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undercoverpena · 6 months

Text

stockings and stars

javier peña x f!reader

summary: Still need the star putting on the top of the tree. ive got other plans for you Because I’m the star? yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back

from the late night texts world - but can still be enjoyed on its own. chapter warnings: allusion to/mentions of smut. no actual smut. javi undresses you, though. flirting. fluff. reader wears red lingerie and a dressing gown. javi flirting. sexy talk, romcom vibes ofc ✨ wordcount: 3k

an: to @goodwithcheese merry christmas from me, to you. thank you for everything, for the tuesday fun we have - i wanted nothing more than to have this out sooner, but life, you know? but, i adore you. and I'm so glad we found one another. ahuge thanks to @thetriumphantpanda who cheerleaded for me throughout.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Will I be seeing Santa Javi today? I want to decorate my tree.

one time I come to yours in a red shirt

You also had the tree under your arm and a bag of baubles, I’d class those as gifts.

keep talking baby and you can decorate your tree alone

Think I’m gonna wear that shirt you left here while I do it. Make sure I have to get up on my tip toes. Hope it doesn't rise up...

you don’t play fair

I think I’ll be in stockings too…

youre killing me

Maybe they’re white and red, and…

baby if i wasn’t putting this thing up for Pop, i’d be driving over right now

Hope you hurry up, I need someone tall to put the star on top of the tree.

how am I gonna eat you out when youre perched on the tree baby

The last thing on his to-do list from his Pop is to hang the front porch garland.

He had learnt there had been a huge difference in the front and the back porch garlands. A fifteen-minute-long difference when he'd timed the response given to his sarcastic answer.

Javi learnt there was not only one for the back porch and the front, but one which sat across the fireplace and one on the staircase.

He learnt that after he'd made a joke about mixing them up—earning himself a very pointed glare, and the task of the front porch.

Now, it’s a battle he’s losing.

Tremendously so.

While he’d never want his Pop to do the more challenging tasks, he did rather hate he hadn’t thought to trade this one in for the back porch at the very least—because that had looked fucking easy.

Holding the garland in hand, he’s suddenly hit with a second wave of nostalgia, the first having arrived when he'd pulled down the box and peered into it.

It did the same thing as it had done then, all but rushed over him, layering itself on his shoulders, sitting, nothing short of a comfortable weight on him. Letting his gaze fall out over it, he smiles at the tuffs of fabric, all the bows tied by hand, all in an array of sizes and shades.

Over time, he can see how they've become sun-dyed, remembering the first year they'd been sewn into the faux greenery by his mamá, memories of her all hunched over, humming carols.

Smiling, he rolls his lips, letting out a heavier sigh than he intended as he drags it to the post he’d begin at.

But, all he wonders is whether in the years he wasn’t here, whether it was occasionally hung—or if this year is just that special.

The mere hint that he was going to ask if you wished to spend Christmas at the ranch had sent his Pop into overdrive. Practically yanked him out of his chair like he’d been electrified, a bunch of orders being flung from under his white, wiry moustache that they needed to get ready.

He wasn't sure he'd get the image of his Pop suddenly scrambling around like a man half his age, to drag the decorations out from the cupboard, would ever be erased from his mind. Least of all the sound you'd made aww'ing down the phone when he'd given you a condensed version of the story.

Because he hasn't asked you yet, not properly.

Even though he's spent the last two days at the back of barns and spending a ridiculous amount of time at the hardware store—because we need to make sure the lights stay up, Jav.

He just hasn't found the right time to ask you. A promise each time he goes to see you left in the air. Not that his Pop remembers that, instead he's just busy thinking up ways to make it special: one of which includes decorating the trees at the entrance to the ranch.

An idea having sprouted with the newest ranch hand—one which, if Javi overheard correctly, involves rope acting like tinsel and a cowboy hat being the star on the top of the trees.

Feeling his phone vibrate, he temporarily ignores it as he begins to weave the beginning of the garland around the wood—already knowing, before he tries to move it around the spindles, that it isn’t going to be easy.

Because nothing ever fucking is.

Least of all when you’re waiting for him.

His mind begins to concoct images of you in bows and sheer material, lips painted, sat waiting, smelling nothing short of heavenly as you call out for—

“Fuck,” he shouts, dropping the garland to the ground.

It had pricked him, stabbed him right in the skin—hand shaking the pain out, face likely all scrunched. And, if it didn't have sentimental value, he's sure he'd have kicked its protesting ass with everything he had. Instead, he just narrows his eyes more than he had done moments ago as he begins again.

He feels his nostrils flare when it begins to undo itself. The sound of faux bristles on wood grates him before it will even attempt to do what he needs it to.

And it makes him want to quit, to throw it back into the box and tell his Pop it isn’t worth it. But he knows it is. Knows that his mama didn’t spend hours bent over under flickering light for it not to be seen.

Javi also strongly suspects you’d love it. Likely run your fingers over several bows asking who made it. He can even imagine the look of joy on your face when he tells you.

It’s why, if he didn’t already suspect it anyway, he’s pretty sure his Pop loves you more than him. Because even the first Christmas he was back, there weren’t this many decorations; not nearly as much need to have them all out, either.

Not that Javi really minds—or blames him.

There’s a notable shift in energy when you stay over. Even more so in him. He can see there’s a cheer and a glow to the place—one Javi hates watching vanish when he takes you back to your place.

It's why, when—and where—he can, he fights for you to be here. Practically finds convincing ways to do so, including, crossword puzzles, dinner, and two-person showers. But, at some stage, your clothing dwindles, underwear runs low, and he has to make the painful drive into town to return you to your place.

Your fingers in his hair, practically clambered into his lap as you whisper that you’ll be back before he knows it. His fingers on your chin, thumb stroking out the words he says right back—that he’ll miss you all the same.

Javier Peña. Texan softie—what will the world think?

He only thinks one thing when he drives back—a response which had been there on his lips. Guess they’ll see just how much I love you. A thing you know, comment on, say back to him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. An array of promises there, sometimes spoken at a normal level and sometimes whispered.

You always keep them, just like the one that you are always back before he knows it.

He likes it when you are. Enjoys it when you’re nestled beside him, arm across his chest, hand close to his ribs—strumming them, tracing lines and words he tries to understand before sleep takes him.

He still always sleeps better when you’re beside him. When his breathing can mirror yours, when he can feel for you in the night when he’s awoken with nightmares and things he knows won’t ever come true.

Now, he’s fighting a different battle. One to get to you.

Halted in his path to freedom by the garland which refused to be hung, and could be labelled as giving him more grief than the horses which had banded together. A phrase he never thought he’d admit out loud, never mind think.

You still fighting with the garland?

baby its torturing me on purpose

Do you want me to come and help?

will you come in the stockings

No!! Your dad is there.

then stay there actually lie down, but do not begin without me

Still need the star putting on the top of the tree.

ive got other plans for you

Because I’m the star?

yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back

Hurry then.

i’m hurrying

He does hurry—practically scratched up by the time he’s parking his truck outside your place.

As he takes the step up to your door, Javi realises how much he misses it here when he doesn’t visit. A place less frequent and often spent time in, even under your insistence of renting it.

It is always usually a stopping point, him parking up, letting you go in and grab what you need before you're back in his truck, heading back to his.

He does like your place though, likes how small it is, how cosy. Plus, it has all the things which make you, you. A thing his place is currently missing.

Although, as he steps through the door, and calls your name, he does have to admit it currently looks fucking ridiculous.

On a good day, he’d describe your place as crowded, but right now, it’s claustrophobic.

The tree you’d forced him to get is shoved into a corner, branches fluffed out, surrounded by the piles of unpacked boxes you’ve tried to discreetly hide. Your remaining floorspace is overtaken by a bit of rug, several piles of books (you have no room for, but continue to buy) and odd bits of furniture you find and attempt to restore.

For the most part, you’ve decorated. A thing you did inform him of.

You’ll be pleased to know when you get here your only job is the star. managed it all yourself, did you I’m a very competent woman, Javi. oh i know baby ive seen you with a crossword Does that do it for you? Me finishing a crossword. does something to me Get over here. im leaving now

There’s a warm, comforting glow spread out across the place from the fairy lights you’ve hung and the array of mismatched decorations—both bought and handmade—hanging from branches.

He breathes in the scent of orange which hangs in the air, his eyes finding the culprit on your fireplace, a garland—one not dissimilar to the one he’d been battled with—places there, mocking him due to the ease of which had been laid, with oranges and little beads all entwined within it.

Snorting, he glances back at your tree, spotting the things he's been with you when you've bought. And, as promised—and informed him through text—there’s nothing at the top of your tree.

“You finally made it!”

Spinning on his heel, he comes face to face with you, and fuck if the sight of you doesn’t make it all worth it.

Dressed in a red, silky dressing gown, all tied in the middle, you're a vision. Then, there's the fact your lips are painted a shade he’d now famously dub Christmas red, a colour he wants nothing more than to be stained with. A path of it from his mouth down to the space where his jeans meet his hips. A thought which seems to only make how tight his jeans are even more uncomfortable.

“Cariño, you’re…”

You sway a little, letting the fabric move—allowing his gaze to land on the stockings. The ones he’s been thinking about all afternoon. The ones he can’t wait to feel under his palm and know whether they’ll create friction when wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck me.”

“I’m kinda banking on it,” you say, biting your red-painted lip. “But first…”

His hand crawls around your waist, feeling the smooth, soft texture under his hand—swallowing, dragging his eyes up and down you, unsure how he could ever be so lucky—how something so good could ever be here for him to unwrap.

“I need you to hang the star,” you continue.

“Right now?”

Nodding, you ghost your lips over his. “I’ve been so good waiting for you.”

“You're never good. You, baby, are a menace.”

“I’m your menace.”

Snorting, he presses a kiss to your lips. “Damn right, you are.”

Moving from you, reluctantly, only to pick up the gold star he assumes you want to hang, getting a nod from you that he’s right.

“Need to ask you something too.”

And even though he’s only taken a mere short step from you, he’s floored all over again about what a picture you look like when he glances back. That you’re standing all for him, dressed in nothing but cheer and ribbons all for him.

“Go on.”

Turning to your tree, he flattens his hand to the wall for stability. “I wanted…”

His concentration slides in—suddenly aware he doesn’t want to knock anything from the branches. Doesn’t want to force things to be misplaced from where they were expertly hung.

He’s also sure he’s wanting to swallow the question. A part of him, all the way deep inside of him, having been bracing—and waiting—to hear you’d be apart for the holidays. A thing the two of you have rarely been since you moved here, not a day going by he hasn’t seen you for at least an hour.

“Wanted to know if you—shit—” the star almost sitting atop, before at the last minute protesting. “I wanted to know if you wanted to spend Christmas with me—with us, me and Pop. At the ranch.”

The star slides into place, sitting more comfortably with another shove, more branch supporting it.

But he doesn’t turn, not immediately. Not as the question hums around him, swirls in the silence of you not immediately saying yes. So much so, that it takes him a second to move on his heels, to face you—to read the answer before it’s delivered.

What he sees is something his heart couldn’t have ever prepared for.

You, grinning—a silly, almost goofy, smile spreading out as you bite down on your lip, forehead slightly crinkled.

“You… you want me to spend the holidays with you?”

“Of course—cariño, I want nothing more than for you to be with me.”

It all quick to leave his mouth, mirroring the movement to be back in front of you, fingers under your chin, lifting your eyes—those beautiful, fucking eyes—to his.

“Do… do you—wanna spend it with me?”

You pull a different face before you’re nodding. One more excited, one which begins to expel out over a smile and a bunch of escaping phrases such as I can’t believe you want me with you and of course.

“Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

Shrugging, you scrunch your nose—an act he finds just as cute as the first time he saw it. “Guess it’s a big deal. It’s… a thing people do with families.”

Pulling you close by your hips, your hand lands flat on his chest. “You are my family.”

“Javi,” you whisper, making each letter feel so individual the way you say it, that it makes his heart double.

“It’s true. You’re it for me, cariño. All I’ve wished for.”

Eyes widening, your eyes shimmer under the lights—more so than normal. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin before pressing a kiss to his mouth. One which turns hungry, desperate—your mouth searing, a thing he’s craved since he woke up before the sun even rose.

“Baby,” you whisper.

And he hums.

It vibrates out, able to feel it from the way his fingers cup your cheek.

“Undo me.”

Releasing your lips with a pop, he opens his eyes, studying your eyes, moving from one to the other.

“Go on,” you urge in a whisper, more breathless, more tinged with something that makes his skin hot.

