#starlite drive in

[helena-bottom-farter]

[williammarksommer]

Starlite Dive-In

California 

All The Time In The World

Hasselblad 500c/m

Kodak Ektar 100iso

[weirdlookindog]

The Ghoul Show!

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

3. BLOOD - Which of your OCs would you want to have as your child?

Thanks for the ask, Marz! From this ask game.

3. BLOOD - Which of your OCs would you want to have as your child?

Can I have them as grown up children? Because I don't need any more small ones 😅

Hmm. Carr would probably make me cry lol. Nykim, sames. Serin, sames. Kadin would drive me nuts (how is that any different from my current children though lol). Alaia is way too touchy feely 😂

Probably Resh? Dude is pretty chill. And nice. Wouldn't bite my head off or stab me 😂💜

[fieriframes]

[FIERI: That'll be Ron Esser, everyone calls him Moondog, a former musician who bought the Starlite almost 14 years ago. Reconstructed this image so that it might leave me]

[persicipen]

chiffon made of moonlight ノ jiaoqiu . moze

ꕤ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . sort of prequel to my three of cups fic suggested by @bibilovedit ノ you sneak out of the camp at night to clean the wounds you’ve been hiding in fear of losing your reputation as a reliable advisor. your senses dull once again as you fail to notice two other general’s counsellors following your steps near the riverbank.

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 1.6k ノ gn reader — vague mentions of being involved in a military campaign ノ suggestive touches . yearning ノ licking the wound . treating the injury ノ brief descriptions of partial nudity ノ the beginning of an unspecified polyamorous relationship ノ flirty but caring characters :3

A problem, worst of the worsts you’ve experienced during your brief stay with the army continuing the campaign, drives you to the edge of reason. It begins as a mere itch, a trivial wound taken during a skirmish that you dismiss with the arrogance of youth. Yet now, beneath the starlit heavens and the expanse of the violet-tinted skies, that same wound threatens to unravel everything you’ve worked so fiercely to maintain.

The inlet is a silent witness to your bitterness, glowing faintly from the moonlight and the flickering stars, constellations mirrored in the depths. You watch their languid dance, their pale light casting strange shadows across the smooth stones lining the sand. The trees bordering the river are twisted, leaning to kiss their own reflections, their leaves rustling softly in the balmy breeze.

You walk until the water reaches around your thighs, trembling fingers reaching for the surface. It’s colder than you expected, sending a shock through your weary body as you dip a hardened from blood yet still sticky cloth into the current.

The sound of the waves, soft and relentless, lulls you into a dangerous calm. You don’t notice the subtle rustling of the barely audible footfalls that follow your path from the camp. Only the faintest breeze alerts you of their presence — Moze and Jiaoqiu, emerging from the dark like spirits drawn to your suffering, dipping in the waters to join you in the shallow cool.

“With a wound like that, you shouldn’t delay a visit to my tent.” The foxian murmurs, the concern in his voice a mellow duvet enveloping your tense shoulders. He nears beside you, his deft hands already reaching for your hurting back, a healer’s instinct overcoming any protest you might offer. “I know this type of injury. I could get you checked right away. Why didn’t you report that earlier?”

This is no ordinary wound; it festers with the poison of your own pride. To reveal it would be to admit failure — to lose the trust and the respect of your comrades. And so you hide it, beneath layers of cloth and pretense, beneath the weight of your responsibilities.

“Embarrassing…“

“What?”

“It was embarrassing to get hurt so early on here… I didn’t want—” your voice falters, the excuse dying in your throat as Moze approaches, his expression softening in a way you’ve seldom seen.

“You didn’t want us to worry,” he finishes for you, his tone gentler than you expected, as if he understands the turmoil that rages within you. “But we’ve been worried for days.”

“You’re an advisor, not a warrior!” Cuts in Jiaoqiu, finally opening his eyes, honeyed gold shimmering in the night like little embers to guide lost moths and lure them into the light. “There’s no shame in caring for your health nor in admitting that the guards back then irresponsibly let the enemies cross into the safe zone.”

The vocal statement stings more than the pain of your wound, and you look away, shame burning hotter than the fever that has taken hold of your back.

With a gentle caress of his fingers, the medic coaxes you to tilt your head and expose your neck to his cautious gaze. His irises paled to a platinum shine when reflecting the moonlight — something that caught Moze’s attention and caused him to think that the other man is quite handsome, despite the unpleasantness his constant commentary can provoke.

There weren’t any damages present on your nape, so the sudden curiosity around that place made you uncomfortable. Why would this foxian healer focus on a healthy part of your body then?

The stream of thoughts gets cut with the first shy lick of his tongue along the strained tendon. Like a lightning, it shoots through your entire nervous system, inducing a heated wave from the tips of your nerves. Despite the unexpected yelp and the squirming, he doesn’t let you out of his embrace — an embrace you thought would be gentle but is firm enough to keep you in place.

“Excuse my boldness… But before we return to where I can treat you to a proper nutritious meal, there are other ways of helping with the pain-related stress.”

“What about me?” asks the other man, almost as if scared he’s getting forgotten despite standing just as close.

“You? You have the entire front before you, have you not?” And then Jiaoqiu whispers into your ear, not breaking eye contact with Moze. “He may not be skilled with his words, but surely those lips of his must hide a secret of two to grant pleasure…“

There is something breathtaking about the moment when the resistance collapses under the strain of another kiss that strikes across your exposed skin, leaving you vulnerable and weak to their soft touches. One pair of hands holds you close while the other wanders in all the right places, igniting fires on the places it rests.

“No more fighting against us or hiding your pain.” The foxian murmurs, soothing you with that gentle voice. “Just let us take care of you.”

You know they can feel your body melting into theirs, moulding to their influence like fresh clay, your muscles relaxing as tension melts away from your bones. Even your breath evens out and you sway softly, entrusting your weight to their arms. It feels like surrender, a part of you admits — surrender in its sweetest form.

“You’re so warm…” you mutter into the sky, pressed carefully against the exposed part of Jiaoqiu’s chest, his inhales and exhales soothing you into tranquillity. “It helps.”

His tail swishes ‘round your thigh, its tip dipped accidentally in the waters. Its silky texture provides another point of contact, a heightened sensation of fitting perfectly against him, and he nibbles on your earlobe.

“And what about this? Does it feel good too?” He teases.

You gasp when feeling a second grip slip near your waist. Moze’s fingers are long and dexterous, exploring with care every single inch of skin. There is something thrilling in this approach, something forbidden, something exciting, like touching a stranger’s palm in the dark to seek an affirmation that you’re not alone in the vastness of the night. It sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins and you tremble from the weight of expectations as much as from the fact that it has been quite some time since anyone held you like this.

There is no need to speak the words out loud — you are at their mercy, naked and melting beneath the tender attention they pay to every part of your body. Before you’re able to decipher that mysterious expression on Jiaoqiu’s face, he disappears from your field of view, sliding just a tad lower to swipe his tongue across the numb wound on your back, his gesture making you remember that it exists — now without aching both on your skin and mind.

And Moze, daring to witness the entire process with his very own eyes, can’t help but widen his eyes at the tender eroticism of his companion’s actions, sending heat straight to his groin as the latter’s gentle licks move across the flared area hoping to work the healing wonders in some time.

“How are you feeling?” The foxian asks, hot breath tickling your neck.

“Better. Warmer.” You pant, lips slightly parted as the silver-haired man presses a peck to your jawline, the feeling of his hands sliding up your sides making you shiver with anticipation. “B-but… I’m not sure why all of this is happening…? It’s just a lot to— you know.“

“Perhaps it would be best to just work on your injury tonight, hmm,” Jiaoqiu suggests, smiling against your spine.

Unable to turn back to him, you make eye contact with Moze in front of you. He tilts his head in confusion, before a more thoughtful look crosses his features and he hesitantly responds, “let’s get out of the water and have you dry before going back.”

Relief and disappointment mingle together inside you, swirling into a frustrating concoction as you rise from the water, grateful for the tepid night air. The river wouldn’t do much good against the poisonous mixture of shame and arousal coursing through your body. The remaining rationality in your head did the right thing. Too fast and you three could be discovered in an unfavourable situation — whatever happened between you until now was already difficult enough to explain.

While you try to put on your tunic, thankful that the material is light and thus won’t aggravate the wound, two men quickly jump into their remaining layers of clothing, taken off not to wet them when entering the river after you. A sort of relief washes over you at the brief glance where you spot their pants bulging; glad you’re not the only one feeling hot and declining only out of a mingle of bashfulness and logic.

“We can go, yes? Time to put some proper ointment and bandage over your back. And, most preferably, a hearty soup would also be welcome.” The healer mentions, stretching into the air as if wishing to catch the faint scent of burning incense that flutters over the camp in the night.

You have no choice but to agree.

“Thank you… for not making a mess out of this situation…” you mumble out under your nose, slightly puzzled by the weird tension still lingering somewhere between you and other advisors. “I’m sorry I got in such a condition.”

Jiaoqiu shrugs his shoulders, while Moze merely narrows his eyes, stepping closer to wrap an arm around your waist. The pressure is not meant to be hurtful, yet it startles you as he leads you towards the tents.

“We can continue this conversation once you get better.”

“Continue…?!” You repeat after him in surprise, cheeks hot as the words echo in your head, ricocheting like the restlessness of a furious swarm of bees, stinging into your skin.

“Hehe…”

[macfrog]

mile high sex on fire chapter three

we're going overseas baby! (this is gonna be a three-parter cause i hyperfixated and couldn't stop myself so BUCKLE UP) author's note: i absolutely do NOT condone the use of private jets. they are GROSS and terrible for the environment and just fucking fly commerical ok? but in this ceo!joel ficland, private jets are fuelled by delusion and emit only clean, pure oxygen. thank you for reading. now, with that in mind, please enjoy reader being railed in a plane cabin. i love u all to paris n back 🤍🥐

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you accompany joel on a work trip to paris, to eat good food, drink expensive wine, and…get to know each other a little better

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) environmental crime, plane sex, fingering, handjob, unprotected piv sex, daddy kink, joel being a fucking exhibitionist menace, creampie, more gf representation, showering together, softdom!joel, sugardaddy!joel, heavy on the flirting, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, very ridiculous spending on very ridiculous things, workplace relationship and therefore odd power dynamic yadda yadda yadda

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.” “They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.” “Who?” Joel asks. He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes. “Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

You’ve never been on a work trip with Joel. Usually, he likes to take them alone. Martha told you once about a time a couple years before you started when Joel took an intern to a conference in Canada, and the kid spent the entire first night in the hotel bar, missed the conference the next day, and only just made the flight home, scruff of his neck between Joel’s knuckles.

He racked up a bill of nearly a thousand dollars just on liqueur and finger food. Joel had sworn he’d never take anybody anywhere with him again.

But there’s this client over in Europe he’s due to meet – an annual thing where they sit on the terrace of some luxurious hotel, drink expensive wine that tastes like piss, according to Joel, and have a cock-off over their money and status.

Sounds like fun, right?

You’ve a pretty good idea why he asked you. And he made a pretty convincing pitch: he’d promised you a relaxing weekend. You didn’t have to sit in on any meetings, he’d let you amble around the city by day, take you for a fancy dinner or two at night. All expenses paid. You barely had to lift a finger.

As per the deal, Martha organized the travel documents. Printed them, collated them, handed them to you in a neat little folder with a paperclip on top and a Post-It note with Have fun! written in red ink. You’d slipped it into your bag and followed Joel to his car, nodding to Rand as you ducked under the starlit ceiling.

Joel’s left hand sits around your thigh – because where else would it be? – his right clutching his phone, thumb scrolling as he absentmindedly reads some document. You’re watching the city soar by from behind tinted glass. Before long, it’s the dark green of trees flickering by, and then, canvased by the clear blue sky, an air traffic control tower in the distance.

The Rolls saunters past the main entrance to the airport. You watch it roll by, leaning forward in your seat.

“Wait, what…?”

“What, baby?” Joel asks, looking up from his phone.

You usually knew every fine detail of the plan by heart. It was your job to. But with Martha being in charge of arranging your flight, you’d missed one crucial speck of information this time. And that is –

You’re travelling by private fucking jet.

The car drives across smooth tarmac toward a pointed white plane, bold against the brilliant blue sky behind it. There are four people standing at the bottom of the steps leading into it; what you assume are the two pilots, and two smartly dressed flight attendants.

“How did I never know you had a…?”

Joel smirks. “Never showed you it. C’mon.”

He gets out, strolls around to your door and opens it for you. You’re still gawking at the jet.

“Jeez…” you whisper, hopping out of the car.

“What is it?” he says through a chuckle, leading you across the tarmac.

“I feel so…Everyone looks so…I’m in my fucking sweatpants, Joel.”

He looks at you under low brows, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Like he doesn’t want to hear one more word of it. He holds an arm out; his pinkie bumps into your tummy.

“I think you look beautiful, darlin’.”

It might’ve stopped you in your tracks. Might’ve crumbled the entire airport to dust. Might’ve made the sun drop out of the sky. You’re not sure. You wouldn’t notice if you dropped dead right now.

His words, his soft voice when he says them, send a pang of white noise through your ears, echoing around and bouncing off the walls of your head.

You swallow. Digest what he just said. And do your best to forget all about it.

