#he'd refuse to help with the orange at that moment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sturnsdoll · 7 months ago

Text

NAUGHTY OR NICE ❄ -m.s, c.s

part two here

pairing: dom bf!matt x sub!reader, dom!chris x reader

summary: when your boyfriend matt decides that a vibrator at dinner with his brothers is a good punishment for your attitude, you don't expect to end up being teased by someone other than him. warnings: vibrator, semi-public, cheating!reader, fingering, dirty talk, humiliation, orgasm denial.

word count: 3,598

"pink" + reader speaking, "blue" = matt speaking, "orange" = chris speaking.

matt and you are supposed to meet his brothers for dinner in about a half an hour. swiping gloss across your lips, you watch through the mirror at matt idly pacing around behind you. he's picking up random things, checking himself in the mirror. your used to it, he's typically like this before going out anywhere. you close up your gloss, tossing it down onto your vanity with an exaggerated sigh.

with that matt looks over at you, annoyance already on his features "what now?", his tone is soft but still holds irritation. all damn day everything's been a problem for you. and when something upsets you, it somehow becomes a him problem too.

you give him a bit of a side eye in the mirror, a slight eye roll to follow "nothin', jeez." you respond passively, getting up to go grab your purse and matt continues watching you with a dissaproving look. "there a problem?" you add with a raise of your brow. matt shrugs "you gonna be like this all night?" he asks, slightly amused but also a little over the attitude you've been throwing at him today. he watches your pretty eyes when you look back at him "i'm not being like anything." you defend. directly after your defence, you bend down to pickup your purse and hear matt sigh with a "that's it". -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

the drive there, all you could do was wait. wait to see when he'd chose to torture you. the silicone of the vibrator was tightly fit between your panties and your (already embarrassingly wet) pussy, specifically nudging your clit too close for comfort. when you matt pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant you, him and his brothers were gonna be meeting at for dinner, he refused to acknowledge your anxious glances toward him any time he'd open his phone. every tap of his fingers against the screen had you anticipating the buzzing against your clit, but thus far he hasn't done it hasn't come.

entering the restaurant, you were in awe of the gorgeous christmas decor of green and red around the restauraunt. cinnamon sticks in a little bowl with bows around them on the front desk, a green tree off near the hall to the washrooms, chandelier with lights. it's gorgeous.

you were both lead to your table where nick and chris were already sat laughing and talking. there wasn't much greeting to be done, you just kind of took a seat across from them with matt next to you and hopped into conversation smoothly with your boyfriends brothers.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

the food was amazing, everyone having a great time. chris and nick are your bestfriends by natural selection of matt being your boyfriend so you've grown to be comfy around them. not this comfy though. it was still in the back of your mind that matt was more than capable of turning the toy on whenever the hell he pleased but till now, you'd done a good job just trying to enjoy dinner and forget about it.

currently you're mid conversation with chris, giggling at something stupid he said when abruptly, you go silent. the buzz that comes to your clit is low, gentle. but it's still beyond distracting. you can't help how your eyes grow wide for a moment as you swallow thickly. fucking matt.

chris catches your sudden change of expression and mood. he makes a funny confused face in response to your expression, breathily laughing "what?" in question. now chris is thinking maybe he'd said something outlandish and not realized it.

chris catching the change in your mood only makes your stomach drop further. you deadstare your boyfriend's youngest brother, zoned out in embarassment, feeling clueless on how to respond when there's a god damn vibrator on you in public. but your strange behaviour was cut short by matt's slender ring clad fingers giving a squeeze to your knee. quickly taking the hint, you smile with a soft laugh "oh i just remembered last week when that lady refused to give nick his order cause she thought he was lying about it being his" your almost proud of yourself for thinking of something so fast.

chris seems to believe it, responding with a small "hm". however despite his smile and nod, chris has this slightly intense stare, different from his usually childish and playful demeanour. you assume your paranoid because how would chris know something was up?

"omg and then she did the same thing to that poor girl!" nick's voice breaks your curiosity of chris's stare. your sure you can handle this for a little, just a light buzz. but quite abruptly the buzzing intensifies. you grab at matt's hand, nails digging against the back of his palm as you force yourself to respond to nick with a short and shaky "yeah." it only eggs matt on though, he thinks your reactions are adorably pathetic. before nick can even really notice how shaky your voice was, the waiter approached the table to ask if anyone needed anything. you leave nick and chris to speak to the waiter, taking the chance to look at your boyfriend with a look that shows your embarassment and irriation. in response you just get a sickeningly sweet smile, one that causes you to shut your legs together, frustration and arousal driving you udderly insane.

before your knee's can even touch he pinches your thigh, his smile dropping slightly in warning. "fuck you" you mouth to him stupidly. matt gives a playful pout, forcibly pulling your leg so that you spread em', preventing you from any relief outside of what he chooses to provide you through the toy. "you really gonna act like that when santa's coming to town?" he jokes quietly, almost laughing at his own dumbass joke but instead his mouth just turns up in a slight smile, then you watch him take a quick glance at his phone.

holy fuck. you nearly fold over at the leg tremling, panty wettingly intense buzz that he suddenly inflicts on your clit. your acrylics immedietly digging into his hand again, you look over and catch his amused and adoring glance to you. that evil bastard fucking loves this. it's a bit of a power trip for him to watch you squirming in your seat, all angry at him.

matt's gaze was doing nothing to help, merely mocking you. in a desperate attempt to not give anything away, your teeth caught your lip with a gasp before any other lewd noise could escape. you shift your hips uncomfortably as your eyes leave matt's to see if his brothers are paying any mind to you two.

you felt relief at nick's typical yapping, he was clearly clueless to your situation. but then your eyes meet chris's.

he's clenching his jaw slightly with an unreadable but intense look in his eyes. what's his problem? well, apparently your body doesn't care what his glare is for, because it's enough for your poor neglected cunt to start to clench around nothing besides the pooling liquid dripping into your panties.

you let out a shaky breath that's just shy of a whine. lucky for you it's loud as hell in the restaurant. you mentally curse yourself for letting something as simple as a look from your boyfriends brother get you worked up. then again, what won't get you hornier with that god forsaken buzzing that has you struggling to sit still? you're about to resort to distracting yourself with nick's yapping when the buzzing abruptly cuts short.

you almost let out a sigh of relief. finally a break.

then your jaw drops and your knee jumps up and hits under the table. you didn't even know this vibrator could be this strong.. but as matt tortorously turns it to the highest setting, you can't stop the small whine from slipping your throat.

in panic you look between the three boys. nick is somehow still oblivious, thank god. matt's too busy pretending like he isn't literally getting you off infront of his brothers as he picks at his food. chris is also presumably distracted with his meal, though he shoots you a questioning glance when your eyes pass over him.

clearing your throat, you quickly stand up, announcing that you have to go to the bathroom. you rush right off before anyone can say anything.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

before you can even close the bathroom door you hear a ding from your phone. taking a second, you take a deep breath and squeeze your thighs together with a soft whine, eyes shutting as you dig your phone from your purse.

[ imessage from: matt <3]

-if you turn it off , touch yourself or cum then you're in trouble sweetheart. pathetically so, just reading his threatening text has your knee's weak. you lean one hand forward onto the counter, your thighs clenching tighter together.

[message to: matt <3]

-please it's too much. chris and nick are gonna find out if i come back out there like this

[message from: matt <3]

-behave or i'll make you cum infront of both of them istg

the lewd image of being forced into an orgasm infront of chris at the dinner table creates both a humiliating and pleasurable ache in your stomach. trying to force the thought away hardly worked, already dripping at the thought.

you have to compose yourself. that thought must only be arousing because your so desperate right?.. right.

you look yourself in the mirror, passing off your glossy eyes as you breathe in deeply. you reach your hand beneath your dress to pull your panties down just a little so the vibrator isn't so tightly pressed against you. insantly you sigh in relief at the severly lessened stimulation. straightening yourself out, mentally you prep yourself to get back to the group, opening the bathroom door with the best poker face you can put on.

instantly you're met with two hands roughly shoving you back inside the washroom, the door being locked instantly.

"what the hell are you two up to?"

you swear you experience whiplash at the complete shock as you look up at chris with confusion. chris is staring right back down at you with an almost proud but soft little smile on his face. "hello?" he gives a gentle tap to your arm to urge you to talk. you just shake your head, feeling bewildered "nothing?" you don't even sound sure of yourself when your respond.

chris tilts his head to give you a stare of annoyance at the blatant lie. little did you know that chris had figured you two out much much earlier. his voice comes more accusatory than he intends "you think i'm stupid?" he asks.

you stare up at chris, trying to look irritated at his intrusion into the bathroom but honestly your eyes are that of a lost puppy as the buzzing in your underwear is still growing the ache in your stomach. your legs are squeezing as you struggle to not completely lose it. "and?" you try to seem unphased but there's a shake to your tone.

"and-" he begins in a mocking tone "i know matt doesn't have some fucking vibrator app for himself." he finishes with a cocky yet still adoringly soft look as he watched the panic in your eyes. chris doesn't want to scare you away so his hand starts at your shoulder, thumb gently stroking your shoulder to soothe the panic that's coming with your brain completely short circuiting.

you want to ask how he knows that but chris steps a little closer and you back against the sink counter, both slightly intimidated as well as just udderly so confused you can't really think properly. chris's voice break's into your frozen state "you guys have some freaky thing for getting off in public?" he questions you.

"what? no that's-" chris doesn't quite seem 100 percent sure of himself, almost like he's slightly scared that you'll just think he's a complete weirdo so he keeps his movements slow and his voice stays on the softer side as he speaks to you "you got yourslef in trouble or something then?" he asks tauntingly. his eyes glitter with amusement when he watches you freeze up. looking around, your mouth opens again and again like you wanna argue or deny it but instead you just scoff in disbelief, your eyes rolling at his audacity.

that was enough of an answer for him. he lets out a small hum in acknowledgement, like he's amused by you being punished by his brother. his hand slowly slides down from your arm to the bottom hem of your dress. you find yourself unable to do anything but follow his movement with your eyes, a small breathy whine leaving as the buzzing in your panties continues to make this all the more arousing.

"getting off with your boyfriends brother less than a foot away at dinner is kind fucked up not gonna lie." as chris speaks he uses his other hand to pull the fabric of your dress at the waist, tugging it up a little until you're just barely covered below the waist. his thumb slips beneath the material to rub gentle circles on your thigh "this okay? you tell me to stop and i'll leave n' pretend like this never happened, i promise." his eyes give a comfortingly concerned look, his hand freezing momentarily.

you severly hesitate, a shaky breath leaving your lips, feeling the slick spreading all across your pussy, panties and upper thigh from the nonstop vibrations on your sensitibe bud, now combined with chris's teasing. this is all too much at once. you're starting to feel lightheaded, not knowing how much longer you can hold off either crying or cumming right here on the spot. "matt would mm- hate me chris" you worry verbally to the youngest triplet. chris just shakes his head, chosing to lighten the mood with a joke as per usual "don't worry about him right now. you gonna be naughty or nice for me? cause santa doesn't have to be the only thing coming if you'll let me touch you." there's a shit eating grin on his lips now as he slips his hand just a litter further under your dress.

under other circumstances you would've laughed at his terrible joke. instead you meet his eyes, a suble smile on your face. you know you need to make a decision. guilt bubbles in your stomach, as well as the need to cum. your arousal speaking before you can, you blurt out a "please" your eyes begging chris right along with your words.

chris instantly smirks, stepping closer till there's nearly no more of your space for him to invade "so polite." he teases, his knuckles softly brushing up her thigh till he reaches her panties, where he pauses, his knuckles brushing along the fabric to feel the vicious buzzing. experimentally he uses two fingers to press it up against her clit just a little closer.

your hands both come behind you to grip at the counter top as your legs twitch, unable to hold off your physical reaction to the torture anymore. "ah-" you cry gently as one hand comes off the counter to grip at his arm, not to stop him but for some kind of support.

chris tuts at you "poor thing, bet he's been neglecting you all night" chris says, more so to himself as he shakes his head in genuine dissapointment of his brothers teasing tactics. then in a swift motion, his finger hooks around the front of your panties and tugs them down to your thighs. finally, the vibrator comes off of you. chris's eyes lock on yours for affirmation to continue and he finds your eyes pleading with him already.

you have the sudden thought.. why hasn't matt come to check on you at this point? or texted? your thoughts are quickly are ripped from your head when the buzzing returns once more, chris placing his palm over the vibrator, pressing it right onto your poor swollen clit again.

a strangled moan is forced loudly from your lips at the overstimulating feeling coming back all at once, your back arches off the counter as you look down, shaking your head. "chris no wait- fuckk, i'm gonna cum" you beg for him to stop, but not because you don't want to. for some reason your willing to sleep with matt's brother but you draw the line at cumming without his permission?? pussy.

chris watches as your hips squirm back against the counter, your face scrunched up like you can't take it. he raises an eyebrow at your panic and he subtly smiles, too sweet for the situation your both in. "so?" he urges an explanation with confusion and amusement at your struggle.

you look away from him, nails digging into his arm as embarassment eats you alive at your reason why. chris is having none of it though. he leans down to force you to meet his gaze in demand of an answer. a whine slips when you go to speak, but you manage nonetheless. "not allowed." you state, your eyes finally meeting chris's again.

he's enthralled by your obedience to matt's 'rules' and the guilty little look in your eyes. chris sighs, shaking his head as he brings his free hand to gently cup the side of your face "well i say you are, so go ahead." he says like this is completely normal.

before you can even consider responding, two of his fingers shove into your fluttering hole, his palm still pressing the toy to your clit. you cry out at the attention to your poor pussy that you've been craving all night, hips pushing off the counter to chase chris's hand. whines and choked sobs leave your lips.

chris taps the underside of your jaw "someone's gonna hear ya" he points out with a warning look, then his fingers curl up into your walls to force another response from you. and oh does it ever. you lean your head forwards into his chest with a desperate whine that makes chris's jeans grow a little tighter on him.

he gently cradles the back of your head with his large hand as he talks you through it "oh i knoww." he says with a mocking tone to his voice, a devilish smirk on his face that you can't see as he holds your face into the chest of his hoodie to muffle your cries of pleasure.

"g- gonna fucking- oh god chris" your brain is so far from working as he fucks his fingers into you, alternating between curling them at the perfect spot inside and then thrusting them quickly. the sound of you saying his name is enough to have his dick fighting against his pants. he wants nothing more than to stuff you full of him but this isn't about him, the only thing he needs right now is to watch you hold onto him pathetically whilst crying his name for more.

with the hand cradling your head, his fingers gently massage your scalp. the soothing nature is a vile contrast to the way his other hand completely ruins you. this only furthers the haze of euphoria your in, whining desperately as you clutch onto chris for life. if it weren't for him and the counter you'd be a puddle on the floor and chris knows it as he feels your walls squeezing in desperation for release. he knows that's his cue.

you experience the most horrible whiplash as within a second, chris's hand comes out from under your dress, the vibrator with it and all your left with is your cum dripping out of your fluttering hole.

instantly your head lifts off chris's chest. you watch up at him with pleading eyes "chris." you hate how you sound begging for his attention back.

the hand not holding your now turned off, soaked vibrator, is soothing your hair out. he holds the vibrator up to your mouth, tapping it onto your pouted lips. shamefully you open your mouth, allowing him to urge the toy inside for you to clean it of your own mess.

chris's eyes glimmer with satisfaction as he watches your gaze, eager to please him in favour of needing to cum. which is why you nearly wanna cry when he removes his other hand from your hair and brings it down to pull your panties back up, slipping the now completely still vibrator back into the fabric.

"i'm sorry pretty, but the only thing i want more than to watch you cum is to know you'll be left on edge all night thinking about me instead of him" chris states with a grin, giving a frustratingly casual pat to your shoulder before unlocking the door and opening it to leave. you're about to pull him back and cuss him the fuck out when suddenly you see your boyfriend leaning on the wall right outside the door, shaking his head at you as chris walks passed him with a cocky smirk. it all sets in and you feel more embarassed than you ever have in your life. they fucking planned it. matt let chris come fingerfuck you like some slut.

"you're un-fucking-believable." matt states, although not seeming as mad as he should. you have no choice in the matter as he grabs you arm and begins both of your journey to the car.

you fell right into their trap.

.....someone's getting coal this christmas.

lmk if y'all want a part two??

tags: @pleasebendmeoverxxx @mattsrod @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @pettydollie @sturniol0s @6ix9inewiturmom @sonicsmacks @fratbrochrisgf @eyelovedher89 @bernardsbendystraws @riversandwinds @ilovemenwithlonghairr @chrissweatytoes @courta13

#sturnsdoll #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chratt #chratt smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #mathew sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic

1K notes · View notes

just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 9 months ago

Text

A family thing

Written for the September pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles blog

Prompt: Anniversary

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Recovery; Disabled Eddie; POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Implied sexual content; Domestic fluff; Found family

The sounds coming from the kitchen pull Wayne from his sleep much earlier than he'd like after a night shift. He lies awake for a while, cursing the government. Sure, they covered Eddie’s medical bills and bought them the new trailer, but would it have killed them to get one with thicker walls? He doesn't need to hear everything the boy gets up to.

He's almost managed to drift off again when a clatter and a string of swear words make him shoot upright. He barrels out into the corridor that separates the living space from the bedrooms, almost colliding with Steve, who has just barged from Eddie’s room. His eyes are bleary, his hair a tousled mess. He's wearing boxers and a familiar guitar pick necklace, and that is it.

“Ed?” Wayne asks, ignoring how Steve freezes at the sight of him. “What happened?”

Eddie, on the kitchen floor in a heap of gangly limbs and fallen crutches, groans. “Wayne! You weren't supposed to wake up.”

“Yeah, you're making that kinda hard,” Wayne mumbles, eyeing the shattered plates and spilled food on the ground. Toast and bacon and pancakes. There's something stuck in Eddie’s hair that looks like scrambled eggs.

“What the hell?” Steve mutters, bridging the few steps into the kitchen and dropping into a crouch beside Eddie. Wayne stays where he is and watches. The way Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist to pull him up, careful not to hurt him. How Eddie slings bony arms over Steve’s shoulders, fingers grazing the scars on the boy's back.

“Why didn't you ask me for help?” Steve asks. The rising sun basks the kitchen in oranges and golds, and for a second, Wayne is overcome by the thought that he mustn't blink, or they'll vanish. “I could've-”

“What, on this highest of holidays?” Eddie asks, gesturing dramatically as Steve lowers him into one of the kitchen chairs. “Have you no respect for tradition? It is my responsibility and my duty to do this alone.”

Steve blinks, then looks over at Wayne.

“Okay? I don't get it.”

Eddie cackles, gently pushing him aside to beckon Wayne closer.

“Happy Uncle's Day!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne grumbles, bending at the hip so that Eddie can hug him, but there's an annoying sting behind his eyes. For a moment all he can think is how close he came to losing all of this.

“What the fuck is Uncle's Day?” Steve asks. He's eyeing the calendar on the wall like he's expecting it to spout an extra holiday.

Eddie scoffs. “Only the most important holiday of the year? You need to stay up to date on-”

“When Ed was nine years old,” Wayne explains, making his way over to the coffee pot, “he came home one day, seething and spitting venom, ‘cause his teacher had them making Father's Day cards.”

“Why would I be making that asshole a fucking card?” Eddie grumbles. A pink blush has erupted from the collar of his shirt, but Wayne isn’t sure if it's because of the childhood story or because of the way Steve has pulled out the chair next to his and is finger-combing bits of egg from his curls. “The only thing I should've given him is a kick in-”

“That's exactly what he said back then,” Wayne says, pouring himself a cup and leaning against the counter. “So we came up with an idea.”

Steve frowns at Eddie. “Uncle's Day?”

Eddie beams. “The anniversary of the day Wayne took me in.”

“Dunno if took in is the right term,” Wayne hums around his first sip. “You pretty much let yourself in and refused to leave.”

Eddie waves him off, as if to say that he won’t argue about the technicalities. Steve’s eyes, meanwhile, have grown large.

“Wait,” he says. “That's today? Why didn’t- … I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

Eddie cocks his head at him, smile bright and incredibly fond. It makes a familiar warmth spread behind Wayne’s collarbone, one that has nothing at all to do with the coffee. “Why would you be sorry?”

Steve gestures awkwardly at the mess that is the kitchen. “This is a family thing. If you’d told me, I’d have left you alone.”

Eddie laughs. On the tabletop, his fingers find Steve’s.