Sliding his fingers over the knot, he barely has to tug before it comes undone—unveiling you, like a curtain which wishes to part. If he’d thought you’d looked good before, he’s sure every bit of you is a sin now—a Christmas sin.

Red and lace. It’s all he sees. It sitting there, against you, hugging your breasts—sitting on your hips. His mouth is suddenly dry at the thought of running his tongue over the place it meets your skin before pulling it down.

Your fingers follow his eyes, sliding between the valley to land on the bow in the centre, twisting the edge of the tie around your index finger—palm skating over your stomach, allowing him more chance to take in how you’re stood before him in see-through fabric and promises.

“How’d I get so lucky?” he asks, more to no one, than to you.

His fingers teasing the fabric sat on your hip—marvelling, unsure how to think straight until you clear your throat, forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Hey,” you whisper, tightening your hold on his hands, bringing his arms more around your waist, pressing your front to him, feeling the heat from your skin through your clothes. “You’re all I wished for too.”

Smiling, he looks at your tree, before landing back on you. “You look so good.”

“I know. Could look better though?” His brow arches as you slowly begin to smile, the tip of your tongue sliding over your upper lip. “Everything is held in place by bows.”

Groaning, he closes his eyes, letting his hand slide down your lower back, over sheer material before his fingers find the ribbon on your hip.

“All for you.”

“Mine,” he answers, slotting his mouth over yours—staining the four letters to your lips.

His fingers slide around, brushing over soft skin, until he finds the first bow. Undoing it with ease, licking into your mouth, only to grunt against you when you whimper as the fabric falls to your feet.

“Yours,” you say back, your own hands beginning to undo him.

an: merry christmas, love you

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chrissturnsgirlll222 · 4 months

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second, never first

part one | part two | part three | part four

chris x fem!reader

summary - you grew up hating one guy all of high school but suddenly become close friends, but as time goes on feelings develop, only its one sided.

warnings - underage drinking, throwing up, use of y/n, BOYS (no smut… for now lol and yes i am 18) currently not proofread or written with pristine punctuation

word count - 2500+?? (i know its long but i had a bunch of ideas for the beginning)

this is also my first story so pls be kind :) also just wanted to mention that i wouldn’t have the courage to write and post if it werent for other writers on this app so i would just like to tag and thank a few accounts who inspired me to write<3

@lovingmattysposts @flowerxbunnie @strniohoeee @lacysturniolo @strawberrysturniolo @flynnriderishot @stuniolobbg

for as long as i could remember, being the second option was all i knew. just always being the backup, never the go to.

this constant course of events led to my passion of reading and writing, pretty much consuming myself with content or sources that provided me with a sense of belonging, or just putting myself into a different reality.

i always had been drawn to romance. its a un-comforting comfort for me, if that makes sense. i love reading about it and watching movies about it but love just seemed so out of reach. im sure many people feel this way but i just believe there are certain people in the world that just go through life without any sort of romantic experiences. now while that may be true i also think thats just something i made up in my head to comfort myself from the fact that i have never had a single romantic experience, ever. i mean im 17 years old and havent even had my first kiss. hell i havent even held hands with a boy.

that of course all changed during my senior year.

“oh my god look at what cody sent me” anna says.

anna is my best friend, though at times she felt like my biggest competition. she is everything im not. constantly talking to boys, what people consider ‘boy pretty’, very out going and popular. the fun one.

i look over at her phone to see a text from one of the many boys shes talked to in the past year “i thought you guys were done?” i say

“yeah were not talking like that anymore but i still talk to him here and there” she says

“i dont know if thats the best idea, i mean if you guys keep talking hes probably going to get the wrong impression”

“your such a buzz kill sometimes” she says slightly annoyed. i stay silent. I might sound like a complete bitch here but when your friend is constantly talking or complaining about guy, a, b and c you eventually get bored and exhausted of hearing about it, I try my hardest to be understanding when she brings up guys, but I’m apparently never supportive enough to her standards. I suppose she wants me to be there and give her advice but what do I have to offer to that conversation?

we were driving through the school parking lot to park in our usual spot next to chris.

chris is, well complicated. ive known him since 7th grade and hated him up until about 3 months ago when senior year started. the friendship started off with him just parking next to my car everyday and him just pestering me all the time but the longer we kept parking together, the more we grew to enjoy our casual conversations.

we both roll down our windows.

“morning” i say waving at him, anna does the same “hey, i wanna skip first block if you guys are down” he says “you know i would never say to to that” anna says “ehh i dont know about today i have a bio project i need to work on and didnt getting the planning sheet so i should probably head in” i say

“alright, anna come on i wanna get mcdonalds” chris says tapping on his passenger seat.

“looks like its just us this morning! y/n me and chris can just go get food and ill bring you back something for lunch” anna says turning to me.

“ill see you guys at lunch” i say grabbing my bag and locking my car doors as anna gets in to chris’ car and they drive off.

if you havent caught the weird passive tone from anna, thats how she was. no matter how much i tried she always had to be the centre of attention . i honestly dont even think she does it on purpose. i love her and she is my best friend but i just find her insufferable at times, its just who she is. chris is a great friend to me but i always caught the vibe that chris liked anna or at least thought she was hot. which is also why i think he treats her with more respect than me.

now when i said we grew to like eachother i left out a slight detail.

even though i hated chris for most of high school for the way he treated me and constantly teased me, i couldnt help myself from starring at him from time to time as he talked or even looking at his hands. not only was he visually pleasing he could be really sweet and the conversations we shared were really meaningful at times. was he attractive, yes. was he a complete asshole to me for years and still hasnt apologized, yes. did i completely fall head over heels for him when he began to show me his nice side, sadly yes.

its so cliche but i fell for my “bully” so to speak. i hated myself for it but what i hated even more was how much i let my feelings for him effect how i saw myself even more as the second option. if it came down to it and me anna and him were the only people in the world he would still fuck anna before he even though about kissing me.

i know that i might only feel this way towards him simply because hes the only male thats shown me any attention at all. though it hasnt always been positive or romantic it was still something that i had never experienced from a male before.

like i said, second option.

i finish up my final class and head out to my car and wait for anna who is doing god knows what considering i drive her home everyday after school. while waiting for anna, chris gets into his car and starts it to heat up as it is the beginning of winter. i watch what hes doing through his car window as he scrolls on his phone for a sec and then storms into the backseat of my car, always the backseat.

my head whips around to look at him and he looks annoyed. “why do you look mad” i say. “look at what this bitch said to me” he says leaning up to the middle console shoving his phone in my face and i read texts from a girl hes talking to.

friday 3:14pm

alice: chris i cant keep talking to you

chris: what do you mean

alice: i mean that i cant keep talking to you what were doing is messing with my head and i dont want to be a victim of one of your fuck and dumps

chris: im sure i have many other girls who would kill to be in your position

alice: then go have them i dont want to be apart of your sick and twisted hookups

“ok wow” i say my eyes wide “i didnt even know you were talking to alice”

“well now you do, and im not anymore apparently” he says throwing his arms up as he sinks in to the middle seat. “we have been fucking since the halloween party, remember when i kissed her infront of you?” he says in a duh tone.

ah yes halloween. the night i went home crying after said kiss was shared infront of my face.

“yes i remember” i say blankly.

“we were supposed to hangout tonight but she decided to blow me off, i was ready to get my dick wet but i guess ill just have to be fucking boring alone” he says as i make a disgusted face.

“well i dont know what to te-“ i was cut off by anna coming into the car.

“ok sorry i took so long but i was just getting the details for a party tonight!” she says out of breath. chris sits up at the news, “maybe i will get my dick wet then.” he says smirking and jokingly raising his eyebrows.

“what? alice blew you off already.” anna says turning to chris. i dont bother questioning why anna knew and i didnt because im sure i know answer.

“yep and im scoring tonight.” he says fake punching the air as me and anna giggle.

anna and i finished getting ready at her place, her wearing jeans and a hot pink tank top and me in black jeans and a white long sleeve crop top. i stare at myself in the mirror when i hear annas phone go off with a text from chris.

friday 10:27pm

chris: here

“anna! chris is here!” i yell grabbing my phone and my drinks for the night from my bag and start making my way downstairs as i hear her close behind me. i tie up my shoes as i hear her grab her drinks from her fridge and say bye her parents. i wave goodbye to her parents as well and we make our way out to chris’ car.

upon entering were greeted by matt, chris’ brother in the passenger seat.

“hey matt i didnt know you were coming out tonight!” i say smiling at him as loud music blasts from chris’ speakers.

“yeah nicks also going so i just tagged along, plus i need to drive you guys home since chris is drinking tonight.” he says lightly punching chris in the arm. “oh yeah, speaking of nick where is he?” i say. “nicks already there he came with his friends.” i nod in response and sit back starting to chug down one of my drinks. i may be a buzz kill in annas eyes but i knew how to party and loved drinking with my friends.

matt is chris’ triplet brother along with nick. i never really got to know his brothers all that well, i just know that matt has become a lot more comfortable around me and anna as we have started to spend more time with chris.

once we arrive to the party me and anna walk around to see whos there and we meet up with some of our other friends. i can see chris from across the room laughing and talking to nick and matt.

the night goes on and i finish my fourth cooler of the night and head out to the car to grab another. when i step outside the cool air hits me and i instantly regret the 2 shots of tequila i had on top of the fruity coolers i had throughout the night. shivering and rubbing my arms i continue walking to chris’ car to sit down for a sec and when i reach the backseat i see chris’ naked back and steamy windows. i take a step back once i realize whats happening.

i knew he was going to end up fucking someone tonight since thats what he said his plan was but i did not need to fucking see it. hes not mine for the taking obviously, but seeing him constantly with girls just hurt.

i turn around to walk back into the house but suddenly feel sick to my stomach. i hunch over and throw up in the middle of the road. i cough and collapse to my knees continuing to gag as strings of spit come out of my mouth. i hear a car door shut behind me as i try to stand up wiping my mouth. i feel arms grab my waist and pick me up bridal style and thats the last thing i remember before everything went black.

i wake up in a car with the same clothes on from the party, still drunk, my hair crispy and the smell of cologne. i look around me and realize its chris’ backseat im laying in but its still pitch black out.

i hear faint voices outside and the door my head is resting on swings open and my head flys back.

“holy shit chris are you trying to kill her” i hear matts voice. “shut up, i didn’t know you put her head there.” chris says as he starts pulling me out of the car.

“chris” i say quietly. “holy shit your awake” he says leaving me to sit up. “yeah i am, what happened. i think i- blacked out.” i say slurring my words.

“well i was in the middle of getting with summer-“ he says getting on his knees to talk to me better “and i just heard gagging outside the car and it was bothering me and i looked outside the car and you were bent over on the middle of the road throwing up. i just grabbed you and told summer to fuck off and put you in the car while i grabbed matt and anna.”

“oh my god” i say as i nod off.

“woah woah stay with us here, chris lets get her inside now” matt says placing my head back up.

“where is anna?” i question.

“we had to drop her home and bring you to our house since she said her parents couldn’t see you like this.”

“of course” i say

classic anna.

“what time is it?” i ask rubbing my eyes.

“2:44am” chris grunts taking me out of the car.

“ok lets get you inside” chris says pulling me up to stand. “you think you can walk inside?” he says still holding me up. “ill try.”

he lets go of me and i slowly make it up to the front of their house but start wobbling once i reach the steps and feel both matt and chris grab either side of me and help me up to the front door. matt holds on to my arm as he uses the house key to get inside and i walk in.

they walk me over to the living room couch and i slump over resting my head on the arm rest of the couch.

“where is she going to sleep?” matt says. “my room obviously.” chris says as i smile to myself.

“come on y/n” he says picking me up again and bringing me to his room to lay on his bed. “im gonna give you clothes to change into since yours are covered in vomit.” he says opening drawers. i nod my head as my eyes close.

he tosses me a big white shirt with some graphic designing on it “can you dress yourself or-“ i cut him off “yea- yeah i got it” i say sitting up right and hiccup.

he turns around so i can change into the shirt. i begin taking my long sleeve off and i get one arm off before i get stuck. “chris, help” i say quietly and he turns around to see me with my arms slouched and my eyes closed. he rushes over “lift up your arms” he says pulling my hands up. i hold them up as he grabs the hem of my shirt and slowly pulls up. i admire chris as he pulls off the shirt completely throwing my shirt across the room all while being careful not to look at me.

he grabs his shirt and places it gently over my head and then threading my arms through the shirt. “wait” he says walking over to his closet, grabbing a pair of his sweatpants and walking over to me with them. i sit there with my eyes closed smiling as i had thought about the scenario of him taking my clothes off many times, just not the me being so drunk i cant dress myself part.

he takes my jeans off and helps me in to his sweatpants still being respectful and not starring at my body. “ill be right back just sit here im going to get you water and an advil.” he say as he walks out of the room. i just sit there, my eyes still closed, still smiling and nod at his sentence.

i lay back down on his bed and wait as i hear him rushing upstairs talking to matt and nick before walking back in to the room sitting down at the end of his bed. “sit snd open up.” i obliged to his words before he places two advils on my tongue.

