#( i actually think his tags r still saved too hold on- ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovebugism · 1 year

Text

YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, KID | the beginning.

summary: a year after the end of the world, you and steve share one cigarette and two confessions. (6k)

listen to: "as the world falls down" by david bowie

tags: f!reader, roadtrip fic, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst & comfort, post st4, selective canon divergence (some things happen, some things don't), reader goes by the nickname "scout" TW panic attacks, conversations about grief, steve harrington smokes but he's still hot, outfit inspo (not indicative of what r's body type/skin color/etc.)

a/n: kinda surreal that i'm posting this because it's something i've been working on/thinking about for Months. i put so much time and effort and tears into this series so pleasepleaseplease enjoy it! as always, let me know what you think! let's watch these two (sort of) friends run away and fall in love with each other, shall we? <3

JOURNALS | MASTERLIST | SPOTIFY

★。＼｜／。★

The beginning of the rest of your life starts in the murky alleyway outside The Velvet Lounge.

It’s pretty fitting, actually. You feel like you’re close to dying anyway.

The lightning strike of a panic attack comes first as a cold hand around your throat. The clawed talon of a long-gone monster strangles you — sucks all the air out of your lungs and leaves you gasping for a breath you know won’t come.

A second later and the light-up dance floor beneath your feet begins to sway. You blink, and it becomes the desiccated terrain of the Upside Down — again, and the glowing rainbow tiles return. Eventually, it becomes impossible to discern the real from the imaginary.

You feel a bit like the world’s caving in on itself as you stumble through the bustling crowd. The thumping of the heady bass strums throughout your body as you squeeze between a mob of sweatier ones. The merciless pounding makes you forget that your heart’s no longer beating.

The heavy breeze of a summer night smacks you in the face. There is no fresh air outside the buzzing nightclub, just more emptiness.

You lean against the brick wall, clutching desperately onto your chest as you stumble from the exit. The world around you starts to spin on its side, going blurry like you’re being pulled underwater.

You’re drowning, but none’s coming to save you.

To everyone else, you’re just a girl that’s had too many. The girl that’s lost too much.

You duck into the dark alley with the intention of withering away there.

A warm hand brings you back to life.

“Shit, Scout,” Steve Harrington curses behind you. “Are you— Are you okay?”

You’ve never heard the nickname leave his mouth so gently. You don’t think he’s ever touched you so softly, either. It’s all so foreignly tender compared to the war raging inside your skull — you think it would’ve made you weep if you were capable of catching your breath.

His presence is only startling in the sense that you hadn’t expected to find him there.

It was pretty much the reason you’d slinked through the dimly lit passageway in the first place — to die completely and utterly alone. The flickering orange lamplight and damp brick made this place more adequate for puking college kids, canoodling couples, and conniving Ted Bundy’s of the world. Not pretty Steve and his pretty clothes and his pretty hair.

You’re more humiliated at having been caught than you are alarmed by it.

You figure you really shouldn’t be. He’s already seen you at your worst. On your deathbed, crying so hard you puke, so far gone from the world that you’re practically a ghost — that kind of worst.

But for some reason, his wide palm on your shoulder makes you feel fragile. Small. He stands fathoms above you and you’re nothing but an ant under his sneaker — a little delicate thing he could crush completely if he wanted.

Instead, Steve holds you.

His long fingers cradle your trembling shoulder in a steady embrace. A warm reminder that you’re not alone in this gloomy alleyway that still thrums with life. That, in some ways, you’ve never really been alone at all.

“Yeah,” you answer finally, nodding but not looking over at him. You swallow through a tightening throat. “I just… I just need to, uh… to catch my breath.”

Steve eyes you with a gaze swimming with apprehension.

Your shoulder presses into the rough brick while your other hand clings desperately to your chest. Your fingers dig into the soft cotton of your shirt like you’re reaching for your thundering heart. Each of your breaths is ragged, forced, worked for. You grunt your way through every impossible inhale.

Facing away from him under the dim amber streetlight, he can barely make out your profile. He only gets glimpses of your scrunched face and the tear that glimmers gold on your cheek. But with his hand on your arm, he can feel the rapid up-and-down motion of your heavy breaths. Panic sizzles off of you and onto him like static shock.

“Yeah, it was getting kinda crazy in there, huh?” he says within a halfhearted laugh. “I didn’t know people like Duran Duran so much.”

It’s nothing more than a feeble attempt to get you to laugh.

And it works. Sort of.

You’d lost sight of Steve somewhere around the time “Girls on Film” came on. Nancy’s drunken hand pulled you to the dance floor, and every other tipsy woman followed right behind you. He hadn’t seemed to care much about dancing, though. He just sat in the corner booth with Robin until Vickie came by and stole her away. The last you saw him, he was sitting alone at the bar with a basket of chicken wings before disappearing entirely.

But he hadn’t disappeared, you figured. He was just here, in this eerily empty alleyway, trying to get away from it all just as much as you were.

Steve sees the corners of your mouth quirk upward in a grimacing sort of smile. A scoff sounds from your throat a moment later. He thinks that might be the sort of laugh you get from a girl who doesn’t have much to find humor in anymore.

Your newfound relief is his own.

“You okay now?” he asks once you’ve caught your breath.

You nod and settle back against the brick. The fabric of your shirt sticks to the prickly clay. “Yeah,” you repeat, more truthfully this time. “Thanks— Thank you.”

You’re forced to mourn the warmth of the broad hand on your shoulder when he pulls away from you.

He doesn’t stray far, though. He remains at your side with his back to the brick — his frame much taller than your own, broader too. His woody cologne swirls with the purer scent of a summer night and the distant smell of beer. He holds within him an air that can only be described as all-consuming. He’s exactly the feeling of everything warm despite the several inches that separate you.

Steve offers you the lit cigarette in his left hand, and for a reason you can’t name, his kindness takes you by surprise. You’ve fought a monster with the guy, but he still feels like a total stranger to you sometimes.

He sees you hesitate and thinks that this might be the first time either of you have been alone together. You don’t have anything in common except for the party. Without one of the members to accompany you, the fact becomes a heavier weight to bear.

It’s sort of like a peace offering — this half-gone cigarette. A ‘hey, I know we aren’t really friends, but maybe we could be.’

You take it. “Thanks…”

Steve watches you puff from the stick. You hold the thing between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it as you bring it up to your mouth. The huff you take isn’t a deep one, probably the fault of your still staggering breaths, but your eyes flutter shut on the exhale like you’re grateful for the nicotine fix.

He realizes then that he’s never looked at you before. Like, really looked.

Like a ghost, you tend to blend easily into the background, floating around in the shadows without ever being seen. You’re only out tonight because Robin and Nancy forced your hand, but in your darkened outfit — cropped tee, plain skirt, worn boots, all varying shades of black — you threaten to blend in with the night. You do it all with the finesse of a girl who’s all but disconnected herself from the world.

You catch him staring when you hand the cigarette back.

You don’t look weirded out by his prying gaze — quite the opposite, really. You cower under the attention, chin tilting toward your chest and a sheepish smile hinting at your lips. Embarrassed without any actual reason to be.

“Wanna tell me the real reason you came out here?” Steve asks you, covering the serious inquiry with a joking lilt.

Your brows furrow as you watch him bring the cigarette to his own mouth. He’s got this look on his face — raised brows, wide eyes, and quirked lips — almost like he’s teasing you.

You breathe out an awkward laugh.

“What do you mean? I just told you.” You try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It looks more like you’re wincing as you shift your weight on your feet. “I just needed to—”

“To catch your breath,” Steve finishes for you, smoke billowing from his pink lips. The grey lingers between you for a moment before disappearing entirely. He nods with a lopsided grin before handing you back the cigarette. “Yeah. I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

Your eyes go wide. He can’t tell if you’re shocked by his bluntness or if you’re embarrassed at having been caught so quickly. Maybe a healthy mixture of both.

Your throat tightens all over again. You swallow thickly as you turn away from him and it feels like you’re forcing down a too big pill. The back of your eyes burn with unshed tears, so many stinging needles that you force yourself to blink away.

And even though you’re just trying not to cry at the reality of the situation you’ve spent a year hiding from, to Steve it looks like you’re searching for a way out. Your gaze snaps to the opening of the alley where nicely dressed people bustle on the other side, their conversations far away and muffled.

He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable. He just thought you could use a friend, considering you were only just recovering from the windswept panic spell.

“Look. You— You tell me why you’re out here, and I’ll tell you why I am,” he offers, partly to make you feel better.

The other half of it, which he finds it startling to admit, is that he doesn’t want you to leave.

He’d spent fifteen minutes by himself in the dark — half comforted by it, half frightened. Despite his distant unfamiliarity with you, he’s weirdly comforted by your presence. Steve’s seen enough people walk away from him to know he doesn’t want you to join them.

You look at him again, more glassy-eyed than you’d been before. Your sniffle is nearly inaudible. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “You know… A you-show-me-yours, I’ll-show-you-mine kinda thing.”

It sounds a lot weirder coming out of his mouth than he expected it to. It makes you laugh, though, so it feels sort of worth it.

“That sounds really pervy,” you tease with a more sincere smile.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just— Maybe just ignore that last part, yeah?” he stammers stiffly, laughing softly at himself shortly after.

You finally take a hit from the cig between your fingers. Your gaze falls to your boots.

They were a gift from someone you knew a long time ago — someone you don’t know anymore because they’re gone.

It was a well-loved anniversary present you’ve worn every day since you got them. They’re a bit tattered now, obviously worn on the platformed bottoms. You don’t know how many times you’ve glued the soles back together now — or how many times you’ve tried to wash away the faded bloodstain by the laces that refuses to come out.

It’s as stuck there as the memories in your head are.

And even though you’ve never talked about it out loud, you think you could write a million words about how looking at the stain makes you feel — about all the thoughts that swirl within you at the sight of it and why you can’t throw them out despite it all. You’d write about the boy who bought them for you, whose name it’s still so hard to say — the boy who you loved who was gone.

It was just easier to shove it all down.

You kept your grief horribly discreet, like a poorly stitched-together wound.

If you couldn’t even burden yourself with it, why should you expect anyone else to?

But here Steve goes, offering to let that raging wound breathe.

Something about the ultimatum makes it more comforting. It’s a lot easier to tell a kept secret when you know another hidden confession is coming right after it. You don’t know if you’ll ever get this chance again — to shield your grief with someone else’s.

“Okay,” you answer suddenly before exhaling the gray from your lungs. You outstretch your hand to give him the cigarette back. You try to smile. “You first, though.”

Steve puffs from the stick before he answers you. For a moment, it’s nothing but muffled conversations and a stifled bass that rattles the brick. The quiet is noticeably less suffocating than all the quiets you’ve known before — less lonely now that you’ve got someone to share them with.

“I hate parties,” he summarizes with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” you joke.

He flicks the end of the cigarette to dispel the ash. Grey specks fall to the damp concrete. When he hands it off to you again, your fingers brush his own. Your skin is much cooler than the humid summer air surrounding you.

“I mean, I used to like parties. I think,” Steve explains, still rather vague, gesturing with wild hands like you’re used to. “Really, I just liked to drink, you know? ‘Cause everyone liked me when I was drunk. I was the popular guy — Mr. Funny, Mr. Cool. But, uh… I guess somewhere down the line, I forgot how to have fun like that.”

“Forgot how to have fun?” you repeat with a sad sort of laugh. Your brows scrunch and your swim with sympathy. The streetlamp casts sharp shadows on his chiseled features, but he still looks at you so soft — eyes sweet with the tenderness he holds there and smiling just the same.

It’s hard to believe that the King of Hawkins High could’ve ever felt anything other than total elation when he had a whole ocean outside his front door on Fairview Lane.

“I think they have a name for that these days, Harrington.”

He laughs and turns to press his shoulder into the brick. He’s facing you now, and it feels much more like he’s looming over you.

You remain against the wall, still a bit overwhelmed by the presence of a boy who never would’ve looked your way a year or more ago. It takes everything in you not to duck away from him completely.

“Well, I was only having fun because I was drunk, right?” he elaborates, brown eyes a golden amber beneath the flickering light. They twinkle looking down at you.

“Sure…” you shrug to humor him.

“And, like, I can deal with the hangovers and everything no problem, you know, but the… The waking up the next morning. The remembering, I guess. Remembering everything I was trying to forget when I was drinking. That’s… That’s the worst part.”

You don’t realize how intently you’re looking at him at first. Every quirk of his rosy mouth, every twitch of his bushy brow, every glint of his chocolate eyes as he divulges a deeply held secret doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Behind all the pretty hair and expensive clothes is a boy much sadder than you could’ve imagined.

Something bigger had done a number on him. Something more than the end of the world.

His upturned gaze returns to you and you realize you haven’t blinked once.

You do a rather shit job of pretending you weren’t just staring. You haphazardly turn away again, handing him the cigarette despite not having put your mouth to it.

“Yeah, I— I get what you mean…”

Your words seem to surprise him. His brows pinch like he was more prepared to be made fun of than empathized. He takes the cig from you with an absentminded hand. It goes quickly forgotten.

“You do?”

“Well, not so much with drinking, but… It happens to me in the morning sometimes,” you shrug, feigning nonchalance, and trying not to seem like it’s a phenomenon you’ve experienced every day for a year and a half. “It’s, like, that split second of bliss right before the grief comes back, right?”

Steve blinks owlishly. Then nods.

“That half a moment where nothing bad’s ever happened to you, and it’s just the sun shining on you before the… the bad shit comes back again. Like it never even left.”

And Steve, who’s never met another person who could so easily understand him and that otherwise indescribable feeling so perfectly, is stunned into silence.

Maybe it’s his fault for keeping it all to himself, like a love letter he can’t bring himself to unfold. It’s entirely likely that he could find a million people in the world who’ve felt all the same feelings he’s garnered over the past couple of years. It still wouldn’t hold the same weight as being understood now — being understood by someone who’s been through the end of the world with him.

Being understood without all the empty words.

“Yeah,” he nods finally, clearing his throat. His cheeks glow red when he realizes he’d forgotten to speak because he was too busy looking at you. “Yeah, exactly— Shit!”

The sides of his fingers sting with a sharp ache. The cig in his hand drops to the ground, half the size of his pinky. There isn’t much left of it now, and that’s why it burns him so. It hits the concrete, more ash than stick. The skin of Steve’s finger blackens as it blazes.

“Oh— Are you okay?” you grimace.

Steve snuffs out the burning cigarette with the toe of his sneaker.

“Yeah, I— I just wasn’t paying attention,” he dismisses with the shake of his head, more so at himself than anything else. It’s the first time he’s had an actual conversation with you, and he’s already embarrassed himself twice. He’ll count himself lucky if you care enough to talk to him again.

“Your go, Scout,” he offers suddenly in a measly attempt to get the attention off of him and his blunder. He wipes the ash from his pointer and middle finger on his jeans. “See if you can out-miserable me.”

You roll your eyes at him, still smiling. “What is this? The trauma olympics?”

“C’mon. I’m kidding,” he assures with a lilt. He reaches out to nudge your arm with his knuckles and, like before, his touch is almost too soft for you to feel it. The act of platonic intimacy takes you momentarily by surprise.

His smile is crooked. His eyes glimmer with honey. “I was kidding,” he repeats.

“It was just that, um— that song,” you answer. It comes out more choked than you expected it to. “They started playing that song.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What song?” he asks. Not pressing. Only curious.

“That one that… that Eddie played when I…”

“Oh.”

“I used to love that stupid song— I mean, obviously. It sorta saved me from what should’ve been an unavoidable death, so…” You manage to laugh at yourself as you ramble.

Steve can’t find it in himself to do the same.

He’d been terrified when it happened to Max — when the kid he was involuntarily babysitting started to float in midair, nearly succumbing to the curse of a monster that should’ve been make-believe. He was relieved when she fell back down again, but you? He was certain you were a goner.

You were too high up and Eddie’s guitar was too far away. The beginning notes of I Was Made For Lovin’ You were too grim and Vecna’s claws were in too deep. You were too distant, too banished.

For several agonizing seconds, you were destined to remain a stranger to him.

But here you are now, sharing cigarettes and secrets.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you shake your head at yourself. “But, um, anyway. Yeah. It’s just… Sometimes things will happen, you know? Like I’ll— I’ll hear a song or… I’ll see something that reminds me of him— of Eddie. And it’s just like…”

“…Like you’re in the Upside Down again?” Steve finishes gently for you when he sees that you can’t.

You nod, wordlessly for a moment, until the words catch up with you.

“Like nightmares, but when I’m awake,” you force through a closing throat. “And they’re so real. Like… I can— I can hear him. I can hear him talking to me, and I’m— I’m holding him, and I can feel him breathing, you know? He’s still breathing, but—”

You take a staggering breath in. For a moment, Steve’s scared you’re tumbling headfirst into another panic attack.

His attentive eyes flit between your scrunched up face and the trembling hands you hold out in front of you. You’re cradling something that isn’t there anymore. You look down at your palms with a horror that tells him you understand that, too — that the person you used to hold isn’t able to be held anymore.

“I can feel the… the blood. And it’s just… It’s all over me. And I’m losing him. I’m losing him all over again—”

You hiccup a measly sob when your lungs force you to take a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It puts an end to your rambling. You’re grateful enough for it. You’d already said more than you were planning to — more than you thought you’d say in a lifetime.

You think you must sound deranged, talking about a corpse like it’s still a warm body you hold every night.

In some ways, it is.

You sniffle and blink back burning tears. Your smile edges on sincerity. “So, what do you think, Harrington? Did I out-miserable you?”

Steve scoffs in the place of a real laugh. “I didn’t have a dog in that fight, did I? What you went through… I mean, I shouldn’t even be complaining.”

“Hey, c’mon,” you scold gently. “We both went through shit. It was all bad, no matter how you look at it. Just because we didn’t go through the same stuff doesn’t mean what happened to you is any less important.”

You just barely catch his cinnamon eyes going glassy before he turns away from you entirely. His stubbled cheeks blotch with varying shades of pink, glowing with an emotion he can’t keep hidden. He looks down at his dirty sneakers because he can’t bare to look at you now.

Understanding, that’s what this is. Understanding without all the empty words.

It’s still hard for him to believe them, though.

In the grand scheme of things, what happened to him wasn’t so terrible.

He wasn’t under any sort of curse. No one he cared about was irrevocably hurt, either. And he didn’t have to hold someone he loved in his arms while they bled to death — doesn’t have to feel like he’s still holding onto them a year after it all.

Despite the marred scars on his mind and body, Steve convinces himself that he has no reason to be sad — even though that’s not really how sadness works. Grief isn’t the kind of thing you can just will away, but he beats himself up when he can’t — when the heartache wins.

It’s a never-ending cycle. A loop he’s been stuck in since he was seventeen. A portal he was terrified would never close.

Now, at least, it feels sort of possible.

“You shouldn’t talk like that, Scout,” he jokes after the urge to weep has passed. He tilts his head to his shoulder and smiles a crooked grin. “I’m gonna start to think you like me.”

Without missing a beat, you retort: “Please, never ever think that. That would completely shatter my reputation.”

You both laugh with the knowing that it’s all just a joke.

You never had much of a reputation because you spent your whole life being invisible. You liked it best that way because never being seen meant nothing was ever expected of you. You’ll happily take someone you went to school with your entire life never knowing your name than any bogus Hawkins High royalty status any day.

Steve, better known by his title of King, wishes now that he’d taken a page out of your book. He learned the power of invisibility far too late.

“Who woulda thought, huh?” the boy sighs, chocolate eyes turned up to the velvet blue sky. “You and me… being friends.”

You arch a brow at him. “Oh, is that what we are now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve scoffs like it’s obvious. “They didn’t tell you? You fight monsters together, and you’re bonded for life.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. I mean, why do you think me and Henderson are so close?”

“So you’re saying you would’ve never been friends if it wasn’t for the end of the world?” you reiterate with a challenging squint.

“That’s almost exactly what I’m saying. Yeah,” he nods with his pink lips jutted softly out. “If none of that shit ever happened, I’d still be that raging douchebag I used to be. My life would be… so much different.”

“Worse?” you press.

He thinks for a moment.

Without the whole end-of-the-world thing, he never would’ve met Dustin. He never would’ve gotten closer to Robin. Nancy never would’ve had a reason to break up with him, and he figures he’d have long settled down with her by now. They’d be that miserable couple that somehow manages to make it.

He’d probably still be friends with Tommy Hagan, too, getting drunk at parties he’s too old to be at. He’d still be the King Steve everyone loved and hating every second of it.

Fighting monster after monster changed him for the better. Even with its horror, how could he ever take that back?

He winces at the realization. “Yeah…”

“So you’d do it all over again?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“I think so, yeah.” Steve’s smile is shy as he ducks his gaze, peering at you through his lashes. “I’m a total idiot, right?”

Your brows pinch together as you shake your head. “No. I don’t think so… Actually, I think the end of the world looks pretty good on you, Harrington.”

He knows you don’t mean it how it sounds. He gets the feeling you’re talking less about his appearance and more about why he’s standing out here in the first place — talking to a girl he’s halfway known all his life whose name he didn’t know until she almost died.

For the same reason — the one that’s brought you to him and this alley — he jokes back: “It looks good on you, too, Scout.”

Again, you laugh with the understanding that you’re joking. For the most part, at least.

You’re both so weathered with grief, looking much older than your years, forced to wear your woe all over. For whatever transformation the trauma might’ve done internally, it hadn’t done anything on the outside than leave scars that won’t fade.

When the laughter subsides, a silence roars to life.

Not a total one. You can still hear the pounding bass from inside The Velvet Lounge and the muddled chatter of people coming in and out of it. It’s not a totally uncomfortable one either, which is far more than you thought you could ever say about talking to Steve The Hair Harrington.

But it’s still sort of heavy in its way. Likely with the idea of what the both of you know and of everything you’ve confessed out loud.

Now that it’s all out in the open, Steve’s got no idea how to move on. How is he supposed to joke around now? How does he say anything but sorry to the girl who holds all her grief in her eyes?

“Hey, Scout?” he calls quietly.

Your leftover grin hasn’t yet faded. “Hm?”

“I’m… I’m really sorry.”

The smile ebbs entirely.

“Why are you apologizing?” you ask with the shake of your head, almost flinching at the sudden condolence. “You didn’t… You’re not the one that killed Eddie.”

“I know. I just… I feel like I should— like I should say it, you know?”

“That’s the worst part about all of this, I think. Like… you lose someone, and no one knows how to talk to you anymore,” you confess, a sad smile hinting at the very corners of your lips — so soft it’s barely there. Your gaze falls to your boots again. “Everyone just feels so sorry for you all the time. All anyone ever wants to do is talk about what happened like I don’t have to think about it enough, you know? It just… It makes it impossible to move on.”

Steve winces. He can’t ever say the right thing. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing,” you tell him, laughing. “I’m not saying that— I’m just… I’m just saying. I think it’d be easier if I didn’t have to stay here. You know, where everything happened. If I could… Like, if I could just go, I think that maybe I could get better.”

“You could,” Steve affirms with a nod.

Your brows furrow. “Get better?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs, amber gaze flitting between your glittering eyes and his dirty sneakers. “And… And leave. You know, if you wanted to.”

The thought alone makes you laugh. “By myself? With no car? Barely any money?”

“You wouldn’t have to go alone,” he promises.

“Yeah?” you scoff, still grinning like it’s all a joke to you. “And who would want to run away with a girl with a broken heart?”

He answers without thinking and with a lopsided smile. “The boy with nothing to lose.”

Your smile fades with the heavy weight of his offer.

It isn’t just about running away. It’s about running away together — two people with nothing in common besides a mutual hatred for a dark wizard from the underworld, ditching a town that hasn’t done shit for them, and pretending like nothing’s ever hurt them.

And at first, you’re shocked. Who wouldn’t be with such an offer thrown at their feet? But then, and more than anything else, you’re confused. Why would Steve want to run away? you think to yourself. Why would he want to run away with you?

When the bolt blue finally dissipates, you’re left with a simmering feeling of disbelief.

Steve shouldn’t want this, and he shouldn’t want it with you.

“You’re drunk,” you conclude, smiling because it’s a joke again.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Steve shrugs with his gaze pointed to the sky. The stars are hidden beneath layers of light and pollution. They’re out there somewhere, but he can’t see them — not from where he is now. He looks back to you, a sheepish smile playing on his pink mouth. “But… I’m not.”

“Would you seriously want to leave?” you squint. With me, you keep to yourself, unsaid.

“I’ve, uh— I’ve been wanting to for a while, actually. Even before all of… this,” he confesses, waving his hand out into the ether. He grins in reminiscence, but not the fond kind. “My dad— he’s just been dogging me about work and college and everything, you know? I think he wants me to be the same big shot business douchebag that he is, and I get it, but…”

You lean closer to him, brows furrowed. “But what?” you press.

Steve exhales a sad laugh. “I really don’t wanna end up like my dad,” he admits — a thought he kept like a thorn in his side finally said out loud. “And I’m scared that, if I stay here, I will.”

“So you’ve just been looking for a way out. All this time?” you wonder aloud. While I thought you were on top of the world, you were wanting out of it.

Steve shrugs, then nods.

“And a girl with nothing to lose?” you joke.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly to himself. “That, too.”

You turn away from him again, deep in thought. Steve mourns your gaze — its attentiveness more than anything, the way you look at him and seem to understand him without saying a goddamn word. He didn’t think that was possible before now.

You think to yourself for a moment. Mostly because it’s something you know you should think about before you do it.

How will you pay your way? Where will you go? What will you do when you get there?

What will your parents say when they notice you’re gone? How long will it take before they do?

Who’ll feed the stray cats outside the trailer park?

Who’ll leave flowers at Eddie’s grave once a month and clean it when it’s ultimately vandalized by assholes who still think he was a mass murderer sent from Hell to do Satan’s bidding?

There’s a lot of questions you don’t have answers for.

What little you do know, though, you’re certain of.

You know there’s nothing left for you in Hawkins.

You don’t have much family — especially not since Eddie — and your friends aren’t really your friends. Sure, Nancy invites you out from time to time, but she’d never call you to dish about secrets and shared trauma in this way. Sometimes you think they only include you because your boyfriend died, and they all saw what it did to you.

And you also know that there’s nothing holding you back but grief. To absolve yourself from it all, to finally move the fuck on, you’re going to have to leave it all behind. It’s not like you’d be missing much anyway.

You’re still a ghost because you live in a soul-sucking town full of people who only want to talk to you when it’s to remind you that the only person you’ve ever loved is dead.

