#Now it's that but in reverse! Working my patience back up a little at a time haha ♪
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fall right into me
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.
word count: 13.6k
warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!
a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)
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Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.
He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, Steve.”
“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”
You’re not quite sure where to start.
Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.
The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.
You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.
You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t.
The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”
You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.
It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?
Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.
Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.
You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”
If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.
“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.
Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.
He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.
“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”
“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”
“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”
There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.
You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.
“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”
“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”
“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”
“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”
You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.
“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”
“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”
There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.
It’s known, felt. Like a fact.
“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”
“Okay.”
“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”
“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”
Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.
But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.
“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”
“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”
“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.
-
True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.
You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.
His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”
The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”
Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”
We’ll, he says. A team.
You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.
“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.
Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”
He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.
He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”
You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”
“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”
You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.
You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.
Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.
Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.
Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.
Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.
You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.
The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.
Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.
Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.
Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.
“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.
When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.
He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.
“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.
Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.
Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.
It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.
Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.
“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.
“But the frame-”
“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”
“Steve-”
“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”
His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.
“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”
“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”
You laugh wetly into his shirt.
“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”
A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”
-
Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.
Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’
Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.
You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.
By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.
Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.
He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.
You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.
Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”
“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.
Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.
The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.
It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.
Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”
“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”
“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”
“Hey!”
“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”
You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.
It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.
You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”
“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”
“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.
Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”
There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.
“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”
He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.
You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.
You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.
When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.
It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.
-
You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.
He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.
It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.
This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.
After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.
Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.
You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.
Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.
If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.
He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.
You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.
That’s it.
Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.
He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.
Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.
Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.
She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.
“What?” Steve asks.
“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.
She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.
When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.
He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.
Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.
He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”
Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”
“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”
“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”
“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”
“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”
“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”
Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.
“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”
-
That night, your routine was pretty much the same.
Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.
Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.
Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.
After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.
You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.
Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.
He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.
You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.
After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.
Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.
Sometimes it feels like it is.
Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.
“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.
“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”
Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.
“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.
“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”
“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”
“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”
“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.
Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”
“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”
“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”
You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.
When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.
It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.
That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.
He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.
He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.
Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.
Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.
“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”
“You fell asleep.”
“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.
Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.
You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.
Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”
He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.
Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.
You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.
You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.
-
On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.
“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.
You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”
“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”
You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.
You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”
“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”
“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”
“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”
“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”
“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”
So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.
He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.
You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.
“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.
He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.
He knows you. He cares enough to know you.
“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.
At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’
After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”
“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”
“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.
They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.
“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”
“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”
“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”
“He’s not my-”
“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.
Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?
Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.
The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.
You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?
“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.
You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.
Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.
It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.
You actually like it.
“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.
In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.
Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.
Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.
He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.
As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.
“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”
You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”
You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”
“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”
“We’re not stealing.”
“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”
You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.
Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.
He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.
“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.
“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”
“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”
Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.
You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.
He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.
“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”
His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”
You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.
It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.
-
You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)
But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.
Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.
Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.
So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.
You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.
Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.
By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.
“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.
Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”
You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.
Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.
You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.
The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.
You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”
He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”
“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”
“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”
“So you don’t want the waffles then?”
“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”
“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.
Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”
Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.
And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.
Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.
You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.
Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.
You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.
What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.
You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.
Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.
You’ll miss it, you think.
Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.
He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.
Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”
You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”
He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”
“That’s what I thought.”
When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.
A similar one stretches across your own lips.
-
Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.
And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.
The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.
He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.
Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.
He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.
Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.
When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.
Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)
He hopes it’ll be worth it.
Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.
Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.
He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.
Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.
His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.
He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”
“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”
“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.
Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.
Steve’s never nervous around you.
“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”
“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”
You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.
What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.
It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.
When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.
Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.
Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.
“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”
“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.
You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.
This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.
When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.
“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”
“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”
Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.
Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.
Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.
He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.
“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”
“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”
“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”
“I guess I will.”
You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.
His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.
-
You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.
You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.
You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.
Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.
Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.
“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”
You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.
“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”
“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”
You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”
He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”
“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”
He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”
“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”
He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.
Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.
“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”
“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”
“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.
“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”
Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.
He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.
So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”
You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”
“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”
You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”
Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”
Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.
You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.
He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.
His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.
“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.
Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”
And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.
-
You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.
Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.
Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.
Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.
Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.
As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.
His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.
In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.
It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.
“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.
“Mhm,” he hums.
Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.
“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”
You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.
“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”
“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.
“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”
“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.
“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”
Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.
He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.
It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.
You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.
Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.
“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.
You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”
Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.
You don’t.
Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.
It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.
You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.
Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.
Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.
You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.
It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.
You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.
Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.
You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.
What the fuck just happened?
-
It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.
Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.
You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?
You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.
You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.
Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.
He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.
It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.
Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.
Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?
Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.
You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.
He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.
So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.
Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”
“No, shut up. I need your help.”
“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”
“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.
“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”
Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.
“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.
Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”
Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”
Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”
Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”
“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.
He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.
“What do you mean?”
“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”
Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.
You are worth the risk to him.
“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”
“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”
Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”
-
With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.
You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.
You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.
The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.
How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.
The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.
Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.
You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.
For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.
So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.
Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.
You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.
You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”
You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.
“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”
You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”
“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”
You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.
Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.
“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”
“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”
You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”
“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”
“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.
Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”
“What about when my apartment is ready?”
He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”
You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.
You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.
It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”
“You won’t. Not ever.”
You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.
The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.
“So what happens now?” You ask.
“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”
“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”
He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”
Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”
“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”
He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.
𝜗𝜚
thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you thing!! it helps more than you know <3
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington blurbs#steve harrington reader insert#steve harrington request#steve harrington requests#steve harrington x y/n fluff#steve harrington x fem!reader#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#steve stranger things#stranger things steve#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#steve x reader#steve harrington friends to lovers#stranger things imagine
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Can i request something bit angsty? 🥺 its totally fine if you dont wanna write it tho!
I was thinking, wolfstar x reader got into an argument and reader started to occlude and the boys got scared they might be out of line bcs she only occlude when shes really hurting?
this is my SHIT - love me some hurt/comfort. thanks for requesting, lovie 🫶
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader
CW: hurt/comfort, arguing, mention of past family discourse, toxic family memories
“I’m sorry. You did what?” Sirius beseeched, walking into the living room from the kitchen and interrupting the points (arguments) you and Remus were each in the process of making. You gave him an unimpressed look, knowing he wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself, he just couldn’t believe what he had heard.
“She gave Mary-Ella over a grand.” Remus muttered bitterly.
“I did not give Mary-Ella money, I loaned her money.” You were quick to correct.
Sirius just scoffed. “Sure you did, dollface.” He sneered, making his usual pet-name burn to the touch. “You are never going to see that money again.”
“What were you thinking?” Remus implored.
“I was thinking that my friend was in a bind and needed help. I hardly think that’s a crime.”
“You didn’t just loan a little bit of money, though. You loaned a lot of money to a friend who is not reliable in the slightest.” Remus asserted.
“We have been working so hard trying to save up to move. To move closer to Diagon Alley so that Remus can be closer to work, and we can finally get out of my uncles flat.” Sirius added.
“I know we’ve been working hard, Sirius. I know this because I too have been working hard. But I’m not going to watch my friend struggle when there’s something I could do to help!”
“This choice impacted all of us. You had no right to make this decision on your own.”
It was your turn to scoff as you turned to glare at Remus incredulously. You had been trying to stay patient, knowing that this close to the moon, Remus was feeling extra sensitive. But him ganging-up on you with Sirius quickly found what little patience you had running thin. “I 'had no right' to make a decision about money that I made on my own?”
“You have no ground to stand on, buttercup. You’re now out more than a grand because of this choice; we’re all out more than a grand because of your choice.” Sirius growled, tone full of derision.
“If the roles were reversed, Mary-Ella would help me out!” You tried to reason, only for Remus to bark a laugh.
“That doesn’t even matter, dove. Because you’d never be in her position and likewise, she’d never be in yours. She’s irresponsible, unreliable, and a mooch.”
You tried to ignore the burning sensation in your sinuses as you spoke to the back of Remus’ head; he apparently had grown so disgusted with you that he couldn���t even look at you anymore.
“I don’t like you talking about my friends like that. I don’t understand why we’re making such a big deal about this, I jus-” but you were cut off as Remus stood abruptly and turned on you.
“We’re making this a big deal because it is a big deal!” he bellowed. “You leave this apartment in the morning and it’s like Sirius and I don’t exist anymore. You conduct yourself like some single woman with no responsibility to anyone else but herself.”
“You’re being selfish. You can’t possibly expect to drop a bomb on us like this and, what, expect us to just reply with ‘yes dear’? You fucked up, Y/N.” Sirius added, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cold silver eyes glared daggers that permeated your entire being. Remus carried on, unperturbed by the effects this conversation was having on you.
You felt like you were seventeen again, like you were eleven, nine, six. You felt like a babe whose hand had been slapped for reasons beyond your comprehension.
Do you ever stop and think about the consequences, Y/N?
You were sitting at the dining room table as your father lashed you with his words, each sentence punctuated with the slamming of his fists on the table. You were standing on the platform having just reunited with your parents after the school year as your mother’s claws dug into your arms, warning you that punishment was to come later if you didn’t smarten up. You were cowering in the backyard as your father screamed at you in front of the entire neighbourhood – a free show for all to enjoy.
You think crying will earn you any sympathy here? You’re a manipulative little witch if you think that will work on me.
Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about.
You felt naked – like your figurative clothes had been violently ripped from your body – and there you stood, stripped bare for all to leer at. Standing before two people...who were meant to love you unconditionally...as they laced their words with venom and spat vitriol at you.
You couldn’t even hear the point Remus was trying to make anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.
He hated you. You were hated. You were a disappointment, a burden, unwanted.
But you couldn’t cry – could never cry. You’d just be manipulating them. You were deceitful. Emotions were deceitful. The way you felt was wrong. And they were right.
Always right.
So, you did what you always did; you made it quiet.
You began layering rows of stones around your being. Protection. Space. Distance. Safety.
They couldn’t hurt you from all the way in here, not from the other side of your wall. You’d be safe here. Here in the quiet.
It was safe in the quiet.
Sirius felt disgraceful at how long it took him to notice the signs of you pulling away from the conversation. Away from them. Away from him.
Remus – always more sensitive than the two of you when it came to the likes of money, combined with feeling extra flustered with the upcoming full moon – had no reason to expect nor recognize signs of occlusion.
Suddenly, Sirius was fourteen again. Walburga was standing over him with her wand aimed at his chest, but all he could see was Regulus. He had prayed at the time that his brother could hear him begging in his mind:
Turn it off, Reg. Just turn it off. It can’t hurt you if you turn it off.
Sirius himself sat in an almost constant state of occlusion during his fifth year, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the beginning of the end of his life as the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (or the end of his life in general) was near.
Growing up wasn’t a whole lot easier for you, it seemed. And he knew that when things got to be too much, you did what you needed to do to protect yourself.
He suddenly hated himself. You weren’t supposed to need to protect yourself from him and Remus. It was their job to protect you; just like you always protected them.
How you protected Remus from wasting away on the days leading up to and recovering from the full moon. You never let him go hungry or thirsty, you always made sure the space was clean and tidy, and you never let him fall into his typical pre- and post-moon self-loathing.
And you protected Sirius from himself; from saying things that he wouldn’t be able to take back, from being the worst version of himself, from losing you and Remus completely.
He didn’t deserve you.
You didn’t deserve this.
For fuck’s sake all you had been doing was being kind.
Being a good friend, someone that others could rely on, protecting people who meant so much to you.
All you were doing was being your kind, courteous, protective, generous self that Remus and Sirius had fallen in love with from the very start.
“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, causing the lycanthrope to pause in his tangent. You didn’t even flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere as Remus looked at Sirius bewilderedly.
“We’ve lost her.” Sirius murmured quietly, causing Remus to spin to observe you.
“Well...” Remus began, still struggling to shake off his anger and the need to argue. “But I-”
“It’s enough, Remus.” Sirius hissed quietly, staring at Remus with a look he hoped conveyed no nonsense.
He apparently succeeded as Remus let out whatever breath he’d been holding as he turned again to face you.
“Dove, I’m sorry.” Remus whispered as he tried to move towards you, but you instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between you; your arms wrapped around your middle protectively as if that was all that was holding you together.
Sirius’ heart felt like it split in two – and based off of the look on Remus’ face, he wasn’t fairing any better.
“Y/N?” Sirius tried. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you hummed in quasi-acknowledgement.
“Can you look at me?” He tried quietly, but you shook your head no.
Remus made a pained sound as he tried to move towards you again, ducking his head down in an attempt to make eye contact with you. You didn’t back away from him this time, but your arms tightened in their hold around your middle.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m...I was out of line.”
“Come back?” Sirius pleaded. “Please.”
You took a deep breath and turned your face towards your boyfriends, but Sirius could tell your eyes were still foggy – you were still hiding.
“We won’t talk about it anymore. That conversation is done.” Sirius said.
“But-” you started, voice grating from the tightness in your throat, but he cut you off.
“The conversation is done. You did what you thought was right, you were being your kind lovely self, helping your friend when they needed you. We shouldn’t have yelled at you, sweets. I’m sorry.”
Remus made another pained sound and moved closer to you again.
“Dovey, I’m so sorry. Please, can I- would you like a hug?”
Sirius watched as you looked at Remus, seeming to weigh your options before you nodded once at him. Remus needn’t any more invitation and quickly (though gently) made for you, enveloping you in his arms.
The three of you stayed like that – Remus with his arms around you, you with your arms around yourself and your face pushed into his chest, and Sirius standing helplessly at the side – before Sirius started to notice some tension leaving your shoulders.
“Why’d you go?” He asked you quietly, gently placing a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades and rubbing in a way he hoped was soothing.
“I didn’t want to cry.” You admitted into Remus’ chest, neither boy missing how tight your voice seemed to be, even as your voice barely raised above a whisper.
“Oh, dolly. Just cry. Cry, okay? Make us feel like tossers, but don’t leave.” Sirius said.
“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” You muttered wetly, finally turning so Sirius could see your red and wet face.
“But we deserved it. Oh, my love.” Remus cooed as he all but picked you up and locked your legs around his hips, forcing you to move your grip from around yourself to around him.
“I’m not s’posed to make you cry. I’m s’posed to make you smile.” He muttered pitifully, pressing his lips into your hair.
“And cum.” Sirius spoke in the same pitiful tone, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.
You laughed wetly and the last of your occlusion appeared to slip away which was what Sirius had been aiming for. It didn’t make him feel all that much better though.
“Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry, Pads is right. You were just being your lovely self, and I’m a bastard.”
Sirius watched as your brows furrowed. “You’re not a bastard.”
“No,” Sirius agreed readily, “he was just being a bastard. Both of us were. Do you think you can forgive us?”
You nodded quickly but Remus tsked in response.
“Don’t let us off so easily, dovey. Make us pay for it. What do you need? Do you need a foot rub? You want cake? Ice cream? What about a kitten? You’ve always wanted a kitten.”
You had been shaking your head at everything Remus said until the last one, your curiosity obviously piqued.
Fuckin’ hells, Sirius thought, if she gets a kitten everytime one of us acts like an arse, we’re going to be overrun with cats by next month.
#poly!wolfstar#poly!wolfstar x reader#poly!wolfstar x you#wolfstar x you#wolfstar x reader#wolfstar#sirius black#remus lupin#remus x sirius#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#self insert#reader insert#ask elle#marauders fanfiction#hurt/comfort#ellecdc fics
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ateez and their favorite sex positions + explained
yunho, jongho: reverse cowgirl - ok hear me out, imagine yunho guiding the movements of your ass with his huge hand as you bounce on his dick while you look back over your shoulders to watch his expressions. he thinks its so hot to watch you performing on top of him that you almost can see the sparkles on his eyes. he usually let you ride him like this when he knows you had a long ass day at work or college or both and you need to take the stress out of you, so he offers his dick for you to do whatever you want because he just wanna make you feel good. on the other side… jongho also LOVES this position since he can watch your curves. his favorite body part on you is your thighs and the tattoos on it so every time he has the chance to see them bouncing on his cock he’ll take it. he’ll just relax his head on his hands and bite his lips while enjoying his girl. and you also love his thick thighs so you two are even. phew… he’s so fucking hot.
yeosang, mingi: you on top - yeosang loves leaving love bites on your neck and squeezing your waist while you ride him. out of all the girls he has dated in his life you’re definitely the only one who knows how to ride him RIGHT. because let’s be honest, my man’s got a big dick and you can take 100% of him and that’s one of the numerous reasons he fell in love with you at the first place. you kinda got the sauce. he also loves to feel your sweet vanilla cherry scent, he thinks is very sexy, so be careful because sometimes he can get drunk of you! he just place his face in the crook of your neck as you ride him and closes his eyes and stays there guiding your hips, like yunho, but in this case by the waist. okay and mingi… well, mingi is something else. he completely loves sucking on your nipples when you’re on top of him, hands on your ass spanking every now and then to remind you he’s the only one in the world who can bottom you out like that. he kinda asserts some dominance without even noticing and you can’t help it but call out his name every time you go up and down his dick. also, has a huge size kink.
san: BACKSHOTS - 6 words. on the way by jhené aiko. this song is SO choi san coded, every time i hear that “booty clapping from the backshots while we watch porn on the laptop” verse san’s the first person that comes to my mind. we all know he loves a big thick curvy ass that he can spank whenever he pleases. also “inhale the smoke while you stroke inside it” makes me literally malfunction since my biggest guilty pleasure is san getting high and passing the blunt to you while he breaks your back. if i could dedicate one song to one man it would be on the way to san because oh my god i could spend hours talking about this topic but imma stop before i pass out.
seonghwa: face off - we all know seonghwa’s the romantic type… but also the freak type. he likes it when you two are seated at the end of the bed or on the couch or even on the kitchen chair and have you like this, on top of him, facing him. as i said, when you’re fucking in the kitchen, for example, he usually put his elbow on the table behind him and expect you to ride his dick but sometimes it can get a little bit hard for you to keep a steady pace in this position so he loses his patience and quickly switch positions. you’re now laying on the kitchen counter. we also know he’s a worshipper, so he’ll make you feel so loved in his arms even tho he’s fucking the soul out of you. well, love and affection is something you’ll always receive when it comes to having a relationship with seonghwa whether is fwb, a date, a one night stand or a marriage… but he’ll also fuck you HARD and when i say hard i MEAN IT because we’re talking about a fucking aries here and as an aries myself i know exactly what goes on on his mind when it comes to sex.
hongjoong: missionary - still talking about zodiac signs, for those who don’t know, hongjoong’s a scorpio and girl let me tell you about scorpios… ma’am they are another type of freak, like, they literally invented freak, to me they are sex gods. and even tho this is a common sex position doesn’t mean hongjoong will make it ordinary. he’s very possessive so he wants to make sure that you know you’re HIS and his only and he does that by pinning both of your wrists with one hand while he chokes your neck with the other. sex with him is always pleasurable, he’ll satisfy you 200% of the time, overwhelm you even. but you can’t never get enough of him. also, he likes to hear it when you say that your pussy is his for him to please and your body is his for him to touch and that you belong to him. his moto is saying that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you because he couldn’t stand the thought of somebody else touching your body. i love hongjoong so much.
wooyoung: spoon - OK… i see wooyoung fucking you in a spoon position and it can be any type, with your leg up, down, kissing your neck, grabbing your breasts, chocking you, biting your lobe teasing you, but as long as it is in a spoon position. ooooh he loves the way you bite your bottom lip and do that crying expression with your eyebrows when you tell him to slow down and he just gives you a sassy smirk and says nothing but starts fucking you ROUGHER. you can barely open your eyes to look at his hungry eyes looking back at you because it’s rolling with pleasure. all you can do is whine and not even when he cums he’ll stop, he likes overstimulating you AND him.
#ateez smut#ateez scenarios#ateez x reader#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop smut#ateez drabbles#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#ateez san#ateez yunho#ateez mingi#ateez jongho#ateez seonghwa#ateez yeosang#ateez hongjoong#ateez wooyoung#kpop scenarios
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My Favorite Pet
Fuck Me (3)
BDSM preformer!fem!Reader x subby!Wanda Maximoff
Summary: Friday has rolled around and you aren't feeling it tonight. Can Wanda help you through it?
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, BDSM relationship, exhibitionism, voyeurism, rope play, mention of strap, aftercare is fluff, Domspace drop, role reversal, mention of spanking, mentions of edging
Word count: 2K
A/N: Had a lot happen today so I'm glad that in my down moments I was able to work on this for you guys. I've also been loving this dynamic more than I thought I would. I have a cheeky one-shot planned and also another chapter~
The club was in full swing by the time you got there on Friday strolling in at six. Natasha was none too pleased as she pulled you into her office, pushing you against the wall. A moan escaping your lips as her hand wrapped around your neck like a necklace, making you gasp out.
“You've really been testing my patience these past two weeks and I am sick of it.” Natasha seethed at you, your eyes widening knowing you had pushed too far.
“I-I'm sorry Tasha!” You pleaded with the older redhead. “Please I can't be in subspace right now.” her eyes narrowed on you. As much as she wanted to bend you over her desk and punish you she needed you to be functional for tonight.
