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diejager · 1 year

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a Miguel x f!reader "who did this to you?" Angst fic?

Bittersweet Devotion

Pairing : Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, neglect, canon death, dead wife, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.5k

Miguel’s been distant these days, the world around him coming to a stop. His temper shortened and his patience dropped lower than it was before, but his attentiveness to his work sharpened. He divulged more of his time to the cause, to defend the multiverse from every anomaly that kept popping up in wildly different universes, at the cost of his personal life. Ever since the *Miles issue* had been dealt with (Spots was stopped from ending Captain Morales’ life prematurely, the canon was kept safe and intact, but his parents knew of his identity and his duty to New York and the multiverse.), Miguel shut himself inside the main office, closed off from the wandering Spider-people he brought over to help him protect their livelihood.

Atop his platform, he worked tirelessly, swiping screen to screen in search of any escaping anomalies. He depended on Lyla to help him search and the rest of the community to capture and contain these anomalies before they could be sent back to their appropriate universe, closing the rifts they used to escape. The brooding Spider-Man locked himself in, imposing shoulder peering from the edge of his high-floating platform while he stayed there most nights; days even, he hadn’t returned to your shared apartment in the building. He ate when you, Jess or Peter B. brought food to him, he drank and cleaned only when you urged him to do so.

Staying in his den meant that he rarely slept, the dark bags under his beautiful eyes growing as the days passed. Anomalies appeared left and right, Spiders were dispersed to catch them, sometimes in solo missions, and other times in teams if Miguel deemed it necessary for the anomaly (Green Goblins, Vultures and Sandman were some that were harder to deal with for their volatile attacks.). If you weren’t sent away on a retrieval mission, you’d be working around his office, keeping it clean and usable while he moved around, growling and throwing things as he went.

That’s where things became complicated, Miguel hated meddling and you were often in his space. While he was soft and caring in your shared room (the one he hadn’t been in for weeks now), he was domineering and imposing around the others. His shorter temper meant he often hissed and growled at you, brown eyes glimmering red as he sneered your way. You hadn’t made much of it, contributing his issues to the stress and anxiety he felt while shouldering all this madness. His glares and growls meant little, he was under pressure, but his words, his rants in your face hurt.

His words burned you to your core, the degrading things he screamed at you when you did something that might’ve ticked him off or the insults he’d throw your way when you did something he deemed unsatisfactory. They stung, but you ignored the pain that tore into your heart, the tears that threatened to fall and the anger you felt at his shrugs. You simply missed him.

Didn’t you deserve some affection? To feel the tender caresses of Miguel’s hands on your skin, the loving promises of his dreams and wishes, and the adoring stares he sent your way. Were you selfish for wanting that? For wanting to have your lover back in your arms. Or were you feeling neglected from the time you spent alone in your bed, the faded scent of his musk, the coldness of your apartment and the uneaten and forgotten plates on the dining table? Were you at fault for feeling forgotten? To sacrifice one for the good of thousands. To sacrifice your love for the safety of all universes. Did one outweigh the other?

“Hijo de puta! Why can’t you do anything right?!” He’d scowl at you, talons digging into the metal of his desk. The ear-splitting sound echoed as he dragged his talons to the edge of the table, red eyes brimming with wrath. He seemed on a warpath, ripping into anything he could get his talons in and throwing the things he could lift off the platform. (Motherfucker-)

You skipped around the objects he threw in his fit, ducking under a chair he gripped and swung randomly, over the desk he kicked, and around the cabinet, he swiped at. Every object he used to vent his emotions were light, in comparison to your given strength. He’d complain afterwards about his things being broken and needing fixing, something you helped him with unless they were too technologically advanced for your time. You webbed all the things you could, aiming your wrist and quickly sticking your end to the floating platform when it stuck to the victims of Miguel’s power.

You danced around him, catching everything without getting too close to Miguel. He acted without thinking at times in these fury-filled moments, eyes tinging red and reverting to his more animalistic side. He’d warned you before about staying clear of him, to wait until he calmed himself down and realized the devastation of his office. Then he’d apologize and kiss you in hopes you’d forgive him (you always did, you knew his biology made him different - more violent - than you and the Spiders.). You’d fix the platform up, remake the broken parts or simply forget about it, like the many cabinets he ended up buying instead of patching them up.

Now especially, his tantrums began more often and lasted longer, a common occurrence when it was rare months ago. You couldn’t fault him, you didn’t want to, even if your heart throbbed painfully at his words, shoulders curving under the immensity of his tone and actions. You loved him, so you’d bare him in his best as in his worst.

“Detente- Simplemente detente!” In his fits of rage, Miguel reverted to his vulgarity, spitting Spanish words at anyone he faced. His voice was low and gravely, body convulsing as he swung at the fizzling, orange screens, dissipating under his aggressive gesture. (Stop- Just stop!)

When his fuse popped, he’d throw words left and right in Spanish, the enchanting slur of his Mexican accent turning hellish, slamming loudly like the Hephaestus’ hammer. Along his hit came the blow, the effects following them. Whether they were positive or negative, he pushed on, frenziedly hammering the weight of his words into whoever was the nearest to him. Which, coincidentally, happened to be you at the moment when you climbed onto his platform to relay the summarised report of last week’s missions from every Spider.

You let him ramble in silence, watching him twist on the spot and walk circles before his desk, turning and gesturing arbitrarily at something that wasn’t there. He’s expressive with his love, his spite, his care, his needs and his fury. He’d make big motions with his hands, voice dipping low and sometimes rising high with the pitch of his impatience. He growls when he’s displeased. He roars when he’s furious. He spits when he’s agitated. He smirks when he’s pleased. If not his voice or his lips, his eyes shine with emotion, showing those who knew how to read him how he felt.

That’s why you ignored the sharp nabs at your person, the low jabs at your work and how you dealt with the other Spiders as his right hand, or at your simple performance of his care. He didn’t want your care when he was busy, he didn’t want your soft and soothing words when he was tracking down another anomaly with vehement hate, and he didn’t want your meddling when he was focused on important matters of the multiverse.

He was stressed, and pressure mounted over self-expectations made him lose himself. Down went his tolerance for failure and mistakes. Down went his awareness of his needs. Down went his patience with people and Lyla. Every man and woman would buck under intense pressure, some would break and stop working, and others would submit to the fate of their failures, but Miguel persevered, he pushed and pushed, pulling at the strings he could grasp, even the shortest ones.

“Can you just- Coño- can you just shut up for a second?!” Miguel bucked, slamming his fist into the desk. It’d probably leave a dent for you or him to fix, a hole in the shape of his fist.

You rushed to him, hand wrapping around his upper arm, supporting his hunched body as you webbed a chair closer to him, pulling on the synthetic fibre until it was behind Miguel. You whispered encouraging words into his ear, easing him into sitting on the rolling furniture. His legs shook, falling limp when he finally sat down, back slumped over and head low. You ran your fingers through his hairline, pulling up his wild mane. His eyes were closed, bags the deepest you’d seen, and his cheeks were sunken, near sickly.

A chill wracked your body at his deteriorating appearance, his exhaustion had finally caught onto him. You wanted to fuss over him, to berate him for letting it get this far, but his exhausted figure made you frown and rethink your words. You couldn’t let this go on, you’d have to sit him down and talk to him after you took care of him. You lowered the platform, watching Miguel from the corner of your eye until you reached the lowest it could go.

“Miguel,” you hushed, pressing your lips to his cheek, soft and gentle for his fatigue. “We need to get you to our room, you can’t work anymore.”

He grumbled, feet weakly moving to ease the weight on your shoulders, you wanted to remind him that you were strong and that you could easily carry him back if you wanted, but he liked to keep his pride as the strongest, the boss that people could depend on. You nodded at those who gave you worried glances, shaking their helping hands for carrying him (you knew Miguel wouldn’t have liked others to touch him so casually.) and asked some to run errands for you while you two were busy. Lyla would take over for now, until you took care of Miguel.

“Let me help you, Miggy. Let me take care of you.”

He slept better than night, the best sleep he’d gotten in weeks - months - and was grounded to a week of rest and recuperation. You helped him shower, washing his back and hair. You cooked his favourite dishes, following the Mexican cooking books you had laying around. You gave him daily massages for the aches over his shoulders and back, massing the tenseness off his arms and legs. At night, you’d force him to bed, blocking his access to his office and kissing him goodnight. The sun rose with you, you rode Hélio’s chariot, turning his nights into mornings as you pulled Selena’s moon into the sky.

While he rested, you worked tirelessly to fill in Miguel’s seat, scouring the multiverse for anomalies and sending Spiders to deal with them. You had Lyla run diagnostics and simulations about the chance for future appearances, playing the game of prediction and bettering the percentage after each successful prediction. Peter B. and Jess could help you around the clock, they shared the job you had as Miguel’s right-hand and worked fantastically together when put in charge of it. They were still sent on missions if you and Lyla determined it was too difficult to face alone, they were skilled and had experience, and they would mentor those who needed help. If the case came forward, you would step away from the office and jump through the multiverse, aiding your fellow Spiders to capture anomalies while Lyla took care of the office.

Miguel came back healthier, stronger and more energetic. He thanked you in the forms of kisses and hugs, gratified words and gestures that made your heart warm, flutter like wings. It nearly made you forget all the heartache he burdened you with within the past months. Nearly.

Something had ticked Miguel off, his ragged breath simmering in the air, a steady stream of fury. It burned like the lowest pits of hell, ruled by the cold tone of its god, seated at the top-most throne of the Underworld. Powerful and iron-handed, Hades led with strong principles and meticulous habits, much like Miguel did. His fury and anger were dealt by Cerberus, the three-headed dog of hell, as ferocious and dangerous as Miguel’s agitated state was.

His shoulders shook, waves of unadulterated rage filtered off his back, rippling his sculpted back as metal creaked under his hands. His talons sunk into the metal, drawing lines in his anger-filled moment. He spun to face you with a roar, arms flailing until he faced you. He heaved heavily, shoulders and chest moving as his blood rushed with emotions, eyes dilated and turned deep red. He stalked towards you in all his mad glory, like the form of the Cyclops casting its dooming shadow on Odysseus’ men. Except, unlike his men, who were eaten in a blink, embraced by death in such a violent but swift way, you’d be ripped apart by it, pieces of your being torn apart for a slow and painful descent.

He moved in big, lumbering steps, looming over you, shoulders broad and demanding. He sneered at you, in ways that would kill others but wound you deeply, to tear your heart out and throw it away like old, wilted flowers. The air seemed stuffy, hot and confining, his breath even hotter, burning you when he stopped inches from you. You gaped at him, eyes wide and fingers trembling, something crossed your mind, a flash of emotion that you never thought possible to connect to Miguel: fear.

“Why can’t you be like-!” He started, mind dead set on breaking you down to your smallest, his force slamming into your softer one. Then he stopped, body seizing as if he was shot, but his round eyes told you he almost let himself slip, to let the name slip from his tongue in a haze. You knew who he was talking about, the memories that he related to her, that he was simply mad, but it didn’t ease the pain that ripped through your heart.

“Like who, Miguel!?” You cried back, hands clenching and rigid on your side. Your body trembling with disgust, shock and heartbreak. You couldn’t believe he would bring her up, to compare you to her and voice it out. It hurt; it drove the nail deeper into your coffin, adding another thing over the mountain of doubt and pain.

He just stared, he couldn’t finish his sentence, a starch contrast to his attitude seconds ago. It pained you that he couldn’t even say the words, to apologize to you about what he said. He knew how to run, how to ignore, and how to push things back. He did that well, and now he couldn’t face what he said to you was pathetic.

“Like who, huh?! Like her!? Like Dana?!” Your vision blurred, and your breath hitched as your body crashed down with agony, sadness and betrayal. You shook this time while he looked on with desperation, body unable to make a sound or motion.

“I- no- mi cielo, no- I didn’t mean to, I swear, ” he reached out, hand (his talons had received back into his pads) extending to touch you, to hold you in an apologetic embrace, but you stepped back, unable to contain your sobs. “Mi vida, please. Perdón, no fue mi intención.” (I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.)

You backed away from him, his warmth, his adoration, his love. His apology sounded guilty, dripping with regret and sorrow. He winced, watching you step away from him, regret gripping his heart as he moved to follow you. Every step you took backward, he took one forward, copying you, trying to approach you as if you were a wounded and unpredictable animal, to appease and soothe you.

You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from his teary ones. You fiddled with your watch, opening a portal to your world and shook off your watch. You jumped back before he could catch you, hand extended to you in a desperate attempt to stop you. He wanted to bring you back into his arms, to kiss the tears away and beg for forgiveness until you let him back in, but to leave him, to throw away the watch that connected you to him. It broke him.

He wouldn’t be able to see you unless you wanted to be seen, the tracker in your watch left blinking before his feet, discarded as you had with him; after he pushed you away, tore you down with his words spurred by the moment’s rush of negativity and pressure. It wasn’t an excuse, he knew that, but it didn’t ease. He sank to the floor, raking it with his talons as he cried out, a pained sob breaking out of his chest as he cradled his head, cursing himself for not being careful, for not heeding your winces and frowns, and not taking your heart into consideration.

You fell when you landed in your universe, knocking a few boxes as you crashed onto your side. Your body jerked, cold droplets pouring down on your broken figure as you sat back up on the pavement. You hissed, the downcast atmosphere making your body heave a heartbroken sob, clutching your chest - where your heart would’ve been if Miguel hadn’t shattered it - and falling into yourself. You made yourself smaller, hiding your tear-stained face between your knees as you let the rain shower over you, soaking you down to your socks.

A relationship built on pain, need and desperation was bound to fall. The carelessness of his ways cracked the edge of your relationship, slowly breaking it down into a shell of what it was. You bled for his cause as you bled for your loss. Like Apollo - a caregiver, a watcher of the fates of the people he oversaw, all the good and evil he could do just by saying the word - Miguel loved and felt, he gave and took, but lost it all in the end. His heart was broken and his soul lost over and over, the people he loved and cared for lost to time and fate. Like the Greek god, he loved what he could not have, loved what he could not hold, loved what he could not keep.

As would Daphne’s story, she loved as much as you did, she cared as much as you did, and she hated as much as you did. In love was the god, as Miguel was with you, heart-stopping in every aspect. He stood like a god over them all, tall, broad and caring. But like any Greek love story, yours was as tragic, the hymn of your love left to fester with hate and anger, with regret and untold pain. Run, you did as Daphne had, crossing where you hoped he couldn’t reach you; where you’d be left hidden from the heartbreaking sorrow.

You didn’t know how long you sat in the rain, perhaps seconds, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, but every moment blurred into one. The once vibrant colours of New York dulled to a boring monochrome, the world was swallowed in tones of black and white. Your limbs felt numb, you could hardly feel the cold, only the drops of rain and the heaviness of your heart in your chest. You could sit here a while longer, to drown in the sensation of the world falling around you-

Then it stopped raining. That wasn’t right, you could see the water crashing onto the ground by your feet, inches from you. Your side felt warm, a calm, soothing warmth that made your body quake from the cool air. You looked to the side and saw feet, big ones. You followed their body, tracing the lines of their soaking pants, to a warm jacket, broad shoulders and to a familiar face.

“Oye, who did this to you?” His voice dripped with worry, a calmness that contradicted his frowning eyes. It was a familiar voice. It was a familiar face. It was Miguel’s face. Your lips quivered, staring at the face of your lover - ex-lover now that you thought about it - with newly shed tears. His eyes widened, even more worried than before as he crouched down to your height, hand running down your back soothingly. “Hey, hey, calm down. It’s all right.”

You wished you could believe his words, believe the softness in his tone and the beat of your torturous heart that missed the Miguel you knew. This one - your universe’s Miguel O’Hara (you didn’t even know you had one in your New York, it felt surreal to your depressed mind.) - was a stranger wearing the face of the person you loved. His face was a carbon copy of your Miguel’s, but softer on the edges, calmer and more… human than Spider-man 2099. His voice was gentler, caring more warmth for a stranger in need than yours has, like a whisper from an angel lulling you into a peaceful rest.

“Vamos, let’s get you out of the rain first.”

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 months

Text

Love Conquers All (one-shot)

Synopsys: The wedding is finally afoot. Astarion and his love have fought for it tooth and nail, but could there be more to life after happily-ever-after?

Set after the main events of BG3 This is a follow up to Homecoming (one-shot). Would probably advise reading it beforehand :)

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe a bit of angst, insecure Astarion, but just pure teeth-rotting fluff

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, mentions of SA

Word count: 8875

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

Astarion knew ever since he met Y/N, she was the only one he could imagine spending the rest of his life with. They had gone through hells and back for one another, quite literally going head-to-head with a devil. They’d fought for their happily ever after tooth and nail, and now, the biggest day of their lives (yet) was here.

The vampire spawn woke up from his trance jittery and excited for what was to come. It had been ages since he’d felt this way, such joy while looking forward to what the day had installed for him because he was finally going to marry the love of his life.

Their day would be perfect, Astarion had done everything to ensure it. He’d taken to wedding planning like a cat to cream, making sure that once their day arrived, even the smallest detail would be flawless.

It had taken them two years to settle on a time of the year, let alone a date, but that had given him enough time to grow the flowers for the arrangements that now decorated their house, fussing with them like one would with a child (and sometimes threatening a certain rose if it didn’t grow the way he wanted it to). He even invertedly created a couple of new variates in the process, but those were specifically relegated as the flowers Y/N would weave in her hair for the ceremony.

He had even meticulously studied cookery books, having his parents along with his love be his taste testers, seeing he couldn’t really enjoy eating human food, but he’d be damned if something disgusting would be served in his house, no less on his wedding day. Unless it had a ten out of ten approval from everyone involved, Astarion scrapped the recipe and started over. He was fairly certain the caterers hated him because he’d made them prepare the food before and until they got it absolutely right, he was on their asses day and night.

But if he had to pick a favourite process throughout all the planning, it was when Y/N had come to him late one night as he burrowed himself in his sowing room and requested, that he design and make her wedding dress. Astarion almost got down on his knees in reverence as she looked at him with such tender eyes. And, well, let’s just say – during fittings, his hands might’ve skimmed the inside of her thighs on more than one occasion, and his head might’ve slipped below the skirt to taste between her legs, wholly unprofessional.

Oh, and that dream of a house with a grand library, where shelves of books stretched from one corner to the other, and a large ballroom to host parties until daylight broke – no longer was it a simple dream, but rather his reality. Not only that, he could hear people fussing all across the house as hired staff prepared final details and decorations for the ceremony.

The new house, or let’s be honest, the manor, Astarion and Y/N lived in, had not come easy though. He’d pretty much brought his lover to the end of her wits when they’d gone on the search for their dream home. In the end, it boiled down to her threatening to make them live in the forest like Halsin, sleeping on the hard ground, if he didn’t come to a decision.

Astarion was aghast at the suggestion, crossing his arms and pouting hard. “Why are you so upset about this?” He couldn’t understand what the big issue was with him being so picky. “We’re looking for the place to start our new lives in! It has to be no less than absolute excellence! Do you not want that?”

“Of course, I do!” Y/N rolled her eyes, putting her half-drunk wine glass on the bedside table and shifting her body to completely face him. “But nothing is perfect in this world, Star.”

When he narrowed his scarlet gaze at her, she huffed and shifted to sit on her knees, cupping his face between her palms. “Nothing in life is without its flaws, but that’s the beauty of it all. It gives us a chance to grow and change. And it’s the same with a house. Floors are fixable. Sofas and divans can be reupholstered. Walls can be repainted, those dilapidated wallpapers ripped off, hells we can knock the wall down if we want to… but we will never find our perfect home if we don’t put the work in and make it ourselves.”

Y/N’s soft thumb ventured up to smooth out the grumpy lines that had appeared on Astarion’s forehead. “If you want perfect, you have to do the work to make it so. Because that last house we saw, the one you said could be ours, if it didn’t have those stains on the table or that feeling wallpaper or the hole in the roof that needs fixing – that was someone else’s perfect home because they made it that way.”

Astarion scrunched his nose. “Did a shitty job, that’s for sure.”

If Y/N could roll her eyes any harder, he was sure they’d get stuck in the back of the skull like that. “My point is, we have to make it that way. Yes, the whole process will be long and tedious and I’m fairly certain, there will be moments where we want to kill each other, because, gods forbid, I want the blackout curtains to be emerald not burgundy. But none of that will matter because it will be ours… what can be more perfect than that?”

The vampire always had a comment on the tip of his tongue, he always had a sarcastic remark or some sort of critique to offer, but to this, he had nothing to reply, as he pondered the words.

Y/N tilted her head, a smile blooming on her lovely mouth. “I know you want everything to be exactly how you see it in your head, right from the very start. I know you don’t want to fight anymore, and gods, my love, you don’t deserve to fight for anything, but this isn’t it… this is change. And I think you’re more scared than annoyed at all the little things that might need mending.”

Astarion averted his gaze, looking past Y/N and to the window, the bright light of the moon illuminating the woods beyond. From the corner of the eye, he could see her engagement ring, the ruby glinting like a star in the sky. A finger brushed over his brow, soothing him. “I think you’re nervous to go after what you want, so you’re trying to find any possible reason as to why every house we’ve viewed has had something unfixable to it.”

Closing his eyes, Astarion leaned into her touch. “I hate it when you can see through me like that.” He hated to admit it. It felt like some sort of weakness to be seen so clearly, but he also knew Y/N would never judge him for his fears. But it was still hard to voice them. “I just – I’m scared it will be different.”

“It will be.” She shrugged. “But different doesn’t mean it’ll be bad.”

He didn’t seem convinced though as his mind and attention drifted off, and she had to tilt his chin towards her, a kiss to his forehead bringing him back into the moment. “My Star, we can always stay right where we are. I love this house. And as long as we’re together, it doesn’t matter where we make our home.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, my love,” Astarion let out an undignified scoff. “As darling as this place is, I still want that library. And, well, maybe a tailoring room would be lovely. And I can’t say I would be opposed to a walk-in closet, instead of that little dresser we have now.”

More and more his lips turned into a smile and his gaze lightened as they went on until the morning dawned, talking and mapping out what their perfect abode would be like. They talked about the colours of the walls, where they’d like to hang paintings and how many mattresses their bed should have. Astarion insisted on at least three, so it would feel like resting on a cloud. Y/N thought it was a bit ridiculous, but if that was what he wanted, it’s what he would get. As long as he promised her to have separate duvets, the cover hog that he was.

They settled on a manor near the city, but far enough from the crowds to still keep some sort of privacy. She had been right about the restorations being long and mind-numbingly taxing and took them over a year and a half to return the manor to its former glory. All of their funds sank into it, and as Y/N had also warned – there came a moment where it seemed like they would rip one another’s heads off, having to spend a night in separate rooms. But now they got to relish in the fruits of their labour as the ballroom Astarion had manifested was being transformed into their wedding chapel.

He lazily stretched out his limbs, curling around his still-sleeping love. If he’d had a tail, the cat that he was, he would weave it over Y/N’s middle and curl it, trying to pull her closer if possible.

