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highvern · 4 months

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Burnt Coffee

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x gn! Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Running a cafe hadn’t been as glamorous as you initially believed. You loved your job; the cozy aroma of the different roasts, the hum of the espresso machine, the foam art you tediously practiced until a cute bear face stared back from the surface of a cappuccino. But any new shop comes with quirks, like the fire alarm that goes off almost every morning. Luckily, the fire station is just across the street and you unknowingly have one of the fireman wrapped around your finger.

Warnings: coffee shop owner reader, firefighter Hoshi, pockets of angst, crying, lots of mentions of food and coffee, firefighter jihoon and his baker gf, crying, kissing

Length: ~4.6k

Note: second valentine's fic! surprise! written for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub. Happy Valentine's @idyllic-ghost / @bee-buzzez !!! i hope its the cafe au of your dreams

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“I’ve got an iced dirty chai with oat milk at the end of the bar!”

A sour-faced woman scoffs, “That isn’t what I ordered.”

“Well, is your name Samantha?”

“No.”

“Then it isn’t your order.”

The exchange between Seungkwan and the woman rings familiar. Sundays bring out the best in everyone it seems. But you're too busy handling the never ending line of drink tickets to scold him for poor customer service. Focusing on the machine, you pull shot after shot; inadvertently covering yourself in errant splashes of milk and coffee. The rush of the morning is still going strong but you hone into the rhythm and let your mind fall away from anything beyond the cups resting atop the counter next to you.

But as always, the steam from the milk frother continues to heat the space above; right where the over sensitive fire alarm was installed.

The shrill blaring freezes everyone in place. A few children scream in shock, making the vein on your temple throb. Your ears ring with each pulse as your head falls into your hands.

Every single morning since you opened Fika two months ago the alarm went off without fail.

And then he would show up like clockwork.

The bell attached to the wooden door chimes as Soonyoung breaks through the threshold of the cafe. Grimaced faces greet him. The shrill fire alarm with flash lights blares into the industrial space, bouncing off the walls to echo inanely.

“Earlier than usual.” Soonyoung chirps as he saunters past the line, easily rounding the bar to access the screeching piece of junk inconveniently placed above the espresso machine.

You step out of the way, face flat and mouth tense. “Busy day.” You explain.

The alarm cuts off as swift as it started, Soonyoung stepping back to smile down at you.

“I can hang around in case. Seems like that line isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want something to drink?” You offer stepping back to the line of cups littering the metal counter.

“Ooo, buying me drinks already? Aren’t you presumptuous?”

The wiggle of his eyebrows is meant to be suggestive but they only make him look like he ate a mouthful of sour candy.

“Nevermind.” You huff, stepping around the man as you grab the next cup in line and start working. “Go save a cat in a tree or something.”

Sensing your waning mood, Soonyoung cuts the act. “I’ll just have my regular.”

“You know where the cups are.”

A full cup of brewed coffee joins him on the opposite side of the counter. Soonyoung plants himself in his usual chair, chin resting on his curled fist as he watches you work your magic.

On slow days he’ll chat your ear off until the fire station calls him back. But on days like today, he’s content to in silence; obsessed with the sureness of your hands, the strong pout of your lips, and the way everything seems pulled into your gravity.

Maybe he has a crush on you.

Scratch that; Soonyoung definitely has a crush on you.

And everyone knows. His supervisor, Jihoon, knows. It’s why Soonyoung is always the one to come and fix the faulty alarm in the shop. His best friend, Seokmin, knows. It’s why Seokmin and his fiancee constantly batter him with texts about when he’ll ask you on a date. If someone went to space and looked down they could see how much he likes you without even trying.

You hit a lull and Soonyoung takes his chance. “Got any special plans this week?”

“We’re doing themed baked goods on Wednesday.” You call over your shoulder.

It’s not what Soonyoung was asking about but he takes it in stride.

Your employees also know about the fireman’s feelings. It’s why Seungkwan throws a pitying look his way along with a deformed muffin. Subtle rejection tastes like blueberries and brown sugar.

“Will you save me one?” Soonyoung asks.

“Is free coffee not enough?”

“Who said I wouldn’t pay for it?”

You never let Soonyoung pay for anything at the cafe. Despite how much he enjoys free food, it always makes him feel a bit guilty. It’s why you think he only drinks black coffee with a lethal amount of sugar when in reality he’d take some fancy espresso drink any day.

You laugh as you continue to work through the next batch of orders. “We’ll see if there are any left.”

“I’m a civil servant!”

“Serve in silence please!” Seungkwan barks, earning a few chuckles from the other customers sitting at the bar.

The back and forth continues and eventually the line dwindles to nothing as the morning lulls on. Soonyoung downs two more cups and manages to haggle Seungkwan for an overly toasted slice of banana bread with a singed corner he planned to throw out anyway.

The entire time Soonyoung watches you. Even covered in splashes of milk and coffee stains, he’s still enamored with you as you lean over the bar and jot notes in the ever expanding list of repairs and updates the shop needs.

And just when Soonyoung opens his mouth to say something, anything, the shrill beep of his phone cuts him off.

“Damn, I gotta head back.” He curses. “Just call if you need me again, okay?”

“Will do.”

You don’t even look up as he walks towards the door.

“Satan is one the phone for you.”

“Please be less specific.” You beg Seungkwan, grabbing the receiver still on hold.

“Bakery lady.”

Steeling yourself, you unmute the phone and bring it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“I was reviewing orders for Valentine’s. You're only doing the usual? I thought we talked about special items. I already bought the ingredients so if you changed your mind it’s putting me out of money.”

“No, we need at least two dozen of the cupcakes and two dozen of the cookies on top of our usual order.”

“That’s not what the order form says!” The old crone hawks through the line.

You ask her for a moment while pulling out your laptop and settling into a seat far away from the clusters of customers still strung throughout the cafe.

Wiping your face, you stare at the illuminated screen of your computer with the order form pulled up. “I have the form on my screen right now and it clearly says—”

“I don’t care what you’re looking at, it’s not what I have on my end!”

“Are you sure you’re looking at the form for Fika on Second street?”

“I’m telling you I’m—oh.”

The deflation in her tone pulls a smirk across your lips. “Hm?”

“Alright so two dozen red velvet cupcakes and two dozen heart sugar cookies?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, I’ll have it on Wednesday.”

“Thanks.”

Click.

The table shakes with the impact of your forehead. The clatter of your mug draws attention from the few customers around but none pay much attention.

“Everything okay?” A voice asks from above.

“Great. Wonderful.” You say into the wood.

“Good. Because the espresso machine is broken…again.”

You rise from your seat, face indecipherable as you walk past the counter, through the back storage area and into the alley behind the building.

Several seconds pass before you release a guttural scream. It's gritty, ripping apart your throat as all bubbling exhaustion breaches your lips. The noise echos between the brick walls before escaping to the sky above. Several pigeons flee to the rooftops for safety while mice and other vermin scuffle along the walls in terror.

Seungkwan watches from the door, eyes wide as you continue to belt for the trash bags and city rats witnessing your meltdown.

Your voice fizzles as you run out of air. Closing your eyes, you take two deep breaths. Inhaling the scent of stale storm water and whatever else perfumes the back alley until the stretch of your lungs burns from the inside out.

And then you turn and walk back inside as if the entire thing never happened.

The block is only illuminated by streetlights at this hour. Not even the earliest of early birds litter the narrow sidewalk as you push into the empty cafe and begin prepping for the Monday morning rush. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air, the whir of the grinder harmonizing with the jazz playlist curling down from the speakers.

The calm before the storm.

Slowly the first shift employees trickle in just before opening; relieving you to commandeer the office slash storage room in the back, intent on knocking out the mountain of paperwork and following up with the repair man about the alarm he said he would be back to fix last week. But first, the phone blinking with unread messages.

“This is Megan. We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warr—”

Message deleted.

The next message is a young man reporting his credit card missing and visiting your shop. You call and let his voicemail know no one has seen anything but you hope he figures it out.

“Hi Y/N. This is Cheryl with Harmony Bakers. Just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to get that special order for Valentine’s Day. Or your regular order for tomorrow. We’ve decided to close up shop. Sorry about the inconvenience.”

The words don’t hit at first. But your brain slowly catches up to what Cheryl is saying. Canceling. She’s canceling two days before Valentine’s.

Your attempts to return her call fall flat. Six tries and all ring once before dropping into an automated message reporting her voicemail is full, no doubt from the other shops she’s also shafted with the impulsive decision.

No holiday treats. No regular food items. No back up. No plan B.

Failure, failure, failu—

The pad of paper littered with notes sails into the not so far wall only to slap against the plaster and slip to the ground.

You can only focus on one problem at a time. Or at least the problem whose solution won’t send you to jail. And that means heading to the front where the day is starting to pick up.

The boys have things under control but the line is lengthening and you’re a great way to relieve the pressure. Immediately an invisible song pulls you into the rhythm of their work; drinks and food hit the end of the bar almost as fast as the orders came in.

Soonyoung comes in and waits at the counter as usual. The alarm seems to be granting mercy given the horrible state of affairs from this morning.

The customers not so much.

“God, how stupid are you that you messed up a simple order? It’s a fucking americano and you made it taste like ass.”

The man standing at the end of the bar, hands flat on the counter in an attempt to physically dominate the space, always complains. His iced drinks are too cold, his hot drinks are too hot, the weather is bad, taxes are too high, the list continues on and on. And somehow it's always your fault.

Usually its little barbs under his breath but today he’s out for blood and you’ve already had enough.

Your teeth grit together so hard it feels like the forced smile plastered on your face might crack them into dusk. “Like I said, I can remake it for you if you’d lik—”

“Why would I want you to remake it? You clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Get someone else.”