Her grip loosened on you. Turning away from you as she went back to her desk. “If you have one more slip up you'll be over my desk before you even realize you've fucked up.” Her voice had a bite to it that sent a shiver through you.
“Yes, of course Tasha. I'll be on my best behavior.” You tell her before slipping out of her office and into your own dressing room.
Wanda was there already in a cute little set she had picked out in your absence. You smiled at her choice as she beamed up at you.
The two of you had spent a few days apart after your last performance and aftercare session. You loved having her around truly you did, but you weren't ready to have her around 24/7. It had been a long time since you were in a relationship and though you two worked together in the way that you do, you wanted to ease into the rest of the relationship. The non-BDSM parts.
You made your way over, cupping her cheek as she leaned into your touch. “That's a beautiful outfit you've picked out tonight baby girl. I think I have something to match it.” You coo at her leaving a light kiss on her lips before going through your wardrobe and finding a suitable outfit to match. “You're going to be a good girl for me tonight, right?” You knew she would it was more to help put you in the headspace you needed to be in.
“Yes Mommy!” She replied happily, bounding over to you with her collar in hands, kneeling down in front of you as she held it up towards you. She really was perfect. You couldn't ask for anything better.
You take the collar from her hands with a smile. You adjust the collar around her neck checking to make sure it wasn't too tight. “There we go, pretty girl.” She looks up at you with a shimmer in her eyes.
Your first show of the night went off without a hitch, everything went perfectly as you played with Wanda, tying her up with intricate knots of a pretty purple rope. You played and teased marking her up until she begged for release, letting her have it easily since the two of you had two more shows and didn't want to wear her out. Everything had to go well tonight.
“Who's ready to see my pretty pet shake with need for me?” You ask as you tie Wanda up once more. The crowd cheers for you, tips already flowing in making you smirk. “All of you are so thirsty to see me play with my precious pet. I just know this is what you think about when you go home.” You run your hand down Wanda's front until you're rubbing small circles on her clit. She bucks her hips into you.
“Please Mommy…inside! Please!” You shush her.
“Patience pet we just started.” You pick your hand up, slapping it against her wetness making a beautiful sound. “You love everyone watching you don't you pet?” You ask and she nods, earning her another slap. “Proper answers pet or you aren't cumming until the end of next show.” She panicked a bit, looking up at you. Harsh lines on your face. There was love there she knew there was, but you looked so unforgiving right now.
“Yes Mommy! I love them watching me! I love that they get off to me coming undone at your hand.” You smiled, grabbing her face and kissing roughly, a bruising kiss made even more so as you bit her bottom lip, tugging as you ripped a moan out of her.
“That's a good pet.” Without any more prep you shove two fingers inside of her. She kicks her legs a bit, hips moving on their own.
“Ah! Mommy!” She cries out, looking up at you, eyes glossy and hazy.
“This is what you wanted isn't it?”
“Yes Mommy!”
“So be a good girl and take what Mommy gives you.” You add a third finger, stretching her out. You move your other hand to her mouth, sticking three fingers in her mouth as she eagerly sucks. You could feel her getting close. “Go on pet cum for Mommy.” You tell her and she's coming undone beneath you, chanting ‘Mommy’ beneath you. As you fucked her through her orgasm.
“That's a good girl. Mommy’s good girl.” You cooed giving her kisses as you untied her. “Thank the audience for watching you sweetie.” Wanda on wobbly legs much like a baby deer got up and did a little bow.
“Thank you for watching Mommy fuck me.” A big smile plastered on her face as tips came flying in and you could hear people calling her cute wishing she was there's. You come up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“Come on sweetie. Time for some aftercare.” you whisper in her ear helping her back to your room, bringing her to the bed in there.
Holding her against you, you let out a sigh feeling yourself dropping. Trying to fight it, you've been fighting it all day. You didn't want to do this today. You'd been doing your best to stay in Domspace, but at the end of the day you're a switch and subspace had been calling your name all day.
You hadn't realized you were gripping Wanda tighter until she squealed.
“Y/N? Is everything okay?” She looks up at you, eyes bright once more, studying you to figure out what you needed.
“Fuck, Wands I'm sorry.” You loosen your grip. “I don't know if I can do another show with you tonight.” You admit to her.
“What? Why not?” she sits up, straddling you.
“I'm…” you bite your bottom lip, looking away from her gaze. She slowly brings you back to meet her green eyes.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” The love and care in her voice made you want to just fall apart into subspace. You feel tears well up in your eyes, stinging as you try to stop them, pushing your palms into your sockets.
“All I've wanted all day is to be in subspace and I can't do that. I have to be your Dom right now and I'm struggling to stay above water and I'm sorry I can't be what you need right now.” Your voice cracked and struggled to come out as you felt the tears push past your palms, running down your cheeks. A soft sniffle coming from you and a hiccup.
You felt Wanda's hands gently wrap around your wrists and just as gently pulling them from your face.
“Look at me sweetie.” It's a command, but in the most loving way you've ever heard. You have no choice, but to comply. The way she's looking at you in such a loving way as she pushes your hands above your head, pushing them into the pillows. Her nails ever so slightly dig into your wrists.
“Do you need Mommy?” Her voice thick like honey with her accent, enough to pull you under. You feel everything get fuzzy around the edges.
“Y-yes…but…” you try to argue, but she quiets you with a kiss.
“shhh baby I've got you. I can handle this. Let Mommy take care of you.” That's it she's got you, she said you'd drown in her if you tried to pull away and this is it right here. You're drowning in her. The roles reversed on you suddenly.
When was the last time you got to be in subspace? A year? Two? Had it been even longer? Those big thoughts swirling in your head, you thought Wanda wouldn't notice, but she does.
“You're thinking too hard sweetie. Let go. Babies like you don't need such big thoughts.” A soft moan pushes past your lips. Wanda smiles at the state you're in. Moving your wrists together so they can be held by one of her hands while the other pushes past the waistband of your pants. You hadn't let Wanda touch you so far, but the feeling of her fingers ghosting over your cunt.
“Mmm Mommy please…please!” You folded so easily for her and she gave in easily, pushing past your folds. Two fingers stretching you as you moaned out in pleasure, she filled you so well.
“You make such pretty noises detka. moya malen'kaya devochka. (My little baby girl.)”
“Fuck, Mommy cumming! C-can I cum?” You looked up at her desperate for release.
“Go ahead. Cum for Mommy, I want to see you fall apart for me.” You felt your coil snap, back arching and hips bucking to match her speed. You rode her fingers through your orgasm, gasping by the end with how intense it felt. How long has it been? “Fuck you're so beautiful moya lyubov.” You looked up at her, feeling tears in your eyes once more. She let your wrists go.
She moved back into place, grabbing your phone and handing it to you. “Here baby find some tik toks for us. I'm going to clean you up and get some water. No more tears, okay? Mommy’s got you.” Wanda leaned over kissing your forehead lightly before grabbing the cloth, gently cleaning you, shushing you every twitch from overstimulation until she's cleaned you properly.
You don't want her to, but she leaves the bed to grab a water as you scroll, curling up onto your side. Wanda came back behind you, taking a few sips of the water before resuming your scrolling as Wanda settled in behind you. Sharing videos you had previously liked and then going to your for you page and scrolling as you came back. You set your phone down, turning to Wanda and tangling yourself into her.
“You were so good for me baby.” You mumbled against her finally feeling better now that you got to drop. She moved to run her fingers through your hair.
“Feel better?” She asks leaving a kiss on your temple.
“Much. Have you ever…?” You let the question die on your lips as you look up at her.
“No. I just followed what you've done. I don't know how fit I am to be a Dom for you, but we can always explore it when we aren't in a time crunch.” She teases, making you laugh.
“How did I get so lucky?” You questioned, leaning up to pepper kisses all over her face.
“I think I'm the lucky one. If I hadn't taken this job…if I hadn't gotten paired with you? I would have gone on thinking those walking red flags were actual Doms. None of them come anywhere close to you Y/N.” Her green eyes bore into you with a love that you felt you could never truly appreciate no matter how hard you tried.
“I think I'll be able to do our last show. I wanna see your make up ruined from taking my strap down that pretty throat and then I'm going to fuck you until you're dumb and screaming for Mommy to stop.” You gripped her face, feeling her breath hitch at your words. Her eyes flicking to your lips.
“M-Mommy…” she was squirming beneath you, “not fair!” She whined.
“What's not fair baby?” You ask with faux concern. You even tilted your head slightly for dramatic effect.
“How easily you can switch! Not fair!” You can't help, but laugh as she pouts.
“Mommy’s done this a long time, switching wasn't always so easy for me. Once the sub in me is satisfied the Dom runs free.” You say against her lips, pulling her in for a bruising kiss.
You couldn't wait to ruin your pet. Your favorite pet.
#ley speaks#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#ley writes#wanda x reader#wanda x you#natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff smut#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanov
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Deal (Bucky Barnes Fic)
Blunt Part 4
(Blunt Part 4, trust me the smut is VERY much on its way)
Part 3
Summary: Y/N finally shows, and Bucky feels more than rewarded for his patience
Being a soldier, you have to be sure.
You have to know your enemy, your team, you have to have the right skills and the right temperament for the job.
Is your aim dead on, do you know your location, did you check your six… every damn time you have to be one hundred percent sure.
Bucky knew right then, whiskey in hand with Tony at his side—he was damn sure that red was her fucking color.
That suit hugged her in all the right ways, hair down, heels high… and her eyes, staring right at him.
Bucky gulped.
“There’s my boys.” She called as she sauntered over.
“Do my eyes deceive me,” Tony purred, “or has Y/N L/N come out to play?”
“Oh I’ve come for much more than that.”
She perched herself on the barstool beside him, crossing one leg over the other. A signature of hers, Bucky had come to notice.
“I need a whiskey, and I need this god awful music changed.”
Tony waved to the bartender, tapping his glass for a refill. Holding up two fingers, signaling for another.
Looking at Barnes in his shell shock, Tony signaled for 3.
“My, my. Awfully bossy now that you’re off the clock.” Tony said.
She rolled her eyes, “I never pegged you to be against role reversal.”
“Role play I’m all for. I’ll let you play the captain tonight if it’ll get you to come out more. Speaking of…”
He smacked Barnes on the back to wake him the hell up.
“Bucky here is playing the role of depressed loner tonight, which is really riveting for all of us.”
She chuckled, and Bucky reminded himself to kick the shit out of Tony during training tomorrow.
Her eyes landed on him again, and she smiled.
“No ‘hi’ for me?” She purred.
Dear god, what was happening?
“You finished work?” He choked.
The bartender delivered their ryes, and Y/N swiftly raised the glass to her lips.
“Honestly?” She asked.
Bucky nodded.
She smiled, “No.”
Both men went wide eyed. She had to be joking.
“Are you shitting me?” Tony asked.
She laughed, “Don’t look so surprised. You begged me to come.”
“Of course I did. I just didn’t think you’d have the willpower to put down your damn tablet.”
Watching as she downed her glass, Bucky couldn’t muster a word. Who was this woman in front of him?
“Well… I thought about what you said. I never show, but I’m always good with the final details. I can’t control the outcome by rushing through the project. Handing something in a week before the deadline isn’t going to resolve things faster. Besides…”
She tapped her fingers on the top of the glass, and the bartender moved to make her another drink.
“I have more pressing matters here.”
Bucky couldn’t stop searching her eyes. Sam labelled her right a month back, Little Miss Wild Card.
“Like what?” Bucky asked.
Something in her eye turned. That glimpse of darkness he’d only seen when he took her glasses, standing inches apart from one another. His head was spinning.
“Well for starters, drinking Wilson under the table. Where is he?”
As if on cue, Sam came up behind her with a beer in hand.
“You wish.”
He slung an arm over her shoulder, and Bucky felt his stomach turn.
“I told you if you came, we were going hard. I’m keeping my eye on you to make you keep your promise.”
She grabbed her fresh drink and swiveled in her seat.
“I always keep my promises, you know that.”
Sam rambled on, and Bucky finished the drink given by Tony.
It’s not like it would do much, but he wouldn’t let booze go to waste.
Bucky realized too late how harsh the drink was. That was not whiskey. He looked up across the bar, seeing Thor at the other ended.
Thor raised his flask, pointing back at the soldier.
Hm, nice to know the God was looking out for him.
“Hey. Eyes on me, Sergeant.”
Bucky turned, Y/N looked at him pointedly.
He’d never get used to that. This different look she had about her, intense and daring.
She grinned cheekily, leaning in close.
Sam and Tony had begun their own challenge of drinking, yammering on about the happenings of the last party…
Somehow for a moment in this crowded room, he had her all to himself.
“What’s this I hear about you being a loner?”
Bucky pursed his lips, debating if honesty was his best policy. She’d blown off work to be here and gone so far as to admit it. He should return the favor.
“Honestly,” he rested himself against her shoulder, “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
Her gaze didn’t falter as she hummed, “Like I said to Wilson, I always keep my promises.”
“You didn’t.”
That phased her, tilting her head as Bucky twirled his glass.
“You told me you’d come when you got everything done, yet you wrote it off to be here.”
He ducked his lips to her ear, something he dare not try since his strong attempts a month ago. The liquor was giving him his confidence back.
“What are your pressing matters here, Y/N?”
She shocked him by turning her chin towards his, lips now a fraction of a distance apart.
She lingered, and he reveled in her proximity. What he would give to sit like this with her the whole night…
“I’m not one for subtlety. And with your actions this past month, I can tell neither are you.”
He was entranced by her voice, hypnotized at its sultry slowness. His heart pounded as he tried to read her, subtle-avoidant though she said, he hadn’t been able to pull much from her before tonight. A compliment, her riding declaration and her proposition of praise had been divine deliverances in themselves. But he worried that she was playing him, getting him back for his blunt flirtations.
No. She wouldn’t do that, she was honest. Though she was harsh and sharp, she wasn’t cruel.
Still… he feared he would lose out on something he never really had.
Bucky looked down as her hand reached for his thigh, and he tried to stifle a groan.
“I remember everything you’ve said to me, James. The praises of my character, my beauty, that you like a woman that takes charge, that you want to add me to your work out routine…”
She slid her hand up his thigh, his breath grew shaky.
“I thought it was just harmless flirting. I couldn’t tell what you really wanted.”
She rose from her stool, slowly reaching for his belt.
“I couldn’t let you know that I’ve wanted you since the first moment I laid my eyes on you.”
Now Bucky couldn’t breathe. He grew vastly aware just how many people were in the room. Sam and Tony only a few steps away, they could turn at any moment and see her wandering hands…
Jesus Christ, he wanted her now.
“But now I know. I came tonight for you, I don’t want to dance around it anymore James.”
And then she slid away.
It was like electrocution, his spine rippled and his skin was on fire. He almost rose out of his seat.
“So here’s what we’re going to do,” She waved to the bartender, another round for the four of them. “You and I, are going to socialize, dance, tell stories, drink…”
She slid their new glasses towards them.
“At midnight, I’ll say I have to wake up early and leave. You’ll leave shortly after, head to your room and you’ll find me there.”
Bucky bit the inside of his cheek, hiding his lustful smirk.
Lifting her whiskey up, and urging him to do the same, she smiled.
“Then for the rest of the night, I’m yours.”
She clinked her glass against his, “We have a deal, Sergeant?”
He stopped himself from reaching out for her, instead mirroring her as she finished her glass.
“Deal.”
~
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- He finally agrees to be rough -
- Cod Men Scenarios -
Mdni 18+
Your favorite x fem!reader
Tw: rough, slightly mean top, light restraint
Not proofread and I wrote this all at once after work so that’s my excuse if it sucks 🤷🏻♀️ anyway enjoy the dirty words! This is absolute fucking depraved filth btw just a heads up
He refuses to be anything but gentle and sweet with you for the longest time. But after you start begging him to just use you and squirm against him for more every time he gets you in bed, his patience wears through.
Before you know it, he isn’t gently caressing you in missionary like he planned.
No, he currently has you drooling all over his pillow.
Your bare ass is raised as high as your knees and arched back will allow, and your hands are clawing at the sheets around you.
He’s knelt behind you, focused and on-task as usual. He grips the meat of your upper thighs and ass with his broad grip, spreading open everything you’ve got.
“Stop clenching them,” he growls, staring at your tingling, damp flesh he’s so lewdly exposing for himself. You tuck your arms under yourself at the feeling of cool air hitting the most sensitive parts of you that were normally kept warm by the skin he’s pulling taut.
“What?” You ask breathily, not understanding. He grunts and suddenly reverses what he’s doing with his grip on your ass, pushing your cheeks together roughly for a second before spreading them back upwards and apart again. His thumbs move to either side of your outer lips to spread you even more. His throat releases a deep sigh with a growl under it and you feel one of his hands release its grip. After a second, you jump at the feeling of a fingertip quickly poking at your drooling pussy a couple times, as if to bring your attention to it.
“Your holes. Keep them open for me,” he grunts at you. His hands leave your ass abruptly and you bite your lip at the feeling of all your bits squishing back together, now much more slippery and cold than before.
He grabs the edge of the headboard you’re face down in front of and moves from his knees up to his feet in a squat behind you. You blush and grab the pillow under your head as you take in the feeling of being downright mounted.
The headboard creaks under his palms and he grunts quietly through his panting while he adjusts his wide footing, keeping his knees spread wide, and lightly humps the tip of his dripping cock against your opening a couple times.
You’re breathing heavily beneath him, cockdrunk and squirming when you feel a firm seat to your ass. A loud yelp escapes you before you can stop it. His hand is already back on the headboard with the other and he’s staring down at where his cock is poking at you. “Do I need to repeat myself?” He reminds you. You shake your head and focus on relaxing and unclenching your insides. It’s difficult when you’re so turned on.
With some mental effort, you feel yourself completely let go of your muscles and he grunts loudly. “Good, hold it,” he orders. He pulls the leaking tip away from your core for a second before quickly rutting the head in with the smallest few breakneck thrusts.
You squeal and reflexively clench down, pulling away at the overwhelming pleasure of the hot bit of thick flesh managing to successfully pop in and out of the cunt you just so desperately focused to relax. His hands grab your hips and pull you right back. “Open,” he barks at you.
You manage to let your muscles open up more quickly than last time and you’re afraid the wood paneling in front of you might break because of the buckling sounds he’s pulling from it.
This time, his thrusts aren’t shallow horny little thrusts. He plants his feet and crams his fat cock deep into you, pressing in until he’s flush against your ass and the pressure from his hips is holding your arched back in place. He lets out a barked out groan of a chuckle at the feeling of you wrapped around him and squealing like a toy. He breathes in a hiss through his teeth and starts using his legs to rock the weight of his hips into you, slamming his groin against your ass with rhythmic, disgustingly sloppy noises every second or so. It’s not fast but it’s rough.
You squeal and gasp and clench your muscles, but he’s fine with that now. Your ears begin to ring as every slap of his hips melts together into one fluid, heavenly pleasure. He watches you with adoration as you mumble and drool and cry under him.
He moves back to his knees and lets go of the headboard to push your belly flat on the mattress. One of his burly forearms is quickly braced on the bed next to you, while the other curls around your neck gently. He cradles your head in the crook of his inner elbow and holds your chin up so he can see your cute face. He presses his nose roughly against your cheek, smushing the other one against his huge bicep holding you in a gentle headlock.
He rests his weight on you and you’re trapped, face, shoulders, and neck surrounded by his warm arm, the side of your head getting all the attention from his grunting and hugging lips while he’s vibrating praise through your skull with that deep voice, and the rest of your body being lovingly crushed down into the mattress by his body weight as he rocks into you deeply.
You begin to breathe more heavily and shake, feeling your muscles give out. Your clit is pressed against the bedsheets with how deeply he’s grinding into you, and it’s bringing you close to the edge quickly.
He keeps grinding in, intentionally trying to create the wettest, lewdest noises from your swollen sloppy folds. “Do it.” He orders, and you feel your orgasm building even more quickly. “Do it.” the tone in his voice does something to you and heat washes over you.
He presses in deep as he feels you reach your orgasm, rolling deep thrusts into you as his legs plant themselves and slide with the force of his animalistic sloppiness. He’s curling around you and whining and following closely behind you. He squirms around amidst frantically trying to reach his peak, managing to get his knees to flank and squeeze your body on either side. You feel him twitch inside you and his balls contract against your clit with every pulse of his release, hot and deep. He pulls out, watching globs of his fluids fall out of your abused entrance.
“Rough enough for you?”
You look at him, biting your lip and wondering if you have enough energy to be snarky.
Please like or reblog if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!
