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pascalpvnk · 2 months

Text

take it from me

pairing: latino!joel miller x f!afab!reader

summary: joel is a simple man who simply finds pleasure in pleasing you.

warnings: moodboard used for aesthetic purposes - does not represent the reader description, 18+ MDNI, no timeline, no specified ages, no mention of sarah or ellie, LATINO JOEL (most translations within the text except for some reused pet names/common phrases). This is porn with minimal plot (but unrelated plot I canon—his favorite artist is Linda Ronstadt and I stand by it.), Joel maneuvers reader, manhandling essentially, no other descriptions of reader other than nipple piercings, body worship(?), Joel’s filthy fucking mouth, mention of thigh riding, oral (both receiving), unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, mentions of intense emotions, aftercare.

word count: 3.3k

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

a/n: fun fact, I’m a virgin, so if it seems far fetched it’s probably because it is. anyways, a special shoutout to ramon nomar for being the muse for this piece, another to @mrsswilliams for beta-ing and fueling my horny antics, thank you to my spanish teachers for guiding me to this moment (probably not your intention but I digress), and to you for taking the time to be here and hopefully enjoying! happy reading xx (banners & dividers by @saradika-graphics)

Addicting is the only word Joel Miller can muster up to describe you as his mind clouds with lust each night he’s alone, bucking into his own fist and spilling his sins after he’d met you. Of course you’re beautiful and charming above all things, but he can’t help the way his cock stirs after simply a phone call from you describing your day. How you miss him and want to meet up again soon.

Joel isn’t the brightest man, which he is very self aware of. But what he craves to learn about you, what your favorite flower is, favorite ice cream, your desires, outranks any level of intelligence a man could hold. He wants to please you, not for a superficial reason to use against you down the line. He enjoys your smile and the way your eyes crinkle, your dimple making an appearance on occasion, and it makes him feel good. The little things shine a light in his chest, ever the people pleaser.

However, he finds a red, hot desire to rouse you, make you squirm under his tender touch. To watch every fiber of control and tension dissipate from your being.

But he’s cautious.

He’s treading on thin ice within himself. He wants to give and give and give, but he’d never forgive himself if he overwhelmed and alarmed you. Your wit keeps him on his toes, tempting and trying his willpower to take things at a palatable pace.

But he’s just a man at his simplest form, a glutton for pleasure wanting to carve himself a home within you and give everything he has to please you.

You found yourself perched upon his lap, a forgotten movie droning in the background as hands and lips explore new territory. Joel firmly guided your hips, firstly against his own, then he aided you across his denim clad thigh after you wriggled your pants to the floor.

Choruses of Spanish praises, filth, ‘mamita, use me’, and phrases alike rolled off his tongue effortlessly as he found pleasure within your own. Consuming every moan, gasp, and ‘don’t stop’ you were so eager to give.

He struggled to deny your beautiful pleas to get him off as he had for you. You knew he wanted you to, there was no doubt in your mind considering the prominent bulge straining and begging you to. He reassured you, or rather made excuses for himself to ease the guilt he felt at your subtle disappointment.

I’m not coming in my jeans in front of the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.

You said you had work in the morning, anyhow. We outta get’cha home, preciosa.

Joel kissed you softly as he pulled up your pants, grabbed his keys, opened his truck door for you, waited at red lights, and finally as he dropped you off at your apartment building, sealing the night with melted wax, branding himself on your heart until you meet next.

Made it home okay, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.

And he does.

His head is already spinning at the thought of going out with you again. He’s showered, trimmed, even ironed his flannel before making sure it’s buttoned and tucked properly. Well rested is not one of the qualities he’s adorning—no thanks to you running his imagination rampant—but the adrenaline he feels, and the coffee he drank at noon, make up for his lack of preparedness.

At the end of the day, those things don’t even matter. Joel Miller makes it as far as his front door when you ring, bringing you inside with the intention of grabbing his own keys. His hands find you instead, your face in a gentle caress as he compliments your attire, your appearance as a whole, and your waist as he kisses you with increasing fervor. You don’t stop him, and he doesn’t stop himself.

“Ay dios. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you all day,” he mumbles against your neck, walking you backwards to his bedroom. His shirt wrinkles under your tight grip, suffocating him until you pop each button open one by one. You leave him in his black undershirt, half untucked in his dark washed jeans.

The back of your knees find his mattress before you even realize, forcing you to sit parallel with his waist. He takes his time, always calculated with his hands on every sweet spot he can reach. Joel cups your jaw, admiring your blown out pupils and the raw lust overtaking your features.

“Wanna take good care of ya, now,” he soothes. “Just say the word and I’ll stop, you know I’ll stop for ya, promise.”

It’s half of a promise to you, half of him asking you to promise to tell him if it becomes too much. You nod, reaching for him once again.

“No, chiquita,” he holds your hand to his chest. “¿Me prometes? You promise me?”

“I promise,” you say clearly and wholeheartedly. “On my life.”

With your renewed consent, he folds himself over to kiss you deeply. His tongue dances with yours, similarly to a few nights prior but with increased desperation. Fingertips graze up your sides, nerves twitching under his subtle touch, only unlatching your lips to lift your top over your head. His eyes fixate on the pebbled flesh and metal protruding your bra, making quick work of the clasp before removing it.

“I knew you had something hiding underneath this,” he muses, toying with the fabric of your bra between his first two fingers. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier, hm?”

Joel skims his thumbs on the underside of both of your breasts, attaching his mouth to your collarbone. He suckles your delicate skin, committing the taste of your sweet musk and desire to his memory. He softly licks over one of your nipples, taking in how your head tips back with a sigh. He brings it into his mouth, nipping and assuaging the pierced bud until you manage to free his shirt out of his waistline.

“Paciencia, amor. Patience, sweetheart, please,” he pacifies as he guides your hand out of reach from his belt. “Just wanna savor you. Can I?”

You nod and opt to tangle your fingers in his curls. Approval seeps through his smirk as he continues his ministrations for as long as he pleases, feeling accomplished each time your hips chase his.

Joel stands up straight, running his calloused hands over one of your clothed legs, meticulously pulling each shoe and sock off and tossing them to the side to find later.

“Do I need a condom, baby?” He mutters against your knee, toying with the hemline of your pants.

You tell him no and quickly explain you’re clean and protected. Something in him visibly switches, desire becoming carnal. He clings tight to his sense of control, desperately willing himself to give himself to you, not give into himself.

Joel drags both layers of bottoms down your legs, watching you challenge him by keeping them clamped together. He exhales heavily through his nose, your limbs relaxing slightly, but just enough for him to retake control.

“Christ, looks like I was wrong again,” he sighs, smoothing his flattened palms over your open thighs. You can get prettier. “Oh she’s pretty, mamita. All this for me?”

A gasp falls between your lips as you’re tugged closer to the edge of the mattress. Your head spins, the only thought crossing it is Joel. His hands. His words. His filthy mouth and how it’s mere centimeters from where you want him to be. Need him to be.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling the scratch of his blunt facial hair on your inner thighs. His lips tease the sensitive skin around your pussy.

“What?” He coos, fingernails biting your flesh. “Dime, baby. Tell me what you want.”

It feels pathetic, you’re completely at his mercy, stripped down on his bed while he remains fully clothed over you. He has you in the palm of his hand, putty waiting to be molded and shaped however he pleases. Bliss has already warped your features, the anticipation of what’s to come already numbing your brain.

“I want you,” you cry simply.

“You have me, don’t ya? I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

Frustration bubbles in your belly. You’re truly not annoyed, but the tension might snap you in half before he gets the chance to.

“Want you to touch me,” you plead. “Want you to make me come, please.”

Joel hums with content, thumbs pulling your cunt open from the outer lips. A slick, sticky mess you are, hardly touched and begging to come. Arousal seeps from you, finding its way to your tight hole. You watch Joel wet his lips, the self restraint slowly dwindling from his gaze.

“Show me,” he huffs. “Be good and fuck your hand f’me. Wanna see how you like it.”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clanking against itself is enough for your hand to fly below your hips. Relief floods your nervous system the moment you circle your clit, hips lifting and chasing the friction. Sighs leave your parted lips, eyelids falling shut with pleasure.

“Ah ah,” he corrects. “Eyes on me, beba. Sigue jugando con esa flor bonita. Mírame.” Keep playing with that pretty flower. Look at me.

You comply with his request, half lidded but maintaining eye contact nonetheless. Your fingers toy with your cunt lazily, eyes settling between his burning gaze and his taut boxers. His length strains beneath the thin fabric and his hand twitches at his side.

“I love watching you, mami,” Joel purrs. “Wish y’could see how perfect you look right now…perfectly wrecked just for me.”

His words egg you on, pace quickening on your throbbing clit. Moans spill from you as you watch Joel squeeze at his seemingly uncomfortable erection for his own relief. His other palm keeps your legs spread for him, kneading desperately at your thighs as you work yourself towards the edge.

“¿Quieres que te ayude, mamita?” Do you want me to help you?

Joel settles on his knees, both palms splayed against your skin to keep you pinned down. He licks a broad stripe from your asshole to your clit, sucking harshly on your labia before diving into your weeping cunt, all while audibly sighing with delight at your taste. Your hand instinctively rushes to grip his curls.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he grumbles while putting your hand back where he says it belongs. “Keep playing with yourself. Make this pretty pussy cry all over my face, cosa dulce.” Sweet thing.

Your digits pulse against the nerve bundle, shocked by the sensation of his tongue swirling inside of you. It’s absolutely obscene. He slurps up everything you have to give, edging you until your legs clamp over his ears. Joel sings into your cunt, a delicious melody that sends you into a frenzy. Your walls flutter around him as he guides you through your orgasm, nose nudging your hand out of the way to make more room for himself.

Your gaze drops from the ceiling to his blissful face, thick eyelashes brushing his flushed cheeks as he savors you. It all begins to feel like too much as you grip onto his shirt. You pull the cloth towards you and he gets the hint, dragging his mouth away from your pussy and removing his top.

“So desperate to come, mamita, already finished with me?” He cants, smoothing a thumb over your kneecap.

“No- just need a breath,” you pant. You take in his features, broad shoulders with a strong chest, thick arms. His hair alone has you running laps, the sparseness of it littered on his torso and below his belly button, his curls tousled already from your hands, and his beard—fuck his beard—is absolutely soaked with your arousal. He makes no attempt to wipe it clean before kissing you. The taste of your cunt dances on your tongue as he licks into your mouth.

“Joel,” you sigh, his lips leaving yours and trailing down your neck. “I wanna suck your cock, please.”

“You wanna suck it?” He smirks, slipping his hand beneath his boxers before shoving them off of his thighs. His fingers slip through your folds briefly before he deposits your cum onto the tip of his dick. Mischief plays on his expression as he opens your legs once more.

Joel slowly stuffs his cock into you, not your mouth but your pussy. A gasp escapes you, morphing itself into a moan. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him in deeper.

“Thought you wanted to suck it,” he grunts with a devilish grin, grinding his hips down into yours.

“Hmm, I’ll suck it later,” you draw out with a smile.

He leans down to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, gently nibbling on the sensitive skin before pulling off.

“God, mamita,” he exhales. “Love fucking this pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

His hips drive into yours at a devastating pace, only using a portion of his length to massage your pussy. You quickly adjust to him, allowing him to thrust deeper into you. You cry his name while simultaneously having all of the oxygen punched out of your lungs. Joel swallows your wails whole, moaning against your lips in return.

Your legs tense around his body, face twisting up with pleasure under the weight of his. Lips drag against your skin, anywhere he can reach. The room spins around you, eyes rolling back into your head as his hand snakes down to play with your clit. You desperately claw at Joel, gripping his curls in one hand and bruising his back with the other.

“Dámelo. Give it to me like I want, sugar,” Joel coaxes.

The bundles of twine prickling your flesh and holding you together in one piece snap, your body completely shattering into a million fragments underneath him. He stays buried inside you as you pulse around his cock, humming into your neck and soothing his hands over your burning skin.

Joel gently settles onto his side near you, cupping your jaw and kissing you feverishly. You shift your body to face away from him, pushing back against his soaked erection. His eyebrows furrow, grunts of detest coming from him.

“No, mami, I want to look at you while I fuck you. Ven aquí, come here,” he corrects, grasping your arm to guide you to press up chest to chest with him. A brief hiss escapes him as the cool jewelry brushes up against his nipples.

“These’ll be the death of me,” he sighs, latching his mouth to yours once more as he maneuvers you the way he wants.

His cock slips easily back into your wet heat, arms trapping your upper half against his as his legs anchor to the bed to buck into you. He grips onto your ass for leverage and you find yourself holding onto it with your own palm. It’s slower, intimate, reeling you in to take more, to take it all.

He draws another orgasm from you. Your heart thrums against his hardened chest, his pounding against the confines of his ribcage. He collapses on his back with a breathy groan, sweat perspiring on his forehead. You push back his sticky curls as he catches his breath this time.

“You still wanna suck it?” He chuckles cheekily, offering but not forcing.

He’s surprised as you eagerly crawl down his body, curling over his thigh while taking his cock in your fist. Your back is to him once more, but beggars can’t be choosers, especially while he’s stuffed in your mouth so perfectly. His fingers drag along your spine, palm splaying flat to soothe the sensation quickly after. His hand stills and stomach flexes as you take as much of him as you can, pumping your tight fist over the remainder of his length.

“Fuck me,” he shutters mindlessly, “feels so good, amor. Treating me so good.”

The praises fuel you, moaning around his tip as he continues to trace shapeless trails onto your back. Your mind feels cloudy, not thunderstorms and impending doom cloudy, but rather a sunny, breezy, nothing could ever go wrong kind of cloudy. You feel taken care of for once, free to slip into a warm, blissful state with Joel. He feels safe.

“Come back, preciosa,” he grins as you make your way back up his body. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you deeply once more, running his hands gently all over your skin as you settle on top of him.

“Missed ya,” he chuckles, kissing your swollen pout a few more times before wetting his fingertips with his spit. He reaches down, circling your clit as his cock twitches against your seam. Your head falls beside his, feeling too heavy to hold up on your own.

Joel protrudes your cunt once more, nestling into you carefully at first. You writhe over him at the push and pull of his cock inside your fluttering walls, hips snapping down against his with subtle slaps of skin rejoicing. He picks up his pace beneath you, overwhelming your senses a bit too quickly.

You work your core to sit up, fully sheathed with his length as you grind against him. He grips onto your hips, watching you use him for your own pleasure.

“Tan bonita, amor,” he hums smugly, his fingertips dancing along your bare thigh, his other hand tucked behind his head to prop himself up. “So pretty, mami, fuck.”

He tweaks his fingers against your nipples, pinching the pebbled flesh carefully as you ride his lap. Tufts of his neat pubic hair scratch at your clit, the friction of everything causing you to soak his lap further. You’re being pushed to your limits, throat dry and voice hoarse. Joel wishes to have put water on his bedside table, he would’ve had he’d known you’d end up here so quickly.

“Doin’ okay, sweetheart?” He checks in, toying with your fingers that have found a home on his chest. You silently nod, eyelids low and face contoured with bliss.

“Think you can give me one more, bebita? Come on my cock one more time and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Your voice hardly sounds like your own, but you mean it when you tell him yes, please. He feels it when you clamp down on his length, his thighs tensing so tight they almost cramp. His legs hinge at the knee, body pivoting you forward into his chest. Joel grabs fistfuls of your ass as he fucks up into you, all of the air leaving your lungs.

His grunts and groans become less calculated and intentional, thrusts becoming sloppier and instinctual. You squeeze him tight, toes curling as you already tumble towards your impending high.

“Mierda,” he hisses, strong arms pressing your torso firmly to his. His lips consume your every breath, whine and borderline scream.

“Take it, use me, amor. Dámelo, cariño, and I’ll give you my cum. Take it from me,” he grunts sharply, pressing into you impossibly deeper and faster. Your skin bursts into flames, embers showering your body as he pulls that final high from you. You shutter above him, dead weight against his body as he uses you to finish himself off. He evacuates your warmth and pumps out his load between your sticky, worn out figures with a drawn out groan.

Joel makes the first move to stand up, cock softening and hanging between his legs. He starts to step towards his en suite bathroom to find a towel, but you reach for him.

“I’m just gettin’ somethin’ to clean you up, honey,” he smiles before seeing a sadness in your eyes, longing for him to come back. Tears prickle your eyes and Joel quickly makes his way back to the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay, baby, cálmate,” he hushes carefully, holding you close to him. “We’ll getcha cleaned up in a little bit, I’ll make you whatever you fancy for supper and relax with you, sound good?”

A nod suffices his question, knowing you trust him enough to stay rather than run off eases him as he grounds you back to reality with his warm embrace.

to stay up to date on when I post fics, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications! i hope you enjoyed xx

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: take it from me

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letorip · 15 days

Text

i heard your name

"i heard your name and i'll never be the same”

===+++===

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: after a life of fleeting things, you come to tennessee, and find someone you don’t want to be “fleeting” anymore, though she may come with ulterior motives

warnings: rivalry, references to sex, hints at student-teacher relationships, reader is being used (duh)

word count: 4.8k

A/N: i really really hate the concept of miller's girl as a whole, but i can't deny that cairo sweet is a captivating character psychologically, and that jenna does an absolutely amazing job. inspired by lolita, pale fire by vladimir nabokov, and the movie hot summer nights.

===+++===

You became aware of Cairo Sweet on a hot, sunny school day, one that almost seemed to mock your lack of enthusiasm for the new school in its beauty and the light breeze.

The high school was an ugly building, one that sat in limbo between southern charm and the studious American educational experience seen in the likes of pretentious New England. The decorator had clearly not known which one to pick, but no amount of fancy classrooms or bookshelves and Turkish rugs would make you forget you were in Tennessee of all places.

It would be just as unmemorable and brief as the last, and that’s exactly what you reminded yourself while you waited dreadfully early in the front office, in an uncomfortable yellow plastic chair that had one leg much shorter than the others.

The receptionist lady seemed nice enough, smiling at you all bright and wrinkly like old people did. “So sorry about the wait, dearie. Any minute now, she’ll be—”

“It’s no problem,” you shrugged. “I’m not really in a rush.”

The woman nodded, her eyes melting into little crows feet at the ends. There was a theory you had heard once, that the more wrinkles someone had, the more they had smiled in their life. It didn’t fit many of the crotchety old people you had met, who seemed to have frowns permanently stitched onto their leathery faces, but it definitely fit her. She glowed like a beacon, or twinkled like a chandelier of happiness.

“Are you excited about coming here?" She asked. "Starting the new semester has to be exciting!” The entire time the older woman kept sheepishly glancing over at the door, waiting someone to come in. Whoever was supposed to be guiding your tour was clearly very late.

You had long given up on hoping your mom would pick a spot and stay there. In two more months maybe, she would announce she 'wanted a change' again, and you wouldn't give this place a second thought when you left, just as you hadn't given the last places a second thought either. But you couldn't just say no.

You smiled back at her. "Yeah, kinda. This seems like a good school."

"Oh it's just splendid!" She assured you. "The kids love it here, it's just-" Before she could finish, the office door swung open, and a girl in crazy clothing bustled in, dropping her bag on the floor in the middle of the room and spinning to the receptionist.

“I’m so, so sorry!” She said, visibly dishevelled (though maybe that was just her nonsense outfit) and maybe sweating a bit. “I completely forgot I was supposed to do this!” She laughed. She seemed like one of those girls that were always drunk— not in a sad, alcoholic way, but like they were drunk on life (and maybe alcohol too).

“It’s alright, Winnie. They haven’t been waiting long.” Winnie spun around, noticing you where you sat, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Hi there, I’m Winnie,” she said, holding out her hand with a smile. You stood up and shook it in your own, smiling back. This would all be fleeting anyhow.

“Hi, yeah I heard. (Y/n)."

Winnie tilted her head, giving you a devilish smirk. She was absurdly energetic for it being so early. "Boy, aren’t you cute.”

“And aren’t you really forward,” you laughed.

She shrugged. “I think it’s more fun that way. You got a nickname?"

"Eh," you shrugged. You did, from your mom, but it wasn't worth mentioning when you wouldn't be here that long. "Not really."

"Nooo, you definitely should have one," she said, and you raised your eyebrows at her.

"I'm really good, I think," you said, grinning. "Not the most nickname—able name out there."

"Fine," she shrugged. "Suit yourself I guess. Now c’mon,” said Winnie, sticking her hand out to you. There was a certain glint in her eyes then. “I’m gonna show you every little place in this shitty little school.”

"Winnie, language!" The receptionist scolded her.

"Sorry," she winced.

Winnie dragged you around the halls like that, hand in hand and pointing into classrooms; she waved to the people that she passed. It was decent sized school, with a big cafeteria and gym, but not much else unique to boast except for the few sports fields outside. Your last school didn't have that, but it had been northern Alaska, so it made sense. It was probably hard, what with the snow.

“Boris!” Winnie waved over at a man in a track suit, with a whistle around his neck that all gym teachers seemed to wear. He rolled his eyes, waving back at her. "That's Coach Fillmore," she explained.

“What’ve I told you about that, Winnie?” He asked.

Winnie slipped her red-heart sunglasses over her eyes, flashing him a smile. “Still your favourite though, right?”

“Yeah yeah.” And he turned his attention back to the football field, coffee in hand. Winnie spun back to you, with an almost infectious aura.

"So, why'd you move?" she asked, grabbing your hand again and tugging you back inside. The metal door slammed shut behind you with a loud thud.

"Witness Protection Program," you shrugged as she pulled you around the corner. “On the run from the cartel." She looked at you like you were crazy for a moment, eyes all wide, then you laughed and ruined it. "I'm kidding. Not actually."

"OOooooO, I like you. Cute and unserious. I thought you were going to be all square, but it turns out you can joke," said Winnie, shaking her head at you. "What's your locker number, again?"

You handed her the paper. "She wrote it on here."

Winnie took it from your hand, holding it up to the fluorescent lights and examining it like a slide under a microscope. "Ah, damn. You're on the opposite side of the school from me. Like literally, the exact opposite side. That's good though, right? Your first block is Calc?"

"Uh, no. It's uh..." you stopped, leaning against a wall and sliding your backpack off. You pulled your schedule from the top pocket. "Creative Writing, with Mr. Miller."

Winnie's eyes lit up, and she punched you on the arm. "No, fucking way?! That's my first block too!"

You shrugged. "I'd honestly rather do that than calculus right now, so."

Winnie laughed. "Yeah, you and any normal person." She stopped for a minute. "Are you okay if I go off and get some breakfast before class? Winnie hungee," she said, rubbing her stomach. "I also kind of ditched my friend, and I told her I'd find her."

You nodded. "Go ahead. I'm just gonna find my locker."

"Okay!" She said, giving you a small salute. "See you in class."

===+++===

You found your way well enough, and after fumbling with the big metal lock and struggling to put the code in, could actually open your yellow locker and throw the heavy bag you had been carrying inside.

You could see other kids walking up and opening theirs around you. Their doors had metal magnets and small whiteboards, stickers and posters. You hadn't brought stuff to decorate your locker in four years. Instead, your backpack had everything you carried in it, ready to go at the drop of a hat.

The creative writing classroom was down a hallway that split off near the gym, and luckily seemed less ugly than the rest of the school. The room smelled of pine and paper, which was probably a good sign, and bookshelves and glass jars littered the walls with a bunch of other random things setting the scenery for the big chalkboard and wooden desk in the middle.

Most of the other students were already there when you arrived through the double doors, including Winnie. She stood at one of the front desks talking to someone. When she saw you, she waved, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree even from afar. In her past life, this girl would have been a golden retriever. You waved back then turned away, heading to one of the back desks that put you firmly away from the teacher's line of sight.

Mr. Miller seemed like an alright guy, or just enough of one. He didn't do any cheesy introductions of people, or make you do one of those stupid icebreakers that made you want to die, no— he was straight to the point, with just a splash of drama.

"Hello everyone! This semester my main goal is to make you write. And I mean really write." He paused for dramatic effect, as if he thought it was Dead Poet's Society. "This is not like your other English classes, where you put minimal effort into a 'meh' essay and turn it in, and you're happy with a B. No, I want you to feel something."

After that, you couldn't help but tune him out. He wasn't bad, no. But he was just boring and unremarkable, and anything a high school writing teacher from Tennessee would be, in the way he stuttered or played with the lid of his plastic coffee cup.

He spent most of the class prattling off the syllabus and giving out the first assignment, due in a couple of days. You weren't especially interested in writing as a whole, and even less interested in the prompt of 'write about you,' but you shoved the paper into your backpack and figured you'd give it a shot.

"Mr. Miller?" asked a voice from the front.

"Yes, Cairo?” Mr. Miller said, and you raised your head up, looking to where he was speaking. The hand belonged to a girl with dark hair, and you immediately recognised her as the one Winnie had been talking to before class. She was clearly very smart, with a small stack of books on her desk in front of her.

“Are we talking about ourselves literally, as in our achievements, or as in our emotions and how we feel?” she asked. Cairo looked pretty when she talked, though you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. This was fleeting. It was important to remember that.

“It’s up to you, actually,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning back against his desk. “Whatever really lets me know you.” Boy, how cliche.

When class ended, Winnie bounded over to you with a smile, her school bag tucked under her arm like it had been earlier. “Sooo, how was your first class?”

“It was pretty good, no complaints,” you said, fumbling with your folder and shoving it back into your bag.

“So, listen, do you want to sit with me at lunch? Me and Cairo sit together and you can totally join us if you want,” said Winnie, still as bubbly as ever. She gestured towards the door, and you could see the girl from earlier looking through the books on the bookshelf that stood next to it.

You shook your head. “Sorry, I got invited by a group to sit with them and I already said I would.”

Winnie frowned, pouting cartoonishly with her lower lip drooping. “No worries. If ever again though, me and Cairo would be happy to have you."

You gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Maybe tomorrow."

You ate lunch that day leaning against a concrete wall underneath the football bleachers, with no one else around, a thick paperback in your one hand and a sandwich in the other, headphones over your ears.

===+++===

"Thank you all so much for your submissions," Mr. Miller said, a stack of essays sitting under his arms as he passed them back to the class. The weather of that Friday was much more relaxed, with a smattering of clouds covering up the sun, the way you liked it.

The past three days had been just as uneventful as the last, and you went home each night only to wake up the next morning and stay equally as unenthusiastic, and attempt to bury your face into the fabric of your pillow for another five minutes.

He cleared his throat. "I've decided to do something fun, and kind of crown a 'winner' for the week, if you will." He shrugged. "It's just someone I really was impressed with, and want to recognise so, uh, we'll do this after every writing piece."

From behind the class with your head propped up on your palm, you saw Cairo tensing at his words. It had become clear even through disinterested observation that she cared way more about the class than literally anyone else— maybe even Mr. Miller. She raised her hand first, offered feedback on anyone made to read aloud, and always stayed after. She was probably itching for the recognition and you figured she deserved it too.

Which was why it shocked the hell out of you when Mr. Miller walked right up to his desk, put his hands in his pockets, cleared his throat like he thought it was a drum-roll moment, and announced, "this week I was incredibly impressed with (Y/n)'s writing."

There was no way. You froze, not entirely sure he was talking to you. Maybe he had just mispronounced someone else's name indistinguishably close to yours. Cairo's head whipped around, face equally as in shock. There was no way. Winnie was smiling at you, other kids were staring, and you wanted to die.

"Uh...thanks."

From the other side of the room, Winnie whooped for you, clapping a little, in an awkward way. Someone else let out a cough. Mr. Miller shook his head, and said, "No, thank you. Your writing was really impressive. It made me feel, in a way that was refreshing from some other things I've read."