The woman grumbled something unintelligible, tightening the hold she had on one of the four pillows she had.

“Good morning, my wife. Our big day is here. Time to get up.” Gently, he brushed strands of wild hair from her face, placing them behind her ear, to which he leaned down and gave a playful nibble. To Astarion’s delight, he felt a shiver run down her spine, her toes curling against where she’d pressed them to his calf.

“Not your wife yet,” Y/N grumped, turning so that she could hide her face in the crook of his neck, tickling the sensitive skin there with warm puffs of breath. “And your bride needs her beauty sleep unless you wish for her to look like a troll at the altar. Didn’t give me much of it last night.”

A wicked grin formed on his mouth, one incisor lightly biting on her earlobe. “I didn’t hear you complaining though. In fact, I didn’t hear you say anything but my name.”

Teasing fingers brushed against her ribs and the underside of her breasts, a breath hitching in Y/N’s chest. When he splayed his hand against her stomach, she hummed in pleasure, the sound reverberating through his chest and seeping into his bones.

Her own palms moved from hugging Astarion’s side to his back, nails softly scratching up and down the skin there – so very tenderly over the scars, but with a bit of a bite right above his rear. If he could purr, he would be, but alas, he just moaned and melted like an icicle in the sun.

It was almost tempting to just stay in the bed like that, twining together and just relishing in one another’s touch.

“When are your parents getting here?” Y/N yawned and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Your mother promised to help me with the dress and hair.”

“Right as the sun goes down. We should have plenty of time before the moon is high.”

They had decided on a night-time wedding, so the following celebrations could be moved outside into the lavish gardens Astarion had so lovingly created. He may not be able to walk in the sun anymore, but he’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy at least the moonlight. Besides, daytime weddings were so casual, and he was anything but.

He rested his palm in between Y/N’s breasts, but he just kept it there, didn’t try and stray any further. He simply wanted to feel how her heart beat against his palm, the rhythm a steadying and grounding feeling, and it somewhat calmed his fluttery nerves.

“Then we have a few more hours to sleep,” came Y/N’s slurred response as she hitched a leg over his naked hip, but she didn’t try to go any further either. “And you are not getting out of this bed, my personal pillow.”

Astarion smiled at her words and kissed her forehead. He’d been smiling an awful lot since he met her. “Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

And even though he itched to go downstairs and supervise every single thing, he allowed the peace that came with being next to Y/N to settle over him as well. It was their day. His day. And starting it off with his little human sweetheart wrapped around him like a vine, keeping him close to her, was nothing short of wonderful.

At some point, she did fall asleep again, Astarion’s movements as his deft fingers massaged the back of her head, lulling her to dreamland. His mind drifted a bit but remained more alert than when he tranced, wandering to how exactly he’d gotten to a moment where in just a few little hours he’d become someone’s husband.

Not only did he have Y/N, but he had his parents to relish in the moment with. He had friends, something that was competently out of the question for two hundred years, and all of them would be arriving to witness the most joyous day of his life. Him! With friends! He even had a true sister, something that’d surprised even him.

That had come about when Astarion had ventured into the Underdark once and reconnected with Darylia. At first, he’d thought there would be too much bad blood between them, no pun intended. It’s why he’d strayed away from the region after he’d freed the rest of the seven thousand spawn from Cazador. Too many painful memories bound them, but instead of admonishments, he found comfort.

He’d bumped into Dalyria at a tavern as he was tracking down an artefact. Astarion was nothing short of astonished when she invited him to a tavern for a drink. The conversation was awkward at first, but as they talked more and more, she seemed to be actually happy for him as he confirmed he was still with Y/N, had a little house by the forest to call their own and spent his days keeping in touch with the party that’d formed during the tadpole adventure while trying to get a sowing business off the ground. She was even more ecstatic to hear when Astarion announced he was engaged.

Dal had a wistful smile on her face. “I would be a liar if I said I didn’t envy you, but… you deserve it. All that happiness… after what Cazador put you through, you deserve all that’s good.”

He didn’t want to, but a ball formed in his throat at her words. “Cazador wasn’t kind to any of us.”

“No,” she mussed. “But you did free us from him. And when you had the chance to take his power for yourself, to become the most powerful vampire in existence, you didn’t. You allowed us to go out there and regain the years we lost under his control. To make our own lives. For that, you deserve only the best.”

A snort escaped him as he swirled the remains of his wine. “Y/N would say not committing mass murder is quite a low bar, if that’s why I’m worthy of happiness.”

“Maybe, but no one would fault you had you gone for it.”

“Maybe…” Astarion pondered. “But I would not have been worthy of Y/N, then. That is for sure.”

Dalyria clinked her glass of blood against his before emptying it, and he was glad he had not been drinking himself as he sure would have choked on the drink. “Will you teach me how to find love? I – I think I’d like to find what you two have. Become… worthy of having it.”

Astarion didn’t know how to respond, but ultimately said he could only try, yet unless the change came from within, there wasn’t much he could do. And the hardest part wouldn’t be learning how to find love, but learning how to love oneself. Only then you could learn how to love others.

“Seems awfully tedious,” Dalyria’s brow had furrowed.

He chuckled and nodded. “It is. But I’ve learned, as much as it can be boring, it’s worth it in the end.”

It had taken time for the vampire to start the process of self-acceptance and processing the trauma, but Astarion was right there by her side, and now, she would be by his, a partner of her own next to her, a human at that, as he tied the knot.

Y/N’s nose scrunched in her sleep as their blissful moment was interrupted by a bell chiming through the house. She grabbed a pillow and smushed it over her head hitting him in the face in the process. “We should’ve eloped.”

“My love, you know as well as I do, our dear friends would’ve hunted us down like prey and dragged us before an altar by the ears. And honestly – I would help them with that.”

When they had rolled out the announcement of their engagement, Astarion’s mother helping them write beautiful little cards to send to their party most had actually shown up to congratulate them in person.

Karlach had been the first one to arrive, banging on the door to let her in, seemingly bursting with excitement. “If my engine wasn’t fixed, I think I would have levelled a whole block when I got the card!” She jumped up and down as she smothered them in a hug.

The second the Tiefling reluctantly released Y/N and Astarion from her grasp, Shadowheart appeared, a bit more subdued in the way she showed her happiness, but still very much so thrilled. She’d even brought along a bottle of wine, as such an event had to be celebrated.

Gale along with Tara teleported right into the living from straight from Waterdeep, a chest of tomes with him, a gift for the library Astarion wanted.

“I even cancelled today’s lectures, and my students were so delighted, they also got you something.” He extended a smaller box, a gorgeous set of feather pens inside. “A thanks for the day off and congratulations on the engagement.”

Wyll, now Grand Duke, joined the festivities right as the sun started its descent.

“I would’ve come sooner, but duties call.”

“Ever the honourable man.” Astarion hugged the once Blade of Frontiers. “I’m lucky Y/N doesn’t care much for honour, otherwise I would be fighting a losing battle.”

“It’s all the blood loss,” she chimed in, hugging Wyll as he congratulated her. “Questionable decisions are not uncommon when oxygen is depleted in the blood.”

Her vampiric love pointed a finger at her. “Well, there are no takebacks, so deal with it.”

Oh, how far he’d come such jokes didn’t sting, and instead he could laugh at them because he knew she wouldn’t leave him. It was certainly not something he ever had to fear.

Halsin and Lae’Zel were last to join Dalyria accompanying them as the night settled, completing their little group.

They spent hours drinking and laughing, enjoying red drinks, some wine, and some other ethically sourced, of course, substances as they lounged by the fireplace.

“So, when will the actual wedding be?” Gale asked as he stretched over a loveseat, Tara having claimed his lap as a napping spot, her purrs echoing through the room. “I would be more than happy, and well, my students most definitely, to cancel the exams for it. Such an affair cannot be missed. Two heroes of Baldur’s Gate wedding each other.”

Wyll pointed a finger at the wizard. “You know, you are onto something. I might just have to make it a day of celebration in the city!”

“Actually…” Y/N shifted next to Astarion. “We were thinking of just going to a magistrate and signing the papers as soon as possible. Nothing grand really.”

A stunned silence settled before Dalyria snapped her gaze toward her brother. “You must be joking,” she deadpanned. “Astarion, I think you might need to lay off feeding from her for a while.”

“Y/N was thinking that,” he rolled his eyes at the outburst. “I disagree.” Turning on his best pout, the vampire glanced at the woman pressed to his side. “You would so willingly deprive me of seeing you in a wedding dress like it isn’t the most important day of our lives. I, for one, wish for this to be my only wedding, yet you break my heart into pieces with your words.”

Lae’Zel let out her signature “t’chk” of disapproval at Y/N’s amused huff. “I cannot believe I am saying this, but the spawns are right. A ceremony must be held. None of this magistrate nonsense, but a real, proper ceremony.”

“You all just want a party.” The Y/H/C-haired woman crossed her arms over her chest.

Halsin boomed a chuckle. “Well, we will not say no to the one a wedding comes with. But if you do not wish to have your dearest companions, people who love you most in the world, to be next to you on such an important day, that is completely dine. It is your wedding after all.”

“Oh, come on!” Y/N threw her hands up with a laugh. “That is so unfair! I mean, I just don’t care for the pageantry of it all.”

“Sweetheart, you are marrying the most pompous man to walk this earth. No offense, Astarion.” Shadowheart looked at the elf, but he simply shrugged, as it was true. “And you mean to tell me there will be no grand display of love?”

Her lover nodded at the cleric’s words, batting his lashes at Y/N. “Besides, would you truly be so cruel, that you’d deny my parents such a day? After everything they’ve gone through.”

“Alright, now you’re just blatantly blackmailing me.” She gave him a humour-filled look.

Astarion put a hand on his chest in mock outrage. “Blackmail my darling intended? I would never! However, if I were, I would also mention that the ring on your finger did belong to my mother, who so lovingly passed it onto you, saying she wished for you to wear it when she saw you next. You know, just a little information, to tug on your heartstrings.”

And tug at her heartstrings it did, as Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes widened, no doubt mind whirling from the statement.

“This is your mother’s ring?” She looked down at the piece of jewellery like it was the most precious thing in the world. “You didn’t tell me that.”

He didn’t intend for her to cry, but he wiped at her cheeks as a couple of tears rolled down her face. “She gave it to me the night we went to see my parents for the first time. I was already preparing to do it, but it just gave me the final push I needed to actually ask you. Even though I technically never did ask.” Astarion nudged her side, and Y/N snorted, dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

“Wait, hold on.” Dal leaned forward, a scrutinous gaze turned towards the elf. “What do you mean he never asked the bloody question? First no wedding, now no proper proposal?”

Karlach though seemed to have other more pressing thoughts in her head. “Holy shit, Fangs, you robbed your mother’s grave!? I mean that is messed up even for you!”

“Rewind.” Gale swirled a finger in the air. “You have a mother?”

All these questions and statements were said one over the other as the room exploded into a full-blown interrogation, everyone flinging queries their way. It took Astarion and Y/N about an hour to respond and tell the full story, but not before they stopped laughing.

At that moment though, Astarion clad in his silk pyjama set, the face greeting him was so full of delight, Karalch shone brighter than the set sun.

“I feel like I could just burst!” The tiefling hugged him, and he responded in kind. It’d become one of his favourite physical ways to show and receive affection. “But where is the wife-to-be herself?”

“Still in bed. You know Y/N and mornings, well, nights I guess, do not mix.”

“Ah, yes,” a male voice agreed and Karlach stepped aside to allow Wyll to enter. “You know, there were moments during our adventure when I genuinely thought our fearless leader would be the one to end us. Remember that time Gale woke her up before dawn because he needed an artefact to consume? His poor eyebrows.” The Grand Duke shook his head. “Honestly thought it might’ve very well have been the last moments of our dear wizard.”

“And yet, it wasn’t!” As if summoned, the Wizard of Waterdeep himself poofed into existence in the foyer. “I live to see yet another day where I can bless my friends with my presence. Eyebrows intact this time.”

Astarion couldn’t control the eye roll as it was almost reflexive when it came to Professor Gale Dekarios, but he couldn’t deny the happiness rushing through his veins seeing the man. If he ever saw Mystra in the mortal plane, she’d better start praying to a god herself, for what he put his friend through.

“It was… quite the look, I have to say,” Lae’Zel commented as she entered the house, joining their group. It seemed like they had a tendency to appear in the same places at the same time even without scheduling such a thing. “But do not attempt to upstage the bride, Gale. Astarion will already be doing his best. Though if these are your chosen clothes,” she gave him a onceover. “I believe Y/N has absolutely nothing to be concerned about.”

Astarion scoffed. “This is handwoven silk.”

“That is poor excuse for wedding attire.” Shadowheart appeared behind them all. “For once we agree, Lae’Zel, so enough with the chitchatting. A wedding needs to happen, and you need to get dressed.”

The only reason he’d decided to put on some clothes was because the thought of his parents walking in on him naked, was enough to pull out all the stashed winter attire and cover himself up so much nothing but his nose would be showing. Now though, Astarion almost wanted to rip them off just to spite the gathered crowd but abstained.

Before he did scamper off, he showed where they could go and mingle while he checked on the final details, especially how the ballroom was looking, and he had to admit, the drow in charge of decorations had turned it into something from a fairy tale.

The room had high windows, all the shutters open to let in the pale light of the moon garlands hanging from the ceiling and walls, the many mirrors on the sides, giving an effect that the room was larger than it truly was, creating an illiusion of a forest inside their home. At the very end between two columns of chairs was the altar where Shadowheart would officiate, two golden cups already placed on a velvet pillow.

There was hired staff in the gardens where food and drinks were being handed out.

Astarion took in a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out. Everything was going to be just fine. He had promised as much to Y/N. This nervousness had been one of the reasons he’d wanted to take on the whole wedding affair onto himself.

“I don’t want you to lift a single finger.” Astarion had brushed his nose against Y/N’s cheek after it was settled a full-blown wedding was happening and their friends had dispersed, leaving the two lovebirds on their own. “Just leave it all to me.”

“I mean, I can’t do that,” she exasperated. “It’s our day. We both should be involved. I won’t put such an event all on your shoulders.”

“But I want you to! Listen to me – me getting to order others around as they have to bend our every wish and whim, while all you have to do is nod for yes, and shake your head for no – sounds like a great time to me.”

“Sounds very unfair to you.” Y/N was still sceptical frowning hard at Astarion’s proposition.

“Look,” he sighed, taking her hand in his. “Let me do this for you. For us. You saved me back when I thought I was beyond it. I fully believed I was relegated to nothing but a life of pain and darkness and then… you showed up. You helped me through so many horrors, held me when it felt like the walls were pressing in… I would not have been able to do so without you. So please… let me make this day something you can enjoy and not have to worry about. I am very convincing when I set my eyes on something I want.”

And when he pulled his puppy dog eyes on her, Astairon knew he had her right where he wanted. Y/N could never resist him when his eyes got all soft and round. He could practically see her resolve melting then and there like fresh-fallen snow.

“Alright,” she conceded, and with a passionate kiss against her lips, he pulled her to sit in his lap. “But if it becomes too much, you have to promise to ask me for help.”

“I swear it.” Astarion pecked her lips once more, and though he had no intentions of letting her lift a finger, he was truthful when making such a vow. With Y/N, he’d learned it wasn’t a crime or sign of weakness to request aid.

He left the door open, surely more guests would be arriving, but before he could disappear, two more frames rushed up the steps, his mother and father practically beaming with pride as they saw him.

“I think your druid friend is also on the way,” his mother said, pressing a light kiss to Astarion’s cheek and pulling him in for a hug. “But he stopped to pet a flock of sheep along the way.”

The vampire snorted. “Well, we can only hope Halsin actually arrives for the ceremony on time. Or doesn’t bring the lambs as guests… appetizers though.”

She gave him an amused smile, before squeezing his hand. “I’ll just go and say hello to that wizard of yours. I think I saw him walking somewhere in the gardens and then I’ll be right up with Y/N. Has the sleeping beauty awoken yet?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, frowning. It was a well-known fact his love was a notorious sleepyhead, but that was not his reason for watching with a grimace how his mother practically skipped to the terrace in search of Gale.

“How does she know him?” he directed the question at the male elf standing beside him.

His father sighed, looking at his wife as she disappeared behind the corner, but not before she made sure she looked good, fluffing up her hair in the mirror before the grand entrance to their house. “She’s been quite obsessed with his cookbook. Just be glad she didn’t bring it along for an autograph. But enough of that. You need to get dressed, my Star. The moon is almost nigh.”

All other thoughts vanished from Astarion’s head as he noted how the white orb was pretty much at its peak, and the notion of getting married suddenly became a tangible thing. In just a few hours, under the pale light, he would vow to protect and cherish Y/N, they’d fill one another’s cups and drink, before tying strands of magical gold around one another’s fingers as a symbol of their unity in the ancient elven traditions. Astarion was about to become a husband with Y/N as his wife. If his heart had still beaten, it would’ve been jumping out of his chest.

“Did you feel like this as well when you married Mother?” the vampire’s hand shook as he entered the sowing room he’d claimed as his dressing room for the day. A naked mannequin stood at the corner. It’d born Y/N’s dress which was now surely being slid onto her frame, perfectly fitting against her body, and it was just another reminder of what was to come.

His father closed the door, going over to a suit that was hanging on another mannequin and slipped it off, laying it gently onto a settee. “Like what, Star?”

“Like unless in twenty seconds this whole thing is over, you’ll pass out.”

The deep chuckle the older elf let out was like a reassuring hug, somewhat calming Astarion. “Yes. Very much so. Add onto that wanting to throw up and black spots across my vision, I was pretty much hopeless. But then I was by the altar waiting for your mother, and when she appeared… nothing else mattered. It’s just the waiting that’s horrible.”

“Gods, maybe Y/N was right,” Astarion breathed out, sitting down by his tailoring table, head in his hands. “We should have definitely eloped. I mean it’s not normal to feel this way, is it?”

“Dear Star, it might have taken us two hundred years to find you, and we’ve only been lucky enough to have you back for two, but make no mistake,” his father deadpanned. “Your mother is not above murder and physical restraint if needed.”

“Yes, I know, you kidnapped my bride,” Astarion said. “But, I mean, what if it’s not perfect?” He looked at the elf. Blue reassuring eyes stared back, but even the conviction he saw in them couldn’t quench the lingering fear. “What if she isn’t there? What if I’m left a fool standing by the altar and she does not come?”

Those last words were barely a whisper, shame running through his veins as he said them, but it had been something plaguing his nightmares for weeks on end – Y/N finally realising she deserved so much better and leaving him heartbroken.

When he awoke in a cold sweat and she asked what was wrong, Astarion wrote it off as having a bad dream about Cazador. In truth, he hadn’t dreamt of his master in a long time, his only fear being Y/N tossing him to the side for something better.

“Astarion,” his father said sternly, but not unkindly. “That woman has walked through literal hells for you. And taken on a devil, as you yourself have told us. I highly doubt now would be the moment she gets cold feet.”

Deep down in his heart, he knew the words rang true. Astarion remembered after having killed Cazador, how strongly the urge to Ascend took over. Such power right at the tips of his fingers, yet at the cost of seven thousand souls. But at that moment, he was willing to pay it. He’d never have to be afraid of anything anymore if he finished the ritual. All he needed was for someone to copy the runes on his back. He’d turned to Y/N, someone who he knew supported him, but to his shock, she refused.

Fury took him over. He’d thrown insults so vile it made bile rise in his throat nowadays when thinking back on it. Words wishing her a painful and slow demise, telling her he hoped she died screaming. Astarion had expected her to leave, yet as his mind had cleared, processing the grief and agony he was going through, she was there by his side.

Even though he didn’t deserve it, Y/N held him as he cried, and whispered comforting words when he could do nothing but slump over himself in physical and emotional exhaustion. She was there for him like an unmovable rock, that not even time or tide could erode.

“I’m sorry,” Astarion had begged that night for her forgiveness while she cradled him in her arms. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was – I was blinded by the power. By what I could be, what I could do… I – reality was no longer visible to me. And I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” Y/N’s kiss was a balm to his wounds, especially those that no one else but her could see or soothe. “And I forgive you.”

Astarion’s father put a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of the reminiscing. “She will be there because if there is one thing in this world I don’t doubt, it’s her love for you.”

He wrapped that thought around his heart. She would be there. Y/N would always be there for him. But first, he had to be the one to await her, so with his father’s help, he stood up and got ready.

After a year of getting reacquainted with his parents, he’d told them some of what Cazador had done. With Y/N holding his hand through it, he even felt brave enough to show his scars. There were a lot of tears and hugging, and much to his surprise, talks of resurrecting the vampire lord by his mother, just so she could drive a stake through his heart. And Y/N was very eager to agree.

His love had a vicious glint in her eye, and Astarion had to swallow his arousal as she leaned closer over the table where they’d been drinking afternoon tea and said, “I know how to skin a man and keep him alive the whole time.”

“Yes!” His mother accepted the idea immediately. “Let’s do that! My Star, how do we contact that Withers friend of yours?”

Honestly, the fact that Astarion was the one trying to quench their bloodlust and be the peacekeeper, for a moment, made him think he’d been thrown into some different universe. That was not how he expected the conversation over some tea and biscuits to go.

His father smoothed down the back of the white linen shirt and Astarion tucked it into the white trousers while the older elf helped with the cuffs, onyx squares glinting in the warm light of the candelabras. Looking down, he surveyed the intricate frock he’d slaved over days and nights.

It was matching a ivory to that of Y/N’s dress, the chest decorated with weavings of golden threads, much like what he’d sown across the bodice and through the hemlines of her gown. Astarion smiled, a gentle finger skimming over his work, knowing what the scribbles meant.

To the unknowing, it looked nothing more than a pattern of leaves and flowers, but to those who could read ancient elvish, the truth was laid bare. The idea had struck him late one night as he’d sketched Y/N’s dress. With the help of his parents, as his memory of what once used to be his mother tongue was not so good, he stitched into the fabric little love confessions.

Throughout her wedding attire, he’d sown the words of his undying love, of what she meant to him, and on his own jacket, he’d sown the promises he intended to keep as a husband, to always make sure she was safe and loved.

By the time he was tying the cravat, Astarion’s knees were shaking, and his father had to take over, tucking in the piece of cloth by his chest.

The vampire ran a quivering hand through his white hair. “So?” Gods, even his voice was trembling. How was he supposed to say his vows and not sound like a growing youth whose voice was on the verge of breaking? “How do I look?”

For a moment, his father didn’t say anything, just smoothed down the fabric over his shoulders. “Like a man ready to start the best chapter of his life.”

“Good.” Astarion nodded. “Because now I’m feeling that nausea you talked about.”

The older elf let out a warm laugh before nudging his chin towards the open window and when he looked over, he saw the moon shining bright in the sky, a smattering of millions of stars behind it. “It’s time, Star.”

With a shaky breath, Astarion nodded. He was ready. As long as he remembered how to move his mouth and say words, nothing could go wrong.