Nothing has brought you back to life quite like this boy and his secrets and offer to run away.

You think you’d been an idiot to walk away from it. From him.

“Fuck it.”

Steve almost flinches at how feverishly you turn to face him again.

His brows raise to his hairline, honey eyes going wide at the abrupt nature of your sudden reply. “…Fuck it?” he echoes, not nearly as confident as you’d said it — just grateful that you’d said it at all.

For a boy who always expects rejection, your innate acceptance of him and his previously kept secrets makes his chest swell with so much warmth that it’s started to burn him. He can feel his ribcage turning to ash and his heart melting as he speaks.

“Fuck it,” you nod, more serious than he’s ever seen you.

You turn to face him fully, something you’d been too timid to do just minutes ago. You’re more sure now — of him, of this. The proximity between your bodies forces you to tilt your head up to look at him. Similarly, his chin falls to his chest to peer at you.

Tucked away in this alley, you’re made of shadows and shades of gold. The lamplight still flickers over your heads. The brick still shakes with the drumming, muffled bass. You don’t realize until now that you can feel your heart beating again.

“Let’s do it,” you shrug with a blast of hopeful anticipation swelling in your chest, more optimistic than you’ve been in a year. “Nothing to lose, right?”

Steve grins.

“Nothing to lose,” he repeats, reminding himself of the fact when reality starts to set in on him. Even if he fails, even if it all goes wrong and he’s waking up in his childhood bed a week from now, he can’t get any lower than rock bottom. Besides, now he’s got you to fall back on, right?

“Fuck it.”

★。／｜＼。★

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #yoyok

700 notes · View notes

abibliophobiaa · 1 year

Text

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Three: Marry Me, Today and Every Day

a/n: here’s chapter three of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader. next chapter we get down to business, and maybe things will start to take a turn for these two. who is to say? also--the book r is reading is an actual fanfic by @blueywrites that you most definitely should check out. haha. just a fun little easter egg.

warnings/tags: hugely unedited (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

Sweat slicks your palms. Brings an awareness to every inch of your body as you pace around your bridal suite. Fear permeates every nerve ending. Sets them alight with a new sort of panic. This daunting, unrelenting, overwhelming knowledge that in less than an hour you’ll be a wife.

In less than an hour, you’ll be the new Mrs. Steve Harrington.

A Harrington.

Married to a man who you barely know, and yet his is the name you splutter out when your father asks what you need, noticing the staggering rise and fall of your chest, palm over your sternum where your heart races beneath.

The room clears out then. Faces pass in your peripheral vision, all varying degrees of worry lining them. Whispers, you’re certain, from your soon to be mother-in-law and Steve’s grandmother, over if you’re getting cold feet.

And it’s not that.

Not really.

You’ve resigned yourself to the understanding that this is what’s best for right now. Marrying Steve pays for your student debt, which gives you the liberty to find work in the interim while finishing up veterinarian school, and thus aids in assisting your father in taking care of what he needs to.

With money not being a worry in your mind, all your efforts can be in assisting the man who gave you life and lost his own love too soon. All your efforts can be put into that little girl with fire in her eyes and love in every inch of her bones—even when she’s trying to hide it in her cell phone, on social media, or scrolling through TikTok. It’s a sacrifice you don’t have any lingering regrets over.

He stands there in his tuxedo and wire frame glasses, hair styled back to perfection in a way that’s still so strikingly him, and yet elevated in a way you’ve not seen him before. Your head photographer, Jonathan, waves the rest of his crew out of the room when he realizes you’ll be needing a moment, the rest of the bodies filling the space finally slipping out of the room one by one until it’s just the two of you remaining.

“Wow,” he breathes out, swiping his palms against the front of the black tux, eyes roving your form. “You look—wow.”

“I, ah, thank you.” You allow your eyes to trail his form. The head to toe dress attire, the effortlessness in which he holds himself. Handsome, disturbingly so, and he never acts like he’s fully aware of the effect he has. “You clean up well, Mr. Harrington.”

He chuckles and suddenly you’re just a girl, and he’s just a boy, standing in a room together, taking in one another. It’s a slow perusal. Him, handsome as ever, in all black, save for the little floral arrangement on his chest that mirrors the one you’ll be carrying when you walk down the aisle, the glasses he’s wearing for the evening, and the gold watch around his wrist.

“Are you okay?”

He steps closer, hand extending slightly before it drops back to his side. Like he thinks better of it, like he doesn’t feel right about being near to you. It’s been that way since your bachelorette party. Since the moment he kissed you and forgot that next morning. The look in his eye when he stated plainly he didn’t remember much at all about the moment where you wondered, if only briefly, that there might be something more to this arrangement than two people entering a business deal.

From that moment on, he’d made himself very busy, and you spoke little. Figured it was likely better that way. No way to muddle the lines established in your fake marriage. Better now than when you’re deeper into the arrangement, and delusion might have arisen.

But now, in this moment, you need that nearness. Crave the touch of the only other person who understands what you’re going through. The only other person who appreciates the depth of the nervousness pooling in your belly. Circling around your heart like a vice. Clawing at your lungs to leave you breathless.

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, trying to keep the frustrated tears at bay by inhaling deeply. He moves closer, thumb brushing along your right hand to where you’ve moved your engagement ring until after the ceremony when it’s joined by your wedding ring. “We’re doing something absolutely insane.”

“Completely,” he agrees, and those fingers drag along the inside of your palm. Your fingers reflexively tighten around his, comforting warmth seeping into flesh. “But you can say the word and I’ll call it off now.”

“You’ll let me be a runaway bride?”

It’s a watery laugh that prompts Steve to grip your other palm in hand as well, giving both a gentle squeeze. Your eyes wander downward to the two tethers anchoring you to earth in this moment, then to the kind face of the man who is to be your husband in minutes.

“Just say the word and I’ll come up with an excuse why it couldn’t happen.”

“No. No. I’m marrying you today, Steve.”

He blows out an exhale. A stray hair falls down into his eyes at the motion, and your fingers hesitantly reach up to push at it. His stare pierces you, hazel eyes warm as you card your fingers through dark locks, feeling them shift and move beneath your fingertips, impossibly soft and lush.

Gently, ever so gently the hand curling in your right one loosens and circles your wrist like a bracelet. Rests briefly over your frantic pulse point, before trailing along the back of your arm. Faint brushes of skin back and forth, back and forth, loosening that breath presently hitched tight in your chest.

“How about this,” he begins, eyes darting to where gooseflesh starts to prickle along your skin. You chalk it up to the AC unit in the bridal suite, meant to block out the heat of the city in summer. “When you walk down the aisle, you only look at me. Don’t look at anyone else, okay? It’s just you and me out there, no one else matters. Eyes on me.”

“Okay.”

A long exhale leaves your mouth. Lungs deflate with the deepest breath in what feels like hours now. Steve’s fingers extricate themselves from yours in those moments of quiet, footfalls of his leather shoes clacking along the floor as he makes his way over to the door. His hand curls around metal when your voice breaks into the resounding silence, quiet and minuscule for you, and you loathe to admit there are nerves that still cling to every fiber of your being over what you’re about to do in front of hundreds of literal strangers.

“Steve.”

It’s simple. But he turns quickly, barely opens his mouth to speak when you rush forward and wind your arms around his waist. And there’s no protest. No argument as broad arms twine around your waist. As they rest low against your back, radiating warmth and comfort.

He remains like that, quiet and steadfast, until you’re both ready. Until you lace your fingers with him and he leads you to where your father stands ready to walk you down the aisle. He hands you off to the older man, rests a comforting palm on his father-in-law’s shoulder and dips his head once. Tips his head in your direction and offers you a kind smile.

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you.

“Eyes on you.”

So it begins.

There’s a ring on Steve’s finger. You notice it as you sit beside him at your sweetheart table, as strangers and friends alike offer you congratulations and greetings in support of your nuptials.

Because you’re married now. Freshly Mrs. Harrington.

In a whirlwind of emotion, you’d walked down the aisle onto that beautifully lit private rooftop. Admired only briefly the weeks of wedding planning spent with your new mother-in-law and followed Steve’s directions.

Eyes on him to block out your surroundings, eyes on him to ignore the shutter of Jonathan’s camera, of the other photographers milling about. Eyes on him as you heard the audible sniffles of Steve’s family and your own. Eyes on him as the officiant had you recite words that would bind you to Steve as you slid rings on each other's fingers. Empty words that felt like ash on your tongue. Nearly choked you as you spoke them out loud in front of hundreds of people. Declarations of a devoted love shared between kindred spirits wanting to spend the rest of their lives together.

And you’d kept your eyes on him as you were declared husband and wife, as your new name was announced to that rooftop gathering, as they’d announced Steve could now ‘kiss the bride.’

He’d been warm and welcome. Lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that had your head spinning, stomach swooping low in your belly. When he leaned back to take you in, his palm, the one where his new wedding band sat, cupped your face. To others, a sign of affection. To you, a reminder that it was only you two up there. Even as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, as the room erupted into applause, and he whispered to you.

“Keep looking at me until we get back inside, okay?”

A simple sentence. A comforting command meant to quiet your fears with the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand against yours.

Now you sit in a romantically lit room, all atmospheric blues dancing along the walls draped in white with your new first initial of your last name highlighted on the dance floor. Beside you, Steve chats enthusiastically with a man and woman, who offer you remarks on your appearance. It’s all you’ve heard all evening. Comments on your new marriage, how beautiful you look, how happy everyone is for you two.

You find it eases that tension, helps you settle in against your chair, still holding your husband’s hand as you sip daintily at a glass of champagne. That and Steve’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re okay, offering to grab you another drink despite the fact wait staff quite literally answers your every beck and call. There’s a gratitude toward him that rests behind your ribs, an appreciation regardless of the confusing few days you’ve had as of late with him.

Your husband who is not. A man you share a name with and only that. Who you signed paperwork with and will be heading off on a honeymoon with come morning. A man whom you’ll be sleeping in a separate bed from tonight, when most would assume you will be consummating your marriage. There’s none of that, only a pre-planned understanding.

Agreements, plans, business deals.

Before your mind can venture any further, the Emcee announces your first dance as husband and wife. You’ve almost forgotten about this part in all your planning. Never really thought beyond the kiss at the altar. Even so, Steve’s cupping your hand and leading you into the center of the dance floor where a giant ‘H’ is emblazoned below, drawing you near to him in an embrace as the song begins and you’re swaying back and forth in the arms of your husband.

“I’m scared to death that she might be it, that the love is real, that the shoe might fit.”

“People are staring,” you point out, curling your hands around the back of his neck, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Today is our day,” he laughs against the top of your head. Warm breath puffs along your skin, shiver tingling your spine. “I think you've forgotten. Everyone is here to celebrate us.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond. Beyond.”

“You’re my husband.”

He chuckles again, chest rumbling near your ear as you sway, his broad hands against your hips, tugging you closer.

“Guess that makes you my wife, huh?”

“Space and time in the afterlife. Will she have my kids? Will she be my wife?”

Your nose wrinkles at the newness of your title. Wife. Wife. You’re someone’s wife now. And he’s your husband. Husband. You mouth the word once more silently to yourself, finding it unusual, tongue stumbling over it, and snort into his suit.

That hand around your right hip tightens. “Something funny?” he asks, but there’s a levity in his tone that has your mouth jolting upward at the corners.

“Just…this day.”

“I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as he adds, “people are also staring because you are beautiful, you know?

“Steve.”

“It’s true.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing closer to him.

“I know this day has been…stressful for you, but you’re not alone. There’s two of us now.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond.”

Your head tips back at his words, feeble mind stumbling momentarily over his compliment, heart thumping as you say, “Like a team.”

He grins. “Exactly like that. We’re the Harringtons now.”

“The Harringtons.”

The name falls easily from your lips, but your quiet conversation is disrupted by the clanging of glasses about the room. Silverware all around the room taps against the delicate surfaces, a continuous tinkering around you both that has Steve’s mouth parting slightly. The pink of his tongue swipes briefly across his bottom lip before he closes it once more, lines of his throat bobbing on a swallow.

“They want us to kiss,” you tell him, sliding one palm down from where it rests around his neck until it curves around the edge of his jaw. You tip his head your way slightly, eyes scouring face. “And will probably be wanting us to do so all night. So…guess we might as well put on our best show, huh?”

It continues for the duration of the evening. Kiss after kiss bestowed by your husband. Constant expected affection. His fingers laced between your own, your hand on his thigh, his head on your shoulder, lips at your temple, lips on yours. Over and over again for hours. This time in a way that the slight buzz you have from your champagne could never erase—from either of your minds.

The evening itself becomes fun. Music changes and you’re brought onto the dance floor with your new husband and the friends from your hometown, as well as the ones he’s made along the way. Strangers who become dance partners. Bodies twirling and swirling along the floor, hands tangling with hands, laughter pulling from your lips. Like this, with Robin and Eddie’s forms near to your own, you feel lighter. Like this, when the song changes and you sing the words out loud in a silly rush with Steve in the center as those around you egg you on, you allow yourself to let go. To be free. To enjoy the evening that is about you and Steve.

Before long your feet are aching. Heels are discarded beneath you at your table, hand in Steve’s once more, as your closest friends give speeches. For Steve, it’s a rushed flurry of words from Robin. She speaks mostly to the closeness they’ve developed in the short time they’ve been friends, but a bond that has easily etched deep between the two of them. Speaks of your time as her roommate, about how she’d only been kidding when she said maybe you should get out there and start dating and quickly fall in love with her friend. Laughs easily when she says maybe she should have introduced them sooner.

It almost feels real, the words she speaks—the words Eddie speaks as he grabs the microphone and draws it close to his lips. He ties his hair back quickly, sweat from dancing clinging to the bangs dancing along his brow, and he clears his throat. Unrolls a piece of paper that’s on the tiniest scroll you’ve ever seen, but rolls all the way down to the floor when he unfurls it. The room bursts into enthusiastic laughter, your chest aching in adoration at the first words he speaks.

“You see…before I knew Steve, I knew his new wife. We grew up together in some shit hole town—I can curse, right? Sorry for all the kids here. Anyway, we grew up together…as I was saying. So when she asked me if I’d still love her if she did something stupid, I was thinking she meant a prank. Steve, just a heads up, your wife is a menace. A total damn menace. But I'm sure you knew that already.” He pauses for a moment as Steve chuckles, nodding his head in agreement, then continues, “And then she goes and falls in love with this guy. Big boy Harrington.”

Another round of laughter echoes in the room, and Steve grips your hand tighter in his where it rests against his lap.

“Pretty stupid, huh?” He chuckles to himself, folding the microphone against his waist for a moment as he bows, thanking the crowd for their involvement. “But it’s not that stupid when I really think about it. Because these two are some of the best people I know. Really and truly, and it makes sense that we’re all here right now. Right here in this room. Two people like this are meant to find each other. Drawn together by some…cosmic force. I mean, look at them! Have you ever seen two people so in love?”

The room leans in. Swells with emotion as Eddie sniffles audibly. This part, you know, is part of his speech. He’d read it to the two of you the night before, just as Robin had. Those around you don’t know, but you do. And still, your guests are nodding in agreement. Some are dabbing napkins into the corners of their eyes, swallowing down knots of emotion welling in their throats. Your own father glances your way with a fondness that cleaves you down the center, ears ringing as Eddie continues the rest of his speech, filling the cavity with guilt.

Clapping hands draw you from your silent reverie, followed only by the sound of metal meeting glass once more. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears as Steve slides a hand along the side of your face and leans down for the umpteenth time that evening, stilling your mind with the glide of his mouth against your own.

Soon enough, the bouquet has been tossed, the garter awkwardly collected from your thigh, and cake has been shared between the two of you, sugary remnants that linger in Steve’s hair (a mental note made to never mess with his hair ever again upon fear of death in your marriage) still visible as guest stand on either side of an aisle outside where a car is waiting for the two of you, lit sparklers dancing to life in their hands.

Your eyes meet his. “Ready to go?”

He grips your hand. “We’re in the home stretch now.”

Seventeen hours.

Seventeen hours is what it takes for you to arrive in the Maldives. Plus the time spent traversing you two across the main private island to your smaller bungalow only accessible by boat. You’ve barely had time to take in the beautiful sights, tiredness clinging to every limb, by the time the two of you are deposited on a dock leading to the place you’ll be staying for the next five days.

Steve clambers down onto the wood beside you, his own form looking a little worse for wear. He’s not spoken in quite some time. Neither of you have, really. Not since you returned to your penthouse after the wedding and slipped out of your wedding clothes. Nor when you parted down opposite ends of the hall. Even at the airport your conversation had been simple, pleasant, easy chatter about the weather and what you might do when you get to the island.

“Look how beautiful!” You enthuse, taking in the beautiful thatched roof of your private honeymoon suite on the water.

Pretty purple light douses the building, casts that same hue across the surface of the lagoon that laps against the edges of the boardwalk. From where you're standing, you can see another pathway leading to an outdoor gazebo and dining area draped in flowing cream curtains that billow in the gentle caress of the breeze around you.

You turn to look at your husband. “Wanna go explore?”

He yawns, head dipping as your guide lingers behind on the boat, wishing you two a lovely first evening on your honeymoon. Inside you’re met with a beautiful living room with sliding glass doors that lead to a deck, fully stocked with a jacuzzi, pool, and a sunken outdoor bath. Tired bones scream at the prospect of using them, though you proceed further into the suite. There’s a beautiful kitchen with the option of a private chef, a gym, an indoor spa you know you’ll be utilizing, the master bathroom with a tub that looks like it could fit ten people, and finally…the master bedroom.

The suddenness of your realization dawns, because your eyes immediately hone in on the one bed. A king bed, but only one all the same. You’re tired, you’re so tired that all you want is to peel back the covers and clamber in, but this throws a wrench into those plans. That clarity must also hit Steve, because he’s dropping his things to the ground and walking around the side of the bed to grip a pillow in hand, and begins making his way toward the entrance of the bedroom when you splutter audibly.

“Where are you going?”

He cards his fingers through his hair, exasperation lining those withdrawn features. “There’s a couch I saw in the living room.”

You shake your head, reaching out to cup his bicep. It instantly tenses under your fingertips. You don’t dwell on it, and instead argue, “You’re going to kill your back. We’re here for five days. We’re adults…we can share a bed.”

It’ll be like a sleepover. An adult sleepover where no sex is involved. Definitely not on your honeymoon—and definitely not with the man you married nearly twenty-four hours ago who you know very little about. You don’t know his birthday, his likes, dislikes…you don’t even know his favorite color, his favorite show, or if he’s a dog or cat person. Sleeping in the same bed as him will be a cake walk. Nothing to even worry about. A mere blip on the radar.

“I just…I don’t want…” He exhales deeply, and you finally notice the dark circles under his eyes. “You’ve already done enough by uprooting your life and marrying me—”

“It’s a bed, Steve.”

That seems to quiet the tension in his shoulders. They drop into a slouch, his form trailing back over to the side of the bed facing the wall when you clear your throat, awkward laugh breaking into the otherwise silent room.

“I like to sleep facing the wall,” you say gently, noticing the slight downturn of his lips. “But I’m assuming you do as well, so for the sake of both of our sanities I can sleep facing the door.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. No, I’ll take the door side. I can handle a few nights.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Happy wife, happy life, right?”

Your lip twitches upward. “You don’t snore, do you?” You ask teasingly.

“I…don't think so. But I’m sure you’ll tell me if I do,” he says, moving himself around the bed once more. He settles down against the mattress, testing the surface beneath his palm. “Bed is soft.”

“I would hope it would be for a private honeymoon villa. Your mother really went all out, huh?”

Your head tilts upward, taking in the vaulted ceilings. Where you’re standing you can even hear the sound of water lapping on the deck outside your windows.

“Pretty sure she’s secretly hoping I extend the Harrington line this week.”

Your nose wrinkles at that. “We’re absolutely making a pillow wall after that comment.”

“I’m joking,” he grumbles, body falling backward onto the bed.

One thing you’ve learned about Steve Harrington? He’s dramatic—impossibly so. Sort of like Robin, though he’s more frustrated outbursts versus her nervous or frantic ones.

“Pillow. Wall.”

“Fine.”

You walk over to the bed where your husband lays with his eyes closed and forearm strewn over his face. Bare knees brushing his, you reach out and tug on his free hand splayed near his hip, trying to drag him upward to no avail.

“Stop being a big baby.”

“We just flew for seventeen hours,” he argues, sitting upright.

“Steve. Lift your hulking ass off the bed. The sooner you get up, the sooner we go to bed.”

Your new husband grumbles to himself as he stands to his feet, helping you pull down the comforter on the top of the bed. Satisfied, you pluck a few of the extra pillows and make a line down the center of the mattress, pointing out your side and his, before slipping into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

You follow your normal routine. Wash your face, brush your teeth, slip on a moisturizer. You change out of your clothes next, opting for a matching set of shorts and a tank top, before tossing your street clothes into a laundry bin and sliding into your “Bride” slippers given as a gift by one of your friends at your bachelorette.

There’s a brief moment your eyes trail to the shower, where there’s glass paneling and a bench in the corner and then further to your right toward the gigantic bath tub you could practically swim in…and huff. Such a strange thing to be in this beautiful honeymoon hideaway with a man down the hall who regards you as a friend.

The same friend you now share a last name with.

Pushing the thoughts aside, you meander back down the hall to your bedroom for the next five days and come to find Steve laying on his stomach with his broad back on display, sheets hung low around his waist. You can map the various freckles and marks along his skin from where he rests, head resting on his forearm.

Smiling to yourself, you settle down into the bed and roll over to shut the lamp nearest your side of the bed. The room descends into darkness, and you whisper, “Goodnight,” before following him into sleep.

Pristine blue water surrounds you as far as the eye can see. The world is quiet from your home away from home for the week, save for the rustle of your book pages turning as you progress through the story and the sound of Steve’s fingers clacking across a keyboard. You exhale with a long huff, pushing your sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose.

Steve’s been working for hours now.

Since you both woke up, really.

Initially you had been a little miffed as you cooked up something for the two of you in your large kitchen, opting out of calling for a private chef to do so, and he pulled out his phone and laptop. You figured that was fine, up until the headphones went in while you sat down across from him and ended up sharing your breakfast in complete and utter silence.

On its own, that wasn’t so much an issue. What bothered you was your request to go outside and enjoy the sun together, and he’d agreed. In your mind, his intentions were genuinely to spend time with you. He’d slipped into a bathing suit and everything, only to join you on the sun deck with his leather work bag, laptop pulled out before you could even get in a word of protest.

“You know, most people enjoy their honeymoon,” you tease, turning the page in your book.

You find yourself needing to take a break anyway. The two couples in your book are on vacation themselves, and the main character kissed the dark haired hero on the makeshift dance floor after one of the hottest dancing scenes you’ve ever read occurred. And seeing as your own honeymoon is not heating up, you’re frustrated.

Increasingly so when he says, “This isn’t a typical honeymoon.”

“Weren’t you trying to wrap up the business before we came here?”

You recall a conversation you had wherein he said as much about wanting to make sure he’d be able to partake in the Maldives, but it seems those words were rang untrue.

“Yes, but…things happen.”

Your book thumps onto the lounger beside you. “You do realize everyone thinks we’re on a real honeymoon, right?”

He dips his head, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he glances over the top of his laptop to glance your way.

“Your coworkers are going to be confused why you’re logged in for work while you’re here. I mean—look how romantic this place is!”

“I’m not following…”

Huffing, you curl your legs beneath you, shifting your body toward him. “You’re supposed to be…you know, giving me attention every hour of the day while we’re here. Ravishing me. Going at it like—non-stop. It’s supposed to be overly romantic. Flowers on the bed, sexy showers, no sleep, naked trysts in the kitchen—”

“Fine.” He shuts the laptop. Tucks it away in his leather bag. “I’m logging off. Happy?”

You grin enthusiastically. “Very, husband.”

Steve disappears inside for a moment, then appears once more with his phone in hand. You’re about to argue with him when he shows you he’s playing a game of solitaire—which you snort at, shoving him when his eyes roll—and slip your sunglasses back on over your eyes. Opening your book, Steve pushes at the back cover, leaning in close to try and read the short description on the back of what lingers inside the dog-eared pages.

“What are you reading, wife?” You catch the slight uptick of his lip; the smirk he tries to hide.

Conversation. Small talk. You can work with that. “To Know You’re Mine.”

He tucks his phone near his thigh. “What’s it about?”

“Swingers.”

“That’s very vague,” he points out. “Can you give me a little more than just ‘swingers?’”

Your brow arches. “Do you really care?”

“No, I’m asking because I’m bored.”

Shifting your chairs closer to one another, you flip the book over so he can see the front cover and start pointing out the little cartoon characters on the nondescript covers on shelves everywhere nowadays.

“So there’s these two who are dating, right? Have been for a long time. But it’s her first boyfriend and they live together. Then one day, he takes her to his friend’s show. And that’s where you then meet these two characters. Just so happens, they start swinging and…well, it gets really crazy. Do you want me to tell you the rest? I’m about…halfway.”

He nods his head and you explain the entirety of the plot so far. And maybe your honeymoon isn’t perfect, maybe jet lag kicks in and Steve starts to nod off right around the time you start explaining the chapter you’re up to, and maybe you have to nudge him to come inside so he doesn’t get sunburned.

Maybe you watch him as he lays down on the living room couch and you drape a blanket over his slumbering form. Maybe you settle down on another couch and roll over onto your side to look at him, your book long discarded on the coffee table. Maybe you allow yourself to roam his features, so much younger than his twenty-seven years when he’s resting like this—when he doesn’t have a whole company on his shoulders.

Maybe you close your eyes too and join him.

Suffering from jet lag, your first day is spent mostly lounging around. Sleeping off the long trip you’ve taken to get to where you are. Steve sits on his couch near you, and you sit bundled in blankets on the couch opposite. You watch reality TV, a show where couples pair up in a villa and try to make romantic connections, and scroll through social media. Allow yourself to click through different stories from your friends accounts, glance at the few articles printed, and scour the comments beneath regarding your recent wedding.

TikTok is blowing up with videos of you and Steve photographed with Eddie. You are in your wedding gown and Steve is beside you, hand in yours. He looks happy. Genuinely happy in a way that has you smiling over to where he sits, hazel eyes drifting your way curiously. You don’t even know how they got access to them in the first place, and likely don’t even want to know.

