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moongothic · 4 months

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Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

#Moon posting #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #Crocodad #Nico Robin #THIS POST WAS AN ACCIDENT. I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED. WHY DID I WRITE THIS. WHAT DEMON POSSESSED ME #I'm sure someone's written this already right #Right #Surely this fanfic already exists #Please tell me it exists #I dunno what to tell you I am not immune to a Juicy AU #Anyway on a more wholesome side of things: Robin accidentally calling Crocodile ''dad'' and he just inhales and swallows his whole cigar #Nearly chockes to death. Gets burns on his throat.#Robin feeling less alienated because of her DF ability because Croc has seen weirder AND is made of sand himself #If anything if they're literally by themselves then Robin being able to literally lend a hand to Croc at any time could be extremely useful #Like. In regular life situations. 'Cause Croc only has one hand. And Robin as many as she wants. Perfect duo.#(Also if they were travelling on like a small ship then it'd probably be built for a Tall Motherfucker like Croc right)#(Robin's ability would just make the ship more accessible to her and Croc would find that independence good)#Robin still gets a codename because Croc can't have anyone realize who she is. Maybe she even wears like a mask or summin' in public #If Crocodile's openly trans and the news of him transitioning recently broke out. Like. No avoiding that convo eh #Baby Robin's like ''...I read in a book once that some reptiles can change sex but I didn't know crocodiles could do it too''#''💦.../Humans/ can't do that normally either''#''Hmmmm. Weird. I don't think being a girl would suit you though'' // ''...I'll take that as a compliment''#I just. I think they could have really cute interactions if they warmed up to each other after a little while #And I'm Extremely Normal about that

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iced-souls · 2 years

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Scribblidoombalo’s

NEW GUY?????

#i was looking through my photos and came across some characters i made a long while ago in gacha club #oh god terrible flashbacks #but there’s a couple characters i made in there where i made a whole set of lore for them #and i miss them so i decided to draw them lol—#that would be jesse carmin hernant and boon #there’s two others that i didn’t get to draw who go with boon and hernant #but OOUUUGHHH NOW I WANNA DRAW SOMETHING FOR THESE DUDES #GAH #there’s about maybe 5 or 6 others characters i got with lore back then as well frickkkkkk #other than these guys all those other guys i made can go in the trash they frickin sucked compared to these dudes #i frickin LOVE Jesse and carmin tho #despite the looks jesse is like a mob boss who’s main place is this one club #carmin is (or w a s) a cop who got fired after she led a mission despite being told not to against jesse’s club #which ended in complete failure with most if not all of her team getting killed #life basically ruined and starting to go broke she decides to go after jesse again by herself #which starts this other thing which is the actual plot but i have just realized I’m rambling so imma stop to spare you all—#if you wanna hear more about tho jus’ let me know i guess lol #might do more stuff with them but WE SHALL SEE #ANYWAYS YE I GOT SOMETHING ELSE TO POST SO BYE BYE—#have a good day #my drawings #school doods #papyrus #solune #lollipop person #adalaide

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leathfaic · 8 months

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My favourite hot take is that Simon adapts way better to being a civilian than Johnny does.

Johnny went and left for the army the second he could do so, relentlessly pushed his career and is, most likely, rarely not on base unless he's been told to fuck off or move his arse home (by either his superiors or family).

Simon on the other hand finished school and then took up an apprenticeship before joining the army. Even then he came home, took prolonged leave to help his family out. He spent way more time just living that reality. And even post Roba he was at home for a while before everything went to hell. He might not take a lot of leave since, because he has nothing to come home to, but he still knows to adjust to it.

If they take leave together Ghost settles remarkably well, still keeping an eye open but he's an adult who had time outside the forces to properly adjust to life.

Soap struggles. He gets by with his charm and bright blue eyes, and that's a good thing because he's too explosive, too intense for most normal social interactions.

He's caught somewhere between the 18 year old boy and the hardened SAS soldier and never spent enough time away to really grow into just John MacTavish. Not Sergeant, not Soap, not the FNG. Just him as a person outside of the military.

He navigates this part of his life like its a minefield. Making it through but boy oh boy, it's not looking graceful.

Ghost helps him mellow out in that regard, pointing out the messy weird mechanics of normal civilan life to him. Teaches him to enjoy that and not let his job ruin him. Simon who knows how quickly it can all fall apart can't help to see the beauty in the peace most people get to experience. He'll be damned if he can't share that beauty Johnny. Even if it's always just for a little while.

And because it's Ghost, who never steered him wrong Soap let's himself be led. Allows himself experiences outside of work and his family. And while he might not be eager to admit it, it makes him a better person.

And years down the line when they both made it out, last mission just one too many that was too close for comfort, all of that helps John MacTavish to adjust. Sure he mourns his life in the military, someone like him is bound to, but he's not too worried. He knows how to get by now. And even the days where he feels very out of his depth, he can approach with ease. Because he still has Simon at his side to show him the way forward.

#this is not meant to infantilise soap #he's a grown and very capable man #but most of his potential he put into his life as a soldier #so he might need some help to realise he's allowed to put as much and more into his personal life #also an interesting twist on how people often portray these characters #i get why it's done but ghost struggeling so much with a life he’d be more familiar with than johnny is weird to me #one of them is the youngest ever SAS operator and put all his time into his work #and its not ghost #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod #cod hc #ghoap

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onsunnyside · 1 year

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🍓° 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Mafia!Ari Levinson x lovesick!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, sweet soft!reader, she’s a little oblivious. size difference: 6’8!Ari, he’s a total beefy hunk. neighbours au, a little tumble, stripper!reader, brief mentions of mafia business, undeniable daddy energy.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | It was a little ridiculous how in love you were… With a single glance, he could make you melt until you’re a pile strawberry ice cream, tied with a pretty ribbon, and sitting on his doorstep.

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝗪/𝗖 | 2.45K

𝗔/𝗡 | just a little something I wrote inspired by Melting by Kali Uchis (also where the title is from). this is my first mafia fic but there isn’t much detail since this is a real itty bitty au. as always, all mistakes are my own. [all posts/asks]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Time seems to slow when he jogs by, clad in shorts and a loose tank top with sweat seeping through the grey. His tan skin is covered in a light sheen, making the dozens of tattoos appear darker. From your seat on the porch, they still look like black blobs and lines stretching from his broad shoulders to his hands.

You’ve never seen them up close, but you have a few ideas of what they might be—a whole page in your diary to be exact.

Your eyes fall to his muscled legs, firm and thick thighs strain his shorts and just the beginnings of dark ink poke from underneath the fabric. You barely notice the ice cream melting down the cone to your hands, too deep in a daze when tingles blossom from your chest to your toes. A dreamy sigh flows from your lips as the wind flutters through his long brown hair, brushing along his bearded cheeks.

He turns to you and flashes a bright smile before turning the corner and disappearing down the street. That single glance makes your heart pound ten times faster, and all of your thoughts tangle into one ball of ribbons, varying in colours, prints and lace, but so evidently you.

If you could, you’d gift him that mess just so he could know how much he affected you without even trying.

"Oh no!" You quickly wipe your hands from the melting strawberry ice cream but it's useless, the pink stains your white dress and drips down to the ribbon around your ankle.

It’s almost too symbolic—the pretty pink bleeds all over your ivory clothes, ruining your life just like the fluttering trapped in your rib cage.

Honestly, it would’ve been easier to hate him, but he was so damn big that you didn’t have any space left in your heart to hate him.

To say you're in love would be an understatement. In every fantasy and daydream, he's the main focus, your co-star, your lover, your saviour draped in silk button-ups and silver rings. Oh, he's everything you've ever wanted! As if you manifested him when you were a young child and wrote about the perfect boy to sweep you off your feet and make your life a living fairytale—everything you scribbled in glittery pen has come true before your very eyes.

You don’t even mind that he and his biker friends rev their engines at three in the morning, but your roommate doesn’t agree, she’s never agreed.

The front door slams shut and you stiffen, hurriedly flipping through a random page in a magazine and desperately trying to act like you were not staring at his house next door.

"Did you do it?"

"Do what?" You ask, voice already on edge. Vibrant red hair comes into your peripherals, as well as a pair of angry green eyes.

Natasha groans, setting down her bag on the kitchen counter. "You chickened out again? I need my sleep before I lose my mind. I can’t get any if he and his dumbass friends treat this street like a fucking race track!”

“They aren’t even that loud—and I bought you earplugs.”

“I am not touching those things until those assholes learn how to be decent human beings!” She rolls up her sleeves and grabs your arm, yanking you from the barstool.

"Wait! What are you doing!"

Her heels stomp on the hardwood floor, nearly shaking the picture frames on the walls, “I messed up five drinks today, do you know how bad that looks when they’re my recipes?” She huffs, "he's out there right now mowing his lawn and you're gonna talk to him."

You grab onto the nearest thing which happened to be the couch and clutched it for dear life. “No—you do it!”

"He doesn’t listen to me!" She digs her fingers into your sides making you yelp and feebly swat her away, but you just screwed up big time. “Just try, baby, please! For me!”

That’s the last thing you hear as you stumble out the front door, tripping over the damn welcome mat and tumbling down the stairs. It’s only a few steps, but it stings when your back thumps onto the stone walkway, your poor elbows cushioning your fall.

You barely catch the engine cutting and rushed footsteps before he appears.

He stands over you with sweat brimming at his hairline, a deeply concerned expression etched onto his face, "awh shit, are you okay?"

As always, the air goes thin and you’re under that dumb lovesick spell again. The sun glows around his head like a halo, melting you to the bone, and leaving a mess on the stone in the same shades as your love—strawberry ice-cream pink.

It’s terrible that you don’t know how deluded your tender heart is.

"You're bleeding," he crouches low, gently examining your elbow, "did your roommate push you down the stairs?”

"No! No, I-I fell.” Obviously! “But I'm okay." You utter, avoiding the peeping redhead through the curtains. Your gaze lands on his long fingers wrapped around your arm. He’s warm, warmer than you thought. Heat radiates off his body and envelops you like an old friend, familiar and calm.

"Are you?" He inquires unconvinced, "here, let me clean you up." He leaves no room for protests as he helps you up and leads you to his porch.

After you sit on the couch, he disappears inside the house before emerging with a large white case. He sits next to you and opens the kit on the table.

"That's a lot of stuff." You note, staring at the packed first aid kit. There are various rolls of gauze, different ointments, and bandages, far more things than your tiny plastic box under the sink.

Judging by his shiny sports car, and his collection of perfectly tailored suits and watches, Ari lived a very different life than you and you’d do anything to know about it. Your naive heart aches for him so badly it almost hurts.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry. Can I touch you, sweetheart?”

You watch him tend to your injury with slow and careful movements, his dark brows knitted in concentration. You’ve never been this close to him, the sudden rush of blood almost makes you lightheaded, but his scent brings you back down. The woody cologne floods your nose, followed by a dash of vanilla with underlinings of musky spice.

“What happened to your other dress?” He glances up, eyes shaded under his thick lashes.

“Oh… It got dirty.”

He hums, “what a shame.” He delicately presses down the edges of the bandage. “That’s one of my favourites. It always makes my day to see you wearing it.”

You swallow down a whimper and clench your thighs, seconds away from dropping to your weak knees. Embarrassment fills your chest, tinged with guilt, “I’m sorry, sir.” The words slip out before you could think.

He cracks a small smile, shaking his head, “it’s okay, just be more careful next time, yeah? Can’t have you ruining the little purple one too, that’s my second favourite.”

Dull thumps hammer inside your head, muffling his raspy voice. You nod silently, digging your sock-clad feet into the concrete.

You take the chance to memorize his tattoos, from the intricate rose by his wrist following the thorn stems up his arm where they entwined with a heavily shaded skull. Thin script is scattered along his skin, you can’t make out the exact words but they’re in swooping cursive, clinging to his flesh like wet chiffon.

His arms tighten as he cleans up, the muscles shifting under his paper-thin t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Every unconscious flex clouds your head, tunnelling your vision until he’s all you can see. A small whine sounds from your throat and his eyes flicker to yours, blue as can be.

“I don’t see you leave very often.” You were either inside or sitting on the front porch with a treat and a magazine, or in the backyard tending to that small garden. “Do you work?”

“I… I did, then I got fired.” The wound was still a little fresh. “But it wasn’t my fault, I swear!”

Ari perks up in interest, although he knows plenty about you, this was strikingly new. Aside from your basic profile, he knew about your past as well, including where you grew up, where your parents lived, and how long you’ve been in this city.

It was only right to know about the two girls living next to his late grandmother’s house. Curtis insisted since Ari wouldn’t let him stay in the old two-storey home, but instead the house down the street.

He came here to be alone and mourn, but that was hard to do with a cute neighbour always staring at him. Yet he stopped caring after you left a small bouquet of hand-picked flowers on his doorstep and an adorable ‘welcome to the neighbourhood!’ note.

He forgot how good it felt to be sought after, rather than feared and honoured like a living legend. You gave him that sliver of normalcy with your longing loved-up looks and quick dashes inside when he pulled into the driveway. To you, sweet-spirited you, he was an ordinary guy, not someone with a history coloured in hues of red and dripping all over his shoes, smearing the black ink of his future; an eternity tied to his family’s glory that’s now his.

“This customer was being so mean and I know I should’ve stayed professional but I was havin’ such a bad day already.” Your bottom lip trembles, flashes of that terrible day flickering through your head, “first I slept through my alarm, then I missed the bus, and my make-up broke in my bag a-and everything was all ruined.”

He reaches out, rubbing your knee soothingly. Poor girl, if it was up to him, you’d never be mistreated. “Where did you work?”

“Venom Vixens.” You sniffle, hoping he isn’t the judgemental type, you’ve known too many people who would humiliate you for your chosen career. “I, uh, I wasn’t one of the girls on stage since I was still new but I liked it there. My coworkers were nice, I got free drinks, and…”

“And?”

“I felt,” you look down at your hands, they were so much smaller than his, “I felt pretty. People go there to look and flirt, and I didn’t mind being on the receiving end of it.”

Ari wouldn’t mind giving you all of that instead.

He licks his lips, imagining you in a tiny lace set, the sheer fabric clinging to your figure while you swayed around the dimly lit club. A piece of art in the sea of ogling and drooling patrons, blooming beautifully under the flattery.

“You liked the attention.”

You giggle, “Yeah, a lot. Sure, some customers were gross and would say nasty things, but others were nice, real nice—they’d tip a lot and compliment me. Most of them were just lonely, they wanted someone to talk to or someone to spoil.”

You don’t regret accepting their fawning or expensive gifts, hell, most of your jewelry was from your loyal clients. Sparkly things paired with sweet words were a one-way ticket to your good books.

“How about your boss?” Ari asks, “how did he treat you?”

Venom Vixens wasn’t only a haven for the lonely or where perverts got their fill, but of course, you wouldn’t know that. You’d have a heart attack if you knew of the shady people who walked in and out of those doors, you’ve probably served a few of them, flashed that bright smile and earned yourself a big tip—unknowingly pocketing the filthy, blood-stained money.

“Mr. Hansen was very friendly, but everything went through him. If we wanted to change a routine, we had to perform it for him first and get his approval. He said it was protocol.” Ari snorts but you don’t catch it, all too distracted with twisting the ring on his middle finger. “He was nice when you were nice to him.”

“So he must’ve always been kind to you. You’re the loveliest girl I’ve ever met.”

You preen under his praise and nod happily, questioning why you were so nervous around him in the first place.

Ari was a flirt—and you loved being flirted with.

“Mr. Hansen called me his favourite before he fired me. That was over two weeks ago, and Nat said I could take my time but,” you sigh, “I feel like a bother.”

He wonders if your best friend would still hate him if she knew he was the reason that her cafe was still standing. Without his ruling over the South district, there would be chaos, and that little joint would’ve been ransacked long ago.

Did he also call for extra protection because you frequented the establishment? Proudly so.

“Are you still looking for a job?” He takes your distant hum as a yes, “Do you want to work for me?”

Your head snaps up, your sparkling eyes wide in surprise.

“I’m opening a new club in a few days and I’ve got a spot left for a performer.” He didn’t, but he had no problem giving someone the boot to make room for you.

Your mouth opens and closes several times, and the thought of Ari owning a club flies straight over your head. You’ve watched him more than your favourite movie but you still didn’t know a damn thing about him, except that he smokes, liked to work out and alternated between a white mustang and a sleek black motorcycle.

Oh, and sometimes he changes in front of his bedroom window.

“You’ll be my boss?”

Say the word, and he’ll be much more than that.

He smirks, gripping your jaw and turning you from side to side, blue eyes flickering over your features, “Sure will. I have a feeling this pretty face will be the main attraction every night.”

