#I wish I could kick him in the gut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 year

Text

Protector

Paring: Simon Ghost Riley x f!reader

Warnings: torture, canon typical violence, protective ghost, mentions of past trauma, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 6.5k words

Synopsis: You and Ghost were captured and tortured...

This is based on this post that I made a while ago. Basically "touch her and I'll kill you" trope.

EDIT: Here's part 2

“…Get up!”

“…Fucking get up!”

The voice seemed familiar. It was rough, low and resonated in your head. Furious but hidden beneath it was a desperate plea.

Searing hot pain resonated from the back of your head and though your eyes were open you couldn't see a thing through the bright light that burned into your eyes. Something hot rolled down your face and the back of your neck as you stared into the blurry light trying to discern what was going on.

You couldn’t move a muscle, not even your fingers as an intense coppery taste fell into your mouth. It hurt to breathe against the cold floor, your chest and sides collapsing into you causing you to wheeze.

You blinked almost in slow motion. Unable to let your eyes shut despite the pulling weight you felt as if you were going to sink into the floor and fall asleep. You were tired and so cold yet you couldn’t even shiver without feeling pain electrocute you.

“You hear him?” A gruff voice, almost muffled but cold and condescending, called out to you as you felt a nudge on your side. You winced but that’s all you could do as you stared up at the shadow in front of you. “He wants you to get up."

Another voice just as cold said something in a different language you couldn't comprehend in your state. They argued back and forth while you tried to find the familiar person.

You squinted through the light to try to discern who was in front of you. Your vision was too blurry from pain and tears but no matter how many times you blinked them away you couldn't see. It made your heart race but the heavy beating hurt against your chest more than it should.

A swift kick to your gut knocked the wind out of you before you could cry out in pain. You gasped for air as tears ran down your face and more blood filled your mouth. The kick left sharp pains inside your abdomen and every moment you couldn't take in a breath, the more it hurt.

Hands grabbed onto your arms and yanked you off the ground, ignoring the cries you let out as they dragged you across the floor. You were thrown onto a chair and winced when you felt your restraints dig into your sore wrists and ankles as they tightened them around you again.

A hand grabbed you jaw and squeezed, causing you to wince again as you were forced to look ahead of you.

“She’s up now.” The man snickered and your attention moved in front of you. “This is what you wanted, yes?”

Your captor was talking to a man who was tied to a chair in front of you. Now that the light was partially out of your eyes and gravity allowed your tears to be blinked away, you could see.

The man across from you looked unfamiliar. His blond hair was stained with red and his face was bruised with blood as well. Despite that he seemed to have much more strength than you did since he was able to sit up straight when you couldn’t even hold your own head up.

Your eyes widened when you realized that was your lieutenant. That was Ghost.

You were seeing Ghost without his mask.

“Just tell us what we want and you can stop this.” Your captor gestured to your face.

Ghost glared at the man who held your face but said nothing. You couldn’t see how angry he was, how much hatred there was in his eyes and if looks could kill then both of you would’ve been free by now.

Blood dripped from your mouth and your captor let go of you by shoving your head away. He growled something under his breath as he walked away from you. You wanted to see what he was going to do but you didn’t have enough strength to lift your head up. You were glad for that however because almost immediately you could hear the man beating Ghost.

You wished you could tune out the sounds but you couldn’t. Every grunt and labored breath hit your ears, threatening you with an experience you had just been through.

You gathered all the strength you could muster and tried to struggle against your restraints but it wasn’t even enough to make them dig into your skin. You wheezed again and when those few seconds of fighting left you, you were hit with intense exhaustion.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you passed out.

Ghost’s chest heaved up and down as fresh blood ran down his face. He wasn’t sure how long his face had been used as a punching bag but he preferred it over being used as a cutting board instead. He would prefer to be anywhere else but in a concrete room, in a building that Price was struggling to find, however that was the risk that came with the job.

A simple recon mission had turned into getting captured by Russian weapons dealers. They weren’t exactly the hospitable type considering his nose was broken and he was missing a few fingernails.

He wasn’t new to torture but this had to be the worst torture method he had been through.

Ghost looked up at you and felt his entire world shatter.

If he hadn’t seen your eyes searching for him, he would’ve thought you were dead. You were covered in blood and bruises of all colors. Your clothes were tattered from having knives carved into your skin and he could see a few burn marks that would surely leave nasty scars. You had lost so much blood he was surprised you were still alive but so grateful you were holding on.

You weren’t supposed to be in here with him and there was no denying that it was his fault you were.

You both had been captured at the same time, a mistake from you both but he took the sole blame for it as your lieutenant. You were separated and Ghost assumed that they were at least keeping you locked up without touching you while they tried their hardest to get information out of him.

He assumed they were just going to keep trying, they were going to continue to beat the living hell out of him and he was going to say nothing to them. But he was proved wrong when they quickly realized they were getting nowhere with him so they brought you in to try to beat it out of you too. And then Ghost made the stupid mistake by opening his mouth and telling them to stop.

It took one word from him to seal your fate. One word and you became their favorite toy to beat, cut and harm in every possible way just to get Ghost to talk.

You were being used against him and as much as he wanted to deny it, to say he was an operative who knew how to handle these situations and was disciplined beyond the nines, it was working.

Every scream, every cry you let out broke down his defenses and it became harder for Ghost to keep his mouth shut. He wanted to tell them everything and that was scary for more than one reason which made him feel sick.

Scary because if they got the right info out of him, he could jeopardize the lives of many and become even more of a failure than he already was in this moment. Scary because if he was willing to break to end your suffering for the sake of both of you, he had to come to terms with how he truly felt about you.

And right now he couldn’t.

Ghost stopped himself by telling himself that once he gave them the info they needed, both of you were going to die. It was enough to keep his mouth shut until the next round of torture came.

All of the torture and pain for you was going to end soon. There was a spot on his restraints that was hidden from the weapons dealers that he had been working on since he had been strapped down. He could feel it start to become loose enough he could break his hand free, he just had to wait for the right moment.

“Sergeant.” He called out to your limp form with a raspy voice before he spit blood onto the floor.

You didn’t respond. You were out cold and his chest hurt more if it was even possible.

This past round of torture had been especially cruel and long. The weapons dealers had been relentless in their beatings, going so far as to toss you on the ground to kick you as hard as they could until you were coughing up blood.

“You better not fucking die on me.” He tugged on his restraint and never looked away from you. “That’s an order.”

It was a feeble attempt to make himself feel better. He worked against his restraint, staring at the bruises on your skin and the blood dripping from your face onto your clothes.

He thought about how you were going to be so much more damaged after this. Your smile was going to be absent from your beautiful face, your laughter would no longer grace his soul, you probably wouldn’t even give him those little touches he thought he hated. They had hurt you so much more than he ever wanted to think about and that made him pissed.

Ghost broke through it with ease. Adrenaline and rage coursed through his veins as he wasted no time ripping the rest of his restraints off. When he was finally free he shot up from his chair and nearly collapsed on the floor.

He was in worse shape than he wanted to believe.

Black spots dotted his vision and his aching muscles weighed him down enough that he had to hold onto the chair to keep himself from falling. His head pounded furiously which made it difficult to even blink as he found himself short of breath even though he had only stood up from the chair.

Everything hurt but he couldn’t let that stop him. He needed to be strong for you. He could rest when you were safe.

He pushed off the chair and kneeled in front of you. His eyes jumped all over you, trying to make sure you weren’t actively bleeding out before he gently cupped your face with shaky hands.

“Sergeant.” His voice was softer than usual as he held your face. “Come on, wake up.”

When Ghost moved your head ever so slightly you woke up with a slight jump. You immediately began to breathe quicker, thinking that a new round of torture was going to start before he spoke.

“It’s me.” He assured you and watched your eyes finally open. He always thought he was blessed by the universe when you looked at him but now he truly felt like the luckiest man to see them after all you both had been through. “It’s Ghost.”

“Ghost…” You rasped out, wincing from the pain as you relaxed now that he was in front of you.

“I’m here.”

He kept a hand on your cheek as he began to undo your restraints, one of his fingers pressed against your weak pulse. You weren’t bleeding out but a few more beatings like the one you had just endured and you’d be gone from him. He had to be quick and extremely careful when breaking out of here.

“I’m getting us out of here.” He explained in a low tone as your wrists became free but you didn’t move to get up. “We’ll have to move quick. I can’t fight and carry you at the same time, think you can walk for me?”

Ghost was prepared to have to carry you if you said you couldn’t. He’d come up with another plan instead of fighting his way out of there.The idea of moving sounded horrible to you, he could see it in your eyes, but you nodded as you gripped the chair tightly to prepare yourself to stand up.

He grabbed your arms as gently as he could and was going to help you up when he heard movement outside of the room.

“Fuck.” He gently set you back down in the chair and held your face so you were looking at him. “Stay.”

He moved away from you, and took position beside the door and listened to the approaching footsteps with bated breath. The silence in his ears was only broken by the loud beating of his heart as he braced himself for a fight he was determined to win.

When the door opened, his eyes narrowed. All of the torture he endured turned into anger but all of the torture you endured turned into blinding hot rage. He barely had enough self control to wait for the man to even enter the room before he began swinging.

The man let out a shocked yelp as Ghost’s fist connected with his face. He had no time to react when he grabbed the man by the shirt and flung him in the wall, pinning him against it as he rammed his fist into his face relentlessly.

Ghost was seeing red. He kneed the man in the stomach and caught his arm when he tried to fight back, ignoring the loud crack that came from it when twisted it as hard as he could. He didn’t care when the man screamed in pain, in fact he almost relished in it before he managed to wrap his arms around the man's neck and started to choke him.

He easily could’ve snapped it. The fight would’ve been over but he didn’t want it to end that quick. He wanted this man to suffer for putting his hands on you, almost wishing he could return the damage but there was no time for that.

The man went limp and Ghost threw him on the ground. He was breathing heavily as he snatched the knife he had from his back pocket.

The man deserved worse.

“Still with me, sergeant?” He rushed back over to you and when you nodded he carefully wrapped his arms around you. “We gotta go.”

You tried not to scream, but a groan left your throat as pain flushed over you when he pulled you up. Your chest heaved up and down as your vision went black, and you fell against Ghost. You felt his protective arms hold you up and close to him as you waited for your vision to come back. You could hardly stand on your own but you gripped his forearms for dear life while you forced yourself to stay strong.

“I’m okay.” You didn’t sound convincing as you tried to push away from him but he wouldn’t let go.

“No.” He bent down and wrapped his arm under your knees before you picked up with ease despite the screaming pain in his muscles. “I’ve got you.”

You were unnaturally cold in his arms. He held you close to his chest to try to warm you up. His heart skipped a beat when you wrapped your arms around him and hid your face in the crook of his neck. He adjusted his hold on you, trying his best not to hurt you as he did, and made his way towards the door.

He hoped that no one had heard the struggle and when he glanced at the body on the ground, it took a lot of self control not to kick it.

“Your mask…” Your weak voice was close to his ear and sent a shiver down his spine.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine.”

He hadn’t even thought about his face being exposed. He didn’t care if anyone saw his face at this moment, the only thing on his mind was getting you out of there.

Ghost peered out of the door down the dimly lit hall. He wasn’t sure how big the building was but luckily for the both of you no one seemed to be around. That didn’t make him feel any less on edge, in fact he was more on edge since he didn’t know the layout of the building or the routine any of its inhabitants had. For all he knew, someone could be coming around the corner and you’d both be screwed.

He stepped out in the hallway, keeping his attention on both sides as he stayed close to the wall. He moved close to the ground, trying to keep his footsteps quiet.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered as he turned around a corner.

“Stop.” He interrupted and felt more anger rise in him “I don’t want to hear any of that. Not now or when we get out of here.”

“Sorry…”

Noise from down the hall made him stop. His heart started to race and he quickly raced back to the corner, hiding behind it as he listened to the approaching chatter of two guards.

His eyes frantically searched for a room to hide in before he noticed what looked to be like a supply closet. He swung the door open and stepped inside, struggling to shut the door before they rounded the corner. He got it to close to a crack before he heard their voices closer than ever.

He stilled and held you closer to him. He felt your arms wrap just a little bit tighter around his shoulders as you both tried to breathe quieter. In the silence of the supply closet he could hear just how bad your wheezing was and it only gave him more motivation to get out of there as fast as he could.

He hoped neither one of your lungs were going to collapse before you made it out.

The chatter from the guards slowly began to disappear but he waited. He didn’t move a muscle even after the guards were long gone from the hallway. He wanted to be sure that no one else was going to show but for the first time since he had been subjected to torture he was able to catch his breath.

The pitch black closet and the silence within gave him a sense of security. He was fine with listening to your breathing in his ear as he shut his eyes for just a moment, just to find some peace.

You must’ve felt the same since your hold around him loosened and your breathing had gone steady. He held you closer to him, making sure you were still secure in his arms.

“They hurt you.” You whispered, causing him to open his eyes.

You were pointing out the obvious but he could hear the worry in your voice especially when your thumb caressed a cut on his neck.

“I’ve been through worse, don’t worry about me.” Ghost assured you as he pushed the closet door open with his foot. “You should see yourself.”

You grunted maybe out of pain or exhaustion when you were reminded of the serious state you were in. Your eyes were barely able to stay open as he maneuvered through the halls again.

“Thought you were dead.”

“Hurts too much for that.”

Ghost clenched his jaw tightly, making a mental note that when you both got out here to find the fuckers. He would request a solo mission when he got off leave just for the purpose of finding the other weapons dealer. They may have been able to capture him this one time but they made the mistake of not killing him before he got out.

He quickened his pace down the hall, hoping to find some sort of indication of where he was going. There were no signs, the walls were so empty that he wondered if maybe he was going in circles. He huffed and hoped that wasn’t the case.

A yell echoed off the walls, not too far from where he stood, and he instinctively tightened his grip on you. You winced and he wanted to apologize but he was now on high alert as he listened to the angry voices that were impossible to tell where they were coming from.

He was an expert at this. It was his job to sweep the halls and be prepared for everything, to know when someone could be next or when he was approaching an enemy. His hyper awareness of his surroundings was second nature and yet he had gotten into this situation and he was struggling to put those skills back into use.

He was distracted by his aching muscles and screaming wounds that stained his dirty clothes. His mind raced with trying to keep track of where he was and keeping you safe.

You were taking up most of his mind too. He was trying to not hurt you, to jostle you around and make your wounds worse while trying to hightail it out of there so you could get the help that you needed. He was being too kind to your wounds in a situation like this, his military training of just getting the person out and dealing with the aftermath completely gone from his mind.

There were too many things on his mind and he wasn’t able to control it like he usually did.

It was going to get you both killed, but he couldn’t do it and that’s how he knew he needed to get out there quick. He wasn’t in any shape to be doing this yet if he had waited any longer then you both could’ve died as well. Overall, the situation you both were in was the worst case scenario that no one wanted to be in while working this job.

“Need you to hold onto me and not let go.” Ghost told you and though you had been doing that already, he wanted to make sure you were going to do it when he would need to run away.

“Okay.” You said through gritted teeth as his fingers dug into a particularly sore spot on your side.

Once you tightened your hold around him, enough to where it made him flinch from the pain, he began to jog down the hallway. Despite his quick movements and being as massive as he was, his footsteps were still light enough that it would be difficult to hear him.

He hoped that at some point he would come across a window or a room he could stop in to look for information. He couldn’t keep going around the base full of enemies who would most likely kill on sight blind. Every moment he spent wandering through the halls he was taking a gamble with death.

His ears heard it before he could register it.

Footsteps from around the corner, fast ones that came up onto him far too quickly for him to turn and run the other direction. He barely had time to react when three men rounded the corner.

One of the men didn’t hesitate to slam his fist into Ghost's jaw even after they were startled by seeing him. Ghost stumbled back and tried to hold onto you but the man practically ripped you out of his arms to throw you on the ground.

He was pushed back into the wall, becoming disoriented by the barrage of punches to his sore head, unable to throw any punches back himself.

You were trying your best to fight one of the other guards who had trapped you on the floor underneath as he laid waste to you but your injuries made it extremely difficult to do anything, all the while the other man carefully watched.

Ghost managed to get one good punch to the man jugular before he pulled the knife out of his pocket. He stabbed it through the man’s neck, jamming in it as far as he could while he choked on his blood, before he threw him on the ground.

He didn’t hesitate to throw the knife at the man on top of you, hitting him right in the neck.

With the last of your strength you pushed the guard off you and sliced the knife across his throat.

“Y/n!” Ghost called out to you when he watched you go limp before he turned his attention on the other man.

He saw red again when he realized it was the other weapons dealer. He clenched his fists and charged towards the weapons dealer. He noticed the gun that was pointed at him but he was too focused on the hidden look of fear in the man's eyes as he sprinted towards him.

The weapons dealer pulled the trigger and hit Ghost in the thigh, but that didn’t stop him. Nothing but a bullet to the head was going to stop him from his determination to kill the man in front of him.

Ghost grabbed the man by the wrist to twist it and the gun went off in his ear. He wasted no time to punch him as hard as he could, the ringing in his ears spurring him on. He slammed his fist into his face as hard as he could, feeling his knuckles crack from the force.

He lifted his good leg and kicked the man’s knee cap in, causing them both to fall to the floor. The weapons dealer tried to roll out from under him but Ghost grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into the concrete repeatedly to stop him.

He was feral, blinded by rage, harming the man in front of him not out of survival but out of passionate revenge. Memories of your screams made him go crazy as he wrapped his hands around the weapons dealer neck. Every cry replayed in his mind along with the image of your damaged body causing him to squeeze hard while the man struggled underneath him.

If Ghost could see himself he would be unrecognizable. Your pain had resurfaced an old evil within him that hadn’t seen the light of day since he adopted his new name. It brought the monster that was obsessed with violence and the death of anyone who dared to lay a harmful hand on him or the one he loved.

There was a reason why this side of him had been put out of commission. He hated the scalding hotness that raced through his veins, the tightness in his throat, and the way he felt out of control. It was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

The weapons dealer’s body went limp. It took a moment for Ghost to realize he was dead but when he saw that he was no longer writhing underneath him, he released his hands.

Ghost was breathing heavily as he stared down at the dead body underneath him. His vision blackened and whitened, hot liquid running down his leg and staining his dirty pants with fresh blood. He felt dizzy from the blows to his head and the rapid blood loss which made it hard for him to get up from the floor.

He clenched his teeth, almost breaking them as he crawled his way to you. He bit back any groans as he came up to you, placing his fingers on your pulse.

It was weak, almost non-existent, but still there. That was enough to keep him going.

He cradled your head with hands that had just committed atrocities so gently. He stared down at the blood pouring out of your nose and the new bruises that were already forming. He hoped for your sake that your face wasn’t broken.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He assured you even though you were unconscious. He carefully pulled you into his arms again and held onto you securely. “Gonna get you out of here. Gonna patch you up, make you okay.”

His words were slurred and he was blabbering. The blood loss was getting to him and he knew if he didn’t try to move now, both of you were going to die.

Ghost braced himself, taking a deep breath and stood up on shaky legs. He couldn’t hold back the groan of pain that ripped through his throat. He took shallow breaths, his skin getting sweaty and cold before he resumed down the hall as if nothing had happened.

He limped down the cold, ugly hallways and left a trail of blood in his wake. Every step felt like the bullet wound grew bigger, ripping his skin apart until there was nothing left.

He didn’t care. The only thing on his mind was you.

You. Just you.

Your poor state. Your conscious body as it hung limp in his arms, covered in dirt, blood, grime. Hours, days worth of pain that would never go away that would forever soil your mind and body with scars. You could be dead in his arms, having bled out internally and he wouldn’t know until he got out of there.

“You’re okay.” He mumbled to push those thoughts away. “You’re okay…”

Ghost kept repeating it to himself like a mantra. It helped him keep the little amount of strength he had to keep you in his arms when he heard rapid footsteps echo off the halls again.

He was prepared to run or try to at least. He was prepared to fight until he was shot through if it meant you would somehow survive.

“Simon!”

He knew that voice. The rough, commanding voice belonged to Price and he had never been happier to hear him bark out his name. He felt like he could breathe again as he stopped in his tracks.

He was lucky that Price had finally found them and he wondered if maybe that’s what spurred on the sudden yelling from the base. Honestly he didn’t care at the moment. You were getting out of that hell hole and neither of you had to ever step foot back in it. He nearly collapsed as he heard his team’s footsteps get closer but he held on as he swallowed thickly.

He blinked the blurriness from his eyes and looked ahead of him seeing the rest of the task force armed to the teeth rushing towards him.

“Take her.” That was the first thing he said to them as they approached him and he held you out.

Gaz quickly took you from his arm, holding you close to him before he raced down the hall following behind Price who was already commanding a plan to get out of there.

Ghost watched after them, missing the comforting weight of you in his arms and finding himself much lighter without you. He wished he had the strength to carry you himself but he could hardly walk forward without stumbling which prompted Soap to wrap his arm around his shoulder.

Soap took most of his weight as they both walked down the hall.

“Johnny.” He weakly said as his vision began to spin, his fingers digging into his shirt.

“I got you L.t.” Soap assured him as he pushed forward.

Ghost suddenly felt too heavy to walk anymore. All of his strength was gone now that he didn’t have to worry about you. You were safe and now he could finally go to sleep. His vision went spotted with black dots before his knees buckled underneath him.

“Ghost!”

Ghost woke up with a start. The first thing he noticed was the dull ache he felt all over his body, the brunt of it taken away by what he could only assume were heavy pain meds.

“Morning.” He looked to his right to see Soap sitting on a chair next to his bed with a small smile. “How you feelin’ L.t?”

“Ask me later.” His voice was hoarse and his throat was scratchy, causing Soap to hand him a glass of water with a chuckle.

He drank the water, finding that as soon as it touched his mouth he was incredibly thirsty. He chugged it, finding that even though it wasn’t cold it was the most refreshing thing he had in months.

When he was finished Soap took the glass from him and refilled it from a pitcher that sat on a table next to his bed. He handed the glass back to him and watched with slight worry as he began to chug it again. While he did he looked at the room around them..

He was lying in a hospital bed. The usual hard mattress and uncomfortable blankets were anything but that as he felt himself sink deep into them, finding a safe warmth in them. He was connected to various machines that beeped in tandem with his heart while his body was covered in stitches and sterile white bandages.

His hand was already in a cast and his leg was propped up on a fluffy pillow.

He was in the infirmary back on base. He was safe from harm.

“You're a beast, you know that?” Soap said as he took the glass back when he was finished. “Breakin’ out and running through the base with a bullet in your leg.”

“Had to. If I didn’t, we might’ve died-”

His heart stopped. His eyes searched around the infirmary frantically as he attempted to get out of bed to go look for you but Soap put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Easy. She’s okay.” He assured him before he jutted his chin across from him.

Ghost looked over and his gaze softened immediately.

You were sleeping in the bed next to him. You were hooked up to the same machines as him but you were bandaged up a lot more. He watched your chest rise from your steady breathing, finding himself mimicking it as his shoulders relaxed. You looked peaceful and deep in sleep, most likely from copious amounts of pain meds the doctor gave you.

He laid back on the bed, his eyes never leaving you.

“She was in worse condition than you.” Soap began as he eyed you both. “Broken ribs, other bones, major concussion, internal bleeding. Been sleeping ever since we picked you both up.”

Ghost swallowed thickly. He couldn’t even begin to describe the pit that formed in his stomach as he watched you. As much as he wanted to rationalize that the guilt he felt wasn’t warranted, his mind wouldn’t let him get rid of it.

He had almost indirectly killed you. He wouldn’t forgive himself if that had happened.

“How long?” He mumbled and heard Soap let out a deep sigh.

“About a week.” Soap said and he shook his head.

“Fucking hell…”

It had certainly felt longer than a week. Those long hours of torture and the short periods of recuperation between them had felt like an eternity. He remembered how every hour that passed by had been a month. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Soap had told him that, but knowing that so much damage had been inflicted on you both in a matter of a week made the pit in his stomach worse.

He couldn’t imagine how long it felt for you.

The physical toll this was going to take on you would hopefully clear up and not become long term but he knew your mental would most likely take the biggest hit.

“Price is puttin’ both you on leave for a while.” Soap caught his attention and he looked back at him. “He won’t admit it out loud, but he’s worried.”

“Guess that’s expected.” Ghost huffed and shut his eyes for a moment. Even though he knew it was the right call, considering the extent of the injuries you both had suffered, he absolutely hated the idea of having to stay on base, or worse, go back home. He would be forced to take it easy, to not do anything strenuous which meant he would be stuck doing absolutely nothing. It was the perfect opportunity for him to think too much.

He couldn’t hide himself in his work like he normally did. Hell, he probably wouldn’t be able to hide himself in any of the hobbies he had that he rarely participated in.

A heavy sigh left his chest and he rubbed his eyes. He would have to deal with the hell he was going to put himself through, he was used to it, but that didn’t mean it was going to be easy.

“Here.” Soap tossed one of Ghost’s spare masks on his lap. “Figured you might want it.”