Overall, it seems like most are impressed and craving more photos. Wanting the inside scoop on the famous Corroded Coffin member’s best friends. No one seems to question the validity of the marriage, though there are questions as to why so quickly, but are snuffed out by those who make note that it isn’t like the two of you haven’t been in the same social circles for some time now. That it was a matter of time before the two of you realized love was always there, right in front of the both of you, and all you needed to do was reach out and grasp it.

By the next morning, you’re both awake and ready to take on the day, ordering a boat to the main island for your spa day. The prospect of a massage after the weeks spent planning your wedding sounds lovely, and you tell Steve as much, leaning into his frame as your guide asks how the first day of your honeymoon was.

“Amazing,” you gush, though you spent another night with a mountain of pillows between you and the man beside you. The only reason you’re close now is because they’re watching your interactions, gauging the newlyweds. “It’s so beautiful here.”

And that’s that, until you arrive at the spa booked for a private afternoon with your new husband, compliments of your new mother-in-law and the travel agent she’d worked alongside to make sure your accommodations were all you could ever dream of.

The only detail left out on your itinerary was the fact it was a nude spa. Fully. Part of some “bonding exercise” as the attendant explained before the two of you entered the hot spring, freshly massaged and draped in the coziest of robes to ever grace your skin.

You’re left alone with Steve in a darkened room warmed by the steam rising from the water’s surface, eyes dragging along his presently clothed form.

“I’ve seen your chest? You sleep shirtless, which…I mean, is fine. And uh…you’ve seen me in a bikini. It’s kind of like that, no?”

“Except now we’ll be naked.”

“Well, there’s that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“I mean, it’s not that serious. No cause for alarm bells,” you say, trying to ease the tension rolling off of Steve’s shoulders in waves. “I mean, you could always turn around and I can get in first. Just…eyes above the water level only.”

Steve rubs a hand along the back of his neck, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay, you go first.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, and you rush over the small deck to turn him around so he’s facing the wall. With his back turned, you untie the robe and drape it across a rack, then move over to the water’s edge to dip your toes into the water with a sigh. Warm water laps at your skin, coaxes you further into the hot spring until you’re settled down on a bench, water up to your shoulders, hopefully obscuring the rest of you from view.

“Okay, I’m in,” you announce. “You can get in. I’ll close my eyes.”

You pinch them shut in emphasis, clapping your hands over your face just in case. The sound of his bare feed padding across the deck reaches your ears, followed by the splash of what you assume to be a foot stepping into the water. It’s followed by a low exhale.

You pop your eyes open momentarily and Steve’s voice has you clapping them shut frantically. A shout of, “I’m not in all the way!”

“What are you waiting for?! Jesus to come back?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, to adjust to the warm water. It’s cold out here.”

You scoff. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see your dick.”

“Can you not?”

“What? I didn’t!”

“I’m glad you didn’t!”

You scoff. “I mean, ow. That’s kind of rude. I’m your wife.”

“Did you bump your head and forget the part where we’re on a fake honeymoon, following our fake wedding?” He whisper-yells, still not moving down the stairs leading into the sauna.

“I didn’t say I want to see it! Don’t get too big of a head now,” you amend, eyes narrowing. “Steve, just get in, please.”

Your sigh of exasperation has him moving swiftly. Water ripples around your shoulders, gentle caresses against skin as he settles down beside you and announces you can open your eyes.

“There’s this dinner spot I think we should try out tonight. It’s on the main island, but it’s supposed to be really good,” he says after a while, drawing your attention to him. “I figure it could be nice to spend an afternoon out. Together.”

“Is my husband asking me on a date?” You tease, watching as his head submerges itself under the water, leaving you in solitude. “I’m kidding. Kidding, Steve. This seems on brand; my husband trying to escape me on our honeymoon.”

He emerges with a laugh, hair slick against his head, broad chest heaving up and down as he catches his breath. It’s then your eyes wander southward. Hitch on the hair lining his chest, the way it trails below the surface of the water, hinting at a downward path your heart clenches at the mere prospect of following.

Steve’s…well, your husband is handsome. You’ve known since you met him that first time nearly a year ago. But now, sitting there, with the ring you got him your ring on his finger as he cards his fingers through his hair. It…shouldn’t do anything, but it does. Bubbles to life feelings you would rather push away, sweep under a rug, ignore.

Deflect, deflect, deflect.

It’s easier this way.

Because he’s not your real husband in the ways that matter.

Capturing your current distraction as you continue to mindlessly stare, Steve taps your shoulder, drawing your gaze back to his face, your mouth twisting into a frown.

“Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t looking I—”

Scrambling to escape the moment, you start to rise a bit from the water, only for Steve’s gaze to stray. “Eyes up here, Harrington,” you tease, shoving at him and forcing him deeper into the water, hazel eyes bright and wide, holding you in place there in that sauna.

He laughs, spluttering as his head dips beneath the surface.

A deep, hearty, lyrical sound.

That laughter continues until dinner, where Steve brings you to a lovely outdoor restaurant on the beach. All around tables lit by candlelight outline the sandy floor. Little twinkling lights illuminate the space, hidden in the trees, curling around their slender trunks. It’s gorgeous, and you say so as your waitress congratulates you on your marriage while she seats the two of you, offering a bottle of champagne gifted by your mother-in-law.

Until it stops because of a simple sentence that makes Steve stiffen on the spot: “Are those the new Harringtons?”

It’s supposed to be easy. A business deal with a contract like the ones he’d grown up reading. An exercise his father had him do often: would hand him a detailed contract, pages thick, and see if Steve could find the faults within. It’s why he knows the one he drafted up for his own marriage was—or rather, should have been—perfect. But marriage contracts don’t account for persistent wives. For the types of women who seep into the crevices of your life and make themselves known.

And that, he finds quickly, is you. You’re vibrant and joyful and downright fun to be around, and try as he might to deny it, finds himself enjoying your company. But he’d told himself, from the moment on that rooftop when he’d asked you to marry him, that these things could only grow complicated if he allowed them to. If he allowed himself to open up, to feel, to wonder.

Such as this moment, presently staring him in the face. You are in that pretty, off the shoulder cream dress he’d seen you unpack back in the bedroom that clings to your every curve, as Carol and her husband, Tommy H, settle down at the table beside the two of you. And, naturally, you slip into easy conversation with them. Chipper chatter as you catch up on the happenings of your honeymoon so far.

“Isn’t it just so beautiful here? It’s actually our first time here too, but it has been so lovely. Have you two been able to get out and see anything? I’m sure you’re still in that first few days of your trip bliss,” Carol asks, waggling her brows teasingly.

“I…uh, what?” You pause for a moment, reaching across the table to grab Steve’s hand in yours. As if you’ve just remembered you’re married and are meant to play the part of a newlywed. “Oh, yeah…so we have a private bungalow on the water. So you can imagine…”

“That sounds so romantic. Ugh, honey—” She reaches over to clasp her hand around her own husband’s forearm fondly, as if she’s reliving memories of their own newly wedded bliss. “If you haven’t seen any beaches yet, you definitely need to. The water was so perfect. We also tried out this really lovely breakfast place. Great for a morning meal and it’s connected to the sweetest trail. Such pretty scenery here, isn’t there, Tommy?”

Tommy nods, turning to Steve when the girls slip into easy conversation, grinning widely. “She seems great, buddy. So happy for you.”

“She really is,” Steve admits, catching the profile of your pretty face. The upturn of your lips that has his heart careening into the pit of his stomach.

He hates when it does that, and it seems to do so all the time now.

He knows it’s not coincidental.

And that’s the problem, now isn’t it?

The charm you possess. The way Carol and Tommy talk to you like they’ve known you for years as opposed to the few minutes it takes to learn their background history. To find out that they know Steve from the private school they went to in the city. You quickly learn Steve and Tommy played baseball together, before Steve went to business school and Jason pursued the major leagues. They’ve not seen each other in years, so there are no hard feelings about not being invited to the wedding, but they’re happy for the two of you.

Steve told himself marrying you would be easy because he knew little of you. You’re his best friend Eddie’s best friend. You were previously Robin’s roommate. But up until your vows at the altar you were a name his friends would bring up in conversation, and now you’re central to a majority of his conversations, share a last name with him, have now shared a bed with him.

Luckily, there are only a few more days left of your honeymoon. A few until he’s back in the city, back to work, and back to normalcy. You’ll be heading back to school, he’ll have a semblance of reality he feels he’s been lacking, so wrapped up in wedding planning and get togethers, and he’ll have no questions as to why he’s finding it so hard to keep your marriage strictly as what it was always intended to be: a business deal.

For now he’ll have to deal with you grabbing his hand flirtatiously when an Emcee announces a competition for that evening that manages to put a new glint in yours and Carol’s eyes. An expectant glee for him to participate with you, keen on competition, despite his grunts of protest.

For now he’ll have to deal with the way your eyes meet him as a coconut is pressed between the two of you and the game of the evening is announced. Coconut smoochie, wherein two couples compete to bring the coconut between their bodies up to their mouths for a kiss, without using their hands.

For now, he’ll have to deal with the smirk that lines your lips as he starts shifting this way and that, coconut rolling between the two of you, sliding against his abdomen, his chest, your chest, your breasts.

For now, he’ll have to ignore the way you grin to yourself when Carol and Tommy drop their coconut behind the two of you, how satisfied you are when Steve manages to get the coconut under his chin and pinches it there.

“Harrington, you’re not so bad at this,” you tease, chest against his, hips against his.

One wrong move and—

“Can’t believe you got me to do this.”

“You’re on your honeymoon. Live a little. Life doesn’t have to be numbers and contracts all the time.”

And you’re right. He knows this. But he hates the way his stomach twists violently, how his heart clenches as your lips press against the coconut and the other side is pressed to his mouth. Hates how when you’re announced the winners and the coconut drops to the floor between you, his palms sweat as your arms come to curl around his waist.

Because you’re his wife, yes.

Technically.

On paper, at least.

But that’s all it can be.

This affair, this agreement—it has an expiration date.

Three years.

Three years and then you’ll be gone.

Lost to him, like so many others.

For the sake of your agreement, it has to remain that way.

Light seeps in through your bedroom window. A heaviness around your waist, like a weighted blanket, keeps you still. Comforted. Warm. A sigh spills from your lips, pleasant and happy. Contented. Burrowing deeper into that warm, you hum, relishing in the feeling of it. Of being cocooned, safe, held close.

Held close.

Held—

Head shifting, you come to notice Steve flush against your back. His hips against your backside, thighs tangling with yours, and that weight around you? Yeah, it’s connected to a wrist, a bicep—because it’s an arm. Steve’s broad arm cages you in against his bare chest. His warm, freshly tanned, bare chest. Those fingers around your hip curl tighter. The arm around you tugs you closer, though you’re not sure how much closer two people can be without climbing into the other person, and you realize the very…interesting situation you two have found yourselves in.

His body against yours. Your body flush against him. His breath in your hair, along your ear, his mouth near the hinge of your jaw. If he moves even the slightest bit, they’ll make contact with your skin. And you’ve kissed Steve enough times now to know said kisses are dangerous. They’ll only lead to dreaming, to questioning, to wondering.

You don’t have time for any of those things.

Your honeymoon is coming to a close soon enough. Only a few days left now, and then you’ll be back to your own lives. To normalcy. Or as normal as two people freshly married can be.

“Steve?” Your voice is quiet in an attempt to not startle the man holding you.

His mouth shifts near your ear. A low yawn spills against your jaw, heat fanning across your skin. “Yeah?”

“You’re squeezing me,” you point out, wiggling your body for emphasis. “Our pillow wall fell down in our sleep.”

But it’s in the wiggling against his solid form that you realize there are actually three people in the room. Your husband, yourself, and the warm, thick, long, and presently hard erection pressed against your bottom.

It’s also when you hear the slow exhale of your husband’s breath along the hollow of your ear. A telltale sound, even in the short time you’ve been married, that signals he’s hardly awake. Still in that wispy world between waking and sleep. Deciding to not rouse him further, you settle back down into his embrace.

Or rather, try to. When you do so, your body freezes on the spot. Cold water seemingly drops from a bucket onto your shared bed. Because Steve whimpers against your shoulder.

Whimpers.

A breathy, needy sound that has your stomach fluttering. And further still, as your heart rate picks up, realization dawns. Your knee involuntarily searches for its twin beneath the covers, thighs clenching around Steve’s thigh. This time, he moans. A deep rumble in his chest that vibrates along your spine, has your fingers clutching at his arm slung low around your hips.

“Steve,” you try again, pleading with whoever listens from above as Steve’s hips roll forward, cock pressing against your backside again, making your pussy flutter around nothing. Betrays you and your damn emotions. Your pillow swallows your moan, desire racketting in your veins. “Fu—Steve.”

Awareness grows. Waking follows. Steve starts to shift behind you, arm loosening from around your waist, chest slipping from your back. His form moves toward the headboard and you try to not miss the loss of his warmth so deeply, try to not linger on the instantaneous loneliness that creeps when the king sized bed grows even larger before you, the gaping maw between you created by lies and acts, touted before your closest family and friends never so insurmountable.

As you rise from your own pillow and look at him, he tugs the blankets higher up on his hips, hands moving to the bedside table to grab his glasses and phone. Your mouth opens to speak, to reassure him it’s fine, that it happens, that it’s just a silly pillow wall, but he mutters shower and slips out of the room and down the hall.

Huffing, you roll onto your back, listening to the sound of your racing heartbeat coming back to a normal rhythm. It’s joined a moment later by the water running, the gentle rainfall of the shower head in the master bathroom sparking to life, likely steaming that room.

You don’t want to think about it.

Try hard to not think about the figure of your husband slipping into the stream. Try not to imagine the sight of his bare chest on display, rivulets of water dripping down his sculpted abdominals, fingers running through the hair growing longer since you’ve met him on his head, along the stubble that’s lining his jaw and upper lip now. Try to not imagine him still pressed against you, rolling his hips against yours, drawing a quiet moan from you. Definitely don’t imagine what he’s likely doing in the shower to alleviate his…situation. Your fingers edge along the hem of your sleep shorts as you try to block out the image of his corded arms straining in the shower as those long fingers curl tight around his c—

No!

Absolutely not! Not going there.

NOPE.

The day before your flight home arrives sooner than you expect it to. Five days of…well, maybe not marital bliss, but something, passing before your eyes. After the night you woke to Steve’s arms around your waist, the pillow wall became a pillow mountain.

And, though you loathe to admit it, you hate the mornings that follow. They remind you of what you can expect once you’re back in the city with him. Nights where you slip to one end of the hall and him the other, where you pass each other on the way to grab coffee in the morning, where you wave goodbye before one of you leaves and silence follows.

Steve wakes early the morning of your last day, mutters that he’s going to spend some time in the private gym, leaving you to make breakfast for when he gets out. With both a plate of eggs and coffee brewing for your husband, you open your laptop with the intention of making sure all your classes have been set up.

What greets you there isn’t…well, it’s not unexpected. It was part of your deal, but you hadn’t anticipated him paying the bill already.

Thousands of dollars were paid, bringing your total due for the semester down to nothing.

Zero.

Zilch.

Eyes burning, you close the lid of your laptop, sniffling as Steve enters the room and thanks you, taking a bite of his breakfast.

“You didn’t have to cook again,” he says. “We haven’t called the private chef at all this week.”

You shrug, wiping at your under eyes quickly. “I don’t mind. I like cooking. I’ll have to go shopping when we get home.”

Home.

That’s right.

The walls of your penthouse that feel so far from it are, in fact, your home.

“Don’t drive yourself crazy cooking all the time. I order out or go out most nights anyway.”

“Right,” you say, dipping your head and pouring him a cup of coffee. “I’ll be busy with school soon anyway.”

“Exactly.” He sips his drink. “That should be your main focus.”

“Right.”

Awkward.

Stilted.

Uncomfortable.

Those feelings linger as you step out onto the hammock outside, dangling over the water below. Your book is back on your lap, Steve’s on your right, freshly brought up to speed on where you’re at. The main character broke up with her boyfriend and told the main male lead that they need to stop seeing each other.

Needing to take a break from it, tears gathering in your eyes, you tip your gaze up to the sky. The sun beats heavily on your head, warms your skin, and makes you sleepy.

Steve turns his head your way, fingers trailing along your forearm, breaking you out of your silent reverie. “Hey. Are you okay? You’ve been a little quiet this morning.”

“Yeah.” You nod, rolling over onto your side. Reaching up to place your book on a safer spot of the deck, you shift closer to him, lips turning downward. “I saw you paid my semester—”

“I told you I would. It was part of the deal.”

The deal.

The arrangement.

“I know, I just…seeing it was kind of overwhelming. In a good way. In an…I’m really grateful kind of way.” A slow exhale spills from your lips, chest falling with the effort of it. “I know we didn’t get married in the most, uh, conventional way, but—there are things that this will allow me to do that I wouldn’t be able to otherwise. It’s a big weight lifted off my shoulder. So. I guess thank you for marrying me.”

The corner of his lip twitches upward as your husband rolls over onto his side, sunglasses blocking half his face from view. “This is also a weight off my shoulders, too. I think you forget that. I needed to get married for the company—”

“A company you don’t want,” you tease, wrinkling your nose.

“A company I don’t want,” he agrees, chuckling lightly. “But I’d rather it stay out of my cousin’s hands. So thank you for marrying me.”

“Ready to go home, Mr. Harrington?”

He snorts. “Sure, Mrs. Harrington.”

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #modern!steve harrington #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #modern day!au

444 notes · View notes

randoimago · 8 months

Text

Day 9 - Fake Dating

Fandom: Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Character(s): Link

Type of Request: 31 Days of Oc-Trope-R

Note(s): The requester wanted Reader helping Link fend off his suitors and I love this idea so much. Also, I make Link talk a tiny bit in this (like only a few words at a time) Also Also I felt so bad for Paya while writing this ngl (sorry Paya!!)

You blamed it on how nice he is to everyone. Oh, you need ten apples? He's doing it. One hundred crickets to impress a girl? Done. It's insane what he'll do (you're still annoyed that you watched him cut grass for hours to get the crickets to only actually give the guy ten).

But then he was going to Karkariko Village next. He seemed nervous as you two traveled on the new horse he tackled and won over. Usually, he liked using his Sheika sleight, but you both quickly found out that you are not transported with him, and he had to hurry to get back to you before the Guardian shot you. It was not a fun time.

"What's wrong, Link?" You ask as your arms are wrapped around his waist while he directed the horse. He's quiet for a bit as he ponders the question. Or maybe he heard you and was choosing to be quiet like he sometimes does. A sigh is heard from him as he looks over his shoulder. You did not realize how closely you were holding him and tried to put some space between you.

"Be my girlfriend," he says. No lead in, no 'hey I have a favor', just a flat-out proposal and your jaw dropped. Link quickly realized his mistake and pink crossed his cheeks as he shook his head. "Pretend! Pretend to be my girlfriend!"

You had a million questions and were starting to ask before Link filled you in. Apparently almost every girl and woman (some men too) in Karkariko village has a crush on Link. Well, maybe not Impa, but that's still a large number. And Link does not know how many excuses he can give so he wants you to pretend to be his girlfriend just to keep them off of him.

And you agreed.

You don't know what came across your mind to agree, but you did. You and Link talked about things like how you started dating or other couple questions that might be asked. It was a bit weird, but ended up being fun? Mostly because he's a dork and you teased him quite a bit when he talked about how he didn't realize a lizalfo tail couldn't be used as food for some reason and a fairy had to save him after eating the dubious food.

When you make it to the village, you don't quite understand what Link needed help fending off. The people seemed nice, some kids wanted to play tag (and you found it adorable how Link did so), and there was a shrine that Link stole the apples from. It wasn't until you and Link went into a shop that you realized.

"Why hello, Link, here to fill up your quiver?" She practically purrs and your jaw drops at how much confidence she has while Link pushes you forward.

"Um, actually, we would like some arrows please," you say, and she glances to you in disappointment at you being between her and Link, who she still tries to eye as a piece of meat.

"And you are?" She asks, her tone a bit bored, but you can tell she tries her best to be nice to a new customer. Even if you're a bit annoyed with how she's treating you.

"His partner," you tell her, and she pauses as Link breathes a sigh of relief. She glances between the two of you and, without thinking, Link holds your hand.

Sure, he's held hands with you before. Mostly so you didn't fall off a cliff or when the wind was really bad. But this context felt different. Well, you're fake dating so it really shouldn't be that weird, but the issue is that you liked it.

You hear her mutter something about "typical men breaking a woman's heart" but you ignore it as Link buys up about every arrow in the store. You thank her as he drags you outside and sighs.

"'Fill up your quiver'." You are so quick to tease him, and his face goes a dark red as he puts his hands over his face to hide. You're interrupted from your next teasing as you hear a gasp and you glance over and see a, well, a very pretty girl.

"Hello Paya," Link greets politely to the girl while continuing to hide his face and her face gets redder than his is. And you realize that she likes him too. It's difficult not to realize it as Link gives you a look for help and you smile gently at the girl, Paya.

"Hi," you say, and she looks to you in confusion as her eyes glance between you and Link and how close you stand together. And you watch as her heart seems to shatter, but she keeps giving a smile. Your own heart aches with her reaction.

"Hello, I'm Paya. It was nice seeing you again, Link." It was sweet how she greeted you if only tears weren't forming in her eyes as she quickly walked off and Link sighed, muttering that he'll have to talk to her later.

You keep walking through the village with Link, continuing to be his fake girlfriend but the smile on your face felt faker. Your mind kept going back to the shattered look on Paya's face and you imagined yourself in her shoes. Link is your friend; one you've traveled with for so long. How would you react if he suddenly showed up with someone he looked really close to? You didn't like those thoughts.

Eventually you and him walk out of the village, going to where the fairy shrine is so he can catch some just in case. And you see the shining lights surrounding him and how handsome his face looks as he glances in the pool of the fountain. And you realize your "just friends" thoughts are full of crap.

You're silent as you two walk away from the fountain, following the path to a little overlook. Link sighs in relief as he sits on the ground, taking a break from the excitement while you stay standing and overthinking.

"What's wrong?" Link asks and you hate how perceptive he is. Or at least, when it comes to you, he seems overly preceptive. You force a smile and sit next to him.

"I was thinking of Paya, she looked heartbroken," you tell him and Link sighs at that.

"I know." Is his reply and you can hear the heaviness in his tone, as if he also feels guilt, but he doesn't say anything afterwards. Nothing about telling the truth or even hoping she'll be okay. You know earlier he said he'd talk to her, but you don't know what that entails. The only thing you're thinking of right now is, you don't want to end up like her, the poor girl.

"It'd be unfair if she learned that we are lying about dating," you say and Link glances over at you, giving a slow nod. "So, we should actually date." His eyes look like they'll pop out of his head.

"What?!" You wince at his reaction and are about to apologize and start to think 'maybe I will end up like Paya' but then you see the massive blush on his face again.

"Well, we've traveled together for so long and-"

"Let's date." He cuts you off from the long speech you're about to give to explain your feelings. You're a bit annoyed by how quickly he recovered, but that goes away as you sigh and lean against him, something you did as friends but now it feels different, but a good different.

#randoimago 31 days of october #legend of zelda x reader #breath of the wild x reader #botw x reader #link x reader #botw link x reader #loz link x reader

206 notes · View notes

gvtted-ratz · 3 months

Text

read all our tags/ratings. they r important n give u all u need 2 decide if u wanna actually read or not. do not like the tags/rating? do not read.

FEM ALIGNING/IDENTIFYING PPL (unless mutuals/friends) DNI WITH OUR MLM WORKS. fem ppl can still request tho. respect our wishes or get blocked. yes we do read/check everything. we tag appropriately/use tags that go with our posts.

want 2 request? find the rules: here!

want 2 see all the fics? find em: here!

Mission Failed

Simon “Ghost” Riley x M!Reader x John “Soap” MacTavish

Last Edited: 17/03/2023

TW: slight angst, foul language, violence, blood, gore, gunshot wound, death mention

@denzellovehazelnuts: Hi! hope you have a good day! Can you do a poly "Ghost x male reader x Soap" (if you comfortable writing poly relationship) with slow burn, angst and fluff at the end? Where Ghost and Soap already in a relationship until the reader came into their team The two male thought the reader wasn't talkative around people but few weeks later, things change at first Ghost seems interesting in the male skill using gun and how fast he can run and Soap like the male sense of humour. Both of them thought it only a friendship type of things. Until the male save Ghost from the enemy on the battlefield and him laughing at Soap jokes. That when the two males known what happen to them, they weren't sure if M/n would comfortable in a relationship with them, so they start doing small things for him like making coffee or helping training,.. And M/n notice it, he even started to fall for the both of them. But he keep denying the things they did for him because he thought that what friend do. and M/n don't think he is ready for a new relationship, he wasn't sure he is good enough for them (the male got trauma from the previous relationships) (more angst please, I would like to suffer for a little bit) (・∀・) After a while, the three of them got into a mission together, everything went good until the male got shot. He thought he going to be de@d soon (only to find out that he only got shot at his leg) so M/n confessed how he feel about the two of them. (andddd I don't know what to do with the ending cause I'm ran out of idea. I would want to see how the treated each other when got into a relationship. Sorry about the grammar, English isn't my first language)

Word Count: 2,654

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: hiiii! i dont do heavy angst but i did do some u know? slow burn it is!!! srry it took so long! irl things hold me back a lot. N since u wanted slow burn, n with all that uve put (about 350 words of things i can work on/with 2 get this drawn out as a full-on fic!! yay!) i had 2 like. try n put all u wanted in there so yea! hope u enjoy!! also! i threw in some other characters like gaz n roach. hope u dont mind em being in here since this is like, a mash of cod n codmw2 (canon? what cancon?) cause i rlly do wanna put some other characters in here that i find interesting n build some sort of character/personality 4 the reader. reader deserves some cool friends-2-brothers!

At first, you hadn’t wanted to join Task Force 141. You were comfortable with your position as the quiet, but light on your feet, knife specialist. Well, that wasn’t truly your title. You were just good with knives. You weren’t too shotty with a gun either. Either weapon being in your hands meant blood was going to be shed. KorTac needed those types, especially those who could use it to get in as well as out; you also couldn’t forget about using your skills to get information. Torturing the prisoners wasn’t something you particularly liked, but you were good at it too. Combining your skills with knives and guns, it truly was hell for anyone on the opposite side of your team. You also couldn’t forget that, out of the others, you were much faster. Sure, some could still beat you at times but that didn’t mean you weren’t good. Bets had been constantly taking place with you, along with others as it was one of the few things any of you could do to pass the time in a less-than-bloody manner.