#john price#simon ghost riley#johnny soap mactavish#gaz garrick#Konig#keegan p russ#sebastian krueger#alejandro vargas#rodolfo parra#rudy parra#cod#cod mw2#headcanons#fem!reader#reader#soap mactavish#könig#simon riley#gaz#ghost#kortac
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Phases
Phase Two: Wildfire
LMH, HJS
Masterlist, Story Masterlist
wc: 7.1k
Story Synopsis: Whoever said patience is a virtue have never met Jisung and Minho.
warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, poly!minsung (minho chapter focus), service top!minho x switchfem!reader, mxm, a bit angsty but its alright, unprotected but clean piv, oral (f receiving), lil bit of ass play/anal, morning sex, marking, cream pie, so sweet my teeth hurt
Phase One ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ Phase Two ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ Phase Three
A/N: this site hates me and likes to delete parts of my story, so there will be minor errors but it shouldn’t be too bad. just please bear with me ://
Has Minho ever been affectionate? No, never of his own accord. Did that stop you from expressing your own affection? Never. He’d never admit it, to you or to Jisung, but he secretly loved when you’d persist even after he shrugged you away, it made him feel wanted. That’s all he’s felt since finding you, and Minho’s amazed he even managed to do that.
Until he met Jisung, he’d never had the easiest time making friends, let alone dating. He had almost an instant realization that he’d found some life long companions, but that also came with the territory of having to actively keep the friendship alive knowing full well that talking isn’t one of his strong suits. Jisung was friends with everyone, his introvertedness came unraveled whenever someone of a slightly larger personality came around to bring it out of him, so becoming close with the other boy was rather simple. You, on the other hand, he had no idea where to even begin to approach. Which, when he thinks back on now, seemed so silly. You had taken him in with open arms and he felt right at home, and it scared Minho beyond belief.
Meeting the two of you was the only thing Minho seemed to be able to gage some control on. The only reason he gained the confidence to ask Jisung on their first date was because he’d caught Minho one day by dropping by his place unexpectedly, the younger was never really aware of personal space. He had burst through the closed door of Minho’s bedroom to catch him in the aftermath of cleaning a vibrant purple dildo. Neither of them had spoken for a few minutes, just staring at one another until Minho asked if Jisung wanted to get take out for dinner.
It wasn’t an explicit date, but the both of them knew.
Everything important to him has come to life because of horrible, horrible timing. First with Jisung, then with you, and Minho has never felt his life to be so out of control until now. When you’d caught him and Jisung kissing that night, it was like a little piece of him broke apart seeing the look on your face. He didn’t want things to go the way they did, and he hated himself for reacting so badly. But how was he supposed to tell you that he felt like his life was downward spiraling and you seeing him making out with your best friend was the cherry on top?
The two days he went without seeing you were like hell. Literal hell. He even called out sick at work because he couldn’t leave his house without fighting the urge to go to yours. Minho knew that if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t want you showing up at his door and prying into his feelings that even he was struggling to understand. No matter how hard he tried to vocalize what his emotions were to Jisung, it only came out as jumbled words and mixed noises that made no sense to either of them.
Given the circumstances, maybe he should’ve tried a little harder to reach out to you. But that little part inside him told him that if he pushed you too far, you'd run away. For that reason, he let Jisung do the talking first, and it seemed to have worked.
When you finally picked up his call, Minho felt tears sting in his eyes when he heard your voice. Then you told him you loved him, and Jisung told him he loved him, and even though it wasn’t the first time you’d said it, through the phone he could feel that you meant it.
Seeing you and knowing that you knew, but unable to get himself to speak about you three’s relationship was suffocating Minho, almost as much as it was you. Jisung encouraged him to no end to talk about it with you and every time you came over he swore to himself that he would. And then he didn’t.
To be fair, it had only been two weeks since the incident at Changbin’s party, but in that time you’d made an effort to come over every day, even if it was just to have dinner. He was well aware of what was happening behind closed doors with you and Jisung, even got off to the thought of it on more than one occasion. Him and Jisung had uncountable shared moments like that, it was easy to picture himself watching the two of you together and the things he might say. But imagining you, he had to get a little creative. Were you subby, like him? Did you whine and whimper at the nasty things Jisung says and get weak in the knees if he so much as looked at you with those eyes? Minho always thought you were the same as him and would do anything to please, so that’s how he’d fantasize about you, on your knees with your eyes big and pleading for something to stuff your mouth, Jisung towering above you and calling you all kinds of names and spewing whatever lewd things he could think of to get you even more wound up.
He’d cum hard when he thought too deeply about it, pushing himself to the verge of calling Jisung over at 2 a.m. because he couldn’t satisfy himself the way he did. The not so recent addition of you in his fantasies made it all the worse, especially now that the things he thought of may be true.
On the verge of sexual and, even moreso, emotional combustion, Minho decided that it was time. He had the entire date plotted in his head down to the very minute. He blames you a little for his sudden eagerness, the last time you and Jisung were over he caught a glimpse of the now faded red streaks that lined down the younger’s chest and immediately knew what it was from.
Jisung had helped him a little bit before he decided to go through with his plan, at least he thought he was helping. If anything, his presence was making Minho all the more nervous because of how badly he didn’t want to fuck anything up.
“Babe, everything will go great. Do you want me to hang around in the shadows in case you need emotional support?” The younger handed Minho his nice white dress shirt and watched as he changed.
“What if she says no?” Minho was concentrating too hard, unable to even button up his shirt with his shaky hands.
Jisung moved to help him, calm him with the gentle skin on skin as he finished the buttons and adjusted the collar, “she won’t say no. She loves you too much.” He planted a quick kiss on Minho’s lips. As much as he enjoys kissing him, it did little to ease the churning in his stomach.
It was late in the afternoon when he came to your place to pick you up. Minho had hesitated to knock on your door, fidgeting with the bouquet of flowers he picked out and recalling all the things in his picnic basket. Just as he raised his fist, the door swung open and he caught a whiff of your sweet, floral perfume. Minho almost folded right then and there, light from the window surrounding your figure like the gates of heaven.
“Do you always wait outside for fifteen minutes before coming in?” You joked so easily and tugged him inside by the arm. He took a second to look you up and down, admire your pretty dress and take in the sight of you getting dolled up just for him. “You’re staring,” you said, taking the basket from his hands and setting it on the floor.
“I am,” he confirmed, still not looking away.
The giggle you let out made his lip curl slightly and stick out the bouquet for you to take. Of course you did with a gracious smile and took them into the kitchen to place in a vase, “let me get my shoes.” You ran through the house to grab what you needed and pondered taking a coverup or not, “will it be cold?”
“If it is, I have my jacket for you,” Minho called back, silently patting himself down to make sure he was actually wearing one. He was, a beige cardigan that would look perfectly oversized on you. Taking another second to spray a little cologne, Minho took a peak at himself in a nearby mirror just as you walked back out, ready to go.
“You look pretty,” you say as you walk up behind him, placing a gentle hand on his arm to get him to face you. Minho felt his ears heat up at the compliment, smiling in acknowledgement. Warmth took over his skin when you reached up to fix the chain adorning his neck, feeling your fingertips grazing the nape to move the clasp to the back. As you finished, you ran your hands down his chest slowly, and Minho would’ve fallen to his knees right then and there. Without moving, you look up at him innocently, “what are we doing today?”
Bravely he took your hands in his and intertwined your fingers. “I was thinking about a late picnic? Take a walk along the river and just… be together?”
“Sounds perfect.” Without a second thought, you stand on your tippy toes and place your lips to his cheek so nonchalantly. It was effortless on your part whereas Minho could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He found himself touching the part of his cheek where you had kissed him, lingering there and blushing just that much more until you called his name and led him outside.
And everything was going perfect, the weather was perfect, found the perfect picnic spot, had a perfect late lunch, Minho was nowhere near as nervous as he was just a few hours ago. Banter between the two of you was normal, commenting about anything and everything, neither of you could stop yourselves from talking about Jisung as well, you both laughed over his need to constantly be touching one of you. Because things were going so well, he couldn’t help but mess it all up by asking one simple question, “are you and Jisung dating?”
He asked it with a smile on his face and laughter in his voice but Minho could see you hesitate to answer despite your kind expression. You observed him backtrack upon saying the words out loud and could practically hear the glass shattering in his head. To ease him as much as possible, you took his hand and played with his fingers. “I think so. I guess it depends on you.”
You felt him tense with just his palm in yours, seeing his shoulders pull back and eyes fall towards your thumb running along his, “what do you mean?” His breathing sped up a little as did his heart rate.
Here was the downward spiral once again, and he doesn’t even know why when he was the one that asked the question. Minho didn’t mean for it to come up so early and suddenly in the date, but he couldn’t help his own curiosity at the expense of his emotional state. His hand trembled in yours, you could feel it no matter how much he tried to hold steady. You took the opportunity to cup your free hand over his to hold tightly, “walk with me.” You didn’t wait for him to respond to lift him off the picnic blanket and lead him towards the river. Minho threw a look over his shoulder at the set up. “We’ll come back for it, don’t worry.”
Minho went with you hand in hand, still shaking in your palm but not as much as the cool breeze soothed his overheating skin. You held his hand tighter, squeezing in reassurance that he didn’t need to say anything, but would be there to listen if he wanted to. There was nowhere in particular you were leading him, leisurely walking as close to the river as possible because he loved to watch the windy waves.
You watched him intently for any signs that he was uncomfortable knowing he wouldn’t say if he truly was. Minho never talked much about his past relationships, the only reason you knew anything was when he’d mention something in passing, but you assumed the worst. He caught the way you were looking at him, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you smiled up at him, sympathetic.
“I am. I just… can’t tell you why.” Minho squeezed your hand a little tighter.
You squeezed harder, “you don’t have to.”
“It’s just,” he pulled the two of you over to sit at a bench overlooking the river. It was slightly colder now that the sun was setting, the small shiver that ran through you was enough for Minho to take off his cardigan and drape it over your shoulders, already warm. “I don’t know how to explain it without sounding insane.”
“Have you met Jisung?” The two of you giggled again at the mention of your other partner.
“He’s confidently insane, it’s a big difference.”
Tilting your head, “then what are you?”
Minho pondered for a second, looking at the water then back to you. “Insanely anxious.”
“Really? I pegged you for a chaotic neutral.” When you nudged his shoulder with yours, Minho’s cheeks flushed at the sorely specific term.
A certain bright purple image flashed in his mind, “d– did Jisung tell you?”
You raised an eyebrow, “tell me what?”
“Nothing. Nevermind,” he deflected quickly.
“But really, Min,” you brought his attention back up to your eyes with your finger guiding his chin up. “Your mind doesn’t scare me.”
“It scares me.” It came out as a pleading sob, voice cracking slightly as he opened your hand to lay his cheek into. The action itself felt more rewarding than getting him to speak. The split second where he looked at you with big, round eyes, lips pouting trying to find how to put into words what was happening in his head, no sense of his emotions because they were just so big that no words could do it justice. You knew. “I love you a lot, and it scares me,” he whispered.
The smile that plastered across your face was almost criminal for how deep the conversation was. “If you keep looking at me I might cry,” he admitted but was reluctant to let go of your hand.
“I can look away if you’d like.” Minho nodded and you looked out at the river, “the sunset is pretty.”
“Jisung makes it so easy not to think. He makes me feel stupid in so many ways, it’s humbling and freeing at the same time. I appreciate him and adore him and I forget to show him that sometimes.” You resisted the urge to look at him, catching yourself before you could fully turn your head.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, “I wonder if the water is cold.”
“I forget to show you, too, and I’m sorry. I don’t understand anything going on inside my head or anything I’m feeling, but I love you.” Minho kissed the inside of your palm and snaked it back to thread through his hair. Staring blankly ahead, solely focused on his voice and his words and his hair between your fingers, your lips curled into a gentle smile. “Jisung doesn’t need to understand me– I mean, he does, but in a way where he doesn’t have to understand every miniscule bit, and he still loves me. You understand everything– the good, the ugly, every dark and twisty, scary corner and you still love me. I met Jisung and there was this, like, stupid flame he lit with his annoying smile. Then I met you and it spread like a fucking wildfire and now, I can’t get out. I don’t ever wanna get out. I hate myself for how you found out, it feels fucking criminal that we did that to you and it was so unfair. You and him… my everythings. And I’ll spend however long I need to to show you that you are. Let the fire consume me until there’s nothing left.”
“That sounds painful,” you finally faced him to find his chest heaving up and down, already staring straight at you.
“It is,” Minho whispered back.
“Can I kiss it better?” Your body moved on its own, turning towards him and scooting closer so your knees brushed his.
“Kiss the pain away?”
“Kiss the pain away.”
Minho nodded, with the hand that held yours in his hair, he grazed down your arm to softly pull you in even closer, almost chest to chest but not quite. A slight tug on his roots and Minho came in to press his lips to yours, chaste, supple, so sincere in the way he kissed you. Only closed lip kisses, but still so satisfying. He felt pillowy and warm and you could taste the lingering minty chapstick he applied earlier. There was the clean smell of the river water swirling around to mix with his natural musky, cottony scent to the point that it made you dizzy. Was it only a few seconds, a few minutes, or a few hours the two of you kissed like this? It didn’t matter. You wanted more as soon as he pulled away.
He pecked your cheek and brought you into a bone crushing embrace, tucking himself away into your neck. You were taken aback for a moment, but melted into the hug anyway to feel Minho relaxing just the same. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Something you don’t already know?” Minho’s chuckle rumbled against your chest.
“Do you like girls?”
Pulling away, the weight on his shoulders seemed to have shrunk based on how he raised his eyebrow at you. “Don’t ask me stupid questions,” and he crashed his lips to yours again.
Entering his apartment hand in hand felt right, it made sense to follow behind him as he kicked off his shoes and throw his keys on the nearby table, watch as he unloaded the picnic basket and leisurely walk around the house to do his mundane chores.
You smiled fondly as you watched him, eventually following him further into the house. The dress you were wearing was growing uncomfortable, having been wearing it all day. “Babe, can I borrow some clothes?” You called out mindlessly.
You couldn’t see it, but Minho shot you a happily surprised look as you entered his bedroom. “Of course.”
His room was always rather neat, everything having its place so it was easy to find a spare shirt and pair of shorts to change into. Then the sound of the toilet flushing and sink running from the ensuite bathroom made you jump, only to reveal a very homey looking Jisung emerging from it. “Oh! You’re back!” He greeted as you slung Minho’s shirt over your head, trotting over and planting a kiss on your lips.
Jisung was oddly normal about seeing you in Minho’s clothes, walking towards the door until he abruptly stopped and turned to do a double take, his eyes following his smile. “It went well?”
“It went great,” Minho appeared behind him, leaning against the doorframe. Jisung peered back at him over his shoulder, having to look up to meet his eyes. The younger one smiled and stood on his tippy toes to give Minho a casual peck.
You felt warm watching them, like your heart was on fire and it was coursing through your veins, a much different reaction to the first time you’d seen them kiss. A part of you wanted to cry with how happy you were, it was almost overwhelming. If it had been anyone else you probably would’ve on the spot. But it wasn’t just anyone. Minho and Jisung are your people. Your people, and they made you theirs as well. So maybe you let the ache in your waterline loose just a little and sniffled back the minor leak in your emotions, which made Jisung skip back over to you.
“Another one for you, too,” he gleamed and kissed you gently. “Did you guys bring back any food?”
“There’s leftovers on the counter,” Minho followed Jisung out of the room, leaving you for the time being.
It felt like the day had gone by all too quickly and you were exhausted. Not in a physical way, moreso emotional and feeling the effects now as you laid back onto the middle of Minho’s bed and stared at the ceiling. Comfortable it was to listen to their idle chatter in the background, so much so that you found yourself closing your eyes still on top of the covers, letting their voices lull you to sleep.
“Listen… She’s snoring,” Jisung held his finger up and hopped onto the counter to sit.
“Let her. I kinda dropped some heavy bombs on her today. And why can neither of you sit on the chairs like normal people? I bought them for a reason.”
The blonde took a bite of the picnic snacks, “like what? That you like it in the ass?”
“No! But… isn’t that implied?” Jisung shrugged, stuffing his mouth again. “It didn’t come out the way I wanted it to, but we got there eventually.”
“Really! So can we all fuck now?” He caught Minho by the neck as he passed by, trapping him between his legs and slinging his arms over his shoulders.
Minho rolled his eyes, “is that all you ever think about?”
“Fucking both of my scrumptious, beautiful, sexy ass partners? Absolutely, I think about it all the time.” He emphasized his point by grabbing his ass, smiling deviously.
Groaning, Minho leaned into Jisung’s arms, “just hug me for now. We can fuck later.” Jisung giggled and held him tighter, whispering an, “okay.”
As much as he wanted to stay, Jisung had to leave just a little before midnight, stranding Minho alone with his thoughts once again. Except he wasn’t upset about it. Actually, he was enjoying having you here, even if you weren’t conscious, he just liked having another body in the house. By now, the chores were done, he washed his face, and changed into his pajamas and still had downtime to just sit and watch you. It was a lot less creepy in his head, but he loved how cute you were when you were asleep, mesmerized. Laying on his side next to you, he refrained from touching so as not to wake you, but failed when you stirred and turned your face towards him. A stray strand of hair fell over your eyes, how uncomfortable that must’ve been, Minho found himself pushing it away and you were fluttering awake beneath his touch.
Groggily you blinked into consciousness, straining a little to look up at him, “what time is it?”
“Thirty past midnight,” Minho whispered back, fully threading his fingers through your hair now.
You didn’t move, just staring into his eyes and enjoying the light skinship. It was a rare thing to get from him, even before. You wonder if he didn’t because of the friendship line, or if he just isn’t keen on initiating it, you have all the time in the world to find out now.
“I’m sleeping here tonight.”
“Mhm.”
Wordlessly, he stood and lifted you just a little off the bed to make room for himself, managing to get you beneath the covers. You could hear his soft breathing and make out the handsome features of his face in the dim moonlight illuminating his room. The two of you faced each other now, heads in the pillows and hands loosely intertwined. “Are you tired?” You asked him quietly, seeing his eyes blinking slowly.
“No.”
“Are you lying?”
“No.”
“What are you thinking about?” Voices hushed, Minho untangled his fingers and brought them up to cup your jaw, thumb just barely grazing over the plush of your lips.
He let out a deep breath, “kissing you.” You lean in to give him another soft smooch, feeling tingly all over as you did.
“Now what are you thinking about?”
The enamored, lazy grin on his face was endearing, “you kissing Ji.”
Giggling, “I think about you kissing Ji, too.”
“We should get a bigger bed.”
“Can I bring my own blanket? You two are blanket hoggers.”
“What?!”
“Why do you think I sit on the end of the couch during movie nights?”
He was silently blinking at you, “...I need some space.” Minho rolled onto his back just to stare upwards, the comforter hooking around his legs to tug and leave your backside exposed. You knew he wasn’t being serious as he blindly reached for your hand to hold but let out an ironic laugh as you pulled the edge to prove your point. He adjusted himself and the blanket came loose again.
His side profile, even in the dull light, was beautiful. You let go of his hand to trace the outline of his nose with the tip of your finger, drawing all the way down to his plump lips then down his chin and neck to splay your hand across his chest. Minho looked like he was deep in thought, or his head could’ve been completely empty, both options were very possible but you hoped for the latter.
Wordlessly you moved under the blanket closer and threw your leg over his torso to straddle him, taking the comforter with you as you sat up. Minho didn’t say anything but rather raise an eyebrow and lay his hands on your thighs, loosely massaging up and down the muscle. With a sigh, you tilted your head down at him, pushing his bangs from his forehead and caressing his cheek. “So curious,” you whispered.
A small hum left his lips as you smoothed the furrow in his brow with your thumb. “Why are you frowning, pretty kitty?”
Immediately his face relaxed just to morph into a surprised state of confusion, eyes widening and twinkling while trying to read your expression. “How did you–”
“Our baby’s mouth isn’t the only thing that’s big.” Slowly you wiggled your hips backwards to sit on his crotch, growing harder by the second. The grip his hands had on your thighs tightened as though he was holding back, which was proving to be more difficult for both of you. “He talks a lot, but you already know that.” Minho accepted your kiss gratefully, sliding his hands up to your ass as you ran your tongue along his bottom lip. He moaned into the kiss when feeling you slip your tongue into his mouth, not fighting or battling but rather looking for a reaction. The lack of one is what made you pull away prematurely. Reattaching to the skin of his neck, “you don’t have to hold back with me, sweetheart.”
His body shivered and nails dug into your ass through the material of the borrowed shorts. Just barely did Minho cant his hips up to grind his erection into you, though almost instantly he let himself fall back to the bed. You followed, sitting onto him with your full weight and languidly moving back and forth while you continued to bite down his neck. “C’mon, pretty kitty. What do you want? Wanna be taken care of?”
Minho shook his head, no. “Wanna stop?” Another no. “Wanna use me?”
Oh, his ears perked up at that. “Y– you’d let me?”
“Only if you keep it our little secret, or we’ll both get punished.” You sat back to tug the shirt over your head, suddenly thankful that you’d changed earlier because the way Minho was staring at your breasts was a sight you’d never forget. He hesitated to let his hands climb higher until you took them and cupped them over your boobs, “use me. Just this once.” You gave him a wink, a signal that tempted him into groping you, tweaking your nipples before the excitement overtook him and flipped you onto your back.
