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fangswbenefits · 4 months

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Backfire

(amazing art by @dopepoisonivyoncrack 🥺🩷 thank you so much!)

Summary: You should have known better than to make Astarion jealous, and now you are left to deal with the consequences.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Jealous/Possessive Astarion. Orgasm denial. Fingering. Edging. PiV. Creampie. Knife (dagger) play. Body worship. Innuendo.

Word count: 3.4k

You vaguely wondered how long it would take to set Astarion off.

He was glancing at you from across the camp, leaning against an oak tree as he twirled a dagger in between his masterful fingers.

The fluid motion broke your concentration for a moment.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and you quickly realised he was aware of your attempts.

Shit.

So much for subtlety.

Maybe you should have picked Wyll to test his jealousy as you reckoned it would have been more effective.

But now it was too late.

You feigned innocence as you patted Gale's arm, mindlessly nodding as he happily explained the intricacies of a chicken broth that he was preparing for later.

“See, the essence of this dish lies in getting the proper ingredients,” he went on, dipping the ladle into the steaming pot and stirring it gently before bringing it to his lips. “Hmm. Definitely lacking something, as I suspected.”

“Really? It smells very pleasant,” you said truthfully as the soft breeze wafted the delectable fragrance your way.

Gale raised one finger. “Mushrooms.”

“What?”

He nodded. “It requires a touch of mushrooms to fully bring out its flavour.”

You patted his shoulder with a warm smile. “I’m sure we can do without it.”

But Gale’s enthusiasm immediately wavered, his brows sinking. “Absolutely not. We require a proper meal and a proper meal is what I shall provide.”

Oh.

He stirred the broth again before rummaging through a satchel at his feet. “Well, I don’t suppose you could fetch me a few?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you found that Astarion had vanished.

Shit.

Your plan shattered into pieces as the object of your teasing was nowhere to be seen.

“Could you?”

Gale’s voice snapped you out of your frustration and you found yourself frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I need some mushrooms, my friend.”

Your frown deepened, but you really had no choice now and a refusal would most likely break his heart.

“Where can I find them?”

Gale beamed with a wide grin. “I spotted a few on the side of the road and near some trees as we were setting up camp. I was foolish enough not to pick them and now I’m burdening you.”

You shrugged with a sigh. “It’s no bother. I was the one who asked you to teach me some of your cooking tricks.

“Ah! You should have trained to become a wizard,” he said with an approving nod. “A hungry stomach and an equally hungry mind.”

As much as you wished to return his enthusiasm, you couldn’t help but to feel annoyed at yourself for the appalling attempt at riling Astarion up.

Maybe he had seen right through it and merely walked off, probably chuckling.

But maybe you had stirred something inside him that ultimately caused him to leave.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

You followed Gale’s instructions, nearing a forest area, shaded from the sun as the canopies of the surrounding trees grew denser and branches intertwined with each other above you.

It didn’t take you long to spot a conglomerate of a few rounded caps by the protruding roots of a large and thick oak tree.

Unsheathing your dagger, you squatted down and began dicing through the spongy stalks.

You were halfway through your task, when you felt the cold press of metal resting on the side of your neck, freezing you in place.

A smile crept across your face.

“I don’t suppose you value your life enough if it’s this easy to sneak up on you.” The blade moved upwards and along your jaw, causing you to turn your head. “Darling.”

You flinched away from Astarion’s grasp and both of you rose to your feet in an instant.

“I doubt any foe would be as delicate as you should they intend to truly harm me.”

He twirled his dagger, offering a devious smile. “Point taken.”

As expected, praising him always did wonders.

And it was absolutely true and equally expected that a skilled rogue could move in the shadows with unmatched prowess.

But then, the mood shifted as he deepened his smile. “What were you doing back there with Gale?”

Oh?

You cleared your throat, sheathing your blade once again at your hip. “I was merely observing his cooking skills.”

He took a step in your direction.

“Were you, now?”

“Yes.”

He scoffed. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, darling.”

You allowed yourself to move back with each step he took. “And you’re not as perceptive as you think you are.”

“You weren’t trying to deliberately make me jealous, were you?”

You shook your head, feeling your heart drumming hastily in your chest.

Astarion’s feet only came to a brief halt once your back hit the rough surface of the tree trunk behind you, effectively rendering you immobile.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

A shameless lie that he immediately tackled. “A lousy liar who’s even worse at vexing me,” he tutted before pressing one knee right in between your legs. “I taught you better than this.”

The air in your lungs stilled momentarily as his arms were now on either side of your head, caging you.

“Gale was the one offering his teachings.”

He dropped one hand below your chin, tapping it teasingly with the side of his blade and tilting your head back. “Please. I highly doubt that dullard could offer anything of value where it really counts.”

“Astarion…” you drawled in delight. “Are you actually jealous?”

His brows furrowed together. “Obviously not.”

Inside, you were thoroughly enjoying how your fleeting attempt had indeed been successful, despite Astarion’s denial.

You could see it in his narrowed crimson eyes and how the faintest of scowls deepened the lines on his handsome face.

That stroked your ego in a way that almost made you shudder.

You tried to ignore how he was now pressing his knee harder.

His lips almost brushed against your and, for a split second, you thought he was going to kiss you, but he tipped his head to the side and you felt his cold touch on your cheek.

A shiver ran down your spine and you gripped his arms.

“What are you doing?”

He chuckled. “Showing you what really counts.”

“And what is that?” you asked, words coming out shaky.

Astarion adored taunting you with words, but he excelled at rendering you speechless with his skilled touch.

So it came as no surprise when eventually sheathed his blade and had his hand tug your shirt free from the waistband of your trousers, sliding his hand underneath.

This was bad for you.

Terrible, in fact.

He had the upper hand.

And he fucking knew it.

His fingers brushed along your lower abdomen and his voice was raspy in your ear. “If I slide my hand inside… what will I find?”

Your body was too used to him by now to the point that he could have you throbbing for him with little effort.

The knee dropped and you almost whined at the loss of friction against your swelling clit.

“Answer me,” he said, tugging at the waistband.

You swallowed. “Nothing much…”

Was there even a point in deceiving him now?

Expert fingers tugged at the lacings, loosening the fabric just enough for him to be able to slip underneath, his fingertips gently gliding in between your folds, avoiding your clit altogether.

But you were wet enough to draw a pleased grunt from him.“What is this, then?”

You gasped, involuntarily clenching around nothing and feeling a gush of wetness spilling as your body reacted in anticipation.

“Use your fingers properly and find out.”

Your taunt didn’t go amiss. “Maybe an apology is in order,” he said, arrogance dripping from each word. “It seems that your foolish attempt at making me jealous has backfired.”

Much to your frustration, your hips rolled into his touch, silently wishing he would stop avoiding your swell.

“How has it backfired?” you managed to say as one finger teased your entrance.

He ignored your question and began trailing kisses along your jawline, his other hand working hurriedly at the front of your shirt.

Of course.

You knew all too well that you’d feel his cock hard enough if he was already this eager to expose your breasts.

One by one, he undid each lacing, and he pulled back just enough for his gaze to drop as the fabric parted and he gently pulled down the binding that held your chest in place.

Your nipples quickly hardened and you rolled your hips once more, causing one of his fingers to slide inside.

He hadn’t intended for that to happen, but he was so transfixed with your breasts that he was caught off guard.

It was the vicious clenches around his finger that snapped him out of it and his lustful eyes met yours. “Give me one reason not to slide out of you.”

You smiled in between gasps as he sank deep inside. “Should I ask Gale what he’d do in your position, then?”

And just like that, Astarion snapped.

A second finger slithered past your tightness and he brought his lips to your ear. “Careful, darling. Choose your words wisely or you’ll be riding your own mage hand instead.”

Oh, this was delicious.

Astarion was visibly annoyed and it did wonders to your confidence.

It wasn’t easy to get him all worked up, but it only fueled your ego and made you quicken the pace.

Your whimpers increased in intensity and you looped your arms around his neck for added support, lifting one leg to wrap around his waist. The new angle allowed him to go knuckle-deep and you shuddered as his strained erection pressed against his hand nudged him even deeper.

He groaned first, clearly enjoying the newfound friction, and you clenched hard at how his face twisted in pleasure.

“Look over my shoulder,” he suddenly said, his half-hooded eyes finding yours.

Somehow, and in between each roll of your hips, you complied, realising just how close to camp you truly were. Close enough to make out the silhouette of Shadowheart who was now at Gale’s side as he worked on his broth, probably wondering what was taking you so long to bring him some mushrooms.

“What about it?” you asked, a bit louder than intended when he sank all the way in once more.

His lips brushed against yours this time, dragging his fingers back as you clenched desperately around him. “You either keep it down or we’ll have an audience soon enough.”

“Would you mind?”

He stilled abruptly.

“What? Having Gale hear you coming undone for me?” he taunted as you tried to have him back inside, your hips following his retreating hand. “That he would soon realise he could never provide such bliss to his lover?”

You whined in responde, frustrated that you were now faced with an agonising emptiness.

“See, darling,” he continued, sliding one finger back inside, but not quite deep enough to fully satisfy you. “I can be quite generous when I want to.”

“But what?” you groaned, trying to have him sink deeper to no avail.

There was always a ‘but’.

He placed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling back. “But I am not willing to share your cries of pleasure with anyone else.”

“Then silence me.”

The most devious grin settled on his face and you knew you had just offered a challenge he would gladly take.

And with his other hand, you watched as he brought the handle of his dagger close to your lips.

“Open.”

Your eyes widened and your heart immediately skipped a beat. “Astarion…”

“As much as I’d love to have your lips wrapped around my cock,” he said with a click of his tongue, parting your lips for him. “I am more interested in finding out how quiet my dagger can make you.”

You clenched around him so fiercely he actually growled.

Your teeth sank into the handle and you readied yourself for what was to come.

Astarion trailed your lower lip affectionately as it wrapped around the leather wrappings and a second finger joined the first, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit as he pumped in and out, never breaking eye contact with you.

The moans and whimpers and gasps that slipped from you were being effectively muffled and you were thankful he had decided to silence you this way, because when the third finger nudged at your entrance, you could only roll your eyes shut as your bit hard around his dagger.

“Surely you can take one more,” he teased, his voice low.

You eagerly nodded, rolling your hips into him, knowing you were more than ready for the added thickness.

It slid inside painfully slowly and the stretch had you gasping and nearly dropping his dagger, which he promptly secured in place.

“Now, I know it’s not as thick as my cock, but I am sure you can keep those pretty lips wrapped around it,” he taunted.

You groaned with a nod eager to please.

Eager to come undone for him.

The combination of being so full of him and how he allowed you to rub your clit on his palm was too much. The lewd sounds were almost too obscene and you gripped both hands together, holding onto the remainder of the sanity you had left.

For a brief moment, he allowed you to ride three of his fingers, giving you the illusion that you’d reach your peak easily and rather quickly.

But Astarion wasn’t forgiving even if he had been rather generous thus far.

And you should have known that your actions would have consequences.

His generosity came to an abrupt halt just as you felt the familiar coil down below becoming more and more overwhelming, your body quickly reaching the point of no return.

Your gasps were now becoming more erratic and you were visibly struggling to keep a hold of the dagger in your mouth.

And then you felt a painful emptiness as he pulled out from you at once.

He chuckled when you groaned in sheer frustration, not allowing you to spit the dagger out and curse him to the Nine Hells.

You felt the urge to cry as he denied you from reaching your high, your hips still moving on their own accord in the hopes of finding his fingers again.

“Now, now,” he tutted, caressing your flushed cheek with his thumb, a single tear streaming down your face. “You didn’t think I would be that generous, did you?”

Fuck you!

Your words came out muffled, but he understood enough to continue his taunt. “I know you want to, but not before I have some assurances first.”

Impatience took over you, but you managed to arch an inquisitive brow at him.

He pressed his lips where his thumb had been, kissing your tear away. “Tell me no one can make you feel like this.”

Your eyes widened once more as he pulled the dagger from your teetering teeth.

“I’m all pointy ears, love,” he urged, meeting your eyes. “Go on.”

Astarion adored being praised, but this was just cruel.

Your teasing hadn’t been solid enough to warrant such punishment. You had been so close to your peak…

“Astarion…”

He shook his head with a frown. “No, no, no. You do not get ‘cuddly and sweet Astarion’ after what you’ve pulled, sweetheart.”

Your hands came to grip his shoulders almost pleadingly, but you knew you had no other choice if you were to reach your climax anytime soon.

“No one can… no one…” you whispered, your voice cracking.

But he wasn’t satisfied.

Of course he wasn’t.

It took more than that to fill his ego.

“I’ve ruined you for anyone else,” he said with an intense smile. “You know that, don’t you?”

You immediately nodded, fully agreeing and not out of despair.

“Can you be good for me, then?”

Another nod as you tried to nudge him closer with the leg wrapped around his waist just to prove your point.

“Your pleasure is mine,” he said, bringing the handle of his dagger back to your lips and, this time, you quickly wrapped them around it. “My pleasure is yours.”

He removed his hand from inside your trousers and he pushed your leg down so he could tug them down your legs to give him better access.

Once you had slipped out of them, he eagerly wrapped you around his waist as he tugged at the front of his own trousers, until he freed his cock.

You gave it a quick glance, pleased to find the tip glistening with precum.

“Bite down hard, darling,” he warned, aligning you with him. “I know you adore how my cock stretches you.”

You did as you were told and he sank into you in one swift thrust of his hips.

He was all the way in and your back arched as he steadied you with both hands.

The first clenches around his cock made him mumble a string of curses as he tried to adjust to your tightness.

It didn’t take long for him to set the pace, slowly fucking you against the oak tree.

You weren’t going to last long from this new angle, and neither was he. It would be rather easy to get him to lose all control if you lost yours first. Astarion was rarely able to withstand your contractions as you rode out your climax.

His eyes were locked on yours, but something caught your attention.

Suddenly, your hazy eyes managed to focus on the camp nearby and you watched as someone seemed to be approaching in the distance.

Oh… fuck…

Was it Gale?

No.

It was Wyll.

You clenched around him almost panicking, until you realised he wasn’t coming any closer and had simply taken a turn down the hill, waving at Gale.

Your mind was too overtaken by how his cock felt inside you to care about the context of that exchange.