Cairo whipped back around to gape at him for a moment and then back to you. Then, back to Mr. Miller as he continued. "I don't have much in terms of prizes, but there is a bowl of candy over there, and you can take one if you'd like."

You nodded, standing up and making your way over to the clear bowl. Why the hell not. Writing had never been something you thought you were fantastic at— you had never shared it with anyone since there had been no one to share it with. Your fingers went in, and out you pulled a grape lollipop, retreating back to your seat and popping it in your mouth.

From the front, you felt Cairo glancing at you from over her shoulder, but tried to ignore the raising hairs on the back of your neck with her focus on you. “Okay,” said Mr. Miller. “Turn to your textbooks.”

===+++===

The grape lollipop was still in your mouth at lunchtime, leaning against the concrete wall and feeling the hot Tennessee breeze ruffle against your soft shirt, moving it gently against your skin. It was quiet out, and you had your headphones over one ear, leaving the other one to listen to the trees and the wind.

That's how you heard the footsteps from around the corner, even through your music. You looked up from where your eyes had been tracing the cracks of the concrete and watching the ants walk by into their nearby hill, and there she was.

Cairo Sweet had found you.

She stood a bit down the way, on the path, with her arms crossed right over her chest. Her eyes were just as dark as before, and they bore into yours with a strange carnal desire. It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Uh, hi?" you managed. She didn’t even acknowledge it.

"So, how long are you going to keep lying to Winnie for?" Cairo asked, her voice as smooth as butter on your ears. It was a question that caught you completely off guard in its sincerity.

"Uh— I'm not— I haven't been lying," you stammered. Cairo wasn't convinced; her eyebrows lifted a little, creasing her forehead in disbelief. She took a step, one agonisingly after the other, closing the distance between you two until she stood directly beneath you, staring up through her lashes in a near haunting way. Subconsciously you took a small step back.

"I have a question," she whispered, like it was right in your ears. You could feel your blood rushing to them quickly, and it felt as if everything was happening in an almost sinful daze, slow and burning.

"Yeah?" you murmured back, fighting against the lollipop to speak. It made it harder to swallow.

"Can you smell my perfume?" Cairo asked, and your brain hung off every word that spilled from her lips.

"Yes," You clumsily nodded, eyes shooting down to her perfect mouth as it moved, then up to the freckled apples of her cheeks. You knew you were breathing loudly. "It's lavender, and—"

"—Good," she praised, barely audible in her sickly soft whisper. You nodded again, head feeling heavy. God, this girl. "Good," Cairo said again. You didn't know what to say.

"I want to read your essay," she continued, scanning the bleachers for a moment and then eyes shifting back to you in full force. She had you right where she wanted you. Under her thumb.

"Uhhhh, why?" you trailed off, confused as all hell and letting out an awkward laugh to cover.

"It's good, isn't it?" She asked, challenging you with her stare and a smirk, as if to say she knew exactly what she was doing to you chemically. "I haven't found many I want to read."

"Essays?" You mumbled.

"Good ones," she corrected you, whispering it slowly. Your gaze lowered to her lips again, her lower one caught between her teeth. Her own eyes flew to the lollipop, the stick hanging between you both.

Your breathing hitched when her hand came up, lightly grabbing the end and oh so gently pulling it from your mouth, some of your saliva carrying with it. She twirled it, never breaking eye contact with you as she placed the purple crystalline sugar on her tongue, closing her mouth around it for a moment. Cairo smiled, then pulled it from her lips and placed it back in yours.

You blinked slowly, unsure of what this was but finding it all too addicting to know how to stop it. At the sound of voices in the distance, the spell was broken, and Cairo looked back over her shoulder. You cleared your throat, realising the situation you were in.

"What're you trying to do?" You asked. It wasn't a gentle question, but it wasn't a harsh one either. Part of you wanted her to whisper back something cheesy and romantic. Or maybe you wanted something salacious to come from her all-too-plush lips, and the moment to end with hers on yours.

But instead she just blinked at you. It was like the question had taken her power away; she faltered completely. She frowned, almost frustrated by you asking, and she didn't have an answer. "Just let me know about the essay? I'd really like to read it."

Before you could reply, she turned around and walked away, as if going back to a drawing board far off in the distance. You watched her go, turning the lollipop over in your mouth.

===+++===

I should like to think that when I am older, the places I have been will make me cry. They will not meld together, in one long train; I will not move from car to car, blazing past what it may contain and never stopping to look out the window.

I will slide into a booth or take out a folding chair if I must, and watch the world go by. I will sit atop the mountains or amongst the grains of sand on a beach, and watch my eyes begin to water in the light of the setting sun.

Your eyes scanned over the essay in your hands, flipping through it and looking at all of Mr. Miller's notes. There were only four, and two of them were 'Wow!'. Even knowing he was impressed, you were at a loss for how this could be considered impressive. It was just words on a paper. Not difficult to write them, or copy them down. You were just talking, but on a page.

My mother seems to think I can’t hear her crying through the walls at night, wishing she were different. Her tears keep me up, and I trip and drown in the puddles of her despair, falling through the surface and into the depths hidden beneath, whenever I leave my room. I love her, and she always manages to convince herself I do not. She loves me, I always must convince myself she does.

It was this paragraph that made you hesitate, standing behind your locker door and rereading it over and over in your mind. There was no way you could show this to someone- and especially not Cairo.

And right there, like Cairo was conjured up by your mind, she was walking right past you, bag over her shoulder and book under her arm. You looked at her pass, the voice in the back of your mind whispering the word fleeting into your ear. It had been a week since your uncomfortable conversation (if you could even call it that) from underneath the bleachers, and she was acting weird.

She was almost avoiding you, and it was rather noticeable. Not to anyone else, who were unaware you knew each other existed, but to you, you knew. When Winnie said good morning and Cairo happened to be there, she would glance away, fully aware of you staring at her like a big idiot.

You found your way into the classroom, and Mr. Miller was writing something on the board in big white letters. It said 'MEANING,' and 'SYMBOL' in a smaller script underneath. He turned back when he was done, smiling over at Cairo and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

She always was the class favourite, and it made sense. Even if your writing was enchantingly fantastic, or some other amazing bullshit word Mr. Miller would write in blue pen that made you doubt he could actually read, Cairo was the one who actually tried. "I want everyone," he said, clearing his throat with a grunt, "to find a partner and sit down with them. This is going to be a partner activity."

You froze. Shit. These things sucked when you were the new kid who knew no one. You glanced over at Winnie, hopeful you'd find a partner in her, but she was madly gesturing towards Cairo to get her attention, and it made you smile a bit at the look on her face— until you saw who Cairo was staring at. You. Your smile went away in an instant.

Her brown eyes were staring at you again, sharp and intense. Then she picked up her bag, tucked the books she brought with her under her arm, and made due on her plan to pick you. You sent your glance away, as if to pretend you couldn't tell she was coming for you. And yet when her books landed on the table with a soft thud, you couldn't ignore her anymore.

"Care to partner up?" She asked, pulling the chair back to sit down before you could even answer. From the other side of the room, you could see Winnie staring at you, looking confused as all hell.

"Uh, sure," you managed. Was she just going to pretend you two hadn't shared whatever that was? It seemed to be the case, and it seemed she knew you were uncomfortable. Cairo Sweet almost seemed to relish in doing that to people.

"So, how'd you enjoy your first week here?" She asked, pulling out a notebook and flipping to a fresh page. She leaned forward, crossing one leg over her other.

You shrugged carefully. "It was good. Boring, but good."

Cairo nodded. "This is a really boring town, so that makes sense."

"Yeah..." you trailed off. She made putting sentences together incredibly hard for you.

Mr. Miller's assignment was boring beyond belief, but Cairo sat up straight the entire time he gave out directions, eyebrows lowering a bit or head tilting after every clarification, like she was making a mental reminder to remember that later. You attempted to ignore her, looking over to the bookshelf on your other side out of boredom.

They were all leather bound, in alternating shades of brown and green, and some hardcovers in sheathes intermixed. Finnegan's Wake and Scienza Nuova, Being and Time and Infinite Jest, you recognised and had read them all. Day-long car rides would do that to you, and it was within reading you found a particular solace from your mom screaming along to the radio.

"(Y/n), are you listening?" Cairo whispered over at you, pulling your gaze back towards her. You nodded, even though you weren't. Her leaning in seemed to fill your nose with her smell. It was lavender, and it was overpowering.

She raised her eyebrows at you like she knew you were lying again. "Really? What're we doing, then?"

You blinked. Shit. "Uh...I don't know, sorry," you apologised, feeling somewhat sheepish. Cairo gave you a judging look, and you were starting to feel like maybe she was regretting choosing you as her partner. She sighed.

"It's fine. Do you want to maybe come over on Friday? We can work on the paper," she said, playing with her pencil. You frowned.

"I thought Winnie said there was a party on Friday."

Now Cairo looked confused. "Are you going to that?"

"I thought you were?" You questioned, trailing off. She laughed at that, like it was a funny suggestion.

"No, it's not really my scene. Winnie's the partier," she grinned. "A party animal, even."

You nodded, feeling yourself relax a little bit. "That makes sense. You're probably writing or reading instead or something."

She seemed intrigued. "Is that what you think of me? A nerd?"

"Uh..." there was a certain heat flowing towards your cheeks, and it felt like the room was a million degrees. "A little, yeah."

"Wooow!—" Her voice rose in a mocking offence.

"—No, I don't— That's not!— I—"

"You think I'm a geek."

"Yeah, only because you're always reading and stuff, so," you argued, raising your hands up. She laughed.

"So if you read, that makes you a nerd?"

"That's obviously not what I'm saying, but the normal kids just go home and watch a show or something," you shrugged. A beat of silence passed between you, and you groaned, realising your mistake and dragging your hands down your face.

"'Normal', huh?" She asked. You sent her a glare, only to find her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she smiled at you, taking great fun in making you red. Then, within an instant, as if it had been flipped like a switch, the weightless look in her eyes shifted to something far darker.

"You know," she said, and you found your heart catching in your throat. "I don't only read in my free time. I find other things to do." She was back at a whisper, leaning in towards your ear. Each enunciation reverberated in your ear drums and filled your brain with sinful ideation.

"I actually like to do things over and over. Creature of habit, really," she continued and your eyebrows rose. The classroom felt even more humid than it had before, and some sweat was already forming on your forehead. Mr. Miller stood behind his desk, and you felt hyperaware of how he kept glancing towards the both of you, his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face at the almost voyeuristic display.

The bell rang, and just as if nothing had happened, Cairo stood up, gathered her things, and walked off like she had under the bleachers.

"Wait-" You were left frozen there, watching her go out the door and down the hall. It took another ten seconds of sitting there for the spell she had cast on you again to be broken, but when it did, you shot up.

Clumsily you threw your notebook into your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder and taking off as quickly as you could. You wouldn't let Cairo flee.

She was near her locker, where you found her a few halls down. From over her shoulder, Winnie saw you coming, and sent you a friendly wave. Cairo followed her eyes, turning towards you and eyes widening. She was clearly surprised, crossing her arms over her chest as you walked right up to her and stopped.

"I have a question," you said.

"Ask away," said Cairo.

You nodded, thinking for a moment. "Why'd you pick me as your partner in this?"

She scoffed at this, uncrossing her arms and rolling her eyes like you were missing something obvious. It hadn't mattered how loud the passing crowd around you was. You heard her loud and clear, and it filled you with a sense of warmth that you hadn't felt since "fleeting" was just another word in the dictionary and not a mantra.

"Because, I think you're special," she said, only to you in the crowd of passing kids. You couldn't see Mr. Miller watching you both intently from the far wall, one arm crossed over the other.

===+++===

okay so this may or may not be a series i'm starting, but i at least know there is a part two that's already halfway done. part of what took me so long and why i've been gone for like a month has just been me agonising over every damn word. so. enjoy this bad boy ig? not that much happens in this part, but i promise the next part will be kind of crazy.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #miller's girl

379 notes · View notes

bookshelf-dust · 11 months

Text

all the time

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 7,206

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of alcohol, family drama, best friends to lovers type beat (lemme know if i missed anything, as always)

a/n: this got pretty long, and i’m sorry about that. i put a steve option in my 1k celebration poll, and i haven’t been able to get over it, so that’s what this is. i thought i could try it out. i haven’t really had this much fun with a fic in a long time. i know my steve audience isn’t as big, but i guess there’s a chance someone might like it.

————

The crumbs from your crackers drop into your lap, the crease of your book catching them. You set your spoon back down, flipping the hardback over to ensure no crumb will be left lingering in between the pages.

You’re curled into the end chair at the table, just as always, legs crossed and book nestled against your bare legs. Your parents sit across from each other, talking about whatever, but you aren’t listening.

You dunk a cracker in your soup, holding it there for a moment to let it soak up the broth, before tossing it into your mouth. You continue on this way—alternating between scooping up noodles or chicken and drowning saltines—until you have nothing left but the dregs in your bowl.

You mark the page in your book, tuck it under your thigh. You’re tipping the bowl backwards, drinking the rest of the soup, when your mother says your name loudly enough to tear you from your stupor.

You swallow and wipe your mouth haphazardly with a napkin. “What?”

“Your father and I were just talking about your sister’s wedding.”

You raise your eyebrows, wondering if she’s actually being serious.

“No shit.”

Your father sets his cup down, glaring at you. “Language.”

“Sorry,” you say, though there’s no real meaning in the word.

Your sister has told practically every goddamn person in Hawkins that she’s getting married at the end of the month. Everyone is talking about her wedding. A wedding that you don’t give one singular fuck about.

She’s marrying her high school sweetheart, they’re moving into a sweet new house in the suburbs, blah blah blah. She’s doing the same shit every other peaked-in-high-school woman her age is doing. And you can’t be bothered to care.

Not only that, but you have to be a bridesmaid. You’re not very close with your sister, so her choosing another friend as her maid of honor really didn’t hurt you. Frankly, you would’ve been fine if she’d left you out of the bridal party completely.

None of this is really as spectacular as everyone’s made it out to be.

“Anyhow,” your mother begins, “you know she’s allowing her guests to bring a plus one.” She pauses, and you raise your eyebrows again, not understanding the need for dramatics here.

“Well, she asked if you were going to bring someone, and I told her that you were.”

You push back from the table, entirely too confused. “What?”

“Honey, don’t get so frantic. I didn’t think you would want to be alone, especially considering your attitude towards the entire function.”

You take a deep breath, pressing your fingers into your eyelids.

“I thought you could bring that boyfriend of yours. Actually, that’s what I told her. She’s already put in the name for a place card.”

“Mom, are you out of your mind?”

She gasps, taking a sip of her wine to gather herself. Your father chooses this moment to begin clearing up the table.

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” you exclaim.

Her eyes widen. “What do you mean? I told her you’d bring that boy, Steve. You spend an awful lot of time with him for him to not be your boyfriend.”

You feel like you’re choking on air. Like your dinner is going to come up if she doesn’t cut this out. “That’s because he’s my friend!”

“You’re always with him, sweetie. Much more than I ever was with any of my male friends.” She clearly doesn’t believe that he’s not your boyfriend. Like it’s impossible that he isn’t.

You shove past her and into the kitchen, utterly exasperated. Why are people making decisions for you? Why is your mother suddenly proclaiming to everyone that you’re in a relationship you didn’t even know you were in?

When you turn around from facing the sink, both of your parents are staring at you. “What now? Something else you’ve told the whole damn town about me?”

Your mother reaches out to you, but you brush her off. You’re a little too pissed for any sort of cooing right now.

“I’m sorry I assumed he was your boyfriend, honey. But you have to bring him, or else the family will ask questions and there will be an empty space next to you. Personally, I’d find that embarrassing.”

You push your way out of the kitchen, more than done with this situation. “You’ll be lucky if I even go to the damn wedding. And, personally, I wouldn’t go blabbing about things I’ve just assumed about my own daughter rather than just talking about them with her.”

When you turn down the hall, your father is rubbing his forehead, and your mother is looking at you like you should be grateful for her having assured you have company for the big event.

“This could be good for you!” she shouts, and your only response is the slam of your bedroom door.

In hindsight, of course the slam was childish, but you really can’t believe your mother.

You’ve never been so frustrated with her in your life. And yeah, you’ll go to the wedding, but what gave her the right to do that? This is your life. Not hers.

Normally, you would call Steve about something like this, but shit, you can’t.

Steve. As your boyfriend?

That’s too much for your brain to handle right now. You throw yourself on the bed and call it a night.

————

“So, let me get this straight,” Robin begins, holding up her hands so as to count off your main points. “Your mother just told everyone that you have a boyfriend, that this boyfriend is Steve, of all people, and that he’s your plus one to your bitchy sister’s wedding?”

The countertop is cold when you press your forehead against it. “Yes,” you whine.

You’d gotten up first thing this morning and head to Family Video, needing to spill your guts to the one and only person who would surely match your energy and try to help you handle the situation.

Your arms are laid out in front of you, hands dangling over the edge of the counter and reaching for Robin on the other side. She grabs hold of them and squeezes. “That’s one hell of a pickle you’re in. But! Lucky for you, I’m gonna help you figure it out.”

You squeeze her hands back, only to jerk your head up at an alarmingly fast rate. Robin cringes like you’re going to give yourself whiplash. You’ve just had an absolutely terrifying thought.

“Steve’s not working today, is he?”

Robin tries to think off the top of her head, but there are too many thoughts rambling around in there, so she’s quick to consult the schedule pinned to the wall behind her. She probably could’ve told you the times of each of his shifts if only you hadn��t asked.

“He won’t come in until this afternoon. Three-thirty, to be exact.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Thank fuck. I’m not ready to see him yet. He’s going to notice something’s wrong and then he’ll want to talk about it and then it’ll just be a big fat shit show.”

Robin props her chin up with her hand, elbow resting against the green countertop. “You know, maybe that’s a good thing. He already knows you so well that he’ll probably make a great boyfriend.”

“Robin, what?”

She’s plotting and you’ve never felt more afraid.

“Well, you can’t just not take him to the wedding after all of this, right? It would be ten times messier now that your mom has told all of Hawkins that Steve Harrington is your boyfriend. And you know he’ll agree to go, being ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ and whatnot. Besides, you’ve gotta admit that there’s chemistry between the two of you.”

You go to speak, but she holds a hand up to stop you.

“So you tell him about your little predicament, and maybe he can just act as your boyfriend for the night?” She smiles nervously, shoulders rising in slight fear of your reaction. “You two are best friends, no one’s bound to be the wiser.”

“Robin, are you suggesting that I just fake-date the man?”

She raises her hands in a don’t-shoot-the-messenger gesture. “What’s the harm in it? It’s just a one time thing. You go, you get it over with, and Steve will be there the whole time. It’ll be totally fine.”

You drag your hands down your face, peeking at her through your fingers. This is insane. This is fucking delusional. But it could work, couldn’t it?

A customer comes in, and you step to the side while Robin helps them at the counter. Chemistry? Maybe Robin’s right. Not that you’d ever tell her that.

Last Valentine’s, Steve showed up at your place after dark, flowers in hand, knowing full well that you hate the holiday. “I just wanted you to feel special,” he’d said. “And I love you and everything.” You’ve been saying that to each other for forever it seems. And you mean it. He’s your best friend. But now you’re wondering if maybe he means it in a different way. Or if that’s just what you want to think.

Steve doesn’t know that you pressed a few of the flowers to keep, or that you’ve saved the stubs from the movies you’ve seen together. You think about how he holds your hand on the way up the theater stairs, keeping you from tripping and spilling popcorn everywhere. How he offers to go out with you when you need to be away from home, not wanting to leave you alone. That he takes your bag from you the second he notices you adjusting it, straps digging into your shoulder.

Your hands start to sweat, and you feel like this could either go just as Robin’s told you, or it could go really fucking badly.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Robin’s voice breaks you out of your stupor. She’s waving her hand in front of your face.

“Listen honey, I can see your brain working from here. I know you’re coming up with every possible way that this could go wrong. Just talk to him! It might go really well. You never know.”

Robin boops you on the nose and starts to walk towards the staff room. It’s her way of signaling that you need to get your shit together.

“Good luck! I love you!”

You grab your keys and make for the door, flipping her off as you go. She only blows a kiss in response.

————

You’d been pacing your room when Steve called and offered to take you to the bookstore. Really he just wanted to spend time with you, and you needed to spill your guts. You spent an hour contemplating calling him, going over to see him, maybe even just cutting yourself off from him as a whole. In fact, cutting yourself off from the world had crossed your mind, but he’d since prevented that.

Now Steve hovers behind you while you wander down an aisle filled with mystery novels. None of them are catching your eye.

There’s a warmth behind you, and you look up to see Steve. He reaches above your head, one hand on your waist, and pulls something down. He flips it around in his hands before holding it out to you. “What about this one?”

Surprisingly enough it does sound vaguely interesting. “You have to read it after I do.”

He grins. “Yes ma'am.”

And we will read it. You know that he will because he’s done it before. He’s sat on your couch and blabbed about books to you, whining about this character, asking you a question about that plotline. Robin’s voice chirps in your head. Chemistry. Shit.

Steve takes the book back from you. He never lets you carry anything.

You walk further into the store, your feet carrying you to the same places they always do. You end up in a quiet corner, and your heart rate picks up. Not telling him is only hurting you more. You take a deep breath.

“Steve, I gotta tell you something.”

He crosses his arms and leans against the end cap. “Shoot.”

“You know how my sister is getting married?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I’d say I’m familiar with the event.”

You’d smile if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you might puke at any moment. “Well she decided that guests could have a plus one.” Steve hates the way he warms up at that. At the fact that he wants you to take him. He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“Well my mother decided to tell everyone that I’d bring you. As my boyfriend.”

Steve coughs, and your head jerks in his direction. “Your boyfriend?”

You press your hands together. “Yeah. She said she assumed that we were dating because we’re always together, and when my sister asked if I’d be bringing someone, she just told her that it would be you.”

You make eye contact with Steve. His cheeks have gone red. “So naturally, she’s already had your nameplate printed. And now, what I’m saying is that I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend and go to my sister’s wedding with me.” The last part spills out of your mouth faster than you’d intended.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you start to panic. It’s as if you’ve been sent into overdrive, like every sense in your body is on high alert. If this goes wrong, Robin’s ass is grass.

You back into the corner of the aisle, book spines pressing into your back. “I realize I said I need you to do this, but I should have prefaced it by saying that of course you don’t have to, and I don’t expect you to–”

“I’ll do it.”

Steve pushes his hair back from his forehead.

“What?”

“I said I’ll do it. I don’t mind.”

“Steve, are you sure?”

He’s moving into your personal space bubble, hands grasping for your arms where you’ve tucked them behind your back. He pulls them out, hands sliding down your forearms until he’s got your hands in his. His palms are warm, and you can’t help but notice how big his hands are. There’s a ring on his pinky finger too, and it takes you by surprise, considering he’s not usually one for jewelry. You’ll have to ask him about it later, assuming you survive this.

“I’m sure. I’m not just going to let you show up after your mom did all that shit. She’s more trouble than she’s worth, if you ask me. But I promise, I don’t mind. I’ll go and be your boyfriend. I don’t know how good I’ll be, but hey…we’ll see.”

You pull your hand away to smack him on the arm. He winces like you’ve brutally wounded him.

“Don’t you dare say that, Steven. You’d make an excellent fake boyfriend. And a kickass real one. Don’t let me hear that shit again.”

You let go of him and start to walk away.

Steve chuckles. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll beat your ass, Harrington. And you’d definitely lose that one.”

He catches up to you and his hands find your waist again, though he struggles to hold on when you’re continually moving.

“Hey,” he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out at you. “Not fair.”

You look back up at him and reach up to pat his cheek. It’s warmer than you’d expected, and still all rosy. “Sorry, sorry.”

“That’s not very nice of a fake girlfriend.”

You snort. “Ha! I guess my fake girlfriend skills aren’t up to the great Steve Harrington’s standards.”

“You’re being so mean to me today.” He rests his chin on your shoulder while you pick through a sale pile.

“Only yanking your chain, dearest.”

He chuckles, and you can feel his breath against your neck.

You start to wonder if maybe everyone has a point. You do spend the majority of your time with Steve, and you are touchy, but that’s just the kind of person Steve is. You hadn’t realized how much you enjoyed physical touch from another person, even when it’s the most mundane action, until him. Robin is the same way, always holding your hands or leaning on you. They’re spoiling you.

But the more you think about it, the more you realize that you’ve started to crave Steve’s touch when he’s not around. At night when you feel lonely, when you’re staring at the ceiling and letting your thoughts engulf you, you wish he was there to give you a hug. You wish he was there when you’re eating lunch alone and his leg isn’t pressed against yours under the table. You miss the warmth and the weight of him beside you on the couch. It’s like there’s a part of your brain that’s reserved for him, and suddenly you’re worried that this fake dating Steve thing might be the worst decision you’ve ever made.

————

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes, and I’m going to leave this with you until the masquerade is complete so that both of you morons have a reminder of your agreement.”

Robin sits on Steve’s couch, white board in hand. She’s brought way too many markers with her. She decided it would be best if you and Steve had a list of things that are acceptable for your temporary fake romance. She also insisted she be moderator.

“Masquerade? Is that really what we’re calling this?” Steve looks at you.

“No. It’s not.”

“Both of you! Focus!” Robin uncaps a marker and throws the lid at Steve. He catches it. “Now, what kinds of things are okay to do during this little performance? I’m talking, hugging, handholding, kissing, the lot of it. Now shoot.”

Steve looks at you again. “What do you think? This is your family that we’ll be around.”

Your knee starts to bounce.

The majority of your little charade will be during the reception, and having to stand during the ceremony is saving you much more trouble than you’d realized. You never thought you’d be grateful to be a bridesmaid. But now there’s the added pressure of knowing Steve will be watching you then, that your family will be watching the both of you afterwards.

Steve catches your shaking leg and is quick to put a hand out to steady you. He knows you’re nervous.

“See? That’s good. Believable.” Robin is staring at the two of you, or more specifically, at where Steve’s hand rests on your knee.

Steve pulls his hand back. “Okay, so we can hold hands?” you say, questioning yourself already. “You can touch me, like that or like you usually do.”

“I can do that. Hands, arms, back. That alright?”

You start to warm up. “Yeah, that works. What about you? I don’t want to be too handsy or anything but it might be weird if I don’t touch you at all.”

Steve sits back in his chair while Robin scribbles away, her bulletpoints little stars. There are two sides, one for each of you.

“All of that is fine with me too. I really don’t mind, and I think you know I like physical affection. But you know when you like, hang on my arm sometimes? I really like that.”

Robin smiles brilliantly. “That’s good! Makes you look super lovey-dovey.” She jots it down under Steve’s name.

You try not to let it show, but Steve’s words are running rampant in your head. I really like that. He does? You hadn’t realized it before.

“What else?” Robin asks. “Kissing? How do we feel about that?”

“Uh—I hadn’t really thought about it,” you tell her. And you hadn’t. The thought of Steve kissing you at all, other than the top of your head like he’s done before, makes you feel like your heart has just dropped out of your ass. “But I suppose it’d be weird if we didn’t at all, you know?”

You’re looking at Steve, hoping he’ll feel the same way, searching for some sort of consolation.

“No, yeah, that’s a good point.” He’s quiet for a moment before continuing, “What about your cheeks and forehead and stuff? Maybe the face is fair game? And you can do the same for me.”

You wipe your palms across your thighs. Kissing Steve. Steve kissing you. You’re losing your shit.

