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headkiss · 2 years

Text

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

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The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

༄

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ch-4-eri · 7 months

Text

LOVE POTIONS — Jill Valentine.

best friend’s mom! jill X female reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni!! age gap (don’t say i didn’t warn you) oral, dirty talk, hints at the reader being a virgin if you squint. i don’t know if i’m missing anything let me know.

word count: 1.4k

i’m so sick for this, i’ll go to hell on my own, don’t fuck your friend’s mothers guys. but do enjoy this.

you couldn’t explain it, even if you wanted, the whole thing was messy from the beginning.

it was supposed to be something innocent, completely harmless and has no threat to anyone in your life or yourself.

or your best friend.

if only you never met his mother, Jill Valentine, government agent, and a former RPD S.T.A.R.S member.

but god, you didn’t think it through.

didn’t think your attitude and the way you looked at the woman were entirely calculated, jill knew.

this woman has a love for details and reading you, every time you came over; what you’d say and what’d you do, what you’re wearing.

she’d show you she’s busy, working documents and important things for the BSAA, jill to you was just a best friend’s mother.

but you both had one hell of an unspoken sexual tension.

which you tried to hide, tried to shove in the back of your mind as your age gap is fucking nuts and you always worry someone would read your mind which isn’t even a realistic idea, but still, you were too anxious to act on it, even alone, self awareness preventing you from being able to stay in your head for long.

but jill on the other hand… when every time she analysed you, how you talk, how you act, your ass in your tiny skirts drives her fucking crazy enough she finds herself unable to sleep, her hand inside her shorts as she’s pumping herself up at the thought of you with her hand covering her mouth.

surely she felt ashamed, a woman her age acting and thinking like this, she felt so much guilt and shame for operating like a damn teenage boy riling with hormones over a girls ass in a skirt.

a girl her son’s age.

she knew if he ever found her out, he’d hate her forever and she can’t afford losing him, not after fighting for his custody for many years with her ex husband.

but that’s not what she had in mind that day, when she had you splayed down her bed so late at night, her fingers in your mouth as she ate you out like no tomorrow, your legs on her shoulders, your moans muffled by her thick fingers pressing down your tongue, drooling all over them.

“taste’s so good..” jill groaned against your clit, her mouth engulfing you, sending your back arching, she pulls away and sits up, making you ache at the loss of contact and the warmth you felt between your legs.

jill removed her fingers from your mouth, wiping your saliva off them down her bedsheets, going on her knees to meet your eyes as you were so lost in the feeling of pleasure you never got from anyone else other than this woman, a woman you shouldn’t even be doing this with.

but neither of you were even thinking of that right now.

jill had your chin in her palm as you opened your eyes, your breathing shaky and heavy, drool covering your chin as you smelled like sex and vanilla to the older woman’s nostrils.

“i want you to sit on my face, yeah? can you do that for me?” jill smirked, licking her lips with the tongue you want to be inside you again so badly.

you nodded eagerly, the thought of having her mouth against your pussy again was driving you mad with chills coursing through your body. “mhm.. yes please.” you begged, your eyes staring into hers pleadingly, like a lost puppy. fucked up enough.

jill patted your legs, lying down on the mattress of her huge bed, she wasn’t wearing anything other than her lacey bra and underwear, she was a fucking sight, you’d drool on her looks alone. even for a woman her age, she was damn delicious and you couldn’t get your eyes off her as you went on your knees and crawled to her.

she prepared the seat that was her face you were going to be sitting on for the next many minutes, hopefully hours if it were up to the older woman. moving her short brown hair away from her blue eyes you’d drown in.

as you made it closer to her, you were a bit nervous, a question rolling around your head you had to make sure of, you had to ask, as silly as it made you sound to a woman with so much experience.

“do i sit or hover?” you asked, your voice betraying you, your cheeks rosy and lips red and swollen.

jill chuckled, like she was making fun of you. “sit.” she demands. “i want you to suffocate me.” jill added, taking a hold of your thigh as she brought you closer with her strong grip.

“i want you to cum in my mouth.. am i clear, sweet girl?” she demanded as soon as you gasped, raising an eyebrow at your hesitation.

“y-yes..” you nodded like the puppy you are, you weren’t going to upset her, you hated to refuse jill.

and jill hated it when you refused her.

you finally scooted up to jill’s head, placing a knee next to her head, the other doing the same as you lowered your body so your wet pussy made contact with her nose, both of you let out a sigh while jill’s hands positioned you properly on her face, and as soon as you felt her tongue lick a long stripe up your sopping wet hole you let out a sickeningly pornographic moan, your hands grabbing at the headboard of her bed.

“ah.. jill..” you breathed, your thighs squeezing the older woman’s head, her tongue sucking and licking at your hole as she made it her sole purpose for you to cum in her mouth and if she keeps this up you’re gonna do it more than once, not that jill would complain.

her strong hands gripped your ass so tight, her tongue brutally slamming inside of you, as was her nose, sliding it up and down which drew pathetic moans out of you.

jill was humming, groaning into you, making your legs shake and your thighs closing in on her, and you were worried you were hurting her even though jill was having a fucking blast, she adored those damn thighs, if she suffocateds and dies like this it’ll all be worth it.

“please.. can’t take this anymore.” you cried out, making jill just suck at your clit like a starved woman, her body humming and shivering as she was desperate to get touched as well, rubbing her thighs together while her hands reached your hips in a bruising grip.

you were shuddering and whimpering, your legs so weak as you didn’t want to put your full weight on the woman’s face. “jill..” you moaned as she flicked her tongue against your sopping walls, your thighs filled with goosebumps.

“i’m..” you start, your lower belly so tight with a burning sensation that you were so close to your release, jill positioned you right into her mouth as she knew you were close, drinking you up as you finally gushed your orgasm down her mouth like she wanted.

“mmm..” jill mumbled, swallowing every last bit of what you can give her, you tasted like heaven, fucking delicious.

you were trying to catch your breath, your heart hammering against your rib cage as jill patted your thigh.

you weakly pulled your knee away from her head, your legs were shaking like crazy, your center so sensitive and puffy.

“i bet you can’t walk now, huh?” jill joked, sitting up on her elbows, her cheeks red from the heat of being between your thighs for as long as she just was, her nose and her lips shiny and sticky from your release and you were so sick for thinking she looked so darn good with your cum on her face.

you gulped, heat rushing into your cheeks at her words. “just a little sore.” you mumbled shyly, like you weren’t just seated on her face.

“a little sore hm? come here for me..” jill gestured for you to come closer to her. “you think you can just rest without returning the favour?”

jill smirked and brushed your hair away from your face, brushing two fingers against your hardened nipples.

“i know you can’t handle me sitting on your face… i’m afraid i’d break you entirely… but you have fingers don’t you?”

she says in a suggestive tone, grabbing your nipple into her mouth, your eyes closing at the sensation, your hands going into her hair as a moan escaped you.

jill took your hand and brought it near her panties.

then she pulled away with a pop, her blue eyes staring into yours so intensely. “now be a good girl and touch me.”

oh boy you’re screwed.

#jill valentine x female reader #jill valentine x you #jill valentine x reader #jill valentine smut #jill valentine #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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grapejuicebrat · 19 days

Text

"I love you, i’m sorry”

PAIRING: rafe cameron x reader

SYNOPSIS: could you love me at my worst?

SUMMARY: part 2 of “i miss you i’m sorry”. basically it’s a story about rafe trying to be better just for you. even tho you broke up a few months ago.

WARNINGS: heave angst, mention of addictions, swearing, a happy ending i guess, some smut like you touching each other, grinding and kissing.

NOTES: rafe is such a babygirl again!

my masterlist

“I love you, i’m sorry”

“We’ve been here before, Rafe. You promised me”.

“I know, and uh, I’m sorry, okay? I just can’t do this”

“I know. But you promised me something”

“Alright, yeah. Sure. Well, tell me something about you.”

“You have something specific in your mind?”

“How is your job?”

“I proved to kooks that a dirty pogue can be so much more than just a piece of shit. I’m not a waitress anymore, I’m the manager now. Fuck, i’m so excited for this”.

Rafe can tell you are smiling right now. So he is. He is really proud of you because you really deserve this. You’ve worked for this days and nights, telling Rafe almost every day about how your work is so stressful. But you love your work and you love people. This job was made for you.

“You’ll never be a dirty pogue, baby. You deserve this. I’m so happy for you”.

“Baby?”

“Shit, i’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Well, no, I mean it, I just, uh… I forgot that you’re no more, um-m, my you know. You’re not my baby anymore”

Saying it out loud was so much harder than just thinking about your break up. Sometimes Rafe would even forget about this. But then he remembered and realisation cuts deeper than a knife could.

“Chill, Rafe. Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I still have a habit calling you in the middle of the night when i can’t fall asleep”

“You do know that you can call me wherever you feel like you need me?”

“Sorry, Rafe I gotta go. Bye”

You quickly hang up not even waiting for Rafe to say goodbye.

And then Rafe got a feeling that you’ll never need him again.

“Everything in this house belong to you. Even this fucking pillow belongs to you. That’s why Rafe secretly loves to hug this thing in the middle of the night. Part of him still remembers how Rafe used to hold you through the night, protecting from everything.

Sometimes Rafe would think that this is scary. How easily he would give up on anything just to be with you again. He refused doing drugs again, trying to be better. Rafe still tries to help his dad with business and he is doing his best not to mess up everything. Again.

This is scary how easily Rafe would choose you over his family. Because you were always here instead of his family who refused to believe in him. You were here when he wanted to give up on everything. He opened his rest to you and you were so grateful for this. Rafe could tell it just by the look in your eyes. Your eyes were shining with love and stars.

And that’s what Rafe dreams about. Just to see you smile once again. To hear you laughing and complaining about his mean jokes. To see those beautiful doe eyes. shining just for him.

How bad Rafe wanted to go to the restaurant you’re working in, but god knows it’s damn hard to realise that you’re doing just fine without him. You want to move on and it’s not your fault that he can’t do this without you. Of course he wants nothing more than just to hold you like he used to. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to fuck your life up just like he fucked up his own life.

Rafe can’t completely give up on you, because in the back of his mind he still believes you’ll get your second chance to do it all over again.

“Hey, u-uh, god it is so damn hard not to call you baby again” Rafe nervously laughs, holding his phone with shaky hands. “Do you think you’ll have five minutes after you’re done with work? I need to tell you something”.

It was an hour ago and you still didn’t reply. Of course you are a busy girl and you don’t have time for this crybaby but fuck, Rafe could swear on his life that it is so damn hard not to check his phone every five minutes in case you replied to his voice message.

“Sorry, didn’t have time to check my phone. Sure thing we can catch up. Are you in trouble?”

“No-no, don’t worry. Just want to tell you something, but I don’t want to just send you a message, you know?”

“Yeah, I understand. See you then”.

“Yeah, see ya”

Seeing you again was a biggest mistake Rafe have ever made. Your eyes were shining with happiness and your smile made Rafe remember why in the first place he fell in love with you.

Your smile.

The way your smile still makes Rafe smile back. The way your laugh makes his stomach do backflips when Rafe speaks to you. You’re the first thing Rafe thought about in the morning.

“Thank you for reminding what butterflies feel like” Rafe suddenly says, hugging you tightly. Feeling your skin under his fingertips was like some new kind of drug. Rafe couldn’t even describe how bad he missed feeling your soft body in his strong arms. He can’t even describe how bad he wants to kiss a top of your head now like he used to. It’s not like he has any right to do it though.

“I missed you, Rafe” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his waist. As long as you can remember, from the very beginning, you were literally obsessed with your height difference. Rafe is so much taller than you, so you could hug Rafe and literally get into his body. Rafe brings you so much comfort just by his presence. Yeah, he still does. Even if you’re the one who broke things up, you still missed him. You still have this stupid habit telling “I love you” to the photo of you and Rafe, hanging on the wall next to your bed.

And you still don’t want to change this habit. That would mean that your relationship is fully gone and you have to let Rafe go. To let him move on, because he deserves this. And no matter how selfishly this sounds, you didn’t want him to move on without you.

