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cryptidghostgirl · 10 months ago

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hiii can i request a silly little scene i have in my head? ok so!

alastor x wife! reader- theyve been together since they were alive, legit partners in crime they both encouraged eachother to kill and when they reunited in hell after around 8 years they were independent once again UNTIL They got in trouble with Lilith and she took reader to be like her slave until Alastor finished helping Charie with her dream (until he helped prove that demons can be redeemed) so they didnt see each other for another 7 years (his absence)

And all throughout the first season hes like “I miss my wife, Husk. I miss her a lot” (while drunk-) like that one sonic dub meme and starts shaping his shadow creature into reader and talking to it and everyone is like “m yep he’s officially lost it.”

BUT then Sir Pentious is redeemed and Lilith sees and shes like “damn :/“ and send reader to the new hotel via portal and reader just. falls on the ground in front of the big entrance and everyone hears it and they rush out and Alastor is quiet, wide eyed and reader goes smth like “i know- i shouldnt have accepted it in your name but-“ blah blah she rambles on about it and Alastor just goes “Youre as beautiful as the day I los you.” LIKE THAT HEARYBREAKING SCENE FROM HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2 ;-; and everyone reacts in their own way

I REALLY NEED THIS BUT I LACK THE ABILITIES TO DO IT HEEELP (love u)

A/N oh bestie,, i got you. I was actually planning on something similar where Alastor was getting drunk at a bar and talking about the love of his life (I'm still gonna write that one too but I really like this prompt!!) You guys really come up with the best requests, please keep sending them in.

Fuel and the Fire (Alastor x Wife!Partner-in-Crime!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: ANGST also bad words (idk why i wrote the warnings like this). Also Angel Dust is in this one and I love him but he is a warning on his own.

Word Count: 2,392

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor and Y/n, partners in crime, the fuel and the fire. On a first glance, it would be assumed she was his fuel, the coal and dry leaves he fed himself by. Once anyone got to know them -- and god, what trouble a person was in if they got to know them -- they quickly realized it was the other way around.

Hand in hand from day one, from childhood. Running from the cops, washing the blood off one another's faces. In the living world and life after death, nothing could tear them apart. He was the soil she planted herself in, he was her rock and Y/n? Well she was Alastor's everything. He'd do anything at all for her, all she had to do was ask.

For a decade, they terrified the living world. They were the reason to double check the lock on the door before bed, they were the ominous shadow at the corner. When cold death wrapped them in his reckless grasp, they turned their terror on Hell.

The pair made a name for themselves quickly, filling up the airwaves and making waves in the underworld. For generations, they reigned supreme. For generations, they knew no fear. Then one day, they simply disappeared.

When Alastor reappeared on the streets seven years later without his shadow, the town was alight with gossip. No one knew where he had been, where she still was, or why he had returned but Alastor quickly rebuilt his operation, setting up shop at Lucifer's daughter's Hazbin Hotel along with several of the souls he owned.

The hotel's other residents and workers were distrustful of the man, to say the least. He was shifty, wore a constant smile, and rumors circled around him like birds of prey. That was until about three months into his stay, at least.

Angel hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He'd been coming down to the bar for a drink and a rant of his own when he'd heard the familiar, crackling voice of the Hotel's host.

"I just... I miss her so much, Husk."

He sounded sad, utterly dejected. Angel crouched down on the staircase, hiding his slim body behind one of the ornate posts supporting the railing.

"You keep saying that but do nothing to go find her. She disappeared the same time as you, you know." came Husk's gruff reply.

"I know she did."

"You keep saying that, acting like you know something. Admit it: you don't know shit, Alastor."

Alastor's radio waves faltered, squeaking slightly. Angel tensed in terror, wondering if he'd been found out. This was clearly a private conversation, and the Radio Demon was testy at the best of times. Right now he seemed positively furious.

"Don't test me, Husk." Alastor said after a moment, breaking the tense silence, "She... we both got roped into something. I am doing my part, she is doing hers."

Angel straightened himself up, deciding it was high time he entered the room. He still wanted that drink, after all. He let his feet fall heavily on the stairs, alerting the others to his presence. Husk turned toward the sound, meeting Angel's eyes as he entered the bar. Alastor, on the other hand, kept his back to the spider demon.

Taking a seat beside Alastor, Husk immediately poured Angel a drink and slid it across the counter towards him.

"So, tough night, Smiles?" Angel asked, turning to Alastor who downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my good fellow." Alastor hummed in response.

There was a threat in his voice, but Angel could tell the demon's heart wasn't in it. Everything was just, odd.

"Yeah... sure..." Angel scoffed, taking a sip of his own drink.

"Radio man was crying to me about his wife five seconds ago." Husk grumbled and Angel's eyes went wide.

"You have a wife?" he asked, turning back to Alastor, "I mean, I get it. I'm in to the whole 'tall dark and creepy' thing too but, you care about someone? I don’t know if I can see it.”

Alastor's eyes narrowed as he turned on Husk. The cat demon rolled his eyes in a brazen display of disrespect. He knew his master well, knew this was the only thing he had any leverage with the man on. With a deep breath, Alastor placed his hands firmly on the bar top and pulled himself to his feet. Not saying another word, he disappeared into his shadows.

That had been the first odd occurrence. Of course Angel had told Charlie and Charlie had told everyone, had even approached Alastor about it. The Radio Demon brushed it all off with skill and for a while, things were quiet.

About a month later, the second strange thing began happening. Alastor had always had a certain sway over shadows, everyone knew that. However, he very rarely used them, brought them out if it wasn't to hide him or take him where he needed to be. Then, suddenly, one began to follow him.

"Uh, Alastor?" Charlie had timidly approached him the first time she saw this happening.

"Yes, Charlie my dear?" Alastor asked, turning to face her as he tossed his microphone in the air, catching it neatly in the center of the stand.

"Well, we were just wondering if everything was... okay?" she asked, her hands behind her back and a pointed gaze on the shadow.

"If everything..." Alastor trailed off, following the path of Charlie's gaze and realizing what was going on, "No, no my dear. Everything is quite all right, quite alright indeed."

"Well, okay... If you say so." Charlie had relented after a few moments, unsure of what else to do.

Eventually, the members of the Hazbin Hotel grew used to the shadows, they too slipped out of their minds. Overcome with impending doom of the extermination just a month away, Alastor's strange behavior was no longer a priority.

That had been until the third odd occurrence came into being. It was Sir Pentious who had noticed it first, drawing it to the group's attention as Alastor walked through the lobby and past the group doing trust exercises there on his way to some meeting or another with the other overlords.

"Sir Pentious?" Charlie had called, trying to bring him back to earth as he watched the place Alastor had occupied, "Sir Pentious?"

"Pentious!" Vaggie yelled and his head snapped to her, "You're not coming up with some new plan to attack Alastor, are you?"

"No!" he quickly exclaimed, waving his hands frantically in the air, "Not at all just..."

"What?" Vaggie asked through gritted teeth, advancing a step forward, her spear in hand.

"It's just... doesn't that shadow Alastor has had following him well.... doesn't it kind of look like a woman?"

Husk broke out into wild laughter while Angel widened his eyes.

"Oh, he's definitely lost it now." Husk exclaimed as he calmed himself, clutching his stomach, "If I knew Y/n was the secret to breaking him down, I woulda done something about it years ago."

"No you wouldn't have, ya big talker." Angel teased, elbowing the cat demon lightly.

"Y/n?" Sir Pentious asked.

"Alastor's wife. That was her name." Husk replied.

"Did you know her?" Charlie asked.

Alastor had left the hotel, the threat that had held their questions at bay for months was gone and the topic was right. Husk nodded.

"So, what's she like?" Angel asked suggestively, "Is she more of a dom? Does deer boy like to get dicked down by his lady?"

"Gross." Charlie shook her head, her hands to her temples, "I do not want to know that."

"She's a good kid." Husk said after a moment, "She's nice..."

He trailed off.

"But?" Vaggie prompted, sensing there was more that he wanted to say.

Husk sighed.

"If you think Alastor is trouble, she's a fucking house fire set for the insurance money."

"So probably not interested in being a guest." Charlie dejectedly stated.

Husk shrugged.

"You never know. It has been seven years since anyone has seen her. Alastor allegedly knows where she's at but, he hasn't gone after her. Just keeps whining to me about it so, I don't know. Maybe she's changed. I doubt it though. Sweet as a pea, sharp as a knife."

Charlie had never felt such relief as when she learned Alastor had not died in the chaos of the battle. The hotel was destroyed, heaven was pissed, Sir Pentious had died but, at least he was alright. They rebuilt the hotel, Alastor's same shadow of a woman trailing after him wherever he went. After about a week, thanks to all the angelic and demonic powers involved in the construction, the new Hotel was finished.

It was just as they put the finishing touches on the place, hung the portrait of Sir Pentious they'd commissioned above the fire place, that a portal opened in the lobby. Everyone tensed, banding together behind Charlie and Alastor. Angels were coming, they were sure of it.

A crash echoed from the other side, a sharp yell and then something tumbled through the portal. With a flash, the portal disappeared behind the shape of a person huddled on the floor. She coughed violently.

Alastor's eyes went wide. Everyone else was too distracted to notice, but if they'd have been paying attention, they would have seen his shadow disappear.

The girl was filthy, her clothes torn and her hair tangled. She let out another, sharp cough before slowly lifting her head. Alastor took a trembling step forward.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice soft in disbeleif.

A smile, wide and sharp, split the woman's bruised face in two.

"Hey hun, I'm home."

In a flash, he was at her side, helping her to her feet, checking her for wounds.

"Jesus, Y/n." he sighed, "You're a mess."

"I know."

"Y/n-"

"I know. I shouldn't have done it, you don't need to lecture me. I didn't have a choice. It was you or me, Al. I couldn't... I can't... I had to. You've gotta understand."

"Sweetheart-"

Y/n cut him off again, her speech a single, constant, stressed-out stream.

"It was stupid, I know. I know. I really do but, she gave me the option and I couldn't say no cause then if I said no you'd really be the one in trouble a-"

Alastor raised a hand gently to her cheek and Y/n's words caught in her throat. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes at last.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

His voice was soft, so quiet the others could barely hear him. Y/n's cheeks flushed a bright pink. Her hands found the lapels of his jacket, holding them lightly.

"I.." she stuttered, her mind racing.

With a sigh and a slight shake of her head, she gave up in the search for words and buried herself in his chest. Alastor wrapped his arms around Y/n, pressing her tightly into his frame.

"God, I missed you." she said, her voice muffled by the fabric.

Alastor pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"I love you." she continued, "I'm so sorry."

Alastor pulled her off of him, leaning down the slightest bit so they were eye to eye. Y/n, wiped a stray tear away, letting out a slight, sad laugh. Alastor's eyes traversed her face, caressing every crevasse.

"I'm so glad your alright but, I don't understand." he said at last, "How are you back? The deal..."

Y/n nodded and Alastor's eyes went wider still. Leaning on Alastor's shoulder for support, she turned her eyes onto the rest of the group.

"You must be Charlie." she hummed softly, meeting the young demon's gaze.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie stepped forward and nodded.

"Yes, I am. I run the Hazbin Hotel, which is where you are, to help rehabilitate sinners."

"I know." Y/n nodded, her voice quavering slightly, "I've heard so much about you. You... my dear, it worked."

"I- what?" every other question died in Charlie's throat, shock shot through her body like a bullet.

"It worked." Y/n confirmed, "You did it. I had a deal, a deal which Alastor went to your side to get me out of. If you succeeded in redeeming a soul with his aid, I would be free. And here I am."

"Here you are." Alastor repeated, spinning Y/n to face him once again.

She wobbled unsteadily on her feet. Catching sight of this along with the numerous wounds all over her body, Alastor scooped Y/n up into his arms like he did when they had first been married, when they had crossed the first threshold together. Y/n looped her arms around his neck, exhaustion seeping in with the relief as she let her head fall on his chest.

"Vaggie..." Charlie began as she turned to her girlfriend, "you don't think..."

"Pentious?" Vaggie asked and Charlie nodded.

"It's gotta be." Angel confirmed.

"You did good, kid." Husk smiled, patting Charlie on the back.

Y/n raised her head at the sound of a familiar voice, her eyes opening.

"Husker?" she asked with a smile.

The cat demon stepped forward, bowing slightly.

"Husker! I-"

"Enough of that, my love." Alastor cut her off, tapping her nose gently, "You need a shower and some rest. You can meet everyone in the morning."

Y/n crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at her husband.

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise." he sighed.

"Does that mean you're staying?" Charlie asked tentatively and the couple turned to her.

"Whatever the little lady desires." Alastor stated, looking back down at his wife in a lovestruck daze.

"Yes, Charlie. We're staying." Y/n laughed, "Things need to start changing around here and I don't see anyone else doing a god damn thing to make that happen except for you."

"I.." Charlie was speechless, the kindness this fear inspiring woman was directing towards her, having never met her before. What Husk had said made sense, she smiled, "Thank you. I don't know what you did, but that you both so much."

"Anything for my favorite girl." Alastor kissed Y/n softly.

"Oh, get a room." Angel scoffed, rolling his eyes.

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auroralwriting · 6 months ago

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second chances

bucky barnes x reader (no use of y/n, next-door-neighbor trope!)

you once came face-to-face with the winter soldier, will bucky barnes be any different?

word count: 1.6k. | no warnings

The Winter Soldier's face was etched into your mind since the day you'd seen him. It was one of those average days in New York, you'd just gone out for some shopping. Sometimes Avenger sightings were normal, but seeing Captain America in full sprint was a sure fire sign something was amiss. That was when the shooting began.

You were quick to move people, ducking them under tables, shooing them further up the street, making them take corners to evade the flying bullets. It was just an instinct, there were too many people who could get hurt.

Then, you saw him.

His face was covered by a mask, but that arm, his left arm! It was completely metal. That was one of the features you burned into your brain, along with his hair color, skin color, height. The pure adrenaline and fear had pushed you to stop, freeze in place, and memorize the man.

It was then you were ushered to move by the man you found out was The Falcon. You were safe, but the smoke, the bullets, the explosions, it was all muted and dull compared to The Winter Soldier.

Years had gone by, you'd been a victim to what they called The Blip. Five whole years had forced you to relocate to Brooklyn, some cheap ass apartment building you were sure was haunted. You'd been living there for five months, got some furniture, meet the neighbors, it was a place content with being home. The one aspect that kept you up was the empty apartment next to you. It had been rotting since you moved in, you wondered who would fill its void, make the place a home once more.

It didn't take more than those five months for your answer to appear. It was grocery day, a list in your pocket and your wallet in hand, you'd just stepped out the door. Turning around, there he was.

It had been so many years since that fateful day, but you knew that stance, the hair color, height, everything about him. Through a peek in his jacket, you saw the hint of metal.

It was obvious he knew what you were thinking. The way your breath was heavy, eyes widened, there was no way he didn't know exactly what was rushing though your mind. He opened his mouth, but you rushed down the hall before he could say anything. The elevator ride down was when it hit you; he was your neighbor.

It had taken a week and a half for Bucky to gather the courage to face you. That look in your eyes was pure fear, he knew it all too well. He'd checked his list a hundred times, but your name wasn't on it. Okay, maybe he'd done some light digging into you, just a quick ask of some of the neighbors and he learned your name. He'd never hurt you, but that also didn't mean you'd never encountered him, either.

White fur of his cat, Alpine, brushed between his legs. The cat stared at Bucky, giving a soft meow. Bucky sighed, scratching between her ears. "I know, girl." He sighed, "I just need to get it over with."

The walk to your next-door apartment felt like it took ages. Bucky felt himself ridden with guilt when he softly tapped his knuckles on the door.

With the chain lock still in place, the door was opened a crack. "What do you want?" Your voice came out quickly, but it was laced with fear.

"I just.. wanna say hi to my new neighbor?" Bucky hesitated. That wasn't what he had planned on saying.

The door closed, and Bucky almost turned away when he heard the familiar sound of the chain dropping. The door opened and you slipped your way through. "You want to say hi?" Your asked in disbelief.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh arm. "Uh, yes. And, uh, apologize. I know- I know you know who I am, was. And uh, I'm not that guy anymore. It's really complicated-"

"I have time," Your response took him back. You were looking at him expectantly, your door now pushed wide open. "Are you gonna come in?"

Bucky's story was unlike any you'd ever heard. He spoke in such detail, starting from the forties to now. You'd given him some water, a soda for yourself as you sat on your couch, listening to his whole story. By the end, you felt such sympathy for the guy. He even went as far as to show you his little book (it broke your heart even more when you were told it was Steve's), amends he needed to make, movies and music he needed to see. There was a lot more to him than you expected. Much to both of your surprises, a friendship had blossomed that very day.

From that moment on, anytime Bucky would leave to go cross another name off his list, Alpine would stay at your place. You kept her company, fed her, gave her water, loved on her. Then, sometimes you found yourself missing her, so, naturally, you began going 'round Bucky's to play with her while he was home. Eventually, he began to stay around you both, watching tv or making dinner for the three of you.

Sooner or later, you had clothes at Bucky's apartment, and he kept som at yours, too. It was just friendly, of course. You just spent so much time together that it was natural to keep some belongings at each other's places.

The real change was the night you heard the loudest knocking, no, pounding, you'd ever heard on your door. The adrenaline left you jumping out of bed to go see what was happening. Throwing open the door, a disheveled, sweaty, and tearful Bucky stood, chest heaving as his hands gently grasped your face. His eyes met yours, scanning all over your face as you softly shushed him. You lead him into your apartment and laid him down in your bed. You sat next to him until he fell back asleep. He'd told you his nightmares were bad, but never this bad. It left you feeling guilty leaving him all alone in a bed he'd never been in. So, you slipped under the sheets next to him, just so he would feel a sense of comfort when he woke up.

Then that became the new normal for a few weeks. Anytime Bucky would have a nightmare, he'd slip into your bed with the key you'd given him after the second jumpscare of his fists colliding with your door.

The biggest change in your odd friendship was the night Bucky showed up at ten, before either of you had gone to sleep.

"Bucky?" You called from your spot on the couch, watching as he walked in, clad in his pajama pants and loose, grey tee-shirt. He didn't look panicked yet, you were confused why he was here so late, yet so early.

The soldier gave you a small smile, "Hi," You watched as he fumbled with his fingers, "I was wondering if I could stay? Didn't feel right bein' alone tonight." And so he stayed.

That's when the new habit began. Occasional nightmare-induced sleepovers turned into spending every night together, slowly merging to his apartment, too. You'd bring a book or your phone as Bucky would watch whatever was on tv quietly, sometimes he'd read too. Spending the night together became the new normal, you didn't know how you'd gone so far in your life without being with him like this.

Like what, though?

I mean, sure, you slept over together, he'd cook you both meals, you basically shared custody of his cat, shared apartments. But.. what? That wasn't something just friends did, but you'd never gone as far as to do anything people who were more than friends did either. So, you avoided him for approximately three days before Bucky had you cornered.

"Doll, where've you been?" Bucky asked. You could see it in his eyes, the hurt. "Been missin' you. I haven't seen you 'round, lately."

You gave him a small shrug, "Just been busy, Bucky." you answered.

Bucky knew your schedule like the back of his hand. In fact, he probably knew it better than his own. Unless something sudden or serious came up, there was no way you'd been that busy, unless..

"Why are you avoiding me?" The soldier questioned. "And don't lie to me, either. I know when you're lying."

The nerves crept up your spine as your mind raced through different answers to give him. "I've just been busy helping my aunt."

Bucky's eyebrow shot up, "Your aunt?"

"Yeah, my aunt."

"Which aunt?" Bucky questioned further, prying into your lie.

You felt your heart race, "My Aunt Leah,"

"The one who lives in Kentucky?" Bucky's face clearly showed he was not buying it.

"What are we, Buck?" You suddenly asked, feeling overwhelmed by his questions and your lie.

Bucky's face morphed into one of surprise, "What?" What did you mean, 'What are we?' You were his best friend, his everything. Wait, his everything? Bucky felt hopelessly stupid when he realized he'd never even acknowledged the fact that he could even like you.

"We sure as hell aren't just friends," You continued, "And I know for a fact that best friends don't sleep over every night, or eat every meal together, go shopping, watch movies," Your rant continued as you grilled into Bucky. "And I don't think I can keep going unless I'm yours,"

Your words had Bucky breathless, "Doll, 'course you're mine." Like a twist of fate, his words now held you breathless as you stared at the man, wide eyed. "I'm the stupid one, I should've made my intentions more clear from when I first started feeling more."

With a shake of your head, you gave Bucky a small smile, "You're not stupid, Buck."

"You wanna go get dinner tonight?" Bucky asked, "Officially as my girl, my treat."

A smile gleamed on your face, "I'd love nothing more."

#bucky barnes #marvel fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel x reader #sebastain stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes

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grugruel · 1 year ago

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Let the Light in

Pairing: priest!Bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: On the day of your wedding, you excpect to love your husband, not fall for the priest.