“Exactly,” he says. “This is a family thing. You're right where you belong. Ain't he, Wayne?”

Wayne regards them - two men littered in battle scars, leaning into each other in the hazy morning light - and thinks of a hurt little boy who was too scared to let anyone in.

“Can't argue with that,” he says.

Steve's face lights up as if he'd just invited him to spend Christmas morning.

“I- … thank you,” he stutters, and Wayne gets a feeling that he, too, is still learning to let people in. “Let me clean this up, and then I'll make us new-”

“Stevie,” Eddie says, and hooks one finger into the necklace to pull him back. His next words are a murmur against the shell of Steve's ear, so low Wayne almost misses them. “Maybe get dressed first, darling.”

The last thing Wayne sees of Steve as he flees into Eddie’s room is the blush coloring his neck and shoulders.

“Do you have to tease him like that?” he asks, starting to gather the broken plates off the ground.

Eddie shrugs. “He can take it. I think that's a basic requirement for joining this family?”

His eyes find Wayne's, searching for a reaction.

“Ed,” he says, picking up the crutches and handing them over. “My only requirement ever was for you to be happy. I think your boy has long proven himself in that regard. Now, run over to the Mayfields and ask if we can borrow some eggs, yeah?”

As Eddie bolts out with a blush matching Steve's, Wayne settles into the newly vacated chair, allowing himself a long sip of coffee and a content sigh.

It's gonna be a good Uncle's Day.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles 2024

645 notes · View notes

maladaptivewritings · 4 months ago

Text

Head-canons about Ghost

Including: Appearance, domestic life quirks, and more

Simon Riley is an elusive man, unknown appearance and private life. If he were to have a life outside of the military, so to combat this predicament, this is my list of HC's and some reasonings.

Appearance

His hair is a perpetually in the awkward growth phase, he gets a buzz right before deployment. He doesn't get it cut when he returns, just letting it be. The only routine self-maintenance is shaving his face, he hates the feeling of facial hair against his mask.

Speaking of hair, his hair is a mousey blond. Growing up it was closer to bright blond until he was around fifteen; when he was assumed dead he dyed it a chestnut brown. The first time it was dyed it stained his ears for over a week, he didn't know if he would laugh or cry.

Dark eyes, like devoid of light unless the sun hits it perfectly. You'll feel him watching you from a mile away. When the light does hit it, they are a stunning ochre.

His sleeve was done during a slightly manic moment, when he returned from one of his first long missions. He did it in two sittings, most of the flames were done in the second.

He's 6'3, barefoot and 6'5 with his gear on. He wasn't tall growing up, shooting up the summer he turned 17.

Scars, the majority clustered on his hands. Picking at scabs in the field, he fidgets on the little knicks and gashes if left alone on rounds. He doesn't really he does it. His oldest is a gash on his brow, no fun story just tripped as a child, got cut when his dad started throwing shit busted his face.

His Skin is a strange neutral tone, if he were to go out in the sun he'd tan easily. If he were to tan, it would reveal freckles across his nose bridge.

Thinking about his nose, it's crooked and bent from many uneven breaks healing over time. Scar from his lip just barely reaching it.

Domestically

He hates grocery shopping, but refuses to be a hermit. He know's that he could get them delivered, but he’s too stubborn and will show up to a small corner store wearing sunglasses at night with a mask and headphones. The clerk knows not to question it at this point.

Doesn't often drink beer or wine, whiskey of course is his vice. Though if dragged to the bar he will order tequila shots, and if he actually for once gets drunk he'll order a cocktail. (Soap has a photo of Simon drinking a fishbowl)

Smells like cigarettes no matter what, He will wear cologne when home from deployment and he's mastered how to pair it. No one knows this or cares, it's his little secret. The cologne he often wears is a sweet orange, with vanilla. Laswell got it for him, She saw his traumatized ass and decided to try and help.

Refuses to go to therapy, depending on how long he's home for he may meet with Price for 'coffee' every few weeks and chat. Simon thinks Price does this with the other guys. He doesn't.

Orders food atleast once a week, normally Thursdays. Theres a pub a block away he will pick it up from on his jog, same meal every time and same time every week.

Has the cilantro tastes like soap gene, Gaz does make fun of this.

Has no clue how to feed himself when he gets back from deployment, will either snack all day or not eat at all.

Weirdly into dinosaur movies, you'd think it was a bit but genuinely loves Jurassic park.

Specifically likes rock bands that most hate because they don't fit the mold. This is mainly being petty and liking what his father would hate.

Deployment Simon

The mask is soaked in hydrogen peroxide before he left, he cleans and mends it himself. He can sew, just not well. The skull is attached with fishing wire.

Hates coffee, would rather deal with the caffeinated gum. Soap once got him a Frap as an experiment one time when they're on base. He loves them.

Traumatized as fuck, he legit will dissociate when moving locations. Price only knows, neither says anytime about it.

Dry Humor to cope, most of the jokes came from his old history teacher in secondary school. He was a former soldier during the Falklands war, his time in the military was brief because his leg was severely injured. The only good role model Simon had.

Never personalizes gear, especially guns. Finds it dumb when he see's it being done.

In his mind will make jokes about whats going on. This had led to him accidentally saying "chat clip that" after he beat his personal record for kills before being noticed. Soap will not let him live this down.

His expectations of living to see tomorrow goes from 100 to 0 real quick, willing to take tasks no one else wants. If it weren't for Riley joining on certain missions, he'd definitely be in a pauper's feild.

Mentally,

Should be on so many mood stabilizers, claims it would just be a nuisance. Medicates with energy drinks and cigarettes.

High-functioning autism, undiagnosed.

C-ptsd, obviously

High-functioning depression and anxiety.

Talks to Price, sometimes Laswell about everything going on. He doesn't realize that he's venting.

No one lets him drive, too many suicide jokes.

Very petty, Cat-of-a-man. Will force himself to like things that his father would hate, as well as to prove a point to others.

Only has like a handful of colorful things in his office and home. Most its gifts from the rest of the guys or cards from the lady across the street who he may shovel the snow for.

One-Sided beef with southern U.S. Only due to Graves anymore, but he does appreciate Sweet-Tea.

289 notes · View notes

bumblesimagines · 6 months ago

Text

The Pup and The Cub

Request: Yes or No

Summary: While (Y/N) is eager to spend time with and help an old friend, he can't stand to be around his adoptive daughter. Until one night changes things.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Witcher warnings, sexual content, added a little bit of ✨spice✨, mentions of blood, accidental blood kink?? OOPS, virginity loss on both sides