Your heart swells when his fingers dig into your cheeks. “I-I would, but Nat won’t like that. She kind of hates you… and your friends.” He adds pressure and your lips pucker, “you’re all s-ho loud wit ya’ bikes ‘n engines.”

Ari bites his tongue, it was either the motorcycles or the blood-curdling screams of the poor soul in the basement. He made a mental note to speed up the process of that soundproof room, he couldn’t have you losing sleep over his business.

“She doesn’t have to know.” He replies, releasing your face in favour of loosely grasping your throat. Your pulse thumps under his fingers, hard and fast, speeding up as he leans closer, “c’mon, don’t you want to be a star? Get all that attention again and make me proud?”

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i just love sweet!readers, they're my faves 🥹 and pairing them with big hunky (secretly soft) men is heaven !! i can't get enough !!!!

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! I love you all very much 😚🫶

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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maggotzombie · 11 months

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the day/night we met ; henry cavill

PAIRING — Henry Cavill x Reader (fem) SUMMARY — On your wedding day, your Maid of Honor prepares a special gift to which you and Henry have distinct responses. WORDS — 1,8k TW — nothing really just a lot of fluff, emotions (I cried a bit writing it), Henry in a suit 😈. A/N — Hi! I'm not dead, just quit the most toxic job ever so I'm getting back here lol Here's a short but very dear fic to me that I wrote last year but never posted. I'm so happy to finally post this! This story has been in my head for two years now and it came out better than I thought.

Song insp.: Eu Me Lembro by Clarice Falcão feat. Silva

— 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗��𝖎𝖘𝖙

“ALRIGHT,” YOUR MAID OF HONOR smiles, carefully wiping her tears with a napkin. “After making you cry and potentially ruining some makeup,” The room laughs. “I’ve prepared something different to end this on a high note.”

This is one of the dearest moments of your life: your wedding. You’re marrying your soulmate. Your heart could burst with love and happiness whenever.

Everything’s perfect, from your dress to the lights of the venue. Henry – your newly proclaimed spouse – has an arm around you as you listen to your family and friends' speeches about you and your love.

You found it strange when your Maid of Honor wasn’t the first to speak, but it seems she has a reason for it. Immediately, you feel anxious, but in a good way.

“When these two told me they were getting married, I knew I wanted to do something special for them,” Your best friend starts. “I just didn’t know what, but I knew it had to be something remarkable, something for them to look back and have a good laugh,” She looks at the both of you with tears in her eyes, chuckling.

You also wipe tears off your eyes, smiling back at her, and Henry tightens his embrace around you.

“So I sat down with these two, separately, and started to ask a few questions,” She smiles and wiggles her eyebrows, which is an expression you know very well.

‘Oh my,’ You think. ‘What is she up to?’

“Things started to get really interesting from the start, and I decided to make a video out of it,” Your best friend winks at you. “Without further ado, enjoy it.”

With a pleasant smile, she sits down. The attention turns to the screens set around the venue.

You remember sitting with your Maid of Honor to chat about your relationship. You didn’t really understand why she wanted to do that. However, it always has been effortless talking about Henry, and you brushed it off as having something to do with the wedding.

You recall having a great time answering her questions – drinks might have been involved beforehand, but the whole process was surprisingly professional.

Your friend’s face pops up on the screen as she introduces herself. “In this little video, I wanted to talk about our lovely couple’s amazing and fun story, especially the day they met,” She explains. “Newlyweds, I love you very much, and I hope you like this little something I put together for you.”

She blows a kiss and waves. Then in fancy lettering, “A love story” is scribbled on the top-left corner of the screen, and “A story of love” on the bottom right corner. You wonder why both phrases – which convey the same thing – are on the video, but the thought quickly slips your mind when your smiling face appears on the screen.

“State your name and occupation, please,” Your friend prompts on the video, but she’s out of the shot.

You roll your eyes amusedly. “What’s this, a trial? I’m innocent, your honor!” You giggle, making everybody at the venue laugh.

You answer the question anyway, and your name also appears written on the video.

“For the purpose of… this, I’m the bride?” It sounds like a question, and you make a face, unsure of yourself.

She never explained what the video was for, in your defense.

Right after you, Henry appears. “I’m Henry, and I am the lucky groom,” He smiles brightly, looking as handsome as always.

“So, tell me, how did you meet Henry?” Your friend asks, and your smile is instant as you remember that exact day as if it was yesterday. “How did you meet Y/N?” She asks him in the next scene, and his reaction is the same.

“I was hosting a brunch,” You start, your eyes unfocused as the vivid memory plays in your mind. “And it was morning when Henry arrived.”

When he reapers, you can tell it’ll cut back and forth between you. “I was throwing a party, and she was the one that came around. I think it was three in the afternoon,” Henry replies, quite differently from you.

You scoff mockingly, looking at him by your side. He chuckles, brushing it off with a shoulder tic before you turn back to the screen.

“And I said: ‘Hi, come on in, make yourself at home,’ You know, something of the sorts,” You shrug off.

Your betrothed chuckles in the video, scratching his chin in thought. “I was the one that said hello, but she didn’t hear.”

His comment makes the venue erupt in laughter. You meet Henry’s loving gaze again and squeeze his hand, making him bring yours up to press a kiss on your knuckles.

If your shared story had different and entertaining versions until now, it’d just get better!

After being asked about first impressions of one another, he replies: “She thought I was hilarious,” He says with such confidence that is endearing.

In your turn, you laugh and cover your mouth as if what you are about to say it’s an embarrassing secret.

“Oh my god, he wouldn’t stop talking! Like a lot!” You emphasize. “And I pretended to laugh the entire time,” You say very sheepishly before throwing your head back in laughter again. “That’s terrible. I feel like I need to apologize,” You add after your fit.

“Oh, I just remembered something,” He suddenly announces, and his smile is wide as the memory toy around in his head. “Her blouse was inside out,” He chuckles, eyes focused on a spot. “She’s so adorable and such a goof, isn’t she?” He looks back at the camera.

“He loved the way I was dressed,” You giggle, visibly shivering as you physically remember the feeling of him truly looking at you for the first time.

Your friend asks another question, changing the subject slightly, but Henry shakes his head.

“Yeah, the party was great! Everybody was having a good time, but I only remember searching for her when she wasn’t near me. Trying to get another look, you know?” He says.

In turn, you scoff. “No one was dancing! I don’t remember who was taking care of the music, but it was terrible!” Your genuine response makes the room fills with laughter another time. “At least everyone had a drink in hand and ate something.”

“Oh, yes. The food was wonderful. Everything homemade,” Your partner assures with a proud nod naively.

“I bought everything off Tesco,” You rushedly confess, throwing your head back in laughter again.

Back to the present moment, you’re wiping the new tears from the corners of your eyes due to laughter. You love the good energy around the room as your guests and yourself enjoy the video your Maid of Honor made.

Now you understand both phases in the beginning, and although you and Henry have very distinct versions of the day you met, you love both of them and the feelings they bring you.

However, something changes in the next second of the video. For the first time, on a split-screen, you two appear together.

“When I saw him, I knew it (When I saw her, I knew it),” You both say simultaneously. “She (He) was the person I’d spend the rest of my life with,” You continue.

Glancing at him, you’re surprised to see he’s already looking at you. Then you exchange a knowing look. It seems like you got on the same page in this part of the video.

“And that’s how I realized that life put him (her) in my life,” You say in unison. “On that Tuesday (Thursday) of September (December),” Your responses overlap with each other, drawing amused reactions from people.

“That’s why I remember everything, of every second,” Both of you state, which is downright ironic at this point. “Ask me anything that I remember.”

“I remember,” You proudly declare with a grin but, this time, by yourself.

And so does Henry. “I remember,” He nods with a beam.

The video ends there, and the room erupts in applause, whistles, and hollered praises.

Words couldn’t describe the dazzling feelings you’re experiencing if you wanted to. You can’t be more grateful to your friend for this treat either. And, of course, the man you now get to call your husband.

The spotlight of attention returns to you as you’re exchanging the most enamored gaze ever. Henry leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, making you close your eyes. Slowly, you allow all those remarkable sensations to wash over you.

When you reopen your eyes, you smile at him before looking at your Maid of Honor. “Thank you so much for this extremely thoughtful gift. We both loved it a lot.”

Henry confirms with a head gesture.

“Words won’t do justice to how much you’re special to me. I’m just so grateful I get to share such a special and meaningful moment of my life, like this one, with you,” Your voice cracks at the end, and you smile, trying to hold your tears at bay as you can see she’s doing the same. “So I can’t thank you enough.”

As the room gets loud with another round of applause and cheers, she smiles, mouthing an “I love you too” to you. Wiping your tears carefully one more time, you chuckle.

“Although, I only have one question,” You announce, making the room pipe down. “Was my blouse really inside out?” You giggle as you look back at Henry.

Your husband starts to laugh. “Yeah,” He confirms bashfully. “Yeah, it was,” He nods as your guests join you in laughter.

“Oh, God. I can’t believe it,” You shake your head in embarrassment. “I also would like to point out that my husband clearly has a lot of experience with interviews,” You remark, addressing the room. “I feel kinda bad after saying I was pretending to laugh at his jokes when he’s all loving and caring,” You rejoin your friends and family in fun.

“I do tell bad jokes,” Henry concedes in your defense. “I love how genuine you are, and you’re loving and caring to me, too,” You nearly melt at his famous Hollywood-star smile.

The sound of ‘aww’s’ fills the room. “You see what I’m dealing with?” You joke, making everybody chuckle.

You give him a chaste but affectionate peck on the lips. Your wedding coordinator decides it’s time for the first dance to open the floor to make your guests burn some energy after the buffet.

And so, feeling the most secure and happy while pressed against your husband’s chest with his arms around you, you swing slowly. By sharing the same air, the same space, and the same feelings, you can’t think of anything better.

It all started on a Tuesday morning in September for you. But for him, it was a Thursday afternoon in December. Now, it is a Saturday evening in November that you’ll never forget.

You will remember. Everything. Of every second.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x you #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill headcanon #the witcher #geralt of rivia #august walker #clark kent #superman #sherlock holmes

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ne-nene-ne · 1 year

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♡ How to gain the dragon's affection ♡

-> things you can do to make this handsome fae weak in the knees

malleus x reader (fluff!)

Wear or carry the things he's gifted you!

Whether it's a necklace, bracelet, or even a mini gargoyle statue, have it on you! Malleus will beam with pride when he sees it on your person. I feel like he's a bit of a possessive person, so he'd love seeing you dressed in the things that he, himself has chosen and gifted you.

Indulge him in his passion for exploring ruins and his love for gargoyles!

If you show even the tiniest bit of interest in gargoyles or ruin exploring, you will see Malleus' eyes light up immediately and he will begin talking about it for hours. Please allow him to do so. Not many share his passion or are interested in these types of things (if at all), please listen to him ramble on. Heck, join the Gargoyle Studies Club! Give this dude some company because he's pretty much the only member there. 😭 And look, he's aware that not everyone is interested in the same things he is, but if you at least put in the effort to listen and try to understand, he'd be a happy fae

Include him in your activities!

We already know how much of a complex he has towards being invited/uninvited, so if you constantly make it a point to include him in whatever you're doing, he will feel loved. I don't think he'd be picky about what kind of activity you'd be doing. He'd be open-minded to whatever it is. In fact, he'd try to find possible ways to make it easier on you if it's a difficult task. If it's an artsy/creative activity, like painting, there's a chance he'll either be pretty good at it at first try, or he'll end up making a bit of a mess. I also don't think he'd mind much of this either, even if he did end up looking silly. He would laugh it off heartily and probably be like, "How interesting...!" He's curious about your ways and is very much willing to learn. His adoration for you will just increase if you try to teach him

Help him raise his tamagotchi!

He absolutely loves his Roaring Drago and so if you offer to help him "raise" it or offer to watch over it whenever he's busy, he'll fall more in love with you. Not only will he feel closer to you as you both nurture the little creature, he might even begin to see a future with you and your own little ones (if you ever had that in mind) and oh, how he knows how much he'd love that life dearly if it was spent with you.

Share that full-sized cake with him!

This one is oddly specific but as seen in his profile, Malleus dislikes full-sized cakes because he tried eating one entirely by himself 😅 (ofc he wouldn't feel great afterwards). You might be met with a resistant attitude or sour face from him (out of instinct) when you bring out that whole cake, but show him that it isn't as bad as he thinks when he shares it with someone. Maybe he'll like it! And if he doesn't, well then you guys can smear the leftovers on each other's faces and have a bit of fun!

This poor boy has just been left out on a lot. Make him feel welcomed, wanted, and loved and he will adore you forever 🥺❤️

a/n: not really proofread tbh but it was a fun one! I might just turn this into a series and do the same for other twst charas. I'm thinking of Azul or Leona next, hmm

And OKAY so I originally posted this on @lyneira (my brand new writing blog) but my posts on there aren't showing up in the tags yet so I guess I'll still be posting some of my writing here until tumblr allows them to be seen 😭 somebody pls interact with my new blog so that tumblr doesn't think I'm a bot 😔

#twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #nene writes~♡

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hrts4scarr · 13 days

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ᯓ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ⑅ walk him like a dog 2 ✯ jb22 .ᐟ.ᐟ

★ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃﹕﹙ yes/no ﹚ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘﹕﹙in which sebastian vettels sister gets her dream job to work along with him, but stumbles across an infamous playboy﹚ — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒﹕﹙purpose use of lowercase letters only, not sure if there's gonna be another part, use of y/n, black-cat!reader, golden-retriever-ish!jenson, past-playboy!jenson, lowkey-past-toxic!jenson, VERYY light angst [i think], probably not well proofread, lmk if there's anything i missed!!﹚ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆﹕﹙jenson button 22 x f!vettel!reader﹚ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓﹕﹙icba checking but it's not much at all imooo fjdkjfdsjfkla﹚ ★ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎﹕﹙part two who cheered !?﹚

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰previous // last work // pinned post // masterlist // taglist // rules // next ꒱

JENSON COULDN'T HELP BUT look at the red bull racer's sister eating her lunch with some of her co-workers. she fit right in and right away, even only after a week. she was smiling. oh, her smile. it was different than how she smiled with her brother. how jenson would do anything to make her smile that genuine smile she had with her brother.

"staring at my sister, huh?"

jenson whipped his head around to see sebastian vettel. he opens his mouth then closes it as he sees the fellow driver's raised eyebrows.

sebastian's cold face cracks into a grin. he throws his head back and laughs. "you should have seen the look on your face!"

jenson grumbles under his breath.

"alright, all jokes aside, please don't play with my sisters heart." sebastian puts a hand on jenson's shoulder.

"why would i ever-" jenson starts as he looks at him, but seb raises his eyebrows.

jenson purses his lips. "i.. alright, maybe you're right and i'm sorry."

seb sighs softly. "i'm just looking out for my sister, alright? i love her very much, with all my heart. i don't want to see it broken. i don't want to see *her* broken. just please, promise me."

"i promise." jenson nods sternly.

〜

days after days, you and jenson had formed a friendly and healthy relationship, in which you both hoped would never be ruined. every time you laughed or smiled, you didn't know the thoughts lingering behind the eyes that shined when you did so. you've opened up more and more, finally showing the fun side of you.

jenson hoped to keep it that way. he hoped that your friendship would never be ruined. he'd never felt this way before, and he didn't know whether you felt the same way or not. being the infamous playboy he was, of course he didn't want to break your heart like he did to the other girls. he made a promise to your brother, a promise he could and would never break. you were too dear to him, too precious. he didn't want to break you. he vowed to, with all his life and heart, and he would never admit that to anyone or to himself.

so from then on, he kept it a secret. a secret he couldn't bear. and little did he know, that you on the other hand, was starting to catch feelings too. and you would never admit that to yourself either.

you both had fallen too hard to ever want to break your relationship. your personalities might be polar opposites, but the way you both want to keep your loved ones close and protected was a trait you shared.

jenson, the infamous playboy he was known as, obviously had toyed with a 'few' girls hearts. he's not one to think before he acts. he's the outgoing, social golden retriever.

you were oftenly known is the black cat, and the studiouss quiet kid. you were known by everyone, but not exactly popular. you plan out your movements carefully, always one step ahead. perfect match, honestly.

but further more, jenson made you feel special. you wanted to deny that feeling that made you think, 'he probably gives this treatment to every girl.' but oh, how you were wrong.

he would never offer to carry an item that weighed less than a pound for the 'other' girls. ("here, let me help you with that." "jenson, i can carry it, it's fine!! it's literally just a-" "no, please just let me help." and of course you had to give in to those helpless eyes. that effect he had on you made you weak in the knees.) he would never buy the 'other' girls special and thoughtful gifts. ("please, darling, this is my treat." "but jens-" "i said it once and ill say it again. my. treat.") he would never follow those 'other' girls around like he did to you, like a dog on a leash. ("walk him like a dog." seb snorted. "shut up!!" you muttered, feeling your cheeks get slightly red. jenson rolled his eyes, continuing to follow you neverless.)

it was never those 'other' girls, who he never even talked to anymore ever since he had met you. it's always been you. and from then, it would never change.

★ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎﹕﹙i MIGHTTT take some blurb and part requests for this series, so ill lyk if i do!!﹚ ౨ৎ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓﹕﹙@gray4youuu @c-losur3 @ujws5 @namgification @faithshouseofchaos @isurvived3-11andimproud @somebodyonce-toldme @44lewico﹚

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰previous // last work // pinned post // masterlist // taglist // rules // next ꒱

notes, comments, reblogs, feedback and follows are greatly appriciated!

!! PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ON OTHER WEBISTES/APPS OR COPY MY ORIGINAL WORK !!

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heartfullofleeches · 6 months

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Oh god V x loser darling would be a ship made in hell two deranged idiots together causing untold destruction

As mentioned in this post, V and Loser Reader seem to absolutely fucking despise each other on the surface, but while Reader might actually hate him - V is crushing hard and his feelings show when they attempt to leave his presence or talk to someone else. I imagine they met somewhere online- their first encounter being some dumb comment war beef between them or screaming match in a game lobby and when Reader roasts his ass, not realizing he's a serial doxxer and will release someone's address just for saying his favorite anime is mid, V gathers their information and starts to stalk them planning on ruining their life - but once he finally sees a picture of them his stupid ass immediately starts crushing on them and uses the information he's gained to scare them into dating him

V: Your argument falls through as you clearly have the vocabulary of a middle schooler. Even a literal child would be better at getting their point across that you. Can you even form one coherent sentence, you fucking parasite-

Loser Reader: Kys. Freak.

V: I'm going to dox you and your entire family. We'll see how brave you are when your address is posted for everyone to find

Loser Reader: Here's something to help you out, bitch. [Sends him a private message of themself giving him the middle finger]

[V quietly removes their username from the folder titled "hitlist" and saves the picture they sent him - adding it to different folder titled "Homework"] (spoilers: it ain't homework in that folder)

Loser Reader: I'm heading out!

V: Who the fuck said you could leave without me?

Loser Reader: Kiss my ass, Vince.

V: I mean I'll do it, but you're still not leaving this house.

Loser Reader: Vince, can I use your credit card?

V: With the way you treat me? Fuck no.

[Loser Reader pulls out a pair of cat ears and puts them on]

Loser Reader: Vincey....

V: No, Y/n.

Loser Reader: but your kitty needs it. 👉👈 You don't want to have a sad kitty do you? Sad kitties don't buy maid dresses and cute lingerie with your money to make themselves cute, and submissive and breedable for you-

[V sighs and hands them his wallet]

Loser Reader, tossing the cat ears into the trash: Thanks, Virgin. Would've offered to suck you off if you held out a bit longer, but oh well~

V: ....I will report all of my cards as stolen if you aren't on your knees by the time I count to three

#V my oc #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #male yandere #yandere #loser reader

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xfancyuu · 1 year

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~ now i draw a luxury nxde. [aemond targaryen] 18+ SMUT

because it's the beginning of spring i wanted to post for that so in universe it is also warm and flowers are blooming! reader is afab with she/her pronouns & my requests are open! this could be read as though it's in the same universe as my other bolton!reader works, though she's married to aemond and is referred to as lady targaryen. there are no appearance indicators in this fic, this is kinda canon divergence. also i didn't bold the dialogue for this one and i actually think i'm gonna go and reformat my other fics to match! this fic is also known as frolicking and fucking so yeah that's what you're in for. smut will be indicated with a different coloured line break if you do not wish to read it. [1,757 words]

this fic contains: wall sex, public sex, dressed sex, choking, spitting, voyeurism, name-calling, corruption kink, attempted dirty talk? y'all are just newly married and experimenting tbh, y'all degrade each other, slight orgasm denial, cumming inside. if i missed any please lmk!

You had never imagined life as a married woman to be so blissful. You had heard from the ladies in court that they simply did their marital duty and did not enjoy spending time with their husbands. They had told you that the bliss would wear off within the year once you had children, and they would steal your beauty.

You had all but rolled your eyes at their commentary. They were rude and bitter, seeking your own mood to be as equally unhappy as their own. They nitpicked at everything you did, from reading too much to what you ate and how you conducted yourself. Loneliness truly was more appealing than spending ceaseless amounts of time with women who were your mother's age and almost as bitter. Being surrounded with unmarried women was improper, they had told you — not that you paid them mind, as your ladies in waiting were all unmarried and far better company.

You found yourself in the gardens with your ladies-in-waiting more often than not, the weather was pleasant, and you'd much rather be outside than wallow inside without much joy. Flowers had brought you much more joy than you had anticipated, they livened your mood from the dreaded time spent with the married ladies in court. They wouldn't be seen outside without reason, whereas you did not care much for the opinions and thoughts of others in court, despite being a Princess.

The book within your lap had become much more interesting than whatever your ladies were gossiping about, you hadn't cared much for the people they were talking about, but the adventure of Lady Sunderland and her times in the Reach were too addictive to put down. Your ladies' had tried to gain your attention one too many times, but you were too engrossed in the book to care for the outside world.

The book was abruptly taken from your hands, making you both lose the page you were ready and had caused your brain to be hazy. You were both mad and irritated by the actions of someone clearly trying to ruin your day. "Do you mind?" You had asked, not expecting to see your husband as you looked up.

"Is it a crime for me to want to spend time with my wife?" Aemond had asked you, extending his hand as if expecting you to take it despite disturbing your peace.

"It's a crime when you snatch my book off of me and expect me to be happy about it." You retorted, deciding it was probably better to go along with him, and took his help to get off the grass. "Lucky for you, I like you enough not to lock you up."

"Oh how merciful." Aemond responded, not removing your hand from his grasp, "the flowers are blooming, you should be looking at the world instead of living in your books."

"I'll have you know I can do both equally," You retorted, leading Aemond away from the prying eyes and sharp ears of your ladies, "Now you're here you might as well keep me company if you won't let me read, perhaps a walk around the garden would do us both some good."

"I have a better idea than touring the gardens," Aemond had pulled you into a secluded pathway leading away from the hustle and bustle of everybody else.

"Your ideas always end up with us in trouble." You weren't entirely wrong, the disapproving look of Queen Alicent would be forever engrained in your brain.

"They may be troublesome, but you always have fun." You couldn't disagree, instead you simply followed Aemond to whichever location he wanted to show you.

Aemond had abruptly left you in the morning, leaving you needy and begging for him to finish the job he'd started yet he had left you without a thought for your own well-being. You could somewhat blame your crankiness and willingness to do such a deviant act in public with the possibility of anybody seeing and reporting such acts to the Queen.

The thought that you shouldn't be doing this had crossed your mind — the words would not leave your mouth though, you had wanted to do this, neediness had seeped in, with your skirts and underclothes raised above your waist, your modesty was damned and so were you.

The carnal need and desire you felt within yourself had put all your thoughts out the window, if you were in your usual mind frame you would have told Aemond no, that it was improper but words would not form in your throat. Instead, you kissed him back with almost as much longing.

The insatiability you had felt was consuming you, yet it felt more so annoying, Aemond hadn't truly done anything to you to make you feel this way, little touches and long stares did not warrant you feeling so flustered by the man so much you'd let him take you any which way he wanted.

You were expecting the current position you were in — being in public had never been a boundary you crossed with each other, yet he had so little patience when it had come to you, not even checking if the garden was secluded enough not to have prying eyes follow you, "Who knew my lady wife could be such a whore?" Aemond had whispered in your ear, though you could not form words of your own, "Wanting me to take her right now with not a care in the world who witnesses it."

"I think you can only get your cock up with the thought of an audience, you leave me so frustrated when we're alone in our chamber."

"You may come to regret that, wife." Aemond had always had to get the last word, "Your tongue may be sharp, but I will fuck you until you can't form another sentence." He'd begun unlacing his trousers, and you truly knew you were in for it — whatever it entailed, you weren't sure.

"You keep saying what you're going to do, but you haven't even stuck it in yet, tell me husband, are you struggling? Do you need me to help you stick it in? Can you not find the hole?" You couldn't finish your light-hearted taunting Aemond had entered you with little care, it was sloppy and lustful as though he felt as much need as you did.

You couldn't stay quiet, not with how intoxicating Aemond had felt inside, thrusting himself as far as he could inside of you, the slow pace was comfortable but irritating, you wanted it fast and hard, you wanted Aemond to show you the side of himself he hid away, the side which would make you blush if you so much as thought about it.

You were so used to being in control, Aemond had ensured you always felt comfortable and could stop at any moment but seeing him so dominant had made you tingle, then gasp as you felt a hand around your throat. "You've got to be quiet, you don't want the world to hear you, do you? Don't want the world to hear what a whore you become for cock."

The sight of your ladies seeing you in such a position had the opposite effect than what you thought it would, the idea of corrupting them as much as you had been corrupted had you clenching around Aemond's cock.

"Not so fast, princess," Aemond spoke, his pace slowing and causing the momentum and build-up to your own orgasm to be depleted. "Good girls get to cum, you've not been a good girl, have you?"

You couldn't respond, the hand wrapped around your throat had become tighter, "Going to cum inside you, princess, have you got a problem with that?" You had tried to shake your head, but with the grip Aemond had on your throat, your head hadn't moved an inch.

Aemond had increased his speed, and you knew he was close to his own peak despite ruining your own, the pettiness within you had decided if you didn't get your release neither was Aemond. As if sensing your plans, Aemond thrust into you harder, keeping you in place as though you were a doll he could do what he pleased. "You're going to take my seed, and you're going to thank me for it."

Your orgasm was too sudden for you to realise what was happening, from the words Aemond spoke to the way he was fucking you, it was far too much to process and your body reacted entirely by itself. You knew disobeying Aemond would have consequences but in the depth of your own pleasure and Aemond continuing to fuck you, you didn't care. You'd take any punishment to feel a moment of the pleasure you were currently feeling.

"Naughty girl." Aemond whispered in your ear as you came down from your high, "I thought you'd finally be a good girl, though I suppose I set my standards too high for you. Open your mouth."

You did as he commanded, not wanting to make him more upset with you. However, you weren't prepared for him to spit in your mouth — or to like it as much as you did. "You belong to me and you do as I say."

It hadn't taken long for Aemond to spill his seed within you, his grip on your throat loosening and his teeth biting into your skin. It wasn't often you had allowed him to cum inside you — the prospect of what would follow being in the forefront of your mind. "I'm yours." You reassured Aemond as he came down from his climax.

"Are you okay there?" You had asked, not used to such an intense reaction from Aemond, "I really enjoyed myself." You reassured him, you were so close and the euphoria of the situation had you cradling Aemond within your arms.

"It was just a bit... much, I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked, pulling out of you. At that moment, you knew you'd need to bathe. The feeling of his seed coming out of you had you almost recoiling.

"Trust me, you'd know if you were hurting me." You didn't want to approach the subject of being witnessed in such an act. "Your mother may be expecting more grandchildren soon."

"Moontea exists, my dear." You hadn't been married a year yet, it wasn't entirely suspicious that you had not shown signs of being pregnant. "And for what it's worth, I enjoy our time just being the two of us."

as always, thank you for reading this! i really appreciate it. i really enjoy writing for aemond so if y'all have any requests send them my way. my next hotd fic will be for helaena so if that interests you just message me! crossposted on ao3 under the name hedonism!

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf imagine #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x y/n #i just had fun writing this if you couldnt tell #basically i watched the tudors and yeah #i think this is the filthiest thing i've wrote

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felikatze · 3 months

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THE ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY: THE CRACK HEADCANON THAT RUINED ME FOREVER

HI. you might know me as the kingphie divorce guy. or as the guy who wrote the 6k ludonarrative essay. Today i am going to introduce to YOU @the-bitter-ocean's fantabulous ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY!!!

DISCLAIMER

This post contains SPOILERS for ALL of In Stars and Time. INCLUDING THE ACT 6 SECRET!!

You have been warned.

ALSO!!!!

The original headcanon/theory is VERY MUCH Ocean's fantastic work! I am merely rehashing all the arguments for it that have been laid out across various chats into one cohesive thing people can look at. Also citations! Who doesn't love those.

WHAT IS IT?

Well, it's quite simple. It's the theory that Euphrasie, love of my life and Head Housemaiden of Dormont, is from the forgotten island, same as Siffrin and the King.

(Yes, this is why divorce AU exists.)

WHY DO YOU EVEN BELIEVE THIS?

Quite a lot of reasons, actually.

It's really funny

Let us begin with: the basics.

SUPERFLOUS AESTHETIC DETAIL

HAIR COLOR

This is Euphrasie. She's very pretty. I love her.

You might notice several things about her, like her fantabulous white hair.

Well. What other characters have white hair?

You have guessed correctly. The ONLY OTHER white haired characters with actual artwork are Siffrin and the King, both from The Island The World Forgot. Thus we can assume that it's a typical hair color for islanders. Makes it stand out very much that Euphie also has it.

(What about the beautiful one- sh sh sh he's blonde. He's blonde.) (Well, actually, considering that they are the only one who acknowledges that Vaugardians are also weird, what if he's from the island as well? Checkmate atheists.)

EYELASHES

Correct. Eyelashes.

Going back to our portrait of Euphie, she is drawn with precisely three eyelashes. Why is this notable? Because Siffrin and Loop are.

So much so, that being drawn with three eyelashes, is specifically an element of foreshadowing to Loop's true identity.

(squints at character portraits) literally no characters besides Siffrin, Loop, and Euphrasie have eyelashes? Oh my god. What? Nobody has eyelashes? What the fuck? (okay, some moments later: Mirabelle has eyelashes in some battle artwork, but these three are the only ones specifically with eyelashes in dialogue portraits, which is still incredibly odd.)

SPEAKING HABITS

Hey, so, you know when you talk to people in Dormont, a lot of the NPCS will have a nametag that just says "[something] One" right? Daydreaming One, Castle-Loving One, Beautiful One?

And I've seen people wonder, are these titles? Nicknames?

And I bring you this: Siffrin addresses these people with these epithets in his head, because they have no fucking clue what anyone's name is.

So Siffrin just naturally lapses into this style of nicknaming strangers.

Which two other people also do.

Bright one... ...... Do you remember? Traveling one! Are you done talking with your companions? Yes, wonderful, wonderful!

Funny little tidbit that these three characters all speak alike isn't it :)

Okay. With aesthetics out of the way, let's move onto the next tier of this iceberg:

THE MECHANICS OF FORGETTING AND BEING FORGOTTEN

I realize in the process of writing that we must outline the nature of the curse. What gets forgotten and what gets to stay?

The particularity that's important to us right now is: what people get forgotten?

All evidence points toward this: an entire person is only forgotten if they were physically present on the island when it vanished.

I'm pulling up two example cases to prove it: Siffrin and the Daydreaming One.

The thing with Siffrin is: we know he witnessed the exact moment the island vanished. And, very notably, Siffrin was in a boat.

You can get the dialogue that proves this only in ACT 2 in a secret room most people don't find on their first playthroughs, which is both very funny and very evil. Here's the dialogue.

Siffrin: "I ran away from home once!" [...] Siffrin: "And so I took our boat! Got to the beach, rowed away from the shore a bit. I was going to come back right away, I just wanted to scare my parents a bit!" [...]

Siffrin: "I started to row back towards the shore... And then, I... I... ..." Isabeau: ... Sif? Siffrin: (Woah! What?) "Um, yes?" Isabeau: Um... You were telling us how you ran away from home? Siffrin: "I... was?" Odile: You... Were. Bonnie: DID YOU FORGET WHAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT WHILE TALKING ABOUT IT?!?

Siffrin is from the island, but was not physically present when it disappeared. This resulted in Siffrin forgetting their entire identity, including given name and spoken/written language.

Additionally, this is confirmed via Word of God to be the exact moment the island disappeared, so here's proof I'm not reading into it:

Shoutout to bibliomaniac's insane google spreadsheet for the easily searchable screenshot. god bless. Brinny, ily.

On the other hand, with the Daydreaming One, we have proof of a person who is not originally from the island, but was physically on it at the time of disappearance.

Siffrin: "Don't you have a sister?" Daydreaming One: I... I don't? I just said I'm an only child, silly!

(For her to forget someone like her sister, so easily... Her sister must've traveled to...)

Secondly, we know that remnants of the island were not completely forgotten immediately.

Memory faded gradually, starting with the ability to still speak and think about it with accompanying headaches, until it ramped up in intensity and everything is simply gone.