Joel takes your hand and leads you to the plane steps, helping you up. He follows at your heels. “Thanks, Jerry, Lisa,” he says. You give both pilots a nervous smile as you pass.

The airconditioned cabin chills your arms when you reach the top, twisting around to look back to Joel.

“Go on.” Joel nods, palm ushering you inside.

You step forward and turn right, standing in the doorway to a pristine, white-walled, wooden interior cabin, leather seats dotted against the walls, dark brown glassy tables between them, soft gray carpet at your feet, vacuum cleaner lines still visible. There’s a long plush couch on the left wall, today’s newspaper on the side table next to it.

You feel Joel’s body shell around yours, his chin dips against your ear.

“Like it?”

“Not really. Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution.”

“How many trees you want me to plant to make up for it?”

You tut. “What are you doin’ in business? You’re so funny.”

You wander off without looking back, heading for one of the window seats.

“Uh,” Joel clears his throat, “there’s a separate cabin up back, too, if you want it.”

“Separate cabin?”

He nods. “’s got a bed. It’s cozy.”

A bed. Of course this asshole has a fucking bed in his private jet.

The pilots file in behind him, dipping into the cockpit. The flight attendants follow, and begin preparing for takeoff. Joel strolls over to the seat opposite yours, giving your legs a nudge under the varnished table when he sits down.

You both click your seatbelts into place, relax, and look out the window as the jet rolls by the airport, heading for the runway. The engine fires up properly, a deep hum you feel rattling up your spine, and then you’re pulled forward, body pushing heavily into the soft leather of your seat.

The plane races down the runway, the grass and trees blurring into a mix of dark and light green, before you’re lifting off the tarmac and into the air, your tummy flipping a little from excitement and maybe some nerves, and…Joel’s gaze on you.

When your eyes meet his, he scans down. Your little black t-shirt, skin tight. The way your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. Down to the waist of your sweatpants, then further down your legs. You know exactly what’s going through his mind.

And, honestly…being on a private jet on your way to a free weekend in Paris, accompanied by the best sex you’ve ever had…? Goes against a couple of your core beliefs about the world, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t on your mind, too.

The flight attendants let you guys know you can unbuckle your belts now, and, like a hive mind, you both unclip them and stand.

“Was gonna go check out that, uh–”

“I’ll show you to it,” Joel cuts in, taking your bag and leading you down the aircraft. He dips his head as he walks, the cabin too small for him to stand straight. You follow like a fucking dog, trying to hide the spring in your step.

Through a door concealed to look like part of the wall is a small room with a double bed, soft white sheets untouched. There’s a little TV on the wall opposite, a small table with another comfy chair by one of the windows, and a rail for hanging up clothes. The shades over the windows are pulled almost all the way down, sunlight splintering through and lining the soft carpet.

Joel wasn’t wrong. It is cozy.

He sets your bag down on the floor and closes the door behind you. You notice he locks it.

The corners of your lips tug, your eyebrows raise. “Might be classier than my bedroom.”

He scoffs, and you turn, falling back onto the bed and kicking your shoes off.

“Alright,” you announce, flat-out on the sheets, “I’m gonna get some shut-eye.”

Joel looks surprised. Almost – offended. “Sh…You’re gonna sleep?”

“’s why you got a bed, ain’t it?”

He narrows his eyes, runs his tongue along the bottom of his teeth. Steps forward. Sticks a knee between yours. “Not exactly.”

You smile up at him. He’s pulling the jacket from his shoulders, plain white tee underneath. He looks so fucking good. The man always looks so fucking good. He tosses the jacket to the floor and bends down over you. Hands pressing deep into the bed either side of your head, torso hovering over yours. Hips just too far away for you to lift yours up to meet them.

You take hold of his wrists. “Then…show me what it’s for.”

Joel looks from your lips to your chest, then back up to your eyes, grinning like a devil. He lifts one hand and his fingers come down to play with the drawstring of your sweatpants, tugging painfully slow on them. You want to whine, but that’d be letting him win too easily.

He loosens the waist and his fingers find the hem of your tee tucked beneath.

“You gonna show me those pretty tits, baby?”

You nod, biting your lip as he peels your top from your body, your back arching, arms splaying out on the bed. Joel uncovers your chest and slips the top over your head, discarding it to the side and leaning back to take the view in.

You didn’t wear a bra today. Wanted to travel in as much comfort as possible.

One of your wiser choices.

“Fuck, darlin’…” he breathes, eyes set on your perky tits, your round, hardened nipples. His reaction sends a fleet of electricity down to your core.

“C’mere,” you whisper, taking his shirt in your fists and dragging him down against your naked torso. And then his hips are there, right against yours, and you grind up into him, feeling his bulging crotch between your legs.

Your fingers dance along the hem of his shirt and he lifts off of you, letting you tug it over his head before his chest is pressed back against yours. You part your lips and he fills your mouth with his tongue, hands in your hair, body grinding against your own. He’s pushing you further up the mattress until you’re both in the center, disturbing the sheets and shifting the cushions decorating the bed.

Joel’s hand trails down your naked stomach and under your pants, cutting past the lace of your underwear to cup your mound, middle finger daring ever lower. You moan and drag your hips forward to edge his fingers further, until they’re dipping between your folds and your body’s rolling with pleasure.

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, “that’s it, huh? That’s what you want?”

“Uhuh,” you nod, bottom lip between your teeth, eyelashes batting in a plea for him to keep going. Keep fucking going.

His mouth dips between your jaw and your shoulder, teeth picking up your hot skin to suck a bruise while two fingers push inside of you, lifting your back from the mattress and into Joel’s rock-solid body. Some noise escapes his lips, something caught between a laugh and a groan.

“So tight, baby,” he murmurs, drawing a smile across your face.

And then your hands are messing around at his waistband, fingers fumbling with the button. Wanting him in your hands as much as he has you around his own. Needing to feel what you’re doing to him, since he’s well aware of what he’s done to you.

Joel’s hand slips gently out from under your pants and his weight lifts off of you. In the slivers of light streaming through the cabin windows, his silhouette steps back off the bed and shoves the denim down his thighs. His jeans hit the floor and as quick as he left you, he’s back pressing into you again, hard outline of his length nudging against the top of your thigh.

You slip a hand under the elastic of his underwear and take hold of his cock, while he picks up where he left off between your legs. Your lips connect, breathing laughs and pants and desperate moans into each other, hands working to push each other closer and closer…

Joel’s fingers pump in and out, curling just enough to hit your G-spot every time. His thumb’s bumping at your clit, pushing waves of pleasure with each circle. He adds a third finger when you start to gasp, the movement of your fist around his shaft becoming messy and staggered. You’re trying to focus on him, trying to get him there as fast as he’s getting you, but he’s so fucking good at it, and you’re starting to fade out of the cabin.

Your eyes roll shut; head falls back against the bed. You’re still trying to fucking jack him off, as if he’d even let himself cum in your hands before he’s been inside you. But you’re desperately trying not to give him the satisfaction of having you unfold on his hand less than ten minutes into this. Desperately trying not to give in to him and his stupid private jet.

“It’s okay, baby,” Joel whispers in your ear, pressing a delicate kiss to your hair, “you can cum. Do it for me.”

“F-uck you,” you whisper, and you cave.

Let’s put it down to the air pressure when you’re this high up. In fact, let’s just say: you’re on a plane, and you’ve never had anything remotely close to sex on a plane before, and that’s why, when your orgasm bursts through, you cum harder than you think you’ve ever done before. It’s because of how fucking insane this is.

Let’s just say.

You come to with your face buried in the crook of Joel’s neck. His chest is vibrating, Adam’s apple bobbing. You pull back and notice the dimples in his swollen cheeks, the crow’s feet by his eyes, and then…the wide smile spread across his lips.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he asks through a laugh.

You curse at him again, eyes screwing shut. His hand’s still between your legs, slowly moving in and out, lulling you through the tail end of your orgasm. Your hands have deserted their original job; they’re clutching Joel’s shoulders. You don’t even remember grabbing onto him.

“Got somethin’ that’ll make you feel even better,” he breathes, and before you’re fully awake, his hands are on your hips, flipping you over. He drags your pants down your legs, discarding them to the floor beside his.

You sigh when he pulls your ass up into the air, resting your ear on your folded arms. Accepting defeat, or maybe just…letting him do what he does best.

Joel slips your panties to the side and runs his cock up and down your dripping cunt. You flinch, still sensitive, and feel him slow down.

“Gonna make you feel real good, alright?”

“Mhm,” you reply, eyes closing again as he lines up.

It sounds like a bit of a dumb thing to say. Joel makes you feel good every time his hands are on you, without question. Even that first night, in that dive bar, before he’d ever really done anything. His hands sent electricity through your body that you failed all weekend to rid yourself of. But you hear what he’s really saying.

You haven’t had each other yet without someone on the other side of the wall, waiting for one of you. It’s always been a rush, always been about that race to the finish line just to satisfy your needs, and then return to Earth as soon as you’re done.

There’s no need to rush to that finish line this time around. Nobody’s waiting. Joel can do whatever he wants, can fuck you however he likes, and have you under his hand for as long as he wants. As long as you both last.

The bed makes sense now, doesn’t it?

He pushes inside you, thick, hard, full. You gasp, face burying into the comforter, legs spreading to accommodate his size. Your fingers grasp onto the sheets, nails digging into the soft fabric as he fills you up, pulls halfway out, and rocks back in.

“Fuck, Joel,” you cry, and his hips slam into yours.

“Huh?” he asks.

“Daddy,” you correct yourself, still gasping.

“Better.”

Joel pounds into you, strong grip on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock at a punishing pace. His grunts match your whines. Your hand stretches out to grab something – anything – to hold onto, to steady yourself as your body begins to collapse.

“Daddy,” you mewl again, muffled by the cotton of the sheets, like it’s the only word coming to mind. “So – fuckin’ – good.”

“Louder, baby,” he replies, groaning when you tighten around him.

You whimper. “F-fuck, daddy.”

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.”

“They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.”

“Who?” Joel asks.

He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes.

“Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

His hips crack into yours again once, and then halt. You cry out, the sudden feeling of him in his entirety, filling you up, pushing right up against your cervix, too much to bear. Too much to be muffled by the mattress beneath you.

“Let – them,” Joel’s hips drag back, slow, leaving you empty, “hear – you.”

He thrusts forward again, painfully, and you moan. Loud. “Ah, daddy,” you cry out again, and you swear Joel’s chest rumbles behind you with a laugh.

“That’s it, good girl. Tell ‘em how good it feels.”

You feel your mind start to slip, the cabin going with it. Your eyes roll closed, your mouth falls open. The only sound escaping your lips a whine, over and over, shaped just like the word daddy, daddy, daddy.

Joel’s forehead rests on the crown of yours, his voice a soft hum at the nape of your neck.

“See? Sound way too pretty to keep quiet, darlin’.”

He’s panting, words spilling out of his mouth between gasps and grunts. Hips are snapping at a grueling pace. You reach for his wrists again, planted in the bed either side of your head, and squeeze as if it might relieve the building tension in the pit of your stomach.

But he’s going so fast, so hard, fucking you dumb. And you can feel him start to falter, when your walls hold him snug, tightening around him as you reach your high.

He cums when you do. You feel him empty inside you as you hurtle through your own orgasm, rippling bliss all around your body. You both cry out, filling the tiny room with groans of pleasure and release together.

Your hips give, fall flat to the mattress, Joel still inside, slowly rocking back and forth, pushing his cum deeper and deeper inside you.

His elbows sink into the bed at your shoulders, caging you under his body as the remnants of your highs wash away. He’s running soft, wet kisses from your neck down the top of your spine. When your body stills, the pulsing of your cunt a mere flutter, he slips out from between your legs and pushes up off of your body.

Joel collapses alongside you atop the tangle of sheets and pillows, skin sticking, bodies thrumming with energy. You roll over to lie next to him. Chests rising and falling in unison, fingers intertwining at your sides. You’re staring at the ceiling, head tilting to rest on Joel’s shoulder, and he places a soft kiss to your hair.

You glance up to look into his brown eyes, lit by the thin rays of bursting sunlight seeping through the windows. The way the light moves across him as the plane turns, brilliant rays sweeping over the horizon and reflecting every angle of his face.

When he notices you, he dips his chin, and you prop yourself up, pressing your lips to his. Joel holds your jaw softly, thumb grazing over your cheekbone. His other hand scoops around your back, holding your body close to his.

“Sleepy,” you mutter, and he nods.

“Get some rest,” he tells you, but you’re already laying your head down on his chest.

Your heavy eyes blink the jet out of view; Joel’s hand stroking your hair sends you off to sleep.

----------

You wake under the white sheets, still wrapped up in Joel’s arms, to the sound of voices on the TV. Some comedy movie. Sounds like Adam Sandler. Joel mutes it when he notices you stirring.

“Afternoon,” he mutters, voice husky.

“Hi,” you reply softly, and his hand runs through your hair. “How long was I out?”

“Only a little while. They’re probably getting ready for lunch. You want me to head out first?”

You nod, suddenly feeling ashamed…and hungry. “Yeah. ‘n can you…make sure they don’t ask?”

“They ain’t gonna ask,” he groans, laughing as you roll off his body and let him up.