“Yeah, that’s totally fine. That works.” You’re amazed that you’ve even managed to get the words out.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, you know?” Steve’s expression is soft. You know he’s being serious with you.

“I know. And I don’t want to make you feel that way either. I want this to be a perfectly comfortable evening.”

“And I’m sure it will be!” Robin claps her hands together, setting her board down against the couch cushions beside her.

She stands abruptly. “Basically you’re just behaving like you normally do, but with a little more hands-on action, you know?”

Steve quirks a brow, taking a furtive glance at you. “What do you mean, like we normally do?”

Robin moves towards her best friend and crouches, taking his hands in hers. “Uh…what are you doing?”

“Listen, little Stevie, you’re a touchy-feely kind of guy, and you’re always all over the lovely lady to our left. You can’t deny that.”

“I mean—yeah.”

Robin nods her head. Steve struggles to keep eye contact with her, knowing you’re watching the interaction.

“And you’ve rubbed off on her! She wasn’t really like this before you, Harrington.”

This time he jerks his head towards you. “Really?”

He’s thinking about your hugs, how you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze. About how you always take his hand when he offers it, or how you'll toss a leg over his on the couch. Any other sort of behavior would feel strange.

You feel yourself go all warm. Feel your chest squeeze. You’re forgetting how to breathe. She’s completely right. Steve has brought out a side of you that you swore you didn’t have. The side that longs for affection. Maybe more.

You nod your head at him.

“Yeah,” Robin says, “Most I’d get out of her was some hand holding before you came around.”

She releases Steve from her grasp and rises once again.

“But my point is, you two are going to make a fantastic fake couple. And maybe even an excellent real one.”

Steve face palms. “Robin.”

“Sorry, sorry! Make sure to take pictures for me, alright? I’ll be so sad to miss this happening in person.”

Steve stands, grabbing Robin’s bag for her. “Yep. Alright. See you later, Rob.”

He looks at you with what you’re quite positive is fear in his eyes. He leads her to the door, and you can’t help but chuckle, even if you’re nervous as shit, as he reassures her that there will be pictures, and that you’ll tell her all about it.

————

“Just hang it up on the doorframe, and then you can hold stuff up to it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

You sit cross legged in the center of Steve’s bed, watching him rummage through his closet. He’s going to knock your dress on the floor if he doesn’t quit his frenzy.

You’d told him it wasn’t necessary that he coordinate his outfit with yours, but he insisted, so you brought your dress over for him to see. Steve has a feeling that when he sees you in it he’s going to lose his shit, not that he can tell you that.

“You know, I never thought these would be useful. But I guess your asshole dad dragging you to business events pays off sometimes.”

Steve lifts a bunch of hangers from the rack and pulls them out of his closet, setting them on the bed beside you.

“Fancy,” you say, smirking.

He rubs his hand over his chin, the other braced against his hip. “Yeah.”

You can tell he’s a little frazzled at this. The reminder of dressing himself up to be paraded around by his father—a father who doesn’t spare Steve a second when not in the public eye.

You hate that you’ve made him dig up all these memories.

“They all fit okay?” you question.

He nods, that one insistent lock of hair slipping free. He pushes it back before you have the chance to.

You slide off the side of the bed and stand. You gesture for him to sit and that gets a smile out of him.

After he’s settled, you lift each suit up one by one, seeing which matches the blue of your dress best. You’re only glad that your sister picked a nice shade: a dark, rich midnight blue. The kind you’d be able to spot from far off in a department store and need to take a look.

You get to a sort of soft gray one, and Steve stops you. You hook it up on the doorframe beside your dress.

“I think that looks nice, yeah?”

You walk backwards until your spine meets Steve’s knees. You brace yourself, hands on his calves. His chin meets the top of your head because of how high up the bed is.

“I like it a lot, Harrington.”

He snorts, and you can feel the puff of air against your scalp. He’s warm, his presence all around you. His cologne, maybe his shampoo if you let yourself fall in between his legs. But you don’t. You stand.

“Looks pretty solid to me,” you tell him, though your grin falters just slightly enough for him to catch it.

He puts a gentle hand on your cheek, making sure you keep your eyes locked on his.

“Hey. It’s gonna be great, okay? You’re going to kill it in that dress. Probably kill me, actually,” he laughs. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

“Alright, Steven.” You’re trying not to over-analyze that comment. This is not the time to get sweaty.

He stands up, hand sliding down from your cheek to cover your collarbones. You wrap your arms around his back on instinct, and you swear you see him blush as he moves to encircle you in his own.

“Does being your fake boyfriend mean your incessant picking has only gotten worse?”

You rest your forehead against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat. You think about how nice it might be to do this all the time. What it might be like if he weren’t your fake boyfriend, but your real one.

“Mhm,” you mumble. “I plan on continuing it, too.”

Steve’s hands run up and down your back.

“I look forward to it,” he whispers. There’s a part of you that knows he means it.

————

Steve hasn’t stopped looking at you since you met him at the door to the wedding venue.

You’d run down, more than happy to have company that wasn’t your sister's bitchy bridal party.

He stands with you now, waiting until he’s allowed to take his seat, and you can feel his eyes burning into you.

Not that you’re any better than he is.

His suit fits him just right, and every time he pushes his hair around, you watch his shoulders move under his jacket. It’s driving you insane. And he’s wearing that fucking ring again. Except this time, there’s also one on the middle finger of his opposite hand.

The sun is hitting him just right, turning his eyes this amber color. It’s mesmerizing. You notice then that his tie is the same blue as your dress.

“Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Did you have that? Just lying around?”

He follows your gaze to his chest. No, he absolutely didn’t. He ran out and picked one up in a shade as close as he could get it to yours. Wearing something that felt like a piece of you had his mind abuzz. Abuzz with you.

It’s the same way he feels about these rings Robin bought him. She said you were into them, always talking about Steve’s hands or something. He’s started to like them, but really it’s for you. Most things are.

“Yeah. I found it in a drawer.”

Robin would slap him if she were here. He doesn’t know why he lies, but he does. And then you’re blushing and he’s got to sit down. He squeezes your hand one last time, an encouraging gesture, but one that has so much more buried beneath it.

The ceremony thankfully goes quickly for you, and you’re grateful, hating having to stand up there like you give a shit, like your sister is some saint.

For Steve, it’s the slowest wedding he’s ever been to. You look so fucking gorgeous and he can’t keep it together. He barely even pays attention to the wedding, too busy looking at you. The way your indifference shows on your face, even if you know you’ll hear about it later. The way your hands wrap around the little bouquet you’ve been given. The way the setting sun sets your skin alight, and he thinks that you might truly be the death of him.

When the ceremony has concluded, when Steve is looking for you in the reception hall, he realizes he has to tell you so. You deserve to know how gorgeous you are. He’s beating himself up for having said you looked ‘great,’ and that was all.

You spot him first, and rush to him like you had before, anxious to be near him.

“My mother is looking for me,” you tell him.

“You want to get some air?” His hand finds the small of your back, already leading you away from the crowd and just outside the doors.

“You’re such a good fake boyfriend.”

You suck in a breath of cool air, shake your hands out.

Steve smirks, hands moving up to massage at your shoulders before he even has a chance to give the action a second thought. “Just knew you’d like to get away is all.”

Knew.

The word hits you and you feel like you’ve been slapped. Goddammit, Robin. She’s been in your head all day, and you’ve done nothing but pick up on the little things Steve does for you, the things he seems to know about you, that make him so much more than just a best friend.

You’re fucked.

“Thank you, Steve. For that, and for coming to this. It means a lot to me.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’d do it again.”

He’s looking at you with such fondness, and you have a feeling he wants to say more. You grab hold of one of his wrists, locking your eyes with his in hopes that it will communicate the message. Go ahead.

He exhales. This sort of thing used to be so easy for him, but it’s never been that way with you. He knows it’s because you aren’t just some chick he wants to take out. You’re everything. And he’s fumbling for words.

“I, uh, I wanted to tell you that…” You squeeze his wrist, and he continues, albeit with a shaky voice. “I wanted to tell you that you look beautiful.”

A smile creeps up and onto your face before you can stop it.

“I mean, you always look beautiful, b-but tonight you’re just—stunning. Like, totally breathtaking. Don’t let anyone hear this, but I’d even say you look better than the bride.”

You let out a laugh then, the kind that comes straight from your belly, rich and sickly sweet. It makes Steve laugh, too. He can’t believe you. You’re unbelievable.

“Sorry, Steve, I just–fuck that was so funny.” You straighten up, putting your serious face back on. “Thank you for saying that. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m serious, you know. You’re gorgeous.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, lips warm and plush against your skin.

You go all warm and fuzzy inside. “Thank you, Stevie.”

He smacks another kiss to your cheek, just because he can.

“You look pretty too, you know.”

Steve blushes at your comment, and it’s at this very moment that your mother’s voice rings out, “Sweetie! Come in here, people want to see you!”

Fear flashes across your face, any trace of the sweet flirtiness there seconds before having vanished.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve says, watching you gesture towards your mother, telling her you’re on your way. “Let’s do this, yeah?”

You make eye contact with him, and he grabs hold of your hand, weaving his fingers between yours. “Yeah.”

————

“So, how’d the two of you meet?”

You’re surrounded by a crowd of women, some are your family–your mother and sister–some women you’re not even sure you know.

“School.” Steve saves you from having to speak first. “We went to high school together, but we met through a mutual friend.”

Your mother quirks a brow. “Robin,” you tell her.

“Oh! What a lovely young lady.”

Steve snorts and you slap him on the back. Not that anyone could’ve seen it with how close he’s got you pressed to his side. “Yep,” Steve coughs, “She’s great.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, hoping it’ll give him a moment to suppress his smile. Your sister steps away from her friends, catching the action.

“So, Steve, does she treat you okay? I know my sister can be a bit frantic sometimes.” You watch your mother down the rest of her wine, and you know she’s hoping nothing breaks out between the two of you like it has plenty of times before.

Steve’s arm wraps more firmly around you, his hand coming to rest on your hip. Everyone has their eyes locked on you, waiting, hoping that Steve will spill some sort of secret that they can spread throughout Hawkins like wildfire. Nothing beats good gossip around here.

He squeezes your hip, and for a split second you think the gesture might be possessive. Protective, even.

“She does. Your sister is considerate and thoughtful, and she’s the best woman I know. I’ve never felt more comfortable than I do with her. And if she’s ever frantic, it only helps her deal with me when I’m the same way.”

You feel like you could pass out. Because you know he meant every damn word of that. You know he isn’t lying.

Your sister looks between the two of you. “Well, I suppose that’s good to hear.” Her smile is nothing but insincere when she walks off to greet another wedding guest.

One of your aunts swoops in, and Steve feels you clutch his side a little harder. He has a feeling you’re about to be ridiculed.

“Such a lovely day, isn’t it? You two ever think about tying the knot?”

Steve pinks and your hand slips under his suit jacket, clutching at the fabric of his shirt instead. Is this really the time?

“No,” you pipe up. “I haven’t really given it much thought.”

The woman frowns at you. “Well, isn’t that silly? You better get around to it sooner than later, honey. Take after your big sister. You won’t be young forever.”

You go to speak, but Steve’s already begun. “I’m sorry, but she doesn’t have to get married on anyone else’s terms. Hell, she doesn’t have to get married at all, and I can say that in utmost confidence. Maybe back off, okay?”

Your aunt looks absolutely scandalized, as if she cannot bear to accept what just happened to her.

Steve starts to lead you away from the group. “Come on, baby.”

Baby.

Steve called you ‘baby.’

You don’t have time to analyze that though with the way he’s escorting you back outside. He parks you on a bench and starts to pace in front of you.

“I can see why you didn’t want to do this now. Jesus, are they always like that? I thought my dad’s colleagues were dicks, but my god.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Wait—can you call judgmental ladies dicks?”

You snort and bury your face in your hands. “Yes, Steve, I think so.” It comes out muffled, but he hears it all the same.

When you look up, Steve is staring at you, and he’s much closer than he had been. He starts to say something, but both your mother and sister have shown up, looking for you.

“Sweetie! What are you doing out here?” Your mother looks frazzled, and maybe a little tipsy. You knew your sister would be a bitch on her wedding day, but apparently your mother hadn’t yet realized.

“Escaping the mob.”

“Your aunt isn’t entirely pleased with your behavior, I’ve been told.”

You stand up then. “Honestly, mom, I don’t really give a shit. I came to this wedding, like you told me to. I brought, Steve, like you told me to. And I just don’t care anymore. I’m sick of your bullshit.”

She looks aghast, way more than your aunt had.

You look at your sister, who’s clearly hoping to see you fuck up.

“Congratulations on fucking yourself over. You’ll have a severely depressing marriage.”

“C’mon, Steve.”

He takes your hand, and he can’t help but giggle as he follows you out.

————

“Sweetheart? You comin’?”

You’ve stopped halfway up Steve’s stairs, a far off look in your eyes. He’d brought you back to his place to stay the night, and now that you’re here, it’s like every thought you’ve had about him is fit to burst. This cannot just be a tonight situation. You can’t let this end here.

You drop your dress where you’d been holding it up to prevent yourself from tripping.

“Maybe Robin’s right. About the chemistry.”

Steve’s hands go to his hips. He’s got no idea what you’re on about, but the way you’re looking at him is enough to have his heart rate kicking up a notch. “Chemistry?”

“Yeah. She pointed it out. And she said we’d make a fantastic couple, remember?”

He blushes. He hopes this is going where he thinks it is. Tonight has made him realize how much more you are to him than just a friend. He wants you all the time. “Yeah, I remember.”

Your heart is pounding and you feel like you can’t really breathe, but if you don’t say this now, you’re not sure you ever will.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” He’s never been so stressed in his life. He’s actually starting to sweat.

You exhale and push the words out. “I don’t want you to be my fake boyfriend. I want you to be my real one.”

He coughs, chokes really, and you move up the stairs towards him to make sure he’s okay and not actually sick over the matter.

“Are you sure?” he asks, surprising himself with the ability to speak considering how raw his throat feels.

“Wouldn’t have said so if I felt otherwise, Harrington.”

There she is, he thinks. You really want him. Just like he does you. He can’t believe it.

“Again with the picking. You’re so mean to me.”

You smirk, your hands finding his sides again. You seem to have some attachment to them, and Steve wonders if it’s because you know there are scars underneath. If you’re telling him more than what you can bear to say. Giving him a glimpse of all you have to offer him, all the love you might hope to share.

“I’ll show you mean, you little shit.”

You press your lips against his before you can second guess yourself, before you let that little voice win.

Steve hums in surprise, but it’s clear he’s not upset by the gesture with the way he responds to your touch. His hands find your neck, thumbs stroking over your cheeks.

He’s kissing you back, and fuck if he’s not trying to tell you everything he’s been feeling.

When you pull away for air, Steve’s too greedy to let you go. He pecks your lips once, twice more, and when he really can’t breathe, he peppers your face instead. Now that you’ve given him the chance, he seriously can’t get enough of you.

“Damn.”

You laugh, and push that strand of hair back where it goes, this time getting to it before he can.

You take Steve’s wrist in your hand. It’s late. You hadn’t realized how worn out you were, but you are.

“Can we go to sleep?” you ask, searching his brown eyes. His lashes are unfairly long, but you’ll have to berate him about it later.

“Do I get another one of those before bed?” He’s already hauling you up the stairs, wanting you settled.

“If you’re good.”

————

“So when did it happen?” Robin’s voice is almost accusatory.

“What?”

You’re standing close enough to Steve to ensure that you can hear Robin on the other side.

“When did this love confession take place?”

“That’s not what it was—”

“Just tell me when, dingus!”

“Last night, after we got home. She told me she didn’t want it to be fake anymore.”

“Shit!”

Steve rolls his eyes. You fuss with the belt loops on his jeans, trying to figure out what she’s been up to. “What did you do?” he asks.

“I owe Dustin twenty.”

“You bet on us?” Your voice is loud enough that she hears it, and you know she’s cringing even if you can’t see it.

“Maybe? Yes. I bet that you’d give up the act later than that, that you two would be cowards about it. Figured you’d both wallow in self pity for a while before you just came out and said how you feel.”

Steve looks at you, and mouths: Are you hearing this?

Robin keeps going. “Dustin said you’d come to your senses quicker than that. He bet on the wedding day specifically. Goddamnit!”

You take the phone from Steve, and his forehead meets your shoulder. You can feel the way he shakes with laughter.

“Thanks for having so much faith in us, Rob.”

She chuckles. “What? You’re both extremely good at lying to yourselves. I expected this to be much more dramatic.”

“Mhm,” you start, a plan forming in your mind. Steve can almost feel it. “Hey, Robin?”

“Yes?”

“Just for that, I’m calling in sick for Steve today. That shift is all yours.”

“No. Nononono—”

You hang up the phone. That means there won’t be the buffer that is Steve Harrington to prevent Robin having to interact with Keith. She’ll be stuck with him all evening.

“That was just cruel,” Steve laughs.

You cross your arms. “Oh, so you wanna go in then?”

He smiles at you and holds his arms out. You move into the circle of them. His hands find your waist and squeeze. “No, I didn’t say that. I haven’t had a day off in months.”

“So quit whining.”

“See? I’ve only been your real boyfriend for like, a matter of hours, and you’re still being so mean to me.”

You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his lips. It seems to appease him.

“Was that mean?”

“Not at all.”

You grin and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Mean and a tease. Wow.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “Only for you, Stevie.”

He takes your face in his hands, fingers pushing gently into your skin.

“Damn right.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @clovermunson

#savannah’s fics #steve harringtion #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #robin buckley #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington comfort

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navybrat817 · 9 months

Text

Negotiations

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You meet with Andy to discuss the terms of your potential contract. Word Count: Over 4.2k Warnings: Slow burn, reader is broke (is that a warning?), sugar daddy offer, tension, slight insecurities, negotiations, inner monologue, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Header - yours truly A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thanks!), but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Work felt like the longest shift even though it was only a few hours. You saw the customers through a different set of eyes as you served them. You wondered how many of them struggled like you or what they would do if someone like Andy entered their lives. If you came to an agreement with him on everything, you weren't sure if you'd ever step foot in the diner again after you quit. Not because you were embarrassed.

It was merely time to look forward.

And look my best.

You turned to the side when you checked your reflection. Estelle had way too much fun picking out an outfit for you. After carefully searching and sneakily looking at the price tag so she didn’t splurge, you opted for a sleeveless, blazer style dress. Nothing over the top or too fancy. You still wanted to look like you while looking professional.

Though she insisted it was your birthday gift, along with the surprisingly comfortable black heels, you planned to pay her back. Whether from the money Andy gave you or once you got your paycheck months from now at your new job. If she refused, you’d tell her the only gift you needed was her support and she gave that to you. Like she knew you were thinking about it, she messaged you.

“Good luck! I know you look hot! Knock his socks and pants off! He better give you everything you deserve!”

You had to smile at her enthusiasm. “It’s his office. His pants are staying on.”

“You say that now, but he’s the boss. You’ll change your tune once he has his hands on you.”

Laughing as you tucked your phone away, you couldn’t completely disagree with her. Andy robbed you of your breath whenever you saw him and it surprised you that you could maintain logical thinking when he was close by. You had to maintain that rational headspace today. He was a man used to people telling him what he wanted to hear. As an ex-lawyer and businessman, he could sway things in his favor if you weren’t careful.

Considering what he was offering you, it didn’t once feel like he was taking advantage of your misfortunes.

You stopped yourself from messaging Andy that you were on your way. He was a busy man with more important stuff to deal with than a check-in from you. It would be one of the topics of discussion shortly anyhow. Would he want to know where you are at all times or would he be content with the occasional message?

How much control will he want over me? How much do I want to give him?

Thanking and paying the cab driver as you arrived at the building, you didn't feel as out of your element the way you did at the restaurant. The office setting was familiar. It was bittersweet going inside though for something that wasn't work or an interview. Maybe this was better.

You held your head high as if it was.

I can do this.

You handed your bag over for the security officer to check while he verified your identification. Satisfied once he double checked your name and ID, he handed you a guest badge and allowed you to go to the elevators. It comforted you that Andy and his employees were safe when they went into his building. You wondered how often you'd be here or if he'd keep you away from his office outside of functions.

You avoided looking at anyone as you got into the elevator, though you felt the eyes of a couple of men sweep over your body. It didn’t matter what they thought. Andy was the only one you wanted to look good for. As you passed by each floor, the more you worried about breaking into a sweat. You shifted back and forth until the door opened.

One step closer.

It took you a second to move your feet forward and turn down the hall. It seemed to stretch on for miles, the door at the end of it was large and daunting. It was like entering the lion’s den, but you weren't afraid. Even if you did pause again before you turned the handle and walked in.

An older woman, Irene according to the nameplate on her desk, sat outside of a set of double doors, giving you a kind smile as she looked up from her keyboard. You didn't let her appearance fool you. Anyone who worked for someone as powerful as Andy likely had thick skin and a "take no crap" attitude.

"How may I help you?"

"Hi. I'm here to see Andy Barber," you replied, giving her your name and inwardly wincing. Of course, she knew you were there to see him. Why else would you be there?

"Yes, Mr. Barber is expecting you," she smiled, pressing the intercom on her desk. "Mr. Barber, your 4pm is here."

"Send her in, please."

It isn't fair that he sounds sexy through a speaker box.

"May I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

"No, thank you," you smiled, following her as she opened the double doors.

This is it.

The office was just as you imagined, the walls lined with a mixture of art and accolades. A small table and chairs sat on one side with a couch on the other. It was elegant, but the man behind the desk drew your attention. Sunlight filtered in through the floor to ceiling windows behind Andy, casting a halo around him as he stood up. A symbol of power and authority in his black suit with the skyline behind him, you found it difficult to take your next breath.

He looks like he was born to be in charge.

"It's good to see you again," Andy smiled, walking around the desk and gesturing to the table. "Why don't we sit over here? Did Irene offer you a drink?"

"Of course, I did, Mr. Barber. And before you remind me, I know to hold your calls," she chastised him, which only made him chuckle before she smiled at you. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."

I knew it. Take no crap.

"Thank you," you said, giggling as you walked to the table. "I like her."

"I do, too. She keeps me on my toes," he said as he pulled out the chair for you. "How was your day?"

"Uneventful," you replied, setting your bag beside you. It was nice that he asked. "How are you?"

"My day was just fine," he said, taking a seat. He had a notepad waiting there, similar to yours.

"That's good."

He gave you a half smile and you debated whether or not to continue with small talk. "Nervous?"

“A little bit,” you said, refusing to lie to him. It wouldn’t start things off on the right foot if you did. “I didn’t have ‘Sugar Daddy Negotiations’ on my BINGO card this year.”

He chuckled, the sound beautiful in the large space. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t either," he joked. "And you don’t look nervous.”

“It actually does,” you smiled. “How do I look?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks growing warmer the longer he gazed at you. While you wanted that to be his reaction, it was somehow unexpected. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, by the way.”

“And I wasn’t taking the bait. I’m telling you what I see.”

“Thank you. This was a birthday gift from Estelle,” you said, smoothing out the dress even though you were sitting. Why you felt the need to tell him, you weren’t sure.

“It’s a beautiful dress, but I was talking about your smile,” he said, his lip tugging in a small smile of his own before he cleared his throat. “As much as I’d like to sit here and continue to shower you with praise, maybe we should save that for another time.”

Your throat went dry at the implication, but you didn't want to get ahead of yourself. “Of course."

"Today is about figuring out our terms and setting expectations. I plan to take notes as we go along, if you don't mind."

"That's fine because I plan to do the same," you explained as you took out your notepad. "I’ve made a list of things I believe we should discuss and agree on before moving forward."

“You’re prepared,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "And getting down to business like last time."

“I do what I can,” you said, glancing at the first item on your list. “First thing is the length of our contract. You mentioned Mr. Huffman’s merger could take a few months, but there’s no definitive timeframe. My proposal is six months or when the job becomes available, whichever comes sooner.”

He considered your words carefully. “I spoke with Scott again and a merger like this may take a minimum of six months due to the range of variables. I propose a year or when the job becomes available. It hopefully won’t take that long, but I’d feel more comfortable if we have more time as opposed to less.”

A year was a long time, but you understood his perspective. “Why don’t we meet in the middle? Nine months.”

“Nine months, but if the merger is still pending at that time, we can revisit the contract and extend it if needed,” he proposed.

“Agreed,” you said, jotting down your notes on your pad while he did the same. “My job. You said I would need to quit and I’d be unable to take another position while under contract. I have no objections to that, but I won’t flat-out quit the diner. I’ll put in my two week notice. If they tell me not to come back, that’s on them.”

“I think that’s the respectable thing to do,” he said, nodding to your pad. “I don’t know where living arrangements are on your list, but I’d like to discuss that next.”

You wanted to discuss your free time since you wouldn't have a job any longer, but you would circle back to that. “Okay. You said over lunch that you’re not comfortable with me staying in my current place.”

“I did and I stand by that. I understand that my building doesn’t guarantee complete safety over yours because anything could happen anywhere at any time, but knowing you’re close by would help put me at ease. I have a loft ready to go and you can treat it as your own place. If something isn’t to your liking, we can change it within reason.”

“Within reason?”

Andy smirked slightly. “I can’t exactly take a sledgehammer to the wall if you want to make the space bigger,” he said, taking out his phone and pulling up an image. “But it’s a nice place. Feel free to swipe through it.”

The photos were beautiful and the living room alone looked larger than your entire apartment. “Is spending time at your place an expectation?” you asked.

“I’d like it if you did for an occasional dinner, but I understand if you'd rather not. I'd also like to meet you once a month outside of contractual obligations to talk.”

Sounds like a date. Is it though?

“I agree to the loft, the occasional dinner, and meeting with you once a month," you agreed. It wasn't overwhelming or demanding. You'd still have a sense of independence. "But I’d like to keep my current apartment. If I take this job in the upcoming months, I can't expect you to cover the loft anymore and I doubt I could afford it even with a decent salary. I’ll need a place to go back to until I find something better.”

"I own it," he said. He wasn't bragging in your mind. He was stating a fact.

"I doubt I could afford your rent then. I keep my apartment."

“Done,” he said after a moment. You were glad he agreed. Your apartment was still yours. “Which is a good segway into expenses. As a reminder, I plan to cover the rent for your current apartment, along with any bills associated with it such as cable or internet. If you prefer to shut those off during the contract, we can. I’ll also cover your cell phone, insurance, credit card bills, student loans, any debt you pay on a monthly basis. Oh, and groceries.”

Tears filled your eyes as he opened his mouth to continue. The more you tried to compose yourself, the more your face scrunched up. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. You hadn't expected to get emotional, but actually hearing him say he’d cover your monthly bills and help you stay on top of everything was unreal. You'd sleep better at night knowing you had nothing to worry about.

I probably look ridiculous.

“Don’t be,” he said gently, handing you his handkerchief so you could dab your eyes.

“I’m just,” you stopped to take a breath. It was okay to be vulnerable. That was part of communicating. “I’ve carried this stress on my shoulders and knowing that you’re going to take some of that weight away is… I’m never going to be able to repay you for that or thank you enough.”

“I don’t expect a monetary repayment nor would I want that. I told you, honey. You're an honest and kind person. Your company is going to be more than enough.”

He sounds too good to be true.

“You say that now, but you'll grow tired of me,” you teased, holding out your hand to give him the handkerchief. “Thank you.”

He shook his head and refused to take it back. “Keep it. And considering I offered a year for this, I know I won't grow tired of your company,” he said, a bit of concern in his eyes as you sniffled. “Are you okay to continue? We can take a break.”