His shirt came off in a split second and he was ravaging your lips again, not giving either of you a moment to breathe. Spit and saliva would’ve been dripping down your face if not for his desire to practically swallow you. Not that you would’ve minded either outcome, you couldn’t get enough. When Jisung said he’d trained Minho, you weren’t sure what that entailed. Seeing the older now you understood, he was on a tight, tight leash.
Hands were everywhere, in his hair, on your ass, scratching down his back, tugging at your shorts. Minho finally pulled away just to leave a trail of wetness down your chest. He handled you on the rougher side as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, teething and bruisingly groping the other like he was touch starved. It was like he didn’t know where he wanted to be, just that he wanted every part of you in his mouth because when he was finished with your boobs, Minho suctioned each inch of the skin of your torso and stomach to leave deepening red spots wherever he could.
Coming to the hem of your (his) shorts, it was all but ripped from your body along with your underwear, you swore you heard the fabric tear. It didn’t deter him, Minho continued his rampage down your legs and inside your thighs. His eyes somehow grew even wider upon seeing your cunt, wet and dripping, but didn’t make a move to touch you there. Even with your hands in his hair guiding him, Minho stopped and looked up at you, “can I?”
“Please,” you were almost whining even if there was no need for you to. He had all the power in the world now, and you didn’t need to beg for a single thing. He was more than excited to give you whatever you wanted.
Forget a man stuck in the desert without water, this was a whole new level of eagerness that words couldn’t do justice. To describe his enthusiasm would’ve required rewriting the entire english dictionary, which would’ve taken a lot more time than you had considering how skillful Minho was with his tongue and plump lips continuously stimulating your clit. He was moaning into your nerves and sending vibrations rippling through you, the addition of his fingers was your written demise, sending you over the edge in record time. Maybe it was because of how emotionally attached you felt towards him that made cumming so easy to accomplish. You’d always heard that sex with someone you love is an entirely different ball game, and whoever said that deserves to come as hard as he made you just now, every day of their life.
You wanted to return the favor, almost immediately trying to sit up as soon as you were able to recover enough, but Minho clambered over your body to keep you down.
“Let me do everything, please. Wanna make you feel good.” He begged, hiking your knees around his hips to keep you close.
“Awe, our Ji must never let you have your fun, hm? You already made me feel so good, kitty. Can’t I help you now?”
“No, no,” you tasted yourself on his tongue as he pressed a deep kiss to your lips, sending a shock of arousal down to your core again. “Can’t wait that long. Can I have you? Please.”
“Okay, sweetheart. How do you want me?”
Only a guttural groan from within his chest resounded through the room when you gave permission. Taking one leg from his side, he flipped you onto your belly with ease and planted more teethy kisses down your spine. He cupped your ass with both hands and bit harder into the flesh there, on the verge of breaking skin but it felt too good, you couldn’t even be mad. But, perhaps Jisung would be, his plaything marking you up like this and claiming you as his own. That was a worry for later.
It was getting harder to focus as Minho’s tongue roamed closer and closer to your core again. With his big hands, he spread your ass cheeks wide, licking your cunt from behind and burying his face between. He took a little extra time to trace the outline of your clit and draw upwards towards your asshole, hardly grazing the rim and making you shudder and a shot of heat pool in your belly again. The goosebumps along your skin made him chuckle and press a bit harder for more of a reaction, and when you moaned, he pulled away.
You’d never been touched like that, let alone licked. It was new and strange but so comfortable with him, knowing exactly how to touch you and just how to get you to melt. You almost stopped his fingers from entering your cunt again just to ask how the hell he did that because fuck, you wanted him to do it again.
But Minho moved on, circling his fingers at your wet hole to simply play with you, listening intently to the way your walls squelched and sucked him in. He seemed to have a fascination with your pussy, like he was entranced by a spell that couldn’t stop him from staring.
“Use your freedom while you have it, pretty kitty,” you snapped his attention back to the throbbing in his lower half and he almost cried at how hard his cock throbbed.
Placing a kiss and a lick to your pussy, Minho sat up and pushed your legs together, fisting his dick slowly to take in the sight of you. Looking over your shoulder as best as you could to see him, but his hand was planted in the middle of your back and pinching your skin lightly whenever you tried to get a better look. You were so easily controlled this way, nowhere to run and no way to see what was coming.
Spreading your ass again, Minho let the tip of his cock only prod at your asshole to see what would happen. You shivered and whimpered at the foreign sensation, but mewled louder when he traversed down to press at your cunt, bluntly pushing forward so slowly that you felt every inch of his cock stretching you so wonderfully. He felt different from Jisung, but just as good. While Jisung had length on his side, Minho had girth, it was hard to keep your cunt from clenching as you took him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck– oh god,” he muttered, “baby was right. So fucking tight.”
“Ah– easy, sweetheart.” You dug your hands into the mattress and gripped the sheets.
Minho sat up straight and adjusted his posture, knees on either side of your hips and using your ass as leverage to thrust shallowly, experimentally. A high pitched whine left him while a muffled cry came from you. It didn’t take long for him to find a slow but steady pace, knowing he’d blow early if he went too fast. But it only made you want to tease all the more.
“Such a big cock. Don’t know how to use it, do you kitty?”
“I– I do!” He pleaded.
“Show me, then. Please me.”
His hands moved to plant next to your head and his chest pressing against your back, trapping you. Wide spread his legs, full body weight in his hips, Minho pulled out further and slammed back into you. The clap of skin on skin was encouraging, as was the moan you let out. And he’d lost all resolve after that, letting gravity do the work to rock you into the bed with every stroke, both your bodies practically bouncing with how hard he pounded. The slapping sounds bounced off the walls, out the open windows and you had to say, you were proud of how pretty he sounded. You were building another high just listening to him, but could tell he was ready to blow.
You demanded he pick up the pace, “louder, kitty. Cry for me louder.”
He did, no longer holding back any noise that wanted to fall from his lips. As he lost the reins on his self control, Minho started growing sloppy, murmuring about how sweet you felt, how perfect you felt snug around his cock. “Gonna cum, fuck, so close–”
“Hold it. Wanna cum with you,” you called behind you as best as you could, even with the motions making your voice bounce. Minho understood, keeping rhythm as he sat back again on his hunches to use the strength of his thighs to continue moving. He elevated your hips just enough to change the angle, letting him slip somehow deeper and kiss your cervix so deliciously.
He was getting impatient, thrusts growing shallow as he got closer to his high. Despite not truly following orders, his neediness was helping you along to your own, the repeated quick prods to your sensitive spots was teetering you on the edge, crying his name when he hit it exceptionally good and made the bubble in your gut burst to suffocate you in blissful warmth. You knew he was still using you to achieve his orgasm, it only prolonged yours to milk him to completion.
Minho collapsed on top of you not even a minute later and didn’t move, keeping your hole plugged and soiled. It took more than a while for the both of you to regain your breaths, your arms spread across the mattress and Minho tracing mindless patterns along them. “I can hear your heartbeat,” he whispered.
“I can feel yours,” you whispered back.
He rolled over eventually, taking you with him to lay on your sides spooning, sweaty and sticky but fulfilled in more ways than one. His leg thrown over your hip, you held his hands to your chest tightly, feeling enveloped in warmth as Minho planted gentle kisses to the back of your neck and shoulder.
“Can’t wait to do that again in the morning.” Your admittance made him laugh and kiss your cheek.
Minho snuggled in closer, “can’t wait to wake up to you every morning.”
You’d spoken it into existence and went another round as soon as the two of you were coherent enough, though this time it was much slower. He was still somehow inside of you when you’d woken up to the sun beginning to rise. Feeling him grow hard already within your walls was another new experience that felt beyond amazing. Morning haze made your body numb and sensitive at the same time, his warm lips raise goosebumps all over again as he reached his hand around to graze your puffy clit.
It only took a few fond touches to get you wet and ready, though of course neither of you stopped there.
“I’ll never get tired of kissing you,” he muttered into your hair. “Smell so good, fit so perfect around me.”
Minho was even touchier than last night somehow, his hands never stopping finding a new part of your body to love. Your hips, your thighs, belly, love handles, chest, he even found a way to make your ankles feel sexy as he lifted your leg and met the joint half way in the air to place a kiss to.
The morning was spent in bed with him lazily thrusting into you from behind and caressing every bit of your body followed by unfiltered words as he came across it, annotating you like a good book. But a good book should always be accompanied by good music, his fingers strumming your center until you cried out a melody that would play in his head on repeat for ages. And you were filled to the brim once more, held so tightly and so loved that it felt impossible either one of you had ever been broken in the first place. There was just one piece missing.
But not to worry, he had burst through the door with almost comedic timing, seed seeping from your hole as he greeted the two of you.
“Awe, damn it. I missed out on the fun!” Jisung slumped, stripping his shirt and pants off and joining you and Minho in bed completely unphased by what had just happened. “We need a bigger bed,” he gave you a kiss on the forehead and one to Minho as well before taking up the space in front of you.
“She said we’re blanket stealers and wants to sleep on the edge,” Minho threw you under the bus before you’d even gotten to greet the blonde lying next to you.
“We’re what?!”
Their reaction was identical. “Be happy I don’t mind that you both also snore. Can I take a shower before you start attacking my sleeping preferences?”
“No! You sleep in the middle. Just like this,” Jisung copied Minho by tossing a leg over your torso and caging you between their bodies. You felt them interlock hands and rest it on your hip like another lovely hello.
“Why didn’t you stay?” You asked softly.
“Had a few errands to run,” the blonde eased your worries.
You reached your top hand back to run through Minho’s messy hair and the other dragging Jisung in closer by the chin, kissing his lips and humming. It was comfortable, so comfortable that your heart started to race and you wanted to hang your head out the window to scream to the world how in love you were and how you hoped everyone would look at you and feel jealous because of how much they loved you back. Was it petty? Yes. But you couldn’t help it, you were sickeningly happy and wanted everyone in the world to know.
With Jisung right in your face, you spoke, “I know I’m on birth control, but can one of you buy me a plan B? I just got double cum dumped and feel it sticking–”
“Double?!” Jisung yelled and sat up, looking over you at Minho. The older nodded yes to your question and pointed to where your bodies were still joined and held up two fingers, his cock flaccid now and doing very little to keep any fluids in. Looking closer, Jisung noticed the bruises covering your body and suddenly relaxed.
A mischievous grin replaced his jealousy. “Pup, I know I said you could do whatever you wanted to him. But I don’t see a single mark on him.” You looked behind you at Minho who attempted to hide his face in your hair. “Why don’t we go take a shower and change that?”
-
A/N: took me a sec to post this part...had a lot going on but we here now!!! and the character plot miiiight've gotten a bit lost but I'll make up for it in part 3 I promise!! so pleeeeease stick around for that it'll be worth it ;)
tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @leebitsimpracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning
#stray kids#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fluff#stray kids angst#stray kids han#stray kids lee know#poly!minsung#poly!minsung x reader#poly!skz x reader#poly!skz#poly!stray kids x reader#han jisung#jisung smut#jisung fluff#jisung x reader#jisung x yn#jisung x you#jisung x reader x minho#lee know#lee minho#lee know smut#lee minho smut#lee know fluff#lee minho fluff
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virgo season🪻♍ mini tarot reading ࿔*
decks used || the druidcraft tarot, wild uknown animal spirit & the prism oracle.
songs || shuffle pick from a random 2000s playlist.
when picking a group, use your sun and/or rising signs.
(disclaimer: based on current energies. all is alleged and for entertainment purposes only.)
🍊 Mutables | Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces
Song: The Fray - How to Save a Life
Cards: page of pentacles reversed, king of pentacles, eight of swords, Tiger (reversed), Flow
So, my dear mutable signs... it seems like this upcoming Virgo season is all about you working on getting your life back together after a period of disruption. In these past few weeks or months, you might have found yourself a little more sensitive, more reactive and easily overwhelmed. Perhaps you were pushed by people or circumnstances to let go of certain habits or routines that were already well set in your life, and that has made you feel out of balance. Going forward, I still see some struggle when it comes to making up for the empty space, plus there might be times when you go from 0 to 100 in a blink of an eye - so having no energy or motivation, and then going straight to being the most proactive and productive person on the planet - and, of course, going from one extreme to another must take a toll on your mental, emotional and physical bodies. With that, I must remind you that self-care is very important here. Don't let yourself stay stuck in situations or patterns that haven't been serving you, because they will only keep adding on to the frustration and unrest, but also please make sure to consciously keep working at a pace that is healthy and sustainable, to make sure you don't burn out.
One last thing that came through: making up with friends/family/acquaintances or reuniting after a challenging period of misunderstandings or non-communication. Watch out for how you express youself, and let them speak as well! Whatever has been broken, can be mended, but you also need to take some accountability and be fair. - This might not apply to everyone, but if you were looking for this message/confirmation, here it is.
🩰 Fixed | Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius
Song: Sean Kingston - Beautiful Girls
Cards: five of swords reversed, eight of cups reversed, queen of swords, Dragonfly reversed, Love
the song???! 😭
So, for all my beautiful fixed signs (no pun intendend lol): this Virgo season will be all about you stepping back into your power. You're feeling yourself, taking care of yourself, being more social and having more vibrancy in general. There's just so much stuff you can't be bothered with anymore, and letting go of that is finally allowing new, beautiful energy to come into your life. However, that might come easier to some than to others... Even if you're not bothered with those things actively, they might still be hanging out at the back of your mind, popping in every now and then throughout your day. Don't ignore them, alright? But don't dwell on them either. You should be going about these matters with logic and patience, so they can be resolved properly and as soon as possible.
I also feel now you're being a little more detached or acting a little colder towards certain people (if not all). You are definitely feeling more comfortable to put yourself out there and be more social, as a said, but there is still some distance that you're keeping between yourself and others. There's an aspect of self-protection here, but also self-love? You're self-protecting out of love for yourself, it feels like. After much trial and error, you have finally decided to give yourself what others haven't been able to. "I can buy myself flowers."
I keep getting pulled to that Queen of Swords + the Dragonfly reversed (indicative that the energy is out of balance, which then points towards 'lack of concentration and a busy mind'), and that reminds me of Gemini - so whether that is you or someone you're dealing with this season, that whole energy should be around you in these upcoming weeks.
🍎 Cardinal | Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn
Song: Britney Spears - Circus
Cards: death reversed, the tower reversed, five of wands, Lion, Strength
When everything around you is falling apart, people aren't getting along, and it seems like you're having to walk on eggshells to avoid being pulled into conflict, you'll have to take it upon yourself to step into power and either act as a mediator between those conflicting sides, or force it all to be done with. You're tired of chaos, of noise, of people being selfish and reckless, and now you're looking for peace and order, and you know the change has to start with you. However, that doesn't mean you're going to be docile and quiet, neither aggressive or argumentative! We have both the Lion and Strength here, so this is moreso about having patience, determination and (self)control.
Besides, some people might come out to poke you, provoke you, trying to get a strong reaction out of you - and sometimes they might get what they want, but here we have a reminder that you must really make an effort to keep it together and lead by example. - "There's only two types of people in the world / The ones that entertain, and the ones that observe." this part of the song in particular, feels relevant here.
In general, in this Virgo season I see you taking on more responsibilities, perhaps also packing your schedule with new/more activities and events, or finally waking up after a slow, fruitless period, and deciding to clean up all the mess around you so you can get back to action.
The final message that came through is about the Libra Venus transit, and it influencing you to pay more attention to your physical appearance. If you've been thinking about changing your style, haircut, starting or going back to getting your nails done, treating yourself to a spa day, getting a better skincare routine or something along those lines, this is the time to do that.
🌍 relevant transits:
⭒ mercury stations direct in leo on august 26th / shadow period ends on september 11th
⭒ venus enters libra (domicile) on august 29th
⭒ new moon in virgo on september 2nd
⭒ mars enters cancer (fall) on september 4th
⭒ mercury enters virgo (domicile) on september 9th
⭒ partial full moon lunar eclipse in pisces on september 17th
#tarot#tarot reading#astrology#monthly tarot reading#tarot services#pick a card#pick a pile#daily tarot#oracle reading#tarotcommunity#tarot reader
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i want mingyu to tie my hands and blindfold me with the ribbons from his chanel purchases
“how’s that, babygirl? too tight?”
you shake your head in the direction you think your boyfriend is standing and tug at the makeshift restraints to test them out. “feels good. can you touch me now?”
“patience, love,” mingyu chides. you can hear the amusement in his voice. “i’m not done yet. sit still.”
you’re confused by that— you’re already tied up and blindfolded, you don’t know what else is left to do. then you hear the shutter of a camera lens and it all makes sense. you set your lips in a pout.
“can’t that wait?” you whine. “wanna feel you.”
mingyu scoffs. “don’t be a brat. whose birthday is it?”
you slump back into the pillows. “yours. sorry.”
“pretty baby’s so worked up already, huh?” you nod. “don’t worry, just a few more. wanna capture the before and after.”
you let him take as many pictures as he wants— not that you have any other option, sitting quietly on the bed as he works.
you’d been the one to get him a new film camera for his birthday. rookie mistake.
every time the flash goes off, for just a fraction of a second, you can make out his silhouette behind the thin fabric of your blindfold. it’s torture, seeing him but not seeing him.
already, you feel desperate. you’ve never been deprived of touch and sight at the same time before and it has you reeling.
“fuck, you’re so wet,” mingyu breathes. “completely ruined your panties, baby.”
you jolt at the feeling of his fingers running over the soaked material. you hadn’t heard him set down the camera, hadn’t heard the footsteps of him approaching the bed or felt his presence next to you. just how far gone were you?
the sound of him sucking the same fingers into his mouth makes you whimper. mingyu just laughs.
“let’s get these off of you, yeah?”
“please…”
the mattress dips with mingyu’s weight as he climbs onto it. you hold your breath in anticipation but still let out a little yelp when you feel his canines brush against your hip instead of his fingers.
“gotta keep you on your toes,” he whispers, proceeding to pull your underwear off with his teeth.
“you’re insufferable.”
“is that any way to talk to the birthday boy?” mingyu asks, muffled by your thong in his mouth.
“kim mingyu, love of my life…” he hums pleasantly, expectantly. “you’re insufferable.”
the jab earns you a slap on your pussy but it’s worth it, and you smile victoriously for all of a second before mingyu’s shoving the underwear in your mouth. you moan around his fingers and the fabric, gagging a bit as he pushes in deeper.
he had been right, you are soaked. the taste of your own arousal on your tongue makes you want to press your thighs together to get some relief but your boyfriend is sitting right in between them, stopping you from doing just that.
“as much as i can tell you’re enjoying that, i need you to be able to talk so you can communicate with me while i fuck you. but you have to be good for me. are you going to be good?” you nod obediently. when he takes the panties back out of your mouth, you’re silent. “that’s better.”
he rewards you with a kiss, short but sweet. just enough for you to both be able to taste you on each other’s lips.
when he pulls away, you try and chase him, stopped short by the ribbons tied around your wrists. mingyu chuckles fondly at you and swoops down for another kiss. just because.
“ready, baby?”
“so ready.”
“what’s your color?”
“green.”
“that’s my girl.”
you’re picturing the face he’s making as he pushes into you. eyebrows furrowed in concentration, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, eyes trained on where your bodies connect… it’s almost enough to make you beg him to rip the blindfold off. almost.
instead, you focus on the feeling.
you’re doing things in reverse tonight, birthday boy’s wishes. he wanted to fuck you first and then eat you out while you’re still dripping with his cum. it feels like more of a present for you than for him but you’re not one look a gift horse in the mouth— or however the saying goes. you’re not going to argue with a good thing.
it takes him longer than usual to bottom out, even with how wet you are, because he hasn’t made you cum beforehand like he usually does. the stretch has pain and pleasure bleeding together, neither more powerful than the other. the sensations are heightened by your lack of sight and ability to use your hands. it’s all a little overwhelming but it feels way too fucking good to even think about stopping.
“color, baby?”
“green,” you gasp. “i’m green. just give me an extra second.”
“of course. take all the time you need.”
mingyu cradles you as you wait it out together, taking deep breaths to steel himself every time your cunt spasms around him unintentionally.
you’re not sure how much time passes before he shifts up onto his elbows, mumbling something to himself. “here, let me…” he trails off and you don’t totally get what he means until you feel his thumb circling your clit.
the pressure is feather light, just enough to have you getting even wetter so that the glide is easier and feels good for both of you.
“fuck, gyu,” you moan, arching your back until your chest is pressed to his. “move now, please.”
“already lost the ability to form full sentences, pretty baby?”
“your fault,” you choke out, “big stupid dick.”
he laughs at that and threads his fingers through yours, giving you something to squeeze, something to anchor yourself to.
“we should do this more often,” mingyu says as he starts to rock his hips into yours.
“what, tie me up?” you ask.
“no, celebrate my birthday.”
