#not because it wouldn't bother him at all but it's just easier that way
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💒 pt. 2
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#I've never really gone over how'd they make up and tbh I think kiryu would be very content to just move on#not because it wouldn't bother him at all but it's just easier that way#especially if he thought nishiki had died at first and wouldn't wanna lose him again by dwelling on it#yakuza#ryu ga gotoku#kiryu kazuma#nishikiyama akira#my art
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Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!
And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.
ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE
when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.
you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.
your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.
you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.
one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.
you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.
one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.
the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.
he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.
“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.
the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.
well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.
you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.
apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.
simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.
“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.
“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.
the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.
you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.
the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?
“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”
“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”
“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.
“points to you.”
“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.
he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.
“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.
you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.
“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.
“or should we take off another?”
you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”
“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.
“ghost!”
it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.
“what, mactavish? im busy.”
“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.
the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).
“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.
“it’s fucking shepard.”
it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.
you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.
“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.
you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.
you pass out.
when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.
“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.
your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.
the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.
your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.
“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.
you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.
“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.
“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.
“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”
he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.
he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.
just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.
“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.
you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.
“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.
“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”
“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.
“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.
“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.
“and whose fault is that?”
the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.
“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.
you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.
simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.
your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.
“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.
“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.
the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.
“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.
spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.
john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.
when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.
the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.
there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.
it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.
your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.
when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.
“how’re you feeling?”
you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.
“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”
the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.
the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.
“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.
no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.
you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—
you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.
that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.
your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.
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authors note:
I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.
thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶
#angst#simon riley x gn reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley angst#cod mw2 fic#cod x reader#task force 141#tf 141#141 x reader#141!reader#ghost x gn reader#gn!reader#ghost x you#ghost angst#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader#ghost cod#johnny soap mactavish#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#john price#kyle garrick#john mactavish#mw2 141#captain price
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DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings
Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!
Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.
~~~~~
Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.
Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.
Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.
However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.
And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.
Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.
As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.
But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.
But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.
Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.
It was so weird here.
When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.
Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.
He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth.
He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures.
He missed the dance of death and life.
He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League.
This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely.
Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.
~~~~~Phone call~~~~
Damian: Mom, I want to go home.
Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened?
Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this.
Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol.
Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much.
Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz.
Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem.
Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.
~~~~~~~~
It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.
And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.
The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…
Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.
Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.
~~~~~~~
When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.
Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.
Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.
Jason: So, do you like books, little demon?
Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft.
Jason: Personal recommendations?
Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites.
Jason: Not a common opinion, huh.
Damian: It reminds me of my family.
Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.
~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~
Dick*whispers*: How's the situation?
Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.
~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~
Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd?
Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course.
Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest.
Jason: Wow, what a jerk.
Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.
Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.
Jason: Your sister? How old was she when...
So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.
Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her.
Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you.
Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury.
Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands.
Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now?
Duke: We are very sorry, dude.
Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock.
Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him.
Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son.
Damian: Did I say something wrong?
Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.
Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.
~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~
Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open.
Danny and Dan *salute*.
~~~Several Days Later~~~
Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller.
Dick: And Danny and Dan are..
Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters.
Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami.
Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest.
Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you.
Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.
~~~Several years later~~~
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Shang Qinghua strikes me as the type who would only pursue a particular cultivation skill if it had some utility to making his everyday life easier or some specific task more doable, not even register that he'd achieved anything impressive with his cultivation in the process, and then carry on firm in the belief that this is a normal skill that every other cultivator has probably already acquired. Because if it's useful, why wouldn't they?
Like he thinks cultivation is cool and all, but (as can be evidenced by some of his writing choices) he's not really interested in it for its own sake. So everything he chooses to pursue has a reason. Usually that reason is "letting him be done with this tedious task so that he can possibly scrape together some free time, or at least more time to do other tasks."
This is why, despite sword arts being very cool and dashing and all, Shang Qinghua doesn't really bother learning a lot of swordsmanship or fighting skills. There are pretty few situations where wielding a sword is useful, most of those situations are ones which Shang Qinghua doesn't want to be involved in, and nearly all of his martial siblings are better at and more interested in fighting anyway.
He knows that martial prowess is popular and attractive, but it's boring. Sword drills? Dull as hell. There's a reason he came up with a super cursed sword that let his protagonist immediately win almost any fight, with consequences that just led to more interesting drama or conflicts to write about. His fight scenes were at least as boring and repetitive as his sex scenes, let's be real.
The end result is that Shang Qinghua's cultivation is probably deeply weird.
Like he's done muscle-reinforcement but not for combat, it's so that if he needs to he can literally pick up a recalcitrant ox and move it. He mastered inedia because remembering to eat and finding a moment to do it during An Ding's inventory week was harder. He introduced flying carpets to the setting after he transmigrated because figuring out how to transport items on some compatible spiritual device that was bigger than a sword blade, and could thus hold like a chest of goods or baskets of supplies, was way too convenient to pass up. He has selective knowledge of various skills, like alchemy, medicine, smithing, etc, things that are usually only brought up at the master level (thanks to his author knowledge cheat) but he doesn't know most of the basics of those skills, and he only deploys his knowledge for like, hyper specific tasks largely unrelated to the field.
He probably drives Mu Qingfang and Wei Qingwei crazy because he'll drop expert niche knowledge that they know is expert niche knowledge into a random discussion out of the blue, but then can't actually sustain a conversation about it because he doesn't know all the usual accompanying information. Mu Qingfang counting slowly backwards from ten because somehow Shang Qinghua knows that a super rare tonic made from a believed-to-be-extinct plant can bestow temporarily telekinesis to those who imbibe it, but doesn't know anything else about the medicinal uses of the plant, the history of the tonic, or other tonics that can achieve similar results with varying side-effects. But he knows what this one hyper-specific thing will do and he knows, very very vaguely, how to make it. Somehow.
Which would be less weird if it was just one thing, because people do pick up odd bits of knowledge or skills from unexpected places now and again. But it happens all the time. Seemingly at complete random! He also, as said, doesn't just do it with knowledge but with skills. No idea of basic leveling up, Shang Qinghua singles out what he wants from a process and then just does enough to get it and skips everything else that usually goes with it.
I bet he's like thirty before it comes to light that he has no idea how to actually do basic meditation, or something, and Yue Qingyuan does that thing where he smiles placidly while dying inside because how? Shang-shidi is a peak lord! How does a peak lord not know how to meditate properly?!
(In Shang Qinghua's defense, meditating involves spending a lot of time just focusing on one's self and not doing anything else, and he is a busy man! And he actually has mastered a form of meditation, but it's a kind Cang Qiong doesn't usually teach and that you do while also performing repetitive tasks. Usually those repetitive tasks are things like "repeatedly punching the exact same spot on a tree until the tree topples" but Shang Qinghua's are more like "reviewing a thousand nearly identical requisition forms and eating melon seeds at a steady rate" type stuff. When other people expect him to meditate he just sits quietly for a minute until they leave.)
#svsss#shang qinghua#airplane shooting towards the sky#scum villain's self saving system#scum villain
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first in my heart
Astarion Ancunin x Reader
Summary: Astarion hasn't seen his own face in 200 years and this bothers you deeply. You find a solution to finally show him how you see him, yet it leads to much more than simply that.
A/N: Gotta thank my sweet @iamnicodemus for encouraging me to write this. Undoubtedly one of the sweetest things I've ever written.
Word count: 4,7k
Masterlist
"I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."
It was something that lurked in the corners of your mind, those words of his. No matter how many days passed, you couldn't shake them off. It saddened you deeply. Each new passing mention about the last two centuries of Astarion's life drove a knife into your heart and twisted bitterly.
To the naked eye, it was imperceptible, never there. Even now, as you sat around the warm bonfire, watching as the pale elf bickered halfheartedly with Gale, he seemed as ordinary as your group of misfits could be. His smile loose, adorning those sharp fangs you'd become quite familiar with; silver hair curling delicately around pointy ears; deep red eyes reflecting the fire embers with a unique shine whenever he'd steal glances at you. He was the embodiment of lightheartedness and witty remarks, eccentric, unbothered, and with a quick tongue for anything.
And yet, he wasn't, not always. You felt secretly privileged, in a way, to be able to see the real him—to be allowed to. To hold him close when he wakes up gasping for air he didn't quite need and with watery eyes in the dead of the night; to softly kiss each and every scar on his back, whispering promises of love where before he had only known pain; to remind him again and again of his worth.
Astarion had a side to him you were slowly uncovering; you think, that he himself is only now uncovering as well. Vulnerable and fragile, broken but not beyond repair, yearning to be cradled by gentle hands.
He deserves to be mended, you know it in your heart. To get back what was taken from him. And you wanted to help, if only a little.
Earlier today as you ventured through Baldur's Gate, you stumbled upon a discarded sketchbook. It was a little dirty and a little worn, but it was still very much usable. Amidst your—many—questionably valuable loot, you knew you had a few good pencils to spare too.
It's been long since you picked up some paper and let your mind run free—before your whole adventure, to be precise. Maybe you'd be a little rusty around the edges and it would take a few tries to get him close to perfect, but you had time; or, you'd make time. He deserved as much.
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The lines that made him him came almost like second nature to you, maybe because you'd traced those same features with your fingertips countless times before within these last weeks. Ever since he admitted he'd fallen for you beyond his plans of seducing you, things had been easier, lighter. He allowed himself to be cherished and you were more than happy to do so.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you created curly strands of his hair with your pencil. Delicate and precise, even for the mess that was his curls.
The sky bathed in shades of orange, pink, and baby blue as the sun lowered in the distance. The camp was as lively as it usually was during the evenings. Karlach was playing fetch with Scratch and the Owlbear cub, the latter who was mostly just running around aimlessly. Gale and Wyll were hunched over the fire doing something you could only hope wouldn't end in mild disaster. Lae'zel sharpened her blades, a scratching sound piercing your ears from afar. Shadowheart looked to be in deep conversation with Astarion, to which the vampire gestured wildly as he apparently tried to make a point.
You never expected that your unfortunate encounter with a mind flayer would give you a makeshift family, but you were thankful that it did. For better or worse, you were all in this together, and that was comfort and motivation enough.