“im going to fill up your mouth with water so don’t breathe.” he says opening up a water bottle and slowly pouring some in to my mouth while my head tilts upwards slightly. he watches me with concern as i swallow the water.

“please never get drunk like this ever again, you really freaked everyone out kid.” he says. i don’t respond and nod at his words.

kid, the all too familiar nickname chris gave me. it always made me feel weird when he called me this as if he was an authority figure or something.

i lay back down on his bed and close my eyes and quickly drift off to sleep. the last thing i remember from that night is him crawling in to his bed next to me and turning off his light.

“goodnight kid”

thank you for reading!!!

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo edit #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x y/n

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xxcallmemaryxx · 13 days

Text

IV x GN reader

IV with a little bit of separation anxiety... he just can't keep his hands off you...

He was good at keeping it together. At first anyway… when the two of you were still getting used to each other and adjusting to being together. Nights spent with him in your bed unable to keep your hands off each other, that bled into mornings with him wrapped around you as you sort some kind of breakfast out for you both. It was magical and amazing and kept a goofy smile plastered permanently on your lips.

But there was downtime too. When he went home for a few nights. When you both needed to prioritise work for a little while. When he went away for tour and was out and about exploring the world and making unreal memories for thousands of people every night. Texts and phone calls became your usual and it was fine. You missed each other, of course, but ultimately it was doable.

Until he changed.

The time you’d each spend at your own houses without the other became shorter and shorter as the months went on. IV making himself very comfortable within the walls of your home, it was nice to see honestly. Knowing he felt welcomed and relaxed here was a good feeling. But then when it came time for him to go back home, he’d somehow always manage to convince you to pack a bag and stay with him for a few days then too.

How could you ever say no to him?

Eventually, if it came time for you to go back home again for whatever reason. He’d try everything he could to convince you to stay longer. Swearing he doesn’t mind and he wants you with him. He enjoys your presence and how warm his bed is every morning that he wakes up with you in it.

He pouts when he realises he needs to let you leave. But tells you he’ll be seeing you again in a few days time, leaving no room for argument.

You found it endearing honestly. This beautiful man who loves to spend his time with you. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t flattered, the temptation to just stay with him everyday was very present. But you’d never get anything done if that was the case. He’s very good at keeping you buried underneath his blankets all day.

He learnt very quickly ways that he could keep you close. Keep you around for longer. Just one more night, that turned into two more nights, that then turned into him convincing you to just stay for the rest of the week and go back home after the weekend.

“We didn’t end up finishing that show we started… stay tonight and we’ll finish it.”

Spoiler: you don’t finish it that night either. Which IV made sure of.

“Wait, I wanted to cook that one dish for you… we completely forgot about it. Stay tonight, we can go shopping for the stuff tomorrow and then I’ll make it for dinner for us tomorrow…”

Spoiler: he starts dinner kind of late and oh! Look at the time! You might as well just stay again tonight.

“Oh you should go home? But it’s Friday… just stay for the weekend and I’ll take you home on Sunday night.”

Spoiler: Sunday night rolls around and guess what…

“You have work in the morning? Well, if you stay tonight I’ll drive you in. You won’t have to wake up as early if I take you…”

Spoiler: guess who opts to pick you up from work that afternoon. And oh look at that… you’re back at his house again that night too.

He begins to run out of ideas though, he can only “forget” to do so many things with you while you’re staying with him. And the panic sets in when he sees you starting to get your stuff together and he can’t think of anything to get you to stay again.

He knows he has to deal with it. He can’t force you to stay. He wants you to come back. He wants you to want him to come back to your house, and if giving you time on your own is what you need then he’ll give it to you.

But when he comes back home to a quiet, empty house… he can’t help the tightness that grows in his chest. He locks up for the night and makes his way to bed. The sheets still a mess, just how the two of you left them earlier that day. And his throat constricts when he crawls back underneath them alone. It’s cold. It’s quiet. It’s dark in there. He grabs the pillow you slept on, hugging it into his chest and curling himself around it. He closes his eyes and pretends it’s you he’s curled around instead. Burying his face into it and breathing in, he can still smell you on it. He huffs and reaches for his phone, already typing out the words ‘I miss you’ before he even double checks who he’s sending it too. And he lays awake all night, long after you’ve said your goodnights, feeling just… off. He feels weird. He’s unsettled and he’s tense and he just can’t rid the pit that’s sat steady in his stomach since he got home.

It gets worse though.

You notice after a while that he cannot for the life of him keep his hands off you. Constantly holding yours. Constantly holding your hips. Constantly resting on your legs when he pulls them onto his lap. (Which is always, if he’s not already snuggled up behind you on the couch.) You’ve caught him a few times with your hands in his, playing with your fingers, massaging your knuckles, running his fingers over the back of your hand. Or kneading the meat of your thighs between his hands absentmindedly. Not even trying to suggest anything, not trying to get you worked up, but genuinely just content because his hands are on you.

Do you think you can enter another room on your own? Wrong. You can’t.

Because IV will follow you through the house, around every room and back again.

The washing machine is done? You need to go hang out clothes? IV’s hand is in yours and you’re walking to the laundry together.

Oh you’re hungry? Need to start on dinner? IV is snuggled against your back as you get stuff ready the whole time.

Sitting down to eat dinner together, and you dare sit opposite him? He’s playing footsie with you underneath the table. Which will turn into him grabbing your foot and planting it on his lap so he can keep his hand on your ankle the whole time.

Is he naturally just a touchy feely person? Yes. Yes he is.

But just the thought alone of having to go days without you around drives him nuts. He can’t do it. He feels sick. He can’t sleep. He can barely eat. He needs your presence to function.

He ponders the thought of driving to your house, packing all your stuff and moving you into his house more often than he’d be willing to admit. You’re with him enough as it is already. You might as well just stay forever right?

MASSIVE CREDITS TO MY POOKIE @ghostlygothicgay !!!!

He gave me this idea, and then we ran rampant with it in our messages.

if you're an IV whore like me, give him a follow, he's so fun to talk too!!!

#sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token x reader #sleep token iv #iv sleep token #sleep token iv x reader #iv sleep token x reader #Mary's headcannons

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skyeslittlecorner · 4 months

Note

can you post some photos on chapter five? ive been struggling to get to it and im impatient if ykwim 😭😭

Don't worry anon, I got you covered! Let's break this chapter for three parts - one for story and for one for both H-scenes. There are a lot of things to look forward to~

Warning: HEAVY SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT. In fact, I'll try to shorten the whole thing and focus on plot-relevant facts, so for those who want to go through chapter 5 on their own, come back when you're done! (Or just skip to h-scene, they are marked.)

Ch5 - STORY

First, I would like to warn that my opinion about it may be unpopular. As someone who hadn't paid much attention to Hades before, I fell in love with it after this episode. I adore ch5. A lot of people hate these boys to the core for what they did, and I understand and respect their opinion, but I'm with Hades here. I would love to analyze their behavior in more detail, but we don't have time for that today.

Summarizing this chapter is going to be hard because a lot of things happened. Let's go!

We start by going down a slide sponsored by Leviathan and his Lovecraftian friends (TM). But worry not! It seems we have friends even in the realm of death. Say hello to grandpa!

We talk a little, being in a questionable mood. Well, who wouldn't be? But we have the opportunity to know Solomon better, and I'm getting to understand why all devils love him. By the way, it turns out that we are his last descendant.

Sorry Solomon, you're still a peepaw.

He also advises us not to be afraid of Leviathan and not to be submissive to him, and then in a brilliant way he sends us back to the world of the living. Of course, our beautiful king is delighted.

We take Grandpa's advice to heart and finally stand up to Levi. He's surprised, but he doesn't try to kill us again (for now). We witness him hanging one of his subjects, who dared to ask about an accident from 311 years ago.

Fun fact. Devils must have much stronger spines. Do you know how people used to die by hanging? The first methods involved cutting off oxygen, but later they involved into breaking the cervical spine and this was considered a standard hanging execution. Leviathan must be gentle (how bad it sounds in this context), he could kill instantly with a loop like that.

Back to the point. We find out that we also have a noose around our neck, and Leviathan makes use of it. We're hanging, but we finally begin to meet Leviathan's nobles one by one.

Glasyal plots (and ends up hanging for it), Foras argues with him, along the way we learn that Leviathan needs us in his plan, and, you know, maybe killing us isn't the smartest thing he can do. Only Barbatos realizes that maybe it's a good idea to stop hanging us like wet laundry. He's the only one so openly nice to us.

Remember that.

Another fun fact, our MC is of medium height (~160 cm I guess). Leviathan is 187cm, Foras should be similar. I only noticed this because I myself am 180 cm so they are not so strappingly tall for me.

Foras wants to take us away from Levi and explain everything calmly, but the king does not agree. We learn that the guys know where the seed from the Tree of Knowledge is. We're supposed to go with them, and we have about a 50/50 chance of survival. Also, we have the opportunity to see a very rare phenomenon, a joking Leviathan.

Sweetie.

Colossally shortening the rest, the cavalry arrives! You didn't have to. I haven't had time to fuck them yet.

And this cavalry is very much at odds with the nobles of Hades. Most of the time is them arguing. Fortunately, they didn't kill each other…

...because Barbie decided to kill us.

Barbatos is poisoning us to force Bimet and Valefor to join the plan. While we are unconscious, we have flashes of Leviathan's past, which is too sad to analyze considering that we are about to jump to hot scenes now. Besides, most of us already know what this is about. Experience it for yourself. Really. We also learn that not only angels experimented on children, and a little about Mammon's childhood.

In the end, we learn that in Ch6 we must visit the abandoned laboratory in Tartaros, where the seed from the tree of knowledge should be, because as Solomon's descendants, we may be the only ones who will not be killed by it.

Ch5 - VALEFOR H-SCENE

(I really wanted to post CG from Valefor's scene here, but I don't know if Tumblr will block it.)

TIME FOR DESSERT!

Bimet is the first to realize that we lack devil energy. He wants to take care of it, but Valefor brushes him off, sends him to scout, and overall Bimet is our wingman, what a bro lol

Since we are away from Satan and Gehenna, we cannot summon Minhyeok's room. MC thinks she's outgrown it anyway. So we can count on the next scenes to be more and more creative.

It all starts with us telling Valefor that he reminds us of Mammon. And what a beast it brings out of him.

And he loves it.

...aaand then, someone wants to interrupt. Bimet informs us about this and goes to chase them out. Valefor stands with us at the door to see if anyone else is coming. Yes. Naked. With us. In us.

Fortunately, no one catches us and after the entire session we fall asleep in our knight's arms.

I really would like to do more screenshots, but tumblr is blocked… and there's one more part to come.

Ch5 - LEVIATHAN H-SCENE

At least you look beautiful and the platform won't block you.

And here's what I love the most. It was sick. I'd love to experience it again.

I would love to make a whole post ONLY about this and just leave the screenshots.

We are in Leviathan's office, and he interrogates us when we feel like we are lacking devil energy. We want to go to Bimet, but do you think our jealous king will allow it? Oh no no no. And of course, his hands land on our chin and then our neck. He doesn't like our hickeys.

We start asking him valid questions like "why are you jealous of us if you hate us?" So he silences us with a kiss. A deep, suffocating kiss. This is also how Leviathan discovers that we gain their energy through "intercourse with the devil".

And how can I not fall in love with this idiot.

The conversation that follows gives us some light on his approach to sex and to relationships in general. Which is… sad. It fits him perfectly, but it's sad. And I would also like to analyze this someday, this character is beautiful and how he's written is even more beautiful, especially from writer's point of view. He does not want the admiration of his people or the hatred of angels. The only thing he can believe and consider to be sincere is that someone's dislike. This is something that might actually turn him on.

At first he rules, he asks questions and he hangs us. And he does everything he can to piss us off. He hands us a whip and lowers us down.

Just disliking him isn't enough, and he works diligently to make us hate him. He insults Minhyeok, us, wishes us dead, and the more he sees our anger, the more he gets excited and talks more. He knows that we are connected to Satan and we will know how to release our anger. On him.

