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rafeskai · 4 months ago

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Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Three

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Shit really just went down in this chapter. IM SORRY

Masterlist: Here

The months that followed were a blur of late nights, baby cries, and countless moments of learning how to be something neither of you had ever planned to be—parents. The house was constantly filled with the soft murmur of Willa’s coos, the sound of bottles being washed, and the endless shuffle of trying to make everything fit together.

It wasn’t easy. There were days when you thought you couldn’t keep your eyes open, and nights when you questioned if you were doing anything right at all. But there were moments, too—small victories, fleeting glimpses of joy—that kept you both going.

Moving in with Rafe had been the right decision, you told yourself. The practical side of it made sense, especially as the weeks went on. Rafe was still Rafe: intense, unpredictable, and sometimes impossible to read. But he was trying, and that was something.

Willa had come to see both of you as a constant in her life. She was thriving—growing fast, her chubby cheeks rounding out and her eyes lighting up when either of you walked into the room. You’d become an expert in diaper changes and feeding schedules, and though you hated to admit it, Rafe was actually pretty good with her. He had his moments where he was awkward, unsure, but when it came down to it, he was there. He would hold her when she cried, rock her when she wouldn’t sleep, and talk to her in that soft, almost tender voice you rarely heard from him anywhere else.

You had both fallen into a routine, the rhythm of everyday life settling in like a steady heartbeat. Willa would wake up around 6:30 AM, and by the time Rafe would stumble downstairs with a groggy groan, you’d already had coffee brewing and Willa settled on her blanket. The mornings were quiet—comfortable silence, filled with routine, until Willa started to fuss and everything shifted into motion.

You’d learned how to work together without much communication, both of you picking up on cues. One of you would get the bottle ready while the other soothed Willa, and when she finished, it was time for a nap.

And as much as you hated to admit it, you’d grown used to Rafe’s presence—his heavy footsteps down the hallway, the sound of his voice trying (and sometimes failing) to sing Willa back to sleep at 3 AM.

But there were challenges too. It wasn’t all sweet moments and baby giggles. There were the days where everything felt like it was too much, when you felt overwhelmed by the endless demands of raising a baby, of balancing the practicalities of your life with the unexpected responsibilities of parenting.

There were the mornings when you woke up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all, when you were late for your shifts at the café, and you’d have to rush around to get everything in place. Rafe would always be there, trying to help, but still learning the ropes himself.

The first time you caught him on the phone with his aunt, asking how to properly wash a baby bottle, you had to stifle a laugh. It was the first time you realized that Rafe Cameron—wild, unpredictable Rafe—was just as clueless as you about this whole parenting thing. He might have grown up in a house full of servants, of wealth and privilege, but when it came to taking care of a tiny human, he was as green as they come.

But you didn’t hold it against him. You couldn’t.

The kitchen was where a lot of your moments happened—early mornings when you’d both stand side by side, quietly making coffee, or late nights when you’d settle Willa back into bed, whispering soft words of reassurance to each other. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But it was yours.

One night, as you both took a rare moment to sit on the couch after putting Willa to bed, you glanced at Rafe from the corner of your eye, noticing how he rubbed the back of his neck, a tired but satisfied look on his face. You couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at your lips.

"She’s growing so fast," you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "I swear she was just a tiny little thing a few weeks ago."

Rafe hummed in agreement, glancing over at you with a small, almost wistful smile. "Yeah. And it feels like every time we get used to something, she changes again."

You nodded, leaning back against the couch. "It’s like we’re constantly playing catch-up."

"Yeah," he said, the word carrying more weight than usual. He ran a hand through his hair. "You ever think about what this is all gonna look like when she gets older? I mean, God, we’re just making it up as we go."

You chuckled, the sound light and almost freeing in the quiet room. "I think that’s kind of the point, right?" You paused, looking over at him, your expression softening. "I never thought I’d be here. With you. Raising a baby. But it doesn’t feel... impossible anymore."

Rafe glanced at you, a small flash of something unguarded in his eyes. "Yeah. Me neither." He paused, looking down at his hands before looking back up. "I guess we’re doing okay, huh?"

You didn’t have an answer at first. Instead, you just let your gaze soften. Maybe you hadn’t figured everything out yet. Maybe you still had a long way to go. But right now? Right now, in this moment, you were okay.

The door creaked from the hallway, and you both turned toward it, the sound of Willa stirring faintly through the door. Without a word, Rafe got up, stretching his arms before walking to the crib. You watched him for a moment, surprised at how natural it had become for him to step in like that.

You followed him, your steps quiet as you watched him gently pick Willa up, rocking her in his arms as he murmured something soft to her. You felt a flutter of something in your chest, a strange mix of relief and warmth.

“Got her?” you whispered, half-expecting him to protest.

He looked at you over his shoulder, his face soft, the exhaustion in his eyes mixing with something else—something more like contentment. “Yeah. Go back to sleep. I got it.”

And in that moment, as you watched him rock Willa back to sleep with ease, you realized something: this—whatever this was—had become a part of you. Not the life you’d planned, but a life that felt strangely right.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It was a few days later, and a crisp morning greeted them when the crying started again. Willa had been particularly fussy the past few days—her sleep patterns erratic, her cries escalating to heart-wrenching wails that neither you nor Rafe could seem to soothe. You'd tried everything: feeding her, changing her, singing to her, rocking her to sleep—but nothing worked.

Rafe was pacing around the living room, his eyes scanning every corner of the room as if the solution to Willa’s crying was hidden under a piece of furniture or buried in a drawer. You sat on the couch, rubbing your eyes, already feeling the exhaustion of another sleepless night pressing in on you. You hadn’t been able to focus at work, and the lack of sleep made everything feel like a blur. But now, there was no ignoring it. The crying was louder, more insistent, and it was like a knife to your heart every time she screamed.

Rafe glanced at you, his frustration mounting. “We’ve tried everything,” he muttered, the words tinged with helplessness. "What else can we do?”

You shook your head, feeling that same helplessness clawing at you. “I don’t know... We’ve been through the list a hundred times.”

You both sat there for a moment, staring at the baby monitor as Willa's cries grew even more frantic. You were about to stand up, about to try the rocking chair again, when Rafe's voice broke through the tension.

“I might know something.”

You looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Rafe shifted, his brow furrowing slightly as he leaned against the wall. “Sarah used to do this when she was little. It’s crazy, but it worked every time. She had this blanket... a childhood blanket. I don’t know, it just always calmed her down.”

Your eyes widened as you processed his words. "Wait... Sarah had a blanket? Here?"

Rafe nodded. “Yeah. I think it's still in the attic. I’ll go get it.”

You watched as Rafe turned to leave, the sound of his boots echoing on the stairs. There was a strange, almost surreal feeling in the pit of your stomach as he disappeared from view. Sarah’s blanket. You hadn’t known about it—had no idea it was even still here, tucked away in the attic, a piece of her childhood still lingering in the house after everything that had happened.

A few moments later, Rafe returned, a slightly worn but soft-looking blanket in his hands. He didn’t say anything as he made his way over to the crib where Willa was still crying, her little face scrunched up in distress.

“Here goes nothing,” Rafe muttered, more to himself than to you.

He gently wrapped the blanket around Willa, smoothing it over her tiny body. It was faded in spots, the fabric soft with age, but it carried a strange comfort to it—a piece of Sarah that had been forgotten until now. You stood quietly, watching the scene unfold, unsure of what to expect.

And then, in what felt like an instant, Willa’s cries started to fade. Her tiny hands grasped at the blanket for a moment, and then she let out a soft sigh. Her body, tense from the crying, relaxed in Rafe’s arms, and her big brown eyes blinked up at him, almost like she was seeing him for the first time.

You could hardly believe it. The moment felt like magic.

Rafe, looking just as surprised as you, stood there for a moment, his hands still holding Willa as she cooed softly, her eyelids fluttering. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered. “It actually worked.”

You couldn’t move. The sight of Willa—now calm and almost content—was like a weight lifted from your chest. You had been so focused on solving this crisis, on trying to manage everything, that you hadn’t considered that something so simple, so deeply tied to the past, might be the key.

As Rafe gently placed Willa back in her crib, you stood still, unable to shake the strange sensation that had crept into your heart. Watching him with the blanket, watching him soothe Willa, a feeling washed over you—an unfamiliar tightness in your chest that was both comforting and unnerving. It was as if, in that moment, a piece of Sarah had crossed into your life in a way that felt too intimate. Too real.

Rafe glanced over at you, his face soft, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t think it would actually work,” he admitted quietly, still gazing at Willa, who was now sleeping soundly, wrapped in the faded childhood blanket.

You swallowed, trying to shake the sudden lump in your throat. “I didn’t know she had it,” you whispered, your voice quiet. “It’s... it’s kind of strange, isn’t it? To think that something so simple could bring her comfort.”

Rafe nodded, walking slowly back toward the living room as he sat down on the couch. He looked at you, his gaze slightly distant but full of that same raw honesty you’d come to expect from him. “Yeah, it’s weird. But it makes sense, right? Sarah had that damn thing with her everywhere. Maybe she passed it on to Willa somehow. Who knows? Maybe it’s something about the smell, or just the familiarity of it. But I guess that’s the thing with kids—they find comfort in things that we can’t even explain.”

You didn’t answer immediately. The room felt thick with something unspoken. There was a soft, melancholic weight in the air, and your chest ached. You hadn’t expected to feel this—this weird pull in your heart. The thought of Sarah, the reminder of her presence in this house, in your life, and now, with Willa... it was all too much to process.

You sat down beside Rafe, your body heavy with the unspoken thoughts crowding your mind. Neither of you said anything for a while. There wasn’t anything to say, really. But the silence between you two didn’t feel uncomfortable this time. It felt... shared.

Finally, after a few moments, you spoke, your voice soft but steady. “It’s... strange to think that Sarah’s still here. In some way. For Willa.” You looked at Rafe, trying to read his face, but his expression was guarded. “It’s like... she’s still looking out for her, even now.”

Rafe didn’t meet your gaze immediately. He just stared at the floor, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “But I hope so.”

You glanced down at Willa, her tiny form tucked into the blanket, her face peaceful now. The weight in your chest felt a little lighter. “I hope so, too.”

It wasn’t easy. None of this was. But at that moment, with Sarah's blanket wrapped around Willa, you both realized something—it wasn’t just about the past anymore. It was about the present. And the future.

You didn’t have all the answers, but maybe you didn’t need to. Maybe you just needed to trust that you were doing your best, that you were doing this for Willa, for Sarah, for each other. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

The day had shifted into something quieter, something more grounded. The house felt a little warmer, a little fuller, with Sarah’s memory lingering in the most unexpected of ways.

And as you sat there next to Rafe, silently watching over Willa, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of peace—the first you’d felt in a while.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A few hours later, the night had settled into a rare quiet, the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the house the only sounds in the otherwise still air. Willa had finally fallen asleep—her tiny body now wrapped snugly in her crib, her peaceful face illuminated by the moonlight that spilled through the window. You and Rafe were sitting in the living room, a bottle of wine between you both, the remnants of the evening slipping by in a slow, comfortable haze.

It wasn’t something either of you had planned, but tonight felt different. The weight of the past few months, the stress of adjusting to this new life together, had somehow slipped away after dinner. There was no rush to get up, no urgent task that needed to be done. The wine flowed freely, and for a brief moment, it felt like you were allowed to just breathe.

You poured the second glass of wine, the conversation light, a mix of joking about how neither of you had ever really handled a bottle opener right and how neither of you knew much about wine, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. The normal world felt far away, and this small moment of calm was something you both desperately needed.

“I swear,” Rafe said with a half-grin, swirling his glass and leaning back into the couch, “I think I might be a natural at this wine thing.”

You laughed, lifting your own glass to your lips. “Oh yeah? That’s what I was thinking too. A whole new world of sophistication has opened up for you.” You clinked your glass against him, the light chimes almost too loud in the silence.

There was a quiet ease to the night. The tension of the past few months, the uncertainty of your situation, seemed far away. You both talked about random things—life before Willa, stupid high school memories, the occasional dig at the ridiculousness of the Kooks’ high-society antics. And somehow, in this soft glow of laughter, you both began to forget the weight of your new reality.

But as the night wore on, something in the air between you shifted.

The conversation had died down, and now the silence felt heavier, different. You caught Rafe’s gaze as he looked at you over the rim of his glass, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the space between you seemed charged. It was almost as if, after everything, this moment was too... easy. Too comfortable.

You shifted on the couch, the wine starting to cloud your mind in the way it did when it wasn’t just about a drink anymore. Your heart beat a little faster, a strange heat blooming in your chest.

Rafe’s eyes never left you, and you could feel the sudden awareness of his presence—his usual confidence now laced with something more raw. You tried to brush it off, to laugh it away, but your throat felt tight.

“I think we might’ve had a little too much,” you said, your voice a little unsteady, more than you’d intended. You weren’t sure if it was the wine or the sudden tension or maybe something else entirely.

He nodded, his gaze now focused entirely on you. “Yeah, probably. But... you know, it’s been a while since I’ve had a night like this. With someone.”

You felt the words sit heavy between you both, something unspoken hanging there, and for a brief moment, you swore you saw something flicker in his eyes—something that mirrored what you had felt earlier, that strange warmth in your chest.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could find the right words, Rafe shifted closer.

It was subtle, a slight movement, but it was enough to make your breath catch in your throat. And then, before you could stop yourself, before you could even process what was happening, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was gentle, and slow, like neither of you wanted to let go. For a moment, it felt like everything had shifted, like time had paused and all that mattered was the contact, the connection, the warmth of his mouth against yours.

But as quickly as it started, it was over. The distance between you two was almost immediate, both of you pulling away with wide eyes and labored breaths.

You both sat there, frozen, the weight of what had just happened sinking in like a heavy stone.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, your chest tight as your heart raced, “That... that was a mistake.”

Rafe’s face was flushed, his hands running through his hair nervously. He looked just as stunned as you felt. “Yeah. A big mistake,” he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with something like disbelief.

The air around you both thickened, heavy with the tension of what had just happened. Neither of you knew how to fix it, how to go back to the way things had been just minutes before, when everything felt... simple. When you both were just two people trying to figure things out.

“I—” You cut yourself off, unable to find the words. You didn’t know what you were supposed to say, what you were supposed to feel. The kiss had been... unexpected, yet somehow, it had felt too natural to ignore.

Rafe was silent for a long moment, his eyes locked on his hands, his voice quiet when he finally spoke. “We can’t—this can’t happen again, [Y/N].” His words were final, but there was something underneath them—a hesitation, like he wasn’t entirely sure that was what he wanted to say. “I mean, we’re... we’re doing this for Willa, right? We can’t let this mess things up.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. You’re right.” But as you said the words, you felt a strange tug in your chest—something that didn’t align with the logic of what you knew was right. You didn’t know what to do with that feeling, how to even begin to unpack it.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You and Rafe were guardians to Willa. That was it. It had to be that way. This... this wasn’t supposed to complicate things.

But the air between you both remained heavy. Every word that followed felt like an attempt to fill the silence, to erase the awkwardness, but nothing worked.

You sighed, your hands pressing against your eyes. “This is just so messed up. We’ve already got enough going on, and now...” you trailed off, unsure of what to even say next. You felt disoriented, your emotions tangled.

Rafe glanced over at you, his expression shifting from shock to something softer. “I don’t know what to say either. But... we need to focus on Willa. We’re doing this for her. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded again, trying to pull yourself together, but the air between you two was thick, and no amount of words could erase the kiss, the connection that had flickered between you both.

