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mv1simp · 6 days

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High For This ♥️

Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader

you don’t know what’s in store, but you know what you’re here for (trust me girl, you’ll wanna be high for this)

You’re celebrating your P2 out at a London club, hoping the shots you’re taking drown out the annoyance at having lost to your rival, Max Verstappen, yet again. But there’s something a little extra in the tequila tonight that has you set afire for the Dutch Lion. He’s all too happy to put the pretty Ferrari princess in her place - right underneath him.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark!max, sub! Reader, aphrodisiac use, breeding kink, mention of babytrapping, dubcon, size kink, WC 3.7k

The music in the nightclub is head pounding, the loud bass sending vibrations along the dancefloor and up your petite frame. It’s hard to keep track of where your friends have gone amongst all the flashing neon lights and you have to use all your energy to focus on keeping them in sight.

You hadn’t expected to go this crazy tonight, truly. It was meant to be a relaxed night out at dinner with a few friends to celebrate your P2 today in Silverstone. An outstanding result for Ferrari’s first female driver, and anyone else would be celebrating grandly for ending up on the podium as a rookie instead of having a lowkey night! But the victory was bittersweet for you as P1 had been stolen by an….aggressive driver who’d almost slammed you into the walls when you tried to go overtake him. Max Verstappen, Redbull’s golden boy, wasn’t going to give up his status as reigning champion for anyone - even if she was the latest media sensation as the new, pretty Ferrari driver.

It was so unfair, you thought, how Max always seemed to respectfully drive wheel to wheel with your teammate, Charles. You got that they’d driven together for years but didn’t you deserve to be treated with some goddamn respect too? You’d earned your seat, after all, having leaped through endless hoops and battles to get your position and ranking consistently each race! But even though both the Ferrari drivers could make Max sweat, he only seemed to care about his childhood rival, Charles.

Meanwhile, anytime you’d try to sweetly smile at him in the post race debrief and congratulate him, he would ignore you completely at best - or look like he wanted to cut off the conversation at worst. He was probably just a sore loser who couldn’t handle feeling threatened by a girl, you thought sourly a couple races ago when he yet again ignored you, acting as if you didn’t exist but animatedly laughing with your teammate.

So you’d pushed down any feelings of awe or admiration you’d once had growing up for the Dutch Lion and traded them in to throw shady insults and catty comments in the post race interviews. They definitely didn’t go unnoticed by the media, who had a field day with the normally perfect Ferrari princess finally giving them something to gossip about - her star crossed rivalry with the reigning Redbull champion who’s started to turn his stormy gaze on you with the recent change in your attitude. If he was going to just ignore you either way, you thought smugly after your post-race interview today, you might as well have some fun with it.

Tonight you were dragged out by your friends to at least enjoy a nice dinner after P2 - even though you’d been upset about missing out on P1 again. But dinner had turned into cocktails, and then into hopping around a few bars, and finally you’d ended up in a popular booming nightclub, littered with socialites and many of the F1 paddock personalities - even your fellow Ferrari driver. Charles had come upto congratulate you when you arrived, even though you could tell from the clench of his jaw he hadn’t been happy with a rookie outperforming him today. See, you thought brattily. If even your teammate could put his ego aside why did the Redbull champion have to act so up himself?

Your friends distracted you from your tension by handing you a shot. Feeling quite sober, you’d easily slammed it back, and then were handed another. You swear you hadn’t had anymore than that, knowing you were in a very large, popular club with phones trained on you as a pretty F1 driver.

Yet you found yourself feeling heady in the lights and sweat of the neon club, head thumping to the rhythm of the bass as you twirled your body to the beat. Your friends had thought you were finally letting loose and had excitedly gone to get more drinks, and deposited you at Charles’s side while they went to the bar. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a handsome, tall figure at your teammate’s side, intently listening as his muscled forearm nursed a beer. Max.

You can’t resist the scowl on your face as you recognise him. When both drivers immediately turn to you, you realise that you’d accidentally said his name out loud. Oops. Just ignore me. Like you usually do.

Charles glances between you two, somewhat amused, as Max’s eyes narrow at the overly sweet tone that don’t blunt your bratty words. Before your teammate could intervene, his phone rings, with his girlfriend Alex’s photo popping onto the screen. Making you promise to wait here for your friends, Charles takes off into the crowd to find his girl.

You sighed deeply as you watched him go, leaning your head against your palm as you leaned against the counter. Your body felt so heavy suddenly, as if you couldn’t support it anymore. Strange, you really hadn’t thought you’d drunk that much…

Max chuckles lowly next to you. Maybe the precious Ferrari princess just can’t handle her alcohol. You did only have two drinks, after all.

You try to snap your head towards him and glare, but your movements feel sluggish. What, are stalking me now, Verstappen?

For some reason you’re feeling hotter now, almost by the second, fanning yourself despite the cute matching miniskirt and cropped long sleeve set you were wearing. The very picture of the pretty princess you’d been nicknamed, of course, your lush figure and caramel skin highlighted by the revealing and tight outfit. Max is watching you intently, tilting his head to the side. With a start you realize he’s never focused that icy blue gaze directly into your brown doe eyes before - not that you’d noticed, at least. It makes you feel even hotter, pink flush spreading across your chubby cheeks as you dazedly look up at the much taller and broader Dutchman.

Then he’s asking if you want to go somewhere quieter, cool down. You faintly remember promising Charles you’d stay at the bar for your friends but in the moment you take to hesitate, Max has taken your small hand in his and lead you through the crowd. His warm skin against yours makes you feel even hotter, a fire now spreading through your body. You’ve never felt like this before, stumbling in your strappy heels but his strong, vein arm is immediately around your waist and pulling you into him.

Max, you say breathily, letting your head fall against his broad chest as he easily guided you into a secluded hallway. His heartbeat against your ear sounds sounds so much calmer and slower than your rapidly beating one. You feel so desperate for something, but you don’t know what. You close your eyes for a second because your eyelids feel so heavy, and then you’re being lowered onto a sofa, the amazing relief of an aircon blowing across your tanned skin.

You can’t help but moan at the sensation, pretty nipples hardening in the chill and your back arching to bring yourself closer to the cool air as your head lies back. When you’re finally able to open your eyes, you see Max sitting next to you, his icy blue eyes still fixed on your cute blushing face, on your thick, glossy lips that were now parted and breathing heavily. You’re in some sort of private VIP booth, you realise slowly, the door firmly closed behind Max, with the neon red lighting and thumping bass making it clear the club was on the other side.

You feel like you’re forgetting something but it takes all your energy to focus on what it is. Oh! That’s right - I need to tell my frie-friends where I went, you say, feeling out of breath, looking down for your phone but seeing it’s nowhere in sight. Max takes a slow swig of his beer, his gaze also wandering down your body, taking in the way your generous curves were on display in the slutty outfit you’d worn instead of your race suit for once. Already told them, he says casually. They already left to the next club, said they’d meet you there once you’d…settled down a bit.

Oh. You blink, still flushed, your throat feeling parched. Can-can I have some water then, Max?

He smirks. You’re so much cuter when you’re all shy like this. Go on then, get your water.

He gestures behind him, where a pitcher of cool water sits - but with the wall on one side of you and a table directly in front, you have no choice but to go over Max who’s blocking you in. Normally, you would’ve just stood up, or even told him to fuck off and get you the water. But you feel so heavy, so clouded, that it just feels right to just crawl over Max’s legs, to reach past him and grab the jug with a hand…

You’re gulping down the refreshing water, feeling temporary relief to the dryness in your throat. When you finally put the jug down you find that you’re firmly in Max’s lap, your plush thighs straddling his hips and his large hands gripping onto your soft waist. You can’t quite remember just how you ended up like this, so you whine a little and wiggle your hips to try you slide off him. But his grip tightens, angling you forward so that you can feel something very large and hard pressed up against your skirt. He’s eyeing your tits hungrily, your nipples so painfully hard now that the edge of them are peeking out over the top of your neckline. Max licks his smirking lips. Feeling a little hot, Princess? He coos. Do your pretty little tits hurt? Want me to make them feel better?

You quickly shake your head, your pride still standing strong, not sure what he’s talking about when he says he can take away the pain -

But then he’s moving your small body easily against his hard on, his powerful hands controlling your hips. You whine then because oh, this is what he meant, it feels so good, Maxie. Your tiny palms latch onto his muscled shoulders as sparks shoot up your cunny from the delicious friction of his jeans pressing into your soaked panties. You’ve never felt this sensitive before, felt so responsive to someone’s touch…but of course Max would be able to do this. He was just so good at everything. He was the driver you’d always had a childhood crush on - that apparently hadn’t faded away as you bury your whining mouth into his thick, muscular neck, suckling and biting weakly. He chuckles, his large ands greedily roaming across your barely clothed back, sending shivers everytime his skin touched yours. It’s so hot, Maxie, I feel like I’m burning-

When he sweetly whispers that he could take your clothes off, just the outer layer of course, he’d let you keep your bra and panties on. You’re nodding obediently, even the act of moving your heavy head feels too much and grateful he’s here to help you take your miniskirt and crop top off and toss them to the side.

If you were a bit more alert you might realize that you’re now in your rival’s lap, jumping and grinding on his jeans in your cute white lace lingerie. But instead all you can focus on is how good grinding against his impressive hard on feels, mmh, oh my god, even your vibrator couldn’t make you so wet-

Max laughs in your ear. He teasingly asks if your fans know about your little toy, wasn’t that too naughty for their perfect princess to use? He didn’t believe it…unless you told him exactly what you fantasized about when using it, hmm?

The heady feeling from the drinks, from the tension, from Max’s addictive touch sending sparks all over your body as he squeezes your plump ass, has you spilling secrets you never thought you would. About how you’d always think of a certain blonde Dutchman when using your tiny bullet vibrator, biting your lip and imagining how much more exciting the post race interview would be if you two had some other physical way of proving who deserved to win….

You can barely keep track of what’s happening next because the pleasure you’re feeling is already so overwhelming. You can only think about how good you feel, of how Max is huskily whispering that he knows, Princess, what you always wanted because he’d heard you through your hotel walls moaning his name.

You’re so caught up in it all you’re not sure how you ended up panting into Max’s mouth, his tongue shoved deep past your lips as he languidly explores your mouth to his liking. And dazedly you realize your hands are gripping onto his bare shoulders as he’s shirtless now, your soft chest all flushed up against his hard pecs. At least you were wearing your underwear, so it wasn’t that bad-

You finally notice that your lacey bra is actually nowhere in sight, and your bare, juicy tits are now bouncing up against him with each grind. And at some point your cute panties have been ripped in half, hanging on by shreds as Max’s teasing fingers are now toying with your dripping slit from behind.

You squeal, completely startled at the new position, embarrassed that you’re so wet, you hadn’t even known you could do that - so Max lifts you up to throw his jeans to the side because you were making such a mess, Princess. Your mouth eagerly finds his, the deep passionate kiss providing some mind numbing relief to the burning desire you feel. Filthy sounds fill the air - from your kissing, you think dreamily. But you’re so wet you hadn’t even noticed his thick fingers slipping inside until he was buried deep, pumping them in and out of your tight cunny easily.

Within seconds he has you cumming, spraying slick everywhere and making Max smack your ass aggressively as punishment for making such a mess all over his lap. You tear up at his mocking tone, your wide doe eyes pleading for his mercy. He tells you there’s only one way you can make it upto him, a wicked smile on his face as he rubs your pouting thick lips.

That’s how you end up with his cock shoved down your throat, choking and drooling on it as he moans and praises you. Sitting on your generous ass in between his spread thighs, your tiny palms rapidly jerk off his base while you worship his cockhead. You don’t think you’ve ever enjoyed sucking a cock as much as this in your entire life, your pussy continuously gushing and leaving slick all over the dirty club floor. You blush prettily when he tangles his hands through your dark curls, thrusting his hips to fuck your eager mouth.

Things are getting hazier and hazier and your eyes can’t keep themselves open, so overwhelmed from all the sensations and dirty sounds that sounds straight of a porn video filling the air. When you blink them open them again, you’re lying on your back on the sofa, looking up at the dim red lights dazedly. And then you feel the delicious mind numbing pleasure in between your legs, and look down to see Max grunting as he thrusts something thick and veiny in between your spread thighs, sweat dripping down his abs.

It takes you a few seconds to realize that it’s his cock, all thick and angry looking, that he’s bullying into your pussy - making you take him completely raw. Somewhere in the back of your mind you feel like something’s wrong, like maybe he’s forgetting something. But it feels so good that you’re squirting again all over him, throwing your head back and squeezing your eyes shut while he praises you for being such a good, obedient little girl…why weren’t you like this all the time, hmm?

Your mixed juices have ruined the sofa beyond any hopes of repair. Max will have to leave a cheque behind for the clubowner, he thinks wickedly. But that’s for later. For now, he only cares about your twitching, sensitive body underneath him that he’s meanly abusing to pleasure his cock. Your tiny cunny is stretched impossibly wide, so much that it should hurt but instead it feels so addictive, making you pant ah, ah! even in your semi lucid state.

Max grins devilishly as his gaze shifts from your glazed eyes to watch the messy sight of himself sliding in and out of you. He looks even hotter to you in the red neon lighting, all sculpted jawline and his muscled, broad figure highlighted above your much smaller body. He’s gripping you by the hips to move you up and down his length, watching your drooling pussy cover his aching cock in your sticky sweet cum, a creamy white ring forming around his base.

It feels so fuckin’ good you whine, your head lost in cloud 9 of sinful pleasure. You’re confused because you know you’ve already cum twice, and normally would feel so overstimulated by now. But the desire and raw lust is just getting stronger and stronger. It’s all cause you’ve been ignoring how attractive you’ve always found the blonde currently having his way with you, your blissed out brain convinces. So when Max presses down, and you can feel his warm chest up against your bouncing tits, and you wrap your arms around his thick neck and desperately beg him for more.

He smirks, pleased with your obedience, and doesn’t hesitate to ask you to use your words, Princess, making you spell out how you wanted him to fuck you harder, please, you felt like you were going to die if you didn’t cum-

Max makes sure to give you exactly what you so sweetly asked, your cute face flushed and breathless as you gazed adoringly up at him with hearts in your eyes. Your throat becomes raw from how much you scream his name without any regard for who might hear as you reach your high, squirting on his cock, for the third time that night. Your fucked our body finally passes out and you’re sinking into a blissful sleep, finally satisfied. But you don’t know that you’re still split open with him deep inside you as he selfishly chases his own high. His large palms greedily roam all over your pliable body on display under him, biting your soft skin to mark his territory.

The next time you open your brown doe eyes, you’re in an unfamiliar dark room, sprawled across a comfortable white bed. An alarm clock tells you it’s well into the next morning, and you’re sure your manager is furious with the morning debrief you missed hours ago. You’re confused again, not sure how you ended up here, and then your mind catches up to feel a warm and large body pressed into you from behind. Their strong arms are caged around you, so strong that you can’t move, their toned chest rising with every breath they take in deep sleep.

You let out a panicked gasp, the earlier desperation between your thighs now gone intense and replaced with fear at the unknown location, at the unknown man who’s behind you-

Shhhh, prinses, a deep, familiar Dutch voice sleepily murmurs in your ear. It’s just me, hmm?

You immediately relax, a pretty blush spreading across your face as it turns out you’d gone home with the handsome Redbull champion. He hums, the low sound vibrating across your neck and making somehow making desire bloom in your gut despite how thoroughly you’d been fucked last night.

You find yourself teasingly pressing your juicy ass behind you, grinding on his impressive morning wood. He growls, still half asleep himself, but when you brattily grind harder he rewards you with his wandering large hands. You eagerly moan as he squeezes your luscious tits and rolls your pretty dusky nipples in between his fingers, letting out a squeal when he occasionally pinches them.

Soon enough the air is filled with the raunchy sounds of your cunny being used as Max’s hands slide down your hickey covered hips and he sinks a finger into your wet heat. You’re so impossibly wet, and you can’t tell what’s yours and what’s his. Did y-you cum last night Maxie? You ask breathlessly. You’re getting deja vú, as hazy memories of last night surface. You used a condom, right?

He stop your anxious questions by sliding his tongue back into your pouting mouth, darkly promising you that he’d tried to put on the condom, really, but you’d begged and begged him to cum inside, remember? You kept asking to be filled up until it dripped down your legs cause there was so much of it.

You flush furiously at his words, embarrassed of your earlier slutty actions and obediently buried your teary face into the pillow when he pressed down on your head. You let him replace his fingers with his raging erection instead, grunting with each thrust that rocks your petite form underneath him. The silk pillowcase is quickly ruined with your tears and drooling tongue as he presses a heavy palm in between your shoulder blades and practically fucks you into the mattress.

And when Max finally tenses above you, panting into your ear and gripping your ass as he presses his weight down on you from behind, your pussy twitches and spasms as he floods your walls again with his gooey, thick cum. It tastes so good so good, too you think when he sinks his fingers into your folds and makes you lick them clean.

Safe to say, the Dutch Lion had ruined the precious Ferrari Princess for good and left her craving his thick creampies. The sight of you diligently taking your pill every morning as he watched you from his bed, early Monaco sunshine filling it as your scandalous affair continued well after the season, regularly filled Max with annoyance.

But the dark look on his face always disappears by the time you’re crawling back into his strong arms and nuzzling your face into his neck.

Maybe one of these days he’d have to replace your little pills with some of his own again to keep you off the grid and in his bed…permanently. You’d look so pretty knocked up with a Verstappen brat, after all.

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A/N: I can never resist an enemies with sexual tension with max he’s just so coded for that. Thank you all for the amazing requests I am buzzing with ideas, lmk what you think of this!! 🫶

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 imagine #max verstappen x you #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #18+ mdni #dark max verstappen #dark smut #f1 driver reader #f1 fic

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theonewiththefanfics · 10 months

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Homecoming (one-shot)

Synopsys: When Y/N goes missing during a simple supply run, she comes back with world-shattering news for Astarion. News he never thought to hear, and now he has a decision to make, one that will shift his life on its axis once more.

Set after the main events of BG3

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, a bit of SMUT, but nothing explicit

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit, kidnapping

Word count: 8397

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

Part 2(ish) - Love Conquers All (one-shot)

A home was not something to ever be taken for granted, that much they had learned during their adventures.

A home was a fire slowly crackling in the hearth, warmth expanding through the living room. A home was Astarion sitting on a loveseat, a book in his hands while he waited for his love to finish puttering around in the kitchen. A home was drying tea leaves and making preserves for the coming winter as she shooed him out, saying that his fussing would only hinder her process.

He’d huffed, puffed and whined, trying to make Y/N pull away from her plans just so they could curl up and read together, but she was adamant.

“I’ve already started.” She dropped an orange peel and pressed some lemon juice into the steaming pot. “It’ll be wasted produce if I just leave it now.”

“But it will take you hours!” Astarion whined like a child and even stomped his foot, making her snort.

“And it will take me twice as long if you don’t stop annoying me.” Y/N threw him a saccharine smile over her shoulder, batting her lashes at the pouting vampire. “Now, be a good boy, and quit pestering me. We’ll have all the time in the world, once I’m done.”

Astarion just groaned, going up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist, the incisors he usually sank into her neck now nipping at her lobe. “I can be a very good boy if you only let me prove it.”

“My love, you will be getting absolutely no sex from me, if you don’t let me at least finish this batch.” A shiver rushed down her spine as he licked at her neck, so close to that sweet spot he always used as a place to bite and drink from. But she had to be strong. The jams wouldn’t make themselves. “Every additional minute you keep me from this will be an additional day of your dry spell.”

The vampire spawn jumped back from her as if he’d been scalded, scarlet eyes narrowing in on her. “You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t last an hour!”

Y/N turned around, crossing her arms as a devious smile bloomed on her lips, a brow raised in challenge. “Would you like to test those waters?”

