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togenabi · 2 years ago

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the promised knight

knight!roronoa zoro x princess!reader

♡— after a lifetime apart, zoro finds his way back to you

word count♡— 8.7k (screams into the void)

genre♡— royalty au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn bc a lot of things happen, but there's fluff bc I need there to be

content notes♡— fem!reader wears dresses, mentions of death and grief, very plot heavy, kuina and mihawk are here, canon-typical violence, original side characters, no use of y/n, proofread(ish), inaccurate royalty things, inaccurate chemistry/poisons/acids, yes I got the name florentia from ill be the matriarch

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— quick explanation!: a regent has no right to the throne, they're just someone stepping in temporarily while the next monarch is absent or unable to execute their powers. happy reading!!

Your happiest years were when everyone was together.

Those were the days you’d sneak out of your lessons to go play in the training grounds. You’d find your best friends arguing about something or other, fighting with wooden swords and chasing each other around.

Kuina and Zoro did their best to include you in whatever game they were playing. You found it all good fun, even if you were mostly being rescued or hidden away somewhere. The proud smiles on their faces when they saved you always made the wait for them worth it.

“Why do I have to play the bad guy?” A young Zoro whines, frowning deeply with shoulders slumped. His wooden sword hangs lazily in his hand, pointed to the ground.

Opposite him, Kuina’s blade was up, stable and correct with proper posture. “Because we agreed I would save the princess today!”

You remember sending Zoro a small smile, trying to reassure him, “You can save me next time, Zoro. I promise.”

Zoro complained, but gave his all acting as a bandit out to rob you. You and Kuina would run into the meadow—hands held in each other’s—squealing and laughing. You’d always end up collapsed together; among the grass and the flowers. They would cheer and scream into the sky, happy that the great knights protected their princess once again.

But that same meadow is now covered with a blanket of melancholy. The colors aren’t as vibrant as they were back then. Flowers no longer bloom like they did. The children’s laughter has been replaced by a deafening silence.

Everything changed when Kuina died.

She was hit by a stray arrow, they said. They called it a tragic accident.

More sadness only seemed to follow after she was gone. Zoro left without a word, abandoning his training, and you along with it. Your mother, Queen Florentia, passed due to an illness a few months after that. In a blink of an eye, you lost everything back then.

The large doors to your chambers slam shut, breaking you from your train of thought. The thud echoes into every corner before fading into noiselessness once more.

A maid rushes in, completely out of breath and practically stumbling towards you. “Your Highness!” She gasps. Waving a hand, you gesture for her to calm down.

“Selma,” You pour her some water in a glass. It’s strange to see your personal maid so distressed. “What did you find?”

Practically inhaling the water, she places a hand over her heart before explaining, “You were right, Your Ladyship. The commander informed me that several knights had poison hidden in their quarters.”

Her eyes trail to the glass she’s holding, then to the pitcher. Selma’s face becomes appalled as it sinks in that you had poured her a drink. You cut her off before she can make a fuss about it.

“Never mind all that.” There are more pressing matters than decorum right now. “What else did Mihawk say? Have the knights been apprehended?”

“No, my Lady.” Selma retrieves a transparent vial from her pocket. “The commander said there's a chance the poisons were planted. Trustworthy men could have been framed… He discourages you from trusting any of them at all.”

The vial is small, barely larger than your thumb. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing is there. You hold it up to the window, letting the sun’s setting rays shine through the glass.

There it is. A near-invisible, lavender sheen in liquid. The queen regent’s signature poison.

“Damn it all.” You sigh, falling into an armchair.

It’s common knowledge that most of the people are loyal to Queen Regent Cassiopeia. Not to you, the rightful heir to the throne.

Ever since she took the position after your mother’s death, she’s been doing everything in her power to discredit you. Though she's not in the official line of succession, her goal is to become queen by any means necessary.

You’ve only been able to hold on for so long because there are still people loyal to your mother, like Commander Mihawk. However, it will take only one slip up for your standing to collapse. Cassiopeia knows this, and you suspect that she plans to completely ruin you at the upcoming knighting ceremony.

On a paneled wall in your room, encased in an ornate golden frame, hangs a portrait of Queen Florentia. The gold reminds you of the gilded dagger she gave you as a child.

Subconsciously, your hand moves to rest over your pocket; where the dagger is hidden under your skirt. What would your mother have done in this situation?

You scan the painting as if the image would respond. It doesn’t, but your eyes settle on the necklace she’s wearing. It was her most prized possession, and she had promised to give it to you when you were older, but it’s sadly lost to time.

The vial grows heavy in your fist. Your mother would stop at nothing until Cassiopeia is defeated, so that’s what you’ll set out to do.

“Selma, get me some ink and parchment.” You order, feeling more determined. “I have a plan.”

Dracule Mihawk burned the note as soon as he finished reading it. Your idea was brilliant, if only a little complicated to execute.

Cassiopeia will demand you choose a personal knight during the ceremony. Assuming all the knights are loyal to the queen regent, none of them would be a safe choice.

So, you asked Mihawk to hire a skilled fighter to pose as a knight. Someone whose loyalty cannot be bought. Immediately, he knew who to recruit. Though he warned you that you might not find the man… agreeable.

“I don’t care.” You replied stubbornly. “I can’t afford to be picky. Just make sure that he won’t kill me in my sleep.”

Mihawk muses that he might be killed by you in his sleep. Because in a shady, run-down tavern, he sits beside a familiar green-haired swordsman nursing a drink at the bar.

“Fancy seeing you here, commander.” Zoro spits out the title in disgust.

“It seems that some things never change.” Mihawk hums. “You’re still in the same place as you were when we last fought.”

“And your legend ends with you kissing up to that false queen.” Disappointment practically drips from his tone.

“And here you are,” There’s an amused glint in the knight commander’s eye. “...still not able to beat me, Roronoa Zoro.”

Zoro’s jaw clenches in frustration. He breathes out deeply, “What do you want, old man?”

“Join my knights.”

Scoffing, Zoro can’t believe his ears. Is this guy serious? “I’m no knight. Not anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mihawk tests. “The princess needs someone not easily dissuaded.”

At the mention of you, Zoro freezes. He squints at the commander as it dawns on him, “You don’t serve that Cassiopeia bitch.”

“Obviously.”

“But why did you become commander only after Queen Florentia died?” Zoro asks. “Everyone thought you were bought off.”

“That’s besides the point.” Mihawk hisses. “I know you’ve been wanting to make it up to the princess. I’m giving you a chance to do that on a silver platter.”

Zoro stays quiet, eyes watching the alcohol ripple in his glass. He’s not drunk enough for this discussion. And he meant what he said, that he’s not a knight. That dream died with Kuina, and he chose to pursue less honorable ways to become stronger.

It’s funny how Mihawk, who was an outlaw, traded his jacket for a suit of armor. And now, he's trying to act righteous. But some things are just—

“It’s not too late to change things.” Mihawk attempts to persuade him, calmer this time. “Something tells me you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Shaking his head, Zoro can’t believe this man is talking like he knows him. “What do you know about regret?”

When the commander doesn’t respond, Zoro turns to see Mihawk’s face, a grave expression marks his features.

“I know far too much, I’m afraid.”

Zoro studies him for a moment longer, curious as to what he meant—but he doesn’t dare ask. Only an idiot would test Dracule Mihawk.

This master swordsman, whom he’s looked up to for so many years, has changed drastically. Perhaps everyone has. It makes Zoro wonder how much you might’ve changed in the years he’s been gone.

You. He’s—there’s so much he wants to say. So much he wants to ask… but does he have the right to?

Who is he kidding? He doesn’t.

And yet, Zoro can’t help but wonder if he passes on this opportunity and regrets it, would he spend the rest of his life wishing he could make up for it?

After downing his drink, Zoro slams the glass on the bar counter.

“What do I need to do?”

Selma assists you with your hair and makeup on the day of the ceremony. She’s practically buzzing as she flutters around you. It’s nice that she’s still enthusiastic about things like these, even when dangers lurk in the shadows.

“You look stunning, Your Ladyship!” She gushes, adjusting the different layers of your dress so that it falls on you perfectly. “A vision, you are. Just like Queen Florentia.”

“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, despite not feeling as sure and confident as your mother was. Would that change, if you were to become queen?

A knock sounds on your door. Selma rushes to answer it, and lets Mihawk into your chambers. He steps in, but remains by the entryway.

“You look lovely, princess.” The commander bows to you in greeting. “I was instructed to escort you once you’re ready.”

Nodding, you approach him and hold onto his arm. “Let us be on our way.”

Keeping your face carefully neutral, you whisper to Mihawk under your breath, “Will you really not let me know the knight’s name? How am I supposed to know who to appoint?”

“You’ll know.” Mihawk pats your hand reassuringly. “Without a doubt, you’ll know. I just hope you’re not too hard on him.”

You side-eye him. “He’s not a convict or something, is he?”

Mihawk presses his mouth shut. This bastard, is he trying not to laugh? “You might actually prefer a convict over him.”

That pulls a frown out of you that you cannot contain. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Is the man that bad? How are you supposed to mentally prepare with such vague warnings?

All thoughts of the mystery knight fade into the back of your mind, however, when you and Mihawk make your entrance at the throne room.

The extravagant hall is decorated to the nines. Flags of different family crests hang from the ceiling. Flowers bloom at every window sill. You smile at it all, at your people—but it fails to reach your eyes. It’s difficult to truly smile when Cassiopeia stands dangerously close to your mother’s throne.

You curtsy when you reach the steps, one hand still on Mihawk’s arm as the fabric of your skirt dips onto the floor. You hear murmurs of approval from the ministers in the front row, pleased to see the good relationship between the princess and queen regent.

But they don’t see through your gloves, how your grip on your skirt is tense and far too tight. They don’t see how Cassiopeia’s smile is truly a smirk when you lower your head to her.

“Lovely to have you here, darling.” She says, and you fight the urge to laugh. ‘Lovely’ would be if she accepted her place and let go of her greed.

Mihawk guides you to the smaller throne on the left. This has been your seat since you were born. If Cassiopeia had her way, it would be your seat until the end of your days.

She glides to the center of the dais, the train of her excessive dress flows like a river after her. She stands; graceful, powerful and smiling—but she will never be happy until she can sit on the throne and wear your mother’s crown.

Whatever it takes, you will find a way to stop her.

“Welcome to the long-awaited knighting ceremony.” Cassiopeia addresses the audience. “It is an honor to have the kingdom’s finest pledge to serve and protect us.”

The ceremony proceeds to speeches from several dignitaries. Mihawk delivers a short yet intense declamation about the knightage being the greatest honor; and hands the queen regent an elaborate, bejeweled sword.

“These warriors before us today are hereby called forward to receive Knighthood. The kingdom will forever be grateful for your service.” Cassiopeia proclaims.

Attentively observing the knights lined up, you keep an eye out for the one Mihawk recruited for you. One at a time, Cassiopeia announces their name before tapping their shoulders with the ornamental blade.

You grow restless as the line dwindles. Frustrated, you throw questioning looks at the commander’s direction. He skillfully avoids your gaze. The nerve.

When only about five men are left, you begin to study them all and weigh your options. Perhaps you should pick someone with a smaller build, so that you can have a better chance of escaping? You also spotted someone who appeared clumsy. If you were to outsmart him, your odds of surviving weren’t so bleak.

But then—dramatically, as if in slow motion—the great doors to the throne room opened with a loud, booming sound. Everyone turned as light poured into the hall.

A swordsman makes his entrance. His armor is unassuming, but the three blades at his side demand attention. He wears a helmet over his head, but even after so much time, you’d know those eyes anywhere.

Mihawk was right. You would have preferred a convict—or maybe some rogue, or a thief who would rob you blind. You would have preferred anyone over Roronoa Zoro.

You thought you’d never see him again, but he’s here, marching towards the end of the line. You gape at him, feeling too many emotions all at once. Why is he here? Why now?

Mihawk intercepts Cassiopeia before she can question Zoro’s identity. “Forgive me, queen regent. This young man ran late due to an errand I sent him out on.”

How brilliant of him. Cassiopeia hates unexpected interruptions, but would never express her frustrations openly with so many people watching.

It’s amusing to see her grin and bear it. “That’s… quite alright, commander. I’m glad he made it before the end of the ceremony.”

When only Zoro remains to be appointed, you stand and call for the queen regent’s attention.

“Should he accept, this man shall be my personal knight.” You declare as Zoro’s gaze meets yours.

“What of your decision, knight?” Cassiopeia asks. Zoro nods, and the queen regent’s gaze sharpens. She understands that something is amiss, but passes the decorated blade to you without a word.

Back when you were children, you used to dream of this moment together. Kuina and Zoro would kneel before you on the grass beneath a shining sun, pledging their unwavering loyalty as you tap their shoulders with a stick.

You’re no longer children, but as Zoro kneels before you now, you still feel like a child all the same. Your clothes feel too big. The throne room is too vast; the ceiling too high. The sword is too heavy in your hands as you raise it.

“Roronoa Zoro. I hereby dub thee into the honorable order of knights as my chosen protector.” The blade lands on his shoulder—his right first, then the other. You pray to the stars that no one notices your hold quivering.

“Arise, Sir Zoro, and be recognized.”

You’re no longer children, but you’re still here. Playing a different sort of game.

Mihawk, the wise man that he is, makes himself scarce after the ceremony. You’re left to awkwardly journey back to your chambers with Zoro in tow. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head.

Selma is there when you get back, your usual afternoon refreshments prepared. She approaches you, but stops short when she sees Zoro.

“Leave us.” You tell her. She obeys, albeit reluctantly—looking back over her shoulder more than once as she exits.

After the door closes shut, the outside world feels a million miles away; making the air feel tense. You hastily take off your gloves, the fabric suddenly feels constricting against your skin. Every fiber of your being wants to scream at him.

Roronoa Zoro. Your best friend who had left all those years ago. You don’t even know where to start.

Maybe throwing something at him will make you feel better.

You throw one of your gloves. The fabric hits his chest before falling pathetically.

“Seriously?” Zoro frowns at you, unimpressed. You throw the other one. It meets the same fate.

Grumbling under his breath, Zoro takes off his helmet. It vexes you how you subconsciously hold your breath until you see his face.

You huff skeptically, “Why are you here?”

“Mihawk said you needed help.” He answers with a shrug, causing his armor clink.

After a breath, he speaks cautiously, “I didn’t know things had gotten this bad.”

“How could you have known?” You bite back, “You left, Zoro.”

In a sense, you understand why Mihawk chose him. You asked for someone who wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, and Zoro—at least, the one you knew—definitely wouldn’t.

Some (rational) part of your brain is telling you to keep quiet and accept his help. With Cassiopeia planning a mutiny, time is something you don’t have a lot of.

But your heart still feels angry and hurt when you see his—stupidly handsome—face. The years just had to treat him well, didn’t they?

“I’m thankful for your help,” You admit disgruntledly. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Zoro calls your name. It makes your heart ache a bit, but you hold a hand up to silence him.

“Please, just—I need time to process this, Zoro.” Turning away from the knight, your eyes find the window. The sunset paints the meadow in deep oranges and blues. It doesn’t make you feel any better.

“...We’ll talk tomorrow.” You promise, your tiredness evident from your tone.

Zoro lingers, hesitating. But he doesn’t push you. You hear his armor shift as he bows before he leaves.

That night, Zoro stands guard outside your door. It’s good that no one else is around, it allows him to think in peace. About you.

The last time Zoro saw you, you were a small thing, getting dirt on the edge of your skirt. When he saw you today, sullying even the path you walked on felt like a crime.

He knew you would be mad. He had prepared himself to be yelled at. Maybe he thought you would cry. How much you went through didn’t really sink in until he saw how exhausted you were.

All the things he wanted to say, every apology and excuse, fade into nothing. The first thing he wants to tell you is how thankful he is that you’re still alive. It doesn’t matter that you stay mad at him forever, he’ll protect you for just as long.

Footsteps sound through the dim hallway. Zoro rests a hand on his blades, ready to fight back anyone who poses a threat. A knight he’s not acquainted with approaches, his steps staggering just a bit. The man carries a bottle of alcohol.

“Hey! New guy!” The stranger bellows. “This ’ere is a little something we prepared for ya, since yous didn’t eat dinner with us.” Zoro makes a mental note that they’ve been watching him.

“Take it, take it.” The knight tries to shove the bottle into Zoro’s hands. At the last second, Zoro spots a knife the man hides behind his back.

Quick on his feet, Zoro jabs the man’s neck, causing him to stumble. The knight charges at him, but Zoro effortlessly dodges. Grabbing the knight’s shoulder, Zoro slams his head onto the stone wall.

The bottle clatters to the floor as his opponent collapses, looking up at him in fear. Picking up the glass, Zoro sniffs at its contents. It’s laced with some sort of sedative.

Zoro pries the knight’s jaw open before pouring the drugged beverage into his mouth. The amber liquid spills. The man coughs, gurgling and struggling in vain until he slumps onto the ground.

Observing the bottle inquisitively, Zoro shakes his head before dropping it again. What kind of amateurish attempt was this? Is the queen regent testing his skills?

If anything, all this managed to do was—Zoro starts, turning to your door in alarm—…divert his attention.

Not a second later, he kicks down your door. The elaborately carved wood falls from its hinges, dust clouds billow once it crashes on the previously spotless tiles of your room.

You’re fighting off three large strangers clad in black, a dagger in your hand. Zoro tries not to think about how your eyes softened in relief when they landed on him as he cuts down one of the intruders. Maybe you still care for him a little.

“Took you long enough!” Or not.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grunts back, slashing his sword at someone charging towards you. Zoro only realizes the deeper meaning to his words when you make a face.

“Don’t make being late a habit, Zoro!” Stabbing an intruder’s side, you quip at him, “You and your dramatic entrances, I swear.”

Zoro bites back a grin. He missed you more than you’ll ever know.

After taking down one of the intruders, you hide in your wardrobe as Zoro deals with the rest.

It would be smart to lock the door. Barricade it, so that no one can get to you on the off chance Zoro is defeated. But you don’t. You keep the door ajar to watch everything unfold. The way he fights is a captivating sight.

Look at him. Your knight in lackluster armor. Protecting you like how you always talked about as kids. He’s wielding two blades, one for each perpetrator still standing. You blink in surprise when you make out the third, sheathed blade. Kuina’s.

The more you examine him, the more you see how different he seems. He carries himself more confidently, unlike that boy who whined about roles, responsibilities and challenges.

You also see how gruff he’s become. He’s grown stronger, for sure, but you get the sense that he’s closed himself off from the world. Perhaps the years weren’t as kind to him as you'd thought.

The last intruder lets out a pitiful cry as Zoro knocks him unconscious.

“I’ll tie them up and let Mihawk deal with them in the morning.” Zoro says, pausing to breathe for a moment before dragging the men out by their feet.

Emerging from your wardrobe, you become dismayed at the sight of your room in such a state. “Did you really have to kick down the door?” You groan.

Surprisingly, Zoro blanks, appearing sheepish. ��...I didn’t know it would break like that. I just—you should get a damn better door.” He mumbles, heaving the doors up and resting them against the wall outside.

When he comes back from restraining the intruders, he stands before you awkwardly—like he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not fighting or cleaning up bodies.

No one says anything. You both just take each other in, not completely recognizing the person that looks back.

You don’t feel so angry at him anymore. When all’s said and done, everyone has different ways of dealing with grief. Your heart only grows conflicted, wishing you had been there for each other instead of being apart. Goodness knows you could have used someone by your side. You’re sure he did as well.

“I—” Zoro falters. “...I’m glad you’re okay.”

‘Okay’ isn’t how you would describe your current state, but you nod anyway.

“You too, Zoro.”

In a secluded alcove in the royal gardens the following afternoon, you invite Mihawk for tea on the pretense of thanking him for your newly sworn knight. The story that spread was that you would have been done for were it not for Zoro. You don’t want to think about how true that might be.

“The queen regent is furious you were able to secure a knight loyal to you.” Mihawk informs you as he helps himself to some pastries. “We should avoid meeting for a while, lest she suspect anything of me.”

“Alright.” You agree. “Selma also informed me that we can gather statements from mistreated staff.” You show Mihawk a list of names. “If enough of them support us, and if we can prove Cassiopeia orchestrated what happened last night… We can take her down.”

“She will be busy attending a gala this evening. I’ll make sure no one is near her office while she’s gone.” Mihawk turns to Zoro, who is standing guard behind you, sending him a fearsome look. “Those men got a tad too close last night—”

“Mihawk.” You warn him to drop it. He doesn’t.

“Ensure that it doesn’t happen again, young man.”

“It won’t.” Zoro replies icily. The commander only huffs in response.

‘It won't happen.’, he said. But trouble finds you when Zoro steps on a tripwire in Cassiopeia's office. Arrows soar, launching from scattered, hidden contraptions. Zoro shoves you into a bookshelf, covering your frame with his.

“So much for her not finding out we were here.” You remark sarcastically, waiting for him to step back.

But then, as they cage your head, Zoro’s arms tense up. His expression contorts in discomfort.

“...Zoro?” Raising your hands, you cradle the sides of his face.

“Damn arrows,” He growls. “I think they’re poisoned.”

“What?!” You gasp, ducking under his arm to check his back. You find a wound where an arrow grazed his skin. “Of course you get injured when you don’t wear your armor.”

“Why don’t you try sneaking around in that thing, then?” Zoro argues, but you’re startled when the wound begins to bleed.

“We need to get you treated.” Panicking, you grab his arm and pull him along. He doesn’t budge. “Zoro, we should go.”

“No.” He refuses, hissing in pain all the while. “That bitch won’t let us find a way in here again. Let’s just be quick.”

“...Fine.” You cave, still worried, hating that he’s right. “At least stay still, search the desk. I’ll handle everything else.”

Zoro relents, opening every drawer and scanning every document in them. You turn your attention to the shelves, trying to find hidden compartments or anything that looks remotely suspicious.

It's not long before a loud crash makes you wince. Zoro found something.

A panel beneath the desk detaches, revealing an ornate box. Studying it, you hum, “It looks like we’ll need a key.” Zoro unsheathes one of his blades, cutting through the lock until it cracks open.

You shake your head. “Or we could do that, sure.”

However, instead of the nefarious plans or blueprints you were hoping for, you find old papers. All of them yellowing with age.

“It’s your handwriting.” Zoro points out, picking up the first document.

“What?” You lean in, reading the file over his shoulder. It’s a letter written to acknowledge a transfer of money. But the amount is astronomical, and you don’t remember signing anything of the sort.

“Look at the date.” Pointing to the corner, it reads more than ten years ago. And then it clicks, “My mother wrote this.”

“There’s more than one.” Zoro sifts through the papers, counting over ten.

“All of them are addressed to… Shimotsuki Koushirou?” He reads the name slowly. You look at each other, confused. Why would Queen Florentia be sending payments to Kuina’s father?

A tall longcase clock chimes to signal the hour. If you clean up now and review the evidence later, you can make it look like you were never here. You instruct Zoro to pack up the box.

“We should head out soon.” You say, moving to pick up the arrows scattered on the floor.

“Be careful.” Zoro reminds you.

“I am.” You show him that you’re holding the arrows by their tail ends. “You can go ahead, if you want. Get that wound treated.”

“Do you really think I would leave you?” You can’t help the incredulous look you send his way.

“...Forget I said anything.”

Back in your chambers, you twirl an arrow you decided to keep as evidence while examining the documents sprawled out on your carpet.

Zoro grabs it from your hand. “I thought I told you to be careful with that.”

You think aloud as he sets the arrow to the side, “I just can’t figure out why my mother gave Koushirou so much money.”

“Maybe she felt bad about the accident.” Your swordsman suggests. “We all did.”

“But why did she have to keep it quiet…” Mumbling in thought, you read the last receipt Queen Florentia signed. It had been penned the week of her death.

The sky grows darker, and it becomes more difficult to see. Zoro strikes a match to light a few candles, bathing the room in a subtle, warm light.

Beneath the dim, flickering flames, the sharp arrow on your tea table glints ominously.

It took you a long while to get over spacing out whenever you saw an arrow. It was one of the things that affected you after Kuina’s passing.

Sometimes, you think of how much better everything would be if she was still here. If it weren’t for that—

…accident?

“Zoro?” Your voice is unsteady, “...What do you remember about Kuina’s death?”

“It was some new guy at the training grounds.” He answers, frowning as he recalls what happened. “He misfired, and his knighthood got revoked after that.”

“But,” Memories come flooding back as you try to piece things together. “If the archers were practicing that day, what was Kuina doing in the grounds?”

“Kuina wasn’t in the grounds.” Zoro corrects you. “She was in that meadow we always went to.”

He points to the view outside, raising a finger to trace the horizon. “The arrow flew through the fence, but it was really dangerous, even—”

Zoro turns back to you with wide eyes. “Even the queen was almost hit! Holy shit, she was there to observe that day.”

You blink at him in disbelief, “My mother was the real target.”

“And she didn’t want the culprit to know she realized, which is why she kept quiet about the money.”

You collapse into a chair as you run your hands over your head. “Did anyone ever check the arrow for poison?”

“No.” Zoro’s face crumples. “She was hit straight in the heart... She wouldn’t have made it even if it wasn’t poisoned.”

“Oh, Kuina…” You choke back a sob, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry it took us this long.”

“Wait.” Zoro calls out your name, taking your hand and kneeling in front of you. The strength of his grip hurts, but you don’t mind it. You need to feel that he’s with you right now; especially when his next question makes your heart fall through the floor.

“How did your mother die?”

“She—she got sick. A lot of our people got sick that year.” You answer shakily, not liking where this is going. “Do you think…”

“Queen Florentia could have been poisoned.” Zoro whispers. “And I bet that fake bitch was responsible for it. For Kuina’s death too.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You counter, “Cassiopeia deals with poisons, sure, but she wasn’t even in the kingdom yet then.”

“...Someone must have betrayed your mother so Cassiopeia could be queen regent.” He suggests, rubbing circles into your palm. “Because isn’t it convenient, how she was there to bring the people together after Her Majesty died?”

It’s confusing how the world seems to have slowed down, and yet your mind is spinning so quickly, you can’t process anything. You squeeze Zoro’s hand to anchor you, but you shatter all the same.

“I hate everything.” You cry, tears streaming down your face. “I hate how I didn’t know—but we were kids! How were we supposed to know? And, I hate feeling so powerless. What—how, are we going to fix this?”

“We’ll find a way, I promise.” Zoro moves to embrace your form, but you glare at him.

“You. I hate you too.” You push him away weakly, but he doesn’t let you go. “I—I hate that you left, Zoro… You have no idea how lost I was.”

His eyes glisten with tears. “I was lost without you too.”

Zoro feels you melt into his arms. Your strength just vanishes, and you slump forward until your forehead touches his.

“...Don’t leave me then.” You whisper. You beg.

He holds your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Never.”

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Zoro pressing the softest kiss to your temple as he tucks you in bed.

Selma barges in the next morning, slamming the (newly repaired) doors open. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you’re starting to feel sad for the abuse your doors have been going through lately.

“Princess! Your Ladyship! Your Highness—” She stops abruptly, covering her mouth, looking scandalized. What is she so flabbergasted by—

Only then do you see Zoro sleeping on the floor beside you. He’s leaning on the bed, using his forearms as a pillow. One of his hands is intertwined tightly with yours.

“Your Highness!” Selma gasps playfully, gesturing to your mother’s portrait. “Right in front of Her Majesty!”

“Selma,” You sit up, letting go of Zoro’s hand. “Did you have anything important to report?”

“Ah!” She exclaims, face becoming worried once more, “The commander has been imprisoned!”

You curse, shaking Zoro’s shoulder to wake him. “Couldn’t you have told me that first?”

“Forgive me, princess. It’s not everyday I see you holding hands with a man. May I ask who confessed first, Your Highness?”

“Oh my god, Selma.” You groan. “Just go prepare my clothes.”

“Shall I dress you, or will Sir Zoro—”

“Selma!”

If Zoro heard any of Selma’s ramblings, he’s excellent at hiding it. You both get ready in record time. After which, he leads the way to the dungeons; careful to make sure you don’t run into anyone.

“We can sneak him out through that secret passage we used to play in.” You whisper, your knight nods.

“When we get to him, break the lock with your dagger. I’ll stand guard in case someone comes over.”

But someone already beat you to Mihawk’s cell. Zoro pulls you into a shadowed corner to hide.