“I'm fine,” you promised, straightening up and feeling lighter, like the weight was already gone. “We were discussing expenses.”

“Yes,” he smiled, gesturing to your outfit. “I plan to take you shopping so you can have a few outfits, jewelry, shoes, make-up, and whatever else you need ready for the planned upcoming events, as well as some dressed down outfits so you’re comfortable when we travel and to spruce up your wardrobe if you’d like.”

Careful. You’re going to spoil me.

“I’m also going to deposit two thousand dollars into your account each month for your leisure,” he added, writing it on his pad as if that was the final say in the matter.

“Two thousand dollars?!” you nearly shouted. You weren’t trying to sound hysterical, but you failed. “I’m sorry, but who spends that much on clothes each month?!”

Andy looked like he was trying not to laugh at the incredulous look on your face. “You don’t have to spend it on clothes. It’s for you to use as you wish.”

“But you’re already buying me a whole new wardrobe AND covering all of my bills and expenses for nine months. I’m assuming you're covering travel expenses, too?”

“I will,” he confirmed.

“Then there’s no reason why I’d need that much money,” you said with a shake of your head. Estelle would probably tease you for not agreeing, but it was too much. “I can’t possibly need more than five hundred a month.”

“One thousand,” he said firmly as you narrowed your eyes. “Humor me, honey. Please?”

You tapped your pen against the pad as you thought it over. You really didn’t see a reason for that much, but you could put any leftover funds each month into savings. It would be good to pay Estelle back.

Plus, how could you argue when Andy gave you a sweet smile?

“Fine. One thousand each month,” you said, ignoring the look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Okay. We’ve discussed the length of the contract, my job, living arrangements, expenses, which includes traveling. How about traveling itself?”

“Is your passport current?” he asked.

“It is.”

“Good. Some of the traveling will require us to go out of the country and you’ll need it handy. We’ll need to coordinate our schedules so you can block off dates in your calendar. We’ll most likely share a suite for any non-local events, but I’m not going to make you share a bed with me. You have my word.”

You nodded as you wrote that down. It was a bit of a surprise that he didn’t expect you to sleep with him. “Thank you, Andy,” you said, pointing at him with your pen. “But I’m planning to tell Estelle about every function, big or small, so she knows where I am. I won’t budge on that.”

“You’re allowed to give her the details. You said you trust her and that she can be discreet.”

You could never picture Andy as a creep, but the confirmation that he wouldn't force you to sleep with him and that Estelle would know what's going on helped you relax. "If I'm not working or going to functions with you, what am I doing with the rest of my time?" you asked.

Does he expect me to be at his beck and call?

"I'm glad you asked. It's your time to do what you want. Relax, hang out with friends, pamper yourself. Minus the days you'll have blocked out in your calendar, the time is yours," he explained, lightly twirling his pen in his hand. The motion momentarily distracted you. "I only ask if you plan to leave the city to tell me, that way I know you're unavailable if anything last minute comes up."

You weren't sure what you were going to do with that extra time. While a nine month long vacation sounded nice, you didn't want it to be all leisure. You needed somewhat of a routine. Maybe you could take some self development courses to prepare for going back to the office.

"That's fair. I don't have any plans to leave the city, but I'll be sure to let you know if I do," you said, hoping you weren't missing anything as you looked over what you had written down. "What if I’m sick or there’s an emergency and I can't be with you?”

“Then you won’t go," he said as a matter of fact. "I’d never ask you to choose between this arrangement and your well-being or family. Depending on the situation, I could miss it to help you.”

That was unexpected. Andy shouldn't have to put you ahead of any of his obligations. The offer though, even if it never came to fruition, warmed your insides. "That's kind of you, Andy," you said softly before you cleared your throat. “The last topic I have written down is sex.”

“No,” he said, something unreadable in his eyes at the suggestion. “Sex is not on the table because I’m not going to pay you for that.”

“Oh,” you said, quickly scratching it off your list. It was admirable on his part, but also slightly disappointing. Clearly you misread some of the signals. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he assured you, placing his hand over yours before you could pull it away. “If I sounded harsh, I’m sorry. I understand sex is an expectation for some arrangements, but it isn’t for me and I would never want you to feel pressured to be physical with me. I also have no judgments against anyone who pays for sex. My preference regarding intimacy is for it to happen organically.”

“I appreciate the explanation,” you said. This was a business transaction to him. That much was clear. But knowing his reasoning behind it did help. “As far as being affectionate at functions, what’s your take on that? Or going on dates?”

“I may have my arm around you or keep you close to my side, but nothing more if you’re uncomfortable with that. If you are, please tell me and I’ll stop immediately,” he answered before a moment of silence stretched on. "You're asking if we're going to go on dates?"

"You mentioned meeting once a month. Is that a date?"

He waited a few seconds before he answered. "It's a chance for us to meet up and talk. I don't want to demand a title for those moments. That isn't fair to you."

It wasn't a "yes" or "no" answer. Maybe after his divorce and not knowing if people genuinely wanted to connect with him, he wasn't interested in the dating scene. "Okay."

He leaned back in his chair with a hum. “You deviated from the sex discussion quickly.”

“You said it wasn’t on the table,” you reminded him. You weren't about to make a fool of yourself by pushing.

“I said I wasn’t going to pay you for sex. I never said sex wasn’t on the table at all,” he pointed out. You jumped to the conclusion that he didn't want it because it wouldn't be part of the contract. “Any discussion we have regarding that, I’d prefer not to be in a contract form.”

“So if it does happen, we’ll work through it together naturally?” you asked, not wanting to get your hopes up.

His gaze softened considerably. “Yes, we would. And I’d hope you’d trust me enough to know I’d treat you well and take care of you.”

"I do," you said.

"But sex and a relationship aren't expectations of our agreement or outside of it," he said, taking his hand away from yours. "I want to make that clear."

Andy driving the point home was what you needed, as saddening as it was. At the end of the day, it was a contract. He was paying you for your company. Surely he didn't want anything else. "Thank you for reiterating that. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss that I missed?"

His expression remained neutral, but you imagined it disappointed him that you shifted the conversation back to business. Wishful thinking on your part. "Yeah. The only other thing I wanted to discuss is the possibility of you having a driver."

"A driver?" you asked. Wasn't that a bit much? "I don't mind taking cabs or Ubers."

"I understand that, but I'd prefer if you had a driver. If you have to meet me for an event and I can't escort you myself, they will know exactly where to go. You also won't have to pay for someone to drive you around if you want to go anywhere."

"But you're paying them," you said.

"My job is to cover your expenses," he shrugged, leaning his head back and reaching up to loosen his tie. You stared for far too long. "Told you I want to take care of you, honey."

You shifted in your seat, hoping he didn't take any notice. "I want to pick the driver," you said, a little more breathy than before.

That poor driver is likely going to be bored for the next three quarters of a year being my chauffeur.

"From a selection of my choosing. They're all trustworthy."

"I'm giving Estelle the details of that, too," you said.

"I expect nothing less," he smiled, catching your eye. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"Not that I can think of," you said.

He tapped the notepad with his pen. "I'm going to have a contract drawn up, but I won't ask you to sign it for a week. This will give you time to back out if you need to and it will also give you a few days to contact me should you think of anything else."

"One week," you whispered. Could you wait that long? What if you did think of something else?

"Until then," he said, standing to walk back to his desk. He came back with a letter sized envelope. "So you know I'm serious."

Your eyebrows shot up when you opened the envelope. It was a cashier's check for two thousand dollars made out to you. He had it ready for you. "Andy, this-"

"I know we agreed on one thousand, but I was set on two thousand before we talked it over. Even if you decide not to move forward with this, I want you to take it."

Afraid you might cry again, you set the check down and stood up to hug him. He stiffened in your hold and you wondered if you overstepped before he exhaled and wrapped his arms around your back. You thanked him already with your words, so you wanted to do it again with a hug. The way he held you in return, it felt like was saying "you're welcome".

And that you weren't alone.

"I wish we could have that dinner tonight," he whispered, his mouth close to your ear. You shivered before you reluctantly pulled away. "Unfortunately, I have to get drinks with a few executives."

"That sounds terrible," you teased, drawing a chuckle out of him. "I should get going then."

"It is terrible," he agreed, making sure you had the check and your other things as he led you to the door. "I'll see you back here in a week at the same time."

"And I'll hopefully speak to you before then," you said, not wanting to sound clingy.

But the smile he gave you was a sign of hope. "I'd like that."

This is going to be the longest week ever.

I don't need to wait a week. I'm signing on the dotted line! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x female!reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber #sugar daddy!andy barber x reader #sugar daddy!andy barber #terms and conditions au #andy barber imagine #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber au #sugar daddy au #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x female!reader #chris evans x you #chris evans

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schemmentis · 1 month

Text

Like I Can

Pt. 2 / Pt. 3

Warnings: Angst, I guess?

Word Count: 2.1k

You met Melissa on what she calls her ‘worst night.’ Just finding out her husband had been cheating on her for God knew how long. In emotional overload and perusing her favorite bar for someone to get back at him with. Even though deep down she knew evening the score so to speak wouldn't really make her feel better.

Regardless, it was what she was doing. She'd enlisted you as her wing woman after you'd chatted awhile at the bar while her eyes roamed over the rest of the establishment. She promised she'd snag you a guy too before she left with whomever she decided was worth her night. You'd quietly informed her you weren't looking for any men. She'd only grinned and told you she'd snag you a woman then.

Melissa had kept to her promise. A burly guy that had an arm around her waist by the time she was introducing you to a woman. She slipped you a napkin with her number on it. A glance at it in your hand with a quickly scribbled note to call her and hang up after two rings a few times if your date turned…well, the words she'd used had you stuffing the napkin into your pocket quickly.

You had only smiled and told her to have fun. You hoped she had someone else's number if her date did anything she didn't want that evening. For your part, you spent a drink or two with the woman she'd found you but didn't go home with her. Though she did give you her number too.

When you got home you saved Melissa's number. You threw away your date’s. You really hadn't been interested in a one night stand. It just wasn't your kind of thing. Melissa had a certain charm though, and you needed to make sure she was alright. You left a text with your name and asked her to text you the next morning just to make sure she was okay.

The text you woke up to had plenty of emojis to tell you just how her night went. You were glad she was safe, and even more glad she didn't give you details past the little emojis. You didn't really need the mental image. Though you couldn't help your mind briefly picturing just Melissa in a suggestive flash of day dream that you quickly blinked away.

Without planning on it, from then you and Melissa became good friends. You texted most days about whatever was going on. You had to talk her down plenty of times when Joe pissed her off in the first few months as she tried to, in her words, ‘make it work’. You learned plenty of Italian swearing and unique insults that you're certain only Melissa could have come up with.

She ended up on your doorstep late one night. Disheveled in a way that was so unlike Melissa. Someone who planned her outfits meticulously and took pride in her appearance. Her eyes were red and swollen as she told you she and Joe were getting divorced. You pulled her into your living room with no hesitation.

You might have met Melissa on her worst night but by now you knew her quite well. It broke your heart for her to hear about the divorce. You knew despite how much she'd been hurt by Joe and did what she could to make him feel the same in return; she did love him.

The thing about Melissa was she didn't love halfway. She loved the Eagles like they were the only sports team that existed and if you asked she'd tell you they were the only ones that mattered anyhow. She loved the kids she taught like each one was her very own. She loved her family ferociously even when they annoyed her. Including her sister that she claimed to hate.

You never said it to her but you're pretty sure Melissa wasn't capable of hating anything. This thought only reinforced the night you'd held her while she wept on your couch. Her hands clutching your shirt in an iron grip to keep you close. Empty promises about making Joe regret ever meeting her and cursing him in every way she knew how. Because even with everything that had happened between them she loved him.

You were there for her however you could be, as much as you could be. You helped her move Joe’s things out of the house once they'd decided she'd keep it. You went shopping with her when she decided she needed to redecorate the entire house. You spent a weekend painting the living room and bedroom. When you asked if she wanted to do anything with the kitchen she'd asked if you were crazy.

It wasn't until a week later you realized the only places in her house that had been redone were shared spaces. You knew how Melissa loved to cook. You'd had your share of the too large portions she had a habit of making and gave you parts of. Joe probably never had much to do with the kitchen.

You do your best to keep her from making hasty decisions. Ones made in the heat of her emotions. Like the evening you'd both been drinking and she said she was gonna go to Joe's apartment and wreck his car with her baseball bat. She’d made it as far as standing in her living room, bat in hand and barefoot in pajamas. You at least got her to laugh when you said you didn't have the money to bail her out when she got arrested.

You have less convincing arguments when she goes searching for one night stands. She convinces you to be her wing woman again. Her good luck charm she called you. You only entertained this once or twice. It was surprisingly difficult for you to see her this way. Even though it was how you met.

You felt something deep and cutting in your stomach every time you went with her. Every time you watched her flirting with men. Every time she would wiggle her fingers at you in a wave goodbye with a wink and smile over her shoulder as she left the bar with a different man.

The last time you'd gone with her you'd ended up drinking until you passed out at home. Melissa had used your extra key to get in to wake you when you never answered her. Convinced you'd gone home with someone else, just like she thought you had every other time. You'd gotten a lecture about making her think you were murdered over the breakfast she made in your small kitchen.

The next time she tried to get you to go with her; you claimed you weren't handling alcohol so well lately. She'd taken the excuse exactly once. It was difficult each week to come up with a new one that she would buy enough to let go. You managed for a while though.

By the time she met Gary, you'd figured it out. What that stab of pain whenever you watched her flirt or leave for a night with her different dates. You hadn't even noticed it had happened. You never planned on it. Melissa was your closest friend, all you had ever been worried about was being there for her. Apparently somewhere in the process, your heart got a mind of its own and fell for her too.

Somehow, the aching stab with Gary is worse. Now instead of different men's names each week you can never remember, it's Gary's. Instead of begging her to remember you really didn't need the details of her sex life, she's telling you about date nights and sweet conversations. Whenever she tells you about what she did while you were apart you don't have to ask who she went with. It's Gary.

You meet him. Of course you do. Melissa likes him enough that she's seeing him regularly. The first real relationship she's built since Joe. Other than you. You remind yourself you don't count in that way.

Gary is…nice. He's different than the guys you've seen Melissa take home in one night stands. Both in looks and personality. From what little you knew of those men's personalities, anyway. But he makes Melissa laugh, a beautiful laugh you've always smiled to hear. Even if she's gripping his arm while she laughs.

Gary is nice. You'd be okay with him if it weren't for the way every time you see him the knife in your chest twists. For the way every time he calls Melissa his girl or compliments her it turns. You'd even forgive the pause and look when Melissa had corrected him when he asked if you had a boyfriend.

Melissa notices. Your distaste for him. She knows you as well as you know her. She calls you on it after the first time you meet him.

“Ya don't like him.” She said, not asked.

You had shrugged and bought your time by pointing out you didn't really know him to know whether you liked him or not.

The longer she's with him, though, the more she sees how much you don't like him. You try to hide it, of course. You know how much she likes him and you're not going to be petty and dig at one of the first things that's made her so happy since you met her. You do what you can to focus on being happy for her.

At the end of the day, Melissa’s happiness is all you really want. You're okay with the knife dug into your chest, really. If it keeps her this happy.

You don't know if it's her knowing how you feel about Gary, or no longer wanting to put the two of you in the same place, but she introduces you to Barbara. The infamous Barbara Howard that Melissa called her best friend and work wife. You'd heard plenty of her. Even a drunken comment that if Barb wasn't already married and Melissa swung that way she'd make her a Schemmenti. You think she was joking. Mostly.

As you get to know Barbara, you think to yourself she already is a Schemmenti. With the years she and Melissa have known each other and been such good friends, it isn't surprising she knows all the Schemmenti lore. Though, she seems surprised to find that you do too. In the beginning, often you recognize the story she's telling you from when Melissa had and you interject with the ending.

Slowly, you and Barbara form your own friendship. Sometimes, Melissa is entirely absent from your get-togethers. Usually for dates with Gary. If Barbara notes your mood is more sullen those evenings, she does you the grace of not mentioning it.

You realize after a few months that you've seen more of Barbara than you have of Melissa. Most of what you know she's been doing lately is through Barb and not from the red head directly. The knife in your chest pulses around the wound it's made. You miss her. Yet you can't bring yourself to reach out to her yourself. You can't decide which feels worse. Missing Melissa or feeling the stabbing push deeper into you when you do see her.

You do something you never thought you would. You make Barb your wing woman. Like Melissa once did you. She's perfectly willing and you push away the thought of how many times she'd done the same for Melissa. She makes you promise to call her in the morning before you leave with the woman you meet. You actually go home with her. You let yourself forget everything but the drinks you've had and the woman in front of you.

You call Barbara in the morning. Well, late morning. You'd slept a bit too much with the hangover you're now severely feeling. You barely have time to say hello before Barbara is apologizing.

“Sorry for what, Barb?”

“I told Melissa.”

You hesitate. You don't love Melissa knowing you had a one night stand but you don't see why that's a reason for the woman to be apologizing to you.

“Well. She'd have probably found out anyway.” You finally say.

“No,” Barbara says. “I told her I couldn't get a hold of you. She's probably on her way there now.”

“Shit,” You curse. Barbara doesn't even chide you for your language.

Your front door opens so fast it bangs against the wall. You turn to see Melissa standing in your living room with her arms crossing over her chest once she sees you stood in the kitchen.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #like i can

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aidemint · 10 months

Text

To Break A Habit | Routine Doesn’t Get You Kisses Like These

Summary: You kinda-actually find out he wasn’t joking about the spider stuff. Okay. But you’re totally cool about it. Totally.

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: Hobie Brown/GN!Reader

Notes: 5 minutes of screentime and i’ve already wrote more about this guy in a week than i usually write about anything in three months jesus christ

Masterpost | AO3 | Part 1 | Part 3

“40081’s got this hoodoo shit goin’ on.” Hobie sighs as he makes his way down the main hall of Spider-HQ, recounting his mission discoveries from days prior. “Some sort of bad luck spell that’s making the world lose its plot.”

Gwen paces beside him, listening intently. “Sinister Six behind it?” she asks with a frown. “Or do you think it’s something else?”

“Not certain,” Hobie responds with a shrug. “But I’m close to catching the anomaly. Things should reset once it’s out of the fabric.”

“Hope it gets resolved soon.” Gwen sucks in a breath from between her teeth. “Miguel’s not looking too happy these days.”

Oddly enough, the mission so far had been almost deceptively easy—three days into the operation Hobie had already located and shut down a multitude of energy pockets emanating from certain parts of the city. A variant of Mysterio or Osborn was bound to show up soon, as the sites were likely siphoning vitality from the dimension. Now he just needed to gather intel about the effects of the magic while playing the waiting game. Luckily for him, he has a direct source.

“Relax Gwendy, it’ll be fine. I even got in touch with one of the locals for—” Hobie starts assuredly, turning to address his drummer, but pauses and swivels around when she’s noticeably no longer keeping up with his stride.

“You what?” Gwen stands frozen in the middle of the walkway, eyes blown as large as dinner plates with her mouth slightly ajar. She readjusts herself with a shake of her head, though her hands and shoulders remain raised and stiff. “Hobie, please tell me you’re not getting to know a civilian. ”

“Then I won’t tell you that I’m ‘getting to know’ a civilian.” A roll of his shoulder and he’s back walking, half-lidded eyes peering at Gwen when she inevitably joins again, bobbing and weaving through a downcurrent flow of Peter Parkers. “And I won’t tell you that it’s strictly for information about the mission.” A coy smile tugs the edges of Hobie’s lips upward. “Probably.”

Gwen looks just about ready to explode at the last quip. “You just told me— Oh my God, you know that, out of everything, is against protocol. Very against protocol,” she hisses, her voice lowering as her lip curls and she leans further into the privacy of only each others’ company. “What will you do when Miguel finds out?”

“You gotta live freely past the propaganda, Gwendy,” Hobie replies nonchalantly, patting a palm on her shoulder as a point of reassurance. “Just think about it.”

The best Gwen can offer him is a wary glance and a moment of hesitation, but he takes it with a grin anyhow. He’s certain she’ll eventually come around—the extent of their friendship isn’t something so miniscule that a few words of indoctrination would ever be enough to turn her.

It’s a nice notion to have, but he unfortunately doesn’t get much time to dwell on it—suddenly, his watch buzzes with an alert.

Hobie checks the device. “Someone’s ringing me, gotta bounce.” A few taps of an orange screen and a twist of a dial, then a portal opens up just shy of his left arm. “Been fun, Gwendy. Don’t blame me if I come back late.”

No matter how hard she rolls her eyes, Gwen can’t help but give into the smile that creeps onto her lips. “Stay safe, loser,” she responds, bumping her fist against his.

“Safe is practically my middle name.” With that, Hobie ducks into the gateway, and disappears.

How the fuck do you accuse someone of having spider powers without sounding like you’ve gone insane? Since morning you’ve been stuck in a cycle of decision-making for a seemingly hopeless situation. You thought the hard part was over after seeing the guy in the costume swing away on white silly string, but the mostly sleepless night and brainstorming the resolution to be had was another beast altogether. What doesn’t help much either is the fact your favorite pair of jeans are now stained to shit because an idiot thought it would be a good idea to trickshot a half-full Starbucks drink into a trashcan you were standing right next to.

Oh, New York, how it surprises you each day. You swear you’ve never had bad luck like this in your life—and now you’re twenty minutes late, punching in your timecard and hurrying to tie on an apron.

Even through your shift the anxiety doesn’t go away, despite how you try to ignore it. Nervous energy bleeds into your work, shaking hands spilling and dropping drinks; your preoccupied mind is nowhere near as focused as you need to be for the rush—you remake a drink three times in a row before being on the receiving end of a tired lecture from an angry customer.

“Something on your mind?” one of your coworkers ends up asking after most of the crowd has dissipated. “Or just tired?”

You’re on the verge of bursting into tears actually, but you manage to stifle it with a deep breath in. “A lot of both,” you mumble in response. You can’t tell her about Hobie, and it’d be too winding to describe the entirety of everything. She’s pretty good at giving looks of pity and she’s already shot you one following the complaining customer. Honestly another one is the last thing you want to deal with right now. “Maybe I should’ve just skipped work today.”

“Don’t worry, we all have bad days,” she offers with a consoling pat on the arm. “How about you just calm down for a bit and take your break? I’ll make you your favorite drink and get a bowl started for you.”

The gesture does ease your nerves, even if only by a little. You sigh, shoulders slumping, and give your coworker a grateful smile. Parting ways then, she returns to her station to honor her word and you make your way to the back to punch in the start of your break.

Exhaustion starts to seep in when you catch yourself staring blankly at the time card machine, watching the hands of the clock tick away second by second. There hasn’t been significant progress in terms of settling the whole “Hobie Brown is a superhero” dilemma, you realize, just a lot of pain and aching on your part. Maybe it’s time to put the matter to rest just for a brief half an hour—you’ll pick it up later. There isn’t even a guarantee Hobie will show up to the shop anyhow.

Yeah, you have time.

The chunk sound of the punch machine brings you back to your senses and you put away your slip before making your way back to the front of the house.

“Drink’s ready and bowl’s on the way. You can enjoy that while you wait,” your coworker chirps, sliding a cup to you when you emerge from the back. You’re just about to voice your thanks before she cuts in again, gesturing to a spot just beyond the counter. “Oh, and someone asked for you. He’s right over there.”

Your eye is already twitching before you even look. But you suppose you hate yourself and the world at this point, because you slowly turn to where her hand points regardless and find the one man you just made a pact with yourself to not think about.

Hobie greets you by name and gives you a friendly wave. Out of courtesy, you force yourself to return in, lips pressed together in a tight smile with the short extension of your hand.

“Heard it was your break,” he says, approaching the glass panel between the two of you. “Mind if I intrude?”

Yes! you scream internally. Yes I do mind very much!

“No, it’s alright,” you end up saying to him, staving off a growing impulse to whack yourself upside the head.

“Sick,” is all Hobie replies with before he retreats to a nearby table. “I’ll be waiting here—don’t rush yourself.”

It’s right about now that you’re wishing he wasn’t so nice and you didn’t like him so much so that this process of confrontation would go about smoother. Your gaze lingers on him and you bite in the inside of your cheek as you think about the validity of what you witnessed yesterday.

The option to not tell him and maintain your chances of still potentially becoming friends like normal exists. Dodging the awry reputation that comes with the manic conspiracy theorist persona is always good. You’ll get over it one day, right? Leave the suspicions behind and assume that the image was just a hallucination brought about by stress; convince yourself that Hobie Brown is just your average British punk-rocker.

But you can’t fight the feeling in your gut, how it burns, and suddenly you’re leaning over the counter, over the glass.

This is a bad idea. “Hobie,” you call in his direction.

He looks up. “Yeah?”

Shit, this is a bad idea. “I have something to tell you.”

“Wah’gawn?”

“It’s… I think it’s a matter best told in just our own company.” You look around apprehensively, a slight crease in your brow. “Mind going somewhere more private?”

Trying your best to ignore the suggestive look your coworker shoots at you from your peripheral, you beckon Hobie to come into the back. Walking through the kitchen, you usher him into the storage pantry and shut the door behind you when you join him.

“I’m guessing we’re not just here to kotch?” Hobie teases with the sideways tilt of his head.

“Unfortunately.” Your gaze lowers to the ground at the admission, fingers finding one another and squeezing. “Been thinking about something for a while.”

Hobie lets the change in the air stew until it thickens before responding. “Ready when you are.” His voice is softer, malleable, lost of all its previous playfulness and replaced with a certain kind of sincerity.

The slightest incline of your chin brings your stare back to him. You wish it served the simple purpose of just admiring the slopes and angles of his face, but your lips part and your curled hand trembles, and it all reminds you of the gnawing insecurity.

“I need you to tell me the truth.” You say it slowly, sincerely, keeping your voice as steady as you can despite the way your heart rate thunders. “Please.”

In your supplication, you aren’t certain how to appraise the extent of your desperation, but Hobie’s gaze does not leave yours. He nods wordlessly, a glint of something in his eye and it looks a lot like deference.

You take it as permission to continue. “When you brought up Parker”—you swallow thickly—“you were talking about something real, weren’t you?”

A beat of silence. There isn’t any external reaction from Hobie, standing as still as he had the moment he stopped in front of you, face lax and hands tucked away in his pockets.

“Ain’t got a Scooby-Doo what you’re talking about,” he says plainly, unfaltering in every word. Even then he doesn’t move, fortress-like in his disposition.

Perhaps he truly doesn’t know what you mean, you think. The chance is present, albeit slim, though present nonetheless—and how tightly you clutch this sliver of hope. But for a moment, in your hesitancy and under Hobie’s untelling stare, doubt creeps in—your palms grow clammy against the material of your pants, sweat assisting the glide of your fingers against one another. Your eyes search those of the man in front of you, wishing his look could change so you could find the courage to ground yourself.

What if you’re wrong? What if it’s all a fallacy, some trick of the light? New York is no stranger to oddities but even this seems too extreme. Coincidental talk of Spider-People leading to an impossible accusation. Fucking Spider-People don’t—shouldn’t—exist. The idea grows more absurd the longer you question it. Peter Parker got the short end of the stick, if there was even a long end in the first place, so what the hell are you doing?

But what if you’re right?

