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#waves tune real-time
madlichen · 2 years
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i wish my autism beam was real and i could shoot people with it and also give them autism too so everyone could be autism because when everyones autism no one is
#syndromes not evil the bad guy is society and mental health is so much more than keeping the crazies off the streets#i wish i could change society and be a queer little mouseboy who likes science#but no cannot have nice things society will make you the villain for trying to change it why are the villains always smart in movies#because they recognize the pain and suffering in the world thats why they see it and they actually do something about it#but that makes them evil thats why theyre the villain because they want change and change is bad#the us government is actively stopping me from changing the world for the better one person one autism beam at a time#birds arent real theyre government drones beaming 5g mind control waves into our synapses and i sciencedude have a solution#global havannah syndrome must be stopped we must the villain murderous scum hiding out in bushes from eating our babies#just so long as we only protect the unborn babies and not the children because the dead are more important than the living#enslave the middle class to the monopolies bring about the oligarchy bleed out on our machines to raise efficiency and bring costs down#in this essay i will explain why the coming downfall of society has everything to do with how we treat others#thiS IS THE POLICE OPEN UP THERE HE IS GET HIM wait no you got the wrong guy NO THE FBI NEVER MAKES MISTAKES I AM THE LAW#breaking news a man by the name of science dude has been arrested for reasons not even the fbi is willing to share#NO PLEASE IM INNOCENT HELP ME#wow they must have done something really bad if the police are arresting them lets influence our audience to think theyre bad as well#breaking news someone got cancelled its a crying shame this cancel culture business tune in next time to the only source of truth on tv#i want to live i want to live i want to live i want to live i want to live i want to live i want to live i want to live i want to live i w-#liiiiiiiiiiiiivvvvvvvveeeeeeeee#its a cold place and they say it gets colder#your bundled up now wait til you get older#but the media men beg to differ#judging by the hole in the satellite picture#the ice we skate is getting pretty thin#the waters getting warm so you might as well swim#my worlds on fire how bout yours#thats the way i like it and i never get bored#well the years start comin and they dont stop comin and they dont stop comin and they dont stop comin and they dont stop comin#im crawing in my skin these wounds they will not heal#janine janine youd like to know me well but there are things inside my head that even i cant face#these and other song when you tune in and enter to win 0% apr for the first twenty months no money down offer lasts until 10 years ago
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osaemu · 7 months
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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ YES, I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND, AND YES, SHE'S REAL! ❜❜
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.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: what happens when your gamer boyfriend brings you on-screen for the first time?
contents: fem!reader. use of she/her pronouns + reader is referred to as gojo's girlfriend. toji slander bcs he deserves it.
author's note: everyone welcome streamer!gojo to the world! he'll be here for a while...
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"oh, please," satoru laughs, leaning back and grinning at the screen in front of him. he tosses his hair, but it falls back into his eyes just seconds later. "no way you guys all thought i would lose that one. c'mon, have some faith in me!"
you watch satoru reply to the hundreds of comments lighting up the side of his monitor, smiling endearingly at the way he laughs at some and practically chortles at others.
it was only after the two of you started dating that satoru disclosed his streaming hobby, and to your surprise, he was pretty popular. thousands of people tuned in to watch him play some game or another every night, and well, it paid better than you'd expect.
satoru whistles, hands resting comfortably behind his head as a particular question catches his attention. "ah, do i have a girlfriend?" he muses, grinning as he shoots a quick side-glance at you. "yeah," he continues, snorting when what looks like a flurry of no fucking way's flood the chat.
he clicks his tongue disappointedly, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "what, did all eight thousand of you think i couldn't pull? thanks a lot," satoru deadpans, waving his hand and sighing dramatically. "i don't know what any of you mean. i'm a catch!"
you snicker at that, and your laughter only increases when satoru turns and gapes at you. he juts his bottom lip out, face sinking into an adorable pout at he crosses his arms. "even my own girlfriend's laughing at me," he mumbles petulantly. "hmph!"
satoru sticks his tongue out at you childishly, and you blow a kiss back. he pretends to faint before turning back to his monitor, quickly skimming the comments before he gasps. "what do you mean, she probably doesn't exist?!" he sputters, clutching his heart exaggeratedly.
the look on his face is priceless — imagine getting told by thousands of people that one, they think you can't pull, and two, that they don't even believe your significant other exists. naturally, satoru reacts as dramatically as ever. he pretends to ignore everyone in the comments before calling them out individually.
"oh, i see you, toji... fishy-guru," satoru gripes, wagging his finger at his screen. "my girlfriend exists and she's mine! don't even think about it." he pauses, squinting at the chat before correcting himself with an eyeroll. "fushiguro. whatever. either way, she's real and she's all mine."
satoru swivels his chair to face you, making an incredulous face as he gestures to the screen. "can you believe this?" he grumbles, ocean-blue eyes focused on you. "these guys don't think you're real."
you shrug, toying with the corner of his sheets as you smile back at satoru. he's so childish, but that's just one of the many things you adore about him. sure, he's an annoying brat, but at least he's a total sweetheart too.
your boyfriend extends his hand, beckoning you to come over to him. "c'mon, darling," he cooes, scrunching up his nose at you. "wanna help me prove these losers wrong?" satoru mouths please, and the puppy eyes he gives you are cute enough to convince you.
so you hop off his bed, running a hand through your hair as you stroll over to where he sits in front of his monitor. beaming like a kid on his birthday, satoru takes your hand and twines his fingers with yours.
smiling smugly, satoru pulls you on screen and into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. you watch the chat erupt with she's real's and how did he pull a girl like her's and smile, flicking satoru's forehead affectionately.
he ignores the thousands of dumbstruck users in his comments and holds you close to his chest, adjusting his grip on your waist to make his lap as comfortable as possible for you. satoru's adoring eyes are fixed on you, only you, even as his chat explodes.
suguru-geto: haha i already knew
toji-fushiguro: how the fuck did a loser like him pull her?
yuuji-itadori: gojo has a girlfriend??? what did i miss??
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writingsbychlo · 5 months
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BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy
summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.
word count; 8928
notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?
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Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction. 
Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat. 
“Good day?”
“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”
“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations. 
A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”
Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.” 
He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there. 
“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.
“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?” 
The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official. 
You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment. 
It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games. 
Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”
Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time. 
Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either. 
“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”
Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”
“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics. 
You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.
“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side. 
“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised. 
The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you. 
“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”
The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.
The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over. 
You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.
“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”
“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you. 
A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.
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Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.
The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room. 
Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests. 
Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled. 
The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one. 
You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it. 
“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.” 
She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately. 
“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had. 
“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of. 
He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white. 
You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness. 
“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her. 
“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”
Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you. 
Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;
“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”
Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you. 
“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return. 
“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye. 
“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes. 
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”
He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go. 
“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath. 
“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”
He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.
The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you. 
He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.
Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass. 
He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course. 
As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate. 
Men did love a little attention, after all. 
Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.
You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.
“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.
As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”
“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down. 
“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar. 
“It is, I think.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere. 
When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”
You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”
“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”
“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.
“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”
“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.
“The theatre, then?”
Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”
“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”
“And you, Elliot.”
Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed. 
You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.
You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair. 
You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch. 
As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone. 
To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through. 
He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat. 
His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low. 
Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover. 
Until, Theo spoke up. 
“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.
“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.
“When?”
“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you. 
“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”
“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”
“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”
“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”
Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”
“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”
“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”
“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.
You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth. 
“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”
You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from. 
You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair. 
“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”
Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend. 
“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.
Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after. 
Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know. 
It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”
“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”
Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one. 
“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”
“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”
Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk. 
You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return. 
“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin. 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”
“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”
He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”
“That is up to your cousin.”
“Touché.”
You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing. 
He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night. 
As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”
“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”
“He’s not even here to listen!”
“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”
A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. 
“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered. 
Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”
“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”
It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you. 
“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment. 
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”
You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”
“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.” 
You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them. 
“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”
Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…” 
Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away. 
“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.
Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip. 
You’d spoken to Draco’s parents. 
They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment. 
It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”
“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”
“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.” 
Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”
The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”
Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps. 
It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”
“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”
His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…
“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”
His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.
“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”
He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”
“No?”
“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”
“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”
“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”
He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.
When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music. 
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye. 
“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”
“Why do you think I wore it?”
His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”
“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together. 
“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”
Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you. 
“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features. 
“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all. 
“‘We’?”
“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news. 
“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”
“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more. 
“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”
“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted. 
“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.
“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”
“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes. 
“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”
You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats. 
Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left. 
“Where are we going, Dray?” 
“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice. 
Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food. 
The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face. 
“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”
“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”
He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile. 
“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”
“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow. 
“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”
His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”
“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”
“You never gave me any other indication!” 
“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”
The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side. 
Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.
“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”
“Yes. I told her days ago.” 
“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”
As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”
“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”
“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”
“Blaise.”
“The bracelet?”
“Theo and the Notts.” 
At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”
“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”
“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, Dray.” 
He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”
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miraclecracksoft · 1 year
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hazelfoureyes · 3 months
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The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)
I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.
It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.
⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣
tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time
tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b
When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.
It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆
Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!
I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.
The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.
Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.
And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.
“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.
“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”
“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.
Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”
“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”
Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”
Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.
Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”
“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.
“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”
Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”
Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”
Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.
What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.
“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.
“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”
He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.
"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.
“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."
Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”
“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”
He sighed, “I’m not.”
Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”
He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”
“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.
Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.
With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.
With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.
His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.
His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”
This is ridiculous.
Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.
Nothing.
"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.
He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.
He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.
Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.
After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.
So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.
It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.
Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.
In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.
But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.
Still.
He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.
He held his breath, unconsciously.
With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.
"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."
Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.
Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.
"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.
"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.
But today, they were soft and out of focus.
"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.
"Am I dreaming?"
He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."
"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"
Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.
Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.
"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."
He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"
You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.
"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.
A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.
“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.
“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.
You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”
His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.
"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.
"When was your last time, mon cher?"
Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."
"You're in hell now."
"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.
"Look at me."
Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.
With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.
Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.
He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?
Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.
He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."
Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.
He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.
A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.
"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.
He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.
No.
Not enough.
Too soon.
A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.
He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.
When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.
Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.
He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.
"My doe?"
Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"
"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."
The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.
"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.
Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"
Suddenly, silence.
The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"
"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.
"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.
"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"
Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.
"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"
"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."
"Yet..." She cocked her brow.
"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."
Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"
"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.
She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"
His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."
He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.
But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?
"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."
Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.
For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.
To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.
He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.
Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.
The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.
One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.
You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.
And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.
Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.
He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.
When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”
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vanteguccir · 21 days
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Anxiety On Tour | Matt Sturniolo
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Matt Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Y/N is just another fan at one of the Let's Trip Tour shows, until it comes time for the Meet&Greet. Things get out of hand for Matt, and she ends up being the only one who manages to calm him down.
Warning: Panick attack, anxiety.
Requested?: Yes, by @patscorner
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
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The stage was illuminated by a myriad of lights, as the bustling crowd eagerly pressed near the front. Y/N could feel the electricity in the air as the beats of upbeat music keep echoing throughout the venue from the big speakers. It was the beginning of the much-awaited Sturniolo Triplets show from the Let's Trip Tour.
She couldn't believe she was finally there, in the middle of the action, about to witness the boys she'd followed through a screen for years, finally face to face. With her heart pounding in her chest, Y/N let herself be carried away by the infectious energy of the crowd as she got closer and closer to the stage.
The music reached a crescendo, and then, suddenly, they appeared. Matt, Nick, and Chris entered the stage, radiating a magnetic presence that immediately captured everyone's attention. Y/N held her breath as her eyes found Matt, the boy she had never seen in person, but with whom she had a huge crush for months, in the flesh right in front of her. He looked even more stunning out of screen, with his messy hair and shy smile.
As the greetings sentences were let out by the three's microphones, Y/N felt a wave of emotion course through her body. It was as if every cell within her was vibrating in tune with them, with the pulsing energy of everyone around her.
As the show progressed, Y/N couldn't take her eyes off Matt. Every laugh, every saying, seemed to hypnotize her even more. She wondered if he could feel her gaze on him or if that was just her desire playing with her mind.
When it was time for a break between games, Matt grabbed the microphone and began speaking to the audience. His voice was soft and engaging, making everyone around him feel like they were having an intimate conversation with him. Y/N held her breath, hanging on every word he said.
As Matt interacted with everyone, his eyes swept across the crowd and, for a brief moment, seemed to meet Y/N's. She felt her face blush intensely, and a shy smile formed on her lips before she looked away, embarrassed, holding back the immense urge to scream at having been seen by him.
As the show continued, Y/N found herself caught up in a rollercoaster of emotions. The pulsating energy of the music, the interactions, the magnetic presence of the triplets, and, most of all, Matt's closeness left her ecstatic. Every moment was like a dream come true, and she refused to blink for fear of missing even a second.
When the stage lights finally went out and the final words were given, Y/N felt a mixture of ecstasy and melancholy by the feeling of the long-awaited moment coming to an end, but little did she know that the night was just beginning.
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Y/N waited anxiously in line for the meet and greet. Her heart was beating so hard that it felt like it was about to jump out of her chest while her right leg bounced up and down in anxiety. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, but at the same time, she wanted the moment to last forever.