The queen regent paces in front of the bars, her extravagant dress and cape out of place in this gloomy dungeon.

Mihawk is on the ground, his wrists chained with heavy shackles. Yoru is noticeably missing from his back. Seeing him like this is heartbreaking.

“I should have known you’d help that wench.” Cassiopeia sneers. “You’ll regret not siding with me soon enough, Dracule.”

“Now that you’ve found me out, I can finally ask you to stop calling me that.” Mihawk yawns. “My name always sounded revolting in your voice.” Crazy bastard, will it kill him to try to stay alive?

“But Florentia called you that, didn’t she?”

Zoro squints at how something about Mihawk changes at the mention of your mother. It’s almost imperceptible, but the air shifts dangerously. The queen regent should watch her mouth.

“Her name sounds revolting in your voice too.”

Cassiopeia scoffs. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Mihawk leans back, crossing his legs. “That’s not a good habit, Cassie.”

The queen regent kicks the cell. Mihawk doesn't flinch as she snarls, “I’ll deal with the princess and that knight... I’ll make you watch as the light fades from their eyes.” Gathering her skirt, her heels clack loudly as she stomps away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you and Zoro run to the commander.

“Mihawk!” You call out as you stab the lock with your dagger. It crumbles to the ground after a few strikes. “What happened? What did she charge you with?”

“Treason, apparently.” He shrugs, the chains holding him rattling together.

Mihawk goes on as you break his shackles, “This kingdom should be grateful we’re trying at all. We could easily leave them to their own devices—” You frown at him.

“...But of course, we won’t do that.”

Sneaking into the library, you regroup with Selma; who passes on vital information.

“The queen regent has the palace on lockdown. Everyone has orders to take you in.” She tells you. “But I’ve rallied the staff. We're going to plead your case to the ministers, Your Highness.”

“Thank you. Do you have my mother's letters?” She nods. “Good. Use them well. I'll make sure your efforts will not go to waste.” You say, giving her hands a firm squeeze.

“Where’s that fake queen now?” Zoro looks eager for a fight.

“One of the butlers said that the queen regent disappears sometimes, and no one knows where she goes.” Selma explains, passing you a note from her source. “There are rumors that she smells like grass when she returns.”

Mihawk lets out a disbelieving laugh, “She must be at the secret garden.”

“The what?” You ask. That sounds exactly like something you would have loved as a child, but why haven’t you heard of it before?

“It’s a place reserved for queens. Only crowned monarchs should be allowed in there, or even know where it is.” He says. “That woman truly doesn’t know her place.”

“Why do you know about it?” Zoro asks.

After a pause, the older swordsman deflects, “I’ve been called a queen once.”

“Mihawk,” You urge him to be serious. “Can you take us there?”

Before he responds, Mihawk looks at you with something you can’t fully discern, as if he’s recalling an old memory.

“Of course. It’s your birthright, after all.”

The entrance to the secret garden is hidden in a passageway beneath the greenhouse. You imagine your mother walking along this path, to a sanctuary she could truly call her own.

But the vision darkens when you think of how Cassiopeia has been using the space all this time. You hope you're still able to recognize traces of your mother when you get there.

An iron gate stands at the end of the path. Vines tangle through the metal spirals and flowers. Mihawk holds a finger to his lips, carefully opening the gates without a sound except for the rustling of leaves. You all crouch behind a large plant that fans out, over your heads.

And then, you see it. You see what your mother left for you.

The centerpiece of the garden is an intricate pedestal, Yoru is propped up against it. On top of it, however, is a glass case displaying your mother’s most treasured golden necklace.

You almost want to run to it, but Zoro grabs your arm, warning you not to take another step. He nods towards where Cassiopeia stands in front of oddly shaped vials and strange devices containing diff chemicals. She douses a sword with an eerie purple liquid as she speaks.

“Three against one... That hardly seems fair.” She kisses her teeth. Looking over her shoulder, she glares. “Why don’t we fight on even ground?”

Out of nowhere, a large cage falls towards the three of you. Mihawk pushes you and Zoro out of the way, but isn’t able to avoid the cage himself.

“And I just escaped. What a shame.” Mihawk fusses, but you can see that he’s relieved you’re alright.

“Maybe you’re meant to be in a cell, Dracule.” Cassiopeia remarks. “I’ll have your kids join you shortly.”

There’s only one of her, this should be easy, right?

She throws a bottle at you. Luckily, you’re able to dodge it. The bottle shatters, its contents spilling over the bystanding greenery. The liquid turns out to be acid, burning through the foliage and leaving a smoky trail.

Well, fuck.

Zoro also seems to realize how serious this fight is. For the first time since you’ve reunited, he unsheathes Kuina’s sword, placing the hilt in his mouth.

You brandish your dagger as you yell, “Really? You bite it? What would Kuina say?” He sends you a look. You try not to laugh.

And in the next second, you charge at Cassiopeia together.

It’s difficult to get close enough to land a hit. The queen regent leads you in a dance of acids and poisons. You dodge one bottle only to be met with the toxic end of her blade. It seems that your mother’s dagger won’t be enough in this fight.

“I didn't get this far to be stopped by the likes of you!” Shrieking, she lunges at you.

“You will never be queen!” You roar back.

Behind her, your eyes spot Yoru leaning on the pedestal. The blade is large and intimidating, and you’re not entirely sure if you can wield it correctly… But you might not have a choice right now.

As you were distracted, Cassiopeia’s sword almost cuts through your side. Panicking, you stumble backwards. Zoro slashes at your enemy’s wrist. Her hold on the poisoned weapon falters. It plummets with a clang.

While she’s occupied with Zoro, you rush towards Yoru. From behind the bars, Mihawk watches, holding his breath as you wrap both hands around Yoru’s hilt—but the damn thing is too heavy.

“Dear princess, you should have learned from your mother!” Cassiopeia smashes a bottle on Zoro’s head. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!”

The glass explodes into countless glittering shards. A red gas escapes into the air, and your knight inhales far too much of it.

He falls, and for that moment, the entire rest of the world vanishes until all you see is him. Your ears start to ring. His grip loosens on his swords.

No. Please. Not him. Not anyone else. No more.

Mihawk calls your name. You turn to him, on the verge of breaking down. But then, he nods once, slowly. The action reminds you to breathe—filling you with an overwhelming sense of strength. You can do this.

Screaming, you attempt to brandish Yoru again.

You swing the legendary greatsword in a perfect arc. Once it collides with the ground, the air ripples. Power surges through an invisible force headed straight for the queen regent. She tries to run, but the hit lands.

Her eyes don’t stray from yours as she collapses. In her final moments, she falls from grace, howling in agony and rage.

As a last ditch attempt, she throws one last vial of acid at Zoro. You’re about to curse the world all over again as you run to stop it.

Mihawk throws a tiny sword like a dart, miraculously breaking the container before it lands on your knight. Your knees give out, and you pull Zoro into your arms as you gasp for air.

It’s done.

Zoro wakes up to the feeling of you checking his temperature. Your hand is warm against his forehead, making him want to reach up and hold it. He should probably wake up and check on you now.

“Oh.” He hears Mihawk speak, “I didn’t realize your relationship took a certain… turn.”

On second thought, another minute of sleep won’t hurt.

“Not you too, Mihawk.” You groan. “I get enough of that from Selma.”

“Ah, yes. I heard.” The swordsman deadpans, “Hand holding. How scandalous.”

“Alright, if you’re not going to be of any help whatsoever, please just go.”

“If you wanted time alone with him, you could have just said so.”

“Goodbye, Mihawk.”

Zoro hears you escort Mihawk out, and he takes the moment alone to open his eyes. He’s in his quarters, which is a few doors down from yours so that he can easily get to you.

Not that he stays here often, Zoro prefers standing guard outside your chambers. It’s strange how he lasted years without seeing you, because now that you’re back in each other’s lives, he becomes restless whenever you’re not around.

Like right now. What’s taking you so long?

The door opens. Zoro perks up, but deflates when he sees that it’s Selma bringing in a pitcher of water.

“You could’ve at least hidden your disappointment better, Sir Zoro.” She huffs at him, taking full offense. “I’ll go get your princess.”

“Oh!” She yelps excitedly, “My bad, it’s queen anointed now, isn’t it?”

Zoro smiles, his voice raspy with sleep, “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Indeed, it does.” Selma nods, bidding him farewell.

He doesn’t have to wait long to hear your rushing footsteps. The door opens again to reveal you, this time. Your eyes shine in that really pretty way they do when you’re happy. He’s glad that’s among the things that didn’t change.

Zoro opens his arms, inviting you, “Come here.”

Not needing to be told twice, you fall into his arms, burying your face in his chest.

“You’re okay.” You murmur.

“I wasn’t about to miss your coronation, Your Majesty.” Zoro pokes your nose. He did that a lot when you were kids, you forgot how much you liked it.

“Thank you for being okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his cheek softly.

Zoro brushes his fingers through your hair. He holds your face in his hands, tracing your features as if that will help him memorize the happiness he feels in his heart. The sort of happiness he thought was lost to him forever.

“Hey,” Zoro speaks your name with care. “I love you a lot, you know.”

He always envisioned confessing to you in some dramatic, elaborate way that you’d deserve. There could have been a beautiful sunset. He would’ve brought flowers.

But he was wrong. All he needs are the words themselves, and you—smiling the way you’re smiling at him now.

You laugh, “I might love you more, I think.”

Zoro shakes his head, sitting up so that he can bring his face to yours properly. “Doubt it.”

The kiss tastes like magic, like you were always meant to find each other's lips. His heart starts doing something funny, and he has to pull you closer—hold you tighter. You respond eagerly, kissing him back so intoxicatingly that he’ll remember the softness of your lips for as long as he lives.

Later that week, your coronation is a grand and extravagant affair.

When Cassiopeia's misdeeds came to light, the people banded together to celebrate her downfall. Those loyal to her either surrendered or tried to escape. Although none of them were able to get away, since Zoro and Mihawk were ruthless towards those involved in the attempted mutiny.

The crown on your head will take some to get used to. It still feels like you're borrowing something of your mother's; but instead of shying away from it like you had before, you step into it openly. You're ready to become a successor worthy to carry on her legacy of kindness and strength.

Uncharted these waters may be, at least you have Zoro now, who would dive into any perilous sea right after you.

Escaping the celebratory banquet and the revelries, you visit Queen Florentia and Kuina's graves with Zoro. It's only right that you pay respects together.

You leave flowers on your mother's headstone, thanking her for everything she did. You're startled when Zoro takes one of his swords, holding it in front of him as he kneels in front of the previous queen.

“Your Majesty, Queen Florentia,” He speaks, his tone steady and sure. “I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to never leave your daughter’s side. I will protect her until I draw my last breath. I swear to cherish her, and to love her even in my next life.”

What is he doing, making you cry like this? It turns out that emotional boy you knew is still somewhere in there. Your heart feels full, knowing your mother would have appreciated the gesture.

As you're about to move on to Kuina's grave, Zoro motions for you to go ahead without him. You look at him strangely, but do as he says to give him some space.

Mihawk emerges from the treeline when you've gone far enough.

“You look like you’re about to leave without saying goodbye.” Zoro remarks.

“Of course you’d know how that works, hm?” Mihawk challenges, raising a sharp brow. “Try even thinking about leaving and I’ll return to make sure it’s your last thought."

“Didn't you just hear the oath I made to the love of your life?” Zoro turns to Florentia's tombstone again. “Your Majesty, back me up here.”

“She would have approved of you.” Mihawk’s frown is unimpressed, but his gaze is unmistakably caring.

“...Take care of her, Zoro.”

“Of course. I promise.”

As Mihawk walks away, Zoro asks him one last question, “How are your regrets now, old man?”

The former commander’s shoulders shake in a mixture of amusement and relief. “I suspect they'll heal, with time.”

When Zoro catches up to you at Kuina's grave, you're grinning at him. He can picture that same grin on Kuina's face if she were here.

“We were just talking about you.” You jest, “All bad things, too.”

“You had nothing to talk about, then.” Zoro sits on the grass beside you. “I’m perfect for you.”

Appalled, you scoff and turn to Kuina's headstone. “Can you believe this guy?”

That day, you talked for hours, even after the sun had set. And on the trek back to the palace, a soft breeze caressed your skin. It felt like Kuina encouraging you, sending you off onto the next chapter of your lives.

Zoro becomes Captain of the Royal Guard once Mihawk leaves. He's teaching you about weapons and self defense when he picks up your dagger to inspect it, turning it this way and that curiously.

“Is there something wrong with it?” You ask, observing it too.

“This pattern and material.” Zoro says, tracing a certain swirl on the weapon. “I feel like I've seen it before.”

“Ah,” He says in realization, tracing a finger down your neck and making you shiver. “It’s the pattern on your necklace.”

“My mother must have had them made together.” You say, unclasping the chain before handing it to him.

There's a gap in the center of the pendant. Thin and barely noticeable, but it looks like it can be opened by something sharp.

“Do you mind if I,” Zoro gestures at the dagger.

“Just don't break it.” You say. “Treat it like my heart.”

Zoro makes a face that pulls a laugh out of you. “I would never do this to your heart.” Aw. You might have melted a little.

The tip of the blade slots perfectly into the pendant. After twisting it slowly like a key, the metal clicks to reveal: a locket.

Handing it over to you carefully, Zoro lets you open it the rest of the way. Inside, there are images drawn on two panels. You, as a child on one side… and Mihawk on the other. Now you understand why your mother treasured this so much. Tearing up, you sigh.

“You’re not surprised.” Zoro notes.

“...I think a part of me always knew.” You respond. “And, I definitely felt something when I held Yoru. No wonder why.”

Treading carefully, Zoro wraps his arms around your waist as he asks, “You’re not upset that he left?”

“But he didn’t. He’ll always be there for me, and so will you.” You smile up at him. “I’m happy I found my family again.”

Many years ago…

The grass on the meadow bristles gently in the wind. Dusk bathes the land in a dreamy, gold and purple hue.

After a day filled with imaginary adventures, two children wave their dearest friend goodbye. The princess smiles at them fondly before returning to the castle.

Kuina grins, face eager as she points her training sword to the sky. “I’ll be her knight someday. I’ll be commander and everything.”

Zoro jolts, immediately expressing in protest, “No, I’ll be the one to protect her! I’ll be commander!”

“Oh yeah?” The girl’s smile turns knowing. She pokes Zoro’s waist with her sword. “How will you do that? Aren’t you going to marry her?”

Stunned, Zoro can only stare at her in response. A blush creeps up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears. Kuina seizes the opportunity to make a run for it.

“Princess, wait up! Zoro wants to tell you something!”

“Kuina! Get back here!”

read the companion piece / my notes / the timeline of this story (in mihawk's perspective) here : "the taste of ale"

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @ay0nha @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @murnsondock @starszns @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @commanderfreethatdust @onebatch--twobatch @rebeccawinters @gunslxtz @akakaze @lownna

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s-4pphics · 1 year ago

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gift basket (e.w.)

kinda cont. to this :3 meep

wc;cw: 1.6k, return of pothead!ellie and her pothead gf, weed duh, parties, mention of psychs but no actual psychs lol, fluff… UNHEARD OF, flirting and a lil sexual tension, something quick bc i miss her fr

“you tryna do acid?” you call from ellie’s small dining table, rolling up for the two of you. ellie’s attention is yanked from her device, gawking from where she sits on the couch, decked in her usual party attire: all black everything from head to toe. “the fuck did you just say?”

“you tryna do acid?” you repeat, sealing the blunt. ellie’s eyes flick around the living room, jolting down to the blunt in your hand before they lock with yours.

“. . . why the fuck would i do that before a party?” ellie snorts, removing and tossing her reading glasses on the coffee table before returning back to some annoying show about a blue cat with bunny for a sister. neither of you are high yet and she’s already in hysterics, wildly cackling and shoveling parmesan goldfish in her mouth.

ellie. . . oh, ellie.

why won’t she fucking touch you?

after your intense smoke session on pothead christmas, your relationship has gotten strange. not strange in a bad way; she never hesitates to invite you over to spark up, pick you up for late night drives, have study sessions (where she watches you study with eyes tinted pink). everything is exactly the same, but you don’t want it to be.

it’s been a month since she smoked you out and rambled about her sex life, since you asked — begged her to kiss you. at this point, you would accept a fucking peck, for sucks sake! but she brushes you off every time, pushes you right back into that best friend box after every hot box. you’ve given her every sign to put it down on you, and she’s receptive. the stares she gives you, the lingering touches, the seemingly doting affection that shines beneath her pupils. it’s all there and. . . not at the same time.

but here you are again. igniting her fucking bud before you roll out to another frat house. being high and horny simultaneously is your greatest weakness. . . especially when your little crush looks this fucking good.

“you’re so far away.” ellie lures gently from the cushions, “c’meeere, i’m cold.”

“. . . it’s almost june.” you note flatly. she rolls her eyes and blows a raspberry, climbing over the back of the couch and sliding in next to you, eyes glued to your working hands. she pinches the blunt between her thumb and index finger. “it’s fat as fuck, jesus christ.” she mumbles in amazement. fucking geek.

“it’s yours. say thank you.” ellie gasps in delight and throws her arms around your neck, bending down to smack kisses on your cheek, mumbling thank you, thank you, thank you! you can’t hide your smile when you throw hers in your little baggie before shoving it in her front pocket. you pat it for good luck. “don’t crush them like you did last time. i’m gonna be hot,” you scold lightly and ellie smirks against your cheek.

“i dunno. you’re pretty hot already.” she purrs against your face. you push her away and she giggles, jogging to get her shoes on. you follow in her lead and lace up, praying to god that she doesn’t sit on the fucking bag in the uber.

ellie can’t stop staring at this fucking lava lamp.

it’s gorgeous, really. . . the bright colors, the holographic glitter, the fucking. . . clay balls. are they clay? they look like stress toys floating around in uncooked egg whites that've been injected with fairy vomit—

“ellie!”

she feels like she’s underwater, but not in a drowning, i’m-gonna-die way. she feels like a mermaid as she searches the room at your call, tunnel vision centering on every drunk face until she finds yours. you're actually right in front of where she sits on the love seat. . . right in front of someone else. . . who’s directly behind you. . . who the fuck is that?

your brows are pulled down in concern as you shout over the blaring music, asking her if she feels okay, if she wants to leave, but she’s not focused on none of that. . . her high is about to go left in a second if this bitch doesn’t stop squeezing your ass. ellie sends you an affirming look even though her blood is sizzling beneath her skin and you nod in acknowledgement, returning your attention back to whoever you’re throwing it on.

. . . would it be fucked up if she busted this lava lamp over this broad’s head? she doesn’t think so.

she barely registers it. the small display in front of her is nauseating. ellie’s known you forever, and never once have you accepted a rip from somebody you didn’t know. . . so why the fuck are you ripping from a bitch you don’t know? the end of the blunt sparks a bright orange with your heavy puff, the carbon you didn’t inhale ghosting in front of your mouth. smoke leaves through your nose as you giggle, the fucking. . . bum whispering something in your ear with a tight squeeze on your waist.

you’re shaking your head like you like it, like you’re approving of this fuckery and ellie almost vomits. she stands too quickly for her legs because she plops back down like an utter buffoon, the world spinning like a pinball. her arms extend as she searches for balance while sitting and—

whatever the fuck she was going to say vanishes when your hands come down on her shoulders, comfortingly squeezing them through her sweaty shirt. softly. ellie turns to mush as she tries to read your lips. . . maybe she shouldn’t do that; it looks like you’re saying don’t be gay. . . but ellie is gay and so are you so how the fuck would that work?

she’s being scooped up by you and. . . yeah, she’s very faded. ellie’s always prided herself in having a high tolerance to the dirty green, but she’s on one tonight. what the fuck did you put in that shit? is this why you asked her to do acid earlier? because you laced her shit? she can feel her palms getting clammy as you walk her down a dark ass hallway. . . if she had that lava lamp, maybe she could see—

a door slams shut and a lock clicks. it’s suddenly bright. ellie’s convinced she made it to heaven. . . especially when her vision focuses and she’s met with the angel that you are, eyes sparkly and twinkling like fairies in a meadow. god let her in the pearly gates. . .

“you okay, baby? needa throw up?” your hand is on her cheek, thumb gently massaging the skin. her heart’s singing. ellie’s entranced by you and her skin heats. . . her pussy also skips a beat. a little one-two.

“. . . baby’s okay.” she mumbles. why is her tongue so heavy? you coo at her, “wanna go home?”

ellie nods, “fuck that bitch you were grindin’ on. hope she breaks her neck. . . or somethin’ crazy, i dunno.” you choke on laughter and pull her in for a gentle hug. ellie’s heavy arms enclose around your waist. tightly. selfishly.

“you mad i wasn’t grinding on you?”

“duh! the fuck. . .” she slurs. “i should be grabbing ass, ‘s my. . . s’mine, fuck you.” you’re giggling into her neck and she shoves a hand in your back pocket.

“you needa bed.” you shake your head.

“yeah, so i can dig you out in it— “

“ELLIE— “

her laughter is uncontrollable, “yeeeah, you’re fucking mine. no more hoes for you.”

you’re burning hot when your eyes open. . . because there’s a fucking body on top of you!

you and ellie are slung across the couch cushions, party clothes still on. ellie must’ve been awake for a minute because she sighs, breath hitting your tummy, “did you try to kill me yesterday? be honest.”

“. . . bitch. . .”

“i’ve never been that high . . . well, that’s not true— “

“exactly.” you snicker, “how long you been up?”

she holds up her wrist to check her imaginary stopwatch, “approximately. . . three minutes and thirty-fi— six seconds— “

“i fuckin’ hate you. get the fuck off me.”

“hmm. . . nah, i’m good right here.”

ellie’s head shifts on your stomach and you know she’s staring up at you, “i needa fucking shower— “

“me, too. with me?” you hear the smile in her tone. you finally gawk down at her. “you’re never hitting my shit again. what’s up with you?”

her eyes crystallize when she shrugs, “had another dream about giving you head and now i gotta do it. follow your dreams, or whatever they say.”

your jaw is on the floor and your stomach is in knots. “ellie—“ you gasp.

“no, i’m not still high, and no i don’t wanna just fuck. kinda obsessed with you if last night wasn’t obvious.” she speaks so casually and it’s giving you whiplash. “i almost committed murder. that’s how pissed i was.”

“a-at me?”

ellie’s eyes roll, “oh my god, no. at whoever that freak was from last night. . . i don’t wanna talk about that shit anymore. i have trauma.”

her tongue rolls over her lips and she eyes you like a vulture to a carcass, “i dunno if you ever used that shower head when you sleep over but. . . it goes crazy.” her proposal makes you squirm and she smirks, planting a kiss on the skin of your belly. followed by another. . . and another a little lower.

“you my girl?” she whispers against your skin, staring up at you, tongue poking out just barely to swipe on the plush area.

“. . . maybe.” you mumble shyly, and ellie’s teeth beam. she sits up to stand and pulls you with her, guiding you out of the living room and down the hallway, into the bathroom. she snags her lighter off the counter and ignites her favorite cinnamon candle, the wick nearly gone. “for ambiance.” she whispers with a grin.

you unbuckle the belt looped in your jeans, “pulling out the big words, huh?”

“call me thesaurus the way i make that pussy talk.” she expects you to laugh, but you don’t. you almost grab your shit and leave. . . but her laughter sounds like wedding bells.

“just take your clothes off.” you say dryly.

SIKKKEEE COCKBLOCK SEASON MERRY NEW YEAR OR WHATEVER HAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAA

#pothead!ellie #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #the last of us 2 #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

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midnight1nk · 22 days ago

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So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

Well, it looks like I got it right. It was a silly episode, though nothing related to the teaser we got. That's a shame. I suppose it's just to hype us up for the future. Either way, let's see what this is about!

(the following is my live reaction:)

shoes, huh? ......spaghetwhat now?

oof, yeah man you're gonna need a new pair

ooh damn. well, it is Bob after all. ofc he would say that 😌↕️

nah it's still bullshit, idc what anyone says

why, this doesn't look suspicious at all. a mirror shop conviently placed here on an alleyway

"🤨?" what? I gotta be on high alert every episode! Last time, the Team dropped a callback to IGBP out of nowhere, who knows what they drop on us next

uh, wha? how did.....? I shouldn't be questioning the logic of the SMG4 universe, this isn't what's surprising. It's a fact that mirrors were also used in WOTFI 2025 hmmmm

(you guys are gonna have to drag me away from this scene or I'll start thinking too hard on this)

c'mon dude, there's no need to prove yourself of anything

oh hey Swag! how's Chris— *record scratch* ......i'm sorry wha?

😦

RADIATION?

oh i did not like the realistic mouth ADKL;JK

wait hold up! enhance... ENHANCE....

....is that who I think it is? there's no way, right?

IS THAT STEVE? omg HI it's been so long

FM?! it's really you? omg ^^ it's been.... oh wow, it has been years, hasn't it? anyway damn, it's been SO long

like I know FM and X aren't gonna come back but it is heartwarming to see them again after a few years. We mostly seen Cube walking around

she was a fairy 🧚✨

see? I told yall Mario would totally be a disney princess (that crowd's just being a much of haters)

I ain't trusting that, hell no

AY back to the clubhouse!

Oh, Depresso, I didn't expect you to come back from Karen's arc

....😶 "what?" well, I was gonna say that I hated that heavy breathing like. Mario, what the hell did you do? But for some reason, this starting to remind me of something. I'll talk about it later if this is going where I think is going

ofc the meme guardians would be the ones who enjoy this lol

well, 4 would be the one doing the redesigns. this tho.....

and now Swag's glowing green smh, told yall I don't trust it

Well, it was mostly 3 that made fun of you, Mario, but that's bc it's 3 we're talking about. I suppose from how you feel, you might remember it things differently

MORE?!

Mario, telling you rn, it ain't worth it

yeah, I knew Swag was gonna say "CHUG"

😨 oh i don't like that..... I think my hunch may be correct

(also don't

what is up with his hand? he destroyed a nokia, and yall know those are practically indestructible

guys, i don't like this

😨😨😨

MIYAMOTO NOOO

the cutaway from that fight scene tho LMAO

JAMES?!

why did I have a feeling 3 would like this new look? lol (it actually makes me think)

killer fish from san diego.... (FISH MENTION?!)

well, 4, what else did you expect? This seems like a normal SMG4 plot honesty, it just feels.... a bit strange if that's how I would describe it

*points at 3* Can we talk about the fit tho? the puzzles hoodie and the silly pants..... that's a Fit (with a capital F) if I ever seen one 😎

perhaps one day we get James to do a 3 cosplay like Luke did? maybe???

and that's a fire bound to happen

....omg, Bob? Was this from the explosion?

it'll never be enough, right? but also this is Bob, he's got a whole set of standards

oh yea, this is VERY similar to the thing I'm going to talk about

Mario: "I WILL be pretty" :( aw but you were

EXACTLY, you really did have a point from the start

TIME TO SHUT THIS DOWN

Do the thing, Mario! YEAH

It's bad enough as it is that people were already mad about the switch 2 (and by extension the new mario kart) would be expensive

Well, at least Miyamoto listened

Wow, 3 was really happy with this new form until he was changed back. huh.

Look, I know it's supposed to be funny and all, but something's telling me it goes deeper than that. And I'm gonna talk about it OBVIOUSLY. You are talking to a theorist here, ofc I would overanalyze stuff

At least, things are back to normal

and THERE! Right there is all I need, thanks Team!

Such a tease to have the cafe right there and Swag coming out of it, but we don't get to be in it (*head in hands* /lh) one day tho....

*explodes* <- that is probably the second episode in a row that ended with an explosion

Congrats to Michelle940607 for your art being featured in the end credits! 🎉 seriously some of the art I've seen from you guy look like they belong in a museum omg

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

This certainly was an episode and I'm not quite sure what to think of it /gen. It did start off and very similar to a classic SMG4 plot, I noticed we got a lot more of Mario's 64 version in this one. But for some reason I can't point my finger on it, hmm.

I'll be real, it did feel a bit uncomfortable of the whole "true beauty" thing and all that jazz, but it was a nice message at the end with Mario accepting himself. As someone who has dealt with self-image issues before, it hits closer to home more than anything. The good thing is that we got our silly goofball back.

"So, what's the big deal about your hunch?" Well, I'm glad you asked, chat. For most of the episode, I couldn't shake this feeling of familiarity until I remembered what it was when Mario transformed the second time.