With the strangely soothing sounds of laughter and bickering, you turned your attention back to your sketchbook. Going back one page, you had already finished a rough sketch of Astarion's profile, focused on the contrast of his sharp nose and soft curls. Now, on the next page, you were working on a more elaborate portrayal of his features, depicting a look he often wore when you sauntered over to him; the faint smile on his lips that had grown all the softer ever since you first met; the gentle tilt of his head as his eyebrows scrunched expectantly; the sharp and alluring eyes who could pierce into your soul.
"What are you up to, my sweet?"
The sudden honey-coated voice startled you, you jumped slightly on your seat and hastily covered the pages on your lap with your forearms.
The elf himself stood only a few feet in front of you, his lips pursed and an eyebrow raised in curiosity as he tried to peek past your arms.
You chuckled timidly, "Nothing, I was just- just resting a bit." Shrugging nonchalantly as you smiled.
Astarion narrowed his eyes at you but didn't push it, he never did. "Gale is trying to make us something to eat with what he got from the vendors today," he gestured behind himself and to the fire where Gale stood in front of, "I wouldn't be the first to try it out if I were you but I'm dying to know everyone's opinion on it." A sly smirk got his fangs poking out, "bonus points if someone vomits it out."
You shot him an amused look, biting back a laugh. You never quite got why he had this little rivalry with Gale—besides the fact he wasn't overly fond of Gale's flirting attempts with you in the beginning, but that had long since subsided. To be honest, you think it's more routine than anything else at this point, for show and amusement; a friendly rivalry.
Slightly cold fingertips caught hold of your chin when you didn't answer, his thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth as Astarion held you. "Do join me, will you?"
The smile you still wore shifted into something sweeter, reserved only for him. And you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes momentarily. "I will… in a moment."
Astarion blinked at your briefly evasive answer, but nodded anyway, "I'll… be waiting."
He walked away, slow steps taking him towards the commotion around the campfire. You felt a little bad for denying him company right away, but it was for a good cause, you had to follow your streak of inspiration if you wanted to finish the drawing to the best of your abilities.
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Dinner proved to be pleasant, tasty even, for Gale's culinary standards. This time of day had to be one of your favorites, with everyone sitting together around the fire at night and forgetting about life's misfortunes for a moment.
You sat by a rock, leaning your back against it as your shoulders shook with laughter at one of Halsin's stories. Astarion had plopped down by your side not long ago, the weight of his shoulder resting against yours as comforting as it always was. He took just a while longer to take your hand in his tonight, cold fingers hooking around yours and squeezing as he brought your joined hands to rest on his thigh.
Everything felt so new, you thought of yourself as a giddy teenager sometimes; heart fluttering with each lingering touch and stolen glance. For most of the time, you let Astarion set the pace of things, giving him the freedom to choose to be by your side. And there wasn't a time when he chose not to be.
He played with your fingers, palm to palm as if to compare sizes, alluring red eyes focused solely on where you touched. Innocent, boyish even. It was new for him too, you thought, perhaps much more than it would ever be to you.
And then your mind drifted back to the gift you had been steadily creating for him, excitement twirling in your stomach. You leaned closer, lips brushing the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder, "I'm gonna head to my tent for a bit, got a few things to organize. I'll find you later, yeah?"
A low hum fell past Astarion's lips, his eyes flicked to you, all big and vulnerable. "Oh, alright," his voice quiet and sweet.
You smiled, squeezed his hand, and planted a kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes never left you as you walked away.
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It had never been on his plans, falling for you. It wasn't even something he considered would happen when he first started to slip a few honeyed words your way. But then you threw his heart off course with your tender touches and whispers of comfort, leaving telltales of your warmth all over his cold body. And he was a goner.
The last time Astarion dared to care about someone, he endured a year of punishment locked away, alone, starving, and crying for help that wouldn't come. There had been a fear, clawing at the back of his mind as he watched himself crumble for you; a fear that this would end much the same.
When he finally bared his heart for you—shaking like a leaf with the proverbial organ stretched out in his hands—he expected you to deny him, scream at him, maybe even send him away.
You didn't.
You said you cared for him. You hugged him.
There was no one else in the world like you, he decided.
Three dangerous words lingered on Astarion's tongue each time he woke up to your sleeping form beside him. For the time being, he settled for kissing the shape of them into your skin, over and over, until maybe one day you figured it out.
He scoffed at himself, finally tearing his gaze away from where you sat on the other side of the camp. If his much younger self saw him now, he'd probably be laughing. Or he'd be very envious. No in-between.
Stars danced in the night sky, alongside a half-moon dusted with faint clouds. It was late, most of the group had already turned in for the night, with Karlach keeping watch, as much to her dismay, it was her turn.
Astarion ran his tongue over his fangs, grip tightening on the book he had in his hands. He'd been trying to read the same page for minutes now.
There was no one else in the world like you. He wondered when you'd realize that. When you'd realize that you were infinitely too good for the likes of him.
With a shiver running down his spine, Astarion worried that you might have started to.
It's been a few days now that you've been… distant; tucked away in your tent whenever you settled camp, not sparing him much time of day, at least not nearly as much as you used to.
With an annoyed click of his tongue, as he closed his book, Astarion realized he missed you, even with you sleeping side by side each night. How needy of him.
But he missed your mindless talks by the fire as everyone settled in for the night; he missed your walks through town just before sunset or sunrise; he missed the causality, the simplicity of calling you his. He'd gotten used to the sweet routine quite quickly.
The thought that you might already be growing tired of him made his dead heart clench agonizingly inside his chest. He glanced back at you, hunched over your makeshift desk as you scribbled something down in a book, Scratch lying by your feet. That is a kind of pain he wasn't sure he could endure.
Perhaps against his better judgment, his feet carried him to you anyway; yet he hesitated, words heavy on his tongue. Astarion stood awkwardly behind you, fidgeting with the edges of his shirt and praying that anyone who might still be awake wouldn't look this way. Scratch raised his head when the elf approached, a whine coming from him as his head tilted from side to side as if he wanted to ask what was wrong. Seems even the dog pities his predicament.
Old habits die hard and Astarion couldn't help but assume the worst, every time. He doesn't know how to be with someone, doesn't know the first thing about being in a relationship—was that what you two had? It's not like you ever labeled it. Maybe he did something wrong, and that's why you've been limiting your time with him.
"Astarion?"
With several blinks, his eyes focused again, only to see you regarding him with a frown, hand resting atop the closed book you had been writing in. Now your head was the one tilting inquisitively.
"Is everything okay?"
Still, your voice would always be sweetest to his ears.
Astarion shook his head softly to clear the fog his insecurities had brought and plastered a smile on his lips. "Of course, my darling," he approached, extending a hand to your sitting form and twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, "I just think you should be getting your beauty sleep by now. Come warm up my bed, won't you?"
The faint blush that dusted your cheeks whenever he sweet-talked you would never cease to endear him. "We can read that book you're so fond of if you don't want to sleep, the cheesy romance one," Astarion purred, his pointer finger tracing the edges of your jaw.
You turned your head, planting a small kiss on his palm. "I'll be going soon, just want to finish something first. You can read without me, I don't mind."
But how could he ever tell you, that the words looked blurry and tangled without you by his side?
Longer than an hour had gone by when you finally decided to come to his tent. The night was mostly quiet, eery, with only the sounds of crickets, frogs, and the crackling of the dying fire. Astarion lay on his side, back turned towards the tent's opening. He didn't need sleep, not really, some meditation here and there would usually be enough to keep his energy up. But it was a habit he'd picked up when you started sleeping together through the night.
He wasn't asleep tonight, however. He heard your footsteps approaching him, quiet and cautious so as to not disturb him. He felt you lying down beside him, ever so slowly.
Astarion closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold himself back and failing miserably. One taste of your affection had been enough to get him hopelessly addicted.
He turned, shuffling closer and curling his body around you. His arm went over your stomach and tugged lightly, like a kitten asking for attention. You didn't say anything as you closed your arms around him, your lips finding the bridge of his nose and then his forehead. Words were futile when actions spoke the loudest.
Your gentle touches, the way you hold him without malice, he could hardly get enough of it. Your arms wrapped around him and your lips grazed his skin with lingering kisses, and it didn't hurt, it didn't burn or make him feel sick. You were the first one to ever do it, to hold him without hurting him.
Astarion nuzzled your neck, burying himself in the feeling, gladly drowning in it as he drank every last drop. Tears prickled his eyes, they usually did on nights like these and he's never quite sure why. Maybe it's because of the way your fingers gently tangled in his hair yet didn't tug or scrape; maybe it's the way you tighten your hold on him as if trying to mend his fragile heart; maybe it's because of how much he longed for someone like you to come and save him, on nights where all he knew were pain and unwelcomed caresses that scarred his skin more than any blade ever could.
And now, he wanted to lose himself in the comfort he found, that you so generously provided. His fingers closed forcefully on the fabric of your shirt, nearly ripping it, afraid you'd leave if he held you any looser. The fear of waking up alone and finding out that he'd lost you was all too consuming, tugging at his heartstrings.
He closed his eyes and rogue tears dampened the collar of your shirt. It was okay, it would be dry come morning, you wouldn't know. You were warm, you chased away everything that haunted him.
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You stared at it intently. You have been staring at it for a while now, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek in nervousness and anticipation. You checked it once, twice, turning the pages with careful fingers. The sketchbook wasn't filled, it would take too long to do so, but at least half of the pages inside it held some kind of scribble. Art pieces of various styles and levels of progression, some much more detailed than others, some mere hasty lines put together to paint a dear image you wanted to keep for a while longer. All of them of him. A book filled with the pointy ears and pale hair you adored so much.
You could only hope he would adore it just as much.
It was early in the morning and the day had yet to properly start. Most of your companions were still tucked away in their tents, some huddled around the burned logs of the fire from last night, coffee mugs in their hands and a sleepy look on their faces. You were never much of an early bird yourself, but today you made a point of rising before Astarion—you were lucky he'd picked back up the habit of sleeping and wasn't much of an early bird himself.
Hugging the sketchbook to your chest, you padded back to the warmth of his tent. As you opened the flaps, you were greeted with the sight of soft slivers of sunlight coming through the thinner part of the tent's fabric, they glimmered over Astarion's laying form, kissing his pale skin and making it shine.
You could easily get used to it; waking up to him, watching as the early morning rays painted his features golden, small wisps of dust flying in the air only giving him that bit more magical touch.