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Comforting Akutagawa during a mental breakdown
A/N: Hello to everyone reading this! I’m back at it again with Bungo Stray Dogs, more particularly the Port Mafia. In this story, the reader (F) is giving comfort and affection to her emotionally damaged boyfriend Akutagawa, after an unfortunate encounter with his old mentor figure (aku was my first love in bsd). Thank you so much for reading and interacting with my posts, it means so much to me! Stay healthy, eat well and drink plenty of water! - Sam
Tags: Bungo Stray Dogs, Akutagawa Ryunosuke, angst, reverse comfort, SFW
Warnings: mental breakdown, emotional and physical abuse, NSSI
Word Count: approx. 4.8k
It was one of these nights again; these difficult, heart-wrenching nights that constantly made you question the meaning of such a life, a life filled with pain and suffering. You’ve become a little too familiar with this feeling since you’ve experienced, well… a little too many nights like these.
“Remember what you’re doing all this for!” you exclaimed.
Except there was nobody there to listen, save for the librarian that was sick of having you be the last one to leave the library in the dark hours of the early morning for the fifth time this week. Talking to the void, maybe all that studying did drive you insane after all.
“You scared the life out of me, for the love of god!”, the lady gasped, jumping awake from the information desk. Poor her, she probably hated these nights even more than you did.
“I’m terribly sorry”, you said, chuckling in awful embarrassment.
She gave you a cold stare, which truthfully saddened you deep down, because you were under the false impression that you had bonded with the woman by now.
“Don’t look at me like that ma’am”, you said, “You know med school isn’t a piece of cake…”
“I know dear”, she responded with a certain sweetness in her voice and a tired sigh, “but isn’t it time to go home soon?”
You looked at the clock above the information desk. It read 2:45. A look of desperation channeled itself on your face as you were thinking about just how much more work you had ahead of you before you could allow yourself to go home and finally get some shuteye.
“Just one more unit, I promise!” you lied, knowing damn well that it was much, much more than that.
“Pfftt….Like we haven’t heard that before…” the librarian mumbled as she began moving around all sorts of books and paper sheets around the information desk.
Of all the times during the day she could get that taken care of, she had to do it right now? The noise she made was getting on your nerves and messed with your focus. However, you knew she was going to kick you out for sure if you dared complain about it. So you just decided to let it go, for your own good perhaps…
Resting your head which had grown quite heavy and dizzy on top of the open books, you sighed in exhaustion, waiting for the woman to stop messing with the papers and your concentration along with them. Wondering how the hell you were supposed to pass all these exams the following week, you were just sitting there, beating yourself up for always leaving things for the last possible moment. But not even a minute later, your phone, which was laying on the table, suddenly buzzed and stopped your overthinking.
It was a voice message from your boyfriend, a little smile subtly forming on your face upon seeing the notification. You’ve been together for almost a year, but the habit of smiling at his texts hasn't faded away whatsoever.
“Ma’am, can I pleeaase use my phone?”, you joked, since there was obviously nobody there to be disturbed by mobile phone usage… except for the poor lady of course. “It’s my sweetheart!”
A few moments of deadly silence followed. From the look on her face, you’d think she was finally done with your smart-ass idiocy.
“Eh, to hell with it…” she responded, having accepted — to your grand surprise — that she’d have you here for quite a while once again.
“God bless your patience! I shall treat you to a huge meal once these detestable exams are over!”, you proclaimed in comedic exaggeration, yet genuinely wanting to express your gratitude to her in some sort of way. With your late-night hypertension and your endearingly annoying sense of humor, you could imagine that having you study here all these days must have been quite a handful.
“Who said I wanted to have a meal with you?”, she shrugged and rolled her eyes.
Purposefully ignoring her rhetorical question with a smile on your face, you opened the message and placed your phone next to your head with the speaker facing your ear, the woman sighing at your shenanigan in the background.
“Hey, Y/N…”
You didn’t expect to hear Gin’s voice.
“Listen… I found my brother’s phone in a dark alley on the ground, and it’s all cracked up now, and I’m not quite sure what happened... He was still supposed to be here, but I assume there was some big trouble and he had to flee. Problem is— TACHIHARA CAN YOU JUST SHUT THE F— sorry about that… problem is I contacted our headquarters and he’s not there”
Your eyes opened wide as the message kept on playing. Two opposing forces fighting in your brain; one worrying that something terrible has happened to him, the other trying to remain cool-headed since you didn’t know any crucial details about the situation.
“My guess would be that he’s at your place. I know you have a lot of work to do in the library, but please check if everything’s okay with him. Gotta go, the Armed Detective Agency is just around the corner”
You heard the words “Armed Detective Agency” and you instantly knew what this was about.
“Oh fuck” you said out loud and stood up from your desk as if struck by some invisible thunder.
“What is it this time?”, the librarian desperately asked.
“It’s your lucky day”, you replied, packing up your bag in quick, messy movements, “I’ve got to go right now”
“Good grace”, she mumbled as she started switching off the lights to finally close the place down for the night.
“Thanks for everything!”, you shouted hurriedly, storming out of the university library and rushing to the parking lot.
You jumped in your car and immediately started the engine. You already knew by now that no encounter with the Agency could possibly be any good for Akutagawa. And this time, you had a strong feeling that something was very, very wrong.
In less than half the time it would usually take, you sloppily drove back to your apartment, very lucky that you hadn’t crushed the car onto anything on the way there. Running with light steps and pushing through your own fatigue, you finally reached the door and knocked on it.
“Sweetie?”, you called out softly.
There was complete silence on the other side, a type of silence that grew an unshakeable fear within you. After taking a deep breath, you reached for the keys in the pocket of your jacket and slowly opened the door.
You took a good look at the living room before entering, and everything was exactly the way you left it, including the little lamp you always kept switched on even when nobody was home. From where you were standing, nothing seemed wrong with the kitchen either. At first glance it all looked perfectly normal, but there was something very intuitively suspicious about this quietness that consumed the entire place.
Due to your intensive studying at the library the past few days, you ended up coming home at times like these almost every day, and you found the emptiness to be serene, and even comforting in its own way. But now it was frantically maddening, as if you’d be crazy to assume someone else was here, but equally as insane to think that you were totally alone.
You gulped as you took a few steps in and closed the door behind you, cold shivers running down your body. Only while taking off your own shoes did you look down to check if his were there, and much to your relief, they were just beside the door. You immediately felt a weight fall off your shoulders, knowing now that nobody had broken in or that you weren’t… imagining things.
You quietly made your way right in front of the shut door of your bedroom, and since you already passed by the empty bathroom, you knew that was the only place where he could possibly be. Just by standing there you felt a dark chilly aura strike you down to the bone.
Knowing about his occupation and even his abusive past, you were already aware that Akutagawa was very much capable of becoming violent. But this wasn’t the first time he went through a crisis like this with you, so you had faith that if you stood there for him once again, it would all work out, just like the previous times.
You plucked up all the courage you had inside you and knocked on the door.
“Sweetie?”, you repeated. “Are you alright?”
Once again, no answer. At this point you started getting worried. That was the only place he could be, right? Then why was he not responding?
Making the tiniest amount of sound possible, you pushed the door open ever so slightly to peek through the crack, and that’s when you saw something you’ve never witnessed before.
Although the light switch was on, the room was pitch black with only a few strands of light somehow making their way through. Sinister branches of darkness were spread all over, some intertwined with one another in an infernal veil, and others ruthlessly piercing the entirety of the space like enormous, sharp blades.
You were completely astounded. You had no idea that Rashoumon could take on such a petrifying form.
Before you could even begin to grasp the density and the complexity of what your eyes just viewed, the door was somehow explosively shut inches away from your face, causing you to gasp at the thunderous noise.
“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT THE DOOR?”, Akutagawa yelled, his strung out voice echoing within his ability’s construction.
“I’m sorry sweetie”, you responded peacefully, “I just wanted to check if you’re okay…”
“What does this look like to you?” he asked sarcastically, while Rashoumon locked the door from the inside, eliminating any possibility that he’d just let you in that easily.
“What I meant is, are you physically okay? Did you get hurt?”, you asked, trying to maintain your calm composure.
“I’m intact”, he answered as if even such a small question was so immensely bothersome to him at that moment, “now LEAVE. ME. ALONE!”
“How am I supposed to leave you alone in a state like this?”
He didn’t respond, but it’s not like you expected him to. Hurt and afraid, he always hid inside his hard shell at times like this, and it took a lot of strength and effort to get him to open up to you. You took a big breath, because the difficult part was just starting.
“Your sister found your phone somewhere in the city and contacted me…”, you began.
“I don’t wanna talk about this…” he growled as rage kept building up within him.
“I know it’s difficult to talk right no—“
“THEN CUT IT OUT”, he screamed with a trembling voice and paused for a second, “before I break the door…”
“You don’t have to talk about it right now, but please just listen”.
You paused for a while to see what his reaction would be. Although he was once again mute, you were quite happy that you didn’t get smashed by the door; it meant he was waiting for you to speak.
“I know you’re not feeling well right now, and I just want to let you know that it’s totally okay to feel this way, even though I don’t know what exactly happened… I just wanted to tell you…”.
Another silence-filled pause ensured you that he was still listening.
“You did the right thing to come here, sweetie… The fact that you’re here right now means that even if you want me to leave you alone this instant, some part of you wants to find comfort here… And that’s exactly what I want to do for you right now. I just want to make it better, I promise. Please, Aku…Let me help you…”
No response.
“I’ll be waiting right behind the door for as long as you need. Please don’t break me along with it, or better yet, let me in whenever you feel like…”
It wasn’t much later that you heard the door finally unlock behind you, so you stood up, carefully opened it, and saw that your previously unimaginably ominous room was now just the way you remembered it.
Akutagawa was sitting on the floor in the corner across the room, curled up so he could take up as little space as possible. He had wrapped his arms around his knees and held them closely against his chest. His cloak was thrown over his shoulders, covering most of his upper body and his head was buried on his forearms.
You quietly approached him and sat next to him to keep him at ease. All these months in a relationship with him taught you that at times like these, he felt threatened by people sitting right opposite him, and didn't respond to them so well. He also deeply despised being looked at when he’s in such a vulnerable state, so you respected his wishes and looked at the floor, avoiding his eyes at all costs.
“Take your time, sweetie. I’m here to listen”, you said after a minute or two.
He took a big breath before lifting his head up, while you made sure to make him feel as comfortable as you could, based on his own individual terms.
“The Command Unit was sent to the center of Yokohama to investigate some strange movements in the black market… and there, I ran into that stupid weretiger...”
“Mhm hm”, you nodded as you kept listening carefully.
“We started a fight and I had cornered him in this alley… that was all until he showed up…”
“Dazai?”, you asked, just to make sure your assumptions were correct.
“Yes…” , he answered as his voice got weaker. “He nullified my ability and told the weretiger to leave, so it was just the two of us…”
You noticed it was getting harder and harder for him to speak as the conversation shifted towards Dazai. It was no surprise since he’d talked to you about him before but it was, nonetheless, upsetting to hear.
“No…”, you said, “and what did he do?”
“Well, he…”, Akutagawa said and then paused as if to collect himself, “he kicked me right below the chest and I was on the ground coughing…”
He took a breath, before proceeding to give you the rest of the story.
“And he said some things… something about the weretiger being better than me… but I’ve heard that before…”
“Aw sweetie—“
“He knows…”, he said, burying his head on his knees once again. “He found out about my disease somehow…”
When you heard him quietly weep, you moved a little closer to him, just enough so that he didn’t feel alone in this difficult, doleful moment. Before you could even begin to ask how Dazai managed to find that out, Akutagawa jumped into your arms and buried his head on your shoulder, letting his black cloak fall off his frail body.
As he did that, you didn’t fail to notice that his white shirt had bloody stains on each sleeve, a little bit above the length of the elbow. Both sides had five holes each, one for each of his own fingers that had been digging into his skin, scratching and ripping it apart.
You were so upset, but you realized that it would be no good to address it right now. So instead, you wrapped him up in the warm embrace that he desperately needed at the time.
“That lung disease you have is going to kill you soon… Maybe then, I’ll consider coming back to the Port Mafia… Such a shame that… even when you leave your last pathetic breath… there won’t have been a single moment… when you were better than my new apprentice…”
“That’s what he said to me…”, he uttered, sobbing in between these nasty, horrible phrases.
Your eyes started watering as you squeezed him tighter against you. It was beyond you how anybody could be so viciously cruel to someone so loyal and devoted, even if fate brought it so that they parted ways.
“That’s so hurtful…”, you whispered as tears were running down your cheeks. “It’s okay… Let it all out, I’m right here…”
“Why? Just why?!”, he cried in anguish, “How much more must I do? When will all this be over? When will I ever be enough?!”
You didn’t know how to respond to such questions at times like these, so you just let him lash out until he hopefully calmed down eventually.
“What am I saying? That’s never gonna happen…”, he lamented as his body started shivering, “I’m so sorry, Y/N… I’m a worthless and pathetic fool…”
“That’s not true…please stop saying things like that…”, you pleaded.
“I’m just gonna die so pointlessly… And it won’t even matter to him…”
“Well it’s gonna matter to me!”, you raised the tone of your voice, verklempt and teary-eyed.
His chest kept pumping against yours as he was struggling for breath.
“I’m so sorry my love…”, you apologized, fearing that all you just did was worsen his situation by letting your own emotions take over. He tried to say something, but in this state, coherent words couldn’t come out of his mouth.
You had to stay strong and help him during this difficult time. Right now, the situation wasn't about you.
“Listen to me, let’s take some deep breaths okay? Breathe in till four, hold till four, and breathe out till six. Can you do that for me?”
You felt him nodding yes, lifting his head up and letting his chin rest on your shoulder.
“Perfect, I’ll count: 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…”
Akutagawa tried to follow your count as much as he could. You had to do this exercise about fifteen times before his breathing took its normal pace back. Your hand was always gently caressing the back of his head, and with every round you completed, you made sure that he knew he was doing a good job.
“I’m so proud of you”, you murmured and kissed his temple, “are you feeling any better now?”.
He nodded yes and sniffed his nose.
“Can I look at you?”, you asked.
He sighed, then nodded yes once again. Once he let go, you gently cupped his face and lifted his head up so you could look at him. His poor, restless eyes were ever so red and puffy from all the tears he’d been shedding.
“My sweet Aku…”, you whispered, “if only there was something I could do to take your suffering away… I can only imagine how terrible it feels to be treated so horribly by someone you look up to so much, to always feel like you’re the second option…”
You paused to take a big breath and collect yourself.
“And I know it’s not the same to hear it from me… but you’re always going to be my first choice… always…”
A sad, bitter smile morphed into your boyfriend’s face upon hearing these words, as if they were half-empty, not coming from a certain someone he’d want to hear them from instead.
“I’ll always be here for you… You’re my everything, my love… I love you more than anyone and anything in this world… And seeing you suffer like this… it crushes me…”
Akutagawa sat there in silence, guiltful and grey, shifting his gaze to the cold, hard floor.
“Especially this…” you said with a cracking voice, and looked at the red stains on his sleeves, “this just… it breaks my heart…”
His withering eyes were filling up with tears again.
“Promise me you won’t do it again…please…”, you begged.
“I promise…I’m so sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry sweetie, none of this makes you weak in my eyes…. You’re so strong… so much more than you think…”
You looked at him sweetly before pulling him closer to give him a soft kiss on the mouth, his lips passive, almost motionless against yours.
“Now go have a warm shower, you need to relax”, you said, getting up from the floor and offering him a helping hand to stand up as well. “Make sure that a lot of water runs over your wounds. I’ll take care of them once you’re done, okay?”
“Okay”, he answered, giving you his hand, letting you pull him up and still hold him all the way to the bathroom.
“Thank you so much, Y/N… really…”
“Don’t mention it”, you responded lovingly.
As he shut the door behind him, you immediately got this morbid feeling, this insurmountable urge to break down and cry.
You loved him with all your heart, but in comparison to even the tiniest praise from Dazai, your love for Akutagawa didn’t matter nearly as much to him. And that thought pained you so much, it cut deeper than a knife… In a way, you could even say you understood him, knowing that your one and only was gonna leave you soon, and that you’ll always come second, till the last moment… till his last moment, his very last breath…
It was all so devastating… But as you pushed the tears back, you remembered the promise that you made to yourself when you first got into a relationship with him; no matter how hard things got, you were gonna love this person as much as you could, for as long as you could… Until the very end, you had to be his pillar of strength and continue cherishing him no matter how much it hurt you in the process.
And you loved him so much, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Hey Gin”, you spoke to your phone as you recorded a voice message for her, “I found him, he was at my place. He’s okay, he has a few surface wounds on his arms, most probably nothing to worry about. You can let your boss and the others know that he’s safe and that he’ll stay here for the next couple of hours… And, by the way, thank you for contacting me as soon as you found his phone….Things might’ve been worse, had it not been for you… Call me if you need anything”
As you hit “send”, Akutagawa walked out of the bathroom, wearing an oversized white t-shirt and plaid black and white pajama bottoms, with the towel he used to dry his hair thrown around his neck.
“Feeling more comfortable now?” you asked.
“Yeah”, he responded.
“Good. Now come here, let me see your arms…”
He made his way next to you, letting you investigate his wounds.
“Hmm…”, you said, lost in thought, “they’re not as deep, so you’re not gonna need any stitches… but they do look a bit inflamed… we definitely need to disinfect these”
You took him by the hand back in the bathroom again, where you kept your medical kit. You grabbed the disinfectant bottle and lathered some liquid over a big piece of sterile cotton.
“I gotta warn you sweetie, this might burn a little…”
“Yeah, like I haven’t had worse– OWW!!”, he exclaimed as you pressed it against his wounds.
“I’m sorry, perhaps I wouldn’t have to do this if you hadn’t used your own hands. You were out fighting, who knows how many germs they had…”
“It burns…”, he hissed, clenching his jaw.
“Warned you…”, you responded. “You’ve never used disinfectant before?”
“Do you really think people in the mafia care to use this sh– AUGHH!”, he snarled once again as you repeated the same treatment to his other arm.
“We’re almost done now…” you reassured him as he gave you the most displeased, irritated stare.
“Hmm let’s see…” you mumbled to yourself while searching the contents of your kit, “I don’t have big enough band-aids for this… guess we’ll have to cover them with something else…”
You opened up two bandages, and with a little hesitation, Akutagawa let you wrap them around his arms tightly.
“All patched up!” you said, giving his boney shoulders a light squeeze, “Is there anything I can make for you? Anything to eat? Some tea maybe?”
“No, I think I’m gonna throw up if I do…”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that… Okay then, I think we should go to bed and get some rest, no?”
“Yeah…”
After you changed into your pajamas and brushed your teeth, you made your way into the fluffy futon and scooched over for Akutagawa to join you shortly after. While he is generally the quiet type, this time you could tell that he was way too tired even for the short-lived, yet endearing small talk before bed.
“My eyes hurt…” Akutagawa murmured as he slid next to you.
“I know, sweetie…Come here…”, you said, lifting up the cover and inviting him close to you.
Your boyfriend found his way into your arms again, his tired head buried in your chest and his thinned body clinging onto yours, the entirety of his being searching for warmth within your embrace. The comforting motions of your hands caressing his back and the sound of your heartbeat was everything he could ask for at the time.
“Feels like you’ve lost more weight…”, you pointed out as you grazed your fingers over the prominent parts of his skeleton, “Have you been eating well lately?”
“Mm-mm”, he shook his head no after a short pause, as if to adjust his thinking to your own standards of self-preservation. To him, if he made it out alive at the end, what was there to care for?
“Well that’s no good…I’m making you fluffy pancakes and your favorite tea in the morning”, you said knowing that, being starved of affection almost his entire life, he found these simple acts of kindness to be a huge deal. His contentment was clear as day, flowing through you as he pulled himself closer, practically sealing shut whatever space there was between the two of you.
“Thank you…”, he purred against your chest, the mere sweetness of his adorable reaction leading you to plant gentle kisses on the top of his head.
“Anything for you sweetie… I just want you to take care of yourself. Undereating can’t do any good to your condition… And I want to keep you around as much as possible, make as many happy memories together as we can…Like that time when you took me to dinner with the mafia for the first time and Higuchi kept warning me not to hurt your feelings or ‘I’ll be dead’...”
“Tsk, that piss-off…” he mumbled in a mix of displeasure and nostalgia, getting annoyed just by remembering the event, but being strangely happy that he got to experience it with you.
“It made me very happy that you apologized to her…”
“After you told me I was acting just like him, I had no choice…”
“And I’m so proud of you for that, sweetie…” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair
“I still remember when we had Gin and Chuuya over for my birthday and we played that drinking game he had suggested. I’m pretty sure at some point he stopped caring about the rules and started losing on purpose…Ah, what an iconic day…Oh, and that day when I first told you that I loved you…Hahah, you were so awkward whenever I told you that on the phone. It took you a couple of weeks before you were brave enough to say it back to me... But it’s okay, I’m not blaming you, it’s most wise to wait for the time when you are a hundred percent sure that you feel the same way for me… Hey, what about the day of our first date–”
You’d been talking for quite a while now, vocally walking down memory lane, too absent-minded to notice that Akutagawa was fast asleep by then. Your melancholic monologue got softly interrupted by his faint, quiet snores.