And in the quiet that followed, you realized something: things were already complicated. Whether you admitted it or not, the line between what was necessary and what felt right was already blurred. And neither of you knew how to unblur it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The days dragged on, each one more awkward than the last. After the kiss, Rafe had retreated into himself, throwing up walls so high you could barely see over them. He was colder now—shorter with his words, sharper with his tone. The rare moments of understanding and teamwork you’d managed to build in the past months seemed to vanish overnight.

It was suffocating.

You found yourself juggling too much at once: your shifts at the café, the endless demands of parenting, and now, the tension that lingered between you and Rafe like a storm cloud. You couldn’t escape it. Every glance, every clipped response from him was a reminder of the kiss—a reminder of how things had gone wrong and how neither of you knew how to fix it.

Willa was your only reprieve. Despite the chaos, she was growing brighter by the day. Her giggles were your anchor, her tiny hands reaching for yours a reminder of why you were enduring this storm. But even she wasn’t enough to distract you from the weight of everything else.

“Rafe, can you grab her bottle from the kitchen?” you called one afternoon, cradling Willa in your arms as she fussed.

He didn’t look up from his phone. “You’ve got two legs, don’t you?” he muttered, the words slicing through the air.

You froze, biting back the sting of his tone. “I’m holding her, Rafe,” you said as evenly as you could manage.

With an exaggerated sigh, he got up and stomped into the kitchen. The bottle landed on the coffee table a moment later, the sound of it hitting the wood sharper than it needed to be.

“Thanks,” you said, though your gratitude felt hollow. He didn’t respond, disappearing into his office without another word.

This was how it was now—barbed comments, cold silences, and the ever-present feeling that you were walking on eggshells.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

One evening, after another particularly tense exchange, you sat on the edge of your bed, the weight of everything pressing down on you. The exhaustion was bone-deep. You felt like you were failing on all fronts—your job, your relationship with Rafe (if you could even call it that), and even Willa.

You couldn’t help but wonder how much longer this could go on. How long you could juggle everything without dropping one of the pieces.

But before you could dwell on it too long, there was a knock at the door.

Rafe stood there, his face unreadable. For a moment, you thought maybe he was going to apologize, maybe he was going to acknowledge how hard this had been for both of you.

Instead, he said, “We need to talk.”

You braced yourself. “About?”

His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t place—nervousness, maybe, or anger. “Ward.”

Your stomach dropped. “What about him?”

Rafe stepped into the room, his posture tense. “He’s... he’s trying to get custody of Willa.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“He’s claiming we’re unfit,” Rafe said, his jaw tightening. “Says we don’t have the resources, that we’re too young. He’s filing a petition.”

Your heart raced as you tried to process the information. Ward Cameron, the man who had emotionally scarred his children, who had driven a wedge into their family with his manipulations, was trying to take Willa away?

“He can’t—he can’t do this,” you said, your voice shaking with anger. “He’s not fit to take care of her! What about everything he did to you? To Sarah?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, a mixture of fear and fury flashing across his face. “None of that matters to him. He doesn’t care about her—he just wants control.”

The room felt smaller, the air heavier. You couldn’t lose Willa. Not to Ward. Not after everything you’d fought for, everything Sarah and John B. had wanted for her.

“What do we do?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Rafe looked at you, and for the first time in weeks, the coldness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something raw and real. “We fight him,” he said firmly. “We don’t let him win.”

But as he said the words, the doubt in his voice betrayed him. Because deep down, you both knew that Ward Cameron wasn’t a man who fought fair. And the thought of what he might do to get his way sent a chill down your spine.

The battle for Willa had just begun, and it was about to shake everything you thought you knew.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #obx x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron request #rafe cameron season 4 #drew starkey fanfiction #lifeasweknowit

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 4 months ago

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hello! we are IGNORING that this is almost a whole year late to last year's steddiemas, and we are pretending that i am super awesome at writing things on time! (but i think this the first time i'm on time to a lex challenge lmao)

@steddiemas Day 30 - "I love seeing you flustered, it's cute." AND @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six -ber Month Challenge - "You got me this?"

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,875 | rated: M | on AO3: this year

Eddie’s hot on his heels as they swing through Steve’s bedroom door, the former pressing the latter back into it once closed and, surprisingly, doesn’t go for a kiss. Eddie presses close, slotting a thigh between Steve’s, then leans in, eyes closed, to gently drag his nose along the shape of Steve’s.

Steve practically melts.

“Hey big boy,” Eddie whispers

Steve hums, pushing one leg just a bit higher between Eddie’s, feeling the not so insubstantial thickness there. “Hey yourself..”

That pulls a laugh from Eddie, and he opens his eyes. The already dark chocolate of them seem darker in the low light coming from the bedside lamp Steve is suddenly glad he forgot to switch off earlier tonight.

They look at each other for a moment, each of them taking in the other. Then they break out in laughs, pulling together again with a sigh (from which of the two is unknown).

Lips locked and moving steadily together, Steve nudges Eddie back from the door.

Surprisingly, he moves easily, as if he’s not quite aware of moving. That is, until, just before Steve goes to push Eddie down onto his bed, Eddie spins them and pushes Steve back instead.

He shuffles backward up the mattress, awkwardly pulling the pillow up from under him while Eddie watches, amused.

“Good?” he asks when Steve finally leans back against the headboard.

Steve huffs a laugh, rolls his eyes, “Yeah Eddie, I’m good.”

“Good.” Eddie nods, then takes a step backward and launches himself onto Steve.

He lands, bony and uncoordinated, between Steve’s legs with an ‘Oof’.

Steve too, gets the breath knocked out from under him. “Was that really necessary?” he wheezes.

“Absolutely.” Eddie wheezes in return, “Now, where were we?” He starts to get his arms under himself, seeming to struggle pushing up off the squashy mattress.

“Before you tried to kill us both?”

He pushes into Steve further, his hips aligning properly this time, and draping his upper body over Steve’s. “Precisely.”

Eddie lowers his face to Steve’s again and all the sarcastic retorts are flushed from his brain.

After a few minutes and also no time at all, Eddie pulls back enough to change position.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His lips are hot where they lazily push and drag along the skin where his jaw meets neck.

“Want you,” Steve manages in response, not quite the full response he’d be trying for.

He can feel Eddie’s smile against his skin. “Y’have me,”

“Want you to fuck me.”

The sound Eddie makes sounds as if it was punched out of him, but he manages to say “Can’t.”

A rock thuds into Steve’s stomach. “Huh?”

“I mean,” another open-mouthed kiss is pressed to his neck, “We can't really go any farther,”

Eddie’s continued ministrations make it hard to think, but Steve manages a breathy “We can't?”

Lips leave the meat of his neck with a final wet kiss, then Eddie’s locking eyes with him again, “Not until we get some lube. I may be less experienced than you, Stevie, but I at least know that much.”

Steve blinks at him in surprise, thoughts swirling in his head and behind his lips about that revelation, but pushes it down, instead twisting for the bedside drawer. He finds what he’s looking for in only a couple practiced swipes. “Here.”

Eddie's jaw drops, grasping the bottle of lube in his palm “You just…have? This?

“Well, yeah.”

“Why??”

Steve shrugs, “I've kept it on hand ever since Carol, Tommy, and I would— you know what? It doesn't matter; now, you gonna ruin me with that monster of yours, or what?”

Eddie blinks at him this time, then shakes his head as if clearing away a thought.

”Sure sweetheart,” he kisses Steve again, “Though I’m kinda pissed I’m not gonna be the first one in that pretty ass of yours.”

Steve sucks Eddie’s lower lip into his mouth and bites at it as Eddie pulls back, “Tommy never— you’ll be the first.”

Eddie stares down at him, and Steve watches the color flood into his cheeks as his expression shifts from confusion to cockiness. “Well then,” he tosses the bottle up and catches it again with fervor, grinning almost giddily, “Your wish is my command; But first..” He leans back in and kisses him again, putting the bottle back onto the nightstand.

Steve laughs when Eddie pulls back to get at the other side of his neck. “You–hah– like kissing, Munson?”

“Like kissing you.” He mumbles against Steve’s adam’s apple, “Love seeing you flustered. It’s cute.” He leans up then, looking Steve in the face, “But don’t call me Munson when I’m about to go down on you.”

“You are?”

Eddie just grins and sits back, tugging at the waistband of Steve’s sweatpants.

-x-

Having worked through the previous night on Steve’s jacket, having worked over Steve all evening, Eddie’s beat (hah) by the time his and Steve’s breaths finally slow late that night. Even with the good chunk of hours he slept through that morning.

And now, as he lays boneless on Steve’s chest, he sleepily blinks out at the snowflakes filtering past Steve’s window.

He tracks the path of one clump from where it seemingly appears out of nowhere as it passes into the low light coming from the bedside lamp, all the way down to where it lands on the strip of the stuff accumulating on the sill.

Two, three more times he does this, finally stirring to look up at Steve.

His hair is a sweaty mess, drying plastered to his forehead, floating above the pillowcase with the static, sticking straight up into the air…

“Your hair’s a mess.”

Steve’s blissful expression crinkles up in laughter, he looks down at Eddie in return, eyes flicking all over his own face and hair, “Yours is worse.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Eddie hums, rests his chin on Steve’s chest, “We should probably take a shower before we fall asleep.”

Steve, whose eyes had stayed shut on his last blink, opens his eyes with an unconcerned hum. “Probably.”

Neither make any sort of move to get up for a few more minutes; Steve’s hand does, however, start to trace a figure eight onto the skin of Eddie’s back.

“Hmmmokay, okay, I seriously almost fell asleep that time.” Steve finally says, startling Eddie out of the doze he’d somehow fell into, “Let’s go, shower time.”

Slowly, sleepily, they shower; both their hands end up wandering over the other, Steve winning out on getting his hand around them both for one more tally for the night, and are back in bed, and clean, another five minutes later.

The next morning, they wake up slowly, stirring, then fully rising after a heated, morning breath riddled, makeout session.

“No, really Ed, we should— you should get going, isn’t Wayne going to be up soon?”

Not missing that slip, but choosing to ignore it for now, Eddie squints playfully up at Steve as he pushes up off the bed and towards his dresser, “You want me outta here that bad, Stevie? Got your other boyfriend coming over soon?”

Steve shakes his head, closing the drawer he’d been rifling through and turning back around to face him. “Yeah Ed, I’ve got a full roster of Christmas blowjobs to hand out today, so..” he makes a shoo-ing motion at him, then pulls his shirt on over his slept-with-it-wet bed head.

Eddie laughs, pushing up to sit in the center of the bed, “Would you like to come over for cinnamon rolls, Stevie?”

Steve waves him off immediately, “No, no, You have a good day with Wayne, Ed, but,” He shuffles over to his desk, reaches between it and his bedframe, and comes back with a small rectangular box, wrapped in a plaid paper that, if he tested it, Eddie was sure matched the pattern of the ribbon on the mantle. “You have to bring this to Wayne.”

Eddie takes a moment to revel in the fact that Steve got his uncle a Christmas present, that his boyfriend Steve got his uncle a Christmas present, he shakes his head, shuffling to the edge of the bed, “No can do, Stevie,” he says as he stands, “Munson rule, you bought it, you gift it.”

-x-

“We’re home!” Eddie yells as soon as the door is open, pulling Steve inside then letting his hand go to greet Wayne in the kitchen with a hug.

Steve takes the moment to put his box under the Munson’s tree in the corner, short and twinkling softly, a modest and lovingly wrapped pile of other gifts taunting him under the colored panels of Sunday comics.

The box is shoved behind the next biggest box, and he’s standing again before Wayne and Eddie have even released the other, “Merry Christmas old man, our rolls ready yet?”

“Y’know, I remind myself every day how much I love ya.” Eddie grins at his uncle, and Steve can’t decide if he picked up on the jab or not. “And yes, you ungrateful little shit, the rolls are almost done.”

His mustache remains curved up as he shakes his head fondly and turns back to the oven.

“Great! By the way, Steve’s here.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that. How’s it goin’ Steve?”

“I’m great, thanks. Thanks for having me over, Eddie offered and said you wouldn’t mind…?”

Wayne looks up at him then, ducking to peer through the gap between the cabinets and counter of the peninsula. “Of course I don’t, boy, you crazy? It’s Christmas!”

“Stevie here said he ‘Didn’t want to intrude.’.” Eddie adds unhelpfully, sucking something off his finger.

“No intrusion here Steve, you know you’re always welc— Theodore Munson you keep your fingers outta that frosting!”

Steve snorts out an ugly laugh, “Theodore?”

Wayne looks between Eddie (still frozen with his finger in his mouth), and Steve, who finally feels like he can wander to the end of the counter. “You mean you’ve been goin’ on and on about this boy for months, years now, and he never knew your name’s Theodore?”

Wayne’s eyes are positively glowing with mischief.

Eddie finally unfreezes, “Yeah, well, Steve’s middle name is Otis. Otis! Can you believe that?”

Steve only shrugs, unphased by this transgression (surely infuriatingly to Eddie), “I was named after my Grandpa.”

“No shit? So was Teddy.”

Steve barely contains his glee, “Oh cool, why didn’t you tell me, Teddy?”

“I hate you both so much.” Eddie grumbles, then stalks off down the hall.

“Awe, c’mon teddy, where’re you going?” Steve teases more, following Eddie to his room.

“I’m changing into my PJs, leave me alone!” he calls back.

Steve leans in the doorway and watches Eddie shed his vest and jacket, his shirt, all before he even goes to his dresser for a pair of sweats.

He tosses a pair of lounge pants at Steve, and continues to scowl as he sheds his jeans.

“You’re not mad for real, are you?”

“No,” he sighs, pulling up the sweats, “Just mourning the loss of my final secret.”

“Aww,” Steve coos teasingly, tossing his lended pants onto Eddie’s mattress and moving forward to cup Eddie’s face, “You gonna make it,” he pauses, “Teddy bear?”

Eddie, who had started to melt into the hold, scoffs, and pushes him off, but seemingly can’t help but laugh, “You’re the worst person in the whole world.”

“Yeah, well, you still love me.” Steve says, shrugging as he goes back for his lended comfy pants.

He’s done toeing off his shoes and is about to start unbuckling his belt when Eddie says, “Yeah, I think I do.”

It was said so quietly, and just as the timer in the kitchen goes off, so it takes Steve all the way until his belt, button, and fly are completely undone before he registers what Eddie had said..

And what he said.

His hands drop from his jeans down to his sides. He turns to face Eddie again.

“You do?”

Eddie nods, and Steve’s jeans unceremoniously fall to his ankles.

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to ugly laugh, though he clamps his hand over his mouth in glee to stop it.

Steve opens his mouth to say something, when Wayne’s voice calls down the hall and it breaks through his daze.

“Hands better be stayin’ above the waist down there!”

Eddie laughs again, Steve finally kicks his jeans off his feet. His face is broiling.

“Yeah Wayne, just changing!” Eddie calls back.

“Well hurry it up, rolls are all ready to go.”

“Be there in a sec.”

Steve finally finishes pulling on his new pants, tying them tight at the waist, “Wayne knows?” he whispers to Eddie.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, of course he does.” he waves off Steve’s worries and picks up his t-shirt, pulling it on over his head, “Now c’mon, I’m starving.”

“Hey, wait,” Steve catches him in the doorway and presses a kiss to his lips, “I love you too.”

Twenty minutes later, with their stomachs full and teeth aching, the three shuffle into the living room from the Munsons’ little table.