You'd never been a believer. But when your marrige spiraled into darkness, you had to find light elsewere. So you asked the Lord for help, and He answered.

Ironically enough, He gave you a most devout follower, the priest.

Word count: ca 4k

Warnings: fluff, angst, blasphemy, soft!priest!bucky, pinv sex, oral sex (f receiving), passionate sex, fingering, thigh-riding, adultry, praise (m receiving), priest kink.

AN: its been proof read! I dont understand how yall read it before the fact, my misspellings were crazy. I also edited it a bit, gave yall about 200-300 words more.

I stod silently on the sidewalk, with my back to the road. Numbly observing the scene in front of me as I waited. Cars were rushing past behind me, slowing as they noticed the crowd.

The chilly autumn winds blew my coat off of my stocking clad legs, revealing them to the elements. I couldnt be bothered to care.

The cold did not affect me anymore, I was strung out on feeling.

I watched my husband struggle, and the guests scramble to help him. They got him on his feet, and his best man slung an arm around him to keep him from falling again. My eyes brimmed with tears, ready to fall any second now.

I felt a hand touch the small of my back in silent support. A palm pressed firmly into the arch below, fingertips curling, rouching the fabric of my dress. I closed my eyes and all my troubles were wisked away for but a second, until I heard the guests approach and the hand left me. I opened my eyes to a grim sight.

We met in college, my husband and I. He'd been lovely and attentive when we first met, he made me fall in love with him. He proposed to me on our graduation, and i'd never been happier.

Unfortunately though, it didnt last that long.

As we were fresh out of school, both with stellar scores and brand new degrees. We got our dream jobs, and bought ourselves our dream home.

Everything was perfect, until he got fired. Why? He wouldnt tell me, he left me in the dark, refusing to tell me himself.

Naturally, I grew suspicious.

So I called his former boss, who told me that they'd caught him with his secretary bent over his desk. They said he'd gotten a reputation within his business and would be experiencing difficulties in finding a new job for himself. My crying increased gradually through out the call, this was the first time hed let me down after all. His boss was very apologetic and so was my fiancé.

He found me sat on the floor with phone in hand, a complete mess of tears and running mascara. Immedietly showing worry, 'Whats going on, whats happened?' He asked, thinking somebody died. But when I glared at him, repaying his silence with my own, he understood. He stuttered an apology, his words a flurry of explanations and sorrys, sounding truly regretful.

So I forgave him, silly me.

With time, bitterness manifested within him. Resentment over the fact that I was well liked and did good work at my own job. It led him down a pityfull path, finding solace in alcohol, resentment turning into lousey drunkeness. I should've left him, but chose to forgive him. I loved him, despite all.

Eventually he found a new job, nowehere near the prestige of his old one. But it calmed his drinking.

When he sobered slightly, he apologized continously. Telling me he promised to get better and told me he wanted to have our ceremony, because I deserved it. Foolishly, I belived him. He stayed sober several weeks before the wedding, and I thought it could be a new start.

But here we are now.

I stood behind the doors of the nave, inhaling and exhaling big shaky breaths, trying to gather strength for what I was about to throw myself into.

The priest, father Barnes. The one who would be marrying us, came to me before I walked down the aisle.

'Miss.' He began, his eyes pleading as he took my hands into his, 'Its now my place, I know. But your betrothed-'

'Youre right, its not.' I cut him off, the idea of discussing my fiancés indiscretions with the priest was not appealing. 'I apologize father.' I sighed and met his eyes, 'Hes drunk isnt he?'

The priest tilted his head to the side, realising I was already well aquainted with the vice, 'Well, yes. . .' He said, sounding apologetic.

I nodded my head, deep in thought, 'Alright, lets not waste anymore time then.'

'You're still going ahead with the wedding?' He asked me, an incredulous expression shaping his face.

I looked down, studying the intricate details of my wedding dress. Id picked it myself, my favourite flowers covered it. That man of mine doesnt know my favourite in anything, nor would he notice them on my dress.

A melancholic smile covered my lips, 'You must think me foolish father.' I whispered under my breath, chuckling quietly.

He shook his head and moved one of his hands to my chin, tilting my face to meet his. The other grabbed my hands, and squeezed them, 'I think youre strong.' He told me, a reassuring smile on his lips.

'He promised me he would get better.' My voice was meak, a tear streaking my face.

'You're a good woman.' He breathed, letting go of my hands to cup my face. He leveled his head with mine, his tall stature forcing him to hunch as his eyes locked with mine, 'Too, good.' He whispered, 'And, Its not my business, thats true. . .' Another tear fell, and he gently stroked it away with his thumb, 'But he does not deserve your kindness.'

My cheeks burned hot, a blush crept up my face. I had not heard such kind words in a long time. I could not controll my crying any longer, unstoppable tears came rolling down my cheeks, 'I have to believe him, father, I have to try.' I told him quietly, hating how desperate my voice sounded.

'I love him.'

He cringed at the words, furrowing his brows 'I admire your devotion.' He said gently, 'Do you want more time? Im sure we can wait a little longer.' He tried, but I shook my head.

'No, I dont want to keep the guests waiting.' I took a deep breath, 'Do I look ok?' I asked him.

He nodded, but pulled the cuff over his hand and dabbed my cheeks dry.

His eyes flickered over my face, studying my features, my wet eyes and rosy cheeks. He leaned in, kissed my cheek and whispered 'Angelic.' His hands fell to my bare shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

He turned around and as he was about the leave I grabbed hold of his wrist, carefully tugging him back. He faced me and I let go of him realising that perhaps it wasnt appropriate of me. 'I just-' I began, but my voice broke. He met my eyes and pulled me into his embrace, 'Thank you, father.' I whispered against his chest.

He rested his head on your shoulder and rubbed your back gently, holding onto the fabric of your dress, rubbing it between his fingers. Studying the beautiful pattern. He slid his hands up your arms, feeling a sudden urge to kiss the bare skin beneath him. He pulled back hastily, clearing his throat as he silently rebuked himself.

'I must take my place dear.' He said, stroking a piece of hair behind my ear. He gave me a last smile, then left, taking his place by the altar.

I heard the music starting and the muffled sound of the crowd standing up. I sighed, steadied my breathing, and opened the doors to the nave. Everyone turned around, looking at me. Whispers rumbled through the crowd as I began walking, their stares were making me nervous.

Through the gloom of the church, light shone through the windows at the altar. I looked at him for comfort, handsome as he was, I met his eyes and found it within them.

He could not tear his eyes from you, you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, courageous and proud, you walked down the aisle. When your eyes met his, he smiled proudly. Hoping you would find some comfort in it, and you found it.

As I approached the altar, I tore my eyes from his and looked at my fiancé. His best man holding him upright, otherwise slumping over. He smiled sloppily at me, I gave him a strained smile back.

The ceremony was over quickly, my husband stumbled through his vows and his kiss tasted of smoke and whiskey. In fact, the entirety of him was drenched in the odor.

I smiled and thanked everyone as they congratulted us, and carefully, tiptoed around the subject of my husband.

I hurried to change into my reception dress, it was all black. Black coat, dress, heels and stockings. Fitting, I thought. As this felt more like a funeral than a wedding, burrying the woman I once was.

People were drinking, laughing and dancing. The reception was doing a wonderful job of keeping everyone cheery, everyone except me. I sat silently by our table, watching my husband as he kept drinking and his men trying to calm him down. He had barely spoken a word to me, he was to drunk to stand, to drunk to have our first dance. I felt myself sinking into oblivion as my polite smiles and thank yous were running out.

But someone approched me, snapping me out of the darkness. I looked up, and the light returned.

He reached his hand out to me, 'May I have this dance?' He asked, his white collar stark against his black shirt.

'You may.' I smiled, the first genuine smile I'd given anyone since the night begun.

I laid my hand in his and he led me to the edge of the dance floor, somewhere we could be at peace. In our dark colors we went unseen, tucked away from prying eyes.

I snaked my arms around his neck and his arms circled my waist, pulling me tightly against him. A bit unorthodox perhaps. But I didnt mind and neither did he, it seemed. I leaned my head against him as we swayed to the music, basking in eachothers prescence.

He sensed that you werent interested in talking, but rather needed a shoulder to lean on. Someone to hold you up, as your ungrateful husband couldnt even do that for himself.

For several songs, we just held eachother. Until the evening began winding down and we had to depart.

'I think this was a mistake.' He whispered.

'Which part?' I asked, and he sighed.

'Dont hesitate to come to me if you need anyhting.' He said quietly, 'Please.' he pleaded. I nodded, thinking id never take him up on his offer.

Now, I stood on the street. Still feeling the priests hand on my back although he'd already taken a few secure steps back.

I watched as my husband being carried to our car, as we were headed for our honeymoon. Two weeks in rome, I wish I could truthfully say I was excited. They shoved him into the back, and once again congratulated us with cheapish smiles. I walked around the car and opened the door, about to sit down when a hand slid into mine. I looked up and my eyes met his beautiful blues once again. He assisted me into the car, lending me his strong arm for support as I sat down. His hand slid out of mine, and a note was left in my palm, reflexicely I closed my hand around it. 'Anything.' He whispered and backed away, closing the door gently.

Our car drove off as the guests were waving us of, but all I could think about was the priest disappearing in the distance.

I opened the note, written down was his number and adress along with a few intricately drawn flowers.

I smiled to myself, quickly stashing it away in my pocket, afraid my husband would see. But as I looked at him, I realised. He was dead asleep, snoring even.

I opened my hand, tracing my fingertips along my palm. Trying to recreate the feeling of his hand in mine, his gentle, yet firm touch on my skin. I sighed, feeling my tears returning.

I cried silently, afraid to wake him. The driver looked at me through his rearview mirror, I met his eyes and quickly averted my gaze, crying even harder, but I couldnt even do that in peace. God, what had I done. I leaned my head against the seat, closing my eyes. When suddenly, I felt fingers on my knee. I shut my eyes harder, begging for it to be my imagination. But it wasnt.

'My, beautiful wife.' He drawled, tracing a finger along my jaw as his hand slid up my thigh. He sat forward, leaning towrd the drivers compartment and shut the hatch.

I opened my eyes and faced him, 'Aw, crying of joy sweetheart?' He asked, he was so delusional it was scary. I nodded, and feigned a smile which he returned lazily, then leaned in to kissed me.

I closed my eyes again, canceling out the taste and smell of liqour, shutting my ears to his voice.

And when his finger reached under my dress, It no longer felt like him. My husbands face was no longer my husbands, his voice and touch was someone elses.

All of a sudden my core was aching for more.

His kisses on my skin felt like heaven, his touch like fire and when he pulled me on top of him. I opened my eyes, and was met with blue, black and white.

Weeks went by and my thoughts never left father Barnes, whenever my husband made love to me, I made love to a priest.

Eventually his drinking subdued and he started taking care of himself, but grew more distant by the day.

It did actually make my existence bareable.

But there came a day, when I got home from work early and things were not as they should. The were heels in the doorway and clothes strewn on the floor. As I followed their trail, I found my husband and his secretary at the end of them. Naked, sweaty and monaing, in our bed, in our home. I was quiet, lost for words, but they mustve noticed my presence.

Because they stopped and threw the sheets over themselves, covering up. 'Sweetheart, its not what it seems.' He managed, struggling to clme up with an excuse. God, the stumache on that man. I felt like screaming, like cursing him and his entire bloodline. But he wasnt worth it.

I turned on my heel and he scrambled out of bed, dragging the sheet with him as he followed me out of the house, apologizing prefusely.

I shut him out, rage filling me as I got in my car and drove away. I drove to the only adress that came to mind.

I walked up to his house and knocked on the door, a few moments passed and he opened.

With wide eyes he looked at me, unable to hide his surpise. 'I uhm, I-' I stammered, my own surpise catching up to me. I hadnt had time to think this through, I acted on pure instinct. 'He cheated on me.' I got the words out, finally taking a breath as I finally understood their meaning. Misery overtook my rage, and my eyes welled as I tried to explain myself. 'I apologize for barging in on you father.' I started, 'Ive been thinking about you and I-' rambling, all my thoughts and feelings poured out of me. In the doorway of this poor mans home.

He reached out to me and pulled me into a hug, backing away from the door and let it fall shut behind me. He rested his head on top of mine as one of his hands held my head against his chest, stroking my hair. The warmth of his home embracing me.

'Can I confess something father?' I asked him as I laid my arms around him, much like our dance a few weeks ago.

'Anything.' He answered, kissing the top of my head.

'Ive sinned.'

He pulled back with a confused look on his face, but didnt let go. 'Lets hear it.' He ordered patiently.

'Ive. . . Been thinking of another man.' I whispered, looking deep into his eyes. 'During actions that should only take place between husband and wife.' I told him quietly, and his face grew pale. 'Ive had an emotional affair with this man, unbeknownst to him.' My breathing turned heavy, as my gaze switched to his lips, 'But, me and this man. Were both bound by vows you see.' I said and let go of him, understanding my words as I said them, and stepped back. Suddenly regretting coming here, as I felt rejection was imminent. 'Mine are already broken, but his are not and he cannot break them. He would not.'

'You should let the man speak for himself.' He said, serious in tone. His gaze locked in on me, as he stepped closer. 'I havent been able to stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I've tried.' He whispered, laying his hands on my hips. 'Ive never seen a woman so beautiful walking down the aisle, god himself mustve blessed you.' I snaked my hands around his shoulders, burrying them in his hair. 'Im hoping he would bless us, too.' Leaning in, his lips were a ghost over mine. 'I would care for you, in a way your husband never could. He does not deserve you.' He leaned his forehead agagaist mine, 'I'd work everyday to deserve your love, your kindness, your presence.' He said quietly against my lips, planting a gentle kiss on them and pulling back slightly to give me room. But I chased his lips, returning the kiss feverishly. Grabbing a fistful of his hair as I pulled him impossibly closer. His hands roamed my back, reaching under my shirt to undo my bra. It fell to the floor and he pulled my shirt over my head in one quick motion, making me gasp.

I removed the collar of his shirt with my teeth and ripped his black shirt open, burrying my head in the crook of his neck, 'Youre not a beginner, are you father? I asked, between kisses. Breathing heavily as I latched onto his skin, sucking at the sweet spot between his neck and collarbone.

He moaned, a smirk shaping his lips, 'Saints also sin from time to time.' he breathed, his hands falling to my ass and lifted me into his arms. I chuckled, letting go of his neck and circled my legs around his hips. I pushed my bare breasts against him and he burried his face in them, in turns taking them into his mouth. 'Where?' His voice came muffled by my skin.

'Everywhere.' I answered.

I could feel his grin against my skin, as he nipped my nipple with his teeth, making me yelp. He walked us toward his bedroom, and laid me down on his bed. He stood back, studying me as he took his shirt and pants off. I unbuttoned my own pants and shimmied out of them, raising myself onto my elbows, watching him as he took me in. His eyes roamed my body, thighs, hips, stumache, breasts. He loved all of me, 'Youre perfect.' He said, lust in his eyes as he climbed on top of me. 'I need you.' He whispered.

'You'll have me.' I told him and flipped him over. Positioning him against the headboard as I stradled his thigh, grinning wickedly and leaned forward, kissing his jaw. 'But first-' I whispered against his ear, 'I want to test your self control.' He looked confused, and I began grinding my clit against his thigh, a whimper escaping me. His hands flew to my hips to help me along, but I grabbed them and led them up to the headboard. I leveled my face with his, ghosting my lips over his as I had him hold onto the board, 'No touching.' I whispered and pecked his lips. I leaned back and my grinding resumed, I grabbed his thighs for support as the heat from the friction was making me swoon. I leaned my head back, biting my lip from the pleasure and when I looked back at him, he was holding onto the board for dear life. The muscles in his arms and jaw clenching as he fought himself to stay still, his eyes were running up and down my body.

The way your hips swayed and breasts bounced, it was sucking all the restraint out of him. His hands were itching to touch you, to just feel your skin under his fingertips for a moment. It would keep him fed for the rest of his life.

I hummed, 'Im- im gonna-' I stammered, my breaths frenzied as I was closing in on my orgasm. The crazy in his eyes made me smile devilishly, I felt evil, in the best way. My hips stuttered against his thigh, my ruts becoming faster and shorter as I was approaching my release. When I looked at him, his eyes were pleading, begging for permission, but it was to late. I rushed over the edge in a second, collapsing onto him, panting hard as I was catching my breath.

'May I?' He asked, his voice strained.

I kissed his chest and answered, 'Yes, please. You did so good.' He grunted at the praise, surprising me. He grabbed my ribs and threw me under him, hurridly kissing his way down my body until he reached my thighs. Spreading them, he kissed his way up the inside until he reached my panties. Without a second thought he ripped them apart and burried his face in my cunt. Tasting me, licking my juices, sliding his tongue through my folds and kissing my clit. A string of curses fell from my lips, as he pushed a finger inside of me, carefully sliding it in and out. Then adding another, and eventually a third, he thrusted them into me, my moaning telling him he was on the right track. He curled them into my spot and I nearly screamed.

'Just like that, good job.' I breathed and he moaned against my clit. What fun. He reached into his boxers and stroked himself, the sight made me mad. And for the second time, I came tumbling over the edge. He was not far behind, coming into his own hand, drenching himself in his seed. I grabbed his arm and pulled his hand closer to me, licking a stripe of his hand. He grunted at the sight, spurring me on as I took his fingers into my mouth. Sucking him clean as he watched, furrowing his brows, he became plagued by lust.

I pulled him closer to me, meeting his lips in another kiss as he pulled off his boxers. I reached down, stroking him as I lined him up with my entrance, 'You did such a good job, father.' His head perked at the praise, like a puppy being told hes a good boy. Gratefully pecking my face, cheek, chin and jaw, below my ear and neck. He put his weight on me, we couldnt possibly get any closer to one another. 'I need you in me father.' I told him bluntly, and leveled his head with mine, sliding inside. Kissing me mean while and I moaned into his mouth, sharing my breath with him. I laid my hands on his hips, telling him to move by pulling and pushing. Helping him set a gentle but firm pace, he lowered his head to the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. 'Let me hear you father, dont hold back.' I whispered and appreciatively he grunted against my skin, moaning in my ear. It was fiendish, it was fantastic. 'Deeper, please.' I asked, pulling on his hips to drive him deeper and using the weight of his entire body he thrusted into me, in rythm with his grunts as our bodiess moved together.

'Tell me im good, please.' He begged, nuzzling his face into my neck.

I smiled, 'Youre being so good for me father.' I whispered into his hair.

'Thank you.' He whimpered, putting even more force to his thrusts as he traced my collarbone with kisses, all the way to my shoulder, repeating "Thank you." Over and over again inbetween his kisses. His thrusts were coming faster as he was closing in on his orgasm, driving me over the edge with him. 'I- im- im close.' He stuttered faintly.

'So am I, almost there father.' His pace hastened as his hand slithered between our bodies, finding my clit and circled it. 'God' I moaned, spots specking my vision as the priests thrusts became frenzied. He pinched my skin in warning, reminding me not to take the lords name in vain. Then we came together, and he collapsed on top of me.

'Im sorry for swearing, father. You bring it out of me.' I whispered.

He chuckled, 'Youre forgiven.' Throughout the night, we made love on the couch, the floor, the kitchen table and shower.

Eventually, we got back into bed. Holding eachother tightly as we drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up late the next day, there was a vase of flowers on the bedside table with a note under it, the letter "-B" was written on it.

I unfolded it and he had written me a message, "I had to go to church, but didnt want to wake you. I hope on seeing you later, please stay if you want to. Id love to come home to you. -PS, Your favourites."

I smiled happily and smelled the bouqet of tulips, a soft, warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

For a long time love had felt dark to me, it had felt cold and lonely, but now. . .

I had let the light in, he was my light.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

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sleepyangelkami · 7 months ago

Note

Hi!! Could I request a fic about Carl and aftercare? Your writing is so good I’m jealous‼️

DESTRUCTION AND REPARATION c.grimes

☆ WORD COUNT - 1.3K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - when everything is said and done, carl wants to make sure you know you still are and always will be his precious girl.

☆ WARNINGS - mentions of sex, illusion to sex, aftercare, sexual themes, aged up characters, dom!carl, sub!reader, hickies, nudity, vulnerability, bathing as a couple, kinda real world!au, praise, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

descruction and reparation.

in carl's terms, the act of destroying you until you were nothing but a toy at his will to do whatever it was he wanted with you. then building you back up and showing you that no matter the hour, you were truly the only girl in the world that mattered.

his breath was heavy as he relaxed himself against the bed. it was like a ritual every time it happened, no matter the position you found yourself screwed up in. he'd lay next to you, long fingers coming to brush the hair away from your face.