Ghost picked up the mask and looked at the black material. It was just one of his simple balaclavas and in any other moment he would’ve put it on so at least he felt some sense of security in the midst of all of this. However when he glanced at you, something in him told him to wait.

“Thanks, Johnny.” He watched as his friend gave him a small smile and patted him on the shoulder.

“Get some rest, L.t.” Soap stood up and pushed the chair out of the way.

Ghost watched him leave before he turned his attention back to you. You were the only thing he really wanted to look at in the infirmary, finding that you distracted him from the annoying beeps of the machines and the sterile walls that surrounded you both.

This wasn’t the first time that Ghost had found himself watching you as you slept.

Most of the time his attention was elsewhere when you both were on missions. He always took first watch on missions that spanned more than one day since he struggled to fall asleep as quickly as you. His eyes would wander to you when nothing in particular was happening and he was immensely intrigued by your ability to seemingly sleep peacefully no matter the situation.

He almost envied you. It took a while for him to take control of his thoughts when he laid down to sleep and yet the moment you shut your eyes you were gone.

Even now you seemed to be the most comfortable he had seen you in a week or even a month.

It was most likely the meds, but that didn’t stop the sense of comfort he felt as your chest rose and fell slowly.

Ghost toyed with the mask in his hand. His eyes bounced around your relaxed face and he let out a soft sigh that made him sink further into the mattress. He wanted to be awake when you woke up, but his eyelids started to get too heavy for him to keep open.

You had that effect on him and you didn’t even know.

In his sick, twisted mind he hoped he had the same effect on you. He hoped that he gave you a similar comfort and safety that you gave him despite the fact that he was a ruthless killer. Even after all he’d done in the enemy’s base, the cold blood murders he committed, he hoped that somehow you were happy to have him around you.

He was sure the moment you woke up he would too. And when he did he would make sure that you knew you were safe.

He always would.

A/N: Part 2? Also this is way longer than I had expected lol

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod ghost #ghost mw2

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bladeofthestars · 2 years

Text

#tentatively hanging out wednesday which is close to his birthday #if the tifu WAS him and he like. tells me about it when we hang out. idk what i'll do #i could pretend to not have known but am chill about it even tho i don't feel chill about it #or i could be like 'yah i've known for weeks bc you're a dingus who put it on the web'#still the possibility it's not him #his birthday coming up and a friend's as well AND mine but i have like zero money #the friend i'm seeing this weekend and it's that friend group that has previously made me feel awful #i'm pretty sure anticipating the visit last week is what kicked off this multi week long anxiety attack #anyway seeing them again saturday and like i have no gift and prolly won't get one which makes me anxious #and prolly won't bring anything for my ex's bday when i see him either bc like #1. ex 2. he would always ask me what i wanted for bday/christmas and then. just not get anything??#like it's fine and receiving gifts is pretty low on my love languages #but don't act like you're gonna if you're not lmao #anyway old water under dilapidated bridges #but not having a gift to bring makes me anxious bc it's a normal person thing to bring gifts #i've been hardcore dissociating for a couple if days now but *still* somehow anxious which like #usually if i gotta deal with dissociating i ain't gotta deal with much other feeling. seems like my brain's whole goal with that.#so this feels supremely unfair #feeling progressively physically worse from all this #wish i could stop shitting out my entire guts when i have a little too long to think about my life #i'm trying so hard to be better okay

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melonn-soda · 8 days

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❝GIDDY UP & GO!!... ❞

word count: 3.3k

warnings: subbot! male reader, domtop! boothill, genitals are not explicitly mentioned, grinding, no actual penetration, unnecessary descriptions how much there is of spit (sorry if ur not into that), predator/prey if u squint, nd gunplay if u squint really really hard (is implied), lots of pentnames, praise, save a horse ride a cowboy but I change a factor, cowboy hat rule because RRGHGHGRHRGHHGHGHG

prompt: boothill has made it his life mission to cash in the money he gets when he lands you behind bars. however, when it becomes apparent as to why you let him pursue you, he begins to chase you for an entirely different reason

notes: lost 50/50 to yanqing (he's still my kid nd I love him regardless YANQING HATERS LEAVE!!!!) when wishing for aventurine. now I'm pulling for boothill if I don't get my little gambler (if Sunday is playable and better than boothill then im sorry to my fav cowboy yeehaw) not beta read

fem aligned dni

“Oh, my.”

Boothill hates your guts. That’s a given.

He hates the way you carry yourself, the sly remarks you’ll make if you spot even one hint of insecurity, the slight draw on certain syllables to give a mocking tone- you, in general. Although he’s more on the bothering side than the bothered, you’re just so much more annoying than he thought even possible. Guess that’s why you’re known as a high-end bandit.

He’s been on your tail for weeks, chasing any leads (a lot of them, like you wanted the chase) he could get his hands on. He’s even seen you slinking around taverns, poker tables, run-down hotels- for fucks’ sake, even on horseback racing down a dirt path while attempting to rob a moving train. To feel the satisfaction of seeing the credits Boothill would obtain after putting you behind bars is all he wants to experience because this is just getting ridiculous.

So, why the hell now, is he bound up to the ceiling with chains thicker than his own ankle after finding your base?

The amused smile finds its way upon your lips and Boothill wants to do nothing more than to kick it right off. You were in a vulnerable position before he decided to sneak in, with your chair tipped as your feet were kicked up on a busted wooden table, a bandana resting over your eyes to block out the sunlight that dared to drift into the room. Boothill made the dumbest mistake by alerting you of his presence through triggering a well hidden trip-wire. Perking you up, you began to rise from your seat, swiftly removing the bandana from your eyes and fingers instinctively on the handle of your revolver that sat on the gun holster strapped to your thigh. The trap triggered so fast, Boothill’s sensors barely had time to react to it before the ‘snap!’s and ‘crack!’s echoed throughout the room and he was pressed against the ceiling within seconds.

Sharp glares were stabbing through your form as your hand rested on your hip as you whistled, looking up at the ranger in slight surprise and smugness. Aeons, he hated you.

“Wow, such a reckless move to jus’ prance yer way in here, no? Hey, aren't cha a Galaxy Ranger or somethin’?” You tease, swiveling your chair so that you could sit backwards on it, crossing your arms atop of the back rest so you could rest your chin on your forearms, “Surely, ya coulda suspected that I woulda set up a trap. But why waste all yer precious time on someone as measly as me? I ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ ol’ bandit.”

“You better seal yer pretty lil’ lips, doll.” Boothill hisses at you, his voicebank glitching to censor the words he so desperately wanted to say, “My bullets don’t take too kindly to sweet talkers n’ foxes.”

A laugh echoes throughout the falling apart structure then settles into a hum as you stand up and kick the chair against the wall, “Ya sure like to talk big. Kinda fits ya, though.” The chair slams right under Boothill and you slowly make your way towards it, the clinking of spurs on your boots highlighting every step you take.

Looking up at the suspended robot, your left foot raises and rests on the seat, leaning in to provoke the cyborg even further, “It’s kinda cute how ya keep pursuin’ me despite all these failed attempts. How ‘bout I give ya more of a reason to keep chasin’ me than only doin’ it for jus’ the credits?”

Boothill’s eyebrows creased in suspicion as your hand raises up to his face, contemplating just biting your fingers straight off until he hears the click of the safety and a metal barrel against the human skin of his jaw. His teeth clench in anger as you nearly laugh at his compliance, reaching above his head and snatching his hat right off.

Oh, he was going to kill you for sure-

The hat plops onto your head and you wink at him while sticking your tongue out.

What.

There wasn’t-

There was no way.

“Catch me if ya can, cowboy.” You say dismissively, briskly turning around and walking out of the rundown hideout. However, before you could get out of his line of sight, your head turned to face him and you said, “I’ll be waitin’. As always.”

Dumbfounded and a half an hour later collapsed on the floor from the wooden boards snapping- which loosened the chains, he replays that minute over and over again. He didn’t want to believe that had actually happened but his memory told him otherwise.

There was no way that you...

Whatever. He’ll think about it later. He needs to get his damn hat back.

The first time Boothill finds you, it’s in a more forest-y area. You’re on your trusty steed, talking to some other criminals with little interest. The cowboy watches the interaction, paying special attention to your reactions to see if you’ve noticed his presence. From what he could tell, you didn’t seem to see that he was watching while using the shrubbery to cover him and the horse he was on. The people you were talking to he recognized from some wanted posters, only worth some credits. Not as much as your bounty, though.

...

...You’re still wearing his hat.

“Look, partner,” Your voice dips into an exhausted, low, sigh, “I need that shipment as soon as possible, ya hear? I ain’t got too much time left before she’s reached her time. Ion care how ya get it, I need it in at least a week! Otherwise she’ll get real snappy and I’m gonna hafta put some lead in some poor person's head.”

One of the bandits flashes a worried look to another, “Boss, ya don’t understand! The Xianshou Luofu’s been havin’ sum sorta delay! We ain’t gonna get those packages ‘til some long period of time!”

Boothill’s interest peaks as you begin to snap, “Did ya not hear me? I said, ‘Ion care how ya get them!’ Find a way! Talk to that Trailblazer everyone’s been praisin’ about or somethin’! Jus’ get me my stuff before ‘m gonna start blowin’ some brains out-”

A rustle causes you to pause your sentence as you draw your weapon immediately, the barrel facing his direction and bullets fly. Boothill’s horse had begun to munch on the bush, which gave away his position, but thankfully he moved quick enough to get out of the way.

You decided to book it when you caught sight of the familiar white and black hair, spurs hitting the sides of your horse as you begin to get out of the area to leave nothing but a trail of dust. Boothill doesn’t hesitate to race after you, whipping the reins of his horse to get her going.

Branches and twigs tug at Boothill’s hair as he chases you through the forest, lowering his torso so that he could lessen the wind resistance as his horse’s hooves slam against the ground. You’re quite the distance away, mostly because your horse is pretty speedy. It’s how you get away from crime scenes so fast. However, Nellie, the horse Boothill is riding currently, is also quite fast.

Although, not fast enough because in the end, he still loses you.

The curses he spits all get censored immediately as he slows into a stop, head turning in every direction to see if you left any trail behind. Only to see none. Didn’t expect as much from a skilled criminal.

The second time he spots you is in the tavern, playing a game of poker with people that had their pockets stuffed full of cash. ‘Rich folk,’ Boothill grimaces as he could see them tilt their chin up like the world owes them something. If you rob them, he won’t feel even a sliver of remorse.

He knows that you can see him as he leans against the wall to watch the match, some of the rich getting intensively frustrated as they begin to fold after betting so high. Judging by the scheming smile on your face, he could tell you have a winning hand. Then again, when are you never smiling like you have something up your sleeve?

Finally, in the showdown, you and the person you’re going up against reveal your cards and you win with a four of a kind. Lucky.

The people at the table groan and push their chips in your direction, getting up to leave as their attitudes have just been soured over that singular match. Boothill takes the opportunity to walk over to you and remove the gun from his holster and press it right up against your lower back, hand coming up to snatch his hat that rests atop your head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A window shatters behind him and he could hear flames begin to roar but he doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from you. Only when he feels cold metal press against the nape of his neck does his actions falter and his eyes turn to face whoever decided to draw their weapon.

He blinks in shock to see a figure completely made of water, his gaze returning to you and seeing you sitting on the edge of the table with your gun pressed against his forehead. Shit. He’s lost again.

The tavern completely surrenders to the flames as people scream at the sight of fire, swallowing up the alcohol and wood. Boothill can hear his fans whirring to prevent himself from overheating but the attempt is futile as the room begins to get unbearably hot. He’s not sure if it’s just the fire that’s causing him to overheat or it’s because you look insanely good with all this red and orange light.

...

What is he even thinking right now?

“Y’know, it’s gettin’ real fun toyin’ with ya, cowboy.” You speak, completely unbothered by all the heat in the building. He can’t even see a single drop of sweat on your face. Even so, you continue, “But I think ya can do a little better than this.”

The ranger’s lips purse in offense, glaring at you as best as he could. The gun you had pointed lazily at his forehead falls to the floor and Boothill isn’t sure how long he can last in this heat. Before his system could finally shut down because of overheating, he could feel your lips press against the area where your gun was pressed up against. Then, he falls over as his system forcibly turns him off.

The third time Boothill sees you, he’s lying on a metal workbench with cold water floating above him and fans blowing in his direction. He’s confused, obviously, and on his toes as he realizes he’s not in an area he’s not familiar with. He attempts to sit up to find a way to escape only to realize that he can’t move his arm. Now, he’s terrified.

“Relax, cowboy.” Your voice coos from behind a computer, typing away at something as you're taking a tip from a glass. Presumably water. “I’m cooling ya off. You’re welcome... You should be able to move now.”

Boothill shoots up from his spot and rips off the cables that are attached to his left arm, head darting around to look for his gun. He hears a click and once again finds himself with a gun pressed up against his jaw.

“Lookin’ for this?”

The crosshair that replaces his once human pupils flit over to your direction, noticing that you were holding his revolver in your dominant hand. Boothill swears that you must like pointing a barrel in his direction for how many times this has been done. He also sees that you’re wearing his very cropped jacket over your usual attire. ... And you’re still wearing his hat.

“That’s mine, pretty boy.” The ranger gives you a half-assed growl as his censor kicks in once more, already getting annoyed at your sly behaviour, “Ya really got a knack for takin’ stuff that’s not yours, huh? No wonder yer a criminal.”

You giggle at his words, tossing his gun on the metal workbench, “It’s not loaded, neither is your little gun hand.” You tell him, like he was going to start unloading mags into your skin. Turning around, you walk back to your computer and open up a drawer on the desk it sits on, “Well?” You ask after a momentary silence, leaning on one of your legs as you crack open a bottle of whiskey and begin to pour it into your empty glass.

“‘Well’, what?” Boothill narrows his eyes at you, picking up his revolver and shoving it back into his thigh holster. He’ll just have to go to the nearest mechant and buy more bullets.

“Ain’t ya gonna, I don’t know, take yer hat back?” You ask him, taking a sip of the alcohol that gives a slight burn down your throat, “We’re in an enclosed space, barely any room t’move around, exit’s right behind ya ‘n all. Perfect chance t’arrest me, if I dare so say m’self.”

He blinks. There’s got to be some sort of trap if the setup is this perfect. He’s not going to make the same mistake he did before, not again. So, his sensors scan the room quickly, which leaves you unamused, and he sees that there are in fact no traps in this room. Boothill almost doesn’t want to believe it.

“Are ya playin’ some sort of game with me?” Boothill’s eyes begin to squint in suspicion, carefully trying to think of a situation you might pull that puts him on the losing end of the stick, “Yer jus’ gonna let yourself get arrested? Jus’ like that?”

“What? Ya don’t wanna do it? Too scared?” You taunt him again, causing the cowboy’s circuits to boil in animosity.

“Ya know what?” Boothill smiles a tense one, taking long, menacing steps in your direction, “I’ve ‘bout had it with your attitude, pretty boy. Seems like ya didn’t have anybody ta teach ya proper manners.” All of a sudden, you felt yourself being slammed up against the wall behind you with a grunt, Boothill’s right hand keeping your wrists together and his left hand tilting your chin up to look at him, his eyes glowing a dangerous red, “I mean, after that stunt ya pulled in yer lil’ base, it seems like ya wanna be caught by me.”

“Hah.. guilty as charged.” You laugh, attempting to keep your smooth facade up, only for it to crack once you could feel his metal knee nudge between your thighs. A whine rips through your throat as he keeps his knee still, not bothering to give you the pleasure you oh so wanted from the day you saw him.

“How ‘bout it, doll?” Boothill sneers at your pathetic expression, lips getting dangerously close to yours, “I can give ya a better punishment than jail could.”

One thing’s for sure: Boothill’s mechanical body does not have any built in... pleasure devices, he’s nearly as smooth as a doll. However, there is a slightly large bump on his pelvis in the shape of an oval that if you were to grind just right up against, you’ll-

“O-oh!”

Boothill’s lips curve up into a smirk as he sees you push down hard against his metallic form, trying to settle your trembles by wrapping your arms tightly around his neck to stabilize yourself. It’s cute, he thinks, seeing you all desperate for sexual relief. The way you hopelessly cling to him like he’s the last thing keeping you alive. He can’t believe he actually thought about putting you behind bars if getting you wrapped around his finger was this satisfying.

“How’s it feel, pretty boy?” Boothill whispers in your ear, causing a shiver to rack your spine as his grip adjusts to settle on your lower waist, pushing you even further against him, “Feel like yer gonna explode yet?”

Whimpering in response, your shaky fingertips grip onto his shoulders as your forehead now presses against his. Soft pants fill the room and Boothill can practically see the hearts in your eyes as your hips continue to move against his. You both still have your clothes on but this all still feels so intimate, probably better than actual penetration.

The ranger’s hand reaches up to tug his hat that still rests on your head, fixing it back from its tilted state, “Ya look like ya wanna kiss, doll.” He teases, bringing your chin closer to the point where your noses brushed up against one another.

“Pl-please..” You say breathily, gently tugging at his hair.

“Attaboy.” Boothill snickers in response, “Looks like yer finally learning.” His freakishly long tongue slithers past his lips as soon as they press against yours, slipping into your mouth as saliva begins to spill down your chin. Aeons, you’re just so cute.

Soft moans are swallowed up by Boothill’s greedy mouth, his thumb coming up to pull against your bottom lip before he pulls away and the only thing that connects your mouths is the thin trail of spit. His robotic thumb pushes into your mouth, pressing against your tongue as drool continues to spill down your pretty lips. He could get used to this.

He notices how much faster your hips move, calculating that you were close as whines and whimpers flood the room. The smile on Boothill’s face only widens even further, bumping his hips up to catch you off guard. He knows he succeeds when he hears a shaky squeak come from your mouth.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy? Ya gonna bust?” The ranger sneers, the thumb in your mouth shifting so he widens your lips by pushing at the sides, “Y’know, I could easily deny ya of that relief. Ya kinda deserve it for teasin’ me this whole time.”

You shake your head violently, already too close to be pulled away now. Boothill snickers in response, “No? What makes ya think you can tell me what to do?” A pleading look flashes across your features and Boothill has half the decency to make you beg for release. He decides to have mercy on you, though, “Mmmn, I mean, I guess ya have been pretty obedient. Go on and blow yer load f’me, pretty.”

With a shudder and a slight bite on Boothill’s metal thumb, your pants get soaked in your fluids, staining the fabric. Your hips jerk a couple of times to ride out your orgasm then you started slumping onto his chest in exhaustion. Boothill’s other hand rubs at your hip to soothe you, letting you rest in place to calm the trembles that still cause your body to twitch in overstimulation.

“Good boy.” He says softly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, watching as it dripped since it was slick with your spit. Letting you catch your breath for a moment, he waits before he decides to ask, “So, what package were ya waitin’ for?”

“Baby stuff.” You sigh, face burying into Boothill’s neck, “My sister’s expecting ‘nd her wife’s been tellin’ me to get that stuff as soon as possible. The Luofu has been delaying their packages for a bit, somethin’ about shippin’ difficulties. Can’t believe ya’d remember something like that, though.”

The cowboy huffs in response, “Bein’ a cyborg’s got some perks. The only bad part is that ion got a dick to fuck ya with. Woulda been nice to see ya unable to walk for a few days.”

You sit up and give him a weird look, hands resting on his shoulders, “Ya do know strap-ons exist, right?” The way you said that made him feel much stupider, like you were pointing out the obvious to him.

“...Oh.” Boothill’s face flushes embarrassingly hot as his fans kick in once more.

Aeons, he hated you.

#x male reader #male reader #x bottom male reader #bottom male reader #hsr x male reader #hsr x reader #hsr boothill #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill x male reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader

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pinkie-pop · 2 months

Text

"Reincarnated As The Cringefail Lord of Hell's Second Child."

Part I Part II Part III

Sequel to this.

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Morningstar!Reader, Platonic Hazbin Hotel x Reader, Yandere Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: 3.2k

Includes: No applicable warnings for this installment

Synopsis: A straightforward isekai story, you're reborn as the devil's child. With knowledge of your past life and the show your new world is based on, it's clear that you must be destined for greatness. The only question remains: why does everyone around you seem to be acting so...strange?

•~•~•~•~•~•

You remember Lilith as a caring mother.

For the short period of time that she was in your life, you never once felt unloved. Even when you were suspicious of her, even when you tried to turn away from her, she always gazed at you with utmost adoration. Then, six months later, she stopped gazing at you at all. Six months later, she disappeared entirely.

Lucifer handled her sudden departure about as well as one could have. You didn't see him that much during the six months in which your mother was present, but you could tell they were in a rough patch. They never fought, never hit or insulted, but they were awkward in a way that was hard to describe. It showed in the way Lucifer gazed at her, in the way Lilith would break eye contact, in the way she never handed you over to him without his explicit asking. You suppose that must be why Lucifer has hardly changed even after his wife left without warning—to him, she had already left a long, long time ago.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Being a single father to two children isn't easy, even if one of them is already grown up. A child is never fully grown in the eyes of their parents, no matter how many centuries pass them by.

You were always a little too mature for your age. It made it hard to be a dad, Lucifer thought. After all, how could he raise someone who acted as if they had already led a full life some many years ago?

Before Lucifer could blink, seven years had already passed him by, and yet his youngest had not seemed to age a day. It was as if you had stopped growing a long time ago. It was as if you were born an adult. Your physical body was the only indicator of your progress. It scared him, honestly. Before you could even walk, you were crawling to the library and reading grimoires as old as the demon who owned them. Lucifer wishes he could dismiss it as a child simply playing with a toy, but something deep in his gut told him that you understood every word. This theory proved true when you started practicing magic mere months later. Your progress was astounding, unlike anything he'd ever seen.

You…weren't normal. But every so often, you'd look up at him with your big, round eyes and smile, and you'd feel like a kid again. Lucifer would become aware of how rounded your cheeks and small your body was, and suddenly, the unease would vanish. That's right. No matter what, you were still only seven. The same seven-year-old who brought their teddy bear everywhere they went, who'd play with Razzle and Dazzle, just barely starting to be taller than said sheep.

Despite everything, you were still his child.

Lucifer’s phone buzzes, momentarily taking him out of his musings.

It's Charlie.

Wait…Charlie?! Charlie never calls him! Oh no, what should he say? It has to be perfect, it has to be—

“Hey, bitch,” he says. Perfect.

“Hey, Dad,” Charlie says awkwardly, the sound of her pacing echoing through the speakers. She seems nervous, it makes Lucifer's heart ache. He wants so badly to reach out through the phone and comfort her, but he can't even muster up the courage to ask what's wrong. He kicks a duck across his workshop, the sound of it's squeaking echoing across the room. “So, I had a favor to ask you...” The sound of pacing stops, and Lucifer waits with bated breath.

“Sure, anything,” he says. “Anything you want.” Charlie explains the situation to him. She runs a hotel now, apparently. Why didn't she tell him sooner? The thought of her not trusting him with it ate at his pride, but he set his feelings aside and resolved to just listen. Charlie invites him to check out her hotel, and it dawns on him that this is the first time she's ever invited him over. The weight of her invitation is not lost on him. Eagerly, he responds, “I'll be there in an hour!” then hangs up.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Despite your maturity, you're still too young to be left home alone (in Lucifer's eyes, at least), so Lucifer takes you with him to the hotel. He's sure Charlie will be thrilled to see you again—the two of you have always been fond of each other.

The hotel looks pretty much as it did in the show, with the only difference now being the large banner hanging from the stairway reading “Welcome, Dad!”. Charlie is there to greet the two of you at the door, and you can see the rest of the cast hanging around in the distance.

“[Name]!” Charlie says, running to pick you up and hug you as Lucifer stands awkwardly to the side. “I didn’t know you were coming, or I would have added your name to the sign!” When Charlie is done nuzzling your face, she and Lucifer share an awkward hug of their own. “I’m so glad you guys could make it. Let me show you around!” Charlie holds your hand and guides the two of you to the bar first, where Husk is there downing another bottle of cheap booze.

“Who’s the pipsqueak?” He says between gulps. “I don’t like kids.”

“Look at their face, hot stuff,” Angel replies, leaning over the counter with a lazy grin. “Think you just insulted royalty.”

“Hello!” you say, craning your neck up to see them. “I’m [Name]! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Aw, look at that smile,” Angel coos, picking you up by the armpits. “Musta inherited that from ‘er Mom.”

“What makes you say that?” You tilt your head. As far as you know, you inherited most of your traits from your father.

“Look at ‘im,” Angel says, nodding towards Lucifer, who’s wearing the nastiest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Dad, are you okay over there?”

“I’d be fine if that filth were to put you down, sweetie,” he says.

“Hey! I am not ‘filth’! People pay big money just to be in the same room as me, you know!” Lucifer walks over and snatches you from his grip. The two of them exchange insults back and forth. Seeing as this might take a while, you climb down from your Dad’s arms and start looking around.

“Why, hello there, little one,” Alastor says, materializing beside you. He reaches a hand out to shake, then excitedly swings your arm up and down when you give it. “You must be [Name]. Pleasure to be meeting you, dear! Quite a pleasure! Our dear Charlie has told us quite a bit about you,” he says, still shaking your arm.