“Alright’ who’s first?”

“Steve!” Eddie says at the same time Steve says “Eddie!”

Wayne only shrugs, “Sounds good to me, Ed, yours is that one covered in Garf, Steve, yours is that smaller rectangle one.”

Somehow, Eddie’s already got his half torn open by time he hands Steve his gift.

“Wayne, you didn’t have to–”

“Oh sick! I needed a new pair of these,” Eddie exclaims, pulling a bright white sneaker from the box in his lap, “Thanks Wayne!”

Newsprint crinkles as Eddie shifts the box around to grab the only remaining newspaper-wrapped box and tossing it to Wayne.

“Can’t say I never get you anything,”

Wayne tears into his package, and soon, is lifting out a fur-lined bomber hat. “This is great, thanks kiddo,” He clasps the earflaps over the leather crown of the head and tugs it on.

“Yeah, and it cost me a pretty penny,” Eddie teases, as he pulls the laces out of his new, identical to his well-worn ones by the door, shoes. “So you better wear it.”

“Whattya mean! I’m wearin’ it right now!”

Steve leaves them to their playful jabs, and starts tearing open the newspaper on his own gift.

He gets it open, and his eyes widen. He immediately flips over the wrappings unnecessarily, he can tell they are the funnies from here.

He stares down at the box in his hands, and laughs. Eddie pauses in his re-lacing efforts to look up at the sound.

“Hope that means you like ‘em.” Wayne says, and, still grinning, Steve looks up at him. While he was stuck figuring out his present, it seems Eddie’s taken it upon himself to toss his balled newspaper wrappings and the paper wrappings from his shoebox into Wayne’s lap. “Now I know it’s new and all, but sue me for gettin’ sappy about you boys havin’ Christmases all on your own,” he shrugs, “Thought you’d want a couple’a traditional Munson mugs to startcha off.”

Steve’s stomach flips at the implication and, still smiling (and with his hands now free of the box of two matching mugs as Eddie had taken it from him to examine), Steve stands, grabs Wayne’s present, and passes it to him.

“You got me this?” Wayne asks incredulously, “You spoil me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Just open it.”

Wayne’s only torn off one corner when he bursts out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Eddie asks, trying to see what’s under the paper.

“Now I know this is new and all,” Steve teases, putting on a horrible impression of Wayne’s half-lost accent, “But I thought you’d want some traditional Munson mugs.”

This only makes Wayne laugh harder, his recliner shakes with it.

“What? Someone tell me what’s going on!”

“Oh that’s hilarious,” Wayne wheezes, coming down from his fit with a few wayward giggles, and finishes tearing off the paper.. from an identical set of two Christmas-themed mugs he’d just gifted Steve.

Eddie starts to laugh, pulling both Steve and Wayne into another bout each, “Well, I guess we’ll never have a shortage of Christmas mugs.” Eddie says, taking the second box from Wayne’s armrest. “You better use them whenever we can’t make it back home for the holidays, old man.”

Steve’s stomach flips again at the thought of he and Eddie together this year and all the years to come.

“‘Course I will, you see any other Christmassy mugs hangin’ around here?” Waye says, gesturing around to his zillion other cups, “You just gotta use the other whenever you can.”

Wayne’s true to his word, always assuring them over the phone that he’s got his mug out whenever they get stuck up in Chicago, out in Los Angeles, complaining that “My sleigh is lookin’ a little worse for wear.” every time.

And when, only a couple handfuls of too few years later when Steve and Eddie pull out their set of three matching Christmas mugs the year after Wayne is gone, it makes them laugh before anything else.

“He’s got his, don’t worry Teddy.”

“I know he does,” Eddie murmurs, looking down at the mug in his hand, then snorts a laugh, “That sleigh’s toast by now.”

i'm laughing at the fact this started smutty and ended sad lmao

i found two boxes of these mugs from the 80s in oct last year and had always planned them to be written in as an accidental double gift between steve and wayne

also, you will pull Theodore "Eddie/Teddy" Munson from my cold dead hands

ALSO ALSO special shoutout to @steddiehasmywholeheart who has been reading this today and sending me notifs with a comment on each chap as they do that made me say 'you know what, i need to finish this. today. as a special surprise for them specifically.'

find me on ko-fi! ☕

#spicysixbermonthchallenge #steddiemas #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #the munsons my beloveds #noelle writes

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cmdrfupa · 8 months ago

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“Perfect match.” Was all Shoko could say before she introduced you to Kento upon his return to the world of sorcery. It was always no marriage until he retired from his role and Nanami knew he should’ve kept his word. But you were a welcomed change to his always-exhausted mental and a challenge to his monotonous life. He just wishes he could pinpoint where it went wrong.

Hello! Refer here for information about this ongoing series! I appreciate you reading and sharing! I hope you enjoy ✨

REFORM

We're only a train ride away. Love you, and come to us anytime.- Iori

You read the attached card to the cotton percale duvet set Utahime and Shoko got you months ago. They never saw the light of day during your separate room trial. Nanami and you seemed to find yourself in the comfort of each other's arms against your therapist's better judgment every time.

The room echoed as you shuffled around, throwing the rest of your undergarments in your duffel. The new room smell had been gradually overtaken in the past few weeks by the orchid-scented soy wax candle you had treasured in your once-shared bedroom.

"It is important to maintain physical and emotional boundaries while you sort through your emotions."

Your brain was buzzing with your therapist's words as you rechecked the dresser's drawers for good measure.

You were used to the house being cold, as you and Nanami agreed that anything above 68 degrees was inhumane. But the lack of furniture in the guest bedroom brought it to a bone-chilling cold.

Air humidifier quietly hummed in the distant corner, the last bag of belongings on your shoulder as you walked down the hall one more time.

"Ken?" The living room showed no signs of him, and his keys were gone.

Was probably for the best he wasn’t there.

You left the note against a short glass on the wet bar in den. “Can’t say he didn’t see it if it’s sitting here.”

No argument. No tempting to keep you home.

You were gone.

Divorce was going to be your demand until your mother said that was too harsh for a couple who hadn't tried counseling yet. Initially, you and Nanami decided on therapy and a few more date nights.

After the first two sessions, you both promised to make the pertinent changes to save your marriage. You almost had a bit of faith for a while as you made minor adjustments per your therapist's suggestion. But that never occurred from his end.

You asked for a separation that would become legal once you figured out the following steps: living arrangements or possibly going back to your sorcerer clan and training whoever Gojo sent to you. Your options were not only limited but far more depressing than you realized. That night, Kento watched you move your belongings to the guest bedroom, giving up on making things right far too soon.

Living in the same home but being separated created a surreal and often uncomfortable atmosphere Nanami didn't expect.

After six years of marriage, a sense of familiarity came with your daily routine—the smell of Chickory coffee brewing promptly at 6:30 as you hummed your gentle tunes, precisely putting on your makeup was his wake-up call. However, the feeling of being disconnected and distant became far more prominent when he reached over, and only a decorative pillow was in your place. Your hums were too far away to enjoy. Another rough morning. He sat on the side of the bed, gruffing as he scooted his feet into the slippers.

The sleep wore off as he walked towards the kitchen, the bright, smelling coffee filling his nostrils with each slothful step. As he hit the threshold, your familiar happy hum hit his ears. With your back to him, you stood there tasting your coffee, your robe hanging off your shoulders, your scarf wrapped to protect your hair loosely held on. "Mm. Just a little more creamer."

"Think of agreeing on scheduled times to use spaces like the kitchen. They can still make enough coffee for both of you if they like, but allow the other person time to make their coffee and leave the kitchen before you go to make yours."

The therapist gave the piss poor idea, and you ran with it. A stranger telling you what needs to be done regarding your marriage. And yet he did it because he wanted to make anything work with you, even if he genuinely thought it was a waste. You knew him; you knew everything about him. You'd known him at his worst and wanted marriage counseling to help pick apart something good from Kento's perspective.

He turned and stood in the hallway, putting himself directly in line with you. His heart ached, wishing he could steal a kiss and wrap himself around you the same way he had for years.

_____________________

The ticking clock filled your den's silence as you and Kento took a break from verbally jousting for the fourth time that week.

He'd come home after not calling you back much earlier in the day. You’d heard about a special grade curse roaming between the school and the local city hall he volunteered to see about. No communication, no sign of remorse.

"We've made strides." Kento slumped back into the chair, watching how your leg shook with each empty moment he created. "I'm home more; only every other Saturday is mandatory now, and we've been going to counseling. Is this not enough for you? Am I the only one expected to change?"

"We've gone to two sessions. Which the first you left early and the second you showed up in the last 15 minutes." Patience had run thin and the grace you were always willing to extend had worn. "You avoid discussing scheduling the next one even when its a good day for you. I have done everything but change my fucking first name for the sake of trying, Kento."

Kento swirled the bourbon absentmindedly. The conversation was going in circles yet again. "I have changed everything you've complained about. I asked what you needed from me as your husband, and you gave me nothing to work with other than you want to know how I'm feeling. Honey. I'm fucking tired is how I’m feeling and this isn’t helping. What's missing?"

You could only muster a laugh to keep the flood of tears from invading. "I feel like I'm forcing you to tell me anything more than half the time, Ken. Like I only get parts of you while everyone else gets all of you. Do I not deserve that? What's changed? What are we doing?"

His rich eyes found yours for a quick moment. "We're doing what you've been begging me to do. We're talking now."

—————————

"Well fuck, you said that? No wonder she's staying with Utahime."

A bitter taste punched the back of Nanami's throat before he looked over in Gojo's direction.

It had been four months since that night, and he'd made it everyone's problem since. More annoyed than usual at work, Nanami had a quicker temper towards all staff and was facing his hell going back to an empty house night after night.

"Despite me being the hottest, most desired person you've known since high school-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Let me finish, Nanami." Gojo sipped his piña colada and licked his lips in the most bothersome manner possible. "Despite being gorgeous and desired, I am also very knowledgeable about relationships and everyone else's business."

From the end of the bar, Kento signaled for another whiskey sour.

"Alright. Tell me what you've perceived, six eyes."

Gojo sat up straight on the bar stool as if he had an audience to entertain. "Your wife often called me when she couldn't contact you. She called me asking if I'd heard from you when you would go on missions alone. I was giving her status updates on you. Why?"

Celebratory sounds filled the bar as the college students slammed another round of shots in the brightly lit booth in the corner.

The ring on Kentos' finger suddenly felt five sizes too small.

"Utahime, of all people, called me when you weren't answering because she showed up scared shitless." boisterous cheers filled the space as someone named Jai chugged a pint down.

"Your partner got on a 3 1/2 hour train ride to Kyoto when she didn't hear from you. When were you upset about seeing me at your house after midnight that night? I was there because I happily drove over 6 hours back and forth to get your wife."

"Enough, Gojo," the drinks seemed weaker as he downed this one in a single gulp before getting the barkeep's attention. "Another one, please."

Gojo knew he had a few more buttons to press before he could stop. "The day after her birthday, she called Shoko and started crying. Sobbing, really." slurping the last remnants of his colada, Gojo sighed heavily.

"Gojo." Nanami gripped the glass before him, muttering his name.

"Upset that you found something to nitpick before completely shutting her out. You're a real piece of work, you know."

Gojo had no time to move before Kento grabbed him by the collar.

"If I shove the stem of this glass through your ears, how far do you think it'll go?"

"Someone's touchy, Nami." The bar quieted by a few decibels as nearby patrons watched Nanami hold Gojo by his neck. "Those whiskey sours are starting to get to that blonde head of yours." Gojo's cheeky tone was like that of a toddler who had gotten someone in trouble.

Gojo cheesed as Kento let go of his collar.

Nanami downed the remainder of his drink, and the bartender wasted no time making his next one.

"Wanna talk now instead of making empty threats?" Gojo drank a sip of water before licking the sugary rim of his glass.

"I fucked up, Gojo." He was left with this: a late Saturday evening at a college bar, talking to Satoru about his failing marriage. Patting his breast pocket, Nanami seethed at the words written on the note you left him. "She said she doesn't recognize her Kento. That I'ma ghost of him or whatever."

Part of Gojo hated seeing Nanami sulking this way. Sure, they never saw eye to eye for years, but you were a common factor in their lives.

A positive one. And Nanami knew just as well as Gojo that they were the two men who knew you best.

You were hurting, but so was Nanami. And Gojo knew why.

"Nanami. Talk with your wife."

"We talked every damn day."

"No. You talk to her like she’s some intern you have a grudge against. It would help if you talked with her like a man who's afraid of losing his wife."

"How the fuck do you know so much about this?" Nanami managed to squint, his vision officially tanking as Gojo became a slightly hazy figure of himself.

"Elle magazine talks about shitty husbands pretty frequently. I read it often and can confidently say you aren't alone in the shitty husband community."

Sleep wasn't coming easy for you. You tossed around for 3 hours before getting up to sit out on the balcony, hoping the late-night breezes would calm you. The clouds broke sparingly, allowing the moon to peek through while you watched the stars try to shimmer through the thick blankets.

Four months of staying at Utahime's old home back in Kyoto led you to return to Tokyo because you knew putting off the divorce was doing more harm than good. You weren't running away. You just needed a break from seeing him in every hallway or advisory meeting.

With some help from Gojo, you hired a great lawyer who drew up the divorce papers within 12 hours, giving you a chance to serve them yourself when you stopped thinking about how the opportunity to do it would come up.

Feeling slightly more relaxed, you shuffled back in, locking up until a recognizable tone struck your ears.

"It's your husband. Please open the door," A familiar voice groaned from the other side of the door.

"Please. Gojo told me you were back in town staying with Shoko." His words slurred as he pounded on the door. The neighbors were definitely not pleased to hear a drunken ruckus this late.

"I need to see you. I need you." A thud got you to move swiftly to the door, opening it to find Kento with his forehead against the wall next to it. "Thank fuck." He lifted his head slowly as if it weighed more than the earth.

"What are you doing here? Did you drive?" The warm air of the hallway rushed into the condo as you stood in the doorway.

He was like a lost puppy. Warm eyes low like he couldn't look at you without guilt eating him alive. "No. No no. Gojo got me a cab." You saw blood on his hand as he brought his phone to your face. "Can you tell him I made it safely?"

Gojo got him a cab. Here. You'd be talking to him about this stunt later.

"Ken, you're bleeding."

"It's just a small scratch. It'll be fine."

Come in, and I'll wake Shoko to look at it."

"She already hates me for being a shit husband to you." The gash in his palm wasn't urgent, but the amount of blood on his arms showed it still needed attention. He finally dared to look you in the eyes as he spoke, "I'm fine."

"Can you fucking stop and let me help?" You tried hiding your longing behind your voice's assertion, but that didn't escape him. He couldn't stop trying to push you further away. Distance, at this point, felt like the only solution.

"I'm fine. Stop." The firmness in his voice forced you to take half a step back.

This wasn't a buzz from a few drinks with Shoko after work; this was Kento hammered, which was hard to get to but possible.

This state of drunkenness only happened once, and it was after being released from the hospital post-Shibuya. You watched him drink himself to sleep for months, telling yourself everyone has a vice while trying to have understanding. But it became too much for you and everyone close. Nanami's drinking was getting unmanageable yet again.

You grabbed his uninjured hand and led him into the apartment. Inert moonlight streamed across the room, and the dimly lit recessed lights were your only lighting source. You placed him in front of the kitchen sink, letting the water run over the wound. "Stand here, don't move your hand from under the water, and don't talk."