"hey, pretty girl." he practically cooed at the sight of you. you were so fucked out, breathing heavy with swollen lips. there were many marks and traces he'd left down your neck, across your stomach and between your thighs. he couldn't help but admire them while he studied you. "you okay? everythin' feel good?" his voice was low, like a soft whisper that could have lulled you to sleep.

when carl was finished with you, after you'd lost count of the rounds and he knew you were done it was hard not to take you into his arms and allow them to swallow you whole. "mhm." was your response, though behind the tiredness there was a type of contentedness. you always felt that when you and carl were finished.

you could have opened your mouth to spill every little detail on how you felt, god knew you liked to talk.

but now, in the afterglow with the only light source in the room being the little fairy lights overhead, you found your mind so tired that you couldn't will yourself to speak even if you'd wanted to.

his fingers traced against your skin, eyes never leaving your pretty face.

carl liked taking his time having his way with you. he liked to do it at his own pace, flipping you in every position, letting out all his stamina and making you both feel as though you were on fire.

he loved hearing your whimpers and whined, watching your back arch against the bed and listening to himself unravel you completely.

but this as your body lay still next to his own, eyes peering up at him with love and adoration, this is all he'd never needed.

his face came down, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your forehead. "c'mon, bath time." you made an effort to groan to which the boy merely moved his kiss to your lips, dragging you up from the bed.

he did what he said he would, drawing a bath for you both.

this was not a new thing he'd begun. it was often that you'd take a bath together after everything was said and done but that didn't mean you'd ever get used to the low energy needing a spike to get to the bathroom, despite the fact carl was practically carrying you, wedging you in the door and making you sit on the porcelain toilet seat while he ran the bath. he even added that scent that you liked, the one he claimed made him smell like a girl. he'd just have to make sure he lathered on his spray afterwords.

not much was said, carl helping you into the bath as he climbed in after you, sitting with your back to his front, holding you close.

during bath's like these, carl paid extra attention to your body. it wasn't so much about cleaning. i mean, sure, you got clean some way or another, he'd lather on the scented soap, doing it to himself too. but that wasn't the point of the baths.

the low "love you." that you mumbled as you pressed yourself close to him or the soft sniffle as you tried to wipe away the tiredness from your eyes.

the soft "i love you too." he'd murmur back, soft hands caressing your body, pressing kisses anywhere his lips could reach. "beautiful girl." he'd mumble before correcting himself. "my beautiful girl."

that was the whole point of this.

no matter the sex, rough, soft, quick and easy, hard, long. whether or not you came out teary eyed or not, he didn't care. at the end of the night, just the two of you relaxing in the porcelain bath tub was all he'd ever need.

"did so good." he'd praise softly in your ear, as if not to disturb the peace you had, as if he'd ever let you fall asleep in the bathtub. he was always gently tapping your face with his fingers, not allowing you to sleep. but it was so hard, the hot water and his voice lulling you ever so gently. "such a good girl."

he'd wash your body for you, taking extra care in the places you need, careful when passing your bruises and your fucked out cunt.

if he could, he'd keep you in the bath even when the water went cold.

but by the time he was helping you out, you couldn't even complain. you were more excited about getting beneath his blue covers than anything before.

"c'mere." holding the towel around your body. "let me." never allowing you to do anything for yourself. he made sure you were well taken care of in any way you could ever possibly need. he dried down your body, leaving you in it while he grabbed the pijamas on the island of the sink, dressing you.

your cotton long pijama bottoms and the t-shirt with short sleeves were over your body within a matter of seconds.

"so good f'me." his lips pressing a line down your exposed neck, pushing your damp hair out of the way so you didn't have to deal with it any longer.

he'd praise you until the night was up. the two of you, clad in fresh cotton pijamas beneath those ugly navy blankets that he owened, cuddled up while the pictures moved against the screen.

at a time like this, you were fragile, that much he was well aware of. this is why he didn't speak many words, turning on the tv to the show he knew you liked or the new one you'd both been watching together. his fingers would twist your hair, curling it around his fingers and letting it drop. or perhaps his fingers were drawing lines up and down your arms? shapes against your back? whatever he was doing to you, it was soothing enough for your eyes to flutter shut.

"know her from somewhere." you'd mumble, all dazed as you tried to make out the familiar face on the screen.

"yeah?" he'd murmur back, gentle kisses against the slope of your neck, so soft against the earlier bruises. "from where baby?"

he'd hear that little mumble back from you, a practical babble. you babbled until your voice ran out. could he understand or make out a word you were saying? ... definitely not the point.

though he wasn't too worried, knowing you were much too tired to remember it by morning.

even as you finally drifted off into a sleep, he'd never stop those gentle kisses, soft murmurs, what a pretty way to drift in and out of consciousness.

he did it not because he knew you loved it or because he felt obliged to. he did it because he loved you, through the dawn and the dusk, no matter the hour of the day or night, no matter the things you were up to.

he'd trade the moon and the stars for moments like these.

though they seemed almost cheap, compared to you.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 3 months ago

Text

When Gods Listen

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x female!Durge/reader

Summary: Astarion is hit by a memory spell mid-combat. You fear what will happen to him, but Astarion only knows he woke with the answer to his prayers looking down at him.

Word Count: 6,162 words

Warnings: post Astarion's first romance scene, descriptions of battle, Astarion's past, typical Durge thoughts, temporary memory loss, temporary amnesia, Gale being helpful, vampire feeding, a cliche 'oh. oh.' moment, kissing, unspoken confession

Note: Reader is based on my drow half-ef Durge, Nixu, but remains from the second-person perspective with only brief & vague mention of her appearance. My first time writing Durge (resisting), so let me know what you think!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

How long had you been fighting? Ten minutes? An hour? Gods, you didn't know. You couldn't focus on anything other than the weapon in your hand, the number of arrows in your quiver, and the spells you had prepared. Letting your focus stray to your companions had already cost you, proven by the blood running down your arm and the claws that had torn your pants to shreds.

Need new armor, you thought as you slammed a dagger into a goblin's throat. The creature gurgled and clawed at your hands, leaving behind red scratches, until you yanked out the blade. The goblin fell to the blood-soaked ground with a wet thud.

Shadowheart screamed behind you. You heard the snarl of a wolf and turned to find one lunging for her, the cleric frozen in fear. You reached for your bow; Gale was faster, sending a Fire Bolt at the wolf. It snarled and turned on Gale.

You strung an arrow to your bow. You had four left, including this one. Your shot would have to be incredibly precise if you didn't want to get any closer to the wolf; you didn't have enough arrows for do-overs.

Taking aim, you drew back your string, taking a deep breath. Easy does it, you told yourself.

The wolf's body tensed. It sat back on its haunches, ready to lunge for Gale. He was in the middle of preparing a spell; it wouldn't be ready by the time the wolf's jaws were around his throat.

An arrow flew directly into the wolf's jugular. You blinked. Had you loosed your arrow? No. It remained in your fingers, notched to your bowstring.

Your eyes sought out the arrow's source and landed on a pair of red eyes creeping out of the shadows. Astarion slipped out of hiding, his face stony. He held his own bow. He stared down the wolf until it collapsed with a pitiful whine.

Both Gale and Shadowheart turned to other enemies, knives flashing and spells meeting their targets.

There was a horrid howl from somewhere on the battlefield. You whirled toward the sound and found an irate human hurrying down the rocky hill. You guessed the howl had been the wolf's name, then, and this was its owner.

"Astarion!" you shouted. "Behind you!" You pointed in the direction of the approaching human—a wizard, by the looks of her.

Astarion turned and dropped into a crouch. She began summoning a spell; you recognized it as a memory spell. Temporary, but all-encompassing. Before Astarion could hide, the spell hit him square in the chest.

Dread coiled in your stomach. Astarion stumbled backwards, a hand coming to touch his chest. Then his body went rigid. You weren't close enough to see it, but you knew his eyes had glazed over.

Astarion glanced around, clearly confused as to how he had ended up in a battle.

"Shit," you muttered.

He'd be easy to kill in this state, you thought. All too easy to stab in the brain and watch the blood run into his eyes. Ugly desire curled through your stomach, a desperate need to gut him from the inside out settling in your chest.

You blinked and the urge was gone. You glanced around you, expecting your butler, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Gods, why can't the urges be something simple, like wanting him whimpering beneath me again?

You started toward Astarion. Goblins swarmed you. You cast a poison spray across them and cut them down as quickly as you could. You looked up to find the wizard whispering in Astarion's ear. He turned toward Gale and Shadowheart, expressed pulled into confusion.

A goblin clawed at you, trying to climb your legs. You shook it off and slammed your knee into its face. You looked up again and found Astarion with an arrow pointed at Shadowheart's back. You shouted a warning.

"What the hells is he doing?!" she shouted.

Gale frowned at Astarion. "Amnesia," he said. "She messed with his memory."

All eyes widened in horror as the woman gave Astarion an order: "Kill." He loosed his arrow and Shadowheart just narrowly dodged it. Astarion readied another.

"He's under her command," Gale said.

You jumped to a higher vantage point. "Can we stop the spell?"

"Not the memory spell, that will take time to fade," he reasoned, "but if we kill her, she can't command him to kill us."

"Great," you said. "Now I have a plan."

The wizard shrieked with laughter. She turned around, her hands spread, a sneer on her face. "You'll never kill me," she snarled. "I'm far more powerful than—"

She fell with a thud, your arrow buried in her heart. You jumped to the ground and looked down at her where she lay, gurgling and glaring at you. You cocked your head. "You should know better than to expose yourself to attack, wizard. Now I will make your head a statement piece."

Without thinking, you drew your knife. Yet you froze when you heard Gale give a shout. You looked up and found an arrow—one of Astarion's—in his shoulder. The wizard could make no more orders, but her last command was still standing. He was still attacking the others.

"No time for that now," you said to the corpse. You left it where it lay and ran toward Astarion. As you got closer, you realized he looked incredibly confused about having shot Gale.

Gravel crunched under your feet, sliding out from underneath you. You slipped to a halt in front of him. "Astarion? You okay?"

He flinched as your hand came to rest on his shoulder. He shrugged off your touch. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"I'm..." The words died on your lips. What were the two of you? Gods knew there wasn't really a label for whatever it was the two of you had. Would he even believe it if you tried to explain it, while the memory spell lasted? "I'm your friend. We met on the road. We stuck together with Gale and Shadowheart here and the others back at camp to get rid of the tadpoles."

Astarion looked at you, studying you with a gaze as guarded as it had been when you'd first met him. "I don't..."

"You've been hit by a memory spell, a very powerful one," you told him, resisting the urge to grab his hand. "It's given you temporary amnesia."

"Why are we fighting?" he rasped. "I... I don't know who to... She told me to fight you." He glanced back at the body. He seemed to be panicking a little now. "But then you killed her and now I... I don't want to kill you anymore."

"You don't have to," you promised. "You don't have kill us, Astarion, we're your friends."

"No, not them," he said. "Just you."

He raised his bow, an arrow already prepared and aimed for Gale's heart. You grabbed the bow, wrenching it from his hands and throwing it to the ground. He growled, deep and animalistic. His eyes flashed a brighter red and his lip pulled back from his fangs. They dripped with saliva.

Such a pretty monster, you thought. It will be a shame to rip out his heart.

But you didn't follow your urge. Instead, you slammed the pommel of your dagger into the side of his head. His eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled to the ground.

Gale shouted at you, utterly horrified. "What was that for?"

"He was going to kill you," you said. "I don't think there's anything we could have said that would stop him." You glared across the battlefield. "Let's deal with the rest of this and get him back to camp."

Shadowheart yanked the arrow out of Gale's shoulder and healed him quickly. You watched his skin knit back together with a strange fascination that tingled beneath your own skin, like you'd felt it before...

The rest of the goblins and wolves felt like they took no time at all. You were aware, of course, that your sense of time was disrupted by your worry; every so often, you cast a look toward Astarion's crumpled body, passed out but corpse-like for his lack of breathing. A discomforting desire shuddered through you at the sight.

He is my friend, you told the need in your gut that told you to kill him twice over. He trusts me. I will not hurt him.

Yet you weren't so sure you could trust yourself to keep that promise.

When enemies finally stopped swarming, you went back to the wizard's corpse. You dug through her pockets for anything useful. You found several amulets imbued with powerful magic and plenty of scrolls. You took her weapons without much thought; you could inspect them later, but you had more important matters to begin with.

"Is he alright?" Gale asked as you knelt beside Astarion.

"He should be," you said. "I didn't hit him that hard."

"Something tells me he won't be too pleased about that when he wakes up," Shadowheart said.

"If he remembers it, that is," Gale said. The wizard sounded the most worried you'd ever heard him. "That was a powerful memory adjustment spell."

You frowned. "It is temporary, isn't it?"

"I certainly hope so. For his sake and for ours," Gale replied. "Here. Let's get him back to camp. It's too dangerous to continue on with him like this."

Gale cast a levitation spell and Astarion's body rose. His face was obscenely peaceful and it dawned on you just how tortured he usually looked when he tranced. You cocked your head, wondering just how deep that memory spell was going.

A hand fell on your arm. "Is everything alright?" Shadowheart asked.

"I'm fine," you said. "Just thinking." You cleared your throat, tearing your eyes away from Astarion's slack face. "Come on. We've got a lot of ground to cover, and not a lot of daylight left."

~❊~

Astarion felt like he was...swimming? Maybe. Everything was fuzzy. His mind felt bizarrely empty and way too full at the same time. He saw nothing through his heavy, closed eyelids. Try as he might, he couldn't get them to open.

A sense of urgency was sitting in his chest. He had something to do, didn't he? He'd been...

The feeling of whatever it was, of holding something light and curved, of pulling his arm back and letting go, disappeared back into the murk.

Frustration bloomed in Astarion's mind. What was going on? Was this a trick of Cazador's?

Oh, there! That was...something. A person? Yes, an unpleasant person. Someone he was rather upset to have remembered, even if it meant at least there was something in this useless head of his.

A vile taste filled Astarion's mouth, like rat's blood and salty bodily fluids. Somehow, Astarion knew it was because of the person he despised so completely. Yet how?

Sudden hunger curled through Astarion's stomach. He groaned, clutching at his stomach. I have to hunt, he thought, but he still couldn't get his eyes open. Trying only pushed him further into the thick, liquid blackness that surrounded him.

Help, Astarion tried to say. His mouth remained closed. Someone help, someone get me out of here. Gods, please, get me out!

The silence of his mind answered him.

Astarion whimpered, curling into a ball. I'm so hungry, Master, he whined, but only one rough word came out, nearly lost in his throat. Once again, he was dragged back into darkness.

~❊~

"Astarion's not doing so hot."

Karlach's voice roused you from the thoughts swimming in your head. You sat back on your haunches, somewhat surprised to see the weapons you'd been sorting through from today's battles still in front of you in a heap. Had you gotten so lost in your thoughts you'd stopped working?

Never mind that, tend to the pretty corpse, you told yourself. You stood up, ignoring the saliva gathering on your tongue. "How so?"

"He's tossing and turning, groaning in his sleep," she said, chewing on her nails, glancing in the direction of the trancing elf.

"I'll check on him," you said.

You walked across camp toward Astarion's tent. When you'd gotten back to camp, Shadowheart had thought it wisest to keep him in view of everyone, just in case something went wrong, so Astarion currently lay on your own bedroll in front of his tent.

You could see Astarion's sleep had become fitful. He had tossed and turned so much that he'd thrown off the blanket he took everywhere that you'd put over him. His hair was beyond messy. His eyebrows were pinched together and he was panting unnecessarily.

A soft groan slipped past his lips as he rolled to one side, desperately hugging his arms to his stomach. You cocked your head. Was his hunger causing him to stir?

"At least we know I didn't kill him knocking him out," you said.

Karlach opened her mouth but was interrupted by Astarion's whimper. The two of you both looked at him again, concerned. "Master," he rasped.

Your body stiffened. You had a sudden need to keep Karlach away, sure these babblings were not something Astarion would want anyone to hear.

Why are you not also leaving him be? you asked yourself. You decided against answering that question.

"I'll keep an eye on him," you promised her.

Karlach gave you a curious look, then nodded. She turned away and headed back across camp.

You sat down beside Astarion. You peered down at him, his face fixed into an expression of pain.

Poor creature, you thought.

Astarion gave another whine of hunger, curling into the fetal position. Your own face pinched into an expression of sympathy. You took your dagger from its sheath and pricked your finger on it. With your free hand, you held open Astarion's mouth, then hovered your bleeding finger over it.

Achingly slowly, the blood dripped into Astarion's mouth.

~❊~

Food.

A sharp, iron tang filled his senses. He could smell it, so close he was sure if he could just convince his body to move through the sluggish black around him that he would be able to taste it—

Blood hit his tongue, the taste of a single droplet bringing saliva that coated his jaws. Another drop followed. One after the other, droplets of blood collected on his tongue. Somehow, he found it within himself to swallow.

Astarion knew this blood. The taste was oddly familiar, though it wasn't part of his regular diet. No, this was not the blood of bugs and rats—this was the blood of a thinking creature. One he'd feasted from before.

Master will torture me for this, he thought. Master will write more poetry on my skin.

But Astarion no longer found it in him to care. As more blood dripped into his mouth, he swallowed it down with enthusiasm.

Strength returned to his limbs. The hunger that plagued him constantly began to subside, easing into something bearable. Old aches and pains disappeared.

There you go, Astarion, a female voice said. She sounded close—and worried. Just drink. It will help.

Astarion obeyed on instinct. He knew this voice. It was uncannily familiar, the kind of voice he'd listen to for hours just to keep hearing it. Yet...where had he heard it? Was this a victim, coming back to haunt his memories? It certainly wasn't one of his sisters...

With a full belly, restlessness took over. Astarion quickly grew bored of the dark surrounding him. He shifted, the movement slowly bringing him back into his body. He huffed impatiently.

Are you coming back to me? the voice asked, accompanied by a soft touch on his cheek. A brief moment of silence followed, then— You're scaring the others, Little Star.

Astarion tensed. That name. No one called him that. His siblings knew better and his victims never got close enough, so...

A hand slipped into his hair. Panic took over. Astarion's scalp tingled. He anticipated pain to follow.

Something within him snapped—

~❊~

Astarion's eyes opened the same time the thread within him grew too taut. He lurched upward, a snarl on his lips. He bared his teeth, prepared to rip out the throat of whomever had touched him—

"Easy!" It was the same voice. The hand left his hair and pushed him back to the ground. A figure appeared over him. "It's just me!"

The voice stopped him. Astarion let himself be pushed back down—surprisingly gently, with only one hand on his shoulder. He focused on the figure above him and slowly your features come into focus.

You're...beautiful. Your hair has been pulled out of the way, leaving the concern and worry on your face clear to his eyes. Your eyes were wide, but you didn't seem to be afraid of him. In fact, the look on your face suggested you know his dangers all too well.

You were the answer to every prayer he'd always been too scared to voice.

Slowly, Astarion relaxed. You looked instantly relieved.

"It's me," you said again, calmer now. "Do you remember me yet?"

You lifted your hand to his cheek. Astarion could smell the blood on it—the same blood he'd just tasted. He turned toward it and saw the small slice in your finger.

"You fed me?" he asked.

You nodded. "Of course I did, Astarion."

Astarion flinched. "How do you know my name?"

Disappointment flickered in your eyes. "I'll take that as a no," you sighed. Only then did Astarion realize you'd asked him a question. "We travel together, Star. With our friends. So that we can get the tadpoles out of our heads?" You spoke slowly, trying to give him time to catch up.

But Astarion didn't recognize anything—except for the smell of your blood, which seemed so innate to him, beyond the taste of it on his tongue.

"I— I'm sorry, I don't know," he whispered.

"Nothing sounds familiar?" you asked. When he shook his head again, your disappointment showed on your face for a moment. You hid it quickly with your next breath, but Astarion saw it. "That's alright. It'll come back to you."

Fear suddenly wrapped its claws around his heart. "Will it?"

"Yes," you said firmly. "It will. I promise, Star." You took his hand in yours and squeezed gently. "And I'll be with you until you do remember."

A thousand questions swirled in his mind. Who were you? What had he done to deserve your kindness? How could you be so certain that he would recover?

Deep in his heart, he wondered if he even wanted to recover. The bits and pieces floating around inside his head... They were not pleasant. And yet, all he could think to ask was, "Why?"

You smiled softly at him, almost regretfully. You were silent for a long time, avoiding his gaze. Your hair just barely covered your eyes; Astarion could not make out your expression. At last, you raised your head toward him. "If you were in your right mind, you'd know." The muscle in your jaw feathered. In a hushed voice, you added, "Honestly, that scares me more than this."

Astarion's eyes narrowed. He felt like he was missing something, something obvious. You were hiding something, but he couldn't fathom what or why...

You turned away from his intense, questioning gaze. "Rest. I'll be here when you wake up." You pulled a knife from its sheath on your boot and a rag from your pocket. You began polishing it.