A breath rattles through you. “Hobie.” With a new waver in your voice and a tremble to your hands, you stand unsure of how your conviction bleeds through what you say but you try anyhow. “I know you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I saw a masked man walking on the side of a building yesterday.” The admission comes quickly, riddled with cracks, but you’re entirely too focused on the followup to care. “After the conversation we had about Spider-People, after the whole thing about superheroes, tell me that it wasn’t you up there. Because I saw your— your fucking pins and I’ve never— God, I don’t even know! I’ve never seen something like this.”

Your fists clench, fingers digging crescent-shaped craters into the flesh of your palms. The marks bite, angry red and stinging—perhaps aching even more the absence of Hobie’s response, the seconds you give him to reply.

“Who are you?” Dry—your throat is so dry. Your voice can’t be anything above a whisper with how hoarse the question comes, flaking away with every shallow breath you take.

Silence blankets the both of you then, soundless space a limbo between comfort and unease. Unsure of what to do with it, what to make of the situation you stand in now, you let it hang listlessly, drawing upon an empty room and an even emptier conversation.

It takes a handful of moments for Hobie to even look like he’s processed all that you’ve said. Under your scrutiny, the smallest movement of his eye is the only discernible change to the testament. Whatever goes on inside his head is a complete mystery to you for the few minutes that elapse before he speaks.

Finally, he shifts in his stance. “You want me to just come out with it, yeah?” he asks, not sounding terribly happy, but not as nonplussed as you expected. He sighs when you nod slowly. “Alright. I’ll start from the top, then.”

He tells you his name is still in fact Hobie Brown, and he was bitten by a radioactive spider three years ago. Formerly a runway model, though not a role model, he’s been protecting the streets of his hometown against the PM. When he’s not playing shows, antagonizing fascists, or staging unpermitted political “action-slash-performance art pieces,” he’s out partying with his friends.

“And don’t call me a hero,” he ends with a frown. “Hate the label. Calling yourself a hero makes you a self-mythologizing, narcissistic autocrat.”

When he stops, you have both hands to your temples, pressing down hard. You can deal with his anti-authority spiel just fine—some part of you even agrees with the sentiment—but there is so much to unpack prior to the statement.

“So you— you have actual spider powers? Oh my God?” you sputter, eyes blown wide in an expression of surprise you’re sure looks exaggeratedly dreadful. “What even— that’s— what even are spider powers?”

“Dunno really.” Hobie gives a shrug. “Enhanced hearing, speed, vision, and sticking to walls are the main perks. Also links up to my—”

“Can you shoot webs out of your butt?” you blurt in a sudden horrible realization.

There’s a few seconds of tense silence before Hobie bursts into laughter, arms crossed around his torso to hold himself, shoulders bunched to his ears. The ring of his joy through the air lifts a weight from it and suddenly the atmosphere doesn’t feel as crushing as before.

Witnessing his state, it doesn’t take long for unease to fade away and for you to start softly chuckling with him.

“You’re so jokes,” Hobie cackles, a hand over his eyes as he leans back. A long, shuddering breath tears through him in his attempt to calm down. “But to answer your question, no I can’t shoot webs out of my arse.”

“Thank God,” you breathe, clutching your heart. “Wouldn’t have looked at you the same if you said you could.”

“I don’t think I can look at you the same after you just asked that.”

“Hey, in my defense it was just to get to know you better.”

“I’m sure that’s all it was.” Hobie gives you a pointed look, but is quick to smile after. “Speaking of which, I came in to ask you something as well.”

“Oh?” You blink. The sudden shift in conversation is unprecedented, taking you slightly by surprise, but suspicion is quick to replace your wonderment when you notice a change in Hobie’s features. A squint narrows your eyes. “What are you plotting?”

“Nothing, it’s just I have an excuse now that you know me better.” He pauses briefly, staring at you for a moment. “I wanted to ask if I could know you a little better.”

Your lips purse in confusion at the phrase, forehead pinching. “But you already know me?” you ask, brow raised. “Don’t tell me you forgot everything already.”

“I didn’t,” Hobie reassures gently. “I was just thinking instead of talking over a counter we could do it over dinner? Maybe a movie, if you have the time?”

A beat passes and suddenly realization sets in, drawing all the air out of you. The smallest groan escapes you as you bury your face in your palms, the skin of your neck and cheeks burning hot. Every inch of you seems more sensitive in your mortification—were you always this close to Hobie, and was his cologne always that strong?

“I’m an idiot,” you whisper from between the gap in your hands. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

Hobie supplies a soft chuckle to ease your embarrassment. “You’re not. It came out pretty corny anyways.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting asked out by a guy with spider powers.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

You groan again, a tight breath pressed against your fingers. “You are so lucky you’re cute, Hobie Brown.”

It is as endearing as it is exasperating that you can practically hear how big his smile is. “You free tomorrow?”

“Anytime past five,” you reply softly, slowly inching your hands away from your face to peer at him. “Where should I meet you?”

Hobie’s grin tilts sideways at the query, a new sparkle of mischief brightening his eye. “I’ll come pick you up.”

Dates aren’t exactly a new concept to you—you’ve been on a handful, and they all go about the same. The first time, someone shows up with flowers or a small gift to start the evening right, then you’re whisked away for three hours to some place to hang around and have fun. It’s conventional, it’s safe—sometimes you enjoy the company more than the actual activity, leading to a second or third outing, but there’s nothing too special about the dance you do with routine.

Along this line of reasoning, Hobie crash-landing on your balcony with one of the most ridiculous offers of transportation isn’t exactly the way you imagined your date would start.

“You are not web-swinging me to Manhattan,” you tell him, still inside your apartment, arms crossed and shaking your head vigorously. “I don’t care what you have set up, I’m not gonna risk going splat on the damn concrete.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Hobie pushes playfully. “Promise I won’t drop you.”

You frown, brows furrowing and lips pursing as you glare at him. He returns the look as calm as ever, a slight smile edging the corners of his mouth and stance open in invitation. The way he holds himself has uncertainty creeping to you, forcing out your fervent disagreement in favor of consideration in a rather slick way of persuasion.

Perhaps you should’ve known you wouldn’t win, with the sheer difference in your demeanors. Your staredown continues for a couple of minutes before you sigh, breaking eye contact with a reluctant drop of your chin and a gentle moan of diffidence.

“Can I at least close my eyes?” you mumble, walking out and shutting the balcony door behind you.

“You can do whatever you want,” Hobie replies, sliding on his mask and gloves. “Just hold on tight.”

Stifling a breath when his arm wraps around the small of your back and under your thighs, you cling to his shoulders as he lifts you up and climbs on the railing.

“You ready?” His chest rumbles under your touch when he speaks, and you can only give a small nod in your position, heart pounding against your ribs and face buried deep in the nape of his neck.

Hobie laughs—a deep, warm sound—and then launches off your balcony.

There are no words to truly describe the feeling that swallows you while in freefall. Wind blasts past your ears in violent howls, gravity pulls your figure down but your insides up, and the only thing you have to ground yourself is the feel of Hobie as you clutch him with every bit of strength you possess. Adrenaline thrums through every vein, lighting your nerves on fire and prickling your skin with gooseflesh; even your energy to scream depletes into fueling the rush that floods your senses.

Upon the first pull up, Hobie’s web catching a surface to swing from, your gut lurches and a serrated gasp shudders through you. Your arms pull you impossibly closer to him, fingers clawing to dig deeper into the back of his vest.

“Easy now,” he chuckles, sounding miles away with how loud your heart beats in your ears. “I promised I wasn’t gonna drop you, didn’t I?”

“D-Doesn’t make it better,” you gasp, shivering now that the breeze whips against your back.

“Try to relax—we’ll be there soon.” Though he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, it proves contrary to the way his grip tightens around you with the next swing.

Despite how comforting the gesture is, you find that you can’t relax much while still flying through New York a hundred feet in the air.

After what seems like days of travel, Hobie finally lands on solid ground, giving you a moment to catch your breath before setting you down gently. His arms are threaded underneath yours as you try to balance on shaky legs, knees bent and feeling all too much like jelly for your own comfort.

“I feel like a newborn deer,” you sigh, voice trembling from the withdrawal of adrenaline. Jitters quiver your fingers, lightly chatter your teeth, and shake the thin chamber of your chest. “My God, how do you even get used to this?”

“Gotta learn to trust yourself,” Hobie hums smoothly. “First time’s always a tad tricky.”

You only nod, gaze now pinned to the ground as he gradually guides you forward, step by step, until you’re stable enough to slowly walk on your own. From there, the slightest incline of your head brings your attention to a small spread of food and flowers laid out nicely on a patterned blanket. A warmth comes to settle in your core at the sight, softening your eyes and easing the tenseness in your limbs—contentment reaches you and the stress gained from the ride here begins to fade, if only by a little.

“Hobie, this is so sweet,” you coo, pleasure lightening the tone of your voice.

His rings just as sweetly through the evening air. “Good to hear—would’ve been gutted if you didn’t like it.”

You laugh at the response, casting an affectionate glance at him that just grows fonder upon meeting his charming reciprocation. The bend of his brow, the part and curve of his lips, the crinkle of his eye—all of it has you transfixed for a generous moment, barely able to notice the way your navel aches with longing in your stupor.

The feeling persists throughout the evening, present in every winding conversation and instance of quiet shared between the two of you. It’s rather freeing to be unconstrained by the formalities usually held by the label of a first date and to sense such endearment for the whole of it. There is no talking to only talk—every sentiment has meaning, every word punctuated by some semblance of tenderness; there is no awkward atmosphere brought about by nervous tension—you rest comfortably, leaning back on your hands, as does Hobie, elbows on crossed legs, positioned towards you.

Hours pass by easily in the space, kissing the sky with hues of orange and gold and violet as they bid a teary farewell, trails of light following in the wake of their departure. Yawning clouds push to the east, unlined shapes dissipating with the fleeting luster. Soon, the New York city skyline is only a bleak, black horizon that cradles a half-yolked sun just shy of its surface.

Golden rays grace your skin, full and temperate and real. You’re just about to gush to Hobie about how this is your favorite time of the day when you’re stopped by the shallow movement of his arm.

He shifts to pick the carnation laid closest to your hand, snaps off the longer part of its stem, then tucks it delicately behind your ear. Wordlessly, he adjusts the petals, and grins when they seem to his liking.

You’re practically bursting at the seams when he retracts his hand, fingers ghosting the curve of your cheek on their path back. Heat rushes to your neck, white-hot on a quick shot up to heat every inch of your face. The sensation catches your breath, widens your eye, tucks the tip of your bottom lip between your teeth, and all you can do is sit and watch Hobie as he admires you.

There’s a look in his eye that you hope is reflected in yours, how beautiful he is. The warm vermillion hue of the sun hits his complexion and it’s like there’s nothing else in the world to behold but him.

Suddenly you find yourself reaching for the flowers on the blanket, clasping multiple in one hand and halving the stems with the other.

Leaning forward, palms stained with sap, you place the carnations in each of Hobie’s wicks, uncaring of the smell of chlorophyll or the tremble of your fingers. You only return to your seat and wipe your hands when you finish, the expanse of his head dotted in small blooms, all that’s left of the original bouquet messily cut stems and loose leaves.

A breathy laugh escapes you at the sight, light and happy and bright. “You are so pretty, Hobie,” you whisper, your heart swelling with adoration. “And I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

He smiles. “I’m not going to stop you,” he says, then wraps his arms around you when you crush your lips to his.

You feel you must be drunk on something, but are entirely too far gone to care the slightest bit. Hobie is every bit as soft and warm as you imagined, his hold homely, his scent familiar. Breathing him in, bergamot, plum, and sandalwood filling your lungs, a dreamy sigh stutters out of your nose before you start to move.

The kiss takes on a steady rhythm then, perhaps the easiest thing you’ve had to follow. Each press of your lips against his finds just the right amount of resistance, the feel of his piercing snug as it nudges you in every shift. Your hands find purchase in cupping his face, fingertips smoothing the silver studs that line his ears and thumbs stroking his cheeks.

Hobie’s touch rests just shy of your waist, the bend of his elbows against your ribs, palms flat against your scapula. His chest rises and falls with every breath, a slight hitch in the motion when you crawl to his lap, sitting in the space between his legs.

The two of you share your own pocket of heaven for a minute longer, then with one last kiss, you part. As your eyes flutter open, Hobie slides a hand off your back to thumb your lip, swiping a finger across your bottom one.

You make a questioning noise but remain unmoving as he works, sliding his digit across sensitive skin.

“My lipstick got on you,” he explains when he finishes, showing you black makeup smeared on his thumb. “I liked the look of it, but didn’t know if you did.”

A gentle laugh spouts from you at his kindness. “I’m all for you giving me a makeover next time,” you say with a grin.

Hobie gives a small chuckle back, delight sparkling in his eye. “Good.”

The afterbuzz of the date still tingles the back of Hobie’s neck even hours later. It’s ten o’clock, the moon at highrise and not a single star in sight in the muddy violet pool that overhangs New York. He’s in the middle of a stakeout, monitoring an energy station reopened as bait for whatever, whoever, might come out in response. The task of fully focusing proves rather hard in the wake of remembering the warmth of you as you held him, the brush of your lips against his, and your small gasps of breath, but he tries anyhow.

Hobie’s just finished shaking off the image of your face in the light of dusk when his watch buzzes. He looks down with a frown, noting the peculiarity of receiving a call this late.

“Gwendy,” he greets, an orange hologram of Stacy appearing with the twist of a dial. “What are you ringing me for?”

“Hey Hobie,” she returns flatly, not providing much else before quickly casting her gaze askance.

From her projection, Hobie can gather that something seems off—Gwen’s stance is completely closed, arms crossed and feet together. What looks like nervousness twists her features, pinches her forehead, pulls her lips tight together. She’s never been good at hiding her emotions, but even this seems exaggerated.

Sobriety seeps into Hobie then, the high of hours ago eroding. “Something wrong?” he asks, voice dropping low.

Gwen pauses, hesitating. “Miguel wants you back at HQ,” is what comes from her after a few seconds. “Now.”

“What about the mission?”

“He just says to leave. There’s been some new intel. That’s all I know.” Gwen swallows thickly, her eyes flickering back to Hobie. “See you soon.”

“Alright, see ya.” The hologram blinks twice, then disappears. Hobie taps on his watch to open a portal back to Earth-928, dubiety sinking its teeth into his thoughts. Miguel was ever the autocrat, so he was never quite fond of the guy, but the way Gwen had come to him—with a fresh feeling that extended beyond terror etched in her expression—that doesn’t sit well. He doesn’t need a spider-sense to recognize that something is amiss.

Somehow, he can’t elude the feeling of dread that creeps to him when he’s swallowed by the vortex.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown/reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown/you #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #across the spider-verse #hobie brown imagine #fluff #angst #kissing <3 yeah #miguel o'hara #gwen stacy #i wish this kiss were a canon event i really do #yeah uh hold onto your hats for the last part

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5eraphim · 10 months

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Can I request a oneshot of nsfw yandere sniper x s/o with a predator/prey kink. ;)

Uh, so this one went in a super weird direction- but like, Sniper is sososo hard to write for! I'm sorry if this isn't quite what you were looking for, but I tried my best to incorporate the prompt, while twisting it into something fun to write. Sniper isn't my cup of tea, but with this dynamic- („ᵕᴗᵕ„) I've wanted to write something a little exophilic forever, and this request seemed like an apt enough place to do it! I hope you're ok with the odd way this turned out, and I really hope you enjoy!

In this story Reader is a hunter hired to poach a wild beast terrorizing a local's livestock. But when face to face with the monster their roles reverse and Reader has to try and escape becoming Sniper's newest prey.

Title: Poacher's Pride

Character: Werewolf!Sniper 🦘 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: X (MINORS DNI- YOU KNOW THIS AINT FOR YOU)

Content Warnings: Dub-con, exophilia, mild terato, Dark!Sniper, werewolf, breeding kink, angst-y ending, stalking, yandere, possessive behavior, mates, size difference, forced cuddling/intimacy

Work Count: 5.6k

TIP JAR

MASTER LIST

You were a hunter. This was a fact. No matter how unfamiliar the terrain or how fearsome the prey was, you were the one with a gun, the killer. So long as you had your gun and wits about you, nothing would change this. The less charitable would call you a poacher, hunting down the rarest prey you could find to sell to the highest bidder. Perhaps this was more accurate, but you hardly cared as long as you had enough money to keep food on the table.

Tonight's mission was nothing special, a report of a wild animal feeding on a farmer's livestock and unnatural howling at night disturbing the farm's residents. While you found it unusual that the farmer who commissioned you to kill the beast couldn't identify the species, as you'd expect one who spent so much time working with animals would know their predators by now. But the farmer was an older man, likely a bit superstitious, and feared whatever creature it was preying upon his livestock was some kind of cryptid or supernatural entity. Though you were far too skeptical to really worry about the paranormal as you listened to the farmer recounting his stories of this monster striking every full moon, the other-worldliness of the howls he heard in the night, none of which you paid much mind to, but nodded and let him speak anyhow.

Of course, it was easy to tell yourself you didn't believe in monsters during the daylight, but now that you were staking out alone in the middle of the night, you weren't quite so resolute. Despite your fear, you didn't move from your post; hidden in forest foliage a moderate distance from the livestock's pen, you sunk deep into the shadows. Milky-white moonlight illuminated the clearing around you, filtered through the canopy above. It was a full moon, and whatever it was you were hunting was sure to be out any moment.

You couldn't help but notice the absence of nocturnal insects you were so used to hearing on nighttime stakeouts. You couldn't hear any buzzing from flying insects; no birds were around, nor any other nocturnal creature you could perceive in the darkness. Making you feel all the more alone as seemingly every other living creature knew to keep away from this area while this elusive predator was on the prowl.

The wind rustling trees overhead helped break up the eerie silence that settled so heavily around you. As the wind picked up, you could hear the sheep beginning to bleat nervously, you swore you felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, but you weren't sure the sudden temperature drop was to blame. A tree in the distance swayed noisily, creaking as the wind continued to flow through the forest.

Time moved painfully still, and you worried the night would never end until a twig snapping in the distance caught your full attention. Your head shot toward the sound, immediately noticing movement in the bushes diagonal to where you were hidden.

You steeled yourself, gritting your teeth almost painfully tight, forcing your eyes to remain focused dead ahead on the rustling bushes, waiting at any second for some kind of creature to emerge. You were expecting some massive wolf, or a cougar, or some kind of hulking mammal to crawl its way from the bushes, but when you watched an unmistakably humanoid figure crawling on all fours from the bushes, you couldn't believe your eyes.

What you saw was like nothing you'd seen before, the mere sight of this creature freezing you in place; your mouth went dry as you lowered your rifle from the firing position with shaking hands. The beast sniffed at the air, turning it's head in your direction, eyes shining like shards of flint in the night, making your blood run cold, before turning his attention back to the sheep's pen. His head locked in their direction as he rose from all fours to standing upright, forcing you to realize just how massive this beast truly was. Your stomach flipped as the enormous creature's head tilted back to howl in some kind of hellish, animalistic scream, though disturbingly, with undertones of an unmistakably human-like cry. Like a man imitating a wolf's cry, but far, far more accurately than ought to be humanly possible.

This thing- it wasn't human, a man specifically. It was so massive you were too far away to guess its height, but you didn't need to come any closer to know that while standing on two legs. From the tips of its protruding wolf-like ears to its clawed feet, it was taller than any human you'd seen before. A bushy wolf-like tail flicked back and forth behind him, almost as distracting as the horrific way this creature's legs were visibly non-human, even while obscured under a thick coat of fur.

You were utterly horrified, but you forced yourself to hold your ground, waiting for the monster to look the other way, allowing you to raise your loaded rifle to a firing stance and pull the trigger. The sound of the gun going off cut through the heavy silence of the night, though the sound was nothing compared to the sound of the beast's cry.

To your horror, despite the shot sounding as though it connected with his body, nothing happened. Your eyes were wide with fear and disbelief as you watched the creature turn its head in your direction, eyes narrowing as it growled. With fumbling fingers, you pumped the rifle, firing again to the same effect. Your heart hammered loudly in your ears as you saw the monster continue to growl, not at all fazed by the bullets as it lowered itself to all fours, tail straight out behind before charging in your direction.

Without sparing a second to think about where you were going, you sprinted deeper into the forest. Too blinded by fear to realize how dangerous it was to run back into the woods like this, but currently, the only thing on your mind was getting as much distance between you and the wild animal as you could. You had a decent head start but didn't know how long that would last. Straying from the main path through the woods, you tried to weave your way through the overgrowth to throw him off your scent. While whatever it was chasing you down was much bigger and faster, you tried to use human agility to your advantage, doing the best you could to avoid getting clotheslined by any of the foliage in the forest. Earlier that day, it rained, and water still drenched the leaves and branches, soaking into your clothes as you ran by. But worse was the slick mud and puddles of water covering your track, making it all the harder to keep running as your feet threatened to slip out from under you at any moment.

The thundering sound of footsteps in the distance spurred you on. You were too scared to even look back; hearing the snarling and barking of the creature behind made you afraid enough that you didn't need a closer look. The longer you ran, the less light seemed to reach you; the tree's overgrowth was so dense now, the dark shadows of the forest warping your visibility, making you flinch in terror at the sight of even the slightest motion in the corners of your vision.

It was only a matter of time before the wolf caught up to you. It was inevitable. You were on borrowed time and didn't have much longer. Your fate was sealed when you finally lost your footing. Before realizing what happened, you went from upright, running full speed, to crashing into the dirt. You hit the ground hard, bracing your fall with your forearms, enough to protect your face and head, preventing serious injury, though unable to spare yourself the pain of the impact. For just a beat, you lay motionless, too dazed from the fall to move. While you were lucky you hadn't accidentally knocked your head against something when you fell, you felt the wind knock from your lungs. The feeling is not exactly painful, but struggling to breathe only intensified your fear and disorientation. You were so far from home, and the night so dark the situation felt more like a nightmare than reality.

Initially, you thought you slipped while running, but you soon noticed the feeling of cold metal around your ankle. Still in a daze, you craned your head over your shoulder, looking down at your leg, seeing a silver wire looped around your ankle, a snare. You blinked once, feeling closer to death than ever before, the wild fear flooding your mind now replaced with an icy certainty. You were about to die, and you could do nothing to save yourself now. Weeping bitterly, you saw the shrubs close behind parting, the monster's face for just an instance before you squeezed your eyes shut tight, ducking your head, wrapping your arms around yourself, curling into a little ball, and waiting for the killing blow.

Time stood still as you cowered in fear, listening to the stalking creature drawing closer, knowing you had nowhere to run now. While you couldn't see him, keeping your head down and eyes shut tight, you could smell him. The blood caught in his fur mats, the scent of the forest trapped in his coat, the gore from his hot breath. He was getting closer. You couldn't take it anymore, and as you heard another low growl and felt a clawed "hand" wrap around your leg to pull you closer, your anxiety spiked, making you black out.

For a long while, you were somewhere between awake and sleeping. Too scared and too dizzy to open your eyes or try to "wake up," but still, on some level, perceptive of the world around you. You felt like you were dreaming and silently hoped that if you were dead, the pain was already over, and this feeling of passing away would remain gentle forever.

It was impossible to track time, too woozy to try, too numb to care, but after a while, you realized you weren't moving anymore. Laying in a heap of something soft and dusty-smelling, gingerly easing movement back into your body by groping at the material with your fingers and toes. A fire crackled a short ways away, and the air smelt an odd combination of fresh and stale. And finally, with a little focus, you managed to open your eyes.

Apparently, you weren't dead after all, but you couldn't guess where you were now. Some kind of shack, probably still deep in the woods somewhere. You could hear the rain picking up again outside as tiny beads of rain patted against the windows and tin roof. Fire danced in a fireplace on the other end of the shack, illuminating the chipped paint on the walls and cracks in the plaster.

Your stomach dropped when you realized you weren't alone; sitting in the corner of the room, somewhat obscured by shadows, the werewolf sat staring at you, sitting back on his hunches, his yellow eyes watching you intently as you finally woke up.

Bizarrely enough, you realized the closer you were to the wolf, the more human he appeared. Despite the shaggy hair running down his neck and shoulders like a mane and wolf-like ears, his face remained strikingly human-esque. Aside from his yellow eyes and sharp teeth, of course. He looked almost docile like this, but you didn't dare move.

He crept forward slowly on his hands and knees, making you sit up to push yourself away instinctively, but when you saw the blankets covering your chest fall away, you realized you were completely naked under the covers. Gripping the blanket tight in your hand to protect yourself, you looked at him, bewildered.

"Clothes were all wet. You were shivering… Warm yet?" He spoke in fragments, voice low and almost raspy, as though he'd just started talking for the first time in ages. You weren't exactly in a bed, more so a massive pile of blankets and a few pillows pushed into the corner of the room, but it was better than being back out in the rain. You nodded, watching him perching at the foot of the bed.

In a weak voice, you managed, "Where?"

You were too muddled to find the right words, but he responded. The wolf-man seemed able to pick up on your emotions, even if you couldn't elaborate verbally.

"My den. Other wolves were out. You're safe here." He spoke bluntly. You felt safe assuming while biologically he was, at best, humanoid, he was intelligent enough to communicate and, judging by the dirty shack he called a den, lived a lifestyle not entirely unlike a human's.

"They won't hurt you here."

You didn't respond, just nodded. He was closer now, within reaching distance, but your back was against the wall; you could push away any further, even if you wanted to. His attention dropped from your face to the blankets you were nestled amid, reaching under the blankets until he found your feet while you eyed him wearily.

You tensed when he pulled them closer, pushing away the blankets to expose you from your shins down.

He began to lean down a little closer to your body, making you instinctively back up a little, making him pause, sitting at the foot of the nest frowning, looking at you with an almost child-like pout. "Won't hurt you. Can make it better."

You didn't realize what he meant until he gestured to the laceration encircling just above your ankle, where you caught on the snare. Now that you were really looking at it, it was a bit deeper than you thought, and you'd gotten a few other nasty abrasions from your little game of chase earlier.

Before you could do anything to stop him, you watched him gripping your injured leg in place with one hand as he leaned his head to the wound before running the flat of his tongue over the cut. You jolted, squirming a little in discomfort, but he wouldn't budge, ignoring your whines of distress as he continued to lap against the wounded skin.

Forcing yourself to breathe slowly, convincing yourself there was still some chance you would make it out of the night alive, you stopped fighting him, ignoring how his fangs would lightly scrape against your flesh as he licked up and down your leg. You had to suppress another spike of fear as he gently pulled the blankets away from you. His eyes flicked up from your wounds to your exposed skin for a moment as he continued working. After another moment, he pulled away, and you sighed in relief.

The respite didn't last too long, however, as he only pulled away so he could crawl on top of you, making your eyes widen, hands drawing into tight fists as you were unable to fully mask your rising dread. You held your breath until he stopped moving, sitting on his knees and elbows over your body. Despite the position, you couldn't ignore how bizarrely mellow he appeared. Very calmly leaning down to run his tongue along your shoulder, making you shiver as the wet muscle made contact with the sensitive skin of your neck.

Aside from your fear, you had to strain yourself to keep a poker face and ignore the light ticklish sensation you felt. The feeling of his tongue running along your cheek finally caused a break in your composure. "What the hell are you doing?"

The werewolf cocked his head to the side. "I'm grooming you."

He said it so bluntly, as though it were perfectly normal for humans to give each other tongue baths. While the shock and discomfort had greatly worn off by now, the feeling was invasive all the same.

"Still hurt?" the werewolf asked. You hated how heartfelt he sounded, confused why a predator species would be so caring concerning your comfort and safety like this. For some reason, you almost felt reluctant to ask him to stop as he looked at you with puppy eyes, not understanding why you wouldn't let him get closer to you.