Astarion stood, staring her down. His crimson gaze was blazing from underneath his lashes, but she didn’t budge. They’d played this game for close to three years as a couple now, and she’d learned very quickly – Astarion was very much so a cat. But especially – he was a cat that liked to knock things over while keeping direct eye contact with you, though the second you placed a palm underneath whatever it was he wanted for to fall, all his need for chaos disappeared. It just wasn’t fun anymore.

For twenty long seconds, Y/N and her pale elven lover didn’t break, hoping the other would crumble and be announced as the loser, but part of what he loved about her, was her stubbornness. It was because of that part of her personality, she’d stuck by him when his doubts had crept in, when his own mind called him worthless and not good enough for her, almost as if to spite those vicious words in his mind. She didn’t give up on the people she loved, and as luck would have it, Astarion owned her heart.

But Y/N also knew how to handle a cat like him, so just after a few more tense moments, his eye twitched, and he huffed in defeat.

“Fine,” he scoffed. “But if you are not done by sundown, I shall have no other option but to drag you away from the stove. Kicking and screaming preferred.”

Y/N simply shook her head, and went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling the man into a deep, breathless kiss, but not before nipping at his bottom lip, dragging the piece of flesh between her teeth and making him let out a desperate moan. “I’ll even let you tie me up if you wish to do so.”

Astarion’s pupils almost swallowed the red irises in a matter of seconds, as he threw his head back in a groan. “My love, you’re absolutely killing me here.”

“Then I hope whatever punishment you deem fit for me, will be just oh, so sweet.” Y/N stepped back, untangling herself from him, but the mischievousness in her eyes didn’t lessen.

She could see how the words tortured him, how it took every single last piece of his fraying self-control, to not rip off her apron and the clothes underneath and just lay her down on the kitchen table, legs spread with his mouth licking into her until she orgasmed.

With eyes holding nothing but pure lust and hands clenching and unclenching, Astarion retreated. Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t hot and bothered and absolutely dripping between her thighs, and the thought of finishing those jams was the last thing on her mind, but she did have to do it. If only to keep him waiting longer, knowing whatever his beautiful brain was cooking up would leave her screaming and shaking for hours.

They’d been growing their own vegetables and fruits, Y/N tending to them during the nights to spend more time with Astarion as he fussed over his flower gardens, so it would simply be wasteful to leave their berries to rot. The year had been very generous and offered a variety of things to gather, so a while back, she’d decided to pickle some of the tomatoes and cucumbers, turn another batch of peppers and tomatillos into sauces while the sweeter things would be turned into syrups and jams.

Y/N shook her head, trying to clear it from the haze of lust, as the aroma of lemons and cranberries, raspberries and oranges wafted all around, encasing her in the scent. She was just about to add the sugar when the tin rattled with the sound of the last grains left.

Her brow furrowed as she opened the lid and looked inside. Sure, enough it was empty.

The woman huffed. She was absolutely positive she’d gotten the right amount during the last trip, but somewhere along the way it seemed a miscalculation had happened, and now she had to get more. Y/N would have asked Astarion, and had the sun dipped below the horizon, he would have jumped at the request, but alas his little vampiric predicament forbade him from walking during the day, the sun still high in the sky from what she could see through a tiny slit in the shutters.

Quickly, Y/N snuffed out the flame below the pot, untied her dirtied apron and grabbed a basket from the pantry, tying a pouch of coins to her side. She only needed sugar, but maybe she would grab some other necessities as well. They were low on Astarion’s favourite wine, one he claimed didn’t taste like vinegar at least.

“I’m off to the market really quick,” Y/N announced as she peeked into the living room, taking in Astarion as he flipped a page in a book. “Do you want anything?”

“No, my love.” He looked at her like a love-sick puppy. “Just your darling self back as quick as you can. I have picked up some… inspiration for your punishment if you will. Just as you suggested, of course.” He closed the book, showing the cover to her.

Heat crawled all over her body as she read the title, one of her smuttier romances she had started to read, and when she could do nothing but gulp and nod, his smile turned from a sweet one into a wicked-fanged thing. It was all she needed to know whatever awaited her once she was done would leave her unable to walk. Gods, she needed to finish this whole thing up as quickly as she could.

Y/N was out the doors like the wind, the usual stroll to the market cut from half an hour into a brisk fifteen-minute jog, the thoughts of the man waiting back home for her at the forefront of her mind.

The needed sugar, some coffee beans, a loaf of fresh bread, Astarion’s wine and some sour cream were all bought in quick succession, Y/N didn’t even try to haggle. Her eyes drifted across various stalls and merchants and she almost deemed it done when her gaze caught onto a rose seedling. It was a beautiful bloom with blood-red petals that whitened at the very tips. She smiled and went to buy it. Astarion would love the symbolism even if a bit too on the nose.

Once satisfied with everything, Y/N marched across the market and was back on the road to home. It was a humble little house they’d purchased with whatever had been left in their pockets after all was said and done with the tadpoles, but Astarion had bigger plans. This was only a temporary situation.

“I want a whole room full of books. Nothing but books from one end to the other and then some,” he’d confided in Y/N one night after both were panting and spent from multiple rounds of bringing the other to ecstasy.

“And a large ballroom,” he continued, and Y/N couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped her.

“A ballroom? And what will we do with that?”

“Why, have grand balls, of course!” He threw his hands up in the air as if her question was preposterous.

“Star…” Y/N tilted her head to look up at him from where she was lying on his naked chest. “You hate people. A ballroom full of them – it would be your literal nightmare.”

“I don’t hate people.”

“I don’t count.”

“Alright,” he conceded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. Y/N placed her palm atop where his heart was and rested her chin on it, looking deep into his eyes. “I hate most people, simply dislike them, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a get-together, from time to time. Maybe… maybe see our friends. Catch up on how they’re doing. I absolutely despise to admit this and will say you are lying if you ever mention it to anyone, but I – I miss them… even Gale…”

A gentle smile lifted her lips as she brushed a wild curl out of his face and tucked it behind his pointy ear. “I think I’d really like that too.”

His eyes were so soft and full of love, that Y/N swore she could feel his heart beating once more in his chest, thudding against her palm in a confession of adoration.

She was almost out of the city by that point, already on the small, secluded road leading to their house which lay on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate right by the edges of the woods, so Astarion had easier access to game in between feeding on her when her attention was drawn back by someone calling out.

“Miss!” the voice, male she made out, yelled after her. “Miss, please wait!”

Instantly, her guard was up, but when a breathless man, looking to be in his late sixties appeared from behind a copse of trees, she somewhat relaxed. Y/N was still cautious, but if anything, she had a dagger holstered against her thigh. She was always prepared.

“Miss,” he gasped out, leaning his hands against his knees to catch his breath. “Miss, you are a quick one. I’ve been calling for you since by the rose stalls."

“Oh, I – I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you!” Y/N said but didn’t move forward. “How can I help?”

He huffed, as if regaining her breath, before fishing out a piece of fabric from his pocket, and extending it towards her. “You dropped this by the flowers.”

When she took a closer look at what he was holding, it seemed to be some sort of a silk scarf. She narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t own silk scarves and definitely hadn’t worn one on such a warm day. “You must have mixed me up with someone, as it’s not mine. Sorry, for you to have troubled yourself like this.”

“No.” The man furrowed his brow, taking a step closer. “I am fairly certain I saw you drop it. Such a fine piece… didn’t want you to lose it.”

Y/N took a step back, angling herself in a defensive position with the basket in front of her. She didn’t like the tone he was speaking in, nor the way his eyes seemed to be appraising her. “No,” she asserted. “It’s not mine.”

His back stiffened, eyes growing cold, the grip on the scarf tightening as he hummed. “Well… a pity then.”

She took another step back, but he was already lunging at her.

Dropping the basket to the ground, she reached for the knife strapped at her thigh, but he was quick as a viper as she hadn’t even noticed when a rope appeared in his hands, lashing it at her. Years of having fought had kept her agile and aware, but years of domestic bliss with Astarion had dulled her senses a bit.

The rope caught and wrapped around her ankle, knocking her to the ground. Y/N’s teeth clattered and snapped, her tongue almost in between them, but as he rushed to pin her down, she twisted her leg around the rope and pulled, making the man lose his balance and stumble.

It was enough for her to swipe her leg underneath his, and send him sprawling. It was enough for her to untangle her legs and roll away as he snapped it at her head. Her clothes were dirty as was her face, but it didn’t matter. She’d cover herself in blood if needed.

It was almost animalistic how she pounced – teeth bared, a snarl ripping from her throat and hands forming claws as if she would gouge at his face with just his nails, but as her palm brushed her thigh, unclipping the holster for her dagger, Y/N didn’t see the man had crouched on his knee and swung the cord.

It knocked the air out of her, as it wrapped around her chest, and he pulled her down, hard. Her ribs were screaming as the tether tightened and tightened with every pull, but as she thought this would be it, something strange happened – instead of offering her the killing blow, he opened a palm, now covered in a leather glove, and blew the contents of it onto her face.

Y/N coughed and sputtered, but whatever it was, was fast-acting and her lungs, still incapable of proper breathing due to the rope couldn’t expel it. In just a few seconds, the bright day around her turned into darkness.

She didn’t know how long she was unconscious for, but enough time had passed to dry out her throat. Or was that a side effect of whatever was blown into her face? In any case, as she slowly came to, Y/N noted there was a soft mattress under her body, which was an oddity for someone kidnapped. She could even tell the dagger was still by her thigh, the comforting weight of the blade pressed under her. Even weirder, if you asked her, to not disarm your victims.

Darkness still encompassed her, but the soft cloth against her cheeks told her she hadn’t permanently lost her vision, but with her sight obscured, she had to rely on her ears. That’s when voices invaded her senses.

There were three people somewhere further away, most likely in a different room if taken by how muffled the words were. She focused harder on what they were saying.

Two men and a female, Y/N differentiated, when the woman spoke.

“This is not what we agreed upon!” she hissed, and a grumbly-sounding man scoffed.

“You said to get her to you. I did. You never specified how.” It was the same man who’d knocked her out.

“We want her to help us!” A different male voice, this one softer, even kinder, rebutted. “I highly doubt kidnapping is a good incentive for that!”

“Look,” her assailant said. “I fulfilled my end of the deal. She is unhurt, maybe she'll sport a couple of bruises and a headache, but that is her own fault. She could have come willingly but didn’t. Other than that, though – she is completely fine. Now you do your part!”

As the trio argued between themselves, more angry whispers than shouting, Y/N started to shimmy her hands which had been bound, out of the restraints. She had a good inclination they needed her alive but had no want of staying as a prisoner.

Though her fighting skills seemed to have mellowed, which she was not happy about, even a couple of years without mortally dangerous adventures, hadn’t changed how quickly she could slip her wrists from their bindings. Astarion might need to get more creative during their debauchery.

Y/N froze the second she heard a door open and shut, two pairs of footsteps moving closer and closer to where she was. Her breathing was shallow and almost imperceptible, as she tried to make it look like she was still unconscious.

She could sense two bodies enter the room and one move to stand where she faced, the other going to her back.

Y/N tensed. In just a few moments, whoever was behind her, would notice her undone binds. But she’d be ready.

“Darling, please be careful,” the woman said, a tremble in her voice.

Good. Let them be scared.

“Don’t worry,” the man replied. “I’ll just make sure she’s – what in the -”

But Y/N was already up, the blindfold off and ready to pounce. This time, she’d have the upper hand.

For a second, the light in the room blinded her, but her sight refocused fast enough to take in her captors’ faces.

The woman was beautiful, with high rosy cheekbones, and jade green eyes so vivid they looked like actual gemstones. Her hair was long and dark, down to her waist while grey strands seemed to have invaded the brown tresses in some places, but she was still ethereally gorgeous, her pointy ears covered in piercings.

Y/N snapped out of the shock quicker and using this to her advantage, she was behind her in a matter of a blink, her dagger pressed tight against her throat.

A gasp entered her ears, but she just pressed the blade harder, making her whimper.

“Please!” the man made her look at him, but instead of bracing for an attack, he had his hands up in surrender. “Please don’t hurt her! We just want to talk.”

“Funny way of having a conversation you’ve got there.” Y/N tightened her grip on the knife, surveying the man. Again, those same pointed ears, but his eyes were the most brilliant blue she’d ever seen and his face was marred with more age lines than the woman’s, yet he still was as gorgeous as she. “Typically, only my enemies would knock me out and tie me up before spilling their grand plans. But I will be kind and give you a choice – what would you like to be – friends or foes?”

“Friends! Friends! Please! We – we’re looking for our son!” the elven man pleaded. “And we – we heard a rumour that you might know him. Have even seen him.”

Y/N narrowed her Y/E/C eyes, piercing his with her gaze. “I’ve known and seen a lot of people. Usually, others just ask me about them, they don’t have someone kidnap me.”

“And we’re sorry, we’re so very sorry, but we had to make sure you came. It went too far and we apologise, but please…” He took in a deep breath, worried eyes flipping between his partner and her. “Our son – his name is Astarion. Astarion Ancunin. Have you – do you know of him?”

Hearing his name, knocked the breath out of her as if they’d snapped a rope around her chest again, making her stumble back. Her grip on the woman released, and she used the moment to leap over to her partner, using the bed as a buffer. He instantly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her half behind his back, but not before checking if Y/N’s dagger had pierced the skin.

Tears brimmed in the eleven woman’s green eyes as she looked at her, not even caring that just a moment before she was so close to having her blood dripping on the floor. “Please,” she whispered. “I – I know we didn’t go about it the right way, but please… is it true he’s alive?”

"I,” Y/N stammered, her gaze snapping back and forth between the two.

Astarion.

They were Astarion’s parents.

Even after all this time, they were searching for their missing son.

Y/N should have noticed the details – how the woman had a small mole on her cheek right where Astarion did, how the shape of the man’s eyes was the exact same as his son’s. Astarion even had the same high cheekbones as his mother while his sharp jaw was that of his father.

What had his eyes been like before? Green like his mother’s or the sky blue of his father's? What had he been like as a child? No doubt as mischievous and scheme-prone as he was now, but who had he gotten it from? So many different questions rattled through Y/N’s brain as she kept glancing back and forth, before shaking her head and pulling her out of the shocked stupor.

“You – you’re Ancunins?” She had to ask. Had to make sure she hadn’t overheard them or maybe hallucinating because of the powder she’d inhaled.

“Yes.” The woman nodded, brushing tears from under her eyes. “Our son has been missing for more than two hundred years, and we almost lost hope until… until we heard about you and your company a few years back. How one of the party members resembled our little Star so much.”

They hadn’t been inconspicuous, though they had tried, so it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that tales of their adventures had gone far and wide, especially after saving Baldur’s Gate, killing Cazador and the absolute, and Gods know how many other evils along the way. But she never thought Astarion’s parents would have heard of it.

In fact, Astarion had barely even mentioned them over the years, and, for whatever reason, Y/N had concluded they must have passed, despite knowing elves lived extremely long lives. Had he maybe tried to find them on his own and couldn’t? Or had he forgotten about them?

Until Astarion and Y/N had become an official couple and she’d commissioned a portrait of him as a gift on an anniversary, he hadn’t even seen himself in two centuries. He’d forgotten what he looked like. It didn’t seem too crazy to assume, the memories of his parents’ names or their faces, might’ve slipped away as well, or even the love they had for him. Especially knowing how deeply Cazador had ruined that notion for him.

She needed to get home. She needed to see Astarion, and then she could figure out what to do.

“I need to go.” Y/N nodded to herself, muttering under her breath. “I need to think.”

“No, please!” the woman lunged, trying to grasp at her, but she had a knife pointed at her chest in an instant, making the elf shrivel back, but still, she pleaded. “Please help us. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate! If you can’t help, who will?”

“I promise I will do my best,” Y/N said. “But I need time… I – I need to figure all of this out.”

Her mind was swirling like a hurricane, but the man interrupted her breakdown as she realised how pretty much her in-laws, had kidnapped her. “At least tell us this – is – is it true he is alive? Or have we travelled across Faerun under the pretences of false hope?”

In truth, Y/N wanted to take them by the arms and drag them to her house, but whether Astarion wanted to reach out and reconnect, was up to him. That sort of a choice was not hers to make, but she could grant them this one request.

“He is.” Y/N nodded.

And then she left as quickly as she could because if she had to stand there and watch as the elves crumbled into one another, cries of relief and joy escaping into the slowly setting day, she would crumble too. Their faces were already permanently burned into her mind, and she needed a moment to process everything.

By a stroke of luck or fate, Y/N instantly recognised she was in the woods on the other side of Baldur’s Gate, so retracing her steps to the market was fairly easy even though the whole way back home, she was pretty much stumbling around in a daze, knocking into people and tripping over her own two legs.

Her discarded basket was right where she’d left it, gold coins scattered around it. The pouch must’ve broken during the struggle. Y/N made sure to pick every single piece up and was more than relieved to see, that the rose bloom was still intact.

By the time she arrived, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, and as the last rays warmed her back, she extended her palm to open the door, though she didn’t even get to touch the handle as it was ripped open by a visibly distressed Astarion.

His eyes looked like he’d been crying, his hair as if he’d been relentlessly raking his fingers through the locks and his lower lip so bitten, there was a small hole where one of his incisors had gone through.

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Astairon instantly grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her in a bone-crushing hug, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. “Thank the Gods!”

Y/N dropped the basket over the threshold and closed the door with her foot, her own arms weaving around his middle, a palm soothingly brushing along his side, as he soaked her in.

“I’m alright, Star,” she said, kissing his temple and didn’t even make a noise as he gripped her waist tighter, right where bruises were forming. “I’m sorry I was gone so long, but I’m alright.”

“What happened? You said you’d be quick, but you were gone for hours! And you know what the worst part was – I couldn’t even go out looking for you because of the damned fucking sun!” Astarion cupped her face, turning it this way and that way, trying to find any injuries, but the biggest one would be in her head as she tried to figure out how to explain to him what had happened. “Gods, I am never letting you out of my sight again!”

Y/N indulged the vampire in the hug he pulled her in, holding him against her chest, trying to comfort him, but she was way too consumed with her new findings. Too quickly, as evident by the frown on Astarion’s face, she untangled herself from the embrace, anxiety immediately flashing over his handsome features.

She slid her arms from around his waist to take his palms into hers. “I – I don’t even know how to say this… How do you say something like that?”

Worry instantly marred his brow, and Y/N pressed a practised thumb between them, trying to soothe them away.

“Shit…” he muttered. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No!” She cupped his cheeks. “Astarion you’ve done nothing!”

“Then – then what?” He was tentative, still, scared Y/N might be angry at him. Or worse – wanted to leave, but her next words erased all that doubt.

“I…” She took in a deep breath. “Astarion, I met your parents today.”

Whatever he had expected, clearly that hadn’t been it. Probably a confession she’d met a past love, that their feelings were reignited and she wanted to go with them. But definitely not that.

He blinked once, twice, trice, completely and utterly stupefied before a small whisper of “What?” passed his lips.

“It’s why I’m so late,” Y/N explained. “They’d heard a rumour, that I knew you and had travelled with you during our tadpole situation, and came to me. Astarion, your parents are looking for you…”

A million thoughts seemed to swirl in his head, but Y/N held onto his hand through all of them.

“What,” he cleared his throat, “what did you tell them?”

“That I’d find them once I figured out what to do?”

“Which means?”

“Which means I would come home, give you this information and let you figure out what you’d like to do…”

So many emotions flashed across his face, but Y/N no longer needed that mind flayer tadpole connection it created – Astarion was an open book for her to read.

Joy. Such indisputable joy shone in his scarlet eyes before being consumed by confusion. Then anger and disgust and love, but by the end of it all his heart settled on one feeling – fear.

It’s what it knew best, though Y/N had tried her hardest to reduce it to ashes, yet still it lingered. She understood it, despite not being happy he ever had to feel it.

