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tteokdoroki · 6 months

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VOICEMAILS AND DIAL TONES - yuuta okkotsu.

✩ — about. “back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand.” there are rules to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s has. the first being that you tell each other everything. the second, try not to fall in love. all you know, is that you’ve failed at both, and now your best friend is half way across the world without any idea as to how much you truly love him. is that something you can say over text or voicemail? ( 8.7K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, with a happy ending - video banner! characters are in their 20s. coffee-shop!au, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden romance, long-distance, misunderstandings, miscommunication, situationships, arguments, hospitalisation mentions, death mentions (non-major characters), cucking, somnophilia, praise, fingering (f!receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), phone sex-ish, clothed sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampies, fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hi everyone!! jumping on the yuuta hype and dropping this fic i wrote as a commission last year!! it's so interesting to see how much my writing has changed, but i remember having fun when writng this. either who!! i hope you all enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

absence makes the heart grow fonder — at least that’s what they tell you so that the feeling of missing someone hurts a tiny little bit less.

you’ve always wondered if that were true. if willingly putting space between yourself and the person you loved truly helped soothe the soreness as if it were medication for the body’s aches and pains. perhaps the theory could best be applied to your friendship with yuuta okkotsu.

he’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember — from the moment he moved in next door, his bambi eyes were big and brown, safe and inviting…who were you to keep hiding behind your mothers leg and deny him an invitation to play on the swing set his parents had put up for him in the garden just over the fence? yuuta was the sweetest boy to date, he was always polite with your parents and asked their permission before taking you into the depths of his cardboard fort in the front yard.

he would walk home with you from pre-k, your chubby little fingers tightly intertwined and the matching charms on your backpacks swinging about the place jingling with every step you took towards home. when you got to middle school and kids were meaner, yuuta stood by your side while you were teased for being quieter than most. he defended you, his shy, patient best friend.

okkotsu still walked you home, his pinky finger hooked over yours — greeted your mother with that same shy, yet charming tight lipped smile and offered to help her with cooking dinner with that same airy voice of his. your mother would reward you both with a kiss to the forehead and a plate of warm walnut and chocolate chip cookies and your pinkies — still linked underneath the table.

you were always linked. it’s always been yuuta and you. back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand the butterflies in your tummy and the blistering temperature to the back of your neck and your ears — maybe too naive to understand a metaphorical doctor’s diagnosis of a case of early on-set puppy-love. knowing back then would’ve explained why you wrote yuuta’s name on a heart alongside your own or why you squirmed every time you touched.

there was only one explanation. you liked yuuta, loved him.

you wished that you’d known what that feeling was…because it's soon ripped from your grip and your whole world changes when rika orimoto enters your lives. she was pretty, had a beauty mark smeared daintily across her cheek and gentle eyes that made you feel safe. she was pretty and yuuta thought that too — inside and out. that’s why they became fast highschool sweethearts and why you were left in the dust.

rika easily made a mess of him, tearing yuuta into a million tiny pieces that only she could put back together. she asks him out on white-day, okkotsu a bumbling mess by the lockers in between gym class and economics as he clutches her neatly written love letter — hearts over the I’s and T’s crossed ever so cutely. she had done to yuuta what he’d been doing to you all of your lives and you’d hardly seen her talk to him around school until that day.

much to your dismay, they date throughout the rest of highschool and it nearly kills you, having someone that you were once so close to fade-away into near nothingness with growing distance. life where yuuta has a girlfriend ( that isn’t you ) drains the happiness that you got from being around your childhood best friend. it’s selfish, you know, to have wanted to keep him all to yourself. to have him want you instead of her.

they make plans for after school, babies with names that start with the same letters as theirs and a wedding that’ll be small and flowery and whatever rika wants because yuuta okkotsu would give the girl he loves the entire world. you so badly want to be her. that person who is the centre of his universe. it should be you, it should have always been you — making plans with yuuta and imagining the perfect ring, the one that he would give you in the front yard of his childhood home. it should be your life with him, one that you’d dreamt up with him…and the sick thing is, you can’t have him — because you’re best friends and you’d be risking it all in the name of childish love.

rika, dies just days shy of your highschool graduation and it changes your best friend. a tragic car accident violently takes her life and okkotsu along with it. he’s a shell of the person he used to be, void of his dazzling smile and the comforting warmth that was unavoidable if you spent even just a minute with him. yuuta used to be like sun rays on a sunday morning but after the incident, he felt like blizzards on a dark november's eve. he lost his love, and you were starting to lose him even more than before.

his first love is memorialised at the graduation ceremony and while everyone sends her their thoughts and prayers — you feel sick to your stomach, knowing that for a brief second you’d felt relieved that your competition was gone. loving him was forbidden, he’d just lost his person and so despite your guilt you had to stick it out. be there for him. be there for your friend above all else and hold him up so that he didn’t sink in the deep water of his own grief. you’d save him, at all costs, you’d stop him before he drowned.

things start to look up when the pair of you head to college — you both get into the same school and find the cutest little off-campus apartment to share. it feels like a home away from home to you both, since your nights before semester begins are spent attempting to master your mother’s famous cookies while practising how to introduce yourselves since you’re both nervous as hell for this new beginning. everything feels like it was when you were both children and didn’t have a single thing to worry about — except now there’s crippling student debt and a four year workload ahead of you…but you’re both excited, together again and it seems like the distance between you has shrunk just a little.

then your love life takes a turn for the worst ( yet again ) and yuuta finds himself running around town with a new crew of friends that he met in a club run by one of your elective professors, satoru gojo. they stay out later than you’re used to and your best friend comes home smelling different too, of strong perfumes and cigarette butts even though you know he doesn’t smoke. as it turns out, there’s another girl.

maki zenin.

you don’t like her, and to be fair, she doesn’t like you either. so you keep your distance once more, keep your head down when maki does her faux walk of shame out of your best friend’s room — her thighs and her neck covered in bite marks and scratches, his shirt slipped over her body to cover the rest of her decency. he made her breakfast with your food and tea in your designated mug. it hurts to hear her mewl the sweet syllables of his name late at night while you’re stuck with the soundtrack to your own sobs.

it should be like this, distant — far apart because you care about okkotsu and you love him, so it’d be better to avoid it all rather than get him hurt.

your phone ringing in the distance gently lulls you from your reminiscent thoughts and you scramble to pick it up before you end up with a missed call.

yuuta’s contact flashes across your screen, framed by light and making him look like an angel. it rings and rings, and you know that you should let it go to voicemail. let the space between you grow so you can protect what’s left of his soul.

but you were never strong when it came to him.

and you pick up before he can listen to another second of dial tones.

voicemail #1 - “hey yuuta, i hope you’re good, you’ll never guess who stopped by the cafe today— professor satoru! i haven’t seen him since your graduation! anyways, are you still coming over for dinner tonight? i miss you!”

this isn’t like him.

even after all these years, from pre-k to college — yuuta okkotsu has never missed one of your calls. after graduating you'd made a promise to one another, to keep contact no matter where life took you, a promise of his own volition. you’d have dinner with each other at least once a week just like when you were kids and catch up on your not-so crazy adventures into adulthood.

you kept up your end of the bargain as your way of keeping okkotsu afloat — to ground him. he’d seen and been through enough hurt to last him a lifetime and if he had to use you as a crutch for comfort, despite your raging feelings for him, then so be it. so you never missed a call, always checked in and made him something nostalgic and tied to the memories of afternoons where your mother would fill you up with her wondrous baked goods or heartwarming soups.

but still, this isn’t like yuuta to not pick up when you call.

to feel…more distant than usual and of his own accord.

panic sets in while you listen to the third dial tone, trying to contact him again. taking a deep breath, you pace around the fridge-freezer in the back of your bakery — one that you’d set up shortly after graduating from your business degree. there had to be some explanation for your best friend’s absence. perhaps traffic? maybe he was on the subway catching a ride over? or maybe he just needed space. he’d been going through a lot recently. yuuta didn’t get a job straight out of college and he broke things off with maki shortly after — they wanted different things and had different aspirations.

even still, with the free time left on his hands, there was too much room for him to think about his losses and his loves…it made you worry for him, it made you panic and chew on your nails just like this. “c’mon yu,” you whisper to yourself, the shaky syllables of your words bouncing off the metal house for your ingredients, muffled by paper bags of powdered sugar and organic flours. “where are you?”

you can barely hear the automated message telling you to leave a voicemail for your friend over the bustling of your afternoon service. if yuuta hadn’t been off the grid, he’d be here helping you with the customers that know him all too well, the old ladies that pinch his cheeks and the younger ones that twirl their hair in an attempt to flirt over miniature cherry bakewell tarts. except he’s nowhere to be found, and you’re nauseous, worried sick about where he could be and what he could be up to.

you try his cell one more time in an attempt to grab at his attention. there's something weird about today...as if he’s avoiding you, hiding. yuuta always picks up and you always pick up for him, it’s an unspoken rule.

when you’re met with the dial tones again, you hang up — slumped and distraught. there’s hungry customers to feed and you’re overly friendly college professor waiting on a fresh box of sweets you’d used as an excuse to escape to the back of your shop. yuuta can wait for another call from you.

but you’re not sure if your heart can wait for one back from him.

voicemail #2 - “it’s yuuta, we need to talk.”

oddly enough, silence is comforting to you. it reminds you of your best friend, the nights you’d spend coupled up in your dorm with your fingers running through his silken midnight hair, his head in your lap and the both of you shrouded in darkness. more often than not, you could tell how one another’s days went just by body language and when shoulders were slumped and eyes were droopy — yourself and yuuta would curl up together and just…take in the quiet.

be close to one another.

so, you bask in the tranquillity of your quaint little cafe as you clear up after a day's work. you sweep floors, wipe tables clean and arrange the tables and chairs with perfect precision. the only sound that accompanies you is the clink of silverware and porcelain plates as you wash the dishes. it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the slightest noise is enough to make you jump — just like your phone that vibrates deep within your back pocket, startling you as you scramble to dry your hands so you can see if it’s him who’s been trying to get in touch with you.

it’s embarrassing how quick you are to smile when you see a few missed calls and a voice message from yuuta. though you’ve never quite heard the tune of seriousness that plays in his voice before, your heart won’t stop racing at the mere sound of him speaking. your mind wonders…what could be so urgent that he’d need a ‘talk��?’

maybe it was a thank you…for always being beside him or maybe he even liked you. perhaps okkotsu had finally come to his senses and realised how much he’d always needed you…how much he loved you.. the racing thoughts in your brain hopefully jump towards a confession from your best friend and you find yourself getting giddy at its prospect. you practically skip, hop and jump to the back of your cafe, switching out your flour stained clothes for one of the spare and cleaner shirts you keep in the back — you touch up your makeup too, brighten the dark circles under your eyes and blot your worry lines with care.

you even manage to heat up a few of yuuta’s favourite pastries to serve up by candlelight — rehearsing your own words of confession as if they haven’t been looming around in your head for years.

the bell to your quaint little cafe chimes with his arrival, a rush of cool, late night air tangling with the temperate atmosphere as you lay your finishing touches on the meal you’d prepared for you both. when you look up, yuuta’s eyes have settled on you — warm and inviting as usual, but bright with a light that had been missing from them since you were young. you’ve missed it, the subtle spark that brings life to the coffee brown oasis in his eyes.

he remains as handsome as ever, taller than you by however many heads — limbs long, arms slightly muscular and waist slender, though his build is more like a dancer’s. yuuta okkotsu grew up to be a fine man and you’d be a fool to have not noticed. he crosses the room in short strides, rushing to take you into his arms and hold you close and squeeze you to his chest. yuuta smells like cookies, you note, hardly paying attention while his lips softly brush over your hairline in a sweet kiss.

“hi,” he whispers, voice smooth like melted chocolate dripping through your ears. “i’ve missed you.”

you only hope that he can’t hear your racing heartbeat, it’s speed picking up as you decide that this is your moment. the moment. “i’ve missed you too,” you mumble back, toying with a loose string on the cream cashmere the dark brunette is wearing. “yuuta…i have to tell you something—“

“i-i have something important to tell you,” he breathes out at the same time as you do, almost shy as you both sway in the centre of the room and enjoy one another’s embrace.

the both of you share a laugh that’s light and airy before you drag him over to a table and set of chairs, forcing him to sit and to eat the baked goods you’d set out for him. “you first, yuu,” it makes you happy to see him tuck in, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “you owe me a story after disappearing on me today.”

okkotsu nods in agreement, his cheeks adorably full of food and pastry flaked across his milky skin. “‘m sorry, i was sortin’ something out la’sht minute.”

“yeah?”

“y-yeah! i’m moving,” yuuta drops the bomb like it’s nothing. “abroad. for a job! professor gojo set me up and it’s s-supposed to help build my confidence and stuff—“

your world falls apart in an instant, sucking away the oxygen in your lungs until you feel like your lungs are failing. yuuta is leaving you and this time it’s for real.

confessing to him now wouldn't mean shit, you’d only be holding him back. your face crumples faster than you can control at the thought and after years of knowing you— okkotsu instantly picks up your change in mood.

“what’s wrong?” he says your name and even that hurts to hear.

“n-nothin’ yuu, i’m happy for you, really.” comes your broken voice over the quiet, you fake it until you make it.

“really? you don’t look like it.”

running a hand over your tired face, you force a smile. “really. especially if you think this is what’s best for you.”

“it is!” yuuta nearly snaps, controlling himself— stopping himself from yelling at you and tearing your friendship apart before he’s gone. “i need this, need’a be my own person. after college, after highschool i didn’t have time for any of that! i need this.”

needs it more than he needs you.

“okay.” you say simply, blankly.

“okay.” he says back.

the debate doesn’t last that much longer after that — the room fills with silence as you grieve your faltering friendship. whatever confession you had planned, now forgotten.

voicemail #3 - “yuuta! i wasn’t sure how long your flight was but please call me when you land! you’re gonna do great at your new job.”

yuuta doesn’t call after he lands, in fact two entire days pass before you actually hear from him. after the argument, you’d try to stay on good terms as though not to lose him for good — helping him pack and sort out his currencies, buying him language books since you knew he would struggle with the new dialect.

you figure it’s because he’s unpacking and not because he doesn’t want anything to do with you — and while you make some late night tea, you find that it’s better to imagine him alone in a new foreign country, picture his pretty pink lips struggling to form the vowels of the new language too, envision how he’ll tan under the blistering hot heat and how excited he’ll be to try new things.

its humiliating how easily he can preoccupy your thoughts from thousands of miles away and makes your heart race so fast that it might burst through the bones and flesh of your chest. he occupies your every thought like a fungus crawling across your brain that’s only disrupted by the sound of your phone ringing loudly — making you drop your tea and jump up to answer.

“hey,” the way yuuta says your name sends tingles down your spine — filtering out any pain you feel from burning your hand. he looks good too, dark hair flopping over his eyes, voice gravelly with sleep as if he’s just woken up and you’re the first thing on his mind. “i got your message, s-sorry for not calling i’ve been—“

you cut him off, eager to speak and draw the call out for as long as possible because you missed him. “busy? a guy like you must be extremely popular on the other side of the world.” you’re chipper in an attempt to cover how flustered you are and to cheer your best friend up when you notice how nervous he looks.

“not exactly… i’m nervous. e-everything seems so big ‘nd scary without you here…”

without you.

you shake your head over the grainy FaceTime call. “you’ve always done fine without me, you’ll do even better without having to cover for my shyness!” he laughs at that, the sound like a sweet song to soothe your aching heart. “you got this yuuta.”

your best friend gives you a sleepy smile, one that melts you like a knob of butter on a hot stove and has your knees knocking. “you’re the best, you know that? you always know what to say.”

the static crackles between you and your heart leaps into your throat.

“i’m always here for you, yuuta.”

“and i’m glad for that,” he yawns. “i love you.”

you have to remind yourself that what your best friend says is strictly platonic but you almost selfishly repeat the words back to yuuta until you notice he’s fallen back asleep.

ending the call, you clutch your phone and burned hand to your chest.

“i love you too.”

voicemail #4 - “hey sorry i missed your call, time zones can be crazy! work has been catching up with me and, well, i made a new friend!”

for the first week, you and yuuta text everyday while he’s away. you do your duty and act as his crutch like you always have— keeping him company while he works, eats and commutes all on his own. you feel bad that you lap up the attention he gives you over the phone through his loneliness. you could be compared to a desperately hungry stray animal at the way you drink up every little interaction you have. giving pieces of yourself away to keep your best friend happy.

but as time goes on, okkotsu seems less and less worried about his job — easily slipping into the language here and there, no longer relying on you to stand on his own two feet. the frequency of your communication dwindles to the point where you really feel like you’re oceans apart.

even yuuta notices the change within himself — the confidence that filters through him when he says yes to the pretty girl who works in the cubicle next to him when she asks him to tag along for drinks with the rest of the office one night which soon becomes a regular thing. he knows that he speaks less with you and that your texts are barely there but he’s sure you won’t mind the distance. you’re a busy girl, you run a cafe, a few days of not talking wouldn’t do any harm.

“oooh, she’s pretty. who is that?”

kasumi miwa is the one to pull yuuta out from the fog of his thoughts. the brunette looks up from his phone, your face flashing across it’s lock screen as the background. a photo where you have your arms wrapped around him from behind and your smile is as bright as the sunshine. miwa is a pretty girl, different from you. her voice is smoother and eloquent where yours is charming and sweet — she doesn’t remind him of home, or smell like the warmth of a chocolate chip cookie…but she is pretty. her presence is enough to make him shy.

he’s caught her looking a few times, her touch lingering whenever miwa passed him paperwork and right now; her cheeks are tinged pink probably from the alcohol the office is drinking inside where yuuta had come out for some fresh air.

okkotsu clicks his phone shut and stands up at full height to face his blue-haired coworker. “i… i haven’t spoken to her in a while. i miss her.” he says wistfully as he gives your name

“well, if i were dating a girl that pretty, i would miss them too.”

“o-oh! we’re not together! she’s my best friend!”

the woman beside yuuta cocks her head, a satisfied grin spreading across the slope of her lips. “you should call her — i’ll be waiting inside.”

he follows her eyes as she walks off, along with the whiff of her chanel perfume, before his gaze lands on his phone — he calls your phone.

you answer after the second ring, though don’t speak straight away, letting the silence wear the both of you thin. “how’ve you been?” you say quietly, lacking the chipperness to your tone that you usually have whenever the two of you ring each other up. there’s no hello, no warmth, you’re cold.

but yuuta doesn’t ask — he’d like to think he knows you well enough not to. he thinks that you’re fine, probably tired from work and it’s late over there too. if he cared to catch up with you, he’d have been more considerate of that.

“good!” the brunette chirps in order to keep the mood light, leaning over a nearby railing. i miss you. yuuta wants to add, but the words feel like cotton in his mouth, sticking unpleasantly to every surface and for some reason they don’t feel right to say— feel foreign. “work’s been good. i think i’m getting the hang of things around here. my co-workers are great, i get this amazing view every morning a-and—“

“and?”

“i met someone! i think! i wanna get to know her more but she’s been great to me so far…you’d like her!”

hearts don’t make a sound when they break, but if they did— you’re sure that yuuta would have been able to hear yours even from halfway across the globe. over his own ramblings he can hardly make out the shatter of your vital organ as it falls to pieces, cracks into tiny shards with jagged edges that could make you bleed if you tried to put it back together…because your best friend having met someone means he’s moving on. leaving you behind. and he’s too tone deaf to notice.

through the static of a phone call, okkotsu misses the crumple of your face and the way your throat bobs as you swallow back salty tears and two decades worth of unrequited love. you’re devastated and he can’t even tell, barely noticing the way you rush off the phone while he’s halfway through a sentence.

his brows furrow when he realises you’ve hung up.

“i take it that didn’t go well?” kasumi questions when yuuta re-renters the bar, her face sympathetic but voice elevated with smugness.

he shakes his head once. “no, but it’s okay. she’s been busy.”

he excuses you but kasumi doesn’t let up, pushing for more of yuuta — breaking him out from his shell, stealing and keeping the pearl of his heart for her taking. “don’t be too sad yuuta, you have me and your new friends, we’ll keep you company instead.”

there’s a hidden meaning behind her cherry picked words. she’ll keep him company — and for once, yuuta doesn’t feel guilty for trying to break away from you.

voicemail #5 - “what happened between us yuuta? you used to tell me everything and now you’ve got a girlfriend? i didn’t even find out through you!”

there’s an unspoken rule to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s – you’re supposed to tell each other everything. there’s not been a secret between you in all the years you’ve known each other except for minor white lies that couldn’t amount to major forms of harm. he might have told you that your hair looked fine on days where you’d barely any time to tend to it and you might have told him that he hadn’t been awkward presenting in front of your entire college class… but those were worthless lies. strings of words tied together that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t have any intent to harm.

there were no secrets, no major ones.

until now.

“he’s got a girlfriend, yanno…”

the news is shared with you casually from over the counter one day by your irritating white-haired ex-professor who makes a habit of annoying his old students. he comes in for sweets often and the daifuku you make is his favourite – you offer him extra in exchange for updates on the classmates you used to share since he’s nosey like that.

with every visit to your little cafe, gojo filled you in on everything yuuta had been up to in the blurred weeks and months since you’d last spoken – including his relationship status. “she’s pretty too, long hair. s’blue which is an odd colour, but she’s been good to him, ‘pparently. boosted his confidence.”’ the man cocks his head, watching in real-time as your movements in packing up his order slow down.

your throat bobs whilst you swallow your fading pride in front of your teacher, forcing down a wave of tears. it doesn’t matter how many times yuuta gets over you, moves on from you, finds someone to love other than you… it still hurts. it’ll always hurt knowing that he can fill the other half of his heart with someone that isn't you, while your own stays void and empty.

as always, satoru gojo sees right through your resolve as you total up his order – again forgoing charging him extra for the little tid bit of gossip he’d given you. there’s a shell of someone he doesn’t recognise in place of the girl he used to teach – the one who was once full of life and eager to learn, get out into the world and achieve your dreams. yuuta okkotsu had chipped away at you, the years you’d spent protecting his feelings had caused you to drown in your own.

and gojo could see that, he knew that. he’d been through it before.

he only wishes he had better words of comfort for you.

“you love him, don’t you?” he asks you quietly as you ring him up but you answer with his total in yen instead – sniffling as you do. professor gojo takes his brown paper bag, full of enough sugar to make the heart stop – to kill a person, but even that’s a better death than the heartache you’re going through now. you sniff and he offers you a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach the sapphire eyes behind his shades. “better yet, don’t answer that. i don’t need anymore tears in my daifuku.”

voicemail #6 - “oh fuck yuuji, right there…” “here baby? oh you’re so cute, fuck ‘m gonna—!” “oh… yuuji!”