“Y/n” Rafe whispers, still not letting you go.

“Yeah?” you speak into his chest, trying not to break into tears.

“You know, this break up made me realise that uh-uh, that.. that i can’t do this without you. When I first met you, I honestly didn’t know you were gonna be this important to me. But somehow I fall in love with you and I can’t forget about you, about us. There are a lot of things we used to do together and I can’t stop doing them because it would mean the end. And call me selfish, baby, but you made me a better person. I quit drugs, I work with my dad. You know, a year ago I would say that you don’t even need a job but now I understand that it’s your life. Your decision. You love your work and I have no right to tell you what to do. The only thing that matters to me is you. Please, baby, come back to me. Give me a second chance. Please.”

You were listening to Rafe and still, you lost your ability to speak for a good minute. He really did change, like he promised. But still he is your Rafe. The same boy, you fall in love with when he hated all pogues but you. Meeting you changed his vision. Meeting Rafe changed your life and turned it upside down.

And honestly, you didn’t want to change your life again.

“God, I fucking love you, Rafe”

And you grab his face, finally smashing your lips against his. Even if he wanted this to be so delicate and sweet, you made this kiss feel like a hungry, animalistic kind of one. You grabbed each other by neck and arms, not wanting each other to let go. Your hands made their way to his buzz cut and god you missed feeling this sharp feeling under your fingertips.

His hot tongue is dancing with yours, exploring your mouth and teeth. You moan into his mouth, already feeling a little wetness in your panties. Sometimes you hate how easily Rafe can make you beg for his cock, or fingers, or mouth but now… you were fucking thankful for this.

Your hands slide under his t-shirt, exploring his chest like you’ve never this before. His veiny hands grab your ass with such passion and you feel like you can come even right fucking now.

In the twilight room your fingers caressed each other's skin as if afraid a heavier touch would break the heady magic. You became one, one mind with one goal and purpose, each utterly drunk with love for the other.

Rafe's finger tips are electric, they must be, for wherever they touch your skin tingles in a frenzy of static. As his hands move over your skin your body has a transitory paralysis, your mind unable to process the pleasure so fast. His head moves around to your left ear and he whispers what's coming next. Suddenly your body is off pause-mode and you pull back for a kiss that's both soft and hard. Both of you move in an intoxicated dance of limbs, never making the exact same moves twice, not in the decade yo’ve been lovers. He's your cat-nip, you are his whiskey on ice.

“I missed your body, baby. Fuck, I fucking missed you.” Rafe whispers, starting to kiss your neck and collarbone, gently massaging your boobs. You tried to grab his neck or hug his back with your hands and it feels like you are genuinely scared of loosing him again. Your legs wrap around his thighs, bringing Rafe close to you.

“I love the way your breathing changes as soon as I touch your body”

Rafe grins and smashes his lips against yours in a loving kiss.

“I waited for you my entire life and you were worth every minute”

basically this is the end. hope you liked it!

TAG LIST: @maybankslover

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #dark rafe cameron

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bloody-night · 1 month

Text

Blabber mouth

hawks/keigo takami x male reader

you just needed to shut a bird’s squaking

nsfw

Everyday it’s the same working with the number two pro hero, scouting together and checking that everything’s okay and not suspicious.

However, he’s been getting so much more annoying, or maybe that’s just been you, because he’s always on you. Talking to you about his day and what he ate and what he did in specific detail.

You groaned each time he did talk about practically everything he did in the last hour. As you both were walking down the busy yet slightly empty streets. It was dark out, and you both were pretty relaxed that it was finally night out, that is until some bird decided to start speaking.

“It’s pretty cold out, reminds me of a day during Christmas, it was pretty fun.” He continued on, looking around as he flew beside you. You huffed in annoyance as you continued walking the path, being a bit farther from the main city.

“Man, I wonder where villains might be during this time of night.” He questioned, tapping his chin, lip slightly pouted. “Maybe sleeping in silent peace.” You responded dryly. “I wish that was us.” Keigo sighed loudly, dragging his body as he flew a few feet off the ground. “Yea… I wish.” You mumbled. Hawks sighed silently, finally quieting down. You smiled softly, enjoying the silence.

Until…

“Don’t you ever shut up??” You yelled at the blonde, pinning the male at a wall in a nearby alley. “C-chill man! I’m just trying to make convo with you. I didn’t mean to get your undies in a twist.” He joked, a nervous smirk on his face. You groaned in annoyance before getting an idea.

“Maybe if you do me a favor we could be friends.” You joked, before seeing the bird perk up. “Yea? Then you won’t mind my rambling? Sweet! What is it?” He asked, genuinely curious. You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Put that pretty mouth to use eh?” You simply said, seeing how Keigo’s eyes widened surprisingly.

The sounds of choking and stifled grunts could be heard down the dark alley, though thankfully there wasn’t that many people around. You grunted lowly. “See? Using that mouth of yours is better than s-speaking your mind.” You slightly stuttered, face fucking Hawk’s poor throat. His piercing golden eyes looked up at you, his cheeks and tips of ears flushed with pink.

You held his head in place, hands gripping his hair, earning a whimper from him.

“Your mouth is so hot, it’s addicting.” You whispered, huffing as you continued thrusting your hips in his warm throat. Hawks felt the way your thick cock entered his throat with ease, sometimes making him choke when you would poke his throat by accident.

His knees slightly shook as they supported his body, gloved hands held your thighs, feeling how he squeezed them. His own cock twitching with eagerness. He loved this, the way you used his throat for your own needs. Who knew you’d fuck his brains out in a dark alleyway?

The thought of getting caught turned him on even more, his wings fluttering slightly. His glasses and headphones were off, wanting to see and hear everything you emitted out.

Your breathing, the way you stared down at him with such wanting and needing lust, the way you bit your lip as he knew you’d think about fucking him.

“I’m close baby bird, I’m close, keep using that mouth of yours with me, only me.” You spewed, earning a blush from yourself. It was embarrassing to say it out loud, but you were in such a trance it felt right at the moment. Hawks hummed, vibrating around your cock, before feeling you speed up, his eyes never leaving your gaze.

You grunted as you gave a couple more thrusts, before seeing Hawks’ wings spread in shock, seeing them tremble as he felt your thick cum travel down his throat.

You huffed as you hugged his head near your dick, hips twitching and stuttering, feeling Keigo’s hands grip your thighs as he started choking a bit.

He swallowed every once of cum, before feeling you pull out. “Damn Keigo… you’re good.” You panted, smirking as you saw Takami looks dazed out. You chuckled as you rubbed your tip around his lips, covering in pre cum before putting it away and zipping up your pants.

Hawks licked his lips, before standing up and fixing his attire, as well as placing on his glasses and headphones. “Does that mean I can keep talking?” He asked, smirking as he got close to you, his wing holding you close to him. “If you want me to keep using you, sure.” You dryly responded, before frowning as he opened his mouth again to spew.

#x top male reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #mha hawks #bnha hawks #hawks #hawks x reader #pro hero hawks #keigo takami #mha takami keigo #bnha keigo #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami x male reader

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duachai · 2 months

Text

G8MER BOI - JEON WONWOO

Super Smash Bros You So Ass Though Proly Pick Kirby So You Don't Get Smashed On

PAIRING : JEON WONWOO X MALE READER

SYNOPSIS : M/n, a competitive gamer, is distracted by fellow gamer Wonwoo's charisma and flirtatious advances during a match. After the game, Wonwoo's commanding demeanor leaves M/n flustered and vulnerable. They share an intense, intimate encounter backstage, leading M/n to experience a whirlwind of emotions. Overwhelmed by Wonwoo's touch and words, M/n feels a deep connection forming, hinting at a promising new chapter in his life.

CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains explicit sexual content and mature themes.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I know nothing about E-sports, but I tried my best 😭

LINKS : Wattpad | Kofi

M/n had never been so nervous going ANYWHERE before today. This was the day he could make history and he carried an insane amount of weight on his shoulders as he walked through those arena doors. Even in a room full of people he still found himself zoned out and very unfocused while doing a fan sign.

He felt someone staring at him, his eyes slowly looking up from the table. A pair of eyes were staring at him, unbreaking eye contact. It sent chills down his spine. He was always a bit reserved during these events and always kept his head down so as to not engage with many people. He didn't like a lot of interaction anyway so this set-up worked for him fairly well.

Except with this particular person.

He knew this guy. This guy... he was a legend. But not one of those old crinkly ones that don't really do their fortay anymore.

He was Jeon Wonwoo.

He slowly lifted his sharpie off the desk, eyes still locked with the other male. He was just so intense. It's like he's trying to burn a hole into my brain. He thought. He tried to ignore the way his stomach churned beneath his button-up and continued signing the girl’s team T-shirt in front of him. She could sense M/n's attention was not on her at all.

M/n quickly tore his gaze from the other person and plastered on a smile for the girl in front of him. Come ON, stop staring! Just mind your own damn business! He cursed in his head, trying to focus back on the girl.

The girl in front of him tried to talk to him to which he desperately tried to answer, eyes darting to the side every so often only to see the man still staring at him. "Are you okay?", the girl asked, waving her hand in front of his face "You seem distracted."

"O-Oh, yeah. I'm sorry... um thank you for supporting us! I hope to see you in the arena later today.”

She nodded and moved away, making room for the next person. M/n took a small breather, closing his eyes for a moment. Ok M/n, pull yourself together. Just focus, do your job and then you can g- He glances up only to see Wonwoo sitting down in the seat in front of him. Ah, you've got to be kidding me...

The male in front of him sat back casually, resting his t-shirt right on the desk in front of him. M/n felt his heart speed up a bit. He glanced down quickly then back up to see Wonwoo grinning at him like he knew exactly what he was thinking.

It almost looked like he was teasing M/n and it ticked him off a bit. He was here to do his job and this guy was distracting him. "I guess it's my turn," Wonwoo spoke, his voice so sweet it almost made M/n shiver.

"U-Um, you don't need to get in line... you're like VIP."

The male laughed heartily. "VIP huh? I like the sound of that"

Jesus, he's even got a beautiful laugh M/n thought, trying to shake the idea away.

Wonwoo said generously, "But I'm no different than the other teams here. I just am a fan... I want a signed shirt from my favorite junior team.”

M/n let out a short laugh, trying to be casual about the whole thing. "Yeah right, like you can call yourself any team's fan when you're the main part of your team's success," he says. It came out a bit harsher than he intended but the confidence the man had was starting to irk him. "You're a legend, Jeon Wonwoo."

Wonwoo smirked and leaned in a little closer. "Say my name again" he says. M/n stared at him, dumbfounded. Say it again? Why the hell does he want me to say his name? What is his angle..

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and took a breath. "Wonwoo.." he said slowly.

The tension was cut by an intercom coming on. "Please everyone please gather in the area for the SVT and Fifty-Forty’s team matches.” M/n's head snapped up to the speaker above his head when the announcement went off. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him. Finally, now i'm out of this awkward position.

He looked back to Wonwoo only to find him still staring, that smug smile still plastered on his lips. He tried to glare at the man which only made him smile more. He felt his face get hot again. Damnit, why am I letting him get to me?

Wonwoo leaned even further forward and M/n could feel his breath on his cheek. He was so close M/n could count the individual eyelashes framing the other man's eyes. Damnit, Why is his face so close? What is he doing… Wonwoo spoke up, his voice low and sultry in his ear "Are you gonna sign me that shirt now?"

With a trembling hand M/n picked up his marker and signed the shirt. He tried to keep the letters straight but his hand was shaking like crazy and he felt like sweating buckets. How was this man making him so nervous? Why could he feel his heart pounding in his chest like this? It was insane...

He finished the signature and was about to set the shirt down when Wonwoo took hold of his wrist, stopping him from moving. M/n's heart nearly stopped. Wonwoo's hand was on his wrist, not to mention it was so large as well. His fingers were wrapping all the way around him, his long slender fingers completely covering his wrist.

He swallowed a lump that formed in his throat and made the mistake of looking up into Wonwoo's eyes. His eyes met the other man's intense stare and he couldn't look away. He felt like he might pass out if he did.