Astarion had his back to you, so you quietly kneeled beside him, extending a hand to run through his mess of curls; oh how soft they were, molding in between your fingers like seafoam on the shore. You counted yourself remarkably privileged.
You placed the sketchbook behind you so you could lie down, only keeping yourself up on one elbow. Your lips found his temple and the elf lightly stirred in his sleep. You kissed the tip of his ear next, waking him up gently. Always gently. He deserves gentleness.
With a hoarse groan, Astarion turned around to face you. He blinked several times as his ruby eyes adjusted to the soft sunlight, his face adorably scrunched from sleep. An easy, small smile appeared on his lips as soon as his gaze landed on you.
You weren't an early bird, yet you came to love the mornings, if only for this sight alone.
"Good morning, my star," you said quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the moment, still twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers.
He chuckled, "Good morning, beautiful." His voice all husky and deep, one hand finding your waist and trailing all the way up to your neck to pull you closer.
You kissed the corner of his lips and then the apple of his cheek, and Astarion's hold on you only grew tighter, pulling you on top of him. A welp escaped you as you laughed, nuzzling his neck before baring your teeth and giving him a playful nibble.
"Ow, you menace!" The vampire gasped halfheartedly, holding back a grin.
You pulled back from him with the ghost of a smile, bracing yourself on his chest. "I've got something to tell you."
His expression shifted to something you couldn't quite decipher, but he quickly masked it with a teasing tilt of his brows; "Oh? Are you gonna confess your undying love for me?" Both his hands brushed along the sides of your waist, gingerly raising your shirt as his pinkie grazed your skin.
"I thought we'd gone over that part already?" You teased back with a glint in your eyes, pushing yourself back up to sit beside him.
A whimper of complaint escaped Astarion when you separated, but he sat up with you anyway; his hair askew and all over the place, cheeks with the faintest flush to them, eyes just a little droopy, and… a strange stiffness to his shoulders. "What is it, my love?" He wondered, scrunching his nose endearingly when a piece of lint grazed it.
You squirmed in your seat; heart burning hotter than Karlach's in your chest, valves working overtime as the connection you shared enveloped you whole. You haven't actually told him how much you loved him, the four-lettered word hadn't been brought up yet, mostly for fear of the weight it held. But you wanted to, you've been feeling it for a while now.
"Well? Don't leave me in suspense," Astarion chuckled, but the sound didn't feel quite right to your ears, his smile wasn't reaching his eyes. And as you looked at him—one of his hands gripping tightly onto the fabric of his bedroll while the other tapped his knee incessantly; the ruby of his eyes almost nonexistent, covered by shiny black pupils as he looked intently at you, gaze filled with sentiment and vulnerability—you could notice it there now, that lingering fear of solitude gripping at his chest.
For a moment, you berated yourself, for you knew you'd spent quite some time on your little project, and maybe it had affected your routine more than you cared to admit. You felt a nagging guilt and sorrow for making Astarion even consider the possibility of loneliness again.
You tried shrugging it off. It would be worth it—and you'd be showering him with love and affection in just a moment anyway.
"I made something for you." The words rolled off your tongue more easily than you thought they would. You reached behind you with unsteady hands, heart in your mouth as you held onto your breath.
Astarion stared intently at the black sketchbook that was now clasped between your hands. He looked up at you, and back down, lips pursed in confusion.
"Ever since you told me… you haven't seen yourself in so long," you started, voice gentle as your thumbs traced the leather cover of the book. "And asked me how I saw you. I- I kept thinking about it and… when I found this," you wiggled the sketchbook in the air, "I guess I found a way of showing you…"
You extended the book for him to take, lowering your voice to a near whisper; "how I see you."
A short, trembled gush of air went past Astarion's lips. It was a difficult task to get him speechless, yet you had done it. He said nothing as he ever so carefully took the book from your hands, holding it as if the smallest wrong move could break it.
You watched as his throat worked through a heavy gulp, his eyes shining bright under the faint sunlight, swimming in a pool of sentiment and he hadn't even opened the book yet. Or properly looked at it, for that matter; his eyes still trailed on your face, as if waiting for confirmation that you meant it. Only when you gave him a tiny nod, did he finally look down. It hit you hard that this was probably the first gesture of this kind that he had received in his long life.
Shaky, pale hands reached to turn the first page. He hesitated for only a moment, almost looking afraid. About to see himself after 200 years of living as a ghost.
The first drawing you had made in the book wasn't your best, now that you looked down at it again; a simple portrait of Astarion looking down at a book in his hands, a little rough around the edges, hardly detailed. It had been your first try after not drawing for quite some time.
A beat passed, and a drop of water landed on the bottom corner of the page. You whipped your head up, only to see rogue tears steadily dripping down Astarion's cheeks until they reached his chin and fell on his lap. He cried silently, barely moving; the only signs being the obvious tears and the quivering of his lower lip.
He turned each page as if they were made from the purest gold. Stopping at every single drawing of him, to take it all in. He traced his fingertips over the lines that formed the curves of his curls, the tips of his ears, and the slope of his nose and lips.
People had referred to him as many things already; sexy, alluring, charming, attractive. Never had any of them referred to him as something… precious, delicate, bewitching, more than just a pretty face. Yet that's exactly how he saw himself now, through your eyes.
Astarion took his time, never speaking once. You let him, making yourself comfortable beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, simply existing in each other's presence.
Several minutes had gone by when the elf finally spoke up again. He was finally on the last used page of the book, and when the next appeared in white he slowly closed the book, still grasping onto it reverently. "For a moment I- I thought you'd grown tired of me already," it was the first thing he told you, and he refused to meet your eyes. A humorless chuckle fell past his lips, trying to laugh off his feelings.
You raised your head from his shoulder, lifting a hand to tenderly brush long strands of silver hair behind his ear; as you did so, you allowed your fingers to travel further, burying in the mop of hair behind his head. "Never. Never in a million years," you whispered.
Astarion met your gaze at last, ruby eyes glimmering with unshed tears while dried tracks of the ones before still lingered on his cheeks. This was the real Astarion; fragile, vulnerable, pleading for a gentle love, yet so beautifully strong.
"I'm sorry, my star. For allowing that thought to plague you. I just wanted this to be a surprise." You leaned forward and touched your forehead with his for a brief moment, hoping to bend the rules and physically give him your love.
"You made this," Astarion's voice broke in the middle, yet his smile was the most sincere you'd ever witnessed, "For me."
Catching a single tear that rolled down his cheek, you nodded, with a smile of your own.
There was a beat, a moment of silence where you simply looked at each other, wondering if the other felt just as much. And you didn't need a tadpole connection to confirm it.
Astarion set the sketchbook aside before all but throwing himself at you. Both his arms encircled your waist with desperation as he buried his head in your neck. His lips drew sloppy patterns and raised goosebumps in your skin as he kissed you relentlessly, from shoulder, to neck, to jaw; until he finally reached your own lips.
You brought your arms around him, pulling him in until your very souls were intertwined. Giggles escaped your lips as he kissed you, the shape of both your smiles making it difficult and all the more delightful.
When you parted, Astarion had you pinned down on his bedroll, with him resting snuggly on top of you. He refused to let go, clingy as he'd never dreamt he'd be. Your hand buried in his hair, his nose brushed the skin of your collar bone. "I had asked the gods for salvation, for any kind of blessing, countless times before. I could never guess it would come in the shape of you." He breathed in. He didn't hesitate. "Thank you. I love you."
You felt his smile. Felt the shape of his words on your skin, your soul. You kissed his hairline. "And I love you."
⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3
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Howdy! It's me again
How are you? I hope you are fine, and if not, then I encourage you from here!
Well, I would like to order something in which our dear Willy gets a little jealous because someone entered the factory and started flirting with his partner (reader) And that leads to a very affectionate moment between reader and Willy
Por cierto, qué le pones a los pedidos que escribes? Los siento muy emocionantes y me ponen a chillar a veces SJSGGWUW
(By the way, what do you put in the orders you write? I find them very exciting and they make me scream sometimes)
.—🌻
Tensions in the Factory [W. W]
Willy Wonka x fem!reader
word count: 1.7k
nota: ¡me hace muy feliz que te guste lo que escribo! creo que sólo se trata de hacerlo con amor (¿o algo así? jaja) Lamento haber tardado, entré a un trabajo durante vacaciones y apenas me queda tiempo, pero espero que sea de tu agrado, girasol:)
[ENG: It makes me very happy that you like what I write! I think it's just about doing it with love (or something like that? haha) I'm sorry it took me so long, I started a job during vacation and I barely have time left, but I hope you like it, sunflower:)]
taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]
“Your factory is impressive, Mr. Wonka,” said the man next to the boy, with a satisfied smile on his face after the tour he had given him.
Willy was pleased with the investor's recognition that he intended to finance a new branch for Wonka chocolates and if everything continued as expected, he knew that that same afternoon they would be signing a contract.
“I'm glad you like it. This is where all the magic happens, so I hope that with that new store things are even more promising for us.”
He wanted to add something else when, suddenly, he was interrupted by the vision of a person; it was you, beckoning to him from the other side of the factory with a board holding papers. He knew it had to be something important or else you would have waited, so he apologized to the young man at his side and walked quickly until he reached you.
“Oh, I'm sorry to bother you, but one of the machines that churns the chocolate is jammed and making a mess in there, do you think you can check it?” you murmured, sounding slightly worried about the situation.
“Yes, I'll go right away. While you will talk to Mr. Salt? Tell him to excuse me for a moment”
"Yes, I will do it"
“You're an angel, thank you for letting me know,” he said goodbye, gently caressing the side of your face and practically running to solve the problem you had just told him about.
The man looking at you curiously from the other side couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than Willy and he was handsome, dressed in a gray formal suit that was worthy of a businessman. You had heard that he had a lot of money and although at first the chocolatier was not very convinced, after thinking about it better he believed that it was a good time to expand his horizons; that included having more stores to sell more chocolates. He had told you about the idea and you had been excited about it, so you motivated him to contact interested businessmen.
Although you didn't really enjoy talking to strangers, you took a deep breath and walked over to where the man was to greet him.
“Mr. Salt?” you said timidly, to get his attention. He watched you for a moment and when he got a better look at you, then he smiled hugely.
“Just call me Henry, Henry Salt. It's my pleasure," he replied, reaching out to shake your hand a little longer than expected. "Are you Mr. Wonka's secretary?"