( incoming voicemail from - yuuta: “hey, call me back? who’s yuuji? are you okay?” )

yuuta knows that he shouldn’t have kept listening – he should have deleted the voicemail as soon as he caught onto what was happening. it didn’t take a genius to know what was going on, the sounds of skin slapping on skin, your voice wavering with the tune of lust even over the static crackle of the voicemail you’d left.

he wishes that he’d never heard you moan out like that for someone else, that he wasn’t picturing the faces you’d make underneath the body of another man…but he couldn’t help it. the more he listened, the angrier he felt, the more betrayal flooded his veins and clouded his usually clear judgement. the brunette had no right to be this mad at you, he was supposed to be happy with miwa, supposed to be letting you move on just like he had done from you.

and yet, like a necrotizing parasite – jealousy feasts at the back of okkotsu’s mind. it disrupts his work, distracts him from his girlfriend and fills his mind with flashing images of you being fucked five ways by another man. one that isn’t him. yuuji. who even is yuuji? how did you meet him? were you dating him? you hadn’t talked in so long so the guy had barely come up in conversation. you were best friends that used to tell each other everything and now he felt like you were fucking someone new behind his back. yuuta knew nothing of what that stranger meant to you, he had no idea that yuuji itadori was just some college boy you’d brought home one drunken night – to act as a salve for the burns your childhood best friend had left on you.

it's a temporary fix, yuuji’s tongue laps at your wounds – pleasures you with teeth and tongue until your head is light and you’re almost too dizzy to think properly. in the moment, he felt good, he took care of you…but he wasn’t who you wanted. he wasn’t yuuta.

was it bad that you basked in the jealous rage and attention the brunette had bathed you in? drowning you in a barrage of text messages the morning after you’d slept with itadori, when yuuta finally had the chance to listen to the voicemail you’d left by accident. it was the most you’d gotten out of him in the months you’d been separated.

yuuta - 7:16AM: hey…did you mean to send that? call me when you’re up.

yuuta - 7:45AM: i don’t think i was supposed to hear that…

yuuta - 8:34AM: who’s yuuji?

yuuta - 8:36AM: are you seeing someone? call me please.

yuuta - 8:57AM: pick up the phone.

yuuta - 9:21AM: it’s not funny anymore. i’m worried. pick up.

you answer your phone around noon, having given yourself the space to think over cooking a hang-over breakfast for yuuji. the sounds of spitting oil underneath frying eggs had provided the soundtrack to your thoughts – helped you pick and choose the words you would say to yuuta before your companion slips out of your apartment and you tell him to grab a pastry from your cafe downstairs on his way out. a little thank you for the night you’d shared.

“what the hell was that?” is the first thing yuuta snarls down the line once your call connects.

you shift your phone in your grasp, as if his seething tone has scorched the palm of your hand. “are we past greetings or somethin’, yuu?” you fail to admit that it hurts you, starting the call without his tender and caring ‘hello’, you feel like an enemy on the battlefield to okkotsu, rather than his friend.

“i think we are well past that, especially with the kind of voice messages you’ve been leaving me.” he says it like he’s disgusted with you, when he really just misses you. craves you. he’s angry at himself and for letting you slip between his fingers into the grasp of another man. not at you. never at you. but even cell phone lines connecting calls from across the globe can’t properly convey the way yuuta feels. “what’s going on with you? why are you acting like this? we haven’t spoken in weeks and you–?”

“why is what i do any of your business anymore, yuuta?” you snap through his flurry of questions, growing heated yourself. “i accidentally left you a voicemail of me fucking someone, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”

“you’re just… not like this. we don’t speak and all of a sudden…y-you’re different!”

you clutch the phone tighter, swallowing thickly. “and who’s fault is that? let me answer that for you. it’s yours. you’re the one who got a girlfriend and left me in the dust. not the other way around!” you argue, trying to sound stern and steady though yuuta can hear the wobble to your words loud and clear. “you shouldn’t have listened, you should have called. you let the distance become a problem between us.”

he scoffs, an action so unlike your best friend. “we’re not children anymore! you should have talked to me about the distance!”

“i couldn't!” you defend yourself, desperate for the pain in your heart to be heard for once. “you were finally happy again yuuta! that mattered to me—“

“you think i'm happy about hearing my best friend get…defiled over the phone?”

“well you should be! it means I’m not hung up on you anymore, that i’m moving on from being in love with you! leaving you so that you can be happy in your new life!”

the silence from yuuta’s end of the phone is both too loud and too deafening.

“you…loved me?” he whispers, switching back to that same sweet tone he always used when it came to you. “why didn’t you say?”

your stupid little confession, the one you’d been holding back for more than half your life, sips out before you can catch it with the tip of your tongue and you instantly feel terrible for weaponizing your crush on okkotsu against him. at least that’s what it feels like you’ve done. “i never told you…because i’m not selfish, yuuta,” you stutter out, your face hot with oncoming and flustered tears. “i-i'm not a selfish person. i wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship or your happiness, not just because i loved you.”

yuuta says your name, but blood rushes through your ears in embarrassment – way too fast for you to catch it, and you hang up before you can humiliate yourself any further.

before you can hear him say that he loves you too.

voicemail #7 - “open up, i'm coming home. please be here when I’m home.”

the number you have dialled is unavailable, please try again later.

after the slip of your tongue and confession to yuuta— he was met with radio silence. you’d blocked him on every form of social media possible and he couldn’t even blame you. you wanted to be free from him, from that silly and imaginary red string that had kept you tied to his soul for all of these years. it hurt to think when everything reminded you of him, so you buried yourself in your cafe and worked yourself to death because even the sweet relief from life would be better than living without your best friend.

gojo had stopped by and taken you to the hospital twice since you’d worked yourself into exhaustion — tonight was no different, sentenced to bed rest by your ex-professor and the best doctor he could find. he always did look out for his students.

sleeping your sadness away had caused you to miss a barrage of yuuta’s calls — if you’d picked up you’d have known that he was coming home. coming home for you. in the wake of your love confession, okkotsu had realised how much he needed you and how much he loved you. you had never left his side, no matter what yuuta had been through, and now, nothing feels right without you.

so he broke up with his girlfriend, took leave from his job and flew halfway across the world for you — to give his message in person.

it’s near midnight by the time yuuta gets back to japan, the warm yellow of the streetlights illuminating the path right up to your apartment after getting out of the uber. there’s a spare house key, glinting gold, hidden under your cupcake shaped doormat just as yuuta remembers and he uses it to slip inside — dumping his bag and kicking his shoes off at the entryway. his socked feet locate the bedroom with ease, perhaps drawn by your aura and the anticipation of seeing you again.

and there you are, so close yet so far away — your face peaceful and painted with an adorable expression of slumber. okkotsu notes the way your chest slowly rises and falls, the crease between your brow as if you’re having a bad dream. he could fix it… whatever’s plaguing your sleeping mind, he knows that he can, because whenever you touch each other, it’s like your bodies know to relax and that they’re safe.

tiptoeing deeper into the room, the brunette slinks up to the side of your bed and the mattress dips underneath the weight of his knee as he seats himself beside you. you’re so beautiful, so calm. he doesn’t know how he went his whole life without choosing you, choosing other people over you time and time again. “i love you,” yuuta whispers into the dead of the night, brushing a thumb and forefinger over the apple of your cheek — hesitating when you roll into his body heat. “i love you. i’m so sorry.” he says again, while pressing a feather light kiss to that same spot.

his breath hitches when you reach for him this time, grabbing at the man in your sleep.

yuuta kisses you again, but on your forehead. then your other cheek, your chin, your inner wrists and finally — your lips. each brush of his own against you is increasingly feverish, pouring unspoken emotions into them as he quietly utters the words ‘i love you.’ over and over again. he feels like he has something to prove, as if the brunette has to show you how much he cares for you — leaving a trail of sweet smooches between the valley of your breasts from over your night-shirt to between your thighs that spill out of the loose material.

he only hopes that this is enough for you to forgive him, for you to love him back like he does you.

your best friend… or ex best friend really should feel bad about this, teething on the swell of your thighs— his fingertips sinking into their apex to pry you apart for him. you could end up hating him more for this, yuuta’s slick and drool stained tongue rolling over the seam at the crotch of your panties hungrily, softly as if to test the waters. he takes it as a good sign when your face contorts with pleasure even in your sleep and slots his entire mouth against the sweet treasure between your legs— sucking the juices from the fabric of your underwear.

you taste so good and he’s not even got you properly wet yet. yuuta’s next move is to hook two fingers over the garment to pull it aside — revealing your twitching hot cunt to the cool night air in your bedroom. even your scent is divine, enticing just as you’ve always been and the brunette can’t believe he was too blind to see it before. he presses a chase kiss to your clit, feeling it pulse to life against his lips before said kisses become open mouthed and sloppy— tongue diving into the tightness of your little hole, circling it to flick your flavour back into his mouth.

his movements start slow, tenderly testing which spots inside your pretty little cunt make you sigh out contently while you slumber but the wetter you get, the sloppier yuuta becomes — lapping at your sex and your clit in eager movements like a kitten at a bowl of milk. you only stir awake when his fingers travel up to grip onto your ass and tug your pussy onto his face, guiding you up and down on his writhing tongue like he’s fucking you for real.

“y-yuu?” you grumble, still finding your footing in the reality of consciousness. “whas’ h-happenin’… oh my god—!” the questions you have for the mop of hair between your legs, groaning like a starved man into there too, taper into an angelic moan. pretty and airy, like music to yuuta’s ears. once you come to and fully realise what’s going on, your fingers slip into the roots of his hair and your hips buck into his mouth instinctively — even though you should be pissed. even though you should be screaming at him and kicking him off. you can’t help it that this is what you’ve always wanted. that you’ve always wanted him.

“w-what are you doing here?” you manage to ask through a whine, brain fogging up at the way yuuta’s tongue runs laps over your swelling clit.

he pulls off of you with a lewd pop that makes both of you shudder, two of his slender digits easily sliding into you where his tongue once was — guided by spit and slick. “i came home for you. i love you,” your best friend doesn’t have time to formulate proper reasoning, drunk on your saccharine flavour like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had the honour of tasting. “f-fuck, i-i missed you.”

yuuta gives you those big puppy dog eyes as he curls his digits inside of you and hits spots you can't quite reach on your own. you should be talking about your feelings not fucking through them but you’ve missed him so much and need him so bad. both of you groan in unison when he brushes over your g-spot, your hips jumping up and his grinding down into your silky sheets.

“missed you too,” you breathe and yank him up by the hair to meet your lips — making out with him feverishly, swapping the words your mind can’t seem to force you to say, pouring the mixed emotions into him as he finger fucks your tight little hole like his life depends on it.

every movement you make with one another is sloppy and uncoordinated, tongues doused in one another’s saliva— saliva that tastes like you. your moans mingle in the hot and heavy air and you clench down on yuuta’s fingers as they pump in and out of you, his palm slapping against your folds while you leak into the seat of his palm.

“are you close?” yuuta slurs into your mouth so quietly you almost miss it underneath the lewd sound of your pussy. “i want to make you cum, show you how much i love you.”

blood rushes through your ears, heat pin pricking like needles under your skin. “y-yes. p-please yuu…”

his thumb dragging smooth circles over the pulsating bud between your blooming pussy lips is all you need to trip over the edge into your high— the knots in your lower tummy unwinding faster than you can register, waves of your nectar flowing from your cunt onto the sheets below and soiling yuuta’s hand right up to his wrist.

your head tips back into a high pitched squeal, eyes locked away and rolling back while you damn near black out from your orgasm. but your best friend is right there like he should be, sucking love-bites into your neck to ground you. dark tresses of yuuta’s chocolate-like hair tickle at your tingling flesh while he manoeuvres himself between your legs and shifts his pants down enough to let his rock hard cock spring free.

“c-can you take me now?” he pleads more than he asks, brown and warm eyes trembling with need, anticipation. “i don’t think i’ll last long and i need you.”

you feel him press at your entrance, his angry red tip glistening with opaque beads of precum— yuuta softly ruts his hips against you, smearing…claiming you with his own essence while he waits for your consent. “i’ve always needed you, yuuta.” you say breathlessly, giving him a small grin and nod when he looks up from drooling against your neck.

that’s all the go ahead he needs before his thick girth pushes all the way into you at once — weighty and temperate against your ribbed and creamy walls. “‘ohmyfuckinggod,” he whimpers wetly against you. “y-you’re so tight wrapped around me. so perfect i—“

“move, yuuta. fuck me, please,” you remind him, tugging on his air and crossing your ankles at the base of his spine.

“y-yeah okay…g-god you’re so good. so sweet ‘n tight.” with that, he draws his hips back — hesitant at first. brown eyes watch your face for any signs of discomfort and yuuta’s lust driven instincts take the lead when he only notices how blissed out you look. your pretty lips are agasp, forming a pleasure-filled ‘o’ as you mewl and claw at his half-clothed shoulders. “i love you, o-oh god!”

all you can do is whimper in response, fingers drifting up to the nape of yuuta’s neck to tangle in his dark locks— tugging him into you as if it’ll make him hit deeper, churn up your guts and make you see stars. “y-you’re stupid…” you manage to get out, the warmth of your breath glossing his lips as if to taunt your best friend with a kiss.

“i know…” calloused fingers grab at the backs of your thighs with a bruising grip before yuuta pushes your legs towards your shoulders, both of you grunting and whining in unison when you tighten around him at the new angle. gushing sweet juices that paint his stomach and pelvis.

“y-you shouldn’t have left me,” tears start to brim, collecting in your lash line like diamonds before they hit your cheeks.

you’re so beautiful like this, even when you’re crying— when you’re crying because you’re fucked up on his cock, claiming it with your cream as ur clings to his balls and the veins that spital down his length.

yuuta’s red hot tip nudges against the soft and squishy spots along your sensitive walls, keeping his thrusts at a rhythmic and passionate pace to make sure the only thing you feel is heaven on earth. your pussy is hot and warm and heaven-like around him, sucking him in so selfishly and tightening every time yuuta’s strong abs grind against your puffy clit.

“i know,” he sighs dreamily and with an airy voice, licking a stripe from your chin to your cheek as a tear streaks it’s way down it. “won't ever leave you again,” his fingers touch at your face, sinking into the softness of your cheeks as he drags you up to face him. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“never?” you ask, hiccuping.

“never.” he moans.

you see it there, the love glittering amongst the almond flecks in your childhood best friend’s eyes — he means it, he promises it and you can feel it with every roll of yuuta’s hips into you while he pins you to the bed. he makes love to you and says what he needs to through his actions this time. through your tangled mess of sweaty limbs and fluttering lashes you find okkotsu’s hand, linking them together.

the sight of your hands meeting one another brings emotions bubbling to the surface of your skin, hot to yuuta’s touch — it's a symbol that you’ve finally come together after being worlds apart for so long. “you’re finally mine, ‘m never letting you go,” his warm breath coasts across the seam of your lips before he dips into kiss you— tongue gliding over yours as it pushes into the depths of your mouth just as his cock does, brushing up against your g-spot and just kissing your cervix. “you’re always going to be mine.”

“i-i’m yours,” your eyes roll back and yuuta loses his pace, his entire body twitching the closer you both get. sex taints the air, both in sound and scent, your cunt squelching around him with how wet you are and how much he leaks into you. “g-gonna cum, yuu! make me cum, make me fucking cum.” you slur out, anchoring the man down to you with your arms around his neck until yuuta’s forehead is pressed against yours. sweaty locks of his hair and all.

yuuta’s body collapses against you and his thrusts switch to sensual grinds that never let up on your spongey g-spot. “f-fuck me, b-baby. ‘m cummin’,” he croons, panting against your lips and with one, two, three more pumps you’re squirting all over him— the pressure unwinds in your lower belly and you’re hit with blinding white lights and your nails dig into yuuta’s shoulder to the point where you leave bright red crescent moons. “that’s it baby, cum for me, make a mess for me. show me you love me— fuck!”

you’re still trembling with the aftershocks with your orgasm when the brunette follows suit — the warmth of his seed floods your quivering cunt, painting your folds an opaque white before yuuta pulls out. the last droplets of his cum hit your soft tummy accompanied by his high pitched whine and then he crumples against you, exhausted from the height of it all.

“i love you so much,” yuuta hums against your skin, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “it’s always been you.”

“i love you,” you affirm, knowing that no matter what distance is put between you and your best friend (now lover) — you’ll always find your way back to each other.

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lividmorbidity · 2 years

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Was reminded of my excuse of a CoDCW fic AfterEffect and I gag

#call of duty cold war #call of duty #uggghh that shit is terrible #OBVIOUSLY not continuing or remastering it cuz. reasons.#I was inspired off of another fic on ao3 so...go find that one #its called Distance Makes The Heart Grow Fonder by TooManyPennies #PLEASE its is so much better although they haven't updated yet in a while

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lycanhood · 2 years

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Chapter 16 of Fonder by lycanhood, updating for the first time in a long time. Long awaited & much deserved Girls' Day Part 1

#supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #ao3 fanfic #ao3feed #supercorp fanfic #fonder by lycanhood #fanfic update #karlena

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colormepurplex2 · 4 months

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Now I'm Yours | JJK

🤍Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader 🤍A/B/O, Established Relationship/Mates | angst, smut, fluff 🤍WC: 14,064 🤍Rating: MA 🤍Summary: Jungkook is terrible at feelings. He’s possessive, reckless, and most definitely an Alphahole; you were once his sworn enemy for a reason. But, after he claimed you as his mate during your designation celebration, how do you even begin to navigate the dark waters of such a precarious relationship? Especially when there is darkness creeping over the horizon, threatening to blanket your world in permanent shadow. ⚠️ Vulgar language, semi-hate sex, fingering, knotting, creampie, discussion of violent acts, drinking, fighting/physical altercation, alpha challenge, knife violence/attack, blood, injury, bond sex, dick licking/oral, slick eating, biting/marking, blood/wound licking, surprise pregnancy Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Read Make You Mine, the first installment of the series, here!

Chapter 1. Distance Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

Chapter 2. Feel It In Your Soul

This story is complete.

A/N: This story is part of the "New Year, New Me Love" @bangtanwritershq gift exchange, written for the wonderful @hisunshiine! And as always, a special thank you to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for being A+ betas!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-02 ColorMePurplex2

#bts #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts angst #bts smut #bts non idol au #bts abo #jungkook abo #alpha jungkook #omega reader #abo smut #bts knotting #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts enemies to lovers #alpha jungkook x omega reader #jungkook smut #bangtanwhq #btscreaturescoven

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a-case-of-attachment · 4 months

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The Lamb & The Serpent

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Lucifer Morningstar x sinner fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Lucifer being a chaotic mess, mentions of sex, swearing, slow burn, mentions of depression, Charlie being the best supportive daughter, awkwardness, mentioned of death and violence, ducks of the rubber kind, Lucifer being awkward, fluff.

Please click -> here <- to read on AO3

The day Lucifer manages to fuck up a perfectly good friendship by realising he wants more from you is the day he walks in on you and Angel Dust watching his latest porn video like it’s a documentary and not a three way that looks more painful then pleasurable.

It’s the middle of the day, the two of you down in the parlour, spread over the largest couch and acting like it’s no big deal to be watching a friend get split open by an aggressively large rhino looking man and an equally intimidating elephant guy whose trunk isn’t the only big thing he’s packing. Though to the little porn star it probably isn’t anything all that unusual and by the way he’s going on, talking about camera angles and lighting you would think it was some kind art piece. Anyway, it’s not the porn that has Lucifer questioning his life, though that stirs something at the back of his mind that he will circle back round to latter. Much latter. When he’s alone. Preferably in his bedroom. No what Lucifer realises is that he wants to be where Angel Dust is.

The lanky demon was stretched across the sofa, his bare feet in your lap so you could slowly rub your thumbs into his soles as you both spoke about the film like it wasn’t a crass tasteless violation of the man. It looked so domestic, peaceful and Lucifer wanted that to be you and him with a desperation he hadn’t felt in centuries. Though maybe with his head in your lap instead of his feet, your fingers carding softly through his hair as the two of you just exist together in the same shared space. Oh, he could almost feel it, the ghost of a feeling that he hadn’t had in so long.

It was round about then, as Lucifer was just about to get lost in his little fantasy that Angel noticed he was there, eyes going wide momentarily before a suggestive smile spread across his face. He had made a rather unwanted comment about Lucifer not needing to “hide all the way back there handsome, there’s plenty of room for you to slide right in. Or maybe you want a private show? I could go for a little quality time with daddy.” Lucifer wasn’t. Interested that is. Well not in Angel Dust anyway. “Noooo. No, no, no. Non. Nein. Nee. Just no,” Lucifer had repeated himself several times, just to make sure he got his point across and pointedly ignoring Angel’s rather dramatic gasp and nonsense answer of Lucifer having broken his heart.

Whilst Lucifer and Angel had been talking you had turned to look over at him, clearly surprised by his presence but it quickly softened into something fonder, something that had Lucifers insides twisting like he was full of snakes. Had that always been the way and he just hadn’t noticed? Lucifer had liked having your attention in him for quite some time, but it was hard to tell if that was because he just liked knowing you were actually focused on what he was doing or because he got a little buzz of possessive satisfaction, knowing that he was the only thing you were focused on. Either way Lucifer didn’t dislike having your eyes on him and he would be quite happy to be the only person who held your attention in such a way.

You welcomed him the same way you always did, tipping your head forward slightly and addressing him as “my King.” Not your majesty, or Sir or Sire but as if he was your own personal monarch and oh boy, wasn’t that just something. He really liked the idea of being yours. Your anything but especially your king, your ruler, just yours in general really. Lucifer could feel his cheeks getting hotter as the realisation sank in, his grip tightening on his staff as he fought of the urge to shiver under your gaze. Oh, this was bad, so very, very bad.

You pulled him out of his little panic by asking if he was there to see Charlie. The simple answer to that innocent question was no. Lucifer was at the hotel with the sole purpose of seeing you and hopefully convincing you to abandon whatever you had planned and help him with his ever-growing rubber duckie horde. A rather lame excuse if he had ever heard one but he was running out of legitimate reasons to get you to spend time with him more often than you usually did. He couldn’t tell you that though, so he eagerly jumped on the excuse, excitedly talking about wanting to “spend some quality daddy daughter time with my little Char Char,” and cringing when he remembered what the little spider had just said to him. It sounded off even to him, his forced cheer falling flat at the end and trailing off into an awkward laugh. You didn’t seem to notice his obvious discomfort though, smiling softly at him as you informed him that “Charlie and Vaggie are out at the moment, said something about meeting with Carmilla to discuss angel defences. They didn’t say when they would be back.” Lucifer felt his heart drop, his rather rubbish excuse at being at the hotel now completely useless thanks to his poor planning.

He was just about to make his excuses and go back to his ducks when you said the best thing, he had heard all day and asked him “do you want to stay? Angel gets a little too into his performances (hey!), and I would like the distraction when he really starts getting descriptive.” Lucifer jumped at the chance, blurting out a loud and eager yes before you had even finished talking. Both you and Angel startled at his outburst and Lucifer cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure as he told you that he “suppose I could help, though its going to cost you little lamb. Those little duckies aren’t going to count themselves.” He hadn’t expected you to agree but you had sticking out your hand for Lucifer to shake as you claimed it a deal. An innocent statement on your part but left Lucifer feeling taken aback by how easily you had agreed, then again you did like his duck collection, so it probably wasn’t that much of a sacrifice on your part.

You don’t stop smiling as you push Angel's feet off your lap, the man groaning and rolling his eyes as he moves to slump in the corner, giving you enough room to move up and leave a spot for Lucifer at the end. He feels incredibly stiff and a little awkward as he sinks into the space, sitting ramrod straight with his hands on his knees. He doesn’t know what to do, has never just casually hung out like this with people that weren’t you and he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be watching Angel Dust’s performance or if he would have been better off just making some sort of excuse and going back home to wallow in his awkward patheticness. You shift next to him, curling your legs up under yourself and leaning it towards him. Your breath is warm against his ear when you speak, sending a shiver down his spine and causing his cheeks to heat again. All you said to him was that you were “glad you decided to stick around,” before turning your attention back to the tv and starting up a conversation with Angel once more but it was enough to have Lucifer relaxing, his strained smile slipping into something softer and more genuine.