As he walked back towards the foyer, gentle music greeted him, meaning the string quartet of bards had arrived and their family and friends were filtering into the ballroom.

It was as if he was floating, barely being able to acknowledge the gathered people. Some patted him on the back, some asked if he was excited, and all of his responses were like through a haze, especially as he took his place by the altar.

Shadowheart was already there, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Don’t you clean up nice.”

Astarion wanted to give some sort of a sarcastic quip, but all he could manage was a hum of acknowledgement. He was really truly, nervous. The breath entering his lungs was shaky and came out the same way. He didn’t even need to breathe, but if he didn’t, he might just pass out.

“If it’s any consolation, Y/N is calm as a cucumber,” the cleric said. “Or maybe she’s just a better actress than you.”

The vampire’s pale brows scrunched, as he looked at the woman. She just shrugged.

“She said she knows you’ll be here. What more is there for her to want or be afraid of?”

And that trust, the belief Y/N had in Astarion, settled something in his heart, and when his parents entered, taking their seats in the front row, both elves beaming, all that fear disappeared like mist in the morning.

Beautiful music swirled around them, and all of the guests stood.

The whole world stopped turning the second he laid his eyes on Y/N.

Her body was clad in the white gown he’d poured all his love and care into, the gold thread shimmering in the candle and moonlight. Her hair was free as she always preferred, but small, intricate braids inlaid with diamonds as if rain had settled atop her head, a flower crown gracing the top of it. Y/N’s skin was also covered in a shimmery powder, that made her absolutely glow, as if from within, and the Y/E/C eyes he loved to get lost in, were lined with kohl giving her gaze an intense look. Had it not been for her rounded ears, Y/N would be the epitome of a true elven queen.

Astarion released a breath that’d gotten stuck in his chest and tears welled in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks.

He’d been lucky, especially in these past few years where he’d been able to witness a lot of beautiful things. But nothing was as beautiful as her walking toward him.

Y/N’s head was high, as her gaze bore into his – his scarlet not looking away from her Y/E/C ones – her lips pulled in the widest smile he’d ever seen on her face.

Gods, she was beautiful, and his ego also revelled in how that grin was directed at him. At only him. It seemed like it took her ages, but at the same time not even a couple of seconds to be standing before him, handing off her bouquet of lilies of the valley to his mother and placing her palms in Astarion’s awaiting ones.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Y/N, but she couldn’t take hers off him. Vaguely he heard Shadowheart offer blessings and words of wisdom for the new couple as they started their joined lives. Astarion only snapped back to reality when it was time for him to take the golden thread and tie it around her finger, an ancient elven tradition – instead of simply exchanging rings, one would take a twine of gold and imbue it with the power of their words, before the vows were sealed.

No longer did his hands shake, and his voice didn’t crack once as he said his vows, as he gently twisted the twine and looped it back around where it moulded together by magic on their own, creating a gorgeous ring.

Then it was Y/N’s turn.

“I vow to protect your life as my own,” her voice was soft and steady as she spoke. “I vow to walk the dark paths and lead you to the light when needed. I promise to be your reassurance when doubts come, and I promise to love you until the stars no longer shine.”

Astarion didn’t care as more tears slid down his cheeks and wetted the neckline of his frock when finally, the golden thread connected and solidified itself on his ringfinger.

He was married. He didn’t care that Shadowheart hadn’t said yet he could kiss his new wife, that they needed to drink the blessed wine from the cups, as he surged forward, taking Y/N by the wrist and smashing their lips together. From somewhere afar he heard whoops and cheers, and a “you could’ve waited for just a second more,” but it was all background noise with no meaning as his love’s palm slid to cup his jaw and pull him in for a deeper kiss.

All the nerves had been worth it. All the pain and suffering he’d gone through – it was all worth it just for that moment alone, when Y/N had to press him back a bit, a breathless laugh escaping her lips as she took in greedy gulps of air, but put her forehead against his, not straying far from his touch.

“I love you, husband.”

His cheeks hurt from so much smiling. “I love you, wife.”

They didn’t get to stay in the small bubble for long as people were stepping up, congratulating them, and pulling them in embraces from left to right.

The revelry slowly moved outside where drinks and food flowed without stopping. Slow melodies turned into fast foot-stomping beats, as people twirled and danced, celebrating the union between two of Baldur’s Gate’s heroes.

It was during a moment of reprieve when Y/N was chugging down glass after glass of water and champagne, Astarion following suit with some blood, when his parents came up to them, a small, yet intricate box in their hands.

The frame was of old oak, no doubt, scuffed at the edges and corners, while the top of it was engraved with a whole flora and fauna piece, but that didn’t matter. He’d said them being at the ceremony would be enough of a gift and that him and Y/N didn’t need anything, yet here the two elves were.

“Don’t even start, my Star,” his mother interrupted Astarion’s rant before he could even go on one. “There was no way we would’ve come empty-handed to your wedding. Besides, we think this might be of great interest to you two. And of use”

Gently, as if the box might crumble if touched any harder, the older elf opened it. Inside, laid on green velvet sat two golden bracelets, their visage moulded like wreaths of leaves and budding flowers.

They were handmade, that was certain, and ancient if his eye for jewels and jewellery didn’t deceive him. And it rarely did. But the oddest bit was the sensation it radiated as if it was imbued by vibrating energy, barely contained in the circlets.

“Could it really be – but no. That is only a legend,” Halsin’s and Gale’s eyes were wide as they beheld what lay in the box as the two had snuck up on the group and shadowed behind them. The druid gave Astarion’s parents a bewildered gaze. “How in the worlds did you come by this?”

“Let’s just say, you are not the only ones with connections.” His father threw Halsin a mischievous smile, but Astarion didn’t like that.

“And the cost for such a thing?”

His mother smiled. “My dear, you talk like your skill of words and stealing didn’t come from somewhere. We might be old, but that doesn’t mean we cannot have adventures of our own.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting this moment,” Gale said, “but can we get back to the fact you have the True Love’s Curse sitting in that box.”

“The what?” Y/N’s brows furrowed, but no one bothered to answer as Gale went on.

“I can feel the magic.” The wizard laid a reverent palm above the bracelets but didn’t touch them. “The Weave… I’ve never felt something so strong. As if it could change the matter of the cosmos around us at any second.”

Astarion lifted a finger, just as confused as his love, pointing at the bracelets. “What exactly is this curse? And, I do apologise, mother, as we appreciate everything you've done for us, but why in the worlds did you think a curse would be a great gift?”

“True Love’s Curse is simply the name,” Halsin said. “It’s an old elven legend of two lovers – one forever meant to walk the dark, the other meant for light. In the myth, they are so convinced they are soulmates and meant to be, they create two bracelets, symbols for their loves, imbued with a mirroring spell, but not just any average enchantment. It gives the nightwalker the ability to walk in the sun, but there is a cost – if the other person is no true love, no soulmate, the nightwalker will succumb to the rays and perish forever.”

Y/N grimaced. “Seems quite harsh. And unfair.”

Astarion’s father closed the box. “It’s why it’s called True Love’s Curse. But if there is anything we all can learn from you two, is that love conquers all.”

Hope ignited in the vampire’s chest, as he accepted the box.

Could there really be a chance he would be able to live his life with Y/N by his side, and also live it in the sun?

He used to be scared of what the future held for him, especially what the future with Y/N would be like. He’d had his doubts – that she probably didn’t actually love him. How she was with him only for pity or to use his body like so many others had before – but those no longer existed. She’d meticulously shattered every single brick of the wall that was his mistrust and built a castle of love in his heart. If what Astarion’s parents said was true, he had nothing to worry about – Y/N had been ready to walk her life in darkness with him and not asked anything in return apart from his devotion.

But he pushed the thoughts of the bracelets, of the True Love’s Curse, to the side as he was pulled in a dance by Dalyria, then her girlfriend, and at some point, even Lae’Zel allowed him to lead her in a slow waltz before once again returning to Y/N’s side. His rightful place

His arms wove around her waist, while her cheek leaned to rest against his chest. She sighed, closing her eyes.

Astarion pressed a kiss to Y/N’s head. “I don’t know what I might have done in a previous life, but whatever it was, it had to be something exceedingly good for me to end up with you.”

She hummed in contentment. “You deserve all that is kind in this world, my love. I am the least of it.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her she was his whole world, but instead, he closed his eyes too and smiled, relishing in the love. He did deserve good. He deserved all that was kind. It was time Astarion finally embraced it, and if that was Y/N in his arms, he would hold on a bit tighter then.

Hours later they stood alone by the cliffside, a slight breeze ruffling their hair as they waited for the sun to fully rise, the gardens empty, their house as well, as the wedding party had ended, leaving people satiated and tipsy on their way home.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Astarion asked. “What if they were wrong?”

“Then I have the cloak right here, and all the shutters have already been closed at the house.” She took his hand in hers, the bracelet clicking against his.

She didn’t try to convince him, give him false hope of how it would work, because not everything in life did. Not everything was perfect and not everything was supposed to be perfect. Of course, he would be devastated, if the True Love’s Curse was not real. But Astarion also knew he’d never be alone in it. He’d have Y/N by his side, as he always had. She wasn’t going anywhere and that was enough.

As the sun rose, the sky turning from a deep blue to pink, then orange and red, Astarion took in a deep breath. Then – on the first day as a married man – the first rays of a new day touched him for the first time in four years.

A tear rolled down his face, scarlet eyes not daring to stray away from the stunning view that was the dawn and greeted the sun like a long-lost friend.

Y/N gave him the widest smile ever, a match to the one she’d sported when seeing him by the altar. “Where to first, my love? We have the whole world for the taking.”

He looked at her, cupping her face. “First, to home. And then – to the very edge of the universe.”

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: I've re-written this whole thing like 3 different times because I just couldn’t get it right, but now I feel like this is how it's meant to be :) I do have like extra 8k words of stuff I might release as smaller fics set around these two specific versions of the characters. Let me know if you'd like that or want to be tagged in future fics :)

I might edit this at some point a bit more. English is not my first language, so I need time to step away, before I can see additional mistakes.

Please don't repost on other platforms without specific written consent! That is called plagiarism

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unicyclehippo · 7 months

Note

release (cr3) for the one word prompt

‘okay. alright,’ imogen says when nana morri gestures for them to go, that all is prepared. no one has stepped into the muck yet. ‘this might be a dumbass idea—‘

‘say it,’ chet encourages, immediately. ‘that’s pretty much the main thing we’ve learned today, right? no bad ideas when they’re just ideas.’

imogen nods, once and then more quickly. ‘right. okay. well, okay. okay. y’all might’ve noticed i took off the circlet—‘ orym nods. so does laudna. the others glance up to where it’s been sitting, which makes sense, being too occupied with their own things to see the tiny change. ‘so. i can look into your minds and then we’ll know who is the doppelgänger.’

silence.

then,

‘it sort of defeats the purpose of the challenge, doesn’t it?’ laudna inquires. ‘you know you’re welcome in my mind any time you wish, darling, but…this is supposed to be about trust, is it not?’

‘i dunno. i’m with mogen. trust is fine when you’re with your pals but if there’s two fuckos in the mix?’ chetney narrows his eyes. ‘bet i could sniff ‘em out. wonder how that works, changing into us. reckon they smell like us? walk like us?’

‘doppelgängers are fucking excellent at what they do. real hard to find.’ ashton scowls at the sidelong looks that earns them. ‘what? i fought one before.’

‘what do they look like cracked open?’ chetney cups a hand around his ear when ashton mumbles something. ‘what was that?’

‘i didn’t get it, okay?’ ashton snaps. ‘it got away. it can look like anyone, of course it fucking got away.’

‘hm. excellent at what they do. got away from you and your hammer… maybe. or maybe you are a doppel and you’re big talking your friends!’ chetney accuses, whipping out a chisel.

‘whoa!’ orym stepped between them, hands outstretched. ‘hold on.’

‘oh, so accusations are a good move but readin’ minds isn’t. got it.’

‘not helping, imogen.’

she lifts her hands in surrender. turns a worried look toward the muck and the altars. they’re wasting time with this. it’d be so easy—read for unfamiliar fey minds, kick out the doubles, grab the sticks.

‘it’s about trust,’ laudna whispers in her ear. she touches a finger to imogen’s wrist as if she doesn’t know - isn’t sure if it’s okay - and some of that is ambient thoughts, imogen thinks, which means it’s gotta be laudna. right? how far did the doubles magic extend? had laudna been thinking about that through both their tests, if it would be wrong to touch her? she grabs laudna’s hand tight. laudna sighs, relieved. ‘it’s about trust,’ she says again. orym nods. ‘what if… we must trust ourselves. our judgement, our instincts. do you remember what it was like to be a group at the start? we didn’t know one another but we had a mutual goal. we trusted one another just enough.’

‘enough to think you guys wouldn’t fuck us over,’ ashton muttered.

‘or you us,’ orym pointed out.

‘point.’

‘so…’ imogen picks up where laudna had left off, giving her hand a squeeze. laudna wraps her other hand tight around her wrist and leans in close, close enough for the floral-rot of her smell to overtake imogen’s senses, lighting her world up pink and bright. ‘uh. we - we can pretend we’re brand new. we need these branches.’

‘i think we can all agree imogen’s herself,’ FCG begins.

‘what! i mean, i am, but -‘

chetney hoots a laugh. ‘you’re blushing over laudna like you’ve never kissed a girl. you have kissed her, right?’

‘yes!’

‘multiple times!’ laudna insists.

‘ooh, multiple,’ chetney teases. ‘sounds sexy.’

sounds like it’s none of your business, imogen says harshly direct into chetney’s mind.

he winces, hand going to his temple. ‘yeah, that’s our imogen. damn! can you chill out? you gotta scream it?’

she narrows her eyes. he flinches, exaggerated, but there’s a smug grin curling his lips up on one side. it feels good to tease and be teased like this. imogen releases a breath she’s been holding onto way too long. rubs her temple.

‘so i’m normal. chet’s normal.’

‘fearne’s been quiet,’ laudna husks in her ear.

fearne’s ears prick up. ‘whoa! ‘scuse you!’

‘well it’s true!’ laudna hunches into herself, uses her grip on imogen’s hand as an anchor, ‘Its true, it is, its true, and none of us would suspect you, she’s your nana, it could be you—’

‘laud.’

‘it could be true,’ laudna says, lip jutting forward.

imogen kisses her. ‘it could be,’ she agrees, voice gentle. ‘but you’re the one who just told us we need to trust.’ she watches laudna blink, then blink again.

‘i did. i- i’m sorry, fearne.’

the faun feigns insult for a moment before she smiles cheekily. ‘that’s alright. i wasn’t listening anyway. i was thinking about trust.’ she eyes each of them, then her nana, and with a very casual sigh and a shrug, steps into the muck.

‘fearne!’

‘we’re not getting anything done hanging out there. orym? wanna get on my back? the mud looks pretty deep.’

orym scrambles up to her shoulders, leaning over her head to peer across the muck. ‘i think i see a path to the first altar. see?’ he points.

fearne hums. ‘i could drown you in the mud pretty easy.’

orym blooms a flower in his hand, tucks it into her hair. ‘please don’t.’

she laughs and walks deeper into the mud, into the test. the mud parts behind her, vague currents pulling through the sludge. it makes sense. there’s such a gravity to fearne. such a pull. did it feel any different? was this still fearne?

trust.

chetney uses ashton’s arm to climb him, keep him lifted out of the mud. he perches on the shoulder of the new arm. laudna eyes the mud warily. it sucks around imogen’s ankles and she knows immediately that FCG and laudna are going to have trouble.

‘ash, wait.’ he flinches when they talk to him now. his mind—she’s not looking but she can’t help but hear—his mind flinches too, scatters like the thunder wasps. flighty, storm front. then reordering to attack. was he afraid her next words would be, stay here? we can’t trust you? kill yourself? ‘can you carry FCG?’

ashton limps to FCG. ‘okay?’

‘sure!’

‘i’ll put you down when you want. you just gotta say.’

‘i know,’ FCG says. ‘i trust you!’

ashton ducks their head. they lift up FCG with a grunt and march into the mud behind fearne, wordlessly following where she leads.

imogen turns. ‘i can make us fly. keep your pretty new dress outta the mud.’ laudna flushes a mottled sort of pink-purple. she nods. her thoughts are syrup sticky-sweet as she meets Imogen’s eyes. ‘i love you.’

laudna smiles. ‘but do you trust me?’ when imogen hesitates, laudna brushes a crooked finger over imogen’s cheek. ‘i don’t think you have since i broke your rock.’

‘i forgave you for that months ago, laud,’

‘yes i know. i know. but there’s a part of you that knows i’m—i’m not me. i’m her.’

‘no—‘

‘yes. and you don’t trust her. you hate her. she disgusts you.’

‘laudna.’

‘it’s fine,’ laudna tells her, so quietly, so sweetly, so sadly. ‘i know. i understand. i feel it myself. but for right now, my love, do you trust that i am myself?’

imogen nods. how can she not? it’s laudna, standing right in front of her. she lets her magic fill her, rise into her skin and out, crackling into her air surrounding her, surrounding them. hooking an arm around laudna’s waist, she lifts them both into the air.

the first and second branches are easy. they’re guarded by traps and quick, muddy creatures they repel and run from, not wanting to harm anything in nana’s realm that can’t be healed.

they’re approaching the third branch when fearne says,

‘i don’t think any of us are doubles.’

ashton pauses. ‘wait. what?’

‘i don’t think any of us—‘

‘we heard you, fearnie,’ imogen says through gritted teeth. she’s trying to run the maths. two doubles. laudna and chet are definitely who they say they are, so is she. so it’s orym and fearne, most likely. right? ‘why do you think that?’

‘it doesn’t make sense! this is supposed to be trust building for all of us. why would any of us sit out?’

‘it’s a trick,’ laudna breathes. ‘a conniving trick. if we are all ourselves—‘

‘but we think two of us aren’t ourselves,’ oryn takes up the train of thought,

‘then we waste time being suspicious of each other instead of just doing what we’re supposed to do.’

‘seems like an apt tie-in to what we hope to do on the moon,’ FCG says, cradled in ashton’s arms. ‘less likely to succeed in our mission if we’re too busy double-checking what everyone else is up to.’

‘fearne,’ imogen breathes. ‘that’s brilliant.’

fearne flips her hair, demurs with a coy smile. ‘of course.’

‘plus, wouldn’t it make us trust each other less if we couldn’t figure it out now and forever more sort of weren’t sure if any of our friends had been replaced?’

‘true, but when you put it that way, that does kinda sound like something nana would do,’ fearne laughs. ‘look out, trap in the mud here.’ orym leans over and drops a white snapdragon blossom where fearne points. ‘okay, third stick, here we go!’

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #cr fic #imodna my beloveds #just random musings after the show #cr spoilers

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ponds-of-ink · 8 months

Text

The Certified Pond Analysis of Scraptrap Voicelines

Because I haven’t talked about this rabbit’s voice lines as much as I should.

Buckle up. This is gonna get wordy.

So, going in the order of this video, we have:

“I always come back!”

The most quoted Afton line. And understandably so. This is the man at his most triumphant, even with his.. questionable suit-repair choices. The emphasis on “always” as well as the moderately louder volume really sells that confident air Springtrap continues to have in FNAF AR. Though, as we’ll soon see, this is not the only emotion he feels as Scraptrap.

(Also, before we continue: This gives me the first point on the “I can hear the smile in his voice” scoreboard. It’s a surprise tool that should help us later.)

”Bittersweet, but fitting”

…And by “later”, I apparently mean now.

There may be a smirk at the end, but it’s not a strong one. The overall line read is much more reserved here. Maybe even somber, if I’m inferring correctly. The choice of words is interesting here too. Whoever’s the owner of the Pizza Sim building, he may not be as fond of jumpscaring them as one would think…

”What a deceptive calling! I knew it was a lie the moment I heard it— Obviously, but it is intriguing nonetheless…”

Ah, yes. The big monologue post-Salvage. Couple of things I noticed here that aren’t debatable lore implications:

(1) Man’s rushing through that second half for some reason. Don’t know if that was an editing error, an intentional line read, or Scraptrap trying to.. reason with himself? Sound smarter than he thinks he is? I dunno, something about the pacing is off here.

(2) Oh, hey, first line with a “snake hiss”! This isn’t a consistent trait with his lines, but it’s a key feature that I use to differentiate Springtrap and Scraptrap during voice impressions.

(3) This man puts so much emphasis on words sometimes. So much so that I can not only hear the smile near the end, but I can also feel the eye roll during “deceptive”. And PJ Heywood never voice acted before FNAF apparently? H u h.

Anyway, moving on before I start implying that Scrap-Trap might’ve been lured in by a newspaper or something…

“Fascinating! What they have become…”

Another point to the “I can hear the smile” board. We’re on three points now; three and a half if you count “Bittersweet”.

This one I’ve already brought up before, but the abridged analysis is: This guy (unlike Glitch-Trap in that one Security Breach trailer) actually compliments his.. uh.. teammates? Workmates? ..Just realized that the relationship dynamic between the Salvage Gang doesn’t have an official term. Bummer.

That aside, it’s genuinely interesting that he doesn’t diss them at all. You think he would given his reputation, but no. He just has this twisted sense of “oh wow they’re so cool”.

…Come to think of it, has he directly dissed somebody in the games specifically? I’m not even sure if the “Deceptive Calling” monologue or the AR Springtrap lines count. AR Springtrap tends to boast about himself more than put the player down and Scraptrap was having an ‘I’m smarter than that lol” moment.

If I’m right, then I think I may have found a proper difference between a pretend Mimic Afton and the real one. Huh.

“How can I resist a promise such as this?”

Getting back to the main topic, we’ve got a return for the snake hiss and the emphasis on certain words. Also, add another point to “I can hear the smile”— Except it’s more of a smug grin than a bizarre, wide-eyed look of wonder.

Not sure what that promise is post-jumpscare, but I do know that this has a chance to play during the office sections. So the promise is either Henry’s lure or seeing his son Mike one last time. I dunno, dude, it’s all vague to me.

”That was easier than I thought it would be…”

AKA The line that makes me wonder “Dude, you good?”

No seriously. The quick halt in-between the second and third word. The sudden choke that happens at the end. Like his voice just properly broke for the first time in ages. The overall somberness of it all. There is literally no smile here and I’ve checked. There may even be tears starting to well up, but I obviously can’t be sure.

It’s even implied that he thought he’d had a tougher time fighting the owner! He actually assumed he wouldn’t win this easily!

Something about this feels.. unnerving. He’s not supposed to sound this upset. At least, not usually. So what, pray tell, is going on with this voice line?? Why was this the take Scott used??

“You may not recognize me at first, but I assure you: It’s still me”

Well, that’s one more point for the “I can hear the smile” board. Also, I believe this is confirmation of that ‘Springtrap switched suits after FNAF 3’ theory? That’s what it sounds like, at least?