“She has?” You say, glancing over to Charlie, who’s busy trying to defuse the tension between your father and Angel Dust.

“Yes, indeedy!” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and spinning you around. “And since our dear Princess is so busy with her father and our tenant, I shall take it upon myself to show you around. Isn’t that just grand?” Alastor doesn’t bother waiting for a reply before dragging you by the arm towards the staircase, only to be stopped by Vaggie who quickly blocks the path.

“Oh no you don’t,” she says, brandishing her spear. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you are going nowhere with them.” Alastor grins but relents, dropping your arm and disappearing. Creepy.

“Are you okay?” Vaggie asks, kneeling down to your height. You nod but hold the spot where the Radio Demon had grabbed you as if worried it might be bruised. Vaggie checks to see if it is but sees no signs of any bruise or injury forming on your small arm. That’s a relief, at least.

“Hah!” You and Vaggie snap around at the sound of thunderous laughter coming from the bar. The two of you are greeted by an odd sight—Lucifer and Angel Dust embraced together in a stiff hug, while Charlie looks on, seemingly pleased with herself. You aren’t sure how she pulled it off, but you suppose she must have succeeded in de-escalating the fight between those two.

“Oh, I see you’ve met my girlfriend!” Charlie says, walking over to you.

“Your girlfriend?” Lucifer says, quickly untangling himself from Angel. “You like girls? S-so do I! We have so much in common!” He says, pointing his finger from himself to Charlie in a repetitive manner.

“It’s uh- it's nice to meet you. Sir,” Vaggie says, standing up to shake Lucifer’s hand. To which he grabs her hand but then quickly pulls her in for a brief hug. The hug seems to blindside Vaggie momentarily and ends before she can return it. Still, she doesn’t seem unhappy about it.

“I’m Niffty!” Comes a voice from your right. Sure enough, it’s Niffty who’s come to see you next. “You’re taller than me, even though I’m older. That’s fine, though! I don’t mind at all!” She says, stabbing at a nearby roach with her needle, a crazed look in her eye.

You shuffle away from Niffty…

…And bump right into Sir Pentious on the way.

“Oh, h-hello there,” he says, looking oddly nervous. “Ssorry, I uh…I do not know how to eh, conversse with people of your kind.” You blink at him, and he grabs his collar as if sweaty.

“By ‘people of your kind’ do you mean…kids?” You ask. Pentious nods. “Just talk to me how you would everyone else. If it helps, you can think of me like how you think of Niffty?”

“Sscary…?”

“I meant more like…a short person,” Niffty runs past you briefly, stabbing at another roach with her needle, “-but I get where you’re coming from,” you say.

The rest of the day follows more or less the same beats as the episode it was based on. Lucifer and Alastor have unexplained beef with each other, they sing a song about it (where does the music come from?), Charlie’s daddy issues get resolved via another song (seriously, where is the music coming from? Did they improv this?), and Mimzy appears. Soon enough, it’s time to leave. Charlie is hugging you and your Dad goodbye when an idea occurs to you.

“Hey, Dad? Charlie?” You say, feeling a bit nervous. “Do you mind if I stay here? I want to help out with the hotel.” It’s been seven years since you arrived in hell, but you still remember every detail of the show from having written it down as soon as you could write. With your knowledge, you might be able to help move things along more easily.

Maybe you can protect your sister from making a deal with the Radio Demon.

“Oh, honey, I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” Lucifer says, looking down at you.

“Eh, why not? Let the kid stay, for Christ’s sake,” Angel pipes up from the bar. “We could use someone ta’ liven the place up a bit.”

“Sweetie, you’ve never even stayed the night away from home before. Are you sure you want to stay in the hotel?” You nod.

“Charlie will be there with me! And you won’t be that far away, either! Please, Daddy?” You give Lucifer your best puppy-dog eyes, the ones you know he’s weak to. Lucifer looks away from you, clearly conflicted.

“Alright,” he relents. “On one condition.”

“Anything,” you say, a tad too eager.

“I’m staying here with you.”

“Is that okay?” You turn to Charlie.

“Of course!” she says. “I’ll go get your rooms set up right away–”

“Room,” Lucifer corrects. “We, uh, wouldn’t want to take up too much space.”

“Oh no, no, no, it’s fine, we’ve got plenty of room for both of-”

“Just one room is enough for us,” he says, his voice final. You want to protest, being a fully grown adult (in your own head, at least), but you know your father won’t budge on this. He must miss feeling like a father, having one grown child and another who acts like they’re grown already. You should let him have this/

“Uh, sure,” Charlie says. “I’ll go get one ready for you, then.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“So,” you say, looking over to Vaggie. The room is empty, save for you two. It’s the perfect time to start putting your plan into action. “How’d your hurt your eye? I thought Exorcists were supposed to be invulnerable.” Vaggie freezes, a horrified expression on her face as she turns to look at you.

“How did you know that I’m an Exorcist?”

“You have a giant ‘X’ over your eye and wield an angelic spear. It isn’t rocket science,” you say, because it’s the first thing that came to mind.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” she says, voice almost a whisper.

“Charlie knows, though, right?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Vaggie remains silent. “I think you should tell her. Keeping secrets from your partner only builds distrust, and it’s not like she wouldn’t forgive you.”

“It’s not that easy,” Vaggie says, moving to sit on the couch. You sit beside her, waiting for her to go on. “I mean, you try telling your girlfriend that saved your life that not only have you been lying to her for years, but that you’ve also killed hundreds of her people. The same people that you’re now trying to save.”

“Well,” you say, shifting a little closer. “I think that last part is what’s really important here.”

“What? The part about me killing hundreds?”

“The part about you trying to save hundreds. I think that speaks to how much you’ve changed over the years. You’ve done things in your past that you aren’t proud of. Everyone has. But now you’re trying to make things right. I mean, you love her, don’t you?” Vaggie nods. “And she loves you?” Another nod. “Then what’s the issue? You guys are a good pair, and you’ll get through this. But first, you have to be honest with her.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she says, looking down.

“I know I am. Now go. Go and tell your girlfriend the truth. Make sure she understands your point of view. Don’t just tell her and leave. Sit down and really explain where you’re coming from, okay?”

“Okay,” she says. “You know, you give some really good advice, for a kid.”

“I know I do. Now, shoo, get outta here.” Vaggie smiles at you, then moves to get up. You give her a thumbs up, silently praying for things to go well for her.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Charlie, there’s something I need to tell you,” Vaggie says, closing the door to their shared room behind her. “It’s um, I mean, you might wanna, uh, sit down for this…”

“Is it bad?” Charlie asks, her face creased with worry.

“No—I mean, yes— I mean, maybe?”

“What is it?” Vaggie sighs, running a hand through her hair. She moves to sit down, and Charlie moves to sit with her, taking Vaggie’s hand in hers. “You know I love you, right?” Vaggie nods.

“I—I’m—I…I can’t do this,” she says, abruptly getting up and walking to the door.

“Wait!” Charlie says, standing to block her. “Hold on! You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”

“No.” Vaggie shakes her head.

“Then it’s fine, isn’t it? We’ll be okay.” Charlie takes Vaggie’s hands in hers and Vaggie feels herself begin to tear up. She hastily moves her hands to wipe at the tears, missing the hurt look that briefly crosses her lover’s face. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Vaggie nods, throat dry. She needs a drink, water, alcohol, something.

“I…” Charlie nods along, an encouraging smile on her face. “I’m an exorcist,” she says at last.

Charlie's face drops. She and Vaggie stare at each other for a long time before Charlie steps up to speak. “...Why are you telling me this now? Why keep it secret for so long?” She says at last.

“I…I’m not proud of it,” Vaggie says. “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you but I just…I was scared.”

“Vaggie, you know I believe in redemption more than anyone else. What were you scared of?”

“I don’t know. I just—I didn’t want to have this conversation. With you. With anyone. When I first got here, I didn’t know you, I couldn’t trust you with my past, and then as more time passed and we got to know each other, it felt like it was too late. Like I couldn’t say it anymore without it becoming this huge thing. Every day, the secret got bigger and bigger, and I…I felt like I was drowning.” Vaggie looks down, ashamed.

“Vaggie,” Charlie says, once again taking Vaggie’s hands in hers. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” She rubs her thumb against her hand comfortingly.

“Are…are we okay?”

“Of course,” she says. “I love you, Vaggie.”

“I love you, too.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“You know, you never did tell me how you hurt your eye,” you say, looking over to Vaggie.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because if angels can be hurt, they can probably be killed, too. I want to believe in Charlie’s hotel, but having a backup plan is always good.”

“An ex-colleague of mine slashed my eye right after she took my wings,” Vaggie says with a sigh.

“What did she use?”

“An angelic spear. Same as all of us.” You hum, pretending to ponder the information you were just given. Should you just drop the act and tell Vaggie you know what Carmilla did on the last extermination, or should you keep nudging her in the right direction?

“Carmilla Carmine deals in angelic weapons, doesn’t she? Maybe she knows something we don’t.”

“Doubt it,” she says. “Not even the other exorcists knew we weren’t invulnerable, and whether or not we can be killed is still up in the air.” You make a noise of displeasure. Without the information that Carmilla definitely killed an exorcist, Vaggie won’t do anything, but there’s no plausible explanation for how you could have come across such information. But if you don’t tell her, Charlie will end up making a deal with Alastor… But if you just give her the answer, Vaggie won’t fight with Carmilla and regain her wings…In the actual show, Alastor only relayed that Carmilla killed an angel, and Charlie took it from there. You should do the same.

“Vaggie, there’s something I need to tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else or ask any questions, okay?”

“What is it?”

“Promise me,” you say, holding up your pinkie. Vaggie obliges, and the room turns red with your deal. She looks shocked, her singular eye wide as she stares at your intertwined fingers, but the shock doesn’t last as you quickly move on to more pressing matters. “Last extermination, Carmilla Carmine killed an exorcist. I don’t know how she did it, but you need to go there and find out.” Vaggie opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. You suppose she must have been trying to ask a question, but the strength of your deal must have prevented her from doing so. “Please, Vaggie. Something’s going to happen during extermination day, I can feel it.” Seeming to sense your desperation Vaggie at last relents.

“Okay, I’ll go talk to Carmilla,” she says.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Taglist: @Halparkebitch @American-idiot21 @Toast-on-dandelioms @Mixplara

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lucifer #hazbin husk #platonic hazbin hotel #niffty #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #vaggie #sir pentious

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loveshotzz · 3 days

Text

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve x fem!reader exes to lovers

Chapter Four -

Honey, on your knees when you look at me

The consequences of your actions hang heavy around you neck when you wake up, so you go to the shop to tell Steve this is definitely not what he thinks it is.

warnings: 18+ slight angst, confused feelings, semi public smut, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem receiving), body worship, praise kink, unprotected p in v smut, cream pie, fluff.

wc: 10k

authors note: This chapter has been almost two months in the making between life and writers block, I didn’t think I would be here. Thank you to everyone who sent me messages about this story and about him because of you, I never gave up writing this series I was so excited about. beta’d by: @superblysubpar

series masterlist | series playlist

songs from the playlist that inspired this chapter: Unravel Me, If You Think I’m Pretty, Please Don’t Fall In Love With Me, Make Up, Eastside, Holy.

Streams of shining golden yellow make your lids still heavy with sleep flutter, lashes tickling the tops of your puffy cheeks as you surrender to the sun’s wishes to wake you up. The orange shag carpet in Robin’s living room slowly comes into focus, along with the rest of your surroundings as the ends of your palms rub the rest of the night from your eyes. Stretching your legs, they’re met with warmth like the rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds still lingering on the cushions next to you.

¨Shit.¨

Your muscles freeze, threatening to cramp in your calf as the night floods back into your memories. How his plush pink lips slotted between yours like they should never be anywhere else, or how they made your back arch, kissing a messy path down your neck, perfect teeth nipping, threatening to bruise your delicate skin that lights up under his touch.

A shaky breath pushes out of your lungs as you shimmy your body deeper into the couch, fingers finding their way to your chest where you swear you can still feel his smile pressed into your skin, the tips of them hitting something smooth and warm.

A metal chain.

The weight of it around your neck finally registers through the sleepy fog that lifts from your brain. Looking down the slope of your nose, you nearly go cross-eyed when you’re met with the rich yellow gold that matches the sun, especially because It looks just like the one that belongs to Steve Harrington.

“No, no, no, no.”

The realization that it is in fact, Steve Harrington’s kicks in just like your feet in a silent fit, the thin throw he must’ve put on top of you before he left falling to the ground. You remember his plea for a date, and it has panic curling deep in your gut, the consequences of your actions arriving first thing in the morning before you’ve even had any coffee.

There’s a little bit of pride that hides in a small space in your chest that you didn’t just fold and say yes. Something you would have done in high school when he was giving you much less. Still, you didn’t say no. You were just prolonging the inevitable matter of letting him down right? It’s the self-respecting thing, it’s what you told yourself you’d always do.

Say no.

You twist the metal between your fingers, your eyes finding the dust particles that seem to float between the plastic of Robin’s blinds. There’s an ache in your heart at the fresh reminder of what it feels like to be held in his arms, something he rarely did when you were dating, at least not if it wasn’t the dead of night. The sleepovers at his big empty house were your favorite until you realized how sad it was. All his whispered secrets and deep confessions that he only shared when you were lit by the moonlight - the kind that hid all the stars in the sky and that boy he was trying to hide. The ones that kept you hanging onto hope until the last bit of rope tethering you to him, cut your skin. Those were the nights that really made you have to run.

You’re not sure if you could survive it again, and the end of August is only a distant friend. Pushing yourself off the couch, your eyes catch the bright bold numbers on the microwave that read 9:45 AM and you try to remember all the reasons you left in the first place. Not the way he looked at you last night in the kitchen making your best friend’s favorite snack.

Your flip-flops clack loudly against the hot pavement, the determination in your walk up to the shop threatening to set the street ablaze. The spaghetti strap sundress you threw on in a rush trying to be careful not to wake up Robin does very little to help cool you or your mood down when you’re met with the mugginess of the Midwest.

Steve’s chain bounces against your chest with each step, the gold shimmering against the sunlight in a pretty reminder that you still haven’t taken it off yet. One that you choose to ignore in your huff trying to think of all the mean things he's done and not the way he begged you to make it right.

Reaching the end of the block, you notice Eddie’s van is missing from the parking lot, leaving only Steve’s BMW against the side of the shop. It stops you dead in your tracks because the buffer that would stop you from making the same mistake isn’t there. Your proven lack of self-control only a few weeks into the summer has your confidence waver with nerves that try and get the best of you, but with a deep breath, you force your feet to keep moving.

Steve’s side of the garage is the only one open, the faded green metal door at half-mast to keep some of the sun away. Michael Jackson’s The Way You Make Me Feel bleeds out of the open space, bouncing and echoing off the cars inside, waking up the butterflies and sending them soaring. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you try not to imagine the way he’s probably singing along, or that curl that won’t stay in place, falling over his forehead as he bobs his head to the beat.

Why is Eddie not here?

You see his black work boots first, then the legs that were intertwined with yours just a few hours ago, now adorned by blue coveralls. Walking across the grease-stained cement, he comes to an abrupt stop, and for a second you think maybe he sees you, heart thumping wildly in your chest until he shuffles back a few steps before continuing forward.

He was dancing and you hate the way the corners of your mouth twitch because of it.

The smell of oil is bittersweet hitting your nose as you stop in front of the opening, silently working up the courage to duck under the door. Steve doesn’t notice your sneaky entrance from where he stands at his workbench with his back facing you, completely lost in whatever’s on the paper he’s holding in black-stained hands. It gives you the few minutes you need to get your thoughts together as he bops his head to the music that’s loud enough to hide you a little bit longer.

Your gaze lands on Eddie’s empty office, successfully diminishing the last bit of hope you clung onto that maybe he just didn’t drive today, before your eyes catch the burnt orange of your car tucked away in the corner. A cherry red Corvette sits parked in front of it, making your face sour at the instant comparison. It outshines the car you scraped up enough money to get after moving to the city, sparking the kind of anger you’d been scrambling to cling onto walking up here. Maybe if your car hadn’t broken down, you wouldn’t have kissed Steve Harrington, and then maybe you wouldn’t be standing here secretly wanting to do it again.

Clinging to that notion with everything you have, you take a deep breath, straightening your posture before clearing your throat, letting him know he wasn’t by himself anymore.

”The music’s a little loud don’t you think?”

The pleased grin that spreads wide across your face can’t be stopped when the sound of your voice makes him jump with a ‘Jesus Christ’ so loud you can hear it over the music, crumbling the paper in his hands.

Point one - you.

Your victory is short-lived the moment Steve turns around with his ever changing brown eyes that are somehow warmer in the daylight, reflecting the flecks of green that shine and light up even more at the realization that it’s you and not some random intruder. He runs those long fingers through his hair, trying to tame the mess on top of his head that you made, while his heavy stare fixates on the chain still hanging off your neck. Right where he left it.

Leaning over to turn the volume down on his boombox, he doesn’t break eye contact, giving you that crooked smile that makes your heart skip a beat pushing up the two moles on his cheek. Raising his hands in a silent apology, you try not to think about how big they look or the way they grabbed at your hips last night. It's a fruitless effort, so you try to make up for it with a sassy tongue.

”Wow, I could have easily stolen one of these cars if I had wanted to.”

Crossing your arms, you suck at your teeth, deciding that standing right where you are is the best move, especially when you see the sweat that glistens, beading off of his tan skin, curling the coarse hairs on his chest that’s hardly hidden by the sheer white of his tank top. At least his coveralls are fully on this time.

“Maybe I should report you to Eddie.”

“Most of the cars in here don’t run,” Steve tuts, dark eyes roaming over your curves hugged tight by the soft cotton of your dress unashamed before meeting your narrowed gaze, “You of all people should know that.”

“Sounds like maybe you’re just bad at your job.”

You ignore the uncontrollable press of your thighs that only gets worse the more his smile widens with your attitude, reading your body language like his favorite book.

“Did you come here just to pick a fight?” Steve sighs, carding another hand through his hair, threatening to punch the air out of your lungs when he looks up at you through his lashes “Or do you just want another kiss?”

It’s impossible to sound out the word ‘no’ even though it’s just two letters because watching him lick his full bottom lip before tugging it between his perfect teeth makes you wish it was yours instead.

“Is that it baby?” Steve taunts, pushing himself off the work bench and tossing the crumbled paper aside.

”No,” you finally manage to get out, but the venom you had less than twenty-four hours ago is gone, and it barely stings when you try to deny with a jut of your chin and a quieter than intended, “That’s not why I’m here.”

The little bit of self-control you’ve been hanging onto with an iron grip starts to slip from in between your fingers with each heavy thud of his boots that bring you closer to your demise as he closes the gap.

”Are you sure?” He asks with a glint in the darkening russet of his eyes that land on the gold wrapped around your neck again, close enough now to smell last night's leftover cologne.

“A-absolutely,” you stutter, taking a few steps back, the clack of your flip flops echoing, making you wince with embarrassment as you try to counteract his advances only for your back to hit the cool metal of a pickup truck.

”Hmmm, I know what it must be then,” he hums, a faint hint of smirk twisting the corners of his full lips, big boots stopping with a scuff on the cement floor right in front of your pink painted toes.

Reaching up, his bold fingertips trace the smooth edges of his chain, rough calluses tickling your collar bone daring to explore a little more. The quick rising of your chest spurs him on as he tries to hold his composure, teasing the dip of your breasts, he curls his finger around the metal, lifting the chain a little before letting it fall back into place. Mischief twinkles in his stare that matches the same color staining his hands.

“You must be here to tell me when you’ll be ready for our date later tonight, huh baby?”

It takes your brain a second to catch up, the freckles that spread across his cheeks like wildfire in the light distracting you from this close.

“The opposite actually,” clearing your throat, you try to hide the way your tongue dries when he looks at you like this, “I’m here to say that whatever happened last night doesn’t change anything.”

The corners of his lips twitch, his gaze getting lost in the details of your features like you weren’t denying him, finally giving you the fuel you needed to make your blood simmer, the anger you thought you’d lost forever buzzing under your heated skin.

“So!” You snap your fingers in his face, interrupting whatever daydream he was getting lost in, getting the glare you were searching for, “You better get that out of your head right now. We’re not going on a date.”

Your words finally bite with a tone that almost seems final and for a minute it starts to feel like you have a semblance of your self-control back. Holding your head up high, you try to really end whatever started on your best friend's couch last night.

“We can be friendly for Robin’s sake, but it’s never going to happen again. I’m not your girl, Harrington.”

Steve rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, something you can’t quite put your finger on flashing behind the gold in his eyes. Leaning forward, his hand finds the chipped teal paint of the truck behind you. Caging you in, the spice of his cologne overwhelms you as it mixes with the heat in the garage, and the sweat glistening on his tan skin. The warmth of his breath fans across your cheeks that burn like they’re being licked by a flame, thighs pressing harshly under your dress as you try not to let his gaze swallow you whole.

“If that’s how you really feel, fine.” He says cooly, seemingly unphased and it makes your blood boil more. “I’ll take my chain back now then.”

“No.”

“No?” He snorts incredulously at your refusal, watching the way your fingers come up to play with it. Taunting him.

”I don’t even know why you put it on me in the first place,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes, channeling his nonchalance before ducking under his arm, your escape in sight.

You refuse to look back at him making a beeline to the open garage door, heart thumping wildly in your chest as you do your best not to give away the attachment you have to the weight of it around your neck that you really aren’t ready to unpack yet.

”I left it!” Steve yells hot on your heels, the cracks in his confident demeanor starting to show, “I left it so you didn’t think I just disappeared on you this morning because I personally have zero regrets about what happened last night.”

The sarcastic ‘HA!’ you let out is almost comical, picking up your pace with an extra sway to your hips because you know he’s staring.

”How about this, Steve?” You antagonize, turning around and walking backward with a smug grin that mirrors his from before, “I’ll think about it.”

Steve doesn’t take the bait, instead, he side-steps quickly to smash the round red button on the wall with a deadpan face. Letting the rumble of the garage door coming to life do all the talking for him.

”Are you serious?!“ You shriek, watching it close faster than your feet can carry you, even contemplating a tuck and roll when you see the sunlight and any chance you have at not going back on your promise start to disappear behind it.

“It’s simple honey,” he sighs with an irritated edge, “Give me my chain and I’ll open her back up so you can go run back to Robin’s and pretend like last night never happened. Just the way you want, right?”

”This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. Let me out asshole!”

A new level of stubbornness that you never thought you could reach locks you in place, facing him with arms crossed tight over your chest.

”I’m ridiculous?” Steve chuckles darkly, the steel toe of his boots echoing louder now that you’re sealed inside as he walks towards you, “Look at yourself.”

”What’s that supposed to mean?” You snap despite the way your teeth gnaw nervously on your bottom lip, greedy eyes roaming his tall frame as your body betrays you for what feels like the hundredth time today when he steps into your space again.

“I know you enjoyed drama club in high school, but you’ve always been a terrible actress.”

“And you’ve always had way more confidence than you should.”

Steve’s nostrils flare, his gaze threatening to set you on fire.

”I’m going to get back to work, you’re free to go whenever you give me my necklace back. I’m getting paid to be here all day baby, you aren’t, so just know that I’ve got time.” He holds your stare for a second longer, sucking at his teeth before turning around. Testing you.

“Come take it off me then, Harrington, if you want it so bad.”

Two can play that game.

He stops in his tracks, shoulders tensing at the implication of your words, turning his head to the side, he gives you a perfect view of his sharp jawline.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warns, with a tone sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“I said,” your shoulders square with a defiance that matches your glare, acting as if you aren’t sealing your fate with the next four words, “Come and get it.”

Steve’s long strides close the distance faster than you can comprehend. A big hand grabs at your hip, grease-stained fingers digging into your curves, while the other cups the side of your face, surely leaving a mark. He's getting what he really wants.

Gasping into his mouth, the force of his kiss sends a shudder through the garage door when your back slams against it. Lost in the sensation of his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, you barely notice. Your fingers weave through the thick locks of his hair at the nape of his neck as if they were always meant to be there. A harsh tug on the silky strands earns you a groan that's deeper than you remember, and you immediately want to hear it again.

The clash for dominance ignites as your tongues collide clumsily, teeth grazing and noses pressing into each other’s cheeks. His grip tightens on your hip in a warning before his hand trails down to where the bottom hem of your dress rests at the top of your thigh. Pushing up the thin fabric, the blunt tips of his nails skim across your soft skin, goosebumps pebbling despite the heat.

His fingers tease the edge of your panties, tracing the curve where they meet your ass, stealing your whine with a cocky grin that he kisses into your lips. He lingers just long enough to turn you needy before he hooks your knee around his waist, getting the instant roll of your hips and more of your little noises that will haunt his every waking thought after this.

“Steve,” you breathe, tugging your swollen bottom lip between your teeth while he starts kissing a slow, agonizing path down your jaw, tickling you with the stubble on his cheek.