You watch as he dresses himself, toned arms pulling his tee over broad shoulders; tan legs slipping back into neat jeans. He slings his jacket over his arm and bends back down over you to let you kiss him again – slow, deep. Something of a thanks, a you’re welcome, maybe. A marker, anyway. A prelude to this weekend.

And then he slips out front. You lock the door behind him and start collecting your clothes, hopping around the cabin as you pull them on.

Before you leave, you grab a hoodie from your bag, feeling a little more exposed than you did when you first boarded. You toss it over your shoulders and open the door.

“Couple more hours,” Joel tells you as you sit opposite him, propping your ankles on his lap. His hands run over your socks, brows furrowing when he notices the pattern. “Bart Simpson?”

“Comfiest socks I own. Good plane socks.”

“Alright.”

“Go on. Make fun of ‘em.”

“I didn’t say anything. You want somethin’ to eat?”

You smirk. “Sure.”

He pours you a glass of water from the metal jug on the table between you both, and one of the attendants appears as if by magic on your right.

“Got you gluten free stuff,” Joel says as you gulp at the ice water.

You almost choke. “Seriously?”

His face twists, confused. Mirroring your astonishment. “Yeah. You think I’d let you starve?”

You almost laugh before you hear it, and realize how sweet it is. You didn’t even know Joel noticed this stuff. Didn’t think it’d be on his radar.

“Thank you,” you whisper, lifting your glass to mask the blush burning across your cheeks.

Joel nods once. Then turns to the attendant and asks for a burger, side of fries, side of onion rings. “We got sweet potato fries, Len?” he asks.

“Think so,” Len replies. “Want them instead? Or both?”

Joel thinks it over for probably two seconds, before he shrugs and says, “Both. Thanks, man.”

Len turns to you, but you’re still staring at Joel. “Unbelievable,” you mutter.

Joel holds his hands out. “I’m hungry.”

You give Len a smile. “What’s…What can I have?”

“We got gluten free flour, bread, pasta, uh…garlic bread for sides, too. And a couple desserts.”

“What the f…?” You stare at Joel. “You didn’t have to–”

“Just order, baby,” Joel says, palm facing you, stopping you from going on.

“I’ll, uh…You do fried chicken?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll have fried chicken, side of fries, and coleslaw, if you have it, please.”

Len nods curtly and heads back up front, leaving you and Joel on your own again. You finish your thought.

“What the fuck?”

He’s chuckling. “What?”

“You…This is…Nothing, you just…you blow my mind, every time.”

Joel shrugs, grinning. “Blow your back out, ‘n all.”

“Alright.” You snatch your ankles from his grasp – Bart’s toothy smirk slipping from between Joel’s fingers – and sit up straight, looking out of the window to the dazzling sky; bright blue on top and fluffy white clouds beneath.

Your food arrives shortly after and the pair of you eat in comfortable silence. Joel checks through his emails, you sit back in your seat with your headphones in. It’s nice, not having a phone to answer or Joel’s schedule to fix. Nicer, still, having him feet away from you, giving you all the attention you could possibly want at the drop of a hat.

You land in Paris at 10PM local time. Straight off the plane and into another sleek, black car, driven by a gray-haired, sharp-suited man named Denis whose hand Joel shakes before climbing in beside you. He slides into the leather seat and you fall against one another, your head on his shoulder. Partition wound up, though neither of you feel much like doing anything that’d require privacy. Your eyes are tired, heavy, you smell like eight hours’ worth of plane, and you’re basically salivating at the thought of collapsing into a huge, soft, clean bed.

Which is exactly what the pair of you do when you reach the hotel. You’re in some extravagant suite picked by Joel; you manage two glances around the dark place before he’s leading you by hand off to the bedroom, cases still parked at the front door.

And before you know it, you’re sinking into the plush sheets of a king-size bed, limbs entangled with Joel’s, city lights twinkling through the window into your sleep-glazed eyes as you drift off.

----------

Day breaks across Paris around seven in the morning. You wake with the blue glow of the sky, dusty pink on the horizon bleeding upward as the sun rises higher. When your eyes open and adjust to the light, you glance over Joel’s still sleeping body and notice the view behind him, split in half by the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower.

The curtains are still pulled back – neither of you noticed nor had the energy to shut them when you arrived. You’re both still in your clothes from yesterday, too. Joel managed to kick off his shoes, and you remember him pulling yours off before he fell into the bed next to you. You didn’t even sleep under the bedsheets.

You push yourself up off the bed, stretching your back and glancing around. This room is fucking nuts. Gold accented – gold handles, gold light switches, gold frames. Pretentious modern art decorating each wall, an upholstered headboard that almost touches the ceiling in front of you. Marble-topped nightstands with spotless silver lamps, glinting in the light.

You roll off of the bed, Bart Simpson socks landing on soft carpet, though his face has been awkwardly twisted around your ankle in your sleep. You shuffle off to a door on the left, leading down a small hallway – past some fancy ornate vase – to the living room: a wide, open space with the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the bedroom, looking out to the same view.

Two velvet couches sit opposite one another, a white marble coffee table sat between. Behind them, a dining table with eight chairs. Gleaming varnished wood. And then, through a couple more doors, a kitchenette with modern white cabinets, a coffee machine, a microwave.

Fucking. Nuts.

You hear Joel stirring in the bedroom and wander back through, dazed with sleep and amazement at this place. He’s rubbing his eyes when you walk in and spring down on top of him on the bed.

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, voice thick and husky. His hands fall onto your thighs, sat either side of his waist, and his eyes flutter open. “You’re energetic.”

“Have you fucking seen this place?”

“I have. Stay here every year.”

You press further into him, feeling a swell in his jeans and doing your best to ignore it.

“Can we go explore?”

“Outside?”

You nod eagerly, despite the way his face screws up.

“Baby,” he sighs, “I’m still in my damn jeans.”

“So, go shower. Get dressed.”

He’s not done protesting. “We travelled for, like, nine hours straight yesterday.”

“’n now we’re here and we ain’t here long, so let’s go do something. C’mon.”

You lace your fingers through Joel’s and pull him up toward you, sitting in his lap on the bed. He buries his face in your chest, mumbling something incoherent into the cotton of your shirt.

You giggle. “Huh? Can’t hear you.”

Joel pulls back with a sigh and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Alright,” he says, “go get ready.”

You leap off of him with a quiet squeal of glee.

As you pace around the suite, dragging your case into the bedroom, fishing some clean clothes and your toothbrush out, practically skipping into the marble-tiled shower room, Joel lays back in bed watching your every move. Smiling, eyebrows lifting with encouragement anytime you look over to him. Head resting back in the crook of his arm, sleepy eyes taking in all of your excitement.

You’re rinsing shampoo out of your hair when he slides into the shower behind you, a quick kiss to your shoulder.

“No sex,” you tell him with a pointed finger, squeezing the lemon scented gel into the palm of your hand.

“No, ma’am,” he says with a smirk, dipping his head to let you lather up the suds in his salt and pepper hair. “So, where we goin’?”

You shrug. “Wherever. Lots to do in Paris.”

“Wanna get you somethin’ nice,” he says, eyes screwed shut as he runs his head under the flow of water, “a thanks for comin’ with me.”

“I think maybe the private jet, the hotel room, plus the free trip in itself is thanks enough, Joel.”

But Joel disagrees. Heartily, apparently.

He takes your hand and helps you out of the car on a tree-lined street, tall cream buildings on either side. It looks like a movie set. You’re following Joel’s lead, spending more time craning your neck to look up at the huge, ornate windows guarded by black balconettes while he guides you across cobblestone toward the smoothly paved sidewalk.

You’re not even paying attention to where he’s taking you until you’re stood in the middle of a glistening store, plush rug under your feet, lavish chairs in the center of the room, a rainbow of fashion surrounding you.

“What…? No, Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes scanning the room. He takes a step, and you tug on his arm.

“I can’t fucking afford Gucci,” you whisper, pulling his body back against yours.

He hands you a bemused smile, eyebrows low, corners of his lips pulled. “All expenses paid, baby.”

Your arm falls limp and he drags you through the store, past mannequins in patterned gowns and silk shirts, past shelves of obnoxiously huge purses and accessories gleaming in the spotlights from above.

Your fingers stay locked around Joel’s hand, your head swiveling so much you worry it might fall off, looking from the vibrant floral wallpaper down to the spotless tiled floor, glancing politely at attendants and then dipping your head and wandering by them behind Joel.

“See anything?” he asks, turning to you at the opposite end of the store.

It’s ridiculous. This entire trip…is ridiculous, and you’ve only been here twelve hours. Following around at Joel’s heels like a puppy, watching as he clicks his fingers – no, before he even gets the chance to click his fingers – and everything and anything either of you could dream up just…happens. Right in front of you.

He won’t let up. You know him. If you tried to pull him back outside onto the street, he’d buy you something for the hell of it.

You know him. So, you decide to use that to your advantage.

“Gucci…I dunno…” you muse, squinting at him.

“Not your thing?” he asks, and he seems curious, but – you know him. You know that behind that polite mask is a smirk thick enough to make your knees wobble. He knows what you’re doing. “Where to, angel?”

You lead him out of the store. Feel his shadow behind you, watching as you thank the doorman and take a left around the corner, passing under the shade of the gently rustling trees. Arm in arm, you arrive before a huge archway, pristine windows surrounding the door to…

“Dolce & Gabbana…” Joel looks up at the stone writing atop the arch. “Alright. Classy girl.”

You giggle, pulling him past the wrought-iron fence and inside.

It’s sleeker, moodier. Less in your face. Suits you a bit better, though you can’t quite swallow back the guilt that sticks in your throat as you saunter around, Joel right behind you. It catches you when an assistant touches your arm, snapping you out of your daze, and asks if you need anything.

“No, thank you,” you reply, mirroring her smile. “Thank you.”

She nods and floats off.

Joel’s frame shells around yours, dipping his jaw to lean against your shoulder. “What about that one?” His eyes flit up to a mannequin just past a lit table of purses.

“The black one?”

“Mhm.”

“You like that?”

He repeats, a little more exaggerated: “Mhm.”

You shrug. “I do look good in black.”

“Look better in nothin’.” Joel steps forward and takes the tag between two delicate fingers, deliberately hiding it from you. He turns back, lifts his eyebrows in question. “Buy you it if you promise to wear it tonight.”

You smile. This man knows how to barter. And you take no convincing at all.

“Alright,” you accept, “deal.”

----------

Three hours later, you’re strolling down another cobbled street with an ice cream in your hand. And not much else, by the way. Joel’s taken all the shopping bags back to the hotel. He slapped your hand away when you tried to lift one of them from his clutches.

The wind sifts gently through your hair, cooling your face and neck, toying with the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing. It flutters the French flags overhead, red, white and blue blowing in the breeze. Cars roll by, engines humming as they weave in and out between one another, horns calling out in the distance.

Joel hadn’t let you come up to the counter to pay with him, had insisted you stay right where you were standing, and when he finished up and laced his fingers through yours, it was like a surge of energy had shot through him.

He led you out of the store and into another, and another, and another…until his hands were wrapped around, what, six bags? All carrying different components of your outfit for tonight.

And then he’d noticed the time – unlocked his phone with a curse under his breath, and kissed your temple. Midday. He was meeting Jean-Marc in an hour.

“You wanna come back with me? Chill at the hotel?” he’d asked, dialing his chauffeur’s number.

“I’m good,” you said, smiling sweetly as he squeezed your shoulder. Then, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you his card.

“’case you see anything else you want.”

“Joel,” you protested, but he’d shut you up by clicking his teeth and walking off, leaving you to follow after him, shamelessly beaming.

He’d apologized another three times before Denis had pulled up, then once more as he loaded the trunk with your bags.

“See you later. Enjoy your meeting,” you teased, laughing at the way his face twisted into a grimace as the car rolled off.

It’d been a pretty nice afternoon. You’d dipped into a couple more stores – though, without Joel to impress, the low-cut dresses and short miniskirts were somewhat less exciting.

That is, until you passed by a lingerie store. You stood outside for a second, peering by your reflection in the window to study what lay behind. Suddenly lace and satin – and the idea of Joel seeing you in them – seemed a lot more enticing.

You’d pieced together an entire getup: bra, panties, garter belt, even a pair of stockings, and a silk robe to go over the top. You handed over Joel’s card, ignoring the way your cheeks began to heat and focusing instead on how smug you felt, and skipped out of the store, bag in hand.

You’d called Denis five minutes ago to ask for a ride back to the hotel. He called you Madame, he said Nonono every time you apologized for bothering him again, and he promised he’d be there in less than ten minutes.

You pace back and forth along the curb, waiting for the shiny black Maybach to pull up. You’ve checked your phone, like, five times already, kinda hoping there’ll be a text from Joel. You swing the bag between your fingers.

A door swings open behind you, giggles filter out into the street, and you turn to see a couple bounding out of a jewelers, hand in hand. She flicks her left wrist up, tilts it in the sun. It’s hard to ignore the light bouncing off of her ring finger. You feel nauseous at the sight.

Suddenly the Parisian street dissolves, and what sweeps over in replacement is a long, empty lawn, maple trees swaying menacingly in the distance. There’s a blur of bright blue sky, sunrays bursting across your vision. Your hand comes up to shield your eyes, and there he is. There he was.