Lucifer was still there when Charlie and Vaggie came back, except somewhere along the way he had ended up getting involved with yours and Angel’s conversation. He wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but Lucifer had found himself deep in conversation with Angel about the importance of foreplay and how “Valentino always skips it! It’s like he doesn’t understand how to please someone. It adds to the experience, gets everyone involved really going and trust me it makes the main event that much more pleasurable. That idiot just skips to the end like he’s going to blow within five seconds of getting anything on his dick. Oh! Hey Charlie, err, how much of that did you eh hear?” It wasn’t the ideal thing he wanted his daughter to hear him talking about, but he was surprisingly having fun. Plus, he had gotten to see you blush like a maiden when he had first mentioned about the benefits of having such a flexible tongue so he couldn’t say he regretted being part of it.

Charlie had been rather embarrassed about the subject of choice, even more so when Angle piped up and informed her that he was “learning all sorts of fun things Charlie. Like did you know that most women can’t get off just from getting a good dicking, they need murph!” Lucifer had been quick to put a stop to the conversation, shoving a pillow over the other mans face and shoving him off the couch. Ignoring yours and Angels giggling Lucifer had quickly strode round the couch and towards his daughter, grabbing his abandoned hat and cane as he went. He successfully managed to distract Charlie by asking “how was your day sweetie? I heard you went to see Carmilla Carmine, that must have been fun. Tell me about it.” Charlie had started talking almost instantly and Lucifer waisted no time in gently turning her around and ushering her away from the other two and the porn that was still playing quietly on the tv.

Lucifer was listening to Charlie, hanging on every word and taking in as much information as he could because he wanted to know everything about his daughter but then he had caught movement out the corner of his eye and all his attention had snapped back to you. You were leaving, laughing at something Angel was saying as he draped himself dramatically across the back of the couch. You spotted Lucifer staring almost instantly, offering him a bright smile as you waved, calling out about how “lovely to see you my King,” before disappearing up the stairs towards the bedrooms. Lucifer waved back sadly, his eyes following you until you disappeared from sight. The world felt that little bit dimmer as soon as you were gone Lucifer already missing your bright smile and cheerful disposition. Whilst his attention was on you, he didn’t notice the knowing look Charlie and Vaggie shared, or the way Angel Dust rolled his eyes and collapsed back onto the couch with a huff.

The weeks after that were weird to say the least. Lucifer didn’t know what to do with his newly realised feeling or the guilt he felt about moving on from Lilith when it had barely been a handful of years since she had left. He was a bit of a wreck actually, spending far too much time with his rubber ducks and complaining about how hard feelings were to deal with. It didn’t help matters that Charlie was finding every excuse she could to push you and him together. Anything from getting him to help you with things around the hotel, to sending you to pick up bits from his home that Charlie hadn’t shown an interest in for decades.

You were always a good sport about it when the two of you found yourselves forced together again, laughing and making jokes about it and Lucifer did join in but it was strained as he panicked about how he was supposed to act around you now that he knew that this friendship between the two of you wasn’t enough. It was confusing and complicated, not helped by the fact he had no idea how you felt about him. Lucifer knew you liked him, at least as a friend but that was very different to liking him enough to let him smother you in kisses and worship at your feet.

He had been out of the dating game for so long now, well actually he had never really been in it considering he had fallen for and married the first woman he had come across. He had zero experience with this kind of thing, and he highly doubted offering you an apple was going to do anything apart from make sure you were being fed. As much as it pained him to admit he needed help with this and there was only one person he felt comfortable enough with to even bother asking about this kind of stuff.

Charlie was over the moon when he had finally managed to drag her away from the hotel and gotten out what his problem was. Lucifer could admit to himself that he had been worried about how she would react, fearful that she would think he was betraying Lilith, but Charlie had amazed him once again because she had been “so happy for you dad. I was, well after mum leaving you kinda closed yourself from everyone and I worried that you would you know, end up all alone. But not now! I mean look at you, going outside and talking to people. That’s amazing progress dad.” That had broken his heart a little, knowing that Charlie had been so worried about him ending up alone. Lucifer had done the only thing he could think of in the moment, pulling Charlie into his arms for a hug whilst thanking her for looking out for him and reassuring her that as long as he had her, he would never be alone.

Charlie had laughed it off, brushing away her tears as she insisted that she wasn’t going anywhere. That had gotten Lucifer welling up, happiness welling up inside his chest until it felt like it was going to burst. He had been so worried that he had messed it all up with Charlie, convinced that no matter what he did it was never going to be enough to make up for the distance that had existed between them nearly her entire life but hearing her say that had been, well it was the best thing he had heard since Lilith had told him she was pregnant. It had been a rather emotional moment for the both of them, but it had brought them closer together. The gap between them that much smaller.

The rest of his visit had been spent with Charlie coming up with a plan on how to win you over, convinced that Lucifer stood a real chance at taking possession of your heart. Lucifer wasn’t so sure though. Sure, he could be confident and charming but that came from being king and so much more powerful than everyone else stuck in the infernal blaze. He hadn’t needed to woo someone before. Lilith had just wanted someone to treat her like an equal and respect her whilst Eve had wanted to be free of her chains. It wasn’t like there had been any kind of competition either, Adam such a shitty husband that it had been easy to tempt his wives away from him. Though he had filled the earlier years of his and Lilith’s relationship with romantic gestures that had been very different to what humans now considered to be suitable displays of affection and he doubted you would be won over so easily with a horde of imp minions like Lilith had been.

Charlie had so many grand plans, Lucifer franticly taking notes on things such as simple gestures like holding doors open or offering you an arm to hold as the two of you walked down the street all the way to those grand gestures like breakfast in bed and lavish gifts like diamonds and expensive perfumes. It was a lot and that didn’t even include all the date ideas she was throwing at him, Charlie already planning a romantic picnic on the hotel roof like it was a sure thing you would say yes when he asked you out. Lucifer had to put a stop to her grand schemes then, insisting that maybe it was too soon to be planning dates when he hadn’t even asked you out yet. Reluctantly she had agreed and instead they had circled back round to the little things, the simple gestures he could do to test the water before moving on to bigger and more obvious ones. By the time he left Lucifer had somewhat of a plan on how to win your heart and if there was a slight skip in his step then there was no one around to see it.

Over the next few days Lucifer had started to implement his plan, starting with complimenting your outfit and making sure he opened every single door you went through if he was there. You gave him a few weird looks, but you never told him to stop so he considered it a win. On top of that he started to text you more, just little things about his day that he hoped would make you smile. He even phoned you a couple of times just to hear your voice. Though that had been a bit awkward. Lucifer wasn’t the best at holding conversations on the phone and the first time he had called you there had been a lot of lulls in the conversation, but you had still picked up the second time he called you, seemingly already prepared with conversation points that drew him in and had the conversation flowing easily in minutes.

When you didn’t seem to dislike the attention, Lucifer had moved onto the next part of that plan, eggier and nervous all at once because he was about to get bolder and more obvious about how he felt.

The most important part was to be more tactile with you. A brush of a hand here, a touch on the back there, maybe even brushing a stand of hair out of your face and sitting close enough together that he could press his leg against yours. In theory that was all fine, more than doable really, but the problem was that Lucifer hadn’t really touched anyone single Lilith and especially not in a way that was supposed to suggest something a little more intimate was wanted. Lucifer was touched starved, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop once her got to feel how soft and warm you are under his hands. Sure, he was excited for this part but that didn’t change the fact he was oh so nervous about it to.

What if you hated it? What if the very first time he tried to touch you, you told him get off and get away from you only to never speak to him again. It was a real worry, one that had him tugging at his hat and pulling his face as he shared that worry with Charlie, crying and whining about how “she’s going to hate me Charlie, I know it. As soon as I get a finger on her let alone a hand, she going to tell me to get lost and never want to speak to me again.” Charlie doesn’t say anything until his panicked and overly dramatic rant was over with, letting him get it all out even though some of the things he said were quite ridiculous. Once he was done though she had taken his hands in hers, offering a soft and reassuring smile whilst telling him that it was a “chance you’re going to have to take if you want to be with her dad. I don’t think she will turn you down, especially considering how much she’s been talking about you but there is always the possibility that your feeling might not be returned. Its something everyone has to consider when asking someone out but dad, of your serious about Y/N then it’s a risk you need to be willing to take and if not, well. At least things haven’t gone far enough that you can’t still be friends.” He’s stunned by her incite, her maturity. His little girl had grown up so quickly and was now a bright young woman capable of doing anything she put her mind to. Lucifer truly was proud of her and everything she had accomplished and didn’t hesitate to tell her whilst thanking her for being so open and honest with him.

His conversation with Charlie had left Lucifer with a lot to think about. His pride meant he didn’t handle rejection well and he knew that if you turned his advances down that there would be a period of time where his depression took over and he went back to making more silly little ducks then he knew what to do with. It would hurt to lose you because he really didn’t think he would be able to be around you afterwords without being rude or petty and he really didn’t want to be the reason you got hurt or upset. Maybe it would be better if he squashed down his feelings and just counted himself lucky to have you as a friend because he didn’t have hardly any of them, not real ones he could trust and be honest with. Asmodeus maybe, he could keep a secret and wasn’t all about the fucking like people assumed but it had been a while since Lucifer had spoken to him and well, he had never felt as close to him as he did you. The point was Lucifer didn’t want to lose you and if there was even a small chance that him carrying on with his courtship would result in that then wouldn’t he just be better off staying friends and being sure in the fact that he wouldn’t drive you away.

The whole thing leaves him distracted and confused, Lucifer often getting lost in his thoughts when there were more important things he should be concentrating on. He doesn’t notice the concerned looks you and Charlie give him, or the hushed conversations as you glance nervously at him. He just doesn’t know what to do and he hates it, hates the fact that he feels so out of his depth when he had been so sure where he stood with you before all this romance rubbish had started. In the end though Lucifer doesn’t have to make the decision himself because you decide for him, and he couldn’t be happier.

In an attempt to foster some sort of camaraderie between the hotel’s guests Charlie had implemented a monthly movie night where they each took turns to pick a movie they enjoyed in the hopes that it would get them all talking. Lucifer had accidentally become a part of that, Charlie having inverted him to join months ago in an attempt to spend more time together and get him out the house and Lucifer had just kind of carried on turning up, often sitting between you and his daughter and often needing one of you to explain what was going on because he had lost the plot after the first couple of minutes. Neither of you seemed to mind, even though you all knew that sometimes he did it on purpose, liking to hear your creative descriptions of what you were watching.

This was a regularly scheduled event in his diary, so Lucifer hadn’t really though about not going until he found himself sat in the middle of the sofa, Charlie and Vaggie curled up together on one side and an very obvious space for you on his other side. He sat ramrod straight, hands clutching at his knees as he tried to come up with a plausible reason as to why you shouldn’t be sitting next to him. His mind came up blank though and before he knew it you were dropping down next to him with a sigh. You didn’t speak to him as you got yourself comfortable and Lucifer couldn’t even bring himself to look at you let alone talk to you. It felt weird, so different to how it had been, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was how things were going to be between you now, the same yet not.

Lucifer completely missed the first half of the film, eyes fixed on the screen yet not actually seeing it. He was just waiting for it to end and the chance to get away from this weirdness. He didn’t notice yours and Charlie’s silent yet rather animated conversation behind him, or the others looking at him like he was some new kind of crazy. He didn’t notice your loud sigh as you slumped down next to him, or the unsure looks you kept shooting him that slowly turned into determination. What he did notice though was your arm looping through his, your hand curling around his arm as you shifted closer to him.

Lucifer was surprised his neck didn’t snap from how quickly it snapped to the side, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as he looked down at you with shock and bewilderment. You were nibbling at your bottom lip, ears turned down slightly and eyes fixed on Lucifers knee, looking very much like the innocent little lamb he often teased you about being. On the screen something exploded, the flash of light illuminating your eyes as you finally looked at him. Lucifer was captivated, trapped in their glow and oh how much he had missed this, having all your attention on him like he was the centre of your universe. You never took your eyes off him as you moved in close, leaning in so he would hear over the tv when you whispered, “is this ok?” Lucifer had barely managed to get out a yes around the lump of excitement that seemed to have formed in his throat.

The smile you gave him was blinding but no where near as amazing of the felling of you leaning into him, your head resting on his shoulder as you turned your attention back to the tv. Lucifer continued to watch for a while, mesmerised by your ever-present smile and the way your eyes light up with the light from the tv. All his worries and fears about allowing himself this vanished the moment you had touched him because this felt right, like everything just clicked into place. And to think he almost missed out on this. With his own content sigh and smile Lucifer relaxed into it, one hand resting on your bent knee whilst he raised the other to cover your one that was curled abound his bicep. He let his head tip slightly, resting it against the top of yours and just enjoyed the closeness. He didn’t notice Charlie squealing behind him or Angel Dusts eye roll and mumbled “about damned time.” Lucifer was lost in his own little bubble of contentment and nothing short of an angel attack was going to change that.

From then onwards Lucifer was an unstoppable force of wooing. He had no problem invading your personal space after that, nor did he mind getting his hands on you though he had been right, once he was allowed to touch Lucifer found it very hard not to and not to mention how all this innocent skin on skin contact was making him think about all the other less innocent touches he could be bestowing upon you. That had led to a few embarrassing moments where he had needed to excuse himself rather quickly to avoid you noticing what was happening. It also resulted in some rather pleasant dreams that he was always reluctant to wake from, knowing he would be left feeling disappointed and guilty when he finally opened his eyes.

Complements came thick and fast as did the gifts though he had to admit he might have gone a bit overboard with some things. Like filling the entire hotel with white roses that smelt like freshly made popcorn or making every kind of food he could think of appear when you said you were hungry. In his excitement he might have forgotten about plates and Vaggie really hadn’t been too happy about the stack of pancakes that had ended up on top of her head. Though you had found it funny, using your fingers to scoop up some of the ice cream that was dripping down his face before licking it off your fingers. Lucifer had never really understood food porn before but that right here was enough to convert him.

Other things had gone over better. Like a bottle of perfume that smelt like freshly cut grass, a crystal ball that swirled with the colours and patterns of a universe and your own personal rubber duck that Lucifer had spent weeks experimenting with so it would act like an actual duck, though he might have gotten it a little wrong because it had a few dog qualities that he hadn’t quite been able to get out. But hey, you had loved it, so Lucifer considered it a win, even if the thing growled at people every now and again. The first time he had seen you with the silly little thing perched on your head he had nearly combusted with how cute you had looked. He had taken what felt like thousands of photos, following you around the hotel and telling anyone and everyone you passed how adorable you were only to snap more photos as you blushed at his compliments. He would have been happy to continue just showering you with gifts and compliments, happy that he was making you happy, but it wasn’t quite enough. Lucifer wanted more and he wasn’t going to get that with expensive gifts and sugar sweet words.

When he had been with Lilith, they had gone on the grand total of three dates and considering one of them was when she was still in the garden Lucifer didn’t really count it as an actual date because all they had done was sit next to a secluded lake and talk. It had been nice, real nice actually and from that one little date their relationship had blossomed and grown into something Lucifer would cherish for all eternity. It’s not exactly up to par with modern standards though and Lucifer really didn’t want to rehash his old material. It wouldn’t be fare to Lilith and it sure as hell wouldn’t be fare to you. You weren’t a replacement for his ex-wife and Lucifer really didn’t want you to ever think that was what this thing between the two of you was. So, he needed new material, something that was uniquely suited to you and guaranteed that you would say yes when Lucifer asked you to be his.

The other rings were out considering you were a mortal sinner and couldn’t leave the pride ring. A shame really because they really did have some amazing restaurants and bars down in gluttony that he thought you might have enjoyed. It would have been nice to take you to Lu Lu Land, Lucifer able to show off his most successful creation, well second most successful next to Charlie. But just like gluttony that was out of the question. That left him with the rather nauseating thought of doing something in Pentagram city and that was a solid pass on his part because the city was a huge disgusting dumpster fire of nope full of psychopathic freaks that Lucifer would rather not have to deal with when he was trying to be all romantic and suave.

It left him with a rather stressful dilemma, Lucifer locking himself away in his workshop as he tried and failed to come up with anything he thought was worthy of your time. It had him pulling at his hair and throwing his ducks around in frustration. This shouldn’t be this hard, mortals did it all the time and yet he couldn’t come up with anything better than afternoon tea in Cannibal Town because despite the fact it was full of flesh hungry sinners it was still the nicest part of this trashy city, he just didn’t think you would be a fan of being given finger sandwiches made from actual fingers. Groaning he had slumped forward, banging his head on his desk and mumbling about how he was “stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course she wouldn’t want to eat people, that’s gross and weird. Come on Luci, think, think, think.” With a headache forming and the sense of pathetic failure growing, Lucifer was saved in the form of a text from Charlie, asking for his help at the hotel. It was like a switch being flipped, the conversation he had with his daughter all those weeks ago coming back to him in full clarity. It was perfect, a plan already starting to form in his mind, and it was with a maniacal laugh that Lucifer snatched up his phone and called Charlie, roping her into his plans.

It was a lot easier from then on, Lucifer knowing exactly what he wanted to make it perfect for you. Charlie was more than happy to help, even getting the other residents of the hotel to keep you busy so you wouldn’t notice what was going on. You weren’t stupid though and Lucifer knew that you had suspicions, especially when everyone was being a bit too obvious about keeping you away from him whenever you caught a glimpse of him around the hotel. It was worth it though, Lucifer proud of what he had managed to accomplish. All that was left now was to get you up there and woo the socks off you.

Everyone played their part, pretending that Angel Dusts little piggy had run off and organising a search party to find it before that no-good Radio demon eat it. You were given the upper floors to search, including the roof and all Lucifer needed to do was wait patiently for you to find him and his surprise. Patiently lasted all of five minutes though and as the seconds ticked by he began nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet before giving in and pacing around the small space, muttering to himself the whole time about how it was taking you “so long. It’s just three floors you should be done by now. Maybe he should go and find you, speed things up a little. No, no, no. The whole point is you’re supposed to be up here to surprise her Luci. What if you go down and she gets here before you find her and ruins the whole thing. Fuuuck. What to do. What to do.” Just as he’s about to start pulling his hair out Lucifer hears it, the loud groan of the roof access stairs being pulled down. He quickly scrambles to get in position, fixing his hair and grabbing up the bouquet of red and white roses that fallen to the floor as his distress grew. He had taken off his jacket and hat, stashing them away along with his cain to go for a more casual look, a wide smirk plastered across his face as he tried not to bounce excitedly.

He heard you before he saw you, your mumbled complaints carrying up as you flung open the access hatch. You weren’t looking his way when you climbed out onto the roof, still muttering under your breath as you brushed dust and dirt off your clothes. Lucifer remained silent though, holding his breath as he waited for you to turn around and look his way. When you finally turned to him you gasped, hand flying up to cover your mouth as you stumbled back slightly. Lucifer laughed nervously, thrusting out the bouquet of flowers toward you and awkwardly greeting you with a “hey you.” You regained your composure quickly, smiling softly as you made your way over to him and tacking the flowers with a quick thank you. Lucifer stood there for a long few moments, his brain having come to a sudden hault as he watched you lift the bouquet up to smell the flowers. They weren’t real roses; you didn’t get flowers like that down here, but Lucifer had done his best to recreate them though he couldn’t really remember how they smelled so he had made the white one's smell like freshly made popcorn and the red ones like candy floss. You didn’t seem to mind, humming appreciatively as you stared back at him.

You had pulled Lucifer out of his little daze by leaning to the side to look at the scene behind him, asking if “that’s what you’ve been up to all day?” Eager to show you what he had done Lucifer nodded, enthusiastically taking your hand and pulling you along with him. There was a large blanket on the floor, practically surround by a mountain of cushions and other blankets. There were more flowers, big vases of the roses with candy apples and fern leaves dotted throughout, with candelabras strategically places around the edges of the blanket to give the area a warm glow. He had champagne on ice, two glasses waiting nearby and several platters of food that could be easily picked up with their fingers.

You gently placed the flowers you had been holding on the floor before sinking down onto the cushions, Lucifer following close behind and sitting close enough to you that your legs touched. Glasses of champagne were poured, food offered and the two of you slipped into easy conversation. It was surprisingly intimate, the sounds of the city nothing but a dull murmur in the background. From their advantage point they could see almost all of pentagram city, all the way from Imp City to Cannibal Town. Though all of Hell was his to rule this was Lucifers domaine and though it was quite literally on fire in some places he still wanted to show off how much power he had though knowing he was the King of Hell had never seemed to mean all that much to you.

As the evening went on and the champagne slowly disappeared the two of you got closer until Lucifer was leaning back against the cushions with you tucked up against his side, an arm draped over your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence and looked out across the city. It was comfortable, Lucifer felt comfortable, like himself for once but he knew he had to break the peaceful little bubble the two of you were in because he had a rather important question he needed to ask and if he didn’t ask it now, well, he wasn’t sure if he ever would.

Lucifer put his mostly empty glass down before nervously clearing his through. That caught your attention and had you turning to look at him before he was ready. Whatever you saw on his face had you frowning, placing down your own glass so you could turn more fully to look at him. Lucifer could tell you were about to say something, but he couldn’t afford to lose his nerve, so he held up a hand to stop you, telling you that he “need to err ask you something?” So, what if it came out more like a question, at least he had managed to get it out. Your eyes widened slightly, ears twitching up and mouth forming an ‘o’. With a reassuring smile you took his hand in yours, nodding encouragingly and waiting for him to continue.

Swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat, Lucifer glanced off to the side, tugging at the suddenly tight collar of his shirt. He felt your hold on his hand tightening, his eyes darting back to you and that look of reassurance and excitement that gleamed in your eyes. It was enough to calm his nerves and he placed his other hand over the tops of yours, taking a deep breath before asking that one little question that was sure to change his life regardless of the answer you gave. “Would you, like to date, me?”

Your smile widened, stretching at your cheeks and looking almost painful. Freeing one of your hands from his you placed it on his cheek, thumb rubbing gently across it. Your voice is so soft but full of certainty and something Lucifer didn’t want to say was love, not yet anyway. It was a simple “yes Lucifer,” but it had his heart soaring like he was flying high above the city. Lucifer couldn’t help but laugh, flinging himself forward and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He was so happy, couldn’t quite believe that you had said yes but still unapologetically happy that you had. You laughed with him, wiggling in his hold until you got your arms free, looping them around his neck. Lucifers grip tightened around your waist, pulling you in just that little bit closer. It meant that he had to tip his head back slightly to look you in the eyes but that wasn’t a hardship, especially not when you leant down, eyes darting to his lips then back up to his eyes. It was a silent question, one Lucifer answered by tipping his head back more, his eye closing and holding his breath as he waited for you to bridge the gap.

Your lips were soft against his, just a gentle brush against his as if you were testing it out. Lucifer dug his fingers into the fabric of your dress, a content sigh passing from his lips to yours. That seemed to be the only permission you need because in the next second your lips were firmer, slow and confident as you traded one kiss after another. It was everything Lucifer had hoped it would be, as sweet as candy apples and just as addictive.

So lost in one another neither of you noticed that the access hatch was slightly open, or the two sets of eyes looking out from the darkness. You didn’t hear the muffled cheers or the even more muffled complaint about how “disgustingly lovey dovey those weirdos are going to be now? I guarantee ya, every five seconds they’re gonna be making cow eyes at each other and professing their love. I already feel sick just thinkin’ about…Ow! Watch the goods toots.” You didn’t see the rather annoyed radio demon down below twiddling his mic in his hands or Charlie sticking her head out of a window and gesturing upwards franticly. You didn’t hear him huff and roll his eyes or him waving his mic around until colourful explosions of light filled the sky behind you. The two of you were completely oblivious to the world around you, lost in the moment.