The Sparkling Diary in the library is more or less proof. Memory of the island was gone, but... people still remembered that they forgot something. People still knew what they were talking about, (an island north of Vaugarde), just without the specifics.

"Urgh. Also, Dad noticed no one can say the name of the island north of here anymore?" "I tried to say it yesterday and I got like the WEIRDEST headache for HOURS."

And Odile also remarks the following

Odile: We also know that people could remember that country clearly, before.

This will be relevant later. Moving on.

CONTRIVANCES

THE HOUSE'S OBSERVATORY

SO. The House of Change of Dormont has this funny little room on the third floor. It's an observatory. To look at stars with. When entering this room for the first time, Mirabelle says this:

Mirabelle: What...? Was there a room like this in the House? Y-yeah, I remember! Someone was working here... Studying... They looked like... ... Um... Sorry, I can't remember.

This reveals to us several things:

This room is innate to the House, and not brought here by the King's weird redecorating

Someone from the House was using it for study

All memory of who or what was studying and being studied was erased alongside the island's existence

Of course we can say, "yo, what if Euphrasie was using this room and just forgot?" but that is. a headcanon. I ADMIT! It is a stipulation

However, I find the general presence of the Island written all over the House incredibly interesting.

Inside the Observatory, there's a pile of papers with messy handwriting. You can't read these in until ACT 4. Even in ACT 4, you can't read them. But you do learn what's written on them.

(A pile of papers.) (It looks like someone was trying to write your country's name.)

Inside the observatory is also a globe. Upon repeated interaction in... act 4, i think, you get this:

(You see a spot on the globe where the paint has started wearing out, like someone kept dragging their finger on it.) (You drag your finger there too.) (Erased. You almost want to look for lightless paint.)

BOOKS

During the various quests to discover the truth of the loops, you run into a lot of books, written in the forgotten language. Now, Dormont is not close to the island. Dormont is not close to the coast.

Bambouche is. That's why Bonnie has heard about the island before and knows it was a big deal - they lived really close to it.

Bonnie (and then1): I think, I think my village was really close to it!!! My sister said it was all everyone could talk about for weeks!!! Mirabelle (anxious1): That's so frightening... I'm glad that whatever happened, she didn't get caught up in it!

As we can see in this map, Dormont is in the southern half of the country, and very centrally at that, meaning it has basically maximum distance from all waters and ports. So why does this landlocked small town have so many books in this language?

These aren't just dry books, either. In Dormont's library, there's actually a translated version of volume 2 of The Cursing of Chateau Castle.

(You take the book out again.) (You can read its title, now...) (Your heart is beating, badump, badump, badump.) (It's...) (... A translated copy of "The Cursing of Château Castle", issue #2.) (You start laughing.)

CONCLUSION OF THIS SECTION

Islanders lived in Dormont. Maybe even multiple! We've established that whoever is in Dormont when it vanished would not simply disapper, instead

they forgot where they're from.

One day, the islanders in Dormont could no longer remember being anywhere but Dormont. Being anything but Vaugardian. The observatory fell into disuse, as the person studying there gradually forgot what they used it for, even as they desparately tried to hold onto it, boring holes into the globe, and scribbling its name over and over until its unintelligible.

And, in all likelihood, eventually that knowledge was just gone forever. They simply became part of Dormont, none the wiser to their own history.

Books slipped into cracks. Rooms fell into disuse. Nobody remembered to clean out the remnants.

Now. The real cinch of this.

Why, in particular, do I think Euphrasie is one of them?

Answer me this, then.

How does Euphie know what Wish Craft is?

1. How could she read it?

Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft exists, when all books on it are written in a language nobody can read.

The book in the storage room? The diary in the room behind the star door? The book in the secret library? None of them are legible.

There are no legible records of Wish Craft.

2. What about the Favor Tree?

Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft is related to the Favor Tree. It's also a Vaugardian practice to make requests of the Favor Tree, but they're just that - requests. Nobody thinks they actually have power.

Only Euphrasie does. She thinks it's the key to defeating the King.

(This is... A list of people who wished to save Vaugarde!!!) (You look around her desk, trying to find out more.) (Why would she record the people who wished to save Vaugarde?) (... There!!!) (It's a little notebook, jammed between random boring paperwork...) (In it, the Head Housemaiden talks about Wish Craft... How in the days before the King attacked, she noticed everyone was wishing to the Favor Tree for the same thing:) (To save Vaugarde.) (And she started wondering if this wish could be the key to the King's defeat, somehow...) (So the Head Housemaiden knew about Wish Craft!!!)

Except, when Isabeau talks about it...

Isabeau: Well, it's just a random big tree. But when you're a believer of the House of Change, the biggest tree in a certain place is called a Favor Tree! It's like, it’s the tree with the most power, so you can ask it things? As a favor?

He struggles a little to explain it. Almost, as though the tradition came from some other culture, imported into Vaugarde, and no one can definetely remember where it came from.

To note, here, is that the Favor Tree is hugely associated with Loop, and wishes in general. Wishing on a Favor Tree is such a hugely powerful ritual when executed correctly, that it caused the entire timeloops.

And I'm not even gonna break out citations to prove that Wish Craft is associated with the island. Come on. You know that. You played the game. It's required to beat the game.

If you haven't beaten the game, what the fuck are you doing here. Go back and play it, baka.

3. Something's breaking, failing, rotting

At the end of ACT 4, when Siffrin confronts Euphrasie about her knowledge of Wish Craft, Euphrasie is distinctly aware of this: the people of Vaugarde are wishing wrong.

It's true. All of Vaugarde wished to the Favor Tree, wished for us to be saved. We wished for a savior. A way for us to win against the King. And Wish Craft gave us the means to do it, didn't it? Made sure it'd work? [...] But... But something went wrong, didn't it? Something goes wrong, every time!!! [...] The only answer I can find... Is it's because we did it wrong. I don't know what happened But we must've done it wrong!!! None of us in Vaugarde knew the exact ritual, but-- But we must have done it so wrong, it broke, and it doesn't answer to us at all anymore!!! [...] I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!!!

There's only one person who knew how to make a Wish correctly. And he made it by sheer instinct. Something they could not place even if they tried. Just... a forgotten ritual, dredged back up by muscle memory. Something he's probably been doing since he's a little kid, something that's so backed into their habits they use Wish Craft to carve figurines out of wood.

To end, I leave you with this. Dialogue you get when you try to talk to Euphrasie again, before you talked to everybody else.

If you talk to me... REALLY talk to me... It's all over. What "it" is, I have no idea... I know... I can feel that... I couldn't change whatever comes next, even if I wanted to. But I know it is the will of the Change God. Or, no, perhaps... The will of something even bigger... ... Something will end, once you talk to me.

There is a way for Euphrasie to know all of this. To know Wish Craft exists, to be aware she's doing it wrong, but not knowing, remembering quite enough to get it right.

If she knew it all beforehand already.

#Feli speaks #in stars and time #isat spoilers #isat #euphrasie isat #head housemaiden #ALL THE TAGS. I NEED PEOPLE TO LOOK AT THIS. PLEASE. IT'S 1:30 IN THE MORNING.#i spent two hours on this i think

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cyberkinks · 5 months

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𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐄 ︙ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐔 {KINKMAS}・♡

⤷︎︎ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬, wom!reader, fiancé!mingyu. surprises, him being the kind man he is, him meeting your family and friends, you two being lovebirds throughout this, kissing, sexual interactions, multiple sex scenes, your mom scolding you. ✨

⤷︎︎ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, use of foul language, use of pet names (maybe), misspellings (maybe. english isn’t my first language). 🎄

⤷︎︎ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞, smut, fluff, CEO au. ⛄️

⤷︎︎ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲, christmas. a wonderful time of the year that you share with your precious family and in this case, your fiancé. you honestly felt as if mingyu forgot about the week you two were supposed to visit your family in LA but little did you know. ❄️

⤷︎︎ 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫!, this is for entertainment purposes only! 🌨️

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ❛Hello, loves. I know it's been a while but I'm back with a longer imagine this time. hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it for all of you. I still have more things in the works so look out for it! love you all, merry chrismas (if u celebrate), and happy new year! muwah! (I'll try to post for new years as well!) ♡ ❜ ☃️

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝: no, unedited.

It was kinda expected and you were torn apart but you kept a smile on your face around your family since you didn’t want them to know.

mingyu promised to come with you to LA to visit your parents since he’s never met them and as always, his schedule said otherwise and he was 'disappointed' also. you had left days before chrismas since it was gonna be a long flight plus you needed to help out your mom.

you looked around as your family mingled and talked amongst each other but you kept your life private which means it would’ve been an even bigger surprise since they didn’t even know you’d thought about dating. you were the most career focused person they knew.

you sat there trying to maintain a happy face but it eventually failed and your face turned sad at the thought of Mmngyu not being able to come.

your mom noticed and came over and sat down by you. “everything alright?” she asked with a look of concern and you nodded immediately, covering up your true feelings. “yeah, I’m fine.” you reassured her and flashed her a small smile.

she looks at you and chuckles. “y/n, I can tell when you’re not fine.” caught. she caught you in your “I’m okay” act and you sigh deeply. “it’s just….someone was supposed to come but…” you didn’t know how to finish off your sentence without ruining the surprise. “the person couldn’t make it.” you look down at your coffee mug before taking a sip.

“and why not?” she asks “they’re just…busy busy.” you replied trying your best not to spoil anything. “I see and this person is making you this upset? must be important.” you raise an eyebrow at her words, wondering if she knew already.

she winks at you before walking off and you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts and have a good time but it was hard with mingyu being on your mind so you pick up your phone from the table and sent him a quick “I miss you” message then sat your phone face down back on the table.

soon, the doorbell rings throughout the house and you look over and see your mom going to answer it. you think nothing of who it might be until you hear that familiar voice and you stand up and walk into the living room from the dining room only to see mingyu standing there with his bags in his hands. “Sorry I’m late.” he says softly before kissing your forehead as you stand there in shock “the traffic was terrible” he continued. “I thought you said you were handing things today.” I ask him with a confusing frown.

he smiles down at you. “I wanted to surprise you, love. I took a few days off.” a smile appears on your face and you lean in and kissed his lips softly. “this is one hell of a surprise.” you say with a smile before looking back and seeing most of your family standing there. “oh sorry, uh mingyu this is my mom, (F/N). mom, this is my fiancé, mingyu” you stand aside watching as they greet each other.

soon after, you introduce him to your dad, (F/N) then the rest of your family as you hold onto his arm.

After introducing him, you two sat down on the sofa looking around. you look over at him. “I honestly thought you forgot.” you spoke softly and he chuckled softly at your words. “I know but I would never, i know how important this was for you.” said mingyu with a soft smile across his lips and you smiled back before pecking his lips “well, I’m glad.” you grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and he kisses your temple.

you couldn’t have been more happier in this moment. surrounded by your fiancé, friends, and family. being together with him on your favorite holiday was all you needed for christmas.

・・・ 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑, it was now 11 PM and everyone went to bed early and it was just you and mingyu awake in the guest bedroom.

you were relaxed and laid back against the headboard, watching TV in your nightgown, rubbing your legs against the silk sheets trying to get comfortable as you waited for mingyu to finish up showering.

you couldn’t sleep without him being next to you. you were slightly clingy.

when you hear the water turning off, a smile forms on your lips but what happens next is something you didn’t expect. you looked up and saw him with a towel around his waist as water dripped down from his body and his hair, running down his abs and his neck.

you closed your legs at the sight before looking away not being able to handle the view and a light laugh came from his lips. “can’t handle what you see?” he says in a low whisper and you chuckle before looking back over at him. “of course I can, I just…it’s different.” you clear your throat before facing the tv again, trying to get your mind off what your eyes just saw.

“different? how so, love?” mingy says in a seductive tone before drying the water from his body and you take a deep breath. “I’m not sure what I meant by that either.” you say pulling the covers down a little, trying to show him what you were wearing and he raises an eyebrow. “now? In your parent's house?” he says as he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. “such a bad girl, aren’t you?” he moves closer, positioning himself between your legs.

you bite your lips at his words before nodding as your hands rest on his shoulders now, feeling his cock resting against your thigh as he leans in closer, moving his head down to your neck and placing soft kisses and leaving love marks behind. “wanting me to fuck you right now..” he whispers against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

your body was heating up at this point. your underwear were now soaked in your own juices. his hands grabs onto your hips, pulling you closer towards his own body.

“please, mingyu.” you breathe out, rubbing on his shoulders and biting down on your bottom lip after.

“please what, sweetheart?” his lips trails down to your collarbone, kissing on it softly while his hands slide up your gown tugging at the hem of your underwear.

you felt as if you were slowly losing control at the way he was teasing you. his thumbs trace circles on your hips, trying to contain himself since there were other people here.

“Mmmph, i need you.” a soft whine escapes your lips. a soft smirk appeared across his lips. “do you now?” he said in a low and husky manner before moving back and slowly pulling your underwear off. he smiled at how wet you already were for him and threw your underwear on the floor.

with his two fingers, he spreads your wetness around your clit then carefully dips his fingers inside of you making a sharp gasp leave your lips.

mingyu slowly thrusts them into you, prepping you for him as he bites down on his bottom lip. he loved listening to the sounds you made and knowing it was him that could only make you feel this way excited him more. he watch as you squirm underneath him “b-babe.” you moan softly, wanting to squeeze your thighs together but he stops you before leaning down between your legs and wraps his lips around your clit sucking on it gently and you quickly cover your mouth to prevent yourself from waking everyone up.

you look down watching as he pleasures you. he grabs ahold of your thighs, pulling you closer. he begins to devour you as if it were his last meal.

he moans softly against your folds, diving deeper as he continues to hold you in place. his tongue laps at your clit over and over again. he loved the way you taste on his tongue. you tried your best to suppress your moans, trying your best to keep quiet but he was visibly making that hard.

your thighs begin to shake while your hole starts to pulse. you felt your orgasm approaching just by him using his tongue. you were almost there but he quickly moved his mouth from your folds.

his chin and lips were covered in your juices. he licked it all off his lips before leaning down to kiss yours softly, letting you taste yourself as he lines himself up with your aching hole. “ready, my love?” he whispers against your lips and you nod quickly, your eyes were full of lust along with his.

he carefully slid himself inside of you, grunting instantly at how wet you were meanwhile you covered your mouth once again, trying your best not to moan loudly as he stretched you out.

“Oh god..” You gasp, gripping his shoulders for dear life. “I could cum like this..” he groans pushing his cock further into you, filling you up to the brim.

his forehead rests against yours as he slowly thrusts into you, letting you get used to his size while waiting for your cue.

after a few more slow thrusts, you nod for him to speed up his pace and he does at that moment. he grabs your legs, pinning them down on both sides of your torso.

your head went back, moaning softly into the air as you grabbed onto his shoulders tightly. “m-mingyu!” a whimper left your lips.

“you’re so fucking tight, sweetheart.” he moans, leaning in closer. the bed creaks at how fast he is going as the headboard thuds against the wall.

you knew by now that your parents knew what was going on since the guest room was next to theirs and you cursed inside your head knowing your mom was going to scold you about it today. you began to scratch at his back, moaning a little louder and he shushed you with his lips, grunting into the kiss as his pace quickened.

"you're so fucking deep!" you mewl, looking down and watching as he pumps into you with sharp and quick thrusts.

his hands grab onto your hips tighter. "(Y/N).." he grunts, throwing his head back this time. you could feel your orgasm building up and the pressure was becoming too much and it wasn't long until it finally broke loose and flooded all over his cock. you gripped onto his back tightly as your orgasms hit you like a freight train. your walls tightened up squeezing him tighter.

“fuck, (Y/N)…” he muttered through the kiss, releasing his thick ropes of cum into you and you panted heavily as he let go of your legs.

once your breathing settles down he kisses your sweaty forehead softly, his heart beating out of his chest as he holds you close. “I love you so much." he whispers “I love you, too, mingyu.” you smile, holding him tightly. after everything was settled, you both lay down in silence, listening to each other's heartbeat.

"my moms gonna absolutely scold me." you mumble softly before drifting off to sleep and he chuckles at your words before kissing your forehead one last time before falling asleep as well.

・・・ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆, you wake up in Mingyu’s arms, laying on top of him and cuddling closer to him. his arm wrapped around your stomach and you snuggle into him, your face nuzzling against his bare chest and you hum softly under your breath. “good morning.” he says in his raspy morning voice before kissing the top of your head causing you to giggle quietly. you lift your head slightly, staring into his dark brown eyes. you watch as they scan over you and your face immediately heats up. “morning.” you say smiling widely at him before giving him a soft kiss.