It wasn't the first time a guy thought that about you, after all you were always behind your boyfriend with that board in your hand, writing things down, checking the operation, and reminding him of everything, however, Willy had always said that you were his partner and he wouldn't expect anyone to disparage your position: this factory belongs to both of us, he always said.
But it was easier to say yes than to explain all that.
“Something like that. He asked me to tell you that he had to attend to an emergency, but that he will be right back.”
"Oh, sure. There is no problem with it as long as you keep me company” he said happily.
The man was looking at you up and down, as if you were the most interesting thing he had seen in the factory so far, but you didn't notice it, because you were too focused on the thought of how Willy was handling the machinery.
“Did you like the factory?” you exclaimed, trying to get a topic of conversation that would kill the silence that had enveloped you.
You could tell that he was an educated man, because he immediately started talking to you about the structure of the building, finances, what a good investment it would be to open a branch and also about how much he loved chocolate.
“I have a daughter named Veruca. She is just a baby, but I hope to be able to give her everything she wants in the future. I only plan to work to fulfill her whims”
“Ow, that's sweet,” you tried to flatter. At least his motives were noble.
“She looks a little like you, actually. You are very beautiful"
You had to admit that the comment threw you off, but you still laughed nervously. Maybe he was just trying to be nice to you, so you could persuade Willy to close the deal with that man.
“Huh, I appreciate it, Mr. Salt.”
“What are your favorite chocolates? I imagine that being here you eat them in droves, right?” he murmured.
You hoped that with that the conversation would take a different direction, so you started talking to him about all the types of chocolates that Willy prepared for you: the sweet ones, some salty ones, the magical ones, the strange ones...
“But I think my favorites are definitely the mint chocolates. They may be simple, but Mr. Wonka prepares them in an exceptional way," you said dreamily, remembering that upon discovering it he had prepared an entire jar just for you.
“When the branch is open, you can stop by to eat all the mint chocolates you want. At a special price for special ladies”
You laughed at that, not so much out of desire but out of commitment to the potential client. Suddenly a hand was placed on your waist and when you turned in the direction of the body that had approached you, you noticed that it was who it could only be. You frowned slightly when you noticed that he was frowning, as if something had bothered him.
“I'm sorry I was late. Everything is in order now, would you like to accompany me inside, Mr. Salt?” he said. His voice sounded calm and stern, without that cheerful tone he always had, and he still had one hand planted firmly on your body.
“Of course,” the chocolatier made a sign for the opponent to start walking and he did not take his eyes off him at any time, noticing that Mr. Salt was looking at you with the same interest.
If he was unhappy with something, he didn't say it, and he just left a gentle kiss on your head.
“See you in a bit, okay?” You nodded and pushed him just a little, inviting him to follow the businessman you had just spoken to. He got lost down the hallway and you returned to your tasks, not imagining the feeling that was bubbling in your partner's chest.
“That man is a complete idiot.”
You were surprised to hear the boy use those words and, above all, by the furious tone with which he had expressed himself. You interrupted your tasks of making dinner to pay attention to him.
“Who are you talking about?
“From Mr. Salt, of course! I didn't sign the contract with him. Don't even think about it, he's a… a complete nutcase”
"What are you talking about? What happened?" you asked, completely surprised by what he was telling you. You put everything aside to approach him and held his face to analyze his expression: it was extremely strange to see him this upset “Honey?”
“He was flirting with you! Don't think I didn't notice, when I left, he... he started talking to you that way. And not satisfied with that, he called you my assistant and then he hinted that he wanted a romance with you. He said punctually: I hope that, if I open this new branch, you will send your pretty assistant to help me with everything necessary” he was red with anger as he said that and he had to breathe for a moment to compose himself. "So I told him immediately that there was no deal if he dared to talk about my wife like that.”
There was too much to process at once. You felt disgusted at the idea that another man had shown interest in you, but at the same time you were surprised by how he had reacted. Willy wasn't a possessive husband, but right now you were feeling something strange about this side of him.
“You don't have to worry about that…”
“Of course I have to. You're beautiful and I'm sure everyone realizes that, but I won't let anyone look at you like he was looking at you. It is my job to protect you and that includes not entering into relationships with those who want to take advantage of you.”
He sounded sincere and passionate when he spoke, convincing you that he was very serious about the matter. Contrary to what he expected, you smiled and cupped his cheeks again to kiss him on the lips. He melted at the touch, you knew it by the way his shoulders completely relaxed and his hands came up to hold your elbows during the seconds you were kissing him.
Once he was more relaxed, you spoke.
“It's all right, love. Can you calm down?” you asked him. Your hand began to gently caress his cheeks and your eyes looked pleading, something he couldn't resist. “You shouldn't have wasted such an opportunity, but... I appreciate that you rejected it. For me"
“I would do anything for you,” he said immediately. Suddenly he felt the urge to kiss you again and he did, deeply and lovingly. You didn't resist.
“You're my only boy, you know that? No one in the world could take me from your arms”
“That's not my fear, I know that nothing can separate us” he assured you, smiling from ear to ear. That's how sure he was about yours, that agreed with the pair of rings on your fingers “Besides, there will be more opportunities, you don't have to feel guilty about anything.”
“I don’t,” you exclaimed, to reassure him. You knew he had done the right thing and you loved him for it “Are you hungry? I'm making you something for dinner” you confessed and then he nodded.
He could smell what you were cooking and when you reached out to stir the contents of the saucepan with a stick, he hugged you from behind, starting to talk about something more trivial than that failed business and feeling clearly relaxed, now that he knew he was and he would always be the only owner of your heart.
#wonka 2023#willy wonka x reader#wonka x reader#wonka movie#timothee chalamet#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee x reader#willy wonka#roald dahl#wonka fanfic#willy wonka 2023#wonka fanfiction#wonka x fem reader
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a different kind of exercise | ljn
personal trainer!jeno × fem!reader (18+ mdni)
summary: he just wanted to give you a private lesson.
a/n: sorry, that didn't go well as i wanted, but i didn't have anything planned for his bday and this ended up coming out 😭 i didn't like that one, but happy bday to jeno!
cw: smut, pwp, unprotected sex, petnames (baby/pretty)
jeno was not planning on this. yet he was glad it happened.
when he accepted to be your personal trainer, he didn't think much about it. you seemed like a genuine newbie in the gym, seeking legitimate help. unlike other people, you hadn't chosen him just because of his good looks, he could see that you actually wanted to learn.
he wasn't expecting much to come from your time together aside from some casual conversation during workouts and the occasional advice about exercising, but he found himself growing more interested in you than his purpose of teaching.
he didn't know why exactly, but he felt an attraction to you that he couldn't explain. sometimes he would even find himself acting like a pervert. and he knew that was wrong, but it was all somehow your fault.
he would often blame you for wearing those tight leggings that gripped onto your body like a second skin. he knew it wasn't fair to blame you for their existence, but he also couldn't help but be distracted by their form-fittedness.
but he was glad you wore them. he loved it when you folded forward, giving him a great view of your ass. he would make up some excuse about you doing it wrong just to get closer and hold your waist. he would press you against him and lean over you, telling you "how it should be done," while enjoying the feel of your body pressed against his. he enjoyed taking his time to "help you do it right" so that he could spend more time up close with your ass rubbing against his cock.
or when he is "helping you out" by adjusting your position and form while doing an exercise. he knew that wasn't necessary, but he used the excuse of "straightening you up" to sneak his hands around you. he would grab a handful of your breasts, pretending to position you properly to do the exercise but actually taking the chance to feel you up.
jeno would often find excuses to get close to you, brushing up against you or putting his hands on your body more often than necessary, always trying to touch you in subtle ways that he hoped you wouldn't notice.
and that was the best—or worst—part of it all. you were completely clueless about his actions, genuinely thinking it was just his way of teaching. honestly, it wasn't bothering you at all. in fact, you even secretly enjoyed it when he was "just teaching you" and getting a bit too close for comfort by holding you up and touching your body.
but still, for jeno, this was pure agony too. all he craved was to fuck you senseless until you were practically limping, but he couldn't just spit it out. ever since your sessions began, he caught himself fucking his fist at night thinking about you, he'd daydream about pounding into you, making you yell his name 'til you were hoarse.
gosh, he needed you so bad.
and so he made it.
it was easier than he thought. all he had to do was come with an excuse to get you to his house. saying he needed to "go over some information" about your exercises and "get more in-depth" with your routine, he asked you to come over to his place to "work through the details" of your activities.
he can't really remember how things escalated from telling you to make yourself comfortable to him pressing you up against the bed mattress with your legs around his waist while you cry out his name because of how good it feels to have his cock stretching your tight pussy.
“you feel so—god, so f-fucking good,” jeno’s hands grip your hips tightly as he thrusts deeper into you, his movements becoming more urgent with each passing second. your hands were gripping the sheet so tightly that your knuckles were white, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“y-you're so tight, baby,” he looked down to see where your bodies connected, watching as his length disappeared into your welcoming pussy.
"fuck, y/n... you take me so well,” he breathes heavily, trying to maintain control as you clench around him. "i could stay here forever,” his cock slamming into you with such force that you could feel it in your bones.
the sensation of him filling you up completely is almost too much to bear, but you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world right now.
jeno feels your body tensing up and your warm walls squeezing him again, making him groan. “are you close, pretty?” the only answer for his question were your loud moan and it was enough for him.
you gasp when he suddenly changes your position, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder and driving himself even deeper inside of you. the new angle hits all the right spots, and you feel yourself being stretched to the limit, even more sensitive as his hand slip down to rub your clit.
you starts to feel an orgasm building inside of you, which made you let a whine escape your lips. you didn't want this moment to end, but you know it's going to be explosive when it finally does. you focus on the sensation of him filling you up, on the sound of your bodies slapping together, and on the scent of sex in the air. it's a heady combination that sends you over the edge, you body shuddering and convulsing beneath his as you milk his cock.
jeno himself couldn’t hold back his own climax any longer, the way your face contorts in pure bliss as you come undone beneath him sends him over the edge. feeling his orgasm getting closer and closer, his thrusts became a little more messy, but still at the same pace. it felt so good he almost forgot to pull out, withdrawing just in time to cum on your thigh, his hot load sticking to your skin.
he falls onto the bed next to you, the only sound now is your heavy breathing as you both try to compose yourself. you continue to silently stare at the ceiling for a few more minutes before turning your head to look at him, just to find him already looking at you.
