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rafesangelita · 6 months ago

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♡ WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW - PROLOGUE :: nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the handsome kook that came crashing into your life.. quite literally. it’s hard to think that at one point you and rafe didn’t know one another, especially since you two have spent every passing day together for the last four months.

warnings: drug use, driving under the influence, reckless driving, rafe arguing with ward, descriptions of a mild injury, mentions of addiction and sobriety, blood, reader tends to rafe’s wounds, fluff, opposite of slowburn, forced proximity (?), time skip (from four months ago to the current day), slight angst

a/n: ahhhhh!! it’s finally here, and i couldn’t be more excited to share this with all of you!! all feedback is deeply appreciated <3 feel free to ask to be added to the taglist if you’d like!

links: series masterlist | next chapter

wc: 2.8k

rafe set a new record for himself tonight, and he wasn’t proud of it. not only did he lose count of the lines he snorted off of topper’s coffee table, he also had ward blowing up his phone. “aye, man, i don’t think you should be driving.” topper slurred, downing the alcohol in his glass. cleaning the residue from his nose, rafe shook him off, stumbling through the crowd of people in the living room before hopping in his truck and peeling out of the packed street.

jaw ticking, rafe cursed to himself when his phone started ringing, ward’s contact lighting up the screen. “i’m going home already, alright? yes— yes, dad! i know we have a meeting with some investors in the morning.. what? no i’m not fuckin’ high!” he rambled on, feigning offense when his father called his bluff. “just stop— i know, okay? i’ll be there in a minute—” before rafe could finish his sentence, he took a sharp turn, swerving onto the curb before hitting a light pole.

you were locking up the icecream parlor when you heard the high pitched squeal of tires against the pavement, a loud crash making you jump from your spot in front of the door. spinning on your heels, your eyes widened when you saw a black truck just feet away from the main street, smoke billowing from under the hood. unsure of what to do, you looked around to see if anyone was nearby, but of course, the strip was always empty at this time of the night.

“son of a bitch!” you heard someone groan before they tumbled out of the front seat, falling face down against the concrete. you gasped, dropping your purse before running across the street. “are you okay?!” you helped the stranger sit up, wincing when you saw blood dripping from his nose. he stared at you wide eyed, his pupils blown as you kneeled in front of him. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” you reassured him, slipping off your cardigan before holding it against his nose. you noticed the open gash on his brow, your heart sinking when you saw his eyes soften. “we really need to get you to the emergency, do you have a phone?” rafe shook his head, leaning back against the tire of his truck. “no. well, yes, i have a phone.. somewhere.. but i can’t go to the emergency, not like this.” just then, rafe felt a sharp pain shoot up to his temple from his neck.

“yes, like this! you’re all scraped up.” you said incredulously. “no, i mean i’m not sober.” as if he was waiting for you to judge him, rafe watched as your expression didn’t falter. “i promise you, going to the emergency and getting help from a professional is a lot more better than not going at all. your truck can always be replaced; you can’t.” your words lit a fire in his chest, the sincerity in your tone making him crack a pained smile.

“i’ll go to jail for this, and i just can’t do that right now. i have to be somewhere in the morning, my dad will kill me if he finds out..” remembering that he was on the phone with ward before he crashed, he scrambled up to find the device, only to groan and plop back down on the street. still holding the pink cardigan to his head, you guided his hand to hold it for you. “what are you looking for? i can try to find it.” rafe let out a shaky breath, mumbling “my phone.” before you got up and spotted it near the tire.

turning it over, you held it up for him to see. it was completely shattered. “i don’t think it’s going to work..” you handed it to him, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. “what the fuck?” he breathed out, holding his head in his hands. you’ve never seen someone look so defeated before, your feet moving on their own before you could think. “do you think you can walk? my place is only five minutes away.” rafe looked up like he couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your mouth.

“your place?” he repeated, half shocked and half confused as to why you’d offer him help. “yes,” you nodded, taking his hand in yours, “i don’t have a phone there, but i can at least get you cleaned up..” rafe tried to weigh out his options, only to realize he didn’t have any. “are you sure?” he was truly at your mercy. “yes. here— just keep holding this to your head, let me go get my purse and we can be on our way.” you left him with your cardigan, running across the street and grabbing your bag before getting him up.

“i’m a lot stronger than i thought.” you joked, attempting to lighten the mood as you wrapped one of rafe’s arms around your shoulders. “fuck, what about my truck?” rafe leaned his weight on you, nearly making you topple over before you took a step. “someone will find it and call a tow, you could call the towing company tomorrow,” you explained to him, “do you have anything valuable in there?” rafe laughed, shaking his head. “just my piece of shit phone that has no value now.” he grunted, walking with a slight limp.

“hey, uhm, what’s your name?” rafe looked down at you, both of you sharing a glance before he looked away. despite him not being in the right state of mind, there was no doubting how insanely pretty you were. “y/n.. and yours?” why on earth were you getting butterflies right now? “rafe.” was all he replied before he started asking you an abundant amount of questions. rafe learned a lot about you in the short five minute walk to your camper. what you did for a living, where you currently worked for some extra money, what your hobbies consisted of.. along with being a pogue.

“so.. you live all alone in this pink camper in the middle of the woods? aren’t you scared some psycho will come across it and want to know who’s inside?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “a psycho?” you flashed him a playful smile, “like you?” rafe watched as you unlocked the small screen door, a chuckle threatening to slip from his throat. “i would laugh if it didn’t feel like i had a thousand needles stabbing me in my brain right now.” he swallowed thickly, accepting the hand you offered him to step in.

he was immediately hit with the smell of freshly baked cake and vanilla frosting. he loved it. “i know it’s really small in here, but you could just take a seat right there on that little couch and i’ll go get my first aid kit.” rafe did as you said, eyes darting around your space. pink florals, white lace trim, usually he’d be irked by this kind of decor, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, he didn’t mind it this time. rafe leaned back on the soft sofa, settling into the cushions while you scrambled for the little first aid kit somewhere in your bathroom.

spotting the small box on your little shelf, you grabbed it before making your way back to where rafe was sitting. he opened his eyes momentarily, finding you even more pretty now that darkness didn’t surround you two. he kept his gaze on you, watching as you took your bottom lip between your teeth. “sorry about this..” rafe took the pink cardigan away from his head, the fabric now stained with blood. “oh, don’t worry about it,” you smiled, “you needed it more than i did.”

pressing a damp cloth to his nose, rafe groaned when you applied the slightest bit of pressure. “i’m sorry!” you pouted, taking a seat next to him. rafe reassured you he was alright, a groan leaving his lips as he clutched his stomach. eyebrows knitting in confusion, you lifted his shirt, your eyes widening at the sight. he was scraped and bruised, a small wound adorning his lower abdomen. “here, lets get this off.” you pulled rafe’s t-shirt over his head, both of your cheeks heating at the compromising position.

“we could stop if this is too weird for you—” you shook your head, taking an ice pack out of your freezer. “no, it’s okay.” you pressed the cold bag to his skin, still wiping away the dried blood on his face. “i’m not sure how far you live, but i don’t think it’s a good idea for you to walk anywhere.” your voice was barely above a whisper, the sound of it soothing rafe more than any kind of medicine he could take right now. “don’t worry about me, i’ll be fine.” rafe watched your fingers dance across his stomach, your nails sparkling underneath the dim lighting of your camper.

you thought for a moment. “i guess what i’m trying to say is; i think you’re better off staying the night here..” you trailed off, meeting his gaze, “you’ll be able to get to a phone in the morning and call whoever you need to. you should just get some rest right now.” rafe was stunned. you wanted him to stay? “i don’t know..” he sounded uneasy, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t help but feel like he was imposing. “it’s okay, i swear! you could take my bed since there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep on this little thing.”

“no, no way, i’m fine with sleeping on the floor.” you smiled at him, eyes flickering down to his lips. “no, really, it’s okay, rafe.” he liked the way his name sounded rolling off of your tongue, “i’ve fallen asleep plenty of times over here, i’ll be fine on the couch.” you got up, wringing out the towel you were using to clean him up. “i just have one rule, though,” rafe held the ice pack to his stomach, humming as you grabbed some ointment and a couple of bandages.

“you can only lay in my bed if you’re clean.. and you need a shower.” the corner of rafe’s lips quirked. “if you want to see me naked all you have to do is ask.” you blinked, pushing his chest softly. “that’s not what i meant.” you giggled. “i’ll get you a change of clothes, just get in there for right now.” rafe was already too far in to look back. getting up with your assistance, you guided rafe to the bathroom before shutting the door behind him. “there’s clean towels and wash rags on the shelf!” you called from the kitchen, yawning as all of tonight’s events started to catch up with you.

rafe didn’t know what to make of all of this. one minute he was high out of his mind, crashing into a light pole with his dad on the phone, and the next he was inside some gorgeous girl’s camper getting tended to before using a strawberry scented body wash in her shower. what the fuck was his luck? taking his time in the shower, rafe thought about how he’d explain everything to ward tomorrow, from the towed truck to the cuts and bruises.

he wondered if ward would even care.

by the time rafe was done, he was stepping out of the bathroom smelling like a slice of strawberry cake with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. he glanced over at the couch, your back facing him as you slept soundlessly. moving aside the pink curtain that concealed the doorway to your room, rafe slipped into the sweatpants you left out for him, settling underneath your silky soft sheets shortly after.

how was it that you just happened to be the only person around when he crashed? how did he crash right in front of where you worked? and why were you being so nice to him? rafe had so many questions and couldn’t think of any logical answers. he didn’t believe in fate, but looking back on it, that seems to be the only explanation. the next day he woke up to his clothes freshly washed and wearable again, your music playing softly in the kitchen. “good morning!” you chirped, your hair and makeup already done for the day.

“hey..” rafe was still shirtless, his eyes following your every move. “what time is it?” he took a seat at the little booth by the wall, his head no longer pounding the way it did last night. “it’s about to be ten. i was debating if whether or not i should’ve woken you up earlier, but you really needed to sleep.” you leaned back against the counter, admiring the handsome man in your camper. “your wallet should also be with your clothes there on that chair,” you started, “..so i was thinking; the little store just right outside of these woods has a pay phone that you can use.”

rafe nodded. “yeah, that sounds good.” he couldn’t think of the last time he woke up without not wanting the day to be over with already. “hey, listen— uhm, i owe you a huge one for everything you’ve done for me.. i apologize if it was an inconvenience in any way, but i really do appreciate you.” rafe got up, grabbing his wallet from your room. “here. please take it.” you looked down at the hundred dollar bills tucked between his fingers, shaking your head as you moved his hands away.

“absolutely not.” you laughed. “no, please, take it.” rafe got closer, opening one of your palms before closing it around the bills. “rafe, i don’t want it!” you backed away, “i’m serious.” rafe let out a sigh. he already knew how this would go, so instead of urging you to keep it, he placed the money on your dresser after he was done changing. “well i guess i’ll be leaving now.” you masked the disappointment on your face by offering him a smile. “yeah, i guess so..” without saying a word, you and rafe stared at each other before he wrapped his arms around you, the action giving you butterflies.

before you could say or do anything, he pulled away and left, leaving your camper feeling more emptier than usual. you walked over to the door where you watched him walk away until you couldn’t see him anymore, a pout on your lips as you did so. while you were sure that you would more than likely never see him again, you couldn’t have been more wrong. that day was the first of approximately one hundred and twenty one days, and counting, that you two would spend together. rafe came back to you the next day with a brand new pink cardigan to replace the other one you so selflessly let him ruin.

one icecream date turned into several, which then progressed into him coming over to your place with an overnight bag, his very own toothbrush now taking a spot next to yours. which then led to him picking you up and dropping you off at work, and so on until he finally said that you were his. you two spent the entire summer underneath the trees, rolling around in the grass as you two gasped each other’s names into your mouths, sharing sweet kisses and an even sweeter love that continued to grow with no intentions of ever stopping.

rafe had gotten sober out of fear that he wouldn’t remember what a love like this felt like if he was high all the time, and without judgement, you were there with him every step of the way. you stayed by his side when he felt like all hope was lost, and for that he could never thank you enough. although ward wondered where rafe would go off to, he didn’t bring himself to care as long as he was doing what he needed to do for the family business. with his dad off of his back, and you to come ‘home’ to everyday, he could say that he was finally, truly happy.

even now as you two sat in your favorite diner, sharing a milkshake and laughing at whatever the other was saying, you felt no worries when you and rafe were together, your heart threatening to burst at the seams everytime you looked at him. everything was perfect.. at least for now. all good things must come to an end, and when you two are threatened by none other than ward himself, the love bubble you two have been mindlessly floating in is suddenly popped.

taglist: @percysley @oceandriveab @archiveofvirtue @weirdowithnobeardo @mattyskies @ankoluvly @cnnamongrl @b3bybunny @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @lovinqbella @jeonmochi99-blog @corpsebridenightamare @whorelaud @mymvlody @idontknowwhyimhere33 @ursovaine

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kannady · 2 days ago

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rendezvous

summary: sylus has realised he's real, but everything around him isn't. but what happens when he decides to kidnap you from the real world?

a/n: ok! so contrary to my expectation, this week wasnt bad at all, just super tiring. i had no time to read anything let alone write. but i have a couple days off so hopefully ill finish this one. also this lovely idea from @tofufairy was just too good to only write as a oneshot. ill write it in two long ass parts. lemme know your thoughts!

word count: 6k

genre: sylus, love and deepspace, sexual tensions. slight stalking.

Sylus wiped grease from his knuckles with a ragged cloth, squinting at the bike’s engine like it had personally offended him. The bike wasn’t even broken, he just needed something to do with his hands, something to keep the silence at bay. The garage was quiet except for the occasional plink of a loose bolt hitting concrete and the distant hum of traffic. Then, footsteps. Light, almost skipping.

He didn’t look up until she was right beside him, her shadow stretching across his toolbox.

“Hey!” she said, voice bright enough to make his teeth ache. “Nice bike. Vintage, right?”

Sylus clenched his jaw. Don’t engage. She’ll leave if you don’t engage. He grunted, flicking a speck of rust off the carburetor.

She didn’t take the hint. Leaning in, she tapped the fuel tank like they were old friends. “My neighbour used to have one just like this. Well, almost like this. His was blue, and the seat had this weird tear-”

“Mhm.” Sylus reached for a wrench, deliberately turning his back.

“-oh, you’re so right, it’s totally going to rain later-”

Sylus stared.

Her voice twisted, warped. The words melted together like a shrill. His chest ached, hollow and heavy all at once. He knew this feeling. The one that came after the anger, when the fire burned out and left nothing but ashes.

Alone.

Even when she was here, screaming at nothing, he was alone.

She kept talking. About the weather. About some café down the street. About nothing, really. He tuned it out, focusing on tightening a bolt until his fingers hurt.

Finally, he stood, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. He didn’t bother with a goodbye, just walked toward the garage door, her voice still bouncing off the concrete walls behind him.

Then it hit him. The talking hadn’t stopped.

He glanced back.

She was still there, grinning at the empty space where he’d been standing, gesturing animatedly to no one. Her laughter echoed, high and bright, as if he’d never left.

Sylus exhaled through his nose. Not real. Again.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking.

Somewhere behind him, she was still laughing. Somewhere inside him, the silence was worse. (a/n: cue play last of us intro)

***

The clock glared at you from the corner of the screen. 11:47 PM.

Twelve minutes. Twelve fucking minutes.

Your fingers hammered the keyboard like it had personally wronged you. The essay was done, mostly, but the last paragraph was a wreck of half-formed thoughts and caffeine-induced word vomit. You backspaced violently, teeth sinking into your lower lip. “Come on, come on.”

Your roommate’s cat, a judgmental ball of fur called Binx, hopped onto the desk and sat on your notes.

“Not now,” you hissed, nudging him away. Binx flicked his tail in your face and settled just out of arm’s reach, watching you suffer with unblinking yellow eyes.

11:53.

You skimmed the essay one last time, your vision blurring from screen fatigue. Was that a typo? Did you mix up “affect” and “effect” again? The words swam on the screen, morphing into meaningless shapes.

Good enough. With a shaky breath, you hit Submit.

The page loaded with agonizing slowness.

11:58.

Your knee bounced under the desk. The cursor spun. Spin, spin, spin.

Submitted successfully!

The clock ticked over to 11:59.

You made a sound between a sob and a laugh, slumping back in your chair. The tension drained from your shoulders all at once, leaving you boneless. For a long moment, you just stared at the ceiling, your heartbeat finally slowing. The desk lamp cast long shadows, the room suddenly too bright, too quiet.

Binx meowed, unimpressed.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, but there was no heat in it. The relief was too sweet.

You got out of the chair, your muscles protesting like you’d run a marathon instead of typing. The shower beckoned you. Hot, steamy, glorious. You turned the water up until it nearly scalded, letting it pound the stress from your back. The shampoo smelled like coconuts, the steam fogging up the mirror until your reflection vanished. For the first time in weeks, you could finally breathe.

After, you slipped into your favorite slip dress. The oversized lavender one that pooled around your thighs. Your skin still hummed with the warmth of the shower, hair dripping lazily onto your shoulders.

Then, the real reward.

You snatched your phone off the charger, thumb hovering over the app you hadn’t opened in weeks. Love & Deepspace, the game you’d been too buried in assignments to touch. Just the icon made your pulse skip. The opening theme swelled as it loaded, the familiar melody wrapping around you.