I would've finished days ago if the universe hadn't decided to say fuck you each time I tried working on it

~~~

Summer was at its peak and (Y/N) wished for nothing more than to lay in the soft grass like a snake eager to bask in the sun rays peering down at them from the vibrant and cloudless sky. The baby blue of daytime was fading into a familiar shade of orange that reminded him of flames, mixing and swirling with a soft pink as the blazing sun slowly descended behind the trees.

His nose tickled when he inhaled the fresh air, and the comforting floral scents wafting from the wildflowers scattered around the expanding fields surrounding them reached him. Their vibrant colors splashed against the green sea and he watched them dance with the gentle breezes that blew by, a sense of serenity settling on his chest.

It felt nice to take a break, he admitted to himself. His childhood and early teen years were spent cooped up in Kaer Morhen with Vesemir, and while the mountain blossomed with life during spring and summer, it was nothing compared to the beauty around him now. He felt as if he could sit and stare out into the wilderness for hours without the startling howling winds of the mountain or Vesemir's grumbling.

His father had been reluctant to let him go so far from Kaer Morhen, but Geralt needed him now more than ever, even if it meant dealing with his adoptive daughter, the vexing Cub of Cintra.

In all his years, (Y/N) had only ever seen Geralt smile and laugh so freely with his brethren, with his real family. Those rumbling laughs where he'd tilt his head back and find a fleeting moment of relaxation untypical of the usually guarded witcher were reserved for them, not for the girl.

Ciri was only around because of one stupid mistake Geralt had made years prior: taunting destiny and facing the consequences in the form of a spoilt little royal. He found victory in the knowledge Geralt had pointedly ignored her existence until she needed his protection.

He remembered the cold winter day he met her when he strode into Kaer Morhen with Eskel, eager to escape the chilling winds and reunite with his family, only to take note of the figure bundled up in furs giggling into her cup like the little girl she was (yes, (Y/N) only had two years on her, but that hardly mattered in his opinion) and flaunting her title of princess before them when questioned. Chin tilted up and brow arched challengingly, she made his skin prickle.

"Who brought the girl up here?" He'd asked in disbelief. It was against their code to reveal the secret location of the keep to anyone other than their brethren, so he naturally looked toward Lambert and Coen for an explanation, assuming it was all another prank from them that Vesemir was begrudgingly ignoring for the sake of their long-awaited reunion.

Instead, she answered, lips almost pulled into a scowl and speaking words that had him turning toward Geralt with furrowed brows. "The girl is Princess Cirilla of Cintra. And I'm with Geralt."

(Y/N) scoffed just thinking about it.

Yennefer, he could tolerate. Geralt loved her, that much he knew well, and he knew how much it ate at the older witcher with her betrayal still aching like a wound refusing to heal. She'd groveled for days and weeks, practically begging for his forgiveness in different ways, begging him to speak at least one word that wasn't related to their next destination, but Geralt was a notoriously stubborn man.

He was strong, stronger than (Y/N), at least. He wasn't sure how long he'd last if he were on the receiving end of her pretty violet eyes and velvety words.

Yennefer was humorous, too, with her snark and sharp wit that often left him grinning from ear to ear and Geralt quietly scoffing as if nobody saw the brief smirk that always flashed over his rough features before he remembered he was supposed to be mad at her. She was a spitfire with a kind heart, effortlessly dancing between aloofness and warmth. He gave it another week before Geralt's resolve vanished.

With Geralt and Yennefer watching over Ciri as if she were a precious little jewel and not a princess who by all means should've died when her kingdom had been sacked and lit ablaze by Nilfgaard, it was up to (Y/N) to watch their backs for them. And Ciri, too, he supposed. He'd still happily watch her slip off her horse and faceplant into the dirt, though. Hell, it'd probably make his day brighter.

Death followed her like a plague, she'd said so herself. It was better to keep his distance than risk being one of the many casualties left in her wake. Besides, he'd never forget how close she'd managed to get to killing both him and Vesemir while possessed by Voleth Meir.. nor the lives taken that day.

The sound of laughter drew his attention away from the scenery before him, his eyes immediately locking on Ciri and Geralt as they shared laughter, smiles, and words forgotten in the breeze. They were supposed to be feeding Roach and Desert to ensure the horses were ready in case they had to make a last-minute escape. (Y/N) huffed. She was such a distraction.

It irked him just how much she looked like Geralt too, how easily she could pass as his, and he despised all of it: from her ashen-gray hair verging on nearly being a pale blonde, her green eyes that sparkled like emeralds when the light directly hit them, her pale skin that easily flushed red when she grew embarrassed or frustrated to the way she bristled like an enraged kitten and never allowed herself to back down from his comments.

His stomach twisted just staring at her scrawny figure. Witchers weren't supposed to meddle in human business nor their stupid politics. It was part of their code to remain neutral, to remain free from the clutches of politics, and to avoid falling into loyalties with ruling governments. Geralt rarely, if ever, broke their code willingly, and now he did it without thinking twice for a measly human.

She was going to get him killed. She was going to get all of them killed. And for what? A kingdom that no longer belonged to her family?

"You could've saved yourself a lot of trouble by not coming." Yennefer's voice rang clear behind him and she entered his peripheral, her raven locks clashing with the greenery around them and naturally demanding attention. Everything about her demanded attention; that was simply the way of a mage like her. Deadly beautiful and with a bite stronger than her bark. "I've seen you pout more times than I've heard you speak."

(Y/N) felt his skin warm. "You know better than anyone how obnoxious nobles are. They love prancing around enacting their power over others. They're ungrateful and-"

"Ciri is but a girl and you are but a boy. You have both lived vastly different lives and been raised by vastly different people." Her brows lifted in a manner that reminded him of Vesemir, and he felt a lesson inbound. She placed her hand over his shoulder and brushed her fingernails over his cheek delicately, tittering on affectionately. "Ciri is a princess, yes, but she's not ungrateful, and you know it. She believes you are cruel and a bully, but I know you're more sensitive than you let on. Perhaps you will find more in common if you give her a chance."

"Unlikely."

"Don't be so sure." Yennefer squeezed him lightly, the hint of a smile on her face. "Come inside, supper is ready."

Despite the fact they were on the run, the past couple of weeks had been the best (Y/N) had ever eaten. He often settled for simple meals he could create from things he bought at the market or meat he caught cooked over a fire, but the food they ate now was made with much gentler care. Mixed with herbs and spices, he practically inhaled the rabbit stew, savoring it and listening to the idle chatter between Geralt and Ciri.

He thought about Vesemir and how he was doing. If he was well after the chaos that'd erupted in Kaer Morhen, after losing half the men he helped raise from boys and parting ways with the child he took in as a babe. They'd parted ways plenty of times before; it was simply how the life of a witcher went. But this time felt different, and they'd both sensed it in the air, as if something big was on its way.

"Well," Yennefer exhaled, dabbing her lips with a napkin and rising from the table. "I believe we should check the perimeters, ensure nothing is amiss."

Geralt grunted. "(Y/N)-"

"I will go with you, Geralt." Yennefer interrupted swiftly and his golden eyes cut to her, narrowing with confusion and then squinting with suspicion. She stared at him, seemingly communicating whatever was going on in her head with her eyes alone and leaving (Y/N) and Ciri to try and decipher what was going on.

Geralt took in a deep breath and stood up, his hand curling around the sheath of his sword. "Fine." He nodded, his silver strands bouncing off his cheeks where he'd begun growing stubble. His eyes darted to (Y/N) and the intensity in them softened, the corner of his lip lifting. "Be good to Ciri, Pup."

(Y/N) recalled a time he watched a mother usher her child to another boy, quietly insisting that the two needed to get along before she plastered on a smile and claimed it'd been her son's idea to share his toys despite the clear reluctance on his face. He concluded Yennefer was the mother, him the son, and Ciri the other child completely oblivious to the plan in action. (Y/N) would rather choke than play along.

Ciri lingered near the window, peering out of it as if she'd be able to see anything through the pitch darkness enveloping the cottage. The moon remained hidden by the towering trees, and he doubted the two wouldn't be back before it reached the top of the sky. They'd never leave Ciri for that long, no matter how much they trusted him to take care of her.

"Do you think they're going to make up?" She asked, her fingers busying themselves with undoing her braid.

The tableware clattered when he propped his feet up. "I don't know."

Surely she could hear the irritation in his voice, his lack of interest in speaking with her. He liked pretending as if she were just another noble with a head full of air, but he'd seen the different ways her brain worked, how quickly she managed to adapt to her surroundings.

She suckled her bottom lip into her mouth and dug her teeth into it. Was she nervous? He couldn't really tell, even if she almost constantly wore her emotions on her sleeve for the world to see. Her eyes always spoke before her mouth did.

"It's about time they do, don't you think?" She raked her hand through her hair and undid the small knots that'd formed before pushing her hair over her shoulder to rest along her back.

"I don't know."

Ciri scowled. "Do you have anything else to say other than 'I don't know'?"

He smirked and her eyes narrowed. "I don't know."

She made a noise in the back of her throat akin to a low, irritated groan and finally peeled herself away from the window to collect the plates on the table, taking them to the sink where she gave the sleeves of her tunic a hard tug and began scrubbing the plates. If she scrubbed them any harder, they'd probably crack and break into pieces.

He chuckled under his breath at her annoyance and reached down to his hips, unclasping his holster and setting it over the table before freeing his dagger from its sheath and inspecting the blade. His fingers ran along the cool metal, eyes tracking the distorted reflection staring back at him. He swore his eyes glimmered a different color and felt his chest tighten.

The loud sound of clattering brought his gaze upward at Ciri, catching her bracing herself against the counter while her wet hand rubbed against her pantleg hard enough to leave a streak of pink that slowly faded. "Why do you hate me so much?" She asked, voice nearing a frustrated hiss. "What have I done to you?"

"Exist, for starters." (Y/N) muttered immediately, uncaringly, his attention returning to the dagger as he pressed his thumb into the chestnut brown hilt. "You strolled into Kaer Morhen, my home, and proceeded to paint the fucking floors with the blood of my brothers. You damn near painted it with my blood, too, and my father's."

The frustration on her face faded and her nostrils flared with a deep inhale. The guilt was heavy in her eyes, her fingers curling and uncurling to hide the way they trembled. "I-I didn't-" Her voice cracked and she looked away, her lips pressing tightly together. "I didn't want to. I-I didn't even realize what I was doing. You know that. She had me trapped in a dream. I would have never done that-"

"But you did.. and half the men who helped raise me are dead, Princess." (Y/N) tossed his dagger aside and dragged his feet off the table, planting themselves on the floor with thumps. His arms moved to rest over his thighs, fingers lacing together as his mind conjured up the most venomous thing he could think of.

Years of harassment from ungrateful humans taught him plenty of where to aim where it truly hurt.

"If one can still call you that. To be a princess you need lands, a castle, a royal family. All those things turned to ashes while you were busy running from your kingdom like a coward."

A spark ignited in the green of her eyes and she darted forward with quick steps, snatching the dagger from the table and squeezing the hilt so hard her knuckles turned white. She pointed the blade at him, her jaw clenching and eyes bright with threat yet her hand trembled ever so slightly.

"Fuck you." She spat, inching the blade closer until it almost poked at his forehead. "Didn't your mother turn to ashes? I know that's what happens to bru-"

Ciri barely had the chance to gasp before he grabbed her wrists and shot up from his chair, the force causing it to topple backward onto the floor with a hard thud. He backed her up into the nearest wall, slamming her wrists into it and forcing her to drop the dagger at their feet with a wince. She blinked at him, soft breaths escaping her parted lips that he felt against his skin. He could see the different shades of green in her eyes more clearly, see the way her eyes flickered around different parts of his face.

"You're a real piece of work, Cirilla."

He released her wrists and leaned back, forcing himself to take a deep breath to calm the rapid beating of his heart. His eyes were drawn to the red around the skin of her wrists from his tightened hold and grimaced, a begrudged apology forming on his tongue because his job was to protect not hurt, but before he could get a single word out, Ciri lunged forward.

His nerves flared immediately with alert, only for his instincts to protect himself to short circuit when- instead of being shoved or slapped or even punched for touching her so roughly- he felt soft clumsy lips placed over his.

One of Ciri's arms curled around his shoulders as her chest pressed against his, holding onto him as he staggered backward from surprise. His hands grabbed onto her hips, his mind torn between the tantalizing urge to kiss her back and the possibility of Geralt walking in and seeing the sight of the girl he considered his daughter kissing someone.

He pressed his forehead against hers to break the kiss and sucked in a breath of air. "Ciri-"

"I don't care." She panted softly. "I've been thinking about this for weeks."

The revelation flicked something in him, something in his chest. The heated emotion that always spread through his body whenever he lied eyes on her, the constant need to poke at her until she diverted her attention to him with a scowl, the willingness to put himself between her and danger; he assumed it was complicated hate, his need to protect and his dislike for her constantly battling. Had it been something else? Something so foreign to him he'd mistaken it for loathing?

He watched the desperation swirl in her eyes before he squeezed his shut and pressed his lips against hers, swallowing the shaky exhale she released and darting his tongue past her parted lips. She shivered and wriggled in his grasp, her lack of experience surging in how intensely she reacted to him just grazing his hands over her thighs before he heaved her up fully into his arms. Her legs encircled his waist and the bottom of her boots pressed into the heels, pushing until they fell from her feet.

Twisting around toward the table, he set her down on it and crept his up toward her sleeveless leather vest where he worked on untying the laces until it grew loose enough to discard onto the floor. Her white tunic sagged without the vest and he slipped his hand underneath it, palms roaming over the smooth skin of her abdomen and hips free of any scars unlike his. Her breath quickened when his hand moved higher, and her hold on his tightened when he delicately ran his fingers over her breast.

(Y/N) pulled away, leaving butterfly kisses over her cheek and down to the side of her throat. She drew him in closer and dipped her own hands underneath his tunic to feel along the muscle and scars he'd obtained throughout the years, whispering soft pleas for more into his ear, but his mind focused on the warmth of her skin.

If he listened hard enough he could hear the blood flowing through her veins, the rapid beat of her heart dancing in her chest. His tongue darted out to lick a long line along her skin and she tilted her head to the side, exposing more of her neck.

An alarm blared in his head; his witcher upbringing clashing with the animalistic instinct embedded in his genes in a turbulent fight. Vesemir's voice echoed in his head and urged him to stop, to put an end to the heated moment before it could become gruesome and deadly for them both. He was always so careful but Ciri was such a distraction. If only Vesemir could see him, speak to him.

Vesemir was roughly shoved out of his head in favor of hooking his fingers into the belt buckles of Ciri's worn pants and tugging down roughly enough to drag them to her thighs without unbuttoning them. Her hands were clumsy as she pushed on them, legs kicking wildly until they slumped down onto the floor to be forgotten with the rest of the mess they left in their wake.

He hugged her close to his body and lifted her into his arms again, letting his feet lead him to the room he typically shared with Geralt so the girls could sleep separately from them.

She slipped from his arms and onto the bed, a laugh knocking out of her chest when she collided with the mattress. She curled her fingers around the hem of her tunic and tugged it downward as she pressed her thighs together, the flush on her face burning harder under his eyes and spreading when he took his own clothes off.

His arms curled around her thighs and she gave a light squeak when he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, her eyes widening as his knees met the floorboard and his hands pried open her legs. His face buried in the mound and a long curse dragged out of her throat in response, her hips threatening to buck and quiver as he began lapping at her like a starved dog, the bridge of his nose occasionally brushing against half-curled hairs the same color as the hair on her head.

He hardly knew what he was doing; he'd never had the same urges as his fellow brothers, his mind focused on the monsters over the brothels whenever he visited towns. But, he'd heard plenty of tales and recountings told over food by drunken men (some likely more fabricated than the rest) to have some idea of what he was supposed to be doing, even though he barely paid any mind to precision and focus. He licked and suckled until her quivering thighs caged around his head.

"(Y/N)!" Ciri abruptly cried out, her ankles digging into his back and pushing his face further against her as she flooded his mouth with her juices.

"That was fast." He exhaled, the fleeting humanity managing to grasp onto the reins for a moment, and he wiped at his mouth and chin with his forearm. He dragged his arms from her thighs and traced the lingering imprints before carefully rising from the floor to hover over her and study her features.

Her chest heaved with deep inhales and exhales, her parted lips red and nearly raw from their kissing. He thumbed at the trickle of drool threatening to slide down her cheek and felt her lean into his touch, her trembling hands slowly dragging over his arms and shoulders and tugging him down. She pressed her cheek against his, almost nuzzling into him, and wrapped her legs around his waist.

There was a line in front of him, one he could cross and face multiple different consequences: they could risk the chance of Geralt's reaction, whether it was disapproving or angered, or risk the chance of a secret being exposed through an accidental pregnancy.

He was no true witcher. Unlike his brothers who lost their fertility upon becoming mutants, he had the chance of knocking someone up, a fact Vesemir consistently reminded him of. He was already a hybrid, a creature made up of the blood of human and monster. Could he inflict that on someone else?

But when she tightened her legs around him and purposefully grinded against him, he decided to cross the line regardless.

Ciri's gummy walls resisted the intrusion, and he still had enough clarity to remind himself she was still considered a princess, one who still had the chance of marrying some prickly noble who'd expect his bride to be a virgin pure. "Ciri, are you-"

"Yes." She whined with a tremble, sounding out of breath.

He pushed forward and nearly pressed his full weight down on her when the faint yet familiar scent of blood reached his nose. In most circumstances, it hardly ever phased him, but he usually never allowed the untamed monster side of him to rear its head for longer than a few seconds.

He pressed his face into the sheets and held on tighter to her, his mind escaping him and returning to the chilly mountain Kaer Morhen resided upon until the ringing in his ears ceased and he could move without Ciri wincing.

Part of him desired nothing more than to give in to the creature he kept buried but this was Ciri and he knew better than risking potentially hurting her. He dragged out of her slowly enough for her to whine, only to plunge back in with enough force to knock the wind out of her lungs.

The room quickly filled with the smell of sweat and sex and the subtle hint of blood that still urged him to fall into a state of delirium, choked words and moans filling his ears and keeping him grounded enough to keep his wits.

Ciri's nails raked down his back feverishly, clawing at him as if she were trying to cut him open. The long marks healed seconds after they were made, something Ciri barely noticed in her hazy state of pleasure.

His lips pressed into her collarbone and they parted with the overwhelming urge to bite, but he had half a mind to tilt his head to the side and dig the sharp row of teeth that'd grown into his bicep instead. Blood immediately spilled into his mouth, not the blood he wanted but good enough to sedate the urges.

Almost instantaneously, his hips stuttered and his body threatened to give out on him, his high crashing into him like a tidal wave. His hips continued to move, thrusting into Ciri until she cried out again, practically milking every last drop of his release with her squeezing around him like a vice. She panted into his ear, sounding as if she'd just ran miles upon miles, before her palms slapped against his shoulders and shoved him upward.

"You're bleeding- did you bite yourself?" She blinked wildly at him, eyes darting back and forth between the blood coating his lips and the blood smeared across his bicep.

The row of punctures wounds had healed the moment he'd taken his teeth out of the muscle but the sight still looked like he'd taken a chunk out of himself. Droplets of blood ran down his forearm, dripping onto the bed and turning frizzy strands of her hair into a crimson color.

"It was either you-" He gulped down a breath of air and swiped his tongue over his lips. "-or me."

Gently, Ciri ran her fingers over the blood on his face, her lips twisting into a frown. "I knew a bruxa once. She had a lover she fed on and- and they were fine for a while. Maybe if you-"

The sound of the front door slamming shut startled them both, and they were hardly given enough time to process what that meant before Yennefer and Geralt appeared in the doorway, their panicked and concerned faces plunging through several differing emotions at the sight of them tangled up together. Geralt quickly turned his back on them and Yennefer released a long, somewhat amused sigh.

"This is not what I meant when I said you should give her a chance. Get dressed. We obviously need to have a chat."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x male reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #cirilla fiona elen riannon #cirilla of cintra #cirilla fiona elen riannon x reader #cirilla of cintra x reader #cirilla x reader #cirilla of cintra x male reader #crilla x male reader #x witcher!reader #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg

217 notes · View notes

rafeysbangs · 5 months ago

Text

lachesism , rafe cameron ( series ) 04

pairing ; brother's!bsf!rafe x kook!female!reader

content ; mdni !! outerbanks au, eventual smut, angst, violence, underage drinking, family issues, substance abuse, s/a.

summary ; rafe cameron is everything you can’t stand; reckless, infuriating, and too self-assured for his own good. as your brother’s best friend, he’s always been a constant presence, one you’ve done your best to ignore. but the tension between you has always simmered just beneath the surface, sharp and impossible to ignore. you’ve spent years resisting his pull, refusing to give him the satisfaction. but in a world where lines blur and control slips away, you’re forced to face the truth: rafe cameron isn’t so easy to hate after all.

status ; ongoing .ᐟ

✺ navigation ; 003. 004. 005.

FOUR, what lingers here.

BY THE TIME FRIDAY ROLLED AROUND,

the house was a hive of activity. carter and rafe had spent the better part of the afternoon moving furniture, setting up the backyard, and debating the playlist. you kept yourself busy, cleaning up the house and locking doors as well as laying snacks and shitty punch out in every corner you could think of.

just before sunset, topper and kelce arrived, arms loaded with cases of beer and a surprisingly professional-looking dj deck. kelce, grinning like he'd just pulled off the heist of the century, explained that djing was his "side gig." you rolled your eyes, but secretly, you were impressed, glad that you'd have good music.

"this party's gonna be legendary," topper declared as he dumped the booze on the kitchen counter.

shortly after, cora showed up, practically bouncing through the door. the moment she spotted you, she let out a loud squeal and threw her arms around you.

"we're gonna have the best time." cora exclaimed, her excitement contagious.

you couldn't help but smile. "let's just hope the house doesn't end all project X."

cora laughed mischievously. "what's the fun in that?"

while cora wandered off to investigate the snack table, you stepped outside to double-check everything. the sun was dipping low, casting a warm orange glow over the yard. the pool sparkled, chairs were arranged haphazardly, and the snack table looked... decent. you added one more bowl of chips, then turned when you heard footsteps behind you.

"you're really overthinking this," rafe said, leaning against the doorframe. his tone wasn't mocking, just matter-of-fact.

"someone has to," you replied, crossing your arms.

he stepped closer, hands in his pockets. "it's gonna be fine. nothing's gonna get destroyed. i'll make sure of it."

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by how genuine he sounded. "really?..."

he shrugged, his gaze steady but not challenging. "guess i don't want you freaking out all night."