You see, there is a body-horror film called "The Substance". I do wanna warn that there is a bunch of gore and things that make want to look away, I know not all of you have the stomach to look it up so I might as well warn you now. It's also the whole point of the film to make you feel uncomfortable and unsettled, perhaps even grossed out. Basically, the film brings up the topic of perfection and societal beauty standards, more specifically in Hollywood. Truly, the victim of the film is an older actress desperately wanting to bring her perfect self while at the same time hating herself for how she looks now, despite being beautiful anyway. She took a serum (that was a radioactive-green color) and it worked, only later to abuse it bc of the perfection mindset Hollywood put on her.

Perfectionism, it really leads someone to their downfall....

There's a reason I brought this film up. Throughout the whole episode, it felt off. Sure, I was uncomfortable about "fixing" one's self image, but there was another thing. The close-up to Swag's realistic mouth, the mirror. The radiation given to Mario, the heavy breathing and distortion of his body. Hell, even the way Mario feel against the table and knocked the book off from it. This is practically a PG-13 version of the film, except y'know with Mario and in the SMG4 universe. Heh, and wouldn't you know it, pink being used in the two medias to represent perfection. (you're gonna have to trust me on this for those who don't know)

Now, can we talk about 3? We GOTTA talk about 3.

On hindsight, it's part of the joke that someone would like their new look and get sad when everything turns back to normal, which in this case was 3. And it indeed caught me so off-guard to see James just there, it did get a laugh out of me. BUT if you put this context of the film in mind, this bit adds on to the topic of 3's insecurities. He already feels like the "worst version of 4" and still getting used to having friends. Then, to have this radioactive solution that supposedly makes you look perfect and become "true beauty" on him, 3 looks really happy about it. Sure, he goes on to say how he's handsome and is "The Rizzler", but that might be him trying to put up a front of his own self-image to others. And maybe to himself. Ofc everything reverts back to the way it was and 3 is upset about it. Back to being the "worst version of 4". Not to mention 3 wearing a Puzzles hoodie, y'know the one always in pursuit for perfection.

The more you think about, it really is sad.

Speaking of 4, he was the completely opposite. 4 was the first one to ask Mario what the hell did he do to them and was dumbfounded to know the reason why, for shoes. Until the very end, you can see 4 being unhappy until he's back to his old silly self. He didn't want this "perfection". Now, this is not me trying to connect it to goop!4, really I'm not. But it is just interesting that 4 didn't accept the unexpected "perfection" and rejected it.

Maybe I'm looking too much into thing and likely that the Team didn't plan all this, but these are my thoughts. Personally, it was an ok episode, all things considered, but I know some people aren't happy about it which that's fair. I just hope some people *cough cough* reddit *cough* don't take things too far and start blaming our new writer. We're just getting started and I did get a catch on some of their work, so I can put in a good word. Please do give them a chance, looking at you reddit. Not all episodes are going to be heavy-hitters and that's okay. There's always another week.

It's valid if you don't like the episode or you're unsure what to feel, just don't go looking for someone/something to blame on. Perhaps it's me being too optimistic, who can say? Besides, I know the Team's cooking, I got a hunch

I still can't believe Evan from the Team actually followed me omg

Anyway, it is an interesting direction the Team went with this episode and I do hope we get more of 3's inner turmoil of being "4's worst copy" like the "Trash Friends" episode. Oh, and they follow-up on the Puzzles and WPNZ teaser somehow, a prison escape perhaps?? Who knows!

As for all of you, if you are dealing with self-image/body issues, just know that you're a wonderful person inside and out. It might not feel like it bc we're talking behind a screen, but seriously you don't have to change to be loved. You already are, and very much friend-shaped to give you a virtual hug 🫂💙 If you want, talk to somebody about it and try to handle it in a healthy and respectful way to yourself. For example, instead of the usual black hoodies I wore in high school, I dress and doll myself up with some nice and comfy clothes. Even if I'm not going out, I still do it and that helped me rebuild some confidence in myself. You can always do what you can for yourself, however you can :)

Well, that's all from me folks! I do apologize taking a while to post this out there. Just putting out fires in my production job, y'know the usual. I'll see yall in the next one, and remember: numbers always go first!

...wow, I can't believe we got to see FM after so long. That's wild. I do wonder how Chris is doing tho

#smg4 #smg4 spoilers #ink reviews #even so-called perfection is never enough #that's why chat there's nothing wrong with staying as wonderful as you are now 💙#(also that rat and cheese bit was really funny lol)

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koiiiji · 1 year ago

Text

i accidentally posted this without any text, that’s why im reuploading it, like this, sorry!!

so, sure bby!! will try to figure out something for them

also i think this part ideally fits with latest chapters, bc it was mostly about sabbath!! and wb fandom is finally knowns Joker real name Hajun…so cute!!

you know what else is cute? my bday today😤😤

☾ all characters aged up ☾

*ੈ✩‧₊ sabbath & monster crew nasty/perverted habits pt.2🍐 🐇🧴

COQUETTE!Joker/Hajun

hardly sure that joker shyly would ask you to wear some bows and lace, he definitely have thing for coquette, fight me. seeing you under him, wearing cute skirt, or pink top with open neck and collarbone with lace collar, mix it and add some snow white leg warmers? don’t even think about opportunity to walk next morning.

JERK OFF!Hyeok

mentioned in my really first headcanons that hyeok is pervert who jerk off on random girls who he saw on street, if he found them hot, like bitch do this by memory (he is too lazy to search some porn to turn himself on) so he have good imagination. when he saw you in league of street, wearing your sport uniform he was so grateful that he didn’t participate in competitions that day, his pants felt too tight suddenly.

EXHIBITIONIST!Wooin

wooin is up to everything. like everything. but his dirty secret? to fuck you when someone watches, like a boy/girl from your uni who had a crush on you. maybe share you with someone too (someone white or red haired preferably)

KNISMOLAGNIA!Monster/Deokbong

he can’t control himself when your touch is even a little bit feels like a tickle. it may seem strange, but he is very sensitive in certain places, for example in his back, and when you haven't dated yet, but were just friends, it was so hard for him to restrain himself when you hugged him and stroked his back... poor boy was immediately turned on.

FOOT FETISH!Gyuchan

do i even need to explain? gyuchan fascinated by your legs and foot, bonus points if you doing sport connected to extra load to legs, so firstly he would use massage for your legs as an excuse to touch it and feel. secondly you found yourself mostly in positions in sex where your legs are close to his face, like for example they laying on his shoulders and he stroking and kissing your ankles. when you had a talk he admitted that he had a foot fetish and honestly he was so ready for some jokes about foot fetishists.

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h4ndwr1tten · 2 years ago

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?

characters — nanami kento x reader

note — i'm so sorry this came out so late. if you didn't see my other posts, i mentioned that i basically rewrote this bc the original was so bad, and then i went on vacation. it's still kinda bad i'm sorry. dividers by benkeibear.

cw — not proofread (is anything i write even proofread?), established relationship, kinda ooc nanami, pregnancy, few mentions of sex, mentions of birth control, mentions of pregnancy symptoms, a lot of crying, sappy shit, angst, hurt/comfort. lmk if i missed any!

synopsis — after a hellish week caused by a misunderstanding and sickening fear, you decide you'd had enough of not speaking to your boyfriend and reveal your secret.

part 1 | part 2

for the past week, you've noticed that nanami had been taking on longer shifts than normal. in fact, it wasn't normal, because if there was one thing he absolutely hated in this world, it was working overtime. he'd leave for the school early, sometimes before you'd wake up, and come home past dinner or when you were already in bed. what was even more surprising (and hurtful) to you was that he was taking more time out of his day to put up with gojo satoru and his antics, rather than be around you.

you knew he was avoiding you. it was quite obvious, and nanami made no effort to hide it either. during the now short amounts of time he was home, he barely spoke and looked at you. this must have been what it felt like to him on that night, you realized.

you also knew that nanami would come around and talk to you. or, at least, you hoped he would. you knew him like no other—your boyfriend was a rational man who always thought things carefully and through. you convinced yourself that he was still upset and in need of space to think about that night, and maybe even what you were up to during that. maybe he was thinking of the possibility of you seeing someone else, having feelings for someone who wasn't him. by letting him ignoring you, you believed you were giving him the time and space he needed.

throughout the week, your pregnancy symptoms had become more prominent. you also found out that your birth control expired, which explained why you had gotten pregnant. you felt stupid for not checking the date. you began experiencing morning sickness, strange cravings, fatigue, even mood swings. but nanami wasn't there to see it happen. he'd already be at the school when you would be hunched over the toilet. he'd be on his lunch break while you'd be eating ice cream topped with pickles. you would be asleep half the time he was gone, which would help prevent the overthinking you faced while you were awake. you would be elated to hear him come home, but then tear up right after when you realized it would be another night without hearing his voice, without feeling his arms around you.

everyday you thought of revealing to him that you were pregnant with his child. and everyday, you thought of how he might be enraged and leave you for good. but despite the stomach churning fear you had, you were desperate to hear him speak to you. desperate to be held and kissed by him, to be looked at as if you were the most ethereal being in the world. you were desperate to hear nanami tell you he loves you, and always will.

after long thought and contemplation, debating with yourself about whether to confess or not, you came to a conclusion. you had had enough of this distance between you and the man you loved. tonight, when he came home, you were going to tell him the truth.

you were exhausted. you felt like if you blinked once, your eyes wouldn't open for another 9 hours. but you had to stay up. you were waiting on nanami to walk through the door.

and luckily for you, he did. you heard the faint click of the lock followed by soft footsteps padding into the kitchen, where you were waiting with a plate of food for him.

nanami took one brief glance at you before looking back down, not bothering to greet you. you inhaled deeply, weakly fighting back tears.

"hi, ken," you started nervously. he didn't reply, but he began to occupy himself with the mail you left out on the counter, telling you that he was listening.

"i made you food," you continued, "but it might be a little cold. i made it earlier but you didn't—"

"i already ate, thank you," nanami cut you off, not meeting your eyes.

"oh."

your heart began to beat erratically, and tears began to flood your eyes. you kept thinking to yourself that he's upset, and for all he knows you might be cheating on him. you reminded yourself why you were doing this, and that you had to push through if you wanted this misunderstanding to end.

"how was your day?" you asked shakily, opening your eyes despite the tears that were still there.

your heart sunk lower when you saw that he was making his way to the bedroom, and you swore it cracked when you hear the barely there "good" and a door shutting.

with your elbows propped on the counter and keeping your trembling frame up, you buried your face in your hands. this went much smoother in your head. you imagined nanami to have accepted the dinner you made him, take a bite of it at the least, and let you talk to him. but he was refusing to let down this cold front he kept up around you. you were beginning to have second thoughts about telling him.

but you couldn't keep hiding it, you knew that. so, wiping away any stray tears and taking a few deep breaths in, you made your way to the bedroom.

you found nanami on the bed, already dressed in his pajamas and hair free of any product. his glasses were set neatly on the nightstand and his phone was in his hand. nanami wasn't the kind of person to be addicted to his phone, and even though you've been going through it for a while now, him not paying you any mind and more attention to his phone was painful.

"ken," you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

without craning his neck, nanami looked up at you with his eyebrow raised. he seemed tired, exasperated, and looked as though he didn't want to talk but just wanted to get it over with.

"can we talk? please?" your voice was thick with emotion, the please coming out softer and cracking.

nanami sighed before tossing his phone onto the bed. he finally, for the first time in days, looked at you and held your gaze expectantly.

"go on."

letting out a breath you didn't know you held in, you began slowly, "i am so... so, so sorry, kento. i know i hurt you and i made you believe that i would see someone else. and i'm not, i promise you. i could never love anyone else the way i love you."

nanami's eyes softened, and you could practically feel the worries of you cheating dissipate from him.

"so what was with you night?" nanami asked, the most he's ever said to you so far.

you almost choked on a sob when you realized what you had to do next.

"o-okay, uh... while you were at work, i found something out," you basically whispered. there was no need for extra details. you were getting straight to the point.

slowly, you turned to the dresser behind you and reached for your purse. your hands shook violently as you dug inside for the piece of plastic that made your life a living hell this past week. as you clutched it tightly in your hand, knuckles whitening, you closed your eyes and tilted your head up. you couldn't control the tears any longer, and the sobs were growing harder to keep down.

"love?"

the name caused a whimper to escape you. you inhaled shakily, trying to reduce your crying before turning around with the test results hidden behind your palm. as you walked towards nanami, you felt as though this was the last time you would ever see him, speak to him, and be around him.

with a quivering hand, you hand him the test.

"i'm so, so sorry," you whisper.

nanami flipped the test over, his eyes scanning every inch of the device. it took him a few seconds to realize what it was, and by the way his eyes widened and expression contorted into one of shock, you knew he had seen the results.

and when he didn't say anything, you swore your heart had actually broken.

"i'm sorry," you repeated through a heavy sob, no longer able to keep in your cries.

you turned around, back faced to nanami as you continued to cry into your hands. the lack of response was a response in itself, you believed. you knew it was over. you knew you were going to have to pack all your things, find somewhere else to stay, and raise this child alone.

that is, until you felt a gentle hand on your waist and a quiet voice behind you say, "y/n, look at me. please."

so you did, hesitantly. you turned back around and peeled your hands away from your tear stained face, but avoided eye contact, or even looking at his face. keeping your head down, you were afraid of what you would see, or of what you would read.

then both hands came to your cheeks, cupping them carefully and tilting your head up. your eyes met his, and instead of finding the anger you were expecting, you found comfort and understanding.

"is it mine?" he asked first, likely to confirm that you hadn't been with anyone else.

"yes," you replied without hesitating. "kento, it's only ever buh—been you."

he nodded, believing you completely. he began wiping away your tears with the pads of his thumbs, even though more would fall every time he wiped at them.

"y/n, why didn't you tell me sooner?" nanami whispered. he wasn't angry with you, however. just a bit hurt and curious.

"because, kento!" your voice coming out steadier than expected. "you have your whole life planned out. you have goals and dreams and you know what you want in life. i couldn't, i can't ruin that for you."

"and i was scared, ken. i was scared that you'd get mad and leave me and that you wouldn't want anything to do with our kid. and—and maybe i'm selfish for not telling you, maybe i'm selfish for hiding something so important, so life changing, and maybe that makes me a bad girlfriend. but i couldn't let you go like that. i love you too much to do that."

nanami now had watery eyes at your confession. despite still feeling a bit upset at the fact that you had kept this from him, he fully understood and didn't hold it against you. and despite already knowing, he even felt elated to hear that you loved him so dearly.

"y/n," he sighed, "i would never, ever get mad at you for this."

you froze, sniffling and looking up at him. the curiosity in your eyes urging him to go on.

"you becoming pregnant wasn't—isn't on you. this was mostly caused by me," nanami said, hoping it would ease and erase the feeling of everything being your fault.

"but i was stupid and didn't realize my birth control was expired," you replied.

"even if, y/n. we both did this, we both had sex, we are both in this together. this is our child."

"i know that, ken," you sighed, hiccuping shortly after.

"then you do know that since this is a result of both our actions, i will be there for you, for us? there is no way in hell i would leave you for getting pregnant, i'm the one who got you pregnant in the first place. yes, this is life changing. yes, i have goals, i have plans for the future—for our future. because every time i think about it, you are there. it doesn't matter if our timing isn't right, it doesn't matter if we aren't married yet. i am extremely confident that one day, i'll put a ring on your finger and we will spend eternities together, with this child. do you understand, y/n, love?"

his ramble was so sweet and so genuine, just as all his other rambles were. no matter the situation, whether you'd be feeling insecure or you both got into an argument, nanami never failed to reassure you and make you feel better. they were waves of relief and comfort, like sudden shelter from pouring rain. like being bundled up in blankets and full of warmth after shivering for so long. like a breath of fresh, cool air after a steamy shower.

like nanami telling you that everything was alright, and no matter how tough the situation felt, he would stand by you.

"yes," you breathed, "i understand."

"good," nanami whispered back.

still holding your face in his hands, he pulled you towards him and planted a lingering kiss on your forehead, and then a peck before removing one hand from your face and down to your hip. nanami squeezed you gently and walked you both to the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling you into his lap. he slid his arm around your middle, then moved the hand still on your face to the back of your head and gently guided you to the crook of his neck. you wrapped your own arms over his shoulders and squeezed him tight, the way he was doing you. you continued to pour out whatever remaining feelings of sadness and relief, quietly sniffling and whimpering into his neck, all the while nanami would softly rub up and down your back, occasionally patting, combing his fingers through your hair and scalp, and whispering sweet nothings and reassuring affirmations into your ear. leaving sweet kisses around your face, into your hair, on your shoulder.

when your cries died down and all that was left were hiccups, you quietly muttered, "i'm sorry for doubting you and thinking you'd leave."

"shh, don't apologize," nanami assured you. "i understand. i'm sorry i thought you were seeing someone else, and i am truly sorry for giving you the cold shoulder and not talking things out with you like an adult. i was hurt and afraid to face the truth, but i realize i was wrong. do you forgive me?"

pulling away from his neck, you looked into his sincere amber eyes, cupping his cheeks. nodding, you answered, "of course."

a small smile graced his lips, followed by a gentle kiss on yours. pulling away, you tilted your head down and rested your forehead on his. both of your eyes shut, your arms squeezing each other in silent reassurance.

"i love you, y/n, and our baby, and this future we're creating together."

m. list

#TRASHHH #i'm sorry this took forever #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x you #nanami angst #nanami kento angst #hurt/comfort #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #nanami kento #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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chvoswxtch · 3 months ago

Note

Kind of a romcom/action request - do you think you could rewrite or give us your take on the scene where Frank ties Amy to the bed? It’s just always bothered me so much. She’s a teen girl living on the streets, and franks not a moron. He’d know exactly the implication and why she’s scared shitless and I refuse to think he’d be smug or laughing about it, or as callous as he was

i'm really glad you brought this up bc I always thought it was SO out of character for frank, but I never saw anyone else mention it?? like he literally grabs her and throws her on the bed, comes at her with zip ties and duct tape, and acts like a complete asshole?? this girl was literally just attacked, watched this big scary guy rip through a group of professional hitmen like they were nothing, and now she's alone in a motel with him, of course she's freaked the fuck out. and we all know what was going through her head when he forced her on the bed and brought out the zip ties

a lot of things about season 2 pissed me off but this right here is something I will always get heated about bc frank 'girl dad' castle would fucking never and I will die on that hill

so i'm gonna fix it bc apparently I have to do everything around here

headcannon below the cut

what a girl wants starring frank castle & amy bendix

I had to rewatch this scene to refresh my memory and it pissed me off all over again bc out of context it looks so bad but even in context it looks awful

frank "locked the front door of the pawn shop & grabbed a bat bc the guy said he had an inappropriate video of a girl that was barely 12" castle?? francis david "nearly killed the guy who took inappropriate photos of underage girls literally like a few episodes after this" castiglione??? that frank is tying a young girl up to a bed and duct taping her mouth shut???? y'all got me fucked up try again

first of all, she literally helped him pull a bullet out of his ass cheek like thirty seconds before all this. if that's not trauma bonding, I don't know what is

but even before they got to the motel, when they were in the van, they were already bantering like a grumpy dad on a roadtrip with his angsty teenage daughter, like c'mon. and amy had so many opportunities to run if she wanted to. she could've told the clerk at the motel what had happened, or she literally could've ran for it. frank was bleeding out, he was in no shape to chase her down. but he protected her when he didn't have to so I think she felt somewhat safe with him, enough to get the room with him and help him stitch up his ass

AND HE LITERALLY SAYS IN THE NEXT SCENE THEY CAME AFTER A LITTLE GIRL SO I HAD TO GET INVOLVED. HE CALLS HER A LITTLE GIRL !!! okay i'm done i'm not so let's get into what should've happened

so again, obviously she's freaked the fuck out, a bunch of people just tried to murder her, and this grumpy asshole showed up and saved her, but she doesn't know why, or what he wants. if it were me, i'd be suspicious. like okay, you saved me from them, but what do you want?

all frank had to do was talk to her. yes, amy is a handful, but she's literally a kid (I don't know if we ever get her actual age, I think she says several times she's 16, but when I look it up it says between 16-20, so either way she's a young girl) and she doesn't know frank. she's spent her whole life on her own looking out for herself, and she just witnessed a bunch of her friends getting murdered while she hid under a bed, so of course she's not gonna trust this strange scary dude right off the bat

I think if frank had made his intentions clear, it would've gone differently, bc that entire scene is so out of place compared to the rest of the episode and how they interact with each other. like frank involves himself bc she's a kid, and then beth gets hurt in the process, and frank being the vengeful man he is obviously wants to take every single person out involved from top to bottom (just like he did with the kitchen irish, dogs of hell, and mexican cartel. this man does not leave loose ends. everyone gets punished)

so if he had been like hey, fuck those guys for going after a young girl, but also my girl got hurt in the process, so help me out here. help me find the dickheads responsible so that one, I can keep them from coming after you again, but two and most importantly, I can get my revenge for what they did to my woman. I feel like amy would've been like okay he's doing all this for the woman we dropped off at the hospital that he clearly cares about, which means he isn't secretly plotting against me and isn't just another person trying to kill me or steal what I have

frank clearly sees some of his daughter in amy, or at least he sees a glimpse of what lisa could've been if she would've been able to grow up. like there's a lot of moments during season 2 it's implied he sees amy kind of like a daughter. like yeah she's an annoying kid that grates on his nerves and constantly tests his patience, and there's certain moments I think he loses sight of the fact that she is just a kid and he just acts like a complete asshole (like the trailer scene with curtis when she tries to practice her moves with the gun), but then there's so many times he does treat her like he knows she's just a kid (she's literally just a girl)

the entire time he's teaching her how to handle the gun and use it, how he praises her when she does well, how he comforts her when she does have to shoot the gun, how reluctant he is to go along with her plan with the creepy photographer guy, how gentle he is with her in the showdown scene with pilgrim, like he's such a girl dad PLS

so in my professional opinion, it would be more in character for him to sit her down and be like look, these people aren't gonna stop coming after you, I wanna take them down bc now it's personal for me, and in the morning you and I will come up with a plan to figure out who these people are and how to stop them

I think it would've been more in character for him to be like listen up buttercup, you can take off and take your chances by yourself, but I give it 24 hours before you're dead. or, you can help me out and I can keep your ungrateful ass safe until this gets handled, up to you

we could've even had a scene where she's like I can take care of myself bye, leaves, realizes she's in the literal middle of nowhere, weighs the pros and cons of being alone versus being with the guy who took down like thirteen people by himself (I forget how many there actually were but it was a lot), and then show back up at the motel door with a bratty eye roll like alright fine but i'm gonna complain the whole time

would frank have still been bitchy the entire time? absolutely. he's grumpy as it is, and he took a bullet to the ass for a girl that called him rough road to his face (that will never not be funny to me). but would the frank castle I know and love tie a young girl down to the bed and duct tape her mouth?? absolutely the fuck not

in conclusion whoever wrote that specific scene is a fucking weirdo and it's on sight if I ever catch them on the street

#court's 5k followers celebration #court's 5k friends celebration #movie night at mine #frank castle #frank castle headcannon #the punisher #the punisher headcannon #amy bendix #amy bendix headcannon

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lis-likes-fics · 1 year ago

Text

Shijetra Nyke, Mandia

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader Word Count: 5.9k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, technically dubcon bc coercion, fingering, implied age gap (she's laena's little sister), multiple orgasms, p in v sex, breeding kink, sort of cheating, mentions of death and war, swearing, technically reader is black but she can be read as any race, High Valyrian, Daemon is not a good person... A/N: Hey, everyone! Was trying to hold off on this one but I decided to just post it anyway. Super excited for HOTD S2 to come out in June. I promise there are ideas for Aemond but writing sucks so much ass so it's just taking a while to get to it. Thank you so much and happy reading!

The seas are steady tonight. As the moon glints off its gentle waves, the water seems to mourn as you do. It was hard to find sleep. You came all the way out here to watch the crashing waves, in hopes of finding some solace in the sea, but even it does not seem to have the strength to roar tonight.

Your nightgown blows in the soft winds of the night as you watch the ocean.

The rustling of sand pulls a sigh from you, and you grit your teeth as you turn away from the man coming to stand next to you. You don't have to look at him to know who it is. You could tell him anywhere.

“I wish to be alone,” you whisper.

Daemon clasps his hands in front of himself as he looks out at the sea. “That is understandable, my lady.”

“And, yet, you are still here.” You look up at him, your features hard as you glare.

His voice is soft. You're not quite sure it fits him. The non-confrontation in his voice feels strange.

“I thought you might need company,” he says, examining your face as he does. For a moment, you think he can see the ghosts of the dried tears you've shed. “It has been a tiring day, after all.”

You huff, turning away again. Looking at him for too long makes your skin crawl. “I have not want of company.”

He hums. “I said ‘need’, not want.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, I have no need for your company.”

He seems unphased by your hostility. “Even so…” he looks down at you, the look in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine, “you shall have it.” You stare at him, wanting to step back but not wanting to give him that satisfaction. He turns his body to face yours, craning his head down to watch you better.

He lowers his voice to a whisper as he leans in, as if there were thousands of people here and the secret he is to bestow upon you is too dangerous to say aloud. “It is in times like these, I hear, times where we are most vulnerable, that a bit of presence does one good.”

Despite your urge to stay planted in your sandy spot, you take a small step back without breaking your feigned confidence. “Very well, then,” you say. “You may go and fetch someone else to give me presence. I do not need yours.”

He almost seems amused, though he dies it well. He leans his head back a slight. “You despise me so, yet I have done nothing.”

You let out a breathy scoff, turning away from him and toward your humorless response. “Well, that's the whole of it, isn't it?” You shake your head, your frustration piquing once more. “You've done nothing.”

He hums. “I don't think I understand.”

You look at him, and he can see the anger simmering in your gaze. “Don't you?” You step closer to him, invading his space as he does yours, daring to play his game. “Where were you when my sister left her birthing bed? Where were you when she left the walls of the castle to give herself to her dragon's breath?” Your voice broke as the pain threatened to tear apart your anger. “Where were you when she ordered Vaghar to take her life?”

He almost rolls his eyes at your accusations. “I tried to stop her.”

“But you didn't try hard enough,” you seethe. “Or she would be standing next to me.”

He steps closer, taking the control back. His voice is still quiet, though his level tone is twinged with annoyance. “Laena had her own spirit,” he insists. “She did as she liked well enough. I see not why I should have blame for her own decisions.” His near lack of regard fuels you. “And besides, she would have died anyway. The maesters told me so.”

You shove him back, and your rage is flared by the knowledge that he only moves because he allows you to move him.

“She was everything to me!” Your uneven breaths have your chest heaving as your voice echoes across the water. “Not only my sister, my blood—she was my protector.” You sigh shakily, angrily wiping away the tears welling in your eyes. Your voice softens, though not because you want it to. “Now she is gone.”

He remains silent for a moment, letting it sit until it's no longer comfortable. He tilts his head, still standing so close. “And yet, I am not to blame.”

You roll your eyes, unable to look him in the eyes anymore as you look past his head. “Do you even care?”

“Of course I care,” he insists. “She was my lady wife, after all.”

You raise a brow. “Yet you do not mourn.”

He shrugs a shoulder, entirely unconvincing. “Everyone mourns differently.”

You nod. “And you mourn by shedding no tears and strutting through the castle halls?”

Daemon hums. “You must forgive me if I have offended you, my lady.”

You stare up at him, unblinking as your rage and grief continues to give you the strength to look in his eyes and speak your truth. “You have, and I don't.”

A huge part of that strength crumbles when he steps so close to you that you're forced to step back. You falter, a momentarily fear in your eyes at the predatory gaze in his own. His eyes seem to examine you, taking in each and every little curve of your body every crease in your dress. You try not to shrink under his scrutinization.

His voice is so soft, and your flesh crawls with the sound of it. “What do you need from me?”

You have no choice but to break eye contact. It's too much, too close. You swallow thickly, your voice quieting to a low request, rather than the command you had wanted. “I need nothing from you but for you to remove yourself from my presence. Hastily.”

He stands completely still for a while, his eyes just as fixed on your face. When he moves, it almost startles you. His hand reaches up to touch your face, his fingertips brushing your cheek. You're quick to swat him away with a harsh swipe of your hand, taking a step back. “Do not touch me.”