“I got it.” Seungcheol steps forward.

The older man gives him an apprehensive look. Seungcheol is harmless but he knows how to be scary when he wants to be.

“I’m gonna go…restock something…” you warble, all but sprinting to the back.

Plastic sleeves of cups and boxes of straws bear witness to your breakdown. The six am tantrum clouds in and your carefully built dam of control explodes. Hot tears streak your cheeks, dripping off the jut of your chin with every gasping breath from the knot in your throat tangling tighter and tighter. All you can hear are ugly gasping breaths as you rock back and forth in the dark.

The sliver of light spilling in from the cracked door doesn’t register given the way your face is buried in your hands. Soonyoung has half a mind to pretend he never entered the cramped space. He’s never seen you so… small.

A shrill squeak of the hinge alert you to the new presence. Bloodshot eyes find his wide ones and you swipe at your face to hide the evidence of your distress. You go to speak but barely manage a croak before the tears come again.

“Shit,” Soonyoung whispers. “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

The warmth of his chest makes you cry harder, tears spilling onto his neck as you hide from the world. He smooths the flat of his palm across your back.

It's anyone’s guess how long you stay there. Soonyoung’s cheek rests on the top of your head, arms firm around your shoulders. The faint smell of smoke tickles your nose. Smoke and pine from his cologne. It tethers your mind, lulling the frantic breakdown and giving you something to focus on other than how horrible the day has become in the span of a few hours.

No baked goods. Horrible customers. And now you’re being held by the handsome fighter from next door with snot dripping from your nose.

Soonyoung hesitates when you shift in his hold, arms tightening for a second in case another bout of tears crops up. But you pull far enough away to send an embarrassed grimace his way before looking anywhere else.

“Sorry.” You say, turning to snatch napkins from the shelf next to you.

His hand continues to rub your shoulders as you dab your eyes and blow your nose.

“It’s okay. That guy was a jerk.”

“I don’t care what he said.”

Soonyoung stares in disbelief, waiting for you to continue.

“My baker canceled on me, and the espresso machine is held together with duct tape, and there's a million other things going wrong, not to mention the fire alarm. And I just…”

Squeezing your eyes tight to prevent the moisture swelling in the corners proves unhelpful. To Soonyoung’s credit he stays silent, allowing you all the time you need to get your thoughts in order. But the hand on your back continuing to trace abstract shapes between your shoulder blades lets you know he’s there when you’re ready.

“It’s just been a rough week.” You say to the floor.

The admission lifts the ten pound weight off your chest. Soonyoung isn’t an employee you need to guarantee everything is okay to or a customer requiring a mask. He’s a…friend? It feels generous but if he was anything less you doubt he’d be where he is now.

“Is there any way I can help?”

You blow your nose into the tissue before laughing wetly. “I don’t suppose you have a magic wand, do you?”

“Just broke mine actually.” He winces sarcastically.

What’s another thing on your never ending to-do list? Along with the desperate need to buy more supplies for tomorrow, how difficult can it be to conjure artisan baked goods out of thin air?

“Actually,” Soonyoung perks. “Jihoon’s girlfriend works at a bakery. Pete’s? No, wait. Penny’s?”

“Petunia’s?”

“That’s the one! Maybe I can ask her if she can help?”

“Good luck.” You snort. “They couldn’t even fit me into their normal rotation.”

“We won’t know until we ask!” He chips, thrilled he can help.

Soonyoung jumps up, a cruel chill invading the space he once occupied. Like the sun moving behind a cloud and leaving you at the mercy of a cool breeze; there and gone before you can delve into what it means.

You hand him the order form you usually give your baker to relay to Jihoon’s girlfriend. While he steps out to ask for a miracle you focus on tallying how many cups, napkins, lids, and other miscellaneous items you need from the supply store across town. A few lone tears appear, falling without much preamble but the worst is out and stained on Soonyoung’s shoulder. You’ll get through it. With Soonyoung’s help you’ll get past everything, even if his efforts fall flat.

Seungcheol and Seungkwan confirm they’ve got things under control as you take your leave. Soonyoung is just visible in the dissipating morning fog hanging in the street. He paces the sidewalk, speaking into his phone animatedly before spotting you trying to sneak past him to your car.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” He cheers before hanging up and pocketing his phone.

“So?”

“They’ll do it! One of the other shops dropped out last minute and they have a lot of extras. Maybe not all the usual stuff but Rita said she can pull together most of the stuff on the form.”

Body frozen, you stare at Soonyoung with an open mouth and eyes wide. There’s no way he solved half your workload with one phone call.

“She also said they can try and work you into their usual orders. If that’s something you’re interested in…” Soonyoung trails off, glancing at you nervously.

In a blink your back in his arms, squeezing him so hard your arms hurt.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You chant into his chest.

“Of course.”

Stepping back, you blush at your own impulsiveness.

“Um, well…” you fumble, clearing your throat you get back to the task at hand. “I need to run to the store so I’ll see you later.”

“I can come!”

“No! I mean, you’ve already helped so much. I’d feel bad dragging you along.”

“Don’t worry about me, I'm just trying to make sure you don’t start crying again and cause an accident.”

“Okay, rude.”

Soonyoung ignores you, already strutting down the street.

“Your cars this way, right?”

“No.”

“Listen, I wanna come with you. I have nothing else to do today.”

“Cool,” You laugh, continuing the opposite direction Soonyoung headed. “but my car is still this way.”

The drive is pleasant. You learn more about Soonyoung in the thirty minutes it takes to get across town than you’ve learned in the weeks he’s been coming to the cafe. He has an older sister, he likes to volunteer at the youth center down the street in his time off, and he cannot work a computer if his life depends on it. You also learn more about his coworker turned best friend who also happens to be the boyfriend of your new god.

“Yeah Jihoon and I started the same day. He comes off kinda cold but it's all an act.”

“Oh, really?” You laugh, pulling into a cramped parking spot.

“One hundred percent. You should see him with Rita. I never saw him blush that much until they started dating.”

“How’d they meet?”

“Funny story.” Soonyoung shares, climbing out of the passenger seat. “So the bakery she worked at before had a fire. No one was hurt and they put it out before we even got there! But we went to make sure everything was clear. Well, Rita was there and I swear it was love at first sight for him.”

“That’s sweet.”

You both make your way inside the sliding doors; Soonyoung pushing a flat cart behind you through the aisles.

“He’s definitely mellowed out since he met her. Doesn’t work as much, thank god.”

“What about your girlfriend? Do you guys have the same Hallmark meet cute?”

“Oh! I don’t have a girlfriend.” Soonyoung mumbles, ears turning scarlett.

Your face heats as well. Whatever force compelled you to ask such a prying question revels in satisfaction to hear Soonyoung is in fact single. A tidbit of information you’ve never wondered about before.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you anything for today.” Rita says as she helps unpack everything onto the counter.

The cafe is scarce of customers, far past closing time but Rita said they’d be too busy delivering to their other customers in the morning to spare a trip to you. What's another Tuesday at the shop? It isn't like you have time for much of a social life given the million things you need to do.

“Really don’t worry about it. You're saving my life by getting me this stuff for tomorrow.”

“Well Soonyoung made a bargain I couldn’t refuse.”

You pause for a moment. Soonyoung didn't mention anything beyond the payment Rita quoted and later sent via email. Did he promise something from the shop on your behalf?

Swallowing the budding annoyance, you continue to work like nothing is wrong. “Oh?”

“I mean an entire month of covering Jihoon’s shifts? What kind of person passes that up?”

What?

Soonyoung offered to sacrifice all his free time to help you. Soonyoung who you barely know beyond the fact that he pretends to like black coffee. The man chews with his mouth open. Soonyoung who let you ruin his sweater with tears and snot from a horrible day.

“You didn’t know?” Rita asks, face full of mirth.

“Ugh, no,” you cough. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“I was shocked when he offered. He wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”

But he did it for you.

“Yeah.”

“Y/N?”

You find Rita smiling like she knows some big secret. If you had to guess, it's probably the same thing you're realizing now.

“Soonyoung’s a great guy.”

Words fail you because you know Soonyoung is a great guy. He held you when you cried, he comes in everyday without fail to turn off the alarm, and he just sacrificed a month of his life because it would help you.

Once you and Rita unpack the remaining cookies and cakes, she takes her leave but not before dropping another wink when she spots Soonyoung approaching from the direction of the fire house.

“Rita.” he greets at the door, holding it open for her exit.

“Hosh.”

And she’s gone without another word.

“How’s it going?” Soonyoung asks, rounding the counter to join you.

“Great!” You blurt with too much enthusiasm. “Rita ended up making everything we needed.”

A second set of hands assists in packing the glass display case in preparation for tomorrow's chaos. Soonyoung listens well. Patient to a T as you direct him to tweak things just so from the opposite side of the bar.

“Thank you for all your help this week. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here to help.”

He continues to unpack the few remaining goods beneath the counter as he responds. “It’s not a big deal. What are friends for?”

“Hmm and you agree to cover all of Jihoon’s shifts for your friends?”

Leaning back against the opposite counter, you watch Soonyoung’s shoulder tense and his ears erupt into bright red. He’s so still he doesn’t even seem to be breathing at the shock of being caught. Each passing second heightens the smirk curling your lips.

“Oh, you heard about that?” He asks into the counter.

You saddle up beside him, dropping your head until his eyes meet your own. Each inch of space you claim next to him sends him away like an opposing magnet; until your sandwich between him and the hardwood.

“Yeah, I heard.”