He finally got what he wanted. We straddle him and, with the help of Satan's strength, begin to strangle him. Neither you nor he are gentle.

Also, his words (unfortunately, I already have a limit on screenshots). "Do not bite your lips. Bite mine instead." I beg, let me violate him even more.

Compliment from Leviathan, nice. In the end, we fall asleep cuddled up to him, and he has no intention of giving us up to anyone. As in the case of Sitri, he only opens up to us when we are so unconscious that we do not see his softer side.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

AND THATS ALL! What a ride it was, I hope I was a good guide. One day I will go into the Hades boys in more depth, but for now, let this be a shortcut for everyone who is still struggling with ch5.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb leviathan #whb foras #whb glasyalabolas #whb barbatos #whb bimet #whb valefor #whb spoiler

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

Text

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (part 36)

Tw: medical stuff, needles

This chapter is just flexing how Yves is this barbie character who had done all the jobs

Part 37

You twiddle your fingers as you wait for Yves to come back. He told you that his souvenirs were in his car, so he had to collect them.

Yves left his handbag next to you. He only took his keys with him.

Your fingers twitched as you fought back the urge to go through his items again, wondering what else he had packed after coming back from his trip. It looks slightly bigger than the previous one.

In the end, you decided not to. Instead, you went for your phone and skimmed through your notifications. Most of which are from nosy acquaintances asking you about what happened. They must have known it was you, because no one else wanted to associate themselves with Evangeline.

You frowned. It reminded you of the horrific incident and the fact that you didn't have a lot of real friends.

Yves's words during the first few days interacting with him stuck in your head, he told you that you tend to pull away when someone begins to reciprocate your willingness to form a bond; as a form of self protection. Well, you tried not doing that with Evangeline, look where it got you.

You reflected some more.

But then, you did lean into Yves's affection, albeit reluctantly at first. It earned you a beautiful, wealthy and caring boyfriend.

You took a deep breath and sighed. Looks like it depends on luck then. Is there really no way to discern whether a person will turn out to be another Yves or Evangeline? You still wanted friends as you belong to a social species after all, and you need to build up your contacts for the future of your career.

Perhaps you could use Yves as a litmus test. His instincts were right with the blonde, it would be very likely he could tell if someone is good for you or not.

But it left a bad taste in your mouth thinking that you have to rely on him for something as seemingly trivial as this. Are you really that hopeless? Do you really need your boyfriend to decide who you should hang out with?

You don't even know who his friends are! He must have loads, he's an older man with tonnes of experience, unlike a fresh-out-the-womb 20-something struggling with homework. This doesn't seem very fair, isn't it?

You need to find an appropriate time to bring this up to him. It wouldn't be nice if you were to ask him about it while you're opening his imported gifts.

The door opening caught your attention. It's your nurse. She gave you a polite yet tired smile and told you that she was going to prepare your next dose of IV antibiotics.

You watched her flutter around the dressing trolley, following proper procedures as she worked her way around glass vials and numerous needles. God knows what powder or liquid was she working with, but you just knew her pace was fast, rushed, even. Of course, she must have done this more times than you can count, you put your full trust into this nurse of yours.

She hung the infusion bag onto the metal stand. You were so invested in her movements that you didn't notice the door opened and someone else entered your room.

She was about to flush your cannula with saline, bringing the syringe onto the opening but suddenly a familiar, well-manicured hand shot out to restrain her wrist, preventing the professional from proceeding further. The pressure applied to her joint must be quite high, as she winced at the slender fingers digging into her gloved flesh.

You and her snapped your neck to Yves, who had a wide-eyed glower directed at your nurse.

"Careless." He spat, glaring daggers at your medical caretaker.

You looked at the setup. Everything seems fine to you, and you were embarrassed that Yves overreacted. What does he know about these? He's a mathematician, not a medical doctor. Yves ignored the uncomfortable expression on your face and continued scrutinizing the nurse under his dour stare.

His harsh comment made her recheck her work, from the contents of the syringe to the state of the tubing. She jolted in shock at her errors and sputtered apologies, she asked if Yves could let her go so that she could correct her mistakes.

"No. Fetch me your supervisor." Yves was undeniably stern, you even felt prosecuted despite his words not being directed towards you.

She wordlessly nodded, only then did Yves let her go. She scurried out of the room, leaving you and Yves alone.

Yves sanitized his hands, using the pump bottle of rubbing alcohol from the metal trolley. You were alarmed when he went ahead to reclamp your cannula himself.

You voiced your concerns over his actions, nervously eyeing when he took an alcohol wipe without prior permission to disinfect the opening. Was what she did so terrible, that Yves has to leave her to the brink of tears?

"Her negligence would have killed you, (name)." Yves nonchalantly stated as he disposed of the wrapper and wipes into a biohazardous waste bin.

You asked how so.

He lifted up the syringe that was about to inject sterile fluids into your cannula.

"Air bubbles." You saw that there was a small gap between the mouth and the liquid surface.

Yves sets it down back onto its tray, crossing his arms before turning his attention to the tubing. It's resting on the floor. "Contamination."

Yves picked it up and brought it nearer to your face, tracing his finger along it to show you the numerous air bubbles in the line. "Failure to prime."

He dropped it back onto the floor. Yves shook his head in disapproval when he looked at the label plastered onto the IV bag. "Wrong medication. It's a wonder how she managed to even step foot into a healthcare institution as anything other than a patient."

Yves tucked stray strands of his hair behind his ear. He stared at your astonished face, he knew you had a plethora of questions that you wanted to ask him. But all he did was smile before planting a kiss on your forehead, ruining his previous cleanup as there was a clear lipstick print on your otherwise clean forehead.

That was kiss number 48. You missed how the corners of his lips twitched downwards momentarily, Yves needs to control himself more. He wouldn't want you to be sick of him again so soon.

You had your attention on the door when a knock was heard. The door opens and a head poked in, someone who you didn't recognize. You assume that it's the Nurse's manager.

"Mr. Yves...?" She called.

Your boyfriend affectionately cups your face, staring into your eyes for a bit, as if silently telling you that he will be back later. He let you go and took his handbag with him, he didn't say a word until the door was closed.

Yves came back a while later, surprising you with his hair neatly tied into a bun.

"Hello again, beloved." He greeted you, placing his bag onto a chair. Yves rolled up his sleeves, revealing his sculpted forearms with old scars and washed his hands using the sink and soap dispenser installed in your room. You noted that he took his time doing so.

He dried it properly with the paper towels provided.

"I will be your attending nurse today." He threw the damp towel into the trashbin. Yves then disinfected his hands one more time using the rubbing alcohol from the dressing trolley. "...and tomorrow."

You thought and prayed hard that it was a joke. But it was clear it wasn't, when he began preparing your IV antibiotic drip like how the nurse did it, except he's doing it much more fluidly and confidently. There were steps that you didn't remember her doing, but his dexterity in utilizing the syringes, mixing the drug and even removing the packages was immaculate.

"...and the day after that." He continued, removing the previous infusion bag from the IV stand. Yves replaced it with a newly prepared packet. "...Until I deem you healthy enough to be discharged."

Your eyes were trained on his fingers, which are toggling with the roller clamp. Your eyes darted everywhere as he pierced, pinch and twist as needed. He never once spared a glance at your increasingly agitated state.

You told him only the doctor can make this decision for you.

He chuckled as if you told him something funny. "Then, I will be your attending doctor as well." Yves went ahead and flicked the tubing thoroughly until there were no air bubbles left. He then tucked it safely onto the clamp, ensuring that it didn't touch anywhere else.

You looked around, is there no one to stop him? Is this even allowed?

He disinfected his hands one more time with rubbing alcohol. You asked why he isn't using a pair of gloves.

"Gloves... used in administering Intravenous Infusions like this are mainly to protect the medical personnel from infection." Said Yves as he cleaned the cannula opening with an alcohol wipe. "I am not handling anyone else and the ones they're providing are non-sterile. I might as well use my bare, thoroughly disinfected hands."

Yves unclamped your cannula. "My skin is intact." He continued, flicking the syringe filled with sterile fluid and pushing the piston up to expel any fatal air bubbles. "I practiced proper hand hygiene. There is no risk of contamination." He assured.

Before you could protest, Yves already flushed the tube to ensure it was patent. You kept your mouth shut, hoping that he truly knows what he is doing and not sending you to an early grave.

You squeezed your eyes shut and let him do his magic. There was a sudden beep from the heart monitor next to you.

"(name)."

You turned to look at him. He looked at you with softened eyes.

"I know what I am doing."

Only after that, you realize your laborious breathing. There was something in his voice that calmed you down, enough to show your heart rate has slowed to a normal resting speed.

He completed the administration, taping the tube and cannula to your wrist using surgical tape.

You watched him adjust the drip rate, double-checking his work before cleaning everything up.

You were dumbfounded. Who is Yves? A wealthy mathematic researcher, who was once an attorney, lecturer, perhaps even a parole officer and now, an ex qualified Nurse and doctor?

He rolled his sleeves back down after drying his skin. Yves then took his time to write something down on a logbook that's strangely empty save for your name and details. He scribbled the name of your antibiotic, dose and signature.

He closed it and kept it away. Yves turned to you and caressed your cheek.

"Yes, my love?" He responded to your incessant staring. Yves sat on the edge of your bed as he began playing with your hair.

You have too many questions, they all tried coming out but it's jammed in your mind. So you sealed your lips and shook your head, dismissing his attention.

He smiled, giving you another on the forehead.

That was kiss #49.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader

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anxious-lee · 5 months

Text

A Sudden Diversion - A Lackadaisy Tickle Fic

Lee: Freckle

Lers: Ivy and Rocky

----

Evidently, plowing an automobile through several thickets and insisting it is a "short-cut" is dangerous.

This may have been a revelation to Rocky, but Freckle could have told him that from the beginning. In fact, he tried.

Yet, here they were: in the Lackadaisy's cluttered garage, mending the battering inflicted on their poor vehicle. The car was nicked and scratched from the shrubbery, not unlike its occupants. The engine compartment would have been just fine had the frenzied tom Rocky not rammed it into a tree's trunk. All in all, the damages were unnecessary and very expensive. To say that Miss Mitzi was peeved at the three stooges would be an understatement. Due to the speakeasy's lack of adequate funds, the car's repairs would need to be done by Rocky, Ivy, and Freckle, as reparations for ruining the car in the first place. Freckle supposed that being placed on mechanic duty wasn't the worst punishment Miss Mitzi could have dealt. Although, if anyone should have to be saddled with this chore, it should be Rocky. He's the one who made the mess in the first place.

But, perhaps it was for the best. It was safer in the garage than it was out there on the liquor-lined battlefield.

All three colleagues sat, working away silently. Or rather, almost silently, as Rocky could only take the deafening quiet for so long before he broke out into a hum. Some tune that neither Freckle nor Ives recognized. The musician himself was made useful by patching up the old paint job, while the two lovers dug through their toolbox, looking for the appropriate equipment to repair the engine.

Freckle had seen plenty of danger in his lifetime with his cousin. Hell, toughing through peril was practically his best trait as an officer in training. But each adventure wore down a little bit more of his psyche. And some nights, like tonight, there was nothing left to wear.

He was exhausted, both from the team's little excursion and the mental power it took not to have a panic attack.

Ivy, who sat at his right, learned over time to recognize these feelings through observation. Because odds were, Freckle wouldn't say it directly. She could pretty much discern and dissect every Freckle frown.

She was gonna make him smile.

She began with a little smirk of her own.

"Car maintenance isn't the peachiest job in the world, but at least we get some quality time together," Ivy said, batting her eyelids.

Brought out of his daze by the sudden sound of her voice, Freckle glanced up at Ivy quickly. He couldn't help but smile sheepishly at her flirtatious remarks.

But Ivy wasn't going to stop there.

"Y'know, I hardly ever get to witness you in your element. Tinkering away with your gadgets, and gizmos, and... whosiwhatsits, " she finished with a flippant backhand toward the toolbox.

Freckle seemed bashful to turn bashful at that.

"Oh. I'm no professional. My mum taught me everything I know, and when it became just me and her in that house, I had to step in and help with the maintenance. If I'm being honest, I'm more familiar with the back-end of a kitchen sink than I am with motor vehicle repair," he cringed.

"Relentlessly humble, as always," Rocky piped in suddenly, "Ol' Freckle Face never could take a compliment, however deserved or warranted."

"Yeah! C'mon McMurray, you're doing most of the heavy lifting here! Little did Miss M. know that when she hired a gunman, she also hired a handyman," said Ivy.