He watched you march away to rustle through the guest bathroom cabinet before emerging with a first aid kit. Without uttering a word, you stood beside him, watching the pinkish-red water circle down the drain until it cleared.

Gently patting his hand dry with gauze before spraying saline solution around the wound, you broke the silence. "How did you cut your hand."

A deep breath that smelt of pure alcohol filled the gap between you. "Grabbed a broken glass at the bar." hiccuping, Kento pressed up against the counter. "Broke it after some guy said Gojo and I were a cute couple."

Surely, you misheard him. "What? You tried to stab him?"

Kento smirked as he watched your bewildered eyes. "I'm not one for stabbing. You know I'm more of a slashing type of man, baby."

It's like the wires in your mind got sewn together. The tired smile growing on your face soothed that itch Nanami had for weeks. "I suppose."

Nanami scanned your arms and shoulders as you remained in close contact with his left side. He knew your skin was just as soft as it was months ago. Supple and warm when he would run his knuckles across your thighs during his evening unwind. A dull pain from the cold feeling of tweezers in his hand brought him back. "Shit." grunting through the uncomfortable feeling.

Small glass fragments clanged into the dish as you dropped it. "None of the pieces got too deep into the wound."

As you finished cleaning the wound, a few drops of blood surfaced. You quickly grabbed another clean gauze, tenderly covering the wound before applying gentle pressure to Nanami's palm. His fingers instinctively gripped around your hand as if holding on to you would make sure you wouldn't vanish from his side.

The close proximity made your throat dry as you dried the wound again, patting it more than necessary to avoid his knowing gaze. "Almost done." You opened the sterile pad and placed it on his wound, holding it down while you tried unraveling the rolled bandage with the chin and hand combo.

He watched you intently, knowing that all he needed was for you to look at him. He was burning to see a sign that you still hadn't totally given up on him. Kento needed to know he had someone with his best interest at heart, even if he couldn't be vulnerable without being an intoxicated mess.

You carefully tore the bandage and expertly wrapped it around his hand before tying it off. "And there we go." Trying to prolong the cleanup only made the air heavy while Kento watched you closely. For every two steps you took, he took four to stay close to you. "Are you close enough?" the heat from his upper body radiated on your back as you wiped the counter down. "Unfortunately, no. I'd rather be under your skin and inside of you, but I'm trying to work on earning that privilege back." "Kento." "Yes, my love?" Any attempt at a casual facade was gone, unable to shake the emotions that threatened to consume you both. "You can take the guest bedroom, and I'll take the couch. It's too late for you to go anywhere." Kento closed in a few inches. "We could both sleep in the guest bed. Ample space, no?" The low lights in the kitchen cast a warm, intimate glow over the room, and you became keenly aware of the scent of whiskey and his Initio Phsychadelic Love cologne as you moved closer. "Nothing more than sleeping." "Nothing more than sleeping. What else would we do in bed?"

There would always be a chance of falling back into the same routine. Apologies, sex that silenced the blaring alarms in your mind, a week of cohabitating in peace before the cycle of low-effort communication and quiet dinners would resurface. But, you allowed the only intimacy you yearned for the last month.

His arms surround you like a tight-fitting sweater taking you in. His arms were your shelter, and your heartbeat motivated him to live. You'd settled into the queen-sized bed after both successfully fighting off very apparent sexual tension marinating between you both. His lips traveled across your chest. Faint kisses left on every available part of your skin as you combed through his light locks. "I want to go back to therapy. I promise I'll be open and try." The feeling of his stubble-covered chin rested on your sternum. Looking down to meet those glossy brown eyes that showed exhaustion and the early stages of sobering up.

"I want honesty. No half-ass truths while there, Kento." "No half-ass truths from me as long as you are transparent about your thoughts. You can't HR yourself out of sharing your raw thoughts." Sticking your pinky out, you waited for Kento to link his. No hesitation, he locked his pinky around yours.

"We'll make it work. I swear on my life.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami x y/n #nanami kento au #Nanami Kento #kento x y/n #jjk nanami #jjk hiromi #nanami x you #jjk au #jjk angst #lu.logs

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kinardsevan · 9 months ago

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30 day fluff challenge: day one

“you’re my new pillow”

Tommy glances over at Evan as he shifts on the couch, a small smirk playing on his face.

“You know you didn’t have to go on that hike with us,” Tommy tells him softly, stretching his arm out across the back of the couch. He brushes his hand down the back of Evan’s skull, and Evan leans into it instinctively, letting out a soft sigh.

“I wanted to go,” Evan replies, turning his head towards Tommy. His gaze drops to the Bernese mountain dog settled between them, her chin settled on Evan’s thigh. “Besides, I think she’s warming up to me.”

Tommy chuckles, rubbing a hand over the dog’s torso, in which she responds to by slapping her tail against his leg.

“Yeah, Zale’s never met a stranger she didn’t think we should become best friends with,” he replies. “Have you, baby girl?”

Her ears perk up, but otherwise she stays resting on Evan’s lap. He spends a few seconds scratching her head, but when Tommy looks over again a few minutes later in the midst of a commercial, he spots Evan’s head lolling again.

“Zale,” he commands, followed by a whistle. She stands to a attention, and then hops off the couch before moving around to Tommy’s other side, laying down next to him. He smirks and pats her on the head a few times before picking up an abandoned cow ear from the floor and passing it to her.

The entire interaction makes Evan look up. He inhales a long breath, blinking slowly a few times.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, trailing his eyes up Tommy’s body to his face. “Yesterday was rough.”

Tommy nods, stroking his thumb back and forth on the back of Evan’s head.

“Do you want to go lay down in bed,” Tommy offers. The pout that takes over Evan’s mouth makes it more than clear that he does not prefer that option. “Okay then. Do you want to cuddle?”

Weary as he is, a sleepy grin slides across Evan’s face. Tommy rolls his eyes but lets out a soft chuckle.

“Alright.”

He shifts on the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows from the chair next to him to settle against the arm of the couch. Evan stands, stretching as he does, and watches as Tommy leans back on the couch so that he’s laying down. Once he’s settled, he reaches for Evan’s hand and gives a gentle tug. Evan stares at down at him for a beat with those adoring eyes before he slots a knee between Tommy’s legs. He tries to come down slowly, but Tommy grabs his bicep and yanks him down in a quick tug, knocking the air out of both of them a little bit.

“Just get comfortable,” Tommy orders him, but in a caring tone. Evan shuffles a bit against him, settling a little further down so that his head is resting directly over Tommy’s heart on his chest. Once he’s done moving around, Tommy’s hand slides back into his hair, massaging his scalp gently. Evan sighs softly, and Tommy can feel his breathing deepen as he fades somewhere between sleep and awake.

“Better,” he asks when the romcom they’ve been watching comes back on. It’s When Harry Met Sally, which Evan insists is a personal favorite of his. Tommy still prefers Love Actually, but he can see the subtle similarities between the two films.

“You’re my new pillow,” Evan mutters, nuzzling against Tommy’s chest for a beat before he settles again. “Who knew a toned chest could be this comfortable.”

Tommy chuckles, shaking his head at Evan settled on top of him.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he murmurs back to him, lifting his head to press a kiss into Evan’s scalp. Evan sighs again, and Tommy returns his attention back to the tv, still absentmindedly moving his fingers over Evan’s head.

He can feel when Evan finally falls asleep, completely sinking into him, one hand wrapped around Tommy’s shoulder on the inside of the couch as the other hangs towards the floor. Tommy reaches down and lifts it up, kisses Evan’s fingers before resting his hand on his chest. Evan snuffles in his sleep, flexes his fingers and then encases a fist around Tommy’s shirt.

Still, if Evan finds him to be a pillow, Tommy is pretty sure there’s not a weighted blanket on the market that could match his boyfriend. The warmth and weight of Evan is enough to have him lulling down before long, satisfied to just relish in this moment, curled up on the couch with his beautiful boy on a Saturday afternoon.

#bucktommy mini #mini fic #30 day fluff challenge #so much sweetness #tevan #kinley #firepilot #firebeast #evan buckley x tommy kinard #tommy x buck #the ally and the beast

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theanimeroom · 1 year ago

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how would kazutora survive nnn 👀

NSFW UNDER THE CUT || MINORS DNI

NOVEMBER 1ST, 2023 || 11:42AM

NNN CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

i'm sorry, but this dude is a loser in the best possible way. kazutora hanemiya is someone with little to no self-control, and i think that is a fact everyone knows. he was always a needy person, especially when it came to his friends. he would go out of his way for their attention and praise, even if it meant resorting to less... ethical methods.

you already knew that kazutora would have a difficult time making it through the challenge, as he was your obsessive boy who could never seem to keep his hands off of you. you would have loved to say you at least thought he would make it past the first week, but you didn't even have that much faith in the man to make that promise (and be grateful that you didn't, you almost owed baji 20 bucks for that bet).

when you had suggested the idea at first, you had just wanted to see his reaction. you didn't think that the moment the words left your mouth, he would immediately agree without even considering the longevity of it.

"a month? that's not that bad. if my baby wants to do it, then what reason do I have to say no?" he chirped, the brightest and happiest smile on his face. initially, you were ready to remind him that a month was in fact 30 days and that he could barely survive 15 minutes without trying to put his dick in your mouth because he "couldn't hold it anymore". but then you quickly remembered that the man is a simp, and you should have known that the moment you expressed your want for something, there was no way he could deny you.

despite that, you both joined the challenge on the first day of november, hoping that the three rounds you had last night would be enough to hold you both over for the next 30 days.

the next morning you woke up with a small moan, eyes finally peeling themselves open enough to see the sun shining through your window, alerting you to finally wake up and drag yourself out of bed. you reached behind you as you did every morning, feeling the strands of kazutora's hair draping over his face. had he not hummed pleasantly at the feeling of your fingers in his hair, you would have assumed that the man was still sleeping, his arm wrapped around your waist tightening its grip.

"good morning kazu," you spoke softly, voice still a bit raspy from sleep. he responded with a couple taps on your tummy, something he always did when he was too sleepy to actually give a verbal response. you smiled softly, shuffling more under the covers as you cuddled against his chest. you shut your eyes again, letting yourself revel in a few more minutes of sleep before deciding to get ready for the day ahead of you. you lay in silence for all of 10 minutes before you felt a rough hand caressing your stomach again, the light touch making you jerk a bit as you held in a laugh. when he did it again you giggled, jerking your hips back as you ran away from his touch. "baby, that tickles."

"sorry..." he grumbled, voice rumbling so deep that you nearly felt it in your own chest. he moved his hand from your stomach and chose instead to run it down the length of your leg, stopping momentarily to grab the underside of your knee. "you're just so soft..."

when his sentence had finished your leg was being lifted, kazutora resting the limb on his own, which he'd so precariously placed between yours. you didn't think much of it until the skin of kazutora's thigh was being pushed into your mound, a heavy gasp escaping you as the pressure made your stomach turn.

"so soft," he said again, this time crystal clear as his hand continued to trace every inch of exposed skin on your body. you only truly reacted when his hand slipped into your shirt, trapping one of your breasts between his fingers. he fondled the mass, relishing in the way your body reacted to his ministrations. your hips ground against his thigh, the heat in your stomach spreading as the man pinched your nipple softly. "and pliant."

"kazu..." you warned, although it sounded more like a plea for more in his ears than anything else. "we can't."

the man behind you whined, only playing with your tits more feverously at your rejection. "why? don't we always have sex in the morning?"

his voice sounded borderline distraught as you tried to remove his hand from your shirt.

"we're doing the challenge, remember? we've barely even made it 12 hours," your words made the man pout. he knew that he agreed to the challenge rather quickly, but you wouldn't actually deny him like this, would you?

"but i want you..." he pouted, sleepy hands moving once again to roam around your body. he didn't miss the way your hips never stopped grinding against his thigh, his free hand that wasn't playing in your hair moving towards his own mouth to wet his fingers before slipping them into your night shorts. a quiet moan came out of your mouth as his fingers flicked at your clit, your hand that was playing in his hair pulling at the strands harshly. "don't you want me too, baby?"

you did. you truly did want the man and honestly, with your current conditions, you didn't think that it would be that bad of an idea. you'd barely even started this challenge, so how hard would it be to just say you never even attempted at all? maybe if you just let it go this one time...

your thoughts were cut short by the feeling of kazutora's fingers sliding into your cunt, knocking the air out of you as you felt the digits curl, pressing directly into your g-spot. a curse passed your lips and it was only a moment later that you felt kazutora press against the side of your face, forcing you to look directly at him. "all you have to do is say the word. you know I can't say no to you," he purred. his bright eyes caught your attention immediately, and it was then that you knew you could never say no to him, either.

"please, kazu," you didn't hesitate before asking him, the challenge be damned. you didn't fight him as he leaned in, pressing his lips onto yours softly, a small moan slipping from the man's mouth to your own.

"more, baby!" kazutora groaned as spent no time stuffing you full of his cock the moment you asked, although you were sure it was more for him than you. your breathing was labored as you tried to find something to steady yourself, your hoisted leg and kazu's rapid thrusts almost forcing you off of the bed. you were still propped on your side, your boyfriend being more than too lazy to change positions. "fuck, keep fucking me like that."

you didn't have the time or energy to explain to him that he was the one fucking you, but let the man run his mouth regardless. this was something that you were used to already, his cries and pleas for you to do more when he was the one effectively leaving you brain dead. your hands found purchase in the sheets, holding onto them for dear life while kazutora pressed his body against yours, the warmth only inspiring the man to go harder.

"s-slow down baby..." you pleaded, feeling your body jerk with every stroke of his cock against your g-spot, your wet cunt squeezing around him so beautifully. "you're gonna...b-break me like t-this."

"let me," he demanded, holding your body still as he fucked you mercilessly. "wanna see you completely broken for me."

his words left a lingering pulse in your heat, giving way to kazutora's begging and allowing him to fuck you the way that he wanted. at your compliance the man cursed to himself, burying his head in the crook of your neck. you cried out when you felt his teeth sinking into the skin connecting your collarbone to your shoulder, sucking on the area until there was a purple mark flourishing on the surface.

if he wanted you broken, he certainly was accomplishing his mission. you could barely breathe with the way he was fucking you, your stomach clenching and cunt pulsing as you felt your orgasm coming strong.

"fuck, i wanna come inside you. let me come inside you baby?" the man asked, hand grabbing the underside of your leg and holding it upright as it started to slip. when you wordlessly nodded your head, kazutora let out a deafening groan. "thankyouthankyouthankyou-"

you barely had a second to register his gratitude before your eyes were shooting open, wide and blurry as kazu forced himself as far as he could go inside of you. the warmth that followed was enough for your body to shudder, orgasm washing over you as you only saw a white cover of bliss envelope your vision.

kazutora didn't even bother pulling out as he finally released your leg, legging your body go completely limp against the sheets. your breathing was labored and heavy, barely able to speak as you turned your head to look at the man behind you.

"do you feel bet-" you didn't even get the chance to finish your sentence as you saw kazutora with his eyes closed, chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. you couldn't stop the scoff that escaped you, a loving smile adorning your face before you laid back down and covered your exposed body with the duvet.

you were so grateful that you never accepted that bet from baji.

dont plagarize! it's not nice <3

#blues asks 💎#blues anons 💙#tokyo revengers smut #no nut november challenge!#tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x you #kazutora smut #kazutora hanemiya smut #kazutora x reader #tr kazutora #tr smut #tr kazutora smut

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col0rlord · 4 months ago

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Pool table 🎱

Jake Seresin x reader!