He hums in between kisses, nipping at the sensitive spot behind your ear, he soothes it with a swipe of his tongue before he starts to suck–hard. Your moan bounces off the metal and concrete that surround you, echoing in your ears while your greedy fingers tug even harder at his roots. His grip on you tightens when you start to squirm as his efforts to mark what’s his intensify, leaving a bruise you’ll have to explain to Robin later.

”Yeah?” He mumbles against your heated skin, the tip of his nose running along your pulse point, a saccharine smile pressing into the curve of your neck where his chain still rests.

“Shut up,” you manage to get out, despite Steve leaving open-mouthed kisses on the swell of your breasts, palming roughly at the dough of your ass, encouraging another rock of your hips.

“You're always so mean to me, honey,” Steve sighs, nipping at the supple skin, before meeting your poor attempt at a glare from under the thick hood of his lashes.

”Yeah? And? What are you gonna do about it?” You bite, but it doesn’t sting the way you want it to, not with the way your chest heaves in anticipation of his next move.

Steve flips you around so quickly that the change in position has you gasping, your palms meeting the warm metal of the garage door that bakes in the sun outside. Heavy work boots push your legs apart, while hot breath that rivals the summer dances across the nape of your neck. He presses himself into you, letting you feel just how hard you really have him, the tip of his nose brushing along the shell of your ear. Butterflies multiply, tickling your rib cage just like your lashes that kiss the tops of your cheeks.

“I think it's pretty obvious what I want to do,” he whispers against your neck, lips ghosting across the freshly formed bruise, “The real question is…”

The backs of his fingers brush along the sides of your breasts, goosebumps pebbling across your skin. His big hands follow the curve of your waist, smoothing down to the tops of your thighs. Taking his time, he curls them under the hem of your dress, pulling it up to rest on top of your hips, still giving you the chance to stop him. One you don’t take.

“Are you gonna let me?” His words are gruff coming out next to your ear, your walls fluttering around nothing because of it.

The humid air doesn’t help your sticky thighs that only get worse as two of his calloused fingers trace agonizingly slow along the waistband of the only fabric separating you now. Peppering soft kisses to all the sensitive spots that make your skin come alive, his teeth nip playfully at your earlobe, fireworks lighting up in the sky behind your eyes when he takes it into the heat of his mouth. The sensation has you mewling, jaw going slack as your toes curl into the foam of your flip flops from a feeling only Steve Harrington can give.

”I could be so nice to you, baby,” he whispers, letting you go with a pop, his fingers daring to go lower than just teasing, smirking against your cheek at the gasp you give when he drags them through your slick folds, wrapping your hands around his wrist for support, your hips chase him for more. “Don’t you want that?”

Your pride has your teeth biting into your bottom lip. Refusing to answer his question loaded with too many double meanings for your head to wrap around right now, but you still spread yourself wider for him, because the last thing you want him to do is stop.

“Gonna make me earn it, huh?” He breathes, biting back his groan at how you start dripping down his hand, “That’s okay. I’ll show you I’m worthy.”

His promise is enough to finally draw out the moan you’ve been fighting, the sound making him kick up in his coveralls, while the movements of his wrist become more pointed. Your head lulls back against his broad shoulder, and his cologne smells even better with the way sweat starts to drip from his pores. Your eyes are needy, meeting the black coffee of his and you know it, especially at the furrow of his brows when he looks at you completely transfixed.

“God, I almost forgot how soft you are. How fucking wet you get for me.” He whispers between gritted teeth, awestruck at the feeling of your silk walls begging him for more, daring him to explore, “Bet you taste even sweeter than I remember too.”

Leaning down, he runs the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours, the mint that still lingers on his breath tickling your lips. Your hips roll with the rhythm of his wrist, warmth spreading across your cheeks as the sounds of just how wet you are echo in the big space. Too close to falling apart all over his fingers to care, the blunt ends of your nails dig half-crescent moons into his wrist chasing it.

“Baby, are you gonna come already? I’ve barely touched you.”

His words mock you despite the sugary sweetness they drip with, every swipe against your bundle of nerves becoming unrelenting, determined even. But it’s still enough for you to take the bait and force your eyes open, meeting his hungry stare dead on and say:

”Y- you wish it was that easy.”

Amusement dances across the hard lines of his face, his dark gaze narrowing before something between a laugh and a growl rumbles deep from his chest. The motions of his wrist come to a halt, and it takes everything inside of you not to cry in protest. Pulling his hand from your soaked panties, his wet fingers dig into your hips spinning you around, quick strides pushing you to the corvette that started your spiral.

“What are you doing?!” You squeal, your butt hitting the cherry-red metal of the hood that sticks to your sweat-slicked skin.

He just grins, the pearly whites of his teeth showing as grease-stained hands spread your knees apart enough for him to step between, leaving raven fingerprints in their wake before grabbing at your chin, he forces you to look at him.

“Need you to keep your eyes on me, honey, and remember what you just said.” He pulls your bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb, watching it pop back into place.

Letting go of your chin, he holds your stare, fingers ghosting across the tops of your thighs as he drops to his knees like someone praying to a god. Hooking his arms under your bent legs, he tugs you to the end of the hood with a squeak. Spread wide for him to see, your calves rest on top of his shoulders that you hate to admit you wish you could see. Leaning forward, the tip of his nose traces the wet path of your covered folds, breathing you in like the sweetest summer breeze.

When his big eyes meet yours from between your thighs, just begging you to get lost in them like you used to, it’s almost enough for you to forget the game you’re both supposed to be playing. There’s a softness that lingers inside melting caramel that manages to shine through the black that overpowers it, and you wonder if he can hear the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

His touch is gentle now, long fingers curling around the waistband of your underwear, silently asking you for permission to cross the line that deep down you know there’s no going back from. Nodding your head with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you even help him, lifting your legs when he pulls them from around your ankles.

Steve stuffs the satin in his pocket ignoring the way you tell him that you want them back. His pink tongue that’s seconds away from being your undoing wets his lips, jaw going tight at the sight in front of him. Roses bloom on his tan cheeks, and he can’t help but run a hand through his hair, the reality setting in that he really has you like this. He looks completely wrecked. At least it isn’t just you.

“Fuck.” He breathes, the blunt ends of his nails digging into the dough of your thighs, shuffling himself even closer, his eyes glaze over.

Goosebumps pebble across your buzzing skin, your velvet walls fluttering around nothing as you lose the witty response you had saved on the tip of your tongue, managing just a quiet, “I thought you were supposed to show me somethin’?”

His lips twitch so close to where you need him most that you can almost feel the curve of them, your knees bending just a little more, urging him on by his shoulders.

“So impatient,” he tsks, the vibrations of his words only making it worse, “My girl needs me huh? She missed me as much as I missed her didn’t she?”

“Steve - shut uhhhhohmygod!”

His mouth latches onto your cunt like he’s thirsty for everything you’re offering him, collecting your dripping honey that’s sweet on his tongue. Running a broad stripe up your folds, his grip on your thighs tightens when you start to squirm, holding you in place, as he swirls messy circles on your bundle of nerves before sucking it hard enough for your head to fall back against the car. Your fingers bury themselves into the sweaty silk of his hair, pulling harshly at the roots, earning the kind of grunt that has you whimpering, dripping down the stubble on his chin as your hips buck up to meet him.

Letting you go with a loud pop, he huffs out a dark laugh at your whine, hardly giving you time to recover before pulling you even further down the hood of the car, till your ass hangs off the edge. The tip of his nose brushes against your sensitive clit while his tongue begins to tease your entrance that quivers just for him. The new angle has you practically sitting on his face, and before you have a chance to overthink it he slowly starts to work you open with his greedy mouth.

”Holy shit I -“ Your eyelids droop, jaw going slack as he starts to move side to side, licking into you like you’re the sweetest prize. His nose adds just the right amount of pressure while he eats you up like a man starved, “You’re gonna - fuck - Steve!”

His hands move from your thighs to the soft fat of your ass, encouraging your hips more, and if you weren’t so far gone, you’d be scared you’re suffocating him. You dare to look down at the scene between your legs, and it’s almost enough to have you cumming all over his face. His pitch-black eyes gaze up at you enamored, completely lost and still hungry because after all these years it’s still not enough. He moans into your folds when you meet his half-lidded stare, the sensation vibrating in all the right places, making your legs shake.

The feeling of your walls pulsing tight around his tongue, knowing how close you are already has him twitching painfully hard in his coveralls. It’s enough to ignore the discomfort of his knees, doubling down on the movements of his jaw. His name bounces off the metal and concrete, while the roll of your hips gets more and more aggressive because it feels like he’s eating you from the inside out, the tip of his tongue reaching the spot that makes you gasp.

“Right there, shit, right there, right there, I’m gonna, oh my god I’m gonna cum!”

Your scream is silent, body going rigid, giving into him already. The muscles in your legs tense, as your thighs squeeze tight around his head while your pussy tries to push him out but he only doubles down with a completely relentless tongue. He moans loud enough inside you to hear through the ringing in your ears, your fingers curling harshly in his thick locks, back hitting the metal of the hood again.

He ignores the first few pushes against his forehead when his kitten licks become too much before he finally listens. Sticky legs fall open releasing him from a trap he never asked to escape from, his shiny wet lips leaving kisses along your shaking thighs, tickling the supple skin with the stubble on his jaw. You feel his tongue dart out to collect everything he missed, earning the kind of sweet noises he can’t wait to hear all summer long.

Steve stands up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and you try to be mad at his smug grin but your body can’t help its reaction to the way he struggles against his coveralls. The hard outline of dick reminds you of the stretch that you know will ruin you for anyone else, spent walls fluttering despite yourself.

”Now what was that you were saying a few minutes ago, pretty girl?” Leaning down, his palms find a new home on either side of your head.

The whites of his teeth shine at the eyeroll you find enough energy to give him, even with your legs wrapped around his waist. His nose nudges the tip of yours, the playful glint in his eyes changes into something lovesick and it brings the ache in your chest back because you know it’s going to hurt even worse walking away again.

“Hey, what’s going on up there?” He questions, placing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, eyebrows furrowing as he searches your face for answers.

You don’t give him one, pushing aside the worry for when you lay awake in the middle of the night. Instead, you let your fingers wrap themselves in the cotton of his tank top, pulling him to your lips that silently beg him to help you forget. He meets you with an eager mouth, and a big hand that comes up to rest on your flushed cheek. The pad of his thumb traces the high bone while his tongue asks you for permission for more.

Your thighs lock tighter around his waist, granting him the access he wants, tasting yourself all over him. Shaking fingers find the zipper of his jumper, tugging down the metal, he helps your shimmy off his sleeves. The freckles that dot his shoulders like the night sky beg you to open your eyes as the top of his coveralls fall to his sides, the rock of his hips making you say his name like it’s the sweetest thing.

“Want you,” you whisper with a nip at his bottom lip, ankles crossing at the two dips you know are on his lower back.

”Baby,” He groans, dropping his head down, burying it in the crook of your neck as you roll your pussy over the length of him that’s still covered by the navy blue material you can’t seem to get off fast enough.

He lets you do it a few more times before his hands find both your wrists, pinning them above your head, he peppers kisses along your jaw, letting his fingers glide down the length of your body, making sure to catch his chain still hanging off your neck as he stands back up. You finally get a good look at him, and the sight is enough to know the memory of today will be etched into the corners of your mind, just like the rest of them.

Pink cheeks still kissed by the sun, and dark chestnut hair that matches his eyes twist at its golden ends in an even bigger mess now on the top of his head. The thick thatch of it on his chest curling from the sweat that drips down his neck, leaving translucent patches along the white cotton of his tank top, teasing even more of him to your starving gaze. His uniform hangs low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of the waistband of his boxer briefs, making you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. He grabs at the sides of your thighs, his handsome face going kind.

“You came in here ready to tell me to fuck off,” he laughs softly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles, “I just need to know this is what you really want.”

His words tighten in your chest, forcing you to make a decision so that when you have no one else to blame but yourself when you lay awake in your apartment with a broken heart in the fall, you can’t hate him anymore.

“I really want it.”

The answer stumbles past your lips before you can think too hard about it, pulling the rest of your rucked up dress over your head, leaving you completely exposed for his heavy chocolate eyes to drink in. Despite the muggy heat of the garage, your nipples pebble under it, cheeks going hot because you always feel like the most beautiful girl in the world when Steve Harrington looks at you like this.

It’s all the encouragement he needs to let you go and do the same with his tank top, tossing it to the side before shoving the rest of his uniform down the tops of his thighs. Thick, long and heavy, your eyes widen as his hard length springs free, smacking against the happy trail at the bottom of his stomach. The pink tip leaks for you, shining with precum, while his big hand wraps around it, tugging a few times and making you drip more on the hood.

“I’ll go slow,” he coos, leaning down to capture your lips in something sweeter than the rest of them. “I know you can take it, honey.”

Nodding your head, you look up at him with glassy eyes, completely giving in, shutting off the part of your brain that’s telling you that you know better. Spreading your legs wider, his eyebrows marry in the middle of his forehead, cursing under his breath at the sight of you like this. He silently thanks whatever gods or girl that got Eddie sick, because this moment shatters any fantasies that have consumed his late nights.

He runs the length of his cock through your slick, spreading you apart around him, earning the kind of mewl that makes him twitch in his hand. Your back arches off the corvette when he does it again only this time with added pressure to your clit. Locking your legs around his waist, you make sure he doesn’t get away.

”So fuckin’ beautiful baby, Jesus Christ, look at you.” Steve grunts, lining himself up with your entrance, pushing just the tip into the tightening silk of your walls before both his hands find their way back to your hips, fingers digging into soft flesh. ”Wanna make you feel so good. You gonna let me?”

“Mmhmm,” you whimper a little high pitch and out of breath, letting go of all the control you’ve hung onto for the last five years with a dirty roll of your hips that begs to suck him in.

“Oh fuck, you’re still so - shit.” Steve practically whines, his jaw going hard with eyebrows that pinch together, trying to regain his composure from the way you pulse around him just nudging halfway in, the aftershocks of your first orgasm have you feeling every ridge of his cock, lighting your body up.

The stretch burns, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as flames lick deep in your gut from the feeling you’ll never get enough of. His calloused fingers grab at your chin, demanding your attention. Your lashes tickle the tops of your cheeks as you force them back open, only to find his face is closer now, both his palms landing on either side of your head, black iris’s threatening to drown you, holding your gaze with the kind of intensity that makes your heart palpitate.

”I want to look at you.” He breathes against your lips as one swift thrust has you completely filled up.

”Steve!”

Gasping into his mouth, it takes all of your strength to keep your eyes open, focusing on the imperfect circles of the chestnut freckles that explode across the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah?” He smirks, pressing his forehead against yours, the rough hair on his chest tickling the softness of your breasts, nipples pebbling as your arms wrap around his neck.

“It feels, you feel -“

A loud moan rumbles from the back of your throat when the tip of him hits the spot that makes your toes curl into the fat of his ass, pushing him even deeper, the ends of your nails dig pretty marks all over his shoulders.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me how good it feels.” He grunts, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth, the roll of his hips becoming a slow grind.

His pelvic bone hits your bundle of nerves just right while the tip of him bullies the spot that has your eyes threatening to close against his wishes, and it has you sounding like ‘Steve’ is the only word you’ve ever known. It’s a hazy mess inside your mind, especially when he looks at you like this. It’s worse than before, and you don’t know how you’re going to find your way back this time, something different inside of his gaze that you know is going to make it impossible.

”Missed you so much, so damn gorgeous angel, think about you all the time. All the fucking time.” Steve babbles, completely drunk off the way you flutter at his words, the angry facade you’ve been putting on crumbling around him as your body lets the truth come out.

The confession makes your chest tighten with all the unresolved feelings you’ve shoved down for so long, the ones you almost forgot were there until a few weeks ago. Fingers curling into the hair on the nape of his neck you lean up, capturing his lips to shut him up, rocking your hips to meet his thrust. He grunts into your mouth, cock twitching against your walls, eagerly licking into your mouth.

It’s easier to get lost in him without the reminder of what used to be, teeth scraping together as the kiss gets messier. The metal of the car crunches and bends under your movements, but neither one of you can find it in you to care with noses pressing into each other's cheeks, tongues fighting for the kind of dominance your hips are at war about.

Steve is the one that breaks first, coming up for air, with eyes that seem even darker than before as he pushes himself up to stand. Big hands grab at your hips as a loose strand of hair falls across his forehead. Pulling halfway out, he takes a moment to admire the sheen you coat him, pink tongue darting out to lick his swollen lips before shoving himself all the way back in.

”Oh my god!” You gasp, throwing your head back against the hood, your hands landing on top of his, fingernails digging into the tops of them.

“I wanna watch you cum again, can you do that for me, baby?” He tugs you closer, your body squeaking across the metal that tries to stick to your skin, the tip of him hitting that spot again.

Nodding your head, every hard thrust of his hips echoes through the garage, the car shaking underneath you as tires threaten to roll. He feels himself getting close, the pad of his thumb finding your clit to rub the kind of messy circles that have you saying his name just how he likes.

“Come on, let me see how pretty you can get, let me have it.” He coos, finding the perfect combination to make you come undone all over him.

Your walls clench hard enough to try and push him out but he just buries himself deeper, a loud groan rumbling from his chest watching the way your face contorts with pleasure. White dances behind your heavy lids that squeeze shut as your legs start to shake around his waist. You try to shove his hand away, but he refuses, remaining relentless, milking your second orgasm for everything it's worth, making you cum even harder.

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s iiiiit, so fuckin’ good for me.” He praises, completely lost in the way your body responds to him and it’s enough to send him flying over the edge he’d been teetering on since had you against the garage door.

A string of curse words falls pretty from his lips, twitching hard inside you and with the last bit of strength you have, you squeeze him even tighter, relishing in the way his jaw goes slack because of it. The movements of his thumb finally end its assault so he can grab onto your sides with both hands, fingers digging bruises as one last hard thrust has his warmth filling you up.

The feeling of being so full sends your body buzzing, watching him fall apart on top of you with sweat dripping off the ends of his hair. His head drops between his shoulders, body shaking as his orgasm rakes through him. Red cheeks and skin so warm it rivals the sun, he lets himself collapse on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck totally spent, still chasing his high with a slow circle of his hips.

Your nose finds its way into his damp hair, inhaling deeply because it somehow smells even better than before. You wrap your arms around his shoulders even though you know you should leave and forget this ever happened, but it feels too good to have hands sliding up your curves as he starts to drip out of you and onto the car.

“God, Eddie’s going to kill me.” He mumbles against your skin, making you squirm because it tickles, and you can feel him smile because of it.

“How’s he gonna find out?” You giggle, the metal of the Corvette popping under your shifting weight.

”Baby.” Steve snorts, leaving a kiss on the curve of your jaw before pushing himself up on his elbows, the endearment falling too easily off his tongue in a casual way, reminding you very quickly of your reality.

It’s harder to meet his eyes that search for yours, but you do anyway. They’re warm again, like a dark sand beach and it's hard not to want to lay out a towel and live inside them. Both of you wince as he pulls himself out, cursing under his breath at your walls staying greedy and trying to pull him back in.

He doesn’t notice the shift in your demeanor pulling up his coveralls and tying the sleeves around his waist, or if he does he chooses to ignore it, grabbing your dress off the floor before offering you his hand. There’s less grease staining them now and you know it's because it's all over you, completely marked by him nearly head to toe whether you like it or not.

Sliding your hand in his, you duck your head down as you take it, legs wobbling when your feet hit the ground, not missing the smug grin that pushes up his cheeks clocking it. You go for your dress but Steve just tuts at you pulling it out of reach, ignoring your scoff he shakes it out before lifting it above your head signaling for you to put your arms up. Rolling your eyes with a smile you can’t fight, you pretend not to feel the butterfly wings tickling your ribcage, turning around and doing as he asks, letting him drag the soft cotton down your body. Calloused fingertips tracing the goosebumps they create.

”Let’s go get cleaned up in the bathroom,” he hums softly, grabbing you by the hips, and pressing a kiss into the fresh bruise behind your ear.

You tell yourself you’ll leave after this letting him guide you by the waist and a chin on your shoulder. You think it again when the small space of the bathroom is filled with giggles and bashful smiles as he sits you on the closed toilet seat, wetting paper towels that turn into mache in his hands. You scream at yourself to do it watching him try and fix his hair in the mirror after wiping you down the best he can, pressing kisses on both your kneecaps.

“I’ve been using this new product, but nothing hits like Farrah. I can’t believe they discontinued it. Dustin swears he can find me some, but who knows if you can even trust it’s the real deal, you know?”

Steve interrupts your inner turmoil with a face that’s far too serious for the words that just left his mouth and the thoughts running through your head. Your mood shifts almost instantly with a laugh loud enough to turn his cheeks the color of your toes, giving you an exaggerated eye roll despite the twitch of his lips.

“I can’t believe you still hang out with a middle schooler.” You tease, getting up on your feet, legs feeling a little less like jello but the reminder between your thighs only seems to intensify.

”I told you he’s like 19 - “

”Whatever you gotta tell yourself, Steve,” you grin, taking the break in the intensity of everything to try and work up the self-control to leave, wincing at the echoing clack of your flip flops that give you away instantly.

”Wait, where are you going?” Steve’s brows furrow in confusion, turning around to face you, he tightens the sleeves wrapped around his waist, biceps flexing while all the playfulness drains from his eyes.

”I should go before Robin -“

”What? No, she’ll be fine, it’s like noon. I’m sure she’s not even awake yet.”

“Steve.”

”Honey.”

The two of you face off in a silent challenge, stares unwavering, mimicking each other with arms crossover over your chests.

“Don’t run again.” He pleads with a whisper that’s barely audible against the beating of your heart in your ears, the room feeling smaller.

“I’m not running, I’m walking.” You try to lighten the mood with a joke, the corners of your eyes stinging but you refuse to acknowledge why.

”I’m not letting you walk home.”

“It’s down the road-“

“I don’t care! You’re not walking. Let me close up and then I’ll at least drive you.”

You don’t argue with the hurt expression on his face, you can’t.

It’s somehow even hotter outside when the two of you sneak out the side door of the garage. A different kind of tension hangs thick in the air putting the humidity to shame, even with the sun shimmering from the highest point in the sky. His skin glows like liquid gold in its rays as he walks in front of you, your eyes following the movements of his freckled shoulders that flex with every swing on his arms. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you hate the pit that settles deep in your gut because you don’t want to say goodbye just yet. Another consequence of a choice you made rearing its ugly head.

You aren’t expecting him to open the passenger door for you, the metal creaking loudly breaking a silence that’s filled with a thousand unspoken words just hanging on the tip of both of your tongues waiting to fill up the space. His gaze meets yours from under the thick length of his lashes, the corners of his lips twisting at the way you get bashful from the gesture.

”Thanks,” you whisper, catching a whiff of his cologne as you duck into the passenger seat that’s starting to feel like yours again.

He just hums in response, shutting it quickly and trapping you inside a metal box filled with every smell that reminds you of him. It pulls at your heart, and intensifies the burn between your thighs. Your fingers come up to twist the metal that still dangles from your neck, and you’re not sure you can bring yourself to give it back after this. The already small space of the car shrinks even more when the driver side door opens and he slides in next to you with a huff, keys jingling loudly in his hand closing the door behind him.

His shoulders brush with yours shoving the keys in the ignition, the seat vibrating underneath you as the beemer quietly roars to life. He keeps his hand on the stick shift, sweat slick skin pressing into yours shifting the car into drive. The radio isn’t as loud as you thought it’d be considering the way he was blasting it in the shop. Meatloaf’s I’d Do Anything For Love spills out of the speakers and you try not to laugh at the irony, scrambling to think of what to say to him as Robin’s apartment complex quickly comes into view.

But he never stops.

“Steve, what are you doing?” You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest watching the baby blue paneling of her apartments whiz past.

“This is technically my lunch break, and I’m hungry.” He shrugs, glancing at you with something mischievous in his eyes that you want to smack away because it makes your heart skip a beat, “You’re telling me you’re not starving after that honey?”

Smacking your lips together, you roll your eyes as hard as you can, trying to hide the smile that pushes up your cheeks.

“Wow, your confidence always just astounds me.” Shaking your head, your sarcastic laugh only makes him grin.

”I think you like it.”

You can’t bring yourself to deny it, fluttering your lashes at him with an attitude instead.

”But if you really can’t stand the thought of spending like another hour with me, I’ll turn around right now, honey.” You know he means it, feeling his foot slowly press on the brake in anticipation for your answer, “Just say the words.”

‘Say it, say turn around Steve.’

“Take me somewhere with fries.”

When you left Robin’s house this morning, you didn’t think watching Steve juggle two shakes and a large order of fries to the booth you’re sitting at with a heart so full it threatens to crack your chest, was where you’d end up at. His cheeks flush a deep shade red almost losing his footing, lovesick eyes too busy staring at you to watch where his boots land.

God, this was not a part of the plan.