you blinked, caught off guard. "uh.. thanks."

"don't get used to it," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk before he turned and headed back inside.

you stood there for a moment, processing. maybe rafe cameron wasn't entirely insufferable. maybe.

upstairs, you and cora got ready together. cora's suitcase of makeup and accessories was spread across the bed, and she was already swiping eyeshadow onto her eyelids.

"so, what are you wearing?" cora asked, rummaging through a pile of tiny tops and skirts.

you held up a mini skirt and deep red top. "this, i guess."

cora faked a dramatic gasp with a smile, "you're gonna look amazing. i mean, you could wear a potato sack and still look hot, but this? chef's kiss."

you laughed, shaking your head. "calm down. it's just a party."

"it's the first huge party of the summer." cora corrected, pointing a brush at her. "and we're gonna own it."

you and cora clattered down the stairs together, the music vibrating through your ribs. the living room had transformed into a makeshift dance floor, the furniture pushed against the walls, lights dimmed, and a kaleidoscope of shadows flickering across the walls. kelce had the dj deck set up in the corner, bobbing his head like he was headlining a festival. someone was attempting a keg stand in the backyard while a handful of people splashed in the pool, their laughter cutting through the house music.

you paused at the sliding door, taking it all in. the golden light of the setting sun bathed the scene in a surreal glow, and for the first time, you felt the nerves ebbing away, replaced by a flicker of excitement.

cora nudged her with an elbow. "see? it's gonna be perfect."

you nodded, a small smile forming as you stepped into the chaos. maybe cora was right. maybe tonight really would be one to remember.

you felt the pulse of excitement, a slight nervous energy running under your skin. you hadn't been to a party in a hot minute. you let yourself take it in, cora's excitement spilling over, the freedom of your parents being gone, the way the sunset streaked through the house in warm, hazy tones.

cora spotted a guy near the back door and practically squealed. "oh my god, he's here. be right back!" she gave you a quick hug before darting off, her skirt swishing behind her. you stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next, until carter appeared with rafe in tow.

"beer pong timeee," carter sang, already holding red cups in one hand and a ping-pong ball in the other. his grin was wide and reckless, his movements just a little too loose. "you and rafe against me and jenna." he nodded toward the girl standing nearby, a tall red head with a confident smile.

you hesitated, glancing at rafe. he shrugged, his usual smirk a little lopsided as he looked you up and down. "let's see if you're any good," he teased. you rolled your eyes with a grin following them in suit.

they set up at the dining table, pushing everything else aside. jenna stood next to carter, tossing her hair over her shoulder, while you and rafe took the other side. the game started with easy banter, rafe taking the first shot and landing it effortlessly. you followed, missing by a mile, and he raised an eyebrow at you. "seriously?"

"shut up," you muttered, but there wasn't any bite to it. as the game went on, their team started winning. rafe sank shot after shot, and you got a few in too. by the end, carter and jenna were groaning while rafe and you high-fived in triumph.

the moment lingered just a beat too long, both your hands pressed against his, both of them grinning before reality set in. you pulled your hands back, suddenly aware of how strange it was to celebrate anything with him. rafe seemed to realise it too, cooly shoving his hands into his pockets and pretending as if nothing had happened.

carter and rafe then walked off to go see who could drink more beers in 5 minutes, you rolled her eyes at them and made your way over to cora who was dancing with a few girls she knew. you joined them with a grin, swaying along to the music but still keeping your composure. you weren't drunk enough to dance like the other girls just yet.

"you're all stiff del." cora pointed out, her eyebrow raised with her hands on her hips as she steadied. "you need a drink or two in you before i'm caught dancing with you again, cmon." cora grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you over to one of the tables where a few spirits and unopened beers sat in a cooler.

you fiddled with your fingers as your best friend surveyed the options, "cora i really dont need any more to drink-"

"no... no. you're not being uptight tonight. come on, let loose. nothing bad's gonna happen del. i promise. plus your brother's here." cora said, matter of factly. delilah took a deep breath, flashing the brunette with a nervous smile before nodding.

"okay. okay, give me that vodka and the cranberry juice back there." you grinned. cora squealed a little before passing her both drinks with a smile. you carefully poured two shots worth and topped the rest off with the cranberry juice into a red cup before swishing it around.

"chug.. chug chug," cora started chanting with a mischevious grin, you shook her head with a smile, flashing her an 'i'm going to kill you later' look. eventually a few people around them joined in on the chant, the chorus of voices grabbed even rafe and carter's attentions and you rolled her eyes with a shrug before downing the entire drink you had just made.

you held the cup upside down in the air a little triumphantly with a smile. few people cheered around you and cora leaned onto you in a drunken hug, "there we gooooo"

cora then dragged you right back onto the dance floor, the spirits in your bloodstream taking almost immediate effect as you finally started dancing. not even bothering to notice a set of eyes still lingering on your figure as she moved.

later, you found yourself outside by the pool, the cool night air a welcome relief from the heat inside. the party was still raging, voices overlapping with the music. you sat on one of the loungers, watching the reflections of string lights ripple on the water, letting yourself unwind.

"figured you'd be here," rafe's voice cut through the noise. he stumbled slightly as he approached, holding a mostly-empty beer.

"stalker?" you shot back with your brow slightly furrowed, but your tone was light.

he grinned, plopping down in the chair next to hers. "just surprised. you're usually so... uptight. but tonight? you're fun again. it's a good look."

you rolled your eyes, with a scoff and a grin. "don't get used to it."

they sat there for a moment, the space between them filled with the hum of the party. rafe didn't say much else, but something about his presence felt less grating than usual. maybe it was the beer talking. maybe it was just the night... probably the cheap beer.

he just flashed you his usual mischievous smirk before shrugging and walking away, back up toward the music.

eventually, the party wound down. people trickled out in pairs or small groups, the house gradually quieting. cora found you by the front door, her hand laced with the guy she'd been talking to all night. "this was great," cora gushed, leaning in to hug you. "call me tomorrow, okay?" she gave you a grin before heading out, her laughter trailing behind her.

when you returned to the living room, carter and rafe were sprawled on the couch, both looking more tired than drunk now. she collapsed between them with a sigh. "we killed it."

carter grinned lazily. "totally worth the cleanup tomorrow."

"but first," you said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "you guys wanna smoke?"

you all gathered in your bedroom, the smell of lavender lingering faintly from an old candle you'd burned earlier in the week. your bong sat in on the bed like a centrepiece, its pink tinted glass catching the soft glow of your bedside lamp. carter was already raiding the bag of snacks you had dumped on the bed, while rafe leaned against the headboard, watching you with an expression that was equal parts tired and amused.

"this thing is fancy," rafe said, picking up the bong and turning it in his hands. "like, unnecessarily fancy."

"well, excuse me for having taste," you shot back, taking it from him and carefully packing the bowl. "you'd probably use a crushed soda can or something."

"hey, don't knock it till you try it," rafe said, smirking. "the engineering behind a soda can bong is next level."

carter laughed through a mouthful of chips. "man, i bet he's right. rafe could turn a toaster into a bong if he wanted to."

"don't tempt me," rafe said, leaning back. "but seriously, this thing—" he gestured toward the glass piece in your hands, "-looks like it belongs in an art gallery."

"okay, are we smoking or are you just gonna critique my bong choice all night?" you said, flicking a lighter. the small flame illuminated your face for a moment as you lit the bowl, inhaling deeply before handing it off to carter.

"you know, i always thought you were boring," rafe said, watching you exhale a cloud of smoke.

"woww thanks asshole" you muttered, rolling your eyes. "you're such a charmer."

"no, seriously," he continued, leaning forward a little. "like, you've got this whole 'follow the rules' thing going on, but then i find out you've got a freaking bong collection and can actually win a beer pong game. it's throwing me off."

"you're so dramatic," you said, laughing despite yourself. "i'm not that mysterious."

"you kinda are," carter chimed in, taking his hit and coughing a little. "like, you keep all your cool stuff hidden away until nights like this."

you snorted. "it's not hidden. you just don't pay attention."

rafe reached for the bong, shaking his head. "nah, he's right. you've got layers, y/l/n. it's weird, but like... good weird."

you handed him the lighter, your eyes narrowing. "are you high already? or is this some kind of backhanded compliment?"

"it's an observation," rafe said, smirking as he lit the bowl. he took a long drag before exhaling smoothly, the smoke curling up toward the ceiling. "but yeah, maybe i'm a little high."

"great," you said, plucking a bag of gummy bears from the pile of snacks. "high rafe is just what this night needed."

you passed the bong around a few more times, the tension between everyone softening with each turn. carter told a story about the time he accidentally set a grill on fire at a friend's barbecue, complete with exaggerated hand gestures that made both rafe and you laugh so hard you almost cried. rafe followed it up with a wild tale about sneaking into a country club pool after hours, his words slightly slurred but still animated. you watched him closely as he spoke.

"and then, right as the security guard showed up, topper panicked and dove into the pool, fully clothed," rafe said, grinning. "like, as if swimming away was gonna help."

"classic topper," carter said, shaking his head. "that guy's an idiot."

"you're all idiots," you said, leaning back against your pillows. "but, like, entertaining ones."

"oh, so now we're entertaining?" rafe asked, raising an eyebrow. "thought we were just the worst."

"you are the worst," you said, tossing a gummy bear at him. "but, you're becoming tolerable."

rafe caught the gummy bear mid-air, popping it into his mouth with a smirk. "i'll take it."

by the time the snacks were half gone and the room was filled with a hazy calm, you were all lying down, your laughter fading into quiet murmurs. carter was the first to pass out, his head resting on a pile of spare blankets on the floor.

you glanced over at rafe, who was lying next to you, his eyes half-closed but still awake. "thanks for not letting the house burn down tonight," you said softly, surprising even yourself with the sincerity in your voice.

he opened one eye, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "don't get used to it."

you rolled her eyes, but your lips twitched into a small smile. soon enough, the quiet and the haze took over, and you both drifted off, the space between you smaller than it had been in a long time.

notes ; i have zero patience so here's the next parttt, thank you for all the love !!

series taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @sqfewrd @dreamyy-cloud @vampteeth @wtfisastiles @flvredcas @plaidcowboy @sematarygirls @slut4you @kravitzwhore @daryldixon83 @lexavanhuelee @dorcas4meadowes @foolishangelic @i2rapunzel @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafestoothbrush @drewizz @6r4cie @akobx @seehowitshines @rafeswhoooreee @vbstrewbieri @waywarddiplomatfarmmonger-blog @ariivv01 @k4yr14 @ehhhitsaj @luvrcndy ( lachesism taglist )

238 notes · View notes

thelov3lybookworm · 1 year ago

Text

Juice Stains

Summary: A day alone with the babe. What could go wrong?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: because @secret-third-thing's this post inspired me to have eris washing socks lol you can all thank her for inspiring me 🤭

anyways, enjoyy!!

No one told Eris that giving a two year old child a glass of juice would result in him cursing his own existence.

His wife had gone to visit her friend in summer court, only just getting the chance to leave Amelia in his care since her birth. Eris had forced her to go himself, practically spewing a speech to get her nerves to calm.

Oh how he regretted that now as he rubbed the tiny fabric against itself in his hands, the water constantly running proving to be of no help against the stubborn stain of the orange juice spilled on the sock.

And the culprit of this crime? She was happily laughing away as she watched her father suffer for her actions.

Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Eris sighed, wondering how the hell Y/n handled situations like this. His back was screaming in pain, his fingers cramping after long moments of clutching at the tiny sock of his daughter.

The stain simply refused to come off, only adding to the list of things Eris was frustrated about as he leaned back, trying to straighten his back and get rid of at least some of the pain, his eyes wandering around the room.

It was a mess, and that was putting it lightly.

On the bed lay the heap of little clothes Eris had been looking through earlier to dress his little princess after her bath, wanting to pick the most comfortable and fashionable outfit suitable for someone so important.

On the couch and in front of it lay Amelia's toys, thrown around in the fit of rage she'd been before he handed her the juice.

Which, somehow, looked like the worst decision he'd made in his life.

The glass lay abandoned on the floor next to Amelia, who was chewing on her mitten like it was the tastiest fabric in the world, juice still pooled on the floor, slowly spreading.

Releasing a breath of frustration, Eris wrung the sock in his hand, then turned and stalked over to where Amelia sat, the mitten half hanging out of her mouth, her hand covered in saliva from when she had been trying to eat herself.

Cannibalism?

Eris knew it was ridiculous to think that, but how was he to shut his mind down when he was too tired to even blink?

"Come on, its nap time." He muttered lowly, leaning down to gather Amelia in his arms, who offered him a toothy grin for his suffering.

Despite her making him work so much, he could not stay mad. Hell, he could not even bring himself to be irritated or fault her for his tiredness. She was too adorable for that.

As he slowly set her down on her back on the fluffy mattress, uncaring that she was laying diagonally on the bed, he let himself smile at her.

"Are you happy after making daddy work so much?"

She squealed as he buried his face in her neck, giggling and trying to push him away when he tried to bite at her cheek.

"You deserve that punishment, you know that right?"

Her eyes twinkled back at him, and he sighed, settling down next to her, his body from the knee down hanging off.

"I'm resting a little before mommy returns. Remind me to clean up before then, will you?"

He patted her back, gently humming a tune to get her to sleep as she babbled out an answer he was too tired to even try and decipher. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, even though she was the one who should have been sleeping.

No, she stayed awake, talking to herself and playing with the wet sock he still had in his hand and giggling at the wet splat the material made when she slapped it onto her father's face.

She did not, in fact, wake him up before mommy arrived.

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo

@sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175

@starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @gardenofrunar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat

Eris Vanserra Taglist: @fell-in-luvs @azrielsmate3 @tele86 @caraaaaugh

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #a court of mist and fury #mating bond #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #pro eris vanserra #acotar #high lord eris #eris vandaddy #heir of autumn court

426 notes · View notes

glitteringdust · 13 days ago

Note

A letter with a broken seal; the wax is stamped with a familiar symbol.

The envelope sits carefully between them, torn open.

Fenris doesn't recognize the symbol on the wax, but he does recognize Varric's fancy scrawl filling empty space with careful precision.

"When did you receive this?"

He doesn't have to read the letter inside to know what the dwarf asks. It's written clearly along Hawke's entire body— in the way he was hunched into himself, refusing to meet his eye, looking instead out the window as the setting sun drenched the sky in orange and red. The mage had never been good at hiding his true feelings from him.

"Hawke. Please tell me it was today."

He sighs, "A week ago."

It still stings more than he thought it would. His fingers claw at the table he leans down against, "And you've said nothing until now."

Hawke nods, the guilt seeping off him like a miasma. This gets Fenris's attention. Why guilt? Was he not just mulling over the decision? What else was he not saying?

"I didn’t know how to tell you." He trails off, clears his throat, "I still don't."

"Tell me what?" They could still get out of the city unnoticed. It didn’t leave much time to prepare but it could be done. Aveline would help, or Isabela.

Hawke's gaze aches, "Fenris…"

He steps back, standing bolt upright. The realization sends ice down to his feet, sucking the breath from him. The room feels like it's spinning, "Just say it."

A shuddering exhale, "I have to go alone. I won't risk your life with this."

"But you would risk your own?" He slams his hands down on the table.

"That's not—"

Fenris cuts him off, "When?"

Hawke crumples, defeated, "Tomorrow."

Each heartbeat thunders in his ears, drowning out in an instant whatever explanation Hawke had. He collapses back into the chair he'd jumped out of, mouth dry and hands trembling as he sits and tries to absorb what he's just heard.

Hawke was leaving tomorrow into unknown danger.

He didn't want him to come with.

Two impossible scenarios come to life. He feels like he's going to be sick, leaning forward to rest his forehead in his hands. This couldn't be real, surely he's in a nightmare he'll wake from any moment. Tears burn briefly in the corner of his eyes before he blinks them away. Anger quickly rushes forward again, wanting nothing more than to smash the table into splinters, throw glass after glass against the wall. He wants to fight and argue and make his point clear, burning with an intensity he hadn't felt since he'd been a slave.

But he stops himself. No, not like this. He doesn't want this night to be remembered like this.

He stands so abruptly that Hawke jumps too, honey eyes meeting his as he steps around the table. Hawke goes to stand, but Fenris only puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back into the armchair.

"If I am to have one last night with you, we spend it my way."

"Anything, Fenris. I'm yours." Hawke murmurs, voice rough.

He rushes to him, engulfing himself in the feel of his lips against the other's, each kiss liquid fire against his skin. Instead of fighting, he bites back every word by breathing Hawke in. His taste, his smell, the way his skin felt against him. He wants to etch each and every part of him to memory. He wants Hawke's voice whispering sweet nothings into his ear, breath sending shivers down his spine.

They make love once, twice. A third when he wakes to the early pink sky and the tears start again and he tastes salt along Hawke's cheeks too. They cling to each other; neither one pretending that they slept at all, trying and failing to feel nothing about the mere hours left before the inevitable.

Hawke makes breakfast that Fenris can only pick at, tasting none of it. He thinks of throwing the plate into the fire and pinning Hawke to the wall, begging and pleading for him to stay. Or take him with. Don't do this.

The ache in his chest only sharpens more when Hawke kisses him in the doorway, cupping his cheek with his hand. His other was laced with Fenris's, bodies yearning to be closer.

"I just want to keep you safe, Fenris. You're all I have left."

"I know, Hawke." His throat feels raw. Don't you know you’re all I have too?

"I'll be back before you know it." Hawke pulls him close, "I love you."

"I love you." He does, so much that it chokes him. So much that he feels like drowning.

As the door shuts in some cruel sort of finality, something inside Fenris shuts too.

—

He couldn’t bring himself to stay at the manor after Hawke left. What had become a home after years of being adrift felt nothing but haunted now. He saw Hawke everywhere, in everything. He fled that same day to the old manor he'd squatted in before Hawke petitioned the city to sign the deed over to him.

A reward for stopping Meredith, a lifetime ago now.

But he went back often. Waiting. Hoping. Dreading. What if Hawke returned and he wasn't there? What would he think happened to Fenris? Did Hawke even care? It was another cruel game he gifted to himself, endless questions stemming from the nightmares that came to him when he managed to sleep more than a few hours each night.

He had so much empty time, now. He busied himself fighting off slavers along the coast, over and over until the rumor of a glowing wraith was too much for even the lowest of low-lives to attempt to dig their heels in.

Then, he was aimless, wandering the streets of Kirkwall. Or just sitting motionless on his old stiff bed as the grief overwhelmed him out of nowhere. Some weeks were better than others, but what Hawke used to always say about time was a lie.

It doesn't heal. It doesn't make anything easier. The unknown was tearing him to pieces.

Then the second letter comes, the same symbol as before, and he cannot make himself open it. Similar to a coin flip, this letter was one of two things— good or bad news.

He needed to know, but couldn’t bear to.

Why hadn't he heard anything before now? The handwriting was Varric's, that he knew for sure, but it was addressed "Fenris" and not "Broody" which gave him pause. Was he just ensuring the letter got to him, or was something grave lurking inside?

He thinks back to the nights he would lie in bed aching for news. For a hint of something Hawke, a wisp or a sign of the man in something. Now, he had what he'd asked for but was too afraid to open it?

Enough of this.

He reaches for the letter, fingers sliding across the sealed crease as he dives straight into the abyss of what may or may not, break him.

#eeeee I have psychic damage now #there will be a part two #my writing #fenhawke #fenris #fenris x hawke #hawke x fenris #hawris #dragon age fanfic #fenhawke fanfic #fenhawke fic rec #dragon age fanfiction #fenhawke fanfiction #ship: love me like this

60 notes · View notes

half-dead-writer · 10 months ago

Note

Wallace wells x transmasc bottom with a praise kink PLSPLSPLSSS

I was this 🤏 close to making it myself so YES OFC!! I tried my best writing Wallace but I feel like I could've made him better :( I included reader wearing a binder instead of having a top surgery because surprisingly there's not a lot fics about that! that was hell of a write, straight 4 days of writing, my longest fic yet - there may be some errors along the way, I really wanted to finally finish it lmao anyways, enjoy!!

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

A drunk escapade with you makes Wallace rethink his opinion on Sparks

character: Wallace Wells (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off)

words: ~7,6k

reader: transmasc (with a praise kink)

warnings: drunk sex, reader smokes and didn't have a top surgery yet

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 + 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 / 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔱 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔒𝔣𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

"Really, you came with me to the club just so you could not drink?" The alcohol in Wallace's hand was already being sloshed around in the fancy glass.

Today Wallace had asked you to accompany him to the recently opened club down the road. Your opinion of such places isn't really positive - a lot of strangers come there, some not as accepting as Wallace. You promised to walk with him to the place, mainly just curious how it looks like. You didn't plan on actually staying, but you thought taking a quick look inside wouldn't hurt. Of course, you should have expected this would happen.

"When was even the last time we properly hung out like that," he took a nonchalant sip of his Martini, "without Scott to bother us with random Sonic facts?"

Wallace knew full well that you wouldn't be able to refuse his offer once you actually got there. The place was steadily bustling with life, blue and pink strobe lights were dancing across the the dimly lit room. You were not used to being in places like this, in contrary to your friend, who you imagined spent most of his time in such setting.

"When was the last time you've been sober through the entire week?" Your intention wasn't really to shame him, instead just engaging in a playful banter.

"Don't change the topic, guy," he squinted his eyes in amusement, "or I'll start thinking you don't actually like my company," he quipped back with a sly smirk.

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly, leaning more on the bar you've been sitting by, "I didn't bring any money," you started, hoping he'd get the hint. Whether he would let you go or pay for your drink, it'd be a win-win situation.

"Poor you, huh," he raised his eyebrow in a feigned surprise, "why do I always land on leeches?"

You exhaled through your nose, amused, "so what do you wanna drink hm?" He asked, calmly taking out his wallet. It took you a moment to think of something.

"How about..." you scanned over the menu, a colorful drink caught your interest "Mango Mimosa?"

"Looking at the pretty pictures for help with choosing," he commented, finishing his own drink in one swig. "Classy."

"How the hell do you choose then?" You smiled, furrowing your brows in confusion.

"By trying each one in order, of course," he smirked, you weren't sure to what extend he was joking. He raised his hand to get the attention of the barman, "One Mango Mimosa and Martini this way!" You observed as the barman's hands moved in a smooth motion, spilling the alcohol into previously taken out glasses and decorating them with some enrichment. A slice of orange was set on the edge of your drink, Wallace got a fancy olive stabbed by a cocktail stick in his. He put the cash on the counter, "thanks, you're a dear." He winked the male barman's way, making the other avert his gaze in a hurry.