Summary: You like playing pool? Someone you know does too. This challenge might be a win, win for you either way you play.

~🎱🍒🍺🐆~

It was a typical Thursday at the Hard Deck around 7:30ish. Maybe a little later. You placed the pool balls in the rack, with the 8 ball right in the middle. A little warm up before the crowd came shuffling in.

There were a few older men sitting at the bar nursing their drinks. Too busy talking to one another before it was too loud to even hear the balls clinking off each other. They seemed like they were catching up and talking about the latest news in their life.

Regulars you have seen before.

Never got their names, but they know yours from Penny yelling it across the bar for you to retrieve the drink you get every time. A blue moon glass bottle.

Taking the rack away from the balls and hitting the first shot straight to the middle watching as the balls landed in their placement like popping open confetti on January 1st when the clock hit midnight. Feeling the heat from the heater roll of your neck after taking your hair and putting it in a ponytail.

Not playing anyone just practicing the hits and warming up when someone does come up and ask to play.

Warming up the little tricks you had. Put on a show for the people. They liked it. Sitting on the table and shooting from behind your back was the crowd favorite. Skipping the ball over the other and getting it in was a good one too. When you put the two together there was always someone coming up to you asking how you did that in the first place.

Slowly the bar became more alive and you weren't even halfway done with your drink yet. Downing the rest before people came over to watch you and some random play for money or anything really.

Walking to the bar to get a refill Penny looked you up and down as she was wiping a glass with a white rag she then flipped on her shoulder to rest for later use. “Y/n, those moves are going to get you in trouble one of these days.” She said as she grabbed my glass bottle, throwing it away and opening another one for me.

Shrugging at the idea of a man throwing a fit over losing to you in a game of 8 ball. “Maybe we will make the big bucks tonight. People love to see me as they try and win. I’m just too good at this shit. Nights like this seem to be busier anyways, so I came tonight instead of tomorrow night,” You told her as she placed the drink in front of you winking as you grinning knowing you are right.

“Watch out Y/n. We got some Aviators walking in soon. Might have a bit of a challenge up for you there.” She spoke out as you were walking away back to the table to finish what was going on, on the spread of balls.

Later on, around 8:30 now, you had some guy walking up to you wanting to play. This poor guy came in almost every night trying to win against you. You even went a little easy on him a few times. Trying to offer help but he always turned it down saying he ‘Could win against you without a female's help.’

We moved past that as I kept winning, he never said anything else about it after those first 4 times of me winning.

“That's game Logan.” you said bent the table over looking at him through your lashes as you hit the 8 ball into the far right pocket all the way from the other corner. Smirking as you watch it roll into the pocket. Looking back at the older ladies smoking a cigarette as they all high-fived me. Taking a swig of my beer. Feeling the condensation roll down my hands and between my fingers.

He rolled his eyes and placed the pool cue on the end of the table and walked off. The cue rolled over the edge and onto the ground with a loud clanking sound, as it tottered from the tip to the end about 3 times. The noise ended abruptly. Whipping your head around fast to watch who stopped it. You see this tall man in an Aviator uniform. Brown hair and green eyes. Face was sharp and square. Tan, buff. easy to look at. I could go on and on

“Y/n Y/l/n. heard of the name but never met in person. Saw your picture on the wall back there. I’m Lieutenant Jake Seresin. Pleasure is mine.’” Reaching his hand out for me to take it after he moved the toothpick in his mouth. Looking at you with a wink and a smirk plastered on his face. You placed your hand in his. You both shook as a greeting.

“Lieutenant?” you asked him up and down taking in the uniform and how it fitted him. Then moved your head to the side to look at the other uniformed people behind him. One wore glasses. One with his arms crossed and a shaved head, and a lady with a slick back bun.

He chuckled and looked to the right of him at the table. Then right back at you letting go of my hand walking around the table. “Want to go a round or two?” He asked, walking to the table and placing the balls back in the rack. Moving the rack around staring right in your eyes.

“Are we playing for anything or are you just testing the waters first?” You asked, walking back to the table you placed your cue to lean against the table and grabbing the blue chalk. The ego needed to be checked on this one and you were the one that was sweating to do so. Leaning it back against the pool table to spread your hands out to lean over and watch his moves at the other end.

He chuckled again pulling out his wallet. You raised an eyebrow watching his moves and he walked over to the table right next to him. “Oh Y/l/n. how I was praying you would be here tonight. Just! So I could get this opportunity to play against you. 200.” He said bending his knees and squeezing his eyes shut at the word ‘just’ pulling out four 50 dollar bills and placing them down with a hard smack.

“But for me. All I am asking for is one date.” He said walking back to the other side of the table.

You looked up from the green fabric table and up at him, smirking. Tapping your foot as you thought about it. He wasn't ugly. Like you said, easy to look at. You rolled your lips together and walked over to him placing a hand on his shoulder and leaned closely into his ear so he could feel your breath on his neck. A little teasing wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“You’re on Lieutenant Seresin” You whispered into his neck. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes as he swallowed hard. Then stepped back as he got ready to take his shot right down the middle.

#top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun #glen powell x reader #glen powell #top gun x reader #fanfiction #miles teller #miles teller x reader #top gun x y/n #jake seresin x y/n #y/n

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nikittytrait · 2 years ago

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30 shuffle sims | CAS challenge

I saw @chaoticsimlish Chaos CAS Shuffle challenge and i really liked it. but instead of 5 songs to do 1 sim i wanted to shuffle my playlist and make a sim inspired by only one song. But doing it for 30 days, so 30 songs and 30 sims.

rules:

Take a playlist of your choosing oryour liked songs on your favorite music platform (i will be using Spotify) and shuffle it!

Use that song to make a sim based on the lyrics, vibes,the cover, even on the music video (if it has)

If you decide to post your sims, please tag me or use the tag #30shufflesims i would love to see your sims :))

#the sims 4 #sims 4 challenge #ts4 #sims 4 #30shufflesims

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darl-ingfics · 1 month ago

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Feveruary Day 21: From Better to Worse

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Seungkwan (cold)

Caregiver(s): Joshua (feat. San of ATEEZ and Yeji of ITZY)

Word Count: 1,460

January had been a hard month for Seungkwan. From prepping for and performing at award shows to serving as a MusicBank MC to promoting with BSS to regular Seventeen practices and album preparation, not to mention maintaining a semblance of a social life with his friends and family… it was a lot, to say the least. So many interviews with jokes to make, fans to charm, conversations to focus on. An endless stream of hair and makeup noonas so kindly making him look flawless, and the fear of messing up their work after. Shedding one stage outfit just to put another on. A constant shuffle of protein bars gobbled down on the car ride from one building to another, coupled with ibuprofen and extra vitamins to fight off the cold he was vaguely aware was creeping up on him. Far too much coffee and barely enough water. So few hours of dreamless sleep that kept his body physically moving but left him just as bone-tired as when he’d collapsed onto the bed.

Seungkwan was positive that he had developed the ability to completely shut off his body’s complaints as an evolutionary necessity. When he was on camera or on stage or even just chatting with his industry peers backstage or on set, smiles and casual chatter came naturally. He was a mood maker by nature; his reputation as Seventeen’s energizer bunny wasn’t manufactured in the slightest, but simply Seungkwan being Seungkwan. Besides, his job as an idol didn’t allow him the time or space for self-pity; he chose this job, and he was going to do it well, no matter what.

Even when that cold overpowered his immune system. But it wasn’t anything Seungkwan couldn’t handle. He’d muscled through harder schedules with worse than a sore throat and the sniffles. This was child’s play. And he told his ‘worry wart’ (his words) members as much when they voiced their concern to him, begging him to slow down, or at least sit down. Sure, he didn’t fight Hoshi or Jihoon when both unit leaders told him to mark his movements and high notes during rehearsal, nor did he refuse any of the countless remedies pushed on him by his hyungs. He didn’t lie about how he was feeling either; he acknowledged being sick and genuinely didn’t feel bad enough to warrant taking a rest. So his members had no choice but to watch him, their hands ready to catch him should he fall.

And fall her did.

On January 15th, the day before his birthday, Seungkwan’s schedule was as packed as could be: group practice from 8 to 11, then Music Bank for MC rehearsal from 11:30 to 1, then there were a series of interviews packed in from 1 to 3, which was when he had to be back at Music Bank to prep not only to MC but also to perform with BSS.

Everything had been going well. The tea with honey he’d had that morning and the decongestants he took routinely throughout the day were doing their job. The rehearsals went smooth. The interviews were fun. He’d been a perfectly professional MC. He’d shined brightly on stage with Soonyoung and Seokmin.

And then the cameras had stopped rolling. Soonyoung had been pulled away to film dance challenges. Seokmin was chatting with some friends. Seungkwan, left in a moment to himself, felt all the noise in the room beginning to fade into the background, his focus narrowing dangerously to the sound of his own heartbeat. He walked backstage, feeling like he was underwater as he bowed politely and smiled woodenly at all of the staff and colleagues he passed. He entered the hallway, flinching at the suddenly too bright lights, walked a few steps, sat down on a bench. Took a deep breath. And fell apart.

Hands shaking, Seungkwan crumpled over his knees, unable to handle the awfulness overtaking him. His entire body felt too hot, skin crawling underneath the layers of makeup and clothing and sweat. His head was pounding, sinuses specifically aching as if he’d been on a plane. His throat was screaming and his chest felt suddenly tight. His body refused to be ignored another second, and he couldn’t handle that.

“Seungkwan, you down here? Kwannie?!” The worried cry vaguely broke though Seungkwan’s haze of misery. He didn’t look up until he felt hands on his knees. Seungkwan opened his eyes straight into Joshua’s warm, waiting gaze. He had no idea his hyung was coming to the show tonight (it had, in fact, been a surprise all along, something Seungkwan would learn later). “Seungkwan-ah?! What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel good.” Seungkwan shook his head.

Joshua frowned, thumbs stroking gently against Seungkwan’s knees. “I thought you said you were feeling better?”

“I am! I… I was…” Seungkwan’s expression crumpled. He dropped forward, covering his face with his hands. And he sobbed. Having Joshua here, knowing that someone who loved him was present in this space with him, looking at him like that, was enough for all of Seungkwan’s defenses to crack.

“Oh, angel,” Joshua murmured, voice silk soft as Seungkwan fell into his arms. Joshua wrapped his own arms around his dongsaeng, one wrapping around Seungkwan’s back while the other wound upward, supporting his neck, fingers tangled in his hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Hyung, I wanna go home.” Seungkwan’s voice was so desperately soft, so heartbreakingly exhausted and feeble and not their usual sunshiny entertainer. He sniffled harshly, pulling back from Joshua just enough to scrub at his eyes.

Joshua moved a hand to brush sweaty bangs off of the younger man’s forehead. “Of course you do, love. You’ve had a looong day. How about we get you back to your dressing room, change your clothes, and head straight home. How does that sound?” Seungkwan contemplated the offer, biting his lip as he forced his weary brain to work. Just as he nodded his head, footsteps rounded the corner.

“Seungkwan-hyung! There you are!” came the bright voice of Choi San. Both Seungkwan and Joshua looked up to see the ATEEZ member walking towards them, Hwang Yeji next to him. Both of their smiles faded the closer they got. “Hyung, what’s wrong?”

“Is everything okay?” Yeji asked, looking worriedly between the pair. Seungkwan grasped Joshua’s hand and squeezed.

The elder vocalist knew exactly what that meant. “Everything will be okay,” Joshua answered with a reassuring smile. “Kwannie’s just had a long week, and everything’s hitting him right now.”

San pouted sympathetically, a look Yeji mirrored. “I’m sorry, hyung. I hope we didn’t add…”

“No!” Seungkwan exclaimed, irritating his throat and prompting a cough. He shook his head. “No, you two were probably the highlight of this very long, very tiring week. I would not have traded this for the world.”

“Well, it’s been an honor working with you, so how can we help you now?” Yeji asked, hands planting on her hips, ready for action. San mimicked her pose and determined expression.

Seungkwan paused in thought, eventually just squeezing Joshua’s hand again. The older man smiled, standing up as he addressed the other two, “Can you go round up Hoshi and DK? We can’t leave without them.”

“On it!” San mimed a salute before crouching to pat Seungkwan’s knee. “Feel better, hyung. We’ll see you next week?” Seungkwan nodded affirmatively as Yeji swooped in to kiss his temple. And then it was just him and Joshua again. The elder vocalist, thankfully, hadn’t let go of his hand yet.

“Why is everyone so nice to me?” Seungkwan asked, teary eyes looking up at his hyung.

“Because it’s so easy to love you, Boo,” Joshua replied. He chuckled to himself as a single, fat tear rolled down Seungkwan’s cheek, brushing it away with his thumb. “Come on, let’s get you home. I can have dinner waiting for us when we get back, anything you want. And I’m sure Cheollie can arrange a day off for you tomorrow.”

“But I’m not that sick…”

“Bullshit. You’re running a fever now, bud, that’s veering towards ‘stay home’ territory.” Seungkwan looked away guiltily. “And even if you were fine, it’s always nice to get a little time off for your birthday.”

Seungkwan’s palm smacked his forehead none-too-gently. “Oh my gosh! How could I forget my own freaking birthday?!”

Joshua chuckled again, pulling Seungkwan to his feet and latching a protective arm around his shoulders when the younger man wobbled. “We gotta get you a lighter schedule soon, or these month-long colds are gonna fry all your brain cells.” Seungkwan pinched his side, but rested his head against Joshua’s shoulder, finally feeling a sense of calm return to him after half of a month of chaos.

#seventeen sickfic #seventeen sick #kpop sickfic #kpop sick #svt sickfic #svt sick #feveruary #feveruary 2025 #sickie seungkwan #caretaker joshua #caretaker san #caretaker yeji

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tanthamoretober · 5 months ago

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Hello questies, writers and friendos. We’ve got a month of 30 little writing challenges you can play with through November - and a few reading ones as well.

These are super chill. You can do these through the month in any order you like, and you can interpret them all in any way you like. This is not about writing complete works - the aim is to do a little writing or reading or fandom interaction every day, and play with a few different scenarios to stretch some creative muscles.

If you want to make your own November calendar graphic to keep track of your progress, Canva has a bunch of free, editable and printable templates!

Have at it!

Write 1000 words in a day

Write 500 words in a day

Write 250 words in a day

Write 100 words in a day

Write 50 words in a day

Take a break today and don’t worry about productivity, make yourself a treat

Add 100 words to an older WIP (whatever ‘older’ means to you)

Add a paragraph to a WIP

Add a sentence to a WIP

Edit a page of your WIP

Re-read something you've written (bonus: share what you like about your work on tumblr/discord)

Re-read a favourite fic (bonus: notice something you enjoy about it and let the author know, or leave a ‘second kudos’ to show you’re re-reading)

Catch up on a fic, or a chapter of something you’ve been meaning to catch up on (no matter how old)

Leave a nice comment on a fic (no matter how old)

Post something on AO3

Write something in a new place (take yourself to a park, a library, on a train, sitting on the bench with your feet in the sink, just mix it up!)