Astarion watched you for some time, entranced by the methodic way you cleaned your weapons, pausing to inspect the shine of the blade. It did not take long for the drowsy blackness to seep into the edges of his consciousness, taking over with every blink. Soon, there was nothing left but...

~❊~

You weren't entirely certain when Astarion had dozed off, just that you had suddenly felt the loss of his gaze. You glanced at him, his body still on your bedroll.

A few moments passed while you watched him. Once you were certain he was deep in his trance, you left his side to collect a handful of herbs and a water flask.

You measured out the herbs and tied them off in a mesh pouch. You steeped them in the cold water and watched the color change achingly slowly. Only when it had reached a greenish-yellow color did you gently reopen the bloody spot on your finger, hissing as the skin split again, and let your blood drip into the mixture.

You stared down at it, watching the blood sink to the bottom of the bowl. The herbs, meant to help improve memory, ought to do something for his memory loss... Or so you hoped.

With Astarion still trancing, you left the herbs to steep. You returned to your own tent briefly to retrieve a book to read while you waited for him to wake.

The evening passed surprisingly slowly. You got through several chapters before you were interrupted by a gentle tap on your shoulder. You looked up to find Gale offering you a plate of food.

"Thank you, Gale," you said, accepting it after you'd put your book down. "How's the arm?"

"You're welcome. All healed up, thanks to Shadowheart," he said. He glanced at your mixture. "Is that for Astarion?"

You nodded. "It's a bunch of herbs to help improve memory. I was thinking it might speed up the 'temporary' part of the wizard's spell."

He thought for a moment. "I have a few spells that might help," he said. "Pass me the bowl."

You did so and watched curiously as Gale muttered a few quiet incantations over the mixture. When he passed the bowl back to you, the water faintly glowed lavender.

"That should help," he said.

"What did you do?" you asked, frowning. You hadn't recognized any of his mutterings.

Gale bit back a smile. "Those spells should increase the herbs' potency. It will strengthen the potion, and our elf's ability to retain his memory."

For a moment, you just stared at him. Then you said, "You have to teach me those spells."

Gale smiled. "Anytime," he promised. He nodded to the plate he'd given you. "Eat. You need your strength, too."

You nodded and ate quickly. Astarion shifted in his trance, mumbling quietly. You glanced at him and heaved a sigh when you realized he was, once again, clutching his stomach.

"You are a pain to feed when you can't bite me," you said to him before once again opening your finger and letting your blood drip into his mouth. Yet you weren't nearly as annoyed as you sounded; you honestly didn't mind caring for the elf. Gods knew he deserved it.

You returned to your book until night fell. The others came to check on you and Astarion before they retired. Wyll put out the campfire and you looked at the vampire still knocked out on your bedroll.

"Guess we're sharing again," you murmured to him and wriggled into your bedroll. You got cozy, comforted by his presence, despite everything. You rolled to put your back to him, but whispered over your shoulder, "Good night, Astarion."

~❊~

Astarion woke up very suddenly, a scream in his throat. He covered his mouth with a hand before it could come out. He lay that way for several moments, trying to calm the sense of panic in him from yet another nightmare of his master, before he realized he was not in his tent. Or any tent.

His head rolled to the right, toward the heat next to him and the scent of you. You had curled up beside him, your back to him, some distance between the two of you. For some reason, his heart sank. Why hadn't you cuddled up close to him?

Bits and pieces of memory hit him with a pounding headache: something slamming into his chest, loosing an arrow from his bow into Gale's shoulder, waking up and lunging for you, watching you sharpen your knives...

Gods, what had happened over the past few days. When had they left that battlefield?

Astarion glanced at your sleeping form again. A deep ache sat in his chest; he wanted... Gods, did he really? He wanted to hold you. He wanted you in his arms.

For her heat, he told himself as he rolled onto his side and closer to you, draping his arm over your middle. He ignored the fact that his explanation did not cover the little kiss he pressed to the nape of your neck.

You stirred in your sleep. "Little Star?" you murmured, pushing back against his chest.

"Don't wake up," he murmured. "I'm here."

He watched a sweet, sleepy smile cross your face. "It worked," you mumbled. You hand came up to slide into his and squeeze gently.

Astarion frowned. "What worked?"

You rolled to face him, even though your eyes remained closed. "I'll tell you in the morning," you said. You yawned and nuzzled your face in his chest, apparently happy to hide in the fabric of his shirt and his scent. You hummed. "My pretty little death."

There you were with your strange little sayings. Astarion raised his eyebrow, assuming you'd caught a whiff of his (albeit faint) odor of death. "Do I need more perfume?"

"No," you said, quite adamantly. "Smells good."

Astarion bit back a giddy, boyish smile. "If you say so." He put his hand into your hair, fingers scratching your scalp gently. You hummed contentedly and, within seconds, fell back asleep against him.

He wrapped his other arm around you as well, pressing you close to him. A twinge of hunger passed through him, but he ignored it; while you had told him plenty of times he could feed while you slept, he'd rather wait until the morning than risk waking you again.

Too alert to fall back to sleep, Astarion looked down at you. He brushed a few strands of your hair from your face, reveling in the softness of your hair and skin. He brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, content to admire you until his eyes got tired of you. Truthfully, he wasn't sure that day would ever come.

"Oh, you," he murmured. He kissed the top of your head and you lifted your head toward him while you slept, turning your face toward him. Like a sunflower seeking the sun, he thought, a very old distant memory surfacing—his tiny hand in a bigger one, belonging to someone telling him to look at the big yellow flowers in front of him...

He was your sun. And you were...his.

Something in his chest stirred. It wasn't quite a heartbeat, but it was very close: a fluttering in his heart, truly awakening for the first time. A shuddering breath escaped Astarion's lips.

Oh.

Through the fuzz of the past few hours, Astarion dimly remembered you smiling at him, soft and sad and unsure, sorrow in your voice as you said, If you were in your right mind, you'd know. Honestly, that scares me more than this.

And Astarion did know. He did.

Oh.

"My darling," Astarion murmured, shifting to curl his body around yours. You responded in your sleep, clinging tightly to him. He kissed your cheek and then rested his head against yours, watching the sky and patiently waiting for the sun to rise.

For the first time in two hundred years, the gods had finally listened.

~❊~

Your body registered the warmth of the sun before you fully woke. It spread through you, spreading a lazy comfort through you. You slipped between peaceful sleep and fuzzy wakefulness for some time before lips roused you completely.

Tiny kisses covered your cheeks and nose. A hand cupped your cheek. "Wake up, my love," a soft voice said. Your heart warmed and your eyes flickered open. Astarion!

His crimson eyes crinkled with a smile when you looked at him. "There she is," he whispered, fonder than you had ever heard him.

"You're back," you murmured, overjoyed to be his love again but desperately tamping the feeling down. He would certainly see it now if you were not careful to hide your heart.

"What happened?" he asked. "I remember fighting goblins, but nothing else until I woke up to you avoiding me in your sleep." His tone was teasing, but there was something else there—some little bit of vulnerability. Your heart began to beat faster in your chest.

You propped your head up on your hand. "It's a long story, Star."

"Tell it to me while I feed," he suggested, already shifting to perform your morning ritual.

You rolled onto your opposite side and exposed your neck to him, sweeping your hair out of the way. "Alright," you said, barely suppressing a shudder as his lips brushed your skin, leaving a soft, yearning kiss.

What has gotten into him today? you wondered.

Astarion finally sunk his teeth into your neck. You let him take one, two, three swallows of your blood before you began talking. You spared no details, telling him what had happened since he'd been hit with a memory spell as steadily as you could with him sucking at your neck.

When he was finished, Astarion licked over the holes in your neck until they stopped bleeding.

"Thank you," he said, uncharacteristically quiet. "For the meal and for staying with me. I can't imagine it was easy work."

You looked up at him, entranced by the flush on his cheeks. You reached up to cup his face, admiring him for a moment before snapping out of your daze. "No, it...it was fine. It was..." You.

A smile twitched at the corners of his lips. Your heart sank into your stomach. He knows. Gods, he knows how I feel.

Astarion took your chin in his hand and lifted your head. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. He looked at you with that sweet, fond look in his eyes for a moment. Then they fluttered shut as he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours.

Your surprise melted quickly into content as his thumb stroked your jaw instead. He tasted vaguely of iron; arousal fluttered through you, your urge only growing more powerful at the taste of your lifeblood on his tongue. Yet it slipped away as Astarion cuddled closer to you, sheltering within your arms, his lips never leaving yours. His soft, barely audible moans, were like an epic poem, his kiss a balm to the worry that had been building in your chest.

He feels it, too.

You broke away for a moment of air. "Astarion," you whispered and he let out a feral growl, chasing your lips eagerly. But for all his eagerness, it was not the kisses he gave you before he ravaged you. He was softer, slower. You felt the promise he was making you in that moment.

The kiss went on. The dynamic changed slowly; his fangs scraped across your lips—his tongue slipped into your mouth—your tongue into his—he suckled on your lower lip—you gently held his lip between your teeth—your fingers curled in his hair—his hand on your neck.

You let Astarion decide when he was done, happy to kiss him slowly. Your hand fell to his chest and rested above his unbeating heart. He hummed into your mouth.

When he did finally pull away, his cheeks were delightfully red, the tips of his ears pink. His eyes fluttered. A slow, content smile formed on his lips.

You kissed his forehead. He turned a deeper shade of red. "Thank you, my Star."

Astarion nuzzled into you. "Darling..." He dropped his mouth to your neck, once again kissing his feeding place. "I don't want to stop."

You smiled. "So don't."

Astarion was kissing you again in an instant, his hands cupping your face, cradling you close. You melted into him, giving control over to your pretty corpse.

You were interrupted by a throat clearing above you just as a shadow fell over the two you. Your lips parted from Astarion's as you both looked up, somewhat guiltily.

Lae'zel stood above you, already ready to move on. "Unstick your maws," she ordered with a snort. "We must go." She left as quickly as she had arrived, but watching after her made it clear the rest of camp had also been watching the two of you.

"Maws," Astarion mused.

"She's right," you said, sitting up. "We should get ready."

Astarion caught your hand and pressed a tender kiss to your fingers. "Alright, my love."

The two of you slipped out of the bedroll. You helped Astarion fix his hair, mussed by sleep and your hands, and then the two of you packed up your belongings quickly to catch up with the others. You hadn't realized just how much time had passed while you got lost with him.

"Good morning!" Gale said cheerily, striding over, a twinkle in his eye. "I see Astarion's regained his memory!"

You glanced up in time to see Astarion blush and give Gale the universal look that meant 'shut up' and realized Gale had known all along. When had the two of them gotten close enough for that? Or was Gale just very good at reading people?

"I have," Astarion said coolly, recovering. "Our lovely leader here has filled me in on what happened while I was...indisposed." He looked awkward for a moment, then continued, "I apologize for shooting you, wizard."

"Apology accepted," Gale said matter-of-factly. He lifted his arm to prove it had healed. "No harm done!"

You finished up with your packing. "Where are we off to today?" you asked Gale. "Have the others decided?"

He pulled a face. "Everyone's got their own ideas," he said tactfully. "I think it'd be best if you decided what we handled first."

You sighed. "You mean that Shadowheart and Lae'zel are trying to kill each other, and I have to stop them and take the heat from whoever I piss off more."

Gale winced. "Yes, something like that."

"Alright. I'll be right there."

Gale nodded and started back toward where the others were gathered. You watched him go with a sigh.

"Is that why Lae'zel interrupted us?" Astarion asked. "Because if she thinks that's a way to gain favor, she's most certainly wrong."

You giggled at him. "Did someone want to keep kissing?"

He tried to hold your gaze, but looked away as his ears turned pink again. "Maybe," he muttered.

You kissed his cheek. "Later," you promised. You offered him your hand. "Come on. Let's get this sorted."

"Alright, my love," he said—a new phrase of his, it seemed—and took your hand. For a moment, he just looked at you, like there was something he wanted to say. You paused.

"What is it?" you asked.

He shook his head, a tiny smile on his lips now. "Nothing." You raised your eyebrow. "We'll talk about it later."

You nodded. "Alright."

You walked toward your bickering companions. Lae'zel was muttering about the creche, Shadowheart adamantly refusing not to go, with Wyll and Karlach trying to placate them both. At least those two weren't still at each other's throats.

The minute Shadowheart saw you, she darted over. "We have to get to the Temple of Shar," she started. "We made so much progress before we reached the goblins—"

"Chk! Our top priority should be the creche—"

Shadowheart glared at the githyanki. "We are not going to the creche!"

"We are going to neither place just yet, and you are both staying here in camp until you learn to get along," you said sharply. You saw Astarion smirk out of the corner of your eye. "Gale, Karlach, you'll come with me and Astarion. We'll see how far we can get and make a decision from there."

Karlach pulled a face. "Are you two going to kiss all day?" she complained.

You rolled your eyes. "That depends on how much you annoy me. Now, come on. I'd like to get going. And for the love of all, can we please avoid memory spells?"

Gale bit back a smile. "Are you certain? It seems to me you've gotten something rather good out of it." He glanced down at your fingers, still twined with Astarion's.

You glanced at Astarion. "Yes," you agreed. "And he is enough for me." You kissed his cheek again. For only his ears, you whispered, "I mean that, you know."

He smiled at you. "I know."

"Good," you said. You kissed him quickly.

You waited for Gale and Karlach to get what they needed with your head resting on Astarion's shoulder. You knew as well as any that you were far from steady; you still had much to talk about. You looked up at Astarion and found a far-off look in his eyes, one that looked a little too much like sorrow for your liking.

Astarion's "nothing" was looking an awful lot like "something."

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

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writingrock · 3 months ago

Text

petals of longing

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral) summary: after spending time with bakugou, you couldn't help but make the dire mistake of falling in love with him.

notes: angst, unrequited love, hanahaki disease, mentions of blood, college! katsuki bakugou, rejection

word count: 2.2k

a/n: I lied, I have more angst in my drafts.

edit: there's a continuation here

Has he ever noticed you?

After listening to Bakugou talk about training for the past hour, you couldn’t help but rethink about your presence in his life. The two of you are in his dorm room, having another one of those late night conversations. You weren’t sure when but having late nights together became normal.

It didn’t matter whose room or what the conversations were. The only thing that mattered was that it had to only be the two of you. At first, it started off as night study sessions but it devolved into something more casual.

The two of you got close by chance. It all started with some assignment where the two of you happened to be paired up. From the beginning of the project, he had displayed his frustration to be paired with you. Something about being paired with ‘some extra’. You paid no mind to his comments and essentially forced him to comply with you.

Bakugou did eventually get used to you. Working with you was effortless. Not like he'd ever admit that. He liked working with someone who cared like you. It was refreshing to see someone match his hardworking nature. There were late nights and countless revisions over this project. It was tiring. You could recall how badly you wanted to yank your eyeballs out during certain nights.

But the two of you kept encouraging the other, keeping each other alive and motivated. Bakugou always specifically made sure you were eating. To the point where he cooked for you during those study sessions. It was always paired with his long spiel about how important it is to take care of your body. Ironic, considering the number of sleepless nights the two of you shared over this project.

But it was all worth it when the assignment returned highly-graded. The look on Bakugou’s face when he read the commendations from the professor was memorable. Pure satisfaction. These two words describe his expression perfectly. The way his eyes gleamed with a sense of achievement when he read the professor’s comments.

You’d never seen such a proud grin stretched on his face. “We make a pretty good team.” he remarked as he admired the result displayed on your laptop’s screen. You should have realised then that you saw him differently. Whilst his eyes remained glued to the screen, yours were admiring him.

You thought that would be the last you’d see of Katsuki Bakugou. That the two of you would return to being strangers after the project. Afterall, he wasn’t ecstatic in being your project partner initially. To your surprise, Bakugou started hanging around you. In subtle ways of course. It started with small texts about lectures— asking about deadlines, exchanging notes and arranging study sessions.

At first, you didn’t think much about it and figured it was beneficial to both parties to become study partners. But it slowly became more than that when he started inviting you to do stuff with him. Accompanying him to the grocery store because he needed help with the groceries. Making you watch him cook so you could learn and try his new recipe. Then eating with him because he made too much.

Before you knew it, the two of you became friends. A friendship that most did not expect and even questioned. Spending time with him brought the two of you closer. Peeling back the layers of Bakugou and uncovering the nuances that uniquely made him who he is. Learning easy details about him like his favourite foods and hobbies. Occasionally, you'd hear snippits of his deeper thoughts if he'd allow.

You even got used to his insults, forming witty comebacks in response to them. It stunned him when you fired back at his words for the first time. Resulting in endless banter you deal with daily. His brash exterior you once deemed unnecessarily aggressive became something you understood. The closer you got, the softer he became. However, with that came a flower.

A tulip.

A blood-stained, pink tulip that you retched out one night. You jolted awake one night, gasping desperately for air. Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps as the coughing fit intensified, each spasm more forceful than the last. Did you get sick? Another violent cough wracked your body. No, this is definitely something else. Fear gripped your heart when you realised how clogged your throat felt. The panic you felt that night was unmatched to anything you’ve ever experienced. Throwing the covers off your body, your mind raced for answers. The air felt thick, suffocating, as you stumbled out of bed. You barely made it to the bathroom, the cold tile floor sending a shock through your bare feet. What was happening to you?

Falling to your knees in front of the sink, your reflection in the mirror blurred by the tears welling up in your eyes. Your heart pounded hard against your chest. With a final, desperate heave, the mystery lodged in your throat finally gave way. You doubled over the sink, feeling something solid and foreign in your mouth. Trembling, you opened your lips, and a delicate pink tulip fell into the sink, its petals slightly crushed but unmistakably beautiful. The vibrant colour stood out starkly against the white porcelain, its soft edges smeared with the faintest trace of blood. A cold wave of realisation settled in your gut like a stone. You have it don’t you. You weakly draw a slow breath. Hanahaki disease—the tragic, unspoken affliction of the lovelorn. A disease born from unrequited love.

You just had to fall in love with him.

The tulip in your hand was just the beginning, the first bloom of many. And as you stared at its delicate beauty, you felt the bitter sting of irony—the same love that had once filled your heart with warmth and hope was now destined to consume you, one petal at a time.

花言葉 Hana ko to ba: チューリップ Tulips [ pink ] - caring, attachment, happiness

Has he ever noticed you? Did he notice the times you’ve hurriedly excused yourself to throw up these plague of flowers? How much weaker have you been? Or even the trail of pink petals you leave behind? Your eyes find him leaning against the bed frame, scrolling on his phone. Oblivious to your suffering. How you wish you could be blissfully ignorant too. It’s been a month since you learnt of your condition. You’ve tirelessly tried to fall out of love with Bakugou. Avoiding the areas he frequents and making lame excuses that you can’t see him. Texting him less and telling yourself that he’s just some asshole. He’s not even that good looking. Right? His deep, rumbley voice isn’t attractive at all. Bakugou’s voice belongs to an old man who eats cigarettes. Plus, his attitude sucks. There's absolutely no reason for you to love him.

Oh, but… one look at him and it all crumbles down. His eyes, fierce and crimson, are like molten embers—burning with a relentless fire that you’ve always admired. Those wild locks you love to run your hands through. His chaotic crown of ash-blond spikes that comedically defy gravity. It frames his face in a way that accentuates his sharp features. Specifically his irritatingly perfect, sculpted jawline. And, of course, his voice never did sound like a senile smoker. You’ve always found his gravelly undertone to be hot. His looks weren't the only thing that made you gravitate to him. The air around him crackles with raw energy and confidence. He's strong-willed and fierce, he's unforgettable. You want to be by his side and watch him achieve his ambitions. Aside from all that, it's how soft he becomes when it's just the two of you. No matter how much you told yourself you didn’t love him, he only needed to appear for your heart to race. Lying to yourself was useless.

Deep in your lungs, you could feel a tightness that’s been building for weeks. You knew it was getting worse yet you refused to confess. But this curse wasn’t going to give you time. It hits you hard. You catch on quickly that this flowery misfortune is flaring up now. With you sat on the floor of his dorm. The pain in your chest intensifies, a sharp, burning sensation that spreads to your throat. Your stomach twists with anxiety and fear, but beneath it all, there’s a quiet, desperate hope. It dawns on you that you are unable to keep your secret for much longer. You have to tell him now. It doesn’t take long for Bakugou to take notice of your pain. Alarmed, he goes to your side, putting his hand on your back.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You don’t look too good.” His voice carries a gentle warmth, confused with the sudden change from you. Softly, he rubs circles on your back in an attempt to soothe you. Unfortunately for you, his concern only makes the tightness worsen.

“Katsuki, I have to tell you something– ” Your voice trembles as you utter those words. You’re barely holding it together from the twisted pain. Just as you take one shaky breath, a cough forces its way through. A red petal lips past your lips, falling to the floor. The petal alone being the confession you were meant to voice. You press your hand over your mouth, letting out a sob.