He feared what to do, what would be the right choice to make, he feared their reactions and what they would say of his disappearance or of his newest… condition. Would they accept him? Or would they be repulsed by him?

“What – what would I even say to them?” Astarion searched her Y/E/C eyes as if they held an answer, but when one magically didn’t appear, he hung his head, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I can’t even remember what they looked like. Their names, the house we used to live in… it’s all a fog.”

Y/N tried to give him an encouraging smile. “Well, your mother – she has the most beautiful green eyes. Like that dress you made for me for Summer Solstice, that same shade. And – and she has a little beauty mark on her cheek.” With a gentle thumb, she brushed over the mole. “Right in that same spot.”

His brows furrowed in concentration; his lips pinched tightly. “I – I remember blue eyes. Not green.”

“That might be your father's. His are azure I’d say. Like the summer sky. Gods, Astarion,” Y/N breathed out. “You look so much like them, but… honestly, the only thing you need to know right now is that they looked relieved.” Her voice was soothing as he tried to find lies in her words, but there would be none. “I didn’t tell them anything apart from the fact that you’re alive, and all I saw was complete and utter relief.”

Y/N placed a strand of hair behind his ear as he pondered. His carmine eyes slid to hers. “Do they want to see me?”

“Yes. It was the whole reason they sought me out because I might have a single scrap of information on you.” She’d mention the kidnapping later. Or maybe never, depending on how everything went. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

“Is it,” he hesitated, as if ashamed to be asking such a question. “Is it alright if I think this over for a bit? I’m just – there’s so much going on in my head…”

“Of course, Star!” Y/N cupped his cheeks and placed a reassuring kiss on his forehead. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, his shoulders dropping, but she just shook her head.

“Nothing to thank me for. Not for this.”

And so, they continued on like that for a few days – Y/N didn’t bring the subject up, but she made sure Astarion knew, she’d be there whenever he needed to talk. Yet her mind couldn’t help but worry about the two elves in that little cottage on the other side of the town. How horrid it must be to wait for an answer that might never come, but her love was her first and only priority. When he decided it would be time, she’d support him no matter what.

It was a week after the revelation (and subsequent freakout on Astarion’s part when Y/N had removed her clothes before him, and he saw the raw skin and bruises on her ribs. She spent the whole night convincing him it was fine and talking him down from hunting the mercenary and bleeding him dry. She didn’t mention it had been his parents who’d hired him but rather said it had been an unfortunate coincidence), when Astarion awoke with a certain determination, shaking her awake.

She swatted at him like an insect buzzing by her ear. “Leave me be, you blood-sucking, elf!” Y/N grumbled, burying herself under the duvet. “It’s too early. And stop hogging the covers!”

She was just about to elbow him in the ribs if he didn’t let her sleep more, but what he said was like cold ice being poured over her, waking her up completely.

“I think I want to see my parents.”

Y/N was sat in a second. The sheet dropped down, exposing her naked chest, but she didn’t even feel the chilly air biting at her skin, even though Astarion’s gaze immediately dropped down to her breasts, eyes blazing with want.

Rolling her own eyes, she pulled the cover so that it obscured her indecency. Though it was his favourite outfit of hers, they needed to focus on the important things. “Are you sure? You can take all the time you need. There is no rush to this, and it’s a huge decision to make.”

“I’m sure,” Astarion sighed, running a hand through his moon-white locks and dropping back onto the pillows. “It’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about.”

Y/N worried her lip before sliding back down next to him, letting him wrap his arms around her body. She knew in moments like these, Astarion needed reassurance, and he craved being close to her. Holding her grounded him, and made his scattered thoughts into something solid.

She kissed right above where his heart lay. “If, you’re sure.”

“I am… I just… Will you be there?” Astarion looked down at her.

The woman gave him a smile. “Nowhere I’d rather be than by your side.”

Gently, he brushed a finger against her cheekbone and leaned to kiss her, thankful he’d found someone to walk the world with, especially during the moments he feared he might break.

The day before they’d decided on meeting, Y/N ventured out to the cabin to inform the elven couple of Astarion’s decision. Once they’d seen her walking up through the window, they were out before she even managed to get to the door, faces full of hope.

“Astarion, he wants to come and see you, but there are some… conditions…”

His mother’s brow furrowed, the grimace so familiar it sent a pang through Y/N’s heart, but she swallowed it. “Whatever he needs. Whatever you both need. Anything for our little Star.”

“So… please just don’t question this, but umm… physical contact – I know I can’t possibly understand how you feel, but let him come to you first. It might not make sense, but it’s important that he is the one to make that step.”

“Of course,” Astarion's father nodded, his mother eagerly agreeing.

“And umm… he’ll be different. He might not look like the elf you remember him being. The world wasn’t kind to him for a long time… Please don’t mention this.”

Pain flashed across their faces at her words. They must have assumed something horrible had happened to him, but to have it confirmed was a different kind of agony. But as Y/N had asked – they didn’t question, simply nodded, holding onto one another a bit tighter.

“Alright.” Her heart was somewhat settled. “Thank you. We – uh- we’ll see you later tonight then.”

And with that, she left only to find Astarion pacing the inside of their hallway upon her return.

“Is it sundown already?” He snapped his neck to her as she removed her cloak, visibly upset when Y/N shook her head.

“A couple more hours, I’m afraid,” she said, taking his hand and kissing his palm, placing it against her cheek. “Please stop worrying. It will all be alright.”

“But what if I’m making a mistake?”

She raised her brow. “Do you think you’re making a mistake?”

“N-no?” Astarion huffed. “I don’t know. I know I want to see them at least once, but what if it’s best to leave the past in the past? Why torture myself and exhume it, so to speak?”

“You can leave it all behind if that’s what you wish. But, Star, you also have the rarest of opportunities people get – a second chance.” She stepped close to him, pulling his head down by the nape of his neck so they could rest their foreheads against one another. “But you can always leave. You can always say “no.” And if someone doesn’t get that, no matter who they might be, I will gut them navel to throat.”

Astarion chuckled, brushing his nose against hers. “My knight in bloody armour, always ready to ride into battle for me.”

Y/N pecked his lips in response. “As long as I get my kisses at the end of it – without a second to spare.”

They spent the couple of hours waiting until the sun went down cleaning up around the house and then it was time to go.

As Astarion took a deep breath before closing the door, Y/N squeezed his hand. “We can turn back whenever you want to.”

But he seemed determined, only giving her a reassuring smile and twining their fingers together, her hand in his solid hold.

They walked slowly, enjoying the warm night gracing Baldur’s Gate, and soon enough they were through the city and past the woods, a small log cabin coming into view.

He stopped them a few feet away, taking in a moment to gather his thoughts and emotions.

Y/N glanced at him encouragingly. “Are you ready, Star?”

Astarion took in a deep breath, held it in for a moment and then exhaled, nodding. With this confirmation, she released his hand and ventured to the door, gently rapping her knuckles against it, immediately returning to stand beside her lover.

Instantly his palm was back into hers, as if he needed her to ground him, reassure him everything would be alright as nervous energy coursed through his veins while they waited for the inhabitants to come and see them. And though it was probably no more than ten seconds since she’d knocked, it felt like time had stood still. Once the doors opened, even nature quieted down.

The breeze shushed the tweeting birds and seemingly even the worms digging underground stopped their burrowing as finally, after two hundred years, the lost Ancunin son returned.

They stood like that for what seemed like ages, just taking one another in, before a small sob of Astarion’s name from his mother’s lips broke the spellbound silence.

It’s when he rushed for her, the elf already on her feet, meeting him halfway. Her arms wrapped tight around his body, hands smoothing down the back of his head as all the while she kept whispering “My Star, my little Star, you’re home.”

Y/N was on standby, ready to rip her away if Astarion became overwhelmed. She’d asked them to allow him to be the one to make the first step, and they had, but with such all-encompassing feelings, she just wanted him to be safe.

Though all that anxiety dissipated like ice under the blazing hear of the sun when Astarion practically melted against his mother, his fingers digging into her shoulders and back as if he never wished to be let go, both of them crumbling to their knees, still in each other’s embrace.

Tears welled along Y/N’s bottom lashes and when his father joined them, wrapping his arms around his family, they fell like rain on an autumn evening. She had to press a hand against her mouth to not sob out loud, but it didn’t seem like anyone would care, as Y/N noted Astarion’s shoulders shaking while his mother and father were freely crying, all the while touching and caressing his face, trying to ingrain the memory of having their son back in their arms.

She couldn’t imagine that feeling, didn’t ever want to, of finally being reunited with a family which you were so brutally ripped away from. Y/N almost wanted to resurrect Cazador, just so she could drive a stake through his heart again, but that might’ve been a bit too morbid of a thought in such a tender moment.

“You’re home.” His mother pulled back, cupping Astarion’s cheeks and smiling from ear to ear. “Our little Star is back home.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he choked out, but his father shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here. That’s enough for us.”

Y/N watched as he took in the people who’d searched for him relentlessly. He never knew they’d never given up. She wondered if there would be a time, he’d believe he was worth all it. She certainly hoped so.

“Thank you,” the elf with eyes like jade said, snapping her eyes towards Y/N. “You have no idea what kind of a gift you’ve bestowed upon us. We will never be able to repay you.”

She could only wave them off, a knot in her throat. “You owe me nothing. Seeing this – this is enough for me. I’ll – uh – I’ll leave you to it then.”

Just as she was about to turn around, Astarion jumped to his feet, untangling himself from the limbs of his parents, eyes full of concern. “What? Why? What’s wrong?” He was by her side in an instant, pulling her hand to rest against his chest.

“Nothing!” Y/N shook her head. “I just – I just think maybe I should take my leave. I can be back in a few hours if you’d like, but this just all seems like – like a private family reunion.”

Astarion scoffed, his free arm weaving around her waist, completely offended. “And what exactly do you think you are to me if not family, my love? Arguably, you might be the most important part of it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that -,”

“Hush now!” he scolded her. “You promised to be by my side through everything. Are you breaking that promise?”

“No, I just,” she stammered. “Are you sure you don’t want me to leave you to it? This just feels awfully personal.”

“My love, you are the keeper of my heart. You are my true home.” Astarion cupped her cheek, resting his brow against hers, chest against chest, not caring who might see. “Without you, none of this would have happened. I could still be on that beach with a mind flayer tadpole wriggling behind my eye.” He took her hand, and kissed her knuckles, sighing as they brushed against his jaw. “I don’t want to do this without you. I want to relearn who my parents are, and I want them to get to know me, but a non-negotiable part of that is you. That is if it’s alright with you?”

A tear slipped down her cheek, as she looked deep into those ruby eyes that once held nothing but fear and pain, only to now show love and compassion and happiness. When she smiled, her grin could have rivalled the sun itself. “I’d be honoured.”

When they glanced at the two elves by the threshold of the house, they noted the horrified looks on their faces. Astarion’s guard was immediately up, but his mother beat him to it.

“My Star, I am so sorry!” She put a hand over her mouth. “We swear we didn’t know you two were lovers! We just...” She glanced at her husband in desperation, but it seemed the little scene they’d put on had rendered him speechless. “Had we known, we would have never…”

Astarion squinted at her, a dangerous note appearing in his voice. “Never would have what?”

“Oh Gods, we had your partner kidnapped,” his father finally got out, eyes only widening in more shock as it settled that Y/N wasn’t just a travelling companion or a friend, but just what she really meant to Astarion.

“You did what?!” His head snapped to Y/N who now retreated to stand between the two shocked elves, and her quite furious boyfriend.

“Astarion, it’s alright,” she tried to calm him down. “They didn’t know! Besides, I heard them arguing with that mercenary. They didn’t hurt me. In fact, I,” she let out a nervous chuckle, “I held a knife to your mother’s throat. So, call it even and let’s move past it?”

His gaze was hot like the flames, as it burned into her. “We will discuss this later.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “This is absolutely not how I ever imagined a family reunion to go, let alone the introduction of my partner.”

Y/N’s shoulders dropped as he broke the settled tension, but something in his eyes told her she’d pay for her omissions. And oh, how delicious that punishment would be.

His mother still seemed to be all nerves as she invited them inside, spouting apologies in Y/N’s direction, but when she took the elf's hand in hers and gave a comforting embrace, she relaxed a little. “Let’s let the bygones be bygones.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she smiled, and wrinkles of age and time appeared around her eyes.

It was awkward at first, two centuries of hurt laying between them, two centuries of torture on Astarion’s end, of lost love and people, but slowly they opened up. And when his mother mentioned how he always used to bury his nose into strawberry fields, because it reminded him of his mother’s hair care products, it was like a damn had been opened.

The memories were still there, buried under layers of pain and horrors, but there. Maybe a little jumbled up and out of sorts, but with every hour spent together, locks were being broken and a light long lost lit up again.

Astarion had changed, but so had his parents. He let them know of his adventures, how he met Y/N and how she had turned his world upside down but abstained from the more gruesome parts. He wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but if he so wished, she knew his parents would be there to listen and welcome his vulnerably with open arms.

An hour before the sun resumed its place in the sky, Y/N nudged Astarion, telling him it was time to leave. She had little doubt in her mind, his parents had caught onto what he was, even if they hadn’t mentioned Cazador. If not for the shape of his elongated canines, or the colour of his eyes, which Y/N had found out had been a beautiful shade of pale green, then because of the brutal scars on his neck. But they still pulled him into a hug with such vigour, it was like they feared they’d never see him again, which was probably a thought always haunting their minds.

“Would – would you like to come over to ours?” Astarion asked, still holding onto his mother’s hands. “It’s a bit of a mess, our place, but if you come after the sun’s down, I’m sure we can have it proper enough to take on guests.”

It was an odd request, but thankfully, neither his mother nor father said anything about the specific time request, simply hugged him once more and promised to be by their door the second the sun dipped, wine and lemon cakes in hand.

As they waved their goodbyes, Astarion slipped his palm into Y/N’s and made sure they walked all the way back like that. Once behind a closed door, he pulled her into his chest relishing in the way their bodies melded together – two puzzle pieces finally connecting and forming the most magnificent picture to exist.

“What is it like to be finally home?” Y/N asked as he swayed them to a tune only, he heard.

Astarion shook his head, pulling slightly back so he could cup her jaw. “My love, I have been home for a long time now. I’ve been safe and cared for, all thanks to you.” His eyes were so full of love and adoration, she almost choked on a breath. “Now… now it just feels complete. So thank you… thank you for being my home,” he muttered that little confession against her skin, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

“Always, my love.” Y/N didn’t hide the tears rolling down her face and he brushed them away with a soft thumb. “Always.”

When their gazes locked, all she could see was excitement for what the new day had to offer, and she knew whatever was in store, as long as they were by one another’s side, there was nothing they couldn’t overcome.

But for all that, there was an important thing she was unaware of.

As Y/N entered their living room, talking to herself and making a list of what they had to do before his parents arrived, Astarion stood and watched her, leaning against the doorframe, all the while his hands rested in his pocket, where in one of them, a beautiful ring was being twirled between his fingers.

Before they’d left, his mother had slyly pulled it off her own hand, pressing it into his palm, and whispering to him while hugging that she didn’t want to see Y/N without it the next time around.

Astarion had no intention of living his life without Y/N as his fiancé for a second longer.

When she turned around to find him on one knee, he didn’t even get to ask the question before she responded with a shout of “Yes!” and jumped on him, pulling him into a kiss he swore breathed life into his still chest.

He couldn’t wait to reintroduce Y/N to his parents as his intended.

Now all was as it should be. He was finally home. And somewhere in the garden, a rose bloomed in full.

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird

A/N: This idea was inspired by that one post of a painting Astarion's parents probably had of him, but had put away somewhere just so they didn't have to look a the son they lost, so I rectified it (Link to the inspo pic :) :( Now they have a portrait of Astarion and his love right above their fire place :)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don't plagiarise or repost on other platforms.

3K notes · View notes

deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

Text

— seven

SUMMARY : dean would rather be doing something else with his time rather than doing research, he’d rather be doing her

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester, donna handscum

WARNINGS : smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up, losers), fluff, the plot is abandoned :’(

WORD COUNT : 5.2k

A/N : yes, seven by jungkook. this fills the square for new position on my @jacklesversebingo card. this position is called ‘rocking horse’, lmao, very hot

She was staring at the screen of her laptop, every link was now purple instead of blue from having explored them all on her journey to research all there was to know about the Egyptian goddess Taweret. Still, she found nothing on how to weaken, stop, or kill the hippo. Taweret’s distorted usage of her abilities was getting too out of hand.

Too many pregnant people. Too many old people getting young again. Especially couples. For now, at least, that’s all that’s happened.

Typically Sam, Dean, and Y/N dealt with the killing, the death, and the blood, but Donna managed to pick this up on her own and called the brothers for backup because it was starting to get way too ridiculous—terrifying, really. Reapers were overwhelmed and while the Winchesters and Y/N didn’t really care about how they were feeling, it was a major problem—when speaking about the universal rules: what is, what should be, what was, what should never be, etcetera.

Unfortunately, the research has led to no real or useful information for how to stop the Goddess, not even how to kill her. And once Dean started to hum Travelling Riverside Blues while shaking his leg impatiently in the fourth hour, she couldn’t focus on anything else anymore.

Now that same song was stuck in her head and she glared at her laptop while trying to get a different song to replace Led Zeppelin’s in her mind. It wasn’t a bad song, but it got irritating, and every song somehow morphed right back to Travelling Riverside Blues. Her and Dean had been so good about focusing on the research, but sometimes one of them always made it impossible for the other to maintain that amount of silence and focus around each other.

It usually started with some small conversations: How’s the research going? Have you found anything yet? Hey, remember when…? Are you hungry? I’m kinda hungry. Aren’t you tired? And so on.

Then there were glances. From a distance, they’d stare at each other when the other isn’t looking, wondering if enough time has passed to not feel guilty for wanting to take a break. They’d smile to themselves, catching cute little habits in body language or facial expressions.

Sometimes—most of the time—there was some sexualisation. If she’s wearing a skirt or a dress, he’d stare at the curve of her legs in some really sexy heels. He’d wish to have them wrapped around his waist as he fucks her or thrown over his shoulders with his face buried between her legs. He’d have to subtly place a hand over his crotch and hope his erection would go away or stop getting harder.

If the neck of her clothes was low enough to show some cleavage, he’d spend his time analysing the size of them, the roundness and perkiness of them in the clothes she wore. Or remembering the way they felt in his hands, warm and soft, and the way she looked so hot when he’d tease her sensitive nipples with his fingers, the noises she made playing in his head until he was hot and red in the face.

And his mind would drift endlessly to the memory of her naked body. The perfect dip of her waist when he holds her there and the way she squirms when he does it. The softness of her skin when his hands and his mouth are exploring, sucking, licking, biting, tasting her as his mouth waters hungrily; touching, squeezing, scraping, possibly bruising her body so she could always remember him. So she could always feel him and where he had been.

He’d stare at her hands as she typed away at the laptop, expertly pressing the keys with those swift and elegant fingers of her. She’d keep her nails relatively short and occasionally did them nicely. Currently, they were painted a mossy green colour that matched the gem of the silver ring she wore, one he’d picked out for her. Both of them knew the nail polish wouldn’t last, but he liked when she felt beautiful, it somehow made her a billion times more beautiful.

It was the memory of them slowly moving across his body, worshipping while soft and sometimes cold, smaller than his, that made him bite his lip. Even the gentle caresses to his face when he was on the brink of breaking apart into dust in grief and despair. Her hand in his whenever they went somewhere, while they slept, in the Bunker, in the Impala, during sex.

If he’s rolled up the sleeves of a white dress shirt, she’ll stare at the way the material stretches over his chest and broad shoulders, tightening around his arms when he flexes his hands and arms as a result of a cramp or the like. With that tiny fucking waist of his accentuated by the shirt tucked into his slacks, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to fuck him senseless or hold him gently in her arms.