The extra attention was getting to Freckle, so much so that he hadn't noticed when his cheeks began to burn hot.

"It's really not a big deal-"

"I'll say it is, and no take-backsies!" Ivy declared. For emphasis, she burrowed a single claw into his armpit.

Freckle tittered softly and tilted his body away from his attacker.

"Kheehehe, quit it," he near-whispered.

"What will you do if I dont?" Ivy dared playfully.

What to answer with, Freckle hadn't the faintest. His upturned mouth opened and shut a few times, hoping that the perfect reasoning would spring from his lips at any moment. Finally, he spoke.

"We're not gohonna finish our wohork," he retorted lamely.

"Oh yeah? Is that what it is you're scared of? The job?" purred Ivy. She once again buried her pointer claw into the crook of his underarm. It took some more digging than the first time due to Freckle's attempts to keep his arm flat against his side. When she settled into her target, she scritched everywhere she could reach.

"Yehes!" Freckle said, much louder and desperate than he intended. He was squirming a little more now, bent in a seventy-degree angle, but still holding down his position. The first giggle, he couldn't control. The second, third, and fourth, however, he was determined to swallow down. His lips pressed into a wobbly smile, hoping that if he didn't laugh, she wouldn't continue.

That only made her tickle harder.

"You trying to hold it in? Good luck, 'cause my little brothers tried the same trick, and it did not last long," warned Ivy.

And it was true. Before long, his firmly shut lips did nothing to prevent his giggles from escaping. They sounded more like pleaful whimpers.

It wasn't that Freckle hated her little games, but succumbing to something so childish as tickling was easier said than done. Not to mention the fact that they were in public, where any one of the speakeasy's employees could walk in on them.

Within a matter of seconds, Ivy brought both claws into both armpits and was tickling away.

Freckle gave a laugh of surprise, a notch louder than before. He knew there was no fighting her now. The tingly electricity on both sides of his body overtook him, and he slid to the floor, with his back pressed against it. Ivy followed, now hooked by his incredible laughter.

"You crazy kids ought to keep your hands off of each other. Otherwise, people might get the idea that you two are les amoureux," Rocky called from his place at the car, voice shining with sarcasm. He was watching them now and smirking unsympathetically at his troubled cousin.

"We are les amoureux, Rocky," Ivy called back.

For some reason, Ivy holding a conversation with Rocky while Freckle was underneath her laughing pitifully was making the sensation worse. As his face burned brighter, Freckle turned his head away from her in an attempt to save himself the embarrassment of having her look upon his cheesy face.

"Awh~! Poor boy is embarrassed!" Ivy cooed, taking one hand away from his arm and cupping his cheek with it, pulling his face back to her.

"You are practically burning up!" she gasped, "Are you blushing~?"

The saints above could not help poor Freckle now.

He didn't grace that question with an answer and instead whined through his laughter. This could not get more humiliating.

"I missed that big smile! And that laugh. I love it when you laugh. It's so cute!" the feisty woman squealed.

"Nohoho, it's nohohot!" Freckle squealed louder. His paws, which had been tucked in like T-Rex arms to his chest, were now covering everywhere on his face he could reach.

"It's a shame that me admiring you flusters you so terribly, because I'm not going to stop any time soon. You're all mine to adore, Calvin McMurray~"

Holy hell.

The teasing's subject cried out in ticklish agony and released a new wave of laughter.

"This would be easier if- you know- I'll think I'll just- there we go!" Ivy maneuvered herself to sit behind Freckle's head while she pinned his hands under her knees. Now he was on full display, with no hope of saving his dignity.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle~" she teased as both hands came back down to lightly skitter over and across his belly. Freckle laughed uproariously, unable to hold anything back, his pure-hearted cackle ringing out throughout the garage.

It was almost more than he could bear.

Almost.

"DOHOHONT SAHAY THAT!"

"Why not?"

"IT MAHAKES IT WOHORSE!"

"Ah, good tip! Definitely will be making use out of this. Kitchee kitchee kitchee kitchee coo~!"

Ivy moved her paws towards his hips, squeezing them faster than was merciful.

Freckle's laugh deepened in pitch immediately, sounding more like a maniacal cackle.

"Pretty good targets, Miss Pepper, but you're neglecting some key players in this game of torture!" said Rocky.

"It's not torture! He's fine! Aren't you, sweetie?"

Freckle almost said no, but he was too busy laughing. Laughing from an attack he let happen. If he really detested it, he could have ended this from the beginning, and he knew that. But there was no real danger here. Not with Ivy. Not with Rocky, either. He knew they would never hurt him.

Nevertheless, when one is being pinned down and tickled stupid, the only thought your mind will allow is 'STOP'.

Rocky strode over to Ivy's side and looked down at his cousin.

"Me and Freckle used to get into many a battle such as these when we were little tykes. I triumphed them all, naturally, and I still remember his spots," the tomcat gave Ivy a wink and planted himself on Freckle's legs. "You go for the neck, I'll go for the knees."

"ROHOCKY!!" cried Freckle, betrayed.

"Ooo! Those are good ones!" cheered Ivy.

"ISN'T AHANYONE GOING TO WOHORK ON THE CAHAHAR?!"

"No", they both replied.

They began their double team attack on Freckle's tickle spots. Ivy went to work fluttering in every crevice of his neck, while Rocky rubbed and squeezed his kneecaps, occasionally giving a swift scribble to the undersides.

Freckle couldn't believe how absurd this scenario was. Here he was, now shrieking and giggling shrilly like a small child, while his two closest teammates were tickling him to pieces. He didn't bother to question it any more, simply surrendering to his silly fate and taking the opportunity to let everything go. He had been harboring so much guilt and anxiety over the past few days. Over the past few weeks even. What better time to abandon all sensible thought, what better time to look away from his reality of crime and war, what better time to simply be with his friends, safe and at peace, then now?

But he still needed to breathe, so Ivy let up and released his hands from her hold. Rocky dismounted from his legs and backed away cheerily to give the man some space.

Freckle immediately wrapped his arms around his waist and tucked his legs into himself, tail swishing wildly as he let out his remaining chuckles. As he caught his breath, he looked up at Ivy.

Ivy's expression was kind. "You feeling ok?"

Freckle couldn't stop grinning, and it wasn't from the tickles.

"Y-yeah," he sighed in relief.

"Yes, good man, laughing yourself up a storm, now come on, let's take a break from the car and head to the bar downstairs!" said Rocky.

"You mean after the break we just took from our work?" Ivy smirked.

"I don't know about you two, but all this horseplay has worked up my thirst. Whadd'ya say, Baby Face? Want to grab a beer?" Rocky reached a hand down to help him up.

Freckle was repulsed by the idea of drinking alcohol himself, but Rocky knew that as well, using it as a conversational turn of phrase.

The orange cat softened in agreement.

"Sure."

Rock wasted no time in trotting out the door, hungry for an ice cold scotch.

The two stragglers, now alone, slowly followed behind. As they walked, Ivy stretched an experimental pinkie out to Freckle's. He wasted no time in linking his paw with hers and pulling her to his side.

Not the worst of punishments, indeed.

-------

You know what, I eventually got hungry enough for lackadaisy fic that I wrote one myself. I haven't completed a fic in well over a year, but this franchise is beyond inspiring enough to birth this fic ❤️

@veryblushyswitch @someone1348 @kasey-writes-stuff @ticklyfluffstuff

#tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #tickle community #lee talks #tickle fic #lackadaisy tickles #lee!freckle #ler!ivy #ler!rocky

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

same name check lets go, im hooked on orion now thnx (: i dont think ive seen much on him!! have u done general hcs about him ???

I have not. Here goes.

Orion along with his two siblings are the rulers of this universe's hell. This world's equivalent of Lucifer was spilt into three beings upon death made up of their flesh, blood and bones. Orion is the blood devil and has power over it. He has a secondary theme with minerals as his flesh is akin to marble and his innards are ruby like in appearance.

Orion is very self absorbed and the most vicious of the three. Before his sister destroyed half his face Orion tricked innocent mortals and turned their souls into jewelry for himself. In falling for you, Orion sees you nothing but arm candy in the beginning. In his many years he's had plenty of fine pieces hanging from his side and he sees you no different. When he falls for you all hell breaks loose. It's the full five stages with a heavy acceptance. What has happened, has happened and he knows getting rid of you would only tear a hole in the heart he's grown rather than shut it down.

As much as he dislikes eyes on you, Orion loves showing you off in the same breath. We're talking breaking out the collection of jewels he managed to save, plus making some from his own flesh to make you really shine. Fine robes, a crown half the size of your head, he doesn't stop until you're decorated head to toe and even that isn't enough sometimes.

Orion adores nothing more than having you by his side, preferably nestled into his arms as you go about your day as rulers of the underworld. He even carries you in his arms or has you in his lap. Considering he is elven feet tall he can pick you up with one arm and carry you on his hip for hours which he loves to do.

He also enjoys domestic things to a great extent. Something he never did with previous'"partners" Matching outfits, feeding you by hand, deciding which sinner would be best for the new brooch he was making for you together- It's a combination of actually enjoying this actives and treating you so well it tarnishes your romantic view of anyone else for good.

A few more points on his design are his face is completely stone except for the hole his sister gave him which reveals a single eye under the slab. Orion's mouth his attached to his hand. Further more, there is a crater in his back from which he can produce more limbs. You are forbidden from looking at his back, but more than welcome to the many kisses he can provide.

Orion is quick jealousy and quicker to remove any threats in your relationship. Aside his siblings who could hold their own in a fight he has no issue eliminating anyone no matter who they are. He pretends to care if you cry, but he's pissed you're focused on what soon will be only a distant memory.

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #Orion my oc

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commander-rahrah · 26 days

Text

Talking to the Moon: Part VIII

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~5950 Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of trauma, abuse and possible death, some borrowed in game dialogue, suggestive, slight NSFW, canonical warnings apply!

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here part V: here part VI: here VII: here

Summary: Set in end stages of Act III. Astarion spends the day alone to gather his thoughts and prepare himself on how to make yet another confession - his love for you.

Notes:

Hi folks ♡ This is my take on non-ascended Astarion's romance scene in Act III, where I've continued to give him some more scenes between the Cazador fight and the romance scene -- because this poor vampire needs some time to decompress and breath and think! I daydreamed about a few of these scenes, and the dialogue was stuck in my brain and played on a loop until I finally got to write it down! I hope you enjoy the chapter and the culmination of all the little, patient moments between Astarion and GN!Reader/Tav that lead to this scene for them. I think there will probably only be a few more chapters for this series too! Crazy!!!

Thank you so much for reading! As always, kudos and comments are very very appreciated ♡♡♡

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Astarion’s pale fingers were twitching against the inside of his palms as he studied the busy cobblestone street.

Pairs — that’s all he could see. The pair holding hands as they weaved through the crowd. A man gently tugging a woman to his side, out of the way of an incoming carriage, before tipping their heads back and laughing. Two men flashing each other nervous, flirty smiles as they picked out rings together. His eyes had been drawn to pairs for months now — ever since he’s realized he done the unthinkable and actually fallen for you. But usually they were pairs that he could only assume the stories of. Couples that were long gone, dead and forgotten about. Skeletons with intertwined fingers, or love letters from decades ago long lost to the Shadowlands. He hadn’t seen couples with futures — honest to god living, breathing, hopeful pairs. Whispering and sneaking glances and kisses. Gentle casual touches as they picked out fresh fruit and matching jewelry. People so full of hope and love. It made his half-dead heart ache for you. Wherever you were right now. He had remained behind today, not quite ready to face the world as the supposed “heroes” you all had become to the city. No, he wanted more time to figure out what all this meant for him. For you.

You had offered to stay with him after his morning feeding, your voice low and gentle as the others still slept. But he insisted you go — as much as that little voice in his head argued to not let you go. Someone had to be there to make sure nobody took advantage of your kind, selfless heart.

But if he had another moment with you he would probably blurt out some rambling, befuddled love confession. Which isn’t the way Astarion wanted to do things.

You both had done everything so backwards from the beginning. He wouldn’t mess this up too.

So, here he was — meandering through the busy market of Baldur’s Gate. Eyeing flowers and jewelry and goods as if they could adequately describe how he felt about you.

Roses and chocolates and dramatic passion in bed. That’s what he thought this was supposed to be. What he’d read it felt like, what he’d faked it to be.

But no.

You were sweet lilies and midnight orchids, honey and delicate pastries, the deep night sky and moonlight. You with your gentle, patient and maddening touches that turned everything he knew upside down.