As she watched the fans in front of her greet the triplets with beaming smiles, Y/N wondered what it would be like to be so close to them. She could barely contain her excitement as she approached the door that led to the meet and greet room where traps played loudly from the speakers, and colorful lights painted the walls.
Finally, her turn has come. Her stomach fluttered nervously as she entered the room, and her eyes instantly locked on Matt, who was there, so close and so real.
The three were side by side, Nick had a relaxed posture as he placed aside a teddy bear that he had probably received from the previous fan, while Chris glanced at Matt, seeming to watch him closely.
Matt was feeling fine until seconds before, but something inside him started to stir. His heart beating faster, his breathing became irregular, and a feeling of panic came over him.
So, when Y/N walked over to greet Matt with a hug, she noticed something was different, off. His arms were shaking, and his eyes looked a little lost, as if he were fighting some internal battle. Now up close, she could also notice how rigid his posture was and how his hands were clenched into a firm fist.
Y/N felt a wave of worry run through her own body, struggling internally over what to do, but ended up deciding not to expose Matt's situation in front of anyone, remaining silent. Instead, she smiled warmly and tried to keep the conversation light, hoping not to bother him with intrusive questions.
"Hi, Matt." The girl greeted softly, trying to ignore the nervousness that came over her body. "It's amazing to finally meet you in person. How are you?"
Matt lifted his head towards her for the first time, appearing to have only noticed her presence at that moment, trying to open a smile like hers, but his lips were trembling to the point where it came weaker than he wanted to.
Y/N could see the tension in his blue eyes as he tried to hide his discomfort, wondering what had happened to make him react in such a way so suddenly. Meanwhile, Matt tried to convince himself that it was nothing and that it would soon pass.
But it didn't pass. Instead, the feeling of panic grew, enveloping him like a dense fog. He felt like he was suffocating, like the world was crumbling around him, while his mind convinced him that he was alone.
As Y/N moved to greet Chris and Nick individually, keeping a brief and quick conversation - following the pattern imposed by the team that observed them -, she noticed how Matt seemed increasingly agitated, her own mind racing in an eagerness to help him, but the fear of reaction from the public, the team and even the triplets themselves held her back.
Until the picture moment. Y/N felt her heart sink as she felt Matt's breathing become more rapid and shallow as they prepared to take the group photo. She knew she couldn't just stand by and watch as he fought the monsters of his own mind.
With a lump in her throat and trembling hands, Y/N removed her left arm from around Chris, muttering a quick apology before turning to Matt, blocking the view of the line of people behind them, creating a small haven of privacy amidst the chaos of the room. The girl lifted her head slightly, searching his eyes with her own, desperately looking for any sign of life inside the blue orbs.
"Matt, hey." She began, her voice soft and comforting, acting as a balm to his troubled soul. "Are you okay?"
Matt's eyes widened in panic as he realized that the disturbances in his mind became visible enough to be seen by someone else. He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look at his brothers or the fans behind the girl in front of him, the fear of receiving disappointed or judgmental looks growing in his chest.
He limited himself to just shaking his head, unable to utter a word. His eyes were unfocused and lost, and his nails pierced the palm of his hands - probably drawing blood - with the force he was squeezing the area, trying to maintain control of the uncontrollable emotions.
Y/N could see the terror on his face, and her heart ached for him.
She turned her head slightly and passed her eyes briefly over Nick and Chris, noticing how the two now had a rigid posture, ready to make a move as soon as necessary. Chris's eyes carried great uncertainty, as if he was afraid of leaving Matt in the care of a stranger, but Nick's hand, which held his biceps surreptitiously, prevented him from acting on impulse.
Y/N turned her attention back to Matt, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth in a thoughtful act before sighing softly.
"Can I hug you?" Her voice came out in a whisper as low as the music that surrounded them, but loud enough for him to hear it, and she was sure of it when she received a small nod in response.
Without hesitation, the girl enveloped him in a warm hug, holding him tightly against her chest as he trembled. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he struggled to control his breathing and calm his nerves. Y/N pressed her fingers into strategic points on his back, touching the hard knots with every inch of skin, lightly massaging the covered area.
"Everything is okay." Y/N whispered softly, snaking her right hand up his shoulder to the back of his head, interlacing her fingers in Matt's messy curls, stroking them carefully while guiding him to lay his head on her right shoulder. "You're safe here. No one is gonna hurt you. Just breathe with me, okay? Follow my breathing."
Y/N began to breathe slowly and deeply, the warm air hitting Matt's ear, helping him to follow her rhythm. A disguised smile grew on her face as she felt the boy's back rise and fall in an uneven rhythm below her left hand, knowing he was trying as hard as he could in that moment.
Little by little, she felt the tension in his body ease, his tremors becoming less intense as he finally reacted, clinging to her for comfort. His large but so fragile hands at that moment held her arm tightly, searching desperately for support and balance.
For a few precious moments, Y/N and Matt remained like that, joined in a comforting embrace, and lost in their own world of calm and safety. The sounds of Chris' agitated voice shouting for water to one part of the team and Nick's voice demanding the other part to remove the fans that were still there were all muffled against both of their ears, just the unison rhythm of their breathing and the beats of their connected hearts echoing around their bodies.
When Matt finally pulled away, his eyes quickly met Y/N's, overflowing with gratitude and fascination, feeling flattered to have had the opportunity to meet a girl so empathetic to the point of helping him without a second thought.
His mind searched for words to thank her, but to Y/N, he didn't need to say anything; his eyes said it all.
"How can I-" Matt began, clearing his throat briefly as he heard his own voice come out hoarse and worn out by the whirlwind of emotions that he went through in a short space of time. "How can I thank you? Repay you for what you did for me..."
Y/N shook her head, interrupting his sentence, her own smile widening and brightening her features as her eyes remained fixed on the blue ones, who now seemed to be taking their own time to carefully analyze her expressions, seeming mesmerized.
Matt's warm hands suddenly felt heavier against the exposed skin of her arm, a shiver running down her spine as she noticed how close they were physically, the boy's scent filling her nostrils with an inescapable force, leaving her dizzy and lost.
"I think you owe me a picture."
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A/N²: I hated it, so I'm so sorry if it sucked badly ;(
My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡
And remember to treat people with kindness always!
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(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)
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princessbrunette · 29 days
Note
thinking about calling pogue!rafe over because your hot water isn’t working and he’s acting all annoyed but he’s lowkey kicking his feet at the fact that he gets to be in your home. maybe even asking him to stay after your shower so you can cook him something as a reward and play house for a bit 🩷🩷🩷
ೀ 🐰 ‧ ˚ 🪽 ⊹˚. ♡
my favourite thing about pogue!rafe is that he acts soooo inconvenienced by your presence. he hates kooks, think they’re so stuck up — so he can’t help but feel to push you away. always referring to you as a ‘stuck up little girl’ whilst he’s only a couple of years older than you. he’d done some work on the house before, and whilst your parents are away you literally don’t know who to call to fix your hot water problem so you try him, pacing around your room.
at first during your call, he tells you he’s got a shit tonne of work to be doing on other houses and doesn’t have time to drop everything for a kook princess. he can practically see your little pout through the phone, but keeps up his attitude until you thank him for his time anyway, sadly throwing out a little “no, i understand it’s okay. i’ll probably just hit up that jj maybank. i heard he’s pretty handy.” and suddenly he’s changed his tune, physically sitting up from his slouched position to be all “shit, okay fine… fine. i’ll be there in twenty minutes just — just don’t call anyone else a’ight?”
he’s sulking when he turns up with his tool box and that muscle tank and shorts with paint and dirt on them — unable to stop sucking on your bottom lip because he’s just so big and strong. he’s ignoring your lustful gaze with everything in him as he walks through to your bathroom. “lets just get this out the way, yeah?” he drawls as he gets to work.
you sit on the sink and swing your legs, not leaving him alone as he works simply chatting his ear off, seemingly unphased by his blunt replies, finding creative ways to shut you down like reminding you “yeah, uh you’re my little sisters age.” however you seemed totally unscathed, only working harder to prove you’re grown enough to take him.
“should be workin’ fine now so uh… just wire me the money n’we’ll be good. doin’ overtime right now so i kinda just wanna go home.” he waves you off and you step infront of him.
“you’re finished working?”
“di’nt i just say that kid?” he drawls and you grin, dragging him to your lounge.
“perfect! look i really wanna thank you specially for bein’ so helpful to me even though it’s clear you don’t want to. let me cook you dinner. please? i got beer and uh… i’ll make it really good. oh please rafe, my parents are away and i’m all alone.”
he sighs like it tortures his whole being, but he couldn’t deny that your house was super nice — nicer to hang out in than his shitty little fishing shack that he calls a home. he’d heard the cops had been sniffing around for him wanting to talk about a little ‘altercation’ he recently wound up in and didn’t have the energy to deal with that. no one would suspect him in the kook princess headquarters.
he cracks open a beer and lounges on your couch watching tv as you prepare the food for him before sticking everything in the oven and heading upstairs to shower. he doesn’t notice your presence disappear until you’ve returned in the tiniest little night gown and damp hair, leading him to the dining room where you serve up his food.
“some real housewife shit, huh?” he can’t hold back his smile as you seat him infront of a hearty meal. you feel all warm at the implication, shrugging modestly.
it’s inevitable that you wind up in his lap after he’s eaten, having sat with him and flirted — leaning over the table with your tits practically spilling out. you can’t quite recall how you got there, in between telling him you had nothing on under the nightgown and him telling you that it wasn’t his fault that men had primal instincts or some shit like that — but soon he was pulling your dress up to your waist and stuffing himself inside you, roughly fucking up into you.
“oww, rafey!” you whine at how rough he’s being with you, not used to being treated like anything but a princess. he can tell it’s an act though, and you truly do love it from the way your walls contract around him.
“nah, nah you knew what you were doin’ inviting me here. what were — were you just sittin’ around with a fuckin’ wet pussy waitin’ on your moment to invite me round n’let you fuck on me? huh? that was this is?” he bucks his hips, holding onto you to completely take control from below, bashing you against the table with each thrust that was certain to leave bruises.
you whimper, pressing your body to his trying to win over some affection as you sniffle. “just got such a crush on you, rafe.” you mewl and he scoffs, taking that moment to pick you up in his lap and place you on the dining room table instead, gaining more control so he could keep rutting into you.
“sick’a you little kook girls tryn’a — tryn’a use me like im some little experiment that you can toss to the side afterwards.” he complains, gripping your hips and practically using you like a toy. if he wasn’t holding you up, you’d be completely limp.
“dont want you with other girls! not — not gonna get rid of you i just want you.” you defend, and finally he slows his punishing pace to catch his breath, staring down at you analytically with parted lips, dick twitching inside you at the confession.
“that right?” he deadpans and you nod, teary eyed. “that why you let me in this princess cunt raw? huh? no protection or nothin’? just… just hoping i pull out? ha…” he chuckles maliciously, starting to push in deeper once more, upping his pace just a tad. “yeah… yeah maybe i should nut right in here—” he caresses your lower tummy making you whimper, completely at his mercy with your legs split. “knock up some kook pussy. won’t just be a phase then will i? nah baby… nah you’d be stuck with me for life.”
he’s got a sick smile on his face, but what he’s not expecting is for you to grip the back of his neck, your bottom lip wobbling with a serious look in your eyes. “do it.” you command and his face drops a little, realising that maybe he was dealing with a girl that had it bad for him. that, or you’re trying to get some sort of revenge on your parents. either option made his dick throb.
ೀ 🐰 ‧ ˚ 🪽 ⊹˚. ♡
471 notes · View notes
hutchinsonjyjkrag · 2 years
Text
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allredvzicunningham · 2 years
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lentzyxrdouglas · 2 years
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hackettyawparrott · 2 years
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pitchsidestories · 2 months
Text
Just a little crush II Kim Little x Beattie!Reader
Tumblr media
masterlist I word count: 3192
a/n: sorry, It's a lengthy one, but we hope you still enjoy it. ❤️
“Lee, who’s that girl talking to Jen?”, Kim Little asked Arsenal’s vice-captain while licking her lips nervously. They and some other family and friends gathered for a party to send Jen Beattie off who was going to California to join Bay FC.
There was something about that young woman standing next to her friend which was making her feel and think things the midfielder never did before, but she didn’t want to dwell on them any further as it would lead to much more questions and less clear answers.
Amused Leah Williamson raised her eyebrows:” Oh Kimmy, you don’t recognize her? It’s Jennis baby sister, she’s fresh out of Edinburgh University!”
“That’s not Jen’s sister! She looked so much younger last time.”, the Scottish woman shook her head in disbelief.
Still smiling the England captain replied: “Yes, it’s, she’s 25 now.”
“Oh wow.”, Kim muttered.
Noisily Beth Mead took part in their conversation:” Who are you two gossiping about? I want to know.”
“Jens little sis.”, Leah answered with a smug smile on her face.
“She turned into a real beauty, right?”, the blonde forward winked watching Kim turning red.
Much to her dismay the defender noticed it:” think our captain would agree with you.”
“Stop it.. I’m not.”, Kim explained slightly embarrassed.
“Having a little crush?”, Beth teased her teammate grinning.
Tuning in Steph Catley chirmed:” Oh Kim, that’s so cute.”