“Aww of course. I almost forgot how easily you fall asleep whenever I start rambling like this…”
You slid your hands under his shirt and felt the soft skin on his back. His hold on you was more relaxed, but far from apathetic, as if what remained of his slowly melting tension was love, and only love.
You smiled, feeling infinitely blessed that your boyfriend was there with you, that you were listening to his slow breathing as he was drifting somewhere far away. Your eyelids had been feeling heavy for a while, but before you joined him, you wanted to get some things off your chest; somethings you truly wanted Akutagawa to know, even though you knew that he wouldn’t hear much of it in his sleep.
“Aku, my sweetheart… You are worth so much more than you think. You are enough— no, you’re even more than that… And I wish I had the means to show you just how much you mean to me… Oh, if only I could make you feel even half of my love…”
A/N: Akutagawa cried again in the middle of the night, but didn’t want to bother Y/N with his feelings any further. He removed the bandages because anything that reminded him of Dazai, he couldn’t have on his body. After Y/N found out, she apologised for her ignorance and made him the most delicious fluffy pancakes.
#angst#angst with a happy ending#bsd angst#akutagawa angst#anime#anime community#anime writing blog#akutagawa#akutagawa ryunosuke#dazai#dazai osamu#akutagawa x reader#reverse comfort#bungo stray dogs#bsd#sfw#bsd x reader#bsd x reader angst#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd x you#bsd x reader fluff
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Embers of Affection - Anakin Skywalker x Jedi! Reader | Chapter 1
Summary: Both you and Anakin have been fighting the battles next to each other for years. He breaks your heart in a moment of rage and you decide to pull away from him. The Jedi tries insistently to apologize, realizing he had built up feelings for you.
Warning: None, mentions of fighting, cursing, angst
Word count: 2.2k
Your partnership with Anakin Skywalker on the battlefield was rooted in a deep and enduring friendship that had developed over many years. Your connection was not merely professional; it was a bond forged through shared experiences, trust, and a profound understanding of each other's strengths and weaknesses.
The Jedi became your Master and, alongside him, the two of you created a different relationship, as you both always had a mutual connection. Fighting side by side, you and the blonde managed to take down enemies, in addition to strengthening the Jedi Order, which pleased the Council.
Recently, Anakin has seemed to feel like he hasn't been in the same orbit as you. Married to Padmé, at various times he felt frustrated about maintaining a romantic relationship with a member of politics. His idea, however, was not to let the Senate intervene in his marriage, but it was apparent how much he was bothered by the opinions of third parties.
He had been changing relatively little by little, he felt more moody, irritated and out of patience. When you were together, he was able to control his temper to a limited extent, because he always put an obstacle in the way of reversing the situation.
You, with your back pressed against his, fought against the Republic on your own planet. The only advantage of that was that, in the worst case scenario, you were already home. The two of you quickly moved your lightsabers against your rivals, while using your blasters against the more armed attackers.
Until then, you couldn't understand much of what he was muttering, but he seemed to be building up anger, which showed in the way his shoulders seemed to stiffen his body. The way Anakin fired at them and used more force than usual seemed to say he needed to breathe.
Anakin, renowned for his impulsive nature, began to feel the pressure mounting. He had always been driven by a relentless desire for victory, and the frustration of the situation was getting to him. As the blaster bolts intensified, Anakin couldn't contain his emotions any longer.
"(Y/N), are you even trying? It looks like you're doing a nonsense job out here!" Anakin starts yelling above the noise of the battle.
Deeply committed to your role as a Jedi and hurt by Anakin's harsh words, you were momentarily stunned. You had always strived to do your job and be a valuable member of the team. The accusation from your partner was unexpected and stung like a blaster bolt.
"Anakin, I'm doing my best! We're overwhelmed here! We need to focus and work together!" You hear your voice almost breaking.
Anakin, fueled by frustration and his obstinated desire for victory, continued to lash out, seemingly heedless of the gravity of your situation.
"Your best isn't good enough right now! We can't afford mistakes!" he retorted. The way his words were thrown made you cringe.
Your resolve was shaken but your determination was unwavering as refocused your efforts on the battle, deflecting blaster bolts with a renewed intensity. You knew that your lives and the mission depended on your unity and cooperation as Jedi.
When you were still an apprentice, every time he taught you that a Jedi would never abandon their partner during war. He never left you alone even when he needed to face more dangerous things to defend you. There, seeing you walk away, he growled in anger at himself.
He was never a toxic friend, he never mistreated you, although he was often angry and annoyed when things didn't work out. He never stopped supporting you.
But you've noticed that, even though you're close, he's been moving further and further away, and every time he seems a little distant. The anger and uncertainty that things were going right for him were consuming him.
Yoda had spoken before, but you didn't want to think about the possibility that Anakin was beginning to let himself go to the dark side because he was consumed by anger and fear. God, you would do anything to take him out of this suffering.
At the end of the battle, you followed with the others to return home. You didn't expect to feel Anakin's presence close to you, with a calmer appearance, but extremely tired and sweaty. He removed the heavy armor from his shoulders as he looked at you.
"I'm sorry, (Y/N)! I know I need to improve this, but I can't control it. I don't want to hurt you, I would never do such a thing". Anakin tried to get closer, but you made it clear that you didn't want to talk to him at that moment.
"If you're not satisfied with our work, Anakin, I think it's not by being an asshole that you'll improve the situation. This isn't the first time you've rebelled and I can't continue to put up with your attitudes!". You kept your serious gaze on him, and he tried to get closer.
In a more extensive exchange of glances, the Jedi read your face and discovered that you were more hurt by him than by any wound. He felt that you couldn't measure the pain for hearing such harsh words spoken to you, even after the years you spent together.
"Look for me only when you stop being a dick, I'm done" you didn't want to have to walk away from him like that. It was difficult having to stay so far away from him because of his completely radical attitude because he doesn't know how to deal with his own problems.
You were there the whole time, you offered as much help as you could. He denied it, he withdrew and he didn't realize how important it was for him to follow this path, but he preferred to accommodate himself with his own situation.
When he tried to call your name and get closer, you weren't ready to lower your guard just yet. You continued to use the Force to manipulate the battlefield debris, keeping Anakin at a distance. It was painful to have to leave the battlefield alone, without the company of that man who was always by your side.
Inside the Jedi Council's accommodation, C-3PO accompanied you by your side, as you made your way to the meeting room, where you would report on the mission. It was impossible to avoid Anakin at the meetings, as he was always the one who liked to lead the missions. Before, it was a common thing that you enjoyed because the two of you were always together, but after a while you started to notice that the missions started to revolve around him.
It was always him, him, him. Something that wasn't supposed to be bad, but now, seeing it differently, it was impossible not to notice how much he was seeking power.
As soon as Master Windu sat down in the chair next to Anakin, he asked for the report. You didn't know if in all your anger you would give a hint to your partner, or if you would talk about the mission. But there, they respected women above all else, and you were the only one there.
"Ah- the Separatist droids were searching for heavy weapons hidden in one of our planet's ships. The groups were divided and each was given an order, which was clearly followed" you began. Everyone present was paying attention, but Skywalker had his head down, the look you felt receiving from him was almost imperceptible.
"In any case, I would like to resign from my position of supporting Master Anakin. As he said before, it has been clarified that I'm doing a nonsense job and that my best isn't enough". When mentioning his previous speech, Anakin lifted his head minimally. Surprise was written all over his face.
The council members let out a murmur of indignation. "Miss (Y/L/N), in no way do we believe you need to retrain as an apprentice. I'm sure what the Jedi Knight meant is that he's a complete idiot" Master Windu reinforced his gaze if reproach to him.
Anakin, eager to make amends, began speaking, his voice filled with sincerity. "(Y/N), I want to apologize again for what I said during the battle. I was frustrated, and my words were unjustifiable. I deeply regret my outburst."
Your expression still reflects the hurt from your previous encounter. You cautiously responded to his apology. "Anakin, I appreciate your apology, but words spoken in anger can leave lasting scars. I'm not sure if I can simply forgive and forget."
His determination was unwavering, and as he leaned forward, his eyes locked onto yours. "(Y/N), I understand how deeply I hurt you, and I'm truly sorry for that. But I don't want to lose you as my partner. We've been through so much together, and I value our teamwork more than anything. Please, don't resign from your position as my partner on the field."
Master Windu interjected, his wise presence commanding the room.
"(Y/N), Anakin's apology is sincere, and it is in our Jedi nature to forgive and strive for unity. But it is also essential to address the root of the issue and ensure that we have a plan moving forward. How can we work together more effectively in the future?" He asks.
You then took a moment to collect your thoughts, your gaze shifting between Anakin and Master Windu.
"I want to believe in the strength of our partnership, but trust needs to be rebuilt. Anakin, we need better communication and understanding on the battlefield" You explain.
You expected Windu to defend Anakin, or even tell him he was wrong in other words. But he never failed to demonstrate that certain things are not as they really appear to be.
At the end of the meeting, the Master dismissed all participants, except your best friend, who stayed behind. It was likely that he would receive a warning for treating you so poorly during a delicate moment.
C-3PO walked the same route as you, as he dropped you off at the door of your dorm. He was the Droid you most trusted and socialized with in that compartment. It was nice to have someone to help you.
Usually, it stayed nearby, checking for any sign of attack or ambush. What the Droid couldn't do, until that day, was manage not to be hacked by Anakin, who was slowly knocking on his door.
Feeling his presence, you were irritated by the way he could turn a simple thing (like feeling the force and presence of other Jedi) into something completely unnecessary.
"I don't want to talk to you today. And I would like you to stop hacking C-3PO" You grumble quietly as soon as you open the door.
The man in front of you was wearing a simple white t-shirt and sweatpants. You couldn't even think much about his physique, because he was your best friend and he was also married.
Looking down, he held one hand on the doorframe. "I want you to consider forgiving me. For the sake of our friendship. For everything we've been through together. I need you and you know that."
“Huh” you quipped. "For the sake of our friendship? And you didn't even think about not belittling me for the sake of our friendship?".
He was silent. He knew better, he knew that what he said was often on impulse.
"You need to stop being irrational and impulsive. We are dealing with a years-long friendship, not just any relationship." You used your index finger to point against his defined chest.
"I don't have the right to take my frustrations out on you, (Y/N). Please think of both of us" he asked lovingly. His heart didn't seem to be beating at the same pace.
If you forgave him, you would be letting him go back to the way he is. Anakin needed to take care of himself and control his feelings and moods before it was too late.
"I won't think about anything for now. You devalued me after years of being my Master. I worked very hard to become who I am and gained recognition from the Council". Your teary eyes left him astonished.
He should have thought a thousand times before saying anything. He still needed to think a lot before acting like an idiot.
"It's late and I want to sleep. Please fix C-3PO or I'll tell the Council that you use your hacking skills to take down the Droid".
You slammed the door shut in his face, but you managed to hear when Anakin mumbled against the room. It wasn't easy for you to need to distance yourself from him because of something he did.
He had come with the intention of making amends, of bridging the divide that had grown between them, but instead, he had been met with rejection. Anakin's frustration grew as he paced back and forth in the corridor, running his hand through his hair in agitation.
He knew he had made a mistake, and he was trying to make things right. But now, it seemed like you wanted nothing to do with him. As he stood outside your door, the weight of the situation settled heavily on his shoulders.
He realized that repairing your fractured relationship would be more challenging than he had anticipated. The frustration he felt was compounded by the uncertainty of whether he would ever be able to regain your trust and friendship.
#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin x reader#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker fanfic#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin fanfic#anakin fanfiction#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin imagine#star wars fanfic#hayden christensen imagine#anakin skywalker fluff#anakin fluff#anakin skywalker#userashe
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Genshin men's favorite part of your body;
┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓
✰ Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Ayato, Itto, Alhaitham, Dainsleif, Thoma.
✰ Words: 2,6k.
✰ N/SFW blurbs, fem!reader. MINORS, AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. Warnings below.
Warning: mentions of lingerie, public groping kinda, implied fucking in the bathroom, itto needs a leash, nipple sucking, reader touching themselves for a character, neck kisses, marking, cock kissing, thigh fucking, pussy eating and grinding, msg me to add more.
A/N: i tried to make it chrismas-y but failed and horny took over at the end. (fingerg/uns). mobile formatting has failed me.
┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛
Kaeya:
i think we all agree that he's an ass man. he'll stare at your ass with no shame whatsoever, even if he's caught. "that's a whole buffet right there, babe," he says, as he slaps your ass and giggles. speaking of, he always has to keep a hand on your ass if he's drinking in a bar - it just gently rests in the back pocket of your jeans. might actually cum a bucket if you reverse cow-girl him, and the said position gives him a bit of contemplation, whether he wants to rip your panties apart or leave them, hmm, it's the third one this week, but you won't mind, right? Kaeya is surely big on lingerie, and if you combine it with his obsession with ass - especially one that defines your cheeks - you might want to take a day off.. oh! also, he'll purposely drop ANYTHING to make you bend down.
the cavalry captain observes you as you hastily serve drinks in Angel's Share - you've promised Diluc to help during the Christmas party that the tavern runs every year. his sapphire eyes follow your figure right and left, as he finishes yet another shot of the holiday special - glaring at the drunkards that blatantly stare at your adorable, Santas-adorned skirt, which seemed way too short for this type of celebration. feeling his patience running out, he stands up from his seat and approaches you, wrapping his hands around your waist and bringing you closer. "oh my, who do we have here?" kaeya giggles, pushing one, lonely strand of hair behind your ear, "why must you tease me so much, snowflake? and during christmas, out of all holidays?" he pouts, the hand sliding from your waist to grab a handful of your plush ass roughly. feeling his breath closer and closer and his fingers slipping past your panties, a certain redhead attempts to de-escalate the situation, nudging his brother with an elbow and nodding his head - red eyes focused on the bathroom, "don't make too much noise."
Ayato:
this man is a LEG MAN and I do not accept anything else. His brain starts acting up as soon as you wear heels, show your legs or thighs in any way, just seeing how that thigh highs hug you so, so perfectly, he feels his cock twitch in his pants. Expect many secret leg touches under kotatsu or tables, to have you, his pretty wife all dolled up next to him during the important meetings, being the obedient little one and trying not to moan, as his hand plays a dangerous game near your core. Nothing works to make him pay attention to other parts of your body, say - you're wearing booty shorts? Oh, but would you look at how your legs seem way longer and more delicious? He's absolutely going to devour and worship your legs, even if you're wearing an innocent Santa costume with long, red dress. He's obsessed about buying you cute tights, thigh highs, especially on occasions like holidays - candy cane themed, raindeers, snowflakes - everything he lays his eyes on is going to your shared closet.
"Go ahead, love - try them on for me. Good, now sit on my lap," Ayato's eyes wander to your legs, eyeing them in their entirety, up from the thighs, all the way down to your ankles before you come closer, slowly riding up your crimson skirt, "We need to try them out, right?" His hand caresses your knee softly, the delicate material of the white tights decorated with gingerbread men feels too good against his palm, almost too good, but you can't miss his wide pupils and how his lower lip disappears between his teeth. not long after, you find yourself sprawled on the bed, your cunt clenching around his dick; ayato pounds into you while your legs are pressed to his chest and shoulders, kneading your breasts delicately.
Itto:
the one and oni could never fully decide - that's why he settled down with breasts and tummy. no matter what, if you wear a revealing t-shirt or dress, there is no way to prevent his eyes from shamelessly staring at your chest for at least solid 5 minutes. Itto never pressures you to wear something for him (that'd be a bit hypocritical lol), but if you decide to tease him - if your chest is on the bigger side and the oni notices the way your breasts are pressed together, it takes him (pinching hand emoji) this close to ripping the clothing off and start marking your tits with love bites. BUT! if you're on the smaller side - he absolutely doesn't mind! he actuallly encourages you to go braless! totally not because whenever he catches a glimpse of your hardened nipples, he's immediately about to start sucking on them, regardless if he's in public or not.. his fixation on your nipples might one day get him in trouble.
as you adjust the tinsel above the crackling fireplace, you feel large hands envelop your stomach - someone familiar approaches you from behind, "that's a nice sweater you have, lil bug," itto's massive palms rub your tummy gently, only to swiftly go under the warm, green knitwear with a snowman and graze your bare skin with his claws, "but there's somethin' about it," he bends down and latches his lips on your neck, sucking bruises and soothing them with his tongue. his hands make his way up to your bra, cutting the material in half with his sharp, inky nail, "it's in the goddamn way."
Xiao:
the yaksha has taken a strong liking to your hands, preferably bare, hungry for skin-to-skin contact after so many years of facing loneliness. though, each time his golden eyes follow your hand movements, even innocent ones - sinful thoughts begin to flood his mind - how your pretty hands stroke his cock each time you get intimate, the way your hands get lost in his hair when your tongues dance together. xiao's breath hitches in his throat as he watches your palm slide down his chest to get under his tight shirt, only to slide back up and tease his hard pe-- he shakes his head and sighs in defeat, clutching the jade spear. either way, there's no doubt xiao will become putty in your grasp as soon as you brush your thumb over his lower lip.
liyue has finally welcomed winter - the snow has fallen, along with the temperature. the frost clings tightly to the window, but xiao - he finds himself getting hotter and hotter with every minute that passes. he swallows harshly, observing you naked before him, lying on the bed with your legs spread - you tease him by gliding your hand over your breasts. xiao grips the sheets tightly as soon as you pinch one of your nipples and moan his name; his eyes immediately fall onto your wet pussy, malachite brows furrowing at the sight of your glistening folds. he watches as your hands roam around your body sensually touching yourself, the fairy lights reflecting various colors in your eyes... he's patient, but seeing you play lazily with your clit, smearing your juices all over your slit and finally, finally inserting them inside you seems like he cannot wait any longer.
Diluc:
he's truly addicted to your neck and will not deny it. i don't just mean only intimate sessions, no - he's so crazy about it, that to him neck kisses are the equivalent of cheek kisses. when you greet him, you don't turn your cheek to him, you tilt your head to the side only to feel his warm lips on your neck and vermilion hair tickling your shoulder. if diluc doesn't make new love bites, he absolutely presses gentle, wet kisses onto the already-existing ones, letting out quiet whimpers from time to time. he waits (im)patiently for them to heal, only to feel his mouth water at the sight of your now clean neck, staring at it for a bit too long and replaying the previous sessions of marking you in his mind. diluc goes overboard sometimes - and the only way to physically stop him from locking his lips on your neck is to wear turtlenecks.
the glass squeaks slightly as you carefully polish it with a cloth - it's currently rush hour at Angel's Share - the Christmas special sold out almost immediately, and the tavern is filled with loud laughs, chatter, and occasional yelling. you see Kaeya leaving his seat with a prominent blush and a slight scowl on his face, walking towards the new staff member. you shrug it off, picking up his empty shot glass to begin cleaning it, but the sudden hug from behind and the weight on your shoulder stop you. "it's cold today, isn't it?" diluc smirks and nuzzles into your neck - or rather the material that covers it - one of his hands travel to tug it down, to give him the access to the forbidden fruit he's been dying to bite since you arrived. his lips pepper small kisses on your hickeys, almost apologetically; you feel him push himself on you more, locking you between him and the counter. diluc's tongue traces the bruises he's made a few days prior, leaving a wet track of saliva and trying badly not to let out the moan he's been holding. "diluc," you say his name silently, earning only a hum from him, "your brother is about to have sex on that table."
Alhaitham:
he was the only one to genuinely and quite nonchalantly admit that your lips are his favorite, and then went back to casually reading his book. it makes sense now - all the subtle glances at your lips whenever you are near him, always kissing away the tiny bits of food stuck on them, noticing your new lip glosses or lipsticks. alhaitham is a private person - therefore, he only gives a few kisses in public, but at home - he loves making out with you as much as possible; he can't wait to feel your lips after spending a whole day at the akademiya. he can't wait to brush his thumb over your lips, to gently work his mouth over yours, to cradle your face and lick your lower lip and silently ask for permission to deepen the kiss. it doesn't matter if you're just doing the laundry or cooking - he WILL lick off that strawberry lip gloss you've bought. the scribe generally doesn't care much about where your lips are on his body - be it his neck, cheeks, or lips - his only weakness is seeing your pretty mouth near his cock.
it's hard to say what alhaitham likes more - your mouth sucking his cock, or straight up having it messily played with by your lips. he adores the way his stiff length disappears in your mouth, but also, he's trying his best not to cum while watching you kiss his cock. in fact, you don't have to suck him off to make him cum - the sheer view of you making out with his dick while whimpering against it might be just enough. he can't wait to return the favor - to smear your essence all over his lips and dive in for a kiss later. hopefully kaveh doesn't mind all that noises while decorating the chrismas tree.