He says nothing, and the silence is unbearable. He just…watches you. His gaze is intense, focused, terrifying. He stands there, still as a statue for the longest time, before making another attempt for your face. You're just as quick as the first, if not quicker with your flickering frustrations.

“I said don't–”

He grabs your face, not caring this time for gentleness as his dull nails dig into the flesh of your jaw and hold you, pulling you close and keeping there, no matter how much you fight him. Your heart pounds against your ribs, beating so heavily that you think it'll stop any moment now. The fear that washes over you is both a searing chill and a molten burn. “Get off of me!”

Leaning in close, he shakes his head. “Shh, “ he bids. “Hush, little river.”

You hate that. Your family calls you that on occasion because you're the youngest of the Velaryon siblings, Laena especially. It's meant to be kind, for rivers are the waters that feed the sea, but when Daemon says it, you feel so small. You feel so insignificant. He taunts you with it.

“Don't call me that,” you hiss. “Get off of me!” You try to push him away, but as you suspect, he doesn't budge. But his next words make you freeze in your spot.

“You are just as beautiful as her,” he says, tilting his head as he stares. “Your sweet sister.”

You're stunned into silence, into stillness. You stare wide-eyed at him, holding your breath as the sound of the waves slowly beginning to build and the sound of your own heart beating away in your chest fill your ears.

You blink, confusion and shock coloring your face. “What?”

He tilts his head. “I wanted you, you know,” he whispers, his words lingering in the tiny space between you. You can hardly breathe, but you can't look away with his iron grip on your face. “When I married your big sister, I wanted it to be you I would bed that night… I only settled for her.”

Your shaking breath became loud as you tried to remove his hand from you, grasping his wrist with all your strength in an effort to pull him away, to no avail. “Daemon. Don't do this–”

“Now that she has taken her leave of us, bless her…” the slightest smirk slips onto his lips, “I am free to pursue my true desires.”

You shake your head, “Daemon–”

You turn your head just in time to avoid his kiss as his lips press against your cheek. Your squirm, squeezing your eyes shut as frightened tears spring to your eyes. Daemon chuckles darkly, taking a slip of your flesh between his teeth in a nip.

You have no control when he turns your head for you. His lips press hungrily into yours, forcing his lust down your throat whether you want it or not. Your protest comes out as a whimper, and it fuels his fire as his arm snakes around your waist and pulls you flush against his body.

You push against him, struggling to get any traction to shove him away. You reach around to grab his hand at your waist, pulling at his pinkie until you've bent it too far for him to continue holding you. He pulls away, pride shining in his face as he smirks. You push him, but this time he doesn't move.

“Get your fucking hands off me before I call for Arlaryx!” Your command is sharp, but he doesn't seem all that phased by it. You honestly hadn't expected him to be.

He inclines his head back, sneering. “And bring her against my war-grown beast?” He stalks forward, invading your space again, no matter how far you stumble back. “You know your dear thing would not stand a chance.”

The thought of your precious creature in the jaws of Daemon's monstrous demon makes your blood run cold. He's right. She would not be enough against Caraxes.

You shake your head. Your voice is weak. “Please.”

He sighs contently, his smile curling into something especially evil. “I like you begging,” he purrs. “So small and sweet you are, when you do not spit venom.”

A deep snarl just barely resounds over the waves picking up about the sea. As you look over your shoulder, you both take in the sight of Arlaryx, her scales almost as blue as sapphires, a color that blends with the deep seas.

Her towering figure stalks out onto the beach, smoke billowing from her nose as she watches the both of you. Another snarl rumbles in her chest.

The faint sound of another snarl, one much different from her own, is heard seemingly in the back of your mind. But you know you did not imagine it. By the smirk on Daemon's face, you know you have not imagined it.

He bends down, his lips by your ear as he whispers. “Do you want to do this, little river?”

You stare at her, your eyes watering at the haunting images of her torn apart on the sand. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you know she feels it because she begins to snarl again. Her claws dig into the sand, her long tail swishes the water when she takes another step forward.

You steady your breath, opening your mouth and hesitating for a moment. You clear your throat, speaking as level as you can manage.

“Dohaeris, Alarlyx,” you command, swallowing roughly. “Dohaeris. Nyke sȳz.”

The beast makes no move to leave, and you sigh heavily. Curse her and her loyalties. They will get her killed.

You steel your voice, trying to sound stronger than you feel. She will not listen to you if you sound weak. “Lyrkiri,” you insist. The smoke diminishes, becoming thinner and thinner until it has stopped. “Sōvēs, Arlaryx, sōvēs.”

She lifts a heavy claw, easing slightly like she'll actually listen.

Then Daemon wraps an arm around your midsection, pulling your body against his as he presses a kiss to your forehead. You wince, squirming in his grasp.

Arlaryx’s mind seems to be made up. She crouches again, advancing slowly once more as her snarls become louder. Smoke arises once again from her nostrils as she opens her mouth, the burning heart of her rage billowing inside of her.

You both know it's just a threat. She would not put you in such danger, but Daemon's crimes against you have officially enraged her.

But Caraxes’ distant croaks and growls fill your head, and you can't stand it. You nearly shout, sounding almost as desperate as you feel as you drop your voice and command her.

“Dohaeris, Arlaryx,” you bellow. “Dohaeris se sōvēs.”

Her warning snarls are replaced with a sort of whining sound as she takes a hesitant step back. She grunts, and you watch the smoke dissipate. Unfurling her great wings, she takes flight as she disappears into the night. Caraxes’ sounds have ceased. You sigh, almost relieved until Daemon's teeth nip at your ear. Anxiety fills you once more.

“That one is just as stubborn as you.” He kisses your cheek, his tongue darting out to taste the skin. He inhales your scent, and a shiver runs down your spine.

Shutting your eyes, you let out a shaky breath. “Just get this over with.”

Anticipation swirls in your belly, the prospect of his hands on you, his mouth, his…

But he just laughs at you, pulling away from your body and leaving you cold. You turn, surprise on your face as you try to figure out why he'd suddenly pulled away from you. Is he so fickle in his interests that he should let you go before having his way?

You have half a mind to run.

“Ȳdra daor gaomagon bona.” Don't do that. He remains close, his predatory gaze follows you. “Nyke gīmigon jaelā nyke, riña. Tepagon isse, byka qelbar.” I know you want me, girl. Give in, little river.

You clench your jaw, balling your hands into fists as you step closer. “Nyke ȳdra daor jaelagon ao,” you spit. I don't want you.

He chuckles, leaning in until your faces are inches apart. “Pirtra.” Lies.

He takes a step forward, continuing this back and forth dance—you step, he steps, forward and back, left and right. Then he begins to circle you as you stand there, feeling as small as he probably views you.

“You think I don't notice when your eyes follow me down the hall?” he asks, and the question makes your blood run cold. “You think I don't see you peeking over your cup at dinner?” He stops behind you, pressing his chest to your back and whispering in your ear, his lips caressing the shell. “You crave my touch so deeply, it makes you look pathetic.”

His arms snake around your waist as he pulls you close. Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand teasing you, reaching down, down, down.

“I hear you.” Your breath hitches. “At night when you touch yourself to my name.” The smallest breath slips from your lips when his hand cups your heat, his finger teasing your clit over your gown.

“Does it feel good?” His voice is a purr in your ear. “Imagining my fingers plunging inside of you? Wishing it was my teeth sunk into your flesh and not your own nails digging into your skin?”

Your legs tremble, his words resonating in your bones. You shake your head, taking a breath for courage as you object.

“You are not mine,” you whisper, your voice weak. You break out of his hold, turning to watch him as you try to recollect your wavering dignity. “Dead or alive, you are my sister's. I will not sully her memory this way.”

“Oh, come off it.” He comes closer. “Either way, your sister is dead. Why deny yourself pleasure for the memory of a dead sister?”

You slap him. His head whips to the side as your hand inspires a large red blush over his cheek. His fingers brush his skin, a large crooked grin taking his face as he slowly turns to look at you.

You take a small step back, anxiety creeping into you at the way he watches you, like prey being stalked by a cruel beast. He says nothing as he stands there. He begins to walk forward.

And you run.

Sand kicks into the air as you bolt away, your breath loud in your ears and your heart heavy in your chest. Tears spring to your ears as the exertion, the cold thrill of his hunt encourages your escape.

You don't get far. He's faster than you, and his strength is far superior to yours as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you from the ground. You kick your feet, trying to break free from his hold. But it's of no use. You shout over the crashing waves of the tides, waves that have picked up since Daemon arrived. Like they mourn with you, they fight for you, too.

He wrestles you to the ground, flipping you onto your back as he pins your arms down by your head. He looms over you, positioning himself between your legs and ignoring your fight like you're nothing against him. And perhaps you are.

“Go ahead,” he grins, spurred on by your struggle. “Pretend you despise me. Perhaps, now, you do.” He leans in close, whispering in your ear. “But we are all the way out here, with no one to hear your screams but the sea.”

Your fight diminishes, the reality of his words sinking in. You look at him, your eyes wide and struck with adrenaline-coated tears. His gaze is dark, his smile even darker. He shifts one of your arms to the other, grasping both your wrists in one of his big hands as the other strokes your side, dipping beneath your thin gown to touch your bare skin beneath. You shudder at the feeling, anxiety pooling in your belly at the knowledge that you can do nothing to fight him.

“Will you lose breath screaming or cumming?”

Your voice is weak and broken. It's barely a whisper when you speak. “Please.”

He shushes you, his lips so close to yours. You can almost feel it, the heat of his kiss as he would devour you.

And then he does. He presses his lips roughly against yours, his tongue slipping past them to taste you. He grips your side, his dull nail digging into your flesh. You can't help the whine you let out into his mouth, regretting the way you seek him out, especially after he pulls away. And he smiles triumphantly, knowing he has you right where he wants you.

“Don't worry, little river.” A quiet gasp erupts from your chest when his hand cups your bare cunt, his fingers rubbing against your folds before he parts them to plunge his finger inside of you. Your mouth falls open, sharp breaths teetering in and out at the way he touches you, at the way you clench around his finger like you'll die if he pulls away now.

“I'll give you what you've been craving all these years.”

He moves like fire. His hand is insistent as his finger plunges in and out of your wet heat, pulling more and more arousal from your already damp folds. You clench your jaw, stifling your moans as he forces the pleasure down your throat.

When he thrusts another finger inside of you, you moan at the stretch, your eyes rolling back at the way he curls them inside of you. You grab his arm, gripping it tight, though you're not sure if you're trying to stop him or not.

He moves quickly. You don't have time to catch up with the harsh thrusts of his fingers, so you lay back and take it as the pleasure explodes all over your body.

It feels so good. His fingers reach deeper, faster, too. The feeling of someone else's fingers inside of you instead of your own is so foreign. Your frantic breath makes you light-headed, and you can hardly keep your thoughts straight.

“I know it's exhausting,” he mumbles as his palm slaps against your clit, “fighting me.”

But you must fight. For your sister, who meant so much to you. You must fight against this man who let her die. Who would you be if you allowed yourself to succumb to your late sister's husband? She practically raised you, and this is how you repay her?

But here you are. She died hardly two days ago, and you were laying on the sand with Daemon's fingers in your cunt.

Being in this position is surreal. Because he was right, you had been craving this moment for years, wanting so deeply to feel Daemon's passion on your skin. His lips brush your cheek, and he murmurs into your ear. “You'll feel better when you let go.”

Your breath hitches. “Daemon.”

“That's it,” he smirks, feeling you leaning into him. “Close your eyes and give in to me, little river.”

Your eyes flutter shut. The pace of his hand, the feeling of his fingers thrusting so deeply, the pleasure scours your body until you feel yourself reaching your limit.

“Ȳdra daor keligon, Daemon,” you sigh, your voice high with bliss as you pull your hands away from his grasp. “Nyke jorrāelagon ziry.” Don't stop. I need it.

“Qilōni?” Who?

“Ao!” You! You moan, rolling your hips into his hand as he continues to coax your release from you. Your head is spinning, and you've long since left reason behind. “Nyke jorrāelagon ao,” you beg. I need you.

You turn your head to lay your eyes upon the sea, the pleasure within you swelling like the waves crashing against the shore. “Shijetra nyke, mandia.”

Forgive me, sister.

Your lips part and your back arches off the sand as you come undone. Your moans echo off the waters, becoming all the worse when Daemon's teeth nip the flesh of your neck.

It feels amazing, freeing almost. His hand continues to work out through your pleasure, even when it all fades into oversensitivity. He lets go of you, pulling away from your body and staring down at you. You watch through hooded eyes as he examines his hand, watching the way your arousal glistens off his fingers in the moonlight. He looks at you as he licks his fingers clean.

The scene is so erotic, the way he groans at the taste of you on his tongue. “Such a magnificent treat you are,” he hums. He bends down and takes your lips against his own, his tongue licking into your mouth as you taste yourself on him.

You watch as his hand reaches for his belt, and you can't help the way your legs close at the thought of him revealing himself to you. He reaches a hand out, gripping your knee and pushing your legs apart again. “Do not move.”

You do as you're told, waiting with bated breath as he unlatches his belt and sets himself free. You gasp silently at the sight of him, long and solid and flushed pink at the tip. When your eyes lock with his, he looks quite proud of himself.

Daemon turns you on your belly, positioning you as he wants you, with your face shoved into the sand and your hips in the air. His harsh hands grope your body, your ass, your waist, your thighs. You groan, your hips jerking when his thumbs spread your folds apart.

“You're fucking dripping,” he says, a dark smirk in his words as he runs a finger between them.

“Kostilus,” you whisper, taking handfuls of sand to try to control yourself. You were in too deep. Your desire for him has turned to a desperate need embedding itself in the pit of your stomach. Please.

He chuckles, “Say it again.”

You have no mind to refuse him. You've long since lost your dignity, and you've betrayed your sister like you never thought you would. It's too late for you. Why deny yourself pleasure over broken promises?

“Kostilus, Daemon,” you whine, shuddering at the way his hand strokes down your spine. “Nyke jaelagon ao.” I want you.

He puts you out of your misery with a harsh thrust into your needy cunt. You moan, your heavy breaths blowing sand into the air. “Ondoso se gods…” By the gods…

A long groan rumbles in his chest as he closes his eyes, relishing in the feel of your tight pussy. “Fuck,” he curses as he bottoms out. “You are a virgin.” He grips your hips, burying himself so deep that you feel like you can't breathe. “With all your supposed virtue, I thought you were pretending you weren't a dirty whore.”

As he grips you tight, Daemon doesn't take you, he fucks you. He holds you, digs his nails in your flesh. He thrusts his cock in and out of your tight hole, fast and rough and with the recklessness of a starving man devouring his food. The ocean rages. You're not sure if it's a reflection of your betrayal or your need. The sea is strange in that way, it's versatility.

You wish you could disappear into the dark waters, break away from this beast of a man and let the sea consume you. At least then you'd be at peace with yours, part of the waters of your bloodline.

But here are you, consumed by fire as you ignore the burn of the sand scratching your skin. It's a molten kind of pleasure, the kind that oozes out of you in lingering bliss and deep desires. You're slick with arousal, which makes it easier for him to glide in and out of you. His relentless pace smacks against you, the sound of it echoes through the air with the heavy heat of his passion.

Your position is so compromising. Anyone could happen across you. Anyone could walk the shoreline and find you being fucked into the sand by your sister's husband.

Your rationale falls short because the fear of it is nowhere near as strong as it should be. If the lords of Pentos saw you, they would surely gossip. Word would spread through the city, and that word would spread all the way across the sea. Everyone would know, your nieces, your brother, your mother and father. They would reject, disown you. They would strip you of Velaryon, you would be just another Waters bastard of Driftmark.

You could say he made you. You could tell them he threw you to the sand and took you as he pleased, ravaged you as though you were nothing but meat. But Corlys would go to war over you. To have your honor destroyed in such a way, it would be a war of sea against fire, a war full of bloodshed and hatred.

The idea has you running cold, but the chill doesn't last long with the way Daemon's hips thrust into you, full of his own fire.

“What I wouldn't give to spend every moment snug in this virgin cunt,” he grunts, reaching forward as he flattens his hand against the back of your skull. He twists your hair around his fingers and pulls, keeping you secure in his grip. You go limp at the feeling, the weakness seeping into your bones.

“Perhaps I should breed you,” he sighs with a laugh. “I'll fill you full of my seed, maybe even keep you as my broodmare. I'll keep you round with my children, always ready for me to fuck as I please. Is that what you want, little river?”

So truly blinded by your pleasure, you have no choice but to agree. You lean into the way he makes you feel, letting your troubles melt away, your concerns and your hesitations a thing of the past. They will do you no good now.

“Yes,” you gasp, allowing yourself to be ravaged. “Yes, Daemon, I want that.”

The triumphant look in his eyes shines at the way you give in so completely. Empowered by your submission, his thrusts become more merciless. He grunts and groans behind you, tugging on your hair and holding you still as you return the passion.

All of the sudden, he pulls out of you, leaving you cold and shaking. A stray whine seeps off your tongue, but you have no time to let it linger before he’s flipping you onto your back. He throws your legs onto his shoulder and shoves himself back inside of you in just a couple fluid motions. His ruthless thrusts have you nearly crying for him. The blunt head of his cock reaches so deeply like this, punching against that spongy part inside of you as stars swirl in your vision.

“It feels so good,” you moan, though you’re sure your words are nearly incoherent. It feeds Daemon’s ego either way, encouraging a rougher fuck as he gives you what you want, gives himself what he’s been craving all along. He was right. You do feel as good as he thought, better even. You’re so tight, so inexperienced and untouched that all of his cruel pleasure wrecks your body in your sensitivity.

“You can get louder, can’t you?” he asks, bending down to fold you in half for a different angle.

Your head falls back against the sand. You must look a mess, covered in tiny grainy crystals, hair all over the place. But it doesn’t matter. That’s probably what he wants. Your hands reach up to touch his face, pulling him close as he continues to fuck into you. His thrusts are shorter, harder now. You’re running out of breath quickly, struggling to keep up.

“Fuck, don’t stop!” The breathy wail feels almost like it was forced from your lungs. As he reaches his hand down to touch your clit, you’re done for and you know it. “Oh, Daemon, please.”

He’s intent on making you cum, and with the skill he’s acquired throughout his years, you know he’ll be successful. He’s already got you crying his name.

“Are you going to cum on my cock, girl?” he questions, his breath heavy and his hair messy upon his head. “I know you want to, you’re squeezing me so tight.” You cant your hips up into his own, seeking out your sweet release as he hangs it over your head. “Tell me who you want.”

Your eyes, blurry with tears, watch him hazily. “You.”

He tuts. “You can do better than that. If you want to cum, you will tell me who you want to breed this tight little hole of yours.”

You have no mind to refuse him—you have no mind to do anything but follow where the pleasure takes you. With shallow breaths, you blink pleasure tears from your eyes. “I want you, Daemon. Please, I want you to cum in me and make me your whore.”

He doesn’t know if you could have said it any better. Making harsh circles over your clit, he fucks you with all the strength he’s got. You feel like he’ll bruise you with how brutal he’s being. You feel a tightening coil in your belly, one that just clenches and clenches and clenches with every circle on the sensitive pearl he attacks.

“Cum for me, little river,” he commands, leaving you and your body no room to refuse him as he pulls it out of you. “Cum all over my cock and scream my name like the perfect whore that you are.”

And you obey. It’s like a lever being pulled. One moment you’re teetering on the edge, the next you're arching your back and feeling pleasure consuming your body in a fire that makes you shiver. He doesn’t stop fucking you. If anything, the way you tighten around him only makes his thrusts shorter and his grinding rougher. You’re dizzy and your moans are high and pathetic.

He doesn’t stop attacking your clit. You’re so sensitive, once the pleasure wanes and the movements sting, you squirm away from him, but he doesn’t care. He holds you in place and commands you as though you were one of the dragon beasts he meant to train. He wraps his free hand around your throat, leaning down to bite and suck at your neck. “Dohaeris,” he hisses, his tone sharp and quiet but full of so much of a threat that you bear through the discomfort until it twists in your gut into the dizzying sensation of overstimulated pleasure again.

His name falls from your lips like a chant. The sound of it continues to spur him on, his thumb becoming faster as he searches for that same release for himself. “Please, Daemon,” you whimper, “please cum inside of me. I need you to cum inside of me, please.”

You tip him over the edge. With a growl, he shoves his cock as far as he can go, far enough that it hurts when he buries himself so deep. Grinding into you, his hot release fills you to the brim. Encouraged by the adrenaline, his ruthless thumb carries on until you’re cumming with him.

Your sounds mix in the air, his grunts, your moans, the squelching sound of his cock thrusting into your clenching cunt. “Fuck, you take me so well,” he praises, his voice rough with the effects of his release.

With two more thrusts, as rough as he can make them—just for the fun of it—he pulls out of you. You whine, laying limply on the sand. He watches you, smiling at the way you seem to struggle to stay conscious.

He considers just leaving you there to recuperate on your own.

Daemon adjusts himself, stuffing his cock back into his trousers and fixing his belt. He stares at your cunt all the while, using his fingers to shove his cum back inside of you every time it begins to leak out.

He sits you up, fixing your gown and pulling your face to sit inches from his own. “Iksā ñuhon,” he mutters into your ear, his words clear. “Daorys kostagon renigon ao sir.” You shudder at his claim, your eyes fluttering shut as he whispers to you. You are mine. No one can touch you now.

”Do you understand me?” he asks, and you know you cannot refuse.

Not that you ever want to.

You nod slowly, looking up at him as you accept your fate. “Kessa, Daemon.”

He hums. “Good.” Staring at your lips, he leans in and kisses you. He kisses you with force and power, using a kind of domination that was quite unnecessary—given the fact that he’d already taken your virginity and, quite possibly, bred you with his children. There’s a hint of something in the background, however, a hunger, a desperation that seeps into your skin and makes you feel warm.

Under the cruelty is a gentleness that is entirely foreign to you. You chalk it up to imagination as he pulls away, pinching your cheek. “Come with me,” he orders. “I am not done with you yet, my little river.”

Shijetra nyke, mandia.

Ice and Fire taglist: @divinearchangel @alexxavicry @katsukis1wife @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @lover-of-books-and-tea @avalyaaa Tag yourself here...

#daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #a song of ice and fire #fanfic #fanfiction #female reader #reader insert

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quirekey · 5 months ago

Note

ty for confirming my question! I hope this request isn’t too hard to do with Hightide.

Hightide x femme cybertronian who’s a big sweetheart and is so beautiful that Hightide is smitten!!😭

(I also think he would definitely kiss readers hand/servo bc he’s a gentleman when he’s in love-)

This could be HCS or a lil fic, wtv u can do!🫶

WAWA HIGHTIDEE! Sorry if he’s written badly, I don’t know him too well… (i added him to my list tho :3)

[ HIGHTIDE ] x [ FEMME!READER ]

[ hightide x cybertronian!femme!sweet!reader ]

HEADCANONS

- Your height is just shorter of Hightide, being pretty massive for the average femme. You also focus more into the sea-side practice. Optimus Prime has sent you and Hightide to teach the Rescue bots water-rescues.

- When you guys arrive, you two definitely keep your relationship a secret. This idea was from Hightide since he’s way too embarrassed to show off his sparkmate. You are very accepting of his decision and don’t complain one bit, no wonder why he’s in-love with you!

- When he is harshly criticising the Rescue Bots, you usually step in after the session to talk to him. You do confront him but in a softer approach, asking why he was so harsh and that you aren’t proud of his work. Hightide doesn’t fight back unlike the usual. You cup his face into your hands when you do confront him, forcing him to listen while also showing him affection. Though he is stubborn at first, your words will eventually get to him and he’ll try his best to be nicer to the Rescue bots.

- When you two have to separate because of missions or the Rescue Bots only need one of you two, Hightide has a habit of going on one knee and kissing your hand before leaving, you just give him a warm smile and that definitely gets to him fast.

- You do tease Hightide, but not in a mean way. You like to mention when he is flustered. The way you tease is adorable to him, when you poke his nose and giggle at his stern expression. You are able to crack his hard exterior. Sure, he will definitely get pissed at your constant physical teasing, but he doesn’t have the spark to tell you to stop. When you do it infront of others, he just gently pushes you aside while keeping a stern expression (but he will definitely be blushing, a lot).

- Between the two of you, you were the first one to get used to humans. Sure, they were somewhat freaky, but they are also adorable! You really enjoyed talking to the humans from the Rescue crew, they had so much personality and life to them! Hightide was not fond of them though. When you were chatting to literally any human, he’d tried his best to tell you that they were untrustworthy. You don’t budge one bit and you actually flip the tables on him, convincing Hightide that humans are really kind and useful if you just trust them.

- Hightide has many interesting and horrific stories. You would listen to them all fully listening and without interrupting, Hightide definitely loves that part about you. You are too sweet to stop him and you don’t mind his stories, even if they are boring. If somebody else is getting bored of his stories, you try to divert his attention so he’d be talking to you. Hightide is pretty stubborn and keeps telling his story anyways.

- You two are always alone, together. Being get off at sea with no-one to interrupt the both definitely has its benefits. You and Hightide are able to show affection without being embarrassed whenever you guys want. You definitely take advantage and show Hightide lots of love and affection because you enjoy his flushed state.

- You enjoy it when he lays in your lap and you both watch the sunset, it’s a beautiful and peaceful scenery for the both of you. Hightide wanted to lay in your lap at-first but thought it was strange, so you were the first one to bring it up. When you did, Hightide was very willing to go with it.

#transformers #rescue bots #hightide #hightide rb #rb hightide #hightide x reader #transformers x reader #headcanons

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aloneinthehellfire · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Forgotten and the Remembered

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, amnesia, the usual monsters, angst ofc, the biggest warning is that this isn't proof-read bc if I didn't release this soon then I was gonna start tweaking

[A/N: Writer's block is currently kicking my ass but I REFUSE to be beaten!! Posting at 3am!! No one can stop me!!]

The Forgotten and the Remembered

“Can I be the first to say that I seriously hate this apocalypse?”

Eddie shoves the dead demodog off of his torso with a groan, a small and grateful nod directed to Steve for killing it before he was literally dog meat.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re the first.” Steve says, offering a hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Ugh, we can braid each other’s hair later, let’s get moving.”

Excluding Billy’s childish remark, Steve had to agree with his urgency; it was getting pretty dark already and if they didn’t speed up their footsteps, they would never make it to the Radio Shack.

The mission was as simple as it could be, drawn out on an out-of-date map with no contingency plans if it all went wrong. Which, as Steve goes over it all in his head, was a terrible mistake. When has anything ever gone smoothly for him?

They needed to get to the Radio Shack for nightfall, grab a spare walkie and contact their respective groups to alert their survival. Steve wondered if they'd be happy to hear his voice. After all, his absence was probably a relief considering how suffocating he had been lately.

Next, they were to trail around the outskirts of the centre, hopefully avoiding bigger hives of monsters on the streets. Eddie stated that getting to the edge of the mall was vital to the final part of the plan.

And, finally, the crucial part: Eddie will guide them to the delivery bay and lead them straight to the supplies. In and out. It should be simple.

If they even made it there, that is.

“I still don’t get why you don’t just leave, man.” Eddie reiterates for the thousandth time since leaving the camp. Steve’s head was starting to ache with the constant pestering.

“Because we can’t.” Steve sighs, rubbing his temple. Up ahead, he caught the subtle shake of Billy’s shoulders, indicating that he was very much amused with Steve’s distress.

Asshole, Steve thinks as he rolls his shoulder. The last demodog attack forced his swing too hard, leaving a dull ache that did not help his discomfort at all. No sleep, migraines, and now a bruised shoulder. It wasn’t his day, that’s for sure.

“But you have the perfect opportunity-”

“Can we talk about something else?” Steve suddenly snaps, not in any malicious intent but it came out more stressed than he wanted. “Please.”

Eddie sounds a low whistle, widening his eyes. “Sure, man, my bad.”

“Thank you.”

To the joy of his thrumming headache, Eddie was quiet after that. Rather than speak, he quietly kicked around a small stone, sometimes humming a strange tune. Steve felt a little guilty, but maybe silence was what they needed right now.

It didn’t last as long as he hoped.

“Who else is here?” Eddie questions just as they pass the abandoned Steelworks building. Steve always found the place to be a little creepy.

“Like our group?”