"No, but.." As he watched you, you trailed off, waiting for you to explain yourself. After a beat of silence, he resumed his work. Snuggling his head tight up against yours.

"Don't want this-" You protested, but Harold sounded sincere.

"Won't hurt you." His words were muffled as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling, coddling his face against your hair. You went rigid as you felt him take a test bite against your skin, his sharp teeth just barely scraping against the side of your neck while his hands palmed at your body beneath his. While the nest you were brought to was comfortable enough to work as a human bed, the smell of the dog was too distracting for you to relax too much.

He moved his hands from your chest down to your own hands, clasping them with his own as he brought them from laying limp beside you to the sides of his scalp. Your fingers were instantly lost in the bird's-nest-like mess that was his shaggy mane.

"Keep them here."

He wanted scritches? In an act of morbid curiosity, you allowed your hands to ruffle at the fur, feeling his ears twitching a little as you brushed them with your fingertips. Your fingers moved on their own as they tangled into his hair. His hands dropped as you kept yours in place, and he made an odd, almost humming-moan, his tail beginning to wag steadily as you continued to work your fingers in his hair. When your fingers grazed the sides of his ears a little harder, you watched them twitching a little harder, and you couldn't help but stare, wanting to touch them so badly. He didn't pull away when you shyly traced a finger from the base of his ears to prod gently at the side, nor when you cupped your hand against the soft thing, letting you feel him up with curious fingers, smiling to himself, quite enjoying the gentle touch of another after so much time in isolation before now.

"What are you?" You whispered to yourself, feeling him nuzzle into you.

"Human once, something different now."

You were about to ask what he meant by this when you felt something hard grazing the top of your thigh, making you freeze. He was breathing much heavier now, pressing himself against you a little harder, pushing his pelvis forward to grind against the top of your thigh. You could feel the blankets originally piled somewhat neatly earlier starting to bunch up and the pillows falling to the side and tumbling in different directions. You could hear the sound of cloth tearing and realized it was likely the sound of his clawed feet getting tangled up in the blankets, accidentally shredding them in the process.

"Keep going- C'mon, more! I need more, more!" He begged and whined, still rutting against you, his hands finding yours again, guiding you to keep playing with his hair, scratching him behind the ear, doing whatever you were doing that was driving him crazy.

You felt an unwanted stir as he continued to grind against you, moaning and panting against your neck, into your ear. His hands separated to return to your body, wanting to feel your curves beneath him. As he continued to play with your flesh, you could hear the werewolf inhaling, catching the scent of something, pausing for a moment as he sniffed, his eyes drifting shut as he sighed, practically moaning out loud.

"You like this?" His ears were perked upright, and pupils were dilated as he looked at you expectantly. Feeling blood rushing to your cheeks, you shook your head, feeling too overwhelmed to think clearly. But your reluctance only excited him more. He grinned ferally, mouth opening giving you a quick flash of his sharp teeth as he popped two fingers into his mouth, coating them with spit before pulling them out, watching you with eager eyes as they trailed down your stomach until they halted just above your clit.

Without stalling any longer, you felt his two fingers pressing up against the sensitive nub, feeling your heartbeat increase and blood rushing south as he got a little bolder. Collecting the slick between your legs, using it to glide his fingers in gentle circles against you, making your breath hitch and your body tense up. How in the world he knew how to pleasure another human, you couldn't imagine, but he was doing a damn good job of it. You swallowed hard, he was much more adept at keeping his claws to himself than you imagined, and his fingers felt inhumanly big in the best possible way.

Everything was moving so fast; one minute, you were arching your back underneath him, and the next, you were face down under him. The werewolf pulled away just enough to kneel over you. The feeling of his hands on your waist brought you crashing back to reality, reigniting the fear you'd shamefully forgotten.

Before he could pull you any closer, you inched forward a bit, trying to keep your voice steady despite the wild beating of your heart. "It's not too late, just let me go- Please, if you just let me go, you'll never see me again! I won't tell anyone what I saw!" You pressed your cheek against the blankets trying your best to crane your face to the side and look at him but found no mercy.

"Don't want- you can't leave!" You paused, looking up at him, brows creasing. "Did he almost say he didn't want me to go?" you wondered, noticing how he caught himself, a bit of vulnerability breaking through his intimidation.

"If I let you go. You'll kill me." Before now, even when threatening or intimidating you, there was a note of playfulness to his voice that was gone now. Despite the morbid way the two of you met, he couldn't entirely hide his excitement of bringing a little fresh meat home and, by extension, not having to spend another night alone.

"I-" He didn't give you a chance to defend yourself.

"Tell me again, what were you hiding out in those bushes earlier?"

You were paralyzed with fear, your mind going blank as his yellow eyes narrowed and his voice lowered to an animalistic growl. His lips drew back in a snarl, bearing his sharp canine-like teeth as you felt his hot breath against your bare flesh as he breathed heavily. You wanted to make up some lie about only shooting him because he startled you, but you knew something like that wouldn't work on him. While the beast wasn't entirely a wild animal, he didn't possess a human's capacity for reason. And with a sinking realization, you knew no amount of begging for mercy, logical reasoning, or threats of retaliation would do anything to stop him. You were now just moments away from meeting your fate, and you could do nothing but accept it.

You might've cried if you had any strength left, but not anymore. The best you could do for yourself was close your eyes and try to flinch as you felt him peel away a little, sitting back on his haunches before pushing you over and repositioning you to lay flat on your stomach.

You could feel his saliva and some of your slick still smeared along your sex and inner thighs as he used both hands to grab at your ass, hoisting you up as he positioned himself from behind. Forcing you to bend your knees and arch your back up as he situated himself on his knees from behind. Just the feeling of his head against your core made you squirm in discomfort, though unable to pull away from his hold. You moved your arms from your sides to in front of you, burrowing your head in your forearms. The position was the opposite of dignified, but at least he wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing the look on your face as he took you.

"I can tell you're scared; I can smell your fear, and I can't say I blame you. But let's see if you'll make a better mate than a hunter." You couldn't tell if he was trying to comfort or mock you, as though that even mattered. The feeling of his tip prodding at your core told you, whether he tried to be gentle or not, you'd feel this in the morning.

The thick fur covering his underbelly helped to conceal his size before now, even while hard, but you had a feeling he'd be big. It was so odd to feel an animal's fur against your thighs as you felt an unmistakably non-human cock push inside you. While terrified, you thanked God he'd taken the time to prepare your hole.

While the feeling of stretching around his cock stung, but you couldn't ignore the satisfaction you felt; at last, the emptiness you'd felt was satisfied. You were expecting so much more pain and brutality, but the beast took his time. As though he wanted to make the moment last as long as he could. Given the sound of his labored breathing through grit teeth from behind, you could tell he was trying to hold back. Your thighs spread as you slumped forwards a bit as he pushed inside, making you bite down on your forearm to keep from whining.

"You're So warm! So, so soft inside- hah, S'good" He repositioned his hands from your hips to your back, shoving you down even harder as he pushed all the way inside. He was pushing your chest so hard into the nest it was hard to breathe. You had no idea if he could even tell what he was doing to you or if he was already so blinded by his own pleasure.

His claws pressed a little harder against the flesh of your back, not enough to draw blood, but enough to remind you he could do so in a second if he wanted to. The beast kept one hand on your back, the other sliding forward to meet your own hand. Using his massive hand, he guided yours from in front of you back down to your side before fully seizing your hand, bringing it under your belly, groping downwards and around for a moment until he managed to find your clit.

Forcing your fingers against your clit he growled, "Touch yourself for me. Wanna- I wanna know what you feel like when you come."

Something about the loss of control, the fear and adrenaline overrunning your body, made perverse moments feel sickly exciting. And you didn't hold back much longer, your fingers rubbing circles over your swollen clit as he pulled out and began to rock back and forth. Your body limply moving in rhythm with the overwhelming force from behind.

Your cheek flattened against the blankets as he dug his claws a little harder into your back, raking your bare skin as he began to pick up speed. The pain and pleasure overtook your mind as you felt yourself getting even wetter, your hand moving even faster over your clit. He was already so hard, but you could've sworn you felt him swelling up a little inside you. You didn't want to think about what would happen after he inevitably came inside you. The only thing on your mind now was your own climax, the smell of sex in the air spurring you on, making you hornier, needier, exactly like the wolf behind you.

Closing your eyes, you felt yourself tightening against the werewolf, your muscles acting with a mind of their own as you could feel your climax coming on; the feeling of your body so hot and painfully close to orgasm was driving him wild, knowing he wouldn't last much longer than you. And sure enough, with a breathy sigh of relief, you came. Feeling your body gripping against the werewolf as you grinded yourself against him, riding out your orgasm as long as possible.

The afterglow set in not long after, making the feeling of the werewolf behind you thrusting in and out wildly much more bearable. You gasped out loud when you felt him bust, his seed fucked deep inside your body while you two were momentarily forced to remain connected. Fortunately, this didn't last as long as you feared it would, and not long after his climax, you felt the swelling between your legs going down, giving you enough wiggle room to pull yourself off him. As far away as you could while he was still pressing his weight down on your back.

Feeling a bit more clear-headed after cumming, you began to try and pull further away from the monster behind, but he still had you pinned, and the longer you were like this, the more aware you were of the sting of the scratch marks on your back, making you feel like a cornered mouse under a cat's paw. Thankfully he eventually lifted his weight from behind you, finally allowing you to take a deep breath as he sat back on his haunches, likely enjoying the view of your abused body limp and sprawled out like this in his nest.

After a moment, you heard him shifting behind you, repositioning the pillows and blankets in his nest as you lay face down in the center. He pulled you from your stomach to your side as you instinctively curled into the fetal position. The werewolf propped you against some pillows as though you weighed nothing before sliding into bed beside you, gently coaxing your body from a tight ball to wrap around him, tucking your head under his chin. Burying your head against his chest, you could hear the slow thumping of his heart as his hands smoothed against your back and hair.

Everything felt surreal; the creature you were so certain would end your life less than a few hours ago now had you curled up against him like a teddy bear. Making sure you were comfortable and not smothered by his thick tufts of hair. Your self-preservation instincts told you to let him do as he pleased with you. The last thing you wanted was to provoke him into another round of what you'd just endured. But even without saying anything, you felt his head shift away from you to face you. His brow creased slightly in what appeared to be confusion.

"You're still scared?"

"I don't understand… Why haven't you killed me yet? You're a predator- surely you could've done it by now; what are you waiting for?" You bit your lower lip, hoping desperately he wouldn't take that as a challenge.

"You're not my prey anymore." To your surprise, he didn't sound upset, his voice notably softer than you'd heard all night, as though trying not to frighten you. You wanted him to explain what he meant but were too scared to ask. You let him pull your back under his chin, his fingers twisting around your hair.

"I'll protect you. But if you try to leave me, I'll have to stop you." As quickly as it had come, the softness in his voice was gone.

"We're one now. And the longer you're here, the closer we'll be." You didn't understand what he meant by this. You were still oblivious to what this creature was, and you were too terrified to speculate about what was now inside of you.

"You can't really think we'll be together forever after this, do you?" It was hard to tell if you were trying to convince him of this or yourself.

You wanted to believe he was wrong, a wild animal with no concept of forever, but by now, you knew he was far from entirely bestial. "I… I don't understand."

"We're mates now. We're bonded for life." You were well aware that it was dangerous to provoke him, but despite his bluntness, he sounded notably calm, and you couldn't keep your curiosity to yourself.

"What does it mean to be mates? How can you be so sure we're mated for life?" You had to choose your words carefully, trying your best to avoid saying something like, "your kind mate for life." to prevent the risk of offending him.

"I know so." He was so blunt and sure of himself that it scared you, and you had a bad feeling he wasn't just trying to intimidate you.

For a moment, he was quiet, as though trying to choose his next words carefully. "I've been a lone wolf for years now. It's miserable; I can't go back to that."

He paused again, and you were unfortunately forced to remember the monster curled around you like a fur coat was once a human and, to some unknowable degree, still was. You didn't want to see him as anything but a brute, an animal acting on primal impulses, but you knew this wasn't true. And if you were in his position, spending years as a reclusive creature of the night, forced to live in the shadows like a stray, you might be just as desperate to escape such a purgatory.

"But, I'm not like you; people are going to come try to find me-" The wolf interrupted Before you could finish the thought.

"I won't let them take you. I'll protect you. Keep you here as long as it takes for you to settle."

It wasn't a promise; it was a fact. Just as it was a fact, so long as the werewolf lived, you weren't going anywhere.

539 notes · View notes

misshoneyimhome · 2 months

Note

Inexperienced reader decides to sunbathe in her backyard in the smallest bikini she owns. Unfortunately she locks herself out of her house (no towel) and must ask her neighbor (William) for help like a role-playing and he’s so kind to help cause he’s a lovely neighbor.

I am so sorry babe! I’ve got no idea what I’ve done 😂 truth be told, I giggled a lot while writing this 🙈

Anyhow, I wanted to include your lovely idea, however as I wanted it to sort of fit the timeline of the story, I tried my best to be a little creative 🤍 I hope it worked 🙏🏼

Warnings; 18+ smut; m masturbating, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), cumshot;

Word count; 3.2K

[Inexperienced!reader x Willy]

・✶ ｡ﾟ

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you (the one with the help) I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️

Tuesday had been an absolute delight. The outdoor training session had once again gone smoothly, and to top it off, William had had the opportunity to bring his dogs along.

There was always something special about playing outdoors in front of fans. Every player felt thrilled and excited without the pressure of a match.

However, as the day came to an end and William returned home, unfortunately, you weren't there.

Fortunately for you, you had been invited out for dinner by your colleagues for some social activities, leaving William alone at home.

Not that he minded though. Despite his love for your company, sometimes the peace and quiet after a long day of training and interactions was something he looked forward to.

So after grabbing a bite to eat, enjoying the delicious leftovers you had made sure to leave for him, he relaxed on the sofa, the TV playing reruns that didn't really capture his interest.

Instead, he scrolled through his social media, browsing photos of the events from the past few days, simply relishing in the memories they had created.

However, when one of the photos showed you in your revealing outfit, a sudden spark ignited within him.

It's no secret that you’d looked incredibly sexy during the all-star event, and as he reminisced about the weekend's escapades, his mind slowly drifted to the sexual activities the two of you had indulged in over the past couple of days.

First, there was the teasing; unable to touch each other, yet both of you pushing every button imaginable.

His hand slowly moved to his crotch as he remembered the days filled with your outfits, perfectly hugging your curves, and how you'd been admiring his style at the event.

Then there was the sex following the event. Though it had been fun to tease one another, the moment you finally gave into to each other was beyond heavenly like.

And then, there’d been the jealousy. The rather intense and frustrating moment when your ex suddenly reappeared in your life, intruding on your space, leaving William feeling irritated.

William's hand slid under the fabric of his sweats and boxers, gently grasping his semi-erect cock, as his thoughts shifted to the way you had interacted once back home.

The way he had used your body to release his frustrations, overstimulating you in a manner he hadn't before. But when you used the safe word he had previously mentioned, a rush of guilt washed over him. Despite finding it arousing to use the wand on you, his sole intention was to bring you pleasure. So, he discarded the toy and made love to you, pouring his devotion and emotions into every thrust, guiding you to the climax he always wanted to provide, eventually reaching his own peak and ejaculating onto you.

Just the memory of it could almost bring William to climax once again. But instead, he moved gently, stroking himself slowly as he reclined on the cushions, allowing his mind to wander freely.

He thought about how incredible you always made him feel. Whether it was the tightness of your walls around his throbbing cock or the way your sweet, naughty mouth took him deep, you always made him feel amazing.

His cock throbbed in his hand as he kept his imagination alive, envisioning the different scenarios the two of you could explore together. Toys, new positions, bondage, and much more. Perhaps one day, he'd even surprise you with a delicate outfit to enhance your figure while he fucked you thoroughly.

The possibilities intrigued him, and as William continued to imagine, he let his mind drift while pleasuring himself with closed eyes.

Despite the chilly February weather in Toronto, his thoughts gradually turned to what the off season might hold for the two of you. Dreaming of the possibilities that lay ahead.

As the sun bathed your backyard in its golden glow, you settled onto your lounge chair, relishing the warmth against your skin. It had been a busy week, and this moment of tranquility was exactly what you needed to unwind. With a satisfied sigh, you closed your eyes, allowing the calmness of the moment to envelop you. "Ah, this feels so good," you thought to yourself, "just what I needed to recharge." The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant chirping of birds provided a serene soundtrack to your afternoon of relaxation. "I could stay here forever," you mused, letting yourself drift in the peaceful tranquility of the moment. The worries of the world seemed to fade away as you luxuriated in the sun's comforting embrace, feeling completely at ease in your own backyard sanctuary.

But your peace was short-lived as a light breeze suddenly swept over, and you heard the click of the door closing behind you. Panic surged through you as you realised you'd locked yourself out, dressed only in the smallest bikini you owned, with no towel in sight. "Oh shit, not now," you thought, your heart racing as you frantically searched for a spare key or any way to get back inside.

Heart pounding, you glanced around, hoping for a miracle. But as you surveyed the backyard, dread settled in your stomach. There was no way back in without assistance. Then, with a sinking feeling, you realised there was only one option left: you'd have to ask your neighbour, William, for help. Remembering that he had a spare key from the last time you locked yourself out, where you had decided it was a good idea to have a neighbour to turn to for help.

However, William wasn't just any neighbour. He was undeniably attractive and kind, which caused you to hurriedly pass by him every time you were about to run into each other on the street, knowing that you were slowly developing a crush on him. You had seen him jogging past your house a few times, dressed in nothing but a tight t-shirt and very short shorts, showcasing his muscular thighs. And you couldn’t deny that he had crossed your mind a few times as you pleasured yourself, imagining him being the one to touch you and bring you to orgasm instead of your vibrator.

So, with a small knot of nerves forming in your throat, you braced yourself to knock on his door. With trembling hands, you made your way to his door, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. "This is so embarrassing," you thought to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you knocked, praying that he wouldn't mind your sudden intrusion.

The door swung open, and there stood William, a look of surprise quickly morphing into concern as he took in your predicament. "Hey y/n, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle. He was wearing his usual white tank top, snugly encasing his muscular chest, displaying his chest hair and masculine frame. However, as you stood there with your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, his gaze couldn’t help but linger on you in very little clothing, his lips forming a small 'o' as his eyes traveled up and down your figure.

Though you sensed the slight awkwardness between you, you managed to stammer out an explanation, feeling mortified as you recounted your foolish mistake. "I-I locked myself out, again… and I don't have a towel, and—" you broke off, feeling utterly exposed.

But to your relief, William's expression softened, and he offered you a warm smile. "No worries at all. Let's get you back inside," he said, reaching for his keys.

Gratitude flooded through you as you made your way back to your house, William's presence a comforting reassurance in your moment of distress. The warmth of the sun seemed to linger, matching the warmth you felt in your heart from his kindness.

"Thanks," you offered him a sweet smile as he unlocked your door so you could step inside.

"No problem," he chuckled. "But maybe you should consider having another key lying around," he suggested with a friendly smile.

"Yeah, I know, I just haven’t had the chance to get an extra one made," you let out a small sigh, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear.

Time seemed to stand still as the two of you shared heartfelt laughter, standing in your doorway as you briefly forgot that you were only wearing a tiny bikini.

"Well, good thing I don’t mind when you ask me for help…" William added with another smile, yet you couldn’t help but sense hints of flirtation behind his words.

Shaking off the tension, you flashed him a smile. “And I don’t mind asking you for help…” you spoke softly, your composure slowly relaxing as you found yourself feeling at ease in William’s presence. For a brief moment, neither of you spoke, only the warmth of the summer hanging in the air as your eyes locked onto each other. However, feeling the sudden need to break what might be an awkward moment, you simply blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Ice tea!”

William's expression shifted to confusion, yet he couldn’t suppress a chuckle before you continued.

“I mean, would you like to come in for some ice tea,” you asked nervously, feeling the sweat on your skin not only forming because of the heat but also because you felt so nervous around your good-looking neighbour. “As a thank you.”

And with another light laugh, William just nodded. “Sure, ice tea sounds great.”

As you both stepped into the small open kitchen, you politely guided him to take a seat on the bar stool while you poured him a cold drink.

“Let me just change into something… more appropriate - then I’ll join you,” you flashed him a friendly smile. However, to your surprise, William halted you.

“Why?” He flashed a mischievous glance. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?"

“Uhm, I just figured… maybe I should be wearing a little more… now that I have a guest,” you tried to explain.

“Come on, y/n,” William grinned again as he rose from his seat, taking a step closer to you so you could almost feel his chest. “Am I really just a guest?”

His question caught you a bit off guard, and you had to gulp as he stood so close that your breasts lightly touched him.

Gazing up at his sweaty, summer-glowing face, you tried to form a coherent sentence, wanting to express how he had never just been a random neighbour to you.

“I suppose not,” you managed to speak softly, your voice just above a whisper.

Then with a confident expression, William gently cupped your face and leaned down to connect your lips. And it felt beyond amazing. The way your mouths moved in sync, massaging each other and expressing the desire you held within.

Your hands were eager to feel him as well, exploring his chest as he held you close, his tongue assertively seeking permission to enter your mouth, which you granted him without hesitation.

William could taste the sweet drink you’d been enjoying while sunbathing, mixed with the saltiness of your saliva.

It was everything he’d fantasised about whenever he’d seen you around. And now, he was finally able to satisfy his appetite. The way you had indirectly invited him with your teasing little outfit was intriguing, and when you asked him to come inside, the temptation was too great to resist.

Then breaking apart from the kiss, you both let out a breath of relief, refilling your lungs.

“God, you taste just as amazing as you look,” William complemented you as he held your face close to his. “I bet you taste just as sweet between your legs.” His voice was seductive and filled with desire, yet you felt a certain level of calm under his touch.

Feeling your own small level of confidence peak, you let out a small gasp and looked deeply into his eyes. “Why don’t you find out?” you almost whispered. And you need not repeat that.

With a smirk across his lips, William pushed you, causing you to take a few steps back until your lower back hit your round dining table. And swiftly, he hoisted you to sit on its edge.

You couldn’t help but smile at his passionate behaviour as he once again connected your lips in an eager kiss, feeling your core tingling in mere anticipation.

His large palms quickly explored every bit of skin you had to offer, massaging your breasts through your little top. Yet, he quickly untied the small strings, and the fabric fell away. Though he hadn’t seen your breasts naked before, the tiny top hadn’t left much to the imagination. And following the top, William’s fingers delicately traced down to untie the string on your bottoms, and soon they met the floor as well.

You were completely under his spell. With the warm summer weather, you felt nothing but heat and excitement being so close to William. And it only intensified when he began slowly moving his lips down your neck, lightly biting along the way as he traveled further south and down your torso, paying attention to each nipple. Then, moving past your breasts, William came closer and closer to your needy core, pulsating as it patiently awaited his arrival.

Kneeling in front of you, William smirked as he admired your flushed flesh, already eager for him. Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he prompted you to lean back and support yourself on your arms, as he took a firm grip around your thighs bringing his mouth closer to your core.

Your hand swiftly found his sweaty blonde locks, gently pulling to signal your desire to have him please you. And you didn’t need to wait long before William delved his warm mouth into your centre, causing you to let out a soft breath.

“Oh yes, Will…” you moaned out loudly as his tongue skilfully moved through your folds, flicking your clit and gently sucking the sensitive flesh of your lips. “Oh please, more….”

It was an incredible sensation, having him between your legs, making your core drip as his tongue and lips worked their magic, shifting between teasing your entrance and sucking your sensitive nub. Then, William shifted a little in his kneeling position, smoothly releasing an arm to let two of his digits find your entrance. And gently, he pressed his fingers against your walls, easing them in to meet your heat.

“Yes, Will… mmm,” your moans grew louder as William started pumping his fingers, stimulating your muscles while his mouth remained on your clit, pushing you closer to a pending orgasm.

“Mmm, you taste like heaven, baby,” William mumbled into your core, causing electric sensations to course through your body, sending your mind into bliss.

And as he continued to devote his undivided attention to your cunt, you felt your legs beginning to shake. "Willy," you managed to breathe out, feeling waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You sensed satisfaction in him, as if he were smirking with contentment, making you a mess under his touch. "I'm gonna..."

William gently withdrew his mouth from your warmth and focused on using his fingers to bring you closer to the brink, fulfilling your intense longing.

"Mmm, yes, come for me," he softly encouraged as he pumped his digits in and out, completely coated with your honey. And it didn't take more than a few seconds for you to tilt your head back, closing your eyes as you let waves of ecstasy fill your mind, pleasure surging through your veins, leading you to climax.

"Shit, Will," you deeply breathed, opening your eyes as you gradually calmed down from the intense orgasm. And with a satisfied grin across his lips, William gently withdrew his fingers, licking them clean, before rising from his position.

“You’re so amazing,” he praised you with a chuckle, and as your eyes intensely followed his every move, he pulled the tank top over his head and lowered his shorts, freeing his throbbing member.

You couldn’t help but gasp as you saw how big and thick it was, licking your lips as you stared at the needy shaft, ready to fill you up.

“You want it?” William chuckled darkly, enjoying how you hungered for his cock.

Raising an eyebrow, you flashed him a confident grin. “Oh, I need it.”

And you didn't have to say that twice. Stepping in to stand between your legs, William lined the tip with your entrance, taking hold of both your thighs again. And prompting you to lean back on your elbows, he pushed himself into your depths.

“Oh yes, baby,” he moaned as he felt your tight walls hugging him, harmonising your moans as well, as he started to rock his hips, letting his member stimulate your inside, while finding a steady rhythm and slamming his skin against yours.

Your breasts bounced with every pound, and the sight of you before him was incredibly arousing.

It was scorching hot. You were both covered in glistening sweat, the sun shining into your home, mixing with the heat generated from your passionate sex. Your moans were loud, and with the open windows, everyone in the neighbourhood could probably hear you. But you didn’t care. The way William fucked you so well had your mind in a blurry state, and it was almost too much for you to handle as his big cock stretched your hole beyond anything you’d experienced before. And before long you felt another orgasm approaching.

Falling flat onto the table, you tightened your thighs around William, eager to reach the peak once more as he increased his speed and pushed you closer to the brink of ecstasy. “Yes, Will… yes!”

Then with a few more thrusts, you let yourself surrender to another climax, clenching your muscles around his shaft as you arched your back, closed your eyes, and moaned out his name in capital letters.

You were a wreck before him, and William couldn’t suppress his satisfied smirk as he saw the pleasure he was causing you. However, as he kept up his pace, slamming his hips against yours, he knew he was about to reach his own climax.

“Shit, baby… mmm, I’m gonna fucking come for you,” he breathed out heavily, pounding harder and faster, digging his fingers into your skin as he neared his peak.

“Yes, Willy, come for me,” you moaned under him as your body simply followed every thrust. And with a loud grunt, William let himself give in to the pleasure, pounding a few more times before pulling out and spilling himself onto your stomach.

William opened his eyes as he panted deeply, his mind foggy and his skin covered in sweat as he calmed from reaching his climax.

His hand was firmly wrapped around his cock, holding still as he'd ejaculated all over his lower stomach, his sticky cum sprayed in his pubic hair and covering his hand with white.