Soonyoung backs away nervously but not before you catch the way his eyes cut to your mouth. Who knew all it took is a smile and batting your eyelashes to make chatty Soonyoung clam up? The shyness bubbling on the edge of your conscious fizzles with the new knowledge; instead, curiosity takes its place. How much more can you make him blush? What would he do if you grabbed his hand? Or if you took a chance and kissed him?

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a crush on me?” You smile around each word.

He opens his mouth to argue but it's moot with the way you gaze at him, eyes shining with mirth. Like you're laughing at some shared joke. Soonyoung will tell you whatever truths you want to hear if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that.

“Yeah.” Soonyoung whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“Good.”

You step into his space with finality, chests brushing with each breath.

“Good?”

The edge of your teeth pinning your lip down is the only thing preventing a smile from ripping across your face as you answer. “Because I have a crush on you too.”

“Oh…” He nods, head dropping dejectedly and then it hits him and whips back up so fast his eyeballs rattle. “OH. You do?”

He watches you nod, slowly angling himself to connect your lips. When Soonyoung realizes you aren’t going to push him away, evident by the hand fisted in his sweater, he goes for it.

The curve of your lip, the breathy sigh you release into his mouth, the way you seem to go boneless with each pass are all committed to his memory. Soonyoung reminds himself to be good. That this is the first time he’s kissing you and he should be a gentleman; gentle, chaste, respectful.

And he would succeed but you’re acting like you have no interest in any of those things. You whisper another heavenly sigh into his mouth, trailing a hand in the short strands of hair at the base of his skull forcing Soonyoung to focus on batting away the demons at the edge of his mind rather than giving into temptation.

But when you tug to angle his head better the delicious sting drowns Soonyoung so quickly he has you pinned to the counter before he realizes what's happening.

Sometime later, when your lips are swollen and the floor sways beneath you from the flood of giddiness coursing through your veins, you and Soonyoung part. The crisp air of the late night tries in vain to nip at your face but you’re too distracted by the calluses on the side of Soonyoung’s thumb and the way they rasp against your knuckles as he walks you to your car.

The cafe is in full swing by the time Soonyoung comes in Wednesday morning.

All morning he paced across the cramped common room of the fire station. Sure you let him kiss you but what did it all mean? He knows you like him but did you like like him or just like him? Should he have asked you on a date? Would that be too forward? Did he mess things up by not immediately asking you out despite the fact he was so love drunk he ran into a pole after watching you drive off?

He fights the idea of running across the street and demanding answers. You’re definitely too busy to spare a second and tame the butterflies in his stomach. And how pathetic would he look if he asked you to explicitly dictate how you feel so no wires end up cross? And on Valentine’s day no less?

Luckily, he’s saved by the bell. Or rather the fire alarm.

He watches you work like a tornado, pausing only to smile at him the same way you did last night when he did not so safe for work things against the very counter lined with coffee cups and steaming mugs. Flashes of memory heat across his face.

You thank him with his usual coffee and one of the cupcakes you set aside just for him. Except this time his paper cup is scribbled with a heart and something else.

Be my Valentine? _Yes _ Also Yes _ YES BUT LOUD

At some point he should tell you about the sensitivity setting on the alarm and how all you need to do is nudge the tiny lever to the right if you don't want it going off every time the steam builds up. But the way you beam at him when he steals the sharpie from behind your ear and checks all three boxes on the cup makes Soonyoung decide it’s a secret he’ll keep for now.

@cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @tomodachiii @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @gyuguys @primoppang @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe

#svthub #svthub.collab #kvanity #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung fluff #hoshi fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #svt #svt fluff #seventeen #🫡 highvern

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midnightarcheress · 2 months

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woke up wanting to write something with my pretty boy kyle and this was born.

cw: nsfw. f!reader. gaz obsessing over the pretty college girl by his side. implied future stalking ig? unedited. part one | part two

someone catches Kyle’s attention on the plane.

his legs are on the verge of cramping and his breath is ragged, running to board his connection flight at the last call. after falling off a helicopter twice in the last operations, he developed an uneasiness of flying, no matter the aircraft, preferring taking the train over being miles up in the air, even if it triples the travel. but this time, he just wanted to get home the fastest way possible for a much-needed night of sleep in his own bed, instead of the barely cushioned military-issued mattress.

he hopped on the plane and made his way through the corridor, gaze fixed on the numbers under the luggage rack, attentively looking for his spot. he stopped by row thirteen, eyes darting between the number and the woman on the window seat. i could’ve sworn i marked that one when i booked? Kyle checks the boarding ticket again – row 13, seat A. it’s the right seat, why is there someone on it?

an annoyed sigh escapes his lips, gathering the energy to speak up and reclaim his rightfully bought seat. the problem is, he gets ultimately struck when the seat-thief notices him standing and turns to face him. wide eyes meet his brown ones, immediately softening at the sight of your tempting glossy lips and delicate fingers pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. pretty little thing.

“i’m sorry, is this your seat? it was empty on the first flight,” you say, an apologetic tone in your voice as you frantically close the book on your lap and shove it in a bag, “i’ll move back for you–”

“it’s alright, keep it.” he interrupts, throwing his carry-on in the rack and taking the empty middle spot beside you. he smirks at your appreciative nod and watches you settling again on the backrest, buckling the seatbelt at the shining signal hovering your heads and paying extra attention to the flight attendant announcements, even when no one around seems to care. sweet girl, so considerate to everyone.

the plane starts speeding on the runway, and from his peripheral he views your squeezed eyes and nearly white fingers gripping the armrest, breathing quickening during the gravity push of the take off. it takes a moment for you to release your tight grasp and exhale, making his hand twitch with an urge to soothe you, tell you that you’re safe.

he shakes the sensation and leans his head back, focusing on the one thing he can do to pass the time – sleep. but he can’t keep his gaze out of you, glancing to his left whenever you make a movement, no matter how small. the rapid keyboard tapping guides his irises to your laptop screen, catching a few words in a sea of what for him sounds like an alien language. DNA strand? allele? locus mutation?

he sneaks a look through your figure and his eyes land on the familiar blue logo on your hoodie, the same one he always sees on the walk from the market to his flat. uni a couple blocks from me. do you live on campus? or nearby? that neighborhood is awful at night, full of old blokes searching the pubs for a quick fuck with a naive college girl. but you seem smart, not the type to fall for their tricks, right?

the harder he tries to avoid your presence, the more you make yourself known, almost making him feel like it’s on purpose. the way your plump lips wrap on the water bottle, slight drop scaping on the corner and trailing down your neck, your flowery perfume filling his nostrils when you shift on your seat to remove the top layer of your clothing, exposing the low-cut blouse underneath and the soft roundness of your tits. is that for me, sweet girl? need a break from studying so hard? the sudden tightness of his trousers brings him back to his senses, stirring the thought out of his brain.

keep it cool, Garrick, he repeats over and over in his mind, ignoring the tent forming on his lap and praying to whatever god is out there that you won’t see it, even while standing up and brushing your legs on his knees to get to the corridor due the cramped space. however, he doesn’t miss how the guy by his side shamelessly ogles your cleavage when you step past him, making his blood boil and his fists clench – like he wasn’t doing the same exact thing minutes before.

while you're away, he glances at your screen again, noticing the constant message notifications from the contact ‘Marcus - DO NOT ANSWER’. already looking bad for you, mate. curiosity takes hold of him and he starts reading the texts, silently chuckling at the guy’s pathetic attempts to get your attention. what did he do to earn a cold shoulder, sweetheart? did he hurt you? didn’t he pay enough attention to you? i bet he couldn’t even fuck you the way you deserve.

he keeps skimming the messages until the grin tugging on the corners of his mouth fades into a frown when he reads ‘you’re gonna regret leaving me’. now, who’s this prick? think you’ll get away with threatening my girl?

his body stiffens when you come back, eyes darting back to the small telly in front of him when your hand brushes on his thigh while sitting once again. he hears your irritated huff when you skim through the messages, shutting the laptop with near violence. i can take care of him for you, love. you won’t have to deal with that by yourself anymore.

the pilot’s muffled voice coming through the speakers and announcing the landing shortens his daydreams about getting rid of Marcus. it would be a great way to keep himself busy while on leave, making sure to do it fast and secretly, of course, just to protect his sweet little thing. poor guy wouldn’t even know what hit him.

the pressure change on his ear is the telltale sign of the aircraft lowering its altitude, landing gear out to hit the lane and brake the machine. he turns to the side, watching again your knitted eyebrows and how your nails dig into the seat. this time he doesn’t contain himself and his hand gently lingers over yours, the softness of it sending lightning strikes over his body and almost making him cum instantly.

your glinting eyes find his face with a grateful gaze, lips mouthing a sugary thank you when the plane finally stops. he helps you take your handbag out of the rack with ease, using the situation to flaunt his muscles. i can even pick you up, darling. would love to feel your pretty thighs around my waist. you wouldn’t have to walk a day in your life.

his eyes follow the sway of your hips through the airport, heart almost bursting when you wave goodbye and flash him a timid smile. you think that’s the last time you’ll see him, he thinks this is just the beginning. a name and university? he’s used to finding people with even less information. see you soon, sweet girl.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz x reader #stalker!gaz #gaz x you #gaz smut #kyle garrick smut #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod x reader #nyx writes ☾#midnightarcheress

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iovetecchou · 8 months

Text

Stay Still ⧸ Fyodor Dostoevsky.𖥔 ݁ ˖

༞ Contains...! smut, somnophilia, oral (f receiving), biting, grinding, name-calling (whore), implied power imbalance / fyodor having some sort of control over the reader. he's sweet while you're sleeping but a prick when you're awake...

༞ AFAB Reader.

༞ 1,046 words.

kinktober masterlist!