“I got you strawberry,” his grin is proud, remembering your favorite from high school when he drops your cool treat in front of you, and instead of sliding into the seats across the table, he plops down into the spot right next to you, knees bumping underneath the wood.

“What if I wanted chocolate?” You tease, body turning into a lit match pressing into his side.

“That’s what I got, and maybe, if you ask nicely,” he breathes, leaning in close enough for the tips of your noses to brush, “I’ll share.”

You wonder if he can hear the way you swallow at his tone over that oldies station that plays in the Hawkins Diner.

“No thanks, you can keep your cooties.” Sighing, you have to fight the twitch of your lips tearing your eyes away from him to focus on the fried potatoes in front of you.

”I think it’s a little late for that baby, I’m afraid you’re completely covered in them.” He doesn’t hesitate to press a sloppy kiss on your cheek that's loud enough to catch the attention of the girls that’d been staring at him since the two of you walked in.

”Steve!” You try to scold, but the smile that spreads across your face gives you up, even if you wipe the kiss away with the back of your hand.

”What?” He smirks, grabbing a few fries and plopping them in his mouth and you try not to focus on the way his tongue darks out to collect the salt left over on his lips.

“I can’t stand you.”

It’s impossible to keep a straight face around him, even avoiding the playful gold that swirls in his gaze that hasn’t stopped showering you with adoration.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep better at night.” He shrugs, taking a big swig of his shake, subtly scooting closer so your thighs touch.

The two of you eat in a peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head swimming with questions as your morning starts to really sink in. But your nerves make it impossible to focus on just one, especially every time you fingers brush, catching his small smirk from the corner of your eyes.

”So tell me something,” you try, ignoring the slight shake in your voice, “How did Steve Harrington, ‘king of Hawkins’, become a mechanic? I always thought you’d be in some big office with a suit working for your dad.”

You notice the sour look that contorts the handsome features on his face at the former nickname again and you immediately feel bad for saying it. His thick eyebrows furrow, marrying in the middle as he tries to shake it off with a few harsh blinks grabbing another handful of fries.

”Umm, I did work for my dad’s firm for like six months actually.” He confesses, clearing his throat before tossing them into his mouth. “I think we hate each other even more now.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude that's not why I asked -“

”Honey, you’re fine.” He smiles warmly, a big palm finding the top of our thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it occupy the space permanently.

”Turns out I’m a terrible office manager. I’d get super overwhelmed, which made me disorganized and we’d lose clients making my dad pissed, then one day I just kinda snapped after he laid into me in his office. Had a panic attack and then never showed my face there again.”

”Steve-“

“I knew he was going to fire me anyway, it’s fine” he laughs, running his free hand through his hair, the other sliding down your thigh so his thumb can rub circles into the soft skin next to your knee cap.

“So I wallowed in self pity for a month before Eddie started needing help at the shop. At first it just gave me something to do, he’d teach me a few things and turns out, I’m actually pretty good at it. It honestly feels really fucking freeing to stop being the person everyone expected me to be.”

He smiles with all his teeth, the kind of pride radiating off of him that makes the hard brick wall you’ve built around yourself start to soften, cracks forming in its foundation.

”Well, it looks good on you Harrington.” You have to look away when you say it, the butterflies becoming unbearable, because you weren’t supposed to feel like this. “I guess.”

He snorts at your stubbornness, bumping shoulders with you before snatching your strawberry shake earning the kind of glare that makes him realize he’s never going to get over you.

Steve’s one hour lunch turns into two, almost becoming three getting lost in the kind of conversation that barely scratches the surface of everything you’ve missed. It’s all hushed tones, sweet eyes, and linked fingers that threaten to make you fold again, with the only thing saving you is the reminder of the mess you made on top of his client's Corvette, and Steve reluctantly admitting he needed to leave so he didn’t actually lose his job in the morning.

It didn’t matter though, he got his date.

And when he pulls up to Robin’s he doesn’t hesitate to steal your breath away, grabbing you by the chin, giving you the kind of kiss over the center console that leaves you dizzy, just like in high school. He doesn’t ask for his chain back, and you don’t offer it, bounding up the stairs to the apartment with it shimmering against your chest.

🌻chapter five

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #mechanic!steve #mechanic!eddie

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misctf · 27 days

Text

A New Daddy

Aaron sighed as he kicked another rock down the walking path. He found himself here a lot nowadays. It offered him some much needed peace and a place to think about his life. In reality, Aaron was overjoyed. His wife was due any day and he’d be a father soon. But Aaron was anxious. His dad was not much of a father and left the family when he was young. And because of that, the soon to be father was worried... what if he was a bad father? What if he messed up something? He never had a real role model. With another sigh, he sat down on the edge of a small pond and started skipping stones. As he looked out over the lake, he didn’t register the strange glow coming from the stone in his hand.

“I just wish I’ll be a good dad.” He whispered as he tossed the stone.

He watched as the stone hopped across the pond and with each hop glowing slightly brighter. He was fixated on the strange glow- it was perhaps one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. But his amazement quickly subsided as he felt a cool breeze pass over his bare skin. Wait... bare skin!? Aaron jumped up and looked down at his naked form. He quickly covered his junk and looked around in terror. Where’d his clothes go? What if someone saw him? Wait... since when did his chest hair look like that? Aaron watched as the light dusting of chest hairs that adorned his toned chest started to darken. And as they darkened, more started to sprout across his pale skin. He raised his hand to his chest, confirming that these new growths were real, but quickly yelped in surprise when he noticed the same wiry dark hairs sprouting across his arms.

“I need to get help.” He whispered, turning his attention away from the thick pelt that was growing over him, “Where’s my phone? Fuck did that disappear to? I’ll just need to ask someone... anyone...”

Aaron took a step forward to start his search and cried out in pain as his foot touched the ground. It felt like all the muscles in his body were contracting. He watched through teary eyes as his calves and thighs exploded with muscle- thickening and becoming large like tree trunks. He winced as he raised his arms and watched as his previously thin and toned musculature started to thicken. His forearms were first, followed by his biceps and triceps, which were becoming padded with thick layers of muscle and fat. While incredibly painful, he was amazed. What guy doesn’t dream of having muscles like this? But this wasn’t natural and he couldn’t do anything as his body continued to transform against his will. Aaron watched as his flat, but now hairy abdomen, pushed out with layers of fat. He’d never be called “beanpole” again, he realized. But just as his stomach was blossoming into a firm muscle gut, his hairy chest was following closely. He packed on layers of muscle and fat to his previously toned chest. All the while, a pleasure was building from nipples, which were becoming larger and perkier. Aaron let out a silent cry as a cold sweat washed over him and his muscles relaxed.

“I... need... help...” He breathed out, flipping over and forcing himself up.

He stood unsteadily on his thickened legs. He was certainly taller than before. And as he tried to reorient himself, he became unbalanced and fell to his knees. He met his reflection in the still pond water. It was still him. His light dirty blond hair, kind eyes, and youthful face. But... but he couldn’t help but noticed that his stubble looked slightly darker. And before he could do anything, he watched with dread as his facial hair became darker and started to form into a manly beard. He couldn’t turn away as he watched his dirty blond hair fall from the top of his head, until he was completely bald. And then a new feeling washed over him as his skin became tougher and weathered as his body aged rapidly.

“No... fuck no.” He whispered as he turned away from his new reflection, “This... how did this?” He winced at how gruff and deep his new voice was. This didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. He felt tears in his eyes as he looked down as his hairier, older, and thicker form.

And suddenly the world spun around him- shifting and changing rapidly. The now older man felt his head spin as the world around him changed. He was no longer in a park, but instead what looked like a home workout room. Weights and equipment scattered all around him. And as the world stopped spinning, he attempted to regain his footing, but fell with a loud bang.

“Fuck!” He shouted, his deeper voice again causing him to wince. He quickly looked around, but everything seemed to be tinted darker, “Sunglasses?” He whispered as he caught sight of himself in the gym’s mirror, “What am I wearing?” It looked like some type of leather harness wrapped around his chest, causing his muscular pecs to be more pronounced, “At least I’m not naked anymore.” He mused, looking down at the white jockstrap that covered his dick, “Where the fuck am I? I need to find Amy and get help...”

“Daddy?” Aaron froze when he heard the high-pitched, feminine, yet decidedly male voice. He turned and locked eyes with the man, “Oh my god, daddy are you okay?”

Aaron’s eyes widened as the younger man ran towards him, wearing nothing more than a light-blue jockstrap. Each step causing the platinum blond man’s ass to bounce. Aaron was mesmerized, his eyes fixated on the guy’s massive bubble butt. How perky and jiggly it was. How much he wanted to squeeze it. Wait? Squeeze it?

“I don’t need you.” Aaron spat, picking himself up, “Get away from me!” Wait... why was his cock growing? He wasn’t into men? Or their sexy asses. Sexy? Aaron gripped his head, “Wait... no... stop...”

“But daddy, I just want to help you.” The twink bit his lower lip and walked up to Aaron, “And you’ve been working so hard.” He traced his hands along Aaron’s hairy muscular torso, “Please daddy, just a taste.” He moaned as his hand slipped under Aaron’s jockstrap.

Aaron’s mind was filled with conflicting thoughts. He was going to be a father... but wasn’t he already a daddy? A daddy? A damn good daddy, right? But didn’t he like women? Wasn’t he married? Why would he be married? Since when was he ever with a woman? Since when did he ever want to be with a woman?

“Please daddy.” The twink moaned as he pulled down the jockstrap, freeing Aaron’s cock. And he didn’t protest.

As the twink wrapped his mouth around the older man’s cock, Aaron’s mind spun even faster. It felt so good, so much better than any time with a woman. And as he looked down at the slut on his knees, his ass jiggling with each thrust of Aaron’s monster cock, a new feeling washed over him.

“Deeper, boy.” Aaron commanded, gripping the back of the twink’s head and forcing his cock deeper, “Show daddy how much you want it.”

The twink obliged and Aaron threw his head back in pleasure. His spinning thoughts were settling down. His new identity taking hold. He was a dom daddy. A good daddy for his little slut. Nothing before this mattered- nothing ever mattered, just this. Even his old self was becoming content, quieting down and falling into a state of blissful pleasure. After all, he just wanted to be a good daddy? Wish granted, right?

“God damn, boy!” Aaron shouted as he came, sending torrents of cum down his slut’s throat. He sat down on the workout bench, while his slut breathed heavily.

“Oh daddy, thank you.” The twink moaned, “You’re the best daddy ever.”

Aaron smirked, “Damn right, boy.” He smirked at himself in the mirror. Fuck he looked good. A true man. His attention turned back to his slut, “Now boy, are you ready for round two?”

#male tf #male transformation #straight to gay #mental change #age progression #wish gone wrong

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serpentandlily · 1 month

Text

Untouchable IX - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst, physical torture, violence

a/n: guys, I’m so sorry this part took a long time to come out. I hope this chapter is worth the wait! Part 10 will be the final chapter/epilogue :)

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part IX

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Days might’ve gone by…days…months…years. Time was an elusive being to you. Had been since the moment the mating bond had snapped between you and Azriel. Since that one last second you got to have with him—your mate.

Koschei kept you strung up in chains, your wrist shackled above your head, your feet barely touching the floor. Your entire body ached with pain. Blood crusted on the white slip he had you put in.

When he had shadowed you back to his small cabin on the lake, you had assumed he would turn you into one of the swans, like he had with the other girls. But apparently, none of you had ever learned the full story.

Vassa had certainly never mentioned this part. Not that you blamed her. You wouldn’t want to talk about it either. How he liked to beat the girls he captured, break them in, before transforming them into one of his pets—forever tied to this lake.

You didn’t want to give up but it was getting harder and harder each day. But you had to. You couldn’t let that day in the clearing be the last time you got to see Azriel…to see your mate.

A few tears leaked from the corner of your eyes at the thought of him, of how he must be feeling with you gone. Everything you both had wished for had come true only to last for a mere second in time before the universe tore you apart once more. It was cruel. It was… no word could come close to describing it. It couldn’t be the end of your story. You couldn’t let it be.

The door to the room you were confined in opened and you whimpered at the sight of the sorcerer.

“Oh, little pet,” he purred, “Are you not happy to see me? And here I thought we were finally making progress.”

“Fuck you,” you groaned, swaying on your shackles as you tried to distance yourself from him.

He gave you a serpentine smile. “The stubborn ones are so much more fun to break.”

You glared at him as he stalked over to you, a cup of water in his hands. You had kicked and bucked the first few times but after all of the torture he put you through the past hours, you had no energy left to do anything but dangle there.

“Now, are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?” He held up the water to your mouth but you twisted your head away, slamming your lips shut. “Ah, the hard way it is.”

Excitement filled his eyes as he landed a punch straight in your gut, knocking the air right out of your lungs. You gasped and he grabbed your chin roughly, squeezing the sides of your mouth and making it impossible to snap your jaw shut.

He poured the water into your mouth but you spit it back up, right on his face. You knew it was full of faebane because this was the third time he had come in here to give it to you.

He growled as he wiped away your spit before slapping your cheek hard enough that your head whipped to the side and blood swelled in your mouth. You heaved, letting it trickle down your jaw and onto the floor.

He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to face him again, hooking his fingers over your bottom teeth and yanking your jaw open once again. This time when he poured the water into your mouth, he quickly slammed it shut and plugged your nose.

“Drink it,” he ordered.

You glared at him defiantly but it did nothing to help you as you ran out of air and choked the water down. He let go of you and you greedily sucked in air.

“Good girl,” he grinned. “See how much easier it is when you listen to me?”

You said nothing. You couldn’t. Not as the faebane coursed through your body, extinguishing all the magic that had started to replenish as the last batch wore off. Not as your wounds and bruises stopped healing and pain slammed into your body.

The faebane he liked to give you was partially diluted. Just enough to let it wear off quicker so you had time to heal in between his sessions but not enough to fully heal or get your magic back. He liked working with a clean canvas but didn’t let your magic linger enough to rid you of pain entirely.

Koschei circled around your hanging body and you heard him fiddling behind you. The sound of leather in his palm had you squirming.

“Now, where were we?”

The crack of the whip against your back rippled through your body and you couldn’t fight the scream that erupted from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to push your consciousness into the deepest crevices of your mind, where you might find the tiniest bit of solace as one name constantly repeated in your thoughts.

Azriel.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Azriel growled at his High Lord. “I’m leaving. Now.”

Both Azriel and Rhysand looked worse for wear. Rhys’s face was littered with bruises and cuts and Azriel was sure he looked no better. But he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was that his mate was in the hands of that fucking sorcerer and he was going to rip that male apart limb by limb for ever thinking he could take her.

“We need to think this through, Az,” Feyre pleaded. “If you rush in, you’ll end up dead and be of no help to Y/n.”

Azriel’s hands tightened into fists. These past two days had been hell. Once Rhys had misted the Prince in the clearing, he had winnowed the three of them back to Velaris—to start planning their rescue mission.

He hadn’t even gotten two words out before Azriel pounced on him. He could barely remember those first few hours after she had been taken. All he knew was the anger he felt—the rage. The mating bond snapping into place. The bargain breaking. And her…his love being taken away from him, his heart and soul with her.

And Rhys, the fucking asshole, had been at the center of his anger. For making him agree to that bargain with him in the first place. For making him stay away from her—his mate.

It had taken Cassian, Mor and Feyre to pull them apart that day.

He had stopped starting fights with Rhys but his anger still pulsed under his skin, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"We've had plenty of time to think,” Azriel snapped at his High Lady, causing Rhys’s head to shoot up with a warning glare.

“Watch your tone,” Rhys bit back at him.

“Fuck you, Rhys!” Azriel slammed his scarred hands down on the desk between them. “I’m going and I swear to the Gods if you try to stop me, I’ll rip your throat out!”

“No, fuck you, Azriel!” Rhys yelled, standing up to his full height. “Stop acting as if you’re the only one affected by this! She was my sister long before she was your mate! Maybe if you hadn’t gone behind my back—”

“Maybe if you hadn’t made us make that stupid bargain with you in the first place, we would’ve never had to! I could’ve had centuries with her. You stole all those years from us!”

The second the bond snapped between him and his mate, Azriel swore he lived a whole lifetime. A whole lifetime they hadn’t been afforded. It had all flashed right before his eyes. His mate…His beautiful mate. She deserved so much better than this and as soon as he got her back in his arms, he would give her the whole world. He'd tear the sun from the sky if it would make her happy.

“Guys, stop! This fighting between the two of you has only made things worse! Fight all you want once we get Y/n back, but you need to focus. Both of you. For her sake,” Feyre snapped.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, letting out a noise of frustration. His shadows swarmed around him like a monsoon—screaming his mate’s name over and over again in agony. “You don’t understand, Feyre. Every single time I feel her…during those tiny moments she slips through to the bond…all I feel is her pain. He’s torturing her. How am I supposed to sit here while my mate is being tortured?”

He turned away from them, unable to look at Rhys any longer as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He had completely and utterly failed his mate. Had let her get into the arms of an enemy. This was all his fault…all of it. She would’ve never even ran away from Velaris if he had never tried to move on with Elain last year. He put those thoughts in her head and there was nothing he regretted more in his life. He had never wanted Elain. He had never even wanted Mor. He had tried, when he thought Rhys’s sister was off limits, to move on. But he had never, ever stopped loving her. He had never felt anything for anyone other than her.

And she had been ripped away from him before they could even have a life together.

“That’s it,” Rhys whispered from behind him. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“What?” Azriel snarled, whipping around.

“You said you can feel her sometimes—through the bond, right?”

Azriel nodded his head, crossing his arms.

Rhys stroked his jaw in thought. “He must be drugging her with faebane. But not consistently. There must be small moments when it wears off before he gives her another dose. That’s why you can feel her sometimes.”

“Where are you going with this?” Feyre asked.

“We can use the mating bond to tell us when to act,” Rhys explained. “When Azriel can feel her, we know her magic is regenerating. We should stop looking at this as battle and more like a stealth mission. We bait Koschei into coming to the water’s edge the moment Azriel feels my sister down the bond—act like we are declaring war. Keep him distracted long enough for her to get back most of her power. Meanwhile, Azriel can slip into the cabin, release her from whatever binds he has her in and get her out.”

“What about the wards around the cabin? No one can winnow in or out. Even Az’s shadows might set it off.”

“I’ll have to get inside without using any magic,” Azriel said. “I can do it. I can get to her. As long as you keep him distracted and buy me enough time.”

“Helion has given Y/n some lessons on setting and breaking wards,” Rhys added. “Once she sees you, once she realizes she’s being saved, she can start working on breaking them so she can winnow the two of you out.”

“And you trust that she’ll be able to do that?” Feyre asked.

Rhys let out a long sigh. Azriel knew how much it would pain him to have to force his sister to save herself. Rhys had always been the one doing the heavy lifting for their family, always keeping his sister as protected as he could, especially after she almost died. But he couldn’t save her this time.

He’d need to have faith in her.

“She can do it,” Azriel declared, full of confidence in his mate’s abilities. “She is not that little girl in the woods anymore, Rhys. You’ve trained her. I’ve trained her. She is more than capable of this.”

“I know she’s not,” Rhys whispered. “She hasn’t been. Not for a long time. And I’m sorry, Azriel, I truly am. You’re right. I should’ve never forced you to make that bargain.”

“Save your apology for when I get my mate back,” Azriel spat out. Maybe it was unfair, but he was not ready to accept any apologies from Rhys. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

If their plan worked, Azriel would have his mate back in his arms, back in Velaris, safe and sound by tonight. It had to work. It had to work because there was no way he could go through another sleepless night in an empty bed. He needed her like he needed the air in his lungs; he simply could not live without her. He would either be back in Velaris tonight with his mate or six feet under because he wasn’t leaving this damn lake without her.

The Valkyries are ready, Az.

Rhysand’s voice in his head caused his fists to clench. He was not any closer to forgiving him than he was yesterday but that was a problem for a different day. Right now they’d have to work together to get his mate back and nothing would stand in his way, certainly not his own pride.

The plan was simple in theory. They had decided to use Koschei’s weakness against him—females. Some of the Valkyries were willing to help and he trusted their training. If things went correctly, they wouldn’t even need to fight.

Azriel was crouched, hiding and waiting for the mating bond to begin singing again. He hated that he couldn’t just rush in and take her. Hated that she was likely being tortured as they sat out here waiting for the right moment to begin their plan. Azriel was used to having to wait around like this. It was a part of his job, after all. But right now, it was excruciating.

But finally… finally he felt it. That tiny spark. That gold thread reforming.

It’s time, Rhys.

Okay, wait for the signal.

They had to lure Koschei out. He couldn’t see though because he was waiting behind the cabin on the other side of the lake, ready to fly to one of the landings so he could sneak his way inside.

Alright, we’ve got his attention. Good luck, Azriel. Bring my sister home but make sure you come home too.

He couldn’t promise his brother that. He wasn’t leaving here without her, no matter what happened.

I will.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A noise caused you to look up despite the pain the movement caused. Your eyes widened in surprise as a shadowed figure stood in the doorway, blue light emitting from their form. Your vision was going in and out of focus, blurring everything. You blinked one…twice…

The person finally stepped into the light.

“Az?” You wheezed out.

Azriel swore and rushed forward until he was right in front of you, holding your face in his hands. He was speaking but you couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in your ears. You must be hallucinating. There was no way Azriel was really here in front of you. It was not possible…

“—can you hear me, baby? Fuck, we’ve got to get you out of these chains.”

“Az,” you rasped again, “Is…is this real? Are you real?”

His beautiful hazel eyes met yours again, the emotion swimming in them threatening to tear your heart right out of your chest. Pain, rage, desperation, guilt. Your eyes flooded with tears of relief.

“I’m real. I’m here with you, baby,” he said, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m going to get you out of these chains, okay? And then I’m going to get you out of here.”

“H-how?” you stuttered out because you had no idea how he was standing here in this cabin when it seemed like an impossible feat.

“Later. I'll explain later. Do you think you can start trying to take down the wards around this place?”

"I'll try," you whispered but your magic had barely started regenerating. The wounds on your back weren't even beginning to heal yet.

The sound of a door slamming open rang through the house. You let out a whimper and Azriel’s eyes widened in fear as he looked at you but not fear for himself…fear for you.

“Fuck, we’ve got to go. Now,” he said, frantically.

The fear in his eyes faded to cold, hard rage and he grabbed the chains above your head and yanked them apart with his bare hands. You collapsed to the ground, crying out in pain, your legs unable to hold you. Azriel caught you on the way down, kneeling with you.

“I’ve got you, babygirl,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You could still feel the wounds on your back bleeding, some ripping open as you curled in towards Azriel. Your head was still pounding, your body still in agony. Azriel wrapped his arms around you and helped you stand up, letting you lean your entire weight against him. Stomping footsteps were coming down the hallway, almost to the room you were being kept in.

“We need to get out of here,” he was frantically whispering, his hands holding you by the upper arms, your wrists still in cuffs with a bit of the chain attached.

You stood on shaky legs, raising your head to see Koschei standing in the doorway, his face twisted into a grin that sent chills down your spine.

“Az!”

Azriel twisted around, his wings flaring out protectively to block you just as Koschei sent a blast of dark magic careening your way. It came at the two of you so fast, Azriel was unable to throw up a shield.

You were able to yank Azriel behind a stack of crates just as the wave of darkness clipped his wing. He let out a cry of pain, his entire body tensing as the darkness ripped through tendon and bone. You nearly cried out with him as the wing that was hit fell limp.

“Did you think you could fool me with your little plan, shadowsinger?” Koschei purred out as the two of you hid behind the crates. “Did you think I’d let you steal my pet? You’re a fool!”

Despite the agony he was in, Azriel twisted the two of you around, covering your whole body with his. Another blast of darkness caused the crates in front of you to explode to pieces, sending splinters of wood flying that pierced through any exposed skin and you let out a tiny scream of fear.

Azriel pulled you up and helped you run further back in the room, unable to leave with Koschei blocking the door. Another blast of magic hit the both of you just as you ducked behind a rack of the weapons and tools Koschei had been using to torture you with.

You cried out in pain, your jaw smacking against the floor with a sickening crunch. Blood filled your mouth as you pushed yourself up, your whole body aching, turning to make sure Azriel was okay.

But Azriel had taken the brunt of the hit, shielding your body as much as he could. A deep laceration cut across his torso, blood seeping over his leathers. His body was tense, his wing still limp on the floor. You knew he was holding back his cries of pain for your sake.

The sorcerer strided into the room, leisurely, as if this was at most a minor inconvenience to him. Darkness seeped from his figure, tendrils running along the floor towards the two of you.

“I’m going to distract him,” Azriel whispered to you. “You need to make a run for it. The Valkyries will be waiting for you, okay? They’ll help get you home.”

“No,” you cried out, clinging to the front of his leathers. “I’m not leaving you behind, Azriel!”

Azriel stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re going to have to, princess. I need you to get out of here, do you hear me? Get out of here and go as far away as you possibly can. The others will find you, I promise.”

Tears filled your eyes as he held your face with such care and tenderness. His own eyes were filled with that same cold rage and a heavy resolve. You shook your head rapidly.