“Yeah. I realised I never asked and I think it would be nice to know who I’m risking my life for.”

“Well, there’s us, obviously.” He runs a hand through his hair, spotting the old inn in the distance. They were getting closer. “Then there’s a bunch of kids. Six of ‘em. And a girl from high school. Nancy’s there, too.”

“She the one dating the Byers’ kid now?” Eddie asks innocently enough, assessing Steve’s reaction. “Is he there too?”

“Uh…”

A pained gasp hits the air like a sobering thought, stilling his aching body. It didn’t belong to him.

In his silence, Billy throws a look over his shoulder and clears his throat.

“Not anymore.” He says, and Steve swallows the thick lump in his throat. Eddie merely nods, choosing not to pester further.

“No. No, his, uh, his mom is, though. And his brother.” He nods himself back into the confidence to have this conversation, smiling to hide his hurt. “There’s a fair amount of us, I guess. Hopper takes care of them, though. Kinda his thing.”

"Hopper? As in Chief Hopper?"

"The very same."

His eyes flicker with distaste. Steve can only assume Eddie and the chief hadn’t gotten along over the past few years, especially with the whole drug-dealing career Eddie found himself in.

"Who, uh, who else is with you guys?"

"No, that's pretty much it." Steve frowns at the way Eddie's usually animated features suddenly drop, clearing his throat. "Why? Are you also looking for someone?"

"Uh, no, nothing like that- Wait… also?" Eddie's eyes narrow when he pulls Steve to a stop, leaning in so Billy doesn't overhear them. "I'm sorry, are you telling me that you've dragged me out here because you're looking for someone? What happened to the whole 'we're dying and need help' situation?!"

"Okay, firstly," Steve yanks his arm back, a small mumble of an apology flowing from Eddie's lips in return, "I'm not technically telling you anything, but yes. I- we are looking for someone. And secondly- dos - we do need supplies. Without them, we can't find the person we're looking for. Now you might be upset with me for that but I didn't ask you to come out here. You led us all on your own, so maybe you should be thinking about why you seem so desperate to get away from that camp instead of blaming me for it."

Steve clears his throat, taken aback by his own words.

A small exhale of breath escapes Eddie's lungs, his mouth snapping shut. He wore a look of guilt, one Steve has borrowed and made all throughout his life. For a single moment, a slither of regret binds knots around his stomach. But it merely lasts that, a moment; he doesn't have time to care for others feelings when he still hasn't found you.

“Steve!” Nancy shouts, but what else could he do? He wasn’t fast enough to stop this.

His eyes fly shut once the dagger is closer than comfort, awaiting the painful stretch of metal into his flesh. Unfortunately for someone else, he didn’t have to.

A pained gasp hits the air like a sobering thought, stilling his aching body. It didn’t belong to him. It belonged to Jonathan.

Nancy starts to scream as blood pours from his mouth, his legs losing their power and stumbling him back into a hoard of shapeshifters. Steve watches as they grab at him, pulling at his clothes. They throw a hand over his mouth and drag him away, looking satisfied in their assault.

And there it was again. Even with his shifted morals, the guilt kept returning, embracing him like a mother would their child. Or, at least, he assumes a mother would. His negligence of other people's feelings seem to be almost as identical to that of his parents, and it was far deadlier in this apocalypse.

"Whatever." Eddie grumbles, snapping him out of his haze of self-hatred. "We've got about another 20 minutes so let's speed this up, yeah?"

He charged ahead, leaving Steve behind to stand in contemplation before he begrudgingly followed. Steve sighs. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

“Hello? Can anyone hear us?”

“Is anyone there?”

“I repeat, is anyone there?”

Your knuckles were white with the grasp you had on the microphone, throat tightening with every communication you tried. It had been a couple of minutes, and there hasn’t been a single response.

Once you and Jonathan had navigated the maze of hallways, you had been quick to usher him inside the comms room and lock the door behind you, ensuring at least some kind of security in your mission. Jonathan had assured you he could send out a signal to your friends, and you had immediately began your search for an exit using the camera system Brenner had set up in here. The only problem was that you couldn’t see an exit, and no one was responding to your call.

“It’s Y/n. Y/n Hopper. I’m here with Jonathan Byers. Can anyone hear us?” You try again, sharing a look with the boy currently fixated on the radio system. “We’re stuck in a bunker, and we need help. Over.”

The device eventually rests back on the table’s surface, along with your hope of a response.

“I thought you said they were monitoring the stations?” You ask Jonathan as he fiddles with various dials.

“They are.” He says with determination, shaking his head at the machine. “Dustin basically built on some radio extension, they should be able to hear us. Maybe it’s a problem with-”

His voice falters as he peers behind the table, momentarily ducking down. “I found the problem.”

Before you can ask, he sits back up with a frayed wire in his hand and a frown on his face.

“Shit.” You breathe and he can only nod, inspecting it with disdain.

“Looks like someone tampered with it.” He sighs, leaning back in the chair. “Can we guess who?”

“Probably the same person who removed any trace of a door from the camera feeds.” You say, resting your head in your hand as you continue to click through the screens in front of you.

You had seen what felt like a million hallways and rooms, an unnecessary amount of security in a deserted bunker, but not one single way out of here. It was starting to mess with your brain, wondering if there was even an exit at all.

“Maybe he knew we were gonna escape? You know, just ruined the radio and removed the camera on the front door so we couldn’t leave.” You offer, resisting the repetitive click of the mouse by pushing away from the desk and resting your hands between your thighs.

“How would he know that?” Jonathan frowns, looking lost in thought. “He’s crafty, I’ll give him that. He’s supposed to be dead so I guess nothing can surprise me now.”

You slowly nod along to his words, not really retaining anything here or there. Jonathan explained to you who Brenner was just moments prior to accepting defeat with the technology surrounding you. It turns out he wasn’t a complete stranger after all; Hopper had been hunting him down for years. But there was only so much Jonathan could tell you about him.

You still didn’t know why he took you here in the first place. Or why Jonathan was locked up in a random room with medical equipment.

While Jonathan continues to mutter about the possibilities of escaping, your eyes catch a series of tapes lined across shelves, noticing that very few are marked with a subject.

“What do they say?” You point above him, cutting off his spiel about seeing if there was a weapons room.

“Uh…” Jonathan abandons his seat and peers at the shelf, tilting his head to read the tapes. “There are a couple that say ‘Lab’. Another says ‘Experiment 8’... this one is creepy. It just says, ‘I saw you’.”

A chill runs down your spine as his eyes meet yours with matching concern. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Play it.” You say with more confidence than you expected.

Jonathan doesn’t object, slipping the tape into the player and watching the screen brighten with the image of a furnished room.

“What’s this?” He frowns, looking to you for some sort of answer. Your face had dropped, eyes glued to the screen.

“No.” You whisper, watching yesterday play out in front of you for the second time.

The camera feed suggested it was hidden in a vent closer to the ceiling, metal lines obstructing some view, but the subject was still clear as day. You watched as Owens talked to you on the couch, holding your breath. Even in a grainy exposure, you could still see the fear on his face.

“What’s happening?” Jonathan asks quietly just as Owens ushers you to the closet.

“He’s saving me.” You state and Brenner walks into the room. From this angle, you can see the gun he’s hiding behind his back, and it makes your stomach churn.

“What…” Jonathan’s question cuts off with the flash of a bullet, a gasp leaving his lips as Owens falls to the ground and lays in a pool of his own blood. “He killed him.”

If the screen weren’t so big, you would’ve missed the way Brenner turns his head to the vent, eyes staring directly into the camera. He doesn’t smile, or speak. He just stares. Like he knew.

Because he always knew.

“There aren’t meant to be any cameras in there.” You say, shaking your head. “He- he knew Owens was telling me everything, he knew I saw what he did.”

“So why didn’t he kill you too?” Jonathan asks the million dollar question. Why didn’t he kill you too?

“Play the other ones.” You nod. “We have to figure out what he knows.”

The tapes didn’t relax your anxiety. You and Jonathan watched three before you felt like you could throw up if you continued.

Each one was a different shot of the Hawkins lab, following the lives of your dad, the kids, everyone. There wasn’t any sound, but it was pretty clear what each person was doing; patrols, planning. He had been watching all of you this entire time.

“There’s more.” Jonathan says, pulling out notebooks from one of the drawers he had curiously opened while you were flicking through tapes. “He’s been writing about us.”

You flick through a couple of pages, frowning. The writing was messy and cursive, detailing different notes about conspiracies, almost all about Hopper and his whereabouts. “Why? Why does he care what we’re doing?”

“Maybe he doesn’t like that we’re trying to find a way to close these gates.”

“What possible reason does he have to keep them open?” You ask just as you discard another book, laying your eyes on the last in the pile.

This notebook was eerily familiar to you. It seemed worn, a couple scratches and stains. They were almost comforting, especially in a stark clean place like this.

You turn the first page and fall into realisation, observing the scrawl of handwriting that fell from your own fingertips. It was your notebook.

It contained information about monsters; their strengths and weaknesses. Like you had been observing them for a while, not that you could remember. And it contained a small diary entry every few pages. Nothing seemed of importance, mostly details about feeling ill or wanting to go home. But one word was scribbled across these pages with such care, catching your eye with every letter.

The most important piece to the puzzle.

"Steve." You manage to whisper out before turning to the screen with haste when you hear your own voice muttering through the screen. This video had audio.

“When was this?” Jonathan asks, and you look closer.

You and a boy are standing at a railing, staring out of a giant glass window with one of the gates staring back at you. Steve. You were with Steve.

“I don’t remember.” You frown, trying to listen to yourself.

“… I’m glad I got to see the real Steve Harrington, even if it was just a few days, but… but that’s not enough time to really know each other. You don’t know me.”

“Looks like the day the lab exploded.”

Everything around you was either burnt or burning, small flames dancing along the ground and chasing after screeching vines.

The lab had exploded, you realise, shoulders dropping. It was gone. And it took the gate with it, only a large crack against the surface left in its demise.

You turn to see Steve already standing beside you, taking in the scene just as you had, his hard stare softening into defeat. There was no going back.

“What now?” You whisper, afraid if you say it any louder the realisation of what you had done would come crashing down, taking away that last remaining piece of sanity with its tide.

“I…” Steve frowns, slowly meeting your eyes. He didn’t have a plan this time, no positives to share. You were both stuck in an alternate dimension, your exit blown to smithereens. “I don’t know.”

“How the hell did I forget that?” Your hands find a tighter grip on your notebook, pulling it closer. “I… I should have remembered.”

Jonathan offers a sympathetic smile. “Y/n, you’ve been missing for weeks. If Brenner’s been feeding you those pills this entire time… it’s gonna take a while for you to remember everything.”

But I should have remembered him.

The way Steve smiled, or how he fiddled with his hair when he was nervous. Each mole painting his skin, or the way he’d huff when he was upset in the most adorable way. The way he’d hold your hand, the sweetness and care behind every kiss. It should have been easy to remember, because your heart never truly forgot.

Your eyes drift up to the screen, watching as Steve leans closer to you. The strain on your heart was loosening with the memory of him, but your stomach tightened with guilt. He would never have forgotten you.

“They don’t need me, Steve.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.” You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’ve been doing this shit long before I was ever in the picture. If anything, I’ve just ruined it-”

“Why do you do that?” He cuts you off, flickering between your eyes with a look of concern. “Act like you aren’t someone important, when you most definitely are.”

“Y/n?” Jonathan brings his chair closer, ensuring a respectable boundary between you two.

You almost turn back to him in defeat when you find yourself staring at the red beam of light behind you and Steve. Reaching forward, you click the mouse and pause the video, leaning closer. The gate was glowing a crimson fog onto the window, eerily beautiful despite its dangerous contents. But, most importantly, you remember that glow post-amnesia. In the room you met Owens.

“Oh my god.” You breathe out, leaning back into your chair to let the dread flood your body.

“What is it?” Jonathan glances between you and the screen, peering closer at the image as if he could use it to read your mind.

“It’s not a door.” You state with a whisper, repeating it louder when you realise he can’t understand you. “It’s not a door. Our exit. It’s a gate.”

You grab the mouse and start flicking back through the live camera feeds, rapidly searching for evidence of your claims until the image presents itself, eliciting a gasp from the boy beside you.

The room you had encountered Owens in for the first time was exactly as you remembered it. Small machines lined the walls and shutters blocked out what you assume to be a large window to your exit. The camera quality wasn’t the best, but it didn’t need to be perfect to see the red light peeking out from the cracks.

“Does this mean what I think it does?” Jonathan asks, arm leaning on the desk beside you as he peers over your shoulder, holding his breath until you answer.

“Yep.” You slowly nod, meeting his eyes. “We’re not just in a bunker.”

“We’re in the Upside Down.”

Almost as soon as the terrifying truth breathed from Jonathan’s mouth, a shrill screech of sirens started to echo around you, startling you out of your seat.

Brenner knew you were escaping.

“Shit, time to go.” Jonathan gasps, spinning around and spotting an old satchel under the desk. He quickly grabs it and starts shoving in evidence; notebooks, tapes, even an old recording device Brenner had left on the shelf.

Before you leave, you ensure your notebook is a part of the collection before unlocking the door and throwing it open to reveal the flashing white and red hallway of your nightmares.

“Which way?!” Jonathan yells over the alarm and you grab his arm, tugging him left into a sprinted run, racing against the clock.

But it didn’t matter how fast you ran. You couldn't outrun time.

Darkness fell over Hawkins like an omen, plunging everything into a deep, dark, black.

The red hues of the clouds above would cast a bloody visage on the buildings whenever lightning should clash, but no thunder followed in its wake. This weather wasn’t normal. It was silent, and it was very, very deadly.

Hiding after dark was the only solution in a world like this now. Unfortunately, sanctuary was getting harder and harder to find. Steve, Billy, and Eddie, learnt that the hard way.

“I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but, uh…” Eddie’s finger waved to the ceiling, gulping.

The problem with the ceiling? There wasn’t one.

“Shit.” Billy runs a hand down his face. “Something ripped that roof clean off.”

“Maybe we should head next door?” Eddie offers, but he knew any suggestions were useless. It was pitch black and Steve was pretty sure the windows of the building opposite were smashed into pieces.

“We can set up a camp.” Steve nods slowly, looking around the store. A couple of shelf stands were still upright. Maybe if they set up their tents behind them, it’ll shield them from anything in the sky. He could shudder at the thought of something flying around right now, but it wouldn’t surprise him.

And it wasn’t necessarily a shock to him that the roof was gone. He’s constantly reminded of the giant shadow you had seen a while back, a fear in your eye he couldn’t ignore. The worst part was that Steve hadn’t seen it around lately, and that made it so much more terrifying. It suggested that this thing only appeared when it mattered.

So why target the Radio Shack?

Billy was the one to start on the tents, while Steve gathered some old wood from broken tables to throw in a pile. Eddie watches them with uncertainty, uncomfortable with how calm they seemed to be. He knew they’ve probably been through a lot, they all have, but they move with such confidence in a situation that would definitely have him spiralling if he was in charge.

“You sure these radios are gonna work?” He tries to keep himself busy as Steve looks over, nodding.

“Yeah. Not those ones, but I brought one with me. It’s battery powered so I just need any packs we can find around here. And it’s always been a pretty good spot for connections. You know, since it’s a radio store and all.” He assures, pulling out some flint he may or may not have snagged from Eddie’s camp. The boy either didn’t mind or took no notice of it, still fiddling with the radios. “Hey.”

Steve carefully takes the radio from his hand, checking the battery. It definitely needed replacing, and he held it while he assessed the situation. There were more radios scattered about, at least one of them had to have the power he needed.

“We’ll need to contact them in the morning.” He finally says, responding to Eddie’s wide eyes of disapproval. “Look, we don’t know why but radios are practically useless when it’s dark. Maybe it’s something to do with the clouds, I don’t know. But we also don’t want any of those things out there hearing us. Especially since we don’t have a roof over our head.”

He gently places it back down on the counter, sighing.

“I say we make a small fire. Just enough to keep us warm. And we’ll block out the windows so nothing can look in.”

“What about…” Eddie points to the ceiling, eyebrows raised.

“We can risk it.” Billy finally joins them, looking up at the sky just as a burst of red illuminated the clouds. “Nothing’s seeing us from up there.”

“How can you be so sure?” Eddie asks.

Billy doesn’t respond. Instead, he swipes the flint from Steve’s hand and starts work on the campfire, avoiding their eyes.

Steve has never known Billy to be normal. Not even close. He was an egomaniac, emphasis on the maniac, with an array of anger issues and, frankly, terrible judgement. I mean, this guy saw Lucas Sinclair as a threat, and Steve knew there could be only one reason why Lucas of all the boys was targeted.

And yet, even with all his horrible traits, Steve hasn’t known Billy to act this… weird. He was quieter, motivated, and, above all else, somewhat selfless? He didn’t have to volunteer for this trip. He certainly didn’t have to stay when the plan went awry, and considering the military were moving people out, Billy has every opportunity to leave them behind.

Something was just off. And he couldn’t figure out why.

“So, I know you don’t want to talk about it…” Eddie says after a while, the fire set and his back resting against an old wall. Steve looks over before his breath hitches in his throat.

You sat there once. It was back in the Upside Down, but it reminded him of you all the same. Eddie had that same look of defeat on his face, a cool determination still resting behind his eyes like he was still trying to fight. Just like you did.

God, he missed you so fucking much.

“Why is this person you’re looking for so important?” Eddie finishes and Billy’s eyes briefly flicker to Steve’s, the truth weighing heavy on his tongue.

“Because she is.” Steve replies simply, rubbing his hands together as the cold air creeps between the flames. “And she’s incredibly important to all of us.”

“Why?”

“She just is.”

Eddie tightens his lips, slowly nodding. Even as Steve avoids his eyes, his gaze is hard set on the side of his head, reading him like a book. He could almost feel the thoughts radiating from Eddie’s head.

"You're searching for Y/n, aren't you?"

Everything is suddenly too silent. Even Billy tensed up a little, pausing his efforts to pry open a tin of beans they’d packed back at the camp.

Steve isn't sure how to respond. He wasn't expecting Eddie to make such an accurate guess, especially considering your reputation in high school; Steve risking his life for you wouldn't ever cross someone's mind if they had not witnessed your change in relationship.

Unless it wasn't a guess at all.

"How do you know that?"

Eddie suddenly looks sheepish, eyes darting to the ground. "I, uh... I heard... I heard something."

"Heard something?"

"Your radio." Eddie sighs, still avoiding the boy's glare. "Back at the camp. You were asleep and I was on watch that night. I thought I heard a voice- her voice. It was coming from the radio in your bag. But when I tried to respond, nothing went through so I figured I had made it up..."

"You heard her." Steve blinks, shoulders tensing. "You heard her?!"

"Woah, dude, calm down." Eddie jumps from his seat, hands surrendering. "I was gonna look into it when we got here, try and send out another signal."

"Why wouldn't you tell me?!"

"Because last I heard you guys hated each other! How was I meant to know you're friends now?! I've been stuck on the other side of town for weeks now trying to help my uncle, I don't have time to catch up on the latest King Steve gossip!"

"Stop calling me that."

"My bad, would you prefer ‘freak’?"

"Fucking hell, will the both of you just shut the fuck up?" Billy groans, discarding the tin of beans and looking at them in disbelief. "You guys keep arguing over and over and unless one of you is gonna man up and beat the shit out of the other one, I'm sick of your whining."

Steve blinks. Billy Hargrove was the one telling them that their anger issues were the problem? Considering Eddie's similar expression, he wasn't the only one who realised how insane that sounded. Which only meant Billy was right; they really were a problem.

"Ah." Billy grins sarcastically, leaning back against the shelves, "Music to my ears."

"Whatever." Eddie coughs, snagging the radio from the counter and marching away before anyone could protest, mumbling about trying to find another battery.

"What is his problem?" Steve muttered to himself, not quietly enough to avoid Billy's coarse chuckle. "What?"

"Maybe the dude is worked up because we won't tell him a single thing about anything." He offers, eyes plastered the last remaining flickers of ember in the campfire. "We haven't told him about the Upside Down, forgot to mention anything about the gates of hell that we're trying to track. And now you're neglecting to tell him about how Y/n is trapped in another dimension and needs our help. Dude is gonna be pissed."

"Why does he care?" Steve asks, barely any venom in his words. He was just tired. More tired than he usually gets. Maybe he should have taken the opportunity to sleep when the tents were set up.

"About the Upside Down?" Billy cocks a brow, sending a knowing look. "Or Y/n?"

Steve straightens at the way he said it, shifting uncomfortably at the idea he was alluding to something he wasn't aware of.

"Both..." Steve says with uncertainty.

Billy smirks, almost hidden under the growing shade of nightfall.

"I'm pretty sure his uncle is dying and he doesn't know how to stop it."

Dread and guilt bubble into their own brew in Steve's stomach, tightening his throat. "How the hell would you know that?"

"By using these things people call eyes."

"Alright, don't-"

"And because you've both been so busy avoiding the truth around each other that I've been noticing things you've both forgotten to hide. His uncle is clearly the most resourceful of all of them back at the camp and yet he's the only one who stays behind to 'keep watch'. Eddie always keeps things private from him like he's tryna protect him. And I'm pretty sure that Heather girl is in on it, too. She was training to be a lifeguard before Hawkins went to shit and is probably the only one with first aid experience. Tommy and Chrissy however have no clue since they're clearly traumatised about what happened to them on ‘day one’."

Steve is speechless to say the least, the darkness shedding a whole new light on his perception of the boy next to him.

"You got all that from just looking?"

"You can notice shit a whole lot better when you become an afterthought." He replies, a quiet anger in his eyes. "Y/n taught me that."

Steve tried to ignore it, but he couldn't help fixating on that last little comment. An afterthought. That's how you've felt this entire time. From realising you had been lied to for two years to assuming your father had left without you, Steve never truly appreciated how alone you must have felt, predicting people's departures before they'd ever arrived.

"And the reason Eddie should know about what's happening to Y/n is the same reason we're out here right now risking our damn lives." Billy's eyes drift to where Eddie was fiddling the radio now, whispering into the speaker with a false sense of hope. "He cares about her."

"I didn't even know they were friends." Steve sighs, sitting down in defeat. Another migraine began to form behind his eyes. Jesus, he could use some painkillers right now.

"Me neither." Billy shrugs, and Steve looks at him quizzically. "What? Just because I'm observant doesn't mean I'm a fucking psychic. I only moved here last year, remember?"

"Trying to forget." Steve comments, but there was no malice. In fact, if Steve squinted, he could just see the making of a smirk lifting the corner of Billy's lips.

They could never be friends. But that didn't mean they had to hate each other forever.

You taught him that.

The persistent sounds of a warning system were the last thing you needed in such a hasty situation. It was hard enough to recall the layout of a white-walled maze without the constant interference of a building headache, barely remembering to grab onto Jonathan’s arm anytime you made a sudden sharp turn.

Time was running against you now. One wrong turn and it could all be over.

“We’re almost there!” You say aloud, but it wasn’t to ease Jonathan’s mind.

You recognised the increasing door numbers around you, reminiscent of the days you would wander around this place and only have to worry about your memory.

It seemed that the closer to the gate you were, the quieter the alarms became. Maybe the power was malfunctioning. After all, electricity didn’t exist in the Upside Down. Brenner must be powering it with some external source and the security system had to be using up all that energy rapidly.

“It’s just down-”

As you pull Jonathan around another corner, attempting to lead him to the gate, someone blocks the hallway, gun in his unnaturally steady hand.

The both of you stop dead in your tracks, locking eyes with your captor.

“I can’t let you leave.” Brenner says, unwavering. “My work isn’t complete.”

You shake your head, slowly raising your hands in surrender. “What work?”

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t expect him to, especially not when he looked like that.

Eyes bloodshot and white hair messy, Brenner looked like he had been fighting. There were no bruises or blood as evidence, but his demeanour was wilder than you’ve ever known it to be. He was always collected, calm, unusually so. And right now, he didn’t look like himself.

“I… I can’t let you leave.” His voice trembles this time, alongside a slight tremor in his hand.

Beside you, you can feel Jonathan move closer. He’s obviously preparing for the worst, hoping you both can run before the bullet reaches you.

“You don’t understand!” Brenner yells this time, taking two harsh steps closer to you. You flinch, but he doesn’t pull the trigger. “I can’t- I can’t let him have her.”

That caught you by surprise, your hands slowly lowering back down to your sides. “Who…”

“I could have done great things. I would have.” He begins laughing to himself now, a crazed shell of himself echoing into the hallway. “But she is more important.”

Slowly, his hand lowers, gun pointed at the floor. He starts to stare into the distance, an unsettling smile dropping to a defeated expression. You exchange a look with Jonathan, unsure how to approach him. Brenner was clearly out of his mind and was blocking the only way out.

“Brenner?” You whisper out, taking a tentative step forward much to Jonathan’s immediate distress.

“What are you-”

You shrug him off, tilting your head to hopefully catch Brenner’s eye. You always had a sixth sense about people, about if they were truly good or evil. And right now, you saw a man that needed help. He wasn’t okay, and you hoped that your instincts were right.

“Dr?” You try again, and this time, he looks up.

“I’m sorry.” He says as he meets your eyes, his own glittering with silent tears. “I truly am sorry.”

“Just let us go.” You plead with a comforting voice, holding out your hands. “We’ll forget all about this. You- you need help. We can… we can get help.”

“You can’t leave.” He frowns, face suddenly hardening to stone.

“Y/n…” Jonathan warns, stepping closer to you, but it was too late.

Brenner raises the gun, straightening his stance and pointing it directly at your chest. “I can’t let him win.”

Him? You question, eyes glued to the weapon. You notice the flicker of his index finger on the trigger, and you wish you hadn’t. It meant you were about to die.

Or, at least, someone was.

Before any bullets could leave the barrel, something big lunges out from the darkness and pounces onto Brenner, the gun firing into the wall beside your head.

Brenner yells out in pain as the monster raises its ugly claw, striking down. A scream almost leaves your lips before Jonathan is taking the opportunity to escape, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the horrifying miracle.

You find yourself unable to decide if leaving Brenner was making you feel guilty or not. And you didn’t have time to. Jonathan leads you straight to the red hue seeping from behind one of the doors, throwing it open and tugging you inside with haste.

“How do we-”

He begins to ask how to open the shutters, but you’ve already launched yourself towards the door on the far end of the room, following the faint hum that has haunted your dreams since day one. He joins you almost as quickly as you left him, standing beside you in the open doorway and staring in at the room that follows.

“Jesus…” He whispers, the gate smaller than the one at the lab but big enough to have him wondering. “We’ve been searching for a gate for weeks. And it’s been here the whole time? How did we miss this?”

The taunting sound of heavy footsteps call out from behind you, something big hitting the door with malicious intent.

Both of you jump inside the room, tipping over a metal unit to block the door before you make a run for it, the shelves you destroyed scraping against the floor as the monster attempts to break in.

As your footsteps echo loudly against the silver steps leading to the gate, the unsettling wave of familiarity plagues you for the last time inside this bunker.

A lab, a gate, a boy. Time was repeating itself, over and over, making you question if your actions ever meant anything at all. You always ended back here, back in a life or death deal with only one realistic option left for survival; run.

You almost slip, but Jonathan manages to catch you, a terrifying crash sounding from the door.

As Jonathan takes your hand in his, the cool skin feels unusual against yours. Your body was aching for some kind of warmth this boy didn't have, reminiscent of a safe grasp.

You didn’t realise what was wrong until you were being pulled through the gate with a gasp, senses thrown off balance as you barely escaped the claws of a close death.

Jonathan’s hand didn't bring the same comfort you’ve yearned for all this time.

He wasn't Steve.

No one really appreciates a roof over their head until they don’t have it anymore.

There was the blinding light of sun peeking through the grey clouds and a horrible sensation of something clinging to his arm when he woke, causing Steve to groan in despair. He barely got any sleep last night, and now he’ll probably be up for another 20 hours. Life sucked right now.

Steve peels his arm away from the lining of the tent, frowning. It felt wet. Why was it wet?

Crawling out of his pop-up quarters, ignoring how uncool he must look right now, Steve’s heart drops as his hand slips into a puddle. It rained. It rained.

“Shit.” He spits, scrambling to his feet and letting his eyes fall across the store.

Any and all electronic equipment was now soaked and useless.

“Shit!” He says, louder this time. His hands were pressed against the top of his head as he paced.

