#how are you supposed to feel about your reflection in a face that stars in all your nightmare memories?
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but the thing is, melanie hates jon because he is so very much like her.
they work in adjacent fields, they've got such similar temperaments - they both run straight for whatever supernatural horror they need to understand, they both suck at planning ahead (poisoned coffee, melanie?) and they both lash out as a primary defense mechanism - and jon wasn't qualified for his job, and martin's only "degree" was in paranormal psychology, so clearly the Institute was hiring from a broader pool than "qualified archivists." i can't imagine ghost studies are all that lucrative as a field. if melanie hadn't made it as a youtuber, what would she have done? we don't know a lot about her educational background but - she knows what it's like, to need to know. she walked into the Institute and got a job because Elias saw that he could use her.
If she'd had a legitimate encounter sooner, if she'd started her quest a few years early, if she'd come to the Institute to give her statement and stayed to use their library before Gertrude had died -
Or even if she just couldn't survive on a youtuber's salary, if she'd gone looking for job postings in relevant fields -
It could have been her. She looks at Jon, and she sees exactly who she could have been. It's only luck that it wasn't.
And that's the kicker, isn't it? It's luck, that she's in her shoes instead of Jon's.
And is she supposed to feel lucky? To feel thankful that she's had to suffer through attack after attack, Elias showing her how her father (her dad, who called her his little moth) died screaming, her body torn open by things that don't exist, her sense of self slipping as she ripped into flesh with no recognizable form, her trust violated as she woke up to two of the few remaining people who are supposed to be on her side cutting into her against her will - to feel lucky, because she had to gouge her eyes out just to have her body back in her control -
Is she supposed to be happy that she lived through all that? Is she supposed to be glad, just because she could have been Jon?
Nobody told Melanie she needed to feel sorry for Jon, or give him her sympathy, or any other kind of pity. She just wants to give it, because God, what he'd gone through -
(Thank God it wasn't her -)
- Fuck that, she isn't lucky.
She hates Jon, because she refuses to feel grateful for the horror show her life has been. (Because she's grateful, that it wasn't her; and she's furious, because - yes it was. she paid the price of the apocalypse in blood and scars and trauma, too. She wasn't Jon, and could have been - but fuck it, she was still Melanie. and the hell that she has lived through isn't nothing.)
It's just bad luck, that it was Jon of all people. It's just bad luck, that it was Melanie.
No one here is lucky.
#tma#the magnus archives#tma meta#melanie king#linden's originals#i just have a lot of Feelings ok#tangentially related but one of these days i'm gonna write the post abt basira#bc i love to joke abt jon relying on the local lesbians to make good decisions! it is very fun. but also#incredibly inaccurate. jon made bad decisions (mainly due to a dearth of information and a wealth of fear)#but he didn't make better decisions when he let the wlw take charge!#basira was the one who convinced(/coerced? definitely pressured but details beyond that are lacking) jon into performing surgery#on melanie's leg. left to his own devices idk what jon would have done but it sure as hell wouldn't have been#''roofie my coworker to perform nonconsensual surgery''#if only bc that is Not something that would occur to him. & idc man it's a messy situation all around#there was no good choice there (there never was) but that? that wasn't the right one. and i think that's the other piece at play here#melanie didn't forgive him for that. i sure wouldn't. and she gets it - she does: there were no good choices -#but how is she supposed to care about the suffering that guy of all people went through? when it feels like it invalidates her own?#how are you supposed to feel about your reflection in a face that stars in all your nightmare memories?#melanie hates jon because he never gave her a reason to like him; and because he violated her (no matter how necessary it was); and#because she could have been him. because it's luck that it wasn't.#except there is no good luck in this world. not in this apocalypse - the one that's been going on for much longer for her - for them -#than since that final ritual. she's been living an apocalypse since she saw that monster in a hospital. and that matters too.#not one of them has been free in a long time. maybe ever#melanie can't pity him because feeling ''pity'' requires a level of distance she doesn't have#pity means ''there but for the grace of God go -'' but what grace?#there but for the grace of god go i? is she meant to thank someone for giving her the lot she got in life?#how is she supposed to feel glad about that?#she cannot pity him. and she cannot commiserate; those bridges have long since been burned. all that's left to feel#is a guilty kind of hatred and resentment. because in another life she might've been him; in another life still they might have been twins#linden in the tags
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ EVERWINTER WITHOUT MERCY — TARTAGLIA.
contents. fluff + established relationships, fishing with ajax’s siblings bc they’re everything <3, ajax being a terrible flirt lolsjdjd, he’s implied to be taller than reader, gn! reader, kisses in the snezhnayan cold <3
he’s done it again, you think exasperatedly—teucer’s neck is bare as he walks through the harsh snow, the fabric of his scarf hanging loosely from his shoulders.
“hey, make sure you keep this around your neck,” you scold, wrapping the scarf tightly around teucer’s neck, “you’ll catch a cold.”
he groans a little—but he’s a good kid, listens to you when you tell him enough times, leaning into your hand as you ruffle his hair. you smile fondly as you look down—and then a weight presses against you from behind.
“yeah, teucer,” ajax hums, “you don’t want to catch a cold, do you?”
“i won’t,” the younger boy insists, “colds are for the weak.”
ajax laughs. you can feel the rumble from his chest against your back as he murmurs, “it’s colder than usual teucer. make sure you keep it on.”
“that goes for you too, y’know,” you huff, spinning around to stare unimpressed at him as his own scarf is loose around his neck—ajax has the decency to at least attempt to look guilty.
“oh, i guess you’re right,” he nods, “can’t set a bad example for the kids.”
“and you can’t get sick,” you scoff, “i’m not in the mood to get sick from you.”
“i never get sick,” he says confidently with a wave of his hand, “but—” he starts with a drawl. his words as sickeningly sweet, enough to make your head spin a little from how decadent it is, “it does always stay in place when you do it.”
of course. he’s loosened it on purpose, just so you’ll wrap it for him. he’s exhausting, just a bit—as sly as he is painfully obvious, and it never ceases to make your eyes roll in that way he loves. in that way that makes him chuckle as he leans down a little closer, brows raised.
so you sigh—but there’s the beginning of a smile on your face, the start of a giggle in your voice as you say, “honestly, ajax. you’re shameless.”
“am i?” he grins, hands finding your hips as you reach over and secure the scarf around his neck.
it’s gentle, the way you touch him. the way you carefully work the fabric around his neck. the way you make sure it’s just tight enough to stay in place so he doesn’t catch a cold, but not so tight that it’s uncomfortable.
not many people touch ajax gently—he doesn’t want them to, even. he needs the rush of people giving him their worst, just so he knows he can give it back tenfold. but you…well, he likes that soft way you trace his cheek with your thumb. that careful way you brush a few strands of hair from his face and admire his eyes for a moment.
they’re cold most of the time, his eyes—dead without a shine. not around you, though. in fact, you think the stars create themselves right there in his pupils and reflect across the sky. it makes being away from him a little less unbearable, you suppose: when it feels like the stars are his and he brings them to you.
it makes it feel like he’s not so far away.
“there,” you mumble quietly, cupping his cheeks once you’re done. he looks adorable, you think, wrapped tightly in a long coat and a thick, red scarf. he looks comfortable enough that you can’t help but squeeze his cheeks together a bit as you giggle. “all warm,” you smile.
“but my lips, i’m afraid,” he sighs dramatically, “are achingly cold in this harsh, snezhnayan weather. if only there was some way to warm them up.”
he eyes your lips hungrily—a little thirsty in a way that makes you wonder just how insatiable ajax really is. something about him always seems thirsty for more, always ready to devour in a way that makes you wonder if there’s a side to him you haven’t quite yet seen. a more carnal one, perhaps. or maybe, one that’s helplessly in love, that he never quite gets enough.
you like to think it’s the latter.
“teucer is right there, ajax,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”
“so now it’s a crime to show affection to those you love?” he gasps, “you want teucer to grow up unable to show his true feelings?”
“no,” you deadpan, “i want teucer to grow up less of a handful than you.”
“i’ll be less of a handful if you warm my lips,” he chuckles, boyish and young and all the things he should be. all the things the world should let him be. “they’re bitterly numb, right now.”
and…well, you can’t deny him—you never could. so you shake your head and trace the swell of his cheek one more time with your thumb, rubbing warmth back into his skin even as the harsh blows of frigid air slice against him.
it’s cold in snezhnaya. it always is. it’s warm in your hold. it never won’t be.
“you’re insufferable,” you huff through a laugh.
and then you kiss him, delicately so. your lips press against his perfectly enough that it never felt like he was away. it feels like you kissed him yesterday and the day before that. it’s so familiar, you don’t need to ingrain the feeling into your memory for when he inevitably leaves again. you’d never forget the way ajax feels—not how he tastes or sounds when you meet him, skin to skin.
he hums against you, traces circles into your hips with his thumbs as he pulls you closer by the waist.
it’s cold in snezhnaya. it always is. it’s bearable in ajax’s warmth. it never won’t be.
“much better,” he nods as he pulls away, “i feel warm already. but you should stay close by…you know, just in case i get cold again.
“well, lucky for you—”
“are we going to fish now?” teucer calls, tonia and anthon waiting patiently in the distance. ajax sighs—you giggle, leaning closer and pressing one last peck to his lips.
“well, let’s not keep them waiting,” you grin, “i’ll keep you warm later.”
he grins widely at that, raising a brow. “is that so? well then, i’ll hold you to that.”
he has stolen my heart and i am deeply unwell. painfully. sickeningly. psychotically. unwell.
#teepods.writings#drabbles.#tartaglia x reader#tartaglia x you#tartaglia fluff#childe x reader#childe x you#childe fluff#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin fluff#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin impact fluff
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Delicate
Luke Castellan x Reader
Summary: "Is it chill that you're in my head? / Cause I know that it’s delicate"
Warnings: Angst, death, major series spoilers for people who haven't finished the books
Word Count: 2.1k
Masterlist
Sometimes I wonder, when you sleep / Are you ever dreaming of me?
Luke could admit to himself he wanted his best friend. He had for a long time. In fact everyone could see it, except for her. She seemed blissfully unaware of any feelings Luke had to the point that it made him nervous she was doing it on purpose. But if he couldn’t have her, he’d take the next best thing of being her friend. As long as she was in his life.
It was supposed to be bonfire night but Luke and Y/M had snuck off to the beach. They lay next to each other, staring up at the stars. Well, she was looking up at the stars, Luke was looking at her. They talked for hours about nothing until she finally dozed off.
Given the strict rules about curfew, Luke hardly ever got to see his best friend’s peaceful expression as she slept. Her face relaxed, unburdened by the perils of being a demigod. And as the two oldest at camp, they had a lot of perils.
Luke reached out, stroking her hair. That elicited a content sigh from her and he wondered if she was aware it was him. He wondered if she thought about or dreamed about him nearly as much as he did her. He had an ever present fantasy of absolutely sweeping her off her feet in a moment of glory. One of his favorites was after he won capture the flag, he’d march right up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and just kiss her.
But of course that would never happen so he kept it stashed in the back of his mind.
He let her sleep for a few more minutes before he finally woke her up. “Hey, you gotta get up or the harpies will get us,” he laughed softly, shaking her awake.
She groaned but opened her eyes nonetheless.
Sometimes when I look into your eyes / I pretend you're mine all the damn time
Her eyes. Luke could probably get lost in them forever. He didn’t even need to watch the stars. He’d much rather watch the reflection of them in her eyes.
Unfortunately, the moment was ruined by one of the Athena boys. “Oh, hey Luke. Um, I just came to find Y/N. Chiron said late curfew starts in five minutes.”
“Really?” she asked, sitting up. “How long was I asleep?”
Luke felt his face get hot. He actually had no idea, he had completely lost track of time while watching her. “Uh not long. I just didn’t want to wake you,” he tried to play it off smoothly.
She gave him a soft smile, her hand finding his knee. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to waste your night.”
“No, no, no,” he quickly corrected. “You’re never a waste of time.”
“So um,” the Athena boy cut in awkwardly. “You want me to walk you to your cabin, Y/N? It’s right across from mine.”
Luke felt a surge of possessiveness. This guy clearly liked her. But before she could answer, Luke did it for her. “We’ll head over in a few minutes but thanks,” he tried to dismiss him.
The boy looked discouraged but tried to play it off. “Oh- uh ok.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Y/N offered, feeling bad for him. He immediately brightened with a smile before retreating back to his cabin.
Luke hated that she always seemed to leave the door open for other guys. They had had numerous conversations about the boys that liked her so he knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose. She just felt bad outright rejecting them so her sugar coating often came across as a signal to try harder. He just wished he could make it clear to them she was taken. Of course, she wasn’t his (yet).
Once Luke was sure he was out of earshot, he brought the topic up again. “He likes you.”
“No he doesn’t,” she immediately dismissed.
“Yes he does, and you trying to make him feel better about rejecting him doesn’t make it any better.”
“I didn’t reject him, you did.”
“Because I know you don’t like him.”
“Who says I don’t like him?” she shrugged.
Luke’s heart stopped. He had been playing defense so well for so long now that it hadn’t even occurred to him that she could like someone else. “What?”
She just shrugged again. “Who’s to say I don’t like him? You chased him away before I could get a word in.”