You took the glass into your hand, moved by the urge to get some alcohol into you. You got used to Wallace flirting with any males he considered cute, it was a package deal when it came to hanging out with him. What bothered you wasn't his ability to get game, but rather what you couldn't have. Contrary to how you usually acted around him, you really cared about Wallace.

You originally met him through Scott, your old classmate. You had only spent one school year with the ginger-haired man, but you were good friends while it lasted. Unfortunately, after the graduation you had to move out. Even though the circumstances were not ideal, you still somewhat kept in touch with him through messages. You knew he was now living in Toronto, had a girlfriend (who apparently had 7 evil exes??) and shared a house with a "cool gay roommate". The mention of that got you a bit curious. You were pretty gay yourself, so you hoped to make a new friend. It just so happened that the future had you moving into the same town your ex-classmate lived, and it kinda went from there. Scott greeted you with open arms, excited to see you again. You were also happy by reconnecting with an old friend.

Everything was going smooth, until the roommate he told you about moved from his sitting place to greet you as well.

"Y/N, hm?" He shifted his weight onto one leg, placing a hand on his hip. His eyes checked you up and down, making you extremely uneasy. Scott's vibe was always very unthreatening, which let you chill out around him really easily. This man, however, had the most intimidating aura. He was so- casually pretty, and had the calm conviction in his moves that you found really attractive. You felt unprepared to handle the situation, stopping in your tracks to just stare at him for a moment. He cocked his eyebrow to your silence, finally forcing you take action.

"Yes," you quickly responded, covering your lack of nonchalance with a smile, "... Scott's cool gay roommate?" You tried to ease the tension forming around you with a lighthearted remark.

"Been called that from time to time" he relaxed his face, offering a calm smirk, "I see you've also been charmed by Scott's amazing social skills, huh?"

'I've been charmed by you', you admitted to yourself in your mind.

"I'd say my social skills are... --tend to vary, starting from average." Scott's voice reminded you of his existence, the past few seconds of your life were occupied by the image of this god-sent man.

The first impressions had you feeling shier than usual, frankly just feeling dominated by his presence. You were mostly counting on Scott to keep you safe from being on one on one with him. The thought of Wallace, alone in the room with you made anxious.

Of course, after some time, you stopped putting him on the pedestal and making scary assumptions. Just because you considered him cool didn't mean he would be rude or a stuck up to you. Quite the opposite, even if his disposition was a bit blunt and bold, more often than not, you thought that he was on the same level as you. He respected you, and even shared a few gossips that you found fairly entertaining. At some point it even looked as if you were better friends with him than Scott. That let you embrace the casual bicker with him on occasions, which none of you minded. One thing that you disliked about Wallace was his common flirting with random boys he found attractive. It bothered you, because he also flirted with you.

When it first happened, it had you lovestruck. You weren't ready to digest that compliment yet, though, and your reaction painted you quite awkward. Wallace brushed it off, not minding the lack of reciprocation to the flirt. Your friendship remained casual, and as the time passed, it made more sense as to why you received such attention. Wallace was bit of a fuckboy. It wasn't hard to see him with another boy by the end of the week. Of course, you had no business in what he wants to do, and you weren't about to judge your own friend for having fun. Your relationship remained casual and relatively close, but that fact forced you to push back your hopes of actually getting together with him. Not mentioning the obvious sex difference. Even though you were confidently self-assured about being a man, an opinion Wallace also shared about you, you still compared yourself to his suitors as "less than".

"C'mon, loosen up a little. You're with your dear, handsome friend Wallace who's paying for your drink," he swished the Martini while boosting his own ego.

You rolled your eyes, "I am loose," you huffed out, pretending offense while taking a sip of your drink.

"Yeah, sure, and I'm straight." Wallace replied back, grinning at you. "Your shoulders look like you're about to have a stick shoved up your butt with how stiff you are right now."

The colorful description made you laugh, earning a satisfied smile from him.

"Lighten up, guy, it's just me and you, hanging out. Nothing out of ordinary, except that we're at a club," he pointed out, trying to chase your doubts.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," you gave in, taking the slice of orange placed on the edge of your drink and biting into it.

"So, any interesting news to tell me?" He rested his chin, leaning on his palm with all of his attention pointed at you.

"Mm, not really. Work sucks, per usual," you respond, bored with how uneventful your life is.

"Yeah, gossip from my side's gotta be the usual. Scott's still dating Ramona, they're as happy as ever, blah blah blah." He informed with a bored look on his face.

"How about you, huh? Which boytoy of the week you got your hands on now?" You ask casually, only slightly interested. Wallace wouldn't notice the angst-touched connotations of this question.

He took another sip of his martini, the alcohol making his cheeks flush a bit, "I realized I'm too beautiful for the majority of people, they don't deserve a taste of me. I'm taking a break for now."

You were surprised, you didn't actually expect Wallace to "get a break" from having fun, as he usually put it. Somehow, this info made you loosen up a little. You stopped with the idle drinking, finishing the rest of the drink in one chug. The warmth hitting your throat made you aware of how relaxed the alcohol finally colored you.

"Wow, I really feel special," you joked, a smile tugging your lips.

"You bet," he smirked, following your steps and disappearing the liquid in his glass as well. The percentages in his system also began to take course, making him more prone to smiling. "Barman, one more Martini and Mango Mimosa!"

You didn't even try to stop him, patiently awaiting your next dose of the courage liquid, ignoring the loud party music that easily pierced through your ears. You didn't have to wait long, the drink came into your hand quickly. The conversation was cut by both of you trying to feed more alcohol into your system.

"Wanna go out for a smoke?" You suggested, an easy way out when the activities on a party seem limited.

"Sure, why not." he shrugged, taking his Martini. You took the opportunity to hold his hand while searching for the exit from the big crowd of people, the feeling you'd treasure after this meeting. Wallace had no objections. Outside was a relatively secluded part of the club with certainly less people. A small, wooden bench and a table awaited, perfect for you to sit on. Wallace positioned himself comfortably, putting your drinks on the table. You leaned against his body slightly, an action easily explainable by the size of the bench.

"Ever heard of personal space?" He pointed out the close proximity, bu from the tone of his voice you assumed he wasn't serious. He readjusted himself so that your body would comfortably fit into his.

"Here," you passed him a pack of cigarettes after taking out one for yourself, his fingers lazily grabbed the object. You dug out a lighter out of your pocket, handing it to him. He let the smoke from the cigarette explore his lungs for a second, returning you the item after.

You felt pretty comfortable with the situation, which beckoned the playfulness to visit you. You put the cigarette in your mouth, straightening it while near his face. A smile tugging on your lips curved it a little. He noticed you approaching, quickly getting the hint.

"You know you can just use your lighter, right?" He sounded like he was complaining, yet still, he put the poor excuse of a pocky into his mouth. His face features got well lit by the little fire born from your cigarettes. The reflection was exceptionally pretty in his eyes, accentuating his slightly flushed cheeks, right next to a smirk on his lips. You blew out the smoke that's been uncomfortably residing in you for too long, holding in the need to cough. Wallace was surprisingly kind enough not to comment on it.

"It's more fun to do it this way," you were finally able to respond. He returned to his lazy sitting position, sprawled out on the bench, lazily holding the cig between his fingers. You dared to lean your head on his shoulder, sight pointed up, looking at the sky.

"Look at you, bein' all affectionate and clingy now," he mimicked your typical bickering session, adding touch of suave. "You're not usually like this."

"I can stop if you want," you threatened to take away the privilege of your warmth half-serious, an attempt to hide the embarrassment in you.

Wallace raised an eyebrow at the statement, a drunk smirk still persistent on his lips. "And why would I want you to stop? I'm just sayin' that you don't usually get this touchy. I don't mind you being close to me, guy."

The comment made your stomach feel butterflies. You knew your perception of his answer probably differed a lot from how he originally meant to say it, but the false hope was too strong for you to ignore.

"...Cool." You felt a smile that you couldn't stop creeping up. Wallace pushed the smoke out of his lips once more, "yep, pretty cool." He switched the cigarette into his other hand, moving his unoccupied arm around you in a way that rendered you as a nice armrest. You welcomed the sudden change of the position, entangling yourself in a way where both of you were comfortable. It was the first time you and Wallace were practically cuddled up, you thanked yourself for choosing to stay in the club.

"Damn, you're seriously hopeless when it comes to hiding your lack of human touch. It's kinda cute, in a pathetic way." His playful mockery hit you like a lightning.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You shot your eyes at him, halfly in disbelief of what you heard, halfly embarrassed at his statement being completely true.

"It means you don't have the guts to ask for a hug yet you still cling to me like a damn koala."

"Well- would you do it if I asked?" You lightly tested the waters.

"I dunno, try it." He flashed you his teeth in a cocky smile after putting out his used cigarette on the ashtray. You passed him your cigarette butt after the last use, buying some time before the big decision. He threw it away as well.

"...Do you wanna hug me, then?" You asked, convinced that you wouldn't be faced with rejection, at least judging by his tone. You were technically already pretty cuddled up, but there was still some space left between you.

"Yeah, guy, come here," he requested, (or more like commanded) patting his lap and raising his arm so you could get up. You could feel yourself getting warm, hoping Wallace would assume the flush look of yours was caused by alcohol. The short moment of clarity made you take a look around you, judging your current whereabouts. There weren't many people around, most of what you heard was some conversation and the music coming out of the club in the distance. Your little corner was secluded already, so you didn't need to worry about acting inappropriate in public (unlike some of the people here). You raised your hips, carefully making contact with his lap. You worried about being too heavy for him, but he didn't show any signs of discomfort. He locked his hands together, catching you in his embrace, his smile a looking a bit funny due to the percentages in his system.

Even though the act seemed fairly friendly and casual, you couldn't help but focus on the tension that's been lurking around you two. You weren't sure if it was just your wishful thinking, or did Wallace seem really open to being extra affectionate with you, but you couldn't believe how much of an effect it had on you, especially drunk. You felt as if the stars finally aligned.

"Any more requests, Y/N? I'm feelin' generous." Somehow the simple act of him saying your name made you even more flustered. Still going along with your (alleged) delusions, you thought Wallace's stare differed from the ones he gave you previously. You were usually relatively good at recognising Wallace's expressions and the meaning behind them, knowing him for some time now gave you this insight. He reserved the special, sultry-flavored looks only for the victims of his flirting, and right now you had a hard time convincing yourself you were the witness of it to such extent.

The hesitation in your voice made itself known, making you wait a second before Wallace could hear your response. "Yeah? ... How about a kiss then?" You made sure to hide your eagerness in a layer of playful tone, just in case he noticed your lack of nonchalance about the question. He squinted his eyes, letting out a small huff of amusement.

"Bold, I like that," his eyes fell on your face, which has been heating up pretty quick. Unsurprisingly, his gaze trailed right down to your lips, raising his hand to cup your cheek. You instinctively closed your eyes, the feeling of his lips touching yours became more intense. For a moment you thought you got a little sick due to the alcohol and the strong emotions coursing through you. You weren't sure how much time you spend pressing your lips together, but you assumed it wasn't nearly as long as you felt it was. You were the first to let go, anxiety made you overwhelmed by the length of the kiss, which made you worried about looking too into it.

Suddenly, Sparks.

You saw them, clear as day, which in all honesty wasn't that surprising. You knew you had it bad for him. Wallace opened up his eyes that were previously closed as well, the expression on his face was hard to read. He looked- surprised, but also confused. Did that mean he saw them as well?

You looked- shaken up. But in a good way. He smoothly got over the initial surprise, his hand fixed the stray strand of hair that fell loosely on your face when you pulled away from the kiss. "Come on, handsome, a kiss should last more than a few seconds," he insisted, enjoying every bit of your current expression. He seemed way more eager in comparison to the last one. That sentence had you absolutely going back in.

The next kissing session definitely felt more intense. Wallace knew how to kiss, that was clear. His thumb was gently brushing against your face in soft strokes, adding even more overwhelming sensations, along with his other hand that was busy slowly rubbing your back. It didn't take long for the shy make-out to turn into full-blown exchange of spit. Wallace made the first move of letting his tongue graze your lips, making you part them almost immediately. Granted this opportunity, his tongue explored the corners of your mouth in just slightly sloppy manner. You both were drunk, after all.

You weren't sure what to do with your hands, finally choosing to place them on his shoulders. Wallace continued to graze your back with his heavenly touch, eventually going lower. His hand snaked under your shirt just slightly, the fabric covered his fingertips. The feeling of his cold hand made you shiver and straighten up slightly, breaking the kiss. Wallace looked at you, making sure you're still in on it.

"What is it? Do you need to stop?" His hand still stayed idly on your skin, even though he didn't look up to stopping, he still took the time to check if you're feeling okay with the situation.

"No, you're just making me-" You weren't actually sure why you even continued speaking after 'no', feeling the regret of not keeping your mouth shut almost immediately.

"Making you what?" The playful, sultry look was once again apparent in his expression.

"I'm drunk! ... You're gonna make me," You mumbled the last part, trying to save yourself from even more embarrassment,

"...horny"

You were fully aware of not being able to recover from that. Wallace raised his eyebrow, visibly amused at your attempt to salvage your dignity.

"I mean, Is that a bad thing?"

He leaned in even closer, not being able to take his eyes off of your flustered face. "If I'm bein' 'onest- I'm pretty damn turned on right now too. But, of course, if you wanna stop, I'll totally respect that."

The honesty in Wallace's words had you stunned. You never imagined being in this situation, drunk, making out with your best friend, in public. It scared you a little, but you would rather die than stop right now. "N-no, I wanna continue. But, maybe not here?" You pointed out the lack of privacy around you.

"You're right, I think we should head home," he concluded, untangling his arms from you, "Scott is sleepovering at Ramona's so my house's free." The nonchalance in his voice had you impressed.

"Alright," you said, getting off from his lap, lightly adjusting your clothes after. You were so busy with everything that happened that you forgot about your Mimosa. You both finished your drinks in quick gulps, leaving the glasses on the table. As you made your way out of the loud club, the gravity of this moment fell on you like a bag of bricks. Were you gonna actually hook up with Wallace? Is this where you're heading to? You felt incredibly anxious and excited.

The walk remained quiet, but Wallace didn't seem to treat it as uncomfortable silence. He just walked straight, enjoying the scenery around you. You wished you could say the same. Most of your mind was filled with predictions of how the night is gonna turn out. A feeling of a warm hand touching yours pulled you away from the intrusive thoughts. Wallace didn't even need to do much to have you wrapped around his finger. The gesture made you calm down a little, which made you actually slow down and appreciate the calm atmosphere of the night. The street lamps made your figures cast a big shadow on the ground, fully showing your connected silhouette together.

You barely noticed the distance you walked, it seemed like just a moment before you were already standing by the entrance to his house. Wallace let go of your hand to get the keys that have been buried deep in his pocket. The doors opened after a short while of fighting with the lock. He turned on the light, letting you come in. The house was dead quiet, the only sound being your footsteps as you followed after him. Frankly, you didn't know what to expect.

Wallace turned to look at you, a sly yet playful smile plastered on his face. "Welcome to my humble abode," he still tried to keep the mood lighthearted and silly, clearly in a good mood. He gestured around the room with his free hand.

...As if I wasn't here before," your playful snark returned for at least a moment. Even if you had these intense feelings for him, he was still your best friend, always able to get the fun side out of you.

His laughter hit your ears in the most pleasant way. He shrugged, conceding to your point. "Yeah, tha's true. You've been here before," he admitted, taking a few steps closer to you. "But there's somethin' different about the atmosphere now, isn't there?"

"..Aa lot of alcohol, probably." There was no use of hiding what you two already did and were about to do, but as a final resort, you tried to at least put a playful spin on it.

Wallace chuckled, finding your quip amusing. "Yeah, alcohol probably has somethin' to do with it," he agreed. "But there's more, right?"

"What- what are you implying?"

"Y/N, I'm not gonna pretend as if I don't see you drooling over me."

A wave of extreme tension in your body had you frozen for a good moment - he knew?

"I- Wow, okay-" you tried your best to let out a nonchalant chuckle, which came out sounding more like a stressed cackle, "I guess- I guess the cat is out of the bag now huh-" His expression softened ever so slightly, your reactions were just too pathetic for him to keep pushing you. He moved even closer to you, making your body instinctively move back into the wall. "Wait- If you knew, why didn't you tell me?"

"I waited for you to have the guts to tell me, but I guess you had to be helped with that a little."

You honestly didn't know whether to be ashamed, angry, or relieved.

"And," he continued, "now that it's out there, I can say I waited a long time to find myself in this situation. So," he left your side for a moment to lock the doors, "you wanna continue what we left off?"

You were eager to respond with a confident yes, but before that, you had to make sure you were on the same page. "This... isn't like your usual boytoy hookup situation, right...?"

The boldness drained from his face for a moment, his expression softened to get a bit more sincere. "No, of course not. You're my best friend." He embraced you with one of his arm, pulling you closer. He got uncharacterestically hesitant before speaking again. "...Potentially more."

The last two words made your eyes widen rapidly, you surely misheard him?

"You're- serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious," he didn't break the eye contact with you for a second, prefering to lay it on thick, "unless I'm totally wasted, and imagining things, but-"

"I saw Sparks. I questioned if they're even real-" He added, sounding as if he doesn't believe them himself. You could not contain your excitement after Wallace mentioned exactly what you wanted him to say.

"I saw them too!" You chimed in, finally letting your inner thoughts out. That admission made Wallace's smile even wider than he did before.

"I'm glad we're on the same page then,", he used his other hand to turn your chin towards his face. "You look so fucking hot," he tried his best so his speech wouldn't slur. The sentence rang in your head, making you freeze during the moment when Wallace collided his lips with yours again. In no time, his palm was on your side again, swiftly travelling under your shirt to touch the goosebumps covered skin. An involuntary moan forced it's way out of you due to Wallace's tongue invading your mouth. In the current moment, you could be his bitch forever.

You supported yourself by leaning on the wall behind you, Wallace taking up almost all of your view by now. Despite the cigarette flavor of his tongue mixed with the potent alcohol perfume clouding your senses, you managed to hear a request coming from the other boy.

"Let's move," he whispered, taking your hand and leading you to his favorite chair. Feeling like a lovestruck teenager, you mindlessly followed. He seated himself comfortably, pulling you on his lap. His eyes showed unrestricted eagerness, not even trying to hide how much he was enjoying himself. You felt overwhelmed at the ease in which Wallace could fire you up with just his usual way of being. The proximity between you two got almost nonexistent, his bangs tickled you slightly as he moved closer. The sensation got overshadowed by his lips sucking a sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to half-whimper. The noise cringed you internally, you were still not used to calling Wallace your official boyfriend, so this slip-up felt like a vulnerable response to your give your best friend. Wallace would not pass up the opportunity to comment on it.

"Awh, don't be embarrassed," he stopped to smirk, "that sound you made was adorable." Wallace's teasing wasn't an uncommon thing among you two on the regular, but the way his words were currently coated with a playful banter and visible desire could just melt you right then and there.

The shallow pants of yours echoing in his ears turned sharper as he continued to trail a line of hickeys on your skin. You squirmed on his crotch, not being able to control the way your body acted. Wallace lightly dug his fingers into your thigh during the pleasant friction. It didn't take long for you to feel the obvious change of your seat under you. Wallace's arousal was making itself known in the most straightforward display. He noticed the way your body tensed, "Like what you see?" He half-lidded his eyes, searching for more of that coy expression he loved seeing on you.

"...Shut up." You chuckled tiredly, hiding the flustered smile in the crook of his neck.

"Really? I thought you liked me talking." He grinned, "guess I will shut up then..."

"Well-"

"Ah, you want compliments only, don't you?" You must have been a glass window with how easily he could see right through you to be able to respond so fast.

"Who doesn't, Wallace?" you tried to fight back, making his amused smirk wider.

"If you keep acting like a good boy, I'll call you one - deal?"

You didn't trust your voice to answer with a required nonchalance, so you just nodded.

"I need words, Y/N" He squinted, testing you.

"I- I will." You raised your head to look at him, trying hard not to avert your gaze.

"Good boy," he purred, letting a grin contort the corners of his lips. "Now why don't you take care of that?"

Wallace didn't have to wait long for your curious hand to slowly travel down his zipper. You were really about to see his dick, and it stressed you out a little. The torturous tempo of your movements made Wallace impatient, "it ain't gonna bite, guy."

"Shush, I know!" You retorted, feeling your cheeks heat up. After that remark, you made sure to finish freeing him pretty fast. A sight you probably imagined a few times in your mind, yet never in a million years expected to see in real life. He couldn't ignore your gaze almost drilling a hole into his groin. As a man who paid great attention to self-care, of course he kept himself well-trimmed.

"Go ahead, touch me," his command got stuck in your mind. Your fingers hesitantly traced the shape of his member, getting used to the girth and warmth of it.

"You ever gave a handie to anyone?" The blunt words were nothing new coming from Wallace. You shook your head. "That's fine, I'll teach you." He spread his legs more comfortably, leaning into the chair and resting his arm on your thigh. He guided you to mimic the pace he liked. You made a mental note of his technique, it wasn't hard to follow.

"Just like that" he eased his breath, releasing a relaxed sigh and letting go off your hand. "You're doing pretty good."

The strong focus on the motion made you forget your previous worries, a need to pleasure him was your sole objective. A few drops of precum that gathered on his tip betrayed how much he enjoyed himself.

"Mm, alright, that's enough." You stopped upon hearing his words, looking up for further instructions. "Go lay on the futon."

You did as he told, quietly pleased at how casual yet commanding his voice could get. He got up from his chair, towering above you with an obviously visible erection, most importantly, caused by you. He took a moment to admire the sight before him. You were too occupied by the look on his face to think of anything smart to say. A smug look on his face warned you just before you felt his knee rub against your crotch. He had no troubles getting sounds out of you.

"I wanna see you. Can I take off your shirt?" Wallace broke the silence. The need in his voice showed clearly, yet he still managed to sound confident.

"I'm... You wanna see me?" You hesitated, not wanting to ruin the fun, yet feeling incredibly insecure with the topic like that.

"In return, I'll let you see some of me," he winked, completely serious about the exchange.