“Please don’t crash. Please don’t-”

The home screen loaded, vibrant and welcoming. A rush of warmth flooded your chest. God, you’d missed this. Missed the pixel-perfect smiles of your favorite characters, the cheesy dialogues, the way your stomach fluttered during the romance scenes. It was stupid. It was perfect.

You curled onto your bed, pulling the comforter up to your chin. Binx settled beside you, purring.

For the first time in forever, you grinned.

“Alright, boys,” she whispered to the screen. “Let’s fall in love.”

You blinked at the screen, waiting.

The Destiny Café’s afternoon glow bathed everything in honeyed light. Cozy, inviting, but wrong. Because he wasn’t there.

Sylus should have been front and center, seated on the couch with that infuriating smirk, his silver-white hair catching the light like frost under the sun. His crimson eyes like blood spilled over fresh snow, should have been locked onto the screen, onto you, with that knowing glint that always made your stomach flip.

But the space where he usually stood was empty. Just an untouched coffee cup and the faint imprint of where his hip would have rested on the couch.

Your finger hovered over the screen.

What the hell?

You switched to Rafayel. He appeared instantly, greeting you with a soft smile. Then Zayne, Xavier, Caleb. All were present. Exactly as they should’ve been. But Sylus?

Gone.

You reloaded. Same empty café. Same hollow silence where his voice should have been.

A weird, creeping unease settled in your chest. This wasn’t right. Sylus wasn’t some side character. He was Sylus, the one who always greeted you, made you laugh but did, the one whose rare, genuine smile felt like a secret just for you.

You clicked the “Date” option. His name was still there. But his icon was grayed out, as if you’d never unlocked him. But you had. You knew you had. You remembered the grind, the late nights, the way your heart jumped when his story finally unfolded. You remembered the exact shade of his eyes. His sly remarks.

And now?

Now it was just… nothing.

The game hummed on, oblivious. The other characters chatted, flirted, existed like nothing was wrong.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was.

Where the hell was Sylus?

You switched characters again, as if he'd magically appear this time. But no. His spot remained empty. No silver-white hair catching the light, no crimson eyes glinting with amusement. Just emptiness.

Frustration settled under your skin. You exited the game, force-closed it, reopened it. Same empty café. Same missing man.

“Okay, maybe it’s just a bug.”

You hopped onto Reddit, scrolling through forums, searching for anything about Sylus missing. But there was nothing. No posts, no complaints, no panicked "Where's Sylus??" threads. Just the usual chatter. Fan theories, event guides, thirst edits about the other guys.

Your stomach twisted.

Why was no one else talking about this?

You checked the official website. No mention of him being removed. No maintenance notices. It was like the universe had decided to gaslight you.

What was the point of playing if he wasn't here?

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table. 2:43 AM. You were too tired for this. Maybe it was just a weird glitch. Maybe tomorrow, when you logged back in, he'd be there like nothing had happened.

With a sigh, you tossed your phone onto the nightstand, flicked off the light, and yanked the covers over your head.

***

You were jolted awake by a sudden, unnatural sensation. Not by any sound or dream, but by the distinct feeling of movement while lying completely still. Your eyes flew open to complete darkness, but this wasn't the familiar comforting dark of your bedroom. The air felt charged.

You rubbed your eyes and felt yourself lifting, floating, as if gravity had momentarily forgotten you existed. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized you were actually hovering, weightless. Before panic could fully take hold, you sensed a presence beside you, touching you. The heat from his body searing through his clothes, enveloping you. Did someone kidnap you?

Slowly, almost afraid of what you might see, you turned your head.

And there, carrying you bridal style, was Sylus. Not as pixels on a screen, but as a living, breathing being. His silver-white hair seemed to glow faintly in the darkness, like moonlight reflecting off fresh snow. Those crimson eyes, the ones you'd have known anywhere, locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart pound violently against your chest.

"You noticed," he murmured, his voice deeper and richer than you'd ever imagined, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. The scent of winter air and something faintly metallic, like cold steel, surrounded him. Every rational thought screamed that this couldn't be real, that you had to be dreaming, but the warmth of his breath against your skin felt terrifyingly real.

He smirked, that same infuriatingly perfect smirk you'd seen a hundred times on your phone screen, but now it was directed at you in a way that made your stomach flip. In this impossible moment, only one thought rang clear in your overwhelmed mind. He was real, he was here, and nothing would ever be the same again.

How the hell was he here and not in the game? But he wasn’t actually here, right? You were probably just dreaming. A dream that felt dangerously real. That had your heartbeat accelerating, the hairs on the back of your neck standing upright, your palms clammy, and your thoughts all mushed up.

In that moment, you could think of nothing else but to do the only sane thing. The one thing any normal person would do. You screamed. Maybe Sylus wasn’t expecting that. He stopped in his tracks and just for a faint second, you noticed his eyes widen. Your scream tore through the night air. Before the second shriek could escape, Sylus' gloved hand clamped over your mouth.

The leather smelled faintly of gun oil and winter mint, an unsettlingly human detail for someone who shouldn't exist.

"Easy there, little kitten," he murmured, crimson eyes glinting with amusement under the moonlight. "We're in the N109 Zone. Do you really want an audience here?"

His thumb brushed your cheekbone almost tenderly as he said it, lingering for just a moment longer, making your pulse stutter.

The scream died in your throat as his words registered. N109 Zone. You'd seen it in the game before. You remembered what almost happened to the MC when she first came here. Your wide eyes darted past Sylus' shoulder, finally taking in your surroundings properly.

Moonlight bled through the trees, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. The air hummed with something electric, raising goosebumps along your arms. You looked ahead to where Sylus was walking, still holding you swiftly like you weighed nothing. It was a glorious mansion adorned with intricate details, sculptures, gardens punctuated with red roses.

Sylus followed your gaze. "Ah. You've noticed our destination." His hand slid from your mouth and he stopped just for a moment to let you down. "Walk with me. Questions can wait until I’ve safely escorted you inside."

Every survival instinct screamed to wrench away, but the rational part of your brain knew escape would be futile. This was Sylus, after all. Dream or not.

You found yourself matching his strides as he led you toward the glowing mansion, your bare feet sinking into unnaturally warm moss with each step.

The night was still young. Your slip dress that had once been perfectly comfortable in your bedroom, now felt flimsy as a tissue paper.

"You're shaking," Sylus observed without breaking stride. His thumb stroked your pulse point, where your heartbeat fluttered like a caged bird. "Don't tell me you only like me from behind a screen."

“I do like you. But you’re not even real.” You managed to speak without stuttering, although you knew he sensed the nervousness in your voice anyway.

“Or am I, sweetie?”

"I like fictional characters who stay fictional," you snapped, then immediately regretted it when his fingers tightened fractionally.

Sylus laughed, a rich, unsettling sound that didn't quite reach those blood-bright eyes. "Oh, darling. If only you knew how fictional your world seems from here."

The mansion loomed closer, its glowing arches humming. Something in that sound made your teeth ache. Sylus' grip shifted to your elbow as you approached the massive doors, his breath warm against your ear. "Deep breaths now. I wouldn’t want my guest to panic. What kind of host would that make me?"

You locked eyes with him. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite discern. This dreaming was driving you crazy.

As the doors swung open silently, revealing a cavernous hall pulsing with strange light, you realized with dawning horror that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't just some bizarre dream. The game had never shown this place. Never warned about any of this.

And the man beside you, the one whose smirk had once made your stomach flutter, now felt about as safe as a live wire in a thunderstorm.

Your breath caught as you took in the grand hall, its vaulted ceilings stretching endlessly. The air hummed with a faint warmth, carrying the scent of aged parchment and something richer, like smoldering embers and black tea. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings, their swirling patterns shifting subtly under the glow of floating orbs of light that drifted lazily through the space.

This place shouldn't have existed.

You'd spent hours in Love & Deepspace, memorizing every pixel of Sylus' world, or so you'd thought. But this? This had never been in the game.

As if reading your thoughts, Sylus chuckled low beside you. "The game only showed the places I wanted it to."

You tore your gaze from the opulent decor to glance at him, but he was already looking away, his expression unreadable. Still, you caught the faintest curve of his lips, smug, satisfied. Like he was enjoying your bewilderment.

Before you could retort, he stepped forward, extending a gloved hand toward you. "Come." It wasn't a request.

You hesitated, fingers twitching at your sides. Every rational instinct screamed that you shouldn't take it, that you should demand answers, find a way back, run. But curiosity was a traitorous thing.

You placed your hand in his.

His fingers closed around yours, warm and firm, and suddenly, you were moving.

He guided you through the mansion with quiet precision, his grip on your hand unyielding as you moved through rooms that felt too expansive, too real to belong to any game. The air smelled of polished wood and gun oil. The walls were lined with sleek display cases, holding meticulously maintained firearms. Some modern, some antique.

A long hallway opened into what looked like an armory, racks of rifles and handguns. You recognized some from the game. The sleek, futuristic designs that had always appeared when you fought alongside Sylus. But others were unfamiliar, their edges worn from use. You paused beside a case holding a silver revolver. “This wasn’t in the game,” you murmured.

Sylus hummed, stepping closer. His shoulder brushed yours as he reached past you to tap the glass. “No. Some things are just for me.” His voice was low, intimate.

The next chamber was a training area. mats covering the floor, a shooting range tucked behind soundproof glass. A half-dismantled rifle lay on a workbench, its parts spread out.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Yes, Sylus was your most favourite fictional man. He was just your type. You’d spent hours reading his fanfictions, replaying his memories. Watching his fanarts. But this? This was incomprehensible. You were torn between the thoughts whether this was dangerous or exciting, whether you were dead or dreaming?

You turned to him, your pulse quickening. “Is this real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or am I inside the game?”

Sylus studied you for a long moment, his crimson eyes unreadable. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached out and caught your wrist, guiding your hand to his chest. Beneath the fabric of his shirt, you felt the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart.

“Does it matter?” he murmured.

Your fingers curled slightly against him, warmth seeping through the material. It was too real, the heat of his skin, the faint scent of leather and something darker, like black coffee. The game never felt this real. It felt, well, just like a game.

He tilted his head, watching your reaction with that same infuriating smirk. “You wanted answers,” he said. “But you haven’t asked the right question yet.”

You swallowed. “Then what’s the right question?”

Sylus leaned in, his breath brushing your ear. “Not where you are,” he said. “But why you’re here.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

Before you could respond, he straightened and tugged you forward again. “Come. I want to show you something.”

And despite the unease coiling in your stomach, you followed.

The heavy oak door swung open under Sylus' touch, revealing a library so vast it made your breath hitch. Towering mahogany shelves stretched toward the ceiling, their upper levels vanishing into darkness. Rolling ladders stood along the walls. The scent of aged paper and polished wood wrapped around you, rich and comforting.

You took an involuntary step forward, your fingers already itching to touch the spines. "This is..." Words failed you as your gaze traveled up, up, up the endless shelves.

"Excessive?" Sylus offered, his voice laced with amusement. He leaned against the doorframe, watching your reaction with those piercing crimson eyes. "Or perhaps just adequate."

You turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Adequate for what? Collecting every book ever printed?"

His lips quirked in that infuriating half-smile. "For you."

"For... me?" Your hand froze halfway to pulling out a volume of what appeared to be 18th century botanical illustrations.

"You like books." He pushed off the doorframe and strode toward you, his boots silent on the thick rug. "I noticed. When you wouldn’t log in to finish a book you’d just bought. When you'd pause the game just to squint at some background text."

Heat crept up your neck. You hadn't realized he'd been paying that much attention. How could you? Until now you didn’t know he was real. Although you still weren’t entirely sure. "So you... what? Built me a library?"

"Some of these don't exist in your world. First editions of books that were never published. Manuscripts that were lost to war or censorship." His gloved fingers brushed a bookspine. "Thought you might appreciate holding what others never got to read."

Your throat tightened unexpectedly. This wasn't just some game logic, this was thoughtful in a way that unsettled you. "But why go to all this trouble?"

Sylus tilted his head, considering you. "Why does a hunter maintain his weapons? Why does a scholar preserve his texts?" He reached past you to pull out a slender volume bound in deep blue leather. "We care for the things that matter."

That matter? Did you matter to him? So much to have him build you an entire library.

The book pressed into your hands felt strangely warm. You opened it carefully to find handwritten pages in a language you didn't recognize.

When you looked up, Sylus was watching you with an expression you couldn't decipher. "This is impossible," you whispered.

"Yet here you are."

Sylus watched you trail your fingers along the book spines, his gaze darkening as you bit your lip in concentration. When you pulled out a volume, his shadow fell over you, close enough that his breath stirred your hair.

“Find something interesting?” he murmured.

You turned too fast and suddenly you were chest-to-chest with him. The heat of his body seeped through your clothes. His eyes dropped to your parted lips.

“I-uh.” Your voice cracked. His smirk deepened. Ugh! How is he sexier in person?

He reached past you to rplace back the book, his arm caging you in, the scent of leather, gunpowder and black coffee wrapping around you. “Take your time, sweetie. I’ll always be right here.”

You had no idea how much time you spent immersed in the books, how long Sylus kept looking at you. As you put back a leather-bound book onto the shelf, you heard a soft ruffle a fabric as he stepped closer. “Not interesting?”

“Overwhelming?”

“Do you want to see your room, sweetie?”

“My room?”

He lead you through many different halls and up a long flight of stairs. The door swung open under Sylus' touch, revealing a bedroom that stole the breath from your lungs. Soft blush-pink walls glowed in the golden light of crystal sconces. White curtains fluttering gently in the breeze from the open doors that led to a private balcony.

You took an involuntary step forward, your fingers brushing against the plush velvet pillows in shades of ballet slipper pink and creamy ivory. Each one was embroidered with tiny floral details. On the nightstand sat a collection of porcelain trinket boxes, one shaped like a kitten, another like a miniature treasure chest. Exactly like the ones you'd been eyeing online but could never bring yourself to buy.

"I..." Your voice caught as you noticed the vanity table, arranged with crystal perfume bottles and a jewelry box with a tiny ballerina dancing inside. The mirror was framed with tiny LED lights, just like the one in your wishlist. "How did you...?"

Sylus leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. Even in setting, he looked effortlessly beautiful. The sharp features of his face contrasting with the softness surrounding him. "I know you have a particular fondness for pink," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Your cheeks warmed as you turned in a slow circle, taking in more details. A bookshelf held familiar titles, all your favorite novels in first edition hardcovers. The sitting area by the balcony had a plush reading chair with a crocheted blanket draped over one arm, the exact shade of cotton candy pink you'd once tweeted was your favorite.

On the dresser sat something that made your breath hitch. A limited edition snow globe from that anime you'd mentioned in passing months ago. Only 500 had been made worldwide. You reached out with trembling fingers to lift it, watching as glitter swirled around the tiny figures inside.

"You remembered this?" you whispered, unable to hide the wonder in your voice.

Sylus pushed off the doorframe and walked toward you, his boots silent on the plush cream carpet. "I remember everything," he murmured, so close now you could see the flecks of darker red in his irises. His gloved hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the leather cool against your flushed skin.

"The way your eyes light up when you talk about your favorite things. The exact shade of pink that makes you smile."

Your heart hammered against your chest as his fingers trailed down to tilt your chin up. The air between you was fused with tension, his gaze dropping to your lips. His right hand slid slowly up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair as he leaned in.

But your stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

Sylus blinked, then huffed a quiet laugh, stepping back. "Dinner is at eight," he said, adjusting his gloves with that familiar precision. "The closet should have everything you need." He gestured to a door you hadn't noticed before. "Though I suspect you'll find the contents... predictable."

With that, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

You stood frozen for a moment, still clutching the snow globe. Then, with shaky legs, you moved to investigate the closet. When you opened the door, a soft gasp escaped you. Racks of halter tops, micro skirts, mini shorts, bell-bottom jeans. Dresses with delicate lace trim, cozy sweaters with pearl buttons, even pajamas with little cartoon characters, all in your exact size.

A sound from outside drew you to the balcony doors. You stepped into the cool evening air just as the first notes of a piano floated up from the garden below. Leaning over the railing, you could see Sylus seated at a grand piano beneath a tree, his silver hair glowing in the twilight as his hands moved effortlessly across the keys.

The song was unfamiliar but beautiful, a melancholy melody that seemed to echo the strange ache in your chest. You wrapped your arms around yourself, watching as petals drifted down around him, caught in the breeze.

This man had recreated your dream bedroom down to the smallest detail. He knew your tastes better than anyone in your real life. And yet, as you watched him play with such quiet intensity, you realized with a pang that you didn't know the first real thing about him.

You slipped into a chiffon dress from the closet, one that hugged your curves in all the right places and a neckline that dipped just low enough to feel daring. After smoothing your hands down the fabric, you took a deep breath and headed downstairs, following the scent of roasted herbs and something rich and buttery.

The dining room took your breath away. A long, polished table stretched beneath a glittering chandelier, set with fine china and crystal glasses that caught the candlelight. Platters of food covered every inch. Seared scallops drizzled in lemon butter, rosemary-crusted lamb, truffle-infused mashed potatoes, and a dozen other dishes you couldn’t name but made your mouth water.