Astarion never really got any of it — even with his broken concept of love. He didn’t understand the point of it.

Because it was never with you.

No, no flowers or chocolates or jewelry would really capture how he felt. None of it could dare come close to explaining the fluttering, buzzing, electric feeling that went through him at just the thought of you.

He wouldn’t rely on theatrics either — no perfectly placed blanket and bottle of wine in the middle of the woods. No practiced lines or trained movements that were practically a ritual at this point.

The vampire would speak from the heart. His cold, half-dead heart that was… well, feeling quite the opposite as of late.

Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, the vampire took the long way back to the Elf Song Tavern — relishing the feeling of the sun heating his white hair, freckling the back of his neck. Memorizing the sights in the daytime colours, the different sounds of the busy streets.

Who knew how much longer he’d be able to take them in. That was part of what he gave away.

Another thing to come to terms with.

At least he got to make the decision for himself this time. Unlike most of his life.

The worn wooden stairs of the tavern creaked underneath Astarion as he went up to the group’s room. He marched through the ornate double doors before any nervousness or doubting thoughts slipped in at the prospect of seeing you.

But the room was quiet — the only sound a small crackling fire that must have been freshly set by housekeeping. There was no usual bustle of the dozen of you all — everyone still out in the city, doing whatever quest or do-good-ing someone insisted on today.

His pointed ear quirked slightly at a sound, and he turned his head towards it. The balcony doors were wide open, the sound of something lightly thumping the glass pane of the doors reached his ears. But he couldn’t see anything from here.

Moving heel to toe carefully to not announce himself, Astarion craned to see who it was before letting out a small sigh of relief. It was Karlach — her red tail hitting the glass softly as it swished back and forth. The rest of her was leaned up against the railing, with something hanging out of her mouth.

He let out a fake cough to get her attention, and she craned her head over her muscular shoulder to look at him. Her clawed fingers pulled a cigar out from her mouth, her lips pulling into a grin. “Hiya Fangs.”

Ugh, cigars. Astarion loathed the disgusting things — they reeked. “Karlach,” He greeted with a nod, leaning against the frame of the balcony door away from the smoke. “Back already?”

“Ah, never left.” She admitted a little sheepishly. “Wasn’t quite ready to face the world just yet.”

Right, Gortash. Gods, he’d been so wrapped up in everything that had happened to him that he’d almost forgotten. She’d asked for time to decompress after all of that too. Not that he blamed her.

The barbarian had even pulled herself together for his benefit — she was one of the first to jump to his defense when he announced to the group it was time to face his old Master.

He wondered if she got as much catharsis from killing Gortash as he did from killing the ancient vampire.

Probably not. Even with the lord dead she would still die. Not like him.

No, he'd get to live with that, like this, forever.

Sometimes he couldn’t decide what was worse. Cursed to die after finally seeing the sun and trees and ocean again. Or cursed to live forever with only fading memories of those things after longing for them for two hundred years.

It was a difficult question to answer. And now even more impossible with the added variable of his love for you — his very mortal, very breakable lover.

Astarion realized he had been silent for way too long then socially acceptable and blinked his red eyes back to reality.

Karlach had put the cigar out now thankfully, tossing her black and red hair over her shoulder as she braced her elbows on the metal railing. The rogue stepped forward to join her, pushing his hip against the railing as he looked down to the streets he had just been walking.

“I’m proud of you fangs, I hope you know that."

He raised a white brow at her as she continued. "I know it wasn’t easy… turning down what you did. But gods, are we glad you did.”

The vampire took a steadying breath, “I know… Now I just have to live with it. I’m not sure what will happen now, or once the tadpoles are gone.” He admitted with a twinge of fear in his voice.

Her amber eyes betrayed her, flickering down before she forced a smile on her face. “Whatever happens, you won’t be alone.”

“For now. I’m sure everyone will be called off to their own business." He ignored the giant, waving red flag of her impending doom. "And besides, they’re bound to get sick of avoiding the sun just for me after sometime…”

“What, Giggles?" She scoffed, "You have to know they aren’t going anywhere by now, Fangs.”

His heart squeezed tightly, “How can you be so sure?”

“Astarion. They talk about you like you put the stars in the fuckin’ sky.”

He swallowed the lump crawling up his throat. Not only had he finally noticed you actually did love him, apparently he was one of the last ones to see it too.

Karlach said it with so much conviction, that even if he hadn’t come to the same conclusion last night… he certainly would have now.

“If you’ll have them, they’ll be there.” She smiled tenderly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling. She reached out her large red hand, squeezing his shoulder before she grimaced. “Oh fuck, sorry!” She wrenched her hand back, “Touching! I forgo—“

“It’s ok, I didn’t mind that.”

“Still, shoulda asked. Gods, I gotta get better at that. Just couldn’t do it for so long, heh—“

Astarion gave her a sad smile, nodding his head.

If he was honest he used to loathe Karlach. Not that she deserved it. But she was handed shit cards just like him, and she insisted on being so fucking bubbly and positive and optimistic. It drove him mental.

And the touching. Gods, the touching.

In the beginning how she moaned and mourned physical touch, all while Astarion felt like he was going to chip a molar if another person touched him again.

And then the pure elation on her face when she got her engine upgraded and could hug, kiss... grab people’s wrists and shoulders and fingers so casually. But Astarion’s face had to be a perfect, numb mask so he could hide the fact that bile was rising in his throat and his skin was on fire anytime someone grabbed him.

He hadn’t meant to hate her. And he knew he didn’t now. Actually, he felt like he was already mourning his friend a little bit. He would miss her.

“Thank you,” Astarion’s said softly.

Karlach’s eyebrows raised high on her forehead, a little stunned at the gratitude. “For what?”

“For being my friend. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“You deserved it, Fangs. The whole time.” Her voice was unusually soft and low, like a whisper. “Every good thing that’s happened to you — including them. And there’s more to come, I know it.”

The smiles they shared after was bittersweet.

Hope in times like these was a dangerous thing.

• • •

Your shoulders instantly relaxed as your eyes settled on Astarion’s form. He was lounging near the fire in your room at the tavern, a a book face down over his leg with his knee acting as a placeholder. His striking red eyes watched your every step as you swayed on tired feet over to him.

“Hello, sweetheart.” The vampire said softly, looking up at you from the settee.

“May I?”

His pale hand tapped the spot next to him. Your legs all but gave out as you sat down on the soft cushions, your muscles finally finding some relief after your long day. Before you could you even think to ask him, Astarion was wrapping his arm around your side – pushing you into him.

You relished in the feeling, losing yourself in his scent and the feel of the pads of his fingers on your soft waist. Then his strong nose was pressed into your neck, pressing the smallest of kisses to the sensitive skin that caused a wave of emotions to crash through you all at once. “You’re alright?” He asked quietly in your ear, before pulling away to look you over.

“Alright. Tired, glad to be back.” You gave him a meek smile, “And you, love?” You couldn’t help but study him, your eyes falling to his other hand that was not holding you – playing with the stitches on the sides of his pants. The anxious habit had made him go through a couple pairs of pants by now.

“Yes. No. Hmm… It’s hard to verbalize.” He finally admitted.

Your eyes locked and a silent conversation transpired in those seconds. His blinks and flash of his red eyes was confirmation enough. “I understand.”

He licked his pink lips as he slid his hand from around you, his fingertips dragging across the small of your back as he instead laced his pale fingers in yours. “I do feel guilty that I ended up lounging around here in the sun while the rest of you were out being heroes…” Then he swallowed, staring out to the windows just beginning to turn golden pink with the slowly setting sun. “I guess I should probably start getting used to the shadows again. Who knows how long I have left in the sun?”

You gave him a sad smile, feeling your chest tighten at the look on his face. “I think you did the right thing. Stopping it. Stopping him.”

Never again would you say that name. Never again would you give the bastard vampire master an ounce of power, even in death.

“I know. So do I. Though that doesn't mean it stings any less.” You felt your eyes burn as his voice broke slightly, getting thick with emotion. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands on your lap, “I'll be with you either way. I hope you know that.”

“I think I do,” Astarion said, his eyes turning soft and round as he looked over at you. Then he rolled his neck with attitude, a smirk spreading across his lips. “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.”

You thought about your adventures today with your companions and couldn’t help but agree. “We do love to find trouble, don’t we?”

A small chuckle escaped him, shaking you both slightly on the settee. Then he took a steadying breath, his fingers tightening their hold on yours for a moment. “There's something I'd like to show you, if that's alright. Something out in the city.”

Your brows met in the middle, “What is it?”

“Something I haven't shown anyone else,” He admitted with an odd look on his face. “Tonight?”

“Tonight,” You agreed, squeezing his cold hand back gently.

• • •

“This way, it's not far.” Astarion said softly, his hand stretched back as he led you forward.

It took all of his willpower to stop his other hand from trembling as you both walked through the graveyard. The over-grown grass and long forgotten tombs were bathed in the moonlight from above, casting shadows across the space.

He risked a glance behind him to look at you, but you were as quiet and composed as ever as you took in the sights around you. The vampire had never seen you be so quiet as you had been in the last few days – he knew it was for his benefit. Usually his lovely moon was as sharp-tongued as he was, as eloquent and flowery as Wyll or Gale. But no, these past few days you had been listening and watching so patiently. You’d given him both comfort and space in a way he’d never thought possible.

He would have to add that to the never ending list of why he loved you.

His half-dead heart crawled up his throat as he approached the familiar sight of his own tombstone. It seemed so simple just sitting here in the overgrown grass – clearly untouched all these centuries later. It had held so much power over him for so long — this haunted place that was marked as the beginning of this existence.

This hole in the ground. This slab of stone.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt.” He croaked, his fingers slipping from yours to form fists beside him. “Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting.”

His master’s name made his mouth feel wrong, his tongue heavy and swollen.

“From that day on I was his. Until yesterday.”

“You were never his.” You said quietly, “Whatever he had, he took by force.”

“Maybe, but he did take it. There's almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock.” His bottom lip trembled, before he steadied himself. Turning to the side, he moved his gaze from the tombstone to you. “For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was, lay here dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

You took a deep breath, looking at him with your eyes wide, “And what do you want?”

Astarion’s heart stuttered, he was doing this. That’s what the whole point of all of this was, wasn’t it? Why he had that nervous fluttering in his stomach all day. “You... I want you. You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do!” His throat worked soundlessly, before he spoken again. “I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that.”

“You won't. Whatever comes next, I've got you.” You said it so softly, but with so much conviction he couldn’t help but believe you.

Then your mouth spread into a radiant smile that he couldn’t help but match. “Thank you.”

It took all of him to tear his eyes away from you. “Well... I should probably fix this.” Kneeling down, he pulled a sheathed dagger from his boot. He took the tip of it, pushing it into the weathered stone as he added the current year. The year he woke up from the evil nightmare that was his life. The year he met you.

Sheathing the dagger, he fell back onto his heels and he admired his work. You dropped down beside him, close enough he could feel your warmth radiating around you. And you were so quiet again, giving him time to process.

“I've been dead in the ground for long enough, it's time to try living again. With everything that life has to offer.” Taking a deep breath, he swiveled on his knees until his was face to face with you. The moon was backlit behind your head, illuminating your silver hair with an ethereal halo. His fingertips couldn’t resist reaching out and tracing the soft line of your cheek.

Taking a steadying breath, he let his hand fall back onto his lap. His lashes casting a shadow down his face as he looked down for a moment before he spoke again. “Months ago, on that bed in the last light inn... you asked me how I saw you.”

You nodded as you remembered, “You told me you needed time.”

“Ask me again.”

You licked your lips, “How do you see me?”

“I look at you, and I see everything. The moon and stars. The world. A future.” His pale fingers reached out for yours, intertwining them carefully. “I was petrified when you asked me before… because I knew, even back then. But I’m not afraid anymore.

Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance. I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” Astarion confessed before his other hand pale grabbed the side of your face, holding you steady as he pressed his lips to yours gently — to give you time to pull away.

The vampire didn’t have to wait very long for you to kiss him back. Your lips meeting his almost instantly, your hands pressing tenderly into the lapels of his jacket to hold you steady as you both balanced on your knees. Your soft lips, your scent, the feeling of your fingers bunched on his clothes — you were the most intoxicating thing he’d ever had.

You pulled away just long enough to whisper back in a husky voice, “I love you Astarion, irrevocably so.”

A feeling gripped his heart so tightly, spread through every pore and crevice of his half-dead body that he felt it bring him back to life. Astarion had been manipulated, coerced, abused and forced into acquiescence for over two hundred years. He had felt the physical control that his Master had over his body and soul. But this — you, you possessed him another way he had never felt. He could barely process it, let alone articulate the way you were making him feel right now. He opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to get the words out.