Neither of you had thought this was how things would end up the first time you had met and though you were both aware that things wouldn’t be as easy as they seemed right now you were willing to take the risk. Sure, there would be ups and downs, things that would need addressing like Lilith and the wedding ring Lucifer still wore and the fact that you were a sinner, bound to the pride ring. There was the hotel and heaven to consider, not to mention all the threats from within hell. Those were all things to worry about latter though because for now, with you in his arms and his relationship with Charlie so much better than it had been Lucifer was happy and nothing could take that away from him.

At least for now.

@lxkeee

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel x fem reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin charlie #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x fem!reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x fem!reader #lucifer x fem!reader #lucifer x female reader #lucifer x reader #reader insert #fem!reader

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moonpascaltoo · 4 months

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Fic Recs (steve harrington)

just some of my favorite one-shots or series i’ve read on ao3 and few from tumblr. all works ranging from 1.5k to 30k+ i believe. 18+ readers!

some have a tumblr that i tagged, but others i couldn’t find . i am doing this on mobile which is a bit difficult haha! i read these all (except 2) on ao3 so the links will be ao3. i know some are here on tumblr but i didn’t realize till after reading and making this! <3

steve harrington

come home by @stevie-petey <3💕

-"come home to me, okay?"

"always," steve promises

in between saving will, then hawkins, then somehow the world, you fall in love with steve harrington.

(a stranger things rewrite).

dancing with our hands tied by @andvys

-You and Steve have never seen eye to eye, and it never changed, not even when you were pulled into a world of monsters and risked your life to save him. But tension had always been between you both, something that neither of you ever wanted to admit -- but how much longer can you take it when the pull between you gets stronger and stronger each second you spend by each others side?

paint me red by eddiemunsons ao3

-You're one of Vickie's best friends. Her girlfriend, Robin, is in need of a distraction for her best friend, Steve Harrington, who you vaguely remember from school. Which is where you come in.

i’m your idiot by thebestandworstdayofjune ao3 @thebestandworstdayofjune

-Steve Harrington has a way of worming himself into your heart, and social situations you had done your best to exclude him from.

small hands, big heart by finalgirlharrington ao3 @sexybabystevie

-Steve Harrington has a massive crush on you, but his recent lack of luck in the romantic sense has him stuck on how to make a move. Plus, something about you makes him nervous in a way he's never been – in a way he likes. His simplest solution? Flirting via the old 'comparing hand sizes' method.

promise by Harley_Honey_Quinn ao3

-Reader learns about Steve's feelings thanks to some Russian truth serum.

kiss me by @corrodedseraphine

-Your friend is desperately trying to find a person who will give him something more. Wanting to feel what it's like to be loved again and after many failed dates he gets the idea that it's time to go back to King Steve's famous tactics. Telling him that it's not the best idea gets you involved in a deal where you have to help him get another girl. Will helping the boy you're in love with turn out to be a good idea? Probably not.

every rose has its thorn by @corrodedseraphine

-Christmas is coming to Hawkins. It is a time of joy and forgiveness. It turns out that your sister's best friend is looking for a new place to live, and you happen to have a spare room in the apartment. It wouldn't be a problem if that friend wasn't Steve Harrington. A man whom the more you try to avoid even more often comes back like a boomerang.

hearts on the telephone line by t_lostinworlds ao3 @t-lostinworlds

-You thought Steve was okay dealing with a long-distance relationship after you moved for an exciting internship in New York. But you were proven so wrong when your boyfriend finally poured his feelings over the phone. Because distance wasn't making his heart grow fonder, it was breaking it.

competitively stupid by t_lostinworlds ao3 @t-lostinworlds

-It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

perfect blend by Your_Writer ao3

-No one likes their summer job. Working at a coffee shop was sticky, exhausting, and overall boring. In fact, the highlight of your day was the charming, gentle eyed sailor scooping USS Butterscotch just across the way.

the things we don’t say by rdrickheffley ao3

-Steve Harrington once was the bane of Y/n's existence. He had always been an arrogant asshole and a terrible kisser. She never understood how others fell for the boy's eye-roll worthy charm. Now it seems like he will do anything to prove her wrong about anything.

next time? by rdrickheffley ao3

-Three instances where Steve and reader find themselves in intimate situations.

candyfloss and confessions by ACourtofSnakesandStars ao3

-You’ve been in love with Steve Harrington for years, like every cliche come to life. You’ve battled monsters, found friends within kids with superpowers, and you even managed to graduate. Yet the one thing you’ve never been able to do, is tell Steve how you feel. But maybe you don’t need to wait any longer.

a night to remember by RaeWrites94 ao3

-Steve has to attend his 10 year high school reunion and somehow manages to convince you to go as his date and his fake girlfriend. You've had feelings for him for a long time, but figure, why not? You could probably survive an evening of pretending he liked you back and come out unscathed. Right?

with bated breath by brianmay ao3

-Rumors fly after you attend Steve Harrington’s party one weekend in September. Thinking they were his doing, you do everything in your power to avoid him, which proves easier said than done.

cross my heart (and hope to die) by @talesofesther

-Every time Steve gets hurt, you're there to help pick up the pieces; you just weren't expecting him to fall for you in the process.

tales of a love between the lines by @talesofesther

-Sometimes the thing we want most is right in front of us, and Steve might be just that for you; all you have to do is see what he’s been showing you for a long time.

love is easy by seidenbros ao3

-The day you wrote I love you on a post-it note before you'd said the words out loud, and it's the best note Steve ever got.

everything means nothing if i can’t have you by iridescentpetrichor ao3

-Steve and Y/N go on a double date to impress the other one, but it's only so long until the tension between the two breaks.

you’re not by frostandflames ao3 @frostandflamesfanfic

-The year is 1985, you're on a school field trip to cheer on Hawkins High at the championship game before spring break. When the game doesn't pan out as expected, you're even more surprised to discover the one and only Steve Harrington in only his underwear at your hotel room after being locked out by his teammates. What happens when the two of you have a little heart to heart?

last christmas by frostandflames ao3 @frostandflamesfanfic

-You and Steve had always been childhood friends-and remained that way. As Steve ping-pongs around in his relationship status, you have a hard time keeping your feelings to himself as Nancy surrounds his entire world. What Steve doesn't know is his relationship to Nancy may end your own with Steve.

the scoundrel and the princess by @mrshipsmcgee

-after an awkward run in with Tommy Hagan, Steve Harrington is invited to an awful party where he meets a beautiful stranger.

also have a ton under the (steve harrington x reader) on my blog! credit to the maker of the gif from pinterest!

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violetbranwen · 1 month

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Vampire Smile

Pairing: Thrall!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Vampire!Reader Rating: E Warnings: Vampires, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Blood, Blood and Gore, Self-Hatred, Human/Monster Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Codependency, Toxic Relationship, Self Indulgent af with way too much flowery shit, I wanted to be expressive for once, Self-Indulgent, Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Smut - Let me know if I missed anything! Wordcount: 5934 After trying to push Simon away, he comes back, and distance only makes the heart grow fonder.

(I made Simon’s blood type A Positive, we’ve got two skins with two conflicting blood types for him so I just chose this one) Vampire Smile - Kyla La Grange and Too Sweet - Hozier were playing on repeat while I wrote this. I'm not even sorry. For @glitterypirateduck's Simon Riley challenge. It started from thinking about using 4. A kiss on the inside of the wrist but it became so much more. Thank you @noxturnalpascal for beta-ing for me!

Ghost Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | AO3

“Please.”

Your skin crawls as you hear his voice, ringing around your mind like he’s in the room with you. But that’s impossible, you haven’t seen him in weeks. You don’t want to see him.

Liar.

“Stop it,” you hiss into the darkness, “You need to stop.”

“I can’t, please. Just need to see you,” Simon’s disembodied voice weakens you as the hooks of his desperation find purchase in your resolve. He shouldn’t have this control, this access to your mind. You should be the one dictating the link, not him.

“You should be focusing on you, on staying alive,” you groan as you writhe under the blankets of your nest. You’re burning up, phantom sweat prickling at your skin as you push the heels of your palms into your eye sockets.

“Why?”

The question shakes you. So filled with venom, bitterness, self-hatred. A single syllable loaded with contempt, defiance, loss. He’s learned to manipulate your bond, he’s had help.

“Because I need you to live, Simon,” you groan as your nipples tighten as you feel him swelling in his boxers. It’s like you’re pressed against him, like that night in Tripoli – the beginning of the end for you both. You relive the way his heat bled into you as you let him worship your body. Your fingers dip down under the blankets and over the valley of your breasts.

“Stop thinking about that,” you snap, clenching your fingers into a fist as you snatch your hand away from your aching core. You’re too old, too strong to let a mortal like Simon play you like this.

He doesn’t respond, instead the mood of his thoughts shift, you hiss as you feel your fangs extend down over your lips. Your mouth floods with the heady tang of blood, his blood. It’s an illusion, a memory conjured up just for you, but it tastes so real.

“Simon,” you warn, voice hoarse as you pull your sleep mask from your eyes. You wince, even with your light-proofing, you can feel the UV radiation raging against the building around you. The burning threat of the sun behind your blackout curtains quells the thirst, the hunger for a brief moment.

“My Lady,” he trades your warning for one of his own, for every inch of his yearning you feel, you know he feels your pain.

“Where are you?” You groan as you force your aching limbs to move, you need to drink something. You’re sleep deprived, hungry, and no matter how hard you try to dispel the psychic haze blanketing your mind you can’t get the taste of Simon’s blood from your lips.

There’s a pause, a stutter in the psychic link, before you feel a deliberate, abrupt severance. You jump from your bed as experience the cold grip of fear wrap around your throat for the first time in decades.

“Simon?” You call to him, probing the cauterized connection in your mind as you search for his presence. He’s not there, he’s cut you off, somehow, he’s blocking your attempts to reestablish the link.

Or he’s dead.

The thought comes unbidden as you let the tendrils of terror twist around your dead heart. It’s pain like you’ve never felt as you realise, you’re trapped here. Simon could be bleeding out somewhere, dying alone, all because you couldn’t face your own feelings. Because you cannot venture into the light to find him.

You call Simon’s number, dread weighs heavy in the pit of your stomach as it goes straight to voicemail. You try again, and again. By the fifth time you’re pacing the length of your hall as you try to fight the urge to rush out into the sunlight.

You just need to know that he’s safe, but where do you even start? He could be anywhere in the world right now. But you’re stuck here, confined to your crypt.

You make yourself move, straight to the kitchen. You focus on the blood bags in your fridge, the A POS label taunting you as you snatch one up. It makes a dull slap as you throw it into your microwave, it kills some of the potency, but you’ve never been one to drink cold blood.

The microwave beeps cheerily and you tear the bag open with your exposed fangs before devouring it in hasty mouthfuls. The crimson liquid dribbles over your chin as you lean back against the kitchen counter.

You feel sharper, less hazy as you feel the warmth spread through your body. It numbs the need to throw yourself out into the sunlight. But it doesn’t stop the ache in your chest as you feel yourself spiralling.

Then you feel it.

He’s here.

The sound of a car door slamming down the street makes you sprint to the door, looking through the peep hole as you feel someone else’s anxiety bubble in your chest. Simon’s anxiety.

You hear his boots crunch on the gravel path, the gait of his walk memorised like a second heartbeat. Favouring his left, caused by an old injury left over from a time before you. It’s hard to imagine a time before him. Before this.

You hover at the front door, hiding behind the thick wooden barrier, fingertips poised over somewhere level with where you know his heart rests within his broad chest. You can almost feel it. Your skin pulses with the faux rush of his blood, tantalisingly close, yet so far away.

“Let me in,” he whispers, too low for a normal human to hear, but you pick it up as easily as if his lips were pressed to your skin.

“No,” you say, loud enough for him to hear, but it wouldn’t matter, the psychic link has burrowed back into your mind. He can feel your desperation, your need for him.

“My Lady,” he groans as you feel him slump to his knees on your doormat, “Please.”

You sink to your knees in a perfect mirror, forehead colliding with the door with a soft thud as you try to find the strength to deny him. When it was just the two of you, communicating with thought alone, it was like chipping away at an iceberg. His attempts to sway you miniscule.

But now, with his heat so close, his scent, gravelly and raw mere inches away, you’re powerless to resist.

“I’ll be in the bedroom,” you say softly as you reach up to unlock the door. The sound of the mechanism turning is deafening in the silence between you.

You trudge back to your bedroom, bed unmade, twisted up in a mass of pillows and blankets. It’s been like this since you sent Simon away. What’s the point in cleaning, in making an effort, when the only person who made you feel remotely human is gone? The rest of the house is spotless, but you’d have to leave your bedroom for more than just blood and to answer the door to even make a mark elsewhere.

You sit in your sleep shorts and his oversized Metallica hoodie. You hadn’t even realised you were wearing it until you looked down to assess your appearance. You consider changing, putting on something less emotionally charged, you could certainly do it before he reached you.

But you hear the solid thud of the front door closing behind Simon and you freeze. His scent invades your nostrils within fractions of a second of the door closing. It’s like liquid sunshine flooding your senses, bright and intangible. You smell his cologne first, the one you bought him for his birthday, subtle woodsy notes with hints of juniper and spice.

You close your eyes, shutting off your vision to enhance your smell. He’s only down the hall, the thrum of his blood in his veins roaring in your ears as his heartbeat increases. You know he can feel you, that invisible string tying your hearts together, it tugs on your chest too.

Then his natural fragrance hits you, he must be at the doorway to your room, he must see you waiting for him in his clothes. His bloodstream fills with Oxytocin, you can smell the shift as his cock hardens in his trousers. He’s smells so fucking good.

Even without looking, you call tell he’s hydrated, sober, eating well, exercising and maintaining his health. The realisation that the distance has only made him more whole and you devastatingly empty makes your eyes sting with tears that will never come. It’s a bitter vindication, the stark reality that you were – are – bad for him striking your heart with more force than any stake could ever deliver.

You want to open your eyes, witness the rejuvenation of his soul, but you can’t. You know it’ll break your heart if you see it with your own eyes. He lingers in the doorway for a moment before you feel the air shift between you. He whispers your name as he kneels at your feet, close enough you can feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but he refrains from touching you.

“Why are you here Simon?” You ask, voice fractured and weak as you ball your fists on your knees, drawing your gums painfully tight around your fangs.

“You know why,” is all he says in return as you let him flood your mind with images of the good times.

Dancing under the stars in Lima, hushed whines and writhing bodies under canvas in the desert, lazy Sundays on Simon’s couch.

It’s almost enough to sway you but you’re pulled under by the riptide of guilt as waves of bitter memories surge up between you.

Simon’s pale form after you took too much, his life fading behind his eyes as you desperately fed him your blood to keep him alive. Tripoli. Where you bound his soul to yours, ruined his life, marked him for death and destruction. You finally found the tenderness and joy you’d never experienced in life, but with an unforgivable trade-off. You were forced to admit you were slowly killing the man you love.

“Then turn me,” Simon says with a groan as he lays his head on your thigh, “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t shut me out again.”

The plea stings, venomous rot agitated and burning in your chest as your eyes fly open.

“You can’t ask that of me,” you hiss as you move to push him away, but you’re frozen in place, palms flat on his chest.

Simon’s ochre eyes pin you in place as you see the fruits of his distance from you. His skin is glowing, tanned and healthy from decent exposure to sunlight. His eyes, though baleful, are radiant as he gazes upon you. He’s filled out, a healthy layer of fat covering his muscular body.

Ripe.

You recoil from his touch at your intrusive thought, you’re crawling back onto the bed, away from him. He sits back on his heels, tears shining in his eyes as you feel the rejection sting through him across your link.

“You look good,” you mumble, making conversation, trying to delay the inevitable expulsion of him from your lair. You want him to leave. You need him to stay. You’re trapped in a web of your own design. Locked down as you cower pitifully from your prey.

“You look like shit,” Simon counters with a chuckle and there it is again, the clawing need for him to hold you as you laugh together. A human, irrational need to grow old with him.

“You’re doing better without me,” you say, selfishly, bitterly, as you meet his gaze.

“I’m doing better for you,” he shakes his head as he places his broad palms flat on the end of the bed, pausing in his movement as he realises what he’s doing. He’s just as drawn to you as he was weeks ago it seems, but there’s a glimmer of hope flickering in your chest as he holds back. It’s not a compulsion anymore.

“Simon,” you say with a gnash of your teeth as he takes your lack of protest as permission to join you on the bed, “You can’t fix me,” you try to reason but with every second he’s getting closer, breaking down your feeble attempts at pious resistance.

“No, I can’t,” he says with a sad smile as he slots between your thighs, hands either side of your head as he impotently cages you in, “But I don’t need to fix you, I just need to be with you, forever.”

“Si,” you whimper as you rest your forearms on his shoulders, warmth blooms in your palms as you clasp his thick neck between your palms, “I won’t turn you. I won’t make you a monster.”

Like me.

“I’m already a monster,” he growls as he leans in to kiss you, his lips ghosting against yours, “My body count is probably close to yours,” he jokes, but there’s undeniable truth there. It’s like he wants you to bite, to take and take and take. But you won’t, this can’t be a suck and fuck that ends in already half-broken promises and dooms your narrative for good this time.

“We have to talk about this,” you plead as he places a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “After.”

“After?” He goads as he nips at your jaw, you burn for him. You’re pliable under his touch, but you refuse to be the first to break. He needs to claim you, not the other way around. You won’t be complicit in ruining this man.

Even if that ship has sailed.

“Make love to me,” you whisper, “But I can’t bite you, not today.”

He pauses as his lips brush your throat, exposing his own to your fangs as he hovers there. It’s a challenge, a promise.

“But I want you to,” he breathes, hot against your cool skin as your gums sear with need to plunge your fangs into the broad, veiny neck mere millimetres away.

“Then leave,” you snap, teeth clacking as you refrain from giving into the heat in your belly, in moments like this, you would give Simon anything. You would let him drive a stake through your heart and it would please you.

For Simon, you would do anything. Anything but damn him to the curse of your lonely eternity.

“I will,” he says with an edge to his voice, dark and dangerous, “If you really want me to leave, and never return, just say the word.”

“No,” the word leaves your lips before you can stop it.

“Then, just for today,” he hums before he licks a thick, hot stripe up your neck, “Indulge me, feed from me,” he growls as you hook your ankles around his waist.

It’s textbook really, the thrall begging to be drained. But there’s something about the way he holds it over you, like there’s true agency there, that breaks you.

It’s like the world silences around you, the sound of Simon’s blood rushing in his veins is the only thing left. You don’t even stop to kiss him, you just bite.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

His heartbeat is a melody in your ears as you break the skin as easily as slicing through butter with a white-hot knife. Your fangs pump aphrodisiac into your mouth, directly into his bloodstream. You’re nearly delirious as you cling to him. Fingernails digging into the back of his shirt, ankles pressing into the small of his back as he grinds down against your barley-clothed cunt.

Monster.

You groan as the splash of blood hits your lips. Honey, cinnamon, spring water. All the things you remember that make up the heady drug that is your Simon.

“Thank you,” Simon’s voice is hoarse in your ear as he lets out shuddering breaths across your rapidly warming skin.

The urge to keep feeding binds you like silver chains, burning at your skin as you feed and feed.

Thump, thump, thump.

“Take what you need,” his voice is quieter now, like he’s speaking through a veil. Your tongue laps at the blood that runs in molten rivers down his skin.

Just a little more.

The poisoned voice in your mind urges you on, it wants you to drain every last drop. Leave behind a pretty little corpse for you to mourn and grieve for eternity. It wants to twist you into the monster you claim to be. You’re about to give in, to flip Simon on his back, pin him down and rip out that beautiful, thick throat.

Thump. Thump.

But he whispers so sweetly in your ear the words you’ve been dreading to hear. Because how can you hide from him now?

“I love you,” his voice is strong in your mind as his lips brush against your skin.

You push him off you, retracting your fangs just in time to stop his skin from tearing under the power of your jaws. He groans as you straddle his hips, your hands flying to his throat, thumbs pressed above his Adam’s apple. There’s no pressure in your grip, it’s weak despite the power raging through you. Simon has made you strong, stronger than you thought possible as you watch his amber eyes gleam with unshed tears.

“Knew you wouldn’t hurt me,” he says with a grin as he takes your wrists in his hands, thumbs brushing over where you once had a pulse.

“Never,” you vow, but your hands don’t move, blood smears against the heel of your right palm as the punctures bleed freely.

“I trust you,” he says with a smile as you feel his mind brush against yours, hazy and blissed out from your venom and his blood loss.

“You’re a fool,” you splutter as you lean down to pepper his scarred face with your bloodstained kisses, “Too stubborn for you own good,” you chide but there’s no malice in it.

“Look who’s talking, My Lady,” he grumbles as he drops his hands to your waist, fingertips dipping under the hem of his hoodie, “Fuck, I feel so good.”

“Yeah?” You purr as you feel the scratch and pull of his callouses on your skin.

“Yeah,” he repeats with a lazy smile as he palms your breasts with both hands, “Let me see you.”

You respond with a flurry of movements, too fast for his eyes to follow as you tear your clothes from your body. You grin down wolfishly at him as you now sit bare above him. You move his hands to your hips as you start to grind down against him.

“Like this?” You ask as you rock your wet cunt over the front of his trousers, using his painfully hard bulge to seek some relief in your aching core. Your breasts sway to the rhythm of your rolling hips.

“Yes,” he breathes your name as he grips your ass with both hands, encouraging you to move faster, but you slow down, to a veritable whisper of motion as you tug on his shirt.

“Your turn.”

He sits up with more strength than you expected. A bonus of being nourished and healthy, you think morosely to yourself as you try and push aside the negative twist of guilt in your gut.

You’re back on top of him in no time at all, his coarse happy trail rubbing deliciously against your clit as you splay your palms across his broad chest. His hands cup your cheeks as he pulls you down to slot your lips over his. You melt into his embrace and swipe your tongue over his bottom lip.

He cedes his mouth to your bloody maw as you tug at his hair, short blonde locks twisted around your fingertips while you pour your soul into his mouth. Unspoken admissions of love are written in the dance of your tongues. Hot muscle sliding over cold, feeling his warmth seep into your bones.

His cock glides between your ass cheeks as he refrains from taking you. The echo of his pleasure rippling through you every time his tip catches on one of your holes, leaving you groaning in depraved desperation when he angles his hips away.

“I want to taste you,” he growls against your lips as he swipes his tongue over his own, collecting blood and venom before swallowing thickly. Your cunt clenches at the way the muscles in his neck flex and ripple. You want to bite down again and again, but you focus on Simon’s eyes, smiling down at him as desire swells within you.

“Then taste me,” you say with a smile as you feel the cobwebs of despair being blown from the corners of your mind. It’s easy to forget the bad times when you come together like this. It’s more than sex, it’s in the sweet intimacy as Simon flips your positions so you’re onto your back. In the way he eases you down onto the pillows, cradling your body in his strong arms as if you’re made of glass. It’s in these moments you forget and allow yourself to feel human again.

The irony makes you giddy as he kisses your jaw, nipping firmly against your cool skin before leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your body. His lips latch on your left nipple as he swirls his tongue around the hardened peak. The noise he makes as he worships your breasts makes your legs weak.

Caught in his throat, somewhere between a whine and a moan. Your response is desperate, feral.

“Simon, please,” you beg as he hums contentedly against your skin, slowly moving further down your body. His tongue lashes at the curve of your stomach, over the expanse of your ribs. You yelp in surprise and pained arousal as he nips at your skin. You buck your hips up as his lips meet your clit.