Sylus stood at the head of the table, his back to you as he poured wine into two glasses. He’d changed into a tailored black suit, the fabric stretching across his broad shoulders before tapering at his waist. When he turned, his crimson eyes flickered over you, lingering for a heartbeat too long on the dip of your neckline before meeting your gaze.

"You look exquisite," he said, his voice low.

Your pulse fluttered. "You didn’t have to go through all this trouble."

His lips curved. "I wanted to."

He pulled out your chair, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck as you sat, sending a shiver down your spine. The meal began in quiet elegance, the clink of silverware the only sound between you, at first.

But then you stole a glance.

His hands were unfairly elegant. Long fingers, swift movements as he speared a piece of lamb with his fork, the way his thumb pressed against the edge of the fork before bringing it to his lips. You watched, as he chewed slowly, the muscles in his jaw flexing before his throat worked with a swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

God! Why does he have to be so sexy?

At that point, you were torn between two dilemmas, as if two angels were fighting over what was right or wrong. He was hot and now you were imagining not so decent things. Why? Well, of course because he was Sylus. You loved him. But you hardly knew him. Technically, you knew him. But who knew if he was the same person? Did his looks make you forget one crucial thing? What the hell were you doing here!? What kind of dream was this? Maybe he knew…

You always knew he was dangerously attractive, but now you’d been too mesmerised with the newfound surroundings to notice. But now that you did…

Heat pooled in your stomach.

You looked away, taking a sip of wine to distract yourself, but it didn’t help. Every time he lifted his glass, you caught the way his fingers curled around the stem, the way his lips parted just slightly before the red liquid touched them.

A traitorous wetness settled between your thighs. Without thinking, you clenched them together, biting your lip. Sylus’ fork stilled.

"Careful now, kitten," he murmured, his voice a dark caress.

Your breath hitched.

He set his utensils down with deliberate slowness, his gaze locking onto yours. The candlelight flickered in his crimson eyes, turning them molten. "You keep looking at me like that," he said, "and I’ll start thinking you want something."

enjoy this cute gif. think of it as the room sylus prepared for you.

lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist for the next part!!

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starryeyedjanai · 1 year ago

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Steve and Eddie meet through their local buy-nothing-sell-nothing group when Steve’s getting ready to move in with Robin and he realizes he can't keep everything he owns while trying to merge households with her.

The first time they meet, Steve hadn't even been meaning to actually meet the person picking up the free toaster oven he’s giving away.

He’s setting his toaster oven outside his house on the porch when Eddie hops out of his van to pick it up and it would be rude to duck back inside without saying anything since he obviously sees him coming up, so they make small talk for a minute and Steve has to keep his eyeballs in check because they keep wanting to rake all the way down this guy’s body.

He’s covered in tattoos and so extremely Steve's type, but he knows better than to hit on someone who lives in his neighborhood and is not here for that reason.

He laments to Robin about it the next day, about the hot guy who’s probably using Steve's toaster oven as they speak, who he’ll probably never see again.

Robin rolls her eyes fondly at him and tells him that maybe if he puts more stuff up for grabs on the facebook group, he might see him again, but Steve suspects she just wants him to get rid of more of his stuff so it doesn't overcrowd their new apartment.

The set of items he puts up in the group next is an old blender and a butcher block that has three of the knives missing—seriously where did those knives go? He has yet to find them.

He tries to pretend he isn't secretly hoping Eddie will comment under his post that he wants the items, but he isn't fooling himself when his heart literally skips a beat when the first comment is from Eddie. He messages him and tells him to stop by later that day.

When Eddie shows up, they talk for longer than last time, Eddie asking why Steve needs to get rid of so much stuff and Steve asking why Eddie needs all this stuff—especially considering Steve snooped through the group and saw that Eddie joined over a year ago and hadn't once commented before now (he doesn't mention that thought, but he is thinking it real hard).

Eddie laughs and says he was in the market for a toaster oven when Steve posted one and wouldn't you know it? He also needs a blender—the knife set is just a bonus, he says.

Steve tries not to read too much into it, but his brain is spinning the interaction around in his head for the next week.

He puts up a space heater in the group and within minutes, Eddie has claimed it.

“I should just get your number and text you directly when I find something I want to get rid of next time,” Steve says flippantly when Eddie comes by to grab it that night. “Instead of clogging up the facebook group.”

Eddie smirks at him and steps a little closer. He says, “Maybe you should.”

His neighbor’s car alarm decides to go off right at that moment, ruining the flirty atmosphere with its incessant shrill. They can barely hear each other over the drone of it, so Eddie leaves without giving Steve his number and Steve is left feeling like he keeps having these missed connection moments with Eddie.

In a fit of desperation to see Eddie again, Steve puts up a bunch of random stuff in the group the next day—a shoe rack that’s missing a piece, a step stool, a cheap side table he got from Ikea—and Eddie is still the first person to comment like he’s been refreshing the page, just waiting for Steve to post.

“I left without giving you my number last time and I didn't want to be creepy and message you unprompted,” Eddie says as they load the side table into his van. “I think I was overthinking things and then got kind of spooked.”

“It doesn't look like anything could spook you,” Steve says.

When they get the side table inside the back of the van, Eddie turns to him and admits, “A very pretty boy could.”

Steve can feel his face getting hot. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Why do you think I keep coming here? There's no way a person who’s lived here for as long as I have would need all this stuff.”

“Did you need any of it?” Steve asks in a teasing voice. “Or were you just so blown away by how cute my profile picture is that you just had to meet me?”

“Oh, I needed the toaster oven, but everything after that was just to see you again,” Eddie says before biting his lip.

There’s an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach when Eddie's hand brushes his, when Steve takes Eddie's hand in his and leads him inside his box-filled house.

Later, when they’re making out on Steve's couch—when Steve really should still be packing since he has to move in less than a week—he pulls back to ask, “Wait, so are you gonna put the rest of the stuff you don't need back up for grabs in the group? I feel like that would start so much neighborhood gossip.”

Eddie grins wide and Steve wants to kiss him again, wants to feel his smile against his mouth.

“Oh, we’ll be the talk of the town, baby,” Eddie says, pulling him back in.

#steddie #stranger things #janai.doc

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chiiyuuvv · 8 months ago

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FOR CHERRY!! ★

boyfriend!jaehyun 0.8k

notes! very hurt/comfort! reader and jaehyun like jungkook bc i said they do so tempted to put &t but i was like nahh some kissing at the end happy birthday @cherrycolaberry !! you are very much loved and appreciated, and i hope you enjoy your day and this story <3 listen to the song!! (link is in 'notes!')

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

“..maybe we could cuddle and watch a movie?” you suggest to your boyfriend, closing the front door with one hand while the other stays intertwined with jaehyun’s, your head tilting in question as you glance at him. your puppy of a boyfriend nearly cried at the thought of separating after your date. fortunately, your house was closer to your previous location as you planned to spend the rest of the day together.

“I don’t really care as long as I'm with you,” he says in that lovesick voice of his, his thumb rubbing the back of your palm. you playfully rolled your eyes at his sappy comment to hide your flustered reaction. he couldn’t know your heart skipped a beat at his flirtatious words.

“shut up,” you mumble, a grin tugging at jaehyun’s lips as you drag him to your room. his lips open to say something, but they widen in shock once you unlock your bedroom door, revealing your room. your room was fairly neat, the only thing catching his eye being the amount of posters pinned on your walls. some were your favorite kpop groups posing coolly for the camera. the others being cute characters doing silly things, or random drawings that enhanced the color of your room.

“that’s.. a lot of posters,” jaehyun says out of breath, observing every tall piece of paper presented. he says it in a tone you’ve never heard before, making you subconsciously let go of his hand to awkwardly stand in the corner closest to you to play with your fingers. you’ve never thought the decoration of your room was a problem, but maybe it was one today.

“oh yeah, I uh- just kind of-”

“you like jungkook too?!” jaehyun says, unbeknownst to your antsy behavior. as he points to the poster of the idol, he hops in place, almost like he was offered free candy. “how come you’ve never told me?” he spins in disbelief, but when his eyes find your figure his heart almost breaks. “are you okay?” he slowly inches toward you, worry painted on his face when he sees your anxious expression.

you try to nod your feelings away, but your lips betray you. “I thought you didn’t like my room therefore didn’t like me and I-” you rambles were cut off by jaehyun’s soft shush, his lips pressing a reassuring kiss on your nose as his hands found yours to hold.

“how could I dislike something that makes you, you?” he hums, carefully lifting your chin so your eyes met his, his actions treating you like glass. “I love it when you’re you, no matter how silly you become,” a soft smile appears on jaehyun’s face when he hears a small giggle. he continues his words. “even if I had no clue who jungkook was – or any of your interests in that matter – i would still want to learn more about him and why your pretty self loves him so much. and if I didn’t like jungkook as much as you, I would still respect your enjoyments. my point is, it shouldn’t matter what i like, as i would never push my own beliefs onto you.”

your eyes twinkle at your boyfriend's words as he tugs at your hands, making you stand in front of his knees as he sits on the edge of your bed. “I’m sorry I made you think anything other than what I said,” he whispers, looking up at you as you look down at him, your hands brought to rest on his shoulders.

“It’s okay,” you smile, before silence engulfs you, getting lost in each other's eyes. jaehyun leans forward to press a peck on your chin, his hands grabbing your waist to slowly bring you to your knees. as he does so, he litters small kisses along your face, covering your cheeks, lips, nose, eyelids, and more with his love. he finally stops when your eye level, pressing a final kiss on your forehead before cupping your cheeks. “I love you,” his hands cup your cheeks, cradling your face.

“I love you too, jae,” jaehyun can’t help but kiss the precious smile off your face. he kisses you with passion, his lips furrowed together to convey the adoration he has for you. words will never be enough when he’s around you, his lips pressing against yours until you lose breath.

he lets go of your figure to scoot back on your bed, his back hitting the backrest as he opens his arms invitingly. your head nuzzles into his neck as his hands find their way back around your waist. “what movie are we going to watch?” he whispers, his hands rubbing your back in small circles. pressing a kiss against your head, he knew he wasn’t going to be paying attention to the tv screen. nope, not when his beautiful girl was next to him.

︴bonus! reminder that you should feel free from judgement when liking something different from your peers. if they can't respect that, drop them have a nice conversation and state your boundaries and if they still can't respect it, thatssss when you drop them <3 HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHERRY MWAHHHHHH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH DJNOURAHJBIE

▸ taglist 📬 @cherrycolaberry ,, open! use the link to fill the form out

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers

#boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #bnd fanfic #bnd scenarios #bnd fluff #bnd x reader #bnd imagines #jaehyun x reader #boynextdoor jaehyun #jaehyun bnd #myung jaehyun x reader #jaehyun #bnd jaehyun #bnd #bonedo

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sopiao · 2 years ago

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könig who is absolutely head over heels for you.

talks about you so much that you’re surprised when his comrades knows quite a bit about you when you drop in for a brief visit.

goes on various and long tangents and rambles about you, sometimes he just forgets he’s talking to other people and just continues his ramble in German.

which leaves his comrades and teammates confused but not wanting to disturb his babbling and just leave him to talk to himself at this point. it’s not until later, in the middle of the night, that he realizes it.

most of his mates can’t even believe him whenever he talks and describes his lover, how sweet they are, the funny interactions and moments they have, and just how drop dead gorgeous you are.

König gets slightly offended but understands that sometimes not even he could believe it that he has such and amazingly beautiful and wonderful partner.

“Know what? I call them right now”

and when you pick up, replying on you laptop that’s sitting on your bed next to you while laying down in nothing but a black tank and his grey sweats (that you love to see him wear), their jaws drop.

“Hallo, leibling!”

“Hey, Ko!”

not only are they just stunningly gorgeous, their voice is just so comforting and energizing to hear. they all just stay quite and witness the conversation between the two.

in the middle of the conversation he just forgets that he called them for the sole reason to prove to his friends that you’re real, and he just skips himself to his room and plops himself on his bed like he’s on cloud nine.

i like to think that this 6’10, pure muscle of a man lays on his stomach and kicks his feet in the air when he talks to you or when he hears you talk, maybe even twirl a lock of hair in his finger.

when you drop by the base to go give him a quick visit before you have to leave for engineering college, both plans overlapping, so you won’t be available when he gets out.

he’s happily waiting by the entrance, rocking himself back and forth on his heels with his arms behind his back, as he bounces with excitement.

when your large truck parks and you hop out of the car, not even bothering to turn off the car, as you run up and meet König in the middle in a snake trap of a hug. tightly snaking his arms around you, as he spins you around. Price and Soap laughing at the very visible height and size difference between the two.

when the large Austrian man let you down back on the gravel road.

you barely reached his chest.

the 141 found it cute and quite wholesome that you had to pull him down by his vest and you pushing yourself up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the nose.

when König finally formally introduced you to his teammates, you were very much like him, shy and introverted. König was quite comfortable with them so he was happy to be your voice to them.

the rest of the boys were stunned and slightly nervous as well. hands shaking or face blushing when you individually shook each of their hands, but they still gave you a warm and inviting welcome.

even when their in the common room, either talking or planning their next plan of action for an upcoming undercover mission.

but of course König was more occupied with you, of course, there were no other seats (lie) so you had to sit on his lap, his hands either wrapped around your middle or resting on your hips.

when you both thought that no one was looking or paying attention to you two, you would look up at your boyfriend and he’d cover both of you under his sniper hood to give you a quick peck on the lips and a nuzzle his nose against yours.

omfg

when you sit normally back on his lap and he looks back up to his comrades, and sees all of his friends staring that their with a teasing smirk or a ‘really?’ face. They both covered their face in embarrassment, showing how similar they both are.

no doubt that Soap and Price are teasing the two when they both sleepily walk into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, König walking in shirtless instead it’s on your sleepy figure. jokes and jabs are thrown at the sleepy couple as König just waves them off as he leans against the counter, sipping a cup of coffee as he wraps his arms around you while you lean your back against his chest.

they didn’t really mind you being there, they were happy to see their teammate so happy and energetic, much different from how quiet he is.

when you do leave since you can’t stay for long, he stays on call for you all night while you drive, wanting to make the most of it. he knows he’ll be tired in the morning. but for you? worth it.

by the time it’s 3:52 AM he’s on the verge of drifting off into deep sleep, muttering and mumbling responses, 90% of them not even being in english or coherent german.

you called him to try and keep you awake during your drive, but just knowing he’s there on the other side of the line is enough to keep you content. it’s all about quality time.

#call of duty modern warfare #konig cod #konig fluff #konig headcanons #konig x reader #konig fanfiction #könig x you #könig x y/n #könig imagine #könig mw2 #könig headcanons #könig my beloved #cod fanfic #cod men #cod mw2 #kortac #hes such a cutie patootie #konig acting like a puppy in love #task 141

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xanneeeyyyy · 3 months ago

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Stupid Cupid! Stop picking on me

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x F!Reader Synopsis: After a great date, you had the dumbest idea ever—serenading your explosive boyfriend in the middle of the night just to see his reaction.

It was late evening, the air cool and crisp as you and Katsuki strolled back to the dorms after your date. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional car passing by, the soft hum of the city settling into its nighttime rhythm. Your boyfriend, Katsuki, walked beside you with his hands shoved into his pockets, his scowl ever-present, but not the angry kind—it was more of a comfortable scowl, the kind that meant he was content, even if he’d rather combust than admit it. The city lights cast a warm glow over the quiet streets, and the atmosphere was just... perfect.

Too perfect.

And that’s when the dumbest idea struck you. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you took a deep breath and—

🎶 Stupid Cupid, you’re a real mean guy~ 🎶

Katsuki’s entire body jerked to a stop, his head whipping toward you with an expression so alarmed you’d think you just announced you were dropping out of UA to become a jazz singer.

“…The fuck?” he muttered.

🎶 I’d like to clip your wings so you can’t fly~ 🎶

His scowl deepened. “What the fuck does that even mean?!”

Oh, this was going beautifully.

🎶 I’m in love and it’s a crying shame~ 🎶

Your hands crossed over your chest, as you swayed your hips down, putting all your heart and soul into the performance. Katsuki’s jaw physically dropped. Like, an honest-to-God, cartoon-style jaw drop. You could almost hear the boing sound effect in the background.

“Oh, HELL no—“

🎶 And I know that you’re the one to blame~ 🎶

"ME?!" he squawked, pointing at himself like you had just accused him of high treason. "What the fuck did I do?!"

🎶 Hey hey, set me free! 🎶

You spun again, letting go of his hand for extra dramatic flair, arms wide open like you were the main character in a grand, romantic musical. Katsuki looked around in sheer panic, like someone—anyone—was witnessing this disaster unfold.

Spoiler: They weren’t.

🎶 Stupid Cupid, stop picking on me! 🎶

"OH MY FUCKING GOD—" Katsuki groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "OI—WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" He barked, grabbing your arm—only for you to spin out of his grasp like a professional dancer and keep going. You giggled, skipping a few steps ahead, enjoying how his ears were definitely turning pink. But you weren’t done yet.

Not even close.

You then spotted a park up ahead—a perfect little stage just waiting for you.

You gasped. This was fate.

"DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE—"

Oh, but you dared.

Without hesitation, you bolted towards it, hopping onto a bench with the grace of a Broadway star.