The transfer from KorTac to Task Force 141 wasn’t smooth. Horangi, or Kim Hong-jin, didn’t let you go for weeks. You were part of his team, one of his men. The leader of KorTac is what most of you saw him as. He knew many of you like the back of his hand. Not to mention, a tiger can be cruel but would never devour its cubs for no reason, well, as some say. As far as you knew, because you were all together, you were a team and therefore family. While there were others who didn’t get along, out in the field, all of you had each other’s back. Very rarely did anyone get left to perish to the enemy.

With all that in mind, it took weeks for him to let you go. More or less, Laswell was the one to convince him; that is if you call bringing each plus every person in KorTac to ruins as “convincing”. She wanted you on a team she could keep tabs on you; doubting her power and skills was out of the question. Which meant leaving KorTac to ensure that everyone else was free from possible imprisonment or death was necessary.

Fitting in wasn’t too hard considering most of the people there were from all over the place. While it’s odd for a member from another team to suddenly appear on another, it didn’t bother most of the others. Just from a glance, you could tell who was into who; as well as who exactly was in a relationship. A man by the name of Ghost including another called Soap, you knew were together. Soap flirted with almost everyone, though it was more teasing and lighthearted. With Ghost though? The flirting went up by twenty percent. His dial for teasing went up tenfold too. Meanwhile, Ghost hardly looked at anyone else, nevertheless, stare at them unless they were the Scottish man. Frankly, you didn’t mind. Who were you to judge the two? Especially when they were good at what they did.

It takes weeks before you’re comfortable enough to so much as talk to anyone 141. Gaz, or Kyle as Soap tended to call him when annoyed, is the first to so much as approach you. While the others are interested, you coming from KorTac had put them off for a bit. Gaz on the other hand treats you like a brother. He’ll throw his arm around your shoulder, dragging you around as he laughs about the past or even at your jokes. At meals, he always throws a raised eyebrow at those who look at you oddly when you’re quiet or sitting with the man. He treats you like you’re part of the team, furthermore, that truly means more than anything to you.

The man is just as bloodthirsty as you are. His stories of falling out of planes along with taking out enemies only lead to you looking up to your new teammate and brother. His tales of meeting Captain Price, past missions, a few tidbits of him being with the SAS, together with some metals he’s earned, only makes you want to pry more stories from the man; not like you don’t have to try. Simply asking about his stories leads to at least an hour-long spill of them from the guy.

And with his stories comes a few of your own. You don’t share much of them, knowing Gaz spreads them to the rest of the team with more dramatics to try to get you to interact with the others. Something you do learn about him that you always keep in mind from his stories is that his blood type is B Negative and shooting any dog, wild or not, makes him feel a bit guilty; he had to shoot one a while ago and apologised to the poor mutt after having to put it down to finish his mission.

With all that he’s shared and how the both of you see each other as brothers, it’s only fair that you let yourself talk to the others in the team. Though your words are short, along with your jokes being told quickly to distract yourself from the stressful situations, you allow yourself to slowly relax with the others. Gaz’s constant support helps you finally allow yourself to bond with your new team and family. It’s only after a mission that things change.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Take the left! Keep your heads down and keep movin’!” Captain Price’s voice rings out in your earpiece. Everything has gone to shit. The intel you’ve been getting was entirely a trap. You’re running through an underground tunnel, Ghost and another man named Roach is running in front of you.

Roach is a quiet man, never talking or letting out a sound, but semi-friendly. From his actions and what you’ve been told of him, he does his best to complete the missions to the tea. The few interactions you’ve had with him were silent but nice. Whether or not he’s mute has crossed your mind time and mind again but you don’t ask; you’d rather leave the man be. After all, he has become something like a friend maybe even another brother.

“Copy. We’re nearly out. Roach and [Redacted] are with me,” Ghost responds, quickening his pace. The rifle smacks against your back as you speed up to keep up with the other two men. Despite the situation, the three of you remain as calm as you can be.

“You’re bein’ tracked like a rabbit is by a hound, Ghost! Move it!” The captain’s orders are clear and the worry is read between the lines. If you three don’t get out, it’s a huge blow to 141. Not only that, but Soap loses his boyfriend, Gaz loses two of his best friends as well as brothers, you three lose your lives, and Task Force 141 loses three of its members. Dying isn’t an option here.

“We have company,” Your words are muffled by your gear but the two soldiers in front of you hear them in their own pieces.

“Fuckin’ hell-” Ghost’s sentence gets cut off by gunfire from behind. Turning around, you fire the Lachmann Sub in your possession.

“We gotta go! They’re gaining!” You clip one of the enemies in the shoulder and another is hit in the stomach. Picking up the speed, the three of you try to beat them out of the tunnel. You cover the back, hoping the two get out before you. If you get surrounded, it’s over.

Thankfully, they haven’t reached the other end of the tunnel as the three of your burst out of the exit. You grab a grenade, pull the pin and throw it in the tunnel. As soon as it leaves your hands, you’re running faster to get to Roach and Ghost before anything else can; one arm wraps around each of your teammates’ necks, dragging them down to the ground as the little metal bomb goes off. Debris flies everywhere, looking for an area to land after being shot out of its place.

With the tunnel exist now collapsed along with no more flying rock and metal, you release the men. “How copy?” Crackles through each of your earpieces. You knock your forearm into Roach’s upper arm, eyes crinkling from your smile. He gives you a grateful nod, standing. You smack Ghost’s arm as he stands, glad to have escaped the enemies for now.

“Tunnel’s collapsed. We’re good. Ready for extraction, Sir,” Blunt and straight to the point are the skull-masked man’s words.

“Good. Heli’s close by. Move to the edge of the town.” With the three of you alive, you can practically feel Captain Price’s relief.

“Copy that, Captain,” Your muffled response comes before Ghost can send in his own. He scans you from the corner of his eye but doesn’t give you a retort. You do, however, hear a small huff of air leave him. You throw your arm around Roach’s neck again, puffs of air leaving you from happiness, meanwhile, his arm comes around your back. Seems the three of you live another day.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

After that mission, Ghost tends to lurk around you more than he originally had. It didn’t help that Soap tends to tag along as well. Thankfully, he finds your jokes hilarious if the loud, boisterous laughter he lets out all the time tells you anything. His teasing ends up piling onto you as well. Before, it was light as well as spread out. Now, it’s almost like he’s talking to Ghost with all the teasing and flirting he now does with you. His boyfriend hardly seems concerned but rather encourages his behaviour. Of course, that doesn’t mean he goes easy on you when the two of your spar together. He’s dead serious when it comes to sparring; it’s only a reminder that while he does good off, he’s just as dangerous as the rest of them.

The two men seem to be fixated on wanting to help you out in training as well. More pointers plus tips are thrown your way when you practice with either of them. Sometimes, they’ll even make you coffee for those sleepless nights. Mentioning such things to Gaz and Roach only leads to your sworn brothers giving you knowing looks or a few teasing words; Gaz is the one with the teasing remarks while Roach pats your shoulder in a mocking but teasing “you poor man” way. Neither seems keen on wanting to spill the tea on why the Scottish and British men have been more affectionate.

While you enjoy their kind gestures, including their company, you’re not sure if you’re ready to admit to yourself, or them, about such feelings or relationships. On the surface, you truly do want to ask them if this is some sort of flirting schtick they have going on. Deep down though, the idea of being with anyone again makes your stomach fill with the lead. How could you enter another relationship? After the last one ended with your soon-to-be fiance’s brains splattered all over a brick wall. How can you move past that? How can you allow yourself to find someone like them? Or even better than them? The answer to that is a sigh alongside a bitter smile. The ring hiding under your tactical gloves seems to burn your skin. Truly, how can you let your first love go? After all, if you weren’t good enough to keep them alive, how can you keep these two from meeting the same gorey end?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“To think I’d find myself here… How fuckin’ funny,” You mumble. Another mission, this one just like all the others. Well, it would have been if you hadn’t been shot. The blood leaking from your leg alongside a knife wound to your side leave you in pain. Feeling weak isn’t something uncommon but neither is it constantly happening. Words are being spoken to you through your headset. You were to be the lookout but ended up being the enemy's first target.

“How copy?” Rings in your ears. Your eyes stare blankly in front of you. You feel pathetic. Too tired to talk. Too tired to get up. You just sit, popped up against a tree in the heavily wooded area. You’ve failed, failed, failed.

“C’mon, Mate, how do ya copy?” Soap’s voice is worried and winded. He and Ghost are the people you’ve been teamed up with and you’ve failed.

“[Redacted], how copy?” The next tone is Ghost’s. It sounds slightly strained.

“Mission Failed,” You croak, head tilted back and against the tree.

“Status report, Mate. Where are ya?” He’s rushing, possibly panicked now.

“Got two wounds. Gunshot to the thigh. Knife to the side. Bleeding pretty bad, Soap.” You close your eyes, sighing.

“State your location.” The Brit seems to be just as worried as his Scottish counterpart.

“Dunno. Woods. Against a tree… There’s a lot of blood. Feelin’ woozy.” When you open your eyes, your sight is blurred. You’re losing too much blood.

“Keep talkin’ to us then, yeah? You’ll make it out. We’ll get out together,” The Scot’s words, though hopeful, only make you scoff quietly.

“You know… If I get outta here… Think we can go out sometime? Bourbon and whiskey? The three of us?”

“When we get out, [Redacted]. There’s no if here,” The masked man makes it sound final like there’s no way you’ll die on them.

“Yeah… Yeah..” You don’t say anymore, everything slowly hazing away. It’s like your floating in winter with how cold you feel.

“[Redacted]? Don’t sleep! C’mon! Keep ya eyes open!” Soap’s words fade away along with everything else. All that waits is cold darkness.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“So… Think you can handle our drinking date after this?” Soap perches on the side table, messing with a lighter he took from Ghost.

“After he’s healed, Johnny. No alcohol before,” A semi-scolding is all the man gets from the brooding Ghost. You laugh slightly, jostling your wounds. You wince but wave off the concerned looks you get.

“After I’m no longer full of holes, Johnny-boy.” You take a sip of water afterwards, making Soap frown playfully.

“And to think I was gonna bring out the good shit fer ya. A shame. A damn shame.” You gently shake your head. It was a close call but Ghost got to you before you completely bled out. From what you’ve been told by Gaz, who yelled at you for an hour after you woke up from your four-day sleep, Ghost and Soap dragged you back to the helicopter. Both refused to leave your side. Captain Price ended up having to yell at the men and bribe them with a bit of alcohol to get them to even go to their own rooms. You made sure to apologize to Gaz, hugging him tightly after his blow-up. He thought he was going to lose a friend and family member so you couldn’t blame him.

Roach gave you the cold should for a while before appearing in your room with a cup of coffee. He made sure to smack the back of your head for your stupidity as well, though it was hardly rough. You grabbed the man before he could so much as bolt though when he saw you getting up to hug him. He hadn’t pushed you away though. And the captain? It felt like you were a kid again with how he pinned you with his stare. He made sure to tell you exactly how he felt, going from angry, to disappointed, to angry again. Another guy you couldn’t blame anything on. But you get to live another day at least. And you get to have that date with the two guys who were able to grab ahold of your heart after a long-time of heartache and loss.

#x male reader #x reader #my fics #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #cod x reader #cod x male reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x male reader #poly ghoap x reader #poly ghoap x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x male reader

92 notes · View notes

rodolfoparras · 5 months

Note

from the rdr2 ask

r is reader akssjsjs 😭 and rdr2 is like 1899 wild west cowboys set in usa (for context)

I'm thinking r gets up on his horse (who's actually a horse of one of the men he killed), he looks back once again, the white of his eyes standing out in the blood covering his face, and catches gaz's eyes. it's a silent goodbye, but not one on a good note. r gallops away from where the 141 has set camp, not knowing where to go next or even where he's going to get a meal or sleep tonight. honestly he fall asleep right now from how exhausted he is from the fight and the lack of sleep the last few days, but he keeps riding till he's certain no one has followed him, then finds a nice tree to pass out under.

meanwhile, back at the camp, gaz is at a loss of words. people he considered family, people that Are his family lied to him about you. worse than that, they left you out to die, after gaz had been the one to save you. when they first met you, you were apprehensive of tagging along w them, not wanting to be a burden, and gaz reassured you it's okay. and all he can think of now is how you must think that gaz's promises meant nothing. and he knows you'd be right to think so when the people he trusted the most have betrayed him like this. he asks them one simple thing, "why?" he didn't shout or look angry, but everyone knew better than to think he wasn't. he was fuming.

"kyle, you can't expect us to just up and trust some stranger. you know we have plans in motion, plans that we can't risk anyone else getting the wind of..." price spoke up.

"so you left him to die? if that is what we are now, I want no part of it," gaz said, and he could almost see soap's eyes bulge out at the insinuation of leaving. they might be wary of outsiders, but they still love gaz dearly. and gaz loves them too, and deep down he knows he could never really leave them.

"i wasn't going to wait for him to slit our throats in our sleep, yeah?" soap said in frustration and a second later price and ghost had to break gaz's grip on his throat, pushing them apart.

"why do you even care so much, eh? in love w the lad or what?" soap coughs out, and the look on gaz's face says everything. first the knowledge of gaz possibly caring about this stranger sinks in, then comes the dread of what they did to the man gaz cared about, their heads now hanging low. ghost tries to say smth, but it's too late and gaz is storming off, trying to find some place to be alone.

he settles down near the stream, he tells himself he has to accept the fact that he might never see you again. that is if you're alive. he's so worried about you, wondering how you manage the injuries all on your own, just one horse to keep you company, the blood soaked clothes on your back, and not much else. by god, he's so worried about you he could cry. and he knows even if he sees you again, you'll want nothing to do w him. he can't go after you. he can't bear to see the faces of his family, the people he asked you to trust, after they've all but stabbed you in the back. so he sits alone, and thinks and think and thinks.

he thinks about how you must've felt, when left alone in the middle of an already unfair gunfight. he can't imagine what that feeling of being completely alone in the middle of certain death must've felt like. but then he thinks about how you made it out anyways. always fighting death. he thinks of how he's seen you survive against all odds, cheating death twice in the time he's known you. he hopes that you live through the aftermath of the fight too. and he hopes to find you again some time. he hopes he can get the chance to apologize and maybe, just maybe you'll believe him. he wants to hold you, he wants to tell you all the things he wasn't brave enough to in the 10 weeks you travelled w them. he hopes he hasn't missed his chance.

-❕️

SUGAR THIS WAS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL READ IM BEING SO SERIOUS THIS IS SO WELL WRITTEN I LOVED THIS you can genuinely feel how sad gaz is for reader and how torn he feels being in the position that he is in it’s also very clear he absolutely loves reader please 🧎🏻‍♂️ BUT WHY ANOTHER CLIFF HANGER IM GOING TO SCREAM

#alec answers #❕anon

28 notes · View notes

thesimpsbasement · 2 years

Note

Request for Mod Betty! Can I ask for headcanons for dating Solomon, Simeon, Barbatos, and Diavolo please?

Sorry this took so long I've been busy and lowkey unmotivated

Fandom:Obey Me

Character: Solomon,Simeon,Barbatos,Diavolo

Author: Mod Betty

Warning/tags: fluff, reader is the MC,I haven't played obey me in forever so I apologize if these are slightly OOC,Slight hurt/comfort on Solomon's part, not proofreaded

Reader is gender neutral

Word count :1,431 words

___________________

-A cheeky motherfucker that's also secretly clingy

-When dating he's usually the one to playfully tease you,the way your face contorts into embarrassment is just too cute! But don't worry he's not the type to make you feel humiliated it's all light hearted

-Despite his mysterious and shady aura he's actually a huge dork

-Whenever he's experimenting with potions he likes to have you nearby, though he'll make sure that you're 100% safe and after each experiment that went wrong will immediately ask you if you're alright

-Also likes to take you on walks where he usually collects ingredients for potions and he'll talk about random things that come to mind

-If you're struggling on a certain task he'll offer to help which is often and he usually says "What are you going to do without me ____" in a jokingly way before continuing with his tutoring session

-When you haven't learnt how to use magic yet , he'll be extra protective of you and always be nearby( not in a weird way)

-He knows how cruel demons are and to them you look like a scrumptious lunch that's just begging to be devoured

-In public he doesn't mind affection,he'll hold your hand or plant a kiss on your cheek

-Devildom is usually cold so he offers you his jacket, it's not like he wears it properly anyway

-In private he lets his walls crumble slowly as he hold you closely

-Some nights he just holds you tightly as he stays wide awake,simply thinking about how events you'll have to depart from this world,a world without you? No he can't have that! He can't lose you! His grip on your body tightened which caused you to wake up

-He really appreciates when you comfort him,it makes him feel less lonely but most importantly it makes him feel loved

-His kisses are usually desperate and needy

-He needs to feel your presence, that you're still there,in his arms.He needs to know you'll never leave him and that you'll always be by his side.

-The sweetest man you've ever met

-He's always gentle with you and makes sure he doesn't overwhelm you I mean you're in a completely different realm where hungry demons live

-He often comes to the House of Lamentation to invite you to Purgatory Hall because he doesn't want you walking alone and possibly getting hurt( the brothers will have his head if he let their precious human get hurt)

-Offers you tea and sweet treats for you and is always glad to hear your thoughts on them

-Also dating Simeon means you also have a child to take care of

-Luke is a ball of sunshine and also has taken a liking to you

-You were like his other parental figure and would always come to you if Simeon was busy or if they got into a small fight

-Luke sometimes helps Simeon with his little tea party dates with you cuz Solomon is uh not a great help

-Likes cooking with you ,even if you're terrible at it he'll help out! I mean your cooking can't be as bad as Solomon's right? RIGHT!?

-Simeon also doesn't mind PDA and often indulges in small touches like interlocking hands or putting his hands on your face before drawing your face closer to his and eventually your lips connect.. " Alright lovebirds we should get going save your romance for when we get back" Solomon said which caused the 2 of you to quickly pull away from the kiss,Simeon's cheeks now being a slight shade of red " R-right"

-He's sorta your guardian angel and magically everything that goes wrong doesn't end terribly. Accidentally tripped? Don't worry he's there to catch you! Feeling overwhelmed when you can't understand assignments? His relaxing aura and soft gestures always manage to calm you down

-His kisses are soft but full of love,he enjoys the texture of your lips on his,doesn't matter if they're smooth or chapped.Everytime he kisses you on the lips,it's usually followed by a " I love you " or " you mean the world to me" and those aren't just sugar coated words, he's ready to sacrifice his status as an angel if it means being able to love you and feel your love for him.

-He's such a gentleman and always tends to your needs

-Don't worry about feeling like a burden about him doing everything! He's a butler and it's his duty to serve,besides he enjoys doing things for you

-Since he's the butler of the future Demon King ,he's usually busy so his way of showing affection is by acts of service so please let him serve you

-He doesn't usually invite you to the castle but Diavolo can sense when Barbatos starts missing you so he invites you to the castle and quietly leaves the room to leave the 2 of you some alone time

-He probably has a 6th sense when it comes to you,like if you're in need of comfort or are in danger or just simply miss him he'll be right at your doorstep

-When he makes treats for Diavolo, he purposely makes more than needed just to give them to you

-He's not much into PDA honestly,maybe hand holding here and there but he usually keeps affection in private

-He's more willing to show his emotions in the privacy of his room

-After a tiring day of butler duties he only thinks about going to bed with you next to him

-Cuddles are usually exclusively to nighttime unless Diavolo gives him a break day

-He likes to be the big spoon,your back pressed against his chest as he holds you protectively

-It's almost an instinct for him to protect you

-His kisses are always sweet that leaves you wanting more

-He always kisses your hand as a greeting and as a goodbye but everytime he kisses your lips,it assures you that you're loved by him and you'll always be safe with him.

-Oh he's just so happy and giddy when you started dating

-He's so used to people fearing him for his status and only being nice to him mainly because he's a future king so when you showed genuine kindness to him he bursted into a happy mess

-He always spoils you rotten and will not take no for an answer

-Please let him spoil you cuz he wants to show how much he loves you and how much he cares for you

-Material gifts aren't his only way he expresses his love for you

-He also loves praising you and getting praise from the Devildom's Prince is a tough thing to get

-If you did well on a test he'd say that he's really proud of you and always makes sure you feel good about yourself

-The whole Devildom already knows about the fact you two are dating so he doesn't see the point of hiding his affections in public but only if you're comfortable ,however he saves the more passionate gestures and words in private

-You two would be cuddling on his bed, his hand on your cheek as he looks in your eyes,oh how captivating they are " Do you know you look absolutely stunning" he asks,a smile on his face " Yeah I mean you mention it at least 3 times a day" you giggle,reaching for his face to mimic his gesture " And you are quite beautiful yourself" you said as you close the gap between the two of you.After your lips parted,Diavolo smiles " And those beautiful eyes of your,more beautiful than any rare gem" he kisses your temple "And such pretty lips and forms a smile that never fails to make me feel warm and fuzzy " he says,kissing the corners of your mouth, another compliment and another kiss

-When cuddling, he has his arms wrapped around your body,pulling you in a snug embrace but not too tightly to hurt you since he is award of his strength

-But he also loves being held! Likes it when you play with his hair and kiss his forehead, it's like you've casted a sleeping spell on his and he knows that everytime you kiss his forehead,he will have good dreams

-Kisses are abundant but full of love and passion.He pours his entire love for you in every kiss,each kiss being treated as the last one. He knows that the world can be cruel sometimes so he wants to have every possible happy moment with you.

#obey me #fanfiction #fanfic #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me side characters #x reader #x gender neutral reader

280 notes · View notes

dangans-ur-ronpas · 4 months

Text

Chapter 12

UH OH

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

trying to move away from writing toko like chunsoft and adding more to her character (she's traumatized she wants to be loved but she's going about it in the worst way) but in the end none of her actions are condoned. she's fucked up still sorry but written in a more sympathetic light i hope?

syo WILL be in this fic but i do my best to make her hand-wavy explanation ambiguous (fuck whatever canon says about 'textbook split personality' btw)

@moonlighttogami and @tokiwigiwi :)

Content warning tags: implication of stalking/blackmail, Toko-expected creepiness, use of violence, character death

< previous - from start - next >

He’s not sure how much time passes when the door opens again.

“Finally,” He huffs, not bothering to turn. “Took you long enough. Honestly, how long does it take-”

He halts, as the intruder steps into the room, and quickly clicks his handbook shut. These weren’t Makoto’s footsteps. And - he surreptitiously covers his nose - that wasn’t Makoto’s smell. But he knows whose it was.

“...Toko. What do you want.” He turns and glares at the girl who has intruded on his space. She fidgets where she stands, a thin shadow of dark purple. The smell of her has grown stronger over the past few weeks, and hangs around her like a miasma.

“M-master Byakuya…”

He feels a full-bodied shiver of disgust run over his skin. “Don’t call me that.”

She ignores him, and carries on. “A-about last night…”

Right. To be completely honest, he was hoping that he had scared her enough the night before to make her leave him alone entirely. But he’s not surprised either; if she had the nerve to blatantly try and look at his secret, it wasn’t surprising that she had the boldness to try and confront him like this.

“What about last night.” He says stiffly, and she jumps as if shocked.

“I-I know about your eyes!” She blurts at last. “A-and, I know Ch-Chihiro knows it too…I, I heard you t-talking about it i-in the b-bathhouse last night…”

He feels his lip curling, revolted. Of course she had eavesdropped; she was quickly proving to be one of the more annoying stalkers he’d ever had the displeasure of dealing with. The number of people who were aware of his condition was also rapidly increasing against his will. At this point he might as well do the same as Fujisaki and announce it out loud.

Fukawa continues in her irritating stutter. “A-and…y-your envelope…” He freezes immediately, suddenly latching on to her every word.

“What did it say?” He demands, and she flinches - shivers? - arms crossing over her torso.

“I-if I t-tell you, y-you won’t w-want anything to d-do with m-me anymore…” She mutters, seemingly to herself, and he feels another wave of revulsion roll over him.

“Out with it. I already want nothing to do with you, but if you don’t speak up now-”

What will he do? He tries to come up with a threat that can hold actual weight, but they all sound pathetic, even to himself. If only Makoto were here, he could at least get him to chase her away…how long does it take to talk to three people, anyways?

Ironically, it’s Fukawa who saves him from having to think of something. “I-I know you’re r-really mad at m-me for r-reading your secret last night,” She continues, and she’s swaying slightly, as if drunk. “U-um, I-I promise n-not to t-tell anyone! About your eyes, o-or your envelope…a-and, I’ll t-tell you mine, t-too.”

“I’m not interested.” He says flatly. “Tell me what was written in my envelope. Now.”

She shakes her head instead. “I-I know th-there’s no way for you t-to have r-read yours yet, right? S-so only I know!” The light catches on her spectacles, and it gives the illusion of two, illuminated orbs on her face. “W-which makes me m-more special than M-Makoto, or Chihiro, right?”

She sounds deranged. Her voice is pitched with desperation, and she’s breathing heavily. She takes a step closer. “I-I know all your s-secrets, and once y-you know mine…s-so you can r-rely on me, m-more than Makoto, o-or Chihiro?” Another step, and the floorboard creaks. “I-I’ll do better than th-them! And, and I can accept you f-for all your secrets, s-so, you don’t n-need them, I promise!”

“Stay back.” He snaps, shifting backwards. The revulsion was curdling, mixing with fear, and crawling down his back like something physical, like the vile, unwanted sensation of fingernails, tickling over his skin. He hates this irrational panic - she was just a girl, and a pathetic one at that - but here he was, shying away anyways, unable to discern her next move, her intentions. “I’m warning you-”

She lurches forward, and he takes an inadvertent step back. His back meets the bookshelf; he was trapped. “S-so don’t get scared,” She says, though these words really only have the opposite effect on him. “D-do you remember the news, a few y-years back? A-about Genocider S-Syo?”

Genocider Syo? The name sounds familiar, but it takes him a moment to place where he’s heard it before. It was a few years before he enrolled at Hope’s Peak, while in transit to some social gathering or another; Pennyworth had left the car radio tuned to the local news.

“The serial killer?” He asks aloud, as he subtly searches the shelves behind him, trying to find something to use as a weapon. The tip of his index finger catches on the spine of a large, plastic-bound copy of some textbook or another, and he leverages it slowly out of the shelf, feeling sweat beginning to slicken its cover.

She nods eagerly, her braids bouncing. “I-I knew you’d kn-know about it,” She sounds relieved, somehow, voice breathless. “Y-you know, th-the first place Syo turned up was the town w-where I was b-born…i-it was my f-first crush that was the f-first victim, y’know?”