“I don’t have a crush.”, their captain disagreed. She felt relived when Jen came along distracting from the gossiping football players.
“Hi guys, remember my little sister?”, the tall Scottish defender asked.
Cheerful you greeted them:” Hi, everyone.”
“Hello great to see you again. Even though the reason is kind of sad.”, Beth responded with a sad smile.
Empathetically you nodded:” No, I agree but shamefully can’t wait to visit her soon in Cali.”
“You all act like I’m disappearing forever.”, your big sister laughed. Even though you knew the farewell felt equally as bittersweet to her.
Quickly Lia Wälti hugged her: “We can’t help how we’re feeling, Jen. It’s a big loss for us and a big win for Bay FC.”
“You girls are the sweetest.”, Jen whispered, she was so grateful for the friendships she made during her time at Arsenal.
Big eyed Steph Catley responded:” I’ll miss my favourite neighbour.”
“I’ll miss living next to you too, Steph.”, the defender answered truthfully.
This was the moment you found the time to talk to Kim directly to express your gratitude towards her:” Thanks for letting me stay at your place for a few weeks, Kim.”
“You’re welcome. Now that your sister can’t let you stay anymore.”, the older woman waved it off.
“I really appreciate it.”
With a small smile the midfielder told you in a reassuring tone:” You can stay as long as you want. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sure you’ll have a great time together.”, Jen intervened confidently.
You gave your sister a nod: “I’m sure we’ll.“
As the evening progressed, the atmosphere became more and more relaxed. You felt right at home with your sisters teammates who happily shared stories about Jen with and made sure your glass was never empty.
It was only after midnight that Kim appeared right in front of you, reaching out a hand towards you: “Come, I’ll get you home.“
“Now?“, you asked, surprised by how drunk you sounded already.
Kim just raised an eyebrow but did not comment on it: “Yes, it’s late.“
“Bye, Jen!“, you shouted across the room to your sister while Kim helped you into your coat.
With one swift motion, Jen came over and pulled you into a tight hug: “Bye, you two.“
Luckily, the way home in Kims car was short. You were by sleep and found it difficult to keep your eyes open. Once Kim led you into the guest room of her apartment, you let yourself fall onto the bed with a relieved sigh. Kims dog curled into a ball at your feet.
“This is really cozy.“, you mumbled, burying your face into the soft pillows.
Kim watched you from the doorway: “Glad you feel at home here.“
“Good night, Kim.“
The corners of her mouth quirked up as she closed the door behind her and you fell into a dreamless sleep.
You woke up early the next morning and decided to make coffee for yourself and Kim. The coffee was just done brewing as Kim came back from walking her dog. Beaming, you handed her a mug: “Morning, this one is for you.“
She gave you a surprised look first but then took the coffee from you: “Oh. Thank you.“
“You’re welcome. Also I hope I didn’t say anything weird when we went home last night.“, you said as you sat down at the kitchen table together. You took a sip of coffee to hide your reddening cheeks behind the cup.
“No. Like what?“, Kim asked inquiringly.
You decidedly ignored her question and only reacted to the first part: “Oh good.“
“You almost immediately fell asleep.“, she explained plainly.
Changing the topic, you suggested: “Do you like Pizza? When I’m done with my interview, I could get some on the way back.“
Finally, a small smile appeared on the football players face: “Sure, why not?“
“Okay, great.“
With a glance toward the kitchen clock, Kim announced: “I have to leave for training now. So, see you later?“
“Yes, see you.“, you smiled at her.
Just before Kim walked out, she paused for a moment: “Oh, wait.“
“Uhm, yes?“, you patiently looked at her as she walked back into the kitchen.
“I forgot to give you the keys.“, she said, carefully tossing them in you direction.
You caught them with a grin: “Right. Thank you, Kim.“
“See you later. Good luck with your interview.”, Kim replied.
You were almost at the door when you turned around to face her beaming with hopefulness: “Thanks. Have fun in training!”
During training Kim warmed up with Cloé Lacasse. The Canadian striker asked her curiously:” So you got yourself a roommate, Kim?”
“I was more or less assigned a roommate, Cloé. She was supposed to stay with Jen, but she decided to leave us.”, the Arsenal captain explained with a deep sigh.
With a mischievous smile on her lips Leah came to a stop right next to the older women: “The most important part is though that Kim has a Girl crush on said roommate.”
Annoyed by her comment Kim rolled her eyes at the defender:” I don’t have a girl crush, Leah.”
“Kim is straight too.”, the Canadian forward added.
“Right.”, the Scottish midfielder nodded. Although deep inside of her something didn’t sit right with it although it has been true for so many years at this point. Why did your presence make her question things she thought she knew about herself.
This didn’t impress Leah in the least: “You should have been there Cloé when they met at Jens Farewell Party.”
“Well, I can’t wait to hopefully meet her soon.”, Cloé answered politely.
Frustrated Kim intervened:” You guys are making a way too big deal out of it.”
“If you need to chat though we’re here for you, Kim.”, Beth offered warmly.
Stubbornly the Scottish woman shook her head: “I don’t need to chat. She’s just staring at my place.”
“Alright, just saying.”, the England forward mumbled.
“It’s not a big deal.”, her captain repeated in a serious tone which made obvious that she was done with talking for now.
Reading the signs Leah decided:” Let’s get back to training.”
Finally, Kim thought relieved as they started to move again, distracting from the whirlwind, which was currently inside of her, giving her a peace of mind for the moment.
In the early evening you returned to Kim’s place announcing cheerfully:” Hi, I got the pizza.”
“Thanks. How did your interview go?”, she wanted to know from you.
As you were setting up the table for dinner, you told her about it:” Not too bad, actually. They said my writing is promising but they asked me if I really want to stay focused on women’s football.”
Interested the Scottish woman looked up to you:” What did you say to them?”
“That I don’t want to change my focus, I love writing about women’s football and the culture surrounding it.”, you responded.
Proudly Kim remarked:” Your sister would have done the same in your position.”
“She would’ve, right?”, you asked her cautiously.
Kim nodded once with conviction: “Absolutely.“
“There’s still such a long way to go… although the recent success helped a bit.“, you thought out loud, a sad smile tugging on your lips.
“You don’t have to tell me.“, Kim replied with her gaze trained on the kitchen table.
You could sense that the football player felt a similar way about the topic. Your curiosity was piqued so you continued: “For you and Jen it must have been an amazing progress to live through.“
“Yes. We’re lucky to be part of this generation. Selling out stadiums is something that a few years ago we thought was impossible.“, she explained calmly.
You were reminded of your sisters first football games. She was not getting paid to play yet and the number of fans was ridiculously low compared to this season. You bit your lip: “Yes, I remember that too.“
“I appreciate that you want to keep focusing on womens football.“
Hearing her say that made your heart flutter for a brief moment. But you were also reminded how quickly the atmosphere had changed. You sighed and with all the enthusiasm you could muster, said: “We should eat the pizzas now before they get too cold.“
“You’re right.“
As you both sat down, taking the first slices of the pizza, you admitted: “But I do love talking about football with you.“
“We can continue at another time if you want.“, Kim suggested a little more relaxed.
“Yes, I’d like that very much.“
“Me too.“
“Great.“
Kim put her slice of pizza down and looked at you thoughtfully: “We’re playing at home on the weekend. You should come watch.“
“Yes, I’ll be there.“, you politely smiled back at her.
Kims focus had already shifted back to her pizza: “Great.“
 The stadium was starting to fill on the following Sunday while players walked out to warm up. You were engrossed in a conversation with your friend Emily who after a long time of convincing had finally agreed to come to the game with you. You completely missed that Cloe Lacasse walked out on the pitch with Kim and curiously nodded in your direction: “So that’s her?“
“Yes, that’s her.“, Kim replied, a frown on her face as she spotted you close to the field.
“Is that her girlfriend? The one who’s standing next to her?“, the Canadian wanted to know.
Kim shrugged and shook her head: “She didn’t say anything about a girlfriend.“
Still, her gaze lingered on the two of you for a little longer.
The game ended with an easy win for Arsenal. Apart from the goals of Cloe and Alessia Russo, Kim also converted a penalty. The atmosphere in the stadium after the game was great and you immediately felt at home. However, the mood between the players on the pitch was less elated.
Leah Williamson bumped her captain with her shoulder: “Kim? You’re even quieter than usual.“
“What? I’m just focused.“, the midfielder replied, pulling away from her teammate.
The younger player couldn’t ask any further as you hugged the Scottish woman and sung:” Kim, you had a fantastic game, Kim!” Seeing the England captain you added blushing:”Hi Lee.”
Smiling Leah couldn’t help but to notice the height difference between you two, you were almost as tall as Jen while your roommate was fairly small: “Our skipper was great, right?”
“Yes, she definitely was.”, with that said you let Kim down.
Much to your surprise she didn’t look happy despite the comfortable win:”Thanks.”
The midfielder didn’t say anything further instead she left the room and left you clueless. Puzzled you turned around to look at her teammate: “Well, that was a bit strange do you know what’s going on, Leah?”
“I think she’s a bit jealous.”, the blonde replied seriously.
Baffled by that you let out a shaky laugh:” Jealous? Kim?”
Leah grinned: “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because you brought your girlfriend.”, the defender replied, crossing her arms in front of her.
“My girlfriend? Emily is just a friend!”, you corrected her, shaking your head in disbelief.
Sceptical Leah rose an eyebrow at you:” Oh, is she?”
“Yes, wait, did Kim think that Em was my girlfriend?”, you questioned her.
Thoughtfully Leah responded:” Maybe.”
“I need to talk to her.”, you decided.
With an empathetic smile on her lips the blonde held you back: “Maybe not now.”
You listened to her advice, so you went back to Emily and brought her home before making your way slowly to Kim’s home. In your mind it already was yours too.
On her car ride home Jen phone called the Arsenal captain:” Hi mate, great game!”
“Thanks, Jen. How’s California?”, Kim asked her.
“It’s been really great so far., the defender sounded happily before turning more serious, but you texted that you needed to talk?”
Earnestly Kim told her: “Yes. About your sister. Did you know that she’s dating someone?”
“What? No, she’s single.”, she mumbled convinced.
“What do you mean? She brought someone to our game today?”, the midfielder frowned.
Quickly Jen explained: “Yes Emily, she’s just a friend of her, Kimmy.”
“Are you sure? They seemed close?”, Kim almost felt something like relief by her former teammates reply. Although she didn’t dare to trust the news yet.
“Kim, I’m sure of that besides Emily has a boyfriend.”, Jen chuckled.
“If you say so.”
“But you can ask my sister again. Kim are you jealous?”, the defender wanted to know from her friend.
Offended Kim scoffed at her:” Why would I be jealous? I was just wondering why she’d stay with me when she’s got a girlfriend here.”
“Now you know. I need to go to training, hope to hear from you soon, mate?” After a few goodbyes they ended the phone call and the Arsenal captain tried to focus on the drive instead of the turmoil which was inside her.
When the door closed behind Kim, you looked up from the food you were cooking. While the Arsenal players showered and debriefed at the stadium, you had hurried to get home and surprise your housemate with a freshly cooked dinner. “Kim? Hi, I started cooking…“, you greeted her.
The football player raised her eyebrows in surprise: “You’re already here?“
You nodded: “Yes, Emily had to go back to her boyfriend who has a bit of a cold. Otherwise we might have gone to a pub. Do you want a drink to celebrate the win?“
“No, thanks. I usually don’t drink after games.“, Kim answered plainly, putting her bag down next to the kitchen table.
You grimaced: “Oh, right. Sorry. So water?“
“Sure. What are you cooking?“, Kim asked, looking over your shoulder at the food while you poured two glasses of water.
You smiled while handing her one of the glasses: “Some pasta dish. It’s one of the few things I can cook.“
The football player nodded impressed and smirked slightly: “That’s more than your sister can cook.“
“That’s true.“
You both sat down to enjoy your home-cooked meal, talking about the game again even though Kim kept her answers short. You took the empty plates and set them down at the sink: “I guess I’ll let you sleep now.“
“You don’t have to. I can’t sleep yet anyway.“, Kim replied to your surprise.
You slowly turned back to her, biting down a nervous smile: “Okay but you know you can just ask me on a date instead of running away and sulking after the match, right?“
Her eyes widened in shock: “Wait, what are you talking about?“
“Leah said you were jealous because of Emily and you really don’t need to be.“, you shrugged, trying to keep the nonchalance in your voice.
“I wasn’t jealous.“, she protested.
You looked back at the dishes in the sink, waiting: “Good.“
“That’s ridiculous.“
“Kim…“, you started but when you looked back to her, she had already bridged the gap between you two and pressed her lips to yours. You gasped into the kiss: “What?“
“That was a mistake. I’m sorry.“, she sighed, shaking her head in a mix of confusion and guilt.
She wanted to turn away from you but you grabbed her wrist: “No, please, do it again.“
There was an urgency in your voice that made Kim search for your eyes: “Are you sure?“
“Yes.“
“But… okay.“
She kissed you again, more patiently now. This time you could savour the taste of her lips on yours and only then you realized that she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach you. You were so charmed by this that you could not stop yourself from smiling.