Fyodor did not spare a second glance at any of his subordinates as he made swift strides toward his sleeping quarters. Knowing exactly what he needed to quell his frustrations right now; you.

Fyodor closed the heavy wooden door quietly as he stepped through the threshold of your shared space. The last thing he wanted was to wake you. The less talking right now, the better.

You always told your lover he was free to do whatever he pleased when it came to you. You aimed to satisfy him, conscious or not. Fyodor never quite took you up on that unconscious offer. He always preferred to watch you squirm and hear you beg for him as he toyed with you.

But tonight was different. Fyodor needed something to distract him from the millions of annoyances running through his head, and you were the perfect outlet.

Fyodor kicked off his boots, taking quiet steps toward the bed and shrugging off his overcoat in the process; letting it cascade to the floor. Fyodor took in your sleeping form as he tugged his ushanka off his head. His frigid hands now trailed over the hem of the duvet that resided at the foot of the bed. Slowly tugging the plush blanket up, slotting himself underneath, and wasting no time trailing his greedy hands up the expanse of your exposed legs.

The blanket let gravity take its course; falling over Fyodor’s frame and enshrouding him as he made himself comfortable beneath you. He rested flat on his tummy, slender legs still grounded to the bedroom floor. Fyodor sighed in contentment as he realized you were sleeping in that little nightgown that he loved so much.

But what really made his breath hitch? Was when his hands crawled under your flimsy dress, only to find you were completely bare underneath.

You made it too easy for him, really. It's like you were waiting for him to arrive home and ruin you.

Fyodor flipped the hem of your nightgown up before bringing his cold palms down to spread your thighs apart. His dominant hand ghosted over your pussy, letting his lithe digits glide through your wetness. A hum of approval emitted from Fyodor as he gathered up your slick before bringing his fingers up to his mouth. His tongue darted past his lips, groaning lowly as he tasted you.

Fyodor could already feel his tensions melting away from your taste alone. But he was insatiable when it came to you; he craved for more.

His face moved closer toward your inviting heat, inhaling deeply before placing a kiss on your clit. Fyodor smirked as he felt your thigh twitch under his grasp, provoking him even more. Fyodor let his tongue dart out, flattening his warm wet appendage against your twitching bud. He languidly began swirling his tongue in small circles, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he devoured you.

All of his troubles slipped away in this moment. All he could focus on was the way you trembled underneath him.

Fyodor could hear your breathing spike from beyond the duvet, as he began moving vigorously against your puffy bud. He explored your folds further; allowing his tongue to dip inside your fluttering hole. Small hums and sighs spilled past his parted lips as he ravaged you. The vibrations from his sounds caused you to twitch even more. His grip on your thigh tightened as you continued to squirm under his grasp.

He could tell you were close, but your jolting caused his brows to furrow in annoyance. If you were awake right now, you would be so obedient for him. Remaining still if he ordered you to do so.

Fyodor found his own sloppy rhythm against your pussy. Alternating between lapping at your clit and tongue fucking you slowly. But your movements were getting in the way of his blissful state of mind. He pulled away from your drooling cunt for a brief moment; a string of saliva still connecting your darling Fyodor to your needy heat as he turned his head slightly, placing a small kiss on your inner thigh before biting. Hard.

A gasp left your lips as you jolted awake. Feeling slightly disheveled from your rude awakening. You sensed warmth radiating from underneath the duvet and a coil on the brink of snapping inside your tummy. Slowly, your hands came down to lift the thick blanket up. Immense heat swirled within your core at the sight below you as Fyodor muttered,

“Hey… can you stop moving so much?”

Fyodor’s eyes were half-lidded; violet orbs swirling with lust. The bottom half of his face was coated in your slick, you noted before his tongue darted back out to ravage your pussy.

“Fedya…”

Was all you could manage to whisper. Your mind still clouded from waking only moments ago, but the view underneath you was mesmerizing. Your thighs locked underneath Fyodor’s grasp, managing to stay as still as possible as his lips wrapped around your clit. Fyodor messily suckled your bud, droopy amethyst orbs never once leaving yours since you first locked eyes. Before you could prevent it, the coil within you snapped.

Your pussy clenched around nothing as you came, pulling a low groan from your lover's lips as your clit thumped against his tongue. You whimpered as he continued to lap at your puffy bud, only pulling away a few moments later to catch his breath.

“Oh? Did you just cum without my permission?”

Fyodor spat out. You watched his eyes darken as he crawled his way up the bed; enveloping your frame with his. You whined as you felt his prominent erection pressing up against your spent pussy, before Fyodor roughly slammed his hips into yours. He grunted against your lips before reiterating,

“Answer the question, whore. Did you or did you not just cum?”

Your gaze flicked down in embarrassment. Fyodor's words finally tore you out of your stupor.

“I’m sorry, Fedya… I did. But I didn’t mean to, I promise!”

He clicked his tongue grounding himself against you once more and pulling a strangled whine from your lips before he retorted,

“I guess I’ll just have to put you in your place. You know, I really loathe it when you disobey my orders— and offer me empty promises. You have a long night of repenting ahead of you, my little whore.”

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs fyodor #bsd #bsd fyodor #bsd smut #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor smut #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky smut

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octoberautumnbox · 5 months

Text

Aquamarine

Soloist Lee Chaeyeon & Male Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Categories/tags: smut, shower, glass, camera/picture, standing sex, standing doggy, creampie, fluffy (at least thats the plan)

a/n: birthday piece for the second half of IZ*ONE'S HoneyWaterz! she gets like one fic a year y'all are missing out. and as usual (lol) no proofread no beta im sorry i know its terrible

The water glistens against her skin, shining as it falls down her back. The city lights seem so far below you like you're in the clouds yourself. The smoke doesn't reach up here, nor the hustle and bustle of the metropolis below. It's only you and her.

Click, click, click. Find her through your camera's lens, taking perfect shot after perfect shot. She turns around and smiles a divine smile at you, and you suspect that she's stopped posing a long while ago; now, she's just glad to find you nearby.

She paddles adorably over to the shallow end of the pool and takes a seat. "Thank you for taking me out like this, babe. I love you so much. Everything is perfect."

She wrings her hair carefully and looks up over the moon, enjoying the cool breeze of tropical air on her face and chest. Click.

"Ugh, stop it," she giggles. "I wasn't ready. Delete that one."

You chuckle and place your camera on a dry, flat surface and join her in the pool. The water is warm between your toes, and you accept the welcome by sitting down in it right next to her.

You try to put your arm around her shoulder, but she shrugs it off cutely. "Don't, you idiot," she scolds lovingly, "I'm all wet."

Sulking away playfully, never mind your lightly damp Hawaiian shirt, you respond. "Wow, calling me an idiot just for trying to love you. I knew it, you've just been using me all this time..."

She laughs her signature laugh, painting the skyline of your heart in vibrant tones of aquamarine. She takes your hand and pulls slowly, bringing your arm around her once more.

"You're gorgeous, you know that? Everything about you is perfect." Place a hand on her cheek and bring her gaze over to yours. "How'd I end up with someone as breathtaking as you?"

"Shut up, babe..." she chuckles lightly as she places her hand over yours. "You know I fell for you first."

Close your eyes gently as the gravity of your hearts draw your lips together. You find her halfway through the darkness, but of course you did. When has she ever let you down?

The kiss you share is slow, respectful. You ask for permission from each other wordlessly, giving and taking just a tiny bit more from each other's love with every singular peck.

She breaks the kiss gratefully. As you open your eyes you're met with a goddess, ethereal and alluring. And she's all yours.