Having Astarion being so eager to prove you that no one else could fuck you this way, had you undulating your body against his, always making sure he could bure himself fully inside you with each thrust.

Oh.

You were too close.

“Eyes on me,” he hissed, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips.

Dangerously close.

Especially when you met his crimson eyes again.

And you almost topped over the edge at once when you saw him doing something you had never witnessed before.

He finally broke eye contact and his gaze was once again on your breasts and hardened nipples.

And then…

With his free hand, he pulled his own shirt up the length of his body, securing the hem in between his own teeth, fangs digging into the fabric.

What…

He wrapped his arm around your torso and pulled you into him, your breasts pressed against him. The sight was breathtaking as you felt your nipples rub briefly against his, earning a guttural groan from him.

Astarion allowed you to sink all the way down his cock and you could no longer hold back the intense wave of pleasure that came crashing down as you felt his balls pressed against you.

You were biting down so fiercely on the handle of his dagger, you feared youd snap it in half as your first contractions tore through your body.

He pressed your back hard against the tree, and with a final grunt into the crook of your neck, he began spilling inside you, allowing you to squeeze his cum with each of your rhythmic clenches.

You clawed at the back of his shirt, feeling your mind blank as you came down from the overwhelming height of your pleasure mixed with his.

It was hard to steady your breaths and you weren’t sure you had ever come this hard in your life, but it felt like a shared sentiment as Astarion remained buried inside you even when his cum began to spill and drip.

The dagger fell to the ground and you gasped for air, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head through his messy curls.

“Gods…” he eventually groaned, showing no intention of pulling out.

You grunted in agreement, caressing his damp hair.

“Should I tease you again?” you almost chuckled in between heated pants. “Wyll next?”

He pulled back and shot you a murderous glare. “Don’t you dare…”

Masterlist

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader

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cassie48 · 2 months

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𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝗵𝗱𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲

Dark! Paul Atreides x fem crybaby!Reader

Where in the midst of a crowd, you, the Mahdis wife, get shoved by accident, and Paul isn’t so happy about that.

𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

Paul usually didn’t let you out of his sight, he knew better. It always ended up badly, someone would hurt you, or hurt your feelings, and you’d cry. Like you always did.

But you had 𝘉𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 him to go for a walk with your friends. Fremen friends that you had known longer than you’d known him. He had only met you two years ago. But once he met you, he claimed he’s had visions of your pretty face, standing in the desert, smiling at him with your gorgeous smile.

He claimed you were to be 𝘏𝘪𝘴. So he married you mere days after you’d met. Stilgar having no problems with it as apparently it was in the prophecy, also known as Stilgars obsession.

You wanted to marry him though, you felt connected to him. There’s wasn’t many people that had put up with your emotional personality, but oh how he 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 it. He loved seeing tears in your eyes as you’d cling to him, burying your small face in his chest, how minor things he’d do for you made you emotional, and most of all how you relied on him to make you feel better.

So that’s why you barely went anywhere without him, it was really just easier for everyone. All the Fremen held huge respect for you as you were the wife of their messiah. No one 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 to merely touch you.

So on this particular day, you had begged your husband to let you go with your friends for a few hours. Inside the ancient temple of your sietch, all your people would gather and celebrate. It was an annual day. Celebrating your cultures and beliefs.

Crowds would gather and people would mingle, meeting and seeing friends. It was just an all round fun day. But this one wasn’t.

It had started off quite well. Paul allowed you to meet your friends for an hour or so, making you promise you’d meet him at home later on. You gladly did, kissing his cheek and leaving to see your friends.

Once you did, you and your friends gathered talking and dancing for what felt like forever. After a while you knew you probably should leave to meet your husband.

Paul had joined the celebrations, as he was their mahdi. He had been watching you for a while, making sure you were alright. When he saw you making your way through the crowds he began to walk too, so he’d meet you halfway.

The crowds were pushy, 𝘛𝘰𝘰 pushy for you clearly, as you took a step but we’re roughly shoved by a man on your right. You went flying face first onto the ground, hitting your head when your did.

The man turned to yell at you

“Watch it you- Oh my lady, I-I apologise deeply!” He yelled, not realising it was you. He was a dead man and he knew it.

Mad if he wasn’t already 6 foot under from his actions, to top it off completely, you began to cry, actually you began to ball your eyes out.

The entire sietch became quiet. Many around you quickly tried to help you up, but you were having none of it, and if anything it made you cry harder. The man that knocked you began to shake in fear as he saw Paul make his way to the scene.

The people had never seen their Mahdi with such a hateful and raged look. He shoved passed people in the cowds to get to you. Once he did he bent down to your bleeding face, wiping your blood and tears before picking you up in his arms, giving one last glance to the man that had caused your accident.

“Make sure he waits outside my tent” he growled to three Fremen on his left, before swiftly turning and leaving with you in his arms.

You cried the entire way back to your tent, clinging onto your husband as your face stung. Once you two arrived, he put you into bed, sitting down beside your lying form.

“You must stop crying my love, it’s alright now” Paul said kissing your forehead gently, wiping stray tears on your cheeks.

“Don’t waste them” he muttered.

You did as he said, but still slight hiccups every few minutes remains. “My head hurts” you whispered with an unhappy look on your face.

“This is why I don’t like you out of my reach” he told you, tucking you under the sheets.

“I know Paul, I’m sorry” she said holding back tears at the thoughts of upsetting him.

He smiled at you tenderly, before giving you a gentle kiss, and letting you fall asleep in bed.

He angrily turned towards the tents exit. He took the man waiting outside fearfully in his arms, dragging him away from your sleeping form.

Once he was out of hearing distance from you, Paul shoved the man onto the ground. Taking out a knife, and placing it at his neck.

“How dare you harm hug wife” Paul yelled.

“Mahdi I- it was an accident!” He said almost crying.

“It don’t care. 𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦, harms her, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.” He yelled, before yanking the knife away from his neck, giving him a tiny knife before plunging the knife into the man’s side, and getting up and walking back to you.

Many Fremen watched, not daring to say anything. They knew better. They knew what he was like when it came to you.

Paul made his way back to your drowsy form, half asleep in your bed. “Paul you whispered” with a pouty look.

He got into the bed beside you, taking you into his strong hold, kissing your neck. “Sleep now sweetheart” he told you, and of course, you complied.

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

Just wanted to write something small, I know it’s not much ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

#paul atreides #mahdi #paul atredies x reader #dune part two #dune x reader #feyd rautha #arrakis #zendaya #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #fanfiction #sci fi and fantasy #dune movie

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sanatomis · 21 days

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⋆.ೃ࿔* ── 𝐃𝐈𝐘-𝐃𝐀𝐃!

it’s career day, and megumi has to bring his dad to school so he can tell the class about his job. the problem? he only has a 20-year-old sorcerer-guardian who has the brain capacity of a walnut.

content. canon divergence (suguru’s alive and studying to be a kindergarten teacher), possible ooc characters, female!reader.

notes. guys i’m a sucker for satoru who really, really tries and isn’t just a goofy man-child ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ also ! thank you all for your patience, it took me a while to finish this piece bc of uni, so i'm vv happy it's finally done <3

taglist. | masterlist.

“I don’t have a dad.”

As cruel as it may be, a part of Megumi hopes that the sentence makes his teacher greatly uncomfortable. Demanding for a father to attend a Career Day at school simply isn’t fair to children without one—or, well, to the child without one. It’s not his fault his father hauled ass and left, so why is she making this so difficult for him?

“Oh,” she mumbles. It seems his arrow hit the target, as her eyebrows pull together in a frown and she shifts her weight between her feet. “Well, you, uh, have a male guardian, don’t you?”

Megumi grimaces. Instantly, he thinks back to last week. Satoru Gojo, self-proclaimed strongest, had hit his head on a kitchen cabinet. With a dramatic pout and an overexaggerated wobble to his lips, he clung to you for hours. Some affection will make it all better!

Of course, when Megumi criticised his skills surrounding his infinity technique—because, really, how couldn’t it block a simple cabinet—the sorcerer opted to ignore him. He suspects there was some foul play at hand.

“Barely,” he mutters, as the memory resurfaces.

His teacher lets out a startled hum. “I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” Megumi says quickly. He watches as she starts typing on her computer, and the realisation that she’s probably currently taking a look at his file isn’t a particularly welcome one. “What about my other guardian? Can I bring her, instead?”

“This event is geared towards fathers,” she explains. It’s obvious she forgot her reading glasses today, Megumi thinks, as she needs to narrow her eyes to read the screen in front of her. “I have one Satoru Gojo noted down as your male guardian. Surely, he will be able to attend.”

Megumi pauses. He blinks up at her expressionlessly, and fights off the urge to push his teacher down a well. You often preach about being kind to others, and that wouldn’t be very kind.

“Can’t I take my oth—”

“I’m afraid not,” she interrupts him before he even gets the sentence out. It irks him. Megumi isn’t fond of speaking to begin with, so when he does, he’d prefer not to be cut off halfway through. “An exception will not be made. Please, make sure to bring Gojo-san to school.”

Megumi briefly, and for the very first time ever, mourns the fact that you and Satoru weren’t married. A small part of him calls the man a coward for not asking you to. If he’d simply taken the step, then Megumi would be able to pass you off as Gojo-san. Unfortunately, he can’t, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that there’s no way around this problem.

“Fine,” he grumbles. It takes all of his remaining willpower to not stomp out of the classroom. Once again, he thinks of you. It’d be extremely bad manners. He can’t find it in himself to wish his teacher a nice day this time, though, and so she’ll have to make due with a slightly less polite Megumi for today.

There’s nothing he can do about it. Satoru will have to come to the school.

Megumi suddenly despises the idea of Career Day.

“I need you to come to my school next week.”

Immediately, all chatter around the dining table stops. For once, Megumi finds himself annoyed at the sudden appearance of silence. Before he said it, he knew his words would most likely have such an effect—he just didn’t expect it to be so instant.

He tries his best to feign nonchalance, as if the topic that’s coming up didn’t make him feel stressed-out beyond belief. The confused, startled glances you and Satoru share don’t do much to help him, either. Perhaps it’s because Megumi is looking straight at him; him instead of you. Yeah, Satoru, he isn’t a fan of it, either.

“Me?” The man asks then, and Megumi has to resist the urge to say, ‘no, I meant the snail in the backyard—yes, you,’ in the most sarcastic voice he can muster up. Satoru once again steals a look at you, ever so oblivious to Megumi's mental remarks. “Don’t you mean—”

“I don’t,” Megumi cuts him off solemnly. His lips are pursed shut, and he pokes the slices of pork belly in his bowl with his chopsticks. One didn’t need to be of particularly high intelligence to notice the boy’s displeasure. “I have to bring a male figure for Career Day.”

It’s slow, the morphing of Satoru’s face, but it happens gradually and doesn’t stop until he’s positively beaming. Megumi doesn’t like it one bit. Nothing good happens when he looks like that, and he’s quite sure that all that will spew out of his mouth in a few seconds will be nothing except for pure nonsense.

“Well, luckily, I will have the day off, then!” Satoru chimes, with a smile so wide it causes two dimples to appear on his cheeks. You copy his smile, and gently go to poke the little dent in his skin—Satoru lets you, as he always does. Megumi would think of it as cute if he weren’t so annoyed. “I will be there.”

It seems he was right. Satoru’s words are pure nonsense.

“I didn’t tell you when,” he comments dryly.

The sorcerer blinks. His smile is still on his face, but it’s fading, and the dimples do so with it. Your hand hovers halfway in the air, stuck with nothing to poke, and you slowly bring it back down to your side. It seems neither of you had taken time to think about that small fact—Megumi blames Satoru for dragging you down with him; him and those indentations in his cheek that you always seem to coo over.

“Oh,” Satoru mumbles. A crease between his brows forms as his brain hurries to catch up with the newfound information. A few seconds pass, and then the previous bravado returns. “Well, it doesn’t matter! I can take the day off. When do you need me? Tell me, and I’ll be there.”

Megumi very much doubts he can take days off all willy-nilly like that, especially after he pushed his workload onto someone else to attend his science fair last time, but then again, what does he know? If Satoru didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, then Megumi wasn’t about to break his own head doing so, either.

“Next Friday,” he mumbles. From the tone of his voice, it’s quite clear that he’d rather be saying anything else. “We have to leave at eight a.m., please, be on time.”

“Sure thing!” Satoru chimes, and with that, Megumi thinks the dreaded conversation has finally come to an end.

All in all—it could’ve gone worse. At least Satoru didn’t prolong it unnecessarily. Nor did he add a bunch of relentless teasing. He glances at the sorcerer. Satoru is happily munching on the dinner you’d prepared, both his cheeks stuffed full with entirely too much rice. It’s unbecoming, and a reflection of his poor manners, Megumi thinks, and he doesn’t understand how you look at the man with such hearts in your eyes.

Though, your more than adequate cooking seems to have saved him from one of Satoru’s onslaughts. He’s grateful. Even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy the sight in front of him.

“Hey, ‘toru?” You ask, breaking the silence with a slight hesitation to your voice. It nearly sounds nervous, and both Megumi and Tsumiki look up in alarm. Satoru hums, still chewing away. “What are you going to tell the class?”

Satoru stops eating. His chewing comes to a halt, and his chopsticks freeze in the air. A slice of pork drops from between them, and falls back into his bowl—It’s not hard to see the cogs turning in his head. “Uhm, I. . .” He swallows the food still in his mouth, and clears his throat.

Right. It’s Career Day—but Satoru can’t tell a bunch of seven to eight-year-olds that he hunts and kills grimy, ugly, and freakishly scary curses for a living, now, can he? Megumi doesn’t think that would go over well with the other parents. The boy sighs. It’s just one thing after another. He grimly believes the world might just be out to get him.

“I. . .Oh! I can tell them I’m a teacher,” his guardian scrambles for a solution, and Megumi can’t help but think it’s a little lack-lustre. Who would believe that guy is a teacher, anyway? Then again. . .Megumi doesn’t know a better fix for their current problem, either. He was so focused on the fact that it was Satoru that had to come to the school, he all but forgot about the fact that the dear thorn-in-his-side didn’t possess a normal job. “Suguru has told me a thing or two about his internship. I can take inspiration from there.”