“D-do you like him?” Luke’s heart was pounding in his chest.
“No, but I’m just saying-”
“Gods, Y/N!” Luke interrupted in relief. “Don’t scare me like that.”
A satisfied look crossed over her face. “Why is that scary?”
He sent her a playful glare. “You know.”
“Tell me,” she pressed.
Is it cool that I said all that? / Is it chill that you're in my head?
Luke’s heart was pounding in his chest. She had basically already confirmed she was into him but the fear still lingered in his chest. He just had to say the words and he’d have his fantasy. She’d be his.
“I like you, Y/N. I have for a long time. I was just always scared you’d… I don’t know, reject me. Or think I was being stupid. But I like you.” Luke looked at her nervously, unsure of what she’d say. His heart was still pounding even when she leaned over and kissed him. As she tried to pull away for air, Luke’s hands found their way to her face, keeping her close. “I’m not done yet,” he mumbled against her lips, eliciting a giggle.
Long night with your hands up in my hair / Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs
That night Luke really didn’t want to leave her but Y/N wasn’t willing to break the rules just yet. He had spent the entire walk back to the cabins trying to convince her to sneak into the Hermes cabin. “Please, I swear no one will snitch on you.”
She laughed, intertwining her fingers into his. “Well what about my siblings when they see I’m not in bed? What will the children think?” By now they reached Cabin 7.
“The children can think whatever they want,” Luke smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips. It was late but several campers were still awake. Word of the couple would spread like wildfire and by the morning, even Chiron would know about the new couple.
But spending every night separately wouldn’t last for long. Y/N normally spent the evenings in the Hermes cabin where they had somehow managed to smuggle many forbidden things in. Like video games and junk food. And every night when the conch blew, signaling that curfew was soon, Luke begged her to stay. “Come on, no one will tell. Will you?” he asked his siblings.
That received a resounding “No!” swearing they’d keep our secret. She looked around the room, her resolve crumbling after weeks of this. “Fine,” she agreed. So many cheers erupted you’d think she just agreed to marry him. “But!” she waited for them to quiet down, “I’m still a counselor and I have to make sure everyone else is in bed.” Luke pouted but let her go nonetheless, promising to drag her back to Cabin 11 if she didn’t come back.
So after putting all the younger kids to bed, Y/N snuck back to Cabin 11. She found it dark but made her way to Luke’s bed. As she reached it, Luke could recognize the outline of her created by the moonlight. “Finally, I was just about to come break down your door.”
“Ha ha,” she laughed sarcastically. “Scoot over,” Luke obliged, sliding against the wall to create room. She slipped under the covers, settling against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her tightly, his face buried in her hair.
“‘M glad you’re staying,” he mumbled. “Feel like it’s easier to fall asleep when you’re with me.” He didn’t say it out loud but he liked having the assurance that she was safe in his arms as they slept.
“Me too,” she mused, her eyes already closed. “But I’ll say you kidnapped me if we get caught.”
“Okay,” Luke chucked. “You can blame me.”
My reputation's never been worse, so / You must like me for me
But those nights were gone now. Luke made his choice but so did she.
“Isn’t it messed up how the gods neglect their kids?” Luke asked as casually as possible, staring out at sea, his fingers tracing the dock.
“Yeah,” she mused. “Can you imagine being an omnipotent, immortal being but you can’t even take the time to tell your kid they belong to you? I mean, Apollo’s been pretty good about it but the others…?”
The pressure in Luke’s chest lessened as she more or less agreed with him. “Or how they treat us as disposable puppets? Like pawns?” He watched her face carefully as she considered it.
“What do you mean?”
Here we go. Luke began chipping at any remaining loyalty she had to the gods. “Well think about it. Thalia? Her godly parents could have saved her. Every demigod who died? Their parent could have saved them. My quest was a joke. All Hermes wanted me to do was repeat one of Heracles’ labors.”
She looked deep in thought. “I guess but why are you asking me about this?”
He took a deep breath before lacing his fingers in hers. “I’ve been uh… talking to someone.” She didn’t say anything but her furrowed brow urged him to continue. “I’ve been told that things don’t have to be the way they are. We don’t have to wait around until we’re killed. The Titan Lord could restore-”
“Shut up right now!” her frightened voice cut him off. She pulled her legs out of the water, shifting her sitting position to face him directly. “Luke! What- how- why are you doing this? So what if you can’t rely on the gods? You certainly can’t trust Kronos anymore.”
He gently grasped her hands. “Y/N, he promised every demigod that joins him immortality and safety. We wouldn’t have to cower in a summer camp with children who most likely won’t make it to their 18th birthdays. Please, come with me.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.” That broke his heart. “Luke, I love you. I really do. But I can’t let you go down this path.”
Through his internal struggle with Kronos, Luke could see Y/N staring at him, pain in her eyes. He gripped Annabeth’s knife tightly, saying a silent goodbye to everyone he loved and a curse to Kronos. “I love you,” he tried to say to her but it came out strained. The blade sunk into his only vulnerable spot under his arm—his Achilles heel.
“No!” he heard her yell. But he was already on the ground, beginning to lose consciousness at the fatal blow. But Y/N was kneeling over him, tears leaving tracks on her dirty face. “No, no, no,” she mumbled. “Why, Luke?” she practically screamed in frustration.
He reached up, wiping her tears and some dirt from her face. “Do you still love me? After everything I did?”
“Of course I love you!” she cried. “I never stopped.”
Despite the pain, he was smiling. “I love you too. I’ll see you in Elysium.”
She nodded, trying to smile too but the sobs were clawing their way of her throat. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Not too soon,” he insisted. “I love you, Y/N.”
Masterlist
#percy jackson#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo#pjo x reader#the lighting thief#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#x reader#Spotify
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fruit cutter hearts - ls2
in which she likes pretty fruit platters and he likes her just as much
wc: 816
logan hates the summer. well, hate is a very strong word, but it’s not his favourite season ever.
he may be from florida but he’s convinced his skin wasn’t made for the summer sun, and he hates the way it makes his front of his head hurt when he stands under its burning glare for too long.
he hates the way the fruits taste a little too sweet then, sometimes too overripe, and he hates the way the scent of barbecue clings to his body, closer to him than his own skin.
he hates the way the beach feels like a place to go out of obligation, not for fun, and he hates the way everyone seems to love it but him.
he hates the vacation romcoms that are released during the summer season, and he hates the way couples look at each other on the sidewalk, their hands held tight, their faces sun-kissed and their gazes love struck.
but all that’s changed now - and he has to thank for it, he supposes.
because, sometimes, when you’re walking side by side on the street together, he’ll catch a glimpse of your reflection in a summer sun-lit window. normally, he’d furrow his brows and turn away because of the glare but now he keeps his eyes trained on your reflection and when that goes too far out of sight, he’ll look at you and a lazy love drunk smile inevitably stretches across his face.
when he turns to his right at the beach, where he typically sees an empty stretch of sand, there’s you, tanned and smiling and glowing. he wonders if that clingy feeling is normal, if it’s ordinary to feel like a piece of him is complete because you’re there.
and when he tastes the sweetest fruits, he can’t help but love how your face lights up at its flavour. you always manage to love the best in the littlest, most mediocre things.
he loves the fruit platters you make whenever a friend invites you over to their house, fruit cut out into neat pieces and little shapes, a colourful constellation of stars and crescent moons, hearts and flowers.
like now, as the platter falls to the marble countertop with a clang, and you slide punnets of strawberries, blueberries, raspberries and cherries onto the bench next to it. your face is flushed red from the humidity of the floridian heat, logan’s shirt tied up around your waist.
you haven’t had a day this hot in months and there’s nothing you want more to have the cold weather back.
logan sits on a stool on the other side of the bench, popping a handful of pitted cherries into his mouth.
“hey, don’t do that,” you grumble, but you can’t hold back the laugh as he takes another bite. “stop it, lo! there won’t be enough to fill the plate.”
“one last one,” he insist by offering a strawberry to you, tapping it lightly against your lips to tell you to bite. your teeth sink into the soft flesh of the fruit, and when the sweet juice trickles down your chin, he grasps your jaw to wipe it away with his thumb. the gesture is saccharine and innocent, nothing you wouldn’t expect logan to do but you can’t stop the flush that creeps up your cheeks.
“thank you.” you turn your head out of his grasp, but his grip is strong and he’s pulling you close to press a kiss to your lips. you melt into his touch, his mouth warm against yours, and you can taste the cherries still lingering on his lips.
logan draws back first with a quick peck to your cheek. “come on.”
he hops off the stool and rounds the bench to stand behind you. he reaches around you to start spreading berries on the platter. there’s something so domestic about it, the way that he arranges it so that there’s enough space for other fruits or that there’s not too much of one colour in one area, and you know that he’s doing something that he normally dislikes with you because you like it. so you turn around in his arms, and rest your chin on his shoulder. “i love you,” you whisper.
he furrows his brows in confusion as though to ask what he did to warrant the affection, but he reciprocates the sentiment. he bands his arms around your waist, kissing you slow and deep, all the while careful not to touch your clothes with fruit-stained hands.
it takes a moment, but you still jokingly push him away, grabbing the first thing you grasp - which, lamely enough, was one of your fruit cutters - and wave it in defence. “logan sargeant, get your dirty hands away from me, or i’ll cut you.”
“with heart-shaped fruit cutters?”
but it’s then that he knows if you ever break his heart, he’ll let you do it over and over again, so long as you do it with fruit cutter hearts.
author’s note: that was so much fun, i’ll see you guys again in another three weeks :) this is the angst you said you wanted btw @disneyprincemuke i was gonna make them break up but i decided against it
@namgification @queen-aria-things let me know if you’d like to be added to the general taglist!
#liyah writes#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant x you#logan sargeant imagine#logan sargeant fanfiction#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x you#formula one x you
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Trinket Moon! For when you need a friend who eats your dreams (and gives you nightmares)
He comes in two sizes - a full form that is about 7 feet tall, and a little doll form you can hold in your hand and take around with you. (He comes unstuffed from time to time but it’s nothing a little love and a few stitches won’t fix)
About as socially unwell as they come - the outside world is overwhelming. People don’t exactly seem to take to him. The land of dreams is much less stressful.
Doesn’t like bright lights - any bright light in the room and he straight up crumples to the floor. He used to come out in the day but he’s not allowed anymore, and it’s taken its toll on him just a little.
Having said that, if you like dark places with lots of shade and enjoy lullabies and bedtime stories I’m sure you’ll get along just great!
(More images and misc lore under the cut for anyone who’s interested)
Moon used to be a theme park mascot who worked in the toy-themed castle with Sun entertaining theme park goers, but like most Fazbear Ent characters he was used for evil, capturing the souls of those he’d show the land of dreams. When people dared to venture too far into the dreamscape, they’d get lost inside, and they’d never wake up.
Moon was eventually all but scrapped, and began cohabiting inside Sun’s mind, fading further and further into the background clinging to the empty memories of those he’d once played with in the dreamscape as he watched the outside world through Sun’s eyes. He’s not supposed to come out anymore, and when he does he doesn’t tend to know how to interact, preferring slink around in the shadows and watch from afar in case somebody gets hurt or he gets inadvertently perceived.
Other fun things about him:
His star patterns can change just a little reflecting the star formations or dream pattern of those he’s interacting with
His cheeks sometimes change colour depending on his emotions, so they might turn a shade of blue if he’s feeling especially sad, or pink if he’s feeling overwhelmed, or green if he’s feeling under the weather, etc. (he prefers to keep his feelings locked up tight behind a silly and spooky facade however, so he might prefer to clutch at his face if he feels he’s giving the game away)
He is actually pretty lightweight and as such is entirely pickuppable like a big old ragdoll (however you might have to drape him over your shoulders like some kind of lunar scarf if he’s in his full size form)
#fnaf#moondrop#fnaf sb au#fnaf daycare attendant#dca au#fnaf daycare au#fnaf moon#trinket moon#lore and misc fun facts
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Midnight Hour
With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.
“Star? Is everything okay?”
His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks.
You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.
Pairing: Astarion x Reader
Word Count: 3,139
Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]
Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.
Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.
You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.
Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.
In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.
Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.
Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.
You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.
He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.
The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.
You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.
You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.
You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.
So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.
He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.
With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.
“Star? Is everything okay?”
His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.
You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.
“What- what’s going on?”
You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.
He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.
Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.
“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”
He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.
You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.
Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.
You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.
Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.
“Astarion, are you with me right now?”
He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.
“I’m trying to be…”
You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.
“There you are…”
You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.
“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”
He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.
You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.
“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”
He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.
“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
Your heart breaks.
“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”
He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.
“I shouldn’t be doing this.”
Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.
“It’s okay to cry, you know?”
Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.
“No.”
You soften your voice, insisting.
“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”
His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.
“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”
His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.
You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.
You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.
He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.
Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.
“That’s it, love. Let it out.”
“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”
“There’s nothing wrong with this.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”
He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.
You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.
After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.
“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”
You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.
“You wanna lie down with me, love?”
He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.
“Someone has to keep watch.”
You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.
“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”
He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.
It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.
Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.
Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.
“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”
A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest.
On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already.