But, hey, at least Scrap-Trap is canonically aware of the sudden shift in appearance. Let’s hope his potential FNAF World 2 version isn’t as nervous about it as I assume FNAF 6 him would be… If he had access to the internet, of course.

Also, for the one person who may or may not care about this: He’s using contractions here. I think it’s been established that he only uses these at certain times, but I can’t remember where exactly I read that analysis. Anyway, he’s unafraid about “slipping up” at this point.

One more thing…

Compared to AR Springtrap, Scraptrap is much more.. casual in tone, if that’s the best way to put it. Much more low energy, though his antics are anything but.

Like, yes, he’s still coming for you if you keep letting ads play on your computer. But maybe he’ll let you live for a few seconds longer just so you could turn the ad off? He’s not in a rush, as far as I can tell.

Maybe that’s another reason why my brain jumps to Scraptrap more than Springtrap. If he wasn’t tied to this “attacking the guard” business, he could probably chill for a second and give advice on paperwork. Wouldn’t last for long, of course, but at least one could potentially die knowing that you drank coffee with a much more business-savvy Spring Bonnie… Grungy though he looks. Springtrap, on the other hand, wouldn’t give you the time of day.

TL;DR:

PJ Heywood put more nuance into this guy than even I was expecting. Big round of applause, genuinely.

#william afton #scraptrap #fnaf 6 #overthinking #voice acting #pj heywood

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rattymess · 11 months

Text

sleep doesn't come easy (especially with an indestructible mug)

Genre: Fluff Pairing: Steven Grant x Short!Reader Summary: you just wanted to take your anger out on one of your neighbours in the middle of the night (who just happens to be Steven Grant) Word Count: 900-ish Warnings: Mentions of sex, cursing, mild anxiety (might be more but those are the main ones)

|||||

Honestly, if you have to be frank with yourself, if you could move out of this apartment flat, you would in a heartbeat. No, not even. You would move out right before the question was even popped.

There was just a plethora of issues that came out of living in a flat that certainly had a relatively cheap rent compared to the rest of the buildings around it. For one, there’s that constant dripping sound that you hear out of that one pesky pipe that’s just barely above your reach (and how your landlord just keeps on postponing fixing that), and secondly, there's the giant family of rats that you are sure lives somewhere just beside your fridge (there are definite biscuit crumbs that are littered around there that you’re like..99% sure you didn’t devour). Also, your apartment temperature was always either a bit too cold or a bit too hot for your liking. But mostly, the thin walls were the thing that really ticked you off.

All those issues didn’t even compare to your next-door neighbours. You’ve heard all kinds of sounds in all of your time spent in this flat, ranging from sex noises to screeching babies. But one particular neighbour really takes the cake on this one. Specifically, the one who lives across from you and comes home especially late at night, mumbling incoherent nonsense to himself. You have no idea how that even trumps the moans and groans from your other neighbours but it just…does. Maybe it’s because they’re not exactly quiet when they come home or maybe your patience levels have just reached its limits. You’ve seen him a few times when you’re going off to work, but you’ve never actually taken a good look at them as you’ve always had a tendency to rush out of the building.

Well, that is, until today.

Standing in front of the aforementioned neighbour’s door at 4AM in the morning, clutching your phone one hand, you find yourself loudly pounding on their door. You honestly don’t remember what had even led you here. You just remember waking up from your restless sleep by a loud smash and wanting to scream your heart out at someone. Honestly, you’re not even sure if the noise even came from the guy across the hall. It might’ve been from the couple down to the right of the hall that accidentally broke a vase or something while they were doing their daily midnight…shenanigans. But before you can second guess your late-night decisions even more, a small click resonates from the other side of the door.

“H-Hiya love.” A man with giant doe-eyes that looked like he hadn’t slept in days and a slight pout glances down at you, looking like a young dishevelled schoolboy who knows that he’s about to be lectured. “Did I wake ya? I’m awfully sorry about that. I just came home you see, and my bloody arm accidentally knocked over my favourite mug. It’s still intact but still, I’m bloody sor– ”

You didn’t hear any of that. While the man was still spouting on about his mistake, you begin to feel your blood suddenly flow to your face. Your eyes trail down from the man’s messy dark curls (is it weird to imagine dragging your fingers through each strand?) to his bewildered wondering eyes that seemed to slowly trail down to the ground in shame, to his soft, breathless lips that finally seemed to stop moving. Oh. You abruptly look up, your anger quickly disbanding into anxiety. He’s so pretty.

“–I-I’m Steven, by the way. Steven Grant.”

The mention of his name brings you out of your thought train. Shit. Say something. ANYTHING.

“H-Hhhi Steven…” You wheeze out. FUCK. You’re suddenly more aware of your surroundings than ever. Sleep is now fully dispersed from your mind as your eyes fully gauge out what you’re actually doing. Looking down between you and Steven, your eyes widen as you realize that you’re wearing the most embarrassing outfit choice of your life: a pastel pink Barbie tank top alongside your hot pink sweatpants that read “Justin Beeb 4 Ever” that you bought as a joke and never thought you’d ever be seen outside with. FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK. I mean, hey, at least you didn’t bring your stuffed teddy—nope, it was just in your other hand. You groan into your bear, quickly alarming Steven.

“Hey, love? Y-You alright?” He stutters, not knowing what to do. “Do you want to come in?”

You gradually raise your head from the bear to the man in front of you. This man...this man is an angel.

“I…I’m terribly sorry. I’m so embarrassed,” you anxiously say. “I couldn’t dare impose on you. I don’t even know what came over me. I just wanted to complain about the noise. I’m sorry. I..I’m just gonna go.” As you turn around and back towards your door, Steven grabs your hand into his. You swerve your head back up to meet his mesmerizing dark eyes. Huh?

“No, love. I clearly disturbed you. Look, I’ll let you go back to your flat but please don’t hesitate ever comin’ to my door to knock some sense into me, yea?” Steven sweetly smiles at you before letting go of your now-shaking hands. If you weren’t flustered before, you certainly are now. Clearing away the lump that has now formed in your throat, you whisper, “I...actually do wanna come in.”

Steven grins. “Well…come in then, love.”

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight fanfic #i still have no idea what im doing

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archiveikemen · 4 months

Text

Minamoto no Yoshitsune Main Story: Chapter 10

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

Yoshitsune deflects the man’s short sword and points his sword at the man’s throat.

Yoshitsune: So you’re the culprit.

Man: Ggh…

Yoshitsune asked in a tone devoid of emotion. The man only groaned in response.

Yoshitsune: I take your silence as you’re admitting to the deed.

(His gaze was so warm just a moment ago…)

The icy atmosphere surrounding Yoshitsune left me at a loss for words.

Yoichi: Well done.

Yoichi: Lord Yoshitsune didn't have to deal with him personally, though.

Yoshitsune: He’s a guest of mine, of course I should be the one to entertain him.

Yoichi: Oh well, glad I could avoid doing any work.

Kurama: As expected from the person who commited that cowardly poisoning attempt, you're only a small-fry. Boring.

I interjected without thinking.

Yuno: W-Wait, so that means… this man is…

Yoichi: Yeah, this is the useless assassin who tried to poison Lord Yoshitsune.

Man: …(silence)

Yoichi continued, keeping his eyes on the man.

Yoichi: I’m quite surprised that he’d show up at our feast, though.

Yoshitsune: Our investigation already told us who the culprit was.

Yoshitsune: This man likely realised that he had been exposed, and so he gave up on trying to hide.

Kurama: Only idiots like you would fail to notice something so obvious.

Yuno: T-This isn’t something I can figure out just by observation alone.

(Everyone was just happily chatting with one another…)

Kurama: Yoshitsune, what do you want to do with this man?

His expression unchanged, Yoshitsune stared down at the man.

Yoshitsune: We already know your identity and who you’re taking orders from.

Yoshitsune: You’re a subordinate of a samurai who intends to present my head to the Shogunate, in exchange for a position amongst them.

(Present his head to the Shogunate…)

Yuno: This has nothing to do with Lord Yoritomo and the others, right…?

Yoichi: Correct.

Yoichi: By the way, this man is the one who spread rumours about you having medicinal tools in your possession.

Yoichi: That samurai most likely knew that you’re an apothecary, and planned to use you as a distraction for the actual crime.

Yuno: I see…

(Word must’ve gotten out because I’ve been given a few opportunities to make medicine for many people back in Kamakura…)

Yoshitsune: However… he didn't do a good job in terms of executing his plan.

The man’s face turned pale the instant Yoshitsune tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

Yoshitsune: The hunter must be prepared to be hunted.

Yoshitsune: Are you?

Man: *inhales sharply*......

The sword grazed on the skin of the trembling man’s neck ever so slightly.

(Yoshitsune is going to kill him…)

The trembling man wore a look of hopelessness on his face, his breath caught in his throat.

Yoshitsune: …

Yoshitsune narrowed his eyes sharply…

(H-He’s going to—)

I braced myself to witness him take the man’s life, and that was when—

Yoshitsune: …

(Huh…?)

Yoshitsune withdrew his sword and sheathed it.

Yoshitsune: To prison.

Yoichi arrested the man without a moment's delay.

I watched his efficient series of actions, dumbfounded.

(What does he mean by this? I thought he was going to…)

Kurama voiced out, expressing the same doubts I had.

Kurama: You’re not going to kill him?

Yoshitsune: That’ll dirty the cups Yoichi made.

Yoichi glanced at the cups Yoshitsue was looking at, and shrugged nonchalantly.

Yoichi: Thanks for that.

(... Yoshitsune might’ve really killed that man if it weren’t for the cups.)

That was the impression the air around Yoshitsune gave me.

Kurama: Lass, what are you daydreaming about?

Yuno: Oh…

Kurama’s question snapped me back to my senses.

I unclenched my fists to reveal faint nail marks on my palms.

Yuno: I never expected to encounter someone trying to kill Lord Yoshitsune…

Kurama: Foolish. This man is destined to live and thrive in battle.

Kurama: His soul shines the brightest when he's wielding a sword and facing his true nature.

Kurama: Having his life constantly on the line suits Yoshitsune.

Yuno: A-Aren't you being too much…

(That just means there isn’t a single place where Yoshitsune can truly let his guard down.)

I responded while looking straight into Kurama’s red eyes. He scoffed in response.

Kurama: Too much?

I understood that as a warrior and especially a military general, it’s expected that Yoshitsune’s life would always be threatened and he’d have to deal with the source of the threats.

(But… he’s so calm and collected when he’s being attacked, or when he has his sword pointed at someone.)

(If I were in his position, I doubt I’d be able to do the same.)

There was an invisible wall between me and Yoshitsune.

(Just as I thought, trying to understand Yoshitsune is tough.)

Yoshitsune: The feast is over.

Yoshitsune: Yuno, I apologise for letting you witness such an uncomfortable situation. Return to your room and rest.

Yuno: … Yes. I’ll take my leave.

I nodded and left the hall with heavy footsteps.

…

(I can't seem to fall asleep…)

I tossed and turned on the shitone* countless times.

* Shitone refers to the bedding used by nobles during the Heian period. Kind of like a sleeping mat, similar to the one shown in the illustration in this scene. More information here.

(I guess it might be because of what happened earlier…)

I couldn’t help but recall the scene from just now the moment I closed my eyes.

(Having your life constantly being targeted while you rise as the commanding general of the Rebel Army — I can’t imagine that being a reality.)

(And yet, that’s like any other day for Yoshitsune.)

Yuno: … I just made my mind even more awake.

I slowly sat up on the shitone.

(Maybe I’ll go outside for some fresh air.)

…

(This feels good…)

I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh night air.

The garden was one of the places I was allowed to enter.

I gently closed my eyes, feeling the gentle breeze on my cheek, that was when…

(Hm? This sound…)

I heard the sound of music coming from somewhere.

Likely due to the silence of the night, the beautiful melody carried a tinge of sadness.

(... Let’s look for where it's coming from.)

I started slowly walking in the direction of the sound.

I felt that I might spoil the soft melody if I walked too quickly.

Yoshitsune: …

(Ah.)

Leaning against a tree in the back of the garden, I spotted Yoshitsune playing the flute.

(Beautiful…)

I was captivated by the sight of his figure illuminated by the pale moonlight.

I stood there mesmerised, when…

Yoshitsune: Are you having trouble sleeping too?

Yoshitsune stopped playing and turned his gaze towards me.

Yuno: Yes… sorry for interrupting you.

Yoshitsune: Don’t worry about it:

Yoshitsune: I can leave if you want to be alone.

Yuno: Would you mind if you talked for a little? I doubt I’ll be able to sleep if I go back to my room like this…

Yuno: Of course, only if it’s alright with you, Lord Yoshitsune…

Yoshitsune: It's fine.

Yoshitsune: I… I wanted to talk to you too.

(I- I see…)

His casual response made my heart flutter.

Yoshitsune walked up to me and we sat together on the veranda.

Yuno: Um, that tune was beautiful.

Yoshitsune: Thanks. It’s been a hobby since I was a child.

Yuno: Wow…! It’s wonderful that you're still playing it till now.

Yoshitsune: It’s nothing really great. I just play it on a whim from time to time.

Yoshitsune: I don’t have many listeners, apart from birds and animals.

Yuno: Oh…!

When I took a closer look at the tree Yoshitsune was playing at, I noticed many birds perched on its branches and looked interested in us.

(...! That’s not all. There are rabbits peeking out from the grass too.)

Yuno: Even the animals that don’t usually come out at night are gathered here…

Yoshitsune: There are fewer animals than usual tonight.

Yuno: Do you mean that there usually are more animals gathered?

Yoshitsune nodded when I asked in surprise.

Yoshitsune: For some reason, they’ll always gather here whenever I play the flute. It’s been like this for a long time.

(So that's how it is.)

Yuno: That’s nice…! You’re very loved by animals, Lord Yoshitsune.

Yoshitsune: I suppose that’s because they like the sound of the flute.

(Really…? I kind of think that it’s because Yoshitsune is the one playing the flute, though.)

Yuno: Um, do you mind playing another tune? I’d like to hear it.

Yoshitsune: Then…

Yoshitsune held up the flute and started playing again.

(... He’s very good at playing the flute, and yet the tune still sounds so melancholic as expected.)

For some reason, an emotion that felt a little like sorrow slowly filled my chest.

— I suddenly recalled Yoshitsune's facial expression when we met at the festival in Kamakura.

(If I’m not mistaken, it was when I met that little boy who was searching for his missing brother…)

– Flashback Start –

Yoshitsune: No younger brother will ever hate his older brother this easily.

Boy: Really…?

Yoshitsune: Yeah.

Yoshitsune: But it’d be better if the two of you start getting along well from now on.

Yoshitsune: — People won’t walk on the same path forever.

– Flashback End –

(... I’ve never seen someone look so sad before.)

Back then, even though Yoshitsune’s facial expression didn't change, there was an enigmatic cold flame flickering silently in his eyes.

(The emotions this man is hiding deep within himself… must surely be more than what an ordinary person can fathom.)

(Having seen both his gentle and ruthless sides, I’ve always wondered which was the real him…)

Now that I’ve heard him play the flute, I think I understand.

(Yoshitsune is too pure, so the emotions he’s bottling up inside him are too intense…and perhaps because he’s keeping them hidden, they turn into a huge roaring flame the moment they show themselves.)

(— Both sides of Yoshitsune are him.)

Yoshitsune suddenly stopped playing midway through the tune.

Yoshitsune: …

Yuno: Is something wrong…?

I followed his gaze and…

Yuno: W- What is that…

My breath hitched in my throat when I saw a black shadow crawling on the ground.

Yoshitsune: That’s rare. Even at night, it’s unusual for any ayakashi apart from Kurama to appear in the mansion.

Yuno: An ayakashi…

I felt the night grow darker, and my skin got goosebumps.

(I’m scared…)

An instinctive feeling of revulsion washed over me, sending a shiver down my spine.

Yoshitsune: It’s a low-grade ayakashi with no form or consciousness.

Yuno: S- Shouldn’t we run away or something?

Yoshitsune: It’s nothing concerning.

I asked despite my fear, to which Yoshitsune nodded in response.

Yoshitsune: Because both of us have formed pacts with two ayakashi powerful enough to be called “great yōkai”.

Yoshitsune: These weak ayakashi can smell the strong powers in our souls, so they won't try to cause trouble for us.

Yoshitsune: Leave it alone for a while and it’ll leave on its own.

Yuno: I- I see…

(I’m glad I wasn’t attacked, though…)

Unable to let my guard down, I kept staring at the ayakashi.

Yoshitsune: Is this your first time seeing something like that?

Yuno: … Yes. I’ve never encountered any ayakashi other than Tamamo and Kurama.

Yoshitsune: Ayakashi generally refrain from appearing in front of people. Most of them go through their entire life spans without ever being seen.

Yoshitsune: If you’ve ever sensed their presence, it might be because Tamamo’s powers let you see ayakashi.

(I see…)

The black shadow on the ground crawled closer towards us as we spoke.

Yuno: Ahh…

(... I need to calm down. Yoshitsune just said that it can’t do me any harm.)

(Besides, I have my fox powers. I can handle a fight if I need to.)

I knew that, and yet I couldn't stop myself from trembling in fear.

Yoshitsune: — Are you afraid?

Yuno: … A little.

When Yoshitsune leaned in to examine my facial expression, I told him the truth.

Yoshitsune: I see. … Then you should come closer.

(Wha…)

Yoshitsune pulled me closer — and gently put his hand around my shoulder.

The space between us closed up, making my heart race at the sudden warmth of the physical contact.

Yoshitsune: We’ll stay like this until the ayakashi leaves.

#ikemen genjiden #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikegen main story #yoshitsune main story

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getawayheaven · 9 months

Note

Hi.. good morning!!!

I’ve been observing Louis for a year now and kind of caught up with all his videos from 1D days… one thing that I kind of feel bad is how self conscious he is all the time.. probably people must’ve put so much pressure on him or in general made offensive or off-hand comments considering how rude and blatant show biz is and made him think he has to be certain way..

Seeing his pictures yesterday made me very happy.. He really is golden( its possible that H might’ve written the song about himself) but it resonates with Louis at many levels..

https://x.com/louiestream/status/1711339772508094948?s=46

Hello!! It's good evening for me!!

You are absolutely right. Louis was kind of very closed off during 1D days. He looked carefree in the initial years. But his confidence went very low after everything he went through. One of the main reasons was not getting enough lines to sing. Which made him feel insecure as a singer and as an artist. It made him feel like he doesn't belong on stage. But having the main chorus in No Control really gave his confidence a big boost at the end and we witnessed it.

I'm glad we have Louis singing his heart out on stage now. His melodious voice filling every word with love and warmth. I'm so happy that I don't have to wait for his lines now. Look at him 😍😍

He's confident, he knows he look and sounds great. I hope he keeps smiling like this forever.

#ask

0 notes

admiringlove · 3 years

Text

hurtful things

+synopsis: genshin boys and the hurtful things they said.

+genre: angst; headcanons.

+characters: kaeya; diluc; childe; zhongli.

+warnings: swearing; crying; implied panic attack.

+order: hey bubs! i saw you doing requests and i HAD to ask for genshin angst :) spare me some tears pls <//3 preferably w kaeya or diluc or childe :) [submitted by @crackheadsara]

+author’s note: okay so i included zhongli bc he’s the love of my life, also i needed comfort from him after writing such hurtful things :D

+navigation: main menu, genshin menu.

— KAEYA.

“i’m better off without you.”

you know from the way your door was knocked in the middle of the night on a weekday after months, that it’s kaeya. you rub your eyes sleepily, trudging towards the door as anger and doubt fuse into a nasty green in your mind.

you unlock the door, pulling it open to see the man with the eyepatch tapping his foot on the deck of your home impatiently. he smirks when his eye lands on you, attempting to walk in but stopping himself when he realizes you're standing at the door, unmoving.

"kaeya, it's three in the morning. and it's monday. i have to report to jean in three hours," you mumble tiredly as you look up at him. the lamp grass by your windowsill outside and the moonlit night accentuated his cerulean eyes and contrasting coffee-colored skin. he frowns, peering down at you as he asks, "may i come in?"

you shrug, opening the door wide as you let the man in. he places his sword on the table and proceeds to walk into the bedroom when you ask, "where have you been for the past two weeks?"

"work," his reply is the same. you let out a sigh in impatience as you retort, "that's the same excuse as always."

he was tired and wanted to sleep off the fatigue from his latest mission. but when he hears you say that, something in him snaps and he turns around, his jaw clenched and a fixed glare making you a little agitated. he raises an eyebrow as he says, "well, unlike you, i am an actual important member of the knights of favonius."

"kaeya, all i meant was that you're always gone. you never write a letter back even if i send you one, and you somehow manage to come back every single time, expecting that it doesn't hurt me. what am i supposed to do?" your voice is small as you look down, hair drooping towards the ground. you're not even yelling at him, you're just worried. he always leaves you alone(sometimes you tag along, but you couldn't tell why nowadays he'd leave you alone without some sort of warning).

"does it ever occur to you that you're just a hindrance?" he bites back, thinking that you're trying to put up a front. you flinch at his words, causing him to force a jeer before he starts again, "you always come along, so maybe i wanted to be away from you for a bit. that's why i leave without a warning so i don't have to tend to your yapping all day. because i'm better off without you."

you gasp as you look up to his figure, now retreating to your shared bedroom. you hear him fall onto the bed with a content sigh as you stand there, wiping at your tears incessantly as hiccups escape your lips. you bit your tongue to stop yourself from crying, pressing a hand on your mouth to muffle the sounds so you don't disturb kaeya. you get a quick peek in, eyes widening when you see him sound asleep and tucked in.

so that's how it was, you think.

the next morning, kaeya wakes up to a cold bed as his arm reaches out to an empty space. his eyes immediately pry open as he wakes up, to see that you weren't here.

ah, he ponders to himself, you must've gone to tend to your duties.

he stretches, letting out a yawn before walking out to the kitchen. he smiles when he sees a plate of food left for him on the countertop with a note from you. but somehow, something felt very wrong about this whole ordeal. this had happened before—he had come back from insanely long missions to you before, so what felt different?

and then it hits him. the things he said last night. he frantically looks around, his azure eyes completely drowned in horror as he notices small changes in your shared household. a few picture frames are missing on the living room walls, your keychain isn't on the bookshelf anymore, and worst of all, when he runs into the closet, half of your clothes are gone.

did you really feel that bad about what he said?

in panic, he runs out and keeps going till he reaches the headquarters of the knights. he barges in this time, not returning the greetings of the guards upfront as he walks into jean's office.

"where are they?" he pants, "i-i messed up, do you know where they are?"

jean's eyes widen as she says, "our associates were having a hard time handling with the fatui in liyue harbor so they volunteered to go there for sometime."

"how long has it been?"

"they left long ago, it's about to be around ten hours since," she says. kaeya's heart shatters as he hears those words. he hadn't expected you to outright leave like that, but if you had said the same things to him, he definitely would've stormed out. his voice cracks as he looks at the ground in shame, "h-how long until they'll be back?"