As you both pulled away, you could see an uncertainty in Kims eyes. It was definitely not the kiss, you could feel that you both enjoyed it. Another thougth raced through your head: “Am I your first woman? Don’t worry, we have time. When is your next free day? Maybe we could go to a restaurant.“
“I have tomorrow off.”, she told you straight away.
A relieved sigh escaped your mouth:” Perfect, with a smirk you continued, also, you’re not a bad kisser, captain.”
“I never said I was.”, Kim laughed, you could tell some weight fell off her shoulders.
“No just saying.”, you shrugged.
The midfielder put a loose string of hair behind her ear:” Thanks.”
A month later Kim and you had a video call with your sister. The first thing you told her was that you two became a couple. “You two are dating?! You better take good care of her little sis!”, Jen warned you in a jokingly tone.
“What?! Me?!”, you huffed.
Grinning the defender nodded: “Yes, you heard me.”
“Wow.”, you ran a free hand through your hair.
Meanwhile your girlfriend seemed to have ignored that part of the conversation as she reassured Jen:” Don’t worry, I’m taking good care of your sister.”
“I can already see that.”, your big sister observed amused.
“Jen, you’re a terrible big sister.”, you teased her.
“I’m the best big sister.”, she countered quickly.
“Sure.”, you rolled your eyes at her.
“Stop it you two.”, Kim demanded in her captain voice.
Smiling Jen answered:” No, get used to it, Kimmy. You’re part of the Beattie family now.”  
“Oh yes.”, you added, while giving the midfielder a kiss on her blushing cheek.
Coming to London to move in with one of your sister’s oldest friends was one of the best things that could had happen to you.
As for Kim she never knew she could fall for a woman until you came into her life, but the midfielder was very happy to have let her change her mind about that. Turned out you were more than just a little crush.
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flowercrowngods · 3 months
Text
based on an idea i had about steve getting a bad migraine from the sudden bloodloss after kas feeds from him
post-canon, steddie don't like each other, hermit kas, depressed brain injury steve, kinda gloomy, anxiety & compulsions
Steve cuts the engine with a sigh, feeling heavy and alien, like a lone survivor in a ghost town. He’s not a lone survivor, and Hawkins isn’t technically a ghost town because there’s still enough of them here to build it back up or to watch it crumble and cave in on itself, front row seats to the fourth wave of destruction. 
Maybe the real ghost is Steve, actually, floating through his days just waiting for his brain to decide it’s had enough. Just waiting for the perpetual ringing in his ears to rise in pitch and frequency and for his skull to fucking crack open from the never ending waves of the never ending buzz.
Robin asks him about it a lot, notices how he will stop and listen to his body on every inhale that feels slightly wrong, or every movement that’s just a little too fast or just a little too sudden, the blood rushing into his head or out of it, the doctor’s words ringing in tune with the tinnitus: You watch that head of yours, young man, and do not hesitate to call emergency services when the headache won’t stop after a few hours, or when anything feels off, you hear me? 
The truth is, he barely heard him then. Blood was roaring in his ears, the tinnitus still quiet, but his hearing still dull from impact and screams and shock wave after shock wave of the world sewing itself back together. 
He sighs again, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel and trying to catch his breath. Taking stock of his head, the heartbeat he can only feel in his hands right now and nowhere near his temples, and the quiet little tap tap tap of his finger nails hitting the leather, wanting to make sure he can hear it. Wanting to make sure he doesn’t imagine the sound. 
Always fucking needing to make sure. 
Soon, he breathes a little steadier, convincing himself that getting out of the car won’t be the last thing he’ll ever do. It’s so stupid, too, that fear, all that anxiety living inside him just waiting to boil and spill over until he does something stupid just to spite it.
The cool breeze hits his face, working in tandem with his calming breaths to alleviate his obsessive thought spirals, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he does nothing but breathe for a minute there. 
He’s up. He’s standing. He can walk through the forest to the vamp’s hiding place, it’s fine. It’s fine. Although standing so suddenly makes him aware that he hasn’t eaten much today, too busy hating everything about this town and helping to rebuild it anyway. 
Forgetting to eat and drink is another thing that’s new to him. There’s quite a few things he forgets a lot, but those are the worst. Robin is always on his ass about that, but at some point he stopped telling her. It feels like he’s stopped telling her a lot of things. Maybe that’s something else that comes with severe brain injury, young man. 
He feels plenty guilty about it at least — but not enough to tell her about all the horrible things that are happening to him, or the horrible things he thinks are happening to him. The Upside Down is gone, Vecna is dead. These bad thoughts, they’re all him. But knowing that doesn’t fucking help.
Pushing away from the car and turning around to lock it, Steve decides to wallow in self pity no longer and to just get on with it. As much as he hates it. As much as part of him wants to just go home and claim that he forgot about that, too. 
It’s no secret that Steve never liked Eddie. The boy’s a hypocrite, he’s loud, he’s annoying, and he just likes to shame people as publicly as possible, spitting proclamations of conformity and sticking it to the Man while at the same time turning anarchy into despotism under the guise of rebellion — and he’s the dictator. 
Or, he was. And Steve never cared about him or his larger than life attitude that was worse than any of the smiles Steve ever wore to fit in in high school. Steve mostly ever just wanted Munson to shut up and eat his lunch, stop pretending he’s better than any of them just because he liked different things.
Although it wasn’t even about liking other things, it was only ever about disliking. And shaming and denouncing. Steve always wondered what kind of a miserable life that dude must have lived, shaping himself not from what he liked but from what he hated. Creating an identity that left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth because it was so fragile and contradictory and, frankly, so fucking annoying. 
Still, he’d never wished for Munson to get involved in all of this. He’d never wished for the man to die. And then to come back only to be turned into some kind of vampire, doomed to live an even worse existence than he did as a human, hidden away in some shabby cabin. 
Steve feels a little bad for him now. For Eddie. Or Kas, as the kids like to call him because he never reacts to his name anymore, more monster than human these days, although Dustin is sure they can domesticate him into becoming his old self again. 
“Like Dart, remember?”
“Dude, don’t compare our friend to your sick little creature.” That was Lucas, affronted and annoyed. Steve could relate, although… 
“You gotta admit, he’s kind of a sick little creature himself now.” 
“Steve!” they’d both yelled, and Steve just playfully shoved their heads back before going to grab a coke from the fridge.
And Kas, because vampires are apparently a thing even after the end of the world, needs blood to survive. The forests are void of animals most of the time, like nature has decided to give Hawkins an ultimatum before returning and the day hasn’t come yet. Maybe it’s something to do with electromagnetic fields, or maybe it was something else entirely leading them all to safety while Hawkins was turned into a war zone. Either way, there is nothing for him to feed here. 
Kas can’t just stalk around the woods at night and drink up a deer or two. Nor can he go rob the blood bank at the hospital, they’re running low as it is anyway. That left them all with only one option that Mike so disgustedly pointed out back then: Kas needs their blood. And Steve feels just bad enough for him to play along. 
So now he is out here playing blood bank for the monstrous version of a guy he never even liked, and his hometown is in shambles, and his head might actually sign the fuck off at any moment now, apparently. 
Things are going great. 
Saving the world is just… really fucking isolating. 
Still he has no choice but to announce his presence with a firm knock on the door, the pattern easy but memorable. 
“This is Steve,” he adds as his hand falls to his side, waiting. 
Kas always takes a while to come out and open the door, hiding away from any noise like a feral cat. Steve can kind of relate — he and Kas don’t have the best relationship either. He has no idea how sudden vampirism works, but just like feral cats will be able to tell when someone wants to hurt them and when instincts should be kicking in, Kas seems to realise how little Steve wants to be here and help him. How little he wants to have his blood sucked out of his body leaving his limbs to feel numb and uncomfortably tingly. 
Eventually, though, the door opens with a creek, just enough for a pair of eyes — too large, too wide, too wild — blink back at him. Steve just lifts his eyebrows, really kind of not in the mood to deal with this barely human vampire and his absolute lack of learning curve about this situation.
When he’s sure Kas has blinked at him for long enough now, he pushes open the door and shoves inside rather roughly, immediately feeling bad when he hears the slight whimper. 
“Sorry,” he mutters, stuffing his hands into his pockets again and trying not to grimace at the stale, disgusting air in the cabin. “Jeez, you really gotta open a window every once in a while. Thought vamps were supposed to have heightened senses or some shit.” 
Kas growls at him, mirroring Steve’s move and shoving past him this time, his shoulder slamming into Steve’s with painful strength. Glowering at the stupid vampire, he rubs at his shoulder before crossing his arms in front of his chest. 
“Listen, buddy, I can just leave and have you deal with your hunger, okay? No big deal for me, I even get to keep my blood.” 
Kas snaps at him, showing his fangs and crossing his arms, too; a laughable copy of Steve’s own stance. 
“Or you could just cut the crap and get on with it so I actually can leave again without taking shit from the peanut gallery. Your choice.” 
The huff that follows is so indignant, Steve wonders if that could be what gets Kas out of Munson’s body and let the human win over the monster. Maybe indignation and annoyance is what will break the spell eventually, lift the curse just enough for Munson to get back into his old habit of monologising and spouting nonsense out of that big mouth of his. 
Steve is half tempted to try, but he really does want to just go home and lie on his large couch with no sensory input whatsoever, tuning out the world and his anxieties that might be about to turn into compulsions just for him to gain a little control over everything again. So he squares his shoulders and takes off his jacket before tilting his head to the side, allowing Kas full access to his neck. 
It’s always a little scary but still oddly fascinating, filling him with that same rush that came with witnessing all the supernatural shit over the past few years. Kas is the last remnant of all that, and somehow, buried beneath piles of rubble and trauma and the teenager he had to give up on being, Steve feels weirdly protective of that. 
Not of Eddie. Of Kas. Of the monster that lies dormant. Of the last bit of danger in his life, because he doesn’t know how to live without it anymore — so much so that he has to make it up.
Maybe it’s a symptom of his self destructive tendencies, as Robin would call it. But Steve might be as fascinated with the vampire as Robin is with fire; so she doesn’t get to have a say in this.
There is always a strange intimacy in the way Kas approaches him. Slowly, carefully. Like a hunter his prey. Steve doesn’t feel like prey, not really, but a part of him wants to. A part of him needs to be prey again, if only for those instincts that manifest with a perpetual tremor and a restless feeling in his chest to be of use again. If only so he can have a point again. Something to fight that’s outside oh his own head. 
Now, his point is standing still entirely and feeling those chapped but warm lips trail up and down his throat a little before Kas finds the right spot that won’t really hurt Steve, the right spot that will make it all go by quickly and without any hiccups. 
Still he shivers, like always, and Kas holds him close when he finally bites down. Like always. 
He stands motionless as he feels his blood flow alternating, rushing in his ears and his head, his heart thump-thump-thumping, putting up a fight against the strange intrusion. He hardly even breathes at all, focusing instead on his body and burying his finger nails in his palm for five seconds before releasing his hands and repeating the process three times before he gets it right. 
But then his head is pulsing, his heartbeat slowing down as his vision briefly blacks out in the same way it does when he gets up too quickly, and his heart falls. It’s too much. Too sudden. 
“Kas,” he says, but the vampire doesn’t hear him, drinking more and more of the blood that must be so thick with how little he’s had to drink today — something he only just remembered. “Kas,” he says again, more urgently this time; but still the vampire drinks. 
And where before Steve had a clear vision of the door in the dark room — the light of day streaming in through the cracks and framing it almost mystically —, it’s spotty now. Just slightly off. Like something is missing but his brain is working overtime to complete the picture anyway, reducing the blind spot to merely an illusion. But Steve knows what’s happening. He knows what the sudden pulsating of his head means, especially when it’s followed by his vision just going AWOL on him.
No, he thinks as the situation really settles in, and he begins to push Kas away. Not like it matters anyway now; the damage is done. No, no, no, no, fuck! 
He frantically shoves at the vampire now, blinking against the blind spot even though he’s painfully aware it won’t help. Kas breaks away from him, wiping his mouth and smearing his face and the back of his hand with Steve’s blood. If he looks just right, he can’t even fucking see it. 
Heart falling further, Steve buries his hands in his hair and pulls, hoping that by some kind of miracle he can just pull the migraine out of his head before it can really settle. It’s his only chance. He can’t drive like this, he shouldn’t walk like this, and soon he won’t be able to do anything at all. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” be hisses, hearing the edge of desperation in his own voice and caring very little about that right now. 
Kas is on him again in a second, and Steve waves him off, tries to shove him away but the vampire is stronger and persistent. 
A high keening sound builds in Kas’s chest, and Steve knows he doesn’t really speak, doesn’t really use his words, ever — maybe he doesn’t know how. But the keening sounds more like a whine, and the way he pulls at Steve to look at him is as much an indicator of worry as he’s going to get.
But Steve doesn’t want Kas’s hands on him, wants to just get out and away before the pain comes. So he takes another step back and holds up his hands, hoping that the vampire will just fucking take a hint. 
A little too quickly and a little too frantic, Steve shakes his head, his eyes flitting about the room to see if there’s still pieces of it missing or if phase two is about to start. He has about twenty minutes left before his body will be composed of nothing but skull-splitting pain that is only equal to someone ramming actual nails into his head — and even that would be preferable right noe, because at least that pain he wouldn’t need to explain. Or justify.
Another keening sound interrupts Steve's burgeoning spiral, and his eyes land on Kas, who really looks like a kicked puppy right now. 