He was on the grass. You told him to stand up; his suit trousers would be stained green. He did it anyway. Trembling hands, expectant stare. You stuttered and stammered your way through a sentence fueled by shock and horror and…resentment.

And then you did it anyway, too.

The crackle of tires coming to a stop on the road in front drags your fraught gaze from the couple, now strutting off down the avenue. You reach for the door handle, but Denis is already out of the car and leaning down, hand on your back as you duck into the backseat.

----------

taglist: @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @@isimpforfictionalmen @lizzie-cakes @sarahhxx03 @tobuildahomeinthewoods @whatsliferightnow @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @pattwtf @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

[lancermylove]

Proposal (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Lucifer, Mammon, Diavolo, Barbatos with gn!Reader

Warning: None

Prompt: He proposes to you.

A/N: Sorry for only doing four! 🙏

———————————————

Lucifer spent weeks meticulously planning the perfect proposal for you, taking into account your personality, preferences, and the significance of the moment.

Ultimately, he arranged a private dinner in the garden of Diavolo's castle under the starlit sky.

Before the main event, Lucifer took you on a stroll through the lavish garden, walking hand in hand with you. He reminisced about your journey together and expressed his deep affection and gratitude for your presence in his life. If you hadn't been there, his relationship with his brothers would still be broken. And even if Lucifer didn't tell you, he was genuinely thankful for everything you did for him.

As the two of you reached a secluded spot near the banks of the lake, Lucifer stopped and firmly held onto your hand. His gaze softened as he spoke from the bottom of his heart. "I cannot fathom a life without your presence, nor do I wish to imagine it. You have changed me in a way I would not have thought. You have brought light and warmth into my barren heart. Hence..." 

He brought out a beautifully crafted jewelry box containing a ring with your favorite gemstone before getting down on one knee. "Would you do me the honors of protecting and loving you?"

The moment you said yes, he delicately slid the ring onto your finger and stood up to give you a long, passionate kiss. 

It was the happiest moment in his life thus far, and he hoped to create more happy memories and moments with you.

Despite his usual bravado, Mammon was secretly nervous about proposing to you, and while he wasn't the type to care for perfection, he wanted that moment to be perfect.

Mammon invited you to a casual outing as he wanted only the two of you to be present. The last thing the demon wanted was for his brothers to cause trouble or interfere in any way.

He took you on a long drive, eventually stopping at a secluded meadow under the pretense of a picnic. You thought it was a bit odd for him to have a picnic basket because you never considered him to be a picnic-going demon. But between your favorite snacks and the beauty of meadows, you weren't complaining.

Throughout the picnic, Mammon's nervous energy was palpable as he fidgeted with the ring box hidden in his pocket, stealing glances at you. He knew you picked up on his nervousness but was thankful you didn't point it out blatantly. 

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the meadow, Mammon took a deep breath and mustered up enough courage to speak from his heart. "Hey, (y/n). I've been thinkin'...a lot. Y'know I love ya, yeah? Look, I ain't good with my words, but since ya came into my life, things have been different, y'know? What I'm tryin' to say is I don't wanna live with ya by my side. I wanna see your face every morning, first thing when I wake up. I wanna hold ya close to me and not let go. You've made me a happy demon. I know I ain't perfect, but...I promise to be the best partner I can be for ya..." 

With trembling hands, Mammon took out the ring box and got down on one knee. His eyes were filled with nervousness, but his love for you overpowered his gaze. "So...what do ya say? Wanna marry me?"

As soon as you say yes, Mammon hopped up and gave you his tightest embrace. Then, he started to shower your face with kisses and completely forgot to put the ring on your finger.

Diavolo planned an extravagant proposal fit for royalty, wanting to sweep you off your feet with a grand gesture and let the beings in Devildom know you were taken.

He arranged for a formal ball at the Devildom palace, inviting everyone he could think of under the guise of a general celebration.

Throughout the evening, Diavolo made sure you were treated like royalty, from your attire to showering you with attention and complimenting you left and right.

As the night progressed, Diavolo discreetly signaled for the music to change and took your hand, leading you to the center of the ballroom, where a spotlight illuminated you and him.

If you showed the slightest hint of discomfort in the spotlight, he planned to apologize later. However, Diavolo sank to one knee, producing a velvet-lined box containing a stunning ring fit for his significant other.

With unwavering confidence and charm, Diavolo began to speak. "My dearest, you have brought much joy to us. You have shown perseverance in the face of challenges, compassion in times of need, and confidence in your feats. I cannot think of a better fit for myself and Devildom than you. Would you do the honors of marrying me and ruling Devildom by my side?" 

Diavolo presented the ring to you, his eyes sparkling with excitement and anticipation as he awaited your answer. When you said yes, the crowd erupted into applause and cheers. The prince slid the ring on your finger before picking you up by your waist and spinning you around. 

While Diavolo was a cheerful man, the smile he had on his lips was far brighter than one anyone had seen.

Barbatos invited you to dinner at the castle. Initially, you thought Diavolo was the one who asked you through Barbatos, but when you reached the kitchen, you noticed him making your favorite dishes from scratch.

You watched him gracefully move around around the kitchen, effortlessly preparing the ingredients and cooking with precision.

As he cooked, Barbatos engaged in light conversation, asking about your day, if the brothers did anything unusual today, and if you had anything planned for the upcoming days. He didn't give hints about his plan until he was almost done cooking. 

Barbatos' questions changed from casual inquiries to questions about your future plans, your goals, aspirations, and what you hoped to achieve. You were confused about why he was curious about your future but decided to shrug it off. However, the conversation left you very curious.

"I love you, (y/n)." He casually said as he passed by you, and just as casually, you responded to him. "I love you too." Not that you realized it then, but Barbatos had a victorious smile on his lips, which he hid from you. 

With the meal ready, Barbatos led you to a table with candles and flowers for a candlelight dinner. Through dinner, he continued the casual conversation until the end. When you began to eat dessert, Barbatos watched you with a smile warmer than his usual one. 

His question had no frills, no long speech, and got straight to the point. "(Y/n), since you love me as well, would you do me the honor of becoming my significant other?" 

With a warm smile, Barbatos presented you with a small, beautifully wrapped box containing the ring. You stared at him blankly with the dessert fork still in your mouth. Then, it dawned on Barbatos that he had confessed his feelings for you, and you confessed in return. He watched you with an amused smirk, enjoying the reel of expressions sweeping across your face.

"I shall take that as an affirmation." Without waiting for you to say yes, he slid the ring on your finger. But to add a cherry on top, he rubbed his thumb across the corner of your lip, wiping some icing. Bringing his thumb to his lips, he licked it off and smirked at you. "Scrumptuous." 

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open ➣ HC/Scenario Requests: Closed || Quick Ask Requests: Closed || GIF Requests: Closed

[lale-txt]

❈ driving around at night ↳ w/ Gojo, Choso, Higuruma & Shiu

a/n: reader is gn! i don't know about you, but i love the feeling of being in the car with a friend or a lover when it's late at night, and your favorite song is playing, and the night feels like it'll never stop...

word count: 1.1k

❦ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

Gojo doesn’t drive, even though he’d be great at it, he never saw the need to learn it since he can literally teleport or call poor Ichiji if he needs to be somewhere

that’s why he prefers to be your personal passenger princess on your nightly drives around town

and he comes prepared–the perfect playlist depending on the mood, a bag full of your favorite snacks in his lap which he’ll unwrap for you and put them directly in your mouth (after taking a giant bite himself), and he’ll never fall asleep during the ride, keeping you entertained nonstop 

you don’t remember when it started, but it became some kind of ritual for you two after returning from a mission to just drive around without a set destination

some nights you just sit in comfortable silence and let the bright city lights pass by, some nights you’re both giggling and talking nonstop in your seats, talking about everything and nothing

Gojo likes it when you take his hand while driving, even if only for a brief moment, and he likes it even more to rest his own hand on your thigh, careful not to distract you too much but enough to let you know he’s here and wants to be close to you always

he’ll smile to himself when you hum along to a song he picked or when you glance over to him from time to time; he doesn’t need his Six Eyes to tell how much love you carry for him in your heart

you take away Gojo’s loneliness so easily, making him forget the burden he shoulders all the time, even if only for a moment; but it’s enough, you’re enough

it’s like loving him comes easy to you, and if there’s one thing Gojo will protect, it’s you, always you

❦ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

the ring of his bike bell announces his arrival, and he’ll stand there waiting for you under a streetlight, the sweetest, biggest grin on his face and a tiny bouquet of handpicked flowers held out for you 

when Choso saw a couple share a bike the other day, he immediately wanted to try this with you too

except that he didn’t exactly know how to ride a bike in the first place

you offered to teach him, but he declined; this was something he had to face by himself (he asked Yuji for help who, of course, couldn’t deny his brother the favor)

before you sit down behind him on the bicycle rack, Choso sweeps you off your feet, plastering your face with tiny little kisses like an overexcited puppy; he is just always so happy to see you and he was really looking forward to this date

he even brought a pillow for you, so you can sit comfortably while you ride the bike through the empty streets together

Choso will be a little quiet at first, focused on keeping the balance and riding safely, and trying not to think too much about how your arms are wrapped around his waist and how close you are to him right now, your breath tickling his neck a little and his heart beating so loud

only when you reach the canal and can see the starlit sky above your heads, the tension will leave his body a bit, in awe of nature and your presence 

you stop to sit by the water a little, making up constellations of your own, giggling and laughing while huddled together, the heat of his body oozing into yours

❦ 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀

maybe you’ve worked overtime on a case together, maybe you both sneaked away from an overwhelming office party; either way you both take a deep inhale as you step out into the night air as you walk to the parking lot together

Higuruma grabs the two helmets stored under the seat of his scooter and helps you put on yours, then tightens his own

once you sit down together, he makes sure that you hold on tight to him, your arms wrapped around his middle and your chin either resting on his shoulder or your head pressed against his back

you can’t see it, but he’s smiling so sweetly; this was always his favorite part of the day, just you and him driving into the night 

Higuruma always takes you to some spots he thinks you will like; sometimes the closest beach, sometimes a bit outside of the city where you can see the stars perfectly at night, and sometimes just to a 7/11 at the other end of town, just so you can try out the seasonal ice cream and soda flavors 

his scooter may be a bit old with a few concerning sounds here and there, but as long as it carries you two towards tiny adventures, Higuruma wouldn’t dream of getting rid of it 

after all, your kisses taste the sweetest at night, when it feels like the world has stopped spinning just for you two, as if you’re the only humans left in this world, carrying all the love in your hearts 

and even though morning always comes, the night will always be yours together with the breeze in your hair when you drive towards wherever the moon guides you

❦ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐔

if you had to describe the smell of the inside of Shiu’s car, it would probably be expensive

it’s mostly the lingering scent of his cologne and the smell of cigarettes that’s enveloping you like a veil; warm and earthy, bringing a calmness you only feel when you’re with him 

it became a habit of the two of you, driving around town at night, with no destination set, just the two of you in the car

Shiu’s hand would rest on your knee or your thigh the whole time, the other on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road, but occasionally he’ll steal a glance at you, his lips curving into the softest smile

there’s always a cigarette dangling from his lips, sometimes passed back and forth between you if you’re in the mood for one

Shiu will ask you to grab a lighter for him out of the glove compartment and lean in for you to light his cigarette for him, since both of his hands are already occupied (and he loves any excuse to be closer to you)

“but gimme a kiss first, darling,” he’ll mumble at a red light, shutting his eyes for a moment when your lips brush against his

occasionally you’ll end up at his place after hours of driving around, but if he has to leave early the next day for an important client, he’ll drive you home and walk you to the door to make sure you get inside safely–and to steal one last good night kiss from your lips

[dreamescapeswriting]

Under the Starlit City ~ SCB

⤜ WORD COUNT: 2.9K

⤜PAIRING: Changbin x Fem!Reader

⤜ GENRE: established relationships, a comforting fic, reader having a stressful time so Changbin takes her for a nighttime drive, soft, fluffy, cute! Romantic, kisses and “love you’s”

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

It'd been a long ass week for Changbin and he'd been desperate to see you when it was finally over. So desperate in fact that as soon as he left work that night he rushed home to his place to grab everything he knew he was going to need that night. Life had been kicking you both down as of late and he knew just the thing that was going to put a smile on both of your faces if he could find your helmet that was. 

The two of you used to go on motorbike rides all of the time before life got in the way and you were both too busy to even so much as glance at one another from your spots on the sofa but tonight was different.

Tonight, Changbin was going to make you feel relaxed and unwind from everything that had been stressing you out as of late. You worked two jobs and barely got to see him but he knew you had tomorrow off which meant tonight was his only shot of wooing you before you were once again off your feet busy.

"Where the fuck is it?" He grumbled, shuffling through the many boxes in his garage that he'd yet to unpack from the move he'd made to his much bigger home. As he reached up onto one of the taller shelves he kicked one on the floor, knocking over and spilling the contents onto the ground. His heart practically lept into his throat as he spotted the leather jacket and helmet that belonged to you inside and he ripped it up from the floor.

God, it had been so long since either of you had gone out that the box everything was in was collecting dust, it might have even had dust bunnies on it to but Changbin wasn't going to let it deter him from his mission of the night, and he grabbed everything before making his way back into the home.