"i.. don't know."

he regrets everything he's said. he truly does because he doesn't even notice that tears are streaming down his cheeks until jean comes to his aid. he hates himself for all of it—he hates that he has to live in a home where traces of you are visible everywhere; worst of all, he hates how he knows he lost you for good. even if you come back, he knows you wouldn’t run and melt into his arms like you did before. you’re gone now, fading into the darkness and away from him.

maybe it was for the best.

— DILUC.

“you’re nothing but a burden.”

after taking on a few abyss mages and mitachurls, diluc lets a grunt out in pain before you see the slash on his right arm. you gasp, pulling him to the side of the lake as you pull out a bandage and cotton from your bag to clean his wounds. he's reluctant to it at first, but he sits there quietly and broods as you clean the blood with cotton and some type of healing ointment.

you tie the bandage on his arm, a tiny bit of vermillion liquid seeping through the white cloth before sitting down next to him, finally catching a breath. sighing, you look up at him and say, "that was reckless."

"no, what you did was reckless. who told you to come along with me to dadaupa gorge? you knew what you were getting into when you came along, so don't put this on me," he grumbled, frowning as you look at him with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. you are sort of hurt, but you know he's only saying this in faux indignation, so it's okay. you chuckle out, beginning, "diluc, i was-"

"i don't know why i even bother with you at this point," he exasperates, looking into the distance behind you. he curses slightly under his breath, his rouge eyes filled to the brim with anger as it finally overflows, "you're nothing but a burden."

your eyes suddenly flick to gape at him in disbelief. you stand up, your voice hitching in your throat as you ask, "diluc, you mean that?"

and it all simmers down into ashes when he mumbles "of course i do" under his breath. your vision is blurry as you walk away from the red-haired man, your body trembling as you almost give away that you're crying your eyes out. you walk back in the direction the two of you came from, leaving your broken heart in the hands of diluc, who sat by the lake not muttering a word after.

he knows he's said things he doesn't mean; he does that all the time, but you probably knew that. he figures you're leaving to catch a breath of fresh air—to be away from the tension-filled environment for a bit, you had a habit of doing that at home. he sighs as he ponders over his words for a bit. he knew it was wrong to display such harshness to you, but you probably knew he didn't mean anything by it. he always bubbled over rash things when he was frustrated.

the sun sets in front of him, painting hues of aubergine and peach as it flows down. he wonders where you are, getting up from his spot by the lake to venture towards the path you walked off.

only when he can't find you, is when he thinks that you might've actually taken offense to his words. although he cares about you sincerely, he finishes his mission first, getting a lead on the abyss order—because protecting monstadt was his first priority. you lingered in his mind every second of every day till he finally got back home. and when he didn't find you there, he asks adelinde about it, who only shakes her head and tells him, "i'm sorry, master diluc, but i haven't seen them come back. i thought they were with you."

it all pieces together in his mind now, how a small gasp had escaped your lips when he had called you a burden. the way you nodded begrudgingly, getting up and walking away from his presence as your shoulders trembled. the way he could hear you choke back a sob, but still ignored it, thinking you had overreacted in the situation.

he searches the whole city for you. he searches every nook and corner, and even walks into the headquarters of the knights of favonius(he ignores kaeya's teases instead of biting back this time). and when he finally sees you, he holds himself back. his hand is suspended awkwardly in the air as he reaches out for you, your back turned towards him.

maybe this was better—maybe it was a good thing that you had walked away from him. this way, the abyss order won't be able to harm you. this way, he won't be able to harm you. this way, you'll be safe and sound, away from the storm known as diluc ragnvindr.

— CHILDE.

“it’s not like you mean anything to me.”

it's not often you see childe. he's always in liyue, and you're here, stuck in monstadt or snezhnaya. it's cold today(as it always is) in snezhnaya, the snow covered almost everything outside as you looked out of your window, sipping on hot coffee as you sigh at the wilting roses on the sill. they'd wilted when you had gone to monstadt and you didn't have the heart to plant new ones.

just thinking about the blue-eyed childish man would make your heart bloom and cheeks flustered. you longed to spend more time with him, really. if only he wasn't affiliated with the fatui, he'd be able to spend more time with you. it had been months since you had seen him, and you longed to be in his arms once again, but who knows when that'll happen again? whenever he comes home, he chooses to spend a night with you and then head back. he'd laugh alongside you, tell you about his adventures, and give small reactions when you told him about yours. and the next morning, you'd wake up to an empty bed with a small note by the table, saying how he has to leave for work.

a knock at your door snaps you out of your entranced state. as you open the lock and look out, you see childe, standing there with a tired grin and disheveled hair as he walks in without a word. he hands you a small paper bag, saying, "i brought you back something from liyue this time."

the same excuse, you think. it's always the same. he brings back small mementos and souvenirs as a pretense for staying, and by the time you think you can forgive him, he's gone. he plops down onto the sofa, stretching his arm out so you could join him. the thought of confronting him crosses your mind, but you shake it off—since he had only just gotten back.

the night is the same as always. talking about each others' adventures, eating dinner by the fireplace, laughing alongside one another until you hit the bed. it's quiet now as you watch over his sleeping figure, his lapis-colored eyes now hidden. you sigh as you lay there for hours on end, twiddling with his brown hair as you wait for him to wake up(so this time you can actually say goodbye).

when his eyes flutter open, he's a little taken aback when he looks over at you to see you wide awake. his brows furrow just a smidge as he says, "you're up."

"well, i wanted to say goodbye this time," you chuckle dryly, "you always leave without waking me up."

"i don't like the way you said that," he says, getting up from his position on the bed. you look away from him, your eyes displaying hurt as you murmur, "i don't like the way you leave."

"well, it's my job. it's not like i'm an adventurer like you, wasting my time around. i'm a harbinger and i have responsibilities," he says. his voice is neither too soft and nor too prickly, and you can tell that he's a little worked up by the way he lightly nips on the skin of his bottom lip as his gaze bores into you.

"i didn't say you don't. all i said was that you could maybe sometimes stay for more than one night. it feels like you're using me, and when you're bored, you leave."

"oh?" he cocks an eyebrow as he stands up, "i'm using you, huh?"

you grimace at the tone of his voice, and when you look at him, you notice the sheer annoyance he puts up towards you. your voice is small when you ask him if he loves you—because you don't know anymore. seeing him once in a few months for the past few years has sure hurt you more than anything, and if you don't tell him now, then you might never get a chance.

"what if i say i don't?" he smirks, walking up to you, "it's not like you mean anything to me. what if i agree that i am using you to make myself happy until i'm bored, so i can then throw you away?"

he doesn't like what he's saying either. his mind is screaming at him to stop, but he's worked up. he's irritated by the way you jabbed at him first thing in the morning, even though he knows you're right. his heart almost stops when he looks at the expression on your face after he says those words, and as he reaches out his hand for you, you turn away.

your voice cracks, and he's sure his heart did as well when you mumble, "i-i'd like you to leave, please."

"wait, i didn't mean-"

"tartaglia," your eyes look into his, perhaps for the last time, as you give him a sad smile, "you don't have to come back to me anymore."

it hurts him as he leaves your home that morning. it hurts him when he comes back months later to see that your home is now empty. it hurts him because he tarnished the you that was once his.

it hurts him, but he thinks it's for the best if you stay away from him if all he does is bring you pain.

— ZHONGLI.

“i’d like you to leave me alone.”

zhongli was never one to pick fights. he was peaceful; his thoughts were positive(most of the time), and he almost always preferred to talk about his problem rather than fighting about it—he believes that fighting will only bring pain, so why not confide in one another about our problems instead?

he's quiet. he's not shy(it's quite the opposite, actually), but he's one to prefer to only talk when absolutely necessary. he's the type to listen rather than speak, saying something like, "we have two ears and one mouth. speak less than you listen."

he smiles when his mind goes back to the time when he said that to you while having a cup of tea together, and you'd replied, "my mother used to tell me that when i was a child."

because it's true; every child in liyue harbor has heard those words at least once in their lives. the quality of listening is appreciated more than the quality of speaking—and zhongli, for one, was a listener.

you, on the other hand, were a speaker. you always woke him up every morning with a smile as bright and everlasting as the sun, babbling about breakfast and tea as he got up from the bed. you were the one that carried conversations on your shoulders on morning walks, you were the one that intertwined your fingers with his as the two of you walked amongst flowers, adoring them as you talked about the contrasting colors of silk flowers and glaze lilies. he loved you for that. he loved you because you were a speaker. he loved you because you were a perfect balance, the only one who could soften his hardened heart. the only one whom he'd chosen to wake up next to in the mornings, the only one whom he'd let ruffle his hair without asking(because he secretly liked it).

so why had he reversed the roles tonight? why was he the one to bubble out his frustrations to you, speaking in a cold and stern manner instead of the loving tone that was only reserved for you? why was he the one to speak tonight, and why were you the one to listen?

it's not like he was actually frustrated—he was only thinking about something else as you asked him what he wanted for dinner. it surely wasn't your fault when he had poured over turbulent words to you. and he knows that the ones that hurt the most probably were, "i'd like you to leave me alone."

he looks up at the stars, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he walks back into his shared home with you. he looks around, and when there's no sign of you, he feels himself break apart even more.

had you actually left? he wants to run to you and tell you he hadn't meant any of those words because he hadn't. he wants to touch you, to caress you, to please you, to make you smile—and he wants to admit he was wrong. he wants to make it right, but he doesn't know where you are.

he walks into the empty bedroom, sitting on the cold mattress as his eyes sting. he doesn't understand what's happening, or why there are small drops of water falling from his eyes. he doesn't understand why everything feels heavy all of a sudden—his heart, his throat his lungs, everything. he doesn't understand why he feels like he's trapped in a box, and the water seems to be filling up more quickly than he'd prefer. he wants to reach for air, but he can't.

he couldn't breathe without you.

he hears the door close and immediately gets up in haste to walk to the living room where he sees you take off your boots. you turn around to see him, his disheveled hair and frantic eyes finally calming as he walks over to you and engulfs you in a warm embrace. his throat cleared up, and so did his heart and lungs as he mumbles against your ear, "i'm so sorry."

you smile smally, looking up at him as you cup his cheeks and wipe a stray tear, and mutter, "it's okay, zhongli. stress gets to the best of us."

god, how he loves you. he places a small peck on the top of your forehead as he feels his lips turn upward at your touch and the scent of glaze lilies lingering over you tells him that you'd been to the flower garden. he sleeps with your fingers weaved with his that night and pulls you even closer if you untangle with him in sleep.

he makes a promise to himself saying he'd never hurt you like that again, and he keeps it.

2K notes · View notes

finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

Just wanted to say 2 things:

1)Love the fic where he proposed over a cup of tea…so sweet💗

2) we all know how H has asthma sometimes so…could u write something w/the reader helping him with an attack idk or during an interview/concert/family gathering do as u pls

A nice day

XOXO

firstly, thank you so much that’s so sweet of you <33 and secondly, um yes i would love to give this a go at writing for you! hope you enjoy;

Harry couldn’t breathe.

He was in a panic, completely terrified of the uncontrollable situation. He was having an asthma attack concocted with a panic attack and it was brutal.

“Shit,” Jeff whispered as he watched Harry breathe heavily and loudly on the floor. His friend was currently on his hands and knees trying to gasp for air, whilst dressed in his notorious Fine Line outfit.

It was the big night. The one night only at The Forum for the release of his new album Fine Line, hence the costume. He had been nervous all day, with shaking hands and a tendency to forget simple things. You had been with him all day; having a slow brunch together out in the Hollywood Hills and then just chilling around for the afternoon. You didn’t want to anything to strain his voice, so talking hadn’t been an option. That left you either to sleeping and cuddling, whilst watching a movie, or sex. Now you were all for sex, but Harry complained that he liked talking to you during it and so that got shut down pretty quickly. You didn’t forget what he whispered to your ear though just before you cuddled into watching Bambi;

“Keep your moans for later, you’ll be fucking needing them for what I have planned.”

But that was over two hours ago now. Harry had been whisked away to start getting ready, what with hair and makeup first. You’d left him to it, telling him you would just lounge around and wait for him. It was when he was getting into costume had you announced you were just going to go down the street to get some coffee from Dunkin’ - seeing as there were few of them back in England, where you most commonly lived with Harry. The problem was you hadn’t come back yet, and it was an hour later.

“Harry mate, you need to calm down.” Kid Harpoon told him carefully, kneeling down next to his good friend. Nothing was working though and Harry was too breathless to ask anyone for his inhaler.

It had started by thinking about how nervous he actually was for tonight. It was such a huge show and one of a kind too. He was playing his new album and it wasn’t even 24 hours old yet. There was so much pressure weighing him down that he couldn’t breathe - he was suffocating in the anxiety of his own mind and he couldn’t escape at all. Then because he was in so much of a panic his asthma hit him and added another reason to his breathlessness. It was finally made worst when he realised you weren’t by his side to help him. You weren’t there to quickly eliminate the asthma and focus on helping him overcome the panic attack, instead he had his mates surrounding him - crowding him - and they didn’t know the first thing to do.

“Sarah, where’s Y/N?” Mitch shouted, making Harry squint the thought away. He didn’t want to think about how something back might’ve happened or might be happening to you. Where were you? Sarah’s response did no better to help him.

“I don’t know.”

“Harry bud. Talk to us.” Jeff spoke, crouched down in front of him. Harry shook his head, tears running from his eyes as he began crying. The sobs were really harsh and embarrassing. The tears were heavy and mixed with snot running from his nose to pool on the floor below him. He was not doing well at all, coughing when the asthma choked him up. He couldn’t do this. He felt like he was in a small box and it was only getting smaller. He felt as if he were going to die. Genuinely.

“Does he look like he can talk, dickward.” Adam’s voice came from the other side of Harry, messing his head up even more. There was so many voices and he couldn’t focus on just one, but he didn’t want to. He wanted yours. He needed yours. You.

Whenever this has happened before he was always luckily in the comfort of his home, or the tour bus and always with you. So this was unfamiliar and terrifying. He was beginning to think you’d left him or you’d gotten seriously hurt, but he couldn’t do anything to help. He was stuck - paralysed to this position as his lungs collapsed in on themselves and his brain sped the same speed as a train. You were his comfort person and it was only ever you that he wanted in situations like these. Just you.

“Move out of my way. Move!” Harry thought he heard you and your voice, but he hated that his mind could be playing tricks on him in desperation for what, or whom, he truly wanted.

He felt someone crash on the floor in front of him and the almighty smell of lavender and soap hit him all at once. This time, he was glad to have someone sit so close to him, because it was you.

“Harry look at me, hey, hey. You’re okay. Look at me bubs.” You spoke calmly, trying not to sound panicked yourself, even if you were heavily worried. You watched as he looked up at you, eyes ridiculously red and puffy whilst his nose was dripping like a leaking tap. You wanted to rub his tears away and dab away the snot, but your main priority was on his breathing first. “Okay good, okay.”

Your hand went into your bag and picked out his inhaler. You shook it a few times, before putting it into Harry’s mouth. “On three, one, two, three…” Harry tried is best to breathe in and you pushed down on the canister. “Good, bubs, really good. Okay again, one, two, three…” You repeated and then a third time until you could tell that the wheezing of his asthma attack had disappeared.

“T-than…” Harry tried to mumble out, but couldnt because he was still in panic and his throat was so dry.

“Sshh you’re okay.” You turned to one of the crew members and asked for them to fetch you a bottle of water. You asked people to clear out of the room and leave you with Harry for a bit, knowing he wouldn’t settle in front of all these people. You sat on the floor, crossed legged, and brought Harry to lay his head in your lap with his body trailing behind. You offered him one of your hands to squeeze if he wanted to, which he appreciated, cupping both of his around yours. Your other hand laid to stroke through his gelled hair - that would no doubt have to be redone now.

Instead of going straight into talking to him, you sang his favourite lullaby to him in aid of calming him down. It always worked, or at least helped a little. You sang quietly, noticing the beat of his heart soften with every line you sung. You were by no means a professional singer like him, but he liked the way it was so imperfect and mellow. It calmed him to hear something so simple and so you. Whilst you sang the crew never came back with your requested water and you thanked them, before you were the only ones left in the room.

After you finished singing you noticed how calm Harry was, almost still - the complete opposite to how he’d been all of 10 minutes ago. It was amazing what the power of you could do to him.

“What colour are we feeling?” You and Harry had created your own little system by which you would let each other know how you’re feeling by a colour of the rainbow. You’d designated a meaning to all of them that only you two could understand and used them on the days when you weren’t feeling great, to help understand each other’s feelings better.

“The whole bloody rainbow.” Harry mumbled out and you passed the water around so he could take a few sips, to which he thanked you graciously for.

“Oi, you can’t have that as your answer.” It was a rule that you could only use one colour to some your most intense emotion in that moment, otherwise there was kind of no point to the system.

“But it’s true. I feel grey with confusion, blue with sadness, purple with frustration, yellow with fear and even light yellow with cowardice. Yet I feel pink with happiness and light red with love.”

“What about red red?” You teased, not being able to help yourself.

“What? Lust? Always, for you that is.” You leant down to kiss his head as he cracked a joke, showing you that your Harry was still there beneath all this worry.

“Tell me what the colours represent in real life.”

“Purple because I am frustrated that I had to have a panic attack right before the biggest show of my career. Yellow because I am frightened that nobody will like the album and it will be a complete fail of a night. Grey because I can’t choose one colour and focus on it. I.. I—”

You could tell he getting himself worked up again, so cut him short. “Bubs stop, you’re okay. Listen to me.” You tucked his hair behind his ear as if to open it up for him to hear better. “Don’t ever be frustrated with yourself for something like this. You are allowed to have moments of weakness; you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. Did this compromise your show? No. Did this show off how strong and brave you are? Yes. That’s what is important, therefore we can swap purple for dark yellow because you were brave. Which means yellow can also turn to dark yellow because you are so brave for doing something so huge and so wonderful. People already love the album H. Can’t get enough of it. Everyone will sing along to every word, I can promise you that. Or at least I will. You are amazing, so never undersell yourself. That’s important to me and for you. Bubs, you are so amazing for what you’re doing here tonight and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Yes, a panic attack isn’t nice and it isn’t convenient, but it just helps show how much you care about tonight and it going a success. That must count for something.”

He didn’t say anything for a bit and that was okay. He was most likely getting his thoughts together and mentally preparing himself for the greatest night of his life. You bent your body over so you could hug him, since his back was to your front, and just give him a squeeze to reiterate how proud you are of him.

“Y/N.” Harry spoke quietly, as your body encased his. You embraced his warmth and inhaled the beautiful scent that he was wearing. He both smelt and looked phenomenal.

“Yes bubs.”

“You know I love you right?” Of course you did, but it still made your heart flutter as crazy as the first time he said it to when he tells you now.

“I do.”

“And you know you’re it for me right?”

“Well.. I—” You didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself.

“Because you are.” Harry turned himself around, making you sit up so he could move. He was lying with his head facing upwards now, face looking less red and puffy, and staring right into the souls of your eyes. He looked magical. Beautiful. He thought the same of you. “And,” he moved his fingers to take off his S ring from Gucci, that probably cost more than your annual salary, and place it onto your ring finger of your right hand, “I give you this as a promise to share my last name with you someday.”

Seeing the initial of his last name sat on the finger opposite to the one he claimed he would one day put two more rings on, brought you to tears. “Harry…” You didn’t know what to say, you were speechless. You had never expected for him to do something as monumental as this and had never experienced it before to know how to react.

Of course you’d always dreamt of marrying him and being his for eternity, but never thought of it possibly becoming your reality. Now, Harry was completely devoting himself to you and only you and it suddenly all felt like the dream was settling in place.

“I swear to you Y/N, i’ll love you until the next lifetime and i’ll find you again. I love you so much, I can’t even tell you how much because it is so infinite. You’re so kind and patient with me and you see me for me, not for the Harry Styles, just Harry. I’ll never let a day pass without you on my mind and I think it’s because you were always meant to be mine. My heart is yours.” He smiled once he noticed you were crying, moving one of his hands up to wipe the tears away.

“How do I top that?” You whispered to him, but mostly to yourself. Both of you laughed.

“Just tell me you love me.”

“I do. I do love you Harry.” You nodded and then he sealed your confirmation with a kiss to his lips. You rested your hand upon his cheek, placing the coolness of the S ring upon his cheekbone, as he placed his hand under your chin to guide you into the kiss. He tasted divine and you smiled knowing that you got to have him like this, taste him like this, for the rest of your beating hearts’ days.

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dorimena · 3 years

Note

Hello hello! Your blog is beautifully constructed. I hope there will be more dom reader blogs like yours in the future. If you aren’t busy could I please have g/n reader brat taming Bakugou or Shinsou? I’ll leave it up to you to decide. Remember to drink water!

Hello! Thank you! (´ ω `♡) I chose Bakugou, but I might do something similar for Shinsou later on huhu~ And thanks for the reminder! I hope you’re hydrated as well! ╰(*´︶`*)╯

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; bakugou katsuki

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.5k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; gender neutral reader, impact play (not too hard though), brat taming, crying, mentioned overstimulation, implied edge play, paddle, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; sex toy (cock ring), lowkey headcanon Bakugou being into impact play, some aftercare before round 2, mentioned safe word (cues like the traffic light colors), aged-up character, Bakugou is 18+

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; I hope you enjoy it notwhatiseem. I might’ve had to do some investigation, as I was unsure if my plan on how the story was going was a correct, or as correct, portrayal. Maybe in the near future Mr. Paddle will make a comeback-

𝕸𝖗. 𝕻𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊

“Baby boy! What has gotten into you today?”

You scold Bakugou as he glares at you from the couch, arms crossed and body relaxed on the cushions as he tries not to show how his anger is making his body tremble.

Unlike you, because you’re quivering in anger, in utter disappointment with the stunt he decided to pull during the Bakusquad’s monthly game night.

It was a fun time, a casual time and place where everyone could leave behind their prohero responsibilities before somehow being dragged away to missions, patrols, paperwork, all the glorious hero work.

But Bakugou decided that this very night, in the very moment Kaminari ‘accidentally’ placed his hand on your thigh, that he’ll be a brat. A jealous brat, which is worse than his usual bratty behavior.

But he isn’t usually a brat? It’s confusing and a whiplash for you, not really expecting to punish him after months of him being so obedient, so nice, so docile with you and everything you wanted or needed.

“Answer me, Bakugou.”

Okay, that made him furrow his eyebrows in worry, wondering if he’s crossing a line, but that already happened the moment he began sassing back at you and insulting you. Not even playful banter, it was just outright rude and degrading.

He went against opening his mouth or talking in general, just huffing as he slouched a bit more into the couch, as if he wants the cushions to swallow him in or maybe he’s trying to keep riling up your mood.

“Sit up correctly.” You snapped, halting your pacing as you standing in front of him, hands on your hips as you take in his sitting position. He’s barely such a slouch; he’s taking this too far.