Write using different tools (try writing with pen and paper, or on a phone, or on a keyboard - just take a break from your usual medium)

Hit shuffle on your music and let the first song set the vibe

Write a snippet based on ONE of the following prompts: The knots were tight / Faster and faster and faster / The ache was only getting worse

Write a snippet based on ONE of the following prompts: The rain was wet / The sun was blistering / The frost strangled everything

Write a meet-cute (possibilities: at a comic convention, over a bee-sting, snowed in together, a bloody nose in a mosh pit, flirting in a coffee shop)

Write a deleted scene (from canon, from your own fic, or maybe even from a friend’s fic)

Re-write a scene from a different POV (from canon, from your own fic, or maybe even from a friend’s fic)

Focus on something you love best about Tanthamore

Write 200 words of dialogue

Write 200 words of prose

Write 200 words of anything your heart desires

Write in a different tense than your usual

You’ve been doing so well - have another break and let yourself lie fallow for a day

Meets it beats it: hit your previous days goal again or beat it (you can absolutely use this as an extra rest day)

#tanthamore #willow #willow 2022 #kit tanthalos #jade claymore #writing prompts

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joels-shitty-puns · 1 year ago

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The Key To Your Heart - Track 10

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Panic/Anxiety Attack. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f). Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 6.6k

Series List: Here!

Miss Track 9? Here!

Hi!!!! Once again I want to apologize for taking so long with this. I can't seem to ever stay awake to do anything. That being said, here it is! This is the last main chapter of our little lovebirds. There will be at least one, likely two bonus tracks coming soon though :) Also there's a smidge of Spanish in here from Pedro, but the translation is included in the end of the sentence. I took some Spanish classes back in the day but I don't speak it and had to use Google translate. So if it ISN'T right and you do speak Spanish, please let me know lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these little cuties on their first date. There's a lot, a lot, a lot of kissing in here (sorry...) and overall they're just grossly in love lol. Please let me know what you think, and if you've seriously read this far, I LOVE YOU! This is my first series, and honestly my first fic other than the one I wrote in my diary lmao. Like the reader, I am incredibly inexperienced so writing a relationship has been a bit of a challenge and half the time I don't believe the actual words I'm writing. But I really only started writing it as a way to write down my daydreams :) So to have support means the world to me, and hearing people comment/DM me saying how much they relate has meant so much and makes me feel a lot less alone, because ultimately, it doesn't matter how fictional it is, most of reader's feelings are my own. To anyone else in the same boat, I get you! Hang in there. I think there's a Pedro out there for us all. Someday. Anywho, pardon my ramble. Thank you for reading, I hope you like it. ❤

The next morning, you woke up and stretched your limbs, rolling over in your comfortable bed as the sunshine poured in through the window. At the shuffling of your body, Skipper groaned, wiggling a little in bed, nearly shoving you off the edge. You reached for your phone, blinking through your sleep a couple times before seeing a text from Pedro. “Good morning beautiful! I can't wait for our date today. I was thinking maybe we could start around 2:30 and spend the day together, if you'd like. But if that's too much, we can just make it a dinner date. Up to you which you would prefer. I understand either way. Love you ❤️”

He wants to spend the whole day with me!? And he sent me a good morning text and called me beautiful? Then signed it with a heart and love you?!!!! How did I get this man?

Your grin eclipsed your face, making you squint. If Mr. Grumpybutt weren't sharing the bed with you, you'd probably squeal and kick your feet. Tapping your phone screen, you typed out a reply. “Morning handsome ❤️ I would love nothing more than to spend the day with you. I love you too!” You sent the message before crawling out of bed gently, receiving a dirty look from Skip.

“Alright Grump. Go back to bed. Geez,” you laughed. If looks could kill, you thought. He turned back on his side, letting out a grumble and sigh, resulting in a laugh from you. Acts like he pays rent and works 40 hours a week…

You took a relaxing shower, making sure to be all nice and fresh for your date with the man of your dreams. While brushing your teeth, you noticed he had replied. “Great, I can't wait. I'll be at your place at 2:30. :)”

“Can't wait to see you. What do you have planned? I'm wondering how to dress.”

“Wear whatever you feel good in, baby. I'm sure you'll look amazing. Probably something casual you can walk around comfortably in for the day. Maybe something a little dressier for the evening, but you don't need to carry it around. We will make a stop at your place before and you can change”

Wow he really has this planned out.

“What have you got planned, P? This sounds elaborate. You know you don't need to put in all that effort, I'm already yours ❤️”

“You deserve the world, my love.”

Dressed in a pair of leggings and a light sweater, you felt reasonably cute while still being comfortable for whatever activity Pedro had in mind. Plus, with the crisp November air, you would be nice and warm. You were just finishing tying your sneakers when your doorbell rang.

You opened the door to find your handsome boyfriend standing on your step, a bouquet of red roses in his hand. “Mi amor,” he handed you the roses, kissing your cheek and hand. “Thank you Pedro,” your cheeks heated. “Come in,” you pulled his hand across the doorway towards the living room. Skipper pushed past you to investigate, causing Pedro to drop your hand.

“Well there he is! That handsome boy!” Skipper’s tail wagged and his butt wiggled as Pedro crouched to give ear scratches. “Oh, I love you too,” Pedro answered when Skip kissed his face frantically. A fit of giggles erupted from Pedro, making your heart swell with joy. He has the cutest laugh, and the fact that your dog is causing it was surreal.

“You're just a beautiful boy! Aren't you?! Hermoso, igual que tu mamá,” he held Skipper’s face, kissing his nose. (Beautiful, just like your mama)

Your chest was filled with butterflies. Holy shit, he's charming. “Thank you, Pedro,” you said in a whisper, not even sure if he would hear. Turning his head from your dog, Pedro looked up at you, giving you a gentle smile; but the eye contact was quickly torn away when Skipper pressed a needy paw to Pedro's chest. Both of you now giggling, Pedro continued to pet Skipper, stopping to give him a hug and some more nose kisses.

“Alright. I gotta ask…” you prompted, causing Pedro to turn his head towards you again. “Are you just dating me to hang out with my dog?” You smirked.

Pedro turned back to Skipper, speaking in a low voice. “She's catching on to us buddy. We've been made.” You burst out laughing, Skipper looking over at you as if his plan really had been foiled.

Pedro gave a final pat on Skipper’s head before standing and walking over to you. “Nonsense,” he pecked a kiss to your lips. “I do love that sweet boy of yours,” he replied before turning his face to whisper in your ear. “But I'm absolutely enamored with you, Mamacita.” The hair on your neck stood as a chill rushed down your spine. You bit your lower lip, and he stared back into your eyes, leaning in for a passionate kiss.

“You look beautiful,” he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“You look rather handsome, yourself,” you replied. His hair was brushed back and to the side, his curls neatly swept and threatening to break free around his face. You wondered whether he asked for help to make his hair look extra nice for your date or if he styled it himself.

Running your fingertips over his patched salt and pepper beard, your hands found the small heart shaped patches near his chin. You brushed your thumb over his jaw before leaning in to press a kiss on the bare skin, causing his eyes to close as he let out a sigh. The whiskers tickled your cheeks as you continued kissing up his jawline, back across his cheek, and on his nose before pulling away to look into his eyes.

He opted to not wear glasses today, allowing you a closer look into his deep brown eyes which were softening under your gaze. “You ready to go, baby?” He asked you, his hand on your hip as he rubbed circles with his thumb.

“Absolutely,” you smiled. He wore a pair of dark jeans, tennis shoes, and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearm. He looked absolutely… incredible.

While you were grabbing your bag, he grabbed Skipper's leash. “Is Skipper coming too?” You asked, confused.

Skipper was twirling now, impatient to go somewhere.

“Sure is! Couldn't leave him out. But don't worry, you and I will have the night to ourselves,” he winked.

You looked downward, feeling shy and flushed. “Okay,” you giggled, clipping Skip to his leash and heading for the door.

“Do you want to take my car? You'll get dog hair and slobber in yours,” you offer.

“I don't mind! I love dogs,” Pedro replied, opening the door for Skipper to climb in the back seat. After closing the door, he opened the passenger door for you. Such a gentleman, you thought with a sigh, getting in and thanking him.

As the car sped along, you looked over at your boyfriend driving the car. Boyfriend! That'll never get old… you thought to yourself. The air conditioning blew the few loose strands of hair on the top of his head, and his left hand gripped the wheel, making the veins on his hand prominent. With his right hand, he reached over, holding your left in his, resting on top of your thigh.

He really did look beautiful. You couldn't help but stare at him as he expertly drove the car, hand flexing as he turned the wheel. His mouth pursed and he licked his lips, his tongue slowly jutting out to wet them.

Damn, I want those lips on mine. That tongue in my mouth, you thought, feeling rather warm, despite the air conditioning swirling around the car.

“So where are we spending the day?” You asked, trying to quiet the flames of attraction licking at your pulse.

“It's a surprise! But we're almost there,” he answered, rubbing his thumb over the top of your hand.

Pedro looked in the side mirror and laughed. “Babe, look at Skipper.”

You looked to see him with his head out the window, ears and lips blown back with the wind, his tongue lolled out to the side and blowing with the speed of the vehicle.

You both chuckled before you warned him, “your car is going to be covered in slobbers, Pedro!” He gave another quick look to Skipper before replying. “That's okay. It'll help me remember this day until I wash it again,” he looked over at you and smiled. It felt so natural. So… domestic, the two of you sitting in the car, going on a date, him holding your hand while driving, and the two of you laughing at your dog in the back seat. It was just perfect. Everything you dreamed.

He wasn't joking when he said you were almost there. It was only about five more minutes until the car pulled into the parking lot of the dog-friendly beach.

Stepping out of the vehicle, you took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell of salty sea air and hearing the chatter of gulls. The breeze blew your hair gently, but the day was relatively warm for November.

After the three of you exited the car, Pedro opened the trunk, pulling out a large picnic basket and tote bag. “You really came prepared, didn't you? Pedro, this is really special. Thank you.” Your eyes felt teary and the smile you held was genuine. Nobody has ever put this much effort into anything for you. Other than him.

“You don't need to thank me. I want you to be happy and I want the three of us to have a nice day,” he added, pecking your lips.

“Wait.. Pedro,” you frowned. “It looks kind of crowded. Should I be nervous about paparazzi or anything?” Your stomach bubbled with nervous energy.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. Celebs come here all the time. I've come here before. If they do, they might take pictures, but usually it's pretty low-key here. Try not to worry too much. I want you to have a nice time,” he squeezed your hand affectionately.

“Okay. I trust you,” you smiled at him as the three of you walked towards the sand, finding a nice place to picnic. Pedro unpacked, laying down a large blanket before setting up the spread of sandwiches, veggies, and fruit. He offered you a cold drink from the basket and the two of you sat, using a metal stake to secure Skipper’s leash near your blanket. He flopped onto his side, content to be sunbathing with some of his favorite people.

The lunch consisted of peaceful conversations and laughter, learning more about each other despite having talked for several months now. It seemed you could never run out of conversation topics. But even in the quiet moments, it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt relaxing. You were both content being able to sit together in silence and just enjoy each other's company.

After your meal, you packed up the basket and headed for the car again to put the things away, opting for a walk unburdened by carrying items across the sand. Neither of you brought a swimsuit today, but despite the California sun, it was still November, and the Pacific ocean was never really warm, even in the middle of summer. That didn't seem to bother Skipper very much though. As the two of you walked hand in hand near the water, barefoot in the wet sand, he ran laps around Pedro holding him on the leash, occasionally splashing through the shallow water before joining close by his family again.

He would definitely need a bath later, but you didn't mind. He was happy splashing around, having a great day. You were happy walking with the man of your dreams, fingers intertwined together. Everything felt right. You weren't even nervous, despite the way Pedro looked like the most handsome man you've ever seen, or the fact that he was famous, and that you occasionally received stares from other beach goers. Instead of the usual first-date nerves people get, you just felt love.

“So,” he started excitedly, “Obviously I have most of this date planned, but I also wanted to check in with you and see if you had anything particular in mind that you wanted to do together.”

You thought for a second, letting a memory burn into your thoughts. “Well,” you began, "I don't want to sound like a total creepy fan or anything...” you added, cautiously. You kinda were, with all the photos of him you had saved on your phone (prior to deleting them before your first meeting in person). But that's not important right now, and he probably doesn't need to know that. Maybe it can be a funny story later.

Pedro laughed, that cute little wheezy laugh he does with his giant smile that makes your stomach do somersaults. Those same somersaults you've been getting since you first saw that smile on the screen and knew you were absolutely screwed until you got over this crush. Or, unexpectedly, when you walked hand-in-hand with him, like you were now.

“But…?” he pondered, looking down at you sideways, with a playful smirk and those big brown eyes that could make you lose your mind. They absolutely glittered in the sunlight right now, reflecting all the joy and love he felt for you.

“Okay maybe I'm a little creepy…” you nudged him with your side, still gripping his hand in yours as the two of you walked peacefully. The beach was crowded, but you and him, and Skipper, were the only ones here as far as either of you were concerned. There could be a loud scream and it wouldn't compare to the squealing in your mind. A firework show would simply feel like a projection of your sparks. A tornado couldn't sweep you off your feet as well as he could.

“Is this where you tell me you've been watching me sleep through my window for the past three years or something?” He raised an eyebrow, playful smile still on his face as he licked his lips.

“What?” You squeaked, laughing. “No. I mean… I did have some pictures saved of you, and have maybe read a fictional story or two about you and your characters…” or a few thousand, you thought.

You cringed. Why the fuck did I say that out loud?!

Your cheeks felt hot and you diverted your eyes away from the man beside you, a nervous grimace painted across your mouth. He barked out a laugh, pulling you into his side for a hug. “Baby, you're cute. I don't mind that you used to read those. I don't even mind if you still do. No different than a book, right? Maybe it'll give us some fun date ideas.” He rested his head on top of yours innocently.

Oh, if only he knew the things you read.

“Right. Fun date ideas,” you smirked to yourself. He pulled away to look at you, eyebrow raising playfully.

“Sweetheart,” he interrogated in the same tone you use when Skipper steals a sock from the laundry, “what kind of stories are you reading about me and my characters, huh?” He lifted your chin to meet his eyes. You'd feel nervous from his tone if he didn't flash a smug, knowing grin at you.

“Oh, you know…” you shrugged. “Just the typical romance stuff,” you turned, facing him and resting your hand on his chest, tracing a circle over his heart with your finger. You felt his pulse pick up under your touch, and saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

“What kind of thoughts are going through that pretty head of yours?” He asked, raising his brow while you continued tracing little hearts into his shirt with your index finger.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” You winked before removing your hand from his chest. Starting to walk away, you continued your earlier statement. “Anyway, as I was saying-”

“Oh, no you don’t,” he interrupted, laughing. “Don't think you're getting out of this conversation that easy,” he gently pulled your forearm, stopping your movement and sending you twirling into his arms once again.

“Maybe someday I'll tell you,” you giggled, booping his nose.

“Someday? Why not tell me now?” He ran his thumb over your lip, eyes drifting down quickly before returning to your eyes.

“I'll show you the fanfics I read about you when I know you're stuck with me and you aren't going to run for the hills,” you laughed nervously, only partially joking.

His playful demeanor vanished before your eyes, turning into a look of… concern? Oh no. This is it. Where he realizes what a mistake he made. Where he says he doesn't want to be together. Where he breaks my heart.

He gently held your arm, rubbing soft strokes. “Honey. What are you talking about?” His soft brown eyes searched your face. You gulped, not wanting to make eye contact, but he again pulled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “I…” you floundered for the words. “I don't want to scare you away.”

“Why would I be scared away?” he asked in almost a whisper, concern and sadness lacing his features.