"Enjoyed last night?" he smirks, caressing your cheek as he gazes into your eyes and you nod "I always enjoy anything with you." you tug down on your bottom lip, pulling him closer. "I'm glad." he hums, climbing on top of you and kissing your lips softly. his lips move down to your neck, leaving soft kisses behind. "Mm, mingyu we can't. I have to help my mom prepare and the kiddos are opening their presents now." you hum, wanting him to continue despite that. “even though we’re missing it.”

"We'll be quick.." He says rubbing his now hard-on against you and you chuckle. "promise?" you open your legs a little wider, letting him between them. he nods before kissing your neck again, running his hand up and down your inner thigh, making you bite your lower lip and arch your back. he pulls away, lifting himself a bit before he slips his cock inside of you and you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist as your back arches upward.

He moves his hips slowly as he looks into your eyes, watching your facial expressions before burying his head into your neck, nibbling on your earlobe while pumping his hips harder and faster, his teeth scraping lightly. you start moaning softly again which causes him to grow even harder at seeing your reactions. “fuck..” he groaned, grabbing ahold of your hips and slamming himself into you. “yes…” you whisper into his ear, gripping his shoulders tightly. he lets out a guttural growl, his hips pounding against yours with every movement of his body and soon you start feeling waves of pleasure washing over you, your moans getting louder and he quickly kisses your lips to shush you.

He picks up the pace once more and you clutch on his shoulders, your nails digging in, as he comes into you hard. you both collapse back onto his bed, exhausted from the intense sex. Mingyu rolls over on his side, hugging you close to him while you wrap your arm around his waist. "Nothing like morning sex, huh?" I mumble as I snuggle closer. he chuckled and kisses the top of your head before replying "not at all."

Mingyu pecks your lips before removing himself from the bed. he walked into the bedroom and grabbed a clean rag and wets it up. after he squeezed the unneeded water out of it, he walked back into the bedroom and saw that you were trying to sleep and he quickly woke you up. “no no, we have things to do.” he says as he pulls you towards the edge of the bed and cleaned you up.

After you two were all ready and fully showered and cleaned, you walked down the steps and your mom instantly looked at you two. you gave mingyu a kiss on the cheek before walking into the kitchen and you looked up at your mom who was preparing the food alongside my dad. I raise an eyebrow “what is is it, mom?” I ask her with a confusing frown.

she chuckles. “you know, I couldn’t keep my hands off your dad either but… there are children here.” she says quietly and you gulp. “first of all, ew I don’t think I needed to know that and I know, we were just caught in the moment and it’s been days since I’ve seen him since I was here half of week but I do apologize.”

“Thank you, now I need help with this.” Your mom says and you grab the cake and carefully carrys it into the dining room and places it down on the table with everything else.

After everything was prepared and ready, you all began to eat after a prayer. you sat down beside mingyu and instantly smiled at him.

“My mom scolded me as I told you.” he chuckled at your words “I know, she scolded me too, didn’t expect it if I'm being honest.” you giggle at his words before starting to eat your food little by little as your family talked in the background.

I took a deep breath. “this is the best christmas ever, mostly because i have everyone to share it with.” you smile softly at him. “I’m glad, because…this is my favorite christmas ever.” he said looking over at you and you smiled. “I love you.”

“i love you too.”

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 © 𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞.

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sheisjoeschateau · 3 months

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve... | PART VII

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER VII WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, ruthless banter, mentions of death, injuries, end-of-the-world terror talk, newfound shared codependency (but like it's healthy imo also it's valid lmao) jealousy. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this chapter is honestly a gahdamn MF feast. a favorite of mine NGL, for a multitude of reasons. Murray high key pops the fuck off like the boss bitch he is and takes us on a long lecture of a journey to visit the lordt of truth bombs. Eddie has zero chill. Robin is the bestest-best-fwend and platonic-with-a-capital-p soulmate to our boy. Dustin is a dingus. LUCAS BE SEEIN' THINGS. Hopper is Joppering. Nancy and Jonathan get a clue. Mama Steve and the kids are in full swing. We get a cutie cameo from Harrington's signature yellow sweater.

And our lovebirds finallyyyy......well.....say the magic word that they're feeling hehehe:)

ISSA LONG ONE. PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve knew he would have to face downstairs again at some point before the morning. Definitely before everyone else went to bed. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Not yet.

Because right now, you were fast asleep in his arms. Laid carefully on your back for the sake of your bad shoulder, with your head turned into his chest. Steve was propped up on an elbow, facing you with his other hand gliding his fingertips to trace your arm draped across your chest. He drew shapes up your arm, now adorned with his yellow crewneck, up to your jawline so that he could tuck your hair behind your ear.

And all the while, he just stared at your chest – comforted by the steady rise and fall. It kept him sane. It kept his eyes open. It kept him from letting the nightmare return. You slept so peacefully, he might never have known you’d been dead in his arms earlier that day.

“You are beautiful, Steve Harrington.”

Your words from last night ran through his mind on a loop, like a VHS tape on replay.

“I can’t stand you.”

You’d said it in the warmest voice Steve had ever heard in his life. Somehow, those words meant more to him than I love you. Because when he said it back, he realized it meant the same thing.

“I can’t stand you either.”

I love you too.

Steve carefully placed his forehead against your temple, eyes fluttering shut and breathing you in. Something danced inside of his stomach. It ached, it burned and it warned him of all the things he feared feeling the most for anyone except the girl downstairs who had made love seem lost. He never wanted those feelings to return again for anyone else but her – Nancy. And yet here he was: every one of those feelings rushed back tenfold, for the girl upstairs in his guest bedroom lying beside him. The girl who had ruined the chance at a life for him with Nancy Wheeler. The girl he swore was the reason he was robbed of all things good. Robbed of love. True love.

But he no longer loved Nancy Wheeler.

Steve Harrington loved you.

Downstairs, everyone is quiet but productive.

Joyce is organizing the last of the stashed supplies. The kids are eating some bowls of hot soup, served up by Murray. He had to stay busy and shake off the frayed nerves. Otherwise, he’d go berserk. Completely berserk. Joyce gently helped him but knew better than to baby him. She was surprised to find Erica walking over, offering to help serve up some glasses of water or sodas for everyone. To everyone’s surprise, they operated well. Like chef and sous-chef. What an unlikely duo.

Hopper and El were talking in the living room about the potential new plan, and Mike moved from the table where he sat with the kids and teens to join them.

Steve could hear them all down there, the ambience muffled on the other side of the closed door separating you both from the rest of the world outside of each other's arms. He could have fallen asleep right there with you if he let himself.

But a soft knock on the door made him crane his head to look towards the source of the noise. With one last look at you, he carefully slipped his arm out from underneath you. You never stirred, the rhythm of your breathing still intact and your mind lost in sleep.

Steve wasn’t sure who to expect on the other side of the door. But as he ran a hand through his hair, he found himself not caring.

Turns out, it was Murray. He stood with two bowls of hot soup, now staring into the eyes of Steve Harrington — who he begrudgingly noted still looked dashing, despite his towel-dried bedhead and tired eyes.

Seriously, no one should make a t-shirt and sweatpants look that good.

Your uncle cleared his throat. “Uhh, I made some soup.”

Steve gave him a timid but grateful nod, taking one of the bowls. Glancing back over his shoulder, Murray followed Harrington’s gaze — back at you, sleeping in bed.

“She’s still out,” Steve told him.

Murray nodded. “I’ll keep hers warm downstairs.” An awkward silence fell over Murray and Steve, but finally your uncle continued. “Listen, why not come down? Let her rest, get yourself some water or — a sandwich maybe, to go with the soup. Erica says she’ll make them but I'm reallllly not feeling confident about that.”

Steve allowed himself a soft chuckle at that, biting his lip and glancing back at you.

“She’s alright,” your uncle assured Steve. “Trust me. I keep having to remind myself that, too.”

Steve was glad that the two of them could relate on that — endlessly worrying about you. He was also glad that your uncle wasn’t giving him shit for it, and honestly Murray was extremely pleasant when he wasn’t being an ass. It took Steve by surprise. No wonder you two were related. With a reluctant sigh, Steve agreed to follow Murray downstairs for some more grub.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Steve’s eyes first landed on Nancy sitting with Robin and Joyce. She looked over at Steve with her big blue eyes, which danced with longing. Steve’s doe brown eyes didn’t return it, but he lightly smiled in her direction anyway. Robin immediately perked up, jogging over to Steve from her seated position on the floor. She grabbed him for a tight hug, and he made sure not to spill his bowl of soup.

“Sorry sorry, I’ve just — been worried sick.”

“S’okay, Robs,” Steve murmured, appreciating the comfort. She pulled back to look at him, giving him a sad smile. She wanted to ask him a million questions, but knew it best to save it for later.

“C’mon,” Robin told him, tilting her head towards the kitchen. “Let’s go grab some crackers or something to go with that soup, which you need to eat. Don’t even think about not eating, Steve. I’m serious, okay?”

Steve listened to her keep rambling on as they walked into the kitchen, where Erica and Lucas were bickering about PB&J’s, and Murray stepped in to take back his title as head chef. Eddie and Jonathan were sitting at the dining table, clearly in deep conversation but ceasing once they noticed them walking in. Jonathan gave him a pitying look, while Eddie flashed a dopey grin to try and hide whatever serious talk was just going down.

Dustin, Mike and Will all rounded the corner as Steve moved to sit at the bar. They all sat next to him happily. YAY, MOM’S HOME.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair absentmindedly as he sipped on his soup and stared down at his spoon. Erica was shoving a very haphazard looking sandwich in front of him while Lucas told him he’d spit it out after the first bite, which sent all the kids into a frenzy of bickering, lighthearted insults and witty comebacks. Steve sighed, content as he ate several mouthfuls of the sandwich while listening to his kids squabble.

Jonathan was shaking his head over in the corner, observing this. “Guy’s a hero to those kids,” he murmured, only loud enough for Eddie to hear.

“Babysitter turned full-time mom turned hero,” Eddie smirks, amused. “Dude’s a legend.”

Jonathan scoffs, amused but also not. “Wasn’t always...”

Eddie clocks what he means by that. He knew King Steve, too. But Eddie can see a twinge of something else in Joanthan’s eyes, surprised to see it. Jealousy. It’s subtle. Not toxic, or even remotely a threat.

That is, until Jonathan sees Nancy moving to take a sandwich from Erica — her eyes wandering over to Steve and the kids. She looks enchanted, melancholy. Is she sad? Why is she sad?

…why is she sad looking at Steve?

Jonathan’s brow furrows. Eddie decides he better speak up and interrupt whatever he’s thinking. Because he sees it too. Uh oh.

“Trust me, he was a dick. I know. Told him so myself.” Eddie tries to make light of it, grinning. “But I think sometimes…some folks just need a big thump on the head. Shit, I did. I used to run away from alllllll my problems. Hell, I…I’ve even had my share of making others feel small, just so I can feel big. Not in a bad way, though. Never mean. Just…immature. Y’know? Point is, I’ve been there too. Maybe not as big a dick as Harrington…” He snorted. “No pun intended.”

Jonathan whipped his head in Eddie’s direction. What did that mean?

Eddie quickly tried to cover up his reference to the Hawkins High heartthrob’s manhood. “I just mean, I just mean — like — we’ve all been dicks. You know? Big ones. Small ones. Medium…sized…ones.”

He counted at least 5 perplexed blinks from Jonathan. Eddie sighed, exasperated with himself. “The point, the point. We uhh…we live and we learn. Right?”

Jonathan finally let his tense shoulders loosen up at that, but he glanced back at Nancy – who was still watching Steve as she got herself a glass of water and letting Robin ramble to her. And Jonathan also watched Steve, who was now telling Dustin to share the box of crackers with everyone and not hog them from everybody.

It began to click for Jonathan. The longing stares. The unusually strained affection between him and Nancy, ever since he got back. He knew that was partially his fault, if not entirely his fault, given him pulling away from her after moving to California. But then he got back to Hawkins, and realized the second he saw her that he’d been a fool to think he would ever be better off without her, or convince himself that she could be better off without him. One look at her made it all go away. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and Jonathan was definitely aware of that now.

But had it made Nancy’s heart grow fonder, too? For Jonathan?

…or had distance made her heart grow fonder for someone else…

Someone else who she had distanced herself from once before, when she found love and comfort in Jonathan Byers’ arms. Harrington had been away from Nancy when she was around Byers, and then Byers was away from Nancy when the world went to shit again, putting her back around Harrington again. No Byers in sight.

…was this karma? Jonathan Byers was beginning to wonder that. Was this what he got for so confidently whisking Wheeler away from Steve back in high school? Is this what he got for thinking he was safe?

…maybe that is what Steve meant when screaming at him earlier, as they tried to pump you back to life.

“DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP.” Jonathan would never forget the way that Steve’s sounded as he spewed at him. Broken, anguished and betrayed.

“IT’S NOT WORKING,” Jonathan had wept bitterly. “IT’S TOO LATE.”

When Nancy had chosen Jonathan, Steve never got mad. He never got mad at either of them. He told Nancy he got it; that it was okay. And he never said anything to Byers about it. Next time they ran into each other, it was just tense silence. Steve might have picked a fight with Jonathan once before, that damn morning in the alleyway when Will was still missing. But that was 2 years ago now, and it felt childish compared to everything that had happened since then. Steve’s anger then was so subdued to what it could have been, and he never explored anger towards Jonathan once he had successfully managed to take his girl.

But the way that Steve Harrington looked at Jonathan now, while you were dead beneath their hands, was fueled by anger. Red hot and flaming. He looked ready to finally unleash on Jonathan, ready to blame him for his existence and how it only brought Steve grief. For once, Steve Harrington looked rightfully angry with Jonathan Byers for being the source of his pain. Steve looked ready to punch him square in the jaw and beat him up the way he’d had his own face beat up by not just Byers, but also Billy Hargrove and the Russians.

“DON’T SAY THAT. NO ONE GAVE UP ON YOUR BROTHER, YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST GIVE UP ON US NOW? THINK ANY OF US WANTED TO STOP WHEN WE THOUGHT IT WAS TOO LATE? FUCK YOU, BYERS. FUCK YOU.”

Jonathan deserved it. He completely deserved it. All of it. It had been a long time coming, and while it was over 2 years past due…he took it. All of it. Even what was still left unsaid. Jonathan let Steve verbally rip him to shreds before Eddie took over and brought you back to life with Steve instead of him.

And that’s why now, as Jonathan watched Nancy catch him staring at her — looking caught as she tried to give him a smile — he let it happen. He just gave her a reluctant smile back, accepting his fate. Because now, after what he had seen today, he realized that Steve wasn’t even a threat. Maybe a month or so ago, he would have been. But that wasn’t the case now, which he only knew after seeing the way that Steve clung to you and sobbed uncontrollably over your lifeless body – then afterwards, when you were alive again.

Steve no longer pined for Nancy Wheeler. He pined for you.

Not for long, though. Honestly, it was as clear as day that whatever was going on between the two of you was mutual. The way you held Steve earlier, comforted him — assuring him that it was alright, you were alright — and how you stroked his leg in the living room before he helped you upstairs and disappeared for a couple of hours into your assigned guest room… Jonathan knew, along with Eddie, that Steve Harrington’s heart was in your hands, and yours was his.

It’s what Jonathan and Eddie had brought up at the table. Not the whole “why hasn’t Steve unleashed his anger on me until today” aspect of things. But the fact that you and Steve, who seemingly could not stand each other, now seemed like a pair.

Nancy moved to sit next to Jonathan, who awkwardly poked at his soup bowl and did his best to fake a smile. Eddie watched them, knowing. Man, he could really use one of his guitars right now to pluck out the tension…

Lucas was saying something about Max needing to be checked on upstairs, which made Steve quickly shove the last of his sandwich into his mouth so that he could come help him and Erica along with Will, El and Mike. They all made their way up, and Dustin stayed behind. He moved over to the big kids table, bringing the box of crackers over with him. He plopped down next to Eddie, who was grateful for the comic relief after the tense talk at the table. Robin moved to bring over fresh cups of coffee, sitting between everyone.

“So uhhh, we gonna talk about it?”

Dustin’s question made everyone freeze.

Robin cocked an eyebrow, leaning onto her elbows to sip her coffee. “About what…?”

“About Bauman and Steve, and how we all clearly did not see it coming.”

Robin choked on her coffee. Nancy stiffened next to Jonathan, which he didn’t miss — considering her hand was resting on his forearm. Eddie drummed the table awkwardly while nodding and staring straight ahead at absolutely nothing.

“Yeeeeeee-up, caught me off guard,” Eddie said. “I’m normally good at picking up on that shit.”

Robin was still working on clearing her throat. “Look, we don’t know anything yet —”

“He’s literally your best friend, Robin,” Dustin accused with an eye roll. “If any of us know, you do.”