His mind was going a mile a minute, there was so much going on. Their faces were mere centimeters from each other and M/n felt like he would have a heart attack right there, and on top of all of that, he had never felt more... excited? for something in his entire life.

M/n swore he felt the thump of his heart skip a beat. "You're a lot cuter than I thought you'd be.." he said quietly. M/n's eyes widened and before he could reply the intercom came back on, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

"All teams to the main stage please, the match is beginning in a few minutes.”

Wonwoo's hand finally left his wrist and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He felt lightheaded like he might pass out at that very moment.

The man leaned back in his seat, picking up his signed shirt and smiling. "See you after the match," he said before he stood and headed for the stage. M/n could only watch as the man left, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. What was just happening? He thought I was cute? Why was he being so upfront? Why did he make me so nervous?

He needed to get himself together and quickly. There was a match about to happen and he needed to be focused. He looked over to the crowd and saw all the fans waiting. As much as he wanted to go back and hide in his room, he couldn't. Just do your best, and after you can freak out.

He took a deep breath and got up to join the rest of his teammates on the stage. The game began and M/n tried to focus on playing, which he usually had no problems doing. Except this time, he couldn't seem to find and kind of concentration.

Every time he would start to get into the game, his mind flashed back to Wonwoo's eyes. His words, his grip on his wrist, the way he made his heart stop...

He was so distracted, he was even making mistakes in-game, which was completely unlike him. Usually he was so precise and careful with his playing but today it was like he was just going through the motions. He was doing everything on auto-pilot.

Wonwoo was amazing. His hair, his perfect form, his talent, his lips, all of this just drove M/n absolutely insane. The game wasn't even on his mind. All he could think about was how he just had to have Jeon Wonwoo.

The game was over as quickly as it had begun. Wonwoo's team had crushed his, leaving him and his teammates with no chance to even compete. As the two teams made their way off the stage and into the hall, M/n felt a hand on his shoulder.

He felt that intense sense of nervousness fill him again as he slowly turned to come face to face with Wonwoo. M/n's heart nearly stopped when they stood face to face again. Every single thought he had from earlier came rushing back to him all at once, leaving him feeling vulnerable.

Wonwoo smirked down at him which made him feel even more flustered. Why did he keep doing that?!

"You guys put up a good fight, I'll give you that," he said, his hand still on M/n's shoulder.

M/n couldn't find a single word to say, he just stood there like a complete idiot as his brain malfunctioned. He didn't know what to say or do, he just stared at the man with his mouth slightly open.

Wonwoo chuckled lowly, which caused the hairs on the back of M/n's neck to stand up. Damnit, why is his laugh so attractive? Is he trying to drive me insane?

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, lifting a hand and running his thumb over M/n's bottom lip. M/n suddenly forgot how to breath. His hands started to shake and he swallowed down a lump in his throat. What does he think he's doing? Just.. touching my face like that. It's making me so.. His thoughts were cut off when Wonwoo began to speak again.

"You're cute when you're nervous, you know that? You get a little red too," Wonwoo said cooing as he swiped a slither of hair that fell on M/n’s forehead.

Jesus Christ, he's so handsome..

M/n tried and failed to keep control of his composure. Why does this man make me so nervous? I can't even form complete thoughts with him staring right at me.

He finally gathered the strength to speak, his voice quiet and shaky. "I'm... not nervous.."

Wonwoo laughed again with his perfect teeth showing. "You're not? You're shaking like a leaf right now." he said with a smirk. His hand came up again, this time cupping M/n's cheek in his warm palm. M/n felt his legs begin to get weak.

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?" he chuckles again before leaning down so his mouth was right next to M/n's ear.

M/n could feel his heart pounding against his chest as the other man's breath tickled his ear. "I can probably make you even more nervous,” he said, his low voice dripping with confidence.

M/n's mind seemed to be a complete jumble at this point. His thoughts were a complete mess and he felt like he might explode. The proximity of the other male's body was almost overwhelming, especially since he was so much taller than M/n himself.

He swore it felt like he was in a trance of some kind when Wonwoo spoke again, his breath warm on his ear. Wonwoo's warm hand shifted from his cheek to the nape of his neck, resting there and making shivers run up M/n's spine.

"You know.." he began, his tone was like silk. ".. I thought you were cute from just watching you play, but now I think you're even more adorable up close.”

M/n chuckled nervously, "U-Um... I should really catch up with my team. They're probably heading to the hotel... y'know. Tired and stuff.

Wonwoo's hand on his neck seemed to tighten a bit, keeping M/n from moving away. "Your team is going to be fine without you for a few minutes," he said, his tone a bit more demanding now.

M/n's breath hitched in his throat as the other man's grip pulled him a little closer. "O-Oh... kay, okay..."

M/n's head was spinning, the man was way too attractive for his own good.

Suddenly, Wonwoo's hand slid from his neck to his jaw, his long slender fingers wrapping around his chin and turning his head to the side. M/n didn't resist, he let him move him, his mind foggy from the closeness.

"You have really pretty eyes" he said lowly in his ear, his thumb brushing across M/n's bottom lip again.

M/n felt his heart flip and his breath shuddered again. He was trying so hard to keep what little composure he had left, but the other man was making it damn near impossible. His touch was driving him insane and he found himself unable to speak, his mind completely blank.

"They're brown... not very unique. Um, how about we move to another area... it's kinda hot h-here. Yeah?" M/n says in a slight pant. Wonwoo chuckled softly and leaned back slightly so he was hovering over M/n's face.

"Oh my god, you are so adorable when you're nervous," he said, his eyes raking up and down M/n's body as he spoke. M/n's stomach flipped at the look in the other man's eyes, Jesus, that stare is going to be the death of me he thought. "I have an idea," Wonwoo said as he grabbed M/n's wrist, his large hand wrapping all the way around him again.

A shiver ran down M/n's spine at the feeling.

With one quick move, he found himself being led down one of the backstage hallways into a secluded backroom. As soon as the door closed behind them, Wonwoo turned and pushed M/n up against the door, trapping him between his body and the hard surface.

M/n felt like he was going to have a heart attack. His heartbeat was so loud he swore Wonwoo could probably hear it. Wonwoo placed a hand on the wall on either side of M/n's head, effectively trapping him against the door.

He was so close M/n could feel the other man's breath on his face, it was warm and smelled faintly of cinnamon. Wonwoo was just staring again. Those brown eyes staring directly into his own, leaving him frozen in his spot.

His mind was swirling, his body was hot, why was this man having this effect on him? The other man smirked down at him, a wicked smile that made M/n's body shiver again. "You're so innocent, you know that?" he says, his eyes raking up and down M/n's body again.

This new side of Wonwoo was turning M/n on in ways he never thought possible. The intense gaze, the smirk, and the commanding tone, it was making his legs feel like jelly.

"M-Maybe I should get back to the group... I-" Wonwoo's hand on the wall moved to M/n's hip, resting there and grabbing it firmly through the material of his shirt. M/n felt a jolt of pleasure run through him. Jesus... that hand, it's so big

"I don’t want you to leave, sweetheart," he stated, his tone commanding. M/n was speechless. The nickname made his heart skip a beat and the hand on his hip made his legs even weaker. He was having a very hard time breathing at this point.

"O-Okay."

Wonwoo chuckled, the sound sending another shiver through M/n. "You're so easy to tease," he says as he leans closer to M/n.

His hand was still tight on his hip, his grip almost possessively tight. "Tease?" M/n asked almost in a whine. Another sultry chuckle escaped Wonwoo's lips as he leaned in even closer, his mouth now right next to M/n's ear.

"You heard me," he said, his warm breath sending more chills down M/n's spine. M/n's mind was a mess and his body a wreck, all from a simple hand on his hip. M/n began to lose his balance. Trying not to fall, his arms wrapped around Wonwoo's waist instinctively.

Wonwoo chuckled again, the sound so deep and smooth, it left M/n's mind feeling blank once more.

"You're a little clumsy, hm?" he asked, his tone almost mocking now.

M/n was trying desperately to keep his mind from completely shorting out, but the man's proximity and his voice was messing with his head.

"Oh.. sorry. Um, Wonwoo? I don't understand, why... why me? I-I'm not complaining I'm just... confused.”

This time a frown appeared on Wonwoo's face instead of his usual cocky smirk. He moved back from M/n's ear, looking down at him with an almost serious expression.

"Why you? I'll tell you why" he said, his gaze never leaving M/n's face. M/n's heart rate quickly began to pick up at the intensity in which the man was staring at him.

"You're cute, that's obvious.." he began, his eyes roaming over M/n's flushed face. "But on top of that... you're talented.. and I could tell when I was watching you earlier... that you're so damn hot when you're focused.”

M/n couldn't understand why this man was having this effect on him, why his words were making him feel weak and his body hot. And Wonwoo noticed. He could feel the rise in M/n's pants.

A smug smirk reappeared on the man's face, as he took notice of M/n’s predicament.

"Looks like I'm having an effect on you, hm?" he purred in M/n's ear again.

M/n 's face flustered with embarrassment, "I'm sorry! I-I don't know what's happening, I'm sorry.”

Wonwoo laughed lowly, his laugh doing absolutely nothing for M/n's already fried brain. "You don't have to apologize, I enjoy it," he said as he pulled M/n's hips forward, closing the distance between their bodies. M/n's eyes darted down to Wonwoo's lips. Wonwoo smirked again, the expression causing M/n's stomach to flip.

"You keep looking at my lips sweetheart, what are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice still low and smooth. "You're speechless a lot, you know that..?" he asks, his grip on M/n's hips tightening. "You're not saying anything because you're too busy thinking about my lips, I can tell," he said, a low chuckle escaping again. "You don't have to speak yourself then. I'll make you.”

And with that, he pressed his mouth to M/n's. M/n's mind suddenly went into overdrive, the soft pressure of Wonwoo's lips against his own sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

Wonwoo's mouth felt so warm and soft against his own. He couldn't get his mind to form a single thought, the only thing he could process at this point was the feeling of Wonwoo's lips moving against his. Wonwoo deepened the kiss, pulling M/n even closer by his hips.

The room was suddenly getting a lot hotter, the only thing that M/n could focus on was the man in front of him. The kiss was intense, and M/n was losing himself further and further with each passing moment.

His fingers found the way to the back of Wonwoo's shirt and clutched at the material tightly. Wonwoo let out a light moan as M/n gripped the fabric of his shirt, the sound sending yet another shiver of pleasure through him.

He continued to kiss him, his tongue slipping between M/n's lips and tasting every crevice of his mouth. Wonwoo suddenly bit down on M/n's bottom lip, causing him to gasp out a moan at the mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Jesus, the noises you're making are going to put me over the edge, you know that?" he says in a low, sultry tone. M/n's brain could barely process the words coming out of the man's mouth. "You're... you're driving me crazy," he managed to get out in a pant.

Wonwoo's hand inched up the underside of M/n's shirt, running his fingers along the bare skin of his stomach. M/n let out an involuntary noise at the feel of the man's fingers on his skin, his stomach felt like it was on fire wherever Wonwoo touched him.

Wonwoo began to trail his mouth down M/n's neck, peppering kisses lightly over his skin. M/n's head fell back against the door of the small room, a soft moan escaping his lips.

The feel of Wonwoo's lips on his neck sent a fresh wave of hot pleasure through M/n's body.

"God... you're so whiney, I love it," he says softly between kisses. Wonwoo continued to mouth at M/n's neck as his hands began to wander further up his shirt. M/n could feel his body burning up, every touch from the other man was making his brain malfunction. "You feel so good" Wonwoo whispered against his neck.

M/n took one of Wonwoo's hands down to his crotch, "Wonwoo please... help me.” M/n let out another moan, the man's touch was doing wonders on his body. "Just... touch me, please," he begs, his hands coming to rest on Wonwoo's hips.

Wonwoo quickly began to undo the buckle of M/n's pants, his fingers working quickly to get the material off of him. M/n let out a low moan, the anticipation driving him crazy.

"You're so cute... I need to see more of you," Wonwoo says lowly. Wonwoo's hands were roaming over his thighs. "God, you're perfect" he says as he squeezes the flesh of one of his legs, his eyes roaming over his exposed body.