"But I'm not- flat, you know?" You muttered out, completely accepting the fact that Wallace had probably seen countless of pretty men to compare you to.

"Y/N, don't look too much into it." He started, A chest is a chest. I couldn't care less if you got a bit of manboobs going on." You scrunched your face a little in an embarrassed smile, looking away. "You could always put the shirt back on if my skills won't be able to persuade you otherwise," he looked pleased after seeing your approval nod.

His fingertips moved the shirt up and you raised your arms to help it go over your head. He didn't comment on the binder you wore, quickly coming up with a way to rid you of it. You appreciated not being tightly squeezed by the fabric anymore, but the slightly cold air hitting your skin had you feeling very exposed. The hesitation reflected in your eyes quite visibly, making you hold your breath. "Well, the shirt's off - and you still look tasty," his attempt at flustering you obviously worked - no matter what crude thing he said, he could pull it off entirely.

To continue with the theme, his tongue moved down to your collarbones, then lazily fell onto yours stomach, until it reached the waistband of your boxers. Your sight followed his every action, catching a glimpse of his self-assured smirk at the end. "Don't worry, I'm keeping my part of the deal," in the blink of your eye, he was already out of his shirt, pointing all of your attention onto his abs.

You had seen Wallace shirtless a few times already, but never up so close. Alcohol restraining the control of your actions made you curiously reach out to touch his chest, but you managed to stop yourself before you actually made contact with his skin. You looked at Wallace, silently asking for permission. He chuckled lightly, "knock yourself out." The casual tone forced you to feel sinful about yourself.

His chest was smooth, flat. You were quite jealous, but also sincerely admired his physique. You wanted to trace over every spot.

"I'm gonna touch you. That alright with you, guy?" The faster heartbeat made it harder to properly focus, "Mhm."

His hand disappeared under the hem of your underwear, just to resurface once more after being met with the arousal pooling out of you. "Oh," he commented, looking at the state of his hand, "how cute." He licked the mess off his fingers, making sure to hold eye contacts as he did so. You couldn't deny you were under his spell, not even having any response for him while your wide eyes looked at him licking his lips.

"Y/N, I barely touched you." He spared you no teasing, which you honestly expected at this point.

"What am I supposed to respond to that?" You tried to restore some parts of your dignity.

"How about you start with what you want me to do?" The voice you heard was sweeter than honey.

"I want you to dom me." You disclosed your thoughts, hoping it wasn't too forward.

"Oh, that'll be easy - I'm already doing that." He flashed you his teeth in a smirk of a banterish nature.

"...Like, you, in me. Soon." Your words fumbled due to the percentages mixed lust. He didn't try to hide his chuckle, making you flustered and impatient.

"Okay, okay- you're so needy." He teased, yet was quick to take off the last thing that covered your body. Your legs clasped together out of habit, making Wallace gently rest his hand on your knee, moving it down your thigh.. It made you part them, giving him the access to you. You felt- really naked like that. And he still had his pants on.

"Just so we're on the same page, uh- Just- Just treat me if I was a normal guy." You tried to eloquently put into words how you wanted him to have you.

"Stop. You are a normal guy," he squinted his eyes while observing you, "but I think I know what you mean. You ever tried anything by yourself in that matter?"

"I have some... toys. Yeah." The admission made Wallace pleased.

"Good. It's gonna feel way better than a dildo." He hyped you up effortlessly.

"...Prove it." You found some of the fierceness back in you, making him cock his eyebrow in amusement. Wallace leaned further, trying to reach under the pillow you were currently resting your head on. It amused you to look at him losing balance while trying to search for something under it. He frowned upon realizing the bottle of lube he was holding was empty.

"What!" He sat on your thighs for a moment while examining the offending item. "I was sure there was still some left."

"Keeping the lube under your pillow?? Classy." You recalled back what he told you a while ago.

"Where else would you keep it? It's my house." He furrowed his brows in amusement.

"I guess it is handy when it's closeby."

"When it's full, yeah," he put down the empty bottle somewhere where it wouldn't bother your vision. "Well then,"

He moved himself closer to you, using a finger to part your lips. "Lick."

Wallace quickly felt your tongue leave a hefty amount of saliva on his digit. "Good boy, you're a fast learner."

With the required lubrication, he made sure to prepare you pretty well. His experience in the topic wasn't hard to notice, as his movements were bold yet pretty gentle.

"Aren't you gonna turn me on my stomach?" You asked, voice quivering a little from the uncanny sensation.

"So I could miss those pretty faces you're gonna make for me? No way, sweetheart."

The nickname, even though playful in nature, still made you extremely coy.

"Now, keep looking at me." He pushed one of his finger into you, making you groan lightly. It was hard, but you kept your stare pointed at him despite feeling vulnerable. Lots of saliva proved useful for his finger to move without any unnecessary friction. You kept quiet, mostly just huffing out the labored breaths as he searched for the sweet spot in you.

"You don't have to hold back with the sounds. I like them."

"...I feel silly." You dropped a hint of your internal thoughts.

"Oh no, you feel silly because I'm making you feel good? Right, why should I be able to hear I'm doing a good job?" He pointed out the flaws in your logic.

"You know you're doing a good job" You squinted, looking at him.

"How can I know that if you don't communicate with me, hm?" Adding a second finger, he found the most efficient pace to repetitively hit your bundle of nerves. Each thrust made you tingle, forcing a few pants out of you. Still being met with silence from your side, he turned his movements excruciatingly slow.

"W- Wallace...!" You groaned, desperation seeping into your words.

"Yes, Y/N? Is the pace not to your liking?"

The torturous loop forced the words out of you, "Faster- The way you were doing it before was perfect." Wallace immediately resumed to his previous technique, "See how easily you can get what you want with words?" You paired a smile with a roll of your eyes to cover your shame.

"Anything else you want me to do?" He offered.

"Could you, uh, touch me as well?" Somehow a simple guide on what you expected from him seemed like you were beyond needy.

Wallace wordlessly fulfilled your request. You closed your eyes, determined to focus on the buildup rising in you. Wallace's ability to operate with both of his hands in such a precise way made you feel like a board that DJ's play on. This random thought made you chuckle involuntarily, of course gaining a head tilt from the man.

"What's so funny?" He slowed down his movements so he could hear you speak.

"I had a dumb thought-" You grinned, feeling silly for ruining 'the moment', "It's just- you do the thing so skillfully, like a DJ." Wallace stopped completely, the sound of his drunken laughter followed right after.

"Wow, I woulda expect Scott to come up with something like that, not you." He couldn't even mock a look of disapproval, joy too insistent to stay on his face. "But I can't say I don't find your stupidity adorable."

"Anyway, I think I finished mixing the song." He added onto the joke.

"Awh, what! Not fair." You scolded yourself for voicing your stupid thoughts before reaching your orgasm.

"Not fair? You don't wanna finally start with the main course?" He squinted his eyes in a smirk, leaning to grab something from under another pillow again.

"Mm, you drive a hard bargain."

You looked as he tried to find whatever he looked for, checking at least 2 more times before finally lifting up the pillow to see nothing there. This discovery made him groan in frustration, "Scott took the stash of condoms to Ramona. Of course."

"Ew, they're gonna have sex." You commented, completely acknowledging the irony of your current situation. It made him chuckle.

"So, guy- I know we're both drunk but we still gotta be responsible adults. What d'you wanna do?" He pointed his focus on you. "I'm clean, checked it recently."

"I haven't been with anyone yet, so..." Your gaze wandered on his body to avoid his eyes. You noticed he still had his pants on, a fact he realized right after you, finally taking them off.

"Alright," he concluded, nearing his hips closer to yours "you're sure about this, right?"

"Yes- One hundred percent." You lightly hug his sides with your knees.

"Okay. I'll go slow at first."

You spent the next few moments adjusting to the sudden warmth and stiffness residing in you. He was right. It didn't compare to the toys you had. He moved further while still almost fully pressed into you, brushing the right spot to make you moan. He wouldn't neglect your most sensitive area, bringing his two fingers to move in a circular motion. His pelvis met yours in a series of slow and deep thrusts.

"...Wallace," you moved your hand to trace over his chest, "faster, please."

"Since you asked so nicely," the rhythmic slaps of bare skin echoed through the house with more vigor. Wallace was sure of his good work, judging by the mewls coming out of your mouth. He also didn't spare you the array of lewd sounds. "I haven't been this horny in forever." He continued to whisper more sultry encouragements near your ear, "You have the sweetest voice when you say my name."

"Wallace-" you whimpered, desperate for more praise. "...Almost-" it took great effort to keep your composure, the euphoria threatened to overwhelm you very soon.

"Come on, Y/N. Show me how good I'm making you feel." The tension building up in your abdomen finally caught up to you with a jolt of pleasure. Your fingers dug into his sides, your legs entangled themselves into his body, pushing him even deeper into you. His ears were hit with the lovely noise of you riding your high, him helping you through it by continuing to keep the steady movements.

He let you rest for a while, the break filled the room with your heavy panting. The grip in your fingers loosened, just for him to take it as a sign to resume to the previous pace. It didn't take long for him to see the stars as well, pulling out of you with the desperate mention of your name. You felt the warm liquid hit your bare stomach. Wallace hovered above you, the sounds of your labored breaths melted together.

"...You made a mess," you broke the silence with a playful remark.

"My bad," he leaned to the source of the problem, placing a bold lick along your body. The gesture made you squirm a little, even more so after seeing Wallace wipe a bit of the semen stuck to the corner of his mouth.

"I want a kiss," you dared to request, making him raise his brow at the sudden bluntness. He inched closer, letting you feel the remnants of his salty flavor in a deeper kiss.

"I didn't take you for such a kinky person." He laid himself next to you.

"Said the guy who just licked his own cum off me." You quipped back, showing a smile to show you're not serious.

"Yeah - and you still wanted a kiss."

The proximity led you to initiate the snuggles, moving past the banter that led to nowhere. Wallace put the covers on both of you, adjusting himself comfortably to the new position. His arm was behind your back and your head laid comfortably on his chest. The faint sound of his heartbeat was comforting to hear.

"...It won't be weird to us tomorrow, right?" You murmured, seeking some reassurance. Wallace opened up his eye to look at you.

"I don't see why it would be. Unless you secretly hated it this whole time" He started playing with your hair, making it twirl around his finger.

"It was- awesome." He chuckled at the choice of your words.

"Agreed, guy."

"...So, can I officially call you my boyfriend?" You asked, hoping you knew the answer.

"Only if I can do the same around others."

#scott pilgrim takes off x reader #spto x reader #wallace wells #wallace wells x reader #smut #x reader #scott pilgrim takes off #trans reader #transmasc reader #fanfic #fanfiction

204 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Text

falling again

for @starrystevie's birthday. i hope your day is as stunningly beautiful as you are and that this super short thing is something that brings you some joy ♥️

cw: mild blood and injury | rated e, 18+, minors dni

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

nothing can prepare you for the moment you fall.

whether it's while walking, on a roller coaster, or in love, you can never truly be ready for the stomach-swooping, heart-stopping moment of realization.

steve's had this feeling plenty.

when he was young, he fell from a branch of a tree and nearly broke his leg. tommy rushed to get his mom, who scolded him the entire drive to the emergency room, claiming that he must get this silly adventurous side from his father. but the moment before he fell, he saw blue and green, the sky and the grass meeting together to make a serene picture before the pain blistered across his skin. even in the peace, he felt a sense of dread.

when he fell for nancy, it was much the same, but all he saw was pink. her lightly tinted chapstick, her favorite sweater, the notebook she always jotted homework assignments in. steve felt that softness pillowing his head as he dreamt about her every night, picturing a future that would be taken before he could even hit the ground. but even in his dreams, a blackness curled around the edges.

falling into the upside down isn't graceful, but it gets easier with practice. as he falls one last time, he sees gray and red, sadness and guilt and blood. it's all dread. it's all anger. it's pain and regret. and it's a fall he hopes is worth the nausea.

when he finds eddie, alone, sitting in a corner of a home he doesn't recognize, dust floating around him as a warning, he falls again. he doesn't recognize the sinking feeling, the sharp intake of breath, the moment when the world spins and gravity forgets to have a purpose. he focuses on saving this man who did everything to save the town that hated him.

he helps him stand.

"i can't walk," eddie gasps just as steve sees why.

his ankle is broken, much like dustin's was. it's bloody and angled wrong, a sign of weakness to creatures that surely lurk in the shadows waiting for any sound or movement of their prey. it wasn't obvious at first because steve was too caught up in him being alive.

"i can carry you."

and he does.

steve carries him for half a mile, meets up with el at the same spot he came through. no one says anything.

steve falls, but this time, it's into gold and orange and yellow. this time, he has eddie with him.

he doesn't think about that falling feeling again until he's sitting by eddie's bedside in the hospital. he's sitting in a chair, alone except for eddie asleep in his bed and the constant whirring and beeping of machines making sure he stays alive and heals, when he feels it. a turn of the stomach. a pull in his chest. a tingling in his hands.

the silver of eddie's rings catch his eye. despite being covered in dirt and grime from hell, the rings shine.

steve looks at eddie's calm face, his eyes closed as he finally gets to rest in a safe place and feel no pain.

he feels his throat tighten around an inhale, his fingers clench without his permission. his leg bounces.

he's restless and the only reason he can think as to why is because he's falling.

he doesn't say anything, not to eddie, or robin when she gives him a weird look, or dustin when he outright asks why he seems so jumpy.

he doesn't say he's afraid. he doesn't say that something is bubbling inside him, begging to pour out, make a mess of something that should be simple. he doesn't say that the reason he never gave up on eddie is because he'd already been at the top of the hill and there was no backing out now.

but he can't refuse eddie when he asks.

they're finally alone again days later, and eddie watches steve puttering around his hospital room, tidying up the mess the kids left behind during visiting hours. steve can feel his eyes on him, but doesn't look back. if he looks, he'll hit the ground, and he's been hovering inches above for too long to let it happen right now.

"have a seat, stevie."

"in a minute."

"steve."

eddie's tone tells him he sees him hovering above the ground. eddie's voice says that he knows the fall was hard on him, and that he knows he's trying to stay off the ground.

when steve looks at him, his eyes say he's ready to catch him.

when steve sits, the fall is over, and the coasting starts.

there's a corkscrew later, when eddie gets an infection and has to stay in the hospital for another week.

and another drop when he gets home and finds that the town still hates him, that his uncle was forced out of hawkins because no one understands what he did to protect them all.

an unexpected turn leads to their first fight, the one that almost had steve giving up on roller coasters altogether.

but eddie never lets go of his hand. he's in the seat next to him, holding tight, making sure that they can feel the butterflies together. even when they have to leave hawkins, and the kids, and when eddie can't see his uncle wayne for months, he keeps steve next to him. even when his scars don't heal right and he hates the way the one on his neck looks, he lets steve's hand cover his.

and when holding hands isn't quite enough, when they both have to freefall from a plane not knowing exactly where they'll land, eddie's arms wrap around steve, holding him so they can pull the parachute together.

when they find that the darkness is too much, they chase light with hands against scars, reminding each other that there’s still blood flowing in their veins. lips press against freckles and dimples, tongues trace imperfections that feel like a gift.

grips tighten against thighs, legs parting while fingerprint bruises are left behind.

they’re made to fit into each other, push and pull like the tide, giving more than the other knows how to receive. they take turns stretching each other open until they’re sore the next day, smiling to themselves and each other as they go about their day with a reminder of their night.

steve and eddie become steveandeddie, and just when steve thinks the roller coaster has reached the station and he can get off the ride, it starts all over again. every time is a new fall, a drop that he knows will just end in more pleasure and happiness and fun.

nothing prepared steve for this fall, not even the ones he had before. but part of the beauty of falling for eddie munson was the unknown.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #birthday fic #drabble #i genuinely don't know what this is #do not ask i do not know #but i hope that you enjoy it #and i hope it makes you cry in a good way

200 notes · View notes

sunflowersandsapphires · 1 year ago

Text

A Hint of Lovely Oblivion

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: After a week of sleeping terribly, Frank makes an effort to help you get the rest you deserve.

warnings: Swearing, fluff, caring Frank, this is not medical advice

a/n: I wrote this for my lovely bestie @madschiavelique who wanted some Frankie comfort. As someone who deals with insomnia pretty regularly, this was very cathartic! I hope you all enjoy. A huge thank you to my other bestie @gracethyomen for beta-ing and helping me plan this fic!

w/c: 4.6k

Inhaling deeply, the frigid air of the room made your nose twitch. Sliding as deep as you could into the blanket pile while maintaining your seated position, you bit your lip, shifting the pad of paper on your lap and craning your neck once again. While your duvet provided an excellent shield to lock in heat, your shoulders inevitably poked out whenever you weren’t fully horizontal, leaving your body to sit in a temperature regulation purgatory; your consciousness rumbled uneasily as the hair on the back of your neck refused to flatten, your brain torn between making you shiver or letting you sweat. The position was far from comfortable—but being awake all night made comfort an unattainable goal for you anyways.

It had been days since you’d slept through the night. You were no stranger to insomnia, you’d been cursed with it your entire life, but lately it had dug its malicious claws into your chest with the violence of a starving feral animal. Your bed, which used to be a haven of rest and relaxation, was now a space that you avoided at all costs—the wonderfully soft pillows and warm blankets mocking you as they sat untouched well into the night, fatigue never overtaking you when you needed it to. For the first few nights of your ongoing battle with sleeplessness, you’d crawl under the covers anyway, praying to any deity listening that the weight and heat of the fabric would force your eyelids to close—but it never did.

Sighing as your pencil tip snapped, you closed your eyes, letting your breath rest in your lungs for a moment before exhaling again; apparently your frustration with your own hormone production created a physical pressure on the lead of your pencil. Picking up a fresh one from your nightstand, you did your best to clean up the smear of graphite from the impact of the broken point.

Turning your attention back to the subject of your sketch, you chewed your lip to stifle a smile. Despite the thick curtains your partner had insisted on, a sliver of moonlight illuminated the massive man slumbering beside you, quietly snoring away—completely oblivious to the inspiration he'd given you. The feather-light moon beams shone through his tousled hair, creeping down over his face, which was adorably mashed against his singular pillow. Considering that he'd turned up a handful of hours ago drenched in other people's blood, it was downright ironic to be calling him “adorable” as he slept—but you couldn't shake the giddy feeling that always bubbled up when you saw his face so lax with sleep. His expression was so uncharacteristically peaceful, it never failed to make you happy.

Sure, not sleeping sucked. You'd be plagued with jaw-cracking yawns and mild memory loss in the morning, just like yesterday and the day before that. Having the opportunity to watch Frank sleep soundly, didn't make up for the fact that you'd accidentally put orange juice in your coffee yesterday, but it made the build up of irritation much easier to bear. Which is why you'd decided to memorialize it in your sketchbook.

Studying the map of shadows on Frank's handsome face, you scratched the pencil over the thick paper, the rasping sound soothing the constant buzzing in your brain. Scrunching your nose as you tried to smooth out the sketch in front of you, you nearly jumped out of your skin when he spoke.

“Why're you up, darlin'?” His voice was rough with exhaustion. Noticing your wide eyes and ragged inhale, a large hand slid up to rest on your thigh. “Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya.”

”It's alright, Frankie. I wasn't paying attention.“ You tried to laugh, but the sound died in your throat.

His hand stroked over your leg as he waited for you to answer his question. Instead, your eyes remained trained on the book across your lap, pencil moving fluidly through the silence. Tracing a thumb over your warm skin, Frank frowned. “Ya didn't answer my question, sweetheart.”

“Hmm?” Your tone was innocent, but the way your eyes remained glued to your work was enough to tell him you had definitely heard the question.

Squeezing your thigh with a yawn, Frank tried not to groan as he dragged himself up to sit next to you. His movement finally captured your attention, your brow furrowing as you set your pencil aside. “What are you doing?”

Giving what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug, Frank slid an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple. ”Sittin' with my girl. That a crime now?“

Smiling despite the guilt flaring in your chest, you shoved at his solid torso feebly. ”Go back to sleep, Frankie. I'm sorry I woke you. I can—“ Shuffling in your seat, you tilted towards the edge of the mattress, fully intending to relocate to a different room so that Frank could go back to bed. Foiling your plan, Frank's arms held fast against your teetering, pulling you flush against his chest.

”Don't you dare.“ He growled, chin resting atop your crown.

”Frank! I didn't even finish my thought,“ You wriggled against his hold, your brain torn between reacting with endearment or annoyance over being imprisoned by his strength. “Let me go, you...you...butthead.” Whining at your own lackluster insult, you buried your face in Frank's neck as he chuckled.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Ain't gotta go for my throat like that.” Frank murmured smugly. You could envision his shit-eating smirk despite it being out of your line of sight.

”Shut up,“ You muttered, a tiny smile gracing your lips against your will. Your body trembled as Frank shook with rumbling laughter. Drawing you into his arms, Frank set your legs over his lap, positioning you towards the windows. The gusting heat from the vent closest to your bed ruffled the fabric covering the panes, the pale glowing rays of moonlight fluttering over your knees as the drapes shifted. It created a mesmerizing dance of light and dark, captivating you.

”Ya gonna tell me how long you've been sittin' here starin' at me or did ya wanna keep pretendin' you were asleep?” In defense of your ruthlessly persistent boyfriend, it has been said that the third time’s the charm. His tone was as delicate as his gruff voice allowed, the muscles of his jaw and throat rippling against your scalp as he spoke.

Eyes falling closed, you focused on the warmth of Frank’s body surrounding you as you willed the tears pricking your eyes to back down. Another unfortunate side effect of sleep deprivation—your emotions started to go haywire over the littlest things.

It wasn’t that you thought Frank would be angry. Well, it wasn’t the biggest anxiety on your mind, at least. It was more the fear of burdening him with your own issues at all hours when you knew a good night’s sleep was practically a miracle for him. The first night at home after a few weeks away always seemed to make it come easier, but other than that Frank rarely rested. The mere thought of forcing him to sit up with you, especially on the one night this week he’d get a full 8 hours, grabbed your guilty conscience by the throat.

Giving a halfhearted shrug, you caved. “Dunno. Slept for a few hours when we went to bed. Then I got up and...” Trailing off, you gestured to the bed in front of you, which was clearly not being used for sleep.

Frank withdrew from the embrace and your pounding heart sank. You set your jaw, waiting for the frustrated scolding…but it never came. Instead, one calloused finger landed underneath your chin, tilting it upwards as he spoke. “You been awake that long?” His eyes shone with concern, boring ferociously into yours.

Nodding miserably, you swallowed the overwhelming shame crawling up your esophagus before speaking. “I’m sorry, Frank. I tried to sleep, but I just couldn’t—“

Cutting you off with a tender kiss, Frank’s hand moved to cup your cheek. “Nothin’ to be sorry about, honey. Ya shoulda woken me up.”