“What’s going on?” Eddie yawns, stepping out of the second tent with much more grace than Steve had earlier. But he couldn’t dwell on that, right now. “Damn. When did it rain?”

“The batteries.” Steve gasped, rushing over to the counter.

Any radios left were drowned, leaving no promise of what he desperately needed. His hands fumble with the battery compartments, a little piece of his soul chipping away as each battery led in their own pools of rain.

“Steve?”

Eddie’s voice wasn’t a priority. His hands were shaking. He was stuck here, just like in the Upside Down. Just like you. And now he-

“Steve!”

His eyes finally snap up to see his saving grace.

Eddie stood with a radio in one hand, pointing to it with the other. “It’s fine. I found a battery and shoved it into my tent when we turned in last night. And it works, too.”

“Oh, thank god.” Steve sighs, releasing all his anxious energy back into the air.

“You sleep okay, man? You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah, I- I’m okay.” He rubs his eyes, sucking in the fresh air. Well, as fresh as it could be in an apocalypse. “Where’s Billy?”

“Uh…” Eddie takes a quick look around before deciding on a shrug.

“Great.” Steve sighs, rolling his shoulder. There was still a dull ache resting there, flaming whenever he moved his left arm. “I’ll start getting us packed up, you try and contact your camp.”

Eddie didn’t seem all too convinced by his false display of wellness. “You sure you’re-”

“I’m fine.” Steve offers a tight-lipped smile, already taking down the tents with haste that suggested he really wasn’t in the mood to talk about how miserable he was right now. “See if anything else survived. We’ll need some spare batteries for when we’re out of the mall. Just in case.”

“Cool. Back-ups. I like it.” Eddie nods, mostly to himself since Steve had already left his side.

Steve’s hands immediately find solace in disassembling the tents, grateful to be busy. He wasn’t sure what was making him so cranky. Usually it would be from another nightmare he couldn’t control, images of your virus-stricken form weaving into his deepest fears. He didn’t dream last night, but he wasn’t even sure he slept at all.

It was like there was a small nagging pinch of a dagger resting at the back of his mind, occasionally piercing him but mostly leaving a dull ache in his brain. It was almost torture, and he wasn’t sure what was causing it. No sleep, no water or food, could remove it no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe it was all the pressure finally taking its toll on him. The apocalypse wasn’t resting easy on anyone’s mind, but after losing you and leading Jonathan straight to his demise, it was certainly heavy.

Maybe it was something else entirely. Something he missed. He’d been feeling it since that day in the motel basement, where you sacrificed all you had left to make sure he was saved. But he had nothing more than a blackout and a painful memory to evidence his growing fatigue.

One thing was for sure; his only cure right now would be you.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice calls out from the other side of the shelves, making Steve pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something staring at me.”

Steve pauses all movement, eyes widening. His heartbeat raises quicker than usual, a trail of goosebumps straightening the hairs on his arms.

“Is this the demogorgon you were talking about?” He asks, and Steve slowly makes his way back through the store, attempting to catch a glimpse of the window.

“Tall, grey, faceless?” Steve recalls, taking slow steps. He can just see his bat resting near one of the deflated tents, calling to him. The sun above made everything impossible to see, pu

re light reflecting on the window.

“No. It’s, uh…”

When Eddie’s words falter, Steve makes a quick and crucial decision. He steps to his bat and swipes it off the ground, turning to see the boy fully now. Eddie’s face had fallen, fists clenched.

“What?” Steve frowns, afraid to look behind him at the glass pane.

“It’s grinning at me.”

Heart sinking into his stomach, Steve can’t seem to find the words to warn Eddie before glass shatters the earth behind him, a sharp ringing in his ear. It cuts his voice with a sliced gasp through the air as something pulls him backwards until he hits the ground hard.

He didn’t get a moment to recover. A large clawed hand found its way around his throat, pinning him to the ground.

As he chokes for breath, Steve finds himself staring up at the eerie image of a jagged smile, dead eyes glaring down at him with enough malice to turn his body cold. But Steve wasn’t the target. After all, that thing didn’t smile at him.

Pressure relieves his neck and he’s no longer the prey.

“Eddie-” He gasps, trying to sit up when the grinning monster leaves his side. “Run.”

“Shit!” Eddie has no objections as he snatches the radio from the counter and takes off in the opposite direction. And, just as Steve assumed, the monster followed.

A burst of pain seeped from his shoulder and along his spine, a hiss leaving Steve’s lips as he forced himself to stand. Various cuts from shards of glass littered his hands but that would have to wait.

“Billy!” He yells out, eyes struggling to focus around him.

He doesn’t understand why it didn’t just kill him when it had the chance, but there wasn’t much time to debate it. Billy had the only weapon sure enough to take this thing out with a single blow to the head, and he was nowhere to be seen.

A cry echoes from inside the Radio Shack and Steve’s hand instinctively finds his bat. I guess I’ll have to do this the hard way, he thinks as he rushes to the noise, his only plan resting on the pure adrenaline of fear.

He appeared just in time to watch Eddie’s feet dangle above the ground, his hands scrambling to tear at the thick skin of the monster’s grip around his neck. Steve ignores the pain in his shoulder to lift the bat above his head and swipe it down onto the back of its head with as much force as he could muster.

It screeches, dropping Eddie to snap its head around to where Steve stood, panting. The bat was laced with droplets of blood, but his attack didn’t cause the damage he had hoped for.

Claws swiped at his face, causing him to jump back and stumble directly into old wooden shelves. They collapse into a heap behind him and he loses his footing.

His bat rolls from his grip and his eyes widen just as the smirk of his worst fears approaches him. It only seems to get bigger, the disproportionate body towering over him. It grinned the same way it had at Eddie. He was next.

“Hey!”

The sickening smile still rested on its face as it turned to the intrusion, keen on finding something to rip apart. Steve felt despair for a moment, closed in with a pile of wooden rubble at his feet.

He shouldn’t have doubted Eddie’s fighting spirit.

An ear-splitting scream left the creature’s jagged mouth when Eddie’s spear slotted perfectly into one of its eyes, black blood pouring out from the back of its head as it wobbled from left to right.

Steve manages to scurry out of the way just in time for the monster to collapse into the heap, a stomach-churning squelch of the spear being pushed further into the head with the impact.

“Smile about that, asshole.” Eddie quips, still shaking with fear.

Steve’s wide eyes turn into lights of approval, a trembling laugh erupting from his mouth. “Holy shit.”

Eddie only nods, adjusting his bandana. “Holy shit.”

“You just killed that thing with a spear.” Steve says in bewilderment, still chuckling, but none of it was funny. It was just easier this way, to find the humour in a situation that was very much deadly a few seconds ago.

“I played a lot of DnD.” He replies earnestly, balling his hands into fists. Steve could tell he was trying to pretend it was nothing, to brush it off. “That was… that was the first thing I’ve ever killed.”

“Really?” Steve frowns, brushing the dust from his hands. He was pretty much sitting in a puddle right now, but he wasn’t sure he could stand. Adrenaline wore off pretty quickly. “Well, uh… congrats, I guess.”

“Thanks.”

Steve had a lot of experience battling monsters from the Upside Down. Although, he wasn’t necessarily an expert per say. The normal baseline for experience with these things would be absolutely zero considering they aren’t meant to exist. But he knew the first time facing the reality of a life and death situation was scarring. He also knew Eddie should count himself lucky; not everyone could stand their ground.

Sometimes people run away before they learn that courage.

“Are we sure it's dead?” Eddie asks, peering down at it. Before Steve can reply, the answer presents itself instead.

The thing twitched, clawed hand shooting out to grab onto Eddie’s leg. Bat resting further than Steve would have hoped, he scrambles for a new weapon, hands rooting around the dirty ground for a rock heavy enough to cause some damage.

Luckily for him, he didn’t need to search long.

A heavy shot pierces the air and the next thing he knows, Eddie is splattered with the monster’s blood, the tight grip on his ankle faltering until the thing goes limp and it falls with a single bullet between the eyes.

“Holy shit.” Eddie exhales, looking up with an anxious smile, “That was close.”

Steve can only nod in exasperation, pushing himself from the ground for the fourth time today and dusting his hands free of gravel.

He turns to look for Billy’s smug face, expecting the drawl of condescending remarks to fall upon his ear. He was sorely mistaken.

One glance at the dead monster and he sees it; one tiny, clean, bullet hole. Not from a shotgun.

“Can’t you go anywhere without me?”

“... Nancy?”

Nancy Wheeler stands with her trusted gun pointed at the ground, a relieved smile painting her lips. She was wearing different clothes than the last time he saw her, a new jacket he recognised straight from Jonathan’s wardrobe. She had a satchel resting across her body, but that wasn’t her only accessory.

Behind her, Robin Buckley stood with arms folded, a radio strapped to her hip and paired with a taser on the other side. She didn’t smile, but Steve wasn’t at all surprised. She’d made it pretty clear she wasn’t a fan of his since your disappearance.

The only surprise was the fact they were both here.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He finally asks, posture depleting with exasperation.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Nancy says, retiring her gun back to her belt. “Where have you guys been? We’ve been trying to radio-”

Her voice cuts out when she notices Eddie stood there awkwardly.

“Uh, hi.” He offers a wave, and she merely nods back. “I’m Eddie.”

“Munson?” She frowns, looking between him and Steve before focusing on the latter. “When did-”

“It’s a long story.” He sighs.

“Not really.”

Billy finally rejoins the group, the shotgun they had desperately needed a minute ago looped onto his shoulder. His shoes were muddy, hair a little damp from what Steve assumes to be the early rain.

“We got stranded at the library and ran into some other survivors. We camped out with them and then Munson offered to take us to the last place with supplies and, well, here we are.” Billy recalls, folding his arms. “Not a long story.”

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Everyone turns to Steve in surprise. His voice was bitter, a bite in his eye that suggested he wasn’t in the mood to be messed with.

“Took a walk.” Billy says, stoic expression faltering slightly when he finally clocks the dead monster on the ground. “Ah.”

“Ah?” Steve repeats, walking over to him. “Ah? We almost died because you took our only solid weapon on a walk, and all you can say is ‘ah’?!”

“Chill out, it’s dead, isn’t it?” Billy straightens, undefeated by Steve’s dangerous gaze. “Obviously you didn’t need me.”

“I can’t believe you-”

“Woah, okay.” Nancy steps forward, hand guiding Steve away from Billy with an ounce of pressure on his shoulder and he winces. “Sorry. Let’s just… calm down. We can fight about this later, but right now we have bigger things to worry about.”

“She’s right.” Robin speaks up for the first time, tilting her head. “We have a lead.”

“A lead on what?” Steve frowns, stalking away from Billy and cradling his shoulder. It definitely got worse after the attack.

“Y/n.”

If his heart could jump from his chest and strangle him, he’s sure it would have done it just then, throat tightening with a thick set of emotion. “What… what about her?”

“We heard her.” Nancy smiles, nodding feverously. “We picked up a signal yesterday. It was definitely Y/n. She’s- she’s alive. And she’s not alone.”

“Who…”

“Jonathan.” She laughs this time. Complete and utter joy slipping from her lips, a light he definitely hadn’t seen in some time.

Steve can only shake his head. “Wait, but that’s- how could he-”

“I don’t know.” Nancy steps closer, ensuring that he was only focused on what she had to say and not the disbelief running through his thoughts. “But we definitely heard her right. She and Jonathan were saying they were stuck somewhere. We- we lost the signal before we heard anything else, but it’s them. They’re alive, Steve. I know it.”

Confliction rolled around Steve’s stomach until it made him sick. He had so many concerns about this supposed signal, but mostly he was afraid that steering off course for a hopeful miracle would ruin everything. If the signal was wrong, if you and Jonathan weren’t there… then what?

“We’re heading to the new mall. Eddie says there’s enough supplies there to last us another month at least. I can’t- we can’t leave without it.”

“You’re not gonna believe it,” Nancy shakes her head in bewilderment, struck with relief of their luck, “But Hopper managed to track the signal.”

Billy unfolds his arms and Eddie stops slumping. Nancy doesn’t have to finish her words, but she does anyway, letting that hope solidify with a heavy promise.

“They’re in Starcourt already.”

[A/N: the next chapter is coming whenever I'm not rethinking my entire life after three years of university just to end up in a retail job, i hate it here. but ily guys for still reading]

@sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady . @pansexualhoor .

@kitdjarin1 . @chiliwhore . @carolineesnell .

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fanfiction #gates of hell #st2 #steve x reader #stranger things au #apocalypse au

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kniveschaudefender · 1 year ago

Note

hi !! can you do a gideon graves x male!reader who owns a flowershop? (if you dont do male readers thats ok lol, gn!reader is good too)

Better than Any Boquet

(a Gideon Graves x male flowershop owner! reader)

EEE MY FIRST REQUEST !! (TYSM ANON IM LITERALLY SO HAPPY ABOUT THIS) ALSO I DO ALL GENDER READERS !! SO MALE READER ISNT A PROBLEM AT ALL !!! ^_^ (ALSO I WILL SAY THAT THIS SUUUUUPER LONG. I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT ANY SHORTER BUT PLS DONT BLAME ME IM BARELY STARTING 🙁 ) BUT I RLLY DO HOPE U ENJOY BC THIS HONESTLY TOOK ME SO LONG TO PUT TOTHER. BUT THANK U AGAIN !!! <3333 (also this isnt proofread so)

Gideon had been acting..strange lately. The league noticed, his employees noticed, even he noticed ! But, nobody could seem to pinpoint what exactly it was.

He had been going out more, being a little bit less harsh on certain people, and the biggest thing people noticed was the amount of flowers around now. Of course nobody dared to ask, heavens no ! But still, it was strange. It’s not like he was a big fan of the flowers himself, but for some reason he had so many around.

Eventually, it had started as a routine. Day after day he would do the exact same thing ! Saying he needs to go do something ‘important’ out, taking his leave, and ending up in the local flowershop. But why ? Its not like he was there for the flowers, no. He had a better reasons.

He walks in, his mind somewhere else before hearing something that completely snapped him out of it. A simple, “Good morning, Mr, Graves!”

< Thats > what he was here for.

The nice owner, thats what he was here for! How could we forget? How could he forget such a nice boy, the same boy who helps him every day no matter how many questions he asks or how many times he ends up repeating them. He even remembered his name! Not by the fact that he’s THE Gideon Graves, but by the fact that he comes in every day to his shop !

Will he ever admit its for him? Maybe later. But right now? Certainly not ! He can’t lose such a ‘friendship’ with this lovely boy he’s met ! For now, he simply comes in, looking for him at the desk in the front. Asking things such as “How do I take care of these?” or “What type of flowers would go best with this event ?” . Simple things to hide the fact that he’s only there to see him and to hear him talk.

After about an hour of mindless questions and small talk, he comes home, once again with a boquet of flowers in hand. He couldn’t help it ! He HAD to buy flowers every time he’d go in there, or he’d leave feeling a bit bad. So, there he goes, grabbing another empty vase and putting some water in it, then placing the flowers inside.

He sighed, looking around at all the flowers he now had. How long could he keep this up ? How long could he push his feelings for this boy away and just keep going and buying flowers, never making a move?

It honestly didn’t take long, he was running out of room for flowers and was so head over heels he couldn’t help himself anymore.

Though, for the first time he couldn’t help but feel a bit afraid. Would you like him? I mean yeah, he does have quite the name and ego, not to mention the billions he has in cash, but would you really find him attractive? He guessed he’d just have to find out.”

He spent about a week thinking about this.

Infact, he spent the whole time trying to distract himself, he had forgotten to go to the flowershop. After the week, he had finally decided to go say something. Thats when he remembered. He spent the whole week away from YOUR presence after being there non-stop for a few months!

Now he was really worried. He probably made you sick thinking something must have happened since he stopped coming for a whole week!

So, off he went! Sprinting down the street to the flowershop, holding on to his glasses for life. His plan? Say everything through a letter. He couldnt get himself to say it to your face, no matter how big of an ego he had.

He comes in, pushing the door open, almost falling over as he catches his breath before looking up. And there you were, making direct eye contact with him as you out new fresh flowers in a certain section.

“Mr. Graves! There you are! I was wondering where you’d been.” You say, giving him that same, sweet smile.

“Please..call me Gideon.” He says, closing the door behind him as he comes in entirely. “I have something..a bit more important for you this time.” “Anything! What do you need, Gideon?” He liked how you had listened without a question.

“I need a boquet of roses, the best ones you’ve got, and I need you to put this letter in there. But, I’d like you to read it first.” He says, handing the note to him. “I need these by 5 p.m today, and I’d like for you to write me a reply on the letter of what you think.”

With that he mutters a “Thank you” and runs out quickly, not even giving you a chance to respond.

You stand there, a bit dumbfounded. But, there was no need to go chase him down and question him. It seemed simple enough. So, you grab the roses, picking the best ones as he’d asked. Then, the letter.

You grab the letter, opening it slowly, then is when you get met with something..suprising.

“Sorry about the leave, I couldn’t be here for this. All these visits were never about the flowers, it was about you. I wanted to get closer, but never knew how. I’ve liked you for all these months, and never knew how to truely say it. You were always too kind, and quite the handsome man too, giving me that smile every day I walked in, no matter how clueless I was about anything. Especially the flowers. But you always listened to me. But, I do love you and everything you do a lot. And I would love to have you by my side. Because to me, you’re better than any boquet.”

#gideon graves x reader #gideon graves #scott pilgrim x reader #scott pilgram vs the world #scott pilgram takes off #x reader stories #fluff #??? idk #i love gideon #thank u sm anon #writer #new writers on tumblr #vancesrambles

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pinkaditty · 10 months ago

Note

hey baby... i was uh wondering....

if you could do geto x reader x gojo for me 😍

i would love it as a birthday gift !!!

mwah xoxoxo

- big daddy

Three's A Crowd (Geto x Reader x Gojo) Pt 1

*rubs hands together and does the DreamWorks face and laughs like a witch* yessssssss.... yessssssssss!!!

everyone say hi 2 my roommate (the ask) 👐🏾 love her im her biggest fan

a/n: *kills self* I AM SO BACKED UP WITH THESE ASKS BRO THIS ONE WAS DUE LAST YEAR... IT'S FAWKING JULY 😭😭 im so sorry y'all so much has happened in my life im not even in my home country rn yall... yea... the good news is that I TOTALLY GRADUATED COLLEGE EARLY WHIPPEEEEE!!! joining the dreaded workforce come August, but for now... enjoy my works. I promise y'all, I see your asks, im working on them. jus a lot going on rn but I WILL DELIVER I PROMISE!

summary: you and gojo are friends with benefits... sorta. but why's geto, gojo's best friend, paying you extra close attention lately? (basically my REALLY self-indulgent studentbodypres!geto x dom!bimbo!reader x sportyclassclown!gojo fic)

cw: MINORS DNI, fem!reader (im sorry! i had to do fem for this one,,, a gift) dom!reader (my pref + my roommate's pref 🙏🏾 she gets me fr), gojo is a sporty himbo, submissive!gojo, smut, mentions of penetration, sexual acts, gojo whimpering, reader is a bimbo bc i said so (very little dialogue so they don't talk much but just trust me), fem undergarments mentioned, some choking, NOT PROOFREAD (there may be some mistakes), perhaps slightly ooc? andddd idk what else.

NO MINORS ARE ALLOWED TO INTERACT! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARIES!!

The two of you never really hung out in public, at least not on campus. It was an unspoken rule. He was the campus wrestling star, huge class clown, but overall popular nice guy. You were the rumored slut with an enormous body count. Gojo didn’t mind, of course, but you did, fearing how your reputation could bring down his with you. So you insisted on being separate on campus. He was fine with that, if a little reluctant. Besides, not only was he the most attractive guy on campus, he was also best friends with the student class president and other most attractive guy on campus! No way could he ruin his rep by hanging out with you; or at least that’s what you deduced.

The student class president was Geto, probably the other most popular guy among college campus. He was a little self-righteous and airy, but he had his down-to-earth moments, and made an effort to be sweet when it mattered. So, of course, when running for pres, all it took was the sweet charm and he won in a landslide. You didn’t know him, not like Gojo did, but recently you had become curious about him. You’d had your fair share of run ins with him, like in the hallways, or in the cafe, even passed by him in your dorm once. Gojo had been talking about him a lot recently, and that sparked your interest. You had to admit he was strangely attractive. Not conventionally, like Gojo, but rather mysteriously. Maybe you just had a thing for guys with long hair, or maybe you liked his slim eyes? Who knows. Regardless, most of campus agreed with you.

Geto seemed to be all you could think about as you headed to Gojo’s apartment, just across the street off campus. It didn’t make sense. You’d only had a few run ins with him, but then Gojo starts running his mouth, and now he’s all you can think about? You shake your head, and decide to just wait out front; Gojo would come down soon.

It was a lukewarm night in mid September. The cool wind cut through the warm temperature and humid air. It was comfortable enough for you to wear something nice; a cute hot pink crop top, low enough to show off a leopard print bra. It matched with your leopard print boots with hot pink laces. A simple jean skirt worked today, but of course, you had a sparkly, cute pink belt to match. Not your best outfit, but cute. Besides, it was all going to be tossed around anyway.

Your earrings and bracelets make little clinking sounds as you look around for Gojo, and your nails tap against the screen of your phone as you text him. Finally, he arrives, wide goofy smile spread out across his face as he held the door open for you. He’s wearing a light blue oversized jersey with navy cargo shorts. Sorta matches, but anything worse and you wouldn’t want to be seen with him. You step inside and he leads you to the elevator.

“So how are you, Pink?” He calls you by your endearing nickname, one he very proudly came up with. You’ve been friends with him for years, and were pretty close, at that… But it was only recently when this new development happened.

You shrug in response. “Like, I'm fine. As fine as ever.” You jokingly motion to yourself exaggeratedly, and Gojo laughs.

“I can see that!” He quips, his eyes taking you in over his sunglasses. “Never a day where you aren't dressed to impress!”

You laugh and wave him off. “Whateverrrr.”

You and Gojo had met in high school, and had been good friends ever since. You were both now juniors in college, studying in your own respective fields; him in Kinesology and you in Fashion and Design. Despite such differences, his sense of humor and some shared interests kept you around. You weren’t close with him like Geto was, though… The two of you were close in a different way.

Really, it started in freshman year of college. The two of you had attended a party, gotten a little tipsy, some hidden truths were shared and after one night, it kept happening, even sober. You were just friends, as that was what was comfortable… but, the benefits weren’t ever undesirable.

As you finally reach his apartment, he lets you in with his usual dramatic flair, and you laugh at the familiarity. Upon reaching his room, you both know what you’re here for, but it doesn’t feel awkward anymore. It stopped feeling awkward after the first five times. Now, it was as normal as ever.

As soon as you step in and Gojo closes the door behind him, you set down your purse and start taking off your boots. He follows suit, slipping off his shoes as well. As you both get undressed, he asks, “How were your classes today?”

You laugh and say, “Satoru, we don’t need to catch up, like, allllll the time, you know? You’ve already heard about my classes over text anyway!” You shake your phone in hand while undoing your belt and slipping down your skirt, reminding him of how often the two of you talk in a day.

He nods, smiling. “True, true. But I do like to hear it from you directly. I prefer your voice anyways!” He pulls his jersey over his head, revealing his bare torso before unbuttoning his shorts.

You roll your eyes, smirking. “You could literally just call me, you coward.” You slip your top off, trying to pull it over your hair without ruining your style or makeup. Thankfully, your bracelets and nails don’t get caught on the fabric.

He visibly pouts, moving to pull off his black boxers. “I don’t see why I can’t just talk to you on campus… In real life… As friends do!” He complains again, kicking his boxers to the side and approaching you, his ridiculous circular sunglasses still on.

You shake your head, slipping your bra off and quickly sliding out of your panties. “You know why.” You move to approach him in turn, smiling familiarly. You reach up and pluck his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose, placing them on his desk behind you. His blue eyes gaze at you softly, and an equally soft smile graces his features. You trace your fingers under his chin and walk towards his bed, sitting on the edge. “Come on, hotshot.” You call to him, smirking. “Don’t tell me you aren’t horny after a rough week.”

He shakes his head, sighing. “Can’t deny that.” He approaches you, pressing a knee into his comforter and curling an arm behind you, trapping you on the bed. You lean back, allowing him to hover over you on the bed. “Wrestling has been tough lately.”

You fling your legs around him and grab his arms, rolling over on the bed and pulling him with you until you were positioned over him. He simply smirks, rolling his eyes. “You know, if I were to ever use my wrestling techniques, I’d win.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, sure. You have the strength advantage here. But I know you won’t do that.”

He narrows his eyes, goofy smile spreading on his face. “And? What makes you so sure that I-” You cut him off, running one of your long nails down his throat. His adam’s apple bobs under your touch as he swallows harshly, his eyes widening and breath catching. His eyes flick between your face and your nails, as though waiting for you to do something more. When it became apparent that was all you were going to do, he whines, pouting. “Come on, you can’t just do that! Totally unfair, especially when you have the advantage.”

You smirk. “Sure, but it’s not my fault you react like this every time. At a certain point, I just find it funny.”

His pout turns into a slight frown, though you can tell he’s exaggerating to get what he wants. “You’re just making fun of me.”

You decide to lay into him, biting back just as well. “Well, duh!" You laugh in his face, and he only pouts further. “It's no fun if I can't make fun of you."

You laugh, shifting position a little. As you do, he grunts, and you feel something press into your thigh. You suppress a giggle.

“Hard already? Loser."

“Shut up. You're naked and on top of me." His eyes narrow as he says this, and you can tell he's trying to look serious, but then he bites his lip, betraying himself. He huffs impatiently and grips your hips, digging his fingers into your soft flesh. You simply smirk and stay over him, waiting for him to cave. “Come onnnn!" He whines at last, twitching impatiently. “It's been a whole week…”

At his exaggerated pout, you finally relent. You stroke his cheek with your hand and with the other, you trail your long nails down his neck to his collarbone to his chest. You lean in and gently kiss him, his mouth opening excitedly the second you swipe your tongue on his lips.

You pull away and whisper in his ear, “Good boy."

He whimpers again.

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

You spring upwards, suddenly waking up after your deep sleep. You blink blearily a few times, making sense of your surroundings. You were not in your own bedroom, but you knew this room. This was Satoru’s room, and the soft snoring next to you was evidence of that. You turn to look at him, and there he lies next to you, oddly positioned with his mouth wide open, snoring muffled in his pillow. Shaking your head amusedly, you yawn and stretch, slipping out of bed. You were naked, but it's not like Satoru cared if you went around his apartment naked. Sunlight streaked through the windows, but it wasn't quite early morning. If anything, it looked to be noon, the sun high in the sky, bathing everything in even sunlight. You pad over to your purse, where your clothes from last night still are, and rummage around, pulling out the spares you packed. A cute bodycon dress. Maybe you'd wear this next time you came over. Satoru suddenly grunts, and you turn, seeing him twitch his arm before blinking awake and looking around for you. Upon spotting you, he plops back down on his bed, humming in satisfaction.

“Very glad you haven’t left yet. I wanted to at least give you something to eat before you go this time.” His voice is thick and heavy with sleep, and he rubs his eyes, rolling over and forcing the sleep from his limbs.

You smile at him, placing your spare clothes on his bed and heading for his shower. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited though, I’m hanging with friends today.” You close the bathroom door behind you, very aware that he could still hear you.

You hear some shuffling, assuming Satoru is getting out of bed. “What, and I’m not ‘friends’?”

You roll your eyes at your reflection and sigh, wrapping your hair up for your shower. “Not today you aren’t!”

A wounded sound comes from the other side of the door, and you hear dramatic stumbling and a final collapse on the bed. You bite back a laugh. “One day… One day I'll permanently be your friend.” He fake sobs for dramatic effect.You give an audible pity laugh. “Ha! Sure.”

You turn on the water and you are about to step in before you notice an unfamiliar hair comb sitting on Satoru’s bathroom counter. For a moment, you’re puzzled, until you recognize the few, barely visible black strands in the comb.

Geto.