"I gotta go," he says, voice a little unsteady with apprehension and panic, but just as he's about to rush out of the cabin, Kas crosses his path and won't let him move. 
A strong hand lands on his chest, and Steve really, really doesn't want to deal with that right now. He tries again, tries with more force to sidestep and push past him, but Kas won't let him budge. 
"Let me go." But Kas doesn't let up. "Kas. Please. You gotta let me go, I gotta get home, I—“ 
The first flash of white in his peripheral vision catches him off guard, moving his focus away from the clawed hand on his chest and toward the flickering line that cuts through the left side of his vision right now. 
Curious or worried or maybe just really fucking stupefied at having Steve act so weirdly, Kas inclines his head and ducks to catch Steve's eyes. 
"Move," Steve says again, as assertive as he can manage with his brain and body scattered between following the flickering lights that are invisible to everyone else and the pain that is about to consume him, leaving him incapacitated for several hours at least.
Instead of moving out of Steve's space and allowing him to leave, Kas shoves him backwards with that superhuman strength he has now, forcing Steve to stumble back helplessly. Fear rises in him again, and it's a different flavour this time that mixes horribly well with the anxiety and apprehension and all the waves and waves of blinding panic he feels out of nowhere almost all the time now. 
His knees buckle when they hit something rather violently, and then he's falling, landing on the worn couch with a breathless gasp, his instincts running wild. He needs to fight, he needs to run, he needs to get home and be safe and get the fuck away from this monster who won't let him go now. Steve doesn't know Kas as someone who will just take what he wants, but, well, he is Munson, in a way. So that tracks. 
But instead of attacking him, instead of going for his neck again and sucking the rest of his blood, instead of beating Steve to a pulp to keep him pliant and unmoving and turn him into some sort of personal livestock, Kas just... sits down next to him. Hands in his lap. Worried look trained on Steve, who needs to catch his breath and calm down.
"Hurt." 
It startles Steve. Kas has never spoken to him. But what’s more, Steve shouldn't be that obvious. He doesn't want to be that obvious, especially about hurting and being hurt. 
So he shakes his head, his hands coming up to press into his eyes, hoping to get rid of the flickering lights even though he knows that once they stop, the pain will come; and it will come badly. 
"'M not hurt," he says, lying through his teeth and the heel of his hand. "I just gotta go home." 
"Hurt," Kas says again, and it's more assertive this time, less of a question. Like he's telling Steve rather than asking. Like he's making him understand. 
He reminds Steve a little of Robin in that regard, and he almost has to smile. He would, too, if he wasn't so aware that it would become a horrible grimace, wavering and pale even by vampire hermit standards. 
So he sighs instead, letting his hands fall into his lap and wringing his fingers. There are about ten, maybe fifteen minutes left. Not enough to get anywhere safe on foot, and he sure as hell ain't driving when his vision is halfway through its rendition of a TV without signal, zig-zagging in white and red and green, flickering and flaring and leaving him a little disoriented even when all he's doing is sitting on that dusty old couch. 
"Hurt," Kas repeats for the third time, and Steve tenses, ready to snap at him to shut up, that he's not hurt yet but will be any minute now and that Kas should really just shut the fuck up and leave himself if he won't let Steve go anywhere. 
But looking at those wide eyes, he doesn't snap. He deflates. His shoulders fall and his eyes close, which only makes the flickers worse, he feels.
“I’m… I’m gonna have a migraine," he sighs, letting that hang in the air between them, letting the words take up the whole room and suffocate him while he knows that they won't touch Kas. That he won't understand. Nobody does. 
It's just a headache, Steve, get over it. 
They leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and he's just waiting for the huff to come. 
But it doesn't come. Instead, Kas just keeps looking at him; same worried expression, same unobtrusive posture, same everything. Right. He probably doesn't know jackshit about what that's supposed to mean. 
So Steve explains. “I, well. I kinda can't really see right now, but that'll pass. That's when the pain comes. I won't want to move. No light. No noise. No nothing. And all I can do about it is wait it out, which is why I need you to let me leave..." 
It's one of those moments where he hates that he's the only one of their group with a license; that he can't just radio with a code red and have someone come get him no questions asked. 
"I just wanna go home, man," he sighs, hating his voice for the weak whine around the edges. 
A beat passes between them, and Steve pretends like he's not counting the seconds. Like he doesn't notice that the flickering zigzag line is getting smaller and dimmer, and that agony is imminent. 
"Here," Kas says then, and somehow it's both an offer and a command. "You. Here."
Steve blinks, the words not really translating through the tired fog of his brain. 
"Huh? Sorry, uh, what?" 
"You," Kas says, shuffling closer to him, like that sort of helps him translate what it is he wants to say. 
"Me." 
Kas nods, then motions around the room and pats the couch cushion, releasing a cloud of dust from it. "Here."
“You—“ Steve frowns. "You want me to stay here?"
The nod is decisive and in another world Steve would have called it eager, with the way Kas is shuffling on the spot. 
"Kas," Steve sighs, rubbing his face, not quite sure how to make the vampire explain that it's gonna be bad. Really, really bad. The flickering shimmer is already waning, and phantom pains are already setting in, settling along his skull like little pinpricks of warning. 
A clawed hand reaches for his wrist, making Steve flinch away, but Kas doesn't hurt him. He pulls Steve’s hand away from his face almost gently, slowly, and makes sure Steve looks at him. 
"Safe." And he looks so genuine about it. He looks like he knows what that word means. "Safe." 
With a sigh, Steve accepts his fate. Kas isn't gonna let him go anytime soon, and at this point Steve really doesn't want to face the gloomy weather outside, stuck as it is somewhere between drizzle and downpour and so endlessly grey for days. 
Still he feels pathetic about it. Vulnerable. Exposed. Like a last bastion falling, the castle walls crumbling, the fragile house of cards finally falling, because suddenly this agony isn't something he keeps only to himself. 
Even if it's only Kas who witnesses it. Kas, who’s endured worse than that, Steve knows. Brainwashing, manipulation, the agony of shaping human into vampire so excruciating his mind has gone into hiding still. 
"Okay," Steve breathes at last, pretending that his voice didn't break on that single word. "Okay."
Kas hums, the sound resembling more a gurgle than anything else, and before Steve knows what's happening, cold hands are pulling him up and off the couch. 
"Jesus," he mumbles, barely catching his footing and pulling away from Kas's grasp, but following nonetheless, not even thinking about fleeing now. "I'm coming, I'm coming, man, don't touch me." 
Miraculously, Kas does stay away, walking just one step ahead of Steve, turning towards him every two steps to make sure he's still following. It reminds Steve of a mama duck herding her ducklings across the street and making sure they're all still there. It's weirdly endearing. 
"Why do you even care?" 
He doesn't get an answer, but that's no surprise, and he doesn't really mind either. It was more about wondering, about putting that question out there and letting it take up space for future contemplation. 
Kas leads him to an adjoining room, the north-facing windows all barred shut, ripped and moth-eaten curtains drawn to block out the last of the light. Right. Fitting, for a vampire's lair. 
The bed in the middle of the far wall is surprisingly large, though, and looks surprisingly soft. It's unmade, but that's just as well. There are no belongings in the room otherwis that Steve can make out, the framed pictures on the wall look as dusty as the rest of the cabin, so they can't belong to Kas. Or maybe he likes them enough to keep them, to claim them as his own now. 
It’s a heartbreaking thought. 
Stupidly and out of nowhere, Steve wonders if he could take care of this cabin. Dust it and clean it and only fill it with things Kas likes. Maybe things Munson used to like — surely the kids would know how to go about that. Or Wayne. 
He's about to ask; about the pictures, about the stuff, about Wayne — if he's been around lately, if he's still telling stories to bring back the dormant Eddie parts of his modified and manipulated mind.
But just as he's about to turn to the vampire and ask, the blinding flickers disappear from his field of vision in the dark room, and within seconds something inside his skull bursts, leaving his body awash with pain that nearly has his knees buckling. A whimper escapes him that he tries to steer into a groan, but then his hands are flying to his head and he stops caring about how he expresses this immediate agony to the world. 
Kas is on him again with a whimper, suddenly just as fucking tactile as his once-human form. 
“Don’t touch me,” Steve rasps, wrenching himself free from the gasp once more. He really wishes Kas would stop touching him. "You want me to lie down here, yeah? Take your bed?" 
Kas nods again, looking at Steve with those wide eyes that seem to glow in the dark — or maybe that's his migraine-addled mind seeing things where they aren't, making up for the blind spot and the flickering. 
Steve looks away, the motion hurting his entire face, and he closes his eyes as pins and needles are moving along the inside of his face, pricking up against the skin but never breaking through. 
"Right then," he whispers, his voice barely audible and still too loud, making his ears click and pressure collect around them, making him wonder if they're going to burst. "'M gonna lie down." 
Struggling with the heavy blanket, Steve is close to giving up and just lying on top of it, but Kas is quick to help him once he realises that Steve needs it. He pulls back the blanket, still looking so damn stricken about everything, like he's genuinely worried about Steve. It doesn't make sense. 
He doesn't have the strength for a Thanks or even a smile, but he nods just once, just barely, before sluggishly falling onto the bed and fumbling with the blanket once more. Every movement hurts. Every twitch of a muscle is too much, and just moving his pinkie is enough to douse his body in never-ending pain that travels from his skull all the way down.
Something Steve has always wondered is why migraines make his body shut down like that, leaving him in a state where all he can do is lie down and fall into a near-catatonic limbo until the pain has lifted enough to face the rest of the world again. Fighting inter-dimensional monsters and posing as a feast to demonic, modified monster bats was also agony. It also made him lose his footing and almost pass out from blood loss and pain, his back scratched open completely where the bats dragged him across rough stone. 
Migraine pains don't really compare to those, though, and it scares him. Because he knows that's all up in his brain. His fucked up, mangled, thrice-concussed fucking brain he never got cared for because the government goons never took them seriously. Never took him seriously. 
And now here he is, lying in a stranger's bed in a pitch-black room that's still somehow too bright, unmoving, too weak to even pull up the blanket, and hoping to pass out from it all. Hoping he won't hallucinate again this time. Hoping that he won't throw up this time, his body convulsing because it knows it shouldn't be feeling like this. 
Throwing up from pain. There's really nothing more fucked up than that. Or, there is. Throwing up from pain and begging an invisible man to make it stop, only to realise hours later that the most painful migraines can also make you hallucinate. 
He doesn't want that. He doesn't want any of that ever again, and certainly not in a strange, dark cabin with a vampire forged from a human he never even liked. 
Tears spring to his eyes, but they're not the kind that'll fall and bring relief. They just stay in the corners of his eyes, his only way to express the waves and flares of pain washing over him, wishing he could just pass out now. 
Kas tucks him in. Steve didn’t know he could do that. It strikes him as extremely non-vampiric even in this state he’s in. Steve doesn’t react, doesn’t so much as blink his eyes open as the pain travels up to his hairline and settles there, flaring over his forehead to his eyes and down to his cheekbones and then up again, a never-ending motion that he never stands a chance to get used to. 
“Safe,” Kas says again, and it zings through Steve’s body with violent force that doesn’t match at all with the gentle tone he’s using. 
Scrunching his forehead to stave off more words, Steve hopes that Kas will take the hint and know to shut up. 
But he has no such luck. 
“Here.” 
“Shhh.” He shakes his head minutely, shushing the vampire with a barely there noise, keeping the damage to a minimal amount. “You can go,” he slurs, trying not to speak at all. “Please.” 
A beat of blessed, blissful silence, before there’s shuffling again. Kas does walk to the door, but then stops in the doorway. Steve doesn’t want to look. 
“No.” Kas sounds surprised about it. Mystified. Like he wants to leave but can’t. 
What?
“Stay. Here.” 
Whatever you do, just please be quiet about it, Steve thinks desperately. Instead of saying any of that, he shushes him again, hoping that the thump he hears means that Kas is sitting on the floor now. Though he doesn’t understand why. 
Why do you even care? 
“Safe,” Kas says again, whispering the word into the room, and it doesn’t zing through Steve this time. 
With Kas refusing to leave and his pathetic state of existence so blatantly on display, and with waves and waves as his nerves fire signals to his overworked and tired brain, more tears sprint to his eyes. And this time they fall. Silently, and without a sob, without even a sniffle of acknowledgment. But they fall. 
And Steve just wants to go home.
🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @hammity-hammer (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)
part 2 here
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the-karma-cafe · 4 months
Text
arthur morgan x reader ("thursdays")
(also posted on ao3 under same username)
in which the boys are curious where arthur runs off to every thursday night (ITS FOR SEX)
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song is Moonshadow by Cat Stevens ! spoiler they be fucking :/ i be making them fuck for real (oh no aaaa no arthur dont have sex with me no aaa that would be terrible i would hate that)
Javier’s eyes track Arthur as he slinks away from the campfire, tuning out Sean’s boisterous storytelling. He knows the gunslinger is readying his horse to leave. He also knows he’ll be gone for a couple of hours, returning around one or two in the morning to slump into his bed after everyone has gone to sleep.
How does Javier know?
Surprisingly, Arthur is a creature of strict routine, and he does this song and dance every Thursday night—without fail. 