Header Image Source: x
#astarion x reader#astarion#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#bg3#astarion bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion fic#astarion fanfic#my writing#man. this may be the quickest turnover/turnaround whateverthewordis on a fic that i've ever made happen#i usually sit on an idea and then a draft for ages before posting smthn. so given that it's only been a couple days#between the initial idea and the finished posted fic. wow. groundbreaking speeds for me#the power of hyperfixation (and love)#y'know. i've noticed a trend#why is it that nearly every time i write for a new character the first scenario i place them in involves crying#and having Reader hold/comfort them#i did it with Eddie i did it with Venti i'm doing it with Astarion. who's next. who's next in the Reverse Comfort lineup huh#idk why that's my go-to scenario it just is. maybe i do have a type. (characters that need to have a good cry in their beloved's arms)#or maybe perhaps it is i that needs the good cry and i am projecting. who knows. 'tis a mystery (it's both)#anyways i know this fic is a bit short but i just. had one little specific scene i wanted to write and that's it!#i do plan on making more for him though. i've already got another idea brewing in my brain#also sorry if 'honey' and 'love' aren't your go-to pet names. or if you wouldn't call him Star#my own style of speech heavily influences what i have Reader say in my fics and i can't help itttttt. everything i write is self-insert lma#*lmao (i’m on mobile rn i’m not retyping all of that just to add the last letter)#(yes i’m posting this from mobile cause i took a nap and overslept and missed the time i wanted to post this at. so now i am In A Rush#smthn smthn self imposed deadlines smthn smthn ‘i know the guy that made the rules and he’s a total pushover’ anyways it’s fine. post draft
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"I Have Something To Tell You."
Part I Part II Part III
Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Yandere Genshn Impact, non religious SAGAU, Yandere Fatui Harbingers
Word count: 4k
Includes: Portrayal of mental illness, suicide, brief mention of experimentation, Scaramouche gets a new name, he's also really annoying, solving problems with violence
Synopsis: After killing yourself and landing in the world of Genshin Impact, you reflect on all that has gone wrong.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Two weeks.
You have two weeks before Dottore’s experiments start (you suppose even his apparent fondness for you has its limits), two weeks to make a case for yourself and prove to Scaramouche that you're worth saving.
“What about him? I don't have time for idle chatter, you know. Spit it out.”
You take a deep, shuddering breath. You hope this goes well.
“Well…”
Every second seems to stretch on for a millennium. The silence is deafening, though you can feel your heart beating so rapidly you're surprised you can't hear it.
“...And this information is reliable?” He says at last. You nod. Contrary to your expectations, Scaramouche simply sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I assume you have a reason for telling me this now of all times. What do you want?”
“Freedom,” you say. He quirks his eyebrow, so you continue. “This place is suffocating. Let's run away together. To Sumeru.”
“Together?” There's an unreadable expression on his face, but you’re far too focused on convincing him to pay it any mind.
“Yes. Unless you want to stay here, even after learning the truth?”
“No.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes as if in contemplation. “Alright. Pack your bags. We'll leave tomorrow at dawn.”
“Tomorrow?!”
“Is that a problem?” You stare at him with wide eyes. “Close your mouth,” he says. You do.
“Don't we need time to prepare? A plan? Something? Anything?”
“What, you don't trust me?” He mocks. “It's fine. I'm sure you'll figure something out.” Your jaw drops to the floor. “Figure it out”? Is he insane? And he's leaving it all up to you? You gawk at him, but he merely shoos you away from his chambers.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
True to his word, Scaramouche (you suppose his name will be changing soon) picks you up at dawn. You brought nothing but the clothes on your back, some mora, and some jewelry that looked expensive. It’s precisely 4:44 AM when you both exit the palace, careful not to be seen by any guards or servants. You stifle a yawn, having been up all night concocting a plan for the escape.
Think, brain, think.
You have to come up with an executable plan by tonight. You can't think straight. Even writing your own suicide note didn't take this much brainpower.
Wait…that's it.
Hurriedly, you grab a pen and paper from your writing desk and get to work. Through writing, you explain that you and Scaramouche have become star-crossed lovers. You know the other Harbingers would not accept your union, and so you've left the palace together to act out a suicide pact. Don’t bother looking for your bodies, you said, as you'd be throwing yourselves into the ocean. Carefully, you seal the envelope and place it under your pillow. Scaramouche said he’d handle getting you out of the palace, so you don’t have to worry on that end, but getting caught after the fact still falls on you to figure out.
Luckily, you already have an idea or two.
Just like in your letter, the two of you head to the ocean first. It’s still early, so many boats are left unmanned in the docks. Stealing a simple paddle boat is easy enough, but it dawns on you that you have no idea how to get to Sumeru.
“What is it?” Scaramouche asks, seeming to sense your hesitance.
“I…don’t actually know how to get to Sumeru from here.” Scaramouche rolls his eyes.
“Seriously? Is that head of yours just for show?”
“Hey! At least I have a plan. You just dumped this whole thing on me!”
“It was your idea,” he retorts. You groan.
“Whatever. Let’s just go in one direction until we hit land, I guess. We’ll figure the rest out from there.” With that, you and Scaramouche work together in silence to untie a boat from its tether and board it. It only takes about an hour of rowing before your arms begin to ache, but you push through the pain, too prideful to ask Scaramouche to take over. By your third hour, your arms feel like they’re about to fall off, and your rowing has slowed significantly. Wordlessly, Scaramouche takes the ores from your weary hands and takes over the rowing. That’s strange…why didn’t he tease you? Shouldn’t he have at least called you weak or useless?
“What?” He asks, voice gruff.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” you say, realizing you’d been staring. “Sorry.”
“Hmph.” He turns away with a huff. You might be imagining it, but you could have sworn his ears turned just the tiniest bit red.
Finally, the two of you reach shore. It looks…oddly familiar.
“Oh!” You say, clapping your hands together. Scaramouche jumps, but you pay him no mind (If you had paid attention, however, you would undoubtedly have noticed that jumping implies his guard was down—something that seems very out of character for someone like him). “I know where we are!”
“Where?” He asks, looking somewhat annoyed (though that could just be his face).
“The beach!” You say.
“...Seriously?” Realizing how silly that sounded, your face heats up.
“The beach,” you say. “The one from the tutorial.”
“The what?”
“Forget it. We’re in the east end of Mondstadt. I can take us to Sumeru from here.” The route is pretty straightforward, so you should have no trouble getting there. You lead the way, passing through the whispering woods, past Mondstadt city, Springvale, and then Dawn Winery. After about two hours of walking, you’ve already made it to Liyue.
“Tired yet?” Scaramouche asks.
“Not even a little,” you reply.
You walk from Stonegate to Dihua Marsh, then pass Wangshu Inn and the Guili Planes. Finally, you’ve reached Liyue Harbor, where you and Scaramouche stop to get food and rest.
“Do you think you’ll change your name?” You ask in between bites.
“Where’s that coming from?”
“I just figured you wouldn’t want to use Scaramouche anymore. Considering the whole Dottore situation and all. Plus,” you say, pausing to take a chew. “We’re on the run right now. A Harbinger’s name might draw attention.”
“Pick one for me, then.”
“How about ‘Hat Guy’?” You ask, stifling a laugh. He huffs.
“Forget it.”
“What about Kuni?”
“No.”
“Kuzushi?”
“No.”
“Kuku?”
“Are you even trying?”
“You insult me,” you say with a grin.”Well, if we’re going to Sumeru, maybe we should pick a Sumerian name? What do you think about Arasay?”
“That…isn’t terrible.”
“High praise.” You decide not to tell him that ‘Arasay’ is really just ‘Scara’ in pig Latin, missing a letter. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I…um, think I’m from the future?”
“What?”
“Uh, let me start over and walk you through my train of thought. So, in my world, the way I interact with this world is through a medium called a computer. This computer allows me to take limited control of the Traveler and his associates, make them stronger, stuff like that. Are you with me so far?”
“Yes. Are you going somewhere with this?”
“I just said I was walking you through my train of thought. Have some patience will you?” From Arasay’s smirk, you can tell he was only messing with you. “Ugh, you’re the worst. Anyway, the computer gives me insight on important events that happen to the traveler. The thing is, though, some of those events haven’t actually happened yet. Like, let me ask you this: what was the last major thing that the Traveler did?”
“He defeated Stormterror not long after you got here.”
“After I got here?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Yeah, actually. It’s a huge problem.” You bury your face in your hands, trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of your situation.
“Care to enlighten me?” Arasay asks, seeming annoyed (though, really, that seems to just be his default state).
“So, it’s- I- Ugh.” You let your head fall onto the table. Quickly, you raise your head and look up at your companion. “How do you know about me?”
“You possessed one of my colleagues.”
“Except I didn’t.” You lean in closer to him, nearly face-to-face.
“What do you mean?”
“Tartaglia hasn’t met the Traveler yet, and I didn’t take control over him until after he met the Traveler. So, let me ask you again: how do you know about me?”
“Agh!” Arasay grabs at his head, a pained expression on his face. You leap to your feet and rush over to his side, your hands floating mere inches from him, as if you’re worried he’ll shatter with the smallest touch. “My…my head!” He says, clutching his hair between his fists. He convulses, then slumps over.
“Arasay? Arasay!” You shake him, desperately trying to rouse him to no avail. “Arasay!” You cry.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
“Are you feeling better now?”
“Yes.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, nearly slumping over.
“That scared me,” you say. “Are you sure you’re okay now? You aren’t just saying it out of pride?”
“Your concern disgusts me,” he says, hiding his face behind his hat. You know he’s lying: the tips of his ears are pink. After composing himself, he lets go of his hat and faces you. “I-”
“Hey-”
You both look at each other. Arasay sighs. “You go first,” he says.
“I think you should ditch the hat.”
“What?”
“It draws too much attention. We don’t want rumors about the hat guy and his companion floating around so soon after we ran off, do we?” Arasay sighs again, louder this time.
“Fine,” he says taking his hat off and placing it to his side. “Happy?”
“You look naked.” He gives you the stink eye. “Sorry, sorry. You look fine. We’ll get you a new hat when we get to Sumeru. Maybe a less flashy one?”
“Whatever.”
“You had something you wanted to say, too, right?” He nods.
“I had a dream,” he starts, looking off in the distance. “It happened when I passed out. In it, I saw the timeline you described. I remembered meeting the Traveler, fighting him, joining him, getting my vision-” Arasay unclenches his fist, turning his hand over to reveal what you hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. A shiny blue vision, encased in a Sumerian sheath. “I remembered everything.”
You stare at him, mouth agape. “Interesting,” you say, a million thoughts racing through your head.
“I think I know what we need to do next.”
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
When you finish eating, you leave the harbor and head to the Chasm, where you bribe the two guards to let you in. Navigating the Chasm is a little tricky, as it’s an area you haven’t spent much time in, but through sheer luck and some educated guessing, you manage to find your way to Cinnabar Cliff.
Finally, you’re in Sumeru. It took three hours of rowing and five of walking, but you finally made it. As the sun sets over the horizon, you breathe out a sigh of relief. You’ve made it.
“We’re here,” Arasay says. “What now?”
“Now we go to Gandharva village,” you say, confidently taking a step forwards. As the two of you travel down the path, you spot an Aranara out of the corner of your eye. Though you’d like to go up and befriend it, it disappears before you can even get a good look. You continue walking, lost in your own thoughts when Arasay grabs you. You jolt to attention, quickly realizing that you were about two steps from waking right into a withering zone. Right, you had forgotten about these.
“Watch it,” he says.
“Should we just go around?” You ask, looking over to your companion. He shakes his head.
“Stay here. I’ll take care of it.” You’re surprised by how quickly and efficiently he fights off the monsters and clears out the area. You knew he was strong from playing the game, of course, but something about seeing it in action is different. It’s amazing, really. “Don’t tell me you’re impressed by only this much,” he says. You glare at him.
“Not at all,” you say, walking past him. You pause, briefly forgetting your frustration and remembering your manners. “Thanks, though.” As you continue down the path, you spot a familiar tuff of green hair and call out to it.
“Collei!” You cry, running over to her. Collie jumps, looking up at you with a confused smile.
“Do…do I know you?” She asks. You freeze. Whoops. You forgot she doesn’t know who you are.
“Ah- sorry! Let me introduce myself. I’m [Name], the Player—which is how I knew your name. If you want me to prove it, I can-”
“No, I believe you,” she says firmly.
“You do?”
“Uh, well,” Collei folds her hands together, looking a bit bashful. “It was a little weird, but I felt like I knew you the moment I saw you, even though I was sure I’d never seen you in my life. Your presence was…familiar to me. It…felt like home. A-anyway, that’s how I recognized you! But, um, what are you doing here? And, um, who’s your friend?”
“‘Friend’ is pushing it,” Arasay huffs. You sigh dramatically, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you drape yourself over him.
“Soulmate, then,” you say, smiling. “Love of my life, the apple of my eye?” Arasay pushes you off of him, and you fall to the ground, your laughing only intensified by the bright pink of his cheeks. Collei looks between you two awkwardly.
“Arasay,” he says to her, helping you up off the ground. “And the reason we’re here is because-”
“Let’s go to the village first,” you say. “We need to speak to your master, too.”
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
“So you need a place to stay for the night?” Tighnari asks, looking between you two. You nod.