“so…” you begin. “same time next week?”
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Michael Myers/GN! Reader - NSFW
Here we go again with another Michael fic, this time it’s Kinktober and not just me horny posting on main LMFAO
This fic's prompt was Humping
WARNINGS: Michael humps you so nsfw, Michael pins the reader down but reader is into it. This is the tamest thing I’ve written in months so there’s not much else I can add warning wise.
It wasn't often that the massive man who occupied your home needed something from you other than basic necessities, but it was a nightmare trying to figure out when he did. Michael didn't talk and didn't bother trying other ways of communication, so he was basically a brick wall that moved around and routinely demanded food from you. Most days, when he'd decided that he wanted to be difficult, you'd struggle endlessly trying to figure out what he wanted, but this time you tried something different. Your plan was to give him a list of all of the things you could offer him at the moment, and then get him what he needed, simple enough. You went through the entire list, even adding things onto the list that you didn't even want to do, just to not get any response from him. After the second attempt, you didn't even bother anymore, instead staring at him in silence. He still didn't acknowledge you at all, not even by tossing an unopened piece of candy in your face like he normally would have. To say you were confused was an understatement, and you couldn't help but let fear crawl up your spine.
You didn't think he was sad or anything since he wouldn't be sitting on your couch clean if that were the case, and if he were hungry he would have already picked you up from your spot at the other end of the couch and placed you in front of the fridge. You slowly scooched over to him, keeping a safe distance just in case he was in one of his choking moods.
“Michael? You okay?”
Obviously, he didn't respond, and a part of you wanted to go back to your comfy spot and relax again, but you knew whatever his problem was would become a you problem if left alone. You reached out to touch his shoulder and Michael quickly took the opportunity to grab at your wrist and use his strength to twist you around and lay you flat on your stomach. You could only sigh uncomfortably, letting him adjust you to his liking before resting his body weight on you. You couldn’t stop him, you could only let your eyes widen slightly as you felt the source of his problems rest on your ass.
“oh.”
He huffed at you, grabbing your waist and seemingly feeling things out for a while. He didn't make much noise as he did this and only seemed to get impatient since he couldn't properly help himself. You sat in silence for a moment, contemplating whether or not to help him or let his frustration get the better of him, which would most likely end up with someone's dead relative on the news the next moring. You sighed again, you were not going to let innocent people die all because the infamous Michael Myers couldn’t figure out how to hump you properly.
You arched your back, trying to angle yourself into a good position to make things easier for him. You succeeded in this, as the next time Michael grinded against you he let out the shakiest of sighs. You couldn't help but feel accomplished as he quickly found a rhythm; you also couldn't help the fact that with every low groan Michael let out above you, you felt a shock of pleasure hit you where it counts.
He suddenly repositioned, now using one hand to grab onto your hip tightly and the other was placed above your head for stability. He picked up the pace as he humped you, the change in stance now giving him the friction he needed, and you could hear how much he enjoyed it. Low groans, grunts, and occasional growls left his mouth and left you a silent mess. You didn't know he would be so noisy but you couldn't care less, as every sound that spilled from his mouth you happily relished in, letting your mind wander to places you wouldn't have dared think about before this moment.
You felt his humping become sloppy, and listened to his groans turn into huffs as he got closer to cumming. Suddenly, he came crashing down on top of you, his arms now positioned above your head and his body completely engulfing yours, still humping you desperately as he almost silently whimpered at the feeling.
Once he stopped moving, he breathed heavily above you, and you relaxed your body, muscles slightly sore from holding the position for so long. The peace only lasted a short moment before Michael got up, not caring about you resting underneath him. You could only peek at him as he walked to the bathroom, catching a quick glimpse of the dark spot on the sweatpants he was wearing.
You sat up slowly, the only things on your mind at the moment were mentally reviewing everything that happened for fuel on lonesome nights, and the creeping suspicion that this might become a regular occurrence. Either way, the result of either thought didn't bother you. In fact, the thought of the big bad Michael Myers humping you as if his life depended on it was something you quietly hoped for.
#rz michael myers#michael myers#slasher fanfiction#slashers x reader#michael myers x reader#rz halloween#Gogotti’s Kinktober#kinktober
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Genshin Guys with an S/O Dealing with Sensory Overload (Wriothesley, Diluc, Alhaitham, Neuvillette)
Please note that this is all from my experience. Obviously not everyone is going to experience it like this. Basically this is me shamelessly self-inserting again. I mean, what's new?
I'm going to format this as kind of scenarios in bullet point form, rather than my usual
CW: hurt/comfort, neurodivergent reader
Wriothesly x gn!reader, Diluc x gn!reader, Alhaitham x gn!reader, Neuvillette x gn!reader
Requests and Ask Box is OPEN
Wriothesley
Sensory overload isn't really that uncommon around Wriothesly
And it's not because he's loud or anything, but the Fortress of Meropide isn't a quiet place. I imagine there's always a lot of little sounds even at night. Stuff like dripping pipes, hissing steam, little things
And even if you're not hanging out at Fortress, the city isn't even much quieter
Thankfully he's the perceptive, people-smart type so there's no way in hell sensory overload is getting past him
Tight fists, pinched eyebrows, flinching at loud noises, yeah, he ain't missin' that shit
When he notices you doing that he's quick to finish whatever conversation he's in and bringing you to a quieter location
He's either soundproofed his room or set aside some space in the fortress where you can be alone in the quiet. If you need music to avoid complete and total quiet he has some soft records for you to listen to
Diluc
Diluc has an easier time dealing with the sensory overload
When the day has left you worn out, overloaded, and on edge, wincing at even soft noises, you seek out Diluc
Of course, if you're helping/hanging out at the Angel's Share, chances are he's already at least noticed your reactions to the ambient chaos
If he can't get away from the bar, he hands you the keys to his room and tells you to go rest, that he'll be up when he's free
At the Winery, he's left instructions that even if he's not there, you should be brought to a quiet out of the way room (ehem, his room) and given whatever you need
In either location, as soon as he's free he's coming to make sure you're alright. He usually has something for your headache, knowing that you've probably got one
If you let him, he'll want to hold you, rubbing circles into your shoulder. But if you need space, he'll leave you be once
More than anything he's intent on making any of his spaces safe and comfortable for you
Alhaitham
Alhaitham is an asshole and doesn't people, but when it comes to sensory overload he's 100% sympathetic
I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it's something he deals with on the regular
It's also not something you can hide from him (in fact you might go to him because he's a quiet person who has no issues telling anyone who would bother you to go sit on it)
The first thing he does is kick whoever he's talking to out of the room. Unlike Wrio, he doesn't bother wrapping up the conversation, he just tells them to leave
If you're at his house, Kaveh gets told to find a different room to occupy and Kaveh actually listens (I mean, Kaveh is a nice guy who isn't going to be mean to you just to give his roommate the metaphorical middle finger. Really, neither of them are.)
Once he's gotten rid of any annoyances, he's handing over his headphones
He also helps darken the room your in (modifications Kaveh helped with--I feel like both of them are far more willing to accommodate you than each other, even if it means working together)
After that, he just leaves you alone. If you have a headache, he'll find something to help, but he just goes to read
If you're in a place where he can't just shoo people away and remove any offending sensations, he goes out of his way to comfort you (which took him forever to figure out how to do, but he likes you so it's worth the effort). Even if it's just lending you headphones while he takes you by the hand and leads you through the city
Neuvillette
Honestly, it takes Neuvie a while to get used to a S/O who is prone to Sensory Overload
He's not human and is very much accustomed to the chaos of the Opera Epiclese, Palais Mermonia, and Fontaine City in general
So when Sedene lets you in to Neuvie's office (he's left instructions that unless he's in a conversation you can't be privy to, you're just to be let in) and you're nearly in tears, he's very concerned
Anything he's doing is immediately set to the side so he can figure out what's wrong
When he figures out that your brain just can't process any more input without feeling like it's about to spontaneously combust, he's a little confused, but he focuses more on how to help you
First things first, he has you hydrate while he tells Sedene to not let anyone in unless it's an emergency and finishes up whatever he's doing. If you're not feeling well, he wants to be able to focus his attention on you
Then he takes you somewhere quieter and darker
Eventually, much like Diluc and Wrio, he sets aside a place for you to go. He makes sure you can keep it as dark and quiet as you want, while making sure any sensory things you gravitate to are easily accessed
On days where you decide to take a nap, it's not uncommon to see him wrapped around you, letting his naturally cool temperature soothe you
#I think I am going to forgo commentary cuz my brain is fried#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x gn!reader#wriothesley hcs#Diluc#diluc ragnvindr#diluc x reader#Diluc x gn!reader#Alhaitham#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham x gn!reader#Diluc hcs#alhaitham hcs#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette#neuvillette x gn!reader#neuvillette hcs#gender neutral reader#neurodivergent reader#genshin imapct#genshin impact hcs
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I’ve binge read your blog tonight! Amazing! I was hoping your requests are open if not please ignore this message 😊
What about astarion x tav reader , who’s an artist - astarion who’s dying to look in a mirror but she depicts him perfectly , possibly angst to fluff? Feel free to take this prompt any which way, I thought this would be wholesome 😊
Aww, that's so cute!
This reminds me of that comic that's floating around here with Tav drawing him and Astarion, not knowing what he looks like anymore, looking over their shoulder like "ooooh you got a crush on this random man we don't know. who is he?" So I mixed that vibe in here!
This is set just a bit before he realizes he's in love with you because I love that for him.
~
Astarion wasn't worried. He wasn't obsessed, he was just intrigued. Curious even, mildly perplexed at worst. Because he had no idea why he kept catching you drawing the same elf time and time again. And you refused to tell him why.
Now, in all fairness you did occasional sketch out other members of your group. Not everyone, just the few who had the patience to stay still while you worked. Wyll, Shadowheart, Halsin. It was a passion of yours, your art, something that Astarion always liked about you. It helped that you were fantastic at it. You're drawings were so life-like, capturing nearly every feature on their faces. They always left Astarion sincerely impressed, the few times he had managed to see them. Because for someone so talented, you were oddly secretive about your sketchbook.