It clicks together quickly for him. The radio announcer had described bloody and ugly scenes of murder, the displayed corpses of young men and boys, all attributed to a mysterious killer with a penchant for stabbing their victims. And now standing before him was a clearly-deranged, unwell girl, well-known for her romance novels, and apparently obsessed with him.

“I-it’s okay!” She says hurriedly, as he presses himself closer to the shelf. “Sh-she only c-comes out when I-I’m really t-tired, o-or if I see b-blood…b-but, I c-can control her! I am controlling her, I promise!” She steps forward again, and this close, he can see the sickly flush on her face, the shine of sweat - tears? - down her cheeks. “I’ve b-been working s-so hard, s-so she won’t h-hurt anyone again…so it’s o-okay! I c-can be good! See?” She hiccups slightly, she must be crying. He can’t imagine why. “S-so now we can be equal, r-right?!”

She staggers towards him again, and he reacts before he can even think twice about it, yanking the book from its shelf and swinging blindly. The edge catches her across the face, whipping it sharply to the side with a sickly crack and a squeal - there’s a crest of blood, splattering up the length of the book, he can feel a few warm drops splash his hand, the skin crawling where it landed - and she crashes against the shelves with a shriek, stumbling.

“Why?!” She wails, hands shooting to her face. She sounds genuinely distraught, and she shakes as she scrubs at her nose with her palms. “I-I told you m-my biggest secret, a-and I kn-know yours…w-why won’t you tr-trust me?!”

“Trust you?!” He laughs, mirthless and a little frenzied, pitched wildly with his thudding heart. “You repulse me.” He steps forward now, book still clutched in his shaking hand. “Why would I ever trust a murderer in a killing game?”

She flinches as if his words were more physical blows, stumbling away from him and knocking against the shelf. A few books rain down, thudding open on the floor. “I-It’s not me,” She babbles, clutching at her head. “S-Syo - she’s j-just s-someone else, she’s in m-me, b-but I can c-control her, I p-promise - sh-she’s not me, she’s not me, she’s not!”

It sounds vaguely like some dramatized description of a split personality, though Byakuya had never heard of any such disorder that matched Fukawa’s apparently extreme case. Whatever the girl had going on would probably warrant its own DSM volume, but he wasn’t particularly interested in that. “I don’t care if she’s a ghost that’s possessing you or a secret twin taking your place. I want nothing to do with either of you.”

“B-but-”

“Get out.” He snarls, chest heaving. “If I hear anything - anything - on my condition, I will make you wish you were dead.” She doesn’t move, and he feels his teeth clench enough to creak. “I said, OUT.”

She darts, stumbling and stepping through one of the piles of boxes on the floor, completely breaking through the lid. Whatever was inside it stays looped around her ankle as she kicks the lid off, and clicks against the floor as she sprints away, her sobs fading as she goes.

___

For safety, he blocks off the door to the library with the chair, jamming it beneath the handles.

Then, he waits for Makoto, pacing, agitated. Really, how long could it take to accompany one person to talk to three people? His clock in his handbook stated that hardly an hour had passed since Makoto first left, and ten minutes since he sent Fukawa away. Surely, he had to be coming back eventually?

Not that there was anything keeping Byakuya in the library, other than his own uncertainty regarding his safety. Considering that he knew Fukawa’s alternate identity, and her apparent infatuation with him, it would be foolish to make the trek back to his room alone.

He stops pacing, frustration and restlessness boiling over. And returns to the files, shuffling through them, handbook held aloft to read the names printed on the edge of each folder, ignoring the ones that clatter to the ground after he shoves them haphazardly back. Finally, he comes across the one he's looking for, and slides it out of the shelf.

The front of it is stamped with the title in silver: ‘The Murder Cases of Genocider Syo: Top Secret’. He flips it open.

The text is interspersed with images of the victims before and after their unfortunate encounters with Fukawa. He can’t make much out about them, other than the fact that all the murder scenes seemed similar enough; photos of pale bodies, stretched out as if crucified, splattered with blood. Their faces, which must have been twisted with agony, are merely dark smudges.

“...As with the other cases, at the scene of the crime the word ‘BLOODLUST’ was written with the victim’s blood,” Alter Ego reads aloud. “The scissors used in the murder were apparently custom-made, with every pair left at each murder scene seeming to be of the same material and construction…”

How vile. He flips through the pages (one of which is annoyingly wrinkled, and furthermore, smudged with dirt), reading through the victim's descriptions. There was a sort of morbid curiosity that drew him to read further, even as his stomach turned with the knowledge that he could end up like one of these men; pinned like a butterfly for the killer to admire and laud over.

He snaps the file shut at last, feeling nauseous, and sinks down with his back against the shelf, suddenly exhausted - the adrenaline from Fukawa’s confrontation is gone, leaving behind a bone-deep fatigue. Sluggishly, he categorizes what he knows:

One: Fukawa was also Genocider Syo, a notorious serial killer who targeted young men.

Two: Fukawa both knew he was blind, and the contents of his envelope. He reaches into his pocket and feels for it, the paper now crinkled and warped. He still can’t bring himself to try and use Alter Ego to read its contents, but so long as Fukawa knew…there was little he could do about it.

That brought him to three: Fukawa was apparently obsessed with him. That was clear from the start, but he underestimated how dangerous her infatuation was. What she wanted from him was, apparently, some kind of romanticized relationship, if her mutterings about mutually sharing secrets and calling him ‘master’ was anything to go by, but nothing that could possibly be built on equal footing. Not if she was trying to leverage the envelope’s contents and his blindness against him.

He pauses at that. Did Fukawa know he was capable of using Alter Ego through his handbook to read? If she did, then there was no point in her trying to hold it over him. But then that meant she might try to manipulate him in other ways, the most simplest being blackmail. For that, he’d need to silence her…

And to do that, I would need to kill.

He drums his fingers against the hardwood floor. It’d be hard, but he could do it. She was already fixated on him, it should be easy enough to lure her somewhere and take care of her, either with a blunt-force weapon or strangulation - stabbing was too messy with the blood splatter - but the real difficulty then was how to conceal his tracks.

He thinks for a moment of Maizono, and how she had swapped rooms with Makoto solely for this intention. He thought her foolish then, but in hindsight, it really was an impressive display of quick thinking…though, it wasn’t one that he could copy.

What if he did it in a shared space? In one of the empty classrooms? People hardly went into these rooms, and it’d be harder to pin down the culprit. But he’d have to be fast about it, and careful; anyone who sees him or Fukawa entering that space, or leaving it, could easily identify him as the suspect. It’d have to happen at night.

But, she’s also smarter than she looks… He rubs at his temples now, frowning. She might see the similarities between this and Maizono’s attempt, and realize it’s a trap. I can’t risk that. It’d be easier if I could easily pin it on someone, but the amount of people who might be stupid or willing enough to let themselves be used…

The list was very short. Makoto, who was already a non-option. Yamada, who was too closely allied with Celeste to be trusted. Hagakure, who was too paranoid to be easily led into anything anyways...

And Chihiro.

He’s suddenly struck with the realization that if he succeeds, the others die. It would not be just one person’s blood on his hands, it would be multiple, including those he chooses not to directly involve. He hesitates, for an instant - and then lowers his hands slowly, a sense of defeat settling over him.

He’s already failed before he even started. This game could only have one winner, and if he could not fully commit himself to that role and accept the consequences of it, then he was never a real competitor to begin with. Circles within circles. He was back to the start.

Frustration isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with, but it’s been a long time since he’s felt so overwhelmed with it, as he tilts his head back, knocking it against the shelf as he stares blankly at the brown fog of the ceiling. And then slams a fist against the floor, hissing venomous, ugly curses under his breath. If only he had his eyes, again - he wouldn’t need to be so concerned with such things, wouldn’t need to waver - and yet.

Where the hell is Makoto? He thinks numbly, exhausted with it all. He was sick of being left with nothing but his nerves, and how long did it take to talk to just three people anyways?

Thump, thump, thump.

A rhythmic banging snaps him out of his thoughts. For a moment, he thinks it’s coming from the door, and clumsily pushes himself up, while fumbling for something, anything, to use as a weapon - his hands find the hard, stiff cover of a case file, still on the floor - and stares down the door, waiting for someone to break through it-

But nothing. The chair that’s stuck under the doorknob hasn’t even budged, from what he can tell. The banging continues, and he realizes it sounds more like hammering than knocking. It wasn’t even against the library door.

Construction? Hagakure did mention hearing construction sounds earlier. Was Monokuma building something again?

The sound ends, replaced by footsteps approaching his door. He tenses, taking a step back, but a moment later, the footsteps patter down the hall and away, fading out of earshot.

He stays where he is for a long moment, caught between terror and curiosity. Curiosity wins out, and he steps slowly to the door, hesitating once more with one hand on the chair.

But before he can even do anything, the air is pierced by a blood-curdling scream, and he throws the chair away, yanking the door open-

Only to be met with the sight of Chihiro Fujisaki’s corpse.

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff chapters #thpff #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #hi....sorry for the delay...#in my defense i was waffling a while about posting this bc once i do it means im locked into my trial 2 case and scene etc #and im still writing the trial 2 scene WHOOPS....#also was feeling very bleh this past week. whatever im fine now #byakuya full on plotting a murder before realizing. wait a minute. i care about people now.#and then having a mild crisis about it. prince zuko style except instead of getting a fever he starts swearing in french #hitting a girl? not cool byakuya #im so sorry chihiro i love you tho #the scene were toko gets makoto to go with her to talk to byakuya doesnt happen here #and also toko has been watching byakuya hang out exclusively with makoto #and hearing the rumors that they were having a scandalous drauma-fraught romance #so she ended figuring that the best thing she could do was corner him herself. hence the gathering of blackmail material etc etc #not necessarily the most romantic thing but she sees it as creating a level playing field where he's forced to acknowledge her at all

14 notes · View notes

stardustdiiving · 9 months

Note

I would read your zhongxiao codependent yuri Like, I do generally picture them as a vaguely father/son dynamic BUT THAT IS NOT CANON. It's just as much fun to view them through a romantic interpretation! Idk why people can't view the same characters in different kinds of relationships without being weird about it.

Anyway I love your vision and would love to hear more about it lakdjs

THANK U SO MUCH Im not sure if I’m gonna write zx in the future since I’ve tended to be shy about posting my stuff relating to them for over a yr now, but I did post this fic with them last year while trying to get a hold on how to write them (mind the tags it’s pure angst omg). I was too shy to tag it as ship since it didn’t feel shippy enough, which is kind of funny to me in hindsight bc I reread it and am like. Man I think only a zx shipper would write this NUFNVJVJV

Post got kind of lot Im gonna go on a tangent about them under the cut

Honestly my theory for why ppl r very set on the father/son interpretation is everyone’s immediate thought on to how to make the power imbalance between them seem less uncomfortable is to apply a parental interpretation to it. Which is fine ofc, I get it, but the way ppl push it as canon a lot kind of grates on me a little bc they’re usually incredibly passive aggressive and pushy even if u clearly designate ur post as ship OTL

Also not really a fan of the characterizations either since ppl tend to treat Xiao like a moody teenager Zhongli has to reel in (this is hilariously reminiscent of the post I made about how ppl handle scaramouche and nahida a bit ago haha). And idk I just feel kind of polarized about the headcanon overall bc I associate it with people being really uncomfortable and frustrating about zx

I just like how there’s sort of an imbalance to them, some zxs like them being more fluffy and functional but I sort of like it where it’s not like, entirely dysfunctional but I’m prioritizing a specific kind of character study over romance. This tends to be how a lot of my ships go ngl I just sometimes enjoy the intensity/intimacy of romantic feelings thrown into the mix if it makes it interesting but I’m not often interested in a lot of my ships following more standard romance plots(?) I guess? Unless it’s specific ones. Which sounds clinical when I put it like that but this is just bc I am very aromantic NHFBVJVJ

When I say codependency in zhongxiao honestly it’s sort of a theoretical(?) codependency—not sure how to word it? I think Xiao would be really fucked up if he didn’t have Zhongli in his life suddenly but I don’t think his relationship with getting attached to people invokes what people would majorly think of when they think of codependency in a ship I suppose. It’s moreso I just feel Xiao could be at his worst with dehumanizing himself in comparison to other people with Zhongli, because said mental state is driven by how he feels about debt, service, and duty which are very closely tied with devotion and how he would feel about someone he considers his god and leader, as well as someone who saved him

It’s fun this is paired with Zhongli who generally knows how to work with Xiao kind of understands the self destructive depth Xiao’s loyalty/devotion comes with. Also fun they have been around each other for a very long time and Xiao as one of the adepti is familiar with the past I think Zhongli appreciates having around. They work but it’s also a case where Zhongli is in such a position of power over Xiao its kind of very delicate situation that’s hard for both of them to navigate. Which is fun to explore. I esp love contrasting it with other Xiao pairings (actually i think i still have that xiaoven fic up on my ao3 where I tried to convey a specific interpretation of them in a similar exploration vein too)

I totally get why people wouldn’t like it (I feel a lot of my opinions on xiao ships just clash with a lot of fandom consensus so bad all the time And it’s just bc I’m like this I’m not even trying to be contrarian or anything. HELDINCJD) but I just tend to handle shipping in a specific way. It’s not I don’t enjoy fluffy or lighthearted zl and xiao stuff I actually enjoy it a lot I just like there being layers. This makes it feel more impactful when I think about how Zhongli looks out for Xiao in canon or how Xiao gets like textually flustered talking to him (lantern rite 2023 was so tailored to my tastes it’s not even funny)

#the yuri part is more of an inside joke w my friends bc this is how we all talk but I did once compare zx to my sapphic awakening pairing #which is rose & Pearl from steven universe and it is truly my favorite thing to pitch to people verbally bc It kind of sounds #incomprehensible but also I’m totally onto something….no one understands….#Pearl and xiao r literally both spear wielding birds who’s arc revolves around being ok w being a person who lives for themselves ://#and they r eternally grateful to their war general leader . no one gets it. it torments me personally bc #I loved Pearl SU when I was 11 and now I enjoy xiao a lot and it’s like…we’ll these r very different characters but also I think I have not #changes. JUDJDKXJD #it’s 3am I woke up in a haze to answer this…I need to go to bed smh #fern.txt #zhongxiao #Edit: I woke up and finished writing this post and I a #am so tired #asks

21 notes · View notes

goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 7 months

Note

that was so- omg jrnsbhsbsh inread the comsume fic and iirhej and please I can't express how much i LOVED you writing darkling as that closed off and giving the akina pov but LET ME IN on his thoughts during it. And thank you so much.

re: this fic!

shdhff thank you!! this ask took me ages because I decided, not at all in procrastination, to go over the entire fic and write out what I think the Darkling’s going through at any given point.

for a refresher, the basic premise of the fic is that Alina isn’t dragged away to the underground tunnels when the chapel collapses at the end of S&S. she and Aleksander are both buried under the rubble, so she’s basically his prisoner once they’re both dug out and healed up. and he offers her an end to their hostilities and to spare her friends if she completely surrenders and also marries him.

I have this tagged as “S&S bad ending” and it’s really what it says on the tin! everyone’s miserable! so yeah, let’s dive in on Darkling POV!

I think his initial thought process is that he has her in his grasp and he wants to keep it that way.

No matter what the people at her bedside had said about his health, he looks perfectly fine now. A little haggard perhaps, the lines of his face sharper, more hungry. But he is otherwise unscathed. Meanwhile she still feels like... well she feels like she's had a building collapse on her. She wonders if his healers have been careful that she doesn't recover too quickly after all.

fwiw I don’t think he told his healers to be slower with Alina, her injuries were just very extensive, as per canon. and he was obviously getting priority as their commander. he just seems to not suffer much ill effect at all in R&R so I kept that.

He tilts his head, a glint in his eye that she doesn't quite like. "Would you like me to leave?"

The Corporalki behind him shift awkwardly from foot to foot. She wonders what they think of this.

"Would you actually leave?"

"No."

"Well then it doesn't matter much, does it? But for the record, no I don't particularly enjoy being scrutinized."

“ Have you attempted to summon?" he asks her.

She shakes her head.

here he’s noticed that he has gained some of her power and he’s wondering if it goes both ways. also he’s just very much enjoying being the one in total control here. especially when alina’s actions/things not going his way led him down a more volatile emotionally uncontrolled path. so he feels much more secure now, he’s kind of like “yes, this is the correct way of things.” the natural and correct power dynamic between them has been restored.

"I don't think you fully appreciate that I saved your life, Alina."

"Do you expect gratitude?"

"No, not from you." He takes a chair by her bedside, and she wonders if he is at all weak too.

She hopes so. “Then fine, what do you want?"

"You made a promise to me, Alina," the Darkling says, expression unreadable.

She frowns. "And then I tried to kill you."

He shrugs. "I've come to expect that from you. I have kept my word, however. I let your friends go."

He was unconscious when they were escaping through the tunnels. Somehow, Alina doubts he was in a position to give chase. But she holds her tongue.

so I basically say this from her POV already but he’s absolutely leaning into “oh I’m taking the high road here, I acted in good faith and let your friends go” when he really didn’t have a choice at the time! he didn’t let them go, they escaped him. and he wasn’t able to pursue. but he’s absolutely going to press the advantage and act like she owes him for it.

The Darkling visits her again, often, and seemingly aimlessly.

he’s kind of pining shfhf he wants to see her! he also keeps expecting her to run away somehow like she did after the fete. he doesn’t quite believe that she’s just… there. and can’t go anywhere.

"Do you ever regret running away?" he asks her once, suddenly. "For causing so much devastation?"

"I regret that you're cruel. That you're vicious and power hungry."

"All that I do is for Ravka," he says simply.

he does genuinely thinks that she betrayed him in the first book. his pride and feelings are a little hurt! like she wasn’t infatuated enough to stay? why not?? why does she keep picking that rando tracker???

so he asks because frankly he wants her to regret it! he wants her to have regrets

But still, he is her only company. And she begins to anticipate and dread his visits in equal measure.

She always asks him for news. She cannot tell if any of what he tells her is accurate. But she is completely in his clutches. What would be the point of lying?

he does very much enjoy being her only connection to the outside world

"Surrender. Be my Tsaritsa."

She stares at him dumbfounded. If merzost had stolen the color from her hair, perhaps it had entirely robbed the Darkling of sense.

"You're insane."

I think wanting an actual marriage is in part for propaganda! but also for want of a more direct sense of possession? like she is his captive for as long as she is in his grasp. if she escapes well she escaped. but if she marries him, even if she runs or acts against him, she would still be his wife. also he’s a fan of big gestures. getting her to outright say she surrenders, even if he thinks she doesn’t intend to follow through, is important strategically (tanking enemy morale etc) but also he simply wants to relish the power trip.

he just wants her to be His somehow and it’s very frustrating to him! like not to be a basic literature nerd but this Jane Eyre quote really exemplifies Darklina from Aleksander’s perspective to me:

“"Never," said he, as he ground his teeth, "never was anything at once so frail and so indomitable. A mere reed she feels in my hand!" (And he shook me with the force of his hold.) "I could bend her with my finger and thumb: and what good would it do if I bent, if I uptore, if I crushed her? Consider that eye: consider the resolute, wild, free thing looking out of it, defying me, with more than courage — with a stern triumph. Whatever I do with its cage, I cannot get at it — the savage, beautiful creature! If I tear, if I rend the slight prison, my outrage will only let the captive loose. Conqueror I might be of the house; but the inmate would escape to heaven before I could call myself possessor of its clay dwelling-place. And it is you, spirit — with will and energy, and virtue and purity — that I want: not alone your brittle frame. Of yourself you could come with soft flight and nestle against my heart, if you would: seized against your will, you will elude the grasp like an essence — you will vanish ere I inhale your fragrance."”

he has the means and even the willingness to crush her, make her capitulate fully, but it wouldn’t get him what he wants.

he’s been waiting for a sun summoner for an untold amount of time and has been building all his goals and desires around it. he keeps demanding her submission but that won’t get him her respect. he wants her to idolize him and to agree with everything he does. in her he wants a companion in immortality and a starry eyed acolyte. like he spent all this time thinking the sun summoner was the key to all of his life’s woes, and then Alina shows up and WRECKS his shit. he feels ripped off!! he wants his money back!! but also desperately desperately wants her to magically have always been the person he wanted her to be.

The Darkling is sitting at the head of the table. He does not look up at her approach, but he dismisses her guards with a wave.

"Do you have a response for me?" the Darkling says evenly, setting aside a stack of papers.

Alina looks at the map on the walls, and the various papers strewn about, trying to decipher anything about Ravka's current situation.

She shakes her head. "I was just bored."

At this he does finally look up, raising an eyebrow.

"You wanted company?"

he does fully expect her to sweep in to accept him (or loudly proclaim her rejection, until she takes some time to think about it and “sees reason”) it fully catches him off guard that she might just want to talk like… recreationally.

"There's nothing else to do here."

"I'm sorry, I've been busy."

"You're sorry," she says flatly. Because it is an absurd thought: the Darkling sorry for anything.

He shrugs. It's an oddly human gesture from him.

He looks weary.

eye think he means the apology. he’s genuinely busy! can’t take over a country overnight! and shdhdgdd he can afford to ignore his captive gf/mortal enemy. so he’s like realizing that he has been rather neglectful and is *mildly* chagrined about it. like… whoops

"What's your name?" she asks suddenly. "Do you have one?"

her being like “lol do you even have a name at all” paired with coming of her own volition to just hang out mildly disarms him. hence him volunteering the bit about baghra.

"Why are you so protective of it?"

"Old habit, I suppose." For a moment she thinks he isn't going to say more, and then he sighs.

"Baghra instilled it in me."

"Did vou ever look for her?"

He doesn't reply, only looks at her. Suspicion plain on his face.

"She was evacuated before the attack. If the Kingfisher made it out unscathed, she should be fine."

"It isn't any concern of mine," he says, voice going cool again.

he immediately regrets it though lmao and is like “actually no I do not care about what happened to her at all!! (lying)”

anyway I don’t get into it, but it’s probably the first time in a long time where he has no idea where Baghra is, on top of them having that very dramatic break (her smuggling Alina out, him blinding her rip rip) that I think he’s very uncertain and scared about it but also obvs wouldn’t tell Alina about it.

anyway you asked about the Darkling’s thoughts specifically, but worth mentioning that Alina asking about whether he ever looked for Baghra is her vaguely trying to appeal to/find some humanity in him. like “okay, you at least have enough in common with the regular person in that you can be worried about a loved one yes?” and he’s like “no 💖”

"Your Lantsov prince has been sighted. I knew he couldn't remain underground forever."

She keeps her expression carefully neutral, waiting for him to continue, and he does.

"He made a mistake, he'll make others, eventually he'll be captured. He is a threat, Alina, our bargain does not extend to him. I will not spare a Lantsov.”

he’s been sitting on this news for awhile actually shfhff but he brings it up here to twist the knife/further distance them.

The Darkling takes her back to her chambers— his former chambers— in the Little Palace to collect her things under supervision.

"Why did you stay in my quarters?" He asks her.

"It is where the Commander of the Second Army sleeps."

He seems to find that amusing. "Did you ever close your eyes and think of me?"

"No."

"No, I suppose you didn't have to. I was always there with you."

I think this is pretty obvious. he’s calling her out on being into him! I always thought it was absolutely deranged of her to choose to sleep in his bed!! that being said, his typical modus operandi *is* to blow things out of proportion— everything is evidence that he is right and she is wrong, and they’re meant to be like eternal soulmates— and this is no exception.

which is what leads into him making a more romantic overture for the first time since the chapel scene.

I think he hasn’t until that point, in part because he has also been mad at her lol. in canon he seems pretty chill about it the next time she visits him through the tether, but a lot of time has passed. in this he needs some time to get over his hurt feelings/wounded pride lmfao. but also! a major factor is that in the previous scene she revealed that she wants his company! and so he’s immediately like “what kind of company 👀👀”

She dreams of him. Gray eyes watching her in the darkness. She reaches for his hand, presses it to her face. That rush isn't there.

"You're right," he murmurs. "It isn't real this way. In shadows and dreams."

"Please don't go," she whispers. But he leaves anyway.

he’s absolutely punishing her for rejecting him. which is leverage he also only just discovered he has at all in the scene before last. it’s why he doesn’t visit her through the tether while he’s away for weeks. he’s reminding her that she is painfully lonely without him.

Ivan is carefully guiding her by the arm, and he's made it abundantly clear that he isn't afraid to use his power if she steps out of line, so she keeps her mouth shut, though she can feel the uneasy stares at her amplifiers. The silence stretches on, while she stands there at the door.

"Leave us," he says quietly. And everyone in the room file out in unison.

"What was that?" she asks once they're alone, aside from the requisite guards. She has grown accustomed to it at this point.

"There are rumors that you are dead. It's better to dispel them."

"And to make it clear that I'm at your beck and call?"

Alina’s guessed his motivation correctly here. he’s making a show of having a pet sun summoner.

She blinks. "You crossed the Shadow Fold?"

"The Shadow Fold no longer poses a threat to me," he says simply. "You have David to thank for that."

"What do you mean?"

He rises from his seat, moving to stand before her. “I mean that you can no longer count on West Ravka to ally with Nikolai Lantsov when he resurfaces. And no one else will want to entertain that same mistake."

this is just the same lumiya beat from R&R But Worse bc he used it to march on West Ravka, which I think he also does or at least threatens to in canon? he’s obvs making an example of them so no one dares to try to offer Nikolai any aid but also is making a statement for Ravka’s neighbors without actually acting against them, which would incite a war. essentially similar motivations to expanding the fold on Novokribirsk

He gazes down at her still captive face, cheeks streaked with fresh tears. "You've missed me," he says. And it isn't a question.

“You're a monster," she whispers, even as she reaches for him.

"Does saying that make you feel better?" he asks, lifting her up onto the table, heedless of its contents.

he knows very well that she’s vulnerable because she’s been lonely and because he just upset her with news of fresh war crimes lol so he’s like “I can offer you comfort from the problems that I caused :)”

"You were meant for me, Alina," he murmurs in her ear, a jagged edge to his voice that sounds curiously like desperation. "Accept it."

see: above Jane Eyre quote again. I think the more physical intimacy they have the more he’s like shdhf privately spiraling that she does not love him and is, in his view, too obstinate to simply see things his way and emotionally capitulate.

not really going over their negotiations when she does finally agree to marry him bc I think his responses are fairly self explanatory.

he is a emotionally shriveled husk of person feeling feelings for the first time in decades (centuries?) and it’s eating him alive!