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

For the rest of the day, as you hang around friends, you do your best not to think about it. But unfortunately, even the brand new pink and highly-deco’d acrylics you got with friends on your spa day do nothing to soothe your thoughts. Geto visiting Satoru was not remotely the problem. The problem was seeing Geto’s comb and having to repress the flaring heat that seared through your body all at once. You imagined him in that same bathroom, just as naked as you were, smirking at you in the mirror, alluding to the night before. You imagined him picking up that comb, watching as he runs it through his uneven black strands, smoothing it out after you’d spent most of the night pulling at it. The thoughts nearly sent you over the edge. You plop down onto your dorm room bed that night, wrapping yourself in your blankets and squeezing your legs together, trying to distract yourself from the thoughts. You hadn’t even thought of him in that way before. Why did it have to happen when you were naked, in Satoru’s bathroom? How embarrassing is that? You kick your feet and audibly groan, pulling the blankets around you tighter. This wasn’t working. You decide to go for a walk, get some fresh air, grab a snack or something. You hurriedly toss the blankets off of you and scan through your closet, throwing on a see through hot pink sweater dress and your favorite knee-high boots. You only bother grabbing your wallet and keys before walking out of the dorm, too out of it to pay much attention to your surroundings.

You notice it’s cooler than usual the moment you step outside, the cool air easily penetrating your dress. You cross your arms, wrapping your hands around your sides. Barely anyone is out tonight, besides a few stragglers. Not surprising, though. Usually on Saturday nights, everyone’s at a party or something. You walk in the direction of the campus convenience store, hoping to grab something and head back to avoid being in the cool air for too long.

As you are walking, you notice someone heading the opposite direction on the same path ahead of you. You don’t pay them much mind until they pass underneath a street light and you notice their visage looks eerily similar to Geto’s. You squeeze your sides tighter and pray to whatever higher power is listening that that isn’t Geto, and that you’re just seeing things because it’s so late. You keep walking, acting as nonchalant as humanly possible, wishing you’d grabbed your phone as a means of distraction before you left the dorm. The person slowly draws closer, and it is all you can do to not freeze in fear, trying to look everywhere except at his face. You breathe heavily, looking to your side as he approaches, and hope this will pass without incident.

“Good evening.” His deep voice greets you, and you know it would be rude now if you didn’t look at him, at least. You turn as he says it, and are almost rooted to the ground. It was indeed Geto. He was smiling at you kindly, continuing his pace as he briskly walked past you, like it was nothing.

Internally, you sighed with relief. The danger had passed.

“You’re Satoru’s friend, aren’t you?”

You freeze in place, gripping your sides in surprise. How… How did he know that? You turn around, trying not to let the fear show on your face. He was standing some ways away, turned at an angle, as though his phrase were an afterthought. Something told you, however, that he’d been meaning to ask you this in the way he looked at you. While his smile was handsome and kind all the same, his eyes were similarly kind but expectant, like he had predicted several outcomes to this conversation already. You felt seen, and not just because your dress was see-through. It was, for the first time, uncomfortable to be scrutinized. But, some part of you didn’t mind it so bad… The expectancy in his gaze almost felt like hunger, and to be wanted by Geto, student class president on campus? Well, that wasn’t so bad.

“Uh… y-yeah. Yeah, I’m friends with him.” Your answer comes out uncertain at first, and you want to smack yourself for it, but soon it comes out even as you’d planned as you gain confidence. Geto probably wasn’t here to hurt you anyway, regardless of how intimidating he seemed now. You hesitantly smile back. It was a little awkward, but you hoped the softness of it made up for it. His eyes narrow and he seems to scrutinize you further, his smile widening. Before anything else was said, he turns, and the building heat in your body dissipates as quickly as it appeared.

“Have a good night, Satoru’s friend.”

You couldn’t tell if the last part was meant to be a subtle dig, but you doubted it. The teasing lilt in his tone said otherwise.

“Yeah, you too!” You say hurriedly, watching him as he continues on his way. You wonder if he will look back, but you decide not to stick around long enough to find out. You continue on your way to the campus convenience store, still determined to get a drink regardless of your mood.

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

The following week passes as slowly as ever, but simultaneously super quickly. On one hand, you had to drag yourself to classes this week, your body feeling oddly more run-down than usual. Of course, that only fueled circulating rumors, and no matter how much you tried to ignore them, it just got to you this week. On the other hand, your head swimming with thoughts of Satoru and Geto as you watched them from afar made your week seem to zoom by. Not to mention the few times you passed by Geto and he greeted you with a stellar smile and curious eyes. The building pressure of it all was enough to weigh you down some. You text Satoru that Friday after class to let him know you’re coming by early, to which he excitedly agrees to shoo away anyone he may have over right now. Idly, you wonder if Geto is over, but you shake those thoughts away. No more thinking today. You just wanted to fuck Satoru silly and forget all about this week.

It’s a bright afternoon, the sun setting earlier as the days pass on. The rumbling dark clouds in the distance signal a rainy evening, which brings you some joy. Even more of an excuse to stay with Satoru. The wind picks up, as though blowing you towards your destination. You wished you had a longer jacket to protect your body from the winds, but unfortunately the cropped brown leather one would have to do. At least you wore your brown knee-high boots with it, keeping at least a part of your legs warm.

When you finally arrive at the apartment building, Satoru is there, waiting for you. He’s dressed as casually as ever, black tee and grey sweatpants, but you couldn’t be bothered to care much past that. He waves in greeting, and as you approach, you collapse forward into his arms, to which he holds you up.

“Woah,” he exclaims, one arm around your shoulders and the other steadying you by your waist. “Rough week?”

You lean into him and sigh miserably, pressing your cheek against his chest. His chest rumbles with light laughter, which brings a smile to your face. “You already know this.”

He simply chuckles and squeezes you close for a moment, before releasing you and heading inside. “Sure I do, but it’s always good to check.” He holds open the door for you, trademark goofy smile spread across his face again. “Your Majesty.”

“Ha!” You laugh at him and walk past him. “‘Your Majesty’ is a new one. Mmmm, can’t say I totally dislike it.”

“I was certain you’d like it. It suits your attitude sometimes.”

You scoff, biting your lip to unsuccessfully hide a smile and stifle a laugh. Some of your lip gloss rubs off on your teeth. “Fuck you, Satoru.”

“I’d ask when and where, but here we are.” He opens the door to his apartment and steps aside to let you in. You don’t even bother going to his bedroom. The tension had been mounting in your body since you saw him.

“Here and now, then.” You announce, dropping your bag beside the couch. You walk back over to him and grab the collar of his shirt, leading him to the couch. He obediently follows, albeit confused. You push him down on the couch, and he falls with an ‘oomph’. You give him no time to adjust before straddling his thighs and hugging him, pressing your body flush against his. You hold him like that for a while, before he clears his throat.

“Someone’s eager.” He commented, noting how quickly you’d pushed him onto the couch. “Don’t you usually like to do this in my bedroom?” There was concern laced in his voice, which you appreciated, but you glossed over it rather quickly.

“Oh, who cares!” You whine and push yourself away from him, your hands firmly gripping his shoulders. The words start before you can stop them, and you find yourself admitting more than you’d like to. “Rough day, rough week, and the walk here was cold. I don’t want to do anything except fuck you silly and stay wrapped up in your warmth for the entire weekend. Come on and pull your pretty little dick out so I can forget this week and remember how it feels to have my cervix bruised.”

He stares at you in awe for a moment, blinking rapidly. His lips part to say something, but nothing comes out. He switches between opening and closing his mouth before sighing and laughing at you. He moves his hands to squeeze your hips before reaching for his belt buckle. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He teases you, but you can’t be bothered to care.

You immediately pull off your jacket, stripping down and maneuvering around your clothes. Having gone braless today, all you do is pull up your leopard print crop top for easy access. If Satoru wasn't painfully hard already from your earlier tirade, he's painfully hard now. He pulls his pants down just enough for his dick to spring free, already twitching in anticipation. You reach down and simply lift your jean skirt and pull your panties to the side, not wanting to waste any time. He squeezes your hip with one hand, cautious. “Whoa, so early?" You get it, he just wants to make sure you're alright. But today, that's not doing you any favors.

You reach out and hold his throat with your right hand, applying light pressure on it. His eyes widen and his breath catches, his eyes rolling back upon feeling the pressure. “And who are you to question Her Majesty's judgment?"

He murmurs incoherently for a moment, whispering moans, before he straightens up some and looks back at you, hazy look in his eyes already. “Mmmm… Nothing but a mere knave, I suppose…” He trails off, biting his lip, looking up at you, his dick twitching fervently for attention and his eyes just as insistent. You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. Who knew it only took so little to get him all riled up? Not like you could say anything, though.

You play into it a bit more, teasing him. Besides, you started it. Why not continue this roleplay? “That’s right. And as a mere knave, you ought to know your place, right, boy?” You release his throat and grab him by the chin instead, tilting his head upwards to directly face you, a small whimper escaping him.

“Yes…” He murmured, shivering at the intensity of the moment. His eyes focus on you, but are glazed over. You can tell he’s already partially gone from enjoying this roleplay so much.

“Then, let me show you where you belong, bottom rung servant.” With that, you position yourself above his twitching dick, more than ready to push itself inside you.

He grips your hips, helping you steady yourself directly above him, and he glimpses up at you, eyes still hazed over. “Yes, Your Majesty…” He can’t help but roll his hips in anticipation, your soft heat only milimeters away from his aching dick. He whimpers, biting his lip impatiently and rolling his hips upwards again. When you don’t yield immediately, he whimpers a small “Please” and continues doing it, his voice whiny enough to almost shake your resolve.

Satisfied with his pitiful moans, you took it upon yourself to take up your end of the bargain. You shift closer to Satoru, perfecting your position over him. You reach out to hold his dick in place, and gently lower yourself onto it, feeling the familiar stretch. You never got sick of this feeling. Before you know it, a moan has escaped both you and Satoru, and both of you begin to move in unison: you riding his groin, and Satoru rolling his hips upwards. This particular session was impromptu and messy, so neither of you really cared. You threw your arms around him, giving him no time to adjust before you kissed him deeply. Of course, such an action was welcomed by Satoru, who only whimpered thankfully and continued rolling his hips into yours.

The two of you become so lost in your own world: nails gently scraping against partially clothed skin, lips pressed together as saliva glossed your lips and chins, hips rolling into each other with fervent need, moans loud and muffling everything else that you both fail to notice Satoru’s doorknob creaking open until it’s too late.

“Hey, Satoru. I left my-” Geto stops in his tracks, staring at the scene before him. Upon hearing his voice, the two of you snapped out of it and turned towards the door. Satoru is still twitching inside of your heat. The kiss was rudely interrupted and shared saliva coated your tongues. Your tits were out, his shirt was up, and your bodies joined together were only somewhat censored behind the arm of the couch. How do you explain to your FWB’s best friend that sometimes you screwed him? For a moment, that time he greeted you for the first time flashes in your mind. Chilly air, chilly wind, and a chilling, knowing smile. Perhaps he knew then. But, if he knew, why was he so surprised now?

Geto continues to stare blankly for a while, before footsteps down the hall snap him out of it. He hurriedly enters the apartment, securing it behind him. He stands stiffly at the door for a moment, as though nervous to turn around. After an audible gulp, he does, slowly turning to survey the situation. You didn’t want to get off Satoru’s dick with Geto present, and Satoru seems equally pleased with that idea, so you stay put, staring at him, quite mortified. Gojo stammers, and you see his eyes flicker from Geto to you, widened with panic. He can't settle on an excuse, but neither can you, staring at Geto wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Yet and still, even now, despite your mortification, at his shocked yet curious gaze, heat flushed through you once more. You nervously tighten yourself, biting your lip as you curl your nails into Gojo's shoulders and squeeze your insides around his still hard cock. His stammering comes to a sudden halt and he moans pathetically, a tomato red blush spreading across his cheeks before he looks away from the both of you, even more embarrassed than before.

You realize it is up to you to speak.

“U-um…” you pipe up nervously, forcing the words out, and forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. Your voice is shaky and uncertain, the words you've heard it in years. You rack your brain trying to think of what to say, when Geto himself speaks, and the phrase he says makes you tighten again, reliving that chilly night.

"Hello again, Satoru's friend.”

a/n: "everybody say yippee yo or yippee yea!" *mind explodes* holy shit the AMOUNT of EFFORT i put in2 this... brace urself bbys bc im making this multiple parts as a way 2 make up 4 my lateness 💔 anyways i hope you all enjoyed! please leave a like, comment, reblog, or an ask for more content! I love when you all let me know what you think of my writing!! please do let me know if you liked it!! tbh... im not super confident in this one lol

@maruayase hope ya love it babes 💕

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weasleykisses · 1 year ago

Text

You’re So Pretty IV (Remus x Reader)

You’re So Pretty IV

A/N: final chapter to the series. Happy ending bc I’m a sucker for love. You and Remus are desperately in love with each other, and it was only a matter of time before someone said something. *Not edited*

Might write a Sirius alternate ending to this if I get the inspiration.

Word count: 6.1k

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Y/N had been a bit down in the dumps since Remus ran away from her after sharing another one of their little moments together. She just couldn’t understand why he was always running away. He wasn’t the most outspoken or extroverted of the group, but surely he felt comfortable around her. They were best friends.

When they studied together, she tried her best to act normal, like his behavior wasn’t killing her inside. She was frustrated with him, for how indecisive he was acting and how he kept tugging at her heart string just to let them go without warning. She talked to him at meals like normal, and shared her desk with him in classes they shared, but things felt so strange.

Her heart beat so swiftly when he was around she thought she might have a heart attack when their hands skimmed over each other’s or when his eyes lingered just a bit too long on her. She even felt flustered when he offered to share his textbook in Charms, something completely normal for the two of them any other time.

This was becoming ridiculous, really.

She didn’t tell the other girls why she cuddled a particular sweater of hers when she laid in bed, terribly worried about her relationship with the boy who used to wear it. She certainly didn’t say it was because it was laced with the scent of Remus Lupin. It had been his until he gave it to her on a snowy cold day in Hogsmeade.

She dreaded the day it might lose his smell and lose his touch, then she’d have to find something else of his to latch onto.

It would just be another reason for the girls to joke about how she fancied him. She never admitted it to them, refusing each time they brought it up. Yet, they persisted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She felt hopeless against the onslaught of suggestive looks they gave her when she was around the boy. She couldn’t even study with him without one of the girls suggesting she was going to spend the whole time staring at his ‘cute’ face.

It was nights like these, quiet ones with just the girls, when she felt the most vulnerable to their jokes. In the privacy of their own dorm, anything they said could be kept secret, just between the four of them. There was no way any of them would let the sensitive information slip out of that room.

Marlene would stay up at night gossiping about boys despite her obviously having a crush on Dorcas. Y/N never said anything about it. That was something she had to figure out on her own terms. Still Y/N found it adorable whenever Marlene would look at the other girl with starry eyes.

Beside her, Dorcas would sit braiding Marlene’s golden hair into intricate plaits for the next day. Lily would be up finishing her homework but chiming in whenever Potter was mentioned. Always the bookworm with a bit of an adventurous streak coming from James Potter’s everlasting crush on her.

Finally, a sweet Y/N laid in her bed staring at the ceiling with that sweater clutched to her chest, listening to the gossip her friends passed around. She would chime it sometimes, gushing about the boy she fancied. Talking about how he made her smile and laugh so much her cheeks would be sore. Talking about the way he was the perfect guy, personality and looks wise. She loved talking about that special someone. It made her heart race and her cheeks burn with passion.

That special someone was obviously Remus Lupin, even if she never specifically said so. Tonight, however, she wasn’t so cheery about her crush, in fact, she was rather quiet. The other girls talked freely amongst themselves while she kept silent in her bed, just pondering what she was to do about everything.

“I just wish Sirius would quit fooling around and ask me out,” Marlene groaned. “He’s so hot, I get dizzy just being around him sometimes.”

“You said that about Thomas Brookstone last week,” Dorcas teased, rolling her eyes at the incredibly flaky nature of her best friend. She finished her long plaits and moved on to the large curler she used on her bangs. Y/N was always a bit jealous of Marlene and her golden blond hair, hanging to her middle back and sparkling in the sunshine.

Marlene was quick to defend herself, “It was a moment of weakness; you know my heart belongs to Sirius Black.” Yeah, right. Sirius was cute, for sure, but he wasn’t boyfriend material.

Y/N loved Sirius. He was a great friend, albeit a bit too flirty at times. He was charming and she could understand why Marlene would fall for him. Just like she could tell why Lily had taken a liking to James even if she denied it adamantly. Y/N thought James was just as swell as Sirius, being some of her closest friends outside the girls’ group.

She listened silently to her friends bicker on about crushes, Sirius and James, some talk of Dorcas potentially dating Peter, those kinda things. Nothing too important.

With a frustrated frown, she stared up at the canopy of her bed, her eyes trailing along the gold embroidery against the red velvet. It was dreadfully stressful. She felt completely sucked into her own little world, her heart beating steadily in her chest.

She brought the sweater up to her face and sighed at the scent, as if Remus was there laying with her right now. He smelled like books and cocoa and this strong cologne she loved.

“You’ve got any thoughts, Y/N?”

She snapped out of her haze, jumping from her place flat on her mattress to prop herself on her elbow. She shoved down the sweater, attempting to hide it under the covers. “Oh, about what exactly?” She asked, cringing now that they knew she was daydreaming again.

“About Sirius.”

“What about Sirius?”

The girl waved her hand through the air dismissively. “Nevermind. You’re always lost in your own thoughts, aren’t you?” Marlene laughed.

It was true. She got lost quite a lot, drifting between the real world and her imaginary one. One where Remus held her tightly to his chest like the night they danced around the common room to the record player all night long. One where Remus kissed her and held her cheeks in his strong, calloused hands.

Y/N was quick to reply, hoping she was correct in her assumptions. “I definitely think you should ask him out. He totally adores you.” She tried to be a good friend, really. Yet, she had no idea if the boy liked Marlene back. He never mentioned or hinted at it, from what she could tell.

“He’s like that with every girl.” Dorcas finished her friend’s hair, finally setting down her brush. “You’ve got to find yourself a new person to fancy. He’s too much of a player, practically romancing the entire student body at this point.”

“Not me,” Y/N replied.

Dorcas laughed, as did Lily. Her brows furrowed, confused at what was so funny. Was there something she was supposed to know? She squirmed a bit in her place on the bed, her eyes trailing to the carpeted floor.

Marlene answered her questions though. “Hun, Sirius flirts with you the most out of anyone, for obvious reasons...”

“Trying to make a certain someone jealous.”

“I never know what you’re talking about. Someone? Like who?”

“Just lay back down and keep daydreaming, Y/N. We know you’d rather be with your little boyfriend,” Dorcas told the girl, brushing off her oblivious nature. “Well, not so little, quite tall actually.”

“Shush. You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have a boyfriend.” Y/N did take the opportunity to lay back on her bed again, head hitting the plush pillows.

“I bet you’re thinking about him right now. Can’t ever get that boy off your mind.”

She clutched at the sweater under the blanket, holding it to her chest. They always made fun of her for her crush, nearly every chance they got. Really, Y/N was content just holding his sweater close and seeing him during the day. She was particularly proud each time she managed to get him to smile, a real genuine one. He was so dreamy when he smiled.

A soft curve to her lips indicated that she’d fallen victim to another fantasy, thinking of his grin, saved just for her. He was so handsome, with his fluffy brown hair and turtleneck sweaters. She thought of the way he bit his lip when lost in thought, reading a book or listening to an interesting transfiguration lesson.

Not that she stared at him all class. That would be weird. But it would explain her needing tutoring in the subject.

She was consumed by him, everything about him down to his tiny imperfections. He was mysterious in a way that peaked her interest, and snarky with people he didn’t like. He was kind to her, and tolerant of the rest of the group. He was just so perfect. So devilishly charming in his own special way.

Her heart beat faster and she felt heat rising to her cheeks. Her fingers dug into the jumper in her hands even tighter, wanting to bring it up to her face and hug it, getting a piece of Remus before she saw him the next morning at breakfast.

After seven long years of knowing the boys and rooming with the girls in the Gryffindor dormitories, she wondered if it was time to come clean. It felt like the stars were finally aligning in her favor. Her grades were better than usual, she had the best friends in the world, Christmas was right around the corner, and she was unbelievably happy, if not for the stupid Remus situation.

Her friends sat around Lily’s bed, going on about boys again, not that she was keeping track. She could barely pay attention, her mind was on the boy she fancied. He made her so dumb. So distracted she might as well give up on thinking about anything else but him.

The other girls already knew. It was only a matter of time before her heart had swelled so much that it burst. She needed to confide in someone.

“I think I’m in love with him,” Y/N whispered, interrupting their conversation..

Dorcas raised a brow, lifting her eyes from a magazine in her lap. The other girls didn’t bother sparing more than a glance before going back to reading. “Seems you’re the last to find out. I think even James was able to deduce that before you,” the blonde laughed.

“I know you like to make fun of me, but it’s serious.”

“And we’re serious about just pulling the poor boy into a broom closet and snogging him,” Dorcas added, “Remus isn’t so scary.”

“He cares for you so much, Y/N,” Lily assured, resting a gentle hand on her friend’s knee soothingly. It was quite obvious to everyone else except for the girl in question. If only she could clearly see in from the outside, through the eyes of anyone else there. “You should just say something to him.”

Y/N took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m just so scared to lose him. Remus is like my best friend.”

“And so she finally admits it,” Marlene giggled, “Remus loves you. There’s nothing you could do that would scare him away, sweetheart.”

It was only a bit reassuring to her, the things the girls said. It was easy to say those things when you were looking in from the outside, supposedly unaffected if disaster were to strike. If he were to be disturbed by her confession and turn her down, forever making their relationship complicated and uncomfortable.

Tears filled her eyes and she sniffled, covering her eyes with her forearm to keep the tears from dripping down her cheeks. She was such a crybaby. Remus didn’t want a crybaby. He wanted a smart and confident girl. Someone that would raise him up, not drag him down. Y/N was far too messy.

“I-I just love him so much. He means the world to me. I can’t risk ruining our relationship,” the girl whimpered. Marlene was quick to take a seat on the edge of the bed, running a soothing hand through Y/N’s hair. “He’s just so perfect and I’m so awkward. He doesn’t want me.”

“Don’t cry, please. It’s gonna be okay, I promise,” Marlene hushed.

Dorcas added, “If he breaks your heart, Lily will hex the shit out of him anyway.”

Y/N pulled the sweater out from under the blanket and pressed it to her face, taking in the scent and the feeling of the fabric against her skin. “He gave me this jumper, you know. I was supposed to give it back, but he never asked and it smells so good, just like him. I lay here every night thinking about his smile and his laugh, and his sweet honey-brown eyes. I think of his voice and his fluffy hair, and the way he always has chocolate frogs in his bag for when I’m sad. I just love everything about him.”

Marlene swiped her fingers under her eyes, blinking back some tears herself, “Damn, Y/N, you’re gonna make me all emotional.”

“I was wondering why you kept sleeping with that jumper. Figured you were just cold,” Lily hummed. “I think that’s really sweet. You should tell him what you just told us.”

“You’d melt his icy, cold heart, babe,” Dorcas said.

“You’d be surprised. He’s been sending me very mixed signals recently, and I really don’t think he’s interested,” Y/N confessed sadly, pressing her face into her pillows. “We get so close and then he just runs away. It’s like he’s scared of me or something. I-I don’t know what to do!”

“He’s a complicated guy. I think you should go find him. Figure all this out, like, right now.”

“It’s past curfew,” Y/N argued.

“Since when do those boys head to bed at curfew? They’re probably up talking about some stupid stink bomb prank or whatever,” the blonde argued back, “Maybe they’re like us and talking about their own crushes. Who knows?”

Again, Dorcas was right. Those boys would never fall asleep before midnight. They were probably wide awake plotting some shit while Remus read in his own bed, pretending to be disapproving of their behavior. He liked to prank and go on mini adventures, just didn’t want to stoop to their level of idiocy.

“Well, go on. Get to it,” Lily practically ordered, waving her hands towards the door. “I can’t stand seeing you drool over this boy any longer.”

Y/N didn’t stand up right away, not until Marlene took her hands and pulled her from the bed to her feet. She wore her pajamas with cartoon monkeys and bananas on it, and she wondered if she should change. It was kind of embarrassing after all.

“Really, I don’t have to tell him tonight. I’ll do it some other time, I swear,” she tried to say but was interrupted.

“Nope. You have to go now. We’ve decided that’s best for you.”

“Don’t you think this is rather sudden?”

“Don’t make excuses. If you come back to this room without shagging a certain bookworm in the broom cupboard, you’re sleeping on the floor.” That made her feel heat in her cheeks and she choked on air, coughing suddenly from the vulgarity of her friend.

Marlene pushed her out the dorm room and shut the door, making sure to lock it from the inside so she couldn’t get back in. They weren’t lying. If she didn’t do this, she might be sleeping on the couch in the common room for the night.

With a deep breath, she stood up a bit straight and walked towards the boy’s dormitories. She felt wrong being there, a girl sneaking into the boy’s dorms in the middle of the night. If someone saw her, they might think she was a massive pervert.

She rounded the corner, her eyes catching sight of the third door to the right, precisely where all four of the infamous marauders slept every night. Quickly, she scurried over to the large round door and stood in front of it, her fist hovering a few inches from the wood. She was afraid to knock. What if they were sleeping and she woke them? Would Remus be grumpy? Would James whack her over the head with a slipper?

She shuffled nervously, before hesitantly tapping on the door, praying that no one heard and she could just turn around and tell the girls everyone was asleep.

Only, that’s not what happened. She heard a loud crash from inside the room followed by some hurried talking. Footsteps approached the door and cracked it open just enough to peer out and see her dumbass standing there in her stupid pajamas, twiddling her thumbs.

It was Peter. She smiled awkwardly at him, and he let out a loud breath of relief.

“Y/N, I’ve never been so relieved to see you,” the boy exhaled, opening the door just enough for her to slip inside. She stared at him, confused at what he meant by that. He took her wrist, peering left and right in the hallway for watching eyes, then tugged her into the room. He shut the door behind her and flipped the lock shut.

She stared at the short boy, her mouth open but her brain empty of words. “Peter, what are you on about?”

“Y/N! Darling! What a coincidence you show up at this hour. We were just about to get you-“ Sirius started, until Y/N interrupted, her eyes latching onto the bubbling brew on the floor before her. It was smoking and quite grayish-green for a proper potion. She wondered what they could be up to at this hour.

“What are you guys trying to brew?” She peered around the room at the boys. James and Sirius were leaning over the pot with confusion on their features, James clutching at the recipe in his hand while the other held a wooden spoon. Peter was pacing, as the boy does when he finds himself at all stressed. Remus sat in his bed watching from the sidelines, presumably having been reading the book that he now sat at his side.

Tonight he must have been wanting to avoid their shenanigans for a change. He did that sometimes, when he was tired or he had been studying for a long period of time beforehand and wanted to relax.

“Healing potion, although we seem to have fucked up somewhere along the way,” James said warily, staring down into the disgustingly thick, bubbling liquid that burned from a makeshift heat source on the hardwood. “We have a prank coming up soon that might require some if it comes back to bite us in the ass.”

She hummed, reaching out to take their recipe from his hands and read the fine print, something the four of them seemed to ignore. It wasn’t that she doubted their ability to brew a complex potion such as this, it was just that they didn’t have experience with healing brews like she did, in fact, it was the one thing she actually enjoyed brewing. Everything else went over her head.

Perhaps that’s why they seemed relieved to see her. She’d made the potion for Remus in times of need quite a few times. “I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me to make you some in the first place. You know Slughorn lets me use the classroom when I ask,” she commented.

“You seemed stressed. We didn't want to bother you.”

“Nonsense. I’m always willing to help friends, even if it’s for less-than-honorable means,” Y/N brushed off their worries. She reached down to their pile of ingredients and took a pinch of mint leaf, tossing it into the pot and stirring with the spoon five times counterclockwise. “I should be able to fix this right up with a few tweaks.”

She added a few more things, stirred the pot and waited for the color to change and the bubbling to die down to a low simmer. Finally happy with the results, she spooned a bit into a vial and held it out to her friend.

“Oh, thank you, sweet angel,” Sirius replied, quite pleased , “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

She giggled, nodding her head at his words. “All the time.” He stepped forward carefully to take the potion vial from her hands and tuck it into his pants pocket for later. James spooned the liquid into a few more potion bottles he had sitting off to the side, putting them into a little sack to save for later.

She turned away from the pot, suddenly stuck in the precarious situation she came here for. She wondered if she could somehow sneak out without finishing her seemingly impossible task.