Standing beneath a lampost in front of your house might have made Changbin look like a stalker to someone. He was dressed in all leather with a blacked-out helmet covering his head, if it wasn't for the bright pink helmet he was holding in his hands he might have worried he looked too intimidating. Changbin pulled his jacket around him tightly, glancing down at his phone and up again for any sign of you. Normally you were home long before now, it was almost 6 and he worried something might have happened to you.

Just before he was about to phone you he saw you coming, your head buried deep in your phone with a frown embedded between your eyebrows which made his stomach drop. Maybe he'd messed up the days you were supposed to be working.

"Hey hot stuff," He called out, unable to contain his excitement anymore. The thrill of going out on a ride with you again excited him more than he could ever put into words. You jumped slightly, your eyes widening as your phone slipped from your hands and you raced to catch it.

"Jesus Christ!" You panted heavily, hand holding over your chest as you took in who it was standing there. You hadn't expected anyone to be lingering around outside your apartment building this late in the night, you figured Changbin would be home in bed already after the week he'd been having.

"Didn't mean to scare you, darling." Changbin winked putting on an extra flirting persona as you shook your head at him, your eyes taking in the bike as your mouth dropped a little. You hadn't seen this thing in almost two years, you were almost sure he'd sold it long before now and you smiled a little.

"Sorry, I have a boyfriend." You smirked playing along with the role he had in his head, glancing up at him as he pushed himself off the lampost and made his way over to you holding out the helmet for you to take.

"How about you leave the boring one behind and join me?" He wriggled his eyebrows at you as you laughed softly to yourself, you couldn't even remember the last time you'd been on the back of that thing.

"Boring? I think he's rather sweet and mature." Changbin grunted, holding his chest and stumbling a little at the mention of the word "Mature." His younger self would have cringed at the thought of him growing up.

Now he was older and drove a car more than he ever drove his bike and it hurt him inside. He'd always wanted to keep his rebellious years with him.

"You wound me, fair lady!" He cried out dramatically before you laughed through your nose, taking the helmet from his grasp and staring down at it. You could still remember the day he'd got this custom-made for you, you'd been having a bad day in University and when you came out to meet him he was standing there with the painted pink helmet and a leather jacket to boot-

"Remember this too?" As though he'd been reading your mind he produced the pink leather jacket from the trunk box with your name and his stitched into the back of it. It was something he'd had done since the two of you were constantly out on the bike, it didn't matter where you were going, you just headed in any direction the bike took you. Sometimes ending up at a beach or even just a wooded area, going for a walk together and enjoying the silence.

"I thought you threw it all out," You admitted through a whisper, stepping closer to him as he helped you slide back into the jacket with ease, his heart practically skipping a beat as he saw you dressed in it again. 

"Never, baby. Never." He breathed out, pressing his lips to your forehead as he slipped the helmet from your hands and you stared up at him. For a fleeting moment, it all of a sudden felt as though you were back to your old times together, with no stress and nothing there to cloud your mind. Just the two of you on his bike.

"Where did you have planned?" You questioned slowly but a smirk had begun to tug on the corners of your boyfriend's slips as he slipped the helmet onto you, his eyes finding yours through the open visor.

"It's a surprise." He offered you the only response, shaking your head at him you nodded.

"I can't wait," You said softly, your heart racing as you thought about escaping from everything, even if just for a little while.

Changbin helped you onto the bike, making sure you were perfectly comfortable before he twisted the key making the engine roar to life. Instantly you wrapped your arms around his waist, smiling at the sensation of finally doing this again.

"Do you remember the rules of being my backpack?" He asked, his voice muffled through his own helmet and you nodded, tightly squeezing his sides in a trusting manner. Feeling you like this set a warmth through him that made his heart race.

"Always," You giggled a little before he took off into the night. Leaving your worries and stress behind you. 

Changbin was always an excellent driver when it came to being on the bike but he was even better when he had you on the back of his bike. He put it down to the fact that he wanted to be careful - more so than usual - since he was carrying precious cargo with him. Your head rested on his back slightly as you looked around while you drove, your head already trying to come up with where he was taking you for the night.

The road leading up to the mountains that Changbin had planned on taking you was winding and narrow, he'd not realised that when he'd looked it up earlier in the night but he navigated it with complete ease. The air was cool as it passed you both, carrying the scent of the pine trees in the forest around the mountains surrounding you. You leaned into Changbin, the cheek of your helmet resting against his back as you listened to the steady rhythm of the bike and his breathing.

As you climbed higher through the mountain on the back, the city lights below began to twinkle like a scattered necklace of stars, the view expanding into a breathtaking view for you both and you already loved where he'd bought you. You reached a lookout point near the summit, and he slowed the bike to a stop, cutting the engine. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of whatever wildlife was surrounding you.

This was exactly why he'd bought you here, it was too quiet you wouldn't have to listen to car and house alarms, or neighbours that yelled all of the time. Here the two of you could be in silence and sit in complete and utter peace.

He helped you off the bike, your hands practically shaking with excitement as you took off the helmet and got to have a proper look around.

As you walked to the edge of the lookout, Changbin stayed behind to grab the blanket he'd packed into the trunk box and watched you carefully. He could barely tear his eyes away from you as he watched your body completely relax, your shoulders were no longer bunched and tensed and he could see you physically chill out. 

Slowly he made his way toward you, the city below you both a seat of lights that made it look as though there was another set of stars down there. 

"It's so beautiful," You whispered, your voice filled with awe as you continued to take in the scenery that was around you, barely able to take your eyes away from it. 

"Yeah," He said softly, looking only at you as his heart swelled with a mixture of pride and love for you,

"It really is," He breathed out, laying the blanket down just behind you before he made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his head between your neck. Your body tensed for a fraction of a second before completely melting against his, your head rolling back against him as you both stared out into the city.

It was then that you'd only just realised that the whole time you'd ridden up here you hadn't once thought about work or the bills you had waiting for you back home.

"You always know just what I need," You breathed out to him, your fingers finding his as you threaded your fingers through his and squeezed softly. Changbin had always been that way, if you needed him he was there no matter what, even if you didn't know you needed him he was always there.

"You'd been stressed lately and you needed a break so I helped," He chuckled, even though the break had been mostly for you he couldn't deny the fact that this had been really relaxing for him also. The whole ride he'd felt you close to him and he felt the most relaxed he'd been in a very long time and he owed it to you. 

"We need to keep doing this...to drive and get away from everything," You almost sounded as though you were begging for it and Changbin smiled to himself, his heart picking up as he thought of all the possible places the two of you could go.

"I'll put a bucket list together for us," He promised, his lips kissing your shoulder softly as your body shuddered a little and you felt your body heating up at the sudden attention.

"Are you hungry yet? I have some food in the trunk box and I made sure to grab some sugary sweets too," You practically melted into him and groaned.

"You own me, heart, body, stomach and soul, Binnieeeee!" You cried out, turning around in his arms and throwing your arms around the back of his neck, kissing his lips softly as a blush settled onto your boyfriend's arms completely.

"Let's go eat and stargaze," He chuckles, pressing a soft and gentle kiss to your lips before taking you by the hand and leading you back over to the blanket.

After the two of you had eaten you laid down together, your head resting against his chest as you stared up into the clear sky of the night. His jacket was laid across you for extra warmth and he kept you close to him the whole time as you pointed out different constellations and told him the stories of what each of them were.

"There's Orion," You said, pointing towards the southeast and smiling, your eyes lighting up as you stared over at them. Changbin's heart was already singing as he stared at wherever you were pointing. Even though he didn't see it all clearly he was still happy to listen to something that clearly made you very happy to talk about. You stared at the hunter with his belt of three stars before your eyes scanned over the sky again. "The big dipper!" You cried out, excitement evident in your voice.

Changbin stretched out his arm, and you nestled closer, resting your head on his shoulder as you felt your eyes getting heavier the longer you stayed there, but you didn't want the night to end yet. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart were comforting to you as you fought yourself not to sleep.

"We can head back if you're tired." You tensed against him, your hands clutching at his shirt as you shook your head at him,

"Please, no. Going back means going back to the stress of it all..." Changbin nodded, running his hand up and down your arm in a soothing motion, if it meant keeping you longer then he didn't care if you wanted to stay all night long.

"What if we could lessen your stress load?" He approached the topic gently, he'd been meaning to ask you for a while but with everything going on he hadn't known where to begin with anything. Moving in together would fix a lot of the bills issues for you both, everything split between you would be easier than normal. 

"Hmm?" You titled your head a little, resting your head on his chest and looking up at him. His cheeks were now as dark as they could get and you could have sworn you saw a little bit of sweat beginning to form on his head.

"Binnie..." You breathed out, worrying a little that he was starting to get sick out here but he sat up a little, leaning back on his arms as he stared at you.

"Move in together...We could move in and save on a bunch of bills..." It was why he'd moved into a home in the first place, when he'd been shopping around you'd helped him of course and he'd chosen somewhere you loved and he'd planned on asking you sooner or later.

"Really?" It would be a lie to say you hadn't thought about it already, but you'd been too worried to suggest anything to him. 

"My lease is up in a month..." Your voice trailed off slowly before you looked back at him, his eyes already boring into yours as he waited for you to give him an answer.

"Yes! God, a million times yes!" You yelled before throwing yourself at him, giggling as you kissed him all over his face. 

A year later since your night under the stars and many times of coming back to the same mountain at least once a month, you were back once again, only under different circumstances this time. Everything in your life was still stressful only a little less now that you had someone to share your hardships with, the two of you fought through everything together to make sure you had everything under control. You were stood looking out at the same lookout while Changbin nervously waited on one knee behind you.

Everything had been planned to perfection, you'd had a wonderful picnic under the stars, all of your favourite snacks and unbeknownst to you, a bottle of champagne was waiting in the space of his bike. 

"Binnie, you have to come and see this-" Your breath hitched in your throat as you saw the ring box in his hand.

"Yn," He started, the box opening to reveal the ring inside, a diamond that caught in the sunlight.

"I have spent every single day of our time together loving you, every time we're away I feel my heart reaching out for yours, crying when we're not near," Tears began to gather in your eyes as you stared down at him.

"Every day with you has been the best day of my life, from every moment we've ever shared to every moment we're going to share, I know you're the only one for me..." He smiled a little, doing his best not to cry.

"Will you marry me?" You barely let him finish as you threw yourself around him, kissing him deeply and whimpering a little as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Yes, Binnie, Yes." You cried as you continued to kiss him, your bodies moulding together perfectly under the starlight.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[space-matt]

Against time

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: many moments, laughter and 'I love you,' but is time on their side?

request: no

author’s note: hello there! I got the inspiration while listening to the song mentioned in the story, I hope you can appreciate it :)

tell me what you think!♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

The city of Los Angeles sprawled out before us, its lights shimmering like a sea of stars dancing on the rain-soaked streets, casting an otherworldly glow.

It was Friday night, and the traffic moved at a snail's pace as I gazed out the window, enveloped in my own thoughts.

Chris was at the wheel, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, his expression grave. Despite his serious demeanor, I could sense the underlying concern in his eyes. We had been inseparable over the past year, but something had changed in recent months.

The easy laughter had disappeared, our late-night phone calls had dwindled, and the deep, meaningful conversations under the starlit sky seemed like a distant memory. Now, everything felt uncertain.

The tender melody of "Time is Not On Our Side" by The Vamps filled the room, its bittersweet notes weaving through the air.

As the lyrics washed over me, a profound sense of melancholy settled in my chest. It felt as though the song was speaking directly to the fleeting nature of my relationship with Chris.

Time was slipping through our fingers, and I couldn't shake the feeling of irretrievable loss.

"Chris," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. He tore his gaze from the road, his expression etched with concern as he looked at me.

"What's the matter?" he inquired, his voice gently carrying a hint of weariness.

I hesitated, the weight of my unspoken thoughts pressing down on me. After a moment, I mustered the courage to voice the question that had been haunting me for weeks. "Do you ever get the sense that we're running out of time?"

Chris gazed at you, his expression heavy with emotion. "Yeah" he murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "I feel it every single day."

His words landed like a blow, confirming that the feeling wasn't just in your mind. He was experiencing it too.

"I always imagined we'd have more time" Chris confessed, his voice steady but weighted with feeling.

"More time to savor life, to discover new things, to navigate our path. But time keeps slipping away from us."

His words resonated deeply, echoing the truth you both struggled to confront. The whirlwind of obligations and responsibilities had taken its toll, gradually driving a wedge between you, even when you were physically together.

"Remember our time in Boston?" Chris interjected, breaking the heavy silence that enveloped you. "It was winter, bitterly cold outside. We cocooned ourselves under the covers for hours, losing ourselves in movies as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist."

You nodded, a wistful smile dancing on your lips. It was a treasured memory, a time when everything seemed to align perfectly. Time stood still, and you were simply two souls in love, unencumbered by worries or doubts.

But now? It felt like a distant dream.

"I don't know what changed" Chris confessed, his voice quivering with emotion. "But I miss that time. I miss you."

His words pierced through your heart. You longed to express the same sentiment, to convey how much you missed him even when he was right there beside you.