Dainsleif:
oh my god. someone stop him before he passes out between your thighs. if dainsleif was about to die, that's the only acceptable place. but in a more serious tone, he ridiculously loves your thighs to the point that he cannot stop touching them when you're alone with him. though, he does like to keep his hand on your thigh if you're in public, perhaps in a tavern. he doesn't overstep but does like to tease you and rub his hand back and forth, slipping his hand toward your center occasionally, chuckling to himself after you seal his hand between the soft flesh of your legs. he could spend an eternity worshipping your thighs, in a way - he's very similar to diluc; ready to mark your thighs with his love bites, kiss them, lick them, bite the sweet skin lightly. dain religiously gives you oral on almost every occasion, hoping to feel your thighs squeeze his head tightly as you cum on his tongue.
if there's anything else that dain's mind goes blank almost immediately for - it's the thigh fucking. he feels his head spin as he fucks your thighs, using your cum as lube; you clench around nothing seeing his cock head peek and disappear as he thrusts into you. dainsleif tries to keep his composure, but his face betrays him: the furrowed brows, full-blown out pupils, his teeth gritting, hissing at the pleasure, desperately trying to enjoy the supple skin longer. little does he know, he's about to paint your thighs white.
Zhongli:
although it didn't seem as strange before, the geo archon has bought you many rings. his face always lights up and he extends his arm to gently caress the new rings with his thumb, before bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on top of it, and then each finger. after countless innocent suggestions to stop wearing gloves, having his hand on top of yours and having him absentmindedly playing with your fingers - you've guessed right, zhongli does indeed like your fingers the most. he smiles sweetly as he compliments your new nail polish - but behind that smile, deep down, his brain imagines those pretty fingers trying to grip his fat dick and not being able to connect with each other due to his size. he can't wait to suck them and see your pussy flutter as you fuck yourself with his spit on your fingers.
he wouldn't have ever guessed that this is what truly makes gets him going; yet, Zhongli found himself playing with you like a toy. he has you sat on his lap with your back pressed to his chest; your entrance is soaked already, tiny beads of sweat on your naked body begin to appear. his immense geo-infused hand with gold veins envelops yours, and he can't help but adore the purity of your own. he slides both of your hands together past your breasts, stopping at your tummy to turn your head slightly and kiss you with his split tongue; he swallows your moan as he guides the hands again onto your slit, rubbing it affectionately. you intertwine your other hand with Zhongli's unoccupied one and gasp, feeling his hand circle your clit with your own fingers, shortly before letting go and entering your hot cunt with his.
Bonus blurb~!
Thoma:
this poor thing sees your pussy and is instantly gone. everything about it makes him stop in his tracks when dirty thoughts appear - thinking how prettily your panties outline your pussy, being able to see your pussy lips hidden in your underwear when you bend down because ayato just dropped something by complete accident... thoma can't take his eyes off you as he enters you, watching your hole take him entirely, his mind racing and hoping to hear the squelching sounds from your soaking cunt. he has a habit of gently slapping your pussy with his hard cock, grinding between your pussy lips - but he asked nicely, so please let him! thoma also worships your pussy and hopes you don't mind him making out with your clit and your tight hole, desperately trying to swallow your juices so nothing goes to waste. he tries to get some friction and grinds against the mattress, his face flushed as he laps at your pussy, holding your thighs harshly and moaning against your opening like a bitch in heat, silently urging you to pull his hair and bring his face even closer.
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#kamisato ayato x reader#arataki itto x reader#xiao x reader#zhongli x reader#alhaitham x reader#diluc ragnivindr x reader#dainsleif x reader#kaeya alberich x reader#thoma x reader#kamisato ayato#arataki itto#xiao#zhongli#alhaitham#diluc ragnvindr#kaeya alberich#dainsleif#thoma#.blurb#oops#ayato kamisato x reader
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Dramamine—Part 3
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo
Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit's Foot starts hosting an open mic night.
CW: oral sex (m receiving), angst, self-doubt, hints at past trauma
*Content warnings will be updated by chapter*
Word Count: 2.2K
Taglist: @concretenoah / @ladyveronikawrites / @circle-with-me / @darksigns-exe / @xxrainstorm / @monotoniscreaming / @agravemisstake / @iknownothingpeople / @cookiesupplier
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future fics!
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed this so far 🤍 I'm still working on a posting schedule for updates and I appreciate (mostly) everyone's patience.
dividers by @cafekitsune 💐
His mind keeps dragging him back to it.
When he pulled up outside Noah’s apartment—much further out of his way than he would normally go for a stranger, but close enough that he could justify it—Noah had snatched Nick’s phone like it belonged to him. When Noah held the face ID up and it unlocked, it felt a little bit like being held hostage. He will never admit aloud that he liked the bravery of it, the unabashed way in which he forced himself into Nick’s car and his life.
Noah typed away on the phone momentarily before slipping it back into the cupholder. When he looked up and they met eyes, Noah’s smile was dazzling. Nick couldn’t put a finger on why he didn’t feel annoyed, instead finding himself laughing and smiling back.
“See you around, Nick.” Noah had said, slipping out of the car and nearly skipping up the stairs. He tripped a little and Nick’s heart clenched.
He pulled his phone out once Noah had gone inside, still open to a text. The message read Nick’s name with a pink heart emoji, and he found himself overwhelmed by the butterflies gathering and fluttering in his tummy. His cheeks were hurting from how wide he was smiling and he didn’t recognize the new happy version of himself.
He didn’t want to let himself get used to it, but it felt nice. He found himself typing out a text.
Goodnight, Noah.
He sat outside the building much longer than necessary. He was sure that he could have stayed there for hours, until his phone lit up with a text that made his cheeks heat.
Sweet dreams, Nicky.
Nick finds Noah’s name on the list this time—he bites back a smile as he sets the list back down on the bar and busies himself with stacking glasses. Folio gives him a pointed look.
“Isn’t that my job?” Folio asks.
“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Thanks for the help’, Folio.”
“Thank you so much for all your help, Nick,” Folio says in a mocking tone. Nick can’t help but grin, even as he’s rolling his eyes.
When Folio comes back minutes later with a dish of mint, Nick no longer has it in him to be annoyed, because he hears the familiar sound of Noah introducing himself and the opening to a Bright Eyes song. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him.
The sincere nature with which Noah performs should make him feel ill. With anyone else, he would either be nauseated or talking shit, most likely both. Nick has been making fun of people like Noah for years.
He almost regrets it, but he more regrets that he’s allowed Noah to make him soft. It almost turns his stomach when he realizes he’s listening to a Bright Eyes song with a smile on his face.
The end of paralysis, I was a statuette
Now I’m drunk as hell on a piano bench
And when I press the keys, it all gets reversed
The sound of loneliness makes me happier
When Noah comes to the bar after, he still doesn’t need to be asked. There’s a Yuengling waiting for him, and Nick isn’t putting in an ounce of effort to wipe the grin off his face. He almost rejects it when Noah hands over a $10 bill, but he hasn’t gone quite that soft yet.
“Nice job tonight,” Nick tells him. The corners of Noah’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and Nick has to blink away the hearts in his eyes. Goddammit. “Are you parked illegally again?”
“I had just enough in my account to Uber here.”
“You need a lift home,” Nick says, feigning annoyance. Noah looks awfully shy when he nods. “You expect me to be the one to take you again.”
“No, you don’t have to, I—”
“I’m just fucking with you, pretty boy,” Nick interrupts, basking in the way the blush heats Noah’s cheeks. He can barely make it out in the dim lighting of the bar, but it hits him just right when he ducks his head and smiles. He could watch that over and over. “It’s still early, but if you can hang around for a while, I’ll take you home.”
When Nick pulls up out front, Noah is fidgeting with his hands, staring at his lap. It’s almost painfully cute, and Nick could sit here watching him until the sun rises, but he kind of wants to get home to his bed.
“Do you want to come up?” Noah asks suddenly, and when Nick looks over, his gaze is still focused on his hands in his lap, picking at his cuticles. “You don’t have to, it’s just that my roommates aren’t home and I just thought maybe—”
Nick doesn’t know exactly what’s gotten into him. He doesn’t know what Noah is just thinking, but he doesn’t even let him finish the thought before he’s deciding that his bed can wait.
He’s never decided before that his bed can wait.
“Relax, Noah,” Nick says, and when Noah meets his eyes, they’re a little wet. His hands are shaking, Nick can tell from here, and it’s all too endearing. “I’ll come keep you company.”
When Nick shifts the car back into drive, he swears he can see Noah’s eyes sparkling.
Noah’s apartment, decidedly, is a shithole. Not that Nick has any room to talk.
The walls are cracked, the paint chipped, the furniture mismatched in a way that you can tell it’s at least secondhand, but more likely plucked off the street. There’s that little bit of historic charm that makes it so Richmond. The art brings it all together for him—the wall-hangings, framed prints, records lining the walls. It’s all so Noah that it hurts. He wonders about the roommates, what hand they have to play in the decor, but it screams Noah more than anything.
Noah handed him a cup of tea ages ago and they’ve been sitting in silence since. It’s a little awkward, but he finds it comforting somehow, sitting in Noah’s company in his home that feels just like that—like home. He’s itching to thumb through the boxes of records in the corner by Noah’s turntable setup when Noah breaks the silence. Nick lets out a deep breath, relieved.
“Would it be weird if I wanted to play you something?” Noah asks, and he sounds awfully timid, like he’s afraid to ask. He’s never seen Noah look so small, shrunken down more than seems possible for someone of his height. Nick almost wants to reach out and touch. He wishes he could.
“Do I finally get to hear a Noah Davis original?” Nick asks, teasing. Noah’s returning look is uncertain and a little nervous. Nick hadn’t meant to push him, but Noah pushes it off quickly, laughing in an instant.
“Not yet,” Noah says, and Nick has so many questions that he’s not going to ask.
He wants to know so much about Noah that he doesn’t. He wants to know what Noah’s originals sound like. He just knows that he has them—the ultra-earnest types always do. He wants to know what it is that makes a boy with talent like that so shy, so seemingly uncertain of himself. He finds the little moments of confidence so enthralling, loving that side of Noah. The shy moments get him even more. He wants inside of his head so bad it pains him.
“There’s something I think you’ll like even more,” Noah continues, pulling his acoustic into his lap. He wonders how many times Noah has used this move—if it is a move, or if he’s just this painfully cute—and he wonders also when he became the teenage girl that falls for it. Nick’s interest is unequivocally piqued, whether Noah actually knows him in the way that he thinks he does, somehow.
When Noah starts playing, Nick’s mind travels back to the first night he ever saw him. Nick was wearing his favorite ratty old shirt—The Cure. Nick had been paying attention, from the moment he laid eyes on him. He had been paying such close attention that he had to slip out and have a panic attack into a greasy paper bag on the dirty, wet ground next to a dumpster. He never would have guessed that, even then, Noah was paying attention too.
It’s such a small thing, but he hasn’t felt seen like this in a long time.
He finds himself singing along, and Noah’s face lights up in a way that makes Nick’s stomach twist. He leans his head against the back of the couch—no doubt swiped off a Carytown curb—and closes his eyes. He feels happy in a way he hasn’t felt in years, safe in a way he hasn’t felt in over 700 days. He loves it here, in this shitty apartment with this terribly sweet boy.
He doesn’t quite know how he’s meant to feel about that.
However far away
I will always love you
However long I stay
I will always love you
Whatever words I say
I will always love you
He’s so lost in his own world, lost in the comfort of the moment, that he doesn’t realize when Noah’s stopped playing. He’s taken out of his trance slightly when he feels a finger ghosting across the back of his hand, but he decides to stay in it a little longer.
“Nicky,” Noah whispers. Nick can feel breath ghosting across his cheek. Something in him twists when he lets it settle in that he doesn’t despise the nickname when it’s coming from Noah. “Nicky, can you look at me?” Nick opens his eyes and tilts his head—Noah is right there. His breath hitches, and Noah matches it. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
He has no idea what’s come over him. Deep down, he knows that he shouldn’t be doing this. He also knows that looking into Noah’s eyes, looking back at him so hopefully, he hasn’t wanted anything more in a long time. He doesn’t answer with his words, just leans in and captures Noah’s lips with his.
Noah sighs into it, promptly settling, cupping Nick’s cheek. Nick swipes his tongue along Noah’s bottom lip, savoring the way that Noah opens up for him without skipping a beat, letting Nick in. They kiss for what feels like ages. Nick has practically melted into the couch, feeling at once like he’s floating and sinking, and he’s so dazed that he almost doesn’t notice when Noah slides to the floor between his legs.
Noah doesn’t say anything. He places his hands on Nick’s thighs, and he can feel the heat radiating from Noah’s palms through his jeans. He knows what Noah wants—despite his best judgment, he really wants it too. He knows that Noah isn’t going to ask. He can see the anxiety in his expression. There’s a question in his eyes as he looks up, and Nick nods.
Of course you can, Noah.
Noah’s hands are shaking as he undoes Nick’s jeans, pulling his cock out. His stomach flips, not in the way that he’s used to. He doesn’t feel nauseated, twisty like normal, but he’s buzzing with it. He’s so singularly focused on Noah, on the way it feels when Noah licks around the head, sucks, sinks down further.
He tries not to feel embarrassed by his moans. They don’t even sound like they’re coming from him. They’re coming from somewhere far away, from someone else entirely. He forgot what this was like. He forgot he sounded like this. He forgot he could feel like this.
Noah is really talented with his mouth. He rolls his eyes, because of course he is.
“Fuck, Noah,” Nick groans, threading his fingers through Noah’s hair. He yanks on it a bit, not enough to pull him off or hurt him, just enough to make him moan and feel as it vibrates through him.
Nick keeps his hand in Noah’s hair, while Noah reaches for the other, grasping it in his own. Noah’s thumb grazes along his knuckles and the touch gives him butterflies.
His eyes travel down at their joined hands. He doesn’t normally look at his hands like this, and his stomach turns from butterflies into a painful twisting. Beneath Noah’s thumb, in the dim light of the apartment, he sees them just right.
The scars along the back of his hand, his knuckles, his fingers. He’s taken back to his reality, to brick, to crashing glass, to screaming—
“Noah, stop,” Nick says, but Noah must not hear him. His voice is cracking, he can barely hear himself through the whooshing in his ears. His vision has tunneled and he can barely see. “Stop.”
When Noah pulls off, he doesn’t have a moment to speak before Nick is standing up and rushing back into his pants, rushing for the door. “I’m sorry, Noah.”
He’ll feel guilty about this later. Right now, he has to get out of here, have his panic attack alone in his car instead of in front of Noah.
“Nick, wait—”
But the door is already slamming behind him.
#bad omens fic#bad omens fanfiction#bad omens rpf#nick ruffilo fic#nick ruffilo fanfiction#nick ruffilo rpf#nicholas ruffilo fic#nicholas ruffilo fanfiction#nicholas ruffilo rpf#noah sebastian fic#noah sebastian fanfiction#noah sebastian rpf#noah sebastian x nick ruffilo#noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo#deathblacksmoke works#fic: dramamine
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Hello Author!! I've read a lot of your fics and I love your work!! Even though I would like the roles to be reversed from time to time, it's always up to Weems to take care of others a little bit.Return of the elevator (return the device if the English do not have the same expression as the French, or perhaps the translation will be understandable 😅) I think it would be a nice idea To work, But that's not the reason for my presence here, I read in one of your fictions, I no longer have the title in mind but it's when the reader is tired and weems takes care of him, you mentioned From a difficult student for whom the baby monitor is useful, I have a question, what is the use of the baby monitor? Is it like a camera with microphone to see and speak with the student if she Is busy elsewhere? I really can't imagine what use this is for him but hey my request is a story about why wednesday ended up sleeping at weems and how the baby monitor Has been used ? I'm really very, very curious about this situation, thank you for reading, have a good day, author!
The Baby Monitor
Pairings: Ms Thornhill x Weems x Wednesday (platonic)
Word count: 1.9K
Summary: Wednesday has been too busy to listen to what she needs. Sooner or later, she is forced to listen.
TW: passing out, not eating, not sleeping, illness
A/n another Wednesday fic!
“Wednesday come on, you have to eat. I know this investigation means a lot to you, but you need to take care of yourself, or you’ll be useless.” Enid begged.
“Im so close. I can feel it. Enid, go to lunch I will join you soon.”
“This is the third day you haven’t shown up to meals wends you can’t keep doing this.” Enid frowned before huffing and storming out of the dorm.
Enid was at the end of her patience. Wednesday had been working non-stop for days. She hadn’t been eating properly or sleeping, but because her grades stayed the same nobody else really seemed to notice too much. Enid was considering going to weems about the issue. If there was one person who could tame the addams it was her. Since all of the drama last semester Wednesday had been slightly more accommodating to the British principle. But that wasn’t to say she would listen to her without a fight.
Lunch came and went with no sign of Wednesday at all. They both had botany after lunch and despite all the fuss Wednesday was yet to skip any of her classes. She probably knew it would warrant a trip to weems. After all the issues with Ms Thornhill were cleared up, she was back to her old self, the bubbly easygoing botanist and dorm mum they all knew and loved.
Enid sighed in defeat and gathered her things. She disposed of her lunch scraps and tray and shouldered her bag, heading off in the direction of the conservatory.
Taking her seat, she watched Wednesday enter. She seemed slightly off kilter. Mildly sluggish and more pale than normal. She was squinting as if the light hurt her eyes and yet she almost seemed as if she was sick and downplaying it. Enid wouldn’t be surprised with how little sleep she had been having. Even an addams body was more susceptible to illness when run down. Wednesday flopped down in her seat without her usual poise or grace. Enid raised a brow, she looked much worse than she had in the dorm. The trip to class seemed to have sucked the life out of her.
Slouching in her seat she rested her head on her folded arms on the desk. Before she knew it enid realised Wednesday’s breathing had evened out slightly. But her sleep was short lived. Ms Thornhill called on the raven to come solve some questions on the board.
Wednesday lifted her head wearily and glared.
“Now Miss Addams.” Thornhill said tapping her foot impatiently. Wednesday gave a tired sigh and stood, swaying. After slowly making her way to the front one step at a time, she swayed badly. Ms Thornhill came to her side. Putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Wednesday? Wednesday, what’s wrong honey?” She asked but the words were garbled to the young Addams. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body dropped like a stone. Ms Thornhill was quick to catch her in her arms. Slowly she sank to the floor, lowering herself and her student to lean against the wall. She sat against the front of the room with Wednesday tightly in her hold and mostly draped across her lap, unconscious.
“Enid.” Ms Thornhill said in an urgent voice. “Get Ms Weems in here this instant. The rest of you wait outside. Now!” She said as she kept her tight hold on the addams. She looked so peaceful yet so tired even while she was unconscious.
The class scrambled to carry out the instructions. Ms Thornhill knew the nurses were away for a conference, Ms Weems had sent a staff wide email that morning about it. She had said if any issues arose to contact her directly. This defiantly counted as an issue.
Ms Thornhill sat and waited. Wednesday’s head was in her lap as she traced her fingers over her pale face to remove the small hairs from her face.
After a few peaceful moments of quiet the door opened.
“Marilyn?” Came the accented voice of the principle.
“Im here. Shes still out cold.” The botanist responded.
A moment lapsed before Ms Weems face appeared over the desk and she came around to join her staff member on the floor.
She laid a gentle hand on Wednesdays forehead. “She seems a bit warm. Do you know if she felt ill at all?” The principle asked with concern.
“Not that i know of but she seemed exhausted.”
A tentative knock sounded on the door and both teachers turned to see enid standing there awkwardly.
“Ms sinclair? Do you have something to say?” Ms weems asked with a raised brow.
“She hasn’t been sleeping. Shes been too busy with her investigations and i don’t think shes eaten either. It’s been about four days and she’s not taking care of herself. I’ve been trying to get her to listen and i was going to come to you this afternoon, honest. I didn’t know it was this bad or i would have done more sooner.” Enid said talking a mile a minute and wringing her hands.
Weems brow softened. “Thank you, Enid. We’ll take it from here. You’ve been more helpful than you realise. You're a good friend.”
Enid nodded and left again.
“Well, she doesn’t look like she’s waking up anytime soon and it seems she’ll be in need of close care for a while. I’ll take her to my quarters for her recovery. She would simply escape if she was left in the infirmary. I won't be surprised if her fever is the beginnings of an illness from a weakened immune system. Most likely from lack of sleep. I’ll take her off your hands Marilyn.” Ms Weems said and smiled.
“I’ll drop by after class.” She said and gently slipped her arms under the addams girl and passed her limp from to Weems.
Weems stood up straight and propped Wednesday’s form up so her head rested in the crook of the headmistresses' elbow, with her other arm supporting her legs.
The principle expressed her thanks and swiftly and fluidly swept from the room, ignoring the looks from her students as she walked to her office with the addams unconscious in her arms, looking pale and sickly.
After making it into the haven of her office she gently set Wednesday down on the couch so she could set up the spare bed for her before she woke up.
Rooting around in one of the spare drawers she found what she was looking for. A small plastic white device that had been left in storage by the previous Principle. A baby monitor. No way was she leaving the addams without being able to monitor her closely. She set the device down on her desk near Wednesday, she took its counterpart with her to set up the room.