Instead silver lined the bottoms of his eyes and his bottom lip trembled, “What ever could I have done to deserve such a beautiful creature as you, my heart.”

But you shook your head, your silver hair bouncing with the movement, “I have never once questioned my love for you. You… you’ve never made me feel like I’m too loud, too much. You made me feel easy to love — and you did make me feel loved, long before you ever said the words. You make me feel like my blessing is something to be grateful for… not a thorn in your side. That I’m not a burden.”

“A burden? Never!” Anger flared through him at the people who made you feel this way. “A burden is something forced upon, against your will. I know that feeling. But you – you aren’t a burden. I choose you. Do not dilute yourself, or hide yourself away. Not from me.”

It was your turn to have happy tears fill your eyes now, your freckled nose crinkling as you smiled wide, “I love you.”

“Say it again.” He breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. His red eyes flickered down so he could watch your lips move and form around the words.

“I love you.”

A broken noise escaped from Astarion’s throat as he grabbed onto you. Euphoria and arousal and light flooded through him like never before. “Hells, the things you do to me. Just those words alone.” He hissed as his hand slid down the back of your neck, pulling you into him so he could kiss you more deeply then ever before.

Gods, did he want you. He wanted to taste every inch of you, re-discover your entire body. He wanted you breathy and panting as he swirled you with his mouth. He wanted his name on your lips and your hands on his body. He’d waited for this, waited for you for centuries.

Astarion gently pushed you into the long, soft grass and your eyes widened slightly with surprise. He lowered himself carefully on top of you, his hands bracketing either side of your head before asking in a whisper, “Is this okay?”

You nodded with a swallow, before opening your mouth. “Yes. And for you?”

“Gods, yes.” He purred into your ear before pressing his body flush to yours and capturing your lips again. Almost instantly one of your hands was at the nape of his neck, swirling his curls and massaging his scalp to the rhythm of your kisses.

The vampire slid his knee between your legs, stretching them apart so he could settle in between them deliciously — a hand moving underneath your shoulder to support you as you stretched your neck up to keep up with your kisses. He felt himself harden in his leather pants, rutting in the soft muscle of your thigh to get any kind of friction. Then his other pale hand slipped between the two of you and cupped between your own legs, feeling your arousal through the thin fabric of your trousers.

“Astarion,” You hummed in approval, bucking into his hand that sparked the fire in his belly to heat even more. He buried his face into your neck, nipping and sucking the delicate skin before pressing his tongue and lips to it in a soothing touch. If he didn’t stop here, he wasn’t sure if he could. The whole point of this was to do things the right way...

As if the cosmos heard his thoughts, the sounds of crunching steps nearby caused both of you to pull away in a flurry. You were both breathless, your chests heaving and skin flushed from your touch. Then quiet chuckles escaped you, shaking your bodies as your foreheads touched.

“Do you see what you do to me?” Astarion whispered, before detangling himself from you. You brushed each other off, before standing up and moving into the shadow of a nearby tree as incoming torch lights suddenly appeared.

“Hello?” A gruff voice called out, the clink of chained armor ringing as they walked closer to where you two were just laying.

“It was probably a ghost, Ryder.” Another voice teased from behind.

City guards. Well, that could have been awkward.

“OooOOOooo,” They mocked again.

“Eh! Stop it, you know this place gives me the creeps.” The first voiced huffed, before turning on their heel. “You owe me a pint for that.”

Astarion waited until their voices and footsteps faded away before peering around the large tree trunk. Another laugh escaped him, “What was it that I was just saying about you and trouble?”

You shook your head but joined his laughter, “That one is all your fault, you instigator.”

“Pardon me for finding you absolutely irresistible.” He licked his lips as he stared at yours, before blinking his red eyes back to reality. “Now what, my love?”

“Perhaps, now I can show you something I’ve never shown anyone else?”

He quirked a white eyebrow before letting a smirk spread, “Lead the way.”

Leaving the graveyard behind, you walked with your fingers intertwined and stepped in time with each other as you wandered down the cobblestones streets of Baldur’s Gate. You led the way confidently, a soft smile on your face as you snuck glances over to him. It made his heart thrum and stomach twist.

As you turned the corner onto a residential street, Astarion’s steps slowed. He looked around, blinking as he realized, “I know this street.”

You cocked your head as you kept walking, pulling him along with you, “Do you?”

“Quite well. I would use it to get to the little tavern nearby as a bit of a shortcut. But there’s this lovely little townhouse, tiny. It’s lavender with—”

“Flower boxes?” You finished for him.

“Yes, lilies.” Astarion walked forward before stopping in front of the townhouse. The narrow house was sandwiched between two others, painted a pastel lavender that shined brilliantly in the moonlight compared to the darker colours around it. “This one,” He pointed a long, pale finger at it.

You frowned slightly as you looked at the planter boxes, “The poor flowers.”

He followed your gaze, “They will bloom again, I’m sure of it.” Stepping closer to the little townhouse, he pointed up to the second floor window. “You know, there’s a piano in there.”

You perked up at that, your eyes darting from him to the window at back, “How do you know that?”

“I would hear it sometimes, faintly. Soft little melodies.”

“Really?”

A small smile spread across Astarion’s lips as he remembered the tunes — how sometimes he would stop underneath the window just out of sight in the dim light of the evening and listen. The harsh tug of his master’s orders would usually snap at him for the delay, but it was worth it to hear the joyful sounds.

“Every so often they would sing too. Such a lovely voice. I actually… l used to come this way when I was in the area — hoping I would hear them.” He admitted, wringing his hands together in front of him. “And I would try so hard to commit it to memory, so I could remember it when... Well, you know when.”

You looked over to him with the softest line between your brows. “Astarion, when was this?”

“Oh, time is so hard for me.” He tapped his chin as he thought, “Recently though— the last year or so I’d say.“

You worked your throat silently before pulling out a silver key out of your pocket, holding it out in front you. “When I realized I was going to stay in Baldur’s Gate, I started looking for a more permanent place to stay instead of the inns.”

You turned on your heel, and began to climb the narrow stairs on the side of the townhouse, “I saw an ad in the paper about a tiny room available at a discounted rate...” You slid the silver key into the painted wooden door that matched the rest of the house, and pushed it open. “Because the previous tenant had passed away and left behind a piano that was would cost them too much to move.”

Astarion followed you in wordlessly, his mouth falling open as you continued speaking. Until both of you stood inside the tiny lavender townhouse. It wasn’t very lavish — it was actually quite quaint, a little outdated. Some of the furniture looked well-loved and worn — a double bed pushed in the corner underneath the window to make space for the large upright piano taking up the majority of the room.

“I thought the piano was a selling feature, I loved it… I would play almost every night.” You said breathlessly, spinning around to face the vampire again.

His red eyes stayed on you, his voice thick with emotion. “It was you?”

“One year I’ve rented this room.” You admitted.

“It was you.” He breathed, crossing to you in a few steps and grabbing onto your fingers gently. The soft fingers that could play the piano so beautifully. “Play— play for me?” He asked, gesturing over to the dusty piano.

Your lips curled up as you nodded, pulling out the cracked leather piano bench and sitting before it. You stretched your fingers over the ivory keys, the dim light from the windows catching on the rings adorning them. Astarion could tell you must have taken lessons, your posture almost perfect as you straightened your back at the edge of your seat. He felt a tugging in the back of his mind of someone trying to teach him the same once, hundreds of years ago as a child.

But then your fingers pressed into the keys, and the emotion that crossed your face could not have been taught. You closed your eyes as you struck the first few chords, not needing to look as your hands glided between positions.

He was transfixed watching you, listening to you. Somehow you picked the tune that he remembered most clearly — the one that would slip into his mind the most when he was desperately looking for any kind of reprieve. It was more beautiful then he remembered, his memory of it was really a disservice to how exquisite it truly was.

Your posture laxed slightly as you began to hum, harmonizing with the melody you played on the piano and your voice drew Astarion in. He stood behind you, his fingers trailing the ends of your silver hair as he listened, brushing down the nape of your neck before squeezing it tenderly as you played the last note.

“I can’t believe it was you, this whole time. Your tunes, your voice kept me from madness some nights. Staring up at the moon, and you—” His voice broke, as tears broke free so instead he bent over to place a kiss on the crown of your head.

You turned to face him, standing up to reach his height. You gave him a sad smile, before asking, “May I?” He nodded with eyes closed, unsure of what he was even agreeing to. But then he felt the pads of your fingertips wipe his tears away, as gracefully and practiced as you had just touched the piano keys.

Astarion opened his eyes and grabbed your hand before you could pull it away. He held onto it before kissing your fingertips closely, tasting his own salty tears. “Just when I thought there was no possibility of loving you more.”

You mewed at the statement, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen spreading across your lips. “Do you believe me now?”

“About what?” He whispered.

“Fate.”

A breathy laugh escaped him as his heart lurched forward like it would thump right out of his chest, “Yes, my moon. I think I do.”

Leaning his face down, Astarion kissed you softly as he moved his arms to wrap around you. You matched his movements, circling your arms around his waist as your fingers grabbed onto the fabric of his jacket. Even with the long, drawn-out kisses, without requiring air like a mortal did, Astarion felt like he could finally breathe – fully and deeply for the first time in centuries. The darkness of his eternal immortal suffering suspending for a moment as his heart thundered alongside yours.

His lips became fervent on yours, kissing you harder and deeper than ever before. Your fingers moved to the front of shirt, knotting in fists as you pulled him into you. He groaned at the sensation of your chest pushed into his.

The vampire was sure he had never wanted anything so bad in his life — no other person, or blood, or freedom. Everything about this, about you, was making his mind swirl and heart pound like he had never experienced. Your scent — the sweet aroma of your bouquet, and the soap from last night. Your taste, like the richest wine and sweet honey pastries. The dichotomy of your gentle, tender kisses and the powerful, all-consuming ones you bestowed to him now. The little lavender house with the soft melodies and songs that had quite literally saved him for the past year, belonging to you.

“Starry,” You moaned out breathlessly as he trailed his kisses down your chest and throat, collarbones and sternum.

“Mmm, I can’t decide.” He purred into your skin, keeping up his touches with his lips and hands between his words.

“Decide what?” You panted slightly above him.

“Where I want you. The bed. This piano. Right here on the floor.”

You pulled away, your eyebrows furrowing softly, “Astarion, we don’t have to do anything you don’t—”

But he grabbed your chin with his thumb, catching your bottom lip slightly, as he made you look at him. “Are you going to make me beg?”

“What?”

“I want you — desperately. I ache for you, darling. And you are so sweet and considerate and have been so, so very patient. But I will beg if you want me to. Will that get the point across?” He sank to his knees in front of you, kneeling on the worn wooden floorboards of your rented townhouse. The tips of his fingers trailed down the back of your thighs delicately as he steadied himself for balance. “I love you. I need you. Please—”

You stopped his rambling as you bent over to kiss him, cutting off his words before pulling him off of the floor. “You don’t beg or kneel anymore, not to anyone and especially not to me.” You held either side of his face, staring intensely at him. “Do you truly want this?”

“Yes,” He said simply, his red eyes round and soft. Putting his hand on the outside of yours, stilling holding his cheek. His voice dropped an octave, barely more than a whisper as the building sensation of arousal and bliss started to form all over again. “Yes, my moon.”

Your lashes fluttered as you looked down to his lips and back up to his eyes. He knew they were a mirror to his own, shining with deep, true emotion. “Anything for you, my love. I am yours.”

The sound that escaped him was cut off as you pushed your lips back onto his.

#bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #astarion/reader #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfic #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav

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karda · 4 months

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joy and madeline infodump yippeeeee

almost all of the art ive made of joy and mads is set before or during her death/resurrection. i think these pieces are really the only ones ive done during the loops. and theyre from her pov

i havent drawn a lot of what joy sees and does during the loops. kinda just what madeline sees/pieces together. i imagine she slowly starts to realize whats going on after a while, having memories from past loops come to her the deeper they go.

the start of the time loop would begin after madelines death, when joy resurrects her. and resetting when the world ends. after joy brings her back, he gives madeline part of his soul to sustain her. this imbalance (not only madeline being undead, but splitting a soul in two), and joy's new ability to see the gods and otherworldly beings around them (like cassidy) creates a shift in the two realms. as time passes, they start to collide, and beings that had very little real world affect start to be able to completely fuck up shit around them. (ex: Hope, normally a minor god that plays petty games and meddles with peoples thoughts, can now directly affect people's lives and interact with them.) Joy's only hope of balancing things out, and keeping madeline with him, is convincing or tricking the gods around him. Joy will keep trying until he finds a better ending , or until the gods give up and give madeline her soul back.