“Shit…” he breathed out, having reached a high he’d never experienced alone before. “What is she doing to me…” William muttered to himself with a chuckle before he rose to clean himself up. “I should stop watching so much porn…”

#my asks #18+#Inexperienced!reader x Willy #william nylander imagine #nhl smut #wn88 imagine #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #SlutsforPresidentNylander

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adastrael · 1 year

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Cod: mw ii characters as type of kisses (pt.3)

Pairing(s): gender neutral reader / könig, kim "horangi" hong-jin, alex keller, farah karim

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, talk about anxiety and insecurities

A/N: the last part is finally here! I know most of these guys aren't technically mw2 characters, but I couldn't just leave them out of the fun haha! On another hand, I'm sorry if this seems more rushed than the previous ones, I haven't had the chance to get to know these characters as well as the others yet. Anyhow, thank you for all the love on this series, it means a lot to me! :)

König - "breathy kiss"

One of your favorite things was to share kisses with him. He was always so responsive to your touch, whole body reacting to every slight brush of your skin on his. It felt like he was comfortable enough to show you how he truly felt through them, not even trying to find a way to deny his love. It never failed to drive you crazy in the best way.

If there was someone easy to fluster, it was definitely König. Those times he happened to be confident were limited to when he was out in the field, so during the time you two spent alone together, it wasn't difficult to make him bashful. You tried not to take advantage of his reactions and contain the giddiness you felt when he got into such a state, but it was a feat; he always looked adorable tripping over his words, cheeks a nice shade of red and hands fidgeting as he tried to come up with an answer to you. You couldn't get enough of his shyness, but you made sure to never cross any lines and boundaries you two set up. Sure, messing with him was entertaining, but the most important thing was to never make him truly uncomfortable or upset. Not to mention, you could spend time with him without trying to make him crumble with cheeky words, and have just as a great time — if not even better.

A regular Friday forenoon, the weather was perfect for taking a stroll and visiting the markets nearby your house. There were a few things that needed to be replaced anyways, so you had a good reason to go out, besides the fact that you wanted to enjoy the Sun on your skin of course. Since your boyfriend was back home from his latest deployment, it was natural you wanted to ask him to accompany you. Any chance you had, you wanted to take and spend time with him, especially since he was away from home a lot. However, there was one little problem with that: the company of strangers put him into a heavily uneasy state.

It wasn't correct to say he was terrible with crowds; König always swore he was, but you knew he handled himself just fine. Of course you knew how bad his anxiety spiked when put into situations like that, but from the outside he usually looked like he didn't have a problem in the world — you always made sure to let him know how well he did every time you two went out, no matter what situation he had to ease into. You knew it was difficult for him to read and react to social situations, but he tried his best and you were more than grateful and proud of him. The longer you were in a relationship together, the more often he joined you for outdoor activities, and it made you extremely happy to see him make an effort to become better. And flattered for sure, knowing he wanted to get better at this for your benefit.

So, with the knowledge that he wouldn't say no to you this time either, especially since this would be a short and easy trip, you went to talk to him.

Quickly finding König in your shared bedroom, you softly knocked on the door to get his attention.

"Hey König?"

"Ja?"

"Would you come along with me to the market today?"

Sitting on the king sized bed in his worn out comfortable clothes, he looked so much smaller, no matter the fact that he was a 6 feet something giant of a man. As he started to fidget with his hands a little, gaze directed to the sheets under him, it was hard to resist the urge to join him on the beddings and caress his knuckles to reassure him.

"How far are we going?"

"Just to the end of the street, I only want to visit Dominik's and then Sophia's on the way back."

You knew it was important for him to know exactly where you would be going and who you had to meet, because it helped him prepare mentally in advance. It wasn't a bother to share your exact plans with him in any way, and it made him feel better, so you were always happy to make sure to share the needed information.

After a few seconds of him considering it, pointedly looking anywhere but you, you received a little nod from him.

"Okay."

In your defense, he looked too irresistible sitting there all shy, you just couldn't help yourself; flashing him a bright smile, you skipped over to the bed, gently cupping his face in your hands.

"Thank you. I promise I will be quick."

Leaning in, you intended to give him a chaste kiss, just something to show your gratitude besides words. König seemed to have other plans however: pushing his lips onto yours a little more firmly, he sighed through his nose and made a little sound in the back of his throat. He was usually clumsy when it came to kissing, but this time he seemed to get the handle of things. Pulling back only a few millimeters, gasping for air, then diving back to connect your lips together, his body was slowly melting under your touch, the previous uneasiness leaving him. You loved when he got passionate like this; anxiety absent from his mind, body shivering where your hands wandered, harsh breaths leaving his mouth as he poured his emotions into the kiss. You knew this was a way for him to let all the worries go, to show you how genuinely he felt, and it never failed to make your head fuzzy and heart warm with fondness.

Truly, you could have stayed like that, interwined with him forever, but unfortunately there were still things to do. So, with a gentle hand on his cheek, you managed to pull away. Gazing into his eyes and softly stroking his heated face, König was almost panting into your embrace, quick breaths leaving his mouth and a dazed expression on his face. He really was a beautiful sight to see.

Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin - "hesitant kiss"

He was confident in every sense of the word. His cocky, sometimes too narcissistic attitude should have been annoying, but it looked good on him, fitting if you got to know him. You never noticed a thing he did without his usual courage, not up until you two got into a relationship. Funnily, he wasn't such an egotistical man when it came to showing affection.

Finally finding the motivation to get up from your place on the couch, you popped your joints after sitting for so long. The TV show you've been watching just ended for the night, and as much as you would have loved to stay in a lying position, you still had to shower and get to your actual bed to sleep. It was better to avoid back pain after all.

"Where are you going?"

Looking down at the voice, your boyfriend was blinking bearly at you from between the pillows, clearly having just woken up. He always offered to keep you company while you watched your shows, even when he himself wasn't interested, but that sometimes resulted in this; him sleeping peacefully next to you, tucked under the blankets and pillows. You didn't mind too much to be fair: he was quiet when asleep, the opposite of what he was like when awake. You didn't mean it in a bad way of course, he just had a habit of commenting on whatever you were watching, often making you slightly irritated. Lucky for him that he was good at making it up to you, so it was hard to stay mad at him for long.

"Taking a shower."

"Come back."

You almost laughed at the way he reached his arm out towards you, then let it uselessly flop back onto the couch. You barely understood what he was mumbling, but you had the routine of these nights to help.

"Sorry baby."

"Why not?"

"We can sleep in our bedroom, you know?"

"Please?"

It was rare he begged, so taking pity on his pouting form, you sighed and turned your body back towards him.

"Fine. But what do I get?"

"Come here."

Plopping yourself down into his open arms, Horangi leaned up with the intention of kissing you. Before you could appreciate his affection though, he stopped suddenly, just barely before your lips could have met in the middle. His body went still under you, eyes more awake and blinking uncertainty up at you.

"It's okay, go ahead."

At your soft encouragement, he seemed to come back to himself. Blinking a few times he moved, finally cutting the distance between your lips short.

You knew he was insecure about the scars adorning his face, as much as he tried to hide it. Horangi always acted confident, no matter what he did or who he was with, but when it came to showing you who he really was, sometimes he seemed to shrink into himself and try to hide. You weren't giving up however; he's been doing much better with showing his love openly for you and not letting his insecurities get in the way of his actions, so you were proud of him for trying. You knew it wouldn't get solved from one day to another, but he has already given you much to love and believe. It was only a matter of time before he was his usual self-assured self when it came to kissing you too.

Alex Keller - "passionate kiss"

Any chance he got, he managed to make physical contact with you, one way or another. A hand on the small of your back, an arm across your stomach, forehead resting on your shoulder; you name it and he has done it before. This might have been because of the fact that he spent a lot of time away from home, but physical touch was simply just his love language really. Besides, you didn't mind how touchy he was, enjoying the closeness just as much as he did.

Thankful for the previously cut up vegetables on the wooden board, you turned just in time to catch your boyfriend entering the house. Closing the front door behind him, Alex looked a little rugged; he's been mowing and watering the lawn all morning, so it wasn't anything you haven't expected. Still, the sight made you shake your head with a fond smile, directing him to the bathroom upstairs for a cleanup before he even considered touching and dirtying you. He complied easily enough after some good-natured banter, promising to come back down clean a few minutes later.

Just as you were ready to put every ingredient into the pot placed on the stove, two strong arms wound themselves around your middle, pulling you into a solid chest behind you. As kisses found their way onto your neck, you couldn't help but laugh at the feeling of a mustache tickling your sensitive skin.

"Alex! Come on, you know that tickles!"

"But I'm clean now, so it's free game!"

"No please."

Slightly pulling away while giggling, you turned in his hold and laced your arms around his neck.

"You might be clean, but I have a soup to cook. If you distract me, lunch won't be ready anytime soon."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

At his cheeky reply, you let one of your hands hit his chest gently, shaking your head at him. You couldn't deny how happy you were however, a smile ever-present on your face.

"It would. Now, let me work please."

"Just give me a minute."

Before you could reply, his left hand came up to hold your face tenderly. Leaning down, Alex kissed you, silencing whatever protest was on your mind at that moment.

Humming into his mouth, you reciprocated immediately, not caring too much about the food behind you anymore. As you deepened the kiss, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his, you let more of your body weight rest against him, making his hold tighten slightly. His other hand soon sneaked up from your waist, grasping into your hair lightly. He made sure not to pull and hurt you in any way, he was just anchoring you to himself even closer — more securely. It was a habit of his you learned to love very quickly, and he wasn't one to bother hiding how much he enjoyed it every time either.

After a few minutes have passed locked together like that, you finally pulled away and put some distance between the two of you.

"Don't think I will let you get away with this."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Farah Karim - "forehead kiss"

Constantly fighting wasn't an easy thing, not for the body nor the soul. After days, weeks of being on the field and putting up with everything happening around you, it wasn't a surprise when relaxing and letting go became difficult to anyone who has experienced it. For her, it seemed especially hard, but with your help, she found there was a way to calm the storm inside her.

Your girlfriend wasn't big on showing signs of affection in public and you didn't blame her for that in the slightest. As a Commander and highly respected soldier, Farah had a front and reputation to uphold, and there wasn't really a place for being openly emotional. That didn't mean she didn't love you, and you always got reassured by the little things she did for you — waving when leaving from base, giving you a subtle nod to let you know something, sending you a little smile in a private way. It was hard to stay loving and affectionate when operating a whole Force, and you understood it enough to not demand anything she couldn't give or do.

Routinely, when Farah finally came home after a long period of time, it took her a few days to ease back into a calm state. She was always level-headed, out in the field or in everyday life, but all the fighting took a mental toll on her. She didn't like to let you know when she was doing bad or just had a difficult time getting used to the quiet and calm of home, but you always noticed anyways. It wasn't hard: when you know someone as deeply as you two knew each other, it was nearly impossible to miss signs like those. Fortunately, you had a good way of helping her, one that didn't require more than a little patience and your love.

"Love?"

You stepped into the bedroom while calling out for your girlfriend, putting a mug on the nightstand.

"I'm here."

Feeling her presence behind you, you turned and greeted her with a smile.

"Can I read to you?"

It was usual for you two to end up under the soft covers tangled up together, but free just enough to read one-one book by yourselves. It wasn't unheard of either that one of you offered to read aloud, because both of you found it calming and a good way to spend time effectively together. Now, Farah had a slight frown on her face, visibly considering your offer. Her stance was still stiff, gaze often darting back and forth in any room she stepped in. You understood of course; she was barely back from a long mission, it was tough to get back to your usual routine. After a few seconds though, her expression softened and with a nod, she closed the door behind her.

Turning around, you made quick work of the sheets and pillows, laying down in a way your back was still propped up onto the bed frame. Grasping a book you were half finished with, you opened your arms in an open invitation.

"Come here."

It didn't take long until you were both comfortably under the blankets, legs interviewed and her head on your shoulder. The room was quiet except for your soft words, and within minutes, Farah was breathing steady next to you, body finally relaxing.

It went like that for some time, and when you went to turn the page and start a new chapter, her voice stopped you.

"Thank you."

Untangling herself a little, she pulled herself up and gently kissed your forehead. It was unhurried and entirely chaste, just like her kisses usually were; in this form, they meant more than anything else in her book, and by default, in yours too. Sensing how grateful she was, you gave her a warm smile, and with a gentle hand on her back, you directed your attention back to the book in your other. It wasn't long before she was snoring softly against you, quiet breaths rhythmically hitting your chest.

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

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A Night Out ~ Aemond x Reader

request: So now that requests are open 😏…. What do you think about a fic where y/n has lived in kings landing her whole life but has never left the safety of the red keep. She expresses to her best friend Helaena that she wants to travel the world one day but when Aegon over hears her he makes fun of her with Aemond, telling her she wouldn’t last a day. To prove them wrong she sneaks out of the castle but Aemond follows her to make sure she doesn’t get hurt 🥰 ~ @missscarletta7 word count: 1.1k warnings: suggestive language, mentions of reader being in danger, nothing explicit note: love this request, I love me a protective Aemond 😩 thanks for the request friend 💚

“I should like to travel,” you tell Helaena, who rests with her head in your lap, eyes closed as the summer sun washes over her.

“Would you?” Helaena murmurs, keeping her eyes closed. A soft smile decorates her lovely face.

“You wouldn’t last a day in the world,” Aegon says, chuckling from where he also lays in the grass.

The days had grown cold with the promise of autumn, but for some reason today the weather was lovely. The sun bathed the gardens in warmth, which led to everyone spending as much time in the sun as possible.

Aemond doesn’t lay, he is seated on a bench nearby, and a book open across his lap as he listens to the conversation. Your cheeks flush at Aegon’s teasing.

“That is not true-”

“It is true,” he says sitting up to face you, “you’ve been kept in the Keep your whole life. The second you leave this castle wicked men will corrupt you.”

Helaena opens her eyes then, turning her head toward her brother.

“Come now Aeg, you shall frighten her,” she says, defending her lady-in-waiting. Aegon shrugs.

“I speak only the truth, a lovely creature such as yourself is destined to ruin.”

Your mouth drops open, cheeks pink.

“What horrible things you say, Aegon,” you scold, “and anyhow it is not like I would go unarmed.”

Aegon cocks a brow at you.

“And what access to the armory do you have, my lady?” he questions causing you to pout.

“Ser Criston would allow me a weapon of my choosing, I am sure of it,” you tell him. Aegon chuckles.

“That would be rather unwise of him,” Aemond chimes in, “considering you’ve never had a lesson with the blade in your life.”

Your frown deepens.

“How hard can it be?” you challenge, causing Aemond to close his book.

“Hard enough,” Aemond tells you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Stay where it is safe, my lady,” he tells you, “I hope to not see you on my own adventures into the streets of King’s Landing.”

Your cheeks seem to darken at this, knowing Aegon is referring to his trips to the Streets of Silk.

That night you decide you will go into town. You shall prove them wrong.

Aemond was returning from a rather late night spent in the library. He has gotten into reading a new book and lost track of time, only stopping when his candle fizzled out.

As he walked down the silent corridors he spotted you, a cape draped over your shoulders, as you pulled the hood over your head. Where on earth were you going? What were you doing?

Your movements were slow and calculated as you evaded several goldcloaks, as a small kitten would evade the crashing feet of passersby. Aemond found himself smirking, as he watched you. Grabbing a cloak of his own, he decided he would follow you. He could not let one of his sister’s ladies fall prey to the madness outside of these walls. It wouldn’t be right.

Somehow, someway, he followed as you made your way through the gates unseen.

He follows behind you, remaining unseen as you find your way to a tavern. Aemond enters several moments after you, planning to continue to guard you against afar.

You sit at a table, removing your hood, eyes lit up with wonder. A tavern girl walks over to you.

“What’ll it be?” she says, gruffly, with her hands on her hips.

“Is there something you recommend?” you ask and the lady makes a face at you.

“We have mead, and we have bread,” she tells you.

“Sounds lovely,” you tell her and she walks away, perplexed.

Aemond chuckles to himself, keeping his head low. He is terribly recognizable, let alone with just his Valyrian coloring. The eyepatch does not allow for anonymity.

“Hello beautiful,” a voice says, causing you to turn. A man gazes down at you.

“Good evening,” you say politely, feeling your heartbeat thumping against your chest.

“Fancy a shag?” he asks, and your eyes widen.

“No,” you tell him, but he grabs your arm, pulling you from your seat.

“Come deary, let me show you what I can-”

The man never has the chance to finish his sentence as he is torn away from you. You fall back against the table, the corner biting into your hip. The man had been thrown to the floor and moaned in pain.

You look toward your savior, a tall man hidden behind a cloak.

“The lady said no,” he says, voice caressing you like silk. Wait a minute. You know that voice.

Your savior turns to you, keeping his head low, but you spot the patch across his face.

“Aem-” you begin before he brings a finger to his lips to silence you.

“Come,” he says, taking your hand and leading you from the tavern into the streets. He brings you to a nearby alley, away from the bustling chatter of the nightlife.

“Did you follow me?” you accuse.

“I only planned on watching, if only you needed assistance,” he tells you, “which you did.”

“I could have handled myself,” you argue.

“Oh could you?” he teases, but his eye widens as you reveal a small blade from the pockets of your skirts.

“Yes,” you insist.

Aemond lets out a laugh.

“You planned to stab a man in the middle of a tavern?”

“I will do what needs to be done!” you tell him, “I am not a maiden in need of protection.”

You remind him yet again of a small kitten, claws out. Aemond finds himself grinning at your ferocity.

“What if I enjoy protecting you?” he tells you.

You scoff, cheeks reddening.

“You are making fun of me,” you accuse, bringing a hand up to push his chest.

Aemond grabs your hand, taking a step forward, forcing you backward until your back hits the wall.

“What would you do?” he asks, as your breathing picks up, “if I was a madman, wanting to have his way with you right now, right here?”

You wet your lips at the implication.

“Because that is what that man was thinking,” he tells you, his face serious, “stab me? The goldcloaks would throw you in a black cell. Or worse.”

Your gaze flickers to his mouth before you turn your head away.

“I just wanted to see,” you tell him, “I know, I know it is dangerous. I just do not wish to live life like a prisoner.”

Aemond watches you as your eyes become glassy with frustrated tears.

“I can give you that,” Aemond tells you, placing a hand under your chin. You meet his gaze.

“You need only ask,” Aemond continues, watching as your lips part.

“Please,” you beg, and Aemond connects his lips to yours, kissing you with such ferocity you are sure you shall melt into the wall behind you.

“I shall not be kept locked up in the Keep,” you breathe against his mouth. He hums before kissing you once more.

“You do not need to be,” he murmurs, “Vhagar can take you anywhere you wish to go. As long as you take me with you.”

note: UGH my heart explodes with fluffy protective Aemond why can't I be pushed up against a wall by him 😩 hope you enjoyed it loves 💚

#aemond targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen oneshot #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #protective!aemond #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer

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foreverrandomwritings · 10 months

Text

Leah Clearwater with Imprint- Headcanon

Summary:This is a headcanon of Leah Clearwater having an imprint. I love this misunderstood wolf so fucking much.

Pairing: Leah Clearwater x afab!Reader

Warnings: Death, swear words, smut at the end MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!

Word count:903 (I really love her okay?)

Masterlist M’s PMC Masterlist

~It had been both surprising and unsurprising when Leah imprinted on a woman.

~Surprising because they didn’t realize that female wolves could imprint(even though they didn’t really have any knowledge in the female wolf thing anyhow)

~It’s unsurprising however because they had all imprinted on women and had never heard of a wolf imprinting on a guy before.

~She imprinted on you after you had gotten done telling off a couple guys for being inappropriate with a group of high school girls at the diner you worked at.

~You had kicked the guys out, made sure the girls were okay then turned around to tell her she could sit where she likes when you made eye contact and your life completely changed for the better.

~Leah had been ecstatic to finally have an imprint.

~She does hesitate to tell you that she's a werewolf and that vampires exist.

~She’s terrified of something happening to you if she involves you in her life.

~But when she does tell you you are completely understanding why she hesitated.

~You never give her any shit or grief or anything about her having to stay out late and patrol.

~You actually make sure to schedule meetings in good spots while she’s patrolling so you can give her dinner or lunch or sometimes breakfast.

~She is extremely reluctant to bring you around the guys, other than Seth of course.

~You and her younger brother get along like two peas in a pod.

~It makes Leah extremely happy to have someone care for Seth as deeply as she does.

~You always make sure he is fed as well and that he isn’t overworked with patrols.

~When she does bring you around the guys, you are tough as nails.

~They try to make fun of Leah for the fact she was so pouty after Sam left her for her cousin. You fly right off the handle.

~Seth and Leah have had to hold you back from physically attacking Paul and Jared for their words.

~You also absolutely obliterated Sam and Emily one night, giving them a really long lecture about how much they truly hurt her and they apologized to her profusely.

~She had never had anyone in her life stick up for her the way you did.

~The love she held for you showed in every look your way, or the sparkle in her eyes when your name was mentioned.

~She had always hoped to have the heartache of Sam and Emily patched up and you did just the trick.

~You were unwaveringly patient with her even if you were her imprint she was still scared of another heartbreak.

~You guys moved in with each other pretty quickly. Finding a small two bedroom apartment.

~The thought of not living together made you both sick so it made the most sense.

~Though separate bedrooms quickly turn into one.

~She enjoyed having you wrapped up in her arms too much while she slept.

~You enjoyed being wrapped up in her scent while she was gone too much to stay away from her bed.

~You also were one of the only things that soothed her nightmares away.

~Whether they be of her fathers death, the eclipse battle or what could have happened in the breaking dawn confrontation.

~You reassure her everyday that you will never love anyone the way you love her.

~You reassure her in the way you kiss her, slowly and passionately letting all unspoken words slip between your lips between her own.

~You reassure her with the way you start a shower for her when you hear her slip through the front door.

~You reassure her with the way you always have her favorite snacks stocked in your pantry, your bag and your car.

~You reassure her in the way you stop by and talk to Sue on a daily basis.

~She reassures you of her love with the way she throws your towel in the dryer so it’ll be nice and warm after your shower.

~She reassures you in the way that she hums your favorite songs while she’s doing chores around the apartment.

~She reassures you with the way she takes you to some of her favorite spots she’s found during patrols.

~She reassures you with her intimacy and vulnerability.

~She loves cuddling with you, she’s always the big spoon, she loves the way you hold her hand and wrap it around your middle or lay it on your chest right over your heart.

~Or she likes when you lay your head on her chest above her heart and tangle your legs within hers.

~She likes when you braid her hair for her. She also enjoys braiding yours in return.

~She's obsessed with the way you always seem cold without her. You’ll be wrapped up in 4 blankets, have on fleece pants and a hoodie with fuzzy socks and still somehow be freezing but then she wraps you up in her arms and you are perfectly content.

~When you guys have sex it’s pretty much always soft. She is terrified of going overboard and hurting you.

~However if you liked it a little rough she would indulge you a little.

~She keeps her thoughts of you very very private. She does not want the guys to see you in an inappropriate way.

~Overall this woman loves and worships you undeniably.

~I am desperate to be her imprint.

A/N: I am a complete sucker for this gorgeous woman.

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell @dingusteveharrington

#m's pride month celebration #leah clearwater headcanon #leah clearwater x reader #leah clearwater #twilight headcanon #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn

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ddollipop · 2 years

Text

YOU BRING THE DEMON OUTTA ME. . . ! — ( ARATAKI ITTO. )

#. synopsis! — itto mistakes the reader for a prostitute but gets her into bed anyhow because he's just that good. (alternatively: itto is big, dumb, and full of cum) .

#. contains! — explicitly nsfw content , doggystyle sex , cum eating/cum swallowing , missionary position , cumming on face/stomach , blowjob , oral sex , cunnilingus , soft + sweet , himbo itto , slightly experienced reader .

#. word count! — 4.0k .

Itto isn’t exactly a master of self control. He’s painfully impulsive, much to the dismay of his gang (especially poor Shinobu who’s always left to clean up his messes,) and he lacks a lot of things. . . Like tact and subtlety. And that’s glaringly on display tonight as he approaches you from across the beach, chest comically puffed out. If he weren’t so attractive, you likely would have had a hard time taking him seriously the moment he switched his weight from one muscular leg to the other, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear.

“How much?” He asks, attempting to sound sauve, but failing to recognize that his voice is all but quivering under the weight of his own nerves.

You stifle a laugh. He doesn’t need to explain, —you know what he’s truly asking for, but you’re going to have to regret informing him that he’s got the wrong person for the job he’s looking to have done tonight. Though you must admit, his inability to be discreet is quite cute.

“One thousand five hundred Mora,” you answer.

As expected, a look of shock crosses his face; eyes widening as if he’d just seen a ghost somewhere off in the distance behind you. You manage to bite back an amused smile.

“O-Only one thousand five hundred?” He parrots, “—for the whole night?”

He’s making it unbelievably difficult to hold yourself together and keep from bursting into laughter.

“For the whole night,” you nod in confirmation. “The price never changes.”

Itto’s relieved to hear that for a moment. It’s one thing to gather funds from his gang members as a way to throw parties or host fun events, but to snatch money away from them to pay for a night of trick turning. . . That’s less acceptable, and even he (in all his social ineptness) knows that. This was an unexpected expense, though. Normally, Itto is okay with taking care of his more personal needs all by himself; no help necessary. His hand does the job fine, if he does say so himself. But tonight, it’s just not cutting it. He’s tried: but masturbation isn’t working well enough, and he’s craving the touch of a sweet young woman. Specifically you.

Truth be told, he’s been eyeing you down like fresh prey up for the taking since he first spotted you chatting it up with a few other women just before sundown. You suspect that’s why he assumed you were selling a bit more than the sweet drinks on your wheel adorned cart, because you often make conversation with the working women of the area. Though your friends were undoubtedly lovely, there was something Itto found to be magnetizing about you in particular. He hasn’t been very good at hiding it either, much to the dismay of Shinobu, who really doesn’t want to have to bail him out of jail tonight if he shoots his shot and you find yourself at odds with it. He definitely knows how to take no for an answer, but Itto sucks at reading social cues, and this is a particularly precarious situation. . .

Thankfully, you’re more amused (and maybe a bit endeared) by him than anything else.

“I should have,” he pauses, stuffing his large hands into the pockets of his baggy pants, “enough. . .”

Itto pulls out a handful of golden coins and a few wrappers, presumably from some sort of candy, and places them in the open palm of your hand. It’s probably a little less than what it should be, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that. Instead, you stuff the coins into your collection jar and make a mental note to remove the wrappers later on.

“Here you go,” you say, handing him a bottle of dango milk.

He takes it, and though the size is quite big, it looks like a child’s toy in his large hand. There’s something sweet about the cute, bow adorned bottle being held against the flat of his palm, but you say nothing of it.

“Uh. . .” he says, gaze flickering between your pretty face and the drink in his hand, “thank you?”

You mimic his earlier movements, leaning around the cart to whisper in his ear.

“I’m not selling what you’re looking for,” you tell him, a snicker itching on the tip of your tongue.

Though your words aren’t really what he was hoping to hear from you, the way your warm breath ghosts against the shell of his ear sends a pulse straight to his cock. He can feel another hard-on coming, shifting his weight uncomfortably again. The friction sends another jolt to his groin, and he immediately regrets having moved at all.

“H-Huh?” He questions, a little squeak catching the end of it.

You raise a hand in front of his face, snatching the attention of his gaze before pointing down to the sign plastered on the front of your cart.

“I sell dango milk.”

Itto looks between the sign, your face, and the drink in his hand multiple times over and in that exact order. A blush creeps onto his cheeks, and you can hear him swallow roughly. He’s not sure what to do or say now.