“Because I just had this huge, huge crush on you. So, I read fanfics and I saved all your photos and I watched all your movies. I spent more time on social media looking for updates on you. Just so I could see you, or imagine what being with you would feel like. Like a total crazy person. An absolute psycho creeper.”

“Baby…” he brushed his thumb over your cheek. “You aren't any of those things. I actually think that’s kind of sweet. Although, it makes me a little sad thinking about the pain you must have felt, having these strong feelings and not having found each other yet.” He brushed your hair out of your face, settling his other hand on your waist before continuing.

“Feelings make us feel a little crazy sometimes, and although I never read fanfiction about you, or had any pictures to save, I would be lying if I said I didn't take a screenshot of us that first night you showed me your face.” He rubbed his neck bashfully.

Fanfic about me? What? If that even exists, I gotta see what people are saying…

“You did?” His admission surprised you, to say the least. He sighed before answering. “Yes. I had - have,” he corrected himself, “a pretty big crush on you too, baby. But I felt like I was betraying you in a way, taking a picture of you during our video chat. I just wanted to remember your face if I never saw it again,” he sighed.

“I fell in love with you the first time I heard your song... I heard you sing about your feelings and daydreams. So… you admitting about fanfiction and pictures isn't all that surprising.” You lowered your eyes in embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He stroked your cheek. You looked up and he continued. “I took that picture because I had already fallen so head-over-heels for you that the first time I saw your face, I stopped breathing. Although I knew I wouldn't be able to get the image of you out of my mind, I couldn't risk forgetting the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life.”

You dropped your gaze again, cheeks feeling a permanent state of warmth and butterflies dancing from your stomach to your chest. “You don't honestly mean that, Pedro.” You sighed. “I appreciate it, but there's no way. I really don't know what you could ever see in someone like me,” you whispered, barely audible. If you weren't standing so close, he would've missed it.

Instead of responding, he dropped his arms from your body. At the loss of contact, your heart sank. But when you lifted your head to meet his eyes, he was fishing around his pocket for his phone. Calling an Uber to leave? Your self-doubt pestered.

A few taps to his screen later and he held up his phone. There you were, sitting at your table in your favorite dress, with your favorite food and flowers on the table. You had the biggest smile on your face and in the bottom corner, you could see Pedro looking handsome as always, and absolutely smitten with you, the largest grin painted across his features.

At the sight of the image, your heart warmed. “See what you mean to me?” He asked, putting his phone back into his pocket. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you,” you choked out, leaning forward to mold your lips to his. They fit together perfectly. Like they were made for each other. He pressed back before opening his mouth ever so slightly to lick at your lips. Matching his movements, your tongues met, dancing a waltz in exploration as he pulled you forward by your lower back, seeming as if trying to get as close as possible somehow.

As the two of you paused for air, he ran his hand further down your back, just barely grazing the dip of your spine where your torso meets your butt. He gave you a look, almost to determine your reaction, asking permission to let his hand continue. When you didn't back away, going as far as pulling him closer around his neck and leaning in for another kiss, he pressed his lips against yours in return and let his hands wander a little further down. When his hand wrapped around the cheek of your ass, you squeaked. This is new… and I like it, you thought. His whole hand fit across your cheek. His huge hands. You whimpered as he gave a squeeze, like he was claiming you as his own.

“I love you too.” He finally responded, pulling out of the kiss to search your eyes. “So tell me… what was this activity you wanted to add to our date? The one you fear makes you sound like a creepy fan?” He let out a small laugh, brushing your nose with his.

“This,” you replied, pressing another kiss.

“Kissing?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over your waist and resting his forehead to yours. “I think we've already been doing that, if I'm not mistaken.” He pecked your lips with his.

“Yes,” you kissed. “Well,” kiss. “Actually,” you pulled away enough to explain. “I read this interview you gave a few years ago about your ideal first date?”

“Yeah?”

“You said something about ‘a date that doesn't feel like a date. And

hopefully by the end, or throughout, very

good kissing.” You said, slightly cautious at your memorization, a bit nervous at the implication of what you're saying.

“Oh, is that what you want?” He flashed his eyes up to look at you, giving a devilish smirk.

“Well, as someone who hadn't been kissed yet when I read it, I sorta lost my mind over it,” you laughed. “Obviously we've kissed before, but if it were up to me your lips would never leave mine,” you pressed your lips to his again.

“I think we should be able to make that happen,” he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours before pulling you in for another kiss. “Mmmm” you sighed, pulling away from his lips. “Never gets old.” You held his hand in yours, the two of you walking again down the beach.

“So I was thinking,” he began, “since you said you deleted all your photos, and I only have the one, maybe we could make some new photos… together,” the corner of his mouth turned up into a crooked smile. You grinned and nodded excitedly. “Please!”

Pulling out his phone, the two of you took several photos together. Some just smiling, some with Skipper, and your personal favorites, the ones with him kissing you. This will make for a perfect lockscreen, you imagined.

As you approached the edge of a rocky cliffside at the end of the beach, a sea lion barked in the distance. Skipper perked up, tilting his head and letting his ears twitch before returning a “boof.” The two of you laughed, ushering your dog away from making any wild ocean friends, and headed towards the boardwalk.

After grabbing an ice cream at a candy shop, you were so deep in conversation and laughter that you didn't notice the girl off to the side looking nervous. Slowly she walked over. Skipper put up his guard, but as she approached, she gave a kind wave. “Hi… I'm sorry to bother you. I'm a big fan of you both.”

“Us… both?!” You responded, surprised. Pedro shook his head with a laugh before thanking the fan.

“Of course! Your music is amazing! I listen to it on my way home from work everyday. I relate to so many of your songs.”

“Wow, thank you so much. I never expected to be recognized. You're so kind,” you replied honestly.

She asked for a photo with you both, and after obliging, she mentioned before leaving, “by the way, I was following all the news that went down. I just want to say I think it's cute how you guys got together and you make a really cute couple. Okay bye! Thank you again!!” And with that, she scurried away, leaving you to look at Pedro in surprise. “Wow” you replied with a laugh. “I can't believe I'm getting recognized,” you spoke quietly.

“How do you feel about it?” Pedro asked cautiously.

“I feel… okay, so far. This was a nice interaction, and even though people keep looking at us… being able to be out in public with you, to show my face, kiss you, hug you, hold your hand,” you gave his hand a squeeze, “it makes it all worth it.”

“I couldn't agree more,” he looked into your eyes, giving a soft smile. You matched his expression before his face slowly faded into concern. “Do you think work will go okay for you? Now that it's out there?”

You took a deep breath, walking a few more steps with him down the boardwalk before replying. “I don't know. I guess so. Or… I hope so at least. I've had a few of my friends and coworkers message me kind words of encouragement. So at least I'll have some people on my side, even if anyone else has something to say. But really, they shouldn't. They already know me. They knew I liked you,” you leaned into him. “So they should be happy for me if anything. And if not, then… well, they didn't deserve to be my friend anyway,” you shrugged. “But I think I might take some time off to figure out everything, career wise,” you added. Still leaning into his side, Pedro unlatched his fingers from yours, opting to reach his arm around you, giving your shoulder a squeeze and rubbing soft circles into your upper arm.

“Baby,” Pedro began, his voice vibrating through your body as he leaned his head on yours, “I’m so proud of you. Have I told you how strong I think you are?” Your cheeks warmed and you grinned. “Thank you Pedro,” you wrapped your arms around his waist to hug him. “But I don't think I'm that strong. I struggle to open pickle jars just like the rest of us,” you joked.

Pedro gave a quiet snort. “You know what I mean, honey,” he laughed. “I don't mean physical strength. Though I'm sure you could hold your own in an arm wrestle, I mean your ability to handle all of this thrown at you so quickly. Your ability to adapt and stay cheerful about everything. You just keep continuing to amaze me,” he pulled his head away from yours to meet your gaze. He smiled softly and you thanked him.

“I don't feel very strong,” you mumbled, breaking away from his stare. “You are, though. You're strong, smart, beautiful. Talented. Passionate,” he kissed your lips.

“Pedro, I love you, but you always seem to use all these words I don't feel. You see me as someone completely different than the way I've always seen myself. I want to believe you, but-” you sighed. “No one else has ever shown any indication that those are true,” you pouted, trying not to tear up.

“Hey, hey, whoa. Stop,” he halted your movements, pulling your chin up to his face. “Maybe they didn't see you, but I do. I feel all those things about you, and I'll spend every single day trying to prove it. I told myself I wouldn't get involved in romance a long time ago. But you changed all that.”

His chocolate brown eyes felt like they looked directly into your soul as he attempted to unravel your self-doubt. With a deep breath, you calmed enough to reply. “I love you, and I feel all those things for you as well. I'm glad you opened yourself up to love again.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “I'm glad I met you” you sucked his lip. “I'm glad you're mine.” You kissed him again, deepening it, letting your tongue press gently to his and tangling together in passion before pulling away.

Skipper had completely rolled into his side in wait for you both, between the conversation and the kissing. When the two of you broke away with matching grins, you looked over to see the sun had sunk down to the border between sky and ocean. In its wake was a bright orange sky, with pink, purple, and yellow streaks mixed in, as if a painter had gotten a bit too carried away with the paints. It was blindingly beautiful.

Drawn to it like moths, the three of you walked towards the shoreline once again. You started to sit, but Pedro pulled you into his chest and fished for his phone.

You gave him a confused look before he kissed you deeply and held out his arm. Unlatching his lips from yours with a pop, he held up his phone to you with a smile. In front of the vibrant ocean sunset, the silhouette of a couple shared a loving kiss. For once, it was you in this couple photo. You and the man you love.

You walked a little farther down the sand before sitting down just above the line of wet sand to admire the sunset. Pedro sat behind you, his legs on either side of you while you lay back into his chest. As you leaned into him, he hugged around your body, molding himself to you and tracing light circles into the skin on your arms, making the hairs stand on end and a shiver to run down your spine.

Skipper flopped down nearby, clearly sleepy after a long walk and plenty of new smells. You ran a gentle hand down his back until you heard soft snores, then let him sleep, leaning your head on Pedro’s arm around your shoulder. “This sunset is beautiful,” you sighed, watching as the sun descended further below the ocean. It looked as if it was sinking deep below the surface, offering its light to the deep sea anglerfish miles below.

“It is amazing,” Pedro agreed, staring at you. “But my view is even better,” he added, and you could feel his eyes on the side of your face as he kissed your shoulder. You looked over at him, meeting his eyes, now sparkling with the orange of the sky. “Mine too,” you whispered, tilting your head to press another kiss to his lips.

When the sun went down completely, you headed to the car and Pedro drove back to your place so you could get ready for dinner.

Pedro sat on the couch patiently, stroking the fur on Skip’s back while he snoozed, his head in Pedro's lap. In your bedroom, you searched for the perfect outfit to wear, finally deciding on a nice dress and sweater.

Hopefully the restaurant isn't too cold, you thought.

Walking out of the bedroom, you joined your boys in the living room, only to be greeted by Pedro’s jaw hitting the floor. “Te ves tan hermosa mi amor,” he stuttered in Spanish, flipping languages so easily when he was overcome with emotion. (You look so gorgeous my love.)

He gently stood, sliding out from below your dog, before walking over to you. His eyes scanned your body from head to toe and back up again, making you feel nervous. “You… you look… wow.” He rubbed his hand over his chin, his thumb grazing his lip. His pupils grew, making his eyes ever-so-slightly darker. You shivered under his gaze.

At your shiver, his demeanor shifted. “Shit, are you cold? Baby, you look incredible, but if you're cold -”

“I'm not cold, Pedro,” you interrupted.

“Are you sure? I saw you shiver.” He stepped towards you, touching your arm. A buzz crept under your skin like a live wire. “It wasn't from the cold…” you replied.

“It wasn't from-?” He paused, the realization hitting him as he understood your shiver wasn't from cold but frankly.. the opposite. “Oh,” he hummed, settling his hand on your hip and stepping closer.

Another chill.

“Feeling excited for our date, huh?” His voice caressed into your ear as he kissed his way down your neck, pausing to take gentle nibbles on the skin of your collarbone, neck, and chin, before pulling you in by your waist to press a deep kiss to your mouth, his tongue finding yours.

This was starting to feel natural, kissing. And you two were getting good at it together. Knowing just the way his tongue moved, finding just the spot to make you whine. You even managed to find a spot of him that made a groan slip from his lips nearly every time. Kissing him was addicting, and you had no intention of kicking the habit.

He pulled away, pulling your lip with his teeth as you let out a slight hiss. “I'd love to do this all night, but I promised you dinner, my love,” he kissed your cheek, his beard scratching your face just right. You sighed, agreeing to dinner and taking a minute step back. It felt much warmer in the room than before, and you could tell he felt the same. As your eyes drifted across his body, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat. Slowly sweeping his eyes down his body, it was evident you both wanted something beyond dinner.

But the gentleman he is, Pedro stepped forward again, taking your hand and leading you toward the door.

Pulling up to the curb, Pedro opened your door for you before handing his keys to the valet. Linking his arm with yours, the two of you walked into an elegant Italian restaurant. He gave the waitress his name, and she led you back to a secluded room where a single booth sat.

The room was dimly lit, illuminated by candles and twinkling fairy lights. They lined the ceiling, mimicking the starry sky, were it not for the smog of the city. You two walked toward the only booth, settled against the nook of a window, draped with a soft, thin white curtain covering the view from outside. Only the reflection of street lights peered through the thin drapery.

Sliding into the booth, Pedro sat next to you, close enough to touch, yet due to the curve of the corner booth, you were able to converse without craning your neck awkwardly. At the center of the table was a single red rose in a vase, sat next to the glow of a candle. The table itself was rounded and draped with an elegant dark red tablecloth.

Grabbing the triangular folded napkin off your plate, you folded it across your lap, Pedro doing the same. He reached over to you, taking your hand in his. He rolled his hand over the top of yours, linking his fingers between your own and giving a gentle squeeze while offering a soft smile.

You looked into his eyes, searching for the words he might be thinking. In his eyes you only found love and appreciation, pure happiness oozing from his features. When the waitress came back, she set a basket of bread with butter on the table and took your orders.

The night went smoothly, chatter filling the empty spaces while you enjoyed your meals. “Pedro, I know this is technically our first date, but I gotta say, I think I consider our video chat for my album as the first date. It was the first time I felt like I might actually have a shot with you. You put so much effort into that night and it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. I didn't know I could fall for you any harder than I was, but you proved me wrong. And even though we didn't say it was a date, and I didn't have much experience before you, it felt more like a date than anything I had ever felt before. You're a real romantic, P.”

He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “That felt like the first date to me too. I knew for sure that I loved you that night.” Your cheeks heated, and you leaned your head on his shoulder.

It was only when the bill arrived that you broke apart. Though you offered to pay, at least for your meal, Pedro wouldn't stand for that. After all, he told you, this date was his idea. So instead, you thanked him and left the restaurant the same way you entered, arms linked.

As Pedro pulled up outside of your home, you let out a sigh. It was already after 9 PM. You had spent nearly eight hours together and yet you dreaded the moment you'd be saying goodbye. It was almost that time already, yet it felt like only five minutes had passed.

Though the walk from Pedro’s car to your front door was rather short, you both managed to prolong it, walking as slow as possible. Clearly he wasn't ready for it to end either. Two love sick fools, just wanting to spend every moment together.

Teetering on the edge of goodbyes, you awkwardly stood by your door. There were no nerves at a first kiss, fortunately. There had been plenty of kisses shared today, and yesterday, and the day prior. In fact, if it weren't for breathing, eating, and other bodily functions, you'd be fine having your lips glued to his indefinitely.