If he walked around to get a beer, she’d stare at the tightness of the black slacks over his ass, over his strong thighs when he’d bend over to reach down for the bottle. She’d have to hold back a moan and squeeze her thighs together to stop herself from jumping his bones or actually moaning out loud.

Even his fucking fingers turned her on. It was fucking annoying, when he’d brush his thumb across his plump bottom lip to swipe away droplets of beer. It was embarrassing the way her walls clenched around nothing just at the memory of having his thick fingers inside her, pushing and stroking, quick and steadfast. Her panties soaked through with arousal with every bit of motion from his hands. Even when he’s cleaning their weapons.

But the one thing that truly made her lose her mind were his lips. They were so distracting. All the time. Whenever he speaks, her eyes are glued on his lips, but he doesn’t think much of it because she does it often with everyone in order to focus on what they’re saying. He just doesn’t understand how much that doesn’t work for her when it’s his lips she’s looking at.

All she can think about is how kissable they look, how soft they’d feel against hers, and how funny it would be if she just kissed him mid-sentence. He’d have that cute, bewildered, but pleased look on his face. He bit them often when he was deep in thought, slowly releasing it, turning it red and swollen, just slightly covered in his spit.

He had the cutest habits with his mouth. Puckering them when he’s eating, pouting all the time, sometimes he said certain words they’d pout even more, and when he was pissed or focused. And then he did that model thing with his lips, leaving them slightly parted as he stared at nothing or was considering something seriously.

He was fucking delicious. And that mouth of his was ridiculously talented. Really, very yummy…

It was unfair that he looked as sinful and as fuckable as he did without having to try. Even after waking up, with his soft hair spiked up in some places and flat in others. When his voice was thick and hot with sleep and he’d murmur half-irritated words if he was woken too early, or hot and loving things being mumbled against her ear when he was in a mood.

After all that staring and longing, there would be trips to the fridge, when either one of them grabbed snacks for the other. Hands and fingers brushing against each other when passing over the snacks or drinks. Little smiles were exchanged and yearning sparkled in their eyes, but neither of them did or said anything about it, so the tension grew and grew.

Maybe one of them might get closer to the other, pretending to curiously look at the work they were doing. Slowly, their eyes would drift innocently to each other and there would be an exchange of teasing and amused smiles. And then they’d bring their laptop or books closer and stay there, slowly legs would start to touch each other.

It was like a circuit of lust. The endless tensions and the electricity that made them shiver, skin prickling, hair sticking up; for her: nipples tightening and tingly cunt dampening her panties; for him: cock stirring, slowly hardening and straining in his boxers. Their breaths became noticeably heavier and their eyes would be heavy with desire, and their arms and hands would touch to increase the voltage on each other’s skin until they just couldn’t take it and had to do something about it.

They weren’t quite there yet, but they were both thinking about it. They already knew themselves and how things progressed from years of being together. It was nice.

“This is so fucking boring!” Dean whined abruptly, throwing his head back and running his hands down his face. “We shoulda stayed with Sammy and Donna to talk to witnesses.” He slumped down in his chair with a pout and then turned to look at his girlfriend who pursed her lips to stop a smile from spreading across her tinted lips.

“You told Sam your knee was still hurting from the last hunt and wanted to come back here,” she reminded him with a laugh, moving the laptop off her lap to twist her torso left and right until the crack of her spine made her sigh happily.

“Yeah, well now my ass hurts, too,” he complained, arching his back in the chair and flattening his hands down his backside as it became numb.

“Then stop sitting and walk around for a bit,” she suggested, stretching her legs underneath the table so their feet knocked against each other.

“Ugh, fine,” he grunted petulantly, tapping his foot against hers in retaliation before getting up. He shut his laptop, taking the now-warm beer on the table with him. He squatted for a few seconds and she laughed through her nose, stretching in the chair while she watched him try to ease the pain on his butt from sitting.

“Fuck, this feels so good… and painful, all at once,” he chuckled, pursing his lips so his little dimples appeared above his lips. He hissed when he strained his sore knee and then sighed when he was satisfied. When he stood up straight, he scrunched up his cute nose when something popped pleasantly, and slapped his own ass with both hands—at the same time.

“Better?” She asked with a grin.

“Not really,” he frowned dramatically, hunching his back.

“Aw, come ‘ere then, sweetheart.” She mimicked his pout, moved her chair back from the table and patted her lap. “Come sit on daddy’s lap,” she said with a grin, then snorted. He let out a loud laugh and stood up straight again, placing his beer back on the table to make his way onto her lap. “Oh, sweet Jesus, you’re heavy,” she whispered playfully when he sat on her legs.

“Shudup,” he said with a soft laugh, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to play with her hair and resting his over hand on her waist, his thumb brushing back and forth distractedly.

“So, how’s it going?” She asked, a soft smile growing on her lips as she looked up at him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, intertwining her fingers to keep her hands from slipping away.

“I’m bored,” he mumbled, lifting his hand from her waist to play with the thin strap of her red dress.

“Yeah, you said that.” She stared at him for a moment, watching the way his eyes drifted from her hair, to her shoulder, and finally her breasts.

“Do you have any idea how much I wanna fuck you?” Dean asked unexpectedly, his eyes snapping back up to hers to capture her reaction. She blinked at him in astonishment, a smile slowly growing on her face. “How much I’ve wanted to bend you over every counter we’ve come across?” He murmured, cupping the back of her head to gently tilt her head back, her lips parting and her heartbeat rising in response. She tightened her entwined fingers, staring into both of his eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers. “How badly I wanna taste you? Kiss your lips? And touch every inch of your sexy body?”

“Dean,” she uttered breathily.

He smirked, teasing her by keeping his face inches away from hers, refusing her the pleasure of a kiss. His fingers slipped away from the strap of her dress to sneak into the top, but as his hands turned downward to cup her breasts, his fingers brushed against coarse material.

“Fucking boobtape,” he whispered and she laughed.

“My tits have to stay up somehow and not slip out if I have to fight,” she reasoned, feeling his fingers start to pick at the sticky tape. “Plus, a bra won’t make this dress look very nice. I mean… it’s got you this needy and hard...” She bit her lip and untangled her fingers to slide a hand between his legs. He became stiff and his breath hitched when she patted his hardening dick. “Get off me,” she murmured lightheartedly, letting him go completely.

“Y-yeah, okay,” he stammered, swiftly standing up off her lap.

He’d barely straightened up in front of her when she was starting to pull at the dark green tie to bring his lips down to hers in a rough kiss. He all but moaned against her mouth, grasping her hips desperately to pull the thin and silky cloth up so it bunched up at her waist, exposing some seamless, red panties that nearly matched the softness of the blood-red dress.

“Bed,” she murmured airily against his lips.

Dean nodded and quickly pressed his lips against hers again, moving with her as she made her way backwards, his hands groping and touching her body, hers pulling and tugging at his hair, their teeth clashing and tongues licking into each other's mouths. Lost in eachother, she ended up pressed against the wall with his knee shoved between her legs.

He pulled away, just to keep teasing her, “think I can make you cum on my thigh again?” He kissed down her jawline, his stubble tickling her soft skin, setting her nerves alight when he got to her neck, kissing softly and gently nipping at her pulse.

“I don’t doubt it,” she moaned, tilting her head back for him to stay there longer. He began rocking his knee back and forth, wrapped his arm around her waist and jutted her hips out slightly to position her perfectly on the tensing muscle of his thigh.

She grabbed at his hips with both hands and gasped at the friction on her clit. She started to roll her hips to match his movements, fumbling with his belt, struggling only because he wouldn’t keep still and her hands were shaking with desire, but she got it off eventually.

He pulled away from her before she could unbutton his pants and she pouted at him.

“Come sit on daddy’s lap,” he mocked her words from earlier with a laugh, sitting down on the bed. He patted his thigh for her to continue riding, and while the thought of that was hot, she was hung up on him calling himself daddy, even if it was a joke.

“Ewww,” she complained, holding back laughter. Still, she made her way between his legs and straddled one of his thighs, kissing his cheeks and forehead rather than plopping down and riding his thigh.

“Can I take the titty tape off?” He asked, lowering the neck of her dress to peek at the tape that matched her skin tone. She nodded, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter, and settled onto his thigh, busying herself with loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

“What if I tattoo your name on my body?” She murmured. Dean shifted his gaze away from her chest to look at her inquisitively, blindly and carefully peeling off the tape from the skin of her breast. “Not a tacky tattoo, maybe Times New Roman, font size 10,” she replied playfully, dropping a chaste kiss to his parted lips.

“Oh,” he uttered shyly, and stayed quiet for a couple of moments. “Where?” He finally asked, giving her time to think before moving to her other breast to remove the tape there. She pondered for a while and then shrugged.

“Maybe… my finger,” she answered, wiggling her middle finger mischievously at him—as if flipping him off. He laughed at her, balled up the tape now that he was done, and threw it on the floor.

“No….” He disagreed gently, grabbing her hand to close her fist, then kissed her knuckles. She bit her lip, smiling shyly when he looked up at her through his thick lashes.

“No?” She questioned, rolling her hips against his thigh, her knee gently brushing against his erection. He shook his head and moaned, leaning forward to press hot and wet kisses along her neck.

“Maybe here,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of her neck, nipping at her pulse point. She gasped and squirmed against his thigh, fisting his white t-shirt in one hand and burying her fingers into his hair with the other. “Or here,” he suggested, squeezing her breast, “maybe here would be better,” he added, then slapped her ass hard enough for her to yelp and jump.

“All three of those places, then?” She teased breathlessly, rolling her hips slowly and sensually. He sucked softly at her clavicle, then dropped a few kisses onto her breasts.

“Definitely,” he approved, dragging his lips up to her shoulders, letting his mouth push away the thin straps of her dress. “My favourite places.” She chuckled, squirming impatiently on his thigh. She guided his lips back up to hers by tugging at the short strands of his hair, choosing to nibble on his lip teasingly until he crashed his mouth against hers. “Need you…” he whispered between needy kisses, and slowly started to lift her dress upwards.

While she removed the dress, he shrugged off the white dress shirt, struggled a little when the sleeve got caught around his watch. “Fucken…” he grunted, unbuttoning the cuff with irritation.

“Don’t worry, baby, I love taking my time with you,” she laughed, pulling the t-shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants.

“Well, me personally? I don’t wanna have to pull out halfway through sex because Sammy’s on his way back. Not again,” he said seriously, lifting his arms to help her remove his shirt. She gave him an empathetic smile which quickly turned into an amused one when she remembered how uncomfortable and sensitive he had been the rest of the day. “It’s not funny, I was about to come, but fucken Sam had to text…” he pouted, then smiled when she started to laugh.

“Yeah… as funny as that was, I really need to come right now,” she conceded and climbed off his lap to remove her underwear. Dean reached out excitedly for them, playfully brushing her hands out of the way to pull her underwear down swiftly.

“I want you to come, too,” he said, licking his lips. She laughed quietly, holding his shoulders for balance, lifting her knee up so he could take her underwear off completely. “On my dick, though, not in my thigh,” he clarified, immediately pulling her back into him.

He dropped impatient kisses along her waist, forcing her to climb onto the bed on her knees, before moving his mouth upwards, his hands exploring her smooth body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, closed her eyes and unsuccessfully tried to steady her breath. She held him close to her, let him slowly pull her down onto his lap until their hips met.

“Dean, you gotta get your pants off,” she sighed.

“Stay,” he breathed, rolling his hips up into hers as a promise of what he’d give her. She moaned in surprise, whining when he pulled away and spread his legs, forcing her to do the same. Cool air passed between her soaked folds and she gasped.

Awkwardly, he fumbled with his slacks’ button between their bodies, careful not to make her shift or fall back with his brisk and eager movements. He shoved the pants down his legs, boxers sliding down right along with them, and kicked them off his feet.

He didn’t care about doing it properly and immediately drew her close to him when he heard the sound of his clothes hitting the floor. She laughed against his mouth, reached down between their bodies to wrap her hand around his cock.

He cursed softly against her mouth, grabbed her hips roughly and moved her hastily onto her back. It didn’t stop her from playing with him, teasing him by rubbing the hot and hard length of him through her folds. When she made a ring with her forefinger and thumb, he roughly sank his teeth into her shoulder and groaned loudly, freezing at the overwhelming pleasure of her fingers tightening around him and moving upwards in precise twists.

“Goddamnit,” he hissed, “shouldn’t have… told you I like—ah, shit!” He jolted, bucking his hips involuntarily when she started to massage underneath the head of his cock, nearly losing himself and nearly giving into the threat of his orgasm. “No.. wait,” he whined, weakly stopping her with his hands around her wrist.

“You sound so fucking hot when I do that,” she chuckled, “you know I can’t help myself, Dean.” Still, she let go of him and licked her fingers clean of the precum that coated them.

“I have something in mind,” he started suggestively, placing a rough kiss on her lips. She hummed softly and sucked on his lip, watching him move down her body with his lips and hands. He pulled away from her completely and positioned himself in the centre of the bed, patting the spot between his legs.

“You and your slutty little imagination,” she teased, crawling up to him. She parted his thighs, kissed along the inside of his soft—slightly scarred—skin and licked up a stripe of the underside of his cock. He groaned, reaching out for her arm when she twirled her tongue around the leaking tip, sucking gently on the soft head.

“Enough of that, beautiful,” he murmured, tugging her upwards by her arm and away from his dick. She pouted, letting go of his cock with a loud and obscenely wet pop that made him groan. “Lean back,” he instructed delicately, licking his lips when she brushed her wet lips against his teasingly.

With a small ‘okay’, she complied, leaning back with her hands flat behind her on the bed, her two thighs resting on either side of him. “Now, what?” Dean wrapped his hands around her knees instead of replying, and started to bend them upwards. She wiggled around slightly, moving with him and bit her lip when he slid his hands beneath her knees to hold her waist.

One of his hands migrated from her waist to wrap around his cock, guiding himself slowly and teasingly through her folds. She became flustered, staring at him with her knees bent over his forearms.

“This is…” she trailed off, cheeks red and heart beating wildly behind the cage of her ribs.

“Very hot,” Dean finished for her. He let go of his cock just to reach over to the bedside table where his phone was resting. She looked curious at him, thinking maybe he’d check on Sam before they got started, but instead he opened the camera and swiped until he was on the video recording section. “Is this okay, babe?” He asked, gazing back into her eyes, his thumb hovering over the red button.

“Yeah, D.” She nodded, chewing shyly on her lips. “Do you have way more videos of us fucking than of us doing.. ya know, cute romantic shit?” She asked, not caring that he was already recording. He scoffed, positioning the camera to capture her dripping folds, her breasts, and the bottom half of her face rather than his body.

“This is romantic,” he told her matter-of-factly.

“Mm, yeah.. right,” she snickered and lifted herself up using the strength of her arms so she could then lower herself on his cock.

“You don’t think so?” He grunted, watching lewdly as he stretched her pussy open, slowly disappearing inside her warmth. “I think it’s pretty romantic, watchin’ videos of how I fucked you… jerking off to them when I miss you. Listening to how needy and desperate you get for me when you’re about to come…” He explained explicitly, holding her waist tightly, when their hips met completely.

“It’s not just about the sex, baby,” he added, gazing into her eyes. She bit her lip and slowly started to lift herself back up again. “It’s about how it makes me feel. How you make me feel. It’s about time. Makin’ you mine, givin’ myself to you, lovin’ you, you lovin’ me in return, us.. being vulnerable.” She squeezed around him tightly and sank back down, her gaze soft. “It’s romantic that there’s no adios afterward, nothin’ for us to hide from each other during, just you and me barin’ our souls to one another… it’s about us.” He pulled her even closer just to kiss her passionately. Her thighs were practically pressed against the front of her body, somehow he managed to sink deeper into her, and he rocked his hips upwards so her clit brushed against his pelvic bone.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, moving one arm to wrap her arm around his neck instead. He smiled against her mouth, and blindly set the phone down on the nightstand, skilfully getting enough in the shot without much fumbling.

“C’mon, baby, you said you needed to come…” he whispered against her jawline, “so make yourself cum.” Dutifully, she began moving a little faster, trying to find a perfect cadence in this new position.

He mouthed at the skin of her neck and chest that he could reach, careful to leave very light marks so she could wear that sexy little dress again, and let her take control of everything. Almost immediately, she was able to move at the perfect pace, towards her orgasm and his.

Gasps and grunts, moaning and groaning, they held onto each other trying to bring each other toward their orgasms unhurriedly. She tipped her head back and tried to pull him impossibly close. With the impact of their hips, her clit was stimulated with a pleasant grind of his hips moving upwards, and this time, rather than doing what they always did—slowing down when they were close to extend the proximity of their organs, increasing the intensity of it—he breathily encouraged her to keep going.

He mindlessly praised her and confessed his love like he always did when he was close, meeting her thrusts far gentler than she was. Still, with one hand behind her and the other in his hair, she tugged on the hairs at the top of his head hard enough to make him moan loudly. His bruising grip on her waist didn’t let up, and his blunt nails dug into her back, waiting for her to cum before he could.

A few more strokes of his cock against her g-spot had her walls pulsing around him, gasping and panting his name, and pressing her forehead against his shoulder as her orgasm finally crashed over her.

She dropped kisses along his shoulder and neck, shuddering from her orgasm, and with a loud grunt of her name, Dean came inside of her. Slowly, they stopped moving and tried to catch their breaths while holding each other closely. She played with his hair and he soothed her bruised waist with calloused palms, then leaned forward all the way until she was laying on her back to kiss her face lovingly.

“Porn worthy?” She teased quietly, resting her hands on his waist waiting as he made a cute path along her face with kisses to reach her lips.

“I could go a second round,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. He slowly rolled his hips against hers, still buried deep inside her. She groaned softly and wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging him to keep moving, and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss anything vulgar he was about to say.

Dean froze above her when he heard footsteps from outside their hotel room, pleading internally that it was random people passing by, but deflated when he heard Sam speak to Donna. “…I hope they found something.”

“Shit!” Y/n whispered, trying to push Dean off her when the doorknob began to rattle, but Dean didn’t budge, knowing it was no use and wanting to use his body as a shield.

“Well, the jig is up,” he joked, watching her throw her arms over her chest instead, glaring at him half-heartedly.

“Dean, your phone!” She reminded him, but Dean shrugged just as Sam swung the door open and stopped mid-sentence with Donna exclaiming some sort of phrase in surprise. Y/n would have laughed at whatever it was she said—Donna’s refusal to actually say a swear word—but she just groaned in annoyance.

“Seriously, guys? Every time!” Sam shouted, apologising to Donna quietly who brushed it off with a quiet ‘it’s okay’.

Donna sneaked one tiny glimpse at the naked couple just as Sam turned around for them to get dressed. Dean smirked smugly and winked at Donna, then looked away to watch as he pulled out of his girlfriend, their cum spilling out of her. His cock was hard again and Y/n shook her head, waiting for Dean to get the phone and get moving.

“You do realise that it could've been Taweret making you guys…” Sam scolded, filling the silence up as Dean gathered their clothes. Donna blushed and turned around as well, grateful that Sam didn’t mention her hesitation in turning around sooner.

“Uh,” Y/n stammered, pulling her clothes on when Dean handed it to her.

“You have a point, Sammy, but we usually do this, anyway, so…” Dean spoke up, giving Y/n a hand so she could stand on slightly shaky legs beside him. “‘sides, I did find something…” Dean announced, pointing to his laptop on the table. With a hard slap on Y/n’s ass, Dean walked to the bathroom to get cleaned up, grasping her small hand with his to bring her with him.

“Sorry,” Y/n laughed, apologetically bowing her head before following Dean to get herself cleaned up as well. As she walked, she could feel Dean’s cum drip out of her, her panties wet and cool between her legs made her uncomfortable but she kept them on, washing her hands with Dean standing next to her doing the same.