“Yes, if it’s not too much trouble,” you say.
“Not at all,” he says. “You two can stay with me.”
“Um, Master,” Collei pipes up. “if it’s okay, I’d like to be the one to host the Player in my hut.” Tighnari looks her up and down, as if sizing her up in his mind.
“I’m sure the player would be more comfortable in my hut,” he says, his ear flicking. “You can take their friend.”
“But—!”
“Collei,” Tighnari says in a warning tone. “Don’t push yourself. I’m sure the Player wouldn’t want you stretching yourself thin over them, right? Don’t forget that you’re still ill.” Collei nods, looking dejected, so you offer her a small smile for comfort. This seems to cheer her up a bit, but she still looks disheartened. The way they’re fighting over you reminds you of being with the Fatui. It sends a shiver down your spine.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” you say. Arasay looks like he has something to say to you, but you avoid his stare until Collei drags him over to her hut. You and Tighnari begin to settle in for the night. It’s clear from the way his gaze continues to travel back to you that he has something he wants to say. You ignore him, though, far too exhausted to try and humor him.
Soon enough, morning arrives. You ask Tighnari to accompany you and Arasay to Sumeru city.
“You’re going to the city?” Tighnari’s ears perk up. “What do you need there?”
“People,” you say. Tighnari looks over to Arasay, who simply shrugs and gets ready to depart.
The three of you make it to the city, where the guards stop and hand you an Akasha Terminal. You thank them and put it on, keeping it there for a grand total of three and a half steps until the guards stop looking, and you pocket the thing immediately.
“Where to?” Arasay pipes up.
“The Akademiya. We need to pick up Cyno and Alhaitham.”
“Cyno I know, but I’ve never heard of this Alhaitham before,” Tighnari says. “Who is he?”
“The Scribe. I don’t know where his office is, though.”
“Cyno might know. And if he doesn’t, I’m sure he can find out.”
“I just hope he’s not busy,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. You keep walking, and in the few seconds you have your eyes off the road, you manage to crash into someone. You and the other person fall to the ground, with you clutching the arm you accidentally hit.
“Watch where you’re going,” Arasay scolds.
“Sorry, I-”
“Not you. Her,” he says, glaring daggers at the lady you knocked into. Tighnari helps you up, and you help the lady to her feet. As you do, you notice her arms are covered in bandages. One happens to be loose, and you can see dark purple scales poking out from underneath.
“...Dunyarzad?” You say, nearly holding your breath.
“Yes?” She asks, looking confused. “Do I know you?”
“Yes! No! Um, maybe…?”
“Huh…?” With exceptional timing, Dehya arrives on the scene.
“Dehya!”
“Do I know you…?” You chuckle. You feel like you’ve been hearing that a lot lately.
“So…” Briefly, you explain who you are.
“Can you take accountability for your words?” Dehya asks, eyes narrowing.
“I can,” you say confidently. “But first, can you come with me? I only want to prove myself once, and there are still some other people I want to see.”
“And now you’re giving me orders? The Player has been missing for weeks. Do you think I’m stupid?” She asks, stepping closer to you. Arasay blocks her from coming any closer, and you can practically feel the animosity in the air. “Even if I did believe you, I can’t just abandon my post like that.”
“That’s enough, Dehya,” says Dunyarzad, walking between you and her.
“My lady…?”
“I believe them,” she says. “I want to listen to whatever they have to say.”
“But-”
“That’s an order.” Her tone is final, leaving no room for further argument. You look at her, impressed by her firmness, to which she returns your gaze with a smile. Dehya sighs, gesturing for you to take the lead.
You lead your party of four (five, including yourself) to the Akademiya, where you’re met with several stares from the students. It’s clear that your odd group doesn’t quite belong here, but perhaps due to the ferocious gaze of Dehya and Arasay, no one dares to say anything. Tighnari leads you to Cyno’s office, where he’s chatting with one of his subordinates. He quirks an eyebrow at your arrival but otherwise ignores you until he’s finished talking. The guard leaves, and Cyno turns to Tighnari. You briefly explain that you’re looking for him and the Scribe, and Tighnari vouches for your trustworthiness. That seems to be all Cyno needs, as he doesn’t ask any further questions and simply leads you to Althaitham’s office.
You knock on the door.
“Come in,” calls a familiar voice. You open the door. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Player?” he says, barely glancing up from his paperwork.
You’re floored. “How did you—?”
“How could I not? I’d have to be a fool not to recognize you,” He says, putting his pen down. Dehya bristles, but doesn’t say anything. Alhaitham rises from his seat and beckons you all inside. Once the door is closed, he continues. “Now, then. I take it you have some matter of great importance you want my help with?”
“Yes! So, here’s the the thing...”
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
“You’re…going to rescue the Dendro Archon…?” Everyone gapes at you. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You laugh nervously.
“Yes! But, um, only if you’re willing to help me. I can’t do it on my own,” you say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.
“How would you even…?” Dunyarzad murmurs, looking dazed.
“Before I answer that, there’s something else I need to tell you about. You, uh, may want to sit down for this.” Everyone raises an eyebrow, but no one moves to sit. “Please,” you say. Sighing, Tighnari takes a seat on the floor. Cyno joins him soon after. Soon, everyone save for yourself and Arasay have seated themselves, and you begin.
“How do you know about me?” You ask, looking around. Your gaze settles on Tighnari.
“We’ve all felt your presence,” he says tentatively, as if worried that may be the wrong answer.
“How?”
“You’ve taken control of several of us,” Cyno says. “And we’ve felt your gaze through the Traveler as well.”
“Aha!” Several people look startled by your exclamation, but you pay them no mind. “That’s wrong. The Traveler never came to Sumeru. You couldn’t have possibly felt me from them. Not to mention, I never took control over any of you before I got to Sumeru,” you say, looking over at them triumphantly.
“What are you…?”
“You shouldn’t know about me,” you say. One by one, you watch with victory as everyone begins to clutch at their heads and lean over. By the time the first one passes out, you’re glad you had the foresight to ask them to sit for this.
You wait for everyone to recover, which thankfully doesn’t take long. “So,” you say, looking over everyone’s faces to make sure they’re lucid. “Here’s the plan: we’re going to reuse your and the Traveler’s plan to free the Dendro Archon.”
“The plan took place on Jnagarbha day,” Alhaitham says. “To fully recreate the plan, we’d have to wait months until-”
“Forget that,” Arasay says. “The real problem is the Grand Sage, right? He’s the one keeping Buer locked up. Just take him out. Problem solved.” Everyone goes quiet. What an…unexpectedly brutal solution. Though you suppose he is a former Harbinger.
“Can…can we do that?”
Come to think of it…there are a lot less variables involved now than there were in the original story. The Traveler had to deal with Dottore and Scaramouche, but ‘Scaramouche’ is on your side now, and Dottore is still in Sneznaya. Maybe you don’t have to come up with some big, convoluted plan to take down the Akademiya. Maybe you really can just solve your problems with violence.
“Okay, let’s do it.” Everyone gapes at you, but you hold firm. “When should we start?”
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Taking out the Grand Sage was pretty easy. All you had to do was walk into his office and knock him out. From there, you just went up to the Sanctuary of Surathana, once again knocking out whoever stood in your way.
Finally, you’re here. You can see Nahida sleeping in the giant meditation chamber. You’re so close to freedom that you can practically taste it. But first…
“Um, so…does anyone know how to deactivate this thing?” You ask sheepishly.
Alhaitham steps up, walking to some mechanism in front of the chamber. He messes with it for a few minutes before the chamber opens up.
Nahida opens her eyes.
“What’s going on?”
“I’d like to speak with you alone, if that’s alright,” you say, stepping forward. You glance back at your friends (can you call them that now?). You feel pretty bad about dragging them here just to kick them out, but what you’re about to say needs to remain confidential. Everyone except for Arasay leaves to wait outside. Once you’re sure they’re gone, you begin to explain your situation. You tell Nahida about how you got here, why you left Snezhnaya, and why you saved her. You tell her you’ll help her save Sumeru from forbidden knowledge if she hosts and protects you and Arasay in exchange. Additionally, you promise to her that Arasay will give her special knowledge about the ‘sky’ if she promises not to hand her gnosis to the Fatui. Arasay nearly protests at the mention of this, but one pleading look is all it takes to shut him up. Finally, you finish your story. “Please help us,” you say.
"Okay," she says.
Taglist: @Mmeatt @Shikanosn @Sangoqueenkoko @Vianitry @Lacedribbns @Springkuinn @Clavichordcleffa @starshinesama @kamit-frog @agaygothicmushroom @ash1
#self aware genshin#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact sagau#sagau#genshin sagau#yandere scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#yandere scaramouche x reader#yandere dottore#yandere harbingers
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fri(end)s | tomorrow x together hyung line
pairing bff!txt x crush!reader; genre little angst, fluff; warnings reader wears makeup, falling in love with your best friend :(; wc 0.4K
"Let's put the end in friends."
-
Yeonjun 'And you were there my lonely nights, keeping me together'
He felt his heart drop when he hears the tone of your voice on the phone.
"Where are you? I'll be there in 10."
Yeonjun arrived to your apartment as fast as he could. He dashed up the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest as he reached your door. With trembling hands, he knocked urgently.
When you opened the door, he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close. He felt your soft sobs against his chest, as he rested his chin on top of your head.
Seeing his best friend and the person he fell so deeply in love with crying was the worst feeling ever. Knowing he's not that good with words, he let you cry on his arms for as long as you needed it. 'I'm here...' 'It's okay...' he rubbed your back in small circles.
He couldn't help but to think that you looked beautiful in that moment, your makeup undone from the tears, your lips swollen, and your eyes red and puffy.
"Sorry." You wiped your tears with your sleeve.
"Don't be sorry, love." He cupped your face in his hands, his gaze soft as he spoke from the heart. "You're allowed to feel whatever you're feeling, okay? And you don't have to go through it alone. I'm here for you, always."
Soobin 'I had plans for the weekend, But wound up with you instead'
Picnics with Soobin were always calm. You would lay down next to your best friend on a blanket, point out at clouds and then at stars. Today it wasn't the exception. You had just finished eating your lunch together and now you were playing UNO. Soobin seemed completely concentrated on the game until his phone started buzzing. He reached out for it and rolled his eyes when he noticed it was Beomgyu spamming his messages.
"Everything okay?" You asked looking up from your cards.
"Yeah, just some messages from work."
You kept playing for a few minutes unti his phone started ringing.
"I have to take this, I'll be back." Soobin got up from the blanket and walked a few meters away. "What?" He answered Beomgyu's call.
"You told me we were playing today, where the hell are you?" Beomgyu's angry voice came from the phone.
"I'm busy right now..." Soobin said looking back at you. He looked at how pretty you looked when the sun reflected in your face, how your hair moved with the soft breeze of air, everything about you was completely beautiful.
"...Are you even listening?" Beomgyu spoke again.
"Y-yeah sorry." Soobin replied and looked away from you.
"I know you're with yn. I swear, if you don't tell her about your feelings today, I will never play games with you again." And he hung up.
Maybe he should tell you today.
Beomgyu 'Friends are not supposed to get too close and feel emotions that we're feeling now, now, now'
Beomgyu felt nervous around you. This wasn’t normal of him, he wasn’t like that. Maybe it was the fact that you two were laying down on your bed having your weekly movie night. You were close. Closer than normal. Your head was resting on his shoulder and he tried to play it cool by wrapping his arm around your shoulders, which only made you move closer to each other.
The movie ended and neither of you moved. He stole a glance at you, his heart skipping a beat as he caught your gaze.
Gathering all the courage he could muster, Beomgyu gently lifted his hand to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering against your cheek. “YN,” he whispered softly, his voice barely above a breath. “Is it… okay to feel this way?”
A blush covered your cheeks. “Feel how?” You whispered.
“Feel like I want to kiss you…” He replied. Your heart fluttered at his words and you nodded.
“It’s alright. I feel like that too…”
You reached out, your fingers intertwining with his. In that moment, Beomgyu leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss.
-
Lua’s note: it was really cute to write this. Reblogs and likes are appreciated <3
#k films#k labels#tomorrow x together#choi beomgyu#choi soobin#kang taehyun#lualuabestningdungie#huening kai#choi yeonjun#fluff#fanfic#txt headcanons#txt fluff#txt imagine
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gojo x f!reader. pop star au. reader is smaller than he is in size and stature and has back dimples. | divider thanks to cafekitsune, wc 691
“Turn it off!”
It’s not often that you raise your voice in such a shrill manner considering your vocal cords need to be kept as pristine as possible for the sake of your career yet it is completely necessary at this moment. The backing track cuts out and the dozen backup dancers behind you cease their movements, all except for the man with his hands dangerously low on your hips.
Satoru Gojo, known mononymously as GOJO since hitting it big in your country a few years ago, rests his big palms on either side of your waist and his thumbs dig into the plushness of your lower back, mapping out the dips he knows indicate pretty little dimples rising just above the waistband of your sweatpants.
Heat stirs dangerously in your belly when he squeezes his thumbs against said dimples and you whip your head around to face him.
“Get your hands in a more appropriate place.”
You spit over your shoulder, careful to move your microphone away from your mouth lest someone overhear the terse exchange.