Ah, yes. The famed Suguru Geto. Megumi has met him before. He hasn’t actually spoken to him, however. The man often visits, and has twin girls clinging to him when he does, and while Tsumiki seems to really like him—and them—Megumi doesn’t have an interest in seeking out some form of interaction, yet. Whenever he comes over, Megumi opts to hide in his room. Suguru never tries to disturb him, nor does he try to coax him into coming out. He’s very grateful for it.

So, despite never speaking to him, Megumi knows about Suguru. Well, he knows enough. He knows Suguru went to school with the two of you, and he knows something really, very bad (nearly) happened that caused the man to take a step back from the world you all live in. What exactly happened (or what didn’t happen), Megumi doesn’t know for sure. You and Satoru almost never speak about it, and when you do, it’s in hushed voices—and you always stop immediately when he enters the room.

But that’s okay. He doesn’t need to know. Suguru doesn’t force himself upon Megumi, and so he will extend him the same courtesy. “I thought Geto-san wasn’t a teacher, yet?” Tsumiki speaks up from beside him, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “Mimi and Nana said he’s still learning. How can he be teaching, already?”

“He’s not a teacher, yet, munchkin, well spotted,” Satoru answers with a proud grin. The nickname annoys Megumi—the feeling of irritation has been conditioned into his very being after Satoru chose it as the designated nickname for both of them. “An internship helps him build experience in the field. It means he is still learning, but he will do so while teaching.”

Tsumiki nods in understanding, her mouth opens and her lips curl into a small ‘ah’ as the information settles in. “So, you will pretend to be a teacher, then? At Megumi’s school?”

Satoru bites on his bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought. Seemingly—as Megumi is quite convinced he doesn’t ever think before he speaks. “I think so, yes,” he explains, and unknowingly retorates Megumi’s train of thoughts. How annoying. Satoru looks towards you for approval; it’s something he does very often. “It’s probably the safest route, no?”

“It’s our best option,” you say, and bring a thumb up to the corner of Satoru’s mouth. Gently, you wipe away a grain of rice stuck to his skin. It’s effortless, and nearly automated. Megumi wonders how many times you’ve had to do that. “Pretending to be a teacher shouldn’t be too difficult a task. Right, mochi?”

“Right,” Satoru echoes. His eyes track your every move, and the slight, pink colouring of his cheeks doesn’t seem to embarrass him even a little bit. Megumi thinks it should. Have some decorum. “I can do it, no problem.”

“Alright then,” you say, and smile. First at Satoru, and then at Megumi. You look at the boy for a few seconds; you’re about to ask him if he’s okay with it. He knows you are, because you always do. “Is that okay for you, Megumi?” It’s like clockwork, almost.

Megumi feels the need to answer with something snarky. Something akin to the sound of ‘What choice do I have?’ but he doesn’t—because you’re being kind, and you don’t deserve such a response. So, instead he turns towards Satoru.

“. . .Just don’t mess it up.”

Satoru delivers a whole spiel about how ‘he’d never do that’ and that he’s ‘more than capable’ of telling a little white lie, but Megumi dilutes it to background noise rather quickly. He continues sputtering his nonsense when Megumi and Tsumiki stand up to clear the table, and still hasn’t stopped even when you and him start loading the dishwasher together—Megumi chooses to seek reprieve in his room while he’s distracted.

It isn’t until many hours later, when Megumi leaves the sanctuary of his room to swipe a quick snack from the kitchen, that he first hears Satoru speak about something other than his great, and very much sufficient, ‘capabilities’. Your voices are muffled, and Megumi has to focus to make out your words. His soft, inaudible padding down the illuminated hallways comes to a halt. As if that would make his ears function better.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Satoru?”

The boy frowns. With such gentleness in your voice, it’s hard to identify the worry lingering beneath the surface. Megumi moves a bit closer. He stops one step shy of bumping into the wooden surface, and peeks through the groove. The door is ajar—it’s something that allows him to watch how your eyes follow Satoru’s large frame as he paces around the room. It’s strange. Seeing him so. . .frazzled.

Satoru nods. “I can do this, I know I can,” he says, and quits his pacing to look at you. Megumi can’t see his face, but he can see yours. He might as well not have, though, as he can’t make out the emotion that fills your eyes. It’s not one he himself has in his repertoire, that he knows for sure. “He never asks me for anything, princess. I have to do this right.”

Ah, this isn’t a conversation Megumi is meant to hear. He should probably seize his eavesdropping, he thinks, and winces a little when he properly analyses Satoru’s words. They’re truthful. Megumi doesn’t go to him when he needs something. His first thought is to go to you—and his second, Tsumiki. And if he’s being honest anyway, his third thought very likely isn’t Satoru, either; He’d try to solve it on his own if it came down to it. Megumi frowns again. He doesn’t like how that realisation makes him feel.

A careful shuffle of footsteps breaks him free from his thoughts. Megumi looks up, and catches how you place a hand on Satoru’s cheek. “I’m sure you’ll do great, baby,” you mumble. There’s a small, soft smile on your lips, one that quickly makes way for the peck Satoru places upon them.

“Thank you,” Satoru whispers. One of his hands reaches for yours, and Megumi suddenly feels as if he’s intruding on something when the man brings them up to his lips to press a tender kiss to them. Okay, no, definitely intruding—ew.

The boy scrunches his nose up in disgust, and hurriedly darts back towards his room. Suddenly, he has lost his appetite for a late-evening snack. Megumi lets out a deep sigh once he’s all tucked into his sheets again. Perhaps giving Satoru a shot wouldn’t be that big of a problem. Just one, though.

. . .Yeah, just one should be enough.

It’s the final, conclusive thought Megumi has before dozing off to sleep. Blissfully unaware of the conversation you and Satoru share—now behind a very closed door.

You stifle a giggle. The disappearance of Megumi’s presence outside your bedroom was quick and rampant as soon as Satoru started to kiss your hands. Something the sorcerer did very deliberately. It’s as if the boy suddenly forgot about the very special, very effective pair of eyes his guardian possesses. And with a cursed energy output such as Megumi’s, it would be hard not to recognise his presence.

“You did that on purpose,” you comment. “How cruel of you, mochi.”

Satoru hums, and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Maybe, the little brat shouldn’t eavesdrop, then,” he defends himself. There isn’t an inkling of guilt to be seen on his pretty face.

. . .Though, both of you still take some extra care to shut the door next time.

Megumi faithfully believes that, as of today, he has used-up all of his luck for the next five, no, ten years. It can only go downhill from here. For some inexplicable, mind-boggling reason—Satoru is actually pulling this off. That’s not all; he’s not merely winging it, he’s genuinely doing well. The boy can’t quite believe his eyes.

When he’d walked to the front with such an overexaggerated pep in his step, and an overabundance of bravado rolling off of him in waves—Megumi couldn’t help but watch on with a grim look, and a healthy dose of negative thoughts. It only amplified the nerves he’d collected so far during the walk to school. Somehow, watching Satoru give your flashcards a frantic do-over did very little to ease his bubbling anxiety.

There were many of them, flashcards that is. All possible questions his peers or his teacher could ever think of are written on those little pieces of cardboard. Courtesy of you, and your boyfriend. Megumi’s able to recall all those nights the two of you spend at the kitchen table—practising. He thought it was silly at the time.

But, as it turns out, it works.

Satoru is fun. To other people; Megumi doesn’t share the sentiment. Against all odds, he’s dynamic, and speaks with conviction. His flamboyant hand gestures have others think of them as amusing—captivating, even. Satoru is talking, and they’re all hanging onto his every word. No matter the fact that they’re all cleverly disguised lies.

Megumi can’t wrap his head around it. He doesn’t need to, however. If anything, he’s relieved that his peers think of his guardian as cool. While he certainly does not share the opinion, he isn’t too dense to admit that such a belief will save him a lot of embarrassment in the future. So, for this one, single day, he will let Satoru Gojo be cool. His snarky comments can resume tomorrow.

“Ah, it seems you have a deep love for your profession, Gojo-san,” his teacher says. She interrupts Satoru’s rant, and catches his attention as well as Megumi’s. Her voice is light and airy, and carries nothing that should cause him to fear the worst. Still, the boy feels on edge. “Though, I don’t remember the grade you are teaching. Could you tell us, again?”

Ah, and there it goes. The very first card in the elaborately built castle of lies.

Satoru pauses. A second passes, and then two, and three, and so on. He doesn’t speak for a good thirty, and Megumi can nearly see his mind leaf through his beloved flashcards—flashcards that are now neatly tucked into his pockets and entirely out of reach. That’s good. Because the absolute last thing Satoru should do now, is resort back to the flashcards.

Megumi shakes his head no as a signal.

“Ah,” Satoru says. “I teach kindergarten.”

Satoru didn’t catch the hint. Megumi wishes the ground would swallow him up. It would have been the correct answer—it is the answer that’s written on the flashcards—if Satoru hadn’t decided to go off route. Getting too caught up in the story he’d been free-writing, and allowing himself to get carried away by the looks of awe is resulting in his downfall, which, consecutively, will end with Megumi’s downfall, as well.

“Huh? But! What about the science experiment that exploded?” One of the children in his class whines. “I didn’t get to do that in kindergarten!”

“And the backflip you taught your students!”

“What about the first prize in the talent show? I thought your students were famous!”

The little bit of colour that normally resides in Satoru’s face steadily disappears, and he clenches his fist at his side. Ah, it’s great to know he’s at least aware of his mistake. That won’t help either of them at the moment, though. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow, and a feeling of distress overtakes him. It shows on his face. He doesn’t exactly go through the trouble of trying to hide it—there are bigger problems right now.

How utterly humiliating to be caught lying.

Satoru’s eyes find him. They’re just as troubled as his own. It worsens his anxiety.

“Oh, uhm, you see. . .” Satoru stammers, and Megumi’s stomach churns when the children around them continue to ask more and more questions. The wince his guardian lets out does little to soothe him. Megumi sighs, and looks at the ground. “Ah, I see. It seems you guys saw right through me.”

Megumi slides down in his seat. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, the ground would absorb him. It’s currently looking like a preferable fate.

“. . .I’m actually a detective.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“And. . .And for a detective, it’s very important to listen to what people say, because they could be lying!”

It’s a sad, pathetic excuse for a save. Megumi briefly ponders the distance between his seat and the door. Perhaps he could make a run for it. The subway station is very close by—getting on and travelling to an entirely new city to start a new life doesn’t seem like such a bad option. He sighs. No, that’s not possible. You and Tsumiki would be very worried. What else is there to do, though?

“You all picked up on my lie, which tells me every single one of you could make a great detective in the future.”

Megumi thinks Satoru might have some underlying mental problems. Though, they can’t possibly be as severe as the problems his classmates have—for they all believe the nonsense he’s giving them. Bright eyes, filled with hope and admiration, stare up at the man at the front of the class; impressed hums and entertained smiles get passed between the parents standing at the edge of the room. And Satoru, well, he seems entirely too proud of the fact that he made a bunch of children think they’re destined for a career in law enforcement. But, be that as it may, it works.

The children stir up unrest—the good kind this time, the kind that vocalises their excitement—and all rush to ask the detective a question. But, before they can even open their mouths, Satoru claps his hands together. It seems he has decided enough is enough, and it’s one of those very rare moments where Megumi agrees with him. The boy needs this to be over already.

“Alright, that’s it for today,” Satoru says, and feigns disappointment. He pretends to be affected by the sad groans of the children—keyword being pretend, as to the trained eye it’s quite clear that he wishes to leave. “I’m not allowed to tell you more.”

Ah, see, now that’s a good card.

“Wait, but, what about. . .”

“Ah, sorry, that’s confidential. Detective stuff, y’know?”

Confidential. Megumi thinks that might just be his new favourite word. The lingering feeling of anxiety slowly starts to subside with every step Satoru takes towards the back of the room—to the back, and away from the spotlight. His eyes follow the man’s large frame, but Satoru never chooses to look at him in return. His line of sight is firmly focused on the floor. It confuses Megumi, but he chalks it up to a mere whim.

All things considered (and minus the near cardiac arrest he went through), today went pretty well, after all. Much to his surprise.

Perhaps Megumi doesn’t hate Career Day. A strong dislike is more like it.

Megumi can’t count the times he wished for Satoru to be quiet. The exact number is much like the digits of Pi—huge, and absolutely never-ending. He can, however, count the times he didn’t wish for him to be quiet. As of today, that stands at a very solid one.

The birds around them chirp, and the bustle of other people is heard all around them—but they’re the only sounds gracing his ears. There is none of Satoru’s incessant chatter, nor is there even a glimmer of gloating about a job well-done. It’s eerily silent, and Megumi isn’t sure what to make of it. This isn’t quite how he imagined the walk home to go. Far from it, if he’s being honest.

“What’s up with you?”

It’s possibly the first time Megumi decides to break the silence, ever. The boy frowns, and fiddles with the straps of his backpack. There isn’t a middle-ground with Satoru, he has found out. Either he speaks entirely too much, or unnervingly little. There’s a tiny pebble in his path, and Megumi feels the need to kick it forward—so he does.

“I kind of messed up there, huh?”

The kick doesn’t have nearly enough force to it. Megumi watches as the little rock skips forward. Once, twice, and then it comes to a standstill again. “Yeah, kind of,” he agrees.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru rushes out. It’s said so fast, as if it physically pains him to say it. Perhaps it does. It’s sincere, however. There isn’t even a hint of a joke to be found. Something must be bothering him. “It didn’t go how I wanted it to go, and I don’t know why I went astray, and forgot about the cards. It—well, it was pretty stupid.”

Megumi doesn’t exactly feel the need to deny it.

“So, I get it, okay?” He continues, seeing the boy’s silence as an empty space for more conversation—more rambling. Since that’s what it is; rambles, plain and simple. Megumi doesn’t see the need for such a fuss. “I shouldn’t have strayed from the plan, and. . .”

“It’s fine.”

Satoru blinks at him. “What?”

“I said it’s fine,” Megumi repeats. Because it really is fine. Admittedly, it wasn’t smart of Satoru to all but discard your carefully planned presentation, but it ended well enough regardless. No harm, no foul. “Thank you for coming.”

That small, short sentence is enough to stop Satoru in his tracks. Megumi doesn’t, however. The man is very tall, he’s sure to catch up in a jiffy; he doesn’t need him to wait. There’s another small silence, though this one feels a lot more comfortable than the last. Satoru takes his time to process, and Megumi lets him.