Or maybe you got too used to him being such a sweet baby boy that you forgot just how impatient you can sometimes get.

This is one of those times.

“You’re not gonna talk?”

He shakes his head. Well, at least he answered, but his posture remains the same.

Sighing, you leave the living room and head to the bedroom, rummaging through your closet to find- aha!

Bakugou, in the meantime, is trying not to let his nerves get to him, not wanting clammy palms and possibly causing more harm with his reactions. All he can hear is stuff being moved around in your shared bedroom and then hearing a small shout of victory.

But for what- wait, why the fuck did you take that out?!

“Alright, baby boy. I hope you remember Mr.Paddle. He will aid me in your punishment.”

No, no! Anything but the paddle! You’ve never used it, at all. Even if there were some close calls, you still never had it anywhere near his skin, or him. It was a gag gift you gave him out of the blue.

“No!” Bakugou yelled, getting on his feet as his arms fell on either side of him, eyes wide in shock and slight fear. How hard could you go with that? How bad will it hurt?

But your amused chuckle seems to make him even more confused. Aren’t you angry at him?

“So you speak when threatened, but not when spoken to nicely? I told you to sit correctly-”

“I will!”

“Baby boy.” Oh he’s done it. He interrupted you just as he was kind of redeeming himself.

Well, shit.

“I’m s-sorry…” He trailed off, slowly sitting down on the couch as he never loses eye contact with you, waiting to see if you’ll finally use the paddle or you’ll continue trying to talk things out.

But you made a good point: why does he only speak up when threatened with punishment instead of avoiding all of this anger?

“Baby boy. Today you’ve gotten bold with your actions and your words. But you’ve been terribly rude with Kaminari! Isn’t he your friend? What did he do wrong?”

You do know, but you wanted to hear it from him.

But Bakugou kept his silence, fidgeting on the seat as he battled his inner, mini Bakugous about the pros and cons of speaking up and answering.

The main pro is that he’ll be given attention.

The main con is that that attention will be given with the paddle.

Well, his pride be damned.

“He was touching you! I hate it when other people do!” He spoke out, voice raising in volume just a bit at the end, but he shyly whispered, “you of all people know how jealous I can get.”

“Oh~ so baby boy was jealous?”

He groaned, covering his face with his hands before taking them away in a flash, grimacing at how sweaty they are and how sweet it smells.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, goddamn it.”

“Language.”

He grumbled, pouting as he looked at you again, slowly averting his gaze to the paddle as it just stared back at him.

Why does he feel like even if he spoke, he’s going to get that touching him?

He was right after some time, his body moving forward with every hit you landed on his ass with the paddle, a cry of the number he’s on leaving his mouth as more drool lands on the bed, more tears wetting the sheets, more precum falling in stringy drips on the sheets.

He can’t even come to care about the rapidly dirty sheets, or even come to think about anything really. Not with how every smack he receives, the hornier he keeps getting. The tighter his hands grip the bed sheets, and if he were at least conscious with his actions, he would’ve heard fabric tearing up and smell a bit of burning.

Is he into this? Has he always been into this? Well, yes. But he didn’t think taking the paddle instead of your hand would be so much better.

God, please-

“H-harder! Please! H-hardeeeeer- ugh fuuuuuuuck.”

You snicker before rearing back into a serious expression.

“Excuse me? You’re not allowed to speak, baby. Keep counting.”

Bakugou groans before it ends in a sob, a weak ‘68’ coming out as you land the last spank on his bruising ass and a small ‘69’ squeaks out of his throat as he falls forward, face resting on a nearby pillow. And if you somehow catch his hips gyrate slowly against the bed and small, hoarse whines leave his body, you decide to ignore and let him come down from the high the way he usually does.

You’re quite surprised at how he hadn’t used his safe word, or any safe cues, within the spankings, and actually asked for you to go harder. But his bruises are enough to make you feel kind of bad, just a bit.

“You know,” you speak, throwing the paddle on the floor before rounding the bed, squatting to look at his tear stricken, blush decorated, sweat sticky face, “I knew you were a slut for impact play, but I didn’t think it’d be this much.”

Bakugou just mewls weakly, voice lost in his trance as he tried recollecting any thoughts of his, especially the coherent ones so he could speak. Even if they’re just curse words.

“Sh-shitty y-y/n…” He blinks a couple of times, trying to unblur his eyes with the tears that seem to stubbornly stay on his lash line.

“Th-think tha-at be ‘nough? Hah… y-yer cute.”

Blinking yourself, you stare as you shake your head. So he wants to act difficult today, huh?

“Oh baby, baby, baby. All you had to do was ask nicely instead of being mean to your friends. You know I would do anything to keep you happy, to please you.”

You reach to pet him, scratching his scalp as soothing as possible, watching as his eyes slowly come back to being sharp, the fuzz lingering leaving as his mouth twitches into a smile, a relaxed, serene smile as his once tense body slowly melts into the bed, the small shudders from the intensity of the situation for his body slowly disappearing as he lets out something close to a purr.

How cute, he thinks he’s off the hook.

“Since baby boy isn’t satisfied with what I gave him, guess I’ll just have to fuck the brattiness and attitude out of you, hm?”

You slowly lift your hand, standing up as you go back to the closet, leaving him with enough time to gather his thoughts back together and come to realize how you’ve tricked him, how you’re not even done yet, how he’s still gonna get punished.

But, he loves overstimulation? How is that punishing?

“Oh! Forgot to mention: you’ll be wearing this until I feel like taking it off, okay?”

And in his line of vision is his cock ring, the horrible toy that vibrates in teasing tempos and makes him pathetically cum, humiliating him. God he hates that fucking thing.

He growls lowly, as if he’d have a threat ready between his teeth, but then you flipped him over gently, the coolness of the sheets soothing his ass as you flick one of his nipples.

He whimpers, puffing his chest out more for you to keep playing with.

“What’s your color right now, Katsuki?”

“Green m-master.”

#notwhatiseem #✿; impurity #bnha smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #mha smut #𝖇𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔𝖚 #ლ; blasphemy

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years

Note

Ok i got an monster tom x scientist reader au universe thing and no it does not take place in the red army base

Reader is a scientist and is asked to run some tests on a new specimen/monster they found, and when reader sees the specimen/monster they actually think it's kinda cute but then some other scientists shock him and even stick some needles in him and reader just feels bad for the specimen/monster at this point so nighttime rolls around and they hack into the cameras to shut them off and wear a mask so they won't get caught and go to the main room where the specimen/monster is they the reader introduces themselves to the monster the monster, thinking they're gonna hurt them, immediately backs off obviously scared and reader convinces the monster that they're not gonna hurt them and the monster shrinks as he's mostly human and says "your not gonna hurt me?" And they reassure him that they're not gonna hurt him and they sneak into the readers car and drives off the lab that the monster was in and reader asks what the "monsters" name is and says their name is "tom". Then reader makes a pit stop to a store real quick to get tom some clothes and then reader drives to they're home and introduces tom to their room and asks if they want some food/ take out or not an he says yes and they get some chinese food and watch some TV, after eating they both go to bed and reader suddenly finds themselves in Toms arms whimpering a little, and reader just kinda decides to pet his hair and rub his horns a little bit which make him purr then tom wraps his tail around reader and asks them to do it more and they do do that untill they notice that he's asleep then they both fall asleep.

Whew, I enjoyed writing this one ^^

Summary: Reader, a scientist, rescues Monster Tom from the lab that experimented on him and brings him home

...............

"Dr. [L/n], I'll let you oversee today's tests on TR-03."

"Alright, chief." You smiled awkwardly as your supervisor handed you the clipboard. It contained the subject's information: a one-eyed horned monster of an unknown species, though your colleagues have theorized it to be a demon. "What kind of tests are we running on it?"

"Resistance to electric shocks. There's evidence of uranium possibly circulating in its blood, so you'll be watching them extract samples as well."

As he explained, your smile gradually dropped as you looked over the information, seeing a ton of redacted information, including several incidents of the destruction it caused prior to its capture.

"So it's gonna be shocked and stuck with needles? Sounds painful."

"Its armor is thick, so it shouldn't feel a thing. Besides...I don't think you need to worry about whether it'll be painful for it." Your supervisor spoke in a rather condescending tone. "After all it's just an animal."

"I...yes, sir. I'll go oversee the tests right away." Not wanting to argue further, you just left his office and wandered through the building.

You were eager yet anxious to meet this monster.

Eventually you reached the area where the creature was being held, climbing up the stairs that led to the skybridge so you could look down into its holding chambers.

It was a massive dark purple creature, with two bright violet horns and a single black eye. Surprisingly it was allowed full movement, though judging from the many claw marks on the walls...it wouldn't surprise you if one day it was chained up to restrict such behavior.

You actually thought it was..kind of cute? It looked scary in pictures, but up-close it didn't seem as terrifying.

That only made you feel more pity for it as other scientists entered the chamber, clad in protective suits, with electric prongs and needles.

Almost immediately the monster seemed aware of what they were going to do, its eye widening as it stood on both feet and cowered in the corner. It growled in warning, only for a scientist to jab its leg with a prong in response, eliciting a roar of pain.

You physically flinched, feeling bad for the creature. But you took notes on its response to electric shocks.

Subject recognized equipment immediately, perceiving them as danger. Responded painfully to electricity.

Soon after being tortured, the monster seemed dazed, allowing another scientist in a hazmat suit to approach it and stick a needle into its hip. The vial of blood collected turned out to be red, with a glowing green aura.

As you took more notes, you heard a small whimper and looked down, seeing that the monster wasn't putting up a fight.

Instead it was...crying?

Sure enough, tears leaked from its eye as more of its blood was drawn, being electrocuted as some sick form of "sedation". It was hard to tell whether the people inside felt any sort of sympathy, but they just took their leave without saying a word to each other. Only a mere nod.

You didn't want to be here any longer than you needed to, so you finished your report and began heading back to your office.

Though you noticed the monster looking up at you, and you couldn't help but frown and murmur a simple:

"I'm sorry."

.............

After your shift was over, normally you'd go home for the night.

But on the ride home...you kept thinking of TR-03 and couldn't shake the images and sounds of its pain.

The way it responded to just seeing the prongs, and the way it looked at you as though it was begging for help, seemed far too human for it to be just a mindless animal.

Of course, you never questioned the secrets this lab kept--not wanting to be fired. But they seemed to be hiding a lot of stuff about this specimen, never speaking about its origins or even what it was capable of.

You may have only seen it for the first time today, but you wanted to know more about it. And you had a feeling that you won't get the answers you wanted by asking around.

Oh no..you were going to free it in order to find out the truth.

Not just to satisfy your own curiosity, but also because...the way it was being treated was far too cruel. To the point where it was crying.

You couldn't stand for this unethical treatment any longer. You had to do something..and be smart about it lest you got killed or worse.

After making a quick stop at a store, you found a mask and changed your clothes, completely disguising yourself. Then you got back in your car and returned to the lab, parking it somewhere far away so that you can sneak inside.

Fortunately you had security access in case any of the specimen breached their chambers. Thanks to your hacking skills you were able to disable every security camera you could find, putting them all on timers so they'd turn on later in the morning. You didn't want to rouse any suspicion.

That was the easy part.

The most important and difficult task lied ahead.

...........

As soon as you entered the monster's chamber, it woke up and grumbled with annoyance. Clearly it didn't like its rest being disturbed.

Though upon seeing you and the mask you wore, it tilted its head. "Grrrah..?"

"Shhh, it's okay." You whispered, removing the mask so it could see your face. While you were awestruck to actually see it up close and personal, you knew you had to keep calm.

But that might've been a mistake as it seemed to recognize you--the one who was watching it earlier today. It immediately backed into a corner, terrified as its chest began heaving with anxiety.

You couldn't blame it for its reaction, though your gently put your hands up and hushed it. "Please don't panic. I'm not here to hurt you. I wanna get you out of here."

"Hrrgrah?"

"Mhm." Smiling, you just pretended you could understand it. "I don't like how they treat you here. They call you an animal but..I know you're more than that."

The monster calmed down a little, before glancing up to the opposite corner. He made a noise of confusion upon seeing that the security camera's annoying red light wasn't blinking.

"I shut that off so nobody can hear or see us."

"H...ack..?"

You blinked, surprised that it could speak some English, but the fact it wasn't cowering like before was a sign it was trusting you. "Yep, I hacked the whole security complex. Now's our chance to escape, but..ah shit."

Suddenly, it never occurred to you: your mission was focused on getting to the monster, but you never considered how you'll get out with the monster.

"Damn..I'm not sure how we'll sneak you out without...." However, you trailed off as you saw it changing into a smaller form.

But it wasn't just shrinking, it was actually turning partially human.

How curious, nobody told you about that. Maybe that was part of the redacted information.

The monster turned out to be a human male, who still retained his horns, tail, and dark scales and fur, which covered his body. His brown hair was messy and spiky, and interestingly enough he had two black eyes.

He didn't have any clothes, obviously, so you took off your coat and put it around him. "So you're human, huh?"

"Your stupid friends' experiments wouldn't let me turn back for a while..." He grumbled in a slight British accent. "You sure you're not gonna hurt me?"

Understandably he got defensive, knowing you were working for the people who tortured him. But you shook your head. "No, I won't. I'm quitting this shithole and I'll take you with me." You took his hand reassuringly, noting that it was still clawed.

He gave you the tiniest of smiles in return. "Heh, glad we're both in agreement."

Soon you both quickly made your escape, luckily not running into any trouble. Your car was still parked right where you left it, so you got in and drove off.

You definitely won't miss working for that lab.

The roads were mostly empty at this time of night, so you were able to breathe easy knowing nobody's gonna chase you. Now seemed to be the best time to talk with the monster.

"So uh..do you have a name?" You spoke up. "I know they call you TR-03 but it doesn't feel right to call you that anymore."

"Tom." He answered as he looked out the window. "My name's Tom Ridges."

'Huh, that explains his code name.'

"I'm [y/n]." After noticing a nearby plaza, you saw a clothing store and decided to make a quick stop there. Tom seemed to be confused, and a bit worried when you left him in the car all alone, though you reassured him you were just buying some clothes for him.

He waited, trying to keep himself out-of-view in case any strangers got too nosy. But before long you were back, opening the driver's side as you peered in and sighed with relief, seeing him halfway out of the chair.

"Jeez, you scared me..thought somebody got you." You sighed, shaking your head.

"S-Sorry, not trying to get any unwanted attention. It's the last thing I need.." He sat upright, though he was surprised when you handed him a bag. Inside was a blue hoodie, boxers, and gray sweatpants. "Oh, cool."

'That's all he has to say?' His reaction was a bit underwhelming. 'Then again..maybe he hasn't processed that he's never going back to that hell chamber yet.'

You just shut the door and waited for him to get dressed, and when he tapped on the window you got back into the car. He definitely looked more comfortable now.

After giving him a smile, you continued on your way home, feeling glad that you rescued him from that place. You had no idea if he had any place to go, granted you don't recall seeing any information on his address nor any relationships.

So he'll stay with you.

...........

"Luckily I got a spare room. Excuse the mess." You chuckled as you showed Tom the extra room in your house, turning on the light. "You can stay here for as long as you'd like."

He nodded as he looked around, before feeling his stomach grumble. In embarrassment he put a hand over it, glancing at you. "Sorry..the food they had was shitty, I'm sure you knew."

"Yeah...you want takeout?" You took out your phone. "I don't feel like cooking tonight so I was gonna order some anyway."

"Sounds good."

"Alrighty, I'll call in the order. We can go watch TV while we wait."

Once more Tom nodded, following you into the living room space where you both sat down on the sofa. He sighed and leaned back, turning on the TV while you ordered some Chinese food.

This situation felt so...comforting and familiar..

For a moment he gazed at you, seeing you look through the menu.

He knew he wasn't the only prisoner back in that lab. So he couldn't understand why you'd choose him, of everyone you could've helped, but...he considered himself lucky.

For once he felt like he could let his guard down a little.

Some time later the food arrived to your house, and you both ate it while watching various TV programs. You asked Tom a bit more about his home life, though he didn't have much to talk about.

Whether he didn't want to say anything or forgot it thanks to the experiments was a mystery, but you wouldn't pry. You'll get your answers sooner or later, though not tonight.

Tonight you both deserved a good rest.

Afterwards you headed off to your own room, letting him know that he can knock on your door if he ever needed anything.

You got into your pajamas and crawled into bed, yawning.

It had definitely been an eventful day. You were eager to sleep in, knowing that you won't ever go back to your boring (and unethical) job.

But just as you had turned off the lights and dozed off, you heard your door creak open. With a slightly annoyed sigh, you sat up and turned on the lamp beside you, before seeing it was Tom.

"Tom? Your room is..."

Though you fell silent when you heard him...whimper? His eyes were white, indicating he was in some kind of distress.

But he crawled onto your bed, practically situating himself in your arms while making sure he didn't jab you with his horns. You were perplexed by his actions, though you finally realized..

He was just scared.

You held him in your arms, rubbing his horns soothingly and petting his hair, murmuring promises that he was safe. In response he nuzzled up to you, tail wrapping around your body as you both laid down.

You only stopped for a moment as he started purring, which made you chuckle softly. "Purring, huh? That's new."

"Can you keep doing that?" He grumbled, closing his eyes. "It was nice till you stopped."

"O-Oh right, sorry." You continued the previous motions, deciding to hum a small song as well to help him sleep.

Eventually you stopped once he dozed off completely, and your cheeks felt warm upon seeing how adorable he looked. 'And to think I was afraid of this guy?' You mused, before turning off the lamp light.

Soon enough you fell asleep as well.

If this is how Tom expressed his thanks...you'll take it.

#clanask #anonymous #eddsworld x reader #ew tom x reader #monster tom x reader #scientist reader

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inlustrissss · 3 years

Note

What about a fluff one shot of L falling in love with his friend and work partner... but he has no idea how to declare his love for reader so L decides to ask for misa's help.

Also, can i get a Goth and Gender Neutral reader? 👉👈

you asked, you got it! Although I am just a little bit late, I hope you won't be mad at me for this 🥺💕 I tried my utmost best with keeping it respectfully gender neutral so I hope you like it!!! Love, Inlustris

Monitor

L Lawliet x GN! Reader

warnings: none!

summary: After solving one case after the other, in the most dangerous moment the famous detective known as L finally starts to realize what is most dear to him. Though never being involved with feelings or touchy subjects, L asks an outsider for help.

My requests are open! Submit here!

Throughout the big room no light shone through the thick curtains which had separated the working place from the window that lead to the outside world.

As the busy streets in the afternoon spring sun, came to an end, only the tired clicking and ticking could be heard. The static of the TV wired to one of the main bodies of the computers flickered and played over the loud chirping of the long-billed plovers. As the rainy days came to an end, the smell of fresh gras was almost visible, though the headquarters seemed to only know serious work.

The (H/C) haired only sighed, noticing their long friend and colleague working on a file absentmindedly. Normally, a person who didn’t know the infamous detective L, they’d always find his behavior questioning, but would never interfere- thinking the male would work that way. Though (Y/N) knew, this wasn’t his 100%, something must be on his mind.

Glancing, almost stalking him for a while, they thought the genius would notice their stares, which he usually does, but for some reason his nail biting only intensified. Having talked to Watari, L’s personal butler, both of them ad agreed on trying to remind the man to stop his habit. Even this genius is human and gets trapped by simple anxious habits.

“Ryuzaki-”, calling him with his alias during working time and while on the open, he tensed up, “Stop your nail biting.”.

Even with their soft tone escaping their rosy but now colored in a beautiful darker shade he seemed to grow more nervous. “Besides, isn’t it time for a break? I’ve noticed the past couple of hours you’re not acting like yourself.”, looking around, the noticed they were alone. “Are you okay?”, they asked in a hushed tone.

Looking around, L noticed the big, round and innocent looking (E/C) orbs, staring back into his dark irises, worry etched on their face. Their make-up and unique style fitting and contradicting to their profession as always, L rushed his thought that they’d probably make a better model than Misa-Misa. But it would be a waste to their current investigation and future cases, due to their outstanding performance as his right hand.

Inching closer to L their (E/C) eyes narrowed, squinting ever so slightly. L didn’t make any movement, not a flinch. Their eyes would notice everything, even the slightest squirm. Quickly turning around though, L shrugged “Whatever you are talking about-”, taking a hold of his sugary cup of tea, the male stood up to leave, ”You’re right, it is indeed time for a break.”, opening the door, he left the dazzled one behind: “Monitor each fottage I left please, thanks (Y/N)”

Taking a long sip out of his plain white cup filled with a half of tea and the other half of sugar, L placed down the now empty cup on to a silver tray, that mostly Watari used to transport little sandwiches for each hard working inspector and treats for the detective. Taking some time to think about the events, L let his hands slide into his pockets, though stopped mid way as he had noticed that certain ping sound coming from the elevator.

Looking up, it was the said model: Misa-Misa, with her blond hair swaysing each step she too and the extraordinary Lolita-Goth look he oh so liked on his partner. Meeting her sea blue eyes, her facial expression lit up and her friendly and happy go lucky demeanor showed: “Ryuuakiii!”, waving her hand at him while dragging the letter “i” into an annoying laughing fit, she revealed a fashion magazine in her left.

“Good afternoon, Misa.”, waving back to the blonde, though with less enthusiasm, he asked, “Were you on your way to see (Y/N)?”, mentioning the magazine in Misas hand. “Oh yes!”, holding the magalogue into view, showing proudly the front page which contained the last few shootings the model mentioned the week before her last visit, “I wanted to show them the new copy we’ve been waiting for and--”, L cut her off by raising his hand, “Sorry, you can’t see them right now, it’s still working time, Misa.”

“Aww, seriously? You probably just want them all for yourself!”, pouting, Misa just crosse3d her arms before her chest, but L remained silent, softly repeating her words to himself “All for myself?”. The blonde looked up, a curious gaze meeting the raven haired, “So you do want her all to yourself!”, giggling, the model covered up her red lips with her free hand. “I’m not quite sure what you mean by that, they are a person on their own, I can’t simply restrict and own them.”

“Of course you know what I mean, you’re a genius, you should know!”, sighing, the blonde twirled a lose strand of hair between her middle and pointy finger: “Maybe all of that sugar did get to you..”,mocking the male, L just shrugged, “I don’t think so.”

But this did got him thinking: Does he truly want them all to himself? It indeed has been now quite the long time he was restless while working, not entirely there. His mind wandering off into an imaginative world or worrisome state whenever (Y/N) wouldn’t be around- no, scratch that, it didn’t matter, he quickly noticed.

Wether they’d be there or not, his mind was partly fixated on their well being. Though wasn’t it always like that? They’ve been partners for a really long time, longer than his knowledge of Naomi Misora for sure, and friends too.

He read a lot of things during his early days, a lot about solving different puzzles and games, but he could never wrap his hand around when they came.