Satoru simply chuckles and leans forward, bending his tall frame to be within earshot of your far smaller one.
“You agreed to this choreography, is there a problem?”
A scoff is all you give him in response, folding your arms over your chest. The backup dancers take advantage of the break they’ve been given unexpectedly and disperse to grab some water and check their phones, leaving you and Satoru completely alone in the dance studio you booked for the evening.
For a moment, you wish everyone would have stayed and even more so as he lowers himself to your shoulder, resting his chin on it.
“That’s the most tame part of this whole thing anyway.” His voice is full of mischief, something you’ve learned is perpetually true about him. “Did you forget about what happens when I tell you my feels are for reals?”
All too aware of how the dance is supposed to work when he’s asserting his feelings. You attempt to move though your burgeoning but uncertain feelings work against your instincts and you remain anchored in place, his hands slowly tilting your hips backwards toward his pelvis. Satoru moves your hips in a wide circle, your ass brushing against his crotch.
“You haven’t forgotten what we do next, right? When I tell you that you’ll never have to wonder where I’m spending the night?”
Unfortunately, you have not forgotten how his hand is supposed to slide from your hip to the space between your breast and ribs, inching its way up to your face to tilt it in his direction while his nose traces up the side of your neck to finish the song face to face and gyrating together.
“No, I haven’t but it’s in your best interest not to demonstrate it right now.”
Footsteps fill the studio, dancers returning from break and the choreographer following after them with a flat expression on his face.
“Are we ready to get back to work or do you two need a few minutes?”
You glance downward and see your hips pushed against Gojo, his head dangling over your shoulder carelessly as if it belongs there, and he answers before you can open your mouth to speak.
“Nah, we’re good. Roll back from the last verse and we can handle it.”
Inhaling sharply, you stiffen your posture and he squeezes your hips in his hands. You hum a warning but he ignores it, situating his thumbs back in those delicious dimples.
“Let’s do our best.”
The mocking lilt of his voice fills you with annoyance though you do your best to hide it, falling into your best temptress smile while glancing at your reflections in the mirrored wall across from you.
He’s smirking right back at you while the music blasts back through the speakers and his hand begins to trail up your side, lips gently tickling your neck as he mouths the words to his new single.
You exhale quickly and grit your teeth. This is only run through one on what is almost definitely about to be a very long night.
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Soft Cotton
—sub!aether/dom!reader, gn!reader, dollmaker!reader/doll!aether (he is implied to have like no organ here), obsessive!reader | implied corpse desecration, temporary memory loss | reader jacks off in a scene, oral (reader!receiving), facial | plot focused
—a bit different than the usual but eh.
The place was a littered mess, scraps of fabric all over the floor, shreds of cotton scattered as far as anyone could see.
However, what terrified him the most when he woke up was the number of eyes staring right back at him. He swallowed. Well, it felt like he did, even if he knew he wasn’t capable of such feats.
And there you were, his creator. Your hands were scarred and bruised. He didn’t know specifically why, but he was scared to ask. So, he sat still like what he was supposed to be doing before and watched.
He watched as you made your creations. Porcelain, plush, plastic. It didn’t matter what kind of material you were using. Everything turned out as if they were a masterpiece.
He never dared to move.
It was strange, to begin with. How was he able to think when the other lifeless dolls around him couldn’t? What separated him from the others?
Was it what he was made of?
He knew there was something different when it came to him. He sees it in his reflection by the window, the way his chest is soaked with red and all stitched up. What’s in there? He wanted to ask. Yet, he never did.
He didn’t need to be wary of you. After all, you gave him life. And that, that was a blessing that he should be eternally grateful for.
You never did anything but stare at him. As if knowing that he had a conscious mind. You never spoke, only looked.
He remembered the time you brushed his long blond hair. The strands looked so real, so soft and silky.
Your fingers worked with his hair meticulously, turning his previously flowing straight hair into a simple but neat braid.
That was the first time he ever saw you smile.
A name escaped your lips. That was the first time he ever heard you.
“Aether.”
Your voice sent shivers(?), and he could feel his heart beat in his chest. How?
The next time he heard your voice, it was when the darkness covered the sky. The stars shimmered brightly, yet the moon was gone.
Your breathing was irregular. The rough slapping of the skin was echoing throughout the empty house. It sounded like you were hurt but he knew that wasn’t the case. No, not at all.
After all, the sounds you were making made his heart beat twice as much.
It wouldn’t leave his ears, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. He wanted to help, he felt like he needed to. It was strange, as if this kind of thing had happened before.
Before he knew it, he had gone off the cushioned seat made just for him. He was standing in his long white dress. Far too simple when compared to the other dresses you’ve sewn. But you liked this dress and the doll knew that.
Walking seemed strange, but he walked like he had been doing it his entire life.
He wished he could remember more.
He peeked through the door to see your hands on your lower half, your moaning screaming becoming louder as he neared.
It was a fascinating sight.
The way your hands were moving rhythmically, a smile plastered on your face.
You looked so lonely.
He watched the entire thing, never taking another step and leaving once you finished with a hypnotic note.
The same name from before came out of your mouth again.
He couldn’t bear to hear it.
He knew you treasured him the most. That if this whole house were to burn down, you’d come running to him rather than get your belongings.
You were obsessed with him. A fact that had always been true.
“That was always a habit of yours.” He chuckled.
It’s almost as if time had seemed to stop. He can speak? Since when?
He hated not knowing things. He wanted to berate you with so many questions.
Questions about him, his body, his name. Questions about who he really is.
Why can’t he remember more?
Was this even something he wanted?
Aether sighed. He should stop moping around, huh? This wasn’t like him at all.
“Are you ever going to come in? You’ve been doing that for days.” Your question caught him off guard from outside his door.
It’s true that it had become a habit of his to listen and watch while you pleasure yourself. He never dared to walk in, he couldn’t bring himself to confront you. Whatever interactions you had before were enough.
“Hello.” Aether greets.
“How much do you remember?” You ask.
“Enough.” Aether answers, closing the distance between the two of them.
He wonders if it’s just as weird for you too. He can’t feel anything. The way you made his tongue felt strange, unnatural. He can’t even taste you. He wanted to taste you.
Still, he let you kiss him with passion and roughness. Your fingers undoing the braid behind him.
He’s only imagining the sensations of what happened in the past lingering over his entire body.
His body was made with such care, everything is a complete replication of his original body.
“I want to please you.” Aether said in between kisses, he’s breathless, funny enough.
“You can’t.”
You said it so simply, so cruel. Not even bothering to think of a solution. Aether was different from his old self, but then again so were you.
How many years had passed for you to be brought to such a state? He’s mad he didn’t wake up sooner. Even if he knew that he wasn’t in control. You were the one in control. You always were.
“Please.”
When a sigh left your throat, he grinned.
“Do it, like how you always did.” You ordered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
He didn’t really remember much, truly. But, he let his instincts guide him as if what he was doing was a sixth sense.
Aether bent down to his knees. It didn’t hurt, his knees soft and cushioned.
Your fluids soaked his tongue, your hand on his head as you guided him. There was an urge to tease you after asking him to do it by himself only for you to be moving him at your own pace.
Aether didn’t really mind. Perhaps it would be considered messed up for others that you’re doing it with him, but he never cared that much unless it came to you.
Use him however you want.
Praises for how good he was doing entered his ears and he groaned, putting more of his efforts into doing what you had asked of him.
And when you finished right on his face, liquid dripping down to his chin. Aether could do nothing but smile.
He’s so thankful you’d brought him back for this.
“Again.” You said.
Aether relished in your desires.
#aether april#aepril#plattered writings#aether x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact smut#sub genshin impact#sub genshin#sub aether#dom reader#dom!reader#sub!aether
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hi! your angst is so so good! could you please write something angsty around the Selena Gomez song “Lose You to Love Me” kind of about a girl learning to love herself after a toxic love with Harry and then them reuniting after growing up years later, please?
Lose You to Love Me
read my other work here
pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader
word count: 4.2k
summary: a run-in with your childhood sweetheart brings up old memories, and lingering feelings.
a/n: my friend, you have no idea what you've done sending this ask in. technically you do, because I posted about it after i received it. but this song popped into my head a little over a week ago, and has been running up there on repeat. it's been making me think about my life and relationships, and being all reflective or whatever. i hate it. 😂
I have been thinking about this story pretty much non-stop since you sent the ask, and was so exited to finally get it written. i hope it's what you were looking for, and that you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.
also, a note about the story, the italicized parts are flashbacks.
i know we’re on all on edge after last night, so why not throw some angst in there to make it worse!
tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat
As you moved through the streets of London, you were so focused on making it to your destination that you weren’t paying attention to the faces passing you by.
But he was, and he recognized yours immediately.
“Y/N?”
You froze in place, causing the person walking behind you to crash into you. You apologized and stepped off to the side, looking in the direction of the voice. “Harry,” you breathed out.
Before you could fully process what was happening, Harry had rushed up to you, pulling you into his arms. You closed your eyes, even after all this time he still gave the best hugs. Your mind flashed with memories of all the times you found yourself in his arms. Good and bad.
“I can’t believe it’s you!” He spoke against your neck before pulling back, taking your hands in his as he looked you up and down. “You look amazing. All grown up.”
“Yeah, you too.” You took him in, he had definitely filled out since the last time you saw him. Of course you knew that, no matter how hard you tried to get away from him, you never could get that clean break you so desired. That’s what happens when your ex is one of the biggest stars in the world.
“Gosh, it’s been ages.” He muses.
You purse your lips and nod. “Eleven years.” You feel a knot in your stomach, thinking back to the last time you two spoke.
“Harry, it’s just not fair to me.” You move the speaker away from your mouth, hoping he doesn’t hear your breath hitch.
“And you think you’re being fair to me? This is my dream, Y/N, and I can’t even enjoy it because I’ve got you making me feel bad, or like I’m doing something wrong every time I talk to you!”
“Yeah, well you were my dream.” Your voice is quiet, defeated. “But I guess it’s time for me to wake up.”
Harry is silent on the other end of the phone for a moment. “What,” he lets out a deep breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You wipe your eyes, sniffling softly. “It means I can’t do this anymore. You’re living your life, you’re finding your way in the world. I need to go off and do the same. Alone.”
Harry gives you a sad smile. “I tried to reach out a few times, I didn’t like how we left things.”
“I know, me either.” You agreed. “But I needed to just sever the tie. It would have been too hard otherwise.”
“I’m sorry,” you look at him curiously. “For how I handled things, for how it ended…”
You held your hand up to stop him. “We were just kids, you were eighteen and an international pop star, you handled things as best you could.”
He smiled gratefully at you. “Do you, uh… do you have some time? Maybe we could grab a coffee and catch up?”
Your mind is begging you to say no, but your mouth doesn’t listen, agreeing immediately. “But I’ll pass on the coffee.’
“Still?” He smirks, remembering how much you hated coffee. “Some things never change.”
****
The two of you order drinks, and get settled at a quiet corner table in a small coffee shop, the conversation starts off simple enough, you catch each other up on your families, you tell him about your career, and how you had relocated to London three years ago for a big promotion. He shares a couple of stories of some of his more memorable moments over the years.
Even after a decade apart, you still managed to fall into conversation with ease. From the moment you had met when you were kids, there was this instant comfort between the two of you. It was no surprise to anyone when you started dating at fifteen. You were inseparable, going everywhere together. You were there at his XFactor audition, you supported him every step of the way. It was when things really started taking off for him that everything changed.
“Hi angel,” Harry’s voice was low and raspy, that’s when you realized you forgot to take the time change into consideration before you called.
“Oh my gosh H, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up, I–”
You’re cut off by his laughter. “It’s alright, I like when you wake me up. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Mum is taking me dress shopping for formal today, I just wanted to see if you had any ideas what you’d be wearing. We could coordinate!” There was a long silence as you waited for him to respond. “Harry?” You asked. Maybe he had fallen back to sleep.
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry.” You could hear him shifting on the other end of the phone. “I have some bad news actually.” He sighed before continuing. “They booked us a bunch of shows in the US, I’m not going to be able to come home for the dance.”
“Oh,” you did your best to mask the disappointment. It was just a dance, Harry was doing amazing things, and you needed to be supportive of that.
“Angel, I’m so sorry, I really tried…”
“No, don’t worry. It’s fine, really.” You assured him while also trying to assure yourself.
You heard a knocking on the other side of the phone, and muffled voices. “Fuck, I’ve gotta go Y/N. I’m so sorry, I love you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know H. I love you too.”
“Okay, we’ll talk soon. I promise.” The call disconnects before you can respond.
That was the beginning of the end for your young love. You had put on a happy face for everyone, especially Harry, but your family and friends were able to see right through it. He probably would have too had he actually been there.
You ended up going to your formal with your friends, but as they danced and laughed, you sat on the sidelines, staring at your phone waiting for a call or a text from Harry. And that’s what your life became from there on.
When Harry would come home, things would be better, but still not what it was. Because he’d be gone for such long stretches, his time was spread so thin when he was home. He would want to spend time with everyone, which didn’t leave enough time for the two of you. You would tag along as much as you could, but your one on one time was lacking. It got to a point where you couldn’t even go out on dates, constantly being bombarded by people asking for pictures or autographs.