“W—What?” The sorcerer stammers in shock. There is no need for Megumi to turn around and see—he can hear the smile curling onto his lips. “Did you just. . .”

“I won’t say it again,” Megumi grumbles definitively, and picks up his pace. The very tips of his ears heat up, and the apples of his cheeks turn red. The feeling of embarrassment. This wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned it to appear when the day started.

Satoru attempts to run after him, to catch up. “Megumi!” He calls out, the very prominent, very familiar whiney lilt now back in his voice. Megumi didn’t miss it. “Wait for me, I didn’t hear you! Could you repeat that?”

“Yes, you did!” Megumi says, and throws him an annoyed glance from over his shoulder. He tightens his hold on the straps of his backpack. “Stop lying.”

“Nuh uh!”

“What are you? Six?”

Satoru’s toothy grin is infuriating. But—it’s familiar. And Megumi discovers he’s much more at ease when that grin is on display, than when the man in question is moping around. It’s a lot less alarming.

“And a half,” Satoru adds.

The scowl that’s on Megumi’s face appears almost instantly when he goes to ruffle his hair. For a man whose technique largely surrounds being untouchable, he has a surprising lack of awareness concerning this thing called personal space.

“Ugh,” Megumi groans, and pushes him off. It doesn’t work. Satoru gravitates towards him again—almost as if he’s a magnet. He doesn’t attempt to move a second time. In moments like these, it’s best to let Satoru get it all out of his system. “You’re so stupid.”

It’s true. He does think Satoru is stupid, but he can’t deny it—Satoru tried his very best today, and in the days prior. Which makes him one of the very small, barely existent group of people who have done so for him.

It seems one shot was enough, after all.

taglist: @luv-gin @sad-darksoul @parttimep3t @nanuer @bubbletae7 @chilichopsticks @gabirii @nyxlai @rattywatty @chaoticevilbakugo @ploylulla @sugasbrownsuga @littleagxs @m3ow1 @booksarekindaneat @frankenstein852 @bananasquash @jasm-1ne @chicken-fifi @yanelis-world @satory @satoryaa @sasfransisco @faetoraa @softiehee

#ꕤ — sanatomis darling: fushiguro megumi #ꕤ — sanatomis darling: gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x platonic!reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— skeletons + sae itoshi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — sae doesn’t realise how much being away from home affects him, until he hears your voice again.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, angst, hurt no comfort, long-distance, established relationship, mentions of mental health, pro player!sae, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2K.

⭑ notes — hi beautiful babies!! this is the first of a few fics i have queued for my week away. i wrote this a while ago and it’s based off of skeletons by keshi !! hope you like <3 - m.list ✩

in all honesty, sae itoshi doesn’t expect you to pick up. it’s way too late for you, just breaching the early house of the next morning in japan. there’s a seven hour difference between madrid and tokyo, sae knows because he’s looked it up a million times before anticipating a call or text from you. and right now, you’re probably sleeping, you’re supposed to have been sleeping.

but alas, your phone rings and you pick up on the third— voice groggy over the comforting crackle of static on the line. “h…hello?”

for a moment, the older itoshi brother listens to you and your natural ambience. he notes your deep breathing, still recovering from the depths of sleep, and the slight whines you let out with your yawns as you stretch your stiff muscles. maybe it’s weird, but sae misses all of your sounds, he misses waking up next to them— curling his arm around your waist on nights you’d snuck over to his childhood home just to see him.

“is anyone there?”

snapping out of it, sae clears his throat— fixing his voice as it sits hoarse in its base before he speaks. “it’s me, love.”

“sae!” shifting from the sheets tells sae that you’re more awake now— alerted by the symphony of his voice over the shitty landline. “shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“could say the same for you, it’s four am over there.” he knows that he’s wrong, you’re seven hours ahead and it’s only ten pm for him — meaning it’ll be closer to five am where you are and sae itoshi is never wrong. he was born with impressive gut instinct and a quick mind but this time he’s wrong on purpose. he makes a mistake because he wants to stall for time, keep you talking a little longer and hear your voice for a few minutes more…because maybe that’ll keep the demons away.

keep his head floating above the water he seems to have fallen in.

sae is drowning in his dreams, and if he reaches out he can’t touch them— to him, the greatest of all time…they’re unattainable.

“five actually, and my alarm is meant to go off soon. i thought you were it and then i saw your contact…” you manage to say through a yawn, rubbing your eye’s unbeknownst to your boyfriend since he’s halfway across the globe. if he could see, if he was there—he’d probably call you cute, wipe your eyes for you and force you back down to sleep. but he’s not here and he can’t see because there’s a distance between you that can only be fixed by grainy face times on your cells.

“i wanted to call.” the midfielder clarifies, cutting you off sharply but his words coat the inside of his mouth like cotton, as if they’re hard to say — melting over the line like rice paper on his tongue.

“okay,” breathing slow, you hug your knees to your chest and let your silence tangle with the crackling static. “you don’t usually call first.”

“i needed to hear your voice.”

“i’m here. i miss you. do you want to switch to facetime?” sae has half a mind to tell you no. if you switch now, you’d worry— you’d see how hollow he’s become, how sleep deprivation eats at the pink tinge to his flesh and clings to the undersides of his dulling aquamarine eyes. you might think that he’s dying and perhaps he is. the pro player feels like he is. every day is harder, his bones feel heavier and his muscles weaker — he needs medicine. he needs you.

you’re the only drug sae would ever inject into his veins— your smile, your laugh, your heart. they make him better, make him feel alive. so he relents, “gimme a sec, i’ll call you.” he grunts and taps the button to video-call, waiting for you to pick up again.

“there you are, handsome. tell me about your day.” blue light from the early morning filters over your skin— the footage of the FaceTime call is grainy, probably because it’s still a little bit dark outside for you but you’re beautiful. to sae you’ve always been beautiful.

the elder itoshi brother makes a small effort to smile at your compliment, the expression blooming on his cheeks which you mirror, happy to see him — he misses you too. “i don’t wanna talk about it. you do the talking. i just want to listen to you.”

“alright well… i worked today— yesterday. sorry! timezones,” you miss the way sae winces at the mention of your time difference, the invisible divide between you both, as you settle back into your bed to admire him. “my shift sort of sucked, you know how it goes.” your boyfriend listens to you intently, makes faces at the complaints you make about customers, clients and coworkers alike.

sometimes, the midfielder doesn’t understand you how you devote your life’s work, your beauty and intelligence to an industry that chews you up, spits you out like dirt and drives you to the edge of falling to pieces. sae doesn’t doubt you, he knows that you’re talented and wishes you saw the same value in yourself that he did.

you deserve better. so much better.

perhaps he’s the same as you, working for someone else until he breaks and he’s better than everyone else— all in the name of becoming the best in the world.

“you hate your job. quit. i earn enough money to take care of you.”

“and you hate yours. but you won’t come home where i can take care of you.”

sae rolls his eyes at your quip because of how easy it is for you to read him despite the way he hides his emotions behind a clay mask. he’s always been like that, but he feels the need to tuck away the uglier parts from him even more of late— even if you’ve seen it all before. the late nights where he’s feeling sad and goes to bed, sae wakes up feeling even worse. especially without you but even now with your face on a screen, beaming at him the same way you have all your life— he doesn’t feel any better.

you’re meant to be his solace.

quickly changing the subject, sae nods his head as if to push you in a different conversational direction. “tell me about what you did after work.”

you hesitate, peering into his ocean eyes for a split second. “i went to see rin at blue lock. he’s…he’s doing really well, you know. you should come see him sometime. you’d be proud of how far he’s come since we were little.”

it’s not that he doesn’t care about his younger brother, but the relationship between rin and sae itoshi is probably long past any attempts at repair. you’ve been stuck in the middle for as long as you’ve known them— pulling them close despite the boys repelling each other like polar magnets.

you were the glue when they were kids, keeping the three of you together and to this day you still tried to manage the gap between the two brothers, despite their disputes. their differences.“can we please not talk about that half-ass piece of—“ you glare over the phone from across the globe and sae silences himself, pursing his lips to avoid scrutiny from the love of his life. you.

“you know, you never told me what happened when you first came home from Spain.” you blurt after a moment's quiet. “but i think i’ve always sorta known.”

“yeah?” the magenta haired midfielder challenges, brushing a hand over his tired face.

“yeah…” nodding subtly, you shift and roll onto your side— a solemn expression dancing across your features. “you changed. you hurt him, sae, real bad. rin changed too.” you say hoarsely, as if the words you’ve uttered burn at the insides of your throat like bitter liquor. “you’ve not shown that same fate to me, you know better than to lash out at me. but you’re different. you don’t smile anymore. not with your eyes like you used to — i miss that.” i miss you. is what you really want to say. not just physically, but emotionally. you want your boyfriend back, not the empty shell of skin and bones you have now.

even sae picks up on the hidden meaning behind your words— he doesn’t smile at you like he used to.

for once the eldest itoshi decides to be honest with you. he thinks to tell you how stressed out he is, how he’s scared his plan for this soccer thing might not even work out. he decides to be honest in words that he knows best and not all the details because he doesn’t want you to break over him.

“talk to me, itoshi.” you cut through his thoughts like a knife through butter.

“i’m afraid of myself, and i hate it.”

“then come home, sae.” it’s a nice offer, a tempting bribe. to be home with you when sae knows that would be the closest thing to giving up. he knew you wouldn’t get it. you wouldn’t understand how much soccer meant to him but you can’t be blamed for that. the thing you love most in the world isn’t your career— it’s him. “come home and be with me.”

your wish would be as selfish as his — you don’t want him to give up soccer for you and he doesn’t want to leave soccer to feel better with you like he knows he would.

“i need to make it to the end of the season — i have to.”

“sae, you’re tired. you look like a ghost.”

“i don’t even know if i’m going to make it.” he snaps, desperate and pleading with you not to make this more difficult than it already is. “but if i don’t try. then all of this will be for nothing. my goals have changed, but i worked hard for this and i will get what i want.” he spits out as if there’s acid on his tongue, burning through the little solace of love you’ve tried to wrap him up in. sae runs a hand through his silken locks, sighing as he briefly looks away from your crumpled face on the screen. “so stop asking me to come home for you because i won’t. it’s not worth it. you’re not worth it.”

you gasp, tears flooding your eyes. you know he doesn’t mean it, or maybe he does — it’s been difficult to read sae recently, he’s slipping from your grasp like sand between your fingers and you just have to let him. another beat of silence echoes between you both — but neither of you make the effort to speak. sae doesn’t correct himself and you don’t force your hand to make him apologise.

you care enough for him not to make him fight— to make sae choose his own battles. you’d never ask him to pick soccer over you, because you know what his answer would be regardless… but that doesn’t mean it hurts you any less to watch him destroy himself for it and to lose the boy you grew up loving to a sport you may never understand.

though, that doesn’t stop you from lashing out and bearing your own fangs either — if he was going to throw salt in your wounds, you could do that too.

“i have to go, itoshi. get some rest, you look like shit, but you that’s what you want, right? it’s worth it to you.”

you hang up before he can say a word and sae can’t bring himself to message and apologise. because he knows that you’re right, you’re telling him to pick soccer because he can’t make that choice for himself.

sae itoshi is a pro player now. he’s gotten what he’s always wanted — he’s achieving his dreams as the corpse of the man he once was. the one who loved you proper.

but that doesn’t matter anymore, whatever his team wants out of him they get.

since his skeleton’s out for the taking.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae angst #itoshi sae imagines #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi imagines #sae itoshi angst #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bllk angst #blue lock angst #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

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wri0thesley · 5 months

Text

cw: reader x nanami, not sfw, fantasising, kissing, horny. a companion piece to the first ever nanami fic i wrote! 949 words.

You feel better than he could ever have imagined.

Breathless nights on his own, one hand wrapped around his cock and one hand in front of his mouth to muffle the shame of whining and moaning the name of someone he wasn't officially attached to (and, in fact, whom he had tried in vain to not see in such a way) . . . they don't remotely compare to this.

Oh, some of his fantasies come back to him when he kisses you. He remembers how he imagined kissing you back then, and what you would taste like - this is a clumsier, a clash of tongue and teeth, you panting helplessly into his mouth - but this is far more true and raw and real. This is what it feels like to have been pining over someone for months and for the frenzy of sensation to finally come to a head - this, and the way your hands rake through his hair. The way that he can feel your heart beat so fiercely against his chest, and even more so when he trails his mouth over the cheeks he has imagined pinching and squeezing and having wrapped around his cock. Even more so when his teeth graze your neck, the fluttering pulse point, and you make a noise like a whine and he has never been more aware of just how intensely hard he is in his trousers.

"Kento--"

He remembers how you said his name in his daydreams and nighttime sins, but it is nothing compared to how it sounds when it comes out of you in a plea, when you take his big hands and you place them squarely upon the curve of your chest and encourage him to squeeze. You are so soft; even through the callouses on his palms from wielding his weapon and the layer of your clothing, Nanami knows you will feel like satin beneath his fingertips.

Your own fingers dance nervously at the collar of his shirt, tugging his tie off. He realises, as the tips of your nails graze the bob of his Adam's apple, that he outright growls at the contact -and your eyes go wide and blown, your mouth half-open.

"Can I?" You ask, your tone a little shy - and Nanami cannot bring himself to speak, not when his fantasies have been dropped into his lap even though he doesn't feel as though he deserves them, and all he can offer you is a nod and the feeling of his own fingers pulling none-too-gently at your shirt.

You laugh a huffing, breathless noise as one of your buttons pops off and flies somewhere across the room, probably never to be found again.

"I didn't think you'd be . . . this eager--" You say to him, sounding bashful. You look up at him all lovely, nervous and bold and alluring all at once, and Nanami cannot hold himself back.

"I've wanted to do this to you for months," he admits, in a strained voice. "You wouldn't get out of my head."

"Oh," you say, your fingers working at his collar - the buttons slipping through sweat-slick fingers, and finally his button holes. Your lashes flutter as you push the shoulders off of him, and his body is finally revealed to you; the broad shoulders, the scars, the sinewy muscle that he hides behind his clothes all day. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, as if you're about to make a confession. "Then . . . you won't feel that I'm being inappropriate when I tell you how many times I touched myself and thought of you?"

That pushes him over the edge.