“Well, they’re still cute,” Donna said brightly, trying to brighten Sam’s sour mood, but it only worsened when he opened Dean’s laptop and the open tab was a sex page with a list of positions to try.

“Seriously, Dean? Close the damn tabs!”

“Whoops,” Dean snickered, gazing at Y/n who only rolled her eyes at him, affectionately smiling. “Gonna play this video real loud tonight,” he whispered with a grin, shaking his phone in his hand, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead.

“That’s really funny, but no,” she chuckled, bringing him down for a soft kiss when he pouted at her childishly.

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main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fanfiction

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ma1dita · 6 months

Note

its 2am and im delirious im so sorry but

jealous! (and maybe clingy!)luke x apollo!reader when he sees the same couple of campers constantly coming to you for medical attention over small scratches or feigned illnesses just to get your attention..and reader is just so kind to everyone they’d never refuse to treat anybody no matter how minor the injury, but it drives luke a little mad teehee 🤭

🐥 also happy (late) birthday jo!!

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x gn!apollo!reader

a/n: i will never get tired of bf!luke.

wc: 947

“Be with you in a second, sweet boy!”

Your hands were fiddling with gauze as you brush past Luke sitting on the only empty bed left in the infirmary. And you weren’t even talking to him! Your words were directed to his half-sibling and with all the others waiting for you, it was obvious that you weren’t leaving your shift anytime soon despite his plans for your date night.

“Doc, what about me? I feel sick too,” he mutters into your neck, big hands pulling at your waist and playing with the smock tied around your frame.

“What’s the matter, my love?” You coo, brushing back his mop of hair and looking into his honey sweet eyes. He grins and it’s a bit boyish and quite sinister, all Luke with a definite trick up his sleeve.

“My heart hurts…. because I pulled a few strings to have dinner with you at the lake and we’re not there right now,” he sighs, hot breath tickling your earlobe, “And I need you to fix me up too.” Cheeky asshole.

You bite your lip and slowly pull yourself away from his embrace, not without kissing the corner of his mouth before the fluttery feeling is weighed down by the reminder of your responsibilities at the sound of a scream from across the infirmary.

The room was filled with campers of all ages vying for your attention and waiting for your gentle hands to tend to everything from a scraped knee to a rising fever (though if you ask Luke, he’s so sure he saw Bradley from cabin 9 standing over the forge in the armory trying to break a sweat earlier).

It was sickening. Someone ought to tell these campers to get in line. Connor Stoll almost skips–excuse me, limps, (now that you’re watching him again) towards Luke with a shit-eating grin at his moody disposition at the fact that he has to fight for your attention.

“Beat it, loser.”

“Baby! Don’t be mean or I’ll ask you to leave. Get up, Connie needs to get his knee wrapped,” you say with a furrow in your brow. Your eyes dart around the room wondering where the rest of your siblings have gone to help you heal these campers, but unlike you, they’ve already clocked out for the day. It’s a wonder how many kids at Camp Half-Blood get brutalized, maimed, or both on the daily, but it’s all in a day’s work of being a child of Apollo.

“Yeah, move it bighead!”

Luke grumbles, rising to his feet and shoving Connor a bit harder than what’s brotherly, so much so that the preteen falls face first into the cot. (Luke thought it was dumb that the kid was acting like a baby since the idiot scraped his knee jumping off the roof of the dining pavilion because Travis and Chris dared him to.)

“OWWW!” he groans, and before you can react, Bradley’s asking for another cold towel and little Lila from cabin 4 starts crying about her sun poisoning from being out in the strawberry field—your shaking hands and wide eyes let Luke know you’re at your limit so he ushers you behind a curtain for examinations.

“Honestly, you’re overworked babe. Take a break,” he says sternly, but softens as you look up at him with a pout and a whole lot of love. He smooths your hair down and hands you a glass of water.

“Just need to see the rest of the patients for the day and send them on their way. I don’t want anyone to be hurt,” you mumble through sips, leaning against the wall and shutting your eyes. To Luke, it sounded like the quicker you get through this the more time he spends with you— and so he moves so quickly that you barely process what he’s doing until you hear various complaints from campers (who are annoyed that their new nurse isn’t as pretty as you and dons a fierce glare and curls that hang over his forehead like a dark cloud).

Nurse Luke models after what he’s seen you do here countless times, but in a way that’s very much his own. He gives out ambrosia and nectar, cleans up booboos where needed, tells Bradley to fuck off and take a cold shower, tapes Connor’s mouth shut, and awkwardly jokes to a kid from cabin 6 that he probably shouldn’t be the one doing stitches or he’ll get a scar that looks like the one running down his cheek. They agree to wait until later, holding bloody gauze to their chin.

By the time you’ve calmed yourself down, you pull back the curtain to see an eerily quiet infirmary (and you’re not sure if they’ve been threatened into silence) but everyone is bandaged, fed and watered—to the best of Luke’s ability. It brings up a sunny smile on your face that reminds him of the first rays of morning light which is a view he never gets tired of, and you finally throw in the towel when Leo and little Will come in for the evening shift.

A resounding sigh is heard from the infirmary’s patients as you leave with your boyfriend, to which you don’t think much of as you look at Luke like he’s the answer to all of your problems. He kisses you in the doorway like its a cure, whispering sweet nothings and promises of a nice dinner at the lake even if it’s pitch black outside now.

It also serves to those damn kids as a reminder that he’s the one who gets to fuss over you and though he doesn’t like starting fights, boy, does he love ending them, in his own little way.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fluff #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎#for my gn babies (づ ◕‿◕ )づ

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disneyprincemuke · 7 months

Text

the overachiever * fem!driver

she's just a little competitive, that's all

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, liam lawson x fem!driver

notes: YAUUUR i'm back with em femdriver updates dawg

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

oscar leans to the side as he avoids the ball hurled at him at seemingly an alarming rate — could have possibly taken his head off if he hadn’t moved fast enough — then turns back to the pair on the other side of the court. “oi!”

“loser!” she pumps her fist in the air and hops over to her teammate on her side of the court, hand lifted for a high-5. “do better.”

oscar rests a hand on his hip, chest heaving as he whirls around to where the ball had bounced to. “this was supposed to be a chill game. what is your problem?”

liam laughs, clutching his stomach as he threw his head back. he catches the girl’s hand and nods. “sore losers, aren’t they?”

“isn’t this your first time playing padel?” logan scowls. “how are you already so good at it?”

she shrugs as she puts her racket between her legs, readjusting her ponytail. “you know i can’t stand when i’m bad at things. of course, i prepared myself for today.”

when oscar had invited them out for a game of padel, he had expected it to be a first out of many short games. what nobody had expected, though, is for the girl — who claimed to know nothing of the sport just a week ago — to be absolutely dominating them on the court.

there is a reason they hadn’t invited the rest of their friends or anyone else from the grid. they just wanted to slowly take their time to learn the ropes of the game so that when the season goes underway, they don’t embarrass themselves when they get invited to games by other drivers.

but of course, the overachiever did her research and is already excelling to a certain extent. it’s just something they’d had to endure over the years: her in-explainable need to be good at everything immediately. if she’s not good at it from the get-go, she loses interest quickly.

“how? how could you have possibly prepared yourself for a game of padel? you didn’t even have a racket until 3 days ago,” logan scolds, throwing his arms in the air as the frustration slowly gets to him. there’s just something about her beating him in absolutely everything that’s sort of absurd. “i was literally with you when we went to get your stupid racket!”

“there’s this thing called youtube?” she hums with an eyebrow raised with the roll of her eyes. “and i asked fernando for some tips. so i’m kind of… like… a pro.”

“doesn’t make you a pro,” oscar scowls with a frown as he shakes his head. “makes you a bit of a nerd, though.”

“well i am graduating with a degree in information technology in a couple of months. so, perhaps, i could be a nerd,” she hums, with a giddy grin, “at least if the whole racing thing doesn’t work out… i have a way out. unlike you dropouts!”

“a woman in stem!” liam cheers. “if you graduate first class, i’ll buy you a car. what’s your current grades?”

she presses her lips together, nodding as she tries to formulate a plan for her education. “if i study harder for my final exam in a week, i could make that happen. i’m a pretty solid b grade student.”

“i meant a toy car, you freak,” liam frowns, scowling at her. “you think i’m getting paid loads as a reserve driver?”

“i overheard the team discussing you the other afternoon. who knows? we very well may be teammates next year.”

“i sure hope not,” logan butts in with a snort. “that wouldn’t do anyone any good — two idiots in the same team.”

she tilts her head, blinking innocently at him. “what do you mean? williams seems to be doing great with that kind of lineup this year.”

logan clenches his jaw, puckering his lips as he looks at her. “okay.”

“enough fighting,” oscar rolls his eyes. “ready to lose again, logan?”

the american sighs. “yeah, i guess.”

“god, don’t you know what a demonstration means?” max clutches his stomach, hunching over as the pain shoots through his torso. he watches the ball slowly bounce on the ground, right after hitting him in the stomach.

beside her, penelope giggles as she approaches max in concern. “are you okay, maxie?”

max shakes his head, glancing at the young child before dropping to his knees as he groans. “no, p. she bullied me!”

“she’s so strong!” penelope cheers, hopping over to the older girl with a screechy giggle. “but you should say sorry, maybe!”

“you’re right,” she grins, patting penelope on the head. “i’m sorry, max.” she leans down to max’s ear out of penelope’s hearing range. “that you got outplayed by a girl.”

max lifts his head to glare at her. they were just teaching penelope how to play football, the older girl describing earlier how to score effectively after she expressed interest in the sport. when she was asked to demonstrate the move, max didn’t expect her to kick the ball so hard.

“i knew that was coming. you’re so harsh!”

he was expecting a semi-strong kick to his stomach — something that he could catch and bear before they continued their small game of football. but no, she kicked the ball as hard as she could and almost incapacitated him.

though, perhaps incapacitated is too strong of a word. but he still does feel it in his gut, stumbling back in confusion when the ball came into contact with him.

can he really blame her, though? he sort of gets it: the need to be good at everything to please people. maybe it’s the eldest sibling trait.

“i was in varsity when i was in primary school,” she presses her lips together with a small smile. she holds her arms out to the younger girl and gestures towards her parent’s house. “i could get blythe to make us orange juice, p. do you want some?”

she sighs and drops her hands. “you can do better than that.”

logan drops his stance, his hands resting by the side of his body. “what do you mean? i don’t want to hit you so hard.”

“why? it’s not our first time sparring,” she scowls, wiping the side of her face on the sleeve of her shirt. she lifts her hands again, inside a pair of boxing gloves, and protects her face. “come on. hit me like you mean it.”

“i’m not going to hit you,” logan mutters. “we’re just warming up until benny and noah get here, right? that’s what you said.”

“yeah, but,” she darts a hand out, barely missing logan’s face when he leans back to avoid her punch, “i want a real challenge before they get here. come on, logan.”

but logan doesn’t fight back. instead, he takes several steps back when she tries to approach him, both arms darting out in an attempt to rile him up into a real spar.

“stop trying. i’m not doing this with you,” logan sighs, touching gloves with her everytime she tries to reach forward for him. “i know you were in martial arts growing up too, but i wasn’t. i’m just here because you asked me to be here.”

she grins. “exactly. so, fight back. don’t be a coward.”

“you’re not going to rile me up into a fight. i’m not you.”

“it works sometimes.” she dips down slightly and throws a punch into his stomach, prompting a huff as it hits him. “hit me back.”

“no way. stop asking me to do that.”

“coward.”

“okay.”

she touches his thigh with her feet, the taller boy stumbling slightly. “you’re just gonna let me do that to you? do something.”

“you’re not gonna get anything out of him.” a familiar voice makes both of you turn your head towards the door, benny walking in with a small smile and a gym bag over his shoulder. “very patient, this guy.”

“you clearly did not live in the same house as him for years,” she laughs, running over with her arms opens to get a hug. “will you spar with me until noah gets here? logan is so boring — he never hits me back.”

“hey!”

“sure! but you can’t cry when you lose.”

“maybe.”

sebastian tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows. “are you sure go-karting is what you wanna do over summer break? don’t you have other things to do?”

“we’ve done everything she wants to do,” oscar says begrudgingly as he puts his helmet on. “she cried this morning saying she misses racing.”

logan also looks tiredly at sebastian, shaking his head as he takes his helmet out of his bag. “i woke up to her sleeping on the couch hugging her helmet, by the way.”

the girl scoffs, punching logan’s arm as he unveils a secret he was sworn to never say to anybody else just this afternoon. “no, i was not!”

“ah, don’t be so shy about it,” sebastian smiles. “i also felt like that in my rookie year. all i could think of was being out on the track.”

“i guess i could study for my exams.” she exchanges glances with the 3 men around her before shrugging. “oh, well. time to race and beat your asses.”

“oh? you think you could be a 4-time world champion?” sebastian raises his eyebrows. “i’d like to see you try.”

“you clearly haven’t met me,” she hums, stopping in her track to turn around and face sebastian. she holds a hand out between them. “hi, i’m the most competitive girl you’ll ever meet. and i will beat you at go-karting today.”

while that doesn’t actually happen that evening, sebastian laughed as he climbed out of his go-kart at the end of their 10-minute race. she swears to him that someday she will be good enough to beat him in equal machinery (a go-kart).

which oscar begs to argue that she’s simply overdramatising the situation. but she just knows it’ll happen eventually.

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @nikfigueiredo @namgification @happy-nico @darleneslane @localwhoore @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @inejismywife @love4lando

#logan sargeant x reader #oscar piastri x reader #liam lawson x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #fem!driver #female driver #f1 fem!driver #f1 female driver #vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader

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joequiinn · 5 months

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 4

[chap three] | [all chapters here] | [chap five]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Oooh lads, here we are again! I was going to save this chapter for tomorrow, but I'm having a bad day, so I decided to treat all of us with an update today! Not too much happens in this chapter, however, it still charmed me very much, and I'm the one who fucking wrote it lol. As always, enjoy and let me know what you think!

taglist: @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @steeldaisies

wc: 4.0k

Chapter Four

“What the hell?” Amelia hisses while practically slamming down her lunch tray. You looked up at her with feigned ignorance, your eyes cool as you took both her and Janet in. You’d once again attempted sitting at your new lunch table, the same dorky couple sharing it with you, amongst a few of their friends. Although the group briefly eyed you, they’d been ignoring you for the past few minutes. That is, until your friends showed up.

“What?” You asked before turning your attention back to your food.

“You know what.” Amelia insisted, staying on her feet with an irate look. You were shocked she even dared to come out here in no man’s land to talk to you for a second time. Janet, submissive as ever, stayed back, looking between you both with worried eyes, “Did you hit your head or something? Why are you suddenly so interested in Munson?”

Annoyance jaded your features. You settle your glaring eyes on Amelia, your voice just as accusatory as hers, “Why does it matter?”

She scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the word, “Because he’s a loser. What’s everyone gonna think if they keep seeing you two together? You already made a scene this morning, they’re already talking.”

You shrugged, far too nonchalantly for Amelia’s taste, as you spoke around a bite of food, which was actually your way of hiding the glee you felt knowing that people were already talking about you and Eddie, “Does it matter? Does any of this shit matter?”

“Of course it does.” Janet finally chimed in, her voice calm compared to Amelia, “You could get yourself in trouble hanging out with someone like him.”

You rolled your eyes before shooting her a condescending look, “When have I ever gotten in trouble for literally anything?”

“It’s bound to happen eventually.” Amelia countered, and you finally dropped your fork to look at them both, your frustration growing.

“If it bothers you so much,” You start, your tone cold and direct, as non-emotional and harsh as you could manage, “start hanging out with someone else. Start hanging around Duncan, for all I care. We have loads of other friends who I’m sure won’t do something as stupid as talking to a boy.”

Amelia rolled her eyes at the way you mocked them, familiar with the tone of voice you were using. She’s heard you use it at least half a dozen times before when you two had gotten into stupid arguments in the past.

“Look, whenever you’re done PMSing or whatever, you’ll see where we’re coming from.” With a finite look on her face, Amelia picked up her lunch tray again and headed off back to her familiar, comfortable lunch table. Janet gave you an apologetic look before scurrying off a moment later.

You should be upset. And, yes, a part of you was irritated by the conversation, and yet, a large smile spread across your face - you didn’t anticipate that you’d piss Amelia off so quickly and acutely. You two have fought a number of times before considering how easily your personalities could clash, but this felt like you actually accomplished something. Your plan was already working wonders, despite your continued doubts.

As you went back to your quiet lunch, you couldn’t help but watch your group of friends from afar, mostly in irritation, although you felt a mild pang of loss in your chest. They all looked so happy, so at ease with one another, and a part of you suddenly missed that feeling. But you knew you were just being nostalgic, because you wouldn’t feel any of those things if you sat with them - you wouldn’t feel happy or at ease, rather you’d feel annoyed and tense.

Yet you couldn’t help but that bit of sadness you felt at the sight of them.

Even Duncan, that asshole, looked cheery as he shared a laugh with the guys, clapping one of them on the shoulder. You couldn’t help but glower at the sight of him. Diverting your attention, your eyes began to scan the lunch room, wondering where exactly Eddie and his band of rejects sat. You’d never noticed before considering that it didn’t matter in the past, but it was probably a good idea to start keeping track of these types of things.

You eventually found the gaggle of geeks, watching as they excitedly conversed. The mean-spirited part of you made a judgmental face, assuming they were talking about D&D or the arcade or something else equally as nerdy. After a few moments of taking in the group as a whole, you found yourself studying Eddie’s face, taking in his ever-changing expression; he didn’t seem to notice you watching him, which gave you a better chance at observing him.

Eddie was always theatrical, you realized, always throwing his arms around as he spoke or raising his voice for particular emphasis. You found it strange just how big his communication style was, especially considering how tightly wound you always were. Where he had his exaggerated movements and his dramatic tones, you had your tight motions and controlled voice. Just thinking about how different he was dared to give you a headache, and you caught yourself wondering what the hell you’d be in for once you two moved your fake relationship along.

Eventually, Eddie seemed to sense eyes on him, because his gaze found yours curiously. You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was able to see the movement from halfway across the cafeteria; when he made a face in return, you figured he noticed. He, too, raised both brows as if in question, nudging his head ever so slightly - it appeared that he was asking you to join him, but you couldn't be sure if that’s what he meant. Nonetheless, you shook your head at him, deciding that you were enjoying your quiet lunch and that you weren’t quite ready to put up with his group of loser friends for even five minutes. Regardless of whether or not you wanted to, you knew you’d get to that point eventually. Eddie gave a shrug of his shoulders, as if silently saying “suit yourself;” and although he turned his gaze back to his friends, you two continued stealing glances for the remainder of your lunch break.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Come Wednesday morning, Amelia wasn’t waiting for you at your locker. No one was except for Janet, who looked tense before she spotted you walking towards her. She tried to put on a brave face once you two met eyes.

You figured this meant Amelia wasn’t planning on talking to you anytime soon. Good. As for the rest of the group, it didn’t matter to you either way. Although, it was still surprising to see Janet here by herself - she must’ve been sent by Amelia.

As you approached, Janet gave you a sheepish wave. You couldn't help the familial smile you gave her - she was a much easier person to get along with than most others in your circle.

“How long before Amelia talks to me this time?” You jested with a mean quality to your voice.

Janet didn’t appear to be amused by it, though, as she responded, “She’ll hold out forever if she feels like it.”

You huffed out a laugh while opening your locker, “Good point. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

You two were silent for a few long moments as Janet nibbled at her thumb nail and you moved belongings between your bag and your locker.

“What’s going on with you this week?” She finally asked, out of curiosity, rather than with judgment. Nonetheless, you shot her a look, to which she quickly waved her hands as if to calm down whatever bitchiness was about to stir up in you, “No no, I’m not trying to be mean. It’s just… you’ve been weird since school started.”