“Well my strange, tiny friend,” Robin quipped wryly, “I’m afraid I’m just as in the dark on this as you are.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat with a flash of concern in her eyes. “I really should have seen it coming, though. I was so sure he was just gonna keep on hating her guts.”

“I still don’t understand why he hated her at all,” Dustin said, adorably naive.

Eddie smirked, uneasy. “Meh, not important.”

“Seriously, they got along just fine whenever we fought the demodogs,” Dustin continued, oblivious. “And at the snowball, but then after that he just – went at it with her all the time, even though they would both still hang out with us. Like an old married couple.”

Nancy listened intently, trying to keep up and put the pieces together. Because truly, she herself had been wondering what changed. But she had been so focused on her life, in her own world with Jonathan and their jobs, she really hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that you and Steve had gotten along at the start, then not at all, and now…well…

Robin puffed out a breath of air. “Maybe they’ve just…gotten closer. You know, found a way to get along. Murray’s an ass, and even though she’s not and I love her, Steve’s not exactly the easiest to get along with even though I love him —”

Dustin scoffed. “Robin. He kissed her.”

Eddie clicked his tongue, trying to think of Metallica lyrics and avoid looking in Nancy or Jonathan’s direction.

Robin stared. “What?”

“When?” Nancy’s voice startled the room, and Jonathan seemed to cringe at it.

“Dustin,” Jonathan sighed.

“Today,” Dustin kept talking. “Whenever we…brought her back. He — he kissed her. He literally bawled on top of her and wouldn’t let her go.”

Dustin’s eyes lost all of the annoyance, now looking sad as he thought back on it all. Robin stared at him along with Nancy, barely breathing. Even Eddie looked over at him.

“I’ve never…I’ve never seen him that upset,” Dustin murmured. “Steve’s never sad. Not like that. I’ve never even seen him cry. Not once. Robin, did he ever cry while you both got tortured in the Russian chambers?”

Robin thinks back on that, gnawing at her lip, deep in thought. She shook her head, realizing… “No. No, he didn’t. Just – panicked, but not…he didn’t cry.”

“Exactly,” Dustin says. “Because he’s awesome. He’s brave, and cool, and awesome. Steve doesn’t cry. Today? He bawled.”

“Seeing someone die in front of you does that, man,” Eddie pointed out, melancholy. “I know I did whenever Chrissy died… You cried today. I did. Byers did.”

“Not like that,” Dustin insisted, voice firm. It made everyone go quiet again. “Not like that,” he repeated. “That’s how I would have cried if…like, if Suzy died. Or how Lucas did when Max died before we got her back. How Hopper and Joyce would. How Jonathan and Nancy would.”

That made the present couple go stiff. But Jonathan nodded, eyes boring a hole into his coffee mug. “S’true,” he mumbled. “If that were you, I would.”

Nancy looked at him, eyes guilty. Of course, it was the same for her. But she couldn’t focus on that right now. Not now that her collective thoughts and observations were confirmed. Now that she knew for sure…

“It’s not a matter of if they’re into each other,” Dustin kept going, certain. “It’s a matter of when. When did it start and how were we blind?”

But no one could answer that. Robin couldn’t, and she was shocked that she couldn’t. She knew her best friend all too well. How had she not seen this coming? How could she not have sensed that his never ending hatred towards you was slowly developing into liking you? Maybe even loving you…?

Eddie had only started sensing it that day. Until then, he had been the one to encourage Steve to go after Nancy. To get her back, win her over. But that stopped whenever Jonathan came back into the picture, of course. He knew better than to cross that line. Still, he knew that Harrington loved her and pined for her. He also knew why Harrington couldn’t stand you, along with Robin. They adored you, hoping at some point that you both could just become friends who tolerated each other. Eddie never thought it would become more than that: a civilized friendship.

And Nancy felt something heavy sit on top of her chest that she really could not seem to accept yet: the truth. She lost Steve.

“Alright, guessing game is over.”

Murray’s voice rounding the corner made everyone jump, and he eyed down everyone at the table as he walked in with his empty soup bowl. He made for the sink, turning on the faucet with his eyes still glued to the five people seated at the dining table, who stared back awkwardly. Finally, he looked down as he washed his dish.

“Take it from the witchdoctor of love: those two had it coming.”

Eddie cocked an eyebrow, completely amused.

Jonathan, however, was not. This was so karma.

“...had what coming?” Dustin asked.

Robin shot him a look — bless his little naive heart.

“Psh, c’monnnn,” Murray said, rinsing the bowl. “The sexual tension. The incessant arguing. Harrington’s personal utmost disdain towards her.”

Nancy spoke up, unable to help herself. “But…why though? She didn’t do anything wrong. Why would he have disdain towards her…?”

Jonathan hated how irritated Nancy’s question made him feel towards her. It irked him deeply, but he just let it fester quietly as he sat there staring down at his cup of black coffee and having no choice but to listen.

Murray looked at Nancy with the most condescending expression, uncensored as fuck. “Honey…really?”

Off Nancy’s clueless expression, Murray rolled his eyes in the back of his skull as he slapped the faucet off before whirling to face them.

“Once upon a time, two years ago: you and Jonathan came over to my bunker — uninvited — waltzing your way into my business, along with my niece’s. Thankfully, to our benefit, you helped us crack the case and — not so much to our benefit — onboarded us into your mess. But rewinding back a few slides, you two stayed over because of the vodka coursing through all of our veins and tried to convince the two of us — AKA yourselves — that you two were just friends. Which was the biggest load of unbelievable bullshit you both could have told me, and that’s after you told me everything pertaining to the absurdity and pure insanity regarding the upside down. But really, it was a great belly laugh for me and my niece, so thank you. Thennnn, my niece offered to let you both take her bed — not buying a lick of it, and suggesting you both stop being in denial. On top of that, as a former student at Hawkins High, she knew King Steve very well. She knew how Wheeler and Harrington both started dating, and how much closer the two of you —” (he gestured between Jonathan and Nancy) “— had gotten since Will Byers went missing then got rescued. Because my niece isn’t stupid. She could’ve been class valedictorian if she’d wanted to, but — being like her cynical uncle — she didn’t wanna. She’s a street-smart annnnnd booksmart cookie. She knew you both were bound to let the trauma bond get you both together, and that genuine love had formed between the two of you way more than it had between her and Steve. So she called it out, after being fed a bunch of coo-coo-bananas nonsense from you guys in my casa about being 'platonic.' "

Eddie's jaw was practically touching the table. This was literally the best story he's ever heard, and it had just freaking started.

Robin felt like she was watching a movie in her mind, one in which her best friend was the main character and she was rooting for him like life depended on it.

"Fast forward to the lab, El’s grand return, Will’s exorcism, the demodogs, the Snowball, and our little house party that followed —” (he pointed at Dustin) “— you forgot that part — turns out, Jonathan Byers can’t take his liquor, so what does he do? He goes over to my niece, who’s standing in the kitchen — like so,” (he gestured to himself) “ — and starts profusely thanking her in a string of loud, slurred, drunken words, about how he was chosen one, and how he got the girl, alllllll thaaaaannnksss toooo myyyyyy niiiieeeeeccccce."

Nancy's blood ran cold. What?

"And because it was such a small house, no offense Henderson, unlike Casa Harrington — the king himself heard it all. Every lick of it. So of course, who’s he gonna hate with a fiery burning passion more than he ever could hate Jonathan Byers for stealing his girl? The person who told him to do it. Myyyyyy niece. Because he can’t hate Nancy Wheeler, never-ever-ever could he hate the girl he swore was the love of his life. And he couldn’t even hate Jonathan, because what had he done except be the victim of King Steve’s incessant bullying and his horrible posse of friends in high school while his brother was missing in another dimension? But Steve had to hate someone. To loathe someone, blame someone, more than himself. So he chose her. He chose my niece — and by extension me, but mainly her. Because she was a part of the gang now, and around way more than I ever have been around you kids. Which is to be expected. So blah-blah-blah, hate-hate-hate, fight-fight-fight — soooo muchhhh traaaauma.”

Murray paused for dramatic effect, soaking in everybody's faces, then continued.

“...and what happens when there is trauma?... bonding. Trauma bonding. Forced alliance. The need to put aside your differences, so that you all can just get along and survive. And that leads to talking…which leads to more fighting…eventually, tears. Lots of ugly words that can’t be taken back. And then…suddenly…” Murray snaps his fingers. “Common ground.”

No one has made a sound, hanging onto Murray’s every word.

“Vecna ends the world. At least, Hawkins. We all somehow manage to survive it. We all need somewhere to goooo…and we wind up here. In a house, all underneath the same roof. Forced to coexist. Therefore, newfound respect and understanding is acquired when in close quarters. Just as the two of you, Ms. Wheeler and Mr. Byers, found in my bunker. Steve and my niece found themselves forced to live with one another, the space between them closing in. Gap by gap, inch by inch…until…”

Murray made a gesture that looked like that of a magician, everyone’s eyes following. “Magic.” He walks closer, slowly. “Some small talk becomes bigger talk. Some childhood trauma that decorates the walls of Harrington’s house becomes the topic of conversation. My niece just so happens to be a really good listener, and Steve happens to be in need of one. They both discover they’re the only child in both their families. His parents are absent. Hers were barely ever present, before surrendering her to both mine and my mother’s care. But she doesn’t mention that yet, no — why? Because she’s listening. Relating. Understanding. Meanwhile, Steve feels heard. Seen. Relevant. Important. Like maybe whatever he has to say matters. Fast forward some more, blah-blah-blah…some more co-parenting later…which honestly, is the only reason those two maintained some sort of peace in the first place — aside from the inevitable perils that we all have had to face and be paid to keep our mouths shut about…”

Murray points to Dustin, who stares at him — agape.

“You kids are the damn glue holding those two doomed enemies-soon-to-be-lovers together. Not that you knew that. You’re kids, and you don’t know that shit yet. Which is good. And they love that. Steve might hate her, but he’s not gonna make you kids hate her. And she finds him infuriating, but she isn’t gonna let you all know that by persuading you to feel the same. Because he loves you rugrats, and you all love him…and you rugrats love her, as she loves you. Fast forward to a night when all the kiddos are fast asleep, and the adults get a night to themselves with some cups of chilled vodka that fuels everyone’s laughter and newfound liquid courage — but just enough to give a light buzz, rather than sloshed drunkenness — the enemies, who’ve now become somewhat of friends…realize that they feel more. Or at least, that’s what I observed. Grilled my niece about it, that night before bed — and next thing you know — she is the victim of Uncle Murray’s love-talk lectures. Just like you two were. She’s swearing up and down that she cannot stand Steve, and that he cannot stand her. She insists they are mortal enemies. That he hates her. Will forever hate her. And then…that rambling turns into truth. Admittance. Denial, still. But it’s enough to go off, allowing me to paint the picture and speak the truth into the world out loud: WE DO LOVE STEVE.”

Nancy freezes at that, eyes wide and heart blue. She swallows thickly, and Jonathan feels sick.

Murray's conductor waving hands settled down, ready for the grand finish.

“...someone had to love Steve. But it wasn’t you, Ms. Nancy Wheeler. Not forever, anyway. Not in the desperate, novel-esque ways we all read about or see in the cinemas. But it was her. You liked Steve, so that she could love Steve. And he loved you, so that he could hate her…only to realize that he loved her. Deeply...madly...and truly.”

Murray leaned back, letting his rant come to a full stop. The air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Mouths agape, brains fried and heartbeats racing. They were stunned into shocked silence. With a sigh, Murray made for the fridge.

“Do me a favor…” He grabbed some juice, along with the vodka, pouring himself a cup. Then, with a severe look in his eye, he faced the group again.

“Don’t make a damn fuss about it yet, yeah? Not yet. Not to them. Wanna do it with each other, go ahead. But maybe lay off them for a bit, will you? Hmm?”

Everyone was surprised at the uncharacteristic parental tone in Murray’s voice and the look in his eyes. They felt parented now.

“Maybe let the shock of this newfound realization they both just came to accept barely before my niece stopped breathing today…I dunno…simmer down a bit, yeah?”

Dustin gulped, nodding. Robin did, too. Eddie had pretty much bitten his nails down to stubs at this point, and Jonathan had shrunk so far down into his chair he was practically on the floor now. Meanwhile, Nancy looked like a heartbroken child who’d just been told that Santa Claus wasn’t real. With that, Murray raised his glass of jungle juice and exited the kitchen — vanishing, leaving the group to sit there in their own unsettled energy.

So when Lucas, Erica and Steve all shuffled back down the stairs, it alarmed them. Robin stared at Steve and the kids, while Eddie rose to stand and grab the box of crackers from Dustin. Jonathan swigged his coffee. Nancy just stared at Steve helplessly.

“Alright, who needs more food before we all turn in for the night?” Steve asked as he moved to put away the sandwich fixings with Erica.

Nobody spoke, making Lucas look at them with a quizzical expression. Erica did the same, stopping as she went to put the sleeve of bologna back into the snack pan. Steve had been busy picking up discarded bowls and plates before he finally looked at everyone, too. He cocked an eyebrow, confused.

“You, uhhh…you guys okay…?”

Robin tried to speak, choking on air. Steve squinted at his best friend. Finally, she found her voice. “Sorry. Got the jitters. Too much coffee.”

She stood up hastily, collecting everyone else’s cups — even Jonathan’s, who was mid-sip. Robin avoided Steve’s gaze as she dumped them into the sink with a very fake, wide toothy-grin. She hummed while rinsing the cups, and Eddie clapped his hands together when rising to stand himself.

“Better, uhh, go re-dress my, uhh — dressings.”

“I got you,” Robin said, splashing the hot water and dropping the sponge so that she could hurriedly dry off her hands and follow Eddie out of the room – giving Steve a quick kiss on the head. He watched her go, curious.

But then he saw Jonathan and Nancy sitting over at the table still, along with Dustin — who was staring back at him sheepishly. The curly-haired kid stood up, clearing his throat and shuffling over with the now very-empty box of crackers. He whistled while tossing it into the garbage and moved to finish the dishes. That definitely made Steve raise an eyebrow. But he figured it was out of pity, so instead he just gave the kid a pat on the back and ruffled his hair before going back to tidying up the kitchen.

Nancy felt queasy. Really queasy. And looking at Steve was not helping, especially being seated next to Jonathan. She rose to stand, making him look at her back with queasiness of his own. He watched the back of his girlfriend as she started to turn to look back at him…and when she couldn’t, it made his heart sink. She walked towards the living room, disappearing behind the wall. But not before passing by Joyce, who made her way into the kitchen to give Steve a motherly touch on the arm.

“Dr. Owens will be here first thing in the morning,” she told him, reassuringly. “Real early. Probably 6AM. Hopper’s letting Murray know.”

Nancy refused to let herself cry that night about Steve Harrington and her newly unrequited love.

Jonathan watched his mom comfort Steve, and while it made him grateful it also made him sad. Steve sighed with relief as he thanked Mrs. Byers, and when his mother began to help him find some temporary pain medication that Dr. Owen’s instructed her to give you, he decided he couldn’t listen anymore and left.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with her, do you?” Dustin asked. “You know, heart-wise or anything…?”

“She’s gonna be fine,” Joyce told him sweetly, rubbing Steve’s back as he leaned against the kitchen counter with a tense back. “Her heart, her shoulder, her mind. Everything.”

Steve took deep breaths, and Erica would have hugged him if she weren’t so profusely against giving anyone any sort of physical affection.

Lucas, however, did move to squeeze Steve’s shoulder next to Joyce. After all the comfort he’d gotten from him after Max died, then got brought back…and still received, with her being in a coma…Lucas understood Steve’s pain.

No one knew it, but Lucas had secretly caught onto Steve’s feelings for you whenever he went to visit Max in her room one morning but heard you both sitting in there. Selfishly, he’d stayed behind the cracked door to listen in…and it made him freeze in place. They way you and Steve bonded, despite all the rivalry between you both. The way you both spoke to one another in Max’s presence, like she was keeping the storm at bay despite being asleep. Lucas felt as though he was listening to a conversation taking place between two fighting parents, who were finally finding common ground. He had secretly listened like a little kid, leaning against the wall, giddy and heartbroken at the same time. Lucas wasn’t sure why, but he knew. He just knew. You two were crazy for one another. Maybe because he and Max had their struggles, too. Maybe something about the way Steve pushed you, and you pushed Steve — maybe it reminded him of them, just as older teens. Steve was his hero, and you were Max’s. He would give anything to talk with her about it, to hear whatever she had to say about the two of you…the unlikely duo…

But he didn’t say anything about it. He felt it best not to push anything. Not yet. When Max woke up, he would. But maybe now, he wouldn’t have to. Because Steve had been faced with the possibility of losing you. And if he was gonna mess that up, then that's preposterous. Then Lucas would say something.