Before he can think twice of it, he's guiding you to the bed, practically throwing you down upon it. You bounce on the mattress and pillows with another breathless laugh that goes straight to his cock, and he does not need to ask you to pull off the rest of your clothes. Your underwear is halfway down your thighs before he's managed to unbutton his own fly.

To think, all of those nights he has spent thinking about you - imagining the noises you would make if he eased himself inside of you, imagining the silky wet cling of your cunt on his cock, imagining your lips wrapped around his shaft and drool dripping down your chin as you looked up at him with adoration and worship in your eyes--

In another part of the city, you were doing the same thing.

In another bed, you had one hand between your thighs; your fingers stuffed inside of you in an echo of his cock, your hips shaking, your slick leaking out all over the bed as you rubbed and crooked and fucked yourself silly on your own digits wishing they were his.

Did you imagine him knelt between your legs like he was praying? His tongue, lashing your clit? Did you imagine his big fingers scissoring and and out of you? His voice, murmuring low praises about how good you were and how well you were taking him? His hips, pistoning in and out of you?

Did you imagine him filling you up with his come; wanting you so badly that he kept thrusting even after his release, your hole oozing a frothy mixture of his come and your own arousal, until you were both wet and messy and couldn't remember where he began and you ended?

It doesn't matter.

As Nanami bears down on you - as he kisses you again, as all of his fantasies come true at once and he is deliriously, impossibly happy - he knows that neither of you will ever need to fantasise about each other again.

Not when you have the real thing.

#nanami x reader #not sfw text #nanami smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #drabble #writing #jjk posting

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justporo · 4 months

Text

To always meet again

Astarion - being as sneaky as the rogue he is - presents you wíth a present. Probably the best you could have imagined.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Written for the "Found Family" prompt of the BG3 Winter Holiday challenge and I'm putting it also down for "Ornaments". Alright folks, we're closing out the Winter Challenge with some big happy feelings! Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate and also lovely, peaceful days to everyone else!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: none Wordcount: 2,2k ~~~

Astarion finally decided you’d had enough of a break and led you back home. Your former gloominess you found to your own surprise had subsided. The vampire really had figured out quite well, what might drag you out of a bad mood.

This time it had been taking you on a stroll through the snowy city and just blabbering away while you had eyed the massive snow drifts at the side of the roads, wondering if maybe throwing yourself in one would make your thoughts and anxiety stop racing.

But of course Astarion had noticed and stopped you. With a firm hold around your shoulders he had dragged you away from an especially tall heap of snow and mumbled something about how he hoped you’d know to behave like someone above the age of five.

That had annoyed you and made you pout. And after a while his grip on your shoulders had loosened again because he had believed you'd come to your senses - fool!

You had fallen a few steps behind while the vampire had kept rambling while still trying to distract you from your worries.

When he had been busy rattling off all the reasons why he thought you were incredible and why you shouldn’t worry as much, he’d realised that you weren’t beside him anymore. WIth searching eyes he’d turned around: “Love? Please don’t tell me you’re trying to drown yourself in snow - I’m not dragg-” The rest of the sentence had been interrupted by a snowball smacking the vampire straight in the face.

He had hissed at you angrily while you had simply cackled - which had made Astarion even more angry. Almost too quick for you to see had he then grabbed some snow himself and fired back with impeccable aim.

What had followed had been a fierce snowball fight with lots of laughter and teasing mockery - up until Astarion had grabbed you and dragged you down with him into a huge pile of snow, making you screech and then laugh. You had gotten what you had wanted after all.

Still laughing had you gotten up again and started to make your way home while trying to shake the snow off your clothes and out of your hair. Your face had become a lively pink colour and Astarion had gleamed with admiration and love.

But now as you stood at the steps to your front door you felt some of the worries and anxiety creep back up again. You felt a bit of weight settle uncomfortably in your chest again and you hesitated going up the steps as Astarion was already up and unlocking the door.

When your partner realised that you’d been hesitating he turned around to observe you standing there like a statue and biting your lip because the negative thoughts were already getting the better of you once more.

“My love, we’re not even back inside and all my hard work to cheer you up was already laid to waste? Look, I’m still covered in snow even!” Astarion pouted and stopped halfway through unlocking the door.

He was trying to lighten the mood but when you only looked at him with a pained expression the mocking glint in his red eyes softened.

He stepped down the couple of steps until he was on eye level with you again. His smile was genuine now.

“Darling, I promise you won’t have to worry”, he said softly and cupped your cheek that was tinted a light pink from the cold. Astarion’s thumb wandered over your cheek repeatedly, brushing your worries away one by one, while he looked at you with incredible gentleness in his eyes. It was one of those looks that had the power to make your heart stutter for a moment.

The vampire leaned forward, lightly lifting your face up to his and planted a quick kiss on your lips. And immediately when he broke away you grabbed his hand still cupping your face and then made to stand on your tiptoes again to steal a second kiss - this one longer and quickly becoming something chasing the cold from the weather away.

After a while Astarion withdrew while he was clearing his throat - was he flustered?

The vampire’s eyes flicked from yours to behind you and then quickly back to you. A nonchalant grin was already on his lips again.

But you smelled that something was going on. Your brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. You threw a glance over your shoulder but nothing was there - just your tall living room window with some ice creeping up its corners.

Or wait - you could see some light from the fireplace. That definitely hadn’t been lit when you had left. Had Gale started a fire?

Something was definitely fishy - and you weren’t particularly fond of it.

You turned back around and stared at Astarion judgmentally while putting your hands on your hips.

The vampire immediately became defensive: “What? What have I done now?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll preemptively let you know: I’m not up for jesting tonight, Astarion.”

Your partner snorted in offence and mirrored your pose while he pouted: “Why must you always be so judgemental, my heart? You didn’t get that from me, did you?” You saw the grin dragging up one corner of his mouth despite his offended tone.

With a quick step forward Astarion planted another small kiss onto the top of your nose - immediately you remembered a moment some weeks ago, when the first snow had fallen. The smile that now found its way onto your lips was inevitable as you were reminded of how you’d kissed a snow flake off the annoyed vampire’s nose.

“Everything will be quite alright, my love”, Astarion promised you with a big grin right then and there. And then with a wink turned fleet-footedly to take the few steps back up to the front door again. With a hand lightly placed on your back he pushed you along.

Astarion flung the door open wide and pushed you inside in a manner you found a bit overly dramatic - you were quite capable of walking back inside yourself.

And you were ready to tell your vampire as much when you realised there were people standing in your hallway - and quite a lot too.

“Uhm”, you helplessly made and took in the scene.

Before you stood each and every one of your companions - all beaming brightly at you. Well except maybe for Lae’zel who was wearing her perpetual snarl - but even that seemed softened right now as she looked at you.

All of them were here, cramped into the hallway up to the archway to the living room. You had turned into a statue once more, only capable of staring at all of your friends in surprise.

“Hey soldier”, Karlach said with an impossibly broad grin and then she simply stepped forward and enveloped you into an almost bone crushing hug, that lifted you straight off your feet. “I missed you so much!” the tiefling exclaimed while she pressed you against her own body.

You could barely breathe and were almost sure you heard her sniffle while she buried her face in your hair and softly swayed you from side to side, but you couldn’t be happier. Your heart was swelling with warmth and love as simultaneously all worry that had consumed so much of your energy today up until now was driven out of it.

When she set you down again the floodgates had been opened. Almost all of them took their turns wrapping you in their arms while Astarion closed the front door behind you and quickly helped you out of your cloak.

The smug grin on his face you noticed out of the corner of your eye before you got wrapped in another crushing hug by Halsin immediately told you that he had something to do with all of this. But for the moment you were busy happily greeting all of your friends.

Only when everyone had greeted you and the entryway of your cosy home was buzzing with chatter and laughter did you turn around to Astarion who in an uncommon manner for him had taken a step back and was just watching you and the others with a content smile.

“So, what’s your involvement in all of this?”, you asked your vampire while raising an eyebrow questioningly at him.

Immediately, Astarion started an overly dramatic act, behaving much more like you were used to again.

“Who? Me?” he asked and elegantly but with exaggeration placed his hand on his chest as if he was being accused of a dire crime.

You cocked your head at him.

Astarion simply shrugged as he began to grin again.

“I was just - you know me, darling - very convincing”, your partner replied while his grin became almost a bit predatory.

“Convincing, yes,” Lae’zel took up the conversation. You threw a glance at her over your shoulder and saw how she had narrowed her eyes at Astarion while the others around her were mostly busy with idle chatter.

“He threatened to gut us if we’d dare to not show up here for this ridiculous holiday festivity”, the githyanki hissed.

“Oh, Lae’zel, you’re so bitter. Don’t say it wasn’t an invitation after your own liking”, Astarion exclaimed cheerfully as he stepped up to you and put an arm around you. The githyanki just gave him another death stare while the vampire kept up his unfaltering smile.

“You also kept us waiting long enough”, Shadowheart chimed in with pursed lips. “And then on top of that you also made us watch you make out on the front steps,” she continued and you saw how her eyebrow jumped up in annoyance.

Your eyes widened and a blush crept onto your face as you realised that that must have been what (or rather whom) Astarion had seen when you had kissed on the front steps. The cleric just shrugged at your reaction and you saw that she was suppressing a laugh.

“Yeah, gods be damned, get a room, right?”, Karlach barged into the conversation and started laughing immediately while you felt your face grow even hotter. It had been a while since you and Astarion had been called out by your companions about your lovey-dovey behaviour. And obviously you weren’t used to it anymore.

“I’ll happily remind you, Karlach, that all of these are our rooms and you are merely guests here”, Astarion retorted while he wrapped his arm firmer around you and pressed a quick kiss to your lips and then - before you could even react - slapped your butt. Which earned him another howling fit of laughter from Karlach and some sensible chuckles all around while Shadowheart and Lae’zel looked ready to throw up.

Still in his embrace you felt how your face must’ve become even redder. You turned to Astarion, ready to wipe his smug grin off his face. But he swiftly stepped out of your reach.

“Apropos, guests, my love,” he began and quickly brought some distance in between you two.

“Don’t you want to invite our guests to sit down for dinner”, Astarion quickly continued and motioned towards your living room with an outstretched arm.

You were trying to protest - nothing was prepared there yet.

But when you stepped over your words died on your lips.

The living room looked like a winter paradise. Small mage lights were dancing all around the room making it sparkle. Holly, mistletoes and even whole fir branches seemed to have sprouted from the walls and the ceiling. And when you stepped into what you had thought was your living room you were irritated by the crunching noise that your footsteps made. Looking down you realised that the floor was covered in a layer of snow - even though you were inside. You could barely believe it.

The whole room looked almost like it had been teleported to a wintery forest. Only the furniture and the tall living room window with a view of the outside were reminders that you were still inside.

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. And then you took in the centre piece: in the middle of the room stood a huge banquet table decked with space for everyone, all the dishes you and Gale had prepared and lots more of wintery decor and candelabra that threw their warm light onto everything.

It looked magical and you immediately knew you had a certain wizard to thank for that - and of course your vampire who had made sure that everything would turn out perfectly.

The others who seemingly had already taken in the wondrously decorated room came swarming around you then, taking up spots at the table.

When Gale passed you, you shortly grabbed and squeezed his hand in passing to thank him. He winked back at you kind of awkwardly before he went to sit down.

For a moment you stood there and took in the scene while Astarion stood beside you, looping his arm around your waist once more.

All of your friends here, laughing, talking while the love of your life was by your side. This was absolutely the best of all possible outcomes. Your chest swelled with happiness and your eyes with tears as you took it in a moment longer before you turned to your soulmate who was softly and adoringly smiling at you.

“Thank you,” you whispered so silently it was almost inaudible.

“No,” Astarion whispered back and leaned in close, touching his forehead to yours, “thank you for everything that brought all of us here.”

And to that you had nothing more to add.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon

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bruisedboys · 1 year

Note

can I request a James x reader where he comforts a reader who struggles to connect with people and make friends? Thank you!

gosh this ask is so me. I find it so so so hard to connect and make friends I’m really glad I’m not the only one. it’s tough out there fr!!! love u anon

fem!reader 1.6k words

You get home from work and the only person you want to see is James. Your eyes sting when you realise he’s not home yet. You should’ve realised earlier, but you were too focused on getting home without bursting into tears on the way here. He’s working late today, meaning you’re alone. For another whole hour.

You manage to get out of your shoes, put your bag down, and get half undressed before you start crying. You’re halfway through pulling your blouse over your head when the first tear dribbles down your cheek. There’s no stopping it from then.

The tears come and they don’t stop. You slump down on the bed in nothing but your underwear and cry until your chest aches and then some. It’s hard being a quiet girl, even harder being a quiet girl at your work. Everyone’s friends with each other, everyone’s fun and cool and no one ever has to think twice about what they want to say. You try and try to make friends but nothing ever comes of it. You’re too much, or maybe not enough, you can’t quite decide. Whatever it is, it hurts. And if you keep doing this any longer you think you’ll be drained of all your energy.

You’re crying so much you don’t even hear the door open. It’s only when James calls down the hallway that you realise he’s home.

“Y/N? Where are you, honey?”

You’ve no time to make yourself look presentable. All you can do is wipe the hot tears from your wet cheeks and then James is stepping into the bedroom. He looks lovely as always but his face falls horribly when he gets a good look at you.

“Sweetheart,” he says, panicked. He throws his bag down and crosses the room quickly until he’s right in front of you. He puts his big warm hands on your shoulders. “Honey. Are you— what’s the matter? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

You’re too busy trying to get your breathing back to normal to answer. James checks you over for any signs of injury and when he finds none he somehow manages to look even more worried. It’s not something he can fix with a band-aid and a kiss, he must realise. Though you would quite like a kiss right now.

“I th-thought you were working late,” you blubber uselessly, your voice all clogged with upset.

James frowns at you. “I wanted to see you, shortcake. Boss let me off early.”

More tears come before you can stop them. He’s so nice and you’re so upset and he’s come home early to see you and he’s met with this. You cry that awful sort of crying. The sort where you can’t really seem to stop no matter how much you want to. The sort that starts small and gets bigger and bigger until your throat burns like fire.

“Aw, sweetheart,” James coos quietly. He pushes he hands around to your back and pulls you into his chest, arms locked around your shoulders. His big hand finds your hair and he strokes from the top of your head to the bottom over and over again. “Shh. It’s okay, lovely girl. I’ve got you.”