花言葉 Hana ko to ba: チューリップ Tulips [ red ] - declaration of love, true love, eternal love, romantic love, believe me

“I… love you Katsuki. I’ve always loved you.” The words come out in a rush, each one a painful release. “From that moment we got assigned together, you’ve taken my heart.” You can’t stop the tears now; they spill over, sliding down your reddened cheeks. Each breath you take brings another cough, another handful of those red petals, each one soaked in the essence of your clandestine love. The petals start to fall faster now, flooding the floor with these red tulips.

Bakugou is frozen in place. His widened eyes stuck onto the floor that is now scattered with red petals and tulips. The moment that petal flew out, he knew what you’ve been suffering with. Reluctantly, he turns to look at you. “You…” What does he even say in this moment? Words lose him as his mind races for a solution for this whole situation. Something has to ease your pain. Is there a cure for this unforgiving disease? Bakugou knows himself and the reality of this situation. The cold, harsh reality is that he doesn’t love you. His features harden as he grits his teeth, swallowing hard. “You… hopeless idiot. Fucking hell.” Is all he manages to say. He can’t bring himself to crush you with the raw truth. His lips twist into a scowl. Why did you fall in love with him? Why did you make the mistake of loving him? You absolute fool.

“I never wanted you to fall for me.” he wished to say.

He doesn’t need to say it. Another flurry of petals erupt from your mouth. These red tulips are stained with blood. The fluid sticking on them in sickly sweet fashion. His hesitancy is the only answer you need. His silence speaks volumes. Bakugou does not love you. Your heart sinks as you find the courage to face him. To take one look at the handsome face you’ve grown to love. However with one look, you regret ever catching a glimpse of him. That detached, impassionate expression of his shattered your heart. How could he look at you with such indifference as you regurgitate your declaration of love. You didn’t blame him for not feeling the same way. But the way he looks at you makes you feel sick. You couldn't accept how he's looking at your pain as if it were meaningless.

He looks at you like you’re nothing to him.

“Look.” With your remaining strength, you fist up a bundle of these petals. Shoving them in front of his distant gaze. You wanted him to see them, the raw consequences of your love for him. Red petals, dripping in red secretions in your grasp. Blood dripping from your fingers to the floor. “I am literally head over heels for you,” You spat, a few more petals leaving your mouth. Facing his glare with your own. It’s hard to speak but you need to. You need to scream at him. Did all of your memories with him mean nothing? To look at you with such an apathetic expression hurts you more than this wretched disease. There never was a chance for the two of you.

“But here you are,” You scoff as you lower your hand. Letting the petals sink to the floor. You should have known better. He's right. You're just a pathetic fool. A fool that can't even bring herself to hate him even now. “indifferent to everything that I’m feeling.” A full bulb of a tulip tumbles from your mouth. The final, yellow tulip lands silently by their feet. Your heart sinks, and the pain in your chest doesn’t disappear. Why does your quivering heart still beat with such passion for him? The yellow tulip stands alone, its petals vibrant and golden, glowing softly in the light. Blood clinging onto its velvety surface and seeping into the grooves of the petals. Everything dissipates, you only feel despondent.

花言葉 Hana ko to ba: チューリップ Tulips [ yellow ] - brightness, sunshine, hopeless love, unrequited love

You pull away from his embrace, accepting the rejection. Wobbling as you rise to your feet and turn to the door. Bakugou tries to reach for you, trying to find the right words. You don’t entertain him, swatting his hand away as you shake your head. Turning to the door before he could catch sight of the fresh tears in your eyes. You walk out the door with heavy steps and an aching heart. Now with every breath, flowers bloom within you to remind you of a love that will never be reciprocated. Your unrequited love.

a/n: just something quick because my brain was rotting. I don't offer free therapy on my blog, sorry :) @chocogoldie

In case you needed me to say it, hanatokoba is japanese flower language.

Reader's last words are from the angst prompts over at @me-writes-prompts !!!

border credits: @enchanthings & @adornedwithlight

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 7 months ago

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imagining ghoul just being completely dazzled by vaultie reader….their beauty, their clean teeth and nails, their skin…the softest, smoothest skin he’s seen in hundreds of years. he could hardly remember how it looked til now.

he’d watch over you while you slept by the fire he made with such fascination, studying your features like this when he knew you wouldn’t be able to raise an eyebrow at him and he could allow himself to be relaxed and let down his tough guy wall (after all, you only just met a few days before).

and when you roll up the pants of your suit one day in the heat and expose your legs…he sees they’re perfectly waxed (who knew they had that in the vaults?) and it takes everything he has not to just reach out and touch them.

Smooth Skin

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Vault Dweller

Word Count: 3,109

Warnings: smut (18+), sexual tension, masturbation (male), mild somnophilia, very mild angst.

Summary: Cooper's new companion is beyond distracting.

Notes: Another excellent submission! I have had VERY similar thoughts about how people in the vaults would still adhere to so many old grooming practices that had long disappeared from most of the Wasteland. It would be such a weird thing for non-vault dwellers to see, and not being able to maintain them would be quite the shock for vault dwellers.

Also, this poor old man wouldn't consciously recognize the feeling of "arousal inspired by a specific person" if you beat him over the head with it. It's been about 200 years since he felt it.

Cooper was beginning to wonder if he'd been screwed.

Holding the deeply familiar vial up to the light once more, he gave the liquid contents a shake, examining the consistency, the color, the weight. For the half dozenth time that hour, he lifted it to the open cavity in his face where his nose once sat, inhaling deeply, testing for any unfamiliar odors, ultimately finding none. Lifting the solution to his lips, he tasted it, once, twice, rolling it around in his mouth with deep suspicion.

Everything seemed to be normal about the latest bunch of vials he'd acquired, at least on the surface. However, he was beginning to worry that he'd been given some sort of dud batch, and now he was starting to dissolve into some sort of ferality.

But this didn't feel like the dozens of other times he'd cut it close over the years, when his chest constricted, fighting for every breath as his mind began to cloud with aggressive thoughts, making him feel ready to lash out at anything that moved. No, he could breathe just fine, and he didn't necessarily feel aggressive, but he did feel oddly tense and ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. It didn't seem like anything had changed about his treatment.

Then again, something else had changed pretty drastically over the last few days.

Standing in the baking sun, he waited impatiently for the little vault-dweller he'd inexplicably managed to become attached to to finish her business, infinitely more fidgety than usual. He scanned the horizon with uncharacteristically anxious eyes, his boot tapping in the dirt.

"C'mon, Vaultie! Move your ass!" he called, harsher than he intended, but when the girl came scurrying up out of the ditch, he offered no apology, simply jerking his head in the direction they'd already been headed down the road, waiting for her to get a step or two ahead of him so he could follow, watching her closely.

Very closely.

The old cowboy prided himself on his ability to analyze people, to figure things out about them long before they were disclosed. It had proved an immensely useful skill over and over again. This girl, however, confused him. The pristine cheeriness of her was unsettling, making her stand out clear as day against the dingy, angry, consuming Wasteland.

He didn't trust it, frankly. It had been a long time since he'd met anyone who was genuinely selfless and kind simply because they felt it the right thing to do. She was definitely hiding something, concealing her true nature, but at least she was good at it. Besides, he'd be lying to himself if he said part of the reason he allowed her to tag along with him wasn't that he didn't want to walk past her pretty little corpse on the side of the road in a few days...as if there would be a corpse leftover. At least, a recognizable one.

Ahead of him, the girl caught her boot on a crack in the ancient asphalt, sending her stumbling; his quick reflexes kicked in almost instantly, and he yanked her back by her suit sleeve, sighing when she cast a sheepishly apologetic glance his way. He rolled his eyes and gave her a small push to keep it moving, watching as her hair swished back and forth with her movements.

How many decades had it been since he'd seen a woman with long hair? Maybe it had even been a century, or more. Most women in the Wasteland kept their hair cropped fairly short; easier to care for, less for someone to grab onto if you were attacked. Shampoo was still fairly easy to acquire, but only because most people didn't have consistent access to enough clean water to bathe with. Hair could also be sold in some cases, and many people found themselves desperate enough to do something like that in this world, unfortunate as it was.

But this girl, her dark curls hung down to her waist, flowing down her back and shoulders elegantly, or laid along her spine in a neat braid when she got especially red and sweaty. It was so shiny; he wanted to run his fingers through it for some reason, so badly that when she'd bumped into him their first day of travel, her view obscured by the dark curtain, he didn't even think to scold her, too busy willing himself to not thread his fingers into the soft strands. When he was close enough, he noticed that it smelled like wildflowers.

He'd met her just outside Filly. Where she was headed, a few settlements northwest to find an aunt or a sister or a grandmother or something, wasn't the most perilous route she'd shown him on her Pip Boy (in a very surreal conversation where she'd treated him like he was any other man), but she was already showing that she wasn't truly equipped to make it there intact. Hell, she had flagged him down for directions, in a move that had made him genuinely wonder if he hadn't done too much Jet that morning. That little maneuver wouldn't get her killed with him (at least, on the right day) but it would quickly get her robbed or worse with many others.

His first instinct had been to leave her to her fate, but he found that he just couldn't leave her there on the side of the road, that blinding white smile, those big, round eyes, her basically pristine vault suit making her stand out like a sore thumb. Begrudgingly, he had agreed to let her walk with him to where she was going.

She tired rather quickly compared to him, his condition making thermoregulation much less of a concern. His soft new companion, however, was unaccustomed to the sun, to the heat, and was often too exhausted to continue in any real capacity by the time the sun set. The nights got cold, colder than it seemed she'd anticipated, and she chattered her way through that whole first evening; each subsequent night, he'd built a small fire to keep her warm through the coldest part. It annoyed him immensely, having to expose them in the dark like that, but, oddly, he found that he equally disliked watching her shiver on the ground.

"Do you think we could stop for a while?" she asked suddenly, stopping in her tracks to turn to him and nearly slamming into his chest in the process. His hand braced on her shoulder, slightly shoving her aside so they didn't collide; the hand that touched her tingled when he pulled it away, and he cast a quick glance at his palm.

"You're really pushin' it today, kid. You know that?" he growled, his tone dripping with unconcealed irritation. They could easily get at least a few more hours of walking in before the sun went down, and once she stopped walking for the day, it was hard to get her going again.

The way her eyes widened at him before dropping to the ground actually made him feel guilty, flooring him just a little. He held his face in its usual neutral mask.

"I'm sorry." she murmured, chastened. "I'm just not used to walking so long in the heat."

Immediately, he rolled his eyes, though whether he was rolling them at her or at himself, he genuinely didn't know. Casting his eyes further down the road, then around where they'd stopped, they fell onto a clutch of old, dead trees and rocks, a small amount of shade gathering there. It was well concealed enough, he supposed.

"Fine. We can stop over there. But we're gonna get a few more miles in today, at least, so don't get comfy."

Flashing him those perfect teeth again, she quickly made her way off the road and threw herself down at the base of the largest tree, hiding from the sun as best as she could. He took the opportunity to dig some food out of his bag, have another smoke or two, and reflect on his choices, his back to her by and large as he watched the road.

"I didn't know the sun was so bright." she huffed after while, her tone almost petulant. "Or so hot."

He turned back to her, a slick reply about her general naivete locked and loaded, but he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of her sat there on the ground, tugging off her boots and socks. Folding each sock into a neat little ball, she tucked them into their corresponding mate and sat them aside, stretching her legs out in front of her. Quiet, he watched her roll up each pant leg to her knee, as high as the cut of the material would allow, reclining back in the small patch of shade she'd found.

Those toned, smooth calves that peeked out at him were the most intriguing thing he'd seen in a minute, his eyes practically glued to the exposed skin. There was a softness to her that he thought didn't exist anymore; in her supple body, the way she actually held a little extra fat from years of being fed and safe in a vault, the soft, clear expanse of her skin, her clean, manicured fingernails. Oddly enough, he found himself deeply wanting to reach out and wrap one of his hands around her ankle, the other running up the taut muscle of her leg. He shoved the feeling down and turned back to the road, fidgeting.

A while later, the sun was dipping behind the horizon, but still frying everything it touched when she finally spoke again.

"Do you wanna get going soon?" she called, tone much more relaxed than before.

He turned to look at her again, having avoided doing so for over an hour, her sleeves rucked up to her elbows as well, and shook his head.

"Nah. Might as well just bed down here and get some sleep. Good a place as any, I guess. I wanna cover some real ground tomorrow." he replied, keeping his tone noncommittal. "Get your rest, princess. If you can't keep up tomorrow, I'm leaving your ass behind."

She shot him a look, somewhere between evaluating whether or not he was serious and rolling her eyes at his continued unpleasantness, but she didn't respond outside of a simple nod, sinking back down onto the ground and closing her eyes. Once the sun went down fully, he went around gathering up dried sticks and brush to build a small fire, setting up near where she was obviously quickly falling asleep, curled up on her side and using her backpack as a pillow.

Cooper kept watch for a few hours as it quickly darkened, the girl falling soundly asleep as he sat polishing his guns. Eventually, he grew bored of weapon maintenance, and his eyes were drawn to the vault dweller lying a few feet to his side.

He leaned closer, allowing himself to inspect her face closer than he'd had a chance to thus far. Walking behind her all day allowed him plenty of time to study her silhouette, her gait, the dancing length of her hair. But her face was always hidden, and when she turned to face him, he felt unable to look her in the eye for too long without that itch creeping into his brain, sending him searching through his pockets for his inhaler.

Now that he could take a long, uninterrupted look at her without worrying about being caught, it finally dawned on him, though, not immediately:

Fuck, she was beautiful.

And she was, and would have been if he'd met her in another life, too, each feature of her more appealing than the next. That long hair had been braided back away from her face, the length of it coiled like a snake along her back as she snored ever-so-lightly, her head sitting crookedly against her backpack. Before he could even think about it, his hand had already been tugged loose of his glove and reached out to softly pet at it, the strands silken under his bare fingers.

When did he get so close to her?

He thought back to her exposed legs, now hidden back away beneath her pant legs, kicked most of the way back down to assist in keeping her warm, and thought about how there had been no hair there. Many aspects of grooming that had once been normal were long lost to him, but that was certainly one of the biggest ones. He had completely forgotten that women once generally shaved the hair from their legs, and how big a deal it was considered when they didn't. He'd thought it was a silly thing to expect then; now, it just seemed like a sad thing to fixate on, with all that had been going on at the time.

However, that didn't stop him from imagining how smooth, how silky her legs would feel if he ran his hands along them, how high the smoothness would go until he would be able to feel the presence of downy little body hairs, the likes of which he hadn't had himself in centuries. Would they start at her knees? Or would he have to feel all the way up to the tops of her pillowy thighs to feel them? He remembered, vaguely, that some women would shave between their legs, too, and wondered if she did that as well.

Why was he thinking about what was between her legs?

His brain was so foggy the longer he looked at her, his one free hand quickly moving to dig his inhaler out of his pocket, taking the longest drag he could take off of it. It didn't clear his mind, didn't stop him from feeling like he wanted to touch more of her, to lean close and smell her, taste her. A hard shudder broke down his spine, and his cock set to throbbing in his pinstriped pants, his teeth gnashing. He was anxious to get to the next big settlement so he could buy new vials; he was convinced there was something wrong with these ones.

Regardless, he could breathe fine and didn't feel like a threat to the girl, necessarily...so his attention shifted, rather sourly, to his aching erection, now straining against his thigh.

It wasn't that he never masturbated; he was still a man beneath all the rads and rot, and his sex drive had never fully died, only dwindled down to a single flame whose presence didn't usually draw any attention from him. But it wasn't something he relished in, no more than eating food he couldn't really taste anymore to sustain himself or feigning sleep to allow his legs and back to rest. It was simply another need that had to be met on occasion; a quick tug at himself, not thinking of anything in particular, until he spilled onto the ground and went on with his life. It never needed to be more than that.

Now, however, his entire gut was aflame, the smell of her filling the air and further intoxicating him, his still-gloved hand moving to press against his cock through the fabric, the feeling leaving him arching his hips slightly up into his own touch. He wanted so badly to touch more than her hair, but knew that it wasn't advisable; the girl slept more soundly than anyone in the Wasteland, it seemed, but if she were to wake up and find him touching himself beside her, who knows what trouble there would be?

He couldn't touch her, but that didn't mean he couldn't study her, running his eyes over each part of her over and over again as the light and warmth of the fire slowly died down. He was tracing curve of her breasts and the way it flowed into the little roll of her belly for the umpteenth time, grinding hard against his hand, by the time the flames died down completely. She'd curled almost completely in on herself, hiding her face against her hands, and he wished he could look closer at it again as he slunk closer and closer to the edge.

As if she could read his mind, she suddenly rolled onto her back, resettling quickly as her head slid fully off of the bag. The mild highlights of the moon played along her face and torso, her plush lips parting in a soft, dreamy sigh. Fleetingly, he wondered if she would make that sound for him if he touched her just right, and, embarrassingly, that thought was enough to put an end to him.

The orgasm that washed over him granted some mild relief, his spend pooling in a sticky mess in his pant leg as he let out a few quiet heavy breaths, the hand that had been touching her hair scratching lines into the dirt, but it was bittersweet. In the haze afterwards, for the first time in a long, long time, he thought about Barb, about the way she would sigh his name when she came apart, about how soft and warm she would feel against him when he held her close after they made love. The deeply buried pain behind his breastbone that had started the day he'd found out the truth about her kicked up once more.

Sitting in the dark silence, a hard edge of discomfort and annoyance steeled up his spine, leaving him still in his ruminations until the uncomfortable feeling of the mess in his pants became intolerable. Letting out a huff, he shifted away from her and walked a few steps away as quietly as possible to clean himself up as best as he could, shame thick in the crisp air. When he finished, he dug into his pocket for an angry cigarette, jamming it between his thin lips and turning back towards her to face away from the breeze as he lit it.

But when he looked at her once more, really let himself look at her, he felt that pain in his breast soften, her soft skin almost glowing in the moonlight as she slept, peacefully unaware of anything but her blissful rest. It wasn't something he saw often. When he sat back down beside her, grabbing for his loose glove in the dark, he sat close enough that the outside of his thigh touched the arm under her head, pulling on his lit smoke absentmindedly as he continued to study his little companion. Her even, steady breathing was quite soothing to him, actually.

He was still going to buy a new set of vials.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #submission #I hate titling so much #fallout tv show #fallout prime

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reyrapidsbutgayer · 3 months ago

Text

Ranking All Shadow of the Erdtree Bosses and NPC's by Fuckability.

It's finally time. The sequel to the 2nd worst post I've ever made.

I 100%-ed the DLC and it was fantastic. Time to find out which new characters are the most fuckable.

In this hypothetical all of the bosses can be reasonably communicated with (if possible) and are not actively trying to kill you (Unless killing you makes it sexier).

Repeat bosses not included, duo bosses counted seperate. Bosses that already appeared in the Base game are not counted.

It should also be assumed that all of these bosses have access to their magic/items/resources to benefit them in bed.

Explanation of Grading system:

Ineligible: (Cannot give consent)

These characters are not sentient enough to communicate consent, or are physically incapable of sex.

Unfuckable: (Can give consent, but does not DESERVE sex)

Character sucks so badly that they do not deserve to experience pleasure in any shape or form.

Uninterested: (Can give consent, does not WANT sex)

These character are fully capable of sex but would never participate in sex due to lack of interest or overabundance of moral convictions.

Not worth it: (Can give consent, is terrible in bed)

I mean, you COULD have sex with these characters but why would you?

Acceptable: (Can give consent, would be fine in bed)

These characters are average in bed, nothing crazy or noticeable. Some might end up in this category because they ARE good at sex, but the entire process would be inconvenient or uncomfortable to initiate.

Good Time: (Can give consent, would be great in bed)

These characters are good at sex, give or take a few points depending on their mood or situation.

Knock your socks off: (Can give consent, would be amazing in bed)

These characters excel in giving pleasure and would be well worth the time and effort involved.

Sex God: (Can give consent, would be the best in bed)

These characters would be so good at sex that all other factors are irrelevant. They are serving and we are here for it.

Evil Sex God: (Can give consent, is a terrible person but you’d make an exception.)

These are characters that should fall lower in the rankings, but their sexual prowess supersedes their inherent awfulness to a noteworthy degree.

Full list below the read more. Obviously it's not going to be sfw.

Ineligible: (Cannot give consent)

Ralva the Great Red Bear:

Animal

Rugalea the Great Red Bear:

Animal

Ghostflame Dragon:

Undead, probably not capable of sex.

Golden Hippopotamus:

Animal

Swordhand of Night Anna:

She is a hot goth knight, but is a mind controlled puppet.

Unfuckable: (Can give consent, but does not DESERVE sex)

Promised Consort Radahn + Radahn Consort of Miquella:

Radahn is just a mind-controlled corpse, and Miquella is a little bitch, so they are both ineligible. Honestly who tries to become a god but also ditches their inner goth girl? St. Trina deserved better.