His experimental time with how feelings would work while (Y/N) were partners were over, he saw himself to them as an equal by now, but what if- “Helloo, earth to Ryuzaki!”, waving the magazine in front of the famous detective, Misa huffed, “Man, bet you’re thinking about (Y/N) if it takes you that long to get out of your dreamy thoughts”, gifting him a look of her tongue, she mocked him again, “You should try that brain-work on finding Kira! I wanna go on a date with Light already again, he promised!”, a date?

Maybe a little trip, spending the day with his friend would make the situation a bi8t lighter- finding out about his true thoughts and feelings that hid in his clouded mind. “Can’t believe I’m saying this-”, he murmured, “But: Misa, I might or might not need your help with something.”, he bluntly responded, ignoring her witty comments., “Help? With what?”, again, her airy head. Sighing, L explained another time, “You see, you’re such an emotional person, where I’m more technical.”, shoving his hands into his pockets, in a hunched position he began to walk, motioning her to follow him into a room across the hall, “The past few days I might’ve felt a little bit under the weather and I do have my suspicion, but to be honest, even as a detective, I can’t help but not be able to solve this mystery on my own, Misa.”

Opening the door, he held it open for the young woman to step inside. “What do you mean under the weather? Are you sick?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it sick, when it’s just a feeling, I believe, and not just a condition.”, he stated, scratching his had as he continued to stay while Misa took the opportunity to relax her legs and sit down on to a couch. “Wait, was I maybe right when I said you might have a thing for (Y/N)?”, noticing how L had perked up by hearing their name, Misas sea blue eyes seemed to sparkle a few shades lighter, already rosy cheeks deepening. “Awww~ Ryuzaki, really?”, she cooed at the usually emotionless acting detective.

Like previously mentioned, he’s also just a human.

“For a long time now, I want to find out about these thoughts that were kept in the back of my head.”, especially now the most dangerous case since Beyond Birthday, everyday might as well be the last day that he would glance at their beautiful eyes, and their wonderful perfume reaching his nose. “I’m just not sure how”

Eyes softening along with her features, Misas excitement toned down and switched with a warm smile, noticing how lost the male was when it came to the most basic human needs, “It’s fairly easy on finding out how you feel about them, Ryuzaki.”

“If it would be that easy, I wonder why I can’t put my finger on it”, lifting his thumb to his mouth he began biting down on his nail, eyes following the trail of the skyline, visible due to the opened window.

Standing up and entrusting her weight back to her feet, Misas smile never wavered, “Why don’t you just ask them out?”

Dark eyes wandering back to the model, he raised a brow: “I work with them every day, I see (Y/N) every day.”

“I don’t mean as a colleague or as a friend, Ryuzaki. I’m sure they’ll say yes regardless and besides, spending a day with (Y/N) will give you surely an idea if not a start of your thesis on how to feel about them!”, looking up at the taller male with a determined look, Misa Amane was more than sure: “And if the firt time won’t be enough, the ask them out again and again and again, until you got your answer.”, making her way to the door, she stepped out. “It’s not too late and not too cold to go yet.”, winking to the male she laughed one last time

“Take them out-”, she waved, “There is this pretty nice café down the block! I’ll come around another time!”, with that, she had left.

Thinking over the blondes words, she must be right. Besides, some time off shouldn’t hurt, it never does. Slow steps were heard as L Lawliet made his way towards the ain investiation room, where he had left (Y/N) to continue his work, so none of the progress was lost.

Not forgetting any manners, he knocked, signaling that someone would come in and not startle them. “Oh, you’re back.”, their angelic like voice greeted the male. “Yeah, though it’s now you’re turn for a break, it’s time to wrap things up.”

Swallowing his build up lumb which seemed to sit tight above his adams apple, he stood straight, expression not changing: “Would you want to go out with me?”

Turning around swiftly, (H/C) hair danced around their pretty head in the process as their eyes widened and cheeks reddened.

“There is this pretty nice café down the block.”, he said.

Seeing them smile set her at ease, nodding (Y/N) only laughed, “Sure, L. Let’s go.”

Turning off the computers, (Y/N) stood up to join L’s side and walk down the hall towards the elevator. Smiling the whole way towards the Café and while being with him, (Y/N) couldn’t be happier.

Happy that Misa had come with her obnoxiously loud voice, gaining (Y/N)’s attention on the other side of the door and happy that the whole building is bugged.

No, they didn’t neglect their work- (Y/N) did monitor the fottage, though L did not necessarily mention which one.

Just like spring had brought the most wonderful flowers, a relationship blossoming would soon follow up.

#l lawliet x reader #l x reader #L Lawliet #misa amane #death note x reader #gender neutral s/o #death note L #death note #death note l x reader #L lawliet oneshot #oneshot

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

Little Witch - Part 6

The Darkling x Reader

Your beautiful blue embroidered kefta glistened in the rays of the evening sun that managed to light the corridors as you sashay your way to the main hall. Some people stared at you, their eyes confused and jaws practically on the floor. Who is she? They probably thought.

You walked past Aleksander's chambers and the open door caught your attention. Was he back? You stepped in and seen the man himself void of his black kefta, leaning against the table with a glass in his hand. Kvas? Or maybe Whiskey?

'You're back'

His back stiffened and he slowly turned but paused. A smirk climbed its way onto his face against his better wishes.

'As are you I can see'

'This old thing?' You looked down at yourself one more time, you finally felt like yourself. It might’ve been a shallow tendency left over from your first years at the Palace, but clothing was a part of your personality.

'Are you coming down to eat?'

He looked surprised for a split second. You knew he rarely ate with the rest due to his busy life, but one time wouldn't hurt. Perhaps it would calm down the Grisha who loved to whisper. Who were you kidding, it would fuel Rumor-Ville.

'Do you want me there?' He set his glass down and crossed his arms. Saints. He's so fine. You moved to close the door, you valued privacy as much as anyone else did and the guards outside were sure to be listening. Somehow, the tension in the room grew tenfold. It was insufferable and hot.

'It is your Palace, isn't it? You can do whatever you wish....regardless of what I want.'

You moved closer until you were next to him with your eyes fixed on the table, standing shoulder to shoulder with his tall frame. You looked at him through your eyelashes and his expression didn't disappoint. You sure knew how to stroke his ego.

A cold hand started trailing the bare skin on your neck, then traced its way down your clothed back, leaving a burning feeling as it passed

'I think the black suits you better.'

Your eyes couldn't help but flutter closed. You missed his touch.

'It's always been my favorite on you. It's what you wear whenever I think of you'

He turned and moved behind you, both hands suddenly at your waist, pulling your back into his chest. His breath tickled your face, his lips dangerously close to your neck. Every time he touched you, all caution went with the wind and your own thoughts fizzled out. Your senses were blurred and your heart was beating its way out of your body as your own hands gripped the end of the table, knuckles turning white.

'Tell me Y/N, are you glad to be back' His lips ghosted your ear as he spoke. You felt a familiar feeling you hadn't felt in a long time; lust. It forced its way to the forefront of your being, overtaking any logic that may have stayed. You recognized the truth in your reaction; you couldn't resist him.

'I a-' He made his way up your neck, leaving hot opened mouthed kisses in his path as your knees grew weak, you gripped the table harder if at all possible. He suddenly took your jaw in his hand and tilted it away for better access. You fell back into his chest, his other hand tugging you impossibly close to him.

As much as you enjoyed being teased by him, you had had enough and abruptly turned your head, crashing your lips into his. His response was immediate. He pulled you close, savoring every bit of you. You could taste the desperation on his lips.

Your hands went around his neck and to his hair, pulling and tugging, earning a deep-throated moan from him. You didn't think it was possible to be more willing for him but that moan had a holy effect on you. You were suddenly picked up by the thighs and your back hit the bookshelf roughly. You pulled away to catch your breath, saints knows he took it away. He didn't pause, just took to your neck, sucking and biting, fueled by your whimpers and moans. Your thighs were caged in with his strong grip, definitely bruised at this point.

Your hands went for his shirt, ready to rip it open if the buttons didn't give up soon. But a loud knock stopped you both. NO. please no. You let out a whine as he brought his forehead to yours, his eyes firmly shut. He was annoyed too.

'General, There's been an update on the Fjerdan borers.' You heard over your racing heart.

'Thank you, Ivan'

Ivan.

Aleksander looked at you then the door. Obviously torn at what to tend to : The war or you.

You took the liberty of making the decision for him and placed your shaking hands on his chest, a sign to let you down. He did as instructed but not before kissing you once again, leaving a gentle reminder that embedded itself into your memory.

'I'll join you to eat as soon as I can' He walked to where his kefta was while doing up the buttons you managed to open. He dragged a hand through his messy hair while staring at you, completely mesmerized. A smirk fell to your lips and you turned to leave suddenly feeling shy.

*******

The hall was bustling with conversations before anybody had noticed you or the guards flanking you. You could tell the food still hadn't been served from your distance. You hesitated to enter, a sudden feeling of nervousness overwhelmed you. These people had no idea who you were and you were about to sit at the right hand of The Darkling's seat.

You shook it off and mustered the courage to walk in. Like a wave, all stares turned to you and the talking ceased. You spotted Alina who didn't look as surprised as you would've guessed, but Zoya on the other hand, she was pissed. You walked slowly and with confidence to your chair and sat down. It was marvelous, the same as Aleksander's yet completely different. Its tone was darker, more mysterious.

You started to grow uncomfortable with all those gazes poking holes in you, so you looked up with raised your eyebrows, What? It seemed to do the trick, as almost every Grisha went back to talking, abandoning their previous conversation topics and devoted their words entirely to you instead.

'So that's the kefta?' You heard Alina's voice break through the whispers and turned to her.

'Yes, it is. Does it make a good impression?' You smiled.

'It really does, I love it, it’s so different' She went back to listening to Marie and Nadia, looking bored.

The room fell silent again just as the food came out, but not because of the servants scurrying to place plates in front of everyone but because their General walked in carelessly. He sat down next to you shooting a look to the audience and the talking started again.

'What's for dinner because I certainly know what's for dessert' He mused with a boyish smile, only so that you could hear. You looked at him and seen your Aleksander, not The General, or the Darkling.

But your other half.

------------------------------------------------------------

Part 7

@xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @0-artemis @lostysworld @theonelittleone

#imagine #shadow and bone #the darkling #the darkling x reader #alexander morozova #alexander #ben barnes #alina starkov #grisha #fanfic #series #little palace #kefta #general kirigan x reader

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spidey-sophie · 4 years

Text

Tangled In The Sheets | Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader (exes to lovers)

Warnings: angst-ish, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, squirting, ass play, angsty sex

Summary: You were the one who told him it didn't mean that you guys were back together. "I agree," he said as his lips reached for the weak spot on your neck, "it's just for the fun of it."

Word Count: 5.6k

Notes: The biggest THANK YOU ever goes to the immensely talented @worldoftom. She made this 100 times better and I’d be lost without her!

It was just another Friday night. Ever since you got your bachelor’s degree, you had yet to get used to having no paperwork to be done. It was a big achievement for you, but somehow you still didn’t manage to properly celebrate it. You just wanted to stay home, listen to some music, go through one of your favorite books or movies. But the sound of your roommates getting ready for yet another party was distracting.

You were just about to put your headphones on when you heard your friend Zoe calling your name. She entered your room, looking excited, all dressed up and beautiful, which made you chuckle because you were sitting in your room, your hair in a messy bun, bags of chips all over your bed.

“Come over Y/N, Alex and I need your help!” she practically pulled you out of your bed. What could they possibly need you for?

“Hello, Y/N! Welcome to your intervention!” Alex proclaimed while she held a couple of dresses in her hands.

You opened your mouth to object, but she interrupted you.

“We decided to finally get you out of bed. We won’t take no for an answer. It’s the biggest party of the year. After studying so hard this whole semester, we think you need to relax. You were like the best student in our class, and it’s finally time for you to celebrate it!”

“And we made sure he won’t be there," she added. "You need to have some fun, ever since you broke up with…”

“Don’t say his name Alex!” Zoe hissed through her teeth, angry eyes on Alex. “So what do you say?” she quickly turned back to you.

“I really appreciate everything you girls did, but I really need to finish some laundry and I have some stuff to pack and…” you trailed off.

You were glad your friends cared this much about you, of course, but the thought of going out, the crowd, the loud music, alcohol, cigarettes... No, you wanted to skip all of that. Both Zoe and Alex were also single so there was a chance they’d hook up with someone which then would mean you'd be left all alone. So thanks, but no thanks.

You still weren’t interested in dating. It kind of felt like it was too soon after your last attempt. Even though you knew he might’ve moved on.

“Pleaseee Y/N, this will be our big graduation celebration party! I’ll borrow you my black backless dress that I know you love!” Alex said and showed you the dress she was holding in her hands.

“If I say yes, will you both leave me alone for the next like two months and stop blackmailing me into going to pubs and parties?” you asked, swiftly seizing the dress Alex was holding.

They both started screaming and hugging you at those words.

The rest of the evening went by pretty quickly. Zoe helped you with your hair and you applied some makeup. Nothing drastic, just something to enhance your features. You didn’t want to go all out with hair or makeup because the dress Alex borrowed you was the star of the show. It was a short, black dress with spaghetti straps that cross on your back. For the first time in a while, you were actually happy about how you look.

“Okay, let’s go,” you said as you joined your friends in your living room. Zoe just nodded at you, since she knew how compliments made you feel.

“Look at you femme fatale.” As Alex said this and went by your side, she slapped your bum.

“Stop it or you’ll never see this dress again,” you threatened. And with those words you were already in your uber, heading to the club where your friends from university were throwing a party.

It was a big club, on two floors with a big balcony area. As you arrived you recognized some faces, but there were many that you’d never seen. As it turned out, the word of the party got spread through town really quickly.

You found a place where you could sit and one of Zoe’s not-so-secret admirers kept sending you drinks. As night went by you felt yourself getting a bit lightheaded. There was a warmth going through your body, a spurt of energy that made you grab Alex and head right to the dance floor. It’d been a long time since you felt this carefree. You had no idea if it was because of the alcohol or because you were finally done with your studying, but you felt free. After a few songs went by, you left Alex with some of her friends and went to the bar to get another beer.

“Hi, I’m Mark,” you heard a deep voice behind you and as you turned around you noticed a cute blonde-haired boy.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You grabbed your beer and had an internal debate about whether you should stay here and talk to this cute boy. On the one hand, it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little. On the other hand, flirting and talking didn’t have to lead into anything more with this guy. (Or anyone.)

Just when you decided you should give Mark a chance, you noticed someone familiar. It felt like you would always recognize those light blue eyes. You stopped listening to whatever this guy next to you was talking about and focused on another blonde boy. It was dark in the room, but as far as you could see, he was alone, just some girls around him.

You excused yourself away from Mark and went back to Alex on the dance floor.

“So much of you making sure he won’t be here. Guess who I just saw – Harrison!”

“Really? Well, he told me he and Tom were going to another party! Was Tom with him?” Alex started justifying herself.

“Why are you talking to Harrison? Nevermind, where’s Zoe?” Alex was just about to hug you, her eyes filled with empathy, but you had to change the subject. And as much as you tried, you started to feel nauseous. You couldn’t face Tom now. Not yet. The crowded room started suffocating you, you had to go outside to get some fresh air.

“I’ll just go out on the balcony for a bit and I’ll go home, okay? I’m feeling sick, must be because of all the booze. Thank you for finally bringing me out.” You hugged her and started fighting your way through the crowd.

While you were walking, all the memories about your relationship with Tom infected your mind. If anyone asked you right now, you had no idea why you two broke up. You were together for a year and a half. You met him through Zoe. There was a time when she wanted to be a model and she found an aspiring photographer, Harry, who had a brother named Tom. One night, Zoe decided the four of you should go out, and that’s all it took.

Your relationship in the beginning felt like a dream. That first year of your relationship was the best year of your life. The two of you were inseparable. He was everything you ever dreamed of. Handsome, charming, funny, honest. But there was one thing that always scared you about him. He was adventurous and wild, two things you did not have in common. At first you guys worked out. Some nights you would stay home and watch movies and cuddle, which was delightful. Other nights you wanted to please him so you went out clubbing, and sometimes you even went on trips with him and his family. All of this was fine, but as time went by, all of your differences started to become more and more obvious.

It’s like he was the light, the warmest, nicest person you ever met. And you were the complete opposite, often called a “tough one” by everyone who knew you. During the early days, his light was strong enough to bring out the best in you. You started going out more, you were smiling more often and more sincerely. No one knew you like he did. Every time you had a big exam, he was the one encouraging you and going through your notes with you. When you were sick, he was there to help you. And it wasn't like you never reciprocated. You were going through his scripts with him, driving him to auditions. You were his first and biggest fan.

He was an aspiring young actor so he had to have a big social circle. You were just starting your last year of studies, so your main goal was your education. He started filming more and more often outside of Europe, and you slowly started to drift apart. As his career skyrocketed, you felt like the distance wasn’t helping your relationship. He always made sure you were fine. And sometimes you were, sometimes you weren’t. Especially when he was out there, somewhere across the ocean, filming or doing who knew what. He was surrounded by beautiful actresses and models, so some days the jealousy got the best of you. You’d call him and get mad if he didn’t respond right away. Then you’d make up. But after that, he’d get mad at you because you never wanted to go with him to wherever his new film was getting made.

After six months of trying to work things out, you both made the most painful decision of your lives. You both decided to go your separate ways. Sometimes love is just not enough. There were too many things standing in between you. A promise to always check up on each other was made.

The first month without him was the hardest one. You would wake up and check his social media, sometimes you would even text each other. Those were mostly friendly texts, sometimes flirty. But those were the crumbs that kept you up during that whole day.

A month later, he came back to London. And that was when you received a message saying he’d come by your place to pick up some clothes he had left there. However, from the moment he walked in, you knew it wasn’t just about the clothes. Your skin was flushing at the sight of him. Both of you just stood there in silence. You saw the same urge you felt beneath your fingertips in his honey eyes. The aftermath was a battle to see who would cave first.

It was only the first time you had sex after breaking up. You were addicted to his touch. To his tongue. His hands. No one had ever made you feel the way he could.

The second time was after you accidentally met at a pub. There was a magnetic force that led you to him. It was messy, full of excuses and flirty innuendos. In the end, you almost did it in the bathroom, but you were both sane enough to drive back to his place instead. You both insisted there should be no strings attached. Just doing it for the sake of old times. You were the one who told him it didn't mean that you guys were back together.

"I agree," he said as his lips reached for the weak spot on your neck, "it's just for the fun of it."

After that night, you met a few more times. Almost every time you guys would end up breathless, feet tangled in the sheets. And every time you both insisted it was just that – a purely physical release and that there wouldn't be a next time. But as those meetings became more frequent, the more you started thinking about him. You finally realized the only thing you wanted was him. You thought you were ready to change for him. With only one more exam left to pass, you thought to yourself that maybe it was time to start over. Since you wouldn't be under so much pressure, you could follow him while he was filming, travel and get to see what the world had to offer.

You called him only minutes later and told him you should see each other that night. Tom agreed and said he had something important to tell you. You let him go first, since you were too nervous to come clean about your feelings. And that was your biggest mistake.

He told you he was going away for a few months.

And he told you that you should start seeing other people.

Hearing that was a hard punch to the stomach, but you only let yourself gape at him for a few seconds before you shrugged it off.

You wished him luck and that was the last time you saw him. It took you a lot to pick up the pieces. A lot of failed first dates. Some drunk nights. Countless crying nights. It’s been another six months since you last saw him. You knew he was back in London, but you ignored his calls. If you wanted him out of your life, you needed to get him out of your head first. And your phone.

Your hands were wrapped around you as the fresh air caught you. Just as you were about to step out on the balcony, you saw him. He was talking on the phone with someone, smiling. When he looked up at you, his smile grew wider and he winked at you. It was too late for you to just turn around and run away. How could you, your knees felt like they were some overcooked noodles.

He looked different. Dressed in all black. His body was even more muscular than the last time you explored it with your mouth. His curly hair was gone. Short hair looked really good on him. It was a hot summer night so he was wearing a black shirt with a few of his buttons unbuttoned.

“Well hello there,” he said as he finished his phone call.

“Hello to you too.” You didn’t want to risk it, so you kept your distance. If you came any closer to him, there was a chance you’d run into his arms, which was the last thing you wanted.

“So… how have you been?” he asked, hands running through his head. Everything he did it looked so precise, magnetizing, so much so that it kept pulling you closer to him. Every move he made attracted you even more.

“Okay… Good. I finally have my degree. And how about you?” The nervousness you felt was starting to fade. You tried to keep it together and you were sure that there was no way he could feel how his presence made you feel.

“I just finished filming a very emotional movie. So I’m taking a break for a few weeks, maybe months. I missed being home,” That was another thing that drove you crazy about him - how confident he looked while speaking.

“How is everybody?” You finally decided to approach him a little bit. Now you were on the balcony too, but still far enough from him.

“Oh they’re fine. Dad just wrote another book and he actually said he’d like you to read it.”

“Really? Thanks, I'd like that,” you said. You'd always got along with his family and it was another thing you missed about him.

“Also congratulations on your degree! What are your plans now?”

“I don’t know, the sky's the limit. Speaking of plans, I see you decided to join the military!” you pointed at his head and he smiled again.

“It was for the film. I kind of like it now that I got used to it,” he said, running his hands through his head. It made you wonder how it would feel on yours.

Standing here, facing him, watching his every move, you couldn't help but feel like you were trying to tell each other how you were feeling with your eyes. You knew he was glad to see you, because you were too.

“Well it looks really nice on you.” You looked him in the eyes. The alcohol you drank prior this meeting gave you the courage to come a little closer to him. And he looked right back at you. You knew that look he used to give you. It was usually when he was infatuated with you.

“And you look gorgeous tonight.” He took one step closer to you. All of your senses were focused on his perfume. Tom didn’t break eye contact with you. A few moments passed, filled with silence, but it wasn’t awkward; it was comforting. Something about his presence felt so familiar, so warm and sweet.

“Do you remember how you used to dress up for me?” he asked, and you knew very well what he was thinking about. Sometimes you would put on your best lingerie under a sheer lace dress or a robe. This was something you did after he was away for too long, just a little gift for him.

“Yes I do, and I remember how many times you ripped my underwear.” It was something that both annoyed and turned you on.

“And how about that time when we did it in your parents' basement?” he said softly and he was so close now, there were only a few inches between the two of you.

“We only did it because you initiated it,” you decided to play his game. You moved your hair on your shoulder, making sure he could see your neck.

“It was because you did this…” and he did the exact thing you did back then – he put his hands around your waist and brought you closer to him. You could hear him breathing heavily in your ear.

“And you did this.”

You kissed him. Your heart was pounding, you could feel it in your throat. His lips were addictive and after six months, you were finally taking another hit. His hands were still on your waist keeping you flush against him. It was like you couldn’t get enough of him. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this, not after all the promises you made to yourself. But your body and heart wanted him. His tongue was warm and tasted like beer, too irresistible.