You appreciate that he doesn’t tell you to stop crying. You don’t think you could if he did. And besides, this breakdown has been a long time coming. You’ve held it in for days now and you know you’ll probably feel better afterwards. James stands and holds you for as long as you need, as long as it takes for your tears to slow.

When they finally do come to a stop, you suddenly remember you’re wearing next to nothing. James is still rubbing your back, his big hands smoothing lines into your skin, and suddenly you’re hot and prickly all over. You go to pull away.

“James,” you say thickly, speaking right into his chest.

James hums and you can feel it vibrate through his chest. He lets you pull away but only slightly, moving back about an inch so he can see your face.

“Yeah?” He asks softly. He’s got this look on his face that makes you want to cry all over again. Fond. Pitying but in a nice way. “You ready to talk about it?”

“I should put on a shirt,” you say instead of answering.

“What?” James looks at you like you being in such a state of undress is the last thing on his mind. Like he hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in helping you to feel better. His eyes flick from your face to your chest and back again. “Oh. No, honey, you’re okay. Unless you’re uncomfortable.”

Your heart does this funny backflip that makes you feel better, or maybe worse, you can’t tell. He’s so lovely. You might cry again. “I— no. M’not uncomfortable. I just thought it was weird. For you to be hugging me like this.”

James huffs. A sweet but quiet smile pulls at his lips. “S’not weird,” he says softly. “It’s fine, baby.”

He pulls away but only for a moment, only so he can sit down next to you on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. He gets an arm around you shoulder and one on your knee and then drags you into his lap with ease. Normally you’d squeal at being manhandled like this. Now you just melt into him.

James keeps one hand on your lower back and the other finds one of yours, weaving your fingers together in your lap. “You wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?”

You’d rather just hug him forever, if you’re being honest. While he’d like that too, you know you should probably tell him.

“Um,” you say, and then stop as soon as you start because your voice is all thick and thinking about it makes you want to start crying again.

James rubs your back. “Take your time, sweetness. M’here all night.”

You wheedle your arms around his waist and bury your face in his shoulder. It’s easier like this. Where you can’t see his face, where he can’t see yours. You talk into his shirt.

“It’s just. I— I try so hard to be friendly and I feel like it all goes to waste.” It feels both embarrassing and relieving to say aloud. You push your face further into James’ shirt. “Nobody likes me at work, James. I’m awful at making friends. I can’t— can’t keep a conversation or say more than two sentences without getting … awkward.” You say the word like it’s a curse. It sure feels like a curse. “I don’t know. It’s just hard.”

James doesn’t say anything for a moment, though his hands don’t stop where they’re smoothing over your skin. After a beat of silence he manages to encourage you from his chest. He pulls his hand from around your back to take your damp face in both hands. He’s looking at you all melty and soft. Looking a bit like he might cry himself.

“Sweetheart,” he says, and he says it like it’s your name. “You’re not awful at making friends.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re the loveliest girl I’ve ever met, you know that?”

You frown. Partly because you don’t believe him. Mostly because he’s calling you lovely and it makes your chest ache.

“That doesn’t mean I’m good at making friends, Jamie. It’s— they’re so hard to talk to. I can’t make myself do it.”

James sighs. His thumbs drag under your eyes carefully and come away wet. “You’re being too hard on yourself, angel. You’re doing your best and that’s all that matters.”

You almost believe him. Almost.

“I feel invisible, James,” you admit quietly. “Like I don’t even exist.”

He sighs again and drops his hand to your hip, squeezes and then grabs your thigh so he can pull it over his lap so you’re straddling him. It makes you equal parts melty and shy. You’re barely clothed and he’s making you straddle him. You think he’s doing it on purpose, because he knows you’ll listen to him like this. It’s practically impossible not to.

“Darling,” he says. His hands finds your waist and push around to your lower back. Warm and firm. Grounding. “If they can’t see how amazing you are, then that’s their fault. But I see you. I see how amazing you are.”

Your eyes sting all over again. You blink rapidly. “James.”

“Seriously, angel,” he insists. “You’re incredible. My favourite person in the whole entire world. I love you so much. You know that.”

You don’t want to start crying again. You blink away the tears forming in your eyes and will the next ones not to come.

“Give it time,” James says quietly. “Give it time, honey, and they’re sure to warm up to you. And if they don’t …” He shrugs and gives you this devilish smile that makes you feel about a million times better. “Well, they’ll have me to answer to.”

You giggle because he’s an idiot and you’re in love with him. “Thanks, James,” you say. You meant it with your whole heart.

James kisses your forehead and then both your cheeks. “You’re welcome, sweetness. If you need to talk about it more later, we can.” He chucks you under the chin with a gentle hand. “But for now, how about a nice warm shower?”

You smile up at him. Your chest hurts less now. You feel a lot better. Enough at least to say, “Together?”

James grins wolfishly. “Obviously together.”

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zarasu · 1 month

Text

Romantic bingqiu with queerplatonic liushen and eventual queerplatonic bingliushen, pretend relationship

---

When Binghe is in the abyss, Lqg gets into a bit of a conundrum.

Political peak lord reasons make him have to find a partner, as quickly as possible. Seeing his friend strangely upset about him, Sqq goes to reassure him that he could get any girl he wants and gets an awkward confession instead that Lqg, in fact, isn’t interested in anyone either romantically or sexually and probably never will be. Sqq, bro that he is, makes a suggestion. They’re going to pretend to be a couple so Lqg doesn’t have to get together with anyone that would have expectations.

This goes surprisingly well. Lqg visits Sqq so often that he might as well live in the bamboo house too and no one doubts that they’re a couple. They get along well after a few initial hiccups and quickly grow very fond of each other until they’re inseparable.

After almost two years of all that, Binghe returns from the abyss and, through the power of communication and Lqg’s bluntness, makes up with Sqq and returns to Qing Jing Peak as a disciple, miraculously recovered from death.

At this point, Binghe doesn’t feel entitled to his Shizun’s love, so when he finds out that Liushen are “together”, he quietly accepts it even though his heart breaks a little.

Several months pass that look somewhat like this:

Lqg goes on hunts, brings Sqq back interesting things and is overall very content with his life. He also expects Sqq to eventually get together with the disciple he acted like a grieving widow about for so long. He’s secure enough in his relationship with Sqq to know that it won’t change that much, even when Bingqiu happens.

Sqq is ecstatic that Binghe is back and that he has somewhat forgiven him. He can’t stop touching him and making him spend time with Sqq and squeezing as much time and attention out of Binghe as he can while wondering why he still wants more. He’s also very confused as to why he keeps getting upset when Binghe talks too much to any girl or is out of his sight for more than two hours. Lastly, Binghe seems strangely down, but Sqq is sure it’s just the lingering trauma from the abyss. He also keeps the fact that his relationship with Lqg is purely queerplatonic a secret, partly because he barely even remembers these days that they’re pretending to be romantic and partly because he doesn’t want to betray Lqg’s trust.

Meanwhile, Binghe is devastated every time he sees Liushen being tender or comfortable with each other and more or less depressed the rest of the time. He looks at Sqq yearningly 16 hours a day and cries into his pillow every night. He hates Lqg with all of his soul, but can’t even find that much fault with him except that he doesn’t cook or clean for Sqq and that he doesn’t flatter and admire Sqq enough and that he isn’t jealous enough and does Sqq even feel loved???

He goes through a whole arc of cooking and cleaning for Sqq before he realises that it makes him too sad to do that when Sqq will never return his love. He also decimates three entire demon clans and the demon realm is weeping and desperately trying to find Binghe a bride so he’ll calm down.

It all comes to a head when Binghe decides he can’t take it anymore and packs his little rucksack to leave Qing Jing Peak. He only gets halfway down the mountain before Lqg catches him in the act and confronts him because: Is he going to abandon Sqq? Does he not love him after all??

Binghe tensely tells him that he doesn’t need to worry, Binghe isn’t going to try and steal him from Lqg. He was just about to leave.

Lqg replies that he better get his butt back up there and explains the situation to him.

Having his worldview rearranged, Binghe quietly goes back to the dorms and takes a few days to process the information. Lqg and Sqq are together but not romantically? Not even sexually? Binghe isn’t quite sure how someone can be with Sqq in a purely platonic way but he’s prepared to accept it. It takes him a while, but eventually, he reaches the conclusion that: if he has the chance to be with Sqq as long as he accepts that Lqg is going to be a part of their life too, he’s gonna take it.

Meanwhile, Lqg has told Sqq all of his confrontation with Binghe and Sqq is highkey panicking. What if Binghe hates him now for being gay for him? Probably gay. Admittedly, likely gay. What if he’s disgusted with him?? He wavers between going to talk to Binghe about it and avoiding him at all costs.

In the end, it’s Binghe who confronts him and they have a long talk that ends with them snogging on the floor, Binghe crying, and two emotionally constipated love confessions.

It takes some time, but the three find a way to fit together. Bingqiu are unbearable the first while and Lqg goes on many, many hunts to not hear anything he doesn’t want to hear. But, eventually, Lqg returns to being a frequent visitor and even spends the night there now and then. Binghe grows… fond… of Lqg. He supposes. At least somewhat. Lqg thinks Binghe is a little strange, but he’s Lqg’s now, so that’s alright. Sqq can be a bit strange too. Bingqiu are still unbearable, but what can you do? In the end, they’re happy in their own way, all three of them.

#svsss #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #liu qingge #ace lqg #ficlet #fic idea #queerplatonic relationships #romantic bingqiu #queerplatonic liushen and bingliushen #short

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lost-in-lamentation · 7 months

Note

It probably isn't the best pair, but could I suggest "I'll take over from here, you go rest" with Mammon?

(Or with Lucifer if it comes easier)

(Writer's block is a pain, I hope you can defeat that beast soon and I wish you a good day)

a/n: thank you for the well wishes anon (´ω｀) also praying that i can defeat it soon ..

prompt #2: mammon + “i’ll take over from here, you go rest.”

content: tired reader who needs some extra help getting errands done.

warnings: brief dizziness for the reader.

comfort. mammon x gen!reader (you/your).

you groaned internally when your d.d.d. pinged with a loud notification. during your study time, you always kept it on silent, with the exception of lucifer’s contact allowed to bypass the do not disturb settings. if your phone was going off, it meant lucifer had another task for you. with a sigh, you tapped your screen awake, groaning again when you saw that lucifer wanted you to run to multiple stores. you replied back with a quick “okay”, not wanting to stir lucifer’s mood. before heading out, you stopped by mammon’s room, poking your head through the doorway. a call of his name had the room responding in silence, and you realised a few seconds later that his car wasn’t in the room either. guess he’s out doing who knows what, you thought to yourself.

adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you set out for your first errand, which in hindsight, should have been your last. you weren’t sure what went through your head when you decided on the grocery store first. the amount of food for beel alone had you stopping for breaks as you carried the bags around. the second stop wasn’t much better; lucifer had definitely underestimated how many packages were at the postal office for pick up. the demon at the front desk had half a mind to ask if you needed assistance to take everything back, but with the cost of extra shipping, you end up grumbling “no thanks,” before putting on a strained smile and hauling your belongings out to the street.

you weighed your options once you got outside. beel would definitely be able to carry most of this, but he’d snack on the groceries before you even got halfway home. lucifer was not to be disturbed, of course. satan would most likely be holed up in his room reading, while levi would be playing games. mammon was nowhere to be found, and as for asmo and belphie; “out of the question,” you huffed. sighing despondently, you stuffed as much as you could into your backpack before sliding all the bag handles around your forearms. the weight made you dizzy and had you teetering dangerously from side to side. your teeth broke skin as you bit down on your lip, the effort of staying up and trying to hold everything going far past your abilities. finally, you took a shaky step forward, but a particularly heavy bag swung too far in front, sending you barreling towards the ground. you had given up, accepting your fate of crashing into a muddy puddle when a shriek from up ahead caught your attention.

you felt arms circle tightly around your torso, and your head landed on a shoulder you were very familiar with. “oh, mammon?” you practically slurred the question, your mind not all where it should be.

“that’s all ya have to say?!” mammon shouted at full volume, despite being right next to you. “seriously human, what are you even doin’ with all this?” he grunted with the effort to set you upright, tugging the bags off your arms and forcing you to get rid of the backpack that was dragging you down.

“lucifer asked me to run errands,” you said quietly, your hand clasping mammon’s shoulder to stabilise yourself. you failed to notice the red dusting mammon’s cheeks as you gripped even tighter.

the white haired demon hooked an arm around your waist in response, holding you up. “and you decided that you could carry all this?” mammon chided quietly when you shook your head, his gaze softening when he saw how quiet you were becoming. “okay, okay, come on. can you walk? my car’s over there.”

you blinked your vision back into focus, now seeing the way mammon had parked. you weren’t sure if you could say he parked at all, with the way it was practically on the sidewalk. “mammon, why’s your car-?”

“don’t ask, just get in there. i’ll take the stuff over,” he muttered, pushing you gently away before leaning down and grabbing a number of the grocery bags. by the time you had settled into the passenger seat, mammon was back with the second round of items, piling it into his trunk carefully. he headed back again for the remaining few, throwing what couldn’t fit in the trunk onto the backseat. “that would be a lot for even beel, ya know,” he exhaled, getting into the driver's seat next to you. “what else is on that list from my dear, older brother?”

“eh? weren’t you going out somewhere else?” you asked, not wanting to interrupt his day off.

“don’t be stupid,” mammon scoffed. “you nearly died just trying to hold everything.” you opened your mouth to protest, but mammon had his hand covering it before you could utter a word. “no. you look like you haven’t slept in ages so… i’ll take over from here. it’s just errands anyway. you need to get some rest.” mammon wasn’t gentle in his scolding, but the concern in his eyes told another story. “i’m taking you home.”

you pushed his hand away, giving him a hard stare. “i’m coming with you.”

the second born cursed his sin; of course he would let you stay. greed came in the way he never wanted you to leave. the tips of his ears turned pink, admitting defeat before he could. “fine. but you’re sleeping in the car until we get to the next store.”

“mammon, the next store is like, five minutes from here.”

“shut up. i’m taking the scenic route.”

a/n: and so, mammon drove around for an hour instead of taking you directly to the store

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

prompt list here.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x you #aris writes 🐈‍⬛

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system-to-the-madness · 4 months

Text

Gravity - Rober Capa x Reader

Pairing: Rober Capa x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) AU: EveryoneLives!AU Genre: fluff Word Count: 1 399 Summary: Capa finally gets to hold you in his arms A/N: Be warned. This is less a fic than… a flow of thoughts really. It started out with the idea that the gravity on the Icarus is probably slightly different from Earth’s, and grew from there.