Peter furrowed his brows, now concerned with things other than an explosive, unpredictable potion that was previously in their room. “Y/N, why were you outside our dorm this late anyway? It’s almost midnight.”

“It’s a long story,” she replied, now thinking about why she was sent there in the first place. Her cheeks bloomed as embarrassment flooded her features. She wrung her hands in her lap, staring down at the monkey print on her favorite night shirt and pants. Everything is interesting when you’re trying to avoid the inevitable.

“We‘ve certainly got the time,” James chirped, setting his broom on the floor and plopping into his bed. “It’s awfully out of character for you to be sneaking about after curfew.” She cringed at his words. James was right. She would never leave her bed at this hour normally, especially not to show up at their room unannounced. She wrestled with her options on how she could explain herself without seeming like a bumbling idiot.

Her eyes flickered over to Remus, who appeared to be reading a book, distracting himself from the chaos at hand. Only each time she turned away, he peered back to see her pretty face. That innocent smile and her sparkly eyes.

“Didn’t even bother getting dressed. Must have been urgent,” Sirius inquired further.

She stood from her spot on the ground, her eyes staring off at the wall, and then at the floor, anywhere but in the eyes of one of her friends. “I came to see Remus.” Her words were very quiet, almost incoherent. Still, they all heard her. The boy in question peered up from his novel with a brow raised.

“Oooooh,” James cackled, “What did you do this time, Moony?” His friends teased him. Out of all of them though, Remus was probably the least likely to offend one of the girls and get a scolding. James and Sirius definitely outranked him on the mischievous scale.

“It couldn’t have waited til morning, Y/N?” He asked, voice seemingly caught in his throat. He swallowed thickly. What could she possibly need at this hour? From him of all people?

“Um, no. It’s rather important, actually,” she replied, a bit of nervousness in her voice, leading to some shaky words. “Let’s go outside for a minute, if that’s okay with you.”

He set down his novel on the nightstand beside his bed. He felt embarrassed as the guys winked his way and made crude gestures as he walked behind her out the door. His face was no doubt turning a light shade of pink just at the thought of her desperately needing to talk to him in the middle of the night.

He shut the door behind them, looking down at her expectantly. “So, what did you need?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. She noticed the way his hair fluffed up at the touch, and it made her heart beat just a bit faster than before.

“It’s a lot. Do you want to go to the sofas to talk?” She asked, but really she felt like she was just stalling what was bound to happen. He nodded regardless, and they found themselves seated beside each other on the velvety red sofa in front of the always-alight fireplace.

She crossed her legs under her and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest. Her eyes stared at the wisps of fire crackling beside them. Remus found himself growing concerned at the look in her eyes, seeing the fear and confusion in her gaze.

“You know I trust you more than anyone, right, Rem?”

“Yeah,” he lied. Images of her and Sirius whispering in the common room and the hallways and during class when they sat beside each other lingered in his mind as he agreed. Sometimes he worried he would always be second place to his raven-haired friend.

She took a deep breath before burying her face into the pillow she held, wishing she could just scream into it and run back to her dorm room to sleep away this nightmare of a confrontation.

She lifted her eyes to meet his, and she couldn’t help feeling at ease seeing his soft brows and caring gaze back. “I like someone,” she confessed, “I like him a lot, like really bad.”

Even if her voice was muffled by the cushion, he heard what she said. His heart dropped in his chest. He knew this was coming, but he didn’t expect it so soon. He wasn’t prepared. All he could muster was a pathetic, “Ah, okay.”

“I want your advice.” Another pang in his chest. Was he really going to sit here and help her fall in love with another guy? He wanted to die right where he sat, that way he wouldn’t have to endure another second of this torment. “How do I tell him?”

“Guess it depends on the guy.” The guy she fancied was most definitely Sirius, if she liked someone in the group. James was off limits because of Lily being her best friend. Peter wasn’t her type. Remus barely thought of himself as a romantic person; he was neither charming nor charismatic, simply himself. He abandoned her the other night while the record played. He was barely best friend-material, far from boyfriend-material.

Sirius was handsome, charming, flirty, and just around wonderful. He noticed the way her smile dropped when Sirius left them alone in Hogsmeade. He saw the way she smiled whenever he called her that silly nickname. He watched everything happen right in front of his eyes, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. Remus was too afraid to.

“How would you like a girl to confess to you?” she asked further.

He sighed, staring over at the fireplace now. “I suppose I’d want her to be comfortable with me first. Comfortable enough she could just tell me without being nervous. I’d hate to make her feel intimidated,” he explained, “It would have to be private. Not in front of the guys, they would mock me endlessly.”

She urged one last time, wanting to squeeze out any more information he might be willing to give out, “Anything else?”

“I’d like to hear why she chose me. I’m not exactly the friendly type. Nor the funny type. Or the charming type. I don’t have much going for me,” he commented. When he looked back over at her, she was staring down at her hands wrapped around the pillow. She twiddled her thumbs nervously like she always did when she felt some anxiety rolling in.

“And what if she was in love with you? It wasn’t just a crush, it was more than that, has been for a while?”

He felt like crying. He didn’t know why. He was the one that pulled away when they almost kissed the other night. He was the one that brushed off her nicknames and her soft touches, the sweet cheek kisses she gave him when he sat on the couch and she approached silently from behind. He was the one that let her go into the arms of someone else. He let her fall in love with some other guy, and now he felt like a clown for wanting to cry over it.

Remus was beginning to think he just had shit luck, some kind of curse possibly.

“If someone told me they loved me, I would hope I loved them back. I’d hope they’d let me spoil them, kiss them, admire everything about them.”

“And if you didn’t love them back?” She was scared of his answer for this one, knowing there was quite a large possibility that he didn’t love her back. In fact, she was confident that he couldn’t love her. She was so silly and naive, and he was mature. He was so smart and handsome. He’d want someone better than her.

He thought about it for a moment. “I’d much prefer to keep a friend and pretend it never happened than to lose them entirely. I suppose we’d look past it and move on.” It was hard to say what exactly he would do. He’d had random girls come up to him and confess their crushes to him, but it was never anyone he was close with, nor anyone he had to interact with again.

She buried her face into the pillow one more time. Trying to calm her breaths so she didn’t seem suspicious. He wanted her to be relaxed when she confessed to him. She had to be comfortable, and normally she was comfy with him. It was just now she felt herself crumbling under his gaze.

“Can I ask who it is?”

She shook her head, biting her lip to keep herself from saying something stupid. It was taking quite a long time for a Gryffindor girl to muster up the courage to confess her love to a kind boy like Remus. She was never very brave or strong. Not like Lily, Dorcas, or even Marlene.

“Remus,” she started, trying to find the words on her tongue. “Do you like anyone?” She mustered out, somehow finding a way to avoid her confession once again.

He nodded. She was sitting right in front of him, hugging a pillow for dear life as she talked about being in love with some other bloke. He just prayed it wasn’t one of his friends. The heartbreak he would feel knowing she liked Sirius that way would be indescribable.

She felt scared now, even worse than before. She wondered who she was competing with. Probably Dorcas. She was so confident and intelligent, and she had beautiful braids that fit her features perfectly, looking like a goddess every day. Maybe he liked Marlene. Marlene was nice, and oh-so pretty. She could hold a conversation about just anything.

What could Y/N do? Not much.

“Do you think she likes you back?”

“No. Even if she did, I couldn’t be with her.”

“Why not?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tiredly. “I’m a freak, Y/N.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head furiously. Her hand extended to hold onto his, running her thumb over his knuckles in an attempt to comfort him. Her eyes lifted to meet his, and he could see the conflicting feelings running through her mind.

“You are not a freak. Never say that again.” She was stern with her words, giving his hand a squeeze as she did so. Y/N wanted to reach out and cuddle him to her chest, telling him everything was going to be okay. That he was wonderful, and the man of her dreams.

“I could kill you. You do realize that, right?” He asked, and she just rolled her eyes.

“Yes, and James could come down here and Avada Kedavra me out of existence. Every full moon you come back to me worse than any of the others, so if anything, I’d say you’re more of a threat to yourself than anyone else.”

“Still, I hardly deserve it. She’s just so…” He peered over at her and then back to the fire. “Perfect.”

“And you aren’t?” She stared into the fire, too afraid to make eye contact. “Remus, you are so kind to me. You’re so charming and smart.” He felt himself blush at her generous compliments. It wasn’t often someone said such nice things about him. It meant so much, especially coming from her.

“Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself,” he replied calmly, but inside he felt his little heart might implode from joy. It didn’t take much for her to get his heart racing.

She continued, this time her voice just above a whisper. “I could fall asleep listening to just your voice, or your laugh. I’m addicted to hearing it.” The room was quiet save for the crackling of the wood logs in the fireplace and her quickened breaths. He didn’t say anything. He really didn’t know how to reply to that.

She took his silence as a means to keep going, to just display her heart for him to see. It was such a vulnerable moment, one where she felt weak. Powerless. Desperate.

“I spend my nights thinking about you. I hope you don’t mind, and I promise I’m not a weirdo, but I kept the jumper you lent me at Hogsmeade. It smells like you and I’m terrified it’ll lose your scent. I sleep with it just to pretend you’re close to me,” she confessed, feeling the fear leave her body the more she spoke. It was relieving to finally get this off her chest. To tell him everything she’d been keeping to herself.

“I’m not very good at this sort of thing, so forgive me. The girls just told me if I didn’t tell you tonight they were gonna lock me out of the dorms for the night. I know you just said not to be intimidated, but I am. I’m so scared, I’m shaking,” she commented, raising one of her hands to show the tremors that ran through her arm into her shaky wrist. “I’m so hopelessly in love with you, Remus. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“This isn’t some sort of elaborate prank, right?”

“Of course not. I’m not cruel.”

He leaned back on the couch and shut his eyes, keeping himself calm to avoid the tears that would inevitably gather in the corners of his eyes. He was so lonely. He was so scared of everyone hating him one day and leaving him behind. He never even imagined a girl as beautiful as Y/N walking into his life and falling in love with him for who he was.

“Remus? Are you okay?” she questioned nervously, worried that she really had ruined everything despite what he said earlier about pretending it never happened and moving on with their lives. She reached out to rest her hand gently on his upper arm.

He turned to her, looking down at her shy self hiding behind a throw pillow. She was so adorable, so perfect and pretty he felt like he was living in a dream. He tried to pinch himself awake, but she stayed the same.

Remus really didn’t know what overcame him in that moment but he felt himself lurch forward, hands going to cup both her cheeks. His lips found hers, and his eyes squeezed shut. It wasn’t until he felt her kissing back with just as much fervor that he relaxed. Her lips moved slowly against his, so soft and plump against his chapped ones.

She pulled away for a moment, her lips just barely touching his as she laughed, “Guess you love me back?”

He just kissed her again. And again. And maybe a few more times after that.

#remus lupin x reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x reader #marauders era #remus lupin #remus lupin fanfic #hp fanfic #harry potter #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin x you

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strawberrystepmom · 2 years ago

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pairing: incubus!grimmjow jaegerjacquez x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

about: the ravenous desire of your roommate never seems to abate despite the late nights he spends outside of the comfort of your apartment. when he approaches you, the truth comes out. can you fulfill the appetite of an incubus?

contents: nsfw - mdni. cw dark content - dubcon, somnophilia. brief mention of masturbation (f), unprotected penetrative sex (piv), light degradation (slut/slutty), creampie, possessiveness. reader is only partially awake/aware through the fic and assumes she's dreaming.

notes: part of thot-o-ween 2023! yall ever wanted to fuck a cat boy demon before bc i know i have and here he is in all his weirdo glory. what i love about doing this is that it rly forces me out of my element (writing more smut bc historically i haven't enjoyed writing it all that much) and exploring new/darker concepts i haven't always felt like i have the ability to write.

hopefully this is something everyone can enjoy! thank you for reading ♡

Since you signed your lease nine months ago, you’ve always had a standing agreement with your strange roommate Grimmjow.

“If you need anything, just knock on my door and I’ll be there.”

You aren’t sure why you felt compelled to offer your time or support to the man in the first place - perhaps it was your too tender heart taking one roving glance over him and realizing that he simply looked like he needed someone. Eyes like a predator, narrowed and a sharp, angular frame in an oversized t-shirt. You met him through an online post looking for a roommate and desperation, and the end of your relationship, gave you no option but to accept. The situation appeared too fortuitously for you to turn it down.

The past nine months have gone as swimmingly as one could expect living with a stranger would, though.

He comes and goes without much fuss but if you are honest with yourself - you find some of his habits strange. You try not to think too hard about them, after all you’re just his roommate and he owes you no explanation, but there are times where you wonder why he skulks late at night. When he comes home after these late night adventures, you always notice him looking rested the next day and it has never made sense to you. The dark circles under his eyes seem to magically abate and his posture fixes itself, walking tall and strong across the scuffed wooden floors the two of you share.

Aside from this, though - he pays his half of the rent on time, he manages to clean up after himself as well as you can expect, and he asks you no questions about who you are or what you’re doing with your life.

Until tonight, strangely enough.

“What are you gettin’ up to tonight?”

Grimmjow’s voice is a growl more so than anything else, as long as you’ve known him it has been this way, but it sounds different. Lower, perhaps. You tip your head to the side and offer a half smile, shrugging and letting the collar of your oversized t-shirt fall off of your shoulder enough to expose the flesh beneath it.

“Weather’s supposed to be shitty so I’m staying in. Same as usual.”

He hums his answer, stretching his legs to place his feet on the table across from the couch where you both sit. You take a moment to look over him - blue eyes and hair to match. You’ve never asked him if the hair color is natural, assuming the opposite is true, but you have never seen a hint of dark brown or blonde growing out of his head.

In fact, there’s a lot of things you’ve never seen him do but you’ve always just assumed he does them at night while he’s out but you try too hard not to think about it. The two of you have a no questions asked policy, at least silently you’ve agreed to one but you bite further, breaking your own internal code to pry for details.

“How about you?”

Shifting where he sits, he puts his arms up over his head and readjusts his legs, one foot resting on top of the other. You watch his shift in posture, eyes trailing up long legs and admiring the way his bicep bulges with the angle his arm is bent at. It’s strange but you’ve never taken the time to really look at your roommate in all these months but now that you are.

He’s pretty hot.

You look away quickly, hoping you weren’t caught in the act of boundary bouncing, placing your hands in your lap primly and he smirks, settling into the couch behind him with a few wiggles of his shoulders. He takes his turn looking at you, a smile you’re trying to hide and hair still damp after getting out of the shower, and he wonders how you haven’t caught onto him yet. This isn’t the first time he has eyed you with those blazing, partially sunken eyes but you feel the intensity of it this time and tuck your shoulders forward to hide the embarrassment of being seen.

“Might stick around,” he sniffs and wrinkles his nose. “Feelin’ kinda hungry though.”

Instantly, you beam. Perhaps this could be a good way for the two of you to actually get to know each other since you have never really shared a meal with the man outside of shitty pizza on the nights you’ve stayed up late enough to greet him before he leaves and doesn’t return until sunrise.

“I can make us some dinner if you wanna stick around? If not, I get it, it’s not supposed to get super bad out until later.”

What you don’t realize is that the hunger he’s speaking of is something very different than what can be sated by what you’re offering. Despite this, for a brief moment, he considers it and you watch him do so. He licks his bottom lip, pink tongue darting out and takes one of his hands off of the back of his head to rub his thumb in the wet trail left behind by the motion.

“Nah, I gotta do a couple things.”

Heat you’ve never felt before crawls up the back of your neck and you look away again. You’re flustered, the effortless eroticism of whatever just happened making your skin feel itchy, and he chuckles.

What could possibly be so funny?

You think of the question but don’t say it aloud, almost embarrassed at his reaction to you. Did you misread his suggestion? Did you just make the next three months of your lease unbearably awkward?

Grimmjow takes his feet off the table and places them on the ground, leaning forward and your gaze falls on the forward bend of his spine and the way the overgrown hair at the nape of his neck curls slightly.

Why are your eyes so drawn to him today? It feels as though it takes all of your self control just to look away but you manage to, cheeks warm and hairline dappled with sweat. This feeling is strange in a way that you lack the words to explain and you keep your eyes trained on the ground even as he stands up and stretches, his shirt exposing the bottom of his abdomen.

“I’ll take you up on your offer another night, though.”

Flicking your eyes upward, you catch the sliver of tanned skin just above his waistline and another rash of heat crawls across your face. Your mouth is dry and you nod, lifting your face enough to give him an uncertain and forced smile.

“You alright?” Again, you nod. It’s all you can do right now until you have a sip of water or get some air or…something. He smirks and gives you a sidelong glance as he heads toward the door.

“Get some fresh air, it might make you feel better.”

Your face heats further knowing that he can tell what’s happening to you but he makes no other comment. The sound of him slipping on his jacket and boots fills the otherwise quiet apartment and he opens the door hoping he can find something to sate this appetite before he comes home and makes it your problem.

Judging by how you reacted to him tonight, though, you may not be all that upset if he does make it your problem but that’s a boundary to be tested another time.

“Fuck,” you whimper with your lip tucked between your teeth, the squelching of your fingers working in and out of your own sopping cunt filling your bedroom interspersed with whines and moans both from you and the little video on your phone.

The moment Grimm left, the heat became unbearable. You thought about taking your shorts off right on the couch and letting your fingers explore but held yourself back, instead taking a few minutes to walk around, have something to drink, to see if the need started to feel less intense.

After several minutes of intense pacing, you decided to take care of the issue yourself. Sure, it’s perverted and wrong to feel this turned on simply by taking a good hard look at your damn near otherworldly roommate but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him and after this you’ll go back to keeping your distance.

Letting your fingers dip further inside of you, you gasp, mouth forming the first letter of his name. Immediately you freeze, shocked that you’d be so brazen despite the apartment being empty, and you shut your eyes tightly and silently work yourself toward orgasm with someone else’s pleas for more playing through the speaker on your phone.

A little whimper is all you manage, walls clenching around your digits. It isn’t the best you’ve ever had but it isn’t the worst either and it seems like enough for now to help your racing heartbeat calm down to something more manageable. Withdrawing your fingers with a deep breath, filling your lungs completely before emptying them in the same fashion by exhaling, you roll over onto your side, locking and tossing your phone on the bedside table.

What the fuck just happened? What the fuck has this entire evening been?

Chuckling at the absurdity of the past few hours, you reach around blindly for something to wipe your sticky hand on and settle on the t-shirt you discarded earlier. You know you need to get up but you feel pleasantly dazed instead, wiping your fingers and keeping your heavy eyes shut.

Free from embarrassment and far less wound up, you start to doze. The room is cool and the fall storm the news warned you about blows outside, the gentle sound of thunder lulling you into an unexpected but much needed rest.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear a knock, knock, knock at your cracked bedroom door.

Eyes fluttering open just enough to see Grimmjow standing in the doorway, you shut and open them just to make sure you’re really seeing what you’re seeing. It’s too dark to make out all of him but your blurry eyes scan his face, noticing his cheeks look almost hollow and the same deep dark circles beneath his eyes before he left tonight look darker and heavier.

“Grimm?” You ask and his response is a low growl, footsteps echoing through your quiet room as he pads toward the edge of your bed. “Are you okay?”

He stalks like a predator across the floor, making methodical and swift footfalls at the foot of your bed. You sit up, forgetting that you fell asleep completely nude, and his pacing stops when his eyes settle on your exposed breasts, your blanket bunched beneath them.

“I’m hungry,” he repeats just as he did earlier and you are too tired to figure out what he means. Giggling, you still haven’t noticed the way he eyes you hungrily, stiffened nipples grabbing his attention and keeping it.

“Couldn’t find anything good to eat while you were out?”

Your words are a jumble, something that would make sense to no one else but the man who has lived with you for 9 months who has figured out your morning sleepy voice and the way it all blurs together. He approaches the edge of your bed and sits down, watching you lay back down and settle against your comforter.

“Nothing sounded good,” he admits, flipping around and crawling on all fours up the bed. You’re so sweet and disarmed, rain pattering on the windowpane while your chest rises and falls and your eyes fight to stay shut. “Definitely not as good as what’s at home.”

You giggle again, eyes closed so you don’t notice the way the distance between the two of you closes further. His body is large but lithe and each movement sends him closer and closer to you until he catches the scent of something familiar.

Arousal.

He grins, feral and large, crawling the extra few inches to fully envelop you. Caging you in with his arms, your eyes open and see his face inches from yours, his bare chest almost pressing against your own.

“What are you doing?”

The question doesn’t seem alerted or concerned, just curious, and sleepy you reaches out to brush your fingers down the defined bicep holding him up. He chuckles and the sound makes the same heat you felt hours ago crawl up your neck and that’s the moment you realize something is different about him. Your hackles raise slightly and you sit up but he pushes you back down gently, hand splayed between your breasts.

“You said I could come to you for anything I needed, right?”

Despite the fact his hand feels so hot it could burn a hole straight through your body, you nod. You offered yourself months ago and he had yet to take advantage of your kindness. Leaning down, he watches your eyes fully open and presses his forehead to yours.

“I need you,” he mutters and your eyes meet his. A storm of blue, a flurry of something you have never seen before. He groans, almost looking pained and you gasp and hold onto his bicep. You can put two and two together, intelligent and alert enough to manage that much, and your hand slides over where his palm rests on your chest.

“Like this?” You ask, sliding his hand from the space between your breasts to cupping one of them and he nearly growls feeling your skin beneath his fingers. His thumb dances over your hardened nipple and you gasp, shivering beneath him.

“Bet you never thought you’d end up with somethin’ like me in your apartment,” he taunts, hand tracing down your body, mapping out your stomach and hips. You don’t think much of his words, lost to the sensation of being touched and the heat incinerating all rational thought inside of you, but one word catches your interest and you repeat it.

“Don’t you mean someone?”

Another chuckle shakes his body, his fingers caressing your thigh. He shakes his head where it’s pressed against yours and you can only watch when he licks his lips again just as he did earlier, the motion making your head spin.

“Nah, I’m a somethin’.”

With this, he wants to stop further questioning and he leans in to kiss you. By this point your mind should be catching up, alert and awake, but you aren’t convinced this isn’t some kind of strange horny dream you managed to conjure up so you kiss him back eagerly. The wet sound of lips smacking together in a frenzy fills the room, tongues sliding against one another and you even yelp when he nips at your lower lip, sucking the fullness of it into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand that was tracing across your thighs now pushing them open. He paws at your still slick pussy, a thick finger slipping between your lips with little resistance. He revels in the feeling of your hot arousal, smearing it around your hole and rubbing little circles around your clit rather than on it that make you whimper.

“Grimm,” you pant and he only chuckles, a second digit joining the first in spreading your wetness. The pressure of the two fingers makes your hips buck, desperate for more.

“You've been having fun without me? Sure feels like it.”

Puzzled, you wonder what he means until you realize that he can insert a finger inside of you without any resistance, still worked open from your previous attempts to get yourself off. Walls clenching around the single digit, he groans into your ear. Your warmth feels luxurious, like silk. It’s more than he could have ever hoped for.

“I don’t mind,” he continues massaging your walls with his finger in the way only an expert can. You surely must be dreaming, none of your other partners have ever been this skilled with just their fingers, and you let yourself have this moment. What’s the worst that could happen? “Gettin’ this eager little pussy all ready for me is almost too nice of you.”

The words are filthy and they make you whine, hips bucking against his hand and where it rests over the top of your pelvis. You’re greedy, desperate for more. He could do just about anything to you right now and you know that you’d let him, drooling pussy leaking down his finger.

“You want more? Tired of feelin’ so empty?”

The slow rolls of your hips tell him all he needs to know and he uses his free hand to slip out of the sweatpants he wore into your bedroom, cock already hard and leaving a wet spot on the front of them. He rolls his eyes, tossing them aside as fluidly as he can while still keeping you full of his fingers.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna give you what we both need. Gonna fill this fuckin’ slutty pussy up, give you what you were almost beggin’ me for earlier.”

Ah yes, that. Even dream you can’t escape the embarrassment of his effect on you in the living room but you let the feeling go, instead focusing on how good it feels every time the pad of his finger brushes against the spot deepest inside of you that your own fingers could never reach.

“I want it,” you admit aloud. He smirks, finger withdrawing from you and making you whine. Your body feels as hot as it did hours ago and twice as wound up, clit throbbing from lack of attention. Blood pulses in your ears and you look up, witnessing the way he’s coating his shaft in his own precum with a gasp.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna fill you up just like you need,” he coos, it’s so condescending but you hardly notice, too busy reveling in the way it feels when the fat head of his cock brushes through your folds. You don’t have to think about anything right now and you embrace the feeling, allowing him control.

What he doesn’t mention is that he needs it even more than you do, the maw inside of him demanding that he slip inside of you just like he is now.

He shudders, body tensing as he sheaths himself inside of you in one sharp movement, your breath catching in your throat when his balls slap against your ass. He’s so impossibly deep and despite how wet and opened up you are, your cunt stretches deliciously to accommodate his girth.

Again, this has to be a dream. Nothing in real life could ever feel this good and your toes curl, spread legs shifting to link at the ankles and wrap around his waist. You feel the firmness of his ass against your calves as he grinds into you, the gentleness ending as quickly as it started when he draws his hips back completely and thrusts back inside of you in one swift motion.

Your back arches off of the bed and he drinks in the sight of you, flashes of lightning outside allowing enough light to leak in to give him a good look at everything he has been vying to see. The knot inside of him slowly starts to untangle, his furious pace making your body bounce up the bed and he wonders why he waited this long to just give in.

Perhaps he’s losing his touch after years. He could’ve just snuck in and taken you any evening he wanted to, you wouldn’t be the first he’d done it to given his nearly unquenchable thirst, but he wanted you to want it too. To want him. To give yourself to him.

He chuckles like a wild man, leaning over your body and kissing you again while holding your hips in place to fuck you wildly.

“Takin’ me so well I might have to make you all mine,” he offers and you moan, clenching around him. So you liked that, he takes a note. You like being wanted, you like being taken. He knew it from the moment he saw you but he always loves it when a gut feeling is confirmed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Lettin’ an incubus use your pussy whenever he wants like a slut, right?”

Your eyes widen at the word. Incubus - you recall reading some asinine online story about a woman who swore she’d been fucked by one years ago but again, this is your weird dream about your abnormally hot roommate so you don’t question it.

“Yeah, I love it Grimm,” you whisper against his mouth, tongue too heavy to say much else. You’ve never felt like this before, body singing and silky walls clinging to his cock, and you’re ready to let yourself start the endless freefall of pleasure, eyes shutting tightly while he grunts above you.

“That’s right, I can feel it. You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?”

Keeping your eyes screwed shut, you only nod and he lets you grind against his pelvis, clit brushing the dusting of blue hair at the base of his cock. It’s soft and silky and it’s just what you need, friction spurring you further into bliss as you cum with a shout, eyes shooting open.

This isn’t a dream, you realize suddenly, feeling Grimm’s cock drilling in and out of you at a breakneck pace. You are in your bed, thunder rolling outside, your phone on the bedside table, your body bouncing with every thrust. Your blue haired roommate hovers just above you, face twisted in pleasure while glancing down at where the two of you are joined, the slick sound of your pussy bringing you to reality.

This is really happening and honestly, you just..let it.

Reaching for Grimmjow, you card your fingers through his hair, and he lets his eyes flutter closed. Your fingers dance through the same short hair at the nape of his neck you were admiring hours earlier and he grunts, hips stilling. Using both hands to hold you in place, he fills your eager cunt full of his creamy release and you moan along with him.

Unceremoniously, he slumps forward and your chests touch. You giggle and kiss his forehead, looking down to see him looking far better than he did when he entered your room. His eyes don’t gleam dangerously anymore and the dark circles seem to have sorted themselves out, his face resting on the top of your breast.

“Hey Grimm?”

He looks up, surprised you’re alert enough to even let that much come out of your mouth.

“Everything you said…”

You don’t have to elaborate further, he’s aware of what you’re asking. Is it true? Did he admit what he really is, what the source of his appetite is?

“Yup.”

You don’t ask for further explanation and he doesn’t plan on giving it, content to let you run your fingers through his hair as the storm rages outside.

#grimmjow x reader #grimmjow jaegerjaquez x reader #kendall writes #thot-o-ween 2023 #monster mash 2023 #cw somnophilia #cw dubcon #cw dark content

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