Looking up at him with glossy eyes, you bit your lip, ”You deserve to sleep uninterrupted. I didn't want to be the one to take that away from you.“

Frank chewed the inside of his cheek as he was overrun with waves of adoration and sympathy for you. How he'd managed to end up with such a considerate partner, he'd never know. Especially when he didn't consistently return the gesture.

He'd come home yesterday and practically collapsed into your arms—ignoring how unsteady your balance seemed when you dragged him into the apartment, blaming it on his own weight. You'd patched him up sweetly, as you always did, and Frank hadn't thought twice about the fact that you'd had to leave the room three times to get the gauze, assuming your memory had just been shaken by his battered appearance.

Was he truly so wrapped up in his own bullshit that he hadn't noticed the sunken crescents underneath your eyes? They were so prominent now, stark sepia bruises on your otherwise even skin. It must have been days since you slept properly. Beside himself with worry, his thumb traced the indent under your left eye. ”Shit sweetheart...“

”I'm—“ You started to apologize, but it stuck in your throat when Frank shook his head.

”Hey, none of that. Don't wanna hear it, ok?” You nodded in response to his gentle command, sitting there quietly as he schemed. “Are you tired at all?”

The pitiful shake of your head seemed to make up his mind.

Unwinding from you, he raised his arms above his head in a stretch, moaning as his back popped with the movement. Your face scrunched in disapproval, making him grimace sheepishly. “Sorry, honey. Guess I was stiff from drivin' all day.” Without waiting for your response, he slid out of bed. Your brow furrowed as he strode over to the dresser, pulling a shirt over his rumpled hair.

“Get dressed, darlin'. I have an idea.” He called to you over his shoulder as he rummaged for a clean pair of pants. Sighing, you abandoned the bubble of heat surrounding you in bed and headed for the closet.

Despite your grumbles and evident confusion, the two of you were dressed and on the road before the sun even peeked over the horizon. With one hand settled in yours, Frank kept his gaze trained on the road ahead, trying not to laugh at your exasperated questioning and adorable pout. Dragging you out of the house at this hour might not have been his brightest idea—since he normally tried to remain on your good side—but hey, he’d gotten this far without you chewing his head off.

Frank could hardly be considered a morning person, but you were practically nocturnal. Leaving the house before dawn was probably high up on your list of personal hells, but staying in bed when you couldn’t sleep wasn’t a good idea. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Curtis’s agitated tone.

“For the last time, Frank: staying in bed will make it worse.”

Way back in the day, during his first trip home after going overseas, he’d bugged Curtis relentlessly about his own sleep issues. Maria was tired enough raising a wandering toddler and an imaginative kindergartener, she didn’t need to worry about a restless marine to boot. He’d tried every suggestion under the sun, but sleep still evaded him. Tour after tour, night after night, he’d lay beside his wife in their bed and stare at the ceiling until his alarm went off. After his family died, well…it didn’t exactly get easier to rest.

Despite scouring the internet, a few libraries, and the expanse of Curt’s brain for any possible cures, his sleeplessness persisted. It was a torture he endured for years, and an anguish he wouldn’t wish on anyone but his worst enemies.

Finding out that you also dealt with insomnia was a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, not having to explain his fickle moods and constant absence from the bedroom was a welcomed relief. On the other, seeing the symptoms of sleep deprivation in someone he cared about was an agony worse than an infected bullet wound.

He knew what you were going through all too well, which meant he was determined to try and help. Getting you out of the house was just the first step of his admittedly too-detailed plan.

His lips twitched with a smile as he spotted the building. Turning into the ragged asphalt lot behind the restaurant, he turned his attention to you.

“We’re here, darlin’.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you remained unimpressed. “A diner?”

Letting out a bark of laughter at your obvious disdain for the activity, Frank pointed a finger at you in warning. “Hey, don’t knock it til ya try it, sweetheart.” His exaggerated stern expression broke through your apprehension, your lips turning upwards into a fond smile.

“There’s my pretty girl.” Frank pressed a kiss to your temple, heart swelling as you leaned into him. “If ya wanna go home, just say the word.”

Biting your lip, you glanced out the window at the electric blue awning extending from the glass doors. The yellow lamp lights lining the sidewalk reflected in your wide eyes as you stared. “No, we can go. I, just…can I ask you a question first?”

“Course, honey. Anythin’.”

“Why here?” Your question was soft, but genuine; your curiosity was outweighing the contempt you’d previously shown for his choice of destination.

Running a hand through his hair, he gave a one-armed shrug. “Fuck, well... ya know I’m no stranger to the whole…not sleepin’ thing. And, uh, back in the early days, when it was real bad for me, I’d come here. We– er– Maria and I, we took the kids here a couple of times. Dunno, wanted to remember the good times, I guess, and it became a sort of tradition. Thought it might help you too.”

With a stuttering inhale, you reached for his hand, stroking a finger over his knuckles as you looked up at him shyly. “Thank you for sharing it with me. I didn’t mean to be rude about it, I’m sorry.”

Squeezing your fingers, he could feel heat creeping up his face. “It’s nothin’ sweetheart. Ain’t gotta worry about that.”

Glancing back out the window for a moment, Frank could see the gears turning in your head as you turned back to him with a tiny grin.

“Lead the way?” You asked tentatively.

“For you, sweet girl? Always.” He pressed a kiss to your hand, his stubble scratching at the skin of your fingers.

Frank ushered the two of you inside and into a booth in the back of the diner. The restaurant was lacking in customers, as could be expected given the early hour. While the inky black sky was broken up with dim streetlights outside of the building, the inside was flooded with fluorescent lights--so bright that you had to shield your eyes with a limp hand for a few minutes.

Once your vision adjusted, you had to admit that the energy in the diner was quite nice. The chipped linoleum tiles that lined the floor were a gorgeous cobalt blue. Along the ceiling, large chunks of the roof had been replaced with thick panes of glass, allowing you to watch the clouds float by, the darkness of the night contrasting beautifully with the intense lighting. You and Frank were seated on a worn vinyl booth, the strips of fabric alternating between silver and black. Similar booths wrapped around the space, almost twinkling as you looked at them.

“So,” Frank pushed a mug towards you. “Whaddya think?”

“It's nice.” You murmured, pulling the warm cup closer to yourself. Somehow you'd missed him ordering himself coffee and you a tea in your distracted state.

Frank cocked his head at you, lips turned up in a smug smirk. ”’S that so?“

Smiling into your mug as you took a sip, you retorted. ”Shut up.“

The drink was warm and, thankfully, unsweetened. It's crisp flavor relaxed your shoulders as you sipped, settling your anxious stomach.

“Hope mint is a’right.” Frank spoke quietly, a blush creeping up his face as he studied his own drink.

“You remembered.” You breathed out, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it tightly as your eyes prickled with emotion.

“Course I did.” Frank huffed, draining the rest of his black coffee. You shuddered in distaste and he chuckled, rubbing a thumb over the back of your hand. “You hungry at all?”

Shrugging noncommittally, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. Frank sighed, but didn't push further on the subject, which you were very grateful for. You'd never explicitly spoken to him about the effect your insomnia had on your eating habits, but--being the observant partner he was--he'd clearly picked up on it anyways. Once your day started with little to no sleep, it was like all of your bodily functions forgot how to...function. Hunger and thirst cues were practically impossible to read, your body and brain battling each other ferociously at every turn. Which, of course, just exhausted you further.

Scrubbing at one eye with the heel of your free hand, you grit your teeth to keep from groaning. Dwelling on how miserable you were going to feel today wouldn't solve anything, it would just worsen your mood.

”Head botherin' ya?“ Frank asked, brow folding in concern as he watched you knead at your forehead.

”No more than usual.“ You cracked a small smile, hoping that didn't sound as sad as you thought it did. “Just...frustrated with myself.”

“I feel ya, sweetheart. Not sleepin' ain't any fun. But I have some ideas, so don't you worry your pretty little head about it, ok?” Frank tangled his fingers with yours, his gaze earnest.

“You get ideas?” You scoffed, grinning when Frank rolled his eyes in return.

“Ya know what? Just for that, I ain't gonna tell ya about 'em.”

“Nooo,” You whined, taking Frank's massive hand in both of yours and pouting at him. ”I was just kidding. Please tell me.“

”Hmm, I dunno. First you insulted the diner, then my intelligence. Seems like you don't want my help, sweetheart.“ Frank withdrew from your grasp, pretending to sulk into his coffee.

Giggling at Frank’s pout, you reassured him. ”No, I do! I do!“

With a sad little shrug, Frank glanced forlornly out the window.

“Please Frankie,” Pleading with your gaze, you tried to keep a straight face. “You're my only hope.”

Dropping his startlingly believable moping act, Frank cackled. “Ya think you're real clever, don't ya?”

Smirking into your tea, you gulped down the last remnants with a shrug. ”Maybe.“

After your countless apologies for insulting his intellect, Frank finally explained why he'd encouraged–forced–you to leave the house before sunrise. Apparently he'd heard that staying in bed while awake could perpetuate the cycle of sleep deprivation. And, though you were loath to admit it, it seemed to help.

The little excursion definitely lifted your spirits, if nothing else. You were able to admire the sunrise and mess around with Frank without your anxiety skyrocketing because of the city crowds. It was nice, and you told him such–even at the risk of over-inflating his ego.

His next activity, however, was not as pleasant.

“Are you going to have me carry you around the apartment next?” You groused, hefting the bedframe up so that you could adjust your rapidly loosening grip on the cold metal. This much physical labor on an empty stomach and no sleep was not what you’d had in mind for a relaxing day with Frank. He, however, was insistent on moving the furniture in your room immediately upon your return home.

“You offerin'?” Frank smirked at you, pretending to set the bed frame down. His eyes glinted with a humor you didn’t share over the current situation.

“Fuck no.” You muttered, glaring at him until he lifted the majority of the weight once more. Frank laughed deeply.

“Set it right over here, darlin’. We gotta move your dresser and then we’re all done.”

“You know, if you hated the layout of my room so much, you could’ve told me months ago.” Instead of waiting until I was already reaching my limit. You thought to yourself, not vocalizing that particular vulnerability.

“And have you put me out on my ass for bein’ so forward? I’d never, sweetheart.” Frank chuckled, adjusting your bed as you collapsed against the mattress with a huff. “I’m teasin’, honey. It’s an old trick Curt told me about. All the rearrangin’ is supposed to help your brain remember how to sleep, or some shit.”

Rubbing at your forehead as the ache that had been plaguing you all day made a sudden resurgence, your limbs instinctively curled into fetal position as a small whimper escaped your lips.

“It’s helping it remember to bother me is what it’s doing.” You grumbled, gritting your teeth as the pain ebbed and flowed. You knew the more you thought about it, the more it would torture you–but the stabbing sensation was all that your fatigued brain could focus on right now.

Frank snorted, sitting beside you gingerly and caressing your hunched back with an open palm. “‘M sorry, sweet girl. Let me get ya some meds and you can lie here while I finish movin’ shit around.”

Your body felt like it was aimlessly floating, untethered to the Earth and hurrying to escape the pain so viciously attacking it at the moment. You were so tired. Every blink was a reminder of the heaven that had been ripped from your delicate grasp hours ago because your body couldn’t even function in the way it was designed to. Brow scrunching, you burrowed under the covers with a sigh.

“Ya better not be sleepin’ on me, honey.” Frank murmured as he stepped back into the room.

“Course not,” You mumbled. “Would never…”

“I know you’re tired, darlin’, but ya gotta stay awake until it’s dark. Naps will just make ya feel worse, trust me.” He trailed a finger down your arm, taking your hand and placing some painkillers into it. Waiting patiently until you begrudgingly dragged yourself into a seated position, Frank smiled softly at you as you popped the pills into your mouth. Holding the glass of water out to you, the Marine squeezed your leg as you drank, tucking his chin over your head as you collapsed wearily into his side.

“The big bad Punisher takes naps? Hard to picture, Frankie.” You teased, your voice morphing into a satisfied hum as he threaded his fingers into your hair.

Frank scoffed, kissing your crown before returning the jest. “Maybe I should take the vest off before closin’ my eyes next time.”

You giggled, burying your face into his neck. His warm flesh felt wonderful on your pounding head, soothing the pain behind your eyes with each measured breath. “Do you cuddle your guns like teddy bears?” The question was overtly ridiculous, but Frank loved you enough to entertain it anyway.

“Course. What else would I do with ‘em?” He asked coyly.

Looking up at him, the corners of your lips lifted as he pressed a line of gentle kisses down your nose until he reached your lips.

“If I turn on the TV, are ya gonna pass out on top of me?” He murmured, his stubble scratching your face as he spoke.

“Wouldn't dream of it, love.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to his sturdy jawline before he stood up to grab the remote.

If someone would’ve told you a year ago that your next boyfriend could make a bad insomnia week feel tolerable, you never would’ve believed them. But here you were—lying on your stomach completely topless as Frank massaged a lightly scented lotion into your back—feeling pretty comfortable with the whole arrangement.

After you’d failed to stay awake during the movie you’d picked out, Frank had carted you around town on various errands: picking up groceries, going to the bookstore, and even taking a quick walk around the park to feed the ducks, which he knew you loved. Your body still ached, and your mood still waned, but overall, it was a good day. And all the credit belonged to your incredible partner.

Groaning appreciatively, it felt like you were melting into the mattress as Frank tenderly stretched your taught muscles, unraveling the knots of stress that had been building up all week.

Chuckling, Frank pressed a tiny kiss to your bare shoulder. “Glad it feels good, sweetheart.”

“No, it’s awful,” You lied. “You clearly need more practice..”

Frank snorted, “Noted. How’re ya feelin’?”

“Tired.” You sighed, rolling over as Frank handed you one of his tees to sleep in.

“I bet. We’re on the last leg, sweetheart, almost there.” Frank’s large hands eagerly wrapped around you as you nestled into his side. Cupping your face with one palm, the fingers of his other hand threaded into your hair, detangling it carefully and brushing it off of your face.

Biting your lip in frustration, and to keep from sighing again, you nodded. Attempting an understanding smile, you poked him in the chest. “I know. Thanks for putting up with my cranky self today.”

“Sweetheart, you can be snappy with me as much as ya want if it means you’ll sleep through the night.” Frank smirked, squishing your cheek as your eyes suddenly blurred with tears.

“I love you.” You whispered, going limp in his hold as he settled against the pillows.

“I love you too, darlin’. So much.” Resting your foreheads together, he kissed you delicately and your lashes fluttered.

“Frankie?” You looked up at him with your practiced ‘doe eyes’ expression that he could never resist.

“Yah?” He raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Can you read to me?” Batting your lashes, you watched with satisfaction as Frank’s expression softened, your eyes taking in the exact moment he caved to your whims.

Straightening his posture stoically, he reached over to grab your new book from the nightstand with an exasperated huff. “Oh, I see. This was all a scheme of yours to get me to read to ya? ‘S that it?”

“No…” You giggled, nuzzling into him as he cracked the novel open.

“Sure, sure. You’ll be hearin’ from my lawyer, sweetheart. Think ya owe me compensation.” He winked at you, eyes lingering on your face.

“Honey, before ya drift off, jus’...” Sighing, he stroked a thumb over your cheek. “Just know, if all this doesn’t work, cause it ain’t a cure all, ya know–”

Laying your hand over his, you gave him an encouraging look. He inhaled sharply, thinking about how he wanted to phrase the sentiment.

“I want you to sleep, darlin’, ya know I do. But if it doesn’t happen tonight, we can always try again, ok?”

Startled by the affection in his tone and his beautiful promise, your face went slack as you nodded. Eyes flitting over your gaze, he nodded curtly once he decided you understood. Returning his attention to the book in his hands, he cleared his throat before beginning to read. His rumbling velvet tone soothed you, your eyes falling closed almost immediately. Here, in the safety of Frank’s arms, surrounded by his beautiful voice and reassured by his adorable promise, you finally felt at peace. Though you knew sleep might continue to evade you, the anxiety you’d felt about your insomnia didn’t feel quite as all-consuming tonight. Whatever happened, Frank would be there. And, for now, that was enough.

Thanks for reading!!

#frank castle #my writing #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #the punisher netflix #the punisher imagine #punisher #netflix the punisher #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x you #fc

263 notes · View notes

https-furina · 2 years ago

Text

— i love you endlessly ! ★ | edition: siblings, version 1.0

ft. lyney + lynette, kaeya + diluc, aether + lumine & albedo + klee. content. heavy angst, all family/platonic love, character death, mentions of blood, injury, light cursing. references to lyney’s vision story + lyney and lynette's story, hints at kaeya + lyney with ptsd & lyney with separation anxiety. aether + lumine is purely headcanon and is not representative of the future of genshin.

notes. my first time writing anything ever with klee and this is how it’s going… i’m so sorry klee omfg. this actually used to have ayato+ayaka and jean+barbara in it !! but i cut them out so i could post it since it’s been in my drafts for a LONG time and they weren’t finished yet. i’ll do a part two with them. taglist — open. @ryuryuryuyurboat @soleillunne @rainswept

✉️ mail received! sender: lyney & lynette

lyney lacks to admit the pure fear that sends shocks and shivers down his body when lynette is not within immediate sight of him. she likes to chime that he says some weird things; perhaps he does on late nights when lynette is accompanying freminet without him - father had assigned him to a different mission and he'd finished much earlier than her. thoughts rush through his mind quicker than he can process them, his aching legs pacing the floor of his bedroom.

are they okay? did something go wrong? lyney's mind is restless at all times, he needs to know lynette is safe. in a few moments of silence, he'll see a younger lynette in the dark, her ears flattened to her head and tail tucked in antagonising fear - the night that father had saved her life, mere moments from the potential loss of her life. lyney's throat will always tighten, breathing rapidly until his lungs burn.

he knows exactly how he got his vision, in the twilight of a cold night, surrounded by danger. he knows that he had begged father so recklessly for a delusion simply to fill the gap that the lack of a vision had given him but he didn't care, he wanted to accompany his sister. he couldn't let her out of his sight again.

one attachment added!

there's a painful silence that's filling the orphanage. on most days, it would be bustling - after all, father had acquired many orphans in light of their dire situations being unable to refuse such kind help as she offers. lyney catches himself frowning, feet pacing the worn floorboards of his bedroom floor. if lynette was here, she'd have already quipped about how the floor will 'disappear beneath him if he keeps pacing.'

the reminder of his twin sister should make him smile. it should draw a crack of a smile to his face and curl the corners of his lips upwards but it doesn't. she still hasn't returned from her mission and while lyney refuses to admit that he's been counting the hours since he was separated from lynette, he most definitely has.

an oil lamp burns by his bedside, painting the room in an orange hue as it glows and yet casting shadows across the walls. lyney can't help but catch sight of the shadows that night, painted on the walls in the glow of roaring flames that crackled from where they burned. he's painfully reminded of the fragile young girl lynette was, vulnerable and almost caught in a life threatening situation. he contemplates what would have happened to her if father hadn't interrupted in time but he's quick to shake his head. he's seen many what if scenarios in his nightmares, waking him as his body trembles and his lungs burn for oxygen.

the pained reminders stain his mind, torturing him when there's a burst of noise from the orphanage's entry hall; multiple voices screaming his name repeatedly, he can hear them calling for him and begging to know where he is. lyney whips his head towards his bedroom door, storming forth as he hurriedly opens it. he catches eyes with one of the orphans who'd been calling his name so painfully. they're wide, fearful and their face is void of colour.

"lyney! it's lynette-" need they say more? the boy rushes forward, skipping steps as he runs down the spiral staircases dressed in lavish red carpets that father had installed for a sense of aesthetic - she had claimed she couldn't work nor focus in a place so bland. - there's a sense of dread that fuels every inch of lyney's body, tearing him apart when he bursts into the entry hall.

beneath a dazzling chandelier with a warm amber glow, arlecchino herself has nestled beside the form of someone on the checker tiled floor, surrounded by orphans that she's trying desperately to shoo away, demanding for space in all of her authority. she's seem awry, not her typical self and lyney's lilac eyes fall to the familiar shoes of his twin sister, poking from the crowd.

his heart sinks, colour leaving his face as he hesitantly approaches; she's just injured, he convinces himself when he sees the stain of red on her usually pristine white shirt, something she was devoted to keeping that way for their shows. the orphans part at the sight of him, the dark eyes of arlecchino raising to him before she trails back down to lynette.

the girl is propped onto her lap, head rested against arlecchino's thighs. lynette has always been a pale girl, lyney knows this well enough whenever he glimpses his own shade of skin colour but she's even paler than usual, her eyelashes fluttered shut. the silence between himself and father is almost deafening.

"she's alright, isn't she?" he barely manages to croak out, seeing how arlecchino has pressed a lanky hand to where lynette's blood has seeped from. she almost grimaces, it's the most emotion lyney has seen from her for a while.

"she's already gone, lyney," was that a crack in her voice? lyney doesn't have the time to ponder it when his vision goes dark, he's dizzy and there's static in the corners of his eyes when he struggles to get air into his lungs, "freminet is in the infirmary."

the infirmary, yes - that means he's getting medical help but the same can't be said for his twin, who he had lacked to part with since they were born. the twin he would tell everything to, who he trusted with every fibre of his being as much as she did with him too.

there's a stinging in his eyes when tears prick at them, threatening to spill the longer he stares at lynette's body. he falls to his knees, not caring for the pain it causes when the floor is less than comfortable, pressing his face into lynette's clothing. she smells the same as she always does, the faint smell of the sugary desserts he'd reprimand her for, lumidouce bells and the ocean.

he lets out a cry into the fabric of her clothing, his hands gripping at it until his knuckles turn white. his cheek presses to her neck, she's cold to the touch already and arlecchino can't help but turn her head away at the sight of her most useful child reduced to a sobbing, shaking mess on the entry hall floor, gripping his dead sister for dear life.

✉️ mail received! sender: kaeya & diluc

despite going down two very different paths of life and perhaps saying things they shouldn’t have, they cannot deny the invisible ties of brotherly love. no matter how much diluc may throw sharp words at the cryo vision, they see their younger selves sometimes like reflections of the past in a shattered mirror’s shards.

on dreary nights where the rain storms against glass windows, when one brother remains consumed by a sweet yet bitter liquid on his tongue and the other brandishes a claymore in the night, they recognise their indifferences. they recognise the unshakeable bond that their pasts have tested to its limit. those around them too acknowledge that the past cannot truly deter emotions.

kaeya frequents the dawn winery much at the expense of his brother, who grumbles and snatches bottles of (almost stolen) wine from his tanned hands. it could be a misfortune he carries to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and this scene… feels so familiar to him.

one attachment added!

a crack of lightning decorates the dark sky looming over mondstadt. it’s been like this for a few hours now, trapping the two brothers in an awkward silence as they linger around the manor. diluc has made the effort to avoid his brother and yet tresses of blue hair keep getting in his peripheral vision.

“there’s been fatui sightings not far north from the winery,” kaeya’s icy gaze flickers towards the office door that isn’t completely shut, “perhaps we should tell master kaeya—”

“he doesn’t need to know, i’ll deal with it personally.” the deep voice of diluc booms, full of authority and the slightest attitude at the mention of his brother that makes kaeya click his tongue, pocketing the small, circular mora he’d been tossing with his thumb as diluc emerges from the office, the winery worker not far behind.