You want to cry out, to say something meaningful, but all that spills from your lips are strained whimpers. You’re gasping, even though you have no need for air, as he laps wetly at your slick folds. His hot breath and broad tongue ignite against your skin as he devours you. You buck up into his thick tongue, grinding against his slick muscle and he growls into your core.

“Taste so good, been dreaming of this,” his voice is muffled but you can see the flashes of those nightly visions behind his eyelids.

First, you’re riding his face, face contorted into a fanged snarl as he pulls orgasm after orgasm from you. Next, pushed down into the mattress with his nose bumping against your dripping hole as he delves his tongue through your folds, lapping at your clit as you fall limp against the bedsheets.

The images run wild through your mind as he loops one arm over your belly, pulling your cunt tighter against his mouth. Two thick fingers tease at your hole and you’re whimpering for him, begging with thighs tightening around his head. Your fingers knot back into his hair as you urge him on, fingernails scraping on his scalp just how he likes.

He eases his fingers into your slick pussy, curling them up just how you like. Hours spent mapping your body out with his tongue, his teeth, fingers and his cock have made your pleasure second nature to him.

“Don’t leave me again,” he groans before sucking your clit between his lips, tongue swirling over your exposed bundle of nerves as he fucks you roughly on his fingers, “This cunt is mine.”

The sudden possessiveness arouses and angers you as a primal, monstrous need to dominate him flares at the base of your skull. It’s another blow to your twisted, broken ego, pulling you down from the precipice of total annihilation. It humbles and excites you just enough to let hope seed in amongst the putrid rot of self-hatred in your chest.

“If it’s yours,” you pant as you feel the subtle fraying of your nerves as your orgasm builds, “Then take it, show me how much you need me Simon Riley,” you growl, invoking his name like the night in Tripoli, “Show me you��re worthy of me.”

“Yes, My Lady,” he whimpers into your slick folds as he fucks his thick fingers into you, a pace and force strong enough to bruise if you were capable of such a thing, “Anything for you.”

Your mouth burns with the venom that leaks from your fangs as you dose yourself on your own poison. It’s blistering euphoria as you clench hard around Simon’s fingers. Slick gushes from you, coating his mouth, his chin, and his fingers. You scream his name as you remove your hands from his head, fisting and ripping at the bedsheets. Even this far gone, you will not hurt him.

Never again.

“Simon,” you whisper as you tremble, legs falling weakly as he laps gently at your core, worshiping at the altar of your sex as he drives you to overstimulated bliss.

“Did I do well?” He asks softly as he dips his tongue into your quivering core, causing your back to arch.

“Of course,” you croon as you sit up, fingertips tracing the scarred ridges that litter his face, palms cradling his jaw, “More than well, Simon, my love,” you whisper as you press your cool forehead against his, eyes closed as you let yourself just feel. Heat flows between you as his hands find your face.

“May I fuck you?” He asks, strong nose pressing against yours as he kneels between your legs, amber eyes flashing with desperation while he awaits your command. He smells of you, your essence smeared over his lips making you shudder as you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I don’t want you to ask permission like I’m your Lady,” you say as you feel his apprehension spike across your bond, “I want you to take what is already yours, Simon. As my lover. Not as a pale imitation of a pet.”

He pauses and you feel the flash of indecision under your skin like it is your own before his eyes darken. There’s something simmering under the surface as he trails his hands down your body, lingering on your waist as his thick fingers curl around your hips.

“I need you,” he murmurs your name, “I will have you.”

“Then take me,” you purr as you twist your fingers through his hair, pulling his head back taut as he snarls, “Use me, show me the meaning of need.”

Simon presses you back into the mattress, his hips slotting between your thighs as you feel his cock slap against your clit. You look down to see how broad he looks, and whimper at the sight of his hips rocking lazily back and forth. His tip catches at your entrance before he slides his shaft up through your folds.

You tremble as his bulbous head bumps against your overly sensitive bundle of nerves again and again. He’s toying with you now, making you squirm as he tests the limits of your patience. But you simply smirk up at him as you drag your fingernails down the column on his neck, his hips stutter and the way he grins down at you is almost enough to make your heart beat again.

“So beautiful beneath me,” he coos as he finally relents, notching himself at your aching core, “Oh fuck.”

He presses into you slowly, stretching you out, filling you to the brim in one slow, agonising roll of his hips. You huff out an empty breath, devoid of the air you no longer breathe, but the instinct to make room for his weight on top of you, deep inside you, prevails.

“Take me so well,” he grunts as he presses his chest against yours, head falling forward as he nips at the line of your jaw, “Like we were made to be together.”

You wrap your ankles around his waist as you expose your throat for him, it’s an unspeakable act of submission to a human. But you don’t care, you war with the monstrous instinct that makes your blood boil. You want to give Simon this, this symbolic gesture of equality. What he does with it, you dare to hope will change things for the better between you.

No more invisible noose around his neck, nor stake pressed to your heart.

He presses his cheek to your own, his scent invading your senses as you wrap your arms around his back, digging your nails into him as he slowly pulls almost all the way out.

“Bite me again,” he whispers against your skin, right where your pulse once throbbed, “I can take it.”

“Simon, I-,” you’re cut off by the arcing pain that erupts from your neck as he sinks his blunt, inefficient teeth into your neck, sucking wildly as he snaps his hips into you. He groans into your neck as the loud, wet slapping of skin on skin weaves through the air between you.

Pleasure rips through you as he splits you in two on his cock. It’s maddening as you feel another orgasm flaring hot at the base of your spine. You can’t help the way your fangs slide back over your lips as his sweat glistens on his neck. His blood pulses visibly under his skin as you let go, lips pressing to the thrum of his lifeblood. It echoes in your mind as you taste the salt of his skin.

“Please,” he growls one more time before you lose your grip on your carefully cultivated self-control.

Your fangs sink into his skin and you drink greedily the moment the tang of his blood hits your lips. Your pussy clenches like a vice around him as he ruts into you, desperate noises spilling from his mouth as he bites you again and again.

You take from him as his thrusts increase in pace, your release crackling up your spine as you try to last a little longer. Honey and cinnamon, spill onto your tongue as you gulp down more than you should. But Simon doesn’t falter, his pace punishing as he chases his own release now.

“Simon,” you whine as you force yourself to stop, “I’m gonna come.”

“Do it, milk me dry, fucking- hah- please.”

You do as instructed, a coy smile on your lips as you realise you enjoy being dictated to by him. Your orgasm blurs the line between your bodies as you clench hard around him in desperate, erratic bursts. You pull him into a kiss, letting him taste himself as your tongues tangle together. You swallow his shallow moans as his rhythm falters and he snaps his hips into you twice more before he’s buried to the hilt, filling you with his spend.

You’re bound together in a mess of hot and cold limbs, Simon’s ragged breaths fanning across your skin as he kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you until you have to roll him onto his side to stop him.

“Enough,” you scold him playfully as you curl into the deep warmth of his form.

You lie there quietly for some time before you feel the tension leave his body, his breathing slows and you hear the telltale sign of sleep in his heartbeat. You peel yourself out of his embrace to clean up in the bathroom down the hall. It’s not strictly necessary, but you were a sucker for sexual hygiene in life, you were never going to give that up, even in undeath.

Once you’ve washed up, you head back to your bedroom, grabbing Simon some water and a protein bar on the way.

He’s exactly where you left him, sound asleep as his blood smears against the sheets around him. It’s a beautiful sight, seeing him like this, exhausted and sated but not broken. It’s not something you’re used to, not something you ever thought you’d see.

“Come back to bed,” he grumbles, and you can’t help but smile as you throw the bottle of water and snack onto the bed next to him.

“Only after you’ve eaten something and drink all of that water,” you protest as you settle on your knees next to him. You refrain from touching him as your euphoria ebbs, there’s a bitterness clinging to you as you realise that you’ve lured him back into danger.

“It’s ok,” he says as he rips open the packaging of the snack bar, “I’m ok.”

He rests a broad palm on your knee and you feel the assurance flood your mind. He’s baring his heart and soul to you through your bond and you nod. Despite the fear in your gut that threatens to devore you whole, you believe him.

“So,” you start as you watch Simon finish off the protein bar, “You going to tell me who I need to murder?”

“What?” He nearly chokes on a mouthful of water as you feel the panic rise in his chest.

“You had help,” you say, probing against his mind with your own, “With this.”

“Ah,” he chuckles as he flops back on the bed, “Yeah, Johnny’s been helping me with it, with everything.”

“Son of a bitch,” you grumble as you realise Soap has probably seen more of you through Simon’s mind’s eye than you’d like.

“He got a nip slip, of sorts,” Simon grumbles as his cheeks flush pink, “Asked me to think of the strongest memory, focus on it, channel it,” the aforementioned memory rippling into your mind as you watch yourself, asleep in Simon’s bed. It’s from the first time Simon let you feed from him, you’re splayed out under a simple sheet, moonlight illuminating your form. Your left breast is uncovered as you watch Simon move the sheet back up to cover you.

“I remember this night,” you say with a smile playing on your lips, “We fucked like rabbits,” you giggle to yourself as you feel a new wave of emotion rush in through your bond.

“Thrall or not,” he says with a heavy sigh as he pulls you down to lie on his chest, “It was the first night I knew this was more than a fling.”

And you feel the truth in his words, the raw honesty and the clarity in his mind. It sets your mind at ease, for the first time in months, you don’t feel like you’re damned to ruin him. You rest on his chest as his heart hammers in his chest, a deep rhythm etched into your soul.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you feel his breathing slow as sleep threatens to take him.

“For what?” He asks, thick fingers tracing patterns on your back as he holds you impossibly close.

“For trusting me, for getting better,” you breathe as you place sloppy kisses to his pectoral.

“Was selfish,” he shrugs it off as he places a kiss to the top of your head, “Can’t love you if I’m dead, can I?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I guess you can’t.”

There’s an unspoken understanding, flowing between your psychic link as you vow to keep him safe. To keep him by your side. For as long as he wants you.

You eventually settle back under the sheets, tangled together, saying little as you pull the blankets around you both. You know this isn’t perfect, that there is work you and Simon need to do, things that need to be said. You know there will be more pain to come but for now you’re content to exist in this moment a little longer.

And for the first time since you died, you feel warm.

Ghost Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | AO3

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teojira · 28 days

Text

[Caesar and Proximus' day to day life] [headcanons]

Summary: You're a human companion to the two apes, this is little things to expect as you live with them and in addition, the rest of the apes.

Word count: 900+

Warnings: None that I can think of! This is mostly platonic, some romance in Caesars if you squint.

Pronouns: Not specified.

A/N: first Planet of the apes request!! I'm so excited, shoutout to the other writers on ao3 I've looked up to for years. I hope this is okay anon! I couldn't reference back to your ask since I lost it and I hope this is the general idea you were hoping for 💀🙏

[Caesar]

For the sake of this, Caesar did NOT die at the end of war, and you're immune to the disease! (Nova is also fine here bc fuck you that's my daughter)

Truth be told it was very very very fortunate for you that you appealed to his good side after all this time, He's tired.

Tired of being hurt, tired of losing family, but he has no choice but to push on, when you offered at first to help him with any injuries or issues that arise in the colony, it's a firm no.

Despite everything he's been through, Caesar does love humans, he think a part of him always will, so just keep trying and you will crack his shell.

Once you two finally have something akin to friendship, is when he finally learns that he can rely on you.

It isn't uncommon to see you holding Cornelius and walking to and from different parts of the colony, Caesar trying in vain to tell you to let the boy down, saying you'll start to spoil him (it's too late, Cornelius will start to go to you for when his dad tells him no.)

Caesar doesn't really think he'd ever find another mate, but without his notice, you start to fill in that role.

Spending the most time with him, helping him make decisions, taking care of Cornelius, helping the other apes learn and sign, you take on the role fairly well.

It isn't uncommon for you to tend to his wounds, he prefers to go to you versus the others, he acts akin to a child when in your care though, hissing dramatically when you rub a salve on his forearm. It results in you slapping his shoulder and it makes him laugh.

Speaking of laughing, he never thought having you around would lighten the weight of the world he constantly holds over his shoulders, you make him feel young again. Before all of this.

He grows fonder of you when he sees some aspects of Caroline in you, noting just how loving and caring you are not only to him, but to everyone, Maurice, Rocket, even Bad ape with how much of an odd ball he is.

Caesar may be the leader (and old, you remind him. He ignores you.) but it doesn't mean he can stay at the colony all day, he goes out to hunt with the others, and when he does, he'll come to you and do a palms up, waiting for your permission.

He doesn't need it, but it makes you feel better when you see him off.

Maybe this is me projecting but he is SO possessive of you, he's lost so much, he lost Buck, Luca, Blue eyes, Cornelia, Koba, Will, his grandfather.

It puts him on the defense, never wanting you to go anywhere without at least one ape to protect you. It'll lead to arguments you Will not win.

Sorry if you just want to go to the river to wash up, either he's coming with you or Rocket is. Too Bad so sad.

Other apes come to you to ask you to ask Caesar if they can do something they Know he would never approve of, it's because they know out of everyone here, with the exception of a handful of apes, you're his soft spot.

Many apes were concerned with you joining them, but you've earned your spot among them, you are loved and trusted.

Koba would be rolling in his grave, seeing you work alongside Caesar, being a genuinely good person and a loving companion.

[Proximus]

It's canon that Proximus has a fondness for humans, but it's so severely different than Caesars, no matter how much he claims to be like the former.

You're more so of a toy to him, similar to Trevathan, but while he reads the Bonobo literature and teaches him things, you're like a pet. You keep him entertained.

This isn't to say he treats you cruelly though, all things considered, you're taken care of fairly well with a lot of luxuries the other apes under his rule are not privy to.

You wear a collar, which is demeaning, but it is better than having a chain connected to it, so everyone knows you're his.

Poor Sylva being forced to be your guard when you ask if you can go walking alone the beach, he doesn't want to do it but he WILL (he becomes fond of you begrudgingly, partially out of respect for Proximus but you're too nice for your own good, asking him how his day is going and whatnot. He hates you.)

Proximus calls you pet, btw. He knows your name but will only use it when it's the two of you or for special occasions.

Brings you out into the colony to show you all the progress being made, he's looking for his ego to be inflated, go ahead and do it so you two can head back inside and get out of the heat.

He likes to show you off while he does, telling his subjects that you're special, like Nova was to Caesar. He's delusional and Caesar would be fucking pissed to be compared.

He doesn't need you to do much honestly, you're meant to sit there and look pretty and make him feel important. Maybe help him out with grooming and taking care of his belongings. He trusts you to mend and keep his crown and his attire in good condition.

Likes to play with your hair, the texture is different than apes, and he finds it soothing to run his fingers through it or just pet your head. Once again, it is very demeaning, but it could be worse.

Like Caesar, he is possessive and will try and limit your contact with the others in fear you'll like them more. Your little trio consists of you, himself, and Sylva. He lets you interact with Trevathan, but it's not an everyday thing.

He does care for you more than he'd ever admit, but it doesn't mean he'll particularly change for your sake, at least not intentionally. He's kinda insane and kinda a piece of shit, and you're aware of this.

Makes you sit next to him when he hosts dinners, making sure to pat your head and coo at you (When Noa first sees you at the table getting treated like how he'd treat an eagle, he gives you one of his signature side eyes bc lmao what the fuck is going on)

When it comes down to the ending of the movie when he dies, you're at a loss, Mae frankly thinks you're too far gone, and Noa is not willing to take a chance to offer you a home.

All you have really left to do is to go back to the colony and what's left of it, back to the remaining apes and humans still left unattended. Telling them they're free to go.

At some point among the years of being the closest to Proximus, you do care for him, and it's hard to think he's gone, he offered you a sense of security and belonging, but it's gone now.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

#heres the apes post lets see if anyone unfollows me /j #i dont care i warned on the pin LMAO #teddy loves apes ☆#planet of the apes x reader #planet of the apes #pota #kotpota #planet of the apes caesar #kingdom of the planet of the apes Proximus Caesar #Proximus Caesar #Caesar

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boundinparchment · 8 months

Text

In Trenodia

Long-distance marriages are difficult. But you and Wriothesley always manage to make time for one another. Female Reader/Wriothesley. Second scene is implied to occur after Act 4 of the Fontaine Archon Quest. Song for title inspiration - 'In Trenodia' by VV. CW: smut, breeding kink if you squint, oral, cunnilingus MINORS DNI. RATED EXPLICIT. On AO3 here.

After routine confirmations of invoices and goods, along with small talk from the surface, you were escorted to your husband’s office. As you were every visit. No one, not even the Duchess, was exempt from protocol.

By now you knew every guard’s name and face and remembered their troubles from the last time you visited. It wasn’t easy to live in the depths, let alone work in them. You knew the other side, what it was to be without, and you easily understood the toll separation took. Words from you might not soothe, not entirely, but expectation danced on every face and you saw it as your duty to bring what reassurance and reprieve you could.

The guards sent word ahead of your arrival, naturally, so you did not expect to surprise Wriothesley nor be interrupted while you were there.

Years ago, the large imposing doors frightened you. You had not expected the Duke himself to want to speak to you. In hindsight, it made sense: you were a small vendor directly supplying him. He had been so impressed that your honey did not taint his tea beyond recognition. Wriothesley was instead immediately interested in how your methods varied from those used by the companies that mechanically processed the liquid as well as other beekeepers.

Moments like those left you lighter than air. But they also managed to claw at the wound that never truly closed. One you were used to nursing in the later hours of the night. Distance made the heart grow fonder, of course; it also served as a chasm that would never be truly crossed.

Now was not the time for such melancholy, you reminded yourself.

As you entered Wriothesley’s office and the guard closed the doors behind you, you could make out the faintest familiar notes from the phonograph. With a large jar of liquid gold tucked under your arm, you climbed the stairs and crested just as Wriothesley looked up from his paperwork.

The weariness under his eyes and in the thin line of his mouth faded, barely visible as he laid eyes on you.

“You have impeccable timing, my love,” he said as you approached, lips quirking into a soft smile. “Just when I was about to take a break.”

You rested the jar on the desk, the contents almost glowing from the way the light passed through the contents, and leaned over to meet him for a kiss. Your heart jolted, as it always did, at the sensation of his soft lips on yours and at the scent of his shaving cream.

Wriothesley stood and stretched for a moment, rolling his shoulder as he rounded the desk. He picked up the jar with a single hand to examine it and held it up to the light.

“Darker this year. How was the yield? Did you have any trouble harvesting?”

You shook your head.

“Monsieur Lockwood’s Rainbow Roses were quite the feast for the hives. The taste is mild enough but I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

He cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. You carefully took the jar from his grasp, opened it, and dipped your finger into the honey, extracting just enough to sample. Wriothesley’s hand, large and warm, encircles your wrist and guided your finger to his mouth. He licked methodically, savoring every drop as his eyes closed for a moment in thought.

When he opened them again, you caught the faintest hint of hunger mingled with astonishment.

“Floral without being over-powering. Refreshing, even. My compliments to the hive.”

“I’ll be sure to give them your praises,” you laughed as you closed the jar and set it aside.

Wriothesley’s hands found your face, the rough pads of his fingers ghosting over your skin. He lowered his head to brush his nose against yours, a playful smirk on his face.

“I can think of only one gift sweeter than any honey you bring me,” he whispered.

“And what would that be, Your Grace?”

“You.”

This time, the kiss you shared was deep, eager, and full of longing. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you tasted the last remnants of honey when his tongue brushed yours and elicited a low moan from deep in his chest. Wriothesley maneuvered you against the desk and then reached for your legs, lifting you to the surface with ease and hiking up your skirt to settle between your legs.

Hours later, when duty could no longer be pushed aside, Wriothesley would escort you back to the passageway to the surface.

You would leave with flushed cheeks and sticky thighs, with only memories of his laugh and loving gaze to ease the ache in your heart until your next visit.

You hadn’t anticipated the possibility of another outcome.

After all, you were married to a man sentenced to live in exile, to work in the shadows and support those sentenced to a different life than one provided on the surface. When he told you of the circumstances, how he came to be prisoner and then warden, he wiped away your tears before they could spill and you understood that he held a love far larger than himself.

He was not a man of sentimentality, your Wriothesley; he was a man of loyalty, of action.

So, one morning when you spotted the figure walking up the path to your humble home (modest by most standards of Fontaine’s highest rankings of nobility), your heart immediately leapt into your throat and stayed there, like a stone.

Were you hallucinating?

Surely not.

You would know that hair and gait even through the beekeeping veil currently clenched in your hands. The report of recent events arrived with your morning post and you were keen to set to work. If you worked, you could not worry about the murmurs of Fatui presence, the recent trial with a Harbinger, nor your cook’s mumbling about the prophecy you grew up hearing.

Wriothesley was working on a solution, one that only solidified his sense of duty to the nation that gave him a second chance.

His gray eyes skimmed over you from heel to head as he drew closer in the cresting morning light, golden rays catching the fastenings of his overcoat. You couldn’t even get a word out of your mouth before he cupped your face and kissed you, ardently, thumbs brushing just under your eyes.

“Wriothesley—” you gasped, his name nothing more than a rush of air when the kiss broke and you were wrapped in his arms, his presence sturdy, warm.

When you pulled away, you could see the fine lines from lack of sleep, the way worry had settled into the corners of his mouth and the hardness of his eyes. He hid them well but he always lowered his metaphorical mask around you, just enough for the truth to peer out.

“I had to deliver a report to the Chief Justice in-person. It didn’t make sense to come all this way only to not see you,” he said softly. “They’ll just have to forgive me for breaking protocol to see my wife at least one more time.”

His expression softened and his gaze traced over you the way an artist’s brush touched canvas. Wriothesley pried one hand from your hat and bringing it to your lips. “Your Grace.”

Your face grew hot as you held his gaze and you couldn’t help but match his smile. How long had it been since he’d been up here, on the surface, at your too-empty home?

“I was going to check on the hives and fields before breakfast. Care to join me?”

“Nothing I’d love more.”

At this hour, the hives were quiet, as were the fields. The sky was finally beginning to turn from inky blue to orange, gold, and pink beyond the lines of trees surrounding the property. A new morning, full of potential, even if the colors were slightly different for him.

You weren’t sure who turned first, who initiated the slow kiss that only seemed to deepen with every passing second. Time itself seemed to stop when you tugged slightly on Wriothesley’s tie to bring him down into the tall grass. He complied, arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him as the soft blades beneath you gave way.

“Adventurous this morning, aren’t you, my Duchess?” Wriothesley teased above you, his knee nestled in the perfect spot between your legs.

“Mmm, more like taking advantage of the opportunity while we have it,” you replied, smiling as you reached up to kiss him.

Your body reacted to him like metal in a thunderstorm every time, instantly aware of your own needs, overwhelmed by the love that flooded your heart. Distance was difficult for ordinary couples and the decision to continue, to marry, hadn’t been easy.

But this sensation, moments where you were the only two in the entire world. It made all the struggles worth it.

“Sunlight comes with you everywhere, makes you almost glow…” he whispered.

You reached for him, pushed his coat from his shoulders and made quick work of his shirt buttons, exposing his scarred chest. In return, the stays of your dress were pulled apart, the fabric pooling at your waist and revealing your breasts, nipples hardening in the slight morning chill.

“I can’t remember the last time I smelled grass. Smelled flowers, wild flowers not yet cut. Nothing smells the same down there, where the sun can never reach…always smells like burnt metal.”

His mouth was hot on your skin, hungry but tempered as his teeth grazed the column of your neck and his lips found your breasts. A jolt ran through you from heart to core as he flicked his tongue over your nipple and then sucked, just enough to elicit a gasp from you. His free hand traced the curve of your other breast before he switched, tongue swirling gently.