***

That night, Steve crawled back upstairs and ran into Robin coming out of his bedroom, having just discarded Eddie’s only wound dressings in the hallway bathroom and changing into her pajamas. She was staying in Steve’s room, per usual. And she wondered if she might have just caught him coming upstairs to sneak into your room and not his. At this rate, nothing was a surprise anymore. Thanks, Murray.

“Hey, dingus,” she grinned. Steve grinned back.

“You gonna finally get some sleep?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, gesturing to the blankets in her hands. “Was just gonna go give Eds some fresh blankets.”

“Lemme know if you need help with that, seriously. His wounds, I mean. I’ll have Dr. Owens check on him tomorrow too, whenever he comes to check on Bauman.”

Robin nodded, biting her lip. God, she wanted to ask him so many questions. Hug him. Tell her best friend to spill the damn beans. Demand him to cry, to break down in front of her. To scream. To laugh. Anything.

“Robs, you good?”

“Steve, I love you,” Robin blurted. “Like – love you to death. Best friends forever. Just — just…” She bit her lip some more, trying really hard to think before she speaks. Steve waited patiently, a bit nervous. Robin sighed. “Just know that…I’m here. And I’m always gonna be here. Supporting you, with…whatever you need. Even if that’s to shut up and just help you with something and not ask you any questions. Alright…?”

Steve’s eyes sparkled, and he stitched up the distance between them to give her the tightest of hugs. His best friend of a soulmate. Platonic with a capital P. Robin hugged him back fiercely, dropping the blankets. She sagged with relief. Thank God.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Steve mumbled into her hair.

“Cool.”

“Bed’s all yours. Spread out. Starfish. Steal all the covers.”

Robin snorted into Steve’s shoulder, squeezing him tighter. “Okay. Cool, yay.”

Steve chuckled too, squeezing her to death. He really did have the best friend in the world. They swayed a bit like that for a moment, content and comforted in each others’ embrace. Then finally, Steve pulled back and Robin ruffled his hair. He rolled his eyes, swatting at her lightly as she grinned wide. Scooping down to pick up the blankets, he handed them back over to Robin. She smirked.

“Is she a cover hog, too?” Robin teased.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t ask questions?”

Robin saluted, making her way towards the stairs. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Steve could finally breathe for the first time all day, aside from whenever you were safely in his arms. Knowing that he had his best friend on his side without needing to have a full blown conversation about anything yet…that really helped lighten the load a bit. He exhaled deeply, letting the relief seep into his bones as he made his way to his bedroom door.

***

Once inside, Steve felt his heart swell. There you were, tucked in bed still, sleeping peacefully. Steve walked over to crouch over and kiss your forehead, gently stroking your hair. He noticed you seemed to still be in the same position. Almost like you hadn’t moved at all. He looked at the clock. It’s…been hours. Several hours. At least 4. He looked back down at you, seeing how still you were in the dark.

His heart stopped. Were you too still?

Steve placed a trembling hand underneath your nose, too shaky to be able to tell. But when he felt nothing, he frantically grabbed your wrist — yanking it off your chest to feel for a pulse —

You moved, stirring awake and looking at him groggily. Steve just about collapsed, clutching your hand and bringing it to his lips as he sunk down onto his knees.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and another to your palm.

You groaned lightly, moving to turn towards Steve and yawning. He melted.

“How long have I been out…” you asked him sleepily.

“Hours,” he told you. “Which is good. You need sleep.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering tiredly. “M’hungry.”

That made Steve grin ear to ear. “I can fix that. Want me to bring it up here?”

A grin slowly made its way onto your face too, and you nodded gratefully. Steve squeezed your hand, leaning forward to peck your forehead and your nose and your lips before promising you he would return.

When he did, he came back with the bowl of hot soup that your uncle had kept warm for you along with water and some pain medication. You were sitting up now, leaning against Steve’s chest as he sat with his legs caging you in and leaned up against the headboard. You had just taken the medication a few minutes earlier, now sipping on the hot soup and a tall glass of water that Steve held onto for you.

The little bedside table lamp cast a soft glow in the Harrington’s upstairs guest bedroom, and the sound of light rain outside of the window filled the room along with the plink of your spoon against the soup bowl. Steve felt grounded as he kept his arms around your waist, circled around you as he held you close. His chin sat on top of your head, and the scent of his lavender shampoo in your hair filled his senses with peace.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Steve’s question surprised you as you slurped another spoonful of soup, but you swallowed and felt the corner of your lip twerk up into a little smile.

“Yellow.”

Steve felt himself smile at that, squeezing you a little tighter. “Guess this shirt was a good choice, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m glad you bought two. Rich kid perks ain’t so bad.”

There was lightheartedness to your tone that Steve found himself adoring. Craving, and yearning to hear more of – should time be on all of your side, in this godforsaken town.

“I wonder if Vecna’s rockin’ my other one down there.”

“Nah, the dogs are.”

Steve snorted, giving your hips a little squeeze and pressing a kiss to your temple. You sighed against him, sinking back and placing the bowl of soup onto your lap.

“What’s yours?” you asked him curiously, watching the shadow of the raindrops on the ceiling as they slid down the window.

“Blue. Sky blue.”

You hummed, placing one of your hands that sat on your stomach onto his and interlacing yours fingers. “Like a pretty, non-upside-down clear blue sky?”

“Schyeah, that.” Steve rested his chin back on top of your head as he glanced out the window, the black sky and rainfall sending a shiver down his spine. He wondered if the world would ever feel normal again…

Steve decided to ask you more normal questions, wanting to pretend that none of the dystopian reality just outside his house was real — just for one night. He asked you what your favorite movie was, shocked to find that you loved romcom’s. Especially Endless Love, Pretty in Pink and Working Girl. He wasn’t sure why he thought you’d say dark movies, or maybe sci-fi hits. Maybe Steve didn’t know what he expected you to say. But regardless, your answers fascinated him. He loved learning why you thought Sigourney Weaver’s character was misunderstood in Working Girl, which led to you both discussing women in the work force and how they should receive higher pay – equal to the men. Steve agreed with you, liking how passionate you were about it yet graceful and humble at the same time. You were smart, but somehow underestimated. It was strange. You were strange. Turns out, he loved ‘strange.’

And it also turns out, Steve liked not only action flicks — but dramas, too. Footloose and Baby Boom were on his list of guilty pleasure movies.

“Baby Boom??” you asked incredulously. But you weren’t mocking him, rather genuinely intrigued and amused.

“Hey, it’s adorable,” Steve defends himself with a fake scoff. “She adopts a damn baby and raises her as her own. Be nice.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, tilting your head back to look at him. “God…no wonder you love those kids so much. You’re a natural born mother.”

“Okay but seriously, since when did I become mom and not dad?”

“Apparently, I’m dad.”

“Again: since when?” Steve's tone made you chuckle deeply.

You and Steve talked until your tongues were tired, eventually having moved to lean back onto the pillows. He rested his head into his palm, propped up on an elbow and stroking up your side as you both enjoyed innocent pillow talk. Softly spoken voices, hushed just enough to hear one another. Real hearty laughter that you both muffled into your palms, or each others’ necks, so that you wouldn’t wake anyone. Sweet confessions about food preferences, least favorite holidays, questioning religion while wanting to believe in a god. How Steve thought that vodka was the kiss of death, while you found cigarettes to be disgusting. Steve craved strawberry ice cream, while you were a sucker for plain old vanilla. He loved diners, and you did too. He swore pancakes over waffles, and you made it very clear that French toast was the clear winner. It was a give and take conversation, and you both found it resulted in far more agreements than not. It was the loveliest conversation that either of you’d had in years. Maybe ever. Not just with each other…but with anyone at all.

“So…six kids and a Winnebago, huh?”

Steve’s eyes danced in the moonlight, looking at you with pure adoration. Shyly, he tucked your hair behind your ear, slowly nodding. “Heard that, huh?”

You gave him a little smirk. “It was a pretty small Winnebago.”

He shook his head fondly, then — “Yeah. Turns out being an only child gets to you.”

You nodded sadly. “Yeah. It does.”

Steve hated that you knew that same loneliness. But then again, was that what made you both see each other so clearly? Is that why you knew his deeply rooted longing and misery better than anyone else? Is that why maybe, just maybe…in telling Nancy to run off with Jonathan…you were protecting him? He wondered these things as he looked into your angel eyes, not knowing how in the world he could have not looked at them like this before…especially right when he met you.

You told Steve how you’d always wanted a dog growing up, which led to his immediately confessing he wanted a lab or golden retriever. You nodded eagerly. Yes. Those, or a border collie. A dog that felt like a true family member. Even a stray mutt who needed a home. You both laughed at the funny names you both wanted to name them as kids. Winston, Jeffery, Petunia, PeeWee, Pumpkin, Count Duku. When Steve suggested pancakes as a name, you had to literally turn your head into the pillow to keep your laughter from roaring through the room and waking the household. Even Steve felt like he’d pee himself from laughing so hard, watching you laugh so hard.

God, you were beautiful. You were so beautiful.

…when you smiled up at Steve, bashfully, he realized that he’d said it out loud. “So are you,” you breathed.

Steve shook his head. “I’m not, though.”

Your brow creased. “Yes, you are. You know you are…and if you don’t –”

“I don’t.”

“Well, you are,” you said simply.

Steve pressed his lips together, self-conscious. How had he felt so damn confident all those years in high school, even middle school, but not now? You reached up to push back some of his perfect hair, caressing his cheek.

“I haven’t been,” he confessed, almost in a whisper. “Not to you. I’ve been ugly. Really ugly.”

You looked into his guilty eyes, but Steve couldn’t find any anger or sadness in yours. Just understanding and forgiveness.

“I was, too,” you admitted.

“No,” Steve shook his head, adamantly. “Not like me.”

“Steve, I wrecked your life. Well, your love life. But still, I wrecked it.”

“No, you only wrecked it when you left it,” Steve confessed, bitter at the memory but not at you.

Never at you. Never again.

“Telling me I deserve better, and I…told you that you deserved…nothing.” He visibly winces at his own words. “God, I’m so sorry —”

“Steve,” you stopped him softly, cupping his cheeks. “Don’t. I’ve forgiven it. Really. You didn’t know. You were hurt.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” Steve whispered, looking at you with those beautiful doe eyes that shone in the moonlight. “I actively made a point to stop hurting people, and I did it again anyway. Worse. Way worse than my stupid King Steve days.”

You shrugged, trying to make him smile again. “King Steve was pretty amateur compared to the hard ass you became.”

Steve bit back a laugh, maybe even some tears. Still, he let the joke land. You crane your neck up to nuzzle his nose, making him sigh and return the eskimo kiss. Then you hissed in pain, letting out a little groan.

“What's wrong?” he asked worriedly, brow pinched.

“Stupid shoulder,” you muttered. “My ribs, too, damn…”

Steve looked down at your ribcage sadly, splaying his fingers there against your skin underneath his yellow crewneck. He sighed. “That’s because of me,” he confessed sadly. “Pounding on you nonstop today with the compressions.”

“Well in that case, I’ll take it. Pain’s good.”

You winked at him, and Steve tried to let that comfort him. It did, for the most part. Your oxygen intake really made it worth it, in the end. He leaned down to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you did the same.

“I don’t know where we’re headed,” Steve whispered against you. “Hawkins. The country. The world.” He paused, breathing you in. “Just know I want you there. All the time.”

You smiled, eyes still closed, heart fluttering. “Good. You’re stuck with me, Harrington. Bothering the ever-living shit outta you.”

“Bother me till I go insane,” Steve breathed, nuzzling his nose against you and grinning like an idiot. He felt happy. Absurdly happy. Who thought that was possible?

“...Steve?”

He opened his eyes slightly, finding yours were already looking into his. He waited, pulling back nervously. Which is stupid, considering you’d just told him you felt the same way. That you wanted to stay by his side, no matter what happens. So why was he thinking that just changed within a 3-second timespan? Why was he suddenly worried that you —

“I love you so much.”

19 years flashed before Steve’s eyes at that moment. His childhood. His pre-teens, and all the teen years that followed. He thought back to every single I love you that had been spoken to him. It hadn’t been many. At least not many that meant anything to him. He could count on one hand the amount of I love you’s that meant something to him over the course of 19 years. But now, he could count on one finger the one that meant the very most to him.

“I love you so much, too,” Steve breathed, eyes glassy and mesmerized as they looked back into yours. “God, you’ve no idea, I…”

Steve felt overwhelmed. He scrunched his eyes shut, resting his forehead to yours again and caressing your cheeks. He pecked your face, every inch of it, slowly. Little kisses peppering your face. “I love you so much.”

He could have bawled on the spot if he weren’t so completely entranced, swept up in the tidal wave of joy that splashed across his heart, mind, body and soul. Steve could bawl about it later. Right now, he simply leaned into your touch and vowed to never let you go.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

bless Murray and his impeccably uncensored madness. about time he set everyone straight, damn.

as alwaysssss, thank u for reading :) this series is so much fun. please comment, it always makes my day.

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fanfiction #enemies to lovers trope #joe keery #baron marmalade #jkeeryedit #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #mishas masterlists #Steve Harrington is a mother #mom steve

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highwayorgantrade · 8 months

Text

Safe House

Pairing: Female Reader! X Soap

Request: Nooo

Summary: Oh no! A bunch of soldiers posted up in your farmhouse bed and breakfast?? Whatever shall you do!! Should you fuck them??

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Overstimulation, begging, volume (keep quiet), unprotected sex, cervix kissing

Author's note: Okay listen y'all I did not plan on doing this whatsoever. I was in the middle of writing a Graves thing when I got this idea and I knew I just had to get that damn little brain worm out before it ruined my life further. This is gonna be a series!!!!!

The mission had gone wrong. Oh, so horribly wrong. 141 thought they were smart by teaming up with Los Vaqueros again to take down a trafficking ring - “Positive international relations,” Price had called it. “We even got imported muscle.” He grinned, referring to the 6’10” man they had called in, after hearing of his ability to do his job and keep his mouth shut.

However, the ring had decided on the same tactic, bringing in a nearby cartel to defend their location. Quickly, way too quickly, the group was overwhelmed, frantically phoning in to Laswell for extraction.

“Don’t worry,” She sighed, after directing the seven men to a relatively safe area, the black-tinted SUV already flying gravel. “I have a friend.”

You had just so happened to be the friend. Well, the relative was more accurate, being her sister-in-law. You knew what she did for work, but you never thought she would call on you for help with it.

“Please, (Y/N), it’ll only be for a few days, I swear. A week, tops.” She called you early one November morning. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” And you knew she wouldn’t. The fact was simple: You had lived relatively nearby, and the bed and breakfast you operated and lived in certainly had the facilities to house eight people, and it so happened to be the off-season.

You were eager to accept, happy to help your sister, and it would be nice to have some muscle with the chores that needed done around the property. When the SUV pulled up, you quickly regretted your decision. You had expected a house full of military boys, tearing around like a pack of dogs, but out stepped six of the most attractive men you have ever seen, all completely different, but equally as handsome and rugged. Two were masked, but Christ, were they big anyway. As they loaded packs out of the van, you stepped into the grass, the cold air causing you to draw your cardigan tighter around yourself. When you approached, you kept a safe distance - partly because you didn’t know them, but also because you were afraid that if you got too close, you’d get lost in the intricacies of their faces.

“Hey!” You spoke finally, the rustling of the dying leaves nearly drowning you out. “I’m (Y/N), I hope the trip out wasn’t too awful!” You internally cringed at yourself for giving them the usual spiel you reserved for guests, but continued anyway. “Come on in, all the rooms are pretty much the same, but you can pick, so… that’s something.”

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” One of them finally spoke, casting a friendly grin your way, and you turned quickly to hide the burning on your cheeks.

You were proud of the way your property looked, hidden well off the road in a small forested area, the whole thing had kind of an eclectic feel to it, but you still felt kind of strange leading them into the common area.

“Okay!” You clasped your hands together, and tried to remember that you were only a housing opportunity - they had more important things to focus on. “Well, uh, I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can, but you might see me flitting about here and there. What’s mine is yours.” Some nodded their thanks, others were making quick work of checking their bags for God knows what, and one, the one in a skull mask, merely stared down at you, his large arms crossed on his chest.

Okay… You took that as your cue to leave, and you quickly stepped out the back door, hoping to make progress on your chores before the sun set.

The frigid air felt nearly unbearable compared to how hot you were burning in their presence - you didn’t even realize that you were slightly sweating. With a sigh, you reminded yourself of your responsibilities. Repaint the gazebo, refill and hang the bird feeders, and fix the greenery so everything is in full bloom by summer. Leaves crunched under your step as the half-painted gazebo came into view. You could hear voices coming from your house, a few with different accents, mostly British, but you could pick out a Scottish, a vaguely German, and a couple Spanish lilts. A booming laugh echoed, and you relaxed your tense shoulders at the sound.