So with that in mind, and the burning desire to spend more time together, as he said goodbye, placing a kiss to your lips and beginning to walk away, you grabbed his arm. “Wait,” you plead.

Pedro turned, looking at you as if you had something to say, or you had forgotten a sweater in the car. But instead, with your heart pounding in your ears, you quietly asked, “would you like to come in? I’m not quite ready to say goodbye.”

The question could be taken with so many potential implications, or none at all. All you knew for sure was that you wanted to spend more time with him. What happened next could be decided in the moment.

His eyes flashed surprise for a moment. He looked at you, trying to read your face for any details in your question, then stared at your front door before turning back to you and finally answering.

“I would love to,” he smiled.

And so the two of you walked through the threshold of your front door, buzzing with new possibilities just inside. But no matter how the rest of the evening takes place, you were in love, and for once, you were loved back.

The end! Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for the bonus tracks, and once again I'd love to hear what you think! Reblogs are appreciated as well :)

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibleywrites @faithfullyyours2000 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin @hmneighbors @emmalostinwonderland

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal rpf #rpf #key to your heart #pedro pascal smut

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forever-once-gone · 10 months ago

Text

Day 4: Hoseok - Your cat, unfortunately, picks favourites </3

Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February! (what a joke lol)

Word count: 2.7k

Content and Warnings: soft? yandere au, gn! reader, Hobi dearest is an intruder, your cat loves you but loves Hoseok more, knives, threats, attempted murder (not to you), dark content, cleaning, too much cat talk, reader is mad like really mad, house break-ins, unsafe housing ig, I couldn't bare to make Hobi too evil in this even though I probably should have considering the context... but it's Hobi :(

Author's Note: Hi! Another one for you guys. You guys got this cause a few kind anons and @comingupwithacoolnameishard were nice enough to let me know that they would like me to continue posting this series. Which I'm so touched by. So this is dedicated to them! Thanks for being so kind dears! This is unedited as per the rules of this drabble series/challenge. Anyways, enjoy!

You would often hear the shuffling of your cat in the dead of night. The little guy would often run around your house with his heavy flops and little pitter-patter footfalls. It didn't wake you up when you first got him, when he was just a little kitten enjoying the various rooms and halls of your house. He was so small that you barely ever noticed him running around until he’d get bored of the emptiness (usually around 4:30 am, when the birds would begin to sing) and make his way back to your room to scream up at you from the floor, asking to be let back up into the comforts of the bed with you. Then he would purr right into your neck contently until he’d wake up with you at 7:30.

But with his growing age, he had become larger and more disruptive in the night. And more mischievous as well. In the dead of night, since the past 8-9 months or so, you’d been hearing clacking of dishes, cabinets, and doors. Auguste knew he wasn’t allowed on the countertops from when he was just a little kitten, fresh from the shelter, and he was good at not opposing you when it came to his limitations. He wouldn’t climb into cabinets like other cats did and he didn’t show any attempts of trying to sneak his way in either. But it seemed when you were asleep in your room, his confidence would rise and he’d begin breaking all the rules. Maybe he was going through his teenage rebellion phase.

Nonetheless, you were often now roused from your sleep to the sound of Auguste going wild downstairs. You’d pause for a second, straining your ears to hear whether the little man had gotten himself hurt or stuck in the cabinets, but when the sounds of his heavy walking around would resume, you’d relax, turn, and fall back asleep. You knew he was fine, as every early, early morning he’d still finish his little rebellious session by appearing at the side of your bed, meowing for you to pick him up and pull him into bed with you. At this age, he was more than capable of getting on the bed himself, but you think he’d made it part of his routine to have you, specifically, pull him into bed. Even if in the day he’d happily jump up and down from your bed as he pleased.

Maybe you’d spoiled him too much when he was a baby.

Only on the nights that he wouldn’t make it back to your room by 4:30 would you begin to worry that he had gotten himself trapped in a cabinet or something of the like. You’d wait no more than fifteen minutes before getting out of bed and calling from your door out into the hall for Auguste quietly, only getting louder as the time went on. But every single time, he’d trot up the stairs, calling back to you with his me-ah noises. He’d finally run up to you when he’d see you standing by the door, arms down stretching, ready to scoop him up. He’d circle your legs for a turn or two before flopping into your hands, gleefully accepting the kiss you placed between his ears with a small mmerp.

You’d reprimand him jokingly. Asking him what devious crimes he’d been up to only for him to purr as you tucked him under the covers beside you. It was funny though, even though you joked about his “devious crimes” the house was never really out of order when you’d wake up after his active nights. Okay, maybe some things were shifted, out of place, the paper towel holder an inch to the left of where you kept it, the wash cloth haphazardly thrown onto the sliver between the two sides of the sink, but nothing disturbed. Nothing broken, nothing ruined. It was like even in his most mischievous of moods he could never be too bad.

It was another such night when Auguste trampled around the house, creating the ruckus that would cause you to stir. When you checked the time, you saw that it was nearly 4 am. You looked around you, but couldn’t find Auguste. He must be downstairs messing around.

But that’s when you noticed just how cold it had gotten overnight. Even while bundled up in your duvet, you were still shivering. Was it supposed to get this cold tonight? It was barely even close to winter, this is too much. Your poor little cuddlebug was probably freezing his paws off downstairs. If it was cold up here, it was probably freezing downstairs!

You managed to pull yourself out from the warmth of your bed thinking of your cat. You pulled a throw blanket that sat at the foot of your bed around your shoulders to try and protect your warmth. You tried to call for him, but just as you were about to, you heard a crashing sound from downstairs.

You immediately startled, taking a step back before taking for the stairs, not even bothering to turn on the hallway light. You made it halfway down when you heard a noise coming from behind you. It grew louder and louder until it was right behind you. You just managed to jump to the side in the dark to barely make out Auguste sitting beside you on the step, his eyes practically the only part of his that you could see in the dark.

“Auguste?” The cat let out a meow in acknowledgement. “Aren’t you freezing?”

You scooped him up into your arms, under the blankets you had wrapped around yourself. He felt cold against you. Maybe it had gotten much too cold overnight. “Let’s go turn the heating on, hmm?”

Auguste only pulled his head out of the blanket in reply, looking out in front of the both of you, with only his head peeking out.

You hummed a little song as you made your way down the remaining steps. The thermostat was at the bottom of the stairs, right by the front door. With the moonlight streaming in from the window beside the door, you were able to locate the thermostat on the wall. You cranked the temperature up, and the furnace roared to life from below your feet.

“Let’s get back to bed, eh?” You pulled the blanket tighter around you with the arm not holding Auguste up. You pressed a kiss against his head, before turning back to the staircase. But when you turned to the stairs, you saw a faint yellowish light against the stairs that you hadn’t noticed before. Following the line of light, you saw the kitchen door cracked open, soft light making its way down the hall.

You must have left the light on earlier. Better turn it off before your electricity bill skyrockets. You pushed open the door and immediately froze.

There was a man.

A man.

In your kitchen.

Illuminated by the light from under the exhaust fan.

Wiping down the stove.

In your kitchen.

A man.

Auguste jumped from out of the blankets, landing with a thump on the ground before skittering over to the man. You wanted to grab him and run, but you couldn’t. You were frozen to your spot, watching your precious cat approach this stranger.

Auguste ran between the intruder’s legs, purring as he rubbed his face and body against his ankles. Between the various thoughts coursing through your head, you had one neuron notice that the man was wearing your guest slippers. Auguste bumped his head against the man’s leg, before meowing his grievances up at him.

The man just chuckled quietly, before whispering, “give me one second, Auguste. I’m almost done with the last of the cleaning.” He continued to wipe up the counters and stove for a few more seconds before finally rinsing the washcloth in the sink and putting it to the side to dry. In the same spot you always put it. By the window. Wait, why was the window open?

He washed his hands, drying his hands against his shirt before picking Auguste up. He pressed a kiss against his head, between his ears just as you do. “It’s getting late, shouldn’t you be running up to Y/n, hmm? Cuddling up to them? Making me all jealous?”

Auguste purred in his arms. You could see him moving Auguste around in his arms, bouncing him in his arms like a baby. “You should go up. Don’t want ‘em to come down and look for you, do you? What would we do if I was caught, hmm? Then I’d never be able to come and see the two of you?”

Auguste meowed up at him, pawing at the man’s face.

“You’re right. Maybe it’s time that I finally introduced myself to your parent. Then I could win them over and finally take both of you away with me.”

Auguste let out a disgruntled noise, before licking at the man’s cheek.

“Okay, okay,” the man relented. “I’ll move in instead, happy? Then all three of us can live happily ever together in this beautiful, clean house. Think you could cuddle up to me when I come over for the first time when they invite me over for the first time? If they think you just instantly loved me, then I might win them over even quicker!” The man laughed quietly.

“You, me, and—” he turned around and locked eyes with you. “—Y/n.”

The two of you stared at each other. Both frozen in place as if your bones and flesh had turned into marble. Auguste looked between the two of you, seemingly confused. He began to fidget in the man’s arms, causing the man’s arms to tighten around him. Auguste let out a frustrated hiss before the man jumped, releasing him from his arms and finally pressing play on the two of you.

“Y/n, I can explain—”

“Who the hell are you?” You demanded.

“I’m, um, I’m…” His hands balled into fists as he shifted from foot to foot. Almost like he wanted to run away.

“Your name,” you stressed, taking a step into the kitchen from the doorframe. “I’m asking for your name.”

His lips were pursed together. “I don’t, um… I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that…”

You raised your eyebrows, an incredulous scoff passing through you. “But you’re supposed to be in my house?”

The man could see your expression even though his shadow was covering you, but even if he couldn’t, your tone made it clear that you weren’t happy.

“I was… just cleaning.”

“Oh! Just cleaning? Oh that makes it so much better. Now I’m not concerned at all with this stranger standing in my kitchen!”

He winced. The man knew he’d said the wrong thing.

You moved to grab a knife from the knife block near you, pointing it at him with both hands. With your hands preoccupied, the blanket had fallen from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, just missing Auguste. “You have five seconds to tell me your name and why you’re here before I kill you.”

The man’s eyes widened, slowly raising his hands in alarm. Why is it that he was in your house uninvited, but he felt like the one who needed to call the cops? “Uh, come on, Y/n. We don’t have to go that far,” he tried.

Your eyes darkened, taking another step towards the man. “Don’t say my name. Don’t you fucking dare say my name.”

The man backed up until he was pressed against the counter, his hands coming back to steady himself. You continued closer to him, until you had the tip of the blade pressed against his adam's apple.

“Tell me your name before I slit your throat!” you screamed at him, eyes crazed.

“Fine! Fine, my name is Jung Hoseok. I met you once, at a bar.” Hoseok had turned his head slightly away from your knife, eyes screwed tight. Hands clenching tightly to the counter for dear life.

“Who the fuck cares how I met you? All I care about is that I have a name to give the police when they come to collect your body!” You pulled the knife back and straightened your aim for his jugular. But just before you could bring the knife down on his flesh, your cat began meowing like crazy at your feet.

He was on his hind legs, his front paws clawing at both your legs as he cried, wheezing his little heart out at the both of you. You’d never seen Auguste so stressed. You’d always kept him so happy.

You took a step back from his sharp claws, pulling your calf up to try and soothe the marks Auguste had scraped onto you.

You watched as Hoseok, given the room to move around freely now, scooped Auguste right up into his arms, pressing hisses to Auguste’s upset face.

“Hey there,” he sweetly spoke to your cat. “Now, now, your parent isn’t hurting me. It’s okay. Shhh, shhhhhh, it’s okay. They are just a bit surprised, okay? They won’t hurt me. See, I’m not hurt.” He raised his chin to show Auguste his neck. “See, I’m a-okay.” You watched Auguste relax in Hoseok’s hold, moving to lick all over his face as if he was trying to heal him.

“Now why don’t you ask your parent, not to kill me, hmm?”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Are you trying to use my cat to manipulate me?”

Hoseok just shook his head, Auguste still curled up in his arms purring. “No, just trying to get him to talk some sense into you.”

“You’re talking about a cat right now.” You brought the knife back up, pointing it at him as he took a step forward. Auguste immediately straightened up, hissing at you.

“Did–Did you just hiss at me?!” You asked your cat, only for him to swipe at you with his claws. Even though you were out of reach for him to scratch you, the damage had already been done. “You’re choosing the intruder over me?!”

Auguste hissed at you again.

Hoseok laughed sweetly, too sweetly for the fact that you had a knife aimed right at him while he had nothing to protect himself with. It only made your anger heighten. “Don’t you know, you’re talking to a cat right now?” he threw your words right back at you.

“Oh fuck off!” You moved to cut him with the knife, only for Auguste to hiss at you again, this time his claws actually landing on you, cutting open your forearm. “Auguste! What the hell?!” You dropped the knife, narrowly missing your foot as you stepped back in pain.

Hoseok gasped, pulling the cat back from you. “Auguste! You can’t do that to Y/n! No matter what they do to me, you don’t hit them!”

Auguste only made a smug sound as he stared at you from his place in Hoseok’s arms.

“What black magic did you do to him?! Why does he like you more than me? Why is he protecting you and not me!”

Hoseok immediately tried to reassure you. “Oh no, Y/n, you misunderstand! Our baby doesn’t pick favourites! He loves you just as much as he loves me. He only did that ‘cause you had a knife! Now that you put it down and he knows you won’t hurt me, he’s fine, see?”

He held Auguste out into your face by his armpits. Auguste only stayed silent as he stared into your soul. He had never seemed so upset with you.

“Come on, Auguste,” he coaxed your cat, your baby into being kind to you. “Give them a kiss so they know you love them just as you love me.”

Auguste refused to lick you, but with some more of Hoseok’s sweet encouragement, he pressed the pads of his paw against the tip of your nose. Seemingly, the most affection he was willing to give you after you almost killed his second favourite person. Or maybe his first, you weren’t really sure if you were still number one in his eyes with the blatant aggression he’d shown you tonight on Hoseok’s behalf.

“See, Y/n.” Hoseok brought Auguste back against his check, only for him to instantly start purring again. “He doesn’t hate you. Do you, Auguste?”

You watched as Hoseok fussed over Auguste and how Auguste, in turn, revelled in his affection just like he always did with you.

You were never gonna be able to get rid of Hoseok now were you?

No you will not lol

In case you're wondering, Hoseok broke into your house by the window in the kitchen. Which is why it was open, and also why your house was getting so cold so quickly. Like yeah, the night was cold anyway, but it was made worse by him leaving the door open.

Auguste does love the two of you equally... at least that is what Hoseok thinks. But after Hoseok making it routine to come into your house to wipe the counters, sweep, reorganize your pantry, snoop through your things and watch you while you sleep, and give Auguste plenty of pets and give him company during his nightly walks around the house, he'd quickly become number one. But you were still a very close second.

Oh yeah, also, Auguste was not the one who was making all that noise the past 8 or 9 months, it was Hoseok. Auguste just inadvertently took the blame lol

Anyways, let me know if you enjoyed. Hearing what you guys think is why I post anything in the first place, so please do comment. It lets me know that I'm not wasting time posting my silly ramblings.

Take care!

#yandere bts #yandere hoseok #yandere hobi #yandere j-hope #yandere jung hoseok #yandere bis drabbles #yandere hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x reader #yandere jung hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #hobi fanfic #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere au #Ev's writing #series: love amour aur pyaar

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