So, Janet noticed. You wondered if anyone else had. Maybe they’d all been ignoring it, but now that Eddie was in the mix they couldn’t keep that up anymore.

You shrugged as the pair of you began the trek through the halls to your respective classes, your answer noncommittal, “‘Weird,’ huh?”

Janet watched you as if she was waiting for you to elaborate, before sighing and asking, “Is there something going on? Like, something you need to talk about?”

You laughed without thinking, a mean and dismissive sound even to your own ears, “Yeah right.”

Hurt flashed across Janet’s face, her tone clearly different than it was a moment before, “Geez, sorry I asked.”

“Just stop worrying about it, alright?” You insisted with harshness, your eyes cold as you looked over at her.

With a resigned expression, Janet dropped her head and sighed, muttering as she walked away, “Yeah, whatever…”

It briefly struck you that maybe you didn’t have to be so bitchy all the time. But, then again, you didn’t really know how to be anything else.

Your day went on as usual from that point. You discussed a boring book in first period, you wasted time in second period, and once third period rolled around, a vague excitement struck you as you remembered that that was the one class you shared with Eddie. You should not have been excited at that thought, not in the slightest, and yet it added something interesting to your otherwise stupid and monotonous day.

When you entered the classroom, Eddie was already there, sitting at his usual desk in the back corner, looking bored despite class not even starting yet, drumming his pencil absently on his desk. As you approached and he spotted you out of the corner of his eye, he sat up a little in his seat, a nearly cute smile crossing his lips. Once you reached his side, the kid next to Eddie glanced up at you curiously, to which you made a face; meanwhile, Eddie just appeared surprised that you were the one to initiate conversation.

“Didn’t see you this morning.” You started simply, crossing your arms in front of you.

“I was late.” He shrugged lazily before giving you a conspiratory look, “What, were you waiting for me?”

You narrowed your eyes a little at his teasing, responding in a flat tone, “Oh, I was absolutely heartbroken.”

“Figured.” Eddie grinned widely, to which you responded with a subtle smile.

You turned away and went to your desk in the second row, surrounded by other students who were part of your usual circle of acquaintances. While waiting for class to start, you looked around the room, your gaze unintentionally drifting back towards Eddie. You studied him for a few moments before a decisive look graced your features and you abruptly stood back up. The movement caused a couple of people to glance your way, but otherwise no one cared.

You walked to the back of the room, turning your attention on the boy sitting next to Eddie, who awkwardly looked between you and his desk as if he were nervous under your gaze, as if he feared looking you in the eye.

“Move.” You say harshly. He looks at you in surprise and confusion, to which you raise a curved brow as if challenging him to defy you, “Move.”

You didn’t have to repeat yourself again. With a surprised scoff, he collected his things and migrated to the next available seat, which was sure to throw off the entire seating arrangement of the class for the day. As you plopped down at the desk next to Eddie’s, he laughed halfheartedly, his expression just as surprised as the other boy’s.

“Jesus, you are mean.” He states, although his eyes seem to show at least a hint of appreciation. You shrug, pulling your notebook and pencil from your bag.

“Well, I wanted to sit here.”

“Ever heard of the word ‘please?’” Eddie teased, shaking his head at you. You gave him a look out of the corner of your eye, refraining from talking back.

As the bell rang and the stragglers migrated in, people began to notice your change of seat. Some people looked at you strangely, others with disapproval, and the rest just didn't seem to notice or care at all. Hell, even your teacher had to pause and search for you during attendance, realizing you weren’t at your usual desk. Her vague hum of disapproval was enough to get a few students to shoot glances your way. As if in response, Eddie stretched his leg across the aisle to rest his foot on the metal basket beneath your seat.

Math class came and went, and as you walked out of the room, Eddie followed right alongside. As you led the way to your next class, Eddie playfully bumped your shoulder with his, which was starting to become a common thing between you two already, a quick way for him to break the rules you laid out for him.

You glanced up at him with a raised brow, “Yes?”

Eddie shrugged, looking falsely nonchalantly, causing you to narrow your eyes in confusion and perhaps mild annoyance. The playfulness wasn’t something you were accustomed to, nor did you think you ever would.

“You gonna sit with us at lunch?” He asked, to which you pulled a face, causing him to laugh without amusement, “I take it that’s a ‘no.’”

“I didn’t exactly factor your friends into this plan.”

Eddie looked nearly amused, but also perhaps a touch critical, “What did you factor in?”

You made a face, but he continued to simply look down at you with a slight grin. You sighed in response, chewing the inside of your cheek with thought.

“I guess we need to come up with some more rules.”

“Do I get to make some this time?” Eddie joked.

You rolled your eyes smally, “I’ll allow it.”

“Then I guess it’s a date.” You paused momentarily to look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“You still have to actually ask me out, that doesn’t count,” The pair of you reach your biology classroom, so you pause outside the door. “I’m expecting those flowers and balloons, you know.”

“I’m sure you are.” Eddie mocked, that damned grin still across his lips.

Students brushed past you to enter the classroom, and you briefly wondered if Duncan - who you shared this class with - was already here, if he had noticed the two of you. But you didn’t dare to look into the classroom, because just your luck he’d figure you were looking for him. But as that thought crossed your mind, you took a small step closer into Eddie’s personal space, putting on your best look of interest as you stared up at him. Eddie first appeared flustered and confused, but he quickly brushed it off as he seemed to slowly realize what you were doing.

“You’re not half bad at this, you know,” Eddie teased, his eyes shining as he said in a slightly lower voice, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost believe you liked me.”

Despite yourself, your cheeks warmed a little, but you hoped that it wasn’t obvious. Or maybe you did want it to be obvious. There was just something about Eddie’s tone that threw you off your rhythm, and you mentally kicked yourself for it.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” The flirty expression on your face juxtaposed your flat tone, and Eddie’s face looked almost wicked in response.

“No, that’s supposed to be your job.”

You had to pull your eyes away from Eddie’s - you had absolutely no interest in him, but this performative flirting was starting to mess with you a little. That’s something you’d have to work on as well, because you didn’t need this plan to confuse you one bit.

You didn’t realize how long the two of you had been standing in the hallway, as the ring of the fourth period bell nearly startled you. You found Eddie’s eyes again, giving him as cute a smile as you could muster.

“Go before you land yourself in detention.” You instructed; Eddie grinned widely while shaking his head.

“I practically run detention.” He, again, brushed his fingers along the small of your back as he moved past you, holding your eyes as you watched him go, “I’ll catch you later.”

You gave a small wave before dipping into the classroom, eyes roaming over everyone as you walked to your seat. You caught Duncan looking at you knowingly.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

By Friday afternoon, Amelia was over your spat earlier in the week, insisting that you sit with them at lunch, to which you begrudgingly agreed after she kept pestering you. Well, maybe she wasn’t entirely over it - her snide little comments throughout the week made that abundantly clear. But, just as most teenagers do, she chose to pretend it didn’t happen and go on with life as usual. She ignored the little glances Eddie would shoot you in the hall, the little knowing looks you two shared, and you didn’t mention your new seat next to him in math class.

After classes ended for the day, you were amongst a group of students lingering in the parking lot, everyone discussing that night’s football game and other upcoming plans for the weekend. You actually managed to hold a half-decent conversation with a couple of the cheerleaders and a boy you once upon a time had a crush on back in freshman year; that never went beyond making out drunkenly a couple times at parties. Nearby, Duncan entertained a group with some story that probably wasn’t as interesting as everyone acted; he hadn’t acknowledged you this entire time, and had made it a point of ignoring you since Wednesday.

The group seemed to be in agreement that they’d all go out after the football game, and of course it was presumed that meant everyone, including you. You avoided saying anything on the subject so you wouldn’t be held accountable for it later.

At some point in your conversation, your former crush made a puzzled face at something past your shoulder. You mirrored his expression curiously, looking behind you to see what caught his attention.

Eddie was approaching the group. You had to give him credit, it was ballsy to come up to a dozen popular kids as the guy who was almost universally hated in this school. In that moment, you appreciated Eddie’s confidence and lack of fear.

You decided you’d rather spare yourself the headache of everyone ganging up on Eddie, so stealing a glance at the group, you slid off the hood of the car you sat on, walking away from them without another word. As you met him halfway, Eddie gave you a devilish grin, his eyes drifting from you to the crowd of kids just beyond your shoulder. You raised your brow challengingly at him, but managed a small half-smile at his presence.

You briefly wondered what they were all thinking, what they were all saying. You hoped it was nothing good at all.

“They sure look happy to see me.” Eddie commented, casually sliding his hands in his pockets with a lazy grin once you two came together.

Just like you’ve been working on, you stood closer to Eddie than you would have liked, giving a performance even as your back was turned to all of your friends and acquaintances. You needed to be convincing at all times, so you tried to think about all the little details that would suggest you were interested in Eddie, even if no one could see your face - leaning in as you spoke, twiddling your fingers, etc.

“So, are you asking me out now?” You tilted your head to one side as you asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

A small huff escaped Eddie’s nose, “You’re a real romantic, you know that, princess?”

“Aren’t I just?” You taunted, eyes narrowing.

Keeping his face cool, Eddie leaned forward so you were nearly eye level with one another, a smirk still resting on his lips as he responded in a prodding tone, “I’m going to ask you out now. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

You made a face at his mocking tone, but nodded nonetheless, staring at him impatiently. Eddie put on an extra charming smile for the audience inevitably watching your interaction as he stood back to his full height.

“Then in that case,” He paused to eye you up and down with an expression you’d never seen on his face before - if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve bought it, and you nearly flushed at that thought. Eddie projected his voice, not so loud that it was obvious, but just enough that some of your friends were certain to hear him, “So, what do you say? Let me take you out tonight, anywhere you want.”

“Tonight?” You asked with actual surprise while Eddie smiled at you with a charming look on his face.

“Unless you have something better going on.” Eddie taunted while stealing a glance at the group behind you, his expression growing almost too cocky considering that you both knew that you couldn’t say “no.”

You were certain the group was watching your conversation unabashedly, if Eddie’s attentive eyes were anything to go on. You traced your tongue along your lower lip as you drew out the moment just as Eddie had done to you before. When it seemed that you were taking too long, his gaze flicked back down to you.

“I really hope you don’t have something better going on.” He added as if he were getting nervous, as if this was real and the feeling of rejection was creeping up on him. You raised your brows tauntingly, your expression a little mean, and Eddie realized you did this on purpose. He just had to refrain from letting his impatience show on his face.

You finally show him mercy, adding a flirty smile despite the fact that your friends still couldn’t see your face, “Anywhere I want, huh?”

You could practically feel the impatient exhale that escaped Eddie, his eyes showing the slightest bit of annoyance at you. But he kept that charming grin in place.

“Anywhere.”

“Then it’s a date.” Your tone is a little brighter as you try to convey excitement.

You turn back in the direction of the group so that you could walk to your car, Eddie coming up alongside you. Your stride is confident despite all eyes on you, and you can see some of them whispering to one another. As you breeze past with Eddie beside you, you see Duncan shaking his head in disbelief, while another friend makes a harsh comment about Eddie.

“Pick me up at 7,” You start to instruct, letting your cool eyes look over the crowd of popular kids, “figure out if any good movies are showing, I’m craving popcorn.”

Once you two reach your car, you lean your rear back against the driver door while looking up at Eddie who now had his back to the group. You almost enjoyed the reversal, as you were able to catch every small glance sent your way by Amelia, Janet, and everyone else; now you could see just how harshly everyone had been staring at you before.

You whispered, forcing Eddie to stand a little closer, “We’re not actually going out tonight, I have something going on.”

“Damn,” Eddie teased with a false grin, “you got my hopes up.”

“But we do need to make plans soon,” You continue, ignoring his sarcasm, “We have to figure out how this is going to work.”

“And it’d be nice if your fake boyfriend actually knew anything about you.” Eddie added, to which you made a face despite knowing he had a point. A curious look crossed his face, as if what you said about having plans just a moment ago was finally setting in, “So… what do you have going on tonight?”

“Not telling.” You answer simply as you give him a wicked grin. Your eyes trail back to the group of your former friends for a split second, and in an impulsive act of defiance, you lean up to kiss Eddie on the cheek, his barely-there stubble tickling your lips. You pulled back with a flirty look, desperately fighting the impulse to make a face at the physical contact that you just initiated, “We’ll talk next week, Munson.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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totaly-obsessed · 3 months

Text

Casual

➳ Nika Mühl x reader

➳ Happy late Birthday to me, let's hope 21 will be better than 20...

➳ You're casual until you're not

➳ based on this request

➳ Word count: 1.510

My friends call me a loser 'Cause I'm still hanging around

“You are such a loser, it’s sad to see.”

You knew your friend was right too. Sitting in the crowd of a UConn Huskies basketball game, watching your, whatever she was. Certainly not your girlfriend, she likes to make that one quite clear.

“I’m gonna say it - she’ll never love you back.”

“You don’t know that.”

Just a second later Nika made a huge block, sending the ball to Paige and it didn’t take much longer until they scored the next points. The filled-to-the-brim Gampel Pavilion was on its feet, students celebrating the great play left and right. Meanwhile, you were still sitting, staring at the brunette on the court, who seemed to feel it. That goddamn cocky smirk on her face as she blew you a kiss.

“She’s just fucking with you.”

“Maybe. But it’s fun.”

You said, "We're not together" So now when we kiss, I have anger issues You said, "Baby, no attachment"

“You’re already leaving?”

Nika had just come back from the bathroom, throwing you a towel before turning to the door, hand on the handle. “We’re not together.”

Her back was still to you, hiding the saddened expression, desperate to hide it from you as long as she could. Hand still shaking from the work she had put in, before covering you with a blanket and rushing to the bathroom.

“I know. I just thought -” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before she turned around with a deep sigh. For a moment she just stood there admiring you as you were still in bed. Three long strides was all it too until she was back right in front of you, your noses touching.

“Baby, no attachment.”, you could feel her warm breath hit your face, as your eyes shut. This hurt. You knew that the Croatian didn’t want attachment, but damn this hurt more than you thought.

You thought she would just leave you, afterall she wanted no attachment. But then her soft lips were on yours, and it must have been the most passionate kiss shared between the two of you, as she straddled your hips, much like she had been a couple of minutes ago. Breathless and panting you tried chasing her lips as she pulled back.

“I have to go now.”

I know what you tell your friends It's casual

“Just tell her Nika.”

You didn’t want to, but couldn’t help listening into the conversation between Paige and Nika, who sat behind you in a lecture you were mostly sure the blonde didn’t even attend. She had snuck in, and they had sat down right behind you.

While you did not feel Nika staring at you, Paige certainly did. But her whispering skills left much to desire as she was speaking in what would be a normal tone for everyone else.

“What do you want me to tell her? That it’s casual? She knows that.”

The brunette guard saw you flinch at her harsh words and immediately regretted them. Sure she wanted you to hear her, different to her ‘twin’ She actually knew how to whisper, and she knew that you knew that as well. The number of times a ‘come to my dorm after this’ had been whispered in your ear after a game was far larger than you wanted to admit.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

It's hard being casual When my favorite bra lives in your dresser

Usually, Nika had the dorm to herself at this time of the week, so seeing Caroline open the door really had been a shock to you. She didn’t even question why you were there, opening the door further to let you in.

Fuck the whole team was there.

“What do you want?”

KK’s head snapped around, looking at her teammate “Damn Nika, you could be a bit nicer.” The only reply the freshman got was a shove back as the Croatian made her way over to the door, an iron grip on your wrist as she dragged you to her all too familiar room, “Shut up KK.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know they’d be here.”

Nika nearly didn’t hear you, she was way too focused on your MakeUp before letting her eyes wander to your outfit. “What are you wearing?”

“It’s a dress.”

If you hadn’t been so annoyed with her you would have found the way her eyebrow shot up and her pissed-off face incredibly hot.

What were you talking about? It was incredibly hot.

“Why are you here?”

The Croatian tried to figure out if you were there to surprise her, all dressed up, or if there was a different reason. Either way, she certainly wouldn’t complain about having you here looking like a goddess. Especially not after practice had gotten under her skin today.

“I’m going to a party and I think I might have left my favorite bra here. Have you seen it?”

You didn’t wait long until you started ‘searching’ her room. Looking under the blanket you knew was soft and warm, and in every corner, Nika could have flung it. “You’re going out?”

The sharp glance you threw her was enough to shut her up. Something that slightly surprised you, as well as her. With an annoyed tut at the mess you were making, she walked to her dresser, pulled the bottom drawer out, and pointed at it. “Right there.”

The drawer was nearly empty, except for your favorite bra, a pair of fluffy socks you were missing, and some of your work papers you must have forgotten here.

“Damn Nika. It almost looks like you care. Storing all my things, and I am sure you washed them as well.”

Ignoring your quip at her, she watched as you took your stuff out, before putting it all back, except the bra. It lifted a bit of the burden on the brunette's heart. It meant you were coming back to her room.

“Who are you going out with?” You had just come back from her bathroom, changed into the newly acquired, very nice smelling, bra - and Nika could see why it was your favorite. Stunned, she watched as you went back to the drawer, placing the one you had just worn in there.

“Have to leave you something for your fantasies, don’t I?” But Nika didn’t even listen to you.- “Who are you meeting?”

I try to be the chill girl But honestly, I'm not

Your plan had backfired.

Well, it worked and then backfired.

Just as you had planned Nika dragged her friends to the club you would be partying at. It had only five minutes until she had kissed the information out of you.

But instead of you making her jealous, it was Nika making you jealous. If she wanted to or not, but the pretty little redhead getting closer and closer to the Croatian, until she was pretty much sitting on her lap, was your worst enemy in the world.

“Girl you gotta be chill.”

Your friends had been amused at first with how pissed you looked, but with every passing second the probability of you actually going over and committing a crime got higher, so they stopped finding it funny.

“I’m trying.”

“Gotta try harder then.”

You swear you could feel bile rising in your throat, after hearing a squeaky voice go “Your hands are so big!”, louder than anything you had heard before. You didn’t hear Nika’s reply, but you didn’t try to as you made your way to the bathrooms.

“Your hands are so big.”, you mimic in the mirror as you were washing your face, pulling faces of disgust, not noticing a certain someone behind you. Until hips met your ass, and you knew these hips.

“Don’t you agree with her? Aren’t my hands big? Hmm?” You could feel said hands gripping your hip before making their way down to your thighs.

“Shut up. I’m not coming home with you today.”

“That’s what you always say.”

And she was right. You did join her, on her way home, in her bed, and in her shower before going back to bed.

I hate that I let this drag on so long, now I hate myself Hate that I let this drag on so long, you can go to hell

Your head was resting on Nika’s chest, a very comfortable position if you had to admit, her hand going through your hair as you were listening to her heart.

The stabs to your heart were ignored for just a couple of minutes of peace with the girl you had inevitably fallen in love with. you had taken hit after hit coming from her, just to lay on her chest and take her in.

“Have you ever thought about making it more than casual? You know, us? I think about it all the time.”

She had to be kidding.

Putting you through hell and back, laughing at you when you got jealous, telling you ‘We’re not together’ and ‘Baby, no attachment’.

“Fuck off Nika.”

#azzi fudd #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #wlw #lgbtq #nika mühl x reader #nika muhl x reader #nika mühl #nika muhl #seattle storm #paige bueckers

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hotnbloodied · 10 months

Text

Yan!Loser X Reader

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

TW: kidnapping, drugging, non-con kissing and touching, stalking, mentions of axe body spray.

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

Pt. 2

It was around lunch time and you were on your way to your university’s canteen. You normally had lunch a little later to avoid the crowds but today you couldn’t hold your hunger in at all and you needed to get something to eat. In doing so the canteen was packed and by the time you had gotten some food all the tables seemed full. You scanned around for a little bit before noticing a small table that only had one person sitting at it. A guy with a small frame and black baggy clothes with messy unkempt hair. Without thinking too much about it you walked over. “Hey sorry to bother, would you mind if I could just sit here and eat?” You asked.