🎶 I can’t do my homework and I can’t think straight~ 🎶

Katsuki scoffed. “YEAH, NO SHIT. YOU’RE EMBARRASSING AS HELL RIGHT NOW.” His explosions crackled to life in his palms. His whole body radiated chaos.

You? You just kept going.

"AND FUCK— DUMBASS, QUIT MOVIN' AROUND LIKE THAT!"

🎶 I meet him every morning 'bout a half past eight~🎶

"HEY—ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!"

🎶 I’m acting like a lovesick fool~ 🎶

You clasped your hands over your heart, dramatically wilting like you had been struck by Cupid’s arrow in real-time. "YOU’RE ACTIN’ LIKE A DAMN LUNATIC, THAT’S WHAT!" Katsuki let out a long, suffering sigh, scrubbing his face aggressively with his hands. "You ARE a fool,"

🎶 You’ve even got me carrying his books to school~ (Stupid Cupid) 🎶

"WHOSE BOOKS?! WHO THE FUCK IS HE?! YOU TALKIN’ ABOUT ME OR SOME OTHER SHITHEAD?!"

Your hips swayed, hands clutching at your chest as you twirled dramatically. Katsuki looked one second away from combusting.

🎶 Hey hey, set me free! 🎶

"FUCKIN’ STOP, PRINCESS!"

🎶 Stupid Cupid, stop picking on me! 🎶

Katsuki’s entire soul left his body for a moment. His hands fisted in his hair. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out—only strangled, painful noises. He stood there, arms crossed, glowering. But his glare didn’t stop you. If anything, it fueled you.

THIS IS MY LIFE NOW. THIS IS WHAT I HAVE TO DEAL WITH. He thought to himself

He groaned again, louder this time, like the universe was actively punishing him.

🎶 You mixed me up for good right from the very start~ 🎶

🎶 Hey, go play Robin Hood with somebody else’s heart~ 🎶

"WHO THE FUCK IS ROBIN HOOD?! WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT—"

🎶 You got me jumping like a crazy clown~ 🎶

Katsuki twitched violently. "I'LL GIVE YOU A DAMN CRAZY LUNATIC CLOWN AND COMMAND IT TO HAUNT YOU EVERY NIGHT THAT I’LL EVEN DENY YOU FROM GETTING CUDDLES WHEN YOU GET FUCKING SC—"

🎶 And I don’t feature what you’re putting down~ 🎶

🎶 Since I kissed his loving lips of wine~ 🎶

He froze.

🎶 The thing that bothers me is that I like it fine~ (Stupid Cupid) 🎶

His face went bright red. His explosions stuttered in his palms. He looked one second away from completely imploding on himself.

🎶 Hey hey, set me free! 🎶

"YOU LITTLE—"

🎶 Stupid Cupid, stop picking on me! 🎶

As the last note left your lips, you struck a grand pose, throwing your hands high into the air like a true performer finishing their masterpiece. Then, with a smug smirk, you eyed Katsuki—and more importantly, his hands.

You wiggled your fingers. He scowled, blinking. "What?" You wiggled them again, tilting your head toward his very capable fire-producing hands. Realization dawned on him. His face twisted into an expression of pure betrayal. "Oh, hell no—" You pouted dramatically, batting your lashes at him. His eye twitched. "I’m not—" You kept staring.

"—Dumbass, you seriously—"

More staring.

Katsuki made a sound so guttural it could have come from the depths of his soul. His hands flexed. His palms sparked. His pride cracked in half.

And then—

BOOM!

Golden fireworks erupted from his palms, lighting up the night sky in a spectacular, dazzling display. A perfect ending to your perfect performance. You clapped, giggling. "There it is! You do love me!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" he barked, face the color of a tomato. "I only did it so you’d stop looking at me like that!”

"Mm-hmm." You hopped down from the bench, grabbing his hand. You grinned up at him. "So? What’d you think?" For a second, silence. Just Katsuki, standing there, still so red it was hilarious. "Tch." He rubbed the back of his neck aggressively. "You're such a pain in the ass."

You smirked, "A cute pain in the ass who makes your heart go boom boom~"

"I’M GONNA FUCKING LOSE IT,"

You giggled. "You were watching me like a lovesick fool~"

"I WAS NOT—"

You poked his cheek. "Don’t be shy suki~"

"FUCKING STOP—"

"Awwww, you’re so cute when you’re flustered!"

Katsuki groaned so loudly that birds scattered from the trees. "WHY DO I EVEN LIKE YOU?!" You squeezed his hand. "Because I make your life interesting~”

"I SWEAR TO GOD—"

As you both walked back to the dorms, Katsuki still grumbling under his breath, you suddenly squeezed his hand a little tighter and looked up at him with a soft smile.

You glanced up at him with a soft smile before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I love you, Suki," you murmured, your voice warm and teasing. Katsuki froze. His entire body went stiff, and for a moment, you thought he might actually combust on the spot. His ears turned a dangerous shade of red, and his grip on your hand tightened just a fraction. "...Tch." He exhaled sharply, still looking away. Then, in a gruff, almost reluctant mumble, he muttered, "I love you too, dumbass."

You blinked, then grinned way too wide. "Awwww! That was so—"

"Shut up," he grumbled, dragging a hand down his face. "Just—don’t do that shit again! Singing in the middle of the night like a damn lunatic—"

"But you loved it," you teased, nudging him. "and oh please, if you really wanted me to stop, you could’ve just thrown me over your shoulder and carried me off," You tilted your head, giving him a knowing look. "But you didn’t."

Katsuki's eye twitched. "That’s not the damn point!" You grinned wider. "No, the point is you secretly wanted me to finish my cutesy performance,"

"LIKE HELL I DID—"

"Yet instead of physically stopping me," you continued, ignoring his outrage, "you just stood there ranting while watching me like a lovesick fool."

"I WAS NOT—"

"Like a grumpy little firecracker in love~"

"SHUT IT"

Giggling, you squeezed his hand. "You know you love me, Katsuki."

He groaned, looking away as his ears somehow got redder. "Fucking unfortunately."

And with that, hand still in his, you continued your way back to the dorms—Katsuki grumbling the whole time, but still squeezing your hand just a little tighter.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this new piece! Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Also, thank you for all the love and support—it truly warms my heart to see you reading my work. Some of you may be familiar with this scene—I actually referenced it from a K-drama (though I totally forgot the title), but yeah, that was it HAHAHA.

#Spotify #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x female reader #romance #mha x reader #bakugou fluff #stupid cupid #lyric posting #reaction #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugouxreader #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugou

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shares-a-vest · 2 years ago

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I just think Eddie would add the nickname 'Slugger' to his roster of pet names for Steve when he finds out about the nail bat...

Eddie awakens to a scratching sound at Steve's bedroom window.

He thinks it must be the trees. God knows the isolated Loch Nora has enough of them to make a consistent amount of noise 24/7. But his heart skips a beat when he comes to enough to remember that there is in fact, no tree directly outside Steve's bedroom window.

He flips over to face his boyfriend, sending their blankets flying and starling with enough movement he rattles the set of framed baseball cards Steve has on the shelving of his headboard. But the fanatic himself doesn't move, still fast asleep. Looking all angelic and cute as he steadily breathes in and out with only the faintest hint of a snore.

"Steeeeve," he panics, slapping his shoulder, "Steve, there's something at the window!"

Again, nothing.

He groans and leans forward, pressing his weight on him as he speaks directly in his ear, "Steve, wake up and put your goddamn ears in, I'm scared."

He doesn't care that it all sounds a little dramatic. Steve knows he's a total scaredy cat.

"Eds," Steve murmurs, sounding very grumpy, "What is it?"

"There's something outside."

Steve pushes him off, snapping to and hopping straight out of bed in one swift move. Eddie scrambles, spluttering as he struggles against the, now tangled, bed sheets. He looks up just in time to see Steve duck down and retrieve something from underneath his side of the bed…

It's a baseball bat.

A baseball bat covered in large nails. Nails that have been haphazardly hammered in, sticking out every which way and making it quite the deadly weapon.

He watches as Steve spins it around in his hands before gripping it tight and standing at the ready. Oh.

Steve cocks his head and quirks a brow in the direction of the frightening window in question.

The noise is still there, tap, tap a-tapping on the window.

But Eddie really couldn't give a shit anymore because now he is solely focused on his boyfriend creeping towards the window, waving his bat like he geeing himself up to hit a homer. His hands clench with every step, exposing all the veins on his hands and spider up his forearms. All the while the guy is sporting his impossibly voluminous bed hair and skulking along in his loose and tantalisingly-thin sleep shorts that leave nothing to Eddie's filthy imagination.

Well, maybe he can think of a few things…

"Step back against the wall," Steve commands, not tearing his eyes away from the window.

Eddie nods, backing back and clutching at the wall for support as his heart beats faster as Steve whirls the bat around again. He palms along the wall, feeling around until his shaking hand hits the bed and he stumbles onto it.

But Steve isn't paying attention to his immediate disobedience. He is too busy looking out the window.

"Oh, fuck," he curses before groaning with abject annoyance, "Eds!"

"Huh?" Eddie mumbles, watching Steve's bare shoulders flex and then drop as he allows the nail bat to fall by his side.

"It's a raccoon!" Steve whines, stumping the bat into the carpet with a solid thump to punctuate his frustration.

He whips around and starts off for the bed again, dragging his weapon along behind him. As if in a reverse move, Steve rolls the bat back to its hiding spot and flops onto the bed.

"Eds, I was dead asleep!" he complains, dry-sobbing. He helicopter-kicks his feet in order to propel his legs back onto the bed properly, "Why couldn't you have checked it out first?"

"Excuse me," he protests, raising a hand to his chest in offence, "I was terrified."

"You woke me up!" Steve retorts, pulling the covers about without a great deal of finesse - if anything, his technique makes their bedding situation worse.

"Could'a used that weapon up against a colony of flesh-eating bats, my dear," Eddie grins as he attempts to smooth out the crumpled covers before quickly abandoning the futile task.

"Yeah, no shit," Steve snaps. He really is a bitch when he's sleep-deprived a grouchy, "But I didn't exactly have time to come here and get it. You being a wanted fugitive and all."

"I apologise for the inconvenience," he teases, holding out grabby hands, "Come here, Slugger, and I'll make it up to you."

Steve smirks, thoroughly perking up at the new pet name. And before Eddie knows it, his baseball bat-wielding boyfriend is lunging straight over their mountain of twisted blankets for him.

#writing something sports-ball related because my family is watching footy #and i'm over here lurking on this hellsite reading/writing about the babysitter and the metalhead kissing #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie headcanon #lilys hcs

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quartz-kilsviken · 4 months ago

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Written in the Runes

Chapter 5

➸ Synopsis: Ekko, your mischievous yet endearing local troublemaker, trails a wealthy academy student from the topside. When you end up with the student’s satchel, you find a notebook filled with intriguing magical research. Unable to resist, you embark on a quest to uncover the secrets of this mysterious scholar.

➸Pairing: JayVik x Reader

➸Chapter Word Count: 1,907

➸Tags: slow burn, yearning, eventual smut, non canon compliant, future angst

➸Notes: Just one more short chapter, and then the real adventure at the Academy begins. Oh, my beloved Ekko and Benzo—how I hope nothing bad happens to them. ╭(๑¯д¯๑)╮

➸Previous Chapter: Pt.4

➸ Next Chapter: Pt.6

So much has changed in a single night that part of you has forgotten the world is still turning. Jayce and Viktor left after the presentation with Heimerdinger to search for an available lab space at the academy. Kahl is probably down at the docks, tinkering with his ship, grumbling about whatever’s got him worked up today. The enforcers are busy harassing Undercity civilians, and those civilians—well, two of them are currently squabbling in front of Benzo’s shop. From the rooftop of the neighboring building, you can’t make out what they’re fighting about, but one of them definitely has a broken nose now. You could slip by, but what if one of them turns on you, pulling you into their mess? No, that’s not why you’re stalling. The real reason is that, once you step inside, you’ll be interrogated, and you can’t think of a single thing to say that won’t make you sound insane. ‘Sorry I disappeared, Benzo. I ran off with a couple of scientists, broke into the academy, and used illegal tech to harness magic.’ Or maybe it’s not that you’re afraid he won’t believe you—it’s that you’re terrified he will. And then, inevitably, you’d have to tell him you’re leaving.

On the walk over, your mind ran through every possible outcome—anger, disappointment, dread. But the one that really haunts you is the fear of him being proud. You picture yourself coming back five months from now, admitting you’ve failed. That you weren’t good enough. That you’re nothing like your mother. That you’ll never be as certain or fearless as she was.

Your first day with Benzo is a blur. The tears in your eyes had clouded everything. He hadn’t been angry with you for crying, or for lashing out at him and the rest of the world. He just let you cry until you’d worn yourself out, until all you could do was stare blankly at the wall. Would he let you do that again?

"Where have you been?" The voice startles you, and you almost lose your balance, nearly falling over the edge. You want to be angry at the close call, but as soon as you spin around, you see Ekko. Hands on his hips, foot tapping, like a parent scolding a misbehaving child. You bite your lip to keep from laughing—it’ll only make him more frustrated. His eyebrows shoot up, silently telling you to answer, and fast.

"Visited your friend's crime scene." You grip his head and make him turn around. "Come on, let’s get inside, and I’ll tell you the whole story. Promise it’s a good one." He perks up at that, hopping down the building, into the shop.

You follow him, and as he bursts through the door, he yells, "I found her!"

Okay, so your guess was right—Benzo looks furious. You fight the impulse to bolt, but Ekko steps in front of you, blocking the door. With a resigned sigh, you trudge toward the counter and jump to sit on top.

He’s still silent, eyes narrowed. You know you’ll have to start talking first. "It’s a great story," you offer, trying to ease the tension.

It doesn’t work. "I don’t care if you were out saving the world, we thought you were dead. Or rotting away in Stillwater."

"It’s..." Yeah, you can’t argue with that. "I wanted to come back sooner, but the council wouldn’t let us leave."

Okay, so we’ve skipped disappointment and gone straight into dread. You’d better wrap this up before he drops dead from shock. "Nothing bad happened, I swear," you rush out, trying to calm him. You dig through your bag, pull out Jayce’s notebook, and hand it to Benzo. Ekko jumps onto the counter beside you, leaning in to get a look. The moment he sees the notebook, his eyes narrow at you as if saying, ‘You swore you wouldn’t tell him.’ You gently squeeze Ekko’s shoulder, silently begging him to calm down.

Benzo flips through the notebook, brow furrowed. You see him processing, so you help him along. "The academy guy left this behind. It’s his research."

"What does some topside boy have to do with you disappearing all night?" Benzo’s voice is sharper than you expected.

You scramble for the right words. "I… uh, went to find him. Thought he should get his research back."

"Mhm." Benzo raises an eyebrow. "You thought he should get it back… covered in your writing?"

"Yeah, I thought... well, I thought I could help. And I was right! Me, him, and another scientist from the academy figured out how to use it." The image of the two of them floating flashes in your mind, and you can feel your cheeks heating up without meaning to. You quickly push forward, desperate to move on—the last thing you want is for them to ask more about the pair. If Ekko notices your obvious interest, he’d never stop teasing you. Snatching the notebook back, you flip to the page you want and angle it so both Ekko and Benzo can see. "Look! He figured out how to harness magic with these crystals. They built a machine to stabilize them."

You can't help yourself; you're practically narrating your adventure. "So, after all that, we figured it out, but the kids blew up the lab, and all of his equipment was stuck at the academy. So Viktor—uh, the dean’s assistant—well, not really an assistant anymore…" Benzo gives you a look that silently says, get to the point. "Anyway, he had the keys to Heimerdinger’s lab, so we..." You trail off, realizing what you're about to say. The silence fills the gap.

"YOU BROKE INTO THE ACADEMY?" Ekko explodes, eyes wide with excitement, practically vibrating in place.

"Well… technically, yes, but—Counselor Medarda caught us before we could even get inside and kinda gave us permission. Sort of." Benzo opens his mouth to protest, but you keep going. "And it worked! They kept us there all night and had us present to the council. That’s why I couldn’t come home. But—they’re letting us develop the tech now."

Benzo stares at the notebook, processing everything. You give him a moment to digest, but the silence feels heavy, like you’re about to lose your nerve. You reach into your pocket and slowly place the key on the table.

Benzo’s fingers touch the cool metal, and finally, he meets your eyes. And there it is: pride. The part you were most afraid of, but right now, in this moment, it fills you with a warmth so strong that it overshadows everything else.

You hop off the counter and slowly peel off your cloak, revealing your uniform. “Uh, they want me to take a few classes.”

Ekko eyes your outfit, doing a quick 180 before stopping in front of you. “Want me… to adjust your uniform? It’s so... white.”

You laugh, surprised that of all things, this is what caught his attention. The academy would never approve of an ‘Ekko version’ but you can’t bring yourself to refuse him.

“Go wild,” you say, tossing your stolen satchel at him. Without missing a beat, he dashes off into his room, leaving you alone with Benzo. For some reason, you believe Jayce won’t mind if you hold on to this piece of your beginning together.

The silence between you and Benzo feels heavy, and his unreadable expression makes it worse. “Guess Ekko’s going to be stuck with dock runs now, huh?”