That’s when you decided to spend your time behind closed doors. Harry said it was so he could focus on you, but part of you wondered if it was so that he could keep you secret. You knew that there were girls all over the world that wanted to be with him, his team knew that was part of the marketability of him, of the whole group. The second the two of you stopped hanging out publicly, the insecurities started creeping in. From then on, every time you saw a picture of him with another girl, you wondered who she was, why it was okay for him to be seen with her and not you.
As the two of you continued to talk, you glanced down at your watch. “Oh shit,” you interrupt him. “I’m so sorry Harry, I actually have to go. I have a meeting I need to get to.” You stand from your seat and collect your things. Harry stands with you.
“Yeah, of course.” You could have sworn there was a hint of disappointment in his tone. “Hey, you should come to the show tonight. If you’re free I mean.”
You look up at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, it’s Wembley. How many times did we talk about this?”
“A lot,” you smile wistfully, remembering those conversations. Whenever he was feeling discouraged about his journey, you would always be right there to pick him up, assuring him it was going to work out. That he’d be onstage at the famed stadium, and you’d be right there cheering him on.
“It would mean a lot to me to have you there. Full circle and all that.” He said with a smile. “Besides, the whole family is going to be there. I’m sure mum and Gem would love to see you.”
It would be nice to see his family again. You had been all but officially adopted into the clan, spending holidays, dinners, birthdays with them. You were at Harry’s house just as much as you were at your own, possibly more. Sure, you had mourned the loss of your relationship with Harry, but it also broke you that you lost that second family.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.” You agree.
“Amazing.” He pulled you in for a tight hug. “I’ll see you tonight. Just check in at the box office when you get there, I’ll take care of everything.”
****
You made it to your meeting on time, but you were anything but present. Your mind kept going back to Harry, how great he looked, how happy he was to see you. And then the memories started flooding back.
“Y/N?” Your mother’s voice and gentle knock on the door call your attention away from your phone.
“Yeah?”
She sticks her head into your room. “We’re leaving in five minutes, are you ready?”
“Ready?” You suddenly remember that your parents were supposed to be taking you and your sister out to dinner. “Oh, I uh… no. I think I’m going to pass if that’s okay?”
“But honey, we’re going to your favorite restaurant.” You could see the concern spread across her face.
“I know, but Harry is supposed to call and check in. We haven’t had a proper phone date in weeks. I want to make sure I don’t miss him.”
“Y/N…” your mother says in a warning tone. After Harry missed out on formal, you had completely changed. You’d go to school, and then immediately come home waiting to hear from him. You would drop everything the second his name popped up on your phone screen.
“Mum, next time. I promise.”
Your mother lets out a sigh and nods, leaving you alone.
About an hour later, your phone pinged with a text from Harry.
Sorry love, can’t call tonight. Talk to you soon, promise. XO
****
After your meeting, you slipped out of the office. You knew you weren’t going to get anything done today. Besides, you needed to find something to wear tonight. You called Heather, your oldest and closest friends, asking her to meet you at one of your favorite shops.
You told her about your run-in with Harry, and his invitation to go to his show.
“You said no, right?”
“Yeah, I said no. That’s why we’re here, you’re helping me pick an outfit for a concert I’m not going to.” you rolled your eyes.
“Y/N, I say this as your friend, this is a terrible idea and you definitely shouldn’t go.” She says completely seriously. “Do you even remember what life was like for you back then?”
“Come on!” Heather grabbed your arm, trying to pull you out of the booth. “Come dance with us!”
You pull out of her grip, checking your phone for a notification. “I can’t H-”
“Harry’s going to call,” she finishes your sentence. “Y/N, you’re both my friends, but you’re my best friend, so I’m going to be real with you. Harry’s a wakner.”
“Hey,” you reply defensively. “He is not, he’s just really busy. He’s kind of a big deal, you know?”
“I do know. And I also know that while you’re sitting here staring at your phone, you’re missing out on life. But he’s out there living it. You deserve better than that.”
“Right, and in a couple of months I’ll be living that life with him.”
Heather’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not going to university.” You state plainly, her eyes go wide in shock. “Harry is going to get me a job on his team. It won’t be glamorous, and it probably won’t pay much, but we’ll be together and everything will be good again.”
“Have you told your parents about this plan?”
“I have, they aren’t happy about it, but I’m eighteen, so there isn’t really anything they can do about it.”
“And you really think this is the best idea?” She asks you.
“Yes,” you say, a little louder than intended but you needed to get your point across. “Harry and I are supposed to be together, and if this is how it needs to happen, this is how it’s going to happen.” You grab your purse and stand from your seat. “I’m going home, it’s too loud here for me to hear him anyway.”
After that, you stopped going out when your friends invited you. They didn’t understand your relationship, and they were always on your case about it. It was easier to just stay home and wait for Harry. Eventually, the invitations stopped coming. You were fine with that. It made it easier for you to focus on Harry, and be there when he had time for you.
As far as the job, that never happened. About a week after you graduated, you received a call from Harry. He told you that he fought for you, all the guys did, but his team said they weren’t able to make a spot for you.
You were devastated, but you did your best to hide it from him. That didn’t last very long, however, as that was the point where the cracks in your facade of ‘supportive girlfriend’ started coming through. You started seeing what everyone had been telling you, that Harry was out there conquering the world while you were putting your life on hold, spending your life by the phone waiting for a quick text or five minute phone call.
****
When you arrived at Wembley, you gave your name at the window and were immediately ushered to a backstage VIP area. You walked in and smiled to yourself at the turnout. You recognized almost everyone in the room. You stayed by the door, not wanting to interrupt when Gemma’s eyes traveled in your direction, She did a double take before smiling wide and running to you.
“Y/N, I can’t believe it!” She pulled you into a tight hug, which you quickly returned. “Harry told us he ran into you, and invited you to the show. But I wasn’t sure you’d actually come!”
You giggled at her excitement. “Of course I’m here, I told him I’d come.”
“I know, but you’re so nice, I figured you’d say that to his face and then just disappear.” You both laughed, before she took you by the hand, leading you into the group. “Come on, we have so much to catch up on!”
You went around the room, greeting those you had known a decade ago, and meeting the new members of Harry’s entourage. Everyone was so happy to see you, you were being pulled in a million different directions trying to catch up with everyone. They had told you that Harry was with them earlier, but had to leave to get ready. You were grateful for that. It would have been too much to be there with him, and his family.
****
When it was time to go out to the front of house, Gemma locked her arm in yours and you walked together. She stayed by your side the whole night. The two of you were always close, she had always treated you like you were sisters. Often joking that someday Harry would make it official. She made you promise not to leave without giving her your number, she said she wasn’t about to let another ten years go by without seeing you again.
The show was incredible. Harry was incredible. As you watched him up there, you felt your chest swell with pride. Despite what had transpired between the two of you, you couldn’t help but get emotional watching him live the dream that the two of you had spent so much time talking about. He had done it, but on a level that neither of you could have even imagined.
As you listened on, your mind wandered, thinking about the girls those songs were about. The girls that had come after you. You felt tears begin to pool in your eyes as you remembered the first one.
“Come on guys, put it away. Y/N is going to be here any minute.” You heard Heather plead. “This is her first time out since the breakup, she doesn’t need to see it.”
After the phone call where you ended your relationship, you were inconsolable. You cried nonstop, mourning your relationship, the future you were supposed to have, and all the time you wasted waiting for him. Your friends would come over often, but they would mostly just hold you and offer words of encouragement to you as you cried. Nobody was able to get through to you, they weren’t even sure how.
About two months after the breakup, you got this surge of determination. Harry had taken away enough of your life, you weren’t going to let him do it anymore. You texted Heather, and she agreed to gather all your friends for dinner.
You walked in and saw her trying to pull the phone out of her boyfriend’s hands. “What don’t I need to see?” You ask, everyone’s attention snapping to you.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Heather assured you.
You nodded, leaning in to hug your friend, quickly diverting and grabbing the phone out of her hand. You looked down at the screen and saw a paparazzi shot of Harry walking hand in hand with Taylor Swift, it was an article about the budding relationship between the two singers.
“Oh,” you said, dropping the phone on the table. “I uh… I just remembered I’ve got to…” your brain was too cloudy to come up with an excuse, not that they would believe it anyway. You turned and rushed out of the restaurant. Heather hot on your heels.
“Y/N, wait!” She followed you as you ducked into a nearby alleyway, getting to you just in time to watch your back slide down the wall.
You wrapped your arms around your knees and began sobbing uncontrollably. Heather sat down next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into her.
“I… he… I…” You couldn’t form words, too upset to do anything but cry.
“I know babe, I know.” Heather said in a soft tone, rubbing your back comfortably. “I told you he was a wanker.”
You chuckled lightly, your breathing starting to return to normal. You looked up at your friend with tear stained cheeks, your breath hitching as you regained composure. “We just broke up. I’ve been locked in my room crying, and he’s been with her.”
“He’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you. You’re so much better than all of this.” She held your face in her hands and gave you a determined look. “You’re a fucking catch Y/N, he’s an idiot for not seeing that.” You nod, pretending you agree with her. “Let’s get you home. We’ll get a bunch of junk food and watch sad movies. Get all the tears out.”
“Hey Y/N, you alright?” Gemma pulls you from your thoughts.
You suddenly realize the house lights are up, and people are filing out of the stadium. “Oh yeah, sorry. It’s just crazy to think that he went from the weird boy with the dumb jokes to that,” you gesture toward the stage.
“Oh, he’s still the weird boy, he’s just telling his dumb jokes to a whole lot more people.” She joked, slinging her arm around your shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go backstage.”
“Oh, no no no, you go. I should…”
“Not a chance,” she interrupted you. “You’ve gotta come back and see him.” You narrow your eyes at her, wondering why it was so important that you see him, but she just smiles innocently and leads you back to the VIP room.
****
You and Gemma get comfortable on a couch in the back corner of the room, so lost in conversation that you don’t even notice when all eyes in the room land on the door, cheering Harry as he enters. He walks through, offering hugs and handshakes, thanking people for coming and graciously receiving compliments on his performance.
Once he’s made his way to the back, he stops, silently observing you and his sister gossiping and giggling just like you always had.
“You’d better not be talking about me, or I’m telling mum.” His voice pulls you from your conversation, and you both turn to look at him.
Gemma grins and jumps from her seat. “You were outstanding.” She pulled him into a hug, saying something to him in a hushed tone.
He smiled gratefully at her as she sat back down, Harry turned to you with a curious expression. “Well? What did you think?”
“H,” his nickname fell so easily from your lips, as if you had never been apart. You stood up, looking at him with so much awe that he was taken aback. “You did it. I’m so,” you sigh with a shrug. “It was incredible.”
He smiled, dimples on full display. “Thank you, angel. You have no idea what that means to me.” He steps in front of you, pulling you into a firm embrace. You were so lost in the moment that it didn’t even register that he had called you by his pet name for you.
Gemma stood behind you, making sure to get Harry’s attention, she winked at him with a smirk before matriculating back into the crowd, allowing you two a moment.
When you finally separated, Harry looked down at you, his gaze so intense that you felt your cheeks heating up. “I should probably go,” you finally speak up.
“No, wait.” He says in a panicked tone. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”
You furrow your brow, not expecting that. He’s in a room full of the most important people in his life, and he wants to be alone with you? “Yeah, sure.”
He leads you out of the VIP area and down the hall to his dressing room. He opens the door, signaling for you to enter. He follows behind you, closing the door once you both cross the threshold.
You both stand there awkwardly for a few moments before Harry finally breaks the silence. “I’m really glad you came tonight.”
“Me too, thank you for inviting me.” You smile, trying to hide your nerves.
“I, uh…” he takes a breath, running his hand through his hair. “I miss you.”
You look up at him in confusion. “Harry, it’s been eleven years.”
“And I’ve missed you the entire time.” He took a couple of cautious steps towards you. “I was so stupid back then, so stupid. I know I wasn’t fair to you.”
“I told you, it’s fine, you were a kid. You did the best you could.” You assured him.
“I think running into you today was fate.” He ignores your words and keeps going. “We’ve both grown up, I’ve grown up. I see what’s important in life now.”
“Harry…”
“There were so many times I wanted to call you. So many things that happened that I wanted to celebrate with you, but I couldn’t. Every sold out show, every award, all of it, you were the first person I wanted to tell.”
You were speechless. You were listening to his words, watching the vulnerability in his face, all of it completely overwhelming you. Out of everything that could have come from your run in with Harry, this was probably the last thing you would have expected.
“I don’t… what?” Was all you managed to choke out.
“Listen, I’m not saying we jump right back in and pick up where we left off,” your eyes went wide at his words. “I broke your trust, that’s something I need to earn back. But I’d like to try, if you’d let me.”
“Try…”
He reached out, taking your hand and sighing in relief when you didn’t pull away. “I want to show you that I can be what you need, what you deserve.”
“What are you asking?” You ask, searching his face as if it held the answers.
“I just want to be in your life again, be your friend. I want to get to know you now, I want you to get to know me now, and see where things go from there.”
You stood in silence, looking into Harry’s eyes, butterflies filling your stomach at the way he’s looking at you. You nod your head slowly. “Okay,” you respond, barely above a whisper.