“Don’t make me regret this, Kate.” You mumbled as you settled into the grass and popped open a paint can.

She was pretty. It was the first thing Soap had noticed. It looked like she belonged here, in the woods, with the wind blowing her hair and birds singing in her presence. No doubt she kept them well-fed. He had barely listened when she spoke - he was much too focused on how her sweater wrapped tightly around her body, or how her eyes seemed to physically sparkle with curiosity. She had said something, Soap had no idea, but he responded anyway. Something about the drive? The rooms?

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” He answered, stabbing that it was an appropriate response. The way she averted her eyes and a hint of a smile played at the edges of her lips told him that he was successful. When she turned around to lead them into the safehouse, Price gave him a nudge and shook his head ‘no.’ No fucking Kate’s pretty little sister? Might as well ask him to walk on fucking water, next.

She had promised to make herself scarce, and Soap was silently thankful. He didn’t want this woman caught up in what they were doing, and he didn’t want her to know something that could get her in trouble - Laswell would never forgive them. When she left, Alejandro was the first to speak.

“Nobody talk to me about this mission tonight.” He grumbled, and Soap recognized that as a request long ago, based on the way his jaw was clenched nearly the entire drive to the location, muttering what Soap assumed to be expletives every so often. He trudged up the stairs with his bag, Rudy trailing not far behind.

“Right, then.” Ghost spoke, rolling his shoulders and pulling out a map of the enemy facility and laying it on the wood table, and Soap nearly laughed at how out of place it looked. “If they’ve gotten support from that gang, it eliminates them from support from anyone else, and makes them a target to others, not just us.”

“We need to get to them first.” Konig’s hand landed on the map, gesturing vaguely at an entrance. “This was lightly guarded.” Soap stared at the location, before his eyes flitted out the window to see you approaching a gazebo outside, and he itched to get this out of the way.

“Aye, they might reinforce that entrance since they know it’s weak now. Leaves somewhere else open to vulnerability.” Soap strategized, his eyes lingering on how your hands ran through your hair, and JESUS, how did it still look perfect after that? A light thump on the back of his head pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked back to see Gaz with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

“No-go, mate. Red zone. Laswell would have your head on a stick.”

“Might be worth it.” Ghost chimed in, following his gaze to the woman.

Price pointed a warning finger to Ghost, his face stony.

“Ghost, stop instigating. Gaz, leave Soap alone. Konig…” He took a breath, considering the man had nothing to do with their antics. “Good job. Soap, I wish I had control over who a soldier decides to sleep with, but I don’t.”

“That girl in Ibiza left a bad taste in your mouth, Cap?” Soap retorted, recalling one of his more infamous hook-ups, and Price laughed loudly.

“Lesson for the inexperienced,” Ghost turned to Konig. “Remember your date’s name or she will throw a knife at you.” Konig shook his head at this, and slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to call it a day.

“Sounds like my kind of woman.”

Soap had already tuned the ribbing out, and when Ghost packed up the plans, he was already tracing your path, walking out the back door to meet you.

A rustling of leaves caused your head to perk up, and you turned to see the one who had spoken to you earlier, a small smile on his face.

“Need any help?” He tilted his head at the gazebo. “More hands make less work ‘n all.” You looked back at your work, having made minimal progress since you began.

“Oh! Yeah, sure. If you want.” You responded, pulling the paint tray out in front of you so he could take the spare paintbrush. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“I’m Johnny. Most of the guys call me Soap, though.”

Soap? The nickname seemed to come out of nowhere, and you crinkled your nose at this.

“Why do they call you that? You shower more than everyone else or something?” He laughed at this, reaching up to cover the underside of a railing in white paint, and you fought to keep your eyes from lingering on his arms.

“Good at cleaning house, love.” Soap corrected you, your lips pursing at the nickname. “How long have you had this place?”

You shrugged, simply happy that he was making conversation with you.

“Coupl’a years. Since I was twenty. Bought it as a dump and flipped it.” He makes a noise of approval and takes a deep breath.

“Your, uh, boyfriend live here with you, does he?” At this, you can’t help but allow a laugh to tear through you, both in recognition of what Soap was doing, and out of pure shock that he was doing it.

“Not sure where my boyfriend lives, I haven’t met him yet. Let me know if you find him, though, yeah?” Soap shook his head.

“I don’t think I will, but thank you for the offer.”

The back and forth with Soap left your head reeling, and you considered your options as you painted in silence. Kate would kill you if she found out, but she doesn’t need to find out. It has been terribly long since you’ve even been on a date, or even had sex for that matter, and Soap certainly isn’t the worst looking man in the world. He clearly had a great body, and you delved down the rabbit hole of how his arms would look pinning your arms above your head, his battle-worn dog tag trailing cold electricity down your chest.

A flash of yellow light pulled you out of your musings, and a firefly landed on your knee. You took a deep breath and turned to Soap, his attention garnered by your sudden movement of waving the small bug away.

“Do you wanna have a drink tonight? With me?” Your face was comically serious, and Soap let out a soft chuckle as he replaced the lid on the paint, taking the brush from your hand.

“Aye.” He stood, sighing a bit at the noise his knees made, and handed you the paint tray.

“I’ll, uh, go put this up and meet you inside.” You offered him a small smile, and his head tilted at you, trying to hide his own.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Soap had to stop himself from running back into the house. Giddiness coursed through him, and he burst through the door to see Gaz, Ghost, and Konig sat in various places around the living room, the TV tuned in to the local news.

“Get the fuck out.” He stated simply, his eyes wide and a dumb grin on his face.

“Pardon?” Ghost barely spared him a glance, and Konig automatically stood, silently confused as to where he was supposed to go. Gaz merely stared up at him.

“I said,” Soap wrapped his hand around Ghost’s bicep and pulled, forcing the man to stand, and Gaz followed. “Get the fuck out.”

“You sendin’ us to bed, then, eh?”

Soap picked up Ghost’s bag for him, and shoved it into his chest, nearly pushing the men up the stairs.

“I am.” He turned to Gaz, his mouth already open to protest, and pointed a finger in his face. “If you fuck this up for me, I will end you.”

The second the three men shut the door to their respective rooms, you stepped back into the house, locking the backdoor behind you.

I raised an eyebrow at the television, and grinned at Soap.

“Did you turn on the news?” I ask, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine from cabinets, pouring us both a fairly full glass.

“Yeah, it’s a new form of foreplay.” He laughed, taking a sip. “Learnin’ that we world is shite.”

“Oh, so foreplay is important to you?” And that question was your first step. He glanced at you from across the kitchen island, and you could just see the gears in his mind turning, figuring out the best way to get himself into your bed. Honestly, he could have asked to bend you dead over the kitchen counter, his large hand pulling your hair as leverage as he thrusted into you from behind.

But your imagination always runs wild.

“Mm. ‘S very important.” You cocked your head at his answer, and he shrugged. “I prefer to have a girl simply beggin’ before I even think of finishing.” He took a step around the island, not quite in front of you, but leaning on the side. You sipped your wine again, trying to cover your reaction to his answer, but there was no wine glass big enough to cover how you pressed your legs together, one hand gripping the counter with slightly more force than necessary.

“How do you do that?” It was an effort to keep your tone even , trying not to show how badly he was affecting you.

“Eh.” He set his wine glass down, finger lightly circling the base of the stem. “Usually have ‘em coming a few times before I get my own.”

Holy fuck. You needed Soap, and you needed him bad.

“Ah, so only good reviews then?” Damnit, why is your voice suddenly higher? You cleared your throat to try to get it to return to normal, and the fucking bastard smirked at you.

“So far. Tell me, love.” That damn nickname again. “When was the last time you were fucked?” You opened your mouth to answer, but it didn’t matter as Soap began talking again. “Ah, lemme revise that. When was the last time you were properly fucked? The last time someone had you cryin’, had you just stupid on their cock?”

You were buzzing, shaking slightly at Soap’s vulgar words. His accent got lower, rougher as he spoke, and you could feel your arousal tying a knot in your throat.He simply stared at you, waiting for your answer with a dumb smile on his face, like he already knew.

“Oh, no, don’t tell me…” He began, in mock sympathy. “Never?” You shook your head at him, not wanting to tell him the truth.

In all reality, you’ve never orgasmed with someone else. It was all only you, and you learned quickly not to say this, as all men would try to be the first. Then you’d end the night by lying, and they would go with their egos inflated.

You both stood, the tension in the kitchen more than you could bear, and just as you were about to dismiss yourself for the night, Soap wrapped a hand around your forearm - Not tightly enough to worry you, but just enough so you looked up at him, your faces inches from each other.

“Love, I don’t like to, uh, think I’m all that, y’know?” He cleared his throat. “But I’d like to try. Show some thanks to our host.”

In one last attempt at quieting down your own perverse thoughts, you set your wine glass down, and looked at the floor.

“Ah, you don’t need to thank me Soap.”

“I absolutely do,” He responded immediately. “I really do need to. Nothin’ better than a pretty face while I work.”

You bite the inside of your lip, considering all the ways this could go bad. Every single one was overrun with the way Soap was searching your eyes, silently pleading for you. With a purse of your lips, you poured the rest of your wine down the sink, and smiled.

“Absolutely.”

You barely got the words out before Soap wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way up the stairs, searching for any room that didn’t look like it was already occupied.

“Mine’s on the other end.” You breathed in an effort not to laugh at his eagerness, and he turned on his heels toward a door that was differently painted than the rest. He placed a hand over your head, protecting you from a bump as he ducked through the doorframe, and less-than-gently set you on your bed, locking the door behind him.

When he turned, you didn’t see the sweet man offering to help you with painting, you saw a soldier. A soldier tuned into your every breath, every movement, and every thought. He kneeled in front of the bed, between your legs, and began planting lighter than air kisses on your ankle, untying your shoes and setting them to the side haphazardly.

“Red means stop.” He whispered against your skin, traveling upward to your knee. “Yellow is slow down, green is good. Repeat it.”

“Red is-“ You were cut off by your own gasp as he delivered a light bite to the inside of your thigh before kissing it again, and you could feel him smile against you. “Red is stop. Yellow is slow. Green is good.”

“And where are we now?” He breathed against the spot right where your thigh met your most sensitive area, and you felt your stomach jump.

“Green. So, so green.” A whimper escaped you, and Soap tsked, like he was about to scold you.

“Stay quiet, lass.” Teased Soap, as he slid your shorts down, along with your underwear, and he whistled lowly. “A Chriosd ann an ifrinn, seall ort, a nighean bhòidheach.” And with that, he licked one long, thick strip up your cunt, dipping down to tease your hole with his tongue. Soap was eating you out like a man starved, and you were obsessed.

Light, breathy moans left you, ever so aware of how quiet everything else was.

“Tell me what feels good, love.” He punctuated his command with a nip to your thigh, pulling your mind out of the pleasure-induced haze. His tongue traveled through your folds, eyes trained on you to see your reaction to his ministrations. Soap’s lips wrap around your clit, fingers toying with your soaking entrance, and it felt like all rational thought had left you. You didn’t care about who exactly was between your legs, nor if his team could hear your desperate mewls.

The pressure inside you was building, and your movement was strange - trying to wriggle away from the incessant barrage against your clit, and trying to grind impossibly closer to Soap’s lips, and by his huff, it was clear he had enough of that. One large arm wrapped around a thigh, his other pressing down on your abdomen, and the only noise Soap could muster was a few low groans as he continued devouring you.

The knot inside you was getting tighter and tighter, and it felt like it was going to snap any second. A split moment of panic ran through you as your back arched off the bed, Begs and cries tumbling out of your lips before you could think of them.

“Soap, please, please.” You cried, hands aching from gripping the sheets. “Please don’t stop, please…” Staying true to your direction, Soap was unrelenting against you, the combination of his sucking, biting, and licking at your clit had dizzy spots appearing in your vision. With one hard push on your abdomen, and a particularly slow drag of his tongue at your entrance, you felt that snap, and you finally understood why it was called the Little Death.

Your mind had gone completely blank, mouth open in a silent scream, and your thighs clamped around either side of Soap’s head, where he still had yet to stop drinking you. It felt like your heart had even stopped beating, until the pounding was heard in your ears. As Soap continued, you felt your body lurch upwards, fingers tangling in Soap’s hair until he finally looked up at you, his hand coming back to slide a finger into you.The sudden intrusion forced a gasp from you, and he gently kissed your thigh, where you noticed the ache that predates a bruise.

“How we doin’, love? We okay?” His voice was impossibly sweet, a complete 180 to how he just made you feel. You nodded, despite feeling like every single sense in your body had been blown out. His finger continued sliding in and out of you, your walls pulsing around him.

“Green.” You confirmed breathily, and he smiled a wolfish grin before adding a second digit into you, his pace quickening. A quick flash of aggravation and desperation coursed through you, and you knew how to get exactly what you wanted.

You looked down at him, eyebrows upturned in a pleading look, and your doe-eyes were working overtime.

“Please, Soap, just fuck me.” You said, voice higher and more gentle than you thought it would come out, and he groaned, rolling his head against your leg. His fingers took on a ‘come here’ motion, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the feeling.

“Ah, I know what you want. You want these…” Soap planted a kiss on your thighs, interrupting his own speech. “God, these pretty thighs pinned behind your head, taking me so well, takin’ me so good.” He looked absolutely pussydrunk, his eyes darting between your eyes and his fingers, tsking and offering a slight noise of false sympathy when a tear rolled down your cheek. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, and you could feel that fire building inside of you again. “Christ, love, you wanna come again, huh?” You nodded furiously at his question, one hand coming up to absentmindedly play with your tits. A bright look crossed Soap’s face, and while his hands continued, his mouth met your hands.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, and before you could think, he bit down - the orgasm that crashed through you was stronger than the last, and the muscles in your thighs screamed from being clenched so tightly. You felt his fingers work their way out of your pussy, hissing at the feeling of your walls clenching around nothing.

“You want me to fuck you now, pretty thing?” His face was almost smug as he climbed up on the bed, one hand going to your lower back to effortlessly raise you, and he peppered light kisses on your sweat-covered face. Of course you want him, how could you not? Your body was buzzing with the aftershocks of two orgasms, and here he was, lining himself up with you.

“God, yes, please.” You breathed, hands coming to rest on his back. Soap brought his lips down next to your ear, sending another shock straight to your core.

“Beg better.” He punctuated his command by rubbing his cock through your folds, and you twitched when the head ground against your already sensitive clit. Beg better? Fuck you, Soap.

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you and, hopefully, how serious you looked.

“Fuck me, Soap. Now.”

The simple instruction was all it took for him to push inside you, and it was like it activated something in him - Soap simply could not shut up.

“Ach, mo Dhia, tha thu a 'faireachdainn cho foirfe timcheall orm. So perfect.” He planted a kiss to your temple. “So perfect, my pretty girl.”

You brought your lips up to his neck, kissing the curve where it meets his shoulder, and his babbling only continued as his cock dragged against nearly every nerve, your broken moans echoing through your room. God, his slow pace was nearly agonizing, you wanted more, you needed more. It was like Soap read your mind as he paused, hooking your knees above his shoulders, effectively pinning you into the mattress. He flashed you a wicked grin before he began his jackhammer pace, and this new position had him reaching impossibly deep inside you.

A vague, low ache began in your abdomen every time he bottomed out, his head kissing your cervix every single time. The depth combined with his pace, his groaning and endless praise in your ear - it felt like it was all culminating in a perfect storm, one that was threatening to break down every fibre of your being.

“Fuck, Soap, I’m going to-” You interrupted yourself with a low, hoarse groan, your admission only spurring him on as he replaced his hold on your knees with his hands.

“Look at me, love, I wanna see it, I wanna see you.” His stuttering hips told you he was in the same spot as you, and you both were not going to last much longer. “Come for me, pretty girl.” He growled, and that was all it took for you.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as you released around him, and your ending brought his own on. Curses left him lips as he buried himself inside you, collapsing next to you.

“Ach, come ‘ere.” He breathed, reaching his arm out to hook around your waist and pulling you to him, one leg wrapping around his waist. One hand rested on your jaw, planting kisses on your forehead, cheek, anywhere he could get access to. Your body felt numb, and you knew he stayed true to his word - you were fucked absolutely stupid. You wanted to talk, you wanted to ask where this left you? Would you ignore that this happened? Would it recur? Would he tell his team about it? You wanted to ask, and yet you didn’t - The song of crickets and his heartbeat was a lullaby, and one that you couldn’t fight.

The snare of sleep overtook you as your heart rate evened out, and only one thought was on your mind before you gave up the fight for consciousness:

You really fucking hope you don’t regret this.

#mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #call of duty fanfic #cod x reader

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