Scadutree Avatar:

Theoretically capable of sex, but is made of pure anger and thorns.

Fire Knight Salza:

War criminal, even by Elden Ring terms so you KNOW it's bad.

Jori, Elder Inquisitor:

Creepy torturer and hypocrite, thinks sex is a sin and I plan for him to die sinless.

Uninterested: (Can give consent, does not WANT sex)

Curseblade Labirith:

Too devoted to being a monk to care.

Midra Lord of Frenzied Flame:

He's going through a LOT right now. He just got dumped AND he is being tortured for eternity while also containing a god of madness in his body, just leave the poor man alone.

Blackgaol Knight:

In another life he'd fuck like semi truck, but as of right now he's taken a vow to be a wet blanket alone in a mausoleum.

Not worth it: (Can give consent, is terrible in bed)

Chief Bloodfiend:

Too goopy and covered in diseased blood, but is still up for it if you are.

Putrescent Knight:

On one hand it's melting skeleton made up of thousands of merged souls... but on the other hand if you managed to get the consent and each and every soul I bet you could PROBABLY do something.

Lamenter:

Throw him one pity fuck and then run, he's clingy and a whiner.

Death Knight:

Is mostly just a skeleton, and whatever flesh is still there is probably rotting... but he does have some rizz and cool wings... goth guys can still get it.

Acceptable: (Can give consent, would be fine in bed)

Black Knight Garrew:

A highly trained knight, probably has good stamina but is also a fanatic to a creepy cult.

Black Knight Edredd:

Is also a highly trained knight, probably has good stamina but is also a fanatic to a creepy cult... but he does know crucible incantations... he might have some weird animal stuff you can get him to use in bed.

Rakshasa:

She's covered in blood and is overflowing with bloodlust... but lust and bloodlust are in the same neighborhood if you know what to do.

Divine Beast Dancing Lion:

If those two guys in there aren't rotting corpses... Fucking two guys inside a scary lion costume is an above average Tuesday night.

Good Time: (Can give consent, would be great in bed)

Logur, the Beast Claw:

A nude man covered in blood is running at you on all fours... you are either about to die or have a WILD night.

Ancient Dragon Senessax:

A very average dragon, but all dragons have a baseline fuckability so she's up here.

Jagged Peak Drake:

Drakes are slightly less fuckable than dragons, but if you don't think I'd willing be double teamed by two dragons while Igon watches, you clearly don't know me.

Ancient Dragon-Man:

All the perks of dragon sex but in a much more portable package.

Demi-Human Swordmaster Onze:

Normally Demi-humans are more cute than sexy, but this guy dedicated his life to the blade, you should be helping him make up for lost time.

Count Ymir, Mother of Fingers:

He's a delusional asshole... but he smacks of gender™ in a very submissive and breedable manner. A man who wants to be a mother and has giant fleshy fingers growing out of his body? It will be uncomfortable and deeply personal... but you GOTTA try it at least once, the LGBTQ community is depending on you.

Knock your socks off: (Can give consent, would be amazing in bed)

Red Bear:

All the raw sex appeal of Logur but with 25% more daddy energy.

Moonrithyll, Carian Knight:

Listen we have all been sleeping on Moonrithyll when we should be sleeping WITH her. She is the chamberlain to Rellana (as in head bedroom attendant) which means she is an actual #girlboss and there must be insane wizard lesbian sex behind closed doors. Not only that but she is beloved by the trolls and can fight on equal terms with the carian troll knights, who are no doubt getting sucked and fucked by her nightly. She's just a normal human but she is blowing out the backs of demigods and giants alike. She is struggling to keep her head above water and that water is pussy.

Commander Gaius:

Ok so here me out: He is an asshole, and violent, and a fanatic who serves the very order that discriminates against him... but all you have to do is mention that Radahn is better in bed than him. With this one simple trick he will have you bent over the back of his boar making sure he won't be the only one who can't use their legs after. He is pure rage and he will not stop until he has make you cum more times than Radahn ever has. Trust me, this happened to me, video games are real.

Dancer of Ranah:

Infinite stamina, enough said.

Sex God: (Can give consent, would be the best in bed)

Rellana Twin Moon Knight:

I want you to imagine Rennala, a normal woman who was able to satisfy Radagon/Marika, the sluttiest possible duo in the entire history of the lands between. Now imagine Rennala at full power, no depression, no hanging out in her basement mourning her failed marriage... now imagine Rennala 18% more goth and holding two magic swords. She will fuck you into space and then fuck you back to planet earth. Now imagine being bisexual.

Messmer the Impaler + Base Serpent Messmer:

I have slowly grown to love this sad bishounen anime boy more and more as I learn about his pathetic little life. He seems all mean and firey, but he is a bottom. (and his snakes are not) I wanna make him squeal and then get him therapy and then for good measure make him squel again.

Romina, Saint of the Bud:

A sleeper hit, but she is a mean insect lady with a giant prehensile centipede tail. She is like a xenomorph queen but a pink pastel goth rather than a vampire goth. She will wrap you up in that giant tail of hers and get straight to the egg laying. If you haven't considered it before, then you will now.

Evil Sex God: (Can give consent, is a terrible person but you’d make an exception.)

Metyr, Mother of Fingers:

Look... you WILL die after doing this, but she has a giant stomach full of squirming wet fingers and she is basically a big pile of dicks. Get naked, jump into her gaping stomach and die happy. That's an order from your commanding officer, now do your duty and serve your country.

Bayle the Dread:

I hate this dragon, he is responsible for the steady decline in dragon sex appeal, he hurt my Igon, and I can't explain why but I feel like he is sexist somehow. BUT... a dragon is a dragon. If Igon asks me to double team this guy I legally can't say no.

BONUS: Ranking the new NPC's from worst to best in terms of fuckability:

#13: Fire Knight Queenlign:

Somehow, his haircut is more of a turn-off than the war crimes he committed in the name of a god who doesn't even know he exists, which is not a good sign.

#12: Hornsent Grandam:

Normally I would give GILFs a pass to live their life and fuck as little or as much as they want. But she is the type to slut shame other women and as a feminist I cannot stand idly by.

#11: Hornsent

In another life he'd be a decent lay. He had a wife and a child so he has had sex at least once. In a pinch I can forgive the blind self destructive quest for vengeance, but I draw the line as soiled loincloths. You're an adult Hornsent, so act like it.

#10: Moore

My sweet little pot boy... If it came to sex I'd like to imagine that he is attentive and gentle, with his armor clattering around the whole time because he is too scared to take it off entirely. But he is too sweet and you honestly don't deserve him. He needs to be romanced, swept off his feet by a loyal and supportive partner and let's face it, you aren't at a place in your life where you can be all that he needs.

#9: Thoiller

The pillow princess to end all pillow princesses. He is a simp, he's submissive, he's breedable, he's a sopping wet pathetic little meow meow. Tumblr, THIS is the man you keep saying you want, now get in there and impregnate this man as the prophecies foretold.

#8: St. Trina

She's a plant at this point and probably isn't up for sex. (And a disembodied essence of love from a corrupted demigod) But I KNOW for a fact you kept imbibing her nectar more than you needed to. She just likes to watch as you and Thoiller get high and flop around in the putrescences. Lore says St. Trina was a fully grown woman at some point, and not just a weird little plant person, so in her prime she probably had a weird sleepy plant orgy with her followers.

#7: Redmane Freyja:

On paper she is the tragic butch sword lesbian we need but don't deserve. A prisoner who earned her freedom and rank through brutal gladiatorial combat, a loyal knight to a fallen demigod, and a big buff lady who can step on you. But in practice she still sides with Leda after breaking free of the mind control, and lets Miquella control her lords body like a toy. Come on Freyja, where is your fire? Your rage? Suplex Leda and fuck your way across the lands between as did your forefathers.

#6: Swordhand of Night Jolan:

She's a mean goth girl with a tragic past and a desperate need to be loved. I could fix her.

#5: Sir Ansbach

He easily earned his place in the top 5. He's running from a tragic past, he is trying to be a better person, he has all the sex appeal of Varre' but actually bathes, and he is a GILF. In practice he probably isn't the BEST in bed, but he is rather romancable. He can still get it, since he was a highly trained warrior in the past, but I see myself cuddling him as he somberly adjusts his glasses and stares out the window. Don't get me wrong there is still a LOT of sweaty blood sex but he knows what he is doing and understands what soap is.

#4: Igon

He's a screamer. Broken legs, dirty armor, doesn't matter. The warriors code demands that we look into each other's eyes as we both cum. That is the only honorable way.

#3: Needle Knight Leda

She sucks. She willingly follows a loser wannabe god, and it's not even the mind control, she is just like that™ already. She is so bad at socializing with rational people who are already on her side that she jumps to murder without hesitation. She even killed all the first Needle Knights just cuz of her own paranoia. She should be at the bottom of this list... but a yandere is a yandere. It would be creepy, uncomfortable and she'd be very demanding and probably bite you in a very non-sexy way. But it would still be some of the best sex you'll ever have. You'd regret it just as much as you'd enjoy it, and you'd regret it for the rest of your life.

#2: Dragon Communion Priestess Florissax:

Lovelorn dragon lady who wants me to eat other dragons in a very sensual manner. I am not immune and neither are you.

#1: Dryleaf Dane

After that brush, he is distant. His training is cold and impersonal, he throws himself into his prayers, dedicating every waking moment to meditation. He sought to turn his flesh to iron, so why is the flesh so weak around you?

Hear me out. He's religious, he is dedicated to his cause, he tries to kill you, and he doesn't even say a word to you.

BUT.

Imagine what happens when you finally get him to break.

He is your master, teaching you in the dryleaf arts, the two of you sparring atop a waterfall and bruising your knuckles more and more with each strike. The two of you meditate together, seeking inner peace to further your warriors spirit. He is stoic, his heart closed off to you and his mind focused on his holy mission.

But he is temped, you can see it in his eyes, in the way he watches over you when you are hurt, the soft way his fist unclench after a battle, and the thick layer of sweat you share after sparring. Together you are hardening your bodies to become living weapons, but bodies are not only used for violence, and the two of you cannot ignore the tension that grows with each day, your bodies intertwining during a particularly heated duel, grappling turning slowly to wanton exploration. He comes to his senses right before it crosses the line and you see the fear in his eyes as he pulls away from you. But you wouldn't have stopped him and he knows it from the pleased expression on your face as you lie on your back, defeated.

When it finally happens, you are sparring, leaving nothing behind. You shed your armor to let the movements flow without hindrance and so does he, conflict apparent upon his face. You trade blow after blow, your bodies raw and sore but still you don't let up. The sun is setting and neither of you will relent, sweat coating every inch and the roar of the waterfall drowning out every thought that isn't dedicated to this battle.

He is getting sloppy, his eyes transfixed not on your fists but your face. A poorly placed sweep to your legs leaves him wide open and you go for the maneuver neither of you have attempted since the close encounter that frightened him so.

He struggles, pushing your arms and legs away fruitlessly as his exhaustion drains away his years of practice. Soon you are pinning him to the wet ground on the riverbed, his hair wild and his hat flung far out of arms reach. He looks like a cornered animal in your grasp, eyes bulging and his breathing haggard. You can only look down upon your former master with a gleeful hunger, his body already more familiar to you than your own.

In a moment of understanding you see the hesitation drain from eyes. He knows what he wants, and he is done denying it. You grab his face roughly and kiss him more violently than any punch you have thrown. He returns in kind and all the exhaustion seems to leave his body as he sits up and wraps both arms around you firmly, desperate to make up for lost time, his holy mission only to worship your body and the unbreakable bond you have forged in sweat and blood.

And then you bone.

We have all imagined that exact scenario, haven't we? I have yet to meet a Fromsoft fan who hasn't described that fantasy to me word for word without hesitation. I am just saying what we were all thinking.

(Pictured: a man I would fuck until he renounces his god.)

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minus-plus-zer0 · 3 months ago

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💐 Fiance Headcanons 💐

♡ Genre: Fluff, tiny bit suggestive ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Bakugou was over the moon when you said yes to his proposal.

And you better believe HE was gonna be the one proposing. He wanted to be first place in everything in life. He'd be the first one to kiss you, the first to invite you out on a date, the first to ask you to move in-together, etc. He was always one step ahead of you, you could never ask first. He's competitive like that. All your firsts are now his, but never forget that all his firsts are yours too. His lips are only for you! Morning breath or not...

Bakugou knows what he wants and he knows he has always needed you by his side, maybe even more than you needed him. He really couldn't imagine his future without you given everything you've been through together. It wouldn't make any sense not being with his best friend.

So when he popped the question, you best believe his heart was racing more than it had for any fight he'd ever encountered. This yes-or-no question felt like a life-or-death situation. His happiness hung in the balance from your response.

But you loved him very much, and you knew he would stay by your side forever and make you happy in a way nobody else could. So you gave him a million rapid-fire yeses, and he kissed your silly face to kingdom come.

After the proposal, he boasted to everyone and anyone about his upcoming marriage. It's tiring how cute he can be. He's gotta share the news with everyone, rub it into their faces how much better your love is than theirs. It's just like when you two started dating, he wanted everyone to know that you were both off the market FAST.

(Technically he was never on the market for anybody but you but it's better to make it official, you know?)

His parents adore you but they still argue with Bakugou every now and again. You try and convince them to be sweeter to him, you don't want anything to ruin his day. That only worsens their bias towards you so your efforts kinda fail, but it's the thought that counts!

You both have to do a lot of planning for your future together ahead. He's ready to make this wedding the best of the best, like nobody's ever seen. You've got your own set of dreams as you coo over some romantic wedding ideas and cake toppers, while Bakugou takes note of what you like most. Little does he know, you're doing the same to him. After all, its his special day too!

But sometimes you disagree on how the wedding should go, or what kind of food to order. One of the biggest disagreements is on who to invite to the wedding. Bakugou wanted to install a million different rules regarding who can and cannot come, what they can do, what they can't say, etc. It was all too much. If the bridezilla stereotype really exists, then Bakugou embodies it.

It's around this time that your friends from the Bakusquad really start helping out. You've got a lot of shoulders to lean on for emotional and technical support. However, there is such thing as too many cooks in the kitchen. Bakugou reins them in when they start acting like they're planning their own wedding. He knew it was going too far when Kaminari started wanting the whole event to play his personal dubstep mixtape and Ashido wanted to get rid of all the spicy food. If Bakugou didn't veto their ideas, they might've walked all over you with their good intentions.

Bakugou doesn't want a traditional bachelor party before the wedding, regardless of whether or not that's common in Japan. It's just definitely not his thing. He doesn't like the sexual stuff associated with it and he doesn't agree with how it celebrates your supposed "last day of freedom" in a relationship. To be honest, he wants you to avoid it too.

Instead, you probably have two separate normal parties with your own circles of friends that are the same gender as y'all. Ashido remarks that this is still functionally similar to most normal bachelor(ette) parties, but whatever. You're with your buddies, Bakugou is with the boys of the Bakusquad, and even though you're separated he's texting you saying he wishes you were there with him because he's gloating to his friends about how good your relationship is but they're not believing him and it's pissing him off. Please, please, please come home.

Bakugou is essentially forced at gunpoint to have a good time. They're probably hit up some restaurants with spicy food challenges to see how far he can go without killing himself before the wedding. Don't worry, he'll keep himself in one piece so you'll still have a man to marry by the end of it. The others, however, don't stand a chance. They'll be dead by morning.

Later on, you're planning out your wedding attire before the big day and Bakugou's not allowed to see it but you're texting him and teasing him about what it could possibly be. It gets a little steamy at times, with him guessing at EVERYTHING you could be wearing, but sometimes he gets his guesses hilariously wrong. His mind goes places.

You're also planning out your honeymoon together, but there's so many places you'd wanna go that it's hard to pick. Since Bakugou is such a rich Pro Hero and all, you have a world of options to choose from. It doesn't have to be limited to one location, you could do a whole tour of places if you wanted. Bakugou definitely wants to get out there and see some sights with you, maybe show you around a couple of the tallest mountains around the world and see what you think of them. Or he'd wanna find a nice, temporary beach house and settle there, watching the waves with you as you skip stones across the water. He'll cheat by using his Explosion Quirk to make it skip farther, so your Quirk better be able to match that. But no matter what, he'll still say he won in the end, and argue with you until you agree.

With this much planning, you know that the wedding itself will be something to remember.

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mae-gi-writes · 7 months ago

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Finders Keepers | Gally [TMR] - Part 1

In which Gally gets soft for one of the boys in the Glade, only…is it a boy? alternatively; In which Mai disguises herself into a boy to fit in the Glade, only to be suspected by the keen eyes of the Builder's Keeper.

NEXT >>

-------

"Enjoying life, Greenie?"

Dark eyes framed by thick lashes look up with a scowl at the said Builder's voice. And here Mai had hoped for some peace and tranquility after having spent all day out in the sun pulling out weeds and listening to Zart talk incessantly about his love of plants and whatever.

Gally stands ahead of the new boy, leaning against one of Homestead's supporting structures with the kind of grin that makes Mai want to run for it. No wonder so many new Greenies decide that the Maze is a fair chance. When Gally's out here storming through the grounds, Mai isn't quite sure that the Glade is as safe as they all make it out to be. His temper is something to be reckoned with.

Mai's been here for only over a week and to say that it's comfortable would be a lie. It feels suffocating, all the more because of the number of people cramped into the Glade.

Gally takes a step towards the Greenie and the latter freezes up for a second, inwardly screaming at him to go back where he comes from because god knows Mai does not want the peace created undisturbed. But seems that Gally doesn't read faces well, for he plonks himself down next to the new boy while pushing up his shirt sleeves currently caked with mud from all the hard work he's been doing around the Glade.

The words fall from Mai's mouth without warning, "aren't you supposed to be with your Builders?"

For a minute, Gally's eyebrows quirk up in surprise. Not a lot of people dare to stand up to him and yet, this new recruit has the kind of fire in his eyes that makes Gally smirk. Little smartass, he thinks to himself.

"I'm their Keeper, I can do whatever I want."

"Slacking off is also part of that job title?"

"You've got quite a mouth on you for a Greenie."

Mai's scowl merely deepens before he looks away. Gally's right. That's not the right way to keep a low profile here. In the Glade, hierarchy was everything and Mai is stupid to believe that Gally's interest in him excuses Mai from any sort of punishment he might have to offer.

"Sorry," Mai mutters.

Gally doesn't seem to mind, clapping a hand on the younger boy's back before he pulls himself back up, "Gotta go back to work Greenie. You coming?"

Mai grumbles but does as told, already feeling the scars on his hands where he'd been pulling out weeds all morning. He just hopes that his phase with the Garden people is just what it is - a phase. There are far more fun things to be done around the Glade and unwillingly, the Greenie casts a glance back at Gally's broad back as the latter makes his way to his newest architectural invention.

Mai feels his face flush and quickly averts his gaze, knowing full well that he needs to get a hold of himself if he wants to survive in this place.

Well, she needs to get a hold of herself.

----

Lie.

Lie to them. And to yourself.

Lie, Mai.

Those were the first few words that Mai heard echoing in the back of her brain the moment she'd stepped out of the metal box. The crowd of boys around her hadn't suspected a thing, considering that she was dressed as a boy, had close-cropped hair and was so scrawny one could barely believe a female's body laid underneath. The words were so poignant, dripping with venom of instructions, that Mai had done as told. She'd lied to them all, for the sake of safety.

And maybe that was what had saved her, in the long run.

It's complicated living in a Glade full of horny boys. Mai has to be careful because every second counts. When she goes to the toilet, for example, making up the excuse that she needs to do "a big one" as she'd mutter out to the other boys while averting her gaze elsewhere. Or when she's changing, always volunteering to go pick out weeds and quickly dropping into the Runner's chambers so she could get into fresh clothes. The biggest challenge had been the showers. It was communal and most boys didn't care at all for privacy. So Mai had to wait out in the dark. No boys enjoyed bathing in utter darkness, so night time was her best opportunity. She'd wait until everyone was drowsy enough not to realize that she was gone, scrubbing down her body in milliseconds before shoving on her new clothes.

Thankfully, the boys are either too dumb or too preoccupied with dealing with what the Maze has to offer to give her attention, and for that Mai is grateful.

"So have you decided?"

She looks up from her bowl of soup freshly made by Frypan and herself -- they'd decided to put her with the said young man for the day to see how she would fare and in all honesty, Mai thinks that this is probably the first time she's felt at ease with something -- into Alby's dark eyes.

Their leader is not one that speaks for nothing, and so everything that does come out of his mouth is of some importance.

"I definitely don't want to be a Slicer," she responds with a shrug, and takes another gulp of her soup. The leader takes a seat across from hers with an amused smile, "why not? I think it's fitting."

"Shut up Alby," she scowls at him.

"Alright alright," he lifts his hands in surrender, "considering your frame, I say we make you a Cook. Frypan needs all the help he can get anyway."