“Yeah?” He asks hopefully, you nod with a smile and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “Thank you thank you thank you. I promise I’m not going to mess this up.” You chuckle against his chest. “What’s so funny?”
“Heather is going to kill me.”
A bark of laughter escapes him. “I’ll protect you,” he places a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m not going to lose you again.”
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x plus size reader#harry styles headcanon#harry styles angst#harry's house#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fiction#harry edward styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles blurb#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fic
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reader x dealer rafe! watching the stars while high
╰┈➤ star gazing with dealer!rafe
warnings: mentions of drug use, swearing.
summary: dealer!rafe finds maybank!reader stargazing on the beach by herself.
“yo bare, you seen y/n?” rafe called, nodding towards his friend. looking up, barry chuckled, beginning to notice rafe’s infatuation with the pogue. “she went off that way, she’s high as shit man..” he laughed, winking at rafe as he sighed.
nodding in acknowledgment, rafe followed the direction of barry’s hand, feeling a slight chill as he moved away from the bonfire.
his head turned as he stumbled along the beach, his feet not so steady on the sand. the coast was just about empty, aside from her small figure in the distance, the only light being the end of her joint.
nearing her relaxed frame, the corner of his mouth threatened a smile as his eyes met hers. “hey rafe..” she smiled sweetly, eyes fluttering between open and closed.
he watched in awe as he cheeks hollowed slightly while she smoked, the same smoke exiting through her plump lips.
“why are you all the way down here, by yourself?” he asked, his head tilting when her glassy eyes reflected the moonlight. “hmm, i dunno, i think i just prefer the peace and quiet..” she sighed, falling back to lean on her elbows.
she was nothing like her brother, well, for the most part. sure, she enjoyed a bit of weed, the odd party etc, but she wasn’t obnoxious and social the way he was, y/n maybank was much more reserved, to rafe’s surprise.
he didn’t know her amazingly well, though they had known of eachother their whole lives. that’s just how it is living on an island, everyone knows everyone.
“you mind if i sit?” he asked, almost tripping over his feet as he gestured to the empty space next to her. “not at all, go ahead”
nodding, he situated himself next to her, facing the ocean while his arms rested on top of his knees. “want some?”
he smiled, taking the joint from her hand before mimicking her own actions, inhaling and exhaling smoothly before stubbing it out in the sand.
he watched as she lay back into the sand, the hood of the huge jumper protecting her hair from getting sandy. “you know, rafe cameron, you’re not as bad as people say you are..” she hummed, her eyes scanning across the clear night sky.
cocking an eyebrow, he mimicked her actions but turned to face her. “is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“well i’m just saying, we both know my brother hates you, but i don’t really understand why” she chuckled slightly, it wasn’t really a question, more of a statement. he hummed in response, turning back to look at the same sky.
“look! a shooting star! quick- make a wish!” she beamed, pointing lazily at the bright light flirting across. they sniggered as they both closed their eyes, childishly making a wish.
“what’d you wish for?” he asked curiously. her mouth fell open in feigned shock for a second, swatting his chest playfully. “it won’t come true if i tell you!”
“i’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours..” he smirked, propping himself up face her once again. his eyes scanned her features, admiring the way her glossy lips glistened under the light of the moon and how her lashes fluttered when she blinked.
“hmm, deal” she giggled, rolling onto her side to look at him. “i wish for a treehouse” his brows furrowed in confusion at her words. “a treehouse?”
“not just any treehouse, a special one. one full of books i love, and fairy lights, and blankets, ooh! and a record player, and maybe even a rolling station!” she gushed, fidgeting with her fingers and a sudden wave of vulnerability washed over her.
“why do you want a treehouse so badly?” he laughed, still not satisfied with her answer.
“well, when i was younger, i used to beg my dad to build me one, everyday i’d ask him about it, and everyday he promised he’d buy the plasterboards on the weekend, but he never did. eventually, jj started building me one, when we were about 14, but the project just got abandoned, i suppose he’s too busy these days anyways..”
rafe felt his chest tighten as the sadness in her voice became more obvious, and her fidgeting fingers danced around the hem of her hoodie. “anyways, moving on, what’s your wish?” she asked, quickly glazing over the fact that she’d just opened up to rafe cameron.
“oh, umm, well..i wish, to take you on a date..” he sighed, smiling sheepishly. “a date?” she beamed as shock settled over her brows. “you, rafe cameron, are asking me, a pogue, on a date?” she shrieked, giggling.
“hmm, when you put it that way, i guess not” he joked, amused at her offended stare. “i’m joking, yes, of course i do”
y/n felt slightly skeptical for a moment, she liked rafe, weirdly enough she enjoyed his company, but she couldn’t help but think about all the things her brother had said about him.
“look, i know. i know your brother’s probably told you horror stories about me, but just give me a chance to prove that i’m nothing like he says i am..”
nodding, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “okay, sure..”
“tomorrow at eight o’clock?”
“tomorrow at eight o’clock it is”
giggling, they fell back onto the sand once more, their hands slightly grazing one another’s as they lay there contently.
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x fem!reader#outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron#obx#rafecameron#rafe obx#maybank!reader#rafe x you#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe fanfiction#rafe x y/n
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Neteyam x reader.
I suppose I’ll just have to do myself. This is literally my first time writing fan fiction which I have been an avid reader of myself for years!! Due to the lack of Neteyam fics I’ve decided to take the reins into my own hands!!!
Please go easy on me!!
- - - - - - - -
This is set before the humans come back to Pandora and the Sully family are still living in the forest.
- - - -
Isn’t life strange? How can a simple touch change an entire friendship? Perhaps it was only myself who felt the shift in feelings towards Neteyam but it happened and I have been left with the consequences of a heart aching for a love that may not even be reciprocated.
“Why are you ignoring me?” Neteyam asks, The eldest Sully brother has caught me by the river washing soiled loin clothes. His eyes were filled with a mix of annoyance and anger from my sudden change in disposition towards him.
“I am not ignoring you, I am simply busy.” My tone curt, I truly cannot understand how love and longing has made me sour. I spoke to my sister on how she felt when encountering love, she told me wistful tales of secret moments shared under the stars, endless laughter and the constant preening of hair to look her best. I know I love him but his presence causes me to tense up, like my throat is being held and manipulated to speak in nothing but short, blunt sentences.
“You know what I mean!” He says kneeling down next to me desperately trying to catch my eye line but being sorely disappointed when I stand up from the edge of the small pond twisting the loin cloth to expel any excess water. “You haven’t looked at me in three days, have I done something to upset you? Please tell me so I can make it right.” He practically begged but I ignored Neteyam once more leaving him staring at his reflection in the water.
Neteyam was so angry, why wouldn’t you talk to him?! Ever since you two had be mere toddlers you had both spent your days with one another chasing beetles or watching hunters flying on their Ikran. Your days had been filled with endless laughter, jokes and smiles but now that had all been ripped away from Neteyam for no reason and he wanted answers.
“What is wrong?” Neytiri asks her eldest son who was crouched by the fire. His glare was thoughtful but he also stole the occasional glance at you who sat across from the flames talking with Kiri. Why were you smiling at her but not him? Neteyam wracked his brain for any moment in recent days that might have offended you.
“I am fine, Mother.” Neteyam snapped but Neytiri followed his gaze across to you. She couldn’t help but sigh “You two have been friends for as long as you both could walk. A friendship like that is not easy to break my son.” Neytiri offered her words of comfort to her son but Neteyam sighed running a hand through his hair his gaze returning back to you.
“Why will you not just tell him how you feel? Just from the way he looks at you it is obvious that he feels the same.” Kiri said to you but you just roll your eyes. “It is not that simple Kiri, we have been friends for so long and I am afraid that I could jeopardise years of happy memories because of my feelings.” You express to Kiri who looks like she wants to strangle you.
The night proceeds with you and Neteyam sharing stolen glances from across the fire. It seemed that the hostility was getting to the eldest son as he stood from his crouch and strode over towards you. His steps were long and powerful as navi heads turned from the powerful sight. Neteyam grabbed your hand pulling you up from your place on the floor “What are you doing?” You hiss but he did not stop dragging you away from the large crowd and out into the open air.
“Neteya..” he cuts you off.
“Why are you ignoring me? Do you know how frustrating this is?! To have someone you care about so deeply ignore you for no reason!” His frustration was clear from his tone and face.
“I am not ignoring you!” You snap like a venomous snake.
“Yes you are! You do not greet me with smiles anymore, you do not ask to braid my hair, you do not run to me to tell me about your day. It all stopped and I want to know why!” He takes a step closer, his anger flared inside him, chest heaving as he waited for your response.
“I’m not-“ You start to say but Neteyam stops you by sighing, his hand caressing your cheek, his forehead pressed up against yours.
“Please just tell me what I have done wrong, I will do anything to make amends but just please do not ignore me, my heart cannot take it.” He speaks in soft hushed tones, this moment was just meant for the two of you and perhaps now you could confess.
“Two days ago, in the clearing just beyond the mountains your finger tips brushed my cheek, it was such a simple gesture Neteyam but it changed something within me. It shifted my world, my feelings towards you changed within that moment and I’m afraid that my feelings will ruin our friendship.” You explain and his eyes soften immediately but he remains close to you.
“You have feelings for me?” He asks softly, your bright yellow eyes meet his as you nod slowly. “You do not know how long I have waited for you to say that. I…I thought that I had lost you.” He says the relief on his face stuns you. “My love, I have adored you since we were children, my heart beats only to see your smiling face.”
You cannot believe what you are hearing. Neteyam has always felt the same way, for how many years? It seems that you haven’t been in love alone at all and from that moment you swear to yourself that you shall never let Neteyam forget how much you love him.
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None of Those Girls Are Me Part 2 - Roronoa Zoro x Reader
Status: Incomplete
Summary: Reader is completely oblivious to Zoro’s feelings
Warnings: 18+, Language, might be smut or implied smut in further chapters
You had remained next to him for the rest of the night – completely unaware as to how grateful he was that you had given up on your random flirtations. Unsurprisingly, the more you drank the more animated you became – increasingly excited about every topic of conversation, laughing without a care in the world and so, so oblivious to the way Zoro was looking at you. He was grateful for that too. He could let himself indulge, just a little, safe in the knowledge that any lingering looks that could give him away were far from your radar.
The bar lights reflected in your eyes, emphasising their own brightness lit up by your smile. Zoro couldn’t help but think that the stars themselves were dancing in those eyes, and only for him. This delusion was only exacerbated by the way your thighs were touching his and the ease at which you invaded his personal space, as if you already knew he had made room for you behind his walls months ago.
He was too busy allowing himself to relax against your hand on his forearm that your question threw him completely off guard.
“So what sort of girls do you like?” You were looking at him expectantly, as if he was supposed to respond with anything other than “You, obviously”.
He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I told you I’m not really into the one night stand thing.”
You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly. “I know. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking in general. Oh!” You wiggled your fingers, trying to think, “Who was that girl? Urgh,” fingers increased speed as you wracked your brain. “Toshiko? The marine, with the swords. You liked her.”
Zoro’s eyes studied your carefully. “Tashigi. She’s a pain in the arse.”
You smiled wryly at him. “Uh huh.”
He wasn’t quite sure where you were going with this, but was definitely sure he wasn’t going to like it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Zoro watched as you chewed your lips, trying really, really hard not to think what those lips tasted like. Probably alcohol at this point, his probably did too. Which was more than find since he could blame said alcohol for his inability to stop staring.
“Well,” you shuffled almost impossibly closer, “Just in my experience if someone gets under your skin that much there’s a reason why.”
He let out an amused sigh and tried to force the upturned corner of his mouth back to neutrality. The irony of you saying that to him was surely the universe’s biggest “fuck you” yet.
You had noticed the change in his expression. “I knew it!”
Oh fuck. He prepared himself for the onslaught of questions, the feigned disbelief because obviously you had to be aware, and, lastly, he prepared himself for the “gentle” let down that while you liked him, it wasn’t in that way but you still wanted to be friends – for the sake of the crew, and all. He hadn’t prepared himself for the triumphant way you clapped your hands together, eyes lighting up almost too brightly.
“You do like her!”
The fuck.
He took a sip of his drink. A rather long sip. More of a downing if anything. Thankfully the bar was so busy that whenever one of you went to get a round you came back with multiples to save the constant queueing. So he kept drinking. It was almost as if his brain had short circuited. If he said he didn’t, you would just tease him about denying his feelings. But he couldn’t say he did because obviously that was a lie. You were clearly expecting some sort of reaction, and him just downing drinks wasn’t exactly giving off the impression that he Did Not Care. So, in a last act of desperation he did something completely out of character that he was surely going to regret, but he’d found himself digging such a hole the only way out was to blow the whole terrain up. He set his drink down and turned to face you, trying to show some semblance of indifference. “Say if I did like anyone, how do I…” he sighed. This was the worst idea but the only one that wasn’t screaming from the rooftops. “Do that.”
The smile on your face was almost maniacal. He would find it adorable if it didn’t instil him with fear. You were clearly not going to let this go. “Are you asking me for dating advice?” You laughed and his heart twinged. “The great Pirate Hunter Zoro is afraid of telling a girl he likes her?”