"So damn pretty" he mutters under his breath as he begins to kiss down the skin of the thigh in his hand. Wonwoo continued to mouth at the skin of his thigh, he was making his way closer to the one place that M/n wanted him to be.

Each little bite and kiss was sending more jolts of pleasure through him, his body felt like it was on fire. "Please, please.. Woo...”

"Please what, gorgeous? You have to tell me what you want," Wonwoo says, his mouth mere inches from the hardness of M/n's lower body.

M/n could barely form a coherent sentence, his brain was mush at this point. "Your mouth.. I need your mouth," he says in a pant, his hands tightening around the material of Wonwoo's shirt.

Wonwoo hummed against his thigh in response to his words. "Beg me, baby. Tell me how much you need me," he said lowly, his breath ghosting over the flesh of M/n's inner leg.

"Please, please Woo I need you. I need your mouth, I need your hands, I need you. Please." M/n was practically pleading now, the anticipation was killing him.

Wonwoo hummed again, satisfaction in his voice. "Such a polite little thing... can't say no to that now can I?" he said as he leaned forward in between M/n's thighs.

He wanted to see how much more he could break him down.

"You're being such a good boy for me, I'm going to make you feel so good, you hear me? You're going to feel so good, all because of me"

"Yes... please. Only you make me feel this way," M/n manages to pant out, he wanted the man's mouth so bad his body was aching for it.

"Mmhm, no one else but me can make you feel this good, and no one else ever will," Wonwoo says lowly as he continues to mouth across the inside of his thighs. M/n was already a mess, his breathing was uneven and his skin was hot.

"I'm going to have you begging for more, I'm going to have you screaming my name," he says in a murmur against the flesh of M/n's skin.

Wonwoo continued his ministrations to the flesh of his thighs, marking the soft skin with his mouth and teeth. He was purposely avoiding the one place M/n wanted him most, he wanted to hear him beg for it.

"You're already a mess and I've hardly touched you. You really are desperate, aren't you baby?" he said in a low tone. "My Good boy," Wonwoo says with a smirk.

Without any warning, he suddenly sank down to his knees, his face now level with M/n's hardness. M/n let out a low moan, finally giving in to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

Wonwoo's hands slid up M/n's thighs, his touch firm yet gentle, sending shivers up his spine. He looked up at M/n with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and without breaking eye contact, he pressed a kiss against the fabric covering M/n's arousal.

M/n's breath hitched, his hands instinctively reaching to tangle in Wonwoo's hair. The other man smirked, his fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper of M/n's pants. With deliberate slowness, he pulled down the material, freeing M/n's hardness from its confines.

Wonwoo's warm breath ghosted over M/n's exposed skin, causing him to shudder with anticipation. He placed a series of teasing kisses along M/n's length, each one sending jolts of pleasure through his body.

"Wonwoo... please," M/n murmured, his voice barely a whisper, filled with need.

Wonwoo chuckled softly, the vibrations of his laughter adding to M/n's pleasure. "Impatient, aren't we?" he teased, his lips brushing against M/n's tip.

Unable to take any more of the teasing, M/n's hips involuntarily bucked forward, seeking more of Wonwoo's touch. Wonwoo finally took pity on him, wrapping his lips around M/n's hardness and taking him into his warm, wet mouth.

M/n gasped, his head falling back against the door as waves of pleasure crashed over him. Wonwoo's mouth worked expertly, his tongue swirling around M/n's tip before taking him deeper.

The sensations were almost too much to bear. M/n's fingers tightened in Wonwoo's hair, his hips moving in time with the other man's rhythm. Wonwoo's hands gripped M/n's thighs, holding him steady as he continued to pleasure him.

M/n felt the tension building in his core, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. "Wonwoo... I'm close," he managed to say, his voice strained with need.

In response, Wonwoo increased his pace, his mouth moving faster, taking M/n as deep as he could. The sight of Wonwoo on his knees, his lips wrapped around him, was enough to push M/n over the edge.

With a final, shuddering gasp, M/n came, his release spilling into Wonwoo's mouth. The other man swallowed greedily, his eyes never leaving M/n's face as he rode out his climax.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, M/n slumped against the door, his legs feeling like jelly. Wonwoo stood up, a satisfied smile on his lips as he wiped a stray drop from the corner of his mouth.

"You're even more adorable when you're completely undone," he said, his voice low and teasing.

M/n could only nod weakly, his mind still reeling from the intensity of the experience. Wonwoo leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to M/n's lips.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, his tone now gentle and caring. "We can't have you going back out there looking like this."

With Wonwoo's help, M/n managed to pull himself together, his body still tingling from the aftershocks of pleasure. As they made their way back to the main area, M/n couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of connection with Wonwoo.

The game may have been over, but for M/n, a new and exhilarating chapter had just begun.

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rosicheeks · 2 years

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🙃

#hahahahahahhahahahahahahahahhahaa #I’m fucking shaking #I hate people so much #mind your own damn business fuck #so I was chilling with my friend and we parked in a closed clinic #I’ve been parking there ever since I’ve moved #never had a problem #it’s right next to a hospice #tonight someone from the hospice parking looked over and saw our cars and decided to call the fucking cops cause they thought it was a drug #- deal #like I’m sorry #you’re visiting someone at a fucking HOSPICE #worry about them #worry about yourself #why the fuck are you worrying about someone parked in a closed clinic #I literally don’t know where to go and I’m just like sobbing in my car #I miss being able to smoke in my house #I miss having a place to myself #I miss having an art area #this move has been a lot harder than I thought it would be #ok sorry #I’m still shaking #breathe rosie #I’m fine #ignore me #shut up rosie

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herrscherofinsanity · 10 months

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Dating Advice with Jimin!

Summary: Being new to the dating world, Minjeong turns to her fellow members for advice.

Fluff? Crack?

Yu Jimin x 5th member!reader

Word count: 1.4k

_____________________

“Okay, watch this! I’ve totally got it this time!” Jimin exclaimed cheerfully, a goofy grin spread across her face.

You gave Jimin an encouraging smile, beside you, Aeri made sure to have her phone camera ready to record what would probably be the leader’s hundredth failed attempt.

Jimin, once again, threw a pretzel in the air and made a move to catch it with her mouth. You all sat there quietly, curious to see if she would really get it this time.

“Aw, damn…” Jimin groaned. The pretzel had landed on her right cheek and then proceeded to fall off onto the floor… joining the other pretzels that had been victims of the leader’s silly antics.

“Wow, Jimin, you truly suck”, Aeri deadpanned, making Ning let out the loudest laugh, it even pulled a giggle out of you, which you tried to cover up with a cough when the leader turned to glare at you.

“You’re laughing at me too, y/n?” Jimin pouted, “I thought at least you would be on my side”.

“I mean-”

“Unnie, y/n might be in love with you, but that doesn’t mean she’s blind”, Ning said with a laugh.

Aeri threw her head back, letting out what Jimin could only describe as an evil cackle, “Oh Ning, I’ve taught you well”.

“y/n…” Jimin whined, your girlfriend sent you a pleading look. You chuckled, walking over to where your girlfriend was sitting. Once you were close enough, you leaned in, placing a kiss right where the last pretzel had landed.

“Feeling better?” you whispered.

Jimin hummed, a pleased look on her face.

Right before Aeri could come up with a way to tease the two of you, the front door to the dorm had burst open, a flushed Minjeong making her way onto the living room.

“You good?” Ning asked.

“No” Minjeong scanned the room before elaborating. She took notice of how you and Jimin were chilling on the floor, Ning sat right across the two of you, and Aeri looked over all of you up on the couch. “Good thing the couple is here, I need advice”.

“We live here…? Where else would we be?” Jimin stated, you softly hit her leg at the slight jab, turning towards Minjeong and encouraging her to continue.

“What is it that you need, Minjeongie?” you expressed in the sweetest tone you could muster, Jimin turned towards you with suspicion written on her features.

“Okay” Minjeong paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “How do I get a girl to talk to me without making it look like I’m trying too hard?”.

Before either Jimin or you could come up with something, Aeri snorted. “What makes you think those two can help you with that?”.

“Who came onto who? I forgot.” Ning asked.

“Jimin asked me out”, you shrugged, “she’s probably the better suited person to answer that question”.

Your girlfriend nodded, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “That’s easy. Just hit her with some type of non-lethal object and pretend it was an accident, she’ll think you’re cute.”

As the silence stretched, everyone's gaze gravitated toward Jimin, confusion deepening with each passing moment.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this” Minjeong began, “but Aeri unnie was right, you really suck, Jimin unnie”. Aeri and Ning laughed at Minjeong’s comment, the young leader rolled her eyes, but you remained quiet, mulling over Jimin’s words.

“You girls are laughing, but it worked for me” Jimin shrugged, a smirk present on her face as she wrapped her arms around you for further emphasis, making it your turn to roll your eyes.

The leader’s statement made all of the members turn their heads towards you. You felt your face heating up, not liking where this was going.

“Is that how the two of you met?” Aeri asked incredulously.

“It all happened back when we were trainees” you began, trying to remain cool “I was minding my own business when suddenly a shoe collided with my head…”.

“There’s no way…” Ning said.

_____________________

The rhythmic hum of the practice room's fluorescent lights cast a soft glow on the worn-out floor. You, a trainee lost in the pursuit of perfection, were diligently practicing your dance routine, unaware that your life was about to take a whimsical turn.

Jimin, the spirited yet mischievous trainee known for her infectious laughter, watched from the doorway. She'd noticed you, your dedication evident in every move, and an impromptu idea sparked in her mind.

Determined to break the monotony of the routine, Jimin glanced around the room, searching for a way to capture your attention. Her eyes landed on her own pair of well-worn practice shoes, and a mischievous grin spread across her face.

Without a second thought, she plucked one of her shoes from her bag and, with the precision of a seasoned pitcher, hurled it towards the room's interior, aiming directly at you. The shoe sailed through the air with surprising accuracy, catching you off guard as it collided with your head.

For a brief moment, the practice room fell silent, the shoe's unexpected impact echoing in the space. You turned, a mix of surprise and confusion on your face, searching for the source of the unexpected interruption.

There, at the doorway, stood Jimin, attempting to look innocent despite the playful spark in her eyes. "Oops," she said, feigning innocence. "My bad."

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, a mixture of Jimin's infectious chuckles and the bewildered reactions of the other trainees who had witnessed the unconventional spectacle.

Despite the initial shock, you couldn't help but chuckle at the audacity of the shoe-throwing incident. Jimin's goofy grin and unapologetic demeanor broke through the seriousness of the practice session, injecting a burst of spontaneity into the whole thing.

Jimin approached you, her laughter contagious. "I thought I'd try something different to get your attention."

"Well, you certainly succeeded," you replied, a bemused smile playing on your lips.

Little did you know, in that whimsical moment, a connection had been forged—one that would grow beyond the confines of a practice room and blossom into a unique love story. The playful shoe-throwing incident became the catalyst for a romance that defied convention, and as Jimin flashed her trademark grin, you couldn't help but feel that the universe had conspired to bring the two of you together in the most unexpected way.

_____________________

The room fell into a hush as you shared the unexpected origin story of your relationship with Jimin. The members exchanged wide-eyed glances, their disbelief evident.

"I was busy trying to nail the new choreo, lost in my own world," you continued, a nostalgic smile tugging at your lips. "Out of nowhere, a shoe—Jimin's shoe—comes flying at me. It hit me right on the head."

Ning let out a burst of laughter. "You've got to be kidding me."

Jimin, however, wore an unapologetic grin, seemingly proud of her unconventional approach. "Hey, it got her attention, didn't it?"

Aeri leaned forward, her eyes narrowing in amusement. "And then what happened? Did she throw a pretzel at you to seal the deal?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Not exactly. But it did catch me off guard, and when I turned around, there she was, trying to act all innocent."

"Wait, so you hit on her because you threw a shoe at her?" Minjeong asked, a mixture of bewilderment and amusement on her face.

Jimin nodded, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Sometimes, you've got to make an impression."