"That's offensive," Mai states, "what's wrong with my size?"

"C'mon Greenie, you're like four feet tall. You can't hold or build nothing, you suck at gardening, you've got no shuck stamina. I think the kitchen's where you belong."

"Thanks Alby, really shucking inspirational."

"You're welcome." Alby grins. Someone cries out his name then, something to do with the Runners, and he hits you lightly on the arm as he stands, "right. Off to work, shank."

Mai watches as his back shrinks with more distance, and wonders whether Alby suspects something off about her — or him. She's so careful, always double or triple checking, but she can never be too sure. Is that why he's sticking her into the kitchen where he thinks girls belong?

No, you're thinking too much into it, Mai thinks to herself. It's fine, you're doing fine.

Obviously, it's not just fine.

She busies herself all afternoon working as Frypan's assistant in the kitchen. He is easy-going and makes her feel a lot better, something about his presence reassures her, even though the close cooking quarters makes moving about impossible without touching one another. That's not something that Mai feels comfortable with, so she does try her best to avoid moving in the same direction.

Tonight is pork curry from the Slicer's last batch, paired with flavored rice and some green beans from the Track-Hoes gardens. The boys are hungry by the time evening falls and Mai busies herself by serving them one another another, until the familiar clamour of metal causes the entire Glade to freeze.

It's been a week, and yet Mai is still not comfortable hearing the gates close them in every night. The same gates keeping them from the outside. The same gates trapping them in, in a world that they can't even control.

Mai's fury burns as she thinks of it.

"Hey," she turns to see the blonde, the one that looks like an elf with features so delicate that she might swoon at the look of him. He's the next in line, amused by the fact that she seems distracted.

"O—Oh. Sorry," she quickly shoves a few pieces of Pork into his plate and loads it up with the greenbeans, "here you go."

"Thanks Greenie," he cocks his head st her curiously, "how you holding up?"

Mai shrugs, embarrassed that she can't seem to recall his name even though she knows he's second-in-command, "doing alright I suppose. Alby finally figured out what to do with me."

"Yeah I think you're better suited for it than picking out weeds. Zart wasn't impressed."

"It's not my fault your weeds seem to be ten meters long." Mai protests as a flush creeps up her neck.

Newt laughs, "I'm joking Greenie. Relax. Anyway," he lifts his plate in mock salute, "thanks for this. Hope I don't choke on it."

"Well I hope you do!" Mai yells out after him, only to add after some minor reflection, "—a little bit."

After having served all Gladers, Mai takes her own plate and tries to find a seat. Alas, the task proves itself hard upon noticing that all tables are already full. There's only one place open — and that one place is by the Runner's table.

Now, it's not that Mai wants to be rude and ignore them altogether. But the Runners only bring out the particular memory of her pathetic wheeze after having run merely a mile, deeming her not fit for the said job. That embarrassment had only made Mai want to avoid the Runners altogether if she could.

But alas, fate is not on her side today. She spots the asian boy called Minho, whose eyebrows quirk up when their eyes meet. He casts a quick glance at her tray, has a look around, before he grins and beckons her over.

"Hey Greenie," he says as soon as her butt hits her seat. His dimpled smile paired with his pretty crescent moon eyes doesn't help with her heart, "thought you'd never wanna show your shuck face around us after that run."

"Some people aren't Runners. Get over it," you say it more in a mutter but loud enough that it gets the entire table into chuckles.

"Well I think you might just be the next Frypan," another Runner says, "I'm Ben by the way."

"Mai," she responds, not enjoying the way his eyes seem to flicker over her face in thought, as if he's trying to figure out what's off with her.

Because there is something off, just not the kind that they'd expect.

"Huh, Mai." Ben tries it out on his tongue. He takes another bite of his curry, "how are you liking the glade?"

"S'alright. I just wish the Builders could maybe build us actual beds instead of having hammocks."

"Oh he said it," Minho claps Mai's back so hard she almost spits out her food, thankful he hasn't noticed when he only slings an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer, "hey Gally! Greenie here has a problem with your hammocks!"

Uh oh. Mai's horror triples as she watches the said Builder stand from his seat. Numerous eyes have swayed across tables to land on her now. Gally strides towards them slowly, a predator confident in his skin, she can't help but squirm back.

He's intimidating and scary. And yet, her stomach squeezed with an unfamiliar feeling altogether.

"You got a problem with the hammocks?"

Gally's voice brings her back to reality. Mai blinks, "uhm—no, not at all—"

"That's not what you said a few seconds ago Greenie," Minho grins, "come on. Tell him. He doesn't bite."

"He might," mutters Ben from your other side.

"Uh— I was saying how comfortable the hammocks were," Mai responds with a nervous laugh, "so yeah— good job Gally."

Gally doesn't seem convinced, but a call from Alby stating that he wishes to see the Keepers thankfully breaks the attention from Mai.

"Right," Minho quickly clears the plates away, but not before ruffling Mai's hair as he does so, "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Try not to die Greenie."

Mai lets out a soft sigh as the asian boy makes a run for it, followed by Gally after having thrown her another glance. He doesn't say anything though and as the Glade slowly starts to die out — boys settling into their hammocks and others taking their turns in the showers — Mai is glad when no one seems to pay her attention in favor of sleep. No surprise there, considering how tiring they are after all this hard work.

She settles into her own hammock, tied up close to the elfin-looking blonde, and tries to get comfortable. The Maze walls look even larger as she stares up at them, her breath catching in her throat as she thinks of all the boys that have lived here for months without hope.

Mai falls asleep that night, dreaming of the what ifs and the endless possibilities of what the future might hold.

She just hopes that they'll make it out one day, hopes that the echoing voices at the back of her head are just that — voices.

-----

A/N: AAANd that's a wrap for the first chapter! Like I said, I'm in a TMR brainrot so don't mind me or my obsessive behaviour towards Gally in these series. And can I just say that Will Poulter has aged like fine wine. See you in the next chapter! Do let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist <3

#gally #gally tmr #the maze runner #scorch trials #death cure #tmr gally #tmr x reader #tmr thomas #tmr minho #gally x reader #tmr gally x reader #tmr newt #romcom #tmr imagines #tmr fanfiction #the maze runner imagine #themazerunner fanfiction #the maze runner fanfiction #the maze runner x reader

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spncrscasey · 5 months ago

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Mine (m.c.)

Fandom/Characters: Chicago Fire - Matt Casey x Fem!Reader, Sylvie Brett, Stella Kidd, Kelly Severide, Blake Gallo, Wallace Boden, Christopher Herrmann, Joe Cruz, Darren Ritter

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You and Matt Casey had been secretly dating for a while, and it had gone smoothly since you worked at different firehouses. However, you were offered a job at 51 which despite seeming like a great idea, only made everything complicated.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, a bit of angst, a bunch of fluff, pet names, mention of anxiety, protective matt, kissing, happy ending

a/n: my first fic!!!!! (on tumblr that is lol) i used to write a lot on another platforms but haven't written for fun in forever (other than for school, ew lol.) so i might be a bit rusty so just yk excuse that until i get back into my flow :) anyways i hope you guys like it <3

For the last three years, you've been working as a paramedic at Firehouse 20 alongside Violet Mikami. During that time, you've come to know Blake Gallo as a result of his on-and-off relationship with her. Although he's a great guy, what made him even greater is the person he introduced you to about a year ago— your boyfriend, Captain Matthew Casey of Firehouse 51.

Where could you possibly start? His mesmerizing, smile and his charming personality drew you in in an instant. You never realized how the occasional encounters, transformed into intimate late-night conversations. And before you knew it, those late-night talks grew into romantic dinners and memorable dates.

After months of both of you dancing around one another, he finally masked up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend. Without a moment's hesitation, you instantly said yes.

Six months have passed since then. Both of you had mutually decided to keep it private for some time in order to prevent any interference with your jobs. The only individuals who had known were your respective Chiefs, just in case something happened.

Your Chief also knew you could handle a busier station such as 51. So, he had just offered you the vacant paramedic position that was left after Foster left for Med School.

Initially, you were excited about the offer because it meant working with your boyfriend. However, now you're uncertain about accepting it as you're not sure how he’d react. While you believe he'd be as thrilled as you are, there's this nagging feeling that it would complicate things.

So you decided to call him.

"Hey Matt," You said once he picked up.

"Hi babe, everything okay? You rarely call me during shift." He replied, voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." You assure him before nervously adding, "It's just... I have something to run by you...”

"Go ahead sweetheart, what's up?"

"You know how Foster left and ever since then there's been an open paramedic spot at 51 for a while now?"

He hums encouraging you to continue.

"Well, my Chief spoke to Boden and they both agreed that I could fill that spot if I wanted to."

"That's fantastic news!" He said excitedly. "Do you want to?"

You sighed. "I do want to. I think it would be nice to work with you and the experience of working at a busier station? That would benefit me, by a lot. I’d be able to learn so much."

"Then what's there to run by me? This is your decision Y/N." Matt questioned.

"It's your house! I don't want to interfere with the little family you all have built and make things complicated considering we'd be working together while dating and what if they take it the wrong way thinking I only got the spot because I'm with you-"

"Hey! Y/N, sweetheart, breathe." He says cutting off your rambling, trying to calm you down.

"What?" you ask, voice exasperated.

"Baby, no one's going to think anything like that. You're an amazing paramedic and you earned your spot because you're good at your job. Also, no one knows that we're together so they won't suspect a thing. We don't even have to tell them yet if you don't want to.” He said reassuringly before continuing, “And you wouldn't be interfering with anything, I can assure you that we'd all love to have you at 51. This is completely your choice though, so whether you want to transfer over here or not, you have my full support, regardless of what you decide."

You smile at Matt's words. "Thank you." You pause for a moment before resuming happily, "Okay I'm going to go tell Chief that I'm accepting the position! I'll talk to you later Matt."

"That's my girl." He says smiling before hanging up.

You swiftly head to your Chief's office and let him know that you completed the transfer paperwork and are ready to begin at 51 as soon as possible. He nods, smiling, and assures you that he will push the request forward.

It was now Monday. Which also happened to be the same day you started your first shift as the new paramedic of Firehouse 51.

God were you nervous.

You had spoken to Matt multiple times and he continuously reassured you that you had no reason to feel anxious because everyone would adore you. So why were you still panicking?

Matt liked you, Gallo liked you, and so did Boden after the short interview you two had.

You had also heard a lot about each of them through Matt, and they all sounded like wonderful people. So the odds of your new coworkers welcoming you with open arms were pretty high.

Yet despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety that was coursing through your veins, leaving you a nervous wreck.

You let out a sigh, trying to calm your nerves as you approached the Firehouse. You bumped into Gallo on the way which instantly relieved your worries. Seeing a familiar face put your mind at ease, melting your fears away, even if it’s only for a moment.

The two of you engaged in an easy conversation as you walked into the building together.

Upon entering, you spotted a table near the rigs with several individuals seated around it. Gallo eagerly ushered you towards them, quickly introducing everyone.

"Squad, this is Y/N Y/L/N, our new paramedic!" He said as you smiled, waving at them.

Gallo then pointed at a tan, blue-eyed man who was sitting at the head of the table. "That's Lieutenant Kelly Severide. Head of Squad and those are his Squad members."

He quickly got up and shook your hand. "Nice to meet you Y/L/N."

You recognized him now. He was Matt's best friend, they'd been through thick and thin together. It was sweet actually, finally getting to put a face to the name you've been hearing so much about.

Gallo took his time introducing you to the other members of Squad, all of whom greeted you with kindness and respect.

As he slipped into conversation with them, you took the opportunity to excuse yourself and find your partner, Sylvie Brett, who you’d be spending most of your time with.

She stood out easily, being one of only two women in the house. You spotted her in the kitchen, chatting with another girl who you figured must be Stella, Severide's girlfriend. Matt had spoken to you about how amazing they were as a couple, and it always made you happy to hear about them. With a deep breath, you made your way over to them.

"Hi!" You smiled. "I'm the new paramedic here working with... Sylvie Brett?" You ask unsurly, turning your head to glance at the blonde hoping you're right.

"Yes, that's me! Hi!" She answered enthusiastically, hugging you. Matt had mentioned how sweet she was but the embrace still caught you by surprise. Regardless, you hugged her back, accepting the kind gesture. Once you pulled away you waved at the other woman who smiled back at you, introducing herself as Stella Kidd.

After conversing with them for some time and getting to know one another, you headed off to the officer quarters with the hope of seeing your boyfriend.

Once you approached the office that was referred to Matt Casey, you knocked.

"Come in." You heard so you stepped inside, closing the door behind you.

"Hi baby," You said, smiling at him. He looked up from his desk, features softening as he noticed you.

"How's my favorite girl doing?" He asked standing up to give you a brief kiss on the cheek.

"I'm great! Everyone here is so nice and fun to talk to. They've all been so welcoming." You answered excitedly.

"See, I told you everyone would love you. What's there not to?" He asked rhetorically, making you smile as he placed his hands on your waist pulling you in closer. Matt's inability to keep his hands to himself never fails to make you laugh. It was all quickly forgotten though when he drew you in for a more passionate kiss when he noticed that there weren't any prying eyes on you.

As time passed, days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, you had seamlessly become a part of them. Each member of the group welcomed you with open arms, and it felt like you had found your place within the close-knit family they had formed at 51. It seemed like you had found a lasting bond and a sense of belonging with everyone there, envisioning a permanent future among them.

You became good friends with Sylvie and Stella, established a nice mentorship with Hermann, and created a sibling-like bond with Severide.

Most importantly though, to your knowledge, no one had suspected your relationship with Matt.

You wanted to say something, you really did. You didn't want him to think you were ashamed of being with him. But you didn't want the people you had grown so close to to think that you were only offered the position because of your relationship with him; even if you were confident that they weren't the type of people to believe that.

It was an ordinary day. You and Sylvie had just returned from responding to a call— nothing too serious, just tending to a man who had been cut by a broken mirror. Together with Sylvie, you bandaged him up and sent him to Med for stitches, wishing him a speedy recovery.

You were restocking the ambulance when Sylvie spoke up, "So, did you see the way that guy looked at you?"

You almost choked on your spit at her statement, not expecting it. "How did he look at me?"

"Oh c'mon- there were literally hearts in his eyes every time you spoke up while bandaging him!" She exclaimed a bit too loudly making you shush her.

"Who had hearts in his eyes?" Matt chimed in as he walked up to you and Brett, joining your conversation.

"No one," You say brushing him off but Sylvie interjects. "This guy we were helping earlier, he totally had the hots for our new paramedic over here." She said, nudging you with her arm in a teasing manner.

"Oh, did he?" Matt asked in a tone that sounded like he was joking but you could see the way his body tensed.

"It's whatever, nothing serious. It's not like I'm going to go on a date with him." You roll your eyes trying to dismiss the situation.

"You should!" Sylvie replies happily, "You're pretty and single. He wasn't bad on the eyes either, if you know what I mean. Go have some fun girl! Who knows, he could be the love of your life." She adds, winking.

Matt gave a half-hearted smile and walked away without acknowledging Brett, leaving her looking up in confusion. "What was that about?" She asked.

"No idea," You say shortly, despite knowing exactly what was going on.

Matthew Casey was jealous.

It was quite surprising because he had never shown signs of being the jealous type. In the past, if another man approached you in his presence, he would politely ask them to leave you alone, making it clear that you were already taken. Or he’d simply put his arm around you in a protective, not-so-friendly manner, letting everyone know that you were his. It never bothered you. You found it cute, actually.

But this? This was different. He had never acted this way, which concerned you.

After you were done restocking the ambo you made your way to his office, hoping to ease the tension.

You sighed as you knocked, hearing a quick come-in before stepping inside. You noticed he had his head buried in paperwork, not even acknowledging you as you came in.

"Matt, honey, what's wrong?" You asked, worried when he still didn't look up at you. You waited for a moment before continuing once he didn't reply, "Baby talk to me."

He sighs before finally looking into your eyes. His ocean blues never failed to make you weak in the knees. So intimidating but beautiful nevertheless.

"I don't want to keep this a secret any longer." He eventually replied, motioning between the two of you.

"I don't want to either but you know we can't."

"Why can't we?" He said, tone a bit sharp, causing you to flinch for a second.

"Because-" you were cut off by a knock on Matt's door making you straighten up.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there's someone here to see you Y/N." Said Severide as he poked his head into Casey's office letting you know before heading out.

You quickly glance at Matt sighing before leaving his office, silently apologizing. You hated leaving mid conversation but this could be important. You noticed him trailing behind you as you walked out but chose not to comment on it.

Once you were outside, you recognized him as the man you had sent to Med earlier. The same man who had 'the hots' for you apparently, according to Brett.

This was going to be a long conversation.

"Hello!" He said, way too ecstatic for someone who had just been discharged from a hospital.

"Hi there, how are you feeling?" You asked, keeping the conversation polite.

"Better thanks to you, you saved my life."

"Oh, you know, no big deal! Just doing my job."

"Well, I was hoping to take you out on a date as a way of saying thank you." He said with confidence, catching you off guard.

"I'm very flattered sir but you don't need to thank me, let alone take me out on a date. I'm happy to help, love what I do." You say, hoping that gets rid of him.

By now, you were fully aware that most of the members of the firehouse were watching the interaction occur from behind you. Hence why you were aiming to wrap it up as soon as possible.

"No, no, I insist. We'll have a great time together!" He pushes.

"Like I said, thanks for the offer but I'm going to have to decline. Feel better." You say, turning around.

Before you had a chance to walk away, he grabbed your wrist harshly. Pulling you backward, making you lose your balance, and almost causing you to fall.

"Woah woah woah-" "Back off!" You hear the men hurriedly interject pushing him away from you before Matt yells, in a tone that sends shivers down your spine. "Get your hands off of my paramedic before I call the authorities. You have no right to touch her, especially after she said no."

Boden hears the commotion and steps out of his office. "What's going on over here?"

"This man put his hands on Y/N after she rejected him Chief. He was just leaving though weren't, you?" Matt replies, glaring at the man making him quickly walk away.

The second that he was out of sight, everyone turned to you. Stella speaks up, "Are you okay?"

"Don't worry guys, I'm fine." You say looking around at all of them, reassuring them that you're okay. "Thanks for the help. I'm sure he won't be coming back any time soon, especially after the way Casey glared at him." You add chuckling, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere around you.

"You'd almost think you guys were dating with the way he attacked him to defend you," Severide commented casually, using a tone that sounded like he knew something. Which you decided to ignore for the time being.

At the mention of your boyfriend though, you looked up hoping to catch a glimpse of him but noticed he was nowhere to be found which alarmed you.

As the crowd dispersed and engaged in their own conversations, you discreetly slipped away and made your way to visit Matt in his quarters, marking this as your second visit there in the last half hour.

This time though, you didn't even bother knocking and simply walked in.

When he noticed it was you, he quickly stood up concerned, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Oh, I'm alright. Don't worry, it was nothing I hadn't dealt with before in this line of duty, you know how men can be sometimes.” You answered, nonchalantly.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say. Finally, you decided to break the silence, “I'm sorry, Matt. I don't want to argue with you, so if it'll make you happy, we can go tell them right now.”

He sighed, turning around in his chair to look at you, “Y/N, this isn't just up to me, we’re in this relationship together. We have to make decisions like these as a team. I love you and I want everyone to know that but if you're not taking this seriously and want to go on that date instead then-”

“No! This is serious to me Matt, I love you and you know that.” You cut him off before he's able to finish the sentence. “I have eyes for you and only you, no one else matters to me but you, Matthew Casey.” You add firmly, making sure he understands that.

“Then what’s the issue here?” He asks, tired of the constant back and forth you've been having today.

You sigh and sit down on the edge of his bed before replying, “I just- I've become so close to everyone here in the last few weeks and I don't want their opinion of me to change after they find out that you and I are together. I don't want them to think that I'm only here because of you.”

“Baby…” He says in a softer tone, getting out of his seat to come sit next to you.

You don't look at him once he's sat beside you, opting to look at the floor instead.

“Hey, look at me.” He gently says taking your hands in his, grabbing your attention.

You hum as you bring your eyes up to meet his.

When he's sure you're not going to look away, he starts speaking, “Listen to me, everyone here? They're the most amazing and supportive group of people you'll ever meet. They won't dare say anything of the sort because they'd be beyond happy for us. And if they slightly even think about it, I won't hesitate to go all ‘Captain’ on them.” He says, making you chuckle.

“Besides, I don't want idiots like that guy who can't take no for an answer, hurting you again for a nonexistent chance of taking you out.” He adds.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his, and after a moment passes, you mutter a simple, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Matt questions.

“Yeah, okay, let’s tell them.” You reply, nodding enthusiastically.

“I want everyone to know that this handsome man right here,” You say pointing at his chest with a teasing tone, “Is of the market and mine only.”

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Mhm,” You say with an even bigger smile, before leaning in to press your lips against his.