“Still. . .” you drag the word out a bit, pausing just to see if he squirms a little (and he does.)

“It’s almost closing time anyway. So maybe if you ask nicely, I might be able to help you with your. . . Other needs.”

Come on, who can blame you? Itto might have a bad reputation around these parts, but isn’t that just part of the fun? Part of the thrill? It’s just in human nature to be a little self-destructive every once in a while. Not that this man really seems to be all that bad in the first place. You’re definitely beginning to chalk those rumors up to just that, because (from what you’ve seen thus far) Itto just appears to be a little misunderstood.

Sure, he’s been painfully obvious about wanting to fuck your brains out, —but isn’t that also part of the fun sometimes?

From what you’ve gathered, Itto is mostly harmless. You think mostly because you haven’t quite gotten him into bed yet, and for all you know, he’s a biter or something. . . Not that you’d mind that too much. In fact, you have a sneaking suspicion you might like it.

He’s all but lost in a daze as you ask a familiar face to close up for you and take the cart elsewhere. It’s an easy matter to settle, and you feel secure in the wake of it. Secure enough to go off and get a small room on the first floor of an otherwise unoccupied motel. Its decor is definitely based on Mondstadt, and the room itself seems to follow the same style, which you can only assume is the reason they don’t get as much business as they could. After all, this is Inazuma, and it would likely serve their business much better to decorate accordingly.

You quickly push that to the back of your mind. It’s unimportant now that Itto is standing just behind you, lips pursed into a tight, thin line. Though you don’t know him very well, you suspect that it’s unusual for him to be this quiet for so long, and you shimmy the jacket off your body and toss it onto the edge of the bed before turning to him completely and seeking to calm the storm inside him.

“There’s no need to be so tense,” you assure him, reaching out to smooth your palms over the expanse of his shoulders.

He tenses a little further under your touch, but relaxes just as quickly when he realizes just how gentle you’re being with him. For now, he likes that. It gets tiring always being seen as some sort of evil villain hellbent on wreaking havoc everywhere you go, and for whatever it’s worth, Itto likes to be treated with kid gloves every now and again.

“I don’t bite,” you continue on, pushing yourself up onto the tips of your toes to whisper properly in his ear. “Unless you tell me to.”

Fuck does he want you to. He’s growing restless, and though anxiety still thrums through every feeble vein in his muscular body, he needs you. It’s impossible to ignore the ache that continues to grow in his groin, and it’s making his mind go foggy.

He’s thankful when you take charge and match your hand to the curve of his neck, pulling him down a bit to comfortably capture his lips in a shaky kiss. It takes a moment for Itto react, but when he does, it nearly sweeps you off your feet. He’s out of sync with your movements, but you pause for a second to match him instead as his large hand travels to the small of your back, offering you a steadying force. His lips taste faintly of sweet dango milk, —the one he’s taken no more than a few sips of since you handed it to him originally, and you haven’t a clue where it is now.

Not that it matters.

You allow your hands to explore his body, skin burning against the pads of your fingertips. His breath hitches just a little when your nails trail along his abdomen, feeling every dip and divot to be found there. Itto groans into your mouth the moment your hand reaches the outline of his cock, attempting to gauge the length and girth. Even clothed you can tell he’s packing. It’s definitely nothing to sneeze at, and you worry for a moment if you’ll be able to take him now that you’ve gotten this far.

He breaks away from the sloppy kisses a little breathless now, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Can you please just. . .” he trails off, stepping back a few inches to rest his weary body against the motel wall.

You oblige. Even if you can’t force him down your throat until he can feel every muscle contract, you doubt he’s going to care too much. At this point, he seems like he’d take just about anything; mouth, hand, or otherwise. It also stands to reason that Itto is a pretty sweet guy just looking to get himself off, and you don’t have any qualms about being the ones to help him with that.

When his pants drop down to pool at his ankles in a rippling mess of fabric, you’re left staring at a big, fat cock with a blazingly red tip. Pre-cum has alreeady gathered in the long, deep slit, seeping out in little beads of transparent off-white. The veins of his member are prominent, protruding especially along the bottom and begging to be suckled at. What feels like mere seconds of silent admiration to you feels like eons to the aching man above you, and you get the hint when he places one of his hands along the crown of your head and you look up at him with semi-doed eyes, only to find that Itto has desperation written all over his face.

After offering a few kitten-licks to the reddened tip and feeling his fingers curl into the strands of your hair ever so gently, you tilt his cock up and give him a few loose-gripped pumps as you run your tongue along those veins. They were practically crying out for attention, and you are more than willing to give them exactly what they deserve. Itto sighs above you, head resting against the wall as his eyelids come together in bliss. You know so little about him, and yet it’s as if you know all the ways to get him off and push him over the edge.

Gathering saliva into your mouth, you spit onto his length and spread it down, lubricating him to the best of your ability. It’s a lot of area to cover, and you’re no magician when it comes to saliva production.

You take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks out and ignoring the dull ache that’s already begun setting into your jaw. He tastes salty and bitter, but it’s nothing unpleasant, and whatever your mouth can’t manage to reach, you’re taking care of with your hands. Itto is already a mess, broken moans falling from starved lips. This is all he’d been thinking about since he saw you on the beach, but to think he’d actually have it, —have you here on your knees before him, sucking him off and catering to his every whim. . . Ah.

He can’t imagine what he’s done to deserve you. He even thinks to himself that all those nights he spent locked up were simply stepping stones to this moment; and if this is Celestia’s way of apologizing to him, then consider every horrid run-in with Kujo Sara atoned for.

It doesn’t take much to send him over the edge. Having been hard from the start, the initial process was kickstarted, which made your job that much easier. Itto can’t really find the words to warn you when he’s about to shoot a load straight down your throat, but you pick up on the signs easily enough for that to be the warning in itself. You pull off just before he spurts cum down your jugular, taking your hand away to let him replace it with his own. Itto takes his own cock into his hands, grip tight as hell. Your wet tongue slides out of your mouth, ready for the deposit of seed.

His shaky hands aren’t the best for aiming, and more of it ends up on your cheek than it does in your mouth, but you scrape your fingers through the semen and lick it off easily enough. He might as well be ready to bust again the moment you swallow his seed down.

Now, it appears that you’ve unlocked something dangerously exciting. That inner beast inside Itto that you suspected was there is beginning to bear its fangs, and you’re more than ready to be a willing victim to its every wish and whim. The heat between your legs is tingling with desire, and though you’ve yet to touch yourself, you’re pretty certain all that mouth-work on Itto’s dick left you dripping.

“Lemme say a proper thank you,” he says, slurring his words a little as if just cumming on your tongue alone has already gotten him intoxicated.

Like the gentleman you largely expect he is, Itto helps you to your feet and helps you take your clothes off, although that last part was likely just as much for him as it was for you. His gaze rakes your body over, all but leaves him quivering with anticipation to touch, tease, and taste. He wastes no time in positioning you on the bed, being sure to spread your legs open before backing off to snatch the rest of his clothes from his body. There’s a mess of random fabrics and jewelry on the motel floor; but it is what it is for now, and the cleanup will have to wait until all of this ends.

Or until morning, if you decide it’d be okay to sleep next to Itto for the night.

As expected, the motel bed is pretty cheap and it creaks with even the slightest bit of movement. That might have irritated you under any other circumstances, but it feels so far away as your hands travel over your body, one stopping to fiddle with your perked up nipple, and the other teasing at your clit as you watch Itto undress himself completely.

He practically shoos your hand away when he makes his way over to the bed, itching to drink you in. His black, pointed nails dig into either of your thighs as he situates himself between them, eyeing the way light glimmers off your glistening folds. Your hands are in his hair, curving around the horns that protrude from his scalp as you take fistfuls in between your fingers, pulling just hard enough to make him hum, before his mouth has even attached itself to your clit. You’re a little embarrassed by the gasp that escapes you the moment he lets a drooling line of spit trickle from his mouth to your slit. It’s so hot that your insides clench inadvertently, and he loves the little twitch that’s visible from the outside.

A soft whine passes your lips as the flat of Itto’s tongue slides against you, splitting you open only to be swallowed in turn by your plush, burning lips. He laps all around, tongue darting inside and pulling up to prod at your swollen clit. A part of you wonders if you’ve ever felt this sensitive before, —or maybe it’s just that he’s so focused on giving you pleasure instead of rushing through the motions to get inside you that you’re able to get lost in every deliberate flick of his tongue.

“T-That’s so good,” you stammer, rolling your hips off the bed just a bit in hopes of matching the rhythm of his tongue.

In return, Itto presses you further into the mattress, splitting your thighs apart even more. His nails carve into your skin, but the pain feels more like pleasure now that you’re drowning in his presence. Whatever he’s doing, it’s working like a fucking charm. He’s got you choking on moans, writhing as best you can now with him pinning your legs down like this.

Itto thinks you taste like paradise, —like pure bliss in human form. You’re everything he’d been craving since dawn and more.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, managing to get the words out (although they were so rushed and airy that he hardly understood you.)

He responds by removing the hand from your right thigh, rubbing at your clit fast and hard with the pad of his middle finger as his tongue continues to lap at the lower half of your heat. You throw your head back, muscles clenching in unusion just to release the tension all at once. Itto eats you through the high, swilling your pussy out.

Exemplifying those gentlemanly qualities of his, he waits for your breathing to catch up with you before he makes any other sudden moves. He was already hard again halfway through the meal he’d made of you. You’re glistening more now with a mixture of his spit and your own arousal, and he has to keep himself from pushing his tongue back in for another round.

“C’mere,” he says eventually, guiding your lips to his own.

His lips taste more of you now than they do of dango milk. . .

He positions you so smoothly that it hardly registers what exactly he’s doing. On your knees, elbows keeping your tits from pressing to the bedsheets, ass hiked into the air, giving Itto ample access to your core. As he spits into the palm of his own hand, lathering himself up and guiding the tip of his cock to you, he smooths his free hand down the length of your spine. Tension you didn’t realize you were holding releases with his touch.

Itto is surprisingly gentle, pausing to let you adjust to his size more than once. Though his body is crying out for fast, rough movements, he knows that’ll have to wait a while longer if he’s to keep you at the forefront of his mind. This will be that much better if he knows you’re enjoying it just as much as he is, so he waits, and it’s no sweat off his back to do so.

He sighs in relief when he bottoms out inside you, your plush walls suckling on him like the open seas lapping at the shore. His balls are pressed against your swollen clit from this angle, and he smooths that hand back up your spine: slowly, deliberately, sweetly. Even when he moves for the first time, it’s nothing if not considerate and attentive to your every micro-movement.

Though his body is still begging him to fuck you silly and leave you sobbing into the sheets, he doesn’t know that he has the energy to keep that kind of tempo going for long. He goes faster, harder, nails digging into the flesh of your ass instead of your thighs now, —but he’s sure to keep you in mind all the while. Words are hard to form when someone as big as him is buried in your snatch, but noises of pleasure resonate from your drool-covered lips and form a chaotic melody when they intertwine with the creaking bed and Itto’s frequent groans and grunts.

He loves the way your walls seem to pulsate around him, and Itto thinks to himself that if it were a more practical endeavor, he might just stay here just like this with you forever.

It doesn’t take much for your upper body to collapse onto the bed, unable to keep steady any longer. Your fingers curl around the sheets when he ups his pace again, slamming into you quite a bit harder than before, his fingernails forming indents in the skin of your ass.

Leaning down, Itto peppers kisses along the plane of your shoulders, slowing himself for just a moment to grind his hips against you. Tingles of immense pleasure ripple from your well-fucked pussy to the tippy-top of your shivering, naked spine.

“Please,” you manage, finally finding the clarity to form words from the mess of haze and fog over your brain, “fucking please.”

“Turn over,” Itto returns, and although his wording could have easily been mistaken for a demand, his tone comes across as more of a desperate beg than anything else.

“I wanna see your eyes roll back when you cum.”

It’s not that this view was unenjoyable. Much to the contrary, Itto had a damn good time watching the fat of your ass jiggle and ripple with every inward thrust, —and he liked watching your muscles move under your skin. But if he may make just one more request for the night before he slips out through the door half-naked, he just really wants to see your face when you cum all over his cock.

You do as asked, insides aching from the emptiness when you move away from him to reposition yourself. Thankfully, he seems to be on the same page and as soon as the opportunity arises, he’s speared himself into you once more. His thrusts are deeper now, feeling like they’re touching every inch of you from the inside out. From this angle, he watches as you bite down on your own arm to muffle your moans, and you admire the markings on his body through half-lidded eyes heavy with pleasure.

“I-I’m gonna—”

Your words are cut off by a particularly delicious thrust, Itto slamming directly into the sweetest spot he could possibly hit. You’re left panting and reeling from the suddenness, an orgasm tingling so close just under the surface of your skin.

No more than a minute later, you’re sputtering something that sounds like fuck again and again as your eyes roll back (just the way Itto wanted.) You’re practically seeing stars along your vision, chest heaving and mind fogging over again as he pulls himself out and jerks himself off until he releases all over your lower stomach.

It’s warm and sticky, and now the room smells of sweat and sex, but there’s a grin on your lips that you can’t seem to wipe off.

“I. . .” Itto pants a little, “—I’ll leave whenever you want.”

You blink, staring at him like he’s crazy. If he’d phrased it any other way, you might well have been a bit offended, but the decision was yours, assumedly. The ball was in your court. If anything, he seems dejected. . . Like he’d never truly been shown enough kindness to accept that he might well deserve it from everyone.

“You don’t have to go,” you reply softly.

He seems surprised, but doesn’t appear to want to object. Maybe he’d been waiting to hear that all along.

“I can stay?” Itto questions.

There’s a glimmer of hope behind his eyes now. Any worries you had about spending the night with him have gone entirely out the window, and all you want to do now is wrap yourself around him, feel the stick of his skin against yours for the night, and drift off to sleep in his embrace.

“Yeah,” you nod, speaking gently. “You can stay.”

#arataki itto #itto #genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut #arataki itto smut #itto smut #genshin impact x reader smut #arataki itto x reader smut #arataki itto x reader #itto x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact reader insert #genshin impact reader insert smut #genshin impact smut #itto reader insert smut #arataki itto reader insert smut #itto x reader #genshin x reader

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stedefxckingbonnet · 4 months

Note

hello hello! i don’t think i’ve seen anything like this yet, so may i request izzy x gn!reader who’s a bit insecure?

maybe they struggle with body image or something and izzy is basically like “how are they so blind??” but he struggles to express it because he’s never had to be so soft for anyone?

of course, ignore it if you’re not comfortable with it! :)

Hi, everyone!!

So, it's been a while. And I mean, a while. Longer than I wanted to step away from writing, and I never really wanted to step away from it in the first place but some stuff happened and yada yada. But I'm truly, truly hoping to be back and writing again to some capacity, I have truly missed writing for Izzy and for you all and I feel as though the world needs Izzy Hands content now more than ever! I truly do hope to be back.

I hope you don't mind that I put my own spin onto this, anon! You provided the lovely central plot and idea, and I simply provided an atmosphere and story to go with. Body image/insecurity is something I struggle with too, no matter how many times people tell me that I am beautiful, and I tried to channel that in this one. I am also not trying to send the message that other people's validation is what can make a person feel better about themself! I am more so trying to convey that the one(s) we love can often show us things about ourselves that we didn't know were there or didn't see before, and that they help us to love and appreciate these things about ourselves, and ourselves in general. You all who are reading this are so, so wonderful and beautiful and extraordinary even if you have a hard time believing it, and maybe your comfort character can help you to believe it a bit more in this little fic♡

Anyhow, please, request! Don't hesitate! My messages are also always open for anyone who needs anything but also just to say hi or talk about anything really. Thank you all for your everlasting support, patience, and kindness especially through my sort of absence ♡ Also, please, if I have used your gif or you know who created it, please credit yourself or them! I am not always good at figuring that sort of stuff out, but I want to give credit where credit is due. Have a wonderful day (or night), everyone!

Love,

Lavinia

What I See | Izzy Hands x Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, slight swearing, struggles with body image and insecurity, very direct izzy (in a good, affectionate way but may be inaccurate ish? but i believe it isn't)

Word Count: 2525

"I just don't understand it!" the first mate angrily threw his hands up in the air. "I just don't understand why Bonnet is dragging us to one of those stupid...fancy people gatherings."

You couldn't help but laugh at such a sight, seeing Izzy Hands so distraught, though his usual cloud of anguish didn't seem to surround him. This was different, something you couldn't exactly place, but it was endearing nonetheless. "A ball, you mean?" your lips curled into a playful smile.

"I don't care what it's called," Izzy grumbled. "All I know is that I don't want to be there."

"It could be fun!" you suggested, your smile growing larger.

"Has Bonnet brainwashed you somehow?" Izzy rolled his eyes, but for just a moment, maybe, you could have sworn you saw a smile on the first mate's visage.

"If worse comes to worse, there'll be plenty of alcohol to drink," you laughed, softly squeezing Izzy's shoulder. Subtle touches like these between the two of you were second nature, almost instinctual, yet you were certain Izzy didn't make much of it and plainly saw them as something friendly. You almost sighed at such a thought.

And perhaps you had your own motives for wanting to drag Israel Hands along to such an event. Perhaps it gave you an excuse to hold him close to you without him suspecting a single thing, just that it was all custom meant to be followed in such a setting. You thought maybe, just maybe, it would be the opportune night to spend some more time with Izzy, just the two of you in the moonlight, dancing and chatting the night away, cheek to cheek...

"Fancy people alcohol," Izzy groaned in response, snapping you out of your daydream, to which luckily, he didn't notice you had slipped into in the first place.

"It's better than nothing," you rolled your eyes playfully. "Now, come on. Bonnet's got some fabrics for us to borrow, he says. I've come to fetch you," you now smiled teasingly.

"Oh, joy!" Izzy exclaimed sarcastically, yet he still followed your lead.

The only reason he was even remotely tolerating the night ahead was to be able to find himself closer to you, away from the chaos of The Revenge and all else it had to offer. Spending a night with you wouldn't be dreadful in the slightest for Izzy, and had you not been attending at all, he wouldn't even hesitate to let Ed and Stede go off to this awful event by themselves. But even Stede knew that your presence was enough to get Izzy to agree to such a thing, and really, what could be more convincing than you?

Before Izzy could comprehend it, your figure was wrapped in an ethereal ensemble. You studied yourself in the mirror, a frown naturally falling upon your face, though it quickly faltered as he came into view.

By the sea gods, you looked astonishing. Izzy already knew you would be the most bewitching of the ball, and that perhaps he would have to compete with other awful suitors of high society to even just get a moment alone with you. He almost became troubled at the thought, but your unmatched beauty was enough to distract him from such a notion. You had taken his breath away and this wasn't exactly a feeling he was used to, though it wasn't one that he disliked. No, not at all. In fact, he could get used to this, and he wanted to. Even though his own reflection stood right before him, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. He never could have fathomed until he met you that someone could be so breathtaking, so...alluring.

But all you were thinking about is how your clothing seemed to accentuate all of the wrong features, in your eyes.

'And the color—it washes me out, doesn't it?' you thought to yourself, almost fighting back tears.

Finally, Izzy spoke, though he immediately regret doing so. "Will you be comfortable?" He almost began to scold himself. 'That's all you have to say? This attractive person is standing right beside you and that's all you can manage to say?'

"Oh, yes. I've got plenty of moving room," you assured him, doing your best to step out of your own head for a moment. You even tried to shoot him a convincing smile. "I'll be just fine."

Finally, your eyes wandered over to his image, instead of focusing either at your own reflection or onto the ground. You felt your face becoming warm as you caught a glimpse of the man before you—how he was transformed, yet, still the Izzy Hands you knew and loved. Only elevated, and even more enchanting than usual. Your jaw almost dropped to the ground.

"What? I look fucking dumb, don't I?" Izzy laughed annoyedly.

"No! No, Izzy, you look..."

Before you could finish your statement, Stede rushed in. "You two ready to go? Oh, look at the two of you! You look divine!"

You looked over at Izzy, sending a supportive, yet spirited smile his way. Izzy couldn't help but return the sentiment as the two of you were ushered off of the ship and into another realm unbeknownst to the both of you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Some of the sweetest melodies you had ever heard began to surround you as you stepped into the ornately decorated room. You could hardly believe how much space there was in just one part of this residence, and that it was dedicated for dancing and other sorts of happenings similar to these. Before you knew it, for just a moment, you succumbed to your wonder of what having a life like this would entail, though you were quickly reminded of your distaste towards it when you saw a woman weeping and being chased out of the room by a man screaming extreme obscenities toward her. You and Izzy slowly looked toward one another in disbelief, the both of you fighting off laughter.

"It's not too late to get out of here," Izzy whispered.

You rolled your eyes with that same familiar grin this action always seemed to come with. "We're hardly even here."

Defeated, Izzy sighed and slumped against a wall, though quickly coming off it as soon as he spotted Stede glaring daggers at him from across the room. Another sigh escaped his lips, and you burst into a fit of laughter, unable to contain yourself. As annoyed as Izzy was at what just happened, your laughter was an antidote, and he was certainly taking it in.

Though, his newfound smile quickly faltered when he noticed a handsome stranger eyeing you from a few feet away. But you didn't even notice that someone else had noticed you—you only cared if the man in front of you had, and he seemed to be occupied by something else.

"Iz?" you asked in confusion. "What is it?"

Without another word, Izzy motioned his head to the side, to which you finally noticed the attention of another that you had captured.

"And?" you shook your head, unsure of what Izzy had been insinuating.

"He wants to dance with you," Izzy pointed out, rolling his eyes without realizing. "And you should have some fun. Don't let me hold you back."

You opened your mouth to speak in protest, but quickly closed it once again. How would you admit, in the midst of a stuffy room with a plethora of people you don't know who are all dancing and speaking at the top of their lungs, that all you had looked forward to this evening was to sharing a dance with Izzy Hands and no one else? That it was the only reason you even considered forcing yourself into an outfit that made you feel bad about yourself, even worse than you already do, and surrounding yourself with a million strangers whilst doing it? The thought alone sounded like a nightmare, but with Izzy by your side, it sounded like a dream come true. But Izzy was pushing you toward this stranger before you could comprehend it, and then you watched Izzy's figure disappear slowly into the distance as you were whisked away.

"I've never seen you here before," the stranger pointed out. "And if I had, I think I'd remember a beautiful person such as yourself."

These words made your insides twist. Your companion spoke with sincerity, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe it. 'He's just being polite,' you told yourself, brushing it off.

"It's been a few years," you lied, not wanting to blow your cover, or especially Stede's cover, as you were sure he wasn't exactly welcomed back into an environment such as this. "I don't usually speak to many."

"Well, isn't it my lucky day then?" he laughed. "No one here even compares to you. You are something special. What did you say your name was?"

But before the perhaps unlucky stranger knew it, you were nowhere to be found. You kept running until your environs became darker, and the moon was your only source of light. You leaned against the railing of a balcony, your vision blurred by tears. You flinched upon feeling a hand on your shoulder, but quickly relaxed once you noticed out of your periphery that it was none other than Izzy's touch.

"Did he offend you? I swear, I'll have his head before he can even fucking think of using it again—"

"No, no. He didn't. It's fine, really," you shrugged, blinking back tears to the best of your ability. But even the darkness of the night failed to hide your misery. Izzy softened upon noticing your state.

"What is it?" he asked, concern dripping from his voice as he looked at you intently. You stared at your hands gripping the railing, but you quickly tore your eyes away from that sight and stared out into the night.

"I—This is why I didn't want to come tonight!" you exclaimed.

"You—but you were so—"

"Excited? Yeah, right," you laughed sadly, shaking your head.

"What is it?" Izzy repeated, worry written all over his face. "Are you sure I don't need to behead anyone?"

Another laugh escaped you. "No, Izzy. He—he said I was beautiful. That's not a crime."

"He wasn't wrong," Izzy shrugged, a small smile making its way onto his face. With this, you couldn't help but meet Izzy's eyes, and you couldn't help but return a smile. Though quickly, it vanished, and your original demeanor overtook you once again.

"He was though," you protested. "This is why I don't like coming to these things. Squeezing myself into these clothes."

"I know these clothes are a bit ridiculous," Izzy laughed. "But yet you still manage to be so...beautiful."

Your heart began to do pirouettes inside your chest. For once in your life, part of you believed such a statement could be directed toward yourself. But Izzy could see the plagued expression on your face.

"You don't believe me?"

You shook your head as you finally allowed tears to fall down your face and drip onto your chest. Izzy frowned and took a few steps closer to you so as to gently wipe away your tears with his thumb, though his hand lingered for a moment longer, caressing your cheek as he was about to speak.

"You could be covered in dirt and I'd still find you beautiful," Izzy assured you. "You know, when I first saw you, I knew even then that you were. And you become more so every single day. You are the most enchanting person I've ever crossed paths with and laid my eyes upon. And there's so many things about the world I find are awful to have to experience and look at, but not you. You're the opposite of everything that's wrong with the world."

Sobs escaped your chest as you fell into Izzy's arms, to which he instinctively caught you, engulfing you carefully in his arms. He softly wrapped his fingers in your hair as he held you. 'I am holding the world in my arms right now,' he thought to himself, and thank the sea gods your face was buried into the crook of his neck and you couldn't see the grin that conquered his lips.

As for you, you never believed it when anyone else said these sorts of things to you. You found it impossible to believe these things about yourself; there were even days where you'd purposefully avoid any sort of reflective surface just to ensure that you don't break down. Sometimes, you couldn't even bear to look at yourself. But hearing Izzy declaring all of this to you—for the first time, perhaps you would actually be able to believe it.

Your silence made beads of sweat form atop Izzy's temple, but he didn't dare let you go to wipe them away. You clung onto him tighter, which only thawed Izzy's heart even more. He couldn't believe all that he just said, even though it was all true, and your lack of a response made his heart race even more.

"You are beautiful," Izzy repeated as he melted into your embrace, and embraced the shared silence. Something about it was comforting in a way he had never experienced before. If he could, he would exist in this moment forever.

Finally, you slowly pulled away, though your hands still clung onto the first mate's arms, and your faces were a short distance away from one another. At the same time, the two of you leaned in to close said distance between the two of you, and all bits of yearning, desire, love, and desperation poured out into this moment. Even without Izzy's words, he had already managed to make you feel lovely in every way even just by him being around. He was the one person who managed to help you see what was so amazing about yourself. You quickly melted into the sudden collision of your lips and he kissed you with a fervor that you had been craving from him for as long as you could remember. You smiled against his lips, and once air became scarce, the two of you simultaneously sought it. Once you both pulled apart for air, a collective joyous laugh filled both of your ears.

"I only wanted to come to this stupid thing because you'd be here," you admitted, and you were sure your cheeks were as red as the roses in the garden that surrounded you.

Izzy couldn't help but smile. "I wasn't going to come until Bonnet mentioned you would be. I meant what I said, you know. You are beautiful, and I'm sorry, but you're fucking dumb if you don't see that."

You threw your head back as you laughed before meeting Izzy's gaze once again. "You are so beautiful," Izzy repeated once again, all teasing aside to show his sincerity. You reached for his hand and squeezed it tenderly as the two of you looked out into nighttime, but all Izzy could focus on was how even more ravishing you looked as the moon illuminated your face.

#ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #ofmd season 2 #x reader #izzy hands my beloved #izzy hands x reader #fanfic #ofmd izzy hands #renew as a crew #guys i still have hope for a season 3 because of the petitions and renew as a crew stuff on twitter okay #there is still hope #or else i will cry every day #requests are open #request #please request #anon request #im back bitches #and i missed you all so much

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