Now that didn't exactly stop Astarion from seeing them. There were the times he would shamelessly watch you over your shoulder, only leaving when you noticed him and started flailing to cover up your work. He also took the opportunity to occasionally steal it from your tent while you were gone without him, a consequence of you trusting him. He had warned you about that, hadn't he?
You really did create beautiful work. From picturesque scenery to your famous portraits. Though it seemed you had a favorite subject, that damned unnamed elf. You knew the man well enough to draw him from memory it seemed, because Astarion would have remembered running into that face.
Why you never asked the man you're sleeping with to model for you instead of this stranger, he wasn't quite sure. But it was starting to bother him. It didn't help that he was objectively handsome, attractive in a semi-mysterious way. It was even worse that you would start blushing and stuttering whenever he asked about him. You wouldn't even give him a name, just vague stumblings.
"He's um, from Baldur's Gate," You had mentioned once, completely avoiding Astarion's eyes, "It's um. Not important."
"So you'll be introducing us soon then?" Astarion had asked, half-hopeful that you'd deny it. His life would be a lot easier if the mystery man turned out to be a long-dead lover.
But instead you just gave him a shaky nod, "I-sure. Y-Yeah. One day."
And you had left it at that, staying infuriatingly vague whenever he brought the subject up.
Astarion wasn't worried. He wasn't. Or maybe he was, purely off the fact that it couldn't be healthy to be so obsessed with one man's face. Especially if the man in question wasn't him.
Astarion was aware that he was attractive. He had to be for everything he'd gotten away with over the years. But he literally could not know how he matched up to this... random stranger. Who, by the way, had done nothing to help you while you had a mind flayer parasite trapped in your head. Astarion certainly had that over him at least. But he wasn't quite sure if he matched up in... other areas.
Astarion wasn't exactly used to being self-conscious. At least not when it came to his appearance. The ability had been taken away from the second Cazador got his fangs into his neck. He still thought about it, often in fact, that he had no idea what he looked like. But the enamored responses he usually received by existing quelled most worries.
Now though... now he had to wonder. And he wasn't a fan of the feeling.
He hadn't wanted to ask for your help in seeing himself, he was hoping that you would have offered on your own by now. But since that was clearly not happening, Astarion had to bring matters into his own hands.
He watched as you fiddled away in your sketchbook, suddenly obsessed with replicating the tassels on his favorite pillow. According to you it was one of the few things you didn't know how to draw perfectly, despite it looking just fine to everyone else. Astarion supposed that the artist mind just worked in mysterious, semi-frustrating ways. Ways that he frankly did not understand.
"How would you feel about drawing me sometime?" Astarion asked suddenly, his brows going up to his hairline at how the simple question made you flinch, "No offense darling but I do believe I'm more interesting than a few tufts of string."
You weren't looking at him as you answered, still scribbling away with now-shaky hands, "I-um, I'm not sure if you'd want me to-"
"Why ever not? Frankly my dear I'm a little offended you haven't asked me to model. It would be nice to be aware of what my own face looked like."
That at least got your eyes up. You looked oddly guilty, fiddling with your pencil, "I-shit. I'm sorry. I should have thought about that."
"It's fine," Astarion said with a wave of his hand. He was used to being a last priority, he didn't take offense, "Besides, you can make it up to me now. What do you say?"
You swallowed, avoiding his eyes as you nodded, "Y-Yeah. I can do that. Um, sit up a little for me?"
Astarion listened, excitement starting to crawl up his spine. He was actually going to see his own face again, for the first time in centuries. All because of the person he love-cared for. Cared for deeply. Who still made him borderline beg for the privilege but oh well. Beggars couldn't be choosers. He had learned that lesson many times.
It took a long time before you were finished, nearly three hours. Not that he minded, if anything he appreciated how seriously you were taking it. And who knows. Maybe if his face managed to be interesting enough, you'd abandon your other muse in favor of him. He could only hope.
"Okay," You said eventually, setting your pencil to the side, "It's done. But... just don't laugh, okay?"
Astarion barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes, "Is my appearance that amusing?"
"No but-gods, here. Just look at it," You said, tossing the sketchbook to him, "Be gentle."
Astarion caught it, excited to hells and back as he looked down. Only to find the exact same elf he'd been seeing for weeks. Except this was more detailed than all of the ones from before. He could see... everything. The scars from that dreaded first night with Cazador, two barely there moles on the right side of his face, the exact flow of his hair. He was beautiful, a fact he was aware of, but it was still nice to see. He just... hadn't realized how many times he had seen it.
Astarion swallowed, looking up at you with wide eyes, "You've been drawing me? This whole time? I've been your 'mystery man' from Baldur's gate?"
You shrugged, picking on a string on your pants instead of looking at him, "You make a good subject. And we spend a lot of time together. And... I should have told you when you first saw it. But I just...." You trailed off with a sigh, finally gathering your courage enough to look him in the eye, "I didn't want to freak you out. I know it's a bit... creepy. I guess I didn't want you to know just... how obsessed I was. Or am."
It made sense. In all honesty, the Astarion from mere months ago probably would have found a way to find offense. But now it just felt... sweet. It made him feel warm, and incredibly idiotic. Here he had been, fretting over his non-existent competition. While this whole time he was the one constantly invading your mind. It was a strangely validating feeling. Almost like maybe... you would still want him when all of this was said and done.
He hadn't started this relationship with that in mind. In a perfect world, he'd use you to kill Cazador, cure himself of the tadpoles, gain his own freedom, then be on his merry way, you're feelings on the matter be damned. And he was actualizing that plan perfectly, if this new news was anything to go by.
So why was it suddenly making him feel ill? You had been nothing but kind to him. Accepting, trusting, all to someone who deserved less than dirt. And what would this all end in. Him abandoning you after everything you'd done?
Or maybe... it was about leaving before you had the chance to do the same.
"Do... do you not like it?" You asked, obviously nervous at his stunned silence. But it at least snapped him out of his own thoughts.
Astarion rushed to shake his head, going as far as to move to sit next to you. He took one of your hands in his, feeling uncomfortably sincere as he spoke, "I love it. Thank you for doing this for me. Thank you for all of them. I am more than happy to be your muse darling. There's nothing I'd like more."
"Really?" You asked, looking so hopeful it made his heart clench in his chest.
"Really," Astarion said, moving to cup your cheek, "But I will be expecting payment for my services. I hope you realize you'll be sleeping here tonight."
"No complaints here," You murmured, right before his lips touched yours. You were smiling into the kiss, sweet enough to make Astarion want to scream.
Just what had he gotten himself into with you?
#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#baldur's gate 3#asks#silly little things#i love astarion pre before he realizes fully he's in love#silly little vampire man
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Asmo: Hon? Is there a reason why you keep on staring onto the ceiling?
MC: ...
Asmo: ...
Satan: They're not going to answer you, Asmo. *flipping the page on his book*
Asmo: How can you be so calm? MC's awake, but they're ignoring us.
Satan: It's better this way. At least we know they're aware and conscious.
Asmo: ...
Asmo: Satan, are you alright?
Satan: Yes. Why do you ask?
Asmo: Nothing... Just...
Asmo: ...
Satan: You're on kitchen duty today. You should be going now.
Asmo: ...
Asmo: Okay. *looks at MC before he heads outside* Hon? Is there something you like? I'll cook it for you.
MC: ...
Asmo: ...
Asmo: O-Oh... Okay. I'll just bring you something... *then leaves the room*
Satan: ...
Satan: MC, is it really difficult for you to acknowledge that we're here?
MC: ...
MC: *slowly turns their head at him*
MC: I would appreciate it if you wouldn't bother me while I'm communicating with the owner. You're being disrespectful right now.
Satan: !!!
MC: Ah. Right. You all are so used to being pampered that you thought your needs are more important than anybody.
Satan: MC—
MC: They shouldn't have created a path for you to walk on.
MC: When you have led them to a dead end.
MC: *stops then stares back at the ceiling*
Satan: ...
Lucifer: Solomon.
Solomon: Yes, I've heard.
Lucifer: I think it would be easier now to fix them. MC has a sudden change in personality, but it is not an issue to any of us.
Solomon: ...
Lucifer: ...
Lucifer: Solomon.
Solomon: Sorry. I was thinking about something.
Lucifer: ...
Lucifer: Is it still about Thirteen?
Solomon: Yes.
Lucifer: Once Thirteen sees the improvement of MC's condition, I'm sure she will have the change of heart.
Solomon: I really hope so.
Diavolo: I'm not surprised. *after Lucifer told him that the relationship between Solomon and Thirteen had been ruined*
Lucifer: But then, sacrifices have to be made.
Barbatos: ...
Diavolo: Barbatos? Is there something wrong? You have been silent for a while.
Barbatos: It's nothing, young master.
Lucifer: ...
Lucifer: By the way, Diavolo. MC has been acknowledging me day by day. They would follow me with their gaze even though I disappeared from their sight. *smiles in satisfaction*
Diavolo: Ah! That seems like a great news!
Lucifer: Indeed it was.
Barbatos: ...
MC: *smiles to themselves*
Luke: MC?
MC: Ah, Luke. Is there something I can help you with?
Luke: No. *smiles* But I noticed that you were smiling.
MC: Well, I just feel happy to be able to talk to you like this again, Luke. *ruffling his hair*
Luke: *giggles*
Simeon: Luke?
Luke: !!!
Luke: S-Simeon?!
Simeon: *who has entered the room, confused* *looks around* Were you talking to someone?
Luke: Yes! MC has returned!
Simeon: ...
Simeon: Luke. *then smiles at him understandably*
Simeon: Should we go to the garden?
Luke: Hm! *looking at MC* You should go with us, MC!
Simeon: Luke. *kneels in front of him* You're free to think and believe that MC is here. If that helps you to feel better.
Luke: What are you talking about? MC is really here, Simeon!
MC: ...
Simeon: Luke—
Luke: MC is standing next to you! Why are you ignoring them?!
Simeon: Luke—
MC: Luke. *shakes their head*
Luke: But—
MC: He will not be able to see me.
Luke: *his eyes widened*
Simeon: Luke?
Luke: ...
Luke: Sorry, Simeon. I'll just stay here...
Simeon: I see... Well then. *stood up and leaves the room*
Luke: ...
Luke: Why can't he?
MC: *kneels in front of him; holding both of his hands*
MC: Simeon has given me peace. *smiling*
Luke: Are you not only saying that so I wouldn't be mad at him? Because to me, he has decided to forget you.