Javier furrows his brow, unable to quash his curiosity this time. What on Earth could he be going off to do so regularly? He never came back with meat, so he wasn’t hunting. He couldn’t be off robbing, because when he got back, he didn’t drop anything off at the contribution box. Oh, Javier, maybe he was planning to do so later on? Ah, ah, ah! What do we know about Arthur? Ever the routine-man, he donates to the camp box the second he enters camp, no matter what he just got back from. It’s always the first thing he does. Can’t be shoppin’, ‘cause it’s too late for that. Can’t be killin’, ‘cause he comes back clean. 
A cuff round his shoulder roused him from his thoughts. “Javier! Didja hear me?” Sean said, drink emboldening his speech (not that the Irishman needed much encouragement). 
Javier ignored him, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Arthur was on his horse, trotting away from camp, everyone else none-the-wiser.
“Hullloooo??” Sean needled, pushing his side into Javier’s. 
Javier looked over to Lenny and Charles sitting across the campfire from them, and felt a spark of inspiration ignite within him. He leaned forward, beckoning them closer with his hand. They looked confused, but crossed the clearing anyway, kneeling in front of his and Sean’s log. 
“What is it?” Lenny prompted, his voice hushed. He could always trust Lenny to be discreet.
“Yeah!” Sean added, much louder. ...He could’ve guessed. 
He lowered his voice, smirking conspiratorially. “Where’d Arthur go?”
Sean and Lenny frowned, caught off-guard by the question, but Charles inclined his head in understanding. “I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”
“Noticed what??” Sean whined, leaning in closer to Charles. “Don’t be keepin’ secrets, now!”
Charles rolled his eyes, waving his hand to shush Sean. He nodded his head to Javier. “Arthur’s been leaving every Thursday night.”
Sean scrunched his nose. “So what? Art’ur leaves all the time!” Lenny nodded along.
Javier shook his head. “But Thursdays are different. He leaves around 10PM, comes back around 1AM. Why the same amount of time?”
Sean was quiet for a moment (if one could believe it), before jumping up from the log, his beer bottle sloshing in his hand. “Let’s go find out!!” he whispered loudly, grinning from ear to ear.
Javier couldn’t help but mirror his expression. He was hoping he wasn’t the only one this curious about it. He felt a thrum of excitement run through him. He pushed up from the log, Lenny readying to follow him.
“Guys,” Charles interrupted, stopping their walk to the horses. “Arthur’s entitled to his privacy. We should let him have this—whatever it is.” 
He should’ve expected this from ever-noble Charles. Sean began to argue, but Javier cut him off, knowing he wouldn’t win against Charles. “It’s probably nothing.” he retorted, trying not to feel guilty under the other man’s pointed stare. He turned away, making for the horses anyway. “I’m going. You don’t have to.”
“Wouldn’t miss this fer the world!” Sean laughed, immediately tagging along. Javier fought the triumphant grin pulling at his lips. He heard Lenny awkwardly shuffle behind them, some whispered apology to Charles.
He mounted his horse, waiting impatiently for Sean to struggle onto his own. His eyes searched the growth around the camp, hoping to find an indication of where Arthur ran off to. He could track, but Charles was the expert. It would make things much easier to have him with them…
The man in question’s voice came behind him. “I’m only tagging along to make sure you don’t ruin whatever Arthur has going on.” He turned to see Charles mounting Taima, disapproval marring his proud features. 
Javier grinned in spite of it. “Excellent! Vámonos!” he cheered, leading the search brigade with Charles by his side, the other man’s trained eye focused on the ground. Lenny followed behind them with Sean drunkenly pulling up the rear. Charles looked as though he wanted to stop him from coming, but seemed to decide against it, knowing the stubborn man wouldn’t listen to a word he said.
Charles followed Arthur’s trail down the left path from camp, past the trees, past the tracks, until they arrived in Valentine. Javier felt giddy. 
Charles stopped them in front of the saloon, hopping off his horse to hitch her, the rest of them quickly following suit.
“The saloon?” Sean whispered, creeping up the steps to peer through the building’s windows. Lenny followed behind him, and the two poked their noses over the ledge of the window, trying to sneak a glance within. Charles walked over to join them, and would have looked less suspicious if not for the two idiots in front of him crouched like children. 
Javier approached the window opposite them, casually leaning to the side of it to look in. Not that his subtlety helped him, as again, he was across from three grown men cartoonishly trying to peek inside as well. 
He spied a couple of men that looked like Arthur before finally seeing actual Arthur at the bar. He wasn’t hunched over it, like some of the other patrons were, and instead was looking around at the other people in the saloon, as if searching for someone. What could that be about? He wondered.
Before he could think on it further, Sean strolled into the saloon, Lenny in tow. Charles shared a knowing glance with him before following them in. 
Sean beelined for Arthur, and soon they all surrounded him, clapping him on the back.
“You’d go to the saloon without inviting yer favorite drinking buddy?” Sean accused, roughly pushing at the man’s shoulder. 
“My favorite drinking buddy, huh?” Arthur echoed, his voice not reflecting what Javier knew to be embarrassment on his face. Arthur slumped over the bar, tugging the front of his hat further over his face. 
Sean gasped. “Drinkin’ with me’s a treat! Ye should be so lucky!”
Javier nudged him from his other side. “We were wondering where you headed off to all the time. Had we known it was just the saloon we would not have bothered!” he laughed, waving the bartender over. He would buy him a drink to apologize.
“You too, Charles?” Arthur asked, sounding betrayed. 
Charles sighed, apologizing. “I was trying to get them to leave you alone, Arthur.” Javier couldn’t help but think the man didn’t put up too much of a fight. 
“Well,” Arthur cleared his throat. “‘F that’s all, you can all head on back to camp, I’ll be back soon.”
Sean scoffed. “Why d’you want to be rid of us so-”
A guitar strum floated over from the back of the saloon, and he trailed off. Arthur buried his head in his arms, the tips of his ears red. Javier cocked a brow, looking over.
“Miss me, y’all?” a pretty woman at the back of the room called out, guitar in hand. A couple of cheers and whoops came from the crowd, the saloon filled with noise.
The boys grinned knowingly. 
“Not. A goddamn. Word.” Arthur groaned, his voice muffled by his arms. 
Sean barked a laugh, clapping the man on the back. “Ohoho, ye rascal, we shoulda known ye’d try ta keep this beauty ta yerself!” He wolf-whistled towards the performer.
Javier grinned toothily, leaning in to tease Arthur. “You could have told us you were only leaving to see about a girl, Arthur.”
Arthur pushed up from his slump, nursing his whiskey miserably. “Like you would’ve let me hear the end of it.” He grumbled. Javier pushed his extra drink over to the man, giggling like a teenager. Arthur the Stoic, red-faced and shy about a singer. He never thought he’d see the day!
The woman, having finished her introductions while they teased Arthur, began to sing. Javier watched Arthur turn himself slightly to watch her.
Yes, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Arthur couldn’t help the dreamy smile that twisted his mouth, watching her. She looked so content, fully in her element up there on Valentine’s tiny lifted stage. The piano man to her right had abandoned his duties to drink at the nearest table.
And if I ever lose my hands
Lose my plow, lose my land
Oh, if I ever lose my hands
Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to work no more
Her southern accent colored the lyrics, guiding the notes up and down as she pleased. The patrons knew this song, and sang along with her every now and then, but none followed the exact way she sang it, allowing him to easily follow her voice amidst the noise.
And if I ever lose my eyes
If my colors all run dry
Yes, if I ever lose my eyes
Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to cry no more
Sean stumbled into the fray, caught in some dance with a couple of other patrons, breaking his trance. Arthur dragged a hand over his face, hoping he didn’t look as foolish as he felt. 
Yes, I’m bein' followed by a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Most nights, he would allow himself to indulge in the fantasy. Convince himself she was singin’ for him, that when they locked eyes across the saloon, she had the same look in hers as he did. 
And if I ever lose my legs
I won't moan, and I won't beg
Oh, if I ever lose my legs
Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to walk no more
He downed his drink and reached for Javier’s—anything to give him an excuse for the way he was lookin’ at her. Having them with him just dragged him back to reality: he was just another face in the crowd to her, and even if he did catch her eye, she would just think him old and sour-faced, and leave it at that. 
And if I ever lose my mouth
All my teeth, north and south
Yes, if I ever lose my mouth
Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to talk no more
He took another deep drink, feeling that familiar haze begin to set in on the edge of his vision. 
Did it take long to find me?
I asked the faithful light
Oh, did it take long to find me?
And are you gonna stay the night?
This would be the last time he let himself come here on a Thursday night. He was just torturin’ himself, thinkin’ of things that would never be. Head in the clouds, like Micah would say. Christ, he was glad they didn’t think to bring him along.
I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
The drink crept into his heart. If this was his last night here, with her, he might as well fool himself one last time, the drink said. What’s the harm? One last time can’t hurt. It wheedled, and he knew he’d be miserable come morning.
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
He leaned to his right, seeking Javier’s weight to nudge him for another drink (least he could do for ruinin’ his fun), but felt only air. He frowned, glancing around for the others. Sean had dragged Lenny into his drunken dance, Javier was speaking with some well-endowed woman in the corner (who seemed very pleased to have his attention), and Charles… his frown deepened, squinting at the blurry crowd. He couldn’t see Charles. Knowing the women of Valentine, he was likely cornered somewhere, politely refusing their services (although for a man like Charles, perhaps it was free).
Arthur grunted, turning back to his empty glass. Figures that his friends would quickly find company at a place he frequented, and he was left miserable and alone. He plucked his hat off his head, raking his other hand through his hair. He was sure he looked a mess—no wonder he was by himself. 
“Hey, cowboy.” a voice came from his right, startling him from his wallowing. He turned, and felt his heart jump to see his singer leaning against the bar next to him. 
Her eyes were bright, her face flushed. She seemed out of breath from her performance, but pleased, satisfied with how she had done. 
He gaped like a fish. Say somethin’, goddammit!  
She smiled, shifting her eyes to his glass. She pointed at it lazily. “Be a doll and get me what you’re havin’?”
He nodded dumbly, gesturing wordlessly at the bartender. Seconds later, a replica of his drink sat in front of her. She thanked him and brought the glass to her lips. He knew he looked ridiculous, eyes trained on the way her lips parted, the amber liquid gliding into her mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
She set the glass back down, giving him a teasing smile. “You mute?”
He shook his head—then inwardly smacked himself for yet another wordless response. “No.” Christ, you can do better than that.
She giggled, and he thought he might die. “What a scintillating conversationalist you are, Mister…” she trailed off, tilting her head. 
“Morgan.” he provided. His mind caught up to the conversation fast enough to ask for her name in turn (he deserved a pat on the back for being so quick-witted). She gave it, and he almost sighed aloud. She had a name she introduced herself with to the crowds, but he suspected it was a stage name, and he had been correct. Her real name was a privilege to finally learn. 
He repeated it back to her, experimentally rolling it on his tongue. She grinned. “Sounds nice when you say it, Mr. Morgan.” 
“Arthur,” he corrected. “‘S just Arthur. For you.” He coughed, turning to order another drink, just to have something, anything , to distract him from the weight of her gaze on him. “I mean, if you want. Morgan’s fine too.”
“Arthur,” she purred. He felt faint. “I like that more.” His next drink arrived and he immediately buried his face in it, unable to meet her eyes. Christ, he was like a teenager. He inwardly scolded himself.
She carried on, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I see you here a lot, Arthur.” she gestured over her shoulder to the crowd. “First time I seen you bring friends, though.”
So she had seen him in the crowd all those times? He squashed the thought before it ruined him. He laughed, shaking his head. “Bastards invited themselves.” He chanced a glance at her, her attention on the crowd instead of him. He eyed her drink, already half-empty in her hand, before looking up, up, to the curve of her chest, the proud slope of her neck, the strands of hair falling loose from her updo, her lips, her nose, her eyes… he forced himself to look at the crowd instead. “Don’t you have some adorin’ fans to go talk to?”
She turned her head to look at him, but he kept his eyes focused ahead. “I thought I was already doin’ that.” she sidled closer to him, nudging her shoulder against his arm. Warmth radiated off of her. “Unless you’re not one of my adoring fans.”
Arthur felt heat creep up his neck and he shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” she echoed, amusement coloring her voice. “I don’t think you’ve missed a single one of my performances, Arthur Morgan.” he felt a shiver run up his spine. “If anyone’s a fan, it’s you.”
He pulled the lip of his hat down over his eyes. “Maybe.” Guilty as charged.
She laughed, and rounded to his front. She flicked up the front of his hat, and his eyes met hers. He stilled, entranced. There seemed to be a glow about her, some hazy halo enveloping her body. How much had he had?  
“You won’t admit it?” What had they been talking about again? He tried not to focus on their difference in height, how easy it would be to scoop her up, his hands so large on her hips… 
“Well?” He flexed his hands, trying to reign himself in. Her face was expectant: eyebrows raised, pretty lips pursed. 
He shook his head. Couldn’t this woman see he couldn’t think straight? 
Apparently that counted as an answer and she scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “You embarrassed?”
Yes. Why did she think he was, again? He sighed. “I’m sorry, miss,” he tried her name again, wanting to say it over and over. “I believe I am too drunk for this conversation.”