Without her forehead leaving yours, she whispers to you, "Let's go inside, babe, I'm getting cold."

~~~

Pull her by her waist into the shower enclosure and take her lips again. She strips you of your Hawaiian shirt, now soaked, and tosses it out of the glass cubicle. Her arm wraps around your neck, while her free hand finds the shower handle.

The showerhead comes to life, and warm water falls onto your back. Chaeyeon slips her fingers under your waistband and pulls down, taking away your last bits of clothing and relieving you of the growing pressure in your shorts.

You do the same, pulling off her dripping wet bikini bottom. Without ever breaking the kiss, she kicks them away and takes your hands onto her plump and firm ass. She moans lightly at your touch, music to your ears.

As much as you want to keep them there, you know there's more you have to do first. Break the kiss for just a moment, and see your girlfriend out of breath.

Grabbing the hem of her top, you pull up. She raises both arms to help you out, knowing that this also gives you the best view of your favorite part.

The wet piece of fabric moves up past her chest, and her beautiful tits bounce free from their containment. You keep pulling until the bikini top clears her head and finally her arms, and then you toss them out of the cubicle and shut the door.

She wraps her arms around your neck again. Grip her ass cheeks and pull her towards you, savoring her firm behind while you force your cock between her thighs.

She moans cutely at the sensation of your head right at the entrance of her heat. You kiss her again, torridly this time, and she returns your affections hungrier, more impatient, less quietly than earlier.

She pulls you even closer, pressing her soft breasts onto your chest, and the feeling could not be more heavenly. You know she's doing this on purpose, and so you respond in kind by giving her a smack on her butt cheek, forcing it to jiggle. As she's groaning into your mouth as a reflex, you leave her at a loss for a more heavenly moment.

Chaeyeon finally frees your lips, and the both of you take a deep breath. You can't get enough, though, and bring her over to the glass pane nearest to you.

"You're so fucking hot..." She traces all over your body with her fingertips. "How do you want me, babe?" she asks courteously.

"You have to smile for the camera, sweetheart." Turn her around to face the glass, and wipe away the steam obstructing her view of outside. She spots your camera sat on a table, facing the pair of you, and she blushes and smirks devilishly as she catches wind of your plan.

"Naughty boy... Hurry up and take me." Chaeyeon bends over and gives you a clear view of her ass, and shows off her pink lower lips for your pleasure.

You make her lean on the glass pane with her forearms as you grab her by the hips. Always the gentleman, you don't keep her waiting. Pull her lips apart, hear her groan at the feeling, and, finally, push your hardened cock into her tight pussy.

"Fuck..." Click. The flash goes off in front of her, and she turns redder in her cheeks. "This is so fucking hot, babe..."

"Happy birthday, baby. You're getting a private photo book of tonight as one of your gifts. Smile your prettiest."

You feel her velvet walls clench lovingly around your cock. It isn't a challenge at all though, with her slick lubricating her insides, to pull out nearly all the way, and force yourself back into her core.

Relish the feeling of fucking the most beautiful woman in the world. Take pride in how she powerlessly surrenders herself to your will. With every thrust deep into her pussy, you show her that she'll only ever belong to you.

"Babe, harder... Please fuck me harder." You comply with her request, as you thrust forward you forcefully pull her back. Her ass meets your pelvis at every pump, producing a symphony of slaps and groans.

Click, click, click. The camera makes its presence felt as flashes fill the other side of the bathroom. Push your goddess of a girlfriend harder against the glass, and she lets out a loud "ahhhh" as her nipples and breasts are squished onto the cold surface.

"Right there, babe, keep fucking me just like that..." Her walls only get tighter as your cock splits her apart. The sounds of her pleasure fill the bathroom as you bring her closer and closer to climax.

"I love you... so... fucking much, babe..." you mutter next to her ear. You can tell she's losing control of herself, she answers only in moans of ecstasy at the rough fucking she's receiving.

Hook her leg under your arm, raise it for the camera. Click, click. The view of her pussy being violated by your cock is crystal clear for the camera to capture. Click. Chaeyeon screams in pleasure as you reach new depths in the lewd position she finds herself in. Click. Her face is smushed against the glass with how hard you're pushing her. Click, click, click. Her nipples grow stiffer against the clear pane, spurring her on and on towards her eventual release.

"Sweetheart, you still good?" She can't answer, you know she can't. Just one look and you can tell she's long gone: her head thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of her skull, no regard for whatever she might be saying anymore.

Figure she's had enough. Conclude her long day with a bang. Give her a high note to end a perfect celebration. Better yet, make her sing the high note herself.

You grow more ravenous with your hold on her. "You know... One of your gifts... a whole photo book... of just tonight." Click. You thrust into her sex more roughly, chasing your high as you force her to reach hers. She can't defy you, and you know she won't. She's yours.

Her climax comes to her like an earth-splitting bolt of lightning. All at once, a guttural scream rips through her throat, click, streaks of her cum spray onto the glass she's pressed against, click, she stumbles as her legs give out underneath her, click, click, and her walls grip you in a desperate attempt to prolong her unholy pleasure as much as she can, click.

"I'm cumming, baby... Happy birthday--!!!" With a deep groan you shoot your cum into her womb, making sure every spurt stays in and takes. Her walls apply a heavenly amount of pressure on your cock, milking you for more, and you give her exactly what she wants. With every spurt of your hot cum into her abused snatch Chaeyeon screams louder yet, click, begging in gibberish for something she herself doesn't even know anymore.

You realize she's full up when your cum overflows from her pussy and down her thigh. She's taking heavy breaths now, and your wits are slipping away from you.

~~~

You find yourself sat on the cold tiled floor of the shower. Warm water still falls from the showerhead and onto the pair of you. Chaeyeon is taking her sweet time filling her lungs with air and steadying her breathing. Her head's leaned onto your shoulder, so you push her hair aside to give her a kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, sweetheart. You might not have heard me earlier, but happy birthday."

She can only respond in deep breaths and scratchy hums. She brings her lips back over to yours, last kiss before getting dressed for bed. And you know that meant "I love you too."

a/n: yknow i should just stop planning fics at this point lmao. anyways, happy birthday our feather chaeyeon!!!

#lee chaeyeon smut #chaeyeon smut #girl group smut #izone smut #kpop smut

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abibliophobiaa · 11 months

Text

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

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lilrainbowcloud · 5 months

Text

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Child of Apollo! Reader

Genre: Fluff and angst

Word count: 2.6k || masterlist

Warning: mention of blood

a/n: the pictures used does not potray the reader. the final part, annabeth was never there.

The two times you trusted him, and the one time he betrayed you.

i. Taking his hand to pull you through the protective barrier.

“Wake up, we’re almost there,”

Taking a deep breath as you regained your consciousness from a dreamless sleep, you straighten your back, arms stretching above your head as you readjust your focus to the satyr in front of you.

“What?”

“Camp Half Blood! We’re almost there!” exclaimed your friend, Caelum, excitedly pointing to the window with a wide smile adorning his face. Happy to be able to bring back a demigod safely to camp for a satyr his age. An achievement of his service.

Turning to the window yourself, the view of the forest and blue sky bordered by the sea filled your vision. The more the train moved forward, the longer the scenery in front of you unfold like a painter with a brush painting the environment for you as you go.

A soft gasp escaped your lips.

“How do you know where to go?” curious, you asked your guide as you dodge the protruding branches from scratching your skin, however when you looked in front of you, it was no problem for Caelum to navigate the forest as though he was water flowing through a river. His movement fluid, legs nimble. You watched as his little goat ears twitch as he moved.

“Trust me! I know this forest like the back of my hand!”

Feeling your movement was obstructed on your left foot, gravity pulled you down as you got caught on a root. You yelped as both of your hands braced you from the impact of the fall.

“Cael-“

“Shh!”

“Can you at least he-”

“SHH!”

Confusion and disbelief twisted your face as you looked up at him. How could he told you to shut up when you just fell? And not help you up. Wasn’t he supposed to be your protector? That was what he told you back at your mum’s house when they relayed to you the truth about your life. From wanting closure and understanding of your acentric self, you had accepted the reality of your being wholeheartedly. The least you knew you weren’t the one. It was comforting in a twisted way.

A second of you assessing his demeanor, ears flat on his head, eyes wide searching, you knew better than to make another sound. Instead, slowly you untangle your foot from the root and turned your body to look behind you.

The forest had gone deftly silent. No bird chirping, no leaves rustling. Something was definitely wrong.

A loud flap of wings could be heard, then there was a shadow moved on the ground, passing above you. What animal had that large of a wingspan? Nothing came to your mind but it filled your nerves with icy bites of fear. The hair on the back of your neck stood.

“Y/N, get up right now,” two arms hooking under your armpits, you didn’t hear Caelum ran to you as he hauled you up to your feet. Eyes looking through the trees above you, you nodded hastily and took his hand in yours as he quickly pulled you into a sprint.

“The camp is near! Once we get pass the barrier it can’t get to you!”

Failing to form any words, you only managed to squeeze his hand in confirmation that you understood him. Whatever barrier he meant and whatever was chasing you, you didn’t care. Only your life and safety mattered.

The loud screeching of the fury could be heard to anyone who was near the camp border. That anyone was none other than Luke himself. Momentarily distracted by the form of the winged monster emerging from the forest trees, the wooden sword of his sparring partner hit him on the shoulder causing his opponent to quickly apologize with concern. But it fell on deft ear as Luke held his hand up as an “Its fine” gesture, too focused on the flying monster diving back down into the thick foliage.

Gripping the wooden sword in his hand tighter as tough it was a real sharpened one, he and the other campers nearby halted their activities to stand ready too near the border. Weapons drawn in steady hands, they held their ground for a possible attack of an intruder or welcoming a demigod.

“There!” The sound of a voice shouting could be heard following the rustling of bushes as a satyr and a girl, frightened looking with their hands linked emerged into the few meters of clearing separating the camp and forest.

The winged figure rose again to the sky, Luke noticed its nose about to dive down on them again. Gasps and shouts of horror rose with the crowd.

Instinct took over his body. Turning to his right to a camper from the Apollo cabin, he snatched the bow and arrow off of his hands before running pass the protection of the barrier and into the clearing where he was joined with the pair in the middle.

“Go! Go!” encouraging them to move forward for the last few meters from the border, Luke aimed the bow upwards, landing a clumsy shot with unfocused aim to the fury. Not his best suited weapon but it was enough to direct the fury away from them as the three of them sprinted back to safety.

Sensing the fury closing in on them behind his back by the sound of its screeching loud in his ear, with less than two meters away from the border, Luke pushed his legs to run ahead of them and with a last surge of adrenaline, he pulled the girl’s arm, bodies colliding as he cushioned her fall with his figure.

A loud thud, followed by a screech echoed through the atmosphere. A second later the sound of wing flaps disappearing filled you with a sense of relief as you knew that whatever that creature was chasing you had retreated to the hell hole it came from.

Fear replaced with reality, your flight senses dissipating slowly made you aware of your surrounding again. Made you aware of the hard grip you had on the body of the person who had pulled you through the barrier.

With a jolt of surprise as if you had been shocked by an electric static, you released your grip from him, quickly standing up with an utter of Thank you for saving your life.

Turning back towards the forest, the sight of the monster was no longer there. You were only left with the many pair of eyes looking at you with interest as they welcome a new half-blood into the camp. Another pawn of the gods in their game of life. But you don’t know that yet.

“Welcome to Camp Half Blood.”

Facing the voice of your savior, it was the first time you get to appropriately assess him. His appearance of dark curly hair slightly matted on his forehead, tall stature, and kind smile as he extended his hand to you in greeting. As if what had happened moments ago was that nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m Luke.”

ii. He taught you to sword fight.

Two summers had passed since your first day arriving at camp.