“I’m not leaving you, Azriel,” you repeated.

“Why don’t you come on out, shadowsinger?” Koschei called out, his voice filled with amusement. “You can fight me for the girl. I’ll even let you make the first move.”

Azriel was the most powerful warrior you knew but even he would be no match for a Death God. Facing Koschei would mean certain death and by the way Azriel was staring at you, he knew that. His eyes traced over your entire face as if he were committing it to his memory.

“I’m so sorry, princess,” he whispered to you, his thumbs stroking away your tears. “I’m sorry for ever making that bargain that kept me away from you but I want you to know that even after all those years, it has always—will always—be you that I love. You were my first and only love and I’m so sorry that I can’t give you the life you deserve. I will find you in the next one, I promise, even if I have to crawl my way out of hell to get back to you. Even if I have to tear apart the universe, I will find you. You are my mate and even death can’t take that away from us. I love you. I will always love you.”

“Azriel,” you choked out, your fingers tightening on his leathers, but he simply placed his hands over yours and lightly tore them from him. “Az, you can’t—”

Azriel cut you off, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. A kiss full of love and despair. You tasted your salty tears through it, tears that kept pouring at the realization that this was the very first kiss the two of you shared that didn’t cause him any pain.

And it would be your last.

Azriel stood up as much as he could, his right wing still dragging along the floor. Bruises were appearing on his jaw, blood still poured from the wound on his chest.

“Azriel, no!”

You reached out for him, to yank him back, but he stepped away, exposing himself to Koschei.

“Look at you,” Koschei said with a grin, “So ready to die for your love. I’m going to enjoy killing you in front of your mate.”

“Fuck you,” Azriel snarled as he spat out some blood. “If I’m dying here then I’m dragging you to hell with me.”

Shadows exploded from Azriel in a swirl of never ending darkness that launched itself towards Koschei. But Koschei’s own darkness seemed to absorb it and grow in size before he sent it careening back to Azriel. It burned through the blue shield Azriel had thrown up and knocked straight into him, sending him flying through the room until he collided with the back wall which nearly buckled under the force.

You screamed out for him, trying to stand but falling once again. You were dehydrated, starved, and beaten within an inch of your life but you pushed your body as much as you could, using the edge of the table to help you stand as Koschei stalked towards your mate.

Azriel had wanted you to disable the wards....If you could do that, if you could tear them down, you could try winnowing to Azriel so the both of you could winnow away before Koschei killed either of you. You were wheezing as you forced yourself to stand and concentrate. You had to do this. You had to get Azriel out of here.

Koschei descended on him once again and they began a battle of shadows and darkness. You could hardly keep track of either of them as they began to disappear and reappear in other places with their shadows, each taking shots at each other. You winced at every noise of their magic colliding, winced at every brutal hit Azriel took from the Death God.

You could feel more of your magic renewing itself, the open wounds on your back finally starting to heal. As more and more pain wore off, you focused your energy into tearing down the wards, trying to drown out the sound of the fighting in the room for now.

It was like an intricate spider web of silver light. One you'd have to disentangle carefully to not trigger. You had no idea what sorts of traps lay in the magic around this place. So strand by strand, piece by piece, you worked on taking it apart. It just had to be enough, enough to give you a small window of opportunity.

You heard Azriel cry out and your focus slipped for a second. You frantically looked over your shoulder and screamed his name as Koschei slammed him into the ground a few yards away. His condition had worsened, his face had gone pale from all the bloodloss, less shadows seemed to be swirling around him as his magic weakened from all the use. You had to hurry.

“Go,” he rasped out, glancing your way. “Y/n, go—run!”

But you wouldn’t…couldn’t. You couldn’t leave him to face this alone.

You tried to remember everything from your lessons with Helion on spellcleaving. Tried to remember how to spot what strand to pull and when, as if the ward was a symphony of sorts and you were playing its violin. One after the other. Twisting and pulling each and every way until finally… finally, you were able to carve out a small hole. But it needed to be bigger. Big enough to winnow through.

Suddenly, something sharp struck within your chest and you fell to your knees in pain, losing your concentration. You clutched at your chest, your heart feeling like it was tearing itself into two. A feeling of dread and terror washed over you when you realized the mating bond that was beginning to fray as life was being sucked from Azriel. Another stab of agony made you crumble all the way to the ground, crying out.

You looked up to see Azriel on his knees in the center of the room. His breathing was heavy and slow, he was covered in his own blood, his leather armor torn to pieces and bruises decorated his beautiful face. His wings were slumped on the ground, the right one still nearly shredded. And above him stood the Death God, his darkness wrapped around your mate's throat, ready to squeeze the remaining life out of him.

Time seemed to pause in that minute—like the whole world was about to collapse in on itself. The breath was sucked right from your lungs. The very fiber of your being was crying at the sight of your mate on death's door, ripping itself apart as you felt his pain like it was your own. Your hand inched on the ground towards Azriel as you weakly called out his name.

His head turned slightly, his eyes widening as he realized you hadn’t ran away like he had hoped you did. That you were still here with him. He shook his head at you, unable to speak, trying to will you to get up and make a run for it before it was too late. But you would die here with him, because no part of you wanted to live without him.

They always say your life flashes before your eyes when you're on the brink of death.

But that is not what happened.

Instead, a life you never lived did.

A private mating ceremony with Azriel, declaring your love for each other as a priestess tied a ribbon around both your hands, linking you forever. Azriel painstakingly building a small cottage for you on the edge of Velaris with his own hands just because the ones you toured weren’t like the one you had dreamt of. A life where you and Azriel were together, mated and married, living in that cottage on the outskirts of Velaris. You and Azriel on a balcony watching starfall as he gently placed a hand on your round belly. Azriel with his arms wrapped around you, pressing kisses to your neck as you watched two children who resembled the two of you running through the tall grass in the meadow behind your home.

A whole life that they two of you could've had. A life that was stolen from you because of a bargain made three hundred years ago. A life you would never get to live because this would be your ending. Two lovers torn apart for centuries, finally able to be together as they wished only to met their demise before their life together even began.

No.

You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, crawling on your hands and knees towards your mate.

No.

This would not be your ending. You wouldn't allow it. No, too much had been stolen from the two of you and this...this was not how your story together would end.

You channeled all your magic, pulling from the depths of your soul, pulling from parts of yourself you didn't even know existed, all the way down to the core of your being. You were the Princess of Night—a child of night and shadow, for Gods’ sake. A child born with the darkside of the moon in her. A child blessed with magic. You pulled and pulled at your darkness until it was pouring out of you, seeping from your skin and bones.

It lurched forward and slammed into the Death God, pushing him away from Azriel—away from your mate.

Death would not have him today because he was yours.

Azriel fell forward onto his hands, gasping for air. You stood up, limping over to Azriel and standing in front of him, glaring at Koschei. You didn’t have any armor on, still in the tattered night gown with your wrists shackled together, didn’t even have a weapon, but you had your magic back and it would have to be enough.

Koschei chuckled, standing up and dusting himself off. Although he had brought Azriel to his knees, the Death God hadn’t escaped without injuries of his own, a testiment to Azriel’s power.

“You know,” Koschei said, striding towards you. “I thought we’d have more time together—you and I. But it seems like you’re more trouble than you’re worth, child. So now, I shall end you and your mate. Hm, two mates dying together, how romantic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, your darkness curling around your form. Azriel was weakly calling out your name from behind you, his hand reaching to grab you so he could push you away but you didn’t let him.

“You know, this is the most excitement I’ve had in a long time. I’m feeling rather charitable so I’ll offer you this—become one of my swans and I’ll let your mate go.”

Azriel let out a growl from behind you that nearly shook the room but you stepped forward, as if considering it. Koschei’s body relaxed, thinking the fight was over, like you hoped he would.

But the darkness that was curling around you shot forward like a chain and wrapped itself around his neck before he could deflect it. You yanked on it, causing him to choke as he fell to his knees—in the same exact position he had Azriel in before.

His hands clawed at the darkness but you didn’t let up, not for a second. Not as that life you dreamed about replayed in your mind over and over again. Not as you thought of Azriel, your mate. No, you wouldn’t let up. You sent all your hatred, all of your anger into that darkness.

Your darkness spread around the Death God and started shoving its way into him from all orifices, his ears, his mouth. Everywhere until he was being consumed by it.

“You should’ve never laid a hand on my mate,” you growled at the Death God who was gasping for air and then you yanked your rope of darkness tighter and tighter—ignoring the agony you felt as your magic burned through you until your well was drained entirely.

Koschei’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped over finally—crashing to the floor. He…he wasn’t dead. You could still hear his faint heartbeat but he was out cold. You let out a breath of relief.

“P-princess…”

You whirled around as Azriel rasped your name. His hazel eyes met yours for a second, blinking lazily before they closed and he fell to the ground. You let out a cry of alarm and rushed for him, falling to the ground next to him. You wrapped your arms around his limp body, pulling him into your lap. His breathing was labored, heavy. His heartbeat barely audible.

“Azriel,” you cried, brushing some hair from his face. “Come on, baby. Don’t—you can’t…you can’t do this to me. Wake up, please!”

His eyes blinked open for a second and some of your tears fell on his cheeks. You pressed a hand to the deepest wound on his torso, trying to stop some of the bleeding.

“H-hey, princess,” Azriel choked out, a soft smile on his lips, still in a haze.

“Hey, shadowsinger,” you whispered, smiling at him weakly.

“You’re…,” he coughed, a bit of blood dribbling from his lips. He was in bad shape. You needed to get him to a healer. Now. “You’re touching me.”

“I am,” you choked on your own sobs, running your hand down his face. You tried to reach out to your brother through your mind. You didn’t have enough magic left to winnow the both of you out of here.

Rhys…Rhys, please, I need you!

“Y-you’re touching me,” Azriel repeated, his eyes closing. “And i-it feels like…heaven.”

You couldn’t help the bittersweet laugh that escaped as you wiped at the tears still pouring down your cheeks.

Dove, I’m here! Are you okay? Where is Azriel?

“Az, I need you to stay awake, okay? Can you open your eyes for me? Please, baby, just for a little longer.”

He’s here with me but he’s in bad shape, Rhys. I don’t have any magic left. I can’t get us out of here. Please…I don’t know what to do.

“Mm…‘mm so tired,” Azriel slurred out.

“I know, baby, but you’ve got to stay awake. Just for a bit and then you can rest as long as you want to, okay?”

I’m coming, dove. Hold on.

You let out a sob as Azriel’s eyes shut again and his breathing slowed. “No, you can’t do this! You can’t leave me, Az. Not when I finally have you. Come on, baby, wake up!”

Darkness swirled around the cabin and for a second, you thought Koschei had woken up but you sobbed even harder as your brother finally emerged from it. Rhys glanced at the passed out Death God before he saw you holding Azriel on the floor.

“Rhys, please! Please, he needs a healer,” you cried.

Your brother’s eyes widened at the sight of his shadowsinger. He rushed forward, falling to his knees beside you.

“Let me take him,” your brother whispered. You didn’t want to let your mate go but you knew you couldn’t lift him. “It’s okay, dove. Let me help him.”

You passed Azriel over to him, watching your brother take your mate into his arms and lift him off the floor. You stood on shaky legs, your own vision beginning to blacken as the exhaustion of all the magic use finally caught up to you. The last thing you remembered was Rhys winnowing the two of you to some makeshift camp away from the lake and crying out for Azriel before darkness consumed you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

One week later

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The sound of the door opening stirred you from your slumber. You sat up with a groan, your back aching because of the way you had fallen asleep—hunched over in a chair, next to Azriel’s bed where he still lied unconscious, as he had been since the day he’d help you escape from Koschei’s grasp.

You blinked the sleep from your eyes, taking notice of your brother in the doorway. He hesitantly stepped inside the room, closing the door shut behind him softly. You hadn’t spoken to him since you had woken up a week ago. Not when he was part of the reason for all of this, for ever making Azriel stay away from you.

And he knew he deserved your resentment and had kept away for the most part. But you noticed how sometimes after falling asleep you’d wake up with a blanket thrown around your shoulders that smelled like him or there’d be food waiting for you on the bedside table that you knew came from him.

You grabbed Azriel’s hand, squeezing it lightly. You felt comforted by his warmth. Madja wasn’t able to tell how long it would take for Azriel to heal. He had taken a lot of damage, all of it mostly internal because of Koschei’s magic, and that was taking far longer to heal.

You were so scared he’d never wake up. So scared that you never left his bedside. You'd sit here for the rest of your life if you had to.

Rhysand was staring down at Azriel’s limp body, his eyes swimming with tears. You could see the guilt he felt written all over him. He’d almost lost someone he’d considered his brother because of that stupid bargain he’d made him make.

He came around the side of the bed until he was standing beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. Part of you wanted to cringe away from his touch but another part also just really needed him as a brother right now.

“I am so sorry, dove,” he whispered. “Making Azriel make that bargain with me is something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I’m so sorry I kept you away from your mate. I’m so sorry for ever thinking it was my right to control who you loved. I understand if you never want to talk to me again—if you hate me now.”

A moment of silence passed before you stood and looked at him. “Rhys, you fucked up. You really did. I know you were traumatized after mother died—after I almost did, too. What you did has caused me and Azriel so much pain and maybe I’ll be mad at you for it for the rest of our lives but I Rhys, you’re my brother. I could never hate you.”

A small sob escaped from his lips before Rhys pulled you into a warm embrace. You crumbled into your brother’s arms, seeking a type of comfort only he could provide. Your own tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, dove. I’ll keep apologizing until I can’t speak. When Azriel wakes up, whatever you guys want, it’s yours—all of it.”

“I’m so scared, Rhysie,” you cried, burying your face in his chest. “I’m so scared he’s not going to wake up. I’m so scared I’ll never get to talk to him again…”

“Azriel is the strongest person I know,” Rhys whispered into your hair. “He’s going to wake up, dove. As long as you’re here, he will fight his way through whatever is keeping him from you. He’s going to wake up.”

“I never even got to tell him how much he means to me. I never told him how much I love him or how ready I am to accept the mating bond. I never…I never—”

You fell into a fit of sobs again, unable to even speak. Rhys held you tightly, stroking your back.

“He knows, dove. He knows how much you love him. And you’ll get the chance to tell him, okay? You will.”

But all you could do was pray to the Gods that you would get that chance.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A few more agonizing days passed by. Days that seemed longer than the span of your entire life. Days spent next to Azriel’s bedside, praying each and every morning that this would be the day he finally woke. You didn’t lose hope, you couldn’t because just the thought of him never waking up would send you into a spiral so deep, there’d be no pulling you out of it.

You let out a sigh and dropped your head into your hands.

Is this how he felt while you’d been chained in Koschei’s cabin?

You still felt so guilty…guilty that you hadn’t trusted Azriel’s reassurances that there was nothing between him and Elain, guilty that you had fallen for the Prince’s cruel trap. If you had just trusted your mate, he wouldn’t be lying here after nearly dying for you.

“P-prin…p-princess?”

Your heart leaped to your throat and you looked up so rapidly, you almost cracked your neck. Azriel blinked at you in a daze. His eyes held confusion as he glanced around, realizing he was in his room back at the House of Wind. His beautiful hazel eyes met yours again, glowing gold in the soft faelight.

“Azriel,” you breathed out, reaching forward to grab his hand. “You’re…you’re awake.”

“I-I think I am,” he said, his words still slurring a bit. “But you’re touching me and I’m not in pain and normally this usually only happens in my dreams.”

You smiled through the tears sliding down your face, tenderly cupping his cheek.

“You’re awake,” you replied. “You’re awake and I’m here, touching you and it doesn’t hurt because the bargain has been broken. You are my mate, Azriel.”

A dopey smile took over Azriel’s face. “I’m your mate.”

You nodded with a small laugh. “You’re my mate, Azriel. And I am yours.”

“You are mine,” he repeated softly, then lurched forward like all of his memories finally came back. You jumped into action, helping him sit up.

“Careful,” you said. “You’re still healing. You’ve been asleep for a little over a week now.”

“What! W-what happened?”

You brushed some of his hair from his forehand, running your fingers through it. Now that you could touch each other without causing him pain, you weren’t ever going to stop. He leaned into your touch, looking up at you with such reverence and love, it caused your cheeks to turn pink.

“I kind of…lost it when Koschei was about to kill you,” you finally answered, your voice a mere whisper. “My magic erupted and I choked him out. I didn’t kill him but it gave us enough time to get out of there. I broke the wards like you told me to and my brother came for us.”

“Are you telling me that my mate choked out a Death God?” He grinned at you and you lightly smacked his shoulder.

“It’s not funny, Az. You nearly died! Do you know how awful this past week has been? I…I thought I might never talk to you again. I thought you might never wake up!”

Azriel lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm. “I know, babygirl. How do you think I felt all those days you were trapped with Koschei? I wanted to get you the minute he shadowed you away but Rhysand wouldn’t let me go.”

Well, Azriel using your brother’s full name told you exactly how he was feeling towards his High Lord at the moment.

“I’m glad he didn’t,” you said, sternly. “You would’ve died and I would’ve given up. The only thing that kept me going in there was the thought of you, Azriel. The thought that maybe, maybe I could find my way back to you.”

Azriel wiped at the tears falling from your eyes, gently. “I’m so sorry, princess. I’m sorry for everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I wouldn’t change a single thing if it meant that the mating bond finally snapped between us…if it meant that I could have you now.”

“I’m yours in any way you want me, princess,” Azriel reaffirmed, yanking you down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you despite your protests because of his injuries. He placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’m yours from now until always.”

You pulled away to look him in the eyes, your heart pulsing at everything you found in them.

“And I am yours, Azriel,” you whispered. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He smiled, fully smiled. “Good, because I’m never letting you go.”

And then he pressed a passionate kiss against your lips. A kiss free of pain. A kiss that was full of every single emotion he felt towards you—admiration, craving, devotion, but above all else, love.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #rhysand's sister #azriel x y/n #azriel angst

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lorelune · 9 months

Text

(continuation here)

"do you remember me?"

"no."

blade stares at you, tilting his head to the side with a blank expression. you wish you could see any recognition on his face. but it's blank. nothing behind those eyes-- nothing for you, anyways. his hands twitch and itch in his binds. he's coiled, ready to strike. not you though.

(you can delude yourself into thinking that this makes you special. that him not pulling at his chains to hold a sword to your throat or squeezing your neck until it snaps, makes you different. perhaps his urges are curbed at the sight of you--)

(this is wishful thinking.)

he should, maybe you deserve it. it's your sin to bear and remember, maybe. you couldn't dare to tell jing yuan of all of... this, hence why your trip to the shackling prison was in secret. why you're holding your body so tightly.

"i thought so." but i hoped differently. you sigh.

"... why should i?" blade asks, voice hoarse and rough. you can't tell if its from disuse or overuse. he's lived too long.

"we knew each other, once."

('knew'. you're simplifying things for the sake of convenience. lessening the story you share, the lore you carry on your back like a uneroding stone. it's not like blade would care to hear it. you've read his file. he has only a few goals, which he doesn't hide upon interrogation. only one relates to the past, to a different face that you can only scorn along with him.)

(it's all in hate. anguish, under that. nothing of love. nothing at all.)

you laugh, weakly. it feels useless.

your phone vibrates in your pocket. you think it's jing yuan, without even looking at the message. probably wondering where you are. you're a few minutes late for your lunch date.

jing yuan knows this ache too, you think. he knows the feeling that's bloomed in your chest over the course of your visit. how each step that brought you closer to blade's cell pulled and tugged at your ribs like an overgrown flower. petals slicing flesh from the inside out.

(longing that would kill you, maybe. if you could die like that.)

"unsatisfied with my answer?" he asks. there's a soft quality to his voice, just for a breath. it makes you horribly nostalgic.

you need to leave.

"perhaps." you kick the scuffed metal of the floor. the sound rings out through the room as blade's chains jingle. like bells. "it was foolish of me to think you'd have any recollection of it."

"you seem unimportant to me."

it cuts through you. like a knife. as if you didn't once hold the world up for the man in front of you. as if you didn't beg and scream and raze anything in your path for his sake. as if you didn't bear his many burdens. as if you didn't labor to find something, anything, that could've prevented your fates. your current situation.

a prisoner and one freed. aeons know which of you is which.

"goodbye, yingxing." you don't know if he'll recognize his old name-- a name that isn't him anymore. your once-lover is simply a tool now, and he's taken the name of one. you knew this before you entered the prison. and yet--

(you ache with it.)

you turn away without taking in his expression. blade remains silent as you exit his cell.

(part of you prays he'll call out to you. that he'll sound like he once did. that there will be a kind reunion.)

(he doesn't.)

but that's alright, you tell yourself. it's misplaced hope after all. jing yuan is waiting for you, and you know he'll already have ordered your favorite dish. yanqing may join you, given the time of day. he would have just finished up his mornings spars.

all you have to do is compose yourself by the time you reach the general's favorite picnic spot.

(you almost collapse once you leave the shackling prison. the moment you are alone, tucked into an alleyway, you cover your mouth with your palm and weep. you cry until your chest hurts. you cry with a grief that guts you, as it always has. over and over.)

#lore writes #blade x reader #hsr x reader #blade x you #anyways #angst w blade feels so #sooooo #idk how to get into it #it makes me feel the physical pain of grief #snippet of a larger au that's been on the brain too

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nana-au · 25 days

Text

JJK Men React to Finding Out You Like Them

G.Satoru, G.Suguru, I.Yuji, F.Megumi

(I got carried away with Gojo's.. mb)

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

G.Satoru: You could not stand him and his stupid, annoying, ugly (undeniably pretty) face.

Shoko and Geto swore you two bickered like an old married couple. The two of you would scoff, sometimes even pushing each other’s shoulders just to remind the other one who was stronger. It was down right childish the way you both interacted with each other. Pinching and hair pulling. Arguing over who was right and wrong, sometimes even arguing against obvious facts just to piss the other one off. You couldn’t stand his pompous attitude and he couldn’t stand the fact you weren’t in awe of him like he believed you should be. He made every hair on your body stand straight just by his voice or the way his figure loomed over you as he teased you.

“What’s this for?” He mocked, pinching your cheek you dusted with blush.

“None of your business,” you assured him, attempting to punch him in the gut. He would swiftly dodge it, continuing to mock you.

“Surely it isn’t for a boyfriend. I feel bad for any guy dumb enough to be interested in you,” his glasses would slide down his nose as he looked over your figure. You didn’t hesitant to tell him to suck a dick, and it didn’t even cross his mind to not tell you that you wished you could suck his. “I’d never let you though,” he assured you and you would huff out a ‘thank God!’. You would attempt to storm off, but he kept body blocking you, and you were adamant on not making bodily contact with the guy. “Where are you going?” he quizzed and you begged him to drop it - that it was none of his business. You were getting really worked up, more so than usual. His assumption wasn’t necessarily wrong, you were trying to leave for your date with a barista from the coffee shop you frequented in Tokyo. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to let Sensei know. Can’t have you up to no good.”

“Then go tell him!” you huffed. You were going to be running late if the asshole in front of you wouldn’t move. “God Gojo, you are so childish,” he only stuck his tongue out at you. You were about to start shaking with anger and against your better judgment you confessed to him. “Fine! It’s a date, make fun of me all you want when I get back,” your chest was heaving and your blood was hot. To your sudden shock, Gojo stepped out of your way wordlessly and watched as you took off out the doors.

The next few days felt like the Twilight Zone. You did your makeup again and Gojo didn’t even bother to flick your cheeks. When you mentioned to Shoko how nice the weather was, he didn’t argue that it was ‘Just alright’. While Suguru, Gojo, and you were taking turns sparring, he didn’t hide the defeat in his face when you kicked dirt onto him after knocking him on his ass. To you, that was really the last straw. You started to feel evil for continuing your usual antics while he just took it. A few more days went by of you both ignoring each other until one afternoon you were eating lunch with Shoko talking about your date. Geto and Gojo took their usual seats across from you as you both discussed what transpired. “Maybe he doesn’t want to sound needy,” she said when you mentioned he hadn’t texted you back still.

“He probably thinks you're ugly,” Gojo said nonchalantly. It was the first sentence he had spoken to you in days and you had to keep your jaw from dropping to the floor. You weren’t even sure if he really spoke or if you imagined it. Perhaps your brain was filling in the words you wanted to hear from him. Not that you wanted him to call you ugly per se, but the silence from him was worse than the insults.

“So he talks.” His eyes rolled cartoonishly at your words. He stuck a spoonful of rice in his mouth before talking,

“Giv-up,” he mumbled, some rice spilling out of his mouth. Your face contorted with disgust. He swallowed, continuing, “You're unlikeable”.

“Yeah ‘cause you’re so likable yourself,” you scoff. He continued eating and the table dropped it, all choosing to change the topic.

Honestly, you were sure that would be your last conversation with Gojo. You went about your days without his obnoxious presence. You went on another date and were getting fairly close with your favorite barista, even inviting him to meet Shoko. You all agreed to meet up at his cafe and you were awed as he described to you the drinks he made you two. You sipped them and listened as he rambled on about the ristretto shots and the milk foam. Shoko grew bored quickly, but she was happy you were happy.