I also faded to black the name reveal conversation because I see it going pretty close to canon! and also I’m fading to black the sex scenes in this and I like the idea of skipping over that conversation as something just as intimate?

He can afford to be indulgent now, apparently, because he thinks he's won. She stifles the impulse to make a scene, to wipe that smug look from his face. But she isn't sure he wouldn't enjoy the chance to have her seized by guards, to make a public display of just how much power he has in this situation. So she walks away, back straight.

yeah, he’s power tripping so hard 😭

"You must know that I have nearly a dozen oprichniki outside the door, in the event that my dearest wife attempts to kill me again... Or something precisely like this occurring. Should I call them?"

"You don't need to do that," Alina says hoarsely.

His arms are wrapped tightly around her waist. He leans his chin on her shoulder comfortably.

"Please don't kill him," Alina says, trying not to stumble over her own words. "He'll leave. He isn't even a threat, the Tsar is still alive."

"I don't think he will," the Darkling says, stroking her hair. "I've already told you how far my mercy extends, Alina. And it is not to him."

"Then don't consider it mercy," she says.

"Oh?" He kisses her neck.

(removed an interjection from Nikolai in the excerpt for the sake of brevity)

this is mostly in keeping with his canon tendency to always be really over the top suggestive (“did you tell him what I showed you in the dark” “I’ll be sure you hear it when I make her scream” etc) this scene is also very much about him constantly trying to telegraph power and control though. and him being so casual with Alina is part of that

The Darkling watches them both, looking thoughtful. A long moment passes. He draws up an armchair for himself, sits casually, contemplating. He must enjoy drawing this out too, the way the silence in the room is taught with anticipation and dread. How the both of them are urgently waiting on his word.

"Convince me to spare his life," he says finally, again with that indulgent air from the wedding party. But this time it seems a bit put on. "Would you beg for this one too?"

referencing the bit in S&B when he made her beg for Mal’s life.

this entire scene I think he’s feeling a mix of weary, amused, and kind of pissed because the rescue attempt came so close to being successful. the bit about his indulgent air being put on is just him not feeling as in control as he’s pretending to be? his bluff here is to act like he’s already won, even though he’s not feeling as secure as all that, and it basically does work.

he’s really annoyed at the prospect of like coming back and she could have already been gone? like what happened after the fete! and it puts him in a rather cruel mood.

like so lol:

He twists his hands in her hair and pulls, baring the pale column of her neck and its cage of antlers.

"Don't-" Nikolai begins but she cuts him off.

"Nikolai, please," she snaps.

"Oh please," the Darkling echoes with amusement.

the one thing I will ever give show!Darkling is him mocking Alina in the tent on their first meeting. so that one bit does live in my mind rent free in terms of book!Darkling characterization

"Consider this my wedding gift. If you care for me at all you'll spare him."

"If I don't?" he says quietly, bowing his head to meet her gaze. Something cruel glinting in his eyes.

lololololol stunning lack of self awareness/utter bald faced lie. he hates Feelings so much that he would probably rather set himself on fire than admit he has any feelings. (“the problem with wanting is that it makes us weak,” etc etc)

"But you do. You've never turned away from me.

I'm yours, and you want me. Please," she whispers, tilting her head up, straining to reach him. To brush her lips against his in promise.

"Send him away, let him go. And you can return to your marriage bed."

"So fervent of a sudden," he murmurs, face like stone.

he’s genuinely pissed that she’s taking stuff he’s said and parroting it back to him just to get her way. obvs the never turning away line is something he said in the chapel scene. and he’s like no that’s not allowed! you have to mean it!

They both stiffen when the Darkling strides over to pat his head like a dog, letting his shadow bonds fall away. "You're dismissed, unless," and this last is said with the most mocking of smiles

"You would like to entertain us further? Are you intent on joining our wedding night?”

Darknikolina baybey

okay so I don’t think he meant this seriously, he’s just being a dick, and there is no chance Nikolai would’ve been like “lol sure why not” under these circumstances. but IF HE DID, idk maybe just to call his bluff, I think Aleksander would have been more than happy to let him join sgdhf

also a much, much earlier version of this fic, before there were multiple chapters at all, basically existed to lead up to a wedding night threesome scene. that one was more like “I’ll let you live if you entertain my wife :)” which is a slightly different vibe

Well into the night, he is the one to finally twist away from her embrace. "Were you planning to leave with him? Was I meant to chase you down through the Ravkan countryside again?"

She thinks of the scandal, how much it would infuriate him to have her flee the very night of the wedding. She almost wishes she'd gone, that she still had the will to. "Perhaps," she says finally.

"Were you?"

"No, I told him I was staying."

shdhfg very transparently like “were you going to leave me!!!”

He stares at her for a long time, face entirely unreadable, but she can feel the tension in the lines of his body, in the way he's carefully holding himself away from her. "You wouldn't have gotten off the palace grounds."

"Are you so sure?"

yeah so he refuses to believe her saying she decided to stay. but he’s wounded about it so he’s like “it doesn’t matter! you wouldn’t have been able to leave anyway!!!”

The Darkling turns to her again in frustration. “This one's life is forfeit," he grits out, "the moment you step out of line.

"But I will not," Alina replies, with far more confidence than she feels.

"I doubt it."

"Aleksander," she pleads, reaching for him.

And he visibly stiffens. "I did not give you my name to throw it around whenever it suits you." But he lets her kiss him, with Nikolai's gaze heavy on the both of them.

so he’s literally only keeping Nikolai alive because the other hostages are gone and he can’t hold them over Alina’s head. pretty telling that he thinks he needs that much to keep her in check. and like… he’s not wrong I guess!

meanwhile she tries to appeal to his humanity a bit and he recoils from that, both the implication that there is humanity to appeal to lol and that she’s flaunting something intimate, told to her in confidence— basically the closest to willing vulnerability he’ll get. and even so it almost works, he softens a little, involuntarily basically. (mind, he has also privately been going INSANE for the entire night and morning over her saying that she had decided to stay anyway, like is it true? did she just say it to fuck with him? why???) which is why his response is to get a little vicious like “okay the bargain’s off I’m killing everyone the moment I get my hands on them, and don’t worry they’ll come to me!!!”

but yeah mostly he’s just going insane. like she ruined his fucking life by telling him that!! because it’s also that he knows he hasn’t been treating her well lmao or doing anything to really win her over. in his white knuckle refusal to show her any sort of emotional weakness, he’s fostered a fairly cold and grim dynamic between them. meanwhile he’s had his ongoing internal tantrum about her not liking him sjfjfhffgs like he just keeps lashing out and making things worse and having way less game because he’s increasingly more invested and that makes him more tantrumy and evil.

And as much as he talks of killing Nikolai, the Darkling enjoys the spectacle of having the prince at his beck and call. It's obvious.

The two of them, they might as well be exotic birds, he keeps in pretty cages. Keeping them dressed in gold and jewels, bringing them out to impress and intimidate ally and enemy alike.

Darknikolina :)

also glossing over stuff that doesn’t involve Aleksander bc we’re focused on his POV only rn

Alina thinks she may cry, but she only steps away, a bland smile plastered to her face. The Darkling's sharp gaze is following her every movement as she steps up to him. "I don't feel well."

He nods and his oprichniki usher her back inside.

She only wonders afterwards whether he knew. Whether it was a test.

I don’t think he knew beforehand but I think he has suspicions as it’s happening.

"You spend so much time with the Lantsov pup," he says, voice deceptively calm.

She bristles. Knowing already where this is going.

"I wasn't the one who suggested he join us on our wedding night."

"Is that an admission?"

"No. He's simply the only friend I have here."

"Alina, if you're lacking for friends, we could always hunt them down and bring them back." He pauses, the smile he gives her is venomous. "To keep you company."

he’s such a fucking mess idek what to say. his threats are never empty tho!

He brings his lips to hers, more tender with her than she's used to. She lets herself sigh into it; though she knows it's laced with poison, it's still sweet. He barely draws away to speak, and she can almost feel the shape of the words. "Tell your prince he's the last of his line. Not that he has much claim to it to begin with."

"What?"

But he simply kisses her again, her lips still parted in surprise, and then leaves, self satisfaction in every step.

Alina can't bring herself to feel particularly badly for the former Tsar and Tsaritsa. She cares for Genya too much for that. But she does worry for Nikolai. And that it will simply be that much harder to rally against her husband one day.

reading my own stuff sucks bc I’m always like “the prose :/“

but anyway, yeah I think it’s really funny how he would absolutely have assassinated the Lantsovs anyway but now it’s primarily motivated by petty spite.

having Nikolai around is REALLY weird and messy for him, because a) he only has the one hostage to hold over her head now, so he really can’t touch him unless circumstances are very dire b) so that really prolonged meltdown he’s been having over Alina not liking him? even tho she’s otherwise dtf? well guess who she really likes and has always gotten along with! c) he also promised he’d like allow any liberties at all so he can’t keep them both locked up all the time shdgdd which would be shooting himself in the foot re: the miserable uphill battle of his own making in ever, ever making Alina like him! so he’s just going to simmer in jealousy 5ever

that being said, he’s not very good at keeping promises… case in point:

Alina had known there was trouble the moment he'd sent everyone but her away. And it was only a matter of time before the hunt for the amplifier began afresh. But it is still stunning to hear the news, seated across the oval table, staring at her husband's terribly calm face.

"You promised me," she says. "You said you would spare them."

"We need the tracker."

She grits her teeth. "If you hurt any one of them, I will fight you at every turn."

"Aren't you already?"

She stares at him in disbelief. "No. I do everything you ask."

"You keep saying that."

he’s like “of course following your friends around for the firebird doesn’t count :)”

anyway, about the rest of their argument, I think to an extent, genuinely, there’s no degree of submission Alina could ever offer that would be enough. part of that is his irrational desire for her like *preexisting* unconditional love, where he wants an impossible scenario where she simply never went against him or hated him for anything he did. but another part is again that she is currently keeping herself emotionally distant and it’s driving him slowly (more) insane.

"If you think this is me fighting you, I don't want to know your metric for cooperation. What more could you possibly want from me?"

His jaw clenches but he says nothing.

he wants her to love him!!! really bad!!!

(but he also wants to do next to nothing to earn that love/actively lashes out at her and presents *himself* as uncaring because being in a position to Feel Things and Want Affection makes him feel incredibly weak and he’s fucking angry about it.)

“Ensuring the safety of my friends was the key part of this agreement. Are you going back on your word?”

“I could,” he says, that gleam in his eye again. “What would you do? Run away?”

She stands, the chair legs screeching on the floor. “You bastard—”

He continues as if she hadn’t spoken, “I could, but I won’t. We find the firebird, and I will simply let them go again, is that enough for you, Alina?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve kept your Lantsov pup alive for this long haven’t I? And he was never even part of the agreement. Haven’t I been reasonable?”

She’s about ready to throw something at him. Perhaps to take one of the ridiculous stacks of paper he pores over often and hit him square in the face with it. She clenches her hands instead.

“It’s nothing to me whether a single otkazat’sya man dies, or ten, or a hundred. He will die eventually, to time or his own foolish choices, and it will be all the same to me. We, on the other hand, have an eternity between us. It’s time you considered that. We will outlive anyone else. The only thing that can kill us is another of our own power, Alina. You could fight me if you’re truly so stubborn, but time would simply bring you back to me again.”

The silence stretches on between them. He’s waiting for her response. How her outrage will finally boil over.

“Nothing to say, Alina?” The Darkling rests his chin in his hand, affecting boredom.

Alina circles the table to approach him. She only just catches a flash of something on his face, simple interest, perhaps apprehension. Wordlessly, she pushes him against the chair back, making room to perch on his lap. The voluminous skirts of her black kefta, it’s really a gown, spill over the chair.

He’s always so careful to school his features, to betray nothing. But she knows him now. She can identify the slightest hitch in his breath, the way he tenses.

so there’s a lot going on here but it’s dependent on the other stuff, so I’m posting a longer excerpt.

here, he does think that he’s been making an effort. like he DOES think he’s been generous and reasonable (lol) the audacity is legit. but also he’s fully goading her.

she’s just been quiet and in her own shell for a long time and he just wants her to fight him, or to show any real emotional reaction. the reaction mentioned at the end is a sort of wary interest, she’s finally *doing something* but also like… concealed desire. not even in an entirely sexual sense. again he’s just hungry for some sort of genuine emotional response from her.

"It must kill you," she says finally, barely drawing away, "how you must negotiate and bargain for a scrap of my attention."

She sees the rage flicker over his face, twist it into something ugly for just a moment, before his expression smooths again. "You seem to be under the impression that you have more bargaining power with me than you truly possess."

he keeps trying to affect indifference but like… bro… bro…. indifference is somewhat mutually exclusive from the Everything of your behavior.

Alina laughs. "For all your lofty years, and your experience, your supposed fathomless cunning. You have to keep me chained to your side and it eats at you, doesn't it?"

"What point are you trying to prove?"

"Do you love me, Aleksander? Or well. Do you think you do? Is this why you're playing this charade of marriage?"

His eyes are like chips of ice. "Go ahead, stamp your foot and lash out. It changes nothing.

"Does it hurt that I loathe you? I know it wounds your pride at least. Have you ever considered that your very best reason for me to turn to you is that on the grander scale everyone else I know is going to die?"

He hasn't let her go. He hasn't pushed her away. In fact his grip on her is bruising.

She lowers her mouth to his ear. "Have you considered that you're pathetic?"

anyway yeah she’s meant to be correct here lol. perhaps obvious and self explanatory but he hasn’t pushed her away because he’s fucking desperate 💖 a fact that makes him really mad!

He questions Nikolai for more information. For what connections they might have, where they might be going. Alina worries that she will have to intervene again. She worries that perhaps this will be the last tug the Darkling's patience needs, already stretched so thin, before it snaps.

But whatever happens behind the closed doors of the war room for nearly two hours, Nikolai emerges not seeming that much worse for the wear.

I really want to write this scene at some point. I don’t have very concrete ideas but I think the vibes are fucking insane. the two hours mention is meant to be mildly suggestive tbqh

It's a careful shot, calculated not to kill it, but only to incapacitate. She watches the firebird plummet to the ground. Blood blossoms from its plumage, the brightness of the color nearly obscene. Alina glances between it and the Darkling, who seems to be too preoccupied with savoring this victory to make the kill just yet. And her own guards have forgotten her. She will not have another chance, so she decides quickly.

The firebird is still struggling feebly when Alina aims the Cut at its slender neck.

She was expecting rage from the Darkling but he only glances back over his shoulder at her with something like weary amusement.

idk I think he’s into it. power hungriness is something he can understand and is therefore mildly quicker to forgive. it’s kind of like in R&R where he’s like “oh well I know you tried to kill me but that’s hot. there are two thrones up on that dais jsyk :)”

and like I think he would have been absolutely fine, but when it turns out that the firebird isn’t an amplifier he’s like “oh why would Alina ever exhibit anything as normal and understandable to me as a craving for power? clearly this was some sort of sabotage!”

And as terrible of an idea as it is, it isn't infrequent for her to search for solace in Nikolai's arms when the Darkling is away.

So it isn't even a surprise when she catches a glimpse of him through the tether. Just a flicker of shadow and slate gray eyes.

Typically their general surroundings don't quite appear in focus through the tether. But there would be no mistaking the tangled shape of her and Nikolai in bed.

"He knows," she whispers, dully.

he’s throwing the BIGGEST tantrum wherever he is. war crimes are probably being committed while he’s outwardly like “I don’t even care, why should it bother me?”

"You still need him," she insists. "You can't kill him."

"Do you only have the single song to sing? It's tiresome." He abandons her, looking bored. "Do you think I'm angry, Alina? Do you think I'm threatened by mere otkazat'sya? A king without a crown. A few decades and he will be dead. What is he to me? Take him on the dinner table for all I care. In fact, why don't you? I'd rather see what you've been doing behind my back. Lying is so distasteful, Alina."

They exchange unnerved glances. "You can't be serious."

"As death."

I think there’s a real element of spite and not wanting Alina to have any sort of private solace? beyond the jealousy, and being angry enough and insistent enough of his own apathy, that he’s like “lol why don’t you fuck on the table here and now!” there’s deliberate intent of inserting himself into the dynamic. of making it so that they cannot turn to each other without thinking of him.

he’s certainly angry and frustrated enough with both of them to be more than happy to have a threesome about it lol but that’s not the point of the scene. it’s more about power. of reasserting himself as the person in control of both of them.

the con is hm very dubbing here ngl. which is true of any consent given in captivity, but like there’s outright malicious intent here.

There's something about hate. It can calcify so easily into desire.

Applicable to all of them!

It's become a habit, the three of them. Alina wakes in her bed, all in a tangle. The Darkling is still asleep, an arm draped around her. Nikolai is on the other side of him, staring dully at the ceiling.

And she wonders what it means that he's careless enough to sleep in front of both of them now. How little of a threat he perceives them to be.

yeah he’s pretty content with his power over them and that they’re both simply not going to leave him!

he hasn’t gotten what he wanted in terms of a more genuine emotional connection. if anything things are more toxic now. but he’s steeled himself to that. at least rn he’s feeling secure in his control.

Alina considers what the Darkling said about her lifespan. About the lonely expanse of years ahead of her. She lets the shadow gutter out.

the irony is that Alina IS emotionally attached to him! he just refuses to believe it!

#this took me SO LONG #grishaverse #shadow and bone #darklina #darknikolina #alarkling #and I said to the star consume me #a string of words #*writer’s cap*#meta #all the bendy punctuations #a mysterious stranger has appeared #i ramble sometimes

6 notes · View notes

sleepyowlwrites · 2 years

Text

find the word tag CCCXXXI

I have so many last line tags that I could cheat to do and you'd be none the wiser, but actually I would like to write something. not tonight, tho. @spacetimewraithwrites

wood (summon story d0)

Zan put his hand back on Dair’s leg. “You don’t have to die today, if you don’t want to. You don’t ever have to do a ritual again. You can do what you want to do.”

Dair sank to his knees. He kept his eyes on the dirt as he answered, “I have to be useful.”

The words were wooden, something clearly repeated often enough to be rote.

“You don’t have to do rituals to be useful,” Shae said, her voice slipping into that strong-willed tone it had had when Zan first met her. “It’s your choice. Everything is your choice here.”

“Was I going to choose not to be saved?” Dair muttered, and Zan knew he wasn’t supposed to have heard it.

watch (dirt in the doing)

“Can you let me take care of you, too? You don’t have to tell me all your secrets. You don’t have tell anyone. But you could let us care.”

He’s so aware of the foreignness of those words coming out of his mouth. Jet doesn’t do this, doesn’t say these things. But he’s slowly realizing that change is not the most terrible thing to happen. He is capable of caring, and it’s not the end of the world.

Rune watches him think, not trying to push him away. “I don’t know how,” she says, a little breathlessly.

“Honestly, I don’t really, either,” Jet answers back, standing up, still holding onto her. “But I’m learning how to, bit by bit. In some ways I’m not really given a choice. I can’t push Copper away after just getting him back, and I don’t know what I’d do without the gang to fall back on. I’m a lot less self-sufficient than I think I am. You’re probably better than I am in that respect.”

water (abeyance, 2020)

where there was smoke on the water now there is ice crystallized webbing, threads stretched so tight I hear the song you are playing plucked on the strings it settles on my collar bones, piercing

weather (imposter, 2020)

the weather is turning the corner with its head facing away from me I dance alone it’s stressing me out, can we turn back back? minute by minute one inch to every coat collar that hangs inside the walls broken glass falls slowly suspended on a feather and the feather owner’s dead I spin on my heel to find a gun to my head

whether (dirt in the doing)

Rune has very quiet nightmares.

He can’t tell whether or not she has any on the nights that he sleeps at her apartment because they’re in separate rooms. When he pulls on new clothes from a stash that he’s trying to ignore he’s compiling there, the idea that she might awake in the night and not come wake him up too nags at him. Not that Jet wants to be woken by someone scared and crying and he has no idea how to comfort, but if she does have a nightmare and doesn’t utilize his presence, it’s such a waste. Right?

Maybe she doesn’t have any when he sleeps at her apartment. He hopes so. But the third time she crashes at his, it’s a night when Copper isn’t staying over, and Jet has no idea what wakes him up in the middle of the night.

work (pickles at midnight, 2017)

Youtube keeps me occupied while my characters fight each other with wooden swords and frying pans in my head and the villain argues with the protagonist about the questionable lack of back story. At five o'clock my dad checks on me. "You writing?" I pause my music (Skyward Sword soundtrack) and look at my pitiful work. "I'm writing." (I'm trying, really.)

wince (youth story d0)

Evie’s gaze sharpened, the way it always did when she knew her prey had been properly cornered. R could just change the subject but if Evie was in the mood to choose violence, well, his arm wouldn’t take kindly to that.

“Clarify,” he said, reluctantly. “Tell me my offenses.”

“You flirt with me.” Evie held up a finger, her tone flat but a bit pointed at the edges, and R had to hold back a wince at hearing it.

“You flirt with me, you avoid Bell, you ramble on and on to Daniel so he can’t get a word in, you avoid Mark’s entire existence like you’ve cut him out of the pages and stuffed him in your pocket so he doesn’t offended your eyes,” Evie continued to hold up fingers. “You want to saunter around like the world is jealous because needs it to be.”

choice, collar, corner, comfort. BONUS: character, clarify. @akindofmagictoo @josephinegerardywriter @dustylovelyrun @sleepy-night-child @caitwritesstuff @oh-no-another-idea @diphthongsfordays OR ANYBODY or nobody

#find the word tag #searching circle #alliteration agency

9 notes · View notes

multiicolor · 2 years

Text

hands u all one sleepy boy

HYPNOS from HADES. / canon adjacent.

#` ooc || move bitch im 𝙂𝘼𝙔 `#( i actually think his tags r still saved too hold on- )#` 💤 sleep incarnate || hypnos. `#` 💤 mirror || hypnos. `#` 💤 aes || hypnos. `#` 💤 main v. || hypnos. `#( YAAAAAAAAAAA )#( THEYRE STILL HERE )#( gonna add some more verses tho rq- )#` 💤 centaur v. || hypnos. `#` 💤 swap v. || hypnos. `#` 💤 pjo v. || hypnos. `#` 💤 modern v. || hypnos. `#( also i think im gonna stick with these icons bc im Lazy )

5 notes · View notes

cas-rivaille · 3 years

Note

HELLO, DEAR!

Undertaker here! How are you today?

I was thinking the other day and I remembered an idea of mine I requested some time ago to another blog and I wanted to see your point of view as well, if you're comfortable with it ofc! I'll change it a bit because I have more ideas about it than before.

What if, hear me out, Obey me!MC was Sukuna's vessel??

I was thinking about a Female!MC but if you want you can keep them gender neutral (I don't mind!). So let's get into it, shall we?

Some facts about MC before the Devildom:

- They've already eaten all Sukuna's fingers

-But they are able to keep him calm inside themselves because over the year they've been together, MC decided to approach him more (Ya know if you have to die with/for someone, at least know them better)

-Sukuna took a liking to the MC, even though he would never admit it. (I mean- They always visit him in his domain to talk to him, read together, play cards (yes. You heard me. The king of curses loves Poker and UNO) or chess, they always ask him where would he like to go eat something, offer him some of their food to let him try new things, ect. Sometimes, but only SOMETIMES, they let him take control (not fully but they both can talk from the same mouth and he has control over one side, while MC has control over the other one))

- Having said that, Sukuna's still a stinky sassy bastard King. He's still rude, acts like he doesn't care about them and always finds a way to let them down when they're too happy. If they're sad though, he doesn't hurt them more. Sometimes MC even asks him advice whenever they're in doubt and after his bulling he actually gives pretty good advice (if you consider extreme violence a good advice that is)

Anyway, MC was going to get executed when suddenly they fell into Devildom. Their file didn't mention Sukuna at all and MC noticed that because when they arrived covered in talismans and chains the demons were confused about it. So, they kept the King a secret until lesson 16.

After Belphegor's crushing hug, while MC (the one from the original timeline) is in Mammon's arm, before Barbatos Thanoses the other timeline, Sukuna heals them and takes fully control of their body (the tattoos, the fangs, the long black claws, the other pairs of eyes and arms appear).

Now, HOW would the brothers, Diavolo and Barbatos react?

If it is too much or I did something wrong, feel free to ignore this! It's okay! Love you and have a good day!

OH MY GOD ?? THIS IS FANTASTIC THANK YOU OMG !

(i think i'm gonna do it hc style for the individual characters feelings but also some dialogue n stuff and each hc thing for each character is written as like in the game like they all like MC except belphie for obvious reasons)

tags: swearing, lesson uhhh smth spoilers ?? i think like 16 ?? (lmk if i need to tag anything else)

also hi ‘taker🥺🥺 i’m good today,, had a bit of a rough morning but i got to see my partner so i feel better !! how are you ? :D

and without further ado..

MC who is Sukuna's Vessel

- hold up

- hold the fuck up

- it was confusing enough when there were two MCs and one of them was near death in mammon's arms

- but now the injured MC gets healed and comes back to life ? but has another set of arms and eyes and is covered in strange tattoos ?

- then the other MC disappears ?

- when the demon MC starts talking, their voice is different and what-

"What the fuck did you to do MC?" Sukuna hastily spits out, checking the body for any other injuries. MC's voice is back and talking out of the same mouth.

"Sukuna, stand down," MC says.

"But he almost killed you ! Without me we wouldn't be standing here right now !" Sukuna argues back.

"I'm aware of that, but we have to be civil about this and talk to them," MC responds sternly.

"Then I want to be present for it. I'm not letting anything happen to you- I mean me. Yes me because I die if you die and I'm too godly to die," Sukuna rambles out before retracting the other set of arms but leaving the tattoos. He opens one of the eyes and forms a mouth on MC's right cheek to watch and participate in the conversation.

All the brothers and Divolo looked stunned at the scene that just happened.

"Questions ?" MC jokingly asks.

Lucifer -

- what ?

- questions ? is MC joking ?

- who the fuck is talking out of MCs body and what jurisdiction does he have

- isnt MC supposed to be human ??

- what does this mean for their relationship ?

- why did MC keep it from him ?

- he looks at dia and barbatos with the most confused face

- looks back at MC equally confused

- def hurts his pride that he didn't know

"Explain"

Lucifer's confusion turns to anger because that's the only way he knows how to cope/react to this.

Sukuna starts talking.

"Show a little more respect. I'm a king after all."

"Don't be an ass," MC shoots back. MC looks at Lucifer a little embarrassed.