You absentmindedly pick at something on the counter, avoiding his gaze. “They want us to start immediately.” You study the key in your hand like it holds some hidden significance. “I’ve got a room at the academy now, but… I don’t know.” You can’t help but glance toward the back door, your chest tight with the sense that you’re betraying them.

“None of that,” Benzo interrupts, his voice cutting through the tension. “Look at me.”

You do, though the moment your eyes meet his, you feel a tightness in your throat, fighting the urge to look away.

“He’ll be fine,” Benzo says quietly, his voice calm, like he already knows it’s true. He stands and starts rummaging behind the counter, trying to keep busy. “And you,” he adds, not looking up, “you’ll be fine, too. Actually, you’re going to be great. It’s everything she wanted for you. And knowing how stubborn your mom was, I’m betting she figured out a way to make sure it happened—even from the other side.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the tightness in your chest easing just a little.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable. You’re not rid of me completely. I’ll still come back and check in on that little troublemaker of yours.”

Benzo snorts and drops a heavy bag of coins in front of you.

“Benzo…”

“I owe you for your last run,” he says, matter-of-fact, as if it’s nothing.

You eye the bag, raising an eyebrow.

“This is enough for five runs.”

He gives a half grin. “Told ya—you’re robbing me blind, little lady.” Then his smile softens, and his voice shifts, like he’s giving you something important. “But seriously, take it. Use it for you. Don’t save it for some disaster or send it back to Ekko. It’s yours.”

You stare at the bag for a beat, the weight of his words sinking in. It’s not just the money—it’s his way of telling you to take care of yourself for once.

With a sigh, you swing your legs off the counter and pull him into a hug. He doesn’t stiffen for once, just wraps his arms around you, strong and warm. You hold on a little longer before pulling away. “Thanks, Benzo.”

Packing is quick. You don’t have much, but the paintings? Those are harder. You handle each one like it’s a piece of your past you can’t leave behind. You could leave them here—Benzo would keep them safe—but the thought of leaving them behind feels wrong. One by one, you tuck them into your bag, feeling their weight in your hands, like you’re holding onto pieces of yourself.

Just as you finish, the door creaks open.

Ekko steps inside, his grin already wide. You don’t even need to ask—he’s holding something behind his back.

He places the satchel in your hands and pulls out two bottles of paint. Your eyes flick over the splatters of color, his art is covering most of the brown leather, except for one spot. Without hesitation, he sits cross-legged on the floor, like he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

You watch him as he carefully dips the brush into the paint and applies it to your hand. The strokes are deliberate, each one marking the moment.

“I’m leaving my address with Benzo. I expect letters—don’t care if it’s just scribbles from you and Powder. And don’t get into more trouble. The old man’s already grey enough.” You laugh, but it catches in your throat, and you swallow it down.

“You worry too much. You’re the one turning grey, you know.” Ekko chuckles softly, but his focus stays on the brush, each stroke slow and thoughtful. He finishes painting his own hand and then places both of your hands over the satchel, pressing your palms onto the leather.

The feel of the paint on your skin is warm, grounding, like you’re both leaving something behind—a mark, a memory, something that will stay with you no matter what happens next.

#arcane jayce #viktor arcane #jayce x reader #jayvik x reader #viktor x reader #jayce/viktor #jayce talis #jayce x viktor #jayvik #jayce league of legends #viktor/reader #viktor/jayce #viktor x you #viktor league of legends

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cursedwretch · 4 months ago

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What Lurks Beneath - Chapter 5

GIF by featherlumina

Viktor x AFAB!Reader; Word count: 4948 Words; Rating 18+ MDNI

AO3 | Prev

The smut is here, the smut is here! Content warnings below: CW: A smidge of soft dom!Viktor/switch!Viktor if you squint, Vaginal sex, Vaginal fingering, praise kink

Chapter also contains canon-typical (implied) violence, and mentions of injury/blood.

In the cramped confines of Heimerdinger’s carriage, I avoid Viktor’s eyes at all costs. I ignore how his finger traces his lower lip as he stares absently out the window. Realistically, I should be grateful for ride home, but right now I’m half-convinced it was some contrived torture method.

Gods, help me.

Heimerdinger fills the air, ensuring there are no pregnant pauses throughout the journey, rattling off plans for the remainder of the month. Meetings, meetings, meetings.

One such meeting, uncharitably, is apparently taking place at 8 the following morning. Perfect. A board meeting, Heimerdinger informs me, so not one I can skip. Naturally. He’s practically immortal, I remind myself. I doubt he’s ever experienced a hangover, or even needed to sleep in a day in his too-long life.

“Thank you for the notice,” I clip, though it’s a struggle to come across neutral. I paste on a weak smile for good measure. From the edge of my vision, I catch Viktor’s shoulders silently shaking with laughter, shifting to face the window fully. The little shit.

It isn’t until Heimerdinger exits, hopping out with a bright ‘see you in the morning,’ that Viktor looks at me. His hand sliding from his lips as he turns my way.

Lidded eyelids and a lazy smirk. My heart lurches. And there’s something about the way he fixates on my mouth has me following that tug—stumbling across the distance to scramble into his lap. His hands meet my hips, holding me steady as he looks up at me, his head tilting back with a soft exhale. Whisky. Another taste wouldn’t hurt, would it? My hands float up to hold his face between them, thumb swiping across the mole on his cheek.

“I don’t live far,” he warns.

I dip down, pulling his lips to mine, watching as his eyes flutter closed. Strong hands pull me tight against him, one shifting to splay out flat against the small of my back. I trace the seam of his lips with my tongue. He gives me access with a groan, tongue running along mine.

The hand on my hip roams up, tracing along the side of my body, into the dip of my clavicle, before coming to rest on the nape of my neck. I breath in, deep, smiling against his lips as our teeth click. One of those little snags when things are still new. He laughs in turn as he pulls back, hand in my hair holding me in place.

My eyes fluttered open to find his earlier bravado replaced by a shy curve of his lips. “Almost there,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Would you like to come up?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He cranes up once more, pulling me into another kiss—slow and soft and heady. He sucks on my bottom lip and it sends my head spinning, whining softly into his mouth.

The motorcarriage jostles as it comes to a stop. I’m hesitant to break away. Greedy. My fingers clutch at his lapels, pulling closer.

“Up,” he smiles against me, guiding me off of his lap.

It’s an awkward scramble out of the carriage. Viktor’s the first to step out, leaning to the driver to shake his hand with a quick thanks. I’m fairly certain he slipped some coin his way as well. Good. I follow without decorum, stumbling out, taking Viktor’s hand as he offers it.

Its quiet. And something electric hums through the air as he leads me to his front door. The feeling thickens when we reach it. With a swallow, his eyes glance my way for a split second before he unlocks the door, propping it open.

Black currant tea, warm leather, and wood envelope me. It smells completely, utterly, like Viktor. Comforting, complex.

His apartment is messy; not health-risk messy, but certainly cluttered. Half-finished projects and knick knacks line the shelves, a discarded mug left on just about every surface. A daunting little pile of coats sits atop the chair at his writing desk. Clearly, he doesn’t pen many letters. I can’t help but laugh as I take a look around.

He regards me with a quizzical brow.

“I thought Jayce was the messy one,” I tease.

Color dusts his cheeks as he continues in, leaning down to set his keys on the table, haphazardly tidying what he could within reach. “He is,” he insisted, “in all fairness, I didn’t anticipate company tonight.”

I smirk, walking behind him, hands sliding around his waist as I press my mouth against his shoulder. His hands still, and his tense shoulders melt under my touch. His fingers intertwine through mine, and he peels them away, turning in my arms.

“So impatient,” he smirks, voice growing low and rough. I raise my eyebrow in a challenge he gladly takes.

The kiss he pulls me into is searing, bruising, as he ushers me backwards. He leads me blind through his apartment, my steps falter, stumbling, until the back of my knees hit something soft. A push, and I’m seated, his bedding a silken whisper against the palm of my hand. He’s out of breath already.

I reach up, tugging at the collar of his shirt; greedy hands fussing with the buttons, exposing more and more to my touch as his legs slot between mine. His hands traces along my thigh, knee nudging against my core and a white hot need curls in my stomach.

“So perfect,” he whispers against my skin, shifting his weight fully onto his knee. Another push, and I’m on my back. A vague clatter goes ignored as it rings through the room. My mouth parts.

He watches me, drinking in each hitch and gasp as his fingers trace up my bare thighs, pushing the hem of my dress up with the movement. His lips part. My heart skitters at the look in his eyes—focused, gentle.

His hand skates to my inner thigh. Tracing up, up, up; parting them with each inch. There’s a hitch, so soft, almost imperceptible, in his breath when he catches the first glimpse of the lace that lies beneath.

Dipping between, he presses his fingers against my still-clothed sex. I arch into his touch. More. He’s slack-jawed and sly, mouth quirking up as he watches his fingers slip beneath the side of my underwear.

“Gods,” he rasps, “you’re soaked.”

I keen. He’s going to be the death of me. I grind against his hand, shameless and desperate for friction. Any foolish hope of maintaining any demure air now cast to the wind as I reach forward, tugging at the button of his slacks, “off.”

He peels my hands away, pressing them down against the sheets; fingers twining through mine as he presses wet, hot kisses down my neck.

I gasp, “fuck.”

“Patience,” he chides.

He takes his time with me—languidly pushing my dress up as his own mouth works its way down. Dizzying. I can feel his smirk with every strangled noise I make. When the hem of my dress pushes past my ribs, he pauses, pressing a kiss to my shoulder, pulling me to sit up before peeling it up past my head.

“Lay down,” he says softly, gesturing towards the headboard.

I slide my underwear off, and quickly resist the urge to cover myself, feeling suddenly bare at his hungry eyes roaming my form as I scoot back. My head hits the pillow. His own tilts to the side as he pushes his shirt down his arms, shrugging it off. His lips quirk at the face I make—pinched brows, lips parted—while I watch him make short work of his pants. He’s lithe, lean, with an elegant cut of muscle. As I drink him in, I spot the metal brace lining his leg. I wasn’t even aware he wore one. He smiles, a little shyly; color dusting his cheeks. Still, he doesn’t shrink away.

“I wanted to do that,” I pout. Which is true. I’d undress him with my teeth if he let me.

He laughs, half-crawling onto the bed, “another time.”

He collapses onto his side beside me, bed doing a little shake before his fingers are curling around my knee to part my legs. His unbraced leg hitches forward, holding mine open as his nails rake up my inner thigh. It’s torture.

“Viktor,” I gasp, a warning.

He hums, craning forward to watch his own hand intently as it slides higher. So close. I turn to look at his face, and I’m struck by just how long his eyelashes are, kissing his cheek with contented blink. When his fingers hit the juncture of my thigh, I whimper. He relents, thank the gods, amber eyes lifting to mine while his fingers brush against my core.

“Good?” He asks. He knows the answer.

My hips buck against his hand, “yes, please.”

His eyes widen, blown-black as his fingers sink inside. I keen, writhing at the delicious curl. Well-practiced. My own fingers find his hair, searching for purchase as he dips down, lips pressing against my ear. I can feel the heat of his gaze, watching my hips stutter and grind against his palm.

“That’s it,” a ragged groan tears from his throat as he whispers into my ear, “so perfect.”

I cry out, that familiar heat building in my core as a litany of praises fall from his lips. So fast. Teeth scrape at the skin beneath my ear, fingers curling within me in time with the roll of my hips.

“Fuck,” he gasps.

My hips stutter with another whine, “Viktor, please.”

He hums, but is cut short as my hand snakes down to his underwear, palming him. “Gods,” he chokes.

My fingers wrap around him through the fabric, thick and weighty in my hand. I let out a strangled noise. Gods. I tug at the waistband, a quick yank and his cock springs free. Gorgeous. I’ve never found a cock gorgeous before. I trace up the underside with a light touch, wringing a sharp breath from him.

“Need you,” I swallow, throat suddenly dry.

Another groan, and he’s falling onto his back, bringing me with him, tugging me forward until I straddle him. My legs quivering, I prop myself up with my palms flat against his chest.

For a beat, we catch our breath.

He looks so soft, wavy hair splayed out on the pillow beneath, staring up at me like a man starved. It’s nearly overwhelming.

So I break the spell; my fingers wrap around him.

His hips buck up into my hands as I give an experimental stroke, pausing to press my thumb against his cock to collect an errant bead of cum. I bring my thumb to my lips, bringing another lovely curse from his lips. He’s salty-sweet and intoxicating. My eyes flutter closed, making a show of it and—

Was that a growl? How interesting.

He grabs my hips, fingers bruising as he pulls me down against him, cock grinding against my clit. I fall forward, hips stuttering with a cry. How on earth does he keep pulling the rug out from under me?

“All this for me,” he rasps, rocking my hips against him, “and I haven’t even fucked you.”

I mewl his name, reaching down with unsteady fingers to line him up with my entrance. He slides into me with a rough, insistent thrust that makes me gasp. I clench around him, the unfamiliar stretch of him sending a dizzying wave of pleasure through my core.

“That’s it,” he gasps, guiding my hips to roll against him. His eyes burn into mine, rapt. There’s a flush to his cheeks, dusted pink as he pants up at me, fingers making their way up the length of my body.

It’s by the nape of my neck that he pulls me down into another crushing kiss, each thrust up into me stoking the flame. He’s all tongues and teeth as I cry against his mouth. A hand snakes between us, thumb circling my clit. With each motion I feel an aching pulse. Intoxicating. I could get drunk off the feel of his cock hitting that spot—that perfect fucking spot—alone.

“You take me so well,” he gasps, breath catching, “so perfect, so needy.”

Each word sends fire through my veins. Thumb brushing against the base of my ear, he presses my forehead against his, our broken breaths mixing in the air between. He gulps as I clench around him, “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

“Don’t care,” I shake my head, thighs shaking as his thumb picks up the pace against me, “me neither, fuck, Viktor—“

“You going to come for me, hm?” He hisses, his own thrusts growing uneven.

I nod, a feeble little motion as I moan out. He chases the noise with his lips, pressing to mine, drinking in each little noise that slips out. Every rough thrust of his cock up into me bringing me closer to the edge, that heat building until I’m mewling, babbling against his lips—

“That’s it,” he groans, “good girl, just let go.”

My back arches as I cry, waves of pleasure coursing through me as I fall apart at his command. He’s close behind, a high-pitched strangled noise tearing from his throat as he fills me, hips jerking erratically. He chants my name, holding me against his chest as I slump forward.

“Gods,” I pant.

With a content hum his lips brush against my temple, hand tracing soothing shapes along my back. I cant my head towards him, pressing a kiss to his jaw as I slide off of him—eliciting one last hiss.

He turns to his side to face me, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. Though his eyes hold something else—keen and alert, looking into mine like equations were written on a blackboard within. My eyes widen.

Too bare.

I stretch, retreat; eyes sliding shut. A chaste kiss to his cheek and I’m slipping out of the bed with a quick, “be right back.”

When I return he’s half-awake, heavy lidded eyes and a lopsided smile as I tuck myself beneath the sheets. His arms slide around me, tugging close to his chest, enveloping me fully. I sink into the feeling; safe.

As the clutches of sleep find me, I hear him mumble, “I am.. glad you decided to stay.”

- - -

I’m the first to wake. Surprisingly.

The rising light peaks through the windows of his apartment, setting those brown locks aglow—a halo of orange and gold. His mouth was slack, lips softly parted. I leaned in, admiring the way his long lashes kissed his cheek. He sleeps like the dead, which is, honestly, rather unexpected.

Birdsong—a loud, twittering call—rings through the room, as if on cue. Time to get up.

I have that blasted meeting a 8. And the academy was a twenty minute walk away. And I needed a change of clothes. And a shower. Shit.

I really needed to leave.

I pressed a kiss to Viktor’s cheek, murmuring, “gotta get up.”

He groaned, eyelids heavy as they fluttered open. His mouth tucked into a pout as I slipped from his arms. He mumbled, “mh, leaving?”

I nod, rifling through his closet. “Meeting,” I explain, shrugging on one of his shirts.

He’s all limbs, taught and elongated, stretching out. He takes it a hair too far, apparently, as his face pinches into a brief wince. I frown, fingers faltering on the buttons. There’s another muffled groan as he shifts to his side, hand slipping beneath his pillow to stare back at me.

I fish a pair of pants from the closet, slipping them on.

“Little thief,” his teasing voice is rough, warm and gravely.

“You’ll get them back,” I laugh, “walking home in a gown at 7 am feels a bit indecent.”

He hums, “eh, a convenient excuse.”

“Careful, I may pilfer more on my way out,” I pad over towards the bed, leaning down to pull him into a kiss. Soft and slow and sweet. He hums as I retreat once more. “See you, Viktor.”

- - -

The board meeting turns out to be, as always, entirely unnecessary. Bloviation and repetition. I continuously find my mind floating back to Viktor’s apartment: to soft brown hair and fleeting touches and gentle lips. I float through the rest of the day this way; half-present, swept up in the whirlwind that inevitably comes after Progress day.

I manage to carve out a moment for myself to pen a message to Cassandra, taking it alongside the veritable mountain of pending correspondence that’s grown throughout the day. It’s only a quick jog to the pneumatic tubes, thankfully. I’m half-surprised he didn’t have one installed in his office. A suggestion for later, perhaps.