The bell attached to the door chimed, and the blood in your face drained, leaving you sickly pale. Gojo waved to you, pointing out to Geto where the three of you sat and dragged him along. “What is he doing here?” you frantically asked Shoko. She covered her face to hide her amusement, she had to give it to him, he was about to make this deathly boring conversation into an incredibly entertaining one.

“Since when do you drink coffee?” Gojo asked you, pulling up a chair and sitting next to you. “I thought caffeine made you sick?” he pouted at you, pulling away the latte. He wasn’t wrong, you did tend to feel unwell after having caffeine, but since when did he care?

“I can handle myself, Gojo,” you spat. Gojo ignored you, taking two big gulps from the mug and finishing it then and there.

“Wow you made this?” he asked the guy. He nodded, looking incredibly confused. “Tastes like shit.” With a quickness you were out of your chair and pulling Gojo by the collar of his button down. “Be right back,” he snickered to the barista as you dragged him out the door.

“What is your problem?” You begged. He looked shocked, telling you him and Geto were just walking by when he saw you and Shoko. You were bewildered by the way he was acting, completely stumped as to what you should even say. His hand grabbed yours that was still gripping his collar. He pulled it off and pushed it against the wall, his hand caging yours as he leaned against your intertwined fingers. His eyes watched your lips as you kept opening them to speak, but closing them when you kept losing your words.

“Is this not what you wanted?” His words were breathy and hard to hear. “I know you are doing this-” His free hand gesturing to your figure, “to get a reaction from me.”

“You’ve really lost it now, Gojo,” you couldn’t hide the blush though. He smiled at you regardless, and your legs began to feel weak. It hit you like a truck. His smile was cocky and genuine. It wasn’t coated with his usual delusional smirk, but an all-knowing, teeth-showing grin. It was then you grew nauseous with the knowledge Suguru snitched on your drunk confession.

You hardly remembered that night - Geto had shared his bottle of Jack Daniel’s and you were too much of a lightweight to keep yourself from admitting to him that you enjoyed Gojo’s teasing. That you were infatuated with the white-haired sorcerer and you had really started to like him. That his cocky attitude was not a turn off like you tried to convince yourself and that when he stood over you, making you feel small, you weren’t mad at him but mad you enjoyed the feeling of being towered over by him.

“I’m not dating just to make you jealous,” you tried to stand up for yourself. You really weren’t, the guy just asked you and you had nothing better to do. You got free drinks out of it too- really that was all it was.

“How could I be jealous when I know you like me?”

In Suguru’s defense, when you called him a traitor he assured you it was an accident. He just wanted to get Satoru out of his funk. The day he caught you looking all dolled up, just to find out it was for another man, he couldn’t get out of his own head. He also didn’t understand why he couldn’t. He pestered his best friend for days over it and Suguru had to throw in the towel. You liked him because he heard it from you. And Satoru liked you because he knows his best friend more than anyone.

It was all worth it in the end, because things went back to normal. (Except for the small detail that Satoru and you were now a couple).

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

G.Suguru: The older boy’s reaction made you swoon.

You were a year below him at Jujutsu Tech and you were in awe of his cursed technique and if you were forced to be honest, in awe of him. You must’ve looked like a lost puppy following him around when you insisted on watching him train, joining him to find a snack at the convenience store, and insisting on learning about all the curses he had under his control. He was so kind about it too - always dismissing Gojo when he would groan about how insistent you were. “How can you put up with her? She doesn’t have her own life,” he would say, poking his tongue out.

“She’s just curious, Satoru,” he would reply. He wouldn’t kid himself though, he found you absolutely adorable and didn’t mind having you under his arm all day. You weren’t much younger than him, but you felt as though he held infinite wisdom. Your eyes would twinkle up at him as he shared stories of his missions and his lips would tingle watching yours twitch with ‘oohs” and “ahhs”. He adored the way you would watch him as he ran around the track, shirtless and dripping with sweat. When you joined him he couldn’t help but keep your pace just so he could keep his attention on you. You didn’t know this when you finally confessed, but he was as infatuated with you as you were with him. He was obsessed with how obsessed you were with him. He was by no means struggling in attracting women, but to have you be so casually faithful to him, it was too hard to not take advantage of.

The day you decided to dress up really pretty for your weekly Tuesday walk to Tokyo for lunch at his favorite place was the day you officially confessed. You wore the skirt the two of you saw one day while window shopping - the one he said reminded him of something you would wear. You even applied lip gloss even though you despise the fact your hair always gets stuck in it. “What’s got you looking all pretty?” he would muse.

“Sugu, I like you,” you admitted, quick like pulling off a bandaid. You hadn’t even made it out of the school’s grounds when you confessed. He held out his arm to stop you and blocked the way with his tall figure.

“I already knew that, little one,” he cooed. “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late,” he grabbed your small hand in his and continued forward. It wasn’t an official response, but you knew him so well that it was official enough for you.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

I.Yuji : You swear the boy must be dumb.

Your friends would definitely describe you as the shy type. You never talked out of turn or made your true feelings known so blatantly - but with Yuji - you were really trying. If Yuji said he was hungry, you would always be there to hand him his favorite candy. When his face was caked with dirt and sweat after a mission, you were there with a cloth to clean him up. If he so much as got a paper cut you would insist on applying a bandaid to his finger. You couldn’t tell if you liked helping him more than he liked being helped. He would always smile at you, warm and sincere. His eyes would hold yours, cheeks flushed a light pink. The way he would look at you, head angled down to get a good look at your face, the innocent scrunch of his eyebrows..

“You’re such an amazing friend,” he would say and you had to blink to keep your eyes from rolling back into your head.

One day as he was happily sipping the ice cold tea you bought him, munching on the little pastry you went out of your way to get after he announced - very loudly - how starved he was, you decided enough was enough.

“I like you,” You told him bluntly. He finished chewing his last bite before telling you he liked you too.

“You’re a really good friend,” he smiled. You could feel your body begin to shake as you repeated what you said.

“I like-like you, Yuji. Not friend-like. Like-Like.” Your hands went to grip the grass beneath you, desperately trying to ground yourself. His eyebrows scrunched, as if he was trying to process your confession. You couldn’t hold his eyes when he didn’t immediately respond. You turned your attention to Maki and Nobara who were training not far in front of you. Your eyes couldn’t focus on their figures as your body shouted at you to get up and bury yourself in bed for the day. His hand found your thigh, and you jumped slightly. When your eyes met him again, you swore you never saw him look so serious. His lips were in a thin line, eyes twinkling.

“Maybe I like-like you too,” he spoke only above a whisper and you melted on the spot.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

F.Megumi: The boy was always in his own little world

That’s what you really liked about him. His ability to be quiet, observant, and at times lost in his own thoughts. All though, trying to get him to notice your crush on him would be harder than pulling all of your toenails off one by one. You would lay in Nobara’s bed as she admired the outfits she bought that day, trying her best to ignore your groans.

“I should just give up now,” you whined. You had finished a long winded rant about Megumi, how he never reacted to your attention in the way you craved him to.

“You should give up. I’m sick of hearing it,” Nobara lovingly teased. “Or you could just tell him,” You would gasp at the idea and bury your head into her pillow.

You always found yourself to be the type of girl to read everyone’s feelings. People were like books to you, except for him. Before joining Jujutsu Tech, flirting was second nature to you. But when you saw his messy black hair and cold blue eyes your brain short circuited. You sure would try to flirt though. Giggling at his jokes he thought no one heard or playing with your hair in conversation. You would buy a new perfume and ask him to smell you, or ask if he liked the way you did your makeup that day. He would flush red and obey your asks. He would tell you that you smell great or that your eyelashes looked really pretty, but he would end it there.

A couple days had passed since your rant to Nobara and the four of you were out in Tokyo. Yuji had insisted you all join him to the movies, and with nothing better to do you all obliged. At the theater you paid for your drink and popcorn and made your way to your movie when you noticed Nobara and Megumi weren’t following behind you. You shrugged it off and sat down with Yuji to watch the previews. The lights had already dimmed and the movie just started by the time Nobara came with Megumi in tow. “Sit,” she commanded him, referring to the spot next to you. You watched as Megumi - stiff as a board- took the seat beside you, and continued to shuffle around in his seat trying to get comfortable.

“What happened?” you whispered to him, scared of what Nobara had done to make him act so odd. He didn’t respond and kept his eyes glued to the screen. It went on like that for a while, him still squirming awkwardly in his seat and when a jump scare came on screen and he didn’t react you turned to him again. “You act like you saw a ghost,” you joked to him. He replied dead serious.

“Just saw Nobara, that’s all.”

“What did she do?” You weren’t really sure you even wanted to know. After what seemed like hours of silence he asked if you really did like him.

“Is it true what Nobara said?” Your mouth fell open and he was now completely facing you. You were all there for a screening of a horror movie and right now the main character was in a dark basement making it hard to see any light on Megumi’s face. From what you could see though, he looked flustered but maintained his eye contact with you. Thanks to Nobara it was now or never, and you meekly shook your head at him. He scratched the back of his neck and you could see his Adam's apple bob in his throat. Your face was hot watching him process your confession, not sure if you wanted to punch Nobara or thank her for finally putting you out of your misery. Even if it did mean Megumi no longer wanted to be near you. “I’ve just never had someone tell me that,” he finally spoke. ‘I don’t hate you, just give me time to process that,” he asked. You nodded and turned back to the screen, trying to focus on the protagonist dodging death. You had grown as stiff as him and noticing, he put his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly as reassurance. You both were red in the face, eyes glued to the front of the theater but not actually watching what was on it, lost in your thoughts. The process wasn’t smooth for you two, but your confession made Megumi realize his own feelings. Why he felt nervous when you were in the room and why he doubted his words before speaking to you. You both worked on it together, and your confidence with each other grew. It wasn’t long before you two went to Tokyo alone or sat in each other’s room late at night just talking. Megumi was your boyfriend by the end of the year, and you felt as giddy around him as the day you first met him.

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ashwhowrites · 22 days

Text

Lacy

Ummm this will hurt. Mentions of cheating, we've got smut, and we've got heartache. The first release of the GUTS project I'm working on. I hope you like it and enjoy it!

Lacy, oh, Lacy, skin like puff pastry Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of Hell? Dear angel Lacy, eyes white as daisies Did I ever tell you that I'm not doin' well?

Y/N never experienced a teenage heartbreak, and she wasn't doing well. She and Eddie had been together for almost two years, but it wasn't as full of love as she wished. He used to be in love with her. He used to drive her everywhere just to spend time together. He used to bring her favorite snacks to hellfire, he used to kiss her, and he used to make love to her. When they had sex, it wasn't the same anymore. He used to be warm, and soft, and soak every part of her within his body. Now she can't help but notice he refused to look into her eyes as he sucked on her neck and thrust inside of her. Because if he looked at her, Chrissy would disappear.

"Pretty skin," Eddie whispered as he pecked her body. Y/N knew he was thinking of the white porcelain skin of Chrissy's body. He probably thought about Chrissy's bright eyes.

Eddie finished and rolled over. Not even seconds later he began to snore. Y/N tried to hold in her tears as she slipped out of bed to clean herself up. Something he used to never go to bed without doing. As she left their bedroom, she felt a knife in her back when she saw the framed photo of her and Chrissy.

Ooh, I care, I care, I care Like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time Watching, hidden in plain sight Ooh, I try, I try, I try But it takes over my life, I see you everywhere The sweetest torture one could bear

Y/N tried her best to get Chrissy and Eddie out of her mind, but she couldn't. It almost hurt her more that they were so terrible at hiding it.

Y/N walked through the giant college party Chrissy threw. Eddie was already lost in the crowd and she knew if she found Chrissy, she would find him. She was proven right as she watched Eddie talking into Chrissy's ear, she laughed and smacked his arm. Their bodies leaned into each other.