(art of the resurrection, + of the world ending)

madeline is changed from her past self, her time in the afterlife feeling like years when it was just days. the only person that notices is cassidy, because joy is too blind by his will for her to stay alive to check if its even her anymore. cassidy believes joy is selfish and scared, and thinks he only keeps trying because he blames himself. cassidy has been friends with Misfortune for years, and has become comfortable with both realms, and feels betrayed by Joy for ruining it for her. she's just a kid. she never remembers the time loop exists, but in each one she figures it out quickly.

madeline was basically an older sister figure to cassidy, and practically lived at her house, even when she wasn't meant to be babysitting her. Madeline's ghost hurts Cassidy more than her death, having to see a fake image of her sister walking and talking when she's still grieving.

just some random lore shit👍👍👍👍 if u read this Mwah love u ❤��

#rambling #ocs #joy #madeline

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sorenblr · 5 months

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Now that you've completed the SMT V stream, I (and I'm sure some other folks, too) would love to hear what you think of it compared with the other main Megaten games you've played on stream. I think you've done SMT 1, SMT IV and SMT IV:A so far. Include Persona 1 too if you'd like.

And that dreadful Tokyo Mirage Sessions: pound sign Fire Emblem, too

SMTV is hard for me to discuss because there's very little about it that compels me to deeper thought. It really, genuinely bores me to think about, and anything I do have to say about it only evinces an incredibly cynical read of the series. I'll just put whatever I have left to say here, so that I don't feel the need to revisit.

It's just, you know, this bloodless cultivation of recycled semiotics from Nocturne. We ragged on IV for being overly invested in derivation and homage, but it looks almost daring coming off of V. The only really original idea that it brings to the table, the notion of Nahobino as the 'true' form of these divided and depreciated myth images, is almost offensive in the way it reframes designs that at least try to approximate real cultural attitudes towards religion as lesser, enervated reflections of yet more Tokusatsu tripe. Apart from that, it's a very inert piece of storytelling. I feel like a joke is being played on me whenever the game presumes an emotional investment in characters like Tao or Yuzuru.

I generally think highly of all the little design wrinkles that were implemented under Komori's stewardship, and that owe to his experience directing the more balance-intensive affairs of Etrian Odyssey. The new utility of consumables, dampeners as a limited means of addressing weakness in party structure, the need to attend to enemy and player Magatsuhi gauges etc. All necessary supplements to a battle system that was beginning to wear thin by 2016. Only my opinion of everything that enfolds it, the exploration, was diminished on this second playthrough. The layouts are still compelling, with a novel emphasis on managing layers of verticality, but they're populated with so much idiot open-world cruft. Vending machines, chests, glory crystals, health orbs, Miman. An overabundance of piddling incentive to keep you in a state of compulsion, and which I believe contributes to the exhaustion that many players feel come Taito. I still like the Miman, but they essentially exist in a continuum with the fucking feather collectables in Assassin's Creed.

(All the colored orbs littered around the sands are the perfect wedge to that design sensibility. They're almost totally inconsequential and only worth pursuing for the feeling of having absorbed more bright bobbles into yourself. They whisper to your lizard brain so that you don't feel too unstimulated navigating the space, which is never deigned to be worth the doing for its own sake. I'm out here picking up orbs and I can't even use them to extend the duration of Spartan Rage. Videogames are fucking stupid.)

It also made me more conscious of the ways the game fails to leverage art direction against what were probably non-ideal production conditions. It's never easy to forget that you're in a world of economically distributed UE4 assets, with no less than four brilliant hues of sparkling sand and ruined structures that have largely forfeited the Tokyoite specificity of previous games in favor of the same vending machines and multi-floor apartments and office buildings repeated ad nauseam. Daat never feels more like a hostile environment than a self-conscious playground. The concept art backdrops and rudimentary 3D textures of IV/IVA, and the claustrophobic interiors of I- all more lively by far. Pretty good skyboxes, though. No complaints there.

I think the series has moved into the sort of tired self-pastiche that every franchise turns to after decades of iteration. Time and chance happened, and now it's Angus Young crawling out of his mansion and into his boy-clothes to duckwalk across the stage while his grapefruit-sized prostate wages war against him from within.

If I were to rank just the main series from what we've streamed thus far, it would be something like I > IV > V > IVA. The only sense in which TMS has it at a disadvantage is that it emulates more cleanly. I'm glad that we're done with the latter half of the series and can finally move on, but I'll never forget that big huge enormous ass...

#ask #smt #megaten #atlus #smtv #streaming knowledge

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lady-pug · 4 months

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dream a little dream of me

Chapter IV of Dream a Little Dream of Me

Summary: As you settled in for the night, sleep overcame you almost as soon as your head hit your pillow.

“You called?” you heard a voice call out in the darkness.

Opening your eyes, you noticed with joyous gidiness that you were once again standing on the cobbled street, the moonlight shining softly on your skin. And Morpheus, the man you desperately wished to see, was standing only a few steps in front of you.

“I-” you almost found yourself at a loss for words “I did.”

Pairing: Morpheus | Dream of the Endless x Reader

Word count: 1,4k

Warnings: none

Notes: So… hi. I’m back. I’d like to start off by apologizing. I’m so so sorry for how long I’ve been absent, and especially for how long this story went without an actual ending to it (even though I’d promised to have it out quickly, just goes to show I shouldn’t make promises I might not be able to keep). A lot has happened in my personal and professional life in the past months that have kept me away from writing. I’ve had the first half of this chapter for almost as long as the third one has been out but so much was happening that I didn’t have the time or the motivation (sometimes I lacked both to be honest) to come back and finish it.

But I’ve finally done it. This story is finally complete. I’ve had the idea for this chapter mostly planned out in my head since chapter 1, and now I finally get to share it with you. I’d like to thank anyone who has taken the time to read this story and embark on this small journey with me, whether it be just one chapter (even just one paragraph) or the complete story. Thank you so so much for reading, and a special thank you for anyone who has left any sort of feedback, it means the world to me. And again I’m so very sorry for taking so long to write this, I sincerely hope you can forgive me. And I truly hope you enjoy this, dear reader!

Reader's gender not specified

Previous part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Things had started to look a little bit brighter after that night. Slowly, very slowly, little by little, things in your life started getting better, getting sorted out. It wasn’t immediate, nor was it without effort, but it was something.

The first thing you did after writing ten whole pages on that fateful Word Document was to start looking for a job. Literally anything would do, just so long as it got the bills paid and added food to the table, just long enough for you to get back on your feet and find a more permanent career. You’d be the first to admit that some of the jobs you took during that time, some of the people you’d met, were simply awful, sometimes bordering on humiliating. But some you actually enjoyed, and some of the people you had met you’d keep in your heart for a long time.

You’d also tried getting in touch with the people you’d grown apart, even if they didn’t want anything to do with you, just as a way to get closure. Some answered and some didn’t. Some didn’t want to talk, others agreed to meet. Some simply told you how things you’d done had hurt them, and you told them of how they had hurt you in return. And some had even agreed to try and work things out, slowly regaining contact and, eventually, their trust.

And finally, after several long months, you managed to save up enough money to travel back to your home town for a couple of days in order to pay your relative’s grave a visit. It wasn’t perfect, nor was it ideal, but it was enough, if only for now. You felt a strange sense of calmness looking at the words engraved in their headstone. The sort of calmness you had only felt when in the Dreaming.

Speaking of, your night visits to the Dreaming and its inhabitants had been a comfortable constant in your life for the past few months, at least in the beginning anyway. At first, you kept coming back every night, cherishing your conversations with the café owner, who you had come to know was named Amanda, or the little quips Matthew threw your way whenever he saw you walking around town. Even Mervyn’s rudeness was something you had grown fond of. But the thing you looked forward to the most was seeing Dream. Sometimes he’d actually stop by and engage in casual conversation with you, other times he'd just send a small grin your way over his shoulder in passing as he strode around town. But every single time you saw him you felt a warm, fuzzy fluttering feeling in your chest.

But eventually, as things in the waking world started to get better, your visits to the Dreaming started to become progressively more scarce. You started having other dreams too, some good, some not so much, your visions of the small town, and consequently your interactions with Morpheus, dwindling by the day. While it saddened you to let this go, to let him go, you cherished it even more so.

Tonight, though, almost an entire year after your first real conversation with him by the riverside, you really wished to visit him, even if it was one last time. It had been weeks since you’d last visited and you were hoping with all your heart to be able to talk to him again. You had good news to share after all.

As you got ready for bed your thoughts kept wandering back to Dream. Why had he become so special to you? Why were you special, like Lucienne had told you, in the first place? Why did you keep going back to the Dreaming? Maybe you’d never know the answer to those questions, and you realized with a quiet start that you were fine not knowing. Those things happened, and you were honestly glad they did, there was no point in dwelling on the past now.

As you settled in for the night, sleep overcame you almost as soon as your head hit your pillow.

“You called?” you heard a voice call out in the darkness.

“I-” you almost found yourself at a loss for words “I did.”

He smiled softly, head slightly tilted as if to ask what was on your mind.

“It’s just-” you shook your head in order to gather your thoughts “Since… that night, I’ve been coming here less and less.”

“It’s because you don’t need this anymore.”

For a brief moment you panicked, doesn’t he want you to come see him anymore?

“What? No, I-” you stammered “I still- I still need this. I still need you!”

His grin turned soft and he averted his eyes before speaking again.

“You have gotten to a point in your life in which I am no longer needed. There is nothing holding you back anymore, you get to live your life however you see fit.”

A stinging sensation accompanied the tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“But I still want to see you. I still want you.”

His smile widened, small lines creasing in the corners of his eyes as he took a step towards you, leaving almost no space between the two of you.

“I once said you could see me again…”

“If I wished.” your own smile grew as realization dawned on you.

“Always.” he whispered as the back of his hand caressed your own, light like a feather.

As you stood there,breathing each other in, a moment turned into two, which then turned into a few minutes more, so much so that you almost forgot the reason for your visit.

“Why are you here?” Dream asked softly.

“Hm?”

“Why did you summon me?” he took a minuscule step back, only enough to be able to gaze into your eyes “You seemed like you had something important on your mind.”

“Oh!” you shouted, and had he been any mere mortal, Morpheus might have just flinched away from you. But he was no mere mortal and thus didn’t startle so easily, so he simply tilted his head to the side and waited for you to proceed “I finished my book.”

“That’s wonderful.” he smiled, genuinely happy for you.

“And a publisher has agreed to publish it!” you rocked on the balls of your feet, suddenly feeling bashful “I got the confirmation email today. I thought you might like to hear about it, since you were oh so interested in it before, you know.”

He chuckled softly, both of his hands resting on your shoulders to keep you in place.

“I am truly happy for you. And I feel honored you decided to come all this way to share it with me.” he removed one of his hands from your shoulder and raised it in the air “I believe this moment calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”

For the briefest of moments you panicked, believing he was sending you away once more.

“No, no, wait!” you tried to hold onto his hand but it was too late, he had already snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened. You were still there with him, not back in your bed in the morning. His smile turned smug, bordering on a smirk, as if he was already expecting your reaction.

And then you heard it. From seemingly out of nowhere came the soft whisper of a trumpet, followed by a powerful voice.

“Where is that coming from?” you looked around but could not find the source of the music.

Dream simply shrugged. That did not matter now, did it? Slowly, he raised a hand towards you, palm up and inviting. Placing your own hand on top of his, he pulled you closer, your chests practically touching, as his other arm enveloped your waist.

“This is what you call a celebration around these parts?” you teased, earning a chuckle from him.

“Only when both parts are into it.” he responded, slowly swaying you both to the rhythm of the song.

As you and Dream danced together, the soft glow of moonlight caressing your skins, you couldn’t help but sigh, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Thank you.” you whispered.

“Whatever for?” he hummed.

“For this. All of this.”

As you slipped further into his embrace, you felt peaceful. Your whole body tingled and for only a moment you wished you didn’t have to go back to the waking world.

“You’re welcome, darling.” he whispered back to you.

But you now knew you could always return here, to this very moment. All you had to do was wish for it, and Dream would bring you back here. Back to him.

#morpheus x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x gn!reader #dream x gn!reader #sandman x gn!reader #dream of the endless x gn!reader #the sandman fanfic #morpheus fanfiction #dream fanfic #dream of the endless fanfic

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