When I return, I’m surprised to find Viktor and Jayce loitering in the office. The events of last night come flooding back at the sight, a fire licks through my veins, curling in my stomach. Low, needy. My face heats as my eyes meet Viktor’s, judging by the tug at his lips his thoughts are the same.

“Afternoon,” Jayce smiles.

He seems… unexpectedly oblivious. Nonplussed, at the very least. I raise a brow to Viktor before I turn Jayce’s way, “good afternoon, Jayce. Meeting with the councilor?”

At his nod, I smile, pivoting on my heels. “One moment, I’ll see if he’s available.”

For his star mentees? Of course he is.

Heimerdinger insists I sit in on their discussion—on next steps, which was, apparently, loosely scheduled the night previous—to take meeting minutes. From the spare seat in the corner of the room, I keep my eyes glued to the page, doing my best to ignore the fleeting glances Viktor keeps casting my way.

“We anticipate, mh, twelve months to complete construction on the Hexgate,” Viktor says, coolly crossing his ankle over his knee as he shifts in his seat.

Hm, interesting.

Heimerdinger’s eyes practically bulge out of his head, exclaiming, “that’s quite an aggressive timeline!”

It really isn’t. Still, I hold my tongue; I’ve learned long ago that it’s better to nudge Heimerdinger in the right direction from the sidelines, rather than advocate in public.

There’s a pause as Viktor’s tired eyes meet Jayce’s, a wordless little exchange that seems to say ‘you deal with it.’

“We’ve worked on these plans for years,” Jayce leans forward, eyes bright and full of promise as he speaks, “you have my word, sir, that we will continue to take every precaution.”

Heimerdinger narrows his eyes before sliding them closed in an animated little nod. “Fine, fine. It’ll have to be discussed with the council, of course. But, you’ll have my vote.”

Viktor is quick to stand, reaching forward to shake his mentor’s hand, “your support is.. appreciated, sir.”

His smile is pleased, peaceful, as he turns towards the door. I go to follow him and Jayce out, steps halting as the councilor calls my name.

“A moment,” he says.

- - -

Cassandra Kiramman is quick to respond, and a date is set for one week later.

Cassandra Kiramman’s estate smelled of freshly-cut lilac mixed with sandalwood and vanilla. Buttery and altogether intoxicating. I bring the tea provided—white with honey and some secret, delectable third taste layered within—to my mouth, savoring each sip. I very much doubt I’ll taste something so fine for a long time.

Her office is bright, ornate. Filled to the absolute brim with flowers and plants of every kind. All quite rare. All exceedingly difficult to keep alive in Piltover’s climate. This room, however, is warm, hospitable, and teeming with life.

Cassandra Kirraman, however, is quite cold. Not unfeeling. But, proper. A woman of process and propriety. Currently, her shrewd eyes are on mine, watching me take in the room.

“You’ve a lovely home,” I say, and I’m sure my smile comes out more grimace-like than I intend.

“Thank you,” she says, “and thank you for sending your materials in advance of our meeting.”

“Of course, I assume you have questions?”

Jayce, who was kind enough to help prep me for the meeting, warned me that she would be more hands on with her patronage. In recent years, at least. I can’t imagine why.

She nods once, curt and to the point, “yes. My primary point of concern lies in your ‘runoffmitigation’plans.”

Ah. As anticipated.

She continues, “You don’t have any sites determined yet, and I don’t expect you’ll find the industrialists of the undercity to be jumping at the opportunity to collaborate.”

“Of course,” I cross my legs as I speak, “but the benefits are great enough that I’d be remiss if I didn’t try.”

She nods, thumbing through the packet of papers.

The arduous pause that follows has me shifting in my seat, leaning forward to add, “nailing down where is my next step.”

She hums, “and your estimate on this? Will you have this determination made soon?”

“That,” I squirm, “is difficult to say.”

She tilts her head, “In that case. let’s aim for 3 weeks.”

Final answer, then.

- - -

It’s an aggressive timeline.

Perhaps it’s time to have a conversation with my boss—one thats been haunting the back of my mind these few months. On my return from my meeting, I march directly into his office; I’m fairly sure any delay would dry up the remaining dregs of my courage after my morning.

I clear my throat, propping the door open, “sir, may I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course, my girl,” he straightens in his seat.

I reach down to pet his poro, who excitedly circles me, as I take my seat. I shift, throat suddenly dry—

“I’m fairly certain I can take an educated guess as to why you’re here,” he narrows his eyes.

I nod, a bit feebly. The words snag in my throat.

Charitably, he continues, eyeing me with his ever-shrewd gaze as he speaks, “time is about to become quite the premium for you.”

So he heard about my meeting, then. I swallow, “Yes, I expect so, sir.”

“Of course, it’s not lost on me that meeting minutes and correspondence are a waste of your talents—“

“Not at all, sir, I—“

He narrows his eyes at me, hushing me immediately. With a curt nod to himself, he continues, “I’m glad you came to me. I’ve been thinking it’d be prudent to adjust your role—let a student take over the mundane tasks for you to focus on your work. In exchange, however, I do have a request.”

I frown, tilting my head, “sir?”

“I’d like you to be a pair of extra eyes for me—primarily on any Hextech progress.”

Ah. I’ve had assignments like these as his assistant before, of course. I’ve never been a fan of them—hounding scientists to ensure they’re keeping to the ethos. Still, it’s a fair trade. I nod, “yes, of course sir.”

He fixes me with a neutral, if assessing, stare. I shift in place, finger carding through the edges of my notebook.

“Our boys have hit their fair share of snags,” he finally speaks, “I’m also aware you have grown quite close with Viktor, I expect you remain neutral.”

I nod, swallowing thickly. That was quite the emphasis. Did he mean that in a stay-away-from-my-star-pupil sort of way? Perhaps. Perhaps, I’m paranoid. Either way, I’m thrown. Something else scratches at the edge of my mind, and I ask, “Why, sir? Keep accommodating me, I mean.”

It’s a foolish question.

He blinks, mustache tucking into a frown as he considers my words. “It is the greatest importance, my girl, to focus on our future, to shape young innovators such as yourself.”

I’m not sure I enjoy the idea of being molded.

I chew on my lip, nodding. “Thank you, sir.”

- - -

The first two weeks pass far too quickly. I dive headfirst into my project, and visit the Hextech lab a few times. Okay, I’m fairly sure Heimer only meant for me to check in every so often. Call it an indulgence.

Viktor is keeping busy, as well. Relegating us to subsist on stolen glances and fleeting touches. The heat eats at me each time regardless, and I’m still a little unsure whether Heimer’s warning was purely about professionalism, or pursuit.

So, we’ve been careful.

It doesn’t stop the visits from being pure, blissful torture. It builds on it, really.

- - -

“Hello, boys,” I beam at the threshold of the Hextech lab.

Jayce’s greeting is warm, much warmer than Viktor’s—who opts for a soft ‘mmh’ with a wave of his hand, eyes glued to his notebook.

I scoff, teasing, “I’m doing fine, Viktor. Thanks for asking.”

His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“So, any interesting progress?” I turn to Jayce.

He readily walks me through their latest developments—planning, materials they’re sourcing, the few more tests left before construction kicks off. They’re moving fast.

“Why the hurry?” I tilt my head, finger tracing it’s way down the schematics laid out before me. Jayce has returned to his project, welding what appears to be two small metal sheets together.

He hooks a thumb in Viktor’s direction, “ask this one.”

“I would like to move forward,” Viktor pipes in with a sigh, “the Hexgates are just the surface of Hextech, and will likely only impact Piltover’s elite.”

I hum, he had a point. I step away from the table, crossing the room.

“The undercity will feel the effects too, V,” Jayce says.

“Eh, do we know that, Jayce?” Viktor stands, watching me as I approach his desk, “better to quickly satisfy our benefactors and move on to measurable, tangible impacts.”

His amber eyes shine, hopeful. Up close, however, I can see the purple kiss of dark circles blooming beneath his eyes. He’s been working too hard again.

Jayce hums in reply, not bothering to look up from the soldering iron in his hands, “I know, V.”

This was a regular conversation, then.

It’s quiet for a moment, Viktor silently watching the back of his partner’s head. I shift from foot to foot, drawing idle shapes against the desk top. The soldering iron kicks on.

Viktor’s eyes slide to mine, and my lungs stop. A careful step forward and he’s caged me between his arms, back against the table, breath hitching as he whispers against my hair, “you are incredibly distracting.”

His hips press against mine, driving the point home. My hands find his waist as I struggle to steel myself. I swallow, “I’m going back to the undercity soon.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of my jaw, voice low and amused. “Is that so? And do you require an escort?”

He seals his sentence with a nip at my skin.

“No,” I say, voice airy as I try to maintain an even reply, “I should be fine.”

Jayce clears his throat, “V.”

Viktor backs away, utterly nonplussed as he sits beside me on the table. I take the opportunity to step back, to put some distance between us.

Viktor looks at me, suddenly earnest as he speaks, “you’ve been going to the undercity a lot recently.”

I nod, blinking. I still have yet to find a suitable factory in the Undercity, each visit turning up fruitless. I murmur, “I’m on a tight deadline.”

Viktor stares at me for a moment, lips forming a thin line, “Careful.”

I shrug, giving him a lopsided smile, “of course.”

- - -

One such factory sits conveniently in the higher levels of the undercity, not-so-far from the very spot I ran into that odd man at. It’s partially why I’ve been avoiding it. The sigil lining the exterior of the building, however, was not the same. I’m still not sure if that is a boon, or not. The sense of unease twists in my gut.

I round the exterior of the factory, nose pinching. Smoke plumes up from one of the stacks towards the center, cloying and thickening the very air around me. There’s just enough space between the factory itself and the river, jagged rock and cobble smattering the land between. The ideal location for my work.

I cross around the back of the building, sticking towards the river. The closer to the other end, the more cumbersome the earth becomes: Manageable boulders turn to smaller, frail jagged shards. It’s a scramble. The factory itself is surprisingly quiet—windowless, devoid of most signs of life—save for the guard posted on the other side of the building. A silhouette in the distance, lax posture.

One wrong step. That’s all it takes to send me cursing as I tumble onto the sharp rocks below. A pain tears through my hands. Then, blood. I struggle to my knees with a hiss, investigating the source—broken slivers of shale embedded in my palms. I cry out as I peel the first away.

Swallowing, I manage to muffle the worst of it. My heart leaps into my throat. I risked a glance at the guard, paranoia singing through my blood. Had he heard me?

He shuffles on his feet, leaning against the wall.

I exhale, looking down to tug out another; this one deeper. I glance at the door to the factory, still closed. The guard still leaning there, unmoving. My nostrils flaring, I stand up on wobbly legs. I can deal with the rest later, when I get home. Was that a noise? No, I’m being paranoid. I stagger forward—

There’s a crunch of feet against stone behind me, and I whip around just in time—a glimpse of metal, a resounding crack, the tilt of the horizon.

Darkness.

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garlicbreadbatstarion · 10 months ago

Text

BG3 Companion Headcanons

🪩🥂🌹Going to a ball🌹🥂🪩

Wyll:

We all know Wyll is definitely the best dancer

And everyone would recognize him and want to chat and don't even get me started on the ladies absolutely swooning over him

But he'd be sure to show you off and focus in on you in such a way that you never doubted that he only has eyes for you

Give him a tune and he will make it happen: he can dance ballroom, waltz, tango, salsa, swing, and more!

It would also be super important to him to learn dances from your culture to show you how invested he is in you🥺

Will always have one last dance with you after you stumble home, just the two of you as he hums in the twilight of the kitchen

Lae'zel:

Would complain about having to dress in impractical clothes the whole time getting ready

Until she sees how stunning you are and, although she still says it is impractical, she would definitely tell you your elevated look is beyond satisfactory

Would probably hop into random conversations she finds interesting and scope out the whole event

Though she'd resist dancing in front of strangers, you'd catch her tapping her foot to the music

And on the walk back you could twirl her around (very briefly) and crack her tough exterior just enough to see her smile but she would deny any such thing if you ever tried to mention it again

Astarion:

Doesn't remember much about actually learning it anymore, but ballroom comes really easily to Astarion and it brings him a lot of joy to feel something his torment could not successfully erase

He also loves that dancing with you is an easy excuse not to talk to the high society crowds that often show up at events like this, and instead you can gossip together the whole night

"my dear we should get one of those for you!" And he'd wiggle his eyebrows and gesture to an over-the-top man in a bright green tailcoat, an 18" powdered wig covered with tiny Baldurian flags and ribbons atop his head. You'd slap his shoulder playfully and try to conceal your laughter

Even when you take a break from dancing, his hand is (respectfully) around your waist to protect and guide you through the crowd

Would 100% get drunk with you and sneak off into a non-party area of the venue to make out

Karlach:

A little too excited bc she lovesss parties of any variety

Does a frantic fashion show while you get ready, panicking about what go wear

She definitely does crazy moves in each outfit to test out it's danceability

Would turn into a dad the way she makes friends literally the whole time; it takes 10 minutes just to get inside because she can't stop chatting with the doorman

She asked Astarion to teach her to dance as soon as she found out you were going to this, that way she can successfully woo you on the dancefloor!

Gale:

He was very nervous to dance because he always skipped his school dances at the academy so he could explore forbidden places while the rest of the school was preoccupied

He definitely confides in Wyll on all this, and our lovely homeboy teaches him then and there how to lead💃

Gale can't stop the bi-panic when Wyll dips him almost down to the floor, with a cheeky wink

But now that you're here he's excited to listen in on the conversations of the many researchers and society members here!

He would get engrossed in conversation and you'd go dance with some friends that were there and it's like a romcom when he turns and sees you twirl across the floor🥲

He completely abandons his colleagues and appears out of nowhere, hand on your waist, waltzing you around

Wyll does a sly lil fist pump "yes, my man!" as he sees Gale spin you from across the floor

Shadowheart:

She lovesss getting ready and helping you get ready as well

Loves the tiny hors d'eouvres and smallglasses of wine and champagne they serve at events of this scale

It unlocks a core memory of her mother reading her fairytales as a girl, and she quickly wipes a small tear before it can fall

The quadrille is her favorite, she loves that it's social and friendly without having to hold a full conversation with a stranger

Would pepper your face with kisses on the way home thanking you for such a lovely time

Halsin:

He's not super used to the formal dance styles of the city, but he's ready to learn as he goes for you!

But he also flirts with the violinist and easily convinces him to play a little jig so he can show off

Also loves the food; I firmly feel Halsin would be a really adventurous eater and he'd be excited to try the variety of new spices and flavors they have at this event

Has 0 clue but the entire venue is ✨obsessed✨ with him

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 companions #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate astarion #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #shadowheart bg3 #laezel #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 karlach #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #halsin silverbough #astarion ancunin

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piss-pumpkin · 1 year ago

Text

Drunken confessions (kind of suck)

Leo valdez x reader, about 3.4K words, gn reader, tw- drinking/alcohol on part of the reader. Party time bitches.

Leo, like he was most days, was hunched over his desk in bunker nine. Tinkering with the new version of the demigod-safe cell phone, while the people he made it for were outside, probably training, laughing maybe. Hanging out without him. He sighed, pushing his chair back and running his hands through his hair, out of his face.

“Hey!”

Leo jumped, spinning around to face you, your voice cutting straight through the stagnant air and straight through him. How he didn’t hear you come in was a mystery. “Hey,” he said, confused smile on his lips. “What are you doing in here, you can’t be out of training yet, it’s still early.”

You hummed, coming up in front of him, and standing over him, arms crossed. “I’m not, I’m on a quick break,” you smiled, leaning down slightly closer to his face. “But Piper told me that you brushed her off earlier when she asked if you were coming to the party tonight.”

Leo winced. Right. The party. More than the regular Friday night affair in the Dionysus cabin, it was a big one. He wasn’t sure what they were celebrating, his best guess was a birthday, or a holiday he’d forgotten. “Yeah,” he said, sucking a breath in through the teeth of a pained smile. “I was gonna skip it.”

His smile faltered when he saw your face fall, and lips purse. You sighed, and hopped up to sit on his desk, to the side of his projects. “Why?” You whined, crossing your arms.

Leo turned around to face you, and tilted his head back and forth, side to side, and sighed. “Well, I got plenty to work on here,” he said lamely, gesturing at all the little parts sprawled out in front of him.

You huffed, not quite buying it, clearly. “Leo, you’ve been working non stop for like, days. You need a break,” you said, looking down at him sceptically.

He groaned. You weren’t wrong. When were you ever?“Parties aren’t really my thing,” he laughed, leaning his head back. “Believe it or not.”

You stifled a laugh, “Oh, I do believe it.”

He smirked, sitting up a moment. “What, you don’t think I can dance or something? I didn’t expect you to agree with me so fast, Y/n,” he teased, pointing up at you accusingly, “I’m hurt.”

You threw your hands up in surrender, “Hey, I call it like I see it,” you laughed. “But let it be known, I do think you could tear up a club, I think you could have moves.”

Leos eyes softened as he smiled. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, you flatter me,” he said, resting his head on his palm. He couldn’t help smile up at you dumbly. His workshop was never particularly bright, even with all the lights on. The lack of windows always kept it relatively dim, much to Leo’s distain. But you managed to sit in just the right spot, so that the light hit your face perfectly.