When they returned home, Eddie was back to his silent self. He kicked off his shoes and headed up into bed.

~~~

Y/N hummed a song as she sorted through the dirty laundry. She emptied Eddie's pants pockets because she had learned he doesn't check. She felt a crumbled piece of paper and pulled it out. She unfolded it and felt that knife in her back again.

"Meet me tonight at the hideout at 8

-xx Chris"

Y/N slipped the paper back in the pants and threw it in the wash. She coughed away her tears as she heard Eddie's feet pounding down the hall.

"Babe?"

"Laundry room," she answered.

"Going to the hideout, don't wait up." He said, he leaned in and placed a kiss on her lips.

She eyed his attractive outfit. The rings on his hands and the smell of the cologne she bought for an anniversary. He was wearing it for Chrissy, and that stung.

"What are you staring at?" Eddie chuckled, which seemed to snap Y/N out of her mind. Y/N looked at the clock on the wall, he had thirty minutes to get to the hideout. Chrissy always wins, but maybe she can win this one time.

"Fuck me, right here and right now," Y/N said, with no emotion in her voice. Eddie was caught off guard. He went to protest or ask her a question but his mouth went dry as she stripped down.

She smiled when he yanked off his shirt and threw it on the floor. His hands on her skin as he shoved his tongue in her mouth. She felt her brain shut off, and for once felt free.

She moaned as he fucked her against the wall. Their sweaty bodies against each other's as she sucked on his neck. She left marks up and down both sides. Relieved he didn't push her away, but melted into her and whimpered.

Her hands were in his hair as she looked at his face. He made the mistake of looking up, now his eyes glued to hers. She could see his eyes changing, a flash of guilt then back to lust. He kept his eyes on hers as he leaned in and kissed her lips. It was a kiss she hadn't felt in months. It was slow and passionate. She could feel the love pouring out of his mouth into hers. The same way he used to kiss her before Chrissy.

She whined into his mouth as she came all over him, gasping as he watched her fall apart. The way he fucked into her softly, the way he smiled and kissed her all over her face. She shifted so he'd drop her legs, she found her feet and kneeled down. She wrapped her warm mouth around his cock. He moaned and held her hair, he helped her move up and down on him. His eyes were still glued to hers. He emptied down her throat, and she looked at the clock.

Eddie walked into the hideout with a sick feeling in his stomach. He usually felt excited to see Chriss but he wished he stayed home. He was in love with two women and didn't know what in the hell to do.

"Hey handsome, you are late." Chrissy smiled as she slid next to him in a booth.

"Sorry, was doing something." He shrugged, he kept thinking of Y/N. At this very moment, he didn't understand why he left. His cock was still sensitive from her and he craved more of her.

"Like having sex?" Chrissy scoffed, her pissed-off glare made Eddie roll his eyes.

"No, I wasn't having sex," he lied as he glared back at her.

"This says otherwise," Chrissy said as she flicked the marks on Eddie's neck.

"I thought you were going to break up with her."

"Chrissy I already told you that I don't know how." Eddie sighed, he was tired of having this conversation over and over.

"Tell her you don't love her anymore!" Chrissy screeched.

"I do love her."

Smart, sexy Lacy, I'm losin' it lately I feel your compliments like bullets on skin

"That dress is gorgeous on you!" Chrissy complimented. As a best friend, she truly meant it, as the competition she was jealous of how perfect Y/N looked.

"Thank you," Y/N said, a short response as she walked to find Eddie.

Chrissy glared as Y/N and Eddie spent the night dancing together. She hated the love shared between them and felt her heart tug every time they kissed.

She wished Eddie didn't love Y/N, or at least didn't love her more. She wished it was easy for Eddie to leave her behind.

"You are breathtaking tonight," Eddie said as he twirled her. She smiled but it felt like a blow to her chest. If she was so breathtaking, why did he breathe for another girl?

Ooh, I care, I care, I care Like ribbons in your hair, my stomach's all in knots You got the one thing that I want

It was Eddie's birthday and Y/N threw him a surprise party at their house. Eddie was delighted to be with all his friends. Y/N invited Chrissy because she didn't want them to be suspicious of what she knew.

Chrissy growled as she watched Y/N feed Eddie his birthday cake as she sat on his lap. It's been a week since she spoke to Eddie at the hideout. That was also the last time she saw him. He ghosted her out of nowhere. It was like he forgot all about her.

Y/N scanned the party and her eyes landed on Chrissy's glare. Y/N felt her stomach turn in knots. It made her sick that Chrissy had the nerve to be jealous when Eddie was hers in the first place. Y/N sent a smile and turned back to Eddie. Chrissy had the nerve to be upset like she hadn't already stolen Eddie away.

"You bake the best cakes, my dear," Eddie said as he pressed a frosting-coated kiss against Y/N's lips. She giggled and kissed back. Humming at the delicious taste.

Y/N had the one thing Chrissy wanted, Eddie's attention.

Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you

And the worst part of it all, Y/N understood why he fell in love with Chrissy. She always saw Chrissy as an angel and beautiful in every sense of the word.

She hated even after it all, she truly believed Chrissy was better. She couldn't stop Eddie from seeing what she saw all along.

The most perfect woman in the world.

Y/N hated herself for accepting it so easily. She hated that she felt like she couldn't blame Eddie for what he has done.

Because Y/N would have done it all too.

tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #ashwhowrites #ashwhowrites original idea #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham #GUTS project

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theemporium · 1 year

Note

3 with james potter pretty please <333

3. “Tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

James Potter fucked up.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he had fucked up, but he knew he fucked up monumentally when you came down for breakfast, slumped down a few seats away from him and totally blanked him.

He played it off as a rough morning at first. After all, you were never a morning person and you seemed pleased enough with him last night when you sat curled under a blanket with him as your friends laughed and joked around you into the early hours of the morning.

He was clearly just overreacting.

But then your shared potions class after lunch came around and you still weren’t talking to him. You weren’t talking to anyone.

“You must’ve done something to piss her off,” Sirius said to him, watching as his best friend slumped back against the grass as he glared above at the cloudless sky.

“No shit,” James grumbled.

“Have you tried talking to her?” Remus asked, propped on his elbows with the book he was previously reading abandoned to the side.

“Well…no,” James murmured, clearing his throat a little when Sirius snorted. “But she won’t even look at me!”

“And how will poor Prongs ever live on when his little girlfriend won’t even smile at him,” Sirius teased, reaching over to poke his cheek only for James to bat his hand away.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” the boy whined helplessly, though both boys sitting next to him knew well enough how much James wished that weren’t true. He just hadn’t quite gained the courage to ask you out yet—how truly Gryffindor of him.

“Just ask her, mate,” Remus suggested with a shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

James established that there were at least three outcomes that could come from asking you, and each was just as bad as the last. One: you wouldn’t even acknowledge his question. Two: you would hex him and then go back to pretending he didn’t exist. Three: you would laugh at the fact he even cared to ask, hex him and then go back to pretending he didn’t exist.

Each left James completely unsatisfied with your sudden distance and a bitter taste in his mouth at the mere idea he may lose you. And despite all these outcomes racing through his head, James still found himself standing outside your dorm, muttering to himself before he bit the bullet and knocked.

It took thirty seconds for you to open the door and they had to be the longest thirty seconds of his life. However, when you did open the door, James barely gave you a chance to properly take in who was even standing across from you before he began rambling.

“Listen, I totally get that you might hate my guts right now and that maybe you wanna hex me but I just need to say this before I lose the chance because it would kill me if you didn’t know that I am so sorry for whatever I have done to make you try avoid me or whatever else it is—”

“James.”

“—but I really like you and this is totally not the time to say it, like at all even and I just—”

“James.”

“—I really wanted you to know that if there is any chance you could forgive me or even tell me what I did so I can rectify it—”

“JAMES!”

The boy stopped suddenly, his cheeks burning red as he took in your expression for the first time and held back his wince. “Tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again. I promise.”

“What are you going on about?” you asked, still feeling bleary and fuzzy from the nap you were taking minutes ago, and not finding much help in the annoyingly bright torches in the corridor.

“I–” James cleared his throat. “You were angry with me today and I just wanna tell you I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done.”

Your brows furrowed together. “James, I’m not angry with you.”

He blinked. “You’re not?”

“No, I’m not,” you sighed.

“But…you ignored me all day,” he murmured, looking a bit like a kicked puppy with his pouted lips.

“I didn’t mean to,” you explained, feeling your face softening and your annoyance from him waking you up quickly melting away. “I just…I woke up with a migraine and it wasn’t getting any better no matter what I did. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, James.”

His lips parted with a soft ‘oh’.

“If it’s any consolation, I was ignoring everyone,” you offered with a weak smile.

“That’s good,” James nodded, eyes widening when he realised what he said and quickly scrambled to take back his word. “Not about the migraine! Not that at all! I just meant….fuck, love, I meant about you not being angry at me—”

“James,” you called softly, a hint of a smile on your lips.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” James asked helplessly.

“Cuddle with me?” you asked in a sweet voice that he could never say no to. “I was trying to take a nap but it would help if I had a wizard who’s always ridiculously hot laying beside me.”

James grinned. “You think I’m hot, love?”

“I take it back. I can nap myself.”

“No take-backs, sweetheart. Now budge over, I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you.”

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heliiacus · 1 month

Text

tags: armin x reader, cheating accusation, jealous armin, hurt reader, insecure armin, hurt/comfort, quick resolution

content warnings: cheating is mentioned! no actual cheating involved

When Armin, amidst his insecure emotions, says something he should not have, the both of you find the situation quickly escalating.

word count: 1.2k

The simple fact of the matter is that you simply can't expect how someone might react. You may try to, through delicate deliberation, or the catalogue of behaviours registered neatly within your memory, but there are days – plentiful ones – where it simply might not work.

Today is one of those days.

Here are the simple, rudimentary facts about your relationship with Armin Arlert. Your relationship is eleven months young. You tell him everything on your mind. He is a restless sleeper. You both hate Italian cuisine. You know that he tends to feel insecure, and he knows that you know.

Simple things. Predictable. Lovely, and easy, and fond within your heart.

You don't argue. You figure things out. You don't assume things.

And yet.

"I," you begin, your throat thick with confusion and, quite frankly, hurt. The two of you sit before one another, legs crossed and shoulders tense. He looks at you, eyes wide and vulnerable and upset, and he tries to shake it off, you can tell that he does, but he fails each time he attempts it. "Jean is a friend," you tell him calmly. "You know that."

It's not that he'd said it outright. He didn't accuse you much of anything. It's just the way he'd said it; eyes averted, dark with something pained and brimming at the corners, words muttered under his breath. And you were with Jean, of course, he'd told you then, or told himself, really, and that is when time pulled itself still.

You knew – and you do know, that he worries. That he is insecure. You just didn't; you wouldn't think–

His hands glide across his jaw, then sink deep into his hair. "I know," he says. "Of course I know. I’m sorry, I.."

It hurts you. He had implied little, but it was enough. That he could, in his own fear, think of you this way; this shallow, and low, and disloyal. You think, for a brief moment, to feel undignified; to feel angry, above all else – but you can't. You sit there, stock-still in your own vision of him, so small and helpless before you, eyes rimmed with red already, unshed tears filling, and you can feel, with a near physicality to it, your own priorities shifting rapidly.

You grasp at your phone blindly, afraid of taking your eyes off of him, and you reach out towards the man, now pale and stricken as he looks at you. It lands in his lap and lays there quite placidly, and then you both just stare at it, quiet in your own, respective ways.

It has no password – and he knows that. He has never been on it, or through it, really; save for the few times he'd had to check your gallery at your behest, or pick up a call when your hands were busy, or to order food when you were too lazy. He'd never gone deeper, not once, and you wonder now, in a spiral of your own, if he wishes that he had.

You wonder, then, if it will be enough. If it will soothe this bastardly fear out of him; if it will kick this fearful, scarred look within his face out to the curb and gone forever. You watch him now, as his gaze lay still upon your phone, and you wonder at how awfully pale he is. He looks sick. Your stomach twists.

He picks the phone up, and he hands it back to you. His hands shake. His eyes gaze into your own, unaverting and wavering.

"I don't need to," he murmurs, although his voice trembles slightly. The twisting shifts into your guts, spreading like a strange, suffocating vice.

"You don't think it will help?" You ask, and he, himself, looks nearly sick as he shakes his head at you; you watch, with this soft, all-present quiver in your chest, as he gnaws on his lower lip, looking for the words.

"I thought," he begins, gasping ever so gently in a lack of air, "that it would. For just a moment. But you– I don't think you're unfaithful, and I never did. You're not capable of it." He holds your gaze, the blue swimming in the pearlescent shift between his pooling tears. He looks, for this moment, as if he would say something more; as if he would be brave, and say it with his full chest, and take hold of it with a fierceness.

Instead his gaze falls, and his voice is quiet, and your heart thrums painfully at the sight. "It's not what I’m scared of," he tells you simply.

"Tell me then," you plead, your voice low, gentle in ways even you had not expected it to be. You reach for him; in a small gesture, featherlight, afraid of holding him in risk of spooking him like a skittish fawn – you lay your hand on his, and he turns his palm, the skin of his meeting yours in return. "Tell me what you're scared of."

"That you will leave," he admits to you then, unbridled and yet shaking, and quiet, and private. He looks not at you, but at the both of your palms, touching in an earnest. "That you will leave because I am inadequate," he continues, voice tremulant in his throat, "because I can't do enough for you."

Then he does, he does look up at you – silver tears breaking through the rim, rolling quietly down the slope of his cheeks, and you let go of his hand, you pull yourself forward, and his hands dig tight into the back of your shirt as you pull him to you.

"You stupid boy," you tell him in earnest, and he cries, apologies murmured into the skin of your throat. "Enough apologising," you plead with him quietly, hands stroking at his hair. "You did nothing wrong."

"But I–" he begins, voice weak and hiccupped, and you hush him as gentle as you can, holding onto him tightly; fervently.

"You are the best person I know," you interrupt him, taken with this ardent, terrible feeling in your chest; painful and hopeful, seizing your throat all at once. Your body threatens you, with what even you are unsure, but it pulls, and it pushes, and then all the words come out of you unrestrained and impassioned: "You are smart beyond what's good for you, and you're kinder than anyone ever has been to me, and you are good, Armin." You cling to him this way, holding back tears of your own, even as his own cry turns into a comforted whimper. You want to pull at him, you want to look him in the eye, but here, like this, you are afraid of it.

You do it still. You push away and you cradle his face in your hands, and you look at him, eyes red and cheeks tight, and he looks at you with this mercurial, defenceless expression and it has you breathless; it has you wondering, in a fit of delirious, desperate need, if it's too early to know that you will love him for the rest of your life.

"I’m not going anywhere," you tell him then, soft and breathless and so certain, and he must feel it, he must see something in it, for his own gaze softens, and his hands loosen, his desperate, needy hold growing demure and warm. "I’m not going anywhere," you tell him again, trying, somehow, to tell him what you really mean.

"Okay," he replies, chest rising, slowly; then falling. His lips part, words ready for you, and then his chest rises again. "I believe you."

dividers by cafekitsune

tag list: @arlerts-angel @sukunascrustyfinger @levistealeaf @nilaaaas @supersupper @dilfkentolover @arminarlertssword @bel-https @layla240 @katestrophes @er3nscottonpicker @siiyoko @ryoiii @lemontrees-things

reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 armin with a pregnant partner coming hopefully next week!! and dadmin the week after that <3

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mydearlybeloathed · 5 months

Note

I loved your fic where the reader is Sanji's little sister!! I could do more of this but with something more angst? (I'm crazy about angst, forgive me 😭😭😭)

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you would have thought your birthday would keep zeff and sanji from bickering—well, you thought wrong.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sanji x littlesister!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pre-opla, reader is sixteen atm, swearing, reader is at the end of her rope

𝐚/𝐧: you're forgiven anon i also enjoy my fair share of angst 🥰

Turning sixteen had never been so awful for anyone in the entire world. You felt for certain of that.

The water of the sea lapped at your bare feet, dangling off the docks of the Baratie. Silence sat over everything, the moon hung high above you. You kicked at the water, angry at it for some reason, and scoffed at the face of the world.

You swore that if you listened hard enough, you could still hear Sanji and Zeff fighting all the way in the kitchens. The sound of their shouting had driven you out here into the fresh sea air, but it hardly helped the frustration welling up in your gut.

When you heard the footsteps coming up behind you, half of you hoped it was Sanji, coming to apologize and wish you a happy fucking birthday.

You peered over your shoulder to find Patty looming over you, a plate in hand. “Hey, kid.”

“Hi,” you murmured, slouching back over as he knelt down beside you.

You glanced over as he set the plate beside you, grinning a bit at the slice of cake. “How’s the birthday?”

Scoffing, you said, “Shitty. Per usual.”

Patty pursed his lips, sighing out his frustration, cursing the two idiots who’d driven you out here on your birthday. Still, he looked out at the sea, and told you, “He’s looking for you.”

“I’m sure he is.”

“Zeff is too.”

“They took a break from their precious bickering?” You couldn’t help but roll you eyes. “I’m frickin’ honored.”

The chef nudged your shoulder before rising to his feet. “Come on. It’s getting cold.”

You hugged your legs, having no intention of moving. “I’ll freeze.”

“Aww, don’t go all moody teen on me.” Patty half grinned. “I’m barely surviving Sanji.”

Turning your face away from him, you fought down the tears welling up in your eyes. “Go away, Patty.”

The longest moment past, before his footsteps retreated back into the Baratie, and you were left alone. Another birthday down the drain. And all you’d wanted was to spend time with your little family.

જ⁀➴

Patty walked back into the kitchen, brows taut and frown evident. He threw open the doors and glared at the young blond boy who whipped around.

“We’re not rea—”

“Your plan didn’t work,” Patty snapped. “She’s pissed.”

Zeff appeared from around the corner. “So she’s not coming?”

Patty deadpanned, somehow fighting the urge to slap him, if only because Zeff was his boss. “No. She’s not coming.”

Sanji and Zeff turned to each other, each donning an expression of awkward guilt. Sanji sighed. “We messed up.”

“No kiddin’,” Zeff scoffed.

And Patty rolled his eyes, moving to finish setting up this little party. “I’ll finish up.” He glared over at Sanji. “You go fix this.”

“Why me?” Sanji had the nerve to ask.

“She’s your kid sister!” Patty gritted out. “And this was your bright idea! Let’s start fighting even though we know it makes her sad so we’ll have time to throw a surprise! Yeah, great idea. Now she’s wallowin’ on the docks.”

Your brother’s face fell, the image painted for him flashing across his eyes, and he hated it. This was a bad idea, after all. He’d just wanted to surprise you, but you were too quick for that these days. Sanji thought it’d be fine… “Shit.”

He was halfway through throwing off his apron when Zeff dropped everything and beat him to it. He set a heavy hand on Sanji’s shoulder and shoved him back toward the half decorated cake. “I’ll handle it. Just don’t fuck up the cake with yer shaky hands.”

Sanji stumbled into the counter, eyes narrowed, but he didn’t bother arguing. So Zeff trudged out of the kitchen, face sullen, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to console a teenage girl.

He’d figure it out, he hoped. He was a pirate after all, and pirates don't get scared. Then he stepped out into the midnight air and spotted you swinging your legs off the dock.

Pirates don’t get scared. Except, maybe, of their upset daughters.

You heard him before you saw him, tensing up as the sound of Zeff’s peg leg hobbling up behind you. You didn’t say a word and stared out at the crisp black waters, not knowing why he even bothered as he plopped himself down beside you, moving your untouched plate of cake to the space behind you.

“Hey, Pip,” he started, testing the waters.

“‘Sup.” You were irritated, that’s for sure, but not completely shut off. If you wanted him to go, you’d have said so already, or punched him or jumped into the water or something like that. Zeff didn’t pretend to understand youth these days. Typically, your silence was a good sign.

If Zeff knew you at all, and he ought to after all these years, he’d wager you didn’t want to be alone at all.

His peg leg kicked up some water, disturbing the peace. “You cold?”

It was the warmest night the sea had seen in some time, and he expected you to snap back that it was a stupid question. But you just shifted away and muttered, “Nope.”

Maybe you weren’t as open to talking as he’d thought.

“Listen,” he huffed. “I’m sorry. We both are. It’s just, you know how he gets…”

Your sudden glare shut him up, the set in your jaw a tad bit worrying. “I know how he gets, Zeff. But I still wouldn’t throw a pan at him on your birthday.”

Touche.

Zeff grimaced. Maybe he overdid it a bit. “Yeah, I’m sorry ‘bout that.”

“Whatever.” You started to tug at your hair, and Zeff noticed how you’d ditched the ol’ pigtail braids. Now, your hair was pulled back into a single braid a bit on the messy side. There was a white ribbon tying it off.

His stare turned an odd sort of soft, one you didn’t catch often. You glanced up at him quickly, unnerved. “What?”

Zeff didn’t answer right away, choosing to instead take a breath and savor this moment. But you grew impatient, eyes narrow. “What is it, Zeff? Have I got somethin’ on my face?”

Oh, how to explain. How was Zeff to explain just what he thought of you?

You’d surely grown from the little demon who’d bitten him and left a nasty scar on his arm—grown into not so much a demon, but a woman with just the same fire. On odd days he longed for the times when you were small and thought the world of him. When you would come to him for anything and everything.

When you slipped up and called him “Dad.”

That never happened anymore. You were careful now.

You were growing too fast. If he could hide how awful the world was from you, he would, but it was too late. You were giving up on learning the ways of a chef and instead leaning toward waiting tables, learning to pickpocket like a seasoned criminal when you thought no one was watching. And with every passing day Zeff could see that starvation for something more grow brighter and brighter.

Sometimes he wondered if allowing you to work in his restaurant had been a mistake—he had a rule against women working in such a dangerous establishment as his could be, after all—but you were long past the age of listening to a word Zeff had to say. You and Sanji were alike in that manner.

Zeff shook his head. How did he explain how he had thought he’d been so strong until the day you’d come red faced to him, no older than nine, with just a skinned knee. You weren’t crying, not ever letting a tear fall, but you wanted to, he saw it in your eyes.

The former captain of the Cook Pirates had felt so strong until he had no clue how to fix what was wrong.

Zeff hated kids. He hated them, but you and that eggplant of a boy had become exceptions. The pair of you, as frustrating as you could be, had weaseled your way into the old man’s heart. He thinks he’d do just about anything for you, specifically.

How could Zeff begin to explain how much it scared him that his daughter was getting older?

“Zeff?”

“Sorry,” he said. “Got lost a bit.”

You lowered your gaze and shifted, reaching behind you to pick up the cake. There was a singular bite taken out of it. You messed around with the fork. “Patty made this?”

Zeff nodded. “Think so.”

“It’s good. You could do better,” you grinned, setting the plate back down. You’d finish it off later; you never dared to waste food.

“Yeah?” Zeff chuckled. “Probably.”

You kicked at the water again. “I haven’t decided if I forgive you yet.”

“As expected. Just don’t take too long.” After a moment of thought, and an observation at how you returned to your surly demeanor, he made a decision. “We’ve got somewhere to be.” Zeff turned away the moment you whipped your head around to give him that curious look of yours.

“What do you mean?” you asked, skeptical.

“Can’t say. It’s a surprise.” He rolled his eyes. “Sanji’s been insistent on a surprise for days. You’re too nosey to keep secrets from, so we needed to get you out of the kitchen…”

He waited for the realization to sink in, and then you were punching his arm with a gasp. “No way! No way you were faking! You’re the worst!” You couldn’t decide between being angry or amused, letting out a laughing scoff at their complete idiocy. “I was about to cry, you bastards!”

Zeff couldn’t help it. He laughed—no, cackled whilst he gently blocked your tiny fist. “Language, Pipsqueak.”

You raised your middle finger and fought hard to hide your growing smile. “I don’t believe you. You’re just covering for yourselves. That fight was real.”

“Or we’re just that skilled at actin’,” he countered. He did admit that after a minute the argument was more real than not. “It was his idea.”

“Zeff.”

“We meant well.” He rerouted his defense. “He’s been going on and on ‘bout this surprise—”

“That you’ve now spoiled.”

“I had to! I wasn’t gonna deal with his moping when you never showed.” You started to protest, making him scoff. “You weren’t gonna show. You’re stubborn.”

You huffed, lunging over to scoop up the sea and splash it in Zeff’s face. The old man sputtered before he reached out a hand and pushed you into the water with barely a shove. You squealed and sank under the water, coming up gasping as thinly veiled hilarity broke past your anger.

Flapping around in the water, you gaped up at Zeff as he wheezed, barely able to get enough air through his laughter. Your own laugh bubbled out of you. “What the fuck, Zeff?”

“You–you started it!” He was still catching his breath, eyes crinkled. “Didn’t mean to push you in.”

Like you believed him. Rolling your eyes, you held out a hand and awaited your rescue. The old man stood to his mismatched feet and gripped your wrist, hoisting you up. You were airborne for at least three seconds with the momentum of his pull, giggling as your feet touched the dock again.

“I should tell Sanji you ratted him out,” you mused as the night air hit you, shivers running up and down your spine.

“You won’t,” he said, though there was a slight hope in his eyes that you really were bluffing. You were, of course. As much as you fought with Sanji, you would never dare to ruin his fun—and if planning a surprise for you was fun for him, so be it.

“I won’t,” you agreed. “But I should.”

You started back into the Baratie, crossing your arms tightly to condense what was left of your body heat. Zeff fell into step beside you, his chef’s coat draped over your shoulders not a second later. Stepping inside wasn’t an escape from the cold; if anything, the chill grew worse.

As much as you hated being cold… you were curious as to what Sanji had cooked up.

So you braved the frigid walk through the empty dining room, weaving in and out of tables and chairs, and rushed ahead of Zeff to enter the kitchen first. You gave the doors a shove and came face to face with a platoon of balloons bobbing around the ceiling.

Little purple flowers poked out of various crystal glasses. A sweet smell filled the room. You froze in the doorway, taking it all in, and noticed Sanji at the counter, finishing off the icing on a small cake. He glanced up and blew his hair out of his face, a smile splitting onto his face when he saw you.

“Pip!” His eyes ran you up and down, confusion clouding his blue eyed gaze. “What happened to you?”

You let out a huff and slipped your arms into the too big coat. “Went for a swim.”

Zeff chuckled suspiciously and swept toward the cake, inspecting it briefly. “Just like I said. The icing’s uneven.”

Sanji threw down the icing. “It is—”

“Stop!” you shouted. “I swear.”

That shut them up, each of them rolling their eyes. Children, you thought. Taking another look around, a little smile grew on your face. “Is it someone’s birthday?”

For a moment, Sanji’s confidence faltered, as if he was really questioning what day it was, before he caught your sly grin and relaxed. “Only yours, so I really don’t know why I bothered with all this.”

“Ouch,” you laughed. The kitchen was empty save for you, Zeff, and Sanji. It reminded you of quiet nights similar to this one, back when the Baratie was in its early years. Back when Zeff and Sanji didn’t fight as much as they did now.

In the gentle quiet to follow, you did admit: growing older wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

You blinked and Zeff had lit a candle and poked it into the top of the cake, causing Sanji to grumble at how he’d messed up the swirl design he’d crafted. Zeff ignored him and bumped your shoulder. “Too old to make a wish?”

“As if.” You were almost offended he’d asked, leaning forward to blow out the candles, squeezing closed your eyes and uttering a wish in your head. When you were done, Sanji gave you a questioning look.

“So? What was it?”

Every year he asked, and every year you shook your head. “Can’t say. It’ll break the magic.”

The night grew old, as night always does, and it aged with laughter and thrown icing and sleepy eyes, before it died to make way for the sun. And by then, you and Sanji were passed out on piles of flour sacks, side by side and snoring in tune.

The Baratie was to open in five hours. In one hour, the chefs would file in to prepare for the breakfast run. For now, though, there was peace as Zeff pulled up a stool to the countertop and observed the pair with increasing, sickening fondness.

The plan had never been to raise two of the possibly most difficult children on the seas… but now that you weren’t children anymore, there was a significant amount of pride welling up in Zeff’s chest.

He knew neither of you were destined to remain at the Baratie all your lives. To keep you there was to imprison you. Someday, you and Sanji would leave this place, and Zeff could only hope it wouldn’t be tomorrow as each day came to a close.

And someday, a year down the road, his hope would be in vain as the next morning your annual birthday wish was granted in the form of a grand ship with the masthead of a goat—the ship that would sail you and Sanji away.

But that was a year away, and no one knew of what fate had in store. You only knew that maybe turning sixteen wasn’t so bad.

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k-hotchoisan · 7 months

Note

Hi loving you and your writing 💗but right now I am craving for a wooyoung fic based on chase Atlantic "slow down" love u 😘

Coming right up Angel 🩷 and thank you for compliments and the request! I’ve been so bias wrecked by him I wished it’s funny 🫠

Hope you didn’t mind that I sort of cut off the drug usage present in the song because I’m not comfortable with it (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Slow down? Yeah fucking right.

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, backshots, unprotected sex, !mentioned alcohol use (drink responsibly please), cream pies, slight manhandling(?), light bondage, established relationship, slow to fast (LMAO)

Word count: 2K

When Wooyoung’s a little more tipsy than usual, he dances between the scale of going slow or about to rearrange your fucking guts, and it’s a fucking surprise every single time it happens. Not that you were complaining of course. No matter what he does, it just drives you up the wall, just constantly begging for more.

He’s had a few drinks tonight, destressing himself for the weekend after a long week of work. You walk over to him, and take the glass from him, pouting. “You shouldn’t drink so much, Woo”, you scold. Wooyoung doesn’t get mad—why would he get mad if it was you? He smiles at you as his arms snake around your waist as he leans into you, spoiling you with kisses on your clothed waist. You settle the cup on the table, away from his reach. His flushed cheeks already an indication that he’s already getting pretty tipsy. He breathes in his body wash that you use when you stay over, and he loves how it smells on you.

“Hi darling”, he hums as his hands trail past under the dress shirt you’re wearing, tickling your thighs, playing against the band of your panties, tempted to just pull it down, his eye contact never breaking with yours. It sends electricity up your spine. “Could I have you instead?” He asks.

You’re wondering if you should tease him a little and deny him of that request just for the sake of your amusement. Your fingers caress his chin and Wooyoung feels himself shiver in anticipation even though you know he’s going to be the one flipping the tables.

You push his hands off you, which takes Wooyoung back by surprise, and cease any form of physical contact with him, before pushing him back against the sofa, then taking the glass of alcohol to the sink. Wooyoung is left confused and half hard on the couch.

You know he’ll come crawling soon enough, because that’s how you’d always lure him in anyway, especially when he’s in such a state. You take your time to walk into your shared bedroom with him and as expected, he catches up so fucking quick, and it’s always by surprise when his pace catches up with yours. He grabs you by your shoulders in such quick motion, as he kicks the door shut, and you squeal as you fall onto the cold sheets. It tickles your nipples as the cold envelopes you.

Before you could muster the energy to get up and face him, Wooyoung’s weight presses against yours from above, and fuck, his erection is just pressing against your legs.

“Darling, why would you leave me hanging like that? Got my feelings hurt”, he whispers too calmly, sending shivers down your spine.

You turn slightly, giving him a mischievous look. “How would I know if you’re sober enough to consent?”

Wooyoung scoffs. “You know I’m always sober enough to fuck you dumb. I would never drink more than I can take.”

You could barely muster a reply as his hands hike up your thighs and hooks onto the band of your underwear, and he tugs down oh so painfully slow. Once the garment is removed, he pulls it taut, looking at the pretty wet spot you made on the fabric, and he smiles, satisfied as you fight every cell in your body not to turn shy.

“Besides, why the fuck would I want to forget every time we make love? That would be such a waste, wouldn’t it?” Wooyoung continues, his finger tracing the curve of your spine through the thin fabric. You don’t dare move a muscle, because you know he’d could just do about anything to you, and that now the real thing truly begins. He slowly pulls the strap of your dress all the way down to your ankles, and tosses it onto the ground, his gaze tracing every single dip and peak of your body as you take shallow breaths.

Wooyoung has a piece of long fabric that he probably picked up along the way chasing after you, and he props your ass up, not forgetting to give it a light spank, causing you to cry out.

“I won’t let this ass go to waste, baby. I promise.” Wooyoung hums as he soaks his fingers with his spit before giving your clit some attention. Your face buried in the sheets, loving how sensitive it feels as the arousal travels up your body. You feel Wooyoung pull your hands behind your back and the fabric going through it’s rounds on your wrists.

He leans in from behind, kissing the nape of your neck, before he says, “tell me if it hurts okay?” You nod, feeling your cunt already dripping from the anticipation.

He loops the rest of the fabric to your wrist to restrain them—just how he likes it. He stands back, admiring your ass, as well as the way your fluids are leaking out from your hole—and he hasn’t even started yet.

“Fuck. You’re one pretty little slut”, he inhales, taking the sight of you in like that, and that only makes your cunt flutter at the air. Wooyoung smirks before diving right in, licking a stripe, making sure his tongue flicks against your clit, drinking in your juices as well as your moans. His fingers are still slicked up, and he doesn’t waste time to spit into your cunt before pushing in said two fingers.

Your eyes roll back in bliss. Fuck, it feels so good. No matter how many time the both of you did this, it always feels like a whole new experience, something you ended up craving so much because Wooyoung does it so fucking well. The combination of the pads of his fingertips press against your bundle of nerves consistently as his tongue sending pleasure to your clit pulls a knot in your cunt as your cried fills up the room.

Wooyoung laps you up as if he hasn’t tasted you before, taking note of how your walls are clenching against his fingers. “Cumming soon babe?” He asks, and you barely could answer him, only a soft “yes” leaving your lips. He finger fucks you even more, your g-spot sensitivity hiking up exponentially and your cries growing louder.

“Wooyoung, I’m close. So fucking good. I’m gonna cum-“ and his tongue on your clit increases in speed. The knot in your stomach snaps as your orgasm washes over you so intensely, your hole pulsing against Wooyoung’s fingers, some of your arousal leaking out as you cream on his fingers. Wooyoung doesn’t relent—he sucks on your clit until you squeal from the overstimulation as your high dies down. He gives your cunt a wet kiss before wiping his stained fingers on his slacks before pulling them down.

You could barely catch your breath before you feel his cock sticking between your folds. He doesn’t enter just yet, but he’s enjoying how cunt is so fucking wet that he’s slipping his cock past your throbbing cunt. The alcohol is slightly fucking him up as it slowly bleeds into him. He sighs as he pushes inch by inch into you, and his cock only grows harder when he hears you cry out in pleasure as he goes in deeper.

“So fucking tight”, he groans as he bottoms out in you, and more sobs come out from you. He lets his cock stay in you for a couple of seconds or so to let you adjust, before pulling back—and soaking in your groans—and then pounding right back into you.

Your moans and cries are on top of the wet sounds of skin slapping each other echo in the room. Wooyoung grips the fabric restraints as he fucks into you, pulling you closer to him so his cock reaches in deeper. He groans as you clench around him. You’re crying out Wooyoung’s name as if your life depends on it, creaming so much on his cock, as drool seeps past the sides of your lips. Your eyes were so blown out from the pleasure that nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

“Damn, you’re so fucking loud, baby”, Wooyoung grunts as he gently pushes your face into the pillow, muffling your voice. He releases you quickly, and opts to land his hand on your ass, the sound bouncing around the walls. Your body shakes in surprise and your cries get cut short, replaced with a squeal as your hole squeezes against Wooyoung’s dick, causing him to groan again.

He leans back to look at the mess—the way he’s cock is just slipping into your hole as you continue to cream and pulse on it, the squelching sounds only heightening the arousal as he uses his thumb to tug against your hole, admiring the way you take his cock so fucking perfectly. Fuck. He could really do this all day.

Your mind was really getting hazy as the knot tightens in your stomach. Your body now has a mind of its own as your hips push back against Wooyoung, feeling yourself almost bounce on his dick at this point frantically.

“Slow down, princess”, Wooyoung says, as he strokes your sides, and you deduce that this round of alcohol was making him more relaxed than aggressive this round. You wonder how you should push him to start rearranging your guts.

Through half lidded eyes and uneven pants, you manage to taunt, “I’m pretty fucking sure you can do better than that, babe.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. The alcohol is definitely hazing his senses, so he definitely takes it at face value. Sometimes it’s too fucking easy to get him wrapped around your finger. Not to mention, since he’s half drunk already, the fabric he tied around you was getting loose, and he doesn’t notice your hands slowly pulling the ones around your wrist taut to loosen it.

“You could go harder if you wanted to. Why hold back? You know how much you and I like it fucking rough right?”

Something snaps in Wooyoung, and his hands grab your hips and pulls you in. Then one hand on the restraints, and the other pushing your head into the pillow, as he fucks you into the mattress. Star burst in your eyelids as you could barely keep up with his pace of fucking. Your cunt is gonna be so abused and sore by the end of this but fuck, it was always worth it.

“Say that again, princess”, he hisses as his cock drags along your cunt, sending sparks of pleasure all over your body. You don’t bother, because your mind was turning into straight up mush thanks to his fat cock.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it”, you barely cry out, your thighs shaking as your second orgasm —which you barely could even process—hits you hard. Wooyoung’s moans mount an octave as he feels his cock being squeezed so perfectly around you.

“Oh my fucking god. I’m cumming” his voice coming out a lot less deeper, as his load is emptied into your cunt in erratic spurts, and his grip on your ass doesn’t lighten until his balls are emptied. He releases you when he’s feels that he’s fucked out, rubbing your lower back in smooth circles.

Your wrists release from the restraints as it falls onto the bed, and you heave against the now, warm, sheets. Wooyoung decides to be playful and falls onto you, knocking out the breath out of you. He rains kisses down your temples, cheeks and on your neck before quickly getting up to turn you to lie on your back. He then heads to the closet to grab a towel to clean you up despite the exhaustion biting him.

He lies beside you, and pulls you into a deep kiss, desperate to taste every part of your before sleep lulls him down. As he pulls back, he flicks your head delicately.

“Babe, I told you to fucking slow down, didn’t I?”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #smut #ateez fic #Wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #Wooyoung x reader #ateez wooyoung

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