Masterlist

Robert Capa, who knows he's in trouble when halfway to the sun he realises he's fallen in love with you, his crewmate. He's fairly certain you're flirting with him, a little at least, but he never dares to act on his feelings. You're stuck on very limited space after all and if things go south between the two of you (as south as things can go in open space without poles) the whole crew would suffer from the tension. So he sits it out, restricts himself to the little touches when you hand each other things, and relishes in the feeling of your breath fanning over his neck when you lean over his shoulder to see what he's working on.

But he can't help but imagine what it would feel like to fall asleep besides you. He imagines the way your breathing pattern would disturb the monotone humming of the electronics around him, would breathe life into the mechanical darkness surrounding him. He imagines how it would feel when you were to let him rest his head on your chest, listening to the small sounds of you living body under his. The sound of your heart and breath, the little noises your stomach makes. He imagines feeling the warmth of your skin bleeding through the synthetic fibres of your uniform pyjamas. And he imagines what if would feel like if the arm he wishes he could drape over your waist were being pulled down not by artificial but by the natural gravity of earth, a nice, familiar 9.81m/s^2.

He never acts on these daydreams, never mentions them to anyone, doesn't even note them down in the dairy he's obligated to keep. In fact, he's almost a little ashamed for these thoughts, these desires. The desire to feel another living human being close while drifting through open, unliving space, to wrap someone - you - in his arms. So, he keeps pretending everything is normal, even when his breath catches in his throat whenever he sees you, even when his heartrate increases whenever he thinks of you.

When the payload is set of, and the Icarus on its way back to earth, when the realisation sets in that you made it, you're still alive and on your way home, he hugs you tightly. For the first time, he allows himself to hold you longer than would be appropriate, and he buries his face in your neck, shuddering at how you keep your hands wrapped in his shirt. That night you knock on the door to his bedroom and ask if he can hold you. Against better judgement, he agrees, lets you slip into bed with him, and there you lay in his arms, innocently enough. It's not what he imagined it to be like. But it's definitely nice and warm. A lot warmer than his dark room would be otherwise. He doesn't sleep that night, stays up instead, listening to the even breaths you take, feeling the little twitches when you dream. But his arm is around your waist, not as heavy as it would be on earth, but it's enough for now.

It's not until 16 months later, right before you're supposed to climb into the capsule that brings you from the earth's orbit down to the ground, that you suddenly turn to him. In the past months, you slept almost every night in his narrow bed together with him, and in the nights that you didn’t, he slept in your bed besides you. It was never more than that, holding each other, talking in hushed voices, staring at each other with only a few inches separating your faces. You talked about earth, about what you wanted to do when you're back down there. You wanted to see flowers again, he wanted to eat ramen again, you wanted to go on long walks through green forests, he wanted to hold you every night. The last confession slipped over his lips only in the last night on the Icarus, as if it were his last chance to tell you. You didn’t say anything in return, only smiled at him and nodded.

So, when you turn to him right before you are supposed to climb into the capsule, he isn't sure what he is supposed to expect. A rejection perhaps? A friendly "Thanks for the cuddles, but that's it"? Instead, you lean forward, right into his face. "Kiss me?" It's a question, but not really. It's a demand. And not one he would ever consider refusing. He seals his lips to yours, short but urgently. And then you climb into the capsule, followed by him, sit through being shot through the earth's atmosphere, and you're reaching for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. That action makes his heart beat faster than the thought of the quickly approaching ground. The first time you see the sun again, without being separated from it by thick layers of glass, Capa thinks his heart is melting in his chest. He didn't think it would be possible to see sunlight like this again, all warm and safe and bright. And especially not while holding your hand in his.

What follows your arrival on earth are a quick meeting with your families, but Capa can only focus on his sister for so long before his eyes are being drawn back to you. Then there are debriefings, not one, not two, but three, all on the same day. When all he really wants to do is lay down, pull you down next to him, and feel his arm being pulled against your body by the earth’s gravity. But instead, he has to sit in these meetings, knowing that tomorrow there will be more of those. He literally just returned from space, saving the earth. Can't they give him a break? He catches your eyes, and you smile amused as if you had read his thoughts and want to say "just accept your fate, it will be over eventually."

But the meetings are being followed up by a dinner with some politicians, and he swears he hears someone comment on his long hair and your unplucked eyebrows and he almost blows up. But then there's your hand on his leg, squeezing his knee gently under the table, and he takes a deep breath of air, air that is not filtered through a survival-support system, and he swallows down his anger.

It all pays off, as it turns out. The meetings, the dinner, the following interview. All of it on the same day that you arrived back from space. It pays off when he finally gets to step foot into his own hotel room, gets to take a proper shower with warm water and shampoo and soap as much as he likes. It pays of when he just slips into the soft cotton pyjama and there's a knock on his door and when he opens it, it's you, standing in front of him, dressed in the same white, cotton pyjama. It pays off, when you wrap your arms around his neck, and whisper "yes" when he asks to kiss you. It pays off, when he pulls you towards his bed, and drops down on it, pulling you next to him. It all pays off, when you cover the two of you with the fluffy blanket, nothing like the thin fleece blankets aboard the Icarus. And when your head hits the pillow, you let him rest his head on your chest, his arms around your waist. He can hear your heartbeat and your even breaths, even the little sounds your stomach makes as it works quietly. You smell of the same hotel issued soap and shampoo that he also used, but somehow you small warmer than him, he thinks. He can't help the sigh on his lips, when you run your fingers through his hair, carding through the long, dark strands. His head is heavy on your chest. Your hand is heavy on his head. His arms are heavy on your waist. This was what he imagined. The in unrelenting force of the earth's gravity, pulling the two of you together, on the planet you traveled millions of miles for to save. And the irrational part of him, the hopelessly romantic part of him, can't help but think that he travelled all this way just to be with you.

#mad sunshine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #robert capa x reader #robert capa x you #robert capa x yn #robert capa x y/n

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careful-wish · 2 months

Text

I know that Eddie had to die bc plot reasons yada yada

But they could have done that in season 5. We had so many deaths deaths in 4 (tho Max did end up living). The stakes are higher in season 5 and having a beloved character die halfway through would have had such an emotional impact

But also Eddie and Argyle not being included in season 5 with the other older kids feel like a joke, especially Argyle.

Nancy is the only one of the older teens (now young adults) to have a real close friendship with someone (Barb). Could probably argue Eddie too bc of Gareth, Jeff, and that other guy in Hellfire but they're younger than him so Idk how long they've been friends or how close they actually are.

In s4, though it's through super unlikely circumstances, Eddie does develop friendships with Steve, Nancy, and Robin. Probably, he already has had some interaction with Robin and Jonathan in the past due to the fact all three were considered weirdos or freaks (Jonathan was The School Freak(tm)) but he had no interaction with Jonathan this season.

Jonathan after being apart from Nancy for a few months then meets Argyle and they become pretty close mates, weed aside. Jonathan finally has someone he can talk to and open up to, and you can tell Argyle genuinely does care for Jonathan and is a LITERAL ride-or-die for him.

Why, WHY did they take Eddie and Argyle away? Yeah, we get the monster-hunting trio back in s5 along with Robin and Vickie in the group, but why'd they take Argyle away? He is also wanted by the government and knows everything. We're just going back to Jonathan having no friends, Nancy really having to confront what happened to Barb, and only Steve having a best mate? Why does Steve get to keep his best friend and Jonathan doesn't?

Also, the group would have been a little bigger than the Party but the dynamics and just absolute chaos would have been amazing.

Steve realising he is absolutely outnumbered by nerds and that he is not the leader, that role goes to Nancy and her babygurl Jonathan.

Vickie being introduced in a group that has several very loud ppl (Steve, Argyle, Robin), joins them immediately and Jonathan goes insane bc the four chatter like kookaburras at three am.

Nancy insisting they need to be discreet and Argyle explaining that while yeah, having an all black van would be cool but bad guys have those too and they would blend in better with a pizza van bc "Who would question the pizza man, Wheeler?"

Eddie secretly having tons of respect for Jonathan and nearly falls over himself trying to make up for the fact he tried to push another guy at Jonathan's girlfriend. Also develops similar respect for Nancy and feels guilty after seeing how happy Nancy is with Jonathan, and also realising it was never his, Robin, Steve, or anyone else's decision what Nancy does or who she wants to be with, it's all her.

Vickie learning about everything but still not knowing the kids very well and fellow newcomer Argyle is like "Idk about the others but Little Byers and Wheelie-boy are good, and of course our amazing super-powered little friend"

Steve discreetly being a terrible wingman for Robin without accidentally outing her. She comes out to Nancy first, then Argyle on accident after they have a weed sesh ("You're good, Batman's sidekick, boobies are great"), and of course ends up with Vickie.

Mike being the one of the Party Vickie ends up bonding with the most, mainly so they can make fun of Steve together but also other reasons

Anyway, we were robbed of these seven chaos nerds being a group together.

And if Eddie were to die halfway through, the turmoil. Dies similar to s4, Dustin is there, but it not only affects Dustin and Hellfire, but the other six he'd started becoming close with.

#i should just write a fic shouldn't i #stranger things #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #jonathan byers #robin buckley #eddie munson #argyle stranger things #vickie stranger things #jancy #stoncy #steddie #rockie #rovickie #robin x vickie

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imahinatjon · 3 months

Note

MAYBEEEEE another version of them with an s/o who has adhd including fyodor sigma nikolai and MAYBEEE dazai? Lots of love ❤️

Thank you for another request ♡

2nd part to this one - https://www.tumblr.com/imahinatjon/738986103250485248/ok-hi-im-back-what-about-jouno-and-tecchou-with?source=share

I feel like since I've already done 2, I'll do some more. Even if it doesn't represent a reader with adhd perfectly, I like how they've been turning out.

That being said, Dazai isn't in this one, he'll be in a third one.

Hope its good. It took longer than expected :3

Fyodor/Nikolai/Sigma

Fyodor

• If he was a bit more considerate. If he was a BIT nicer. He'd probably be the best person for you to be around in like... the whole world.

• But he isn't, so he's not.

• Doesn't mean he doesn't love you and doesn't mean your going to be made to feel uncomfortable.

• Or... you will at first, until you realise that how he's acting is just typical Fyodor behaviour.

• I personally believe fyodor could and would talk a LOT. If there's a topic he's interested in, or thinks your interested in he'll talk about it until there is nothing else he can say. Doesn't care if you stop listening halfway through.

• He's having his monologue, thank you.

• Don't worry though, if your prone to doing that sort of thing too, he will listen to you talk also. It's only fair.

• He'll listen until you say something wrong. Like, get a fact wrong or if something you say doesn't quite make sense.

• He'll correct you. He means no harm (no real harm anyway), he just finds your embarrassment kinda cute, but he also thinks you should be informed, so you don't get embarrassed infront of other people.

• He doesn't like constant fidgeting. It IS annoying to him. But it's you, and given that he enjoys your company enough, he'll tolerate it. Won't even mention it.

• He likes to play cello for you, and it's so beautiful and enchanting sometimes that you'll sit infront of him watching and listening for hours.

• Even if you don't like that kind of music typically, there's just something about him playing for you that commands your attention.

• He won't keep you too long though.

• All in all? It's a good relationship. He MIGHT be controlling, and MAY be inconsiderate (at times) but he actually cares.

Nikolai

• You have an abundance of energy? So does he!

• Your easily distracted? So is he!

• He's not you, but, I feel like you match eachothers energy.

• Nikolai doesn't like it when you zone out. You aren't responding to him, which makes talking a little weird, but he talks anyway, about anything and everything. May even slip a few major secrets in here and there. He's not worried though, he knows you aren't listening.

• Nikolai likes to take you out, go to different places.

• Like an amusement Park.

• There's lots to do, plenty to see, assuming you don't have a crippling fear of rollercoasters.

• Neither of you are going to get bored.

• There are no breaks. Aside from one to go and get food - you'll have to insist on that though.

• He also takes you up to the Sky Casino.

• You two cause a lot of trouble for sigma.

• See, the guy doesn't recognise you, nikolai didn't exactly tell the others about your relationship status.

• So, you can get in the casino, with a little bit of money. Meaning, you can cause havoc.

• You have done it a few times. Riled up a few of the customers, caused a scene. Using the words nikolai has been feeding to you.

• You might end up on a ban list.

• But it's all in good fun!

Sigma

• So, Sigma is like... he's going to be there for you, always. Its one of his life goals.

• Priority = casino + you

• You spend most your time in the casino because of your relation to him, the manager.

• Also means he can keep a better eye on you.

• He knows you so well. He's not the best at the whole relationship thing, and he has a casino to manage. But he tries his hardest, and likes to be well informed.

• Because of him, you never get into any trouble.

• Like, you might say something a little uncouth or rude, but there's always someone there to stop others from lashing out at you.

• There's also always someone around for when you trip over something you did not see, or bump into someone you didn't realise.

• It's not always Sigma, but he tries to be there when he can be. He is a busy man afterall.

• But, you do spend a fair amount of time together.

• If you like crafts, and have many different projects on the go all at the same time. He's always happy to listen to what you have to say about it.

• He'll enthusiastically praise whatever it is you've done during these small projects.

• He even funds it sometimes. If it'll keep you happy and out of danger (some customers can be rather unkind), he'll get you all that's necessary, even if you don't finish it.

• You two also have 'calm time'

• That's what he calls it anyway.

• It's where you two sit down or lie down together, cuddling, and he listens to you talk about your day.

• Even if you go off track a bit, he likes listening to what you have to say, even better if you have no filter, because you hold nothing back and it's just so interesting!

• Plus your voice is nice.

• If you ask, he WILL tell you about his day, but it may take some coaxing. He doesn't want to bore you.

• Assure him it's not boring. Even if it's a lie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Good? Hopefully 😅

#imagine #fanfic #bungou stray dogs #x reader #sigma x reader #fyodor x reader #nikolai x reader

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thebibutterflyao3 · 2 months

Text

Day Twelve - Prompt: Iced @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 674 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

When he stepped out of the shower, Barty was relieved to smell ramen. He’d fully expected Frank to opt for something absurdly spicy that he’d regret eating later. There was no point in pretending that he would have eaten it anyway. Barty couldn’t be bothered to cook.