Your hands found purchase in his black and gray hair, mussing it further as he worked downwards and pushed your skirts up to your waist. He gazed up at you through his lashes as he pushed aside your panties, fingers dancing along your folds and finding you slick and swollen.

“Beautiful,” he breathed against your thighs, the words tickling your sensitive flesh. His tongue brushed your lips and he moaned softly. “Tastes as exquisite as it looks.”

His hand parted your folds a little further and his tongue returned to stroke you. You arched your back as he swirled circles against your clit, a familiar sensation sitting low in your belly to stoke the throbbing ache deep inside you. Your fingers in Wriothesley’s hair tightened as you pulled slightly in your eagerness, unsure if you wanted him to stop or push you over the edge.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace, I wouldn’t finish you so quickly,” Wriothesley teased. “But I do want to savior you.”

True to his word, you never peaked. But he did keep you on the precipice, eternally aware of the white-hot heat searing through your veins and your ever-growing need to be even closer to him.

Wriothesley only pulled away after pressing one finger into your wet heat and kissing your clit with a flick of his tongue. You looked towards him, craning your neck to find your essence across his jaw and chin, glistening in the morning light. His gaze was lost for a moment, memorizing you.

After all, you never knew when the next time to see each other would come. You might be able to predict and show up with a jar of honey and steal hours of his time. Or, as you were this morning, you might be informed of events beyond almost anyone’s control.

You watched as Wriothesley freed himself from the confines of his trousers and positioned himself above you again. He brushed himself against your wet folds, back and forth, and he groaned.

“I love that sound. So wet for me…”

Your eyes never left his as he pressed into you, slow and steady, and buried himself to the hilt. Deep inside, your walls were already squeezing. Both of you let out a sound that begged the other to hold on a little longer.

You craned your neck up as Wriothesley bent down, foreheads pressed together and eyes fluttering shut as he withdrew entirely before starting with slow, deep strokes.

“Need this to last,” he whispered against your lips. “To feel every inch of you around me.”

His composure slowly slipped away as you tilted your head and kissed him, sweet and full. You wrapped your arms around him, hands finding his shoulder muscles. One of your feet, devoid of its shoe, rested at the top of his thigh; just before he could pull out entirely again, you pushed him deeper inside of you.

“I want to feel you even when you’re gone,” you murmured. “So I have something to tell me this wasn’t just a dream.”

More words sprung to your mind but they were washed away by the fire building within you. Wriostheley grunted as your walls squeezed slightly, begging him for more. You caught a mischievous glint in your husband’s eyes when he pulled back slightly and reached for your foot. He gently folded your leg and pressed it against you, giving him a better angle.

“I have a better idea.” He wriggled slightly and you gasped as he twitched deep inside you at the perfect spot. “I’ll come right here…fill you up over and over…”

He sped up his pace, your breathing ragged as your scents mingled with the grass and wildflowers. The coil deep in your belly tightened and you felt everything else fall away as your toes curled and white-hot heat threatened your entire existence.

“Wriothesley—"

Light exploded across your vision as you shuddered and convulsed around him, underneath him. It was too much and not enough all at once, your hips bucking as Wriothesley helped you ride out the aftershocks. He twitched again, burying his face in your neck as he released inside you.

He pulled away only enough to push your hair out of your face and grin down at you, eyes bright. His face was flushed and his hair absolutely ruined but backlit by the morning sun, he looked almost otherworldly.

“I’d like that,” he said softly. “To see you carry my child. Our child.”

You wriggled your hips again, your bodies still coupled. Wriothesley hissed and shifted his weight slightly to keep you from moving. He was just as sensitive as you were and you couldn’t help but grin up at him.

“If you keep that up, we’ll be here all morning, Your Grace.”

“Good.”

#wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x female reader #female reader #fem reader #wriothesley x you #in which wriothesley is your husband and you share a morning together #reader has slight personality but not much #smut #minors dni #tw: smut #tw: breeding

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daffi-990 · 2 months

Text

stuck now so long, we just got the start wrong

aka rival firefighters 🚒 | buddie | chapter 3/10 | Explicit

“Firefighter Diaz, it’s been a while.” Buck says in greeting as the other firefighter turns around.

Diaz’s hair is sweaty and loose, a few strands falling forward over his forehead that have Buck’s fingers twitching with the want to touch. His face is coated in a mix of dust and maybe car oil? Buck doesn’t know exactly what the black stuff is but it is a look and Diaz is pulling it off.

Diaz clenches his jaw as his eyes harden. “Not long enough.” He mutters, walking past Buck.

“Oh come on!” Buck follows after him. “I bet you’ve missed me. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

Buck certainly missed Diaz and his big brown eyes and thick fucking thighs that are connected to such a glorious ass. He really wishes the man wasn’t wearing his turnouts. It’s a crime to keep an ass like that locked away.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder but I still find you incredibly annoying and wish you’d stay gone.” Diaz shoots back, looking 100% done with Buck and the conversation.

Buck also missed this, whatever this is. He gets such a high from flirting with and teasing Diaz. Maybe it’s the hard to get ideal that’s doing it for him, but whatever it is, Buck likes riling Diaz up and today is no different.

“You wound me!” Buck clutches at his heart in mock offense.

Read Chapter Three on AO3

#fic: stuck now so long we just got the start wrong #rival firefighters fic #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #buck x eddie

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crosshairlovebot · 11 days

Text

falling for mr. batchbury (part two) / hunter x f!reader

pairing: hunter x f!reader

description: your long-awaited reunion with mr. batchbury has finally come, and so do you.

REGENCY AU

word count: 8,107

warnings: NSFW 18+ explicit sexual content. loss of vriginity (f). p in v s*x. oral s*x (f receiving). lots of kissing. handj*bs. biting. unprotected s*x. cr*ampie. outdoor s*x. partly clothed s*x. religious comparions.

thank you so much for your support on part one.!! the regency hunter/bad batch art that has come from this has been amazing to see i love it so much!! i got v carried away but i enjoyed writing this sm, so i hope you enjoy reading it <3

also posted on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

PART TWO

According to his letters, Mr. Hugo Batchbury earned the nickname “Hunter” due to his uncanny ability to seek out enemy ships and find hidden encampments during the war. You had always known his senses to be more attuned than a normal person, so it seemed fitting for him. And it was why you ventured into your estate’s gardens, knowing he’d be able to find you with ease.

You hurried down the stone steps, lifting the skirt of your gown so you wouldn’t trip as you left the din of the ball behind you.

The ball had been to celebrate your father’s return from war. Of course, that meant the Batchbury Brothers had also returned, each with a nickname of their own. William had come to be known as ‘Wrecker’ due to his enthusiasm with the ship's cannons. Thomas became ‘Tech’ as his knowledge of engineering and other contraptions was second to none. Carlisle’s superior aim with a pistol had bestowed him with the name ‘Crosshair’. You had read it all in Mr. Batchbury’s letters, which were frequent enough that missing him was only agonising, not excruciating.

In the years that passed while they were at sea, writing was the only comfort you had – and knowing they served under your father who was a master at his profession. Your heart raced when the footman brought in the post and there was a letter from Mr. Batchbury. Usually, he would write two – one for you and one for Meg.

His letters to you varied, sometimes they told you of what he’d been doing, sometimes they held a tale from the decks of the ship, some mischief played as they rode the waves. But each contained his voice through written script, the words of the sentences so familiar you could hear them in his voice as you read.

You fell more in love with him through his letters, and he with you. Each one he sent would always detail his love for you, his eagerness to come home and love you at a nearer distance, his wish to marry you when he returned. It all sent thrills and pangs through you.

My thoughts of you only seem to increase the longer we are apart, he’d once written. My sketchbook has run out of pages, and until I can find a new one to fill, I draw your face in my dreams.

Your entire being longed to be with him.

You would write to him too, but the time between letters being sent and arriving for both of you seemed to grow more extensive as the months and years went on.

What was it they said, absence makes the heart grow fonder? Well, your heart's fondness for Mr. Batchbury was so strong it ached. You even requested he send you a self-portrait, just so you could see him face. He’d given it in his next letter – his face so beautifully etched in charcoal, his brow strong over intense black circles of eyes, the curve of his jaw shaded with his birthmark. You had to be careful you didn’t drop tears on it when you gazed upon it.

Meg missed him too – she missed all her brothers dearly, and she followed the papers diligently for news, thrumming with excitement when she received a letter from any of them. She had grown so much in the years that had past. Now eighteen, she had matured into a young lady; she was kind, compassionate and amiable. She was as tall as her brothers and seemed to have absorbed all their best traits too, even if they were far away.

You had been with her as she watched from the window, waiting for their carriage to arrive the afternoon just gone. She bounced on her toes in excitement while you sat on the lounge nearby, just as excited but simultaneously so anxious to see Mr. Batchbury you felt like you might be ill.

What if he saw you and you were not as he remembered? Or what if he saw you and his feelings for you were merely spurred by distance, and now were non-existent? You knew his heart to be mountainous, but mountains did fall victim to erosion when weathered by strong winds.

When you heard Meg squeal, you had jumped from your thoughts. “They’re here! They’re back! They’re here!”

She raced from the room, and you gaped for a moment before following her, your footsteps just as quick. Despite your anxieties, you were still desperate to see him.

And you father, too. You couldn’t forget about him.

You followed her outside and watched as Meg skidded to a stop as the carriage slowed and the horses stilled. The carriage door was thrown open as William– Wrecker emerged. You knew it was him from his build. He guffawed as he wrapped his arms around Meg, lifting her up and spinning her. You heard Meg laugh as you approached.

You realised Wrecker now sported an impressive scar from his ear and across one side of his face, an eye patch covering one eye, his head completely shaved. The other brothers filed out of the carriage, Thomas– Tech had a limp and now held a cane on his left side, Carlisle– Crosshair had a burn scar on one side of his head, the same side as the smattering of port wine that splashed over his right eye. He also had a wooden attachment on one hand to replace one he had evidently lost.

They each had been changed by their time at war, but they still gathered Meg into their arms, their love for their sister eternal.

Your breath hitched when you saw Mr. Batchbury– Hunter move down the carriage steps, his boots crunching on the gravel.

His hair was longer, and the bandana had changed from bright red to a rich colour that matched his port wine birthmark, but apart from that it was as if no time had passed. How was it possible he looked exactly the same? In fact, he looked even more handsome, as if the time spent in the sea air had not weathered him, but ripened his beauty.

You watched as he held his arms out for Meg, who jumped into them. He smiled into her neck, arms wrapping around her tightly, squeezing. You heard Meg begin to cry into her older brother’s shoulders, her own shaking. Your heart squeezed for her.

Though her brothers were everything to her, there was something different about her bond with Hunter. He was more than her brother, he was her guardian too, the one she always turned to, the one who had taken her in and cared for her no questions asked. Hunter was Meg’s mountain, and being without him had been harder on her than she liked to admit. Hunter soothed her with gentle shushes, one of his hands running up and down her back.

“It’s alright, Meg. I’m here now,” you heard him console her gently. “I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

You felt your eyes sting with tears at the heartfelt reunion. They pulled away, and you watched Hunter wipe away his sister’s tears with the pad of his thumb, a smile matching his misty eyes. You watched his hands grab hers as he took a step back, seeing her stand at his height.

“You’re so big now,” his voice cracked.

Meg laughed lightly, wiping her eyes. “You missed a lot.”

“Too much.” Hunter shook his head. “Never again.”

“Never,” Meg agreed.

“Hey!” Wrecker’s loud voice boomed when he spotted you. “Look who it is!”

You held your breath as Hunter’s eyes landed on yours. You watched the way his eyes and shoulders softened, his mouth parted. You watched his mouth turn up at the side, and the stain on his cheek darken at the sight of you. It appeared his penchant to flush at the sight of you had not changed either.

You flushed. Why had you even been worried again?

You cleared you throat and took a step forward. “The Batchbury Brothers have returned.”

“You bet!” Wrecker cheered. “And in one piece!”

“Speak for yourself,” Crosshair sneered, his remaining hand gripping the wrist of his prosthetic.

“We are, mostly, unharmed,” Tech adjusted his glasses with his free hand. “Hunter is the only one of us to remain unscathed.”

Hunter sighed and shook his head. “We all survived. That’s what matters.”

“And we’re rich!” Wrecker laughed proudly.

“I heard about your acquisition of prizemoney,” you said. “Congratulations. It is a great accomplishment for you all.”

“It gives us many opportunities now,” Hunter said carefully, meeting your eyes knowingly. You felt your heartbeat pick up.

Did he…mean…?

You felt your expression lift as you gazed at him hopefully, and you watched his birthmark darken again as he smiled softly at you. The smile conveyed all the love he held for you, steadfast and immovable even after five years, even through a war. Your heart squeezed and you felt as though you might faint.

He did mean that.

“Is my father on his way?” you inquired, slightly breathless as his words danced around your head, the realisation so fanciful it hardly seemed real.

Hunter nodded. “He said he had some paperwork to drop off in London, but he should arrive by this evening.”

“Wonderful,” you breathed, smiling at him with what you hoped conveyed the same amount of love, if not more.

Now, under the cover of the moon and the ball long behind you, you raced through the maze to the centre of it; the very maze where your love for each other had blossomed. You were breathless, and you could feel the bones of your tight corset cutting into your ribs, but you didn’t care.

He would be here soon.

“Hey,” you heard his smoky tenor from behind you. You whirled around to see him standing there, holding a lantern he had taken from the courtyard adjacent to the ballroom. Along with a grey waistcoat, he wore his newly tailored dresscoat, black with some red embroidery stitched into the cuffs and collar. His black boots glistened in the light of the moon, and in lieu of his bandana, he wore a red cravat instead.

He looked dashing.

“Mr. Batchbury,” you breathed as you took in the sight fo him.

How was it fair that he looked beautiful in all lights?

He chuckled. “Are we still using such formalities?”

You were unable to hide your smile. “What shall I call you then? ‘Hunter’?” you teased lightly.

You watched as he inhaled sharply, hands that were once relaxed now clenched. “Yes,” he rasped, his eyes never strayed from you. “Hunter is perfect.”

“Very well…Hunter,” you smiled. You liked the way it sounded on your tongue, and Hunter seemed to as well, returning a closed-mouth smile at you as he continued to gaze longingly at you. Your face felt hot as you fiddled with your fingers awkwardly. The moment of silence passed through you both. You looked at him before tittering nervously. Hunter cocked his head.

“What is it?”

“All these years, I thought I would be gushing with things to say, but words have seemed to escape me,” you joked.

Hunter chuckled, a hearty sound, and walked towards you slowly with the lantern before setting it down on the stone bench beside you both. Now, in the dim orange glow, you were close enough to see those familiar brown-grey eyes, unchanged despite the time that passed.

“It’s been a long time. Far too long,” he murmured, eyes travelling across your face like a caress. You swallowed, flustered by his attentions.

You wished you were more articulate, but you had missed him so much, it was taking everything in you not to just kiss him, to instead prelude such a thing with pleasantries so it would not be so forward. It had been a long time, and you had only a few hours together where you knew of each others feelings before he left. This whole thing was unfamiliar territory for you. You knew how to be in love with him from afar, from across an ocean, but had no idea how to do it in such close proximity.

“You look well,” you said. It was a severe understatement.

“You look beautiful,” Hunter told you earnestly, his fingertips gently nudged your hands and you let them latch around yours. Your breath hitched as you felt his warm touch against your hands as he held them assuredly, his thumb drawing circles over the back of your hand. “My sketches and my memory did not do you justice.”

You felt butterflies take flight inside you. “I was worried about this part,” you breathed, too overwhelmed to think about the words that now seemed to fly out of you with no hesitation.

Hunter looked genuinely confused. “Why?”

You swallowed again and averted your eyes, focusing on the concrete next to you. “Because I hoped I would still be what you desired, after half a decade.”

Hunter tilted his head as he moved into your eyeline, forcing you to meet his eye as you both lifted your heads again. His brow was furrowed as he tried to understand. “How could you think I would no longer desire you? Did you not read my letters?”

“I did but…things can change,” you told him quietly.

Hunter’s frown deepened and he searched your face before he shook his head. He let go of one of your hands so he could cup the hinge of your jaw, the pad of his thumb gently caressing your cheekbone, his words quiet but sure.

“Not this,” he told you. “Never this.”

Your heart squeezed. He was not real. He could not be. You loved him so much you thought you might collapse, knees buckling because of how much it consumed you. You leaned into his hand and closed your eyes, breathing in deeply at how nice it was to hear such a thing. To know his heart remained as mountainous as it was when he left. When you opened your eyes again, you saw his brow was drawn together, his lips pressed together. You needed them on yours desperately.

“No,” you agreed, breathless.

You tilted your chin up a little, gaze falling to his lips, a silent begging for him to kiss you. You watched his eyes move to your lips and his words came out as he stared at them.

“I have something…I need to ask you,” he said slowly, like he was nervous, like he was reciting words he had practised. You felt your whole body ignite. He met your eyes once again. “I suspect you know what it is?”

“Yes,” you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper in disbelief. You knew what he was going to ask, and yet you felt yourself thrum with anticipation for hearing the words out loud. “I waited,” you told him.

Hunter nodded, a mirthful smile on his face, like he could hardly believe it either. “You waited.”

You smiled and you both gazed at each other. The warm glow of the lamp lit the side of his face untouched by his birthmark, and the ballroom felt like it was on a different planet, it was so far away. Only the stars were your witnesses above you, glowing dots painting the sky. His hands were warm on you, tethering you to him. It was just the two of you, in the maze – where you both began, and evidently, would be where you continued to be together.

“Marry me.” His husky voice spoke in the space between you, and those two little words made your heartbeat race and your stomach flip over. “Please. I…adore you. It would be my greatest honour to be wed to you.”

Tears of joy stung your eyes, and you unleashed an unbridled smile that you did not dare hold back. You nodded your head quickly, eager to tell him your answer, which you need not take time to consider, you’d had five years after all.

“Yes,” you laughed. “Yes, I will marry you.”

You watched Hunter’s face light up, joy stretching his mouth wide and squishing part of his port wine stain into a triangle on his cheek. He laughed happily as he brought his other hand to your face and pulled you in for your first kiss in five years.

Your hands moved to clutch his lapels as you kissed him back. You had dreamed of kissing him again, and it felt surreal to finally be doing it. His mouth was still as hot, gentle and coaxing as you remember, and you felt yourself pressing into him as he slanted his mouth over yours. You couldn’t stop smiling though, your mouth tipping up involuntarily with your immeasurable happiness as you kissed him. In response, Hunter’s mouth did the same, chuckling before he pulled back. He shook his head and kissed you chastely before he spoke again.

“In the morning, we’ll find the vicar. I don’t want to wait,” he said, his voice hoarse but full of conviction.

“Neither do I,” you agreed, watching the way the moon illuminated his curls.

“It’s been long enough. To be apart from you for any longer,” he pressed his forehead into yours. “It would be agony.”

“I cannot be without you another moment,” you told him before bringing his lips down to yours again. Hunter groaned as he kissed you, his hands travelling down towards your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You moved your hands to the nape of his neck, fisting the hair there. Hunter groaned again before he wrenched himself back, breathless. Apparently, he still had things to say. Could they not wait? You had struggled with words before, why did he want to say them now when there was kissing to do?

“Your father cannot disapprove of me.” he rushed out, like he was telling himself, reassuring himself. “I am no longer poor. He will let us marry.”

You smiled softly at him. All this doubt he had held, all these thoughts and apprehensions that had held him back before, they no longer existed. There was no war to fight, he was no longer destitute, Meg was well and he’d already set up a trust for her. His brothers were safe. And so was he. Everything had been taken care of. Hunter could finally allow himself to have something that he wanted. Something completely his own that did not require anyone’s opinion or approval. He had been a mountain for everyone, and now the storm had passed, the sun shone on his heart and there was no need to be worried about his family.

Though none of it had been a burden to him, Hunter could finally breathe, and he wanted to fill his lungs with you.

You brushed some hair off his forehead. “Even if he did disapprove, I would marry you anyway. I am yours, in whatever circumstance. I always have been.”

Hunter smiled, his expression soft and full of adoration. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you told him moments before Hunter brought his lips back to yours.

Hunter wrapped his arms around you and made a soft sound as you pressed into him. You felt his mouth guide yours open, and you let him, trusting him implicitly as he gently moved his tongue against yours.

You hadn’t kissed him like this before, but the hot wet of his mouth was obscenely wonderful and you were quickly obsessed with how it felt. You tried to stroke your tongue against his in the same motions and felt him moan into your mouth.

“Heavens above,” you felt him mumble as he dragged his mouth away from yours, moving it down your neck as he left open-mouthed kisses across your skin. You tilted your head back, mouth open as you caught your breath, overcome with the feel of his mouth on places you had only read about. You felt between your legs begin to get hot as you cradled his head to your neck, and when you felt him nip at your collarbone, you to let out a high-pitched cry. You were sure you were going to collapse any second.

“Hunter…” you panted.

Hunter moved across your collarbone, kissing the swallow of your neck as he did. His hands moved from your waist to hold your ass, his palms squeezing there. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you watched him move down towards the swell of your breast which spilled up the neckline of your gown, pressed by your corset.

He kissed the crease between them. “My love, if you will permit me.”

“Do whatever you wish with me,” you hastened to say, desperate for him not to stop.

Hunter did not need to be told twice before he kissed along the neckline, the soft flesh of your breasts meeting his lips. You mewled as his tongue lulled out and licked, before his teeth sunk into them.

“Hunter!” you moaned, head falling back.

You felt his hot breath on your now wet skin. He pulled away with a groan.

“My love, can I…can I please?” Hunter looked at you.

You blinked, trying to remember how to speak. “Can you what?”

“Can I feel you there? I fear I will perish if I do not,” he begged, eyes pleading like if you refused him, he might actually fall apart.

“I told you, do whatever you wish with me.”

A low sound came from the back of Hunter’s throat as he lowered to his knees in front of you. “Sit down on the bench.”

You followed his instruction and then he bunched up your gown before placing a hand between your legs. When you felt his fingers brush against your extremely wet folds, you whimpered and he groaned, a guttural sound that travelled right to your centre.

“Oh, Christ, you’re fucking drenched,” he rasped, moving his fingers against your seam. You panted, clutching his shoulder as pleasure travelled like lightning through your entire body. “And this is all for me.”

“All yours,” you whispered.

Hunter groaned again and pulled his fingers away. You whined at the loss of touch and then watched as he placed his fingers, wet with your slick, into his mouth. You whimpered as he moaned, his eyes closing as he tasted you.

“God, you’re heavenly.”

“Hunter,” you said breathlessly.

He wet his lips. “Can I taste more?”

“Stop asking and just do it,” you said quickly.

Hunter moved under your gown and you slid towards the edge of the bench a little more, hands gripping the stone as you felt his breath on your pussy. You cried out loudly when the flat of his tongue licked up your folds. The sensation was obscene and you felt like you were ascending when you felt his mouth move on you. You shuddered, indecent sounds coming from you as he licked and sucked, tongue moving across your most intimate part. You said his name like a chant as he moved his mouth and tongue expertly, his arms encircled your thighs, forefingers toying with the edge of your stocking, and you felt his moan vibrate against you.

“Hunter,” you strangled out, the sensations moving through you taking away your ability to utter anything but his name.

He placed your knees over his shoulders and continued to move his mouth on you. Your grip on the stone bench tightened as you leaned back at a new angle, your nails digging into the grains of the rock as you panted, the pleasure blooming inside you so heavenly you could barely put words to it.

Hunter’s tongue moved through your folds before he sucked on the small nub there. You jerked, yelping as he run his tongue over it, gently sucking as he continued to pull pleasure from you. You whined as he artfully moved his mouth over you. How was he so good at this?