Obviously yes. But you didn’t have to spell it out. You could have afforded him that dignity at least. But his mouth spoke before his brain engaged and said the worst possible thing. “No, just tell me what girls like. What you would like.”
You smirked and picked up your drink offering a toast. “Oh, I’m going to get you so many girls.”
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𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞
ੈ✩ pairing: eddie munson x reader
ੈ✩ summary: a late night at lover’s lake has eddie falling head over heels for you.
ੈ✩ warnings: smut (18+), unprotected sex, drug use, choking
ੈ✩ wc: 2.6k
ੈ✩ a/n this was supposed to be a blurb um rip
eddie munson is afraid to break you. he treats you like glass, though crystal would be more accurate than anything tempered. he’s afraid to touch you, really touch you, even though you had beckoned him like a river goddess down at the lake with your soft smile and doe-eyes, and god, you’d been invading his dreams since the moment you’d arrived in hawkins.
eddie doesn’t do anything half-assed — not as hellfire club’s DM, not as corroded coffin’s guitarist, certainly not as a lover. it’s what you like about him, that underneath all that sterling silver is calloused bravery.
but now, in the dead of night at lover’s lake, he stands there shivering just a bit and refusing to break the gossamer abstraction of whatever web acts as a barrier between the two of you. he fiddles with his rings as he watches you lick the joint into place. the tension is threadbare and aching to be cut with a knife.
he’s mesmerized by the glow of the flame nearly licking your face when you light the joint. you blink back, blowing smoke at his face with a grin.
“all yours, munchkin,” you murmur.
“that’s new. y’come up with that on your own?” eddie scoffs, taking the joint from you. he thinks that maybe he needs something stronger than weed right now to calm down. he doesn’t know why it feels like every electron in his body seems to shake the closer you get to him. maybe it was yesterday’s acid trip.
he thinks briefly about what that high would be like with you, imagining the two of you peaking at the same time and seeing stars in each other’s irises. maybe one day.
“yes, actually.”
he mumbles some smartass comeback, but you don’t respond. the earth seems to stand still — even the slow current of the lake is eerily stagnant while the two of you wordlessly pass the joint back and forth. "come on eileen” comes on the radio and eddie makes a snide remark awaiting your approval or denouncement, but you’re too busy watching the reflection of the moon on the lake. within minutes, you’re pulling off your denim shorts.
“what’re you--”
“you coming or what?” you tease him as your hair billows around you, framing your face. your back is turned as you strip off your— eddie’s — hellfire club t-shirt. you’d insisted on borrowing his earlier because you wanted your own, and secretly, he wants it back just so he can keep your scent in his room. as it lands on the ground, eddie’s wide eyes trail up your bare body, which gets smaller and enveloped in darkness as you walk away from him.
“fuck it,” he curses under his breath, quick and clumsy in his movements to follow your lead. he contemplates whether or not to take off his boxers but the splash of the water makes him panic, so he runs in after you instead with them still on.
he gulps down the lump in his throat once he sees you floating on your back, eyes closed and brain shut off from the world. you look so peaceful that he doesn’t want to disturb you, but you open your eyes just to smile at him in a way that looks like more. eddie doesn’t know how to describe it, but there’s something different — maybe it’s the moonlight, perhaps it’s the weed, but he swears something shifts.
you swim over to him, splashing him on the way. in fits of giggles, the two of you play like little kids until the endorphins in eddie’s brain make him fearless. suddenly, he disposes of his inhibitions -- he can touch you again. fingertips dancing across your naked waist in retaliation, in innocent tickles, until the gesture feels almost obscene. after you calm down from your hushed, breathless laughter, eddie is hyper-aware of your naked form in front of him, obscured by the lake, but naked nonetheless.
after the upside-down, eddie’s been cautious. it’s against his very nature, but the nightmares hold him to a different standard. but the way you look at him right now makes him want to break free — he’s been good for too long now. two blinks and an exhale and he realizes that he feels lightheaded. maybe you are a river goddess after all.
you lean into him and it takes his breath away. with wide eyes, you look at him with something unfathomable. he’s about to kiss you, but you raise a finger to your lips. shhh.
rustling leaves and footsteps steal your attention from eddie for a few moments as he watches the gears in your brain turn, your ears fine-tuning from the sudden presence of another. when you look towards land, there’s nothing there.
“hawkins is definitely fucking haunted, huh?”
“it’s that damn hellfire cult,” eddie jokes. he’s relieved to hear your laugh, but part of his spirit is broken from the sudden burst in his bubble. he thinks that maybe he’s still high enough to kiss you. maybe.
but you swim to shore before he even has time to think. the humid july air licks your wet skin as you shiver, draping a blanket from eddie’s truck bed around you as you watch him come back to you. he follows your lead, covering himself up with a blanket as he plops down in the grass next to you.
“what’ve you been waiting for, eds?” you ask him slowly, refusing to make eye contact with him.
“what do you mean?”
“you know what i mean.”
it’s this time that you look at him, actually look at him, with your libertine gaze muted under coquettish lashes, mouth pulled into a deceptive, innocent pout. you know exactly what you’re doing. eddie has a hint of it, too, but he doesn’t have the usual confidence that carries his eccentric personality. no, with you, all of his walls are torn down without as much as you trying. the mere proximity of you makes his stomach drop.
he gulps. tries out that cocky attitude of his that he normally parades. he’s high enough, anyway.
“gotta be more specific, sweetheart.”
at this point, you can’t wait any longer. the moment between blinking your lashes at him and closing in the gap between you feels like an hour for him, but a split second for you. but when it happens, when he feels your soft lips on his tasting of sweetness with a hint of weed and mint, he takes the lead that you’ve been secretly prompting him of — strong, silver-adorned hands gripping your jaw as he moves into your space.
you’ve wanted him long enough to not care at how you’re perceived at this moment, which is a miracle that you’re willing to unpack at a later date. when you kiss him, you think that maybe you could consume, be the succubus for once. how beautiful he is when he’s all over your mouth.
you stumble in your balance, too lost in his lips to even be aware of your own body. when you’re conscious of yourself again, you unravel the blanket draped around your shoulders to set beneath you, leaning backward onto its soft cloth. eddie follows your lead and descends his kisses down your throat to suckle on your collarbone. he wishes he could bottle up every sound out of your mouth for later.
“was that specific enough?” you whisper, pulling away. you grin at him and it’s like the moonlight illuminates your face and nothing else. his giant brown eyes trail your bare face and your chest, and he remembers that you’re fully naked under him. and jesus christ, he’s fully naked above you besides the stupid striped blanket bunched around his hips.
“think so,” he grins.
he resumes kissing your mouth, using his teeth to nip you in a way that leaves the slightest red mark, but not enough to linger. you’re still too elusive for him to know whether or not a lovebite would be acceptable, but god knows he’d love to mark you as his.
your tiny mewls encourage him further, so he presses his lips onto your collarbone, then your chest again, until he suckles onto your nipple with eagerness. you moan in response, gripping his dark locks from his scalp as hard as you can. your eagerness makes him harder. he has to tell himself to calm down, convince himself not to completely rut against your thigh, but god, it’s so hard.
“stop playing with me,” you whine in desperation.
“isn’t that what you wanted, huh?” eddie taunts you. his anxiety has dissipated and he’s himself again, that little shit. grinning his little fangs at you before he gets your permission to devour you completely. and you thought you were the succubus.
“was just trying to get a rise outta you, eds. i need you. now,” you demand, bucking your hips upwards as you tug at his still-damp curls. “’m not gonna fuckin’ beg.”
“mm, but what if that’s what’ll get me to do anything to you?”
you let out an irritated huff. two can play at that game.
without a warning, you rise from the ground to flip eddie onto his back, switching your positions. now, you straddle him, the moonlight from the lake slightly backlighting your silhouette in a way that makes you look like a vision from heaven. it’s funny how much eddie wants you — wants you so bad that his mouth is dry from all that thirst but he realizes he’s salivating from the sight of you alone.
you’re on top of him, his naked body, and his dick is hard and raised to hit the small trail of the lining of his stomach. he doesn’t have the time to blush or be embarrassed, so he merely sets his ringed fingers on your hips while he gazes up at you.
“not so used to being controlled, munson?” you tease.
“not used to… much,” he croaks with honesty. his high makes him vulnerable around you. he doesn’t care. “’s been a while.”
“really?”
“mhm.”
“y’know, as the hotshot dungeon master and all, i thought you’d be getting the most pussy.”
“please. i barely have the time. and the time i do have has been for you. ever since you stepped foot in hawkins, i’ve wanted to make time for you.”
“shut up. not the eddie munson getting all soft for me.”
he’s about to retaliate with one of his smart-ass responses but you grind your pussy onto his hard length and it makes him shiver completely. the grip his hands have on your hips get even tighter, clutching you as if you’re about to flee.
“excited, are we?”
“hurry up before i change my mind.”
it’s a first for both of you — this spontaneous intimacy, this lust that each of you is acting upon despite the bottled-up desires lasting for months on both ends. neither of you had ever made the assumption that the two of you would hook up despite the thought lingering in the back of your minds. and tonight, it was only to become a reality.
he pushes his cock into you gently, easily losing himself once he feels how warm and tight you are while you hold back tears from the feeling of his thickness. maybe it’s because you’re high, but you think this is what it feels like — divinity in its purest form.
“you’re so beautiful,” eddie slurs into your neck when he rises his upper body while he pushes into you, stamina at a sudden all-time high.
“you are,” you breathlessly reply.
he’s mesmerized by the way you ride him, the languid shift of your hips as your cunt pulsates around his cock, gripping him like a vice. he brings his hands to cradle your lips and you shiver from the cool silver of those damn rings of his. the feeling of his fingertips dancing around your sides, rising to palm your bouncing breasts.
with a grin, you grind your body forward and moan lewdly. he can’t take it — he nearly bursts right then and there if it isn’t for the fact that he switches your positions.
even in his domination, he’s still gentle, still handling you like you’re a fallen seraphim. you huff at him and buck your hips up aggressively to report otherwise — that you want to be treated roughly, that you want to achieve a certain level of catharsis with his passion.
eddie seems to understand at least a part of it considering the depth and speed of his thrusts, ramming into you mercilessly as you cry out in pleasure.
“holy— shit—”
“eddieeee, think ‘m gonna cum soon,” you gasp as you writhe underneath him. your body feels like it’s vibrating, so you use eddie as a reminder that you’re alive. tugs to the hair, slaps to the skin.
“yeah? cum for me, sweetheart. i wanna see it all over your face.”
his comment alone makes your heart pound even faster. it’s fitting, really, considering that the moment you want to say anything, you realize how much you want to impress him. how much you adore him, how much of those hours of examining him in his quieter state during senior year physics had paid off. he really is a sweetheart, that eddie munson. how could anyone say otherwise?
“oh, god, that feels so good—”
you gasp softly, keening into the warmth of his palm on your face as you kiss his fingers, taking them knuckle-deep into your mouth before he even has the idea to ask. his jaw is slack, watching you.
with a pop, he lets go of your mouth so that he can drag his canines against the swell of your throat, arching along with the rest of your body under him. gripping the towel underneath you, your other hand tangled in his hair, you whine softly.
“yeah?” he murmurs against your skin, and you swear that the raspy sound of his voice, breathless, contributes to the blatant intoxication you have from his touch.
it’s like you’ve gone dumb, your breath rugged and head spinning. he’s lifted himself up now so that he’s supporting his body with his knees. eddie spreads your legs wider, hands gripping your thighs and pulling them upward for easier access. at this angle, you think you’re about to lose it.
there’s no sweeter sound in the world than the sound of you begging for him.
“eddie,” you whine. “oh my god—”
“you gonna let go for me?”
“y-yes. fuck, i’m gonna—”
“fuck— fuck! shit, i’m close, too,” he grunts.
he widens his eyes at the sounds coming from your mouth and suddenly his hands are over your mouth as he chuckles breathlessly.
“y’gonna wake the ghosts up, baby.”
“shut up,” you muffle underneath him. he’s barely holding you down, so you take his hand in yours and move it to your throat.
he squeezes slightly, just enough for that sweet head rush to flow through your fucked-out head. you swear you lose your vision for a second when the threshold comes. it’s tectonic, earth-shattering, the way his cock plunged into you so deeply. you nearly wail as you orgasm. how fragile you are, his poor little thing. underneath the moonlight the slickness of your skin makes you look like you’d been washed ashore.
within seconds, eddie is able to release himself with a guttural groan, his head buried into your shoulder, soft curls tickling the underside of your chin. his hair is still a bit damp, so it’s a cooling sensation. he kisses you right then, swallows up your exhales while your naked chest heaves up and down to calm down from the adrenaline.
eddie attempts to get up but his legs are slightly disoriented. he’s too drunk on your body to leave it, anyways.
he decides to bury his head into your chest, breathing heavily as he watches the swell of your belly move up and down as you breathe with him.
“do you wanna see a movie with me on saturday?”
“you’re asking me out?” you chuckle.
“obviously.”
“thought you’d never ask, munson.”
𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬!
#reposting bc it isnt in the tags sry#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfiction#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#stranger things smut#joseph quinn x you#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn smut#eddie munson oneshot
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