You smiled, and playfully flicked him on the forehead, and as usual he pretended to be annoyed. “Leo, it’ll be fun, a good way to get out of the bunker,” you raised your arms, gesturing around, eyes following your hands. “Dude, the air in here can’t be good for you. I feel like I’m getting asthma just breathing, there’s dust and metal crumbs everywhere.”

Leo grimaced. Once again, you weren’t wrong. He glanced around, and even on his desk there were leftover piles of metal shaving from past projects. And a few small puddles of probably oil from god knows what. Probably shouldn’t have that so close to the phones.

And you weren’t done. “And besides, it can’t be that bad if I’m there with you,” you said, smiling down at him. Leo could practically feel himself folding, despite everything. He sighed as you continued. “How about this,” you said, determined glint in your eyes. “I won’t leave your side, the whole night, okay?”

Yep. He was a goner. You held out your pinkie to him, promising that your words rung true. He sighed, giving in completely as he clasped fingers with you, and shook on it. “Alright, fine,” he relented. “When is it?”

You grinned, playfully hitting him in the shoulder. “That’s the spirit,” you said. “And besides, if it sucks, we can just ditch it and hangout… in the woods or something,” you shrugged. “It officially starts at like, eight, so we can get there like, nine maybe.”

He couldn’t help but smile, idly fidgeting with a few spare gears his hands seemed to find on their own. “Alright, you’ve convinced me,” he said. Not a lie. As much as he dreaded a big crowd when he wasn’t in the mood for it, you could probably make any night fun. But there was one downside to that. He decided not to think about it. Get there when he gets there.

You smiled, watching him tinker. “Okay, I’ll come by here later, before we go, yeah?”

”Yeah,” Leo nodded.

You hopped off the desk, and it suddenly felt much too big, far too spacious without you there. Like you were the key to make it seem right. You gently hit him in the shoulder on your way out. “Kay, I’ll be here then. In the meantime I got Pegasus duty,” you said, starting for the door.

He waved you out, and turned back to his desk when you shut the thick metal door behind you. His plan had been derailed, and he struggled to remember exactly what he was doing before. His eyes landed on a few small pieces, and remembers what part of the phone he was building. Right. Focusing.

…

Somehow, seemingly in a blink, you were back, and Leo couldn’t believe it had been five hours. Yeah, you might have a point about him losing track of time stuck in that bunker. Reluctantly, he let you drag him away from his work desk, folding as soon as you took his hand.

Leo cheered as you linked arms with one of the Stolls to down a shot with him, and laughed as you dragged him over to dance. And you kept your promise, he was dragged along through every misadventure you wanted to go on. Like always, he supposed.

And like always, you went a little hard. Harder than you should have, probably. And Leo didn’t particularly like to drink, so he was right there to help you when you were stumbling, and take you through the woods back to the bunker to crash on his couch.

You stumbled, but not only did Leo have fast reflexes, he was waiting, watching you carefully. He caught you, sighing as he threw your arm over his shoulders. “Come on,” he groaned, taking your weight.

”Thank you,” you chirped, leaning your head happily on his shoulder. “That was very nice of you.”

Leo grimaced, and looked at the ground away from you. Maybe if he did he’d have a better shot of maneuvering the two of you away from the rocks and twigs that could trip you.

“Leoooo,” you said, lightly shoving him.

His face fell, he couldn’t help it. He knew what was coming the moment you took your first drink.

“You’re pretty,” you smiled, nudging him with your elbow.

“Thanks,” Leo said flatly, keeping his eyes forward as he made his way to the bunker. His feet moved left, right, up and over the pebbles and the ferns, trying to get you there safe. He spared you one glance though, as much as he didn’t want to.

Yep. Bad move. You were smiling at him lovingly, the moonlight reflecting off your eyes. The sun had to be rising soon, right? Leo sighed, losing his stoic conviction. “You too,” he chuckled.

You grinned, letting out a quiet, “Yippee,” and what could Leo do. Nothing. But you weren’t done, never were. “I’m glad we’re best friends,” you said, entirely too sentimental when drunk.

“Me too,” he replied simply, arriving to the bunker. He fiddled with the door code, and then kicked it open so he could keep you up. He led you to the couch,“Alright, down you go,” he snickered, dropping you.

You sat down, and leaned back, dissolving into the cushions. “Don’t go back to work,” you said quietly, leaning your head to one side. Leo hadn’t even realized he was walking to his desk.

Leo smiled, turning around to face you. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” He scrounged around on the table until he found a few pieces of scrap metal, and then came back to sit on the opposite side of the couch.

“I think you work too much,” you huffed, leaning your back in the armrest.

Leo shrugged, “somebody has to make the demigod phones, and repair the swords.”

”It doesn’t have to be you.”

Leo leaned against the cushions, heaving a small sigh. When were you ever wrong? He curled his legs up in front of him as he nestled his face against the fabric. “You have a point,” he surrendered.

“That’s me,” you agreed, folding your arms. “Full of points.”

Leo chuckled, and a brief silence fell over the room. You were starting to close your eyes, and slump further into the couch, and he felt himself doing the same. With a sigh, he stood up, fighting through the tiredness in his bones, to get the light. When he came back, he leaned over the back to see you, his eyes adjusting to the dark. “I take it you want the couch?” He asked, brow raised.

You shifted a bit, half asleep already. “I can have half,” you said, pointing to the empty side. “Other sides for you, I don’t mind.”

He pursed his lips. Careful territory. “Okay,” he said, hopping the back of the sofa. He did his best to tuck his legs up, as to not encroach on your space. Your head seemed to be buried in the pillows, he smiled as he watched you sleepily maneuver your way out to breathe, and find a comfortable position. It appeared he was safe this time. He could relax.

”Leo, sometimes I think we should date.”

Or not. His eyes flew open to look at you, but you’d melted into the silhouette of the sofa. He sighed, cracking his back against the armrest. “You know, I don’t disagree with you, Y/n,” he said, hands rubbing the circled under his eyes.

He heard a faint gasp, “Really?”

He winced at how happy you sounded. You always did. “I’d honestly love to,” he relented, not bothering trying to look at you. “I’ve had a crush on you forever.”

Another gasp, and you were sitting up now, he could feel the cushions move beneath him. “You mean it?” You asked innocently, voice cutting straight through him.

He groaned, and sat up and opened his eyes. Your fake silhouette was much closer now, sitting on your knees. Maybe too close for comfort. Or not close enough. “I do.”

”Then we should date,” you asserted confidently.

This was the part he dreaded the most. “Remind me tomorrow, then, and we can,” he said. Same as always. He silently scolded himself for indulging in this conversation. Or maybe for volunteering his bunker for you to stay.

He couldn’t see well in the dark, but your frown was clear as day. “But I might forget,” you pouted, scooting closer.

He sighed. Suppose there was no avoiding it. “Then I guess we won’t date,” he shrugged casually, a hint of malice creeping into his voice. He avoided your eyes that shone through the shadow, and the full familiar ache in his chest.

“How about you just remind me,” you suggested, raising your finger in the air with certainty like you’ve thought up an amazing plan.

Leo flinched. “No,” he snapped, sounding more mean then he meant. His face fell as you shrunk away, clearly confused and hurt. He sighed, cradling his face in his hands and letting out a far softer, “No.”

”W-why not?” You asked, recoiling into the cushions.

He couldn’t help shoot you a pained look, and sigh once again. What was the harm in telling? Chances are you wouldn’t remember anyway. “Because you only like me when you’re drunk, Y/n,” he conceded. “I swear, almost every time you drink you get like this.”

You stayed silent a moment, and blinked a few times. “I-“ you started, reaching a hand up towards him, but quickly restricting it. “That’s…” you couldn’t seem to find the words, needing another pause. “I liked you earlier, too… and yesterday.”

”Then why can you only say it now?” He spat, resting the back of his head on the armrest.

He could see the cogs of your brain turning, as your hand gripped the couch with force. “It’s hard, Leo,” you said rather pathetically. “You know that!”

Leo actually had it in him to laugh at you now. As if. “Yeah, sure,” he snickered. “You’d have trouble confessing to me,” he said, rolling his eyes. “That’s too hard to believe, I think my hypothesis seemed more likely.”

You scoffed, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” you announced, punctuations yourself by standing assertively and pointing at him. It was seconds later that you started to wobble, your silhouette moving.

Leo groaned, getting up to catch you again, taking your arm to steady your balance. “Y/n, you’re miles out of my league, it’d be the easiest thing in the world for somebody like you to ask out somebody like me,” he said, trying to get you to sit down.

But you had some fight in you. Suppose that was typical, Leo thought. You pushed off him to point even harder, your finger getting alarmingly close to his face. “Don’t be mean to yourself!” You commanded, incredibly confident.

He tried to suppress a smile, but couldn’t. The corners of his lips tugged up as he sighed, clenching his jaw. “Okay, fine,” he said, gently moving your hand away from his head. “But my point still stands, I think your standards just get lower when you’re like this.”

You finally let him take your arms, and sit you down. “I think I have pretty high standards.”

He couldn’t help shake his head as he smiled, “yeah, sure.” When you were down on the couch, he threw the pillow from his side to you. You didn’t catch it, hit you square in the face. After you shot him a look, you shoved it behind you to lean on, finally lying down on your side. Leo could make do without the extra cushion if it meant you’d finally give up.

”Leo, I think you should be nicer to yourself,” you said quietly.

Leo banged his head against the couch, lamenting that this conversation was still happening. He shook his head. “You might be right,” he said. “But just-“ he looked up at the ceiling, making out the vents and fans and pipes that lines it. “I can’t believe that you like me until you tell me when your sober.”

”I always mean too.”

He pursed his lips. As hard as he tried to stay casual, brush you off, he was losing. Hurting, even. Like every word you said was a weight on his heart. “Maybe I’ll ask you tomorrow then,” he sighed. “Then we can see for sure.”

You exhaled, like a sigh of relief, and seemed to melt. “That’s good,” you said.

He waited for more words, but they never came. You were finally out. He smiled slightly, burying his face into his hands. He’d survived, at least, the onslaught of your affections. Low chance you’d remember any of this tomorrow, he wasn’t held to his word. But he might keep it anyway, and ask you about this. The first time you drunkenly confessed, he brushed it off. The second time, recoiled in fear, and since had written it off as you getting a little silly. You’d probably laugh when he told you, and you could both make a joke of it until next time.

…

You were lucky the bunker was dim, because your head throbbed with every movement and shine of light that caught your eye. You groaned, doing your best to sit up. ‘Twas an arduous task indeed.

“You’re up?” Leo asked happily, sitting cross legged at his work desk.

You shoulder your eyes from the light, and looked over at him. “Dude,” you managed. “What time is it?”

Leo tapped a phone on his desk, and told you it was around one. Phone? You stood up, maybe too fast, because your head pounded harder, and you stumbled slightly. Ugh. The room was spinning in the entirely wrong direction. Or maybe any direction was bad, and rooms shouldn’t spin at all.

in a blink Leo was there, one arm out to catch you if you fell. “You alright?” He asked.

You nodded, talking seemed too hard in that moment. Smiling, you grabbed the hand he had outstretch to pull yourself up to stand straight, and started to his desk. “You finished the phone?” You asked, squinting down at it. It looked pretty done, but you had to ask. Just to be sure.

He came up beside you, tapping it again to show you the lockscreen. It was a photo from last night, Piper was on your shoulders trying chicken fight a tall cyclops. You cringed, sucking a breath in through your teeth. Unfortunately you remembered that one.

Leo snickered. “It’s basically done,” he said, picking it up, “First one can be yours.” He flipped it in his palm so it was facing you, and your jaw fell open slightly.

”For real?” You asked skeptically, taking it. The blue light was a little bright, you’d have to turn that down. “I think the first should be yours, you made them.”

”Yeah, but I did it mostly for you and the others,” he shrugged.

You pursed your lips, suppressing a smile. “Fine,” you conceded. He was entirely too sweet, wasn’t he? “But, you said, pointing at him. “Your number has to be the first one I add, alright,” you counter, brow raised.

He rolled his eyes, but you saw the smirk building on his lips. “Sure, fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. He went back to his desk to retrieve another, and started tapping at it, and eventually came to you with a number, which you happily added.

When the headache dulled, and you felt like facing the world, you and Leo decided to go to the dining pavilion. It wasn’t exactly a meal time, but the gods and camp magic should make an exception for you, Dionysus would probably approve of the night you had, anyway. When you grabbed a plate, there was food. Small victories.

“Oh my Gods, you were saying some shit last night,” Leo laughed, sliding into the seat next to you, “At one point you said you could beat Percy at surfing.”

You cringed. “Please tell me he won’t remember that,” you said, picking at toast with your head in your hands. “If he takes me up on that challenge I’m fucked.”

Leo laughed, shaking his head, “Doubt it.”

You smiled, and took a bite of breakfast. Definitely best not to remind Percy about that.

Then Leo pursed his lips a moment, staring intently at you while you ate. Your eyes narrowed and chewing slowed as you met his gaze. Before you could ask, he shook it off, physically even, shaking his head as he looked back at his phone on the table. “Yeah, you were on a roll last night,” he laughed. He started counting on fingers each silly thing you’d done. “There was the Percy thing, you tried to get matching tattoos with Piper,” he said, on the second finger. “You kept trying to go on the roof,” he snickered, and then paused, presumably to think. “Oh, and you tried to ask me out,” he laughed, putting up a fourth finger.

You practically choked, feeling your face get hot, probably blushing like mad if you had to guess. You glanced over at him, and his little lopsided grin, “I what?”

Part 2

Guys Leo is literally my husband. Idk what to tell you. Anyway I just think the idea of somebody constantly confessing while drunk and forgetting is is adorable.

#x reader #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #pjo #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n #my writing

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lynzishell · 10 months ago

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The Past 💛 Atlas

After handing our shoes over to the teenager at the counter and replacing them with the generic and ill-fitting bowling shoes, trying not to think too hard about how many random strangers have worn them before us, we make our way over to where Ash and Lex have already reserved a lane, bickering about how to enter our names into the machine.

Just as we’re sitting down, Lex leans over and bites Ash on the arm. “Ow!” He pulls away from her and rubs at the spot where she sank her teeth in, “Competition makes you so mean.”

“You being a dick makes me mean. Now delete it and walk away.”

I look up just in time to see the U and S disappear from the end of her name and chuckle under my breath. Even I know better than to use her full name under any circumstances lest I lose a limb.

Laughing, Ash hops out of the seat and walks over to us, lifting his sleeve to reveal teeth marks. “Can you believe this?”

“Yeah,” I say, “what did you think was going to happen?”

“I didn’t think she’d bite me,” he pulls his sleeve back down and turns to Dawn with a cheerful smile and says, “Hello,” giving her the opportunity she’s been itching for since I first told her about him.

“Hi! I’m Dawn.”

“Ahh, the twin! I’m Asher. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.” She looks over to give me the “he’s cute” look which I do my best to ignore.

Ash plops onto the seat next to her and leans in to speak quietly, “So, this is probably an annoying question, but do you guys have any secret twin powers?”

“Of course,” she replies and then looks around to ensure no one is eavesdropping, “Telepathy. We can read each other’s minds.”

“Fascinating. What’s he thinking now?”

She looks over at me and squints her eyes. I’m suddenly worried about what she might say to him. As far as she knows, Ash is just a friend from work that I have a crush on and maybe had some weird dreams about. I give her a slight shake of my head and mouth the word, “Don’t.”

She turns back to Ash and says, “He wants me to keep my mouth shut. He’s afraid I’m going to say something to embarrass him.”

“Are you?”

“Probably.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun. I like you. Do you want to team up?”

“Absolutely.”

Fantastic.

I deflate a little at being teamed up with Lex. Don’t get me wrong, I love Lex, but I think a part of me just assumed I’d be with Ash. Seems like a silly assumption now that I think about it, but I’m disappointed, nonetheless.

As Lex takes her turn, Ash and Dawn continue to chat about me as if I’m not sitting right next to them, making me feel more anxious and awkward by the second.

“So, Atlas tells me you’re an artist.”

He glances at me, then back at Dawn with a sly smile, “He can’t stop talking about me, can he?”

“Not for a second. He’s obsessed.” She’s all too happy to play along, probably assuming Ash is fishing for confirmation that I like him or something. She has a tendency to meddle, always thinking I need help when it comes to dating when in reality, I just move at a different pace than she does.

“It’s sad really,” he tells her, “He needs to move on.” He gets up to take his turn as Lex cheers and skips over to me. I look up to see that she got a spare and am about to congratulate her when Ash looks at me and mutters, “We’re just friends, after all,” before he turns to walk away.

My smile falters as the sting of his words rushes through me. I clamp my jaw down, grinding my teeth and feeling foolish. How did I think for one second that changing our environment would somehow ease the tension between us?

I watch as he steps up to the lane, holding the ball in front of him with intense focus before stepping forward and tossing it toward the pins with perfect form, because of course he does. It spins down the lane with such force and precision that every one of the pins crashes down on impact, earning him a strike. He turns to us with bow as Dawn cheers and Lex yells out, “Fuck!”

I had no doubt I’d be the worst bowler out of all of us, but I didn’t expect everyone else to actually be good. I start to feel self-conscious about going up and taking my turn.

I suddenly see the whole night play out in front of me: the tension and passive-aggressive comments from Ash reminding me what an asshole I am, Lex getting frustrated at my lack of skill and being the reason we lose the game, and Dawn being so charmed by Ash that she’s completely oblivious to my misery while she tells him how he gives me butterflies and invades my dreams, only making the tension between us worse, and I wish we’d never come here at all.