Yet, the words seemed to choke in your throat. There was an ocean of unspoken feelings between the two of you, and time never seemed sufficient to confront them.

"I don't want to lose you" Chris interjected suddenly, his tone tinged with urgency. "I can't fathom my life without you, but..."

"But what?" you murmured, anxiety quickening your heartbeat.

"But time isn't on our side." He turned to meet your gaze, his eyes filled with anguish. "We're being pulled in different directions by so many things, and it seems that every time we attempt to mend things, something else drives us apart."

The myriad of emotions reflecting in his eyes left you feeling overwhelmed, as if the world was crumbling around you, and all your opportunities were slipping away with the passage of uncontrollable time.

"What do you want to do?" Chris questioned, his voice tinged with desperation.

You were at a loss for words. Undoubtedly, you loved him. However, love no longer seemed to be enough. The burden of time, the weight of expectations, and the harsh truth that life waits for no one all crowded your thoughts.

"I don't know" you finally confessed, the strain evident in your voice. "I don't want to lose you either, but it feels like we're helpless against all of this. Time... it's slipping through our fingers, and I don't know how to halt it."

Chris peered out of the window, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “There’s a part of me that just wants to escape from all of this, to abandon everything with you and leave the world behind. But I know we can’t do that.”

The notion of running away together and starting anew, leaving everything behind, had always lingered in the depths of your minds. However, both of you understood that it was merely a figment of imagination. Reality was far more intricate.

You let out a deep sigh and locked eyes with him. "Do you think there’s still a chance for us?"

Chris didn’t respond immediately. A prolonged silence enveloped the room, interrupted only by the gentle melody playing in the background.

Eventually, he turned to you, and in his eyes, there was a glimmer of something that had been absent for a while. "Yes" he murmured softly. "But we both have to desire it. We have to figure out a way to halt time—or at least not let it govern us."

Those words, despite their simplicity, ignited a faint glimmer of hope within you. Perhaps not all was lost. Maybe, if both of you truly exerted effort, you could salvage what you once had. Maybe you could still defy time, at least for the two of you.

"If we both believe in it, we can make it" you responded, clasping his hand.

Chris nodded, and even though you were aware that the path ahead would be arduous, in that moment, with your intertwined hands and the world outside continuing its motion, you sensed that, at least for now, time was finally on your side.

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

Taglist:  @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @bernardsbendystraws @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @ivysturnss @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @c00ch13destroyer

[starsofang]

Southern Nights

kyle garrick x country!reader

tw: fluff that developed into brief smut. idk how that happened tbh. don’t look at me.

Kyle Garrick was many things, but picky was not one of them.

With food? Maybe a bit, but with women? He’d be absolutely mad to stick to a specific type of woman.

He’d been with them all — thin, chubby, short, tall, pale, tanned. Some were flings, some were girlfriends, and some were just mindless flirtations on drunken nights when he’d seek refuge in a shitty bar after months of grueling missions.

Kyle couldn’t exactly say he’d been with a southern girl, though. Not until you.

All wit and charm, pearly smiles and the cutest accent that made his sound like choked gurgles.

He didn’t know how he landed you. He must’ve done a hell of a lot in his past life to even gain the pleasure of calling you his, because the way you looked at him with that sparkle in your eye made him appear like he was God himself gazing down at you from the clouds.

Kyle knew close to nothing about the south. Fuck, he was british, could you blame him? How did a bloke like him end up with a southern belle like you?

Sure, Kyle had worked for the CIA before turning to John Price and vowing his loyalty to him. Even so, it seemed improbable of him to fall for a woman that accentuated her words with a lick of country charm, who wore sturdy boots on her feet that thumped along the pavement every time you walked beside him, hand in hand.

Despite it being near sinful for you two to pair together, it worked to perfection.

You taught him everything there was to know about your side of the road. He didn’t realize there was so much that went into being a pretty, little bird, but he was fully willing to learn so he could take mental notes of every piece of information that made you, you.

On late night drives when the two of you wanted to clear your headspace while also remaining in each other’s presence, you’d show him your collection of songs. He didn’t know any of them, nor had he taken the chance to listen to the arrangements of fiddles and guitars that poured through the speakers.

Somebody named Chris Stapleton was a repetitive appearance, and he didn’t have a clue who that was.

But the smile on your face as you sang along to the lyrics with your eyes on him while his remained on the road was enough to have him bob his head along and mirror your smile, giving your hand an affectionate squeeze from where he held it on the center console.

Bars were certainly different, too. They were more rundown and rugged than the ones he was used to, and it wasn’t a crowd of young people who were there to fuck and party.

No, it was a mixed crowd of all kinds of beings, sharing laughter with friends and enjoying shots of whiskey and a concerning amount of piss beer.

The music wasn’t upbeat and erratic and instead, filled the bar with a lovely atmosphere that made you want to saddle up with your lady and enjoy the blessing of her existence rather than fuel a desire to grind against one another.

The change of pace was something he hadn’t realized he needed. It was comforting, even more so with you under his arm, talking wildly about past experiences at that specific bar with old high school friends.

He thought you were beautiful like this, your words slurring together in your own form of accented youth, specific words slipping off your tongue in a way that gave him the subtle reminder of your roots.

Kyle had yet to know about customs, and when you pulled the cowboy hat you had graciously gifted him (he personally didn’t think it suited him, but he’d never shy away from your presents) and planted it on your head, he gave you a curious raise of his eyebrow.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” you teased, and when his mouth gaped open in confusion, your sweet laughter filtered through his ears. “You’re the cowboy, Kyle.”

It took him an embarrassingly long five seconds before realization dawned on him. You giggled some more, eyes crinkled into dusty, starlit crescents, and he had to swallow down the rest of his drink to hide his lingering sheepishness.

And when he took you back to his your place, seeing as you practically moved in by now, he didn’t hesitate to ravish you in ways that had that southern drawl drip off your tongue like honeyed nectar he couldn’t get enough of.

Even as you clambered on top of him after he’d spent the last twenty minutes tugging pretty, little moans from your soft lips with his tongue between your thighs, where he’d worshiped you like the sky goddess you were, you made sure to keep the gifted cowboy hat perched on your head.

The hat wiggled with instability on every bounce of your hips, threatening to fall off with every thrust Kyle uprooted to meet yours.

Your baby hairs slicked with sweat against your forehead, right where the brim of the hat met, and by god, Kyle thought he was looking at the loveliest bird he’d ever seen.

“My pretty dove,” Kyle cooed breathlessly, fingers dipping into the fat of your hips as he guided every motion back up, then down, until you were slammed against the plains of his pelvis with every push and pull. “Look so beautiful wearin’ my hat, don’t you?”

You moaned his name with broken fervor, and the sound of it sent shivers down his spine.

“Keep talkin’, birdie. Y’know I love your voice, sounds so pretty like that.”

His words opened the floodgates for your mindless babbling, accent heavier than ever as it laced over with need and desperation.

Kyle was in pure heaven when each and every accented word fell from those pretty lips. They pricked his skin with want, fueling the warmth building in the pits of his abdomen.

Your body glistened with a gorgeous sheen as it continued to bounce and wiggle on top of him, chest rising and falling in erratic attempts to gather air as each thrust knocked it out of you.

The hat laid a bit crooked, but stayed true to its temporary owner, branding you as his from where it loyally stayed atop your head.

When you finally gave in to the tight coil in your core and exploded into a mess of warm, fuzzy pleasure, Kyle took in the sight and engraved it under his eyelids as he couldn’t hold back from finishing inside you.

After Kyle had you successfully spent, body floating on a soft cloud of his blankets and pillows, his hat halfway off your head from where your face pressed into the mattress and sleepy snores left your lips, he basked in the sight of you.

Kyle didn’t have a type before. He’d gone through nearly every course of women before you came along, but now, as he brushed away the stray hairs from the softness of your face, he thought maybe he had a thing for country girls.

Only if they were you, though.

i’m a y’allternative girl from the south who lives in fields of cows so the fact i haven’t written this sooner is surprising but lord have mercy, i’m happy i did because kyle is so 🤌🏻 this was meant to be sweet and fluffy but i got ahead of myself and ending up making us fuck him instead but hey who’s complaining? not me

[rosewaterandivy]

iii. starlit night

summary: it's either fate or a cosmic joke.

pairing: s.h. x werewolf!reader

w.c.: 5.3K

warnings: blood, bloodlust, blood drinking, guts, gore, possessiveness, supernatural elements, quasi-mating rituals, exhausted best friend!eddie, no a/b/o, angst, mild dubious consent, amateur wound care, power dynamics

a/n: consider this my warm welcome to spooky season, happy autumnal equinox y’all! monsters need love too 🐺

m.list | playlist

prev | next

Eddie gave nothing away, and neither did you which was more than a little infuriating for Steve.

After the incident with the impromptu dog sitting and tire tracks on his lawn, he hadn’t seen hind nor hair of you. No daily runs in the woods, or in the crowd at Corroded’s Tuesday night shows, and certainly not frequenting Family Video.

The balm of summer has settled upon Hawkins, humidity sticking like dew to his skin no matter how long he lingers beneath the spray of the showerhead. He’s sweated through his shirt and vest by the time he clocks out to leave for the day, muttering his goodbyes to Robin as she reminds him to pick her up at closing tonight.

For as much as Steve loves the languid drip of summer days, he positively loathes the heat. Can’t stand feeling sticky and damp with no reprieve. So it’s really a no-brainer that he elects to waste the afternoon in the swimming pool, waiting for the a/c to cool the house to a respectable 68 degrees, utility bill be damned.

He’s driving back from Family Video, Robin in tow, as night falls. The streetlamps had a dull and ineffective glow which only partially illuminated the edges of the road. Steve took the back roads to Robin’s house, one of his many shortcuts through a town in which nothing ever happened.

“Steve!”

Robin’s gasp, and spastic pointing are enough to startle him from fiddling with the radio. Eyes slicing to the road, he sees an animal darting across the pavement, and swerves to miss them. The front corner of the car wings left as it grazes the animal with a loud thud, following by the shrill screech of wheels skidding to a stop.

His right hand splays against Robin’s collarbone and chest, pressing her back into the seat. He can feel her frantic breaths heaving from her lungs as she sucks in paltry breaths.

“Are you alright?”

She nods, fingers fumbling to release the seatbelt. She’s shaking a little from the shock of it all— Steve hitting an animal with his car on the edge of the greenbelt. Her mind is spinning and she can only imagine how he’s feeling, if the slight tremor in his hand still affixed to her chest is anything to go by.

“Is it—?”

He clears his throat and unbuckles his seat belt and opens his door quickly. “Just stay here, I’ll check it out.” The hazard lights click on as Steve steps out to approach the animal.

It’s lying at the center of the road, the poor thing’s chest rising and falling in slow succession. It’s still moving, hazily coming to in the still summer evening. Head turning toward him and eyes blinking away the fear in a flash of milk glass.

Oh fuck. Oh shit.

Suddenly spurned into action, Steve moves with a speed that even Robin finds shocking. It’s a moment she’ll never forget. In an instant he heaves the large dog into his arms, shouting at her to open the back door in a panicked voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

She wonders why her best friend is profusely apologizing to an animal that seems, at first glance, none the worse for wear. Steve slides it into the back and jumps into the driver’s seat, peeling out so fast that she barely has time to get into the vehicle herself.

“Steve, what the ever loving fuck is going on?”

Turning to him for the first time since the slapdash animal rescue, Robin’s mouth falls open in thinly veiled terror. Steve is drenched in blood and debris, remnants of fur and skin stuck to his gray shirt, slowly staining itself maroon and perfuming the air with a metallic tang. It’s too much blood to be from the accident, right? The animal was already injured when they clipped it; it had to be.

He doesn’t reply, electing to simply speed back to his house and run a bloodied hand through his hair frantically.

Robin faces forward and blinks.

She catches a flicker of something in the rearview mirror.

Wrong noises are coming from the backseat, terrible growls and low whines. The sound of joints popping in and out of place, muscles shifting and pulling taut beneath skin. Teeth scraping and grinding against one another.

It’s the pain that brings you to consciousness— knifing through your skull and making you want to vomit. Swallowing back bile and blood in your mouth, you want to rip yourself apart and keep ripping until there’s nothing left. Your jaw is moving unnaturally so, everything is wrong and you want to scream. Piping hot and burning, you’re sure you’ll spontaneously combust any second now when a hysterical shriek rends the air.

But not from you.

Steve is wholly unequipped to deal with his best friend’s nervous breakdown and a very naked what he can only assume werewolf dipping in and out of consciousness and bleeding out on the tile of his bathroom.

Between Robin’s blubbering and your soft murmurs, he can really only think to do one thing:

Call Eddie.

And that seemed like a good plan half an hour ago when he laid you in the bathtub and swaddled Robin in a smattering of blankets on the sofa downstairs.

But now, he’s not so sure.

Because Eddie strides into his house like god sent him to settle a score, wearing fury on his face in a way that could be considered cuttingly alluring, if not for the broken glass bottle digging into the skin of Steve’s neck as his back hits the wall.

“Give me one reason not to spill you guts all over your Nikes, Harrington.”

It’s more of a snarl than a request.

And what is there to say, really?

Sorry, I hit your werewolf best friend with my car after snooping around because for some ungodly reason I’m drawn to her and unable to control myself.