"Uh, so this is Sukuna. He's the king of curses ? We kind of share a body because... uhh... it's a very long story but i mean the gist of it is I ate his thousand year old fingers ? There was 20 of them because he had two sets of arms like you saw before- it was very gross- but i had to because of the energy they posses ? When you brought me here and I was covered in seals and chains, was when I was about to be executed because I have all of Sukuna in me. So,, he can do stuff like heal my body and give me cool powers ? I don't really know what else to say." MC rambles using awkward hand motions and finishes by scratching the back of their head.

"Way to make me sound like a total fucking loser," Sukuna glares at MC.

"For the love of god stop talking-" MC shoots back.

Mammon

- huh ? someone has been sharing a body with his MC the whole time ?

- were they present the whole time ?

- did they see him acting like an idiot in love ?

- was sukuna there during e v e r y conversation he's ever had w them

- never felt more insecure and betrayed tbh

- why wouldn't you tell him ? he was your first

</3

- wants you all to himself

- doesn't want to share you with some four armed idiot

"So he's just, there all the time ?" Mammon asks.

"Not really? He has a headspace and he usually just chills in there but he can watch what's going on if he wants to." MC responds.

"That makes me sound lazy," Sukuna complains.

"Well if you don't like how I describe you then maybe you can talk about yourself. You're very good at it," MC smirks.

"Fine. I can do whatever I want. We can trade who has control over MC's body. I have a large supply of cursed energy and will beat the shit out of the next person who touches MC," Sukuna glares at Belphie.

"Yeah beat them in poker maybe. But not mariokart. You suck at video games in the headspace," MC laughs.

Leviathan

- was that how MC was so good at video games ?

- because they spent hours on end with this guy in their head playing video games ?

- why didn't MC come to him to play games ?

- why is MC okay with sharing a body with Sukuna ?

- why can he be the one to share a body with MC ?

- why was MC playing video games with literally anyone else ?

"So let me get this straight, you are his fingers and now you share a body ? How does that even work ? That sounds like something out of the manga 'My best friend ate some ancient object and now shares a body with an immortal warrior'" Levi questions MC.

"Okay so, Sukuna lived a really long time ago. When he died, the only thing that survived were his fingers. They each hold an incredible amount of cursed energy and it's only his fingers so from there you can imagine how powerful he was with the rest of his body," MC explains.

"Okay but that doesn't tell me why you ate the fingers ?" Levi raises an eyebrow.

"Oh. So I went to a high school for Jujutsu sorcerers, which are people who can manipulate cursed energy, and once I ate the first one to save my friend from dying, my choices were to die now or eat all of Sukuna and then be executed because he would die with me," MC says as if them dying was nothing.

Satan

- why has he never heard about Sukuna in any of the books he's read ?

- he historically doesn't exist in anything the devildom has book-wise

- so who is he ?

- needs to find out everything he can about him

- is there a way to separate MC and Sukuna ?

- his blood is boiling at the thought of MC sharing a body with someone

"So you've basically had super human powers this entire time and elected to not tell us ?" Satan glares at MC.

"Well, when you put it like that it sounds bad. I just didn't want you all to meet Sukuna because he has a lot of anger issues and is quite an asshole and I was trying to avoid this entire conversation that is happening," MC sighs.

"Rude," Sukuna says.

"Anger issues. You think we couldn't deal with this ? Are you serious right now ?" Satan asks.

MC shrugs their shoulders nervously.

"How much do you actually know about what sharing a body with him does to you ?" Satan asks while looking at the small mouth and glaring.

"I mean, I get these marks because he had them when he was alive. He was also so powerful to the point he had four arms and another set of eyes, like you saw before. I get those when he takes over mostly, but I can kee him restrained. But the eye thing is why I've always had slits under my eyes because the eyes are the most common thing to show up. The arms don't really. But it's entirely painless so don't worry," MC somewhat calmly explains.

Asmodeus

- those marks make MC look so good wtf-

- not the time

- so this Sukuna person lived a thousand years ago ?

- what was this about jujutsu sorcery ?

- what even is that ?

- asmos not the brightest on the block but from the looks on his brothers faces none of them know what the fuck MC is talking about either.

- they've explained a little bit of it b there's still some missing info

- what is sharing a body really like

- how much of MCs body can change to be like Sukunas ?

"So how much of your body can he control ? What can he heal ? Could he bring you back from the dead ?" Asmo curiously asks.

"He can't control much because it's my body and I have a lot of raw power by myself. I don't know if he can bring us back from the dead. I don't think so though or else the Jujutsu school wouldn't have tried to execute me. He used to be able to bring us back when I hadn't eaten all of his fingers, but now I don't think he can," MC explains.

"So why do you let him live in your body if he can't do much for you ?" Asmo questions.

"Well one, I don't think there's a way to get him out-"

"I'm still here you know," Sukuna interrupts.

"You've made that clear," MC says before continuing, "And two he can do stuff for me. It's like a symbiotic relationship. I give him a host and he protects me."

Beelzebub

- protects MC ?

- that's his job

- why is someone else protecting MC ?

- overall confusion

- even tho MC has gone over it multiple times, he doesn't get how or why Sukuna is in MC's body

- maybe it's the shock

. was this why MC could challenge him to armwrestling and almost win ?

"So how long has he been in you ?" Beel asks.

"About a year," MC responds.

"Can he make you live longer aside from healing you ?" Beel asks hopefully.

"I'm sorry, I don't think so..." MC says while looking at the ground. They cross their arms. They look small, as if they aren't small enough compared to him already.

"So, what does this mean ? Now that your secret is out... are you going to stay in the devildom with us ? Or do you have to leave ?"

" If I leave I'll surely be executed when I go back to the human world. If I stay I don't know what will happen to me, but it's not up to me. It's up to you guys if you want me to stay. I understand if you want me to go, I was harboring a big secret and it's probably unnerving to know that you're never truly alone with me, but Sukuna actually cares about my boundaries even though he acts like he doesn't. There are some pluses and there are some drawbacks but ultimately you have to decide." MC responds, looking from brother to brother then at Dia and Barbatos

Belphie

- MC ? dead if you back to the human world ? doesn't bother him

- he doesn't care

- he hasn't known MC long enough to care

- diavolo may have told everyone that MC was a descendant of human Lilith and he told everyone the events that actually happened, but why should he have any attachment to MC

- MC isnt Lilith, and MC sure as hell doesn't like him after the events that happened today

- from what he's heard, MC dying would be good for the human world

"I say send MC back. What happens to them isnt our problem any more," Belphie says while under his magical restraints Diavolo put on him.

"Of course you would say that," Satan glares at him.

"Shut up Belphie !!" Mammon and Levi yell.

"You don't have any right to an opinion in this matter." Lucifer states.

"Belphie that's mean," Asmo says.

Beel frowns.

"I vote they stay. I like MC regardless, and if all I have to do is adjust to Sukuna then I'll do it," Beel says while looking Belphie dead in the eye.

There's a beat of silence.

"Me too," Mammon says.

"Hey ! I was going to say that !" Levi protests.

"Oooh~ Count me in !" Asmo says with a smile.

"I also think they should stay," Satan says and looks at MC.

"My personal preference is also that they stay, but Lord Diavolo it's up to you," Lucifer says and looks at Dia.

Diavolo

- he knew there was something off, but couldnt place his finger on it

- he also constantly got a powerful vibe from MC and this explains it

- he was very fond of MC and enjoyed their presence

- he knew what he was going to do

"Barbatos, what do you think ?" Dia asks him.

"The decision is up to you m'lord," Barbatos responds.

"Well Id also like the input of my trusty all knowing butler," Diavolo laughs.

"Then, I see no reason to send them back to the human world. They can live out their lives here and safe from the school that wants to execute them. It also wouldn't be an issue to get anyone from the human world here if MC so desired," Barbatos replied.

"Then it's settled ! Welcome to the devildom for the rest of your life MC!!" Diavolo smiled and welcomed MC with open arms.

MC smiled and accepted the hug.

Barbatos

- he didn't know all along, but he know when the timelines crossed and he had to erase the other

- MC was very near and dear to his heart though and he wasnt about to let them be killed

- just wants to keep MC safe

I HOPE I DID A GOOD JOB AND THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST REMEMBER TO FRINK SOME WATER ILY TAKER <3

- mars :)

226 notes · View notes

echos-newlegs · 3 years

Text

So this is an NSFW Alphabet for Echo requested by @smallandangrey . They requested a Tech one as well, and an Echo fic so 😳 expect some more stuff.

I am still working on other requests in my inbox as well! Dw. Just worked on this since it was easier for my tired brain. Hopefully I can write an actual one-shot tomorrow 😌💕💕

No tags since this is strictly nsfw and I don't wanna make the tags uncomfortable 😳 idk it's late and I'm overthinking lmaoo

Echo NSFW Alphabet below the cut

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Since the citadel Echo has been real into affection. Especially with you. It often grounds him and reminds him that he's there, you're there, this is real. This is happening. So when the two of you finish he is almost always pulling you close to him. Though it did take some warming up, since at first he was really worried he'd hurt you or make you uncomfortable with his mechanical limbs.

After sex he just enjoys a good cuddle. He Especially loves it when you let him lay his head on your chest and you hold him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

After the citadel incident he's never really been into anything on himself. He'd have to say his eyes or his mouth. Since you always say you love his eyes, and his mouth seems to bring you the most pleasure from sex. Though I do hc only his thigh down were blown off in the explosion. He still isn't too sure about it since after citadel he lost a lot of his stamina and he doesn't last as long as he used to.

On you, I see this hc a lot but it honestly makes sense to me. Don't ask why, but he is a tits man. He enjoys the softer, sweeter things in life. So your tits? Small or big? Sheesh he's on 'em like they're his will to live! He could lay on them, squeeze 'em, or even suck on them all night if you let him. After you got him to open up about what he wanted to try out. Which again- took some time. But he admitted he'd like to fuck your tits. It was awkward at first for him, but he absolutely nearly died after. Especially since that was probably the shortest he'd ever last with you. He just completely lost it, especially when you licked some of the cum that got on the corner of your mouth. He swears his soul left him for a second after that.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He's not too into messes, but he does enjoy Cumming on your chest or your stomach. Echo doesn't really want to even try and risk accidentally impregnating you. Even if you are on the pill. Tech explained to him how even condoms AND the pill can backfire in numerous ways, and now he's just not risking it. So he normally just cums on your chest or. If you're okay with it, he'll finish in your mouth. Which also has him going absolutely nuts.

As for yours? He loves it on his tongue. Eating you out is one of his favorite things to do, and when you cum from JUST his tongue? Absolutely heavenly for the man.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Echo would be interested in trying out toys I fell. Especially with his mecho hand. He'd find add ons that gave you pleasure. Or was just enough to just tease you with. I feel like he would also have a dirty photo of you saved for just him when the two of you are apart. One that you don't know about so it just adds to his own thrill.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Echo at first after the citadel is fairly rusty. If the two of you were together before then he's really insecure he won't meet the expectations like he did before he was in stasis for almost over a year. If the two of you weren't together he's still insecure, but at least he knows that you don't know how he was in bed previous years before.

He does in fact know what he's doing. His arc twin is Fives, and I am sure that door told him stories and hooked Echo up with at least one or two beings in their lifetime.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Since Echo is a tits man he likes you either on your back, riding him, or fucking you with a mirror in front of the two of you. The way your tits bounce mesmerize him and he loves having his mouth or hands on them while the two of you get nasty. What drives him absolutely feral is when you ride him and bring his hands up to your chest. Then squeeze your hands over his his while they squeeze your breasts. Absolutely divine.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends on his mood. Echo has more of a sarcastic, dry sense of humor. So if he is feeling it he will crack a joke here or there, but not too many. If you two are having sex after a long mission where he thought he wasn't going to make it out(or if he didn't think you were, if you travel with tbb.) Then he's normally more serious and sappy while he fucks you slowly into the night. Reminding himself that he has you and you have him, still.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Echo is pretty well groomed. He doesn't like a mess, and plus it's too itchy for him when it gets too long. So he always keeps it trimmed down. Never shaved, since for one, he doesn't like the feel of it growing back. Then two he just doesn't like himself with no hair down there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Echo is normally pretty romantic especially when it comes to sex. He doesn't fuck to fuck, he fucks for love. He normally only sleeps with people he has an absolute attraction to. Someone that he knows won't hurt him. Or at least believes they won't. So he normally does his best to keep the moment romantic and perfect for the two of you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Echo normally doesn't jack off too much. He usually waits to come home to you so the two of you can actually help each other feel good. Rather than a hand and his imagination. Though, if he does get a nasty picture of you? He won't hesitate to use it if the mission lasts longer than usual or he's extra stressed out from his crew mates.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise Kink: this boy will absolutely love you all night long, the more you praise him. Even simple things like "that feels so good," "you're so amazing," and stuff like that will push him further to make you feel absolutely angelic.

Not sure if this is a kink or what you'd call it, but man would die if you gave him a lap dance. Echo loves taking care of you, but when you take care of him?? He feels like the luckiest guy in the galaxy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers the comfort of a bed. Where the two of you have time to appreciate everything you give each other. There has been a rare occasion or two where he gets a little handsy at 79s after a few too many drinks and a guy flirting with you. Where you find yourself getting fingered in the corner or fucked in the bathroom.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Echo loves it when you wear lingerie. Even if you don't think you look good in it he thinks you're absolutely beautiful no matter what. And if it's blue or white he goes feral.

If you kiss him in front of someone hitting on him. Or hold his hand when he's being hit on. Show any signs that he is yours and you are his, he's probably going to take you the moment you two have time.

Another big turn on for him is when you praise him throughout the day. Man can't resist it. Especially when you say it in a dirtier tone and act all innocent when he confronts you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Bondages is a bug no from him. From all the times in the war he's been held in restraints, or he's witnessed his brothers and Generals in restraints he can't stand them. He can't even handle you in them. It triggers something in him that ruins the mood for the both of you.

He doesn't like the thought of knife or gun play. If you or him are getting hurt in the process he won't do it. He may spank you playfully here or there, but that’s about it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He honestly prefers giving over receiving. He loves it when you're a writhing mess and gripping at him or the sheets for dear life. The taste of you and the sound of your lewd moans has him nearly creaming his pants. Plus he just loves the satisfaction of knowing he can make you come undone like that.

He isn't against you giving him oral here or there though. Some days he loves it, especially when he's stressed out and you just drop on your knees like some sort of gift from above.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Echo prefers a more slow and sensual pace. He loves making it last as long as he can. He is definitely one of those, "this could be out last time. Let's make it last." Type of guys. So expect more love making than fucking. Though there are time where he'll give you a good fuck. Maybe one of the nights where he does try and dom. Though it normally ends with you sitting on his face because he absolutely loves it when you do. If you suffocated him he would die a happy man.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn't too fond of them, but he isn't against them either. If he is doing a quickie he'd prefer to make sure no one caught you two. He'd probably die of humiliation.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Echo will only experiment if you recommend something new. As long as it isn't really messy/gross, the two of you stay safe through it, and restraints and blind folds aren't a part of it he's all good for it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

After the citadel he lost a majority of his strength in general. Before he could last about 3-4 long rounds. Now he's lucky if he gets 2 in. He normally doesn't last too long either. Though after time he does begin to last longer and you're able to finish with him for the most part.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

His hand. As said above he uses his robotic hand for sex quite a bit. He adds on accessories. Anything to make his partner feel absolutely euphoric.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Echo enjoys teasing here or there on his end, but you can normally work your way around it. One simple please and he's normally doing what you want. You have him wrapped around your finger for the most part.

He normally despises when you tease him. Mostly because he just hates begging for anything.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Echo is a talker and a groaner. He loves muttering sweet nothings in your ear, and will also praise you to the moon. Especially if you praise in return. He grunts and groans to the point the rest of tbb tease him about it til he's flushed red and trying to.make up excuses.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He would like to try sharing you. He knows his brothers like you and has thought about sharing you with one or two of them at a time. He would take charge through it, since you are technically with him and not them, but he just thinks it would be exciting and fun. He doesn't know how to ask and is too anxious you would hate the idea to ask, though.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Echo lost a lot of his muscles while in stasis. He is slowly gaining that and his color back though. Along with getting upgrades for his prosthetics. Like an actual hand that Tech built for him. As for his dick, it's average clone size. Longer and thicker than the average person's.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His isn't really too high. Even once he gets used to the fact that you love him and his body, he doesn't really have that high of a sex drive. He controls himself pretty good and doesn't really even need to jack off much unless he's really stressed. That doesn’t mean he won't initiate sex with you the moment he sees you after a long mission though.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He for the most part tries to stay up, playing with your hair until your asleep above/below/beside him. Wherever the two of you decide to cuddle against one another. It's sort of his way of making sure it's all real though. Some nights he is the first to pass out though.

#clone wars echo #arc trooper echo #clone trooper echo #echo #echo the clone wars #echo x reader #bad batch echo #bad batch x reader #star wars #the bad batch #clone x reader #star wars alphabet #bad batch smut #echo smut

360 notes · View notes

holden-caulfield · 3 years

Text

Mere Acquaintances

main masterlist

SUMMARY: “Our siblings are in an arranged marriage and so we see each other at awkward social gatherings between our two kingdoms” AU

WARNINGS: there might be a swearword?

WORD COUNT: 1439

A/N: uhmmm this is my entry for @ladyvesuvia 's writing challenge... hope you like it (i suck at writing royal aus because i can't make it 'royal' lmao)

How exciting, you thought to yourself the first time your brother announced his betrothal to the daughter of the adjacent kingdom's king. You knew he was completely enthralled by her and you heard stories from your very own brother about how the two of them got along just perfectly.

You had never been favorable to arranged marriages, but, once you saw that sparkle in your brother's eyes, you couldn't have been happier for him.

How exciting, that was until you had to actually meet the princess. She was lovely, exactly what you wished for your brother, but her brother was a completely different story.

You had met him few times actually, just a few awkward encounters with the young man whenever you were both forced to attend your parents' gatherings.

To get along, they said. You tried your best to appear friendly and open, that much could not be said about Draco Malfoy, the royal pain in the ass.

He never once looked at you unless it was with an air of superiority. You exchanged three words in total since you met him and those three, brief words were "So, how-"

"No."

You decided not to conversate with him anymore, not that you cared; the man was so full of himself he probably did not need you to entertain him since he had his own company.

Royal parties were spent in silence: you made polite conversation whenever required, but didn't despise the quietness that created once you were left alone for it did help you ponder.

In those moments, your favoured object of interest was him. You were not watching him because you liked him, that be clear. You were analyzing him: he was arrogant, yes, but there must have been something more; no one can be that shallow.

He looked just like any prince should have looked like; regal. But with a touch of stiff excellence that made him always stand out. He looked displaced among his peers, almost as if deeply inside he wished not to be a part of it.

He looked just the same that day, blank expression on his elegant features, carried around with such poise you wondered why everyone's eyes weren't directed towards him.

He caught your eye, an action that made heat rise to your cheeks and that made your gaze quickly settle on something else. That something turned out to be the ballroom, full of couples dancing and cheerily talking with one another.

You noticed your brother, waltzing with her betrothed. He looked happy, genuinely happy; that smile was one you had not seen on his face since you were children and-

"Lady y/n." the sudden voice reaching your ears made you jump slightly, you were not expecting such a deep baritone to greet you.

You turned around to find him in front of you. You narrowed your eyes, unsure of the situation you had just witnessed, unsure of the reason why he had approached you.

"Would you join me for a dance?" you couldn't believe your ears, they must have been deceiving you.

His expression was the same as always, you couldn't decipher whether the proposal he had just made was truthful or just pure amusement for him to see the disheveled state his simple question had put you in.

He offered you his hand and your first instinct was obviously to refuse it, what kind of gentleman ignores someone all the time and then asks said them to dance out of the blue?

But there was something inside of you that wanted to dance with him, that wanted to take his sophisticated hand and let it guide you towards the ballroom.

"We shouldn't." you uttered and his hand fell promptly, an emotion unknown to you crossed his face but he quickly shrugged it off. "It's our siblings' ball, we shouldn't steal their spotlight."

"By dancing?" he asked, slightly chuckling.

"Yes, by dancing." you tried to sound convincing, but you could sense he had seen right through you.

You returned your gaze to the ballroom, a feeling of regret harbouring in your mind.

You felt him come closer, his body heat slowly engulfing you, but you refused to turn towards him.

"They won't mind, princess." his voice was low and enchanting as if he was performing some kind of magic spell upon you. And it was working.

"They will."

"They won't." he said offering his hand again, his lips breaths away from the shell of your ear and you felt chills running down your spine at the words spoken so closely in such a public space, under everyone's eyes. "They are too busy contemplating the happy couple to care about anything else."

You gave him a sideways glance; a terrible mistake because his eyes were now piercing yours, making it impossible to refuse the proposal.

You took his hand, entwining your fingers with his, and it felt so natural, so instinctive, as if it were an everyday procedure.

He led you among the other couples, the stares the two of you received were of no importance as he held your hand tightly in his, as if he was scared you could have regretted the action.

"Wait, wait! What are you doing?" you suddenly stopped, common sense finding its way back in your brain but it was not enough for you to leave his hand.

He furrowed his brows, creasing his ethereal face in question.

"Why now? Why are you suddenly so interested in me?" your face earnest, your eyes pleaded for any excuse.

But he remained silent, his icy stare penetrating your orbs with such intensity you felt your legs trembling slightly. His grip threatened to loosen but you held him, refusing to let him leave you alone like he had done countless times before.

"What are you doing?" you asked again.

He opened his mouth to reply, his hard look fell along with his feigned arrogance, letting a new face emerge: it was him but he was so different you could have easily mistaken him for someone else.

"I'm trying to be nice, we are supposed to get along... I didn't think it was this much of a deal, princess." he replied, the insolence rapidly coming back. He tried to let go of your hand but you were adamant; he would have given you a reason whether he wanted to or not.

"That's not it."

"Do you think you know everything, princess?" he kept on adding that last word with such spite, as if it was you who randomly decided to save him from the boredom of the royal ball with the excuse of a dance between mere acquaintances.

"I do think there is something you are not telling me, prince." he visibly stiffened but the corners of his mouth gave you the opposite impression, as if he finally felt at ease for the first time ever with you.

"You are wrong."

"Am i, prince?"

With speed similar to that of light, he took your waist in his grasp, still holding your hand with his own, your faces now embarrassingly close as you swayed on the dance floor.

You felt his chest rise up and down against yours but he refused to fully meet your eyes, instead searching for something in your face that he already deemed impossible to find.

"Am i?" you repeated, tentatively.

"No, no you're not." he spoke slowly but somehow hurriedly, as if he didn't want to let the words escape his mouth because once they were out it meant they would have been real, thus meaning his feelings couldn't be denied any longer.

"Then tell me. What are you doing?" your tone was soft and careful, but a touch of impulsiveness was still audible.

"We're dancing, aren't we?" he said smugly, his gaze focusing on the guests that were now watching the two of you very intently. "Maybe we shouldn't have, we are attracting a lot of attention."

You frantically turned your head to look at all the people watching but his firm grip returned you to his eyes. "Don't look at them, princess, look at me."

You couldn't describe it but all the days he had spent ignoring you vanished as he spoke to you so softly. But you needed an answer.

"Why are you doing this?" sincerity lacing your tone, he couldn't help but smile and sigh.

"I fancied you since the first moment, y/n, but i thought it would have been seen as inappropriate to get closer to my sister's fiancé's sister." you giggled lightly, rolling your eyes.

"It might be, but i'm glad you changed your mind, then."

taglist - @turn-to-page-394-please @gwlvr @dracosaccount @henqtic @dracomalfoys-wh0re @eunoniaa @oeuryale @wh0re4blaise @harmqnia @sanctimoniousslytherpuff @maybesandohnos @dracoswhore007 @paulina1998 @bungunz @malfoysbiitch @dreamy-clousds @malfoyxxdraco23 @saayanaaa @xlauren-malfoyx @riddleswh0r3crux @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @elevatorsdoor @dracoscene @beforeoursunsets @bby-gxrnet @desiredmalfoy @marrymetheonott @o-rion-sta-r @justreadingficsdontmindme @mollysolo @cheriedraco @prettygirlkay @dlmmdl

[if your name is crossed out, check your privacy settings! if you don't want to be tagged anymore, tell me!]

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #fanfiction #harry potter #fanfic #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #vesuvia400wc

175 notes · View notes

closedmadness · 3 years

Text

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

summary: maybe all of the things you’ve gone through was just challenges that prepared you for a better life — you started thinking that way after sweet pea literally saved your life and made it even better. part 2 of heartbreak

pairings: sweet pea x male reader

warnings → swearing・fluff・serpent initiation・light verbal fight

a/n: since part 1 ended in heartbreak (which the title is) this one will not be. I didn’t know you guys are gonna love that one thank you for your comments🥺 check out the navigation in my profile for tagging system!

Tag: @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @wizard-of-yeet @akwardpikachu

“i won!” you yelled over sweet pea’s groans of defeat, jumping up and down happily as toni and fangs snickered from their place.

you’re currently playing pool with sweet pea at the serpents bar and spending your time with them. you should actually be at school in this hours, but you skipped them with a permission from your father and hang out your friends instead.

after it was revealed that your father is the serpent king, you slept at sweet pea’s trailer with meeting him in your mind. at first you didn’t know if he remembers you or even think about you, but they told you he has been telling the serpents about his son that he regrettably left alone.

you could still remember the first meeting with him.

“he talked about you a lot, (y/n).” sweet pea said, his expression soft as he looked at you.

a genuine surprise appeared on your face and you raised your brows, “he did?” sweet pea nods in confirmation. you looked down, not having expected that your father still remembered you.

you were pretty sure in your entire life that he would’ve forgotten about you, moved on with his life and started a new family. being told he has been regretting his decision and telling his serpents about his son was totally not what you expected. your mother pretty much made sure you knew that you don’t matter, that your father was so sick with the idea of having you, so you don’t know how to react after knowing that he cared about you all along.

“he’s still looking for his son.” toni told, catching your attention. “he told us he went to get his son, but wasn’t able to because his wife never allowed.”

you looked down; it was making you emotional realizing your father cared about you all this time. “sweet pea...” you called, pulling on the sleeve of his leather jacket. “take me to my father.”

sweet pea didn’t have to be told twice. he pulled you with him and exited the trailer — accompanied by his two friends — entering the whyte wyrm. there were serpents everywhere, but sweet pea paid no attention to them and swiftly pushed pass them, making sure none would pick a fight with you by holding your hand, toni and fangs keeping you close with them, following behind you.

all four of you reached the very end side of the bar and your eyes caught the sight of a dominant looking man in the center — probably in the age of 30 or 40 — sitting on a chair with few other old serpents surrounding him.