MC: I'll be honest to you... I don't think I'll be able to face him anyway.
Luke: ...
Luke: So if I had accepted that you were gone—
MC: Yes.
Luke: ...
Luke: I'm glad that I didn't.
MC: *holds his cheek with one hand* *smiles kindly to him*
MC: ...
MC: *murmurs*
Beel: *who's in charge of watching over them*
Beel: Is the real MC in danger?
MC: *looks at him*
MC: ...
MC: I'm surprised. You're different from the others.
Beel: ...
Beel: I had been with MC for quite some while.
Beel: So... You said something earlier. You said that they should be careful.
MC: Yes. I think that if they stay up there for much longer, there will be nothing left.
Beel: Up... there?
MC: Hm-hm. Up there.
MC: There's danger.
Beel: ...
Beel: How sure are you?
MC: ...
MC: *smiling for the first time* *but in an eerie way*
MC: I could feel it.
MC: The same thing they felt before.
MC: But much worse. *laughs*
Beel: !!!
Raphael: Michael, there's something I would like to—
Michael: *dancing to a doll that has an uncanny resemblance to MC*
Raphael: ...
Michael: Have you found them?
Raphael: ...No.
Michael: What a pity.
Raphael: What is that, Michael?
Michael: A new body of theirs. But this is nothing more than a cage for them that I designed.
Michael: Looks beautiful, doesn't it?
Raphael: ...
Raphael: Why would you need something like that?
Michael: Hm? I need something for them to trap to. Isn't that obvious?
Michael: Oh. You don't need to worry.
Michael: I made sure it wouldn't be like the first one we had.
Raphael: But this is—
Michael: *pulls the doll closed to him* This one might look fragile, but they will never be able to break this one.
Raphael: ...
#obey me#obey me nightbringer#obey me mc#obey me lucifer#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me satan#obey me beel#obey me solomon#obey me luke#obey me simeon#obey me raphael#obey me michael#obey me asmo
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I can't remember if I already requested this or not, so I'm sorry if you've already received this.
It's a but dark, but I'd like to request Munchausen's syndrome by proxy with yandere Miguel. Like he finds out reader is thinking of breaking up with him, so he purposely makes her sick so she'll have to depend on him and can't leave. Maybe including a caretaker kink with it?
Thank you!
Love Sick- (Yandere!Miguel x Reader)
Warnings; Munchausen's syndrome by proxy (Miguel to Reader), unhealthy dependency, yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, caretaker kink, possessive Miguel,
~~~~~~~~
"Just rest, Querida."
Miguel cooed gently to you, petting your cheek in an affectionate manner as he used the back of his hand to test your temperature. He seemed to grimace in response to how warm you must have felt to him, though you didn't feel particularly warm in any way. The way he turned to the medicine on the side table made you wonder just when this mysterious illness was going to finally fade away.
You had been thinking about returning to your timeline and universe, despite the unusual way you wound up in Miguel's universe. One of the anomalies dragged you to Miguel's universe where he came to your aid and caught you up to speed on the work he did. Apparently the way back to your universe had closed up in such a way that you wouldn't be able to return for quite some time. While you waited to return to your reality, Miguel managed to charm you and he clearly wanted to pursue a relationship with you.
The two of you were good together and all of the Spider people spoke of how good you were for Miguel. One day Jess offhandedly mentioned your universe showing back up and you had to excitedly bother Miguel about it. He acted happy but unbeknownst to you, he was thinking of how to keep you with him in a more permanent manner.
The day you were planning on returning to your own timeline, you fell suddenly ill. At first you tried to convince Miguel that you could still go, but he insisted that you remain in bed and get 'much needed' rest. Since then, you had been stuck with your ever adoring boyfriend taking care of you.
Some days you seemed to improve and could do things yourself, other days you were so weak you could barely get out of bed. There were days you felt well enough to ask Miguel to take you to your original timeline, but he would always insist you wait a day to see if you truly did feel better, and your illness would come back with full force before the next twenty-four hours.
"But... I feel like I'm being a burden."
"Not to me, you're not. I want you to be healthy and I'm not going to just abandon you because you have been ill. In sickness and in health, sí?"
"That's marriage, Miguel. We're dating."
"Ay, close enough. The point still stands, taking care of you is not a burden to me."
You smiled at this, holding his hand and lightly kissing his palm with a happy hum. Even though he risked getting ill as well, he always comforted and held you at night. Anything he could do to make your life easier seemed to be taken up in stride.
"I am so lucky you found me, Miguel."
"I'm the lucky one, (Y/n). And I consider myself lucky every day you are by my side."
You smiled when he kissed your forehead, feeling his gentle lips against your skin. You let him hold you close as he slid into the bed next to you, holding you to his chest.
"I am so lucky to have you, and I'll never let go..."
#kiame-sama#yandere#x reader#yandere x reader#reader insert#tw yandere#yandere male#yandere miguel o'hara#yandere miguel x reader#yandere spiderman 2099#yandere spiderverse
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i’ve come back a lot sooner than i expected 🤭 hear me out.. 9th maknae member reader (skz) x Mingi (ateez) 🤯 Reader and mingi have been in a secret relationship for at least a year and both Companies are preparing on announcing their relationship to the public/fans. (it gets better 😼)
Both groups: (ateez + stray kids) don’t know that they’re dating 😱 The boys arranged a massive sleepover for both groups to hangout and reader gets really hot and bothered by mingi teasing her the whole night. They end up excusing themselves (sneakily) and they have the most mind blowing sex ever. All of the other boys over hear and were shocked 🤯 They act like nothing happened as they didn’t want to assume they were dating but later on at an award show it was finally announced that Mingi and Reader were dating. Skz boys went crazy and was practically babying their precious maknae 🫶🏻
kaci my favourite writer 🥰
(p.s sorry for how long this is 💀)
This one's been sitting for a while, mainly because it's already a wonderful thought as is! So, here's just a few thoughts to expand on it~
❣ Warnings: 9th Member! Reader + Song Mingi [Ateez], smut, fluff, slight humor ❣
❣ Additional tags: essentially a crossover for Staytiny all around the world~
While the rest of the members were in the living room, you would be bent over the bathroom sink with Mingi giving his all in rearranging your guts in the most quick yet efficient way possible - though, that way didn't include him being the quietest while doing so.
"Mm, jesus, fuck-"
"Mingi, be quiet."
You'd think he was the one currently getting his guts rearranged from the way he struggled to contain his moans, leading you to shoot him a warning glare through the reflection of the bathroom mirror.
"We might as well go and fuck in front of them if you're going to be this loud!" You seethed with a hushed scold, gripping the edge of the counter to keep your balance with his unwavering thrusts.
You could only hope that your combined groups were too occupied with the movie they were watching to notice you and Mingi missing.
Sharp eyes locked onto your own through the mirror, a sideways smirk stretching his lips, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? It's not like they don't suspect it anyways." Snapping his hips forward, he continued, "We can just give them a nudge in the right direction."
Biting back a moan, you dropped your head between your shoulders to focus on the orgasm he'd been teasing you toward since he arrived at your shared dorm; subtle grazes and risque touches keeping you wound up and ready for anything.
A hand found its way around your throat, pulling your body up at an angle so that your gaze met his once more; captivating and hypnotizing, yet still filled with a love that had you falling for him all over again.
"I love you," the words fell from his lips with ease, honest and true, "and I don't want to keep hiding it."
You were, too - he knew that better than anyone, and having to hide it not only from the world, but your band members, the closest people you have, had been eating you both up since day one.
Gripping his forearm, you nodded softly, "I love you too, baby - just a little l-longer to go."
His lips curled into a smirk before driving into you with a newfound fervor.
Neither of you would catch the knowing side eyes or smug smirks of your members when you each returned separately to the living room to catch whatever remained of the movie.
The 'little longer' would eventually come during an award show, with the thoroughly discussed plan between your managers and PR team of revealing the relationship to everyone during a collaborative performance.
Part of it was Mingi's plan to do a performance together, but with the way your schedules aligned, you figured doing it live as opposed to uploading it on youtube was the easier choice.
With the stage - quite literally - set, you and Mingi performed your arduously practiced routine in front of your fellow artists and hundreds of screaming fans, and as the song came to an end the moment you've been waiting for was upon you.
Getting ready for the ending pose, Mingi pulled you into his side and pressed a loving kiss to your temple, while you hugged him with a dazzling smile to the camera focused on you both - and to say the reactions were worth it would've been an understatement.
The wild screams of your colleagues and fans was enough to pierce through your earpiece, and shooting a glance into the idol space you could see all eight of your members going absolutely insane - sneaking a glance to the Ateez table to see almost a mirrored reaction.
Leaving the stage to take off your earpieces and mic packs, the return to the Stray Kids table was nothing short of a spectacle as Changbin swiftly wrapped his arm around your shoulders.
"You think you can just go off and get a boyfriend without telling us?! You're too young!"
"Innie and I are literally just a few months apart," you laughed, trying to pull away from his partial choke hold.
"Yeah, a few months too many! You're our baby!" Jisung all but wailed, squeezing your cheeks much to your dismay.
Seungmin scoffed, "The fact that we knew and you're still acting like this? Hyunjin's dramatics is rubbing off on you."
"Wait- You knew?!"
"It's not like the two of you were the sneakiest..." Minho's nonplussed tone made a wave of embarrassment wash over you, the memory of the movie night quickly dawning. "Plus, trying to hide anything from Wooyoung is like trying to limit yourself to one of Felix's brownies - it's impossible. Changbin hasn't stopped talking about their theories since they first started scheming."
Managing to untangle yourself from Changbin's hold, you found Chris standing in front of you now, a firm expression on his face.
"Are you happy?"
You could hear the lingering, unspoken words behind his question and you offered him a gentle smile, nodding, "I am, I really am."
Face brightening with his signature smile, he pulled you into a quick hug, squeezing tightly, "Good, because you're definitely telling us how everything started between you two, later."
Separating to go back to your unassigned assigned seats - with a few words of congratulations from Felix and Hyunjin - you looked across the aisle to catch Mingi already staring at you, his lips pulled into a proud smile while the rest of his members gave you teasing, yet supportive, cheers.