As your lips finally touch, a wave of stillness washes over you. It feels as though the entire world has come to a halt and all that exists is the shared connection between the two of you. At that moment, nothing else matters except for the feeling of his lips against yours.

His delicate hand caresses your face, making you smile into the kiss as you pull him in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. There's no need to hide your love for each other anymore, allowing your affection for one another to be expressed freely without the fear of secrecy. The rush of emotion flowing through you is intoxicating and God, it is an exhilarating feeling, one that you had never felt before.

Before the kiss could progress any further, you heard cheering outside making you pull away. You glance out the window to understand what the fuss is about when you notice that the blinds were left open, meaning that all of 51 just saw you kissing Matt.

Your cheeks flush with warmth, causing you to bury your face in Matt's shoulder as he laughs at your reaction. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer in a tight embrace.

You look up at him, mouthing an ‘I love you,’

He whispers back, “I love you too.”

He quickly leans in for one more peck against your lips, before bracing himself for all the questions you're about to receive once you head outside.

“You guys were betting on us?” You asked amused, raising your eyebrows at the exchange of money happening right in front of your eyes.

“Well, what were we supposed to do!?” Cruz exclaimed defensively, earning a giggle from you.

“I mean, we all knew you guys were head over heels for each other, that was obvious. We just didn't realize you had been together prior to all of this.” Added Ritter, shrugging.

“I can speak for everyone though when I say that we are all very happy for you two.” Said Herrmann, making everyone nod in agreement.

As soon as the initial stage of shock died down, Stella and Sylvie rushed over to you, enveloping you in a group hug, requesting all the juicy details. While Kelly simply gave Matt a supportive pat on the back, smiling at his best friend.

Soon, the questions regarding your relationship began pouring in. Matt drew you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as he answered each of them one by one. You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes briefly, basking in the serenity.

And at last, you found yourself finally feeling at ease. Your family knew, and they were happy for you. Which is all you could ask for.

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cosyvelvetorchid · 5 months ago

Note

buck/tommy: single dad tommy looses his son who wanders off after a fire engine. firefigher buck to the rescue

This was such a freaking adorable prompt! Thank you!

As always you can send me bucktommy, saltommy, or Tommy prompts to my ask. Fluff or smut or both. 🩶

*****

"Lucas can you please put your shoes on?" Tommy called out from the kitchen. He could still hear the cartoon blaring from the living room. More than once he'd imagined what harm he'd like to cause the person who invented Bluey. He finished packing their lunches, shoving them into his bag, and grabbed his phone and car keys before walking into the living room and turning off the TV. Lucas whined.

"You have 5 seconds to put your shoes on or you won't be riding the engine." He told him sternly. "5..4.." The 4 year old knew daddy meant business and quickly ran to the door and put on his shoes. "Good boy." Tommy smiled and lead him out to the car.

He was taking him to the annual community fire safety event they held down town. There were lots of exciting things for kids to do - rides, entertainers, and of course a chance to sit in a real engine! Usually Tommy would be working it but this year he had actually managed to get the day off to take his son.

Lucas had been buzzing with excitement about it since Tommy had first told him about it last week. He was counting down the sleeps like he did at Christmas. It had been the first thing he'd gotten excited about since his mom had died the previous year.

He was only 3 when she died and he didn't really understand what death meant, just that mommy was in heaven with the angels. But he certainly felt the loss of his mother. His personality was diluted. Tommy had taken him to a therapist specialising in grief therapy for children, and slowly but surely he began coming out of his shell more.

Evangelina and Tommy had been best friends since they were teenagers. The type of friendship where even when they lost contact for months or even years because of all the things they each had going on in their lives, when they reconnected it felt like no time had gone by.

5 years ago she had asked Tommy to help her get pregnant. She was desperate to be a mother but she was single and time was running out. They had many, many conversations about how it would work, how they would co-parent.. if Tommy even wanted to. They decided that if she were to get pregnant, when the kid was older they'd tell them about how they came to be, but until that point he would be Uncle Tommy.

As it happened, one trip the the fertility clinic, 1 donation and 1 insemination and Evangelina had a bun in the oven. The first few months of her pregnancy went like clockwork. Until the 2nd trimester when she found a lump in her breast. Cancer. Stage 3. She was given 2 options. Terminate the pregnancy and begin treatment, or delay treatment until the baby was born, which would risk the cancer spreading. She chose the latter. After many arguments with Tommy about it, he finally accepted that this was what she wanted.

Watching his son being born was the most beautiful thing Tommy had ever witnessed. He didn't think a human heart had the capacity for that much love. Sadly, within days of Lucas' birth they received the devastating news that Evangelinas cancer had spread to her lymph nodes and other organs. It was terminal. She fought like hell to live, but a month after Lucas' 3rd birthday she passed away.

"Come on, little man. Let's go see some fire trucks!" Tommy let him out of the car, taking his hand.

"Daddy look!" He pointed to a a giant Bluey mascot dressed in turn out gear. Tommy cursed under his breath. He couldn't get away from that little blue shit. "Can we go see him?" Lucas asked.

"Of course, buddy." He said with a smile leading him over. As much as Tommy couldn't stand that damn dog, the smile on his sons face was worth it. After that they rode the teacups, Lucas met some real life firefighters (that weren't his dad), he got to sit in an ambulance and blare the sirens, and he got given so many free stickers Tommy was already imagining having to remove them from the furniture at home.

There was one more thing to do and that was to sit in an engine. Except, what Lucas didn't know was that Tommy had organised with Capt Nash of the 118 a surprise ride in the truck. But first lunch needed to be eaten. A hangry 4 year old was not what anybody needed to deal with on a Sunday afternoon.

They found a picnic table and Tommy handed Lucas his sandwiches and chips. But in the rush trying to Lucas out of the door he'd forgotten the drinks.

"Shi-shoot!" He corrected himself. Trying to police his swearing wasn't easy now that Lucas was of an age where he repeated everything he heard. Thankfully there was a booth in the picnic area that served drinks.

"Lucas, I'm going to get us something to drink. I need you to stay right here, okay? I'll just be over there-" He pointed to the booth no more than 7 or 8 meters away "-you can see me the whole time."

"Okay." Lucas sang.

"You stay here, okay? You must not get off this bench. Do you understand?"

"Yep." He replied, peanut butter and jam smeared all around his mouth. Tommy walked to the booth, looking back every few seconds to make sure Lucas was where he should be. The lady in front of him in the line dropped her purse, spilling it everywhere. It only took Tommy 10 seconds to help her pick everything up but by the time he stood back up and looked to Lucas he was gone.

His heart immediately thunder against his chest.

"Lucas?!" He called out running over to the table. "Lucas!" He looked around. He was nowhere to be seen. Panic began to set in. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. This had happened before in a grocery store a few months before and after Tommy spent 15 minutes freaking out, multiple calls over the annoy and a call to the police, Lucas was found at the other end of the store watching Bluey on one of the TVs.

There were tonnes of things at this event that a child would gravitate towards. He probably made a beeline for the Bluey mascot or an engine. No, Tommy wasn't going to freak out yet. He'd look for a few minutes first then get security.

***

"Buck have you given away ALL the candy?" Eddie asked.

"What? They're all just so adorable I couldn't say no!" Buck tried defending himself.

"You're such a push over." Eddie told him. "I'm gonna go get a coffee. I'll be back in 5." Buck waved him away as he bent down to the 4 year old standing in front of him.

"Hi" He said with a big smile. "Whats you're name?"

"Umm.. I'm not s'posed to say. You're a..a stranger."

"Thats good thinking. You're absolutely right." Buck looked around but there were no other adults in the vicinity that looked like they could be this kids parents. "Hey Buddy, are you parents here?"

"My daddy brought me to see the firetrucks." The kid told him.

"Well that's a cool dad you have, huh? Hey do you known where he is? Can you see him?" The boy looked around and lifted his hands up in an exaggerated shrug.

"Okay. Well you see this?" He pointed to the radio on his chest. "This is my very special radio. I can talk to some very cool people and maybe they can find your dad. How does that sound?"

"Okay." The boy said.

"Do you think it would be okay if you told me your name? That way I can tell my friend on the radio and it will help us find your dad." Buck asked. The boy thought about it for a second.

"My name is Lucas."

"It's nice to meet you Lucas. My name is Buck. You wanna sit in the truck while I radio my friend?"

"Yeah!" He said excitedly. Buck opened the door and lifted him up onto the seat, before getting on the radio. "Hey Cap?"

"Captain Nash here. What is is Buck?"

"I gotta kid here that seems to be lost."

"Im with Sergeant Grant now. Can you describe the kid?"

"How old are you buddy?" He asked Lucas.

"Im 4"

"He says he's 4 years old, names Lucas. Dark curly hair, wearing blue jeans and a black tshirt with a helicopter on it." He spoke into the radio.

"This is sergeant Grant. We have the father here. Where is the boy now?"

"I've got him in the engine."

"Keep him there, we're on the way."

"Good news, your dad's on the way." He told Lucas.

"My daddy is a fireman too." He said

"He is?"

"Yeah. He.. he flies helicopters too!" He said pointing to the picture on his shirt.

"Wow that is very cool!" Buck said. "You wanna put the lights and sirens on?"

"Yeah!"

"First things first, before we go to an emergency we have to be safe. So.." he grabbed a helmet from the back and gently placed in on Lucas' head. "There we go, now you're ready. See that button right there? Press it." Lucas leaned forward and pressed it and the sirens rang out.

"Woah!" Lucas cried out with a big smile. Buck smiled back, his heart melting at how adorable this kid was.

"Daddy!" He shouted pointing through the windscreen. Cap and Athena walked towards the engine with an unfamiliar man. Something shifted in Bucks stomach at the sight of him. He was tall, with a large muscular frame. A piece of his dark curly hair had fallen onto his face. Buck suddenly felt nervous. Buck switched off the siren.

"Lucas?" The man called as they reached the engine.

"Daddy! I got to put on the siren!" He said as Buck removed the helmet from him and lifted him down. The man bent down to his eyeline.

"Lucas, how many times have I told you, you cannot wall off like that? It really scares daddy when you do that." His voice was soft but strained. He hugged the boy tightly. Bucks chest tightened at the image in front of him of a scared father.

"Im sorry daddy."

"It's okay buddy." He kissed the top of his head and stood up. His eyes met Bucks and he caught a breath. The man in front of him was gorgeous. As tall as him with a slightly smaller build but long legs. He had an adorable pink birthmark by his left eyebrow underneath a head of gentle dirty blonde curls.

"Were you the one who found my kid?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah. Bu.. Evan. Evan Buckley."

Evan. Tommy couldn't help notice the similarity. Evangelina was all about signs from the universe, which He'd always waved away as hocum. But now..

"Tommy Kinard." He responded, somehow feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Thank you. For finding him." He smiled. Something about those smile lines around his eyes made Bucks heart beat a little faster.

"He actually found me if I'm honest." He laughed. Tommy looked at his son.

"I need to put bells on this kid I swear." He said. Buck smiled and Tommys mouth went dry.

"Hey Tommy, you still want that surpise thing?" Bobby asked walking over.

"So long as my kid stays in the damn truck, sure."

"What surpise?" Buck asked confused.

"Well-" Tommy said lifting Lucas up into his arms "-how would you like to go on a real life ride on an engine?" He asked Lucas.

"Can I daddy?" Lucas asked practically vibrating.

"I don't know. What do you think Captain Nash?" Tommy turned them to face him.

"I think that would be okay." He smiled.

"Well let's go then!" Tommy said to Lucas putting him the back of the engine.

"Buck, Eddie is dealing with a broken ankle by the teacups, so I need you to jump in." Bobby told him.

"Got it Cap." He jumped in the back as cap got in the drivers seat. Tommy buckled Lucas in, they he snd Buck sat either side of him. They caught eachothers gaze and held it for a few moments. Something sparked in both of their chests.

"You ready, kid?" Bobby called from the front.

"Yeah!"

"Here we go!" Bobby put the sirens on and turned on the engine.

#tommy kinard #911 abc #bucktommy #buck x tommy #911 buck #911onabc #911 #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #evan buck buckley #tommy buck #bucktommy fic #bucktommy prompt #911 prompt #tevan #cvo prompts

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allforhee · 5 months ago

Text

"𝐖𝐇𝐎'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑?" (BLURB) | HAN JISUNG

୨୧ pairing — idol!han x stylist!fem!reader

୨୧ synopsis — being a hairdresser and stylist at jyp, you didn't expect to become han jisung's girlfriend. but with it, you now have yourself your personal wig to test out your hairstyles on. and han being your loving boyfriend, of course he won't say no. but when the members start noticing the different hairstyles at practices, they start to get suspicious.

୨୧ genre — fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden romance

୨୧ warnings — secret relationship, stylist x idol, no mentions of y/n, hurt/comfort, han being a LITTLE insecure

୨୧ word count — 1678 words, not really proofread

୨୧ author’s note — first skz fic and new layout! this fic is dedicated to my favorite mootie; aika, aka @spiderhanzzz and to all my han girlies out there!!!!! i hope i did him justice hihi! inspired by brooklyn 99 6x06—where rosa shows up with a new hairstyle everyday of the investigation!!! this was so fun to write and i hope you all enjoy ;)

becoming han's girlfriend was something out of the ordinary.

you remember the days of interning for jyp's hairdressers and stylists, standing in the back and taking note of the different procedures that were done. you'd follow the main stylists around different shifts, from the female idols to the male idols.

you'd help by assisting the main stylists by giving them the scissors they needed, do a quick minimart run to buy some hairspray or hair ties that ran out, and maybe at some point bringing the used towels into the laundry.

as you followed around and practiced more, from an intern to a regularly paid hairdresser at jyp, you had progressed your skills in styling and cutting hair proudly.

you started doing your own shifts, starting off with groups like itzy and twice, before you decided to try out handling the boy groups.

fate had its own plans when you were assigned to style the hit group; stray kids.

meeting bangchan, known as chris, you'd learn to fall in love with styling them. but your heart would learn to fall in love with none other than their rapper and producer, han.

han would always start conversations with you while styling his hair, which you would happily reply to.

you knew falling in love with him was petty, when your only interactions were when you had to style his hair. yes, you may or may not have bumped into him once or twice in the hallways as you were on the way to style the next group, but a relationship? you were surprised yourself when he confessed he felt a spark between the two of you.

that's what started the courtship between the two of you. a spark. you knew it was forbidden. you knew it couldn't happen. what would the media say if it got out? "scandalous relationship between stray kids' HAN and random stylist!" oh you could see the headlines.

so when you started coming over to style han's hair more and more often, you had hoped that the other members wouldn't get suspicious of han's constant nagging of you being the one to style his hair.

to the point even you yourself would ask him if he could come over and let you try out a new hairstyle you've been learning. he'd asked you to be his girlfriend soon after. with it, you both had to learn to be more careful with the moves you took, as some of the dressing rooms had other stylists stationed to deal with other members. one wrong move and you'd be fired.

the first member to notice han's not-so discreet changes was none other than changbin. obviously they'd both practice together for shows to perfect their rapping technique, changbin begun to notice the different hairstyles.

to the point when han showed up with tiny little braids in his curly hair, was when he decided to ask.

"hannie-ya! your hair, that's interesting..." as he points at the little braids all over his hair.

han's surprised look signified something else, but his response just made it more suspicious; "oh- this? yeah, i'm trying out some things since my stylist came in late..."

"stylist? it's just practice? what would you need a stylist for?" changbin inquires, still curious.

"you know... curly hair is harder to manage!" he laughs, trying to brush off the topic.

changbin pats him on the back, knowing there was something more—but not wanting to interfere, "alright hannie, let's get to practice."

han let out a sigh, but even he knew he was slowly walking onto some thin ice. thankfully, changbin didn't tell the rest of the members of his suspicions.

but as time went on, the other members started picking up on his hair. his usual held back practice hair would turn into curls, braids, and even little space buns at one point.

by now, everyone knew of his constant changes of his hair. they knew each other well enough that they didn't need their hair styled if it was for a practice.

chan knew he had to confront him at some point, worried han was spending money on stylists he didn't need.

so during breaks in between practice chan approached him, a stern look on his face. "hannie, we need to talk about your finances."

han, obviously shocked at the question, responded with a quick "i'm an idol, what do you mean my finances?"

chan furrowed his brows, sighing. "han jisung, i'm serious. i don't want you running around the place spending useless money on stylists you don't need! if it was for fashion or clothing i would understand, but you have to understand that you don't need to go to a stylist everyday."

"i'm not spending useless money, hyung! so what i want my hair styled everyday?" han tried to defend.

"the thing is, you've been coming to practices late! you may not realize it and i may accept your tardiness once or twice, but it's getting too repetitive. what is it han? you have a secret girlfriend or something?!"

the entire practice room went quiet at chan's last statement. everyone else perked up and tried to focus on han's response. when han didn't respond and just hung his head low, everyone knew chan was right.

"hannie-ah, why didn't you tell us? we're your brothers." chan asked, trying to comfort him.

but before han could respond changbin cut with a "yah! i knew it! i knew you had a secret girlfriend! so who is she? is she a stylist or something?"

changbin's last sentence made him lower his head even further, lifting up the hood of his hoodie, only to hide his face in it.

"hyung? you have a girlfriend?" jeongin cluelessly asked.

seungmin gasps before he cuts in; "he does! wait, is it that one hair stylist you keep asking for every time we need to perform?"

all of them look to seungmin; "which hair stylist?" chan asked.

before han had a chance to respond, he pushed through the members crowding him as he ran out of the practice room. he opened his phone to find your contact pinned, and pressed call.

"jisungie? hello? what's wrong?" hearing your voice come out of his speaker made him calm down. your voice was like the light at the end of the tunnel.

"baby, i messed up. the members know." he confessed.

"know what?" you ask, confused. "about us?"

"yeah... i'm so scared they're going to find out, like what if they fire me... what if they fire you?" he questions to himself.

"sungie, stay where you are, okay? i'll find you. you need to calm down. what practice room are you at today?"

he sighs, "the usual, but i'm outside."

"i'm on my way." the line beeps as the call ends, as han grasps his phone hoping you'd come faster.

his eyes close as he tries to take deep breaths, hoping the awful scenarios he imagined would happen not come true. he then feels a soft hand on his shoulder, and as his eyes open, he engulfs the figure in a hug before he could even notice who it was.

"hannie? are you okay?" you ask him, hair clad in a claw clip after rushing from another appointment.

he stutters out a; "mianhae—mianhae—mianhae, i know you're mad at me, it's okay, i'll just have to live on the streets when they fire me and open a hair salon with you—"

he gasps as you cradle his tender face in your hands, shaking his head in disappointment. "what do you mean? han, now that your members know, we don't have to hide around anymore."

"i know that baby, but what would our label say? what if they find out?"

"that's not for your pretty head to worry about right now, for now we can enjoy the fact that you can be honest with your members. no more hiding around, no more late excuses to practices. come clean baby, it's okay." you comfort him.

han looks up at you, "you sure?" before you nod. he embraces you in another hug, before standing up and grabbing your hand, dragging you into the practice room.

everyone looks towards the doors that just opened, seungmin hurriedly standing up and cutting the silence with a; "hyung i'm so sorry i didn't mean to..."

that's when they see the two of you. han takes a deep breath before he starts speaking, as you clench his hand, signaling it's okay.

"guys... this is my hair stylist. my girlfriend." han confesses, looking into your eyes for assurance. everybody waves an annyeong to you, which you wave back. you were still in your stylist attire, an apron clad around your waist with different bits and bobs.

"so, she's your stylist? you gotta hook me up dude!" hyunjin teased him, which earned him a slap on the back from han. you laughed at the gesture, showing his protectiveness for you.

"she's my stylist, stay away!" he'd whine, hiding you behind him.

"so he's been getting his hair styled for free?!" felix asked you, which you nodded. "man we suck... we should all get stylist girlfriends."

"i have my cats... i think we're okay yongbok." minho chuckles as he puts his arm around him.

chan smiles at the interactions happening, seungmin and jeongin appalled by your presence, felix and minho arguing about whether or not they should follow han's footsteps into getting a stylist girlfriend, and changbin and hyunjin teasing han for getting someone like you.

you didn't mind the chaos, seeing chan smile at you signaling you've been welcomed into their little family.

looking at han's red face, trying to keep his composure, you quickly peck his cheek to make sure he's okay. he looked at you with a nervous smile, but you know everything's going to be fine. as long as he's by your side.

"yah! i knew it! oh ever since those little braids in your hair, i just knew it hannie-ah!" changbin laughs, han blushing at his words.

yeah. you've got han, and he's got you.

taglist; @riekiss @sesameoil721 @desistay @spiderhanzzz (crossed out = i can't tag you)

back to my masterlist?

#allforhee #allforhee-writes #stray kids #stray kids x reader #han jisung #han jisung x reader #han x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #han fluff #christopher bang #stray kids han #skz #skz x reader #skz jisung #skz han jisung #skz imagines

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