"That's... surprisingly effective?" Aeri mused, looking at Jimin as if she'd just unlocked the secret to dating.

Ning leaned back, still processing the revelation. "So, all this time, we've been making fun of Jimin unnie's cheesy attempts, and it turns out, it worked for her."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Jimin unnie might be onto something," Minjeong admitted, a hint of resignation in her tone.

The room erupted into laughter, and Jimin basked in the unexpected approval of her unorthodox approach to romance. You, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel a fond warmth at the memory of that peculiar encounter, the shoe-throwing incident that had sparked the beginning of your love story.

As the laughter subsided, Minjeong wiped away tears of amusement. "Alright, Jimin unnie, I'll give it a shot. A non-lethal object, you said?"

Jimin grinned, eager to share her unconventional wisdom. "Exactly. Just make sure it's something harmless, and when she least expects it. It's all about making an unforgettable first impression."

Encouraged by Jimin's advice, Minjeong contemplated her approach, the room buzzing with renewed energy. Little did she know, a single, seemingly innocent question about dating advice had set in motion a chain of laughter, revelations, and a peculiar romance that had stood the test of time—all thanks to a shoe thrown in the name of love.

____________________

A/N: Hi, hello! Med school might be the death of me one of these days but meanwhile, I'm still here. I've been so busy lately, but I still wanted to give you guys something. I had written the major part of this a while ago, but I didn't have enough time to properly finish it until now. I hope you guys enjoy it, and we'll see each other again when I have enough time.

Also, Jessica Jung and Taeyeon finally had comebacks, life's so so good right now.

#aespa imagines #aespa scenarios #aespa x fem reader #karina imagines #aespa #karina scenarios #yu jimin #yu jimin scenarios #yu jimin x reader #karina x reader #yu jimin imagines #karina aespa #aespa fluff #aespa fanfic #aespa karina

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random-introverted-blog · 10 months

Text

Come Home To Me [Ascended!Astarion x F!Reader]

The 10MB limit will be the death of me

Intended Audience: Mature [May ratings never stop you]

Who be smoochin?: Astarion x F!Reader

The Bit: You leave Astarion, save the day and go back to your hometown to live happily ever after with your family. Good thing he's not your crazy jealous ex. Otherwise who knows what he'd do when he found you? Happily minding your own business? oh, perish the thought, darling. Oh, and some time later you accidentally die without permission. He is not a happy camper about any of this. He may or may not raze your town and kill your family in the process...

Warnings/Advisories: It's Ascended!Astarion, guys. Come on. Still need me to explain? Fine. *Unfurls the world's longest scroll* Expect yandere elements, forced vampirism [yes...], intentional manipulation to cause Stockholm Syndrome. Emotional abuse by proxy, possessive behavior *pauses to shimmy more of the scroll into view* "you have a sister and she kinda a thirsty ho but we don't judge you go queen". And violence. Of the graphic variety. "I would have given you a dog, but he'd have probably killed the dog". Everything is (literally) on fire. And death. Lots of it. ANGST. Bad ending? Depends on what you consider bad. If you like obsessive yandere vampire boys then it's probably a good ending for you.

Words, all the words (count) : 4,001 baebeee

And away, we... GO

ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The last thing you said to him about it was in reply to his hurtful comments.

"Well, that's fine with me. My home isn't with you, anyway."

It had been some time since you defeated the Absolute and your quiet little hamlet had remained such since your triumphant return. Hardly a thing had changed, not the Wilks farmstead, not the general store, not even that old and tipping wooden signpost. Few of your companions knew of the place you called home. He had never asked; you had never told, and it seems it was a blessing you hadn't. The last thing you wanted was for him to stroll into town and go out of his way to remind you how happy he was without you.

Which definitely seemed like a thing he would do.

As if he didn't have better things to do.

Thankfully, it sounds like he has. Such an opportunity to take Baldur's Gate by the throat was one only a fool would pass up. And Astarion Ancunín was certainly no fool. In no time, he had charmed and maneuvered himself to the top of the food-chain. By means of persuasion, intimidation... and a tactic of his you're intimately familiar with.

Seduction.

Oh, the rumors of who he has or hasn't slept with. Was it necessary to get where he was now? No. It was a display of power now. Dominance. He could have anything and anyone he wanted, anyone he deemed worth his whim, and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do to stop it. And clearly, he didn't want you.

It stung a little. You had genuinely fallen in love with the man he used to be. But that was the keyword, wasn't it? He used to be. The man he had become now was a stranger. The warmth that once resided in his eyes had been replaced by a chilling, calculating gaze. Gods, why didn't he just listen to you? He didn't need the ritual. He was already more than enough...

With a shake of your head, you stepped out the front door of your small, two floor cottage and made the brief journey to your parents' house. A smile curled your lips when you saw your older sister waiting for you outside "Y/N, you're late!" She scolds with a laugh, throwing her arms around you.

A roll of your eyes and you returned her hug. "An adventurer is never late. They arrive always when they intend to."

"Sounds like a fancy way of admitting you're always late to me." Your brother remarks gruffly. Your mother not far behind. "You sure your time as a big hero didn't go to your head?" He adds with a raise of his eyebrow.

You move away from your sister and embrace your mother first, then your brother. "I kind of had other things in my head then, brother dearest," you remind them with a small laugh.

Your mother lightly smacked your brother's large arm and narrowed her eyes. "Don't drive her away with that attitude of yours, unless you want her to return to adventuring!" She scolds with a playful glint in her gaze.

A sigh escaped your lips. It had been five long years since you've taken up your old gear and hit the road. Part of you missed it. But you'd never admit that to her. She was just so glad to have you home, you couldn't bear to take that from her. Not after your father had passed while you were out saving the world.

"Come now, my starlings, I've got your sister's favorite on the stove for lunch," she cooed and herded the three of you inside. And like every time you come over, you spend your time regaling them of your journey and heroics. Of your friends' camaraderie around the campfire. From Wyll's many dances with Karlach, Shadowhearts' best snarky comebacks, Gale's incredible displays of powerful magic and Lae'zel's discipline, her culture and brutal efficiency.

And every time, you noticed the look your brother would give. Initially, you thought it was protectiveness. No matter how much you tried to downplay it, your family was acutely aware of the gravity of your situation back then. Perhaps your brother was merely thinking how many times they came so close to losing you, without them realizing it.

Maybe it was partly true, but it certainly was not the only reason. "Sister, I'm sorry but I must ask..." He began, gently clearing his throat as he leaned back in his chair, across the table from you. "I was in the Gate not too long ago and heard... things. That you never seem to mention yourself..."

Despite your efforts to wrack your brain, you come up blank and draw your brows together. You cast a glance at your sister beside you and your mother, beside your brother. They don't seem as confused as you... "Lord Ancunín, was he not a companion of yours? They say he is also a Hero of Baldur's Gate."

"Yes." You answer sharply, also leaning back in your chair. "And you heard he and I were involved, I take it? That's what this is about?" You were getting defensive. You knew it, but you couldn't stop it. Even now, the damned elf was a sore spot for you.

The man your brother was, he never backed down or cowed away from anything, hardly ever you and only consistently your mother. He dipped his chin and held your glare. "Did he hurt you?" He asked, his words blunt but his tone low.

You chuckle dryly, and your gaze immediately flicks towards the door. "What does it matter? It was five years ago. Astarion and I were in love, yes, love. And then he took a path I couldn't follow in good conscience. So we did what we had to, then went our separate ways."

He paused, considering your response. Your sister was practically biting her nails in an effort to silence all the questions she had for you about your evidently dramatic love life. Your mother gave you the worst look of them all.

Pity.

"If it is as you say, little sister. Then I can only commend you for remembering your worth. From what I gather, he is not a man worthy of your attention," he says with a stiff nod.

A weak smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "He was. Once..."

"So what was he like? Was he as charming and beautiful as they say he is in person?" Your sister gushes as soon as she deems there's an opening in the conversation.

You hold up a hand to stop your brother and mother from scolding her. Somehow she's older than you, if only by two years. "Yes, and yes. Even after we broke up, I found him painfully gorgeous. His voice was like velvet, he was smart and witty and knew just what to say..." now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, you decided to indulge your sister's silly fascination about your ex. If just for today.

Afterward, the three of you, as always, did the remaining housework for your mother. A gesture of gratitude for everything she had done for you all as children, and still into adulthood. Life without your father had noticeably taken its toll, hence why your siblings had moved back home. None of them had outside obligations, and you were still trying to settle down from your adventuring days and really needed the quiet.

On your way out the door, intent on your cottage for the evening, your mother touched your arm. "Before I forget, starling!" she says, reaching for the small table next to the door, "this came here, addressed to you."

She extends her hand, offering you a letter adorned with a peculiar and ornate wax seal. You turn it over once or twice in your hand before smiling and thanking her. Odd. The only ones who wrote to you were Shadowheart and Gale and not only did they know to send your letters to your home, but they didn't use wax seals either. Not even Gale.

No one else knew where your hometown was. Even fewer that you returned here after your party disbanded. So who else could have sent it? That is clearly your name above the seal. It was not a mistake on the courier's part. But then, that was the only way this made much sense. Who could have found, cared enough to write and send a letter to you after all this time? To the wrong house, to boot?

It was a persistent question that nagged at you, making the walk home feel longer than usual. Paying only mild attention to the eerie stillness in the cool night air.

You set it down on your kitchen table to turn on the lanterns around your cottage, illuminating the room with a soft, golden glow before you decide to open it at last. The letter revealed its contents - or lack thereof, as you unfolded it and saw only two lines in the center of the parchment.

Playtime is over, pet.

It's time for you to come home.

For a moment, and only a moment, your brows draw together. And when it clicks in your mind, you toss the letter on the table as if it's poisoned, or worse, Him and you paced restlessly in front of your table. Fixated on the parchment, as if it might attack you when you least expect it. What could he possibly want now? Half a decade later, you've moved on. Hadn't he? How many others had he taken to his bed since you went your separate ways? Couldn't he have busied himself with them instead? Out of all those partners, a plethora of variety, you were sure, not a one of them had held his attention for at least a decade? And why, by all the gods above and below, did he send it to your mother's house? Such a careless mistake was unlike him. If he had gone through all this effort to find you, surely he had to at least know where you actually lived in town.

Your heart sunk as the thought crossed your mind.

It wasn't a mistake. He doesn't just know where you live...

A scream rang out, snapping your eyes to the door. More shrieks followed, and you darted to the window. Faces ran frantically down and up the road, smoke billowed into night sky, dusted with stars, from closer to the village center. You clenched your teeth, giving yourself a moment to seethe with anger before rushing upstairs to the chest at the foot of your bed. Did you have time to equip your armor? Most likely, not. Best to take your weapons. The sooner you're outside, the better.

Prepared as you were ever going to be, you dashed down the stairs and shouldered your front door open. The raiders were already in front of your house. You recognized the hauntingly pale, lifeless face of Gregory, the barman, in the claws of a half elf. His sharp red eyes weredistant as he gorges on his meal, mouth latched tight to Gregory's neck.

"Another!" cheered a nasally voice behind you. Two spawn leaped down from the thatch roof of your home. Quickly closing in. The human woman continued, "Ohh, I can taste this one already! How delicious! Perhaps I should save some for Master—"

"Don't be foolish!" hissed the half elf, tossing the drained body aside. "Master said our reward was a feast, and I intend to feast!" He lunged, fangs glistening with fresh blood in the dim light. Experience traveling with at least one vampire had prepared you for the tactic, and you stepped out of the way with ease.

It was the halfling that seemed the only one not mad with bloodlust. "B-but Master said... there was one we couldn't..." she stammered, eyeing you almost with recognition.

But the other two ignored her and threw themselves at you again.

Despite the boredom that consumed your life over the past few years, you were unwavering in your commitment to staying in shape and proficient in combat. You sparred regularly with the local guards, who were more than happy to help. They learned a few things in turn, after all, from the Hero of Baldur's Gate. So staying almost two steps ahead of these stumbling corpses was a breeze, almost comically easy for you.