“(f/n).” sweet pea caught his attention, standing in front of him.

“what’s up, sweet pea?” his rough voice asked, averting his eyes from the serpents around him to the boy. the said male didn’t say anything, instead just moved out of the way to reveal you.

the older man, who you assume your father by what sweet pea called him, looked at you and instantly froze in his place. many emotions swirled in his eyes and expression as he looked at your face, then at your whole body, like he couldn’t believe if what he was seeing is real. he almost don’t believe it. so he slowly stood up from the chair and walked over to you, step by step carefully, as if afraid you would disappear from his sight.

you looked up at him and slightly shrunk as he was tall and practically towered over you. the two friends encouraged you by patting your back, sweet pea just squeezing your hand before going over to the side to watch the whole scene.

“(y-y/n)...?” he stuttered your name as he slowly lifted his hands, afraid that you might not have been his son that he always looked for.

you slightly flinched, but stayed in your place, knowing your father is different from your mother. “dad?” your voice called him weakly, as if you were afraid he’s not your father. before you could process anything, he pulled you in a warm and tight embrace, a light sob leaving his lips.

all the serpents present in the bar stopped what they were doing after hearing their leader’s sob to see him holding you tightly, and they focused their attention on you two.

you hugged him back before breaking down suddenly, tears escaping your eyes from the relief of finding your father and a sob leaving your lips, turning into a quiet cry of anguish afterwards. everyone who heard your quiet cries felt their heart clench at how broken you sounded, but they also heard a cry of relief in it, and they couldn’t help but frown in sadness at the reunion happening in front of them.

your hold tightens around him and he realized just then that you’re afraid he might leave you again. “i won’t leave you again, son. i promise. from the bottom of my heart.” he told you firmly as he tightened his embrace on you as well.

after you calmed down from your break down, a chuckle left your lips as you pulled away from his warm embrace to look at his face. “i missed you, dad. i- i thought you forgot about me.” you sniffled.

he wiped your tears and gave you a sad smile. “i missed you too, (y/n). i forgot about your mother, but never you. i always thought of you and regretted not taking you with me, even if it means you’re gonna have to live as a serpent.”

you sniffled, “i would rather live as a serpent than with her. it’s been really awful, she never went to rehab and continued doing drugs. she rarely ever gets home and when she does, all she do is hit me and complain about my existence. it’s really exhausting, dad.”

your father’s expression darkened at that as toni, fangs and sweet pea all winced. you furrowed your brows and looked at them quizzically after hearing their winces, only to receive a shake of head from them. they knew how (f/n) is when a family of his gets hurt, whether it’s a serpent or a real family member, and you telling him about your horrible mother made them already know what she will go through.

though, before that, (f/n) pulled you in an embrace again. “you will never have to go back to her again, (y/n). i’ll take care of her. of course, only if you want to.”

“sure, dad. only if you promise to make up for the lost times.”

he smiled happily, “i definitely will.”

you smiled at the memory and looked at sweet pea, who was pouting due to his defeat. if it weren’t for him saving you, you wouldn’t have met your father. you won’t admit out loud how thankful you are, though.

“(y/n)~” your father’s cooing voice called and you turned your head, only to have him crash you in a tight embrace. you chuckled at him and hugged back, enjoying and loving how he shows you his love with just little gestures.

sweet Pea, toni and fangs watched from the side, the raven haired boy smiling at how happy you looked in the arms of your father. toni saw his loving gaze and nudged him, “you’re making heart eyes to him again, sweets.” she teased, making fangs snicker.

sweet pea rolled his eyes, “yeah, whatever.”

“dude, we’ve only known him for like, three weeks and you’re already head over heels in love with him.” fangs deadpanned, grinning widely.

“can you blame me?” sweet pea snapped, returning his gaze on you laughing with your father. “he’s so precious, like, he isn’t like any other northsiders we encountered.”

“and he’s hot.” toni added, making him glare at her but nod in agreement nonetheless.

“isn’t this his fourth time skipping school to hang out with us, though?” fangs asked realizing.

“he only go to school if he feels like it. (f/n) gives him permission to skip and whenever he doesn’t give him permission, he goes to school.” sweet pea answered with a shrug, not really bothered by the fact that you skip school just to hang out with them.

he was rather happy that you’re choosing to be with them instead of your friends at northside. it just proved to him that even a northsider like you can choose the southsiders. besides, this way he could easily make efforts for you to date him.

you went back to sweet pea with a pout after a talk with your father. “pea~” your whine filled his ears and he quickly turned as you dive into his arms. “dad said i should go to school more instead of hanging out with you guys here.” you pouted, looking up at him.

his eyes lingered longer at your pouty lips before moving his gaze up to meet yours. “i think your dad is right, (y/n). we’re really happy that you’d rather hang out with us than your friends at northside, but you don’t go to school for nothing.” he softly said, stroking your hair.

you nuzzled your face into his chest, enjoying the way his hand stroked your hair gently. “yeah... if you say so, pea.”

“we agree with him, but thanks for asking, (y/n).” toni jokingly said and laughed, earning a snicker from fangs and a muffled apology from you.

“but didn’t your dad say something else?” fangs asked and toni nudged him strongly with her elbow, making the former wince in pain and rub the spot above his hip.

you stayed silent for a moment, but spoke nonetheless. “he asked me if i want to be a serpent.”

sweet pea gently cupped your cheek with one hand and raised your face up. “well, what did you answer him?”

“i told him i want to, and that i will participate in the initiation instead of being pardoned just because i’m his son.” you stated and closed your eyes, placing a hand just above his. “it would be unfair for me to join the serpents without doing the initiation you all have gone through.”

their hearts warmed up at your words and a satisfied smile made its way upon sweet pea’s face. “are you sure, baby? joining us have a lot of consequences.”

you smiled at the nickname. you and sweet pea had a lot going on, both of you acted like a couple but never really asked out each other. “i don’t really care as long as i have you, fangs and toni.” you said making sweet pea chuckle, while toni aweed and fangs swooned. you were so sweet.

the four of you began to play pool once again with the serpent’s initiation in your mind.

tomorrow, you’re gonna be one of the southside serpents your father leads and you couldn’t be any more happier.

“Hey, (Y/n)!” Veronica greeted you as all the corefour entered the student lounge.

You smiled and nodded at her, greeting back. “Hey, Roni.” Your eyes then darted back to your phone that you were holding, sending a text back to Sweet Pea.

As Veronica, Archie and Kevin sat on the couches, Betty and Jughead looked at each other and frowned before sitting down as well.

It has been four weeks since the extreme heartbreak and meeting the Serpents. You’ve been less hanging out with the corefour, but only when Betty and Jughead would tag along for a double date. If it isn’t a double date, you would hang out with them but pay little attention to the couple. Kevin, Archie and Veronica noticed you distancing yourself from the couple, but didn’t say anything because they knew how you felt about the news. Though, they were thankful you’re not ignoring them. They wouldn’t have handled it if you did, since you’re a kind of person who smiles at everyone and gives them attention even a little bit.

“(Y/n).” Jughead called and the three you considered as your best friends stopped their conversation to listen.

“Hmm?” You just hummed in response, raising your brows and eyes still facing the phone screen.

“What’s happening to you? The days you don’t come to school are increasing more and more.”

You rolled your eyes mentally. So now he notice. “I’ll come to school from now on, don’t you worry.” You replied with gaze still on your phone screen. “And it’s none of your business.” You added.

All of them snapped their gaze to you surprised. You never talked to anyone like that, let alone Jughead, your best friend since childhood. Well, to you he’s no longer your best friend.

“What’s up with you? You know I notice that you’re ignoring me and Betty.”

“You only notice things that are convenient to you.” Your neutral and void of emotion strung a core into his heart. It sounded so dead, like you no longer had a heart to him.

Jughead and Betty looked at you in disbelief, while the others exchanged a uneasy glance. They knew something was wrong with you, and Veronica isn’t stupid to know you no longer had a thing for Jughead, but this was not what they expected to hear from you. Clearly, you moved on.

The beanie wearing boy shakes himself out of shock and frowns. “Did I do something wrong to you?”

You looked up from your phone and his breath caught up in his throat; your face was void of all emotion. “No.” That was your only answer as you looked back at your phone.

Jughead’s frown deepened as he and Betty made an eye contact. What is wrong with you?

Today is the day of your serpent initiation.

You were feeling nervous, constantly fidgeting with your fingers and lips pouting. Your fidgeting fingers were interrupted by Sweet Pea, who took a hold of your hand after noticing you were nervous.

“You’ll do great, (Y/n). I know it. You’re strong.” He comforts with a small smile on his face.

You smiled at him, relief and calmness washing over you at his warmth. “Thanks, Pea. It really means a lot.” You said and squeezed his hand.

A comfortable silence fell on the two of you as the time of your initiation slowly comes. Sweet Pea wondered what to say in this situation — you’re going to have the initiation in a few minutes and he hasn’t told you anything encouraging yet. He was worried about you.

“Hey, uh... (Y/n)?” Sweet Pea called your name, rather nervously. You looked at him questioningly. “After your initiation, do you want to go to Pop’s together? I mean, like a date?” His tone was filled with fear of rejection.

He knew that you were in love with Jughead and didn’t want to do something that will make you remember what you had to go through while being in love with him. This is his first time having someone who cares for him deeply as he does for them, so he didn’t want to ruin whatever you two had. Asking you out on a date is the hardest thing to do, specially since you’re his best friend.

A look of surprise coated your face at first, making him prepare himself for the rejection, but what you said next surprised him. “Sure, Sweet Pea. I was wondering when you’d ask.” You giggled, a damn laugh that he always loves to hear.

Relief washes over him as he sighed, a happy smile making its way onto his lips for a moment before it was replaced by a smirk. “So you were waiting for me to ask you out, huh?” He teasingly said, letting go of your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist instead.

“Maybe, maybe not.” You grinned.

Sweet Pea chuckles and pulls you closer, cupping your cheek with his free hand as he leans in to give you a short, but sweet kiss. A laugh escaped both of your lips while still maintaining a very close distance, your noses touching and lips barely.

Someone clearing their throat interrupted your sweet moment and you turned to see your dad standing there giving Sweet Pea a look. Instantly, Sweet Pea let go of you and straightened himself. You laughed, noticing his nervousness upon getting caught by your father.

Your father gave Sweet Pea a look that says ‘we will talk about this’ before turning to you. “Son, it’s time for your initiation. Are you sure you can do this?” His concern made you smile.

“I’m good, dad. Thanks for worrying about me.”

Just like that, the three of you went outside where your initiation will be held. Luckily for the both of you, Sweet Pea wasn’t allowed to join in the initiation since he and your dad will be having a conversation. It’s an order from your dad that no one can say against.

As the initiation started, Sweet Pea stood at the side worriedly together with your father, who was looking at him rather than you. He could hear the sound of a fist colliding with your face and he didn’t want to see his son going through the initiation.

“Do you really love him?” (F/n) suddenly asked Sweet Pea, causing him to avert his eyes from you to him.

The raven haired boy nodded without hesitation, “I do. Very much. Whenever I’m around him, I get this feeling that I should protect him. You know how selfless he can get.” He stated, turning back to see you getting punched again, but standing back up nonetheless.

Sweet Pea knew how strong you are. You wouldn’t back down easily, and maybe that is why he didn’t stop you from going through the initiation even when it was painful for him to watch you getting hurt.

(F/n) nods, a whole part of him agreeing to Sweet Pea that you can be really selfless at times. He could remember the time his heart broke when he saw you still caring for your mother even after everything you’ve gone through with her.

“He really is selfless. But he won’t back down without a fight, I know that. He could beat up anyone in the Serpents if he wants to. They wouldn’t stand a chance against him.” (F/n) laughed proudly.

Sweet Pea chuckled, “I agree. He’s kinda scary when he’s mad.”

They both turned back to the initiation, only to find you still standing even after all the punches were thrown. You stood your ground, fists clenched on your sides, blood running down your face and soaking your shirt. The last punch was from a serpent who had a brass knuckle and getting punched by him hurt a lot, but you didn’t give up and still stood. A cheer of happiness came from the Serpents after the initiation was finished.

Sweet Pea’s smile was huge as he rushed over to you, gently cupping your face with his hands. “You did it, baby. You did it.” He cheered, causing a small smile to appear on your face.

He was quick to lead you inside to treat your wounds, Toni and Fangs already waiting there. “You did it! You fucking did it!!” They both cheered, jumping up and down making you chuckle.

Sweet Pea starts to tend to you, treating the wounds on your face as gently as possible with the first aid kit. “You still have one initiation left, so until then I’ll make sure you’re healed.”

“And then a date after that initiation.” You added, making him smile and nod.

Toni and Fangs gaped at your conversation. “Hold on! You’re going on a date?” Fangs asked. You and Sweet Pea didn't answer him, just looked at each other and grinned. That was an enough answer for them.

“Finally! Took you two so long.” Toni grinned teasingly, causing you and Sweet Pea to roll your eyes.

Your father entered with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him have, holding a new serpent jacket as he approached you with open arms. “(Y/n), son, you made it!” He hugged you tightly and you hugged back, feeling safe and secure in his arms. He pulled away to give you the leather jacket and you took it, wearing it and smiling proudly at yourself.

Everyone cheered and congratulated you, including Jughead’s father FP Jones. “(Y/n), congratulations!” He gave you a short hug, to which you returned.

Despite what his son did, you never blamed FP and became friends with him. You didn’t take your anger towards Jughead on him simply because it wasn’t his fault. He’s just Jughead’s father. You like him as a person and as your older friend, what Jughead did doesn’t matter anymore.

“How does it feel to be an official member of the serpents?”

“Amazing.” You answered with a big smile.

FP smiles and nods his head, but then frowned after remembering his son. You told him about what happened between you and Jughead, he felt sorry for what his son did to you. He just feels glad that you seem fine now. “Uh... (Y/n), you want me to tell Jug about you joining the serpents?”

The mention of Jughead’s name no longer affected you, and FP showed a small smile when he noticed you didn’t even flinch at the sound of his name. “No, he doesn’t need to know. It’s not his business.” You replied.

FP nods and was about to walk away when Sweet Pea appeared behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “Babe, can’t you just skip the last initiation? We could just go to our date.” Sweet Pea whined.

You chuckle, “No can do, Sweets. I have to finish the entire initiation.” You turned around to face him while he still hugged you. “Can you wait for a little bit longer?” You asked while grabbing his face, but he went past your hands and nuzzled his face on your neck.

“I’ll try.” He managed to tell you, his voice muffled. You giggle and pet his hair, to which he whined approvingly.

FP blinked at the sight of them, shocked at the way they act. He always felt there was something between you and Sweet Pea since you two did a lot of PDA sometimes, but this was new since you always only held hands or hugged. FP turned to (F/n) quizzically as Toni and Fangs giggled at his reaction. “Oh, apparently, they’re together.” (F/n) said with a shrug, no longer bothered that his son is being touched by Sweet Pea.

“Since when?” FP asked.

“Before the Initiation.” You and Sweet Pea answered simultaneously without looking at him. FP gaped which caused Toni and Fangs to burst into laughter, holding their stomach as tears appears on their eyes from laughing too hard.

After a while, FP got over the shock and smiled. “Glad to know you moved on, (Y/n). You don’t deserve all the pain my son caused you.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t deserve my precious baby.” Sweet Pea stated possessively.

(F/n) whisled, “Possessive much of my boy, Pea?” That caused a laughter to erupt in the Whyte Wyrm, making Sweet Pea grumble and tighten his hold around you.

You smiled happily; at first, you wanted to end your miserable life to get an eternal peace. Your life only consisted of heart break and pain that you thought you were beyond saving. But Sweet Pea showed up and everything became better. He gave you a new life, a much more better life that you’ll always be thankful for. He did so much for you and you plan on doing the same thing.

“Sweet Pea?” You softly called, turning your head to look at him.

“Hmm?” He hummed with his eyes closed just enjoying your presence in his arms.

“Thank you. I love you.” Sweet Pea opened his eyes at that, a grin taking over his lips as his eyes sparkled in joy. If it’s possible, he would ask you to tell him that three words everyday.

“I love you too, (Y/n).” He replied, giving you a kiss.

Toni made a face, “Get a room!”

Okay, so going to school wearing your own Serpent jacket probably wasn’t the greatest idea. Wherever you go, everyone stared at you and giving you dirty looks, as if you’ve done the most shittiest thing. You could only careless though.

“Hey, guys.” You greeted the corefour plus Kevin after entering the student lounge and dropped on the couch, beside Veronica. They gaped at the sight of your jacket, emotions swirling in their eyes. You swore you could see a disgusted look in Betty and Jughead’s faces, but all you needed was Veronica, Archie and Kevin’s reactions.

“Oh my god.” Veronica breathes out and pushes your shoulder gently to look at the logo on your back. “Whose jacket is this? Is this yours?” She asked, but there was no hint of distaste in her tone.

“Yeah, I just joined them yesterday.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Archie raised his brows, “Is that why you have some injury on your face?”

“Yep.” You replied. Their reaction was totally amusing, except for Betty and Jughead’s. They look at you like you’re the most disgusting person in the world. Eh, not my problem. You thought as you pulled out your phone.

Someone snatched your phone and you looked up to see Jughead standing, glaring at you. “So this was why you’ve been avoiding and ignoring us. Because you were planning on joining that gang.” He spat in anger. Betty stood beside him with a glare as well.

You just raised your brows at him, uninterested in whatever drama he’s trying to cause. “What the hell, (Y/n)!? Have you lost your mind? That gang doesn’t do anything right! They’re drug dealers, vicious people, living with violence!” He continued. The way he described them struck a core to you, something in the way he called them made something inside you snap.

You were up on your feet in an instant, gripping his collar and glaring at him dangerously. A gasp came from Veronica and Betty, but you ignored them and tightened your grip even more on Jughead’s collar. “Listen here, Jones. You don’t know anything about them and you have no right to judge what they do for living. They’re people — an actual, decent people who cares for a stranger. Not a drug dealer, not a violence freak, they’re humans. And say one more fucking thing about them, I won’t hesitate to give you what you deserve.” You threatened while showing your fist.

“(Y/n)... Jug probably deserves it, but slow down.” Archie says from behind you, confusing Jughead as he looked at Archie then back at you.

Hearing the ginger’s words, you reluctantly let go of Jughead’s collar with a glare still plastered on your eyes. “You know nothing, Jones. You don’t even know anything about what happened to me this past few weeks.” You spat. Hatred completely plastered your face as you moved your glare towards Betty, who flinched in surprise at how scary and intimidating you looked. The disgusted expression no longer visible on her face.

Jughead frowns, “What are you talking about?”

“See? You know nothing.” You said mockingly. “That day you informed me you and Cooper started dating was the day I was planning to die.” You admitted and they looked at you in shock, mouth opening slightly. “My mother always abused me, physically and mentally. Hell, even emotionally. And every time I tried to tell you, you ignored me and shrugged my problems off because it wasn’t ‘important’ to you. Cooper has always been your first priority, wasn’t she? That’s why you chose to abandon me when I needed you the most. I needed your help, but you ignored everything and went on and on about this girl.”

Jughead opened his mouth to come up with an excuse, but you quickly shut it down. “No excuse would be enough to explain what you did. Now, I’m just giving you the taste of your own medicine. I don’t want to see your face ever again because every time I do, I get the flashbacks of what happened. You were with a girl having the time of your life while I was suffering at the hands of my mother.” You glared at the couple with disgust. “I’m in disbelief that you even consider me as a friend, because I don’t anymore.”

The harshness of your words seemed to wake up something in Jughead as his breath trembled, feeling his eyes burn as tears starts to gather. “What- how would that explain why you joined them?” He stuttered, the disgusted look in your face making him lose any hope.

“They saved me from all the misery.” You felt a single tear roll down your cheek. “They gave me a home. I was able to start over because they were with me every step of the way. They taught me the importance of my life and loved me, cared for me more than anyone ever did. More than you did, more than my mother did. I joined them because they’re my home, and to prove that I don’t need you.” You stated coldly.

Somehow, for some reason, everyone heard Jughead’s heart breaking. The devastation on his face was enough for them to know he cared about you all along, but didn’t do enough to show it. Painful thing, though, is that you don’t care for him anymore. Your cold words and gaze told them you really had enough of him.

Veronica stands up and places her hand on your back. “(Y/n), come on. Let’s go. He’s not worth it.”

You stayed silent for a second before replying, “You’re right. They’re not worth it. He didn’t need me in his life — obviously I don’t need him in my life too. Just wanted him to know that.” You said calmly and walked away together with Veronica, leaving the others alone.

“You didn’t tell him about the heartbreak he caused you.” Veronica stated once you two were out of the lounge.

You scoffed, “He doesn’t need to know. Besides, my heartbreak doesn’t matter anymore.” Curiosity sparked in Veronica as you said that with small smile on your lips.

“Ohh.” She smirks, “Who’s the guy?” She asked teasingly which made you laugh. Veronica never failed to be your friend — she’s accepting and kind, sometimes a bitch, but that’s who she is. You’re sure she’ll always be your friend.

“He’s the one who found me contemplating my life.” You smiled at the memory. “He looks tough and scary, but he’s such a sweetheart. Cares for me the most, treats me right and gives me the love he claims I deserve.” Your face softens as you tell her about Sweet Pea, like you weren’t angry just a few moments ago.

Veronica stared at you as you talked; she could see the change. Your eyes spark more now and had a life of joy, even happiness. It had enough light. Your face seems a lot brighter and happier, no sign of heartbreak in sight. You looked as if you didn’t go through that extreme heartbreak and misery while living with your mother. You look healthier and more joyful, your smile now reached your eyes. She felt relieved — the Serpents seems to be the ones who changed you for the better and she couldn’t be more happier. They may be a gang, but she knew they’re good people.

“You seem a lot happier now, (Y/n).” She said, smiling softly.

A smile appeared on your face. “I am, Roni. I really am. No lies, no hiding, genuinely.”

“It feels as if the heartbreak didn’t happen.” She comments and you chuckled in agreement. “I’m glad he’s treating you right. You have a new life now, I’m a little sad that you might forget about me, Kevin and Archie.” She jokes.

You frowned, “Hey. I’ll never forget any of you. That’s a promise.” You held out your pinky finger and she chuckled, intertwining it with her pinky finger as well to promise. Your phone dings as Sweet Pea’s name appeared on the screen with a text; ‘I will pick you up today. Don’t go anywhere.’

Veronica peeked, seeing what was written and smirked. “Oooh, that’s the dream boy.” You laughed with her and nodded, agreeing.

There’s no need in telling Jughead you already have a new love, or prove to him that you’re better without him. He’s gonna know that either way. Maybe sooner than later, but you don’t care about that as long as he wouldn’t get in between you and Sweet Pea. Now that you found a new genuine and real love, there’s no way you’ll let anyone tear you two apart.

“(Y/n)—”

“Stop it, Jones!” You shoved Jughead away as soon as his hand grabbed your arm after the school ended and glared at him. “I told you, I don’t want to do anything with you. Why is it hard for you to understand?”

“I want to make it up to you!” Jughead made a move again to touch you, but you quickly smacked his hands away.

“You can’t when I don’t want you to.” You spat and walked away, only for him to grab your arm again stronger this time. The other corefours and Kevin yelled for Jughead to just let you go, but he doesn’t listen.

Just as when you were about to punch him in the face, someone pulled you away from him and felt a warmth on your back. “Get the fuck away from him!” Sweet Pea shouted angrily at Jughead, embracing you with one arm and pointing at him.

People around the school whispered and gossiped to each other as Sweet Pea continued to glare at Jughead, while you start relaxing in his arms. “Sweet Pea,” They were surprised at the softness in your voice. “Let’s just go, he’s not worth it. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Baby, he was touching you without your consent.” Sweet Pea clenched his jaw, still glaring at Jughead.

A look of surprise flashed across their face, except for Veronica who already knew about Sweet Pea. You glanced at the beanie-wearing boy and shook your head, gently grabbing your boyfriend’s hand. “It’s okay. You came. If something happened, dad’s gonna take care of him.” You softly say, rubbing circles on his hand with your thumb.

Sweet Pea looks at you and his eyes immediately softened, looking down at your intertwined hands, then looking up at you before back at Jughead. “You touch him again and I’ll break your face.” He threatened and pulled you with him towards a car, Fangs and Tony inside of it.

After getting into the passenger seat, you waved at Veronica, Archie and Kevin to say goodbye as Sweet Pea pulled off of the parking lot.

“That’s him? Your ex best friend?” Toni asked as she pointed outside at Jughead, while Fangs stared at the boy. You nodded with a tired sigh, having enough of dealing with that ex best friend for today. “Yikes, Sweets is much better than him.” She grimaced and earned a laughter from Fangs.

“Much, much better.” You agreed and looked over at Sweet Pea, who also looked back at you before pecking you on the lips quickly. Grinning widely, you intertwined his hand with yours as he drove the car towards the Northside.

Entering the bar, you quickly made your way towards (F/n) and pulled him in a hug to which surprised him, but hugged back nonetheless. “What’s wrong, prince?” His gentle voice asked, stroking your back. You just shook your head and continued hugging him to let him know you appreciated everything about this new life.

“What happened, Sweet Pea?” Your father asked Sweet Pea next, who came in with Toni and Fangs after you rushed towards him.

The tall serpent sighs, “That Jones boy was bothering him in school. He was really annoyed.”

“Is that true, (Y/n)?” (F/n) pulled away from you to ask and you nodded your head. “Yeah, but I’m okay, dad. I know you’d kick his ass if he annoyed me more than he already did.” You joked, earning a chuckle from him.

After that, you pulled Sweet Pea to the side to have a talk with him. “Pea, thank you for everything. Really. And I want you to know that I’m not going away.”

That made him grin widely, pulling you in a hug as he nuzzled his face in your neck. “You don’t have to thank me, (Y/n). I’m not letting you go now that I have you.” You smiled, hugging him back and closing your eyes as you enjoyed his scent.

This is your new life; happier, brighter, lovelier new life that you’d do anything to keep. You’re happy and content now — there’s nothing else you would ask for. Everything you went through was painful, but perhaps it was just a step to your happiness and you felt glad that you managed to endure it.

Having Sweet Pea with you is enough — no heartbreak, no suffering, no sadness. Just love, happiness and contentment.

447 notes · View notes