One bead of the day Apollo claimed you as his daughter a few weeks of your first stay after you had helped saved and healed a child of Demeter from a cut, he received from a river stone during capture the flag. The bright yellow glow of the sun symbol bathed the riverbank of the camp as cheers from your now half siblings roared through the air.

Another bead from your second summer at camp. The summer you had shared your confessions with Luke under the blanket of stars, illuminated by the bonfire as you both sat together with the melodious voice of your half siblings leading the song. It was a shared sentiment with each other as you both vowed to protect and be there by each other’s side through anything. A sanctuary in the form of trust bonding you to him, blinding the absurdity of your fates in the world even only for a while.

“Get up, Y/N,”

Huffing out an annoyed breath, you took his outstretched hand as he pulled you back on your feet. Being the child of Apollo, you had a natural talent with the bow and arrow. The curve of the finger pads, and the slender shape of the arrow knocked on the bow string molded so perfectly into you. It was a natural talent in your blood thanks to your father. But with a sword, it does not resonate with you. Therefore, this was the third summer that Luke, being the best swordsman in the camp offered to teach you.

So, here you are with a wooden sword, surrounded by the dense trees as the audience as the son of Hermes handed your ass to you.

“You know what, I think I’m improving enough for today don’t you think?” truthfully, you were just finding an excuse to stop the training session earlier than usual as you dusted the dead leaves off of your clothes.

“You did improve, and I’m proud of you.” Getting back to his starting stance, he aimed the point of the fake sword at you again, with a playful glint in his eyes.

In a swift movement of a trained warrior, he moved behind you with the tip of the wooden sword softly touching the back of your neck, “What if someone tries to back stab you?”

Even if he’s not in front of you, your mind’s eye can form the face he was making. Proud to have tricked his opponent in a moment of distraction. You slowly turned around, he tipped the sword to your chest.

“If someone stabs you from the back, then they’re a coward.”

Raising your own sword to push his away from your chest, you took a few steps back and continued your battle stance once more.

iii. Defending Percy from Luke.

Colourful sparkles of the fireworks filled the sky. Each boom heard comes with it a bloom of neon flower lighting up the camp’s sky as the camp went into celebration of the return of Percy from his quest. Cheers of the campers made your heart full as you made your way through the woods trying to find Luke to join you near the bonfire for the singalong.

Though the sky was lit, the ground was shrouded by the darkness of the night. The weigh of your quiver on your hip, and the golden bow, a gift from your father on your back gave you comfort as you trudge towards the place where you and Luke meet up for lessons.

After the sun sets, he vanished from your bearings which was odd since he had promised you to help with the preparation of the celebration later in the evening. Knowing him, it was one out of three places he could’ve gone to.

“Luke!” calling out to him, your voice was swallowed by the void, absorbed by nature. You didn’t get any reply back.

Venturing further, his name caught on the tip of your tongue as you heard the metal clash of swords. Stopping in your track for a moment, you heard voices mixing with the clinging.

Luke and Percy.

Worry surged you forward towards the ruckus.

Horror filled your chest as you witness Percy slashing riptide to Luke. A sound of hurt came from Luke meant Percy had hit him.

Anger took over as you danced a move you’ve practiced and even more perfected overtime, your arrow now knocked on the bow, feet sliding at the end of your halt in front of Luke, shielding him from Percy.

“Y/N?” Both of them gasping out of breath from their duel. One in disbelief and the other, confused.

“Percy, what are you doing?”

Never in your lifetime would you had imagined a day you would turn your weapon against someone who you considered as your friend despite the little amount of time you had spent together. But here you are, eyes squinting to see him better in the dark. Fingers ready to release the arrow.

“Are you with him too?” His grip on riptide loosened at his side, looking up at you with a betrayed face.

“What are you talk-”

“Are you working with Kronos too?!” Percy’s accusing tone caught you off guard, causing you to lower your bow. Tilting your head as you let out a confused huh?

“Percy, you’re not making sense here,” Luke’s name died on your lips as you felt the cold tip of backbiter against your exposed neck. Eyes wide, you captured Percy’s eyes with his reflecting the same emotion as you, alarmed.

Déjà vu.

In the same forest, in the same spot, with the same person but with a different weapon.

Coward.

What was he thinking? What was happening first and foremost. Why were they fighting? It did not look like a practice session.

“Luke, tell me what is happening. Right. Now.”

As much as you were frightened, the overwhelming feeling of betrayal weighed heavier.

You were frozen.

“He’s working with Kronos to bring him back. To start a war. He stole Zeus’ master bolt.”

In the last sentence Percy relayed to you, you could feel the shift of the sword. So, it’s true?

Percy would not lie to you. But so would Luke. Right?

“Is that true?” Broken were your voice as you muttered the question to the person you called your lover.

The grip of your bow and the arrow returned. The muscles of your body tensed, ready to resume position.

“Y/N, listen to me, go back-”

The sword tip shifted again.

Taking advantage of this, in one swift movement you positioned yourself in front of Percy, the knocked arrow now pointing towards Luke instead.

What are we now?

The fireworks continued. For the first time tonight, you could see his face, illuminated by the purple and blue hues from the sky.

Hurt was what you saw in his dark eyes. But so was yours.

“You’re trusting him more than me now?” He raised his sword, swinging it to point from you to Percy. Eyes hardened.

“Why would he lie to me?” Why would you lie to me?

A scowl graced his face as you claimed that. The scissors that cut the string from him to you passed through.

Sensing the rising tension, Percy shouted your name as he shoved you to the side.

Luke raised his sword to swing down.

As you hit the ground, your arrow flew from your fingers, grazing Luke’s shoulder.

A hiss of pain and everything paused.

With Percy by your side, you on your back on the ground, supported by your elbows, watched as Luke held his shoulder with force. Red bloomed where your arrow had hurt him, breaking his skin.

You hurt him. But he had hurt you too.

Was this fair?

“I’m sorry,” came out weak to your ear. You didn’t event know if it had reached Luke or not. But he looked at you with much hatred.

Did he betrayed you, or you betrayed him?

“I’m sorry,” lifting yourself up from the ground, “Luke, please,” Percy helped you to stand.

Shaking his head, completely at lost for word, Luke walked back a few steps away from you as though you were the villain.

Of course, you had hurt him after promising to protect each other. But he also raised his weapon at you with the intention to hurt. Or was it to daunt you? To get you to back off?

Without another word to you, Luke turned his back to the both of you and launched himself into the rip of air among the ruined stones.

Your feet didn’t move fast enough. Your instinct wasn’t fast enough to reach him.

He vanished with your voice shouting his name.

Emptiness was what you felt as your knees hit the ground.

Numbness took over when Percy called out your name repeatedly.

Was this really happening?

Will you ever see him again?

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan angst #luke castellan fluff #pjo #pjo tv show

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theminecraftbee · 11 months

Text

Grian comes to again, flat on his back, and groans. Distantly, he hears Scar yelling an apology. It’s hard to tell if Scar had accidentally dropped sand, accidentally kicked one of the dragon eggs currently littering their bases (causing it to fall), or had missed concrete somewhere and caused that to drop, but the apology, this time, was at least sincere, so he’s fairly certain Scar didn’t intentionally knock Grian out. Doesn’t mean Grian hadn’t been knocked on his ass by, what, a pavlovian reaction to sand? But it means Scar hadn’t been intentionally exploiting it.

He’s rubbing his head when he hears them chittering distantly. He looks up, and then he Looks up, just to make sure he’s not imagining it, and… yep, they’re there. The Watchers. They’re busy happily chittering about the fact that Grian passes out when any block falls to the ground. Of course they are. He wonders if this is their fault. Probably not; Watchers may be annoying, but they can’t see the future, so it’s not like they’d have known about the egg thing ahead of time. No, they’re probably just amused at his suffering.

Joke’s on them. This is mostly just going to make cleaning up slower. And they’re going to have to deal with that too, on account of the fact Grian can’t do much else until it’s done.

He’s trying to hit another egg with a piston when he hears, distantly, “shoot, the beach!”, realizes what has happened, and then he’s waking up on the ground again. He stares at the sky for a moment.

“Trust Scar with sand, I thought. He terraforms all the time, I thought. He won’t keep messing me up with it, I thought.” He groans.

The chittering of the Watchers gets louder. He hears a lot of ‘Scar’ and ‘sand’ and ‘he can’t bear it’ and. Great. Grian’s pretty sure he knows what comment is coming next—

you’ve never left that desert.

“So this is your fault!” he says, accusingly. “Why! All it’s done is make my life more confusing!”

Indistinct noises. At one point, when Grian had been more one of them than he is now, he had been able to tell all of the voices apart easily. Now, the Watchers are somewhere between the wall of incomprehensible, horrible sound that they are to mortals and normal voices. He has to strain to pick out anything overly specific. He supposes if he chose to go all Watcher again he’d be able to tell what they’re saying, but frankly, they’re all annoying, so why would he bother? Better to stick to things as they are.

He messages Scar: If you drop sand one more time I am going to figure out how to add more dragon eggs to your base.

Scar messages back: its an accideet

Grian responds one more time: lol. accideet.

He takes a moment before standing up to check around himself. Scar does seem to have moved on from whatever he’d been doing with terraforming to keep dropping gravity blocks, so it’s probably safe to stand without passing out again. What had he been doing? Right. Eggs. Piston.

you never left that desert, Grian hears again from the wall of noise.

“Right. That’s me. Never left,” Grian says. Honestly.

can’t stand the sight of scar and sand.

“You know you guys are reaching, right?” Grian says.

never left—

“I would if you’d let me!” snaps Grian.