He ran his fingers down your back, all the way to your bottom. Tom had never seemed so needy. As his hands finally grabbed both of your ass cheeks, you felt yourself getting wet. You moaned into his mouth and you could feel him smiling. When you finally remembered to breathe, you both stopped kissing, but your heads were still next to each other.

“Your place or mine?” he said, voice deep and needy.

“Yours is closer.”

The drive to his place felt like it lasted for hours. There was music playing, but you weren’t paying any attention to it, you were just watching him drive. He looked so hot when he was focused on the road, slightly smiling because he knew what was about to happen. The longer you looked at him, the more your thighs trembled in anticipation.

As soon as you entered his house, he slammed you into the wall and started kissing you again. His leg was between yours, keeping them apart. Your hands were wrapped around his neck. You were so needy for a release that your hips started instinctively going up and down his leg. You could feel the wet trace you left on his pants. The kiss got messier, and you needed him to touch you.

“I want you so much,” you breathed into his mouth. He tried to get you out of your dress, but the knot on the back was too tight. As he couldn’t wait any longer, he ripped it apart. An old habit of his that you hated right now.

“Alex is going to kill you, this was her dress.”

“I’ll buy her a new one.” He smiled into your neck and left wet kisses where the straps used to be. You held his face between your hands and started kissing him again. You bit his bottom lip, as a punishment for doing something you didn’t like. Everything he did drove you crazy. The way he hummed in your mouth, the way he kissed your neck, the way he cupped your breasts.

You were naked in front of him. He stripped you down all the way. You were exposed but you didn’t feel that way. He stepped back, to look at your whole body. You took this moment to move backwards, trying to find something for better support. You stumbled upon a pair of shoes, but before you could chastise Tom about it, your hand hit the top of the console table. It would have to do.

You could tell by the look on his face he was enjoying himself, smirking at you as you moved. If it was anybody else, you’d probably feel ashamed and would try to cover yourself with your hands, but you didn’t need to do that with him. Besides the many times you hurt each other over the years, he was always the one you felt like you belonged to.

And another thing you knew about him was that he liked to be in control. Which was something you loved. But not tonight.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he blurted out and he smashed his lips on yours again. The kiss was needy and raw, filled with all the lust you still have for each other. He held you by the back of your neck the way he always did, it was like he'd never even left. The twinge between your legs felt just as familiar, especially as he replaced his lips with two of his fingers. He was moving them in and out of your mouth until your saliva started dribbling down your chin. You took his hand and moved it from your mouth all the way down to your pulsating core. There was a slight surprise on Tom’s face, it wasn't usual for you to be this bossy in bed. You were looking him straight in the eyes as he started to fuck you with the two fingers he had had in your mouth just a few seconds ago.

Your pussy was even wetter than your mouth. You used his shoulders to steady yourself and jammed his face against yours, eager to kiss him again. Slow and hard. As he paced his fingers, you started touching his already rock hard dick. You were barely touching his head, but you could hear him moan and he started to gently thrust his hips into your hands. He wanted to be touched and he clearly wanted it now.

“You like that?” you asked him, neither of you stopping your movements.

“Yes,” he moaned in your mouth. He was melting under your touch.

“Good. Go down on me and maybe you’ll get more,” you told him between kisses and stopped touching him. Without any words, he obeyed and kneeled in front of you.

You touched the side of his head gingerly to test his reaction, and he was quick to lean into your touch. Your hips rest against the table, and as he put your left leg over his shoulder to keep you in place, his head moved back too. His buzz cut tickled your skin and you felt pathetic about how much it turned you on. It made your hips tilt forward and without any teasing, Tom went straight to your clit with his tongue. A loud moan escaped your lips. Both of your hands were going up and down his shaved head, all the way down to his neck. He was looking up at you. Just looking at his eyes was enough to make the fire in your clit into an explosion. His tongue was flicking and pulling around your swollen clit until your legs started shaking.

“That feels so good, please keep doing that,” you instructed. His mouth was open wide and he stuck his tongue out. Your hips were buckling, practically riding his wide tongue. You needed more, so you used your arms on the console to hold you steady. It was wobbly, but cradled his head awkwardly between your thighs, letting the prickle of his growing hair spur you on. Your moans only got louder, but you didn’t care if anybody could hear. You just wanted to release the tension in your body. As your movements became more and more eager, he suddenly pulled his head away from you. He helped you hop off from his shoulders and stood up, his face covered in your juices. You were so close to cumming you could barely function.

Stopping was his way to pay you back.

“Turn around,” he whispered in your ear and now it was your turn to obey. From the first moment since you turned around, his hands were wrapped around your waist. Your pussy was throbbing so hard so you instinctively spread your legs apart for him. He unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers. You arched your back even more at the sound of his belt falling on the ground.

Your elbows were between two flower vases, next to the bowl where you knew he usually left his keys. He was about to enter you from behind, you could sense the heat from his cock, twitching against your skin. But he didn’t move any further. It seemed like this was his moment to tease you, and you let him. He started by rubbing the crown of his head between your shoulder blades. You felt his hand snake around your waist like he was holding you in place. The other was stuck in between you as he guided his dick between your legs until the tip found your clit, rubbing it in small circles at first. His movements were so slow that you wouldn’t even feel them if you weren’t already this swollen and sensitive. He cupped your breast with his free hand, moving his dick across your folds with the other. Every time he moved, you could feel your belly clenching. All your muscles were tensing, waiting for him to do something more. You were so close to orgasming for so many times that you couldn’t take any more teasing.

His movements on your clit became faster and faster. Your wetness was spread all the way from his head, down his length and on his hand. His movements became too intense for you, both of your legs were shaking and at one point you felt like you were about to faint. Your clit was overstimulated, but at the same time you felt so empty. You needed him inside you.

“Tom… just stop,” you said breathlessly.

“Stop what?” he said as he finally stopped moving.

“Just stop teasing and fuck me already.” And at those words, he slammed into you. You gasped at the strength of his thrust. It hurt, but it hurt so sweetly. He was so, so deep inside you, and you were wet. Welcoming. Pleased by the stretch of his member. Your screams were mixed with his loud moans. He was never very vocal in bed, so this turned you on even more.

“Do you like that?” Tom asked you.

“Yes, just keep doing that.”

He was thrusting into you. His dick was getting all the way out and then back in, balls deep. His groans were filled with pleasure. You were clenching and tightening around his length. Waves of immense pleasure hit you as his movements became faster.

The hand that was cupping your breast fell down on your ass. His free hand went back to your clit, helping you to finally achieve your climax. His touch this time was light, he knew just what he previously did to you and that you didn’t need much stimulation to explode in his hands. You could feel it closer than ever. His hands were all over your ass and hips, guiding them fast and hard into him. His fingers were so wet so he was spreading the wetness up and down between your cheeks with his thumb. If he wanted, he could just put it in with ease. It was something that always excited you anyway.

After so much teasing, a warm crash of pleasure hit you from high above. At that moment, Tom let his finger slip into your ass. The unexpectedness and the pleasure of it all made you cry out loud. And with a few more shallow thrusts you were about to finally come.

“Tom… I’m gonna…,” but you couldn’t finish your sentence. Your orgasm hit you hard and you started shaking. You finally lost control over your body. The immense pleasure and the urge to pee were the only thing you could feel. You’d never felt like this. He wasn’t moving now save for his thumb, helping you come down from your high.

“It’s okay,” he told you while holding you as you started to calm down. Your wetness was leaking on both of your legs. “How do you do this to me, Y/N?” he asked while starting to move again inside of you, slowly this time.

“I don’t feel like this with anybody else,” you whispered, drawing your hips forward so he would slip out. Then you turned around and kissed him. He slid his tongue into your mouth and you sucked it. You hopped onto the table, facing him, your legs wrapped around him instinctively. His lips left yours and started kissing your jaw all the way to your ear.

“Me neither,” he whispered in your hair while he kissed your ear.

“Come inside me,” you whispered back and he slid back in. Your hands were on the small of his back, guiding him into you. He was already deep in, but you somehow wanted more of him. You wanted this moment to stay forever. He was hugging you while thrusting slowly and deeply. It only lasted a few more seconds and he couldn’t hold it anymore. With moans and grunts, you watched and felt him let go. He was shivering and pulling you close.

Once he finished, you were both quiet. He licked his lips and kissed you again. His sperm was starting to leak out of you so he had to pull out, even though you both didn’t want this feeling to ever stop.

“Wait I’ll bring you a towel,” he said and started to pull up his pants, but they were all wet from the way you'd squirted when he was fucking you. You even felt a little ashamed since this was the first time you'd made this big of a mess, but Tom was quick to reassure you. Just as you were about to say you were sorry, Tom put his finger on your lips and told you, “It’s unbelievably sexy how hard you came, don’t worry about this.”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” you mimicked his previous joke, and you both smiled at each other. He took one moment just to look at you, silently and then finally went to get some towels.

You both cleaned yourselves in silence, smiling at each other from time to time or stealing glances. Tom also brought you his shirt and shorts. Once you were both dressed, you hugged each other again. For the first time in months, you felt happy. It was like you expressed all of your emotions through sex. All of your anger and sadness were gone. He cupped your chin and pecked your lips.

But his eyes went from smiling to looking very sad. You could feel the tears forming in yours as well.

“Why didn’t you return any of my calls?” he asked, breaking the comforting silence.

“Fuck Tom, do we have to do this right now?” you asked and stepped away from the hug. He didn’t answer so you continued, “I don’t know, maybe ‘cause you wanted to see other people?”

“I only wanted that because you were the one who broke up with me and insisted that everything after the breakup was just sex.”

“And you were the one travelling around the world!" you boomed. "You got scared. You decided that we should try to be with someone else instead of talking things through and finding some way to work things out.”

Another silent moment. But this time it wasn’t comforting at all. You were standing on opposite sides of his room. You were scared he’d hurt you again.

“Okay, I got scared,” you were just about to leave when you heard him, “I got scared that I’ll be the one holding you down. That maybe you’ll find someone who you can be with, someone who will always be here for you and fulfill all your needs. I want you. I’ve always wanted you. And you were the one who always wanted us to hook up casually, so I thought maybe you didn’t want any strings attached while I’m away. And that was my stupid way of letting you go. But I can’t let you go. I keep thinking about you. When I’m alone, when I’m with someone else… It’s always about you.”

“I wanted to go away with you,” you were finally able to say something back. After all this time, you told him what you'd wanted to say that night he left. The night he took your heart and shattered it. And now here he was, snapping the pieces back together at last. Fixing the puzzle he had scrambled before, pumping it back to life until it was pounding hard in your chest. So hard you could barely hear your own thoughts.

“What?” Tom asked, but you couldn’t repeat what you just said. “Do you still want to?” He approached you, his eyebrows furrowed. He wasn’t too close, like he was afraid to pull you back in and touch you. You nodded.

After that nod, he hugged you.

You smiled into his neck. And a strong tug in your gut made you daring enough to think that you two might work out this time.

#tom holland #tomholland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland one shot #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #mcufam #tom holland fandom #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb

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realcube · 3 years

Text

rq; could you possibly write a one shot about the reader having AD(H)D and has a really hard time focusing on core academics (math, science, english, history) because they feel scared about stimming and/or fidgeting in front of people and so they ask tamaki for help?

tw; very mild angst, fluff, stimming, i use the word ‘embrassing’ too much, swearing

words; 2.7k

it only took a moment of skimming over your latest progress report for you to understand the situation.

you continued to thrive in practical subjects like physical education, graphic design and manufacturing — the three main reasons you managed to secure your spot in the support course — but your core subjects seemed to be lacking.

for the last two years, you managed to score flying colours in all your subjects. but now, it was starting to appear as though your golden era was coming to a close. what was once a report with only scores greater than 90%, was now a range of totals anywhere from 90 to 50%.

this meant you were still passing all of your classes but these grades were only indications of how you were doing now; you knew that if you continued to struggle in all of your core courses, you might not finish your third year of UA highschool.

you simply wouldn't allow for your grades to decline further, so like any good student would, you made a list of ways you could improve.

number one was, of course, study more. however, you were almost certain that discipline and diligence aren't the causes of the issue.

number two was to ask for help from your teacher and although this was a completely valid option, you still felt like the problem ran deeper than your ability to comprehend the material. after all, you had made it this far without having to do so.

before you could even ponder number three, your pen ran out of ink. with a huff, you reach out to grab a new one from your pencil case, until you noticed that in the spot where your pencil case usually sits on your desk, there was nothing.

it was as though the void had caused all your memories of yesterday to come crashing down on you in an instant; it was almost nauseating. yet it, ironically, provided some clarity as to the location of your stationary.

two days ago, after school, you paid a visit to tamaki's house to deliver the gear he had commissioned. however, what was initially meant to be a casual interaction, somehow turned into a game of pictionary (with mirio and nejire there too, of course), for which you needed to bring your pencil case out of your bag. amidst your awkward goodbyes, you must've forgotten to put it back into your bag, hence your pencil case is probably lying dejected on tamaki's coffee table.

this left you with no choice but to throw on your jacket and begin your journey to tamaki's house. fortunately, he only lived a bus ride away from your home, yet you still mentally rebuked yourself for the whole length of aforementioned bus ride due to the fact that every time you would interact with tamaki, it felt like you were digging a deeper grave for yourself.

partially because you always found yourself oversharing with him — not that it was a one-sided ordeal — and you couldn't begin to explain why; he kinda just had a comforting aura about him. albeit you haven’t said anything embarrassing yet but the possibility of that happening was way too large. plus taking into consideration your complicated feelings for each other, leaving your pencil case at his house was a disaster waiting to occur.

or perhaps you were overthinking it. either way, you were now standing in front of his door with your school uniform and backpack on during a saturday afternoon because you had no idea what else to wear.

after ringing the doorbell, you stood as a patient statue in the cold until tamaki reluctantly opened the door and only poked his head out. “hello?”

emphasis on ‘only’, because he was truly committed to not allowing you to see him in his casual-wear, for some reason. a part of him reasoned that there was no way you would expect him to be wearing his school uniform on a saturday, but the majority of his brain was screaming about how he had to hide his clothes from you at all costs. especially since he was wearing socks, comfy trackpants and — most shamefully — a sweater with a small octopus design on it. and what would you think of him if you saw that his choice in loungewear was so childish?! it would be utterly humiliating.

completely unaware that tamaki was having a crisis behind the door, you pulled your most authentic smile and said the line you had been rehearing on the bus, “hi, tamaki. sorry for coming unannounced, but i think i left my pencil case on your coffee table when we were playing pictionary with mirio and nejire.”

“oh.” tamaki was almost too panicked to process what you just said but once he did, he immediately recalled the moment he noticed that you had left behind your pencil case. at the time, he planned on calling you to ask if he could drop it off at your house, but his nerves got the better of him and he decided to keep procrastinating the call until he completely forgot.

though, if he remembered correctly, the pencil case should be lying on his desk after he moved it there in hopes that the convenient location would remind him to return it; which it evidently did not.

“yeah. uh, i’ve got it. i’ll just go get it.” his face tingled with warmth slightly as he retracted it from the doorway, resulting in him finally realising how cold it is outside. in fact, since the eaves of his house shielded you for the climate, he didn’t even notice that it was snowing!

the polite bone in him got to work before the rest of him could react, as he blurted out, “come in, make yourself at home.”

fuck! i mean, it’s not that he doesn’t want you in his house — quite the opposite actually — but rather now he had to dart off to his bedroom before you could catch a glimpse of his sweater. but at least now this gave him an opportunity to change into something less embarrassing.

closing the door behind you, you were now left alone in tamaki’s living room. your eyes followed his figure as he dashed towards his bedroom, “odd.” you murmured to yourself. you weren’t exactly tamaki’s BFF but you were close enough to him that you could tell when he was acting weird.

but you didn’t think to much of it. actually, you were slightly grateful for this weird spike in tamaki’s behaviour because if he doesn’t want you around, that just means you are less likely to overshare and catch feelings, which means better outcomes in the long run, right?

after changing into a plain blue sweater and collecting your pencil case, tamaki strolled into the living room and handed it to you with a weak smile, “here you go.” he almost whispered, patiently waiting for your response so he could mentally prepare himself for goodbyes or another hour (or so) of conversation.

“thank you!” you basically squealed, pulling off your bag to stuff your pencil case back inside. while adjusting the straps on your shoulders, you took a moment to appreciate tamaki’s familiar attire, “oh, i love your sweater; i have a similar one with a cute little octopus on it.”

tamaki concluded that neither of you would be saying goodbye for a long while.

“thank you.” he responded with a soft smile, folding his arms over his chest as he made his way towards the kitchen, “um, so how are you?” he inquired, assuming that it was a pretty harmless question that would simply help get the conversation off the ground while he prepared tea.

“i’m good. but i don’t think i can say the same for my progress report.” you said with an awkward chuckle, standing aside as you watched tamaki put the kettle on. “and how are y--”

“what do you mean?” tamaki asked, disregarding the fact that he didn’t answer the question himself. although, simply put, this was because he found that conversation came more naturally to him when he was with you; or perhaps that is a slight overstatement. he tended to be more curious and inquisitive when talking to you and it wasn’t hard to tell.

until now you and mirio simply brushed it off as tamaki’s interest towards the support course, since you were the one who manufactured most of his gear. yet nejire always teased him as she believed that tamaki’s interest was caused by a different sort of passion.

nevertheless, regardless of tamaki’s motives, you still found yourself consistently answering his questions, “eh, well, i’ve just not been performing as well as i hoped.” you replied plainly with a shrug.

“is that all?”

no matter how many questions he asked, each one still managed to catch you off-guard. “um,” your throat ran dry, which might’ve been a sign from a deity to stop talking, but your swallowing was your way of proving that you did not care. although you will probably regret it later, talking with tamaki always relieved you.

“well,” you started, the lump in your throat growing by the second, “i guess i have a bit of trouble focussing in some classes too. but i mean, maybe it is because i drink too much caffeine? i’m not even sure to be honest.” that was lie, you were 90% sure of what the problem was, but you wanted to hear tamaki’s response before you proceeded, to determine whether he’d be open-minded about it.

“there is no such thing as too much caffeine.” he joked, handing you a cup of tea while he sipped on his own. “so it’s probably something else.”

he’s too good. it’s as if he knew you were withholding information.

“well,” you began once more, trying your best to appear clueless, “i guess moving helps me focus, but no once else in the class does it so wouldn’t it be embarrassing if i was the only one?”

“i don’t think it would be embarrassing at all.” he spoke softly, leading you back into the living room and offer you a seat on the couch beside him, which you graciously accepted. “but if you think it is, then i have something to help.”

before you could say anything, tamaki got up and headed towards his bedroom; leaving you to drink his heavenly tea while he searched. though, only a few minutes passed before you felt his arms slither over your shoulders to hook two clips together by your neck.

“there.” he said with a proud smile, “this is one of my cloaks that i use in my hero costume. you can tie it together so it covers the whole front half of your body.”

observing your reflection in the blackened TV, you smiled upon seeing for your own eyes that everything he said was true. it was like wearing a cape that goes around your whole body, and it had a nice hood! “wow, this is so adorable!” you cheered, then paused, “but how is it going to help me focus?”

“well, you can do whatever you want underneath it and no one will notice.”

ignoring the shady implications of that sentence, you moved your hand around underneath the cloak and he was right! no one would see you fidgeting underneath the cloak, and hopefully the professor’s voice would cover any sounds you made. plus, it looked pretty badass.

“this might work! are cloaks included in dress-code?” you joked, but you weren’t laughing for long as you turned to look at tamaki who was wearing an upset expression with his head hung low, “no.”

“oh.” you sighed, unclipping the cloak and handing it back to tamaki with a slight smile, “it’s fine. thank you for your help, and the tea. it was delicious, but i’ll probably have to start cutting back on the caffeine.” you gave it a chef’s kiss yet he didn’t even chuckle like he usually does. it was almost scary how your true emotions reflected onto him, as it seemed like the whole atmosphere had changed.

“(y/n).” tamaki uttered with a much more serious tone; eyes filled with determination yet trained onto the cloak in his hands. “you shouldn’t be embarrassed-- or at least, I, um, don’t think you should be.”

your eyes widened at how sternly he said the first part; granted, he became flustered when it came to the second part, but it really showed you how firmly he stood by what he was saying. you nodded for him to continue as he looked like he still had a lot on his mind.

“it’s unfair that you have trouble focussing because of what other people think. so my two cents is that you should do whatever you need to do, and, um, not care about other people... well, i mean, you should care about them, but just not what they think about you. because like, you can’t really control that--”

he found himself having to abruptly shut his mouth to stop himself from prattling on any further. especially since most of what he was saying was probably none sense that he mistook for inspirational, or at least that is what he gathered from the shocked look you wore; it was ironic how humiliated he was.

“that’s nice to hear.” you hummed, a kind smile gracing your features in place of the previous stunned expression, “though it’s hard to believe coming from someone as cool as you, tamaki.”

“cool?”

“yeah.” you chuckled, rolling your eyes at his baffled look which he must have been faking. surely he knows how highly thought of and respected he is throughout the whole school. he is in the big three, for fucks’ sake! “there is probably a better word to describe it, but you are one of the most badass people i know.”

“badass?” it was as if all he was capable of doing was repeating these words to you with an innocent yet confused gaze.

“yes!” you enthused, “so, is there anything you even have to be embarrassed about?”

“i do!” he almost whined, and without thinking, he stormed to his bedroom only to grab the sweater he cast aside earlier to show it to you, “look! an octopus sweater, isn’t this embarrassing?”

you deadpanned, unsure as to whether he was joking or not. “stimming is very different from a octopus sweater but go on.” however after a few moments of actually analysing the design on the article of clothing, you exclaimed, “oi, i have that exact same sweater! how is a cute little octopus embarrassing? plus, it would be extra cute on you because you have tentacles.”

in a moment of frustration and wanting to prove a point, he threw the sweater aside and began to sheepishly grab at the ends of his sleeves, “well, you know what’s even more embarrassing? having a crush on someone for three whole years and not having the balls to ask them out! and on top of that, being to nervous to return my crush’s stuff after you left it at my house.”

you weren’t sure if he meant to switch out ‘my crush’ with ‘you’ on purpose or if he was just confused. either way, you found yourself leaning in to wrap the poor boy in an overdue embrace, smiling against his chest as he hugged back. “that was..” you faltered, allowing tamaki to interject with “mortifying” but you were quick to correct him, “i think that was a very unique way to confess, and i'm just glad you did.”

your chuckle that followed was left to echo around the room as tamaki stood still and silent, simply enjoying the comfort in your arms as feeling the pleasure of time escape him. until eventually he whispered close to your ear, “so since i know more about embarrassment than you thought, will you take my advice now?”

you snickered, gently tracing shapes onto his back, “i was going to take your advice either way because if i don’t get good grades and remain in the support course, how will i graduate with you?”

“good point.” he hummed, not-so silently enjoying the relaxing sensations near his spine, “but we are not wearing matching octopus hats.”

how did manage to shoot down your idea before you even proposed it?

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