His hands and temples are covered in dried blood, dark and foreboding, crusted on his skin and hair and nails. To say nothing of his shirt, plastered to his chest and emanating a startingly metallic odor.

As if suddenly realizing this, Eddie blinks and loosens his grip on Steve’s shirt, palm coming away tinged in blood.

“What did you do?”

And, to be frank, Steve preferred Eddie’s rage to whatever this was, dread, he supposed.

“It was an accident.”

They both turn to the pile of blankets on the couch that is Robin. Only her face is visible, pale and dazed.

Eddie turns back to Steve with a look that could turn most people to stone, and yanks him up the stairs to the bathroom.

Greeted by a warm wall of steam, Eddie shoves Steve toward the sink with gruff instructions to find a first-aid kit. He crouches in front of you and murmurs in a soft voice. Languorously, you turn your head toward him with an easy smile, lips bloody.

“Hiya pal.”

Your voice is a croak, rough and jagged as it edges up your throat.

Eddie says nothing, rolling his lips between his teeth as his hands close in around your face turning it this way and that as gently as he can. The spray of the hot water has matted your hair impossibly at the back of your skull, rivulets coming back a translucent red on his palm. A large bruise blooms burgundy against your hip, splotchy and livid.

He leans you forward to survey your back, brushing away the rocks and dirt embedded into your skin and mindful of the raised red road rash. But none of that goes to explain the blood swirling down the drain— where is it coming from?

Steve stands awkwardly behind, red and white box in hand.

Elbows resting on your knees as Eddie continues his perusal of wounds, you shoot him a sleepy smile before your head falls to your forearms. The mad fluttering of your eyelashes as you battle to stay awake.

“She can sleep damn near anywhere,” Eddie mutters as your body goes lax in his arms, “Long as she knows she’s the deadliest thing in the room.”

“Is that, uh, safe?” Steve asks, handing the kit over as Eddie extends his hand.

“Safe enough. Help me turn her on her side, will ya?”

Both men let out a jarring gasp at the sight of the bite to your side. A festering and weeping thing, blood almost black as it skitters down your stomach and back. Steve’s mouth fills with saliva as he steps back and vomits. Eddie’s nostrils flare as he breathes steadily in and out, trying to piece out who or what could’ve done such a thing to you.

Steve spits a few times for good measure before gargling some mouthwash.

“I told you not to go in the woods.”

It’s about as subtle as a grenade, Eddie’s pointed accusation.

But that doesn’t make it any less true. If Steve would have just minded his own business, heeded Munson’s warnings, you wouldn’t be bleeding out in his bathtub right now.

“I-I know. I’m sorry.”

He leans back on his heels, a ringed hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as Eddie methodically begins setting out bandages, antiseptic, and gauze.

“Can you thread a needle?” He asks around a wisp of silver clenched between his teeth and hands the needle and spool of thread to Steve.

“Yeah, sure.”

“And find her some clothes.”

“Uh huh.”

He hands the threaded needle back to Eddie with trembling hands, absolutely terrified at the gray pallor of your skin. The surface wounds stitching themselves closed, as blood seeps from mangled flesh curving along your side.

Steve haphazardly grabs a shirt and shorts, tossing them to the side as he’s hauled back toward the bathtub. In the few minutes of his absence, Eddie has worked quickly. Your wounds are scrubbed clean and bandaged, and he’s angled the showerhead to hit just beneath your wound having cleaned it prior.

“Okay Harrington,” Eddie begins, grabbing a switchblade from his pocket and pouring the antiseptic over the blade as it flicks open. “Here’s how it’s gonna go: the wound is too severe for a simple bandage and she’d bleed through it anyway. The only shot in hell we have is you staying close and using your blood to jumpstart her system. We’ll have to be quick—”

“Wait, what?”

“Because I’ll have to disinfect the bite before her were instincts kick in and she starts healing on her own. S’like jumping a car, no big deal.”

Stupidly, Steve doesn’t pull back his palm from Eddie in time, as the wet slice of the blade pierces his skin. It burns as the blood wells up from the cut, bright red and cascading down his hand. Eddie yanks Steve’s hand toward your partially open mouth, eyelids fluttering in your uneasy sleep.

He presses the heel of Steve’s palm to your lips until you subconsciously latch, the tips of your fangs grazing his skin. It’s horrifying, Steve thinks, how easily your tongue laps at the ruby red rivulets weeping from his broken skin. You hum contentedly, swallowing over and over again until he realizes that he’s gone all slack and whimpering.

Well, now that is just embarrassing.

“All right, champ,” Eddie says, pulling you off of Steve and he mourns the loss of the warmth of your lips.

You tip back against the porcelain and howl as Eddie pours antiseptic onto the wound that is rapidly stitching itself together on your side.

Steve falls with a thud against the wall, cradling his cut palm to his chest as he watches in holy terror as you magically revive before his very eyes.

“Blood of your blood.”

Eddie says this as if it could possibly explain anything.

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Steve can see the blood— his blood— as it warms your cheeks and lips, pumps life back into your muscles and arteries. And you must be a living nightmare torn straight from the depths of his mind, more wild than the wilderness skirting the edges of town, a cursed thing surely there to kill them all.

“She’ll be weak for a few days,” Eddie says, leaning back against the wall after he cuts off the water. “We’ll just keep her hydrated and fed and she’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Delirium must be setting in, because Steve finds himself nodding along to Eddie’s instructions. Allows himself to be tugged forward by the lanky man as he slices a near-identical cut into your palm.

“Drink, it’ll close up soon and you need your strength.”

Steve doesn’t even think twice about it, sinking his teeth into the meat of your palm and sucking. Every time your body tried to stitch itself back together, he draws forth another pull of garnet blood, precious droplets cascading down his jaw and neck, failing to stifle the noise trying to break free from his throat.

The room doesn’t so much as spin as it shifts, blurring out in haze and lights bursting like stars behind his eyelids. He tongues at your lifeline, gasping, slurping, and moaning until—

“Okay Romeo, slow it down there.”

Eddie grips the scruff of his neck like he’s an overexcited puppy and jerks him backward onto the cold tile floor.

“‘Kay,” He blinks lazily, mouth slick and painted a violent shade of red as he slumps to the floor.

Eddie eyes him warily, “Ya with us, Harrington?”

“Feel high,” Steve replies, still woozy and buzzing.

Before he can reply, you shake yourself awake and shudder in the cool air. You look around, everything too bright and smelling like you’d huffed the entire contents of a janitor’s closet. Someone tosses a shirt and shorts your way, and you slowly worm your way into the clothes. Skin feeling too tight and something smarting at your hip.

“Fuck,” A dazed voice says, sending a shiver down your spine. A hand gently touching the side of your face, blood smearing against your cheekbone as he turns your head. “Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”

Eddie scoffs from somewhere near, as your lips kick up in a smile. His thumb grazes the full of your lips, skirting against the pearly white of your fangs. And it’s only when you take in a lungful of Harrington that it all falls together.

Tearing yourself from the surging desire to nuzzle into his open palm, you bare your teeth and train your eyes on Eddie. Snarling to say:

“The fuck did you do.”

Because there was absolutely no way this human was somehow halfway to being your mate.

Not when you’d told your Guardian, who was smirking down at you now, that under no circumstances would that be happening.

He barks a laugh and shrugs as if to say, you were dying, what could I do?

You shakily stand, ignoring the crestfallen expression on Steve’s face, and amble out of the bathroom.

Life must have been some cruel joke, only to serve Steve Harrington, of all people, up on a plate and wave him in your face as something you could ever afford to keep.

A cutting slice of tragedy to give him some kind of forever, when you couldn’t even take care of yourself, much less a pack.

The words of the only father figure you’d ever known pounded in your skull as you hurried down the stairs and out into the balmy night:

This is a gift, it comes with a price.

You’re gone for what feels like days.

A span of time that finds Steve shaky and pale, nearly biting off the heads of everyone currently invading his house instead of answering their inane questions, until a voice in his head warns, Easy now.

Robin’s somewhat functioning, though not entirely recovered from the shock of the century; the revelation that werewolves exist. And that her best friend is fated to be with one.

She just about lost her mind when Eddie sat the pair of them down to explain things.

“Mates. What does that mean?”

She’d done most of the talking, since Steve hadn’t said a word since you left.

Eddie sighs and his eyes dart back and forth, as if he’s second guessing himself in sharing this information outside the pack, as ramshackle as it was.

“It’s like, having partner, I guess. But it’s predetermined biologically? We don’t really know how or why it happens, and it’s rare when it does.”

“So… not every werewolf gets a mate.”

“Well, I mean they can date and be with whoever they want, just like us. But if there’s a mate and the circumstances align just so…” He trails off and glances at Steve, guilt etched on his face. “It makes being with anyone besides your mate difficult.”

“How so?”

“Kind of like a bad break-up, but you both want to be together? There’s no physical ailment, but you just feel—”

“Abandoned.”

Eddie swallows and nods.

“And she just—”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” He cautions Robin. “She could come back, we don’t know. But, to be fair, I did kind of fuck it up.”

“Wait, hold on.” Robin extricates an arm from her swaddle of blankets and grabs Steve’s hand, “So you’re saying that she didn’t reject this whole thing?! She just ran out of here like a bat outta hell! How is that not a rejection?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Okay,” she drawls, “And?”

Eddie sharks his head, “I really can’t say more than I already have.”

She scoffs, “That’s a fuckin’ lie and you know it.”

Eddie’s eyes cut back to Steve as he lets Robin run his thumb across his bandaged hand. His eyes almost looking through Eddie, far off and distant. It’s spooky, how quickly the light left him as you slipped out of the front door that night. How Steve could tell the instant it happened, jerking upright on the tile floor and Eddie watched as his body tensed, muscles coiling with adrenaline and no way to rid himself of it.

He scrubs a hand down the tired plane of his face, letting loose a beleaguered sigh.

“Look, I’m a Guardian, not a Scrivener alright?”

“Like we’re supposed to know what that means!” Robin hisses in reply, thumb worrying across Steve’s lax palm.

“I just gotta make a call, okay?” He says, rising to stand and roll his neck. “Stay with him until I get back.”

“Yeah,” She calls as he walks to the phone in the kitchen, fingers punching in the familiar set of numbers. “No shit, Sherlock!”

Eddie drums his fingers against the wall and hopes to God she picks up, because if he has to talk to her mother one more time—

“Hello, Wheeler residence,” She chirps down the line.

Eddie lets out a sigh of relief, his forehead resting on the cool wood paneling as he says, “Hey Nance, we’ve got a bit of a situation. Can you make it to Harrington’s place?”

It takes all of ten minutes for Nancy Wheeler to come barrelling in, her arms laden with books and giving Eddie a look that would strike lesser men dead on the spot.

“I could kill you Munson.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He says with a lazy wave of his hand, “Join the club Wheels.”

“I get first dibs,” Robin pipes up with her first smile of the evening.

“Guess I’ll settle for sloppy seconds then,” Nancy huffs, dropping the books on an ottoman. “I can’t believe you did this, going against not only her express wishes but Steve’s as well? Bet you didn’t even tell him what all this entailed and now look at him!”

Steve, for all the talk about him, says nothing. His face radiating heat and steadily becoming a vibrant pink.

“Is he,” Eddie begins, stepping closer. “Blushing?”

“Nah,” Robin says knowing best and laying a cool palm to his forehead, “That’s no blush, that’s a fever.”

The thing about Steve is that he rarely, if ever, gets sick. Had perfect attendance all through school, until he got caught skipping, because he’d never gotten the crud. So when he emits a full body shiver, Robin has no choice but to act.

His teeth are still chattering even after being hauled upstairs and smothered beneath blankets. And saying that Steve feels ill, or under the weather or even is inching toward death is a massive understatement.

He grunts beneath the sheets and blankets, socked feet sliding against the rumpled fabric. He aches from the top of his head to the toes of his feet, somehow his fingernails hurt. What is up with that bullshit?

And yeah, he’s supposed to stay in bed, he knows that. But he can’t see the door from up here and what if you come back, what then? What if you and Eddie get into it again and you storm out?

He’s not warming up any more up here than he would down there. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he thrashes beneath the covers and hobbles down the hall.

What Steve is not anticipating however, is to find his living room filled with the likes of Chief Hopper and his daughter El, a lanky older man that he doesn’t recognize, the Byers family, Lucas, Dustin, Mike, Max, Billy fucking Hargrove, and finally, you.

So, it’s not all that surprising when he slumps to a heap on the landing of the stairs.

Alright, okay, he passed out a little bit. What gives?

Well, in your opinion (which really is the only one that matters at present), Steve fucked up is what.

Not only did he get out of bed and drop like a sack of potatoes at the sight of what can only be described as a pack of people? Werwolves, who knows—in his house, but on the way down, he managed to knock his head on the banister and come to with someone half-shouting at him and half-shouting at everyone else in the room.

“If anything, this is Munson’s fault.”

“Shut the fuck up Hargrove,” Eddie sulks, “No one asked for the opinion of a drop-out meat-head.”

“That’s rich coming from you, super senior.”

“I swear to god—”

“Boy, you better settle down!”

“C’mon Wayne, I’m just—”

A low, warning growl cuts through the room.