Indistinct chittering. Deep breaths. He’s fine. He's apparently developed sand-based epilepsy or something, and is trying to find the solution to that, but. Fine. He’s fine. It’s not like arguing with Watchers is ever actually worth it. They never change their mind. The thing is that they tend to think they know exactly how he works, and no matter how much he tries to refute their baseless assumptions, they still have a picture in their head, and they still keep working off of it.

A strange shudder runs down his back.

you never left that desert.

“Look, it’s not that I’m not over it,” Grian says. “I’m actually pretty over it. I’ve been over it since Last Life, really, even if none of you believe me.” He puts another egg in his inventory. “Scar’s my friend and he’s a weird guy and I like him, but it’s not like I’m not over that stupid game. Wouldn’t keep playing it if I weren’t over it, would I?”

Indistinct chittering about tragedy and deserts and dramatic final suicides and, look, Grian is good at telling stories. That’s the whole point. That’s why these guys won’t leave him alone. But sometimes, he swears…

“So you know, I would have left the desert by now. It’s just that you all haven’t. So guess who’s still stuck here? Believe me, it’s not me who’s not over it. If you wanted me out of the desert, you could let me leave any time you’d l—”

He has a second’s warning before he’s on the ground, dizzy, hoping he hasn’t gotten a concussion. He glances down at his communicator.

Mumbo says: that was me this time my bad

Shakily, Grian types: you have 10 seconds. start running.

The chittering gets more distant. Grian gets up. He checks to make sure his wings are on. He goes to light a rocket, but not before shouting: “Scar, if you do anything with gravity blocks while I am actively flying I will kill you dead!”

“Have fun buddy!” Scar shouts back. Grian’s not sure Scar actually heard a word he said. Well, hopefully there will be no sand falling from his hands while he goes to murder Mumbo, then. If there is, Grian’s—well, Grian’s going to have a broken bone at that rate, but he’s recovered from far worse falls. Some of those have even been Scar’s fault, by some measure or another.

He Looks back up at the mass he knows are the Watchers. “If this is you all’s fault because you never seem to have gotten over the whole desert thing, I’ll find a way to, I don’t know. Inconvenience you greatly. Not sure what I’ll do, but I’ll figure it out.”

The chittering gets way more fond, then. Pleased. They want him to do that. Can’t even threaten the assholes properly, they like it. Honestly, Grian doesn’t know why he bothers. It’s not like they’ll listen. No matter how many times he says he’s over it, it’s not like they’ll listen.

(Sometimes, he hates that he’s so good at stories.)

Right then. Time to wreak havoc on his friends for exploiting his very exploitable weakness, then. This sword’s got sharpness on it, right?

------

(originally written for @hermitcraftguesstheauthorevent, and posted on ao3 here; now that it's revealed, i figured i'd go ahead and post it here, since it really matches the cadence of one of my tumblr things more than an ao3-only fic. enjoy!)

#hermitcraft #grian #the watchers #desert duo #KIND OF? i think this COUNTS?#a bee fic #anyway guess the author was cool! thank you so much <3 #wrote this like immediately after the falling sand stuff came out as a musing on some of the ways people were talking abotu it #you know how it is. sometimes you've gotta metacommentary.

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annabelvallie · 10 days

Text

Calvin Klein - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky Barens x reader. Short story smut!

Both you and Bucky have nightmares, being the only two people on the 32nd floor of Avengers Tower means when the other is having a night terror the only thing to do is to lay there and listen or comfort the other.

>1k words.

@AnnabelVallie on wattpad and Ao3

My eyes dart open, and a scream comes from the room opposite mine. It's louder than I've heard before. Another one, muffled with cries fully wakes me up. I jump out of bed and yank Bucky's door open. "shh, hey it's okay, you're okay," I try to comfort him but his screams continue. After another scream, he shoots up, panicked. His eyes are bloodshot and frantic. "You're okay, it's okay," I repeat over and over. His breathing slows and he looks down, hiding his eyes. I slide across next to him. His body tenses before relaxing. and with his arms still firmly locked around me, I can feel the harsh thump in his chest slow to a steady beat. Turning to him, our eyes are inches away, like an apple and gravity my lips fall smoothly over his and rub the palm of my hand along his scruffed jaw.

After a second of stillness where my mind finds itself at the back of my tongue, he gets out of bed and leaves me for the bathroom. The only noise made was water running from the taps. It hurts more than when I bleed. Steadying my feat on the ground in the pitch black I walk to my room, once I'm at my doorway Bucky appears behind me.

He places his hand on my shoulder causing me to turn, the blue of his eyes draws mine like a magnet so I am unable to glance down at his fabric-less skin. His hand moves to the side of my head and he leans in pressing his mouth against mine. I push back, making our lips dance with each other. I take a step back into my room, taking him with me. My hand tails at his waist and stops at the hem of his shorts. I take a breath and look at him. His face is dark, and certain. I hook my fingers on the drawstring, pulling his lips back to mine. As he sits down on the bed, feeling for the mattress with closed eyes I straddle his hips he moves his head to the crook of my neck, planting kisses along my skin until he gets to the neck of my shirt. I lift it from the hem revealing my chest. His eyes lock on my nipples as his hands latch aggressively fast onto the ballooned curve. I run my finger along Bucky's abs, tracing the defined lines. I lean in kissing his curled lips and run my hands down to the drawstring on his pants. His eyes search mine, looking for a yes. I nod. He pulls down his sweatpants leaving white Calvin Klein underwear. He rolls me over so I'm flat on my back his hands trail to my shorts. As he pulls down mine then his own I stare back at his hips and my eyes glide down as more of his skin is revealed inch by inch He leans over me and our lips dance, letting our tongues intertwine. Reaching down, taking his member in my hand. I run my fingers over it making it grow harder. I guide his dick towards me. Bucky exhales as his tip feels my opening. He holds himself up, aligning and pushes in, a short unexpected moan escapes my lips. I hold on top of his biceps and he continues as I wrap my leg around his waist. The sound of our breathing fills the room. The faster the pace I can feel myself twisting and starving. I move my hands to his neck and we lock eyes. Bucky moves his head down to the crook of his neck and he continues thrusting. His hot breath bushes against my neck. I feel my stomach knot like I had just indulged in a perfectly presented meal I had been craving for a lifetime, and a wave of pleasure as if I had honey poured over covered the both of us. We were stuck comfortably in a sticky, warm, amber feeling.

We lay there wrapped in a blanket, my room lingers with a post-sex smell. Resting my head on his bare chest, we slip back into sleep, sleep where neither of us face the horrors of our minds, sleep where we know we're safe.

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mochinomnoms · 14 days

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I just thought of how chaotic bodyswapping with either of the leeches would be. Especially in PTM. We have Riddle swapping with Floyd which makes Riddles dorm confused and slighty scared with such a chaotic Riddle then a Floyd trying to calm him down and trying to still manage the dorm as best as he can. Then we have … Jade. I feel like he would seem pretty normal for the most part maybe mimicing Yuu as best as he can or just being very formal and polite. Nothing for Yuu to worry about until Jade figures that thus is a perfect oppurtunity to explore the human body and what better body then his mate (i can imagine this is before they get together), i can see jade dressing up in various outfits and admiring himself in the mirror and maybe even taking a few photos or two, you know for the memories like the freak he is. Not sure if he would go farther than that but I can see Yuu worrying about the possibilities and no one believeing they are Yuu until they can prove it to ADeuce and Grim (who might be more inclined to believe it if they saw Riddle and Floyd before hand). And maybe both Jade and Floyd take this opportunity to make sure they have no rivals, flat out rejecting anyone who they may know has a crush on their mate.

sorry for this long blurb just wanted to share

-🧀

Aaaah, I get iffy about bodyswaps sometimes since they can get borderline uncomfy, but I am always down for funny stories. Especially in PTM, it's so full of potential for hijinks!

I am down for bodyswaps if it happens when everyone is aware, if that makes sense? For example, Riddle, Jade, and Yuu are all in their potions class working on their in class assignment. But as we know, Floyd likes to ditch class sometimes to go hang with Jade in his classes. It's a bonus that his Goldfishie is also there, makes for a fun time!

Maybe a bit too much fun...he's knocked over the potion the group next to them had been making. It splashed over him and Riddle, who was now steadily raising his voice, and spilled onto the floor, where you managed to slip and drag Jade with you as you grabbed on his lab coat for stability.

The two of you were now covered in the potion, you're mumbling about not having enough detergent for another load so soon, and Jade is clicking his tongue as he got up. He helped you up, gloves wet, shoes grimy, and you two made your way over to the eyewash and shower station in the corner.

Riddle follows, dragging an annoyed Floyd to the station as well so wash up, the latter complaining about not wanting to get wet. Never mind that he is already wet from the potion. It's when you and Jade are stripping your outer layers to wash up, that Floyd reaches to poke at Riddle's cheek.

A small shock of lighting bounced between them, a red one crackling over Floyd and a light teal one over Riddle. Floyd jerks away, tripping over himself and falling on his back. Riddle froze, hands out and eyes darting as he stared between Floyd and his own hands. Like he was processing something...

You're watching him, a bit scared at Riddle's sudden stillness, as Jade kneels down to Floyd murmuring to his twin as Floyd looks around disoriented.

It's when you finally ask Riddle, leaning down to try and make eye contact with him, that Riddle looks at you. He's wide-eyed, and looks a bit feral, as he shouts, “WHAT THE FUCK” at the top of his lungs (eerily similar to a certain twin) that you stumble back in surprise.

You trip, feeling Jade's arms catch you, and only have a moment to process Jade's bare hands against your skin, when an electric feeling, and gray and dark teal lighting dance across your body.