You had only read about such things in novels, the descriptions making you blush and tingle all at once as you imagined what it would be like to experience it. You had experimented on your own, of course, too curious to wait until Hunter had returned home to feel the pleasure the heroines felt in your novels. But nothing you did to yourself felt as good as this.

You clenched your knees around his head and felt your body begin to shudder as the familiar coils of heat began to build in your stomach, but this time more intense than what you’d felt on your own.

“Hunter,” you told him breathlessly, intending to say more but the words felt like they were floating in a mist above you, and every time you tried to grasp them, they alluded you. “I’m–”

You heard him groan under your skirts, voice muffled between your thighs and under the silks. “Let go.”

You felt his tongue flick that nub, his hands on your thighs tightening as he performed one last ministration that caused that pleasure to erupt from you. You cried out, hands clutching the bench so hard you thought there might be indents in the stone as you came apart on his tongue. Your legs shook and your chest heaved as you moaned and whined, head thrown back as Hunter’s tongue lapped at you. You weren’t sure if the stars above you were real, or ones he had made you see.

As the pleasure waned and your body’s aftershocks slowed, you felt Hunter remove your legs from his shoulders and he fumbled with your skirts as he re-emerged. His curls were a mess, and the port wine stain on his cheek was flushed a deep purple from the heat of being under your skirts. He panted, his mouth glistening with your slick, but his eyes were bright, invigorated, like performing cunnilingus on you had energised him. He licked his lips and smiled lovingly at you.

“Amazing,” he told you, his tone awed. “Is that the first time you’ve come?”

You felt heat rise up your neck. “No.”

Hunter’s eyes widened in surprise. “No?”

“Well, I got very tired of waiting for you.” You shrugged innocently despite your face flaming. “I had to take matters into my own hands.”

“Christ,” he said, the words scratching out of his throat roughly. “Are you serious?”

You met his pleading eyes. “Yes.”

Hunter buried his head in your lap and groaned. “I can’t believe I had to stay away so long.”

“Never again.”

“Never again.” He leaned up and kissed you languidly, and you could taste yourself on his lips.

He stayed kneeling on one knee between your legs, your skirts bunched up to your hips as he kissed you, his hands moving up your body back to your breasts. You gasped when his fingers curled around the neckline of your bodice, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast, skin burning.

“Can I take this off?” He tugged on the edge of the neckline. “Please.”

“Yes. Yes, please,” you practically begged him.

You felt his hands go to the ties at the back of your dress, and he deftly tugged them loose as he brought his mouth to yours again. You felt the fabric of your dress loosen before he retreated to pull the dress off from the front, moving it down your arms. You watched as Hunter rumpled the fabric and threw it to the side so it was out of the way.

You were glad the night was warm, now that you were only in your corset over your chemise and stockings. You watched the garment fall to the ground as Hunter let out a growl of frustration.

“Why are there so many layers? I need more of your skin on my mouth,” he grumbled. You giggled as he started to unlace your corset.

“What is it they say? Patience is a virtue?”

“I’ve never been virtuous and I’m not about to start now,” Hunter rasped as he opened your corset, your breasts falling to their natural position under your chemise as they were no longer held up by your stays. You let out a breath of comfort.

Hunter smiled ruefully. “Better? How tight did your maid tie you up?”

“Tighter than usual. I had someone to impress.”

Hunter grinned and kissed your breasts through the thin cotton, your nipples tightening and pointing through the fabric. “I’m always impressed by you.”

You smiled and kissed him once more before pulling away. “It hardly seems fair that I’m almost indecent while you’re basically fully dressed.

Hunter laughed heartily, a sound that made your chest squeeze. He kept smiling at you, still on one knee between your legs as he pulled off his coat, bunching it up and throwing it into a pile with your dress. He pulled off his cravat roughly and started to unbutton his waistcoat when your hands reached out to stop him.

“Let me,” you told him quietly and your fingers brushed his. You started undoing the buttons of his waistcoat, quiet between you. You felt his eyes on you as you unbuttoned and when you looked up to slide the garment off his shoulders, he was gazing at you with this look you couldn’t decipher. Perhaps it was adoration.

You threw the waistcoat on the pile and Hunter was only left in his shirt, breeches and his boots. You smiled as you ran a hand slowly down the neckline of his shirt, your fingers touching his sternum and the nest of dark curly hair there. You remember watching him train in this years ago, and now here you were.

You met his eyes and watched his eyes smile at you, softening at the sides as he started to untuck his shirt and unbutton it, his eyes never leaving your face.

You watched, mesmerised as Hunter shrugged the shirt off and revealed his bare chest. You took in a breath as you realised how muscular and broad he was. The tendons of his shoulders and collarbones were taut and strong, and his stomach flat except for the raised muscles in a six formation. His hair extended across the expanse of his chest and down into his breeches, but what surprised you the most was the port wine stain that appeared on his face also travelled down his torso, painting one side of his chest a beautiful burgundy across his brown skin. You traced your fingers across the outline and watched the way he shivered under your touch, goosebumps erupting across his skin. He was sculpted by the Gods; Michaelangelo had surely modelled the statue of David from him.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathed, fingers trailing down his chest before you met his eyes, a small smile tugging the corners of your lips.

Hunter’s eyes widened for a moment at your declaration before his lips twitched, like they itched to smile. He placed his hands on the sides of your thighs, the thin cotton a poor barrier for the heat of his hands as he rubbed circles into your skin.

“You think so?” he replied quietly, like he didn’t quite believe you.

“Yes,” you told him, your smile turning big. “Heavenly. That’s what you are.”

Hunter studied for face, his expression pensive before he spoke.

“I’ve heard people say this–” his fingers skimmed his face and down his chest, knocking yours, “–is the mark of the devil.”

You frowned. “Who said that?”

“People. When we were children. I…faced ridicule. And in turn, it marked my brothers. It got worse when Crosshair was born, and the stain across his eye became known. We were outcasts already, but this made it worse.”

Your heart broke thinking of Hunter as a child, facing ridicule for something he could not control, for something that made him unique. If he was protective over his family now, you could only imagine back then. What a silly superstition. How could anyone look at Hunter, see how he was with his family and with others, and think he was anything but an angel? No mark upon his face should dictate who he was.

You shook your head and pressed your hand against the centre of his chest, right above his heart. You felt it beat steadily under your palm, the rhythm matching yours. You met his eyes.

“They could not be more wrong,” you told him softly in earnest.

You felt his heartbeat speed up underneath your palm, making you smile. You watched an expression pass through his face. Was it relief? You felt his hands on your thighs squeeze before he captured the hand that lay on his chest between both of his and kissed your palm softly.

“That’s…very nice to hear.” You heard his voice break a little as he spoke, his mouth pulling into a sincere smile that conveyed so much love, you felt you might burst with it.

Hunter leaned in and captured your lips in his once more, this kiss slow and passionate as it told you without words the depth of his feelings for you. You pulled him closer as you deepened the kiss. You let him drape your arms around his neck, and he shifted so his hands grabbed your hips. He pulled away only for a moment, his lips murmuring into yours.

“‘M gonna switch us,” he mumbled. You only nodded, and a laugh rippled from you as Hunter hoisted your body against his. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist as he swiftly switched your places, so he sat on the bench and you straddled his lap. Hunter pulled you in so your centre was pressed against the ties of his breeches. It was a scandalous feeling that flowed through you as felt Hunter’s bulge against you. You gasped as he let out a strangled sound. You pulled back to look at him, a mix of an amused and tortured smile on his face as he looked up at you.

“Oh, I like this position,” you told him.

“Yeah? Me too,” he said and buried his head in your neck, kissing there as he pulled your body against his again, rocking you into the hardness of him through the cotton of your chemise. You moaned, feeling your folds slick again, despite only coming a mere five minutes ago.

“Hunter, I need you,” you told him.

Hunter groaned into your collarbone. “I need you too. I’m out of patience.”

You felt him shift his hold on you, so one hand held you at the small of your back and kept you from sliding off him, and the other quickly untied the fastenings of his breeches and shifted them down slightly. You slid a hand down between you, fingers knocking against his as you felt his cock spring up against his stomach. You gasped when your fingertips brushed his length, the skin hot and hard. He groaned and wrapped his hand around your wrist.

“Please.” His voice practically trembled.

You looked at him and watched the way his eyebrows had slanted down at the ends, his mouth parted. You slowly grazed your fingernails against his length and he jerked underneath you.

“Christ,” he panted.

You wrapped your hand around his length, the way you’d read about, and you heard him groan. Both his hands went to your back, clutching the gaping fabric of your chemise. The way he was reacting only made your stomach tighten and your folds flood with wetness. And you’d barely touched him.

You looked down between you and saw the head of his cock had pooled with precum already. You circled your thumb over the small slit there, coating it and Hunter hissed, head burying in your neck and teeth biting the meat of your shoulder. You moaned, heat running through you. The hilt of his cock was nestled with dark curls and you shifted your hand down and up. Hunter cried out, head falling back as he looked at you, eyes bleary.

“My love, I’m so worked up right now, I will not last if you keep doing that.”

“What?” You feigned innocence. “This?”

You moved your hand again the same way, squeezing a little this time, and Hunter’s eyes screwed shut as he yelped again, shifting your body closer to his. Your centre chaffed against your chemise which rubbed against his cock.

“Christ.” His neck strained before he reached up and smoothed a hand over your hair. “I need to be inside you.”

Nerves and excitement fluttered through you at his words. You had read about such things, of course, and had wanted so badly to experience sex with Hunter, but now being presented with the very situation you had dreamed of happening with Hunter filled you with uncertainty. You wanted this to go right, for him to enjoy himself with you.

“I need that too,” you told him.

“It…It might hurt a little at first,” he said, hand smoothing your hair again. “We’ll go slow. And you tell me to stop and I will.”

You smiled at his concern, his care. “I trust you.”

Hunter smiled at you and pulled you in for a lingering kiss before he pulled away. “Lift up for me, sweet girl.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders and raised yourself on your knees, the stone bench beneath them digging in a little as butterflies swooped in your stomach. Hunter lifted you against him, hands under your thighs as he moved you both to the ground.

“Next time we do this, it will be in a bed,” he told you, his voice light with mild annoyance. You laughed as he lay you back against the pile of clothes you had created, a makeshift mattress out under the stars.

You looked at him as he leaned over you, body in between your legs, dark curls falling over his shoulders and hanging down. The lantern by the bench provided a warm orange glow, but the moon did most of the work, lighting up his hooked nose and gorgeous face. With the stars behind him, you placed his hair behind his ear with a smile, in awe of him.

“What is it?” he asked, mouth lifting into a smile. You felt the lines of his smile stretch under your hand on his cheek.

“I love you,” you told him simply because it explained everything.

He smiled, and you felt his skin heat before he bent to kiss you once more. He kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours before he pulled back. His eyes stayed on you, a soft reassuring expression as he bunched your chemise around your hips, spread your legs so you were completely open to him and positioned himself. Your heartbeat quickened as you felt him at your entrance.

“Are you ready, my love?” he asked, his voice as soft as his eyes.

You let out a shaky breath before nodding and biting your lip.

Hunter nodded and in a hushed voice, told you to try and relax as he slowly pushed in. He moaned, face screwed as he sunk himself inside you, hands tightening on your hips. Despite your slickness, the stretch caused some pain to bolt through you and you hissed, your hands curling around his forearms.

Hunter immediately stopped, eyes flying open as he looked down at you with concern. “Are you okay?”

You nodded and took a breath. “Keep going.”

Hunter watched your expression as he slowly moved further in until he was fully seated inside you. You screwed your eyes shut, fingernails digging into his arms, and you felt one of his hands rub up and down your thighs as you adjusted to the feel of him inside you. It was full feeling, but not overly uncomfortable. The books you’d read glossed over this part.

You felt embarrassed, waiting a moment for your body to be okay to keep going and opened your eyes as you rushed to say, “I’m sorry, I’m just–”

“Hush,” Hunter told you, silencing you gently, his expression soft. “We have all the time in the world.”

You let out a breath before he continued, mouth tipping up at the side. “Though the way you’re squeezing me…”

You grinned, a laugh bubbling out of you. “Good?”

“Incredible,” Hunter sighed.

You both laughed together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Hunter brushed some strands of hair back as he looked down at you and you felt yourself and your anxieties ease. He was so incredibly special.

You shifted underneath him as your body had grown used to him. “I think you can move now.”

“Nice and slow,” he confirmed with you.

Both you and Hunter made sounds of pleasure as he started to rock into you, pulling out a little before moving back in, the movement becoming more fluid and easy as he kept going. Hunter’s grip on your hips guided the movements, and you moaned as the nub of your folds bumped against him.

“Christ, you’re so pretty like this,” he told you as you moved your hips against him to match his thrusts. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

He bent to kiss you once more as he slid inside you again. His hips rolled into yours in easy languid motions, his cock moving in and out of you. You moaned, fingers clawing his back as he began to quicken his movements, thrusts now steady and hard as the pleasure built inside you. You stockinged legs coming up and sliding around his waist, one ankle pushing in at the small of his back to pull him in deeper.

Sex with Hunter was much better than anything you had ever read, better than your own fingers. His thrusts confident yet never painful, his hands firm but never hurting. The sensation of his cock sliding in and out of you was unbelievable, and you were so glad you were able to experience such a thing with him. That he survived the war, and your love for each other had endured. And now, under the stars, he took you in a way that showed all his love for you.

You’d both been patient for this, and he may have said he had never been virtuous, but the way he was making you feel right now felt religious; the feverent way he held you and loved you was almost sacramental, the angel he was.

Hunter’s grip on your hips tightened and you watched the way his need for you eclipsed his features. It was an expression you liked and wanted to see more of. His pupils blown, mouth parted, hair messy. It pleased you to know that you made him like that.

The only sounds that filled the night were both of your moans and groans and the slap of Hunter’s hips against the backs of your thighs. Hunter’s movements increased, as did the husky sound that came from the back of his throat with each one. Hunter’s grip moved to take your hands from his shoulders, pressing them next to your head as he laced your fingers together. Each thrust buried him inside you, the hilt of his cock brushing your nub enough that you felt the heat in you rising, coiling in your stomach. It was intoxicating, and you never wanted him to stop.

“I’m…I’m so close, my love,” Hunter panted, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow in the moonlight.

“As am I,” you told him breathlessly, hands squeezing his.

“Where?” he asked, and you felt him twitch inside you, on the cusp of it.

You were familiar with the question; your novels prepared you for this part. “Inside,” you told him without an ounce of hesitation.

Hunter groaned, his pacing stuttering. “Are you certain? It could–”

“Yes,” you cut him off. “Please. I know the risk and I am unbothered by it.”

Hunter’s face fell into your neck, groan vibrating against your skin, teeth nipping there gently. “Christ,” you heard him mumble. “You’ve ruined me.”

After several deep thrusts that you felt hit the furthest part of your core, he faltered and you heard him cry out as he stilled, and you felt him spill inside you. His hands tightened on yours, palms pressing together they may as well be fused.

You gasped, moaning as he shuddered above you, no longer able to hold his weight fully, he let himself drape his body on top of yours. Warmth pooled between your legs, and you rolled your hips against the hilt of his cock. Hunter hissed at the moment as he caught his breath, lifting his head to look at you with hooded eyes. Hunter stayed seated inside you as he slowly unlaced his hands from yours so he could shift off you slightly and lift himself up enough to slide a hand between your bodies.

“Your turn,” he told you before he slanted an open mouth kiss over your lips as his fingers brushed your nub, making you jerk and gasp into his mouth.

His fingers circled there slowly at first before they increased, rubbing with his fore and middle fingers which were coated in your slick. You felt the pleasure rising rapidly and you barely had time to say anything before you fell over the edge, that pleasure erupting from you as you cried out, mouth open under his and eyes shut. You shuddered and writhed underneath his body as he drew out your orgasm, legs trembling as you squeezed his length still inside you, making him moan into your mouth. The feeling was indescribable, more intense than your previous orgasm had been, and you clutched at his forearm and shoulder, wishing this feeling never came to an end.

You were completely his, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Then his fingers slowed, and your body came down from its peak, limbs feeling like jelly. You opened your eyes to see his brown ones staring back at you, noses knocking as you both smiled, feeling each other lips stretch with your own.

Hunter placed one last kiss on your lips before he pulled back. You laughed lightly, too happy to fully conceal it. You pushed his hair back and bit your lip. Hunter smiled down at you, birthmark flushed, then bent to kiss your cheek.

“So beautiful,” he whispered.

Your face heated as he slowly slid out of you, the loss of him a dull ache as your body readjusted to the empty feeling. Hunter rose to his knees and tucked himself back into his breeches before reaching out to adjust your chemise, hands running down your stockings once he had. He smiled and shook his head at you.

“You should see how you look right now,” he said, a rueful expression painting his face.

Your hands flew to your cheeks, pressing your fingers against the hot skin. “Why?”

“You’re an angel,” he said, fumbling for his cravat to wipe you and his fingers with.

“No, you are,” you told him as the silk fabric slid across your folds.

Hunter laughed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Did I go too hard?”

“You were perfect,” you assured him, the soreness between your thighs a common symptom post-coitus, according to your books.

Hunter lay next to you and propped up on his elbow and you turned a little to face him, smile unable to leave your face. He smiled lovingly at you, and you at him. He opened his mouth when a deep baritone bellowed from somewhere outside the maze.

“Hunter! You better get back here! The Commodore’s looking for his daughter!” Wrecker’s voice carried over the hedges.

You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. Hunter smiled and shook his head.

“We better go,” he said, sitting up then standing and holding a hand out to you.

“How long have we been gone?” You asked, taking his hand. Hunter pulled you up with such strength you fell forward into his arms, pressed against his chest. He caught you easily.

“Long enough,” he said. “Can’t keep him waiting.”

You looked up at him reassuringly when you saw his expression turn thoughtful, hands on his upper ams and circling the skin there with your thumbs. “He will be pleased.”

Hunter smiled at your words and you returned it before pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I’ll need your help to lace me up.”

Hunter’s smile turned into a grin, his teeth white in the moonlight. “I’ll be gentle.”

“You always are,” you told him placing your lips to his one last time before the secret of the two of you would be revealed, and your always with Hunter began.

this is the last part of falling for mr. batchbury, but please let me know if you would like to see more of the batchbury brothers...because these are a delight to write! otherwise, i have more fics coming so stay tuned! thank you for reading and supporting me!

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom @hopelessromantic727 @rebel-ezra @lulalovez

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#larissa writes #hunter x reader #hunter x reader smut #regency au #hunter bad batch smut #hunter bad batch fic #the bad batch hunter fic #regency au fic #the bad batch smut #hunter smut #bad batch smut #tbb hunter #hunter bad batch x reader smut #tbb x reader #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fic au #hunter x reader fic

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apomaro-mellow · 4 months

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Hot for Teacher(s) 3

Part 2 / AO3 Link

After school practices for the Thanksgiving performance was only for the students who wanted to put a little more time into it. Apparently a bulk of the rehearsal happened during their music class and that made sense. Still, Steve was glad to put a face to some of the kids his son mentioned. The first night there had been a girl who's lip trembled at the slightest upset and Steve knew that had to be Yasmin.

"She's a crybaby who cries over everything", Shawn had said one time.

"Hm, need I remind you of all the times you've cried? Why I remember just last week-"

"We don't need to talk about that", Shawn said, properly chastised.

Even so, Steve could see how it could get a little frustrating to be in a class with someone as sensitive as that. And yet, Mr. Munson never let on that he was frustrated or anything like that. Every time the tears came, he talked her down. Which was quite the feat since he had probably been doing it for eight hours at this point.

"You're really good with the kids", Steve complimented when Mr. Munson took a seat near them to rest.

Third grade was working on their performance piece on the stage now while the smaller kids got a break. Mr. Munson smiled a bit as he scratched at his head.

"Yeah, well, patience is key, as I'm sure you know. Actually, how old are the kids you teach?", he asked.

"Middle school", Steve answered, laughing a little when he saw the other teacher's eyes get wide in fear.

"Braver than any marine, I swear. I will take spilt milk tears over the raging hormones going on over there."

Steve's brain decided to highlight the word 'hormones' which made him delayed in his response. He cleared his throat to try and cover it up. "It's not as bad as all that. I've got the babies of middle school, the sixth graders, but don't tell them I said that. And I'm lucky I've got a group there that's absolutely obsessed with science."

He met Mr. Munson's eyes and was met with a million watt smile. One that he knew was on his own face too.

"That's the best feeling, ain't it? When they wanna soak up as much as you can give?"

"The best", Steve agreed. It wasn't always candy and roses but it was all worth it for those days when everything just clicked. "Speaking of passions, did you get that approval for your ideas for the show?"

"They said I could play guitar, but they vetoed my pyrotechnics idea."

That night, Mr. Munson walked him and Shawn back to their car. And as such, became a routine for two days out of the week. Through it all, Steve commended himself for only drooling a little over him and only when he was alone.

At home, one Saturday, Shawn was humming his class' song while Steve made them lunch. He looked to the calendar and realized the show would be that coming Monday. Well, he knew that but it hit him that in less than a week, Thanksgiving break would start and then there wouldn't be much of a reason for him to see Mr. Munson anymore.

Just as the thought came to him, he looked at the school events calendar he had put in his phone and saw that there would be a Winter Dance but that it was for 4th and 5th grade only. He held back a sigh. Oh well, maybe if he got particularly antsy, he could schedule a confere-no, nononono.

He wasn't going to waste a teacher's time over nothing. Just because, what? He wanted to see him?

He said as much when he talked to Robin the next day. They were sitting in his living room, Shawn was up in his room, reading on this lazy Sunday.

"So, you're just going to avoid him?"

"It's not avoiding. I'm just not going to go out of my way to seek him out", Steve clarified. "And maybe this little crush", he whispered the word 'crush' like tiny ears were listening, "will die down."

"Mhm", Robin nodded, unconvinced. "You know they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?"

Steve leaned back against the couch. "There's at least one absence I'm not missing."

"...Don't tell me this is all because of him?"

"It's not because of him but...", Steve's eyes traveled to where Shawn's baby book sat on a bookshelf. Inside were the only pictures of Shawn's sire. And honestly, Steve wouldn't even have those if it were up to him. But he wanted to leave the door open just for when Shawn got older and could decide how much he wanted that man in his life.

"I don't think Mr. Munson is anything like him. Of course I don't. But I can't make a mistake like that again. If Shawn got hurt, I could never forgive myself."

Robin gave him a pat on the leg. "If you really think it's for the best."

It was. Steve knew that what was on the surface could be hiding something ugly underneath. He wasn't going to expose him or his pup to anything like that again. Mr. Munson was nice but these feelings weren't deep enough to swim in. Steve was barely getting his toes wet. He would stay high and dry and then Shawn would go on to second grade and then he would only see Mr. Munson in passing, if that.

Steve had all these affirmations in mind as he settled in to see Shawn's performance Monday. Planning ahead, Steve had told his school a couple weeks ago that he had a doctor appointment and wouldn't be coming in until later. Just long enough to pop in and see Shawn sing. As he had planned and rehearsed, Mr. Munson sat on a stool to one side of the stage, acoustic guitar in his lap.

It was all the school would allow and seeing as the kids' singing voices weren't super strong, it was for the best. Steve recorded the act, phone focused on Shawn while every once in a while, his eyes drifted to Mr. Munson.

After the song, Steve waved to Shawn, who waved back. He had told him ahead of time that he'd have to go back to work after seeing him, so that his son wouldn't be disappointed. When they saw each other at home later, Shawn's adrenaline from the day hadn't waned.