He looked like he jolted a little and looked at you like he'd seen a ghost. “Y-yeah…” Not much of a response, but that didn’t stop you from going ahead and sitting down to start devouring your food. After you were finally satiated you looked over cause you felt like someone was watching you and needless to say, his eyes were glued on you.

“Uh, do I have something on my face?” You asked him. His face whipped away. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” You laughed and told him it wasn’t a big deal. “What’s your name anyway? I’m (y/n), majoring in (major).” He raised his head to look at you again. “I’m Lester, I’m a biology major…” “That’s awesome!” You look at the time. “I should probably head out, my next class starts soon. See you around though!” Little did you know that your small act of kindness would come back to haunt you.

A couple of weeks pass and you seem to be seeing Lester more and more around campus. (Totally not because he’s trying to learn your schedule at all.) You don’t pay too much mind to it though considering a new friend is always nice. (As if he’d allow you to just be friends with him.) The two of you exchanged social messaging information which turned into an easy way for Lester to keep tabs on you. (You really should be careful about how you share your information.) You didn’t notice the increase of interaction from Lester, you were too sleep deprived and worried about school to notice which he’s grateful for since it’ll make it easier to make plans. Lester was a patient man, he knows how to make a pay off extra sweet.

You learn a bit more about Lester, even though he has a messy appearance he actually is a relatively neat person. He seemed to shower regularly and his clothes weren’t being reworn, but he only chooses to use axe body spray at his age for some reason. He doesn’t seem to have many friends cause, shocker, he’s an extreme introvert; Which makes you pity him which he fully knows and uses to play into to get your trust. With that trust he invites you over to his house, apparently his parents are in the science field as well and as long as Lester keeps his grades up they’d let him do whatever. The two of you would hang out and study at his place.

Six months had passed in a blink of an eye and the two of you were watching a movie together, it wasn’t that late but you felt extremely sleepy for some reason. The two of you just ate dinner that Lester cooked. “Hm? What’s wrong (y/n)? Are you tired?” “Haha, yeah I don’t know why. Maybe I was more tuckered out with finals than I thought.” “Why don’t you stay over? You’re more than welcome to spend the night.” You didn’t reply to Lester, it was because the sleeping pills he slipped into your drink worked like wonders and you were out like a light. Lester slowly dragged your body to his room and laid you on his bed. Chains were ready for you as he securely bound you to them. He loomed over your sleeping body in his bed, he couldn’t keep the excitement in his pants at bay. He took advantage of your lips and dry humped your leg, imagining what it would be like to finally be able to become one with you. Oh if only you knew how love sickness ran in his family. How that’s how his mom ensnared his dad and how having his ground and alibi covered was a learned family skill. No one will find you and you two will live happily together, forever. <3

Pt. 2

Lester <3

#lovesick #yandere #yandere male #obsessive yandere #obsessive love #obsession #male yandere #male yandere x reader #gender neautral reader #gn reader #yandere writing #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere boy #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #x y/n #y/n

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gay-dorito-dust · 9 months

Note

I came from your Saltburn post, I will do anything to read some Oliver quick fluff. Wether the reader is sick or how they’d get along at a party and be drunk together 🫶

Oliver, upon overhearing from your friends that you had come down with a common cold, immediately decides to take advantage of the situation in hopes of getting closer to you; by proving to you that he would be there for you in your time of need. Sick or otherwise.

Oliver would act overly sympathetic towards you during your recovery period, considering how vulnerable and susceptible you looked, especially as you took respite within the comfort of your bed; in hopes to evade going through yet another violent episode of cold shivers as you stared at him through bleary eyes.

‘Oliver.’ You asked, voice raspy from the continuous coughing you’ve been doing since this morning. ‘What’re you doing here, didn’t nobody tell you I was sick?’ You add, not wanting him nor your worst enemy to experience what you were currently going through. It was hell, pure, genuine hell. You couldn’t even stick one limb out of bed before immeditly retreating back under the covers.

It also didn’t help that your favourite pair of fluffy slippers were halfway across the room…

‘Oh, I overheard from a few of your friends that you weren’t well, and took it upon myself to bring a couple of things that I’d think would help.’ Oliver replied as he then awkwardly lifted the bag full of snacks, medication, amongst many other things with a sheepish shrug of the shoulder. You smiled softly. How sweet. You thought to yourself as you watched Oliver begin to unload the contents of the bag onto your bed. ‘You didn’t have to do this all for me Ollie, I don’t want you getting sick or anything because of me.’ You told him but Oliver only gave you a smile in response as his beautiful eyes stared at you intently with an expression you couldn’t quite place your finger on…

Oliver on the other hand was thriving, sure he wanted you to get better in due time, but until then he’ll engrave your dependency on him so deeply and so intricately into the depths of his mind forevermore; acting more or less as a delusional self serving reminder to himself that you needed him to function in this life filled with vapid cunts and losers.

He was all you needed in life and he was more than willing to risk catching your sickness if it meant furthering his ambitions of further integrating himself into your life fully. If anything Oliver hopes he catches your sickness so that you would feel the need to pay the kindness he had displayed towards you forward.

‘It’s alright y/n, honestly.’ Oliver said with a chuckle as he made sure you were tightly tucked in and your pillows were fluffed for extra comfort, making sure that you see the effort he puts in just for you and only you, just like he always has done before seating himself comfortably on the edge of your bed, always conscious of being fully within your line of sight as his body acted as a blockade for your sight of the doorway; forcing you to look at solely him.

‘I’m not scared of getting a little sick if it meant helping you back to full health, isn’t that what friends are for? Helping each other?’ Oliver adds in an odd tone, but you were adamant it was the cold talking, and only continue to smile at his seemingly sweet and caring actions. ‘You’re the best Ollie, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.’ You uttered whilst biting back a yawn, the need for sleep having begun to take over once more as your eyelids began to grow heavy and harder to keep open with each blink. ‘You’re truly a lifesaver Oliver Quick and I love you for that.’ You added on in a sleepy daze.

To Oliver on the other hand, you might as well have been cohesive and clear as day, with how intently he hung onto those words, feeling a strong fluttering sensation within his chest; something he always got whenever you said anything that remotely encouraged his obsessive and suffocating behaviour. Slowly but surely he was getting what he wanted and he wasn’t about to rush the process now, not with how much meticulous planning he had put into every chance encounter he got with you.

Oliver had to practice his patience more but you were too tempting of a person for him not to lunge towards. A forbidden fruit laid within the garden of Eden in every sense of the word.

‘I love you too.’ He said in a low murmur before running his hand across your forehead, collecting the accumulated sweat there. ‘Get some rest, it’s fine,’ Oliver utters as he watched your eyes close and your body settles in for sleep, ‘ for I’ll be here when you wake up.’ He finishes, eyes never once leaving you for a single second.

#saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #Saltburn imagines #oliver quick x reader #Oliver quick imagines #Oliver quick imagine

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 2 years

Text

How does it look? Ah, it’s an improvement

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: Ok, so another gap between updates, but for everyone that's still here, I hope you guys enjoy it, your comments and asks give me life 💕

Part 6 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

In the days after your little run in with König at the gym, things had been tense with the guys. So much so that until you could find time for a ‘covert’ date, you’d tried to avoid him like the plague. Of course that meant that he was open to attack from the rest of your team, but you figured, what harm could they really do? Well as it turned out, after finally lifting your self imposed ban, he’d said they’d been on him like bloodhounds.

Apparently there was no limit they would reach to defend your honour, not that it needed defending in the first place (but you couldn’t tell them that). After a mixture of the guys trying to warn him, threaten him, jump out at him, knock his tea off of the counter and throw his food in the bin, they’d made it difficult for König to do much of anything around base. Your mind had buzzed in a near constant state of anxiety, waiting to see what they’d do next.

Luckily for your frayed nerves and König’s safety however, they stopped being as harsh to him as time went on. In only a couple weeks in fact, they’d stopped attempting to jump him and threaten him away from you, and instead took to glaring at him and giving him what you called the ‘school girl treatment’. Sure, bitching about him and saying they couldn’t wait to put Ex Nihilo in the ground once and for all so they could flush out KorTac wasn’t particularly helpful for team morale, but it meant that you didn’t need to worry about your lover getting shanked anymore.

If you were being honest, you couldn’t help but feel he deserved it a little given it had been his bright idea to rile you up in the first place. That’s what you get for trying to show off in front of Ghost. However that didn’t mean you didn’t still worry for him, far from it. You were practically biting your tongue off whenever König would happen across your path.

“Didn’t anyone tell you the love of your life aint in your chain of command Soap?”

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

You snorted as Soap shot you a glare. He’d momentarily distracted himself from pinning Ghost only to end up rolled over and under the heavy frame of the Lieutenant - who he’d only just managed to hold down himself. His body landed on the ground with a thundering crash, and at the very same time he let out a small ‘oof’ you held your hands at your mouth and tried to hold back on the stream of laughter threatening to burst out. Not that that was any use, you were breaking in no time, squealing like a kid. Served him right for getting cocky. He’d been leaning hard into Ghost, his eyes level and lips caught in a ridiculous smirk.

“Looks like the next rounds on you again, Johnny boy!” Ghost chuckled, releasing Soap before he snapped something.

“No! No, no, no, I call bullshit on that,” Soap huffed, jumping to his feet like a jack in the box. “The only reason you won was because that little dick couldn’t keep their mouth shut.”

Your fellow sergeant held an accusing finger up at you, his face going pink in anger. Sore loser. You gasped in mock offence then proceeded to shoot him your best puppy eyes and shrugged, perfecting a show of innocence that would make an angel weep.

“Me?”

“Yes you! Love of your life’s not in your chain of command’,” he echoed, pitching your words up like a little girl. “Fuck off!”

“I don’t sound like that,” you sniggered, watching as his face got redder. “Don’t be a sore loser Soap.”

Soap hit the mat just shy of his thigh, pounding it as if it were a way to wage revenge, working himself up as you and Ghost continued to laugh like hyenas.

Ghost eventually joined your side, he picked up the water bottle he’d abandoned by his workout gear and took a long gulp, huffing as he lowered the bottle back down. Ghost’s breathing was laboured and you could smell the sharp stench of sweat coming off of him in waves, apparently even with your intervention, that hadn’t been an easy victory. You knew that well enough yourself, you were only barely able to beat him sometimes, he’d earned his nickname just as much as you’d merited yours.

“I almost had the bastard this time!” Soap huffed, slumping. “If it hadn’t a’ been for you.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better I’ll pay for it,” you offered, rising to your feet. “Given you both go get a shower, you guys fuckin’ stink.”

Soap smirked at that, his eyes regaining their lost spark as if he’d been given a jumpstart. You didn’t care for it.

“Really? I don’t think I smell too bad,” Soap said, his voice taking on an edge again. “C’mere, let me make you really pay for it!”

“Wait, what are you- ew! No! Get away from me!”

You squealed as Soap made a dash for you and hopped out the way from his grabbing arms, jumping away like a scared cricket. Unfortunately he was blocking the exit, forcing you into the corner of the room, keeping you on the edge of your toes while he held his arms up, torturing you with the threat of a hug. It took everything in you to keep track of where the mats were and not to slip on the shiny wooden floors, squeaking with every step you took as you frantically traversed the hall.

“It’s just like you said Sneaky, can’t fraternise outside my rank. Guess that just leaves you!” He laughed, making another unsuccessful lunge at you.

“I’m sure Gaz…is around here somewhere,” you said, breathing hard as you continued to duck and dive from him.

Despite Mactavish’s best efforts, you still managed to elude him. When he leapt for you, you strafed away and even when he’d successfully grab your arm, you’d break his hold before he could wrap you in his stinking death grip.

You were so close to the exit now. You’d danced your way there, too busy walking backwards and throwing Soap off of your intentions that you were taken unawares when you backed into something solid where an empty doorway should’ve been. It was only when two familiar big hands drew round your frame to steady you, that you realised exactly who you’d bumped into.

“Careful Sergeant,” König said, his voice surely thick with a grin. “I see training in the 141 is as rigorous as ever.”

You sigh, taking a cautious look over at Ghost who has his eyes locked on the offensive figure behind you. Even as Ghost stood there smelling like week old laundry he’d acted as if König had dragged putrid roadkill into the room and asked him to take a bite.

“You wanna test how good our training is, König?” Soap barked, puffing his chest out like a cartoon gorilla.

You rolled your eyes.

“No thank you, I’m afraid I’d get terribly bored.”

“Funny,” Ghost said plainly, tilting his head. “Maybe we could find out how interesting you find us once you let go of Sneak. Could make sure those dirty mitts don’t linger too long again.”

You could feel his fingers dig into your skin, and with just a cursory glance up to the slits in König’s mask, you knew he hadn’t been meaning to clutch onto you for so long. Though, even in your haste to be subtle you didn’t miss the wink he gave you when he let you go, or the way his fingers brushed against you like falling silk. Clearly someone had been missing you. Probably as much as you’d missed him.

“Apologies,” he’d said, not able to resist whispering after, “lucky for him he doesn’t know where these ‘mitts’ were last weekend.”

You choked on your next breath and turned so that your back was to the others before they could see your haunted expression. König was becoming a master of landing you in the shit. Even as you tried to glare at him, your paranoid mind wondered if they could see your body buzzing with worry.

“Why are you here, König?” you asked, voice shaking with a hundred different emotions.

Even under the darkness of his full hood, König’s eyes sparkled with mischief and you didn’t miss the playful raise of his brows. He was continuing to wage war on you, even when you giving him the ‘stop fucking with me’ look. He was going to hear about that later.

“Curiously enough, Price sent me. He wanted me to tell you to come to his office.”

Everyone’s breaths were collectively stolen from the room.

“Price? Price asked you to talk to Sneak for him?” Soap said dubiously, first to ask before anyone else could.

You were too busy wondering if he’d figured something out.

“Funny isn’t it?” König said, his gaze squarely fixed on you. “He was in a rush to sort something and unfortunately for him, I was the only one around. I think you’re being sent off on a mission.”

You didn’t miss the way his voice dropped in disappointment. If you were going away with Price then it was anyone’s guess how long you’d be away for. Last time he’d spirited away with Gaz he’d disappeared for days, and come back afterwards sagging like a melted ice cream. Whatever you’d be doing, it’d likely tire you out just as much and even if you were to come back through the weekend you’d likely be beat just the same. With that in mind, you knew it was unlikely you’d get to carry out your fun weekend plans with König. That meant it’d be a whole week’s wait until you got to meet with him again.

Fuck.

“Oh…thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course. Can’t ignore an order from the Captain.”

The ‘unfortunately’ didn’t have to be said, it hung in the air between you two like black clouds of smoke. It took everything in you to ignore him from then on, turning instead to your things and stuffing them into your pockets. Your ears burned as they traced his footsteps fading from the doorway, and your chest grew heavy knowing you’d be missing him like hell until you could see him again.

“Fancy that, Price going against his own orders,” Ghost said, folding his bulging arms over his chest.

Always looking for a fight.

“Fuck, probably didn’t even ask that cunt. The thing probably ate the guy that was actually supposed to come get Sneak,” Soap sniggered, finally emerging from his huff.

Oh yeah, they’d taken to calling König names now as well. They particularly enjoyed comparing him to a horrific bug monster which, even as childish as that was, was a little entertaining to you given you knew how much he hated that particular film when you’d tried to show it to him. He didn’t care for monster flicks.

“I don’t think he’d lie,” you shrugged, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Really? I think he’d stab his own mother just to get a giggle,” Ghost snorted.

Clearly you don't know him very well. You laughed even in spite of knowing that what your Lieutenant said wasn’t remotely true, maybe even because you knew how ridiculous it was. They had a lot of fun making him out to be a raging sadist when as far as they were aware he’d done no worse than them on the field. König would stab himself before a hair on his mothers head came to harm, he practically gave half his wage just to make sure she ate well every month.

“Maybe. Even so, I better go see what Price wants. Must be deadly urgent if he was desperate enough to send König,” you said, heading back toward the exit.

“True. Sure you don’t want a reassuring hug before you go?” Soap asked, making a move like he’d come bounding up to you.

“Nope! Not even if this is the job I die on,” you called, speed walking down the corridor before he got any bright ideas.

-☠️-

Just as König had said, you ended up pulled away with Price on reconnaissance. Now, while you’d much rather have been curled up in a hotel room with König and living out your lazy weekend plans, it turned out being away wasn’t all that bad. For one thing, Price was practically his old self with you again and for another it was good to get away from the rest of the 141.

Constantly having to listen to them verbally disassemble the man that you were secretly in love with was a lot and it took everything not to sit there and defend him sometimes. Even then that would just result in an uproar about how you let people treat you. At that point you’d take Price’s steady quiet presence and occasional rumbles about coffee and football anyday.

“You seeing anything Sneaky?”

Price’s hushed voice crackled over your comms, the tiny earpiece was flooding with interference from the busy market. Crowds of people swarmed and overflowing stalls that were bursting with goods, with salesmen boasting about their produce and wares like it was the last day on earth to buy anything. The heat beat down on your back and your outfit did little to help with the glaring sun, one of the pitfalls of wearing baggy clothing to conceal weapons. Your scent mingled with the rest of the sweltering bodies that bumped your sides and moved around you, but most of all you scented the rich foods and the old antiques that filled the stalls. Your senses were going wild, overstimulated to the max.

“Not a fuckin’ thing,” you finally muttered.

You’d been sent out to intercept a meeting between two Ex Nihlio members, according to intel gathered from KorTac earlier in the week they were supposed to meet by one of the spice stalls. It was your job to route them out and figure out if they knew anything about Rousseau’s whereabouts. Only issue was that you were drowning in spice stalls. Both you and Price had taken turns dressing up like tourists with your big nikon cameras and neon bags and were playing a game of spot the terrorist cell with only a prayer that you hadn’t already missed them.

Price was taking his turn up on the roof, nestled conveniently in a skillion like a bird of prey about to strike, watching and waiting with his binoculars up and gun at the ready. You felt safe knowing he was with you, his mumbled words of reassurance kept you sane as you traversed the labyrinthian pathways over and over and had to pretend to take an interest in various trinkets.

However, you’d been on the streets for a couple hours now, you knew that soon enough you’d have to swap again and it’d be your turn to play sniper on the roof. That was - If your aching feet were anything to go by. You sighed and took a look around, deciding to do one last sweep around the stalls before you joined Price and relieved him of his position.

“Hold on Sneak, turn around - don’t be obvious,” Price said, voice coming in low and grizzled from disuse.

You froze in your spot and swallowed, committing yourself to your new task, taking a moment to look through your pockets before palming a warm penny. With a fake gasp, you sent it rolling behind you and leaned down, walking a few paces so that you could retrieve the penny off the ground while looking around for the source of Price’s interruption. When you looked up to the row of stalls across from you, you saw what he’d tipped you off on.

“Try to get in close.”

Situated next to an array of autumn coloured spice piles, were two men wearing dark shirts and trousers, talking hushedly to one another. While you couldn’t be absolutely sure that they were Ex Nihlio, you knew that it didn’t look like they were there to shop. You glanced away from them for a moment and set your sights on a curio stall next to them, stepping almost silently over the gritty path until you reached your target.

Their voices were low, coming in softer than a light breeze, but still you managed to catch a little of what they were saying and you knew the receiver would too. You tilted your head toward them, trying to give Price the best chance of hearing them too; all while you picked up a tiny bird figure barely bigger than one of your digits and held it to your eyes. You softly ran your fingers over the wood like you might bring it to life somehow and turned it this way and that, inspecting it carefully - it was important to make your fascination with the object look convincing.

“Your orders are clear, you are not allowed to move forward.”