“Crouch, are you decent?” Frank called.

“Morally? No. Physically? Also, no.”

Frank’s chuckle echoed down the hall. “Well, put your pants on and join me in the garden.”

By the time he reached the back door, Frank had a substantial meal spread out on the metal table set up on the patio facing their small, private garden. The small patch of fenced in grass was a little depressing in the winter, but it was better than nothing.

“Picked up an iced drink for you too,” Frank said, pushing the cup toward him. “Bit late for coffee, but you look like you could use it.”

Barty dropped into a chair and reached for the bright pink drink gratefully. “Thanks. I don’t remember the last time I ate a fruit, to be honest.”

“That tracks.”

Halfway through the meal, Barty realised that Frank was watching him eat. He ignored it. Frank didn’t understand him, not really. He knew Barty, but he couldn’t begin to fathom why he did the things he did. Not like Evan did.

Fuck, I miss him.

“Alright, mate?”

Barty shrugged as he scooped another bite of ramen into his mouth. The longer he could put off this conversation, the better. He knew that Frank would give him a world of shite about the ulcer. Living with a “health conscious” bloke was a nightmare sometimes.

Frank cocked his head to the side and studied him as he bit into a sushi roll. Of the dozen or so rolls that he’d bought, Barty managed to keep down three. This was probably the healthiest meal that he’d eaten since he left the flat a week ago.

“Why are you wincing?”

Barty glanced up at him. “Wincing?”

“Every few bites, you’re wincing like it hurts. Bad tooth?” Frank guessed.

“No. Ulcer, I think.”

“Ulcer? Did you see a doctor?”

Barty levelled an unimpressed look at his flatmate, then shovelled more rice into his mouth. The rice was filling and his stomach seemed to tolerate it a bit better than anything else. He’d avoided the eggs altogether though. That felt like tempting fate.

“Of course not,” Frank said, shaking his head. “Did the drive help at all?”

“What do you think?”

Frank considered him for a beat, then sighed. “You made it worse, didn’t you?”

“Of course I fucking did.”

He should know better by now. I am a class A fuck-up. There is no “helping” myself anymore, just trying to mitigate the damage.

“Barty, when are you going to admit that you need therapy?”

“That’s rather obvious, I’d think,” Barty snarked, taking a long sip of his drink. It was very good and soothed his belly nicely. “There’s no point whinging over it to some overpaid twat. It won’t change anything.”

“It could change things.”

Barty waved his chopsticks dismissively. He didn’t need therapy, he needed Evan.

“Mate, you can’t just ignore your trauma.”

“Sure I can. How do you think I’ve made it this far?”

Frank frowned, his forehead creased with deep furrows. “What does that mean? You’ve survived? That’s the bare fucking minimum.”

Barty shrugged it off and focused on his ramen. Considering how close he’d come to throwing himself into the Bristol Channel earlier today, surviving was good enough. Some days it was an actual accomplishment to continue existing in this hellscape that he called a life.

Evan made this shite life worth it.

The thought landed like a punch to the gut and Barty had to steady himself to stay upright. He set the chopsticks down and folded his arms on the table as his mind whirled. Without Evan, he had nothing to look forward to for the foreseeable future.

I need to fix this. How the actual fuck am I going to fix this?

Next Part>>>

#barty crouch jr x evan rosier #evan x barty #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #barty jr #barty x evan #evan rosier #rosekiller #rosekiller microfic

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hamartia-grander · 6 months

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Number one Ada Wong fan I’m scurrying up to you as a pathetic lover of the blonde sad lil guy. I just wanted to know. Why do you think Ada kissed him in re2??????????

Ada showed signs of genuinely being attracted to Leon, though maybe not as much as he clearly was to her. That being said, I honestly think it was a tactic that she considered would be effective in getting Leon to stop talking, and also giving him the boost of confidence he was clearly in need of. She could tell he was attracted to her (who wouldn't be😩), and even if those feelings might've been reciprocated in the slightest, Ada would never have allowed herself that kind of affection if it wasn't advantageous to her situation. Maybe she also enjoyed it a little, but her purpose for kissing him was to encourage him to finally get off her back in a way that would be helpful to her. Leon spends the entire game after they meet trying to follow Ada around and "help" her when she never asks for it nor needs it, and even when she eventually allows him to tag along, it's reluctant - and she's always on edge, always looking for a way out. She knew they'd have to separate eventually, and the the sooner the better, because Leon was not just a cop, he was also a naïve young man who wanted to be the hero, and that was detrimental to Ada's mission from the start.

Ada is incredibly smart and perceptive, and so she realises about halfway through that her tactics to get Leon off her back have all failed and only gotten him to want to help her more. So she switches gears, allows him along, starts to actually care about him against her will, and then realises that because of Leon's hero instincts, she could get him to help from a distance by playing up her injury. She never goes so far as to be out of character (telling him not to push it when he offers to carry her) but she definitely could've completed her mission without him, and when she walks up to him towards the end, she's hardly limping. But despite wanting to help her the whole time, when she finally gives Leon something to do, he begins arguing that he shouldn't get involved (which is what Ada was telling him the whole time. Lol.) Whether he was aware of it or not (and he honestly probably wasn't aware of it) he was looking for her validation, he just wasn't giving her the chance to say anything. So she shut him up with a kiss, that he very much liked, and used his dazed state to encourage him.

Again, I'm not saying she didn't also enjoy it - we know she certainly cared a lot about him, to the point where she was willing to forfeit her entire mission just because she couldn't kill him. (And I could also talk forever about how faking her death was not just to benefit her but also to help Leon move on but that's another discussion). My point is that Ada wouldn't have kissed Leon just because she wanted to. She'd have to have another reason, another motive that was pertinent to her job, in order to do something like that. And her guess was right, because it worked in her favour.

We do also have to be aware of capcom's misogyny, and how they've always used Ada's character to be the mysterious, sexy love interest of Leon's and nothing else. Now she does get to be more, she does get to be her own character, but they still can't stop tying her to Leon. So this explanation of mine is an attempt to explain the in-game reasoning behind Ada's actions as a character, ignoring capcom's reasoning of having Ada kiss Leon just because they wanted that to happen all along. If that makes sense

Thank you for this ask!!! I love Ada asks

#Ada Wong #Sorry I wrote a mini essay I just love her so much and I think about everything about her constantly #resident evil #Resident evil 2 #Resident evil 2 remake #Re2 #Re2 remake #Re2r #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #I'm also not an aeon shipper so tbh my analysis is going to be more focused on the canon of Ada's character #rather than be influenced by a ship preference #No hate to aeon stans but y'all really do not consider Ada as a character at all most of the time

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thelov3lybookworm · 10 months

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You Desrve Better (part two)

Part one

Althea built her courage up as she neared Rhys's office. She knew he'd be sad and furious, knew he'd try to stop her from leaving. He was stubborn like that. But if he was stubborn, so was she. She would leave, even if it meant she'd have to leave without his consent.

These past weeks had been a shit show to say the least. Trying to avoid Azriel everywhere she went was hard, and it was taking a toll on her. She had almost locked herself in her room for the whole day countless times now due to the embarrassment of her misunderstanding. But she knew that if she did that, someone would come to get her, and she didn't have the energy to explain things to the busybodies that were the inner circle.

She was so lost in her thinking about what she would say to Rhys to convince him to let her go, she didn't realise she was standing right outside the door to his office. The noise of a glass hitting the floor and breaking pulled Althea from her thoughts about what he would think about her decision, and she finally lifted her hand to knock on the door to Rhysand's office. Everything went silent.

She waited for sometime before knocking again. "Rhysie open up. I know you're in there. If you don't, I'll let myself in, and you'll like that a lot less–"

The door swung open silently before she could finish. She walked in and surveyed the mess created on the floor by the glass that had broken. Sighing, she looked up at Rhysand, taking in his halfway unbuttoned shirt, tousled hair and wildly beating pulse. He was standing in front of his desk, looking like a boy who was caught doing something that his mother had specifically told him not to do.

"Tell whoever you are hiding in here to wait outside, I need to tell you something."

"What could be so important that it couldn't have waited until the morning?" He looked extremely pissed now. "What could be so important that–"

"If you would shut up and let me speak, maybe you'd know. Send them out."

"Tell me now. She isn't going out."

"Rhysand, its either she goes out or I do. And you will definitely not like me leaving this place without telling you."

His brows furrowed before he cleared his throat. "Please wait outside, darling. I'll call you back in.

"The closet behind him opened and out came a beautiful female, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She gave Althea a disgusted look before walking out and closing the door behind her. Althea followed her every move before turning back to Rhysand.

"This better be something good." Rhys said.

"Trust me it is." She folded her arms, taking a deep breath. She put a spell for masking anything they say to prying ears before continuing. "I'm leaving. I would like to travel the continent, then maybe go to Vallahan. I–"

"What? Why?"

"Let me finish speaking Rhys." She jabbed her finger at him. "I won't be coming back unless I wish to. I will be writing letters to you, if you want, that is. Also, I don't want you to send people after me because I can take care of myself. Get it?"

"But why Thea? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing’s wrong Rhys. I just wish to explore the world out of Velaris and Night Court. Is that so bad? Wanting to see the lives that probably are completely different from ours?"

"That is not the only reason, is it?"

She sighed. He knew her too well to accept her dumb excuse. "Rhys. I'm tired. Tired of trying to hide from Azriel and what I felt for him. I need time to process everything that's been going on. Please. I promise I will come back. Someday." She wanted to kick herself for saying the last part, knowing that he had heard it. Any chance she would have had of leaving was now gone.

"Someday? No Thea. I'm not letting you leave. Stay with us. I'm sure we'll figure something out. You just– just wait. You'll forget it. You'll forget him. I'm–"

"Please Rhysie–"

"No. I'm not letting you put your life in jeopardy just because a guy rejected you. We'll get through it together, I swear."

It was inevitable, she knew. Him trying to stop her. And because she didn't want to argue, because they'd be here all night then, and she still had some packing to do, she nodded. He raised his eyebrows and she sighed before nodding again. He held out his arms, and she stepped into them, resting her head on his shoulder. She stayed there a moment longer before stepping back. She gave him a reassuring smile, then turned to leave. Just before she exited the office, she turned back to Rhys.

"You know I love you, right?"

"Of course I do sister. I love you too." She nodded before returning to her room.

•○🌑○•

Rhys's pov

She lied.

Althea had lied to him.

And he cursed himself for not realising it before. Maybe it was the previous day's tiring events. Maybe it was his lust addled brain and the beautiful female waiting for him. Either way, it didn't excuse him not paying attention to his sister.

He'd been woken up by Nuala, asking him why Althea was standing in the garden with a bag. It took him a moment to understand, but when he did, he jumped out of bed and started pulling on his pants, not caring that Nuala was still in the room. He winnowed right to the front steps of the house, and saw Althea at the gates.

"No." It came out as a broken whisper, his throat closing up as Althea stepped out of the protective bubble surrounding the Town House. He wasn't sure anyone could have heard him, but she did. She turned to him as he tried to make his way to her, stumbling over his own feet.

She had tears streaming down her face. She shook her head, giving him a shaky smile, mouthing the words 'I'm sorry'. Before...

She vanished.

•○🌑○•

She still heard his voice.

The tiny, broken no that made her turn and look at him.

She still remembered the look his face.

The look on Rhys's face as he fell to his knees, opening his mouth to say something to her, before the darkness had consumed her. The hurt. The horror. The realization that she really was leaving. The silver lining his eyes.

It had been ten years, and the memories still haunted her dreams.

She felt guilty and sad for hurting her family, but not regret. Never regret. If she hadn't left that day, she never would have become the person she was today, and she was quite proud of herself.

Althea rubbed her eyes as she got up from her desk, forcing herself to stop thinking of that morning. Finally getting up from her work and wondering what she'd make for dinner after having skipped lunch in favor of reading all the reports sent to her by Rhysand regarding the Illyrian camps, she made her way into the kitchen.

As she prepared a sandwich, the sound of something light dropping on the counter behing her made her turn. A rolled up piece of paper lay there. Rhys had either sent her a new report or a mission. That's how they had been communicating for the past decade. If they wanted to tell each other something, they'd write it down and send it.

For the past year, Althea had settled down in one of the cold mountains of night court, the type where there usually would be Illyrian camps. But this one was secluded enough that there were no camp near her that it they could become a nuisance, but near enough that if she was in danger, she could winnow there easily.

She cleaned her hands before picking the paper up. A new mission. The Skyward Camp, the camp nearest to Velaris, hadn't been sending in the monthly evaluations to the High Lord for the past couple of months. Rhys had tried contacting them by writing to them. Sending people there. But they never came back with any useful information always saying the Lord of the camp sent them away. He wanted her to go there to try and see what was going on, and if they still didn't get any answers, he'd go there himself.

Althea decided she'd leave for Skyward after she finished dinner. She wrote back to Rhys before devouring her sandwiches, packing a bag with the things she'd need and winnowed away.

•○🌑○•

lthea studied the Skyward camp from the forest near it. It was silent. Not in the eerie kind of way, but a peaceful kind of way.

A twig snapped behind her, and immediately her dagger was in her hand as she whipped around. An Illyrian male stepped from the shadows, his wings tucked behind his back.

"Who are you?" The male asked.

"Why should i answer you? Who are you?" Althea retorted.

"Because I asked you a question. And I am the one who looks after the camp when the Lord isn't here."

"Oh. Wait. Are you saying the lord of the camp isnt here?"

"Oh no my dear. I'm not saying that. In fact, he's on his way here. I'm saying that he'll be extremely pissed when he gets here. And so if you don't want to be subjected to his wrath, you should tell me who you are. So, let's do this again. Who are you?"

Before she could say anything, a voice spoke from behind her.

"Tch tch, Kieran. Is that how we speak to our ladies?"

She turned halfway, not wanting to keep her back to the other male, and saw the most beautiful male she ever laid her eyes on.

Dark hair and amber eyes. He gave her a half smile which showed the dimple in his left cheek.

"Hello, sweetheart."

•○🌑○•

(Can you guess who these guys are? Can you tell who this guy with the dimples is?)

Hint: he is from another book series not of sjm

Taglist: @bubybubsters

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