the brothers exchange a look, perhaps this scenario is all too familiar for them both to let it play out. diluc bites his tongue when he prepares for those words he knows kaeya will say.

“he doesn’t need to know?” kaeya mocks lowkey, a coy smile on his face as he dusts his hands together and approaches the redhead, “i’ll be accompanying you.”

and somehow the fiery red male cannot argue back, his eyes narrowing at his brother in distaste when he accepts his fate - it is raining after all, maybe kaeya’s vision could come in more useful than the cavalry captain typically tends to be, his breath laced with wine.

the brothers set off immediately, heads hanging low as they follow the muddy paths out of the winery; ones they’d followed many times before. something about this reminds them of how accustomed to each other’s presence they are. the reports from various workers at the winery are indeed correct and whilst diluc storms into the fight, vision ablaze with an anger that cannot be sated at the cost of a few mere fatui deaths, kaeya cannot help but ponder if there’s too many of them to take on by themselves.

rain impairs his vision, trickling down his face and soaking his hair to his skin. brandishing a blade in his hand, the young man can't help but think he's seen this before. another crack of lightning brightens the sky as a weapon is plunged into diluc's abdomen, his face pales as ruby eyes meet kaeya's panicked gaze.

the realisation hits when suddenly kaeya sees crepus' face over his brother's. he sees that evening when he arrived a little too late, the air struggling to get to his lungs no matter how he gasps for breath, clouds of breath quick to disperse in front of cold lips. kaeya is quick to finish the remaining enemies off before he's forced to look at diluc's slumped body in the mud.

"diluc?" he whispers, kneeling beside the bleeding man. diluc's gloved hands are pressed to his wound, a grimace on his face, "brother?"

"i heard you the first time," he grumbles, not wanting to admit the warmth that consumes his adrenaline filled heart at the sentiment behind hearing kaeya say brother once again, "..say it again."

kaeya takes a moment, his shaking hands dropping his faithful sword as he presses them over diluc's. he no longer feels the warmth emitting from his brother's pyro vision, his eyes stinging painfully - he blames the rain, of course, it's getting in his eyes.

"brother," it falls from his mouth hurriedly, followed by a quiet curse under his breath, "now isn't the time for this! w-we'll get you to adelinde..."

for the first time in years, a glimpse of a grin crosses the redhead's stoic face. in between shallow breaths and blurry sight, he gazes over the familiarity of his brother's face; blood or not. a final breath escapes his chapped lips in the cold of the night, his last thought going over how he wishes he had fixed things with kaeya sooner.

the cryo vision yells out into the night, quick to pull diluc against his chest as the rain continues to ruthlessly batter down on them. it happened again, he curses, squeezing his eyes shut as the tears blend with the raindrops on his cheeks. it won't happen again.

✉️ mail received! sender: aether & lumine

bound by blood, they have always been as thick as thieves together. no ends of time could stop them, no ends of trials and challenges that cross their paths on the journey to find each other. their determination is honourable across teyvat, seeking each other out as if there is no other person in the universe.

without each other they do not know what to do. after all, what do you do when the person you've travelled long and far with disappears without a trace and you're left with nothing but your wit to find them again?

one attachment added!

"brother!" her voice calls out, excitement coursing through her veins as she hurriedly drops the dull blade she'd sported her whole journey these past few years, traversing nations and fighting gods and others alike in search for her brother. aether does not budge, slumped against a rock overlooking the devastation left of khaerni'ah.

lumine's eyes trail to it, the smoke that rises in shades of grey and black, revealing that the flames still burnt at buildings and civilisation. the ashes still smoulder, hot to the touch as the embers glow and flicker through the air. this is not the khaenri'ah she remembers nor is it most likely the khaenri'ah that dainsleif remembers too - dainsleif.. where is he?

the blonde whips her head around in confusion at the sudden disappearance of the male who'd assisted her journey against the abyss order, solemnly appearing out of nowhere with new information to support her journey. a frown decorates her face before she turns her attention back to aether, her smile replacing her former expression.

"aether?" lumine calls out when her brother is unresponsive - was he mad at her for taking so long? why wasn't he sharing the same excitement as her? she stumbles over, breaking into a sprint towards the boulder her twin brother sat beside her. finally, after all this time, she could hold her brother again. her arms envelope the shoulders of her brother, breathing in that familiar scent mixed with the cursed remnants of smoke and ash that fill the air.

but aether doesn't respond to the hug nor the death tight grip lumine is succumbing him to in all of her excitement. slowly, she raises her head. aether's golden eyes are glazed over, his pupils gone and replaced with white. lumine's smile begins to fade, pulling away from the hug when she realises her brother's warm skin that she craved to touch is instead cold and pale.

the blood that has trickled from the corner of his mouth and seeps from his neck has darkened as it oxidises, speckled with the black ash from the flames that have torched khaenri'ah. the breath hitches in lumine's throat and it's suddenly harder to breathe than it was a few moments ago.

a wail escapes her, screaming into the eerie silence left in the aftermath of death and destruction. there's no one to comfort her, to answer her cries. was it all for nothing? had she journeyed this whole time, endlessly fulfilling everyone else's requests just for a snippet of information attaining to her brother, just to be too late?

✉️ mail received! sender: albedo & klee

klee is too young to remember where albedo comes from or even possibly his master, at least this is what he tells himself. klee merely does not care for the trivial matters revolving around where people come from or where they go - despite missing her mother alice dearly sometimes. no, instead the small girl cares for every face surrounding her in light of her mother’s absence; this is particularly albedo.

the people of mondstadt recognise that potentially the small girl is attached to him, referring to him as her big brother as if rhinedottir had made him specifically for her. and on cold nights atop dragonspine’s summit, dressed from head to toe for warmth, the chalk prince considers it.

with a bubbly personality and bright smile that sends everyone into gasps of awe, klee tends to get what she wants and albedo, as her designated big brother, is also victim to these schemes.

one attachment added!

“klee, don’t stray too far,” albedo chimes, concerned for her safety when sky blue eyes follow the brightly coloured girl’s attire through the bleak backdrop of snow, “it’s not safe.”

stars twinkle endlessly above the pair, shining like gold now that the snowstorm had cleared up and dark grey clouds had rolled away to reveal the night sky. klee stares in awe, the stars seem much clearer out here.

“big brother! look at that star!” klee points a gloved finger up at a particular star and whilst albedo gazes upon it, he’s reminded of the very diamond engraved to his throat. his breath hitches and he pulls his gaze away from the stars, approaching the small girl as to stop her leaving his side for too long.

he’d fell so hopelessly for that innocent grin and sparkling eyes when she begged him to let her stay the night with him on dragonspine - he knows he shouldn’t fear for her life entirely, there was a reason acting grand master jean kept klee tucked away in solitary confinement so much but he still couldn’t help the tense of his muscles when he watches her tread through thick layers of snow.

the silence on dragonspine after snowfall was usually albedo’s favourite thing about being stationed up here alone with his experiments but he found himself holding his breath, gloved hands ready to reach for the small girl every time she steps an inch too far. something seemed off but he denoted it down to him being anxious about klee’s presence on dragonspine.

amidst silence there’s a whistle, almost resembling that of an arrow soaring through air. in confusion, the blond whips his head around - nobody dares to step foot on dragonspine so recklessly, not without confiding in himself and the adventurer’s guild first, so where was that whistling coming from? that’s when klee lets out a piercing squeal into the night.

albedo is quick to turn his head back in klee’s direction, had he been so careless to take his attention from her for mere seconds only for her to end up injured? yet as his lips part to call her name, he catches sight of the young girl pierced in the neck but none other than an arrow.

the chilling air of dragonspine hitches in his throat, burning his lungs when he can’t seem to get oxygen into his body, his eyes burning holes into the sight before him when he falls to his knees beside her. she’s terrified, rasping for breath so heavily that the small clouds of warm breath dispersing at her lips are consistently appearing with sharp intakes.

the usual sparkle of ruby red eyes has been demoted to a glitter of wet liquid spilling from the corners of her eyes, her eyes set on the face of her faithful big brother she adored so heavily. she wants to speak, to call his name despite him being right in front of her but it hurts so much, why isn’t he doing something about it?

albedo only has himself to blame, he thinks when he notices the hillichurls disappearing from the cliffside when they think the threat has dissipated - the exact reason his attire was the colour scheme it was, to blend him in so effortlessly. a scowl crosses his face, tears threatening to spill but he remains strong; he has to for klee’s sake.

“i-i’m sorry,” he croaks out, filled to the brim with a guilt he wishes klee could understand when she lets out a strangled whimper, “i’m so sorry klee.”

he pleads that celestia is kind enough to give him the time to take her to the base of dragonspine, across the river to mondstadt so he can get her help. her blood stains the whites and greys of his clothes, blonde hair spilled over his shoulder as he carries her like she’s shattered porcelain.

by the time he makes it to the adventurer’s guild’s camp, out of the sheer cold that turns his limbs numb in an oddly comforting manner now, klee’s breath has ceased to exist despite all the panicked screams around her lifeless body.

he refuses to leave her body’s side, buried neck deep in a suffocating guilt that none of these people will understand. he blames himself for the death of his own little sister, one of the only people he had after his master left.

#( sealed letters )#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#https-furina #genshin #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #lyney angst #lynette angst #kaeya angst #diluc angst #aether angst #lumine angst #albedo angst #klee angst #genshin x reader

318 notes · View notes

silvrash-797 · 4 months ago

Text

Febuwhump 2025 - A Siren's Song

Chapter 2: "I did good, right?"

Read on ao3

Legend shut his mouth, teeth clicking together with an audible snap.

Time and Twilight took one more step then froze in place, eyes still glassy and distant, but blessedly clear of the water, which lapped at their chins.

Legend silently gnawed on a claw, panic rising in his chest. He had to get them back to shore. He refused to be the reason more people he loved died.

But if he took one back, the curse could drag the other under while he wasn't looking!

He needed to get them both back, together.

But how?

Wait.

The Siren's Song drew men to the water to drown.

The Siren's Song drew men to the water to drown!

Desperately, silently, Legend swam toward Twilight, pawing at the neck of his tunic until a claw caught at the leather thong that held the Rancher's dark crystal. Careful not to touch the black and orange stone - who knew what turning into a bunny now would do to their situation - he turned the stone onto Twilight and touched the Rancher's cheek.

Immediately, shadows surrounded Twilight's form, clearing after a moment to leave a wolf paddling in his place.

Wolfie blinked. Shook his head. His face contorted in a surprisingly Hylian look of confusion as he took in the water, his position in it, and Legend floating anxiously nearby.

Wolfie huffed a bark and tilted his head, the question clear. What happened?

Crap. Sign was nearly impossible with claws and webbed fingers, but Legend had to try. "Curse," he managed, letting his fingers speak for him. "Voice bad, need help!"

Wolfie's eyes widened as he looked around again. He gave a determined bark before tilting his head again. What do you need me to do?

"You. Air under water. Yes?" Legend's fingers twisted, mangling the signs. He prayed Twilight would understand.

Wolfie nodded, and Legend almost fainted from relief.

"Good!" he signed. "Put on, help Time. Z-O-R-A face."

Wolfie's eyes widened in understanding; moments later the shadowy cloud cleared, leaving Twilight floating in the wolf's place, his time as Wolfie having broken the spell.

Legend was not jealous at how easy his transformation had been.

"That's a pretty tail you've got there, Vet," Twilight grinned as he fished in his pack for his Zora gear.

"Shut up," Legend signed, pouting.

Twilight laughed as he donned the blue hat and golden helm of his Zora armor, pulling the black veil up and over his mouth and nose.

"Right," he said, ducking under water to make sure it worked. "Now, why can't we just drag Time back like this? You 'n me together?"

Legend sighed bubbles into the water and made a gesture he hoped conveyed be my guest.

They each grabbed one of Time's arms and began to drag him backwards. They hadn't gone more than two strokes when Time's feet disappeared from underneath him; the weight of his armor dragged him down, causing him to sink beneath the waves.

Twilight yelped and dove to grab his mentor. Legend towed them back to the place Time had stopped, until the one-eyed hero stood placidly on his own again.

Twilight turned wide eyes onto Legend.

Legend shrugged. "Song powerful," he signed as best he could. "Drown one way or another."

"So we have to break the song somehow," Twilight murmured.

Legend nodded and again signed, "Z-O-R-A face."

"Of course! You broke the song's power over me by usin' my crystal." Twilight dove underwater and grabbed Time's mask pouch, loosening it and pulling it up with him. He began to dig inside. "Only makes sense that Time's Zora mask would do the same thing." He exclaimed in triumph as he pulled out the mask.

"I've never seen him use one of these before," Twilight said, turning the mask over in his hands. "I don't know what to expect."

Legend shrugged minutely and opened his mouth, only to sink his needle-sharp teeth into the side of his hand. He'd been about to speak, and that would have signed Time's death sentence. Already, he could see the clouds in Time's eye drawing closer together - the cursed song would not be appeased for much longer. "Hurry," he signed anxiously.

Twilight nodded and carefully placed the mask over Time's face.

The mask seemed to clamp down, like it was digging into his skin; Time curled forward as every muscle contracted then threw back his head and screamed as the transformation coursed across his body. Legend and Twilight clung to his arms to keep him floating as skin and armor turned to scaly flesh.

Finally, Time hung from their grasp, panting slightly as the transformation finished. He opened bleary eyes and gazed around, much as Twilight had. "What happened?" he murmured.

He'd done it. They were safe. Legend's voice burst from his throat before he could stop it. "I cursed you both, that's what happened!" Tears welled in his eyes. "I almost killed you both..."

Time flinched as the song ghosted across his mind, finding nothing to latch onto; Twilight’s eyes went glassy, and he sunk beneath the waves.

"Crap!" Legend left Time swimming under his own power and dove for Twilight, hauling him back to the surface. He turned to Time, all thoughts of the beauty of this era fled from his mind, haunted and exhausted by the last hour's ordeal. "We need to get him to shore, and get me out of this damned water."

Time nodded and took Twilight from Legend's grasp. With a flick of webbed feet and finned tail, they made their way back to the Spirit's spring. Twice more across the short distance, Twilight's weight dropped beneath the waves, but his Zora helm protected him.

Legend hauled himself up the stairs, arms trembling. As soon as he left the water's embrace, the mermaid's curse began to reverse.

He cringed and sobbed as his tail shredded down the middle, growing Hylian bones and sinew once more. His skin burned as scales retracted, and the muted ache in his hands and mouth roared back to life as teeth and claws dulled. Distantly, he felt Time's hands flutter around him, trying to help, to comfort, to soothe, but he curled away from the contact, rolling tightly into himself to contain the raging inferno.

Legend coughed and hacked water from his lungs as his gills sewed themselves shut. He wanted to pass out this time, but as clean, cool air entered his lungs, it extinguished the flames of his transformation, leaving him shivering on the sun-warmed stone.

"I did good, right?" he whimpered, to no one in particular.

He startled as a warm blanket was draped across his body. "Yes, Vet," Time's deep voice soothed, "you did good. You saved us both."

"You just rest, Lege," Twilight's voice joined in, and oh, it was wonderful to hear them both, safe and sound and alive. "We'll find the others once you're feelin' up to it, 'kay?"

"Okay," Legend hummed, already drifting into sleep's embrace.

They were safe.

#SilvrAsh writes #febuwhump 2025 #no.20 #i have been dying to share this all month!#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu twilight #lu time #mer!legend #zora!time

31 notes · View notes

lightning-wyvern · 1 year ago

Note

i am a trans man and i have a carnal need for urahara do something about that please i dont give a fuck what you write, it could be monster sex i dont even care bro

i really wanna monster sex bcs same boo same (even down to the trans man part im a trans man and he drives me just absolutely positively rabid)

~ kitty cat

alpha(?)!kisuke urahara x werecat!male reader / fluff, smut in pt.2 content werecat!reader, werecats can shift into CAT cats [ wc ] 1422 (ps: read this!) please reblog fanfictions when you read one you like! likes do not help writers' algorithms!

kisuke urahara was a simple man... in legal terms.

he had never been to jail, had never been to prison, hell- he'd never even gotten a parking ticket, let alone a speeding ticket.

but when he met you, that all changed.

when yoruichi, urahara's dearest childhood friend (and also werecat), brought home the scruffy black stray, kisuke was immediately infatuated. he had another werecat, ichigo, who he was very close to, and ichigo immediately took a liking to you, which wasn't common (orange cats are very odd creatures.).

there was one part of the ordeal that kisuke was very fond of: yoruichi quickly began to think of you as a brother. she even shared her milk with you whenever kisuke gave it to her... that was the oddest part about the whole situation: she refused to share her milk with even ichigo.

now, werecats used to be a predominantly wild species. when humans discovered the cat-human hybrids, certain people (who yoruichi thought shouldn't be called humans) quickly realized they could manipulate the species' genes for a very specific use: sex.

the modifications eliminated many issues: romantic barriers between human partners, sexual lines that could be crossed between partners, and most notably (because most werecats seemed to be male), the ancient-standing issue of tension between hetero and homosexual individuals.

soon after their discovery, a system spawned that was very similar to what social media called the cat distribution system. a similar "system" cropped up in which encounters with werecats commonly ended in either a fuck or in most cases, someone bringing home a cute new friend.

additionally, most werecats tended to like being called things like "kitten," "good kitty," "pretty kitty," and similar affectionate little pet names. most werecats also either couldn't speak very well, or they simply chose not to- so there was usually very little communication involved with them.

kisuke learned very quickly, however, that this was not the case with all werecats- yoruichi and ichigo were rare cases, yes, but looking back on early memories with you, kisuke quickly formed a theory that sentient werecats gravitated towards handsome, perverted candy shop owners.

was it the candy? ichigo liked candy.

was it the milk? yoruichi liked milk.

or... was it the handsome, perverted candy shop owners themselves?

kisuke urahara was very fond of that idea... he had always liked cats, and cats had always seemed to like him.

~+~

kisuke groaned and rolled over onto his back on his futon, slowly opening his tired, storm-grey eyes. he yawned loudly, stretching his arms up int the air and making grabby hands for the ceiling. he heard a very slight sound of fur shifting against fabric, and his eyes immediately looked to the right, towards the sound.

"oh, hello yoruichi!" said kisuke, grinning. he sat up and threaded a hand into his messy blonde hair and ruffled it, yawning again.

"you're ridiculous." said a falsely deep voice next to the futon. kisuke grinned like a teenage dumbass, reaching over and ruffling the fur on the sleek, black british short-haired cat's head. she growled warningly, but of course kisuke didn't listen, and if you asked about this moment later on, yoruichi would say she probably should have scratched his eyes out.

yoruichi hissed, growling from deep in the back of her throat as she reached up and pawed aggressively at his hand. she backed up, her puffed up tail swishing violently back and forth and slamming sporadically against the wooden floor. she shook herself in a quarrelsome manner and hissed again, turning and burrowing under the waist opening of a black kimono, poking her head out of the top.

"stuff it, old man." she spat, shifting into her werecat form.

"no you stuff it, kitty." he playfully spat back, fake-flinching and chuckling when she hissed again and projectile-chucked a pillow at him violently.

"why've you woken me up, hm?" kisuke asks as he stands up and reaches for his striped green and white hat. he stretched again, slipping into a matching green and white-striped shawl-thing (hada doesn't know what theyre called heh), looking over at yoruichi expectantly, his eyebrows raised and his signature stupid grin starting to sneak onto his face.

yoruichi groaned, flopping backward onto the futon dramatically.

"ugh fine, i'll tell you," she says, "i found a stray werecat and i may or may not have brought him home."

kisuke grins, getting visibly excited at the idea of meeting another were.

"oh?" he asks, "where is he? i don't see him~"

"he's hiding somewhere in here but he's here."

"you should go get him! tell him i promise i won't bite~"

yoruichi rolls her eyes, getting up and stretching like a cat and starting lazily toward the door.

"i dunno if he's sentient but ok."

she did, however, go and fetch the new fluffball- you. she had to pick you and carry you, you were that shy. when she brought you into the room with kisuke, you fluffed up and hissed, scrambling onto yoruichi's shoulders and growling defensively.

"you didn't tell him, did you~" kisuke said in fake drama, rolling his eyes. but he didn't bother to smother the grin that accompanied the eye roll. he approached slowly, slipping out of his loud-ass japapese clogs in the process so as to attempt to make himself sound less like a threat. he relaxed the muscles in his right arm and hand, reaching his hand up to let the cat have a sniff.

(reader pov)

you hissed quietly, but still carefully extended your neck nonetheless. you risked a cautious sniff, recoiling defensively. you looked up and stared at the blonde man with calculating, clearly intelligent eyes for more than one moment, eventually shifting all four tiny little paws onto one shoulder of the cocoa-colored woman who had rescued you, carefully leaning out and touching your nose to the man's fingers, finally getting an good scent.

no threat... not now, at least.

you looked up at him again and made a short, quiet trilling sound. it was something similar to the noise house cats make when an idiot human wakes them up from a sun nap, and it made the man smile. you stared at him for a few seconds, thinking. then you poised for a pounce, jumping the one or two-foot distance between the man and the woman. you landed on the man's shoulder and butted your head against his temple, then sneezed and sniffed at his hat.

the man smiled again, reaching up and making a gentle, cautious attempt to scratch behind your ear. you butted your head into his fingertips and his smile turned into a joyous grin, and he started to scratch at that one spot, eliciting a completely unwarranted purr from the back of your throat. the man chuckled, gently cupping your small, feline head in his hand and rubbing your face, neck and ear in soothing motions.

your heart slowed down a bit and the purr you were producing got deeper, indicating to the man that you were becoming more comfortable with him. you reached around with your face and licked the palm of his hand, then hopped down onto the floor and burrowed under a blanket on a futon you had seen earlier, then quickly shifted into your werecat form, wrapping the blanket around yourself. you turned and looked curiously at him, tilting your head to the side, having decided to chance at asking him a question.

"what's your name?" you asked cautiously, your voice so quiet it was nearly a whisper.

(urahara pov)

kisuke smiled, walking over and sitting down next on the futon next to you. "i'm urahara kisuke." he introduced himself, making sure to keep his voice calm and quiet so as to refrain from startling you.

you looked at him and he looked back at you, a soft, gentle smile on his face as he watched you closely, waiting for you to respond. after a moment of thought, you carefully scoot closer to him, shifting onto your calves before giving a cautious, playful bat at his hand. he smiled- and all of a sudden the action seemed to be infectious, and you fell ill with it. a small smile inched its way into existence, slithering in small bits onto your face and making his heart soar for some reason.

interesting... he thought, he likes to play. ichigo and yoruichi just seem to want to be left alone, but this one is coming out of its shell... the thought made him smile again, and your smile widened into a grin.

fell victim to writers block but had to post and so theres gna b a pt.2~

#~ | posting #《 rhy writes ♡#《 asksksk 🤪#bleach #kisuke urahara #bleach men x male reader #bleach men x trans male reader #kisuke urahara x male reader #kisuke urahara x trans male reader #bleach smut #bleach men x male reader smut #urahara x male reader smut

97 notes · View notes