“But we have everything in place, we’re ready! I don’t understand.”

The men were tense, their voices strained as they endeavoured to stay quiet.

“We have to be more reserved now. Ever since…he was taken and the tourists were found, things have been different. Plan’s changed.”

“What! because his-”

“Quiet! Not another word. This visit in itself was a courtesy only extended to you, we’ve had to stop everything we had planned, things have changed.”

“I don’t accept that. We have to keep the momentum going or we won’t be taken seriously.”

You breathed out quietly, watching as the stall owner started approaching you and you let a smile melt onto your face, trying to keep up the dumb tourist charade. The woman looked keen as she approached, face reminiscent of a fox’s with her eager golden eyes and high cheekbones. Her lips were curved into a grin and she hunched over the counter tactically surveying her eyes over your form. She was probably anticipating someone stupid, someone that could be easily fleeced.

“It’s a nice statue isn’t it? Are you interested in buying?”

“Uh, yeah I think so, it’s really cute,” you said with a short unsure laugh, trying to keep your voice low enough for Price to hear over. “How much is it though?”

Regrettably for her you weren’t going to be the easy mark that she’d assessed you as. Nevertheless, you still hoped to god she wasn’t going to ask for too much. You’d figured before setting out that you needed to buy some stuff so that you could blend in, but you hadn’t brought an awful lot and you’d already gotten some pastries and drink with the paltry change. Plus the little swallow, for all its tiny size, was very detailed, it’s little carved tail and wing feathers and dark wood would surely drive the cost up. Then there was also the fact that there was no way you’d be able to just accept the given price, you’d have to negotiate so that you had a reason for sticking around.

While you desperately strained to try and hear the argument ensuing between the two men next to you, you weakly haggled with the woman giving her numbers that her lips upturned like a direly unamused theatre mask. Eventually though you both reached an agreement and the little figure was yours, but now you had to work out your next move.

“‘We are from nothing, and we will fight each day until they can never reduce our names to the dirt again’- remember when that was our calling? Remember when we committed to a cause that day, does that mean nothing to you? We must act now!”

“It must mean nothing to you, if you are willing to risk everything just for a moment of glory.”

You didn’t have to struggle to blend in much longer.

A loud shot rang out above the swathes of people around you and suddenly the entire market descended into chaos and terror, people ran and screamed and hid; fleeing like pigeons. You looked over to where the two men had been and saw only one now as he rushed away into the crowd while the other lay dead and bloody on the ground. The man’s pupils were tiny pin pricks staring emptily into the glaring sun, all life torn from the deserted vessel of his body. He’d gone back to nothing after all.

“Price, I'm going after him.”

You tore your eyes from the dead man and chased after his killer, trying desperately to catch up as he faded into the crowds. You weaved and ducked, trying to remain discreet even still as you traced his path and took advantage of the wake he left in the crowd. He was like a speedboat tearing through choppy seas, disgruntled people were pushed to the side and made to move as he bulldozed through and gave you plenty of opportunity to follow.

“You need to stop, Sneak. We don’t know if he has friends hiding around the area! Do you hear me? Stop! Sneak, how copy?”

Price was too late. You’d collided with the man already, strategically shoving him into an alleyway and underneath your body. You both breathed hard, groaning as your knees and his back made contact with the hard ground, but neither of you could afford to feel it for long. He fought his way up, reaching for a knife he’d stowed in a thigh pocket and attempted to plunge it into you before you disarmed him, smashing his wrist against the wall and pounding it with your other.

“I got him pinned down, we’re in the alley a few streets up, he’s fighting back pretty hard,” you growled, thoroughly out of breath from trying to subdue the squirming screaming man.

“That’s not what I ordered!”

“Well what are my orders now?” you asked, gritting your teeth as you punched the man, narrowly missing being hit first.

Price didn’t speak for a beat, the silence was tense as you fought to subdue your target, filled with your gasping breaths and struggling bodies scraping against the grit like sandpaper. You could practically feel the steam that was pouring from Price’s ears coming in through the earpiece, sweat was pooling all over your body, exertion and heat were kicking in. After a moment, your captain finally responded through gritted teeth, his voice crackling all the more as you realised that he was on the move.

“Coming to you now. Hold him there.”

Easier said than done. You felt like a bull rider as you bucked around on top of the stranger trying to subdue his movements with as little force as possible. While it was important to make sure he was kept down and kept quiet, you couldn’t do too much damage or it was worthless even stopping him in the first place. Clearly this man was in contact with Rousseau or at least someone very close to him, so it was of the utmost importance that you brought him in lucid and ready to spill. Or rather spill after some convincing, the look in his eye was that of a man that wouldn’t give you any satisfaction for nothing.

His teeth were bared at you like an animal, one of them metallic and glinting in the sliver of light that emerged through the darkness. His eyes were wild like a feral lion. There was something about his face that terrified you in that moment, the sheer determination to kill you, the will of a man with conviction in his cause to tear you down. You had the upper hand though, finally you’d been able to reach the pistol you’d secreted away at your side and pulled it on him, holding it against him with a soundless ultimatum.

“Get the fuck off me! I’ll have your eyes for this, fucking scum!”

The man ranted and screamed, but even still you weren’t deterred from your task. You kept him pinned down with the gun snug at his temple, praying that Price would be there soon. Luck wasn’t on your side that day though, rarely ever was, suddenly you were sailing onto your back. Stars filled your vision, light melting as the sky faded far away. It was somewhat reminiscent of what you’d seen happen days before, Ghost on top of Soap after his failed victory, Soap stuck to the ground like a monkey under a tigers paw.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked.

Someone that you didn’t recognise, an accent you couldn’t place.

“I’ll be fine! Finish them off and let’s go,” your target responded.

You winced, expecting that to be your final moment, the last thing you ever heard was a dismissal of your efforts. Through the murky darkness two eyes flashed through your head, two crystalline pools that opened like planets in the empty space of your mind. In your mind, König looked back on you smiling, his watchful gaze always reminding you of an angel while he loomed over you, bare chested and warm just like he’d been at the hotel.

Had that been your last though you would’ve died happy, you decided.

Though you weren’t going to die that day, not yet. Another gunshot blasted through the atmosphere, ricocheting in your ears, but as you were still around to hear it and you weren't lying there in blinding pain - well not any more than you’d felt before the gun fired - you deduced the man had missed. Instead another man’s scream rang out and a flurry of footprints followed, scraping to get away.

You opened your eyes, finally able to see again, but felt blinding pain replace your stolen vision. It coursed through your skull and rattled through your back, making you hiss as you sat up and stradied yourself on your scraped up hands. Colours and shapes swelled and swirled before your eyes before condensing and becoming clear. Price took form in front of you seconds later, his hands tight on your shoulders as he grabbed you and gave you a look over, running his hand gently over your head as if you were his child.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he muttered, eyes narrowing harshly as he realised you were ok. “You had no idea who else was there and wouldn’t you know it - who should show up, but one of his little friends”

“I…I already had him before you said to let him go,” you groaned, blinking furiously as you tried not to let the darkness at the edge of your vision take over.

“Is that right? Well, well done to you and your fucking initiative,” he groaned, “Look at you, you look like you’re going to fall apart. Are you ok, can you see?”

“Feels like it too,” you said, smiling weakly. “I can see, things just got hazy for a second there…Did you send the rest of the team after them?”

Price rolled his eyes, the bags under them looking pinched as he kept looking you over. Another group of soldiers had been kept on standby, ready to swoop in and drive you and whoever you might capture, but it didn’t look like Price was thinking of them then. He was focused on you, kneeling across from you and surveying for any changes. He let go of your shoulders, instead propping you up against an old crate that sat abandoned in the alley.

“Course I sent them,” he said eventually. “Don’t think they’ll catch up though.”

“Fuck,” you hissed, feeling the full weight of the blow to your head.

“How bad’s the wound?” you asked, wincing as your fingers came away from it with blood.

“Not bad. Not good either though,” Price deadpanned. “I’ll walk you out of here in a minute. I just want to make sure you’re going to stay awake.”

“Walk? You mean we can’t call an Uber?”

Price didn’t see the funny side of your joke, he shook his head and ran a hand through his beard, taking extra time to scratch as he reached the thicker sides. He was deep in thought, trying to process what had happened, and work out where to go from there. There was a look in his eyes he always got when he was catastrophizing, and you could tell he was in full crisis mode. His steady hands and stiff posture only served to throw off people that didn’t know him well enough.

“What is it?”

“Two of em’ have seen your face now.”

You had already thought of that.

“I know,” you said quietly, finally looking away from him.

Neither of you said anything else for a second. You focused in on the crowd behind you instead, the people that still rushed through the streets trying to avoid a silent threat that had already run far from their paths. Their voices and scampering feet echoed and danced through the alleyway, distracting you from your pain for a moment. Thought still coursed through you in the background, remained swirling through your body like a snake constricting around your brain and back.

“We need to get you out of here and get you to a medic.”

You nodded, you wouldn’t fight him on that. A medic would have pain killers. You tried to rise on your own, gripping the rough wooden crate like a lifeline, but found yourself almost collapsing again until Price rushed to your side and held you up, grunting as he bore your weight. Through the vignette of your fading vision you could see the tight lipped grimace he was giving you and knew you were probably sporting a similar look of your own.

“Don’t try to move on your own, let me help you,” Price growled.

“You gonna carry me all the way back to car?” you asked sceptically, remembering how far you had to go.

“Can’t bloody well leave you. We don’t know if that bastard’s got more friends hanging around.”

“You could stick me in another alley and bring the car closer?” you asked, already knowing what his answer would be,

“Not a chance. C’mon, get moving those feet. That’s an order!”

Stubborn.

You grit your teeth and felt the pain shoot through your back and curl up in your stomach as you moved. You knew you hadn’t broken anything, but you were still feeling the effects of getting winded and the weeping head wound wasn’t helping matters either. Bile rose in your throat at the thought and even as Price kept his arm slung tightly round you, you felt your feet waver and drag across the ground, felt your mind struggling to keep going as your body began to give up.

“Talk to me. Don’t give out on me now,” Price demanded, his breaths coming out punchy like wind hitting a sail.

“Talk about what?” you laughed, wincing with the movement.

“Anything. Keep yourself focused, talk about anything.”

“Ok,” you conceded, thinking for a moment as you were dragged through an empty street. “Why’d you send König to come get me the other day?”

“Really? That’s all you could think of?” Price scoffed.

You were in too much pain to feel any shame or hesitation about pushing. In fact, it was the perfect time to bring up König because there weren’t going to be many other chances for you to leverage a head wound to discuss the subject. It was the perfect thing to direct your energy on and keep you upright.

“You’re the one that told me I wasn’t to speak to him again,” you said measuredly. “It made me wonder why you’d send him to speak to me.”

“He was the only one around and the General wanted us gone ASAP.”

“You could’ve messaged.”

“I needed to make sure you knew to come right away.”

“Are you saying I’m not reliable?” you grinned, almost tripping on a fallen basket because you were so pleased with yourself.

You and Price stopped just before your feet could stumble over the fallen produce and rerouted around it, huffing with exertion. Price’s back was sweating just as much as yours and once again you found yourself cursing at the sun, vowing that you would never spend another minute more in the heat if it meant you could be sent to a cold room with a full deck of meds ready at your disposal.

“If you really want to know, I figured I could trust you now,” Price said, readjusting his grip on you. “After all that's happened.”

“Oh really?”

“Well you wouldn’t want to go near him now after what happened would you?”

You had to hold back a bout of laughter, disguising it easily with a cough. If only he knew.

“Suppose not,” you answered.

“It’s better that way…associating with a man like that, you’d only end up at the top of someone’s shit list.”

“You think he’s got enemies?”

“Why else do men like Ghost and König wear masks?” he huffed. “You’d be vulnerable with him, even if he is a one man army. He couldn't protect you if the people he’d pissed off came after you.”

You pursed your lips and looked toward the end of the street, sighing as you remembered the car wasn’t that far away. The last thing you needed when you were trying not to go wobbly was Price making you doubt König. Instead you faced forward and kept on marching, narrowing your eyes as you fought off the darkness.

-☠️-

“Are you absolutely sure that you like wearing that shirt?”

You laughed as König hovered above you, pausing in his assault on your neck so that he could play with the hem at your neckline. His hemline rather.

“You said you wanted to look after me this week, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah, but not at the expense of my only clothing,” he said, smiling at you with narrowed eyes.

You rolled your eyes at him and kissed him, planting your lips firmly on his so as to silence his protests. All was right in the world again. You’d been dismissed for a week because of your head wound, something about you having suffered from a concussion before so you were being forced to take leave and had decided to spend your time wisely. In other words, telling Price you were going to visit family, when in actuality you were shacked up in an airbnb close to the base so that König could come visit you and stay the night.

Eventually he broke away from you and shook his head, rolling off the bed and causing an earthquake, causing the springs to groan and for the mattress to shake like jelly beneath you. You watched him as he stood and stretched. His body illuminated by the streetlamps outside the windows, the dull yellow contrasting harshly with the dark blue shadows that snaked over his taut muscles, meeting like intertwined fingers at his ribs.

“Is it because it's the Rammstein one?” you asked, sitting up to admire him easier. “Because I’m taking good care of it.”

He shook his head again and made his way to the door.

“I know you’re taking good care of it. I just don’t have a lot of shirts to wear,” he explained, disappearing for a moment.

You huffed and folded your arms, obscuring the blocky logo in the tangle of your intertwined limbs. The guilt trip wasn’t going to work, this was your shirt. You felt like you’d earned it after you’d forgotten home comforts and stayed in a stranger’s house all to be with him. Not that he wasn’t taking fantastic care of you.

You watched as he came back in with a couple glasses of water and set them down on each of your respective bedside tables and disappeared again so he could grab two bowls, walking in with steam obscuring his face. You unfolded your arms, forgetting all about your upset and took in what he’d brought you. He’d heated some soup for you both and ensured that you were propped up nicely before placing yours in your lap, joining you at your side so that he could eat his. The smell of parmesan and vegetables drifted into the air, forcing your stomach to growl in anticipation.

“Thank you, König,” you hummed.

The soup was delicious. It was unmistakably from the Italian deli that König knew you liked to frequent as a treat and you’d deduced he must’ve been earlier in the day to pick up a takeaway just for you. Even if he were being a stickler about his clothes, he still remained sweet and ensured you had every little comfort you could want for while you recovered.

Truth was, you hadn’t really felt that bad once you’d been patched up and given a few Codeine. The pain in your head had dulled to a low thud and more than anything it was background noise to the host of other complaints you could make about your battle torn body. Though König wouldn’t hear of it. He demanded that you stay in bed as he fussed around you and cuddled you like a sickly kitten. It was a wonder you were allowed to even roam the apartment by yourself with the way he coddled you, a miracle you weren’t wrapped in cotton wool and shrunk into his pocket for safe keeping.

“Why is it that you’d want to wear one of my dirty shirts anyway?” König asked, breaking the silence.

You snorted, only just swallowing the spoonful of soup you’d taken and shrugged, a coy smile weaving its way onto your face.

“It smells like you. Makes me feel safe,” you said finally, only a smidge embarrassed.

“And what do I smell like?”

“I dunno…just like you,” you shrugged. “Manly I guess, and I can smell that stupid cheap citrusy soap you use.”

“Don’t belittle my soap just because you like to buy the best,” he retorted.

“That’s right, practicality over frivolity…How German,” you said with a sly smile.

He froze mid spoonful, just about to eat another before he paused and shot you a withering side eye. You’d delighted in finding out another way to tease him, getting to play with him all you wanted while you recovered.

“You call me German one more time, I’m taking the shirt off your back and leaving you naked to fend for yourself,” he said simply

“Oh c’mon, you’d never do that.”

“I just might,” he smiled, taking his last spoonful and letting the cutlery clatter to the empty bowl. “You know the difference.”

“In fairness you did live there for quite a while until you moved back again.”

“Yeah, and that's an even better reason for me to enjoy being Austrian.”

“Such a mean man, poor Germany!”

You playfully shoved at his thigh with your foot and giggled when he caught it in his hand and threw it back. It sent you both laughing and soon you abandoned your soup bowl onto the table and took your little game to the next level, diving onto him before you were promptly flipped onto your back and pinned under König, resuming your usual position.

“Poor Sneak,” he laughed ominously. “Still hellbent on defending the Germans?”

“If I say yes are you gonna do that thing I hate?”

“Only one way to know for sure.”

You huffed out a breath and weighed up your options, deciding if it was really worth being tickled just to keep teasing him. In the end, you didn’t get to decide, you winced as you felt a firework of pain burst through your head and closed your eyes for a second, bunching them shut like you could forget about it behind the darkness of your closed lids. Suddenly you were grateful you were lying down surrounded by the soft topaz sheets.

“Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” König gasped, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

“I’m alright, it wasn’t anything you did,” you assured after a second, taking in a deep breath. “I think it’s time for me to take my meds actually. Is it after eight thirty?”

König leaned up from you and rooted around for his phone. You prayed you were right.

“Yeah, Eight forty. If you sit up, I’ll get them out for you.”

You followed through with his request, inching up the covers and seething with every little jarring shake the bed gave you. It felt like your head was going to burst into a confetti cloud with the amount of pressure that was building. You couldn’t wait till the headaches were done with.

“Here, take these,” König murmured, handing you the pills and your forgotten glass of water.

You threw them back and drank down a big gulp of water, focusing on not choking as you swallowed them as fast as you could. This was one of the worst pains you’d had with it since it’d happened. Stars twinkled at the edge of your vision until slowly, after a little breathing and König stroking your back, you were able to open your eyes and stare back him as he watched you those big doleful eyes of his.

“I’m alright now, it’s ok,” you smiled, trying to reassure him.

“Mm, it’s far from ok,” König hissed, staring harshly to his side for a moment. “If I ever get my hands on those who did this to you, they’ll be sorry.”

You widened your eyes a moment as his fury sunk in and both of you stared at each other for a tense minute. You sat hoping your understanding of the situation might be infectious, wishing he’d accept that they’d just gotten the upper hand. What happened wasn’t personal. He shook his head and let the heat escape him, the fire left his eyes and deflated him, leaving him staring down at the bed a moment until you spoke again.

“I know how I’d feel if it were the other way around,” you sighed, knowing he’d need a little reassurance you weren’t going to run terrified. “But you don’t need to be angry for me. I’m fine, this’ll all be better in a few days, ok?”

He didn’t speak for a second, not until he looked back up at you.

“Ok.”

“Good. Now, c’mere and give me a hug so I feel better.”

His smile returned, curving back onto his lips like magic. You smiled in turn and watched as he put your meds back in the drawer by your bedside, but frowned when he paused and stared inside. He chucked the foil packet back in its place but reached in and retrieved whatever had caught his attention, bringing it front of you in the palm of his hand.

“What’s this?” he asked curiously.

You tilted your head and smiled as you realised it was the wooden swallow you’d unpacked from your bag earlier and shrugged.

“It was the bird I got from the market that day,” you explained. “I found it when I was going through my bag today and chucked it in the drawer.”

He raised his brows and brought the little figure closer to his face, admiring the fine details of it not dissimilarly to the way you’d stared at it in the market. You tilted your head as you watched him and bit your lip, watching the way his eyes took in the little bird with an intense fascination.

“Why don’t you keep it?” you offered. “And then you let me wear this for the rest of the week.”

You rolled your shoulders, showing that you wanted to keep the shirt. König chuckled, but after pretending to be deep in thought about it, sporting a deep frown and a pursed lip, he eventually nodded.

“I suppose I could allow that… we can have shared custody. I get the bird one week and then the shirt for the next,” he said, coming to rest by your side with his arm outstretched, making the bird fly in looping patterns in the air. “Deal?”

You laughed to yourself, but nodded, settling into his warm chest with a satisfied sigh.

“Sounds like a good deal to me.”

Next Part Here

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