You feel your head split open, and your body feels off, like your gravity of center moved. A small body in your arms groans, shifting in your grasp, as you blink your eyes open. You don't register the person in front of you at first, though they look familiar.

Imagine your shock when their head turns to look at you and a familiar pair of eyes, just like yours, and blinks.

“...Floyd? Wait, no.” your voice sounds foreign to your ears, like a stranger speaking a different language. “That's—why is everything so tall?”

“Is this what it's like to be short? Oh whaaaat?” You snapped your head up to look at Riddle, or the person who looks like him anyways, as he twirled around, giggling. The tone of his voice was off, a lot like Floyd, as he grinned over at your little pile up, and skipped over to where Floyd was still on the ground, looking at Riddle with a horrified expression.

“Riddle leaned down, a teasing smile on is lips, as he cooed, That you in there Goldfishie?”

“...FLOYD GET OUT OF MY BODY!”

Floyd never really yelled, so hearing him was a shock to everyone scrambling around in the lab as they tried to figure out what was going on. Crewel, poor dear Divus Crewel, is so fucking tired.

Thankfully, he can whip up the remedy potion rather easily. Unfortunately, he has a very busy day with classes, and it will have to wait until later in the day. He sends a mass text to the faculty informing them of the accident, and advises that you all continue your day as normal.

“And please, for the love of all that is good in this world, let everyone else know. There's no reason to hide it, the embarrassment cannot possibly be enough that you need to pretend to be each other. Just, let your dorms know and continue as normal in each other's bodies.”

Despite this, hi jinks and pranks still ensue. Mostly initiated by Jade and Floyd, and mostly at yours and Riddle's expense. If you two notice that some of your peers, ones that were particularly soft on you and that others claimed had a crush, suddenly are avoiding you after the switch, the twins just tell you that they had to tell them off.

If the twins ask why one of their transformation potions are gone, you and Riddle better not tell them that you got curious about how being a merman felt like and didn't know how to transform back without using the potion. Unless you want to get teased about it, of course.

They'll find out regardless, and each twin with tease their respective human, asking them why they were so interested in the first place.

“Awww, is my lil Goldfishie interested in being under the sea? Don't worry, I'll make sure you're all prepped before taking ya back home with me!”

“If you wanted to know what being a mer is like, you could have asked me~ I'd be happy to make you a potion and take you to the depths with me. I have several lovely, private areas that I think you'd greatly enjoy.”

Maybe this is what you all needed to break the ice? Or maybe it just makes it thicker, I'll leave it up to you!

#mochi asks #🧀anon #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech #floyd leech #riddle rosehearts #jade leech x reader #floyd x riddle #ptm #for a more spicy~ version of this #they def either ask you two to help them “understand” their current bodies better #or have a fun time “exploring” them #they gotta know what makes yall tic if they want to make your first times good

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chiliyue-archived · 11 months

Text

One more kiss or maybe three

↬sometimes Riddle needs the reminder to rest

Includes; Riddle Rosehearts

GN!Reader

Tags; early bday gift for @cupids-chamber but anyone can read it <3

[Twst M.List] ♡

Clack clack clack

The sound of pen meeting paper, you came to learn, was rather obnoxious when listening to the same drone again and again and again. What hour was it now? You'd had lost sense of time as minutes molded into an impeccably long hour.

Your scarlet lover was a busy one, you couldn't hold it against him for the hefty amount of duties he had to perform now and again; however, such responsibilities kept you waiting beyond the hours of twilight just so you can bid a goodnights rest with him by your side.

Riddle Rosehearts would scoff at this behavior, finding it rather unhealthy(while he himself failing to recognize the hypocrisy in his words). His mouth would move in slow drawls, urging you to sleep in his absence and that he mustn't keep you from your subconscious.

" My rose, it is unwise to force yourself awake. Please get some sleep. I will join you soon." The words left him nonchalantly, his eyes stilling on the words dipped within the parchment. He moved his pen to position it upon the page, gliding it with ease whilst his free hand fiddled with spare documents.

Such concerns would fall on deaf ears and a cordial, " It's alright, I can wait," would slip from your lips. And such responses would coax a tingle of guilt to gnaw on Riddle's mind.

He truly felt awful for keeping you awake at late hours for his own needs, but a dormleaders' work is an upmost task. Even at the betrayal of his desires.

Tonight, his workload just happened to more than usual, he wasn't fond of it of it but it couldn't be helped.

However, while also acting upon the role of leadership, he also had to uphold his role - arguably similar in prestige - his academic studies. Normally, the Roseheart boy would plow through his paperwork and coursework with ease albeit with droopy eyes and buckling knees at the end of it - however, for reasons he struggled to fathom, his duties only doubled that week. His mother would certainly be displeased.

You were not blind to the way his shoulders sagged with each document he filed away, his fingers becoming sluggish, and the writing was starting to become ineligible. Nor did you turn a blind eye to small yawns he gave or the way his eyes flickered to the clock - a look of disappointment would flash on his features at just how much time has passed. And how much work was still left. It was evident in his stature, dropping with the weight of gravity.

"Perhaps we should turn in for the night." You mumbled your concerns, vacating the seat and instead coming to lean beside him. From this new angle, you could clearly see the bags in his eyes, taunting him in a display of mockery. The temptation to kiss it away was compelling, and your knuckle went to brush aside his stray strands.

Though your lover was the stubborn one, it didn't surprise you when he replied; " I will finish here soon, but please get some rest yourself."

Despite his laud achievements, even he couldn't suppress the urge to recline against your touch as your fingers ran along his sculp. A hum escaped him the more your nails lightly slaved to rose colored strands. And while he's been privy to such actions many times before, a light pink nonetheless doused his cheeks, deepening the longer your ministrations persisted.

You couldn't help but grin when he placed the mountain pen down, his eyes squeezing shut soon following. In a show of tenderness, a gloved hand reached out for your own.

Muscle memory kicked in, his lips pressing to the flat of your hand like he had done so, so many times at unbirthday parties. It still made his heart quake in a candor he struggled to scribe words upon - but it made his stomach tumble over a stirring of emotions.

He came to associate those emotions with a sense of warmth. It tickled and squeezed his heart far more than anything else did, and the feeling was palpable even long after your touch withdrew. It was embedded in hot streaks, cascading down his spine and coaxing mild shivers in his wistful reminiscent moments. It was unsavory how it would soon fade away, merciless to time - however, he never had to wait too long until he felt your familiar touch once again.

Silver eyes glanced at the ticking clock. It was terribly late indeed.

A sigh of resignation slipped him - and that's how you knew you won. " I suppose I should credit myself some leisure time." His murmur came out more to himself than to you and his head dipped in consideration.

A silence shrouded over the room. Before long, his gaze directed back to you, cheeks stretching to accommodate a gentle smile.

He was still getting used to that - smiling. For something so humane, it felt oddly alienated to him. But he was slowly familiarizing himself with it. He noted how the gesture was always flickered to his lips when he was in your presence. Smiles were associated with joy or some form of saccharine feeling. You had always filled him with vitality, so it only made sense.

He can't clearly recall when he last smiled prior to attending the school. His mind went vacuous whenever he called upon the memory. He does, however, remember having a nose stuck within a book at all times with his mother's voice in the background.

Still, the emotions you stirred meandered in a questioning trail. The abstruse truth was far from his knowledgeable mind, but he wasn't too frightened by that.

His reverie halted as your hands peeled him away from his desk, lightly tugging off the accessories that clung to his person. Afterward, you gave Riddle the time to properly dress into his night clothing.

You were already in bed when you felt the mattress dip in weight. Instinctively, his body arched to meet yours, hands - now freed from its gloves - moving around your waist. His pulse echoed in his ear as your chest pressed against his own, your head finding solace on his shoulder.

The gaze you sent him heated his body far more than the thick blanket did. It was punctuated by the fanning of your breathing - caressing his collarbone at regular intervals. Without realizing it, his hand had gravitated to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered. He didn't want to lose your touch just yet.

" Can I get a goodnight kiss?" He chatised himself with how shy his voice left him; however, it complimented the reddening of his cheeks even in the poorly lit setting.

You laughed softly to yourself, your "of course" barely audible. Leaning up, you pressed your lips to his carefully - he still had the faint sweet taste of jam from earlier. Riddle's hand traveled down to the dip of your back, holding you in place even as you withdrew.

" Another one, please?"

He was terribly pliant to your kisses despite being unable to admit it outloud. Even your touches yielded a similar effect and even more so your words. His penchant to your affection was unmatched, and your love felt like slices of dessert. His stomach grows full yet perpetually more greedy for each taste. And his heart feels even fuller in yearning of you. Just you.

He has heard a saying before that home was where the heart is. When envisioning home, his hometown residence always came to his mind in full clarity. The same place that stripped him of his empathy and tailored him to a life curated not by his own wants but his mother's.

And yet, he was also greeted by your gentleness. Reconstructing his marred understanding of emotions with patience and rewarding him with your love - even when he was greatly so undeserving of it.

As you press pecks along his warming cheeks, Riddle couldn't help but wonder if home was where you were. You had ownership of his heart, that much was certain. And you cradled it gently even when his demons surfaced.

And for a second, he pondered how much of a future he held with you. He questioned how much of his reverie was fatuous thinking as a means of satisfying his heart and how much it would be truly possible. Selfishly, he made a silent plead for it to be latter.

But for now, he centered his foucs back to you. For right now home was with you in this bed - smothering him kisses and leaving him breathless until sleep eventually overtook him.

He hopes to have you in his dreams.

A/n; sorry if this is just a bleh of words. I've been writing for the past idk hours. Poorly proofread too

Feedback is appreciated !!

Anyways, happy birthday, love/p. I hope this made you smile:)

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