She grinned in understanding. “Why don’t we talk someplace quieter, make things easier on your poor head, hm?” 
Someplace quieter? His mind echoed, while his body nodded dumbly, stumbling behind her. She took his hand in her own, leading him up the stairs. His eyes were trained intently on their hands, her hand small, warm, in his, her fingertips roughened from guitar strings. 
What was she doin’, touchin’ a man like him? He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, as much as he knew he should. It felt nice, to indulge. The hazy shroud around his vision encroached further inwards, tunneling his view.  
“Here,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear. She pushed open a door, leading him inside and shutting it behind them. It was suddenly much quieter. He breathed a sigh of relief, some tension leaving his set shoulders.
“Nicer up here, isn’t it?” she prompted, releasing his hand. He ached at the loss. He dragged his gaze up to watch her dance over to the… bed. He gulped, valiantly fighting off the thoughts that sprang up at the sight of her. 
“Mhm.” He didn’t know what to do with himself. He stood awkwardly where she had left him, staring dumbly at her. What the hell was she thinkin’, bringin’ a man like him up here, alone with her? She could get herself hurt, or worse. He frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I shouldn’ be up here with you.” He shook his head, forcing himself to look at the ground. “Ain’t right. You shouldn’ trust me.” his words slurred, but he hoped she was taking him seriously despite it. 
“Why not?”
He groaned. God, her voice. He buried his head in his hands. “I ain’t. A nice man, miss,” he spoke her name again, and god, hoped she couldn’t hear how he loved to say it.
He felt her hand on his arm. When had she gotten up? She was so warm. He lowered his hands, chancing a look into her eyes, hoping he was strong enough to resist their pull. 
Christ, of course he couldn’t. She looked up at him through her lashes, stepping closer, their bodies almost touching. He breathed in, unable to bring himself to look away this time. She smelled like the alcohol everything smelled like in the saloon, but a sweet undertone ran beneath it. He was reminded of the saccharine scent of canned peaches. 
Her hand smoothed down his arm to his hand, lacing their fingers together. Her other reached up, up, and palmed his cheek, her touch gentle like she was approaching some wild horse. He leaned into it before he could stop himself, his stubble scratching against her skin. 
“How ‘bout,” she started, her voice soft and quiet, “I decide that for myself?”
His eyelids felt heavy, and he felt himself forgetting what she was even responding to. His free hand began to move of its own accord, bumping into her thigh, smoothing up to her hip. He looked down. Just like he had imagined… 
She moved, and his gaze shifted to her face, slowly nearing his. His breath hitched. This was some sweet dream. He would awaken in his tent, frustrated and wanting, would take himself in his hand and relieve himself to the sight of her like this in his mind’s eye. He would wait until next Thursday and slink back to the bar, eager for more. Her lips touched his and he sighed into her mouth, whiskey on his breath. He would stay asleep forever, if he could, lips pushing against hers, nipping at her soft skin, tonguing past it. 
She parted from him, gently, as if to not scare him off. He breathed heavily, eyes lidded, vision tunneled onto her mouth. She started to speak, but he cut her off, pushing hungrily into her, cupping his hand around the back of her neck. He had waited so long, so long. He would take it, even if it wasn’t real. 
She gasped into his mouth and he almost moaned at the sensation. God, what a privilege to finally have her all to himself. To have her in front of him, touching him, kissing him, instead of with her crowd, Arthur by himself at the other end.
Her knees buckled, falling back onto the bed. He huffed, breaking from her. He thrust his hands beneath her thighs, hearing her squeak in surprise. “Easy, girl.” he muttered under his breath, picking her up and tossing her into the pillows at the head of the bed, following soon after. 
He climbed onto the bed above her, and stilled, looking down at her. Her hair had spilled out of its updo, hair piece having been discarded… at some point, perhaps before they had even entered the room? His memory felt hazy. She looked up at him through her lashes, her lips parted, chest heaving. His eyes softened. “Yer beautiful, miss,” he whispered her name. 
Her cheeks flushed prettily. “Thank you, Arthur.” she breathed. She tilted her head up slightly, her eyes slipping down to his lips. 
He reached out, taking a piece of her hair between his fingers, twisting it around. It was soft. Of course it was. It was devastating how perfect she was. “I liked your song, earlier.” he mumbled, focused on her hair. 
“I… I’m glad.” she whispered, her hand winding up his arm, to his neck, to his head, to take off his hat. She placed it down somewhere, and her hand soon wound its way into his hair, her short nails scraping at the back of his head. His eyes slipped closed, humming at the sensation. “I was hoping you would be here, tonight.”
He blinked open his eyes just enough to see her face. “What?” he asked, his voice gruff. 
She averted her gaze, blush deepening. “Been lookin’ forward to seein’ you at my performances.”
He scoffed. Now he knew this was a dream. “Uh huh.” He leaned in, burying his nose in her neck. “You don’t gotta lie t’me.” He turned, placing open-mouthed kisses along any skin he could find. Her breath hitched in his ear. 
“I-I’m not.” she insisted. He hummed, laving across a section of skin before taking it between his teeth, sucking slightly. She held her breath for a second, forcing out her next words. “I been… been dreadin’ the day you stop showin’ up,” she breathed out, “and I’d have missed my chance.” 
He parted from her, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. They were lidded, but earnest. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. “I counted at least ten other men better-lookin’ and closer in age t’you. Yer tellin’ me not one o’ them caught yer eye?” 
“‘S that really so hard to believe?” she palmed his cheek again, stroking it with her thumb. 
“Yes.” he laughed dryly, but leaned into her hand all the same. 
She brought up her other hand, cupping his face. “Look how sweet you are, baby.” she cooed, bringing his face closer to nuzzle her nose against his. “What a cutie-pie!” she teased.
His eyes softened, tracing the features of her face. He wished he could pause time, sketch her in his journal. He’d just have to memorize how she looked, and try his best to replicate it later. Once he woke up, of course. From this dream.
She connected their lips and he groaned, not expecting the sudden contact again. Her hands moved from his face to wrap around his neck and scratch at his shoulders. It felt like she was sucking him in, how truly he could not pull away. 
He rubbed his hand up her thigh, pushing up her long skirt. Her skin was smooth under his rough hand, moving up to grab at the soft flesh of her ass, squeezing and pulling her up towards him. She arched slightly, and he grabbed his other hand behind her waist to pull her closer, closer still. 
Her breasts brushed against his chest, her nipples stiffening through the thin fabric. He nudged her head to the side with his nose, moving to kiss down her neck. She sighed in his ear, her hands busying themselves with his arms and shoulders. Drink made him sloppy in his movements, his tongue wetting her neck and chest as he made his way down to her breasts. He didn’t bother to tug the fabric down, instead mouthing over her nipple through the fabric, flattening and swirling his tongue into the mound. 
She whimpered, her hand moving up to tug at the hair on the back of his head, her other moving down to tug her shirt down under her tits. He parted from her while she did so, unable to help the smirk twisting his mouth at her desperation. 
“You like that, doll?” he muttered, taking in the sight of her bare breasts, her shirt bunched up underneath them. 
She stuttered out a response, arching up towards his mouth. Seeing her like this sent a surge of confidence through him. She was his. No one else downstairs got to see her like this. Just him. Only him. He brushed his lips against her nipple, watching her try to push into his mouth. 
He smiled against her, and she whined, tugging his hair. “Don’t tease me, Arthur.” she breathed. Fuck. He took it into his mouth, his hand encircling the other, twisting and toying with it. He would give her anything she wanted if it meant she would say his name like that again. 
He dragged his mouth down, not missing the soft moan she gave at the loss, cool air ghosting over her wet nipple. He kissed down her stomach, moving his hands down underneath her thighs, pushing them up, up. 
He bunched her skirt around her, and pulled back. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead in surprise. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He looked up at her. 
Her face was reddened with embarrassment, her hands covering her cheeks. 
“Care to explain this?” he teased, running his hands down her thighs, closer, closer. 
She bit her lip. “I…” she looked away. 
He tilted his head, indicating he was waiting. 
“I… did say I was hopin’ to see you tonight, didn’t I?” she laughed breathily. 
His chest rumbled in approval, looking down at her exposed cunt, already wet without him touching it. “All this…” he drawled, glancing up at her, “for me?” 
She nodded, hiding slightly behind her hands. 
“Too kind to me, sweetheart,” he lowered himself, breathing her in. He kissed her thigh, feeling her twitch. “You shouldn’t have…” his breath ghosted between her legs, and she shuddered, anticipation building. He placed a few more open-mouthed kisses inside her thighs, feeling her arch into him, growing desperate. He took pity. 
Gripping her soft thighs in his hands, he licked one long stripe up her slit, gathering her wetness onto his tongue. She gasped, tightening her legs. He forced them open, holding them up. “Be good, princess, or I won’t be good to you.” he admonished, kissing her thigh. 
She shuddered. “Shit, yes, sorry yes, please, I’ll be good, please,” she breathed, trying to wiggle closer to his mouth. 
“Good girl,” he praised, flattening his tongue against her clit, lapping at it softly. She cursed, her hands fisting the bedding. He laved up her slit, once, twice, three times, before closing his lips around her bud, lightly sucking it in and swirling his tongue around it. 
“Fuck, Arthur,” she gasped, and he groaned against her, working his tongue inside of her, circling the entrance before pushing in, lapping up at her walls. He smoothed his hand up her thigh, reaching her clit with the rough pad of his thumb. He pressed gentle circles into it, his tongue spreading into her. She hissed, bucking into his ministrations. 
He pulled away, sliding his thumb down from her clit to her entrance, gently working his way inside. 
“Arthur…” she whined. 
“Yeah?” He teased, mimicking her tone, pushing his thick thumb further inside of her. 
She moaned, pushing herself onto him. “Arthur, please, I need more,” she breathed, meeting his gaze. “I need you .” 
He felt himself throb against his already-strained pants. He cursed under his breath, moving to unbuckle his pants. In his tunnel vision, he didn’t see her move from her position on the bed. 
Her hand came to rest over where his struggled with the buckle. “Let me, baby.” she cooed, moving his hands away. He blinked, letting her move him, watching her smaller hands undo his belt, working his pants down, taking him… oh. She took him out, palming his length. Shit, it looked bigger in her hand. Or maybe he hadn’t been this worked up in awhile. She ghosted her hand up and down, barely fluttering her thumb over the tip. His breath hitched, trying not to buck up into her hand, and failing, miserably. 
She grinned, looking up at him through her lashes. He reached out, stroking her cheek with his hand. “Hey, girl.” he breathed shakily, her hand jerking up suddenly. 
She giggled. “Hey, yourself, handsome.” 
He flushed, suddenly embarrassed to be on the other end. He looked away, only for a moment, before feeling a warm wetness engulf him. He gasped, whipping back to look down at her, half of his length having disappeared into her mouth. “Shit, darlin’,” he cursed, his accent dragging at the words. He bucked up into her lips, smoothing his thumb across her cheek. 
She hummed, the sound sending vibrations into him. “God, sweetheart, you’re bein’ so fuckin’ good to me right now,” he hissed, his hand reaching underneath to cup her jaw, squeezing it and guiding himself further in. 
She opened her mouth wider to take him. “Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, feeling her tongue slide up, her hand taking what her mouth couldn’t. 
She pulled off of him, kissing his tip, pumping her hand over the slick she had left. His breath shuddered. She smiled up at him. “You want more?” 
“God, yes.” he pushed her back onto the bed, muscling her onto her stomach, ass in the air. She squeaked in surprise, and he palmed her ass, squeezing it open to get a better look. God, she was practically dripping for him. He bit his lip, groaning. He rubbed himself up her slit, gathering the wetness there, rubbing it onto himself. “All this for me, darlin’?” he whispered, squeezing her hip. 
She wiggled herself back, trying to take him in. “Fuck, Arthur, it is, please, just fuck me already,” she whined, his tip sliding just past where she wanted him. 
“If the lady insists,” he teased, aligning himself with her, before softly, gently, pushing into her. 
She turned her face into the mattress, moaning, grabbing at the covers. “ Jesus, Arthur.” she groaned, her words muffled. 
He pressed in further. Halfway. “Can’t hear you, doll.” It was taking everything in him to go so slowly. 
She turned her head to the side, pushing back to take more of him in. He hissed, his hands twitching on her ass, squeezing her. 
He let out a breath, finally fully seated. He didn’t want to hurt her, he couldn’t. He gyrated against her, desperate for some kind of friction. A whine built in his throat. “Can-” 
Before he could ask, she forcefully pushed back into him, and he cursed, abandoning all hesitation and fucking into her. She cried out his name, arching against him. She was so tight and hot around him, her ass bouncing back against him with every thrust. It was all he could do to keep himself standing, his vision focused solely on where their bodies met. 
“Ar-thur,” she gasped, her breath shuddering, “God, God, you’re so big Arthur, Jesus Christ,” she moaned, her words starting to devolve into sounds with no meaning. 
He kept himself rooted deep within her, barely pulling out before slamming back in again, and again, and again. Her hands grasped for purchase anywhere, everywhere, on the bed, moaning noises that almost sounded like his name, pushing back into him with every thrust. 
Shit. Shit. He screwed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure he could last much longer. 