[unedited]
#✧. ┊ kacii answers#✧. ┊ lovely ihrtlix#i don't quite know how to tag this since it's not fully skz#song mingi x reader#song mingi smut#ateez smut#song mingi fluff#skz 9th member#stray kids 9th member
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Hey! Hope you’re doing great! If I may request something, of course you can take your time.
I wanted to ask if you could write character with a s/o whose body is always warm, except their hands, which are always freezing cold. Normally it’s not a bother, until their hands are so cold, that they can’t really feel them anymore. Even if it’s warm and all, it still happens.
I also didn’t saw anything about that you don’t write for specific characters, so could I request Venti, Lyney, Thoma & Wriothesley?
Thank you! And take your time, no pressure!
multiple characters headcannons!
you have FREEZING hands no matter what.
characters: venti, lyney, thoma, wriothesley x gn!reader
author's note: WHY ARE ALL THESE REQS SO ME??????!!!??!? not like i'm complaining since it's easier to write🤷♂️ BUT THANKS FOR THE REQ I LOVE IT‼️ (i only don't write for dottore in genshin so yeah everything's good dw)
๑ Venti
-he's anemo so he can't really help all that much with his vision/element/power even being an archon
-BUT BUT BUTTTT he has 101 other ways to make your hands warmer.
-he will cuddle you, he will give you his "coat"(if that's what it is) and hold your hands ALL the time.
-he also uses it as an excuse to hold your hand sometimes.
-but you'll get used to ut eventually.
-even if he doesn't end up helping your condition completely, he'll do his best to keep your hands as warm as possible as much as he can.
-his hands are warm all the time so yeah<3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
✧ Lyney
-he has warm hands all the time too
-BUT HE'S PYRO.
-he will literally give you his pyro vision on days when he can't be with you all the time.
-it will keep you warm if you keep it in your hands near your heart.
-THIS GUY.
-and when you're together, there's not a time when your hands wouldn't be warm.
-he will make them so warm to the point where you'll try and convince him that it's enough because you'd just be having sweaty hands then, but he won't stop.
-also uses it as an excuse to hold your hands more often, even at times when they're "sweaty".
-he doesn't care.
-he will warm your hands between his thighs when possible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
♡ Thoma
-well he's pyro too.
-except that he's not as clingy as lyney.
-he will cuddle you as much as he could, holding your hands underneath the blanket, holding his.
-it will be so romantic and he will always ask if you need it to be anymore warmer because he cares for you.
-when you're not cuddling, he's mostly likely holding your hands.
-when walking, he will literally walk behind you, holding your hands from your sides.
-i don't have much to explain but he's a literal gentleman
-he's a malewife he would do his best to keep you warm not only your hands
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
⑅ Wriothesley
-now this man is cryo.
-but he's big.
-and he has big hands.
-his hands aren't necessarily cold, despite him being cryo, they're normal body temperature.
-but he has big hands, once again, which means he can actually warm you up faster!
-he will cuddle you, hold your hands in his for as long as you want.
-and of course, frequently tease you about it.
-because wriothesley isn't wriothesley without the "t" which stands for "teasing".
-nonetheless you definitely will end up having warmer hands after some time.
-also, he avoids using any type of his cryo powers with you around, not wanting to mess up anything.
-but sometimes he actually does make your hands cold on purpose so he can warm them up again and keep holding them longer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GREAT
one more req to go chdbcs
i love having writing motivation(it happens once a month)
| @mariaace <3
#genshin#genshin impact#genshin headcanons#genshin impact headcanons#genshin imagines#genshin fluff#venti x reader#venti x you#thoma x reader#thoma x you#lyney x reader#lyney x you#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x you#genshin x you#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#LOVE THE REQS‼️‼️
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"Every morning I question why I moved in with you." Can you write an older Hughes sister one where she moved in with Jack and then Luke when he started with the Devils and they’re always asking her to do things for them. Like waking her up in the morning to make breakfast because only she knows how to make pancakes like their mom used to when they were kids. She pretends to hate it but loves to be able to take care of her baby brothers. I imagine they’d all be obsessed with their sister if they had one.
Hughes sister has a chokehold on me and I make no apologies for it. I hope this is something along the lines of what you were thinking!!
••
It had been a long week at work, major changes in the computer system that your office used was causing you to work overtime, so you looked forward to sleeping in on Saturday.
However, Jim and Ellen both agreed that the youngest Hughes boys could benefit from having their big sister live with them as they adjusted to life without their mom and dad. Luckily you had a job where you could work from home and were able to move to New Jersey with ease. At least with ease regarding your job. Your brothers were anything but ease...
With there being a three year age gap with Jack and four with Luke, they looked up to their big sister, relying on you a little more than they should at their age. Most of the time it didn't bother you, but you just wanted this one morning to yourself.
The sound of pots and pans banging revealed that you had wishful thinking, causing you to groan when you rolled over and saw that it was only 7:00 am.
You could tell that the boys were bickering back and fourth about something, but you would let them work it out like the adults that they were. Or at least the adults that they should be.
The walls weren't thick enough to block their argument out though.
"Dude, no that's not how she did it. She added more flour."
"Are you dumb? We're not making waffles. It doesn't need that much flour."
"Well it doesn't need that much milk. It's pancakes, not soup."
"Go get her, we clearly have no idea what the fuck we're doing."
Footsteps, you determined as Jack's, began to come closer to your room, causing you to put a pillow over your head, wishfully hoping it would suffocate you into a deep sleep that wouldn't be disturbed by your brothers.
Three knocks on your door let you know that your wishful thinking was to no avail. You didn't understand why he even bothered knocking when he barged in and jumped on the bed, landing right on top of you, momentarily knocking the breath out of you.
"Jack, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?!" You yelled, shoving him off the bed, the thud resonating throughout the room.
You watched as he winced in pain, holding his knee as it took the brunt of the fall.
"You realize that I have a job that requires me to be healthy?" He groaned as he stood up, causing you to throw a pillow at him while rolling your eyes.
"Don't jump on me and you wouldn't be in this predicament, now would you?"
"Whatever....me and Luke can't remember how to make mom's pancakes. Can you help with that?" He asked, sitting on the side of your bed and falling back onto you.
"You two are hopeless..." You trailed off as you hit his stomach, trying to get him off of you. He swatted your hand away from his stomach, but moved enough to let you out of bed.
As you walked into the kitchen, Jack trailing closely behind and Luke sitting on a barstool on his phone, you noticed that it was an absolute disaster. There were egg shells scattered across the counter, way more than they should have needed. The flour bag was busted, a trail of flour showed where the boys had carried it around the kitchen. There was now only a half gallon of milk left from a previously unopened jug.
You groaned, wiping the sleep out your eyes as you recalled the way that your mom made pancakes your whole life.
"I feel like kids would be easier to raise than the two of you," You said under your breath, pouring the bowl of goop that the boys made down the drain.
"Jack is supposed to know how to make pancakes," Luke spoke up, not tearing his attention away from his phone.
"You watched her make it the same way we did, Luke," You pointed out.
"Yeah, but I'm the baby. I've got you all to do it for me," He smirked, watching you as your glares sent daggers towards him.
"I don't think the argument of being the baby of the family is valid after the age of 18. If it has to be brought up after that, then something's wrong," You rebutted, measuring out the ingredients and mixing them together.
Jack snorted, finding amusement in his oldest and youngest sibling arguing. He wasn't safe from your attitude though.
"You have no room to be laughing over there, Jack. You're older than him and still have to ask me to cook. It's funny...I've never had to do anything for Quinn," You knew when you said it that they would groan, and they did.
"Why don't you go live with him then?" Jack proposed, trying to sit next to Luke who shoved him away.
"Why the hell would you say that while she's making our pancakes, dude?"
"Trust me, I would get a lot more work done because he wouldn't be bothering me nonstop," You flipped one of the pancakes, a golden brown reflecting back at you.
The three of you were quiet as you finished flipping and plating them. You had made enough for the boys to have three and you two.
"Thank you," Jack snatched the plate from your hands, causing you to snatch them back.
"You will not snatch these from me when you rudely jumped on me at 7 in the morning. Take them nicely. We use easy hands in this house," You didn't budge, not giving him his pancakes until he slowly took the plate back. If looks could kill you would be long gone by the look he was giving you.
"Yeah, Jack, easy hands," Luke mocked, trying to grab the plate you held out to him. You brought it back closer to you and out of his reach, preventing him from grabbing it.
"What do we say?" Talking to him like a child elicited a glare from him as well, but he said his 'thank you' and you gave him his plate.
They ate quickly, mentioning that they were running late for a meeting. When they put their plates in the sink, you realized that they were leaving you with the mess that they had made.
"Who do you two think I am? Your personal maid?" You asked rhetorically.
"Love ya, Sis!" Luke called as he walked out the front door.
Jack didn't bother to say anything, only throwing up a peace sign as he followed Luke.
"Every morning I question why I moved in with you," You muttered under your breath as you rolled your sleeves up to clean the kitchen.
As you went to load the dishwasher, your phone vibrated on the counter, Jack's name flashing across the screen.
"What do you need?" You sighed, knowing he had forgotten something.
"I forgot my suit for the game tonight...can you bring it when you get a chance? Preferably before lunch?" You could hear Luke chuckling in the background.
"What do you say?" You were bound and determined to teach him some manners while staying with them.
"Oh my God, just bring it-"
"Do you want the suit or no? Because I'm not the one that has to wear it tonight..." You trailed off as you rinsed a bowl out before loading it onto the top shelf of the dishwasher.
Jack sighed, causing Luke to laugh.
"My wonderful sister that I love so much, would you do me a favor and please bring me my suit before lunch? With my Air Forces?" Sarcasm seeped from his voice, your eyes rolling in response.
"I don't appreciate the sass, but since you said please I will," He didn't bother saying thank you, hanging up immediately when you finished your sentence. He would learn one day.
You would never admit it to them, but you loved being able to help them. The early mornings and late nights that they caused you were inconvenient in the moment, but you would hate to miss out on the opportunities to spend so much time with them. They were, after all, your baby brothers that you loved so very much.
But unbeknownst to anybody...Quinn was still your favorite.
*
*
*
*
#nhl imagine#nhl fic#jack hughes#nhl fanfiction#quinn hughes#trevor zegras#alex turcotte#cole caufield#jack hughes imagines#nico hischier#Luke hughes#nj devils#hughes brothers#jh86#lh43
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