"So a lot of the other kids' parents took them home, so Mr. Munson let some of us play with his guitar!"

"Did he now?", Steve smiled.

"Uh-huh. He even taught us how to play. Do you think he teaches guitar?"

"Would you like some lessons?", Steve asked.

"Only if Mr. Munson is teaching it. He makes everything so cool."

-------------------------

Steve watched as Shawn ran ahead to go into the corn maze. Most of the corn was gone, so he wasn't worried about him getting lost as Robin went to get them hot ciders. Shawn scurried through the maze when he found someone familiar.

Robin had come back with two ciders that she and Steve sipped on while Shawn made his way through the maze.

"Dad! Look who's here!"

Steve looked up, expecting to see one of his little friends. Not Mr. Munson.

Not Mr. Munson in ripped jeans and a leather jacket.

Not Mr. Munson in ripped jeans and a leather jacket with chunky rings and his hair let loose, spilling over his shoulders.

"Dad look! It's Mr. Munson! Dad?"

"Mr. Munson! What a surprise!", Robin came in for the save while Steve was speechless. She gave him a subtle nudge that really wasn't all that subtle but that was okay because Mr. Munson was having his own crisis.

Because here was Mr. Harrington, enjoying a harvest festival, shoulder to shoulder with a beautiful alpha woman.

"H-hey, didn't expect to run into you here", Mr. Munson stuttered.

"Me neither", Steve said, voice a little breathless. He cleared it and remembered himself. "This is Robin, she's my neighbor. Robin, this is Shawn's teacher."

"Heard so much about you", Robin grinned.

Steve wanted to kick her in the shin.

"Hey, Shawn, how's about we go and pick out a pumpkin or something?", Robin suggested, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the other two, leaving them alone.

Mr. Munson looked like a deer caught in headlights and Steve couldn't blame him.

"Jesus, she couldn't be anymore obvious."

"Did you want to talk to me about something, Mr. Harrington?"

"No, I didn't. But, I think...I think we should have this conversation anyway." Steve ran a hand through his hair.

They went to a little sitting area the farm had set up near the food booths so that they could talk. Eddie's mind ran a mile a minute, thinking of what this could be about. Both good and bad. He'd gotten a hot chocolate both to keep his hands warm and to give him something to do with said hands. Hands that Mr. Harrington was staring at right now.

"I um", he shook his head and pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "I just wanted to-god this is hard."

"Well, let's make it easier", Eddie said. "Is it about Shawn? Is he having problems in school?"

"No, it's not about that. It's about us-I mean, there is no us but I-goddammit", Steve hissed, cheeks getting red in embarrassment. He let out a breath. "Mr. Munson, I'm having..." don't say feelings don't say feelings don't say feelings "-sensations, that aren't entirely professional. About you."

"Oh."

"And I know nothing can come of it, but I just want you to know that, to know that I'm aware of them and if I ever come on, I guess too strong, please just let me know."

"Um, for how long?", Eddie asked, hoping he wasn't vibrating in his seat because it sure did feel that way.

"Uhh, pretty much since I first met you", Mr. Harrington admitted. "And I don't know if it's because you've been looking after me and Shawn when we walk back to the car, or if it's something else but you just smell...you feel safe. And it's hard for me not too....", he trailed off, voice getting soft.

He didn't know how much that meant to Eddie. His first year of teaching, Eddie had gone on scent blockers, not wanting to overwhelm the little noses in his room. But one day he'd forgotten and things just seemed to run more smoothly when they could get a whiff of him. For Mr. Harrington to say his scent made him feel safe...

"It hasn't exactly been easy for me either", Eddie finally said. "Me too, since that first day I... But you already said nothing can come from it."

There was a hesitant look in Mr. Harrington's eyes. "Well, you know, why not?"

"Why...not?", Eddie echoed.

"I have my personal reasons for not pursuing this, but they mostly involve Shawn. If he doesn't know about it, I mean if we can hide it from most people, you won't get in trouble with the school. And we won't, you know get Shawn's hopes up if it doesn't become serious."

"Why, Mr. Harrington, are you propositioning me?" Honestly, Eddie didn't give a flying fuck what this principal thought about his private life. At the end of the day, it really was just Shawn he was worried about. He didn't know what happened to the other half of his DNA, but he knew that kids with only one parent sometimes longed for a second. He couldn't make Shawn think that was him unless this was the real deal. And he wouldn't know that for sure if he didn't give this a try.

"For starters, when we're not on school grounds, you can call me Steve."

"Eddie."

"Eddie, would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Steve's face was a mix of hopeful and confident that Eddie wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon. "I'd love to."

Part 4

There is absolutely some angst with Steve's baby daddy comin down the line. I came up with it where I come up with all my best ideas, half asleep when I wake up in the morning.

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#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

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tokkias · 1 month

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one more midnight without you ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they say. Natsu learns this lesson the hard way as he learns the what it truly means to yearn. ao3

Natsu’s pack lands with a thud on the familiar spot by the door of Lucy’s apartment. Happy’s little feet pad across the wooden floor as he makes his way to the bed in the place they’ve called home for the past month. It’s not technically their home—not legally anyway—it’s still Lucy’s apartment; her name is on the lease, and she still pays most of the rent, but Natsu and Happy are holding down the fort, as it were.

It's been a Lucy-less past few months, and while she’s never more than a phone call away, it doesn’t make the distance nor the ache in his heart easier.

She’s been living in Crocus for three months now as part of a book deal. A full-time salary for writing her next novel, but in exchange, she would be living in Crocus for the time it took her to finish and edit her manuscript. She had been apprehensive about it at first. Sure, authorship had always been a dream of hers, but her work as a guild wizard had always taken precedence over it. As much as she didn’t want to step away from the guild for that long, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and any apprehension she may have had was washed away with Natsu’s wholehearted support. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t still miss her.

He falls down onto her bed with a huff and takes in the comforting scent of Lucy that still lingers in the sheets. It’s not quite as there as it used to be, but she’s lived in this place long enough that not even a few months away gets in the way of how her scent permeates the room. It brings him comfort on days where it’s a little harder than usual. It reminds him that she’s not that far away and that she’ll be coming home soon.

As if she senses his unrest, his Lacrima phone buzzes in his pocket, and through the shattered screen, he can see her name.

Lucy Made really good progress with my manuscript today! I wrote uninterrupted for three whole hours, and then I’m meeting with my editor tomorrow! I feel like I’m really getting somewhere with this novel Crocus is nice, but I really do miss Magnolia a lot How are things at the guild?

Natsu they r ok. happy n i just got back from a job. went to a cafe where they had ur dumb coconut milk. made me think of you. lets go there when u get back.

His thumbs linger over the keyboard for just a moment longer as he contemplates if he should say something else, and before he can think to hold himself back, he’s hitting send.

Natsu miss you loads.

It seems like a given that he misses her, but for some reason, it feels weird to send it, like he’s overstepping some sort of unspoken boundary. It’s felt a lot like that lately. There’s this weird feeling lingering between them. He can’t call it tension—it’s not tension—but it’s something different. It was there before she left, but she was already on a train to Crocus before they could ever get a word in about it. It’s this feeling that makes his heart squeeze tighter in his chest in a way that only Lucy can, and when he reads her reply, he feels it all over again.

Lucy I miss you too

Even as communication Lacrima’s grew more and more popular in Fiore, Natsu had never seen a reason to need one until he was faced with distance from Lucy. He’d always been the nomadic sort, going where he wants to, when he wants to, with not much thought as to who he should let know, but now he doesn’t know how he’d ever go without his silly little late-night texts with Lucy. He’s been without her before for so much longer, but ever since having her back by his side, any distance between them is unbearable. It’s the small glimpses into her temporary life in Crocus through texts and calls that get him through the harder days where it feels like there’s a hole in his chest and only Lucy can fill that void for him.

He'd never expected it to be this hard being away from her, given they’ve done distance before under much less forgiving circumstances. It’s that weird feeling that does it to him, that makes him feel physically ill when he thinks about how her scent has begun to wane from the sheets with each day she spends away. It makes his heart squeeze in his chest. It’s not always a bad feeling. Sometimes, when his phone lights up and he sees her name on the screen, or on the chance where he gets to hear her voice on the other end, it’s a good feeling—it makes him feel like he can take on the world. On other days, when he sinks into the mattress with no one but Happy at his feet for company, the tightness is more than he can bear, and he wonders how much longer he can take it. Still, he perseveres because they’ve been through so much worse, and he’s not going to let a little distance between them be the thing that breaks him.

Lucy Making dinner now. Want to call while I cook?

It’s a rhetorical question that she already knows the answer to. He’s never given up the chance to hear her voice before, and he’s not about to now, but she always makes sure to ask before initiating call. He hits the answer button before it can even ring once, and he knows that, at least for now, his worries will be washed away by the sound of her sweet voice, and he can pretend that she’s with him, if only for a moment.

On the wall next to Lucy’s desk in her Magnolia apartment hangs a calendar, with each month represented by a new blooming flower. It hasn’t gotten much use since she left, given that Natsu doesn’t have any use for it. Or at least, he didn’t until he got the news.

As her manuscript neared completion, Lucy found that she had a tentative date for her return, and Natsu had made sure to mark it in big, bold letters on the calendar. Each day since then has been marked off with a bright red cross in eager anticipation of her return.

The sun setting over the Magnolia horizon cast golden orange shades of light across her desk, where the marker sat, and Happy clambered onto it and peered at the calendar.

“Can I mark it off?” Happy asked, gripping at the pen cap, barely holding his excitement back.

Natsu’s gaze flicked from the view of the orange creamsicle skies over to his buddy. It was routine by now. Natsu was the one who started it, but Happy was helping him carry it on. He isn’t the only one who misses her.

“Sure thing, buddy,” he replies.

With a grin, Happy scrawls a large cross over today’s date. He’s not terribly dextrous, given that he is a cat, so it comes out a little wobbly, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that they’re one day closer to being with Lucy again, and it makes his heart do backflips in his chest.

The way the early evening sunlight hits the room makes him miss her even more.

It’s nostalgic in a way. He can hear so clearly in his mind the way she would swoon about it, how pretty it was, how it gave warmth to the room, both literally and figuratively. She would say that it inspired her and spend the rest of the evening at her desk, quill scratching away at the paper late until the night, until she nods off at her desk and he has to carry her to bed.

He wonders who’s carrying her to bed when she does the same thing now.

She’s alone in her temporary Crocus apartment—a fact that she has lamented to him many times before. She gets lonely some nights. He assumes those are the nights she calls him with the excuse that she just needs to hear his voice, and they stay on the phone until late into the night. Tonight, much to his dismay, is not going to be one of those nights. He knows that because she made a point of telling him that she’s going to spend the evening writing and that she can’t chat much because he’s “too much of a distraction." It’s much harder to annoy her into surrender over text than it is in person he discovers, when she turns her phone off. That doesn’t stop him from sending her one more text for the night.

Natsu try not to fall asleep at ur desk tonite

When he sees the little bubble pop up on her side of the screen, he knows she’s caved in early tonight.

Lucy I won’t! Promise!

They both know it’s a lie, but he humours her anyway.

A breeze passes by through the open field that Natsu and Happy have decided to set up camp in. To another, it would provide a soft chill, but to Natsu, it’s nothing but a soft tickle from the wind. He waits to hear Lucy’s complaints about the weather, but they never come.

Right.

No matter how long it’s been, he still isn’t quite used to not having her with him. It’s not like the year he spent on his own. He’s still at the guild, he’s still taking jobs, he’s seeing the familiar faces that he and Lucy have passed by so many times. Lucy is the only thing that’s missing.

Based on her own estimates, she’s past the half-way mark and will be home soon enough, but every day feels like it passes by slower than the last.

He tries to make himself comfortable in his sleeping bag, but even with Happy by his side, he’s acutely aware of the empty space next to him. The tent feels empty without his snuggle buddy. They only really have the tent for Lucy’s comfort, so now that she’s not here, he supposes it can’t hurt to spend a night under the stars. Happy is fast asleep and doesn’t so much as stir when he unzips the tent door and settles himself out on the grass. He feels connected to her somehow, knowing that somewhere out there, Lucy is looking at the same stars he is.

If he squints, he thinks he can make out some of the constellations that Lucy has pointed out to him on nights not dissimilar to this. He thinks he spots Orion, his belt glowing among the black backdrop of the sky behind him. He’s never paid much attention when Lucy points out the constellations to him, happy to let her talk away and just listen to her voice, but as he puts the stars together like pieces of a puzzle in the night sky, he realises he knows more than he thought he would. There are still blanks in his mind, things he can’t quite remember, and constellations he can’t quite place, and he wants to roll over and ask her to tell him what it is he's missing, but he can’t.

He reaches his hand out to the sky, his palm facing up at the stars, before he closes his hand in a fist, as if he were grabbing the stars themselves to put in his pocket and bring to Lucy. He supposes she already has enough stars in her pocket, so he doesn’t feel too terrible when they don’t land in his hand like little pieces of konpeito.

Failing that, he rummages around in his pack for his phone before snapping a picture of the sky above him. It’s a little blurry, taken with shaky hands through the small crack in his camera lens, but it doesn’t stop him from sending it to Lucy in hopes that she’ll find some sort of joy in it.

Natsu reminded me of you.

He doesn’t know if it’s too mushy or not mushy enough, but he doesn’t have much longer to dwell on it before he feels a wave of sleepiness overcome his body, and before long he is asleep under the stars that Lucy loves so much.

“—and then he said that he didn’t think my shoes matched my dress!”

Lucy’s voice rings out over the speaker of Natsu’s phone as he lays sprawled across her bed.

“Can you believe that? The absolute audacity of him,” she continues. “I swear I’m never going to a club in Crocus again. Those men wouldn’t know a gorgeous woman if one kicked them in the face.”

“Uh-huh,” Natsu drawls, his gaze fixated on the ceiling.

“Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, I’m listenin’,” he affirms. “You said somethin’ about some guy at a club tellin’ you your dress and your shoes don’t go together.”

“Oh,” she replies. “You really were listening.”

“‘Course I was. I only get to hear you yappin’ so much these days, so I gotta make sure I’m gettin’ all of it.”

“I do not yap!”

Her reaction elicits a cackle from him. He doesn’t mean it as a bad thing, but it’s always a bonus getting to rile Lucy up like this, so he takes the moment for what it's worth as she pouts on the other end of the line. He’s missed this.

“Tell me why I even bother,” she grumbles.

“‘Cause you love me,” he replies, the words slipping out before he even gets a chance to think much about what he’s saying.

Any other time, he’d maybe not have even thought twice about it, but with the weird air that’s been lingering between them since she left, it feels like a tender topic. Of course she loves him; he knows that without a doubt, but when he says it, it feels like there’s something underlying the word that means more than he initially lets on. But it’s too late to take it back now.

Quiet falls across the room for a moment before Lucy finally speaks up again.

“Yeah,” she breathes, her voice hardly more than a whisper over the call. “I do.”

Neither seems to know what to say after that, so she clears her throat slightly as if to ease the tension.

“I’m excited to come home,” she says.

“Soon?” He replies, hopefully.

“I really hope so.”

Happy stirs slightly in his spot at the foot of the bed. Even in the dark, his bright blue fur contrasts against the soft pink of Lucy’s comforter. Natsu can’t remember the last time they’ve stayed the night at his own place, but for some reason, at the end of the day, when he’s leaving the guild, it’s Lucy’s apartment that his feet take him to. Maybe it’s because he’s expecting her to be waiting there for him when he gets there, that when he puts his key in the door, it’ll already be unlocked and she’ll already be cozied up on her couch with a book that has taken her day away from her. She never is, as he has come to realise, but it doesn’t ever stop him from hoping.

Lucy’s bed is comfier and warmer than his own—a fact that both he and Happy seem to agree on—and it smells like her, so it feels like consolation for not having seen her in so long. She knows he’s been sleeping here, and she pretends to lament it, telling him that she’ll kick him out as soon as she gets back, but they both know it’s an empty threat. Even before she left, he had been spending more time at her apartment than he had before, an impressive feat given his history. She’s not as adamant on him leaving at the end of the night as she used to be, and so sometimes he wakes up to the sound of the bustling Magnolia morning instead of the sounds of the forest.

It's nice getting to sleep in her bed, but it’s not as good as getting to have her there.

Tonight is one of those nights where sleep just doesn’t come as quickly as he would like it to. He envies the comfortable snores Happy lets out at the end of the bed and wishes that were him instead. He knows that envy will get him nowhere, so instead he is left alone with his thoughts and the dark ceiling above him.

He wants to talk to Lucy until late in the night, like they do sometimes when they’re out in the woods. He wants her to take him out to see the stars, like she does on sleepless nights. But she’s not here, so he’s left with the cheap imitation of flecks of dust that occasionally pass him by. In his frustration, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will himself to sleep.

His attempt works, but only for so long before he hears his phone begin to ring.

He grumbles as he rolls over. Part of the reason he never wanted a phone before Lucy left was because he didn’t want to be reached at all hours. If it were up to him, he would have Lucy’s number in there and nothing else, and he would ignore whatever call was coming through. No one should be reasonably calling him at this hour, but he’s not looking to get his ass beat by Erza if, for some reason, she’s calling him for an emergency.

He blindly fumbles around searching for his phone on Lucy’s bedside table for a few moments before he grabs his phone, yanking it from the charging cord and looking at the incoming call.

On his screen is Lucy’s contact picture. It’s ugly, and it’s unflattering, and it’s his favourite photo of her ever.

He blinks in confusion for a moment before checking the time. It’s almost three in the morning, and even though Lucy is prone to a late night or two, it’s never this late. In his current hazy state, he can’t come up with a reasonable excuse for why she would be calling him this late. Instead of wondering, he simply answers the phone.

“Hey,” he croaks out.

“Hi,” she replies, her voice soft and meek, even a little bashful. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” he lies.

Even if she did, he doesn’t care about that. He’d rather talk to her than sleep, and he knows that if she’s calling him this late at night, it’s probably important.

It falls quiet between them, as though she’s thinking through what to say, as though there’s no real reason for her to be calling him this late. He doesn’t speak up in that quiet period. He wants to let her start, wants to hear her voice.

“I miss you,” she finally says.

“Yeah, I miss you too,” he replies, honest and wholeheartedly. “Is that why you called?”

“Sort of,” she murmurs.

It falls quiet for a few moments before she finally speaks up again.

“I’m coming home.”

He doesn’t know if he’s heard her right at first. He doesn’t know if this is just a dream or if his mind is playing tricks on him. By her last estimations, she’s still got another month and a half to go, so the news truly shakes him.

“What?”

It’s not a graceful or perhaps appropriate reply, but he’s so out of it and unsure if any of this is even real that he can’t hold it back.

“I’m taking the next train back to Magnolia,” she tells him, and it all still feels like a dream. “Getting to write this novel is a dream of mine, but...” She pauses as her voice cracks slightly. “I just miss you too much.”

He can hear the way her voice wavers slightly as she speaks, as though she’s holding back tears, and the sound of it is enough to elicit some of his own. He knew he missed him, missed the guild, missed Magnolia—she had said as much, but he never realised she missed it that much. She had always seemed so strong-willed about it, that she was persevering through it to see one more dream of hers fulfilled, but now here she is, in tears on the other end of the phone, telling him she’s on her way home.

He wishes she’d told him earlier. If she had, maybe he’d have been the one to cave first, to endure the torment of the train ride over to be with her. He’d miss Magnolia too, but gods if it wouldn’t have been worth it to be with her. She had seemed so strong, even in the moments she confided in missing home. She was happy, and she was independent, if only for a little bit. He hadn’t wanted to be overbearing, to overstep just because he wanted to be with her all the time, to the point where it caused him near physical pain when they were apart. With everything that had been going on between them, with the weird and uncertain air that lingered between them, he had thought maybe it was for the better that they spent that time apart to sort themselves out, but if anything, it has only caused whatever feelings he’s been harbouring towards Lucy to bubble up even closer to the surface.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they say, and Natsu couldn’t think it more true than right now.

“Are you kiddin’?” He asks, still unsure if he’s dreaming or not.

“No, I’m not,” she replies. “I’m at the station now. I’m boarding soon.”

If he hadn’t been awake before, he certainly is now because he feels himself practically vibrating with excitement.

He gets to see his Lucy again.

“I just wanted to call to see if you wanted to meet me at the station.”

There’s no real reason for her to be asking that. The train station isn’t too far from her apartment, and it’s not like him meeting her there would speed up the process of getting her home. Maybe she just needed him to be her pack mule, to carry all of her bags from the station back to her apartment, but it wasn’t exactly like she had packed up her entire life and taken it with her to Crocus. Most of her stuff was still back in Magnolia with him; she had taken two, maybe three, suitcases with her when she left, which he knew she could reasonably get back with her. But it doesn’t matter why she’s asking because the reason is a resounding yes, no doubt about it. He wants to see her so badly that his heart aches and races so fast in his chest that he thinks it might just jump out of his throat.

The excitement is so palpable that he arrives at the station almost an hour before she’s due to arrive. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep after she hung up the phone, and how could he? He’d woken Happy, something the poor exceed had lamented at first, but his tune was quickly changed when he found out why. This is probably the first and only time he has ever been early to the train station, but he feels like today is worth it, that this is the exception.

He’s been pacing the station the entire time he’s been there, unsure how to keep himself occupied while he waits. He’s never been a patient person, and his mind is running a million miles a second, and you can see it on his face because he’s excited, but he’s also terrified. At the very least, Happy is holding himself together and is able to calm him down with the rationale that it’s just Lucy.

It's just Lucy, and nothing has changed since the last time he saw her. It’s just Lucy, and they’ve done this before.

This will not be the first time he’s seen her after a long time apart, and he wasn’t nervous then, so why the hell is he nervous now? Or maybe it isn’t nerves. Maybe it’s excitement, but generally he doesn’t ever get excited to the point he feels like he might throw up. Everything about this feeling is weird, and so he needs Lucy to arrive right now because he feels like the only thing that will cure him is to have her in his arms.

He wrings his fingers to keep himself occupied while he waits for Lucy’s arrival. His head shoots up at every train that arrives in the hopes that it’s hers, but the first few times it’s not. He doesn’t give up, however, and is rewarded when it finally is her.

She doesn’t spot him right away, but when she does, when her gaze meets his, he is rewarded for his patience with the soft sparkle of her warm, loving eyes that seem to soften the moment she sees him. He thinks he sees the glimmer of tears in her eyes for a moment, but he doesn’t get much time to look before she’s running towards him.

His reflexes kick in fast, and he catches her when she launches herself at him with enough force to send him stumbling backwards, just a little. There are no verbal greetings because there is no need for one. Everything that needs to be said is being told through her arms around him, warm, tight, and secure. He sobs a little bit into her shoulder because he’s just so damn happy to see her that he doesn’t even care that it’s embarrassing to cry like this. It makes him feel just a little bit better that he can smell the salty tears on her cheeks too.

They stand like that for perhaps a few moments more than necessary, but he doesn’t ever want to stop holding her like this.

“You can let go now,” she mumbles into his chest, but based on the way she doesn’t pull away,.

Her words only make him hold on tighter.

“Just one more minute,” he replies, his voice muffled against her soft, silken hair.

In that moment, there is no one and nothing but them, and all the worry, all the weirdness dissipates in an instant. They can worry about whatever might linger in the in-between later, but for now, he just wants to revel in her touch, in her heat, in her love. It’s all he’s ever wanted these past few months, and he’s going to take this moment for all it’s worth.

They both know it will be more than just one minute, and Lucy does not protest.

#nalu #natsu x lucy #fan fiction #nalu fanfiction #mya writes things

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