Until your eyes caught sight of a burning home, the heat of the flames could be felt from where you stand. Your mother's burning home... As everything else melted away, a numbness washed over your limbs and your heart settled into stillness. Just as you were about to cry out, a blade mercilessly penetrated your back, twisting with a force that seemed intent on separating your torso from your hip. The taste of blood coated your tongue, while an indescribable agony consumed your every nerve. Fangs as sharp as razors mercilessly sunk into your neck, accompanied by the loud, insatiable slurping sounds that invaded your ears.

Except for one last sound before your world began to fade. "No! You worthless wastes of flesh, what are you doing!?" roared from somewhere distant, rapidly getting closer.

The grip on your body relented, and you crumpled to the ground. Above you, a familiar, curly white-haired, fangs and all ascendant vampire lord. His face was almost feral. Hoisting the human by the throat with one hand, her feet kicking in the air. "I gave you an entire village of fools to feed on, a vivid description of the one woman who was off-fucking-limits...!"

A serene anger washed over his face, causing a shiver to run down your spine, as he sealed his lips and glared at her with an icy stare. "You will wait, on your knees, until I am ready to thoroughly enjoy goring your body with my bare hands."

Her voice strained, she barely managed to gasp out "Master...!" before he mercilessly flung her aside, treating her with the indifference one would show to a discarded toy. The moment her body hit the ground, it rigidly rolled and moved until it settled on its knees in place. Silent sobs wracked her body, and tears streamed down her face, leaving her cheeks damp.

In an instant, his eyes landed on your unfocused one, coughing blood. You knew you were dying. But it wasn't as sad, or even as painful as you expected. "You spiteful son of a bitch..." you hissed, spitting blood from your mouth. He opened his to reply, but you wouldn't let him. You were going to enjoy this... You panted, wheezing the last of your energy into your last twist into his heart. "I damn you, Astarion... I damn you to the Hells. I damn you to misery..." Quoting the man that you knew haunted him still.

You take the clenching of his jaw and his balled fists to your grave with delight as your eyes fall closed, and you breathe your last.

You finally find peace, a gentle presence that settles within your soul. It was a peace so pure, so profound, that it felt almost otherworldly. There was a weightlessness in the air, as if burdens had been lifted and freedom embraced. Your eyes are drawn to the path ahead, its surface adorned with pristine, pearly white stones. Your brother stood at the end, ready to greet you. There stood your father and mother, beckoning you with open arms. And your heart swells with an untameable warmth as you start down toward them.

A cold, deathly grip catches the back of your neck, sending a sudden jolt of fear through your body. Pain squeezed you with an intensity you had never felt before. Your mouth opens, but not even a whimper escapes you as you're forcefully dragged back, kicking and flailing.

With a heavy gasp, your heart pounds in your chest as you lurch forward. Or at least you start before cold, familiar hands grab hold of you, pulling you into his arms. "Now, now, darling, just relax..." Astarion sighs in your ear, his voice thick with... relief?

You died... you were free of this... of him. "I was... going home..." you whimper, unable to fully choke back the sob, not even sure how he managed to forcefully bring you back.

"You are already home, pet."

In your frantic attempt to escape, you notice that the sights, sounds, and smells are completely different - you're no longer in your village, but a large, opulent bedchamber. Lavish furniture and ornaments of gold, silver, so many you quickly lose count. The gentle, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock provided a comforting background noise. A luxorious silk gown, likely worth a kings ransom, has replaced your weathered tunic and trousers you knew you were wearing before. The softest linens you've ever felt in your life gently caress your bare legs.

His hand petting your head snaps you back from your observations. "Why the face?" Astarion murmurs, "did you truly think death would keep you from me? Little love, I can take anything I want. Even from the jaws of death itself." He briefly looks away as he giggles that short, airy sound that used to melt your heart. "Or did you think your heroic brother would, what, break my nail before I ripped out his throat?"

It's enough you try to wrench yourself from his arms again, stopping short of beating your fists against his stupid, fancy white and blue doublet. "You spiteful bastard..." you repeat from your memory as he keeps you held against him with little effort. "I was there with them, my family—"

"Hush, darling, you're not being reasonable," Astarion mutters, his fingers on your back drawing shapes and patterns that you reluctantly admit still soothed you. "I let them have you long enough. I let you play house in that backwater, and now it is time for you to take your place at my side. You were fated to be mine, and mine, you will always be." He explained, as if he was making perfect sense and stating the obvious.

You scoffed, trying again to leverage your hands on the bed, or his lap to put any amount of distance between you and him. "So dying and forcing me back, all reasonable?"

The look in his eyes turned sharp, reminiscent of the way he eyed that spawn. "Well, if you had been where you belonged, none of that would have happened, would it?" He chastised, lulling his head to one side. "I've already cast the insignificant wretch into the kennels. You are welcome to watch her suffer. Perhaps I'll grant her a blessing and allow her to kiss your feet before I peel her lips off her face... Or maybe after..." Astarion trailed off thoughtfully, his eyes up and away a moment as he considered the grotesque torture, as if casually deciding what flavor tea he'll have in the morning. "How comfortable are you with blood between your toes, my dear?"

You were experiencing such emotional turbulence that you momentarily wondered if any of this was actually happening. If he was aware, he paid no mind to it, as another wild thought captivated his mind. "And why did you not tell me you had such a deliciously submissive sister? Honestly, my love, if she can watch me kill your brother, drain your mother and still stare so eagerly at me, why can't you?"

Your heart froze, and you swallowed hard. Unwanted images of what he could have, and probably had done to your family flashed through your mind. As you stilled in his arms, he moved a hand into the air and snapped his fingers. And like a well-trained puppy, in she waltzed, wearing a black simple dress. Expressionless and silent as she stood before you. Watching you with scarlet eyes. "You know I'd never hurt you, of course. But perhaps your sweet sister can model the obedience I expect from you..."

Infinite threats, insults and visions of violence cross your mind, and like he can read them, Astarion gives you a stern, scolding look. From the corner of your eye, you catch a tear rolling down her cheek and it takes everything from you to not jump to embrace her.

Not that Astarion would let you out of his arms to do so. Fear spreads through your body, numbing your limbs and clouding your thoughts. For every outburst, act of defiance, misbehavior, denial of compliance, Astarion will ensure your sister suffers in your place...

"There you are, my treasure..." He cooes, catching a loose lock of your hair and twirling it in his fingers, pleased with whatever he sees in your eyes, "learning already... you're going to be so wonderfully obedient for me, aren't you?"

You turn your head away, down at the bed, never feeling so... small in your life. He grabs your face, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forces your attention back to him, denying your escape. "Aren't you?" He repeats, voice firm, commanding.

Without thinking, you scowl at Astarion, noticing the frosty disappointment in his eyes. He lets out an impatient sigh, as if handling a temperamental child, and then glances behind him. "On your knees, darling, it seems your little sister needs your example already..."

She stiffly collapses to the ground like an anchor to the seafloor and Astarion groans, as if he expected a more graceful motion from her. He starts to rise from the bed and a whimper from your sister has you catching his sleeve. "I'll do it." You force out, inwardly cringing at the implication.

But that's not enough for him. "You will do what, pet?" He says lowly, lazily turning to you.

"Behave..." The word hung in the air, its bitter taste lingering on your tongue, surpassing any foulness you had ever known. Again, you try to look anywhere else, any semblance of escape you can find from this, from him.

Astarion continues to press, his fingers brushing against your cheek, coaxing you to face him, locking eyes. There was a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes, like a flickering flame. "And...?"

"And... I'll be obedient..." Your chest tightens, your lip quivering and Astarion's face lights up with a tender smile.

He resumes his position on the bed in front of you. "Oh, my love, I know you will." Astarion smirks, his arm curling around you, pulling you back into him, his lips feathering yours, teasing before connecting them in a sweet... loving kiss. Just as you remember it, his lips are like a delicate caress, and you know better now than to pull away.

Your lips sync with his in a hypnotic rhythm, and his distinct taste lingers on your tongue - a blend of red wine with a faint metallic undertone. The scent of him surrounds you, a unique blend of rosemary, bergamot, and brandy, unmistakably his. His fangs only barely graze your bottom lip as he guides you down onto your back, maneuvering himself on top of you, "because I'll have eternity to teach you..." Astarion whispers against your mouth like a promise, and you can feel him smile at his own words.

Astarion's lips travel from the corner of your mouth, they leave a trail of soft kisses along your cheek, descending to the spot beneath your ear, until they eventually reach the pulsating artery, echoing the frantic pace of your heart. One last time... "My beloved consort..." He whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your skin, teasing his fangs against your neck, as if trying to be gentle in his own way. "Welcome home..." He purrs.

Then at last, he sinks his fangs deep. Drinking slow, steady gulps. One hand taking yours, interlocking his fingers with it, the other soothingly petting your hair. And at last, as your vision blurs and darkens, your body shivering under his, you start to believe it...

Maybe he does want you after all...

Maybe he's been your home all along...

ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A/N: Honestly, I could probably write this one forever, it was so much fun. The perfectionist in me already spent more time than I should've on this. Two days of neglecting my main fic on ao3? Ugh, take me to the gallows. Apologies to my partner, friends, coworkers, family, dogs... I have a sacred duty to update that sucker at least every other week.

Also, I apologize for the quality of the gif. I make a lot of my own gifs and screenshots for these and tumblr's 10mb limit is going to throttle my sanity until it dies twice over.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #yandere male #tw yandere #baldurs gate #ascended astarion #yandere that kills your whole family because you love them more than him uh oh

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venusbby · 1 year

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being rin's roommate had its pros and cons.

he was always quiet, minding his own business. he never really brought any trouble (except the few times he came home with an injury and expected you to let him deal with it himself) and that's what made living with him easier.

but sometimes, just sometimes, it feels like he's been forced to live with you.

you wouldn't say you were overly social or a person who could be friends with anyone they like, but god, every time you talked, rin acted like you were the most uninteresting person ever. when clearly, you were the most chill person on the planet.

exaggeration, yes. but it's not wrong to say that you weren't a loud person. you preferred silence just as much as he did. so why did he look like he's living with a totally different person?

that blank expression, his lips pressed in a straight line and those undeniably pretty lashes of his- as much as you had grown to like the look he always gave you, it was so damn frustrating. always the same stupid look, the look which made your stomach flip even though he didn't smile or show amusement.

you never knew what was going on his head.

eventually, he noticed the effort you put in to be his friend (when all you did was stare at him every time he was doing something, as if to remind him, "stop ignoring me!!! stop. ignoring. me.") and your 'friendship' was finally happening. (he felt a little scared.)

it was all going quite nicely, even though rin was still not that talkative. you knew he was just.. like that. you wouldn't expect him to change his ways. all you wanted was to help him get as comfortable as you were in this apartment, and it definitely worked.

after weeks and weeks of progress, it finally came to a point where rin was so comfortable that he even asked you to join his horror movie marathon.

and it was a big mistake, he realized, when you stood in the doorway of his bedroom with a sheepish look on your face.

"what do you want."

rin's irritated voice made you huff. he was already under his covers, but hadn't slept even though it had been almost an hour after the last movie. you felt incredibly jealous of how warm he must be, shuddering and entering his room without saying a word. a new level of comfortable.

oh, how much you loved his expressions- like how was staring at you like you were a fly that wouldn't leave him alone.

"shut up," you hushed, lifting the covers and climbing into his bed, cutting him off just as he was about to complain, "and move."

now, you laid next to your roommate who had started to consider pushing you off the bed. "this is fucking ridiculous. what the- what are you doing?" he hissed, watching you shift closer and pull the covers over yourself.

you sighed, ignoring him. "that last movie was.. something."

he groaned, staring at the ceiling just like you, avoiding the way your sides touched. "you insisted on watching it all the way, not me."

"yeah, but then i kept seeing that fucking old lady from the movie in the corner of my room. so, now im here."

"we are never doing this again. you hear me?"

"whatever, just let me sleep here tonight. it's 2 AM already, i'll be out of your room by 6."

rin cursed under his breath, turning quickly so that his back was facing you. this bed wasn't even made for two people. he closed his eyes, hoping to drift off as soon as possible so that he could just forget that you were in the same bed as him. there was no way he would let you notice the reason for his frantic movements.

his peace lasted for mere seconds before it was interrupted by the sound of shuffling and the mattress slightly sinking near his side when you wrapped your arm around him.

his eyes shot open and he stilled, hearing you softly apologize, your voice closer to his ear this time.