After she had finished wrestling with the fitted sheet, she threw on the final covers. Just as she begun tucking in the top sheet, she heard rustling on the monitor. Swearing softly, she hurried from the room back to her office.
As she arrived, she saw Wednesday stand up, bracing herself on the back of the couch to stay upright as she tried to escape. Weems crossed her arms.
“Miss addams! Where do you think you’re going?!” She said and her resolve softened as she noticed the glassy look in her students' eyes. In hurried steps she came over to the young troublemaker who looked at her blankly.
She placed a tender hand to her forehead before moving to her cheek.
“Your fever has risen.” She said, smoothing down her dress. “No matter, we will deal with it. Come now.” She said and grabbed the monitor before guiding Wednesday by the elbow to the room. The raven walked on wobbly legs and uneven steps from a few paced before weems simply scooped her into her strong arms.
“Ms weems!” Wednesday mumbled in protest, her eyes drifting closed as she leant into the headmistress who hummed in a mild concern.
“Come now Wednesday, you can barely stand. To bed with you. I’ll have the cook bring some light food and we’ll get some medicine into you. And in future don’t be so difficult. If you need help with anything, simply ask my darling. We don’t need this to happen again you stubborn girl.” She scolded laying Wednesday down in the bed before tucking her in. Wednesday simply hummed weakly in response making Weems frown.
“Rest now darling. I’ll contact the chef.” She said and set down the monitor on the bedside. Wednesday opened an eye to glare at it.
“I don’t need that.” She said closing her eyes again.
“Wednesday addams, you will remain here until i see fit. Whilst you remain in my care you will keep that monitor on and in the room. Break it and spend a week in detention for destruction of school property.” She lectured before softening slightly. “Im here to help you, don’t be so stubborn. If you would rather have your mother look after you that can be arranged. And I’m sure she will be far more doting than i.” She said and smiled down at Wednesday, who grunted and rolled over.
“No.” She huffed.
“Goodnight darling I’ll be back soon. Rest up.” She said and left.
After contacting the cook the make Wednesday a light chicken noodle soup she grabbed her laptop and came to sit by Wednesday's bedside while she worked.
After a while she heard a knock and went to get the food from the cook. Gently she woke up Wednesday who pouted which was borderline cute with her pink flushed cheeks and nose. Weems frowned at the glassy look in her eyes and lifted a glass to her lips.
“Drink.” She instructed and Wednesday glared before greedily gulping down the water.
“Not so fast darling, leave some to take your medicine.” Weems said and handed Wednesday two small white tablets. Wednesday glared at them but took them before weems lifted the spoon to her lips. Wednesday drew the line there, taking the spoon from weems. But her hands shook, and no soup stayed on the spoon. Weems gently took the spoon back and Wednesday relented.
“Let me darling.” She said and Wednesday allowed the headmistress to spoon feed her the broth like a child. After she had eaten Weems insisted, she rests some more as she settled the Addams back into the nest she had established. As she rested once more Weems gently typed out some important emails on her computer, still sat on the bed with her legs up and lent against the headboard. She had promised Mortica she would look after the young addams and that was exactly what she planned to do. She was learning a fair bit about Wednesday. For example, she was quiet the cuddler in her sleep Weems realised as her leg was trapped by Wednesday who had curled into her side and wrapped her pale arms around Weems thigh. Weems smiled down at the sleeping girl and drew slow circles on her back as she slept.
Weems may not have ever had children, but she loved Wednesday like her own even if she wasn’t able to show it often, she cared for her. And she would make sure Wednesday was well enough soon to receive the lecture of her life.
#wednesday comfort#wednesday addams#larissa weems#marilyn thornhill#hurt comfort#sicfic#whump#fluff#comfort#sick Wednesday#slight angst#passing out#illness#principle weems#good Marilyn Thornhill#baby monitor#stubborn Wednesday#self care#motherly weems#platonic#enid Sinclair#fanfic#fanfiction#cross post
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Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 11
Story Summary:
You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.
Rating: Mature
Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort
Words: 2,963
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Read on Ao3
You’ve done as Gaius instructed, and returned to your regular duties, sewing the harvest outfits for the king and queen. You spent the remainder of yesterday working once you got back from your visit to Gwaine’s bedside. Now you’ve spent the entire day doing so, sighing and rubbing your strained eyes when you put your needle down at last.
You prepare a simple dinner and begin to eat at the table, your now otherwise unoccupied thoughts wholly on Sir Gwaine. You shove another spoonful into your mouth, almost choking when there’s a rapid knock at your door. You quickly swallow your food as you rush to the door and open it.
“He’s awake!” Merlin beams.
You gasp and, wasting no time, leave your chambers, your remaining dinner abandoned.
Merlin opens the door when you arrive at your destination, allowing you to enter first. You look to the bed, spotting Gwaine’s face gazing back at you from his reclined position. You make your way over to him, anxiety flaring as you realise that, as excited as you have been for Gwaine to recover, you are nervous to see him now, since the last time you spoke, it was not on pleasant terms.
You pull up a chair at his bedside and sit down.
“It’s good to see you awake at last,” You say, finding it difficult to hold his gaze for long.
“I needed my beauty sleep,” Gwaine smirks.
You smile, relieved that he is feeling well enough to jest.
“I was just telling Gwaine, before I fetched you, how you visited him while he was unconscious,” Merlin says from across the room with a mischievous smile.
Your cheeks warm. “Yes, well… I wanted to make sure you were getting better,”
“I’m feeling much better, now that you’re here,” Gwaine says softly.
You look away from his tender gaze. “Where’s Gaius?”
“He’s gone to inform Arthur,”
“I was informed before the king?” You ask in disbelief.
“Well, your chambers are closer, and besides,” Merlin says. “Arthur could stand to learn a little patience,”
The three of you chuckle, but Gwaine’s laugh turns into a groan as he clutches his side. Your hand automatically moves to touch Gwaine’s arm in concern. His eyes dart from your hand to your face and you blush, pulling the hand away. Gwaine opens his mouth to speak when the door suddenly swings open and the king enters, followed by Gaius.
“Gwaine,” He grins, crossing the room and extending a hand. Gwaine extends his own and they grasp arms as male friends often do. “I knew you were too tough to be bested by mere raiders,”
“We all know I’m the strongest knight, despite what Percival might think,” Gwaine grins.
The king laughs and claps his hands together. “Well, I just wanted to see for myself that you’re on the mend. I expect to see you back at training very soon,”
“I’m afraid I cannot allow that, sire,” Gaius interjects. “Sir Gwaine will need time to recover from his wound. Vigorous exercise is sure to reverse any healing that has occurred,”
“Very well,” The king starts for the door, but turns to point a finger at Gwaine. “But don’t even think about laying it on thick to avoid coming back training. I know what you’re like,”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Gwaine replies playfully.
Arthur smirks, before leaving, the door snapping shut behind him.
“That man has an unnatural obsession with physical punishment,” Gwaine says as soon as the king is out of sight.
You look to Merlin and you both grin, relieved and glad to have the jesting knight back with you.
“Can I return to my own chambers, Gaius?” Gwaine asks.
The physician looks up from his workbench where he’s tidying up. “I would prefer if you were to stay here a bit longer, Gwaine. You have only just become conscious again,”
Gwaine groans. “I long for the comfort of my own bed. Don’t you, Gaius?” He looks down meaningfully at the bed he’s lying in.
“My patients’ well-being comes first,” Gaius replies. “Besides, how do you suppose you will get from here to your chambers? You haven’t even managed to sit up yet,”
“These two will help me,” Gwaine gestures to you and Merlin.
Gaius sighs. “Very well. But,” His expression becomes stern. “Be very careful not to reopen your wound,”
“I will, Gaius,” Gwaine carefully props himself up, then looks between you and Merlin. “Let’s go,”
“Wait a moment,” Gaius retrieves a bundle of fabric from nearby and tosses it to Gwaine, who holds it up, revealing a shirt. “We can’t have you walking about the castle half-naked,”
Gwaine carefully slips the shirt over his head and eases his arms into the sleeves. “There we are,”
Merlin approaches the bed, putting an arm around Gwaine’s back and helping him to stand. You get up from your chair and put an arm around Gwaine from the other side, you and Merlin both taking some of the knight’s weight as he rests an arm on each of your shoulders.
“Take it slow,” Gaius instructs as the three of you head out the door.
You and Merlin guide Gwaine through the corridors of the castle, taking the stairs extra carefully. You try not to focus on the fact that this is the closest you’ve ever been to Gwaine, and the most physical contact you’ve ever had with each other. You notice out of the corner of your eye that the knight gives an occasional glance your way, but you stay focused on the path ahead to avoid the possibility of turning beet red from gazing at him from such a close proximity.
In over double the amount of time it would usually take to make the distance to Gwaine’s chambers, you finally arrive. Merlin opens the door and you both lead Gwaine to his bed and assist him to sit on the edge.
He sighs. “Much obliged to you both. Now, Merlin,” He gives his friend a meaningful look.
Merlin smiles and heads back to the door, gently closing it behind him as he leaves the room without a word. You’re struck with mild alarm from being thrust into this situation, just you and Gwaine alone.
Gwaine clears his throat. “So…”
Seeing no chair nearby, you take a deep breath and perch on the edge of the bed too, about three feet between you.
“I want to start by saying how sorry I am,” You begin. “My behaviour toward you was unforgivable. The thought that I hurt you makes my stomach turn,” You look down in shame.
“(Y/N), please don’t be so hard on yourself,” He replies. “I forgive you,”
You meet his gaze, which is absolutely sincere.
“You are not at fault here,” He continues “It was a misunderstanding, and you were led astray, which is why I want to talk things through now. I would like you to tell me what happened between when we spoke in your chambers about Sir Leon, and when we last spoke, at your chamber door,”
You wince at the memory of the terrible exchange of the latter.
“Are you sure we should do this now?” You ask. “It’s getting late, and surely you need rest,”
“I can rest later, once I’ve heard your account. Please…”
You sigh deeply, clasping your hands in your lap. “Alright, where to start? I suppose I should begin with when I returned to Camelot after my rescue from those bandits. I admit I… was afraid to see you. I felt so wretched and I was worried I would be terrible company. I thought I wouldn’t be able to laugh with you anymore and… that I was spoiled,”
You touch the side of your head where your hacked hair is hidden underneath the fabric cap. You glance up at Gwaine, sorrow and anger in his eyes.
“But you came by my chambers,” You continue. “And we had our talk about Sir Leon. I didn’t see you for three days after that, but I thought perhaps you were busy. On the fourth day, I went out to fetch some water, and I saw you walking with a woman, who was very elegant and pretty. I didn’t think much of it until later. On the way back to my chambers, I overheard your sister speaking to someone in the courtiers’ wing. They were gossiping about what happened to me. Erika said that you’d gone off me. She knew what had happened to my hair and said I was too ugly now for any man to want me. I rushed back to my chambers, upset, and thought of what she said, and how I hadn’t seen you in three days, but saw you with that woman, and I imagined that your sister was right. I couldn’t face seeing anyone, so I didn’t answer my door to any who came by. I only left my chambers to conduct fittings or go to the market, which is where I saw Erika again, I believe with the same friend as last time. She said that she’d seen you head to my chambers a few times, and she assumed that you… that you and I…”
“You don’t have to say it,” Gwaine says, clearly livid, but attempting to keep his voice steady.
You nod in thanks, before continuing. “She also said that back home, the townspeople hid their daughters from you. I ran into you in the courtyard, just after I’d heard all that, and I was so cold toward you, thinking of those terrible things Erika had said. I returned to my chambers and thought over everything, questioned everything. I thought of those bandits and the things they said, how they made me feel like I wasn’t a person, but just something to be used, and with all those things your sister said… I thought that you’d just wanted to use me too,”
Your voice wavers and tears well up in your eyes. Before you can say any more, Gwaine’s arms are around you and your face is buried in the crook of his neck. You stay like that for a few moments, taking comfort in his warm embrace as your tears soak through his shirt, before pulling away and wiping your eyes on the back of your hand.
“The next day we spoke at my chamber door,” You continue. “I need not repeat what was said, for I’m sure we both remember. I spent much time reflecting after you left, realising how foolish and cruel I had been. I was afraid you would never want to speak to me again. But Merlin visited me the next day, and with his encouragement, I planned to seek you out after your evening training. So, when the time came, I went to the knights’ quarters and no one was there, then I found out you’d all left on an urgent mission. Now… here we are,”
“Here we are,” Gwaine repeats with a sigh.
“Do you see how foolish I’ve been?”
“No,” Gwaine protests. “What I see, is that you’ve been in a delicate state since those terrible events with the bandits. I see that during your time of distress, my sister made things worse. You needed to be treated with gentleness, but she inflicted her venomous words upon you,”
“But she never spoke directly to me,” You interject. “I only ever overheard her talking to someone else,”
“Knowing Erika, I’d say she knew you were able to hear. At least in the second instance,” Gwaine shakes his head. “And with you already feeling low, you believed the things she said,”
“I should have known better,” You hang your head.
“You are not to blame,” Gwaine puts a hand on your shoulder, his gaze intense. “Not one bit, you hear?”
You hold his gaze, seeing nothing but earnestness, and you nod. Gwaine removes his hand and rests his elbows on his knees, fingers threaded together.
“I would like to tell my side of the story now,” He says. “Hopefully it’ll clear some things up,”
You shift your position on the bed, moving so your body is fully facing Gwaine.
“Those three days where I didn’t see you,” He begins. “The first, Arthur had us go on another patrol to check for bandits. He didn’t want to chance it that any more people would be taken and sold to slavers. By the time we returned we were all exhausted, so I didn’t come by to see you. The second day, since I had made up with Leon that night after we spoke, all us knights went to the tavern, glad the tension was behind us. We stayed there late, so by the time I got back to the castle, it was past any reasonable hour for a visit. The third day is where I made a mistake. I was planning to see you, and told the other knights such, but they wanted to go back to the tavern to try to make back the money they’d lost gambling the night before. I let them persuade me to go with them instead of seeing you. With things freshly mended between me and Leon, I didn’t want to chance causing any more friction, so I did as they wanted. I came by your chambers the next day, but received no answer. By the sounds of it, you’d already heard some of Erika’s foul words by then. I had supposed at the time that you must have been out, but perhaps not?”
You shake your head. “I heard the knock, but I didn’t want to see anyone,”
Gwaine nods in understanding. “In regards to that woman you saw me with. I’d hazard a guess and say she was a friend of Erika’s. I’d never met her before that day, and she was asking me odd questions, some about you. I only gave vague answers since the whole thing seemed suspicious,” He frowns. “Now, about the things my sister had to say about me: she has taken the smallest grain of truth and warped it into a terrible lie,” He sighs. “Remember when I told you how things changed after my father died?”
You nod.
“I didn’t go into everything,” He continues. “It was an unhappy time. My mother’s greatest wish was for me and Erika to marry well. Our reduced position upset my mother greatly, so she would constantly push us onto wealthy, unmarried sons and daughters of nobles, hoping a good match would come of it. I couldn’t stand it, to be permanently tied to someone just for the money… so I rebelled. I purposely botched any courtships my mother forced me into, and instead sought the company of the innkeep’s daughter,”
“Did you love her?” You ask.
“I thought I did at the time,” Gwaine grimaces. “But I think I realise now that what I actually loved was the sense of freedom I had when I was with her. Time with her was time away from nobles and my mother’s schemes. Anyway, Erika found out and told the innkeep, who was furious. He forbade me from so much as looking in his daughter’s direction. It was shortly after that I left town. I admit I was a terrible flirt during my time wandering, but… I was lonely. I was travelling alone, never staying in one place too long since I usually got into trouble wherever I went. I just wanted to feel some kind of connection… but it was only ever just dalliances or words thrown back and forth, with no sincerity or meaning behind them,”
Feeling reluctant to ask the question, you push yourself to do so anyway.
“Were you feeling lonely when you first spoke to me?”
Gwaine looks into your eyes. “No. Since being here, becoming a knight… I’m in a very different place now. I have a home, friends, duty. But that day we first spoke, I saw a damsel looking very lost, and felt it was my knightly duty to assist,” He grins.
You smile. “And taking me to the baker’s for fruit and custard buns – was that a knightly duty?”
Gwaine chuckles, wincing slightly and clutching his side. “No, that was me wanting to get to know you better. Just from speaking to you a little, I got some sort of sense about you,”
“Sense? Like a psychic sense?” You tease.
“No, nothing like that,” He scoffs. “I got a sense that you were very genuine… true to yourself. And you liked to jest and to laugh. What was it you said on our picnic?”
You shake your head, unsure as to what he is referring.
“That was it,” He smiles. “‘One should never underestimate laughter, and cherish those who make them smile,’”
A blush blooms in your cheeks as he gazes at you, his eyes brimming with warmth, and a sensation washes over you, of a massive weight being lifted from within.
“I’m so glad we’ve been able to talk things over at last,” You say.
Gwaine reaches out, taking your hand in his. “Me too,”
You look down at his hand enveloping yours, and stroke along his knuckles with your thumb.
“The hour is late,” You gently remove your hand from his and stand up.
“Don’t go yet,”
“Gaius will have my hide if he finds out I kept you from resting,”
Gwaine groans. “Will you visit again tomorrow?”
“I will,” You smile. “But I won’t come until around midday, so make sure you have a nice, long beauty sleep,”
“Why around midday?”
“I do have a job, you know,” You smirk.
“Of course. Well, I will be counting down to the hour,”
“The only thing you need to worry about counting is sheep,”
Gwaine chuckles. “Goodnight, (Y/N),”
“Goodnight, Gwaine,”
#gwaine x reader#reader x gwaine#gwaine#sir gwaine#merlin fic#bbc merlin fic#bbc merlin#reader insert#merlin bbc#my writing
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Mix and Match Blurb Submission (from a new fan!)
Rooster/Dealer's Choice/Piano (or alternatively, aviators, because why the hell not?)/"I'm not sorry."
Welcome, welcome! I'm so glad you're here!
This one was tough, but I hope you like it! It's a little bit of fluff, a little bit of angst. I may revisit this prompt in the future, for sure.
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And I'd Do It All Again
You’re sitting at the piano bench, your fingers ghosting along the keys when Bradley got home that night. It’s late, and on a normal day, he would have been home nearly two hours ago. But it wasn’t a regular night, and he had been detained on base for a reprimand. You hadn’t bothered waiting around for him, too blinded by your anger.
You don’t look up when he walks in, nor do you respond when he calls your name. Instead, you press down on the ivory a little bit harder. You’re not playing any specific melody or keeping any type of tune, but you think the screeching that is coming out of the instrument is a good representation of what you’re feeling right now.
“Are you going to ignore me?”
He sighs when you do just that. He straddles the bench beside you so that he’s fully facing you. You can feel his body heat and smell the mixture of jet fuel and his cologne. He doesn’t touch you and you think you’re grateful for that.
“I’m not sorry,” he spoke gently. The piano makes an abrupt sound as you suddenly stop playing. Still, you don’t look at him. “You are a damn good pilot, and you deserve a lot more respect than what you get. I bite my tongue a lot more than I should when we’re at work, because I know you can fight your own battles and I know that’s what you want me to do. But you’re also my wife. And the moment some asshole thinks just because he thinks he’s better than you and can push you like he did? That’s not something I’ll ignore. I will never, ever apologize for defending you for that.”
You sit in the quiet for several long moments as you consider his words.
Truthfully, it had been inevitable. The hot shot new pilot who was subbing in for Omaha for the next few weeks had been more than a little demeaning since he arrived at Top Gun six days ago, talking down to not only you, but Phoenix and Halo as well. His patience was already running thin by the time the douchebag thought it was okay to push you when you showed him up in the classroom. The guy deserved it, but you hated that your husband even had to put himself in that position for you, and that he would potentially face consequences that impact his career for it.
If you were honest with yourself, you were grateful.
You finally turn your head. His whiskey colored eyes look back at you, imploring you to forgive him, but steadfast in not backing down either. You let out a sigh and shuffle closer between his spread legs on the piano bench. He takes it as permission and lets a hand settle on your thigh.
“Is it going in your official file?” you ask quietly.
“No. Mav and Hondo were in the room and saw it happen. They backed me up with Cyclone.”
You breathe a sigh of relief and lean your body fully against his. His arms are immediately around you, holding you tightly.
“You didn’t have to hit him,” you mutter into his khaki uniform shirt. He presses a kiss to your hair.
“Yes I did. And you know it. Please don’t ask me to apologize, because I won’t.”
You nod, knowing that, at the end of the day, you would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.
“Thank you for always wanting to protect me,” you respond instead. Bradley tucks a finger under your chin, titling your head back far enough to meet his eyes again. He connects your lips softly, the first one you’d shared since he left before you that morning.
“I’ll always take care of you, baby. Always.”
count count: 637
#alli's tgm blurb party#alli's tgm mix and match blurb party#alli writes#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fic#Bradley bradshaw blurb#rooster x reader
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