“Don’t worry,” Lex pats my knee, “he got lucky. You got this.”

No, I don’t. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. But I don’t want to be dramatic about it by storming off. I have no choice but to suck it up and get through the night, so I might as well attempt to have fun.

I take a breath and stand to take my turn, picking up the ball and trying my best to focus on the weight of it in my hand to keep my increasingly dark thoughts at bay.

I step forward and toss the ball down the lane sloppily, surprised that it doesn’t slide immediately into the gutter. Instead, it skims the edge and takes out a single pin on the far corner before disappearing.

Normally, I’d make a joke about it, getting overly excited about my one pin, but I can’t bring myself to do that now. It would feel stupid and awkward and forced. I just want to slump back down in my seat and disappear into the background, but I can’t. I have to stand here in front of all of them, waiting for my ball to return so I can throw it one more time, hoping it goes slightly better than the last.

Lex calls me over and I apologize immediately, “I told you I was a terrible bowler.”

She shakes her head, “Nonsense. We will not lose this game, understand?”

“I don’t—”

“Just listen. The problem is, you’re too stiff. You just need to loosen up a little, relax your grip, and make sure not to swing your arm in front of you. You’ve gotta keep it straight.”

“Lex, I don’t think I’ve ever done anything straight in my whole life.”

She snickers and swats at me playfully, “Alright then, at least angle your body a little to compensate.”

“I’ll give it a try.” Her cheeriness and optimism make me feel a little better. I still don’t know why she’s being nice to me after what I did, but I’m grateful for it. I’m realizing that she’s become one of my closest friends over the last few years, and it would be devastating to lose her.

I toss the ball with more intention this time, keeping Lex’s advice in mind. At first, it looks like a nice roll, but in the end, it lands in the gutter, taking the last shred of my self-confidence with it, and leaving my remaining nine pins standing. At least now I can go sit down.

Dawn gives me a smile as she walks by me to take her turn, “You just need to warm up a bit, that’s all.” Right. That’s what I need.

I sink into my seat, staring at my hands when I see Ash out of the corner of my eye scooting closer to me. “I hate when that happens,” he says, “Heading right down the lane, you think you know exactly where it’s going and then, boom, takes a turn and lands in the gutter. Hurts, doesn’t it?’

I look over at him, at his eyes, uninviting and devoid of their usual brightness, and I wonder if this is how things are going to be between us now; I wonder if keeping our friendship intact was as foolish an idea as coming out here tonight. All I can muster is a quiet, “Yeah.” Then, I stand and turn to Lex, telling her, “I’m going to get some air,” and I escape to the nearest exit.

Prev // Next

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt4 #past #atlas stephens #asher goode #dawn stephens #lex mcphee

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e-on-edge · 3 months ago

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Waterworks 2

Waterworks 1

Waterworks 3

(I got nervous about the other cover getting this taken down, but it’s still below)

18 + MDNI Sexual themes and language

Synopsis refresher: Zayne just got back from a swim in the hotel pool and hopped into the shower with Caleb. In a moment of vulnerability Zayne confessed how much he missed the way they used to be.

Caleb's answer was a kiss that left Zayne breathless, one hand sliding up his back while the other sank lower, grabbing a handful of his ass with a possessiveness that left no doubt about his intentions.

As the warm water cascaded down their bodies, Caleb's kiss deepened, his tongue tangling with Zayne's in a dance that was both familiar and exhilarating. Zayne's hands instinctively wrapped around Caleb's waist, pulling him closer as their chests pressed together, the friction lathering bubbles between them.

The possessive grip on his ass tightened, and Zayne felt a shiver run up his spine as Caleb's fingers teased the crease, sending a jolt of anticipation through his entire body.

Their lips parted for a moment, and Caleb's eyes locked onto Zayne's, the hunger in his gaze making Zayne’s heart skip a beat.

"I've missed you too," Caleb whispered, his voice husky with desire, before claiming Zayne's lips once more.

The shower stall became a steamy cocoon, the outside world melting away as they lost themselves in the haze. Zayne's hands began to roam, tracing the muscles of Caleb's chest, his fingers lingering on the ridges of his abs before dipping lower, wrapping around the base of his erection. Caleb groaned, his hips thrusting forward.

In a sudden decisive movement, his hands grasped Zayne's hips, spinning him around to face the shower wall. Zayne's palms slapped against the tile, his body tensing in anticipation as Caleb's chest pressed against his back. The warm water blanketed them, but it was Caleb's body heat that truly seared Zayne's skin.

“Am I in trouble officer?” Zayne joked through a smirk.

Caleb growled in reply, his teeth sank into Zayne's shoulder, the bite exploding in little shockwaves under his skin. Zayne's eyes dropped, his jaw clenched, as he felt Caleb's erection press against his entrance. There was no hesitation, no gentle probing – just a swift, confident thrust that sent Caleb's cock deep into Zayne's body.

Zayne's breath caught, his back arching into the invasion, but he remained silent, his pleasure locked behind a mask of reserve. Caleb, on the other hand, was a different story. His moans echoed off the shower walls, his hips pistoning forward with a frenzied energy.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Caleb groaned, his hands grasping Zayne's hips, holding him in place as he pounded into him. Zayne's fingers curled into fists, his nails scraping against the tile as he rode out the waves of pleasure with strained composure. “Don't be shy baby, let me here you.”

Caleb's cock was a hot, pulsing mess inside him, filling him up and making him ache with need. Zayne's body betrayed him, his muscles clenching around Caleb's cock, drawing him deeper. A soft moan escaped him despite how he tried to bite it back.

Caleb's laughter was a low, husky sound as he reveled in Zayne's response.

Their bodies moved in a dance of dominance and submission, Caleb's boisterous energy drawing Zayne out of his more reserved side. The mask began to slip, his gasps growing louder, his body trembling with each thrust.

“Christ,” he groaned, leaning harder on the shower wall for support.

The pilot was a force of nature, unstoppable and unrelenting, Zayne couldn’t resist even if he’d wanted to. He felt himself getting lost in the sensation, his body surrendering to all of Caleb's demands. The young man’s chest was a solid wall of muscle against Zayne's back, his heartbeat pounding out a rhythm that Zayne's stuttered gasps echoed in time.

As Caleb fucked him, Zayne felt his cock growing harder, his balls aching with the need to cum. He was trapped between the tile wall and Caleb's body, unable to move or escape, and it was exactly where he wanted to be.

Caleb's teeth grazed Zayne's ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Let go," he growled, pistoning forward with renewed energy. The words were all it took – Zayne's body tensed, his orgasm ripping through him like a wave.

He felt himself cumming, his cock pulsing with each spasm, his body trembling with the force of it. Caleb's laughter echoed off the walls, his own body tensing as he followed close behind. His cock filled Zayne's body with a hot, pulsing rush of cum.

The shower stall was silent for a moment, the only sound was the water pouring down, and the ragged gasps of their breathing. Then Caleb's arms wrapped around Zayne, pulling him close and holding him tight.

Zayne, still panting, leaned into Caleb's embrace, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart. He could feel the strength in Caleb's arms as they held him close, a comforting sensation he could relish for eternity. He turned. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they just looked at each other tenderly.

Without a word Zayne smirked, spinning Caleb around and throwing him against the opposite wall. Caleb let out a surprised laugh, but didn't resist.

Zayne took control, his hands firm and sure as he groped Caleb's body. He could feel the muscles tense and relax under his touch, and could hear the sharp intake of breath when he touched a sensitive spot. After exploring contentedly, Zayne entered Caleb with a slow, precise thrust.

Caleb let out a groan of pleasure, his body arching as he met Zayne's plunge. “Fuck me, doctor.” he joked, grunting loud as Zayne punished him with a forceful pounding.

They moved together, their bodies slick with water and sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The rhythm became a symphony of movement and touch. Zayne's hands were everywhere, guiding, gripping, exploring. His lips were on Caleb's neck, his chest, his lips, each kiss a promise, each bite a claim.

Caleb was lost in the sensation, his body responding to every touch, his mind tangled in pleasure. He could feel the tension building, the coil of desire tightening, tightening... then, with a final, shared cry of pleasure, they climaxed together, their bodies trembling with the force of their release. They held each other close, their hearts pounding in their chests, their breaths mingling in the steam-filled air.

Zayne nuzzled Caleb’s neck, giving him a tender kiss goodbye before he removed himself with the utmost care. Entwined in another kiss, both men jumped when a knock sounded on the door.

#love and deepspace #lads #lads caleb #caleb love and deepspace #l&ds caleb #love and deepspace caleb #l&ds #l&ds smut #lads smut #caleb smut #zayne smut #smut writing #smutty smut smut #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #zayne x caleb #snowapple

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selfindulgentpoorlywritten · 4 months ago

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Alive (Matthew Tkachuk Imagine)

My fic for @thewintersoldierdisaster for the Winter Fic Exchange by @wyattjohnston !

Okay so first of all, I'm so sorry that this is late! Between getting called into work, my computer deciding to act up, and having pneumonia, I got a little behind schedule. It's also a shorter fic- I hope that's okay! Fic is inspired by the song If Only for Tonight by Vacation Manor.

Rating: G

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk/Reader

Words: 1835

Warnings: none

Summary: Sometimes the world feels a little too small. Sometimes you don't feel real. Matthew helps.

The stars are bright above, and the road is empty for miles ahead.

It’s an occasional occurrence, going on a special drive with Matthew. You know that this kind makes him a bit nervous. So you only ask for it when the restlessness really settles in. When you start to itch down to your bones, when your skin feels too small for your body, when this city feels too small for your life. Your legs feel tight with the urge to run, your hands yearning to grab the wheel and drive far away. To go to a new place, somewhere no one knows you or expects anything from you or asks when you’re going to settle down. You don’t want to settle, you want to run, to feel your heart pound and leap into your throat with adrenaline. You want excitement, want the rush, want to feel something again– to feel alive for once.

It all feels fake sometimes. The city a cardboard cutout, the people passing by all extras on a film set. Your job just a way to pass the time between now and death.

Being with Mattthew helps. His presence makes things seem more solid; the touch of your hands making your heart skip a beat, even after all this time. You know that it’s not the same for him, that you’re just a friend to him, that hugging you doesn’t feel the same for him– like you can feel again, like you’re being brought back to life from a year of living in a painfully boring dream.

But when you call, he answers. He hops in his car, picks you up with a smile that’s both sly and soft. Like he knows how you feel, like he’s intimately familiar with the need to go, now, and he feels bad that it’s come back. The look tonight like– like he’s feeling it too. Like he needs this as much as you do.

He’d been nervous about it at first. He was convinced that he would mess up, would spin out and hurt you, or crash and kill you both. You’d gone back and forth about it, until you’d looked at him with a steady gaze and your chin raised high.

“You trust me, right?” you’d asked, waiting for his affirmative response before continuing, “And I trust you, and have full confidence in your abilities. So if you can’t trust yourself, you can trust me.”

“Believe in yourself by proxy,” you’d finished with a smile. His eyes had widened for a second as you spoke, then scrunching up with his smile as he lightly shook his head.

“Okay,” he finally agreed, the gap between his front teeth showing as he grinned at you, “Okay.” you don’t add the second part that echoes in your head. The part that says even if we crash and die, I’ll die doing what I love most: holding your hand.

That part is best kept in your mind.

He’d given in and tucked you into the car, playfully smiling at you as he pulled on your seatbelt and let it snap back against your chest. Gotta make sure that you’re safe, he’d said. You’d just beamed back at him, snapping his seatbelt in return, making him laugh. Precious cargo, you’d quipped, taking his right hand in your left as you took off at a reasonable speed, making your way to the quiet country roads outside of the city.

You’ve gone on a few of these drives since then, the pressure in your chest getting so heavy that you worry your ribcage might collapse every few months. Matthew is always there, bundling you into the car and testing the seatbelt. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you, he says, I’ll always keep you safe. You believe him. The only time you’ve ever felt safe in your life has been when you’re by his side.

The city lights have faded away, revealing a sea of stars painted across the inky black sky. Matthew squeezes your hand once and it’s all the warning you get. The car jumps forward, jerking you back in your seat. Zero to sixty in half a breath, the car manufacturer should advertise. Your heart rate skyrockets as your head is pressed into the upholstered rest behind it. The warm air turns cool as it rushes in through the lowered windows, rushing across your face and whipping up your loose t-shirt. You clutch the handhold above the window, letting out a pure, elated scream as you come back to your body. You laugh, loud and wild and free as your ecstatic mind repeats– I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.

The road is winding, throwing you back and forth in your seat as Matthew expertly weaves around corners. He blows through a dilapidated stop sign, the tires screeching as he takes a hard right. He slams the gas again as he comes out of the turn and you laugh, hysterically happy.

Matthew is smiling too, bright and endearing, laughing loudly even as his eyes are sharply focused on the road. His laugh is the best thing you’ve ever heard, better than any song in history. You could die happy, you think, as long as you got to be the one who made him laugh for a little while.

He’d dropped your hand as he approached the intersection, needing both hands to turn the wheel so sharply. Your hand had fallen to his thigh, gripping his quad tightly, holding on for dear life and for once, allowing yourself to enjoy the feel of the unyielding muscle under your fingers, the warmth of his skin against yourself where two of your fingers have landed below the hem of his shorts. Usually you don’t let yourself think about it too much when you touch, not willing to face the way it makes you want. Want his skin on yours, his hands and lips pressed onto every inch of your body. Want him wrapped around you so tightly that you meld together, become one being, kept in stasis by love. Want to crawl inside his chest and curl up around his heart. Is there a place for you there?

You try not to think about it.

There’s a field to the left up ahead, acres of dirt and tall grass, and you know what’s about to happen. Knowing doesn’t stop you from jumping as Matthew jerks the wheel, careening off the road into the empty space, zooming out toward the middle of the field. The car rattles as it runs over rocks and dips in the ground, shaking the anxiety out of your body. Matthew throws the wheel in the opposite direction, the car losing grip and spinning wildly. Nothing could stop the laugh that bursts out of you as the centrifugal force pushes you over into Matthew’s space, your seatbelt locking up just in time to keep you from crashing into his side.

You spin once, twice, three times before Matthew turns the wheel again and you skid to a stop. You slump back in your seat once the car settles, letting your head fall all the way back to rest on the shoulder of the backrest. Your heart is pumping so hard it almost hurts, your heartbeat evident down to your fingers and toes. Breathy chuckles escape you as the vibrating under your skin fades, the need to run evaporating with the adrenaline.

After long moments, you turn your head to look at Matthew, finding his eyes already on you. His lips are stretched around a fond smile, his eyes so bright and soft in the low light of the full moon. Your traitorous heart jumps at the look he’s giving you. Hazy yet somehow sharp, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you in this moment, trying to burn your relieved smile into his irises. He’s looking at you like– like he feels the same as you. Like he loves you.

“The stars are beautiful out here,” you say, knowing you haven’t looked up since meeting his gaze. His smile turns soft. He doesn’t look away from you.

“Yeah,” he says, low and quiet, “Beautiful.” You can feel the heat in your cheeks, down your neck. You look away, unable to bear the sight of him for another second. The stars are actually beautiful, a million pinpricks of light splashed across the sky. The moon is huge and bright, and you know how it looks brushed across the planes of Matthew’s face, even without looking at him.

The want to run has passed, banished for at least a few months, hopefully. It’s replaced with a different want, a persistent yearning that’s lived in you for years. To reach out, to touch, to hold, to take and pull close and never let go.

You’ve been trying not to think about it.

“What are you thinking about?” Matthew asks. He places his hand over yours on his thigh, grips and twists until he can thread your fingers together. Warmth spreads through you and you look back to him. His skin is silver with moonlight, dark with shadow like the sky, freckles dotted across his cheeks like stars. You’re not sure if it’s bravery, or foolishness, or absence of mind that makes you say it.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend that I don’t love you,” you confess. It’s easier than it should be. Feels like an exhale, a warm cup of tea, laying down after a long day. Letting it out. Letting go.

Matthew’s eyes widen, jaw dropping open. He stares at you with those beautiful blue eyes, two spots of daylight in the dark. He inhales deeply, lips turning up at the corners as he lets the breath out.

“You love me?” he asks, face splitting into a wide smile when you nod.

“You love me too,” he says, awed, as if he’s trying to convince himself of this face, Your brain sticks on the last word. Too.

“You love me too,” you repeat in turn, inhaling sharply when he looses a disbelieving laugh.

“Of course I love you,” he says, squeezing your hand so tightly that the bones shift. The sting of it is the best thing you’ve ever felt.

“Of course I love you,” you parrot. You think for a second that your face will break open from the force of your smile. But at least it seems that his might as well. That both of you might break open together.

“Of course,” Matthew says, leaning into your space as you pull yourself up to meet him.

“Of course,” you whisper against his lips.

On the way home, he drives normally. Holding your hand, looking over at you every few seconds, as if he can’t believe that he’s going home with you. Going home with you.

Your heart beats a steady rhythm, a mantra: I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.

The stars are bright above, and the road is empty for miles ahead.

#the winter fic exchange 2k25 #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #Matthew Tkachuk fic #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #hockey fic #nhl fic #andi's coping mechanism

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