"i have a habit, sorry."

rin was losing his mind and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to exist tomorrow.

"you're fine." he rushed his words faster than anything, breathing out when you shifted even closer with what sounded like a silent laugh. "just go to sleep, fuck's sake."

there were no more horror movie nights after this, that's for sure. but now rin's got a bigger problem and that is dealing with these stupid feelings he has for you.

he really was losing his mind.

#itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock headcanons #blue lock manga #itoshi brothers #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock rin #idk what this is #but anything to annoy rin? im in

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arthurbristow · 7 days

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The night air was cold and thick, heavy with the stench of sweat, dirt, and failure. The rain had long stopped, but the dampness still clung to the streets, making everything feel oppressive.

The rest of the League had gone out on various errands — Twice had muttered something about scouting locations, Toga was off on her own twisted business, and Dabi had left without a word, his typical indifference hanging in the air.

It was just you and Shigaraki now, and the atmosphere in the hideout was heavy, oppressive.

You sat on the edge of a broken-down couch in the dim, crumbling warehouse that served as the League of Villains’ temporary hideout, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and exhaustion.

The aftermath of the botched mission hung in the air like a noxious cloud, and you could feel the tension simmering, thickening with each passing second.

Across the room, Shigaraki Tomura paced back and forth like a caged animal, his movements jerky and erratic, every step an explosion of pent-up anger. His red eyes glowed with a fury that hadn’t subsided since the mission went south. His fingers twitched, clawing at the air, brushing dangerously close to his neck as if he was barely containing the urge to grab at the skin beneath his collar and tear it apart.

They had failed. He had failed. The kidnapping of Bakugo had gone sideways — again — and now Shigaraki was teetering on the edge of a meltdown.

“I had him!” he snarled suddenly, his voice echoing off the walls of the dilapidated room. His boots scraped against the floor, the sound as harsh as his breathing. “We had that damn brat right in our hands, and they — those fucking heroes — had to ruin it!”

You flinched at the sharpness of his words but stayed silent. His fury was like a storm, wild and untamed, and you knew better than to step into its path without caution. Still, watching him unravel like this — it sent a chill down your spine.

He stopped pacing for a moment, one hand coming up to claw at his white hair. “Every damn time… every single time we get close, it falls apart!” His voice was growing louder, more frantic. “Those damn heroes, they think they can just—”

“Tomura…” you said quietly, trying to find a way to ground him, to pull him out of this spiral.

His head snapped toward you, eyes blazing. “What?” he spat, his voice venomous. “What the hell do you want?”

You froze under his gaze. You’d seen him angry before, but there was something different this time — something more unstable. His frustration with Bakugo’s escape had compounded, twisting into a deep, festering rage that seemed ready to consume him.

“I—I just wanted to help,” you stammered, your voice weak, the words clumsy in your throat.

“Help?” he repeated, a mocking edge to his tone as he stalked closer, each step filled with barely contained violence. “You think you can help? You think anyone can help when I can’t even—” His voice broke off, his breath hitching in a ragged gasp. “This was my chance to prove it. To show the master that I’m more than just some kid with a quirk that destroys everything he touches. But of course fucking All Might had to intervene!”

His face twisted in frustration as he dragged a hand through his hair again, fingers shaking. The movement was erratic, desperate, as if he could somehow pull the failure out of his mind if he could just grip hard enough.

The sight of him like this — so raw, so vulnerable under all that fury — made your chest ache. You wanted to reach out, to offer something — anything — to ease the madness burning in his gaze, but how could you? You weren’t sure he’d even listen.

“Tomura-kun,” you tried again, softer this time, more careful. “It wasn’t your fault. We’ll get another chance. We can—”

“Shut up.” His voice was low, but it cut through the air like a knife. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing beneath the curtain of his hair. “I said shut up.”

“I just… I just don’t want you to blame yourself.”

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Blame myself? Oh, I’m very aware of whose fault this is. It’s mine. It’s always mine.”

You stood from the couch, your pulse quickening, but you couldn’t just sit there and watch him tear himself apart. Still, against your better judgment, you stood and crossed the small space between you. He didn’t stop you, didn’t even look up as you approached, his eyes fixed somewhere on the far wall, lost in whatever thoughts he was keeping locked away. His hair was an unruly mess, strands sticking to his forehead, clinging to his cheeks. “Tomura, stop. You don’t have to carry this—”

His hand shot out before you could finish, fingers wrapping around your wrist in a vice-like grip. His touch was cold, painful.

Instinctively, your gaze darted to where his thumb and four fingers gripped your arm — but his fifth finger hovered, suspended just above your skin. So close. Just millimeters away. The threat was immediate, palpable. One flick, one slip, and you would decay into nothingness. Your flesh would turn to ash in an instant, just like everything else he touched.

“Boss…” you whispered, your voice trembling, but you didn’t pull away. Fear churned in your stomach, cold and sharp. “Please. Let me help.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he hissed, his voice low and deadly, his face inches from yours. “You think I care about your hollow words? You think your comfort means anything to me? And you want to help?” he spat, his grip tightening, though his fifth finger remained just shy of contact. His red eyes bore into yours, filled with rage and something darker, something more desperate. “You can’t help me. You can’t fix this. You think you’re different, but you’re not. You’re nothing, just like the rest of these morons are!”

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. Without thinking, you moved even closer.

His eyes followed you warily, but he didn’t pull away, not yet.

Slowly, you reached up, brushing the strands of his white hair out of his face. The touch was gentle, and for a moment, he let you do it, his breath hitching slightly as your fingers grazed his skin. You tucked the loose strands behind his ear, your hand lingering for just a second too long.

His body went rigid under your touch. The air between you stilled, his crimson eyes widening ever so slightly in shock. His breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, the rage in his expression faltered, giving way to confusion. He stared at you, as though he couldn’t understand what you had just done, as though your gentle touch had cut through the chaos swirling in his mind.

“What are you trying to do?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You think you can fix me? That this—” He gestured to your hand. “—is going to make a difference?”

“I don’t want to fix you,” you whispered. “I just don’t want you to feel so alone, boss.”

Shigaraki didn’t move. He didn’t let go, either. His fingers trembled against your skin, the tension in his grip a constant reminder of the fragility of the situation. “Why?” he rasped, his voice hoarse, broken.

You swallowed, heart still pounding, but your voice remained steady. “Because I care. I’m here, boss. And I’m not leaving.”

His grip loosened, just enough for you to breathe again. “I’ve killed people, you know,” he claimed suddenly, his voice cold, detached. “I’ve wiped them out without a second thought. Innocents. Villains. Heroes. It doesn’t matter to me. Everything I touch turns to dust. I don’t deserve kindness of any kind.”

You stood your ground, even as the danger of his quirk lingered so close. “Maybe you don’t think you deserve it,” you said quietly, “but you do.”

With a shuddering breath, he let go. His hand fell to his side, his entire body sagging as though the weight of his anger and frustration had drained him. He looked away from you, his expression hardening once more, but there was a crack in the armor — a crack that hadn’t been there before.

“No matter how much you push me away, boss, I am not leaving. I believe in your cause.”

But Shigaraki didn’t respond. He turned away, retreating into the shadows, his shoulders hunched, his hands trembling at his sides as he mumbled something under his breath.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the tears burning at the corners of your eyes. But you didn’t let them fall. Not in front of him.

And as you watched him retreat into the shadows, you knew that no matter how close you got, no matter how much you tried, the chasm between you would always remain. He was right. You couldn’t fix him.

Shigaraki was alone.

And deep down, you knew he always would be.

#tomura shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #league of villains #shigaraki angst #x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura

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queenbeebumblebee · 7 months

Text

"What an incredibly ticklish rival!"

Ler!Alastor Lee!Vox

Summary: Vox was trying to attack Alastor on his radio studio, but the tables turn.. bad.

WARNING: Swearing

Alastor was minding his own business, chilling on his radio tower, the night was loud as always, it's hell after all! While with Vox.. he wasnt AS calm as the radio Demon was, he was in his Office, walking around in circles, ranting of his old rival, he had to get him somehow.. he NEEDED to, he needed his bright Spotlight back.. so, the middle of the night came, Vox was climbing up the radio tower of Alastor, because he would've been damned to Even Enter the Doors of the newly Hazbin hotel, just as Alastor was drinking coffe, he could tell his "old pal" was nearby, so he was more than ready..

As Vox entered the radio tower by breaking into a Window, the loud crashes from the glass could be heard.. and yet.. he was met with Alastor, Standing above him with his usual grin.

"greetings old pal! What brings You here at this hour of the night?"

Alastor said calmly and happily, just his usual self around people, this of course pisses Vox a Lot, the frown on his screen was obvious, yet he somehow stayed.. calm around the radio Demon, as if he was still fond of him after 7 literal years.

"i came here to stop You, You old timey prick! I'm here to regain My popularity ba-"

and before Vox was gonna finish his sentence, a black tentacle grabbed his ankles, lifting him from the ground, upside down, his vulnerability exposed for Alastor to see, which the tv Overlord hated.

"i'm afraid You can't do that friend, not right now, since it's pretty late, but since You are here.. i decided to have some... fun with you."

Alastor said, his voice twisting into a teasing nad evil voice, his grin widening as if he was about to attack Vox.

"W-WOAH! Hey hey hey, don't You DARE-"

Suddenly, Vox could feel tickling right on his sides and tummy, sending him into an uncontrolable fit of giggles and snorts, And Alastor was Even just using his tentacles to Tickle him, it wasnt much, but for Vox.. it was.

"h-hehehehey nohoho! Nohohot fahahahair!!"

Vox said, unable to speak properly, Even though it was small tickling.. poor him was just too ticklish for this.. yet he liked it, but he would rather get killed with holy weaponry rather than to admit it.

"what an incredibly ticklish rival i have in My hands tonight! Are these Bad spots? Or should i go somewhere else?"

Alastor teased, now, his fingers slowly pinching Vox's ribs, sometimes Even wiggling them Across his Armpits, causing the poor Vox to break into cackles, his laughter getting louder by the second.. he couldnt help it since it felt so nice..

"FUHUHUCK YOHOHOU! AAH! SHIHIT, NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!!"

Vox yelled as he threw his head back in laughter as Alastor pinched his Upper ribs and lower ribs, those we're oh so sensitive, and he wasnt Even going for the antennas.. that Made some shivers down Vox's spine just by thinking of it. It was getting too much, he was Even letting out sparks of electricity, because he was so overwhelmed by the feeling. Until..

"oh look at that! I found your sweet spot!"

"AAAAHH! NOOOHOHOHO, NOT THERE DAHAHAMN IT! IHIHILL KILL YOU AHAHAFTER THIHIHIHIIS!!"

Vox yelled loudly as Alastor wiggled his fingers across his antennas.. if the radio tower wasnt to far from the hotel, the whole crew would woken up by the sounds of cackles and snorts. Yet his arms we're free.. he could just get him back, but did he really wanted to do that? No, no he don't.. he likes it alot, Even more when he gets Tickled by the other Vees.

The minutes had passed, Alastor finally let Vox go, with the radio Demon now gone from the shadows, Vox hasnt had much of a choice to go back to the V tower, he was still feeling the Tickles, he could still hear the teasing.. he wanted it again, but the Vees couldnt do it better than Al, so..

He had to come back another day..

THE END

#bee #sfw tickling community #come get your food #lee!vox #ler!alastor #hazbin hotel tickles #hazbin hotel tickle #vox hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #Lee!Vox Tickle fics #New Tag for the Tickle fics for Lee!Vox. Make sure to use it!#Finally i can rest for a while-#queen bee fic #queen bee talks #Queen bee tk talks #Queen bee down to hell

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fanwarriorfictions · 4 months

Text

Help Me, Help You - Part Two

Fenrys x F!Reader

Summary- Embarking on their journey, Y/n and Fenrys slowly start to learn a little more about each other, to Y/n’s utter annoyance.

