sleep-addled braid so you can eat in peace.

You thank him quietly when he sets the plate in front of you, and you start to eat, though you mostly just push the food around with your fork.

“Did you mean it?” you ask finally.

“Completely.” His voice is thick and heavy with hope.

“You want me to become a Mandalorian.”

It’s not a question, but he answers it anyway. “Yes. I want you to come home with me. I want to be by your side, always, if you’ll have me.”

You hum, falling back into thought, and eat your breakfast. When you’ve finished, you push the plate away and stand up. “I’m going to get dressed. Let me know when you’re done eating.”

He knocks on your door ten minutes later, having taken an extra few minutes to wash the dishes. When you open it, you’re in one of your go-to hunting outfits, and your pack is strapped to your back.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely. Take me home, Din.”

*title from "My Blue Heaven" by Taking Back Sunday

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian smut #dom din djarin #make it hurt verse

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