“Miss,” he breathed her name. “I, shit, I-” he grabbed her thighs, his fingers bruising in their pressure, forcing her back into him. 
She whined at the pressure, growing limper. 
“Fuck! Fuck,” he yanked himself from her, grabbing at himself and finishing on her back. 
She had collapsed into the bed, giving a small satisfied moan. He breathed heavily, immediately grabbing a towel from the closet and cleaning her off. “S-Sorry, Miss.” he caught his breath, “Should’ve grabbed the towel before doin’ that on you.” He discarded the towel, placing a small kiss on her back, then immediately wondering if that was too much.
“What?” she said, muffled a bit by the covers. She turned, pushing herself up to sit and look at him. She frowned, reaching out and cupping his cheek. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, cowboy.” Her frown twisted to a smile, “I oughta be thankin’ you for such a nice time.” she teased, pinching his cheek.
He suddenly grew bashful, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’ know about all that, but I definitely am thankin’ you.” Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her lips slightly swollen… he had so many things to remember for his journal. “Best dream I’ve had in awhile,” he mumbled, moving to get under the covers. 
She joined him. “Dream?” she laughed, “You still drunk enough to think you’re dreamin’?”
He shrugged, opening his arms. She shifted into them, laying her head on his chest. “Could be stone cold sober and still think this was a dream.” He pecked her head. “I’ll miss you in the mornin’, girl.” 
She snorted, but snuggled into him anyway.
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─
Arthur groaned, the light only hitting his closed eyes, but giving him a headache all the same. His back didn’t hold the ache it usually did, though, laying on this terrible cot. It was the small victories, he guessed.
He thought back to his dream last night, and sighed wistfully. What he would give to have that right now, his cock painfully hard this morning. He forced himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. 
A hand reached across his stomach, ghosting against his length. He jumped, looking over to his side. “Well, good morning to you, too.” she yawned, lightly playing with him, a teasing look in her eye. 
He blinked. He squinted.
He rubbed his eyes again.
“Holy shit.”
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─
Bonus
The woman placed the guitar against the wall, happily engaged in conversation with some of the patrons closest to her stage. “Excuse me,” Charles butted in, stealing her attention from them. 
She turned to him, confused, but polite. “Yes, sir?”
He smiled kindly. “I’m sorry, Miss, but could you do me a favor?”
“Depends on the favor, don’t it?” she laughed.
He nodded in understanding, and pointed to Arthur, hunched over the bar. “Do you see that miserable man over there?” She looked, and stiffened in recognition. “He has been coming to this saloon every Thursday night, just for you.” he turned to her. 
A blush painted her cheeks. “You’re kiddin’.” she laced her fingers together nervously. “He’s never said anything to me.”
Charles shook his head. “My friend—he is shy with women.” he leaned in conspiratorially, “Especially women he likes.” The woman’s blush deepened, her gaze darting over to Arthur. He straightened up. “All I ask is that you talk to him. I’m afraid my friends and I have ruined his Thursday, and I’m sure that would cheer him up.”
She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. He could tell why Arthur was so taken with her. “He sounds sweet,” she spoke softly. “I would love to.” 
He thanked her, watching her make true on her word and walk over to Arthur. Charles noted his reddened ears and fumbling fingers and smiled. Hopefully, this would make up for it.
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jihyoruri · 3 months
Note
KARINA TEASING YN — yu jimin x 5th member reader
hcs part two please, it's soooo good, thank you very much 🥰
I’ll do three like the last time ❀ KARINA TEASING YN#2 — yu jimin x 5th member reader (aespa!yn)
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clip one ✯
all five girls walked out the van smiling and waving and the cameras before getting into a single file line, jimin stood in her spot beside yn before looking at the girl who tried her best to switch spots with minjeong who looked at her confused.
the older girl rolled her eyes and grabbed yn’s hand away from minjeong and pulled yn closer to her side causing the girl to look off the side awkwardly while the rest of the girls laugh at yn being silently ordered around.
the girls continued to wave and smile at the cameras before they were instructed to go inside, yn already getting to zoom to aeri’s side but was stopped by jimin who pulled back yn and put her hand in the girls back pocket and walked into the building.
clip two ✯
yn adjusted the long sleeve shirt under her baggy band tee shirt as she stood in front of the mirror practicing the lyrics to “all the things she said.” 
while jimin adjusted the camera so it was facing them before walking over to where yn is and standing behind the girl who stopped practicing and immediately turned to look at the girl behind her.
“what?” “nothing.”, jimin then grabbed yn’s waist to tune the girl back around causing yn to yelp, “what now?”
 “Im ticklish there you know that.” yn said in turning back around to face jimin pointing a finger accusingly in the older girls face.
clip three ✯
yn sat beside jimin who picked up a cared from the deck, both girls were asked to do a video with buzzfeed where they get asked and answered questions about each other, they specifically asked these two because fans have been deprived of real interaction between them for months.
“what’s the cutest thing about yn?” jimin read from the card before looking up in thought, while yn looked at the camera with a jokingly raised eyebrow.
jimin finally gasped like she knew what her answer was and leaned over and pinched on her thigh causing yn to let out a small scream that sounded more like a yelp.
“what the heck.” yn said rubbing her thigh before continuously hitting jimin’s arm softly.
“that sound she just made.” jimin says as she laughs and brushes off yn’s hit, “that’s the cutest thing about her.”
yn immediately stoped her hitting and moved her chair away from the older girl, “you sadist.” 
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zer0pm · 1 year
Text
Imagine Luis using the communicator to call you. Constantly.
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“Luis? What’s your status?”
“No bueno, my friend. I’m in a lot of pain.”
Your head immediately snaps up at attention to these words. Leon, who answered the call as the device was on his person, shares your look of alarm and nods in understanding to prepare to come to the Spaniard’s aid.
“Where are you?” Leon inquires, maneuvering the communicator between you two so that you can listen in as well. “How serious are your injuries?”
The man on the other line groans, “I’d say pretty serious. Severe, even.”
Filled with worry, you were about to join the line of questioning until his voice cuts you off before you could utter a sound.
“After all… how does one recover from a lonely heart?”
Leon squints, “…What?”
“I am separated from my light- mi luz! Forced to wander these terrifying, dark corridors alone without any source of warmth and comfort!” In the tiny screen, you can see the man waving his arms around with an exaggerated pout on his face. He looked like he was rehearsing a scene of a play or something. Luis notices your face on his end and smiles widely before releasing an over-the-top gasp and calling you by name. “¿Dónde estás, mi luz? I am suffering without you.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, doing your best to choke down the laugh that was threatening to erupt from your chest. Before reuniting with Leon S. Kennedy, your partner in the mission to retrieve Ashley Graham, you were running around the village with Luis Serra, a man you happened to come across while fighting hordes of infected villagers. Initially, you were suspicious of him, but he proved himself to be a man of good character, chivalrously watching your back and using his intimate knowledge of the area and the terrors that creep within to navigate you both through multiple dangerous encounters.
You and he became close quickly, forging a strong bond during your time together, made easy with the man’s charisma and light-hearted nature. Even in the constant face of danger, Luis would twist the dark ambiance to his playful tune, often making you the muse of his antics if not for the sole purpose to tease a smile upon your face. So what he was doing now was not at all surprising, but the confused and incredulous look upon Leon’s face was priceless.
Just as you were going to point out that it hasn’t at all been that long since you two have separated ways so that you can help Leon relocate Ashley, the blond agent beside you drops the call with a push of a button. He then throws an inquisitive glare your way.
“What?” you ask.
“Do I dare even ask what the hell that was?” Leon shoots back.
You ponder his question for a moment before answering, “Honestly, it’d save you the headache if you didn’t.”
With that, Leon drops the conversation with a sigh before taking the lead to move on. Little did you both know, it wouldn’t be the last time Luis would call.
The second time he calls, he asks how you and Leon were progressing. And just like the first time, Leon answers, reporting that you were busy cracking at a difficult door puzzle while he kept watch.
“Whoever designed this castle was a real asshole,” the agent comments.
“Agreed,” you sigh. “And whoever took the time to reset these puzzles is an even bigger asshole.”
Luis’ voice chimes in through the static. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance? I am a brilliant man, afterall. Let me have a look, por favor.”
Thinking nothing of it, Leon walks over and faces the screen of the comm to you and the door so that Luis can see what you are working on from behind before you reset the puzzle. You then explain how you got stuck and your theories on what the possible solutions could be. While doing so, Luis hums after each pause, his face showing that of absolute concentration. After you finished and a moment of considerable silence passes, you engage him.
“Well?” you ask. “Any thoughts?”
Luis lifts his hand from his stubbled chin, “Just one.” He points at you, his voice lowers to a husky growl.
“You look particularly ravishing from this angle.”
You were grateful that Leon hung up before Luis can see the blush burning hot on your cheeks. After some time, you managed to solve the puzzle and proceed with the mission although Leon was none too happy with the Spanish man for wasting both of your times.
The third time the communication device goes off, you offer to take it from Leon.
“It’s probably him again. Why don’t I handle this one?”
“No,” he denies, shaking his head. “I still don’t trust him and you don’t need the distraction.”
Instead of being offended at your partner practically casting your professionalism into doubt, you reason with him. “C’mon, Leon. It could be serious this time.”
“Highly doubt it.”
However, more time passes and the device is still beeping. The sound echoes off the walls in taunting pings to the gnawing point where it was practically imprinted into your brains. When Leon couldn’t handle it anymore, he sighs in defeat and pushes the button. Again, he doesn’t hand it to you and greets the dark-haired man himself with an irritated frown.
“This better be good.”
“Depends on your definition of “good”, mi compadre.” Luis too wore a grimace, his voice void of his usual humor. “I’ve relocated one of my hidden caches and uncovered the suppressants you will both need to slow the growth of the plaga within your bodies.”
“Well, damn. That sounds like great news to me.” A wave of relief washes over Leon’s face, probably because Luis finally shared something worthwhile. “So what’s the catch, then?”
“Catch is- there are two different kinds of doses. One dose is a simple needle injection. That will be for you, Leon. Pero, the other…” he trails off, eyes casted with a faraway look while the adam’s apple in his throat bobs. Whatever was on his mind seems difficult to swallow let alone speak aloud.
Curiosity evident in Leon’s expression, he prods him further. “What is it, Luis? Is the other dose dangerous to administer?”
“It can be. The application process has a high probability of being rather intensive. For both the receiver and the administrator.”
You join in, “What do you mean?”
It was only until the words left your mouth did you realize what you just waltzed into.
Upon hearing your words, Luis’ expression changes like day and night, the somber frown flipping into a mischievous smirk. “It is nothing you can’t handle, mi amor. I’m certain. Only that it requires you and I to exchange bodily fluids in-“
Never before have you seen Leon hang up so fast, his hand covering his beet red face. You couldn’t tell if it was out of embarrassment, disgust, or fury for falling for the Spaniard’s antics once again and concluded that it was all at once.
“Let’s… ugh… Let’s just keep going.”
You didn’t put up a fight at the order, fighting off your own set of emotions that stirred from Luis’ shameless teasing. However, not even five steps were taken and the walkie talkie beeps. Leon was livid.
“For fuck’s sake, what now?!”
“Catch you at a bad time, Leon?” A deadpan feminine voice comes through the comms and you swear Leon turned several shades paler.
Leon’s “informant” tipped you off on Ashley’s last sighting and you two wasted no time moving to catch up to her. After fighting another wave of plaga, tensions were running high. So when you two were rushing to navigate around the courtyard, the communicator goes off once more and that became the last straw for Leon. Already fuming, he waited to see the Spaniard’s face on the device before verbally popping off.
“Luis, I swear to god. If the reason you’re calling is to talk about how miserable and lonely you are or make some dumb comment on a certain someone’s assets, I am going to literally throw this walkie talkie off the ramparts,” Leon snarled, his frustration unrestrained. “So I dare you, Luis, I fucking dare you to speak. And it better be god damn important!”
For a moment there was only white noise, then a familiar thick accent finally comes through.
“… I was going to say that I can see you two across the courtyard,” the man reports candidly, “and there’s a swarm of monsters coming in at your three o’clock.”
Sure enough, a horde of giant mutated insects were zooming towards you and Leon. Amidst the countless gunshots and death cries of your enemies, you can hear your fellow agent beside you cursing colorfully to the high heavens as well as the sound of hysterical laughter further in the distance.
When it was all over, the communicator was beeping again. Leon didn’t even bother answering. Instead, he tosses the device over to you without so much as a word or making eye contact. The brief exchange almost made you laugh as you press the button and are greeted by a familiar handsome face whose grey eyes lit up instantly at the sight of you.
“I think you broke the poor man,” you say with an amused, pointed look.
The expression you see in the tiny screen was that of feigned innocent confusion. “¿Perdon? Whatever do you mean? I thought I did my due diligence in warning you two of imminent danger.”
Your ears pick up an irritated groan followed by harsh stomps moving away from your position. You can practically imagine smoke coming out of the blond’s ears as he created distance, muttering an excuse that he is going to check the perimeter. If not for your respect for the man, you would have rolled over laughing.
Shaking your head, you return your attention back to cause of your partner’s grief. “Alright. Now that’s it just the two of us. What did you really want to say to me, Luis?”
“Nada,” the Spanish man shrugs, throwing you his signature charming grin. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”
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