Warnings- none

Series Masterlist

Part Two

Y/n follows the golden male, her own pack strapped to her back. Only the essentials, clothes, weapons, and gold, if she needed anything else she could buy it along the way.

They walked for what felt like eternity, the road was well worn into the forest floor, coated in dry fallen leaves, winter would hit here soon. The wind held that chill, bringing it from the northern point of the continent, a familiar feeling on her skin.

The nearest port city would take them nearly another whole day to walk to, and who knew how long after that to get passage to the southern continent.

Y/n had been half tempted to shift and run to their destination, but she stuck to Fenrys, after all she’d sought him out for a reason. As night soon approached, Y/n found herself walking closer to the male’s side. Her brother had told her many stories of the creatures that lurked in the shadows.

“So,” Fenrys says, breaking the long silence they’d fallen into, “If you don’t mind me asking, where’d the cat form come from? Vaughan is the furthest thing from feline.”

A question she’d heard most of her life, one she dreaded deeply.

“None of your business,” Y/n says, and there’s a bite to her voice that she can’t hide.

“No need to get testy, kitten.” The nickname had stuck long after they’d left that little village to her utter dismay. “Just trying to get to know my new partner in crime.”

She glares at him, “We have different fathers, that’s all you need to know.”

It was the simplest version of the story, the only one she was willing to share.

“See was that so hard?”

The male is grinning at her, the expression pulling uncomfortably on the large scars that adorned the side of his face, from his brow to his jaw, just barely missing the onyx eyes that examined her just as closely as she did him.

“Why’d they send you out to look for him?”

Fenrys raises that scarred brow, “I volunteered.”

She hums, looking back at the path before them. The sun was starting to set, turning the sky a deep orange.

“We’ll set up camp here,” Fenrys says, taking his small pack off his shoulders, “Start the fire and I’ll find us something to eat.”

He didn’t give her any time to respond, shifting in a flash into a brilliant white wolf. Y/n took a step back from the to large creature, her heart leaping in her chest.

Her brother had told her of the Moonbeam twins, of their opposite colored forms that could tear men in two with a simple snap of their jaws. She didn’t want to find out what those teeth would feel like around her throat.

The wolf stared at her, a knowing look in those onyx eyes. He turned, darting into the woods, leaving her alone, leaving her to figure out how to start a damn fire.

It didn’t take him long to hunt down a few rabbits, Fenrys was already on his way back before the sun had turned the sky a deep purple.

He’d expected to find a small fire, not Y/n glaring intently at a bundle of sticks and some dried leaves. She clutches another small stick in her hand, holding it tightly enough that it bends beneath her grip.

“I don’t think you can threaten it into starting,” he says, “Though I’d sure love to see you try.”

She startled, looking up at him with wide eyes, her posture rigid, like she was ready to bolt. It takes her a second to really look at him, to realize he’s not a threat, before she relaxes, turning her glare back on the little pile of sticks.

“I can’t get it to start,” she says, throwing that poor bent stick down on the ground.

“Staring at it isn’t going to help,” Fenrys laughs, “Do you even know how?”

Her glare shoot up to him, snapping, “Yes.”

The way she says it, the harsh tone, the self conscious edge to it, tells him that, no, she doesn’t know how to do it.

“What? No one taught you any survival skills, kitten?” Fenrys asks, “I would’ve thought dear old brother would have at least shown you the basics. He always was the outdoorsman of the group.”

Y/n doesn’t snap back like he thought she would, only glares back down at that little pile, as if she could will the fire into starting.

Fenrys sighs, kneeling down in the dirt beside her, taking one of the larger sticks into his hand, placing the slightly sharp edge against one of small pieces of tree bark. Using both his hands to turn the stick back and forth, pushing down with each turn to create more friction. It only takes a few moments for the bark to start smoking, and then a small flame catches, spreading to the dried leaves packed around it.

Fenrys glances at the female beside him, those keen eyes watch his hands closely, like she was trying to memorize the motions.

She seemingly feels his gaze, her eyes jumping up to meet his own, he sees the embarrassment as soon as it hits.

“I haven’t left home much,” she explains, “No one saw fit to teach me.”

She shifts uncomfortably beneath his gaze, so Fenrys looks away, turning his attention to their dinner. He sees her watching in his peripherals as he prepares the the little creatures to be cooked. Her eyes are intently on his hands, watching each cut of his knife. Fenrys takes his time, slowing the motions down, silently teaching.

Fenrys throws the meat onto the fire, “I don’t know much about your brother if I’m being completely honest.”

“Not many do,” Y/n answers, those eyes still on the roasting rabbit, “He’s always been very private, even at home.”

“And where’s that?” Fenrys asks, “Home?”

Finally, those keen eyes look up, lit up by the fire, they look even more cat like than usual.

“North,” she says, quietly like the information was a secret, “A very small village in the Cambrian Mountains.”

Fenrys wouldn’t ask the name of the village, it’s likely he’s never even heard of it, “How’d you get so far from home?”

He didn’t add the fact that she didn’t know basic survival skills, yet the narrowed eyes tells him she heard the unspoken words.

“I traveled much in my other form,” she explains, “The Oakwald Forrest Cats are well used to the cold.”

With the long thick coat he’d seen, it wasn’t a surprise.

“I knew I’d recognized that cat,” Fenrys says.

He’d seen them near Terrasen, yet he’d never seen a fae shift into one. Though many of the fae of Erilea had been long hunted down, the few that remained, the ones he’d found to help them, there hadn’t been a cat among them.

“A gift from my father,” she says blandly, an edge to her voice like the last time he’d asked about her family. Seems her father was a sore spot for her, he tucked that knowledge away for later.

He hums, turning the stick holding his dinner to roast the other side. She did the same with her own, staring into the flame intently for several long minutes.

There was a familiar look in her eyes, one he’d seen in his own many times, like she was lost in a memory, lost in the emotion it came with.

So Fenrys took his dinner from the fire, nudging her own towards her, “Eat up.”

Without even looking at him, or looking away from that spot in the fire, she took her food and ate silently, methodically.

Once she was done, she shifted in a bright flash, curling into a small ball by the fire, her back to him. A clear statement, I don’t want to talk.

He knew the feeling all too well.

They arrived at the small city just south of the Naval port around midday, far quicker than she expected. Fenrys had gone to the docks to look for passage, leaving Y/n to wander the city by herself.

It wasn’t much, yet it was bigger than what she was used to, louder too. There was many voices, vendors hawking their goods, children playing, musicians singing and dancing to music played on improvised instruments.

Overwhelming, Y/n could only stare at it all in her cat form. Moving through crowds and over high beams, dodging hands that reached to pet her soft coat, hissing at to curious people who tried to grab her.

“Here, kitty kitty kitty,” a voice behind her, familiar and annoying.

Fenrys stood there, the human crowds parting around the obviously fae male. He was smiling devilishly at her, holding out what seemed to be a piece of ham from the wrapped sandwich in his hand.

She hissed at him, swatting the offering.

“Awe, come on,” he coos, “Don’t you want a treat, kitten?”

A man walking beside them fell straight on his ass when Y/n shifted, growling at Fenrys.

“Stop calling me that.”

“What? It suits you,” he leans closer to her, drawling out the word, “Kitten. Hey!”

He yells as Y/n rips the sandwich from his grasp. Turning on her heel to stalk away from him while she took a pointedly large bite.

“That was mine,” Fenrys whines, catching up to her in a few strides.

“And where’s mine?” She asks with a raised brow, taking another bite.

“I asked if you were hungry earlier,” Fenrys sighs, throwing his hands in the air, “You’re the one who said no.”

Y/n shrugs, “What’d you find at the docks, anything?”

Fenrys sighs again, turning his gaze away from his stolen sandwich to glare at the sky. That wasn’t good, Y/n thought, they’d be stuck here for weeks waiting for a ship to take them across the sea. Vaughan could be well on his way to the other side of the vast southern continent, and she’d never find him.

“Nothing?” She asks, lowering her hands from her mouth.

Fenrys moves quickly, snatching the lunch from her, “No, actually we leave in the morning.”

She gapes at him, “That was-“

“Mine actually,” he cuts in, biting directly where her mouth had just been, “Did Vaughan not teach you to always keep your guard up either? That was like taking candy from a baby.”

Y/n snarls at him, and Fenrys just laughs. She tries to grab it from him, but the male just held it high above his head, far far above her own.

“Oh quit with the hissing, kitten,” Fenrys laughs, “I’ll get you your own, we need to stock up for our trip anyways.”

“Quit calling me that, you oaf,” she snaps.

Fenrys smirks, patting her head with his free hand once, snatching the hand back as she went to swipe at him.

“Quit reacting so much and maybe I’ll stop.”

She doesn’t respond, only bearing her teeth at him, to which he only laughs, turning on his heel to saunter through the market. Y/n quickly realizes he wasn’t going to wait for her, assuming she’d just follow.

Swearing under her breath, she did just that. Jogging to catch up to the male, who still had that insufferable smirk on his lips as she settled into step beside him.

“I thought you were going to sit there and pout all day,” Fenrys says.

She was half tempted to claw at his smirking face and give him a matching scar on the other side.

“You owe me a sandwich.”

He laughs, “Someone’s mean when she’s hungry. Good to know, I‘ll pack extra snacks.”

“Shut up.”

They spent a several hours traversing through the vast city markets, stocking up on dried meats and cheeses that would hold well on the trip down to the southern continent. Once their bags were packed to the brim, they made their way to the ship, where they’d spend the next few weeks. It was set to leave first thing in the morning, so they hadn’t bothered to find an inn to stay the night in.

Fenrys had been relieved to find a ship that would take them, let alone one that was headed straight to the continent. And in his time on ships, he could say this was one of the nicer ones he’d been on.

The owner was a merchant, one that traded in silks and thread, he claimed to have tailored for Hasar herself. Knowing the female, Fenrys highly doubted she would let the sniveling man anywhere near her.

Fenrys had more than enough gold to pay for the trip across the sea, and enough to splurge on a private room away from the shared hammocks below deck.

He dropped his heavy pack onto the small desk by the door, falling face first onto the small bunk pressed against the wall with a satisfied groan. Fenrys appreciated the gentle sway of the ship beneath him, mostly because it was about to take him far away from this suffocating continent.

Behind him, Y/n quietly shut their door, carefully arranging her bag onto the opposite bunk, much more refined than his careless approach.

Fenrys turned his head just enough to see her. Either she didn’t notice his gaze or didn’t care, her focus stays on her bag, on the clothes she dug out. She methodically arranged her items, something Fenrys noticed she did a lot, she’d done it that morning when they packed out their little camp, later in the market when she stored away her things. Like there was something soothing about the repetition, like it calmed whatever was happening in her mind.

Fenrys would like to learn something similar, if only to stop the endless thoughts and emotions that, even after several months, still ran constantly through his head.

Her eyes finally turned to him, catching his stare. Suddenly he felt like he wasn’t meant to be watching, and the embarrassment of being caught had his cheeks darkening. There was really no reason for it, it wasn’t like he’d been watching her change.

“I’m going to go freshen up,” she says casually, her eyes not missing the blush, “Don’t miss me to much.”

She moved to the door, and Fenrys found himself tracking the movement, pushing up to rest on his elbows. She moved silently, like she always did, that feline grace that would put the silent assassins of the red desert to shame.

“I miss you already, kitten,” Fenrys sighs dramatically as she opens the door.

A hiss, a slam of the door, and she’s gone. Fenrys smiled to himself, settling back into his bunk. The gentle sway of the ship had him yawning before to long, the somewhat comfortable bunk didn’t help either, compared to the last few sleeping arrangements it was like laying on a cloud

As he drifted off to sleep, he saw keen eyes watching him, directly through his mask of confidence and swagger, staring into his soul, broken and dark, yet not seeming to care. Fenrys could only stare back, wishing he could see past her own shields.

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@emma-andrea

#sorry for the long wait #your girl has been busy and sad #not good for writing #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #fenrys tog #throne of glass fenrys #throne of glass x reader #throne of glass #tog x reader #tog

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