Everyone has the common sense to look abashed, tail between their legs, and even Hargrove stubs out his cigarette.

“Cut that shit out.”

Angry eyes greet Steve as he groggily comes to. Irises bleeding milky white as you struggle to contain your baser nature.

“Are you alright?”

Each word is bitten and harsh, your teeth set in a tidy row against your plump lips.

He nods, wincing at the pain blooming in his temple. You continue to glare as you sit him upright, “You.”

Steve flinches, pain thudding dully in his skull, all too aware that there will be an audience at his execution if your expression is anything to go by. He opens his mouth to apologize, the sibilant ‘s’ on the tip of his tongue, until your eyes slice to his and stun him into silence.

“Don’t you even start.” With a sigh, you join him leaning back against the railing, hand falling uselessly between you. “This is all my fault. You wouldn't be in this mess if I had any lick of sense.”

It startles a laugh from him, how quickly you rush to accept the blame.

“Well, I did hit you with my car.”

“Oh, right,” You snort, “That.”

“Can I um,” He says haltingly, “What happened?”

Your head knocks once against the wood banister, “You were supposed to stay in bed.” Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you shrug. “Best I can guess is you were worried and got up. Only to be greeted with the shock of a lifetime by having a buncha weres in your living room.”

His lips form a silent ‘oh.’

“We’re not a pack,” You’re quick to clarify, “At least, not officially. And they’re not all weres, just most of ‘em.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, and Steve is placated, for now.

“Hey, boss?”

Though, he still can’t get over that Billy motherfucking Hargrove is in his living room and deferring to you. You merely turn your head before he says something about some vital information being left out of the welcome packets for tonight, and you sigh with a roll of your eyes.

“Sure Hargrove, lemme get Steve settled and we’ll get into it.”

You stand up pulling Steve with you, and he sees Billy nod before lighting up another cigarette and turning toward the window.

He’s insistent that he doesn’t need a babysitter, but that does nothing to stop Dustin from inviting himself into Steve’s room when you go down to sort things out with the not-pack. He feels marginally better, and maybe Eddie was right when he said proximity helps. He doesn’t feel as wrecked as he was earlier, and if anything, it��s getting a bit hot underneath all the covers on his bed.

“Don’t smother him, Henderson,” You grunt, sticking out your chin as you lean on the doorjamb an hour or so later, while Dustin continues piling blankets on Steve. “This isn’t Mommy Dearest, kid.”

Steve thinks it’s cute, the slight drawl in your voice as you scold him. It’s probably your not-pack voice, the lower register, and gruffness of it. Packmaster-mode, Dustin had called it, even though the title is technically Alpha. But no one calls you that to your face, something about not liking the moniker or responsibility of it.

“Alright punk, scram.”

Dustin does as he’s told, begrudgingly so.

“Y’know,” He says, pausing at the door, “You’ve got to work on your people skills.”

Flicking the hat off of his head and shutting the door in response, you turn back to Steve looking ready to throttle the pipsqueak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You sigh, slumping down on the bed.

“It’s his ego, right?”

You blow a raspberry and let out a humorless laugh, “Eddie says it’s his tone.”

“Hmm, yeah. That too.”

Steve shuffled over to make room on the bed and peeled the covers back in a huff. You’d kicked off your sneakers and snuck one leg under the sheets next to his, the other propped with your foot resting on the mattress.

“Oh my god, you’re so warm.”

“Yeah, we run hot. It’s a were thing.”

Steve doesn’t sag against you exactly—it wouldn’t make any sort of physical sense—but he feels like he does it metaphorically.

“Ugh, that must be brutal in the summer.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” You give him a small smile and let your arm graze his thigh. “But it’s not all bad.”

Steve picks idly at the fraying hem of his shorts, fingers itching for something, anything to do. He’s not mad, well, not exactly, but he is kinda keyed up.

“Can hear you thinkin’ in there.”

You crack an eye open, and he turns back, a blush dusting his cheekbones.

“It’s just—” He starts to say, falling silent as you sit up beside him, the legs of your shorts, which are unfortunately boxers he grabbed without looking, rise up to reveal the soft skin of your thighs. And your skin is the only thing soft about you, from what Steve can tell.

“You didn’t even give me a choice.”

The light in your eyes snuffs itself out. Your face falls as you take in what he’s just said.

You clear your throat, “It’s not much of a choice,” Voice soft and small, “Not really.”

Steve nods, rolling his shoulder and chewing on his lip.

“Look, I’m really sorry Steve, truly. And if there was a way I could go back and undo all of this, I would.”

A momentarily panic flares up in his chest. No, that's not what he— he didn’t mean it in that way. He frustratedly runs a hand through his hair, recalling how Nancy pointed out that communication had never been his strong suit.

“No, hold on. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all fucked up now,” You admit, “Eddie knew how I felt about it and he went and did it, anyway. He claims it was done in my best interest, but he’s a smarmy motherfucker when he wants to be.” It all rushes out of you in the span of a breath, but now you’re on a roll and can’t stop, no matter the defeated expression on Steve’s face.

“He just like, dove straight in and started the Blood Rite without either of our consent, and now we’re stuck in this labyrinthian limbo from hell because you’ve had my blood and I’ve had yours. So how are we ever gonna know if any of this,” You wave frantically between your bodies as if it’s somehow proof, “Is a legitimate and purposeful choice or the result of fucking werewolf nonsense?!”

Well, Steve certainly wasn’t expecting any of that.

He looks at you, so directly it’s almost a challenge, the muscle in his jaw working steadily and you have to will your need to dominate deep down like the slumbering beast it is. But he’d look so pretty laid out and begging underneath you.

Ahem, another time maybe.

“You don’t wanna do this.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No, but it’s what you meant.”

“Steve, no—”

“Heavily implied.” He spits, turning toward you and shifting up on his knees. “I’m not stupid, y’know.” Steve says, and seeing you caught off-guard like this has set something into motion that he just can’t get the precise nature of yet.

You swallow and drag your hand down your face, letting it settle across your lips as you study him. Keen eyes, a predator’s eyes following every movement as he spreads his legs wide, nearly straddling you but not quite.

“A part of you wants me.”

You're staring at the ceiling fan now, but your face has gone tight with frustration and something else.

“More than you should.”

One hand distractedly pushes the hair from your face, your mouth falling open to argue.

“Well?”

You swallow, pushing yourself up straighter. “I should go,” You say carefully, eyes rapt on Steve’s face. Responding more to the tone in his voice than anything else, and you chafe under the ease with which he wields it.

He doesn’t back down, which only stokes your ire. Steve’s close enough to touch, but remaining just out of reach, taunting that part of you that howls for him.

Well, two can play at that game.

Desire uncoils in your gut at a lazy pace, taking its time to pool beneath your navel. It shakes you alive, prompting you to disentangle yourself from the sheets wrapped about your ankles. Rising to your haunches as if readying yourself for a chase, Steve feels himself prickle hot all over just at the sight of it.

He licks his lips, and he’s so close that you can feel rather than see the slight shudder of his body. If you pushed just a bit harder, took in a little more atmosphere he’d fall like a house of cards.

And then, to the victor go the spoils.

Steve shakes his head and sighs, it’s such an infuriatingly him gesture that you’re nearly taken aback. But his gaze remains steady, just as his hands and heart do, the comforting da-dum, da-dum, da-dum of it drawing you closer and closer.

Normally, you’d find it endearing. So familiar that you can paint it with your eyes shut, but not tonight, not when you have the moon and him singing in your veins, emotions a bit fraught and not entirely your own.

Walking on your knees across the bed as if it’s a desert, and you’d spent hundreds of miles repenting, Steve stills.

Baring your teeth to smile wide and wild, “C’mere honey,” You croon, saccharine sweet. “I’ll play nice.”

He breathes your name, there’s no other word in his head.

Some things are fated, destined, and mapped in the stars, but nowhere is it said that these things need to be kind.

[the-astral-express-archive]

Honkai: Star Rail | Headers From Returning Player Event "Starlit Homecoming" Menu

[deliciousdekarios]

Reading by the river

A/N - not everything is going to be a thirst fest here, but the possibility is there. For my first writing here, I decided to try something sweet to ease into it. It was a cute idea I had and I hope you enjoy.

You and Gale haven't admitted your feelings for each other yet, but you sense a pining from him and you want him too. Gale x Fem reader

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the riverbank camp, painting the serene coastline in hues of orange and pink. It was rather picturesque. The camp activity was winding down, and everyone was engaged in their respective tasks, preparing for the approaching night. Amidst this, you sat under a tree with Gale, your trusted companion and fellow seeker of arcane knowledge.

Gale Dekarios, the charming wizard from Waterdeep, sat beside you, his eyes fixed on the ancient tome you both were poring over. The book's pages whispered secrets of the Weave (or so he hoped). Gale's scholarly demeanor was evident as he absorbed every word with fervor.

As much as you love these moments, listening to Gale explain things you don't quite understand, your attention was on more than just the arcane mysteries tonight. An unspoken tension between you and Gale had been slowly driving you mad. You were almost certain that Gale harbored something more than friendship for you. Still, the fear of rejection was holding you back, reminding you of past heartaches.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you and Gale settled into your routine, trading scrolls and tomes as the lanterns flickered to life around you. The soft sound of the river lapping against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to your readings.

Over time, you had grown comfortable with each other, and it was not uncommon for you to doze off against Gale's shoulder, lulled by the rhythmic sound of his breathing. Gale never disturbed you, even though his back protested against the unforgiving bark of the tree.

Tonight was no different. You awoke from your unintended nap, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you glanced at Gale. "Was I asleep long?" you asked in a half yawn, oblivious to the passing of time.

"Oh, only 20 minutes or so, not to worry," Gale replied with a gentle smile. His eyes, however, betrayed the truth. He had sat there, patiently watching over you for much longer than that. "You can stay if you'd like. I'm in no hurry to go to bed." He tilted his head back and shifted his bum a bit, leaning against the tree trunk and looking back at the night sky.

"Okay, maybe I'll stay for a few more minutes then." You settle back down, resting your head on Gale's shoulder as you close your eyes. You hope he doesn't mind, but selfishly, you want to steal a few more moments of this.

Gale remained silent, letting out a small sigh, signaling his contentment to bask in the quiet companionship you shared under the starlit sky. At that moment, as the night enveloped you in its embrace, you knew that some feelings didn't need to be spoken to be understood. Perhaps the barriers between you and Gale were beginning to crumble, one stolen glance and shared moment at a time.

[moeitsu]

Ch 19 is so goddamn long. I'd apologize but I find that I can't. I really love this chapter. I will say sorry for the delay though. I've started work again and I'm in the middle of planning a house party. So as a token of my appreciation for your patience, here's another snippet of Ch 19.

Slight NSFW ahead ;)

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

"What were you dreaming of this morning?" She whispered, curiosity coloring her words as they moved in perfect sync.

"You," came his husky reply, his breath warm against her ear. "I always dream of you."

Her smile deepened, her heart dancing to the same rhythm as their steps. "And was I wearing this dress in your dreams?" she flirted, her body swaying enticingly against his.

Arthur’s grin was both mischievous and endearing. "Not exactly," he murmured, his eyes glinting with a hint of devilry. "You wore something very different."

Intrigued, she leaned closer, her voice a soft tease. "Oh? And what might that have been?"

"Me," he growled softly, his voice low and seductive, drawing a delighted shiver from Kate as they continued to waltz under the starlit sky.

Arthur's voice was a seductive murmur, laced with raw desire, as he leaned in close, his breath warm against Kate's ear. "Do you want to know what I'm thinking about right now?" he whispered, his hands tightening on her waist as he drew her closer into his embrace.

Kate's heart pounded in her chest, her skin tingling with anticipation. She nodded, her voice a mere whisper, "Yes."

Arthur's fingers traced a line up her spine, sending shivers cascading down her body. He dipped his head, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her neck, inhaling deeply. "I'm thinking about how stunning you're going to look laid out beneath me," he breathed out, his words painting a vivid, enticing picture. "I imagine you on my sheets, your skin glowing in the dim light, your hair spread out like a wild mane, your lips tender and flushed from my kisses."

Her eyes fluttered shut, lost in the fantasy he described. "Your eyes," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky growl, "dark with longing, just like they are now. I think about the soft moans you’ll make, the ones that drive me wild, make me desperate to be inside you."

Kate’s breath caught in her throat, her body instinctively pressing closer to his. The garden, the music, the murmur of the guests faded into the background, overshadowed by the intensity of the moment between them.

"And I think about how fiercely we’ll make love," Arthur added, his hands sliding down to grip her hips, pulling her against him. "How you’ll claw at my back, pulling me deeper, your body welcoming me home. How tight and perfect you’ll feel around me, and how with each thrust, you’ll moan my name until it’s etched into the night air."

Overwhelmed by his words, Kate's knees weakened, her entire being alight with desire. Arthur steadied her, his gaze intense and full of promise. "I can’t wait any longer, Kate," he declared, a resolute edge to his voice. "Tonight, I will have you. Completely and utterly. No interruptions, no holding back. Just you and me, lost in each other until dawn."

The certainty in his tone, the undeniable hunger in his eyes, left her breathless. This was a side of Arthur she had glimpsed but never fully experienced—passionate, possessive, and profoundly in love with her.